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trashogram · 10 months ago

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He Chose You (Pt.1)

Lucifer/Reader

Hazbin Hotel AU where Lilith never existed, Lucifer has been lonely for over a millennia and Charlie will be born one way or another. Rated E for explicit sexual content of the raunchiest variety in later chapters and also weird old people.

There was a knock at your door. It sounded like someone rapping their knuckles against the wood whimsically, as if following the beat of a song you couldn’t hear.

The methodical folding of your clothes into garage sale-quality drawers came to a halt. You looked over your shoulder, shifting on your feet hesitantly.

It had been little over a week since you moved into the grand old Donner apartment. Apart from a quick tow-in of shoddy furniture from your hired movers, no one had come calling.

You definitely weren’t expecting anyone either, not in a brand new city you’d spontaneously decided to live in.

After another moment of uncertainty, you pivoted to the door and inched it open to a slit you could peek through. “Hello?”

Your brow furrowed as you stared at the empty space ahead of you. Pulling the door open fully, you peered down one end of the hallway to the other.

Nothing but cracked and crumbling crown moldings on wainscoting, a matted-looking saxony carpet, the same musty, stale air…

‘Quack’

You nearly jumped out of your skin, head snapping down to see a real, live duck standing just outside your doorframe.

“Oh!”

You immediately squatted down to marvel at the animal. It gazed back up at you with beady red eyes and a curious gait.

“Hey little guy,” You cooed, smiling despite the incongruous image of a waterfowl in your building.

You raised a hand and reached out slowly, instinctive desire to pet the cute little creature warring with a minuscule yet no less embarrassing fear.

Were ducks typically friendly? You knew so little, ornithology not being your thing.

“Will you let me pet you?” Your fingers hovered over the surprisingly patient animal before it decided to nudge itself under your palm.

The duck shivered with delight at your touch, all-white feathers ruffling excitedly and tail wagging, looking akin to a very happy dog.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, heart melting. “You’re so cute!”

Soft feathers brushed against your bent knees as the duck drew close enough to rub its body against you. It had gone from doggish to cat-like effortlessly, and you couldn’t help giggling over how silly it looked.

“Where did you come from?” You asked after a bit of cuddling, glancing from side to side once again. The hallway remained empty, no one running to fetch what you assumed was a beloved pet.

‘That’s… weird.’ You thought. ‘So, who knocked on my door?’

It was tempting to ask the bird that was currently bouncing on its webbed feet. You couldn’t help but snort with laughter before positioning yourself so that you were sitting. In an instant, the duck made to climb into your lap, allowing you to carefully lift it onto your legs when it couldn’t reach.

“You’re so silly!” Grinning, you continued to stroke its head. “Your owner is probably worried sick about their silly little guy.”

‘Quack’

The duck burrowed its head against your stomach as it settled on your lap, and you sighed. “I’d love to keep you, but I don’t know how to take care of you, sweetie.”

Little red eyes bore into you from below, seemingly wide and beseeching. It was too precious, and too perfect (to the point where you idly wondered if someone was somehow scouting a way to scam you via adorable duck shenanigans).

Aside from the guttural, sad ‘wek’ you got in reply, a slow creak of hinges drew your attention back up. The door across from you had visibly opened the barest amount. You squinted, just able to make out frizzy red hair and a red-rimmed, down-turned mouth in the dim lighting.

“Oh hey, hi!” You stopped yourself from standing, instead of bracing the bundle in your lap close. “Is this your duck?”

A tingle went up your spine as the door opened fully and an old woman appeared. She was dressed in green capri pants and a ruffled tan blouse, hair red as an open flame and barely kept in-check by a cheetah-print scarf. The makeup she wore was caked on, harsh red lipstick smeared around her thin lips and black kohl-rimmed eyes popping out of her wrinkled face.

The sour, almost suspicious look on her face softened but did not completely go away, even when she smiled.

“Oh Lou!” She cried, making you jump. “You didn’t get very far, did you? I almost didn’t notice you were gone, you little scoundrel!”

“Well, thank goodness for that I guess. He’s got those little legs, ya see,” She nodded down at your lap, “but he’s so darn fast anyway, might as well be a midget racehorse!”

You chuckled and smiled politely. That persistent tingling at your back had you holding back a shiver, and the skin on your arms prickled and rose.

“I didn’t know we could have pet ducks in this building.” Your words belied a confidence, as well as interest in having a conversation with this woman, that you didn’t truly have.

As a matter of fact, despite the inner scolding you gave yourself for being judgmental, you were quite off-put in the woman’s presence. The want to return to your apartment and shut the door in her overly-painted face was rising like a lump in your throat.

“He seems to really like you, that’s so sweet. He’s not usually this friendly with anyone but my hubby. That’s Mr. Farrow, honey, have you met him?” The woman - presumably Mrs, Farrow, leaned down just a few feet away.

She still looked to be examining you and your avian companion, the bland pleasantness oozing yet unable to suffocate the shrewd glint in her dark eyes.

“Oh, uh, no. I’m afraid I haven’t -” You started.

“Oh, that’s alright! That’s fine! Matter of fact, he’d get an earful from me if he was talkin’ to a pretty thing like you without me knowin’!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Just kiddin’, honey. You’re new to the building though, aren’t you? Well, welcome! It’s nice to see a new face here! ‘Specially a young one!”

“Thank —”

“Maybe that’s why Lou is so taken with you! Animals just thrive off energy and sunshine and all that. Not slow, almost dead things. I’m sure you’re birds of a feather that way.”

Again, your soft laughter is polite, teetering on nervousness.

You took a moment to rise, humming apologetically when Lou squawked as he was jostled. On your feet, you instinctively stepped back. One foot over the threshold and solid in your apartment.

“He is really sweet.” You said, holding the animal out as carefully as you could. “I’m glad he didn’t get lost.”

Mrs. Farrow stared, arms falling to her sides. She didn’t attempt to take the bird from you for a long, long moment.

Confusion and disbelief clouded your mind as you stood, waiting, watching as Mrs. Farrow’s throat bobbed when she swallowed forcefully.

What? Was she afraid of the duck?

In a split-second, she returned to smiling animatedly and waved a geriatric hand in the air so flippantly that the uncomfortable moment ceased to exist.

“Oh honey, you can put him down if you want. He’ll come back over now that our door’s open.” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Lou’s not my biggest fan. He’s such a prideful thing, you know. Just like Mr. Farrow - it’s probably why they get along so well!”

You blinked, then slowly bent at the waist to let Lou down. The duck made another disdainful quack, red eyes looking at you morosely.

It’s little legs eventually rowed through the air in an effort to gain footing. You lightly placed him over the carpet and let go, allowing Lou to jump down.

The duck began waddling away, though it appeared to hang its head as it did so. Occasionally, he turned to look at you, somber and sullen as if bidding farewell before walking on death row.

“Aww, poor little thing.” Mrs. Farrow drawled. At your side. “Looks like my Lou is sweet on you! Poor guy, I can see why! Again, a lovely young thing like you is probably a gift from above in this stuffy old place.”

“Say, how long have you been here?”

You turned to the old woman. “About a week, I’m still getting settled.”

Mrs. Farrow nodded vigorously, eyes bright but mouth pursed. “A week, a week?! A week and no one’s introduced themselves to you?”

“Holy Toledo, you must think we’re all a bunch a’ snobs in here! That’s no good. Oh! Why don’t you come over for dinner sometime and me and my mister can show you some proper hospitality?”

“Oh, that's really nice of you —”

“Sure! Sure! It’ll be great, how ‘bout tomorrow night? It’d give us some time to get prepared, have things cleaned and settled. Do you like steak? That’d be perfect, actually. I’ve got some in the freezer just waitin’ to be defrosted.”

“Um, well — That’s a little short notice…”

“I’m sure Mr. Farrow won’t mind. He’ll be glad for the company, and if he isn’t, well he will be when I’m done with him.” She chortled. “Just another joke, honey. He’s always dyin’ to talk to someone that isn’t me. It’d be a real treat to him. Treat ta me too! What do you say?”

Your mouth opened and closed as a light sheen of sweat broke over the nape of your neck. Mrs. Farrow’s sharp eyes were wider, attempting to beguile you while your head was still spinning.

“I-I guess, maybe —” You stammered.

“Wonderful!” The eccentric woman’s eyes lit up like fireworks, cigarette-smoker’s voice becoming truly raucous in her delight. “I’ll go ahead and get started. You go get back to what it was you were doing before Lou and I interrupted you! And don’t worry about a thing! We might be old timers, but a good meal and good cheer never go out of style.”

Mrs. Farrow laughed, pretending to shoo you away until you were back inside your apartment and she was pulling your door to a close for you.

“Have a good night, honey! We’ll see you tomorrow! 6 o’clock, don’t be late!”

Before you knew it, you were staring at the back of your own door again.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

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deliciousangelfestival · 2 months ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 9

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“You know, to be honest... no,” you said, your voice steady, cold.

Ian’s eyes lit up with delight, misinterpreting your words at first. But his expression quickly faded as you added, “I don’t trust you either.”

Ian hadn’t expected that. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he was at a loss. He had been so sure of his position, of where he stood with you, that hearing your blunt confession shook him. Was this the same woman he had once admired? The one who had fought alongside him, standing up to injustice?

“I don’t trust anyone right now,” you continued, your voice low, carrying the weight of the burden you’ve been shouldering.

Ian’s lips tightened as he looked at you, searching for the person he thought he knew. “So you choose to stay with him.” The way he said it was both an accusation and a plea.

“It’s... complicated,” you replied, your voice wavering for the first time. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just about survival—it was about winning. About showing Caroline and everyone else that you could rise above it all. The desire to shove your victory in their faces burned more intensely than your desire to leave.

Ian shook his head, disappointment heavy in his voice. “I’m disappointed in you. This isn’t the friend I knew. The person who fought for the truth, the person I admired and...” He stopped himself. He didn’t need to say it, but you knew what came next—'the person I liked.'

“Ian...” you started, feeling the sting of his words, but before you could say more, the mood shifted sharply. People suddenly began flooding back into the café as though nothing unusual had happened. You exchanged a confused look with Ian, his surprise mirroring your own.

Tim’s cheerful voice cut through the confusion. “You had your coffee?” He waved, sitting comfortably in his wheelchair, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Your eyes darted to Bucky, who was standing behind Tim, his presence dominating the space. Flanked by bodyguards, he stepped into the café like he owned the place. For a moment, you felt a strange sense of relief seeing him, though you knew better than to fully trust that feeling.

“Ian! What's up!” Tim added, offering a friendly wave, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

You quickly grabbed your coffee cup, walking toward Bucky and whispering, “I want to go.”

Bucky didn’t take his eyes off Ian as he responded, “Go with Tim.” His voice was sharp, calculating. Something was off, and he knew it. The uneasy feeling had only grown when Tim mentioned that you hadn’t returned from the café. That’s why he had come—to check on you.

You nodded, quickly moving to push Tim’s wheelchair, eager to escape the thick tension in the air. The moment you stepped outside, you felt the weight lift, but the knot in your stomach remained.

Now, it was just Bucky and Ian. The tension between them could cut through glass.

Bucky’s eyes stayed cold, his expression unreadable, but his voice was smooth, measured. “I understand you hate my family,” he said, folding his arms. “I’m not here to defend what my brother did. There are no excuses for his actions. But you should know...” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, “You don’t get to play God with this situation.”

Ian stared at Bucky, his jaw clenched. “Your brother ruined lives. And you let him walk free until it was convenient for you to throw him under the bus.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small, calculating smile. “Let’s not pretend this is about justice, Ian. This is about revenge. Your brother was a tragedy, yes, but don’t stand there and act like your motives are pure.”

Ian leaned forward, his anger barely contained. “Maybe it is about revenge. But at least I’m not hiding behind the lie that this is all some grand scheme for the greater good. You sacrifice people for your ambition. You use them. Shawn. Me. Her.”

“But,” Bucky raised a single finger, his voice low but sharp, “you forget one thing. You can’t sue my family because the family that adopted your twin has already reached a settlement with us.”

Ian’s jaw tightened. “Money can’t replace my brother.”

Bucky gave a slow, measured nod. “That’s right. But the case is closed.” His voice was almost casual, like they were discussing a simple transaction.

“Do you really want to bring it up again and humiliate the adopted family that raised your twin? That couple is enjoying their pension life.” Bucky pulled out a photo, holding it up with a smirk. “Look, both of them are on a cruise. Carefree.”

Ian’s hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with anger.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. “You’re trying to bring me down, Ian. But let’s be honest. We’re in different leagues.”

Ian’s voice was cold, filled with contempt. “Different leagues?” He took a step forward, not backing down. “You think power makes you untouchable, but everyone falls eventually, Bucky. Even you. The difference is, when you fall, it’ll be a lot harder than it was for your brother.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You talk big for a man with no cards to play.”

Then, in a swift motion, Bucky snapped his fingers, calling the barista over. “You,” Bucky said, his gaze locking onto the young man behind the counter, “what did he offer you to get involved in this?”

The barista froze, wide-eyed and clearly caught off guard. His eyes flicked between Ian, who glared at him with barely restrained fury, and Bucky, whose calm voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“He—he knows I’m dealing drugs on campus,” the barista stammered, fear creeping into his voice. “I’m afraid if it gets out, I’ll be expelled from university.”

Bucky’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of distaste crossing his face. “Drugs, huh? That’s a big no in my book.” He paused, letting the tension build before adding, “But… what if I make sure no one ever hears about your little side job?”

The barista blinked in disbelief. “Really?”

Bucky nodded slowly, his tone almost fatherly. “As long as you do one thing for me—never let this man,” he gestured to Ian with a lazy flick of his hand, “step foot in this café again.”

“Done,” the barista replied quickly, relief flooding his face. “And, uh, you’ve got my vote too.”

Bucky smiled, shaking the young man’s hand. “Thank you.”

Turning back to Ian, Bucky’s smile turned into a smirk, the satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Did you see that? That’s the difference between us. You blackmail people. I make deals that last.”

Ian’s glare deepened, his voice trembling with anger. “Politicians and journalists have one thing in common: information. You manipulate it, just like you did with this poor kid. It’s no different from what I do.”

Bucky’s laugh was low and amused, as if Ian’s words barely registered. “Oh, there’s a difference.” His eyes gleamed with cold certainty. “I have power. And the information I gather ages like fine wine. It only gets more valuable with time.”

Ian took a step closer, his voice bitter. “Just like the way you’re using her.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as though Ian had made a naive remark. “That’s where you’re wrong, Ian.” He turned his back, walking toward the door without another glance. “This isn’t just about her, or you, or even my brother. This is bigger. But you’ll never see that.”

With that, Bucky exited the café, leaving Ian standing there, fists clenched, seething but helpless.

Outside, the air was crisp, and the low hum of the city wrapped around him like a blanket. Bucky strode to the car, his every step deliberate, his mind already shifting to the next move.

As he reached for the car door, he paused, surprised to see you waiting inside. He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “I thought you’d already left.”

You glanced at him, your expression unreadable. “I just finished talking to Tim. Told him not to meet with Ian again.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good.”

You leaned back in the seat, watching him carefully. “What did Ian say?”

Bucky slid into the car, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. He adjusted his cufflinks, his movements slow and meticulous. “He’s angry. Desperate. But that makes him predictable.”

You studied him for a moment, unsure whether to feel comforted or wary. “You really think he’ll just back down?”

Bucky turned to you, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “People like Ian don’t back down. But they also don’t win.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “He’s playing a dangerous game. But I have the upper hand. Always.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. "You're not afraid? Especially since he knows about our messy marriage."

Bucky leaned back in his seat, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I want to see him try."

"It'll affect the election," you pressed, your voice low but sharp. "Didn’t you say before that you're scared too, if it gets out?"

He paused for a moment, his gaze steady, then leaned forward, folding his hands on the table between you. "What I'm afraid of is how it'll affect you."

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected response, but he didn’t let you linger in the surprise for long. Bucky straightened his tie, that calm, calculating tone slipping back into place. "Come on," he continued, "nobody cares about the Vice President. Especially when Steve takes office. All eyes will be on him. I’ll be a shadow at best."

His nonchalance irritated you, but you could see the gears turning in his head, every word measured, every sentence layered with meaning. He wasn’t just dismissing Ian’s threat—he was planning around it, strategizing.

But you weren’t convinced. "And what happens when he digs too deep? When he finds something even you can't control?"

Bucky's smirk returned, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, dangerous edge. "Let him dig. The deeper he goes, the more he'll realize he's out of his league."

He got up, slipping his hands into his pockets, the image of absolute power and control. "This isn't a game of who's right, sweetheart. It's about who plays the board better."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day, Greg arrived early in the morning, pounding on the door without pause. The relentless knocking echoed through the quiet house, pulling you from your sleep.

You opened the door, eyes still heavy with sleep, and found Greg standing there, pale and wide-eyed, clutching a newspaper tightly in his hands.

"What's wrong?" you asked, a sinking feeling forming in your stomach.

Greg didn’t say a word, just handed you the newspaper. The bold headline hit you like a punch to the gut:

"SILENT DIVORCE SHOCKS PUBLIC: Y/N LEFT BLINDSIDED BY BARNES' LIES"

“Bucky!” you screamed his name, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Bucky, who was just finishing up in the bathroom, emerged with a calm demeanor, a towel draped over his shoulder. He glanced at you, then at Greg, his expression unreadable.

“What’s going on?” he asked, though he clearly already knew.

You pointed at the newspaper, your heart racing. “This... they know everything about the divorce. It’s out there!”

Bucky stepped closer, taking the newspaper from your hand and scanning the article with a level gaze. “I was expecting this,” he said matter-of-factly, unfazed by the revelation.

“Expecting it?” You felt a surge of frustration. “How can you be so calm? They’re painting you as the villain.”

He shrugged slightly, his posture relaxed. “This is Ian’s doing."

Greg shifted awkwardly, glancing between the two of you. “This could seriously damage your campaign, Bucky. We need a plan.”

Bucky nodded slowly, considering. “We turn this around. We don’t deny anything outright, but we frame the narrative. Make it about my commitment to you, how you’ve been resilient in the face of adversity.”

Then, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head, Bucky added, “Tell them she’s pregnant.”

You and Greg were dumbfounded, staring at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” you finally managed to ask, incredulity lacing your tone.

Bucky nodded, a small, confident grin spreading across his face. “Think about it. It shifts the narrative entirely. The public will sympathize with you, and it puts me in the role of the protective husband. We can spin this into a story of love and support.”

You shook your head, a sense of unease washing over you. “No, Bucky. I can’t go along with that. I won’t lie about something like that. It’s unethical, and what if they find out?”

“Then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” he replied, his voice steady. “Right now, we need to act fast. We can’t let Ian control this narrative any longer.”

Greg looked between the two of you, uncertain. “This is a huge gamble, Bucky. Are you sure you want to push this?”

Bucky waved a hand dismissively. “This is politics, Greg. It’s about perception. If we can manipulate the story in our favor, then we do it.”

“But it’s still a lie,” you insisted, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. “I can’t just pretend to be pregnant for your campaign. It’s wrong.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly, irritation flickering across his face. “It’s not wrong if it serves a purpose. This is about protecting your future, our future. We can’t let Ian tear us down.”

“By lying?” you shot back, frustration mounting. “That’s not how I want to do things, Bucky.”

He sighed, clearly growing impatient. “Tell them she’s pregnant, Greg. We need to control this narrative. The longer we wait, the more damage Ian can do.”

Greg hesitated, glancing at you for guidance. “Are you sure about this, Y/N? Because once we go down this road, there’s no turning back.”

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on Greg, unyielding. “Just do it. I’ll handle the fallout.”

You felt a wave of dread wash over you. Bucky’s resolve was intimidating, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a path you weren’t willing to take.

“Survival only for you. Not for me,” you shot back, your voice steady but the tension in your shoulders betraying your inner turmoil.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I see you keep changing your mind. Didn’t you forget you wanted us to win?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he reveled in the challenge of bending your resolve.

You felt a whirlwind of thoughts crashing through your mind, the weight of his words pressing down on you. You had dreamed of victory, of standing beside him in triumph, yet this wasn’t the way you envisioned it. The idea of lying about a pregnancy felt like a betrayal, not just to yourself but to everything you believed in.

“Welcome to the game of politics, babe,” Bucky said, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge, leaning back in his chair as if this were all a mere chess match to him.

His nonchalance only fueled the fire inside you, and you clenched your jaw, unwilling to let him see how deeply his words affected you. “This isn’t a game, Bucky,” you replied, your voice firm, trying to assert your stance amidst the chaos swirling around you.

He shrugged, an air of indifference surrounding him. “To me, it is. And you’d do well to remember that.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he had already won this round, leaving you questioning whether you were truly ready to play his game.

“What, are you still calm? Don’t you worry this will affect Steve?” you asked, your voice laced with incredulity.

He chuckled softly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I love your innocence in this.”

You felt bewildered, the confusion evident in your furrowed brow. “What do you mean?”

“Seems like Steve hides his skeletons better than I do. Even you, a journalist, didn’t know,” Bucky replied, his tone casual but with an underlying intensity.

“What?” you pressed, leaning in closer, eager for clarity.

Bucky leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, a confident smirk playing on his lips. “The other reason why Steve chose me is to distract everyone from him. That’s our deal.”

You blinked, grappling with the implications of his words, feeling the weight of the political game you were both entrenched in.

You swallowed hard, the realization settling heavily in your stomach. He’s right. This is all a game. Every move, every conversation, calculated like chess pieces on a board.

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midastouch013 · 8 months ago

Text

"Find Me Attractive Again"

Based on this request

Summary: You had a wonderful girlfriend, and so what happens when you discover she has an eating disorder

Warnings: Eating disorder, Hurt Nat, Sad Nat, Neglecting Y/n. Panic Attacks. Purging, throwing up. Major hurt/comfort, from both sides.

P.S I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, so I apologise. I also took my own spin on it since it was kind vague, so I hope you like it'.

P.S.S And also, after such heavy fics, I'd really like for someone to drop me a fluffy one, Not just Nat, any Marvel woman please.

-----------

It was a typical summer day in New York City when your paths first crossed. You, wrapped up in the chaos of your medical residency, were rushing through the streets, white coat flapping behind you like a superhero’s cape, while Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, was navigating the crowds with the ease of someone who had seen it all.

It was at a street corner where fate decided to intervene, in the form of an iced coffee and a collision. Natasha, in her sleek elegance, accidentally bumped into you, sending her cold drink cascading down your front.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was a mix of genuine contrition and a hint of amusement.

You blinked, the cold seeping through your shirt, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “Well, at least it’s a hot day,” you replied, trying to brush off the mess.

Natasha quickly handed you some napkins, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're a humour one I see"

"That I am" you grinned "I've also cost you your coffee"

Natasha went to open her mouth, but you spoke instead.

“Let me make it up to you. Can I buy you another drink?”

"But I'm the one who spilt mine on you?" her eyebrow raised as she questioned.

"And?"

"I should be the one buying for you?"

You're smile didn't falter " Where's the chivalry in that?"

And that was the start of it all. What began as a clumsy encounter turned into a friendship neither of you expected. Natasha’s charm, mixed with her trademark snark, drew you in like a moth to a flame. Soon, the two of you were spending your precious free time together, swapping stories over drinks or taking long walks through the city.

Despite her guarded nature, Natasha opened up to you in ways she hadn’t with anyone else. You became her confidante, her sanctuary in a world filled with chaos and danger. And in turn, you found solace in her presence, a respite from the relentless demands of your residency.

As your friendship deepened, so did your feelings for her. You found yourself falling for the enigmatic Avenger, captivated by her strength, her wit, and the vulnerability she only showed to you. And one day, gathering every ounce of courage you had, you asked her out on a date.

To your delight, Natasha said yes, her smile lighting up the room in a way you had never seen before. And just like that, your friendship blossomed into something more, a new chapter in both of your lives.

Now, as you walked hand in hand through the bustling streets of New York, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. With Natasha by your side, you felt invincible, ready to take on whatever challenges life threw your way.

Little did you know, however, that behind the redhead’s confident facade lay a secret she was desperate to keep hidden. An invisible battle she fought every day, one that threatened to consume her from within.

And so, all it would take for you to find out, as a plate of untouched food, and certain other stuff

---

The elevator door opened with a ding, admitting you into the familiar warmth of your shared home (Floor in the compound that Tony had so happily given) with Natasha. The faint scent of breakfast lingered in the air, a reminder of the meal you had meticulously prepared before your short 12-hour shift at the hospital.

But as you stepped further into the living space, your brow furrowed in confusion. The plate of food you had set out for Natasha sat untouched on the dining table, a solitary fork resting against the edge.

"Nat?" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet apartment. There was no response, just the eerie stillness of an empty room.

Concern gnawed at the edges of your mind as you ventured further into the living space, scanning every corner for any sign of your elusive girlfriend. But Natasha was nowhere to be found.

However, before you could think what to do next, the sound of retching echoed through the apartment, sending a shiver of dread down your spine. Without a moment's hesitation, you bolted towards the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you flung open the door, the sight that greeted you was enough to make your stomach churn. There stood Natasha, hunched over the toilet, her face contorted in agony as she forced herself to purge.

Instinct took over as you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from her mouth. "Nat, stop," you urged, your voice laced with urgency and concern.

For a moment, she resisted, the muscles in her arm tense with the effort of her struggle. But slowly, reluctantly, she relented, allowing you to pry her fingers away from their self-destructive task.

The sight of her trembling form, tears glistening in her eyes, tore at your heartstrings like nothing else. You wanted to wrap her in your arms, to shield her from the demons that haunted her, but you knew that this was a battle she had to fight on her own terms.

Gently, you guided her away from the toilet, leading her to the sink where you wet a washcloth and pressed it against her clammy forehead. "It's okay, Nat," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within her.

As you helped Natasha up from the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, her silence weighed heavily in the air, a palpable barrier between you. You guided her to the bed, her movements sluggish and unsteady, and gently urged her to sit down while you prepared a bath.

With practiced efficiency, you filled the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender oil to help soothe her frazzled nerves. But as you turned to help Natasha undress, you noticed the way she recoiled from your touch, her body tensing at the slightest contact.

Your heart ached at the sight, a pang of sadness settling in the pit of your stomach. You had always prided yourself on being there for Natasha, on offering her the unwavering support and love she so desperately needed. But now, faced with her silent withdrawal, you felt utterly helpless, like a bystander watching helplessly as a storm raged on the horizon.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back, giving Natasha the space she seemed to need. You watched in silence as she rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, before making her way to the bathroom.

It was only then that you noticed the small click of the lock as she closed the door behind her, a barrier sealing her off from the outside world. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the walls Natasha had built around herself, walls that even you, with all your love and devotion, could not penetrate.

For a moment, you stood there in the empty room, the weight of Natasha's silence bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But then, with a resolute shake of your head, you pushed aside your own doubts and fears, determined to stand by her side no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way to the bathroom door, your hand poised to knock. But at the last moment, you hesitated, the sound of running water and Natasha's soft sobs echoing through the wood.

But when the sound of retching pierced through the closed bathroom door, a surge of panic shot through you like a bolt of lightning. Without a second thought, you abandoned your plans to change and rushed back to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

With a swift motion, you twisted the doorknob, but to your dismay, it refused to budge. Locked. The realization sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through your veins, igniting a primal instinct to protect Natasha at all costs.

"Nat, open the door!" you called out, your voice tinged with desperation. But there was no response, just the sickening sound of her struggle echoing through the small space.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled determination, you threw your weight against the door, the wood groaning in protest as it gave way beneath your force. For a moment, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of motion and sound, until finally, the door swung open with a resounding crash.

And there she was, hunched over the toilet once more, her body wracked with violent spasms as she forced herself to purge. Without hesitation, you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from their self-destructive task.

"Nat, please stop," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. But this time, there was no resistance, no struggle against your touch. Instead, Natasha collapsed against you, her tears mingling with the cool touch of your skin.

With a sense of resolve, you refused to leave Natasha alone in the bathroom this time. Instead, you stayed by her side, offering silent support as she struggled with the demons that haunted her.

As the water continued to run, filling the tub with warm, comforting steam, you gently guided Natasha towards it. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes cast downwards, before finally sinking into the water with a heavy sigh.

You stood by the tub, your presence a silent reassurance as Natasha submerged herself beneath the surface, her shoulders tense with the weight of her burdens. With a soft exhale, you reached for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your palm before lathering it into her hair with gentle, soothing strokes.

"I won't look," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

Natasha remained silent, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the bathroom. But you could sense the tension in her body, the invisible barriers she had erected to keep you at arm's length.

Undeterred, you continued to wash her hair, your fingers working through the tangles with practiced precision. With each stroke, you hoped to chip away at the walls she had built around herself, to offer her a glimpse of the love and acceptance that lay waiting on the other side.

But despite your best efforts, Natasha remained distant, her silence a heavy weight in the air between you. It was as if she had retreated into herself, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts and fears.

With a heavy heart, you finished washing her hair, rinsing away the suds with gentle care. Then, reaching for the washcloth, you began to bathe her body, moving with slow, deliberate motions as you washed away the stains of the outside world.

Gently, you lifted Natasha from the bathtub, her body feeling almost weightless in your arms. The sight of her frail form, bones protruding beneath the thin veil of her skin, sent a shiver of concern down your spine. It was a stark reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her body, a silent battle she fought day in and day out.

With tender care, you carried her back to the bed, laying her down with the utmost gentleness. You tucked the blankets around her, the soft fabric a comforting cocoon against the cold reality of her struggles.

As Natasha lay there, her eyes distant and unfocused, you made your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts of how to help her. You knew that she needed nourishment, both for her body and her soul, but convincing her to eat was a battle in itself.

With a determined resolve, you rummaged through the pantry, searching for something light and easy to stomach. Finally, you settled on a plate of sliced fruit, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the darkness that threatened to consume Natasha from within.

Returning to the bedroom, you found Natasha still lying there, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. Carefully, you placed the plate of fruit on the bedside table, hoping that the sight of it would stir something within her.

"Nat," you said softly, your voice a gentle reminder of your presence. "I brought you a snack. It's just some fruit. Would you like some?"

For a moment, there was no response, just the steady rise and fall of Natasha's chest as she breathed in and out. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she reached out a trembling hand, fingers curling around a slice of apple.

You held your breath, watching intently as Natasha brought the fruit to her lips, her movements hesitant and uncertain. But then, with a small nod of encouragement from you, she took a tentative bite, the sweetness of the apple filling the air between you.

A sense of relief washed over you as you watched Natasha eat, each bite a small victory in the battle against her eating disorder.

As Natasha slowly nibbled on the fruit, you settled beside her on the bed, the familiar weight of her body a comforting anchor in the storm of uncertainty. With a soft click of the remote, you turned on the television, the familiar theme song of F.R.I.E.N.D.S filling the room with its nostalgic melody.

You glanced over at Natasha, her gaze fixed on the screen, her lips curved ever so slightly in the beginnings of a smile. It was a small victory, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a tender smile of your own, you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against your side. The warmth of her body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of her breath a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night.

Together, you watched as the familiar antics of Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe unfolded on the screen before you. The laughter of the characters, the camaraderie of their friendships, served as a reminder of the bonds that held you and Natasha together, even in the darkest of times.

And as the episode came to an end, you turned to Natasha, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips. "Feeling a little better?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle caress against the silence of the room.

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. But then, with a small nod of her head, she leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours.

It was a small victory, a flicker of hope in the midst of despair. But for now, in this moment of quiet intimacy, it was enough. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way. As you snuggled into Natasha, the fragile contours of her body pressed against yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With each delicate curve of her form, you could feel the sharp edges of her bones, a painful reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you held her close, the weight of her fragility pressing down on you like a leaden weight. "Why, Nat?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of Natasha's unspoken pain hanging heavy in the air between you. But then, as your grip tightened around her, almost as if you were clinging to her for dear life, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I..." she began, her words faltering as if caught in the tangled web of her thoughts. But then, with a small shake of her head, she fell silent once more, the words hanging between you like an unspoken promise.

As you thought Natasha had drifted off to sleep, you reached for your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating the dimly lit room. With a deep breath, you dialed the number for the hospital, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to make a decision that would change everything.

"Hello, this is Dr. Y/l/n," you began, your voice steady despite the nerves that churned in the pit of your stomach. "I need to take the next month off."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a hesitant voice. "Dr. Y/l/n, are you sure? We're short-staffed as it is, and your patients—"

"I'm sure," you interrupted, your tone firm and unwavering. "I've already made up my mind."

The person on the other end of the line hesitated, clearly taken aback by your sudden decision. "But Dr. Y/l/n you're one of our top surgeons. We can't afford to lose you—"

"I understand that," you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. "But right now, I need to take care of someone who needs me more than anyone else."

There was a moment of silence as the gravity of your words hung heavy in the air between you. And then, with a resigned sigh, the person on the other end of the line relented, agreeing to grant you the time off on the condition that you'd go unpaid for the month.

As you ended the call, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You knew that taking time off from the hospital was a risk, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was being there for Natasha when she needed you most.

But as you turned to check on her, you realized that she had been awake the whole time, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Natasha's voice cut through the silence of the room, her words heavy with emotion. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You met her gaze, the weight of her question hanging heavy in the air between you. Taking a deep breath, you reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering against her cheek.

"Because you needed me," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because I love you, Natasha, and I would do anything for you."

Tears welled in Natasha's eyes as she listened to your words, her expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. "For everything."

As Natasha's words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft hum of the room's ventilation system. You could see the turmoil swirling behind her eyes, the weight of her burdens threatening to crush her beneath their weight.

"Why did you do that, Natasha?" you asked gently, your voice laced with concern. "Why do you hurt yourself like this?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting away from yours as she searched for the words to explain the unexplainable. "It's… it's complicated," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Try me," you urged, your tone soft and understanding. "I want to understand, Natasha. I want to help you."

With a heavy sigh, Natasha began to speak, her words halting and uncertain at first, but gaining strength with each passing moment. "It's not just me," she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's… it's the comments, the stares, the whispers behind my back."

Your heart ached as you listened to her words, the pain and anguish etched into every syllable. You knew all too well the harsh realities of the world Natasha inhabited, the constant scrutiny and judgment that followed her wherever she went.

"It's like… like I'm never good enough," Natasha continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I achieve, it's never enough. And the news, they… they only make it worse."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you watched Natasha unravel before you, the weight of her suffering a burden too heavy for her to bear alone. In that moment, you felt a surge of anger rise up within you, a burning indignation at the injustices Natasha had endured.

"And..." She trailed off

"And?" You pulled her into your arms, holding her close as if to show that you were there for her. You could feel the ache in her voice, the raw vulnerability laid bare before you.

"I just... You," Natasha began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "You used to look at me with such... such longing. You'd initiate everything, your touch, your kisses... But lately, it's like you don't even see me anymore."

Your heart clenched at her words, unsure of what to do or say.

"I thought... I thought maybe it was because of how I looked," Natasha continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I worked out more, if I stopped eating, if I... if I purged, maybe you'd find me attractive again."

Your breath caught in your throat at her confession, the pain of her self-inflicted suffering tearing at your heartstrings. How could she think such a thing? How could she believe that her worth was tied to her appearance?

But you remained silent, allowing Natasha to speak, to purge the demons that haunted her soul. For in that moment, you realized that the only way to help her heal was to listen, to truly listen, without judgment or condemnation.

"I just wanted to be enough for you," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "But I was so wrong, wasn't I? I was so wrong."

And as she buried her face in her hands, her words seemed to sink in, making you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling away, leaving you adrift in a sea of guilt and self-loathing.

Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself away from Natasha, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You stumbled backward, your eyes wide with shock as you realized the role you had played in her pain.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own ragged breaths. " I did that"

Natasha's eyes widened in concern as she watched you retreat, her voice tinged with fear. "Y/n? Are you okay?"

But you couldn't answer, couldn't bring yourself to face her, not when the guilt threatened to suffocate you. You hated yourself in that moment, hated the way you had let work consume you, the way you had neglected the person you loved most in the world.

And then it hit you, a wave of overwhelming emotion crashing over you like a tsunami. You sank to the floor, your body racked with sobs as the weight of your own self-loathing bore down on you like a heavy burden.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the darkness, her words lost amidst the chaos of your own thoughts. But you could feel her presence beside you, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort and support.

But you couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the thought of her touching you, not when you were the reason she was in pain. So you pushed her away, stumbling to your feet and retreating further into the shadows.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely audible above the storm of your own despair. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to… I didn't know…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the words tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, each repetition a desperate plea for forgiveness. But the only one you blamed was yourself, your own self-loathing swallowing you whole.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the chaos of your mind, her words lost in the tumult of your own despair. But you could feel her presence beside you, a steady anchor in the storm.

But even as she reached out to comfort you, you recoiled from her touch, the weight of your guilt too heavy to bear. You felt betrayed by yourself, , the person who had allowed this to happen.

"I'm sorry," you choked out once more, your voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to…"

But the words fell flat, empty and hollow in the face of your own self-condemnation. And as you sank further into the darkness, the weight of your own despair threatening to consume you, you knew that there was no escape from the demons that haunted you.

"Y/n, listen to me," Natasha's voice was firm, cutting through the haze of panic that clouded your mind. "You need to breathe. Deep breaths, okay?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of your racing heart.

"That's it," she encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "Inhale... and exhale. You're okay, I've got you."

You focused on her words, on the steady rhythm of her breathing, allowing them to anchor you in the present moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/n," Natasha continued, her grip on your hand reassuringly firm. "I'm right here with you, and I'm not letting you go."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you clung to her, the weight of your own self-loathing threatening to crush you beneath its suffocating embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Natasha," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I didn't-"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle finger against your lips, her eyes soft with understanding. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured.

With trembling hands, you grasped Natasha's palms in yours, feeling the warmth of her touch seeping into your skin like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Without a word, you pulled her into a tight embrace, needing to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your chest.

"I love you, Tasha," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pressed kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, each touch a silent testament to the depth of your love for her.

"I'm sorry for everything," you murmured between kisses, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for making you feel unloved, for neglecting you when you needed me most. I promise, I'll do better. I'll be better for you, for us."

Natasha's arms tightened around you, her own tears mingling with yours as she buried her face against your chest. "I love you too, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And I forgive you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

---

Over the next few days, you devoted yourself wholeheartedly to supporting Natasha, determined to make amends for your past neglect. You woke up early to prepare nutritious meals for her, ensuring that she had the sustenance she needed to fuel her body and soul.

You gently guided her through each day, offering words of encouragement and reassurance whenever she needed them. You deleted all the news apps from her phone, shielding her from the harsh judgments and scrutiny of the outside world.

And when you learned of the agents who had dared to badmouth Natasha, you wasted no time in tracking them down and giving them a piece of your mind. With a fiery determination burning in your eyes, you confronted them head-on, refusing to let them tarnish Natasha's reputation any further.

"You have no idea what she's been through," you spat, your voice laced with righteous anger. "She's one of the strongest, most resilient people I know, and she deserves nothing but respect."

The agents cowered before you, their faces pale with guilt and shame. And as you walked away, leaving them to ponder the consequences of their actions, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you.

Every time you sensed Natasha spiraling, you were there, a steady anchor in her stormy sea. You showered her with kisses, peppering her face with affectionate gestures, a silent reminder of the love that enveloped her. Your touch was a constant presence, your fingers entwined with hers or softly tracing patterns on her skin, a tangible reassurance that you were there for her, always.

You made sure she had everything she needed, anticipating her wants before she even voiced them. Whether it was a warm meal or a comforting hug, you were always one step ahead, ready to offer her solace in her moments of need.

But even as you tended to her, Natasha noticed the turmoil brewing beneath your surface. Despite your smiles and jokes, she saw the shadows lurking in your eyes, the weight of your own struggles weighing heavily on your shoulders. And though you tried to hide it, she knew that your sleepless nights were spent wrestling with demons of your own.

---

As the time came for you to return to work after a month of devoted care for Natasha, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The thought of leaving her alone, vulnerable to the demons that had haunted her in the past, filled you with a gnawing anxiety.

You found yourself making up excuses, delaying your departure in a futile attempt to hold onto the precious moments you had shared together. But Natasha saw through your facade, her eyes searching yours for the truth that you were desperate to hide.

"Y/n, what's going on?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been acting strange lately, avoiding going back to work, making excuses to stay. Is something wrong?"

Your heart constricted at the concern in her voice, the weight of your own fears threatening to suffocate you. But you couldn't bring yourself to voice the truth, to admit to the depths of your own insecurities.

"I… I just don't want to leave you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid that if I go back to work, things will go back to how they were before. I'm afraid of losing you Tasha."

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke, the vulnerability of your confession laying bare the depths of your fear. But Natasha's response was immediate, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace, her warmth a comforting balm against the storm raging within you.

"Y/n, listen to me," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. We've been through hell and back together, and I'm not about to let anything tear us apart."

With a heavy heart and a sense of resolve, you made the difficult decision to resign from your position, knowing that your place was by Natasha's side. As you prepared to leave, a fierce determination burned within you to make the most of the time you had left together.

With a hunger born of love and longing, you pulled Natasha into your arms, your lips seeking hers in a passionate kiss.

An so as you hold Natasha close, your heart overflowing with love and devotion, you feel the need to express the depths of your feelings to her.

"Nat," you begin, your voice soft and tender, "I need you to understand something. I love you more than words can express, more than I ever thought possible."

You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin against your lips before continuing.

"I love you for who you are, not for your past or your appearance. Every part of you, every scar, every imperfection, it's all part of what makes you so incredibly beautiful to me."

Your fingers trace the contours of her face, your touch reverent and adoring.

"And I want you to know that my love for you will never waver. No matter what challenges we face, no matter what obstacles come our way, I will always be by your side, loving you with every beat of my heart."

Tears shimmer in Natasha's eyes as she listens to your words, her own heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/n," she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "More than you'll ever know."

---------

#avengers #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #anon ask #anonymous #natalia alianovna romanova #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff hurt/comfort #natasha x y/n #natalia romanova #eating disoder recovery

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c-cobweb · 6 months ago

Text

𝓑e a freak like me too ⋮ jimmy darling

ᡣ𐭩 . warnings ᯓ +18 mdni!, smut, pwp, fem!virgin!reader, make out, age gap (not specified but everyone is over 18), fingering. a/n ᯓ english is not my first lenguage!

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Your life was monotonous and boring, with strict parents who only let you leave the house for college things and no little siblings to play with. Everything was like that until one day the circus of monstrosites arrived in the city, and your father decided to take you and your mother to see what show they could offer.

Excited, you dressed in a beautiful white dress with pink flowers that they gave you for your 18th birthday, you subtly made up with a pink eye shadow and a gloss on your lips, you were ready to go out.

. . .

You got out of your father’s car and looked around, both excited and scared of what could happen there.

“Come on, honey, or we’ll be late,” your mother warned you while she and your father were starting to walk towards the circus.

You ran after them until you reached them and got by their side. Once inside the circus you were amazed, everything was full of colours and lights, the typical circus music sounded in the background while children rode the attractions, you were fascinated.

You approached the entrance of the tent of the show, your father paid for the tickets and you sat in the front row to be able to see the spawns up close.

. . .

The show was halfway through and everything was spectacular, you were delighted with those people with deformities. Everything was going perfectly until Jimmy Darling, the lobster boy, appeared on stage.

You were damned with his beauty, so much so that you overlooked the deformity of his hands. He began his monologue as usual and at one point you clashed looks, making him wink and make you blush, you just wish your parents hadn’t realised.

. . .

At the end of the performance everyone got up from the seat and left the tent, including you and your family. You escaped for a moment saying that you would go to the bathroom to actually go in search of that handsome boy who had darned you with his charms.

After a couple of minutes looking for him, you found him about to enter his caravan and accelerated the pace until you reached him.

“Mr. Darling?” You said once you were behind him, touching his shoulder to get his attention. He turned confused about who was calling him until he saw you and smiled.

“Oh, you, you’re the girl in the front row, right? What’s your name?” He said and you nodded your head, telling him your name.

“I just wanted to tell you that I loved your show, it was wonderful” you smiled cheerfully as you put your hands behind your back.

“You’re such a sweetheart. No girl had come before after a performance to congratulate me,” he replied winking at you once again, making you blush and look the other way briefly.

“Well, just... just wanted to tell you that. I’m leaving now” you said goodbye with your hand and turned around to go back to your parents.

“Wait!” You heard Jimmy’s voice behind you and turned your head to look at him “Is it okay if we see each other someday?”

You were very excited when he asked you that, you were excited to be able to spend more time with him.

“Of course yes,” you replied with a wide smile.

“Perfect, is it okay if we meet in the ‘Coffee and Jhons’ cafeteria? It’s a good place to see each other” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

In your head you were already making a plan to be able to leave the house without your parents knowing that you were going to see a boy, much less could they know that that boy was a spawn.

“Okay, I’ll see you there tomorrow at 12 am?” You said this time with a small smile.

. . .

You had deceived your parents by saying that you were going to your friend Alice’s house to study when you were actually about to reach your meeting point with Jimmy.

Your stomach was full of butterflies, you had never lied to your parents before, much less to go see a boy. But it wasn’t just any boy, it was Jimmy Darling.

You entered the cafeteria and looked around you until you found Jimmy sitting on one of the stools at the bar, waiting for you. You approached him from behind and touched his shoulder making him turn around.

“Hello Jimmy” You greeted with a small smile, you were very nervous.

“Hi darling” He said grabbing your hand and leaving a kiss on it, to which in response your cheeks were coloured.

When he saw how you blushed, Jimmy smiled from ear to ear making his cheekbones stand out. You sat on the stool next to him and asked for a cherry coke to drink and a cupcake, while he asked for a beer.

You immediately realised the leather gloves that covered his hands, and you frowned confused. “Why are you wearing those gloves?” You asked delicately, without wanting to offend him.

“Well, as you know, I have lobster hands and many people could be scared to see them,” he replied while still smiling.

You took one of his hands and stroked it over the glove. “I’m not scared of your hands” you said as you looked him in the eyes with a soft smile, which warmed his heart.

. . .

It had already been several weeks since your secret meeting with Jimmy, and you did not stop running away from home to go see him at any time. This time he had rented a motel room just for the two of you. Were you nervous? Yes, and a lot.

You stalled through the window of your room and ran down the street where Jimmy was waiting for you with his motorcycle.

“Hello, darling,” he said when you rode behind him on the motorcycle and grabbed his waist so you didn’t fall. “Ready to go?”

The road to the motel was quiet, it was night so there were not many people on the street and you could enjoy a small walk before reaching your destination.

You entered the reception of the motel and Jimmy asked for the key to your room and then go to the elevator to go to your room.

“You look beautiful today, more than usual” He said while the elevator doors closed.

“Thank you very much,” you answered with a smile while blushing, his flirtatious comments always made you blush.

He approached you and placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist, curiously today he was not wearing his leather gloves. “Can I kiss you?” He asked in a whisper as he brought his face closer to yours, to which you nodded.

He kissed your lips gently, he knew it was your first kiss and didn’t want to scare you. You corresponded to the kiss, nervous but excited.

The elevator doors opened, this time leaving you on the floor of your room. Jimmy slowly separated from you, “Come on” said as he grabbed your hand and guided you to the room.

Once inside the room he closed the door and kissed you again, but this time with more passion. You opened your eyes surprised at his action, you didn’t expect such a hungry kiss after that sweet kiss he had given you minutes ago.

He guide you to the bed, making you both sit on it while you were still kissing. You followed the kiss shyly until you gained more confidence, that’s when Jimmy licked your lower lip to ask for permission and be able to put his tongue in your vocal cavity, which you agreed to.

Your tongues were dancing inside your mouths in a heated and exciting kiss. Jimmy grabbed your shoulders and gently pushed you until your back collided with the bed mattress, leaving you lying down.

His large fused hands walked through your body being careful not to touch any inappropriate place until it reached your waist, stopping there and separating slightly from the kiss. “Is everything okay?” He asked looking into your eyes to make sure you were comfortable.

“Yes Jimmy, I’m great” You confirmed with a smile as you rested one of your hands on his cheek and raised your head to kiss him again.

He reciprocated the kiss gladly and his hands moved around your body again, this time leaving them right on your thighs and putting them a little under your dress. His thumbs drew small figures on your inner thighs while his hands moved very slowly — so as not to alarm you — towards your centre.

When the tips of his fingers grazed your underwear you shuddered and separated from the kiss, looking at Jimmy a little scared.

“Shh, don’t worry, darling” He tried to reassure you as he lowered his kisses to your neck and hid his face there. “Can I?” He asked as he wrapped his fingers in the strip of your panties, to which you nodded.

He slowly lowered the garment down your legs, caressing them in the process. “Tell me, honey, have you ever touched yourself down there?” He asked by taking his face out of your neck to look into your eyes with a smile on his face.

“Yes, but only a couple of times” You replied embarrassed as you looked away from him, to which Jimmy laughed.

“It’s fine. Does it bother you if I touch you?” You bit your lower lip repressing a smile at how understanding and respectful he was.

“Yes, please touch me” You begged slightly as you looked at him again with big and bright eyes.

Jimmy did not hesitate to start caressing your clit with two of his fused fingers to prepare you, to which you covered your mouth with both hands to repress the sounds that threatened to come out of your throat.

“Oh, pretty girl, let those beautiful sounds come out, I want to hear you moan” He said without any qualms making you blush, but you listened to him and took your hands away from your face.

His fingers went from caressing your clit to surrounding your entrance, which made you let out a little gasp. “Jimmy...” you whispered as your breathing agitated.

“Are you ready?” He asked leaving a small kiss on your cheek, you nodded and he began to put his fused fingers through your entrance very delicately so as not to hurt you.

You closed your eyes and hissed slightly while your fists clung to the sheets. At first it hurt a little but then the pain was replaced by pleasure little by little.

Your back bent over and moans and more prominent sighs began to come out of your mouth, your hands clung to Jimmy’s biceps while your face contoured with pleasure. Jimmy looked at your face with a big smile, proud of himself for causing you so much pleasure with just his fingers.

His wide fingers caused you an indescribable pleasure, they widened your vaginal walls deliciously. You couldn’t stop moaning loudly, and you were surprised when his thumb began to caress your clit again.

“Jimmy... I- I think I’m going to come” That phrase made him smile even more, and he began to speed up his movements.

“I know honey, I can feel it,” he said as he began to kiss your jaw and leave a path of kisses up to your neck. “You just let yourself go, let it go”

It didn’t take you much longer to finish, moaning his name loudly and closing your eyes tightly. Jimmy laughs slightly when he took his fingers out of your intimacy and saw how wet they were, and then put them in his mouth and savour your juices.

“Jimmy! Don’t do that...” You said covering your face with both hands because of the shame.

“Why wouldn’t I do it? You are delicious” He let out a little laugh at your reaction and then lay down next to you, passing an arm behind your shoulders and curling up with you. “Now let’s rest for a while, it’s been a very trying moment... but don’t think I’m done with you” He said the latter giving you a small spanking.

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mlist , bots

#american horror story #evan peters #evan peters smut #jimmy darling #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evan peters x female reader #freak show #ahs freakshow #jimmy darling smut

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year ago

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Studious VI (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+ FINALE

Five months after your reconciliation, you and Aemond have grown ever closer. When he returns from his first time away from you, you have a surprise ready for him.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: kissing, oral sex (M and F receiving), p in v sex, fluff

Author's Note: And with this, the series is complete! I want to thank you all so much for all the support y'all have given my silly little story. I truly cherish every reply, comment, or like it receives.

And fear not! This isn't the end of the journey for our lovely, stupid couple. On the 21st, I will be releasing another short fic as part of my 12 Days of Smuff event. If there will be anything more beyond that, it remains to be seen!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here - Read Part V Here

My Masterlist

Taglist is in reblogs

Studious VI

It was the middle of the afternoon, and though the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, there was still a chill in the air. You had uncovered all the windows in the room, so it was quite cold within the stone walls. Therefore, you were curled up on a large, plush chair – Aemond’s reading chair – contentedly snuggled within your oversized robe.

And only the robe.

Vhagar’s mighty wingbeats had thundered above the keep not long ago. Thanks to the open windows, you’d heard it clearly – the chill was well worth it. A rush of excitement flowed through you, and you immediately traded your warm dress and stockings for the robe and took up your perch.

Aemond had been gone for four long, lonely, torturous days, and you were determined to be there the moment he walked through the door to his chambers.

It was the first time he’d left King’s Landing since your wedding five months ago and the first time the two of you had been apart for more than a few hours since your ‘reconciliation,’ as you had come to call it. Both of you argued passionately against it.

Neither of you could bear to be parted only two weeks after Grand Maester Orwyle confirmed that your nightly activities had resulted in the child now growing within you. Aemond wanted nothing more than to be by your side every moment until the babe was born. You weren’t opposed to it, though you did wonder about the practicality of such an arrangement.

But the Queen and the Hand insisted on Aemond going, rather than one of his siblings. The unfortunate result of his being the dutiful and trustworthy son, you supposed.

So, you had gone with him to the edge of the woods and watched as he mounted Vhagar and flew away. Of course, he had kissed you deeply before he left. Long enough for both Vhagar and the Dragonkeepers to begin subtly voicing their impatience. Had they not been there, you likely would have shared a more thorough goodbye.

Still, the four days felt like four years, four decades, four centuries. You would have gone mad if you hadn’t found something to do to fill the Aemond-shaped hole in your life. So you filled your time with planning how you would welcome him home.

You were sure he would be very pleasantly surprised.

Time passed quickly while you were held in suspense. The sound of soft, steady footsteps soon began echoing from the hall, and you just barely contained a squeal of delight. You readied yourself to leap, standing atop the chair to give you a better chance of actually landing on your target.

Then the door opened, and you pounced.

Thankfully, Aemond caught you easily. His strong, lithe arms wrapped around your hips and rear as if on instinct, and you were once more safe and secure.

You didn’t get to see his reaction to your leaping upon him, which you only regretted slightly as you pressed your lips hard against his

Aemond made a choked sound of surprise that soon faded into a low, passionate moan as he teased your lips open with his tongue to deepen the kiss. It still wasn’t your favourite sensation – a taste you had to acquire – but after days without it, it was almost enjoyable. Almost.

“I missed you so much, Aemond,” you whispered between kisses, strained and desperate as your fingers clawed at him, seeking to touch every inch of him. Every inch you had missed.

Aemond’s brow furrowed, but he did not stop kissing you. “I was only away four days, my love. Could you miss me so much in so short a time?”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eye as you touched the tip of your nose to his, widening your eyes and making a show of pouting. “Did you not miss me as well?”

He gave you the slightest glimpse of his startled fish face before kissing you again. “No… I longed for you every minute we were parted. It took all my strength to resist the temptation of forgoing my duty and returning to you. I missed you so much I ached.”

“Show me,” you commanded, smiling against his lips as you watched the realisation that you had never doubted his missing you dawn on his face with an affectionate, put-upon smile.

You squealed as he pulled you closer to his chest – you had not thought such a thing possible – and brought the hand that had circled your waist to cup your neck as he began kissing you again. Fiercely. Passionately. Lovingly.

The rooms were a blur as he began to blindly carry you into the bedroom, depositing you squarely in the middle of the bed. You were granted only a moment to catch your breath before he was on you again, his welcome weight pressing down on you as his heat continued to soak into your bones.

“If you were wearing anything else,” Aemond growled as his hands started furiously fumbling with the tie of your robe, “I would tear it to pieces.”

You bit down on his bottom lip, ever so slightly harder than you normally did to scold him. It did not work. It only prompted him to kiss you deeper.

“Were you ever to tear even a single thread of this robe,” you panted. “I would return to my father’s keep and never speak to you again.”

“Then I will be very careful, and…” Aemond trailed off when he opened your robe and realised you were bare beneath it.

His eye raked over you slowly, studying you as if you were a master artwork. His chest heaving, he slowly traced his hand from the base of your throat down to your navel, and when you shivered at the sensation, he shivered too.

He splayed his hand over your still-flat stomach, his eye sparkling as if he could see the babe within. “How is it possible that you become more beautiful every day?”

You laughed, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your hand. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Aemond. And I dare say that your eye is quite biased towards me.”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Your beauty is utterly indisputable. Any who behold you and do not see it must be truly blind.”

You could not suppress the smile that came over you, wide and unyielding. “I will remind you of those words when I have grown as large as a bear and have the temper of a taunted goose.”

Aemond chuckled lowly, moving his mouth along your jaw and onto your neck. “Then I will say them again, for nothing could alter how I feel about you, my love.”

Any smart reply you had was quickly forgotten as his mouth followed the path his hand had just taken. Your only complaint was that his mouth was far slower. He would press a kiss or two against your skin, then momentarily lose his grip on whatever restraint he had. Then, he latched on, laving his tongue upon you as if he wished to devour you. Sometimes, he even lightly nipped you with his teeth, but he never failed to soothe the pain with more gentle kisses.

You could have happily let him continue for hours. But you had made plans, and you were going to follow through. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him close enough for you to whisper against his cheek. “Jiōrna mazumbilloti, ābrazȳrys.”

Your use of the Valyrian mother tongue surprised him, breaking him immediately from his lustful haze. He sat up and leaned over to kiss your cheek swiftly enough that you could only catch a glimpse of a mischievous smile.

“So close, but…” he apologetically kissed your nose. “You are ābrazȳrys. I am valzȳrys.” He pressed his finger on your skin just above your heart. “Ābrazȳrys – wife.” He moved the finger to his chest. “Valzȳrys – husband.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me, valzȳrys.”

He obliged, his mouth continuing its path down your front after a brief return to your breasts. The closer he came to your center, the louder your moans and pleas became.

He pulled away slightly when he finally reached your dripping cunt, chuckling slightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed this beautiful thing,” he mused.

You spread your legs as much as you could in a show of impatience. “Well, then you should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

A desperate gasp escaped you as you felt him gently blow a cold breath onto your heated core. Your back arched as he did it again, tracing a line of cool air up and down your folds.

“Aemond,” you breathlessly begged, “I’ve already waited so long. Please, don’t tease me like this!”

You watched as he looked back up at you with a wicked grin. “I’ve waited just as long, my dear. I want to savour this. Make up for lost time.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, though you could not deny his plan sounded quite pleasant. “Savour me, then.”

He did.

Aemond’s mouth was thorough. In the five months since he’d first pleasure you like this, he’d become as skilled and precise with his tongue as he was with his sword.

His tongue found your pearl almost instantly and began teasing it ever so slowly, as if it were a game for him. He alternated between pressing on it, drawing circles and various shapes upon it, and sucking on it like a candied lemon.

He did not stop until he’d pulled two releases from you. Only then did he finally acknowledge your entrance beyond merely pressing against it with his chin while he focused elsewhere.

Had he not been so eager to lap up every bit of wetness from you, you were sure the bed linens would have been ruined for how much slick spilt from you. But he was voracious in devouring you – moaning and gasping nearly as much as you were. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he came simply from being buried in your thighs. He’d done it before, after all.

Your hands found their way into his hair as his tongue delved inside of you, his wonderful, glorious nose still giving your pearl the attention it craved. Holding onto him was the only way you could withstand the intensity of what he was doing to you, to keep it from overwhelming you.

It also helped that when you tugged on his hair or slightly dug your nails into his scalp, he groaned in pleasure, sending delicious vibrations through you as his hips bucked into the bed. And when your release barreled through you, and you pulled on his hair like it was the reins of a dragon, he nearly screamed against your cunt.

Aemond gazed up at you, his face glistening and flushed. “My sweet ābrazȳrys,” he hummed before ducking his head back between your thighs again.

“Ah, ah ah!” You scolded, using the hands you had in his hair to drag him back to your face, causing another satisfied moan to escape him. “By my count, I’m at three, while you’ve yet to have even one. Unless…?”

A glance at the front of his trousers confirmed that he had not come simply from pleasuring you, and you sighed dramatically. “Still at none, then.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Aemond placed shortcut soft kisses all over your face before retracing his path downwards. “Let me give you more.”

You yanked him up again, kissing him fiercely. “No. My turn.”

He rose onto his knees as you pushed on his chest, his eye never once leaving yours. You smirked as you sat up with him, your legs still between his.

“I’ll rid us of these,” you said as you began unlacing his trousers – fortunately, he’d removed the belts for his sword and dagger before he’d even come to his rooms. You nodded to his doublet. “If you get rid of that.”

You had still yet to master the ridiculous clasps and buckles on the damnable thing. And Aemond resisted all your efforts to have a new, less complicated garment made for him.

At least he did not tease you about it this time and began to remove it swiftly.

Still, you accomplished your task before he did his, and he fumbled slightly as he threw the rest of his clothes on the floor as you grasped his red, weeping length in your hand and began returning his affections.

“Oh gods,” he groaned, forgetting his doublet entirely. “Oh, dōnus riñus… sȳros. Sȳros!”

His hands flew to your head. He didn’t pull at your hair or dig his fingers in. Aemond never did; he was always gentle. He simply cupped the back of your head with one hand while the other held your cheek, stroking you with his thumb in time with your ministrations.

He had been right when he said that learning to please a man was substantially easier than learning to please a woman. There were some things you had to remind yourself of the first few times you’d done this – don’t squeeze too hard, don’t take him too deep, and never use your teeth.

But you’d had plenty of practice and knew precisely what Aemond liked.

You knew how much he liked it when you used the tip of your tongue to trace his slit before swirling it around the head of his cock.

You knew the way he liked you to play with his stones – caressing them lightly with just your fingertips, and every so often giving them the gentlest of tugs.

You knew exactly how to pace yourself in a way that drove him wild without speeding him towards an early end.

He begged. Several times, he begged you to go faster, to let him finish. But after he’d told you what he meant by “practice” in his diary, you knew he could take it. Knew he enjoyed it.

“Please,” he said breathlessly. You looked up to find tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes.

For a moment, you slowed, worrying that you’d pushed him too far, until he pulled you back down onto him so far your nose nuzzled into the silvery hair at his base.

Your hands went to his hips, bracing yourself while he pulled you forward and back. Always gently, but with more speed than you’d allowed him thus far.

It was the first time he’d ever taken charge in this particular scenario. He was always dominant in all other intimate moments, but never with this. Whenever you held him in your mouth, you commanded the prince.

The thrill of it sparked a burning heat of desire in your core, and you moaned around him.

It was enough.

Aemond pulled you as close as he could until your brow rested against his stomach, and he reached his peak. His entire body shook as he spilled himself down your throat. And he did not release you until he heard you struggling to keep him so deep.

“Oh, my darling, did I hurt you?” he asked as he again laid himself atop you.

You laughed, kissing him deeply. “No, Aemond. Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s a good hurt.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t be, please. It was less of a hurt than you being gone.”

Aemond rolled onto his side to kiss you once more, languidly, now that the initial rush of lust had faded. You could almost feel his adoration as if it were a tangible thing. You held it tightly, and would never let it go. When he finally pulled away, his lips only left yours for a moment before he was again trailing his mouth along your neck to your chest.

“Well?” You asked. “Do you like your surprise?”

“It was wonderful, my love. Would it be indelicate of me to ask for more?”

You narrowed your eyes, tugging on his hair just enough to draw his attention away from your breasts and back to you. The moment he saw the confusion on his face, it was reflected in his own.

“This was not the surprise, Aemond.”

“Then what is?”

You smiled, looking dramatically over the bedchamber. Aemond only stared at you, waiting for you to speak, until you were forced to seize his chin and turn his head.

Then, he finally saw.

As his eye roved across the walls and shelves, he rose until he was kneeling in the center of the bed. You laid back against your pillow, watching him admire what you had spent the last four days doing.

The bare walls were no more. Now, they were filled with paintings, tapestries, and even a few little sculptures. By the bookshelves – which you had filled with as many trinkets as possible – you’d hung paintings depicting some of your favourite stories from fiction and history. A wrought-iron dragon flew across the space above the doorway. On another wall, a tapestry depicting your home keep surrounded by a field of dog roses hung proudly. And above the head of the bed, a new tapestry you had made in secret these past few months.

“Vhagar,” Aemond whispered when he saw it.

You let out a sigh of relief – you had not been sure whether he would recognise her. After all, the only time you saw the dragon was when Aemond took you to visit her. Making sketches on those few occasions would have swiftly given away your secret. Fortunately, Helaena was more than happy to help you in its creation.

Aemond moved closer to admire the tapestry, one leg falling off the bed. He started, looking down to find his foot had landed atop a plush blue rug. When he looked up to gape at you, his eye caught on the bursting of colour atop the armoire.

His plain stoneware and metal vases had been joined by others more intricate and brightly coloured. All of them were now filled with a vibrant bouquet. The one you’d painted yourself when you were young and thought yourself the next great painter was filled with bright pink dog roses, much to his delight.

“You decorated,” he said in awe as he faced you again. While he’d been surveying the room, you’d sat up, holding onto his arm and resting your head on his shoulder.

“No…” you teased, savouring that quick moment of his confusion before continuing, “I moved in.”

His face crumpled with an affection so strong you hardly knew how he contained it all.

Except you did know.

You did it, too.

“My dearest,” he sighed, “I – ”

“I love you, Aemond.”

The colour drained from his face, and you swore his breathing halted.

A roiling storm of emotions passed over his face. Unbridled joy, sweetest relief, depthless love, and a single moment of fear beneath it all. He’d told you only to say those words when you truly meant it with all your heart. His worry that you didn’t was clear.

You held his face in your hands and pulled him forward until his brow rested against yours. “I love you, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Not only with my whole heart, but with all that I am.”

A tear fell from his eye, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. “Oh my love,” he murmured like a prayer, “my love…”

Then he was upon you again. His mouth against yours, his comforting heat warming you. He wrapped his arms around you – one on your waist, one at your shoulder – and pulled you against him so tightly there was nowhere you were not touching.

“I love you, Aemond,” you repeated every time your lips parted from his. Each time, he nearly sobbed at the words.

You kissed for a long while, until you at last felt him hardening against you. For only a moment, he pulled away, his eyes still damp as he looked down at you.

“May I?”

Your only response was a smile and another kiss.

Aemond entered you in one long, gentle thrust.

That moment of stillness and adjustment was no longer strictly necessary, but you both still enjoyed it.

Just a moment to look at each other. To see the joy and now, the love within them. A moment to revel in the connection you shared and bask in the feeling of being whole with each other. Aemond kissed you again before he started thrusting into you. Both were gentle and slow, allowing you to cherish each other. You were not fucking to find release, but to simply be together.

There were times when Aemond was completely still as he ravished you with his mouth or hands rather than his cock. There were times when he rutted into you like a beast, only stopping so he could prolong the connection. And there were times when both of you were still, just embracing each other, breathing together, and knowing that you were loved.

Eventually, you could hold off your instincts no longer. You squirmed against Aemond to seek more pleasure – more of him. And he happily obliged. He braced one hand on your hip as he began to move. Faster and faster. With smooth, practised thrusts.

He was so familiar with your body that it did not take long for him to have you gasping as you approached your peak. He was already brushing against that wonderful spot inside you with every movement of his hips, and when he brought a finger to gently tease your pearl, you could not hold back.

Nor could Aemond. He buried himself in you entirely, his face falling into the crook of your shoulder as he moaned your name, along with several High Valyrian words you did not know.

You lifted his head to bring his lips to yours and kissed him until his breath steadied again.

“No,” you whined as he moved to sit up and pull his softened cock out of you. “Stay. Please.”

Aemond smiled as he understood your meaning, again pressing his hips against yours to keep himself inside you as he rolled you onto your sides. “If I could stay forever, I would.”

“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck. “In fact, I’d quite like it if you did.”

“Then so I shall.”

A long, peaceful silence passed between you. Your flushes faded, your breathing calmed, and the evening air began to blow through the windows and cool your hot skin.

The day was not yet over. There was still dinner to attend, and Aemond likely needed to meet with the Small Council to discuss his trip. Yet neither of you moved. You simply laid there, basking in the bliss of holding the person you love.

You loved him. You loved Aemond so much.

He’d said it so often to you in the past five months. You had a lot of catching up to do.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he replied.

“I love you.”

“I love you…”

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milla984 · 1 year ago

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With Neighbors Like These

Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)

Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present

Word Count: 2k

The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.

Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different.

The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.

He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”

You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.

“Feeling lonely, already?”

“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”

“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.

He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.

Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing.

“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.

“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed.

“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”

“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?”

“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.

“... so you’re a bad influence.”

The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly.

You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”

His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.

“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.

You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”

Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs.

Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again.

“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”

Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.

He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear.

“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.

You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.

“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit.

“Are you trying to make me lose control?”

You nodded in confirmation and he growled.

He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.

“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance.

“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”

His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”

You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff.

He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open.

“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.

“Better?!”

He whined again. “Not exactly.”

You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”

The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.

It was torture but he was damn good at it.

When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.

Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood.

He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.

When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.

With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.

“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.

He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs.

“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.

He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”

“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”

He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”

“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.

“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”

He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”

You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile.

“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”

NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.

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httpsdana · 3 months ago

Note

heyyy

i saw your last post and i have an idea, what about the reader having a bad past with birthdays and she didn't have birthdays since 12yo ( or anything anyway :))) ) then pablo will do to her a birthday surprise after he knew it...

20 Presents for 20th Birthday~Pablo Gavi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

this was actually so cute to write I hope you enjoy <3

request from here

master list

players/drivers I write for

Birthdays were never y/n's favorite events. Especially not her own birthday. She hadn't celebrated her birthday since she was 12. Her parents always celebrated her birthday, until her father died, and her mother never spoke to her after that, never even telling her happy birthday.

So ever since she turned 12,she had lived with her aunt, who also made sure to not celebrate her niece's birthday.

After Pablo found out about her bad experience with birthdays, he wanted to make sure her 20th birthday is one to remember.

y/n woke up in the morning, remembering that she had turned 20. As usual, she didn't expect anyone to remember her birthday. She opened her phone, only for the messages to come flooding. She was surprised, but smiled at the thoughtfulness of Gavi's friends, who are her only friends

Pedri : happy birthday y/n! have an amazing day 💖

Fermin: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIL SIS. I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR DAY 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Lamine Yamal: happy birthday mom 🫶🏼

Alejandro Balde: happy birthday little one! enjoy your day to the max 🥳

Aurora💋: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL. I CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU AGAIN ❤️😍 MOM AND DAD SAY HI 😁

She felt her eyes tearing up at the sweet messages from her friends. They already made her day better when she was in a gloomy mood at the thought of that day. That's when she came across the message that made her cry.

Pablito❤️: happy birthday to my sweet beautiful girlfriend. I'm gonna make sure you have the best day ever. I love you so so so much baby. now get ready to receive your 20 gifts for your 20th birthday ❤️❤️

She replied to all the messages, smiling gratefully at the friends she has gained because of her boyfriend. After that, she got up and entered the bathroom pf her bedroom. She was met with a sticky note on her mirror.

Your skin deserves as much love and care as you give to everyone around you. I hope this helps keep your glow as radiant as your smile.

She smiled, looking at the cute box that was on the bathroom counter. She opened it and saw all the skin care products that were there. All the expensive things she had put on her wishlist previously.

After doing her skin care routine, she changed out of her PJs and left to the kitchen.

A chocolate box was waiting for her on the kitchen counter. She smiled as she read the note on it.

Each piece in this box is as rich and delightful as the moments we share. I hope you enjoy every bite my love

She felt herself blushing at his sweetness, opening the box to see all the cute chocolate bites that were there. She ate a few pieces as she drank her coffee and wondered what Pablo had also planned out. She still couldn't believe he got her 20 gifts.

She walked to the living room to continue her tour around the house, and was met with a brand new stylish handbag on the coffee table. She admired the bag, then opened it to see it's inside, only to notice a designer perfume inside, a luxury fragrance she's been wanting. With also another note.

Just like this bag carries all your essentials, may this perfume add a touch of elegance to your every day. Enjoy both as a little reminder of how much you mean to me.

She shook her head with a smile, already feeling bad and how much all this must've costed him.

y/n thought that maybe the gifts in her apartment were over, only for her to receive a message from Pablo.

Pablito❤️: you've got a few more gifts at your apartment, before Pedri picks you up for your next destination

She smiled at the message replying with a thank you for everything he had gotten her and saying he didn't have to. She went to her closet to get ready. She didn't know what to wear, but when she opened the closet, she was met with the new barca jersey, the number 6 on the back and her name printed out on the top.

Wear this jersey with pride and remember that I'm always cheering you on, no matter where you go. Can't wait to see you in it.

She grinned happily, admiring the beautiful jersey in front on her. She was always a barca fan, so receiving a jersey that has her name and Pablo's number meant the world to her.

She paired the jersey up with some wide jeans. After getting ready, she received a message from Pedri saying that he's gonna be outside her door in a few minutes.

As she was putting on her choose, something on the small table, where they put their keys, caught her attention.

Her jaw dropped when she saw the polaroid camera there, also with a note.

Capture every special moment of this day with this camera and let each photo be a snapshot of our beautiful memories together.

She beamed at the sweet message, putting the camera in her bag and heading out. She saw Pedri in his car there, a smile on his face.

She got in the car next to him and he greeted her.

"hey you. happy birthday" he said sweetly, making her smile

"thank you Pedri. now where are we going?" she asked, putting on her seatbelt.

"we are going to the stadium now" he said, starting the car.

"oh and before we move, make sure to wear these sunglasses so the sun doesn't burn your eyes" Pedri gave her a small bag.

She opened it, seeing the beautiful sunglasses inside. She smiled and put them on, before Pedri started his drive.

The drive was silent, and when they arrived y/n was about to open the door, before Pedri stopped her.

He gave her a small paper, and when she looked at it she saw that it was a voucher, for her favorite spa.

"make sure to enjoy your day at the spa whenever you want. it's available for the next two weeks" he smile.

"thank you Pedri" she said genuinely making him smile

"it's not me who you should thank. plus it's your birthday. now go don't be late" he ushered her out of his car.

She got out of the car and made her way inside the stadium.

As she started her walk, one of the staff member came by her side. She gave her a big bouquet of roses, her favorite flowers, and told her to follow her.

She walked behind her, the bouquet still in her hand. At the beginning of the hallway, she was met by Lamine.

"y/n! happy birthday" he exclaimed, giving her a small hug.

"thank you son" she joked, making him laugh.

Suddenly, he pulled a small bag from behind him, giving it to y/n

"from gavi" he said. She smiled gratefully, handing him the bouquet so she can open it.

She saw a box in the bag, seemingly a jewelry box. She opened it, and was met with some of her all time favorite lyrics.

I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me

She giggled silently, removing the paper, and seeing the gorgeous gold necklace, that had the letter P on it.

Lamine helped her put her necklace on, before handing her the bouquet. She continued her walk with the staff member.

Until she was then met by Fermin.

"here's the birthday girl. how has your day been?" he asked, giving her a hug.

"it's been amazing." she answered.

He also pulled a back from behind him, giving it to y/n. She opened the box inside, and saw a gorgeous bracelet. It had her initial on it, but when she looked at the back of it, she noticed the date of hers and Pablo's anniversary on the back.

"that's adorable" she mumbled, putting the gold bracelet on.

"you gotta go now. I'll see you tonight" Fermin waved at her, before leaving her and the staff

tonight? that's weird

They walked more down the hallway, and finally they reached the pitch. The staff told y/n to walk a bit and she'll know what to do next.

y/n walked alone on the pitch, until she saw a familiar figure standing there. When she noticed it was Pablo, she placed the bouquet on the grass and ran into his arms.

She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, while he lifted her of the ground by hugging her waist.

"I love you so much" she mumbled into his neck. He placed her down on the floor, holding her face in his hands

"did you like my gifts?" he asked softly, his voice holding adoration and love

"like them? I loved them Pablo. you shouldn't have done all that" she said, feeling guilty once again about the money he spent

He shook his head nonchalantly.

"don't be silly. that's the least I could do to make up all the birthdays of the past." he said, making her smile.

She leaned in and connected their lips into a passionate kiss, that they only pulled away from when they needed some air.

"come on you still have, how many gifts? nine?" he said, making her laugh

"20 gifts is a lot Gavi. you really shouldn't have" she said, making him sigh.

"just shut up. if it makes you better, I didn't pay for all of them yet" he said, making her confused.

"well I haven't payed for the restaurant we're having dinner at tomorrow. I haven't booked our trip to Greece yet. Also we haven't gotten our outfits for the Taylor Swift concert in Miami-" he was interrupted by her squeal

"we're gonna see Taylor Swift?!" she almost screamed making him laugh

"yes we are" he nodded, making her jump again into his arms

"I love you so so so much" she said quickly, while he kissed her temple

"I love you more, now come on we have to go shopping for your birthday party tonight" he said.

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the-offside-rule · 11 days ago

Text

Alexia Putellas (FCBarcelona) - Capí

Requested: no, literally just an idea

Prompt: Y/n makes her childhood dreams come true

Warnings: none

As a young girl, Y/n had only one dream; to play for FC Barcelona Femení. She admired many players, Jenni Hermoso being one of her all time favourites, but none came close to Alexia Putellas. She watched every match, memorized every highlight, and even taped up posters of Alexia on her bedroom walls. When she got accepted into La Masía at 12, she couldn’t believe her luck. It was her first step towards a dream that felt so far out of reach, and yet… every training session made it feel a little closer. Then came the day she met the Alexia Putellas.

Y/n fiddled with her Barcelona jacket, trying her best to remember any form of Spanish she had learned in the few months she was there, but with Alexia soon approaching, nothing sprang to mind. "Señora Putellas, es un honor." She stammered awkwardly, half-excited, half-intimidated, as she put out her hand for Alexia to shake.

"Señora? Estoy tan vieja?" Alexia chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she corrected her, Y/n's teammates and coaches chuckling at her overly polite manner. "Alexia." She smiled, shaking her hand. She said some other things, but she said them too quickly for her to understand. The one thing she did get? "Quieres un foto conmigo?" Y/n nodded as she looked over to the photographer who snapped a photo of Alexia with a couple of the kids, but closest to her was Y/n of course.

Years passed, and the language that once felt foreign became second nature. Y/n had grown not just in age but in skill, and she finally made the senior team; a dream come true.

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The locker room buzzed with nervous energy as Y/n laced up her trainers, her fingers trembling slightly. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her excitement under control as she made her way to the gym where the others were. Just as she stepped in, the world seemed to pause. The other women turned to glance at her before turning back to get back to their conversations. As Y/n stood awkwardly at the door, she froze and there, walking towards her, was Alexia, her captain, her idol. Her heart raced, but she stood a little straighter, hoping to look every bit the player she had worked so hard to become. When Alexia reached her, she extended a hand, a warm smile on her face. "Y/n, verdad?"

Y/n’s mouth opened, and for a second, she struggled to find words. "Sí, sí. Soy Y/n." Her words felt thick on her tongue, as though her excitement might trip them up. Y/n could hardly believe it; Alexia Putellas shaking her hand like she’d never met her before. But that wasn’t right, was it?

"Es un placer conocerte. Soy Alexia." Alexia said, her voice smooth and familiar. It took Y/n a moment to remember how to speak, let alone in Spanish. "Y yo tambien, pedo no es la primera vez que nos conocemos." Y/n replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Alexia’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her curiosity piqued.

"En serio?" Alexia asked, crossing her arms in an easy, casual stance. "Cuándo nos conocimos?" Y/n felt her cheeks heat up as she reached for her phone. "Cuando era más joven, era parte de La Masía. Un día, tuve la suerte de verte y bueno, fue un momento inolvidable." Alexia chuckled, looking at her with newfound interest. "Tienes una foto?"

Y/n fumbled for her phone, scrolling quickly through her social media until she found what she was looking for; her very first post, a faded photograph of her younger self, gawking beside a young Alexia at La Masía. It had been her profile picture for years before she decided she had looked different and needed a change. She showed the screen to Alexia, who squinted at the photo for a second before her eyes widened in recognition.

"Dios mío!" Alexia exclaimed, laughing in delight, turning around to the videographers who were there to capture Y/n's first training session for Barca TV. "Mira cómo hemos cambiado. Eras solo una niña." Y/n grinned, barely containing her excitement. "Sí, y me dijiste que te llamara Alexia, no Señora Putellas." She teased. "Oh, sí, las dos éramos tan jóvenes." Alexia grinned. "Me llamaste Señora Putellas? En serio?"

Y/n nodded, grinning at the memory. "No sabía mucho español entonces, y ‘Señora’ era lo único que me parecía respetuoso." Alexia chuckled, clearly delighted by the memory. "Es una pena que no recuerde haberte conocido. Cuantos años tienes?" She glanced at Y/n, eyes twinkling with pride. "Tengo dieceseis años." Y/n replied. "No pensé que acabarías aquí tan pronto. Eras como Gavi,huh?" Y/n chuckled. Gavi had made his debut that year with the senior team too.

With a gesture, Alexia motioned toward the field. "Ven, vamos. Te toca demostrar lo que has aprendido desde entonces." Y/n followed, almost in a daze. But Alexia’s calm energy grounded her as they approached the other players in the warm-up circle. "Quieres ser mi compañera en los ejercicios?" Alexia asked, her tone almost as if she were giving her a challenge. "En serio?" Y/n’s eyes lit up. "Sería un honor."

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The atmosphere in the stadium was electric as Y/n prepared for her first Champions League game. The roar of the crowd sent a mix of excitement and nerves racing through her veins. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach. Just then, Alexia approached her, noticing her unease. With a reassuring smile, she wrapped an arm around Y/n’s shoulders. "Relájate, es solo otro partido." She said, her voice warm and steady. Y/n nodded, though the tension still lingered.

As the team gathered in the dressing room, Y/n tried to stay to herself, putting on her headphones and immersing herself in music. She sipped on her cup of Yerba mate, a ritual she had picked up from her teammates, letting the calming warmth wash over her. She glanced around, hoping Alexia wouldn’t come to check on her, giving her the space she needed to gather her thoughts.

When it was time for warm-ups, Y/n spotted her parents near the dugout. She waved excitedly, their presence giving her an extra boost of confidence. As she joined the others on the field, the familiar rhythm of the game began to soothe her nerves.

The match kicked off, and Y/n watched intently, absorbing every moment. The game was intense, and the energy in the stadium was palpable. When the second half began, her heart raced as she heard her name called for a substitution.

As she stepped onto the pitch, adrenaline surged through her as the fans screamed and chanted her name. Within minutes, the ball found its way to her. She and Aitana passed it back and forth before Y/n began a fearless sprint up towards the net. Two defenders left to stop her, God knows they couldn't. Her foot launched back and with a determined strike, she sent it into the back of the net. The crowd erupted, and in that instant, she felt invincible. Without a second thought, she sprinted towards Alexia, who stood at the sideline, her eyes wide with pride.

Y/n reached her, exhilaration bubbling over. "Lo hice!" She exclaimed, the words tumbling out in excitement. Alexia pulled her into a tight embrace, a beaming smile on her face. "Lo hiciste! stoy tan orgullosa de ti, Chiquitita!" She replied, her joy infectious. In that moment, surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the warmth of her captain’s support, Y/n knew she had truly arrived.

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The sun was splitting the stones, Y/n was sick, and this training session was not helping whatsoever, but Y/n was determined to prove herself. She lunged into tackles, pressing hard and going after every ball as if it were the final seconds of a match. At this rate, she didn't know the line where her being good at defending and her being too aggravated about being sick, and so, the aggression became clearer through each tackle. As Vicky approached her with the ball, Y/n squared, ready to tackle only to be rushed past, leaving her to fall to the ground. She groaned into the pitch, unbelievably disappointed with herself. She barely noticed Alexia walking over until her captain placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Tranquila, Y/n." Alexia said softly. "Lo último que queremos es que una de las chicas se lesione." Y/n took a deep breath, Alexia’s words settling over her. She knew her captain was right; there was no need to overexert herself. "Vale, Capí. Lo siento." She nodded, adjusting her intensity and finding a better rhythm with the team

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It was the Clasico. Barcelona, of course, was winning by two goals, but Y/n was looking to make it three. As she was running up the pitch, she felt a surge of pain in her ankle, followed by a shove, causing her to stumble to the ground. She looked around, seeing Olga Carmona walking away and the referee handing her a yellow card. Although her ankle was absolutely killing her, frustration flared, and she jumped to her feet, ready to confront her. Just as she took a step forward, Alexia was there, stepping between them and placing a gentle hand on Y/n’s arm.

"No vale la pena, Y/n. Deja que el fútbol hable por ti." Alexia said, her voice calm but firm. "Capí, me hizo falta!" Y/n protested as Alexia pushed her back. "Eres luchadora de la UFC? Por qué buscas pelea? Métete en el área para el tiro libre, vamos." Y/n hesitated, feeling the fire simmer down as Alexia held her gaze. With a deep breath, she nodded, letting the moment pass. She walked away, grateful that her captain had stopped her from making a mistake.

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The stage lights were blinding, and Y/n felt the weight of the Women’s Ballon d’Or in her hands as she looked out over the crowd. Her heart raced with overwhelming gratitude and pride, but most of all, disbelief. She had dreamed of this moment countless times, but now that it was real, it felt like a dream all over again.

Taking a steadying breath, she leaned into the microphone. "Thank you, everyone. To my coaches, my teammates. Every one of you has been my strength, and without you, this moment wouldn’t have been possible." Y/n smiled. "To my mother and father who never left my side, I dedicate this to you. To the culers and to all the little girls around the world dreaming of holding this award, this is your award as much as mine, i gràcies pel teu suport."

Her gaze drifted to Alexia, standing near the front with the brightest smile, her eyes shining with pride. Y/n’s heart swelled, and she took another breath, her voice softening as she spoke directly to her inspiration.

"But there is one person who helped me develop as a player more than any coach, friend, or teammate has ever done, and I am pretty sure I wouldn't be up here without her guidance. Growing up, my dream was to be like Alexia Putellas. She was my hero, I based my style of play on her before I even developed my own, so in my football DNA, she is rooted so deeply into it."

"I remember on my first day of training with the senior team 3 years ago, she was the first one to actually say hello. She has pulled me out of fights both on and off the pitch. She has calmed me before big games. She truly is what you would envision a Captain to be." The crowd quieted, hanging onto every word as Y/n glanced at Alexia again, the emotion in her voice evident. "Standing on this stage, where my hero stood to accept her Ballon d’Ors, it’s the greatest honour I could ever imagine. And even if I never win another one of these, or if I never won one to begin with, I’d be happy because I got to play alongside my childhood idol. Visca el Barça!"

The crowd responded with a wave of applause, but all Y/n could see was the tear in Alexia’s eye, her smile even brighter. As Y/n left the podium, Alexia stepped forward, meeting her halfway and pulling her into a tight embrace. "Estoy tan orgullosa de ti." Alexia whispered, her voice filled with pride. "Gracias, Capí." Y/n replied, barely audible above the applause. "He recorrido un largo camino desde La Masía."

#football imagines #football #football blurbs #fcbarcelona #fcb femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fluff #alexia putellas

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stars-and-the-min · 6 months ago

Text

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (15) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n tantalisingly close yet still a bit too far (first oscar podium of the season!!!) also btw this is gonna be my last post for a little bit, i'm in my exam season, i just wanted to let you guys know!

masterlist | last part | part 15 | next part

YOUTUBE

comments

omg proof of life

3:28 the subtle comedy of her being so close to the f1 world while being scared of going fast 😭

we need more interviews of her! she's an absolute delight to listen to

don't be shy, release the uncut version

choosing your bf over your literal blood-related cousin is lowkey wild ↳ i mean if you think about it like this: would you rather be driven at high speeds by your cousin who would mess with you or your boyfriend who worships the ground you walk on?

MESSAGES

from the phone of oscar piastri

INSTAGRAM

selinabui 🎵 Florence + The Machine · Cosmic Love | Florence, Italy

liked by oscarpiastri and 492,384 others

selinabui i took the stars from my eyes and then i made a map tagged: cameliazzz

oliviarodrigo obsessed with you 💜 ↳ selinabui @.oliviarodrigo liv, baby, we did not plan these tours well, were we aiming for missing each other by two days?

28kaslina24 the florence and the machine lyric caption >>>> WELCOME BACK QUEEN!!!

oscarpiastri Who'd you have dinner with looking that pretty? ↳ selinabui @.oscarpiastri just this f1 driver, i think he drives for mclaren ↳ landonorris @.selinabui yeah i had a blast at dinner 👍

tina_kim not 100% sold that this is actually her posting... why are they playing mind games with us ↳ pastry81 @tina_kim oscar commented so i remain cautiously optimistic

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h oscar piastri trending on twitter for two reasons: getting adopted by charles leclerc and that video of him very unsubtly checking out his girlfriend ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h i felt like i was intruding but also he was very very attractive in a way that is concerning

jackpot ☆ @slayridgo · 3h lina's reply to olivia's comment made me realise that taylor, olivia and empty bottles are just... bouncing around europe at the same time and that thought was so funny i just had to share it ↳ jackpot ☆ @slayridgo · 3h i have all three tour calendars open and they're narrowly missing each other by like a couple days- selivia are both in the same venue in paris in the SAME WEEK but EB is performing june 10-12 and olivia is june 14-15 but by june 15, EB are in amsterdam all while taylor is in the UK and after taylor's UK leg finishes, she's going to amsterdam which is the same time EB's UK round begins and while olivia's on break ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 49m the music girlies are having a blast

june @linafesting · 2h wait not me just realising that EB's break almost perfectly coincides with the F1 summer break... ↳ june @linafesting · 2h where's that reddit theory that EB planned the tour around the F1 calendar, how long does it take to plan a tour???

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri Circuit de Monaco

liked by charles_leclerc and 277,486 others

oscarpiastri Feeling the Monégasque love this weekend 💛 tagged: mclaren, charles_leclerc, sennabrazil and institutoayrtonsenna

ninisf1diary Oscar Piastri-Leclerc 😭😭😭

piastri_lina pls don't fall victim to the monaco curse pls pls pls

TWITTER

opal @pxastrixxx · 7h SHE isn't even attending the monaco gp like figures... ↳ 🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@.linabelles · 4h fyi she can't go bc she's performing two sold-out shows milan on race weekend, you would know this if you used your brain

Kas 🎸 @EB_KAS · 3h got put in time out bc i laughed at lina when she walked into a doorframe, someone avenge me ↳ Lando Norris @.LandoNorris · 2h Did she happen to be on the phone with my teammate? ↳ Kas 🎸 @EB_KAS · 14m embarrassingly, yes

president linami @.linaminami · 7m i'm like crying wdym lina was so distracted on the phone with oscar she WALKED INTO A DOORFRAME ↳ president linami @.linaminami · 6m GIRLIE THIS IS SLIGHTLY PATHETIC GET OFF THE GROUND 😭

kayla @luna_apocolypse · 1h somewhere in milan selina bui is screaming bc jenson button is commentating the monaco grand prix ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 1h context??? ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 47m omg sorry i forget that a lot more f1 fans follow me now 😭 lina had a massive childhood crush on jenson button, there's a photo of her like two inches from the tv staring at him

jess @OPIXSTRI · 21m why do lina and i have the same taste in men :) surely there has to be a jenson button to oscar piastri pipeline out there

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by lukaszhang and 332,185 others

selinabui but it's the monaco grand prix! i never miss the grand prix!

emptybottlesbar All tuned in right before Milan Night 1 🙈

oscarpiastri How's your head? ↳ selinabui @.oscarpiastri i think u know from experience :) ↳ cameliazzz @.selinabui there are CHILDREN on this app

moonbeamlina got catfished by the selfie bc why was the rest just f1

TWITTER

TMD Tour News @EB-TMDTour · 2h A fan close to the stage interrupts the welcome speech to tell the band about the results of Formula 1 qualifying. I realise how crazy this sounds as I'm typing it up, but I'm being dead serious; congrats to Oscar for a P2 position! #TMDWorldTour ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 2h i'm dying they just paused the show for the results, we're only one song into the show, lina's barely gotten thru introductions and then you just hear: "OSCAR P2!" like DAMN way to get her attention

EB Updates @emptybottles_news · 2h Fan: Oscar qualified P2! Lina: Huh? I heard Oscar, what's happening? Oh my god, is qualifying over, how'd it end up? Fan: Piastri P2! Leclerc on pole! Zhou P20! Lina: Oscar P2? *pause* There isn't anything being investigated is there? ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h "there isn't anything being investigated is there" LMAO SHE'S TRAUMATISED FROM IMOLA 😭😭😭 ↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h zhou p20 hurt a little actually, she was so unfazed ↳ jules 🌿 @juliiaapxp · 53m i mean she clearly watched the practice sessions, she knows that the saubers have been dreadful this weekend, she probably expected that result

lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 12m why was she so darn hot tonight... is this that famed oscar piastri effect?

president linami @ linaminami · 1h i need her biblically ngl why did that smirk make me blush so hard tonight, i've watched basically every show on these grainy ass live streams but tonight's one got me kicking my legs in the middle of the night

EB Bar @theemptybottlesbar · 23m hey... hey... how y'all doing? ↳ oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 18m i've been tense since fp3 and now i'm being seduced by selina bui so i'm probably not doing very well mentally ↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h with all the love in my heart, tell them to stop being so hot

piaa⁸¹ @.papayaeightyone · 21m oscar is gonna open up this app with hundreds of thousands of EB fans down so bad for his girlfriend and he's gonna get it

INSTAGRAM

lukaszhang Milan, Italy

liked by liam_zhang and 300,496 others

lukaszhang post-show shenanigans tagged: eb_jonno, aidan_ebass, selinabui and cameliazzz

aidan_ebass some of us, i don't wanna name names, are becoming alcohol-dependent ↳ selinabui @aidan_ebass i'm not playing with u, it's jonny ↳ eb_jonno @.selinabui i can't be offended by something that i wholeheartedly agree with

cameliazzz for the record, i don't recall any of this

emptybottlesbar you can be drunk but never camilina ijbol drunk ↳ selinabui @emptybottlesbar you were born in the year 1993, this is embarrassing for everyone ↳ linasgirl4 @.selinabui SHE'S BACK TERRORISING HER MANAGEMENT ACCOUNTS I'VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER

TWITTER

pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 2h thoughts and prayers to lina bui bc she decided to have a concert in the middle of the monaco gp where her boyfriend starts from the front row ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 1h technically... the show starts at 5pm and the grand prix should end by like 4:45pm... she could very much so watch it ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 1h unfortunately i think they run a soundcheck plus hair and makeup in the lead-up to the show, that's also the reason why she couldn't watch quali! it all takes a bit and cami has said that they eat lunch then start preparing for the show then have a quick dinner then often grab supper after the show ends

Formula 1 @.F1 · 5m 🔴 RED FLAG 🔴 Sainz runs off in Casino Square and there are three cars behind which have made contact #F1 #MonacoGP ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 2m lmao yeah no lina aint watching shit...

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

TMD Tour News @EB-TMDTour · 1h Lina addresses Oscar Piastri's podium finish at the Monaco Grand Prix! "Guys, I know, you don't have to yell it up to me today, he texted me backstage during intermission." #TMDWorldTour ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 1h LMAO I WAS LITERALLY WONDERING WHY INTERMISSION FELT SO LONG TONIGHT

opal @pxastrixxx · 1h oscar got his first podium of the season and does she even care? ↳ opal @pxastrixxx · 1h the whole race when it was cutting to the ferrari wags and absolutely nothing from the papaya garage... the silence was loud ngl ↳ piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 28m can you stop bringing her up if you clearly don't like her? she's in the middle of a world tour, she physically couldn't attend bc she's performing to 17000 people in milan, and fyi, she did care, she congratulated him in private, not everything about their relationship is a spectacle, get a fucking life :)

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 17m her comedic timing 😭 she's baiting us all, i swear... she started the encore with the most melodramatic sigh and the sweetest voice with the acoustic guitar, and then she pulled the rug out from under us all ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 15m she said: oscar, if you're still watching... *a couple seconds of guitar strumming with an angelic smile, you think she's about to give the most lovely speech of how proud she is of him* stop 🥰 NOW IF I WERE OSCAR PIASTRI--

↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 2m he's so goofy sometimes it's so endearing like no wonder she's so down bad

emptybottles_official Italy

liked by emptybottlesbar and 310,182 others

emptybottles_official Florence and Milan, you guys were absolute DREAMS! This past week in Italy has been nothing short of magical, and we hope we lived up to the love you've shown us since our debut. These shows have been a long time coming for you guys! 🔜 Zürich, Switzerland 🇨🇭

emptybottlesbar ABSOLUTELY PHENOMENAL NIGHTS!!!

marie_h.sb the milan shows were a new kinda crazy

tina_kim italy has always loved them so much, my heart🥺

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee @urfavsgf @eiaaasamantha @sp1rl @destinyg237 @iloveyou3000morgan

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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mybutcheredtongue · 1 month ago

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (see full series list here)

1995

The house is all commotion the next day. Most of the kids wake up late and this sends Mrs Weasley into a tizzy as she hurries from place to place gathering trunks and belongings and throwing them downstairs in front of the door. You place your own trunk in front of the door, scratching Dubh’s ears as she leaps into your arms and digs her claws into your jumper to hold herself against your chest.

Moody stands at the doorway, both hands on his staff as his magical eye swivels from room to room upstairs. He glances at his watch. “Where is Podmore? We can't leave without him, we’ll be one short.” He taps his foot impatiently.

Mrs Weasley looks up the stairway and clears her throat before bellowing, “WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!”

At once, Walburga Black’s portrait starts screaming and shouting, but no one bothers to close the curtains on her. The noise in the hall will only continue to wake her.

Sirius appears beside you and slips his hand into the back pocket of your jeans, kissing your cheek. “All set?”

You hum, turning to face him. “Hope so. I’m going to miss you so much, you know that?”

He smiles lovingly at you. “I’ll miss you too — I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Talk to Kreacher a lot more, I guess?” You smile cheekily at him.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t even joke about that, it would be hell.”

Ron, Harry, and Hermione come hurrying down the stairs, their footsteps drowned out by Walburga Black’s screeches.

“Harry, you're to come with me and Molly,” you yell at Harry over your mother-in-law's portrait.

“Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor’s going to deal with the luggage,” Mrs Weasley explains. “...Oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!”

Sirius’ hand leaves your pocket and he turns into his dog form, following you as you clamber over the trunks.

“Oh, honestly…” Mrs Weasley says despairingly, “well, on your own head be it!”

She wrenches open the front door and you step out into the morning sunlight, followed by Harry and Sirius. You descend the front steps of number 12 and they vanish the moment you reach the pavement.

You glance at your watch. “We’d better hurry up, Molly.”

“I know, I know,” she groans, lengthening her stride, “but Mad-Eye wanted us to wait for Sturgis…if only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again…but Fudge wouldn’t let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days…How Muggles can stand travelling without magic…”

Sirius, on the other hand, seems delighted. He gives a joyful bark and runs around you, snapping at pigeons and chasing his own tail. Harry laughs and you can’t help but smile. He’s been trapped inside for far too long.

Mrs Weasley purses her lips disapprovingly.

Dubh keeps her gaze laser-focused on the dog, watching him closely and swishing her tail agitatedly when he comes too close, digging her claws tighter into the fabric of your jumper.

On platform nine and three quarters, students and families bustle from place to place carrying their heavy trunks, owls hooting from their cages.

“I hope the others make it in time,” Mrs Weasley says anxiously, staring behind her at the arch through which new arrivals come.

“Nice dog, Harry!” calls Lee Jordan, waving at Harry.

“Thanks, Lee,” says Harry, grinning, as Sirius wags his tail frantically.

“Oh, good,” Mrs Weasley says with a sigh of relief, “here’s Alastor with the luggage, look…”

With a cap pulled low over his eyes, Moody limps through the archway pushing a cart full of trunks.

“All okay,” he mutters to you. “Don’t think we were followed…”

Seconds later, Mr Weasley emerges onto the platform with Ron and Hermione. You start to help unloading the trunks from the cart and nearly have them all off when Remus turns up with Ginny and the twins.

“No trouble?” growls Moody.

“Nothing,” Remus replies, dusting off the front of his jacket.

“I’ll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore,” Moody says lowly. “That’s the second time he’s not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus.”

“Well, look after yourselves,” Remus says, shaking hands all round.

You beam at him when he reaches you and pull him in for a tight hug, laughing. “See ya, Moony.”

“Keep your head down and your eyes peeled,” Moody says to Harry, shaking Harry’s hand too. “And don’t forget, all of you — careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don’t put it in a letter at all.”

“If you need to pass anything on, tell me,” you say as the warning whistle for the train sounds and the students still on the platform start to hurry onto the train. Sirius nudges your hand with his head and you gently scratch the top of his head, smiling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Quick, quick,” says Mrs Weasley distractedly, hugging everyone at random. “Write…be good…if you’ve forgotten anything we’ll send it on…onto the train now, hurry…”

Bewitching your trunk to fly in the air behind you, you hurry onto the train and make your way past the throes of students greeting you in the corridor, down to your usual compartment in the prefects’ carriage. You set Dubh down on the seat beside you and as you sit down, you feel something in your back pocket and curious, you pull out a slip of parchment and unfold it.

I love you

Tell Snape he looks like a gargoyle

You chuckle appreciatively, putting the paper back in your pocket and feeling your heart warm.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

February, 1977

“Transfiguring something of a larger stature, however, can prove to be more difficult,” Professor McGonagall says, the chalk in her fingers scratching against the blackboard as she writes instructions. “It takes a lot more concentration and practice, so I suggest you use your free time wisely and —”

Sirius sighs in boredom, eyes skimming around the room until he finds the person he's looking for. Across the room, sitting as far away from James as possible, is Lily, and right beside her, you.

You lean over to whisper something to Lily, who chuckles, and Sirius finds himself following your every movement, tracing the line of your jaw with his eyes, the curve of your neck, the way you're swinging your legs under the chair absent-mindedly…

“And then, you put the charm on the ties and I'll keep look-out — hey!”

James slaps Sirius across the back of his head angrily.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“You're not even listening!”

Sirius snaps out of his daze and looks back at his best friend’s angry face, scrunched up beneath his circular glasses.

“Sorry, Prongs, what were you saying?”

James scoffs, folding his arms dramatically. “You were staring at her again, weren't you?” He makes a noise with his mouth like the cracking of a whip, rolling his eyes. “Pathetic.”

“In my defense, she is very pretty — “

“I don't want to hear it!” James snaps. “Y’know, I liked you better before you got a girlfriend. You were more fun.”

“Oh, shut up, James — you're just jealous ‘cause Lily would rather go out with a toad than with you — “

“That's not true — !”

Someone clears their throat loudly and the boys look up to find McGonagall glaring at them from behind her spectacles, clearly unimpressed.

“Yes, Potter, Black — we’ll all just wait for you to finish your very important conversation and then I can get back to teaching.”

Quiet sniggers ripple through the room. Lily rolls her eyes as her best friend giggles.

“Sirius was distracting me, miss —”

“James won't stop talking —”

“Enough.” Professor McGonagall pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Pay attention or it's detention for the both of you.”

“Yes, miss.”

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,” says Dumbledore after he gets to feet for his start-of-year speech. “First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students — and a few of our older students ought to know by now too.”

You glance down the Great Hall, skimming your eyes around at all your students.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch’s office door. We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

There is a round of polite applause. You crane your neck to look at the new hire of Professor Umbridge: a small woman wearing a fluffy pink cardigan with mousy brown hair and a pair of small, beady eyes. She has her lips pursed and her hands folded in on the table as she looks out at the student body.

“Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —”

“Ahem.”

Dumbledore breaks off and looks surprisingly at Professor Umbridge, who has gotten to her feet (though it is hard to tell the difference between her height while standing and while sitting), and clearly wants to make a speech.

Minerva glances at you for half a second, her mouth a thin, disapproving line as she turns back to focus her attention on Umbridge.

Her interruption irks you — no one has ever interrupted Dumbledore in the middle of his speech before. It feels quite disrespectful, though Dumbledore doesn't seem to mind as he sits down and gives Umbridge his utmost attention.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” she starts, her voice sickeningly squeaky, “for those kind words of welcome.”

She clears her throat again, that same little ‘ahem’. “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces smiling back at me!”

You raise your eyebrows, noticing how the faces looking back at Umbridge seem quite far from happy — they actually look highly affronted at the childish tone that she has taken on.

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we’ll be very good friends!”

Nobody seems too keen on that idea.

She clears her throat again, but this time her tone becomes more business-like and official. “The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

She clears her throat again and Minerva’s face tightens as she exchanges a glance with you, her distaste clear on her face.

“Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. Then again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

Finally, she sits down, looking expectantly at her audience. Dumbledore claps. You and the rest of the staff start to join in, though you bring your hands together once, maybe twice, before stopping completely.

“Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,” Dumbledore says as he stands, bowing to her. “Now, as I was saying — Quidditch tryouts will be held…”

“I suspect we’ll be having an interesting year with her here,” you say to Minerva in a low voice, moving your lips as subtly as possible while keeping your eyes on Dumbledore.

A breath of air whistles out of her nose. “Interesting indeed. The Ministry loves to poke their nose into things.”

You hum in agreement. “You can say that again.”

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

“Now as you all know, next June you will be sitting your O.W.L. examinations,” you say, leaning against your desk and flicking your gaze from student to student in your classroom. “They are, of course, important — failing certain classes may mean you are unable to continue those classes at N.E.W.T. level next year — but they are nothing to get stressed about. Study well and do your best and you will be absolutely fine, there is no need to panic. Exams are not the be-all and end-all.”

Hermione’s brow furrows as though this notion is completely inconceivable to her. You notice the way she has her parchment neatly laid out on her desk at the ready, her book perched at the top, and her quills perfectly aligned with each other beside it.

Beside her, however, Ron and Harry have absolutely nothing on their desks.

“Those who are interested in taking N.E.W.T. level Astronomy in sixth year, I accept anyone with at least a passing grade in my class. I must warn you, though, that the work and curriculum is increasingly hard and quite a jump from O.W.L. level.”

The students look quite bored.

“I'm guessing you've heard all that before?”

There is scattered murmurs of agreements and nodding.

You sigh. “I’ll be honest with you all — you will be sick and tired of hearing about those exams in no time. Have your classes been hard so far?”

They glance at each other, and you hear Dean Thomas snort and mutter to Seamus Finnegan, “Not Defense Against the Dark Arts, anyway.”

Your ears prick up at this and you raise your eyebrows. “Not in Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“Professor Umbridge refuses to let us use defensive spells in class,” Hermione says, frowning.

“What?”

“She's only teaching us theory,” Harry confirms, scowling. “We don't even get to practice the ones we need for the exam.”

“And she called Professor Lupin an ‘extremely dangerous half-breed!” Dean pops up angrily.

This seems to set off the rest of the class, and all at once they start voicing their complaints with vigour.

“What's the point of having a Defense Against the Dark Arts class if we’re not even learning how to defend ourselves in it?”

“You can't learn spells just by reading about them!”

“She's not even a real teacher —”

You wait patiently until everyone has let out their anger before you take a deep breath.

“That’s…ridiculous.”

You pick up your textbook, thumbing through it absent-mindedly as you think of what to say next. “But…if this is what your teacher wants you to do, I should tell you to listen to her.”

Uproar, again — and you hold up an authoritative hand to quiet your agitated students.

“I will tell you to listen to her, but that's not to say you're definitely going to listen to me,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “You should listen to me, but not everyone likes to follow the rules…I will tell you not to practice these defensive spells in the privacy of your own dorms because Professor Umbridge does not want you to be performing these spells at all. I will also tell you not to be so open in complaining of your new teacher — you will get into trouble.”

You sigh dramatically, flipping the pages of your book to the first chapter as the students pass mischievous glanced around at each other. “Now, let's get started, shall we?”

⁠After a long day of classes, back-to-school paperwork, and meetings, you relax into your comfy armchair in your office, listening as Minerva talks about how her week went. Your mug of hot tea warms your hands as the typical Scottish rain patters against the castle windows, and Dubh sleeps contentedly on a stack of papers lying haphazardly on your desk.

“I don’t trust that Dolores Umbridge,” Minerva says with a tight-lipped frown. “She sent Potter to my office on Tuesday, for running his mouth.”

You hum. “About her theory-only classes? Yes, I heard several complaints already.”

“Not just about that,” she says. “He told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, which did not go down well, of course.”

“Like talking to a brick wall, I’d say.”

She clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “He’d do well to keep his head down and out of sight after her speech at the start-of-term feast…” She casts a glance at you from behind her spectacles. “As would you.”

You laugh humourlessly. “Believe me, I am. I’ve been avoiding that woman like the plague — thankfully she’s easy to spot from a mile away with those horrible cardigans.”

As though she doesn’t mean to, Minerva lets out a cat-like giggle, before clearing her throat and regaining her composure.

You smile knowingly at her over the rim of your cup, resisting the urge to laugh.

She yawns, adjusting herself in her seat. “I suppose I best be off, I have a few essays to grade for tomorrow…”

She sets her cup down on the table, standing up. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” you answer honestly, smiling at her. “Night, Minnie.”

She opens the door to leave. “Goodnight.”

You've never liked that Dolores Umbridge, not since she drafted some anti-werewolf legislation a few years ago that made it impossible for Remus to find a job. You remember the stress it gave Remus, he had very little money and was reluctant to accept any help from you — despite the large sum of gold sitting in your bank, practically untouched.

When you settle down to sleep that night, your mind turns to Sirius: alone in Grimmauld Place, listening to the screams and screeches of his mother’s portrait. The moment you got on the Hogwarts Express you regretted letting him persuade you to come back to school and leaving him, right after you had just found him.

As if she senses your worry, Dubh pads along your covers before settling into the bed beside your chest, purring contentedly and bringing you significant comfort just by being there.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

The next morning you wake for breakfast, sitting as far away from Dolores Umbridge as possible, making absolutely sure to avoid all eye contact with the woman. The last thing you need is a Ministry mole rooting around your business when you are technically harbouring a fugitive in your house.

While you poke and prod at your breakfast, thinking about nothing in particular, owls begin to filter in through the windows bearing the morning’s post. A barn owl makes it way over to you and drops off your usual delivery of the Daily Prophet.

“You’re still reading that?” Minerva asks in surprise as you tuck a few coins into the small sack tied to the owl’s leg as payment.

You hum, undoing the twine wrapped around the paper. “Good to know what the enemy is putting out there, right?” As you unfold the newspaper, your heart drops and you let out a small gasp.

“What is it?” Minerva asks, and you wordlessly hold the paper between you so you can both read the headline article.

BLACK SPOTTED IN LONDON

The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer who killed thirteen people, is currently hiding in London. The Ministry warns the wizarding community that Black is very dangerous and to be vigilant. Anyone with information of his whereabouts must come forward and alert the Ministry immediately.

You look up at Minerva, feeling dread sink down through your body.

“I knew he shouldn’t have came with us,” you whisper, swallowing thickly.

Minerva looks at the article again, her mouth thin. “He will just have to stay in the house from now on.”

You frown. “It’ll kill him.” You glance down the table at Dumbledore, currently talking to Professor Flitwick animatedly. “Maybe I can ask Dumbledore if I can go home, just for the weekend — I can’t bear the thought of him alone —”

Minerva looks at you sharply, her expression serious.

“And how do you think that will look to Umbridge? Sirius Black’s wife leaving without any explanation the weekend after he is spotted in London?”

“I’ll just say I’m going to my parents’ or something, I don’t know —”

“They will not believe you,” she hisses. “They have never believed you before, they will not believe you now. Do you wish to end up in Azkaban?”

You look back at her, biting your lip before breathing a long, defeated sigh.

Minerva gently pulls the newspaper from your grip, flicking through the pages with mild interest. You push your plate away from you, feeling nauseous and without any appetite. Why didn’t you push more for him to stay at the house that day? You were selfish, letting him come with you because you wanted to drag out your time with him as much as possible and putting him in danger. Where is Kingsley, he’s supposed to be staying on top of this, feeding the Ministry fake information and keeping Sirius out of the headlines.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter twenty-nine here!

-> all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

hi everyone, im really sorry for the huge wait!! I know how annoying it can be sometimes to have to wait long periods of time for a writer to post the next chapter, so I really am sorry for that :( I honestly don't really have an excuse, other than writer's block and a busy schedule. You all are the absolute best for your constant patience and support, i love everyone sm <3 Kisses!

a really huge thank you to my taglist loves ♡ :

@mothraantics @wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @devoid-swanky @carpe000diem @mooonyxoxo @hyperspeedo @idkman5335 @elanna-elrondiel @murielisacertifieddilf @penelopied @imgondeletedis @wooyoungsrightsock @jennifer0305 @wolfdragon0424 @lovemesomevesey

#sirius black #sirius orion black #xreader #sirius black x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #harry potter #fanfiction #the marauders #sirius black x you #fanfic #hp #wizardingworld #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic

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trashogram · 9 months ago

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He Chose You (Pt. 6)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer wants you to be the Mother of his child. Rated E bc Explicit.

((This one fought me so hard, I just wanna get it out there and I’ll proof-read it later I’m sorry.))

The first time didn’t take, as you’d come to learn 3 days post-coitus with the Devil. It had left you bereft, not exactly disappointed but also not certain if you should go out and buy 150% proof alcohol to mark the occasion.

You settled for enough wine to dull your senses before sending a text with your Hellphone. The fact that inter-dimensional phone lines were possible was simply added to the list of not-even-gonna-think-about-it of things that came with your new reality.

A blood-curdling shriek from your pocket made you curse as you dove for it.

“Hey.”

“Hey-yy!” Lucifer responded cheerfully before clearing his throat. “So it um… it didn’t work?”

“Unless being pregnant with hellspawn looks and feels exactly like my time of the month, no. It didn’t.” You said.

He sighed on the other end, air blowing through the receiver and fucking up already poor reception. “Okay. Shit. Well, maybe we can work something else out—”

“I’ll just text you when it’s over and we can try again.” You replied as you leaned back against your headboard.

“You-you wanna try again?” Lucifer’s surprise made your eyes roll.

“Yeah, just give me a couple days.” You’d felt a wave of fatigue crashing over you.

Suddenly you were boneless, barely able to even hold the phone up to your ear. Lucifer’s hesitant delight barely registered yet you could imagine him behind closed eyelids, smiling crookedly with those ivory fangs.

“Y-I-uh, ok great! That works for me if it works for you!” He practically shouted. “Do you need anything in the meantime?”

“‘Mmmmffh, a nap.” Lucidity snapped back for a moment as you eyed the phone in your peripheral. “Also please don’t call or text me. I’m gonna throw this thing out the window if I have to hear someone screaming bloody murder one more time.”

—

Lucifer being startled by the ringing of his Hellphone wasn’t at all peculiar.

However —

The sound of a love song, though tinny and compartmentalized to the King of Hell’s coat pocket, made Asmodeus perk up.

He glanced down to see his diminutive brother rush for the device like his life depended on it. It was easy to feign polite indifference as Lucifer excused himself from the cafe table for a moment, but by the time the King had returned, Asmodeus was leaning forward expectantly.

“That’s new.” He said.

Lucifer looked up wildly, as if he’d been caught snatching aphrodisiacs from Ozzie’s own stores.

“Huh, wha? What’s new?” He laughed off the embarrassment, re-taking his seat.

Asmodeous sipped from his teacup, clocking the many idiosyncrasies Lucifer displayed.

He was flustered, still gripping the phone between his claws, and had perched on the edge of his seat so that he could bounce a leg against the ground.

“Love songs aren’t your usual style, babe.” The Prince spoke casually, but his eyes were bright.

It was delightful to see Lucifer stiffen as soon as he realized what his companion referred to. One of the best about the short King was how easy he was to tease, if you asked the Embodiment of Lust himself.

“Didn’t know you were finally getting out there, Louie.” Ozzie teased. “Were you gonna keep it a secret? Even from me?”

“Oh n— out there? Me?! Ha! No!” Lucifer shook his hand fiercely. “I’m not — it’s not like that! We’re not dating! I mean, some might see it like that but a lot of others wouldn’t! She wouldn’t… probably! It’s, ya see, actually — I — ahem, ah…”

His embarrassment grew into something stranger, more conflicted and melancholy. The teasing smirk on Asmodeus’s face flattened.

“It’s complicated.” He finished, looking down at his phone as if it were the sole reason for his sudden misery.

Ozzie wasn't soft on many (in fact he’d argue that being hard was his speciality) but his brother was one of the few.

The much larger Sin rested a hand against Lucifer’s back. “You wanna talk about it?”

—

The days that followed blurred together, monotony of aches and pains broken only by an insatiable libido. It was as if the promise of sex after this, however unfulfilling it might be, was the only thing keeping you alive.

Lucifer’s bizarre consideration held up over that time, surprising you enough that when it was time to give him a ring, you weren’t as dread-filled as you could’ve been.

He did, however, arrive in your home via furnace suspiciously quickly upon making contact with you again. His normally pristine suit and and impeccably coiffed hair were ruffled and singed, like he’d made a mad dash to get to you.

“Hell-Oh!” Lucifer had practically squeaked as you dragged him out by the lapels.

You’re so pent up that it’s hardly a surprise when you find yourself sitting on his lap, having manhandled the short King onto your couch.

His cold, smooth skin was still alien, but you powered through the initial aversion to chase after that zing that came with kissing him. It was addictive, even with the fear of being cut by his sharp teeth in the back of your mind.

Despite yourself, you took a second to break away and breathe.

Beneath you, Lucifer was positively flushed. His shiny, wet lips were parted in wordless awe, and eyes glazed over in his daze.

“Fuck.” He croaked.

You smirked, gripping onto the blond hair that had already been mussed and abused by overeager hands. Pointedly, you slid back and forth on his trembling lap. There was no way to ignore the hardness at his inner thigh.

—

The first drag of his cock against your walls made you shudder, arching as your head fell back.

Lucifer whined in his seat, claws digging into the plush of your thighs. The pain heightened the feeling of being stabbed twice, making your lower belly tremble.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fffffff —” His cries were so good, you couldn’t stop from grinding down onto him. “You feel so good. So. Good. You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart. I can't.”

“That’s ok.” You slurred, hands coming up to wrap loosely around his neck. “We can work on that.”

Lucifer opened his mouth, but you were already planting kisses against the corner of lips mouth, his cherry-spotted cheeks, the line of his jaw and the pulse beneath his ear.

—

Your hands were focused on exploring the planes of Lucifer’s chest and shoulders. He wasn’t muscular — or tall, obviously, but the lithe body intertwined with yours was more than easy on the eyes.

“You can touch.” It was hardly fair that yours were the only hands busy. The ruler of Hell was flat beneath you, artificial light from your bedroom lamp casting shadows on his marble chest.

Lucifer’s mulberry-dappled lids remained low, highlighting the yellow glow of his eyes. His claws slid up your hips, reverently tracing your frame as you bounced lightly.

“If you insist, princess.”

He was more coy after the first few rounds, an easier grin sliding across his face. The trembling touches against your breasts spoke of the still-nervous creature you’d first been introduced to.

—

Daylight was waning again when you found knelt, back pressed against Lucifer’s chest. He fucked into you wildly, teeth pressed into your bare shoulder.

The thought of him biting into you didn’t sound so frightful anymore. In fact the image set butterflies off in your stomach.

That and the way he held you close, wrapped vice-like around you like a boa constrictor.

“No baby, don’t go yet!” When you squirmed, Lucifer nuzzled into the side of your neck, breathing heavy. “Just like this. Please, baby.”

He pleaded into your neck, grip tightening to where you couldn’t breathe.

—

“Here.” You guided his hand, settling it between your legs.

Lucifer’s thrusts had grown shallow and uneven, but hadn’t quite stopped. He seemed entranced, watching as you positioned his thumb over the bundle of nerves just above where you two were joined.

“Gently. Watch your claws.” You murmured along with your hands-on teaching.

When you felt he’d gotten the message, you sighed and concentrated on the circular motion against your clit. Lucifer remained attentive, moving clockwise as the pace he’d started before picked up again.

In moments you tensed, pleasure sparking along your pubic bone. It built up as your eyes closed, head tipped back as you let yourself enjoy the pressure both inside and out. Your hips jerked upward of their own accord, core trembling and cunt spasming.

Your partner whimpered at the new intensity, which only egged you on. Before you knew it, you two were rocking into a chaotic rhythm.

With slit eyes, you saw Lucifer looking down at you, flustered yet rapt over your every little response.

“Yeah?” He asked breathlessly.

You nodded. “Mm-hm.”

It was difficult. You could feel the tension in your belly contracting, the heat and pressure building against your clit. The feeling was mounting to where you couldn’t help your keens, your moans, your whimpers.

It ended with a choked sigh. You arched from the bed, head falling back as you let your legs tremble and shake around him. The convulsions pulled the Devil in deeper, and the feel of him was enough to make your eyes roll back in your skull beneath fluttering eyelids. Another gush came at the thought of being so full you could feel it in your stomach.

Lucifer watched. His face was nearly as red as the apple that adorned his hat, knocked off of your bedside table. He had the expression of someone seeing a falling star for the first time. Stunned, eyes gleaming, unable to comprehend something despite how beautiful it was.

The former Angel lowered himself to capture your mouth with his own. He pressed luxuriant kisses to your lips, all while his hips stuttered between your thighs until he was humping into you, refusing to separate skin from skin.

His release was coupled with a heated groan, muffled by the slide of your tongue against his. You were glowing inside out, warmth blooming in your core as you held onto Lucifer tightly.

—

The woman had invited you up into her tree. It was a different tree from the last, not bearing any fruit but lush with green needles and strong boughs that wouldn’t break.

She looks over her shoulder at you cheekily. “Aren’t you glad you decided to join me?”

You playfully scoff and roll your eyes. “You don’t need to be so smug about it.”

“Oh I think I do.” The blonde tilted in your direction, arms coming to wrap around you. “I won.”

You stay that way, watching the nettles shake in the passing breeze.

“Everyone loves a winner.” She says at your side.

You frown. “I love you no matter what.”

The woman sighs.

“You might not always.”

—

Light humming woke you from your doze, along with the repeated motion of something against your cheek.

It wasn’t until you’d opened your eyes that you realized it was Lucifer humming and caressing your cheek tenderly. He was nose(less) to nose with you, seemingly admiring your face slackened with sleep.

“What’s that from?” You rasped.

“Hmm?” The King stroked an errant hair behind your ear.

“It’s a movie.” You continued, repeating the notes in your head. “Right? It’s from a musical…”

“You like musicals?” Lucifer asked, seemingly surprised. Fangs poked out of his close-lipped smile, and he looked goofier than ever before.

You copied him, helpless to how silly he made everything. “What’s not to like?”

The lightbulb went off. “Oh! Cabaret. That’s where it’s from.”

“Yeah!” Lucifer moved even closer, the flat of his face pressing against your nose as he nuzzled you for guessing the right answer. “It’s kinda old, isn’t it? How’d you guess?”

“Psh, you think my threshold for pop culture is only as long as the last ten years?” You teased, arm skating down his side so that you could pinch his behind.

“Hey!”

***

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan,

Please let me know I missed tagging you!

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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colleybri · 2 months ago

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Cassian Andor taking on an Imperial garrison…

The subtle use of echoing lines in Andor (frequently right through to Rogue One) is so well done, and one example shows Cassian’s character development very clearly…

When Cassian is first being briefed by Vel about the heist on Aldhani, he reacts with horror at the news about there being an Imperial garrison nearby. Luthen didn’t mention it, and you get the sense that he might not have agreed to take on the job had he known about this extra danger . But of course, he commits and the heist is a success – of a kind.

But afterwards… he doesn’t want to do anything like that again. He wants to “win and walk away” to “somewhere warm and easy” . The irony is – his actions have helped to inspire Maarva, who refuses to leave Ferrix - while praising the actions of the “brave” “heroes” of Aldhani. She’s just indirectly praised him, and you can see that he’s delighted by a split second little spontaneous smile of pleasure that he quickly suppresses. Ouch. He’s finally done something she could be proud of, but he doesn’t want to give her a reason to stay so he has to stay quiet.

^ Awww 😞

But what’s really interesting is the editing in this masterful and moving scene. On Maarva’s words ‘If there are heroes brave enough to take on a whole Imperial garrison I’m brave enough to stick it out here” we see the flashback of 13 year old Cassian approaching the Troopers with a cudgel, revealing at long last the details of the assault that landed him in youth prison for three years and Mimban after that. The horrifying execution of Clem combined with the injustice and pain of his own punishment has not just traumatised the adult Cassian, it’s also made him somebody who will now avoid a conflict – and therefore the Rebellion– wherever possible.

‘It’s all useless… it’s better to live!’ is what he told Luthen before Aldhani, but the precise placing of the shot here is very telling.

Cassian is starting to subconsciously associate that act with bravery rather than recklessness. He hates the Empire for what they did to Clem but it has so far translated to trying to ‘live’ and ignore them as much as possible; but his teenage self wanted to fight, to get revenge. Nonetheless it was an emotional response, an impulsive act that was not thought through. This is in total contrast to the calm methodical shots of Wilmon Paak preparing the bomb at the start of Episode 12. Wilmon is balancing emotion with rationality in planning his own revenge, in an arc which otherwise is like a replay of Cassian’s own.

Later in Episode 12 Cassian hears from Brasso his mother’s last words for him - all proof not just of how much she loved him but of how much she knew him too. He does indeed now ‘know everything he needs to know and feel everything he needs to feel’. His reasoning and his emotions are now able to work together to be that ‘unstoppable force for good’. He won’t be making emotional but futile attacks like rushing armed Troopers with a stick anymore. He will think, plan, observe and react. But he will act. He is not going to walk away any more. And he’s not going to leave loved ones behind if he can help it…

…Because in a final bit of lines-linking brilliance - immediately after hearing these words of his mother, Cassian prepares to go into the hotel, via the tunnels she checked were open, to rescue Bix.

Incredulous, Brasso says: “Are you going to take on a whole garrison?”

And Cassian doesn’t verbally reply. The look says it all. ‘I’ve done it before, twice, l’ll do it again, and I’m doing it now.’

It sums up Cassian’s arc so well. From oppression, to fighting back, to running from the fight, to taking up the fight again (now an even more exact mirror of Jyn Erso’s arc too). But this time… having learnt from experience. One lesson being: teamwork matters…

…Because thanks to Brasso and the riot the Troopers are ordered out of the Rix hotel, which is the Empire’s base. Making it possible for Cassian to extract Bix, with the “Imperial garrison” deployed elsewhere. A technique so effective, it will also be used on Scarif to give Jyn, K2SO and himself a chance to reach the data files.

“Light it up …

..Make ten men feel like a hundred “

And that’s how you make a realistic hero. Cassian is somebody who learns and grows despite some bitter experiences.

Better deploy that garrison, because Cassian Andor is taking it on.

#andor #cassian andor #star wars andor #rogue one #diego luna #brasso #maarva andor #vel sartha #bix caleen #Wilmon Paak #jyn erso #orson krennic #analysis

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riekiss · 11 months ago

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🗒️ 、 NEW YEARS KISS

꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱💭 ・ 엔하이픈 x fem reader. 장르 fluff established relationship warning not-proofread kissing petnames skinship & 810 words

ru’s note ・ I WAS RUSHING TO WRITE THIS SO SORRY IF THERES ANY MISTAKES OR THAT ITS RLY SHORT FOR SOME 😭 ANYWAY HAPPY NEW YEARS !!!

Ending the year by watching your boyfriend on stage wasn’t a choice many would relish. Yet, understanding him intimately, you’d rather bask in the glow of his happiness under the spotlight.

As his performance concluded, you approached a security guard, offering your credentials and proof of connection. With a nod, they granted you access without hesitation.

The clock struck 12:30 AM, ushering in a new year. In the chilly night, you found your boyfriend cocooned in blankets, wisps of white breath dancing in the cold air.

Your heart warmed at the sight of him, a tableau of passion and dedication that made braving the late hour worthwhile.

이희승

“Hi, baby,” he called out, a radiant smile gracing his face.

“You were absolutely incredible out there,” you praised, your hands gently cupping his cheeks in an attempt to share warmth.

“Thank you, but I believe it’s time I repay your patience,” he said, draping the blanket around you.

“Hmm?”

His lips met yours, creating a timeless moment that muted the fireworks, cheers, and music. A cocoon of warmth enveloped both of you.

“Happy New Year, Yeobo,” he whispered, sealing the beginning of the year with a kiss that felt like the promise of countless beautiful moments ahead.

박종성

“Jongseong, you were incredibly cool earlier,” you praised, peppering his cheeks with kisses.

“Heh, thank you, baby,” he replied, tenderly kissing your hairline.

“Are you cold?” he asked, wrapping the blanket he once wore around your shoulders.

“I’m alright. What about you? Aren’t you cold?” you inquired, concern lacing your words.

“You know what could warm me up?” he suggested, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“What?”

“This,” he declared, leaning in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

As he pulled away, your cheeks blazed with warmth. You exhaled before playfully muttering, “Happy New Year to you, dork,” as the lingering taste of his kiss filled the air with the promise of a delightful year ahead.

심재윤

“Jaeyun-ie!”

“Princess! How was my performance? It was amazing, wasn’t it?” he excitedly exclaimed, pulling you into a joyous hug, swaying your bodies in sync with his elation.

“Eung, you were so good out there!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Oh, wait, I forgot something,” he suddenly said.

He leaned in, planting a deep, passionate kiss on your lips.

“New Year’s Kiss, hehe. Happy New Year, my princess,” he whispered, leaving the taste of celebration lingering in the air.

박성훈

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes softening at the sight of you.

“You were amazing out there, Hoon. All the ENGENEs were freaking out about you,” you laughed, recalling the cheers whenever your boyfriend graced the screen.

“I wanted to look cool in front of the person I love,” he mused.

“Oh, I know I’m a bit late, but…” he began before leaning in to kiss your lips. His movements synced with yours, unleashing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

Breaking off the kiss, he whispered, “Happy New Year, Nae Sarang,” leaving the promise of a year filled with warmth and shared moments lingering in the air.

김선우

“There’s my beautiful girl!” Sunoo called out, opening the blanket wrapped around him to welcome you inside.

“Happy New Year, Sunoo-ah” you whispered, savoring the cocoon of warmth he provided.

“Back to you baby, now c’mere,” he said, gently guiding your chin to face him.

Closing the distance between your lips, the cold weather faded in comparison to the warmth enveloping you. What a beautiful way to commence a new year.

양정원

“Jungwon-ie! Happy New Year!” you exclaimed, pulling him into a hug that he swiftly embraced.

“Happy New Year to you too, babe,” he chuckled, holding you close. He hummed in contemplation before turning to you.

“Wanna do something cliché?” he asked, tilting his head.

“What is it?” you inquired, but instead of answering, he placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed your lips deeply.

“That,” he chuckled, enjoying the sight of your flustered expression as the beginning of the new year unfolded in a sweet, timeless moment.

西村力

“There you are, love. I was looking everywhere for you,” Riki said, a small pout forming on his lips as he pulled you close into his embrace.

“Sorry, it was so crowded, so I stayed a bit far to come to you easier,” you explained, resting your head on his chest, where his heartbeat quickened in sync with your proximity.

“Hmm, I’m about... 35 minutes late,” he said, checking the time on his phone.

“To what?” you asked, puzzled by his remark.

“To do this,” he replied, leaning in to kiss your lips. His warm hands cradled your cheek and the nape of your neck.

“Happy New Year, Ai,” he whispered, sealing the moment with a kiss that marked the start of a new year filled with warmth and affection.

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autumnshighlady · 6 months ago

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I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 28)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the wedding takes an interesting turn

warnings: rhys and mor getting dragged to shreds, major cassian slander, angst, pregnancy mentions

word count: 7.7k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: all i have to say is good luck with this chapter guys lmao

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 / part 27 /

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Your stomach dropped as you saw the fury on Rhys, Amren, and Cassian’s faces. They must have come in sooner than expected, catching the tail end of the wedding ceremony.

Which is exactly what you didn’t want.

Luckily, Eris and Nesta had not noticed yet. The Night Court did not take their seats by the other High Lords, instead choosing to stand in the back of the room. So you turned back to your husband and wife, relishing in their smiles as the cheers began to die down. A simple raise of a hand from Gwyn was all it took for the crowd to seat themselves again and go quiet.

“There is one more ceremony to perform,” Gwyn said, her bright eyes shining with glee. “Lady Nesta, Lady (Y/N), please step forth.”

Eris took a step back, pride gleaming on his sharp face as you and Nesta took a step towards the crowd. The orchestra began to play again. Two guards stepped forward, and with delight you recognized Saeros and Ivar. They bowed their heads and bent a knee, each presenting a pillow with a beautiful circlet atop the purple fabric. It was golden with a white jewel in the centre, branches with jewelled green leaves, red and brown flowers, and white jewels scattered throughout. Queenly crowns of pure autumn, handmade for you and Nesta by Eris’s finest craftsmen. Excitement rippled through you at the sight of such delicate items of power.

“Do you, (Y/N) Vanserra, swear to protect the citizens of the court? To uphold justice and protect the peace? To care for the sick and healthy, the old and the young, the weak and the strong alike?”

“I do.” Your words rang with a conviction that surprised you.

Gwyn turned towards Nesta. “And do you, Nesta Vanserra, swear to protect the citizens of the court? To uphold justice and protect the peace? To care for the sick and healthy, the old and the young, the weak and the strong alike?”

“I do.” Nesta replied.

Saeros stepped toward her, and Ivar to you. You bowed your head as the guard placed the circlet on your head with grace. At first, when planning the ceremony you thought it would be Eris who crowned you, as Rhys had with Feyre apparently. “I could easily do that, but it would be better for two of the people to crown you both,” he had explained. “Rhys granting his lovely Feyre the title in private was a poor choice, as it makes it seem like she is only the High Lady because he made it so. By having Saeros and Ivar crown you, and a priestess do the ceremony, the people will be more trusting when they see someone more like them granting you your power. Not me.”

When you raised your head, beams of sunlight reflected off the jewels of the crown. It cast across the crowd with a blinding shimmer. Ivar rose to his feet, unhooking the sword from his armour and presenting it to you. The blade was long and silver, a gleaming ruby in the handle amidst the intricate metalwork. It had a glow to it, as if singing its own type of power.

As practised, you took the sword and rested the tip on the floor, holding the handle in front of you with your hands clasped firmly around it. Nesta did the same.

“With the blessing of the Mother,” Gwyn continued. “I, Gwyneth Berdara, now proclaim Nesta Vanserra and (Y/N) Vanserra, High Ladies of the Autumn Court. Long may they reign.”

The crowd echoed back. “Long may they reign.”

As the music began again and the cheers continued, you reached out and grabbed Nesta’s hand. She turned towards you, and your breath hitched at the sight of your wife in the crown. With a smirk, she nodded, and in a uniform motion the two of you hoisted your swords in the air proudly, right as Zorzimril and Athariel let out mighty roars.

The cheers increased tenfold, and your chest swelled with pride. These were your people now, the people who would come to you with their problems for help. The people you would protect, whose lives you would change and bring them out from the lingering shadows of Beron.

Eventually, Eris stepped forth once again and you and Nesta returned the swords to their positions as the various members of the other courts made their way to line up in the aisle to bend the knee. One by one, they knelt and gave the standard speech, swearing respect and acknowledging the official new High Lord and High Ladies. You couldn’t help but smile as Tamlin came forth, his blonde hair much better kept than last time you had seen him. He offered you a proud smile, bowing deeply to you, Nesta, and Eris.

Finally, the dreaded moment arrived. Rhys stepped forward, clad in a simple black tunic. His violet eyes were simmering with fury at the three of you. Amren stood beside him, disgust written plainly across her sneering face. You felt Nesta go utterly still as Cassian approached behind Rhys and Amren, his expression a mix of devastation and anger. His wings were tense, and Azriel was beside him, perhaps ready to spring into action and hold the general back. You saw Nesta’s eyes flick to Elain, who practically hid behind Azriel. She donned a black dress that seemed to suck the life from her. Her doe eyes were wide, avoiding Lucien who was sitting a few feet away from her. She also avoided eye contact with Nesta, choosing to stare at the floor in front of her instead.

For a moment, Rhys stared down the three of you and you wondered if he would even bend the knee. After a few heartbeats of tense silence, the High Lord of the Night Court took a knee with the others following suit. “I, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” He said through gritted teeth as if the words were being dragged out of him like blood from a knife. “Acknowledge Eris Vanserra as High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Another heartbeat went by, and the words all the other High Lords had said did not come. A few of the guards shifted, and Eris spoke up icily. “Go on.”

With a sigh, Rhys’s jaw tensed but he continued nonetheless. “I acknowledge Nesta Vanserra, and (Y/N) Vanserra, as High Ladies of the Autumn Court. May their reign be long and prosperous. My court stands behind you and wishes you many blessings.”

You didn’t bother hiding the smugness on your face as he rose, turning his violet eyes towards you. You did not flinch as they tried to stare you down menacingly. This was your court. Your home. And you would not be afraid.

Finally, Rhys turned on his heel to leave, Amren and Elain scurrying after him. But Cassian remained frozen, his eyes locked on Nesta. She remained expressionless, a cool mask of boredom on her face as he looked at her pathetically.

“Nesta…” The general whispered, taking a step forward. Instantly, the guards at the bottom of the dias stepped forward into a line, their hands going to the swords on their hips. The dragons also growled menacingly, creeping further forward into the throne room.

“Cassian.” Azriel put a hand on the general’s shoulder, his voice low and firm. The room was utterly quiet, the only noises being the growling of the dragons. After a moment, Cassian finally let himself get led out by Azriel, but not without one last longing look at Nesta. You let out a sigh of relief, but Nesta’s jaw was clenched with anger. You could feel her frustration seeping through the bond. It was Nesta’s coronation, and Cassian managed to make their interaction all about him.

When the Night Court finally left, the room seemed to relax. “All hail the High Lord and Ladies!” Came Lucien’s cry, and the crowd went back to happy cheering. You shot him a grateful glance, hoping that was the last you’d see of the Inner Circle. As the nature of the music grew more lively, Eris took you and Nesta by the arm and the three of you headed to the banquet tables.

*********************

Hours had passed and the celebration showed no signs of slowing down. Your stomach was full of the most delicious food you had tasted, rich wine flowing through your system and making you feel lighter. You sat with Eris and Nesta as dinner was served, taking the time to converse with your new husband and wife before after the meal where attendees were free to come up and pay their respects. At the table next to you, Lirilla, Lucien, and Helion’s party sat chatting amongst themselves. It warmed your heart to see Lirilla speaking so freely to the man she loved after all this time.

Almost immediately upon taking your seat at the elaborately decorated royal table, a familiar pair of wings peeked through the crowd and bounded over towards you. Nesta had nearly wept as Emerie bounded across the room and into her outstretched arms. She wore a midnight blue sparkling dress with no sleeves, and that white Valkyrie ribbon braided into her hair.

“Hey, High Ladies!” The Illyrian female had cheered as she hugged each of you.

“You came!” Nesta had exclaimed, blinking away happy tears.

Emerie snorted in response. “Of course I did. How could I possibly miss the wedding and coronation of two of my best friends? Besides, the look on your face when you realised Gwyn was the priestess was worth it in and of itself.”

You had baulked. “You knew?”

A mischievous glint shone in her brown eyes. Not even the bright flickering lights from the candles could outshine it as Emerie smirked. “Of course I knew. Eris swore Gwyn and I to secrecy. Who do you think helped her practise the big speech? She’s gone back to her room for the evening, but she told me to tell you we’ll celebrate tomorrow with just the four of us.”

As much as you wanted Gwyn to participate in the celebrations, you understood it was too much. She had already stepped up more than enough by hosting the ceremonies for you and Nesta in a court that had been known to treat females badly. It was a gift you could never repay. Ever the kind and doting female, Lirilla had escorted Emerie back to her shared room with Gwyn after several glasses of strong wine over an hour ago.

Despite the music and loud chatter at your table, a heavy set of footsteps caused you to turn your head, meeting the green eyes of Tamlin. He was dressed in his green robes, an elegant gold sash across his broad chest. He dipped his head respectfully as he approached, nodded to the three of you.

“Well, if you told me when you returned to my court temporarily that this would be the outcome of it all, I’m not sure I would have believed you.” Tamlin said to you with a playful whisper of a smile on his lips, large hands clasped behind his back.

“Well, I’m full of surprises.” You joked.

“That you are.” Tamlin agreed before turning to Nesta and Eris. “You’ve got yourselves an extraordinary female here. Do not take her for granted.”

Eris simply smirked, taking another swig of his red wine. “Fear not, she will be well taken care of and respected.”

Tamlin’s eyes then landed on Nesta, his shoulders tensing for a moment, perhaps anticipating a scathing comment about how he failed to respect Feyre. But Nesta simply nodded, “Thank you, Tamlin.” She said, without an ounce of contempt.

The High Lord discreetly breathed a sigh of relief before turning back towards you. “May I have a dance?”

“Of course.” You replied, pushing back your chair and standing up. Lucien, ever the gentleman, came up to Nesta and offered her his hand as well, which she accepted. With your dance partners in tow, you and Nesta were led to the large dance floor where the crowd parted ways for you. You smiled at those who offered you their blessings as you passed them, the warm reception much welcome.

As the tune changed into a waltz, you swayed side to side with Tamlin, his large hands respectfully holding you close. You glanced over at Nesta and Lucien, who were dancing as well – granted, much better than you and Tamlin. You chuckled, impressed at Lucien’s ability to keep up with Nesta. In the distance, Eris also looked rather amused, shooting you a wink that made you roll your eyes.

“So,” Tamlin said, his voice snapping you back to the present. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. “I am.”

He nodded, spinning you around once before bringing you back into the formal waltz position. “Good. I know this is your home now, but you are always welcome in Spring. Please do not forget that.”

Your heart ached at the thought of going back. “I’d love to visit, but I have nobody left there.” You admitted. “I do not think I can ever go back long term. Besides, I am High Lady now. I have duties to attend to.”

Tamlin chuckled. “Of course. If anyone can keep Eris and line and change this court around, I can think of nobody better than you. And Nesta, of course. But the moment you revealed your plan to me, I knew you could do anything you put your mind to.” He pulled away for a moment, his green eyes looking down at you seriously. “You will be a wonderful High Lady. You deserve it.”

You took a deep breath, emotion overcoming you. Tamlin was High Lord when you were born, protecting you and looking out for you when your father became ill temporarily. As a child, you had grown to view him more as an older brother than someone you bowed to. “That means a lot,” You whispered. “Thank you.”

Before he could reply, loud shouts came from the entrance, followed by several screams. In a flash, Eris was on the dance floor next to you and Nesta, and the guards drew their swords. Tamlin’s talons unsheathed themselves as he stood in front of you, while Lucien’s hand drifted towards the blade on his hip. The orchestra stopped playing, and the crowd scurried frantically to part ways, revealing two males – one with wings, and one with angry violet eyes. In the distance, two guards lay dead, blood oozing out of their chests.

Blood that dripped from Cassian’s sword.

Instantly, you reached out and grabbed Nesta’s arm. She had gone cold as ice, her body frozen as she stared with wide eyes at the Illyrian general. This was not the friendly, joking Cassian that the Valkyries had trained with. No, his face was twisted with fury, eyes so dark they were almost black as he snarled at anyone who looked at him. This was the Lord of Bloodshed, in all his glory. Behind him stood his master, the male who held his leash. Rhys had his hands casually in his pockets, as if Cassian hadn’t just killed two of your guards.

Eris stepped forward, his tone nonchalant but laced with undoubted threat. “Rhysand, I thought you and your pack of dogs had gone home to your pregnant lady-wife by now.”

“Enough is enough, Eris.” Rhys growled in response, the dark mist that had once lashed through your skin slowly ebbing from his palms, making the crowd back away even further. You tensed at the memory, stomach churning in fear. “Too long have you played your games. You are High Lord now, and have finally found a female who is willing to shackle herself to you.”

“Two, actually.” Eris quipped. “Your observation skills are quite poor.”

“You can keep (Y/N), if you truly wish. We are here for Nesta, not her.”

You sucked in a breath, grabbing Nesta’s arm even tighter. Although it seemed she barely felt your ironclad grip. She just stared at Cassian, frozen with a look of horror on her face. The tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. That horror increased as more footsteps sounded from the entrance. Amren, Elain, Mor, and Feyre approached, coming to stand behind Rhys. Feyre was clinging onto Mor and Elain for support, her pregnant belly weighing her down. Her face was pale and thin, and she looked so miserable you almost felt bad. Tamlin growled lowly at the sight of Feyre, who shrunk back a little at the sight of him. Elain made eye contact with Lucien for the first time that evening, her eyes widening at his close proximity to Nesta.

“Nesta is the High Lady of this court,” Eris said calmly but menacingly at the new arrivals. “She belongs here now. Not with you. You have no claim to her.”

“You’re wrong.” Cassian finally spoke up, his voice grated like stones being dragged across each other. “Nesta is my mate. I invoke the right to a blood duel. Come and face me, Eris. Prove you are not a coward for once in your goddamn life.”

Surprised gasps rippled throughout the crowd. The guests were safely behind the guards, but with the Night Court so close to the entrance they had nowhere to go. You were pretty sure you were going to be sick all over Tamlin’s expensive breeches. This could not be happening. After everything, you thought this day would bring a new beginning, one free from the shackles of the Night Court.

“I am not an object to be claimed at your will.” Nesta said sternly, eyes glowing silver ever so slightly.

Feyre took a wobbly step forward. “Please, Nesta.” She begged. “Come back with us. We can work things out. You belong with us, with Cassian. There’s no need for a blood duel. Just come.”

“Please, Nesta.” Elain added, although her voice seemed strained as if she were trying to remember a script. You glanced at Lucien, who was looking at his mate with surprise. But there was no affection behind his gaze, no longing or desire for once.

“This is ridiculous,” Eris scoffed. “You are embarrassing yourself. By killing my guards and demanding a blood duel, you are declaring war on my court. But I am a generous male. Leave, now. And do not return and I will forget this happened. You have my word.” Morgoth’s deep growl sounded, followed by Athariel and Zorzimril’s. The three dragons creepy back through their spot in the open wall, their large talons scraping against the floor menacingly.

“You are bound by law to participate,” Cassian growled, ignoring the beasts. “I am Nesta’s mate–”

Eris interrupted him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you though?”

The room went still, even Cassian’s sneering came to a pause. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He asked quietly.

Beside you, Nesta’s heart was racing. She grabbed your hand and squeezed it, snapped out of her trance. You could feel her confusion through the bond, adding to your own. But Eris continued. “Well, I found it a bit of a coincidence that the High Lord’s adopted brother was conveniently mated to the High Lady’s sister. How nice would that be? To have the brute was a way of keeping Nesta in line and by your side. It all seemed a little too convenient for me, so I consulted with Helion about certain spells that give similar effects to a mating bond.”

Ever so slightly, Rhysand’s smugness faltered as the High Lord of the Day Court stepped forward. His white robes shone in the candlelight as he spoke. “Eris is right,” Helion said, giving a glare at the party from the Night Court. “There are certain spells designed to mimic a mating bond. But there is always a flaw, for no spell can truly replicate such a bond.” He snapped his fingers, summoning a ball of white light. With a sweep of his arm, the light spread throughout the room and for a moment, you were blinded. But when your vision returned, you gasped.

Coming from your chest was a string of golden light. It sparkled, floating like a feather in the wind. It was connected to Nesta’s chest, and Eris’s. You gasped at the unmistakable warmth of the mating bond, now manifested in physical form before you. As you looked around, several others had gold light attaching them to another person, including Feyre and Rhys as well as Elain and Lucien.

But your gaze quickly turned to Nesta, who was staring down in awe. Instead of having two strands connected to her chest, there was a third leading to Cassian. But it was dimmer, the glow not as bright.

“As you can see, the mating bond manifests strongly,” Helion said, walking up to the line that went from Nesta’s chest to Cassian’s. “Except here. This bond is weak, frail, held together by very little. It has almost no life to it, almost as if it is not meant to be there. Which it isn’t. This is a fake bond, cast in a spell that can only be found in one book.” Helion then turned to face the Night Court, his angry gaze landing on Rhys as he spoke to him. “I offered you unlimited access to my library to search for ways to save Feyre and the babe. And you took advantage of that to find a spell that would convince Nesta and Cassian that they were mates so you had an excuse to drag her back to your court. That is a violation of something sacred we all hold dear, and I am ashamed to have ever called you a friend.”

Mor scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That’s bullshit.”

“Really?” Helion turned to Nesta. “My lady, have you ever felt what Cassian was feeling? Been going about your day and suddenly felt a rush of his emotions as if they were your own? Have you ever felt like you were being pulled to him with the force of a current?”

Nesta shook her head, the silver fire now gone from her eyes and replaced with disgust. “No.” She said simply. “I’ve felt… tugged to him. But not like with Eris or (Y/N).”

“That is because the bond is fake. It cannot properly simulate the feelings that a mating bond invokes. It is a spell cast by Rhys meant to control you.”

Even Eris was silent, but you could tell by the look on his face that he knew Helion was right, and had suspected it all along. You felt his rage inside of you, blazing like a thousand wildfires at this violation Rhys had committed.

“Rhys,” Feyre said quietly in horror. “Tell me this isn’t true.” But her mate said nothing. He merely stared ahead, violet eyes simmering at you, Eris, Nesta, and Helion. She grabbed his hand, wobbling as she broke away from Elain’s grip. “Please, Rhys.” Tears streamed down Feyre’s face as she begged.

But he remained quiet.

“Break it.” Nesta said to Helion, her voice clear as day.

“What?” Cassian finally spoke up, his eyes snapping back to the present. He flared his wings angrily.

“You are Helion Spell-Cleaver, are you not?” Nesta asked the High Lord of the Day Court, hands clenched into fists as she spoke through gritted teeth. “I said break it.”

“No!” Cassian cried out desperately, taking a step towards Nesta. Instantly, a line of Eris’s fire shot up in front of him, blocking his path. Through the flames, Cassian’s face was shattered, like a male who was about to get his heart ripped out of his chest.

“What do you mean, no?” Eris snapped, his composed image of seething patience finally gone as he shot a fiery glare at the Illyrian general. “Your bond is fake. Best get rid of it anyway so you can go back to whatever it is you brutes do.”

Cassian ignored Eris’s jibe, falling to his knees before the flames and staring up at Nesta. “Please, don’t do this.” He begged. “Even if it isn’t a real bond, it’s something. I’ve fucked up, Nes. I have treated you like shit and I should have done more. But we can work through it together. Just give us a chance, remember how you felt for me during the war? Don’t throw it all away. Please.”

Nesta simply stared blankly at Cassian’s blubbering form. There was no pity in her eyes as she spoke. “No. I do not want to be shackled to you in any way shape or form. Not because you are a bastard, or an Illyrian brute. But because I deserve better than the way I’ve been treated by you. I hope you find happiness one day, but it will not be with me.” Cassian let out a sob, but Nesta simply turned towards Helion and nodded, ignoring him. Feyre had gone silent, her eyes vacant and teary as she clearly fought mind to mind with her mate. Elain watched in horror, rubbing her sister’s back as the High Lord of the Day Court raised his arms, summoning a mighty blade of celestial light. It glowed with the strength of a thousand suns, making everyone in the room stare up in awe.

With a mighty stroke, Helion brought down the blade of light onto the rope between Nesta and Cassian, cleaving it in two.

Like a tidal wave had crashed through the room, everyone staggered back as blinding light erupted. Nesta cried out, Eris catching her as she lost her footing. Cassian screamed, hands clawing at his chest as if he could cling onto the shards of the false bond and hold them close. Tamlin grabbed you by the shoulders, steading you as you swayed from the eruption of the magic. But while Cassian continued screaming and sobbing, Nesta was silent. Her eyes were wide as her chest heaved for breaths, but she was not in agony.

In fact, it was like she was finally free.

The flames between your group and the Night Court dissipated, and the magic that revealed the mating bonds was gone. Where the false bond was between Cassian and Nesta, grey ashes now lay on the floor, the wind coming in through the windows gently blowing it away.

“It is done.” Helion said, inhaling deeply albeit slightly pale. Lucien came to his father’s side, ready to steady him if needed.

“Wonderful.” Eris quipped as he helped Nesta back on her feet. “Now that that’s dealt with, there is no need for a blood duel. Or for you to be here, Night Court. Leave my palace this instant.”

“What have you done, boy…” Amren said quietly to Rhysand. She had been silent up until now, her eyes simmering as she stared up at her high lord. “And why did you not tell me?”

Rhys spoke for the first time since Helion stepped forward, his jaw tense. “I needed Nesta back in Night.”

“Why?” Amren snapped. “If the girl wants to flounce about in autumn so be it, she’s not our problem any more. I thought you’d be happy about that. Cassian would have gotten over her eventually, so don’t say it was for him. Or for your mate, who existed with us happily without that wench. What aren’t you telling us?”

“There’s a lot he’s not telling you.” A familiar, deep voice came. From the shadows, Azriel appeared in the corner, hazel eyes narrowed as he stalked up to his High Lord. “Go on, Rhys. Will you tell them why you wanted Nesta back so badly, or should I?”

Rhys at least had the sense to look uneasy. His gaze shifted from Azriel to Feyre, who was looking at him with teary eyes. “Az… what are you doing? I thought you’d gone home…” Mor asked from beside her, wariness lacing her voice.

Azriel ignored her, twirling Truth-teller casually in his hands as he maintained eye contact with Rhys. “I did some digging of my own while you sent me to keep an eye on the mortal queens and seek out Koschei,” He said coldly. “One last chance, Rhysand. You tell them what you’ve done, or I will.”

“Azriel, if you do this you will be banished from my court.” Rhys growled, fingers curling into fists. But he was unable to hide the rising panic in his voice.

The shadowsinger merely laughed hoarsely. “I don’t care. I have no plans on going back anyways. You can kill me after this for all I care, but everyone deserves to know the truth.”

You exchanged an uneasy look with Eris, who appeared just as confused. You hadn’t heard much from Azriel since Beron’s death, only that he was making sure your friends were safe. Truthfully, you had no idea where his allegiances had been the last few weeks. But for him to confront Rhysand so boldly like this… you shuddered. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. Almost instantly after you shuddered, Eris’s warm hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him and Nesta. Tamlin shifted slightly, keeping his position in front of you with his talons out. Cassian had stopped sobbing and returned to his feet, eyes darting frantically back and forth between his two brothers.

“Rhys,” Feyre’s voice was weak, as if she had no strength left in her. “Please. Just tell us what’s going on.”

The High Lord of the Night Court turned to face his wife, teeth gritted. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.” His voice reminded you of a snake, sly and menacing enough to make Feyre flinch back.

“And what is it that you’ve done?” Amren asked incredulously.

“He sent me to keep an eye on Koschei,” Azriel spoke up again, voice lethally quiet. Nesta froze at the mention of the Death-God. “To figure out what he was planning and how he was able to bind a spell to Vassa so tightly that none of us could break it. But I found something else in my search.”

“What did you find, spymaster?” Eris asked. His attempt to come across as nonchalant failed, for his face went paler at the name of the old god.

“Rhys made a bargain with him, one that found a way to save Feyre and the baby.”

“Azriel.” Rhys barked. “Stand down.” Dark power filled the room, the kind that brought his subjects to their knees. People cried out in pure terror at the sensation.

But Azriel did not yield, did not move a muscle as he continued. “A bargain that traded one life for another. Nesta’s life, in exchange for Feyre’s.”

There was not a single sound in the room for several moments. Until a loud sob broke from Feyre, the sound echoing throughout the vast chamber. Beside you, Eris was utterly still. Too still. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it. As much as you hated Rhys, the last thing you needed was Eris annihilating him on the spot.

“You did what?” Feyre practically screeched.

But there was no guilt in Rhys’s expression as he faced her. “I said I would do whatever it took to save you. I found a way, didn’t I?”

“Not if it means killing my sister! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Feyre sobbed, and Rhys stepped towards her but she backed away, eyes wide. “How could you?”

“Tell me this isn’t true.” Cassian begged, then whirled on Azriel. “This is some fucked up lie you made up to tear us apart, isn’t it?”

“That’s not all.” Azriel said evenly, ignoring Cassian. “Go on, Rhys. Tell everyone what else you promised Koschei in return for the life of your mate and her baby.”

Nobody was moving. Nesta swayed beside you, holding onto Eris for support. Her grey eyes were vacant, as if she were far away. Even Cassian seemed to forget about Nesta and his intentions on having a blood duel, his attention focused on Rhys.

“I promised him I would ensure his safe passage into Prythian,” Rhys began, voice quiet as if he hoped the room wouldn’t hear him. “As long as he spared Velaris from his path.”

Your heart dropped. Rhysand made a deal with the death god in the lake, and would have allowed him to kill Nesta and destroy Prythian as long as his precious city was safe. Sickness churned in your stomach. He was ready to let hundreds and thousands die, many of whom were in his own court.

“You intended to let a death god of the Old World destroy our courts and slaughter us all?” Kallias stood up from his seat at the High Lords table. The others and their parties joined him, unable to hide their shock and betrayal.

“And yet you still wanted the benefits of having us as allies?” Tarquin chimed in with disgust. “My court has already suffered enough, thanks to you. How could you do this?”

Eris laughed horsley. “Am I the only one not surprised by this? Of course he would do this. Frankly, I would almost admire the dedication… if you were sparing more than a singular city.” His amber gaze landed on Rhys, pinning him to the spot. “But no. You are willing to let two thirds of your own court get slaughtered in the process. This isn’t the actions of a leader, it’s the actions of a coward who doesn’t give a shit about his people.”

“Velaris is the only good city. Illyria is a backwards and vile place,” Mor protested weakly. “And the Hewn City–”

“Has hundreds of other females like you waiting to be rescued.” Eris interrupted her, anger dripping from his words. “Do you deem yourself the only dreamer in the Court of Nightmares, Morrigan? Is it only you who was innocent? Only you who deserved to be saved?”

Mor opened her mouth to respond, but closed it quickly. She turned her attention to stabilising Feyre, who had stopped crying and was staring at Rhys as if she had no idea who he was.

“Rhys wanted Nesta back so he had her ready to hand her over to Koschei when the time came.” Azriel said. “That, Amren, is what he wasn’t telling you.”

“I don’t believe this!” Cassian insisted. “Did you speak with Koschei himself, Az? How could you possibly know this? What proof do you have?”

“Helion, there is a glamour placed on Rhysand’s left palm.” Azriel said coolly. “Unveil it.”

The High Lord of the Day Court waved his hand, and a ripple of magic went down Rhys’s arm from his elbow to his fingertips. You sucked in a deep breath as a mark was revealed, one of striking back ink like the vague outline of an eye with three prongs trickling down the bottom. The room went cold, as if death itself was somehow engraved in the tattoo.

“Mother above…” Tamlin muttered.

Feyre spoke after a moment. “So, what, you were going to just have Nesta kidnapped and shipped off to Koschei when the time was right? And expect me to not search for her and just accept that she is gone? I mean what was the plan here, Rhys? How did you think you could just do this? And let over half our court die along the way?”

“I don’t care!” Rhys shouted, causing the crowd to flinch. Fury rippled off of him as he spewed his words. “I don’t fucking care about Illyria or the Hewn City. I don’t care about the other courts, I don’t care about Nesta. All I care about is saving you, and our baby. Because I cannot live without you, Feyre!”

Feyre’s throat bobbed, and for a moment your heart ached for the High Lady. Even after everything she had done, you felt pity for her. Pity that she had been so easily manipulated by this male, and was only now seeing him for his true self. “Let me get one thing clear,” Feyre said through tears. “My life is not worth more than my sister’s. I will not have her life traded for mine.”

“It’s already done,” Rhys said, grabbing Feyre’s hand firmly. “And it’s the only way to save the baby. And you. So I’m doing it.”

“Actually,” Eris piped up. “It’s not the only way.”

Rhys’s head snapped around towards him. “What did you just say?”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Did you not get my letter inviting you to a meeting to discuss a way to potentially save the baby and your mate?”

“What letter?” Feyre asked, brows furrowed.

“We ignored it, obviously.” Amren snorted. “A viper like you cannot be trusted, how were we to know it wasn’t a trap?”

Feyre turned on the small female. “You guys got a letter saying there was a potential way to save the baby and you failed to tell me?”

“We didn’t want to give you hope.” Amren snapped back.

Before the High Lady could protest further, you decided you had enough. “Do you want to hear it, or not?” You asked sharply. Thankfully, the Night Court went silent. Even Rhys had bit his tongue.

“As I was saying,” Eris continued with annoyance. “The healers in my court have had success removing babies surgically. It has been done for centuries, and we have the best of the best. The recovery time is a bit more painful, but it would be the safest way. And we were prepared to offer that to you.”

“For a price.” Nesta interjected coldly. Elain’s eyes widened, tears evident even from where she was standing behind Mor, who was looking at her with disgust.

“You would put conditions on saving your sister’s life?” Mor baulked. “You’re vile, Nesta Vanserra.” She spat out the name like venom.

But Nesta did not falter. “Just as you have put conditions on mine. ‘Scry for us, or Elain does it. Die in the human lands, or train in the House of Wind. Have dinner with us, or we will withhold your money’. Those are some of the few ‘choices’ you have given me. It seems only fair that I extend the same courtesy in return.”

Shocked gaps filled the room, with looks of astonishment from the High Lords. Nesta was known across all of Prythian – the Kingslayer, the Cauldron-made Death Queen. You hadn’t even realised that most of the world probably thought she was living a life of peace and luxury as the esteemed sister of the High Lady. But the facade of illusion had been ripped down like curtains from an old house, and you couldn’t be happier.

“Spare me the lecture about how it was for my own good. I have no interest in rehashing everything again.” Was all Nesta said before landing her gaze on Rhys. “We will save you and the baby, but in return I want the Mask and the Harp, as well as my Made weapons you so kindly voted for me not to have. You will also leave my court alone for good, and end this incessant pursuit of bringing me back. Those are my terms, take it or leave it.”

“I’ve already sworn the bargain,” Rhys protested. “It cannot be undone.”

“Find a way.” Nesta replied coldly.

“It’s not possible.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

Rhys let out a low growl. “It will be your problem when he comes for you and your new court.”

Nesta laughed dryly. “Between my abilities, my mates’ abilities, our dragons and armies, and the Troves and the Made weapons, I am confident in our abilities to take care of it. Break the bargain, Rhysand. Find a way, I do not care what the consequences are. If you want Feyre to be saved, you will agree to my terms.”

A few minutes of silence followed. You waited with bated breath, watching as the wheels turned in Rhysand’s brain. Azriel only stared at his brother with disgust, arms crossed. You could feel Zorzimril’s presence in the background, practically begging you to let her roast the Night Court prick alive.

But this was not your life to claim.

“Done.” Rhys said through gritted teeth. “Just save Feyre and the baby. I will find a way to deal with Koschei.”

Eris clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. And to think this all could have been avoided if you had just listened to my letter. Pity.”

Rhys ignored him, turning on his heel to leave. “We should go, we have business in the Hewn City.” He spat with frustration at his party.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Azriel said nonchalantly from the corner.

Rhys froze, turning slowly to face the shadowsinger. “What do you mean, traitor?”

“I mean the people in the Hewn City already know you planned to sacrifice them to Koschei,” Azriel said dryly. “And Illyria. I don’t think you’d be very welcome. Let’s hope the wards outside Velaris are as strong as they used to be.”

“Holy shit…” You heard Helion mutter under his breath.

Holy shit was right. Cassian had gone white as a ghost, and Mor looked like she was going to pass out. Even amidst your shock, you chuckled, earning a snort from Nesta beside you. There was no need for you to try and destroy the Night Court further. It seems they would do that on their own soon enough.

“You told the lords and generals?” Fear seeped through the facade of sternness in Rhys’s voice, palpable in the air.

“No.” Was all Azriel said.

“Then who did you tell? The fucking birds?” Cassian yelped furiously.

The shadowsinger merely cocked his head. “Funny. Little birds often whisper the strangest stories.”

“You are done with my court.” Rhys said. “Don’t even bother getting your things. If you step foot in my borders again, you will be dead. Do you understand me?”

“Clear as day.”

Eris groaned. “Well, now that this is all settled, I think I’ve had enough of the Night Court airing out their dirty laundry at my wedding. Get out, now. I will send my healers to deliver the baby in three days time, at which I expect my wife’s belongings, Troves and all, to be returned.”

As the Night Court scurried out like rats, you breathed a sigh of relief. “Holy shit.” You muttered.

“Holy shit indeed.” Tamlin replied. “What just happened?”

“Koschei is coming for me…” Nesta muttered, more to herself than anyone. You grabbed her waist, pulling her close and resting your head on her shoulder. Despite her calm demeanour, you could feel the tremble in her bones.

“We won’t let that happen.” You said quietly.

“None of us will.” Came Tarquin’s voice. Him, Thesan, Helion, and Kallias all made their way over to where you and Eris stood holding Nesta.

“That’s right,” Tamlin agreed, turning to face you. “If Koschei comes for any of you, me and my armies will be there to help.”

“And mine.” Kallias spoke up, Tarquin and Helion following in agreement.

“I do not wish for open war against the Night Court,” Thesan said, a look of pity in his eyes. “But what he was willing to do to you, to all of us, is unacceptable. No longer is Rhysand considered an ally or friend. Eris, Nesta, (Y/N), you have the support of me and my court.”

“With five courts behind you, Koschei doesn’t stand a chance.” Helion insisted, coming to stand next to Nesta and playfully putting a hand on her shoulders. “Besides, I think Lady Death here could take on a Death God all by herself. We likely will just be there as cheerleaders.”

Nesta let out a laugh – a genuine laugh. It echoed like a song from the heavens, spreading a huge grin across your face. Helion, delighted with himself, laughed too. Soldiers began putting away their swords, easing the tense atmosphere.

You couldn’t help but notice how scared some of the crowd still looked. After all, the beautiful wedding had been derailed so fast and so easily they were left rattled. So you let go of Nesta, pushing past Tamlin and stepping towards the crowd. “My friends,” You began, letting your voice ring strong. “I know this evening did not go how you thought it would. Mother knows I didn’t anticipate this. And I understand the revelations tonight were shocking and unsettling, there is no denying that. But trust me when I say this: the death god will not destroy us. He will not take this court, or the lives of its people. As long as we are united, it will be Koschei who learns to fear us, not the other way around.”

Applause erupted from the crowd, and cheers began to echo in the air once again. With a wave from Eris, the music and festivities slowly resumed. With a smirk on his face, he sauntered over and pulled you in by the waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “My, my, what a lovely speech.” He purred in your ear. “I must say I love seeing you like this. High Lady looks good on you, wife.”

“Thank you, husband.” You melted into his touch, letting his warm scent envelop you.

“I might have to reward you for such bravery later.” He said.

You turned to face him, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. “I remember you saying such proclivities had to wait until after the wedding…”

Eris hummed, stroking your waist with his thumb. The act alone sent sparks through your system, igniting every nerve. “I did, didn’t I? It looks like things here are wrapping up anyways, so technically the wedding is over…” He grabbed your hand, and after saying a polite goodbye to the guests who required it, the two of you sought out Nesta, pulling her away from her conversation with some courtiers.

Irritated at first, she huffed. “What are you–”

“It’s time.” Was all Eris said. Those two words made Nesta shift instantly, the annoyance in her posture relaxing into something else.

“Really?” She said incredulously, excitement creeping into her voice.

“I don’t think I can wait a second longer.” Was all Eris replied with, making your stomach do a flip. You had fantasised about this moment for weeks, it almost didn’t feel real. Within minutes of weaving through the corridors, the noise of the party was drowned out, and Eris took out a key you hadn’t seen before to a room you didn’t recognize.

He unlocked the strange door and gently pushed you inside.

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