#;; and the pain is SUPPOSED to go away after a couple days?? my eyes have been a bit achy too but it's nothing too bad!

[kaerinio]

i just wanted to thank you all for your love and well wishes! 🥹💖 today, i've mainly been resting + daydreaming + crocheting (i am back in it and making hats). tomorrow, i'm hoping to put some thoughts to the page!

[d1s1ntegrated]

dabi and hawks fighting over reader🫣

luv ur workss!!!!😩😩😩💗💗💗

🎀•—•—•—•🎀

YEEEASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS IM FROTHINGGGG

much to be desired

dabi vs hawks x reader <3

crossposted to my ao3!

cw: dirty talk, unprotected, threesome - F/M/M, sadomasochism, multiple positions, doggy, missionary, oral, rough, biting, dacryphilia, light somnophilia, why choose?mutual pining, backshots, slight breeding kink if u squint, dabi has a pain kink, wing play, wing kink, hawks has really sensitive wings, dabi has a lotttt of piercings, minor cuckolding, pet names, hair pulling, slight choking, really descriptive smut lol, no use of y/n, blank name space instead, fem!afab!reader, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

wc: ~4300 words

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you didn't think the boys were ever actually fighting. their dynamic was just like that. as their roommate, you witnessed a lot of fights and bickering that could be comparable to an old married couple, but you never made anything of it. after all, at the end of the day, the two were inseparable- with you squished between them, of course. at all times.

but when you came home late at night, slightly tipsy from the bar, and stumbled into kiego's arms...touya just about lost it.

"c'mere, ________. come here baby, lemme take care of you" keigo's soft voice whispers in your ear as you cling to him, smelling the expensive cologne on his chest.

"yo, keeg, i got 'er." touya's rough hand grabs at your shoulder and keigo smacks his hand away.

"nuh uh, crispy, go smoke a cigarette or something" the winged man snaps at touya as he slips your jacket off your arms.

"tch, you dont know what the hell you're doing anyways." touya extends his hand back out to you, and you grasp it gently. he leads you away from keigo, who trails behind the both of you like a predator on prey. he sits on the armchair across from you, leaning forward and placing his chin in his hands as touya takes your hair down, smoothing out the tangles. keigo rolls his eyes and huffs as he sits next to you, handing you a water bottle.

"how much did you drink, angel?" keigo asks, rubbing your face with a loose feather. touya reaches out and yanks the feather away before you can even answer, flicking it back to keigo. you shake your head and shrug. you didn't really have a lot, and it's already slightly wearing off, but saké has one hell of a kick to it. not to mention the walk home took a toll on you.

"not a lot. just enough..." you smile, and touya chuckles.

"that's my girl" he says, and keigo chokes back a laugh.

"somethin' funny, chicken?" touya leans back, crossing a leg. he taps the arm of the couch impatiently as keigo shakes his head.

"well, i mean, it's laughable that you're calling her yours," the blonde smirks in his seat, fiddling with one of his own feathers. his face remains unbothered as he continues, "as if her standards are that low".

the black haired man scoffs. he stands with a sickly smile, jabbing a finger in keigo's direction. "if i'm the low standard, you must be real shit, huh?" he spins to face you, as you rub the heat on your cheeks away with the palms of your hands. "_______, who would you pick?" he asks, raising a brow.

you furrow your brows for a moment. "in regards to what, exactly?". you can't lie, this whole conversation was confusing enough, but pair it with sakura-flavored liquor and two men who both suck at communicating...it sounds like he's asking you to decipher hieroglyphics right now.

"i dunno. just pick. me," he gestures to himself with a dramatic flair, "or him". he hides his face from keigo with one hand and shoves a finger to his mouth. the childlike motion makes you laugh, and shake your head.

"if i'm supposed to be mediating this pissing contest, count me out boys." you raise your hands in defeat and stand from your seat, still swaying a bit. "i'm gonna go lay down" you purse your lips into a thin smile and the two men watch as you trail off to your room. they immediately snap back, staring daggers into each other before kiego springs up and they both run for your door. you hear the cacophony of feet outside your door, but just sigh. the handle jiggles for a moment as you undress, ignoring the light knocking and mumbling from the other side.

"stupid boys", you shake your head as you change into comfier clothes. this wasn't the first time you'd been caught in the middle of their little spats, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. however, all you needed right now was some goddamned peace and quiet.

you open the curtains, letting the city lights glimmer in through the windows. you fling yourself on the bed, grateful for the silence. a few minutes pass as you stare at the ceiling, the question still tumbling around in your head. in what world would you want to choose? you loved the boys equally, you essentially labelled them a package deal for you. also, in what world would they care anyways? to your knowledge, they considered you just another bro anyways. sure, they called you things like baby and angel and pretty girl, but that was par for the course with two male roommates. of course they learned how to braid your hair and they bought you refills of your makeup or skincare when it ran out, or your favorite snacks on your period. of course touya always invited you outside for a smoke, and always lit it for you. why wouldn't keigo always tag you with a feather when you went out, for safety reasons? they loved you, but certainly not, no, never in that way. right? they cared as much as most men would care, right?

your silence was abruptly ended by the sound of knocking, again. you stand from the bed, groaning slightly as you unlock the door. it pushes open swiftly as touya enters, his tall stature shadowing you as he grabs you, warm hands cupping your face. before you can ask why, or what he's doing, he leans down and kisses you feverishly. your mind slips as his lips crush yours, the cool metal of his piercings brushing against your soft mouth. you exhale heavily as you taste him, smoke and salt enveloping you. his hands trail down the curve of your spine to grab your ass, squeezing it as he nips at your bottom lip with sharp teeth.

your brain sputters as you try to understand what he's doing, but you lose to the greater thought of how badly you wanted him. it had crossed your mind-you wondered how the boys tasted, how they felt to kiss, how badly they'd stretch you out if you let them-but it was all just silly intrusive thoughts. late at night, when you felt lonely, you'd imagine crawling into bed with one or both of them, letting them have their way with you. the thought would comfort you to sleep, but you never imagined any part of it coming to fruition. now, with touyas hands running rampantly all over your body, it feels dreamlike.

you sink into his touch further, letting him push you back onto your bed as his tongue begs for intrusion. it slips in, and you slide yours past his lips, feeling his piercing tickling the inside of your mouth. you moan into the kiss, feeling him smile at the sound.

as you wrap your arms around him, you feel a soft tickle against the back of your hand. you grasp at it, feeling it crush slightly between your fingers, and you break the kiss. still speechless, you look behind touya to see keigo standing there, propped in the doorway. the sight of him shocks you-its not that you forgot about him, but you weren't expecting to see him looming against the doorframe, watching with a narrow gaze.

you realize then what you had grasped, and hastily release it as he summons it back, grabbing it with a lazy hand.

"i guess this is your way of answering the question, eh?" his voice is lower then usual, almost like he's trying to smother his annoyance. but it still rings true in your ear, and you shake your head.

touya doesn't shift his position, but stares at you with half-lidded eyes as you speak. as if on cue, keigo chuckles and closes the door behind him, locking it quietly.

"you know, touya, if you wanted her so bad, you should've said something earlier." his words bite as he approaches the bed, throwing his shirt to the floor effortlessly before crawling right up next to the both of you. touya snickers as keigo snakes a hand between you, tracing your silhouette with his soft fingers. you don't protest his touch, and he recognizes that, as he shoves touya slightly to press a warm, gentle kiss to your already-swollen lips. you immediately shiver as you realize what's happening, and you let the feeling tangle your mind.

keigo is different than touya. he's softer, slower, sweeter. his lips taste like coffee and honey, and as his scruff tickles your chin, you melt. to have one of them, you begin thinking, would be blasphemous. because the mix of the two feels like something even heaven couldn't replicate.

he pulls away from the kiss and strokes your face as he turns to touya, who's watching intensely from above the both of you.

"how about we give our angel a better way to choose, hm?" keigo nudges the scarred man with a smile, "let her experience it first, let us both show her the best so she can decide".

touya grins at the proposition, tilting his head back a bit at the thought. "it's her choice" he looks back down at you, that same grin splayed wide on his sharp face. "what do you say, pretty girl?"

your eyes widen as you take in the thought. without further contemplation, you nod, allowing the men to finally have you. your heart swells, unable to comprehend your own joy as they both let their hands free on your body, groping and grabbing wherever they can. they kiss and nip at you like starving dogs, taking a side of you each before they both grab at the hem of your shirt, yanking it over your head with ease. touya depravedly goes for your pants, tearing them off you without warning as keigo now cups one of your breasts, pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. you moan out at the sensation, your eyes glossing over with pure lust. he takes a feather and motions as it drags up your side, sending a shiver from deep inside to course through you.

touya doesn't worry about your underwear as he greedily yanks the fabric to the side, dipping his head between your thights. he licks a thick stripe up to your clit, the cold air clashing with your already-soaked folds. he groans as his tongue sinks into you, the piercing rubbing up against the bundle of nerves just enough to get you to suck in a gasp. his nails dig into your thigh, his fingers heating up on the soft flesh as he squeezes. you grit your teeth as the pain and pleasure mix, feeling the skin under his hands swell with heat. keigo shifts up, grabbing your face and cradling you as touya devours you, his tongue working rapid movements around your clit. he kisses you again, a bit more crazed this time, his wings puffed straight behind him as his tongue collides with yours. he moans gently as you bite his lip, unable to hide your upcoming orgasm. he chuckles into your mouth before you pull him in deeper, your other hand grasping at touya's thick black hair, shoving his face even deeper into you. you cry out, wrapping your hand into keigo's wings as you get closer and closer, the waves washing over you. he whimpers out, shuddering as your fingers tangle with the crimson fluff, unable to control his impulses.

"right there, angel" his golden eyes roll back slightly, long thick lashes fluttering. you tighten your grasp, and he moans loudly. from below, touya chuckles as his tongue laps up at you as you're sent over the edge. you freeze for a moment before your body shatters, your eyes squeezing shut as your thighs tighten around touya's face. you moan a string of obscenities as the flood rushes through your burning body. your cries only entice the two men further, as they both smile at you. touya pulls up for a breath, then turns to keigo.

"you want a taste, birdie?" he smiles, his lips glistening with your essence as your juices drip off his chin. keigo dutifully nods, and touya stands up to allow for the swap. he strips his bottoms off, including the boxers. you soak in the sight of his scarred body, piercings littering his pretty skin alongside the staples. tracing down the white hair from his navel, his cock stands proudly. metal adornments go up his shaft to his delicate red tip, gleaming under city lights. keigo even raises his brows before replicating touya's actions, his tongue dipping into you immediately. your hips buck up at the stimulation, your body already sensitive from the both of them.

touya comes back to the bed, but instead of laying beside you, he sits directly on your chest, muscular thighs warming your ears.

"be a good girl for me, open your mouth" he commands with a low tone, and your jaw slackens. you draw your tongue out as his hand works up and down his length for a few strokes. he slides it in slowly, and you wrap your lips around it gratefully, letting your tongue form around the girthy shape. you trace the little metal beads with it as he thrusts gently into your mouth, groaning as he watches you take the full length with a gag. "that's it," he says with a hiss, "take my cock."

you lick and suck around it, feeling him shake as he perches on you. he moans loudly as you cry, the gagging sending hot tears to stream down your face. he laughs lowly and continues to thrust into you before whispering, "use your teeth, baby, i know you wanna". you sob as your mouth finally relaxes a bit, your teeth grazing against the delicate flesh. he takes a thumb and wipes the tears from your face, licking it off with a crazed moan. his cock leaks down your throat, and you can feel from his incessant twitching that he's close. you let your jaw clamp just a bit tighter, his piercings rubbing against your bottom molars.

keigo sends you over the edge again with fat, lazy licks alternating with snake-like flitting against your clit. his fingers grab your hips as he presses himself further into you as you rut against his sweet mouth, moaning in sync with you as he grinds down into the mattress, edging himself on your pleasure. touya feels your mouth loosen a bit as you orgasm again, and looks down at you with a sadistic smile. he shoves his cock all the way in again, choking you again with the size as keigo licks you clean, sending overstimulated crackles through your legs.

touya leans back as keigo lifts his head, and grabs the blonde by the nape of his neck. his face is slicked, and he's panting. as touya pulls him closer, he smiles, licking a canine before he's yanked into a very sloppy and aggressive kiss. your body seizes at the sight, the two men grasping and groping at each other the same way they did to you just moments ago. touya's cock jumps as keigo moans, and the two pull away with a thick string of saliva mixed with your fluids.

"i was just about to cum in her pretty mouth" the pierced man says, annoyance coating his words.

"this ain't about you" keigo says unbothered as he slides off the bed, his wings puffed as he fully undresses. his tan skin glows under the low lights of the room, his muscles rippling with the contrast. your eyes focus on his equally impressive cock- it's clean shaven, only slightly lengthier than touya's, with a soft pink tip. your eyes dart between his and touya's, unable to hide your excitement as he re-approaches the bed. touya slides off your chest without a word, and the two men kneel by your feet.

"heads or tails, baby?" keigo coos at you, and you tilt your head. he shakes his head, waving a finger. "nuh-uh, just pick" his voice teases, heavy with craving. "dont overcomplicate it".

"uhm, i dont...heads, i guess?" you stumble over your words, and he nods. he moves and lays against the headboard next to you, spreading his legs a bit. touya notices your confusion and extends his hand to you, pulling you into an upright position.

he kisses your neck lazily before whispering in your ear. "turn around". it isn't an offer, rather an instruction, so you nod and turn to face keigo. touya grabs your waist and shifts you between the hero's legs, then pushes your upper back so you fold.

"tch, hands and knees, pretty girl." he smacks your ass as you move into the position, your back arching sleazily. he hums in approval and teases your entrance with his leaking cock, and you feel the fluids mixing. you instinctively press yourself back, trying to already take it before he stops you. he leans over you, his body warming yours as he wraps a hand around your throat.

"don't be so eager, slut. and be nice to keigo, too" he spits as his grip tightens, then releasing as you dip your head down to meet keigo's cock. the winged man looks down, stroking your chin as he wraps his fingers around the base of his shaft, extending the length even further as he presses down. the tip brushes against your pouty lips, and you open your mouth, drool already spilling out before you lower your head down. you moan around the size as it twitches, and touya slaps your ass with a cupped hand, the sound reverberating around the room. he pushes into you slowly, the sheer size of it causing you to buckle as it stretches your painfully-tight hole. he growls as you adjust to him.

he starts with slow, deep strokes as your mouth works on keigo. the both of them moan and huff with pleasure, and touya picks up the pace. his thrusts force kiego further down your throat, the same tears beginning to sprout from your eyes again as the pain and euphoria battle inside of you. with a moan, keigo throws his head back and laces his fingers into your hair, keeping it away from your face as your drool drips down his throbbing cock. you swallow as his precum slides down your tongue. his wings, previously pressed against the headboard, wrap around him as he shakes. you resist the urge to reach out and grab one of them, knowing it'll throw you off balance.

as keigo reaches his orgasm, touya thrusts into you rapidly, roughly. he snakes his own hand into your hair as keigo's grip loosens, and he yanks your head back forcefully as you and kiego both near orgasm.

"wanna fill you so badly, i love how good you're taking our cocks baby" he draws out, shoving your head back town to keigo, who's shaking and panting, near begging to finish. as you take him back in your mouth, he begins to fill your mouth with sticky strings of cum. his moans are loud and breathy as he calls out your name, his eyes squeezing shut and his legs tightening. he thrusts into your mouth from below, and you force yourself to swallow it all before it begins to leak from your lips. his wings jut out, the feathers ridged, some shooting loose as he rides out his orgasm. as you clench around touya, he smacks your ass and reaches around to press and flat finger to your clit, rubbing it as you squeam and shatter around his cock. bliss overtakes the three of you, touya roughly slamming into you with a clapping noise before he rapidly pulls out, and you feel as he shoots thick white ropes all over your ass and back, a string of curses coming out in the form of moaning alongside it.

your body collapses, drenched in overstimulation as you cry out. even after three orgasms, you still crave more. your mind is still broken, the only thought being the image of the two boys using you. you feel waves of darkness washing over you, the heat and endorphins flooding your vision as it all goes dark.

you awaken on your back, your head still spinning. you blink up, trying to let the light slowly seep back into your sight. to your left, touya lays lazily, a scarred hand slowly stroking his cock as he watches you. for a moment, you can't see kiego, but then you feel him as he slowly, gently slips the tip of his cock inside of you. from above, he watches you wake, a sly smile painting his face. you stir under him, still cloudy as he pumps inside of you. he leans down, kissing your cheeks and neck, your pussy ultimately clenching around his length. you feel a deep, throbbing ache in side of you, causing you to hiss in pain. he tuts at you quietly before kissing you languidly, sighing as he tastes himself on your lips.

he breaks the kiss, his motions speeding up, and touya leans down to take his place.

"welcome back," he teases, licking up the side of your neck. his charcoal hair tickles your face as he sucks on your throat, just below your ear. you gasp quietly, unable to produce a sound louder. kiego slides his hand between the both of you and toys with your poor clit again with a thumb, his cock rubbing right against your spot. as much as your body wants to protest it, it's already close again as he abuses the bundle of nerves. you pull keigo in closer, lacing your shaky fingers between the base of his crimson wings. he cries out as you both work each other up, with touya swapping between the both of you with sanguine kisses and bites. a few to your neck, nipple, or face, and then a few to kiego's side, arm, and ear.

you feel your fourth orgasm rush over you as kiego fucks you, his hips rutting into you achingly. touya fists at his cock desperately as he watches, his breathing matching everyone else's as you spasm, clenching tightly around keigo's thick cock.

"fuck, angel, my god, you're so tight," he pounds into your spent hole even harder, his hands gripping the bedding. you weaken under him, your body going loose as he relentlessly tortures you with his length. his citrine eyes lock with yours, a primal glaze washed over them. his core tightens and he slams himself against your cervix repeatedly, worsening the bruise on it. "touya was nice enough to leave you nice and fuckin' clean for me" he breathes out, his voice much deeper and aggressive compared to his usual bubbly tone. your eyes widen in both fear and anticipation as his nails dig into your shoulders. touya's own moans grow louder next to you as he finishes again, splaying the sheets with pearlescent cum. keigo watches as the cum leaks out of the scarred man and it sends him over the edge. he shoves himself as deep as he can, dragging his sharp nails down your arms as he fills you, and you feel the heat rush into you furiously as he cries out with a low guttural groan. his wings shoot back out, more feathers exploding off of him, making a mess of the room as he makes a mess of you. your body quivers as he pulls out, panting, and your legs immediately snap shut in pain. there's a deep throbbing inside of you, but you cant help but still feel exuberant.

both boys sigh and collapse on the bed next to you. touya wipes a strand of hair from your face as kiego kisses your cheek gently, none of you having the energy to speak. you all lay there for a few seconds before keigo gets up and leaves, returning with a wet cloth and a towel a few seconds later.

touya sits up and helps to wipe you and himself off, and kiego does the same. they lock eyes for a moment, and touya speaks.

"d'ya have an answer, pretty girl?" he asks you gently, still cleaning you up. you shake your head and close your eyes, not bothering to filter your response.

"both".

your indifference causes them to both pause and laugh.

"both?" keigo raises a brow, and hands you a water bottle.

you take a sip and nod. "mhm."

"you heard her, drumstick," touya starts with a breathy chuckle, "why make her choose?" he shrugs and raises his hands, taking the water bottle from you after.

keigo slips into bed with the both of you, a shit-eating grin plastering his golden features. he reaches and drapes an arm over you, holding you close. "i guess we can't ask you to make a decision now, hm?" he tucks himself into you a bit, the scent of sweat and his cologne swirling around your senses.

touya nods and rubs his thumb along your bottom lip before kissing you. "no, we wont make you choose right now" he confirms, settling in on the other side, hand resting on your thigh. he pulls the covers over all of you and sighs, his eyes closing softly as he sinks into exhaustion.

you finally crash from the second-wind, and yawn before coming to rest between the two, humming contentedly at the revelation of your deepest fantasies. you smile at the consensus- you can have the both of them. your mind eases as your own eyes flutter shut, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the two.

"we'll try again tomorrow" touya mumbles with a smirk.

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thank u for the ask! enjoy <3

also this was poorly proofread, i apologize for any typos!

[samkerrworshipper]

the lawn is dead. pt.2

hi! i wrote a part 2! i’m on a unofficial hiatus but had some inspiration the last few days and had to finish this. hope it provides a little bit more comfort then the last chapter .. sorry xo

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm themes, themes of depression, anxiety, dark thoughts. viewer discretion advised.

You can describe the carpet of this office better then most people can describe themselves.

It’s a rug, for the most part, except for the where it’s clear a person has chosen laziness in favour of lifting up the heavier furniture to place the rug down underneath it. Where the rug doesn’t cover, there is bleak grey carpet that feels more boring then the time you spend in this room.

Where the carpet lacks in literally everything, the rug makes up for it blindingly.

It’s a messy mixture of far too many colours, pinks, purples, blues, greens and neutrals. It doesn’t make any sense in your mind, why somebody would chose for the focal point of their room to be a rug that doesn’t match with any of the furniture. It’s another sign that the furniture came before the rug, all of the furniture is dark mahogany, beautiful pieces that look as if they’ve come from and English period piece, whereas the rug looks so modern it’s almost painful.

The rest of the furniture has been picked with similar taste.

The painting on the wall looks like what a child would vomit after going to a birthday party. Every time you’ve come here you’ve had a new analogy, but this week that is the one, it looks like stomach contents and you can’t get past it, to the point it’s made you physically nauseated.

From the painting moves onto the bookshelf, where there is a odd mix of medical textbooks, classics and selfawareness books, all stacked in such disarray that you have to keep your eyes away because it makes you uncomfortable.

Beyond the furniture is your psychologist, with her stupid fucking note pad, stupid glasses perched on the very tip of her nose and stupidly calm face that never really changed.

She was supposed to be a specialist, the best of the best, supposed to be the greatest and getting to the bottom of the most famous athletes problems and yet you found pride in alluding her.

One hour, every four days was what you were down to now, a couple of weeks ago it had been every other day and that had been fucking torture.

Sometimes all you wanted to do was rip her eyeballs out, or her brains, or something else. You swore she made your ears bleed and your will to live deteriorate with every second and it was already pretty low.

“You can’t avoid my question forever.”

It was also that annoying tone that sent you, the sort of tone that meant she knew that technically for the whole of the hour she could ask you whatever she pleased and you were technically supposed to answer her. Defiance on your end just ended up in you being suspended from something else that made your life just a tiny bit more liveable.

“No, I haven’t talked to Mapi yet.”

You’ve been avoiding it, there have bits and pieces of homework from your therapist, but this one is by far the hardest.

“How about Alexia, how does she feel about that.”

You don’t want to tell her that you and Alexia are in shambles as it is, add on the pressure of her best friend being psychologically destroyed because of you and just talking about any of it at all and it’s like dynamite.

“Supportive.”

Your therapist nods, but in the way that you know she doesn’t quite believe you.

“Have you started to reintegrate with the team? I know last time we talked you mentioned that before the incident you’d been feeling quite isolated because of your ankle injury. It’s important that you start to normalise your life again before you start to self isolate.”

You don’t call it self-isolation, you like to call it self protection. You protect yourself by pushing against the grain, by keeping to yourself. It’s a lot easier that way.

“I’ve been busy.”

It’s a lie and a blatant one, your days are filled with complete nothingness. You can’t play football, not until she clears you, and you know that it’s not going to happen anytime soon based on the trend of your current sessions. There has been the same amount of progress as there was two weeks ago when you started with her. You shut down at every attempt she makes to try and open you up, you talk when you have to. It’ll probably get you sent back to a ward. You don’t remember much from your transition from the hospital to home, but you do remember signing something that referred to you making significant process or else you would be sent back.

Progress for your therapist is getting more then two word responses from you. You’re aware she’s in kahoots with Alexia, that Alexia is probably providing her more information then you are.

“You’re giving me the look that means that you’re writing something down along the lines of ‘unncooperative’.”

She is also in kahoots with the staff at Barcelona, another thing you signed was that she would work in conjunction with the clubs doctors to get you back to where you were, or somewhere in the vicinity.

They know every time you have a bad session, you’re guaranteed a consolation call from one of the coaches or even sometimes a teammate check-in telling you how brave you are and how strong you are for doing this.

You don’t agree, you nearly took the cowards way out and you’re proud of it. You wish it had fucking worked, every single second, of every single day, you wish you’d succeeded, wished that this hadn’t all ended up how it did.

“That’s not what I wrote, I wrote a observation. Uncooperative would be you refusing to speak to me like you did for our first two sessions, even if you lie it’s still trying.”

You don’t want to be curious of her, you’ve tried to give her as little attention as possible.

You’ve adapted the act that you call, therapised you.

You do your best job of smiling here and there, or at least when you know that you’re supposed to. Therapised you extends to a few people, Alexia, coaches, physios, people on the street.

You believe you’ve become a seasoned liar.

The funniest part is that sometimes you start to believe your act, you start to believe that all the ash and embers in your chest is really alight with flames, like you’re truly alive.

But then, you would pause, sit down, lie down, dissasociate and you would be reminded that that wasn’t your body. Your body wasn’t a place of life and prosper, it was as dead as anywhere else.

“What was the observation?”

You try not to be curious over her, or curious in general, you keep everything to yourself.

“You’ve told me time and time again that you attempted because you believed that not a single person would care if you were gone. Yet you wrote a letter, you knew that somebody would care, somebody would miss you. Guilt is what kept you from doing it earlier and guilt was what kept you from vanishing without a trace. Your conscience was clean in your own words, but that’s not true, your conscience was anything but clean. So what pushed you over?”

You hate that therapists have a way of worming out weird bits of information that they can use against you to worm out more bits of information, like they know your brain inside to out.

“My conscience was clean.”

Your therapist pulls her glasses up from her nose and scribbles on her pad again.

“Why’d you write a note then, specifically why did you write a note to your ex girlfriend?”

There are so many things you could say to that, but you can’t quite find the words.

“Let me rephrase to make it easier. When you were in the hospital, and Alexia reacted so viscerally, you weren’t surprised. You expected her to feel something about what happened, you didn’t seem surprised at all by her words or actions. You knew that she was going to be hurt by what you did. So, how was your conscience truly clean?”

Thinking about Alexia in the hospital makes you feel as nauseous as the furniture does.

Your still mad at her, still mad at yourself for never changing her as your medical contact and medical proxy. It had all been a clusterfuck.

“I didn’t know Alexia was going to be there, I though that she’d washed her hands of me. I left her a note because I thought there had been things left unsaid between us and I didn’t want to leave that way.”

Your therapist nods, she doesn’t scribble this time and that makes the itchy feeling all over you die down a little bit.

“Alright, let’s move on. Your ankle injury, how’s that going?”

You look to the window, it’s a horrible day outside, just your luck when you’d chosen to walk to your therapists office on what was supposed to be a 20 degree day with sunny skies. It was the epitome of your life, high expectations, low realities.

“Well three weeks between a hospital and psychiatric facility are probably the best thing anybody can do for a injury.”

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle and your therapist does nothing but scribble.

“So you’ve been doing your rehab as advised then?”

Rehab, both kinds, is mind-bogglingly boring. You go to your therapist and she tells you all the ways you have to work to rehab your brain, she gives you medication after medication and exercise after exercise. The same happens every time you see your physio, test after test, exercise after exercise.

Your stuck in the same cycle of boredom, it makes you wonder how people ever expect you to get better when all you are doing is living in a constant state of suffering.

“The physios are happy with me, say that if I continue on the track that I am I should be back on the pitch in a few weeks, with psychological clearance.”

At the current therapeutic rate your going at, you don’t think you’ll see a psychological clearance until your 50th birthday, if you’re lucky.

“How does it feel coming back from that injury, especially considering how the decline in your physical health simulatenously resulted in the decrease in your mental health?”

You keep silent, because you know that if you talk then it’s doing to be something emotional. When you don’t know how to answer questions without exposing yourself you opt to keep quiet, it’s a obvious tell that you feel uncomfortable with the question. But giving away a tell is a whole lot better then starting an emotional downpour.

“Y/n?”

You look at your shoes. You only were allowed to start wearing one on your bad foot a week ago, and you’d forgotten how hard it was to coordinate shoes with your clothes. This morning you’d thought that they matched with your pants but now they look much darker then they truly are against the grey carpet. The mix of your navy adidas that you might have stolen from Mapi’s wardrobe a couple of months ago when she was complaining about the amount of shoes she’d been sent with your grey wide leg pants was a interesting choice but therapy wasn’t a fashion parade. The shoes don’t quite fit your feet, that’sc how you remembered they weren’t yours. When you’d taken them, it had been during some kind of team bonding night at Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment. Life had been so good, Alexia and you had been so good and for once you’d kind of felt like you were beginning to fit in.You’d never felt that way before that era of your life.

But like most things, it was now a far distant memory.

“The injury wasn’t what made me depressed.”

It’s a half truth, you suppose. Yes, the injury definitely contributed to the factors that trigger your depression, but it wasn’t a sole cause.

“I disagree.”

More scribbling on her note pad, in your opinion it must be some psychological form of torture. You’ll google it when you get home, check to make sure that this isn’t a form of manipulation to somehow convince you to say the things that she wants you to.

“If you disagree then tell me why you think that.”

It’s daring of you to say, there is nearly a 99.99 percent chance that whatever she says you are going to deny vehemently. Even if she hits it right on the nail.

“I think that you don’t give yourself enough grace for the challenges that you’ve gone through. You came to Barcelona because you were running from things, from your past. You’ve never stopped running, truly. Everytime somebody gets close enough to begin to try and worm their feet into your shoes to try and relive some of it with you, you shut them down and stop it. For most people, shoes are a means of getting to where they want, for you, you keep running because if you stop you feel like you’ll suffocate, like your feet will be wrapped up in barb wire and you’ll be stuck. For whatever reason, you don’t think anybody will ever be able to empathise with that. You think that if you ever let anybody in for long enough that they learn what you’ve been running from that they’ll try and stop you, that you’ll be faced with everything that you’ve ever struggled with. So, you keep running, and running, you’ve always been in a state of escape. With your relationship, you finally stopped running, you slowed to a jog. Then, you got injured. All of a sudden you felt like you were stuck and instead of letting yourself finally come to a stop and accepting help and complete love for once in your life, and being vulnerable. You chose to start running again, running from your friends, running from your team, running from every single good thing that you’d gotten in your life until you were so consumed with all the running that you just wanted it all to stop. But you didn’t know how to stop parts of your life without stopping other parts, so you chose to stop it all.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds. You’ve never had the feeling that you’ve been experiencing your whole life summed up, you don’t know how to feel about it.

You look at your psychologist, and somehow she looks back at you in a way that you somehow feel like she understands, you’ve never really felt that way about her.

It’s always felt like she’s judging you, like it’s her job to judge every single thing you say. Or at least that’s the way you’ve always seen it. It’s her job to make sure you don’t fall of the rails again, to make decisions about what you can and can’t do. It’s never been a possibility for you that maybe she’s here for a little bit more then just the business side of it all.

“Is that it? Did you come to a point where it felt like you had no other option but to just make it all stop?”

You bite your lip so hard you think it might just bleed, it’s a mission to try and stop the tears that have begun to cling to the back of your eyes at bay. You’ve never cried during a therapy session, and there is no reason why today should be different. The amount of people you’ve cried in front of is limited to a very, very short list of people and you don’t intend for your psychologist to be added.

“It would be okay if that was it. It’s okay to admit that for you at that time it felt like there was no other option but to make it all stop.”

You feel muzzled, like you can’t speak without admitting to something that you don’t want to.

“I thought it would make it all better.”

Your therapist puts down her notepad, and you feel a whole load of anxiety rush out of you.

“You thought it would make what better?”

You keep your tooth pinned to your lip, if it draws blood, it draws blood. The pain helps to take your focus off of the word vomit you can feel coming up.

“Everyone else’s lives.”

Your response is croaky, and when your therapist points to the glass of water you don’t shake your head like normal, you find yourself reaching for it and taking a few tentative sips.

“What about your life, what about making your own life better?”

You take a few more sips, because it stalls the conversation for long enough that you can think up an answer that doesn’t make it sound like you are completely insane.

“I was never really thinking about it like that.”

You look at her, eye to eye again, and there is this weird understanding between the two of you. You can feel it, whether or not it’s real, for the first time you feel like you aren’t crazy for thinking the way that you do. It’s a weird kind of safety that you’ve never had.

“For a minute, I want you to close your eyes and think about exactly what you want, whether it’s the future, it’s right now. Not football, not other people, nobody else. Just you.”

You humour her, and close your eyes.

For a few seconds, you can’t think of much. You’ve never been a future thinker, not beyond emergency plans and second options.

You think about death for a few seconds, a couple of weeks ago it was all you could think of. Permanent, irreversible disappearance. Even then though, it wasn’t what you were actually yearning for, not truly, it was just an easy solution to complex problems, problems that still haven’t been solved.

You think long and hard, and eventually you find a pleasantness.

You want to resolve things with Alexia, you know that for sure. It’s been impossible trying to navigate your relationship in your new reality. You want to get to a place where it’s less impossible. You want happiness with her, pure happiness. You also want some kind of return to football, you don’t know how. You’ve never really played football because it’s what you love, you’ve never loved your sport, it’s more been about having something that could take you places when inevitable wherever you had been was no longer an option because you’d somehow fucked it up.

You want a better relationship with yourself, you want to understand why you think the way you do and why you can’t think the same way and be the same way as everyone. You want to get past the fear you have that you will never be the same.

When you have nothing else to think about, you open your eyes, to your psychologist smiling at you.

“That’s our hour, I’m really happy to leave this here and circle back to some of it in a couple of days. The progress you’re making is definitely getting bigger and I’m happy to sign off on you getting some hours in the gym if your physios are happy with it. I’ll call the team tonight and we can work out a plan that works best.”

You’re in slight disbelief as she speaks.

“You’re sure?”

You stay seated for the sake of making sure that you haven’t somehow dreamt up what she’s just said.

“If you try and make some progress with your homework. I want you to try and talk to Mapi, a text message, coffee, something. I want you to talk to Alexia beyond her being a caregiver for you and I want you to make progress with your teammates, don’t avoid the gym if you know they are going to be there, don’t avoid team events, dip a toe in the water with them and I can guarantee you will have a very different outcome then what you think.”

Contingencies. One thing you’ve learnt about therapy is that there are always contingencies, it’s always a give and take, never one or the other.

You nod your head anyways, somehow, with her weird manipulation games you’ve managed to agree to something that the version of you from and hour ago never would have.

“I’ll try.”

Your therapist smiles and stands up, for whatever reason there is always a part of you that loves the end of your sessions but also never wants to leave.

Whether it seems like it or not, you actually do want to get better, you just don’t know what better looks like for you and that’s scary. You’ve never met the version of yourself that is ‘better’ or ‘normal’. You can’t say that you want to be your old self because there hasn’t ever been a version of yourself that feels better. You’ve always been in the slums, always been dragging yourself through the thickest mud to try and make it to the end of a day or month or year. You don’t actually want to survive like that, you want to live your life properly, or whatever non-sluggish life looks like for you.

Your still desperately trying to work that out.

Alexia is waiting in the carpark as usual, it’s always the same carpark, always the same consolation hot chocolate in her hands afterwards.

Once you’ve sat down in her passenger seat, put on your seatbelt and the takeaway cup is settled in your hands she broaches the topic of your session.

“How was it?”

There is always an awkwardness around your sessions, Alexia picks your up from every one, on the odd occasion she’ll join in if your therapist thinks it would be good. Otherwise, she spends the time sitting in her car and picking up hot drinks.

It’s infinitely awkward between the two of you, but Alexia in your opinion is mostly to blame for that.

She’d been the first person to put her hand up to be your carer, your glorified babysitter.

You know it’s a guilt thing, she feels guilty that part of your pain could have been because of her, even though you’ve insisted time and time again that it wasn’t.

“Fine.”

Therapy is a tough topic for you, mostly because you’ve never wanted to be there in the first place. You’d been tricked into going from the beginning, Alexia insisting that she was taking you to a appointment to check up on your scars when really it had been to your psychologists office. You’d yelled and screamed and insisted that she take you home, but at the end of the day if you ever wanted to play football again it was obvious you were going to have to suck it up.

You hadn’t talked to Alexia for days after that, which is funny because that was less then three weeks ago and now you’re here.

“Fine?”

You nod your head, it’s hard to find words after a normal session, but after this one it’s ever harder.

“I made some progress.”

Alexia nods, you know there are probably a hundred questions going through her head right now, but she won’t ask them. She’s too scared that if she asks them, she’ll get an answer that will terrify her. One that will restart all of the problems, even if that isn’t really how it works. Alexia doesn’t understand mental health, that’s become frighteningly obvious over the past few weeks. She doesn’t understand your struggles because she’s never experienced them. She’s never had self hatred or depression or overwhelming anxiety. It’s what makes you feel so alienated and so out of place amongst your peers. You feel like a shark amongst a sea of dolphins, like you look the same but when it comes down to it you are completely different.

“That’s good, no?”

You nod your head, disguising the grimace on your face by the mouth of the lid on your hot chocolate.

“She says I can start doing some hours in the gym.”

Alexia smiles, big and wide, like it’s her whose been given the good news.

“That’s good bebita, you’ll be on the pitch in no time.”

The pitch. It’s all Alexia cares about.

When you can be back, how she can get you to the point you can be back. Because when Alexia is injured, it’s all she cares about. What she can do to get herself back on the pitch, how she can make the rehab process faster, she thinks of every single logistic and possibility.

You want to make it back to the pitch, or you think you do. But it’s not your priority. It’s become abundantly clear that your main priority has to be yourself, figuring yourself out.

“Mhm.”

You focus your energy on counting how many bike riders pass Alexia’s car as she navigates through peak city traffic. You get to 38 before she interrupts your intense search for every person on two wheels.

“Vicky’s supposed to be coming over later, I promised I’d help her with a school project. I can go to her house instead if you’d prefer?”

Every time Alexia’s broached the topic of teammates you’ve immediately refused any contact, and your immediate reaction is to say no. but you think about what your therapist said.

“I might text Mapi and see if she wants to talk to me.”

You hear the sound of Alexia’s shock in the form of a choken sort of cough, she tries to cover it up by slapping her hand against the wheel of her car, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think that would be a really good idea, bebita, I think she would be really happy to see you.”

You don’t look at Alexia, you don’t want to see the look of perplexion or shock or whatever emotion she’s going through. You haven’t seen Mapi since the hospital, and as little as you remember from then, you remember Mapi very clearly.

She had been just as out of it as you’d been, refusing to leave your bedside but Ingrid having to do everything for her to keep her alive. Every time she visited you, she looked like she’d seen a ghost, or something worse. You weren’t sure what was worse, seeing somebody dead or seeing somebody who was hanging on the cliff of life and death and having to save their life, knowing that if action hadn’t of been taken they would be dead.

Definitely the latter.

“I’ll text her, see if she can come and pick you up before Vicky comes over?”

You nod your head, allowing yourself to focus back on counting your tally, except moving over to motorcycles this time.

You shower with the bathroom door halfway open. There are no sharps anywhere in your apartment, knives, razors, scissors, nail clippers, vegetable peelers, glasses, anything that could cause any kind of bodily harm. For now, you aren’t allowed to be left alone for longer then an hour. You sleep with your bedroom door open and Alexia sleeping in the guest room next door. You eat a set meal plan, you do two hours of rehab every single day, you live on a schedule that is so carefully planned that you have no time to yourself and yet every single moment feels lonely.

It’s a process, you’ve been told. It’s crucial to your recovery that there are measurements in place to assure your ‘success’.

Alexia knocks on your door every five minutes whilst you shower, you yell back every time.

It had become a rule after the first time you’d showered with the door open you’d made a joke about using the shower curtain to harm yourself, because what did they really expect you to be doing?

It hadn’t gone well, Alexia going silent for a few days and a very heated conversation with your psychologist about the inappropriateness of making jokes about suicide.

It was your trauma, it was your fucking story, and everyone was acting like it was their most sensitive issue.

Bathrooms are a bit of a touchy subject, you don’t shower in your ensuite bathroom anymore, you can’t. The room has permanently been blocked off, completely forgotten about.

The first thing you want to do once you’ve ‘recovered’ is leave this apartment, there are to many bad memories, it feels like you’ll never be able to recover if your stuck in the same place that you were in when it all went bad.

It’s a problem for when you can deal with the stress of packing up your whole life and moving it to somewhere.

When you shut the water off and step out of the warm stream you let yourself breathe, showers are the only real alone time you get. Everywhere else you are supervised, watched like a hawk to make sure that you don’t try anything else that could jeopardise your return to football. The reality is that Barca can’t afford to have you sit on the sideline for a whole season, they need you back, they can’t risk another slip up.

Alexia at least gives you the privacy of getting dressed in your own wardrobe, all of your wired bras have been removed, but for the most part it’s all normal.

You get dressed in another sweat suit, it’s become your new uniform over the last few weeks, no draw strings of course.

Your hair gets swept into a messy bun, it’s too much effort to deal with the brushing and braiding and tying that you would have normally gone through with a couple of weeks ago. You aren’t allowed to wear jewellery anymore so your accessories consist of pretty much nothing. You’re bare from the bones to your clothes, your soul feels as bare as the rest of your body.

You’re allowed to wear laced shoes, but you often opt not to, slip on birkenstocks or uggs are just easier. The Barcelona January chill has been getting to you recently, so you upt for your ugg boots.

Your outfit choice is the most choice you get in your day, so you try and put as little thinking into it as possible, it’s easier for you to just succumb to the reality that everything in your life is controlled by other people.

By the time you’ve finished, you’re towing very close to the time Mapi had told Alexia she’d come and meet you. You collect the things that you might need from your vanity and shove them in your pocket, before making your way out to your living room.

It’s unofficially become Alexia’s office, her laptop and books cover your dining table now. She lives out of your apartment, leaves only for training and barcelona commitments, so it’s fair to say that she’s made herself at home.

When you were living together before, it had bothered you more, having her things everywhere. Alexia is a organiser, of everything and everybody but herself. You’d spend hours telling her to pick up her shoes from random spots around the apartment floor or getting her to pick up random clothing items laying on top of pieces of furniture. This mess is different, it reflects how the situation is different. There is nothing comfortable about your predicament, it’s not the same kind of comfortable coexistence you had when you were dating Alexia.

There is a boundary between the two of you now and it makes it all so much more confusing.

Alexia isn’t just your friend or your teammate, she’s you caregiver, the person who holds you accountable, unofficially the person who is supposed to keep you from doing anything to yourself. It adds a whole layer of stress to the situation, you can’t relax around her the same way you used to.

Your relationship is never going to be the same, but parts of you wished that Alexia hadn’t taken over the burden of caring for you, because maybe the two of you could work on rebuilding yourselves as a couple instead of Alexia trying to rebuild you as a person, as if you are a broken lego set that needed to be put back together.

She spends most of her time in your living room, doesn’t push the boundary of your bedroom unless it’s needed.

She’s sat at the kitchen table, preparing herself to help with whatever project it is that Vicky needs help with.

“Shouldn’t Vicky have maybe asked one of the younger girls? You’re practically ancient now, they probably teach the kids these days history from when you were growing up.”

Whatever Alexia looks like she’s going to be helping with looks like something she’s definitely not qualified in, although Alexia’s never the person to say no.

“You’re acting like I’m a dinosaur, I’m only four years older then you.”

She rolls her eyes at you and it feels so normal, for a second you feel so much more normal. Life would be so much easier if everybody stopped treating you like a fine fucking piece of china. An eye roll here or there, a yell here or there, some kind of emotion beyond sympathy would be nice.

“I mean, in comparison to Vicky you’re pretty much from the stone ages.”

Alexia rolls her eyes again, she looks like she’s about to fight back against you but a knock at the door silences you both.

All of a sudden the little smile is gone and the air goes thick again, thick with the reminder that you can’t just exist in a bubble of nothingness were nobody else exists and you can just be free from everything.

Alexia gets up to open the door, and you let her, allowing yourself to loiter around the table and enjoy the moment for just a little bit longer. It’s that moment that might just get you through what is about to happen.

Alexia calls for you and you know it’s Mapi, you know it’s Mapi because Mapi won’t step foot in your apartment.

Ingrid had come to visit when you’d come home, along with a handful of other people, but Mapi hadn’t been one of them. Ingrid had explained that it had been to hard for her, that she’d made it to the door but couldn’t come in, and you couldn’t find it in you to blame her.

Mapi smiles at you when she sees you, it’s the first time you’ve seen her since the hospital and the both of you look very different since then.

She looks less dead, that’s the first thing you take notice of. She doesn’t look like she would blow away into a puff of smoke if a gust of wind came past. She looks good, she looks healed.

Mapi and you don’t talk, for whatever reason, you take the normal walk you would every sunday morning before it happened.

Down from your apartment, onto the main street, up to the mouth of the road, across the street and then onto the boardwalk.

It’s the main reason you chose your apartment, it’s right next to the beach. Perfect for post matchday swims and a morning walk on the beach. It used to be yours and Mapi’s pregame routine and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm of your feet moving down the sidewalk.

No words are spoken until the two of you are seated on the sand, a wordless agreement that you both come to when your toes hit the beach.

You’re both seated, your eyes looking over the horizon. Your too scared to break the silence, so you wait for Mapi.

“You look good, chica.”

You nod your head, you feel better, you must look better then how you did.

“I feel better.”

Mapi nods, when her hand reaches out to sit on top of your own on the sand, you don’t flinch away, it feels good to have a physical connection with a person who isn’t Alexia.

The silence falls over the two of you again, except this time it feels less uncomfortable. You let it linger for a little bit, before you feel in a place to speak.

“I need to say thank you. I know I said some things in the hospital, I meant it in the moment but I want to take it back now. You saved me, you did something so brave and amazing and the version of me now is so grateful that you did.”

Mapi stops your rant, before you can say something else.

“I would have done it for anybody else.”

The problem is you think, that you aren’t anybody else. It would be so much easier to give cpr to a random person on the street and never see them again, never have to be worried that you would see them again and there would be some kind of problem.

“But you did it for me. You saved me from myself, and I want you to know that I genuinely am so thankful for you. You didn’t choose the easy option and I put you in a extremely hard position. If anything had of happened to me, you would have blamed yourself and it wouldn’t have been your fault but you would have felt like it was.”

Mapi nods, and then you hear a sniffle and it makes you feel horrible.

Mapi’s crying, she’s crying and you don’t know what to do.

“You begged me to reverse it, in the hospital, you didn’t say some things. You begged me to stab you or do something. You told me it was my fault you were alive and that it was my responsibility to undo what I’d done.”

You take a deep breath, you didn’t remember it being that bad, but you remember Alexia telling you that some of the things you’d said had been unrepeatable.

“I can’t reverse what I said, in that moment I was in so much pain Maps. I actually can’t tell you how much pain i was in, all I wanted was to disappear. I’m working through not feeling that way and that starts by apologising. You did not deserve to experience what you did. You did not deserve to see what you did. You did not deserve to hear what I said to you. I am sorry. There is nothing I can say that will make any of it okay, I am sorry that for whatever reason god chose you to be the person burdened with this. I am so sorry.”

Mapi sniffles again. You knew that the possibility of no reconciliation was possible, that Mapi would reject any offer of apologies you had, you’d just really hoped it wouldn’t be like that.

“You’ve been like a little sister to me. I know you didn’t feel like we were that close, but I saw so much of me in you from when I was younger, and that was part of the reason I ended up at your apartment that night. Because I was worried, more then anybody else. I had this weird feeling, and I hated that I was right about it. You were like my little sister, and I watched as they strapped you onto a gurney and wheeled you off whilst telling me that they would try their hardest. I don’t blame you, there is no blame for something like this. But I need you to understand that I can’t just get over what I www, I’m working through it, I’m trying. My therapist has really been helping me, but it’s not going to disappear.”

You nod, Mapi and you have been through two mirroring experiences, and oddly you feel the same way about your own therapy. You’re working through it, you’re trying, but nothing that has happened is ever going to disappear, with yourself or with your peers.

“Maps, you’re allowed to experience however you want. If you never want to see me again I won’t hate you.”

Mapi shakes her head.

“I don’t know how I feel yet, I just need you to know that I understand that the you right now is different to the you from weeks ago, and you are entitled to separate yourself from that person. You don’t have to be that person if you don’t want to be. Let yourself live in the new version of you, the old version died back then.”

You bite your lip, there is beginning to become a permanent divet from your front teeth, you like it in a weird way.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying.”

Mapi nods, raising her arm from your hand, to your shoulders, bringing you into her side.

“We’ll try together then, huh? You try for me and I’ll try for you?”

You nod your head, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re totally alone in the battle that you’re fighting. It’s still very much your battle, but it feels like you have somebody in your corner letting you know that you are going to be okay.

—————————————

well aware it’s not edited… if u have an issue with that such my dick xoxo

hope you enjoyed !!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[the-fiction-witch]

A Star

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1504

Y/n stood looking out the castle window towards the bay, her body was tired, her mind was tired, and the crying of baby Orion didn’t seem to be helping very much. She bounced the baby on her hip having sent the wet nurses away, even if she was starting to wonder if that was the best idea but felt it too fast to call them back. In the hope of calming baby Orion, she sang a sweet little tune that seemed to calm the crying baby. Orion was only a few days old and Y/n had become so very protective of him, not wanting the nurses, wet nurses, milkmaids, or even her husband to touch the baby but that had meant she had been awake almost the whole time since Orion’s birth.

"What are you singing?" Aegon asked, he stood by the door a cup of wine in hand after a meeting with his small council, "He likes it. The baby..."

Y/n jumped and instinctively pulled baby Orion to her chest, she stopped her song and held her breath,she looks to him in the doorway of their chambers and quickly looked to the floor, "I uh I suppose so, I'll stop if-"

He stood there for a moment, and his gaze met her. He saw the fear in her eyes, and the baby in her arms, he felt guilty that his wife feared him so, but it was not like he hadn’t given her good reason to. He slowly approached, placing a hand in Orion's soft Targaryen hair, gently caressing it trying to show her that he cared for their child and wasn’t a threat to them, "No... keep singing."

"Are you sure I don't want to bother you, your grace…"

He nodded, his eyes fixated on Orion. "It calms him. Besides... I like hearing you sing..."

She nodded and continued even if her voice was low and often tripped on her words, her eyes often meeting Aegon’s, as she bounced baby Orion a little in her arms soothing him with her song,

Aegon's gaze never left Orion, who appeared to almost fall asleep in her arms. Aegon approached even closer, standing right beside her and admiring Orion's tiny features. It seemed… since Orion’s birth it was as if the baby's presence began to change something in Aegon, Perhaps seeing his child really had affected him or perhaps he for the first time truly understood the pain and suffering he had caused for his bride. He gently touched Orion's cheek, feeling his soft skin. "You named him after the Star, didn't you...?"

she nodded "I uhh .. I can change it if you'd -"

He shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face as he gently caressed Orion's cheek. "No, it's an apt name. He's a star among us, after all. My son." Aegon's expression was different now, softer. For a moment, he didn't look like the troubled prince but rather a devoted father

"I thought it was a nice name, and Orion Targaryen sounds like a nice name for a prince"

"Yes, indeed..." Aegon agreed, still fascinated by Orion's tiny facial features. The baby's skin felt like silk under his fingers, and the innocent expression on Orion's face as he struggled to keep his eyes open mesmerized the prince. He couldn't believe this baby was his flesh and blood. "I'll hold him for a while. You go, take some rest."

She looked fearful when he took the baby, frightened of what could happen. She shook her head and clutched the baby to her chest,

“Please Y/n, you need to rest I promise you I will be careful,” he said setting down his wine taking her cheek in his hand and pressing his forehead to hers, “Trust me, as a king, as a husband, as his father…”

Part of her didn't completely trust Aegon. But she nodded and slowly handed baby Orion over, the moment the baby left her arms she began to pick at her nails and breathe deeply her lips trembling,

Aegon carefully cradled Orion in his arms, his large but surprisingly gentle hands holding the baby securely. He rocked Orion gently and spoke softly. “Hello little prince, feels like forever since I held you last,” He cooed, The baby seemed to almost immediately settle and relax against Aegon's chest. Aegon looked as if he would hold Orion all night this way, staring intently at his own son with a mix of pride and love in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he suddenly asked her, not taking his eyes off the baby.

"I ... I don't know"

Aegon placed Orion into his crib and then pulled her down and sat beside her by the fire. He could see the worry and fear on her face. "What's wrong?" he asked in a soft tone, gently grasping her hand in his. He seemed genuinely worried about her well-being rather than angry.

"I feel rather ... Useless now," she said "we married. I gave you a son. I suddenly feel in danger. Like I could be ... Washed out with the tide,"

Aegon understands her concerns. He gently squeezed her hand. "You are not useless. You have given me a gift beyond measure. A son. That is something no one can take from you. You are the mother of my child, the mother of a prince." He gently lifted her chin, making her look into his eyes. "You are my wife, and I won."

"won?"

Aegon nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "I won you. From the very first day I met you, all I thought was how I can win you. The girl who seemed so indifferent and reserved, it drove me mad that I could not win you easily." He brushed his fingers gently across her cheek and continued. "But I won. You bear my child, my heir. You are bonded to me forever now."

"I suppose that's true... I'm sure soon you will be wanting your spare?"

Aegon smirked slightly, then gently brushed his hand over the top of her head, caressing her hair. "Yes… but that's something we'll talk about soon." He then sighed slightly as he looked into her eyes. "But for now, I think you need to rest. You're still recovering from childbirth. You went through a lot."

"I suppose I did ..." She said trying to belittle her own work

Aegon shook his head, "No. Don't you dare downplay what you went through? Bringing a new life into the world is no small task. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you experienced, but I know it's nothing to look down upon." He looked at her with genuine admiration and concern. "I want you to take care of yourself. Rest, eat properly, and heal. You deserve it."

"as you command your grace" she nodded

He gently took her hand again and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the back of her hand. "Good. Now, rest well." He placed her hand gently back on her lap and stood up, walking to Orion's crib and smiling down at the sleeping baby. "And don't worry about Orion. I'll care for him and let you rest peacefully."

she nodded and got up nervously heading towards the bed chamber but she stopped and turned back, "don't let him sleep on his stomach, your grace"

Aegon raised his eyebrow and turned towards her. "Oh? Is there a specific reason?" He knew next to nothing about infants, but he was willing to listen carefully to her advice.

"he can smother himself in his pillow"

Aegon blinked, surprised by the explanation. "Ah! I hadn't thought of that. Thank you for the advice." He moved closer to the crib and gently adjusted Orion, rolling him onto his side rather than his stomach. He then turned back to her and smiled gently. "Is this better?"

"yes, think of babies as ... Little drunk people, anything you'd be worried about when leaving a drunk friend worry about a baby doing," she nodded "Wake me at the hour of the wolf, he will need to feed then"

Aegon raised an eyebrow upon hearing the analogy. "Little drunk people? Interesting way to put it. Reminds me of myself in a way." He then nodded and gave her a reassuring look. "I'll wake you as promised. We'll take care of him and keep him safe." Aegon returned to her side, leaning down to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Now sleep. You've earned it."

she nodded and went into the bedroom keeping the door open in case the baby was to cry and not expecting Aegon to deal with it,

Aegon watched as she went into the bedroom, his gaze lingering on the door for a moment, once he knew Y/n was sleeping he went over and closed the door quietly so he could get a good sleep before turning his attention back to Orion. He gently brushed his fingers against the baby's soft cheek one more time and whispered softly. "Sleep well, my son." With that, he settled into his chair nearby, ready to watch over the baby until the hour of the wolf came.

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3 Originally, I was going to make this a half-chapter because I wrote this on my phone while at work, but I decided I'm a bitch who doesn't do half-chapters. Anyway, here's this one. Sorry for any mistakes, it was slightly rushed because I wanted to get something out there since I've been away from the keyboard for a good moment!

Nanny in The Attic

Alfred had asked you to get some spring decorations from the attic, and you were happy to oblige. You loved decorating, it brought a sense of wonderment to your life that was otherwise filled with the endless tasks of being a caretaker. So, you took to the attic like a moth to a flame. There were boxes upon boxes, old coats strewn about, a creepy-looking rocking horse in one corner, and copious amounts of dust. 

“The box is labeled but I couldn’t tell you where the damned thing is,” Alfred said as he flipped on the light. “If you like, you could wait until I return. It might be easier.” 

You waved him off as you ventured further into the room. “No, no. You’re a busy man, Alfred. Plus, the kids are at school, and this will give me something to do today.”

“Very well, then, have at it,” The old man said, heading towards the attic stairs. “Master Bruce is working from home today, and there’s an intercom on the wall over there if you want to call for help should you need it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

You looked over to where the butler was pointing. “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get fancier. Thanks, Alfred. I’ll see you later.” 

With a wave, he left. You began to pull apart the attic in search of the alleged spring decor, and it seemed almost hopeless. There were just too many boxes. There was Christmas (which you couldn’t wait to see), Halloween, and just about every holiday decor that had ever existed. Some boxes were full of pictures and jewelry. You took a peek into some, just out of pure curiosity, and were amazed by just how old some of these things were.

Then, you stumbled onto one box that had photo albums from within the past thirty years and decided to look through them. It took you very little time to realize that these were albums of Mr. Wayne’s family.

You smiled, looking at a smaller version of your boss, as you realized just how much Damian looked like him. You also noted just how much Bruce looked like his father. Eerily so. That had to do something to his psyche. His mother was a beauty, too. You found her headshot sitting right under one of the photo albums. She had curly reddish brown hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Bruce’s. Mr. And Mrs. Wayne were a handsome couple with the world at their feet, but that was cut short the day they died. You were almost too young to remember but could recall some family member bursting into the kitchen to announce that the Wayne family had been murdered. It wasn’t entirely true, only Mr. And Mrs. Wayne had been killed— leaving behind a traumatized little boy. 

“Poor Mr. Wayne,” you said to yourself before putting the albums back. “Now, where in the hell is that box?” 

You looked around the room, eyes scanning when you saw it. The box was high up on a shelf labeled ‘spring’ in black Sharpie. After moving some more boxes out of the way, you began to make a path so it would be easier to move. It was going to be so easy and perfect, you thought. Once all the boxes were out of the way, you could grab the step ladder and get what you needed. 

Setting the ladder up, you climbed it, but the box was still just out of reach. You supposed that the shelf could support some of your weight, so you lifted your leg to step onto it. What you hadn’t seen was an old broken vase jutting out from one of the boxes. You felt the pain of it cutting into your leg before you knew what it was. With a cry, you fell back hard onto the floor. 

“Ow, ow,” you said, pushing yourself up. Looking down at your leg, blood was streaming from the wound. Alfred would not be happy about this, you thought. Putting your hand over the cut so not all the blood would drip onto the floor, you awkwardly made your way over to the intercom. 

You had no clue how to use it and began pressing buttons. 

“Mr. Wayne,” you would say when it sounded like you got through to a room. “Mr. Wayne, are you there?”

Finally, after about ten minutes, you got a voice coming through the other end, “Everything alright?”

“Aha! Mr. Wayne, I cut my leg pretty bad and think I need a first aid kit. Could I trouble you to bring me one?” 

“I’ll be right there,” he said. Before you could say anything back, the line went dead. 

Grumbling to yourself, you made your way to the attic stairs to sit and wait for your rescue. Blood was pooling between your fingers, and you could feel it slowly get closer to your socks. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” You looked up to see Mr. Wayne rushed up the attic steps with an aid kit in hand before stopping right in front of you. “Alright, let me see.” 

You moved your hand to the side, but couldn’t bring yourself to see just how bad it was. He put his hand on your knee to keep your leg steady, and you couldn’t help but notice just how big and warm his hand was. 

“Luckily, you don’t need stitches, just a clean-up and some bandages.” 

“What should I do?” You asked, hands already going for the kit. 

Bruce didn’t let you get close enough to grab it before he picked it up. He didn’t say anything as picked out the hydrogen peroxide, some ointment, and bandages. Pouring a little of the hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball, he slowly started to wipe at your leg. You yelped from the sudden sting and pushed his hand away. 

“Stop it, that hurts,” you said meekly. “Ow! Bruce, please.”

He stopped to look at you, eyes meeting yours and thumb starting to trace small circles on your knee, before speaking, “Sorry, just hold still. It won’t take much longer.” 

He began to dab the cotton ball back on the wound again, and this time you were prepared for the sting. As he worked on your wound, you stared at him. Mr. Wayne wasn’t just a handsome man, but he was pretty, too. He had the type of looks that befitted a character in a fantasy novel rather than a traumatized rich boy. His eyes, though, were such an intense blue that they were hard not to look at.

You thought out loud, “You have your mother’s eyes.” 

Bruce whipped his head up to look at you, eyes narrowing. “What?” 

You tried to not let the embarrassment show through. It was a fact that just so happened to slip from your mouth. “You have your mother’s eyes. I saw a picture of her earlier.” 

Bruce broke his gaze and continued working on your leg, now putting the bandage on. “Oh.” 

“Do you remember your parents?” You asked. 

“Yes,” He said after a minute. “Everyone said I looked like my father, but he saw more of my mother.” 

You giggled and took his hand when he offered to help you up. “She must have loved that.” 

“Oh, she did.” For the first time, you saw Bruce smile genuinely. A smile for himself instead of the kids or you. “That’s why she wanted a girl after me, but they never got around to it.” 

“Can’t picture you as an older brother,” you said as you wandered over to the shelf. 

Bruce didn’t say anything to that and changed the subject. He offered to get the box down for you, saying that you didn’t need to be reaching up or doing anything else on your leg. You weren’t going to complain and let him get the box. 

“Good thing you called me,” He said with a grunt. “It’s heavy. Now, where do you want it?” 

“The living room would be a good place to start,” you said before you checked the time. You still had a couple of hours before the kids got home, but thought that perhaps you could wait. “Maybe I should wait for the kids. They may want to help.” 

“Alfred would rather burn the manor down.” 

You could imagine it. Mr. Wayne brought the kids up in a way that they were very creative, and you could only imagine how that would transfer over in the decor. Alfred was too neat of a person for that. 

Mr. Wayne set the box down on the living room coffee table, making a cloud of dust come up from the box, before turning to you. You smiled kindly and thanked him. He nodded before heading towards the door, he stopped halfway before turning to you. 

“Make sure you clean your wound, you wouldn’t want it to get infected.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” 

He nodded before finally leaving you. You looked back down at the decoration in your hands and huffed. It’d be a lot of work, but if you wouldn’t get it done. 

And, you did as such. By the time Alfred got home with the kids later that afternoon, he was shocked by just how well you did. The whole house was overflowing with spring delight to the point that he began to ask how you managed such a task. You only told him you had magic hands before you went to tend to the children. They were happy to see you, all of them clamoring about, and noted the bandage on your leg. 

“I got in a fight with a bear today,” you said. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “You’re such a liar.” 

Bruce suddenly popped into the kitchen where all of you were. “It’s true. I was there. I helped fight off the bear.” 

“Are there even bears in New Jersey?” Jason asked, curiously. 

Duke, on the other hand, looked horrified, “Why are there bears in the backyard, Dad?” 

You were quick to tell him that the two of you were only kidding, that the cut really just came from an accident. Duke seemed relieved, while the other kids were a bit disappointed. When they all ran off to do their own things, Bruce quickly stopped you from joining them. 

“Next time you decide to decorate, let me know in advance.” 

“You don’t like it?”

“On the contrary, actually. What I don’t like is anyone in my household getting hurt.”

You nodded, trying to reason with yourself as to why you had butterflies in your stomach. 

[valiantverses]

Tremors

Ghoap X Reader

Summary: A therapist's waiting room wasn't exactly the place to have the most engrossing conversations. People were usually jittery, tense, or straight-up despondent. Somehow, you manage to strike a strange sort of connection with the retired military couple that had the Thursday slot just after you anyway.

Trigger Warning: Angsty. Discussions of Soap's injuries, the reader has mental health struggles and everyone has communication difficulties to some degree.

A/N: Scuttling out of the woodwork after having a pain flare, a breakdown, a career shift and getting some life altering surgery. Here's a new series while I rework all my previous writing!

Comments, questions, requests and constructive criticisms are welcome. Hate is boring and will go unacknowledged.

_

Maybe therapy wasn't for you.

Baring your soul to a total stranger and unearthing your life to be scrutinised by somebody. Then having that somebody turn around and drop you as a client because you were 'beyond their scope' and recommending you to someone else. It left an acrid sort of burn at the back of your throat as you settled into the sofa in the cheery waiting room of your hastily found counsellor.

Tick.

The leather underneath your fingers was squeaky. Static-y. The kind of leather where the grooves of the well-worn parts of the couch were buttery smooth and a slightly darker shade of black until it reached the bits that weren't quite as worn.

Tock.

The sound of papers shuffling and a low voice calling out a name drew your attention. It wasn't yours. Wordlessly, you watched a woman to your left stand up. The rubber of her cane cracked across the linoleum as she she signed her name on to the clip board at the desk, murmured her greetings to the therapist and made her way inside, the door shutting with a soft click.

Tick.

St. Jude-Thaddeus Hospital's Rehabilitation and Pain Management Clinic had the honour of being the only facility of any sort in your area that offered psycotherapy services. Affordable ones, anyway. Something to do with being integrated into the Ministry of Defense Hospital Units for disabled veterans- but you didn't need to know, so you didn't ask.

You'd take what you could get.

Tock.

You glance up at the clock once more, seeing that you were now close to 10 minutes to your first ever appointment with this therapist. A part of you wanted to fast forward the next 40 minutes of your day. Maybe the next few hours. Get to the point where your obligations were done and the first meeting was over and done with.

Tick.

When the door opens next, you don't look up this time. You try to contain the shake of your hands and focus on that squeaky leather underneath you. The thumps of footsteps don't register before the slight sink of the couch does. When you glance up, it is to the bluest eyes you could imagine.

He was handsome, a part of your brain helpfully informed you. Dark eyelashes framing a sort of azure blue, shards of indigo flecked about like sleet in the rain. His tanned skin had that slight leatheriness that could only come from working under the sun, the hand jutted out towards you littered with callouses-

"-hnny MacTavish, haven't seen you round here before."

Your hand moves mechanically to accept his handshake, mouth producing syllables you knew was supposed to be your name.

Realising the beat of conversation had stretched on longer than it should and it was now your turn to fulfill your part of the social contract that the stranger had looped you into, you broke eye contact and glanced back down at the worn linoleum.

"It's my first time."

There was a snort to the other side of you, from a bulky man sat diagonally from the line of chairs you and Johnny were sat in.

You quickly ammend your statement "-with this therapist. Just moved in."

His bulk seemed to carve away the space of the room, hulking shoulders leading to a thickly corded neck, lower face covered in a black face mask and his eyes a thin ring of deep ocean blue. What little skin you could see of his face looked sallow. Drained.

"Ignore tha' git. Insists on tagging along with me like I'm a wee wain and wreaks havoc of all sorts." The voice from your left supplied as you quickly began reassessing the relationship between the two strangers you found yourself in the middle of.

"You two know each other?"

There was a rumble to your left, a deep bass-y sound you realised was laughter. "Could say that, ma'am. "

"My partner," Johnny supplied, eyeroll evident in his voice as you turned to look at him once more. It was a little overwhelming having to keep turning your head to and fro because of the way the chairs were positioned, and your fingers dug into the leather once more.

Slippery, smooth. Pebbled with some long indentations.

"That's Simon. We've been at this shrink for give or take four months now-"

"Fifteen weeks."

"*-would'a noticed a bonnie lass like you on our weekly, enlightening visits." His quip was cheery, but there was an element of sarcasm you couldn't quite place.

This conversation felt like navigating a field full of landmines. Couldn't ask about his condition, why the weekly visits rather than the gold standard (That is, the national healthcare coverage) of every two weeks, why fifteen weeks- so you asked the only thing you felt you could.

"She any good? The counselor, I mean."

Johnny blinked, head tilting and making eye contact with his partner - Simon - there was a flash of something twisting across his face as the wordless conversation happened in a split second.

It was fascinating. The sort of communication that only happened when two people had an intimate well of knowledge of the other person.

Then dawn broke across Johnny's face and he turned back to you with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Aye, lass. Not afraid to crack into your brain and really dig around. Well good laugh too, great to interact with given I've really only spoken to four people or so since I retired an' all."

You tried not to read between the lines. Tried not to stare at the way he leaned back to rub at the jagged line across his scalp, the puckered edges evident under the peach fuzz of dark hair. He was giving you what he could without dragging a stranger into his own vortex of struggles. You could relate.

"Retired? From military service?"

Regret looked different on people's faces. For some, there was a grimace. Maybe a slight widening of the eyes in realisation, or a hitch in their breath. Self-reproach for bringing it up in the first place. For Johnny, it appeared to be a slight furrowing of his brows and a darkening of his sky blue eyes as he edged backwards.

A cough and the scraping of the chair behind you drew your attention, looking to your right to meet the cold stare of the blond. Briefly, you felt like a cornered animal. Your hands grew still. His gaze was assessing, stony face giving nothing away except the overwhelming vibe of back the fuck off. His eyes flicked over your shoulder and then back to yours.

"Sounds like they're finishing up in there. You should sign in."

It appeared you had clambered out of the field of land mines only to immediately fall into a sinkhole.

Stuttering your goodbyes, you make to stand up, making the same trek the young lady had towards the desk. You fought to control the tremors of your hands. One stayed tucked deeply in a pocket as the other wrote your name down through sheer muscle memory. Sure enough, the door opened and the woman walked out with her mobility aid, a cheery voice calling out your name from inside.

As your shaky palm took hold of the doorknob to twist it so you could enter the room, you caught snippets of the conversation happening behind you.

"Bothering you-"

"-Ost, It would have been fine-"

"Your hands were shaking again-"

"Ach- I had it under control!"

"You don't owe strangers anything. Not after everything you've-"

"Please- I just- I need to have a feckin' conversation about it without breaking down-"

The door shut with a click.

As you sat down in front of your new therapist, you resolved to try and move your appointments to a different day.

[illusioninfnty]

Bite Me, Suck Me, Stake Me!

જ⁀➴ Vampire & Hunter : Day 29

feat. Simon "Ghost" Riley ᯓ★ Ghost is a skilled vampire hunter, but you're an even better vampire. Too bad you haven't convinced him to let you take a little bite out of him yet...

warnings! : NSFW 18+, fingering, degradation, name-calling, semi-public sex, hate sex, choking, biting, cum eating, blood play, blood as lube

ᯓ★ kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Found you.”

The cool silver of a knife digs into the skin of your neck, as a familiar gravelly voice rings out from behind you in the alleyway.

“Ghost.” You smirk, remaining calm. “What a surprise,” you say sarcastically. You and Ghost have been constantly going back and forth with each other ever since he started hunting vampires in your area. It’s like a game at this point. You hunt for food, he chases after you, you run.

You know you can kill him with ease if you so please, but he dicks you down so nicely that you let him slide just for that. 

The sharp tip of a wooden stake digs into your back as Ghost presses himself against you. “No sudden moves or I stake you where you stand, vamp.”

He spits out the words with venom, but you know it means naught.

“Just like you promised me last time? And the time before that, and before that, and—”

A grunt sounds from the vampire hunter as the stake digs itself further into your back, interrupting your teasing words. You bite your lip to prevent the hiss of pain from rolling off of your lips.

“Not this time. Price is on my ass now. Can’t have any more screw-ups happening under my watch.” He leans in closer to you, his hot breath a stark contrast to your cool skin as it hits your cheek. “And it seems like you’ve been causing more and more trouble these days. More than I can afford.”

“How else am I supposed to get your attention?” you drawl out, running a hand up his muscular, tattooed arm. You feel the way he clenches from your touch, his veins pulsing as the blood rushes in his body. You lick your lips, running your tongue over your exposed fangs. With your free hand, you flick his hood off of his head, getting a look at his beady, intense eyes as they stare you down.

“I missed you,” you say, running a hand down his front, reaching down to grab his bulge. “And I missed him, too.”

“Fucking tease,” he hisses, but you can tell he’s getting all riled up by the way his cock throbs in your hand, hardening as the seconds pass by. You begin to fondle him, rubbing his member through his pants as you feel yourself getting wet.

“Such a slut.” Simon’s voice comes out in a growl. The weapons he holds against you are swiftly put away as one hand nestles itself against the back of your neck while the other pushes your pants and underwear down, two digits already fingering at your wet slit. “Causing trouble just to get my attention? Didn’t take you to be such a brat.”

You grumble at the hand that restricts your head movements. Simon is smart—no doubt that he knew you were planning to bite him. Unlike other vampires, you did have some self-control when it came to biting humans, but there was something about the vampire hunter who constantly chased you that enraptured you, desperate to get a taste of the blood pumping through his veins.

“Need you to fuck me,” you tell him bluntly. You attempt to move out of his hold, but Simon has an iron-locked grip on you as he sticks his fingers inside of you. A piercing cry leaves your lips as his fingers curl and thrust inside of you, your wetness allowing him to move them with ease.

“Shit, look at you. Barely even touched you and you're already begging for my cock.”

You only respond with a moan; Simon chuckles as he removes his fingers, and you hear the clink of his belt buckle as he undoes his pants and pulls his cock out.

It only takes a couple of seconds for Simon to align his cock with your entrance and push himself in, the familiar stretch of his member filling you up so nicely, complete in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Fuuuck,” you moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body starts to go limp as Simon thrusts his cock in and out of you with reckless abandon, the clapping of his skin to yours loud enough that you think if someone walks past the alleyway you’re in they’d hear it before they see you.

You yelp as the heat of Simon’s palm meets your ass, snapping your thoughts back to the present, to the pleasure he gives you.

“Focus on me.” His grip tightens around your neck, his hand wide enough to reach around towards the front of it, pressing down hard enough to make your body feel all tingly. His thrusts are relentless, your body powerless to him as he manipulates you to his heart's desire.

“L-let me bite you,” you breathe out, thrashing your head around before Simon stills you. “Just a taste,” your voice trails off, more pathetic sounding than you intended.

Simon snorts. “I’m not letting a vamp bite me.” He ruts his hips against you, his cock filling you to its hilt. “Especially one as reckless as you.”

He ignores your whines of complaint, holding you still with one hand as he fucks up into you, caging you in as his other hand steadies himself against the brick wall.

But yet as Simon becomes distracted with his thrusts, the tightness of his hold on you lessens. You take that as your cue to escape from his grip. The aroused state you’re both in has your senses heightened to the fullest. You can practically hear the blood flowing in his body, the strength of it intensified with the adrenaline that course through his veins as he fucks you. 

You don’t even take a second to think as you sink your fangs into the arm that’s stretched out next to you, a moan escaping as you taste Simon’s sweet, sweet blood for the first time.

“Fuck!” Simon rips his arm away from your bite with a yelp. You gasp as his cock leaves your body as he turns you around, shoving you against the wall, restraining you with a hand around your throat. He squeezes down with the bitten arm, blood flowing from it down towards his fingertips. You laugh as much as you can with your airflow restricted, fangs dripping with his blood. You lick some of it that dribbles out of the corner of your lips, staring teasingly up at Simon through your lashes as you do so.

“Fucking bitch,” Simon growls, teeth practically snarling as he stares you down with malice. “Should fucking stake you for that!”

“You like my cunt too much to do that,” you purr, your arousal heightened more than ever as you’re invigorated by the taste of human blood—human blood that actually tastes good. You open up your legs, baring your sopping cunt to him, bucking your hips up.

As Simon squeezes down on your neck, his flowing blood trickles its way closer and closer to you. Your pupils dilate as you see the stream of red finally get into your reach, licking as much of it as you can up. You didn’t want to waste a drop if you didn’t have to.

“You want my blood that badly?” Simon takes a swipe at his bleeding arm, coating his palm in the liquid. He pumps his cock one, two, three times and then shoves it back into you, blood and all. ‘You can fucking take it like a slut, then.”

Your world turns white as your body fills with immense pleasure as he buries himself into you. He gives you no time to adjust to his size as he begins to thrust wildly. You moan, digging your nails into his skin for stability.

“Careful, big boy,” you start, arousal dripping off of your words, “I might just get addicted to you now.”

“Seems like you already are with the way you’re clenching around me like that.”

You don’t have the strength to answer Simon, the taste of his blood still in your mouth along with the way that his cock stretches you completely, jackhammering its way into places you never knew it could reach, has you feeling euphoric. You don’t even get a warning yourself as you feel yourself cum suddenly, juices squirting all over yourself and him.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck,” you repeat over and over as your body trembles, jolts of electricity moving their way up and down your limbs as your orgasm hits you like a truck.

The rhythm of Simon’s thrusts begins to dissipate, and with a low grunt warmth fills your cunt as he cums inside of you, the hot liquid filling your throbbing entrance.

He pulls out and finally releases his grip on your neck, causing you to grasp on the wall behind you as your legs still shake relentlessly.

You look down to see his cum spill out of you, dribbling down your thighs, turning a light pink color as it mixes with his blood.

Simon swipes a hand at your slit, puffy and sensitive from the sex. You whine as he does so, seeing the way it coats his fingers, a nice and thick viscosity.

“This’ll be the last time you get a taste of my blood. He takes a hand to your jaw, opening it up as he shoves his blood and cum coated fingers down your throat. “Fucking take it.” You slurp on it happily, the sweetness of his blood mixing perfectly with the salty taste of his cum.

“That should keep you occupied for a while.” He mutters. “And me out of trouble for now.”

As you finish licking his fingers clean, Simon pulls his pants up, buckling his belt and throwing his hood back over his head. “Next time we meet will be the last, and it’ll end with a stake implanted in your fucking heart.”

You chuckle as he stalks off, disappearing into the night. You’re not scared of his empty threats. He’s just as addicted to you as you are to him.

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask - CS55

Chapter Five - Moving Pawns

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

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Y/N didn’t come out of her room for the first week she was in Spain. She had Oscar standing guard at her door, keeping her company. And sometimes Lando dropped by, when he wasn’t busy going over business with Carlos and Sainz.

She had food brought up to her room for her and Oscar, which she was grateful for. But Y/N had no contact with anybody of the Sainz family. She had Oscar grab the food for her and couldn’t bring herself to answer when somebody knocked on the door.

But the week was over quickly and, soon, Lando was flying back to England. Y/N hugged him goodbye as they stood at the front door, the entirety of the Sainz family behind them. “I’m gonna miss you, Lan,” Y/N mumbled against his shoulder. Tears had already fallen and she wiped her nose once she pulled away.

“I’ll miss you too, Peanut,” he whispered, squeezing her tight. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Lando wasn’t going to be back for a while, not until the wedding ceremony. And, even then, he’d surrounded by other bosses and heads of family. He’d get two minutes to speak to his sister at most on her wedding day.

After Lando went home, Carlos gave Y/N a couple of days on her own. When he walked past her room he could hear her crying late at night while Oscar patted her back and spoke words of comfort. As soon as they were married Carlos would get rid of Oscar. He’d have his own men watch over her on the rare instance that she wasn’t with him.

After day three, Carlos finally knocked on her bedroom door.

Y/N didn’t pull it open. The face that greeted his wasn’t Y/N’s, but Oscar. “She doesn’t want to see anybody,” Oscar said with little regard for his status compared to Carlos.

Carlos flared his nostrils as he stared at Oscar. His stare was threatening, one that would have scared off anybody else, but Oscar stood firm. If Y/N didn’t see anybody, Oscar was going to do anything he could to make that happen.

“Get out of my way,” Carlos growled.

But Oscar still didn’t move. He kept his stare firm and level, his hand gripping the door, holding it shut. “She doesn’t want to see anybody,” he said again.

Carlos pushed him. Hard. He pushed him so hard that Oscar stumbled back into the room, falling on his ass. Oscar reached down for the gun that wasn’t there, the gun he wasn’t allowed to carry around in Carlos’ house. No matter, Oscar didn’t need his gun to make his point. But he didn’t get a chance, not when Carlos placed his foot on Oscar’s chest and turned towards Y/N.

Her eyes were wide and terrified as she stared at the man she was supposed to marry. “What are you doing?” She squeaked. “Get off of him, please!”

“If you join me in the foyer,” Carlos proposed.

Y/N looked at Oscar. He didn’t look pained, just furious as he stared at Carlos. “Yes, fine, okay!” Y/N insisted and Carlos pulled his foot away from Oscar.

His stared stopped Carlos from standing up. Once he was sure Oscar was going to stay on the floor, Carlos looked at Y/N. The gaze of a powerful man was a terrifying thing, and she couldn’t help but shrink in on herself under his stare. “You have ten minutes,” he said and walked out of the room.

Immediately Y/N rushed over to Oscar and pulled him to his feet. “I’m so sorry, Osc,” she whispered as she brushed off his shirt. “He’s a brute and nothing more.”

Oscar didn’t say anything. He stared down at her, brushing his fingers through the ends of her hair. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry about me.” His stare was just as intense as Carlos’ but it wasn’t nearly as terrifying.

Clearing his throat, Oscar looked away. “I’ll go down there and tell him to fuck off if you want me to,” he said, but Y/N shook her head.

“Oscar, no! He might kill you.”

Oscar gave her a look, one that had Y/N wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek. She pulled away from him and quickly got herself dressed into something more presentable. Y/N sat at the vanity, brushing through her hair as Oscar watched her. She watched him, too, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.

As soon as Y/N was done, she stood and walked over to the door. “I’ll go with you,” Oscar said, standing from his seat on her bed.

But she shook her head. “Stay here, take a break,” she said and walked over to the door. Oscar kept following her. “Osc, please. I’ll be okay,” she reassured him, pressing on his shoulder to get him sitting back on the bed. “If anything happens I’ll text you.”

Reluctantly, Oscar nodded. He watched her go, watched her walk out of the door and shut it behind her.

While Oscar waited anxiously, Y/N walked down the grand stairs. Her legs were shaking as she gripped the handrail. Carlos was waiting in the foyer, his hands in his pockets as he watched her.

“Come,” he said once Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and followed Carlos. He walked past the stairs, taking her to the left side of the house. Y/N hadn’t been here yet, having only been to her room and outside. They passed several doors that were shut, and Y/N didn’t dare look in them. Carlos took her to the end of the corridor and pushed open the door, welcoming her inside the library.

It was gorgeous. Books on shelves at least eight feet high. There were plush arm chairs and doors that led out to the fire pit in the garden. And, on a table in the middle of the library, was a chess set.

“Wow,” Y/N whispered as she walked over to the table. She ran her fingers over the tops of the chess pieces, moving a pawn and putting it back.

“You play?” Asked Carlos as he watched her.

Y/N nodded her head and Carlos pulled out a chair. He sat and gestured for Y/N to do the same. She took her seat but didn’t make the first move. That was okay. She was sitting in his library; that was enough for Carlos. He moved his pawn forward two places.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” He asked when Y/N moved her pawn only one square forward.

“Actually, I do,” Y/N answered. Carlos looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “I remember when your father had a gun pointed at Lando and I.”

Carlos nodded, as though he remembered the event. “Yes, your mother was very angry. She called my father and screamed at him.”

Y/N was just nine years old at the time. Lando was thirteen and Carlos was eighteen. The only reason the boys were friends were because they were two lonely kids in the same world. While their fathers had a business meeting, the had been tasked with looking after Y/N while she played with her toys on the lawn.

She had a doll sat in the back of a toy truck which she pushed through the grass, making the sound affects with her voice. Lando and Carlos sat on the grass, knees up and arms resting on their knees.

Carlos loved following his father to England on business. Usually Carlos would be involved, but they tasked him with watching over Y/N. This business was more serious than Sainz wanted his eighteen-year-old son involved in.

“She looks happy,” Carlos said, his English rather good.

“She is,” Lando said. He loved his little sister dearly; thirteen year old Lando knew the kind of work his father did, knew the kind of work he’d be going into. He knew what would happen to Y/N if he didn’t watch over her. She was the one person he’d kill for.

“Does she know what’s going on?”

Lando shook his head. He looked back at his house, at the window to the office where his Sainz, his father and his stepmother were. His stepmother was looking out of the window as she spoke to the men behind her. Lando couldn’t tell what her expression was as she watched them, watched her daughter playing.

There were shouts, plenty of them, and then the doors to the house were thrown open. Lando was on his feet within seconds, running over to his little sister as Sainz marched out of his house, his father following him.

Sainz marched past them, saying something to Carlos in Spanish as he marched over to his car. “You fucking dare, Sainz!” Norris shouted. He seemed not to notice his children stood between himself and the other head of family.

Sainz spat something in Spanish. “You have done this to yourself, Norris!” He shouted. “Meet my demands and I will reopen our trading routes!”

Suddenly, Norris pulled his gun from the waistband of his trousers. “You’re jeopardising things for all of the families! Do you really want to risk that?” His finger rested on the trigger.

He wouldn’t shout, not when Lando and Y/N were there. Lando was sure of that much. But he didn’t move, far too terrified. Even Y/N had stopped playing with her toys, staring at her dad with tears in her eyes.

Sainz stared past Y/N and Lando with fury in his eyes. “Put that gun away while there are children around!” He shouted.

Norris didn’t move.

Suddenly Sainz had his own gun out, pointing it down at Y/N. He wasn’t going to shoot her, this was just supposed to scare her father. But Lando didn’t know that. He suddenly grabbed his sister and picked her up, shielding her body with his own. Y/N cried against his shoulder, her body shaking as Lando shushed her.

“Tell me more,” Carlos said as they progressed with their game.

Y/N told Carlos everything there was to know about herself. She started with the most obvious thing, which was her love of chess. She had nothing to hide from Carlos since she had no involvement in any of her fathers and brothers business. She went through her hobbies, asking the same of Carlos.

Carlos couldn’t tell much. He didn’t know how much contact she had with Lando (which was none) and didn’t know how much information was going back to him. He told her about his love of golf and fast cars.

It wasn’t easy for Y/N to talk to Carlos. But she used the chess game as a buffer between them, which seemed to ease the tension. Carlos never asked anything that she couldn’t answer, never anything about the Norris family.

He only kept her there for the one chess game, which Y/N won. Carlos wore a smile as he walked her back to her room, glaring at Oscar when he opened the door.

Carlos hated Oscar. As soon as they were married, he’d be gone.

Taglist (open): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner - Azriel (5)

AHHHHH this is the final part and let me tell you I'm SAD. It was so hard to write the ending you all deserve after all this love, so I tried my best. Let me know what you think! Also, you deserve A LOT, so I made it long hehehe. Don't worry, a request about the RATH universe is coming soon! If you want one too, drop it in my inbox!

(1), (2), (3), (4)

Plot: The story of how Azriel fixed what was broken, and how you forgave him.

Warnings: this is sad, but has a happy ending! Also, mental health issues.

No one expected the sidra to froze that year, and against everyone expectation, one day Velaris had woken up to see the riven covered by a silver layer. Children had missed school to skate in the solid surface, parents watching carefully from the edge. Some couples were skating too, holding hands and giggling endlessly.

You had been watching the new scene unfold all morning. And while you usually loved snow and ice as much as any child in town, you were starting to get a little sick of all the noise.

It wasn’t your new employee situation, who had been staring at the river all morning. She had already finished her duties, but always the polite and nice girl, Elain Archeron was keeping you company.

When you spotted for the third time the familiar red-head through the glass and she didn’t say anything, just sighed, you decided you had enough.

“You should tell him to get in before he freezes to death” you commented, still busy with measuring the ingredients.

“Oh, no” Elain blushed and looked away from the window. “No. He’s just… He can wait”

“He can, but doesn’t have to. You and Lucien should head out, rent ice skates and have a fun day. You already finished here” you smiled kindly at her, and before she could reply, you added. “I’m fine, I don’t even like cold weather. And I still need to finish this, which you can’t help me with. So, go”

Elain stared at you with uncertainty, and you tried to look as convinced as possible. Would you have liked her to stay? After all, she was one of the few people you socialized with these days. She had turned in when you opened the bakery again, right after you posted the sign about looking for a new partner.

And even if you had had your doubts when you discovered she was Feyre’s sister and Azriel’s friend, you considered her your own friend.

So, yeah, you would have liked her to stay. Because you were still awfully sad all the time, and her company was one of the few things that made your day better. But you being sad didn’t excuse her missing a wonderful day with her mate.

“It’s not closing time yet” her eyes danced between the glass and you. “He was supposed to wait for me at the house”

“Guess he’s too eager to see you. He’s been dancing around the bakery for a good hour” you chuckled. “Elain, I mean it. Go. Have fun. I’ll see you on Monday”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like it will unfreeze”

“And I promise I don’t mind at all. So, go, have fun and tell me about it on Monday” you gripped her hand softly over the counter, nodding to the waiting mal outside. “Come on, go”

Lucien was once more outside the bakery, the only visible part of him his red hair. He was covered in thick layers, but still managed to smile when Elain kissed your cheek and took her coat on the way out.

You didn’t have it in you to watch them be affectionate with each other, so you looked down at your task and decided it would be the last of the day.

It was hard watching all those couples walking hand in hand and remembering the feel of his warm, scarred hand in yours. To hear a man laughing and remember the unexpected laughs you dragged out of him sometimes. Even looking at the river was painful, because you could almost see the ghost of Azriel and you learning how to skate in a frozen lake in the Illyrian mountains a few years ago.

You had seen Azriel around a few times now, walking through your bakery and waving at you through the glass. Two times he had been waiting at the door when it was late at night, silently walking you home from afar without talking. Almost two months had passed by and your feelings were still as messed up as before.

Though you didn’t cry as much as before, and you were starting to get better, you still wondered.

If Azriel getting help would mean your relationship would be fixed, or if it was broken permanently. Deep in your thoughts, and used as you were to Azriel’s shadows, you didn’t notice how they tugged on your apron until the door sounded again.

Elain’s name didn’t leave your lips, because as soon as the door opened, you lost your breath.  As if you had summoned him, Azriel walked through the door, beautiful as ever. He wasn’t in his usual training leather, but winter clothes that fit him as a glove. Instantly, you noticed he had lost weight. His shoulders were slumped and his body didn’t carry the usual grace of an Illyrian warrior.

“Hi”

His scarred hands, that had held you so many times and slaughtered so many enemies, were tucked in his coat’s pockets. You could feel the nervousness through the bond, the hesitance. Too stunned to answer, you only stared at him.

You had known that, eventually, he would talk to you. That you would have to do more than just wave at each other through the glass and stay silent when he sent you details through Elain. But still, you hadn’t expected it.

Unable to move, you only blinked.

“I saw Elain and Lucien heading out” he added, not looking away from you. “It’s a nice day outside”

Azriel hadn’t finished before one of his new shadows scaped his control, sneaking around the counter. The familiar ones, that had been by your side since he left, danced around the new intrusion. It lifted your apron, and crawled up your neck.

The cool feeling was the last of your worries, because no matter how much you willed yourself to say something, you couldn’t even tear your eyes from him.

The bond flickered between the two of you, once more. Knowing that it was one-sided, that he didn’t wear it like you did, made break your trance.

“She’s finished for the day” you explained, sounding way more confident that what you felt.

“It’s a nice day, yeah” he repeated, not giving you time to feel awkward before he continued “I thought that maybe you wanted to take a walk with me. It’s cold, but we could… get coffee. Or chocolate, if you want”

Azriel gave you a half, broken smile. Hearing his voice again made you take ten steps backward.

“I have things to do”

You looked down to your current task, which could be easily discarded. You had left much important things half-done because of him, and you would have done it normally without a second thoughts. But no matter how heartful the conversation at your door had been, you just knew you weren’t ready to have a conversation without getting angry.

You knew you weren’t ready to forgive him.

His new shadow gripped your wrist tightly before disappearing, and you heard Azriel’s doubt. He wanted to say something else, and you wanted too. Still, you fell back to your measuring and ignored the way your vision blurred, how your knees became weak again.

Maybe going back to your duties was the only way not to break down again.

The silence continued for a long minute. You couldn’t not feel his presence, the way his scent filled the bakery and made your stomach turn. Your heart recognized what you needed, what you wanted, and threatened to jump out of your chest.

Before you could regret your words, Azriel opened the door again.

“You’re forgetting the yeast” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When you looked up again, he only smiled. You opened your mouth to tell him to wait, maybe to fuck off and never come again. You didn’t have time, because Azriel closed the door behind him and he was gone.

The first tear fell against the unformed dough, followed by many more. You wouldn’t be finishing the blueberry cake that afternoon, you realized, as you crunched behind the counter and cried.

-

There was a storm coming, and everyone in Velaris had had the same idea – run to the market, buy everything they needed for a few days, and crowd themselves at home with their loved ones. You were trying to follow the first part of the plan, not having anyone to go home anymore. And if that wasn’t enough reason to drag you down, the crowd was getting intense.

Velaris’ market was a beautiful place, full of shops and nice vendors. But that day, the space felt too small.

You already had a few bags with you, yet there were a few more to go. Wanting to finish as soon as possible, you had ignored the rational part of your brain and had gotten in the middle of the crowd. You had only managed to buy milk and pasta, and still had a long way to go.

After Azriel’s brief appearance, your life had been messier than before. He had come by the bakery at least five times more, always offering you some kind of plan you rejected. Going to the park, for a flight or to a coffee shop. Taking walks, watching the sunset or training together.

You lived now half-prepared to see him walking through your door again, and not having the heart to tell him no. You weren’t sure if that thought frightened or comforted you.

In your haste, you had almost forgotten to buy provisions for the storm, and had found yourself on the worst day to do them. Crowded, loud and suffocating, that was how you would describe the market at that moment.

The fact that most people ran with their children and family wasn’t helpful at all.

Most of the times, it was Azriel who did the last-minute shopping for you. He knew you didn’t like crowds, loud places, that you did best in your bakery where only five people were allowed at a time.

Another shove broke you down from your daydreaming, and you looked back to see a pregnant woman staring with her eyebrows furrowed.

“The line is moving” she spatted, pointing to the small space ahead of you. “If you don’t move with it, you should step out”

“Oh, no” you chuckled softly. You picked up the bags on the ground and took the two small steps that you were supposed to. “Sorry, I just thought I could take a little bit more space. It’s crowded here”

“I don’t mind crowds, so if you want to step back, let me get first. I’m in a hurry”

“Me too” you gave her a polite smile, mindful of her state.

The short distance that separated you from the customer on the front was certainly not enough, and she knew it. Still, she looked at you with disapproval. There were only five more people to go until it was your turn, you could buy your snacks and run to the next stall.

You thought you could ignore the glare at the back of your neck, and you did for a few minutes. Without meaning to, you thought how everything with Azriel was easier. Not only people wouldn’t dare to talk to him like that, but also, he assured you a good meter of distance between you two and the rest of the world with his wings.

The snacks on your hands almost fell when, not even two seconds after the man took three steps forward, you were shoved again.

That time, when you looked back, the woman was accompanied by her mate. His wings covered her from the people behind them.

“You should really step out of the line” she repeated. “You might have all the time in the word, but we are in a hurry”

“Me too. You can’t expect me to be glued to that man” you tried to explain, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He just moved”

“And you didn’t, which proves my point. Besides, it’s obvious you only have a few things. We have more”

“Which should be enough reason to let me go first, not only because I was here before you” you shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable when the male huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s you who shouldn’t have come here today if you can’t wait in a line”

You weren’t a threat for the woman, and you were trying really hard to be polite and prove your point. Besides, being pregnant wasn’t an easy task, and you could tell she was far along. Maybe you should have let her pass, or maybe told her to fuck off.

But before you could argue further, something clicked in the male’s eyes, wide with recognition.

And you would have preferred for him to go full berserk mode on you. Because you recognized that look, you had been receiving them for a while now.

The male elbowed the woman’s side softly, pointing with his chin towards you. You didn’t have time to turn back and avoid the conversation, because he spoke.

“You’re the shadowsinger’s mate” he announced, loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Oh” the woman finally connected the dots and lunged forward to grab your arm so tight you couldn’t shake her off. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry” you pushed your arm back, trying to let go.

While the woman apologized, you couldn’t help but listen to the whispers. The same ones you had heard in your bakery and through the streets. Some of them thrown in your face by rude or nosy customers that didn’t understand the concept of privacy, others by bystanders.

At the end, it was the woman who said it out loud, confirming what everyone in the small circle that had formed at the cue was wondering about. She finally let go of your arm and crossed hers in front of her body.

The look of pity wasn’t as bad as the confirmation.

“He rejected you, right?” it wasn’t a question, not when you didn’t answer and she continued. “We heard you’ve been mated for almost a century and he doesn’t want the bond. Is that true?”

It wasn’t true, but you didn’t have the heart to correct her. Instead, you turned around and used your wing-less privileges to sneak through the crowd. You kept your head down, as if that could stop you from hearing the comments or feeling the stares.

People had come up with an alternative version where Azriel and you had been mated for decades, for centuries. Where you had cheated on him or he had changed you for someone else. You had even heard that he had bonded with another person and had kicked you out of the house, and that you had been the one rejecting the bond.

Each version was farthest from the truth than the last one, but they all hurt the same. The crowd didn’t seem to get thinner no matter how deep you got in the market. Once the people who had heard the conversation were left behind, new people crowded you, worried about the girl panicking and running through the middle of the market.

There were a few occasions where you thought you would fall, where you tripped and almost embarrassed yourself farther. You had almost made it to the back entrance of the market when you finally realized you were tripping no more. There was no longer a crowd around you, nor whispers or hands reaching your way.

It took you another few steps to fully stop and assess the situation. When you looked back to see where the crowd was, you were met with a broad chest inches away from you. Through tearful eyes, you recognized Azriel’s wings tucking you away from people, his mere presence pushing them away.

You met his hazel eyes, full of worry and regret. His hair was longer, covering his brow, but you found comfort in his crooked nose, in his freckles, that you knew so well.

You noticed in his hands your bags that had been left in the stall, a new one with the snacks you were about to buy.

“What – what are you doing here?” you choked out, too grateful for the sudden moment of peace to wonder about anything else.

“I felt you through the bond, a few hours ago. Anxious and…” he stopped himself, his eyes scanning every tear that marked your cheeks. “I was just getting here when it got worse. I heard most of it. I’m –”

“Don’t say you’re sorry” you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault”

Out of the many things that were indeed his fault, people not minding their own business wasn’t his. You were used to him blaming himself for everything, from wars in other courts to people fighting in the street. The response came naturally.

Your nose was cold and runny, your hands frozen in your pockets, and your feet hurt. Besides all of that, you felt all wrong. Because you enjoyed his presence, because what they said, and because you couldn’t help but calm down when he was close.

Azriel didn’t say anything when you took the bags from his hands, thanking him quietly. He didn’t say anything as more people walked away from him, either because of his wings or because they recognized him.

“You don’t like last minute shopping”

It was a pointless observation, but it was better than to comment on how afraid he had been when, just outside the market, he felt the bond snap with urgence. His shadows knew where you were, and that you needed him, but even he had trouble running through crowds. Azriel also couldn’t talk about how mad he had been at everyone in that stall, how his new shadows had turned off every light and almost chocked them to death.

Azriel wanted to say that you were probably cold because you didn’t like your own coats, and most of the times wore one of his. He wanted to hug you, too, to feel you between his arms after what felt like an eternity and promise you that it would end well.

But he couldn’t say anything more than the obvious.

“I had to” you answered.

With a furious fist, frustrated at life, at him and at you, you brushed the tears off your cheeks. You could tell that he wanted to keep talking, and you did too. Since your last encounter, you had come up with more conversations you should have.

You stared at each other for what seemed forever. There were details that you had almost forgotten in your sorrow – like his long lashes, that you teased him about. Or the freckle that snuck up to the corner of his left eye. The way his mouth rose higher from the right, and the small scar on his ear from where Cassian dared him to wear an earring.

Only his face was enchanting enough to help you forget about the day, about the weight of your chest. It was the first closing call from the market, that sounded through the public speakers, that broke you away.

“I should go”

“I should go”

You talked at the same time, and you smiled softly when you pointed to different directions. You didn’t miss how his eyes fell to your mouth, how his own lifted up too.

“I could walk you back” he offered, not tearing his eyes away from your mouth. ���If you let me”

You didn’t answer immediately. Those last words, that he had repeated so often lately, almost had you saying yes. You could almost imagine how it would go – him walking by your side, one of his wings behind your back. His elbow brushing yours, and his gaze fixed on you.

Your smile dropped when you remembered the times you had walked just like that, tucked together. The times you had waked by yourself through Velaris with his imprint on you, and the times he had left without a trace of your presence.

Azriel knew the answer before you said it, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Sorry”

That time, you decided to turn away before he could. Taking the back exit was a poor choice, knowing it was farther from your house than the main one, but you couldn’t picture yourself walking through the market without Azriel keeping the crowds a step away.

So you turned around, gripped your bags tight and didn’t tear your eyes from the ground during the whole way back.

-

It wasn’t Azriel who found you the time everything changed, but you.

The cold and winter were over, the streets were clean and the sun was out. It was a perfect day to spend outside, and Elain seemed fixed in throwing you out of your own shop. She claimed that the bags under your eyes were as dark as the night, and that your skin was so pale that she couldn’t tell the flour stains apart from it.

“Just for the record, you’re kicking the owner of the bakery out of the bakery” you stated, looking at her once more from the door. “You do realize that shouldn’t happen, right?”

“I’m helping a friend come out of her ghost-like season” she replied, still decorating muffins. “And you do realize that most shops close on Sunday’s, right?”

“Certainly not a bakery” you looked to the empty fountain at her right. “If we do it together, we will – “

“If you touch one single item of this bakery, I’m banning you from the kitchen for a month”

You doubted she meant it, she could. But still, you sighed and turned around to open the door. You weren’t an extrovert, certainly not an outsider. Since you were a child, you liked your kitchen, your house, and your space. And none of those things were outside the door.

But you actually feared what the fae you left behind would do if you turned back. Elain had already hidden your apron so you couldn’t put it on, and had threatened to mismatch the soy milk with normal one.

Giving her a last, tight smile through the glass, you walked towards the center of Velaris.

Not many people were outside that soon on a Sunday morning, but you were glad for her insistence the moment the sun kissed your face. The cold weather was disappearing and you could feel warmth across your cheeks. It was still cold, and it would be for at least another week, but the change in the weather promised a happy spring.

You walked aimlessly around Velaris, stopping to watch the Sidra move every now and then. Your feet carried you through unfamiliar streets, all of them filled with colors and smells. The longer you walked, the healthier you felt. Each step felt like a weight lifted from your chest, and you even smiled to a few usuals you found in the streets.

The main square peeked through the streets. It wasn’t your usual destination, too crowded and not as pretty as other parts of the town. But you still walked through it, feeling at ease and happy.

It had happened before, usually the days before you started your cycle, and you should have known the feeling of ease had nothing to do with the weather or the walk. It had happened and it happened again, just as you rounded a corner to walk in the square.

If, by any chance, Azriel hadn’t noticed you coming, the shadows that tugged him away from where he was standing would have made it obvious.

His eyes widened when he saw you, and you felt that peaceful feeling making its home for the day. There was no sorrow, no sadness, and none of the usual feelings that lately you felt when it came to him.

You cursed yourself stupid when you realized that you cycle was coming, and that every year you were in a mood until Azriel showed up, your hormones demanding your mate.

“Y/N”

Your name fell from your mouth and just by hearing it you noticed something different. It was new, and at the same time, you thought you recognized it somehow. You looked to his empty hands, to the syphons on his shoulders and chest and truth-teller on his side.

It looked like you had interrupted something important to him. But instead of running away from him like the last two times, you took a step closer.

“Are you going on a mission?” you pointed with your chin to his leather, eyes stopping at his chest. There was that thing, that you couldn’t name.

“Just came back. I was…”

Azriel looked to the building he just exited and for a moment, in silence. You had met a bunch of times since the incident in the market, and you had started having longer conversations. About the weather, about your bakery, and even about his family, who you finally knew officially.

Certainly, your relationship had improved, although it wasn’t just fixed yet. When he didn’t answer, you were reminded of all the times he had kept things to himself, either out of fear or doubt.

He seemed to doubt between telling you and keeping it to himself. Any other time, you knew, he would have kept it to himself. He had done it, in the past – when you asked him about his job, or tried to understand his past. Many times where he had evaded the truth or his emotions.

Your mood, that had been in a rush since you left the bakery, fell a little at his silence. He looked torn and you were ready to leave, before he answered.

“This is Madja’s house. I meet her here so we can talk, usually during the week” he looked back at you, watching the surprise of his statement. “But something happened and I needed to talk to her”

“What happened?”

Azriel’s lips were pressed tight, debating on whether he should tell you or not. He wouldn’t have doubted about it a year ago – he wouldn’t tell you, because in his eyes, it would only hurt you more than he already had. But he had learnt new things, and had realized that a relationship was built on trust. And that his fears, his perception of the reality, had broken yours.

He had cut the mission short when he had noticed, though he wasn’t sure he had ever done something like that. Azriel didn’t know what had triggered it, why it happened in the Winter court and not anytime sooner.

Madja, of course, had had an answer ready – an answer that had left him staring at her door for long twenty minutes before you appeared.

“Kallias should have sent something to Rhysand, but he didn’t” he started, not sure why he was traveling so far from the event. “So I went to check. Turns out someone must have taken it and, well, I tried to…”

He trailed off before he could finish, aware of your confusion. You never talked about what he did for Rhysand, in any court. No matter how big or small was the assignment, he didn’t tell you about it.

But that wasn’t what your confusion was about, at least not all of it. You couldn’t possibly notice because you had given it for granted since the beginning, but Azriel did notice. He noticed the change as soon as it happened, and babbled when he explained to Rhysand what he should have been feeling for years.

Had explained to Madja moments ago, who had given him a knowing smile and a proud nod.

“I accepted the bond” he confessed, continuing before you could say anything else. “I don’t know how, or why, but I was there and suddenly I was hit with – with this in my chest, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t happen sooner”

“You accepted the bond” you repeated, looking between his chest and face.

“I don’t know how, or why now. I was, thinking… And it hit me” Azriel smiled sadly, not saying what his thoughts were about – what they had been about since that night. “I didn’t want to tell you, because, this is, you don’t have to do anything now. Me accepting the bond doesn’t change what I did”

Azriel hadn’t meant to tell you, neither to be so vague and ridiculously nervous about it.

It had been a surprise when, in the middle of a conversation, he felt it. He had been thinking about you, because there were flowers and they were pretty against the cold weather, and to him, you were the prettiest thing the Cauldron had made. One moment Kallias had been going through the last movements of the package and the next the high lord was looking at him with raised brows.

Congratulating him for something that should have happened six years ago.

“It’s not that I didn’t want the bond before, Y/N” he continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise you, I didn’t know how to accept it. I didn’t know that I deserved it”

Azriel had thought, and he still wanted to, that you so pretty that you were meant for someone else. That it was borrowed time, that he didn’t deserve the bond just as he didn’t deserve you. With Madja and Rhys, they had had deep conversations about his mental health, about his version of life where he lived through a glass of pain and rejection.

As he stared at your surprised form, he tried not to let hope leak into his heart. He knew it didn’t fix what was broken, but he hoped it was the first step of a long recovery to win you back.

Only if you could confirm or deny, instead of stare at him.

“Say something” Azriel finally broke, almost begged. “Whatever you want. Just say something”

And you wanted to, because wasn’t that what you had wanted? You had fooled yourself lately thinking about may what ifs. What if he had accepted the bond in the bagging, what if he had told you that he wasn’t fine, that he was broken and needed help.

What if you had helped him and not rushed things when he wasn’t ready. Now, it felt like the Cauldron was giving you that opportunity, only that you didn’t know how to react.

You finally looked away from him and decided to give an experimental tug on the bond, to see if anything had changed.

It had.

“Az”

It was a chuckle, maybe the beginning of a cry. It was anger but also relief because what came back from that tug wasn’t what you usually felt. It was stronger, solid, as if there was a physical string between your bodies that kept you linked.

Usually, it was just an intense feeling that was enough for you. But now that you felt him tugging back, felt him loving you, you couldn’t hold back another laugh. He shoved down through it everything he felt – adoration, love, joy. Many fears that had you stumbling towards him, and pain.

So much pain that your smile dropped. His dropped too, and you felt the bond getting fainter.

“That’s another reason. I didn’t want you to feel… that” Azriel retreated the bond farther. “I have so many fears and pains here that I couldn’t even imagine sharing them with you. And that – “

“You don’t have to feel ashamed” you cut him off, your voice hoarse. “I love you the same”

Words were unnecessary when you hugged his middle and buried yourself in his chest. He curled around you, like he had done so many times.

The channel snapped open again, and you just closed your eyes tightly. It was an endless source of emotions, and it broke you that most of them were bad. There was rejection, from so many people that it felt like an angry, black bull coming your way. Sadness that felt overwhelming and never ending, always coming in waves when Azriel didn’t expect it.

You also felt disgust, and you only held him tighter when you discovered it was self-disgust. Not only at the things that he had done, but also at what had been done to him. The scars on his hands, the shadows around him. He had hated himself for so long he had forgotten how to love.

But then, at the bottom, there was something bright, and that part you realized it was only dedicated to you. There was his family too, but it wasn’t as intense as his love for you. Everything that he lacked during his life, that he yearned for, was tucked where it mattered the most.

“I love you” he whispered against your head, softly. “I love you”

You didn’t answer, just raised your head until you could brush your lips against him. Later, you would have time to blame the cycle, which you wouldn’t get for another two months, or the emotions of the moment. But you knew it was just what you needed, what you both deserved, when you felt him kissing back.

At the beginning, it was just his lips against yours, and it was enough. Your noses brushed each other, you got on your tiptoes and his wing cocooned both of you. His hands only pressed you tighter against his body when you moved your lips against his, brushing the edge of your tongue against his bottom one.

Azriel could barely keep himself straight when you silently asked for permission to open his mouth, which he happily obliged.  

From that moment, it was crashing. The kiss was only a physical proof of your feelings traveling through the mated bond, so wild and intense you couldn’t tell which one was his or yours.

“I’m sorry, darling” he whispered against your lips, giving you no time to reply. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for being a coward. I’m sorry”

“I forgive you. We don’t keep secrets anymore” you managed to say between kisses.

“Never” Azriel answered while leaving kisses on your cheeks and nose.”

“And we’ll talk about our emotions, and feelings. You’ll tell me about your life when I ask”

“Always”

“You won’t close off to me” you pulled his head away and made him look at you.

While you held his face between your hands, Azriel smiled. It was a different smile from the previous ones, from the ones you had seen so far. It was carefree, loving, and yours.

Your thumb brushed the corner of his eye, his upper cheek, the border of his nose.

“I’m here, Azriel. Always. So you don’t have to hide anything from me, or to be ashamed or afraid. I’m here” you closed the distance once more, controlling the kiss by holding onto his face. “Right around the corner”

“Right around the corner” he repeated, dipping his head and sealing all his promises with another kiss.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @wallacewillow0773638 @clara-geekhime @kalulakunundrum @saltedcoffeescotch @originalcrusadetrash @mel-wcst @ailyr92 @bubybubsters @chickensrock3 @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @wallacewillow0773638 @just-m-2 @theravenphoenix26 @glitterypirateduck @a-frog-with-a-laptop @justdreamstars

[hl-obsessed]

WARNING! it's a long one - 54 fics listed! 🙈💕✨

•°•°•°•°•°•

✨💎 Lend Me Your Broken Parts by @dizzy-pixie17

(M, 2,4k)It's been five years, but when Lottie doesn't know what else to do to console a hysterical Louis, she calls Harry.

And despite everything, Harry comes.

Look How Well I Play the Bare Truth by Missbeautifullywritten17

(NR, 8,7k) When recently single (to the general public, of course) Harry Styles gets nominated to an Oscar for playing a gay policeman in the 1950s he thinks it is the most wonderful and, at the same time, painful thing it could have happened to him. How is he supposed to say how much Tom and Patrick's story means to him without revealing he is being closeted himself? How is he supposed to go on with his life after receiving the most important award there is for simply playing the bare truth? Well, maybe the rainbow dress he is wearing would be enough of an statement...

Or, the one where Holivia stunt ends, dwd flops and My Policeman gets lots of oscar nominations. Now, it is March 2023, Louis can't be there with him even though his bearding relationship with Eleanor and bbg are already done and he is in the process of coming out himself (apparently, coming out was one thing, but them being a couple... that was perjudicial for their careers and shall remain hidden). So what he does instead is a rbb photocall with the one and only Niall Horan while they watch Harry on the TV screen.

Meanwhile, Harry Styles remembers his past and finds himself on stage with an oscar in hand and, perhaps, his only chance to be free.

Cigarettes and Fuckin’ on the Windowsill by carmelstyle

(NR, 2,4k) Harry comes back from Italy after filming “My Policeman” and stunting. Louis isn’t happy about that last bit.

Or: Sex in front of a window.

Rest in Peace by @stfustucky

(M, 2k) Sometimes, when he looks back on things, there’s a small, angry part of Louis that wishes he’d never met Harry. If he’d just missed that audition, if he’d just stayed in bed, he never would have fallen in love with curly hair and bright green eyes and dimples he’s never gone a day without kissing since. Most times, when he looks back on things, Louis blames himself. The very solar system revolved around Harry and Louis had the closest orbit, flying close enough to feel that warmth in every atom of his body. He should have been paying closer attention, should have opened his eyes and stared into the sun and seen what was happening.

Harry has inoperable brain cancer at the age of 26. Louis watches the love of his life slip away.

guide you home by @nauticalleeds

(G, 0,8k) It’s been a while since Harry’s been able to appreciate the night sky, been a while since his life wasn’t full of hectic schedules and interviews and jet lag. He looks at the sky a little longer, watches the stars blink back at him and thinks about another bright presence he’s been missing.

Taking out his phone from his pocket, he thumbs at his screen to open a new message.

Full moon tonight, he types, and presses send. He keeps the app open, expecting the message to come instantly.

It does.

the peace ring is back in louis' ass? by @greeneyesfriedrice

(E, 1,2k) peace ring adventures with harry and louis! probably not what you expect!

Singing My Name Like Your National Anthem by @letthemusicmoveyou28

(T, 1k) “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Louis just scoffs at that, dismissing Harry quickly yet lovingly in a way that only he has ever seemed to manage. “Good luck getting me to be anywhere else love.”

Harry sighs. “Louis you can’t afford to get sick too. Your album release is next week, you’re booked solid.”

Louis just shrugs. “And if I get sick then we’ll rebook all of it. Or damn it all to Hell for all I care. As much as I want my fans to hear the album, there is nothing more important to me than you.”

✨ Second Time's A Charm by @dizzy-pixie17

(M, 4,7k) “Harry?” Oli Wright said nervously into the phone. “Um… How… how’re you doing?”

Harry’s heart was already picking up speed because there was only one reason Oli ever called him after midnight.

“I’m alright,” Harry answered. “What’s going on? Is it Louis?”

“Uh… yeah,” Oli admitted. “There’s been an accident.”

OR

The one where Harry finds out Louis broke his arm. For the second time in one year.

A Boyfriend for Christmas

(G, 5,5k) Louis' co-worker, Gemma, asks Louis to be her date for Christmas dinner. She needs a fake boyfriend to keep her family from harassing her about her singlehood. Louis adores her, so he doesn't mind helping out--until he meets Gemma's handsome younger brother.

Feeling It Now by @ireallysawanangel

(E, 7k) When Louis hooked up with a hot guy in the bathroom at a music festival, the last thing he was expecting was for that guy to be one of the headlining acts at the festival.

✨ Seal The Deal by @itsnotreal

(NR, 2k) Harry’s been getting Louis Tomlinson’s mail for months, even though he told the mailman that he lived in apartment two and Louis lived in apartment eight.

✨ It's Thursday. Let's Get (un)Dressed by @bananaheathen

(E, 9k) When Louis is peer-pressured into downloading TikTok over the holidays, he fully expects to hate it. And he does hate it. All of it. Well... except for aspiring OOTD influencer, @ harrystyles.

Your Silhouette Over Me by orphan_account

“Alright don’t forget the mission, get Louis laid,” Louis shouted over the music.

“Don’t know who Louis is, but I support it.”

Louis turned towards the contributing voice and saw the bartender leaning in front of him, his elbows resting against the lip of the bar. He had brown hair that fell in loose curls just above his collar bones which were perfectly on show due to the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his abdomen. The shirt’s sleeves were cuffed up along his inked bicep and the pattern was something that Louis would expect a dad on vacation to wear, not a young bartender.

“He’s Louis,” Zayn said, jutting his thumb in Louis’ direction.

The bartender nodded approvingly, “then I definitely support it.”

~~~~~~

Or the one where Louis went out one night after work, wanting to get laid, and then ended up meeting a bartender named Harry Styles.

you drive me wild (you know you do) by @missandrogyny

(E, 6,6k) Their management informs them that they have an interview right before the ARIAs, and it isn't until he's in a suit, seated on a couch between Liam and Zayn, that he gets the idea.

The interviewer, Angus, smiles at them, right before the cameras roll on, and a metaphorical light bulb goes off inside Louis' head. He's perfect. Well, not as perfect as Harry, but enough. He's attractive, attractive enough to drive Harry crazy, and he doesn't even think of the consequences of his actions, just decides right then. It's all Harry's fault anyway. Louis should be allowed to have a little fun.

(or: Louis flirts with the Australian interviewers and Harry gets possessive.)

Love In Conversation by @hellolovers13

(T, 4,9k) King Arthur Baking Hotline.

Your bread fell flat. Your cookies crumbled. Who do you turn to? The King Arthur Baker’s Hotline.

or

Louis has a severe baking breakdown.

Thankfully, he gets help from baking-hotline operator Harry.

✨💎 i've secretly always wanted to be yours (and for you to be mine) by @bottomhaztoplou

(M, 1,6k) Harry has just presented. Louis needs to know that he's okay.

Only you by @germericangirl

(E, 4k) Harry comes home from filming a particularly intimate scene for My Policeman. Louis is jealous, Harry doesn’t understand why. They talk it out, more or less…

✨ Whoever, However by @brooklyn-babylon / @twopoppies

(E, 8,9k) Louis could feel his heart rate pick up as he positioned the camera and Harry slowly stood up. They both knew what came next –– it had been clearly outlined in the advert Harry answered. The studio Louis worked for was filming a new series of camboy videos. Louis’ job was to make it look like amateur porn –– sweaty, sensual, dirty –– but well lit and edited. He was an artist, thank you very much.

—-

Or: Louis has a much better day at work than he’d expected.

home at last by @greeneyesfriedrice

(E, 1,9k) Harry turns, a wide smile on his face. Louis stands in the doorway to their shared bedroom, his right arm held close to his body and in a makeshift sling.

He makes sure not to fully ram into his husband, but it’s been almost one month, so sue him if he’s excited.

Everything by @tommokat

(E, 4,3k) He’s got a job he loves, fans he adores, friends to call on and family to claim. He’s traveled the world, broken records, set new ones. He’s 13 years into a relationship with the love of his life, the man he can’t wait to start a family with. He’s a three-time Grammy award winner getting railed by his husband in the back of a SUV in the middle of LA traffic. He’s got everything. What more could he want?

or

Post Grammy’s SUV Celebration Sex

Devil in my brain, whispering my name @lunarheslwt

(E, 9k) Or, Louis, a demon, shows Harry, an angel, just how good it can feel to give in to temptation and sin.

Only You, Always by @larryficwriter

(NR, 5,5k) “Hey Haz,” Louis says, tensing because he can tell that something is wrong. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees Liam hurriedly busying himself with the Xbox.

Harry walks over to Louis, eerily calm. Louis’ gulp is so loud he’s almost sure that Niall and Zayn could have heard it. He leans down, his breath tickling at Louis’ ear. Honestly, Louis can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine

“Bedroom.” Harry practically growls into Louis’ ear and then he walks away, just as calm.

For a second Louis is frozen. Just the tone of Harry’s voice has Louis twitching in his trousers. Louis knows what’s about to happen, he can just tell. And it is a far cry from the fight that he had been expecting. Louis gulps again, looking over to Liam. The tips of Liam’s ears are flaming and Louis’ about seventy-three percent sure that Liam had heard what Harry had whispered. Liam is specifically avoiding Louis’ gaze. And then it hits him that he should be up; he should be moving.

or how Harry reacted to the "Lilo Kiss" incident

Won't You Please Come Around by @allwaswell16

(M, 5,8k) Harry has lived in London for a month, and so far the only friend he's made is his sister's cat, Mr. Whiskers. When the lock on the window breaks, Mr. Whiskers begins exploring his new neighbourhood a bit too thoroughly and brings back mementos of his escapes.

Or a Valentine's Day story where Harry has a really fit neighbour, and his cat is a thief.

I Hope You Choke (on those words) by @imogenleewriter

(E, 3k) Harry Styles had been head of security for concert venues for over eight years.

Never in his career had he seen a musician as reckless when it came to personal safety as Louis Tomlinson.

After making his job a living nightmare, Harry decided he needs to talk some sense into Louis.

If only there were some way to shut him up.

You Could Give That Aspirin the Headache of Its Life by @letthemusicmoveyou28

(M, 3,6k) Louis had once heard that the chances of being struck by lightning are 1 in 700,000. He wonders now, how those odds compare to randomly being seated next to your ex boyfriend on a 10 hour flight.

Honestly, if the universe is going to insist on ruining his life, he really would have preferred the lightning thing.

(Or the one where Louis is a football player who gets stuck on a flight with his ex-boyfriend Harry. The universe might be conspiring against him, or is it?)

You Can See It with the Lights Out by @larryatendoftheday

(M, 8,6k) In a universe where you know as soon as you meet your soulmate, Harry's been shaking hands his whole career, waiting for the one.

Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup

(G, 4,4k) Or, where you have a tattoo of the first thought your soulmate has when they see you.

✨ If the world was ending, you'd come over, right? by @enchantedlandcoffee

(T, 6,3k) "Is Harry with you?" Louis blurted out, his free hand tapping anxiously against his knee.

"Louis?"

"Yeah. Is Harry with you?"

On any other occasion, Louis knew Niall would have yelled at him for calling in the middle of the night. But Niall must've sensed the urgency in his tone, his voice immediately taking on a lighter touch.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's been staying in the spare room. Why? Do you want me to get him for you?"

"No!" Louis panicked. "Just- check on him please? Make sure he's breathing and everything?"

✨ My Arm Might Be Broken, But I Won't Be Broken Down by @boosbabycakes28

(T, 2,4k) Louis broke his arm for the second time and he is bored out of his mind. He has nothing better to do than mess with his husband.

✨ Together We're the Greatest by @hellolovers13

(E, 4,6k) “How the fuck does this always happen to you?” Louis huffed, pulling Harry's limp body into the half fallen apart car he'd borrowed for this. Well, he didn't intend to give it back, really, but insurance covered theft, did it not? And this thing was basically held together with duct tape and good faith, so really, the former owners should thank him for taking it off their hands.

-

It's not the first time Louis has to stitch Harry back together, but Louis will make sure it is the last

With the Bomb Lighting by @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 4k) “Hey mate, sorry for the delay. Pop divas I swear…”

Harry’s eyes jolt open with record speed and he notes in horror that the man that had been filling his fantasies mere seconds ago is now filling his laptop screen.

“Holy shit, is that your dick?”

(Or the one where Harry is doing Zoom interviews to promote his new album, but his time management skills are lacking. Louis is the writer interviewing Harry for Rolling Stone when he accidentally gets an eye full. They figure it out).

the sweetness of your words knows no bounds in making my heart leap by @bottomhaztoplou

(M, 1,4k) At the end of his heat, Harry writes a letter.

At the beginning of his rut, Louis writes one back.

Meant To Be (Arse First) by BayouSexual

(T, 4,8k) Zayn groans in response, and Louis can hear the slow rustle of his bed sheets in the background. “Is it another ‘you woke up in the back parking lot of a Tesco’s with no pants and I need to come get you before the cops do’ panic or more of a 'I can stay in my bed and lend you an ear’ kind of panic, because I drank a lot more than you did last night, Lou.”

“Uhh,” Louis replies eloquently, “more like an 'I have two giant, blood red handprints on my naked arse, and no, they aren't from a good shag’ kind of panic.”

------

Or the one where your soulmate mark appears on your body where they first touch you and stays there until they touch you for the first time.

Aka the one where Louis's soulmate must like bums.

Makes Me Feel Alive by @itsnotreal

(E, 8,3k) Louis hated when people came in to get tattooed and couldn’t sit still— bunch of fucking squares is what they were. If only that had been the issue for his newest client.

Completely Oblivious by @itsnotreal

(G, 1k) “Are we dating?” Harry looked very confused.

Louis huffed, “That’s what I’m asking you!”

Or an interaction with a stranger helps these two finally figure their shit out.

✨💎 Your secret's safe with me by @lightwoodsmagic

(M, 7,4k) He knew almost everything about Haz, considered him his best friend. He knew his favourite movies and books, how he liked his coffee, knew how many pets he had and what he was most afraid of. Louis knew how to calm him down when he was panicking, and that he’d lost his virginity to his ex-boyfriend when he was 17. He knew that Haz had curly hair, green eyes, that he was tall and considered himself slightly awkward. He knew his Instagram account that only had aesthetic pictures or ridiculous jokes, but in the all the time that Louis had known him, he’d never learnt, or been allowed to know, Haz’s full name, what he sounded like, or what he looked like.

Louis didn't care.

Or, when Louis' favourite singer comes back and announces he's performing again, him and the rest of his group chat decide to go. When Haz, the man Louis' fallen in love with without meeting him, says that he can't, Louis tries his best to convince him with a drunken phone call, hearing his voice for the first time. It's not until he's at Royal Variety that he swears he can hear it again.

✨ Let The Ocean Worry About Being Blue by @greenblueish

(E, 5,6k) In a society where young adults go through the so-called Colour Test which determines their affiliation to a Colour - Blue, Yellow, Red or Green - and thus where they'll live, work and socialise for the rest of their lives, Harry is finally about to take the Test. Born and raised in Yellow, he met his boyfriend when he was still a teenager - against the government's recommendation. Louis, however, changed from Yellow to Blue two years ago. The problem: Harry needs to receive a Blue Test result as well, because a relationship between two people who live in different Colours is forbidden.

The Touch of Your Hand by @larry-hiatus

(E, 8,2k) Louis has decided to bite the bullet and get himself a dick piercing. He knows it’s going to hurt, but what he doesn’t know is how to calm down when he finds himself on the brink of a panic attack in front of the incredibly attractive piercer, Harry. Luckily, Harry is really sweet and offers to help ease his nerves.

You Don’t Have to Be Lonely Tonight by @neondiamond

(G, 2k) Louis is stuck working the Christmas day shift at the coffee shop. Harry is the sad stranger who comes in to spend the day there.

✨ In Jest by @londonfoginacup

(T, 4,8k) Louis, who smiles at Harry as he reclines in his chair. Louis, whose soulmark is visible thanks to his low-cut top.

Louis, Harry’s soulmate, who seems to either be blissfully ignorant of that fact or maliciously ignoring it.

Harry would really like to know which.

✨ you give me feelings that i adore by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 7,6k) Harry doesn’t mean to fall in love with Louis’ scent when they first meet after the Alpha joins Harry's study group, but after Harry leaves a sweater behind by accident and it comes back smelling like Louis, he can’t really help it. Nor can he really help continuing to leave his things behind in hopes that Louis will take them home and drench them in his wonderful, mouth-watering scent. He just has to hope Louis will play along.

Or, 5 times Louis scents Harry's things and the 1 time Harry returns the gesture.

We All Scream for Ice Cream by @wishingforloushair

(M, 3,1k) Harry snatched the flyer back off the noticeboard, waving it at Liam. “BJ in your PJs?” he repeated.

“What? I’m not giving you a blowjob, Harry,” Liam said, looking slightly affronted.

“See?” Harry rounded on Niall. “No one thinks of Ben and Jerry’s when they read BJ.”

“Well, they should,” Niall said, snatching the flyer back. “Not everyone is a disgusting heathen like you two.”

“It says BJ in your PJs?” Liam asked, sounding aghast. “On all the flyers?”

“You told me it was catchy!”

When Resident Advisor Liam left his boyfriend Niall, and Niall's roommate Harry in charge of advertising the end of semester ice cream celebration for their hall residents, he should've expected it to end in disaster. Niall created an entirely inappropriate flyer, offering a very different experience than what they were planning to offer. When distributing the flyers, Harry meets Louis, an older student studying Drama, who is far more interested in BJs that doesn't involve Ben and Jerry's.

AKA crack/fluff with a bit of smut, based off of that one viral poster 'BJs in your PJs'

✨💎 Odds Are That We Will Probably Be... by @lululawrence

(NR, 0,6k) From the moment Louis learned no one would survive past the evening, the only thing he knew was that he had to get to Harry.

✨ I Knew From the First Time by @lululawrence

(NR, 6,1k) Or the one where Harry definitely doesn't take a sneaky pic of Louis on the Tube. Absolutely not. (Except maybe he does.)

All You Want's Under Your Nose by @wishingforloushair

(E, 3,5k) Louis decides to treat himself to a new sex toy, but is perplexed when he sees a man in the shop placing each vibrator against the tip of his nose and sneezing. Curiosity gets the better of him, and it turns out the man, Harry, is a sex-god who knows far too much about sex toys and promises Louis that if a vibrator makes him sneeze it will definitely make him come. Of course there's only one way to find out for sure...

On Love's Doorstep by @hellolovers13

(T, 1,6k) Harry Styles: a day in the life

☑ Stuck in a dress

☑ Abandoned by his best friend

☑ Date with hot neighbour

All in all, not the worst day ever

If Life Is a Photograph by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k) Harry gets plucked out of the crowd to take Louis’ crew pic on stage in Guadalajara.

It Was Electric Touch by @allwaswell16

(E, 2,2k) Harry, assistant to The Snuts' manager, has been indulging in fantasies about the headliner and founder of the Away From Home Festival, Louis Tomlinson. He gets the chance to indulge in the real thing at the after party.

Just Two Stars Passing By by QuickedWeen

(E, 5,1k) Harry blew up on TikTok and became a fashion commentator during the pandemic. Now, all of a sudden, big channels are asking him to cover their red carpets and premieres. Somehow he ends up covering arrival fashion for the 2024 Euros, and somehow Louis Tomlinson already knows his name.

A Late Summer Day by @gettingaphdinmomo

(NR, 0,5k) Today

I realized

you are home.

I almost told you

I love you.

Figure This Out by @haztobegood

(E, 2,4k) Louis is everything Harry could have imagined when he’d typed “silver fox enthusiast” into his Grindr profile. Too bad he's probably scared Louis off by giving him too many expensive gifts.

✨ Booked and Busy by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 9,2k) Booking the Away from Home Festival is the biggest opportunity of Harry’s up-and-coming career to date. It’s just an added bonus that the festival is hosted and headlined by his longtime celebrity crush, world-renowned rockstar Louis Tomlinson.

Despite his excitement, doesn’t expect Louis to watch his set. Or to visit his dressing room ahead of his show to wish him good luck.

Or to flirt with him.

But seeing as this is the most monumental night of Harry’s life to date, he might as well make the most of it.

***

A fluffy, smutty PWP where Harry performs at AFH 2024 and gets a lot more than he bargained for.

.🌸🌸🌸.

✨ you gave me a ring, lad! by @theeliampayne

(G, 0,2k, Liam & Louis) In which Liam visits Louis at a concert and "give me a ring, lad!" is taken more literally than Louis intended.

like air to me by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(M, 5,3k, Louis/Zayn) Five times Louis’ smoke break brings back memories of Zayn and one time it brings him back to Zayn’s doorstep.

.🌸🌸🌸.

🌿 part 1 (+50k) 🌿 part 2 (30-50k) 🌿 part 3 (10-30k) 🌿

[potchi-fics]

2:27 am (part four of attention)

i | ii | iii | iv | v

      sevika wakes up with a sore body. strangely, she notices that her body is patched up, wounds clean and all, hell, even littered with bandages and gauze. she checks the aged clock that is nailed on the wall: 2:27. her gaze falls to her window, seeing its still dark— its 2:27 in the morning. a groan of pain emits from her trying to sit up which she did, almost dying in the process. however, soft snores and breathing catch her attention.

its you. 

what are you still doing in here with her? you’re supposed to leave. but who is she kidding, you look soft like an angel–  your hands wrapped around a pillow on your chest, and your head laying on top of it. she doesnt know it but a small smile is on her rugged face: foolish woman. only does she stop staring at your figure when she sees a shiver from your figure to get you a blanket.

but her heavy footsteps cause you to wake up and groggily ask her.

“where you goin’?” your voice laced with sleepiness.

Sevika signals for you to take the couch, “to find a blanket.”

      you are about to protest except she shushes you with a look, successfully shutting you up. she disappears into another room as you quietly move to the couch. you lay down face-first, sleep taking over. 

“here,” the blanket gets thrown on your back, “use it.”

     you thought she was gonna stay but she heads for the door. pushing through your exhaustion, you lift your head up to ask her the same question.

“where you going, sevika?” you glance at the clock, “its 2:33 in the morning, come back here on the couch.”

      without looking back at you, she pulls out a cape.

she takes a few seconds, “job’s not finished.”

“atleast take a couple of more hours to rest,” you argue back.

      you stand up to block her way– determined to somehow find a way to stop her. you look up at her, she’s a massive woman and you hate that you like it. 

sevika frowns, “step aside, topsider.”

“im serious, youre hurt,” your voice holds concern, “and youre hurt bad.”

“and im serious, step aside.” 

      she takes a step forward but you dont budge. you only cross your arm before poking her side, the moment you see her wince, you raise your eyebrow. 

she swats your finger away, “dont touch me.”

      you poke her again, wanting to prove your point. you wont back down easily. she’s hurt and you will do everything in your power to stop her. unexpectedly, she roughly grabs your wrist and pushes you against the nearest wall– pinning you. 

“youre real stubborn,” sevika pushes her thick hips onto yours.

you discreetly swallow, “im just sayin’.”

“stay out of my way, topsider,” she leans down, close enough that you can see every minute detail on her face.

      you dare to get closer, one gust of wind and your lips will meet. she gazes at your lips for a split second, returning to your eyes immediately. your own admire her scars, how the blue blends well with her skin, how it sends fire to your abdomen– again.

yet one question lingers in your mind.

“why do you care?” she pulls away.

      she beats you to it. why do you care? you’ve only met her a couple of days ago. your mind racks up to try and formulate an answer but nothing comes.

sevika’s voice slices through the tense silence, “this means nothing.”

      the both of you withdraw from each other, chests heaving due to just what happened. a horndog is what you are, dont even deny it.

her footsteps get quieter as she exits the door– you look fixedly at the floor, your arms falling back to your side. reality sinks in: yeah, this means nothing. why do i care? the click of the door makes you grit your teeth; frustrated at not only sevika, but yourself as well because what are you doing? why do you care for a woman who youve only met days ago? 

this means nothing.

      you throw yourself into your work after that altercation. all you have done is work all day and all night, not bothering to take a break and it is evident on your face– tired eyes, not sleeping and eating properly, and exhausted. nonetheless, she’s still in your head. you cant seem to get her out of your mind. 

you lean back on your chair, “get out of my fucking head.”

“get who out of your head?” a british woman stands in the doorway of your workshop.

you perk up, “caitlyn, what are you doing here?”

“im here to ask you if youre gonna come to progress day.” caitlyn leans on the frame of your doorway. “also, ive heard you havent been eating well. or resting, in general.”

your chair creaks as you lean back, “ill think ‘bout it. and im fine, caitlyn.”

      she’s a friend of yours, she stops by your shop every once in a while to help her with the maintenance of her gun. although you consider her a friend, she doesnt know about your secret trips to the undercity nor your interaction with silco’s righthand woman, sevika. she raises her eyebrow but you dismiss it, working back on your project. 

“really, im okay, officer kiramman,” just in time, her mother calls out for her, “and your mothers calling you. say hi to her for me.”

“take care of yourself, will you,” caitlyn bids you goodbye.

      the grip on your small screwdriver loosens up and it drops on your table with a thud: get out of my head, sevika. 

she consumes all of your thoughts: her scent, her body, her nose, her. you think back to when she pressed herself against you, how solid and hard she was, how she was much bigger than you, how she could pin both of your hands using only one from her. god, it sends heat throughout your body, you cant help it. the things she’s doing to you even when she’s not around. one day, ill kill her myself– you bang your forehead on the table.

note: is it obvious that this is a slow burn

[thetarsier]

Hiii I’ve been checking your blog and I love it, can I request secret relationship with Hotch? Like, Jack reveals your secret by accident by calling reader mom or smthn like that ❤️❤️❤️

a/n: I LOVE this.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/notes: sickness (but like fever, not actually being sick), Derek Morgan being a little shit, not proofread

<3: aaron hotchner x reader

When you’d woken up that morning to Jack coughing and sneezing his little heart out, you’d known what kind of day it was going to be. 

Seeing his condition, it was obvious that he shouldn’t be going to school, and once Aaron had woken up, too, he’d agreed. However, there was work to be done in the office for both of you, and you didn’t want to risk getting Jessica’s children sick, too. The only option was to bring Jack into the office. He could sleep on Aaron’s couch for the day, and then go home to bed straight after. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. 

As usual, you and Aaron took separate cars to work, you parked nowhere near each other, and Aaron always waited at least five minutes after you’d exited your car to leave his. All countermeasures to keep the keen eyes of your coworkers away from the two of you and your well-hidden relationship. 

It hadn’t been going on for long - just under a year - but things had moved quickly, and you basically lived with Aaron and Jack, only going back to your apartment occasionally when you and Aaron decided it would be best for him and Jack to be alone. You loved the both of them from wherever you were, staying with them was just a way to love them a little bit closer. 

And, boy, was there love. Much to your surprise, Jack had called you ‘mom’ the other day by accident, which led to you going back to your apartment while he and Aaron had a conversation about Haley. You felt flattered that he’d felt so safe and loved around you that the name had been given to you, and Aaron assured you that he wasn’t upset about it. 

When you’d gotten back, Jack had hugged you tightly around your neck and whispered: “My mommy is watching over me, and you do that, too. So you’re also my mom. Dad said that I could call you that if I wanted to.”

“Yeah? You want to, buddy?” You’d asked, fighting back your tears. 

“Yeah! D’you want to come play?” He brushed off the issue as if it were nothing, pulling away from you and grabbing your hand instead, leading you into the living room where his toys were. 

That lively boy had been replaced now by a quiet, sick one, and you tried not to be distracted by the sounds of him coughing in Aaron’s office. You had paperwork to do. You were supposed to be working. Jack had his father, and Penelope, who seemed to be making more trips to the water cooler today than she ever had before.

“God, it’s awful, isn’t it?” JJ’s words made you turn your attention to her from where you’d been staring at the door of Aaron’s office. 

“Sorry?”

“Hearing children in pain. It never gets better. It’s actually worse once you have a child,” She shook her head, “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Yeah,” You said on an exhale, shuffling some of your papers to give your hands a task, “I might go and see if they need anything, actually.”

“I doubt it. Hotch probably has everything Jack could need right in there,” JJ patted your shoulder as she continued her walk past your desk, “You don’t want to risk catching whatever he has.”

You nodded, swallowing as you looked down at your computer. You had to focus. If you went in there, all of the secrecy that you and Aaron had worked for would be put under a microscope. If Jack found comfort in you, like you knew he would, if Aaron let you stay with him in his office when he’d kicked everyone else out within a couple of minutes, every separate car journey to work would be rendered useless. 

Profilers were a nuisance. They saw everything, every minute shift in behaviour. They would definitely notice the signs of a relationship between you and your boss. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” Morgan asked as he came up behind you, placing his hands on your tense shoulders, “You’ve been staring at your computer screen for a while.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just distracted.” 

He didn’t seem to buy it. Or, rather, he did, he just knew that there was a deeper reason as to why you were distracted that you weren’t mentioning. His fingers pushed into your shoulders as if he were trying to knead the secrets out of you. 

“Oh, I get it,” He mumbled next to your ear and your heart rate began to pick up, “Someone’s got a new boyfriend.”

“What?” You squeaked, turning in your chair and forcing Morgan’s hands from you, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re checking your phone a lot, you’re distracted, you’re happier recently; all signs point to good sex.”

“Derek! This is a work environment.”

“You’re not denying it,” He grinned, leaning on his own desk that was right behind yours, “So you do have a guy.”

“No! No.” You squirmed under his knowing gaze, dropping your shoulders as you let out a sigh, “Okay, yes. Yes, I do. Now, will you leave me alone to do my work?”

He cheered loudly in success, but your worried glance around the space forced him to quieten down, and after he didn’t make any other noises for a few seconds, the eyes in the office that had been drawn to the two of you quickly left again. 

“Just…” You turned back to your computer, “Don’t mention anything to anyone, okay?”

“Only if you answer one question: was I right? Is the sex good?”

You imagined what Derek’s reaction might be if he realised he was talking about his boss, the thought almost put a smile on your face. Instead, you glared at him over your shoulder, and he raised a challenging eyebrow at you. 

“Hey, baby girl-” He shouted across the office while holding eye contact with you. 

“No! Okay fine,” You leaned closer to him, speaking in a hushed whisper, “The answer to your question is yes.”

His shit-eating grin only grew wider at your answer, and when Penelope approached the two of you, Derek made an excuse of asking her out to lunch, and the two of them left the office together. You could finally relax. 

Until the sound of Jack’s coughing punctured through the air again. 

As much as Derek annoyed you (much like an older sibling), he was brilliant at distracting you from everything going on in your life. And even though you were sure that he was telling Penelope your secret at that very moment, you couldn’t help but be a little bit grateful that you’d managed to tear your mind away from the child in Aaron’s office.

It was scary to think about what could happen if the people in your office found out about you and Aaron. As a woman, it was undoubted that you would get at least one comment about sleeping your way to the top, and even though HR knew about your relationship in order to keep professionalism, you couldn’t imagine the kinds of issues that might arise with other agents if they all knew about your relationship. People could be made uncomfortable, or accuse Aaron of preferential treatment; your jobs could be on the line. 

But, then again, it would relieve a huge weight off your shoulders. You wouldn’t have to worry about taking separate cars, waiting in the parking lot, or having to stay away from the person who brought you the most comfort when you were really in need of a hug. 

No. No, you couldn’t be public about your relationship until either one of you didn’t work at the BAU anymore, which you were sure wouldn’t be happening any time soon. 

The door to Aaron’s office opened, and Jack appeared, holding Aaron’s hand and a blanket that he hadn’t let go of since he’d left the house. You tried to seem unfazed, glueing your eyes to your paperwork, but your heart beamed out of your chest when Jack pulled Aaron to a stop right beside your desk. 

“Hey, you feeling okay, buddy?” You asked, keeping your voice gentle. The burn of about a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly became apparent.

Which was why, when Jack held his arms up to be brought up into your lap, loudly exclaiming ‘Mommy!’ as you hesitantly pulled him up, you knew there was no way you could hide. Even if he hadn’t said anything, the way he melted into you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, was probably a dead giveaway. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” You cooed as you rubbed his back, looking up at Aaron, who was shielding you somewhat with his body as he leaned against your desk, watching you with a hint of a smile, “It’s okay, baby. You’ll feel all better soon, I promise.”

“How soon is soon?” Jack groaned into your skin, and you kissed his hot cheek.

“Really, really soon, buddy, okay?”

You continued rubbing his back as the people around you pretended to continue on with their tasks. Aaron rolled Derek’s desk chair from behind his desk and pulled it up next to you and Jack, lips stretching into a thin line. 

“He was upset, asking for you. I thought I’d rather he be happy than us protect ourselves,” He explained in a low voice, “I probably should have asked.”

“It’s alright,” You assured him, “I’m glad you brought him out, it’s been killing me all day. What are we going to tell everyone?”

“I’ll tell them to mind their own business,” He placed a hand on your knee, away from the view of everyone else, “We did everything right, telling HR but keeping it a secret from the team. It can be a sort of… relief that we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We should get him back to your office,” Jack had fallen asleep against you, so you stood up carefully, keeping his head still with one hand cradling it, “Morgan will be back soon, and we should probably figure out a strategy to best tell him-”

“Oh!” Came a shout across the office as you and Aaron were halfway up the stairs. You squeezed your eyes shut, not believing in your bad luck, and Aaron turned around to look at Morgan, “Hotch is the secret boyfriend?”

“Watch your volume, Morgan,” Aaron warned, “As much as it may not seem like it, you’re still at work.” The ‘And don’t you dare wake up my son’ was implied, but Jack did nothing more than wiggle around in your arms at the loud noises.

“Oh, man,” Derek grinned as you and Aaron continued to walk up the stairs to his office, “I know something about you, Hotch.” 

His taunts were blocked out by Aaron opening his office door for you and closing it behind himself, twisting the lock and pulling the blinds as you set Jack down on his sofa and tucked his blanket around him. 

“What is he talking about?” Aaron asked once you’d stood up, hands coming to rest on your waist in a way they never had while you two were at work.

You relished in his touch, morphing it into a hug as you wound your arms over his shoulders. At home, he was always touching you, always somewhere close, but it was different - new - in his office, where the only things exchanged between the two of you were longing looks and papers. 

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

[monimccoythings]

Alastor x Daughter!Reader III (Platonic)

Yeah, this is going to take place after the end of season 1, just after Sir Pentious has ascended and the hotel has been rebuilt into a bigger better version. I just don't know how to fit Y/N in season 1.

Reminder: Alastor is in Hell for a reason.

TW: This contains a very delicate matter, like PTSD and panic attacks, even though I wanted to keep it brief because I'm not very well versed in these kind of subjects and wanted to be careful and respectful with it, I'm not entirely satisfied with how I wrote it, I researched and looked into my past experiences, but still don't think I truly adapted it as best as I would have liked. Also several mentions of cannibalism. Brief mentions of controlling behavior.

This isn't proof read so sorry for any grammar and/or vocabulary mistakes.

Part I ｜Part II｜Part III (You are here!)

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog

Soft jazz music enveloped the room, accompained by a strong smell of coffee and magnolias, someone was humming quietly to the music. Somehow, it reminded you of home.

You blinked groggily, trying to get the sleep away from your eyes, and leaned on your elbow. Why was the ground so soft and cushioned?

Yor eyes shot wide open when you remebered the events that led you there. The blood, the laughter, the eyes, the smile, the radio static... Your heart started beating wildly inside your ribcage, and you suddenly found yourself gasping for air. You clutched your old dress, hoping that would alleviate the growing pressure in your chest in some way.

"Well, look who's finally awake!" Alastor left the newspaper on the table and turned towards you, if his grin was supposed to be comforting it was not working. Just the fact that he was acting so casual, as if nothing had happened in the last ninety years made everything a million times worse.

"You are quite the hide and seek champion, ma petite faon. It took several years for my shadows to casually find you and then it took even longer for me to believe you actually had been sent here, ha ha!" His neck bended in an unnatural way as he laughed.

Crap. Did he always know where you were? Was this just a game of cat and mouse for him?

As if he had read your mind, his eyes adopted a more relaxed expression that did nothing to soothe your nerves. "Well, for the last ten years you gave me quite the chase, cher. Always on the move, never stopping, from one part of the ring to the other. And then there's that seven year gap." He muttered to himself that last part.

You still felt on the verge of a panic attack. Your body couldn't and wouldn't stop shaking, and felt like reality was blurring around you. Everything was happening too fast, it brought you back to that night decades ago when you found that your beloved father had actually been a serial killer. It almost felt like it was mere minutes ago.

Alastor knew of your discomfort, your fear. He could see it as clear as a day, he could almost taste it. He had always enjoyed tasting the fear on his victims, but yours only left an aftertaste of bitterness in his mouth. It was rotten, putrid and nauseating. Maybe because it was the only fear he should never had a taste of. Watching you like this also brought him back to the night he lost you.

As he held your unmoving body in his arms, for a couple of seconds his brain stopped functioning, unable to accept what had just happened. The pain he felt was just like someone had ripped his chest open and pulled out his still beating heart, only to crush it, leaving an empty and cold hole in its place.

He had taken you to your room and laid you in the bed, tucking you in. You looked so peaceful, if your face and clothes weren't stained with blood he would have believed you were sleeping. But you would never wake up again.

The next couple of days passed in a blur, tracking down the man who had dared to do this to you and then run away, and giving him his fair punishment. And as he dragged his mutilated body through the forest... Well... the rest is history.

"Anyways! All's well that ends well! Now I found you, and you won't need to worry anymore!" His chirpy radio filtered voice portrayed some genuine happiness that didn't reach you. The bond and trust that used to tie you two together, had been damaged beyond repair. And Alastor knew. That didn't mean he was going to give up, though.

Before he had the chance to make things even more awkward between you two, the door bursted open, revealing several people behind it.

"Oh, you're awake, that's so great! We were all sooo worried since Al suddenly brought you here, and you seemed passed out, we didn't know if you were alive or-" The blonde haired demon kept rambling, but you barely listened to her, way too much in shock. Behind her, there was a bunch of demons: a winged cat who would be rather doing anything else than be there, a tiny cyclops with a psychotic and perky smile; a spider demon who, if anything, looked confused; a taller cyclops demon girl who found the dirt in her nails to be way more interesting than you, and some kind of moth demon girl? You wondered if they all were going to participate in your slaughter or were just going to watch.

"-aaaand who were you again?" The blonde demon asked with an awkward smile.

"I'm very glad you're asking! Because this is no other than my beloved little girl!" Alastor opened his arms widely in a dramatic form of presentation as the sound effect of a studio crowd cheering mixed with his voice.

"Wha- hold the fuck up? Your daughter??? Didn't you sing to Luci-?"

One glare full of murderous intention and loud static was enough for the spider demon to shut up.

"Now, now, how about we let the newest addition to our merry little band have a well deserved rest." Your dad not so gently pushed the uninvited guests back towards the door.

"Addition? Is she our new guest?" The moth-like demon girl asked.

Alastor's face darkened and loud static filled the room. "A҉b҉s҉o҉l҉u҉t҉e҉l҉y҉ ҉n҉o҉t҉.҉". He swapped back to his more charming persona. "She'll be joining our facility as an assistant!" His tone admitted no further questioning, and, quite reluctantly, the staff and guests left the room.

So that's the story about how you ended working in the Hazbin Hotel.

Your work was mainly small chores or helping others. Nifty needed help to clean the rooms? You were there. Someone needed you to take cover at the reception? On it. Whatever tiny task someone needed help with, you had to do it.

You were not allowed to leave the hotel. Alastor made sure of that. Wherever you went, he made sure some of his shadows followed if he was not around, just to keep you controlled; although he'd rather call it, 'lovingly checking on his little baby'. It really was not needed, even if you didn't trust nobody there and your guard was still up, where else would you go? It was literal hell outside.

Years of hiding and living in constant fear of death or something worse had left you extremely mistrustful and fearful of people. There were times were you believed this was all a ruse to lure you into a false sense of security and then hit you were it hurt most.

It's not like you didn't believe in Charlie's dream, it was just you couldn't believe it could be possible, your father had very sincerely stated that he was just sponsoring it because he loved watching doomed souls struggle to achieve something meaningful and then fail spectacularly. Of course he did.

So, at least you had a roof over your head, enough food to eat, and a no-killing rule inside the hotel. Things could be worse.

Yet, there was still something inside you, something that you so desperately tried to let go but were unable to, as it had rooted itself deeply inside your mind and heart.

It started with small things, maybe a loud sound, maybe a bit of blood, it didn't matter because you could already feel yourself breathing heavily and sweating. It was like the entire world vanished around you. You couldn't breath, you couldn't think, your mind was on edge and your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You were completely paralized with fear, your hands shaking furiously, making you drop whatever you were holding.

These episodes started becoming more and more frequent, the more you tried to fight against them, the stronger they became. Whenever Charlie, Vaggie or any guest tried to ask you about them you always tried to brush them off, not wanting them to see it as a weak spot to exploit.

After several episodes and you refusing to open yourself, Alastor had enough of watching you suffer and decided to take matters into his own hands. So, he took you to Rosie.

If you expected something out of a place called 'Cannibal Town' it certainly wasn't that. It looked so... normal, like any other town you would have found back in your time. Well, if you ignored the people eating an entire corspe on the street. Your father gently moved your face to face front, because apparently it was rude to stare.

Oh Rosie immediately adored you. 100% godmother material. That southern belle couldn't wait to pamper you and dress you up in all kinds of fancy clothes.

Talking to Rosie was surprisingly, easy, if you looked over her cannibalistic tendencies. She kindly offered you some fresh fingers, but quickly backed up when she saw you turning green, jokingly saying "Ah, teenagers and their diets."

Sessions with Rosie always left you crying and drained but in a positive way, you felt like a huge load had been lifted off your shoulders. It may be a long road ahead but it was a great start.

Talking to Vaggie also helped. Turns out being a former exterminator had left not only physical but psychological scars on her. The first months after she had been left to die in hell had also been very struggling for her. She helped you with breathing exercises, held your hands when they started shaking, and even was willing to teach you some self defence. Which your dad opposed to.

Charlie was... Charlie, always positive and upbribing but also respecting your boundaries, you were almost starting to belive she was being genuine.

There was another member of the staff who had not been present when you were first brought there and you had yet to meet. The King of Hell himself, Lucifer. Just knowing he could be there send shivers down your spine, wondering what kind of diabolical entity could he be. When you first saw that 4' overly excited manchild, at first you thought it was a joke.

Lucifer took a liking to you pretty easily, much to the annoyance of Alastor. He was curious about how someone as innocent and young as you could have ended in a place like that and vowed to protect you if someone ever gave you trouble. Your dad is seething. "Here, take this." And he just gives you a toy duck who backflips and makes the cutest rubber ducky noise. You loved it. Your dad is about to break the no-killing rule.

Alastor tried to win back your trust and love, even if he knew it was going to be a long and arduous task. He didn't care. He just got you back he was never letting you go.

He may not believe entirely in Charlie's dream, but he knew that if it was possible the one who had more chances to go straight to Heaven would be you. And he was not having that.

Alastor briefly considered making a deal to own your soul, just to ensure your safety and his control.

Up to this day he still doesn't know how you ended down there, and can't wait for the day when you will trust him enough to tell him.

He will respect your boundaries begrudgingly, he is your dad, he knows best. Will play nice and let you take your time with things. He will quietly show support for your emotional progress and make light physical contact, just enough to be supportive and not freak you out.

He cooks for you, and only you. The old homemade grandma's recipes he used to make back in your living times. At first, you didn't trust it, thinking he could have poisoned it. But the second you tasted his Jambalaya you felt like crying. Not only because after ninety years barely eating you were famished, but because for a couple of seconds, something there in the taste and smell had brought you back to simpler times. (like the Ratatouille guy)

Alastor truly desires to hear you call him 'Dad' again, you had yet to do so. Yes, you recognise him as your father, but after everything it just pains you to address him as such. It's like your dad and Alastor were two separate people. The loving father vs the serial killer, the guardian vs the Radio Demon.

He really loves you very much and it's been hard on him to keep that much distance from his little fawn. So he takes out his frustration on others, don't turn the radio on when he tells you not to.

And with time, his efforts were rewarded. Somewhat. You seemed to have gotten a bit more comfortably around him, at least you didn't flinch or recoil anytime he approached you. But you couldn't forget, you couldn't overlook the fact that he was a murderer and a cannibal and still doubted if anything you two had lived together had been truly genuine.

Honestly, it offended him that you would even think that way. Wasn't he there for you, always? Didn't he protect you from the darkness of the outside world during your living times? Wasn't he, as a father, devoted enough to his fawn?

But of course, actions spoke louder than words, and his actions had left too many cracks in your trust. But he will keep trying to win you back. Alastor's very patient demon, he has all the time in the world.

Y̸̗͉̺̱͂̕o̸̧̯̞̟̰̪̗̱̳̱̎̈̿̄̄͛̅͝͝û̴̦͔̹͈̣̥̾͛͑͗͋̅̏̂̚ͅ ̷̭͋̈͛̽͒̅̀̈́́̚ă̷̢̢̖̦͕̞͚͔̻̳̅̇̃͌̿͐̄̃̕r̵̨̢̺̦͇͚̙̈́̅̽́̊͠ę̶̺̖͋̐͐͌͘͠͝ ̶̖̲͎̜̮͚͉̰̒n̵̢͕̝͖̗̜̣̾̾̇̾̅̽͊͘ǫ̴̼̺̠̱̦̘̒̈̎̿̇́̔̉t̴͙͇̼̱̻̦̦͔̖͙̍͌ ̸̩̂́̎͒͘g̶͔͚̰̺͔͉͓͍͔̈́̽̈́͋͘͜o̵̹͔̫͚̼͚͒͑į̷̧̫͔̹͉̰̘̮̍͋͒̈n̸̢͕̙̙̞͔̓͐̓ͅg̵͖͇̜͚̗͙̤̫̱̝̉̂́̚ ̴̪̂͑̓̊͛a̷̖̞͊̄̈́͑͋̈́̄͘n̶̻̟̙̝̪̩͂̋͗ẏ̸̨̛̱̱͇̱͖̤͕̥͛́̍̂͛̕͠w̸̛̖͎̫̑h̵͔̝̣̀ẹ̵̝͍̳̟͚̪̍̒͋̒̀̊̏r̷̨͉͉̒̑̉̒̄̎̓̎͜͝͠ȅ̸̩͇̳.̵̠̪̖̍͂͠.

[withlovemark]

to be loved - steve harrington

warning: mentions of steve's wounds, little angst! but it's a happy ending i promise

pairing: steve x reader

words: 2.3k+

summary: steve finally allows himself to believe in love again

an: i posted this a couple of days ago? and just now realized it got deleted. not really sure what happened there. anyways, found this in my drafts a week ago? (i have no concept of time). i didn't want to leave it rotting there so i wrote a quick ending and here you go. hope its okay!

-

three light taps, a knock that echoed throughout the boy’s dimly lit room, a sound enough to startle him after the events that have taken place in the past few days. not a single other person was in this house, a normality that he has accepted. steve’s parents were never around and he had no other relatives that would even care if he was still alive. his friends were a bunch of high schoolers, except for robin and…you.

he knows he’s messed it up with you. he can see it with the way you avoid his glances, the way you would choose to sit in the furthest chair away from him, the way you would get quiet when he was around and the way you stopped yourself from reaching out for him. the familiarity of your touch is no longer accessible, becoming only a memory. he can’t blame you though, your last words to him still replaying in his mind, loud and clear.

“i don't think i can do this anymore steve, i can't keep coming to your house, sleeping in your clothes, doing things that friends aren’t supposed to be doing, just for you to still be thinking about her.” 

he’s about to roll over onto his bed. to sleep the remnants of the past away. to keep ignoring everything like he always does and get ready for a new day, pretending he was healed. that he was okay. he was not. 

nowadays, it’s easier to slap a smile on his face instead of talking about his feelings. the last time he let himself truly feel something, he got his heart ripped out of his chest and trampled upon like it meant nothing, like it was a rock you could use to skip stones, one that you could let go of and not care enough whether it comes back to shore or get lost in the deepest parts of the lake. 

another knock makes its way to his ears. he thinks he’s imagining it until another one comes. grabbing the bat he hid between his nightstand, he slowly made his way to his bedroom door, feeling absolutely drained. the pain on his stomach, from the demobats that got a taste, still stinging, a pain that travels throughout his body with every miniscule movement. slowly, he carefully unlocks his door, ready to swing, until his brown eyes meet your wide, shocked ones. letting out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he slowly lowers his bat. 

“hi,” you whisper, “i uh, got in using the spare key,” a sheepish smile on your lips, holding up the silver key that was hidden in the dead plant placed on his front door. the key he told you about so you could sneak into his house at any given moment. the key that led to love marks all over his body, painting pink and purple constellations. the key you haven’t used since that night you decided to end whatever it was there to end. 

“you agreed to no feelings, that we would just be friends with benefits and that's it, you know that's all it could be,” steve has his face resting on his palm, his once perfectly styled hair going in different directions. like this - bare chest, lips still red from yours, neck stained beautifully by the artwork you left behind, he looked like he belonged in an art gallery. 

“i-i know, but i-i couldn’t help it…it’s just so easy to fall in love with you,” a confession that leaves the boy paralyzed, doe, teary eyes staring up at his brown ones — almost pleading.

“stop. you don’t know what you’re saying.” he’s angry. mad that those words could slip past your lips so easily. mad that even though you’re looking at him like he somehow brought the moon to you, he still can’t find it in himself to believe it. 

“steve-,” you try to reach out for his hand but he pulls away before you could even feel him. all you want is to pull him into your arms, to remind him that he is worth loving but you see the battle in his eyes, the war that’s taking place in his mind and you know he has his kingdom closed, walls up, ready to strike and defend himself at any second. there is no room for you in his castle, you see that now. 

“i-im sorry,” your voice was gentle, afraid he’ll completely lock the gate on you. the last thing you wanted was to fight, you’re defenseless when it comes to him. 

“let’s just pretend that none of this happened and we can go back to being friends, nothing changes and for the sake of us and the others, no questions asked,” his words were met with silence that cuts through like a sword against your neck. 

you felt detached from reality, feeling like you were watching this conversation happen instead of being a part of it. you had no control when you slowly got off his bed and quietly switched back into your clothes, his words transferring a sort of numbness to your whole being. 

he watched as you removed his t-shirt from your body and tossed it into his laundry bag, slipping back into your own clothes, making him think that his old t-shirt looked way better on you. yet all he did was watch. watched as you gave him one last forced smile and walked out of his room. the sound of the front door opening and closing traveling throughout the house. 

the days that followed after were stolen glances, opposite directions, uncomfortable silences, tiptoes, lingering feelings, longing stares, tension. neither one budged nor made the effort to even act like friends, going along with the others like they were fools when in reality, there can be no one more foolish than the pair. 

“hi?” he greets you just as quietly, head tilted, confused, like a puppy who was hearing a new sound for the first time. he sees you glance at his bandaged stomach, eyes traveling up to his bruised neck and notices the way you want to reach out to him but just like all the other times before, you stop yourself. 

“i-uh i brought you some food, and a first aid kit,” your voice still a mere whisper, he nods, guards down, stepping aside as you walk into the room you’ve been in countless times before. 

you placed the bag on his vanity, taking out it’s contents one by one and like before, he sat upon his bed and watched — a bowl that seemed to contain his favorite chicken noodle soup coming into view, it’s aroma hitting his nostrils, a clear tupperware filled with your famous homemade chocolate cookies, one that smells like home, the ones the kids would fight over with, resulting to an extra batch made just for him since he never won. 

he suddenly realizes how hungry he was, not really having the motivation nor the appetite to keep his stomach full. his body responds by lightly growling, a sound he hoped you didn’t hear.

“you should eat,” you break the silence, looking at him through his vanity mirror, “gonna need all your strength back to make sure you can always play hero,” you send him a small smile, he softly chuckles at your words, eyes falling to his sheets which suddenly became interesting, when was the last time he changed his sheets anyway. 

“i also brought you new bandages so you can change that every couple of hours, make sure it doesn’t get infected, with all these monsters around, that’d be the lamest way to go, y’know?,” you joked, trying to lighten the air. he stares at your back, contemplating. regardless of the fact that you were always an arm length away, he missed you.

he wants to be selfish. he wants to be taken care of, to be loved. 

and for the first time in a while, his mind is silent, focusing only on the fact that you are there.

making his way over to you, he wraps his arms around your waist, hands falling on top of each other, sitting tightly on your stomach, his head hiding on the crook of your neck, light puffs of air falling from his lips causing goosebumps to rise all over your body. he feels you stiffen, holding your breath, before relaxing back into his chest, hand gently hovering over his. you stay that way for a while, a minute or two, before you turn around, still in his embrace. slowly your hands make their way to his neck, fingers dancing lightly around his red, bright scar and ever so gently, landing around his cheek, eyes on yours, “are you okay?”

with those three words, the gates open and with it came a river of tears. he shakes his head no and this time, he lets you pull him into your arms as he found solace in your warmth, your perfume that smelled like the sweetest of flowers, making him feel like the sun was on his back as he laid his head on your chest. your fingers immediately run through his silky hair and he feels like a huge weight has just been lifted off his shoulders. 

“thank you for being here,” his voice hoarse from the quiet cries that slipped past his lips, he pulled away, admiring the way the moonlight from his window reflected itself into your eyes, brushing back the strand of hair that dangled in front of them. 

“i-i thought i was gonna lose you,” words that broke the boy’s heart. he can’t even imagine what he would have done if the roles were reversed. “i-i was so scared,” you continue, trying to hold back the tears that were begging to fall. 

“hey,” rough palms making it’s way to your cheeks, softly caressing you, golden eyes shining, “you will never lose me.”

“haven’t i already?,” you cry out. you hated the way you danced around him like he was a stranger. hated the fact that you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in him, afraid you would cross the line that the boy remarkably drew out and completely lose access to him. 

“no,” he lightly shakes his head, “ no….hey, look at me,” his finger under your chin, gently pleading for your eyes to find his. “i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere, i’m sorry i’ve been running, i was just…scared,” he admits. 

“scared of what?,” you urge him on, waiting for the answer to the problem you’ve been trying to solve. his hands find their way around yours as he looks down, composing his thoughts. 

“i was scared you would finally realize there will always be someone better, that you’d leave and i’d be all alone again,” he spills his truths. and you can’t fathom how blind you’ve been to not see it. the reason behind nancy appearing in his thoughts. 

“i’m not her, you know?” you say quietly. he nods, “i-i know,” he says guiltily. 

“and i don’t want better, steve…i just want you,” you confess into the night, steve feels all the air rush into his lungs, almost like he was learning how to breathe for the first time. he searches your eyes for any signs of doubt but only saw his own reflection in them. 

“do you want me?” you barely heard your own voice, afraid of the answer. he scoffs, “god, is that even a question?,” you look at him, confusion etched onto the creases of your eyebrows and steve almost wished the bats got him instead of realizing that he has left you doubting his feelings for you.

“of course i want you,” his brown eyes staring deeply into yours, “i can’t get you out of my head, all this time all i wanted was to be near you, to hold your hand, god, y/n i’m in love with you and i prayed, god i prayed to a guy i barely believed in that we would both make it out there alive because i-i can’t imagine my life without you and-,” he’s breathless, telling you everything he has wanted for weeks. word after word stumbling out of his lips as your smile grew with every syllable, until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

you pulled the boy towards you and like magnets, you connected, quickly placing your lips against his before your eyes drowned in your favorite color, the smile forming on his lips evident “i said it before but i’m in love with you too.” 

his eyes soften, finally allowing himself to believe those words, soft lips meets yours once again, battling, making up for all the lost time, hands automatically finding its way up his brown curls like they were meant to always be there, his, around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible, fearing that if he let you go, you’ll disappear as if it was a dream.

but as you make that little sound, the one that drives him crazy, butterflies erupting in his stomach, he knows that this is better than any dream he could ever imagine. you were here with him. you were in love with him. 

your hands slowly starts making its way down to his body, but before the situation could escalate, he can’t help but break the kiss off, the pain from his wounds still evident, he lets out a sharp moan, “ow,” snapping you back to reality.

“oh my god, i'm so sorry,” you apologize, inspecting his bandages. 

“don’t be,” he reassures you, a light kiss placed upon your lips, “you’re worth it,” he teased, causing your giggles to harmonize, his forehead leaning against yours, a content sigh slipping off his lips. two eyes crinkling, sharing light smiles. 

“as much as i would love to stare into your eyes forever” you break the dream-like state, “i worked really hard on that chicken noodle soup and it would be a shame for it to go to waste,” you laugh and he holds on to the moment as long as possible. 

“now, we wouldn’t want that, plus we have forever to lovingly gaze in each other’s eyes,” he winks, sending you into a fit of laughter. he kisses you one more time before grabbing your favorite t-shirt, his t-shirt, in his drawer and handing it to you.  

an: i really don't post in this acc unless i have something to post lmao. also, currently in my bridgerton phase so don't mind the profile pic, or do mind it? feel free to let me know your favorite bridgerton :)

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Lady

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Melimina (Betrothal) Rating - Sexy Word Count - 3435

Jace lingered on the balcony of his chamber in dragonstone watching as vermax flew around the castle restlessly. He felt angry, so trapped here on dragonstone while the war wages, his mother refused him to go and broker alliances, she refused him to fight, even to fly vermax. She said it wasn't safe. That he was her heir and he needed to be safe... He felt like a coddled princeling. To stand at home with mommy while a war for his family, his claim went on within him. He leaned his back against the stone wall behind him feeling the coldness of the hard stone against his body, a sudden wave of frustration took over him. Being confined on Dragonstone felt like a death sentence. Jacaerys looked up in the sky watching Vermax fly in circles around the castle. It was like he knew what he was going through.

"My prince?" the sound of footsteps come out to the balcony, and his betrothal lady Melimina appeared in her black gown with red pattern in the fabric with a dragon pin at her waist to secure it on her body. She nervously stepped out but kept her distance, "Is something troubling you?

He looked down at her, his eyes piercing into her own gaze and noticed that she kept her distance as if she was afraid of coming closer to him. "It seems like you already know the answer to that" he said before looking back at the sky watching Vermax fly around.

She nodded "She only wishes to protect you My prince." She said softly, "you are her heir, her future. The targaryen future, the Velaryon future, so much rests on you... And ... After what happened… to lucerys" she said tenderly

He exhaled loudly as he heard her speak the name of his younger brother. The memories of that day still fresh and painful as if it had happened yesterday. "I know that, but she doesn't have to keep me on a leash and shut me away in this place. I can fight, I can-" he looked down at his feet clenching his fists before continuing "...I can do more than she thinks."

"I'm sure you can," she nodded trembling slightly at the sight of his fists "but... Patience, is a great thing for the future king also?" She encouraged

His breath grew heavy, anger and disappointment coursing through his veins as he realized how right she was. Being patient was definitely a virtue. He unclenched his fists and took in a deep breath before looking back into her eyes. "You're right." he exhaled as he leaned his back against the wall once again "I'm just tired of this... waiting around while the others fight out there. I want to be a part of this war too."

"And you sit on your mother's council, beside her every discussion of movements and tactics. She is teaching you to lead. I know it's frustrating... And I... I wish I could help"

He chuckled faintly at her comment. A part of him felt a sense of comfort in knowing that she was trying to understand him, trying to help. Even if it might be just a little. He looked down and then at her again, the tension in his body starting to ease as he spoke. "Your presence alone is enough, Melimina. Having you talk to me is help, I suppose. I'd go insane if I stayed here by myself."

She blushed "thank you my prince,"

A small, soft smile appeared on his lips noticing her gentle blush. "There's no need to thank me." he spoke in a low, soft tone. His eyes lingered on her form, taking in every detail. From the way her black dress hugged her to the small dragon pin resting at her waist.

"... I have heard word of discussions to meet with the tullys of riverrun and the freys of the crossing... Your mother had suggested I go" she explained

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "The Tullys and the Freys?" he repeated, processing the information. "And she suggested you go? I wonder why..." he said, a hint of suspicion in his voice

"... My grandmother was a Tully, my prince"

He looked at her with a bit of surprise, the pieces coming together in his mind. "I see... you have family there, then. I suppose that's why my mother thought it a good idea for you to go."

"... Perhaps, if you wish I could ask her to send you instead?"

His gaze snapped back to her, a flicker of hope appearing in his eyes. The thought of leaving Dragonstone filled him with a renewed energy, and he couldn't conceal the excitement on his face as he replied "I... I would appreciate that, Melimina, truly. It would mean a lot if I could go instead."

"... And perhaps," She blushed "... Maybe we might... Go together?" She suggested nervously

His eyes widened at her suggestion, a mixture of surprise and interest crossing his face. The thought of going away with her, together... the idea was both exciting and nerve-wracking. "Together?" he repeated, the words leaving his mouth slowly as if to savor the idea "I... I wouldn't mind that."

"perhaps two dragons could be more persuasive then one. And perhaps the... Royal heir and his... Future wife... The potential future king and queen may... Inspire some alliance?" She struggled not to giggle

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a faint smile at her suggestion. The thought of using their status and future titles to inspire loyalty and gain alliances... it was a strategically smart move. But there was more to it than that. It would be a chance for them to get closer, to spend time together away from the confines of Dragonstone, "You're quite clever, Melimina. And you're right again... two dragons are definitely more persuasive than one."

she blushed and nodded "I will put it to her at the council in the morning,"

He smiled and nodded in agreement, a wave of anticipation and excitement coursing through him at the prospect of potentially going on this journey. It was the first time in a long while that he looked forward to something. "I'll be looking forward to that council then. Thank you, Melimina. For considering it, for helping me..." he said genuinely, his expression turning into a soft and warm gaze.

"your welcome, of course I want to help... It ....breaks my heart to see you upset," she explained "and..." She chuckled looking out to vermax still circling, "I know starlight hates to see vermax so stressed,"

He laughed softly, gazing alongside her at Vermax still flying around the castle. The mention of Starlight, Melimina's own dragon, being worried about his own dragon brought a lighthearted moment to their conversation. "Ah, yes, Starlight... she's as perceptive as her owner it seems. We can't have our dragons worried about us too, can we?" he replied, looking back at her with a lighter, more relaxed expression.

"no, they should be down on the caves... Relaxing together" she cooed

His eyes widened at the idea. The thought of their dragons interacting and relaxing together was a cute and endearing image that brought a soft smile to his lips. "Relaxing together, huh? I like the sound of that. Vermax and Starlight... maybe they're already in love like their riders," he teased, his voice playful and lighthearted.

"I've caught them cuddling" she blushed

He was taken aback by the revelation and laughed incredulously. "Cuddling? You're serious?" he asked, his eyebrows raised, unable to believe that their dragons were in a more intimate relationship than they were. A hint of jealousy tugged at him, but he quickly dismissed it as he replied with a chuckle. "I never thought I'd feel outdone by my own dragon"

"out done my prince?"

He chuckled softly and looked back at her, a hint of playful competitiveness in his eyes. "Yes, outdone. Sounds like Vermax and Starlight have a more intimate relationship than we do..” he teased, his voice gentle but with a hint of suggestion.

she blushed "perhaps they do... But their dragons they don't have .. the rules and regulations we do"

He smirked, amused by her reaction and the point she made. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them slightly. "Ah, yes. The rules and regulations... such pesky things, aren't they? They keep us in line, make sure we behave." he said, his voice dropped to a lower, more intimate tone. He continued closing the distance between them little by little, the proximity creating a charged atmosphere that heightened the tension between them. He gazed at her intently, his eyes studying her every feature with a mixture of desire and restraint. "But rules and regulations... They also make things more interesting, don't you think? It adds a bit of... excitement. The thrill of breaking the rules... the forbidden."

she Blushed hard looking out to vermax and the waves, "makes me wonder if you'll have interest in me... When not forbidden fruit"

His gaze followed hers to look out at Vermax and the waves for a moment, his mind momentarily distracted. But then, he looked back at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of intensity and tenderness. "Ah, so you worry that once the thrill of the forbidden is gone, my interest in you might waver?" he asked, his voice smooth and low, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"it does ... Worry me" she admits fiddling with her fingers

He noticed her fiddling with her fingers, a sure sign of her nerves and concern. He stepped even closer, close enough that their bodies were almost touching. "I can assure you," he replied softly, his voice gentle and sincere, "that my interest in you goes beyond the thrill of the forbidden, Melimina. You are more than that to me... and you will continue to be, even when the 'forbidden' is gone."

"... It is another reason I hate this war so very much"

He raised an eyebrow curiously, silently asking her to elaborate on her statement. He listened intently, his body still close to hers as he waited for her to continue.

"if not for the war... We... We'd have been married by now"

His expression softened, his mind going back to the original plan and timeline. If not for the war, if everything had gone in their favor... they would indeed be married by now and ruling from the Iron Throne. "Yes, we would..." he said quietly, his voice laced with a hint of longing and disappointment. He took a step back, his gaze drifting away from her towards the horizon, his mind momentarily lost in thought.

"your mother would be queen. You'd be her heir. I'd be your ... Princess. We might have even had a child on the way by now. You'd be prince jacaerys Velaryon of dragonstone, heir to the iron throne."

Each word she said was like a stab to the heart, a reminder of the potential future that could have been. He had imagined that future too, countless times, and now it felt like it was slipping further and further away. "I know..." he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. He turned his gaze back to her, his eyes full of melancholy and longing. "That was the plan... that was how it was supposed to be."

"well..." She sighed "then we must end this war quickly, so things can be as they should"

He nodded in agreement, the determination in her words reigniting a fire within him. He looked at her with renewed resolve, his features hardening. "You're right," he said firmly, "we need to end this war as soon as possible. I won't rest until everything is how it should be again. Until my mother is queen and I am her heir as intended." He then stepped closer to her again, his eyes locked onto hers. This time, the distance between them seemed even more significant. Their bodies were almost touching, their proximity creating a charged atmosphere that was both electrifying and dangerous. "Melimina," he spoke softly, his voice low and laced with a hint of a promise, "I swear to you that I will do whatever it takes to make our future a reality. No matter the cost, no matter the sacrifices..."

"as honourable as that is my prince, I'd prefer you just... Be safe and well by the end. The crown makes no matter to me"

Her words made him pause, a wave of warmth and gratitude washed over him. Her concern for his safety and well-being was not something he was used to. He was the prince, expected to risk life and limb for his ambitions, but hearing her prioritize his safety over the crown made him feel a strange mixture of emotions. "You... you are a rare one, Melimina," he said quietly, his voice tinged with admiration and affection. "Most people in our world would prioritize their own gain and power above all else."

"... I'd be happy… in a little stone cottage with a waterwheel, in the river lands with you. Then all of westeros under my throne and a crown on my head without you"

He was taken aback by her words. The simplicity and sincerity of her statement struck him deeply. It was such an unexpected and yet touching notion. "A stone cottage with a waterwheel in the riverlands..." he repeated thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on her. Her preference for a simpler life with him over a grand throne and crown, it was almost too good to be true. He reached out and lightly touched her arm, his fingers gently brushing against her skin as if he couldn't quite believe she was real. "You truly mean that, don't you?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with disbelief and awe. "You would give up the throne, the crown, everything... just to have a simple life with me?"

"I would. Just somewhere safe, and cosy. Somewhere to raise little children, and... Have vermax and starlight snuggle in the barn together" she giggled brushing her fingers against his but to afraid to touch him quickly moving her hands to her stomach to fiddle with her fingers once more

He chuckled as she described the image of their future life, his imagination running wild. The thought of a quiet, peaceful life with her and their dragons... it was an enticing prospect. His eyes fixated on hers, watching the nervous fiddling and the almost-touch of their hands. "A cosy cottage... Starlight and Verax in the barn... little children running about..." he mused. "It sounds like an idyllic life, almost too good to be true."

"umm, waking by dawn, pressing apples with the waterwheel, feeding chickens, watching the children run, the dragons snuggling and .. having eggs to place in our own babies cradle... Fishing and farming and..." She Blushed but Giggled stopping herself

His lips curled into a small smile as he listened to her daydream. Her descriptions of their simple life painted a vivid picture in his mind, one that was almost too perfect. "And what else, Melimina?" he asked, her sudden pause piquing his curiosity. He watched her blush and giggle, knowing there was more to her fantasy than she was letting on.

"it's foolish" she blushed

His smile widened slightly as he noticed her blushing. He took a step closer, intrigued now by what she was hiding. "No, please tell me. I want to know what else you imagine. It's not foolish," he said softly, his voice reassuring and encouraging.

"... I... Imagined ... Looking out the cottage window while making a nice chicken stew, watching the children play with their baby dragons, vermax and starlight flying across the sky hunting sheep, and... You... Walking out in the summer sun ... Shirtless to chop wood for the fire" she Blushed her fingers fiddling with her dragon pin on her dress unable to meet his eyes she was so embarrassed

His eyes widened slightly at her words, a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face. The image she painted was undeniably captivating, and the thought of being the shirtless, wood-chopping, dragon-riding husband in her dream made him feel oddly proud. "Ah... I see," he said, his voice low and tinged with a hint of amusement. He took another step closer, his body almost touching hers now. He reached out and gently took her chin, tilting her head up so she would meet his gaze.

"forgive me I-"

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on hers, gently silencing her with a soft brush of his thumb against her chin. "Don't apologize," he said softly in a low voice, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. "I... I find it endearing, actually. The image of me as a shirtless, wood-chopping dragon rider, tending to our children and their baby dragons while you make a stew." He chuckled again, his smile still evident in his voice. His hand moved upwards, his fingers caressing her jawline gently. He was now so close to her that he could feel the warmth of her breath, her eyes staring up at him nervously. "It's a beautiful dream, I'll give you that..." he said huskily, his eyes darkened with a mix of desire and affection. His other hand moved to her hip, pulling her slightly closer to him

"but... It is only a dream. We are to rule.. as king and queen someday"

He chuckled wryly, his eyes never leaving hers. He gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek for a moment. "True... we are destined for greatness. But it doesn't mean we can't have brief moments to indulge in our little fantasies, does it?" His hand on her hip pulled her even closer, their bodies now almost pressed together, his touch firm yet tender. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. "Imagine it..." he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Me, coming in all hot and sweaty from chopping wood. You, finishing up your chicken stew. Our children and their dragons playing around us, the dragons cuddling in the corner..." His hand on her hip tightened, pulling her flush against him. He leaned down, his mouth hovering just millimeters away from hers, his lips almost touching hers as he continued

she giggled and blushed even harder at the thought

His lips curled into a smile, his eyes darkened with desire as he watched her giggle and blush. He was enjoying this game of theirs, the way she was reacting to his words and his touch. "And after we've had our dinner, I'd take you by the fireplace..." he said huskily, his mouth still close to hers, their faces almost touching. "I'd hold you in my arms, the fire casting shadows on our skin as I kiss your neck, your jaw, your collarbone..." His hand on her hip moved lower, his fingers tracing the curve of her body, his touch sending shudders through her as he continued to describe their fantasy. "I'd kiss you until you're breathless, until you're craving me, until you're begging for me..." he murmured, his lips now tantalizingly close to her ear, his voice low and full of promise.

she giggled again "... I do hope you've put the children to bed before all this"

He let out a soft laugh, his breath warm on her skin. He pulled back slightly, admiring her flushed cheeks and wide eyes. "Oh, I definitely have..." he said, his voice low and seductive. "The little ones are asleep in their beds, dreaming of their baby dragons and tomorrow's adventures. We're all alone in the cozy cottage by the fire..." his hand on her hip moved lower again, gently caressing the curve of her ass.

"ooh-" she gasped glancing at his hands red blush across her cheeks and nose

He chuckled again, noticing the way her eyes darted to his hands. He continued caressing her ass, his fingers tracing lazy circles over the fabric of her dress, his touch firmer now, more possessive. "Are you enjoying these little... fantasies?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He pulled her even closer, his body now pressing snuggly against hers, their hips touching, his lips ghosting over her jawline.

she nodded "we uhh we should... We shouldn't -"

"We shouldn't..." he repeated, mimicking her tone, knowing full well they should stop. His lips traced a path from her jawline down her neck, to her collarbone. "But do we really want to stop?" His hand on her ass pulled her even closer, his body fully pressed against hers now, leaving no space between them at all. He started gently nipping at her skin, trailing kisses along her shoulder and collarbone, enjoying the way she shivered at his touch.

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ guilty as sin ”

jason grace x fem!reader ⚡️

if there’s no such as thing as bad thoughts, why is y/n feeling so guilty? | pt. 2

⚠️ cheating, swearing, breaking girl code, make out, sexual insinuation & while i was posting this there was random lightning and thunder so took that as a sign that this was pretty good

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first thing Y/N noticed about Jason was his girlfriend. Okay, maybe that wasn't the first thing, but it was up there. Maybe the first thing she noticed was his hair, the way that sun shined around it, making his aura glow. Or maybe it was the way his eyes were so vibrant that she felt like she was drowning in the Blue Nile. Or, gods, his muscles. The way his shirt was barely able to conceal his abs. Then, his absolutely beautiful girlfriend, who surprise, surprise, was a daughter of Aphrodite.

Of course she knew she had to keep these feelings locked inside a vault. Especially at how she so easily befriended Piper, who if she knew about these feelings, would have Y/N’s head. But how was she supposed to? Whenever she saw him, basically doing nothing, her mind already had images of him flashing in her mind that she tried so desperately to flick away.

But once the feelings had gotten too intense, she had to tell someone. So she turned to the wisest person she knew, Annabeth Chase. She decided to walk to the Athena cabin after training. She found the blonde reading a book on her bed. She approached her, speaking up, “hey, can we talk?” she looked around, “privately?”

Annabeth nodded before leaving alongside Y/N. She led her to cabin 3, which was uninhabited since the disappearance of Percy.

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth began.

Y/N sighed before explaining the ordeal to the girl. Excluding certain fantasies about the boy that not even Zeus himself could get her to confess.

“As a girlfriend of a guy who everyone has a crush on,” she began, seeming annoyed at her own statement, “don't act on it.”

Y/N nodded, “yeah, I could never act on it, I mean, Piper’s my friend,” she paused and looked up at the daughter of Athena, “I’m not a bad person am I?”

“There’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.”

But after a few months. After they found out the memories were fake, that Jason was a Roman demigod, that there was no relationship to begin with, Y/N had the guilty hope that they would break up. But no. Instead they continued dating? She was furious, while also hating herself every second of every day. She had thought that maybe after all this time the feelings would go away. But they didn't! They wouldn't! They couldn't!

Every time she saw the two of them together, she wanted to vomit. Especially when they’d act all couple-like and kissing and hugging and standing within a ten foot radius.

One day at archery practice, she was about to shoot, when she saw the couple walking nearby. She immediately sunk into herself. She drew back her arrow, sulking, until she heard a loud, “ow, fuck!”

She looked up, realizing that she had accidentally shot the foot of the son of Apollo that had been helping her. She gasped, “oh my gods, I’m so sorry.”

He sat on the grass, holding onto his bleeding foot, “dont worry about it,” he hissed through the pain. A few other campers ran over to help him over to the infirmary.

She awkwardly looked around, unsure of what to do.

“What happened, Y/N?” The sound of Piper’s voice behind her caught her attention.

She paused, looking up at the blond boy before back to Piper, “I got distracted and, uhm, accidentally shot him.”

“Is he okay?” Jason questioned.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she brushed off, “a little arrow in the foot never killed anyone.”

“Achilles would beg to differ,” he remarked with a smirk. Gods, that was going to be the death of her, The way his scar curved with his mouth. She liked to imagine he got the scar in a battle to the death against a Roman beast- or whatever, she didn't really understand what happened at that camp, other than the fact that they had really hot guys.

She must have been staring for too long as Piper looked back up at her boyfriend herself, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N panicked, “I should go see if he’s okay,” she ran off to the direction of the infirmary.

“You shot someone in the foot?!”

“Annabeth, I really don't feel like talking about this right now.”

“No, Y/N,” she stood in front of Y/N, “why?”

“Jason-”

Annabeth shook her head, “he has a girlfriend.”

“I know, that’s the problem-”

“She’s not the problem, Y/N,” the girl interrupted again, “you're being so immature, you have to get over this.”

Y/N turned around to see Piper and Jason laughing about something. She looked back at Annabeth, “I’ll try.”

That next week, she had gotten a date with a son of Hermes. It was a nice date, too. A picnic on the dock during the campfire.

“I was originally born in Minnesota, but then we moved to New Hampshire-” his voice was drowned out by her thoughts. She felt so… faithful to Jason. If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow? She felt like he had written ‘mine’ on her upper thigh in her mind- “what about you?”

“Oh, I’ve never been to Michigan.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I asked if you liked strawberries?”

“Oh,” she looked at the strawberry she had accidentally crushed in her hand, “yeah.”

“You don't like me, do you?”

She shook her head, “no, nothing with you. You're great, this picnic is amazing, I’m just… I am so in love with one of my best friends’ boyfriend. I’m just trying to get over him.”

“Jason?”

She looked at him, her mouth agape, “how did you…?”

“A good guess.”

She hid her face in her hands, tears welling in her eyes, “am I allowed to cry?”

He pulled her into a hug, “go talk to him.”

New advice? She’ll take it!

She stood up, “I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, promise!” she claimed before running off to the fire. Everyone was beginning to disperse, when the blond hair caught her eye. She rushed over to him, “I need to talk to you.”

He looked confused, but nodded, leading her into his cabin, “what’s up?”

“I have a huge fucking crush on you,” she blurted, “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. And I thought that if I told you, it would go away. I’m sorry.”

He stayed silent for a minute, thinking. He ran his fingers through his hair. Did everything about him have to be this fucking hot?

“I have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

He shook his head, “no, I need to remind myself of that. Y/N,” he walked closer to her, taking her hands in his, “I really like you, Y/N.”

She let out a deep breath, “Jason, that doesn't help.”

“It doesn't help me either, that’s why I’ve been trying to ignore it, but,” his right hand let go of hers, finding its way to her lips, “look at you.” He slowly leaned down to kiss her. Once, twice, thrice, four- over and over again. She wasn't even sure when she was suddenly pinned to his bed as their kisses got messier. His fingers traced the skin under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine, gasping when he would zap her.

“Jase,” she breathed, “this is really bad.”

He bit her bottom lip, “I know, we shouldn't-”

She kissed him again, “no.”

He leaned back, “Y/N, we really can’t.”

“I know, I know,” she heavily breathed, “but what are you saying?”

He stood up, forcing his glasses back on, “I need to go talk to Piper,” he grabbed her hand, helping her up, “go back to your cabin, let’s just forget about this.”

“No.”

“Y/N, please, we can talk some other time, but please, just go for now.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes, “right, okay,” she followed behind as he walked to the door, opening it for her. She looked up at him, “goodnight, Jason.”

He gently touched her arm, “goodnight.”

She walked out feeling shame and guilt fill her body. She felt it in all her limbs, making it hard for her to walk, feeling pulled down by her emotions, she wondered, without ever touching his skin, how could I be guilty as sin?