#hazel grimes

[inatafortuna]

Hazel Dixon's story

When Hazel was separated from her family in the beginning, she didn't panicked, and while she searched for her family, she survived on her own. When a larger horde overran her camp, she was forced to move on. She often went hunting with her father and uncle, and they had some familiar hunting spots, so she headed towards the quarry, but instead of her family, she came across a group of strangers. She had no idea that her family was also closer than she thought.

"Get your guns out of my face." I said in an irritated, but calm voice. The man in front of me lowered his rifle, and nodded the others to do the same.

"She's just a girl." Someone said, it was a woman with long, brown hair, a boy behind her back. This is just great, the quarry was full of people. A whole camp. I lowered my gun too, but didn't put it away yet. "You on your own?"

"Yeah. My old man and I used to camp here, the place has a lake, the forest is good for hunting so I thought of coming here. Guess it's not just my place any longer."

"You can stay, if you want, I'm Shane Walsh. She is Lori." The guy with the rifle introduced himself, and the woman with the little boy.

"Hazel." A put away my gun, and the boy came a little forward.

"Hi, I'm Carl." I just nodded, and went after the others toward their camp. Soon more people come and introduce themself. The first was Dale, an older man with a hat, he seemed nice, then a young asian guy, Glenn, and a black man, named T-dog. I scoffed a little, what name is T-dog anyway?

There was two blond girl, they were sisters, Andrea the older, and Amy the younger. She seemed to in my age, or close enough. She was who asked how old I am.

"Sixteen in this year. You?"

"Twenty-three. I thought you are older, carrying that gun and knives." She grinned, and I tapped my gun on my waist.

"It's a beauty, my dad gave it to me for my twelve birthday." For that, everyone went quiet. I looked around, raising my eyebrow. "What?"

"Your dad gave you a gun when you were twelve?" Lori asked, concern in her voice.

"Well, it comes in handy nowadays, does it?"

"You said you and your dad come here often to camp?" Dale asked while we all sat down around the campfire, the heat felt nice on my skin. A lifted my gaze from the fire toward Dale.

"Yeah, we came here for hunting every now and then. We were separated when this shit happened, so I thought it was not a bad idea to come here, maybe run into my family. What about ya guys? Ya all came from Atlanta?"

"Most of us yes, or on the road when they bombed the city." Lori said, and I nodded.

"I was in the forest, but I saw the bombing too. It scared away my game." I huffed, still annoyed with the memory. Some smiled at my statement, and my lip twitched upward a little too.

"What about your mum?" Carl asked, and his mother hissed.

"Carl, it's rude to ask something like that."

"Nah, it's cool." I shrugged my shoulder. "My mom left me when I was born, my dad raised me. When I was older, I went to see her, but she had a husband and new kids, and says she doesn't want anything to do with me. My old man can be an asshole sometimes, but he has a soft spot for those he loves."

"So it was just the two of you?" Amy asked, and I smiled.

"My uncle helped my dad a lot, he's more like a brother to me." Amy leaned closer to Andrea, resting her head on her sister's shoulder, and I felt a pang of sadness.

"I lost my dad too, he was a cop and get shot before this. So it's just my mum, me, and Sahne now." Carl must see the sadness on my face, and I hated to be this vulnerable.

"My dad is alive, the toughest son of a bitch I know." Carl's smile faded a little, but I don't care. I needed the believe that my family is still alive. After that, everyone started talking about something else, and I left to do my tent. The others seemed nice, but I liked to be on my own, but still, having people to watch my back doesn't sound too bad.

<~~~~~~>

In the morning, I was up a little later than usual, maybe because I don't have to look behind my shoulders all the time for walkers.

"Hey, you up? Wanna come with us to the lake? We doing laundry." Amy asked, nodding toward the other women in camp. I grimaced, patting my gun."

"Nah, I'm going hunting, see if I can catch something."

"All alone?" Lori asked, and I just smirked.

"Doing laundry it's not my thing, ladies." I laughed seeing their faces, and I went on my own, toward the forest.

It was late afternoon when I came back, five squirrels on my shoulder, and three rabbits on the other. The others were around the fire, so I joined them, sitting down on a log which was a little further than the others. I started gutting and skinning the first rabbit.

"Well, she was not kidding, when she said she can hunt." Glenn said, and I looked up, a little smirk on my face.

"I was not bullshitting." I wiped the back of my hand on my jeans and keep continuing. The smell of grilled rabbit filled the air, and my stomach started to growl. "Man, I can't wait to eat something."

"We offered to you can eat some canned food, but you said you rather starve."

"It was worth the waiting, look at that, all fresh and tasty." Soon I was munching on my rabbit, the other two still roasting. I offered it to the others, Amy just grimaced, her loss, but Glenn and Dale have taken the opportunity to eat something that is not canned bean or god knows what else.

"You know, there are another two hunters in the camp, they went hunting before you showed up." I looked up at Glenn curiously.

"Yeah? Cool, it would be good to go hunting with someone else, not just myself."

"They are assholes. Two rednecks, always keeping their distance from us." My heart stopped for a moment when I looked at Shane. Could it be...?

"Oh yeah, you best keep away from them, the Dixons are assholes." T-Dog kept talking, but my mind was on his last words. Dixons...

"You oke? You paled for a moment." Amy asked with a little concern, and I nodded. Jesus, Hazel, pull yourself together.

"Yeah, I'm just tired, that's all. Good nigh'." I went into my tent, holding my hunting knife in my hand and tracing my finger on the monogram on the knife. H.D. Hazel Dixon. It has to be them. That night I fell asleep with my dad and uncle in my mind.

<~~~~~~>

Two more days went by, and I started to settle in the camp, but my eyes was always on the forest.

"Hey, you are quieter than usual." It was Glenn, and I shrugged my shoulder.

"I'm like be alone."

"Not always, you can be really loud, always telling some stories by the fire." I chuckled a little at Glenn's words.

"Yeah, well, my dad never can shut up, guess I took after him a little." I wiped my hands on my jeans, it was already bloody, so who care.

"You are different, I mean, you are close to Amy in age, but you're... tougher. You can hunt, you don't mind being dirty or bloody, like you were built for this new world."

"Maybe, maybe not. I just grow up like this, we were sometimes low on money, and well... my dad is not a saint. But we were there for each other, and maybe I don't grow up in some fancy house like Amy or Andrea, but I has a good childhood. And I can fend for myself, because my pa taught me how."

"I don't mean as an offense! It's cool, I mean, you are cool, Hazel." Glenn was sometimes so awkward and shy, but he was sweet, so I grinned, patting his shoulder.

"Take a breath, chinaman, I know what ya mean."

"I'm Korean, but you know this."

"Yup."

"You can be so annoying."

"I know." Glenn just shake his head, and I laughed. I loved messing with him, or with the others. Lori came over to me, so I looked at her waiting for what she wants.

"You don't want to join the other kids? Jacqui and me teaching them."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I almost finished high school, 'm a little old for stuff like that, Lori." I said with an amused smile and Lori just sighed.

"I know, but you are always on your own, I'm just worried."

"I was on my own before, you don't need to worr..." We were interrupted by Shane.

"Great, the Dixons are back." He said sarcastically, and I needed to bit my lip before I say something I shouldn't. When I heard an all too familiar voice, I know it was him. He just get back, but he was already arguing with someone, I think with T-Dog.

My heart beat very fast and I closed my eyes for a moment, then open them and spun around. There it was, my dad and uncle, both of them carrying a deer on their own.

"Dad!" I shouted, and everyone looked at me, including my dad.

"Son of a bitch, Hazel?" My dad's eyes widened, and my uncle looked in my direction too. I started running, almost tipping my dad when I hugged him. He immediately hugged me back, stroking my hair.

"Dad...." A sob escaped my throat, and my chuckled.

"C'mon, baby girl, don't get all soft on me." I know he was not serious, he always said this to me when I was crying. He hugged me tighter, kissing my head, then I pulled back a little, and looked at my uncle.

"Daryl."

"C'mere." I let go of my dad, just to be hugged by Daryl. He hated hugging, but he never hated to hug me. "Jesus, we looked for ya everywhere, Haze!"

"I looked for you guys too." Daryl let go of me, then dad took my hands, eyeing the blood on them.

"It's yer blood?" I shake my head.

"Nah, I skinned a rabbit earlier." At that, my dad started grinning, ruffling my hair.

"That's ma' girl."

"I missed ya and Daryl." I hugged him again, burying my face into his chest. I felt like a little girl, but I don't felt this safe in weeks, like right now with my dad.

"I missed ya too, Haze."

"You are a Dixon? No way." I glanced at Glenn, but I didn't pull away completely from my dad. The others were dumbfounded, and my pa was the first who spoke in a rather irritated tone.

"She's ma' girl, Chinaman, ya have a problem with that?"

"No!" I started laughing. My dad can be rather intimidating, but also my uncle, or me if I have to be, or when I lost my shit. Maybe it's in the Dixon bloodline.

"You not exactly a father type, Dixon." Andrea said, and I glared at her. That woman was annoying, so classy... pff. At least her sister Amy was more likable. I liked her, on my first day here she said she loved mermaids and stuff like that. I told her I love things like that too, especially dragons. My dad always mocked me about it, but he always brought dragon figures to me, or things like that when he found something. Even if we were low on money.

"None of yer business, sugartits." I snorted hearing the nickname what my dad picked for Andrea. He turned back to me, still grinning seeing I was amused rather than upset.

"C'mon, lil sister, ya can help us with the deers, and tell us what happened with ya."

"Yeah, we were looking for ya at the school, and our hunting spots, but you were nowhere."

"We started coming back from that stupid school trip earlier, but some kid was infected. It was a mess, but my knife was with me, so I managed to go back home, but nobody was there. The truck was gone, and yer bike too. That was how I knew you and Daryl were alive. I took some clothes, my gun, some ammo, and go further from the city. I saw the bombing, so I kept low, staying in the forest. A couple of days ago my old camping spot was overrun by a herd and I thought maybe the quarry was still oke, good place to stay a little. Guess I was not the only one."

" 'm sorry, baby girl." Dad said, and Daryl put a hand on my shoulder, smirking.

"Yer dad was a mess, almost crashed his bike trying to get to the school faster to find you."

"Yeah? Who's getting soft now, dad?" I said while grinning, and he just scoffed.

"Shut up ya two. I ain't gettin' soft."

"Of course not, I love ya to." He rolled his eyes, then he lift up one of the deer, and went toward their tent. Daryl and I followed him, and we started working on the deers they brought. We discussed what happened to us in the past few weeks. It was nice. A couple of hours later I started to take down my tent, I wanted the move it closer to my dad and uncle's tent.

"Why are you taking down your tent?" I glanced at Lori.

"I'm moving it closer to my dad's tent."

"Everyone was shocked that Merle is your dad. You never said you are a Dixon too, and we said rude things about them..." I just shake my head.

"It's oke, Lori. I know how my dad can be sometimes. But he's not a bad father, so stop worrying. He's not Ed. My grandfather was a drunk bastard, beat his wife and sons." We all know that Carol's husband, Ed beat his wife, and I know it was easy to assume the same about my dad. I looked away. "My dad can be an asshole, but he never put a hand on a woman."

"I didn't know." Lori don't said anything else, and my dad showed up, and take my tent from me.

"I have this. Go and get your other stuff."

"Thanks. Hey, I didn't find my crossbow at home, ya take it with you?"

"Yeah, I thought ya want it, so we brought it." He said with an amused grin, and a happy squeak left my mouth. I kissed his cheek.

"Thanks dad!" I saw the corner of my eyes Lori smiling, and went on her own business, leaving us alone. Dad helped to put up my tent again next to theirs, but I grabbed his wrist. "Hey, dad? Can I sleep with ya and Daryl tonight?"

"Yeah. I ain't going nowhere, baby girl."

"I know." And just like before when we were camping, dad started telling stories, and Daryl always corrected him, because dad liked to exaggerate. When he started to snore, we looked at each other at Daryl, and burst out laughing, trying to muffle our voices, but then his face went serious.

"We missed ya, Haze. You make him a better man, a better brother."

"He's not a bad man, neither are you. We are a family, Dare, we need to stuck together, and keep an eye on each other." I glanced at my dad, and grinned." Well, maybe he needs a little more supervising than us."

"Oh, I wanna watch when ya say that to his face."

"Ya wish. Good nigh', Dare."

"Night', Haze."

Hazel's story originally a one-shot, so it's completed, but who knows, maybe I write more about Hazel's and her family's adventures in the future.

If you liked the story, leave a 💖 or a comment. - Inata 💖

#fanfiction #original character #twd #the walking dead #walking dead #walking dead fanfiction #merle dixon fanfiction #merle dixon x original female #daryl dixon #lori grimes #carl grimes #rick grimes #glenn rhee #hazel dixon #original dixon character #walking dead dixon's

[cosmic-whispers]

Control - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel attacks you after being mind controlled by an enemy with daemati powers and struggles to grapple with the guilt that follows. 

Warnings: angst, violence, reader being strangled and attacked, mind control 

Words: 6.0k

A/N: Hi everyone! It’s been a while since I’ve posted here, life has been crazy lately and writer’s block doesn’t help. I missed writing and was finally able to get this out. Hope you all enjoy!

Your breath came out in heavy pants and your legs burned as you ran through the thick foliage of the jungle. Eldric, the daemati high fae you and Azriel had been tracking for the last week, turned a sharp corner and you pushed your legs harder, ignoring the burning ache in your thighs. You groaned in frustration after his image disappeared around the corner. He had evaded you again. 

You slowed to a stop, knowing the pursuit was pointless. Your shoulders slumped and you ran a hand down your face. The sound of flapping wings filled your ears as Azriel broke through the branches hanging overhead and descended near you. A soft hand landed on your shoulder, the thumb rubbing soft, comforting circles in the fabric of your leathers. 

“Should we look for him again?” you asked, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, disappointment and frustration shining in his hazel eyes. 

“We’ll find him again,” Azriel said. 

“He’s good,” you said. And he was. He was cunning, fast, and endowed with the same, rare power as your High Lord. He could be standing right in front of you and you would be none the wiser if he was able to break through your mental shields. He was nearly unstoppable. After a failed assassination attempt on Rhysand—where the male had gotten entirely too close—Azriel and you had decided to hunt him down and eliminate the threat. 

“We’re better.” You looked at him. Despite his obvious annoyance, he was confident in his words. You smiled softly at him, admiring his unwavering determination. 

“Getting cocky?” He smiled at you, his features lightening up, and he winked at you. You laughed, nervous as your cheeks heated up and your heartbeat increased. You looked away, hoping he did not notice just how flustered he made you. 

“I enjoy the challenge. Things were getting too easy.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. 

“I have a shadow tracking him. This is his home, we have him cornered. We’ll get him soon.”

Despite his comforting words, the brief thought that you were on Eldric’s playing field crossed your mind. That perhaps he was toying with the both of you. You didn’t dare speak that into existence. You nodded at Azriel and you turned, retreating together through the thick underbrush until Azriel was able to fly the both of you out. 

The small inn you were staying at was stationed near the jungle's edge. The flight there was short and you relished being in Azriel’s strong arms as long as possible. 

The room was small, the single bed pushed against a wall and a tiny restroom where Azriel’s wings barely fit in off to the side. 

“You can freshen up first,” he offered and you smiled, grateful to get the sweat and grime off your skin. 

You walk into the dingy, cramped room, grimacing at the tiny tub you had been forced to squeeze into for the past week. You closed the door behind you and your face heated at the lack of a lock. The only thing separating your body from his was one thin piece of wood without a lock. You prayed to the Mother that he could not scent the sudden arousal that flooded you in unrelenting waves, surprised at your own self-control for the past week. 

You forced yourself through the aimless bathing, preparing yourself for bed, and trying to distract yourself from the indulgent thoughts of him. You blushed as you slipped the silk nightgown Mor had packed for you over your head, wondering if Azriel had taken notice of the contour of your figure through the thin fabric. 

You stepped out of the restroom, eyes immediately finding Azriel’s. His gaze trailed down over your body and you felt every cell in your body ignite. He was silent for a few seconds, causing butterflies to erupt within you. 

His eyes met yours once more, intense and unreadable, and heat crept up your neck and face. 

“The restroom is free,” you said, needing to break the heavy silence. Your voice was quiet and you hoped he could not hear the quiver when you spoke. 

He nodded, gaze still unwavering from you. You stared back until he cleared his throat and made his way into the restroom. You let out a heaving breath, hoping to shake the tense nerves. You distracted your thoughts away from him as much as you could, getting ready and climbing into the bed. The bath water ran muffled through the door and your thoughts wandered. He was naked, with just a wooden door with no lock in between the two of you. You felt your body heating and hoped that sleep would overtake you soon. 

The water shut off after some time and he exited the bathroom. He was shirtless, tan skin glistening from the steam of the bath and the hot climate. Your breath caught at the sight of his defined, rippling muscles and the swirls of tattoos adorning his skin. No matter how many times your eyes were blessed by the sight, you found yourself struck dumb every time.  

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at you with his brow furrowed. “You seem flushed.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you hoped he could not notice the bashfulness that filled you.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired and it’s warmer here than I’m used to. I’ve been away from home for too long”

You quickly faced away from him, laying on your side and moving as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You focused your thoughts on your breathing rather than the male, trying to calm yourself. There was shuffling behind you and you felt the bed dip as he laid down next to you. Your heart was racing and it nearly beat out of your chest as he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, pinning you against him. Your skin felt electric, set alight by the feel of his rough hands and the weight of his arms around you. 

“Good night, sweetheart,” he murmured, his gravelly voice close to your ear sending rippling shivers down your spine. He had to be doing it on purpose. He was the most observant person you knew. How could he not realize the effect he had on you?

You gulped and gently cleared your throat. “Good night, Az.”

Neither of you had ever spoken about it. You were the one that was able to pull him from the dark crevices of his mind. And he was the one who was able to comfort you when no one else could. He was your safe place when your walls crumbled around you. You trusted him more than anyone. The lingering tension was always heavy, but your friendship was sacred and you had formed an impenetrable bond you were unwilling to break. 

His arm tightened around your middle, pulling you tighter against his warm body. His shadows swirled around your hands, softly tickling your skin and you sighed, content and finally relaxed as his soft breaths lulled you to sleep. 

————-

The bright moon shined through the window, illuminating the dark room in a soft, silver light. His thoughts raced through his mind—barely forming before another took its place. Between the feel of you in his arms in that damn nightgown and the elusive daemati, he knew it would be another sleepless night. 

Despite the comfort of you safe in his arms, Azriel couldn’t sleep. The taunting, smug smile of the daemati male haunted his mind and he simmered in anger. It shouldn’t be so hard to catch him. It shouldn’t have taken him this long. The male should never have gotten that close to Rhysand in the first place. He should have never let it happen. 

He needed to prove himself—to redeem himself. After centuries of honing his skills, Azriel had an appreciation for his powers. He was confident in his ability to serve his court. He was a capable spy, his shadows giving him an edge over most adversaries. But the whispers in his mind would never be fully silent—he would always be that scared little boy, desperate to prove that he was good enough to deserve everything he had. 

And after a week of tracking Eldric, he was still nowhere closer to catching him. It felt like he was chasing smoke. It felt like he was failing. 

You sighed softly in your sleep, turning in his arms to face him and you snuggled your face into his chest. His eyes turned to you and softened at your peaceful expression. Your presence always calmed him, centered him. 

His heart beat wildly in his chest and soared at having you like this. He smiled softly, memorizing the feel of you and your soft breathing in his ears. The past week had been bliss—sleeping with you in his arms and having you so close to him. 

Your sweet scent drifted toward him and he reveled in the essence of you—his best friend. He trusted you like no one else; he was able to confide in you with secrets that not even his brothers knew. He found himself falling for you more each day. He knew that friends don’t look at each other like you did. Deep down, he had strong suspicions about who you were to him, but he never dared to think about it too much—too afraid to be wrong and disappointed. It was wishful thinking to believe that you were fated to him. 

He sighed, knowing he was too strung up to fall asleep. He gently moved you to your side of the bed, making sure you were comfortably tucked in. His scarred hand tenderly caressed the side of your face, your soft skin feeling delightful against his. He admired your features for a moment, wondering how someone could be so beautiful. He shook the thoughts away, making sure you were safe and snuggled before he stood, slipped into his leathers, and left the room. 

The darkened halls of the inn were eerily quiet, the patrons and staff asleep. His siphons cast a light blue light, guiding his way outside. He was too restless and needed to leave, to do something useful instead of lying down and being consumed by his thoughts. He could get some work done. 

He made his way through the dense undergrowth, footsteps silent and shadows shrowding him in darkness. They easily guided him closer to where he knew Eldric tended to camp, to where his gray shadow had followed him. He secured his mind shields, building them up, ensuring that the male would not sense him. The moon had shifted in the sky and Azriel estimated he had been walking for nearly an hour when he found the secluded campsite. It was almost impossible to see, his belongings nestled at the entrance of a tunnel in the ground, covered by leaves and branches. He hid in the darkness the massive trees provided, his shadows helping shield any part of him that light would reveal. 

It was dark, but Azriel could make out light smoke from a small campfire, and the scent of cooked meat permeated the air. He had been there recently. He watched the entrance to the tunnel intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. Was there another entrance he could use to ambush Eldric? He sent a shadow to investigate and continued his surveillance. He stood silently and immobile for over an hour without even a hint of the damn daemati anywhere near. 

The shrouding silence of the night was interrupted by a shrill scream coming from somewhere behind him. His heart leaped into his throat, beating wildly as panic crept up in his chest. He knew that voice. 

It was you. 

His mind emptied of all thoughts as he took off in the direction he heard you from. Why were you here? He had left you peacefully sleeping in bed. He was panting hard, heart nearly beating out of his chest as pure fear spread through him. His body was sweating and he found it increasingly hard to take a deep breath in as if he was being suffocated. 

His legs wouldn’t carry him fast enough and his wings kept getting in his way. He screamed in frustration as he twisted in between a thick gathering of trees. Was he even heading in the right direction? His shadows had been dispersed to search for you, but it was taking too long for them to return to him. 

“(Y/N)!” he called out. He knew it was risky and that his position would be revealed if Eldric was anywhere near him. But he was desperate to find you. 

“Azriel!”

He bolted to his left, your voice guiding him to you. He reached a small meadow, the lush ground free of trees and sprinkled with vibrant flowers and rock formations. His eyes immediately found you, tied to a tree at the other end of the clearing. Your shoulders shook as tears ran down your face as you looked at him and smiled in relief. 

“You found me,” you said softly, teary-eyed and vulnerable. 

“Always,” he whispered and rushed to you. His shadows appeared, swarming around him, whispering frantically. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, voices becoming deafening and he ordered them away as he reached you. He kneeled and his hand lifted to where thick rope held your wrists together. As his skin was about to brush against yours, you vanished like mist in his hands. He choked on air, distressed, and confusion filled him as you disappeared from right in front of him. 

“It was really too easy.”

Azriel’s blood ran cold and his muscles clenched. He turned, finding himself face-to-face with Eldric. He reeled his shadows close to him, preparing for a fight against the male. Eldric was relaxed, his shoulders slumped slightly and he leaned casually against a tree.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“Seems like I’ve found your weakness, Shadowsinger.”

Rage was a burning, eviscerating fire within him and he snarled at the daemati, like a wild animal. The male laughed, smug and taunting. 

“Where is she?” 

“I’m not quite sure. I assume asleep at the inn, right where you left her. Or perhaps she’s woken up and decided to follow you into the jungle. Would not be her best idea–but I suppose that’s why you like her so much. You’re both fools.”

“I will kill you if you hurt her. And I’ll make sure it’s slow.” His fists clenched at his side, his nails leaving deep imprints on the palm of his hand. He fought to stay in control and focused.

“Me? Hurt her?” Eldric laughed, acting offended at the accusation. “I think the one you should be worrying about is yourself.”

In a split second, Azriel had the terrorizing realization of what was about to happen. What he might be forced to do. And no training with Rhysand could prepare him against someone who had honed his abilities for centuries and was willing to destroy his mind. 

He tried to resist with every ounce of strength in him, but the talons shredded the shields protecting his mind like a knife through butter. A sharp pain exploded in the forefront of his mind and he screamed in agony as it spread across his entire skull. He was barely aware of falling to his knees and his hands clutched his head, pulling tight against the black strands. His mind was being invaded, the parasitic presence tainting his memories and thoughts and he sobbed. His last thought before the darkness set in was of you. 

—-------------

One Hour Earlier

You paced the length of the dark room for the hundredth time, it seemed. You were surprised the ground beneath your feet did not catch on fire. You had awoken almost an hour ago, a brief moment of panic and disappointment filling you as you found the space beside you empty. You cursed the innkeeper for not having a bigger room with another bed. Despite relishing in the feeling of being in Azriel’s arms, you had grown accustomed to his presence and comfort and now were having a difficult time sleeping without him. 

You realized pretty quickly that the Shadowsinger had probably gone looking for the daemati alone. He had tried numerous times throughout your stay to go out on his own, claiming he was protecting you or not wasting time. Stubborn Illyrian baby. He was going to get himself killed. 

You wished you had daemati powers at that moment. You needed to speak with Azriel, see him, and make sure that he was alright before lecturing him about being reckless. He meant well, you knew that. Yet, the frustration settled low in your chest and you wanted to rip your hair out in distress as your mind dwelled on all the negative possibilities. 

You knew him better than anyone. You knew he felt defeated and wanted to catch the damn fae. You knew he felt like he needed to redeem himself, like somehow everything that had happened was his fault for failing to protect Rhysand. He failed to realize that he did protect Rhysand. He stopped Eldric before he could get to the High Lord and has been chasing his tail ever since, getting closer and closer to catching him. Your exasperation with the Illyrian grew like a tightening noose, its relentless grip clutching at you. How could he not see how wonderful he was? Why did he feel like he needed to throw himself into these situations without any backup and risk his own life? 

You decided to go looking for him, dressing quickly and grabbing a lantern to light your way. You had to make sure that he was safe.

You hardly knew where to begin searching and figured retracing your steps from earlier in the day was a good place to start. You walked through the dense trees, hoping that a predator was not stalking you in the dark of the wilderness. The soft light from the lantern illuminated the space in front of you and you kept your eyes peeled for anything dangerous you might run into.

You traveled for over an hour, each step spiking your anxious heart and you prayed to find him soon. You find yourself in a clearing, dappled with the flickers of moonlight. Small wildflowers littered the ground, their bright summer colors illuminated by the shining moon above you. You took a moment to admire the scenery before your eyes caught on the soft blue shimmering light emanating from Azriel’s siphons. He faced away from you, but you knew that he was aware of your presence. His spine was straight, body tense and unnaturally still. 

“Azriel?” Your voice echoed lightly in the silence of the night, the answering chirps from the bugs and grasshoppers deafening. 

He turned to you, steps slow and deliberate. 

He glowered at you, a predator locking in on its prey, and you stalled. Fear lit up inside of you for a moment and you took a step back, away from him. You had grown accustomed to his gaze being filled with warmth and softness and the sight of his icy glare sent tremors down your back. He didn't seem to recognize you, his large frame completely still and not a wisp of his shadows anywhere near him. 

His gaze remained unwavering, pinning you to the spot for a few more moments until he snarled at you. 

“You,” he growled, like a feral animal, his voice dark and coarse. Your eyes widened as he began sprinting full speed towards you, thundering footfalls on the ground bringing you back to reality and you gasped as he reached you. You thought back to all the Valkyrie training and the practice sparring you and Azriel would often engage in, hoping against hope that it was enough to keep you alive. 

You swerved to the left as he reached you, using your smaller size to avoid the direct impact from Azriel’s body. While Azriel’s brute strength would easily overpower you, you were agile. He regained his footing, swinging at you and you barely managed to block his arm. Shooting pain radiated down your wrist, and you realized that he had never truly used his full strength against you in training. You would not be able to take him. You knew you couldn’t keep up the cat-and-mouse game for much longer. His Illyrian instincts were intact and he was quick on his feet as he charged at you again, and you were able to avert him once more. 

He was much closer to you now, and you took a tentative step away from him. From that distance, you could see his features twisted in rage and the dazed, cloudy look in his hazel eyes. The realization rushed over you like ice water. Eldric. He had broken into his mind. Pure ice filled your veins—his mind was being controlled to hurt you. Your heart clenched and you prayed to the Mother and any gods in the universe that his mind was not lost. That there was still hope of getting him back. 

His shadows suddenly appeared, and fear filled you for a brief moment until you noticed they swarmed around his face, momentarily blinding him. He wasn’t using them to attack you–they were attacking him. They were helping you. 

You took advantage of his momentary distraction, using the lantern you still had in your hand, and swung, the impact of the metal on his skull echoing in your ears and you smelled the hint of metallic blood. He was still standing upright, trying to fight off the blinding shadows. One wrapped around your wrist, trying to pull you away, but you stood your ground. You could not leave him like that. 

You swung the lantern again, hoping to knock him out with the impact, but his large, scarred hand flew out and wrapped around your wrist, the tight grip making you whimper in pain as he squeezed harder. You tried to shake him off, aiming a kick toward his groin, but he growled and blindly tackled you to the ground before you were able to get another hit in. 

You heard–rather than felt–your head smashing against the hard rock underneath you. Your ears began ringing, the deafening sound and painful pressure building in the back of your head making you delirious and your vision began to blur. You were going to pass out and that realization made you panic. 

You knew he was significantly stronger than you, his Illyrian genetics making him near indestructible. You had no hope. You yelled for Rhysand in your head, praying to the Mother that he could hear you from Velaris. Azriel’s large hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing. You looked up at his face–gorgeous, despite the frigid fury that lingered in his features. His empty eyes looked into yours, unseeing and frightening. 

The air was trapped inside you, your lungs burning as they begged for air. A stabbing pain spread across your neck as he squeezed harder and tears escaped your eyes. You wanted to beg him to come back to you. You felt your face heat up as the pressure began building further and further in your head. The pulsing pressure intensified and your vision narrowed, a rushing sound filling your ears like a crescendo as darkness greeted you. 

———————

Flickers of light danced across your vision. You felt yourself slowly awaken. There were soft, silk sheets beneath you, the air smelled like the cinnamon buns Elain was so fond of baking, and a soft voice drifted near you, reciting lines from a book you had recently read. You forced yourself to blink your eyes open, the light of the window causing them to ache. You groaned and shut your eyes tight in discomfort. 

“(Y/N)!” You squinted your eyes open, thankful for the curtains that had just been drawn. You looked up at Feyre as she approached you and grasped your hand. 

“We were so worried!”

“What happened? Where’s Azriel? What about Eldric? How long have I been out?” Your voice was raspy, and it felt like needles scraping against your throat when you spoke. You coughed, the burning intensifying, and a sharp headache began forming. Feyre’s hand supported your back as she helped you sit up on the bed and passed you a drink of water and a vial of medication you assumed Madja had left for you.

The cool liquid felt heavenly against your throat and you sighed in relief as the medication began coursing through you, helping clear your mind of the pain-infused fog. 

“Please drink it all,” Feyre said. “You’ve been out for two days.” She took the empty glass from your hand and placed it on the nightstand next to you. 

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked you carefully. She looked at you, eyes soft and brows creased. 

You nodded, Her hand tightened around yours and you swallowed the knot that rose in your throat. “Azriel?” you rasped out, your voice weak and thin. 

Tears filled Feyres eyes as she looked at you and your heart raced in your chest as dread filled you. 

“Rhys was able to get there in time. Eldric managed to break down Azriel’s mind shields and essentially took control of his mind. His goal was to infiltrate Velaris and go for Rhysand using Azriel. Rhys was able to break the control away from his mind and killed Eldric.”

You stared at her, eyes wide and the blood in your veins had gone cold. You knew damn well the damage that daemati powers could cause. His mind could be obliterated. You quickly shook the thought away, desperate for any indication that was not the case. 

“Is he alright?”

“He’s…as fine as he can be. He hasn’t left his room since we returned.” Your heart broke for him–for the selfless, kind male you knew who was being consumed by guilt. You rose from the bed, and Feyre startled, gently forcing you back onto the bed. 

“What are you doing? You need to rest,” Feyre said. 

“I’ve rested for days. I need to see him.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It might not be safe.”

You looked at her incredulously. How could she ever think that Azriel would hurt you on purpose?

“How can you say that?! You know that if he was in control, he never would have hurt me. He’s not some rabid animal you need to keep away. He’s my best friend and I want to see him. It’s not his fault this happened.” You broke into a coughing fit again and she handed you another glass of water. 

“I know that; I do. I just worry about you. At least heal up first. And then we can go see him.” You didn’t miss the fact that she said we.

You sighed, your body exhausted and in pain, and decided to follow along for now. “Fine.”

Madja soon made her way into the room, happy to see you awake and you went through her examination without complaining once despite the haunting thought of Azriel in your mind. You fell asleep early in the afternoon, your body and mind fatigued.

—------------------

You heaved a sigh of relief as you found yourself alone for the first moment since you had awoken. Feyre had stayed by your side, perhaps thinking that you would try to sneak away to see the Azriel. The rest of the Inner Circle trickled in and out until Rhysand had to gently persuade his wife to join him in bed. 

As dusk settled and darkness started to take over, you gently rose from the bed. The rest you got during the day did you good, you felt stronger. You opened the door slowly, sneaking your head out to make sure that no one was keeping watch of your room. You quickly walked the length of the hallway, making your way to Azriel’s room.

You stared at the wooden door, feeling anxious and scared of the state in which you would find your friend. You took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door. Silence greeted you and you tried again. 

You slowly opened the door and looked inside after there was no answer. The room was pitch black, with no slivers of light making their way through the heavy, dark shadows that surrounded the space. Only a soft blue light emanated from the corner of the room–his siphons. You made your way to him, making your footsteps loud and deliberate, although he probably already knew you were there. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the wall. His shoulders were slumped and wings were pulled taut against his body. He had never looked so defeated. 

“Azriel.” You managed nothing more than a small whisper.

He turned his back to you and tears began to blur your vision. He didn’t want to face you. “Why are you here?”

His shoulders slumped and they shook as he took a quivering breath in. His shadows swarmed around him, trying to shield him from you. Or perhaps it was the other way around. 

“You shouldn’t be here. If you had any self-preservation, you would leave.”

You shook your head, taking a step closer to him. Your hands longed to reach out to him and comfort him, but you didn’t dare touch him, fearing that he would close himself off more. “I needed to see you. To make sure you’re alright.”

He let out a cynical laugh and you frowned. “I almost killed you, and you want to make sure I’m alright. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You knew he was upset and angry at himself over what happened. You did not doubt in your mind he was trying to push you away. And you’ll be damned if you ever let him do that. 

“Azriel, I know that wasn’t you. I’m so sorry for what he did to you.”

He shook his head, still refusing to meet your gaze. 

“I don’t want to see you, (Y/N).” The tears escaped your eyes, your heart breaking a million times over. 

“Well, too bad. Because I want to see you,” you insisted. 

His spine straightened and he turned to you, eyes full of rage and pain, and glistening with unshed tears. There were bags under his eyes, pronounced and dark. He had not been sleeping. “How can you stand to look at me?” he growled at you. “What I did to you–it’s unforgivable. I’m not good for you. I hurt you. Just leave.”

His eyes traveled down your face and stopped at your neck. You heard the breath catch in his throat, and his eyes widened, face growing ashen and he took a step back from you. Shit. You should have checked for bruises and tried to cover them up. Being so preoccupied with thoughts of the Illyrian before you, the thought had not occurred to you. 

“Oh, gods,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cover his face in shame. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He stepped away from you, silver lining his eyes. You took a tentative step towards him. 

“Az, you’re not going to drive me away. You’re my best friend, I’m never going to abandon you. I want to be here for you.”

His eyes blazed as he glared at you and you could almost feel him vibrating in unbridled rage. 

“I almost killed you! How can you not understand that?! I almost—“

You cut him off before he had the chance to continue. “You didn’t, though. I’m still here. I know that you weren’t in control. It’s not your fault, Azriel. I could never blame you for what happened.” 

He shook his head, dejected. “Why are you here?” His voice was quiet and small, and you had never heard him speak like that. 

“You already know,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the tears flowing down your face. He stared at you, silent and stoic. He was waiting for you to take it back. To turn away and leave him. He knew why you were there despite what he had done. It was the same reason he had promised to always protect you. It was the same reason why you were always so comfortable with each other and why it was always so easy for him to let his walls down when he was around you. 

“No,” he whispered, eyes unwavering from yours. “I’m not good for you. And I certainly don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t want that.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and slowly walked towards him, closing the distance between the two of you. He didn’t step away, but his eyes followed you, flickering down to the floor in shame when you got too close. Your hand raised, hovering over his face and you paused, giving him the time to pull away if he wanted to. He stayed still and you pressed your palm softly against his cheek and he sighed, closing his eyes. 

“You’re not a monster, Az. I know that. You’re a good male—the best kind there is.”

He shook his head and a tear escaped, trailing down his tan cheek and you gently brushed it away. 

“The things I’ve done…” He trailed off, unwilling to put his sins into words. 

“You’ve done difficult things for your court, but I know that you don’t take any pleasure in it. You do it because it’s what’s best for everyone. To protect the people you love. What happened was not your fault. Someone took control of you—please don’t blame yourself for that.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes slowly moving up and meeting yours. His gaze flickered back to the dark, hand-shaped bruises around your neck. Your fast healing was already starting to fade them. He raised his hand to touch you, but he pulled back quickly. Your other hand grabbed his, intertwining your fingers and you squeezed his hand in comfort. You brought his hand up to your face, pressing a soft kiss against the scarred skin of his knuckles. 

He let out a sob, grabbing you and pulling you tight against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame and enveloping you in the scent of mist and cedar. He dug his face into the crook of your neck and his arms tightened around your waist. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, and you hugged him tight, trying to comfort him as he cried. 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you whispered, caressing the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He shook his head, weeping as he tried to calm his heaving breaths. “Yes, there is. Please.” His voice trembled as he pleaded for your forgiveness and you tightened your arms around him. There was nothing you had to forgive him for, but you knew that he had to hear it. You knew it would help him start to forgive himself.

“I forgive you. I know you would never hurt me.”

“I almost lost you,” he whispered, so low that you almost didn’t hear him. “You’re everything to me. I will never let anything like that happen again, I promise.”

There was something so astoundingly comforting about being held by Azriel, chests pressed together and arms wound around each other. The fact that he let you hold his hand, the feel of his flushed cheeks against your hand. He thought so little of himself and your heart clenched in sorrow for him. You wished he could see himself how you saw him. He brought you peace and relief. He meant more to you than you were ready to admit out loud. 

“I know. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you.” 

It would take so much for him to be able to forgive himself. There was so much you needed to talk about, but you knew the right moment would come along. Azriel needed your comfort and you needed him in that instant. 

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel

[faithisyours]

Returning Home

Azriel x Fem!reader (or GN reader)

Summary: Azriel comes back from a long and slightly traumatic mission bloodied and filthy, so you give him a bath.

Warnings: fluff, blood, nudity but its not sexual, Az and reader are mated, reader caring for Azriel, not proofread,

Word Count: 2.6k (I’m sorry)

A/N: Whatisupyouguys I’m back with another disgustingly sweet fluffy Azriel fic for you. I’m a slut for caring for this poor man, so that is what you will receive. School has been kicking my ass but I was able to pop this sucker out and am working on more Az fics, some of them spicy, even. Also, if you have any ideas for fics and you’d like to share, I’m all ears. I am pretty busy with school but summer is approaching and I plan on writing a ton. Even though this is fluff, minors please gtfo. Enjoy!

You were awoken from your slumber when you heard the back door slam. It was one AM. Why was your door slamming at one AM? That is what you asked yourself, and you could not come up with a good reason. So, you silently slipped from the warm caress of your blankets into the chilled air of your bedroom, pulling on your robe and grabbing the bat Azriel liked to keep next to your bedside table as you tiptoed out of your room.

You made your way down the hallway towards the source of the noise, the bat held high above your shoulder. You didn't think the intruder was dangerous, but it's better to be safe than sorry. As you silently made your way towards the original source of noise, you heard off to your left a shuffling of feet. You pivoted, slinking your way now towards the kitchen.

You drew the bat back, gearing up to swing, and hurtled yourself through the kitchen. But you came to a screeching halt when you saw your mate, Azriel, leaning over the kitchen counter, still as a statue, not even looking up to acknowledge your presence. He was covered in blood and grime, his leathers were muddied and damp, his shadows frantically swirling around him.

He had been on a mission, this you had known. He had told you this one might take a while. He had told you that two weeks ago. You had not expected him here, back home, at this hour, covered in gods knew what. It took you by surprise, his presence, but also the state he was in. He looked half dead, drained and pale and haggard. You dropped the bat.

The noise caught his attention. He raised his head, although it looked like it took effort, and locked eyes with you. Those hazel depths you loved so much now looked dull and dark. You moved towards him, your bare feet clicking on the polished wood beneath.

“Az?” you asked quietly, not wanting to startle him further. He pushed up from the counter, standing, but not to his full height. He was slouching in on himself, his wings almost dragging on the ground. He looked so tired.

You caressed his cheek in your hand, wanting to feel him. His shadows embraced you, but remained frantically swirling. You had missed him so much, it had almost torn you in two. And now he was here, in front of you, back to where he should be. But somehow it felt as though you had only gotten his body back, his mind still somewhere else. You tugged on the bond, hoping to get a reaction, recognition, something out of him. A small pull on the shadowy thread connecting you two was all you received.

“You’re home,” you breathed, “I’m so glad you’re home.” Both of your hands were now caressing his face, which was prickly from weeks of not shaving. He was staring back at you, but his eyes were vacant, barely any recognition that you were standing in front of him. It made your chest ache. You distracted yourself by looking over him, checking for injuries or any signs of distress. You found none, but you would have to get his leathers off to be completely sure.

“Azriel,” you grabbed his face and locked eyes with him, “You need a bath, okay? I’m going to give you one. Nod your head if you understand.” It was almost imperceptible, his nod, but you felt it, and that was enough. You took his hand in yours and led him towards the bathing chamber, which was just off to the left of your shared bedroom.

You stripped off your robe and hung it on the door, then turned to the massive tub and turned the water on. While you waited for it to fill, you turned your attention back to your mate. “I’m going to take your leathers off, okay?” He nodded, and it was visible this time. You took that as a good sign.

You began with his top, unbuckling and unbuttoning until his chest was bare. You looked over him once again, checking for injuries. You noticed some slight bruising on his ribs and a healing slash on his right bicep, but nothing extreme. You weren’t happy about him being injured, but he would live, which meant so would you. His wings didn’t look injured much, either, but they were covered in mud and splattered with blood. Gods, what had happened to him?

You checked on the state of the tub, adjusting the temperature and adding some rose oil into the water. The water level was almost to where you wanted it to be. Once again you turned your attention towards Azriel, this time to his bottom half. You pulled at the laces of his pants, loosening them enough to slide them down his legs. He lifted his legs, one at a time, so you could pull the material off. You also took this as a good sign.

You didn’t know what had happened on his mission to make him borderline catatonic, but you would do everything in your power to help get him back to his usual self. His shadows had calmed down a bit, now swirling slowly around the both of you, the frenzied movements gone. You looked towards the tub, the water at the perfect level, so you turned the faucet off. You tugged your nightgown over your head, then slid your panties off, joining Azriel in his nakedness.

You pulled him towards the tub, urging him to climb in. He did as instructed, sliding down into the water and pulling his knees up to his chest. You climbed in after him, sinking down into the steamy water so that you were kneeling in front of him. You grabbed the spong and lathered soap onto it, then got to work.

You grabbed one of his arms, pulling it out towards you, and started scrubbing the grime off his tattooed skin. “I made blueberry muffins while you were away,” you informed him, trying to distract him from whatever he was thinking about and pull him back to you. “I know they’re your favorite, but don’t get too excited. I ate them all. But I’ll make more tomorrow, okay?” his eyes were on your hands, where you were scrubbing his arm, but he nodded in recognition.

You moved on to his other arm, repeating the ministrations you had just done. Wanting to distract him further, you said: “Last week I went to Rita’s with Mor, Cassian, Nesta, and Feyre, and Cass got so drunk that by the end of the night he was telling Nesta he was mated and couldn’t go home with her. She hasn’t let him live it down since.” You smirked at the memory. Azriel looked slightly more relaxed, the corner of his lips almost lifted. Almost.

His arms were clean, so you moved on to his legs. They were less dirty compared to his arms, having been soaking for a while longer, but still needed scrubbing. You picked his left leg up by the ankle, raising and extending it so that it was just below the water, and began scrubbing. You wracked your brain for more stories to tell him, but you could not come up with any. So you stayed quiet.

Azriel so rarely let you take care of him. He always focused on you and your needs. And although the circumstances were not the best, you enjoyed being able to care for your mate in this way. You just prayed to the Mother your care would be enough to bring him out of the headspace he was in.

You finished cleaning his legs, which left his torso, back, and wings to scrub. Wanting to save his wings for last, you opted for his torso first. Azriel had pulled his knees back up to his chest, but you needed them down in order to properly wash him. So you grabbed his legs again, laying them flat, and when he resisted, you spoke down the bond, “I need your legs flat so I can clean your chest, okay?” He stopped resisting, letting you do what you needed to do. You lathered more soap onto the sponge, then scooched closer to him. You could feel his eyes on your face, and with it could feel him coming back to himself. You almost sighed in relief.

Bringing the sponge to his neck, you started scrubbing in small circles over his skin. You brought your free hand to his shoulder to lean him back, putting him at a better angle for you to see where you needed to scrub a little harder. Azriel brought his hands up to your hips, not grabbing them, just placing them on you. The action startled you slightly, just because you weren't expecting it. But once the shock went away, you leaned into his touch, the action as grounding for him as it was for you, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

You continued your ministries on his chest, slowly but surely making progress. When you were halfway down his torso you felt an immense wave of gratitude and love pouring down the bond at you. You couldn’t help but smile, pouring your own love and reassurance down the bond towards him. Finally all that was left was his back and wings. The bathwater was still warm, but you could feel it cooling down. And you wanted to get Azriel clean before the water got cold.

You put the sponge down and laid your hands on top of where he rested his on your hips. “Your wings need washing, they’re covered in quite a bit of blood and dirt. Do you want to clean them, or do you want me to?” you asked gently. He looked up at you, hazel eyes clashing with yours.

“Could you…” his voice was thick, and hoarse, so he cleared it. “Could you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Of course, my love.” you replied, rubbing your hands over his in reassurance. He turned around, giving his back to you, and once again brought his knees up to his chest. You tried not to think about it too hard, the fact that Azriel, the gods damned Shadowsinger of the Night Court, an Illarian fucking warrior, was drawing his knees to his chest, slouching in on himself, making himself smaller due to the memories wreaking havoc in his mind. You wanted to know what happened, shoulder some of the burden for him, sooth his mind from these memories. But it was unlikely he would tell you anything tonight.

You picked the sponge back up, added more soap to it, and began scrubbing his back. You started on his upper back, gliding the sponge over his tattooed skin. Running the sponge down between his wings drew out a long sigh from Azriel. Wanting to save his wings for last, you then focused on his lower back, gliding your free hand along with the sponge, wanting to make sure you were getting all the grime off him as well as comfort him with your touch.

Finally, all that was left were his wings. You started at the base of them, working your way up and over the dark, scarred membranes. Azriel extended each one while you worked, following your movements and positioning them so that you didn’t have to. You glided the sponge firmly along the patagium of each wing, working quickly to clean the grime off. You had learned over the years that this was the best and most efficient way. There was no way to avoid the sensitivity of the wings and what they elicited, but working swiftly, as well as using something other than your hand, seemed to ease some of the tension that would inevitably build up when it came to touching wings.

You looked over his back and wings one more time, checking for spots you might have missed, but found none. So, you put the sponge down and turned your attention to the person, rather than the body, in front of you. You placed your hands on his shoulders and scooched closer to him, so that your front was pressed up against his back. And then you slid your arms around his front, embracing him from behind.

You stayed like that until the water went cold, the only sounds filling the room were your synchronized breathing. Azriel broke the silence first. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for taking care of me. I don’t deserve you.” You tightened your embrace in response.

“I’m going to go get the bed warmed while you dry off, alright?” you said over his shoulder. He nodded, and adamant nod, a nod you knew was going to be the last nod you received before he picked back up answering with words.

You unwrapped yourself from your mate and climbed out of the tub, grabbing a towel on your way back into your room. You quickly wrapped the towel around you then got to work warming the bed. You also lit the fireplace, both for added warmth but also in hopes it would help Az sleep better. And just as you were getting done adding enough wood to the fire to last the night, Az walked out of the bathing room, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Besides looking clean, he looked much more himself now. His shadows had traveled out to the corners of the room, seeking darkness away from the fireplace. You hoped they didn’t mind much. You got up from your place before the fire and walked towards him. He embraced you this time, pulling his strong arms around your body, holding you to him.

“I love you so much it hurts sometimes,” he said, barely above a whisper, “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, but I’d like to cuddle with my mate now, if that's okay.” It was your turn to nod. You pulled away slightly, looking up into his eyes. You could live with him telling you what had happened tomorrow. And for now, you kissed him, gentle and slow, pouring as much comfort and love as you could down the bond. And he kissed you back like he was a dying man and your kiss was his lifeline. You supposed, in a way, it was.

You broke the kiss, shed each other of your towels, and tumbled into bed, holding one another like death was the alternative.

“Thank you,” Azriel whispered to you.

“You’re welcome, my love,” you replied. And you fell asleep, tangled together in an embrace.

#acotar #acotar fic #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #fanfiction #comfort #night court #velaris #fem reader

[loveshotzz]

give the people what they want :

porn stache steve going down on us

Time to giddy up, yeah?

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ established relationship, oral (fem receiving), face sitting, mustache ride, dirty talk.

word count: 2.2k

authors note: just something fun, flirty and dirty provoked by cece, she is the anon in case anyone was wondering. @corrodedcherry @corrodedcorpses @bewilderedbunny

Steve’s normally clean shaven face had been covered in thick scruff for the past week, too tired from moving into your first place together to keep up appearances he’d let it go wild. The two of you had spent the last seven days covered in sweat and grime while you unpacked, organized and decorated the new space and then redecorated again when you decided you didn’t like it.

Dinner plans with the rest of the party and a hot shower is finally what brings him to the mirror in the bathroom with his razor and shaving cream in hand. Rubbing a circle big enough to see himself in the condensation that had built up on the glass he huffs at his appearance.

Covering the bottom half of his face in the light blue cream, he can’t help himself when he shaves his beard into a goatee — you know, just to see what it’d look like. Snorting when his hazel eyes meet his reflection in the mirror, he’s quick to get rid of the patch on his chin. Leaving long handle bars running down the sides of his mouth, his pink lips pull into a scowl.

Puffing up his chest he’d only admit it to himself that he thinks they make him look tough. Steve starts to feel like the master of disguise when the simple act of just shaving gets lost on him. Trimming up the sides his next act is the classic 70’s porn stache.

Raising an eyebrow while he runs his fingers over it he can’t stop the amused chuckle that bubbles from his chest. Tightening the towel that rested low on his hips, he couldn’t wait to see your reaction. Padding down the hall to the bedroom where he knew you were lounged out reading, just where he left you.

He stops in the doorway to admire the way the hem of the simple navy blue cotton of his shirt rides high on your thighs. Laying on your back with your feet pressed to the mattress, your bottom lip sits tucked between your teeth your brows knitting together as you focus hard on a certain part. The creak of the door gives away his intrusion but it’s him clearing his throat that catches your attention.

Wiggling his eyebrows his smile is wide enough to crack his face in half as he waits for your laugh but it never comes. Instead, your eyes glaze over as your breath hitches in in your throat when you take in his new appearance — legs snapping shut with a soft smack when your thighs meet.

It was supposed to be a joke, you were supposed to laugh — not look at him like that.

“You’ve gotta be kidding babe.” Steve’s laugh makes you hide deeper into your book, cheeks burning behind the pages your body giving you away to him like it always does. “This is doing it for you, this?”

He smirks when you start to reveal yourself to him when he stops at the edge of the bed by your feet. Slowly dragging the book down your face, the pages catch your pouty bottom lip pulling gently before it pops back into place just begging to get kissed.

Shrugging you try to be nonchalant but even you know it’s too late.

“What can I say? It works for you, Harrington.” Smirking up at him you make a show of openly taking in his barely covered form, you swallow thickly when you get to the damp patch of dark hair on his chest.

“Oh yeah?” His amusement is quickly replaced with the kind of smugness you only see when he’s inside you. Mischief in his darkened eyes, the bright forest inside them turns into night. “Wanna take a ride? You know what they say, ‘save a horse, ride your boyfriend's face’.”

Snapping your book closed with a breathy giggle and a soft “Steve” you quirk your brows when his fingers wrap easily around your ankle. Giving you a gentle tug your legs fall open for him to slot in between. His hands are quick to find a home on the tops of your thighs, squeezing gently at the soft fat before letting the pads of his fingers travel up pushing his shirt up with them.

“Are you gonna keep your Burt Reynolds stache for dinner tonight?” Flustered at what he was insinuating you try to deflect from the way the silly question makes you squirm, but when his lips pull up into a knowing grin you know your efforts are in vain.

“That depends, do you want me to?” Leaning down he starts trailing kisses where his fingers just were, nipping at the areas he knows will earn him a gasp before his tongue smooths over them loving the way you sigh after each one. His shirt sits rucked up right below the curve of your breasts, his thumb swiping against the bottom “Cause I think you do.”

He sucks at his teeth when he sees the wet patch darkening the simple black cotton of your panties. Looking up at you from under the hood of his lashes his fingers hook in the elastic at the top tugging at them you comply silently by lifting your hips. There’s a low hum of approval when he sees your glistening folds in the soft light from the lamp on the nightstand when he discards the offending fabric.

“I don’t know if I can have you walking around soaked like this baby, how would you make it through dinner?” Running two fingers through your slick he collects what he can before moving slow lazy circles over your already puffy clit tutting when your hips buck up in reaction “All this over a little mustache huh?”

Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you bite your moan back when he leaves your button to circle your entrance, only stretching you just enough to have you wiggle for more underneath him.

Your eagerness makes him quick to take his hand away, a breathy laugh escaping him when he sees the glare on your face. Crawling up your body he slots his knee between your spread legs, the towel parting enough to give you the delicious view of the hair covering his thighs before his face comes hovering over yours. His usual bright eyes are black as they consume you nudging his nose with yours. The fresh mint of his tooth paste still lingers on his breath as it fans hot across your parted lips.

“You never answered my first question, baby.” His pearly whites flash when his pink lips spread wide into a knowing grin that only adds to the growing pool between your legs.

Steve always made it a point to go down on you, sometimes not stopping till he’d collected two or three orgasms depending on his mood, but he’d never asked you to do this before.

Despite the years of being with him, the nerves that consumed you at the thought make you feel like it was your first time all over again. Words falling silent on your tongue all you do is nod before closing the distance, stealing the kiss that he’d been teasing you with since he walked through the door.

His lips move against yours almost instantly, one hand coming up to cup your face. The warmth of his palm against your cheek brings you closer to him when his thumb brushes gently against the soft skin below your closed lid.

Sighing into his mouth when his tongue swipes against your lower lip, he takes his opening without a second thought groaning when you meet his advances just as eager.

Steve kisses you with an edge you’d never felt before, stealing your breath until he leaves you panting when he pulls away. Rolling over onto his back his towel falls open revealing the extent of the effect you had on him too. Pink and slightly angry his tip was already topped with a translucent pearl of precum when it slaps against his stomach.

An unknown excitement crackles in the thick air, goosebumps dancing across your skin at trying something new. Licking his lips they shine when they twist up as he looks at you.

“Wanna get up here and show me just how much you like it?”

His smirk only grows when he sees the way you bashfully nod at his question.

“I need to hear your words, pretty girl.” Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers trail down your jaw before his thumb presses gently against your chin. “It’s just me and you.”

It takes you a minute to find your voice again, drowning in the way he was drinking you in, he still looked at you like the first day you met.

“I - I wanna take you for a spin baby.” The sweetest giggle bubbles from your lips as your face breaks into a smile when your words earn you his surprised laugh.

“Time to giddy up, yeah?” Winking when you snort, his playfulness gives you the assurance that you need.

He’s nothing but praises and soft coos when you get situated with knees on either side of his face. Holding yourself above him just close enough to feel the tickle of his mustache on the inside of your thighs and the heat of his breath against your dripping lips. He tugs at the bottom of his shirt signaling for you to take it off before his hands get situated on the back of your thighs.

It’s his turn for his breath to catch when your pert nipples stand at attention once they hit the air conditioned air of your apartment.

“So fucking beautiful honey.” He says it like he means it, like you know he does. His eyes glazing over as he takes in your naked curves.

Lifting his head up he licks a tentative stipe up your slit relishing in the way it makes your legs shake. Nose nudging at your clit when he does it again, there's a low growl that rumbles from his chest before he pulls you down with no warning.

You gasp his name when his tongue flattens between your folds and the blunt ends of his finger nails dig into your flesh. The pointed end of his nose presses firm against your bundle of nerves while his tongue slowly starts to fuck in and out of you. Lapping you up like it’s the best thing that’s ever touched his taste buds, he gets greedy and starts to pull you even closer, taking all your weight before shaking his head from side to side.

“Jesus fucking Christ - Steve!” Your voice comes out high pitched, drawn out in a pathetic whine while your fingers find purchase tangling in his hair, your hips dare to meet the chaos of his tongue as you start to rock against his face.

He pulls back just enough to see the way his chin shines with your arousal, the honey color of his mustache glistening with your slick — the ends sticking together from getting so wet.

“Just like that, don’t hold back. I wanna feel you fall apart just like this. Give me what I want, baby. Please. You taste so fucking good.” He doesn’t even sound like your boyfriend he’s so pussy drunk, he pulls you back to him, groaning loud enough to vibrate through your core he starts working you with his tongue again.

The two of you find a steady rhythm as your hips move in time with the strokes of his tongue. The sound of your slick against his skin fills the quiet as you really start to ride him, moaning his name he grips you even harder. One hand leaves your thigh to wrap around his length and you wonder if he’s gonna cum with you, the coil in your gut already starting to tighten.

“This - you, god you feel so good Stevie.” The movements of your hips become more erratic when his tongue starts focusing its attacks on your clit.

You swear you can feel his smirk between your legs at your praise. His body starts shuddering beneath you, the quick work of his hand was bringing him close too. Using the tip of his tongue to rub circles against your swollen nub, he increases his movements more when he hears the moan it pulls from you.

“Right there, just - just like that. Shit. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!” Bouncing against his face and tugging at his roots, your orgasm rips through you like white hot flames.

His tongue never eases its motions despite the feeling of his release hitting your ass, coaxing even more out of you when you thought you’d had enough.

He doesn’t stop even after your hips stop rocking, and he still doesn’t stop when you start to whine. Pulling you down everytime you tried to escape not once but twice, he finally lets you recover after he has you begging for mercy.

Rolling onto your back with a heaving chest, Steve’s sports a shiny shit eating grin.

“If I’d known you’d let me do that, I would’ve had a mustache a long time ago.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 3

A/N: I think reader is beginning to realise something was up with Azzie’s behaviour…

Apologies if you’re not a gold-jewellery person (I’m not either, don’t worry)

Warnings: general angst because you sickos love it for some reason (it’s affectionate, I swear), Pity Party by Melanie Martinez vibes, Elain, 5.6K words

-Part 2- -Part 4-

You keep your eyes shut, hoping to waste another few hours, sleeping.

You want this day to be over as quickly as possible. It could never go fast enough.

Twenty-two.

Once, it was a third of your life—a quarter, if lucky. Now it’s a mere spec. A pebble beside a milestone. What is twenty-two in the face of immortality?

Awareness zips across your skin, feeling the soft drag of cotton against your toes; the warm wrap of your nightdress against the backs of your thighs. Remember how fingertips felt scraping up the skin, and tuck beneath the duvet, curling into a tight ball. Seconds tick by, slow and painful, each dragging its feet through a swamp of mud, tip-tapping and traipsing their dirty boots through your mind. You won’t get back to sleep.

But you don’t move, either.

Weighted like a stone in bed, bones made of lead, pressing you into the mattress. Even your sheets feel like soft shackles, binding your body like fine rope. A silky cocoon of your own making.

The sun rays slide down the wall, slithering across the rug, finally extinguishing as midday dawns in the city. Still, you don’t move.

Sweat beads beneath your arms, trickling down to your elbows, gathering behind your knees, saturating the sheets, making them sticky. It’s not enough to make you shift. You remain lying in the puddle of discomfort.

You push deeper beneath the duvet, temperature rising as the cotton clings to your body, sticking to you when you move to roll over. Frustration bubbles, and fizzes, then tears drip down your cheeks. They roll back into your hair, falling into your ears, and you sob harder.

The imagined smell of clean pillows, and crisp sheets revolves in your mind, and still you stay. Living through fantasy, counting the seconds.

Afternoon hits, and you’re still in bed.

Rolled onto your stomach, salty water sliding down your under arms, you turn the page. The parchment is dry, leeching moisture from your fingertips, making them feel pruny. The tears start rolling again.

Evening begins, and you’re stomach sobs with you, gnawing on your bones, as though eating itself with hunger. Sweat has dried, leaving your skin clammy and suffocated. Finally the thoughts start rolling in. The humiliation of rejection further dampening your cheeks. Merely picturing hazel eyes… You shut the book, and struggle out of bed.

The sheets are indeed tangled, wrapping and binding your limbs to the point you simply drop to the floor, hitting the wood painfully, skull clunking as your elbow whacks the bed frame. You lie still for more minutes. Wallowing. Eventually drag yourself out of the mess.

First, open the curtains wider, taking in the orange and pinks of the sky, the full, billowing clouds fluffing the cobalt… Blue siphons glitter behind your eyes, water spilling as your lip wobbles. They blaze with vibrant fury, simmering with unfathomable darkness, and the curtains snap shut.

You remove your night dress, throwing it into the wicker basket, dragging yourself to the washroom as your head pulses and aches from lying down too long. Heat ravishes your skin, a fresh wave of sweat coating your body. Water washes over your back, pouring down your front, bathing you until clean. Not an ounce of grime left marring your body.

You try the windows again, the heavens filled with orange and blue, purply-greys rising with the oncoming night. How have you nearly slept away the day? And yet it’s still not over.

Voices echo from somewhere below you—the kitchen. You cover your face with your hands, exhaling heavily. They’re all there. All waiting just beneath you. Knees nearly buckle.

Heart spikes in your chest at the thought of…

Birthdays used to be wonderful, full of gifts and vibrant colours, smelling of fresh flowers and tasting syrupy and sweet. Now they’re wretched and dull, a pressure around your throat as another year ticks by and nothing’s changed. You’ve done nothing. Sat around, taking up space, draining money, expending resources. And nothing to say for it. Just a stack of books by your bed, selling second after second, minute after minute, draining the days away. Draining the years away.

Muscle trembles, bones crumbles as you land on the floor, curled into a ball before the mirror, unable to look at the waste you’ve become. Everything has a function, everything has some sort of purpose, some duty to fulfil, executing their actions with mechanical precision. Moving because they have to. It’s what they’re formed to do. Yet bring choice into the equation, and everything stops. It becomes unreliable, and uncertain. Unpredictable.

So much choice it’s overwhelming. So many pathways, so many decisions. So many conclusions. Everything would be so much simpler if will was subtracted from the sum. Leaving you with narrow walls to keep you on course, the gust of wind propelling you forward. Without those things, your actions are your own, and you’ve plummeted from the path.

Mind buzzes and whirrs, firing off thoughts and clipped phrases, one blending into another. Chaos and mess fusing in a liquid covalent bond, linking their talons through sinew and cartilage. Hooking into your brain. Ripping into the tissue. Licking their fingers clean.

Three knocks tap to your skull, tripping through cartilage, tumbling to stone.

“Hello?” You call, forcing your voice to be even. Balancing out waves, crests and troughs synchronising.

“Are you going to be up soon? I haven’t seen you all day!” Feyre.

You scowl, hunching over yourself, nails raking through your hair, pushing the dried tails from your face. “I’ve been up for a while,” you reply, shortly, “reading.”

“Well, we’re having dinner together tonight, and it’s nearly ready, so come down soon!” She calls back, and you can imagine the way her ear is inevitably pressed flat against the door. Busybody, like the rest of them.

When you don’t reply, she steps back, walking away down the hallway, returning to the kitchen where the laughter blares and bubbles.

You slump over, spilling across the floor as you lie, limp. Strength falling from your muscles, as though they’re delocalising from your flesh and bone. You imagine sinking your hands onto your thighs, how your meat would come apart like perfectly prepared pulled pork. How your gluons would simply release; allow you to dissolve onto someone’s plate, drowned in gravy and dusted with rosemary.

Thoughts ebb and flow, trickling through your conscious like thickened cake batter over the edge of a mixing bowl, dripping from the table to splatter on the floor. Only to be wiped away seconds later, cleanly obliterated. Tiny explosions blow behind your eyelids, prickling until salt stings and spills.

The sun sinks, darkness settling like a veil over the city, horizon dimming to deeper, inky greys. Shoulders ache, bones grinding against one another, catching muscle and flesh between them. Still you lie, unmoving. Light, shallow breaths evenly dripping from your lips.

Another set of knocks in the same cadence. “Food’s ready!” She calls. The words thud dully in your ears, landing at the dried up base of the well. Prevented from settling deeper. “Will you be down soon?” She asks hopefully, voice blaring through your carefully cultivated silence. “Be down soon,” you call back, letters automatic and mechanical. Precise and unthinking. Words lilt and inflect, while your features remain stiff, eyes unseeing as they stare out.

She traipses away again.

Your mind falls back to sleep.

Tumbling through portals, falling into vortexes, tripping down tunnels. Flying through secret hatches in time, spilling across horizons and shooting up, up, up into the atmosphere.

Thoughts waver and crumble, disintegrating into galaxy coloured sprays of starlight, swirling and exploding like the movement of the Starry Night. Feyre had showed you that one, once.

When was the last time you’d had time to spend with any of them, individually? Now with Nyx around, her attention is spread thin. Navigating wife, sister, and mother. High Lady, too.

Mother, Wife, High Lady. Then Sister.

Maybe you were being harsh on her. After all, what do you know about having so many roles to play? Having achieved all those titles, fulfilled each one and continuing to do so while avoiding jeopardising another. Would you be able to handle what she does? A year younger than you. Already with a husband and a child. A whole Court at her fingertips.

Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?

You blink, his voice ringing in your mind.

Is that how you’ve come to preoccupy yourself? Complaining about her success? What happened to being happy for her achievements? To being proud of your sister? At what point had it become a competition?

When had you started comparing yourself to them?

A stone sinks in your gut, plummeting through your stomach, dropping to your toes. Do you really fill your time by examining them? Analysing their relationships, dissecting their dynamics?

Go on, he’d said. Go on and tell me why I’m undeserving of her.

It had really come out so wrong. You hadn’t even planned on confessing to him. Had planned to keep it all to yourself. To wallow and drown, quietly, in your own secret corner.

You think you’re deserving of me?

He replays on an invisible symphonia, spinning through your world, making you dizzy as the sound whirls.

You think you’re deserving of me?

I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.

Well done. Just open up your chest for him. Hand perfectly poised to pull your life’s muscle from your ribs. Instead he’d left it intact, an open wound to fester and turn gangrenous over time. To scar, deeply. To burn and burrow its way into your marrow. To turn bone deep, so you can begin to understand what you’d struck at.

You’d be better off turning your damn affections somewhere they’d actually be appreciated.

If you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest.

How quickly the conversation had turned sour. How quickly it had flown off the pathway. How quickly blades had been drawn, poison tipped arrows fired.

At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed.

I doubt you can say the same.

A triptych of knocks lands on your door, making you flinch.

“Are you still coming down?” Feyre calls, “the food’s going to start getting cold!”

It takes a moment for your limbs to unfreeze, unstick themselves from your mind’s trap. “I’m—…” You’re not going down there. Not into that room, filled with so many people. She calls your name, a little confusion shining through, dragging you from your haze.

“I’m getting tired, Fey,” you manage back, not quite disguising the bone-deep fatigue that’s riddling your body. “I think I’m just going to go to bed,” you call.

“Oh…” she sounds surprised. A little crestfallen. “Are you sure? I mean, I haven’t seen you in a while, and we’re all down there, so…it would be nice. To spend time with you.”

You’re quiet, unable to formulate an appropriate response. You can hear her hesitating, too.

Then. “Can I come in?” She asks softly.

You freeze up, taking in your state. Clean, but messy. A few too many things out of place to be okay. Before you can skilfully deny her, she continues on. “I—… There are some things I want to ask you about.”

Her voice is soft, and quiet. Navigating High Lady and sister. Maybe you don’t give her enough credit. Then again, she should obviously be playing your sister right now.

“Let me put some more clothes on,” you respond with, swallowing as you get to your feet, picking up a few books here and there; grabbing your sheets to return them to the bed. Quickly, you shuck on a dress, tying your hair back into a neat-ish knot. “Okay,” you call, “I’m dressed.”

The door swings open, and her eyes scan the room, darting about before settling on you. She’s dressed nicely—she’s always dressed nicely. Whether it’s a jumper and slippers, or some kind of gown, she always looks lovely. Disgustingly put together. “What is it?” You ask, feigning sleepiness.

She shrugs casually, closing the door behind her. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” she explains, walking over to your bed. “Can I sit down?” You nod in response, then hesitate. “Maybe take the chair. It was boiling last night.” Her lips lift, a faint smile on her mouth, blue-grey eyes sparkling, “it was, wasn’t it? Rhys is going to show me how to put a temperature-maintaining ward around our bedroom. Nyx severely dislikes the heat.” Her voice lilts with laughter, and it’s easy to forget what she’s gone through. So easy to disregard every bloodied fragment when you see that smile.

“So?” She asks, conversationally. “How have you been?” You wince and her brow dips almost imperceptibly, “I really want to go to bed.”

“Oh.” She blinks. Nods slowly. “Okay.” She seems slightly upset at your not-so-subtle dismissal. At least it was gentle.

Feyre stands, runs her eyes over the stacks of books beside your bed, “have you read all these?” A heavy sigh blows from your chest, posture dissipating as your spine slouches, “Feyre…”

“Right. Yes. If you’re sure,” she says, watching you carefully. Intently. Eyes sharp. “I’m very sure,” you reply, managing a weak smile, hoping fatigue will cover for you.

She nods then, heading for the door. She stops, and you nearly groan.

“It wouldn’t…I mean, would it help if there were less of us?” She asks slowly. This time, you do groan. “Oh my gods, Feyre. I am tired. Please let me sleep.”

“So you’re not coming down at all? Even just s few minutes? Be with everyone for a bit?” She pushes, and irritation bubbles in your chest. You want to be done with this conversation. You don’t deign her with an answer. You’ve said what you want to, you’re not going to repeat yourself.

“If Azriel wasn’t there…” she says softly, taking a hesitant step toward you. You stiffen, blood freezing. “What do you mean.”

Feyre blows out a breath, brushing down her top, smoothing the nonexistent creases. “I’m not blind,” she murmurs, eyes latching onto you. “You’ve been off these past few days, and Elain—”

“What did Elain say?” You ask, skin leeching of warmth. Feyre pauses, watching you quietly. “Feyre,” you say, a little surprised at her hesitance. “If Elain said something, it’s fair for me to know.”

She sighs again, “I need you to be calm. I don’t want to argue with you. Not today. Not any other day, but particularly not today.”

“Sure. That’s why you brought this up when I’m obviously tired and irritable,” you shoot back.

She just observes you steadily, unfaltering. It makes you want to shift, and fidget. “Tell me what she said. I’ll be calm,” you say, finally, quieter than before. Still, she’s silent. Watching, weighing, judging. Busybody.

Finally, she opens her mouth, and her words nearly knock you off your feet. “She saw you in the library. Heard what you said to him.”

The floor opens up beneath you, and you spiral down. She heard your conversation with Azriel.

The nosey bitch. She had no right to pry like that. And then to bring it to your sister. The youngest of all of you.

How much more humiliation do you have to take?

“She what?” You whisper, unable to speak through your anger and hurt. Feyre gives you that look again, calming, steady, scolding. “You said you’d be calm,” she reminds, quietly. “Please keep your voice down.”

“That was none of her business!” You explode, voice raising as your hands scrunch into fists, sorrow giving way to rage. “And none of yours either, High Lady.” You spit out the title, so betrayed, and confused, you begin to switch off. It’s none of their business. They’re your emotions. Yours. Not things to be traded, and gossiped about. To be tossed around over some family dinner.

“I’m worried about you,” she says, brows curving with concern. “We all struggled with the cauldron. We struggled through the war, and everything that came after. But you’ve never shown any signs to warrant anxiousness.” Pain glimmers in her eyes, watching you steadily from across the room. Your room.

“Don’t use that as an excuse,” you bite back. “Don’t use it as an excuse to stick your nose into my life like that. It is my life.” Your voice wobbles, but remains strong, blaring through the space. “What happened between me and him is none of your concern. My relationship with Elain is none of your concern. Stop trying to find an issue with me. Something for you to fix, and put back together, so I can become part of your pretty, perfect family, too.” You nearly shout the end, vision blurring around the edges.

She blanches a little, “you need to quiet down. I will not be shouted at. You’re a grown woman, you can talk to me like one.”

“Treat me like one!” You nearly scream back, tears spilling. Her brows knot together, looking confused and disappointed. “I act, just like you,” you cry. “I’ve dealt with my own issues. I’ve kept them to myself. I’ve made. sure. not to be a burden. To you, or to anyone.” The words spill out, one after another. Brutal, and jagged in the light.

“I’ve been as cooperative as I can, I give answers if I have them, and I look for them if I don’t,” you sob, thinking of all the times he’d asked a question about Elain, so you’d repeated them back to her, stealing that information back for him. “I’ve never gone mute like Elain, I never sparked up like Nesta, I never spiralled into a depression like you. I kept myself intact. All by myself. And yet I’m the one everyone treats like a girl?” You shake as you cover your face with trembling hands, a small crack finally appearing in the damn you’ve been consistently reinforcing.

You push away your tears, trying to shut off the waterworks, finally meeting her glazed eyes. They clear when they realise you’re watching her.

“I can manage what happens between Azriel and me. It’s my business,” you repeat, the odd tear spilling as your lip wobbles. “I know I’m nothing compared to Elain. I know Mor would outshine me if I were next to her,” you cry, breaths heaving in and out in frenzied, uneven pants. Feyre’s eyes glimmer with pain, and she steps closer, arms widening a little. A silent offer. You ignore it.

“I know he doesn’t—” A sob cuts you off, lungs spasming as more walls break down, dissolving with the torrent you’ve kept at bay. Your shoulders hunch, eyes squeezing shut as you bite your lip.

“Nobody ever does,” you cry, softly, wrapping around yourself, back curving as you fold in on yourself. “He doesn’t even—… He’s never asked anything about me, but he knew…” I’m never the first choice.

Maybe the competition had been going on for longer than you’d realised.

Your voice grows softer, and her shoulders loose their tension, silence stretching through the room. Utter, devastating silence.

Not even a single, muffled laugh.

Your heart drops, stomach rising up into your throat.

You take a step forward, eyes wide.

Then vanish.

You reappear exactly one floor below, the silence not fitting in with a group of eight preternaturally still bodies. Seven pairs of eyes turn to you, filled with guilt. Almost instinctually, you seek out the darkest corner of the room, hazel piercing into you. Sharp and accusing.

You stumble under its intensity, flicking between the remaining pairs of eyes that seem to be pulling away from you. Lips part is surprise, flitting from violet, to grey-blue, to cocoa, returning to hazel.

“Good evening entertainment, huh?” You whisper, lips trembling. You don’t even know who to look at.

The High Lord opens his mouth, but Nyx begins screaming, shrill and cutting in the quiet.

Your jaw snaps shut, comprehending what just happened.

A heavy breath of air puffs from your lips, before you winnow yourself back upstairs.

Feyre’s already given you your privacy by the time you return.

————

A clock chimes somewhere in the house. Three in the morning.

The forced laughter and quiet shuffling of people had vanished around one. Two hours ago. Your stomach growls in the darkness.

How long has it been since you last ate?

You shake your head, not caring. You’re hungry, so you’ll get food.

On quiet feet, you pad into the hallway, peering both ways before tiptoeing down the corridor, listening for the sound of movement. Nothing. Silently, you descend the stairs, walking along another corridor that leads you to the kitchen. Stop in the doorway.

A cake lies on the table in the living room—adjoined to the kitchen. A polite pile of presents is stacked neatly beside it, a dull ache pressing down on your chest. Even from across the room, you can make out the pretty details. The pure white fondant, the foundations to the wobbly yellow and orange marigolds made from icing sugar, royal blue frosting squiggling the boarder, artfully dripping down the edges, like tears spilling over.

Stepping closer, the flaws become apparent, clearly decorated by people unaccustomed to creating cake toppings. The uneven petals, a dash of light blue marring the white fondant, the obvious blending point between yellow and orange. You wonder how long it took the three of them.

Sighing, you take a seat around the table, a single candle magically appearing and lighting atop it. You murmur thanks to the house, take a deep breath, and sharply puff the air out. It extinguishes instantly. Smoke drifts up in shadowy strings, the red ember winking out, and you pull the candle from the cake. A small knife appears at your side, and you cut a small chunk from its centre, getting the better part of a marigold at its tip.

It’s good—not too sweet, not too dry. Has weight to it, pleasantly spongy. The flavour lovely and—

Your vision blurs as you taste the vanilla, tiny pockets of jam infused throughout the cake. It’s the same as the recipe Elain practiced in cupcake form for a month. Practiced and persisted endlessly. Sampled until you both deemed it perfect.

No, you don’t forgive her for eavesdropping, for tattling to your sister, for being the reason the whole family now knows about your messy rejection. How unappealing you are. But she’d made this perfect for you, had practiced this recipe to death…and it counts for something.

You finish off the slice, ignoring the slight salty flavour that occasionally dripped over your lips, choosing to focus on the taste of the bespoke cake, instead.

Sitting a while in silence, thinking about everything that’s happened, you put it aside. Shift awkwardly toward the neat stack. Almost immediately drawn to the small royal blue gift box. It fits in your palm and you don’t need to read the note to know who it’s from. A tule bow is tidily pressed on the lid, shifting through vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

It is stupid to be excited for his present?

You bite your lip, and shakily remove the top, peering down at the deep blue, satin cushion. A fearful smile lifts the edges of your mouth—disbelieving.

Inside the petite box, nestled within the plush pillow, are a pair of pearl earrings. They’re fashioned into small tear-drop like stones, golden hooks appearing at their crest. You pull them carefully from the cushion, holding them up in the moonlight, staring in wonder. They’re simple, yet elegant. An understated, subtle kind of beauty. The kind you only notice when you look closely.

You admire them for minutes, before raising them to your ears, neatly sliding them into the tiny holes. A comfortable weight, fun to play with, and tug on. You’re already in a better mood than when you came down here, a quiet smile on your lips as you remember their pretty shine.

Moving onto the next one, you begin filing through the gifts: A romance book from Nesta; from anyone else, it would have been obnoxious and self-centred, but you know how much she adores those books, and wants you to experience their happiness.

From Feyre, a miniature painting: Starfall rendered in blues, yellows, and oranges, in place of the irradiated greens and iridescent golds.

A silver embossed bookmark from Rhysand (spelled so you’ll never loose or misplace it, he’d written), making you smile.

From Cassian, necklace, a circular glass pendant hanging on the bronze chain. Peering into the glass, you can make out a small map of the world, containing the courts, the continent, and Hybern. Stretching down to the Mortal Lands too—acknowledging your past.

A small pot of crimson nail polish from Mor, coupled with a pink lipstick, making you laugh quietly. Attached is note saying she owes you a shopping trip—promising not to hijack it for clothes; to let you wonder about the various book stores.

And a 10,000 piece jigsaw from Amren—you can hear the challenge radiating from her as you pull the ribbon away.

All wonderful; all thoughtful. The seven pairs of guilty eyes that had been listening out of concern.

You rest your face in your hands, unable to resolve their opposites. The eavesdropping, but the clear attention they’ve all paid. Even if you’re in Rhys’ Inner Circle, you’d always thought you were somewhere measuring the circumference. Apparently they disagreed. You’re just as at its centre as they are.

Hot, wet droplets splash onto the wooden table, and you sniff quietly, taking long minutes to expel the sadness from behind your eyes. Finally, once they’ve dried, you reach toward Elain’s present. You’re not sure you want to see what’s inside, with how complicated your relationship has become. Still, you pull the lilac bow loose, raising the lid from the box. You stand up to look what’s contained within.

Your eyes bulge from their sockets, jaw dropping open as you see what’s inside. Slowly, carefully, you raise the mechanism from the padded inside of the box, setting it reverently on the table. Only then do you allow your hands to shake.

Sat politely before you, is an orrery.

Fingers tremble as you touch one of the planets, pushing it gently. When it moves, the cogs at its base align with one another, clicking together as each of the globes move harmoniously, spinning at their assigned paces. You wonder how accurate the spin is, what machinery they’ve used to delve so far into the universe. How wonderful it must be to live and explore.

Tears splash onto the table as you stare at the contraption. So incredible, rendered with such loving care you could cry. You are crying.

You peer closely, picking out the planet you’re on, how the world is carved into it: the land, the equator, no split lying between the previous human and faerie realms—the wall now gone. You thumb at the other spheres, staring with wide eyes as you trace small indentations made in their surface, peering and spinning the moons that rotate each. It’s utterly breathtaking; you have to blink away more wetness.

Seconds tick by, minutes draining in the blink of an eye. A clock chimes four in the morning and you’re still studying the mesmerising mechanism. How many centuries of research have created the stunning contraption? How many people dedicated their lives to discover the knowledge that is now rendered so extraordinarily before you? The detail is mind blowing, the loving rendition of the solar system, sitting on the table in a kitchen. Absolutely incredible.

You scan the array of gifts—the thoughtfulness and care that has gone into each and every one. The attention, the affection. All pieces of yourself, like looking at tiny fragments of your soul.

Muscles stiffen, eyes flicking to the empty, deep blue box. The royal blue cushion that you’d smiled so widely at. How giddy you’d been. It shrivels and warps besides the other gifts, an insult to compare them. While their gifts are clearly bespoke; unique; picked out with you in mind, the pearls…

Sorrow flushes your cheeks as you thumb free the earrings, staring at the demure jewellery. Beautiful, feminine, expensive…

Painfully generic.

A final smack in the face.

“You’re awake.”

Eyes flick up to meet cocoa. Lashes damp. Pearls tucked back in their box.

Elain walks forward on silent feet, gliding across the floor until she’s the other side of the table. Her eyes flick down to the cake, and a faint smile appears on her lips, “you had a slice.” She smoothes down her skirts, elegantly descending into a seat, “happy birthday.”

Pressure heats behind your eyelids, vision blurring, then spilling over. You bury your face in your hands as you sob, teeth biting into your lip as you try to quiet them, attempting to stop the cries that are leaking. You sniff, rubbing your skin until it feels raw. Hot and irritated from brushing tears away. Elain sits quietly, waiting for you to ready.

Once the sobs have dulled enough, you dry your eyes once more, looking at her. “Why did you tell Feyre?” You manage, throat wet, voice a little nasally from crying. Nose blocked. “Why did you listen?”

“She was worried. She asked about you, and I mentioned you’d seemed startled finding me and him in the library,” she answers calmly.

“It was none of your business,” you moan quietly, brushing away more tears. “You had no right to eavesdrop on us like that.”

Elain’s brow furrows, “I didn’t eavesdrop. All I heard were the things you said to him while I was in the room.”

You blink once. Twice.

She sighs. “I left as soon as I was out. You were in need of privacy.”

“But Feyre said you saw…what happened in the library,” you stumble, unable to bring yourself to say his name. “I did see you in the library. When you came in. And then I left.”

You blink again.

She hadn’t heard anything you and Azriel had said to one another. That was why he’d looked so accusatory. You’d gone and opened your mouth while everyone was listening. And your reaction…it didn’t make him look good.

Tears spill again as you bury your head in your hands. Shoulders shake and heave with sobs, hot liquid running between your fingers as they splash into the pool on the wooden table. He’s probably furious with you for being so oblivious. He would have noticed immediately. You cry harder.

A hand lands gently at your back, rubbing in soothing patterns. Staying beside you until you calm down. “I’m sorry…” you cry weakly, voice rasping in the silence. “I’m so sorry, ‘Lain. I thought… I’m so sorry…” Tears drip-drop steadily, but you regain control of your voice. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, and you feel her slide into the chair beside you. How long has it been since one of you cried in front of the other, unprompted? You can’t remember.

Maybe that’s what has you standing from your seat, pulling Elain with you as you cry into her. She’s stiff for a moment, then her arms slide over your shoulders, your own wrapping around her back, allowing the tears to pour. The world naturally leaning toward chaos.

After what feel like forever, you step away, drying your eyes once more.

“How are you feeling?” She asks gently, hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Better,” you sniff, managing to keep your eyes dry. They’re going to puff up badly, though. You snivel again, pushing the loose hairs from your face, wet with tears. “Thank you for the orrery,” you manage, softly. “Really. It’s so… I can’t even begin to explain how incredible it is. How great a gift it is. Thank you.” You hope you can at least begin to have her understand how much you love it through the sincerity in your voice. So she can hear it, even if you can’t explain it.

She smiles faintly. “I’m happy you’re happy.” It’s so Elain you nearly start crying again. “Nuan made it—she’s very skilled in her work.”

Nuan, who’d created Lucien’s eye. She must have…

Her eyes flick away for a moment, as if reading the question in your gaze, but return. “He and I… Things aren’t as tense as they once were. We’re… We’re doing better.” You stare at her, lips parted.

So she’s no longer after Azriel.

A wave of horror crashes over you as you comprehend the thought. Repeat it in your brain. Subconsciously, she’d been your saboteur. You’d seen her as competition, convinced you had to be better to keep his attention. How infatuated you’d become.

Two years you’d wanted him. Two years of late night thoughts, secret wishes, and strict obedience to him. Two years of living for someone else.

Such an idiot.

You’d been so happy to give as much as you could. To be as compliant and accommodating as possible. And he had fully taken advantage of that.

How much more is there for you to realise about him?

How much further does this have to go?

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke

#CBMTHY #CBMTHY Part 3 #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #Azriel angst #angst #acotar #multi-part fic #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

[denim-devil]

Reader sucking off Rick Grimes to get off a speeding ticket (pre apocalypse) 🤭 rick kinda cocky/degrading/smug cums on readers face 🙈🤭

☆ Private Eyes | R.G ☆

Summary - The streets of Cynthiana, Kentucky were usually busy, although due to frequent flow of tickets being given, a certain smug Sheriff manages to catch you slip up, not wanting a ticket you attend to your last resort…

──────. • ☆:*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ• . ──────

The streets of Cynthiana were quiet, much quieter then usual. You found yourself, often cruising throughout the barren roads, trying everything in your power to get home as quick as possible.

Humidity surrounded both you and your car, the nights air nothing but thick and heavy, even though the sun had set hours ago it still lingered automatically forcing your foot down on the gas.

You never managed to eat at work, the stress that ran through your veins daily often had you skip lunch rather waiting until you clocked off.

The grumble in your stomach was like a brewing storm, low and loud, churning away at the emptiness your hunger clinged to. Your foot was now level with the floor, passing by the few scattered cars hastily.

It was almost out of now where when loud sirens drummed away in your ears, alerting your focus to the flashing bright fluorescent blue and red lights of the pale teal cruiser following you.

“Fuck-“

It was almost as if your hunger had taken control, not even noticing the speed that you had been going. Quickly you lift your foot, turning your wheel as you nervously tap away, slowly pulling over to the side allowing the pristine 1973 Ford F-250 to park itself in the slot behind.

Everything stilled as if the whole world knew the very outcome of your dangerous choice, if not a ticket then definitely something worse. You click your tongue, sighing to yourself before glancing into your left wing mirror.

Carefully you watch the taller, older male approach your vechile, his boots clacking against the concrete pavement.

You take in the deep muddy-like jacket that clung to his body, the pale buff coloured shirt underneath and the deep vibrant hazel of his trousers, you had managed to sus out just by the way he was dressed, how the hat sat perfectly atop of his head, how the golden badge he wore with pride glimmered underneath the dull street lights that he was in-fact the county’s sheriff.

The tapping grew heavier, much louder against the thin leather of your steering wheel, your heart beat strumming away rapidly in your ears you had almost ignored the sharp knock on the taint glass of your door.

An unsteady finger of your own presses with urgency to break the shield protecting you, coming face to face with your current consequences. The glass rolls down, disappearing from view completely, the town’s sheriff appearing attractive more so underneath the yellow lights.

With confidence, Rick unveils the hat that he wore moments ago before pressing it to his chest lightly. His cheek bones pulse knowing how much wasted time you had already caused, his teeth clamping together before he speaks.

“You even realise what speed you were going?”

The words were a mere echo within your head, bouncing back and forth from each corner, rolling over the rocky seas the sheriff’s appearance caused. You shook your head with the overconfident to not interrupt him, his pale blue eyes catching your glance.

“Well if I was certain, it was over the speed limit…can’t help but wonder why you were in such a rush?”

His accent was thick, definitely southern. His quirked up drawls and his stance already showcased the authority he held over you, even the eye contact he had managed to keep hold of had you in grasps of splurging out the truth.

“I- uh, I have no excuse really- I just clocked off of work and-“

“Can you step out of the vehicle sir?”

Instantly you could tell he had no remorse, nothing. Infact he replaced himself by taking a few steps to the side, allowing you to slowly tug on the one sided handle, unlocking the door to allow yourself out and into his space.

“Please- I can’t- mom’s gonna be pissed”

The words usher out of you as if you had been asked to ramble about your current worries. It had no affect on the sheriff, instead, once you stood fully upward in-front, he scrambles for the small notepad in his pocket which matched the brown of his attire.

“Listen kid, we both know what happened here…”

It eventually settles in as you watch the cop jot down a few things, scribbling his signature somewhere out of your focus. A wave of panic washes over you knowing a scolding was on it’s way but you somehow thought, maybe you could change the sheriff’s mind…somehow.

“Sheriff-“

He pauses before settling his arms, side by side, shoving the notepad back in his pocket.

“It’s Sheriff Grimes, Rick Grimes…”

You had seen in the paper of the newly appointed Sheriff and just how scary he could be up close although that hadn’t managed to change your mind, infact it helped you to gain the confidence you needed to plead playfully.

“Sheriff Grimes…I’d do anything to get this ticket off of my name…anything, I can’t go home with this otherwise-“

He allows a small grunt to surpass his reddened plump lips, feeling the small twitch in his briefs. He watches you closely, how your whole demeanour had changed from shy and shameful to playful and almost lewd if he hadn’t caught that lip bite.

Tilting his head to the side and disregarding his pointed hat on the hood of your car, you close in on him, the same ringing from before had crept upon you stealthily, heart beat as loud as the soft exhales you managed to let out.

Looking down he watches as you extend an arm carefully but lower, low enough that your finger tips graze the slowly growing tent between his crotch.

“What do you think your doing?”

His tone was low, half curious half stern, still trying to hold the slowly dissipating authority he held once before. He grunts when you begin to passionately grope the area, giving him a slight uncertain squeeze, looking up into his darkened eyes for approval.

He steps back momentarily, his held tilting once more in confusion and guilt but the glimmer in his eye suggested otherwise as if he to was just as curious to see where this would go.

“Ya could get into a lot of trouble wasting my time…”

You shudder, the air had gone colder as if the worry had completely left you alone, instead it was replaced by the lack of judgment and how much Rick craved the indwelling of his morals and how much he yearned for that touch.

It had been months, if that since he last had anything, anything worth time away from his busy schedule, this intrigued him, so much so he doesn’t move any further, the risk was the only thing pushing Rick further into the lustful spiral you casted.

Unexpectedly he moves back into place, back into your open palm. He felt heavier than before, filling out the rest of your hand as he settled against your passenger door. Giving him another testy squeeze, you pull back, a pale pink dusting of blush covering both cheeks.

“I- I wouldn’t want to do that…Sheriff”

He composed himself before standing up, not even bothering to ignore the growing ache his erection currently sported, closing in on you this time, he checked both left and right before turning his head bringing most of his focus back onto you.

“You wouldn’t?”

Before you could comply his lips were attacking your own, the same hunger that ate you from the inside out had engulfed Rick entirely, forgetting the risk of being caught and potentially losing his job his tongue rolled against yours, once or twice before pulling away, panting heavily.

Still you lacked the knowledge to understand that this was just to get off of a ticket, not to eagerly attach yourself to the town’s sheriff, but it proved hard when he towered over you, keeping an arm above your lowering form.

Knees hitting the cold concrete of the road, the bulge that continued to grow repeatedly gained your attention. Rick had no idea what had managed to possess him to go such limits to reward his own greed but he couldn’t let this go, not now.

“Y’gonna unzip my trousers…take me out, maybe, just maybe I’ll let you off”

You waste no time in following his instructions, finger tips tampering with the metal zipper before you pull it down, a desperate hand sinking into his confines, easily fishing for the protruding muscle.

Succeeding in your task, you eventually pull him out, fighting with the small hole that you could only pull him through. He was thick, thicker then you had seen before, the tip a dark shade of red, angry, almost as if he was seeking some sort of pleasure out of this also.

You gawk at the view, almost uncertain you couldn’t possibly except such size into your mouth. Meeting his eyes once again he manages to slide you a knowing glare.

“God Rick- how do you even- just how?”

You question before giving him a few teasing tugs, his balls full and heavy at the same time making it much more intimidating. It felt right to have him fully engrossed in your palm, Rick was a fumbling mess already, his own hand couldn’t compare to another’s, to yours.

“Fuck-“

A sense of pride ran through you in waves which inevitably pushes you to wrap your lips around his tip seductively, forcing his attention back down, watching as you slowly surpassed each inch.

“Y’gonna take it all sweetheart, no holding back now”

Anticipating the eventual moment you reach the trimmed levelling of hair, Rick’s hand grow heavier in your hair, bunching up the locks, guiding you down until your nose settled against his pubic bone, taking in the overwhelming, natural musk that spoke nothing but of Rick himself.

The officer above clutched the roof of his cruiser which slightly grounded him before allowing a subtle grunt to surpass his open lips, almost immediately he couldn’t contain his want to see how far you would go with this, how far your limits would take you.

“God you’re sweet- come on honey, show me how much you don’t want this ticket”

Resting the back of your head against his car door, you feel every ridge and vein pull away, just enough until he stood proud again before ushering most of his length back in, cramming the rest into the back of your throat.

Rick was big, to big to not worry about, you convulse, choking around the tip that claimed your awaiting throat which was now full of him and his manhood.

He smirks, almost seeking the moment you would turn into the mess he knew you can become, watching how your lips stretch into an “o” to accompany his size.

“Such a cock slut, wonder what ya daddy would think? How easy you are, how much of a slut ya are”

His mouth was vulgar which resembled the quickened pace he set, rolling his hips back and forth to force your throat to accommodate his size, to worship what he was giving. Trying your best to nod, Rick chuckled at your weak efforts, to busy using the mouth you were so willing to give to bother with his words.

The comforting presence of Rick’s hand lightly on your head had you desperately slurping him between your saliva slicked lips, each glob trickling down your chin with every roll of his hips.

“You were fuckin’ hungry for it sweetheart, look at ya, takin’ it like a champ-“

When he sped up, the noises got louder, lewd and slick which resembled your current state, tear stained cheeks and abused, puffy red lips. You sucked harder, Rick’s voice became strained as a string of profanities fell from his mouth.

“Fuckin’ close-“

He growled, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, claiming what was his. Each twitch of his manhood followed the rest, the weight of him growing heavier by the second.

“So wet, so fuckin’ inviting- ya were made for me, a fuckin’ dream”

Each pummel of his hips, each pressing of his groin into your face had you achy and leaky between your thighs, making a mess of your jeans. He kept you still, the cool metal of his car door keeping you grounded enough to eye the man above, vision blurred by the continuous tears he created.

His cheeks were flush and his panting grew heavy, each second that passed he grew tired and sloppy, his hips rolling languidly, pressing himself impossibly deeper, triggering your gag reflex until he couldn’t go any more.

“Gonna cum, paint them pretty little features, open wide for me honey-“

Just as you were about to pull off with a pop, he yanks himself back and outwards, hands tugging on his slick cock. Once his eyes roll back and the same low groan from before slips from his chest, deeply, you stick out your tongue, collecting each streak of white liquid that shot from his bulbous tip.

“Take it all- fuck-“

Rolling your tongue back after he stilled, catching his breathe, you finally taste what he was all about, swallowing the thickness that lingered on your tongue, tangy yet sweet, almost earthy.

Pleased with his work, sea-like blues resting back onto the face he just ruined, it couldn’t get any better, his thumb traced over your bottom lip, running through the saliva-cum mix before pressing his thumb upwards into your mouth.

His cock now flaccid still covered with spit and the reminder of his finish, he uses his other hand to tuck himself away before watching you swallow what his thumb offered, pulling away, he wipes it on your shirt, retreating to his trouser pocket to fish out a yellow piece of paper.

Inside was his number, although you had no clue, the indents of numbers on the folded paper had told you enough.

“I have a feelin’ i’ll be seeing you around…”

#male reader #x male reader #rick grimes #the walking dead #twd #smut #fluff #andrew lincoln #I- #I really tried with this one #so enjoy- #S1!Rick Grimes #Sheriff Rick Grimes #pre apocalypse

[kquil]

🍪: cookie with james who surprises reader by coming over at their work to pick them up and he's very touchy and wants hugs and all the cute stuff but reader tries (and fails) to pry him off them bc they're sweaty and gross from working all day if that makes sense hehe tysm and congrats on 1k <3

A/N : this was super cute darling! thank you for the request and celebrating my 1k milestone with me, i'm sorry this took so long for me to write, nevertheless, i hope you enjoy how it turned out ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

“James?” you call with uncertainty, cautiously eyeing the familiar figure standing before you. His charming grin, complete with adorable dimples, greets you and you’re immediately assured of who’s standing before you. It was probably the setting around him that somehow warped his appearance enough to seem unfamiliar. It wasn’t common for James to come to your workplace as the two of you got off work at the same time and found it more efficient to make the journey home separately; it was to your complete surprise that he was standing before you, just in time as you got off work, “What are you doing here?” Despite the question, a happy grin couldn’t escape your features. 

“To pick you up, of course,” the curly haired brunette regards you with a fond stare but rolls his eyes playfully, his tone just as tongue-in-cheek. Your loving boyfriend quickly approaches you with arms outstretched and a mischievous sparkle in his pretty hazel eyes. 

“Uhhh…” it was then that you noticed his state of hard labour. Having worked all day, he was covered in sweat and grime and you’re sure he wasn’t the cleanest either, “James!” you squeal in protest when he shows no mercy and pulls you into his arms with an evil laugh. 

“What?~” he feigns innocence, having successfully captured you in a tight embrace before peppering your face with kisses and squeezing you in his strong, muscular and sweaty arms, “I’m just kissing you~” he teases, his attack of kisses unrelenting until he succumbs to nuzzling his face into your hair and taking a big breath in through his nose, “you smell soooooo pretty~” 

“James!” you protest again, struggling against his hold but can’t help the laugh that escapes you, the merriment shaking your limbs and weakening your grapple for freedom. 

“If you just keep calling my name, I won’t know what’s wrong so I won’t do anything~” he sings, maintaining his playful tone of voice. Now he’s kissing the crown of your head and slowly making his way back to your face again, eventually reaching your temple, where he proceeds to trail a sloppy path down to the pudge of your cheek.

“James?” you call once more, pulling your face away and meeting his eyes, his hazel pools reflecting so much love and tenderness in the mix of his shamelessness. 

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you for picking me up,” his eyes soften considerably and he leans down, loving words forming on his tongue but is caught completely off guard when you take the opportunity to push him away, laughing, “but stay away from me!” your playful words matches his earlier one in both pitch and tone, “you stink~” 

“Wha-?!” he makes a face of mock offence before coming at you like a game of prey and predator, “that’s just the smell of my abundant love for you!”

“Yeah right!” you roll your eyes as easily as the sarcastic comment rolls off your tongue and laugh when he begins to chase you, “Abundant in sweat and grime, more like!” 

“Why you-! Get back here!” you both laugh as he chases you to his car where you giggle with one another, share a kiss and settle in his car before he finally drives you both home for a much needed shower and rest.

1K MILESTONE EVENT : CLOSED | NAVI.

#☀︎ : 1k milestone #☀︎ : 1k #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter imagine #🍪 : cookie 1k

[my-castles-crumbling]

Corpse

for @heartshiii (told you I wouldn't forget about you!)

How do you describe a corpse?

Grotesque and terrifying. Flesh just barely hanging on bones; eyes protruding from hollowed-out sockets, vacant of emotion or life. All happiness and joy extinguished; thoughtless. Pallid skin, full of dirt and rot and grime.

Lost. Gone.

He surely felt like a corpse.

His clothes hung in tatters, damp and disgusting. He felt himself shaking; images of monsters he couldn't name or comprehend still stuck behind his eyelids. He licked his cracked lips, wondering when the last time was he'd eaten something. Two days ago? The day before that? Longer?

I hurt to move.

His every joint ached and creaked as he hesitantly- oh, so hesitantly- raised his terribly-thin arm to rap his scabbed and bloody knuckles against the door in front of him.

There was a shuffling from within.

And then-

How do you describe life?

Bright eyes, so hazel and wide with emotion and confusion and wonder and unadulterated relief. Dark, tousled hair, moving with every breeze, curling over ears and a toned jawline and the wire frame of glasses.

A smile.

A small thing, fleeting and replaced by concern as the man across from him takes in the scene he is welcomed with.

But it is there.

And it fuels him.

And suddenly, he is allowing himself to feel- feel, after he's spent so long pushing his emotions away to fight, fight, fight, fight, fight.

And he is collapsing.

Collapsing like a corpse right there on James Potter's landing, sobbing and wailing and grabbing for the man in front of him, needing nothing more than to be smothered by him, to be protected and loved and reassured that he was not forgotten or unwanted.

"Regulus," James whispers into his ear, only making him sob in more earnest.

And his own voice between sobs: "It's over. He's gone."

And the first reassurance he's heard in 17 long months: "You're safe. I love you. You didn't deserve to do this by yourself. You didn't deserve any of this."

And he's still not sure who says it, but one or both of them murmur, "I'm never leaving you alone again."

#marauders #harry potter #marauders era #fanfic #marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #regulus black kinnie #jegulus #the marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #james fleamont potter #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #regulus deserved better #james loves regulus

[redbleedingrose]

cassian fucking you in the shower

ooooooooooo Cassian

I see where your mind is at ;)))

NSFW 18+ only

Okay, this male is insatiable!!!!!! He takes you anywhere and everywhere.

On the kitchen counter, against the hallway wall, against your bedroom door, in the guest bed, bent over the couch, doggy style on the living room floor

But one of his favorite places to fuck you is in your shower

He loves when you aren't expecting it. You're fully in your zone, humming old illyrian hymes softly to yourself while you drag the loofa all over your body, scrubbing away the grime and sweat from morning training with Cass

He had been eyeing you all morning, especially because you had chosen to wear scanty training clothes, smirking up at him every time you caught him staring

You'd grind your hips into his while he stood behind you correcting your aim, you'd made effort to breathe deeply during your Valkaryie relaxation techniques so that he could watch as your tits moved with every inhale and exhale

So it isn't a complete surprise when he steps into the shower, completely naked with his hard, thick cock bobbing at his abs, growling as he takes in your freshly washed honey and vanilla scent

His hazel eyes are tinted dark with lust and hunger, you barely get the chance to open your mouth to say something, he already has his strong arms around you, pulling you up into his embrace with his hands against your ass

Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, pressing the heels of your feet into the lowest part of his back, your hands rushing to curl into his damp hair and around his shoulders

OMFG he just smells so good

His lips are all over your neck and shoulders, sucking in hickeys and biting into your flesh and leaving soothing licks on the marked skin, making his way down your tits.

He really only needs one hand to hold you up, smacking and squeezing at your plush ass while his other hand roams your body, landing on your open tit

You yelp when he pinches and pulls at your taught nipples, he chuckles into your collarbone, "Like that baby?" You don't even respond, too enraptured in the feeling of his mouth hovering over your other nipple when he groans out, "Fuck, I know you do," before wrapping his lips and giving a hard suck

He plays with your tits for a while, smacking your ass occasionally with a heady force whenever you grind down onto his hard leaking cock

He absolutely loves the little sounds you make, especially when you begin whining and begging for him to fuck you, "Thats right sweetheart, fucking beg"

"Jus like that" and "Feels so fucking good" and "Good fucking girl" and "Beg for it, c'mon" and "Oh I know you can do better than that baby."

He literally moans into your ear, "Can smell how wet you are" before finally giving into your whining and sliding in his cock. Usually, you need time to adjust to his size because he is so big. His cock fills you up entirely, and both of you gasp as you feel him bottom out inside you.

He can't control himself, not even giving you the time to adjust before pounding into you.

The steam and hot water makes you feel so hazy and light, you are shaking with pleasure, his cock bruising your cervix with every thrust

He ruts into you, shakily breathing before swiping his tongue over your swollen lips from kissing you so hard

The only thing you can hear is the water hitting the glass shower door, his choked gasps and deep groans along with his balls slapping up into you. It has your walls tightening around him with the utter filth

"Fuck thats it sweetheart," and "Yeah? You want it harder baby?" and "Take it. Take it like the pretty whore you are," his giant hand wrapping gently around your throat. Even at his basest instincts, he is gentle where he needs to be

You plant kisses onto his shoulder, leaving your own marks when he slides his fingers down to your clit, circling it hard and fast, "C'mon sweetheart, together. We're cumming together"

And then he does a count down...

"10... that's it baby"

"9... take it... you can take it"

"8... so fuckin' good f'me"

"7... oh gods, mother above help me"

"6... sucha pretty slut, bouncing on my cock like that"

"5... c'mon sweetheart, you can do it"

"4... aww so desperate to cum, aren't you?"

"3... dirty fucking girl"

"2... fuck, fuck, fu-..."

"1... cum. right now. cum for me sweetheart,"

And you both just explode in the ecstasy, his cum shooting into you in ropes, your cunt squeezing around his cock so hard he can barely finish thrusting

You're literally convulsing in his arms from how hard you are cumming, and he keeps rubbing figure eights into your swollen puffy clit dragging out your orgasm as far as it can go

You have to grab at his moving wrist to get him to let up because you are almost too overstimulated

When he finally pulls his face from where he had buried it into the junction between your neck and shoulder, he is grinning real hard, all cheeky from how you can barely stand when you unwrap yourself from him. He has to practically hold you up because you are shaking like a newborn baby deer, "So... you up for round 2?"

#roses headcanons #cassian x reader #cassian x fem!reader #cassian x you #general cassian #cassian acotar #cassian acotar fanfic #acotar fanfic #rose rambles

[dreamy-jaeger]

I Know The End | Ch. 6

Zombie Apocalypse!Au, Older!Grumpy!Eren x Sunshine!Reader

Content: Reluctant traveling companions to lovers, Slight age gap, found family, eventual smut so Minors - DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: 18+, violence, mentions of SA, gore, animal abuse, murder, slight smut. (this chapter is really dark you guys, I apologize 😩)

Chapter Summary: The events of the ambush and it’s after effects. Personalities change and relationships shift.

Masterlist  

A/N: omg you guys i’m so sorry i took so long to write this, i’ve just been hecka busy, but chapter 6 is here now!! and this one will give you whiplash, i can tell you that for free. i hope you like it!!!! <3

chapter 6

Eren’s P.O.V.

“So, you’re the motherfucker who killed Colt.”

Eren’s eyes shot open. He was met with the sight of bruised knuckles curled around a trigger, visible because of the pale glow of the moon streaming in from the windows. He held his breath, swallowing at the fear that was bubbling up his throat, not even daring a twitch of movement in the case this lunatic was trigger happy.

The view of the man holding him at gunpoint was obstructed by the weapon digging into his forehead, leaving his identity shrouded in mystery. Eren’s mind was running rampant with all the possible ways he could get himself out of this situation, the gears turning furiously.

Though as the last dregs of sleep began to slip away from his form, and reality began to set in with the overworking of his mind, Eren suddenly remembered it wasn’t just him that resided in this church. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Another painful reminder was the sound of bodies struggling, cries of help muffled by the palm of a hand.

Y/N.

Eren’s body jolted, an involuntary response from his desperation to help her. His shoulders raised off of the pew, though he was forced back down as the man pushed his gun harsher into his skin. It was sure to leave a bruise.

The man clicked his tongue three times in disapproval. “Don’t make any sudden movements, Casanova. Unless you want a bullet lodged in your skull.”

A harsh breath of annoyance pushed out of Eren’s nose as he bit his tongue, holding back any of the threats that wanted to slip over it. A muscle twitched in his jaw, his hands slowly raising up in begrudging surrender.

“Sit up.” The man ordered, and Eren could do nothing but comply. His boots met the solid ground of the church, his teal eyes glared daggers at the man who was now visible to him in this new position.

He was surprisingly well-kept for a man living in the apocalypse, his skin free from grime and his sandy undercut hair slicked back neatly. Tipping Eren off that these guys had come from somewhere established, a safe community where this type of look was achievable. Which only meant that there would be even more people waiting on their return. More people to come looking if they never did. He would have to move the girls out of here quickly— if they ever made it out of this mess.

Eren forced himself not to flick his eyes towards the door in the back where he knew Gabby and Ellie resided, most likely completely oblivious to what was ensuing in the main room of the church. If this guy was at all observant, he didn’t want to risk the chance of them being found.

He did however let his eyes fall towards the altar, to where he knew Y/N to be— once another terrified whimper seeped through the fingers of her captor. His blood spiked red hot with anger when he saw thick arms locking her in place against a hardened chest, half her face covered by a large hand, leaving only the sight of her pleading eyes to tug at Eren’s heart. She struggled against the man’s grip, feet kicking restlessly. But the man was too large, too strong, and there was a wicked look in his hazel eyes, like he found amusement in the woman’s distress.

Eren wanted him dead.

“Don’t look at her.” The first man spat, using his gun to force Eren’s chin back towards him. “Look at me.”

Gritting his teeth, Eren met his gaze, the man seemed to be getting the same amount of enjoyment out of this endeavor just as much as his counterpart. He was obviously the type of person who relished in the anarchy, thrived in it. Eren abhorred these types.

“Care to tell me why… despite my attempts to reach out to my contact stationed at this post, I received no response from him?” The man questioned, eyebrows furrowed with feigned confusion.

“And then when I come to check up with him, I find him dead with an arrow right between the eyes?” He then continued, his tone far too nonchalant to be speaking of the death of a comrade.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eren said simply, his voice controlled.

The man’s lips curled into a smirk, a scoff ringing out into the air a second later. He shared a look with his partner before turning back towards Eren, shifting the gun to his temple.

“You sure about that?” He asked, bringing his face closer to Eren’s, his hot breath fanning over his skin. “Or is that not your crossbow?”

Eren’s eyes followed to where the man gestured with a nod, landing on Y/N’s crossbow that she had left leaned up against the pew that he had happened to choose that night. And it might’ve been odd, but Eren was grateful that the incriminating evidence pointed towards him and no one else. He was the one to blame. Hopefully he would be the sole receiver of whatever revenge they were planning.

“Oh.” Eren let slip from his lips, like the reminder flashed forward in time with the gesture.

“That’s all you have to say?” The man responded, “‘Oh’?”

“Yeah. I remember it now.” Eren answered with ostensible nonchalance, looking back towards him as if it were a casual conversation. “As I recall it, your contact didn’t put up much of a fight. He practically killed himself by getting in my way.”

A sharp sound of protest sounded out from Y/N, most likely trying to allude to the fact that it was her who killed their comrade and not Eren. He refused the urge to spare her a begging glance, to let him take the blame. He was unsure of what they would do if they knew the truth. And luckily (in Eren’s case), neither of the men took it as such, only believing she was still fighting against the forceful grip she was trapped under.

“Will you shut her up?” The man said, paying more attention to the distraction rather than Eren’s confession.

“I’m trying, Porco, but she’s not exactly putting up an easy fight.” The other replied, grunts of exertion protruding from his lips from every movement she made to get away from him. Eren felt a strange surge of pride at this, knowing that she was a fighter, just as he. It brought on a sense of hope that maybe they could get out of this unscathed, protecting the ones they care most about.

That all changed with the words that fell out of the so-called Porco’s mouth.

“I know a way we could get her to be quiet.” Porco replied, turning away from Eren. And though the gun was no longer pointed towards his skull, he was that much more afraid as Porco rounded on the woman in his partner’s arms.

“She is pretty…” He observed, stepping nearer. Y/N flinched away when he brought his knuckles up to her cheekbone, brushing against the skin that shined with frightened tears.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Eren seethed, standing up from the pew, fists clenched. Though his aggression was quickly put to rest when Porco pointed the gun back at him. The man surged forward, a harsh hand on Eren's shoulder, weapon pressing abrasively— once again— against his forehead. He was brought down on his knees, complying when every part of him was screaming to fight, to draw blood, to kill.

“What was that?” Porco said as he advanced on him, maniacal with his words. “You don’t want me to touch her? That’s rich coming from you, Casanova.”

His grip was rough on Eren’s chin as he forced him to look up into his conniving facial features. Grin wicked as he licked his lips, every movement he made wanting Eren to drive his fist further and further into his skull.

“How about it, huh?” Porco sneered. “I’ll forgive you for killing my guy if you let me take a pass at your girl.”

“If you even lay a finger on her—”

“You’ll what?” He condescended, tilting his head in a way that angered Eren even further, “Have your brains splattered across the floor? I think you’re forgetting who has the upper hand here.”

Eren pushed his forehead against the weapon, trying desperately to prove that he wasn’t afraid. And maybe he wasn’t. His anger was forcing its way through every nerve in his body, enough so that he would stare down the barrel of a gun, knowing that whatever the outcome, she would remain unharmed. As long as she was safe, as well as the others hidden within the confines of the confession booth, he would do anything to take this threat away.

Though this was unapparent to the man who stood above him, who looked around the room as if he had an audience. Obviously taking pleasure in the chaos he was creating.

“You know what?” He said, his cruel smirk painting his features once more. “I don’t need your permission.”

Porco leaned forward, his lips pressed right up against Eren’s ear, correspondingly the gun was held up to his temple on the opposite side.

“I’ll fuck your girl right in front of you.”

There was a white blinding anger that surged through Eren’s core, forging through him with horrifying force. He imagined his teeth sinking into the skin of this man’s throat, ripping the tendons, blood pouring out from every crevice, making him pay for a comment like that, for the threat of his touch on Y/N’s skin. But the fantasy was interrupted by a harsh, agonizing scream.

And there were teeth and blood. But to Eren’s surprise it wasn’t his own.

Ellie had somehow escaped from the hidden confines of the confession booth. Her pointed teeth were digging their way through the forearm that was previously gripped around Y/N’s torso. Growls were escaping their way through the jaw that was locked around his appendage. Blood splattered across the floor.

“What the fuck?” The other man cried, trying to shake free from the grip of this dog that Eren had never felt more grateful towards, the defense that she provided allowing Y/N to slip free from his grasp. She fell forward, hands braced against the floor as she caught her breath. Though just as quickly, she looked back towards her dog, both she and Eren caught sight of the man lifting his arm in a powerful fist, bearing down on the dog that was fighting so valiantly.

“No!” Y/N screeched at the same exact time her dog let out a sharp and plaintive whimper under the strong blow the man ministrated against her. The dog released him, stumbling back— ears held against her head, tail tucked under her legs, wavering from the inflicted wound, looking so much weaker than what Eren had known of the animal. He wondered about the shaking dog Y/N had found in her basement, right on the precipice of the apocalypse.

But he couldn’t let the thought plague him for too long. Instead, under the distraction of it all, Eren brought the force of his elbow into Porco’s temple. The gun in his hand slipping from his grip, falling into Eren’s lap. It all felt so lucky, as Eren’s own hand wrapped around the weapon, fingers finding the trigger in a moment’s notice.

The man with his forearm bleeding freely was now advancing towards Y/N— dog forgotten as she cowered in on herself after that horrifying bludgeon. Y/N was scrambling, trying everything to get away, most likely hoping for a path that would allow her to get to her dog. What she didn’t notice was Eren pointing his newfound weapon at her adversary, and as soon as the man took another step forward, a bullet whizzed through the air, piercing itself between his eyes. Just as the arrow did his compatriot. He fell to his demise just the same.

A frustrated, curdling roar of anger sounded out from beside Eren, and before he knew it he was down on the floor, wrestling with the weight of a maddened man who witnessed the death of yet another one of his comrades. The gun, unfortunately, slipped from his grip within the pandemonium, skidding across the floor.

All Eren could focus on was the man who had somehow gotten the advantage. His thighs were trapping Eren in place, hands gripped into the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I’ll kill you.” The man raged, hands shifting upwards, tightening around the expanse of Eren’s neck. Eren’s legs kicked from underneath the man, trying everything to break free as his vocal chords began to restrict under Porco’s grip, fresh air being lost to his lungs. But his anger was matched with Porco’s, both of them filled with adrenaline from the actions taken against those closest to them. And with the upper hand now in Porco’s favor, Eren was at a disadvantage.

He was gasping, searching for any breath that could provide his lungs with relief. His fingers tugged at the rough hands wrapped around his throat. In each passing second death seeped in all around him from every corner of the earth. His life flashed before his eyes, starting with memories from his childhood, and then the beginning of the end, and the people he met throughout its duration. But all that mattered to him were the last couple of months when he found his humanity in the young girl he took in, as well as the last few days where his life finally felt complete now that he found—

A gunshot rang through the air once more. Porco’s grip loosened around Eren’s throat as he fell down beside him, brains now seeping onto the tiled floor, eyes glassy with death, perhaps a fate that was spoken into existence. Eren gasped in huge lungfuls of cold refreshing air, savoring the life that was almost taken from him. But his still-panicked gaze found purchase on the path the bullet had come from, landing on Gabby standing at the end of it. The gun was held aloft in her shaking hands, barrel steaming from the bullet that just blasted from its confines.

“Holy shit.” The young girl breathed, gun dropping to her side, “I just killed someone.”

“Gabby.” Eren croaked, vocal cords strained from the violence inflicted. He rolled over, propping himself up on shaky hands and knees. Regret brittled his bones, knowing that she had never done that before, wishing she didn’t have to at an age so young. It was a burden he never wanted her to bear. His efforts fallen flat within his missteps.

His movements were in an attempt to get to her, to make sure she was all right and that her humanity wasn’t being lost to her, the same way his own was the first time he drew blood. But once he was up on his knees, he caught sight of Y/N, sitting next to a dark lump on the floor. Eren’s heart lodged itself in his throat and before he knew it, he was up on his feet staggering over to where the woman sat, shoulders trembling with every sob that wracked through her body.

“Is she…” Eren choked out, dropping to his knees beside her, an arm instinctively wrapping around her shaking form. Despite her grievances, Y/N relaxed under his touch.

“She’s alive.” Y/N spoke, her voice small, almost to the point where her words came out as a whimper, though it was filled with an aching relief. Her hands smoothed over the head that now resided in her lap. The dog’s eyes were shut closed against the world around her, her breathing so shallow that Eren could hardly tell if her heart was still beating, he was hoping it was only because of the dark that surrounded them. Y/N continued her reassurances, almost as though she was trying to convince herself, even with the tremor that still plagued her.

“Just shaken up, is all. She’ll be alright… we’ve been through worse… But, Gabby—”

“—’m fine.” Gabby interrupted before any inquiries, she sat down on Y/N’s other side. “I’ll be alright too.”

“Gabby—” Eren started.

“I said I’m fine.” She reiterated, maybe a bit too harshly. Eren had opened his mouth to argue the fact, but then he felt as Gabby’s own arms snaked their way around Y/N’s waist, and the words faded off of his tongue.

All four of them were lost within their desperate need of solace, holding onto one another with shaking hands. Two dead bodies lay behind them, forgotten as they all sat in front of the altar with candles burned down to the wick. The faith that once was held in this building by previous loyal churchgoers now placed entirely on the delicate foundation of this forming bond between them.

Y/N’s P.O.V

8 years ago.

Chaos. That was all there was at the beginning.

It was like the world was distorted by a dark twisted filter of destruction. The sky seemed darker than usual, strange for a summer’s day in early June. There were rows and rows of stagnant cars as everyone tried to force their way out of the city. Soon replaced by horrified mobs that wouldn’t care if they trampled over those who tripped over their feet. All that mattered to the mass majority was to get away by all means from the ripping teeth and bloodied fingernails of the monsters that were now running rampant through the streets. Most of the efforts were in vain.

The bloodshed on that very first day was one of the worst blows humanity had ever taken.

Y/N was one of the few who was oblivious to the start of the apocalypse. A feat that seemed impossible, due to the fall of society that had overtaken their world. But she was on a train, headphones plugged in, her thoughts solely on the excitement of getting to see her family again after a year of being apart.

Though reality soon set in as the train started to slow to a stop, halfway between the two stations. Y/N remembered being annoyed at first, frustrated at the delay in her journey probably due to some technical difficulties, but the frustration was soon replaced by confusion as the passengers were evacuated from the locomotive.

The confusion then turned into fear when Y/N finally witnessed the chaos.

She tried calling her parents, her ear was met with low beeps as the call was disconnected. The lines were down, overrun with all the others trying to contact their loved ones. The people around her were no help, as they scrambled to find a way out of this mess once the conductor announced what was really going on. And as they all began to argue about what should be done— if they should take the train into one of the stations or wait for instruction from government officials— Y/N had decided that she could walk the rest of the way home.

With her luggage left behind, save for the backpack over her shoulder, she slipped away under the guise of all the mayhem.

It took her two days to finally reach the neighborhood where her house resided. The streets she grew up in were eerily quiet, nothing so much as stirring as Y/N made her way down the sidewalk.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t run into much during her journey home, since most of the damage was still convoluted within the bounds of the city. She didn’t run into any other living soul, only stopping to rest for thirty minutes at a time, eating the snacks she had preemptively packed for the journey home that should’ve been much simpler than this.

Every so often the ground would tremble, and in the distance would send echoes of great roaring booms. Perhaps the government had resorted to bombing what was left over… the thought unsettled Y/N in her bones.

She thought of her dog, who trembled at the sound of mere fireworks. Her heart ached. She prayed her family would have stayed home. Waiting for her. They had to know she would’ve done anything to get to them. They wouldn’t leave her behind.

However, her house was just as quiet as the street, proven by the lack of excited claws clacking against the floor, a sound she was used to hearing whenever she walked in through the front door. Her bottom lip began to tremble. But she wouldn’t let herself cry. Not yet.

Instead she moved into her kitchen. A place filled with happy memories of her little family making dinner all together. Her mom would be chopping vegetables, a bright grin on her face from the corny joke her dad just told as he stood over the stove. Ellie would be sitting on the precipice of the room, smart enough to know that Y/N’s dad would be quick to shoo her out if she attempted to step a paw further inside. Also smart enough to know that Y/N would eventually sneak her a piece of chicken when her dad was pretending not to look. All of those happy memories faded into these kitchen walls.

It looked so much emptier now that everyone was gone.

The image of her kitchen began to blur as tears filled the corners of Y/N’s eyes. Her throat was tight as she started to imagine the worst. Coming to terms with the fact that she was the only one left.

She was all alone.

Or was she?

An ominous creak rang out from deeper within the house, capturing the girl's attention. A knife that was left on the drying rack by the sink was now held secure in her hand. She ventured further into her childhood home, only stopping when she reached the closed door of her parents bedroom. There was a faded noise seeping in from under the door.

Y/N’s heart was racing. Her fingers grasped around the doorknob, turning slightly. The door creaked open as she pushed against it.

She was frozen in place.

That was until the sight in front of her had caused such a visceral reaction that bile forced its way up her throat. Unable to stop as she released the contents of her last feeble meal, splattering across the floor.

Y/N had heard briefly of what has been happening these last few days from a comment made by the conductor. That people have been turning into cannibals, eating at the flesh of their fellow man, aggressively and violently. Causing the people they bite to do the same, spreading the disease. And over the past forty-eight hours the girl feared having to run into one of those monsters. She didn’t. Until now.

Sat on the bed in the middle of the room were her parents. But not as she had ever known them.

Her father was hunched over the carcass of what used to be her mother. His teeth gnashing, crimson blood covering the expanse of his chin, as well as his fingers that dug into a gaping hole in her mom’s stomach, unaware of his daughter standing in the doorway. Though that changed when her coughing and hacking had caught his attention. He stared up at her with hungry eyes, slow moving, like he was about to pounce.

“Oh, dad.” Y/N mourned, holding the knife out in front of her, her tears now falling freely, burning hot down the skin of her cheeks. Is he not the man she once knew him to be? Does he not recognize his own daughter? Was she soon to have the same fate as her mother? The woman he married and always claimed to be the love of his life, now a gory mess on their marital bed?

Her father tumbled off of the mattress, his eyes still clouded over and angry. Lost in his irises— the same color as her own— was the warmth she had known throughout the eighteen years of her life. This thing was not her father. He was a monster standing in his place.

“Please…” Y/N whimpered as he started to stagger towards her, knowing that this could only end in one way. “Please, don’t.”

Of course he didn’t understand her, his possessed mind set on its current goal. Hands out reaching for her, a cruel imitation of when he used to do the same to pull her into a loving hug. A sob wracked through her body when she caught sight of a bloodied bandage wrapped around his forearm. Had he been one of the firsts to be bit? Had he not known what he would eventually turn into? Going to sleep besides his wife thinking it was just a freak accident and all would be fine in the morning?

The theories ran rampant in Y/N’s brain as she continued to back up, her father still lumbering towards her, hissing at the sight of her.

“Dad.” Y/N said again, almost like she was begging. Begging for him to stop. Begging him to turn back into the man that she once knew. She couldn’t do this without him. She couldn’t do this alone.

She was forced to stop when her back hit the wood of the door at the end of the hallway. It wasn’t fully shut, so it creaked as it slightly shifted back under the weight of her body. She knew what lay behind her. It was the staircase that led downstairs. She could escape down below, slam the door shut and avoid doing what she knew she had to.

But seeing him like this. Seeing her own dad, a shell of the man he once was, was too hard to bear. And she didn’t want to let this monster live in his place any longer than it already has. It was unfair that this thing had stolen her dad from her, stolen the feet stalking forward, stolen the hands reaching out, stolen the heart that was no longer beating, the eyes that were no longer loving and replaced it all with cold unfeeling death.

So with a newfound energy and rage, the girl raised the knife, plunging it deep into his skull with a strangled cry of exertion.

Her dad— now free from the unrelenting grasp of this monster— sank to the floor, unmoving.

“I’m sorry.” She cried, dropping down beside him, too afraid to touch him, but wanting one last moment with her father. Her salty tears dripped down onto his face, causing streaks to carve through her mother’s blood staining his chin. “I’m so sorry.”

She stayed like that for a few moments more, mourning the death of her parents. Her cries were loud and unrelenting, her hand was clutched to her chest trying hard to even out her breathing that was forging through her in staggered intervals. Her grief wouldn’t let her calm down, keeping her shoulders rigid and her throat raw.

But somehow through it all, she heard a new sound, wavering up from behind her, up the stairs and through the crack in the door. A muffled, warbled whimper, as if her grief was manifesting itself outside of her body. But that wasn’t it… no. She knew exactly what it was. Who it was.

Y/N scrambled to her feet, desperate in her movements, practically tripping down the stairs to where the sound was coming from. She rounded the corner, eyes searching for the dusty storage-space tucked underneath the stairs. A place of solace her dog always ran to when the boom of fireworks or the rumble of thunder became too overwhelming.

She was met with an occupied space. Big brown eyes staring up at her, her entire body shaking with fear, and a tail that slowly started thumping against the floor.

“Ellie.”

More whimpered cries escaped from the dog as she realized who was standing in front of her— a sound she always made when happiness overwhelmed her whenever a family member returned home. Y/N’s own tears gushed harder down her face, only this time with the most overwhelming relief she had ever known.

She dropped to her knees, the movement sparking the dog to stand up on shaky legs and move forward into her owner’s arms.

“I’m here, sweet girl.” Y/N whispered into her fur as the dog continued to cry, her tail now wagging more furiously as her familiar scent washed over her. Ellies nose was dry as she sniffed at Y/N’s cheeks, most likely due to a lack of water. Y/N would have to get some for her, as well as some food. But for now she had her arms wound tight around her dog, shoulders shaking with relief. She wasn’t alone anymore. Ellie wasn’t alone anymore. They had found each other within the chaos.

“I’m here.”

~ present day

“We have to go.”

Eren’s words were sharp with the command, maybe too soon after the fact. There were protests from Gabby, who tried to argue that there was more time needed to recover. Y/N wanted to agree with her— in favor of her poor old dog still trembling in her lap, but she knew that Eren was right. Especially at the mention that more of them could be on their way as soon as they didn’t hear back from the man that seemed to be their leader.

So now they were back to wandering through the forest, before the sun had even begun to rise. The shadows overcast from the trees were shifting and changing in Y/N’s tired mind, looking far too much like more enemies they might have to defend themselves against. She jumped more often than not at any slight movement, still shaken by the events that transpired.

Ellie was tied to her waist by a rarely-used leash, too worried to let her dog wander off like she usually did. Not that she would’ve done so, Ellie was sticking close to Y/N’s side, her movements slow and careful. Though, the reassurance the leash provided was always welcome. She wanted her dog near her, somewhere close, where she would be safe.

It would be a lie if Y/N said she wasn’t worried. Her dog had taken many hits before, some much worse than what happened tonight. But Ellie was getting old, her reaction time much slower than what it once was, now proven with the timid dog that walked in time with her steps. The bounce back of her usual energy was taking much longer than it ever has.

Y/N didn’t dare think of the extremities that could’ve taken place tonight, if her captor had been that much more forceful, or if Porco had been quicker with his gun. She could have lost the one thing that mattered most to her in this world. She still could. It was hard to keep the fear at bay. Death was imminent, there was no getting around it, but with the way Y/N’s worries plagued her mind it was like she enjoyed the torture of fearing the inevitable. Her overactive imagination was far too strong for her own good.

The only thing that anchored her to reality was the man who walked a few paces in front of her now.

Eren was strong with the way he moved through the shadowed forest, deliberate with his actions just as he was earlier that night. It seemed as though he wasn’t affected at all by what had happened, his strength resounding in the very way he kept them all moving. At the moment, Y/N was grateful for his resilience, it was like a spark of hope lighting itself against the aggressive darkness of dread.

It was the very lifeboat Y/N needed to pull herself from her own harrowed worries. She kept her eyes on the shoulders that were often brushed by the low hanging branches surrounding them. The sight of him keeping her present, keeping her moving.

Gabby, on the other hand, was far in the distance behind them, her feet dragging through the foliage that lay beneath their feet. Her demeanor was soft and quiet, unlike anything Y/N had known of her from before. Every so often Eren would turn, his teal gaze catching on to Y/N before shifting towards the young girl behind her. His brow would soon furrow every time he realized she hadn’t moved any closer.

With the time Y/N had now gotten to know the man, she knew that look well. He was worried— just as she was. Though this time it was more so than ever before. Perhaps he was worried for Gabby the same way Y/N was worried for Ellie. The events of the night caused far too much damage beyond the physical realm. The woman was unsure of what that damage could be for the young teenager, but it burdened her nonetheless. Since she now seemed to care about her as much as any other friend she’s had in her life.

So as the sun began to rise, and the day went on, there were many times when Y/N tried to engage the girl in conversation, ranging between casual topics to more in depth questions about what she was feeling at that moment. But every single time, her attempts were brushed off by a shrug and a brief comment of dismissal. A nut too tough to crack.

“Does she seem off to you?” Eren once asked, as they took a break by a small river, a babbling brook carving its way through the forest floor. Serene in its very nature and a sight that would usually excite the young girl. Though now she only sat silently on a large rock stationed near the bank, knees curled in on herself as she took in the scene.

Y/N pursed her lips at Eren’s question, unsure how to answer it without worrying him further.

“I don’t know, she’s quieter than usual.” Y/N replied, careful with her words. “We didn’t get much sleep… maybe she’s tired.”

“Yeah.” Eren responded, though he sounded unsure. “Maybe.”

The conversation was put to rest as soon as they continued on with their journey. The remainder of it was surrounded in silence as no one dared to speak. They passed through endless miles of forest green, their footfalls ringing out into the nature beyond. There was not a soul in sight beyond those within their group. There weren’t even any buildings from what they saw last of the church that faded into the distance behind them. The road was far gone as they ventured deeper and deeper into the trees.

When the sun was low in the sky, casting golden light over their heads, being quite obvious there was no promise of a shelter with four walls and a roof, Eren had finally conceded their journey.

“We need to stop for the night.” He had said, now standing in front of a naturally formed alcove, established in the side of a hill.

The rest of them gratefully accepted his notion, their tired feet now overworked from a day of walking. Gabby immediately threw off the backpack that was digging into her shoulders, it falling onto the forest floor with a resounding thump.

“Finally.” She relented, flopping down besides her belongings, seeming a bit more like herself. Y/N smiled softly at the display, her worry slowly beginning to ease its way out of her system.

“We can set up a fire here.” Eren continued as the action-man he always was.

“You think it’s safe?” Y/N inquired, unhooking Ellie from her leash, allowing her to sniff around the premises they deemed worthy for their camp.

“We covered a lot of ground.” He nodded, already clearing a space for a firepit. “And if we’re sleeping outside we’re gonna need the warmth.”

There were no arguments after that. Within the hour, as the light of the sun faded over the horizon it was replaced by the bright orange of a flickering fire, sparks popping up into the cool night air. The respective facial features of each person surrounding the heat was underlit by the dancing flames, each one of them stoic in their silence as they ate at the meal prepared by Eren— who had returned to the camp after searching for firewood, with a rabbit bouncing on his hip.

It was the first hot meal any of them had in days, a welcome comfort after the distress they faced. And it definitely raised Ellie’s spirits as she sat by Y/N’s side, staring eagerly as the woman picked small pieces of meat off the bone, drool slobbering from her lips. She grinned at the sight of her silly dog with her wagging tail. Never able to refuse her, Y/N gave her a bite between each one of her own.

When she had gifted her dog the last bite of their shared meal, Y/N rubbed her greasy fingertips across her jeans, her gaze shifting. And then she stilled. Her eyes landed on the man who sat across the fire, she was met with the blinding teal of his irises. He was already staring at her. And he didn’t even feel the need to be ashamed he had gotten caught. Instead, his expression was thoughtful as he considered her, slowly chewing his food. His strong features were accentuated by the fire below his feet, a reminder of how handsome he was, sending a jolt through Y/N’s spine.

She felt herself flush and quickly averted her gaze, eyes now landing on Gabby— who at that moment decided to push herself up to stand, thankfully stealing away Eren’s intimidating stare.

“I’m gonna hit the hay.” She said, clapping her hands free from any dirt.

“Take the sleeping bag.” Eren responded with no hesitation.

“Don’t need it.”

“Like hell you don’t.” He retorted, before pulling said sleeping bag out of his bag and tossing it her way. The girl plucked it out of the air with ease, but still rolled her eyes in the process.

“Fine.” She grumbled and then turned to go, probably hoping to make some distance between her and the firelight. But as the girl continued to walk away, Y/N realized she wasn’t stopping just beyond the orange halo of light the fire provided. She was moving deeper into the woods.

“Where are you going?” Eren was quick to react, standing on his feet. Gabby stopped at his words, turning to face him.

“I’m gonna sleep over here.” Gabby answered, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. Eren’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why?”

“It’s called privacy, old man, ever heard of it?” She chided. Y/N noticed how a muscle twitched in Eren’s jaw.  He took a step forward, perhaps about to drag the young girl back over to them by force. Y/N opened her own mouth before he could.

“Hey, Gabby?” She inquired, standing on her feet as well.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind taking Ellie again?” Y/N asked, her tone soft with the question in contrast to Eren’s sharp frustration. “I think she prefers sleeping with you.”

A small smile flickered up on Gabby’s lips, she nodded simply and waited as Y/N prodded Ellie to follow after the girl, which of course she did happily. From the corner of her eye she saw Eren's shoulders visibility relax, but only slightly.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he sat back down on the log he had dragged over near the fire earlier that evening, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Y/N fidgeted where she stood, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was just the two of them.

“I’m sure she’s alright.” Y/N offered, bending down over her own backpack to tug out a small blanket she had buried deep in its confines. Something to do with her hands.

“She’s not acting like herself.” Eren countered, his hand dropping down to his lap, revealing his worried features.

Y/N shrugged, not having much to say on the matter since she’s only known the girl for a short amount of time. She did notice the difference with her most recent demeanor, but Y/N was once a teenage girl too, and she knew how much of a rollercoaster that was in and of itself.

“Maybe she really does want privacy.” She mused, as she spread her blanket out across the forest floor, close to the warmth of the fire.

“She hates sleeping alone.” Eren blurted, “Ever since I found her. If I wasn’t near her when she woke up, she’d…”

Eren shook his head, his words fading off his tongue. Perhaps in respect to Gabby’s newfound want of privacy, not wanting to reveal the moments when she’s weak. But Y/N didn’t take offense to that. She understood. As well as the fact that the picture was already painted.

“It’s just… weird for her to want to be alone. Especially after last night,”

“Well, she’s not alone, is she?” Y/N reminded him with a soft smile. He met her gaze, his own lips twitching up slightly with the reassurance.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He breathed, “Thanks… for that.”

Y/N shrugged off his gratitude, shaking her head, “Nah, don’t worry about it. It was the truth anyways, I think Ellie likes her more than me.”

Eren let out a low chuckle at that, causing Y/N’s stomach to dip. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to hold back a brighter grin. She hid her face by focusing on straightening out her blanket, even though she didn’t really need to.

“Are you going to sleep?” Eren asked, his attention being caught by her redundant movements.

“Um… Yeah.” Y/N said, her tone going up a pitch with hesitation. She had made the decision in the pause between her words. She wasn’t exactly planning on going to bed, but she supposed that’s exactly where she was headed with her current actions. “Are you?”

“I’ll probably stay up.” Eren told her. “Take watch.”

“Okay.” Y/N nodded, and then she paused again, looking around.

“Don’t you have a sleeping bag too?” She questioned.

“Oh, uh, no.” Eren replied, looking down at his feet. “That was our only one.”

“Won’t you be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured her. Y/N narrowed her eyes at the man, unconvinced, but with the soft smile he offered her she found herself letting it slide. So instead of arguing, she slipped underneath her blanket— unconventional for sleeping besides a campfire, but better than nothing. And once she was settled, back turned away from the fire (as well as Eren’s burning gaze), her exhaustion finally registered in her brain. It was almost a surprise how quickly sleep took over her form.

Though she slipped out of it just as quick a few hours later at the aggressive sound of chattering teeth. She woke up with a furrowed brow as the sound had snuck into her dream in a confusing fashion. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she raised herself on one palm, looking around the now darkened camp. The fire was almost completely out, only a few glowing embers sat among the ash. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she took in the sight of Eren’s shadowed form, laid out in front of the log he once sat at. His shoulders were shaking, curled in on himself for any sense of warmth.

“Eren?” Y/N croaked. He jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Shit—” He sat up quickly from his position on the floor. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”

Y/N shook her head, to forego his apology, though she quickly realized how dark it was, and felt foolish since he probably couldn’t even see the gesture.

“That’s alright.” She then whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” Eren replied.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” She questioned again.

“Not at all.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Another thing he couldn’t see, but maybe he could feel the force of her frustration as he spoke again.

“I’m alright.” He reiterated. Y/N let out a huff of annoyance. And then Eren’s teeth started chattering again. This was ridiculous.

“Eren, I’m not deaf, you know?” She argued. “I’m cold just listening to you. Take my blanket.”

“Then you’ll be cold.” Eren countered through the dark.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll take next watch.” She told him.

“But you were still sleeping.” Apparently he wouldn’t let this go. And Y/N’s patience was wearing thin.

“Fine.” She stated, her tone decisive just as her next choice. “Then come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.” She repeated, her frustration now very apparent.

“Why?”

“The way I see it, we can either keep arguing who gets to take the blanket or we can just skip ahead to the obvious solution.” She answered, sitting up all the way, her eyes finding purchase on his shadow in the dark.

“And the solution is…?”

“We’ll share.”

Eren didn’t respond after that. In fact it even sounded like he wasn’t breathing at all. He went so still that Y/N almost thought he had fallen back asleep. Or maybe even left her alone by the dying fire. She opened her mouth to say something more, but was cut off when Eren finally spoke.

“Are you sure you want to?” He asked, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Neither one of us wants the other to be cold.” She said, her frustration taking a back seat as she matched his tone. “It’s the only way.”

He paused again. But this time Y/N was certain he was there.

“Okay.”

Through the shadows of the night she heard shuffling as Eren stood from his spot. The sounds of his slow footsteps signaling his arrival to her side of the camp. When he finally reached her he had stopped— standing above her, hesitating for what was to come next.

Y/N stared up at him, his teal eyes somehow shining through the dark. Her stomach dipped once again once she realized how close he would be within a few seconds. Maybe that’s why he took a pause, maybe he realized the same thing. Y/N wondered if she should be nervous. Though she definitely was, as her hands trembled in her grip around the blanket. Even so, she held his gaze as she peeled back the fabric. A silent invitation.

A deep breath was released from the man in front of her, perhaps preparing himself. Though the pause was much shorter now as he soon accepted it.

They were silent as he placed himself beside her, fingers brushing when he went to grab his corner of the blanket from her. A soft gasp escaped her throat when they did. Y/N prayed Eren didn’t hear it.

Though that would almost be impossible considering how close they were. Y/N’s blanket was small—  small enough to fit in her backpack comfortably with the rest of her items—  so for it to be able to cover the both of them fully, their shoulders had to be pressed together, their backs against the forest floor. They both lay rigid, and uncomfortable. Afraid to move. Afraid to breathe.

They laid like that for a while.

“I’m worried about Gabby.” Eren whispered into the air, surprising Y/N once he broke the silence. His tribulations from before still haunting him to the point where he must’ve needed to say something out loud. Maybe their proximity made him feel safe to do so.

“How so?” Y/N encouraged, knowing that he’ll eventually reveal what was really going on, hopefully providing clarity on his own theories on why Gabby was acting so differently.

“She’s never killed anyone before… a person, I mean. ”

Oh. Y/N’s heart sank. What a strange joke made by the universe. Just the night before they were confiding with one another about the burden left behind by the cruel acts this new world forced your hand to make. And now Gabby was faced with the same moral dilemma. Even if the man deserved it, having to kill someone with your own two hands takes a toll. The first one being the worst of them all.

“I never wanted her to have to do that.” Eren continued, his words said with a slight strain in his voice. Y/N didn’t dare look over, in case he was displaying emotions that didn’t want to be shared. She kept her head faced towards the sky above, stars blinking down from between the branches of the high standing trees.

“I knew it was inevitable.” He added, and then he released another harrowed breath. “But she’s just a kid. I wanted to hold it off as long as possible… but now that it’s happened, I’m scared— no, terrified that…”

“That it will change her.” Y/N finished for him.

“Yeah.” He responded, even though she didn’t phrase it as a question. The word hung in the air above them, neither of them really knowing what to say.

“Well it is going to change her.” Y/N then said, ripping off the bandaid. “It already has.”

“I know.” Eren conceded, “But she shouldn’t have to know what it’s like. And now that she does… I’m even more terrified that she’s gonna end up like me.”

Y/N let herself look at Eren at that. His features were lost to the darkness, but she could see the silhouette of his nose. He was still looking away. Though his head slightly twitched towards her as she shifted under the blanket, changing her position so that she lay on her side, arms curled into her chest.

“Is that such a bad thing?” She whispered.

“If you knew who I was before… What I did before… maybe it is.” He replied.

“Before what?” Y/N questioned.

“Before Gabby.” He murmured. “...Before you.”

He turned his head to look at her, their gaze finally meeting once more. Y/N saw the worry that had been flickering over his irises all day, now at full force as he admitted his fears and his regrets. Y/N sucked in a breath, her own eyebrows tugging up with concern at what his self image was. She felt a desperate need to change that for him.

“As far as I can tell, if this is the person you are after meeting Gabby… if she was the one who pulled you out of whatever you used to be, I think she’ll be just fine. If you’re there to do the same.”

Eren’s eyes softened at her words. The tension slowly seeped out of his shoulders.

“She’ll need you there too.” Eren breathed, he shifted his body into the same position Y/N was in, they now faced each other head on, nowhere to hide as they held onto each other's gaze.

“You think so?” She murmured, a small spark of warmth glowing behind her sternum at the inclusion. It felt silly to be somewhat excited about the prospect, but it made her realize just how badly she needed the reassurance.

“I know so.” He assured her.

“And what makes you so confident?” She replied, lips tilting up in a half smile, her teasing coming out at the most inopportune moments. But Eren paid it no mind. Instead he simply answered her.

“Because I needed you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. Her smile sliding off of her face in quick succession. His honesty sent a jolt of surprise to run through her nerves. Her eyes searching his face for any sign of the joke he must obviously be playing on her.

“At the church, you asked me if that was the case.” He continued, since Y/N’s words were lost to her. “And I just thought you should know that I do. I need you.”

“I need you too.” Y/N whispered, the confession falling so easily off of her lips. Almost like she was just falling into the motions of this conversation.

But of course the words were true. They couldn’t have been anything else. It was proven in the short amount of time they had known each other that they already needed one another to survive in a world like this. But perhaps there was something hidden. A deeper meaning that was not yet discovered. Or rather, not yet revealed. It was too soon to do so now. So perhaps they can hang on to the surface level, and find satisfaction within the shallow end.

Eren sucked in a breath at her reciprocating words. Almost like they were a surprise to him. But his softened features twisted harshly once again as remorse seemed to take over.

“I’m so sorry.” Eren had then said, closing his eyes and shaking his head against the earth beneath them, confusing Y/N in the process.

“For what?”

“For letting them hurt Ellie, letting them get to you.” He whispered, teal eyes revealing themselves, filled with shining regret. “And then when he… when he threatened to—”

“Eren.” Y/N said, her tone now pleading, knowing where he was going with this. She was desperate to stop the oncoming spiral he was headed towards.

“He was going to…” He swallowed around the words, unable to say them out loud.

“But he didn’t.” Y/N asserted, placing a hand onto Eren’s freezing cheek. His own large hand moved to cover it, like it was instinctual for him to do so.

“You must’ve been so scared.” He strained, fingers wrapping tighter around hers.

“I wasn’t scared.” Y/N shook her head, confidence dripping from every word. “Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you were there.” She whispered as she shifted their hands so that they were now clasped in the small space between their bodies, wanting to make sure that he saw the truth within her irises. “I knew I’d be okay— that we’d all survive, because you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no room for fear knowing that.”

Eren’s eyes flicked over each feature on Y/N’s face, as if he were looking for any hidden lies. When there were none to be discovered, a shaking breath of relief escaped from between his lips. He nodded in agreement.

“That’s what I felt too.” He revealed. “Having you there with me.”

“We make a pretty good team, huh?.” She smiled softly at him, causing a soft chuckle to push through his nose. The sound of content being the greatest thing she’s ever heard.

“I suppose we do.” He inevitably agreed.

And that was the last thing said before they let their conversation slowly fade into the night, being replaced by the soothing caress of sleep. The sound of their even breaths moving in time, their hands still intertwined between them.

Eren’s P.O.V.

Eren awoke to the sound of birdsong, and gentle blue sunlight that only shows itself in the early hours of the morning. His eyes were left without the usual bitter sting that came with a restless night of sleep. In fact, he had felt more rested than he had in years. Perhaps the difference was the woman that now resided in his arms, a position that must have formed itself sometime during the night.

The faded scent of mint overwhelmed his senses with his nose pressed into her hair. His rough calloused fingers had somehow slipped under the fabric of her shirt, firm against the burning skin of her hip, her back was held tightly against his chest from their proximity.

His heart stuttered, having her this close to him. Though he felt uncertain of how he was supposed to react to it all. Was he allowed to relish in the press of her body against his own? Was this something she wanted or perhaps it was all unconscious actions done under the influence of sleep and a need for warmth.

Of course that was when the woman shifted in his arms, though only doing so to sink deeper into the solid form of his body. Unfortunately, the action brought forth a shocking discovery when the curve of her ass brushed lightly across his crotch.

A low hiss escaped his lips when that in turn brought notice to the natural phenomenon that occurred behind his zipper whenever the sun would rise. Eren’s touch became softer and more unsure as he held his breath, willing all of the strength inside his body to hold himself still, not wanting to give her a rude awakening. But Y/N only relaxed further into his chest, the entirety of her now pressing solidly against the whole of him. He prayed to the universe that she was still asleep and unaware of what was happening behind her.

Eren shut his eyes, focusing on the pattern of his breathing.

They shot open when Y/N shifted her hips once more, ever so slightly but somehow more intended. Was she awake? Did she know what she was doing?

He found out the answer to that when she did it again, this time very much purposefully as the roll of her hips pulled a groan from deep within Eren’s throat. His own hips pressing back into her of their own volition. A soft sigh escaped the girls lips at the accidental reciprocation, her sound of satisfaction causing his cock to twitch in his pants.

“W-what are you doing?” He murmured into her hair, his hands shaking as they searched for an appropriate place to rest. His brain fuzzy as Y/N found a consistent pattern, his breathing growing heavy in her ear.

“Nothing.” She whispered softly, almost convincingly innocent. The next harsh grind of her ass caused Eren's hand to shoot out and grip at her waist.

“This isn’t why— shit—,” Eren strained, trying to convey that she didn’t have to do this for him, the words fumbling over his tongue. “I don’t want you to think that I—”

“—Shh. ’m not thinking anything.” She cooed, snaking a hand up to rest on the back of Eren’s neck, bringing him closer. A spark of electricity shot down his spine at the touch of her fingertips against his skin. “Just feels good.”

“Y-yeah.” Eren agreed breathlessly, dipping his nose down into the crook of her neck. “It does.”

Her reassurance brought a sense of confidence to the man, his grip growing harsher against her waist as he began to rut into her more deliberately. A sweet moan protruded from Y/N’s lips, the sound of it resounding in another twitch of Eren’s cock.

Heat began to surge all around them in a great contrast to the cool morning air. Unreleased tension threatened to burst as they continued to work themselves up. Y/N’s ass was now pushing back into him with a gentle rhythm, Eren pressing himself into her harder with each one of her back-thrusts.

Harsh desperate breaths wavered out from their throats, punctuated every so often by Eren’s low grunts and Y/N’s tiny whines.

Every part of Eren was on fire, a sheen of sweat layering itself onto his skin as he continued to hump into her, chasing a high that was dangerously close, far too soon.

Not that the woman in front of him was doing any better. She was arching into every firm grind of his hips, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan, shivering under the fingertips that Eren was now dragging over her skin, deeper into the fabric of her shirt. A sharp gasp left her lips when they brushed the fabric of her bra, catching on the hardened nipple underneath.

“Does that feel good?” Eren smiled into her hair, earning another sweet moan from the pride in his voice.

“Mhm.” She whined, nodding her head, her movements becoming quicker in her excitement.

“Feel’s good for me too, sweetheart.” He groaned, the nickname falling freely from his lips through the dizzying cloud of pleasure. “Gonna make me cum.”

“Please.” Y/N begged, grabbing the hand that was on her waist and holding it there, a silent concession to take what he needed from her.

A deep shudder rolled through Eren’s shoulders at the anticipation. More grunts tumbling from his lips with every thrust. He was pushing himself harder into her than ever before. He was close, so close—

“Ellie!”

The sound of Gabby’s voice had the two adults scrambling apart. Their secluded bubble of lust now burst and raining down on them with heavy disappointment and unyielding embarrassment. Abrasive in his actions, Eren stood quickly from his spot, turning away from the scene of the crime. Only for his eyes to land on Ellie, who sat at the precipice of the clearing, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, tail thumping wildly against the foliage.

The stupid, fucking dog.

“Don’t run off like that!” Gabby was soon to appear behind her, sleeping bag tucked under her arm.

Before Gabby caught sight of them and any shame that might still be lingering in the air, Eren quickly turned to the nonexistent last glowing embers of the fire, pretending to stomp them out like that was his plan all along. He heard the zipper of Y/N’s backpack behind him, surely busying herself with a different menial task to feign innocence.

“Morning.” The teenager called out as she closed the distance left between them. The two of them returned her greeting with some of their own, awkward in the way they spoke. But the young girl didn’t seem to notice, only moving to pack up the sleeping bag, completely unaware of their fragile facade.

Eren scratched at the back of his neck, the burn of Y/N’s touch ever present.

What the hell just happened?

~~~

A/N: Honestly this chapter is all over the place but I hope you like it!! hehe! let’s see where there relationship goes from here, shall we?? muahaha ILYSM thank you for reading! <3<3

Taglist:  @large-juice @dududubebo @jaegersdiary @tojis-discord-kitten @amityblu @givemeasec @conniesbbymama @prblmtic @comfypigeon @intimacywithceline @erensnumbaonegirl @aangsupremacy @oneofthesevensins @theyloveniqueeeee​​ 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader smut #eren yeager x reader smut #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader

[little-peril-stories]

🌈 ROYGBIV Tag Game

Rules: Search your your writing for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpt.

I wasn't tagged in this. But I wanted to do it. :) so I’m posting it for my bday. Happy birthday to me 🎉🍰🌈

open tag ✨

RED - The Court of Rogues

I’m standing now, drawing a blade down her perfect skin, watching redness well up where the knife slices into her flesh.

ORANGE - The Prince of Thieves

Gusting wind, stronger than before, kicks up a tornado of leaves, recently fallen and vibrant against the slowly dying grass. I watch them swirl, frantically at first and then lazily, like orange and yellow snowflakes, until they fall and coat the ground again.

YELLOW - The Queen of Lies

Of course it was worth it, the thief told the voice, even though there was nobody in the world who would believe him if he said those words out loud. But he had gifted Hatchett a bloody nose when he tried to run, and that was something. There was still an ugly bruise on the constable’s ugly face, yellow like rancid butter, and the thief seized a tiny piece of glee and satisfaction every time he saw it.

GREEN - The Queen of Lies

Hazel eyes, red-rimmed and heavy-lidded and watery and glazed, locked onto hers, and Breanna’s heart shuddered and stopped. What a peculiar colour were those eyes—a mix of green and gold, staring at her from a dirt-streaked face dusted with freckles. As his eyes closed again and his head fell forward, a shock of red-brown hair tumbled over his face, and she could see nothing but the sickening crimson canvas of his back.

BLUE - The Court of Rogues

It’s the sunset over the lake, painted in blues and purples and reds and pinks and oranges, forming a gentle gradient of looming night to the sun’s farewell glow. Deep greens for the trees along the shore, laden with leaves in the height of summer. The very rocks, it seems, upon which we now sit.

INDIGO DARK BLUE - The Prince of Thieves

A ragged breath catches in my chest. They’re dragging someone in. A girl—a girl? Good god, it’s her—that girl. They’re leading her down the corridor, the pale cotton of her dress blinding against the dark blue of their uniforms as she stumbles along.

VIOLET - The Prince of Thieves

I never had much chance to go walking around in the woods, but the more I imagine it, the more he seems to belong in the picture. He walks easily, unhurried and unhurt, reaching curious hands to brush the bark of an oak, the silk of a fern, the blush of a violet. Intact clothes, unspoiled by blood and grime, skin clean and free of a single bruise. I bet that hair practically glows red when the sun hits it just right. Especially in the light of sunset, when the sky turns to pink and orange flame.

#tag game #roygbiv tag game #mention of: #lady whump #tw blood #open tag

[ofduskanddreams]

All That Matters

For @c-e-d-dreamer and @cassianappreciationweek day 4. The request: Nessian. Any setting of your choosing, but how about something soft and sweet?

Nessian ✦ Rated M ✦ 867 words ✦ on AO3

CW: CANON-TYPICAL DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE

They sat on the river bank until the sun was fat and low in the sky, its orange fingers slinking through the willow boughs.

There was only the steady rise and fall of Cassian’s chest at her back, the warmth of him bleeding into her veins, and the I-love-you-s murmured back and forth at the same volume as the Sidra’s soft rush.

“Are you awake?” he whispered against her temple after a longer stretch of silence.

“For now,” Nesta replied, shifting to look at him. “But I’m not sure for how much longer.”

The reality of the last two days was finally settling into her bones now that the adrenaline had evaporated. The Rite, Briallyn, Nyx’s birth… exhaustion was lead seeping into her limbs and weighing them down, trying to draw her wholly into its grasp.

“Let’s go home then.” Cassian stood, then scooped her off the grass and into his arms. He launched them skyward and Nesta closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, the world had stilled again and Cassian was saying something. “... know you’re tired, but I need you to try to eat something first.”

He sounded so gentle, so worried about her, and Nesta smiled as she opened her eyes. This male—capable of a ferocity to rival the gods, yet wearing his heart for all to see… “I love you,” Nesta told him again, just because she could and it was decadent.

The house delivered them enough food for a small army, and Nesta managed to put away a plate and a half before her yawns began arriving at a frequency that made eating inconvenient.

Cassian noticed, of course he did. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we can sleep.”

Nesta considered protesting, a testament to the extent of her exhaustion considering that she hadn’t bathed in over a week, but knew she would regret going to bed layered in the residue of the Rite.

Cassian ran the bath as she sat on the edge of the counter and watched him move about the room. He helped her out of her clothes, his touch mindful of the bruises still littering her skin. He joined her in the bath, carefully maneuvering her tired limbs until she was leaning back against him again. 

With a soft cloth, he worked honey-scented soap into a lather and began to clean away the grime. It was all Nesta could do to keep from dozing off.

But her closing eyelids snapped open when her mate took a shuddering breath that turned into a bitten off sob. Nesta turned around so quickly that she sent water careering over the sides.

“I could have killed you,” Cassian whispered in horror, looking down at his hands—they were trembling. 

She took his shaking fingers in her own and squeezed. “You didn’t. You fought her.” Nesta shuddered as she remembered the sight of Cassian plunging that knife into his own chest rather than hers.

He shook his head, “I wanted to hurt you, Nes. It was…” he trailed off, looking to the side and squeezing his eyes shut. 

A crystalline droplet streaked down his stubbled cheek and Nesta caught it with her thumb, coaxing him to face her.

“You weren’t yourself. That feeling wasn’t you—it was Briallyn and the Crown.”

The pain in his hazel eyes echoed through her and she drew him into her arms, holding him as tightly as she could.

“I thought…” Cassian drew a deep breath and held it, blowing it out slowly. “I thought I might never see you again. When I arrived at Emerie’s and you were missing, the smell of those males, of the drugs…” he shivered, putting his nose to her neck and taking another controlled breath. 

“I thought I might have lost you and then to see you on that mountain, to be a puppet, forced to watch myself try to harm you without knowing if I could resist it… gods, Nesta, I was so scared.”

He lost his grip on the rhythm of his lungs, breaths turning shallow again. 

“You did resist her, Cassian. That’s the only thing that matters.” Nesta traced patterns on his back and around the base of his wings as she held him. 

The house kept the water at a steady temperature even as their fingers wrinkled. Eventually, the tide of emotion Cassian had clearly been holding back receded. They took turns helping each other wash. 

A tired yet comfortable silence settled between them as they climbed out of the bath, hastily dried off, and then collapsed into her bed. 

In the darkness, her mouth found Cassian’s, and she kissed him, pouring everything she felt into the touch: relief, gratitude, and more love than Nesta had ever imagined herself to be capable of. 

Her friends and family were safe and healthy. She had her mate, and her home. There were many unresolved problems, sure, but they would still be there in the morning. 

All Nesta cared about now was the steady beat of Cassian’s heart beneath her ear. His even breaths filled the quiet, starlit room and Nesta’s lungs slowed their pace to match as she finally allowed reality to drift as dreamless sleep embraced her. 

✦ ✦ ✦

tagging: @damedechance @itsthedoodle @moodymelanist @areyoudreaminof @octobers-veryown @krem-does-stuff @iftheshoef1tz @moonpatroclus @panicatthenightcourt @thelovelymadone @talons-and-teeth

#cassianappreciationweek2023 #nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian acosf #nesta archeron #nesta acosf #pro nesta #acosf #acosf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar drabble #kate's celebratory drabbles series

[slippinmickeys]

Proof of Life

(AU, MSR)

TW: This is an AU idea I’ve been playing with for years, and while this does not take place there, in light of the recent atrocities in the Middle East, the situations presented herein may cause discomfort for some readers. I’m posting a trigger warning for those who may want to stay away. There are mentions of violence in this work, though nothing graphic. I’m using an archive warning on AO3 out of an abundance of caution. Please take care of yourselves and each other.

1. When she’s shoved into the hotel room, it is on a scorching dump of adrenaline; dry-throat, sphincter-clenching, pure terror. She’s sure this is It. But the door closes behind her before she’s finished stumbling forward, and no one has followed her in.

The relief she feels is short-lived, as she looks up to see a man sitting on the floor opposite her, legs out straight, head propped lazily against the wall behind him, days worth of beard stubble growing unevenly over his jaw. He is holding a mid-century Nikon, which he slowly raises with one arm. A squint through the viewfinder. Click.

Ten floors down, on the street below, there is the rapid insect-chitter of gunfire. He doesn’t so much as flinch, but does lower his camera.

“Cable is out and room service hasn’t showed in over a week,” he says in an American accent. “The service here is terrible.”

Her producer Murray, who also acted as her translator, is dead. Mikey was shoved into a different van, along with his camera and the soft-sided bag of cables and equipment. That communication won’t be a struggle with what she now assumes is her new cell mate feels like a holy deliverance.

Before she can formulate a response, he introduces himself.

“Name’s Mulder,” he says, the distant fireworks-like concussion of an explosion punctuating his statement and rattling the room’s single window.

“Dana Scully,” she says, feeling an odd compulsion to cross the room and offer the man a handshake.

“Scully,” he repeats, her surname rolling off his tongue like honey out of a jar. “Welcome to the Hilton.”

2. He’d let her take the bed, which was pretty chivalrous, all things considered.

It was a queen, and had been shoved up against the wall on the far corner of the room, leaving a soft rectangle of plush, clean carpet upon which Mulder slept, surrounded by flattened, trodden paths of grime. The headboard was still affixed to the wall where the bed had previously sat, giving the room a tilting, off-kilter feel. As Scully exits the bathroom in the morning, she nearly stumbles from the vertigo.

There is still a trickle of water from the bathroom sink, and the toilet tank takes about an hour to properly fill, but Mulder informs her that he has yet had reason to use the slop bucket the militants have helpfully left just inside the door. She imagines the small relief she feels now will likely grow bigger as the days pass.

“Morning,” Mulder says, stretching elaborately, the soiled henley he’s wearing lifting up enough to show a few inches of lean muscle sprinkled with dark hair.

“Morning,” she greets him, wandering over to the window to peer out at the gray, post-dawn light. To the west, part of the city is burning, a dull orange glow on the horizon.

After a moment, she feels a gentle hand on her arm.

“I’d stay away from the window,” Mulder says, and when she turns to him, she discovers that he’s tall, far taller than she is, and his hazel eyes are soft as he leads her away from the square of flat light. “There are snipers all over the city.”

She swallows, nods at him, and he gives her a soft smile as he turns to head into the bathroom for his own morning ablutions. She lowers herself to the bed, and looks to the shoes she kicked off before crawling under the covers. There is a spatter of blood covering the canvas upper of her left shoe, all that remains of Murray Underwood. She tries to feel something other than numbness, but nothing comes to the surface.

When Mulder comes out of the bathroom, he asks if she’s hungry, and produces a slender yellow box of crackers from somewhere in the room, pulling out a cellophane-wrapped column of pale disks dotted with black seeds that he hands over when she says she’s famished.

She has finished the sleeve before she thinks to offer him one, but he smiles and says he’s fine.

3. It has been three days since she was shoved unceremoniously into room 1055 and they have not seen so much as another human other than those darting between buildings on the war torn street below.

She has learned that Mulder is a freelance photojournalist from Massachusetts who has photographed conflicts everywhere from Burma to the Congo and that he was taken two days before she and her crew were ambushed and taken hostage themselves.

He does not have an apartment or permanent mailing address, traveling from conflict to conflict with only a backpack and his camera, and is far more comfortable with the disturbing noises outside the hotel than Scully ever will be, no matter how much she fancies herself a war reporter.

He has just gotten her to laugh for the first time since her arrival when the door to their room bursts open and three militants carrying assault rifles trample in, all three of them shouting words Scully can’t understand, their guns up as if they are about to shoot.

Mulder, who had been sitting on the bed next to her, is already up, spitting out words in rapid-fire French and positioning himself in between the gunmen and Scully. The militants either don’t understand him or don’t care and through a haze of adrenal tinnitus she can finally make out one thing they’re saying:

“CNN! CNN!”

She raises her hand meekly.

“I’m CNN,” she says, and the men shove Mulder aside and grab her by both arms, pulling her from the bed and shoving her up against the wall.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Mulder says, making a move to intervene, only to be cold-cocked by the butt of the third man’s rifle right in the face. He staggers to the side before he too is grabbed by the arms and shoved up against the wall next to Scully. All three men swing up their rifles and Scully is certain they’re about to be executed when a fourth man appears, dressed in an actual military uniform and shoves a newspaper into Scully’s hand, gripping her arm in annoyance when she turns it to stare at the headline, which is printed in a language she doesn’t understand.

The man barks something at her and yanks on her arms again, so that she’s holding the paper in front of her like a con holding up a booking ID in a mugshot. He whips up a beat-up disposable camera and takes a picture, the little flash blinding her.

By the time her vision clears, the room is once again empty but for she and Mulder and they are both breathing hard in the silence. Mulder is the first one to find his voice.

“Don’t worry,” he says, putting a hand on her arm. “They’re clearly after a ransom. They’ll keep us alive. Are you okay?” She turns to him dumbly, still holding the newspaper.

The sight of blood knocks her back into the present.

“Jesus, Mulder, you’re bleeding.”

There is a rivulet of blood running down his face from a laceration at his temple. He raises up a hand and touches it to the stream, looking down at the crimson smudge with a wince.

“I’ll be alright,” he says.

“Let me see,” she says, trying to get a closer look, but he gently swats her hand away.

“I’ll be fine.”

“That likely needs stitches,” she says, and he makes a face. She sighs. “I’m doctor, Mulder. Please let me take a look. Sit on the bed.”

He finally relents, lowering himself to sit and giving her a look askance. “I thought you were a reporter for CNN.”

“I contain multitudes,” she says, stepping in close and tilting his chin up with her finger.

He hasn’t showered in days, hasn’t done more than a few hasty washcloth seam cleans, she knows, but the smell of him up close, the smell of his skin – sun-warmed and woodsy – is so familiar to her that she has to blink a few times before she can refocus on the task at hand.

“It needs stitches,” she proclaims after a moment, saying it in a crisp, no-nonsense way that brooks no argument.

“It’s too bad we don’t have access to-”

“I saw a sewing kit in the bathroom,” she interrupts, and she can see the moment he resigns himself to her ministrations.

He complains loudly as she splashes the cut with the small bottle of complementary Listerine, but remains silent as she sutures his wound closed, leaning in close to bite off the thread when she finishes. As she pulls back, she can see a thought flit across his face, but he merely thanks her softly when she’s done and then stands to go clean up in the bathroom.

That night, she invites him to share the bed, and they sleep on opposite edges, though in the morning their fingers are only inches away from each other and her feet have found their way under the warm meat of his leg.

4. It was inevitable really, she says to herself; forced proximity, the bonding of shared peril, two healthy middle-aged sex drives… And it’s not like there’s anything else to do. She thinks of Ethan, probably losing his mind with worry back in the newsroom, but can only muster a finite amount of regret. After two weeks of carefully skirting around the issue, she pressed her body into Mulder’s side one night and it was as if a floodgate had opened, and they were all teeth and tongues and hands everywhere; the most lustful and sensual sex she has ever had in her life.

They have not been disturbed since the Proof of Life incident, other than food of some sort or another being shoved through a cracked door every few days, and so they have taken to not wearing much — their clothes mainly hanging up over the shower curtain in the bathroom, perpetually drying from their feeble attempts to wash them with a credit card-sized, ever-shrinking flat of generic soap that they also must use on their bodies.

Mulder is a generous lover, and affectionate, and now that he has carte blanche to touch her, it seems like it’s all he wants to do. If they’re not lazing away, curled up together in bed, he’ll find a reason to touch her arm, her back, tapping her with the back of his finger to get her attention. She has come to crave his touch, the physical manifestation of a pair-bond that grips them both so tightly it feels sometimes like a vice around her heart.

5. The fighting has moved to a different part of the city from where they are, and the sounds of the chaos seem almost a far-away afterthought. She is standing in the window, something she finally feels safe doing, when she hears a telltale click.

She turns to find Mulder propped up in the bed, bare chested, his beat-up Nikon held up to his eye. He reaches forward with his other hand to adjust the focus, and takes another snap.

Scully smiles at him shyly and he returns her grin.

“The light is perfect,” he says with bedroom eyes, using his thumb to advance the film. He has already gone through three rolls since she arrived, every picture he’s taken since day five all featuring her as the subject.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

She reaches up self-consciously to touch her hair. They are long-since out of shampoo, and it hangs in limp, greasy clumps. She is more embarrassed by this than by the state of her undress; she is not wearing a stitch of clothing.

“Something tells me this isn’t the kind of picture Newsweek generally pays you for.”

“Fuck Newsweek,” he says. “You belong in the Louvre.”

She shakes her head at him as a sound they have not heard in a while begins to build from outside the building. They both pause and cock their heads, attuned now to the odd sounds of a city under siege. From the distance comes the deep tucka-tucka-tucka of a helicopter. They share a look.

The militants who control this part of the city do not have a helicopter amongst their resources, and now that the sound is getting closer, they can tell there’s more than one approaching.

Without a word they both make their way to the bathroom and quickly don their stiff clothing.

“Shoes too,” Mulder says, as Scully puts her arms through her slippery jacket — it still has a large patch on the back that says “PRESS.”

The helicopters are almost on top of them now, and they can hear shouts from the hallway outside their room and the muffled thump thump thump of boots running in both directions.

“Into the tub,” Mulder instructs, and she sees the sense in this, nodding at him, her pulse beating quick as a rabbit’s beneath her skin. “I’ll get in first, you lay flat on top of me, okay?”

“Should we grab the mattress?” Scully asks, thinking they could pull it on top of themselves like she’d seen covering tornado-stricken parts of the Midwest.

“I don’t think there’s time,” Mulder says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as a spate of gunfire erupts from several floors above them.

He lowers himself in and she scrambles in after him, pressing her face into his chest and listening to the tight thump of his heart. The tub isn’t really big enough for both of them — Mulder couldn’t even fit his long legs all the way inside of it — but she feels safer than she has in months, with Mulder’s arms wrapped around her tightly, and his voice softly mumbling words of comfort into her ear.

There is an awful CRACK! from very close to their room and then an eruption of noise and chaos as the door to their room is blown apart, shards of wood from it blowing into the bathroom. Her ears are ringing and voices are shouting, but all she can focus on is Mulder’s arms around her and the soft steady sound of his voice in her ear saying “I love you. I love you so much,” over and over and over.

And then Mulder’s camera bag is sliding off of her legs (because of course he’d brought it into the tub with them) as strong arms lift her up and out of the tub and the next thing she knows, she is being frogmarched between two black-clad militants up an emergency stairwell and all the while she is calling desperately for Mulder but her voice or his is eaten up by noise and confusion.

In a further burst of sound and light, she is pushed through a door and onto the roof of the hotel where two muscular helicopters sit, blades spinning, surrounded by operatives crouched and bristling with all the sophisticated military might of a first world nation. She pulls up short in surprise.

“Ma’am! Ma’am!” It takes her a moment to register that the voice was coming from one of the soldiers holding her arms. She swings her head toward him, dumbfounded.

“Ma’am,” he goes on, having to shout above the cacophony of the rotor wash. “I’m with the United States Navy. We’re here to rescue you. I need you to board the aircraft immediately!”

Scully nods and then lets herself be swept along with the tide of soldiers surrounding her up and into the Blackhawk, where she is deposited onto a bench, buckled in, and handed a pair of bright orange foam earplugs which she is instructed to insert into her ear canals post haste.

Before she can think to ask a question, her chopper is airborne, tilting itself and veering south and the last sight she has of Mulder, for months and months, is the back of his body being hoisted into the other helicopter, his arms wrapped around his old camera bag as they’d been wrapped around her body not five minutes before.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #alternate universe #msr #war correspondent/photojournalist AU #please heed trigger warnings

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Cat Demon of Doom - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Vi goes toe to toe with One Bad Bitch.

@frostybearpaws

lmk if anything needs to be changed<3

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO on AO3

Snippet:

"What—?"

Vi is back in the ring, face-to-face with her second opponent. Or—face-to-midriff is a better descriptor.

The woman is full-blooded Vastayan—broad as a barge. Her proportions are uncannily Sphynx-like. A sphynx dunked in a vat of pink dye that gnawed at her fur, leaving behind a washed-pink pelt, tufted at the joints and mottled with old burns. The Vastayan's ears are large, feline, the tips raggedy from torn-off piercings. Between a scraggly mane, her eyes glint a piercing hazel. A scar crosses the bridge of her nose, and her mouth is a rictus of barbed teeth.

She looks like a cat-demon, ready to feast on Vi's entrails.

Vi gives her an appraising stare. No bad angles; no weak lines. This is a pro. Again, that coldwater chill resurfaces. A shapeless trickle of fear.

Blowing a fringe of hair off her face, Vi shoulders up to meet her opponent.

In the center of the ring, they touch gloves. The Vastayan's smile suggests this will be no different from stomping out a cockroach. Vi offers no reaction to the contrary. An overconfident opponent is easier to take down.

Again, the promoter lays down the stakes. Again, a collective roar goes through the crowd.

Vi and the Vastayan collide head-on. Her style is predictably bloodthirsty. Her fist shears through the air. Vi ducks, feeling the Vastayan's arm gust over her head in a powerful sweep, like a wrecking-ball's trajectory. If the blow connected, her skull would've been pulverized.

Swiveling on her heel, powering from her hips, Vi lets rip with her own right hook to the Vastayan's gut. Her flesh contracts in a rippling wave. She grunts, staggering before righting herself.

Vi backs away, bobbing on her tiptoes, and throws stiff jabs, elbows snapping out at the end. Typically, a pitty-patter approach isn't her style. But Vander had taught her that a smart strategy for a bigger opponent is to keep them at a distance. Always counterpunching, always flowing. 

If he's got thin skin or brittle bones, he’d say, the right jab at the right spot'll knock his lights out.

The Vastayan crowds in. One of Vi's blows catches her near the orbital ridge. There is a crunch. Pink fur flies. Blood flows, trickling into her eye socket. She blinks, and a pellucid film sweeps over her eyeballs. A membrane, Vi realizes. A second lid to protect fluid from blinding her.

Fuck.

Sensing Vi's dismay, the Vastayan smiles.

Then she swings.

Vi sees the fist crashing down as if from a great height: a God-Hand of doom. She swerves, but the blow glances off her shoulder, rocking her sideways with a bone-deep judder. Pain blitzes through her arm. Teeth gritted, Vi pivots and counterpunches. Her fist collides with the same spot as before, a snapping gut-punch. The Vastayan wobbles—Oof—then bares teeth limned in gray before bullrushing Vi.

The crowd stir in a gleeful susurration as the opponents circle each other, a rough figure eight across the sawdust, the Vastayan pursuing, Vi in retreat. She knows her opponent's game. Overrun Vi through sheer size, wearing her down in a game of attrition, before closing in for the kill.

Vi needs a better strategy.

Again, Vander's words reverberate: The right jab at the right spot'll knock his lights out.

They are overlapped by Sevika's parting shot: Go for the instep.

Fuck.

The instep.

Vi's eyes flick down, then up. The Vastayan is barefoot. A pair of vein-mapped appendages, grimed in dirt and tufted with fur, but entirely unguarded.

A cigarette flies through the gap in the barbwire cage, hitting the Vastayan's furred arm with a hiss. She snarls, head whipping toward the culprit. Through the blur of bodies, Vi swears that she glimpses Ran coalescing like a phantom back into the shadows.

Then it hits her.

Now's the chance to put the brawl to bed.

The cigarette falls near Vi's feet. She stomps it out as she blitzes forward. The Vastayan notices, firing off a dynamite left to keep Vi clear. Vi weaves nimbly around the blow, adrenaline zipping in her veins, that ecstatic clarity that turns every moment into a burst of slo-mo choreography. Dancing under the Vastayan's cinch, she stomps, hard, on her instep, twisting her torso at the same moment to launch her fist square into the Vastayan's face with all the force her body can summon.

There is the clash of two hard objects coming together. The more brittle of the two gives way. The Vastayan's snout caves in with a crack of cartilage. Blood splatters. Her fists fly up to her face. The moment it happens, Vi snags her ankle and twists sideways.

Like a tree felled by lightning, the Vastayan topples. The crash reverberates all the way to the rafters of the basement.

The crowd lets off a collective whoosh of breath—Aaaaaaaaah.

The Vastayan snarls, red spittle flying from her busted nose. Vi closes in, shutting down that part of her mind that knows mercy. She deals her opponent a final shot that impacts like a tranquilizer dart to her forehead. One brutal roundhouse to make lights flash-pop behind the Vastayan's eyes before—bam—it's fucking bedtime.

The Vastayan falls slack. Her liquid gurgles fill the suddenly stagnant air. The crowd is stunned to silence.

Then the chant begins: Five…four…three...two...

The Vastayan still hasn't moved. Her eyes blink blearily. Blood bubbles from her broken nose. When the gates swing open, three of her buddies arrive to haul her upright and help her stagger away. One of them tosses their drink at Vi. A cup bounces off her bruised shoulder, iced liquor splattering the sawdust.

Vi gives them the finger.

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane vi #violet #vi #arcane sevika #sevika #arcane vander #vander

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by: @kyber-infinitygems and @ivymarquis for another wonderful wip wednesday (alas I am late)

tagging: @unholymilf @wrathfulrook @anonymousmalkavian @fourlittleseedlings @harmonyowl @mccarthycormac @mxanigel @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @confidentandgood @afarcry5fromstraight @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @statichvm @sukoshimikan @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @josephseedismyfather @v0idbuggy @direwombat @florbelles @poetikat @fangsandroses @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt (no pressure of course)

writing tag list here to be added/removed

I am deep in the cod sauce working on my prequel fic so have some Rory and Price goodness as I treat myself to the tending to wounds trope:

��You’re a mess,” John rumbles as he takes in the sight of Rory under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom of the safehouse. Her skin was slick with the blood of another man and her own. Tears cutting through the grime and the dirt that covered her face, leaving a trail like veins through sedimentary rock. She leaned back against the sink counter, her fingers wrapped around it’s edge, white knuckled. Trembling as the reverberations of her actions coursed through her body. 

John loomed over her, and despite the imposing force he usually presented, the bulldog broke as steely blue eyes took in the sight of the normally stoic soldier crumbling before him – some things were even too much for someone like Rory to bear. “I’m gonna clean you up,” he purred softly, the rasp of his voice melting away as her hazel stare remained absent. Reaching around her to turn on the sink faucet, he moved carefully so as not to spook her, letting the water run, consistent like white noise out of the tap. 

Grabbing a washcloth, he ran it under the water, letting it soak into the fibres. Squeezing out the excess liquid into the sink, he leaned into her and began by rubbing the cloth against her hairline, getting the blood out of her hair. All the while he stayed focused on her eyes, the way they’d softly flutter shut with each touch of the cool water against her. Slowly but surely she lost the rigidity of a body post-mortem, and her gaze finally lifted to focus on him. “There you are.” A gentle smirk tugged at his lips as he continued to wipe her face clean of the viscera splattered against it, his free hand coming to rest on her jaw as he tilted her chin up to catch the streaks of bloody water that rolled down her neck with the cloth. “‘Fraid I might’ve lost you back there, Sinclair.”

She rolled her jaw, blinking several times. “Did I kill him?”

“You came damn near, wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. But what about you, eh?” Lingering on her pinprick pupils, he could tell she wasn’t quite clear of the woods yet. “You with me?”

Lifting her hand from the counter’s edge she rubbed at her brow, pulling her hand away to find her skin awash with rust stained water. “Is that my blood or his?”

“His.” He took the cloth and wiped the blood away from the palm of her hand, rinsing the cloth out once more. 

With most of the blood removed, her split brow and lip were clearly visible, the skin already swelling and sore around the vicinity of the injuries. Red dribbled down her temple from a cut on her scalp as well. She’d put up one hell of a fight, that was for sure. She was a scrapper, refusing to be prey. Yet more proof of the wolf that lay below the skin of the lamb that she presented to the world. 

“Rory?” John whispered out her name and her eyes snapped up towards him, the laser focus of a sniper burning a hole through him. “You did what you had to do back there, you know that. Right?”

“I know. It was him or me.”

“Exactly.” He dabbed the cloth against her split brow, putting pressure on the wound while wiping away the blood that had begun to clot into the hair. “You did a good job, Sergeant.”

What she huffed out was something between a laugh and a sigh as she winced, he already knew the reaction wasn’t from the pain of the wound, but rather the sting on the ego. “I mean it. You gave him hell, fucked him right up.”

She laughed if only not to cry, wishing she could curl herself up into a ball. She could only imagine the look on her father’s face if he saw her like this, this was never the life he’d wanted for her. It wasn’t the one her mother would have wanted either. “So I’m not going to be sent back to the SRR then?”

“No. Just gave me more of a reason to keep you around.” He looked down at her through his creased brow, his voice raspy and low. “You’re a fighter, Rory. We want any chance of protecting the rest of the world, we’re gonna need that.”

#did i borrow price's first two lines from a not-so-great movie that has barry sloane in it? too fucking right i did lol #wip wednesday #wip whenever #fic: all along the watchtower #oc: rory sinclair #captain john price #cod fanfic

[malarkgirlypop]

Lemonade Chapter 2 (Eugene Sledge x Fem!OC)

I forgot about this story TBH, I got stuck, I think I need to re-watch the pacific again to get my brain going again. Also the other chapter I posted didn't get much interaction so I thought I would put it on hold cause I didn't think anyone would notice ahaha.

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @xxluckystrike, @panzershrike-pretz (sorry if you didn't want to be tagged in this, let me know if you want off.)

“Something sweet?” I asked, holding out another cup. The men who passed us looked terrible. Gaunt, dirty and detached. The other nurses around me spoke to the men, welcoming them back from their mission. Most of them men smiled back, some even flirted. I tried my best not to cringe at their emaciated bodies, or injuries. My heart hurt, I had no clue what these men had seen but judging from their faces they would never forget. Our bright white uniforms looked pristine to the grime covered marines, we seemed out of place. Sticking out like sore thumbs. But the General decided it would be a good pick-me-up for the soldiers returning from their awful battles. 

“Hi, welcome back.” I said warmly to the marine who had stopped in front of me, handing him a drink. The man stood still, not moving to take the cup from my hand. I smiled trying to think of what else to say, “It’s good to see you.” Still the man stood staring directly into my eyes, glaring. My smile dropped, as I gulped. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. The marine who had been in charge of the stand told the man to move on, even then he didn’t flinch. 

“Why are you here?” He requested. The other nurses around me had stilled. We had been told to be weary, that the men that we knew before they were shipped away were not the same. Some had become more violent, easily provoked. Like they were wild bulls and we had to be careful not to spook them. They were unpredictable.   

“I’m here to serve my country.” I replied to the man, “Same as you.” His intense stare pinned me to the ground. He scoffed, taking the cup from my hand and tipping it back, then throwing it to the floor. He marched away not looking back. I let the breath I had been holding out, Ellie nudging me to get back to work. I plastered another bright smile to my face and continued to hand out drinks to the men. But for the rest of the day the man's eyes were burned into the back of my mind.

“That guy was scary.” Mary said to me as we packed up the stand we had been serving the drinks at. 

“Mary, don't say that! You don’t know what he has been through.” I scolded her, feeling bad that in the moment I was also scared. 

“Girl’s stop chit-chatting and let's go, we have things we need to do.” Ellie said as she folded the table cloth we were using. I picked up the table, folding the legs back underneath to make it easier for me to carry. 

“Hazel that table goes in the far storage tent, once you are done come meet us in the mess for dinner.” Ellie said as the rest of the nurses gathered the equipment we were using to take it back to the kitchen. I gave a sharp nod heading in the opposite direction to everyone else. I made my way through the camp, saying polite hellos to the men I passed. Some of them offered to help me carry the table to which I refused, “No it’s ok I got it.” I smiled at the marine who looked concerned, “Are you sure, isn’t that heavy?” He asked, looking at the table I held to my side. 

“Really it’s fine!” I said moving forward, the table was getting more heavy the amount of times I had to stop, they were making my trip take longer. I moved faster through the camp, stopping a couple of times to readjust my grip. Finally making it to the storage tent, I placed the table down where there was space, not caring much if that was its actual position. I shook out my tired arms. Wiggling my fingers to get the blood moving again. I wiped my brow with the back of my arm, “God it’s hot.” I muttered, fanning myself with my hands. I don’t think I have been this hot in my life, the weather here is so humid it’s like walking into a sauna. It almost feels like you’re being suffocated by the heat, it’s so thick. I finally convinced myself to walk back into the hot sun. I make my way to the mess. I can see now why all of the men barely wear any clothes. All of their uniform sleeves have been torn off to be short, some of the men walk around without any tops on. I wish I could do that, these dresses that they have us in are tight and thick. They are also white which is so impractical when we are dealing with all bodily fluids and they want us to keep them clean. Plus the amount I am sweating and the dirt and grime on my skin from having minimal access to showers really doesn’t help. I arrive at the mess to sit down with the girls before we have to move on to help in the infirmary. I push around the food on my plate, the heat for some reason doesn’t make me hungry and the thought of having a full stomach in this swelter makes me feel uncomfortable. 

“What? Are you not hungry?” Mary asks from beside me as she loads her fork with food. I shake my head pushing my tray towards her. She shakes her head.

“No, I'm about full myself.” She says also pushing her plate away. We sit and chat waiting for the rest of the girls to be done. We have to eat early so that the marines can come in and have dinner altogether and while they are doing that we help out in the infirmary.

I walk down the sandy path to the tent that has the injured and sick men. Mary walks beside me rubbing her stomach with a pained expression on her face. 

“Are you alright?” I ask her. Peering over at her, she looks pale and sweaty. 

“No, I think I ate too much.” She groans, looking ill. I pull her to the side of the path and let the nurses who follow behind us pass. I rest the back of my hand on her forehead, she’s sticky and hot. She’s a lot warmer than me though as I test my forehead heat against hers. A sheen of sweat covers her face, her appearance is pallor. 

“Girls hurry up!” Ellie calls from ahead of us. 

“Do you want me to take you back to your tent?” I queried as Mary took a deep breath shaking her head. “Are you sure? You don’t look well?” I asked again to be certain. 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to get out of this heat.” Mary replied weakly. I took her arm and dragged her along to catch up with the group. We stopped outside the tent, as Ellie went inside to speak to the doctor. 

“They are ready for us, Dr. Alpin will tell you what he needs you to do.” We followed Ellie inside the tent after she had given us the brief. The pungent smell of infection filled the warm air inside the tent. I did my best to breathe through my mouth, trying not to inhale through my nose so the smell wasn’t as strong. I heard Mary retch beside me. Ellie was quick to turn around at the noise. Mary had tried to straighten herself, but she couldn’t hold her gagging. 

“Hazel sort her out, we don’t need her puking on the men.” Ellie scolded, flicking her hand in our direction to shoo us away. I took Mary by her elbow leading her out of the tent. Only making it a couple of steps before she was hunched over and puking onto the ground. I rubbed small circles on her back as she got the remaining food out of her stomach. We made it back to the tent as I let her rest on the cot, I gave her water, and a wet towel to place on her head. 

“You rest up, drink water. I’ll be back soon.” I promised her and she weakly shook her head, her eyes still closed. I dipped out of the tent and went back to the infirmary. 

“Hazel how is she?” Ellie asked as I stood beside her. 

“She’s fine I gave her water, I’m sure she just needs to be out of the heat. She may have heat exhaustion. I will keep an eye on her tonight.” I reported back to the more senior nurse who gave a curt nod at my explanation. 

I was given the task of wound cleaning. I went around to the men who had big open skin lesions. They looked miserable as I washed their wounds with water and covered them the best I could with the little supplies I was given. I did my best at small talk while still focussing on the task at hand. It’s hard work but I like it, getting to help people is my calling apparently.  

After a long evening the girls meander back to their tents ready to get some rest after the big day. I check on Mary who snores softly in her cot, I rewet the cloth and place it back on her forehead. I slump down on my own bed, my heavy lids struggling to stay open. 

My eyes flutter open to the sound of chatter and movement. I yawn and stretch out my limbs. Getting into my uniform for the day. I nudge Mary awake. 

“How do you feel?” I ask her as she sits up looking dazed. 

“I had the weirdest dream, but other than that I feel better.” She smiles getting up and pulling on her clothes. I take my toothbrush outside to clean my teeth outside the tent. I sit on a fallen tree and brush my teeth, Mary joins me. 

“Hazel!” I heard being yelled across the camp. I look around to see who called my name. Ellie strides into view. I groan internally, I like Ellie. She is fair, but she likes me too. That means when she needs a job done she comes to me, she trusts I can get it done. 

“Yes?” I ask shielding my eyes from the bright sun to see her. 

“Can you grab the table again from the storage tent?” Ellie requested. I nodded my head standing from my position to put my toothbrush away before doing the task. 

I head down to the tent making my way quickly. I look down at the floor to ensure I don’t trip and also so I don’t get stopped to talk to by the passing marines. 

“Nurse! Nurse!” I hear being yelled, I lift my head to where the voice came from. A young man stands outside of his tent. He beckons me over with his hand. 

“Yes?” I say to the man. He is taller than me, dark thick curly hair and wide blue eyes. He grins at me as I approach. 

“Can you help me?” He asks in a thick southern accent. I look into the tent behind. I see the figure of another man inside. He moves inside the tent before I can answer him, he holds the flap open for me to follow. 

“I’m not supposed to go inside your tent, Sir.” I admitted. He only grins wider. 

“Oh we don’t bite, Miss.” He teases. I sigh, following him into the tent. I can make this quick, then no one will need to know. I can get the table and arrive back like nothing happened. 

“Now tell me, what is your name?” He inquires. I give him a confused look, wasn’t this an urgent request or did he only do this to bring me into the tent. I stiffen my stance. 

“Hazel Evans, Sir.” I replied politely. He chuckles at me. I shift wearily under his gaze. 

“I’m Snafu, but enough with the pleasantries. I need your help.” He changes the conversation, becoming more serious. 

“How can I help you?” I ask, scanning his body he has no apparent injuries or wounds. 

“Do my eyes look yellow?” He asks moving closer, widening his eyes for me to see. He leans forward, his breath tickling my face. I stare into his large eyes, his sclera appearing normal in colour. I raise my hand pulling down his lower lid to see the interior. The skin appears pink with healthy blood vessels. 

“They look fine Snafu, nothing to be worried about.” I smile at the man reassuringly patting him on his shoulder. 

“I told him that!” A voice comes from behind me, I turn to look at who spoke. My eyes go wide when they land on the tall man. His brown eyes locked onto mine, just like they did at the lemonade stand. I instinctively take a step back stunned. Snafu’s hands rest on my shoulders from behind me. He chuckles lowly hovering by my head. 

“Did Sledge frighten you?” He asks, looking from me to Sledge. I sober myself, shaking my head. I step out of Snafu’s space, my heart rate still beating fast. A tightness grows in my chest as Sledge continues to stare at me with the same angry eyes. His jaw tight, posture ridgid. I slip back on a smile. 

“No, I just didn’t hear him behind me.” I lie. “Hi, my name is Hazel.” I say extending my hand to Sledge. He glances down at my hand and then back up to me. 

“I heard.” He says shortly, not taking my extended hand. I clear my throat dropping my arm back to my side. I give a sheepish grin as my stomach knots. I need to find an excuse to leave. This Sledge guy doesn’t seem to like me very much. If looks could kill, I would've been dead yesterday and today. I gulp, finding it hard to tear my eyes away from him. My eyes scan over his face taking him in. His soft white skin now marred with dirt and cuts, his angled jaw set with anger, his brows knitted together as he stares back at me. I wonder what he sees? I don’t have any makeup on, my thick brown hair is pulled back off my face into a neat bun as the nurses cap I wear is pinned to my head. My white uniform stands out against their dirty pants and topless torsos. I break eye contact first, turning to speak to Snafu who still stands behind me. 

“I have to go, but if you need anything you can always go to the medical tent.” I smile making my way for the exit. 

“Why would I go to the medical tent, when I know you Hazel.” He gives me a cheeky smile, as I give him a laugh, “I’ll come find you.” He winks at me. I turn to leave my eyes catching Sledge’s again, he still stares at me with caution.

#the pacific #my oc #sledge x oc #snafu shelton #HBO war #hbo #eugene sledge #the pacific fanfic