#she should be resting and taking care of her body and like growing her damn tomatoes that infuriate me not working like this 😔

[satorudoll]

☆ HE'S MINE ALL MINE —

#part 2!

: ̗̀➛┊! please read pt.1 before starting this, or it will seem like a block of nonsense !┊

☆ nerd + secret boyfriend!gojo x popular!fem reader

content: MDNI! explicit content, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, cunnilingus

word count : 7.5k

You stare at your reflection in the dressing table mirror, messed mascara that had run down and dried on your once pink cheeks, your eyes blank and shoulders slumped as you sat still on your vanity table as deftones continued to beat through your speaker,

but your ears were too numb to comprehend any passing sound right now.

"Are you seriously planning to not move from there!" Your elder sister barges into your room with annoyance, finding you sitting in your lacy tank top and grey shorts, face a mess, and your hair looking like you needed a seriously long shower.

"oh god you haven't done shit from the past two days- And- What on earth have you done to your room?!" She look arounds the small room made of pastel pink walls that had light scent of peony lingering over them, random black and white posters of artists and bands glued on those walls and your mess of a bed in middle of it all that had all your plushies and comic books lying around, leaving barely any space for a human body to rest, the lace curtains pulled over to block any ray of sunlight that could ruin your mood any further.

Your sister yelps while trying to make her way towards you as she almost trips over an empty can of coke that your forgot to dispose.

She manages to make it to you and stands besides your sitting figure before resting her hands on her hips and staring at you through your reflection as well.

"are you taking drugs?" she murmured.

"No!" that causes you to immediately snap your head towards her with big eyes.

She cocks a brow at you,

"Geez chill, clean you damn room up and come down to eat!"

She turns away and starts making her way back, pausing and picking up the pile of your bras from the floor, shaking her head and throwing them up your already messy bed before leaving your room.

"fuck.." you whine as you scratch your head and finally standing up from there, but you just end up pulling your phone from the nightstand and jumping to lay on your bed not caring about the kuromi plushies that were being squished under your weight.

Your mind takes you back to the evening from two days ago.

You walked up to Gojo and Utahime, interrupting whatever convo they were having.

You quietly walk up to them and Gojo notices you first while Utahime was telling him something,

Utahime turns her head noticing your presence,

then she turns to look back up at Gojo,

She raises a brow looking between you both

"Y/n? something wrong?" She asks,

She didn't think you were here for Gojo, She knew who you were though, the whole school knew the party animal ofc. But she had no idea you would have anything to do with the class nerd.

You quietly stare back at her,

what are you supposed to say? Should you just say you were here for your boyfriend? But what if Gojo gets annoyed because he was meaning to end it with you?

As hundreds of answers ran through your head and your mind was trying to choose the best answer, Satoru spoke up instead.

"She needs to borrow some of my extra notes. Exams are coming so its going to be necessary." Satoru speaks up, Utahime makes a face and looks at you,

"Ask me next time instead, I make better notes than him," She assured you causing Satoru to knit his brows at her

"Leave already" He says making her shrug and walk away.

She walks past you, leaving the both of you alone in the silent halls as the sounds of her footsteps fades farther away and the palms of your hand grow clammy again.

"You alright?"

Your head snaps up when Satoru's calm voice reaches your eardrums. The voice that has grown so much on you.

You turn towards him and fold your arms, looking down at your pumps as you mutter,

"where were you? you missed the class.."

He notices you looking agitated and responds in an assuring tone,

"I was assigned some work so it too way longer than i thought. Its fine there wasnt any issue"

Something about that annoys you,

maybe because you spent the entire 45 minutes fighting your the anxiety in your head, thinking that he was gonna break it off with you.

"Well you need the notes, i-" You shove your hand in your bag to pull out the notes you wrote, but he speaks up,

"Oh, don't worry about that. Utahime showed me the ones she wrote, i took the pics."

That makes you come to a full stop, as your brows knit together,

Your face snaps up at him,

He was staring back at you looking confused after noting the annoyed expression you had on.

"Don't worry i'll send them to you too along with the previous-"

You cut him off with a loud,

"Oh fuck this! i don't need any notes, fuck this shit!" You turn on your heels and stormed off.

This time Satoru definitely got the hint that something was wrong.

"Y/n!" He calls out for you with a growing frown and an even deeper growing confused expression on his face as he starts walking fast to catch up with you,

He didn't have any problem catching up with you thanks to his long legs.

He grabs you by the arms from behind and forces you to stop.

You tried pushing him, so he ended up pushing you instead against the wall, caging you between his arms

"Ugh, let me go!" You yelp, you wanted to bite your tongue down, you were feeling like your emotions were all over the place and you wanted to run away as far as possible before you mutter something wrong in this state that you might regret later.

"Calm down." Satoru gently voices while you try to wiggle out of his arms looking like a restless mad child.

"Y/n, calm down." He says again but in a much harsher tone causing you to finally stop at this point.

But you still didn't wanna look up at him.

He doesn't forces you to look up either, instead,

"Tell me, what's wrong?" he softly asks making you wanna further beat yourself for being the dramatic person that you are.

"I wanna go home." was your answer.

He blinks a couple of times,

"are you not well?" He asks, earning a shake of your head.

He finally sighs,

"Do you not feel comfortable telling me? We can go to the pharmacy and get you something if you aren't well right now. You should get something before it gets worst."

Your eyes get glossy by every passing second of you staring at the floor,

maybe it was a small thing, maybe whatever Satoru does for you is no big deal to some, maybe it is the bare minimum.

But you were someone who have never been lucky enough to get even that. So maybe that's why whatever Satoru did for you felt like a big deal.

And once again your head was filled with the big question mark of,

'What am i gonna do if he leaves me?'

Before Satoru could pull you out of your thoughts you finally shove his chest,

"I'm annoyed!" You were finally staring right at him,

His puzzled look was trying so hard to study you,

"Then tell me what's annoying you Y/N!" He finally was growing annoyed but still trying to keep his composure for you.

"You barely look at me when we are at school! You don't even try to lift your head from those damn books of yours to turn around and look at me! I feel like a fucking wall! I can chatter like a parrot all day as we sit and I barely manage to get a word or two out from you! It doesn't feel good Satoru!" You rant, a tear finally slipping out of your eyes.

Satoru watches with wide eyes and knitted brow but tries to move his hand up to wipe your cheek when he sees your tear run down,

"Don't touch me right now!" You yell and push his hand away,

He sighs and looks down for a second before lifting his head back up,

"Why are you suddenly so mad.. I told you, we have plenty of time to talk outside school-"

"Why??" you cut him off, your brows knitting as you bring your face closer to him.

"Are you embarrassed of being seen with me here !?" You finally speak out.

"What?? Of cour-"

You cut him off yet again,

"Hell, we don't even talk that much outside school either.. We don't do shit aside from fuck every now and than and stroll somewhere nearby when you feel like it."

You felt like the stop button of your mouth broke for good because at this point you were letting out everything that's coming in your mind straight out of your mouth

"Am I here to blow your steam?? Couldn't you find a nicer cunt than mine therefore you agreed to my childish proposal of going out so you couldn't give a fuck more than that because I'm just a dog barking as usual and following you around !? Can you try to make some sacrifices! Just tell me you don't want me around if I'm that annoying stop walking and treating me like a dog! Stop being so high on your pedestal, you might think so but I really am not a slut throwing myself at every moving body!"

You are breathing heavily,

He is watching,

Your eyes burning and legs growing colder every passing second, head filled with screams of regrets and embarrassment. You surely didn't mean to deliver the message that way, Sure you had a lot of problems to discuss with him but conveying your message this was was not on the plan.

Your vision gets blurry as you notice how his crystal eyes were surprisingly turning a darker hue of blue. Almost as if he looked thrown away, and so..

hurt.

oh god, you hurt him.

You both didn't move for a good minute or two.

Just staring at eachothers eyes,

one pair that was glossy while the other getting gloomier.

You still couldnt make up what was actually going in his genius brain but then he breaks the eye contact, pulling his backpack up on his shoulders he turns away from you and starts walking away without a word.

The way he walked away from anyone else.

You stand there frozen, not really thinking he would just blatantly walk away. He never walked away from you. Even when you first started sitting with him and being annoying.

Your stomach churned and heart throbbed in pain, you rather him cuss you out for being such a petty brat than not even bother saying a word to you.

Praying in your head he stop and turns back to take you with him,

Your eyes stayed glue at the hallway wall as you heard his footsteps eventually just fade away.

back to the present day,

you stared at your phone screen.

Staring at Satoru's name on the contact list, which was all the way down the bottom now being supported by no new notifications, your and his chatroom was shoved down by all the other random people who texted you.

He hasn't texted you anything for two days,

You were too afraid to even press his name on the contact list.

The silence he replied to you with from two days ago before the weekends started still booming and clawing at the walls of your head.

As you kept your eyes glued on Satoru and your messages a notification pops up.

Shoko:

"haven't seen you all weekend, just checking up on you"

You tiredly reply a "im good"

your message is instantly read and answered,

Shoko:

"its been so long y/n, the whole party misses you! I wont force you to go but there is a party at Geto's tonight"

You scrunch your nose remembering the pool party Choso was mentioning to you about in the hallways.

As soon as you were about to send a 'no',

you pause.

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't desperately needed to get your mind out off all the mess.

maybe you forgot the party animal you used to be when you got with Satoru. Maybe if you feel the thrill of it all over again you would realise how wrong you were, that Satoru really wasn't as addictive as you were thinking him to be.

and so,

you ended up agreeing to Shoko, making a mental note that you were heading there to prepare yourself for any sort of confrontation that Satoru and you might have in school tomorrow.

you were shaking your feet as you stared at the clock slowly striking 8:15,

sitting on your living room sofa ready in your lacy black mini dress and pink high platform heels. Hair done and spraying the most expensive perfume you could find in your closet. Just because you didn't attend a party in weeks doesn't mean you were gonna let go all your efforts of looking good.

But you were supposed to leave like fifteen minutes ago.

so why weren't you able to move?

Is it because its been so long?

"you haven't left yet?" your head turns to look at the raven haired woman in her pj shorts and random oversized shirt who was striding around the kitchen looking for something.

You shake your head noticing the notification from Shoko who was asking if you were going to be late.

"Is something going on?" You hear your sister's voice who stopped doing whatever she was doing and was standing next to you now.

"no.. im just.. second guessing"

you shrug

she furrows her brows, "you are really changing, that's a new. I haven't seen you be this way since ever."

you let her words sink in, and mutter,

"is that bad..?"

She nonchalantly shakes her head,

"i dont think so, you are about to go out and actually live a life in just few months anyways. you wont be in school anymore, me and mom wont be here 24/7 for you. i think its really good, like cmon, ive never seen you working on a fucking school assignment till 4am until a week ago. That's the time when you are out partying ignoring my calls of worries."

You remember the day she was talking about, your assignment was due that very day and Satoru didn't mind when you called him at 10 pm and he had to stay up all night that day to help you complete the assignment. You remember how tired his eyes looked the very next day, but he never complained. He said nothing even if it was your fault for keeping the work until last second.

You even got an A for that assignment, you've never gotten an A.

You were so excitedly tapping your foot on the floor that day when you received the grades, and it took everything in you to not hug Satoru in front of everyone right than and there. Satoru noticed that and let a small smile unconsciously slip past his lips as he continued taking his notes.

You remember screeching when the school got over and jumping on your boyfriend in the empty classroom,

and he held you without a word, he just smiled as he held you and you talked on and on about how happy you were.

and he just listened.

Your heart dully throbbing in pain when you recall the memories now,

You weren't mad at Satoru because he was a bad person,

but because being with him made you feel like a bad person.

You didn't want to accept that you might not deserve him and that somebody way better than you was out there for him.

You felt like it was better for you to just break up at this point than being together and hurting him from such a close distance.

"is it because of that boyfriend of yours?" your sister finally decides to bring it up

That causes your head to snap at her with big eyes

"what do you mean?"

"You didn't think nobody was going to notice that a random dude whose odd hair you can spot from miles away was dropping you everyday, did you?" she points,

"you are so stereotypical, cant normal friends walk eachother home??" you try to cover your secret anyway as you could,

"you both were literally making out for 10 minutes outside the entrance." She immidiately counter attacks on you.

That makes you shut up instantly.

"i never saw a guy drop you home, otherwise i wouldn't have even brought it up"

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. Your sister notices that and laughs,

"never thought you would be beating yourself over a nerdy guy like that out of all the guys I've seen you with."

you admit, "I didn't either."

"maybe that's good, you just have to try something different if the old ones don't work out. You have to step out from your comfort zone to find the things meant for you."

you wish it was that easy for you both who were in the opposite sides of the poles from each other to actually work out.

She walks away back to the kitchen but not before saying,

"and don't even think of staying back tonight, I'm kicking you out, my boyfriend will be here any minute and we agreed to let me have the house to myself."

and that's how you found yourself standing in front of another one of those big villas, you can hear the booming music and screams from where you stood.

Heaving a big sigh of frustration you twist and crack your hands and neck ready to not go back home anytime soon.

Trying to hold your big smile up you storm into the party, letting your hair flow through the cold winds of the night, not minding that you were wearing a sleeveless dress right now since you'd be covered in sweat from being in the middle of the roaring crowd in no time anyways.

You turn your head around every now and than to greet and wave back to the people who noticed and called for you,

some random people who you don't even remember running up to you and wrapping their arms around your shoulders.

The past you wouldn't have minded it and would've went along with the flow, but you wanted to shove the people aside right now.

However you refrain yourself from doing so, you didn't want to be a "bummer" like those people whom you used to refer to as 'party poppers' in the past.

You laugh along, acting fine and letting those people chattering around you guide you inside the house.

The surroundings around you slowly fades away to darkness, people's presence being illuminated by the several bright colors of spotlight that maniacally ran across the room. Your heartbeat growing louder from how hard the music was was beating through the air.

The huge villa was covered in tall white walls and windows, pine trees scattered around the big garden where you could see the big pool filled with floats of every shape glowing. You swore you saw a float shaped like a dick.

"Y/nnn, thank gawdd!" You see Shoko approach you in her bright red mini leather dress and high knee boots

"I thought you were gonna ditch me againnn" she whines, her eyes in the brink of shutting, You could smell the strong scent of alcohol everytime she tried muttering another word to you. You just arrived here and she was already out of it.

You decided that you were gonna let yourself loose and have so much fun tonight as well.

You weren't having an ounce of fun, the only thing you laughed at ever since you came here was when Shoko told you that she was so out of it that she thought Geto was her pet Doberman and tried kissing him as he started screaming and tried shaking her awake but she ended up throwing up all over him so he had left to change,

so now here she was, with you, trying to make you seem like a busy person in the party.

You were turning down anybody who came up to you and tried dragging you onto the dance floor, instead of loosing yourself tonight the music irritated your veins.

Shoko continued to slur some more of her 'fun' encounters that she had in the party during your absence while you nodded and your eyes continued lingering around the other moving bodies.

But your eyes suddenly halted its movements when you noticed the soothing color of night snow in midst of the crowd.

Your eyes got bigger,

the tall figure had his back faced, talking to some other people that you couldn't make out who due to how dark that side of the room was.

There was no way he was here.

How the fuck would he be here, he literally turned down all the parties you invited him to up until now and you always ended up ditching them along with him.

Why the hell would he suddenly be in one.

You were forcing yourself to look away when you noticed that the figure was about to turn around,

but its like someone had locked your gaze towards that direction, you weren't able to look away.

He turns around completely,

and your eyes caught his,

suddenly the loud booming of the music became dull in your ears and your vision became a bit more clearer, because you have no idea if you were biased, but he was standing out amongst the whole sea of people who filled this big space.

It was prolly the snowy white locks of his hair,

or his crystal blue eyes,

or the fact that he wasn't dressed anything like the Satoru you've been seeing this whole time.

Your boyfriend who was standing and staring back at you from the other end of the room wore a pair of loose black jeans, matched with a big leather jacket (you couldn't make out if the jacket was big or his frame was actually that buff, you would have no problem believing the later one), both the black fits contrasted by the oversized white jacket he wore underneath, and a small silver chain trailed around his neck.

He looked nothing like the nerd you saw everyday in school, or the guy in random sweats outside school, he looked more like the guy he showed you when you both were alone.

his white hair a bit parted and his glasses missing.

Any other day you would have stormed up to him to hide him because it felt illegal for him to be standing out in front of the whole world looking that fucking good.

But tonight your brows twitched, you grew annoyed at how you couldn't even walk up to him because what if he walked away from you like the other day, but this time in front of the whole crowd?? you were so fucking sure people will start chattering and you will be nothing but a an awkward figure of embarrassment.

You couldn't read his eyes, you never could.

That was just another reason that annoyed you,

what you did notice though was that he looked surprised to see you here, but definitely not as much as you were to see him.

You just forced your gaze to rip away from him and turn to face Shoko who was laughing at god knows what, she didn't even notice that you were focused on something other than her adventurous encounters. But you rather hear those than go near Satoru right now.

You grew way more awkward than when you came here since you knew now Satoru was here as well, you tried so hard to focus on Shoko's words but your heart wasn't letting you focus on any other presence in the room. It felt like you and Satoru were the only ones alone in this big room, no matter how loud it got.

You curse before turning your head to look at your side and quickly grabbing the cup of beer that was lying there since forever.

You chugged it down feeling the burning liquid prickle your throat but it was nothing compared to how much your chest was burning, tossing away the now empty cup you grab Shoko by the hand, and drag her away with you to leave the room because you doubt you will be able to otherwise focus on anything else other than the lingering gaze that was looming over you from across the room.

You took her all the way to the garden trying to not trip, you regretted wearing such high platform heels, they were way taller than what you would usually wear, but you just really didn't want them to be collecting dust. You gave up and wore them at the end with the mindset that if your ankles broke tonight then it was karma coming at you for being such an ass to your boyfriend, all the logical thinking had left your body in the last two days.

"What if i throw uph in the poolll" Shoko slurs as you shove her to lay down on the lawn chairs while you make your way to the pool,

"You aren't going to the pool, I am. And what you need, is sleep." You start unzipping your dress, stripping into your baby pink bikini.

You felt stares fall upon your figure but you didn't care since you weren't the only ones in so less clothing, literally half of the crowd here were in the verge of being fully naked.

Shoko whined but she shut up as soon as she started because her eyes gave out on her and now she had left to the wild dreamlands of her fever dreams.

you slowly stepped down the pool starring down at how it made your body glow.

You slowly swam around, at one point wondering if you should just drown here.

Shaking the thought away not wanting a whole case on Geto's hand you rose back up.

Taking a deep breathe as your pushed the wet locks of your hair back you didn't notice a figure approach you from the back.

You flinch and immediately turn to shove the person who suddenly wrapped their arms around your bare waist.

It was your last ex, of course.

The one who cheated on you, but you really didn't felt like crying that day because your short lived romance was anyways in the brink of fading into dust. But that didn't make him seem like a less of a jerk to you though.

You spent your good 10 minutes cussing him out and outing most of his dirty laundry in middle of the whole crowd of people watching your breakup unfold, just because you wanted to pull something funny and felt like he deserved it.

"I haven't seen you around in weeks" He speaks casually, leaning back against the half wall and slowly turning his gaze looking around for something interesting.

"you still stink, Naoya." You blatantly reply, shoving his hand away from your waist and folding your arms to leans your back on the half wall as well.

"glad to know your foul mouth is still healthy as ever" he laughs.

"shut up whore." you pass him a disgusted look, "what are you even doing here? no bitches willing to hold your dick?"

he sighs,

"saw none better than you here."

That makes you roll your eyes hard,

"I'm the dumbfck here trying to talk you here, bye" you try getting out of the pool but he immediately pulls you back by waist,

"you fuc-"

he cuts you off pulling you closer to him, your boobs pressed against his chest as his face is so fucking close to yours.

"you play so fucking hard doll, you've always been that way. why? is it fun to watch me yearn and long for you?" he whispers making your knit your brows farther wondering if he was drunk too.

"i bet you haven't found a dick big enough yet that can fit in every corner of your-"

you punch his nose,

nobody notices though since the party was that loud except two or three people who were closer to you, passing by the pool but they didn't seem to care, knowing that was just you being you,

"OW! the fuck!?" he immediately yelps shoving you away,

"you fucking bet i did whore, and if you want ill find some for you to ride as well!" You harshly splash the water at his face when he was just about to retract his palms back from his face earning another yelp from him.

You push yourself up from the pool, head feeling hotter than ever as you storm away to get your dress. you didn't even bother drying yourself, you just put your thin dress back on not giving a fuck about the way you just made the dry fabric completely drenched in a second as soon as it came in contact with the wet one.

You look down to take Shoko with you, but pause looking at her peacefully snoring state,

Shaking your head you walk back into the villa by yourself, unbothered about the trail of water you were leaving behind, but most of the people around you were doing the same. You feel horrible for whoever was cleaning this place up later.

As you mindlessly walked around pushing past people you felt your nose starting to burn, eyes becoming glossier.

You felt like a fucking mess.

So you pause, you don't take any steps further,

even if you were about to burst into tears right this instant here, nobody in this room would notice you.

Just as you were about to let a sob slip you feel someone trace your arm,

Your head snaps back to look at the tall brunette guy,

his doe eyes looks at you as he held a sweet smile on his face,

he didn't seem like a bad person, i mean you wouldn't know,

but he just gave off a good person vibe,

he looked drunk as well though.

But he didn't try groping you.

So you just stared at him, he was so out of it but he was waiting for you to join him and dance.

And you let every weight on your mind and shoulder fall down.

you were so tired.

You turn around fully to face him.

stepping closer to him he takes the hint and lets his hand fall down your hip, feeling the wet fabric under his palms he drunkenly blurts

"..is it raining here?" he questions innocently craning his head up to look at the ceiling.

That makes you laugh.

This one heartier than when you laughed at Shoko's story.

You keep your hands on his shoulders planning to start dancing,

but suddenly someone pulls one of your hand away from his shoulder.

Your nostrils filled with the familiar minty scent, you froze.

not wanting to look up, although the brunette guy was already staring at the person next to you both with a clueless expression.

"..am-am i interrupting something?" the brunette guy hiccups like a dumbhead when it was the other way around.

You couldn't even open your mouth, your lips suddenly felt so heavy and you still weren't turning your head to look at your side.

Your left hand still in his big warm ones.

"Y/n.." Satoru finally lets out in his low toned voice.

You didn't know if it was his presence or the insanely wet fabric on your skin that was making you slowly feel feverish

"Y/n.. please.. look at me.." He softly pleads,

something in his tone this time breaks your heart, crumbling ever so slowly you finally look up at him.

Satoru wasn't going to force you to go with him,

he wasn't going to force you to come with him if you didn't want to.

He instead kept all his faith on you, for you to choose him.

You stared at his face that looked a bit tired, his brows arched down as his eyes looked dull blue tonight, just like the other day.

Satoru looked sad,

You couldn't push him any further, it was painful,

you let go your other hand that was resting on the brunette's shoulder and he looked like he was conscious enough to let your hips go as well.

Satoru didn't seem to care how sweaty your hand was as he held them tight and turned around as soon as you let the brunette go like he was praying you chose him and didn't turn his time, taking long strides in his black converse he walks away, taking you with him,

he was holding tightly onto your hand, like you would leave as soon as he let it a bit loose, nobody noticed your small frame walking behind his big one that covered you up entirely.

You felt small once again.

You didn't notice that all the loud voices suddenly grew quite,

You hear the sound of door shut, and finally look around finding yourself in a big bedroom,

The room was spacious and interior clean, wood paneled walls decorated the four sides, only two long golden lights hanging from the ceiling leaving the room to look a bit dim, tall windows hidden behind the long beige curtains that were drawn over them, and a big canopy bed in middle of the bedroom.

Your head noted that it must be one of the spare rooms in here.

You felt a bit better as the light scent of vanilla and cashmere started to linger around you instead of all the sweat and mixed perfume of everyone in the crowd.

What you didn't like was however the silence that was eating you up now.

Satoru was still holding onto your hand.

You look up at him this time, and he turns his body towards you as well, not letting your hand go,

He notices you drenched from head to toe,

he didn't notice it before since it was way too dark in the room and he was too busy rushing to get you two out of there.

"Did someone push you in the pool??" He questions, worry laced in his tone,

you shake your head

"no, i was taking a swim.."

That makes his eyebrows knit further,

he sighs and pulls you to the bed,

making you sit down he finally lets go off your hand, walking away into the bathroom he comes back in seconds with a towel in his hand.

Satoru walks back up to you and gets on his knees in front of you, he wraps the towel over your head and starts rubbing the soft fabric against the locks of your wet hair.

you quietly look down at your lap, playing with your fingers.

He gently starts to dry you face and neck,

"Wait my makeup-"

"you can worry about that later" he heaves.

the more he dried your skin the more wet your eyes grew,

you felt your bottom lips quiver and you finally let out a weak,

"why are you going out with me?"

Satoru stops drying your skin and his gaze moves up to your face,

"you've grown on me y/n.." he says in a gentle tone as his hand moves up to caress your warm cheek.

"don't you wanna be with me anymore?" he questions,

patiently waiting for you to answer,

"i-" you start tearing up

"i wanna be with you so much, i wanna be by your side all time, I don't mind if I look like a dog running behind you, but you feel too good for me" you sob and he doesn't interrupt you, instead he continues to caress your cheek with his thumb, listening to your every word,

"I feel like if you actually decide to step out into the world you will notice people who are way better than me," you hiccup embarrassed at all the things you were confessing but he just quietly wipes your tears.

"you can do so much more than me- and a year ago I would have never guessed that ill be running my mouth like a parrot right now sobbing for you but who am I to know! I'm just an idiot who doesn't even have control over herself, I'm just insecure and scared that the world will realize how nice of guy you are, how kind your heart is and then they'll try to take you away, I even wrote down notes for you that day when you missed the class, and it is the most detailed notes I have ever made but its still no- "

"you made notes for me??" he finally cuts you off,

his curious eyes staring at you as you stop flinging your arms around from all the explanation and let out a small

"yes.."

He watches you finally go quite and he proceeds to cup your face, caressing your warm face as your nervous heart starts to slowly melt away when you see him softly smiling back at you.

"why would I have to go around caring to look for someone better if you are becoming better for me baby?"

that makes you slowly tear up again, you swore another thing Satoru has turned you into is a little crybaby.

This man just had that grip over you.

He engulfs you in his warm arms as you say

"sorry.. I really didn't mean any words that I said that day.. you looked so hurt.. I couldn't bring myself to face you.." you cry and his warm hug grows tighter as he rubs your head to calm you down,

"I'm sorry too.. shouldn't have left you there and walked away either" he says.

"i love you" you slip out,

that makes him pause,

he pulls his head back and looks at your eyes,

and questions,

"what?"

Your cheeks grow warm as you mumble,

"ugh I'm not saying it again, you heard me !"

you burry your head in his neck embarrassed.

"I didn't even hear you because of all the snot in your nose!" he defends.

"shut up, liar!" you smack his chest.

he heartily laughs before slowly smashing his lips against yours,

you immediately welcome him in your warm arms,

the rough texture of his lips softly crushing against your delicate ones.

his wet tongue slowly grazing against your warm ones,

Satoru swiftly pushes you up the soft bed and breaks the kiss, trailing his tongue down your chin, licking all the way to the side of your neck, slowly sinking his teeth into your warm skin making your moan and wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer,

running one of his hand down to your thigh, he gropes it before running them back all way up,

going further and further up under the wet fabric that was clinging onto your warm skin,

he pulls his face away slamming his lips on yours again after leaving a soft imprint of blur and purple on your neck, giving you a hard long peck before pulling away and taking his leather jacket off, pulling his white shirt over his head that causes his white locks to tousle before falling back to cover parts of his hooded eyes,

he grins down at you and whispers

"Why don't you start marking me up? so that whoever tries to take me away from you will know they can never be better than you?"

Your cheeks grow warm at that as he takes your hands and makes them rest on his firm chest

"c'mon baby, I want you to mark every inch of my skin.. wont you?" He smiles as you nod your head and trail your fingers over his soft pale skin,

But growing impatient he take a lock of your hair in his hand and shoves your face against his skin,

and you obediently lap it, before widening your mouth and sinking your teeth into his skin starting to suck on it

"suck it harder baby, take a mouthful of that skin" how else will they know I'm yours otherwise?"

You eagerly do as he tells you to, sucking a mouthful of his skin, leaving bitten bruises of blue and purple splattered across his pale chest as he watches your with a proud expression,

finally getting enough of it he flips your body, pushing the front of your body against the soft sheets he looks down at your figure with his hooded eyes,

releasing soft breathy pants through his parted lips as he pulls your thighs up so your back arches and your big plump ass was in his clear view,

he looked drunk,

but he swore he didn't have even an ounce of liquid ever since he entered the villa.

well of course you had to make up for how thirsty he was though,

He knit his brows, he felt hornier than usual he had to admit,

was two days of not having his face buried between your boobs and having you whining against his lap when you both were alone making him this desperate?

He could feel his thick cock grow painfully angry every second inside his boxers. The tight waist of his jeans bringing not even a little comfort.

"toru.." you whine, pushing your ass further back, bringing it closer to his face,

he grunts,

"yes baby.." he starts to quickly unbutton and pull the zip of his pants down. Shoving his hand in his boxers as he stares at the thin wet fabric of your bikini cover your ass,

he pulls his dick out, sighing as soon as some feeling of relief washes through his veins.

And quickly he pushes your thighs together, pulling down the bottoms of your bikini revealing your wet ass cheeks that had slick run down from your gaping and pulsing cunt.

He pushes his face in your ass, kissing and making out with your drooling hole before he plunges his tongue in, caressing the gummy walls of your insides as your cry loud and feel literal tremors run down your hips from the way he was easing the bundle of your nerves, pushing his hand up to messily rub and pinch your clit, holding the hard shell of your core in his palm as he massages it. Eyes sealed from feeling pure bliss, his nose buried against your puffy cheeks intoxicated by the strong smell of your inside,

his burning cock so fucking hard as it pulsated and released precum every passing second, he wanted you to stop him and grab his cock, for you to tell him to shut the fuck up and take his cock in your hand and shove it in your tight cunt.

But at the same time he wanted you to stay patient and let his hungry self eat,

No alcohol induced body in the room could compare to how pussydrunk your boyfriend was right now.

"Toru- Fuck! need your cock! please.." you whine trying to pull your ass away which was so tightly in the hold of his big palms,

He sucks hard, feeling the warm liquid of your insides gush down his tongue everytime he tried moving it deeper in your depths.

You felt your walls painfully tighten as you tried pushing him away but he just slaps your hand and buries his face harder,

"you love me baby?" he grunts as he slowly lets go your thighs finally and takes his hot sticky length in his palm

"love you toru.. so much" you mewl,

you get pushed up as he plunges his heavy girthy length into your warmth, immediately burying his face in your neck and hugging you tight from behind as he lets out a soft cry,

You could tell he was extra sensitive than usual today, you loved it so much,

you would like to believe it was the extra effect of you finally showing to him that your love for him was so important to you and how much you appreciated the way he took care of you,

His lips brushes up against the shell of your ear, biting it as you feel him grow thicker inside you, he held you so close, feeling his face grow warmer feeling the sensation of the way you both were connected down there. The skin of your bare asscheeks feeling the prickly trail of his snowy white hair down there

"I love you y/n" he cries as you feel his girth throb hard, your walls instantly clenching around him earning another moan from his throat.

you feel your cheeks grow warmer and the corner of your eyes start getting wet,

he brings his lips even closer to your ears and licks the lobe of your ear, trailing his right hand up and pulling your hands which was gripping the sheets so that he can intertwine his fingers with yours,

you cry as his other free hand goes down between your legs and roughly runs his fingers over your clit and through your folds.

Tears escape your eyes and Satoru kisses them clean,

"I love you baby, love you so much.. i-i only want you with me baby.. lets just love eachother.. hm?" he whispers, cradling you in his arms as he presses another kiss on your cheek, moving his head down and sucking the skin of your neck which was layered in thin sheet of sweat as he thrusts his hips hard, you both cry into eachothers warmth as you feel him start to penetrate your throbbing cunt balls deep, giving you strong yet long slow thrusts.

"love you toruu.." you moan and he kisses your lips, holding you so close to him,

"love you my baby... love you so much"

"ok soo.. i know i said they are the most detailed notes that I've ever made but I'm pretty sure I missed a couple of lines because I was too worried and zoning out every now and than thinking where you were yk."

He stares at you, raising a brow the more you spoke,

"so like we might still need the ones Utahime gave you." You smile at him innocently, tucking your chin on your hands, which were resting over his bare broad chest.

before he could respond the door flies open making you yelp and Satoru quickly wraps his arms around your frame to cover you up although thankfully you had already pulled the duvets up to your chest.

You and Satoru stare at the doorframe mortified,

another pair of mortified expressions looking back at you both,

Geto and Choso stood there with his jaw slacked open.

"The hell, did you not lock the door!?" you suddenly questioned Satoru who looks at you equally shocked.

"i did! You know I'm not that careless!"

before you could reply Geto spoke up

"Uh- I used my spare keys."

You and Satoru rolled eyes at that.

Choso screams "You are sleeping with that nerd!? You don't even answer my texts!"

its been a few weeks since,

You found out you weren't the only popular kid close to Satoru, Geto and him were close too.

You had no idea how you managed to never know an info like that, when asked he said he didn't think of it as a necessary information.

and turns out Utahime and Gojo really weren't on that good terms,

Utahime was whispering string of unimaginable profanities at him that day while Satoru was mockingly laughing at her and pissing her off even further.

You really are bad at reading situations guess.

nothing much has really changed since,

except, after Choso and Geto promised you both to keep your secret safe somehow ever so mysteriously the rumors of you and Satoru dating started to spread.

And it got confirmed when you just decided to stand up from your seat during lunch one day and sit down on your boyfriend's thick thighs like it was your birthright, you couldn't help it. They looked so thick and seatable.

The entire class stopped doing whatever they were doing and the room erupted in buzzing murmurs,

Satoru paused chewing on his food, surprised at your sudden move,

but he didn't push you off or anything.

Instead he proceeded to wrap his arm around your waist to keep you steady and peck our cheek before calmly picking up his chopsticks back again and continuing to eat.

That made you dramatically squeal and kick your feet as you watched the shell of his ear turn a very light shade of pink.

What a cute nerdy boyfriend you've got yourself who treats you like his literal princess <3

☆ — REBLOGS ARE APPRECITED !

(my hand hurts)

taglist: @ritsatoru @waka-babe

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #jjk #bookmark #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fic #nerd gojo #fluff #𝓵𝓸𝓿3𝓻𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱

[azrielhours]

Company of Phantoms

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2k

Synopsis: Azriel has a crush that's overtaking his life. He's so obsessed with her that he starts hallucinating her lol.

A/N: inspired partly by The Haunting of Hill House and this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel sat and watched, thanked the Mother for all his training for the privilege it allowed him to take her in. Hell—if all the knowledge he possessed peaked and surrendered to this, the holy act of observing her, if this was all it was good for, Azriel would be content. He even felt lighter about the horrors of his past, felt an absolved ease knowing it all would end with this act of penitence. An arm’s-length indulgence.   

With her.

But she was starlight, an ectoplasmic celestial body that glowed. She smiled so big and bright it made his breath catch. He’d have to look away sometimes to relieve the ache she carved into his chest.  

If she shone any less, it would be an act of mercy.

But Azriel had always veered on the side of masochism.

He was afraid his darkness would make her wink out. Didn’t want to be the cause of her dimming. Would never dream of contaminating that joy. Even when she’d smile at him, even when he’d struggle to return it, left instead with the sight of hers faltering at his coldness.

He could stand the shame sluicing through his chest cavity, take the sting of hurt all for the assurance he’d insist to himself—that this was the noble thing.

Everyone adored her, and it was what she deserved. The foul-mouthed temptress she was, making males redden at the dirty jokes she told, laughing bright and beautiful. The empathy she dealt like medicine that drew friends to her like a siren luring sailors. Secret keeper. Rhys doted on her, bought her jewelry to watch her face light up. Azriel never missed how his brother’s face would crinkle with adoration, with the ease of loving her when she opened his stream of gifts.

She was easy to love.

It was like she was slotted just right to each person.

He often wondered how she would mould to him should he ever open up, to return her generous smiles that had begun growing seldom.

She was soft with Feyre, creative and adventurous. Often found up to various artistic schemes no one else understood, discussing motifs and strokes, tragedy and yearning. Gone for hours to emerge with bright eyes and paint smears.

She cried to Cassian, and it was an effort to reign in Azriel’s envy, to listen to the drowning voice of reason telling him to be glad she was being comforted rather than to rage at his thieving brother as he’d stroke away her tears with gentler hands than those dealt to him in his life. She’d lie next to Nesta on her heavier days. Read to her, talk about foreshadowing and hope that made Nesta’s eyes light up.

It was always light brought to others. Her contagious aura.

And damn him, it was like his youth all over again, watching his brothers care for Mor, watching how she fit seamlessly.

How she chose Cassian. Never him. How she cried to Rhys, never him.

It seemed Azriel would always be haunted by the ghosts of his past.

And damn him for still possessing that otherness that punctured holes in his chest then, the same holes now that made it impossible to heave in a full breath, to sleep soundly. An undead soldier. It’d been weeks of this incessant torment. His heart would palpitate til his body perceived a threat. No sleep in the night—thoughts of her haunted him, taunting—so he’d pace like a lingering spirit.

He could see her always.

In the dark quiet of the house, there’d be a flash of silk around corners. Someone tossing hair over a shoulder. The echo of a laugh in another hallway. He’d creep to it, try to spy it out only to be met with empty corners.

Yet there in his peripherals, at the ends of hallways in the dark—

Again and again—glimpses.

His ghost.

His bed had become a grave, no peace found in it to rest. No food for the dead, only scraps—libations offered into the fire that was his belly. In the fleeting moments of rest, oftentimes in armchairs in all the wrong rooms, he’d meet her. She glowed even there, that phantom halo that marked a ghost. A beacon of light to his shadowy storm. She’d hold his hands and love him. And when he’d fade back to consciousness, in the early morning hours, if he sat still long enough, he knew he would hear her murmurs echoing down the halls.

Azriel wanted with all his might, wanted like it was his purpose.

Wanted like it could possibly mean something. Do something.

Wanting was all Azriel knew.

Beneath his shadows, beneath the contained lethal capacity of his body, any semblance of sanity, beneath ancient bone and immortal rot, he wondered if his soul was made purely of desire.

It made sense then, he supposed, that if he was wanting at his basest self, he would dream about nothing more than to have the unattainable. A ghost.

A wish.

It was impossible to eat. Sleeplessness stole his appetite. He consumed coffee in the morning and drank on an empty stomach in the evening. Nesta saw—she knew, pressing fruit and bread in his hand sometimes, but mostly she was quiet, which Azriel thanked her for in equal silence.

Tell her, Az, she whispered once. He’d shaken his head, and that was that.

Sometimes when everyone was home, he could pretend like it didn’t exist, the pull to her. He’d try to relax in his flesh and participate in having a family, but then she’d walk into the room, having just come home from somewhere Azriel knew every detail about.

The effort to not stare, to not care nor assess, to calm his heart, his mind—the shift out of the state of pretended calmness to an even worse pretence of calmness—the stream of thoughts that would pummel his brain would jolt so violently, the wanting was so violent that Feyre would flinch.

He couldn’t stand it—the lying. He knew everyone was doing it. Pretending they didn’t see what haunted him. At the first damned prod of a dark talon at his mind, Azriel stood, leaving. Ignoring how she peered at him with a pinch between her brows, stepping out of the path.

Azriel exhaled, watched his breath curl in the cool night air. Closed his eyes in exasperation as he heard footsteps approaching on the balcony. Whatever wise words Rhys may attempt to offer could be shoved up—

“Azriel,” Feyre spoke gently.

He turned, taking in his High Lady. “Feyre, I don’t really—”

“Az,” she cut him off, “I—don’t mean to pry. But you’re not—” she exhaled. “I know you haven’t been eating, and Rhys says—”

“It’s fine, Feyre,” he said softly. It was his own fault for not reigning in his thoughts. He wondered how much more he’d been broadcasting in his state, made clumsy by restlessness. If Feyre knew of the glimpses he trailed after at night—the ghost chasing.

She frowned, concern swimming in her eyes. Insomnia can cause hallucinations, she spoke gently into his mind.

Azriel scoffed. “I’m not hallucinating.”

Feyre stepped closer, caressing his elbow. “You know, if you’d just talk to her—”

“I can’t.”

She paused for a beat. “I can help put you to sleep, if you want.”

He just shook his head. Feyre accepted his boundary, leaving him to linger in his purgatory. He stayed, breathing in the cold until things quieted in the house.

Re-entering the emptied lounge, he sat, meeting wakefulness like a reluctant ally. His shadows curled at his cold ears. In her room, they informed. Saying goodnight.

Azriel listened to the sounds of his family settling in. He closed his eyes, envisioned how she might look, if she was perhaps brushing her hair, how she might look in the dim glow of a faelight. Settled and safe. Or—even better, he imagined her coming down, seeking him out. How lovely she’d look descending the stairs. If he focused hard enough, he could make out the sound—

Azriel opened his eyes, awaiting the gentle creak of wood.

His heart skipped a beat. Was she indeed coming to him?

He rose, quietly making his way to the stairs, wanting to see her descend to him.

Her steps were growing closer, and Azriel peered up the darkened stairwell—

She must’ve turned around, but Azriel caught the glow of an aura at the top, around the corner.

He made his way up, listening with all his might.

There—the rustle of silk. He sent his shadows ahead in the dark, not wanting to frighten her.

Clear, they whispered. He stalked down the hall, turning corners, walking past the low chatter behind various bedroom doors. He was nearly at the end of the hall when—

At her door, a shadow curled at his ear. Azriel frowned, if she was at her door, how could she—

A soft feminine laugh made him turn. Nothing, but he was sure—

There was that silk again, trailing around a corner.

Azriel blinked, making his way over. She was looking for him, he was certain.

More pacing around the darkened halls, trying to catch sight of that silk again.

Azriel.

He froze.

She’d called him.

A few walls over, he could recognize that voice. He whipped his head in the direction, creeping over.

Nothing.

Azriel.

There—again, he turned the other direction, blindly following.

Azriel.

He walked faster, his shadows swarming all around his body and up the walls, trying to catch his name.

Azriel.

Azriel.

“Azriel?”

He jolted, turning to the source.

Y/N stood in her doorway directly to his side, making him halt in his tracking. She took in the agitated churning of his shadows, burying him in darkness.

She was—there she was.

Azriel took a step toward her. She’d called him.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

She looked up at him wide-eyed. “Are you—alright?”

He assessed her. She—how could she be here so quickly, if he’d seen—

He looked around the hall, trying to make it make sense. He frowned, turning back to her. She was partially behind the threshold of the door, apprehension tensing her form under his scrutiny, the restlessness marking darkness beneath his eyes.

He was making her nervous.

Azriel immediately reigned in his shadows, relaxing his stance to a neutral posture rather than his previous mid-prowl stride, tucking his hands behind his back.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke gently. “I thought I…did I wake you?”

She shook her head, stepping more fully in the doorway, making Azriel relax. “No, I—your shadows were under my door, and when I came to them, I could hear…someone wandering outside.”

Azriel blinked. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She bit her lip, assessing him. “It’s alright. Why were you pacing?”

“I, uh—I couldn’t sleep.”

She nodded. “I heard Rhys tell Feyre you’ve been having trouble sleeping,” she said quietly.

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, his head dipped in confirmation.

She nodded again in thought, peering up at him again with that wonder. Azriel should’ve taken Feyre up on her offer, should’ve known better. He should apologize again and stop bothering her— “Would you, um, like to come in?”

Azriel’s breath caught.

She shifted her weight. “If—if you can’t sleep, I mean—I’m awake, and—”

“Yes,” he said.

Surprise lit up her eyes despite her offer, and she nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

Azriel’s heart was in his throat. His sleep-deprived state blurred the edges of his reserve, but he allowed himself to take the opportunity.

In her room, he took in the warm space. She closed the door behind him and came to stand beside him. She was indeed in a nightgown, hair unbound, glowing as usual. He averted his gaze when she blushed beneath his stare.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I haven’t had much rest lately.”

“That’s okay,” she said, stepping closer. “I know, I—usually I can hear you pacing at night,” she confessed. He hadn’t realized he’d been that overt. She beckoned him to walk to her bed, perching at the end of it. She smiled, gently patting the space next to her.

Azriel swallowed, making his way to her.

She looked to her bed and back at the Spymaster. “I, uh—you do look tired, Azriel.”

“Do I?” he was pleasantly surprised to find contentment in her space—in her presence. The longest he’d ever spoken to her, and it turned out to be easier than breathing.

“Mhm,” she nodded, taking him in. She raised a hand to his face, tracing the bruises beneath his eyes with gentle fingertips. “Poor thing,” she breathed, frowning. “I know how hard it can be to have insomnia.”

She lowered her hand, clasping them in her lap. She looked to the pillows again, then back to him. Azriel resisted the upward tug of his lips, seeing how long it would take her to invite him to sleep.

How careless did sleeplessness make him, indeed.

He simply nodded. “It is hard.”

“It helps if you feel someone,” she spoke softly, blushing. “I sometimes sleep with one of the girls.”

Azriel hummed in thought.

“Or—you know, we can get you a sleeping tonic.”

“We could try that.”

She suddenly averted his gaze, crossing her arms across her abdomen. In a small voice, she said, “I know you don’t—like me, Azriel, but—”

He frowned. “I do like you,” he interjected.

She paused, meeting his gaze. “You do?” The vulnerability swimming in her eyes made him shift closer to her on the bed.

“I do.” He thanked the Mother for the inhibition of his judgement.

She was silent for a beat. “But—you leave the rooms I enter,” she said in that small voice.

Azriel’s heart broke. He dared to reach a hand out, gently taking hers. “It’s—it’s because I like you,” he said lowly.

Her mouth parted in an o shape, and she squeezed his hand, a small smile overtaking her lovely face.

“You were my ghost,” he muttered.

Confusion drew her brows together. “What?”

Azriel smiled, a laziness creeping up his body that he’d missed for weeks. “I’ll explain it in the morning.”

Her brows shot up, pink tinting her cheeks. “In the morning?” Another glance to the bed.

Azriel laughed. “Unless you want to hear it now.”

She smiled, tentative and sweet, shaking her head. “The morning will do.” She rose, taking his hands in both of hers, prompting him to rise. He held her stare, let her pull him to the head of her bed. She tugged back the covers, sliding under and patting the space next to her again.

Azriel toed off his shoes, took off his outermost layers, placing his belt and various assets onto her dresser. She pulled her knees to her chest, watching intently as he offloaded in her space, basking in the belonging.

When he at last slid beneath the cover, he lay on his back next to her. She reached for his hand beneath the covers, clasping it. Without saying a word, he squeezed her hand. He felt the tension seep out of his body, felt heaviness in his eyelids that matched the one in his chest. She shuffled closer to him so they lay shoulder to shoulder. He didn’t dare move, let her settle against his arm, still only holding his hand under the covers.

As rest crept up on him for the first time in weeks, his restless thoughts were calmed by the warmth of her presence, the kindness he allowed himself to finally taste.

“You know,” she muttered in the dark. “With all your pacing, I was beginning to wonder if this place was haunted.”

Azriel huffed out a laugh. “Imagine that.”

He could hear the smile on her lips. “Guess it was just our sneaky Shadowsinger.”

Azriel shook his head, smiling. “Guess so.”

She turned, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight Azriel.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @aroseinvelaris @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfiction #azriel/reader #azriel fanfic #azrielhours #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fluff

[lxstfathier]

Hi could you please do sex pollen with bass or Alejandro Vargas or both with an inexperienced female reader please

Anon? anon who is bass?? i couldn’t figure out who you meant so, here it is, i did it with ale ;)

Flowers

Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, sex pollen, squirting, age-gap, another fic of Ale taking our virginity cuz we love that shit!

A/N: i actually loved writing this lol, it was fun. you know english is not my first language, so there might be some errors, but i hope y’all like it 💗

You don’t remember exactly what happened. The mission went wrong, and you followed colonel Vargas into the woods, trying to scape from enemy fire, accidentally running into some bushes full of strange colorful flowers that you had never seen before. Then it all went blurry.

Now, two hours later, you’re on base again, feeling really weird. Your whole body is sensitive, as if it has been set on fire, heavy breaths escape your lips and a thin layer of sweat starts to appear on your skin. How are you supposed to deal with it? you don’t even know what is going on, but you try your best to stay quiet while a nurse examines all your vital signs.

“You’re fine” she says after making sure that you don’t have anything that could possibly affect your health. “But it seems that you’re under the influence of some… natural aphrodisiac. So i’d suggest you to, y’know, relieve all that sexual energy, it will make you feel way better.”

Natural aphrodisiac? oh, so now you finally understand why your poor pussy is so wet, clenching around nothing and practically begging to be fucked. It makes sense. However, you don’t have a problem with masturbating a few times until the effects wear off. So you thank her, and then make your way out of the medical bay, walking straight to your own room.

But you didn’t expected to run into you colonel again. Those flowers should have affected him the same way as you, that’s for sure, what is he doing in the hallway? he should be inside his room, doing god knows what to help himself with that issue.

“Sargento” Alejandro calls you, forcing you to stop dead on your tracks, even though both of you are not in the mood for talking. “What did the nurse told you?”

“She said i’m fine. It’s just the effects of a natural aphrodisiac what’s making me feel so weird.” you answer, smiling at him, trying to play it cool. “Why? do you have the same?.”

“Si” he nods, but you don’t hear the rest, all of your concentration is now looking at his pretty brown eyes, his lips, his stubbly jaw, his broad shoulders, his strong arms in that tight shirt, and that obvious bulge inside his cargo pants.

He’s always been a good looking man, you won’t deny it, but right now? he’s fucking sexy, radiating a strong masculine essence that makes your knees go weak and the heat in your belly grow more intense. Almost as if you were a bitch in heat.

All of your shyness is gone, and before you know it, you’re grabbing his hand to guide him into your room, not even caring that he’s way older than you, a colonel who is supposed to be your superior. The arousal clouds your mind, not being able to think about anything else than getting pounded by him all night until you can’t remember your own name.

And Alejandro knows he shouldn’t be so eager to fuck his sergeant, but how can he tell you no when you look so pretty and so damn needy?

Once you’re both inside, with the door locked and the lights on, he pins you to the wall, kissing you passionately as his big hands roam your clothed body. Something new to you, considering the fact that you had never been touched by a man before this.

Should you tell him that he’s about to be the your first sexual experience? maybe, but you don’t wanna ruin the mood, so you just let go, feeling your tongues dancing with each other, running your hands over his strong chest.

But, as much as you’d love to keep kissing, the heat caused by the aphrodisiac is now unbearable, forcing both of you to pull apart and take your clothes off. And it could be part of the effect of those annoying flowers, but when you finally see his muscles, his tan skin covered in sweat, and that big veiny cock springing free, your mouth waters and your pussy throbs, clearly enjoying the view.

“Like what you see, mi amor?” he asks teasingly, and you just nod. “Cause i really do, who would have known my sergeant had such a pretty body? huh?”.

Now that Alejandro sees you all exposed for him, admiring every detail of your being, he’s sure that you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever met. If he had known what was he missing on, he would have pushed you into those bushes way earlier.

You don’t really know what to do next, you’re flustered and too inexperienced, so when he notices your hesitance, he gently guides you to the bed, telling you to lay on your back and relax.

Alejandro kisses your neck, and then slowly goes down to your tits, playing with your nipples between his teeth. It’s almost like a torture, you want more than that, involuntarily bucking your hips to get at least a little friction, anything.

“Just fuck me already, please” you beg in a high pitched voice, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Such a needy little whore” Alejandro says, mocking your pathetic cries. But you don’t care, even less when he drops to his knees, prying your legs apart to have a good look at your perfect pussy before devouring it like a starving man.

He licks and bites at your slick folds, savoring the sweet taste, dives his tongue into your hole and goes up to your clit, sucking hard. It feels really nice, better than any of those times where you played with yourself at night, and it’s not long until you’re moaning, feeling that familiar knot in your lower belly while tugging at his dark hair.

You cum easily, arching your back off the bed, almost crushing his head between your trembling legs. But that doesn’t stop him, he keeps eating you sloppily until you ride out that first orgasm.

When you come down from the high, Alejandro is already on top of you, holding your legs on his shoulders, guiding his cock to your tiny wet hole. And, without a warning, he slides inside on a singular hard thrust, making you scream at the new sensation.

He’s big, so the sudden stretch is a bit painful, but once you get adjusted to his girth and he starts moving slowly, your pained cries turn into whimpers filled with pleasure.

“F-faster Ale, please, ah- god-“ you moan into his ear, going literally stupid on his cock that you can’t even say a simple sentence.

“Yeah? you want me to destroy this pretty little pussy?”

He starts thrusting harder, pounding your tight heat in the most delicious way, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over. It’s good, way too good actually, and you can’t help but writhe under him, digging your nails on the nape of his neck.

Another orgasm is near, you know it, and he can feel it too by the way you’re clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, preciosa, you’re taking me so well” Alejandro growls, one of his large hands going down to find your clit, rubbing it fast in circular motions. “Cum for me again, come on.”

His words, mixed with the stimulation and the way he’s ramming into you, is just what you need to see stars. You come undone once more, feeling the intense pleasure in every inch of your body, moaning so loud that probably the whole base heard.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made” he says, looking at how your sweet juices are coating his abs and pubes. Did you just squirted? hell, that’s new, you didn’t knew you could do that.

Alejandro doesn’t take long to reach his own orgasm, thrusting a few more times until he’s cumming inside, filling that pretty pussy of yours with his thick seed as he bites your neck, letting out an animalistic grunt.

You both stay like that for a minute, too fucked out to move, catching your breath. And you’re feeling better, but the effects are still not gone at all.

“That was amazing” you say, stroking his beard, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Can we do it again?.”

“As many times as you want, preciosa.”

#alejandro vargas smut #cod smut #alejandro vargas x reader #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for slapping my mother in law?

I (27F) am married to my husband Jay (26M) and we recently had our first child Lily.

Well the pregnancy was a very very difficult one. I was throwing up every day for over six months, suffered long bouts of insomnia, developed gestational diabetes, standing up too fast made me incredibly dizzy, my entire body just constantly hurt, Lily kicked me so hard I legit had tears in my eyes (which combined with full body pain was...not pleasant) and to top it all off Lily weighed ELEVEN pounds and I tore really really badly.

Yeah...ow.

I love my daughter to death but never again. Ever.

Anyways after that literal hell of a pregnancy, I've been more or less bedbound for several weeks now while healing from that entire ordeal. Which means Jay has been taking care of pretty much everything, keeping the house clean, making food, taking care of me and Lily, etc. Its a lot I know and I wish I could do more to help but Jay has been insisting that I rest and recover and that he's got this. He's been handling everything like an absolute champ. Honestly if I didnt have him I dont know how I would be doing anything.

Well this morning Jay's parents came to visit and meet their granddaughter. So I was moved to the living room so I could introduce them to Lily and socialize a bit while Jay cooked lunch.

Now Jay's parents are very traditional. They believe that men make the money and that its the woman's job to take care of the house, the cooking, and the children.

You can probably see where this is going.

I introduce Mother in law to Lily and we get to talking. (Father in law went outside to go smoke)

Thats when mother in law asks why Jay is cooking. More importantly why Im NOT cooking. I tell her I physically cant even stand UP without help so how am I supposed to cook.

She only scoffed saying that I was just making excuses. I am very used to her bullshit by now so I just roll my eyes.

Then Lily started crying because she needed a diaper change. Mother in law tells me to go change her diaper. Again I cant even stand up by myself, much less get up to change a diaper.

I call Jay and he happily comes to get our daughter. Mother in law starts yelling, telling Jay no that I should do it because its my job. She grabs Lily and shoves her back into my arms and tells me to get up and go do it.

Jay, my wonderful angel, tried to tell her that I physically couldnt move for weeks and to mind her own damn business.

She then started yelling even more saying that I was making my husband do my job for me, calling me lazy and a slut (What that has anything to do with this? I have no idea) she went off on a complete tangent about how it was a woman's job to take care of the home and the children, that SHE managed just fine and she had five small children, that I was completely emasculating Jay, that I was a disgrace, etc.

She just kept going and going while not letting me and Jay even get a word in. Until eventually she said that my daughter will probably grow up to be a whore like I am.

I think it was a mix of pure exhaustion and hormones because somehow I managed to stand up for a moment and slap her across the face before immediately falling back on the couch.

Jay looked shocked, Mother in law looked livid. (Father in law was just watching from the doorway, equally as shocked.)

Mother in law started full on screaming, calling me every single name in the book until father in law physically dragged her out of the house by her arm.

Now hours later my phone has been blowing up with messages from my brothers and sister in laws, telling me that I was an asshole and that I had no excuse for hitting their mother.

Hell even my friends think I was in the wrong for hitting her (completely ignoring how she was yelling, calling me horrible names, in front of a newborn baby no less.)

So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[addie-henderson]

stupid thought popped into my head, imagine Percy and annabeth just taking turns flustering reader, just casually brushing their hands against you on and off or whispering dirty thoughts into your ear. Is this cringy😭

is this cringy? maybe. but I don't care

you choke on your breakfast as the filthy words feel your ears.

"are you ok, doll?" Annabeth asks from across the table. her voice is still sleepy causing a silky Virgina accent a lot like her father's that never seemed to linger very often. you squirm at the sound, flushed as the arm holding you still squeeze tighter.

'do you think she'd notice if touched you under the table? '

Surely she would. Annabeth had a few faults and the lack of perception was not one. Percy smiles softly and shoves a bit of pancake into his mouth. Content with himself. You glance at him and he makes eye contact as if to say 'go on. tell her. '

"well? are you ok, doll." the name is both familiar and foreign from Percy. it's usually used in a joking manner to mock Annabeth more than anything. but the way it rolls of his tongue is frustratingly attractive when it's used to mock you.

" 'm ok. just sleepy." you lie as Percy's hand squeezes your thigh.

Annabeth looks between the two of you suspiciously. but doesn't say anything beyond that. she wasn't a talkative morning person... or a morning person at all. the rest of breakfast is uneventful in your tiny apartment besides the growing flushed feeling in your cheeks everytime a large rough hand runs against your skin.

it had been your turn to do the dishes and you awaited the excuse to flee from the grip of your boyfriend for a moment to catch your breath. however the feeling of rough hands was quickly replaced by cool slender fingers brushing against your stomach as Annabeth pressed her face into your neck from behind. the sound of running water faded into the background as the pounding of your heart reaches your ears. her chest was pressed against your back reminding you that despite her baggie attire (a shirt stolen from Percy) she was not flat. "hi flower..."

"h-hi Annie" you stammer as her hands fold under the fabric of your shirt.

"what is Percy up to with you today?" she poses it as a polite and innocent question, but you know it's anything but.

"I dunno," you huff as her hands brush up closer to your chest. "I swear."

"you swear?"

"swear." you almost whine when her hand pulls out of your shirt leaving your body feeling like you had a fever.

you turn and look pathetically at her with a grumpy expression. Annabeth smiles and kisses your pouting lips.

"well I need to know." she says as she pulls apart. you grumble and grab a fist full of her shirt pulling her back in. you'd be damned if they both left you this way. your lips met hers in a heated frenzy and you push your hips closer to hers in an attempt to seek friction she couldn't provide (at least not standing up right) her hands settle on your hips giving you a warning squeeze to slow yourself, her nails dig slightly into your skin and you feel a tingle up your arm and you pull back. she opens her mouth and you think for sure it's that shes going to tell you you should head back to her room. she leans in again just enough that her lips are almost touching but when you go to greedily close the gap she pulls back.

"if you don't finish the dishes we'll miss our movie."

the movie in question had what's been one of your favorites but now it felt like sitting through hell. it was a showing on cable TV so you couldn't pause or fast forward or reply but you couldn't focus on any of the parts that you knew where your favorites with one hand brushing over your core through your shorts every few minutes and the constant feeling of small kisses pressed into your shoulder where Annabeth rested her head. you can feel your hand flexing in terrible anticipation and frustration growing in your stomach until it pops. "JESUS WILL ONE OF YOU PLEASE JUST FUCK ME."

#cha•°•annabeth #cha•°•percy #•°•percabeth #•°•anon #•°•percabeth x reader #•°•poly

[wintersera]

ep 3 of day off and yunjin suddenly disappearing for a moment gave me such a brainrot of reader nowhere to be find too, like 🤭🤭 the two of them going back to the house awkwardly cause they heard the members screams and their moment was over ehehee

cw: erm oral (receiving), edging? rip… reader doesnt get to cum

omg yeah the way yunjin was gone made me think thoughts bc like I KNOW she went to the staff to do whatever,,, but imagine if she didn’t 🤨🤨 you know

phew okay so when chaewon got out from her bed and into the other room where kkura, zuha and eunchae were sleeping in, yunjin had the genius idea of fucking you hard- yeah she knew it was risky,, like a shit load of cameras where in the house and the others had a high possibility of hearing either both of you go at it like rabbits.

but she really didn’t care at all. it had been ages since you last fucked,, mostly bc your schedules were tight and you also had an upcoming tour in japan that you could definitely NOT take a quickie for. so her only chance was now-

now that it was just you and her in the room, yunjin took of her mic and so did you. walking outside to the staff so they could put them somewhere safe.

as you come back inside the house, yunjin and you make a detour. thankfully!!!! the hot tub room was dark enough, and the cameras had been taken out just in case someone decided to go inside in the middle of the night. yunjin took this opportunity to pin you to the wall, fiddling with the zip your ‘day off’ hoodie “i know baby, it’s risky as hell,, but fuck, i really need you right now” quickly sliding the hoodie off your body.

“yunjin… the other members are still awake. what if they hear us?” she clearly wasn’t listening 😭😭 i mean she was already trailing down soft kisses from your neck down to your collarbone and then all the wayy down to your abdomen “…are you even listening?”

“hmmm?? yeah, no i am. i’m pretty sure you’ll be fine”her kisses grew hungrier, lips parting as she sighs,, fr holding back the urge to litter your skin with hickeys. with a quick hand she slips down you shorts easily- as well as hooking your panties with a finger, easing the fabric down so that it rests at your ankles “woww, and you were acting like you didn’t want it… you’re already wet y/n”

well fuck… she was already looking at you in the eye and your gay ass couldn’t say no to her. i mean come on?? on her knees with puppy eyes???? huh yunjin,,, the woman you are- you give her a small nod and she’s already diving in 😭 messily licking up and down your cunt bc she’s missed the taste of you so badly, not caring if her slurping was loud as fuck. and she had the audacity to shush you? begging for you to be quiet even though the hums and moans she was making weren’t discreet at all,,, if it weren’t for your members screaming and shouting you would’ve been caught by now.

things got heated really fast- yunjin not being able to control herself, even though she really should. your goal was to keep quiet yet she was making that job so damn difficult… like??? her tongue wasnt enough, she had to feel your insides with her fingers as well. sliding into your entrance with ease you had to bite back your lip in order not to scream out her name.

you felt yourself grow closer and closer- fuck almost so close, yunjin felt you walls clench around her fingers and definitely knew you were about to cum. the way you were rolling your hips so aggressively on her tongue made yunjin feel amazi-

“KKURA UNNIE WHERE DID YUNJINIE GO???” both stopping in your tracks bc of chaewons loud ass voice. you awkwardly hold yunjin hair as she quickly takes her fingers out of your dripping hole…

“shit.. well they’re looking for us now so…” yunjinie holding your arm for support so she can get up from the floor “guess we’ll have to wait” helping you stable yourself as you walk out of the room with shame

#kaye: imagines!! #le sserafim smut #le sserafim yunjin smut #huh yunjin smut #le sserafim x reader smut #le sserafim x fem reader smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #kpop girl group smut #fem!reader

[anxiousnerdwritings]

maybe as Viserys health begins to fail Sickly!Brother’s health begins to strengthen. and the brother thinks it’s some sort of twisted joke from the gods but the families are too busy relishing in the fact he can walk more the ten feet without loosing his breath or get down the stairs without coughing a lung out.

the servants swear Alicent had whiplash the first time she saw Sickly!Brother jogging through the royal gardens in a only a pair of shorts and footwraps

I can’t help but imagine people thinking that there is actually something correlating Viserys and the Reader’s drastic changes in both their health. Like, maybe there’s a rumor that Alicent or Daemon sought out a witch who through dark magical means intertwined the Reader and Viserys’ souls somehow resulting in one falling weaker and deteriorating while the other grows healthier and stronger as the days go by. Whether it’s true or not people are completely taken aback at the miraculous change in the Reader, even Viserys is shocked but he’s happy to be seeing his beloved brother getting to live and experience life the way he should have been able to all along.

Viserys would find amusement in his last moments about the whole absurd rumor of him and the Reader being intertwined somehow. He would contentedly tell anyone that he gladly accepted his fate if it meant his brother got to live the life he had been so cruelly robbed of all these years.

Meanwhile, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Daemon and Rhaenys have never seen the Reader look or be so lively as he is now. They’ve all watched as the Reader slowly regained strength, getting to a healthier weight, being able to stand for longer periods then getting to walk without any assistance. The whole thing is surreal to all of them but they couldn’t be happier. Alicent of course is there every step of the way helping the Reader in whatever way she can and being one of the first people to witness his recovery.

You can’t imagine the pure shock and panic that fills everyone when they first witness the Reader working out or sparring in some way. Alicent damn near faints from seeing the Reader shirtless, especially since his body is forming more muscle mass and said muscle is defining itself in certain places. Basically, she can’t handle how sexy her darling is becoming and nearly passes out from a nosebleed because of it. Sir Criston Cole is barely able to catch her right before she falls to the ground and smacks her head open (he totally was checking Reader out too). Everyone would be running around trying to get the Reader back into their bed or at least to a chair so they can take it easy, meanwhile Daemon is completely filled with pride at seeing his younger brother bettering himself and making the most out of his second chance at life.

Also, I can’t help but imagine knights, Kingsguard men, and servants at King’s Landing all chasing after the Reader who is half naked jogging around and working out. They’re all trying to cover him up and get him somewhere safe and make him take it easy on all the physical activity he’s trying to do. Alicent would also be chasing the Reader down to cover him up and save him from all the predatory eyes feasting over him if it weren’t for her nearly passing out every time she catches sight of him shirtless. It was one thing seeing his body when she would tend to him when I was still sick but now that it’s defining more she can’t handle it.

Given that the Reader is healthier now, able to move around more freely from the confines of his bedchambers without the worry of him overstimulating his lungs or needing to take a rest every few minutes due to his legs giving out in him, and now that he’s shaping himself up he’s gaining more attention than he’s ever had before. Especially from the female variety and Alicent couldn’t be more appalled by it. How dare anyone even think they could have a chance with her darling?! Were any of them there for him, taking care of him when he couldn’t even lift a spoon up to feed himself? Were any of them there to witness his worst moments and feel the sheer heart wrenching fear whenever his health dropped? No, no they weren’t! No one but Alicent was there for him all this time, not anyone else and certainly not those imbecile ladies of the court or the servant girls. She was the only one there for the Reader and she would be the only to continue being there for the Reader. Meanwhile, Daemon is already plotting who to betroth the Reader to to get him away from Alicent.

Also, now that the Reader is healthier he can move to Dragonstone with Rhaenyra and Daemon or even go to Driftmark with Rhaenys and Corlys. Or hell, the Reader may even just take off on his own and adventure around the Seven Kingdoms or the free cities and see the world that he’s only read of in his books.

#anxious answers #yandere alicent hightower #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere house of the dragon #yandere game of thrones #yandere house of the dragon concept #yandere game of thrones concept #yandere concept

[r0-boat]

TW: MENTION OF LOSING A LIMB/GORE MENTION please be advised.

Hello! I have a prompt where, the reader pushes there lover (warden Ingo, cyllene, laventon, adaman SEPARATE) away from an Alpha Pokemon attack and then get seriously injured (like losing a limb or something) and them crying and telling us off on how we could have died or grieving our death.

(both surviving and dying endings please)

Oh yes delicious angst! 👀

Cw: almost losing a limb/losing a limb, reader death, mourning, depression, angst no happy end.

Reader becoming severely injured or dying saving them.

Warden Ingo

(Close call)

Ingo carried you, blood staining his coat and your outfit. He carried you going as fast as he humanly could down until the nearest doctor, anyone who could help—screaming for help, keeping you warm, and losing more blood in any way he could. When you finally wake up, Ingo is out of breath and on the verge of tears. He holds you close, tight, and protective. He couldn't get mad at you. He could never be mad. He was just relieved you were all right. However I would be lying if I said he wouldn't be a little more protective from now on.

(reader dead)

He stared at a shaky palm, remembering the way you went slack in his arms, bags under his eyes from sleepless nights filled with new and old nightmares. The painful feeling of losing something was so painful; however, what scared him more was that this feeling was familiar to him. The emptiness inside him was only doubled after. He can't even look at himself anymore because whatever stares back is your smiling face and deja vu. Even though he knows he must take care of himself, he has to admit it's hard even to bring himself to eat these days without looking over to your smiling face how he misses you're warmth in his arms. Now, all he feels is the cold, howling wind of Coronet Heights. Once again that loneliness fills him in this time; it will be there till his grave. Ingo cannot love again for he can not feel that love again.

Cyllene

(close call)

Survivors guilt, as you lie there on the ground losing blood at an alarming rate. She's frozen. She's almost in denial as other survey members rush to your limb body. Cyllene finally snaps out of it all. Her panic hits her all at once, barking orders to get you back to camp.

Unfortunately Pesselle running low on supplies and with time running out she wasn't sure she would be able to save you. Upon hearing this Revelation something inside her stoked a fire Cyllene took it upon herself to go out and find every single ingredients she needed helping her nurse you back to health, of course you being unconscious from blood loss for a few days you had no idea all you woke up to was an angry rant from a very very pissed captain.

(Death)

After all she did, she couldn't save you. Sadness and rage bubble into one, gritting her teeth, nails scratching at the cold ground; she wants to scream. Damn it why wasn't it her? Damn, it should have been her! The job of the Galaxy Core was to protect people and she couldn't even protect the one person she cared most. She needed to get stronger she needed to be more so this would never happen again. And that's why her heart grows three times colder that day.

Laventon

(close call)

Laventon drag you outside of Camp to look at some Pokemon well he asks you to ready your pokeballs for a catch, but he doesn't notice the alpha Garchomp that had their eyes on you. Everything was a blur then helplessly sitting still as the rest of Team Galaxy tried everything to use your Pokemon to fight the alpha back off as they get you back to safety. If only he could throw a Pokeball if he were good at raising Pokemon. Laventon felt like a burden to you here he was having you risk his life to do his work any friendly wake up he's on the verge of tears holding you closely his hands shaking the sinking feeling of uselessness does not leave.

(Death)

He drowns himself in his work. It is the only way to make him forget about his constant nightmares of that day. He still loves Pokemon. He does not blame Pokemon for taking your life, but he recognizes more than anyone else that Pokemon are as dangerous as they are fascinating. It'll be a while since he touches one without his heart beating with anxiety. He barely eats. He sleeps. All he does is work on his Pokedex. He has to finish it for your sake, or else all the dangerous work you did, the work you died for, will be for nothing, and when he finally finishes, it will say, "With the help of my beloved, thank you. I will miss you."

Adaman

(close call)

If it wasn't for Leafeon who growled at the large Pokemon making sure it didn't take a step closer as his human brother held you in his arms, blood staining his fingers. Leafeon successfully holding back the Pokemon that threatened your life walks over to Adaman whining as he looks your arm giving him a worried look. Adaman knows the natural remedies around these parts you are too far from the settlement and the village to take care of you so he does all that he can using leafeon's aromatherapy to soothe you as he begins to use natural herbs and revenues to calm the bleeding as much as he can while ripping apart his own clothes for makeshift bandages rumoring through your bag for anything he could use anything at all to help.

Upon waking up, Adaman almost tackles you, holding you close to his body, careful not to hurt you. He squeezes you gently. "You're an idiot..." he whispers, his hand shaking, his voice breaking. "don't you ever scare me like that again."

(death)

If only he was faster and in denial at the fact that your time has ended. If only he hadn't wasted his time, he could have gotten you to the settlement, and you would have been here. He felt like a failure, not only a failure of a friend but a failure of the leader of Diamond Clan. If he couldn't keep one person he loved alive, how could he keep his entire Clan alive? Time is truly short. However, some people, if unlucky, can be even shorter. He'll spend all his days morning into training, getting stronger in your name until he has passed out on the ground. He knows that he's just wasting his time and that no amount of tears will bring you back. He did not deserve you; you did not serve your time being robbed. The Lord Sinnoh is so cruel.

#pokemon headcannons #pokemon reader insert #Angst #pokemon adaman #adaman x reader #professor laventon #Laventon x reader #captain cyllene #pokemon cyllene #pokemon legends arceus #warden ingo #ingo x reader

[oops-all-concrete]

Hello lovelies, 💘HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!💘

I'm back with more BG3 headcanons! Today's prompt is;

💕Modern AU; Ways the BG3 (romanced) companions are idyllicly sweet with Tav!💕

No spoilers! Tags are; A whole heckin lot of fluff and cuteness!

Lae'zel -

You have to be careful with what you say around Lae'zel. Made a minor comment 3 months ago that you wanted to revisit somewhere in the Sword Coast? Get packing, you guys are all booked to go. Asked Lae'zel to get you candy on the way home? She has 3 full bags. Say that comment her folks made last time you visited made you uncomfortable- you have a paragraph text apology from all of them the next day. She's not just someone who wants to spoil Tav, she fucking will. (If Tav manages to talk her out of going nuts with the pampering, she's surprisingly sentimental. You bet she keeps a rock in her pocket that reminds her of Tav)

Shadowheart -

She is so excited to post you. She doesn't like social media and tends to keep to herself, but after watching Tav post pictures of them both, she wanted to do the same. The minute she gets even the smallest romantic gesture, she's scrapbooking, she has a wall of Polaroids joined by a horde of hand made sketches, she's putting together little snack baskets and mailing them to Tav, she's about as obviously head over heels as a person can be, really. She's always got a camera aimed at Tav, even if they're just for her. (A good 90% are just for her eyes)

Wyll -

This man never plays games/gets online with both sides of the headphones in. It doesn't matter if the game is online, offline, urgent, time sensitive, dependent on his concentration- if Tav so much as makes a peep, he's out of his seat and across the room. Hells, he takes every chance he gets to go give Tav some attention. In the drift of leaving the waking world, Tav will definitely hear a little "One minute, Tav needs me" despite them not asking. Some footsteps. And then moments later, the warmth of the duvet being tucked all over their body and a gentle kiss to the cheek. Whispered "I love you"s and then a quiet. "I'm going to hop off for a few hours." So you can have some quiet.

Karlach -

She's one of those people that really makes you realise you have good taste in other people. Like, you can't think of a time you went on a walk and she didn't pick up some trash, help an elderly person across the street, immediately offer her seat to a pregnant woman. No matter how prideful Tav might be or not, there's a pride in the admiring looks other people give her. Little girls pass in the street and say "mum, I want to be like her when I grow up!" Everything she does makes Tav proud to be with her, yet somehow Tav is always the one under a spotlight to her. "Oh, me and my partner-" this. "Oh, my partner-" that. "I'm so proud of my Tav. Ugh, I am so lucky" she insists at every turn.

Gale -

He's a night owl, much to Tara's dismay. Wether that's because he can't sleep, he likes being awake in the dark hours or- his brain won't stop nattering at him for a gods damned minute, but either way. He's probably working, quietly cleaning, organising Tavs things so they don't have to worry. In quiet moments, between possibly making them breakfast because of course he's up that early- he's just kissing Tav on the forehead, gently, trying not to wake them. He needs them to sleep but there is not a moment in his day where he doesn't think: "Does Tav know I love them? Can I remind them once more? Even if its just for my peace of mind?" Because he will not rest if he has an inkling his live for Tav isn't at the forefront of their mind.

Astarion -

If you even suggest to this man that you should do matching outfits, he's excited. He always wants to take the wheel, but also wants Tav to have a foot in the idea. He will give ideas left and right, opinions up and down. He doesn't care if it's a date or not, cringe solstice photos, or just gym clothes, he's all for it. If you guys didn't have matching pyjamas already, you have them now, congrats. (If he's still a bloodsucker, he'll definitely still go out of his way to learn how to cook for Tav. Tokyo Ghoul rules though, so Tav gets to taste test a lot. Only the best for his little capri-sun) Overall he's just unashamed and excited to be with someone who very obviously wants to be his, visibly as possible.

(Bonus Halsin!)

Halsin -

This man lives for shared activity. He's quite alright on his own and can allow Tav their space, but going to get massages, haircuts/styles, wine tasting is his total vibe. Just relaxed gatherings together. Nobody lives a spa day like this man. It allows a level of intimacy that nature intends. Cleansing. Careful. Close. He will learn how to do Tavs hair and makeup if asked. Will take pleasure in being able to undress them and put them to bed at the end of a long day. Go on hikes and camping trips, walks through the woods, carving names into rocks and bringing back souvenirs to press into a book that's only getting thicker.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 headcanons #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #lae'zel #astarion headcanons #gale headcanons #wyll headcanons #karlach headcanon #karlach bg3 #astarion x tav #karlach x tav #lae'zel headcanons #lae'zel bg3 #shadowheart headcanons #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #wyll x tav #halsin headcanons #bg3 halsin #halsin x tav #gale x tav #fluff #valentines day

[ethanlandrysrightballsack]

My Way of Life / Scream 2023 - gotta be a part of your soul and your heart all the time.

and you can aim for my heart, go for blood but you would still miss me in your bones. my tears ricochet / taylor swift

laurie riley can remember the 2011 attacks as if it was yesterday.

she was just a little girl, adopted in the right family at the wrong time, you could say. she didn't necessarily remember her past all that well, not before being taken in by the sheriff, at the time, dewey riley and his wife, the famous reporter, gale weathers. she didn't know of dewey's promise to her mother shortly before her death either. all she ever had of her biological parents was a expensive piece of jewerly that she was sure was the most expensive thing that she had ever owned growing up, a heart shaped necklace with small diamonds on the corners of the heart. inside, was a picture of her.

she had been locked away, confided in the very same bedroom she had fallen asleep in earlier that night, after her babysitter, kirby's friend, charlie, had ordered her some mcdonalds, agreeing with a forced smile to look after the girl while her parents were...busy. truth be told, she hadn't meant to wake up. it was the eerie silence that had stirred her awake, the ticking of the clock being the only thing that had rung in her ears, aside from the muffled sound of whatever movie jill had put on for the young girl that, in a weird way, you could consider her adopted cousin, considering of how highly sidney had spoke about the sheriff, that it only made sense to think of each other as family, right? her little feet tiptoed their way out, taking a quick peek around both corners. nothing. this wasn't normal. she had never felt such a feeling before, but she felt the skin jump out of her body hearing a muffled whimper from outside...seemingly on the porch?

the rest was a blur. kirby was being practically cradled by the boy she had trusted with her entire life, a knife lodged deep into her stomach, breaking and cutting through skin a little with the amount of force by the blows. she hadn't meant to make noise, and neither of them had meant for her to walk in on what was something that a child never should have experienced. but it was a fight or flight type of situation, and maybe if she was just a little older, she could have taken him on. but she was much smaller, thinner. and it was how quick he removed the knife and walked toward her had sent her falling on her ass. she hadn't recognized the smile that was on his face. near damn carnivolific, with small little fangs bearing that she took off as soon as she could. but she didn't make it far, as she barely managed to shut the door as charlie had made it, swinging the dripping weapon with intent, but only engraving the door. she had managed to get a smaller dresser shoved against it, and eventually, she heard him yell something, though it only sounded like a muffled curse before walking away. no one else ever came to that door.

though she heard it all. despite how desperately she tried to drown out the sounds, by the tv playing distinctively in the background, to covering her ears and rocking back and forth as it all got louder.

stabbing. crying. yelling. more yelling. gunshots. more noise.

stabbingcryingyellingmoreyellinggunshotsmorenoisestabbingcryingyellingmoreyellinggunshotsmorenoisestabbingcryingyellingmoreyellinggunshotsmorenoisestabbingcryingyellingmoreyellinggunshotsmorenoi-

she couldn't help but scream feeling a pair of hands on her shoulders, a undescribable feeling of dread had filled her poor heart that night. she was so sure that charlie had came back. to finish the job. but once her vision cleared, and the ringing slowly eased enough to hear, she could make out the silhouette of who was most certainty her dad's friend! someone that...gale didn't seem to care for. but to her, it was all she needed, hugging onto her as soon as she could. she could just cry until she couldn't anymore, and judy hicks just held her. shushed her, rocked her back and forth as if she were her own. it felt nice.

"gale? gale, she's in here!" the blonde shouted, as she focused her gaze instead on the familiar uniform that they shared, her cries turning into light whimpers, her heartbeat slowly coming back down to normal. she didn't hear much of what judy and gale were saying, she felt both women searching her body intensly, before realizing there was a small cut on her hand. so it only seemed right to take her to the hospital where jill, the hero, and her aunt sidney were staying for treatment.

according to her father, jill lied. straight to his face, too. said something that only a killer would have known, but she wasn't fully aware. she knew she received her first stab that day, a piece of glass through the leg by the girl she thought she could trust. she lost consciousness then, having only been found after the aftermath, clinging to the weakening pulse she still had.

the next couple of years wasn't all that fun for her. she learned how to use a gun as soon as she could walk right again. she learned basic self defense, as soon as she was old enough. her father made her take martial arts, just to be able to defend herself. at just aged fourteen, she carried around a switchblade as a way to protect herself.

on the weekends, she'd find herself instead in new york city with her mom and her new boyfriend. oh, right. mom and dad separated. it wasn't that big of a deal for laurie, as she was always much, much more closer with her father. and her small trips there had earned herself a friend, with a silly boy a little younger than her, with a bowl cut but with a extremely endearing personality and a smile that could light up the entire room. she liked him, a lot. but he seemed to like her more. though, laurie didn't quite understand what love was at the time, and the visits slowly stopped as her father retired, and she could tell her father was starting to slowly decline from his long, long years of constant attacks.

just a couple of months after her nineteenth birthday, it started up again. this time, she had her own group of friends. consisting of those from her childhood; tara, wes, and mindy, specifically. but with mindy, came her much more insufferable brother, chad and his girlfriend, liv. they didn't talk much, but laurie liked her. enough to offer to stay behind just to make sure vance wouldn't try anything with her. and then, there was amber. they met in middle school, a little after she stopped visiting new york and they instantly formed a bond. tara called it love at first sight, and a part of laurie wondered if that was true. at the time, she believed so.

though she knew she was declining. the stabs were brutal. the screaming. the cutting.

stabbingmorestabbingscreamingmorescreamsslicingofskinstabbingmorestabbingscreamingmorescreamsslicingofskinstabbingmorestabbingscreamingmorescreamsslicingofskin-

she knew she took too long to react. by the time she ran up to stab the figure carving into her father, she felt a familiar sharp, burning pain in her lower abdomen, and she heard her father choking on his own blood, focused on her now. and she just sobbed, seeing all for herself the life drain from his eyes the longer he looked at her. before there was nothing left. she dropped with him, screaming at the top of her lungs, as for a moment, the figure just watched her, before kicking her in the face. that was enough to knock her out.

but she still wasn't dead. she could feel gentle hands shaking at her, she recognized sam's voice telling richie and paramedics that she was awake, but her eyes didn't leave that of the bag that her father was being zipped into, whispering something that not even sam could understand. she felt herself drift back into the nothingness that waited for her.

and she kept spiraling. after they managed to get her stable, she couldn't stop thinking about it. about what they did. the more she thought, the more the sorrow turned into anger. the more she thought, the more her fist clenched at her side. she needed to seek revenge, for him. it made sense to her at the time. and then, that was all that was in her mind. so the promise was made then. she'd kill them. every last one of them.

she didn't even recognize herself anymore. even after it was all said and done, but where was the satisfication? she made sure they suffered. just like dewey did. but it wasn't enough. why wasn't it fucking enough? she lost count of how many times she tackled amber to the floor once gale and sidney had her distracted, activating her switchblade and...her screams. the blood. gale and sidney even flinching a little. their screams, mixing together, until eventually, amber fell quiet, but she didn't stop. it wasn't until gale pulled her back, that she nearly stabbed her in reflex too. it was all so blurry for her. before eventually, those deep stabs from richie seemed to kick in, the adrenaline fading away and instead, feeling her body go limp in her mother's arms.

that time, she did die. for two minutes. sidney managed to get her breathing again, but she needed multiple blood transfusions just to pull through. she just felt...numb, when she woke up. why her? why couldn't wes, liv, or even judy had of pulled through? at the time, she hated being alive. she just wanted her father, but she could never act irrationally, as tara slept in the same bed with her. they had known each other since they were toddlers, after all. she couldn't leave her, or her and dewey's dog.

so reluctantly, she agreed to go with the group to new york city. its not like she had a choice, tara had signed her up for blackmore with the others. though the moment she was in that car, the better it got. her head resting comfortably in tara's lap, her acrylics digging into her scalp, which just only lulled her to sleep. it didn't help that the cheesy pop music tara had chosen for them to listen to on the drive there was unironically catchy.

to her surprise, she found herself liking it here. aside from how people would target her and sam, specifically, labeling and calling them murderers and other taunting names for their involvement in the woodsboro massacres, believing that they were behind it. laurie though, tried to not let it bother her, as much as she could. it's not like it didn't bother her, sometimes it brought back too much painful memories and she'd lock herself away in her room all day, but she didn't want to be a scared child anymore. she wanted to be free from it all. to live her own fucking life.

though as soon as the first weekend of the first month of their stay at blackmore hit, chad had called everybody to ask if they'd all be okay with going out for a celebratory dinner, and to also just get to know each other, which everyone did agree to. but the last person she didn't expect to see walk in was a familiar face.

a much more older version of who she once knew. she felt her heart skip a beat, and he was sure as hell he did too. he almost looked like a deer in headlights, just as taken aback as she was. the shock was strong, but eventually, both of them smiled widely, almost at the same time. but neither could speak, feeling tingly everywhere in their body. in their hearts, in their souls. like it was meant to be.

"e?" she asks, still taken aback, but a lot more confident in her guess now, which he just smiled wider and ran forward to squeeze her into a hug. one she gladly accepted, the shy boy spinning her around as they both laughed, glad to be in each other's arms again.

but the others just stared, the confusion clear as day for even tara, a part of her childhood that laurie had never once spoken on. but nobody seemed to notice quinn as well, narrowing her eyebrows a little as the realization came in. and how her little brother placed her down and seemed to forget all about how the entire group was there. instead sitting in a booth behind the group, so still around if they wanted to talk, but the two seemed to want to be left alone. smiling, laughing, and complimenting each other.

for chad, it had been the most brave thing of ethan he had ever seen. for the longest time he had known his roomie, he knew of ethan being the shy type of boy who preferred to be by himself and had no clue how to even approach a girl. but here he was, acting like he's known her all his life.

it was just the beginning of the end.

Taissa Farmiga / Laurie Riley (Weathers) Daddy's Girl. 80s Music. The Older Sister. Starlit Skies. Romance Movies. Literally Padme Amidala. Twenty.

Jack Champion / Ethan Landry Mama's Boy. Curly Brown Hair. Total Star Wars Geek. Literally Anakin Skywalker. Aquarium Lover. Nineteen.

Katie Douglas / Adrianna Riley-Weathers Daddy's Girl. The Little Sister. Ceo of Simple Sweaters and Pretty Cardigans. Born to Die. Sunsets. Nineteen.

Jenna Ortega / Tara Carpenter Nobody's Daughter. The Fashionista. The Archer. Midnights. My Immortal. Nineteen.

Sydney Sweeney / Esther Macher Nobody's Daughter. The Nurse. Otherwise known as Ellie Williams. Red Leathered Jackets. Sunsets. Twenty Six

Melissa Barerra / Samantha Carpenter Daddy's Girl. The Mastermind. Otherwise known as Dina Woodward. CEO of Plain White Sweaters. The Archer. Twenty Five

Vivien Lyra-Blair / Judith Landry Nobody's Daughter. Ceo of Colorful Clothes. Aspiring Actress. Otherwise Known as the Boogeyman's Daughter. Eight.

Piper Rubio / Abigail "Abby" Faye Taylor - Altieri Daddy's Girl. Flare Jeans. Ice Skater. Artist. Anything Sweet. Swiftie. Nine.

remaining cast!! Scott Foley ... Roman Bridger Parker Posey ... Jennifer Jolie Courtney Cox ... Gale Weathers David Arquette ... Dewey Riley Neve Campbell ... Sidney Prescott Mikey Madison ... Amber Freeman Jasmin - Savoy Brown ... Mindy-Meeks Martin Mason Gooding ... Chad-Meeks Martin Dylan Minette ... Wes Hicks Sonia Ammar ... Liv Mackenzie Jack Quaid ... Richie Kirsch (Bailey) Emma Myers ... Annalise Elizabeth Hamilton ( Riley - Weathers ) Devyn Nekoda ... Anika Kayoko Madeleine McGraw ... Younger! Laurie Riley Younger! Noah Jupe ... Younger! Ethan Landry Liana Liberato ... Quinn Bailey Dermot Mulroney ... Wayne Bailey Hayden Panettiere ... Kirby Reed Josh Hutcherson ... Mike Taylor-Altieri

THE REST AS DESCRIBED / DEPICTED !

OOO. HIII EVERYONE WELCOME TO MY WAY OF LIFE!! you are all my ELITE EMPLOYEES, seeing this before i post it on my wattpad account haha (if i even do). this here is a fic of me, and a collection of my close friends (ciel, kara, and sarinnah)'s characters for our own personal little screamverse!! we, as a group, do not support the creators or anything of the sort. as far as we're concerned, erm, we created this universe!! we are the masters now!! no ones safe. not even the children. OOO. so adding onto this, some of these characters don't belong to me!! i'd get sued if i said so. and im broke. so they kind of need credits.

OO1. Annalise Riley-Weathers, Mike Taylor-Altieri && Abby Taylor-Altieri belong to someone i seriously consider my little brother. FCKIN CHRIST WE ARE INSANE. WE LITERALLY REMADE 4, 5 AND 6 JUST FOR GIGGLES. THERES SO MUCH LORE GOOD GOD CIEL. WHEN I SAY STOP ME FROM RAMBLING, I MEAN IT. I mean jesus where do i even start with you. you're more of family to me than my actual one is, and that says a lot. i've known you for almost two years now, but it feels like i've known you for even longer. you're genuinely the most funniest, talented and overall amazing people ive ever met. you also saved my life, so many times without ever physically being there. i wish we could meet bb ): its uhm...kind of embarrassing how i dont have your tag for here!! im new here. but dont worry ill harass you later (morelike send you the link) but i love u sm. OO2. Adrianna Riley-Weathers belongs to my other friend, sare!! i know we don't talk a lot and we can totally blame discord's shitty notification system for that but i love our little roleplay and our little conversations we have even if its to shit on ur over the top ex friend!! im so happy you're comfortable enough telling me stuff i wouldn't tell anyone else. ur the best <3 and no, fuck chara they dont exist. you want a chad ship? fine, ethan is in love w chad too. they are now canon suck it. TARA IS A LESBIAN. TAMBER COME BACK TO ME...TAMBER...TAMBER I MISS Y- OO3. and finally, Esther Macher && Samantha Carpenter belongs to my friend, Kara. im sorry you've had to put up with my "i want ethan landry to shove me against a wall and (insert controversial comment here)" comments in ur tiktok feed, im a little menace for this goofy guy if u couldn't tell!! but seriously, even though we've only known each other off and on for about a year now but started talking actively a few months ago, your genuinely super charismatic and funny like i genuinely adore u. also, if anyone else tries to come on here saying they love samantha carpenter the most, ill just say ur lying, because thats actually her. you'll never compare, cope. but in all seriousness, tysm for putting up with my constant shit i appreciate you so much, even if right now we're just spamming each other's tiktok because we'd rather put a gun in our mouths then send out replies to our roleplay...

OOO. so anyways i hope u enjoy this book the more i send out chapters for it!! ill be making a masterlist for u crazy folks <3 laurie && judith are my babies i lovelove them so much. god im nervous

#scream 6 #scream 6 fanfic #ethan landry #jack champion #ethan landry fanfic #ethan landry smut #ethan landry fluff #tara carpenter fanfic #samantha carpenter fanfic

[sistervirtue]

YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS

welcome to sistervirtue dot tumblr dot com. those of you who have read my url...seen my icon...may be wondering: who is this woman? who is Sister Virtue?

as the @original-character-championship bracket begins, I would like to take the time to introduce you to her. go on. take a seat.

[art credit: @/omusubigender, @/citrus-sours, @/kkbardd, @/pcktknife, @/celebiis, @/citrus-sours]

Sister Virtue is a not-quite woman not-quite of the cloth with a bit of a scowl and an unholy attitude problem. Formerly a cherub known as Theophania serving in the appellate choirs of heaven, she judged human souls and debated the dogma of heaven day in and day out.

Although a perfect machine of heaven, Theophania was not heartless. Through her friendship with the Archangel Gabriel, whom represents human souls and their interests in the courts of heaven, she learned about those she judged.

And I am going to let you in on a secret. Angels and demons are both creatures of passion, just their passion turns in different ways. Demons experience passion for the self. Angels turn their passion towards God. And for Theophania, her passion turned in a different way-- towards those silly little animals whom she watched day in and day out. (Even you!)

So when Gabriel came lamenting of the Seraphim's decision to bring forth the end of humanity, she may have done something a bit drastic. Drastic like stealing the Eye of God, an important artifact containing the summation of all knowledge, and then slamming it into her own skull in order to hold it hostage and kick up enough of a fuss that the angels acquiesced and agreed to come to some sort of truce. The ultimate blasphemy.

She would be felled. If she cared so much about those silly, stupid animals, she could spend the rest of eternity proving they were worth it. Shoved into a body made of flesh and her powers largely sealed behind seven penances, Sister Virtue is tasked with protecting humanity from all threats divine or diabolic. She cannot die; [officially banned to prevent any loopholes or complicated litigation later] but she can give up... but doing so would mean damning all of humanity in the entire process.

After crash-landing into a convent and taking the administrative lead of the attached school (now known as Eschaton Academy) Sister Virtue is establishing a network of those both blessed and possessed to aid her in the arduous process of keeping people safe, all while trying to figure out what it means to be human herself.

So Why should you vote for her?

Let's face it, we're not in high school any more.

Coming of age stories for teens are fun, but sometimes... you don't really start coming of age until your 20's, 30's, 40's... Virtue, 37 human years old, is here to show the journey of growing into your skin even if that comes after high school.

2. She's hot as hell.

A nun in her work uniform, Sister Virtue at heart is a truckin', smokin', wrestlin' uncle of a woman, and her casual attitude and casual attire reflect this. And let's face it. A woman who hates wearing shirts and has a happy trail is a god-sent gift for all of us.

[art credit @ koiiluvz]

3. She's just a bit weird.

She named her car (a self-"upgraded" hearse) the Popemobile. She smokes cigarettes because she likes the taste. She doesn't mind nudity, but gets shy eating in public because digestion is just a little too intimate for an angel. She loves paperwork. Sometimes she regurgitates the angel equivalent of a hairball.

4. Don't know about all this original universe lore? She's got a D&D Iteration.

You can find her character sheet here-- She;s a tanky fallen aasimar paladin with 3 different ways to intimidate. Because you don't even need a gun with an attitude like hers.

5. She'd vote for you

At the end of the day, Sister Virtue is someone who runs on love. Love for all of humanity. Including you. Even if you don't believe in Virtue, virtue believes in you, and you should believe in you too.

Questions? Concerns? Comments? Check out my eschaton academy tag. Or pop into my inbox or dms.

(she even has emotes. art credit @/pcktknife, @/citrus-sours, and @/GR4FF1T1 [on toyhouse] )

#eschaton academy #sister virtue #VIRTUESWEEP2023

[welldonebeca]

Bonding (III)

Summary: When new feelings are revealed after the changes in their little family, the Winchesters realise their relationships needs a little bit more work than they expected. WC: 2.1k Warnings: Dirty thoughts, naked people, fluff.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.

Masterlist

Sam glanced behind himself when he heard the sound of Thea clearing her throat behind him, finding his girlfriend leaning against the frame of the bathroom door.

"You didn't wake me up?" she pouted.

Sam shook his head. After a night of fucking, his blue-haired bunny had woken him up ready to bounce on his cock, which lead them into another two hours in bed.

"You fell asleep," he remarked. "I didn't want to disturb you."

He stepped out, reaching for a towel as his hair dripped all over his face, and raised his eyebrows when she took a long look of his body, lingering on his soft cock before going back to his eyes.

"You know," she uncrossed her arms, fully exposing her breasts, and he could see her nipples had hardened up. "I wouldn't have minded if I knew it meant some shower time with you."

Sam chuckled. Knowing her dirty mind, they wouldn't step out of that shower cleaned up.

"So you can suck my cock while I wash your hair?"

Thea smiled.

"I'm not opposed to that."

Sam shook his head.

Of course, if he could, he would spend the whole day just fucking his bunnies, but it wasn't quite possible. They all had three kids to take care of, and he also had his work to worry about, and the well-being of the girls.

And most important, what Thea had said last night wouldn't leave his head.  She didn't feel wanted by him, and he wasn't sure just a night of sex was enough to clean her head of those doubts.

"I was thinking," he cleared his throat, and picked up the clothes he'd separated for himself, remembering the idea he'd had as he fell asleep the night before. "I... uh..."

Sam's voice faltered and he hesitated, afraid of actually saying the words.

He shouldn't, though.

They were mated. She was pregnant with his baby. Sam should feel comfortable asking her out, right?

"You were thinking?" she repeated his words back to him.

Sam cleared his throat.

"I want to take you on a date," he continued, stuttering a bit. "And I want to know if you, you know, want to go."

Athena raised her eyebrows in surprise, and his heart raced in his chest. They weren't the kind to go on dates, the four of them. Ever since the season they mated, they all fell into a family routine that rarely consisted on leaving the house without the kids.

"We can take the pups if they want to go," he added quickly, growing anxious. "And if you want them to go, of course. I thought we could be alone, but we don't have to be alone if you don't want to be alone with me."

She laughed.

"And why wouldn't I want to be alone with you, Sam?" Thea asked. "I would love to go on a date."

Sam exhaled in relief, flushing in embarrassment, and his cheeks were still warm when she stepped closer to him and rested a hand on his cheek, getting on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his skin there.

"You are so god-damn adorable," she giggled softly.

Sam's face burnt up even more.

He'd been called a lot of things in life. Adorable wasn't a frequent one.

Before he could say anything, a knock sounded loud on the upstairs door, and Thea turned around.

"We are in here," she shouted back.

"Breakfast is ready," Dean alerted them. "Come before food gets cold. And be decent!"

Sam nodded along, and turned to Thea, finding her already picking up her underwear and putting it on.

"And you won't need that," she took his shirt from his hands.

He shook his head, but didn't stop her as she put it on, and the shirt looked like a dress on her.

Sam heard the babies before he even saw them, smiling when the two of them were met by good and excited screams as he and Thea walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning, my pups," he cooed, moving quickly to his toddlers.

He squeezed his eyes when he realised Dean and Dittie were already seated, with her on his lap.

"Breakfast is served," his brother spoke simply.

Thea chuckled, kissing their kids affectionately.

"Hi, my babies," she cooed. "Did you sleep well?"

The kids babbled all together, mixing words with gibberish, but he could tell they were too excited and busy showing her the mushed bananas in their little hands as they answered the question in their own way.

He was smiling as he served himself and Thea, and placed both their plates with food down before sitting, pulling her gently before she could take a seat by his side.

"Come here," he patted his thighs. "You got a perfect seat right here."

Her round cheeks flushed pink, but she obeyed, and neither his brother nor her sister batted an eye to their affection, and Sam rested his free hand on her thigh as he started eating, sniffing her neck and enjoying her warmth against him, trying to think of what he could do to surprise her tonight.

He had never taken the girls out to dinner, but he knew a few of the foods Thea liked to eat. Maybe it was a good idea to ask Dittie about it, to see if there was any indication of cuisine he could pick.

"I was thinking about taking Thea out for the day," he squeezed her knee, looking at Dittie and Dean. "Just the two of us."

His shoulders were admittedly a little tense. He had never taken Dittie out on a date, and even though they had all agreed with sharing, there was a little bit of fear in him that she was going to be jealous.

His wife, however, looked pretty excited.

"Oh, that sounds great," she exclaimed. "You two really could use some quality time together."

Sam tried not to look too surprised.

Had everyone noticed he was neglecting her and no one told him?

"You know that day we went out with the pups?" Dittie looked at Thea. "And you were buying art supplies?"

Recently, he had found out Thea was an artist. Well, she described herself as a mum with a painting hobby, but her abstract paintings were very pretty, and had even sould out in the neighbourhood recently. Apparently, Sam was the only one who didn't know, which is a big sign to his lack of attention sometimes.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Well, there is this really nice restaurant a few streets away from the mall, very family friendly, but they divide the floors, you know? " she explained with her hands. "And the food is so good."

Sam turned to Dean, confused, and his brother shrugged.

"You were at that work thing."

He nodded to himself.

"Their food is really good," Dean insisted. "Like... we went through three servings. The pups tried to steal food from our plates."

Thea giggled.

Yes, they always did that when they liked their food too much and realised the adults were eating more than them.

"Wait," he frowned. "East or West of the mall?"

Dittie thought with herself.

"West," she decided.

Sam had seen that restaurant. It was relatively new.

"Is that the new burger joint that opened three months ago?" he frowned.

Dean shrugged again.

"Yeah, the... green thing one," his brother explained. "And don't worry, they have vegan options for you too, big rabbit."

Sam rolled his eyes. He wasn't even vegan, his joke didn't make sense, but Dean insisted on it any time he mentioned the quality of their food.

He just flicked a pancake bit to his face.

"I want to live to see my grandchildren, Dean," he remarked. "I don't plan to go into cardiac arrest at 50."

His brother scoffed.

"Sam, we are wolves!" he insisted. "We eat meat."

"There is meat, and there is the processed crap you try to call meat," he corrected his brother. "This isn't the Stone Age any more, Dean. We have the luxury to be careful about the food we eat."

Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Just please tell me you didn't give the kids chicken nuggets," he sighed.

Before Dean could even answer, Sam's attention was diverted when he felt kisses on his neck.

"You both are very smart and strong, and great fathers," Thea interrupted him. "And you both prioritise the kids above everything else. Right, babies?"

He turned to the pups, and shook his head when he realised their food would make great art supplies, and their high chairs were good canvas.

"They agree," Dittie chuckled. "And no, Sam. We didn't give them chicken nuggets."

Thea kissed his cheek again, and squeezed his shoulder with one of her hand, rubbing her nose on his.

“Do you want to go there?” she asked softly. “We can find a restaurant that you might like more.”

He gave her lips a little peck.

"Are you sure?' he asked.

Sam wanted to treat her to something she would lke, not just a something he would liked.

"I think that restaurant is more for a whole family visit," she suggested. "We can go all together and enjoy it as a family."

Sam nodded, and she caressed his face.

"I do know a nice place the lady in the art store told me," she caressed his hair. "It's a new vegan restaurant. And yes, I know you are not vegan, but I looked into the manu and it looks very nice. I know a few of the dishes, and I think you'll like them too."

He nodded along with her. As far as he knew, the bunny community was majorly vegan, so he wasn't surprised Thea - and Dittie - had some familiarity with the cuisine.

Sam nodded.

"I would love that," he kissed the tip of her nose, and moved down, kissing her lips just as well.

They were interrupted, however, but a little sound that was a mixture of a cry and whine.

"No, Mary," Dittie spoke up. "Don't put food on your brother's face."

He chuckled, and looked at their children as Thea did the same, still gently caressing his face, although her eyes weren’t on him.

“They are copying you,” she decided.

Sam couldn’t even deny it. They most likely were copying him, indeed.

Dittie stood up and Dean did the same, both walking to the kids.

“You two go get ready for your date day,” his wife instructed. “We are going to give these three a bath.”

Sam chuckled.

“It’s just a date night,” he corrected her.

“Then make it a date day,” Dittie rolled her eyes, picking Bobby up while Dean did the same to Rufus and Mary. “You deserve it. Go walk around hand in hand, have fun! You can come back after dinner and tell us all about it.”

He looked at Thea, who was watching his face, interested, though hesitant.

Sam could see it in her eyes, how she actually wanted to do it, but couldn’t quite say it herself.

"Go dress up," he tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger.

She jumped out of his lap, excited, and kissed his cheek a couple of times before skipping out of the kitchen.

Dittie giggled, and bit her lip, looking happy.

"You should get her some of the gelato they sell in front of her favourite art store," she told him very quietly, as if Thea wasn't supposed to hear that. "She loves their salted caramel flavour."

Sam nodded.

"Note taken," he stood up, and leant in her direction, placing a soft kiss over her hips. "Thank you, baby."

"Have fun, you two," she wished. "I can tell she'd been looking forward to spending time with you."

Sam sighed, still feeling a sad that he hadn’t noticed that before.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked, trying to make sure everything was okay. They usually spent the weekend all together, as a family.

"Oh, don't worry," she looked back at Dean, who was kissing Mary and Rufus' cheeks into oblivion. "I'm sure we'll find something to do."

Sam smiled, and raised his eyebrows when he realised his brother wasn't just kissing the babies, but cleaning their faces. By eating the food on their skin.

Yes, a Bronze Age father indeed.

When it came down to it, however, Sam knew they weren't too different. Dean and him  were dedicated fathers who wanted the best for theirs pups, and husbands who loved their wives.

Honestly, the thought of today secretly had his pants tightening a bit. He knew quite well that Dean was going to have fun being home alone with Dittie, and something was telling that this date day with Thea was going to be making both their lives a lot better, and their day very interesting.

. . .

"Bonding" an interlud places between "The bunny way" and "the wolf way", and it was posted on my Patreon in February 2022. To read the birthday specials, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month, I post 6x a week and I know you won't regret it.

. . .

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[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Younger Gods: Chapter VIII

Master List Chapter 7

Morpheus x fem!reader

The King of Dreams learns new fears, and old horrors still breathe.

Warnings: Blood, violence, body horror

IMPORTANT INFO IN BOTTOM A/N. Trust me. READ IT.

Chapter 8: Better Things to Fear

She’d spent the past hour in the window. Settled on a bench below the open frame, she crossed her arms along the sill and dropped her chin to rest on them.

For that hour, it was good to exist. To quietly be as the gentle storm unfolded in sheets of water and wind. So, she sat and breathed in the smell of her pocket world. The faintest drizzle danced in rings over the puddles, and falling rain gave each leaf a fresh shine in the afternoon light.

She couldn’t hear the melody with the windows closed, but she’d just dried her hair after a bath and didn’t want to go through the motions again.

The fire across the room warmed her back as the breeze carried the shower’s song and subtle scent to her senses.

She could be happy like this.

She was happy.

Her scene’s cozy melancholy suited her, washing away cares drip by drip so she had space for dreams. They grew like weeds, unchecked, fed by the comfort and quiet.

As her eyes drifted shut, she saw one Dream in particular.

He always looked so sharp in the grey haze, a little more concrete than everything around him. Firm and fast, untouched by it all, but present and attentive. It was like he dressed for the occasion, with his big coat and upturned collar. He wasn’t always that way, not in her dreams, but he chose apparel good for walking when he came to visit. When he came to see if she was safe, and his coat became one of the warmest, softest things in the world. At least to her. It could – and did – rain all day, and he never seemed to mind, even when it stormed.

If he gave her nothing else, never set foot in her home ever again, she might be happy with the memories she’d gathered. She might be satisfied with everything he’d already offered.

She could hope for more without believing in her dreams. She’d strung a hammock of fantasy between hope and belief, and she found it perfectly snug.

Their last encounter seemed like something from the hammock, honestly, and it tugged on the ropes until they frayed with worry. Had he really said that? Did she misunderstand? How should she address it when he came to call again?

Her eyes flicked open, filled with the dancing lavender in her garden as her dreams remembered gravity and sank back to earth. Reality plucked at the loose threads a bit more as she listened to her quasi-permanent houseguest fiddling around in the living space.

Since when did she think of Dream’s visits as ‘coming to call?’

House calls, more like. A doctor visiting an ailing patient on their deathbed, soothing them as best he could before they passed, because they both knew he couldn’t fix this. All his best intentions could only make it worse.

A mug appeared by her elbow, startling her from the morbid bent of her thoughts.

“Watching for someone?” Taliesin lifted his own mug to hide his grin as she glowered over her shoulder.

He wasn’t worth the effort. Neither was the tea. Sleep deprivation was getting to her. Months without rest. Again. Without the Nightmare King hunting her as a potential threat to his realm, her paranoia wasn’t as bad, but fatigue reigned in place of adrenaline. She’d have to take a potion soon, and then Taliesin would all but stitch himself to her side.

The quiet had been nice. She dropped her cheek on her arms and closed her eyes. “Just listening to the rain.”

“Listening or dozing?” He flicked her nose, and she put all her growing agitation in her answering snarl. “Drink your tea, dear.”

“Drink your own damn tea.”

“Oh, I will, but you aren’t supposed to be sleeping, no matter how much you miss the Lord of Dreams.”

This motherfucker.

She sat up, awake and angry about it. The constant ache in the side of her neck made itself known, roused by all the movement, and her mood soured further.

All to smug, Taliesin took a long sip, just to prove his point, and she pushed herself to her feet. The moment was over. Taliesin was in one of his moods, and there would be no peace under her roof.

Her rain jacket waited on the hook, and she yanked it on as she stomped on her first boot.

“Going somewhere?”

“Anywhere.” Happy to address the floor over her friend, she worked on her second boot without bothering to glance at him or his fucking tea. “A walk. Outside.”

“Ah, a brisk walk is good for a young thing in love.”

She’d never breathed a word of her appreciation for Lord Dream, but in the months since his last visit, the bard had riddled out the meanings in her silence, pulled the things she never uttered from the void, and he’d stitched it all together to make an amusing little tale. The storm god in love with the Endless, the Endless who stooped to carry her through the rain and get her blood on his hands as he held her hair. He pretended everything imaginable happened before he and Matthew returned home during Dream’s last appearance.

He was dying to taunt a reaction out of her.

Fine.

She’d give him one.

The door slammed behind her, and she marched into the darkening meadows with no intention of returning for the foreseeable future. Comfort and shelter be damned. Time out in her elements would energize her, and the bard may find time to make himself useful making a potion or three to help her stay awake if she wasn’t within earshot.

Raindrops pattered over her hood as a gale stirred to life in her wake. A perfect cocoon of sound and sensation gathered close, sending the long grass bobbing under her fingers, blotting out noise beyond the singing wind, stroking her face with droplets whichever direction she turned.

The weather’s embrace followed her through the meadow and up a hill. Out of sight from the cottage windows, she slowed, the contentment of the open window returning. Her storm, her world, her safety. A place made for rambling afternoons and nights hushed by rainy lullabies.

The wind had something to say. She stopped to listen, breathing in the secrets stolen from whispers by a passing breeze, the murmurs of old trees and new grasses – a raven’s cry.

The squall dropped, and a great black bird appeared in perfect silhouette against the silvery clouds, directly overhead.

“Matthew?”

His croaks echoed in the sudden quiet, echoing off the distant trees to fill the meadow with a murder’s worth of alarm. As he spiraled lower, he’d never looked quite so much like a portent of doom. Matthew was the funny one. The annoying one. She’d never felt frightened of him before, never felt this frisson of terror setting her hair on end. But the closer he came, the louder he cried, the faster her heart pounded.

One for sorrow. No, that was magpies, wasn’t it?

The raven didn’t land. He flew directly into her chest, ebony claws scratching up her raincoat as he fought for purchase, still cawing, kept half-suspended by fluttering wings.

“Whoa! Hey!”

She grabbed him on instinct and caught two armfuls of panic, feathers, and claws. As she wrestled down his wings, he fought for balance and control – like he forgot for a moment that he came to her, like he needed to escape the one he’d come to find. Talons raked down her arms just as she pinned his wings, drawing blood and a yelp of pain.

The noise startled the bird back to himself, and he looked up from her hands – she held him well away from her face – looking small and breakable, like the day they first met. Hurt. Alone.

He needed her help again, and she was afraid to imagine why.

“Matthew,” she panted. “What the fuck?”

Black plumage fluffed like a mane, an avian instinct to look bigger against an adversary, but with Matthew’s human instincts, it could mean anything. Some emotion he didn’t know how to explain with beak and wings and feathers.

Then he found his voice.

“He’s gone!”

She dared to pull him just a few inches closer, now that he had himself under control. More or less.

She didn’t understand.

“Who’s gone?”

“The boss! Dream!” The raven practically screamed the name, fighting to flex his muscles against her iron grip, trying to flail and gesture with the inhuman body he’d forgotten he had.

It didn’t make sense. The words dripped out of her ears, refusing to sink deeper, to deposit meaning.

“I don’t understand.”

“Lord Morpheus! Dream of the Endless! He’s gone!”

Her hands spasmed, and Matthew writhed right out of her grip and onto the wet ground. He landed with a plop and stood with a squelch, muttering curses as she tried to reason through the names, puzzle through the impossible.

Dream could not be gone.

The fear in her heart wasn’t the only reason. The world would end somehow, not just because she –

The raven meant something else.

Dropping to her knees, she slammed her hands into the ooze. Thin white roots peeped up with the mud between her fingers as she brought herself as close to the raven’s level as she could. She didn’t care anymore if some animal part of his brain saw her as a threat. Something threatened them all, and she needed him to explain it to her.

“Matthew.” Despite the mounting dread, she used his name softly. Firm, but only as firm as a rope thrown into a boiling sea for a drowning sailor to grab. A line to safety. He shivered on the ground, speckled in brown after his fall, but more aware for it. “Tell me what happened.”

The raven spoke. He coughed up a tale, interrupting himself with croaks and caws, beginning with fear and ending in panic. A chariot, an invisible realm, his master’s departure, and the long silence that followed.

“It’s been days.” His voice sounded raw, like he’d been screaming, or he’d forgotten to drink in those days since Dream disappeared to fight the intruders. “Nothing’s happened. It’s just the waiting, and maybe that’s worse. Something must’ve happened, right?”

It sounded like battle tactics, honestly. Leaving the enemy to question themselves, giving order time to dissolve and defenses to lower. All the while, that low murmur of anxiety scratching away at the Dreaming’s resolve until the desperate creatures within cracked.

She agreed with Matthew. Gods help her. “Something must’ve happened.”

Matthew lifted his wings, once again forgetting they weren’t human arms. “So? What are we gonna do?”

Rescue him, of course. But how? With what army? She glanced at the hill between them and the cottage, where Taliesin waited. Still drinking his fucking tea, she bet. She’d rather he stay there. Her fingers ached to pick at the loose threads of the sweater she wore under her raincoat, but it wasn’t like she kept a suit of armor at home. She had nothing to help. Only herself. What could she do against creatures strong enough to subdue an Endless?

Matthew, reading her expression, croaked dejectedly.

He came to her for help. There was no one else. He came to her. On purpose this time.

She crossed her realm, skipped through the void, and dared the wrath of an Endless once just to get him home safe.

Whatever waited over the heart of the Dreaming, could it really be worse than the Nightmare King’s shadow?

Matthew chose her.

Dream chose to help.

It was her turn to choose, but she’d never doubted the path at her feet, not from the moment the raven cried his master was gone. She only wondered how she’d possibly follow it up the mountain ahead. Determination and obstinacy alone wouldn’t get her to the top. She’d need wings for that.

But she’d try.

She didn’t want to imagine a world without starry eyes and whisper-soft words she fantasized into confessions. Even if the world could survive without the King of Dreams, she didn’t want it to.

And since she really wasn’t ready to die yet, that left one option.

“Fly back to the Dreaming.”

Matthew hopped in place, raging. “You aren’t coming? What the hell, Storm Crow? After all Lo – ”

“I never said that,” she interrupted quickly. He shouldn’t waste his energy on this. She may need him. His master definitely would. “Meet me at the gates where I left you last time.”

“But – ” The bird blinked, flapped, stilled. “Oh. Oh, right. Okay. See you in a sec, then.”

He launched into the sky, and she waited until she’d lost sight of him before reaching for lightning to take her back to the shores where this chapter of her life began. Bright to the touch, it scorched her imagination as the flash of electric power sparked in her mind. It was like calling for a friend across a crowded room, murmuring a prayer, and tugging on a leash all at once.

A patch of cloud overhead turned black, and white light forked down to touch, lift, and touch down again somewhere new.

She only stumbled, keeping her feet in the black sand as Matthew swooped down from his perch on the gates’ carving of the Dream Lord’s helm

Unlike the last time she stood on this shore, the gates stood slightly ajar. She wondered if the invaders entered that way, or if some fleeing dream left them open on their way to safer lands. Matthew fluttered to her shoulder, and she tried not to jump as his claws sank through her clothes to prick her skin. He hunched low, nestling against her ear, and she realized that somehow, in the past few minutes, she’d become the familiar’s comfort blanket. He’d be hiding under her hair in a minute, she just knew it.

The gap stood just wide enough to admit her. She slipped through, shoulder first, and shuddered as the stink of fear rose to greet her. The Dreaming’s sky was slate-grey. Not exactly cloudy, but no sun shone down, even though daylight bleached away the shadows where shyer nightmares might hide. The smell, though – sweat-soaked clothes, a child’s soiled sheets after a night terror, the stink that came before blood and pain.

The creatures of the Dreaming hid in the village, in the woods, in the farthest corners their feet could carry them to. Cloying silence filled the streets in their wake. As she moved down the road towards the palace, she looked for them, for anyone to ask for further details, to warn in case something went wrong. But she was a stranger to anyone but Matthew, and as much comfort as she gave the bird, she must horrify anyone else.

The absence of sound clung to her skin like dust from a dry dirt road. It wanted to sink inside, grow into a deep-seeded sense of dread she could never wash off without flaying herself alive.

True to her suspicions, Matthew ended up with his feathered head pressed against her scalp, hiding as deep in her hair as he physically could. Poor thing. She stroked his back as she pressed on, studying the abandoned scene and watching the sky. So far, she hadn’t seen the chariot, but Matthew intimated she’d be able to sense it, and she imagined she could.

When she was afraid, she had reason to be. She didn’t jump at shadows unless they hid something powerful and angry – or unless she was wildly sleep deprived from avoiding those shadows.

But even in her current state, she recognized the trilling, high note of fear piercing her ears as something outside herself.

It wanted to make her afraid.

She understood terror too well for that. No matter how awful, it wasn’t hers.

Matthew quivered, beak scraping her ear as he muttered, “It’s there. Right over the palace. Can you see it?”

She looked away from an upturned basket full of rotting, gem-colored fruits. They oozed awful black ichor through their perfect, rainbow skins, like the trees they grew one had been possessed.

She squinted at the sky again, and spied the faintest edge of wrongness giving an impression of a shape.

“I think so.”

Slowly, but so very bravely, Matthew scooted down her shoulder and out from under her hair, taking a few tangled bits with him on accident. He fluttered to perch on a fencepost and mirrored her position looking up at the grey nothing threatening his home and master.

“What now?”

She wished he’d stop asking. She hardly knew herself.

“Can you just – you know – zap up there?”

“No.” A general idea of where she was going wasn’t enough. “I have to see where I’m going, or I have to know the place. That’s why I came back on the shore. That’s why we had to walk.” She also had no idea if she could safely land on something besides solid ground. She’d never tried.

“Oh.” The raven shifted. Foot to foot. Anxiety in motion. “Then… what?”

What could she do?

She paused. Her thoughts caught on the idea, and she went still, fixed on the hidden shades of her own question.

What could she do?

She’d tapped so little of the power she inherited from her father, she actually had no idea what she was capable of. She never wanted it. Hadn’t needed it. Her little home was good and warm. Her small storms filled a small world, and she asked for nothing else.

Well. Things had changed.

Her feet would not carry her into the sky. But maybe she could change to meet the challenge.

The air pressure shifted. Wind disturbed the dead quiet, and new shadows crept over the sun. She breathed with the shift, giving and taking what the mounting storm offered in return.

Clouds moved like a second sea, rushing as waves towards an invisible shore. Lightning shot in bright veins through the charcoal surf, and she basked in the mounting energy. It charged in, from, and through her.

Looking at Matthew, who kept one eye on the gathering clouds, she said, “You know the name you gave me? Stormcrow?”

The bird twitched, and a bolt reflected in his onyx eye.

“Yeah?” His voice didn’t crack, but it was a near thing. He sidled in fluttering steps against the wind, wings clamped tight to his sides as the storm’s breath tossed his feathers into disarray.

Mist filled her lungs, and she tried not to flinch with the electricity that followed. It illuminated her from the inside out, scalding hot and perfect. The more she released, the more she felt the chaos nestle in her chest, like a satisfied cat making itself at home with its claws.

All this time, she’d felt the power as an other, a stranger in her body at the edge of her consciousness, an alien gift she didn’t want. She didn’t nurture it like the skills her mother passed along. She didn’t explore it as she had the fae magics she stole from her captors. But now she needed it, even if she didn’t want it, and it felt better than she could have dreamed. Familiar, like the rain over her cottage or the clouds that followed her in the waking world.  

It was the same storm. It was all storms. She knew it, and it knew her. All she had to do was reach, and it roared willingly to fill her need. Together, they could be anything, and at the moment, she needed to fly.

“I can’t tell fortunes.” She spoke to Matthew, even if she didn’t take her eyes from the gathering tempest. “But maybe I can honor your gift another way.”

The great waves coiled tight, dragging in the colors of sunrise and sunset to glow in feathered sweeps between tornado-green and thunderhead-black. The whole sky pulled around her shoulders, and she stretched with an arching flash of electric light that sent her shadow across the horizon.

She spread her wings.

Fog rolled from the tips as the shapeless clouds bent and curved to obey her call. They moved within themselves, surging into form. Into freedom. Her wings spanned the breadth of Dream’s palace. They could span the world if she wished.

Matthew croaked, hopping back as the wind folded into her wings, leaving him mussed but steady again. “Holy shit.”

She laughed, shaking, heart fluttering in shock and elation. “Stay here, birdie. I don’t want you to get caught up in the storm.”

A gust of wind sent him hunkering low, and he scoffed. “Too late for that, isn’t it?”

Her wings flexed up, reaching to cup the air in a first, mighty sweep, and red sprite lightning danced over the Dreaming.

“It hasn’t even started yet.”

Matthew took the hint, hopping down to hide behind a garden wall, and she tore her eyes away from her little friend, trusting him to take care of himself. He’d listened. He came to her for help and he’d trust her to deliver.

The downstroke sent her soaring. Her stomach dropped out of her body, like she’d crested the first hill of a rollercoaster. The wind became her world, the pockets of hot and cold fueling her chaos, and the air grew claws to tear tears from her unprotected eyes. But she kept her gaze fixed on the place that didn’t belong, and the nearer she came, the easier she spied it.

The chariot couldn’t hide so neatly in the cloudburst. Rain and hail pinged off the borders, and lightning struck its reflection. The storm was her beast, coiling and rippling with restrained devastation at her feet. It growled as she climbed.

Frozen rain captured static bursts – infant lightning gathering strength – and pinned it to her chest. The ice spread, sparking with blue light. I grew into a cuirass, armor for the battle, wrapping her up in a bit of power she could take with her into the unknown.

Only a few more beats of her wings, and she arrived.

Though her storm revealed the chariot’s shape, she couldn’t see a door. The invisible mass flexed and shifted, she realized, and she wondered if doors grew at the whims of the owners, inviting in wayward strangers to suffocate within.

Clearly, Dream found his way in. And he didn’t have wings. As far as she knew.

She hovered an arm’s length from the edge, trying to ignore the sickly beat trying to overwhelm the natural rhythm of her pulse. Despite her churning gut, instinct said it wanted her here. The things inside hungered, and she offered a new flavor, something bitter and filling to curb their appetites for another hour.

Reaching out with a lone, tentative finger, she brushed the border. It gave, warm like viscera, cold like dark water under the ice, and her hand disappeared, sinking inside.

And then she didn’t have to worry about a door, because once it had hold of her, it pulled. It yanked her from the storm, swallowing her whole. Her wings fell apart as she left them, spreading out in a wailing squall across the Dreaming, but her armor remained intact. The trapped lightning fizzled against her skin, filling her with all the strange new senses she only just learned to acknowledge.

The ice around her torso gleamed in the dark, revealing her surroundings in bright flashes. There wasn’t much to see. The chariot must not know what to do with her yet. Suggested whispers of forms sketched out a hallway, unfurnished and flat. Nothing she recognized. Nothing she feared.

Might her hosts be too busy with the bigger fish to attend to the minnow in the net?

Even without their attention, their realm and influence pried at her mind, begging and coaxing her traumas to the surface.

The hallway didn’t change, but as she crept along the lifeless shadows, she smelled fresh air and apples. Sun-warmed earth and flowers too sweet for nature wafted down the corridor. Her brain jumped to follow the sensory triggers, calling her to picture the dappled sunlight under the great ash tree, taste blood where she bit her cheek to stay calm as she smiled.

Her fear tried conjuring the weight of the collar.

She kept moving. There would always be time to fall apart later, and she had extensive practice walking with her fears. The chariot could hurt her, but it couldn’t stop her. Not so long as she had a goal, a star to follow.

Dream tangled himself deep in her fears. In the months since she returned to her home and submitted to his assistance in her dreams, he’d grown beyond the role of Nightmare King, but her thoughts still easily moved from terror to reflection by following the line of memory, winding from shadows on black sand to shared breaths pushing life into a new dream, one less lonely if wildly dangerous. Enough fear followed through their entire relationship to center him in her thoughts.

He was a creature of the night hours, and anyone who looked at him entirely without fear was a special kind of fool.

Yet, he was an ally. She would call him a friend.

The feelings urgently reaching with insidious roots beyond that title – friend – kept her trepidation alive, even as she grew comfortable in his presence and worried how he saw her rather than how he’d hurt her.

Goosebumps crawled over her skin, and fine hairs pricked up along the back of her neck.

Something noticed her, or acknowledged her.

The hallway vanished – or was she the one to vanish?

She stood in a dark chamber, stinking of damp and mold. No blink or pause. She didn’t stumble from the transition. It felt like she’d always been standing there, like she’d simply forgotten the walk, and she studied the stone room, trying to determine what memory it could’ve come from. Her terrors tended to bask in sunlight.

Then she saw him, and her breath caught in her chest.

Caught like a fly in the center of a web, Dream sat suspended in a glass sphere over a glittering circle of runes. Trapped, bare, and – as his eyes lifted to find her standing there – horrified. His brows lifted, pinched, and furrowed as surprise, understanding, and mounting panic cycled through his eyes. Springing onto his knees, he slammed a palm against the glass, lips rushing to shape words she couldn’t hear.

She’d never seen his eyes so wide. She’d never seen him afraid.

“Oh.” The vowel drew itself out, sticky sweet with pleasure as two gods stepped out of the dark behind the many pillars. Deimos and Phobos. The one with a human face, the one who spoke, smiled. “That’s new.”

They came from behind the glass prison, flanking Dream with one on either side, gradually closing the distance as their prisoner froze between them. Paralyzed as his eyes flicked to the harmless-looking man to his right. Deimos, she assumed. He stopped, stooping to meet his captive’s eye.

“Have you found something else to dread, Dream Lord?”

Lion-headed Phobos didn’t stop with his brother. He pressed on, and she switched her attention to the clear threat, shifting into a defensive stance, ready to… run? Fight? He’d tear her apart.

Although Dream was only a pale smudge in her periphery, she didn’t need to see him clearly to sense his warning. He struck the glass again with his open palm, and it echoed through the room like a bell.

Deimos crooned, “Please say you have.”

Opening his maw, Phobos rumbled with Alberich’s voice.

Where have you been? Did you think you’d escape your due? Poor little sweeting. It is for your own good.

She cringed, shoulders bowing under the weight of habit. Make herself small. Make herself unremarkable. And maybe they’d forget. For an hour. A day. A moment.

Faerie song and laughter sliced her ears.

Palms burning, she dimly registered a slow patter, like rain, from the stone at her feet. Something dripped from her fingertips, warm and familiar. Her eyes tracked down, following the sound, and found red dotting the ground. It caught in the electric lights bouncing off Dream’s prison like polished gems. She raised her hands to her face, thoughts going fuzzy with shock as bared muscle and bone met her eyes. A finger twitched, and naked tendons jerked.

Blood that had been falling from her fingers turned with gravity. It rolled down her wrists, painting her in ruby shades, drowning her to the elbows in her own gore.

It hadn’t killed her. She survived when Alberich skinned her hands. But her heart raced like there wasn’t enough blood in her veins to sustain it.

This time – this time it might –

No.

No.

She closed her eyes against the past and the violence history conjured in her flesh.

It wasn’t real. She’d suffered this vision before, and she’d come out the other side with her hide and new determination to escape. To live. Fear had never crippled her. It motivated action. Last time it motivated her to run from Dream. Now it drew her to find him.

She thought of Matthew and sank her nails into the scratches he left in her arms. She touched the angry, clotted gauges with hands whole and strong.

She remembered the quiet of the Dreaming, the fear rotting its way through the creatures who lived there into the hearts and minds of the dreamers.

She opened her eyes and saw Dream, trapped in his own horror. Caught. Hurt. In need. That concerned her far more than the false words of a dead king and memories of suffering.

Phobos growled, but the terror rang hollow. Formless. Impotent.

Lightning crackled over her heart.

Beside Dream’s cage, Deimos rose. The smile had withered into a honed smirk ready to cut her open and see what nightmares spilled out with her intestines. A hunter’s face. She’d broken their sway, and now she was prey in her own right. Maybe even a threat.

Something that needed killing.

His hand stroked the broad curve of Dream’s cage. The tap of fingernails on glass reverberated through her bones.

“Tell me, Lord Morpheus, would you like to watch my brother take your pet’s head from her fragile little shoulders?” He licked his teeth, sparing her a sharp look as he gave his words time to sink in. “I would.”

Phobos’s roar shook a shower of dust from the ceiling, and he sprang forward, more lion than man. His maw extended to unnatural proportions as he sailed towards her, filling her view. She didn’t even have time to shield herself with her arms. His weight struck her, carrying her to the ground as his mouth swallowed her world.

His teeth missed her neck, snagging on her scarf, and pierced her icy armor.

It shattered under the force.

Spears of lightning broke free, arcing into his throat, scorching his soft palate. It crackled through his sinuses, burning his tongue and gums black. Howling, he tore away, leaving her gasping but whole as he stumbled, blinded by pain. Her scarf, still caught on his teeth, went with him, leaving her twice as vulnerable without her frozen or knitted armor.

She rolled to her knees, scrabbled to her feet, panting and wide-eyed. Adrenaline sang through her, and every inch of her body tingled with electric energy. Instead of dissipating, the bolts returned, wreathing her in a flux of jagged light. As intrinsically hers as a thought. A touch. A dream.

Lifting her chin, she addressed Deimos, daring him to leave his prisoner and challenge her.

“I have better things to fear.”

Deimos drew a sword from the folds of his robe, glowering as he paced across the dungeon with murder in his eyes. He wouldn’t use his teeth to finish the job.

She backed up, eye on the blade as she moved and it lifted for the first swing. The first attack slashed straight down, like he wanted to cleave her in half. She dodged to the right, dancing to the edge of his range as Phobos’s howls filled the silence.

As his anger grew, Deimos closed the distance. Her resistance was a personal slight, an insult, and she’d dared harm his brother.

He didn’t swing again. He lunged to seize her throat. She wasn’t expecting it, and his hand closed around her neck. Jerking her close, he squeezed as his jaw unhinged like a snake’s and black, tar-like putrescence flooded his eyes. The black tears rolled down his face as he transformed from a pleasant looking young man to a ghoul. A final test of fear. A monster beyond death come to swallow her soul.

The tip of his blade pressed under her chin. He ignored the shocks from her sparking skin, and she didn’t turn the sizzling bolts against him. He didn’t matter. He was not the origin or focus of her fear.

Dream’s attention burned from his bright cell, and she had come for him. She turned her chin just enough to see him, gathering herself, reaching like she could close the distance as she hung in Deimos’s grip.

He was right there.

She sent the lightning to Dream, aiming through the glass to the hope dawning in his night-sky eyes. The power was light and life, quick and dangerous, but real. It was her. Proof of life. An open hand.

The bolt struck the sphere, and the entire rig – chains and all – shattered. The blast sundered the golden circle with a sunburst of cracks, and every bulb in the space exploded.

Instant darkness.

In the silence after the last shard of glass rattled to earth, the grip on her throat squeezed, and she finally turned her focus on the hand cutting off her air. It trembled with rage. With vengeance. Dream might’ve slipped his grip, but Deimos assured her with the sharp nails cutting into the back of her neck that she would not.

Her gasp didn’t reach her lungs.

Would he do his brother’s job and keep squeezing until he’d broken her spine?

The growing pressure assured her, he would.

And then the darkness spoke.

“You dare.”

New light, faintly golden like the rising sun, illuminated the wreck of Dream’s prison. It only served to cast the Endless standing there in sharper shadow. Darkness deeper than the void filled his voice. When the glass burst, he regained every precious thing stolen from his person. His black cloak writhed where it pooled on the floor, alive with his wrath, eager to strike.

Deimos glanced from Dream to the storm god in his hand, and she hissed, sinking her nails into his wrist. She knew the calculation in those eyes. She would not be a bargaining chip.

But the sword didn’t leave her neck, and Deimos moved to hold her like a shield, still dangling.

“Think carefully, Dream Lord.”

The shadows swelled, and the little light in the room haloed the Endless like an angry god. This was the creature who let loose sharp-toothed beasts in children’s dreams, the lord of sleep paralysis demons and night terrors. Master and epitome of humanity’s greatest fears. He sneered.

“Shall I think upon your trespasses, many and great as they are?”

His voice dropped low, rumbling in the stone, thickening the air until she imagined she could taste his anger in every measured syllable. “Shall I think of fitting punishments?”

He sounded closer.

Held with her back to him, she could only guess, but the minute quake in Deimos’s grip suggested she guessed right. The Lord of the Dreaming was coming for him, and he had nothing protecting him but her half-mortal skin. He moved the sword, pressing it against her jaw, threatening her jugular where Dream could see it.

“Kill me, I take her with me.”

“Kill you?” His voice carried a smile. Cold. Mocking. “You think me so merciful?”

Deimos dropped her, stumbling over himself to put more distance between himself and the tangible nightmare looming in the core of his ruined trap.

Her feet hit the ground hard, and her knees buckled as she hauled in a wet, coughing breath. Pale hands caught her shoulders. They pulled her up and tucked her against Dream’s side, where his cloak curled around close and secure.

But he wasn’t finished with his captors.

“You and your father’s chariot are banished from the Dreaming.”

She imagined she could feel the space moving, the little realm being spat out from the clouds over Dream’s castle and left in the void’s chill hold. Maybe she actually could.

“You will return home, though your course will be slow.”

From the corner where he’d curled to baby his wounds, Phobos stirred. She pressed into the reassuring sweep of Dream’s cloak as the lion-headed god climbed to his feet, panting, eyes fixed on Deimos. Deimos shuddered, blinking black tears as his fingernails grew into long talons.

“I gift you nightmares. I return the fear you visited on my realm.”

Quick as thought, Phobos sprang on his brother, teeth sinking into his shoulder as madness danced in his eyes. Whines mixed with growls, fear and pain and panic overriding all thought. Deimos scratched at Phobos’s eyes, raking vicious wounds across his muzzle.

“I shall leave you to your own mercies, give you time to play your games with each other like good brothers. Your father may keep whatever scraps of you are left.”

She turned away from the carnage, hiding her face just too late to avoid the pop and bloody spray of Deimos’s arm tearing free of his body.

A handful of sand stirred from Dream’s hand. As it engulfed them, she dared snare a handful of the Dream Lord’s cloak. They left the chariot, Deimos’s scream trailing in their wake.

The fading cry died in a rush of sunlight. Falling sand made way for glittering beams twinkling on the golden spires of Dream’s palace. She blinked in the new light. Breathed the clean air.

They were alone on the bridge before the gates, where the three great beasts were coming back to themselves, shaking, muttering, and looking distrustfully at the sky. A few shreds of her storm lingered over the blue, fading whisps of black dark as Dream’s hair.

“Are you well?”

She remembered her hand and quickly dropped the fistful of his clothes. Hadn’t she been the one to come to is rescue? Wasn’t that her question to ask?

“Fine. Are you…?”

“Well enough.” She only noticed the quiet softness wrapping his first question in the mirror of his brusque answer.

He stepped away, and she folded her hands behind her back. The urge to reach out again, to pull his cloak around her shoulders and hide under his arm like a child was a little to strong to leave her groping claws unoccupied.

While he glanced over the damage wrought in his absence, she tried to find a reasonable way of asking about his state of mind without pissing him off. She couldn’t ignore his rigid spine, the tick in his jaw as he looked for signs of his hiding dreamfolk. Just clinging to his cloak left her embarrassed and uncomfortable. And she didn’t have much pride left after years of Taliesin’s company. As a king, how could tell her here, in the open, what he thought when he saw her in the conjured basement? She’d be asking him to humble himself. He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

So, she took his cue and stepped back. His eyes flicked to her, guarded and hard with a frown tugging his face down. She swallowed and felt the telltale sting of bruising from Deimos’s grip. Better leave before they darkened. Even if she didn’t have much pride – well, she had a little.

And she needed a hug, frankly. Taliesin gave good hugs.

“I’ll… just… leave you to it… then.”

He opened his mouth to speak, reconsidered, and pressed his lips in a thin, flat line. He dismissed her with a nod, and she took three more steps before calling her lightning.

She heard Matthew’s happy caws welcoming his master home as the power tugged her up into the clouds. Away from the reunion. Out of the Dreaming and all the glory creeping back to its heart. Back where she belonged.

She tried to leave her fantasies in the summer sweet air of Dream’s realm, but even as she fled his cold eyes and hard rebuttal, she felt their chipped edges chafing the back of her mind.

----------------------------------------------

Hundreds of years projecting stories across crowded halls gave Taliesin incredible lung capacity. He used it in full when she stumbled home, scarf-less and weary in new and frightening ways.

If he wanted his pound of flesh before he’d sink to her level and cuddle, she’d suffer the lecture.

He railed for a full hour after her two-sentence explanation of events: “Deimos and Phobos took Dream. Matthew asked me to help.”

“And you did? You just left me here and went to face two gods on your own?”

“Yeah.” She was too shell-shocked to feel appropriately worried over his reaction. Somewhere between the chariot, Dream freezing her out, and returning to a perfectly normal afternoon in her modest little home, she unspooled. The fear and adrenaline deserted her. Her goal was accomplished. She began the day tired and found herself adrift. She only knew she wanted someone else to stuff her back inside her body, maybe tell her it was alright, that the bad things were over and they’d stay with her until she remembered the right way to feel her own emotions.

Taliesin went still and pale. Then, as a thousand concerns rushed to leave his lips in the same breath, he lost himself. He nearly choked on his rage. He abandoned his tea and everything.

The man became a storm of his own, a tirade switching from English to Welsh to French buffeting the cottage as his rain cloud sat on the couch, gingerly touching her own neck, searching for damage beyond the bruising.

Questing fingers found a knot of old scar tissue deep under the skin – swollen and sensitive. That made sense. Nothing to worry about.

Taliesin didn’t even notice, or if he did, it didn’t matter as much as everything he had to say. He called her a fool in a dozen languages and a “twitterpated idiot” before switching his ire to the raven. To Lord Morpheus. To the damn Dreaming itself. Eventually, he came found to the true culprits, all but spitting on the names of Ares’s sons while somehow making it her fault.

When he paused for breath – or new explicatives – she finally managed two words.

“I’m sorry.”

The bard puffed a short laugh, clawing at his wildly unkempt hair, like he’d find something to solve all his problems buried in the roots. “You aren’t though, are you? That’s the problem. You – I –” He growled, tugging at his grey curls with both hands. “You should’ve taken me with you. At the very least. When the hell did you become a… a knight errant? They could’ve killed you, rain cloud.”

“I know.”

“You –” Throwing his hands in the air, he stomped to his bedroom, cursing under his breath all the way.

The low fire whispered, chewing on a log with amber teeth, and a spitting rain tapped on the window. She didn’t move from the couch.

Alone at last, the last thing she wanted to be.

Without Taliesin’s shouting, her thoughts ballooned to fill the empty space. Loud whispers demanded she look back, remember the blood on her hands, the smell of Phobos’s cavernous maw, the pressure of Deimos’s sword under her chin.

Had she nearly died, just an hour ago? Two hours ago? Time felt sticky and uneven, a fingerpainted clock with two many hands and not enough numbers.

Her eyes burned, and her hands twisted together in her lap.

She still hadn’t put on a new scarf.

Her neck hurt very badly. It was getting worse, and she still desperately needed that hug.

But she didn’t want to cry about it, not where someone might see her. A cup of tea might fix things. She’d make two. Taliesin’s must be cold by now, and maybe he’d forgive her if he noticed the effort. She could drink hers in her room. Sit on the bed she’d never slept in.

Oh, yeah.

Her heart, buoyed at the prospect of tea, sank with the reminder. She still wasn’t allowed to sleep.

Fuck, did she want to, though.

But tea may help that, too. According to Taliesin, tea helped just about everything.

Treading on wobbly feet, she abandoned the couch. With one hand, she stoked the fire. The other lifted the kettle, finding it nice and heavy with water ready to boil.

As she moved to set it over the coals, the ache in her neck sparked into a brighter pain, like a fist turning into a knife, and her center of gravity wobbled. She didn’t trip into the fire, but it was a near thing. For a moment, she forgot where she was, what she was doing, overwhelmed by the familiar ghost of the collar.

“Taliesin.” She put down the kettle, her unsteady grip setting it on the hearth with a clatter. He was still talking to himself in the other room, muttering about something she couldn’t hear past the ringing in her ears. Louder, she shouted, “Taliesin!”

It cost her. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath again, and her throat clenched tight. As the room began to spin, she caught herself on one knee, groaning against the unbearable pressure in the side of her neck. The knot jostled under her skin, out of time with her heart, and the pain lanced deeper as she coughed, desperate to fill her lungs.

“What have you – rain cloud?” He paused, looking for her. When he spied her on the floor, he found some new curses to throw, but he was all gentle, calloused hands and anxious eyes as he fell to his knees at her side. “What’s happening? What’s wrong.”

Panting quick, inefficient wheezes, she lifted a hand to her neck. Maybe he could see the bump. Cut it out or find a potion to reduce the swelling – she needed help. Pulling enough oxygen to stay conscious took all her strength, and the pressure just kept getting worse and worse.

His eyes widened about the same time her fingers brushed something wet. Blinking slowly, she pulled a bloody hand to face for the second time that afternoon. Only this time it was no mere vision. Her very real blood smudged her very real fingers, and she realized in the cool clarity of dawning shock that she had a very real problem.

The lump flexed again, piercing through skin and stretching to curl like a vine under her jaw. She felt it moving, growing, and pain thick enough to gag on sent her eyes rolling.

The bard caught her as she teetered, chanting terrified questions she couldn’t understand well enough to answer. Another voice interrupted, distant and thin as late morning fog, but present. Insistent.

I will have what I am owed.

Angry, and hungry, and well-known to her.

Gods’ blood. Life beyond life.

But Alberich was dead.

She killed him.

A long time ago.

It didn’t make sense, and the pain confused her further.

Hurt, afraid, she pressed herself into Taliesin’s arms, every breath beyond labored. Each weaker than the last.

He picked her up, shouldering through the door into the rain before she realized he’d stood, and she just barely heard him mutter into her hair, “We’ll go to Lord Morpheus. Hang on. Keep breathing. He can fix this. He has to fix this. Hold onto me. Breathe, darling.”

She’d never noticed how cold her rain could be. Each drop licked down her face, stealing whispers of heat before it beaded and fell from her chin, her eyelashes, her nose. It didn’t fall very hard, and thankfully no wind drove it into her friend’s eyes as he bore her across the meadows and woods.

He walked a familiar path. Over creeks and through showers, under trees and over hills. She came this way once, with her arms full of a broken thing. This way led to Dream, she thought.

Her sky hung in grey limbo, a blanket of clouds masking the time of day with the sun kept prisoner behind. Too bright to be night. Undoubtedly day.

An entire day under the weak light – it took a day to walk out of her realm.

The rain washed her blood in watery red streaks down Taliesin’s jacket. Scratchy tweed under her cheek. Did he forget his raincoat? Would he be sick? He left his umbrella.

He wheezed, too. Stronger than an average mortal he may be, but he was no god, and he’s already carried her far. He had much farther to go.

She wished she could make it shorter.

But she hovered on the verge of asphyxiation, aware enough to cling with frozen fingers. Nothing more.

Another growth spurt sent the thing in her neck coiling around her throat, and even as she flirted with unconsciousness, she recognized the shape over her scars.

The collar.

“T – t – t…” She couldn’t say his name, only enunciate the first syllable, desperate, pleading, ticking like a broken radio.

Lucky thing Taliesin was a good listener.

He stumbled to a halt, setting her in his lap as he took her call as an opportunity to rest. “What is it, darling? Don’t try to speak, rain cloud, I –” He noticed the collar. It ringed about half her neck now, and she knew her assumptions were true when he groaned over her. “Oh, rain cloud. Oh no.”

Wiping the rain off her cheeks, he hiccupped, rocking her against his chest. “Just breathe.” He tucked her head under his chin, pressing a kiss to her hair, like his love would keep her heart beating, keep the light in her eyes as the great horror of her life rose from the past to consume them.

A warmer rain fell, his tears on her face, and she clung on with all her fading strength.

“T –”

He didn’t sob out loud, but she felt the seismic tremors tearing him apart as his whole body shook around her.

She didn’t want this, didn’t want his pain. But it was impossible to think past her own.

Sniffling, he got back on his feet, staggering under her weight. “Alright. Here we go.”

He marched on, his determined heart setting the pace under her ear.

Step by step by step by step.

The light faded. The clouds remained. White noise crept over her awareness in lapping waves, reverberating with a dead man’s voice.

She had to hold onto Taliesin. She had to hold on for Taliesin. But –

Slipping, slipping, slipping.

The collar grew, each slithering inch of growth stealing another breath. She could believe, in those half-conscious hours, she never escaped it. The magic moved too easily to hold her again, at home, an intrinsic part of life. A beautiful mark of suffering. Worse, she felt it under her skin, tracing through her veins with golden roots, looking for her heart, her organs, piercing and groping and thirsty.

How long could she last like this? Hanging on by her fingernails. The weight of pain, exhaustion, and panic pulling her down towards a darkness deeper than sleep.

Her head slipped from Taliesin’s shoulder to hang from the crook of his arm. He didn’t have energy to right her, and she’d long lost power over herself.

She hoped for stars, to imagine Dream’s gaze, but the sky denied her, and she closed her eyes against its rejection.

Night passed.

Taliesin struggled on.

“Nearly there. Alright. Deep breath now.”

Her diaphragm twitched, trying to follow the order, but the whistle of air creeping in and out of her lungs didn’t change.

He stepped into the void.

Nothing. No thought of light. No dreams. No hope, or despair, or air to struggle after.

His momentum carried them through, and immediately, everything was too much. For a moment, she’d been free of it, but the burden of her agony slammed into her all at once as they emergence on the edge of the Dreaming. Too bright, too painful, too real. She’d never felt so cold, and unmanageable shivers wracked through her. The motion finally tripped the bard, and he fell to his knees, half-dropping her in black sand.

No, no.

She wasn’t shivering.

She was seizing.

The boughs finished twining around her neck, meeting in a perfect, suffocating circle. Thorns like teeth sprang into her flesh, and a phantom hand squeezed her heart. It had taken her back. Reclaimed her as its hostage. And it had years of delayed punishment to inflict.

A single, breathless cry stole its way past the collar’s grip.

The knot in her neck released, filling her vision with gold, and as the dead king’s face rippled into view, she sank into the beckoning darkness.

----------------------------------------------

Dream sat on his throne, his fingers curled tight around the end of the armrests.

Surely, he was a fool.

When he asked the Fates about the little storm god, he listened for the wrong answers. They said a path stretched between them. He thought of her affect upon his kingdom, the threat of revenge after he met her kindness with threats. He thought of the collar’s curse following her into her dreams, potentially finding a foothold in his realm.

But the Fates did not say she shared a path with his realm.

A road led her to him. A road led him to her.

He followed it, and now, overlooking the Dreaming, escaped from the terror of Burgess’s basement a second time, he’d reached the terminus.

He closed his eyes.

How long had he been deceiving himself?

He recognized his guilt, his empathy for her pain, but a much fiercer emotion overshadowed those petty reactions.

When had this happened? How? He didn’t remember falling – or even stumbling – across that threshold. Yet there it was, twisting through his chest like a venomous serpent trying to swallow his heart whole. He’d fallen enough times before to recognize the symptoms.

Somewhere, he was sure, the Fates laughed.

When she appeared in the chariot, for a moment – a heart-stopping moment longer than eons – he thought of Jessamy. The last one who tried saving him. He saw ruby red on the glass, on the gold sigils trapping him, and he imagined it was the little storm god’s death instead.

No. Worse. He’d known it could be hers, that he couldn’t save her if Phobos sank his teeth through her flesh and let her heart pump and pump so her blood sprayed in bursts over his prison. Until the muscle stilled and her life drained with her pulse. Until he met her glassy eyes and knew he’d finally and utterly failed his promise to grant her kinder dreams.

Yes. Deimos and Phobos led him to discover a new fear, but as their influence ebbed, the charred façade cracked to reveal new hope.

She came for him.

The quiet little storm god with her tea and her sweaters, hiding away from the universe in her own realm. A woman afraid of so much. That creature. Matthew told her he was in danger and she didn’t hesitate to reach for powers she’d spurned to seek him out and break his chains.

If he was honest, affection bloomed long before. Seeing her easy comradery with his raven and her joy in dreams of cats seeded feelings that grew low and soft like clover over a spring field. It wasn’t the passion of grand bouquets and violet blossoms. They shared a kind, creeping thing, easy to overlook, but just as easy to find once noticed.

She dared rescue him. She dared offer tea and quiet in her world away. She dared care for him.

Fear had soured their parting.

He regretted his short words. But in the moment, the newfound awareness of what she meant to him, what he’d nearly lost, trammeled the urge to pull her tighter. So he’d stepped away.

The memory of the glass prison cut him off from relief, and it was only now, sitting in his throne room, the Dreaming repaired and his duties dispatched, that he truly acknowledged what he found in that cursed place.

Still, he took comfort in the fact she returned home. The ordeal had taken its toll on her as well, and the greatest threat to peace she’d find in her cottage was a mouthy bard.

Nothing terrible happened in her realm.

But even as he reminisced on the echo of wind chimes in the rain, he felt her.

And something was wrong.

His eyes flew open. The storm god, the bard, and something else appeared at the edge of his realm, tumbling in from the void. He could barely feel the storm god. Her consciousness flickered like a distant, dying star, gasping as the abyssal black of space closed in.

The cooling embers of his fear glowed with new heat, and with one step, he left his throne and appeared before the gates of horn and ivory.

He did not immediately understand the scene before him, and he picked out details gradually as he advanced on the players.

Gold spilled over the dark shore, heaving in a roiling shape similar to a man. It stooped low over something on the ground. The bard, on hands and knees, screamed. He knelt several yards away, hands clawing out as he called for his rain cloud.

Morpheus’s pace ate up the distance. He advanced with his own storm at his back, clouds like angry bruises rolling over the gates.

He saw her feet first, stretched limp on the ground behind the hunched golden figure. And as he approached, he saw more – a hand loosely curled, lifeless, and a face still as death. A golden hand covered half in a careless hold, using her features as nothing more than a handy grip. If he could not sense all in the Dreaming, he’d never know she was still alive.

Only just.

His sister might visit his realm at any moment.

Dread and rage flushed through his chest. Hot and cold. The storm growled with naked menace as he came to a stop a mere yard from the thing leaching the life from his storm god.

“Stop.”

He spoke with a voice like thunder. It filled the whole of the Dreaming, and every piece of it went still. Every dream. Every nightmare. Every nodding flower in Fiddler’s Green.

His command was absolute. The little storm god would not die. Not here. Not now. Not at his feet, on the shores of his kingdom less than a day after she risked all to liberate him from his own fears.

The man-shaped mass straightened and his liquid face pulled away from the collar – regrown entirely. His mouth stretched out like taffy, fasted to the writhing boughs until the last. When the connection dropped, the loose gold flowed back into the ring around the storm god’s neck, and the creature smiled at the Dream King with bloodied teeth. The red, the only contrast in his molten form, dripped over his lips.

Morpheus recognized his face. “Alberich. You are dead.”

“She is mine,” the ghost corrected. “Am I not owed by the laws? I was promised gods-blood, and gods-blood I will have.”

The collar tightened, a quick squeeze that visibly dented her flesh, and the storm god spasmed. Her right heel left a crescent mark in the sand, and righteous hate swelled to eclipse Morpheus’s fear.

The bard sprang forward with a battle cry. Tears rolled from Taliesin’s blood-shot eyes, and sand clung to his drenched clothes. He looked wild. Mad with grief and ready to face the monarch from whom his rain cloud once saved him.

Alberich swatted Taliesin out of the air like a fly, strong with the storm god’s life.

The bard tumbled aside, grunting when he hit the ground. But Morpheus loomed a step closer, and his shadow ran like ink over the ground. A wicked stain nipping at the dead fae’s heels.

“You are dead. You are owed nothing.” Alberich was no creation of his, but nor was he a living thing of the waking world. Morpheus lifted a hand and pulled at the threads of magic tethering the ghost to the storm god.

His heart broke for her as he felt her power swelling in the twisted golden body – part grisgol, part homunculus. Made of the collar, a curse, a ghost, and a captive’s life force.

Glittering flakes pulled away from the liquid gold to drift and fade in a wind of the Sunless Lands.

The ghostly king resisted, snarling, drawing from his captive faster to heal what Morpheus banished, but the King of Dreams followed the golden roots deep. They extended from the collar, under the little god’s skin, into her body, seeping blood and energy directly from her heart.

But that was not where the ghost had hidden. That was not the seat of the curse that chased the storm god into dreams.

He found the anchor in her neck. A golden shard. Older. Stronger. A physical thing left behind from her first escape from the sacred grove. He remembered walking the memory.

She’d stabbed Alberich in the heart, and then she’d turned the bloody blade on herself, shattering the collar.

Apparently in all the blood, in all the pain, she’d missed a piece.

A single thorn snapped off, deep in her flesh, and the king’s ghost nestled there. Manifesting as the collar in her dreams, trapped within her, he took a slow path to vengeance. He must’ve been siphoning her life by inches all these years. And now – now she had help, and an Endless seeking the answer to the curse’s riddle. He’d forced the dead king to action.

Now, he would force him to the place appointed for the dead.

Alberich struggled to hold his shape as Morpheus knelt beside him – knelt beside the storm god – and reached for her neck. The collar grew brittle as is owner drifted away in flakes, and it fell apart under his hand.

The fae king shrieked, trying to cling to his prize with crumbling fingers, but Morpheus paid him no mind. His storm god’s cold skin mattered much more. The hole in her neck through which the collar and the king regrew demanded his full attention. Quickly, carefully, he explored the wound. At least she wouldn’t register the pain as he pushed aside muscle and sinew to find the small, hard object hiding there.

He found it.

He pulled it free, frowning at his bloody fingers as the sharp metal gleamed in the dim light. A thought crushed it, and with the physical link to his victim destroyed, the last shade of King Alberich collapsed in on itself. His rage whistled away in a thin, distant cry. The wind swallowed it as the gold drifted. Disintegrated.

Although she remained unconscious, the storm god seemed to relax, sinking ever so slightly into the sand as the tension drained her body.

Her ordeal was finally over. She would have her dreams. Her life.

She freed him. He freed her.

And he sat on his knees with her blood on his fingers, wrestling with a new weight on his chest as he felt her soul, fluttering and vulnerable, like a sparrow fallen to earth after escaping the ravaging claws of a hawk.

The bard rushed to her opposite side. He touched her wrist, her neck, looking for signs of life. Wet eyes looked up at Morpheus. “She’s hurt.” The bard swallowed, and his voice trembled when he continued, “She’s hurt very badly.”

Morpheus felt his own tears threatening to spill. Relief and hope cut sharp some days. He felt them keenly, all the more for the lingering fear that even now he may lose her.

“I know.”

Would it be better to send her home again? To the realm where he believed no harm could find her?

Should he keep her in the Dreaming? To recover? Where he would know her heart still beat and any threat must pass through his gates, his guardians, and himself before touching her?

Perhaps it was selfish. But he couldn’t stomach the idea of parting just now.

Besides, she still needed his aid, and he was eager to help.

Without warning the bard of his intentions, he scooped the storm god into his arms, summoned his sand, to took the three of them to a new suite he imagined in the palace even as they appeared there. A simple room with a large bed and a roaring fire. High windows welcomed the daylight, silently begging the woman in his arms to wake, and two chairs flanked the bed, ready for a long wait. Taliesin immediately dropped into one, scrubbing his face with his palms as Dream settled his burden on the bed.

“I have potions,” he said, muffled, still buried in his own hands. “It’s a long walk back.”

Morpheus looked again at the bard’s dripping curls, his damp clothes, and the rusty red streak creeping down from his shoulder. He’d carried her, then. A day’s walk through the rain to find help. Exhaustion weighed down his expression as his hands fell away, and Morpheus nodded. Confirmation and thanks.

“I will provide enough sand for the journey.” A wave of his hand created a little vial. It appeared between the bard’s fingers, and he didn’t wait for thanks, sending Taliesin on his way with a gust of sparkling grains.

They had no time to spare for pleasantries.

The little storm god was free.

The little storm god was dying.

Alone with her, he succumbed to the urge to sit at her side, to brush the sweat-stuck hair from her face and stroke the deepening circles under her eyes. It wasn’t enough. He leaned nearer, listening to her lungs slowly draw air, focusing on her heartbeat like the intensity of his presence would keep it pumping what little blood remained in her veins.

He let his hand wander. Along her cheek. Over the shell of her ear and her wet hair until he cradled the back of her head. Words came to lips, words only for her, though they could not reach the grey spaces through which she drifted. The words tumbled free regardless.

“You have fought valiantly.”

He wanted to hold her, but soon the bard would return. And there was much work to do before she was truly safe.

But she was cold.

With his spare hand, he gathered up both of hers, clasping them to chest as he warmed his corporeal form. Once her wounds were dressed and Taliesin’s potions filled her belly, he’d cover her in blankets softer than swan’s down.

“Only a little longer, and you can rest – truly rest – and I will keep my promise. I shall fill you sleeping hours with the sweetest dreams.” He set his lips against her hair. Not quite a kiss, but the wish of one. “You need only fight a little longer.”

He closed his eyes, listening to her struggle. Listening to her live. It was enough, even if he wanted more than anything to watch her eyes open, to speak with her, to garner permission to pull her into his lap and hold her together against his chest, in the circle of his arms.

Taliesin returned. He rushed to the bedside before the sand dissolved, a case full of cures and bandages in hand.

Morpheus lifted the patient long enough for Taliesin to pour one of his concoctions down her throat, stabilizing her before the healing began in earnest. Next came warm water, towels, and ointments to clean the vicious wounds in her neck. Needle and thread stitched her whole, and after another potion to help replenish her blood, there was nothing more the bard could do.

And then there was only time. And distance. An undeniable ache that breathed with him, flaring and fading in turns, but inescapable as thought.

Light streamed through the windows in fits. He didn’t want her to wake in the dark, but the Dreaming echoed his temper. As his mood turned, so did the skies, and it took conscious effort to clear the gathering clouds. So he would sink in his thoughts, his worries, his unpronounced cares, and storms rolled in. When he’d come to himself with a clap of thunder, he’d remember his intent, and the sun would return. Only for his anxieties to swallow him again.

The bard noticed the cycle. He didn’t comment. Not for an entire day, but as Taliesin came to realize the night would not come, and that the Dream King struggled to keep the light shining on them, he broke his silence.

“Lord Morpheus.”

The Endless looked across the bed. Eyes softened by fatigue and concern met him, evoking a weary grace in the bard’s expression. The bard’s typical, mischievous twinkle gifted his face more youth than his years deserved, but now he nearly looked his age, wise and old as a sacred oak tree.

Gently, as if Morpheus was the one bandaged and lost beyond dreams, he said, “A little rain can be a good thing.”

His lips parted, expecting a response, but he found himself voiceless. His function entailed seeing into the minds of dreamers, knowing them and their hidden truths without discussion or introduction. He wasn’t used to being perceived in kind. It wasn’t dissimilar from the night Hob Gadling first suggested he was lonely, that he’d sought and developed a friendship with the man.

Closing his mouth and clenching his jaw, he swallowed the feeling, determined not to mourn a love that may yet have a future.

He listened to the bard’s advice.

Relaxing his shoulders, letting some of the swirling distress in his core spin over the sun, Morpheus gave the storm its head. He closed his eyes and listened for the first drops to fall.

It wasn’t a tempest. Only a rainstorm. Enough to drive people indoors, around the fire, enough to give them an excuse to talk and work on handicrafts as they waited for the weather to pass.

Good weather for tea, even if one didn’t drink tea.

She gave him a mug simply to keep his hands warm. Now he watched a bruise darken over her cheek. Where the dead king clutched her face so he could leverage it away from her neck – her neck covered in bandages, dotted with rosy spots of blood.

But it was working. Her heart beat stronger. Her chest rose and fell with clear, full breaths.

Even as he sat by her side, he wrapped his essence around her, listening for her return.

The rain washed away another day, and eventually the singing rhythm of drops on the windows sent the bard to sleep. Dream kept his vigil. Hours passed. The rain lingered.

And then – he felt her.

He rose from his slouch in the high-backed chair, rose from the chair altogether and moved to follow the siren song of the storm god’s sleeping mind.

Her dream welcomed him in a dark forest, very much like the place he first brought her in a dream of cats. Nostalgia beckoned, but he had no time for memories. He did not see her in the forest, and he tread softly through the underbrush, looking for some trace with his eyes as he reached out to touch the fabric of her imagined sanctuary, searching…

There.

Curled under a log, the little barn cat dozed, tucked into a perfect circle with her tail draped over her nose. He knelt, blinking against the warmth in his eyes as he felt her. Warm and safe again. Unhurt. Whole.

It wasn’t enough. He needed to hold her. To know without a shadow of a doubt that she’d pulled back from the edge of death. To touch hope.

Ever so softly, he reached into her hiding place and lifted her from the leaves and moss.

She cracked an eye open with a sleepy “Prrbbpptt?” in question and protest.

“You are safe,” he murmured, cradling the little cat close to his chest, enfolded and secure.

Even half-aware, she knew him. With a yawn and a stretch, she resigned herself to her new position, stuffing her face into the fold of his arm.

Careful not to jostle her, he stood. He drifted through the forest on his way to… somewhere warm perhaps. It was her first dream without his guiding influence, and she would manifest what she desired. In the meantime, he found himself perfectly content to wander under the trees with the soft bundle of fur pressing into his hold.

He heard the chimes first, faint notes bouncing between the trees, and he canted his head with a knowing smirk. Like all dreamers, she looked for home. He suspected what he would find long before following the random melody to its source.

The chime wood of her dreams took inspiration from her waking life, but it took on grander forms in her dreams. The chimes did not just hang from the trees. Some of them were trees. Smaller instruments hung from ordinary branches, but the largest stretched into the balcony, disappearing in a cloudy haze of fog and pine boughs. They created a sense of floating motion, the peace just before sleep, and he absorbed a little of her love for the place. She was happy here. He would love it for that alone.

Instead of her modest woven shelter, a dome of living wickerwork spread between the trees. Stained glass grew between branches, all solid colors, each a different shade or tint, no two the same. Light poured through, soaking trees, chimes, and loamy ground in blues, greens, pinks, oranges, teals, and a dozen other hues. Each as lovely as the last. They made a holy space, and Morpheus became a part of it as he settled under the wall of color, bathed and blessed in the light.

It wasn’t the warmth he expected to find, but the storm god – still a cat – purred in his lap, and he decided everything was perfect just as it was.

Taking the happy rumble as her blessing, he ran a hand over her soft fur, from between her ears to the base of her tail, and the cat melted over his knees. She practically liquified in feline pleasure as Dream stroked along the same path a second time. Her purr crescendoed. A little ball of thunder reverberating under his hand.

A smile began in his chest, bubbling up to his expression, all the hope he’d guarded with defenses of iron and stone free at last.

As she crept towards lucidity, the little cat turned into a little storm god with her head on his lap. She didn’t notice at first, and he stroked her hair as her sleeping mind recognized itself. Then recognized the dream. And finally recognized him. She opened her eyes to find his smile waiting, glowing in the sacred light.

She licked her lips, shifting like she wanted to wriggle into a better position. But just as she twitched to move, she froze, realizing exactly where she was, like she might offend him if she moved. He soothed her with another slow brush over her hair, and his smile stretched as her eyes fluttered. Cat or woman, she enjoyed his touch.

Her gaze flickered over his face, searching as he’d searched for her in the brush.

“Am I dreaming?”

“Yes.”

She frowned, squinting, trying to recall memories he doubted she’d grasp until she woke.

“Something happened.”

He let his thumb drag along her cheek as he pet her hair again, as much for his comfort as hers. She was safe. She was here. Soon she’d rouse in the Dreaming.

“Yes.” Another stroke, another brush of skin. How could he bring himself to stop when she kept looking at him like that? “But you are safe now, and I will be at your side when you wake.”

That probing look roved his face, and he let her have the time she needed to hunt out her own feelings, to find her courage and relax into trusting lethargy.

Instead of pushing towards wakefulness, she whispered, “What if I don’t want to wake up?”

As much as he enjoyed the weight of her head in his lap, he recognized the gravitas hiding in her question. Fear, longing, and an alchemist’s cocktail of other overwhelming things powered her words. She deserved his full attention, a conversation. And he could not focus beyond the desperate want muddying his thoughts as she rested in that position.

So, he helped her sit up, still intimately close, but no longer supine, not quite so easy to touch and stroke and hold.

“All dreamers must wake eventually.”

Her hands fidgeted, thumbs rolling together, fingers picking and folding together and apart. He remembered all the little crafts and tasks scattered around her home and wondered if thoughts of him ever drove her to pick one up to keep those anxious hands busy in the dark hours.

“Maybe I want to stay with you.”

Long, pale fingers brushed over her twisting grip, stilling her, calling her eyes back to his. She could not remember what happened, but some shadow of the horror stained her, lurked in her subconscious, even if it did not manifest in her dream.

“I will be at your side when you wake.”

She finally heeded his call, looking up to his eyes from where his hand covered hers. His own hope stared back at him, growing bolder, swelling up from her heart, from the demure heat of linked hands.

“Like this?”

Yes. Like this. Close, and falling ever closer. There were too many ways to express it, and soon she would leave the dream, willing or not, so he took both her hands in his, holding her gaze as he bent to kiss her knuckles, offering an answer.

“If you will have me.”

Her joy rustled through the dreamscape as a breeze, sending chimes swaying, singing. It breathed over him like butterfly wings.

“Promise?”

He considered her, rolling his thumb over the back of her hand, clinging to their connection as she waited for a word. An oath. The first a thousand ties to bind them.

The breeze grew into a wind, carrying leaves in a rain of flying colors, and he followed the pull to her lips, meeting her in a kiss as the woods rustled and rang around them.

She met his promise with her own.

His first taste of her rushed with all the longing of a waking dream. Tea and petrichor. Soft as clouds. Bright as lightning.

He dropped her hands to hold her face, pulling her nearer still. Their lips pressed secrets and revelations into a dance. Into blooming warmth and an idea of a new path forward, free of darker fates.

They wove the promise together. He could have stayed in that moment another age, wrapped up in her scent, her flavor, her dreams. But this promise was only the beginning. So, as he drew her sighs, savoring them, he let the chimes fade, let the forest step back and the cathedral colors painting them dim.

Beyond sleep. Into the Dreaming.

And, at last, to waking.

EPILOGUES COMING SOON

A/N: Yes, there will be more! I'm working on the first (smutty) epilogue now. Each epilogue will be posted separately with appropriate age ratings so everyone can enjoy safely.

HAVE PROMPTS? My asks are officially open for Younger Gods epilogue ideas. I can't promise I'll fulfill all of them, but I'll do as many as I can. You can leave ideas in the comments, too!

I love you all. Thank you for making the writing of this story such a wonderful experience. <3

The best dreams to you all - Cuckoo.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x original character

[moonlightazriel]

2+2 /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: "Hey , Just read your new Fic and DAMN you nailed it 😭❤.....If your Requests are open Can u please consider my request of this one Like Azriel and reader have become newly parents of twins babies ( a boy and a girl ) And they slowly adjusting to their new life ...Azriel helping and taking care of reader and newly born babies....More of Dad and soft Azriel....And them being such a Loveyy doveyy Couple ❤🥺....I'm crying imagining this 😭💗"

Warnings: Mentions of blood, strees, pain and fluff

Word Count: 1,3K

Note: I'm obsessed with Dad!Az fics, i could spend my whole day only reading those.

Main Masterlist

“Push!” Madja shouted and i did, pushed with all my strength, my body felt weak and i was covered in sweat, the air smelled like iron, duo the amount of blood in my legs. “Again!” A scream ripped through my chest, and i felt all my muscles being stretched, Az was holding my hand and wiping the sweat off my forehead.

“You’re doing great darling.” He reassured me, a small smile on his lips, soon i felt something being pulled out of me and a baby started crying, i breathed relieved, the warm tears wetting my cheeks. But the pain was growing again, something was wrong, Madja handed the baby to another healer and got in between my legs again.

“The second one it’s coming.” I looked at Az, he was pale and his eyes were wide. I started pushing again, feeling a pressure in my belly and on my legs, another scream escaped my lips as a felt the baby being pulled out of me again. Madja got up, a tiny baby on her hands, crying loudly, she again handed the baby to be cleaned and checked up. She started working on me and when she finished the other two healers appeared, handing the babies to us. The biggest baby was a baby girl, and the other, a boy, he was so small, both had the dark hair, tanned skin and tiny wings. “I don’t know how he managed to stay hidden during these months, but he’s as healthy as his sister.” Madja stated and we smiled at the babies. Az looked at me in awe.

“You really know how to surprise somebody don’t you?” He said, he was completely shocked, a smile dancing on his lips but i could see his shaking hands. “I love you, and i love our family so much.” My heart was filled with happiness and love.

2 days later

I opened my eyes, as i heard someone crying, pulling the covers off me, i started to get up but Az was faster. He disappeared into the darkness and came back with the two, Nikolai was crying and Nova was awake, holding her father’s finger. “I think they're hungry, i checked and they're both clean.” Sitting on the bed, i grabbed Nik and pulled him closer to my chest, the baby started sucking like he was starving, Nova was i little bit more gentle, and Az seated by my side, his hands squishing my thigh. “You look so beautiful.” He said all of sudden, and i turned to him.

“You just saying that because you love me and you have to, if you don’t want to sleep in the couch.” He laughed loudly, and i felt his love through the bond. When i discovered the pregnancy, i knew he was worried that he might be a terrible father like his was, but Azriel was more than excellent, he was the first to run whenever our kids cried, he always made sure that i was comfortable and rested. I was glad my kids had him as a father, i knew that nothing would ever happen to them, he would always protect us, no matter what.

“It’s true ok?” He said, pretending to be hurt. “Even now, that you’re half asleep and with disheveled hair, you’re the most pretty female i’ve ever seen. No one can compete with you, and to be honest, wouldn't even be a fair competition.” I smiled at him, and he grabbed Nik as he got out of my breast, he got up with him, hitting his back softly to make the baby burp, i did the same to Nova. “Maybe we should let them sleep here tonight, just in case they cry again.” He said, laying down, Nik in his chest and Nova on mine.

When i woke up the next day, the three we’re fast asleep yet, i got up, trying not to make any noise. I got in the bathroom, taking a relaxing bath, thankfully i wasn't feeling any more pain, Madja was coming in today to check on me and the babies. Az and the kids were awake when i got out 1 hour later. “Morning honey.” I said and he turned his attention to me.

“Did you sleep well?” I nodded, reaching for Nik, getting him ready for the day, Az took care of Nova. 10 minutes later, were all having breakfast. “I’m gonna get Madja and if i remember well, the IC is coming to meet the babies today.”

“Did you told them?” He denied, and i smiled. He kissed my forehead and left to get to the healers hall. I putted the babies on their chairs, to clean up the kitchen, making sure everything was ready for the day.

Later

“Do you feel any pain?”

“Not at all, is everything ok?” I asked, a little worried, Az was by my side, to make sure i was comfortable.

“Everything is just fine, the kids are alright as well. Looks like Nik is stronger than we thought. I guees Nova’s wings just hidded him, i apologise again for the misunderstantig.” Az looked at her and nodded.

“It’s okay, we couldn't be happier with them, thanks to The Mother that he is healthy.” Madja smiled, and started packing her things.

“If you need anything, just let me know.” We thanked her and Az took her back. The kids were sleeping and i decided to prepare something to our afternoon event, i ended up doing a cake and some pastries, along tea and coffee.

“You should be resting.” Az said, he was standing on the doorway, his arms crossed and i small smile plastered on his face. “Let me help you.” He grabbed the plates and started doing it for me, while i checked the kids. Rhys, Feyre and Nyx we’re the first ones to arrive, followed up by Mor and Elain, then Cassian and Nesta and lastly by Amren and Varian.

“Was everything ok?” Feyre asked, Nyx bouncing on her lap while Nesta played with him.

“Surprisingly easy, but still felt like my bones we’re being crushed.” The females laughed. “Are y'all ready to meet them?” I asked and i could feel all the eyes on me.

“THEM?” Cassian screamed, Rhys hit Cassian's head, telling him to be quiet while Az and i left to get the kids. When we enter the living room, everyone rushed to get to us. “Oh gods, they are so beautiful. Just like their mother.” Cassian joked and Az gave him a death glare.

“Before you all start to complain that we didn't tell you about having twins, it was a surprise to us too. Nova was born first and Nikolai came right after, we were as surprised as you all.” Az said and they smiled, soon our kids were passing from hand to hand. Azriel hugged me as we watched our family drooling over our kids.

“How long do you think it will take to Cassian start to beg Nesta for a kid of their own?” I whispered in his ear and he laughed loudly, pulling me closer.

“I think he’s already doing it.” He turned my head in their direction. Nesta was holding Nik and Cassian was looking at them, a goofy smile on his face while he said something to her. “Thank you.” He said and i turned to face him. “For everything, for loving me, choosing me and giving me this wonderful family. It’s all i ever wanted, thank you for making my dreams come true, i love you with my entire heart and soul, till the end of times.”

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #night court #velaris #sarahjmaas #fluff #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #shadowsinger #dad!az #dad!azriel #moonlightazriel

[crowborn666-writes]

Content

Gyutaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: (mini AU where Gyutaro doesn’t hang out inside Daki’s body all the time, they still demons tho) New to one of the famous houses of the Entertainment District, you find yourself growing closer with someone too dangerous for your own good.

Genre: Fluff, Romantic

TW/CW: mentions of injury to reader, a patron being an asshole, mentions of suggestive things

Part 2

~~~~~~

At first, when Gyutaro met you, it was when you first arrived at the house Daki stayed in. He would often visit the place to check up on his sister, do his rounds and figure out his next targets, or even meet up with Lord Muzan for updates. But then he saw you, new and fresh-faced and looking oh-so nervous.

You greeted him with no recoil or sneer, no mockery or disgust in your tone. Originally, he’d planned to use you for selfish desires, treating you as nothing more than food for him or Daki once he was through. But when you one day greeted him with the warm, fresh smell of bread and pastries lingering to your form, he found his desires wavering.

You’d told him about how you liked to bake that day, even offering the biggest loaf of bread you’d made to him to take with him when he left. It had a slight hint of cinnamon… or something… all his brain said was it smelled rather nice.

What he couldn’t understand though, was why you’d given it to him. Why you were so generous, when someone with your beauty and grace should no doubt be selfish, right? After all that’s what life taught him.

“Oh! Did I upset you?” You’d gasped at his inquiry of why’d you’d given him the bread, “I apologize if I did! I just like to give gifts to those I’m fond of.”

You went on to explain how you’d grown attached to him, how you enjoyed his company and visits despite what others say.

Oh, how naive you are.

“Well, either way,” you began again, a small smile creeping onto your face as you watched him wrap the bread up with care, setting it into the bag that hung off his hip, “Your sister said she quite liked my bread. I’m honestly a little surprised she didn’t snap at me for trying to offer it to her. But I hope you’ll like it as well!”

He left soon after that that day, leaving you and taking the memory of your sweet smile and scent with him. He then found himself eating the bread you gave him sooner than expected. Even more unexpected, it was some damn good bread.

Even as a demon, one too accustomed to blood and flesh as their only palette, Gyutaro could taste the care you’d baked into the pastry, the cinnamon added just the right amount of flavor and kick as well.

He’d felt more full than he ever had in over a hundred years that day.

His next visit to see you didn’t go quite as planned. He wanted to spend some time alone with you, to act as a patron for that day as an excuse to get to know you better, perhaps go further than that, if you wished.

But when he entered the house, your pained scream had him and several others rushing up to your room. He swung your door open, the headmaster right behind him, his blood boiling at the sight of another man standing over you.

You hadn’t yet noticed the group you’d attracted, too panicked as you held your bleeding eye and stared up at the man above you, your own hairpin clutched in his hand.

“What did I do wrong?” You cried, your hair resting over your shoulders now that your hairpin was no longer holding it in place, “I simply did what you asked of me!”

As the headmaster shouted out for first aid, Gyutaro took it upon himself to walk in and haul your assailant up and out of the room.

The hell Gyutaro raised could bring shame to any natural disaster. After Gyutaro had given the man a piece of his mind verbally, people had barely noticed the man had completely disappeared later that night.

When Gyutaro returned to you, the cut that was thankfully above your eye was already beginning to heal, but you could still see the way he frowned at it. Scowling as if it were an irritating stain that was insistent on staying. And to him, it was.

He’d gone through with his original plan, paying to have the day with you inside your room. You’d happily invited him in, quick to make tea for the both of you and offer some more of your bread to him.

He’d asked about your day, content to listen as you prattled on about the new things you’d come across. How his sister came to you first to relax, how warm you felt from the compliments to your baking.

Gyutaro soaked in every detail, the way your mouth moved, the way your hands couldn’t stay still as you talked, the way your eyes lit up.

Your eyes. He found himself scowling at that cut again, wanting nothing more than for you to be a demon so it would heal itself, no scars to show for such a wretched event.

“Gyutaro?”

Your voice snapped him from his thoughts, the scowl disappearing when his gaze met yours. “Are you alright? You look troubled.”

He was quiet for a moment, before reaching out to cradled your head in his much larger hands, leaning forward until his lips brushed against the thin cut upon your forehead. He stilled at your giggle.

“You missed silly.~” you hummed, tilting your head up to capture his lips before he could protest. You felt him freeze against you, and just as you were about to pull back and ask if you crossed a boundary of sorts, you felt him press into the kiss.

His lips were a bit chapped, teeth a bit too sharp, but you could care less when you felt engulfed in his hold. As if you were being held by arms that would tear through any threat to keep you safe.

Unknown to you, you were.

He trailed the kiss down your neck, pulling soft quiet sounds out of you that he wanted plenty more off. In the back of his mind, the urge to turn you was there. To turn you into a demon just like him—no—like Daki. One that was beautiful yet sneered down at those under you. But not now, not today.

His hands moved from your cheeks to the floor, holding up his larger form as he practically hovered over you. He pulled away from your neck, if only to avoid accidentally biting you when you lurched forward, pressing kisses to his cheeks and neck. Yours were sweeter and softer than his, your hands curling into the fabric of his clothes.

“What’re you doin’?” He hummed, one hand lifting hold you to him, indicating he didn’t want you to stop. The rasp and croak in his voice hit your eardrums in the best way, causing you to shiver as you lifted up from your trail of neck kisses.

“You need love too,” you hummed, pressing a warm kiss to his cheek, “pretty boy.~”

You giggle filled the room as he pressed his lips back to yours, his fingers curling carefully at the nape of your neck.

Eventually, he would change you to be a powerful demon, but for now, he was content.

#demon slayer gyutaro #demon slayer #kny gyutaro #kny #kny oneshots #demon slayer x you #demon slayer fluff #demon slayer oneshots #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro #gyutaro x you #fluff #romantic #fem!reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader