#body so tired every night that the sleep was dreamless

[maggeemoo]

Tarnished Mirror; Ch. 2

-[CW: Vomit/Puke, Blood]-

Saying his name felt wrong. Every part of her knew that she was right, but every part of her wanted so desperately to be wrong. Why would Jaune ever write “kill me?” It didn’t make sense, nothing does anymore. “Does he blame himself for Penny’s death? H-How could that even come close to what happened? I-I was the one who…” Is all that Pyrrha manages to say, her thoughts and voice having no barrier just as usual. Why though? Her voice still feels ever so slightly off, like it both is and isn’t hers. She rereads the note over and over, desperately hoping that this is all a sick nightmare and that dream logic would kick in, the words suddenly changing or for her to wake up and continue the fight with Cinder.

No such thing happens. As she reads the note, she only becomes surer that it’s Jaune’s handwriting, that he thinks Penny’s death is his fault, that it’s him who calls himself a monster.

That it’s him who wants to die.

For a brief moment, Pyrrha’s mind can’t help but wander to the last time she saw him. He was desperately pleading with her, but all that she heard was the noise of the ongoing battle. His words were both like a siren song and like gunshots, his voice as beautiful as the sky and as ugly as the Wyvern Grimm that flew through it.

But still, all she heard was the boy she kissed, the boy she wanted to leave with but knew she couldn’t. As she finally forced her thoughts to return to the present she felt queasy, her heart thrumming faster than a hummingbird’s wings as she stumbled out of the tent and fell to the ground.

With the sun setting now, the sand and soil felt cool, at least much cooler than her blood which Pyrrha swears she could feel boiling. A burning sensation erupted from her chest as she tried and failed to get up, the sting and burn of acid shooting up through her throat. She just barely managed to prop herself up before a puddle was beneath her, yellowy-green bile still stinging her mouth as more came.

After what felt like hours and seconds at the same time, one last retch spilled from Pyrrha’s lips, only a few small drops of bile escaping her as she finally stood up. It felt like she was standing upside down, like her feet were somehow clinging to the ceiling and that the sky above her was a void waiting for her to fall into.

But she didn’t fall.

She stared up into the sky, getting darker with each passing moment, and the abyss that she thought was there didn’t stare into her. Nothing was there to stare, no eyes, no abyss, just the slowly darkening sky. As she yet again spoke out loud, her voice finally felt right, the acid of the vomit having burned away something in her throat.

“H-He has to be out here s-s-somewhere. He must be h-hurting, if he was a-alright he wouldn’t even be thinking about wanting to… to die.”

Pyrrha took a big breath in as she talked, the now dark jungle’s cool night breeze washing away any heat or burn inside her. Her heart was still beating, her lungs still pumping, her blood still warm in her veins. She slowly wandered back into the tent, lying down on the bed of leaves as she calmed down, the sudden exertion of puking having tired her out. She speaks one more time before she drifts off into a dream.

“I need to help him.”

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Pyrrha’s sleep was strangely dreamless. She drifted through the blank nothing that is sleep, her body feeling weightless. But with a sudden shift, she felt heavy, her armor and clothes putting pressure on her skin as her eyes slowly opened.

She was still in the tent, the light of day bleeding through the canvas material. As she stood up, she felt the weight ground her, keeping her senses active as she briefly glanced around the tent again.

There’s another shred of paper in a small box, what looks like a calendar. Reading over it, Pyrrha sees that the only days that Jaune comes to this camp are two out of the week, and that they’re back to back. The first of the two days he leaves early for something, but the second of the two seems more relaxed. A small note scrawled on the back reveals why. Pleasers don’t try to ascend as early on the day after the second, so don’t rush to get back. Spend the night here and then head back as soon as you wake up

“Ascend? Pleasers? Whatever it is, Jaune must be struggling with it if he has to remind himself of what he’s doing.” Pyrrha says as she grabs the map of the area, seeing another note showing that he tries to get back around noon. Not seeing any sort of time keeper in the tent, Pyrrha steps outside and glances up at the sky, seeing that the sun is right near the center. Noon.

Guess I’ll be waiting for a bit, might as well eat. Pyrrha thinks to herself, grabbing a sliver of the jerky that she found and quickly downing it. Just as she swallows, she hears a rustling behind her, sounding like something is in the bushes behind the tent.

She opts to stay quiet, slowly turning around and investigating. As she steps around the tent she sees a bush shaking, but just a moment later a mouse hops out of it, standing on its hind legs. She’s curious about the strange little creature, but regardless breathes a sigh of relief seeing that it wasn’t anything dangerous.

Unfortunately, that sigh is met with a cold sort of itch at her throat, and before she can think to scratch it, the feeling seems to dig into her neck.

“Either you’ve been here long enough to get sloppy or the Monster’s stories about you were so wrong that I snuck up that easily. But if you’re here then team RWBY isn’t far behind I’m sure, so give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now and spare them the trouble, Neo.”

The voice was cold, calculating, and even. It had just enough familiarity for Pyrrha to second-guess herself though, so she didn’t immediately use her semblance to move the metal blade away. She opened her mouth to respond before she realized that there were other holes in her memory. There was always someone there that she can’t quite remember, a blank spot in otherwise perfect memories. She knows Neo, but at the same time, she doesn’t.

“Neo? I’m not Neo, I… If I could remember her then I’d explain. I know the name but I don’t remember.” Pyrrha says, slowly putting her hands up. The voice pauses for a bit, seemingly hesitating after hearing Pyrrha’s words. For just a moment, Pyrrha could feel the blade being pulled away from her throat. But just another moment later it was back, now threatening to draw blood.

“You seriously expect me to believe that? After all you’ve done, after who knows how many people you’ve hurt? You’re almost as bad as him, but you were at least blatant with your wrongdoings.”

“Jaune, please-” “If you compare me to that Monster again, then it won’t matter if you have a good reason for me to not kill you. That thing killed Penny, and if he wasn’t such a coward then he could’ve saved the person you’re imitating. If it weren’t for me killing him then I’m sure he would’ve killed more too.”

The voice is definitely Jaune’s, just older. Much, much older. It’s low and gravelly, and so so so cold. What the hell happened to him? How long has it been since Pyrrha was fighting Cinder?

“I’m not imitating anyone! And you didn’t kill Penny, I did!” Pyrrha yells out, the sudden movement of her throat making the blade dig into Pyrrha’s throat and draw a single drop of blood, the drop now slowly inching down her neck.

The man hesitates again, but the blade doesn’t leave Pyrrha’s throat, just idly sitting there as her blood adds to its already incredibly rusted surface. He slowly spoke up though, his voice starting to shake a little.

“Pyrrha Nikos died during the Fall of Beacon. Jaune Arc could’ve stopped her but didn’t, instead letting others do the work only for one of his victims to watch her die. Long after that, he killed Penny after she was brought back.” He says, pausing for just a second to breathe. “And you tried to kill Ruby, but got Yang instead. I doubt either of them are dead though, before I killed Arc he always went on and on about how he was sure that they were alive. It’s the least I can do to wait for them, to keep them safe once they get here. And to give them the good news, that their manipulator is dead.” Pyrrha can’t bear to hear this all from Jaune’s voice. She’s desperately trying not to cry, her vision blurred with tears that have yet to fall. She can feel Jaune press the blade into her neck more before she finally caves, using her semblance to just barely slip out of his grasp and jump away. “I was gonna give you a quick death, you know. Even the worst people ever deserve a painless one. This is your own fault.” The man says, and now that Pyrrha has turned to see him, he has a helmet on, obscuring his face.

“Jaune, please! Snap out of it! I’m alive and right in front of you! Please!”

The man stands up a little, Jaune now in his old age is even taller than Pyrrha. He flicks her blood off of his broken and rusted blade, his rusted armor creaking as he moves and gets ready to lunge.

“That’s the second time now. You even beginning to compare him with me is infuriating. If I was as insane as him I would kill you slowly for that, but I’m not. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Just as Pyrrha draws her weapons, Jaune launches himself at her, tearing the tent apart in the process. They’ve both stopped talking now, Jaune aiming for the kill and Pyrrha only blocking and dodging.

Now with centuries of experience, Jaune already has the upper hand.

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(That's the end of Chapter Two, everything past this is just me the author rambling~ And here's a link to the Previous Chapter! I'll get a link to Chapter Three as soon as it's up~)

Hello again everyone! I got super carried away and just wrote Chapter two already~ Honestly I'm a little unsure if this is really a finished product so I may revise it still but oh well, we'll burn that bridge after we cross it!

And of course gonna tag some people again that I saw would like this: @pilot-boi @philosophicalpug

#mirror man au #tarnished spartan #Tarnished Mirror AU #rwby au #rwby #save rwby #rwby fanfiction #fanfic #fiction #writing

[chronal-anomaly]

One day,,, one day I'll talk about the farm and Lena's extended family and those days after the fall where she was recovering,,,, one day

#after the arrest of course #cut loose with no family no friends and nowhere to go with a disgraced name #heading back to a family she was separated from so many years ago #showing up at the old farm with a duffle bag and tears in her eyes #dropping to her knees as her aunts ans cousins rushed her #the monotonous weeks of hard work later grounding her #body so tired every night that the sleep was dreamless #coming in for good supper #loving the animals and tending to the fields #god i hope this makes sense my brain is stuffy today #big city girl in a pair of mucks with a shovel in her hand and loving every second of it #anyway full meta coming later but come ramble abt this with me in discord

[snowyslytherinowl]

Joyous Nightmares - Part 3

PAIRING: Severus Snape x (Professor) Reader

SUMMARY: A year after surviving the Second Wizarding War, Severus Snape begins to have joyous nightmares where he dreams of having a wife and a daughter. These dreams bring him nightmares because he doesn't believe that he'll ever get married or have a family of his own. So what happens when the wife in his dreams is revealed to be you?

Warning: Nothing graphic, but Severus’s near-fatal attack by Nagini is described. Angst and nightmares once more. 

Part 1 | Part 2

*GIF isn't mine, unsure of credit

Sleep overcomes an unwilling Severus that night. Dreams also invade his sleep since his dreamless sleep potions haven’t finished brewing. 

Nighttime approaches as Severus walks down the path toward Hagrid’s hut. He wonders if his daughter had fun with the gamekeeper that day. His question is answered when the door of the hut bursts open and she comes running towards him. For a five-year-old, she runs amazingly fast. 

“Daddy, Daddy! Hagrid showed me unicorns and hippogriffs!” she shouts. Practically launching herself at his legs, she grasps the fabric of his trousers and points at Buckbeak. “He let me pet Buckbeak too!” The gamekeeper emerges from the hut and approaches the pair, smiling. 

“Oi, Professor Snape! Sorry. I didn' mean ter let her run out o' the house, tha' one.” he apologizes. “Yer daughter is a sweet little girl.”

 “Thank you for watching her and showing her your creatures, Hagrid. She has been excited to play with the live versions of her toys for a long time.” He smiles down at his daughter and cocks his head in Hagrid’s direction. “Sweetheart, what do you say to Hagrid?”

“Thank you!” she says and hugs Hagrid’s legs as she smiles sweetly up at him.  

“O' course, little one,” he replies and pats her affectionately on the head. 

Severus’s daughter grabs his hand and they walk back to Hogwarts together. Along the way, she rambles about every creature she petted and fed. Severus warmly smiles at his daughter’s excitement. Several students stare as Severus passes by them with his daughter in tow. “Should you not be returning to your houses?” he sneers at them to protect his reputation as the harsh dungeon bat. The students quickly scamper away and Severus beckons his daughter to their quarters. 

He pushes the door open to the sound of music playing from a small radio and fire crackling from the fireplace. Water rushes from the shower and Severus’s daughter is about to open the bathroom door when he stops her. She looks disappointed, but he reassures her, “Wait for Mummy to finish her shower and I will warm up milk for you. All right?”

She nods and jumps onto the sofa. He searches the fridge for milk as the bathroom door creaks open, revealing you in pajamas. “Hi. I thought I heard you two coming in. How was Hagrid’s, sweetheart?”

“He showed me unicorns and hippogriffs!” she gushes. A unicorn plushie flies into her hands and she changes the body of the unicorn to have a yellowish tint. “One of them looked like Angel, but she was a baby so she was yellow.”

“How cute is that!” you say enthusiastically. “Next time we can look at them together!” The both of you giggle and Severus smiles as he turns on the stove. He warms the milk for his daughter and when he hands it to her, he finally notices her features. She has his black hair while every other feature mirrors yours: the eyes, nose, lips, and cheeks. Soon after she finishes the milk, her parents wash her and put her to sleep. 

Once Severus changes into his nightclothes, he cuddles with you in bed. Water remaining from your hair wets his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He focuses on how he can feel your breasts through the thin fabric of your pajamas and how your legs are practically fused to his. He tilts his head down and sees you looking down at him. “Are you tired?” you whisper and move your hand from his jaw to his chest. You take more time tracing your hand down his stomach and where he needs it most while wickedly batting your eyelids at him. 

“Not when your hand is all over me.”

You laugh softly and kiss his neck. “Then let’s stay up a little longer.” You swing one leg fully over his leg and lower your body onto him. Severus tilts himself upwards and presses a kiss onto your lips.

A whirlwind of emotions runs through Severus, but the emotion that prevails is longing. He considers you to be a friend and has never recognized that perhaps, he does harbor romantic feelings for you. You have the sweetest smile, the gentlest eyes, and the most beautiful laugh. How was he such a fool not to realize the true meaning of the warmth enveloping him whenever you laugh? And Merlin, that dream. He selfishly wishes it had carried on so he could feel your body enveloping his. 

Then a sense of guilt hits him. You see him as a friend and nothing more, for Merlin’s sake. He’s ashamed that he dreamt of you in such a way. How can he possibly sit next to you in the Great Hall in a few hours and look at you like nothing has happened? The worst part is that you won’t even know why he’s ignoring you. But it’s better this way; he can’t fathom the look of disgust on your face if you knew that he dreamt of your hands roaming over his body. You’re too good, too kind for this. Especially since you just offered to accompany him to Hogsmeade and the Black Lake. 

This is too much for him to handle and his body begins to shake. Tears run down his cheeks and sobs wrack his body. The nearest vase becomes the victim of his emotions as he throws it at the wall, shattering it into porcelain shards. He kicks a messy pile of books and they go flying, knocking down other items they’ve hit. He grabs his wand and explodes a glass jar, spilling its contents everywhere. Severus attempts to calm himself by balling his fingers into a tight fist until his knuckles go white and blood is drawn from the fingernails pressing his palm. Slow, shallow breaths escape him, but they do nothing to calm his internal state. 

Finally, he collapses onto the bed, head between his hands, and allows the emotions of all the dreams to overtake him once more. A selfish part of him wishes that he truly did have a daughter that looks like you. Wishful thinking, that is, considering that you’d never dream of dating him, let alone marrying him. 

A knock sounds on the door, startling Severus. He swallows his sobs and wipes his eyes with his hands. Though, whoever is on the other end knows he’s inside since they knock more insistently this time. He attempts to ignore them again. Cold chills run down his body when he hears their voice. “Severus, I know you’re in there! Please, open up!”

It’s you. What a fool he is for forgetting that you’re patrolling the corridors tonight. He doesn’t know what to do. Leave you at the door or face the one person he never wants to face again? Who is he kidding? He wants to see you more than anyone in the world, but he has to push you away. Then again, it would be cruel to you to completely ignore you, so he settles on shouting, “I am fine! You can leave!”

“Stop lying to me! I heard crashes in there!” Usually, your voice is gentle and kind; now, you sound insistent and a little desperate. A pang of guilt hits him once more, so he swings the door open. 

The light from your wand shines onto Severus, causing him to shrink back in an attempt to hide his puffy red eyes. With the way you’re staring at him, you must think of him as an ugly, pitiful creature. “Oh, Severus. What happened? I’ve been worried about you for so long! Please, talk to me,” you beg and you sound like you’re on the verge of tears. How sweet you are for caring so deeply about him. 

“I… I…” he stammers and you draw your head back to look at him expectantly. He quickly breaks eye contact and points at the smashed jar and its contents oozing on the floor. “I am upset because I dropped my favorite potion ingredient.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “I don’t believe you.” The concern is still there, but he feels like a silly schoolboy being caught in a lie. 

Sighing, Severus whispers, “What do you want me to say?” He wishes you would leave him to his thoughts and accept his lies, but Merlin you will not give up. It would be so much easier for you to stop caring about him. 

“The truth,” you say and let go of him. He misses the warmth of your hug, but you soon take his hands into yours. Blood reddens his normally pale skin and he’s thankful that your wand is pointing downward so you can’t see his face too well in the darkness. “You don’t know how horrible I feel every time you walk into breakfast dead tired like you’re an inferi or something. Sure, you’re grumpy most of the time, but you snap at the students more than usual. I know something is wrong and it kills me that you won’t talk to me about it. I’m your friend and I promise that I won’t judge you.”

“Yes, you will,” he grunts and tears reform in his eyes. Get a hold of yourself, Severus tells himself. He blinks away the tears and retracts his hands. 

“What?”

“You will judge me,” he whispers. “You have no idea what I have been thinking and you would be revolted if you knew.”

“You’re wrong.” You sound more determined as you speak. “I’ve always known that you’re a good person even if your tongue is sharp. When you killed Dumbledore and took over as Headmaster, the other professors and staff members would rip you apart behind your back. I never partook in that. I knew that you were serving as a double spy and that every deed you did was so we could win the war. No matter what happened, my belief in you has never wavered. So whatever this is, I don’t think it can be worse than pretending to be a Death Eater.”

He turns around and steps toward a shelf without the broken glass so you can’t see the tears falling out of his eyes because of your utter devotion to him. How could he go through with his plan of ignoring you when you’re so loyal to him? Caution is thrown to the wind when Severus confesses, “I have been having nightmares. In these nightmares, I dream that I have a wife and child.”

A pause fills the air and Severus finally looks you in the eye. You look somewhat relieved now that he’s confided in you, but your face has fallen. “Do you not want to get married and have kids?”

A year ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to give a firm, indefinite “no.” Now, though? He supposes he does. A wife and child would certainly fill the loneliness he’s forever had in his heart. “I do. It is only that I…” he hesitates, “I do not believe that I will ever get married or have children.”

“Why’s that?” 

Embarrassment burns at his cheeks and more tears threaten to spill from his eyes. Oddly, this feels worse than that moment by the Black Lake with Lily. It feels like you’re forcing him to confess how he feels for you, how he’s just realized that he longs for you no matter how genuine and supportive you seem to be. “Do not make me say it.”

“I don’t understand,” you say. Honesty fills your eyes, beckoning him to open up to you. 

“Look at me. No woman would want to marry, let alone date me,” he says and he gestures at himself. He runs a finger along his greasy hair and hooked nose to demonstrate his point that he’s a hideous dungeon bat. A dry, humorless laugh escapes him in the hopes of lightening the mood. 

“That’s not true,” you reply and step toward him. In the dim light from a glowing insect in a jar, Severus can see your eyes and the look in it is something he can’t decipher. 

“I appreciate your words of consolation, yet they are nothing but a white lie,” he scoffs and turns away from you. 

“They aren’t,” you whisper. You step towards him cautiously, in case he’ll swat you away. But he doesn’t. You move to him until you’re so close that he can feel your breath on his face. 

For a second, Severus wishes that you’d kiss him. She would never want to do that, he thinks to himself. His cheeks redden in embarrassment at his inappropriate thoughts. 

But your face is moving ever so close to him, and then you’re getting on your tippy toes, and your lips are hovering right next to his, and you finally kiss him. His head spins as your hands cup his face and pull him impossibly closer to you. He doesn’t know where to put his limp arms, how to breathe, or why you fancy him, but all that matters is the exhilarating feeling of your soft lips against his chapped lips. 

You finally release him when you need air, but you lean your forehead against his and breathlessly laugh. With his newfound ability to move, he places his hands on yours and laughs with you. 

Eternity seems to pass as you stare at each other until Severus whispers, “When?”

You understand without clarification and you tell him, “I don’t really know. I guess I always found you handsome.” Severus rolls his eyes and opens his mouth in response, but you silence him with a quick kiss. “I don’t want to hear any of it,” you say and kiss his nose. If you’re willing to kiss his nose, then perhaps he shouldn’t feel so insecure about it. 

“After the battle, I noticed that you were missing from the Great Hall. I walked through the area with the wounded at least twice and I couldn’t bring myself to look at the dead until I had to. It was when I couldn’t find you amongst the dead either that I finally realized how I felt for you. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I missed out on the opportunity to tell you how I feel,” you whisper and give a dry laugh. If Severus wasn’t listening intently, he wouldn’t be able to hear your low voice. “But when you were healing, I didn’t want to burden you with how I felt. And then I guess I was too shy.”

Unbeknownst to Voldemort, Severus carried the antidote to Nagini’s venom wherever he went. When Voldemort left the Shrieking Shack and he gave his memories to Potter, he poured the vial down his throat and healed his bite wounds. The loss of blood knocked him out until the battle was won and even when he regained consciousness, he could barely find the energy to move. Although he eventually managed to apparate to an unoccupied building in Hogsmeade, he realized he wouldn’t be welcome amongst the others at Hogwarts. A desolate street seemed to be the best place to hide and he slumped along a wall, allowing himself to regain his strength. 

Then he heard your voice calling out for him. At first, he thought he had fallen asleep and he was dreaming of you. But when you crouched in front of him and inspected his body for wounds, he vaguely recognized you as a real, living being. He didn’t question why you were looking for him or why you didn’t kill him as you apparated him to St. Mungo’s. Sometimes he pondered those questions, but he never asked you why.

“I am glad you found the courage to say something now.” Severus brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear and initiates the kiss this time. Gaining confidence with your confession and previous kisses, he lets his hands roam down your body until they rest on your waist. As his tongue slips between your lips, he thinks that he will never get tired of this delightful feeling. 

XXX

Soft breaths sound around the bedroom. Severus feels your chest rising and lowering as you sleep cuddled against his body. One arm is wrapped around you and supports your head, while the other gently soothes the baby sleeping on his chest. He knows your daughter can’t sleep with her parents in bed for now, but he wants to enjoy comforting his child before he puts her in her crib. 

The view outside the window isn’t the same as the one in his dreams; the grass outside is green and the flowers grow in beds around the yard, but other cozy houses surround his own. But perfectly recreating his joyous nightmares into a reality years later doesn’t matter to him. All that matters is that he has the two of you and that his joyous nightmares no longer haunt him; they only bring him joy. 

#snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #angst #angst with a happy ending #happy ending #fluff #baby #nightmare #rubeus hagrid #hagrid #mutual pining #harry potter #romance #pro snape #professor snape #dad snape #severus snape x professor!snape

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia (Part Four)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Contents (part 4): Reader goes into heat, Miguel is rutting, rough sex, creampie, monster/human relationship, breeding kink, oral (reader recieving), face riding, size difference.

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: a drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Word count: 3798

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Once you entered Miguel’s nest you planned to recuperate and discuss what had happened, but you underestimated just how tired you were.

It’d gotten late while you were copulating in the woods; a storm had swept in with the coming night, leaving you stranded in the dark.

You could have taken a portal to leave but you were truly exhausted, and Miguel’s gentle insistence that he keep you here eventually won you over. You agreed to sleep here for the night.

While Miguel slept beside you, you got to thinking.

As much as you’d enjoyed Miguel and this strange but welcome sexual awakening, you knew you couldn’t indulge this dangerous liaison a second time without protection. His insistence on getting you pregnant, while thrilling in the moment, wasn’t exactly an empty promise. You needed to go home before indulging again.  

After all, you did still like him a lot. He was handsome, in his own inhuman way, and the thrill of being taken by such a man was unmatched. He was strange but kind, stoic but considerate, scary on the outside and sweetly awkward on the inside. He was a monster, but, he was your friend.

Except, were you friends? Was that not a naïve thought now, bordering on absurd? You’d just been fucked into oblivion by him and told you were his mate. Your cheeks burned at the memories, still so erotic and fresh in your mind. Even if you stayed friends, it wouldn’t ever be the same.

You just had to discuss it later, you thought.

You reluctantly allowed your exhaustion to take over, and fell into a deep sleep at his side.

For the first half of the night you slumbered in a dreamless void, your body numbed by warmth and softness. You were too tired to dream. All you could do was recover in this blissful state, as your body processed what had been done to it.

You rested. You snored. You dozed against his sleeping, fuzzy form well into the night.

But then something else hit you.

Like a bullet to the gut you were overwhelmed by a sudden burning need. You squirmed both in your dreams and in real life, hands clutching at the silk sheets.

You were filled with deep, vivid, sopping wet dreams, ones that made you whimper aloud. You dreamed you were back in the woods in the dark, your body scrambling in the dirt as Miguel’s eyes burned against your back. You dreamed you felt his fingers massaging your cunt.

More.

In the dream he penetrated you with those calloused fingers, forcing you to squirt. In the dream he withdrew his hand just to admire your slick. He showed off the transparent strings as they clung to his fingers, before taking you to the ground.

More. More.

Your blood was pumping hard, almost too hard. You felt like you had a fever.

In real life you moaned. Your clit began to throb, quickly becoming swollen to the point that rubbing your thighs together was painful, as every muscle in your cunt began to clench around a cock that wasn’t there.

In the dream you felt his breath on your neck. You felt his claws piercing your skin as he took you from behind. You felt teeth impaling your skin just as his cock impaled your cunt. He was tasting you, devouring you.

More. More. More.

In a state of semi-wakefulness you squirmed in the bed, whining pathetically. You began to mimic the dream in real life as you hips moved on their own, grinding and bucking, trying anything to simulate what your body was craving. You rubbed your swollen labia against the cool sheets until they were wet.

Oh god, you were sweating. You were physically sweating and your skin was burning up.

More. More. More. More.

What was happening? Why?

It hurts, your mind screamed. It hurts, it hurts.

In this state of agony you didn’t have a chance to even think about it. All you could think was one thing: you needed to get fucked. You needed it. You needed something to penetrate you.

It was this carnal stirring which woke Mig from his own exhaustion.

He was adorably sleepy. His hair was curly and ruffled on his head, a stark contrast to its usual slicked back style, and his eyes were half-lidded as he struggled to wake up.

He probably would have gone back to sleep had he not smelled you.

The divine, intoxicating smell of his mate in heat, the most potent aphrodisiac. His heart pumped a little faster as his pupils dilated.

With a soft grunt he widened his eyes, only to find you mewling and begging at his side.

‘Mig… please… please, please- please—’

Your pleading turned to gibberish as you drooled onto the silk sheets, your nails scraping for release. He saw you grinding on the bed and immediately throbbed in response.

‘Mi tesoro?’

‘It hurts’ you whined. ‘It hurts, fuck- I need, please—anything—please, please, I’ll do anything—’

Oh no. He knew what this was. The grinding, the begging, the painful throbbing of an unsatisfied body? He knew the signs too well. It was exactly how he’d felt before when his rut had started.

‘Poor arañita’ he cooed. He bent and shifted his thick, furred spider legs to draw you in close. ‘Shh, I know, it hurts. Do you want me to relieve you?’ 

You physically bit the mattress to stave off the agony of being unfilled. ‘Mm… mm, mmhmm, mmhmm.'

‘Shh, it’s okay, I’ll help. Let me help.’

Miguel turned your naked body onto its back and eagerly shoved his head between your thighs.

You were on fire. You were so sensitive that every brush of his body became imprinted on your brain. The soft, thick tussles of his hair on your lower belly, the roughness of the skin on his jaw and chin, the warm wetness of his full lips as they spread you wide.

His tongue hit your pussy, and you almost cried.

It was like pouring water on fire. Your clit, aching and painfully swollen for attention, throbbed into submission the moment you felt his tongue. It was so wet, so warm, easily gliding over every inch of your slit.

His eyes glazed over as he started tonguing your vulva, his clawed hands drawing you deeper into his mouth. His muffled groans vibrated right through you.

‘Mm…. mm…’

You involuntarily began to grind on his face, eagerly pushing his nose against your clit for extra relief. He just let you do it. He submitted to you quickly, letting you grab his hair and ride his tongue while he gawked at you with those big red eyes.

You rode him for as long as your aching legs would allow, until they were physically shaking from the strain. When you collapsed back into the mattress Miguel withdrew in order to catch his breath; the fool had gotten so excited that he’d forgotten to breathe.

‘Ah… arañita, do you—’

‘Please- fuck me’ you rasped. You were trembling like a leaf with the intensity of your own need, an intensity which easily melted your concerns into vapor. His tongue wasn’t enough. You needed more.

‘Please’ you repeated, ‘please. Please fuck me.’

Miguel’s eyes widened in response. His abdomen began to gently vibrate with excitement.

‘Are you, sure? I can—’

‘PLEASE, please, Mig, just- fucking, cum in me, please!’

Your bark of an order was enough to make him melt with satisfaction on its own.

You rolled onto your front as Miguel frantically moved to mount you. His spider half folded down against your lower torso while his upper half collapsed against your back, his clawed hands quickly pinning your wrists above your head. You were squirming your hips to find his cock before he’d even gotten it out.

‘Please- please- please!’

‘Okay, okay, gently now. I know you’re sore, I will- try, to be gentle. Ah- fuck—I-I’ll try, I promise—’

He spread your legs with ease and his body began nestling itself into position. He was already erect so it was easy to let his phallus slip out and push between your thighs.

He allowed one of his back legs to remove the seal on your cunt, and with a guttural grunt he attempted to push his shaft inside you.

‘You- a-ah—you need to, loosen up for me, please, mi tesoro—’

Even in this state, with your cunt creamy and dripping with slick, he had to shove his way in. Your knuckles hurt from gripping the sheets so tight. You grit your teeth; you could bare it.

‘Come on… come on, please—’

Miguel pumped, and pushed, massaging your muscles until they stretched as wide as they could, and finally he bottomed out.

You cried for real the moment his thick girth split you open. Little pretty tears of relief clung to your lashes as he held you down, and with misty eyes you relished the feeling of his veiny shaft slowly squishing and exploring your insides.

At last, true relief. Each wet, filthy penetration from him seemed to rub away the pain you’d felt, leaving you in a blissful state of numbness and gratification.

It was like pouring cold water on a burn, like your internal muscles had been pulled and his cock was helping to massage them out. You moaned and panted with each thrust.

‘Mig… fuck… Thank you, thank you…’

You felt him bristle at your praise. He throbbed inside you so aggressively that your muscles clenched.

‘Poor thing’ he repeated. You felt him give one tentative thrust. ‘You poor creature. Now, let me- relieve you of your suffering.’

He only wasted a few short pumps getting you adjusted before starting to fuck you properly. He was aching to cum in you again now, just as much as you were aching to get fucked.

‘Poor little thing’ he repeated, his voice husky. ‘Is that better, sweet arañita?’

‘Yes- yes, yes, just-- Fuck me harder, please, harder!’ you begged.

Miguel obliged. He began to pump vigorously, punching the tip of his cock right up against your cervix with each thrust. You cried out with each one.

‘Harder- fuck, harder—’

You felt the full weight of his body and cock at once as he began pushing you to your limits. Every thrust caused his abdomen to smack against your ass and thighs, both of which were now raw from the impact. You felt your body jiggle with each slap.

‘Please’ you mewled pathetically. ‘Please, please- ‘s so good- so, good, please, more, please.’

‘Oh, I like this’ he panted. ‘You’re so- sweet, begging for me, mi arañita. So sweet.’

You drooled onto his hand as he gripped your wrists tighter. He shakily kissed the crown of your head.

‘You want my babies?’ he whispered, now utterly drunk on your pheromones. You, too drunk to know this was a bad idea to indulge, whined right back.

‘Mhm, mhm, mhm.’

‘You want my babies, arañita?’

He was crushing you beneath him at this point, thrusting right up to your navel with faster and faster pumps.

‘Please’ you whined, ‘I want- I want it, please—’

‘What do you want?’

If you weren’t somewhat superhuman yourself you were sure his aggressive mating would have broken your back by this point. You took it all in brainless ecstasy.

‘I want- you- to get me pregnant’ you pleaded, giving in to your own hormonal turmoil. He gripped your wrists so hard they ached.

‘Then take it’ he hissed. ‘Take it.’

‘Fuck- give it to me Mig—’

You felt his seed from last night pooling out and coating your thighs, dripping onto the silk below. It failed to saturate there so it just dripped down onto the floor, but you didn’t care. He was making room for more.

You clung to the mattress as he rocked you into it. His chest was heaving as he panted, and you could feel his sweat dripping from his jaw to your neck. You could feel he was close.

You begged for it. You prayed for that sweet release, knowing it would finally end the burning ache in your loins.

‘Fuck- fuck come here—’

He dropped your wrists and instead used both his hands and his soft forelegs to clutch your waist, pulling you to him. You winced as he started to physically drag your body up and down his cock, pushing it as deep as it could go.

‘Mmf- mmf- mmf- come on—’

His breath was so hot it condensed in the air like smoke, curling between his bared fangs. In this state he was far more spider than man.

‘Breed me, please’ you whined. He involuntarily hissed. You felt his claws digging into your skin, but it only served to fuel your gratification. You let him pierce you, you let him do whatever he wanted. Anything was worth it to kill the ache.

‘Mmf- mmf- mmf- mmf-!’

You heard him grunting with each rabid pump. They were getting erratic.

‘I’m- going- to- cum—’

He gave four hard thrusts to match each word he said, forcing a desperate cry from you. You clenched him and he throbbed back.

‘Going- to- breed you—’

‘Cum in me, cum in me, please—’

‘ARGH!’

You heard Miguel snap his fangs on nothing, biting the air with a sharp crack. The terror made you clench harder.

The brutality in his body, the primal drive, it was unbearable. You broke down and manoeuvred your hand beneath your body as he continued to pound it into the mattress, awkwardly massaging your own swollen clit.

You were so tightly wound that you came undone almost immediately. You orgasmed right as he hit his peak, spasming and screaming and sweating as those heavenly ripples of gratification turned your body to jelly, and Miguel tipped with you.

‘MMF- F-Fuck--!’

With a heavy groan Miguel climaxed inside you for the second time. His body heaved with each pump, each pulse, his abdomen nearly crushing your ribs as he bore down on top of you. Each spurt was pulsed as deep as it could go, filling the space he’d just emptied, until every inch of your cunt was thick and painted with his seed.

You both rocked to a stop slowly, only fully coming to a halt when the last bit of him was spent inside you. When you moved you felt it. Thick, viscous, warm. When he pulled out it was so heavy you barely even noticed his absence.

In a haze Miguel plugged your pussy with his web once more, before planting an exhausted kiss on your spine and nape.

‘Good… good arañita. Do you feel better now?’

In the aftermath it was like stepping out of a foggy room into the daylight. You panted as Miguel struggled to push himself back up.

‘What… did I do, oh god, fuck, I’m—’ You buried your face into your hands. ‘I’m so- sorry, that—’

‘No apologizing, arañita.’

While Miguel rose to fetch something from the other side of the nest you wallowed in guilt.

‘Oh my… GOD I’m so sorry—’

‘Oye. Arañita, I told you. No apologizing.’

You weakly shuffled on the mattress as Miguel returned with a wooden bowl full of rainwater he’d collected from the branches outside. You chugged it down hard, the cool drops sliding down your jaw and onto the silk beneath. Miguel returned to roaming the nest.

‘Did- why did I do that?’ you wheezed. ‘It- it hurt, it’s never hurt before—’

‘That’s how I feel when I rut’ Miguel said gently. He was busy trying to clear the egregious amount of his own ejaculate now coating the floor, and was struggling to speak at the same time. ‘I’m assuming, based on- inductive reasoning, that its just- part of the heat.’

‘But that- I’ve never done that before’ you argued. ‘I’ve never been that badly down, like I’ve ached from my sex drive before but that was—’

‘Well, that’s where I should probably apologize’ Miguel grunted. He’d finally cleared the bed and was now approaching your side once more, his arms apologetically folded.

‘What? Why?’

‘Because— Ah, well...’ You watched as Miguel sank back down to face you again, his hands clasped on the front of his abdomen in the same way one would clasp them in their lap. He didn’t look embarrassed so much as sympathetic to your plight.

‘Now we’ve- mated, it will make it worse. Before your pheromones were sent out to locate a viable partner, to- signal for one, but, now you’ve got one. So, your hormones will be pushing you to mate as much as possible. The same process is occurring inside me right now.’

You almost spat out the second drink you’d been having. ‘I’m- wait, is that it? But I’m not- I’m not, half spider, I’m not—’

As you frantically tried to wipe your chin Miguel stopped you, using his clawed hand to clear the little droplets instead. He looked endlessly patient.

‘You said yourself. We’re both strange on the inside.’

You blinked. Even now, that touch made you giddy.

‘I… Yeah, sure, but- but, why—’

‘Oh, mi tesoro. This is the point. This is natural.’

‘Natural…?’

‘Yes. Of course. It’s just what your body wants, what- mine, wants.’

‘So… so, are you saying this will happen again?’ you asked. Miguel, blunt as ever, just nodded.

You didn’t respond. You turned and stared vacantly at the wall as he watched you, and in your head you tried frantically to think of a plan.

You had to leave now, right? Before it’d been a little indulgence, a little slip, a need to taste something dangerous to fulfil your perverted dreams. But if what he was saying was true, you’d be bound here, unable to stop letting him fuck you until you were utterly spent and used.

You couldn’t do that right? You had already pushed a boundary by letting him cum in you unprotected once, but now twice? And god, it’d been so much cum. Plus, he was definitely getting rougher. If you kept this up you’d be in real trouble.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t. It was wrong.

Your mild panic must have shown on your face, as Miguel’s face slowly began to soften as he watched you.

Despite his own constant arousal, his own hormonal nightmare, he still saw you. He still saw you as the strange little human who appeared out of nowhere and showed him no fear, who went out of their way to show him affection and attention when no one else would.

For a moment, he felt guilt. Deep, old guilt, like a festering wound that never healed. Guilt for giving in, for tainting you with him, for becoming a part of you. He knew in his heart that when he called you tesoro he meant it, that you were precious beyond words, but he also knew that this was quite the jump he’d taken to keep you.

But he didn’t want to give you up, not in his rational mind nor in his instinctual urges. He wanted you to be happy, he wanted to serve you, but above all else he needed you. He needed you to be his.

‘Arañita?’

His words jolted you back into the moment, drawing you to face him. His eyes were soft on your face.

‘I…’

When you failed again to speak, he leaned in. He pressed his cheek to yours and gently huffed into your hair, allowing you to lean on his thick neck for support.

‘I’ll take care of you’ he whispered. Those words stirred the hairs on your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. His claws found your waist. ‘I’ll take care of you. You’ll be okay.’

You had to leave. You had to.

Slowly, you opened your mouth to speak. You had to talk. You had to face him.

But then it hit again.

The ache.

The pain.

Your whole body burned up in seconds, like a fire had been lit inside your chest. A low, agonised moan escaped your lips.

‘F-F…. Mmm, mmm…’

The change in both of you was instantaneous. All that higher thought, those soft human worries, they were drowned in your shared instinctual arousal. He smelled you and it took him like a drug.

‘Ah… arañita, you- smell so good.’

You bent over and whined, your naked body pressing tight to his chest. His abdomen twitched with arousal

‘Need- need more—’ you whimpered.

‘Already? Are you sure you’re—’

‘YES! Please, just- f-fuck, more, please, more!’

In a flood of burning panic, you kissed him. The way you both devolved into chaos, it was feral on both ends. Your nails clawed at his neck as his tongue went down your throat. You bit his lip, forcing him to groan. He took you to the floor.

You rolled about his nest in a tangled mess, scratching and biting at each other like dogs. Fighting for control, fighting for any relief that could tide you over instead of letting him take you again.

You lost the fight.

You went straight into doggie as Miguel clambered to mount you. He pressed his abdomen against your ass as his human hands dug into the ceiling for stability, framing himself as if he was doing pull-ups, all while letting his forelegs grip your hips. You faithfully mewled and bent your head.

Without words he opened the slit in his abdomen, releasing his cock so hard it bounced as it hit your rear. He didn’t even get a chance to praise you. In your ravenous, burning, aching state, you pushed him inside you, using your hand and bucking hips to help guide him inside. He slid into your walls with a devasting squelch, as cum and slick pooled and gushed from your cunt.

‘A-Ah, f—fuck, arañita.’

He was just as overstimulated as you, but he also couldn’t turn it away. He was just as tense, just as tightly wound. He groaned as you started to ride his cock like a sex toy you’d stuck to the wall.

‘That’s it’ he purred. ‘That’s it. Ride me. Ride your mate.’

You hugged his pulsing cocking with your walls, furiously arching back and forth. The violent slap of your skin against his abdomen filled your ears. You were sore, and exhausted, but nothing would satisfy you but this. Nothing. You needed this. You needed this monster to ruin you.

You rode him to completion once more, until you physically couldn’t stand.

Just one more, you thought between moans. Just one more time couldn’t hurt.

Just one more. Just one. Just one. Link to part five

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut with plot #drider #miguel x reader #monster human relationship #smut fanfiction

[tofuxtea]

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑 | 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 + 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — diluc ragnvindr x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, lingerie, somnophilia, dark/extreme content, dub/non-con (consent was previously established tho!), diluc is distant bc of work and reader tries to distract him but it doesn’t work until after you fall asleep, basically pussydrunk diluc lol, bit of aftercare at end :)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — not proofread, ngl this shit awakened something in me LMFAOOO

diluc never had time for you anymore. at first, it wasn’t an issue — sad replies of “sorry, love, i don’t have time right now” to dinner plans or twenty minute delays to relaxing outings because of unexpected work at the winery. you understood. diluc was a busy man — a winery owner for god’s sake.

it wasn’t until the first time he stood you up because he’d forgotten about the reservations after work ran a little later than usual and the many mornings you woke up alone, and then went to sleep in the same fashion did it start to affect you. every time, he apologized until your ears nearly fell off and every time you reassured him it was alright.

he was busy. he had work. that was okay! he was doing this to provide for the both of you — and you knew he would never hurt you intentionally. all he needed was a break, even if it was just for the night. you would gladly give him that.

so you got to planning. with some help from lisa, you found a gorgeous lingerie set at a small shop she knew. a cherry red lace bra and panty set with matching thigh garters and a sheer slip to go overtop. you remembered how much diluc adored that red dress you wore to your first date and you knew he would love this.

now you had to wait for him to get home. this time around, the winery was beginning to cool down with shipments, so diluc was granted the ability to work from home at night. tonight, he came home just as the sun was setting and you expected him to head right up to bed, but you came down a half an hour later to find him shut inside his study.

you had the set on already, clutching your fluffy white robe around yourself in case he had a servant out and about downstairs. he didn’t hear you open the door, nor did he spare you a glance when you sweetly greeted him. “i’ll come to bed in a bit, okay? don’t wait up for me if you’re too tired, love.” he’d said, and that was all you got from him. he mumbled something about ‘a few more orders to situate’ before you finally shut the door and trudged back upstairs, defeat weighing down your shoulders.

even an hour later, there was no sign of him retiring to bed any time soon. so you curled up under the duvet, unable to find the strength to take the set off, and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

diluc carefully opened the door late into the night, peering inside to find you in a tiny heap on your side of the bed. the steady rise and fall of your body told him you were asleep. he sighed, suddenly aware of how long he’d been downstairs. he settled onto his side, beginning to unbutton his dress shirt to prepare for bed, and leaned over to press a kiss to your temple when he caught a glimpse of a bright red garment lazily hidden by the covers.

curiously, he nudged the duvet down to your elbows and the air was torn out of his lungs. red, elastic straps nestled into your skin, lace adorning your sleeping body so beautifully. any sane part of him would immediately cover you up and curse himself for even daring to invade your privacy, but the tired, overworked half of his mind couldn’t stop staring. it wondered what it felt like, what your skin felt like.

shit. there was a vicious battle in his head as his hand hovered over your bare arm. for now, there was a clear winner. diluc gently rubbed your arm, easing you onto your back to admire the set. it molded perfectly to your body — your breasts, your hips, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. his breath came out in staggers like he’d been presented a feast.

no. his rationale began to push through the sea of hunger that made his fingers tremble and he paused. while you had fully established that you were okay with and actually welcomed situations like this, diluc wanted you to be awake for this. he’d neglected you for so long, you deserved to feel every bit of this.

no.

screw that. diluc clumsily climbed over your body to straddle your thighs, tossing the blankets off of you and fumbling with the rest of his shirt. he didn’t know where to begin; your soft, gently parted lips, your enticing neck, your barely clothed tits, your exposed hips where your slip rode up. he tossed his bunched up shirt along with the blanket before swiftly unbuckling his belt and easing the tension in his pants.

the tips of his fingers ghosted over your hip, inching the lacy hem of your slip further up your waist. “fuck,” he hissed, slipping his hand underneath the delicate fabric to cup your breast through the thin lace bra. it wasn’t enough. diluc grasped the clip at the center of your chest, snapping it open.

you stirred in your sleep, maybe reacting to the tickle of his red hair against the dip in your stomach as he lowered his lips to one breast, letting you settle before latching onto your nipple. the way your body remained slack under his touch was foreign to him and he thought about waking you up, but a small part of him liked the idea of doing whatever he wanted with no resistance. so he kept going, kneading your other tit with his free hand, enjoying the faint whines that slipped past your unmoving lips.

diluc worked sloppy kisses down your body until he reached the thin waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into either side and shimmying them down your plush thighs. he glanced up to your serene face, now cutely twisted into a pout in your sleep. the tip of his finger prodded at your cunt. you were already fairly wet and his thumb glided over your clit with fervor. your body reacted this time, lightly twisting and turning as broken, unaware moans filled the silence.

“that’s it, love,” diluc groaned, palming himself through his boxers. he slid his middle finger into you, enjoying the tiny flinch between your eyebrows. you were more turned on than he’d anticipated, adding another digit with no resistance.

as wrong as it felt, the flush rising in diluc’s face overpowered his morale. your thighs twitched, instinctively yet gently squeezing his fist as you clenched around his fingers. diluc stumbled on a gasp and his gaze had to meet your face to ensure you were still asleep. he was in awe when he saw your expressions morph but simultaneously showed no signs of consciousness.

he hummed, pleased with the warmth he felt slowly dripping down his fingers, and removed them. you hardly reacted, only a breathy whimper at the cold emptiness.

uncaring of the mess, he tore his boxers down his hips and hurried to hoist your leg underneath his arm.

with a slow thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside of you, groaning at how tightly you squeezed him even in your sleep. his hips stuttered at first, struggling to adjust to the feeling. when he was able to quicken his pace, the bed frame began to creak and you shifted more frequently.

each thrust drew whimpers from your throat and your eyebrows knitted together. but what really egged diluc on was when his name would slip from your lips in soft fragments. he wondered if whatever you saw behind your eyelids was consistent with what he saw with his open ones.

diluc didn’t think too hard about it, only pausing to push your thigh closer to your chest before continuing. he knew he wouldn’t last much longer and while he felt bad that you wouldn’t finish, he couldn’t imagine stopping.

“shit.” the man cursed through a sharp inhale when your body instinctively contracted. it was much more intentional this time around and you started to rouse from your sleep. diluc knew he should have shown at least an ounce of guilt, but when your confused eyes met his, he just couldn’t.

your eyes clamped shut as quickly as they’d opened when his hips slammed into you and a broken cry fell from your lips. you reached out and grasped diluc’s arms, fingers digging into his skin as your body tried to process your oncoming orgasm.

“diluc, ‘m so close,” you whined. “don’t stop, please.”

he couldn’t stop if he tried. a few more deep strokes and you came undone with a weak cry of his name. he followed soon after, not bothering to pull out. after seeing you all pretty in his color, hell, he knew you were just perfect.

“i’m sorry, love. i got carried away. are you okay?” his knuckles gently stroked the side of your face and he lost the sharp edge he had just moments earlier. red eyes scanned you for any signs of a negative reaction.

instead, your hand enveloped around his and you leaned into him with a smile. “are you kidding? if i knew you’d do that, i’d have bought this ages ago.”

me crankin my kinktober shit out in late december DONT JUDGE LMFAO -r

#genshin impact diluc #genshin impact kinktober #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc #diluc smut #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x you #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #gi diluc #diluc gi #kinktober #genshin impact #kinktober 2022

[ashsd3ad]

# t. fushiguro — eighth world wonder.

word count: 0.8 k

tooth rotting fluff; thoughts about having a kid (toji); reader is referred to as sweet girl and it’s implied she’s mamagumi <3; this is so fucking sappy.

he thought he let it go

he was sure he had left it, everything, behind.

his pride, his feelings, they had been left to die in that wretched childhood house of his.

so why?

why was his heart racing in his chest as he laid beside her, unable to sleep?

—

lay beside me

let’s share the gloominess

hand in hand in the darkness

i feel like i’m holding my life in my fist

her face was smushed in his chest, limbs tangled in an endless knot, skin to skin. disheveled hair framed those angelic features of hers he had grown accustomed to staring at, long eyelashes gently laid on her cheeks in her apparently dreamless slumber.

her chest rose and fell steadily, soft breaths hitting his pecs, penetrating his skin and flesh, going straight to warm his battered heart.

these devils around my bed

are waiting for me to fall asleep

the room was swallowed by darkness, thoughts swirling around his tired mind. toji was never the one to ponder much about his feelings; he acted, he didn’t waste time thinking.

during some particularly silent nights though, he allowed his brain to wander, he allowed his heart to be ripped out of his chest by his own consciousness.

the reality of my nightmares scares me

a knife rips my chest apart

it’s an open heart surgery

he had promised himself to never let the muscle between his ribcage feel again, the mere thought too painful to handle. yet, here he was, cradling her body like it was made of the most precious and fragile porcelain, expertly crafted to look flawless. just for him.

with the door and windows closed

the light can’t get through

but if your caress me i can reopen my eyes

tears dry

every wound stitches itself back together

he had honestly forgotten what comfort felt like for a long time, his body and mind getting accostumed to constant stress, anxiety and loneliness, all self inflicted. but then.. she stepped into his life.

with her soft giggles, lighthearted jokes and sunny smile, and she messed everything up. every wall he’d worked so hard to put up crumbling helplessly under the weight of her gentle voice.

i promise you, i’ll learn

to not hate everything i have

both in good and bad

wether it’s rain or snow

for your name, i’ll kill.

his merciless hands had ended many lives, cold and heartless in the process, but it never came from something personal, at least that’s what he liked telling himself. he was the one who left it all behind, the small satisfaction that came with eliminating a gifted one was just a small figment of his imagination.

so why did his entire body shake in pure fury only imagining someone bringing harm to the little slice of heaven he held in his strong arms?

lay down beside me

let’s share the sun

me and you, hand in hand in the desert

but when you smile, suddenly it pours.

i know who you are

you’re splendid, like your name

such a sweet girl she was, and that’s what he always called her. his sweet girl. if toji had to be frank, it was only fitting.

saccharine voice pulling him out from far more nightmares than he liked to admit, dainty hands pulling him back to slumber, running through his unruly locks.

she was so sweet, the sweetest.

suddenly, he felt her stir in his arms, his eyes quickly darting to the digital clock on her nightstand. 3:45 am. fuck, did he wake her? were his thoughts that fucking loud?

“mhmm.. ‘ji, why aren’t you sleeping?” she said, nuzzling her face into his chest, voice still heavy with sleep.

us, a monster and a little girl

hand in hand, navigating the world

towards a new life, i’m ready

this is the ascent from rock bottom

“don’t worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout that, sweet girl, go back to sleep” he replied, voice gruff and husky, while caressing her back in an attempt to lull her back to sleep.

“why don’t you join me, mh?” she readjusted her body, face now in the crook of his neck, trailing chaste kisses all the way up to his jawline.

“don’t wanna you bein’ all grumpy in the morning" she chuckled in a whisper.

my god, what are you?

the eighth world wonder

the gods’ daughter

you who made the impossible happen

gave me my will to live back.

god she was just so fucking perfect.

his hands trailed from her back down to her waist, pulling her into him more. he needed her impossibly close, bodies melting together, never wanting to let go.

that night toji realized he’d marry her, even give her a kid. maybe he could be selfish for once, and make another little blessing for them to share.

and if the world is too small for us

we’ll redefine space and time,

us.

“yeah.. sorry for wakin’ ya doll, let’s go back to sleep, ‘aight?” he squeezed her hips gently.

i love you.

☆

this was inspired by one of my favourite songs!

listen to it here !!

| @ASHSD3AD ‘S WORD, DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE |

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji brainrot #toji fluff #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #i cried #HE DESERVES RHE WORLD

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt3

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Class is over and I am finally back home so I can post this chapter here now lmao

Warnings: trauma, blood, blood drinking, violence, fear, self-destructive coping mechanism, emotional abuse, physical abuse (grabbing, pulling)

I can add more just lemme know what I missed <3

Word Count: 1,050

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

She haunts you again tonight. You could feel her hands running over your body, tugging your head to one side as she dug her teeth into the mark on your neck. You see her ruby red eyes, dark with desire for your blood, stare at you as she drinks, deeper and deeper until you can’t feel anything. Her smile, lips painted red with gore, as she coos you to unconsciousness.

You refuse another attempt at sleep. Your lids are heavy, your bones feel like jelly, but you can’t bear to go through this song and dance every night. You didn’t have her here to remove all rational thought and send you off into dreamlessness. And while it pleases you endlessly to be away, you wish for just one night where you don’t see her. The only time that’s happened so far was after Astarion came to you, begging for something more substantial to eat. His eyes, the same shade but somehow softer than hers, as he kissed your hand.

The moon and stars offered you no solace tonight. The moon was new - a shadow against the already-dark sky. The stars were covered by clouds. Laying still, on your back, made you restless. You could almost picture Kir Parthene crawling over you, straddling you between her legs.

Astarion finds you after his hunt, tending to the fire. It'd been close to cinders when he left, but now it burnt as though it'd never gone out. You threw dry twigs onto it and stoked it with a longer branch. He sat down next to you.

"If you keep staying up like this, dear, you won't be able to fight." His tone was teasing, but his eyes betrayed his concern. "Is it her again?"

You shudder and tighten yourself into a ball, protecting yourself from the dangers of the world. "I can't stop dreaming about her," you whisper. Your voice shakes; you're terrified of the hold she has over you. "She's always just... there. Lingering. Waiting."

The light flickers against you both. It's pleasantly warm. The shadows it throws only accentuate your exhaustion, deepening the circles forming under your eyes. Even Astarion doesn't look as tired as you.

The tadpole squirms behind your eye, swishing back and forth. You can feel Astarion's reaching out. "You don't want to see it."

"No," he agrees. "But I want to know." You look at him from the corner of your eye. His face is set. Serious. "Show me."

The tadpole doesn't stop wriggling as you think. You dig your fingers into your pants, searching for any way to ground yourself here, now, in this camp, surrounded by allies and friends. And you let him in.

He's immediately thrown into a memory - or perhaps something stitched together from your dreams. He sees through your eyes. He's terrified. His heart is racing against his ribcage, pounding so hard he's breathless.

The door slams open. A woman, tall and beautiful and vicious, marches in. "On the bed," she commands. It's almost a shout. He can't scramble fast enough. She grabs him by the hair and tosses him in the center.

But he doesn't make a sound. He knows, somehow, that screaming would only make it worse. Any sign of pain - she would tear you apart.

There is nothing erotic or sensual in the way she mounts you, grabbing your arm to pull your shoulder down as she rips your head to one side. He's suddenly aware of his nudity. He's on display, showing everyone just who he belongs to.

She digs her teeth into his throat, biting so hard and deep he fears she may rip out his jugular. She drinks deeply, messily. Blood drips steadily onto the bed. He can hear her gasping and sucking and- too much. It's too much.

His head spins, but he can't say anything. He can't feel his fingers, or his body. He can't feel anything. His eyes fight to stay open as he stares at the ceiling - an intricate painting of angels and devils lining the dome-shaped structure. And he's praying. He can feel it - thoughts just at the back of his mind, whispered a million times before, begging for anyone to save him. To spare his life. To live another day. Another hour.

Kir Parthene pulls away, drawing the blood on her chin to her lips with the swipe of a finger. She smiles. Wicked. Pleased. He wants to whimper and back away as she leans down, caressing his cheek and kissing his forehead, but he can't. He can't, because if he does, he'll be punished.

"My good pet," she purrs. "Sleep. Sleep, my precious little thing."

His head hurts as he's shot back to his own mind. He winces around the ache as he turns to you.

You're no longer shuddering. No longer gripping tightly to your pants. You stare into the fire with glazed over eyes. You're numb. Seeing it all again surpassed your fear and hollowed you out. Gutted you until you're nothing but a shell.

Regret and guilt sit uneasy in his chest. He reaches out slowly, delicately touching your arm.

And you gasp. Tears fall from your eyes in an instant, fear and the need to protect yourself turning to upset and sorrow. You shut your eyes tightly, hands rubbing roughly at the scar on your neck, like you'll remember you weren't bitten tonight. But you're going to scratch it open, and he's even more terrified of how you'll react if you do.

He grabs your wrists and hold your hands away. You fight against him, but not because you have to get away. You just need to feel that she's not there. "It's alright, love. You're alright. She's not here. She won't get you." He's not even worried about waking the others up - all he can focus on is you.

Slowly, your strength dies. You sob. It's ugly and broken, and more emotion than you'd ever let show around your master. He hushes you and lets go of your wrists to hold your shoulders. You cover your face. Your whole body shakes, wracked with each heaving breath.

"You're okay," he whispers again. He can hear shuffling as the others are awoken. He can't even begin to explain your pain to them. "You're safe. I promise."

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #angst #hurt/comfort #i come with knives

[luvfy0dor]

“Hands Under My Sweatshirt, Baby Kiss it Better ♡⁠˖” Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; BSD Spoilers, mentions of death, ch. 112 events, soft!fyodor

Description; Having a nightmare about your partner dying and waking up to him comforting you

A/n; i'm supposed to be doing a saq rn but I COULDNT NOT POST ON NEW CHAPTER DAY AHHHH I WANNA BE FYODORS MEDIEVAL HOUSE SPOUSE SO BAD IN EVERY LIFE TIME

ೃ⁀➷

Everything felt so real- you watched as your lover got into a helicopter with a briefcase containing an antidote, expecting a swift escape from Mersault only to be impaled by an iron rod. You watched as his eyes widened and his slender fingers wrapped around the pole. Blood trickled from both the new piercing in his midsection and between his lips while his breathing became shaky. He glared at another man in your dream who has been rendered faceless while speaking, although everything in the dream was silent so you couldn't make out any particular words or sentences.

The night terror didn't stop at your boyfriend being impaled, as a matter of fact it made you watch as the helicopter was messily flown directly into a tower and burst into flames with Fyodor still inside. You tried to hurry towards the aircraft, but it exploded before you could reach it. The blast didn't effect you, not scorching you or propelling you backwards at all, but letting you stand there and watch as all hope of getting Fyodor out of there shattered like glass. The crackling embers of fire surrounding you gradually became accompanied by a soft whisper-one that was all too familiar and thick with sleep. You were still in shock from the dream when your eyes snapped open, your legs curled inward with Fyodors chest to your back and his hand soothingly rubbing your side. "It's okay, Moya Lyubov, what happened?" He asks you, his eyebrows furrowed and his breath warm against your ear as he presses a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck. "Nightmare. You're...you're okay." You murmur, relief taking over your heart and mind. You rolled over, your body pushing his backwards a bit. "Ofcourse I'm alright. I'm not going anywhere, y/n, I promise. Was the dream about me getting hurt?" He correctly assumes, his tired gaze fixed on your own. "Mmm, worse, dying." You say, your heart finally returning to a steady pace.

"Ah, that makes more sense. You were very restless, you know." He tells you. "It's easy to tell when you have nightmares, you're like a dog. You make some distressed noises and kick your legs." He says with a grin. You sigh and close your eyes, pressing your head to his chest. "It's better than being stiff as a board though, 'cause that means you'll pick up on it and be all sweet and affectionate." You say. Your arms wrap around his torso like they would with a stuffed toy. "I'd say I'm rather affectionate regardless. You're just needy." He looks down at you and pushes your head out from his chest, kissing your forehead while his other hand slides up the back of your sweater and rests on the small of your back. You hum and twist the fabric of his tee-shirt between your pointer and thumb. "M'not needy." You roll your eyes and look up at him through your eyelashes. "If you insist." He says, closing his eyes and readying himself to delve back into a dreamless sleep. "Mhm..g'night, Fedya, I love you." You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips that gets his eyes to open right back up. He kisses you back and smiles faintly. "Good night, Y/n, I love you too, sleep well." His arm drapes over your side with the blanket strewn messily over the both of you. Now you could sleep a little more peacefully with the reassurance of your lovers presence in your arms, and more importantly, his safety.

A/n; i speedran this tbh, so I'm sorry if it's not great. Also, would if I made like,,, a taglist would any of y'all wanna be on it because I see so many people do it and it looks cool but I've been too nervous to like say anything or ask bc I don't want people to be like "ew no wtf" THATS LITERALLY NOT GONNA HAPPEN BUT LIKE IDK I'm scared djsjjfjekekak

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungō stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #bungo stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd dostoevsky #dostoevksy #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #fyodor fluff #bsd fluff #x reader

[runa-falls]

the other guy

summary: being stevens gf and waking up to marc fucking you

pairing: steven grant x reader (established relationship), marc spector x reader

rating: explicit (18+)

warnings: somnophilia, sleepy-girl!reader, dub-con, rough sex, hair pulling, no aftercare, not proofread :P

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: i wrote this in 2 hrs. enjoy?? or don't lol??

masterlist

-----

Steven Grant is the one for you. You feel like you've never felt so loved in your life.

You adore how he buys you flowers every time you go out like it's your first date all over again. How he asks about your day and genuinely listens to you when you blab about work drama for hours.

You love how his eyes light up when he talks about his interests and how he shows that he cares with shy touches and short kisses.

But what you especially love is how he loves you.

How he holds you like fine china as he fluidly rolls into you, or how he soothingly rubs his thumb against the softness of your thigh when he eats you out. Steven is obsessed with you and melts into your body with the faintest of touches.

But despite being so needy, he's still too shy to voice what he wants. That's okay with you because you enjoy watching how his cheeks bloom with a soft blush when you talk dirty to him. He practically crumbles at your feet as he hangs on to each breathy word.

You love Steven's soft eyes, nervous energy, and romantic love-making style. He's so sweet and you wouldn't change a thing about him. It's what makes Steven, Steven.

So when you wake up one night, pinned to the mattress, you almost think someone is taking over his body.

You can hear the shuffling of sheets, but your brain is still too tired to fully understand what's happening. An abrupt pull at your waist temporarily startles you awake from a dreamless sleep.

With your eyes closed, you burrow yourself further into the mattress, searching for a little more warmth to lull you back to sleep.

You only realize you're out from under the covers when a cool breeze of A/C blows over your bare back.

As goosebumps start to cover the tops of your arms, you feel a pair of warm calloused hands grab at your hips. They pull you upwards and gracelessly shove a pillow between you and the bed, amply propping up your hips as your face stays on the mattress.

A hand slowly drifts over your lower back and generously grasps the cheek of your ass. Another hand follows, spreading you to inspect the heat between your legs. You attempt to squeeze your legs together, but firm hands cease your movements.

"Stay still." A deep voice warns--a voice you're not familiar with.

Before you have time to process the new presence, a warm finger slides through your folds, languidly slipping through the wetness of your slick. He teases your dampening hole with shallow thrusts, watching as your cunt tries to suck him in while he's barely using any pressure.

Finally, he adds another finger and pushes in deeper, immediately hitting a mind-numbing spot inside of you. An involuntary groan vibrates through your chest as he begins to speed up, hitting every frayed nerve instead of you.

You start to shift yourself against the pillow in an attempt to stimulate your throbbing clit. Wet sounds fill the empty flat as he expertly works your cunt to the edge. You can feel the warmth of your slick spread from your thighs to the sheets below.

With the combined pleasures, your head starts to grow hazy and you can barely procure a coherent thought. Your thighs tremble and attempt to close around his arm as the heat in your stomach overflows.

"N-no, please, please, no more." Despite your efforts, he continues to push into you, forcing you to ride out your orgasm. As his hand is pulled away, you sigh with relief, ready to fall right back to the sleep you were interrupted from.

But before you could turn over to lay on your back, familiar hands keep you in place and hold your hips to the pillow.

You feel the bed dip around you as his legs come to straddle your body. The hard heat of his cock rests against the mound of your ass as he sits on the top of your thighs.

Beads of pre-come spill onto your skin and lovingly rubs it in with a satisfied sigh.

He pushes your back into the bed to make you arch your ass up for him before lining himself up to your well-fucked hole. You're still very messy from your last orgasm. His cock rubs through your slickness, preparing him to push into you.

Your eyes flash open as he pushes in with one motion. You squeal into the sheets when you feel the fiery sensation of being stretched so quickly. Usually, he makes sure to slowly work himself into you.

Rough hands grip at your hips to pull you back into him as he sets an aggressive pace. It's almost painful how deep he pushes in, filling you to the hilt with every thrust, but the pleasure of him prodding into your special area overrides any kind of discomfort.

You know you're going to feel it in the morning.

Moans spill out of your mouth as his fingers weave into your messy hair and yank your head backward. You feel the wet heat of his lips connect to your neck before the dull edge of his teeth trail down your sensitive skin. You never thought you'd like pain as much as you do now.

Raspy words are whispered into your shoulder, but you can't pick up on what he's trying to say. You can only answer with a whimper as his hips mercilessly slam into your ass, rocking the bed with each sharp movement.

The sound of your joining bodies follows the slippery noises between you, sending your body into a frenzy of buzzing nerves.

You can't help the way you flutter around him as all the stimuli floods into your body. "Mm...Good girl. Fuck." You feel his groan vibrate against your back as you tighten around him, so close to reaching the edge with nothing but penetrative stimulation.

His voice is deeper than usual. His accent--gone.

It's like he can feel you starting to pull back, despite how you're laying completely still under him.

He speeds up, making sure to hit you at an angle to blur any anxious thoughts bubbling in your mind. All you can do is take it. Every deep thrust, bruised mark, and eye-rolling touch.

Regardless of the mental turmoil you're going through, you can't stop the wave of pleasure that curls around you. It's intense. Heat vibrates up your legs and blooms at the center of your torso, immediately slackening all your muscles in one go.

You gulp down breaths as you start to come down from your high, barely registering how Steven sloppily fucks into you with uneven thrusts. With his last ounce of energy, he buries himself deep inside of you, spilling into the warmth of your cunt with a raspy groan.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #steven grant #marc spector #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac x you

[beneathashadytree]

FAMILY - JOTARO KUJO X READER

Warnings : semi-nudity, first-time parents, this is set between SDC and DIU, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff <3

Word count : 0.7K words

Additional notes : Been rewatching JJBA and yearning for a family with this man.

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“She’s so small.”

Jotaro’s voice was just as small; quiet enough that they barely heard him through the thin walls separating the bathroom from their bedroom. After having washed up a little in the middle of the night (something they rather enjoyed, amidst all the fuss of waking up at ungodly hours to feed their daughter), they made their way back to their room.

The scene they walked in on was something that must’ve come straight out of their most personal dreams, one that a younger version of them would’ve been pining after every single day and blushing furiously as their imagination ran with them.

There was Jotaro, lying back in bed with his legs crossed as he always was—only this time, his shirt was pulled off and strewn to the side somewhere. Jolyne’s tiny body was nestled against his naked chest, her clean skin a little flushed and all endearing. Her entire fist was curled around just one of her father’s fingers, while his other hand cradling her head was carefully brushing through her dark tufts of hair.

It was that sight alone that sent their heart pounding in their chest and threatening to burst through their ribcage with sheer adoration. “You’re really keen on listening to the nurse’s advice for skin-to-skin contact, huh?”

His response wasn’t verbal; just a nod of his head and a mesmerized look on his face as he watched their daughter coo a little at the soothing motions he did. She seemed to be just as attached as he was, half-asleep and blinking up drowsily at him, while still leaning into his every touch in the way that endearingly clingy babies did.

“Jolyne likes it,” Jotaro simply said, his teal eyes softer than they’d ever seen as he regarded Jolyne with that same rare adoration that he bestowed upon the very few people he adored, undeniably so. He only tore his gaze away from her to look at them as they crawled into bed beside their spouse and daughter. “It’s late, and you’re tired. You should sleep.”

“So should you.” Their hand came to rest on the left side of his chest, palm settling against the warm skin and feeling every reassuring thump of his heart beating. A soft caress only helped his heart to pick up the pace, and a small, almost-imperceptible blush to rise up the tips of his ears. “You’ve been getting up almost every single night, and even feeding her on the days I’m too exhausted. You need rest too, darling.”

Jotaro stilled for a few moments, before turning his attention back to little Jolyne, who seemed to be close to slipping back into her dreamless slumber. He didn’t utter a word for a bit; long enough for them to start doubting he’d say anything at all.

Until, that is, he broke the silence with six little words, softly spoken with all the yearning in the world, and with his eyes looking so tenderly at her; like he was cradling the entire world in his hands, despite being calloused hands that had—for a heart-achingly long time—only ever been used for violence and bloodshed.

“I don’t want to miss anything.”

It dug deep into their heart and nestled there, right with all of the millions of reasons they’d already had and learnt as to why they love him so wholly; that keenness of his that branded him as someone so fiercely devoted to the few he let inside his impossibly high walls. And it was a privilege that they wanted to cherish forever.

“You won’t miss out on anything if you just let yourself relax.” They leaned in to press a soft kiss to his slightly-stubbled cheek. “We’ll still be here in the morning, I promise you. We’re not going anywhere.”

All they got was a grunt to show that he was listening, and nothing more. Jotaro remained fixated on the sight of Jolyne’s chubby cheeks smooshed against his skin, and rosy with the happiness of a good feed.

But they could see how their words seemed to settle into his mind, as the tension unwound between his shoulders, and his body sunk deeper into the pillows he’d nestled against. The small furrow between his thick eyebrows had slowly melted away, and the ever-so-gentle quirk of his lips into a half-smile brought their heart to a near-stop.

He huffed out what sounded like a quiet chuckle. “I’ll hold you to your word, then.”

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @boorishbrambling @mrsgiovanna

#imagine #oneshot #anime #fluff #jjba #domestic #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo #jotaro kujo #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo oneshot #jotaro kujo fluff #jotaro #jotaro x reader #jotaro oneshot #jotaro fluff #kujo jotaro #kujo jotaro x reader #kujo jotaro oneshot #kujo jotaro fluff #dilftaro #jojo x reader #jojo fluff #jojo part 4 #diamond is unbreakable #jojo’s bizarre adventure diamond is unbreakable #stardust crusaders #jojo’s bizarre adventure stardust crusaders #jolyne cujoh #jolyne

[olivyh]

What if one day Jamil got so tired of doing everything for Kalim that he wishes that he could have more time for himself? And then for the next few days, someone's already helped him finish his chores, schoolwork, and other tasks (i.e bringing stuff to the teachers, preparing food for banquets).

Jamil's confused. Who could've done this? It couldn't be Kalim. But it also couldn't have been his darling s/o, right? Sure, they bring him a bento and small gifts everyday but that's normal. Until one day while bringing him his fixed school uniform, Jamil hypnotizes a student and asks him who was helping him behind the shadows. Lo and behold, it was indeed his s/o all along. Now, Jamil is rushing over to Ramshackle, and what does he see? S/o cooking a delicious pot of curry that Jamil loves. Cue Jamil proposing to S/o on the spot.

A/N: Jamil nation is back!! Midterms are almost up, which means (hopefully) a little more productivity! I've been struggling with some mental health stuff recently, so my works aren't as polished as i'd like them to be ;;;;;;

Jamil practically collapses onto his bed, his limbs feeling as though they were being held down by weights and his eyelids drooping pathetically as he tries to muster any amount of strength to at least get cleaned up after his busy day. The man feels as though he's covered in a layer of sweat, grime, and grease from all the running around- from having to cook breakfast and lunch for Kalim, to chasing after Floyd during practice (with no time between the end of it due to the mer deciding to climb onto the net and effectively rip it off the hinges and a lengthy explanation to the nurse and his twin brother), to rushing across campus to grab groceries to preparing for another party followed by cleaning it off...

Jamil groans and sits up despite his body's pleas for him to rest. His muscles ache as he weakly pulls out the charms in his hair- albeit a little rougher than he would normally be. He hardly has the energy to take out the birds and place all the accessories on his bedside table, opting to simply slip out of his hoodie and pass out with a tanktop and the lower half of his dorm uniform. He falls onto his back, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting even as he tried to relax, a wave of frustration cascading over his mind and making his heart clench until it nearly aches. It's only a matter of time before his eyes unwillingly slip closed, sending him into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he awakes without the blare of his alarm. He gasps and shoots up, scrambling for his phone as he climbs out of bed (when did he get underneath the blankets?) and reaches for his hair accessories (did he put those away last night?). He hastily casts a quick spell, watching as the magic swirls and effortlessly braids his hair back in his usual style, the few loose strands picked up by the boy as he tucks them behind his ear. He tries to ignore the slight tremor in his hand as he attaches the charms, tossing on his (washed?) blazer.

Jamil Viper knew himself well, he knew what he could and could not do, he knew his limits, he knew and carefully planned his every action and event to the minute, careful to not leave any loose strings that could come back and bite him.

This continued through the next week- suddenly all of his chores were finished, coming back to the dorm exhausted and mentally preparing to deep clean the kitchen or the common room only to find that it had already been done. Kalim's clothes were folded as well (the heir had been confused as well, having been asleep in his room while his clothes were left in the laundry room). He even noticed that much of his homework was done (albeit sloppily around the edges) and he would come back after practice to see that the cupboards had been restocked with groceries for the next week.

Jamil felt as though his head was going to split, he tugged at the end of his hair and bit his lip as he attempted to study, mind racing with the possibilities. Could someone be trying to replace him? Trying to get closer to Kalim? Did they have it out for him? He swore that if Azul had anything to do with this he was going to corner that bastard and take his broken glasses as a reward-

"Jamil? I was told to take this to you-"

"Hm?" He looks up, only for his eyes to widen s he takes in his now repaired basketball uniform- torn from Floyd grabbing it too hard and effectively ripping it from the collar down the center. He was humiliated having to walk back to the dorm essentially wearing it as a vest rather than a jersey.

Feeling a surge of annoyance, finally at his breaking point, he stares the student down, eyes narrowing as he feels the familiar surge of magic through his veins, tingling from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers.

"Who put you up to this?" He demands, taking a step closer to the hypnotized student. The blank red-film eyes stare back at him as the students' jaw hangs open uselessly.

"The Ramshackle Prefect," Jamil stops in his tracks, dropping his magic as he scrambles for the door, his bare feet slapping against the cold tile of the Scarabia as he rushes to the mirror.

He mentally berates himself- how could he be so blind? Jamil also feels a stab of pity that worms into his heart and makes him want to curl up. Had he unintentionally put that pressure on them? How could he not see the stress?

Looking back on it, he does remember how their movements were slowed, how their eyes held that slightly droopy look that he absolutely adored when they were laying beside each other in the late hours of the night, the way Grim glared at him when he stopped by their table for lunch (granted, the cat-like creature was prone to such childish actions, but he should have noticed how protective the monster got over the prefect).

The cold stone of the pathway to Main Street bites at his exposed feet, and he wishes he had bought his sandals to protect his feet. He trips over sticks, stubs his toes on rocks, and rushes through the bushes that cut through the forest on the way to the dorm. The chill of the air bites into his exposed skin as his lungs burn from running so far so quickly.

Once he finally arrives at the dorm, sweaty and out of breath, he catches a whiff of something that makes his heart pound even faster in his ribcage.

They were making his favorite food.

He swallows and raises a shaky hand to knock on the door. The sweat that had clung to his skin like a film began to chill in the night air, making him involuntarily shiver despite the warmth that blossomed in his stomach.

Jamil could barely catch their shocked expression to see him standing on their porch. He's sure he looks like a mess- his bangs clinging to his sweaty face, sweatshirt in disarray and basketball shorts exposing his legs despite the cold weather and, of course, his dirtied feet from the trek to the dorm. He envelopes them in a hug, ignoring their weak protests and complaints about getting sweat on them.

He backs away for a moment, cupping their face in his warm palms and gazing into their eyes as he takes in every feature- from the spice that had somehow ended on their cheek to the way their eyes crinkle when they smile at him.

He had practically lost control when he presses his lips to theirs, trying to convey all of his twisted feelings for them in one simple action- never enough, he'd believed. He could kiss them every second of every day and it would never amount to the amount of joy they gave him, the love he felt whenever he was in their presence. Every kiss was a different unspoken phrase, the words caught in his throat despite how slick he normally is with his prose.

'I need you' The kiss on their eyelid said.

'You're too kind' The peck on the tip of their nose.

'I want to keep you safe' The brush of his lips against their forehead.

'I don't deserve you' His lips ghosting over the soft curve of their cheek.

"Marry me," He mumbles, finally pressing a firm kiss to their lips once more.

They chuckle nervously as Jamil gasps softly, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he backs away, realizing that he had said the final one aloud.

They grip his hand and give him a once-over, sending him that warm smile that he wished he could hold all day and night- selfishly hoarding it and keeping it to himself.

"Wanna come in? I'm making dinner."

They don't have to ask him twice.

#twst #jamil viper #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst oneshots #twisted wonderland x reader oneshots

[farfromstrange]

Hey , I have an reader x Matt request. After a night at Josi's and the bottle of eel, Foggy spends the night with you and Matt in the apartment. You are all drunk, Foggy falls asleep on the floor. In the course of the night Foggy comes to your bed and cuddles up in the middle. Matt is not quite lucid the next morning and does not notice that Foggy is in bed with him and kisses him, after the kiss he is wide awake and realizes what is going on.

Hi, nonnie! I finally finished your request and I have to say, it was so much fun to write. It's shorter than what I usually write, but it's fluffy and it's fun and I hope I captured it the way you wanted me to. Have fun and I hope you're doing okay!

Honest Mistake | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: After a night at Josie's, Foggy spends the night. When Matt wakes up the next day to kiss you good morning, he soon realizes that it's not you who is lying next to him but rather Foggy himself.

Warnings: None? Maybe some alcohol consumption and hints at smut, but nothing explicit.

Word Count: 1.5k

Three drunk adults stumbling through the front door sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, especially when one of them is blind and intoxicated. 

After a successful day in court, it was Foggy’s idea to spend the night at Josie’s. Karen left early, but you, Matt, and Foggy stayed behind. The evening went well, you chatted and you laughed until Foggy ordered the bottle of eel he and Karen drank on their first night at Josie’s together. He was the first one drunk. You, being able to hold your liquor, took a while longer, but the strong alcohol eventually caught up with you too. Matt, who had sworn in the beginning that he would stay sober, knowing that either you or Foggy would end up dancing on Josie’s bar counter if he didn’t look after you, had one too many glasses of the ghastly grey liquor and eventually joined into your drunk babbling. 

It was your idea to split the last half of the bottle by doing a drinking game. For every object Matt bumped into on his drunk way to the restroom, you all had to take a shot. All of that happened because Foggy decided to tell the story of their time in college together for the millionth time and you, being anything but lucid, decided to make fun of it. In the end, all three of you were drunk off your asses. Josie called a cab for you, but even then you barely made it to the front door. 

You turn on the lights in the living room. Behind you, Matt is trying to sound as sober as possible when he says, “Foggy, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Foggy misses the uncomfortable leather furniture by a few inches and drops to the floor. As soon as his body hits the carpet, he’s dead asleep. You burst out laughing, not sure why you find it so funny, but Matt soon joins in. 

Not only ten minutes later, you are dead asleep in your shared bed, Matt on one side and you on the other. In your drunken haze, the thought of cuddling evades you. You’re only happy to finally be lying down, and then sleep catches up with you already. 

Matt’s sleep is dreamless. The alcohol lulls his senses and drags his body down. The city isn’t as loud, but his heartbeat thuds in his ears, and when the sun rises in the east the next morning, the headache starts before he even wakes up. 

Stirring, he rubs his tired eyes. He can’t remember how he made it to bed the previous night, but he can feel the warmth next to him. You. He’s gotten used to waking up before you, rolling over, and pressing a kiss to your lips to wake you up. Sometimes he would kiss your cheek or your neck, or he would pull you in to cuddle a little while longer. This morning, he decides to do it the old-fashioned way. 

With a groan, Matt rolls over and kisses your sleeping form. As soon as his lips find home, he notices something different. For one, you don’t stir. Two, you don’t taste like your minty toothpaste that he is sure you used even though you were drunk off your ass the previous night. And three, your lips are supposed to be far plumber than the ones he is touching. 

He’s not sure why he opens his eyes, but the shock settles in as soon as he uses his hand to touch the person next to him. He recognizes them, but it’s not you. While your scent is close to him, there seems to be someone between the two of you, and your lips are far away from where he can touch them. 

The person next to him finally stirs. It takes a second, and Matt starts realizing who is lying next to him. The realization turns into shock, and the person next to him shoots up as soon as he’s opened his eyes and sees his best friend hovering above him. 

“What the fuck?!” Foggy screeches and sits up. 

The shrill sound of his voice sends a sharp headache through both of their heads, but Matt’s cheeks are already burning enough for him to only focus on the feeling of shame. Not because of the realization that he kissed Foggy good morning but because he kissed his best friend instead of the love of his life. 

He stammers, “Uh…”

“Did you just-”

“Well…” Matt trails off. 

“Dude!” Foggy says. He is wide awake, his hangover momentarily moving into the background, and Matt does the same. 

They stare at each other, their cheeks bright red. 

“I’m sorry!” he tries to defend himself. “You’re not supposed to be here! I thought you were-” He points to the side of the bed where he suspects you are, and Foggy only sneers. 

“Do I look like I am?” 

“How am I supposed to know what you look like?”

“Oh, my God!”

“What the hell are you doing in our bed?!”

“What the hell are you doing kissing me?!”

“I told you, I was-”

The door to the bedroom opens, cutting the conversation short. Matt hears your heartbeat, the soft shifting of his shirt against your bare skin. Foggy catches a glimpse of your face, looks beside him, then back at you. They both look guilty, caught in an act that wasn’t even intentional. 

Your eyes switch from Foggy to your boyfriend, and then back at Foggy. “What’s going on?” you ask. 

Instantly, their fingers go up and point at the other. “He kissed me,” Foggy says. 

“I thought he was you,” Matt shoots back. 

“I obviously am not!”

“I notice that now, thank you!”

You look between them again, your expression unreadable. 

“I’m so sorry,” Matt prompts. 

His apology is cut short by the clear sound of your laughter filling the room. It breaks through the awkwardness but paints his cheeks redder nonetheless. 

“You did what now?” you ask, your voice still shrill with laughter, and it does wonders to wake their hungover brains. 

“I’m sorry, I really thought it was you, I-” 

“What?” You wipe some of the tears that had slipped you while laughing. “Me? Please!” You burst into even more laughter, your breath turning into a wheeze. “Oh, my God! I can’t-”

“It was entirely on him,” Foggy adds, pushing the invisible blame away from him. 

Matt glares at him. “On me? You came into our bed in the middle of the night without a warning!”

“I was cold.”

“Then get a blanket!”

“Guys,” you’re still giggling, but your voice still manages to shut them up. “Guys, calm down. It’s okay,” you say. “Let’s just take a step back here. Matt accidentally kissed you, Foggy because he thought it was me. It was an honest mistake.” You look at Foggy, your lip turned upward into an amused grin. “And let’s be honest here, coming into our bed in the middle of the night is a new level of comfort, even for you.”

Foggy shrugs. “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do,” he says. 

Matt listens to your heartbeat, seeing no sign of a lie. Still, he swallows. “Are you sure you’re not upset?” he asks. “I promise I didn’t mean to-”

You sigh and climb back into bed between them, roughly shoving Foggy aside. Leaning over, you press a kiss to his lips. “Good morning,” you say, trying to somehow clean up the mess they’ve made. 

He licks his lips. “You taste good,” he murmurs, “but I can still taste Foggy.”

You try your hardest not to burst out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” you choke out, “But this is by far the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Wait until I tell Karen about this.”

Matt’s eyes widen and Foggy screams at the same time he does, “NO!” 

“Yes,” you say. 

He drops his head in his hands and you take him into your arms, still chuckling. 

“She’s never going to let us hear the end of this,” Foggy says, his eyes as wide as if he’s seen a ghost. And maybe he did. 

“That’s the whole point.”

“I hate you,” Matt groans into your chest. 

You pat his back. “I know. Let’s just be happy it was just a kiss and nothing more… intimate,” you say. 

Foggy cringes. “Yeah, let’s not even go there.”

“Seriously, that’s the most innocent way he wakes me up, sometimes he uses his mouth in other places-”

He doesn’t hesitate to jump off the mattress. “Gross!” He heads for the living room. “I’m out, I don’t need to hear this. Bye!”

Matt looks up, his cheeks the deepest red you have ever seen. When you meet his eyes, a mischievous smile on your lips, he shakes his head. “Was that necessary?” he asks. 

“You know you love me,” you say. 

He sighs. “I do.”

When you lean forward to kiss him again, he stops you. “I need to brush my teeth.”

“Why?”

This time, he makes sure to say it loud enough for Foggy to hear it, “‘Cause Foggy’s breath smells.”

In response, one of the couch pillows flies its way into the bedroom. You giggle again, knowing that this story is definitely not going to waste. 

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x you #no y/n #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #daredevil x reader #request #lizzi answers

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Almost Forgotten Dreams (Part 1 of 2) ~ Morpheus x Reader

Summary: Morpheus being there for you after an abusive (ex-) partner tries to get to you. II angst

READ PART 2 HERE

Requested: no Pairing: Morpheus x gender neutral!Reader

A/N: I know, I literally posted a Morpheus fic a few hours ago but I couldn't help myself. Also, this was a little bit inspired by the Calliope episode. Enjoy! Words: 1.3k Warnings: mentions of attempted domestic violence

“Morpheus.” You hadn’t said his name in years. Now, it sounded strange in your ears. And yet, when he appeared in the darkness, cold eyes searching for yours, relief flooded over you.

“You called.”

Hearing his voice was too much. You broke down, right then and there. Your knees hit the gravel as tears begin to stream down your face. Sobs made their way up your throat and before you knew it, your whole body shook in terror.

Morpheus was immediately by your side. He knelt down next to you, his hands reaching for yours. His face darkened and his posture became stiff when he noticed the blood on them. “Are you hurt? Who did this to you?”

“I…”, you weren’t able to speak and shook your head instead. Your throat closed as more tears came down running your cheeks. More sobs. Everything hurt.

Morpheus held you for minutes. Patiently, he waited for you to calm down, to catch your breath. When your breathing slowed, he asked softly: “What happened, Y/N?”

“He … he tried to hurt me”, you whispered. The true meaning of this words still hadn’t reached your brain. The shock of your fiancé striking you was too monumental. Never had he raised his voice let alone his fists. And although he missed and the blood on your hands came from a mere fall when you stumbled down the stairs into the night, your body was still filled with fear. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What about your fiancé?” It hurt, hearing those words from him. The way he said fiancé … but could you really blame him? After all, you were the one who left him. You lifted your head and looked him right into his eyes – and he understood. He clenched his jaw at the realization.

“I’m glad you called me”, Morpheus whispered. “Come.” Before you had the chance to protest, he scooped you up as if you weighed nothing.

***

Morpheus brought you to a hotel. On the way there, you drifted in and out of consciousness. You vaguely remembered nightmares, the image of your fiancé with his hands raised, and then Morpheus voice. “Come back for me, Y/N. You’re wandering, love.”

When you realized where you were, he laid you down onto the hotel bed. Softly, carefully, as if he handled the most delicate flower. A memory flashed through your mind to times when he carried you to bed like this every night. You protested weakly, not wanting to stay in a hotel.

“Right now, I can let you choose between a hotel, your own apartment or a park bench. For obvious reasons, only one of these choices is valid”, he replied in a dry tone. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “You need to rest now, love.”

He sat down beside you, his hand resting on your shoulder. Your eyes were already closed, the events of the evening crushing down on you with full force. You were so tired.

“Morpheus?”, you mumbled sleepily.

“Yes?”

“Stay with me, please.”

“I’ll see you in the Dreaming.”

“No,” you shook your head against the pillow, “I don’t want you in the Dreaming. I want you here … please.”

There was a brief pause and for a second you feared he had already vanished. But then you felt the mattress dip as he laid down beside you.

***

You fell into a dreamless sleep and you were thankful for it. When you woke, Morpheus was gone.

The hotel room he had booked was huge and much more luxurious than you were used to. You sat up, still tired, still a little shaken, and unsure what to do. Then you heard a caw outside your window. A raven sat on the window sill. You smiled.

You got up and went into the bathroom where you found small note on the mirror. Spend the day here. I will see you tonight. – M

“Thank you”, you whispered. You didn’t know how well you would have handled it if you were forced to go back to your apartment just yet. So instead you spent the day in the hotel room. You took a bath, eventually let the raven in – his name was Matthew as you found out – and watched TV together. In the evening, you fell asleep before the sun went down.

“Y/N.”

You stood upon a bridge and looked down on a lilac river. Morpheus appeared next to you, silently.

“You remembered”, you whispered as you watched a pair of ducks swim across the water.

“Of course.”

This had been one of your favorite places back when you were still … with him. Something tugged at your heartstrings and you blinked.

“Thank you, Morpheus”, you said. “For being there. I don’t know … what I would have done last night without you.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at you.

“I realize that I had no right to call upon you.”

Now his head snapped up. “What makes you say that?”, he almost demanded to know and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I … the way we parted …”

“You left me for the chance of a normal human life”, he said the words you couldn’t find, “Who am I to judge you for that?”

A short but bitter laugh escaped you. Almost as bitter as his words had sounded. “You’re Dream of the Endless.”

Suddenly, the expression on his face changed. There was an overbearing sadness written in the stars of his eyes. “I am glad you called. You were hurt … I can’t stand to see you hurt.”

You were silent as you looked at him, took him in. Emotions overcame you and it was almost too much. Five years had passed and you still loved him the same way as when you left him. Why did you leave him? Because you made yourself believe that a relationship with one of the Endless had no future. He couldn’t love someone like you. You couldn’t be loved by someone like him. It was madness. No, you had broke it off, in the hopes to be able to forget him. To find a nice man, live a normal life.

What an idiot you had been.

Dream turned his gaze back to the pair of ducks. “I dealt with him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “My fiancé?”

His silence was answer enough. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know more. So instead of asking, you carefully reached for his hand. “Thank you.”

He stood still, frozen. You took a step closer and rested your head on his shoulder. A few seconds later, Morpheus let out a breath and ever so slightly relaxed into your touch. When you lifted your head, he looked at you. The pain in his eyes almost knocked the air out of your lungs.

He bowed his head, slowly, as if he waited for you to stop him. You didn’t. And then your lips touched. It was a ghostly kiss, barely there, and yet it was loaded with so much emotion that his grip on your hand grew stronger with every passing moment.

When you finally pulled back, a single tear rolled down your cheek. “I have to go now”, you whispered. You let go of his hand and before he had the chance to see you break down a second time in the span of forty-eight hours you walked away from him.

“Y/N?”

You stopped and turned to the King of Dreams. If you hadn’t known better, you could swear there was a tear running down his cheek as well. You swallowed.

“May I see you again?”, Morpheus asked.

You hesitated. “I need time to sort …”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“But one day … yes,” you said and smiled. “Yes, I’d like that.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “When you’re ready … you know where to find me.”

Thank you for reading! If you want to be tagged for future stories, let me know &lt;3

READ PART 2 HERE

#morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x you #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman dream x reader #the sandman dream x you #the sandman morpheus x reader #the sandman morpheus x you #dream the endless x reader #dream the endless x you

[saphirered]

for the prompts candlelight fluff with helion??

Ask and you shall receive! Tooth rotting fluff. 😘

Unlike the season courts Night, Dawn and Day adhere to the rules of this world. They do not remain a constant. As such the nights grow longer and the days colder. The rays of the sun become rarer and more distant. The radiant heat does little to warm cold bodies and when the light fades, what more is there to illuminate the darkness? Thousands of lanterns light the paths most often traversed. Candles litter the hallways and chandeliers in the homes and palaces casting that warm golden glow. Despite what Prythian might expect, the people of Day welcome the colder days. Where the sun is lacking they bring warmth of their own. Their High Lord is no different. He finds when the cold settles within him, when his glow is less bright, there you are, like the will o’wisps guiding the lost back where they belong. 

Even now, Helion has been hitting the books from dawn to dusk, until the words dance before his eyes and he can see no more the scribbles of ancient texts. The keepers of the palace have begun their journey, replacing the old lanterns and candles, and lighting those still usable. He rubs his eyes, pushes back from the stacks he collected and rises. His back hurts, his neck too and his head rings with a dull pounding. He hears your warning echo through his head. You’d told him to move every once in a while, to get up and put the books aside. Instead of heeding that warning he had binge-read what he could and couldn’t remember when he last got up from that chair since dawn. You’d give him hell for it. Helion missed your company and he supposes even your scorn would be a relief at this point. He’ll bear it. Not that you’ll be mad at him, nor will you remain upset. You’ll be more likely to look at him with a hint of exasperation. Nothing a kiss can’t fix. 

Wandering among the familiar halls is but a haze, his mind has floated off somewhere far beyond and he is but a ghost stuck in the same routine until that familiar door comes within sight. No light bleeds from under the crack. No sound emits from beyond that carved mahogany. It’s just dark, light and lifeless. Still Helion wanders in, the door falling shut behind him. Was he not so familiar with this space the complete darkness might have had him tumble and fall over the furniture but this had become a habit, was it not for his exhaustion or whenever you had yourself occupied with his lips, your fingers in his hair and your legs wrapped around his waist as he held you. He’d become quiet used to navigate the space without the need for sight. This time it was not your glorious being that required him to use that memory. This time Helion finds himself without the energy to make it to the bedroom and instead unceremoniously allows himself to drape over the couch, making himself comfortable among the pillows as much as possible. He lets the darkness carry him off and dreamless sleep enter his soul for some rest at last. 

You were late. You got carried away in some ongoings and plannings for the upcoming months, dealing with correspondence and ambassadors who did not so much adjust to your schedules it seemed but still you handled yourself graciously. You’re tired and glad to finally be on your way home. If anything, you don’t know how he does it. Helion doesn’t know you took on more of the tasks set out for him but you’d seen him struggle between helping his friends and running his court. You might not be as well-versed in the ways of healing or be able to pick the exact book you need off of any shelf within those endless libraries, but you know you can put up with people and so you did, for his sake. He’d been so engulfed in his research he hadn’t even noticed the passage of time, let alone the seemingly endless list of responsibilities suddenly needing less attention. You’re glad for it. 

It is days like these where you follow the lanterns until you enter the palace. The staff and residents have long since lit the candles that line the halls creating the every lasting golden glow you’re used to, now even more prominent in the darkness of night. In a way it reminded you of the muted glow you’d woken up to on many occasions, when that power of Day bled through the restraint its wielder kept. It never failed to bring a smile to your face. You know at times he’d do it on purpose if only to see that very smile and it had simply remained an unspoken truth. 

You approach the doors you’re all too familiar with but do not see that golden glow from within. Instead you see a basket of candles set out at the door, some wicks too. You shake your head to no one in particular as you pick up the basket and are met with darkness. You have the mind to light one of the candlesticks from one of the flames outside, that very source of light being the only one to illuminate your path. You don’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary and thus simply make your way through. Setting the basket on the side table the glow of that singular candle illuminates the fae shape on the couch, the peaceful features and gentle rise and fall of the chest. 

Helion is fast asleep. You kneel down to brush some hair from his face and take the blanket from the back of the couch to gently drape it over him. Quietly you make your way around to the other side of the room and light the candles already set out and replace the burned out ones, collecting the wax remnants in the assigned bowl. Slowly but surely the room is cast in that same golden glow you’re used to. The cold air begins to grow warmer. Every once in a while you’ll cast a glance over your shoulder to still see the High Lord fast asleep. You hum to yourself as you move through the room until your task is complete. 

A gentle melody guides him back to consciousness. No more does he feel that night cold within. Even behind closed eyes Helion notes the light that was not there before. The air feels different, more alive and more welcoming. The smell of melting wax and firewood enters his senses. With a satisfied sigh he opens his eyes. Your steps are featherlight as you illuminate the path you take, candles sparking to life in your wake. When you turn and see him, eyes as golden as the glow around you smile and Helion melts inside. You set the last candles. Alight like a halo behind you, like a truly angelic being you close into him as he rises onto his elbows. You catch onto his slight wince as he rises. 

“What did I tell you about reading for too long like that?” You scorn playfully. 

“I will better heed your warning next time, my love.” He all but grumbles, sleep still heavy on his voice. You chuckle as he sits up fully and you sit next to him letting your fingers lace with his as a mere force of habit. He brings it to his lips and kisses your hand watching the flush spread through your cheeks. Beautiful. 

“Promising words yet no true promise I hear.” You retort. He looks at you through his lashes in a way that admits guilt. “Move over. Turn your back to me.” You order. Helion raises an eyebrow you just roll your eyes. He does as he’s told either way. You have half the mind to mutter ‘good boy’ but keep your comment to yourself lest this turns a certain way before you get to do what you intend to do. 

“While I’d prefer to see your face, I’m curious to see-“ His words are cut off by his own moan when your skilful fingers work the muscles of his back, starting right between his shoulder blades. Damn does it feel good. He can feel the tension release as you go, working down his spine, across his shoulders and up the back go his neck into his hairline where you hit just the right spot that makes him feel lightheaded. 

“Please don’t stop.” Helion breathes when your hands pull away. 

“Not so opposed now, are you?” He can hear the smile and satisfaction in your words. The candles dance in his vision, their warmth and light pulsing with his own and it takes him a second to realise he is glowing too. When he goes to snuff the flame within him you stop him. 

“Opposed to your touch? Never.” He muses with a deep sigh. You keep working, untangling every muscle that burned throughout the day, washing ease and calm over him until his shoulders slump and head hangs lower. Only then do you stop. He makes a sound of disappointment but is quickly sussed when you get up from your spot and push him back among the pillows on the couch. Your hand on his shoulder, he takes your wrist. 

“Now rest a little while longer.” You go to step away but he keeps his hold just light enough to make it noticeable. With a gentle pull, You sit on his lap and feel his fingers dance up and down your spine. You’re not opposed to his advances, in fact you welcome them but you do grumble when you bring your lips to meet his, when his arms wrap around your waist and hold you close until you’re laying on top of him. Even when the kiss ends and he tucks your head beneath his chin, where you can hear the ease of his heartbeat, when you melt into his warmth, he glows like the candles and so do you. 

#helion x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #helion x you #helion spell cleaver #helion acotar #high lord helion #a court of thorns and roses #sjmaas #sjm fic #sjm fanfic

[sequinsmile-x]

Friendly Fire

Emily thinks someone has broken into her apartment, but it's just her boyfriend coming over to surprise her.

Too bad she only figures that out after she's punched him in the face.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is a little silly, hopefully a little funny and a lot fluffy. The perfect combination for a Monday evening.

I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Some curse words, mentions of blood

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily groans as she checks the alarm clock on her nightstand, blowing out a breath as she registers the time. 

11 pm. 

She knew in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t late, not really, but the team had just got home from almost a week long case and she was exhausted. She’d got home, showered, slipped on one of Aaron’s shirts and crawled into bed. That had been almost two hours ago and she still hadn’t slept a wink. Her exhaustion made her body heavy, her limbs feeling like they were made of lead, holding her down to the mattress as she stared at the ceiling, her brain not shutting off, not letting her relax, even though she’d fought sleep on the jet home. 

Ever since Ian had torn through her life, ripping away any sense of home, of comfort, that she’d build herself she’d struggled to sleep. In Paris it had been easy at first, the painkillers she was on enough to lull her into a dreamless sleep. Then she didn’t need to take them any more and the night became longer, stretching out ahead of her until dawn would work its way through the cracks in her blinds, signalling the start of another day of her solitude. 

The inability to sleep properly had followed her home, chasing at her heels as she settled into a new apartment, desperately trying to fit back into a life that no longer felt like hers. 

It was only when she started dating Aaron, when she’d snuggle up next to him in her bed or his, she’d be able to sleep soundly. Comforted by his embrace and the safety that followed him like a cologne, warm and settling over her whenever he was nearby. In the few months they’d been together they’d rarely had a night apart, falling into a relationship neither of them knew they’d been looking for.

This was one of the rare nights they’d gone home separately. He’d been pulled into a meeting when they landed, and then had to go pick up Jack, and he’d clearly seen how tired she was. He’d smiled as he kissed her forehead and sent her home, saying he’d see her tomorrow. 

And now she couldn’t sleep. 

She sighs as she gives up, and yawns as she stands up, stretching her arms over her head, the material of his shirt skimming the very top of her thighs as she does so. She rolls her neck as she walks towards her bedroom door, determined to get a snack and then bring it back to bed. 

She’s only just in the hallway when she hears it. 

Footsteps deep in her apartment that make her freeze on the spot, brief panic capturing her breath in her chest. She shakes it off, her training kicking in and taking over. She steps into the hall, wincing as she accidentally steps on a creaky floorboard, still not entirely used to all the noises and intricacies of her relatively new apartment. None of the lights were on, the apartment bathed in darkness, and she knew she could use that to her advantage. 

She presses herself up against the wall, making herself as small as possible as she edges towards the living room where she can hear the noise coming from. She curses herself for putting her gun away, the safe in her home office, on the other side of the person in her living room, and she blows out a breath. Centering herself for a moment, worse-case scenarios taking over for a second, and she wonders if she’d actually fallen asleep. If she was caught in one of her nightmares where Ian wasn’t dead, when he still lived in the shadows of her life. Waiting for her in every corner. 

The footsteps get louder, walking towards her, and she gives it a second, keeping herself hidden until the last possible moment. She steps out, her hand forming into a fist as she punches out, hitting her would-be home invader squared in the nose. 

“Fuck.”

Her eyes go wide at the familiar voice and she curses under her breath, reaching for the light switch on the wall next to her, gasping as she switches it on.

“Aaron?”

He looks up at her, his hand cupping his nose, blood trickling through his fingers, “Hi, Em.” 

“Oh my god,” she exclaims, leading him towards the kitchen, helping him lean over the sink as she pinches the bridge of his nose, reaching for paper towels with the other hand to try and wipe away some of the blood to access the damage, “I’m so so sorry, honey.”

He groans, clearly trying to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did, “It’s okay,” he says, clearing his throat, grimacing at the taste of blood that had worked its way into his mouth, “I should have called first.”

She smiles as she pulls away the paper towel to get a better look at his nose, grimacing at the sight of it, “I think it’s broken,” she says, “I thought someone had broken in…I wasn’t expecting you-”

She apologises again as he hisses when she touches his skin, the pain radiating outwards from his nose across his face, “Jack was asleep by the time I got out of work and I didn’t want to wake him,” he explains, “I thought I’d come here. I know you sleep better if I’m here with you.”

Emily groans, somehow feeling worse something that she hadn’t thought was possible even just a few seconds ago and she cups his cheek as she wipes under his nose again, the blood immediately replaced. “Please stop being the best boyfriend ever for a second, it’s making me feel even worse for breaking your nose.” 

“Sorry sweetheart,” he replies, smiling, and immediately wincing at the pull of it, when she glares at him, “Sorry.” 

She shakes her head and removes the paper towel, grimacing and disposing of it on the pile of used ones next to them, “The bleeding isn’t stopping at all, I think I’m going to have to take you to the hospital,” she guides his hand to hold the paper towel there herself as she searches for her keys, remembering vaguely that she’d dumped them in the kitchen when she got home earlier. 

“Em-”

“You’re not arguing with me on this,” she says, not looking at him, still looking for her keys, “You’re bleeding and you need to get looked at.” 

“Not that,” he says, raising his eyebrows as she looks at him, his eyes flicking down to her legs, “You’re not wearing pants.” 

She looks down and sighs at the sight of her bare legs sticking out from below the shirt she’d stolen from him. “Right,” she says, clearing her throat as she looks back up at him, “Pants. Then hospital.” 

___

“They are taking forever,” she says, popping her head around the curtain that separated their cubicle from the next. 

“Em, it’s fine,” Aaron replies, his voice slightly muffled by the ice pack he was holding to his face. He reaches his spare hand out to her and beckons her over. She huffs out a breath and walks over, linking their fingers together as she sits on the edge of his bed, “They probably have bigger cases to deal with.” 

She hums, not sure what would be more important than her boyfriend’s broken nose, his pain and discomfort removing all sense from her brain. Especially since she’d been the one to cause it. She looks at him and she places her hand over his one the icepack. 

“Here, let me do that,” she says, smiling as he lets his hand drop away from it. She chews on her lower lip at the sight of the bruising that was already appearing under his eyes, something she knew would be much worse by morning, “Honey-”

“You don’t have to keep apologising you know,” he says, squeezing the hand that was wrapped around his, “I know you didn’t mean to do it.” 

“I do have to keep apologising,” she insists, “I broke your nose.” 

“By accident,” he replies, and she sighs, closing her eyes as she shakes her head. He runs his thumb back and forth on the heel of her hand, trying to rub comfort into her skin, “Sweetheart, one day we’ll laugh about this.” 

She looks at him and raises her eyebrow, “Really?”

“Well, maybe once the swelling has gone down,” he clarifies, pleased when he drags a smile out of her, “I’m sorry I scared you.” 

She sighs, his apology feeling misplaced, “You-”

“You thought I was Ian didn’t you?” 

She stares at him for a moment and she considers lying. The words caught in her chest, ready to break free, an old coping habit she couldn’t always stop. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to him, not when he’d asked so tenderly, when he was looking at her so lovingly even though she’d hit him when defending herself from a phantom that hadn’t been there. 

“Yes,” she admits, her cheeks burning with embarrassment she hates, “I did,” she looks down at their joint hands, loving how their fingers fit together so perfectly. If she believed in soul mates, if she truly thought that there was one person out there for everyone, she’d know he was hers, “I know it’s stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, cutting over her, encouraging her to move the ice pack away so they can look at each other properly. He sees how her eyes flash with sadness at the sight of his nose, and he can only imagine what he looks like, “I still sometimes think of Foyet when I hear a noise I can’t place,” he tucks her hair behind her ear, “These things take time.” 

She nods, turning her face to kiss his palm, “Okay,” she says, kissing his palm again, “I’m not going to stop apologising any time soon though, okay?”

Aaron chuckles and he nods, “Sure, sweetheart. But just know I forgive you.” 

She smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, “That’s a shame,” she says as she pulls back, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “I was going to say this puts me in some serious blow job arrears.”  

There’s a beat of silence and he clears his throat, “Okay, maybe I haven’t completely forgiven you.” 

She laughs, but her response is cut off by a doctor clearing his throat, the expression on his face when they both turn to look at him letting them know just how much of their conversation he’d heard.

___

“Are you sure you don’t need any painkillers?”

Aaron smiles at her and shakes his head, “Sweetheart, I’m fine,” he says, “Now get into bed, it’s late,” he looks at the alarm clock and grimaces, 4 am blinking back at him, “Or early I guess.” 

She sighs and takes off her pants, crawling into bed next to him, resting her head on his chest, and smiling as he wraps his arms around her. She tilts her head to kiss his jaw and then settles back down. 

“I never said thank you for coming over,” she says, running her hand up and down his t-shirt covered chest, “It’s really sweet.”

“I sleep better when I’m with you too,” he replies, running his fingers through her hair, “Although, I think the broken nose might make even that tricky for a week or two.” 

She looks up at him, her glare obvious even in the dark of her bedroom, “Not funny yet,” she says, and he nods, pulling her in for a kiss, wincing as he pulls back and she pouts slightly, “I’m going to miss the kissing.”

He frowns, “Why is the kissing going anywhere?” 

She rolls her eyes, “It clearly hurts you-” 

He cuts her off as he pulls her in for another kiss, barely covering a wince as it ends, “Worth it.” 

She shakes her head at him, “You’re ridiculous,” she says, smiling as she pushes her fingers through his hair, “I love you.”

Aaron smiles, “I love you too,” he replies, and she settles back onto his chest, “You know what would stop this from happening again?” He asks, running his fingers through her hair.

“You calling when you’re on your way?”

He chuckles, “Well that,” he says, taking a deep breath before he carries on, unexpected nerves filling his chest, “Or, we could move in together. Then you’d always be expecting me.” 

She hides a smile in his chest before she looks up at him, her chin resting on his shoulder, “I’d like that,” she says, kissing him gently, a delicate thing against his bottom lip, “I’d love that.” 

“Me too,” he replies. She settles back down on his chest, curling herself around him like a vine, sighing contentedly, feeling the sleep that had eluded her all night finally settling over her. “I’m not sure how we’ll convince the others you didn’t punch me because I asked you to move in with me.” 

“Aaron.” 

-x-

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[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Sleep depravation, child/parent death, drowning, grief, depression, anxiety, comfort, Khonshu being a dickhead again

A/N: Yeahhh this one hurt me a bit to write because ohhh boy I can imagine the voice of Merit's mother when she hears the news. Just awful. I'm sorry if this is another hot mess, but I'm hoping to get back into the groove! (Note; I could not think of good enough names for the boys so I'm just coming up with shit as I go, bare with my historical inaccuracies on this one!) I hope this rips your heart out the way it did mine!

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @astrosphereblog

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Chapter 9:

The Book Of The Dead

The goddamn old bird really didn't understand personal space.

Like, really, really didn't.

You had already run out of fingers to count on the past week how many times you awoke in the middle of the night to him sitting in the dark, looming silently.

"Honestly, will you just tell me what the dreams are?" He'd scoffed as you wiped the heavy sweat from your face.

"Will you go away forever if I do?" You sigh, flopping back down onto your bed.

"Most likely not."

"Then no." You grunt, rolling over to pull the blankets up over your shoulders. The silence stretched once more and you could feel him staring at you.

"Do I need to start charging you rent? Like, if you're not gonna help me, just go, you ginormous pigeon." You say, glaring at him over your shoulder.

His shoulders squared. Apparently, "pigeon" was an insult that ruffled his feathers (god you shouldn't have giggled at that pun) judging by how his posture stiffened.

"Not until I unravel the mystery surrounding you." He replied tersely.

"Good luck with that. You gonna be able to do that by staring at me in the dark like some kind of creeper?" You scoff, facing the wall once more.

You felt a cold chill creep into your bones, a sharp stab of anxiety filling you once again as you close your eyes, hoping beyond hope that you would have a dreamless sleep, or by some miracle that you'd simply feel rested by closing your eyes.

It wasn't even the fact you had an ancient god inhabiting your personal bubble, anymore that freaked you out. What really scared you were those fucking nightmares.

You dreaded trying to sleep every night. You got your "feeling" more and more often now, with every pang of anxiousness that filled your body. The tingling in your hands became too much to ignore at times, and it almost hurt.

After ten minutes of sleep eluding you once more, he grunted. "I know you're faking."

"It's not faking, I'm trying to sleep." You hiss, squirming beneath your blankets.

"Oh, are you now." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Yes!" You say, fatigue making your temper very very short. "You're a god, don't you have better shit to do than crawl up my ass?!"

"Not currently, no."

"Fuck off."

"No." He replies bluntly. "Not until I know how you were able to summon me."

"For the last time! I don't kn--" When you rolled over to glare at him, your hand flew out; and as it did, the glass of water next to your bed flew across the room and shattered against the wall.

You sat up then, slowly, looking at the remains of glassware with wide eyes. Then, you pout at the god sitting on one of your chairs as though it were a calm summer afternoon on an old rickety porch.

"Why did you do that?" You accuse.

"I didn't." Khonshu replies, tilting his head to the side.

"But, I didn't.... I didn't touch it..." You mumble softly.

"Magic, in case your brain is too slow to catch up." Khonshu sighed boredly. "It makes sense, now. You did not see the light in your palm just now?"

Your eyes blink slowly, feeling heavy as you stare at your palms in shock. Shit... was he right? Maybe... Maybe he was... No. No, no way in hell could your life get any crazier. It just wasn't possible. He was fucking with you because he was bored.

You swing your legs out from under your blankets and wipe at your face, your eyes puffy and exhausted. "I'm too tired for this. Can you clean that up?"

His head tilted again, his arms still crossed over his broad chest. "No."

"Worth a shot." You sigh, heaving yourself onto shaky feet. If you didn't get rest soon, you felt like you were going to drop dead.

But... you couldn't leave glass for your sleepy ass to rediscover in the morning. Grabbing some paper towels, and your mini broom and dustpan, you began the task of cleaning the shattered and soaking mess. You carefully carried the dustpan full of paper towels and glass remains to your trash bin and sighed as it tumbled into the bag within.

Your head began to bob as the edges of your vision darkened; your heart began to pound in your chest and you felt like it would explode.

Your breath was squeezed out of your lungs, and as you collapsed, you were vaguely aware of something warm enveloping you before it all went black.

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You were pouring over your papyrus scrolls, analyzing every single word, delicate fingers inking new hieroglyphs on the blank sheet nearby.

The breeze blew idly into your room, the sweet-spicy scent of your incense being blown back onto you as you chewed your fingernail, deep in thought.

You were studying the various tales of the gods, as well as scribes' accounts on things that occured within the temples and palace; a few scrolls here and there on the current state of Egypt's economy.

Your brain was like a parched field of crops, every drop of knowledge was drank greedily as though it were water and stored within every fiber of your being. You wanted to be a scholar, you wanted to learn new things, you wanted to know as much about the gods you worshipped as possible, maybe to, one day yourself, get close to them, to be blessed enough to hear their words with your own ears.

You sighed, setting your reed pen down near your inkwell as you rubbed your temple. You felt a stiffness in your hands and neck when you lifted your gaze to peer out your window. It was likely... two hours past midday, you had to assume, judging by how far the sun had sailed.

Your parents were meeting another noble--probably to discuss a marriage between you and a male heir they possibly had--or maybe they went to the palace to speak with the Pharaoh? You were honestly worried he would propose your hand to his heir, and make you his wife or concubine. It wouldn't be ideal, but your father's wishes were that you were cared for when he and your mother passed into the afterlife.

You merely wanted to study, to learn as much as you can, and imbibe the future generations with the knowledge you accumulated as you grew.

You stood, arching your back and cracking your neck and knuckles; your eyes flitted to your bed, and for a moment you were tempted to take a short nap, having one of the servants wake you when your parents returned. Or your little brother, he was out playing with your neighbor's sons, today. He promised that he would bring you the shiniest, prettiest fish he could; proving that if anything happened to your parents, he could take care of you, because you were his big sister, the greatest big sister ever! The childlike sentiment was heart-warming, and you couldn't help but indulge your brother, reminding him to be careful of the currents before shooing him and the other boys off for their fun in the Nile.

But that was four hours ago. And you hadn't heard from them in a while...

You sighed as you looked out the window, your arms resting on the sill while your eyes were drawn to the plucked lotus you had in a clay pot in the small space. It was wilting, it would need to be dumped, soon--

"MERIT!" A young voice called for you.

It wasn't your brother. He sounded panicked--frantic. As the young body came into view, Akenmatuu hopped up and down, his eyes wide and fearful as he looked up at you, his little brother close behind, looking just as afraid.

Ahrenkare was not with them.

You leaned out your window, feeling your skin grow cold and sweat begin to bead on your brow. "Akenmatuu, what is it? Where is--"

"Ahrenkare fell in the river! We can't find him!" He interrupted.

It wasn't more than a few seconds between him shouting those words and your stuttered breathing that you ripped off your wig and ran down to the street where the boys were.

They were shorter than you, their manhood not fully grasping their bodies just yet. And it was just so painfully obvious how young they were when you saw their smeared eyeliner from their panicked tears, Akenmatuu's younger brother openly sobbing as they tried to tell the broken tale; breaking off in a run to show you where Ahrenkare had fallen into the water.

It was high today, the rains causing the water to swell above the banks. You knew the animals that lived in the river were just as dangerous as the currents and swells...

But... But Ahrenkare knew not to go into the water if it was too deep... didn't he? Oh, no... Oh..oh you hoped he didn't try to dive into the water to catch the fish he'd declared he would bring you! If anything happened to him--

Your feet carried you as though you were blessed by Geb himself, the earth beneath you pushing up to propel you along as you frantically made your way to the river, flagging down a few of the men you passed, crying out that your brother had fallen in. A few of the servants carrying out their daily chores even dropped their baskets to come aid you.

The moment your sandals squished in the mud, your dress being torn by shrubbery and reeds as you rushed towards the water's edge, screaming for your brother--hoping that you would see him rise to the surface, scanning the waves with frantic and fearful eyes as the men heaved their woven boats out to sail on the water, trying to help find your baby brother before it was too late.

You looked on the bank, spotting his sandals, having small pictures of ducks and cows on the soles painted and stitched in. You picked them up, so small in your hands, and squeezed them against you, falling to your knees and crying out for someone--anyone--to bring your brother back home to you.

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It was the most horrible pain you'd ever felt in your life. Worse than the pain that came with your monthly bleeds, worse than when you injured your ankle playing as a young girl.

It felt like your heart was ripped out out of your chest--not by Anubis, but some cruel, twisted, maniacal demon bent on your torment.

The wail your mother made as your brother's pale, limp, lifeless body was placed on the embalmers table haunted your dreams. The way she clawed at her own skin, the way she doubled over him like a feral animal and sobbed made your torn-out heart feel as though it were slowly being fed to Ammit herself; intentionally being chewed as slowly as possible to make your suffering worse.

What hurt you even more after that was your father, so bereaved and heartbroken that he could barely function, his face going blank as hot tears slowly tracked down his wrinkled cheeks, his usually immaculate eyeliner running like black rivers down his face.

"No! No, he's not--!" Your mother cried, thrashing as your father and a servant pried her away from his body.

"That's not my son! It can't be! He's not dead!"

You covered your face and sobbed as a priest approached you, his face gentle and caring. Young for his age, his eyes seemed to carry a great age of knowledge behind them. His hand rested on your shoulder.

"Lady Merit... Please. Attend to your parents." He said sweetly to you. "We will take care of your brother and prepare him for his journey. We have already sent word to the workers of your family's tomb--the Pharaoh himself has paid for more work to be put into it so it will be ready to take your brother and keep him."

"It's not..." Your eyes dragged to the tiny frail body draped in the linen sheet. He looked like he was asleep, as pale as the cloth he was wrapped in.

Your shoulders slumped and you started to tremble.

Ahrenkare was gone. You would not get to see him or hear his laughter again until you, yourself passed on and prepared for your journey into the afterlife.

"Lady Merit." The priest repeated again, his hand squeezing your shoulder in an effort to ground you, to remind you that you were still in the land of the living. "I can assure you. Your brother is in safe hands. I will say a prayer as the embalmer begins his work, I will personally insure your brother is treated with the utmost care and respect as mortally possible."

He turned you away from the haunting sight of your brother's corpse; his presence warm despite the cold that gripped your body and refused to let go. "Please." He said softly.

"Take... Take care of him, he..." You choked, your jaw tensing as you tried to bite back the sob that wanted to crawl from your very soul, instead whispering; "...he's scared of the dark."

Your head hung low as your feet dragged you out, following the disturbing echoes of your mother's cries for her son, your baby brother; who had yet to be given the chance to become a man.

The priest who tried to comfort you looked at you with pain and pity; he knew you well. You came to the temples to study. Many times bringing your brother with to help educate him when his tutors couldn't. Such an innocent ba lost too soon to the next life...

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Ahrenkare had been placed in the tomb two weeks ago, and your mother's mind and body began to wither, as well as her will to live. The burden and pain of losing her only and beloved son was simply too much for her heart to carry.

She was often bedridden, now, but occasionally you would awaken to the sounds of her crying, kneeling in what had once been Ahrenkare's room--now bare of his belongings as his burial chamber in your family tomb was loaded with his things--clutching one of the only things she had left him.

A small toy, carved from wood; it was that of a warrior, built similarly to how your father looked, a symbol of the man he used to be before he was injured in battle and couldn't fight anymore. Ahrenkare looked up to him like he was Ra himself, wanting to be just as brave and as strong as your father was.

But your mother...

Your mother was dying.

You and your father could tell. She refused to eat, now; she barely drank. All she would do was stare out at the Nile, her eyes dull and lost as she looked at the sparkling waves, ignorant of the wonderful life they had taken. Oh, it wasn't anyone's fault, she knew, but... She wanted nothing more than one chance to hold him, again, to feel his cheek as she squished him against her for a kiss; to hear his laughter as she tickled his sides in play...

It was as if her ba was preparing her body for its departure itself.

You couldn't handle seeing her like that--you spent more and more time locked in your room, consuming scroll after scroll, drowning your grief in knowledge the same way the Nile had drowned your brother.

When you weren't studying, you were in the temples, leaving offerings and begging for help from one of the gods. Maybe seeking to lift your mother's ailment, or sending a prayer to Nut to ensure your brother's ba sailed safely through the night sky.

You'd left generous offerings to Anubis, maybe as a way of trying to ensure your brother's ba was not devoured by Ammit.

Right now, you were in a small temple, but one you visited often. It was the Temple of Khonshu; and you prayed excessively as of late, in hopes that maybe he would heal your mother, to lift her pain from her so she could begin to recover.

But nothing you did ever helped. And when your mother finally passed on, you were numb-struck. Still feeling from the loss of your brother, you now had to bury your mother alongside him. The comforting words of your father assuring you the gods took her to reunite her with Ahrenkare did little to balm your wounded heart.

And so, here you were. Collapsed on an altar, sobbing into an empty room, the statue of Khonshu imposing and large as it looked over you, the open roof of the temple allowing the moon to shine down onto you.

Your chest heaved as your body was wracked with sobs, your nails digging into your own skin as you buried your face in your arms.

Despite your disheveled appearance, a warm hand found its way to your head, caressing your smooth scalp in a gentle, comforting way.

"I know it hurts." The voice belonging to the hand said to you. "But I promise, they are no longer in pain. They are together, and are waiting for you, and your father."

"But why? Why now?" You whimpered, curling in on yourself, afraid to look at the kind stranger in fear of breaking down worse in the face of someone's pity.

"Nobody can say. Perhaps it was their time, perhaps there is another divine reasoning behind their passings." He told you. "But rest assured... their souls were not evil. Anubis has no reason to judge them harshly."

"It... it hurts." You sniffled.

"Yes... It will. It will hurt." He told you, his thumb caressing your skin gently. "But you just ask yourself... will you give in to the same affliction that ailed your mother's heart--or will you continue to live, and carry their memories with you? You must find out and see if you will join them sooner, rather than later."

As his hand retracted, you lifted your gaze and turned to see who the man was.

And where he was standing, was a man. A man dressed in all white, long robes flowing around him, Khonshu's blessed symbol emblazoned on his chest as he looked down at you, his face covered by a featureless mask, leaving only glowing sockets where his eyes would be.

He held his hand out to you, expecting you to take it.

"Who are you?" You ask softly. "Are you... a... a priest of Khonshu?"

"In a sense." He chuckles gently to you, his hand encapsulating yours as he brings you to your feet with care, steadying your weary body with a hand to the curve of your back.

"Though, many would consider me his Fist."

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Chapter 10: Link

#moon knight #khonshu #khonshu x reader #khonshu x you #khonshu moon knight #moon knight khonshu #Nothing Is Lost