#Clothes are meant to fit YOU not the opposite!

[escalierssansfin]

Today I'm treating myself with some new clothes, since my body changed a bit.

Putting on heathy weight is an amazing opportunity to go shopping 😌✨️

[illyrian-dreamer]

And Then There Were None – Part 2

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

<<&lt;Part 1

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage, suicidal themes

You woke in a bed as soft as the clouds, the covers silken with feathery pillows piled beneath your neck so plush your hardly felt them. 

A level of luxury you had never known could exist – and that’s how you knew you weren't home. 

Vision a blur, the room you woke to was dim, safe from the fire that crackled at the opposite end. Your vision reeled as it took in the space around you - an obnoxiously large bedroom. 

The haze lingered as you raised your hand in front of your face - a quick way to decide between reality or dream. If this were real, someone had done an awfully good job at scrubbing the dirt from your fingernails. 

But then a familiar ache throbbed as you bought your other hand from under the covers, and a stark white bandaged wrapped tightly at your wrist. Real then, and that fae male had indeed broken your wrist. The scars from your journey were faint now, but still there too. 

You felt for your stomach under the covers then, for any signs of your lingering ailment. They had changed you - thick cotton like padding within the fresh undergarment and the softest gown you had ever felt between your fingers.

You pushed the thought of who might have changed you from your mind. Healers - you hoped. 

Your skin beneath the gown was soft and oily, and smelt of salve. The healers had done well to heal you. Good, this was good. It meant you had a chance to return home, continue your search. 

Gods – the search, your family. You had to continue.

You were alone in this room, and it was night - all good signs. Perhaps with enough strength, you might slip be able to escape unnoticed…

With a slight dizziness, you swung your legs from the bed, toes pressing to the warm, rich wood - as if they floor was warmed from within. 

You wouldn’t dare to poke your head out the door - not in a house of creatures with heightened senses. 

The windows - that was your only option to remain unseen. 

Whether it was the delirium of the events days prior or the haze of exhaustion you were yet to shake, you didn't consider escaping into an unknown lands in nothing more than a nightgown was a fools choice, mortifying at the least. But survival called, your family called. 

Padding around the postered bed, you scanned quickly for your belongings . Clothes, waist belt, knives were no where to be found. 

The cupboard was empty, safe from a long black coat made from the softest velvet your had ever felt. Tying the fabric firm at your waist, you didn’t take the time to roll the sleeves that drooped well past your fingertips - clearly made for a much taller, larger form than your own. Black was good, especially at night, helping conceal the silky cream night robe that seemed to scream find me.

If you had the time, you would have marvelled at the  wall of windows - in shapes and sizes you didn't know a glass welder could blow. Arched in a row of three, each of them had smaller panes within - still large enough to fit through, and with latches. 

Perfect. 

You fiddled with the latch, the world outside dark and unmoving with no sign of light until you cast your eyes upwards. Fingers halting on the latch, your breath knocked from you chest as you observed the most brilliant array of stars you had ever seen. 

Were these the same stars as the human lands? How was it that such magnificent beauty was concealed from your own part of the world?

Another stab of loathing for fae found you then – it seemed even the Mother was versed in reserving luxuries only for them.

The latch clicked open, and you pushed gently against the pane, the window unmoving. Frowning, you pushed again, before trying to pull it inside instead. The glass moved on smooth, oiled hinges - and that’s when the howling began. 

As loud as a pack of wolves, yet that insistent noise was instead from wind. 

Fretting at the noise, you glanced behind you in urgency. Any second now they would come, the wind as good as any alarm. So with a strong grip on the window ledge, you pushed your head through, eyes squinting through the unforgiving gales. 

The wind almost knocked you, hair immediately whipping this was and that, eyes stinging with tears as you failed to see clearly.

Scanning as best you could, you saw no stairs of landings to climb to, no balcony from which you could hope to escape. 

And then you looked down.

It was instinct to back away, so fast that the back of your head knocked against the pane, and a quick profanity escaping your lips. 

You had never been so high up before. Never knew anything could be built so tall. 

With a roll of your stomach, you forced your head back out, avoiding looking anywhere below the horizon.

On the far left, hidden mostly by brick, was a distant glow of a city, the lights warm and flickering with glorious life. And between you and it - a river, it’s water the blackest of blacks in the night, besides from the reflection of the city that budded it’s banks. 

To your right - dark, intimidating forms of mountains and peaks. And with a quick flash below, far, far below, there was only night. 

Your gut lurched both from the height and realisation - it was suicide to try and escape. 

It took a moment to force your rigid muscles to push yourself back inside the room, hair strewn over your face and cheeks pink from the bite of the cold. 

“We don't usually advise opening the windows here,” a melodic voice spoke over the wind. 

Hissing in fright, you whipped your head behind you, to the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And beside her - the same blue siphoned male, his eyes aglow with hazel. 

You fished for your voice then, strained in your throat from days of not speaking, the rush from the wind and the awe of what and who stood before you fighting for silence. 

They were am incredibly handsome couple. 

Folded clothes in her hand, the blond simply placed the outfit on a spare reading chair, moving lightly to re-hatch the window behind you. You almost sighed in relief as the piercing howling stopped. 

“The windows are charmed to block out the noise,” she explained, her tone light and friendly despite the step of caution you took to distance yourself. “Well, don't you look good in black,” she perked, brown eyes scanning you, her smile sincere.

You looked down, the fabric of the coat drooping from your frame. 

“I stole this,” you said dumbly, before cursing yourself silently. 

The women laughed, and you could have sworn a slight smile pulled at the males lips too. 

“That’s quite alright, besides, you were awake before I could deliver you some proper clothes,” she gestured to the set she bought in, but you were fixed on those golden locks, the way they bounced when she moved, and that dress…

“I’m Morrigan by the way, but you can call me Mor.” If she caught you staring at her, she did not let on.

You frowned, senses returning, and you scanned the room again. Formalities, names, nicknames –completely unnecessary, unless…

“I must carry on with my search,” you said sternly, eyes darting between her and the blue-siphoned male. 

He knew. He would have told her.

Those large, towering wings pulled in tighter against his frame, and the male opened his mouth to respond. But Morrigon beat him to it. 

“You’re awake much earlier than the healers expected. They advised you may need a few more days rest.”

You tried to hide your panic, eyes scanning her, then the door, then where Azriel stood between it. 

Mor traced your eyes. “We are no threat to you,” she said gently.

You swallowed. “Then I am free to leave?”

Mor schooled her face into something softer, more sympathetic. “You may want to meet with out High Lord and Lady. I know they are eager to meet you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “They wish to discuss your predicament.”

“Have they found my family?” you all but blurted, heart thundering with anticipation.

She shook her head then, her face falling more grave. “I’m sorry, I haven't any news.”

A gnawing at your stomach then - something was wrong. How long had they kept looking, had they found anyone? 

“How many days was I-?"

“Four,” the male answered, hands still clasped behind his back. There was no smile on his face, but it remained soft. 

“And up and about well ahead of the seven days the healers predicted! Quite the fighter you are Y/N,” Morrigan chirped.

You almost jumped at the use of your name. And then a scowl fixed on your face.

“My apologies!” More gasped quickly, and you missed the glare Azriel threw her way, Mor’s eyes meeting his with guilt. “Please forgive me, I forget that humans aren't accustomed to-"

“Mind reading?” you gritted, more exposed under the ridiculous ensemble of clothes you wore. You wish you could drown in the lengths of extra fabric. 

Mor wore a broken smile. “Of sorts, yes.” She paused then, fretting to fill the silence. “Would you like to change your clothes? They should be to your size.” 

You looked at the set neatly folded at the chair. 

“The healers have washed you, but we can draw you another bath if you’d prefer?”

Your cheeks reddened at the question, the male’s eyes politely finding somewhere else in the room to fix that gaze.

Was this their way of telling you that you smelt?

Humiliated and frustrated, your eyes narrowed on the male. “What is your name?”

Hazel flicked back to you, and he took a moment of silence to observe you before answering. “Azriel.”

You eyed him up and down, taking him in fully. Tall, large, muscled - your attempts to stab him would have been laughable. Delirious indeed. 

As he eyed you back, his gaze fixed your wrist, even while concealed beneath the velvet coat. “I am sorry to have hurt you.”

Civilised - far more civilised than you would have expected fae to be. 

You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose I’m sorry for my attempts of murder.”

His mouth pulled into a polite smile, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the firelight. 

Mor chimed in then. “They told me you caught Azirel off guard, Y/N. Like I said - quite the fighter. Not just anyone can catch the Shadowsinger by surprise.”

Shadowsinger. As if at their mention, the furling, smoky shadows peaked from Azriel, and you let out a small yelp. It seemed it was your turn to be surprised. 

Without a whisper of a word, they withdrew into the Shadowsinger himself, as if scolded back into place. Azriel gave no hint of amusement as he kept watching you. 

Your eyes danced from him back to Mor, cheeks once again redening. 

“This is… overwhelming,” you admitted. 

Mor gave you a sympathetic smile, before placing a delicate, manicured hand on your shoulder. “A bath, then?”

You nodded, and she led you to the bathroom, candles lighting with the wave of her hand, and water now filling the marbled pool, steam quick to fill the room. 

You forget about Azriel in the other room as Mor closed the door behind her, marvelling at the arches and architecture, a new set of large windows in this room, this time facing the city. You padded there mindlessly, watching the twinkle of the town that beckoned. 

“Velaris,” Mor came to stand beside you. “Or, the City of Starlight. It’s location is well concealed, unknown by the other courts.”

You were reminded of the courts then, the brief lessons they had taught you at school. The divide of seven different courts, each ruled by a High Lord determined by their magic gifted the Mother and bloodline. Allies, enemies – it was complicated twining of politics and power. 

But you had never heard of Velaris. 

“This place is a secret?”

Mor nodded. “The true home of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. A paradise they keep concealed, untouched by others.”

“Why?”

Mor chewed her cheek. “It’s safer this way,” she said simply. 

“And you trust me with such information?”

Mor’s brown eyes warmed, but something sadder hid behind them. “It doesn't seem fair to lie to you about your own whereabouts.”

You nodded, eyes finding the city beyond again. “You mentioned the High Lord and Lady want to meet. Rhysand and Feyre?” Your head ached at the strain to remember their names, but the information found you. 

Mor smiled at their names, and you remembered the way the males had too when they first found you. Loyalty coursed through them like some kind of magic. If you wanted to survive, you would be sure to respect their hierarchy. 

“Morrigan,” you swallowed, bracing yourself for an answer. “Please, what do you know of the search?”

Mor stiffened, pausing for a moment. “The High Lord and Lady are on their way home to meet with you. They will tell you all they know.”

You eyed her carefully, your heart straining. “They haven't found my family, have they?”

Mor’s face of sympathy was beautiful, whether schooled or real. “I’m sorry, I really can not tell you.”

You swallowed once before nodding, eyes casting out to the city of Velaris, the name foreign in your mind.

“They are travelling as fast as they can, and should be here within a few hours,” she reassured. How or where from you didn't bother to ask. 

“A bath then,” you nodded.

Mor smiled tightly. “Should you need anything, just ask. This house - the House of Wind - is just as alive as you and I. You should only have to speak what you wish.”

You nodded, hiding the overwhelming thought of a magical living house as the pool of warm scented water beckoned you with furls of steam.

“A fitting name,” you murmured, remembering of the persistent howl that waited just outside those obnoxious windows.

Mor grinned, catching your every word. “Isn’t it just,” she called and she fluttered from the room, pulling the large, carved door closed behind her. 

You took a few moments of silence, again scanning the marble-splayed room you now found yourself in. Dream or reality, you were still yet to be convinced. 

That was, until your dropped your undergarments, the thick wads of cotton stained with specks of bright, fresh blood. A saddened whimper escaped you, and your hands instantly found your belly, phantom cramps pulling from within. 

You thought about calling for Morrigon, to demand an answer or to see a healer again. But deep down you knew, and that instinct to protect yourself, your privacy, was greater. 

A waft of essential oils blew your way, as if the house was beckoning you to bathe. Toeing the water, each of your muscles seems to relax and steam clouded around you. An uncontrollable sigh left you as you moved deeper and deeper, breasts bobbing beneath the water, the muscles in your abdomen glad for the relaxant. 

You had never had a bath like this, never indulged in such a level of luxury. Was this how all fae bathed, or just the ones so closely aligned with royals?

It was a jarring comparison to the tin bath in your family home, the steam quick to escape from the batches of hot water your mother boiled in the kettle when you were young. As you grew older, you would often forgo using the kettle, bearing the bite of the cold for efficiency, only treating the children when you bathed them.

A shock of panic found you as the pool dipped even deeper, and you shot from your toes back to the scooped edges of the pool, clinging to the edge. Obviously built for creatures much taller and larger than you, while you on the other hand had never learnt to swim. Not when your parents were so busy, and the creek behind your home merely ankle deep.

Bathe, change, and then you would have your answers - you reminded yourself. So you scrubbed with determination, dipping your head beneath the water and rubbing the pads of your fingers at your scalp too, washing away any remains of the taxing journey it took to get here. 

You would start your search fresh, start anew, even swallow your hate for fae if it meant the help of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. You could drink their wine and pass pleasant smiles if it meant they would aide you, if it meant your family returning home safely. 

———— 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the black tunic and pants gifted by Mor fitting better than any of your skirts and dresses back home. The fabric was soft yet thick, protecting you from the cold, even while the House of Wind seemed to warm from within. 

There were slippers waiting by your bed, black also, and your skin seemed to glow from the oils from the bath. The face staring back at you was clean, yet tired, the bags under your eyes still a swell of purple. Forcing your shoulders back, you forced a stance of determination. You could do this, you could meet with the most powerful creatures of Prythian, and you would convince them to help you.

With a gentle knock at the door, a voice called. “It’s Mor.”

“Come in,” you answered turning from the mirror, hands finding the pockets on your pants.

Her eyes warmed at the site of you. “Black certainly does suit you,” she repeated, and you wondered about the comment from earlier. Loyalty to black, it seemed, was also a part of their strange culture. Perhaps something to do with the Night Court, and you wondered if the other courts found such ties to certain colours. 

“Thank you for the clothes. I will return them once-"

Mor raised her hand dismissevely. “We’d hear of no such thing. Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Are they?”

“Rhys and Feyre arrived a half hour ago. They await you in their office.” 

Mor seemed to want to take your hand, but rethought it, and instead raised a palm to the door. 

“Follow me,” she hummed before striding for the door, red gown trailing behind her. 

With a deep breath, you followed in silence.

————

“Here she is,” Mor cooed musically as she pushed the doors open to the office, the High Lord and Lady stopping their polite conversation with as they turned to take you in. 

Your knees almost buckled under their gaze.

That power, even as a human you felt it from many steps away, steely blue and violet eyes seemingly pinning you to your spot. A heavy dose of intimidation overcame you and your body faltered, even though their eyes remained soft, their smiles friendly. 

They both stood, Rhysand donned in a neat black suit, Feyre’s dark gown falling from her frame like liquid night. Gorgeous – an absolutely gorgeous sight the both of them were. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Feyre spoke, her voice and as smooth as Morrigon’s, yet younger. 

“Welcome to our home,” Rhysand added. 

Blinking between the two, your knees almost groaned as you forced a curt bow. “Thank you, High Lord and High L-Lady,” you stammered. “For your hospitality.”

You waited for any sign of compliance from your bow - knowing that fae spoke a language of hierarchy and formality. 

But your were instead met with an informal sideways smile of Feyre. “Please, call us Rhys and Feyre.”

You nodded, although you couldn't see yourself respecting that wish. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Rhysand asked, violet eyes piercing, refusing to leave you. “We were told you had survived almost a fortnight on your own. That is very impressive.”

You weren't sure you’d ever get used to the unblinking ways of the fae as you blushed at his compliment. Had their parent’s never taught them it was rude to stare?

The smallest of smiles tugged at Rhys’s lips.

But you muffled your thoughts, forcing yourself to answer. “Feeling much better, thank you High Lord. You swallowed tightly, fishing for the right words to say. “And to your healers,” you added with rush. “Thanks to them too.”

“I am glad,” Rhysand smiled, moved back into his seat and gesturing for you to do the same.

“I’ve informed Y/N that you would update her on the search for the humans, to explain your own findings.” You could have kissed Mor for steering the conversation, desperate to hear what the High Lord and Lady had to say. 

Feyre immediately began fiddling with the fingers, before Rhysand took them in his own hand. You observed closely at the small interaction, Feyre’s nervous fidget, Rhysand’s immediate response. They seemed to speak na unspoken language.

Not good, not good, not good. Your nails instinctively settled into familiar wounds at your palms.

“Of course,” Rhysand answered, his beautiful features schooling into something more serious as his voice softened. 

Feyre’s eyes found you then, something like regret and sorrow burrowed within. In that moment alone, their difference in upbringing was at contrast. Rhys - ever the schooled socialite, tamed and controlled behaviour from years of perfecting courteous mannerisms. Feyre on the other hand – human, child-like sincerity shone through despite her pointed ears and occasional glimpse of canines. 

“I’m sorry to say that we have not found your family Y/N,” Rhysand said straightly. 

You nodded, assuming that had been the case. That didn't stop the sting in your eyes, or lurch of you gut. You clamped your lips against the wobble that already threatened.

“The truth is, we haven’t found a single human since finding you.”

Instantly the room began to reel, Rhysand and Feyre tipping slightly as your heart skipped to an irregular thunder. 

How could this be? You had been asleep for four days, between their armies and winged beings among them, how could they not find a single other? Your mind screamed a flurry of questions, but your remained stiff, only moving to grip the arms of your chair. 

Rhysand sighed then, glancing once at his mate who’s look of regret only deepened, tears shining in those grey-blue eyes. 

“It is with the deepest regret that we inform you we have traced a powerful magic from the lands of Hybern. A spell, rather.”

You forced your voice past the lump in your throat, past the bile that swarmed in your mouth. “What spell is that?”

Tears spilled from Feyre’s eyes, whatever control she had on her breaking into unmistakable grief. 

No, no don’t say it - your mind screamed. 

“As spell to kill all humans,” she whispered. 

You blinked. And the others watched, waiting.

You blinked a few more times.

"What did you say?"

Rhys's frown was pained. "It seems Hybern was intent on capturing your lands, and used a magic so strong it expelled humans..."

But Rhys's voice grew muffled as your vision narrowed, clouding with darkness.

And then it hit you.

It was as if someone had pulled the floor from underneath you. The room tipped unforgivably, vision blurring and stomach lurching with the lack of food in days.

A broken noise escaped you.

“Y/N, you must breath,” a voice spoke.

Panicked, laboured breaths wheezed from you, and you clenched your eyes shut past the horror of what they had told you.

Meek breaths passed your chest as you tried to speak. “I don’t-how, I don't understand.”

“Hybern has access to the cauldron, and we believe he used it to seize the territory of human lands.”

“It worked then, then spell? They’re gone?” You voice was hoarse, breathy with distraught. Tears had not found you yet, only an overwhelming dread laced with a flicker of denial.

Even while the room danced around you, you caught Rhysand’s tight nod, his face grave and solemn. “We are so sorry.”

Mor’s hand was gentle at your back, as an all consuming anxiety took over and you clutched at your head.

“Please do not touch me,” you rasped, audible wheezes catching in your throat.

Immediately her hand lifted.

“Dead, then,” you swallowed another rise of bile, raising frantic eyes to Feyre.

Broken eyes locked with yours. “I’m so very, very sorry Y/N” she whispered.

“My family, my siblings? Dead?”

She was crying, but you didn't care. You waited for the answer. All she offered was a nod. 

A broken, crazed laugh found you then. It was a cold, lonely thing, and you caught Mor exchange a look with her High Lord. There was nothing they could do except watch as you ran shaking hands over your face. 

You were trembling, eyes dancing frantically. No. No no no. This was unbelievable. You didn't believe them, you refused to.

“Impossible,” you scoffed.

“We wish it were, Y/N truly,” Mor said softly.

“Then pray tell, how it is that I survived?”

“We’re perplexed by you remaining, Y/N. We have no answer for it,” Rhys offered, a tanned hand stroking at Feyre’s back in practiced comfort. 

“Liar,” you snarled, standing so quickly your chair fell back. 

Liars - the lot of them, to tell you of the extinction of humans when you sat there alive and well in their home. 

Rhys’s eyes pinned you, as if expecting your outburst. “I can’t begin to imagine your grief Y/N, but we tell no lies.”

“I don't believe you,” you spat, hands curling into trembling fists. “You wish to keep me here, to trap me!” Anger rose within you. Typical fae tricks and fibs, that's all this was. 

“I would have thought the same thing if I were still human,” Feyre coaxed, wiping at her eyes. “I don't blame you for not trusting us. I truly wish we were lying.”

Something in her sincerity knocked you, cracking at your anger, demanding you to consider their words true. 

But your shook your head stubbornly, crazed by their audacity, distancing yourself from the devastation that loomed underneath.

“I will not stay here and listen to this.”

You heeded for the door, pulling on the handles with trembling hands, only to find that blue siphoned male waiting on the other side. 

Azriel.

His arms were neatly tucked behind his back, legs wide and ready as if waiting for you.

If only you had your knife.

“You will let me leave,” you all but growled, eyes darting from behind him back to his frame, looking for your way out. He bore no weapons this time , but it wasn't as if he needed them.

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I can’t.” His voice was soft and steady. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

Your fists clenched tighter. “I don’t care! I will not sit here prisoner, I need to find the truth for myself.” 

You made to step around him, but those rippled hands gripped you, from the shoulders this time. 

“Let go of me!” You struggled against him, but his grip remained strong.

“Listen to me. Hybern has sent an army and they sweep the human lands as we speak. I saw it for myself – if they find you, they will kill you.”

The integrity in his voice, deep down you knew he was telling the truth, even if you refused to believe it. Because believing it meant you had lost everything, everyone. It meant the cruelest punishment from the gods - not another day with the laughter of your siblings, the caress of your mother or hold from your father. No home, no love, no warmth - just a bobbing existence, with grief as your only friend. 

Perhaps that’s why you started sobbing, still trying to pry Azriel’s hands from you with his own. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care!” you cried, voice breaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I want my family!”

Azriel cast a worried look back to the others who could only watch with pained expressions. 

Mor sprung into action, fetching a blanket from a nearby room.

“You are liars, territorial murderers, the lot of you! How could you let this happen?” your voice was hoarse once again, your knees buckling as shock took over. 

Azriel moved with you, gently bringing you to the ground as you wept, your legs folding underneath.

The blanket was strewn around you gently, Azriel’s touch surprisingly tender. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a strangely soothing balm against your turmoil. "I wish things were different. But your safety is paramount."

You wanted to fight against it, to push and claw and burrow in the bubble of denial, but you hadn’t any energy left.

Waking to an empty home, to empty streets, days of travel without another human in sight – perhaps you knew all along that this nightmare was real.

The room continued to spin as reality sunk in. Your family, gone. Your siblings, so young, so innocent. The humans wiped clean from the world. A full scale genocide, and you were the only one to survive it. 

"They were children," you wailed, your words a harrowing cry. "They were only children."

Injustice, isolation and grief was leaden on your chest, so constricting and heavy you thought you might die. 

“I-I can’t breath.” One palm braced on the wooden floor, the other against your heart as you began to pant. Eyes darting between the fae that watched on, you clutched at your chest, panic swarmed with bile. 

And then you made sick. 

Azriel's grip didn't falter, and someone moved to pull the hair from your stinging eyes. 

"Try to focus on your breathing, Y/N," a voice coaxed in your mind, male or female you couldn’t tell. "In and out, slowly."

But the air felt thick, suffocating, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you. Each breath seemed to be a struggle against an invisible force, and panic tightened its grip around your heart.

That voice in your head again. ”Just keep breathing," it said gently, the voice cutting through the haze of your panic. "Focus on my voice. You're safe here, I promise."

The words were like a lifeline in the storm raging within you, and you clenched your eyes shut, clinging to it.

Rhysand approached cautiously, his expression a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. "Az," he prompted, and the male raised from his knees.

Rhysand crouched down in front of you, his gaze unwavering. "We'll explain everything after you've rested Y/N, I promise," he said, his voice carrying the weight of truth.

And as the room slowly ceased its relentless spinning, you found yourself clinging to that promise, holding onto the hope that amidst the devastation, there was still a path forward, however uncertain it may be.

The world outside was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and threats you couldn't begin to comprehend. And Hybern. He had killed your family. Your siblings, those sweet innocent children who you loved so dearly. Your parents too.

Sobs wracked through you again, your body giving out as you let out a muffled whimper of grief.

Strong arms slid from under you turning you over to cup you by your arms and knees. And then you were being carried, away from that horrible scene, from the mess on the floor where your world came crashing down. 

You clung to whatever you could, the blanket, Azriel’s shirt, you didn't really care – but you clung and cried. Even when you were again met with the softness of a mattress, even when the weight of the duvet being drawn over as it settled against your skin. 

In that tumbleweed of devastation, a rippled hand soothed you, coaxing you to sleep. You gladly let it, letting the horrors of the world slip away, even if only for a moment. 

“Just rest now. You are safe.”

And with a final thought, you sent a prayer to the Mother to not wake up to this nightmare.

A/N: Hey pals, thank you so so much for the love and support of Part 1!! I sincerely hope you liked part 2! <3 <3 Now would you like some fries with that angst? Because it'll only get darker from here. Again, I'll tag everything I can at the top of the fic, but please have a look at the warnings ahead, I would hate to hurt anyone <3 <3 If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, drop a comment! Thank you so much for reading, mwa!!

[fictionalwh0ree]

May i please request Billie x super girly/soft reader? They were friends for years and recently started dating and everyone has always questioned their relationship since they're polar opposites? Tysm!

pink bows- billie eilish

summary: you and billie are completely different, but thats what makes you great. unfortunately, not everyone sees it that way. when some of the hate gets too much, billie knows how to comfort you. word count: 1.4k warnings: none

billie eilish was indubitably the most gorgeous girl you’d ever seen. with the perfect balance of masculine and feminine energy, the perfect balance of cocky and humble, it was hard not to fall for her. you’d known since the moment the two of you became friends that you liked her in a more than just friends way. nothing had happened between the two of you until a couple months back, and when she publicly came out, she also revealed your relationship to the world.

people had known about your friendship, her posting you frequently on her story. people always replied, saying you guys were goals, your contrast being perfect. see, while billie opted for baggy clothes and a hat, you always leaned towards a tank top and a mini skirt, or a nice dress. you always stood out by her side, especially when you wore pink, which was usually. whether it was a pink purse or some detailing on your clothes, you always had it on. you loved the support you got from her fans. they were a light amongst all the hate you received as well.

so, when billie posted a photo of you two kissing, and then when she took you to the grammy’s as her date, you expected more support than what you’d got. besides the blatant homophobia, your dissimilarity had gone from something that made you “goals” to something that got in the way of dating. you received many messages saying things like “what do they even have to talk abt?” or “they literally have nothing in common, this has to be pr.”

you focused your energy on ignoring the comments, taking moments to appreciate the supportive fans who seemed overjoyed with the announcement. when the hate seemed to slow down, billie posted you again. this time, the two of you were matching, both of you in pink tshirts. billie’s shirt was baggy and paired well with her jeans, while yours was a tighter fitting tank paired with a jean skirt. despite all the positivity, new hate comments were coming in. people accused you of trying to turn her into you, saying you were taking away from her style. this was only on one end of the scale, your dms had become flooded with death threats too.

it started to become a lot. you started to pull away from billie a little, taking a little longer to answer her messages, making excuses to not see her, avoiding being in any photos she took. you couldn’t avoid her forever, though. billie wasn’t stupid. being new to the relationship meant you were both afraid to have serious discussions, worried about how it would turn out. on your side, you were scared that billie would think you were stupid or weak for letting the haters get to you. on her side, she was scared to ask what was wrong, worried that you’d either fallen out of love with her or that she’d push you too far.

the last straw was when you finally made plans with her to go get food. she stopped in your driveway, knowing you were probably strapping your heels or running back for your keys that were adorned with a pink bow, and pulled out her phone. she didn’t even realize when you’d walked out of the house until you pulled open the car door. she looked up at you, smiling, until she took in your outfit. you were in simple jeans with a black long sleeve, basic shoes, your hair down, and no makeup. there wasn’t a hint of pink, or girliness, in your outfit. her smile faltered and she tilted her head to the side in confusion. you planted a kiss on her lips in greeting.

“hey,” you said.

“hi,” she said back, uncertainty still evident.

“whats wrong?” you asked, knowing full well what was up.

she started the car, beginning the drive before she spoke again.

“uhm, nothing,” she said, “its just… i’ve never seen you in an outfit like this.”

“do you not like it?” you asked, worried, “i-i just wasn’t feeling the pink.”

“no no, you look great baby,” billie objected, “but, you weren’t feeling the pink? i never thought i’d hear that from you.”

“does it matter?” you snapped, “we’re just going to get food. sorry i don’t wanna put on a dress and heels.”

you crossed your arms, looking out the window. you heard billie sigh and if you would’ve been looking, you would’ve seen the way she bit her lip in thought and glanced over at you, plotting her next words.

“y/n whats been up with you recently?” billie asked nervously.

“what do you mean?” you said.

“well, i don’t know, you just haven’t been yourself recently,” she took a breath, considering whether or not she’d say what had been on her mind.

“do you- do you not like me anymore or something?” she said, eyes flicking between you and the road.

“no, no, billie, thats not it. i promise,” you said, turning to face her while grabbing her hand off the console.

“okay,” she said, smiling a little out of relief, “then what is it? and don’t say nothing.”

“honestly,” you breathed out, “i was just trying to fit in with you more.”

“fit in with me more?” she asked, confused.

“i don’t know, it feels kind of stupid to say,” you confessed honestly.

“it’s not stupid, baby, i promise. just tell me,” she comforted, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“well, ever since we went public, i’ve been getting all these comments and dms about how i’m taking away from your style when we match, and how we don’t match, and how we look like a pr stunt because i dress in pink and girly and you don’t,” you said, looking down.

“i guess i just got tired of it. i want people to see us and know we’re together, for real,” you muttered.

“y/n,” billie said, squeezing your hand, “how could you call that stupid?”

“i just shouldn’t have let the hate get to me,” you said.

“its not your fault,” she said, finally arriving at the restaurant drive through.

you sat still for a moment as she ordered the food and picked it up. she parked in the parking lot, finally looking over to you for more than a second.

“y/n, i like your style. i don’t want you to change, for me or for anyone else. part of what makes us work is that we’re different. i know its annoying having people think it isn’t real, but we know the truth, that’s what matters,” she said, taking your hand in hers and placing a kiss on the back again.

you looked at her, biting your lip shyly. you smiled slightly, trying to fight it a little, but it was hard. your cheeks were burning as you looked at her.

“there’s that pretty smile,” she cooed, smiling back at you.

“i love you,” you said.

“i love you more,” she replied, leaning over the console to kiss you on the lips.

she snagged your house keys from the cup holders in the middle, untying the pink ribbon that adorned it.

“give me your hand,” she spoke.

you offered it to her and she gently picked up your left hand, carefully tying a bow on your ring finger, making you blush harder. you quickly rooted through your own bag, finding and untying the pink bow that was on your car keys.

“give me yours,” you said.

she gave it to you, and you tied the ribbon on her ring finger, just as she had done to you, before leaning over to kiss her lips briefly. you pulled away, holding her hand and admiring the two pink bows, knowing one day those bows would become rings.

“lets go,” you said.

she pulled out of the parking lot and as she drove, you snagged a picture of your hands, one that was sure to become a wallpaper, a constant reminder of your love and how it transcends what anyone thinks.

[clockwayswrites]

I totally didn't write this with a fever.

wc: 815, Masterpost, Shopping Montage

“What do you think, parrots and way too many leaves or palm trees and waves?” Danny said, holding the two horrifically patterned Hawaiian shirts up in front of him.

They were standing in one of Crime Alley’s better thrift stores. While Danny had agreed to let Jason buy him some clothing, he had insisted it be at thrift stores. He wasn’t ‘going to let Jason spend that much money on clothing’, he claimed.

Jason figured that meant that Danny hadn’t clocked who he was yet.

Danny waggled the offensive shirts again.

“Tuesday…”

“Ah, I see, clearly it is option number three then,” Danny said somberly before dramatically pulling out a third shirt behind the other two and, “unicorns, rainbows, and hibiscus!”

It was eye searingly bright— like a pack of highlighters had thrown up on it— and clearly whoever had designed it had never seen an ungulate, rainbow, or hibiscus flower in their lives.

“No. No, you are not getting that because I am buying it for my fashion disaster of a brother. He’ll love it.”

“Really?” Danny asked, nose wrinkling adorably as he looked down at the shirt in his hand.

“Trust me, if you knew him, you wouldn’t be doubting it.” Besides, it stopped Danny from getting it even as a joke.

“Huh. Sounds like some brother.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jason said, taking the unicorn shirt and hanging the other two up. “Why don’t we start with pants. Three pairs at least.”

Danny scrambled after Jason. “Three pairs? That means I’d have four if the blood comes out.”

“It will come out.”

“Then that’s four! And that’s way too many.”

“One pair for every two days and a back up pair if you don’t get laundry done or lose another pair to a rogue attack,” Jason explained, finding the jean section. “What size are you and what type do you like. Baggy, boot cut, skinny?”

Danny stared down at the tables of jeans, looking more than a little lost. “Um, blue? Blue is good?”

“Disaster, Tuesday,” Jason said. He sized Danny up before picking out a half dozen jeans and shoving them at the other. “Try these on.”

“Jason, I really don’t—”

“Tuesday, I’m getting you three pairs of jeans. You might as well at least make sure they’re comfortable. Go try on the pants. If these don’t work, we’ve got others to try.”

“I, um, okay,” Danny said with a little nod and disappeared into the fitting booth.

As Jason grabbed another few pairs of pants, he had to wonder when the last time that Danny actually went shopping was from how he was reacting. Having to try on the jeans to make sure they fit was pretty basic. Hoping to make sure Danny really had enough clothing, Jason grabbed a few shirts to add to the pile. Mostly he stuck with basics, but he tossed in a few shirts that seemed nerdy in a way that an engineer might like. He pushed the pile under the edge of the fitting room curtain with his foot.

“What— I don’t—”

“Just be good and try on the shirts,” Jason ordered, as gently as he could, then he leaned against the wall opposite of the little line of changing booths to wait.

The sound of the curtain pulling open had Jason looking up from his phone. Danny stood just inside the booth, tugging down at the hem of the dark red henley where it set over the navy skinny cut jeans.

Danny shifted on socked feet. (Jason made note of the holes in the toes.) “I don’t know if…”

“Gives me a spin, Tuesday,” Jason said, tucking his phone in his pocket. “You act like you’ve never gone clothes shopping before.”

“Been a good few years,” Danny drawled, but spun as he was told. The pants did surprising favors for Danny’s ass for being thrift store pants.

“Never had that sudden growth spurt?” Jason teased.

Danny huffed. “I’m a short king.”

“Well, your Majesty, put both those in the yes pile and go try on some more.” Jason shooed Danny back into the booth with a wave. “When you’re done, we’ll grab you a pack of socks and boxers from the Dollar Tree next door— no arguing— and then I’ll show you the best diner in Crime Alley.”

“Am I going to have to let you pay there too?”

“Yep, so be a good figure head of a dated governmental system and hush.”

“Or it will be the guillotine for me?” The question was muffled as Danny changed.

“You’re too pretty to lose your head,” Jason said. “It would be the dungeons with you.”

Danny cleared his throat after a pause. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason said with a chuckle and a determination to ignore that mental picture. “Now come on, show me the next outfit.”

-----

AN: And Dick wore that unicorn shirt far, far too often.

Hopefully it's coherent despite me being sick. The start of this came to me as I was trying to sleep with a 102ish fever so who am I to deny it?

Stay delightful (and hydrated) darlings!

I no longer tag for various reasons, but you can subscribe to be notified at the masterpost. (Queued this post so I'll update the masterpost when I wake)

[kandlewick]

i'll dry the villain's tears

t h e r o s e r e d t y r a n t ' s m o t h e r pt.2

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

You felt entirely too overdressed sitting here at the park. Your former body's wardrobe was obviously not meant for anything too strenuous and that apparently included just enjoying your time outside in the sun. You could feel the sweat gather in uncomfortable places... but your nerves weren't just because of the warm weather.

Trey's mother sat beside you, much more dressed for the occasion, and watched as Trey and Riddle reconnected. You could hear the two of them laugh and giggle as they began playing as if nothing had ever happened and the two were quick to run up the steps leading to the slide, followed by a whole gaggle of other children. You let out a soft sigh of relief at the sight.

Not just the clothes, but your body was so stiff and rigid it was hard to even relax as you tried to breath. Your back was straight as a rod while you sat on the uncomfortable park bench, your well manicured hands firm on your lap and you shuffled uncomfortably in place. Trey's mother eyed you from her spot on the bench and offered a small smile, like she was acknowledging how strenuous this whole situation was for you.

"I'm guessing you've never brought Riddle to a public park before, huh?" She crossed her arms and leaned on them over the table, linking her fingers together, "You look like you're about to faint."

You forced out a laugh, too embarrassed to meet her gaze and pulled at the high collar of your buttoned top. You could practically feel heat waves steaming off of you. "Something like that," you admitted, "I wasn't exactly a good mother when it came to recreational activities."

You inwardly cringed at your wording — what, is Miss Rosehearts vocabulary infecting you too?

Trey's mother hummed as she continued to look at you. You could feel her bright hazel eyes staring at you. You could feel a cold sweat drip down your neck.

"Please stop me if this sounds too forward," Trey's mother leaned back but quickly offered her hand to you, "but my name is Dinah."

You blinked up at her, startled. She... wanted you to shake her hand?

She offered up her hand again and made a motion for you to follow. Almost hesitantly, you reached out and clasped her hand in your own, shaking it. Her palms were so warm, comforting, almost the exact opposite of your body's cold touch. She smiled at you, the dimple on your cheek crinkling with delight.

"I figured since our children are such good friends, we could at least try and act cordial." She glanced over as your two children sat next to each other on the swing set, the elder Trey guiding Riddle on how to kick back his feet. Riddle was hesitant and stumbled a few times, but kept giggling all the same, obviously entranced.

"Trey likes to baby younger kids," Dinah smiled, "I wonder how he'd do with younger siblings..."

You noticed that too as Riddle followed him around like a little duckling chasing after its mama. Whatever Trey did, Riddle would follow even if it meant pushing his limits. Trey watched carefully from the other end of the playground as Riddle jumped from one platform to the next, his arms out and knees shaking as he tried to keep himself balanced. Whenever he would stumble and topple over the edge nearly sending him into a fit of tears, Trey was quick to act and followed him back to the beginning.

"He's a sweet kid." You mumbled, "You're a great mother."

She gave you an almost sympathetic look, noticing your tone before reaching out and grabbing your hand, "Hey, you're not doing so bad now either." She squeezed your hand in her own and offered you an encouraging smile, "Parenting isn't easy and sometimes you don't notice the damage until it's too late but look at you," She gestured to your whole self, "Better late then never, right?"

You both sat there idly chatting until much later then you had figured you would and before long, the sun had began to set, casting the park in a orange hue. You were caked in sweat but Riddle wasn't doing much better. The two children came back huffing and puffing from exhaustion, sweat dripping off their foreheads like rivers. Riddle looked especially tired, his cheeks a bright red.

"I think I'm ready to go now," Riddle sighed.

You gave him a small smile and pulled him close, rubbing your pristine sleeve against his cheeks and wiped away any of the dirt that stained his skin, laughing as he let out a soft whine. Trey wasn't faring any better and was quick to lean against his mother's lap. Dinah ruffled his hair but her face quickly grimaced at the sweat in his hair. The kids obviously were going to need a bath after this.

You pulled Riddle in to your arms and tucked him under your chin. His bright red hair tickled your face but you held him even closer as his arms wrapped around your neck. He let out a soft sigh against your shoulder. Trey, being much taller then Riddle, simply grabbed Dinah's hand. He tiredly looked up at the young boy in your arms and smiled, his hands raising to offer Riddle a small wave.

"Bye, Riddle. We'll play again sometime, ok?"

Riddle turned his head and nodded, a sleepy smile on his face, "Mmmhm..."

"We will do this again sometime, right?" Dinah lowered her voice and leaned over so that Trey wouldn't be in ear shot, "This isn't a one time thing?"

"Oh?" You blinked over at her. Oh! "Yes!" You reassured her, your voice a little too loud, "Yes, we would love that. Riddle would love to." I would love to!! You screamed in your head, eager to befriend her. You wanted friends too!!!

Dinah gave you a dazzlingly bright smile, "Then I think we should invite Chen'ya and his uncle next time too!" Riddle and Trey straightened up at this and you could tell the two of them were excited about the thought.

"His uncle?" You questioned. That doesn't sound very familiar.

"Oh yeah," Dinah laughed behind her hand, "Chen'ya's parents are always out of the country on business so he lives with his uncle and his grandfather. My husband and I are good friends with them both and his uncle is a really fun guy, I'm sure you'd find him... interesting!"

It would certainly be interesting meeting someone new that you had no idea about... plus you'd be able to apologize properly to Chen'ya and whoever his guardian was. It could possibly be very... fun. You could feel your body hum in excitement as you found yourself nodding eagerly, nearly bouncing Riddle in your arms, "I would like that very much."

And then after exchanging phone numbers, you and Dinah parted ways, the two children eager to return home and rest.

"Mmmm," Riddle hummed in your arms, his hold on you loosening as he began drifting off, "I had a lot of fun today —" He yawned loudly, his head burrowing itself further into your neck, a content smile on his face, "Thank you."

[justauthoring]

naturally [4a]

you fit into their little family perfectly - naturally. -> in which yuji wants his mom (a two part snippet)

a/n: this prompt (along with the next part) was sent in by a wonderful anon! so thank you :)) <3

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader, itadory yuji x f!reader (platonic)

Yuji had been kicking up a fuss all night.

What had started as a peaceful night amongst the three of you, with the intention of you watching a movie Yuji’s been asking about for a while, quickly turned into a situation you weren’t sure it was appropriate for you to insert yourself in.

It had all escalated quite quickly and now, alone while Nanami spoke with Yuji in his room, you were still shaking. You felt silly letting such a little thing get to you so much, but you couldn’t help the way you felt, let alone your emotions. 

When you had started dating Nanami, you weren’t sure where the relationship would lead. You knew you liked him a lot and every time you spent time with him, those feelings would grow. He was chivalrous and kind and doting and everything you’ve ever wanted from a man. He was the perfect boyfriend.

Yet, when you’d told your girlfriends about him, their first questions had been; “isn’t it weird for you that he has a son?” 

“You’re still so young. You don’t want to get tied down to a man with a child, do you?”

“Is the mother still in the picture? Those situations never work out.”

To put it plainly, they’d been rude and crude. You’d learned a lot about some of the people you’d thought were your friends that day and had made it clear that you had no problem with Nanami having a son or ever having to take care of his son for that matter. You loved Yuji just as much as you loved Nanami, just in different ways. They both meant the entire world to you and they’d become the family you thought you’d never have.

It has never bothered you.

Just like, on the opposite side of things, you’ve never once thought of yourself as Yuji’s mother. Nanami never spoke about her, had never explained anything about her other than the simple explanation that she wasn’t and would never be part of his or Yuji’s life. You hadn’t asked for any further clarification strictly because Nanami had looked deeply upset and uncomfortable when even just explaining the bare minimum and you hadn’t wanted to upset him further.

Your relationship with Nanami progressed and eventually you moved in–before you knew it, you were a part of each other’s lives completely. You’d moved your things over. His bedroom had turned into our bedroom… The kitchen had touches of your personality, the couch had a pillow or two you’d bought to decorate, his closet had your clothes in it now too. There were touches of you and your presence everywhere in the house.

You’d been worried at first–not wanting to impose but Nanami had assured you you weren’t.

Now though? Now you were sure you had.

That... that you were.

You’d tried to ask Yuji if he could try to sit still on the couch since he’d been fidgeting uncomfortably since you’d picked him up from daycare. He’d seemed upset when you first saw him but he hadn’t wanted to tell you, constantly brushing off your concern and you didn’t want to force yourself on the boy so you’d let it slide, figuring he’d at the very least tell his father 

Except he hadn’t and hadn’t even really greeted Nanami when he got home. It was clear something was wrong but you weren’t sure what to do or if either of them even wanted you to do something so you’d left it alone and let Nanami take the lead.

It seemed asking Yuji to sit still, however, had been the last straw.

He’d instantly thrown a fuss, screaming out in frustration as he kicked out at you in response. You’d pulled back in disbelief, especially given that even when Yuji had thrown tantrums or been upset in the past (as it was normal for every child) he’s never quite reacted towards you like that before. 

Nanami is up in a second, rushing over to Yuji to pull him away all whilst firmly telling Yuji he can’t react like that just cause he’s frustrated by something. It wasn’t that that upset you necessarily–besides the initial shock of it, you could tell Yuji was just overstimulated and frustrated and he was still such a small boy that you understood he just doesn’t know how to express his feelings properly.

It’s his words next that hurt you.

“She’s not my mom!” He’d bellowed, voice screeching in distress, “I want my mom! I don’t want you, I want mama!”

Nanami had glanced at you but you’d just stared back at Yuji in disbelief, eyes wide and lips left parted as Nanami quickly pulled him away and down the hall into his bedroom. You could faintly hear Nanami reprimanding Yuji but couldn’t make out what either of them were saying.

And you’d been sitting on the couch in silence since. It’s been twenty minutes since Nanami pulled Yuji into his bedroom, and they’d gone quite five minutes ago as opposed to the muffled conversation you’d heard earlier from the both of them.

You feel like you want to cry, but the tears won’t fall and if you’re being honest you’re not even sure why. Has Yuji felt this way the entire time? Had you been pushing yourself into his life too much? You thought you were doing things at an appropriate pace, or at least, that had been your intention. Clearly, regardless of that, you’d failed–this entire time Yuji’s thought that you and Nanami were trying to replace his mother with you…

The thought makes you feel sick.

���I managed to put him to sleep.”

You freeze, wide eyes falling on Nanami’s who’s moved to stand in front of you. You hadn’t even heard him come in…

Swallowing thickly, you nod; “that’s good.” You offer quietly, shifting slightly as Nanami moves to take a seat next to you. His eyes are on you, you can feel them even though you refuse to move your gaze away from your lap. You’re sure he wants to talk about what happened but you’re not sure what to say–there’s panic welling deep inside your chest that is making it hard to breathe.

It isn’t until Nanami sets his hand over your own, threading his fingers through yours, that you finally turn to look at him.

“Apparently some kids at school made fun of him for not having a ‘real’ mom,” he explains with a frown. Your lips part at his words, registering the deep hurt in Nanami’s eyes–the guilt thickens. Here you were worrying about yourself not even considering how this all must have been for Nanami, especially now that you both know he’d been teased at school and that’s why he’d been upset and fidgety all night…

“I’ve explained to him before why his mother’s not around,” Nanami continues, squeezing your hand. “I think he was just upset. It caused him to burst out. I’ve told him he has to apologize to you once he’s calmed down–”

You shake your head, shifting to face Nanami properly; “no.” You cut him off, “he has nothing to apologize for. Kento… I never intended for him to think I was replacing his mom and I… if you’ve felt the same, I am so sorry. I thought I was moving slow enough but clearly I was pushing things too much and–”

You’re cut off as Nanami gently sets his free hand over your lips, leaning close enough to rest his forehead against your own. You freeze at the action, shoulders tensing as you stare back at him, lips left parted behind his hand.

“You’re not moving too fast.” Nanami says, his voice soft as he smiles gently at you. “We’re not moving too fast. I told you that Yuji’s mother would never be a part of his life but I never told you why.”

He slowly pulls his hand away, but keeps his forehead pressed against yours, eyes falling shut. “The truth is his mother ran away shortly after giving birth to Yuji. We weren’t together before she got pregnant, it was just the one night but we tried to make things work since she was pregnant. Maybe I was too pushy,” he sighs, shoulders falling, “I’m not sure. I wanted things to work out so badly but one day she just… left. When I tried to call her, she blocked my number and I’ve never seen or heard from her since. She’s quite literally disappeared.”

Oh…

Oh.

“She’s not tried to reach out or ask about Yuji once. I’ve explained this to him in the best way he can because I wanted him to know, no matter how young, why his life was different from other kids. We settled, got comfortable and I learned how to care for Yuji on my own because in my opinion, his mother is all but dead.”

Lips parting, you squeeze Nanami’s hand as his face twists into an expression of pain.

“I was happy with things and assumed they’d always stay this way. But then we met you.” You watch as his expression softens and the discomfort fades away as that same, soft smile curls onto his lips. “You changed everything. I’ve always worried that Yuji should have a female presence in his life, a mother figure… a child needs one. I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with but you’re so good with him. You know what to say and how to make him laugh, laugh in ways I’ve never been able to. You never complain about him, even when he interrupts date nights or when we never have time alone.

“I tried dating women before, once in a blue moon and they all couldn’t stand having Yuji around constantly. He’s my priority, always, but you changed everything. You’ve changed both of our lives in ways I never would have imagined and I know, despite what he said tonight, Yuji loves you, Y/N. He absolutely adores you. I think he’s just confused because he doesn't really understand what you are supposed to be to him.”

You… you never thought of it that way.

You’ve been so careful, never crossing any boundaries because you weren’t sure either of them wanted you to. You didn’t want to confuse Yuji and you didn’t want to make Nanami uncomfortable so you’d always just stayed behind the line between family and less than that.

“I… I love both of you,” you whisper, eyes downcast as you try to sort out the words you want to say. “So much. I love you so much, Kento. You’ve given me what I never thought I could have and… I love Yuji like my own son. I… if it’s okay, want to be a mother to him.”

Squeezing your hand, Nanami leans back, his smile widening as he brushes his fingers across your cheek. “It’s more than okay, Y/N. You’re a part of our family.”

And it means more than Nanami probably knows.

To be a part of a family…

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🌸🌸🌸

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

🌸If you have Virgo Venus, you could feel like you can have the most rewarding, stable partnerships with people who have a 6th house Synastry with you. If you are Taurus Venus, you could resonate more with 2nd house Synastry. If you have Cancer Venus, you connect best with people you have 4th house Synastry with.

🌸I noticed with Mars in the 12th house Synastry is that the Mars person (who most often has secret feelings for the house person) is more "spiritual" about the connection. They have this "if it's meant to be, it will be" passive approach towards starting the connection.

🌸Venus sextile/trine Neptune in a Synastry chart means that Venus person is easily inspired by the Neptune person, hence being more creative. Meanwhile, Neptune person could have material, financial benefits from Venus person, such as getting more lavish, expensive gifts, free dinner, more clothing etc.

🌸In Synastry, when one person's Saturn is negatively aspecting the other person's North Node, they North Node person can feel like this person is slowing down their life purpose and career. North Node person feels like Saturn person wants them to prioritize them and relationship they have with them (starting a family for example, being more present in the connection) rather than their career goals and life purpose.

🌸If both people end up dating their Saturn sign, they view each other as trophies or like a most prized possession. If you have Pisces Saturn, you could see your partner with Pisces Sun as a trophy.

🌸I'm noticing a pattern that I'm starting to develop in a little theory. Often men who have for example Gemini Sun mum, often go for women who have Gemini Moon in their chart. Or if their mum is Taurus Sun, they pick a woman who has Taurus Moon.

🌸Often times people who have Scorpio over the 4th house tend to overshare and claim they are "an open book", when in reality you don't really know much about them personally or what is happening with them or their life.

🌸People who have Mars in the 9th house LOVE to travel (especially long-distance), but I noticed with them, they at some point have this weird, unique, "rebel" phase when they just rebel against travel and kind of don't want to leave their home or hometown that they are used to.

🌸Libra Moon can get pregnant, expect a baby with a person that is already married.

🌸You can start feeling like they brought you closer to who you truly are at your core level around the sign over your 8th house. Like you become more you through the connection with this person, not necessarily "lose" yourself in the connection.

🌸 Partners of women who have Virgo Mars always admire their woman’s modesty and how humbke they are.

🌸People with Scorpio or Aries over the 4th house might really like the gym, but also kinda dislike themselves for how much take actually enjoy it.

🌸 For fitness motivation always look at the people who share their Sun sign with your Mars sign. For example: if you have Scorpio Mars, you might be really interested in a workout routine of a Scorpio Sun, such as Kendall Jenner. If you have Cancer Mars, you might want Cancer Sun Gisele Bündchen to leak her workout routine. The same goes for if you want to have a personal trainer, it’s best if this person has Sun sign of your Mars sign, because they will be able to motivate you better than others.

🌸 Gemini Juno could have a partner that diets or often does cleanses.

🌸 People who have Neptune Ascendant aspect might view the gym as a sanctuary or like personal therapy.

🌸 Young musicians who have Capricorn Venus make songs that even the elderly like to listen.

🌸 In Synastry Venus opposite Mars can mean that Venus person can act differently at home with their Mars partner versus when they are in the public with them. While Mars person is always their authentic self at all times.

🌸 People who have Cancer or Capricorn over the 8th house could attract a partner that acts like their mother (in case of Cancer over the 8th house) or their father (in the case of Capricorn over the 8th house).

🌸 Pisces Mercury and Neptune aspect Mercury can sometimes be mentally quite lazy or passive. They would rather challenge themselves to do a task, chore physically than mentally. For example, they would rather learn how to skate than learn biology.

🌸Capricorn, Pisces, Aries and Libra Moons are prone to be more emotionally insecure, especially when in a partnership. That's why they need validation on a daily basis or often.

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

[utterlyotterlyx]

4 and/or 25 with Eris, please!

Lost In The Fire

Eris x Fem!Reader

Warnings - mentions of arranged marriage, suggestive comments, lots of fluff

(not spell checked sorry x)

What if you - If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you. Don't leave me here alone.

Balls had never been, nor ever would be, your thing.

The opulence that came with them was sickening, a waste of precious resources that could be put toward something more beneficial. The gold on display, the mountains of food that hardly anyone would touch that sat as a putrid reminder of power and wealth, and the stench of ale made your stomach churn with distaste.

You would forever curse your brother, Thesan, for giving you over to the Autumn Court, you understood that you had a duty to fulfil, and since you were the sister of one of the more liberal courts, with unmatched spiritual abilities, it meant that you were a high prize indeed.

You had long lost your usual clothing, red and gold loose fitting robes that still had the power to accentuate every feature you held lay dormant in your wardrobe and had been swapped out for tighter fitting garments in an arrangement of greens and browns and oranges. By order of Lady Autumn, of course.

There would be a day when her title would belong to you, and you always had to look the part.

It was a part you played well.

Marriage to Eris, the Heir of the Autumn Court, wasn't nearly as bad as you had expected it to be. It was lucky that your talents in spirituality were so advanced, and you were also lucky that his knowledge of your gifts was so little when you had first met.

Despite his cold exterior, you saw a small boy within him wanting more than anything to break free from the chains that bound him to his position. It was his only defence against his father. But, he knew that you could see through it, see through him in a way that no one else could and part of him was relieved to finally have someone who could understand him.

Things were still rocky, you struggled with their way of life, something Beron despised and spoke of frequently, saying he did not want you leading his court if you couldn't bend your morals and do what was needed. If turning your back on the people who needed you was too stiff, then you didn't want to be leading his court anyway.

But everything with Eris was good, more than good actually, you had actually come to care for him beyond the requirements of your marriage. Eris had moved your rooms opposite his own to have you closer to him, to have you speak him into newfound calm when his duties became too much; to have you closer to him so that he could soothe your clairvoyant episodes that pounced on you from nowhere.

It was meant to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage to forge new power and bonds and produce a litter of children who possessed both of your abilities. A new path for Autumn, a stronger path.

The clouds darkened on the horizon, the moon poked through their curls and illuminated them with a faint pale blue glow. Lanterns lined the garden paths below your window, Eris had made sure to give you the room with the best view, and you watched idly as high born nobles and invited guests to the nights festivities strolled down the cobbled stone paths arm in arm, pointing at the array of intricately carved white marble statues and fountains littered across the lawns, scattered between the hedges and lush flowerbeds.

Ladies swarmed you, tugging at your limbs and shimmying skirts up your legs before huffing and ripping them down again, tapping your calves to tell you to lift your feet so that they could try the next one. Lady Autumn ordered that racks upon racks of opulent dresses be wheeled into your chambers, it was important that you look your best in front of all of the nobles attending that evening, from Autumn and those from other courts.

Even Beron knew how powerful your opinion was to others, not like he would ever listen to it himself. You had been the one to accompany your brother to the High Lords meeting to find a path forward against Hybern. It was your grace and elegance that kept the meeting from boiling over since you were able to feel the emotions of others and force them to simmer down before they consumed the room. It was you who had been able to tell them all of Hyberns movements which no doubt gave them the edge they needed. It was you who saved dozens upon dozens of soldiers from all courts.

You had been the one to help Feyre with the complications with her pregnancy, you had been there for the birth of her son and had given a kernel of your own gift to keep her alive; it made you a very trusted ally to the Night Court, a friend. Helion wrote to you often asking for you opinions on research and inventions, even went as far as to ask for your input on some new policies he wanted to introduce to Day.

It was stupid to suggest that you wouldn't be the perfect High Lady.

Diplomatic. Gifted. Elegant. Poised.

And Eris adored every part of you that you decided to show him, he basked in it actually.

You weren't really paying attention as the ladies around you tugged at your hair and pulled another dress up your body, fitting it tightly around your breasts and hips before standing back and humming in approval. Then you looked.

An assortment of shimmering golds, burnt oranges and flecks of silver, all weaving between one another like the summer tides. It was sheer, enough to be endearing and elegant but not enough to appear indecent. There was a cut out half sphere below your breasts and the bodice flared upward like streaks of sunshine at the crack of dawn. Even you had to admit that it was a stunning piece indeed. Like a stained glass window glowing with dawns kiss.

"This is the one," your fingers brushed around your hips with a faint smile, your hair was unbound and simple, a perfect compliment to the other-worldly dress you adorned, and your makeup was a picture of dewy perfection, shimmers along your cheekbones and forehead, arched brows, glossed lip. "Thank you," you had dismissed the flock of women as soon as they strapped your shoes to your feet, taking a moment for yourself before you slipped from the room.

The quietness of the hallway was enough to tell you that Eris would already be in the ballroom, no doubt sassily quipping the other High Lords and Ladies with cold eyes and a stiff spine. An act that would melt under your presence.

You weren't wrong.

As soon as you had entered the room, it was encapsulated by you. Feyre and Mor rushed to greet you, stroking your hair and running their hands down your skirts, begging for you to tell them where had gotten it. Cassian bundled you into a boisterous embrace which earnt him a curt jab from Nesta for the inappropriateness, Azriel kissed your knuckles as did Rhys, and Helion kissed your cheek in greeting, muttering to you how beautiful you looked in a hushed tone.

No reaction compared to that of Eris however as he remained glued to his seat with lips agape as his russet orbs scoured your figure, the mere action of his eyes on you making heat rise to your cheeks.

Tables lined the room with benches on either side, all packed with goblets of wine and mugs of ale, platters of food scattered at intricately measured intervals. Only Beron and Lady Autumn sat at the head of the hall, the latter of which examined you with approval.

Everyone had floated about you, stealing your attention from the one you desired to give it to. From Rhys asking you, jokingly, to revolt against Autumn and find sanctuary in Velaris, to Thesan pulling you to the side to inquire if you were being treated well. Helion had updated you on the policies you had so gracefully aided him in implementing, and you found a moment to catch up with Kallias and Viviane.

Then you made your way over to Eris who was wrapped up in a conversation with Lucien and Elain, whose gaze jolted from cold to warm in a split second when he saw your dress glistening in the corner of his eye, "Hello, Embers," his voice was as smooth as freshly cracked open whisky as he prodded you with the nickname he had given you, he thought you glowed, not brightly, but like embers on a dying fire, low and warm.

Eris was extremely proud to call you his wife, not only were you clearly beautiful, but you had a heart of molten gold, people sought you out for comfort and aid, you were graceful and poised, and could change the world with your bare hands if you wished it. It was what he needed, a chance of a real future with the woman he was falling in love with.

He couldn't blame you for your feelings toward him, you didn't exactly have a choice in the marriage but you had tried to make the most of it, and you had let him in and spent more time with him away from the duties required of you. Eris thought that you had finally started to feel a certain way toward him as well, from the faint shine in your eyes when you looked at him to the real laughter that sliced through the fogged atmosphere when he quipped something to you. You made him melt, you made him be who he always wanted to be.

"Hello," your voice was as soft as drizzled honey and your hair fell over your shoulders as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, a necessary act to display your strength as a couple.

Eris felt your eyes trail down his chest and arms, the open collared cream shirt and chestnut brown jacket and pants; he had styled his hair the way you loved it, tamed but still with a playfulness to it, tousled slightly as if he had been stood on the balcony in the wind for a few moments. "Do you like it?" Eris motioned to his suit with that gleam in his eye that made your knees weak, it was certainly a good thing that he wasn't an empath like you, otherwise he'd know his effect on you and no doubt tease you for it.

Just because Eris couldn't feel your emotion doesn't mean that someone else couldn't read you like a book.

You're blushing, a voice infiltrated your mind and you did well to keep a stoic face against Rhys' shit-eating smirk he was no doubt wearing from his seat across the bench from your husband, with his arm loosely wrapped around Feyre's waist, sipping from his goblet with a teasing glint in his eye. Someone might say you might actually feel something for the man.

Ignoring the voice in your head, you spoke, "I love it, we're basically matching."

You'll definitely be matching when both of your clothes are on the floor tonight.

Go fuck yourself, Rhys.

I don't need to. Not when I have my lovely mate.

The walls in your mind flew up then, trapping his talons against the roof of your consciousness with such force that the High Lord visibly winced and rubbed his temple tenderly.

"You look angelic," Eris stood before you, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips against the back of your hand, dipping low and peering at you through his lashes, making no effort to mask the desire in his emotions.

"Thank you," it came out as a whisper and he placed your hand back to your side, sitting down again beside his brother, allowing you to glance along the table which housed not only Eris and Lucien, but also Elain, Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, Helion, and your brother, meaning there was no space for you, "I suppose I'll go and sit with Kallias and Viviane," you picked up your skirts to turn away when Eris' hand shot out and secured around your wrist.

Eris' eyes glowed in the candlelight, you could see the flames flickering in his russet orbs that had you in a constant chokehold, "What if you-"

"If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you," Azriel choked on his wine and coughed as Rhys and Cassian howled in laughter, even Eris chuckled and ran a hand through his hair at your words, standing to tower over you and cup your face in his hand.

"Perhaps later," he smirked and you visibly blushed at the words, even Eris couldn't miss it and he stroked a thumb over your rosed cheek.

In defence, you quipped, "Maybe I'll go back to my chambers then," the words flew from your mouth and you only realised how they sounded when Eris' focus darkened, the tension between you both was palpable to the point that even Azriel let out a whoosh of air he didn't realise he was holding in his lungs.

"So tempting," he took a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and speaking a low, rough tone, "Don't leave me here alone, you know I don't do well without you."

"Fine," you strained and he grinned victoriously before ordering his brother and Elain to scooch down slightly to make room for you, and you slotted beside Eris like the final piece to his puzzle, thanking him for the goblet of wine you had taken from his offering fingers and looking upward at Rhys and Feyre who both sent you a knowing glance.

Knocking on the doors of your mind, you allowed Rhys to slip in, doing your best to stay distracted against Eris' hand on your hip that sent fire coursing through your veins and heat pooling between your thighs.

I've never known him to be like this, you know.

Like what?

Rhys' eyes flickered to Eris in examination before finding you again whilst Feyre kept the heir ignorant to the conversation between you and her mate.

Soft. Caring. He loves you, Y/N.

Well, it's a good thing I love him too then.

Rhys smirked, raising his goblet to you to which you clinked against your own, sipping the spiced wine and smiling with happiness at his words.

Eris sighed and turned to you, placing a kiss to your cheek, allowing his lips to graze against your cheekbones and his breath to fan down your neck. The rest of the room had moved on, wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in the ale and music, leaving you and Eris alone and untouchable in your little bubble. His eyes scanned you, sketching every part of you onto the canvas within his mind, "Your presence has impacted me so deeply that I'm convinced that if we never met then something would feel missing," he rested his forehead against your own and his hand gripped your waist as his gaze bore into you, "Don't leave me alone, don't ever leave me," a breathless plea that stole your heart.

"I will never leave you, Eris. I will be here to watch all of your dreams come true, I promise."

Flames danced in his eyes and he became unbothered by who could be watching, "They already are," his finger stroked a line up the curve of your throat as he lifted your chin up, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours in something you could only call ethereal, so tender but passionate that you felt your heart burst with golden light in your chest.

Eris smirked against your lips, a knowing thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened, pulling away, you gasped as your hand ghosted over the fabric of your heart, "You knew?"

"From the moment we met at that meeting in Dawn," his nose brushed against yours, "You were too busy helping Thesan and keeping Tamlin under control to notice, but I saw you, and I knew I needed you."

"You never said anything."

"How could I?" Eris pressed a kiss to your nose, "You had to fall for me on your own, I couldn't influence that."

You inhaled his scent, of crackling firewood and spiced oranges and sighed, you curled your fingers around the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, more forcefully, and luckily for you both, the room hadn't noticed your infatuation due to Cassian's well played distraction to give you both a moment, one that you needed.

"I need to get you out of here before I take you on this table," his voice possessively growled and it made you shudder in intense delight.

Rhys watched from across the way as Eris took your hand in his own and pulled you from the room, smiling at the large grin on your face and the faint giggles passing through your lips as he saw the silhouette of Eris flinging you over his shoulder cascaded in shadow onto the white stone floor.

If anyone deserved true happiness, a life of wonder and love, it was you, and it was something Rhys believed Eris was now fully capable of providing for you.

Author's Note

Back from Paris in love with the idea of love so expect lots of fluff coming your way x

[written-in-the-stars3]

Before Aventurine, it was safe to say that Ratio’s life was not as hectic. He did as he pleased, whether it was working on his current research or simply reading in the bath— his routine revolved around no other than himself.

Now, things were different and out of routine. Ratio was not one who really appreciated being out of routine, so it was safe to say that it was an adjustment. He had gotten used to it being just himself in his apartment, now there was a whole other person; half of his wardrobe was now designated to his lover’s rather colorful attire. Aventurine knew no boundaries either, the blonde was far too quick to criticize his taste in clothes once he had moved in and replaced them with outfits that were “more fitting for a doctor”. Whatever that meant. 

Aventurine tested his patience as well— oh, how he loved to test his patience. Whether it was messing with his slides which his students were quick to take notice of. Luckily they all respected (or feared) him enough to not linger on the jokes, however, it didn’t make it any less annoying. Once Aventurine even changed his laptop background to a picture of the two which Ratio hadn’t noticed until he projected his screen for his students to see— it was a decent picture at most, the two comfortable on their couch, Ratio was reading a book while Aventurine leaned against him and took a picture. He rather liked the picture. But it wasn’t for his students' eyes to see! 

No matter how many times Ratio warned him to not call or text him during class, Aventurine always did the opposite, insisting that he missed his boyfriend and was eagerly awaiting his return. Ratio wasn’t sure if he was serious or simply just choosing to annoy him by doing exactly what he told him not to. But, whenever Ratio would come home, he would find Aventurine meeting him at the front door, greeting him with a kiss and a “welcome home, Veritas.”

Before Ratio would be met with a hauntingly quiet apartment. Now, there was a whole person awaiting his arrival and asking about his day. Ratio was one who appreciated a nice soak in the bath after work— Aventurine always had one ready for him. “I got some new bath salts that I think you might like. Let me know what you think!” A simple bubble bath was sufficient, but Ratio could not deny that he rather enjoyed the extra little additions… and he appreciated having a companion to enjoy a bath with.

They would rest against each other, not many words spoken as they quietly soaked in the warm water. Every so often Aventurine would ask about Ratio’s day, or what he wished to do in the evening. Afterwards, they would help each other dry off— not that Ratio required the assistance but Aventurine always insisted that they help each other. 

After a bath and dinner, Ratio would always require some time to catch up on his research or grade his student’s assignments. That was usually when he would get some alone time in his office while Aventurine caught up with his own work. His office still remained his space, but sometimes he would find little surprises whenever he would walk in.

“Where did these flowers come from?”

Aventurine peered through the door to see Ratio adjusting the vase of assorted flowers on his desk. “I picked some up for you this afternoon. I figured your office could use a little splash of color. Do you like them?”

“Well… they certainly aren’t atrocious,” no one had ever gotten him flowers before— no one ever really cared enough to think about the little things until this gambler weaseled his way into his life. 

“Geez, I’m glad you like them,” Aventurine chuckled and turned around to return back to his work, only to be stopped by Ratio who pulled him back and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you. I appreciate the thought,” a simple statement made the blonde light up, but it was the least he could do to express his gratitude— because no one ever cared to this extent. No one ever cared to check up on him at work. No one ever cared to stay awake and wait for him to join them in bed. No one ever cared for simply wanting to be with him.

Before Aventurine, it was safe to say that Ratio’s life was not as hectic. But without a doubt, Aventurine brought colors into his life, colors he never knew existed until now.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Hi there! Could I please request some hcs with Tenjiku? Where reader has like this yk2 grunge/alt OR the goth style of clothing if ykwim? And, because of this style reader has, they draw a lot of attention to themselves and because they are pretty too ofc, hehe😈

It's like the exact opposite to the hyper feminine, pink coquette style!reader you did recently on another hcs. I hope you understood what I meant because english is not my first language... 🤧🫶🫶

Tenjiku x Y2K Grunge!Reader

♡ SFW, suggestive, fem reader, fluff, jealousy, flirting, reader gets hit on a lot, reader attracts attention ♡

note: thanks for requesting anon and don't worry I understood ya perfectly 🩷

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Izana

🎴 Gets you a pair of earrings that match his, he needs everyone to know you're together

🎴 Super possessive over you and will absolutely roundhouse kick the shit out of someone if they flirt with you

🎴 Does your makeup for you, probably steals your boots too because they make him look taller

Kakucho

🩷 A fan of all of your outfits, thinks your style is very chill and fits you well

🩷 Especially loves when you wear baggy clothes because he thinks you're prettiest when you're comfy

🩷 Won't threaten anybody if they look at you, but definitely gives them a polite warning look (he deadass gives them death stares but he swears he didn't)

Ran

💜 Always threatening people in public for looking at you (he can't blame them though because he be looking too)

💜 Makes jokes about bondage when he sees you decked out in more than one belt

💜 Matches jewelry with you and really wants to get matching tattoos

Rindou

🩵 Doesn't understand why you drown yourself in accessories but he can't deny it's cute

🩵 Loves when you wear skirts, especially denim ones with intricate stitching

🩵 Gives people side eyes when they look at you, he knows you're beautiful but he also knows that they see his damn arm around your waist

Mucho

🔷 Loves when you wear oversized t-shirts, it reminds him of how cute and tiny you are, he'll even offer up his own shirts for you to wear

🔷 Won't hesitate to rock someone in their jaw for looking at you for too long

🔷 Buys you a bunch of jewelry and chains for you to hook on your pants, he got you dripped tf out for real

Mochi

🍡 Obsessed with the fishnets that you wear, whether it be stockings or a shirt, he's here for it

🍡 Puts people in headlocks for hitting on you and only lets go when you tell him to

🍡 Loves how you look in a crop top, he thinks your tummy looks cute (he pinches you nonstop too)

Shion

🖤 Y'all are that one hot grunge couple honestly, he's in love with the way you dress and wants to match constantly

🖤 Makes you walk ahead of him when you're out so you don't see him beating the shit out of somebody for looking at you

🖤 He especially loves the big boots you wear, just a normal amount though he totally doesn't want you to step on him or anything weird like that

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER NINETEEN: DUCK

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, murder mentions

Read after the cut

---

“Family,” says Hannibal. “Let’s return to that subject today.”

You occupy the living room, each in a velvet armchair tilted with intent to replicate the layout of his office, the clever dressing of a theatre set. Attempts to put off this particular session had proved inefficacious, the coercion of your attendance rendering you curt and snappish in demeanor.

Truthfully you’ve been so since this morning, having rolled, coughing and vaguely feverish, from dreams of bodies hung rattling like so many clothes hangers in some subterrestrial den.

Hannibal, as expected, had still seen fit to persist with his agenda, weathering your complaints with a brisk good humour.

Will had made himself scarce sometime before you’d awoken, and has left word that you’re not to expect his return for many days. You yearn for him in all his brittle ferocity, a gabion against his friend’s subtle erosion of your mind as you know it. The early hour, the assault of unwanted conversation: such sly methods of torture will damn you to madness as quick as the murkiest secret.

“I’ve told you about my family,” you say to Hannibal, fingering a loose tuft of angora on your sweater. “Besides, you won’t even let me talk to them.”

“I don’t think that it would be to your benefit for me to do so,” he answers, and makes a gracious pretence of examining his pen.

Had you not extended a hand to Amy there would indeed have been a second call, this you’re clearly meant to understand. Hannibal is not above such trivial warfare, as he makes a continuing point to prove; you might be entertained by so comic a flaw were you not in such dire opposition.

“Maybe it’d be good for me to talk to my family,” you say, smartly. “And how can you know that it wouldn’t be when you barely know anything about them?”

Hannibal smirks, pleased to have cast such irresistible bait.

“Enlighten me, then. Begin with your mother, if you like. A predictable start, but in that simplicity rather less challenging than other avenues.”

You glance about the room as though seeking inspiration from it and find it wanting. Only the window at which the dying autumn presses its face wets the brush of conversation again, that symbol of fleeing dark brick to beyond a reminder that you must play on.

“We fight a lot,” you say. “My mom and me. She always has to be right about everything all the time. Never made a mistake in her life. Never apologises for anything. And if you criticise her— well, just don’t. Plus, she used to hit me when I was little. Nothing crazy, but still. She hit me.

“Then one day I slapped her right back and she never did it again.”

Pausing, you tug the hem of your sweater to your knees, an instinct to cover skin that today is not an inch bare.

“It’s funny,” you say. “She acts like she doesn’t remember any of it now.”

“Those in denial of their misdeeds often excise those shameful moments from the past,” says Hannibal. “It may not even be a conscious decision on her part.”

“It’d almost be better if it was. Then maybe she could own up to it, some day.”

Hannibal’s pen mars a fresh page in his notebook; even were it not upside down you suspect you’d fail to untangle his complicated hand.

“Has your mother’s behaviour caused friction surrounding your anorexia?” he asks.

“God, yeah,” you say, half laughing. “She used to yell at me. Tried to bully me into eating. Now she cries a lot and kind of makes it all about her. She loves me, but not in the ways you want in a mother. She pays for stuff. Drives me to places. Ticks all those boxes, you know? But she’s never been kind or comforting, really.

“It’s not all her fault. I guess she just doesn’t know how.”

A leaf falls against a windowpane like the hand of a dead, withered child, and you find yourself drawing back in your seat, wishing you’d the strength to push the chair against the wall.

“Why do you think your mother is unable to fulfil her role as you would like?” asks Hannibal.

“I guess my grandparents treated her the same way she treats me. They were always kind of cold with me when I knew them.”

“Generational cruelty is an infection one must wittingly sterilise. A pity so few are self-aware enough to administer that treatment. Was your father sufficiently conscious?”

Odd, this invocation of the paternal when Hannibal and Will have worked so diligently to embody it in place of your genetic relative.

Now, in a shirt the colour of thatch rolled pristinely back from the jewel of his wristwatch, the doctor could well be the wealthy father of a girl your age, the type to pour upon you his thousands, to walk you down the aisle in a venue of his choosing to marry an approved match of your class.

But you will never wed now that Hannibal has claimed you. He speaks of your family from a wreckage of his making, at ease with his distance from it.

“I love my dad the most,” you say. “But he’s a weird guy. Quiet. Never opens up about his feelings. He’ll talk about movies, or the news, but real stuff? Nope. So I've never felt all that comfortable around him. I mean, with good reason after... after everything.”

“More than good,” says Hannibal, firmly. “That you aren’t angrier with both parents for their abandonment in your time of need surprises me.”

“I don’t really blame them. Uncle Lee has this way about him. He can make people believe pretty much anything he says.”

Inevitable that you should mention Leland, who—though of other blood—is still an incestuous growth on the vine.

“What is this way of his?” asks Hannibal. “You’ve previously spoken of a power to sash the eyes of loved ones against what you perceive to be an obvious darkness. How does that ability present in him?”

You bring your legs up onto the chair, crossing them under you for comfort.

“He moved from Louisiana in his twenties,” you say, “so he still has the accent and everything. He even speaks French sometimes. Then there’s this way of holding himself he has. Kind of cocky, but funny, though. From the second he moved in on our street my parents just loved him, apparently. They never saw what I saw.”

“He’d donned the rubber mask.”

You look up at Hannibal almost shyly.

“Yeah. You remember.”

“Yes. And did you love him, in spite of what seemed to you an obvious guise?”

“I did. In some sick way I still do. So I get why my Mom and Dad believed him over me, but sometimes I think maybe part of them knows the truth, but they just shove it down deep like something dead.”

Scrubbing your face angrily with the sleeve of your sweater you snub, without noticing it, the omnipresent box of tissues on the nearby table top. Hannibal makes no remark on your unclean habit, only pours you a cup of green tea which you accept for the sake of avoiding an argument.

“To truly love someone you mustn’t bury their evils,” says Hannibal. “You must find acceptance of them in whatever form you can. Your parents do not care for this friend so much as fear the upheaval of the known. A suburban life, a sullied idyll— by sending you to me they are attempting to reverse its disunion from their image of it in memory.”

“They’re selfish,” you say. “I know. What’s new there?”

You look at the bottom of your teacup, hunting an impossible pattern in the pale ceramic.

“I don’t want to talk about my family anymore. What about yours? You had a sister, didn’t you?”

Hannibal’s eyes change like the blackening of dusk.

“Will told you this,” he says.

“Does it matter?” you ask, shrilly. “I want to know who you are, Daddy, and this is where I want to start. What happened to Mischa? What did she die of?”

It’s frightening how the man before you alters in only light adjustments: the quiet crossing of a limb, the rhomboid slant of shoulders under his jacket, each a signifier of the restless potentiality for truculence in him.

His face is not so beautiful in moments such as this. The flaws in it stand out to you: flesh racked over halberds of bone, something amphibious in the mouth, of some alien taxon. A killer’s physiognomy, little though you care for such sciences as would define it so.

“My sister was murdered when she was a little girl,” says Hannibal. “I interrupted the culprit in the midst of defiling her body, but it was too late. She was lost to me.”

The moon opal of a tear tips loose of an eyelash, its passage a kinetic artistry. What you’d taken for anger is another emotion: a raw and ancient loss.

“Oh my god,” you say. “That’s awful. Do you know who killed her?”

“A man who remains imprisoned to this day,” says Hannibal. “That is his penance for taking Mischa from me.”

You are in too great a terror and disgust of this man to embrace him, as would feel apt for a moment such as this.

“I’m sorry,” you say, weakly.

Hannibal closes the notebook in his lap and asks, almost blandly, “Are you?”

His bald disbelief flusters you.

“Yes. Of course. She was just a little girl. In fact, I feel like I get it, now. All of this. Me and you. It makes sense why you want me. Why you are what you are. It’s because of her.”

Forcing a smile, you reach over and touch a hand to Hannibal’s cheek.

He turns his face gently away from the caress.

“You’re mistaken, Little One. Whereas you were moulded by your circumstances, I was liberated by mine.”

You stare at him, endeavouring to bone his words for their meaning.

“What are you saying?”

“My philosophies and desires pre-existed Mischa’s death. My love for her restrained me, for while she lived I was never free to act as I yearned to in fear that she would be harmed. In some ways I resented that restraint, but in passing Mischa offered me the opportunity to forgive her.”

A cloud snuffs out the sun, and you sit in the dark of it, aghast.

“Forgive her for what?” you ask, in a near whisper. “Helping you? Hannibal, I—”

“We are still at an impasse, I see,” he says, coolly. “We must rectify this. Would you like to know how she received her absolution?”

You shake your head.

“But you must,” says Hannibal. “You’re a curious girl. Mischa’s remains now lie in a grave in my home country. Before I buried them there, I ate part of her. That is how I reconciled my feelings for my sister with what I am.”

Shock throttles your body in its tremor, and the empty teacup drops from your hand, prevented from breaking only by the carpet underfoot. You had, with all the delicate senses of a medium, deciphered the presage of his appetite, and still you feel the plates of the earth shudder with the magnitude of his confession.

Hannibal gets up from his seat, places the cup back into its saucer, and takes your hand in his.

“Let’s end the session there,” he says. “I’d like to involve you in preparing today’s meal, since that’s a new interest of yours.”

With a fear-stricken servility you walk with him to the kitchen, expecting him to have something—someone—preserved in the glossy coffin of the refrigerator.

Instead Hannibal kneels to unlatch an ingenious door in the floorboards, revealing a neat little staircase which runs down into a basement room. From it emanates a rolling field of cold, biting at you through your clothes.

You take a step back, near tumbling in your eagerness to escape it.

“What is that?”

“It’s an expansion of the freezer,” says Hannibal. “With all the dinner parties I host it’s natural that I found myself in need of more storage space. This is my answer to that problem. I’d like you to go down and choose a cut of meat for dinner.”

There’s no threat in the statement; he speaks, in fact, quite casually, meaning to impress upon you the mundanity of his diet in his eyes. To make supper of his sister, to dine upon lamb: there is no separation for him, being that all of it is meat.

You squeeze your eyes shut, cannot face the oblong of shadow beyond the steps which you’ve dreamt of, unknowing,

“Please don’t make me go down there, Daddy.”

“There’s nothing to be frightened of. Open your eyes, Little One.”

“No. No. I don’t want to.”

You try to turn away, but Hannibal arrests you by the arms, holding you as a farmer would a wriggling hare.

“I’m not going to eat you,” he says. “If that’s what you think.”

“I know!” you wail. “But it doesn’t matter. If I go down there and... see, everything’ll change forever. Because I’ll know for sure, and I’ll be part of it. And I can’t be part of it. I’ll go crazy.”

You jerk passionately in Hannibal’s grip, but his greater strength prevails.

“Wait,” you say. “When you talked about Leland—bringing him to me—you meant that I should kill him to eat.”

“Yes,” says Hannibal, simply. “I did.”

There is a softness in his eyes you recognise as hope. He is a man desperate to create others like him, for all that he believes that they are born.

“But you said with Mischa that eating her was forgiveness,” you say. “But you don’t want me to forgive Uncle Lee. So what would it mean to eat him?”

“Look to why trophy hunters keep mementos of their sport. Some as markers of achievement and dominance over the animal, and others in a subconscious humiliation of the predator they’ve slain. Man gloats to bring a tiger to kneel; a girl, having conquered man, might do the same.”

Thinking of Hannibal’s recorded killings, some of them young women, you say, “Most animals don’t deserve humiliation.”

“That’s all a matter of perspective, my dear. A seasoned hunter develops rather a discerning eye for flaws in his quarry.”

Hannibal smooths a lock of hair behind your ear, his rancid touch queerly soothing.

“What did Savannah Belmont do to deserve humiliation?” you ask, sulkily. “She wasn’t a bad person. She was just a girl, like me.”

“A cursory reading of obituaries and odes to Miss Belmont’s life denote her brief career at a rare bookshop,” says Hannibal, “for which position her personal tastes suggest she was underqualified to take. It wouldn’t be so unrealistic to assume that she left customers unhappy with her inadequate ability to serve them.”

Horror breaks over you like the falling of a chandelier. This, too, you had foreseen: no serious cause to kill was ever required for Hannibal, and that you are fucked rather than murdered by him is but a flourish of fate.

Peering into your eyes, Hannibal comes to a rapid decision and bends to close the trapdoor again.

“Duck, tonight, then,” he says. “That will suffice.”

*

Through terror you cling to Hannibal long into the afternoon, lurking at his elbow, a thumb in your mouth, as he prepares for the day’s appointments.

If he is he here, with you, he cannot kill, you reason, not while he thinks only of the invitation of tear-salt on your lips, the liquor of your nether mouth around him. Again and again you’ll die upon his cock as tribute, for though cold in your disorder you are not so callous as to allow others to, if you can help it.

“I’ll be gone for just a few hours, sweet girl,” he says, pausing to rock you in his lap. “No more of this. I’ve left a new book for you in your room. Please begin reading it for me. And there is the recording of an opera I’d like you to watch. That should keep you occupied until I’m home to you.”

It’s only after he’s driven away in the hearse of his car that you succumb to the awfulness of all you've heard. As in those primordial days of captivity you grasp the bars of your window and scream into the burnished day, beating your fists upon the iron until they burst across the bone.

Only a volley of coughing halts you in this fit, sending you to your bed alarmed by the weakness come over you. You lie shivering for hours, wondering if this is the nervous exhaustion you’ve read about in novels that ends in heroines consigned to the madhouse, sunny climes, or else the grave, none of which you might expect to be released to.

When Hannibal returns he feels your forehead and listens to your coughs with a mildly furrowed brow.

“Hospital,” you croak, but he only laughs and strokes your head.

“There’s no need for that. You have a chest infection. Your immune system is very poor. Nevertheless, you’ll be well again soon.”

He perfumes your damp neck with a kiss and sits down in a chair beside you.

“Perhaps it’s for the best that Will is occupied with work,” he comments, at length. “I wouldn’t like his condition to worsen again.”

[d6volution]

Reader who is just as much of a jackass as Jax is. Both of you are competing for the “best prank” on the rest of the circus members. However, one day Jax decides to ask Caine for a “massager” claiming you complained about muscle aches. Jax gives it as a gift, the reader not knowing the outfit contains the toy. He wants you to wear on the next adventure and hopes to push your buttons. Whether the reader gets revenge is up to you.

i think i get it! hopefully this is okay 🫶🏽

tags: make shift vibrator, fingering, outdoors, cursing cause i didn't feel like censoring it.

more below the cut. | minors dni.

"You're kiddin' ... there's no way Zooble would sleep through that." Jax grinned, at you .. a hand on his hip as you both walked through the halls at a moderate pace.

"Mhm, wait til you see them." Was all you said, clearly confident of your own doings.

Like clockwork, Zooble appeared, "What are you two assholes staring at?" Zooble squinted.

Jax couldn't help it, a thunderous roar of laughter erupted from his mouth and held his stomach. Pointing at Zooble with the opposite hand.

"What the hell is so funny?" Zooble didn't notice , they were so used to switching and swapping parts on their body that they failed to notice the comically bouncing googly eye on their face, replacing their usual left eye.

"N—Nothing, Zoobs. You look great.." You giggled and yanked Jax away before he gave away the joke before it had its time to play out.

You guys rounded the corner, "That puts me ahead three points, bunny boy." You said smugly.

"What? No way." He rolled his eyes, and the laughing fit quickly wore off.

"What do you mean, no way? Those were the rules !" You huffed, and relished in your frustration.

"The rules, of my game, dollface."

"Should've known you'd cheat.."

"Look, how about this, next adventure we go on. Double the points. Whoever comes out on top wins. Simple." He shrugs his shoulders.

"Hmp. Fine, you've got a deal." You were planning to get the one up on him. Even if it meant humiliating the other members in the process. There was nothing else to do in this digital world, so why not have some fun at the expense of others?

You two parted ways for the night, and unbeknownst to you Jax had a devious plan already cooked up.

"Hey, Caine."

The ringmaster was cleaning up the mess from the last adventure, "Oh , hello there Jax! What can I do for you?" His voice boomed like usual.

"You know, y/n said they've been havin' some trouble with... uh, back aches. real bad back aches. Needs, I dunno.. a massager or something. Got anything like that?" He gestured.

"Hmm.. I suppose I can cook something up!" He pretened to dig in his pocket, his arm disappearing all the way down to the forearm until he pulled out a make shift massager that had multiple vibrating parts.

Jax's grins grew wide, it was almost creepy how narrow his eyes got. "Thanks , Caine. You're the best." He caught the massager such Caine tossed to him. Jax waved and quickly went to his room. He spent the entire night carefully crafting an outfit for you, though right in the crotch the vibrator was hidden inside the cloth. The things you could make happen here we almost comical. But, Jax took whatever advantage he could get. No matter how ridiculous.

Now lastly. The remote. He'd be able to control whenever the "massager" turned on and off , plus fluctuate its intensity.

The next morning came in a flash, maybe because he was up throughout the night.. no matter. It's not like they get tired anyways.

He showed up at your door, outfit in hand. He knocked until you opened it.

"Jeez, Jax first thing in the morning and— ..... whats that..?" You pointed at the clothes folded in his hands, it was a one piece outfit but it cut off to make shorts at the bottom.

"For you, dummy." He teased and shoved it into your arms.

"You must be out of your mind if you think I'm wearing this Jax." You scoffed and held it up in front of you. It wasn't too provocative..  you just didnt trust him.

"C'mon doll, don't be a loser. Just wear it,— wear it and successfully pull one prank on a member and the winning title is all yours." He spiced up the deal, grinning at you.

You knew there had to be a catch, but if he thought you weren't going to take advantage of this he'd be wrong. "Fine. I'll win, and when I do. You have to anything I say for the entire day."

"Deal." He responded a little too quickly and you shut the door in his face. His smile remained and he hummed to himself as he went looking for the others while you changed.

It was odd how well this outfit fit you, snug but not too tight.. just when did he get your measurements..? Ugh, whatever. It was a little uncomfortable in certain areas , but what were you expecting? Jax to be some master tailor?

"I can't believe I'm doing this.." You muttered before exiting your room, meeting up with the rest of the lot just in time. Caine was explaining the ins and outs of todays adventure. Something about fishing at the digital lake. You weren't paying attention, trying to figure out a quick prank to pull on an unsuspecting member so you could get out of this outfit.

BUZZZZ.

You jumped and yelped, covering your mouth as you felt something vibrating against your clit. Your cheeks went red and you tried to keep still as a few eyes darted to you, but only for a moment. 'What the, fuck?' You thought, and immediately looked at Jax. Unfortunately he wasn't even looking at you.

"Alright, now go on my little superstars! Good luck!" Caine ended his speech and disappeared in puff of smoke.

You all exited the tent and headed towards the lake.. just then you fell another buzz and stumbled to a stop, Kinger and Gangle walked past you with concerning looks... followed by Jax. You walked with him , cheeks still red.

"Jax. I'm taking this stupid outfit off."

"Fine, you'll lose immediately though.. don't say I didn't warn ya." He said and seemed completely unbothered, clearly aware of how competitive you can be.

"Th.. That's not fair and you know it." You growled under your breath.

"Lighten up doll, maybe this is just what you need. A little fun and pleasure." He shrugged before the buzzing started again, and you let a whine slip past your lips before biting down on your bottom lip.

"Whoops.. hand slipped."

"You're going down you, little pervert."

You felt like steam was going to erupt from your ears. You pushed past him, flustered and frustrated. He just chuckled as you stormed off. Clearly pleased with himself.

The buzzing stopped and you breathed , you had to come up with something.. maybe you'd hook Gangle's fishing line to one of her ribbons so when she tries to cast it, it'll go all wrong and make her unravel.

The plan was nearly perfect .. except everytime you tried to distract gangle Jax pressed that damn button and the vibrator buzzed against your thobbing clit.

Every time you tried to initiate your plans , it was always interrupted. The buzzing didn't even stay on long enough for you to reach your climax so you were constantly being edged.. you had to take a break, you could feel your lewd jucies running down your inner thighs..

"I'm going to kill him.." You said, but the words left your mouth pathetically. You leaned against a tree, far from the others.. maybe if you came then you could .. function at least.

"Oh, wondered where you ran off to. Havin' some trouble there doll?"

"N.. No, Jax you'd better not—"

BUZZZZZ.

You almost crumpled to your knees but Jax was right in front of you, holding you against the tree. "Poor thing, can't even stand. How ya gonna win like this, huh?"

Your eyes were glassy, legs shaking. "Y.. You asshole.." Your legs were trembling and you could feel Jax's hand sliding up your torso.

"How about this, give up and I'll let ya cum dollface. No strings attached." He stared at your helpless form. Eyes clearly foggy with lust.

"N.. No way, hhck..!" The buzzing got more intense and you finally collapsed to the floor.

".. O..Okay , please..! please let me cum, Jax.." You whined, your cunt puffy and throbbing with need.

"Heh, that's what I thought.. good game, y/n." He croutched down in front of you. His body pretty much blocking yours fron any eyes that could possibly end up seeing you two.. he pushed aside the shorts and your panties and plunged two fingers inside of you without a second thought.

You yelped and instinctively scooted back but the tree kept you in place.

"Shh.. someone might hear ya, babe. Just cum on my fingers real quick yeah?" He whispered into your ear and your cunt convulsed around his fingers at the thought. You grabbed his arm but he didn't stop, still hammering his fingers in your squelching cunt.

"Fuck... you're so wet." He muttered and stared at your cunt as it swallowed up his fingers.

"Jax!" You yelped and your body jolted as you came on his fingers, panting a little.

"Ya good , doll?" He asked, slowly removing his fingers from your dripping snatch.

You nodded and helped you adjust your clothes, before assisting you to your feet. "How about you go get changed.. I'll make up an excuse if the others say something." He said in a more gentle voice now, his eyes were still wild with lust but he figured now may not be the time.

"R..  Right .. thanks, Jax." You still felt numb down there, your legs still a bit shaky.

"Oh, you still lost by the way. Heh."

Of course you did.

[bri-cheeses]

Jerseys vs Hoodies - Part 6

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 871 | Part 5 is here | @krispykidgarden this one’s for you in honor of the fact that finals suck :) |

-

Evan doesn’t know what to say.

He’s looking at Barty, who in turn is gazing at him with a soft smile and a questioning look in his eyes. Evan thinks he needs someone to just pinch him, because there is no way that this is real. No way that he poured out his heart to Barty and wasn’t sent away with it in pieces.

No, he hadn’t been sent away at all. Quite the opposite, actually. But that just made it all the more unbelievable.

Evan should say something poetic and romantic, should smile back and kiss Barty and tell him that he wants to try to be something more with him, but all he can do is stare dumbly and say, “Is this real?”

Barty chuckles, and Evan’s heart melts.

“I could pinch you if that would make it feel more believable,” he offers.

Evan laughs and lets his forehead fall against Barty’s chest, shaking with amusement and giddy joy as Barty’s hand smooths away some of his curls.

“Nope,” he says, and can’t believe that this is happening to him, “I think the fact that you just said that did the trick.”

“Good.” Evan can hear the smile in Barty’s voice and looks up to see it resting in place, aimed at him fondly.

“So…” Barty ventures, “what do you think?”

Evan knows what he means without having to ask. Slowly, he says, “I think that we’re two idiots, but two idiots who could be less of dumb if they just kissed. And actually meant it,” he adds as an afterthought.

It doesn’t seem possible, but Barty’s grin stretches even wider as if it can defy all logic.

“That seems about right,” he agrees.

And then his mouth is on Evan’s, nothing else existing except for the two of them sitting in a library and figuring out a whole new way to fit together.

“Evs,” Barty breathes once they finally pull apart, and Evan smiles so wide he feels as though his face may break in half. There’s no way Evan could ever get tired of hearing Barty say his name like that.

“You know,” Barty tries again, “I really think that you wearing my clothes should be a regular occurrence.”

He tugs on Evan’s sleeve, where the fabric hangs a little from being too long, and seems to be slightly distracted as he mumbles, “You look really good in it.”

Evan blushes and swats Barty’s hand away.

“We’ll discuss the details later,” he says breezily, still smiling. “Just don’t ask me to wear your jersey. I think I’ll leave the whole “jersey wearing thing” to Reg.”

He was just joking, but a horrified expression crosses Barty’s face as soon as Evan finishes his sentence. It immediately causes Evan’s heart to fall through his stomach.

“What?” he asks worriedly, his smile long gone.

Barty shakes his head and grabs Evan’s hands, easing his fears slightly. “Rosie, do you know what this means?”

Evan shakes his head, still confused.

“This means that we owe Reg for the start of our relationship,” Barty says, and looks as if he’s seen something truly harrowing.

And suddenly Evan gets it.

“No,”’ he gasps. “We can never tell him, or else he’ll be absolutely insufferable.”

“Too late,” says a voice from somewhere between the stacks of books, and then Regulus is standing at the edge of the table, bag strap looped around his shoulder and looking slightly worse for the wear.

Barty and Evan turn a horrified glance to each other.

“Please tell me that you weren’t here the entire time,” Evan finally says.

Regulus shakes his head, and Evan feels slightly mollified. Only slightly, though, as Regulus then says, “I just came back a little bit ago to come and get you two for dinner, and you looked as though you were having a… moment.” Regulus wrinkles his nose. “Please never kiss in front of me again.”

Barty just grins and slings an arm around Evan’s shoulders, even as Evan’s face turns red.

“No promises,” Barty says, then turns around to peck Evan on the nose. Evan can’t help but smile at him. Regulus makes a sound of disgust.

“I’m going to be sick,” he pronounces, then gestures for the pair to stand up. “Come on. We’re late for dinner.”

Barty sighs dramatically, then stands and extends a hand to Evan.

“Shall we go, sweetie pie?” he asks in a ridiculously sweet manner.

Evan sniggers, “Of course, snookums,” then places his hand in Barty’s and allows him to haul him to his feet.

“I’m leaving now,” calls Regulus, already walking away as Barty tucks an arm around Evan’s waist. Evan never wants it to leave, and somehow, he gets the distinct feeling that Barty doesn’t want it to leave either.

“So, what do you think, Rosie?” Barty murmurs. “Shall I escort you to dinner?”

Evan smiles up at him, taking in Barty’s adoring gaze and lovely dimples. Then, because now it’s a thing he can do simply because he wants to, he tilts his head up and pecks Barty on the lips.

“That sounds lovely, Bee,” he says, then starts off towards the Great Hall.

Barty’s arm doesn’t leave his waist.

-

(The End!)

[bellatriestowritesometimes]

To Know - Part 2

aaron hotchner x reader

you can read Part 1 here!

warnings: none i don't think? just the usual angst.

tags: @jazzimac1967 mrs-ssa-hotch

word count: 6,4k

A/N: (scott foley (jake from scandal) is who i picture henry as). i'm aware that timelines don't match up, i simply just took the characters i wanted and wrote them into this story the way i needed them to fit.

**i haven't proof read this so there may be errors which i'll get to tomorrow**

hope u enjoy xx

It was 8 am when your alarm went off, however you were already awake. You hadn’t slept at all, a mixture of guilt and confusion kept you awake. Avery was still asleep next to you so you decided not to wake him.

You made your way into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water get warm whilst you slipped off your pyjamas. Once all of your clothes were off you stepped back in it and let the scolding water run down your skin. You began your shower routine but your mind was elsewhere.

You still couldn’t figure out if you regretted your actions. If you regretted going up to his room with that damn phone instead of leaving it at reception. You hadn’t thought about him for a long, long time and you were adamant that seeing him at your best friend’s wedding wouldn’t make you feel any different, but you were very obviously wrong. If you had known, you would’ve told Henry to remove him from the guest list.

You were happy with Avery is what you kept telling yourself and you never once questioned that until today.  Henry was the one that introduced you to one another and you were dating for over a year before he proposed and the two of you had eloped a few months later in Rome.

That was the fastest you had let anyone in, especially someone you were dating, but you thought surely things couldn’t end up worse with Avery than they did with Hotch.

-

You were now downstairs, fully dressed with a cup of coffee in your hand. You received a text from Henry informing you that there was a change of plans. Him and Luca were going to skip brunch but he didn’t want you to miss out on spending time with your former teammates so he left the reservation in place. Henry knew you didn’t get to see all of your friends from the BAU often anymore so he thought this would be a perfect time for a catch up. He had already paid for their flights and the hotel for the weekend and thought this would be a good way to end the trip before they all had to head back home tomorrow morning.

You heard shuffling upstairs which meant that Avery was now awake as JJ and her family were staying in the guest house which was situated towards the back of your garden. A few minutes went by and there he was in the kitchen with you.

“Good morning my love,” he spoke softly and placed a kiss on the top of your head,

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked as he headed straight for the coffee machine. He was still in his pyjama bottoms and had thrown on a sweatshirt, you assumed it was because he didn’t know if you were downstairs alone or with JJ. As you watched him make his coffee, you couldn’t ignore the twinge of guilt that took over you.

“Just thought you deserved some extra rest,” you mustered up a small smile.

“Besides we don’t have to leave until just before 11,” you continued.

“Did you get home okay? I didn’t even hear you come in” Avery asked as he sat down opposite you.

“I did. Got in just after half past 3 I think, you were already asleep,” you replied and saw Avery furrow his brows slightly.

You could tell he was trying to silently work out why it had taken you close to two hours to get home when the hotel was only a 10 minute drive from where the wedding reception was, and it was only a 20 minute drive from the hotel back to your house.

“Emily threw up as soon as me and Spencer managed to get her upstairs to her room” you lied, “I stayed with her for a bit and got her settled,” you explained hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

You didn’t like lying to Avery. In fact, this was the first time you had done it, but you decided that for now you would keep what happened between you and Hotch a secret.

“That was nice of you,” he spoke and gave you a smile.

You heard someone slide the kitchen door open and turned around to see JJ making her way in with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Good morning,” she chirped and took a seat next to you.

“Morning,” you and Avery both replied in sync.

“Looks like everyone is on the caffeine first thing today,” Avery joked as he stood up and saw the grip JJ had on her mug.

“Tell me about it – I could barely get myself out of bed let alone the boys so I’ve left Will in charge of getting them ready,” she replied.

Avery had excused himself to jump in the shower, leaving just you and JJ alone in the kitchen. 

You indulged in light conversation with her about the wedding yesterday, leaving the minuscule detail of you sleeping with Hotch out. She was showing you the pictures she had taken on her phone and you did the same.  She was swiping through pictures of Emily and Rossi until she got to one with Beth and Hotch. Her thumb hesitated slightly over her phone as she decided on what to do. She eventually continued swiping to the left, showing you the rest of the photos she had taken.

“Did you get a chance to speak with him last night?” She treaded lightly as she locked and laid her phone down to one side.

“Uhm no not really,” you lied once again. Although that wasn’t a complete lie because you genuinely didn’t… You were busy doing other things to him.

“Are you going to…?” she questioned sympathetically.

You let out a sigh, not out of annoyance but out of defeat. You couldn’t deny that you wanted closure, to know why he did the things he did. You weren’t stupid, you could piece most of the parts together, but you longed for the explanation to come out of his mouth and not out of your head. But that was something you were too stubborn to admit out loud. You had acted like this didn’t hurt as much as it did. You had put on a happy face for everyone and pretended that everything was okay and that you were fine, until one day it began feeling like this could eventually be okay, and that one day you were going to be fine and move past this. 

And you truly felt like you had reached that point, up until now where everything you had suppressed was coming back up.

“You need closure Y/N,” JJ said as if reading your mind. “I know it’s been years since the incident and you both have moved on but do you really want to waste any more time trying to figure things out on your own when you have the chance to do it now with him?” She placed her hand over yours, giving it a squeeze of encouragement.

“Just this once swallow your pride and go get the closure you deserve,” she finished.

-

The drive to brunch didn’t take long, you and Avery had taken both of your cars. JJ and the boys came with you whilst Avery and Will followed behind. It was a sunny day out and you welcomed the warmth you felt as you stepped out of the car. You had been to this brunch place several times with Avery before. It was a cosy little restaurant decorated with plants and flowers, with large floor to ceiling windows looking over the seating outside in the garden, which was where Henry had booked out a large table for everyone.

You made your way through the little restaurant until you reached the doors leading out to the garden area, you noticed everyone else was already seated and immersed in light conversation between themselves. Emily was sat at the end of the table so you took the free seat on her left with Avery sitting next to you. Opposite you sat Penelope and right next to her sat Beth along with Hotch.

You greeted Beth politely as you sat down, avoiding Hotch but you could feel his eyes on you.

-

The atmosphere seemed easy going as you all waited for the food and you had managed to avoid any direct conversation with Hotch or Beth, until the topic of wedding locations had come around.

“I don’t think I asked you where the two of you got married?” Beth asked innocently, aiming the question towards you and Avery.

Your eyes briefly shifted to Hotch who was watching you attentively. Bringing your eyes back to Beth, you answered her question.

“Rome” you said, “We got eloped in Rome,” you gave her a smile and placed your hand on Avery’s as you turned to him, your eyes silently begging for him to take this conversation over.  

“Aw that sounds so lovely!” Beth replied.

“Yeah it was quite sudden actually, we had been engaged for a few months and were on holiday and just decided to do it then and there…” Avery continued explaining, but you had zoned out completely and all you could focus on was Hotch, and the way his eyes hadn’t moved from yours since Beth’s question.

….

“I can’t believe we’re married,” you whispered in disbelief to your husband as he held you close during your first dance.

“I know. I am the luckiest man alive,” Hotch whispered back as his lips grazed gently over your ear.

He wasn’t much of a dancer and you knew he hated the attention so the two of you gently swayed to the music whilst your friends surrounded and watched in awe, probably all just as relieved that this day had finally come, knowing they didn’t have to watch you and Hotch hide your feelings for each other any longer.

“I want to go to Rome,” you declared softly, “just you and me, away from everyone and everything for a little while.”

“We can go wherever you want baby. I’ll have the flights booked for first thing tomorrow” he agreed.

The music continued to play and you moved closer to Hotch, resting the side of your head on his chest, feeling him breathe in and out which brought you some sort of tranquillity.

Everything after that happened in slow motion. Your breath was suddenly knocked out of you and your whole body felt almost on fire. You couldn’t understand what was happening, until you felt another blow to your chest. You had looked down, and what was once a white wedding dressed had now quickly turned into a deep shade of red.

You felt your legs give way and felt Hotch’s arms wrap around your waist in an attempt to catch you and gently lay you down. You remembered him taking off his blazer and using that to try and stop the bleeding that was coming from your chest. You could see his lips move and you could hear the commotion around you but couldn’t make out a thing he was saying. It wasn’t long until your vision got worse and the blurriness took over.

…..

“I’ve never been to Rome,” Beth’s voice brought you back to reality, “I’d love to visit one day.”

“You should, its beautiful,” you replied and looked at Beth bringing your attention to her instead of Hotch.

“Just going to use the ladies room,” you said quietly to Avery as you stood up and excused yourself.

You were trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill as you rushed to the nearest bathroom. You didn’t know if it was your mind playing tricks but you could’ve sworn you felt someone run after you. Your suspicion was quickly confirmed as you saw a hand reach in as you were shutting the bathroom door. You hesitated slightly and considered slamming the door shut anyway, but Hotch had used a bit more force and managed to get the door open just enough for him to squeeze in.

You turned away from him and gripped the sink as you threw your head down. You really didn’t want to do this, especially not now but you heard the lock click and knew he wouldn’t let you leave until you had spoken things through.

“Can we talk about what happened last night?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth.  The bathroom was already small enough as it is and it had now felt even smaller with Hotch standing behind you watching your every move. The air felt thick and your heart was beginning to race.

“Nothing happened Hotch, it was a mistake. A mistake that you need to move on from instead of locking me in a bathroom and forcing me to give you an explanation - I’m not the one who needs to explain myself!” You raised your voice slightly and turned around to finally face him.

“Have you told Avery?” He asked calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Have you told Beth?” You retaliated getting visibly annoyed.

“No,” he stated simply as you looked away trying to focus on a painting that was hung on the wall.

The more you looked at him the more you wanted to crumble and you hated that. It made you feel weak. You had your own way of dealing with your emotions, which frequently involved supressing everything down and acting like everything was fine. Although it wasn’t the healthiest way of coping, it helped you become stronger. But there stood the man that was going to completely break down the wall you had spent so long trying to build up in a matter of seconds. 

“I wrote to you every day,” were the next words that fell out of his mouth.

“Where? In your diary?” You questioned knowing damn well you hadn’t received a single letter, email, text or call.

“I wrote you letters every single day,” he kept his tone gentle and calm as he tried moving closer to you.

“I didn’t receive a single fucking thing from you aside from the divorce papers!” You spat trying to take a step back but that was as far as you could go without falling into the sink.

“Maybe you should speak to Henry about that,” he replied dryly.

“So let me get this straight. You followed me into the bathroom, have practically trapped me in here just so you could blame my best friend for your own actions-“

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he interrupted to defend himself.

“That’s exactly what you’re doing Hotch, and the worst part is you’re telling me all of this now when Henry isn’t here to speak for himself!” You were having none of it. You couldn’t believe the audacity he had to try and spin this on Henry, who was the one that was actually there by your side when you needed him to be.

“Y/N I did what I thought was best. What everyone thought was best to keep you and Jack safe. I tried reaching out to you once Jack and I were safe to come out of witness protection, but you sent me a letter saying that you’ve moved on with your life, and that it was best for us to go our own separate ways.” He took another step closer trying to grab you but you pushed him away.

“Get away from me!” You warned as you tried to process everything that he was saying.

“Y/N please. Why would I lie to you? Do you really think that low of me?” You could hear the desperation in his voice once again, just like you heard it the first time in his hotel room. 

“You don’t want to know the answer to that,” you let out a laugh. You felt dizzy, like the rug had just been pulled from beneath your feet. You could hear what he was saying but none of it was making sense, or you didn’t want it to make sense because that would mean the one person who was pretty much the only family you ever had, had spent years lying to you.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, you didn’t deserve to go through any of it. You may not think much of me now but you have to believe that I didn’t want for any of this to go the way that it did. It killed me leaving you behind, not knowing if you were going to be okay or not. I waited until you were out of surgery but I couldn’t stay any longer without putting anyone else at risk.” He was finally saying all the things you wanted to hear but instead of them bringing you comfort or relief they brought you anger and pain.

“You need to go,” you tried to keep your voice steady.

“Please just go, I need a minute,” you spoke as you turned your back to him once again, trying to focus on the sink that was in front of you.

After a few moments had passed, you eventually heard the lock click again and the sound of the door shutting told you he left. You walked back to it and locked the door once again ensuring you had the privacy that you wanted.

You let out a sob that you were trying so hard to contain when Hotch was in here with you. Your hands flew to your mouth in an attempt to stop the uncontrollable cries you were letting out. You let yourself have 3 minutes to get everything out of your system before you left the bathroom and made your way back to your seat.

You looked just as you did when you left and no one even batted an eye when you came back.

“Everything all good?” Avery leaned into you.

“Yes love, just got a text from Henry. I’ll need to stop at his once we’re done here if that’s okay? Something about a case he’s working on,” you lied to your husband once again, but it was absolutely believable. Henry was a workaholic so Avery didn’t even question why he was working on a case just a day after his wedding.

Once everyone had drank, ate and spoke as much as they could you all decided that it was time to wrap the afternoon up. The group began dispersing with some going to do some sightseeing, some going to do shopping and some had headed back to the hotel.

JJs family had decided to do some sightseeing and decided to walk from the brunch place so you didn’t have to worry about driving them anywhere, but you and Avery offered to pick them up once they were done.

Your incident with Hotch had left you feeling even more confused than before and there was only one other person you could go to for answers. Avery had some errands to run and you told him you might be a while with Henry so that pretty much cleared the rest of the afternoon for you.

You made your way to Henry’s and Luca’s apartment, you weren’t sure if they were going to be home but that didn’t matter as you had the spare key that Henry had given you.

-

You had banged several times on their door and were about to use your spare key until Luca opened it.

“Hey what are you doing here?” Luca asked, surprised to be seeing you.

“Where is he?” You yelled as you stormed into their home, completely ignoring Luca’s question.

“He’s in his office, is everything okay? Has something happened? What’s he done now?” He questioned whilst trying to catch up with you as made your way to Henry.

The door to the room was slightly ajar and he was sat behind his task typing away on his computer.

“Where are they?” You shouted angrily, marching into his office.

“Where’s what?” Henry replied not even lifting his eyes away from the laptop.

“The letters Henry!” You called out and slammed his laptop shut almost trapping his fingers.

“What the hell was that?!” He asked as he abruptly stood up from his seat.

“What letters? What the hell are you on about Y/N?” He continued but once he took a good look at your face his confusion was replaced with realisation.

“You know exactly what I’m on about,” you hissed, “the letters that Hotch had sent me. You know the ones you forgot to tell me about?”

You heard Luca mumble an ‘oh god’ before he turned around and left the two of you in his office.

“Fine! You’re not going to tell me where they are I’ll just fucking find them myself!” You spat and began pulling everything out of his cabinets leaving a sea of papers all over his floor.

“Okay! Alright! I will give them to you, just please stop and let me explain,” Henry finally blurted out after having enough of watching you wreck his office.

You stopped in your tracks and watched him as he moved to a cupboard near his desk which had a safe inside. You heard him enter his pin and shuffle around inside until he pulled out a shoe sized box.

He cautiously handed it over to you, and you took one of the seats opposite the desk Henry was sitting behind before you stormed in there. You opened the box slowly and began pulling the contents out. It was filled with letters; some were opened some were not but it looked like there was close to a hundred of them in there. You couldn’t stop your hands from shaking as you tried opening an envelope that was on top, and immediately recognised the handwriting as you eventually pulled the letter out.

“What is this…” you whispered “Why do you have these?” You began taking more out, skimming over the writing.

“Why do you have these?” You asked again but this time a lot louder.

“Henry why the hell do you have these?!” You asked for the third time whilst shoving them back into the box and standing up.

“I can explain everything Y/N but you need to promise me that you’ll see my side of this too,” Henry pleaded.

“Promise you? You think you’re in a position to be demanding promises?? You’ll be lucky if I ever talk to you again after this! Now you better start explaining why you have kept these from me for all these years!” You swallowed the sick that was rising up your throat.

“You have to understand that I didn’t want you to end up like Haley…” he began, “I was scared of losing you okay? I couldn’t live with myself if you had ended up dead and I did nothing to protect you. So myself, Rossi, and Hotch all agreed that it was best to put Jack and Hotch into witness protection as soon as possible once we realised that it was Peter Lewis who shot you. He was stalking both you and Jack for weeks before you got shot. You were still in surgery and it wasn’t looking good so we agreed that whatever the outcome was going to be, that I’d stay with you at all times and as soon as we would get the OK from the doctors we would have you moved to a private hospital in London.” Henry explained, but you already knew this information.

“Henry – I already know all of this. Can we skip to the part where you tell me why on earth you hid all of these letters?”

“I am getting there Y/N. Hotch only agreed to go into witness protection if he could still get updates on how you were doing which we agreed would come from me. Once you had come out of your coma and understood what had happened I had obviously told Hotch the good news. He wanted to reach out to you, but I thought it was too risky as we had gotten nowhere in locating Peter Lewis and I didn’t want to endanger you again. We then eventually agreed that I would set a PO box up where he could send you letters, which was still too risky for my liking but he wouldn’t give up. You were recovering well and it was such a relief to know that you were going to be okay...” He paused, “but then Lewis had kidnapped Tara’s brother and managed to escape once again, and that was enough of a reason for me to keep all of his letters away from you and ask Hotch to divorce you.“

Your mouth had practically fallen on the floor after you heard his last sentence.

“But that wasn’t your choice to make Henry,” you began sobbing.

“I know but I didn’t care Y/N. I was not going to have you at risk again, and this time if Peter Lewis came looking, you wouldn’t be a target anymore. Hotch had left you after you were shot and served you with divorce papers. That didn’t sound like much of a reason for Lewis or anyone else, wanting to get to Hotch to come after you again.”

There was a few minutes of complete silence before you spoke again.

“And what about me? What about how I was feeling or what I wanted?” You cried. “How could you do this to me? I am not some doll that you get to play with and control!” You felt the angriness come back in full force.

“How could you face me every single day knowing that you were lying about something this big and not have an ounce of guilt? How many times did you listen to me cry over Hotch and what a fucking mess my life had become and never once did you have the decency to tell me the truth!” You yelled.

“I was going to tell you everything once Lewis was caught but when that day came you were seeing Avery and you were starting to look and act more like yourself and I thought that it was better to not bring the past back up, so I decided to keep the letters to myself and-”

“You wrote one back to Hotch pretending it was me, telling him that it was best to go our separate ways,” you finished his sentence.

“You make me sick,” you uttered as you stood up and made your way towards the door not wanting to be in his presence any longer.

“That’s okay you can hate me all you want. I’d rather have you spend the rest of your life hating me than for you to not be here at all.” Henry replied.

“And I would do it all again if I had to!” You heard him yell as you left his office.

You made eye contact with Luca who was sitting at his kitchen island. He gave you a sympathetic smile knowing how cruel Henry could be when he wanted to.

“He’s despicable,” you sighed in defeat.

“I know. But he cares about you,” Luca replied.

Without saying anything else you left the apartment, making a run to the nearest bin and had threw up everything you ate at brunch.

-

You had spent what felt like hours in your car, reading through the notes and letters that Hotch had sent you. He had wrote to you almost everyday up until him and Jack came out of witness protection.

His letters were filled with apologies and things you had never gotten the chance to hear him say to you. They felt intimate, like he had taken the contents of his heart and spilled everything out on pieces of paper.

Once you had enough of torturing yourself you decided it would be best to head home. So you took the longest route back hoping the drive would help clear your head. That’s what everyone always says, that they’re going for a drive to help clear their head. Well they’re liars because you felt no different when you pulled up to your house. You felt like you needed to down at least 4 bottles of wine and that’s what you decided to do.

You noticed that Avery’s car was still gone and none of the lights inside your house were on. Part of you was relieved that he wasn’t home. He knows you well enough to know when somethings wrong no matter how well you try to hide it, and this was the last thing you wanted to explain to him.

You had grabbed the most expensive bottle of wine you had along with a glass and set up camp on your sofa, intending to completely drown your sorrows and be too drunk to explain anything to Avery once he finally gets back home.

You were well into the first bottle when you heard shuffling in the kitchen and JJ popped her head into the living room.

“Hey I didn’t know you were home, I thought you were still out, come sit!” You patted the seat next to you.

“Yeah we were, but the boys were shattered so we came back home. Will and Avery both left not too long ago for a drive and said they were going to grab some food. Is everything okay?” She asked as she sat down next to you on the sofa.

“Let me get you a glass before I explain everything, trust me you’re gonna need it.”

You retuned back to the living room with a glass for JJ and another bottle of wine and then you told her everything. From the hotel room, to the bathroom incident at brunch, to when you went to confront Henry, and lastly about the letters Henry had hid from you.

By the time you fished talking, the second bottle of wine was almost empty and her face was in complete disbelief.

“Wow,” was all she could say.

“I know.. But there’s one thing that I don’t understand,” you said taking a sip of your wine and JJ nodded her head indicating for you to continue.

“Why would Hotch agree to divorce me simply because Henry said so.. I mean I can certainly blame Henry for keeping the letters from me and feeding me all these other lies but at the end of the day it takes two to tango..”

“Henry could be very persuasive when he wanted to and Hotch would’ve agreed to anything if he felt it would help keep you safe, even if it was something that he didn’t want to do,” JJ spoke softly.

“I guess..”

“They had a fight at the hospital you know,” JJ revealed with a smirk.

“They did?” You almost gasped as this was news to you.

“Yup. Me, Morgan and Rossi were outside so we didn’t see it but Henry had stormed out with a bloody nose and a cut up lip…and then the weirdest thing happened..” she paused.

“What?” You urged her to continue.

“I don’t even know how to describe it.. But once Henry left the room Hotch had let out this noise. I can’t even compare it to a cry more of a wail or something. It was frightening.. Rossi went in to check on him but told me and Morgan to wait outside,” she shrugged her shoulders slightly and neither of you were smiling anymore.

“Believe me Y/N when I tell you that this has hurt him just as much as it has hurt you. I don’t think he wanted for any of this to happen at all..” JJ finished.

You considered her point. This whole time you had thought of Hotch as almost the villain, but you were thinking what Henry wanted you to think. You never considered how he must’ve felt, to have to watch his wife get shot on your wedding day and then not be able to stay with you through better or worse without putting you or his son in further danger.

The sound of the doorbell brought you out of your thoughts but JJ was already up on her feet and offered to get it.

You split what was left of the wine between yours and JJs glasses until she was back in the living room with a wary look on her face.

“Who is it? If it's Henry tell him to go away," you said to JJ but noticed there was someone was behind her.

“No Henry just me,” you heard Hotch speak as he moved from behind JJ and was now standing next to her.

“I’m uh going to check on the boys,” she announced as she grabbed her wine glass and disappeared from the living room.

"May I come in?" Hotch asked as he shifted his weight from one foot to another with his hands in his pockets.

"Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay from earlier." He kept his tone soft and gentle just like he did when he had followed you into the bathroom.

You couldn't believe that this was still the same day and it still hasn't ended.

"Well I'm obviously not Aaron, you were right," you sighed in defeat and watched him take a seat next to you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered for what had felt like the hundredth time.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what else to say. Without realising the both of you were now inches apart, with your eyes on the ceiling whilst Hotch watched you from the side.

"We're horrible people," you mumbled and turned to face Hotch.

"I think we're just two people who are still in love," he replied as though it was the simplest answer in the world. As though it didn't matter that both of you had cheated on your partners.

"It doesn't matter, you're with Beth and I'm married to Avery."

"I know, but if things had been different you would still be married to me," you heard him say as one of his hands gently cupped your face and his thumb traced the outline of your lips.

The gesture alone was enough to make you melt into his skin. You had missed his touch so much.

"But they're not, you have a flight to catch and I have a life here.."

"I would move here for you. I would move to wherever you wanted me to. I would wait until Jack's finished school and we could both move here, all you have to do is just say the word, it would be a fresh start for him and me."

He was talking like a crazy person. You would never make him and Jack move to another country. It wouldn't be fair on Jack having to leave all his friends and family behind and start all over at a new school, that poor boy has gone through enough. In all the years you had known Hotch he never did anything on a whim, he always thought everything out to the last minuscule detail, so to hear him say that he would up and move his and Jack's whole life made you feel like he hadn't thought this out properly.

"But I don't want you to," you lied to yourself and to Hotch. "You ever thought that all of this has happened for a reason?"

"Please don't tell me you're into signs now, you're a profiler you should know better," Hotch rolled his eyes and you could see a small smile playing on his lips.

"Don't you dare laugh at me Aaron," you gave him a playful shove on his shoulder and at that point he couldn't contain his smile or his laughter.

The sound of him laughing was intoxicating and you couldn't hide your own smile that was now sprawled across your face as you joined in. You had to laugh or else you would cry.

"I'm serious, we already had one chance and look at the way that turned out. Maybe this is for the best.." You said as the laughter died down reminding you of what the reality was.

The light from Hotch's eyes and his smile were now gone, replaced by a stoic expression.

"You should get back to Beth Aaron, we're only making this worse for ourselves," you spoke and placed one of your hands on his knee giving it a squeeze and began standing up.

"I don't want to leave you again," you heard him quietly say as he followed your lead and stood up.

You didn't reply, you just slowly walked through your hallway and stopped at your front door.

"So I guess this is a goodbye?"

"I guess it is.." As much as you didn't want it to be, your gut was telling you that this was the right thing to do.

You took one last look at him as he took one last look at you, neither of you wanting this to be the end.

"Take care of yourself Y/N."

"Wait!" You called out.

"Kiss me before you go!"

And that's exactly what he did. He took three long strides to get to you and wrapped one of his arms around your waist whist the other ran through your hair as he pulled you in. All the tension between the both of you unravelled in the kiss. You parted your mouth allowing him to slip his tongue in, feeling his hot breath against your lips. It wasn't a soft, gentle kiss it was rough and longing. You had spent many nights thinking about how he would taste, how his mouth would feel on yours, and now that it's finally happened you didn't know how you could ever survive without him.

You were both almost gasping for air as he pulled away.

"Go before I change my mind," you breathed.

"But just call me sometime," you added as he placed one last kiss on your lips before leaving.

[the-simple-creature]

Nuzi, Envy, and Vizzy. The big three of MD ships.

A big post about comparing these great ships and the reasons why people love them.

Reason #1: colors

N and Uzi are on nigh polar opposite ends of the color wheel, very obviously fitting their nigh polar opposite personalities.

V and Lizzy, while still very different from each other, aren’t quite as opposite as N and Uzi. Their colors more… accentuate each other rather than fully contrast. Again, very fitting.

N x V is very different from the prior two. Their colors don’t show how different they are but instead how similar they are… at least at first. At first it showed that they were cut from the same cloth, it felt like they were meant to be together. Now, in yellow, it feels like a reminder of how far they’ve grown apart.

Reason #2: dynamics

This one is probably a lot less complicated to explain.

Nuzi is two very common but very loved tropes combined: The “Two loveable dumbasses get up to shenanigans” trope and the all too familiar “opposites attract” trope. Somehow resulting in the queerest straight couple known to man, and we love it.

The Vizzy Dynamic is both really hard and really easy to explain because it has multiple different parts and interpretations and is not cannon (yet). The interpretation that most people in the Vizzy Nation have is Lizzy simply not fearing V and V being very confused but not necessarily disliking it. Also, two “tsundere” -type characters put together really can’t go wrong.

Envy, oh Envy. I’m so sorry, Envy and Envy enjoyers, but I honestly much prefer it in the past tense than the present tense. The “dynamic” of Envy to me is that it was so simple and so perfect, but it was just never meant to be. It is a very tragic and realistic story. I like Envy, not as a ship per se, but as a story.

I was wrong.

Reason #3: IDK bonus canonicity/legacy round

This is almost like a bonus reason because any sane shipper (oxymoron) doesn’t really care if their ship is canon, but it is a nice cherry on top!

Envy is, in a way, the ship of the past. Not in any negative way but rather a sort off… nostalgic way. A nice thing to look back on. Envy was canon, and it’s a good thing that it was.

Nuzi is the ship of “now”, as in episodes 2-8. The age where glitch is consistently supporting the show and the fandom is always awaiting the next episode. Nuzi is canon and always will be.

Vizzy, I predict, will be the ship of the future. When the only thing supporting the fandom is a bit of merch every once in a while, a few glitch inn shorts, and the fandom itself. Vizzy could be canon and nobody would complain but it will be more popular in the future.

It’s 1:30 as I’m writing this and oh god I need to go to bed.

(Feel free to add whatever you want to this!)

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess - Volume 2

Part 1

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Summary: Your early days in Alexandria with Daryl.

Warnings: injury, profanity, smut

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

        Alexandria was a hard place to get used to, and it was even harder to fit in. Not even a week in and punches had been thrown, lives had been lost, things previously swept under the rug coming to light.

       While you were thankful for the walls and the luxuries within, there was nothing you heard more dear to your heart than the peaceful nights you’d spent with Daryl since your arrival. 

        Once your group was split into two big houses, Daryl was able to lay claim to the basement in one of them, and of course that meant you’d stay there too. With your relationship in full blossom and no longer under wraps, there was no reason not to share a room.

        This particular night was one of the best so far. You’d spent most of the night fucking like rabbits, especially with access to hot running water. With bathed bodies, the possibilities and positions were endless. Nothing held you back from devouring each other like rabid beasts. 

        By the third round, though, you’d both become quite tired, yet still too wound up to sleep. So, you’d just lay there under the covers and chat. 

        “I still can’t believe Merle was your brother.” You said. “You two are so different.”

        “Yeah, well, we didn’t used to be. Used to be just as hot headed as him.” He recalled as his fingers wandered mindlessly through your hair. It was dark in your little basement now, with only the light of the moon casting through the small sliver of a window near the ceiling. 

        You propped your head up on your hand, fondly admiring your love. He fascinated you. He was always so multifaceted. 

        “Yeah. I could see it.” You smirked. He shot you a playful glare, not that you could see it so well in the dark. 

        Nights like those were hard to come by, and somehow always ended sooner than you’d like.

        He yawned and slapped a heavy hand over his face, running it down the length of his chin. 

        “Bout time we got some sleep.” He sighed. With a pout and a groan, you rolled over on your side and got comfortable. He did the same, facing the opposite direction of you, only touching by your intertwined feet at the foot of the bed. 

        Things just worked this way for a while. Until, of course, shit hit the fan, which it always seemed to do. 

        When the Wolves attacked, a lot of lives were lost within the community. Had it not been for you and Carol, it probably would have been a lot more. Despite your knack for surviving shitty situations, you didn’t escape this one unscathed. One of the Wolves you took to bat hadn’t gone down so easily. By the time it was all over, when Daryl found you after the chaos had died down, you had a machete lodged through your arm. It went through clean enough, just barely missing anything too important. You did lose a lot of blood, though, and your arm was out of commission for over a week.

         After you were all bandaged up at the infirmary, Daryl hovered over you like a cloud. Opening doors, fixing plates, tying shoes. There wasn’t a single thing he’d let you do on your own. 

        While it was sweet and chivalrous, it got old kind of fast. You hated being debilitated, and you hated being treated as such even more. 

        You figured at least a shower could be done alone and independently. You snuck off to the bathroom one afternoon and shut the door behind you, wriggling out of your clothes while the water heated up and steamed the room nicely. You took a deep breath and stepped in the hot stream, vowing to release all your frustrations as you bathed. You only had a little while longer to heal, and surely you could manage being babies for just a while longer before you snapped.

        While you were trying to find your zen and enjoy some much needed solitude, Daryl had crept in the bathroom to check in and offer help. He shoved the curtain to the side. You jumped and cursed at him; “Daryl, what the fuck?”

         “Shouldn’t be showerin’. Can’t get your bandage wet.” He said simply as he shut off the water. The absence of heat made you shiver. You crossed your working arm over your chest and clenched your jaw.

        “Daryl. I’m capable of bathing.” You seethed. He ignored your wrathful glare and switched the flow to the faucet before he plugged the drain and motioned for you to sit down. “No.” You pouted. 

        “C’mon. I’ll leave ya alone after the water fills.” He told you. Reluctantly you relented and sat down, back against the far end of the tub. 

        He sat on the side of the tub, hunched over, waiting for the water to fill so he could leave, as promised. For a while you just stared at him angrily. Why couldn’t he let you do anything on your own? He had never been so protective before. Sure, when the situation called for it, but now? It didn’t seem like such a threat to take a shower. All these things frustrated you, yet, a faint smile still rigged at the corner of your lips. 

        Here was a man who had a job, and surely better things to do, yet, every second of free time he had, he dedicated to making sure you were safe and comfortable and taken care of. Had suburban life changed him so much, so fast?

        “Wha’s that look for?” He finally asked, noticing your little smile.

        “Nothin’.” You shrugged innocently. He turned to you and glared.

        “Spit it out.” He demanded.

        “It’s just.. You’re so sweet sometimes. Even when it’s annoying.” You teased. 

        He turned the water off as it covered your body and stood up, staring down at you. His eyes wandered over your bare skin from head to toe.

        “Whatever. Jus’ don’t want ya gettin’ an infection or hurtin’ yourself any worse.” 

        “I can take care of myself, Daryl.” You sighed, shutting your eyes and sinking further into the warm bath while your injured arm remained above the water.

        “I know.” He relented. “But that don’t mean ya can’t be taken care of sometimes.”

        You opened your eyes again to find him still visually roaming over every dip and curve of your naked body. You smirked. 

        “Like what ya see?” You taunted in a sultry tone. He ran his tongue over his teeth.

        “Don’t get no ideas. Don’t wanna hurt ya.” He said, trying to shut you down before you got him going. It was too late, though, as your free hand had already begun to trail over your breasts and down between your thighs. He watched you for a bit as you teased yourself, his mouth just slightly agape. He often found himself wondering how he bagged such a fine damsel. 

        As you traced a finger up and down your slit, he sighed and gave in. He crouched down beside you and dunked his hand in the water.

        “Need some help?” He offered softly. You grinned and chewed on your bottom lip, pulling your hand back up to your breasts to make room for him.

         He wasted no time. His hand found your mound and teased little trails up and down our slit just to watch the way you absentmindedly squirmed for his touch. He always felt a little nervous or self conscious when things started to get heated between you two, but somehow your body language always brought him back down to earth. Your movements always reminded him how badly you wanted him.

        He slipped one finger inside you first, curving it and massaging while his thumb rubbed over your clit. You allowed tiny sounds to escape you, trying to be conscious of the others in the home who might be around to hear you.

        When the second finger joined the first, you gasped. Your hips moved around rhythmically as they reacted to the pace at which he massaged your sensitive walls. 

        “Still wanna take care o’ yourself?” He whispered. “Cause I can stop.”

        “No.” You whined. “Please.” 

        He smirked. Truth be told, your neediness was a much welcome contradiction to your irritation with him since you’d hurt your arm.

        “But I thought ya—“

         He went to keep teasing you but you cut him off again.

         “No. No. I don’t. I want this.” You rambled breathlessly as he built you up more and more. It was like there was a coil in your lower half, winding and winding up until it was so tight you couldn’t breath. 

        He could tell you were getting close so he kept his movements steady. 

        “Sshhh..” He cooed as your sounds got a little louder. You slapped your free hand over your mouth to muffle your voice as you began to teeter over the edge. Voices could be heard outside the bathroom door as the other dwellers of the house came upstairs and got ready for bed. He could just barely make out someone asking who was in the bathroom taking so long. “Y’almost done?” He whispered. You nodded quickly, hoping he’d take you all the way before someone came knocking. 

        Right on cue, your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you sucked in a sharp breath. Tremors quacked through you as you let out a shaky moan into your hand. The coil had snapped, and you hadn’t cum that hard in a while. 

        When your high has simmered back down, he gave you a moment to collect yourself before he was helping you up and drying you down. 

        “Must’ve needed that.” He smirked. “That attitude o’ yours was gettin’ kinda old.”

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