#I'm BEGGING someone to write this fic please I can't do this myself

[redeemingvillains]

the apothecary's rebel - mattheo riddle

summary: hogwarts' bad boy can't seem to find a way to stay out of the infirmary where you're working to become a healer, but as the stakes get higher, you struggle to understand if you're simply a means to an end, or something much more.

word count: 4k

warnings: mentions of severe injury, broken bones, blood, etc.

a/n: this is so tropey and i'm not sorry about it! credit as always to the lovely @pizzaapeteer who has definitively determined that mattheo's favorite quidditch team is the falmouth falcons, which i will faithfully honor in every fic that i write.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, he had rivulets of blood pouring from his nose, crimson and amber; it stained his white collared shirt and seeped into his emerald tie and dark robes but despite it, he was smiling, laughing actually as his eyes glinted at Professor McGonagall who was dragging him alongside her into the infirmary.

"Please, Professor" he implored, "I can't help myself when someone runs their mouth like that, I can't, it's like a curse or something, my fist just flew to his face, what was I supposed to do?!" He was smirking as he looked at her, but she ignored his gaze as she yanked him before you.

"Enough, Mr. Riddle!" she said shrilly.

He tugged his arm out of her grasp. "I don't need the infirmary, m'fine" he huffed, rolling his eyes.

"You're dripping blood on my floor" she retorted, pointing to the maroon spots at his feet.

He glanced down and then wiped his nose with the back of his hand, smearing the blood further across his face.

"Ms. YLN!" McGonagall said, making it clear that he was your problem now as she squeezed her eyes shut in aggravation then spun on her heels and left.

You stood from your desk at once startled and awed by the situation, but Mattheo's gaze followed McGonagall out of the room.

"M'fine, I don't need anything" he repeated as he continued to swipe at the blood that wouldn't stop running.

You begged to differ as you took in the gash on the bridge of his nose, and the early signs of a black eye. You handed him a cloth which he stuffed under his nose halfheartedly, barely glancing at you, and before you could do anything else, he jogged back to the doorway, peered around the corner and disappeared.

Your week went by without anything nearly as exciting occurring beyond the normal bumps, bruises, and burns from spells and potions gone awry before you saw him again, this time of his own volition.

He caught your eye as his large framed graced the doorway. He was dressed for quidditch, still in his shoulder pads and Slytherin practice jersey. His dark curls were windblown and his cheeks were flush with exertion; sweat glistened on his brow and you thought fleetingly to yourself that no one had the right to look that sweaty and that good at the same time.

You stood from your desk to approach him, eyebrow quirked when he held up his hand by way of explanation, where two of his fingers were bent the wrong way, clearly broken. You motioned wordlessly for him to sit on the nearest cot.

He sat and immediately focused his attention out the window, peering like he was hoping to see the quidditch pitch from his vantage point.

You gathered a few supplies and approached him and he thrust out his hand, eyes never leaving the window.

"Go on then, get it over with" he said shortly. "I wanna get back to practice."

Unbeknownst to you, he was no stranger to broken bones, nor the sharp, relentless pain that came with the healing process and he was doing everything he could to steel himself for it.

Your touch was warm and tender as your fingers gently examined his hand.

"What position do you play?" you asked.

"Beater" he said simply.

You handed him a dose of healing and numbing potion, which he chugged in one go, thinking briefly that it tasted much better than he remembered.

"Are you any good?" you continued as you took the vial back from him and continued your work on his fingers.

"Are you joking?" he asked, laughing humorlessly.

You shrugged innocently, a sly smile on your lips, though you never broke your focus.

"Yeah, I'm good" he said. "Best Slytherin has seen in a while. We might actually have a chance at the cup this year if Flynt can keep his head straight and Goyle can stay sober long enough to sit on his broom."

"A daunting task" you teased.

He laughed genuinely this time, your humor enough to garner his attention and break his gaze from the window as his eyes fell on you instead, and you could feel yourself flush under his notice.

"Harpies or Cannons?" you asked, trying to guess his favorite team.

"Falcons" he said, smirking at your knowledge of quidditch.

"My brothers root for Ballycastle, but I'm partial to the Magpies" you replied.

Now he was flat out impressed and had about a million questions for you, but just as he opened his mouth to ask them, you step back and smiled.

"You're all set!"

He thought you were joking until he looked down at his carefully bandaged fingers.

"You should be able to grip your broom just fine. Put some ice on it after practice if you can, otherwise it will hurt like hell when the potion wears off."

You were gathering your supplies as he wiggled his fingers with trepidation. He felt a dull ache, but nothing more, and he could easily grasp his broom despite his mended fingers with the unique way you'd wrapped them; it'd felt better than any mending he'd had before and whether it was your talent or the deft way you'd distracted him, he couldn't stop himself from muttering "S'bloody brilliant."

"Thanks" you said genuinely, feeling the heat return to your cheeks as you shot him a playful smirk of your own. "Best Ravenclaw's seen in a while" you teased, echoing his words from earlier before you walked back to your desk.

The rest of the afternoon you found your thoughts wandering between the books you were trying to study and the boy with dark curls and a smirky grin who seemed magnetized to mischief, how even the brush of your fingers against his strong, calloused hands had had you struggling to focus on healing, the very thing that came most naturally to you.

You were both happy and disappointed that you didn't see him soon thereafter, glad perhaps that he was keeping himself out of trouble and in one piece. You caught glimpses of him occasionally in the busy corridor between classes or in the Great Hall surrounded by his raucous group of friends, but you tried your level best not to stare, in turn missing his equally ardent attempts to catch your eye.

It was perhaps three weeks later that you awoke late on a Saturday night to a muffled pounding on your bedroom door. Bright moonlight shone through your curtained window as you struggled to get your bearings and the pounding relented, heavy and urgent.

Occasionally, Madam Pomfrey summoned you in an emergency and your heart trilled as you pulled a large sweater over your lace and silk pajamas. You moved quickly to open the door, only to find Mattheo slumped and leaning against your doorway.

He swung his head to look at you with noticeable effort and you couldn't hold in your gasp as you took in his face, scraped and dirty with a large cut on his eyebrow that you were already calculating would need stitches, and a smaller but sizable cut to match on his lip. His mouth was bloodied and the gash on the bridge of his nose was back.

"Gods, Mattheo" you whispered as you reached for him. "Let's get you down to the infirmary."

"S'four inthe mornin' m'not gonna explain to them why I looklike this" he said, his speech slurring as he moved to brush past you into your room.

"Can'tyou fix me n'here?" he asked, as he swayed and you moved to support his weight.

"I-I don't have what I need, I don't have any numbing potion..." you tried to say.

"Can't hurt more'n it already does" he huffed as he sat on your bed.

The sight of him there, rumpling your sheets caught every last word in your throat and you busied yourself grabbing what you could to buy time to still your racing heart.

"What happened?" you asked, finally.

"Me'n the boys got into one" he said, not offering more in the way of an explanation as he glanced around your room, making you feel exposed.

"And where are they?" you asked, glancing for a moment back at the door like they might follow him in.

"I wasn'about to drag five ofus n'here" he said with a smirk.

I wanted you all to myself he thought as he tried with significant effort to focus on you as you came to stand between his spread legs. Your sweater was falling off of your shoulder to reveal thin, silk pajamas that covered next to nothing; your hair was rumpled and wavy with sleep, giving you a relaxed and tousled look that had his mind racing with the image of you tangled in your sheets.

You held his chin softly in your hand, turning his head slowly to the right and to the left. You could smell firewhiskey on him, and could see the pupils of his eyes blown wide as they looked unwavering at you in a way that made your legs feel like jelly.

"You might have a concussion" you said quietly, focusing on the facts instead of the fantasy in front of you.

"Probably" he agreed, his voice thick and raspy.

Your eyes shifted from his strong gaze to focus on his hands, attentively wiping away the dirt, gravel and blood from his knuckles, your fingers running down his palms. His eyes fluttered, thinking you had no right to make him feel this good by touching his hands, and then immediately he thought about your touch anywhere, everywhere else.

You leaned further into him to attend to the cut on his eyebrow, softly whispering the spell to mend it, close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin and he closed his eyes in earnest, letting your words wash over him, calming him from what had been an intense and violent night; they didn't flutter open again until you gently touched his lip.

"Sorry, did that hurt?" you asked.

"S'other ways you could make it feel better" he said, smiling widely in way that set a twinkle in his eye.

"Very funny" you said, redoubling your efforts, without realizing that for once he wasn't joking.

He reached out a hand to grab your waist, attempting to pull you into him, but you mistook it for an effort to steady himself and set a hand on his shoulder.

With the amount of alcohol in his system you thought, there is little to no chance he remembers any of this.

Mattheo woke with a throbbing headache and for the life of him he couldn't piece together why his friends visibly looked like they'd lost a brawl, while he looked...fine; his hands and face were clean and his split lip and eyebrow were reduced to small cuts and scrapes, nearly healed.

He had a foggy memory, like a dream, of you tracing your fingers over his lip, a touch he retraced now like he could feel you on his skin, could feel your warmth from being pulled out of bed, and then he remembered how good you'd smelled, like vanilla and amber... Had he really gone to your room in the middle of the night? He would almost be embarrassed if he didn't feel so fucking smitten about it.

The group dragged themselves to breakfast, hoods drawn; Theo even sported an oversized pair of sunglasses, whether to cover his black eye or to abade his hangover, no one was sure. They were talking in rasp whispers about the night before when Mattheo caught sight of you leaving the Great Hall with a few of your friends, his feet moving on autopilot towards you before he knew what he was doing, breaking rank to his friends' bewilderment.

"Hey" he said, catching your attention. "I-uhh, thanks for last night, I guess" he smiled, even as he carded his hand through his hair, a bit abashed.

"I am genuinely surprised you remember any of it" you said, laughing.

"F'course I do" he said confidently.

"So, you'll keep your promise then?" you retorted as you cocked your head expectantly.

Promise? What fucking promise?

"Yeah, of course I will" he said, even as his mind drew a complete blank on what you were referring to.

Your eyebrows shot up as a wide smile graced your lips and you crossed your arms, ready to challenge him before you were interupted.

"—Wait, is this her?" Theo barged in, pushing Mattheo aside, the others following closely behind.

"Can she look at my nose?" Draco tried. "I think that fucker broke—"

"—No. Stop, stop it." Mattheo said, dragging them away from you gruffly as you laughed, waving to Enzo who was waving eagerly to you despite Mattheo's efforts to contain him.

Your cheeks were crimson. He'd told his friends about you.

That giddiness carried you throughout your day. You felt like you were floating from class to class, like a fifth house ghost, your spirits high even as you resigned yourself to the infirmary that evening while the rest of the school made their way to the quidditch pitch for the final game of the season, the House Cup: Slytherin versus Gryffindor.

A dark storm had settled over the mountains and the last of the sun disappeared behind large, black clouds that brought with them torrential wind and rain that you watched cascade in sheets against the windows. You were disappointed to be missing the game, missing the chance to watch Mattheo play, but you were also happy to be inside, dry and warm.

You settled into your book, trying your best to enjoy it, but you found yourself reading and re-reading the same sentence over and over again, unable to clear your mind from the night before, the way Mattheo settled effortlessly on your bed in a way that even now had your stomach clenching, the way his dark eyes followed you in the white moonlight, the way he smiled under caked blood and the warmth and softness of his skin and his lips under your fingertips; and finally the way he'd grabbed you, perhaps stronger than he'd intended, fingers pressing into the thin silk that covered you, leaving imprints on your skin. Your heart was racing and you felt warm at the memory as you set your book down and exhaled shakily.

It wasn't a moment later that you heard a commotion in the corridor, loud voices and shuffling feet before a large group burst through the doors, professors and students crowding around two quidditch players, the sight making your heart constrict in your chest, until you noticed a red jersey on one and the flash of Draco Malfoy's bright blonde hair on the other. You scurried to help guide him to a cot as he groaned, his eyes squeezing in pain as a gash on his forehead dripped blood down the side of his face.

"What the hell happened?!" you asked Professor Sinistra who had a deep frown set on her face.

"The storm is making it impossible to see anything, they should have cancelled the damn match" she said. "These two collided and there's another one coming - he tried to grab Malfoy and took a bludger straight to the knee before falling 60 feet to the ground."

Draco continued to writhe in pain in front of you and Professor Sinistra was still talking but she sounded distant, almost underwater, because dread and fear had settled over you. Somehow you knew before you turned around that the third player was Mattheo, and you glanced over your shoulder in time to see him being supported between Theo and Blaise.

He was limping on one leg as the other dragged uselessly beneath him. He was soaked through, his hair stuck to his forehead and his jersey stuck to his skin. He was covered in mud and his face was like stone, marble white as he stared sternly at a spot on the ground, jaw clenched.

You dropped what you had been doing, rudely brushing past Professor Sinistra and rushed to his side.

"Here, put him here" you said to Theo and Blaise, leading them to an empty cot.

"Nahh - fuck - get someone else" Mattheo said sharply in a way so cutting and raw that you froze, like his words had struck you like a charm.

"W-What?" you said as the boys lowered him to the bed, exchanging glances.

"You heard me YLN. Get someone else!" he said angrily, almost yelling.

You turned to face the rest of the infirmary which was in a state of utter chaos between the nurses, students and professors running back and forth; the raging storm outside cracked and boomed, setting you further on edge.

Tears welled in your eyes at how overwhelmed you were and how angry Mattheo was. Your head was spinning. Clearly he didn't care about you at all, you had been a convenience, a means to an end, someone who could patch him up when he was too drunk to go to the infirmary, and he'd used his good looks and charm on you like he did everyone else to get what he wanted. You had been an utter fool. Now his injuries were serious and he wanted someone with experience, not some girl to exchange flirty banter with.

Your eyes scanned the room again and you swiped angrily at your cheeks as several tears escaped.

"Well, there isn't anyone else, Mattheo" you said, the realization hitting you simultaneously that you were responsible for him.

He groaned in annoyance and threw his head back on his pillow, which Theo and Blaise thankfully took as their cue to go. You drew the curtains behind them, struggling to calm yourself, to get a semblance of control.

"You took a bludger to the knee?" you asked. "What else, where does it hurt?"

He was silent, face grimaced, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"Suppose I'll just have to undress you and find out for myself then?" you tried. But even that didn't work as he remained quiet and shame and embarrassment set over you.

You took a steadying breath and quickly wiped another errant tear away before approaching him cautiously, moving to unlace his boots as gently as you could, but even that caused him to tense. Delicately, you began to cut his trousers from the bottom and within three snips could you see a sicky swelling letting you know that this was bad....very bad. He'd well shattered his knee and likely broke his fibula and tibia too, his entire leg was a disaster. You had no idea how he'd remained so calm despite it all and you were worried that this might be too complex for you to mend.

You mixed him a strong healing and numbing potion and he took it from you wordlessly, gruffly. Gone was his bashful smile from this morning, the twinkle in his eye, it was like he wanted nothing to do with you, downing the potion in one go, still refusing to meet your gaze.

"Mattheo, I can't imagine how painful this must be, but I'll fix it, I-I promise" you said.

His eyes shifted darkly to you for only a moment, anger and distain clear in his gaze before he looked away again, never saying a word.

You applied just about everything you'd ever learned about mending bones, tendons, muscles and sinew and within moments of taking the potion, Mattheo had fallen into a deep sleep, allowing you to work without fear of hurting him further. It took the better part of two hours, by which time the rest of the infirmary had settled and Madam Pomfrey came to check on you. She was difficult to please, but she scrutinized your work with a sharp eye before complimenting you thoroughly, you had done it.

You were depleted, exhausted, both physically and emotionally but you didn't stop as you wiped the caked mud from Mattheo's cheeks and gingerly cut away the rest of his wet clothing, fearful he'd catch a chill, thinking you deserved some sort of medal for your level of professionalism as your fingers traced his strong muscles, veined arms and faded scars. You pulled a blanket over him, charmed to stay warm before you finally slumped into a chair at his side.

Your entire body was tense, and your muscles were sore. You let yourself catch your breath as your emotions finally caught up with you and you bit your lip to keep from crying at how foolish you felt.

Madam Pomfrey poked her head through the curtain. "You're free to go" she said quietly.

You glanced back at Mattheo before turning to her. "I think I'll stay...just in case" you whispered.

She pursed her lips knowingly before nodding curtly and walking back to her station at the far end of the room.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but eventually you fell into a fitful sleep riddled with nightmares of falling into deep darkness with nothing and no one to catch you.

Mattheo came to in a haze, enveloped in a soft warmth that brought a smile to his lips; for some reason, it reminded him of you, and it smelled like you, like warm vanilla and amber spice. As if in a dream, a memory came rushing back to him, of another time he was engulfed by you, of feeling your gentle touch on his lips in a way that made them tingle even now.

"How'sthis" he said. "I promise if I'm ever this'fucked again, and you haveta take care o'me, I'll take you ona date?" Your eyes shot to his, shining against the moonlight streaming into your bedroom and he clocked the twitch of your lip, the rose of your cheeks, Gods how he loved to make you blush. "Yeah?" you said jokingly. "Yeah" he said, feeling confident. You refocused your attention on his lip, your touch soaking through him like sunlight. "Well, for your sake, I hope that doesn't happen, you're a mess" you chided. Then, quietly, "But for mine, I look forward to it."

His heart soared and he reached for you only to come back with empty hands. He continued to grasp for you until his eyes fluttered open and he realized where he was. The memory of the game came rushing back to him, the flash of thunder and lighting, the fear of seeing his best mate falling off his broom as he raced to grab him, and then the crunch and splitting pain of his knee shattering, the scream he'd let out that was drowned by the storm.

His stomach roiled as he relived the way his friends had dragged him back to the castle, how every bump of his foot felt like torture. He tensed now, waiting for the pain, nearly nauseating himself with the memories, but he felt...nothing. A dull ached radiated from his knee and it felt stiff, but the sharpness was gone, replaced with a pulsing warmth.

His eyes blinked in the low candlelight, coming to rest on you, curled uncomfortably in a chair next to his bed, and he realized he should have known, should have recognized that you were the constant peace on the other side of his pain.

You were asleep, but your face was scrunched in discomfort, in concern and he clocked the smudge of your eye makeup, the loose strands of your hair falling on your face, and the fact that you were wearing the same clothes from earlier this morning, when he'd made you smile. Now, you looked distraught, upset and his stomach clenched as he remembered the way he'd spoken to you.

He had been in so much pain and pain is weakness he could hear in his head over and over again as he'd tried unsuccessfully to fight it. She's going to think you're weak, pathetic. He didn't want to be weak in front of you, he didn't want you to see him that way. He was proud when you mended his busted knuckles, his split lip, or even his smashed fingers, you didn't need a weak, crying git. But then he remembered the crushed look on your face as he'd yelled at you, and he realized he'd been a git all the same.

"Hey" he said, his voice coming out quieter than he'd intended, scratchy with sleep.

"Hey" he tried again.

You woke, startled. "Are you alright?" you asked, bolting upright in your chair, setting a hand on his arm. "Here, let me check your—"

"—I'm fine" he said, laughing. "More than, actually."

"Oh" you said, settling back down. "Good."

A moment of tepid silence passed between you.

"Look, m'sorry about earlier" he said, his sleep ridden voice coaxing your eyes to meet his as he opened his hand on the bed beside him, stretching it out for yours.

You hesitated, pursing your lips, and he could tell you were hurt.

"Can you keep a secret?" he tried.

You nodded.

"That fucking hurt, a lot" he exhaled as he let his vulnerability show.

"That's not really a secret. You shattered your knee, fibula and tibia, Mattheo, and you also have three bruised ribs and two more broken fingers" you said, pointing to his other hand.

"Well, would you look at that" he said smartly, twiddling his fingers back and forth.

"Draco cried harder over a hairline fracture, you'd have thought he was dying" you laughed quietly as you rolled your eyes.

Mattheo let out an earnest laugh at that before he grabbed his side.

"Do not tell him I said that—"

"—I am absolutely telling him you said that!" he said cockily as you both laughed until you fell into silence again.

He opened his palm again and you moved closer, setting your hand in his, which he enveloped in his warm grasp, gently rubbing a thumb over your fingers.

"I didn't want you to think I'm weak" he said finally, the truth settling over both of you like a blanket.

"Pain isn't weakness, Mattheo" you said simply, and the fact that in one instant you had understood exactly what he had meant had his dark chocolate eyes locked on yours.

"And anyway" you continued, "you don't have a weak bone in your body, your pain tolerance must be through the roof."

He didn't have the heart to tell you he hurt just like everyone else, he'd just had more practice with it, so he shrugged.

"Well all things considered, I feel great... thank you" he said, twirling your fingers together before tugging them gently, pulling you to sit on the bed beside him, close enough to feel the warmth between you. "I do have a couple of complaints though."

Your eyebrow quirked, suddenly serious.

"You got me nearly naked here before I could take you on that date I promised, hardly seems fair" he smirked.

You blushed, opening your mouth to defend yourself. So he did remember after all you thought.

"I'm kidding" he said lightly. "But start thinking about where I can take you. A promise is a promise."

You couldn't hide the smile on your face even as you tried, glancing into your lap, your cheeks Mattheo's favorite shade of blushed red.

"And what else?" you asked, trying to deflect.

"You missed something. I think I fucked my lip up, real bad" he said.

Your eyes twinkled as they looked at him, glancing briefly at his perfect lips, free from any mark or mar.

"I don't know, I don't see anything" you said, jokingly, taking his face in your hand, pretending to examine him.

"C'mon, c'mere you've got to get closer" he teased, pulling you into him, so your noses were nearly touching, your heart pounding in your chest.

He paused, relishing the moment, letting his fingers trace a line from your cheek to your jaw, letting your lips hover a breath away from his before he cupped your face and closed the distance between you.

He kissed you tentatively, softly, with a tenderness that made every inch of you feel like melted honey but it was only a breath before his restraint broke, intoxicated by you and every moment he'd daydreamed about the way you'd feel against him, the way you'd taste as he cupped both sides of your face and pulled you further into him. You grasped for purchase as the blanket between you slipped revealing his bare chest and you wound your arms around his bare shoulders, tangling your fingers into his hair, eliciting a muffled moan from deep within him. You nibbled his lip playfully before you pulled back, and he grasped you harder, fighting the distance.

"How's that?" you asked, breathlessly.

"Still unbearably painful, gorgeous, keep trying" he smiled against your lips before kissing you again.

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @pizzaapeteer @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @rositxespinosa @longpondlibrary @littlebookbengal @lovetaylorrussellgrr

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Hi! Love your work could you write a gavi × reader where reader is on vacation in Spain and gavi sees her from afar and he can't stop looking at reader like live at first sight and his friends see him watching you and tell him to make a move and he does and his friends tease him bc he finally found someone

Celebration fic for the 1K followers✨

Vacations with Love at First Sight -P.G6

Summary: At vacations the last thing you both thought was falling in love.

You were in delight when you got your vacations after studying so hard for five months and two weeks straight, Uni was kicking your calm, patience and sleep hours and now you were done, you were finally getting them back for another two weeks. And it may not be the whole time you'd like but it was what you get and you were going to take the best of it.

You and your friends wanted and decided (After a lot of begging to your parents), that you were going to spend the two vacations week in Ibiza, you have rented the house you were staying in for, you have the food, the restaurants, everything.

And now after three days of being there already, you were loving the idea of coming next summer to Ibiza, the place was so nice and quiet enough to reload your batteries and have a great time with your girls.

What you didn't know was that you had a little admirer looking at you three tables away.

Pablo Gavi, who was also in Ibiza with his friends after a hardworking season with the Barcelona and the National Team, had his eyes on you since the moment you walked through the door with a smile on your face.

"Would you stop looking like a creep?" Adbe, one of Pablo's friends said

"I'm not a creep"

"Please, you have been looking at the girl ever since she came here" Javi joined besides him as Pablo gave him a look "You're not even trying to hide anything" Pablo rolled his eyes as his friends laughed lightly "She's pretty"

"Yes, she is" Aurora nodded agreeing with her boyfriend

"C'mon, Pablito" Fermín smiled at his friend "Go talk to her"

"She's pretty but I don't like her. I can't distract myself with girls, I need to focus for the next season. Besides, she's with her friends, she won't pay attention to me or will just think I'm stupid"

"She won't" Aurora replied "You obviously like her, season is over now, you can relax yourself and have a great time Pablo. Girls won't distract you from anything"

"I won't go"

"Fine. I'll go"

"Aurora, what are you doing?"

"Making friends" And that's how the seven guys watched how Aurora walked over to your table and a few seconds later, you stood up grabbing a chair from the empty table besides you and invited her to sit, which she gladly did

"Oh fuck" Carlos said laughing "Your sister's amazing"

The guys were laughing while Pablo was shaking his head softly looking at you, wondering how easy was for his sister to engage a conversation, he couldn't believe it.

"Aurora's calling me" Javi said standing up

"You're leaving?"

"My girl calls" The guys laughed before Aurora appeared

"The girls are okay with you sitting with them, if you'd like"

"This is your chance, Pablito" Mario said smiling and standing up "It's okay to have someone, you know?"

"Yes, Pablo" Fermín nodded "Stop with those things going on your head, be free and happy"

Pablo sighed watching his friends go around your table, watched how you got two tables together for all of you and slowly let himself stand and walk towards you.

"Hello" He tight smiled and inmediately he was received with your smile and a wave "Where can I sit?"

"There's a seat next to Y/N" Javi said inmediately and it was as if he knew who you were, his eyes went to yours and you smiled moving your chair to the side leaving a seat free for him.

He instantly went to sit next to you with his nerves at the top of his head and actions

"Hello" He heard your voice and instantly fell in love with it, he smiled at you "Y/N Y/L/N" You stuck your hand out and he shook it

"Pablo Gavi" He smiled

"You're Aurora's brother, right?" He nods

"Sorry if she came out a bit too much" You shake your head

"She's lovely"

And that was the start of a conversation with Pablo. Both of you, hitting it off instantly, no one, not even your girl friends, dared to disrupt your conversation with the Sevillano.

"I'm gonna go and bring me another drink" You said standing up "Guys... You want a refill?"

A few "yes" came through the table as you picked their drinks

"I'll help you, girl" You best friend, Pamela said standing up

"Don't you worry, Pamela" Fermín said "Pablo can help her"

Looks were directed to Pablo "Yes, of course!" Pablo said standing up and helping you with the drinks.

You walked over and asked for the refill and as you waited, you and Pablo were in silence for the first time of the evening.

"Y/N" You heard your name being called and you turn to Pablo "What are you doing later?"

"Um- I don't know... Maybe later with the girls go to our room and watch some movie or go to the beach, why?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out?" He asked and you smile softly nodding

"Sure, where are we going? Are the guys coming as well?"

"I meant just you and me" Pablo said nodding while pointing to him and you

"Oh! Yes, of course!" Your nods and smile calmed him down "Where are we going?"

"Wherever you want to" You laugh nodding

"What time?"

"Does 5pm sound good?" You nod "Perfect. Make yourself prettier than you already are"

"You think I'm pretty?"

"I don't think you are pretty. You are pretty, I'm just lucky to see it"

"You're a charming one, Pablo" He smiled feeling the blush come to his cheeks "And a very shy one as well"

"Ay, cállate" (Oh, shut up) You laughed carefree as you were being watched by Javi, Aurora, Mario and Fermín

"Told you he was gonna do it" Mario said happily

"I'm happy for him" Fermín said

"So are we" Javi replied for him and for his sister. You came back with the drinks and instead of sitting, you remained up

"Seat's free to sit" One of your friends, Melisa joked as you laughed lightly

"I know it is but we won't sit right now"

"Why?"

"We are going on a walk" Pablo answered smiling softly "I'll bring her back before 9pm"

"You better" Your best friend, Pamela said with a smile "Take care guys"

With a smile, Javi opened his phone and went inside their group chat "Distracted already?🥴 You left your glasses"

And with that text a lot of teasing came through to the poor Sevillano, who couldn't care less about his phone at the moment, he was happy he followed his friends advice.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

[alexsoenomel]

The Reveries Of My Mind (Dean Winchester x Reader fluff/smut)

Summary: What happens when you discover you can feel someone's torment and struggles through an unexplainable bond?

"Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine."

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , vanilla sex, dreams about the reader dying --not too graphic , first person fic

Word count: 6.7k

Note: I took my time with this one. I really like it. I've been struggling to write for so long it feels good to be back. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

And a huge thank you to my wonderful beautiful best friend @ambergoddess444​ for being the best beta reader <3

I’m gonna kill him. 

I heard Sam’s voice echo in my mind as I was eating my pancakes. I looked at Dean who was stuffing his face with eggs and bacon, not really paying attention to Sam’s resting bitch face. 

STOP CHEWING SO LOUD FOR THE LOVE OF CHUCK!

I heard him again and almost choked on my milk. 

“What?” Sam asked. 

“Oh, nothing,” I answered. 

Dean just glanced at me and continued eating his breakfast. 

It was Sunday and luck was on our side because we couldn't find a case. This would happen once in a blue moon so we were quite content with having a day off. Monsters sometimes sleep.

After breakfast Sam said he was going to go and catch up on some reading while Dean and I were left alone. 

“Can I borrow Baby?” I asked, since it was July and summer was in full swing in Kansas. I wanted to forget about my job – about hunting – I wanted to go outside and feel the summer breeze in my hair in his beautiful Impala. I already knew his answer as soon as I saw his brow arch. He was very protective over his Baby; only allowed me to drive once after I begged him for my birthday. 

Absolutely not. 

“Why?” 

I crossed my arms, my lips thinned. 

“Why ask when you already gave me your answer?” 

Dean raised his eyebrows, eyes widened as we were sitting at the table opposite of each other. 

“I keep forgetting you can do that,” he said, looking away from me. 

“You keep forgetting about your mental shield,” I told him as I went to the kitchen to get myself some coffee. 

I didn't realize Dean was following me until I heard his voice. 

“I can't just sit in silence and breathe while I think about nothing.” 

“You mean to meditate?” I chuckled.

“Yeah…that.” 

I took a sip of hot coffee Sam made after breakfast and turned around to face him. 

“You have to strengthen your shield, Dean.” 

“There has to be another way,” he said desperately as he poured coffee into his black mug. 

“No there isn't, I told you. Everyone has a mental shield, but the reason why I can hear people's thoughts 99% of the time is because their shield is not strong enough. And how do you strengthen your shield? You shut up and meditate. Focus on it and build it.” 

Dean wasn't pleased as he took another sip of his coffee. 

“Sam meditates, can you still hear his thoughts?” 

“I can, because it takes years to actually strengthen the damn shield and he started meditating six months ago.” 

He just rolled his eyes as we went back to the library. 

“I don't want you in my head,” he stated. 

“I cannot help it, dumbass. Can I take the car or not?” 

Dean took the keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of my face. I tried to take them but he refused to give them to me. 

Typical.

“I'm driving,” he told me with a smirk. 

***

“Where do you want to go?” He asked me as I closed the car door. 

“I don't have any particular destination in mind. I just wanted to drive around and listen to music.” 

Dean gave me a soft smile before starting the engine. Baby was purring – I could never get tired of that sound; it was smooth and powerful – no wonder he was so protective of her. The car held memories, sacred moments and was filled with stories – good and bad. 

“Sounds like a plan,” and with those words we were off. 

We were on the main highway, heading to God knows where. Dean, of course being the driver, was controlling the music as well. 

Dream On by Aerosmith was playing. I loved that song, but I was in the mood for Van Halen. 

Driver picks the music. Shot-

“Shotgun what?” I smirked, glancing at him. I saw he gripped the wheel tighter and licked his lips.

“God, I hate when you do that,” he said. I chuckled. 

Front windows were down, summer breeze in my face and hair gently caressing me as Crazy Train started playing. Ozzy was too chaotic for this drive. As much as I loved his songs I wanted something to ease my mind and not encourage my body to produce adrenaline. I dared to change the song. 

Don't Fear The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult. 

Much better.

“Hey, I was listening to that,” Dean of course complained. 

“Well not anymore,” I told him as I showed him a middle finger.  

A chuckle left his lips before he spoke.

“Wanna grab a few drinks?” 

“Dean I don't wanna get drunk at” – I looked at my phone to check the time – “11am.”

“You don't have to do anything you don’t wanna do. We can buy a few beers and go to our favorite hiding spot. If I get too drunk maybe, maybe I'll let you drive.” 

I couldn't believe what I just heard. My heart was racing from excitement. Sam was always the designated driver; Dean would sometimes drive drunk without us noticing. I know that because he admitted that…while we were drinking after a successful hunt. 

“Really?” I played skeptical; part of me was. “You're not afraid I'll crash your beloved car?”

“If you do, I'll kill you,” he looked at me and gave me a flat smile. 

Fair enough.

“Well okay.” 

She won't crash my car.

Well I think she won’t. 

I hope she won’t.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the trees blurred on my right side as we passed by; absorbing the warmth and sunshine in my face. 

It's My Life By Bon Jovi started playing. 

Perfect.  

Dean bought a couple of beers and some Slim Jims at the first gas station just before his favorite hiding spot. 

The hiding spot was an abandoned house we found a few months ago when we were hunting a vampire nest. It was an old cabin in the middle of nowhere, a few miles away from the main road. After exterminating the nest, we started coming there every once in a while to relax and get away from everything that made us hunters. Sam completely forgot about that place but Dean and I would occasionally go, mainly at night to get away from the bunker’s haunting reminder of the life we were living. There we were just regular folk, drinking and having fun. The house was dusty and old, but dear to us, like a portal to a regular life and what we desperately wanted, but could never have. 

As we were approaching the house I couldn’t ignore the strong sense of serenity coming from Dean. His mind was at ease, no racing thoughts, no sorrow he would usually carry within himself – he was happy. I’ve never told him about that; I know he would probably freak out – yell even – so I kept my mouth shut. I would be lying if I said it didn't freak me out as well. Every emotion he would feel, I would feel too and sometimes even twice as strong. It was like a bond of some sort; an invisible string connecting us and letting me see and feel every inch of his mind. I would wake up whenever he couldn’t sleep, I’d laugh whenever he’d laughed and I would get angry whenever he’d get angry…I felt everything and it was driving me insane not being able to talk to him about it, because it was only him I’d felt connected to.

I smiled at him when he turned off the engine, feeling the warmth in his soul. I got out of the car and stretched my legs, inhaling fresh summer air and soaking in the sunshine on my skin. 

“Let’s have a picnic,” I suggested, “I don’t wanna go inside. The weather is beautiful.” 

“A picnic? Here?” He asked, looking around. Nothing but endless grass fields around us; the highway was peeking through the greenery but we could barely see it anymore.

“You will be fine, princess,” I chuckled, “Besides it’s good to connect with mother nature every once and a while.” 

Forest nymph. 

He started calling me that when I told him about my love and admiration for nature and my passion for hiking and exploring woods. He told me no sane person loves hiking, but his younger brother understood. Now, occasionally I’d go hiking with Sam. 

I ignored his thought, even though I wanted to tell him we weren’t in a forest, and found a perfect spot next to the house and sat down. He rolled his eyes and joined me. 

Dean cracked two bottles and I opened one of my favorite honey BBQ Slim Jims and took a first bite. I loved the smooth texture and a light honey flavor mixed with BBQ aroma in my mouth. 

“Cheers!” He said lifting his bottle for a toast. 

“Cheers, for not dying!” 

He chuckled. 

“For not dying!”

One beer…

Two beers later we were both feeling the consequences of our own actions. I was tipsy due to my low alcohol tolerance while Dean seemed sober but was far from it. He had a strange gift – being able to fake sobriety. He had been doing it for years and now seeing him behaving like a drunken fool looked strange and unfamiliar. 

He was looking at me; green eyes sparkling under the sun making me wonder if he and I were ever meant for something more. I was in love with the idea of being in love with him but it scared me more than death which I had experienced a couple of times. He was my best friend, my annoying best friend with a heart of gold and a shadow he wanted to remain hidden.

We stayed for hours, soaking in the sunshine and summer heat while reliving old memories and wondering if this life we had was worth it. We soon realized, it was. 

“We still get to experience this,” I stated, showing him a butterfly that flew in that moment right in front of me.

“Butterflies?” He wondered, tilting his head a little in confusion.

“Nature, dumbass,” I smiled, “And other small pleasures, music, alcohol, food…and also knowing the world is less shitty because of us.”

He nodded in a silent agreement before hearing him call me forest nymph again. His warm green eyes fixed on me, making me a bit nervous. He didn't say a word.

“What?” I finally asked him. 

His right hand went into the pocket of his jeans and he pulled out his car keys.

“You can drive,” he told me and gave me the keys. 

***

When we came back home safely, since I didn’t crash his precious car, Sam was still in his room, probably reading and Dean decided to take a nap since naps weren’t a regular occurrence in our household. 

I decided to continue the book I started a couple of weeks ago. I missed being able to read books I wanted, and not just ones for research purposes. I could still feel him. He was content. I smiled and opened my book. 

An hour into the book and a picture flashed right in front of my eyes. I saw blood, so much blood on the sidewalk. Hairs on my arms rose as another frame appeared: it was a girl lying face down, head bludgeoned. A wave of fear rushed over me as I closed my book, not being able to simply ignore it. I knew exactly what this was – Dean’s nightmares – I knew exactly who this was. 

Another flash. His hands, covered in blood. He was trying to wake me up. He was calling my name over and over again like a prayer of despair, but I didn’t wake up; I didn’t move an inch.

Usually I would ignore his nightmares; I was too afraid to say anything, afraid of his reaction and not being able to give him a good explanation, but my silence was killing me. Something told me – maybe it was intuition or my impulsiveness, or both –  I had to wake him up.

Quickly I got out of my bed and rushed to his room. His jaw was clenched, his body seemed stiff under the white sheet that covered him just below his chin. I could hear quiet moans coming from him as another picture appeared right in front of me – he was on his knees, holding me tight, eyes bloodshot red and filled with tears…My heart broke in a second before I closed my eyes, trying to make it go away. As I approached him I could see his eyes fluttering rapidly beneath his closed eyelids, his forehead glistening with a faint sheen of sweat…I had to wake him up.

“Dean?” I whispered and sat next to him. A whimper escaped his lips. 

“Dean?” I called his name again, this time a little bit louder and with a hand on his cheek. He was warm. 

“Dean, wake up!” I could feel his shock as he shot his eyes open, taking a deep breath like he forgot how to breathe, shivers running through him – I could feel them all over my skin. 

He took in his familiar surroundings before he looked at me. 

“You had a nightmare,” I told him. 

“Yeah, a really bad one,” he simply added, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache started to settle as he got up and went to the bathroom to splash himself with cold water. He was only wearing black boxers and it wasn’t like I have never seen him shirtless, it was the fact that every time I did, I had to tell myself not to stare like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time. 

I swallowed thickly without saying a word.

I have to tell him. I repeated that sentence over and over again. I have to tell him he deserves to know. 

When he came back my eyes registered his bulge for a second before looking up. I was praying he didn’t notice. 

“Are you okay?” I asked. 

“Yeah, so much for napping,” he lied and started putting on his blue jeans. I knew he was lying, he would always lie and repress his emotions and needs. I knew he was exhausted. Those nightmares had been happening for a week straight; the exhaustion showing on his face in a form of dark circles; the once lively features now appeared subdued; eyes dimmed. 

“I saw it,” I utter these three words without much thought. 

“What?” He was about to button his red flannel, stopping mid through.  

“I saw your nightmare, you have been having the same nightmare for a week now.” 

I refused to look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me as he took my words in. I could feel a slight sting in my chest coming from him – shock.

“You can read minds AND see people’s nightmares?”

“Not people’s; yours. It only happens with you, I wake up every time you have a nightmare, I feel every emotion you feel,” – I took a deep breath before I continued; I knew him well enough to know he hated secrets, even though he was a damn hypocrite and had his own – “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out. I cannot control it, trust me I tried, but I can’t. It has been happening for a while and-” 

His eyes once trusting shited and now held a hint of disappointment, his jaw clenched. Anger.

Anger and disappointment. 

“For how long?” His deep voice echoed in my ears as he cut my frantic explanation short.

I froze. I knew this question was coming. I knew right there that keeping this thing a secret was a mistake. I couldn’t answer it. I couldn’t…

“For how long (Y/N)?” He demanded crossing his arms. I didn’t like the sound of my name when he was angry.

I stood up, barely feeling my legs before I answered: “A year.” 

“Does Sam know?” The next question came out less angrily, his voice softer than seconds ago. 

“No.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It started as just me feeling whenever you were happy, it was hard to recognise it at first, I thought it was my happiness and then it progressed to other emotions like fear, anger and sadness and after that I started seeing your dreams. I didn’t tell Sam because I wasn’t sure what was happening.” 

“And you didn’t tell me because…?” He asked like I hadn’t given him the answer. 

“I told you I didn’t want to freak you out. It feels like I’m invading your privacy.”

He scoffed.

“No shit Sherlock!” 

His eyes widened before he spoke again: “Wait, so that means you can feel whenever I get horny?” 

I chuckled. “No, because being horny isn’t an emotion, Dean. It’s a state.”

“Oh thank God,” he expressed his relief. 

“I do feel the sudden rush of endorphins and happy hormones every time you come though,” at this point I had nothing to hide, especially when I could feel his anger subsiding. It wasn’t like him to just ignore something that made him angry, but for whatever reason he was over it. Now he was mortified. 

“Oh God!” He said and opened the door of his room. “SAMMY! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE WE HAVE SOME RESEARCH TO DO!” 

I swallowed a laugh before he turned around. 

“We're gonna get to the bottom of this!” 

***

Sam was genuinely surprised when I told him about the bond. He would usually try to find an explanation or guess what it was; this time he was silent. No logical explanation, no guessing, no nothing…

“Well that’s something I have never heard off,” he just told you and went to the library to try and find some books about…

Mind reading?

Bonds?

“I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” he said, looking at the spines of old books on the shelves. 

“You’re telling me,” Dean agreed. 

“It’s not like I’m a monster with abilities.” 

My statement was enough to light a bulb in Sam’s head: “Yes but…” – he went to the second shelf behind you, like he knew what he was looking for – “You’re something else.” 

Dean and I looked at each other in confusion before Sam pulled a book from the shelf. 

“Indigo children?” I read the covers. 

“Huh?” Of course Dean had no idea. 

“I mean it makes sense, you said you were always highly empathetic, ever since you were a kid right?” 

“Yes,” I nodded as he was flipping the pages trying to find a specific chapter. The book was annotated but it wasn’t his handwriting. 

“Also you started reading minds when you were 7?”

“Well kinda.”

“Before that it was like a guessing game, you just knew?”

“Sort of.” 

Chapter 54. Abilities. 

Indigo children are children who are believed to possess special, unusual, and sometimes supernatural traits or abilities. 

“I have been on this Earth for how long and I’ve never connected the dots,” I said, admiring my own stupidity and inability to dig deeper. I was never curious enough to find an explanation for my ability; never cared enough to think about it too deeply; when I started living with Sam and Dean five years ago I told them right away what I could do. They first thought I was Azazel’s long lost special kid, the one that was lucky enough to somehow hide in the shadows back when Azazel was still alive, but that wasn’t the case. My parents were killed by a vampire and I’d never met Azazel; I didn’t even know he existed until they told me. I only knew regular black eyed demons. 

“So, you were a gifted kid? That still doesn’t explain your ability to do what you have been doing for a year,” Dean scoffed. 

Who names gifted kids indigo kids? Seriously?!

You chuckled. 

“Wait, you have been able to do that for a year?” You heard Sam, your eyes still on the book, trying to find something, anything that would indicate the existence of the said bond. 

“Yes, why?” 

“Go to chapter 55,” he told me. I flipped a few pages until I saw: Chapter 55, Soulmate bonds.

An Indigo child can stumble upon an unprecedented neural synchronization when encountering their soulmate. This synchronization extends beyond telepathic communication, as it involves the transmission and reception of emotional states and dream imagery, resulting in an intimate sharing of thoughts, feelings, and subconscious experiences. Although very rare, it is possible for an Indigo child’s soulmate to be mortal, with no supernatural abilities. If an Indigo child does encounter their soulmate the bond can snap into place usually after 4 or 5 years (one case showed it can also happen after six months). 

“I read this book before we met so it never crossed my mind,” I heard Sam say as I was absorbing the information. I’d known him for five years…

Five years…

It made sense.

As I was reading the first chapter out loud Dean’s wave of shock made my heart beat faster as Sam went to the kitchen to get some booze. It was like he read my mind. I have never heard of his bond. As much as I loved the idea of Dean being mine, I knew he came with tons of baggage, untreated alcoholism, and rage so immense it made my stomach turn. I was no better though just with less intensity and alcoholism. 

That’s bullshit. 

My heart broke hearing these words, but I finally got the courage to look at him, and for the first time his face was unreadable. He was silent. And then he just left.

Sam came back with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and three classes in the other. 

“Where’s Dean?” 

“He left…to process, I guess,” I said before hearing Dean slamming the front door. 

Sam, knowing me too well, didn’t say anything and just poured me a glass of Dean’s fine whiskey. I took a sip feeling a sweet burn down my throat. We were silent for a while, my words buried deep in my mind; struggling to articulate my thoughts as if I had any at that moment. 

“How do you feel about all of this?” Sam finally spoke, breaking the pleasant silence. 

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to blink back tears. I cleared my throat and took another sip. 

“I think…I’m scared to tell him he already has me wrapped around his finger with or without the stupid bond,” my answer was honest. I was scared – terrified of crossing the boundary; breaking the only rule I had: no long term relationships. Anything more than a friendship with Dean would end catastrophically; I was aware of that and yet I still secretly hoped. I wanted him to want me, I wanted him to look at me and see a safe space; I wanted him so painfully to see me and think: “She’s worth it.” 

“Oh he knows, he's just being a dick about it,” Sam’s bluntness surfaced as he drank his glass of whiskey. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, not really following him. 

He knows?

“You two have something I’ve only experienced once in my life and yet you refuse to acknowledge it.” 

My forehead creased as I subtly tilted my head in confusion. Then I heard Sam’s voice in my head as he looked at me with a soft smile on his face.

Jessica…

“Oh…” was all I could say.

“Yeah, he was scared before, now he’s probably terrified. Talk to him when he gets back.” 

“So he can reject me? And probably tell me to move out? Even if he feels the same, I know Dean, and he would rather give up alcohol for the rest of his life than talk about his feelings.”

Sam snorted and nodded silently agreeing with me. 

“Trust me. He won’t reject you. He’s my brother, I know him a little bit better than you do.” 

***

Dean was gone for hours it seemed. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the bond, so I did what any sane hunter would do – I repressed my thoughts with more whiskey and drowned myself in more research with Sam. The more I drank it felt like I became more sober. 

I wanted to know more about this soulmate bond. I wanted to know if there was any other way for people to block me from entering their minds besides strengthening the mental shield. 

“I’ve never asked you, how did you find out about the shield anyway?” Sam asked me behind his laptop while I was trying to find books about telepathy. 

“A witch told me,” I stated behind bookshelves, “When my parents died I let it control me, I couldn’t stand it, I could hear every single person I came in contact with and it was driving me nuts. So, I found a witch, a good one, and she helped me control it and told me about the shield since she was the first person I couldn’t tap into.” 

I remember her fondly. Her white crow would sometimes appear, to let me know she was alive and I would visit her every year on her birthday in winter. I would tell the Winchesters I was seeing an old friend; without adding too much detail, since I knew Dean’s hatred of witches far too well. 

“Good witches exist?”

“Oh yeah, she’s wonderful.” 

There wasn’t any other way for other people to shield their minds from me, sadly.

“Oh but I think I found something,” Sam told me and turned his laptop towards me. I read the short paragraph and looked at him.

“I can do that?” 

“You can try.” 

***

 Dean was still gone by the time we decided to take a break from research. Sam decided to go for a walk before bed while I went to my room to try and contact Dean through the bond. The article Sam found stated it was possible to contact your soulmate if you focused all of your energy on them. 

I have no idea what I’m doing. 

I laid on my bed and closed my eyes, picturing Dean standing right in front of me. Even in my mind he made me nervous. His aura was so captivating and stoic; you couldn’t forget him even if you tried. His name escaped my lips a few times, eyes still closed, but all I could hear was dead silence.His face still engraved in my mind, I studied his features: his smile lines, beautiful kissable lips, his perfect nose, freckles…

Dean? I called. 

(Y/N), what the hell?

He heard me. I could feel my feet going cold as my body went numb. My heart was in my throat. 

I’ll explain later! Please come home, I wanna talk to you.

In a second, my mind lost focus as I became more aware of my nervousness and he was gone. I couldn’t see him anymore. 

“Crap!” I uttered in frustration and decided to text him. 

Please come home.

***

I heard his footsteps thirty minutes later. I was ready for the worst; I was ready for Dean to tell me to leave; I was ready for all of it to end. 

I heard him knock seconds later.

“You there?”

“Come in!” 

He closed the door behind him. I was in the middle of trying to read my book, emphasis on trying, since the nervousness turned into full blown anxiety and I couldn’t focus on anything but him. I put the book down as he sat on the bed. I was hit with a sudden smell of cigarettes and alcohol in my nostrils. He probably went to a bar. 

“How did you do that?” He asked, this time looking me dead in the eyes. His gaze wasn’t soft – I couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated – his eyes bore into mine with such seriousness I’d only seen a handful of times. 

“I did some research with Sam. The bond allows us to communicate telepathically.” 

“I-I can also do that?” 

“If you concentrate hard enough, yeah.” 

An astounded chuckle was all I heard. And then:

This is crazy.

I know.

His lips parted slightly once he realized he could hear me. I on the other hand didn’t want him to hear me, but looking at him, seeing the evident worry and fear in his green eyes, I couldn’t control it. It became natural.

“Where were you?” I asked and boldly decided to sit next to him. 

“Went to our favorite hiding spot to think. When thinking became too much, I went to a bar and had a couple of drinks.” 

“And? What are your thoughts?” 

His hand gently found mine, intertwining his fingers with mine. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing at that moment. I could feel my cheeks burning as he pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead. 

“I feel like ignoring how I feel about you just made everything worse.”

I’m terrified. 

I ignored it and focused on his actual voice. “And I feel like this bond slapped me in the face.” 

“You and me both,” I smiled. 

Sam was right after all. I didn’t know what else to say but all I could think about was pressing my lips against his. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but my body refused to cooperate with my mind. 

I didn’t need to kiss him first, because his lips found mine in a matter of seconds. The kiss was gentle, warm; his lips perfectly pressed against mine. I opened my mouth letting him know he could explore it with his tongue and he was happy to do so. A whine escaped my lips when he broke the kiss. 

“I heard you,” he smirked. 

Please stay with me. My mind yelled. 

“I will,” he heard me. Again. 

***

Dean went to get ready for bed and so did I. It was already 11pm, Sam was long gone, snoring in his room after a long walk and I went to take a shower. 

It will probably happen.

Maybe it won’t?

Maybe we will just cuddle and sleep?

Yeah right.

Why am I so nervous?

I’m nervous because the last time I was in love with someone he left me for a girl named Karen. 

In high school.

Crap. 

My thoughts were racing as I was washing myself and getting ready to spend the night with him. I put on my shirt and a pair of clean underwear before brushing my teeth. I turned off the lights and went under the covers. Somehow it was always cold in my room, no matter the season. I focused on my soft pillow and how it felt against my cheek as I turned on my side. That lasted maybe two seconds as my mind kept drifting and wondering what was coming next. The thought of him pressed against me made me excited; his lips on my neck, hands on my hips…

I didn’t even realize I was rubbing my thighs together, desperately seeking some form of release. Thank God I was tired, a few moments later I could feel my eyelids getting heavier and my body finally relaxing. I wondered where Dean was as I started drifting and soon enough I got my answer. 

He would always take long showers; so I wasn’t surprised when he came 15 minutes later. He found me peacefully drifting between realms of reality and dreams, and with his hands wrapped around me pulled me back to reality – to him. My back pressed against him; we stayed like this, as my patience was running low and I could feel myself getting wet. 

He was melting any sense of restraint I had and even with nervousness practically suffocating me, I turned around and snuggled against him, his chin resting on top of my head. He was warm; skin soft as I took a deep breath to breathe in his scent – forest after rain and him. 

“Did you know?” I whispered into him.

“Huh? What?” His deep raspy voice so close to ears made me shiver. 

“Did you know that I have feelings for you?” 

Sam said he did, but I wanted to hear from him. 

“I suspected it, but refused to believe it. Until Sam confirmed it.” 

“How did Sam know? I’ve never told him.” I said and lifted my head to look at him. It was dark, but I could still see the outlines of his face – he smiled at me. 

“He told me you get smiling eyes when we are together. I didn’t really know what he meant until we took down that vampire nest back in Austin. I told you, you were an idiot for trying to take down a whole damn nest by yourself and you kept looking at me with those dove lookin’ eyes.” 

I smiled. I remembered that. It was a few months ago and I was indeed an idiot. He and Sam almost died and I had to do something. I was reckless and instead of coming up with a plan I let my machete go wild. 

“Well it’s not my fault you’re hot when you’re angry.” 

I could feel his smirk before I kissed him, this time cupping his cheek with my hand. He immediately kissed back, pulling me closer to him like that was even possible. This time, one kiss turned into another and another. We both didn't want to pull away; his hands hesitantly started roaming under my shirt, instantaneously sending shivers all over my body. I took his hands, breaking the kiss.

“Touch me. I'm yours,” I whispered before kissing him again, not being able to get enough. I could feel his little smirk against my lips as he tugged on my shirt trying to take it off. I took it off and in seconds he took his. My mind was focused on him and only him as I felt his soft skin under my fingertips. 

You're going to be the death of me. 

Likewise, sweetheart.

This time I smiled between kisses. I liked that nickname, I couldn’t wait to actually hear it out loud. He wasted no time before he pushed me onto the bed and straddle me; his lips not leaving mine. We were like two addicts; we couldn't stop; we didn't want to stop. He pressed his hips on mine and I could feel him, pressed against my wet center. A soft moan escaped my lips as my fingers tugged on his damp hair. He moved his lips on my neck, while his hand found my center. A light brush was enough to make me moan his name. I was so sensitive, so vulnerable underneath him; he was consuming every reverie of my mind. 

I was growing impatient, but he knew that, and now I couldn't hide anything from him anymore. The bond was stronger now, we didn't even have to try to communicate with one another; it was like breathing. 

I lowered his boxers as much as I could and wrapped my hand around his hard dick, earning a groan from him. I pumped him a few times, as my impatience became his. He kissed me before standing on his knees and took my panties off. He stopped for a second.

Adoration – I could feel it through the bond. He was making me blush in the dark; my cheeks growing warm. 

You're so beautiful.

Before I could answer him, he positioned himself between my legs and slowly entered me, stretching me nice and slow; his lips found mine again as he swallowed my gasp and slowly started to move. My legs wrapped around his hips, wanting more, more and more…

I was about to get drunk and see stars. My hands were around his neck before I cupped his face. He broke the kiss when we both couldn't breathe, biting my shoulder lightly, his pace becoming faster. 

My mind only knew his name as I was chanting it over and over again, like a sweet prayer. He nuzzled his head in my neck, kissing it sloppily. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear. 

I was in a complete haze, unable to muster anything but his name. 

His nose resting on my cheek, he placed a soft kiss only to swallow my moans once more, as we both started to fall apart. 

“Dean, I-,” I wasn't able to speak, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach and I could tell, feel, he wasn't going to last much longer. 

“I know, baby. I know. I can feel it,” he said and I wasn't sure if he could feel it through the bond or if my body was telling him – or both. 

My moans became desperate; with that voice Dean could make me do whatever his little heart desired. 

We came in sync, eyes locked and growing breathless. He couldn't keep my name out of his mouth and I didn't want him to. When he pulled out and laid next to me we were both panting and growing sleepier. I lazily moved closer to him, kissing his shoulder as he immediately wrapped his hand around my torso and pulled me close. 

“And you thought we'd just cuddle,” he chuckled. 

I raised my head to look at him.

“You heard me?” 

“Yeah, we have to figure out how to not hear each other's thoughts all the time.”

“Well…” I started and he just shot me a death glare.

“I ain't meditating.”

I cupped his face, squeezing his cheeks lightly making his lips pout. 

“Fine,” I said and gave him a pack on the lips, “we will find another way.”

“Thank you.” 

I stayed in his arms until we both fell asleep. He played with my hair and I drew small circles on his chest. He asked me about the research – what I found, what I didn't – asked me about us.

“If it's meant to be it's meant to be,” my eyelids grew heavy as I mumbled the words and drifted to sleep. 

Dean kissed my forehead and closed his eyes.

***

I could feel Dean’s hands pulling me closer to him, his fingers digging into my flesh as my ears heard him say my name in a form of whisper. I lazily opened my eyes not knowing if he was awake or not. His fingers dug into my stomach as he repeatedly called me in a frantic tone. 

He’s dreaming.

“Dean?” I turned around and even in complete darkness my eyes registered his clenched jaw, while my body felt the stiffness of his. 

“Dean?” I repeated again and nuzzled my head under his chin and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. I knew what he was dreaming about – I was dying again and he was trying to save me. 

Dean, baby wake up!

I told him through the bond as I stroked his soft hedgehog-like hair. I could sense the fear lingering within him as his eyes shot open, his breathing came in uneven gasps and his chest was rising and falling frantically. I wrapped my hand around his torso and embraced him in a tight hug as the weight of the nightmare still lingered. 

“I’m here,” I repeated a couple of times, giving him the reassurance I knew he needed. 

“It’s just a dream, Dean.”

His breathing became stable again. 

“You died,” eventually he told me. The fear was gone and replaced with sadness – sadness so somber and heavy I only felt once when Charlie died. 

“No, I didn’t. I’m here,” I told him and placed his hand on my chest. 

“I’m right here,” I said before kissing him. A sigh of relief left his lips. 

“I feel like I’m gonna lose it…the same dream over and over.”

He was desperate, so desperate for answers it made my soul ache, but I knew this wasn’t the time. 

“I know, and we will figure it out. Sleep baby, I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered before kissing him lovingly. His hand found my cheek as I broke the kiss resting my forehead against his.

“Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine,” I told him as my legs intertwined with his. My hand was on his chest, feeling his heart beating faster. Something was traveling through the bond, something lovely and warm I could only describe it as love. Suddenly I heard it; a whisper traveling through the bond: I love you, before he kissed me again.

I love you too.

Tagged: @lacilou , @littlemadamred , @girls-alias , @captainannatheweirdo , @nancymcl

[dreamlandreader]

Cruel Summer

Chapter One - A Recipe for Disaster

Merry Christmas @throneofsapphics - it is finally time for me to reveal myself as your Secret Santa for the @acotargiftexchange ❄️ It has been such a joy getting to know you over the past few months, and I've had the best time writing this fic. I really hope that you love this gift as much as I have loved working on it.

Summery: Nobody knows what happened between Mor and Elain last Winter Solstice. One day they were joined at the hip, giggling as the seer taught the warrior how to bake, and the next morning, they refused to look one another in the eyes. Sick of the tension, Rhysand and Feyre are hopeful that two weeks in the sun will be enough to help the pair rekindle a friendship, but the inner circle are oblivious to the fact that their relationship went much deeper than they know, and it will take a hell of a lot more than a beautiful beach to repair what was broken.

Story contains: Forced proximity, only one bed, second chance romance, lovers to enemies to lovers, angsty start with an eventual HEA.

The patrons of The Frosted Peak - Velaris's sparkling new fine dining restaurant - sat silently as they gawped at the family dispute breaking out before their very eyes.

The High Lord and his beguiling cousin sat centre stage amongst the crowd, but the gentle tinkling of piano keys and candle lit ambience did nothing to soothe the tension that was taught in the air.

“Absolutely not!” the warrior growled through gritted teeth.

“Mor, please just-”

“No, Rhysand! I am 540 years old. I do not need a babysitter!”

Mor had already suspected that Rhys had an ulterior motive when he invited her for dinner on such short notice. It was ever so rare for the two of them to dine alone these days, especially since Rhys had become a father. She knew she was going to dislike what he had to say when they arrived at the restaurant and Rhys began to skirt around the subject. Mor lasted five minutes before snapping and telling him to just ask what he wanted to ask.

“She is not a babysitter Mor, she is a very skilled seer who has been training tirelessly with Azriel and who needs the opportunity to practice what she’s learnt in the field,"

"The field! Rhys, it's a conference for emissaries in the Summer Court, it's basically a paid vacation!"

"It is still official court business and anything could happen. You need someone to support you if anything untoward happens, and she needs to prove to Azriel that she is ready for actual missions,"

“Sounds like a babysitter to me,” Mor mumbled, glaring at Rhysand so furiously that he feared she may set him alight through sheer willpower.

“Please do this for me. I don’t know what happened between you two last winter, but you were friends once, I’m sure you can get back there again,"

Mor continued to glower at her cousin, internally begging that he would back down, but Rhysand would not be backing down today. Not when he had been sent here by his mate.

“I'm serious Morrigan,”

“Ooh full name, boss man must mean business,” Mor quipped sarcastically, scrapping her chair across the hard wood floor, readying herself for a dramatic exit. That would show Rhys just how serious she was.

“If you can't do it for me then do it for Feyre,” Rhysand threw out, desperate for Mor to see sense.

“It's crushing her that she can't have her best friend and her sister in the same room without you both ending up at each other’s throats. Please, Mor,’

Mor contemplated for a moment telling him no, but then she thought of Feyre. Of all the sacrifices she had made for them all. Of how much she valued her friendship.

“It’s a damn good job that I love your wife!”

Elain Archeron had spent the last three weeks pretending that her upcoming trip was not happening. Three glorious weeks of ignorant bliss, that did not involve her dwelling on the dreadful adventure upon which she was due to embark. But present Elain was actually rather furious at past Elain for her decisions, because she had left every ounce of packing until the very last minute. This was why she sat on the cool floor of her bedroom surrounded by piles of clothing, as her sisters draped across her bed, giggling at the language coming out of the seer’s mouth.

“Elain, calm down,” Nesta drawled, a lopsided grin spread across her face. “I know you enjoy dressing up, but it’s not the end of the world if you take the fusha skirt instead of the magenta one,”

“It does matter! For starters, I have to blend in if I’m going to feed information back to Azriel. I also need to consider the heat because most of these clothes are far too warm for the Summer Court, and don’t even get me started on what she will have to say if I end up wearing a fashion disaster!”

“Elain, breathe!’ Feyre said, sliding off Elain’s plush bed and sinking onto the floor besides her sister.

“You will blend in just fine, you’ve trained so hard. I have every faith in you,” she smiled, softly holding Elain’s hand. “Secondly, if you are struggling with packing me and Nesta can help, can’t we Nes,”

“Mmmhmm” Nesta mumbled, face down in Elain’s pillows, lazily lifting her hand in a thumbs up motion.

“Look, Elain. Are you sure this is really about the clothes?” Feyre pried carefully, tiptoeing around the point.

“Huh,” Elain replied, scrunching her brows in confusion.

“I just mean are you sure that you’re not actually freaking out about spending time with Mor?”

“That’s ridiculous Feyre! Why would I care about that?” Elain screeched, her voice rising an octave and a rosy colour creeping across her cheeks.

“I just don’t understand how you and Mor went from barely interacting with one another, to joined at the hip, to enemies in a matter of weeks,”

“I don’t know. Sometimes people just don’t click that’s all,” Elain brushed her off, as if it was nothing. As if her sister’s investigation wasn’t ripping open a barely patched wound. As if Elain had not spent months agonising over the same thing, wondering what happened and how they had got themselves into such an uncomfortable situation.

“It didn’t seem like you were struggling to click last solstice,” Nesta interrupted, “We barely saw you because you were oh so busy getting to know each other,”

Nesta raised a brow and Elain’s heart sank … did she know? Had Nesta worked out the details of the worst heartbreak Elain had ever suffered.

She wished more than anything that she could tell her sisters everything. How she fell in love, slowly and then all at once. How she had placed her delicate heart in the hands of someone she thought felt just the same, only to watch them destroy it in front of her eyes. How she had been living, heartsick, and guarded ever since. She wished she could, but she couldn’t, because speaking it out loud would mean acknowledging the ache she felt in the depths of her soul, and no good would come from digging that up, not when she had spent so long pushing it down down down.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Elain whispered.

“But I just-” Feyre started.

“No! I just want to have one last night with my sisters before I’m stuck in another court for weeks. I’ve agreed to go so that I can be approved for actual missions. I will put up with her company and keep things professional. But I have so much to do before I leave, and I don’t want to spend the time I have talking about Morrigan. Please,”

“Fine. Fine,” Feyre said, raising her hands in surrender. “You and Nesta get started with the packing and I’ll go grab the wine!”

There was not much in life that Elain Acheron hated more than being late. Perhaps it was due to the etiquette lessons her Mother had forced her and Nesta into as children, or maybe she just appreciated punctuality. Either way, the clock was ticking ever closer to four pm and Mor had yet to show her face.

Elain began to pace, her heart fluttering relentlessly at the anticipation of coming face to face with the woman who had smashed her heart into pieces. They’d done a pretty successful job of avoiding one another over the months, but it had meant sacrifice. Avoiding each other unfortunately also meant avoiding the people they loved.

On the few occasions that they were forced into each others company, the weight of the air around them became suffocating. Harsh words were flung across the table, as vicious and deadly as daggers. Neither party seemed able to restrain themselves from snipping, despite the protests from everyone else in the room. It seemed that time was no great healer, no matter what the ancient poets said, things had only become worse the longer they went on.

"Elain, you are wearing a hole into my new flooring. Please stand still, I beg of you," Feyre implored, guiding her sister into a chair.

Elain shot up again immediately, and continued to pace, and rant, and pace some more.

“Where is she! We have to leave in five minutes Feyre!” Elain screeched, making her sister jump.

“Four actually,” Mor drawled, having slipped unnoticed into the grand entrance of the River House with Rhysand whilst Elain was mid tirade.

Elain stopped dead in her tracks, and span on her heel. It felt like the blood had frozen in her veins, like time itself had melted away. Mor stood, beautiful as ever, with utter contempt consuming her features. Silence rang through the room like a warning bell, begging Elain to run, to hide, but she wouldn’t. Not any longer. After all, she had done nothing wrong. It was Mor who had lied. Elain had nothing to be ashamed of.

“You will both make it with plenty of time Elain, don’t fret,” Rhysand spoke soothingly, patting her arm as he passed and settled next to his mate.

“Mor here was simply primping and fussing over what to pack. But, she is here now, aren’t you?” He continued, smiling over to his cousin who fixed him with a deadly glare.

“And you are both sure to have a wonderful time,” Feyre finished enthusiastically, far more hopeful than the rest of the room.

“Pfft,” Mor scoffed, at the same time that Elain mumbled something equally as obstructive under her breath.

“Are we going then, seeing as you are oh so desperate to keep to schedule?” Mor asked, paling somewhat as she offered Elain her arm. Dread swept over Elain’s body like an icy wave, as her hand made contact with Mor’s bare arm. Feyre was wrong, this was not going to be a wonderful time. This was going to be a total disaster.

The second that Mor's feet touched the white sands of Adriata she tore her arm away from Elain and put a healthy amount of space between them.

The turquoise sea glittered under the boiling midday sun, lapping gently at the shore, but the calming scene did nothing to ease the anxiety that swirled in Mor's chest. To feel Elain’s touch once more after so long without it had thrown her completely, the skin of her arm still tingling. With her closeness came a flurry of memories, of soft caresses and urgent grasping.

Mor snapped herself out of her thoughts. It would do her no good to sink into memories that were once so warm, but were now twisted with a tinge of guilt and a bucket load of resentment.

“Neither of us wants to be here. Let’s just make the most of it and stay out of each other’s way,” Mor asserted, daring to glance at Elain, whose loathing was written across her face.

“Fine with me,” Elain replied, offering Mor only her back as she turned and walked towards their accommodation, a hauty sway in her step.

 “One room,” Elain squeaked.

“With one bed!” Mor spluttered, wide eyes taking in the hotelier with desperation.

“I thought we’d have separate rooms,” Elain stated plainly.

“With separate beds!” Mor exclaimed.

“I’m sorry ladies, but we were not aware that Ms Acheron would be accompanying you on your travels, and all of our rooms are fully booked,”

“And there is really nothing we can do?” Elain asked. She had paled considerably upon hearing the news. Not only would she be sharing a room with her ex lover, but a damn bed. White hot claws of anxiety punctured her chest. This trip was brewing to be a total nightmare.

“I’m afraid not. I can provide extra blankets and pillows if you want to try and fix a bed on the floor?” The hotelier offered, sensing the discomfort radiating off her two newest guests.

“Thank you. That would be very helpful.” Mor said quietly, clearly resigned to the idea that avoiding each other was now not so simple after all.

As they both slumped up the staircase to their room, Elain fought the memories of the last time the two had shared a bed. It was a rush of tangled limbs and searing heat, purposefully placed kisses and fumbling hands. It was nothing short of incredible. Until the next morning, when Elain had woken to an empty bed.

“I’ll take the floor,” Mor stated coolly, breaking Elain from her thoughts as she threw the bundle of bedsheets and pillows onto the ground.

Looking around at the room Elain suppressed the idea that in drastically different circumstances she’d be squealing with joy. The room was pleasantly sized, perfect for one person, or even two if they were willing to make themselves cosy. A beautiful arched window looked out onto the sea, reflecting oranges and pinks with the setting sun. The bed looked luxurious. Although it was on the smaller side, she knew the second she sat down, that she’d sink delightfully into the plush mattress.

“You aren’t taking the floor, don’t be ridiculous!” Elain grumbled.

“Pardon me?” Mor replied, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“We are both fully grown adults, I’m sure we can handle sharing a bed,”

“Thanks but no thanks, I’d rather take the floor,” Mor quipped, writing the idea off quickly before she even considered it.

“Fine. I should’ve known you’d act like a child,” Elain huffed, rolling her eyes.

“I am not a child!” Mor snapped, a hot rage beginning to burn behind her eyes.

“Sure,” Elain replied sarcastically, striding for the door. “I’m going to get some food. Do as you please,”

Elain felt Mor's eyes on her as she strode out of the room towards the oak staircase, feeling ever so smug that she had the last word.

Mor had spent an hour stomping around the room, unpacking her bags and seething over her conversation with Elain. How dare she act as though Mor was the child? After everything that had happened between them. After everything she had done! No, Mor was most definitely the adult. It was Elain who had acted like a teenager. Fickle, and thoughtless. It was her who had treated Mor's heart like it was worthless. Well Mor was ready to show her just how mature she could be.

Plonking herself down onto the bed, Mor huffed as she surrounded herself with the luxurious sheets and turned her back firmly to the door.

It seemed like hours passed before Mor heard the door snick open, though barely twenty minutes must have passed. Just long enough for Mor to fight off the memories that so desperately longed to be on her mind.

Mor lay silent, feigning sleep, as Elain began to pad around the room in an effort to prepare herself for bed. When Mor felt the weight of Elain joining her in bed, she had to stifle an intake of breath. The sweet scent of rum seemed to drift through the air as Elain adjusted the blankets, and the slightest brush of their legs had Mor unravelled.

No longer able to fight against the memories that flooded her brain, she decided to let them in, oblivious to the fact that right next to her, Elain was also lost in the same thoughts.

~ 6 Months Prior ~

The River house was full of revelry. Laughter bounded around the room, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with joy. Wine flowed freely as Elain entered with desert propped carefully in her hands.

The three tiered cake towered high in the centre of the table as she gently placed it down. The inner circle looked on in awe at the masterpiece. Elain had decorated the cake with a multitude of pastel colours, pinks, blue and purples made up a scene of a beautiful sky and spun sugar adorned the sides like fluffy delicious clouds.

‘Elain, once again you’ve outdone yourself’ Rhys beamed.

‘A true artist!’ Feyre added, painting a soft blush along Elain’s cheeks.

‘Yes Elain you are truly wonderful, but please can we eat it now!’ Mor whined, plate at the ready.

‘You’re just jealous, Mor,’ Cassian smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

‘Jealous?’ Mor replied, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

‘I think he means because you can’t bake, dearest cousin,’ Rhys said.

‘I can bake!’ Mor scoffed, rolling her eyes.

‘Mor do you not remember the bread incident?’ Azriel suggested gingerly.

‘That was one time Azriel!’ She responded, whipping her head in his direction and fixing him with a pointed stare.

‘What bread incident?’ Elain enquired curiously.

‘The girl made a loaf of sour dough that was raw on the inside but burnt to a crisp on the outside, it was quite the feat,’ Amren stated, lazily sipping from her glass.

‘Sour dough is hard!’ Mor was quick to clarify, shrinking a little in her seat. Elain eyed her carefully and was surprised to see that the warrior, who never seemed to be anything but confident, looked mildly embarrassed.

‘I can help teach you to bake if you’d like?’ Elain blurted out without thinking twice. Mor’s warm brown eyes flicked up to meet Elain’s and her heart began to race at the attention.

‘You’d really do that?’ Mor said

‘Of course,’ Elain smiled softly. She had always silently admired Mor, her strength and femininity so intrinsically intertwined that she didn’t have to give up one in order to wield the other. She would never admit it out loud, but when she first began to train with Azriel and the sessions felt unbearably difficult, she would picture Mor’s powerful presence and it would motivate her to keep moving forward.

‘Good luck with that’ Cassian muttered under his breath, swiftly followed by an ‘Ow!’ when Mor smacked his arm.

‘I bet you 500 gold marks that by this time next month I can bake a cake as grand as any bakery in Pythian!’ Mor stated, determination flaring in her face. ‘With lovely Elain’s tutelage of course!’ She smiled.

And so they began to meet and bake. At first it was planned they would meet twice a week, but after the second session that increased to every two days. Their baking lessons were filled with laughter and accidental touches which caused heat to bloom in places that neither party was yet willing to admit. Before long both were making excuses to see each other every single day. Whether Elain had found a new technique she thought Mor might want to help her with, or if Mor had come to Elain for advice on how to make tiny fondant flowers - they were spending every waking moment in each others company.

Then three weeks in to their arrangement something shifted. Elain floated into the kitchen of the River house bright and early to make herself a pot of lavender tea, only to see that Mor was already pottering about. Her back was to the door as she hummed a little tune to herself, fussing with something out of Elain’s sight.

‘Hi,’ Elain said softly, smiling as she leant in the doorway.

‘Oh Elain you made me jump!’ Mor clutched at her heart as she span around, hiding whatever she was working on so carefully.

‘Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing up so early?’ Elain moved into the room, trying to see what Mor was blocking from her view.

‘I - well I wanted to make you something. As a thank you! But uh it’s - well it’s better if I just show you I guess,’

Elain could sense the nervousness vibrating from Mor as she gingerly moved out of the way, and presented her with a very runny looking raspberry tart.

‘I had put edible flowers on top. I thought you’d like them. But they sank to the bottom,’ Mor explained, her eyes looking to the floor.

‘I love it!’ Elain whispered, her eyes lined with tears as emotion bubbled in her throat.

‘What? It’s inedible how can you love it!’ Mor sputtered, perplexed at how anyone could appreciate her failed attempt at a thank you.

‘Because you put so much thought into it! No one has ever made me anything before. Thank you!’ She replied, nothing but genuine joy written across her face.

Elain leaned up on the tips of her toes and placed the most gentle of kisses on Mor’s cheek. Her lips tingled, and her heart swelled in her chest. Hearing the light gasp in her ear, she pulled away, slowly, leaving their faces only inches away. This close to the warrior, Elain could make out every tiny detail of Mor’s face. She could have stayed there all day, counting the freckles before her, mapping the constellations of her face, but she knew one of them would have to speak soon.

‘Mor I -‘

Elain never had the chance to finish her thought, as Mor leaned in and kissed her. It started slow at first, tentative pecks and trembling hands. After a while Elain felt Mor’s mouth part and they deepened the kiss, heat swelling between them. It was far from the first kiss Elain had ever shared with another, but it was the first time she felt so light that she could fly. Mor sucked gently on Elain’s lip, eliciting a soft groan, before pulling away, bursting into giggles and leaning in once more.

Elain broke from her reverie. Remembering just how good things were at the beginning hurt so ferociously now that she knew how it ended. She couldn’t let herself get swept up again. No matter how much her heart longed for Mor. No matter how much it hurt to remind herself over and over how it was never meant to be. She had to let it go, she thought as she began to drift off to sleep. It was the only way she would ever make it through the next two weeks.

A/N - Ah I’m so happy I finally got to share this, I’ve been bursting to share the first chapter of this gift for such a long time and it’s finally out in the world!

The next chapter will be out soon and it gets spicier from here so it is definitely one to look forward to! ❤️‍🔥 I really hope that you’ve enjoyed the story so far!

Check out my masterlist here!

Dividers by the incredible - @tsunami-of-tears

[whattraintracks]

Look, I know what the people want, okay? The people want a self-indulgent HPI Morgadec rewrite of Castle S4E7.

Yeah, it's me. I'm the people.

Say hello to my newest obsession that I told myself I wasn't going to write fic about but A) I'm a dirty liar, B) I have lots of stuff to procrastinate right now, and C) I just finished all the seasons currently accessible in the US and this is my grieving process.

I don't know who the audience for this is other than myself, but I had a lot of fun writing it and felt like sharing!

Cops & Robbers Pt 1 - Next

Warnings for guns and hostage situations.

[]

"Ugh, Théa. Why did I have to come here?" Morgane trudges up the stairs to the bank with no small amount of disgust.

"Because I needed a ride," Théa repeats for the fourth time since they parked.

"Couldn't you have taken the bus?"

"No."

Théa informs the bank teller she's come to open her own account, and they're led to a cubicle where a man in a poorly fitted suit spouts financial drivel at them. She can't imagine how Théa can listen to a man who says things like, "It's all about interest."

She pops her bubblegum. "And there goes mine." Pushing out of her chair, she stage whispers to Théa. "If you need help, blink twice."

Théa looks supremely unamused, so she shrugs and wanders out of the cubicle. Propping her hip against a table covered in brochures, she settles in to people watch. Except. She's in a bank. No one here is interesting enough to watch. She pulls out her phone, clicking her nails against the case for the two rings it takes him to pick up.

"Karadec speaking."

"Tell me you need me," she begs.

Silence rings on the other end for a moment. He sounds short of breath when he responds, "Pardon?"

"Théa kidnapped me, and now I'm stuck at a bank. Please tell me that there's a murder somewhere I could be solving." She glances around the room. The only person who looks remotely interesting is a man in red scrubs and a trench coat. It's the get-up really. Intriguing, if only for how out of place it is.

Karadec sighs. She bets he's smiling, though. The way he does when he can't help himself. "Ah, no. Sorry. Just paperwork."

"Interesting paperwork?" she presses. Not that she'll help even if it is, but she can sit around the office and talk while everyone else works.

"Standard reports. A lot of them, though." He lowers his voice, and she leans in as if the phone isn't already pressed to her cheek. "Céline has the worst of it. She lost her coffee mug in the mountain of files on her desk."

"Oh gosh," she says, thrilled by his conspiratorial tone, "paperwork and an undercaffeinated Céline? That might even be worse than this place."

He huffs a laugh. "Sorry, Alvaro, you'll have to find stimulation elsewhere today."

She has a witty reply—really, she does—but she gets distracted by the front door swinging open to admit a woman with a surgical mask around her neck. She's wearing indigo scrubs and a trench coat. Like the man she noticed earlier. In fact, she walks past that man and nods as he rubs his nose.

She gasps, "Kara!"

"What?"

"This bank is about to get robbed!"

"What."

She creeps away from the table to hide behind a column, glancing behind her to check on Théa. "There's a man and a woman dressed in scrubs and trench coats. And. They both have suspicious bulges in their jackets."

"Alvaro. You should not sound so excited about this. Where are you?"

She doesn't quite register his question, watching the woman get in line for a bank teller. What was the secret signal for if they aren't doing anything yet? "They must be waiting for someone," she mutters.

A heavy clank has her whirling around to the door, where, sure enough, a third man in scrubs and a surgical mask slams a bike lock on the handles. He turns around, cocking an assault rifle. "Everybody, get down on the floor!"

Her sparked adrenaline bursts into an inferno of fear. Karadec curses, the man's demand no doubt loud enough to carry over the phone.

"Well." She crouches, whispering. "I was right."

"Alvaro, tell me what's happening. Tell me where you are."

The other two robbers pull their masks up, revealing their guns and shouting at everyone to come away from their stations and get on the ground. Morgane tucks her phone against her shoulder, returning to the cubicle and ushering Théa behind the banker's desk. Once out of sight, she rattles off the address. Rubbing a hand down Théa's back does little to soothe her nerves as she hears Karadec tell Gilles to call in the bank robbery.

The female robber tells everyone to slide up their cell phones. Morgane notes her Indian accent but remembers the man who locked the door sounded British. All of them hold their guns confidently, and she starts to get the impression that these people are professionals.

"Alvaro," Karadec prompts.

Théa tries to peek above the desk, but Morgane pushes her back down. A man spots her, staring wide-eyed at the phone pressed to her ear. She gestures desperately at him to keep quiet. He hesitates. Then nods.

"Morgane!" Karadec says urgently.

She gulps, "I'm here."

"Is Théa with you?"

"Yes." She turns to look into her daughter's frightened eyes.

"Good. Stay together. Can you tell me what's happening?"

"Right, yeah." She takes a breath, looking back over the desk. "We're hidden, but I can see everything. The robbers are in scrubs. One is emptying the cash drawers. Another is going for the bank manager." She pauses, watching the robber in red. "He's got the manager's key, and he's going to the back."

"Okay. That's good, Morgane. Do you know how many there are?"

"Three," she replies confidently. "And they all have—"

Théa gasps beside her, and she freezes at the sound of a gun cocking behind her.

She brings a hand to her mouth, confidence shattered by the metal pressed against her skull. She fights through her trembling lips to tell Karadec, "Make that four."

Karadec falls silent, as does the rest of the room, when the robber behind her declares, "So you're the hero I'm going to make an example of."

The other three robbers turn to the man behind her and she realises he must be their leader. Because Morgane couldn't just piss off any old criminal with a gun, she had to go and piss off the criminal in charge.

Her phone is pulled out of her hand, and a tall man in light blue scrubs steps around to face her. "Sorry," he says into the phone, "Your friend can't talk right now."

Before he can hang up, Karadec's voice rings out, "I wouldn't worry about her. You should worry about yourself. I've got patrol cars on their way."

"Supercop?" Théa whispers hopefully. Morgane nods slightly, tucking her daughter under her arm.

The man pulls up short. "You're a cop?" He says into the phone, then turns to her with a glimmer of agitation in his eyes. "You called a cop?"

"Of course not." He raises his gun to her face. "I swear!" she yelps, "We were on the line before you came in."

"Listen to me." Karadec draws the robber back in with a voice she's heard in dozens of interrogations. "So far, nobody's hurt, and nothing's been stolen. If you leave the way you came in, you can just disappear."

The robber scoffs, "And what? You'll promise not to come looking for me?"

Karadec's voice tips into something cold and sharp that sends ice down her spine. "I won't look for you. I will hunt you down. And trust me, you don't want that. So leave now, and this'll be a blip in the evening news."

Morgane stares into the barrel of the gun as the robber considers Karadec's threat.

Finally, he chuckles, "Sorry. Supercop, was it? I'd rather make headlines." He crushes her phone beneath his heel, and she laments how much it'll cost to replace it as he drags her and Théa to their feet.

But Karadec—swift, reliable Karadec—wasn't bluffing about the patrol cars. The four robbers turn in unison at the sound of sirens approaching.

"Alright, doctors." Their robber pushes her and Théa into the center of the room with the rest of the—oh gosh, they're officially hostages now. "We trained for this. You know what to do."

She stumbles to the ground, dizzied by everything that's just happened. Her thoughts sluggish amid the muffled tears and harsh breaths from her fellow hostages, the shouted orders backed up by guns, and the police lights and sirens muted by thick, frosted windows.

Théa reaches for her hand.

[crdteezv]

NCT Prompt Line Requests

I’ve been super busy with school lately, so I don’t have as much time to write long fics. But for now, I’m taking requests! I’ll still write longer oneshots, but they’ll take longer to post.

You can pick 1-2 prompts from my list, and I’ll write a drabble, headcanon, or oneshots for you. The max word count will be no more than 5k words.

Right now, I’m focusing on NCT—mainly 127, Dream, and WayV (nothing against Wish; I’m just not comfortable writing for them). If I decide to write for other groups, I’ll update this and let you know!

Some prompts are a bit dark, and all are smut-related—just a heads-up! Send your request to my inbox with a short description of the scenario or even just the person's name and the prompt number(s) you chose, and I’ll do my best to make it happen! You can request dark scenarios too if you want as long it’s something that I’m comfortable with writing (I can write cnc/dub/non con).

I’m cool with writing for anyone in the units I mentioned, but I’m most comfortable and familiar with WayV, Haechan, Mark, and Jaemin!

People I haven’t written for yet but am interested in writing for include Johnny, Jaehyun, and Renjun. BUT I’m still open to writing for other members too!!

REQUEST OPEN!!! 

If the prompt is red that means it’s already been taken and is either being worked on or completed!!

Now, I’ll try my best to be consistent with posting these, but since I’m busier with school, I’ll get to requests as soon as I can.

Click here for updates on the prompts and responses. (I will still add these to my master list!)

“God, you love this, don’t you?”

“My neighbors are gonna know my name by the end of tonight”

“You look so much prettier on your knees for me”

“I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

" This is what you wanted right? 

“Don't tell me you can't handle this?"

"You beg so pretty for me. Let me hear you."

“No one can have you but me.” 

“Don’t you think I deserve this after what you’ve done to me?”

“How desperate and needy can you be for me?”

“God, sweetie. Didn't think you'd be this wet for me.”

“Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.”

“We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?”

“You’re so in for it when we get home.”

“You can take it, you’ve done this before.”

“Just a little more.”

“Don’t make a mess, baby.”

“Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”

“Show me how much you missed me.”

“It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.”

“I want you so bad.”

“You seem more sensitive than usual.”

“I said I’d take care of you, did you think I wouldn’t follow through on that?”

“We have to make this quick.”

“Your thighs are shaking so much.”

“Quiet, baby, the others will hear.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot.”

"Please, tell me what to do."

"I'm going to shower now. You're coming?"

"Oh, we're not done yet."

“You’re not very patient, are you?”

“Let’s try something new tonight.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“I need you so bad.”

“I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

“Don’t test me.”

“I want you all to myself.”

“I hate being so far away.”

“I’m waiting.”

“First one to make a noise loses.”

“Stop distracting me.”

“We both know that you can be louder than that.”

“What are you doing in my bed?!”

“Can I… can I touch you?”

“I’m not sharing you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and I’m going to make you remember that.”

“Stop distracting me.”

“Is this okay?” 

“How much do you want this?”

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart.” 

“I want you to say my name like that again.” 

“Aren’t you desperate?” 

“Only I get to touch you like this, okay?”

“You don’t get to touch yourself until I say so.” 

“Always so needy for me, aren’t you? 

“Can’t help yourself, can you?” 

“So wet/hard for me already, huh?”

“Do I turn you on that much?”

“I don’t think I can ever get enough of you.” 

“Do you know how much I love seeing you like this?” 

“Gonna make sure you don’t forget about tonight.” 

“Need me to remind you on what happened last night?” 

“But you think about me when they’re fucking you, don’t you?” 

“What did I just say?”

“Admit it — you want this as much as I do.” 

“I’ll be honest: I get off to the thought of you.��� 

Credit: Some of these are mine and some are from @/a-cure-for-writers-block, @/creativepromptsforwriting, @/leneemusing,  @/dumplingsjinson

[chvoswxtch]

Hiii

ik your requests are closed but if you have time n feel up to it, could you write a fic, blurb or even just head canons about how Frank would celebrate you and your birthday? Hes seems like the “anything you want is yours” kinda guy, even if it’s getting coffee then spending the day at home he would still make it special. Its my birthday haha and i dont want a big celebration just a low key day doing little things i love with the ppl i love. Omg this is sappy hahah but yeah if you have the time, thank you!! And I totally understand if you dont ❤️❤️

-Max 💥

OMG ANGEL

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAX !!! ❤️

my fic requests are currently closed, but i'd be more than happy to whip you up a little birthday treat! i'm gonna go with a headcannon if that's okay bc I have a lot of thoughts about frankie & birthdays I don't think I can properly translate into a blurb right now so please find my rambling below the cut :)

frank castle & your birthday

frankie strikes me as someone that is a hopeless romantic at heart, and I feel like his love language is physical touch but also acts of service. I think we've seen that he pays a huge attention to detail, so he might not go like all out for your birthday, especially if he knows you prefer something small and intimate, but he would definitely make sure it felt special

he would probably start by taking you to your favorite coffee shop, getting you a little birthday breakfast treat with your coffee, and it would probably be the one time he doesn't criticize your drink order (he definitely thinks plain black coffee is real coffee) or comment on how much espresso you added to it (i'm on that pedro pascal shit myself, & I know the only time frankie wouldn't give me shit about it is my birthday bc he's legally required to be extra nice that day)

"you're gonna be hoppin' around like the goddamn energizer bunny with all that. it's your day though. get what you want, sweetheart."

he would insist that you sit down at one of the cute little tables so you can enjoy your coffee and little breakfast together, while you try to get hints from him about what he has planned (he'd resist as long as he could but it's really hard for him to say no to you)

I could see him taking you to do something that you had been begging him to do for awhile. something he kept putting off, or there wasn't time, or he acted like he didn't wanna go, but really he was just saving it for your special day. maybe a trip to an art museum, the aquarium, some botanical gardens, or the zoo even

or maybe a romantic stroll through central park. he'd bring a blanket and your favorite book, let you cuddle up in his lap as he read to you, play with your hair and point out all the cute dogs you saw to each other

even though he'd already gotten your birthday gifts weeks ago, he'd take you to your favorite store and let you pick out anything you wanted

"what? i'm not allowed to spoil my girl on her birthday? if that's a crime, it sure ain't the worst one i've ever committed."

as far as the evening, I see it going two ways: frankie either makes a reservation at your favorite restaurant and invites your closest friends and family to keep it intimate, or he surprises you with a special dinner he cooked himself (your favorite meal) along with a homemade birthday cake (it might not be the prettiest, but it would be delicious) because we know frankie can throw down in the kitchen

if you went out for dinner, he would insist on giving you your gifts & card at home because they're special and sentimental and he's shy when it comes to things like that, and he likes it better when those moments just consist of the two of you

if you had dinner at home, he would roll his eyes when you begged him to sing you happy birthday, but he would oblige because he can't tell you no

"alright, fine. but you're patchin' up your own ears when they start bleedin'. you know I can't sing for shit."

he would ask you several times throughout the day if you were having a good birthday, because he wants to make sure that you are because he thinks you deserve nothing less than as close to perfection as he can provide

he'd also continuously tell you how pretty he thought you were and how much he loved you and how lucky he felt to get to spend your special day with you

I could see him putting your favorite song on and asking you to slow dance with him in the living room to it, drawing out every single minute of your birthday all the way up to 11:59 and making sure you spent every second of it feeling loved and special

"today's one of my favorite days. know why? cause it was the day you were brought into this world, and I think that deserves a goddamn celebration. happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you."

[schrijverr]

just so you know im scratching your door and looking up at you like a wet cat with big, pathetic eyes, begging for a new chapter of I didn't mean to say I do, but I do every week. I need that entire fic yesterday please, have mercy I'm just cat. I need sustenance.

(genuine question, why didn't you post the entire thing at once if you have it written? as someone who LOVES your fics, I go insane waiting for new chapters to drop)

kisses and cuddles because you're amazing. mwah!!! 😚💗💐

ahhhhdjjdjdjkdjd thank you so so much! This means the world to me, so thank you <333 I am so happy my fic is giving people brainrot :D

And as for your question, the reason I don't is because of asks like this and comments. It might seem self absorbed, but I spend three months working on I didn't mean to say I do, but I do I do And I worked on it with love, it's my baby, it's probably the fic I'm most proud of to date. And the reason I'm only posting now and not as I go, is because I want to make sure there will be an ending, because I myself don't want to be haunted by projects I never finish and leaving people hanging when they got invested in my creation, which is highly appreciated.

However, when you post it in one go (as I've done on my unfinished side pseud), you just don't get the same engagement. And that's fine. People are allowed to read and not comment, but when you've poured so much work and effort into a thing, you want to talk with people about it, get excited about the details that will be glossed over in the bigger picture comments at the end. You can't do that when people breeze through it in a day. So, when I write big fics like this, I post them on a set schedule knowing I'll never miss an update or leave people hanging, while still getting the fandom experience of posting as I go.

Because seeing the same faces pop up every time, getting to know commenters and talk about my fic with them, seeing how what I put so much effort in have an impact, makes it so much nicer to write. Yeah, yeah, write for yourself and I do, but I post to have a fandom experience and a part of that is the wait and the community

I hope that's a good answer and I don't sound like a massive bitch haha

.

(and as a sidenote, up until the reveal I have a carefully planned correlating to the chapters AUAUs posting schedule planned, but after the reveal I can probably be bribed into maybe posting chapters early)

[whorediaries-09]

you can meet me at the hotel;

it's kinkotober season loves! here's my event for the season, to get into the mood and spoil everyone because i love each of you so much <3

kinkotober masterlist the slut club

you know you ain't even gotta ask me

this will be different from traditional kinkotober events, so if you don't feel comfortable by that, stay away, and do not engage any further.

writing a fic every single day for a month will get too over whelming for me. so i will upload fics whenever it is comfortable for me.

the requests for the event are open! so if you want a particular kink (list provided below) with a particular character, feel free to send in a request.

i may modify your request according to the story...that is i may include an alternate universe of sorts if it fits the plot.

you can write suggest dialogues, kinks, au! with characters you'd like to read.

please keep in mind i will not write your request if it crosses my boundaries. while sending in requests, please be kind and respectful. this is a safe space for me and the people who read and interact with my content.

this is addictive, please

kinks i will write for.

Sizeplay

Voyeurism

Dacryphilia

Over-stimulation

Edging

Breeding

Degradation

Praise

Spanking

Bondage

Knife Play

Choking

Temperature play

Collars

Orgasm control

Toys (please be specific)

Mirror Sex

Blindfolds

Begging

Roleplay

Punishment

Shower-sex

Manhandling

Biting

Nicknames

Threesomes

Hair pulling

Oral

Lingerie

Angry sex

CNC

Phone sex

Squirting

Body worshipping

Anal

lust and drugs, no intuition 

dialogue prompts

'you can't expect me to do all the work. i want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.'

'be good and i'll let you cum'

'we're going to fuck right here? what if someone sees us?'

'do whatever you want to me. i'm yours to use.'

'your body was made for me.'

'you keep your hands where they are. or do i need to to tie them up?'

'let me cum in you. please, let me fuck my babies into you.'

'i'm sorry what was that? i can't hear you over all the noises your pretty mouth is making.'

'begging is a good look for you.'

'so good for me. look at the mess you've made.'

'do what you want. but you better make it good otherwise i'll kill you.'

'use your words.'

'tell me what you want.'

'you take me so well.'

'spread your legs wider.'

'say my name.'

'i love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me.'

'close your eyes.'

'you're not playing fair.'

'tighter.'

'make me yours.'

'swallow. all of it.'

'don't hold it.'

'wrap your legs around my waist.'

'you're so fucking hot.'

'that noise....keep making it.'

'mark me. mark me so everyone knows who I belong to.'

'you want gentle? wrong fucking address'

'have a little trust in yourself. i know you can take it.'

'we both know how much you're going to enjoy this.'

if you want to I can play the victim

these are just ideas, so if you want to request something not here, please feel free to xoxo.

characters i don't write for-

-draco malfoy -tom riddle -severus snape -lucius malfoy -any character from the cursed child era

ps- i do not have anything against the slytherins. i'm a slytherin myself.

thank you!

-steph 🍂

[restwellsoon]

amor vincit omnia | aphrodite mood board

I thought it'd be fun to share some of my author's notes/ mood boards for amor vincit omnia since it's my absolute labor of love.

Hopefully this provides more incite into Reader/Aphrodite.

Theme Songs

For a fic of this length, I thought it was appropriate to give Aph a theme song or two.

"Barbie Girl" - Aqua

Rather than taking inspiration from "Barbie Girl's" hook (You can touch / You can play / If you say, "I'm always yours"), I found myself associating Aphrodite more with these lyrics:

Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please I can act like a star, I can beg on my knees

To me, these lyrics epitomize how others view the goddess - a doll that plays the part of being pretty, a plaything that others exact their will upon. The goddess is more than that though. I can act like a star, I can beg on my knees gave me the vibe of a woman who's not as vapid as others seem. She's someone that recognizes the desires of others and is able to adapt according to the situation.

I also really liked the Pygamlion vibes this gave me. In the myth, Pygmalion falls in love with his creation, and Aphrodite brings it to life.

"Dream Girl Evil" - Florence and the Machine

Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed But you could never hold me You like me better in your head

&

Did I disappoint you? Did mommy make you sad? Do I just remind you Of every girl that made you mad? Make me perfect, make me your fantasy

This speaks to Aphrodite's self-awareness of others' opinions of her as the dream girl ideal fantasy. Knowing that though, she understands that others aren't seeing her for who she truly is, therefore disappointing and angering themselves. Rather than being mad about it though, she understands her worth (You could never hold me) and leans into it (Make me perfect, make me your fantasy).

I also really like the Madonna-whore complex and good vs evil themes of the song too, which I think sums up Aphrodite's complexity perfectly.

The Face of Aphrodite

I don't like to associate real people for reader-inserts since I prefer the lack of physical descriptors and most physical descriptions are irrelevant to the plot. However, I just had to make an exception for this fic. I was inspired the iconic goddess of pop herself, Cher!

I love this picture of Cher in particular because it shows off her confidence and power as a starlet from a young age. This is the look of a woman who knows her talents and beauty and knows how to get what she wants! This was something that I wanted to embody in Aphrodite as well when I write her mannerisms and others' reactions to her presence.

Here are some of my fave Cher quotes:

Women have to harness their power - its absolutely true. It's just learning not to take the first no. And if you can't go straight ahead, you go around the corner.

&

I know it sounds weird, but how bad, how hard can dying be?

&

A girl can wait for the right man to come along but in the meantime that still doesn’t mean she can’t have a wonderful time with all the wrong ones

&

Yes, it’s a man’s world, but that’s all right because they’re making a total mess of it. We’re chipping away at their control, taking the parts we want. Some women think it’s a difficult task, but it’s not.

&

Mom, I am a rich man

Symbols & Imagery

Seashells & Black Pearl

Naturally, Aph is associated with shells and pearls because of her ties with the sea and Botticelli's Birth of Venus.

Sea shells are hard on the outside, protecting the soft innards of the creature inside - just like our beloved goddess with her tough exterior.

I liked the imagery of black pearls in particular because of their mysteriousness aesthetic. Black pearls are associated with strength and healing - two things that are at the core of Aphrodite's arc in the story.

Turbulent Waves and Sea Foam

Following Aphrodite's birth, I thought that turbulent waves would be best to associate her with. Though the ocean is beautiful, it's also fucking scary, which is how I interpret the goddess. Love and Aphrodite are a force of nature - one to be admired but not fucked with.

Sea foam is made by agitating sea water. I like to think that contributes to her volatile nature.

Roses

Symbolizing love and beauty, it's natural for roses to be Aphrodite's flower. I love the myths about the first red roses. When Aph found out that Adonis had been injured, she ran to him, scratching her skin and painting white roses red. Alternatively, there were roses surrounding them as he died. While Aphrodite wept, her tears mixed with Adonis' blood, thus staining the roses around them red. There's a bittersweet aspect to roses with regards to her myth, and that was something that I wanted to focus on.

Thinking of Aphrodite as a rose herself, I thought it would be fitting to make them a part of her character arc - starting off with her essentially being a withering rose, then blooming again as she meets Ares / Jason - and of course, her thorns.

With Lore Olympus being one of my initial sources of inspiration, I also had to give Aphrodite her roses back from Persephone since Smythe gave them to the wrong goddess. This was also how I decided upon Persephone / Selina being Aphrodite's rival (she's also meant to help Aphrodite grow).

Bloody hands

Unlike Athena, whose powers are based on intangible intellect, the source of love can be seen and heard by all.

When researching and trying to think of natural ways to connect love and war together, I came across several idioms and metaphors relating love to physical force (E.g. to hit on someone, fall in love, to pursue someone, etc). This made me think of the power of love as being strong, something that can be felt physically. It also made me think of love and Aphrodite as a hunter/ predator. While Eros has their arrows, I thought that goddess of love would have more simple means of dealing with hearts by using her bare hands. I finalized on this concept when I thought of tying heart strings together and what that process might be like.

I also drew inspiration from Poe's Tell-Tale Heart. Having Aphrodite using violent means to commit Love's will and hearing the hearts of others gives the goddess an insane and horror aspect to her character that I thought was cool.

Silk

The luxuriousness and exclusivity of silk certainly means it'll be a staple in Aphrodite's wardrobe. I also like to describe her powers as feeling similar to silk. Have you ever shaved your legs and gone under some fresh covers? It feels like absolute heaven.

Diamonds

Coming from the Greek word adamas, which means invincible or indomitable, diamonds represent strength and beauty. Diamonds were believed to instill courage during battle and ancient people even thought that Cupid's arrows were diamond-tipped. Some even believed that diamonds were the tears of the gods.

Kronos also castrated his father Ouranos with a diamond sickle, thus giving birth to Aphrodite.

Diamonds aren't Aphrodite's assigned gemstone, but I loved the history behind it, especially since everyone knows that diamonds are associated with love and marriage.

I also wanted to associate Aph with diamonds because they're known to be poor electricity conductors. Who is the god of thunder and lightning? Zeus / Bruce! So associating Aph with diamonds not only gives her ties to Ares / Jason but also represents how she's a foil to Zeus / Bruce.

A/N: So that was a little look into my character development process and inspirations. I'll probably post Ares/Jason's mood board as well as my little notes about the other characters too.

[zarahjoyce]

MiTD Fic: run-of-the-mill

Summary:

"Are you all right?" he asks, his heart bright with worry. Worry? Why would I-- And then this girl smiles at him, and his world turns upside down. Finally, he thinks again. Finally, I found you.   or   a snippet of Kim Do Ha and Han Ri Ta's new life.

Notes:

I've always known I'm going to write a peak into Do Ha and Ri Ta's life because I WANTED TO SEE IT, SO I WROTE IT MYSELF

ao3 link!

--

Finally, his first thought was, the moment he sees her standing by the temple. Finally. Do Ha can't understand it, himself. All he remembers was seeing this girl wearing a school jacket of some sort, taking pictures left and right. As if his feet had a mind of their own, he finds himself moving towards her, closer and closer, until-- --he saves her from taking an unnecessary tumble down the stairs. "Are you all right?" he asks, his heart bright with worry. Worry? Why would-- And then this girl smiles at him, and his world turns upside down. Finally, he thinks again. Finally, I found you.

--

Somehow he finds it difficult to let go of her - even if it was time for his class to depart the temples. I should stay, he thinks, staring at her mouth. I should--  "Ya, Kim Do Ha," his friend Jang Yoon Je says, clapping his shoulder from behind them. "What are you doing? The teacher's been looking for you. It's time to bounce." "I should go," she says, giving Yoon Je a curious glance before focusing on Do Ha again. "It was nice meeting you. And... thank you again for saving my life." And she gave him a soft smile that made his heart lurch. Somehow, watching her walk away was the hardest thing he had to do that day. "Who's that?" Yoon Je curiously asks, looking from him to the figure of the departing girl. "Your friend?"  "Someone," Do Ha says, glancing at Yoon Je, "that I'm going to marry." A beat. "Well, that's really sudden," his friend comments, crossing his arms. "You've never really shown any interest in any girl in our school - even Jung Yi-Seul, the most popular girl in campus - and now you're saying you're going to marry a girl you just met?" Do Ha shrugs, shoves his hands in his pockets, and turns to go the opposite way. It was hard to explain what, exactly, he was feeling. Just that he's filled with a certainty he's never felt before. Like his life has been missing a puzzle piece this entire time, and now that he's found her-- "Well, does your girl have a name?" Yoon Je asks, catching up to Do Ha. A beat. And then Do Ha turns to him in horror. ...shit.

--

Han Ri Ta. He finds out a few days later, just as an online article comes out about the winner of a local school photography contest - with her picture on top of it. Her entry shows a picture of the moon in the sky, clear as day, even if the sun was brighter than it. She called it Moon In the Day, Yearning for Night. Do Ha smiles, feeling as though another of his life pieces has neatly slid into place. Han Ri Ta.

--

He finds himself standing in front of her school, waiting for-- "Can I help you?" someone asks from behind him.  And Do Ha turns, coming face to face with-- --Han Ri Ta. "Oh!" she says, covering her mouth with both her hands. "It's you!" "You remember me?" Do Ha asks cautiously. She laughs, making his heart feel light. "Of course! I can't ever forget the face of the guy who saved me from a fall, after all. I owe you my life, Sir." "Have you been careful?" he says. "Like I told you to be?" She grins. "You'll be glad to know that I have had zero near-death experience since I saw you last." "That's good," Do Ha replies, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'd hate if anything were to happen to you." Live. Please live, Han Ri Ta. I beg you. And a slightly awkward moment passes between them."So," she says, glancing around them. "Are you waiting around for someone?" Do Ha blinks at her. "I--" "I know almost everyone in our school," Ri Ta adds, beaming up at him. "Maybe I can help you find them." Another beat. And Do Ha finds himself clearing his throat. "I was... hoping I'd run into you." She raises a brow at that. "You were?" --shit. "The, uh, picture you took," Do Ha continues. "About the moon in the day? I thought it was really beautiful. I wanted to talk about it." He pauses and says softly, "You're really talented, Han Ri Ta." And her name slides out of his mouth like a blessing. She cocks her head to one side, just studying him - and Do Ha feels as though he's done Something Wrong. Which is ridiculous, of course. He's been known all his life as Mr. Perfect-at-Everything. Even if he'd tried, he wouldn't be able to take any missteps.  Except now, it feels like. Except in front of her. "That's unfair," she finally speaks, crossing her arms. "It seems you already know my name, but I have yet to know yours." Oh. Right. "Kim Do Ha," he says, breathing easily now. Ri Ta smiles again.  "Kim Do Ha," she repeats. "That's great. At least now I don't have to call you Sir when I think of you." And Do Ha blinks at her. "You think of me?" he asks, point-blank. And her face turns bright red. "O-Oh, well," she sputters, "it's not often that I get saved, so." Another awkward moment passes between them. But, again, she cuts that moment short when she brightly asks him, "Would you like to have some coffee?" 

--

And that moment leads to the next, and the next, and the next. And now--

--

They're in their third month of dating. Do Ha has his head on her lap, feeling as peaceful as ever. She's humming a soft song as she slides her fingers through his hair, and this, this, to him feels like home.

"Don't you find it strange?" Ri Ta asks. Do Ha opens his eyes to look up at her inquiringly. "I mean-- everything that's happened between us," she continues. "It feels... I don't know. Too easy?" "Would you prefer it if things between us were complicated?" he asks carefully.   She shrugs. "It's just... something we took up in history class," Ri Ta says. "About a Silla General who took a wife from Gaya. She ended up murdering him and her father, you know, before taking her own life."  Do Ha closes his eyes. "She must have a pretty good reason to do it." "I guess," she says, running her finger across his brow. "I just keep thinking about how their lives were back then. Having an enemy by your side as your spouse. And it's just--" She pauses. Do Ha waits. "Do you think they loved each other?" Ri Ta continues. "Even if they were enemies?" Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes. "What do you think?" he asks her back. She sighs. "Would it be weird," she replies, "if I told you I feel happy when I think of them?" Do Ha looks at her again. "I mean, that we don't live like them now," Ri Ta explains, smiling at him. "That we're no Silla General and Gaya Royalty. That you're you, and I'm me. That we're--" "--ordinary?" he adds. Ri Ta pauses, then quickly bends down to kiss his lips. "Exactly," she says. "I love that we're ordinary now." And Do Ha gently cradles the back of her head and pulls it down, just so he can claim her mouth again. Slowly. Thoroughly. I do, too.

[l-in-the-light]

Thanks for your detailed answer 🥰🙏 I'm the one who asked about his sexual orientation. I do agree that Sex isn't his No 1 priority. I think he would be more into cuddling, holding his partner and feeling loved. I just think he needs so taking care of him. But even this would be a hard piece of work. Might take a very long time to get him so far. I often read these fanfics about him being the super lover but I don't see him that way at all. If he has sex I think he's a little bit insecure and maybe he still has the issues of amber lead in his head about being disgusting and nobody wanting to touch him. But maybe he just has to learn to take care of his mental and physical health. Someone showing him how pleasure could feel like. In my headcanons a part of him is still the little boy Cora left behind.

Anon, this is so sweet! I'm sorry I can't just keep it to myself and not share <3 I really hope you don't mind!

I think I know exactly which type of fics you mean. They portray Law as this rude, cold, distrustful, lacking empathy person (later revealed he does have some but only for his crew and his lover), but when it comes to relationships and sex he is suddenly a normal or picture perfect lover. There's no pettiness, no insecurity in him. He's an expert lover with tons of experience and there is always a tiny flashback going in the background when it's specified he always goes for the attractive person he finds, because he's one hot bastard as well and he knows it. I just wanna ask sometimes: is it that embarrassing to write him as anything other than cool? He's just human, we like humans for their flaws and stupid gimmicks, not because they're perfect. He can be cool and awkward at the same time, I promise, it can work!

It's okay if Law isn't great at sex. It's fine if he never had it before, no matter the reason. Just because he is knowledgable (and I do think he is, after all he holds unusually big interest in how bodies work) doesn't yet mean it automatically makes him a great lover, knowing exactly how to make his partner enjoy stuff. He would of course try that and I think he would be a fast learner (both he and Luffy are when it comes to fighting so why not with this as well), but it's okay if he fails too or things go awkward. But I guess it's just not the main reason people read smut fics. I would read those.

Imo someone showing Law that touch can feel good and he will always receive it without having to beg for it, is slowly becoming my new kink. It would need a careful balance of consent and working through triggering issues, because just like you said, I'm sure he still doesn't see himself as attractive, in his mind he probably still expects people to snap back to "don't come closer!" at any moment. Please write it, anyone, I beg you <3

[voxofthevoid]

Hey, I actually don't know if you've ever answered the question I'm going to ask (I'm like 90% sure you did lol), but you're very active on Tumblr, so I couldn't find an updated direct response 😅 - have you ever considered to post more often on ao3, not just one chapter for each work you're currently posting? From my understanding, all JJK and Marvel works you have on a current schedule are finished? And don't get me wrong - of course you have life and I don't mean you SHOULD post everything all at once, but as a fic writer myself - I do not have a patience to sit on my works for long! Like I need to share my obsession I have with certain ships ASAP. For example, your Shibuya Swap fic - someone already picked on that too - will take 2 years to post! That's insane, I don't know if I would like my own stuff in 2 years enough to not feel embarrassed about it and delete, and you will be coming back to it on a monthly basis for 2 years at best, 2.5 at worst, if something will not change the schedule by that time.

Or could it be, that those works aren't actually *finished* it's just that you have a general idea or "drafts" how will it start, progress and end?

I really admire your consistency though, but sometimes can't help myself, but think "Man, I wish you'd post *that* fic more often, it's SO good!" Or post like one fic, just 3-5 chapters of it in a month or sum. But alas, I will restrain myself from begging on my knees in the ao3 comments, because I can understand how annoying it can get, FAST (I dealt with certain people there, too).

Have a great day and please don't take this question as an attack, I'm just a desperate fan of yours, who can't even mind my own business most of the time due to being an ANNOYING person with ADHD lmfao🙏

You WILL see me generally commenting *OMG SO GOOD WOW HOLD UP* gibberish on your works, though (it is a threat).

Haha, don't worry, I won't bite your head off for this. No offense taken or attack interpreted 💜

I have answered a few versions of this question before, twice in relation to JJK and at least once in relation to MCU. They're all somewhere in this tag (link only works in browsers), and the former two will be more recent...but well, that tag has 127 pages of results and Tumblr search sucks balls; even I can't find my posts most of the time, so I definitely don't expect others to. But I did hunt down the most recent one: https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/post/746745605036064768/hey-i-was-wondering-why-you-post-one-chapter-a

As for stuff you've asked that's not covered in that answer—

My works are all finished, not just drafts. The "plot bunnies" I talk about are outlines of varying detail, but the fics I'm posting to Ao3 as well as the fics I've posted in previous WIP Wednesday installments are all complete. They need editing, but my first drafts are essentially my final drafts. I proofread to catch typos and grammar errors and to generally polish the phrasing. My day job is editing, which means I'm extremely lazy about editing my leisure writing, but I manage a decent pass.

Regarding how I feel about my work years down the line: I've more or less settled into my writing style. It's still changing and growing, and I enjoy experiments and challenges, but the base quality is at a level I'm content with in terms of both prose and mechanical elements. I'm not embarrassed by anything I've written after 2018, and I don't really see that changing. I will always see the flaws prominently, both objective and subjective ones, but I'll also see the strengths. The older fics (2014–2018) are of significantly poorer quality as well as clumsily executed in many, many ways, but I'm still proud of my ideas and absolutely delighted by how they still entertain so many people. Regardless of my personal feelings toward my writing at a given time, I won't delete my fics.

As for patience, I am indeed patient 🤣. Well, for a year or so, I've been posting snippets from whatever I'm currently working on as WIP Wednesday posts, so I am actively sharing the pieces that I'm working on, but I'm pretty comfortable with sitting on the full stories for months or even years. It just doesn't bother me.

The only issue with how I build a backlog is that once I lose interest in the ship/fandom, my posting slows down, and I get 100 times lazier about editing—to the point I'll likely post the rest of my MCU and Bleach works all raw and dirty. One of the reasons I'm posting as much as I do for JJK is that I'd like to avoid a similar fate in this fandom. Fool's errand with how my inspiration and writing function, but hey, no harm in trying.

And, in line with the post I've linked above, even if I had fewer fics on the roster, my pace would remain a chapter a month per fic. Let's say I suddenly stop writing and also whittle my backlog down to only 2 fics: That won't mean I'll post 3 chapters each for those 2 fics every month; I'll still only post twice a month in total—one chapter from each fic.

As long as no one's being rude or entitled (I've seen some asinine takes about prewritten fics being posted slowly), I consider people wanting more of specific stories as a compliment! However, you'll have to be patient right along with me 😂

And that's a wonderful threat; I look forward to it 🥰

[ofallthingsnasty]

Omg that new capture kill post was amazing! well worth the wait😫😫😍Bill is the worst lmao

I mean considering the circumstances of this relationship, it could be a way worse situation for the reader. But I could just feel the reader's frustration with her life in the writing. She's so bitter about it all ( understandable lol) but she can't escape from this prison that Bill has made for her because he's a damn werewolf that will track her down no matter where she goes💀💀💀 And now that she already has a kid, along with Bill actively trying to knock her up again....yeah the 'JuST DivORCE HIm' advice isn't going to cut it🙃🙃

And jeez Bill is such a deadbeat lol Does he actually help out at all with the housework and looking after their daughter? I can just imagine the poor reader later on pregnant AGAIN and with one kid tied to her back, another in her arms, and little Claire throwing a tantrum in the corner, and the reader just begging Bill to please help her make dinner😭😭😭 And Bill just laying on the couch smoking a cigarette going 'nah you got this babe, but we can fuck after you put the kids to bed😘' ughhhhh what a jerk💀💀💀💀

Out of all the men you have written about, I honestly thought that local nasty man Micah Bell would be winning the award for worst husband/father of the year🏆But he's got some serious competition lmaooo😭🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ because from your posts at least Micah does the reader the one favor of pissing off for a couple weeks/months and leaving her in peace. So I honestly don't know who is worse out of the two yikes haha. And Evan? Sure he would be a pretty good dad, but with the trade off that the reader is never allowed to leave the basement...ever...soo🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Sorry about the long rant😅 your fics just vibe with my brain so much💖💖

😭💕 Oh my god please never ever ever apologize for ranting in my inbox, there is no such thing!! I'm beyond stoked that someone thinks that deeply about my silly little creations 😭 And I'm glad it was worth the wait for you!! Some days I can only write 200 words because I have so little time, which complicates things so much, ack

I mean considering the circumstances of this relationship, it could be a way worse situation for the reader.

That's true, haha - if you tried to pull these little stunts with Evan, you'd lose 'talking privilege' quicker than you can say fuck off. Bill is really only that lenient because he knows you can't leave (and because it's hot to get you all riled up and then take you down a peg or two). He isn't delusional, either - he knows full-well that what he's done is fucked up but why should he care again? You're his cute (sometimes hissy) little wife, you cook, clean, take care of his children - and he can fuck you whenever he wants to, because what you're gonna do? Fucking nothing, that's right.

He has his silly little 'old man' insecurities because you're a bit younger than him and can get quite jealous, but that's remedied with making you stink of him. Easy.

And jeez Bill is such a deadbeat lol Does he actually help out at all with the housework and looking after their daughter?

With housework? Oh no, never 😭

With Claire? Kind of? He takes Claire off your hands once in a while - his secret weapon is his mother, who is a rather lovely lady, actually. That woman pities you so much, she'll even let your (future) three kids dance on her back if it means that you can catch your breath here and there. He does more with his sons than with Claire - but only to bully them into becoming "real men" (😢). He's such a fucking asshole, I'm making myself mad over here lol (Also you're spot-on with that scenario, that is him to a T 😭)

Out of all the men you have written about, I honestly thought that local nasty man Micah Bell would be winning the award for worst husband/father of the year🏆But he's got some serious competition lmaooo😭🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

💀😂 hfdjfhdsjk - Micah might leave you and the kids for weeks at a time but your finances are a DISASTER. Bill isn't the richest man in the world, either, but at least he has a stable income and with the exception for cigarettes, he actually doesn't spend much money on himself. Every penny goes to the kids, then you - he has at least a little bit of honor. (And tbh I pictured the reader-character as at least a part-time worker - as long as it's feasible, of course. I heard childcare is expensive asf in the US.) Sorry, Bill - you only get second place 😭

(Also Evan is actually a super involved, very loving father. Considering that you're never leaving the house unsupervised, that man shoulders everything. But he does it with glee. He loves his little boy. He's just an absolute freak of a husband 😭😂)

Thank you so much for this sweet ask!! You made me think of the logistics of this way way deeper than I ever thought I would lmao

[bi-bats]

11, 14, 39, 55, and 67 for the ask list?

(manifesting that zeus transcends his mortal state and becomes physically invincible btw, hope things get better <3)

Jpeg my BELOVED HELLO 💖💚💕 your wishes were well received by both me and the Zeus, who is currently batting my feet for food and hasn't puked in three days and has been finishing all of his foods! I appreciate the positivity from you and from everyone, and brb gonna go feed him

okay I'm back and here we go!!!

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

Reading Him by @chipmunkery - yes AGAIN OKAY EVERYONE READ IT I'M LITERALLY BEGGING YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ IT I KNOW JAYBART IS NOT AN OBVIOUS SHIP BUT PLEASE JUST TRUST ME IT WORKS ALSO I GIGGLE ABOUT ONE OF THE LINES LIKE. 5 TIMES A DAY IT'S SO GOOD AND JPEG YOU SPECIFICALLY WILL LOVE THE BART REP IN THIS I PROMISE!!

The Detente series by MsSolo - I binge read like more than half of this entire series in one day and then I had to take a break because Damian and Tim and the DamiTim in this is so deeply unwell that it was making ME unwell okay I had to pause because it was ruining me and I really really want to finish it because I can't stop thinking about it, it has so so so many lines that just fucking HIT and they hit ME IN A DEEPLY PERSONAL WAY BUT IT'S SO GOOD I HAVE TO FINISH IT AKSDJFLAKJDFKSL (also honorary mention to their fic People Ruin Beautiful Things, if you can handle Ra's/Tim you should read that but lemme tell you if you think Tim is unwell in Detente?? Woof. Like. Trigger warning on Tim in the Ra's/Tim one. He is beyond deeply unwell in this)

Revelations and Heartbreaks by Xavierurban (@atasteforsuicidal) - okay yeah it's jaytim smut BUT it's also incredibly beautiful in the way that it's written and the exploration of trust in their relationship and also the two of them and their devotion to each other is just *mwah* literally perfect, it makes me auruhahruahrgargagrgarhaurarhuahruahr I think about this fic so often. Read it 💖

14. how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

I start with a clear idea of the conversation at the beginning and where the conversation is going to progress the story, and where each character is at emotionally. Then I have a few moments of inspiration on dialogue that I know I need somewhere in the scene, and then I start moving through the scene in order. I start working through the emotional shifts, I let the feelings grow or shrink or snap into place, and I usually am guided by what each character wants. It's always important to me that I know what each character feels at the start of the scene, what they want, and what they're afraid of.

I wouldn't say I feel what they feel exactly. I put myself in their shoes and think about what they're feeling, and I feel for them, but I don't actually feel upset if they're upset, etc. I definitely draw from personal experience sometimes, but not always. I do it the most with Tim for sure!

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

Smut? Smut snippet? Smut snippet for Jpeg?

“You liked when I said you were good, didn’t you?” A breathy moan is the only answer he can give. “You just want someone to take the reins for a little bit, huh? Just make everything else go away.”

(from the DamiTim fic ofc)

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Okay, for the last two years I definitely would have said Tim because he just comes so naturally to me and people really respond so kindly to the way I write him, but currently my favorite is definitely Damian. There is something about writing him specifically for me that lets me access a very poetic voice that I just wouldn't use when it comes to Tim or Jason, and I really love the way his voice comes out when I write it.

Also maybe I just need a little break from writing Tim since I've posted over 200k words from his perspective in the last yearish okay

67. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

I actually don't really have a preference!! I preferred prompts when I didn't have any ideas and was worried I would never have anything to write ever again after Rooftops & Bookshops, and then. well. you saw the ask where I listed my wips the other day right? lol yeah now I don't prefer one over the other!

Thank you for the ask bestie 💖💖💖💖

[bringerofdeathandtheapocolypse]

Am I allowed to complain that there is only one fic on AO3 where Ivan harms Gajeel in any way and I've A. already read it and B. Its not been updated since last year.

Like why is basically no one making stories about Ivan targeting Gajeel? Its great angst content. (Especially if its a ship between Gajeel and Laxus)

I honestly don't care if it has a ship or not. I just want Ivan wanting revenge on Gajeel angst dammit.

If I wasn't so preoccupied with writing the au then I would do it myself but between the main story, the several side stories and a random story about Laxus that is unrelated I can't do it justice right now.

Maybe in the future.

Just please. I'm begging. Someone do a story where Ivan does something to Gajeel. Blackmailing, threatening him, physically beating him, trying to kill him, giving him a permanant injury. Something. and tag me because I need my angst fix for this and I can not find it anywhere.

Or if someone knows of a fic like this on any platform, ao3, wattpad, fanfic, ect then please let me know.