#IT'S BEEN SO ARDUOUS IT FINALLY HAPPENED

[luveline]

PLEASE IM BEGGING I WILL SELL MY FAMILY FIR THIS

More flirty bombshell reader but Spencer was just let out of prison and now instead of just getting all hot and bothered he flirts back 😼

Love you and your writing pooks 😏😚🫶🏾

love you! fem, 1.1k

This has been the longest eighty four days of your life. Not even three months apart and yet it's felt as long and arduous as three years, and so you do what you must on the day Spencer is released from Milburn; you take your time putting yourself back together, preening and polishing, as pretty as you've ever looked. 

Penelope looks good too, JJ as well. The girls are here to represent, and that's without mentioning Luke's general unbelievable physique. 

You're pissed at being left outside but you can manage. You can cope. You don't think Penelope, bless her huge heart, is going to fight you for Spencer's attention. Not for a good five seconds. What to say first? I miss you, I love you, I'm so fucking sorry I let this happen, that I couldn't do more. 

He appears behind a grate door, Luke at his side. Then the grate is opening, JJ with tears in her eyes behind him, and every idea of what to do goes out the window. 

Your breath catches before he's so much as touched you. 

"Hey," you say. It starts well, ends weak, tears in your eyes as you choke, "hey, handsome." 

"Hey," he says, hugging you with more care than you're expecting. "Oh my god, hey." He lets out a sigh of relief, his face dipping down to press against your shoulder. You feel the familiar curve of his nose and hold your breath to stop from crying.

You let him go a selfish ten seconds later, but Spencer keeps your hand as he hugs Penelope, one-armed. It's awful and selfish and you don't care, you go in for the second hug on tiptoes, arms behind his neck, your mouth pressed as high as you can reach on his face. A mess of lip gloss is left behind when they finally crowbar you off of him long enough to get in the car, and even then you're clinging to his hand, worried someone will take him again, that you won't be able to do a thing about it. 

You wrap your arms around his and hug him on the drive back. You can't stop looking up into his face. Spencer, unflinching, meets you there, his eyes a little glassy, his face sallow but getting better. 

"Missed me?" you ask quietly. You've only so much privacy. 

"So much." 

"Like a hole in the head?" 

Spencer leans down an inch. "No, like, I really missed you." 

"Of course you did, you–" Spencer leans down suddenly and disarms you, his breath warm against your cheek. 

"I what?" he asks, kissing your cheek. 

"You haven't been away from me that long in years," you breathe. 

"It took getting used to," he says agreeably, speaking low, his breath hotter still as he kisses upward. Two kisses, that's all they are, but when he sits straight again you're thrown. 

"But you got used to it?" 

"No," he says, smiling at you like you've made a funny joke rather than thinly veiled insecurity spoken in a desperate attempt to garner some reassurance. 

It was difficult coping with the hurt of his having left you in the dark. You knew he was doing something he shouldn't have been, but you never for a moment imagined this outcome. You worried (deep down, and not for his ears) that he'd met someone new, that he'd grown disinterested in your years of love and life. Of you. Especially as he's matured, which is to say he stopped looking like he was about to walk the stage at New York Fashion week and started dressing sharp as a tack. Your Spencer stayed yours, but he got older, and you did too —you look older. You're still yourself, high maintenance, prideful, sweet, but you're not the same. 

Between the distance that bloomed with his secrecy and his growing maturity, you were caught off guard. And then not long after he was arrested in Mexico and you couldn't get him out no matter what you did, or who you begged for help. 

Spencer brings his hand to your cheek, tilting your head one way slowly, and then the other. There's confidence in his touch that you've felt before, just never to this extent. 

What happened to you? you think. 

"I'm sorry," he says. 

"For what, sweetheart?" you ask, meaning it implicitly. He's your sweetheart. He's everything. You're too high on his return to want an apology. 

"For everything. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you." 

There's something you can work with. "Oh, you will?"

"I promise." 

Mindful of your friends in the front seats, you press your cheek into his hand, turning your head just enough to touch your lips to his palm. His eyes are dark brown where they meet yours, pupil and iris one and the same. "How?" you murmur. 

Spencer brushes his thumb against your bottom lip. Something in his eyes speaks even as he stays quiet, a light, an amusement, as if to say, I know exactly what you're doing, but it won't work. 

I'm not a saint, you say back with a sheepish smile. You close your eyes and let your head fall into his shoulder. He hugs you close despite the lack of room, his chin landing atop your head gently. "You'll have to try harder," he whispers. 

"Don't know what you mean." 

"Months of missing you and the first thing you do is try to torture me." 

"That's our thing." 

"No, our thing is me worshipping the ground you walk on," he says into your hair, hand squeezing as it roves up your arm, reassuring himself that you're there, that you're real. 

"Like I wouldn't do the same if you'd let me. I would've done anything." He probably can't hear you anymore, your voice a suggestion of sound. "I would've done anything if I thought it would…" get you back to me.

Spencer does you a favour of ignoring you. Later, you know he'll bring it up again. You'll have time, because he's going home. For now he does his best to hold you together in the company of others, always thinking about what you need. "You look so pretty today. Is that for me?" 

"I always look pretty." You haven't felt it lately.

"I know. Maybe it's because I didn't see you for so long… It's like seeing you again for the first time." 

Your chest aches in a strangely nice way. "And how are you coping, handsome?" 

He rests his cheek on your forehead. On paper, you're flirting. In actuality, you're being one hundred percent honest with each other. "I'm not. My blood pressure has gotta be 180 over 110 right now."

"I love it when you talk medical to me." 

"I love you." 

You nose at his suit sleeve ineffectually "I love you." 

[wheneverfeasible]

Mother’s Day

Below is a little thing I wrote just now to try to process my own emotions surrounding Mother’s Day and the pain of not being loved enough by someone who should have loved you unconditionally. So excuse any typos because it’s not really edited yet lol. It did admittedly become more Steddie focused though lol what can I say, even in emotional turmoil these little gay idiots are my brain rot.

wc: 1.8k || rating: T || warnings: child neglect, toxic mothers, dead mothers, difficult relationships with mothers/parents

~

Steve waited a respectful distance away as Eddie knelt at his mother’s grave. A year ago, Eddie had been fighting for his life, had been so gravely injured that no one really expected him to make it, to survive. He coded at least three separate times those first few months, and each time Steve had to watch the way Dustin and Eddie’s uncle began preparing for the worst.

Miraculously, however, he did it. Eddie pulled through. Eddie lived.

It took some doing, but they even got the charges against Eddie dropped with the help of the prodigal Hopper, back from the dead and about to make it every government and city officials’ problem. He tore into Powell for allowing the town to put out a witch hunt, for indicating that Eddie could be guilty with no evidence that Eddie even touched Chrissy.

Powell quietly stepped down, willingly taking a leave of absence, and Hopper stepped right back into his role as Chief of Police as a resident hero. It became much smoother sailing for the Munsons after that, especially after the Carvers left down after the death of Jason and bad publicity from his apparent lunacy.

Eddie still had much to overcome, however, having had half his guts chewed to bits, and his physical therapy was long and arduous. He at least had company in the form of Max, recipient of metal implants in her body to fix her shattered bones, though even now her eyesight had yet to return.

Steve helped them, of course, because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Robin and Vickie were getting along swimmingly now and Steve knew she needed her own space to work out what that all meant, so he had plenty of free time.

Plus, the little brats were at the hospital every spare second of their day to visit both Max and Eddie, and they frequently needed a ride. Nancy and Jonathan helped out sometimes in that regard, but more often than not it was Steve. He didn’t mind, however. Having come so close to losing Max, Steve liked to keep an eye on her as well.

And then there was Eddie.

Eddie was something…different.

He was a friend, certainly, but Steve knew that had none of this happened, they probably never would have become friends quite like they were now. He was also aware that, now that things were finally and truly over thanks to Eleven—Jane—that Eddie had no reason to want to hang out with someone like him.

Except Eddie always seemed happy when Steve peeked through the doorway with a little finger wave, face lighting up in delight and proudly proclaiming to his uncle that he wouldn’t have survived without Steve’s help, much to Steve’s embarrassment.

Steve’s parents, miraculously, returned to town. Steve had thought, perhaps, they’d finally pay attention to his injuries. That they’d see the hospital bill and the antibiotics Steve had to take and the bloody bandages and the nightmares that wouldn’t leave him alone and just…finally care.

It was wishful thinking.

Steve’s dad set to work trying to take advantage of things for his business, to take over the roles left empty by the “earthquakes” to gather even more influence and resources for himself. Steve’s mom set to volunteering, though always looking picture perfect for the multiple articles about her benevolence in the newspaper.

Steve’s mom was loved in the community, respected, adored. She played her part well. No one except those close to him would ever suspect Steve of being neglected at home, his needs always coming second to his parents’ schemes towards their public image. Nevermind that his father’s cheating was an open secret, or that his mother could cut someone down and have them cast out of the social elite with just a few words.

Steve had learned at a young age that he would never be either of his parents’ priority.

Seeing Wayne, unashamed tears in his eyes, clasping Eddie’s hand from where he sat at his bedside day and night as he recovered wasn’t the first crack but it was definitely a significant one for Steve to finally see how parents should treat their children.

Did he even really have parents? Were the Harringtons truly his family? Or was it the ragtag bunch who, despite the constant bickering and snarky comments and insults, had his back when things mattered? Who put bands on his face, held ice to his head, tore their own clothing to form bandages, who bared their souls to him in shitty public restrooms, who smiled when they saw him like they were genuinely happy to see him?

When Steve left his house for the final time, he didn’t even think his parents noticed. He honestly still didn’t know. When he showed up on Robin’s doorstep with his single duffle bag of items, she didn’t hesitate to bring him in with a smile on her face that said she was proud of him for finally making himself a priority.

Her parents didn’t feel quite comfortable with him staying there, however, so he hopped around and stayed with the Hopper-Byers who accepted him without a word after he explained things to them. Joyce was still wary of him a bit, he could tell, because of his past altercations with her children, but she didn’t turn him away.

It was a little uncomfortable staying with the boy your ex-girlfriend left you for and his entire family, however, so Steve somehow found himself staying with the Munsons as well. Which worked out, honestly. As part of their hush money promise, the government had purchased them a small two bedroom house in one of the areas left undamaged by the earthquakes, the previous residents having left the cursed town for good.

And that was…weird, but mostly weird because it wasn’t. At first it had been, sure. But he’d gotten so used to Eddie and his uncle while Eddie was still in the hospital that it really didn’t change things up too much. Plus, Steve being there allowed Wayne to return to work, and Steve helped Eddie to and from his physical therapy and anything else he needed.

And so they got closer.

And closer.

Until one night Steve didn’t have to sleep on the couch.

In the morning, there had been chaos. Or he thought it would be chaos. He’d been ready to jump up and protect Eddie when Wayne found them curled up in bed together, was preparing himself for hateful words and hard fists. He’d been terrified, but thought to give Eddie enough time to make his escape, except…

Wayne just sighed out ‘finally’ and told them breakfast was on the table.

Robin punched him in the arm later when he told her, but since she was sporting a hickey on her neck barely covered up by her blouse, he figured she didn’t have much room to talk.

When Eddie finally felt well enough, there was talk of taking a trip. Eddie wanted to get out of town for a while and Steve honestly couldn’t blame him. Steve thought a change in scenery would do well for both of them, especially when Steve kept seeing his parents around town and being hailed as benevolent heroes of the community for their volunteer work and (taxable) donations, yet they never looked for him.

When they did see him, their eyes skimmed away like Steve was nothing more than a stranger to them. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he had always been a stranger in his own house.

Summer was once more fast approaching. Having received his GED last year, Eddie was ready to get the hell out of town before the school year ended, especially since he wanted to visit somewhere specific first.

His mother’s grave.

Eddie told him late one night under the covers, his fingers absentmindedly tracing through Steve’s chest hair, that the last time he flatlined, the time everyone finally thought that that was it, he saw his mother again.

He didn’t know if it was a hallucination or maybe a glimpse into the other side, everything was possible now he supposed, but she looked as beautiful as she did before she got sick and crushed him to her body. She had whispered how much she loved him, how proud of him he was, but that it wasn’t his time yet. She had told him he deserved to be loved and that he would find it soon, that it was closer than he thought, and she would always be with him.

Eddie had looked up onto Steve’s eyes from where his head rested on his shoulder and smiled, saying that his mom had been right. Love was closer to him than he’d ever thought possible. It was the first time Eddie told him he loved him, the first time Steve told him the same, and Steve knew then that this was what home was supposed to be like.

Watching Eddie now, whispering his final goodbyes he never got the chance to say and telling his mom how right she had been, Steve felt an ache in his chest. He felt guilty as well, or rather he felt guilty that he didn’t feel guilty.

He wished he could change places with Eddie, felt jealous of him, wished that his mom had loved him even if it meant she was dead too. Had his mother ever told him she loved him? He honestly couldn’t remember.

He felt like a terrible person for thinking such things, but the ache in his chest was still too raw, still too painful. Especially on today of all days.

“Happy Mother’s Day, mom,” Eddie whispered, one beringed hand clasping onto her headstone, tears evident in his voice. “Goodbye.”

Steve was there in an instant, arm around Eddie’s waist to help him up as he steadied himself on his cane. Eddie smiled at him, thankful and loving, even as tears rolled down his cheeks. Steve gently kissed them away, feeling Eddie’s expression soften beneath his lips.

“She would have loved you,” he whispered, allowing Steve to guide him back to the car.

Steve kissed Eddie’s head as he helped the man settle in the passenger seat, watching the way his eyelids flutter, emotional and physical exhaustion taking its toll. He glanced back at the grave, and for a split moment, he thought he could almost see a sparkle of light and feel a mother’s love.

“Thank you for loving him,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of him now, I promise.”

Maybe Steve’s mother would never love him the way he wanted her to, but as Steve drove off towards the rising sun, hands clasped with the man he loved, he allowed himself to heal just a little more. The ache may never leave him, but he wasn’t alone anymore. And he never would be again.

~

ao3

Hostage Hotties (open):

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-weirdlife @everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes @hiei-harringtonmunson @estrellami-1 @nebulaoz

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 2

No. 1 Party Anthem

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 2/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,294  masterlist

Currently playing: No. 1 Party Anthem by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

        Sirius Black was not a somber man. He was known for being loud, rambunctious, insufferable, incorrigible. His voice echoed and his eyes shone when he laughed. He did not wallow nor turn gloomy. He had suffered too much in his life for that. But you had turned his life blue. Your absence left a hole in his heart. It had been three months. Three arduous months of a game of cat and mouse. You avoided him at any cost, clinging off of your boyfriend's arm more often than not. Sirius seemed to always be searching for you. 

He felt the rush of adrenaline as he finished his drink in one gulp, it had tasted horribly bitter at the beginning of the night. Now he couldn't taste it at all. He had been on the prowl the whole night. For you, just to catch a peek of you would be enough. To hear your laughter would soothe his growing anxiety and the paranoia that you were out of his life for good. He'd do anything for a glimpse of you. He wondered if you had come and left already. The thought settled in his heart like a pile of rocks. 

Sirius could feel the beat of the music in his chest it overpowered the beat of his own heart and the ringing in his ears wouldn't stop. Between the lights on the floor and the sweat that seemed to permeate the walls. He felt like he was searching for his soul, tumbling between people, staring too hard to see if it was you through the darkness. It kept slipping from his fingers. You kept slipping. 

He hated this point of getting drunk. He hated the way he knew there was no way back from this threshold. No matter how much water he drank or bread Peter fed him there was no way back. He hated that he still had the itch to get more because he might as well be completely pissed. He'd feel sick regardless. He felt his heart beating in his ears as he finally laid eyes on you. A cigarette hanging from your lips even indoors. You had been smoking a lot more. He had found and monitored the pile of cigarette butts in a corner of the astronomy tower. The only trace of you he could ever find these days.

He wondered if you were happy.

The fun-colored drink in your hand swished and swirled as you laughed, the blond gripping your hip. He could see James across from you, laughing and chatting spiritedly. No doubt recounting some dumb story, Lily shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. They had finally gotten together. Or so he thought. He felt like a terrible friend. He couldn't think straight. He caught James's eye, he hoped he'd come get him. 

Sirius felt like his feet were slowly being cemented into the ground. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, the only grounding force as the mass of people around him overtook his senses. 

"Let's go Padfoot, you need a walk," Remus whispered into his ear, worry seeping through his skin, his demeanor. Sirius felt the beat and the melancholic lyrics that were starting to resonate through the charmed speakers clutched his heart with an iron grip. He shook his head furiously, he couldn't go. Not when he had just found you. Just when he had finally seen the light. It had been like catching a glimpse of a star in the middle of a stormy night. 

"Come on Moony-" Sirius moaned out, his eyes barely open, barely registering the scarred boy's figure. "Before she's gone before the moments gone-"

Remus dragged Sirius away regardless. He wasn't going to be making much sense if he spoke to you anyway. Remus felt bad, sometimes he'd hear Sirius mumble your name in his sleep. It was fleeting and slurred but after the third time it happened, his wand illuminating only the page of the book he was reading, Remus knew it was indeed your name. 

The Ravenclaw common room entrance was directly connected to a staircase, Sirius's head lulled to the side colliding with Remus's shoulder. Neither of them dared actually to go down the stairs. 

"Up, come on pads,” Remus finally got Sirius upright but turned as the door opened once again, the chatter and music from inside spilling into the hall briefly.

"Is he good?" James shut the door behind him,

"I'm doing great Prongs I just need a smoke," Sirius had wandered over to the small stone window, breathing in the fresh night air. He briefly thought of throwing up. 

Remus sighed offering Sirius a cigarette, rolling his eyes as James's lips resembled an 'o' in surprise. 

"I thought we were all collectively quitting?" James put out his hand, fingertips tingling with excitement. Lily didn't like it. James had quit way before they got together anyway.

One wouldn't kill him. Remus placed it on his palm. 

"Where's Wormtail?" Sirius turned to look at the two other men, a, now lit, cigarette hanging from each of their lips.

"Last I saw, chatting up Dorcas Meadowes," James chuckled as he blew out some smoke,

"I reckon he doesn't know she's a wee lesbian" Remus mumbled from between his cigarette

The other two broke out in a roar of laughter, they loved Peter dearly but he could be a bit clueless sometimes. 

"Marls is going to kill him," James clutched his stomach as he laughed. Sirius threw his head back as he continued to laugh, his forearms supporting him as they leaned on the window ledge. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he continued to laugh. The world still spun around him. But the sound of his friend’s laughter grounded him. He hadn't felt like this in a while. 

As they all calmed down again, snorts and chuckles still bouncing every so often, they continued to take drags of smoke. 

"What's been going on with you lately?" James's voice was low, a heavier tone than the one that usually laced his tone. Brows furrowed in concern and his free hand was tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Remus stomped out his cig with his chucks, crossing his arms as he looked in between the two other men. He could feel the air become thick, as Sirius mulled over the question and continued to hang his head out the window, letting the air blow at his short curls. They reached a little under cheekbones now, he was relieved.

Remus felt his knit sweater was going to suffocate him. 

James thought of repeating his question.

"Is she happy?" Sirius finally broke the silence, taking the last drag of his cig before he also stomped it out. The ashes and the rocky floor grinding under his heavy boot. He was starting to regret wearing only a black shirt to cover his torso, the short sleeves had been cuffed and he could feel the cold night air pick at the skin of his arms. 

"I don't think it's fair for you to question that," James mumbled. He loved Sirius. He did. He was his brother, his closest confidant. He’d been trying to convince him to run away and stay with him. His mother had a room prepared already. He'd do anything for the boy. 

But brothers or not. Sirius was a fool. He had been for a while now. He could see the look on Sirius’s face. The look of love.

“Do you think it’s too late-“ 

“That’s even more unfair,” Remus thought of lighting a second cigarette. He didn’t.

”I need a drink,” Sirius stood upright again, his forearms marked and itched with the stamp of the edge of the window. 

Before either Remus or James could deny Sirius his itch, the door to the Ravenclaw common room opened again, this time with Peter stumbling out.

”Did we know Dorcas was a lesbian?” 

-

You didn't care that Sirius was ignoring you. You didn't care that he never glanced your way, or that he left when you came. You didn't care that you had seen a girl coming out of their dorm two weeks ago. You didn't care about him. You had a boyfriend now, a boy who cared about you and made you smile and blush. Someone who wanted you for more than just sex. Jacob was sweet, he brought you daisies and taffy. Even if you didn't adore either of those things. He always put his arm around your waist and he had started dragging you to be with his friends more often than not. You suspected he had realized he wasn't exactly popular around yours. 

You wondered sometimes, between cigarettes, if you were happy.

You hated smoking.

Jacob hated you smoking too. You pondered the psychology of your actions as you pulled one out of your pocket. He flicked your arm when he saw the stick between your fingers. If only he knew how many packs you had been running through. You ignored his glare, opting for lighting it, even if you were inside. Not like anyone would notice in the overcrowded, obscure Ravenclaw common room. Bastards had the best spot, couldn't hear anything coming from the common room for at least two flights of stairs. Horrendous to go up or down when intoxicated, however.

Lily smiled pleasantly while hanging from James's arm. They were cute, you were delighted they finally got together. It was almost like it was meant to be. You couldn't help but feel your stomach churn when she spoke of the fireworks and butterflies that lived in her chest from his look alone. Lately, life had been feeling like a pile of rocks had settled in your stomach. The dread that came with every touch and every kiss. You wondered if there was something wrong with you. You felt vaguely bored. You pushed down the thought, hoping it wouldn't crawl out again.

You weren't listening much to James, the story he had dug up to entertain his new girlfriend, and your new boyfriend was something you had lived alongside him. No point in tuning in, he had it covered.

You felt Jacob squeeze your hip. Your eyes searched the crowd, you knew what, or well who, you were looking for but you were afraid to even acknowledge it to yourself. The cold glass of your drink made your fingers numb and tingly. You wondered if he had even come tonight.

You laughed as your boyfriend did, as if on cue. You glanced at James, whose eyes flickered to someone in the crowd. You saw his smile falter.

"Y/N how about you finish the story," He finally focused back, handing Lily his drink with a kiss on her head. He left, his body weaving in and out of the crowd, without much of an excuse. You smiled awkwardly at the two people in front of you. You wanted nothing more than to hand Jacob your drink and cig to follow James out. Well, maybe not the cig.

"Flippant man isn't he?" Jacob directed a small smile towards you. You offered a very wobbly one back. You thanked the heavens as Lily left, mumbling something about Marlene having Peter by the scruff of his collar. 

Jacob’s face flashed with recognition, his hand going up as to call someone's attention. He grabbed your waist with a simple let's go and dragged you around the crowd like a rag doll. You finished your drink, the shimmery liquid burning at the back of your throat and your glass sat forgotten on some piece of furniture for someone else to find. Your now smushed cigarette sat at the bottom of the glass. You greeted Jacob's friends warmly, a small shy small playing on your lips.

You tried, you truly did but either the alcohol or the knowledge of your friends being outside wouldn't let you focus on the conversation. Jacob's friends weren't bad, just not your type of crowd. You caught a glimpse of three out of the four marauders coming back in. James immediately made a beeline for Lily, a very sweaty Peter under his arm as he noted Marlene's presence. Remus trailed slowly behind the two. Sirius was nowhere in sight.

"I'll be right back, I gotta go to the loo," you knew your lie had reached the blond as he let go of your waist with a small smile. You pushed through the crowd, avoiding your group of friends. The door was all you could focus on. The man who was possibly on the other side. You weren’t sure he was even there. You didn’t know if you were hoping he was. So you went, the cold night air immediately forcing your lungs to expand. The hall smelled like cigarette smoke. The door closed behind you and it was finally silent.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Sirius looked at you through his dark lashes, a small smirk on his face. 

"I thought we said we'd quit," your mumbled statement was meant as a joke, both of you just trying to break the icy barrier you had built between you. There wasn't a cigarette in sight.

"Your pile on the astronomy tower says otherwise" you winced, "does your little boyfriend know? I reckon he doesn't like the thought of his pretty girl frying her lungs with a cig"

You stared at him silently, your teeth biting at the inside of your cheek. You regretted finishing your drink. You pulled out the box of Player's No. 6 instinctively. 

"If you don't put it away, I'm going to throw it out the window," Sirius was drunk, he made sense but he felt like he couldn't look at you straight. He closed his eyes briefly. He sort of felt like was melting into the wall. The pack silently went into your pocket again.

"You know it's not like I'm falling in love," you didn't know why you said that.

"I didn't ask that love," you wondered if you were drunk. You observed Sirius, the way his jaw clenched, his tongue running over his teeth as he went deep in thought, eyes still closed. You trudged closer to him, forearms resting against the windowsill. You wanted to kiss him. You felt sick.

"I hate you," you mumbled as he laughed and shuffled closer. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. You looked out the window, he stared at the door, body leaning against the stone wall. 

"The same way you hate cigarettes?" He whispered this, his head turning towards yours. He didn't know what he hoped to hear. You were mere inches apart, his warmth mixing with yours, you wondered if you'd get a shock if you touched him. He fought the urge to press his lips against yours. 

"Yes, the same way" You felt the words scratch at your throat. He felt closer than ever, he moved a bit, and you held your breath. His lips pressed against your cheekbone. Right next to a little beauty mark. Soft and light but enough to tie a knot in your throat. You didn't want to cry in front of him again. You felt intoxicated.

"He won't be happy if he sees us," he parted a bit after he whispered this fact, his eyes darting to the closed door. He pressed another kiss to your cheek, this one closer to the corner of your lips. You pushed him playfully with your shoulder. You missed him.

"Do you think he'll break up with me?" you felt as pathetic as when you asked the opposite question three months ago. you frowned. It squeezed Sirius's heart in hope, he didn't answer though. But he didn't have to, you laughed and soon he did too. You laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You clutched your stomach and stumbled a bit, laughter spilling from your lips like a river. He hoped to hear you laugh like this forever. He’d never get tired of the sound. 

You discovered that Sirius found it equally as hilarious. Tears gathered in his eyes as he laughed, he laughed endlessly, his usual chuckles or boisterous laugh missing. No, this was unfiltered, his sides hurt and he snorted sending the two of you into another fit. 

Your body ached in laughter. Your heart ached for him. You wondered if he thought of you. 

You thought of him every day.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you slowly stopped laughing. 

"You're no good Sirius Black," he could feel his heart flip as your lips said the syllables of his name "You'll do me no good." He pressed his shoulder into yours, turning to kiss the top of your head. It felt like an apology. Like an I'm sorry love, for every time he pretended not to want you, for every time he took you for granted, for letting it get this far, for not remembering or caring or loving. 

You didn't know what he actually meant with it. The door opened again, and the first thing you noticed was the frown on his face. Then the angry red of his cheeks as your boyfriend stomped closer to you. You had never noticed how Sirius was a bit taller.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," his grip on your arm was asphyxiating. You felt like your heart was plummeting down to your stomach. 

"I'm sorry I got distracted," your mumble was blue and laced with regret. Sirius considered taking the swing he'd been pondering about for months. He refrained.

"Let's just go" Jacob pulled you along, down the stairs. Not without sending Sirius a glare over his shoulder. He could hear how the boy talked about him the whole way down, shooting question after question, the why were you there with him's, and the can't even take my eyes off of you's not letting you speak. He hoped you'd look back.

You didn't. You couldn't.

You'd cry if you did.

You wondered if you were supposed to feel this way. Like the sheets were the only thing that could save you. You felt like your bed was stuck on you.

Lily was a sea of worry.

"He's outside the common room he won't stop asking Marls where you are and why you aren't coming down," she sat at the side of your bed. It had been about five days since the party. Since you laughed with Sirius. Since you concluded that you wouldn't. No, that you couldn't be happy without him. "You know how she gets, she's already exasperated."

You've been avoiding your boyfriend like the plague and your heartstrings pulled against your will. You felt bad, you thought you could just forget about Sirius, forget his looks, his touches, his kisses. You felt like the worst person on the planet. You had turned your once kind, sweet boyfriend into a jealous mess. He wasn’t the nicest anymore but you couldn’t blame him. Because it was obvious. More than you had thought. How often your thoughts strayed, how often you thought of Sirius. You knew the real reason your friends didn't exactly love him was because he wasn't Sirius. Because every person on the planet except the bastard himself could tell you were in love with Sirius Black.

Sirius didn't want you though, did he?

"Sweetie, what do you want me to tell him?" Lily in all her caring nature brushed her fingers through your hair. 

"Just tell him I'm really sick and that I'll send an owl or something Lils," you sighed "Just get rid of him before Marls says something insensitive"

Lily laughed "I'm afraid that's already happened but I'll see what I can do.”

As Lily left you thought about Sirius. About what your non-relationship was before. How you lounged around his bed for hours on weekends. Mostly naked as a baby, you would talk for hours. You’d always have sex of course and you’d hardly spend the night, but you would sneak over earlier rather than later, so 'we get the whole day love'. Sirius wouldn’t let you go until dinner was being served and you whined about hunger.

The way he’d kissed you the first time, slow and steady with his hands cupping the back of your head. you were bordering on tipsy. he said he had been wildly drunk but you knew from Remus he had only really had one or two drinks. This was one of the things that made the uneasiness start to prey on you. The way he would subtly kick you out, asking you if you wanted to go to dinner or leaving with you just for you to end up going different ways at the end of the night. The way he’d only kiss you on your lips every so often. The way it was a badly kept secret but a secret nonetheless.

You wondered what was missing from you. Was it something about the way you looked? or worse your personality? You had agonized over your appearance for months. You asked Lily about the trendy muggle workout videos. She had laughed as if you had said something silly.

At first, you thought why Sirius, it would’ve been anyone really. Insecurity was a wild beast, hard to satiate and even worse when it was something as transactional as sex with seemingly no meaning beyond pleasure. why did you decide to kiss him that night? had he kissed you first? you honestly couldn’t remember anymore. 

You stared daggers into the bracelet on your wrist. what had he given your other friends? you wondered about the price as if it would help the urge to feel wanted.

You missed Sirius Black because you were in love with him. Because he was one of your closest friends. You missed his stupid smirks and teases. The way he used to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and kiss the corner of your mouth. You missed sitting next to him at breakfast with his hand always touching your thigh in some way and the way he always saved you your favorite foods. Sneaking into the kitchens because you had missed dinner. He always refused to let you leave his bed until he decided it was enough.

But his body betrayed him until his eyes were droopy with sleep and he’d have to find some force to get up so you wouldn’t end up falling asleep together. 

You missed the way his fingers traced your naked back and the way he’d whisper secrets in French. He always refused to tell you what they meant.

You felt your cheeks dampened and wondered when you had started crying. You were tired of this, you needed everything to stop. Marlene and Lily came bursting into the room, bickering about Marlene’s temper. 

“Well he deserved it-“ Marlene grumbled and a small smile formed on your lips.

”Why is that Marls?” your pleasant smile faltered as the two girls looked at each other nervously. 

“Well it might be best if you talk to him-“

”Oh sod off Lillian she deserves to know,” Lily scowled at the name as Marlene went on “Your boyfriend's a wanker, he got all hot and flustered and had the balls to get in my face” 

You scowled, Jacob didn’t seem like the type. He was sweet and quiet most of the time. You wondered where he had been hiding this temper. You felt the guilt start to bite at your fingertips. Marlene continued,

”He kept talking about how you were probably with Sirius, he kept screaming can you believe it? He was screaming!” Marlene spoke so fast you felt like you couldn’t keep up. “He kept screaming about how you were hiding out in his room, and how you were a- well”

“I think that’s enough Marlene”

“and James well… he came out,” Marlene ignored Lily, but opted for omitting what your very upset boyfriend had rambled on about. Probably for the best, you thought.

”Oh Merlin,”

”He punched him!” You jumped from your bed, eyes wide as Marlene started to giggle but she quickly stopped as you gestured for her to explain. Lily glared at her and Marlene suppressed a smile. 

Lily turned to you, “I just think you need to talk to him directly, he’s in the hospital wing”

”Where’s James?” they both looked at each other, worry in their eyes. Marlene fidgeted with her ring.

“Slughorn took him, we’re hoping McGonagall will get involved at least,” Lily chewed on her lip nervously “It might help”

You sighed as you flopped back down to your bed. Everything was falling apart. You felt like you were falling apart. James wouldn't have gotten physical unless it was needed. He was always so relaxed, sure he always had a witty comment on the tip of his tongue, always some smart bullshit to spew. But to get physical? You couldn't help but still be grateful for him. For whatever the reason was.

Your thoughts strayed to Sirius,

You felt your eyes water again, hot with tears. You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of it all.

Tags ! (lmk if they don’t work or if u wanna be added) :

@beekeepingageissome,

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Loving Arms (7)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part VII - Lines are Drawn

|| Loving Arms Masterlist ||

A/N: And more lore is being dropped! Excited to hear what y'all think and hopefully the ending wasn't too bad 😅

The Hightower sisters sat across from each other, neither said a word or made a sound, rather waiting in silence for their Father to arrive.

(Y/N) had enjoyed the short trip that she had with her nephews and niece, but was immediately alerted by an awaiting servant that she was to meet with her Father and sister. Reluctantly, she had sent the children off with Criston to freshen up from their arduous journey. And rather than put off the inevitable had gone to the summons in her riding attire.

So now, the two sisters were in wait with Alicent sat as the picture of absolute decorum; upright, hands clasped together primly, and her face blank of all emotion. Her elder sister leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and a scowl graced her features.

"Your face will stay that way if you keep scowling" Alicent said softly.

Her sister scoffed, "Oh no. My already disfigured face will be marred even further."

"There is no need for you to be so curt with me."

"Then don't try and tell me what to do, simply because you bedded the supposed most powerful man in the realm, it does not mean you can order me around."

Alicent scowled back, "It is a wonder how our aunt dealt with you. You are so crass and impertinent in the worst of times."

"It's called having a personality Alicent, you would know what that is if you didn't always have a stick up your arse."

The screech of Alicent's chair rang through the room, as the younger Hightower stood up in indignation towards the treatment from her older sister. But the two kept quiet once they heard the thud of the doors open and their Father walked in with a thunderous expression.

"Oh thank you Father," (Y/N) drawled. "You finally grace us with your presence when you're the one that called for us to meet you."

With little warning, Otto harshly turned his elder daughter's chair around and gripped her chin in his hand tightly. His eyes narrowed and his fingers clamped down hard, the nails of his fingers nearly piercing the soft flesh of her skin. "You have the gall to act so brazenly when you have gone behind our backs and hindered all of the careful planning that we went through."

His daughter pulled at his hand to loosen his tight grip, "So you have finally taken notice."

"Did you think that I would not know? I am Hand of the King! Laws and decrees do not happen without my knowing," Otto seethed. "But it had to be my own daughter, my flesh and blood that sought out the King to completely overturn everything your sister and I have tried to accomplish."

"What has she done, Father?" Alicent asked.

"Might as well ask me what this belligerent child of mine has not done" Otto said. "But she had the cheek to have it written that all matters concerning your children Alicent, must be approved by only her!"

"Is this true?" the younger Hightower asked. "I am their mother! I know what is best for my children, not you! How dare you go behind my back and have my husband approve this!"

Not one to be scolded, Alicent's older sister pushed away from ser Otto and stared them down.

"If you knew what was best for your children, why would you agree to Aegon and Helaena being married? To treating Aemond like he couldn't accomplish things because of his disfigurement?" (Y/N) said. "I will not let those children suffer as I did, because of your actions!"

Otto laughed, "You bring up this argument time and time again. You wanted for nothing, you know not of suffering."

"Deny it all you like Father, but tell me who was the man that took one look at my recently scarred face and turned his back on me?! Who was it that brushed aside the fact that Alicent was so spoiled that she couldn't stand a moment not being fawned over that she pushed me toward the very flames that left me scarred?" she cried out. "Where was my Father then? And every instance since then, where was he?!"

"Our Father had and has a duty to the realm," Alicent argued. "You cannot expect a man of his importance to think of such petty qualms that you might have!"

(Y/N) scoffed, "Of course his favorite would come to his defense! You are just like him! Both of you talk about family, honor, and all these values that you don't truly believe."

"Our family has always been my priority with every decision that I have made, you should know this" Alicent argued. "How could you think any differently?"

"Let me ask you Alicent, how old is Aegon?"

Alicent scrunched her face, "How is that - "

"Aegon is five and ten, the same age that my son Vorian would have been if the Stranger hadn't taken him" (Y/N) wiped at her eyes. "Vorian is your nephew, whose funeral that both you and our Father neglected to attend. And it was not just him, when I dealt with the loss of my beloved husband and youngest son Doran it was Gwayne who stood at my side!"

"Surely you could not expect for us to be in two places at once!" Otto argued. "We had to stand alongside the King for the funeral of Lady Laena!"

"We are family when it is convenient, Father" his daughter laughed in disbelief. "It does not excuse that I was not even offered a letter of condolence when Vorian passed away, he was equally your grandson just as my sister's children. But I suppose since he was only fifth in line to the Dornish throne, he wasn't as valuable to you."

"This is simply your grief talking!" Otto dismissed.

"No Father, this is me talking!" she screamed. "You better damn well listen because I am a woman grown and I intend to see everything you have worked so hard to accomplish to crash and burn!"

Otto stood toe to toe with his daughter, "You would not dare!"

"Watch me!" his daughter smirked. "I learned from my Uncle Hobert well; I sat long enough, I listened, and I intend to prove the bastards in front of me wrong!"

The slap Otto gave to his eldest daughter rang in the room, leaving a visible bruise beginning to form on her face. It was followed by the hearty laugh of (Y/N) as she turned to her sister with a smile.

"Know this Alicent, when all is said and done, by the time that the children no longer need me. They will not need you either."

This enraged the young Queen as she pointed toward the door, "OUT! GET OUT!"

Her sister curtsied mockingly, "As the Queen wishes."

And left.

Leaving both her Father and sister to regret having summoned the elder Hightower daughter in the first place because they knew that something had begun and weren't sure how this would end.

[nowprettybbyimrunning]

He's a 10 But He is Making Out in Room 2

This is chapter 1 from the series "Carter's Favorite Season is Autumn"

W.C: 3,8k

Warnings: mention of blood, stitches, cursing, injury by patient.

Autumn Hawthorn’s first day at County General Hospital in Chicago did not only mark her first residency day at the ER, but also the day her own personal foundations got shaken by an external and unexpected force. Said force had a tall figure, a handsome face with the most inviting and kind brown puppy eyes she had ever seen, and a name: John Carter. She has always been a good girl who does not lie and hates anyone who does, so if you ask her about her colleague, she’ll say that meeting him is the best thing to happen to her in the last months. Well, more like the second best thing. The best one is starting her residency.

Interested in following pediatrics, her favorite doctor to work with was Doug Ross, who seemed to have taken a liking to her and let her follow him around like a lost puppy everywhere he went. 

Every day was just about the same. 

She’ll wake up before the sun has risen and get ready as quickly as possible, eager to get to the ER and start working. At the beginning, after meeting John, Autumn would get herself and Dr. Carter coffee to go and they’d drink it together at the break room in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. But that was until a few days ago Doug started getting it for her. Now she’ll drink the coffee Dr. Ross bought for her while John poured himself some from the coffee pot and eventually they were called down to tend to a patient. 

She and Carter would also have lunch together at the cafeteria and then around 3 p.m., when their eyelids began to shut, they’d meet again for another coffee to help them keep going, not a very healthy habit for doctors.

And finally, if they were lucky enough to get to go home that very same day and not have to work night shifts, John walked her to her bus stop and said goodnight with a quick hug.

She had checked her reflection on the hospital’s doors before going in, making sure her curly auburn hair looked good and her working outfit was still decent and nothing had happened to it throughout her walk from her apartment to the ER. But, what for? if as soon as she stood inside the chaos that was County General, she saw the only reason why she wanted to be presentable each day, talking to the patient that occupied most of his lately. Autumn noticed the way Carter’s lips pulled slightly up into a smirk and couldn’t miss Liz’s arm, possessively grasping his shoulder while batting her long eyelashes at him.

During the course of her first few weeks at the ER, Autumn had talked her therapist's ear off about an incredible amount of horrendous scenes she had seen and experienced, including the first patient she and Carter saw die; however, none of them stirs her feelings up as much as seeing Carter constantly and without a care in the world flirt with Liz (a patient nonetheless) at the front desk, and today was one of those days.

The brunette had made her appearance not too long ago, and ever since then kept coming back and asking for Dr. Carter specially to see her. Everyone knew what was going on, of course. Jerry even had seen them getting into John’s car once and driving away together. But no one said a thing even though it was clearly morally wrong. Autumn wondered if they had something serious going on, were they going on dates? Did Liz know the way Carter likes his coffee just like she did?

It was torture. Starting what she knew would be a long and arduous shift with the image of the man that she was slowly but surely falling for, trying to play the womanizer role out in the open was torture. It wasn’t right, Carter did not seem like that type of guy. 

Fuck doctors. Or well, student doctors for that matter. Autumn was not putting up with that shit, she made a beeline directly to the bathroom and almost ran into Carol.

“Hey kid, what’s with the face?” since the nurse’s comeback they had found a safe place in each other, and of course she immediately caught up on her cranky mood.

“The one I was born with?” Autumn joked in an attempt to get out of the confrontation, but she knew she had been cornered when Carol peeked her head around the bathroom door to spy on what had caused her to frown.

“Oh, I see… It’s a loverboy matter” the redhead couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her colleague’s (she hoped soon would be friend) comment as she washed her hands just for the sake of doing something with them.

“Don’t call him that.”

“But Pumpkin isn’t that what you want him to be?” Autumn knew she had used the lame nickname they had given to her just to try and soften her.

“Who wants who to be what?” Susan interrupted their conversation by rapidly walking into the bathroom, three were a crowd and it was starting to get suffocating.

“Autumn and Carter” claimed Carol at the same time the resident said “no one nothing”.

“Ohh I love this topic!” Dr. Lewis was also clearly in on the redhead’s little crush.

“It’s not a topic and it will never be ‘cause I’m going out there right now” Dr. Hawthorn almost sprinted out of the small room that seemed to be closing in on her with each second that passed around the topic of John Carter.

Luckily for her, neither he nor Liz were still at the front desk. Maybe she had gone home already, or he had been called to tend to a patient without her help. Either way, Autumn was glad to not have to continue to see the scene that almost made her crash out within her first three minutes at the hospital.

But that was until Dr. Benton asked her to get some files of his he had forgotten at room 2 and she immediately got down to the task. Who knocks before going into what is supposed to be an empty room at a hospital? Maybe after today she should start building on that habit, because when she abruptly opened the door what she found was far away from an empty, normal, usual, hospital room. Instead she found John and Liz mid makeout. At the interruption, Carter turned around white as a sheet, and the state he was in would’ve been a sight for sore eyes if it wasn’t for his company; disheveled hair sticking out everywhere from someone running their needy hands through it, crooked tie along with not one or two, but three unbuttoned shirt buttons; ragged breathing and lastly, plump pink lips shiny from lip gloss. Liz wasn’t far from that, she was sitting down in a bed and her skirt had rolled up slightly, the ponytail Autumn had seen her in when she got to the hospital was nowhere to be seen, now her brown hair was free and messy and her green shirt brought up the red on her cheeks from the heat in the room.

“Autumn hi” Carter greeted her “when did you get in?” The only man in the room tried to fix his hair and rubbed the palm of his right hand on his lips to get rid of the shine from Liz’s lip gloss.

“Uhm just a few minutes ago, I- sorry I just came for these” Autumn grabbed Benton’s files that were right next to Liz’s hand on the bed.

“Hi! I’m Liz” the brunette tried to introduce herself and extended her hand for the redhead to shake, Carter standing right in the middle.

“I know” Autumn ignored the girl’s gesture and turned around, leaving for the second time that day a room that made her feel like she was running out of air.

It’ll definitely be a long, very long day. 

“You have to stop doing this Liz” Carter reprimanded the girl while both of them tried to fix their clothes, no longer in the mood for whatever it was they would’ve ended up doing if Autumn had not walked in.

“What are you talking about?” and of course she was playing dumb.

“Showing up at my job and looking for me, you’ll get me into trouble” but she laughed, “I’m being serious” he knew that word had already gone around, and after what had just happened he was sure that either Dr. Benton or Dr. Greene were going to call him out. Not because he did not trust Autumn, she wouldn’t tell a soul what she had seen, but somehow everyone always knew.

“Yeah sure Carter, you’re a doctor, I had a rash, do the math”.

John finally got the tie’s knot down right, and started going for the door. He didn’t even answer her, and maybe it was for the better. They had been going at it for a few weeks, and even though everyone knew, no one really said something. But then again, no one had actually caught them. Until Autumn.

Man did he like her. Autumn, not Liz. He did like Liz, otherwise he would not have been hooking up with her. In fact, Carter even got to enjoy her company sometimes. Yet, it was the redhead, his coworker, his colleague, whatever you want to call it, who was infiltrating every waking and sleeping thought of his. And he didn’t complain. Dreaming of Autumn and looking forward to seeing her during their shifts had brought fun and excitement to his daily life, but it made it hard for him to really focus and concentrate. Plus, everyone had noticed the way Dr. Doug Ross flirted with her and tried to steal her help whenever he could. It pissed Carter off. A student doctor? He wanted to tell Doug to get a grip. After all, everyone also knew the only reason he was so invested in Autumn was to try and make Carol jealous. But who was he to do that? It would also be a bit hypocritical of him given the fact that he was sleeping with a patient.

Sadly, Carter did not see the redhead for the rest of the morning. He actually tried to hide from her, too embarrassed to confront her after what she had walked into  in room 2. It was weird, they usually chose cases together and helped each other out, so John knew his friend would be questioning him about it if they happened to cross paths.

However, his freedom from Autumn did not last long.

At around 1 p.m., Carter was filling out the chart of the last patient he had released when he heard some commotion and shouting from one of the exam rooms. Followed by a crash, and then a scream; from a voice he would pick out anywhere. He quickly ran toward it followed by Jerry and one of the security guards.

When they rushed in they found what was clearly a psych patient who had somehow been able to undo his arm’s restraints, and unfortunately got a hold of a scalpel and hit Autumn on the forehead.

Once Jerry and the officer were able to subdue the patient, Carter made his way to Autumn who was leaning against a wall in a corner of the room watching everything unfold while clutching her forehead, blood streaming down her face and into her forearm, staining her scrubs.

“Hey, hey are you okay?” Carter gently placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to direct her look at him.

Dr. Hawthorn seemed to be in shock and did not answer right away. She blinked at him, confused. But then she gazed at her hand and saw it covered in blood and her eyes opened like saucers. Autumn hadn’t noticed that the blow she took had been strong enough to draw blood. Her face contorted in pain.

“Come with me” John started and steadied her when she almost fell.

Once they were alone in one of the exam rooms, Carter sat her down at one of the beds and inspected her wound, “you’ll need stitches” he kept his voice soft and low, forgetting how embarrassed he was to see her just mere minutes ago. he gave Autumn some gauze to keep on the cut while he gathered what he needed to stitch her up and put on gloves.

“I’m sure it��s not that bad” the redhead spoke for the first time, trying to joke with him, yet John did not smile as he was already in his doctor mode. And he would not tell but this was his most important (and favorite) patient so far.

“You know someone should’ve been with you in that room, he is a psych patient it wasn’t right for you to be alone with him” he said in his most serious tone, not tending to her wound yet.

“I was just checking if he had fallen asleep or-” Carter interrupted her.

“Still, Autumn you have to be more careful with this type of patient, he could’ve gotten you good” he tried to concentrate as much as he was able to prepare the needle and thread.

“He already got me good, didn’t he? you’re about to do stitches on me” there went the jokes ignored, again.

“Whatever, just tilt your head back for me” Dr. Hawthorn obeyed him, and he carefully peeled the gauze full of blood away, their hands brushing just a tiny bit, “you’ll have a scar, at least a tiny one”.

“That’s fine, cool guys seem to dig them” she was getting tired of trying to lift up the mood with no positive results, and her eyes searched her friend’s face for some signal of what was wrong with him, but Carter was not looking at her. He was too focused on cleaning her cut first and the sudden silence in the room engulfed them.

It had been minutes when Autumn decided she couldn’t take it anymore and spoke, “Carter, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” of course he knew what she meant.

“You’re not laughing at my jokes, you’re not looking at me, you’ve basically been avoiding me since I walked in on you and Liz” she saw how his lips twitched at the mention of the brunette.

“Yeah you’re right, I’m sorry it was just embarrassing” he threaded the first stitch through and Autumn flinched, “sorry, almost done though, just one more will be enough”. She shut up for a while and just watched his face while he worked, admiring the way his jaw tensed due to his concentration; and when he was finished smiled at him “aaaand we’re done”.

“Thank you, Carter” she thanked him while he took off his gloves, a few moments of silence passed while Autumn covered her fresh stitches with new, clean gauze. “What is going on between you and her?”.

The question knocked John off his feet and he answered automatically in what was not the best tone or way, “why are you asking? I don’t ask questions about you and Doug”.

“Me and Doug? Carter what are you- wow you must be really embarrassed then” Autumn practically jumped out the bed and walked to the door to get out of that room as soon as possible. She had just taken a scalpel to the forehead, she was not going to put up with whatever John was trying to argue about. She and Doug? What was he on? Was he jealous? No, he couldn’t be.

“Oh come on everyone noticed it” that stopped Autumn in her tracks and made her turn around to look at him.

“Noticed what exactly?”

“Him flirting with you” John stated without looking at her, pretending to be too occupied tidying up what he had just used to fix her up.

“You’re insane, Carter” he had to be kidding, she let her hands rest on her hips, showing him that she was starting to get mad.

“Oh, really? I’m insane?” Autumn nodded, “then explain to me why he brings you coffee every morning”.

She rolled her eyes, “that’s ridiculous, he is just being nice and you’re mad that I stopped bringing you coffee every morning when I no longer had to get my own”.

“Yeah right, he is being nice” now he was looking at her and suddenly felt scared of how close she had gotten to him, “then why is he always asking for your help with the most dumb shit ever?”

Autumn actually laughed at that, “he is supposed to teach us stuff, he is just doing his job, John” she pronounced his name tightly, almost through her teeth.

“So now you don’t know how to take someone’s temperature? he’s not even asking for your help in peds!” Carter was starting to raise his voice, not even he recognized himself at that moment.

“It’s all practice, just because I want to specialize in pediatrics doesn’t mean I’m not going to watch other cases, you do the same!”

John scoffed, “he is your superior Autumn, do you know the trouble you could get into?” he was being insufferable, he knew it. And he also knew Autumn was not going out with Doug, yet he was still jealous.

“Jesus Christ what has gotten into you today!? Did I walk in right when she was about to suck you off at work and pissed you off?” she had gone too far.

“Wouldn’t you like that” but he always seemed to be two steps ahead of her. There was a sudden quiet in the room, the air thickening as the minutes passed, the implications of Carter’s comment too sharp for one of them to keep talking.

“Go to hell”, Autumn said and left John alone, slamming right into a chest on her way out. Someone’s chest. Dr. Ross’ chest. It seemed as if the devil himself had been listening to her’s and Carter’s discussion and decided to stir things up even more than they were.

“Autumn, there you are!” Doug smiled down at her, “I heard about what happened, I’ve been looking for you, are you alright?”, and just as she was about to answer, the door of the room she had just gotten out of opened, and out came John, scoffing at them and walking away. “What’s with him?”.

“Ignore him, he has had a weird day”, Dr. Hawthorn crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover the blood that had dripped on it, “and I’m fine, just two stitches it’s not a big of a deal”, she reciprocated his smile with a tightlipped one, and for a moment she wondered if maybe Carter was right and Doug had been trying to make her fall into his charms.

“Well, it’s not nothing, I talked to Dr. Greene and Dr. Benton and you’re free to go for the day, get some rest” when Autumn heard the news, her shoulders slumped forward in relief as she could feel a headache brewing and would love nothing more than to lay in her bed and drink some very hot tea.

“Thank you, Dr. Ross I think I need it”

Doug placed a hand on her sidearm “you need it and you deserve it, you did good today”.

“Good?” the redhead raised her eyebrows, “I got assaulted by a psych patient because I was stupid enough to check on him alone”.

Both of them laughed, “yeah well, happens to the best of us”.

“Doug”, Susan called from the end of the hallway, “they need you in trauma 2”.

“Duty calls”, he buried his hands in his jacket’s pockets, “call if you need something, though”.

“I- I- yeah sure I will”, Autumn watched him walk away until he turned around before going down the corridor.

“And Dr. Hawthorn?” she just mhmed at him, “they look good on you, the stitches”, not only did he have the guts to say that to her, but he also winked at her and Autumn swore she could feel her throat dry up.

For Carter, the rest of the day could not get more boring even if he tried for it and wanted it to. He had stitched four patients and given ibuprofen to other three that just had headaches. He hadn’t seen Autumn again since he got out of the exam room and saw her talking to Dr. Ross, not even at the break room for her usual 3 p.m. coffee, the one they drank together ever since Doug started buying her morning one for her.

Even though he knew that to do it would probably get her to talk to the nurses, he decided to ask Lydia about Autumn’s whereabouts. He approached the entry desk where he had seen her last just a few minutes ago and found her right there.

“Lydia, hi” John rested his elbows on the desk.

“Hello, Dr. Carter” the woman side-eyed him, word probably got around about him and Liz that morning.

“Have you seen Dr. Hawthorn?” He gave her his best smile, trying to get on her good side.

“She went home hours ago” finally, Lydia looked straight at him. Carter knew he was not going to like what she’ll tell him next when he saw the lady’s lips curling up into a grin, “Dr. Ross talked to Dr. Greene and Dr. Benton and got them to agree to send her home after today’s incident”, there it was, Doug Ross once again in the conversation.

“Uhm- well, if she calls and needs anything, could you please let me know?” he was jealous, he really was.

“Oh don’t worry kid, Doug’s got it covered” there was almost a singing tone in the way Lydia said that.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said, loverboy”, did she just call him loverboy?

“Lydia please erase my name from the board”, the man of the hour, Doug Ross was putting on a jacket while pointing to the whiteboard behind the desk, “I’ll be back in like an hour”.

“W- Where are you going?” Carter tried to stop himself from asking, but the need to confirm it (because he knew exactly where the man was going) was stronger than him.

“To check on Dr. Hawthorn”, Doug answered and Lydia flicked Carter’s elbow to mess with him, “do you want me to pass a message?”.

“No, no it’s fine”, John immediately left the desk, he couldn’t bear watching Dr. Ross leave the ER knowing all too well where he was going, did Autumn even know he was going to her’s? He needed a nap, a long one; and to not wake up until the redhead was back so he could make amends with her.

[lavender543]

Longing - Chapter 1

Yandere!Knight x (Evil?)Queen!Reader

Synopsis: You are a queen with a not so great reputation. He is your most trusted, and extremely stoic knight. Lets just say you don't know just how much he would do for you. (he's been secretly pining after you for awhile). Warnings: Mentions of abuse, dark themes, war and blood shed

A/N: Everett's perspective this time yayyy. And his backstory as well. Also I'm thinking this will be quite a few chapters in length, not sure how many yet.

I recommend reading the Prologue before this!

Everette’s life began with nothing. He spent his youngest years in a run-down orphanage with underpaid, abusive staff, and too many other children. Being the quiet kid he was, he always blended into the shadows, unnoticed by anyone. Though he still stood out in one aspect; he had naturally fast reflexes; they usually came in handy when fending off bullies, which happened way too much.  

When he was around eight or nine, he managed to escape the dreaded orphanage. From then on, he lived on the streets, he managed by begging for food from charitable nobles or using his reflexes to steal from people walking by.  

It was tough, but it was better than the constant beatings from other children at the orphanage or moody staff members.  

One day, he decided to try and steal from a particularly wealthy man who was buying something at a food stand in the marketplace. Unbeknownst to him, that action would change his entire future.  

He managed to get behind the man, but as soon as he reached out to take the man's money bag, he was thrown down to the ground by an unknown force. He realized that a knight hidden in the shadows nearby had spotted his mischief. 

The knight tried to grab him, but Everett was faster, quickly dodging. This game of cat and mouse continued for a while, until the knight finally managed to grab the worn-out boy. The man at the food stand had long-since seen the commotion, and he walked up to the captured boy.  

Long story short, the man Everett was trying to steal from was none other than the king, who had gone undercover to enjoy the marketplace. Impressed by the fight Everett put up with the king's best knight, the king decided to take him in, on the condition that he train as a loyal knight to the kingdom. 

Of course, Everett accepted the offer, he would be foolish to have not. Looking back, he thanked his past self, for that decision led him to you.  

You were the first person who really stood out to him during his life at the palace after being adopted. He first saw you when he was being escorted to the training grounds not long after arriving.  

You were sitting at a table outside in the royal gardens. It looked like you were getting lectured by a teacher as you sat with a teacup in hand. Feeling the boy's eyes on you, you looked over to him. And you winked. YOU WINKED. AT HIM.  

He was screaming internally, red as a tomato. He never really had friends at the orphanage, let alone interacted with many girls. Especially not as pretty as you.  

Too embarrassed to do anything, he quickly looked away and picked up his pace behind his instructor. From then on, Everett couldn't keep his eyes off of you. He waited with bated breath for even a glimpse of you. It was the highlight of his arduous day just to see you. 

It was only ever in passing, but it meant everything to the depraved boy, so when you sometimes glance back, you best know he was freaking out.  

He spent everyday training with the other knights. He hated it, it was hard, and he often found himself on the verge of tears from the exhaustion paining his entire being. He learned to get used to it, however. He excepted his fate.  

Though he still couldn't help but look for you wherever he was, even for just a tiny ounce of relief from the hell he was put through.  

It wasn’t just your beauty that drew Everett in, it was also your strength. Don’t think he doesn’t notice how hard you work every day. He sees what you’re put through all the time, like him. And yet you still smile, and laugh, and find joy in the little things. Like when you chased a butterfly in pure joy, despite the consequences you faced from your teacher afterwards.  

There was a point in the beginning, when he tried to hate you, it was your own father who put him in this situation after all. But he soon realized how helpless you also were, and he knew he could never hate you.  

You became his lifeline, the only thing that kept him going. His own little goddess. And you didn't even know it.  

So, when you talked to him in the garden that fated day, Everett felt as if he was in heaven. He tried so hard not to stutter when he replied to you, barely containing his blush. When you sat beside him, he thought that it couldn't get any better than that. And then it did.  

You gave him a name. A beautiful name, and called him brave, literally! The name meant brave. He could cry with joy. Looking back, Everett really didn't know how he managed to stay composed in that situation.  

When the two of you got caught eventually, Everett wanted to punch the guards who took you away from him.  

He didn’t see very much of you after that, and something just snapped within him. You were his one light in a world full of darkness, so when you disappeared, he had nothing. 

Nothing but a rage burning inside of him. How dare your father take you away from him. Thus began his spiral. He became a machine. All he did was fight, and train, and then fight again. He turned into a ruthless beast, at least that's what the other knights called him. But he didn't care. He just wanted it to end. He thought, maybe if he worked his way up to the very top, maybe he could see you again.  

And so, he did, years later, earning the title of Grande knight. But he didn’t get any chance to even celebrate his hard work, as he was sent off to war soon after. Apparently, this was the king's plan all along. Raise an indestructible machine to win his war for him.  

Everett was helpless against the king. And he was sent off without even seeing you one last time. 

His rage was unpalpable. He was determined to live through this war. He did not spend his whole life in hell just for it to end now. No, he would survive. And he would see you again.  

Everett was just as his reputation said, a killing machine. He earned the nickname of the bloodhound due to his unmistakable power and skill.  

In the end, he came out victorious, but not unscathed. He was forever changed. All the blood spilt, and death by his hands, was enough to drive any other man mad. He became cold, he lost his emotions in order to save himself. He was not the small, weak-minded boy he used to be.  

So, when he was told he got to return home after four long years, he didn't even smile. 

Next Part: Chapter 2

A/N: Next chapter you finally get to reunite with Everett yaayyy!

[gojosystem]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter one of ten

wc. 2.7K

prologue | part 2

The decision settled in your heart like a stone—cold, hard, and undeniable. You couldn’t stay at Jujutsu High anymore, not after everything that had happened. There was nothing left for you here but the constant reminder of Gojo’s rejection, and the emptiness it left inside you. Suguru Geto had offered a new path, one that resonated with the bitter anger building in your chest. It was risky, dangerous even, but at this point, you didn’t care. What did you have to lose?

The world outside Jujutsu High seemed vast and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the loneliness you felt within its walls. Geto’s name was whispered among the students with fear and disdain, but you saw something different now. He had the strength to break away, to challenge the system that had let him down, and if anyone could understand the pain of rejection, it was him.

The first step was to find him, which was easier said than done. Geto was no longer a visible presence in the sorcerer world. He had gone underground, building his own network of cursed users and spirits. The whispers about his whereabouts were few and far between, but you clung to the faintest rumors like lifelines, searching for any clue that would lead you to him.

Your chance finally came one evening, as you overheard two upperclassmen talking in hushed tones about a recent sighting of Geto. They mentioned a remote area where cursed energy had been felt, a place known for being a hideout for rogue sorcerers. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

You left that night, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. You knew the consequences of what you were about to do—if anyone found out, you’d be labeled a traitor, just like Geto. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting away from the pain that had consumed you and finding a new purpose.

The journey was long and arduous, taking you through unfamiliar streets and rural roads. With each step, the doubt in your mind grew louder. What if he didn’t want you? What if he turned you away, just like Gojo had? The thought of facing yet another rejection made your stomach twist in knots, but you pushed forward. You had to know. You had to try.

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, you arrived at the rumored hideout—a dilapidated building on the outskirts of na abandoned village. The air around the area was thick with cursed energy, almost suffocating. You hesitated at the threshold, fear creeping up your spine, but you steeled yourself and stepped inside.

The interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of cursed energy radiating from various objects strewn about. You could sense the presence of others, though you couldn’t see them. Shadows moved in the corners of the room, watching you, but you kept your focus straight ahead.

And then, you saw him.

Suguru Geto stood at the far end of the room, his back turned to you as he spoke quietly with one of his followers. Even from this distance, his presence was commanding, the air around him heavy with power. There was something about him that felt both intimidating and strangely familiar, as if you were looking at the reflection of everything you had been feeling—the bitterness, the anger, the sense of abandonment.

He turned around slowly, his gaze landing on you with a piercing intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. His dark eyes seemed to see right through you, reading every thought and emotion as if they were laid bare before him. For a moment, you wondered if you had made a mistake—if this had been a foolish, reckless decision.

But you had come too far to turn back now.

“What do we have here?” Geto’s voice was smooth and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. He studied you, his expression unreadable. “You’re not one of mine.”

You swallowed, your throat dry, and forced yourself to speak. “I came to find you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’ve been studying at Jujutsu High, but I can’t stay there anymore. I’ve seen… I’ve read about what you believe in. And I… I want to join you.”

There was a flicker of amusement in Geto’s eyes as he raised na eyebrow. “You want to join me?” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “And what exactly do you think you have to offer?”

Your heart sank at his words. You knew you were nothing compared to the powerful sorcerers that surrounded him. You were just a student, someone who had been cast aside by the very person you had admired most. But you also knew that your desire to serve his cause, to belong somewhere, burned stronger than anything else.

“I don’t have much,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m not the strongest sorcerer, and I don’t have any followers. But I understand how it feels to be abandoned, to be rejected by the world. I’m ready to serve your purpose, whatever it takes.”

For a long moment, Geto said nothing, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence was suffocating, each second stretching into eternity. You stood there, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for his judgment. In that moment, it felt as if your entire life hung in the balance. If he accepted you, you would have a new purpose, a new place to belong. But if he rejected you…

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, Geto’s expression softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You’re eager,” he said quietly. “That much is clear. But eagerness alone isn’t enough. My cause isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s dangerous, and it requires a level of conviction that few possess.”

You nodded quickly, desperation creeping into your voice. “I understand. I’ll prove myself, if you give me the chance.”

Geto regarded you for another long moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a slight nod, he turned away from you, signaling the conversation was over. “Very well,” he said. “If you want to join me, go back to Jujutsu High. Pack your things. Leave everything behind. Once you’ve done that, come back. If you’re serious, I’ll know.”

Your heart leapt in your chest at his words—he was giving you a chance. It wasn’t a full acceptance, not yet, but it was something. You bowed your head quickly in gratitude before turning to leave.

As you stepped out of the hideout and into the cool night air, your mind raced with a mixture of excitement and fear. You had taken the first step toward a new life, toward leaving behind everything that had hurt you.

Now all that was left was to return to Jujutsu High, pack your things, and leave for good. There was no turning back now.

The night was unnervingly quiet as you made your way back to Jujutsu High, the soft rustling of leaves the only sound accompanying you. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the ground. Your mind buzzed with the events that had just unfolded—Geto had accepted you, even if it was only tentative. The prospect of belonging to something, of having a purpose again, gave you a strange sense of comfort, but it was wrapped in na unsettling realization.

To fully embrace this new path, you had to leave everything behind.

As you approached the school grounds, a wave of nostalgia hit you. The familiar hallways, the training grounds, even the library where you had spent so many hours—all of it felt like a distant memory, as if you were already na outsider looking in. These places had once held significance, but now they were nothing more than relics of a past life. You had made up your mind; you would abandon all of it for a chance at something more—something that could give meaning to the ache you carried inside.

The dormitory was dark and still when you returned to your room. Your belongings were strewn about, a quiet reminder of the life you had lived here. You hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway and letting your gaze drift over the small space that had been your home for so long. It was strange how quickly it all felt irrelevant.

With a deep breath, you began packing your things. You moved with mechanical precision, folding clothes and stuffing them into your bag, taking only what you absolutely needed. As your hands grazed over small personal items, you realized how little they meant now. There was no point in holding onto these things—mementos of a life you no longer wanted to be part of. A gift from a classmate, a framed photo of your team during a mission, a charm you had once carried for protection—they all seemed to mock you now.

Your hand hovered over the chocolates you had made for Gojo, the same ones he had so casually rejected weeks ago. They had been sitting untouched for so long, the once carefully crafted gift now rotting and forgotten. A bitter taste filled your mouth as you stared at the box, the last remnant of your foolish hopes - now laying in your trashcan.

As you zipped up your bag, you felt a strange sense of liberation. You were finally doing it—leaving behind the person you had been, the person who had been too afraid to act, too afraid to take control of her own fate. You were stepping into a new future, one where you could be strong, where your pain had a purpose. Suguru Geto had shown you that.

You slung the bag over your shoulder, taking one last look at the room. It felt distant already, like a ghost of a life you once knew. Without hesitation, you turned and left, walking silently through the darkened halls of Jujutsu High. Every step away from the dorms felt like shedding na old skin, leaving behind the memories and emotions that had weighed you down for so long.

Your feet moved automatically, each step taking you further from Jujutsu High and further from Gojo, you didn’t dare look back, afraid that if you did, you might falter, might hesitate. You had made your choice. You had committed to this path, and there was no turning back now.

The night air was cold against your skin, and with every step, the familiar halls and grounds of Jujutsu High faded into the distance. There was na ache in your chest, a deep, gnawing pain that threatened to overwhelm you, but you forced it down, telling yourself that this was the right choice. That Geto would understand, that his ideals would give you the strength you needed to find purpose.

By the time you reached the outskirts of the town, the sky had started to lighten, a soft glow spreading across the horizon as dawn approached. You kept your head down, avoiding the few early risers who were beginning their day. No one paid you any attention. To them, you were just another traveler, just another person passing through.

Your destination was clear—the same dilapidated building you had found before, where Geto’s presence had been strongest. The cursed energy in the area was unmistakable, and the faint pulse of it called to you like a beacon, guiding you back to him.

As you walked, the reality of what you were about to do began to settle in. You were leaving everything—your friends, your teachers, your life as a jujutsu sorcerer behind. The people you had trained with, the ones who had fought alongside you, they would all consider you a traitor. But for some reason, that didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You were tired of being invisible, of feeling like na outsider in your own life. With Geto, maybe you would finally belong somewhere.

After hours of walking, you finally reached the hideout once again. The building loomed before you, dark and foreboding, just as it had before. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there the first time, as if the entire area was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

This time, the space felt different. The shadows seemed heavier, and the cursed energy more oppressive. You could sense other presences here—Geto’s followers, cursed spirits lurking just out of sight, their eyes on you, watching, waiting. But you didn’t waver. You had already made your decision.

As you ventured deeper into the building, you found him in the same spot as before, standing with his back to you, his long dark hair spilling over his shoulders. He was speaking with one of his followers in a low voice, but the moment you entered the room, his attention shifted. Without turning around, he acknowledged your presence with a quiet, “You came back.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine—not out of fear, but because of the power it carried, the certainty in his words. It was so unlike the doubt you had felt at Jujutsu High. Here, in Geto’s world, there was no room for second-guessing. Everything he said, everything he believed, had a purpose. You wanted to be part of that.

“I did,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nervousness you felt. “I left everything behind, just like you said.”

Geto finally turned to face you, his eyes sharp and assessing. He looked you over, taking in the sight of you with your bag slung over your shoulder, your expression determined despite the fear you tried to hide. A slow, almost approving smile curled at the corner of his lips.

“And why, exactly, should I take you in?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with a challenge. “What can you offer me that my other followers can’t?”

You had expected this question, but it didn’t make answering it any easier. You had thought about this moment the entire way back, rehearsing what you would say, but now that you stood in front of him, words failed you. What could you offer? You weren’t the strongest sorcerer, you weren’t experienced in battle. All you had was your conviction, your desire to follow him.

“I—I’m not the strongest,” you admitted, your voice faltering for just a moment before you regained your composure. “But I’m ready to dedicate myself to your cause. I’ve seen how the world works, how it doesn’t care about people like us. I want to change that, to be part of something greater.”

Geto’s eyes remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He studied you for what felt like na eternity, and you could feel the weight of his judgment pressing down on you. Then, finally, he spoke again, his voice softer, but no less commanding.

“Conviction is important,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But dedication without strength is a liability.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Geto raised a hand to silence you. “Still, you’ve come this far, and I can see that you’re serious. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Relief flooded through you, though it was quickly tempered by the realization of what that might entail. Geto wasn’t someone who handed out second chances easily. Whatever he asked of you, it wouldn’t be simple.

“You’ll stay here, for now,” he continued, gesturing to the room around you. “Train with my followers, learn from them. When the time comes, we’ll see if you’re truly ready to stand by my side.”

You nodded, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. This was what you had wanted—a chance, a purpose, something to fight for. And now, Geto had given it to you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, bowing your head in gratitude.

Before you could fully process it, a voice rang out from the entrance of the hideout, sharp and commanding.

“So, this is where you ran off to.”

Your heart froze in your chest.

Satoru Gojo stood at the threshold, his blindfold gone, revealing his piercing blue eyes that glowed with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper, more intense.

He had found you.

notes: thank you for reading the first chapter! if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[autumnsvixen]

Damaged - part 2

previous || next (coming soon)

Azriel x f! reader

After a long and arduous recovery, you are finally able to feel safe in the House of Wind. You can't help but feeling as if something, or someone, is missing.

Word Count: 2777

Warnings: Reader healing from wounds, some mentions of past trauma (including blood, violence, and abuse), Rhys being nice (?)

A/N: Holy shit, thank you all for the love on part 1. I was not expecting that AT ALL, but I’m really glad you’re all enjoying it! This is, sadly, another part without much Az, but he’s coming (he's WHAT), I promise 😊

masterlist || request guidelines

The past week was a blur of darkness and pain. Your only real memories consisted of hazy visions of winged males, swirling shadows, and an elderly female fae with kind brown eyes.

As your eyes drifted open, you were blinded by the brightness flowing into the room from the opened curtains. The elder fae you had seen throughout your recovery hissed at someone else in the room, “Morrigan, close that curtain. You’ll give the poor girl a headache.”

Your blurry vision began to clear as the panging in your head became apparent. The pain seemingly spread throughout your body as you fully woke. A groan escaped you as you tried to shift yourself up to better observe the unfamiliar room you found yourself in, only to be gently pushed down by the same female that had just spoken.

“Don’t try to sit up. You’ve recovered a lot, but you still need rest.” Her voice was kind but strict, leaving no room for debate.

When you spoke, your voice came out rough, throat feeling like ash, “where am I?”

Another voice filled your ears as a beautiful female with golden hair moved into your vision, “you’re safe. Cassian and Rhys got you to the House of Wind just in time.” She sounded like honey; soft and sweet.

Her words registered with you, “Rhys, as in high lord Rhysand?” You again tried to sit up in the bed, shocked that Cassian had brought you to the home of the high lord.

The younger fae, who you had figured out was the Morrigan, laughed as the other huffed at you, but she didn’t push you back down. You leaned your back against the headboard, the wood cold against your wings.

“Don’t say it like he’s some god, he’ll get even more of an ego. But yes, the high lord. He winnowed you from just outside of Ironcrest.”

The older female spoke next, “and you’re lucky he did. If you had gotten here any later…” She shook her head, dismissing the thought.

Your heart clenched at the thought that you had almost died.

The two females in the room seemed to notice your thoughts as your eyes glazed over, your last conscious memories replaying in your mind. Morrigan gently grasped your hand, “you’re safe now. I promise those males won’t ever lay a hand on you again.”

A tear fell from your eye as you turned your head to look at her, “I just wanted to be able to defend myself.”

“Those cowards cornered you. It was three against one. Even if you had been training with Cas for years, they would still have had an advantage.” Anger and disgust laced her voice, and the glint in your eyes told you that these were not the first cowardly males she had encountered.

You nodded at her words, but no response escaped you. You couldn’t shake the thought that if you had just been stronger, you could have protected yourself. Or if you had just obeyed your brother’s wishes, you wouldn’t even be in this situation.

Morrigan seemed to sense your reluctance to accept her words as truth, so she turned to the other female in the room. “Madja, do you think it would be alright for her to eat something?”

The elderly fae nodded, swiftly leaving the room. Morrigan sat on the bed next to you, careful not to move your injured body, “Cassian told me your name is Y/N, right?”

You nodded, and she continued, “You can call me Mor. Cassian didn’t tell me much about what happened before the attack, but I promise you that the people here will never treat you the way you were treated back in the camp.”

You didn’t have the words to respond. Part of you hoped what she was saying was true, but another part of you knew that your brother, despite his faults, had always looked out for you. Until now, that is.

“If you want to train once you’re all healed, Cassian and I can help you. If you want to go back to Ironcrest, that is your choice, though one I would hate for you to make.”

You furrowed your brows at her, “You would let me stay? You don’t even know me.”

She smiled softly at you, “let’s just say our high lord has a soft spot for those who have experienced the worst this world has to offer. And Cas has told us enough about you for all of us to trust you.”

Gently, you squeezed her hand, “did he tell you I was the most difficult fae he’s ever had to train?”

Mor laughed, the sound falling gracefully onto your ears and drawing a small smile to your lips. “He told us you had the balance of a newborn fawn, but that you were determined in your training.”

“Do you really think he’d want to train me even after seeing how utterly defenseless I was against those males?” You asked softly, the smile falling from your face.

She looked at you with a kindness you rarely saw, “I’ll say it until your ears bleed, those males are cowards, and it took three of them to face you. You weren’t defenseless and you are not hopeless, you just need training and some more confidence. Cassian would be lucky to have you as a trainee.”

You nodded, “okay then. I’d like to stay here and train.”

Suddenly, Madja entered the room, “not until you are fully healed. You will stay here and rest until I say.” She placed a tray holding bowl of soup and a glass of water on the table next to your bed. “I swear, all you Illyrians are the same, never wanting to heal, always wanting to train,” she mumbled.

Madja didn’t clear you to leave the bed for another three days. In that time, Cassian, Rhysand, and Mor all took turns keeping you company. The first time you had met the high lord, you had clumsily tried to bow from your place in the bed, which more so looked like you trying to fold yourself in half. Of course, with the aching pain in your chest and stomach, this was accompanied by a grimace, which was not the face you had wanted to greet your high lord with. He had chuckled, waving you off with a “please, you’re a guest in my home, I don’t need the theatrics.”

You had quickly developed friendship with each of them, but none as close as Cassian. Perhaps because he was the fae you were most familiar with, or you just associated him with the feeling of safety.

You had thought of asking Cassian about the shadow-made man, but something in your gut stopped you from doing so. Perhaps you had just imagined him, and they would think you were mad if you brought him up.

By the time you were finally allowed to train, almost 2 weeks after waking up, you had begun to feel at home in the House of Wind. You’d had meals with Rhys, Cassian, Mor, and Amren, a member of the household who seemed much older than a high fae should be. Mor had promised once you were at full health, she and Cassian would show you the city and take you shopping, to which Cassian huffed at.

You started to feel at peace.

That was until Cassian woke you up before dawn one day, demanding you change into training clothes that Mor had provided you and meet him in the training arena on top of the house. Though tired, you eagerly complied, excited to start back the training you had gotten so little of back at camp.

When you got to the arena, you marveled at the extensive sand pit and the weapons that hung on racks around it. Cassian laughed at your amusement, “normally Az and I spar with just our hands, but sometimes we practice with the weapons, either on our own or with each other.”

“Az?” You questioned.

Cas’s eyes went wide with realization, “that’s right, you weren’t exactly… conscious when he was here. Azriel is my brother,” he grinned, thinking of the male. “He’s also our court’s spymaster, so he comes and goes pretty frequently. He’s off on a mission to who knows where right now, but he should be back by the end of the week. He keeps to himself, so you probably won’t see much of him when he is here, but once you get to know him, he’s a good guy.”

You nod, wondering if this was the shadow man you had believed your mind made up. But Cassian seemed so bright, you doubted his brother would be covered in such darkness. “Well, I look forward to meeting him.”

Your return to training was slow, but every morning you went up to the arena, Cas pushed you a little harder. By the end of your first week of training, you felt back to the way you were before you’d been attacked at camp.

Everyone was impressed by your progress, including yourself. You had expected to be haunted by the memories of those males, but you instead let it push you to train harder, wanting to ensure you were never in that situation again.

“Would you accompany out to the city today? I have a few things I’d like to pick up and I want to show you around.” Rhys asked you while you were clearing the table from breakfast. “And, no offense, I think it’s time you pick out your own clothes instead of whatever Mor decides to gift you.”

You chuckled, looking down at the dress the female had given you that day. It was tighter than you were used to a dress being, and much more revealing than anything you’d worn in the camps. Mor had called it modest by her standards.

With a bright smile at the high fae, you said, “I would love to.”

The city of Velaris, Rhys informed you, was his closest kept secret, and you could immediately tell why. The bright colors of the Rainbow and the display of culture throughout the city instantly had your heart pounding with excitement. This was a safe haven in the night court, and you felt incredibly lucky that Rhysand had trusted you enough to bring you here.

He had stopped by a few shops, buying himself a new jacket that seemed to absorb darkness and a set of earrings that he intended to gift to Amren as a Solstice present. As you walked, he told you about the different shops in the city and stories of its inhabitants.

Your eyes went wide as he opened the door to a bakery, the smell of sugary bread filling your nostrils. Pastries you had never heard of lined the shelves of a glass case. He bought you a sweet bun filled with lemon-flavored icing, and you swore it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

“I forgot how bland the food is at the markets back in the camps. Now that you’re in Velaris, I’ll make sure you get to experience the best food we have to offer.” He spoke as you gobbled up the sugary goodness.

You swallowed before speaking, “I really don’t know how I can ever repay your kindness, Rhysand. Seriously.”

He waved you off, “keep training and gathering your strength, and I’m sure I can find you a place in my circle. But even if you never work for me, I will continue to spoil you with the goodness of this city. You deserve it.”

Happy tears filled your eyes as he spoke. You had never experienced such care before arriving to the House of Wind, and now it all felt overwhelming. “I don’t have words to explain how honored I am to be here. One day, I will find a way to repay your kindness.”

He smirked playfully, “well, until you do, I’m going to continue to spoil you. I was thinking we could visit the clothes shops in the palace of thread and jewels.”

By the time you had finished shopping, you and Rhys were surrounded by bags filled with clothes and shoes. You insisted you would pay him back, but he simply waved off the expense as a “welcome present.”

The sky was dark as you exited the last shop, and your eyes widened as you spotted the lights lining the river that ran through the city. The high lord seemed to take notice of your amazement, as if he had expected it. “It’s even better from above,” he said quietly. With a wave of his hands, the bags in your arms disappeared.

You were shocked at the easy display of magic, until you realized what he had implied. You looked at him sadly, “I can’t- my wings-“

“I’ll carry you,” he cut you off. You nodded, thankful he understood. He picked you up, strong arms beneath your back and knees, before shooting off into the sky. You wrapped your own arms tightly around his neck as you screeched, the sudden weightlessness of flying catching you off guard.

There was something about being in the air that felt so natural. You knew it was due to your heritage, as Illyrians belonged in the sky, but you had never had the opportunity to actually experience it until now.

And Rhys was right, the city was somehow more beautiful from up here. The lights reflected off the Sidra, the waves making them appear to dance. The city squares seemed alive with lights and people. It was all breathtaking.

Rhys carried you through the air, dipping low before shooting high, as if playing a game of tag with the wind. You laughed as it blew your hair in all different directions. You stayed in the air for almost an hour, though you felt as if you could’ve stayed for years, before you landed on a balcony back in the House of Wind.

“Thank you for that, truly.” You spoke to him, removing your arms from his neck as your feet touched the ground.

He smiled at you, “any time.”

As you both walked into the seating room you had landed outside of, your breath is halted in your throat at the site of a male that had haunted your dreams since you arrived at the house.

Hazel eyes studied you for a moment before moving over to the male standing next to you. “Rhys, we need to talk.”

Rhys smirked, prancing to a nearby bar cart and pouring himself a glass of fae wine, “nice to see you too, brother. Glad you’re home safe.”

The stunning male’s expression remained neutral as he stared at Rhysand, unamused at his antics. You studied the angled bones of his cheeks and jaw, the shadows that swirled around his shoulders and neck. This was the man you had thought you imagined. And now that you had seen him, you were even more interested in learning more about him.

“Rhys.” His tone was stern. His voice pulled goosebumps to your skin, the deepness fitting his dark and shadowy appearance.

The high lord gave you a pitiful smile, “your bags are in your room, y/n, if you’d like to go admire your new belongings. Azriel and I need to discuss some things.”

You nodded, understanding his words for the dismissal they were. In that moment you also realized that this was the Azriel that Cassian had spoken to you so highly about. You remembered his words, “he keeps to himself… but once you get to know him, he’s a good guy.”

You hoped you could find out for yourself.

As you made your way up the stairs, you couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful stranger’s face, the toned body underneath his Illyrian leathers, and the shadows that seemed to keep him constant company.

You would definitely try to find out for yourself.

[writingdevil]

Hiii, I have no idea if you're still taking requests but can you write Hunted going feral after feeling threatened and Cold or Cheated has to calm him down?

(Oooh I love that! I was originally going to pick Cheated because I've already done something similar between just Hunted and Cold, but I decided to put all three of them together! Enjoy!)

(Warning-Blood, violence!)

One of the benefits of having an awful sleep schedule, was that you could immediately be up and ready to take care of any problems that went on in the middle of the night.

Cheated wasn't sure how much of a benefit it was for him of all people, but it didn't matter much.

What did matter was the crash and animalistic sound he heard suddenly in the middle of the night, and then his body was already jumping out of bed before his brain could even process anything.

He grunted as he stumbled to the door, ignoring the pain thrumming through his body. He threw open the door and ran to where the sound had come from, which had gotten louder and more aggressive the closer Cheated got.

It sounded like an animal had somehow gotten into the house. Was it a fox? A wolf?

Shit- Cheated just realised that he may not be able to take care of this situation, but he's already in this mess now, so he has to see it through now!

He burst into the living room, which was a mess. Pillows and blankets thrown everywhere, the armchair had been knocked onto its side, and the couch had multiple jagged claw marks tearing it open.

Cheated heard a grunt and the sound of a body moving on the other side of the couch, and even though Cheated felt every feather bristling and standing on edge, he still rushed over across the room.

The first thing he saw was Cold, panting and struggling to sit up properly- and the second thing he saw was blood.

"Are you okay?! What the fuck happened?" Cheated fearfully whispered, crouching down to help Cold sit up, being mindful of his injury, a cut on his shoulder, and the darkness of the night blended the blood with his feathers eerily well.

Cold's face showed only slight discomfort as he sat up, holding an arm to his bleeding shoulder and mumbling, "Not again."

"What? Cold, what happened?" Cheated hissed, and Cold lifted his head, as if only finally realising that Cheated was there. He still wore his blank, neutral expression, but now there was a hint of exhaustion in his features, as if he had done some big, arduous task.

"Cold?" Cheated whispered again, and then Cold didn't look at him, but at something behind him, and went, "Oh, there you are."

Cheated barely had time to blink before something tackled him from behind.

Cold crawled out of the way as Cheated slammed into the floor, feeling claws digging into his skin, trying to pull his arms behind him.

Cheated grunted and attempted to elbow his attacker, but a low and aggressive growl from above made a bolt of fear go through his heart. He felt one foot on his lower back, pinning Cheated in place, no matter how much he thrashed and tried to break free.

"Cold! Fucking-help!"

Cheated tried to look over his shoulder to see his attacker, but at that moment, there was the sound of a tired sigh, and then Cheated's attacker was suddenly flung off of him with a thump as they hit the ground.

Cheated immediately scrambled to his feet, shaking as he whirled around, briefly noticing the way Cold rubbed his knuckles with his hand, and then his eyes finally landed on their intruder.

It was hard to see through the darkness and the feathers obscuring them, but Cheated would instantly recognise a member of his flock.

"Hunted?"

The bird in question just growled, crouched low and wings bared, and Cheated could feel the intensity of his glare on him. Hunted's claws made holes in the wooden floor, and his whole body was trembling, which only concerned Cheated more.

Hunted thankfully didn't pounce on him again, content to just growl and stare them down.

"What happened to him?" Cheated whispered to Cold, too afraid of setting Hunted off to ask him directly. He refused to look away from Hunted as Cold casually replied, "Well, I punched him, so I doubt he's too happy about that."

"You punched Hunted?!"

"It got him off you, didn't it?"

Cheated sighed, never taking his eyes off the wild and frantic look that was possessing Hunted. It was like he didn't even recognise them.

Cheated sighed, feeling more helpless by the second. "Why is he acting like this?" he asked, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Cold stand up fully, swaying for a moment, and then he said, "I think he's feeling threatened right now, so I'd say he's working on just pure instinct and survival."

Cheated studied Hunted closely, squinting in the darkness so that he could spot how cloudy Hunted's eyes looked, as if he wasn't all there in the moment. Was he even aware of who they were right now?

"What happened, buddy?" Cheated softly asked him, and Hunted flinched, but then just snarled at them in warning.

He saw Cold take a step forward, and then Hunted's lips peeled back as he snarled and flashed his fangs at him, the floorboards creaking as Hunted's claws dug deeper into them.

It hit Cheated.

"It was you," Cheated hissed, trying not to let the anger inside him at Cold win out, unless he wanted to do something stupid and have Hunted rip him to shreds. "You set him off."

He could feel the way Cold was rolling his eyes. "It wasn't my intention to scare him-this time."

"What the hell did you do?!'

"I couldn't sleep, so I came here. How was I supposed to know that he was coming back from a late night patrol?"

Oof. Cheated could imagine it now. Coming home after making sure that there was no danger outside the house, nerves still on edge, only to come in and be faced with a tall, silent menace standing in the middle of the room in complete darkness. No wonder Hunted flipped and attacked them.

Well, there was nothing to do now but calm him down.

"Hunted," Cheated softly said, and Hunted flinched, but still glared daggers at Cold. "Hunted, it's me, Cheated. Do you remember who I am?"

Hunted's eyes remained on Cold.

Cheated sighed harshly, feeling brave enough to turn and look up at Cold. "It's you he's afraid of, so you have to show him that you're not a threat."

"He just needs to stop letting this silly misunderstanding send him into a panic-"

"Cold!" Cheated hissed through gritted teeth, which finally made Cold look down at him. Cheated wanted to believe that there was something hidden within Cold's emotionless eyes, maybe guilt or fear, but he couldn't exactly focus on that right now, so he just snapped at him, "You've just frightened him and punched him in the face! He's not gonna calm down unless you make him not afraid of you!"

Cold looked at him for a few seconds, tilting his head curiously, before he sighed in defeat.

He slowly lifted his hands up in surrender, making sure to look Hunted in the eyes as he did so. Cheated watched as Hunted's growl became louder and louder as Cold moved, pressing himself against the wall behind him, wings flapping in warning.

Cold didn't say anything as he slowly started to kneel next to Cheated, keeping his movements relaxed and slow as to not scare Hunted further.

Cold's knees softly hit the floor, and then he sighed, letting the frosty air float towards Hunted, who blinked, recognition flashing in his eyes for a moment, before his face twisted into a sneer again.

"Hunted," Cold began, "it's me, Cold, and Cheated is here as well. It is Cold and Cheated. We aren't enemies or predators here to attack the flock. We are part of the flock."

Hunted's growls started to become quieter, so Cheated took that as a sign that this was working.

"You're here, in our house, safe," Cold continued, voice still empty and lacking feeling, but just the slow way he was delivering his words, was enough for even Cheated to sense the calming effect it must be having on Hunted.

"I am-" Cold paused, looking down at the floor for a second, and then his gaze landed on the cut on his shoulder, and he sighed again, this time more heavily.

"I'm sorry, Hunted, for scaring you." Hunted's whole body stopped shaking in that moment, that one sentence seeming to pierce through Hunted's fear, and Cheated couldn't blame him. Cold wasn't one to be apologetic about anything.

"I'm sorry that you felt in danger because of me. I never wish to make you feel like you are being truly hunted down." Cold shrugged. "I like making you jump sometimes, but not to push you over the edge. That's no fun, and neither is this."

Cheated watched as Hunted's body slowly relaxed at Cold's words, and even his wings lowered back down.

Cold squirmed on the spot and avoided Hunted's stare, and Cheated's not sure if he ever saw Cold look uncomfortable before.

"Again, I'm sorry," Cold repeated, and then they both waited for Hunted's next move. He had completely stopped shaking now, but Cheated wasn't convinced that he still wasn't afraid right now.

But then he blinked- and suddenly Hunted pounced on Cold.

"Shit shit shit!" Cheated hissed, scrambling to his feet to help Cold, who was flat on his back with Hunted looming above him, his face sticking into Cold's neck.

Was he going to rip Cold's throat out? Was he going to actually kill one of their own-

But when Cheated rushed over to them, his panic was immediately replaced with confusion, then relief- as he realised that Hunted was nuzzling Cold.

"Sorry for hurting you, sorry for attacking you," Hunted was mumbling, switching between rubbing his face against Cold's neck, and licking the cut that he had made with his tongue.

Cold was just staring up at the ceiling with a bored look on his face, but Cheated smiled when he saw that Cold was actually rubbing Hunted's back for comfort.

Cheated sighed, and kneeled down next to them, wrapping the two of them up into a tight hug. Hunted brushed his cheek against Cheated's, and Cold didn't move.

It didn't matter, because at least everyone was back on the same page again. At least everyone was safe this time.

"I think that's enough trouble for one night," Cheated mumbled, and he felt Cold hum in agreement. "How about we clean up and head back to bed together?"

They both agreed, and within ten minutes, Cheated was back in his bed, but this time with Hunted between himself and Cold, snuggling the smaller voice to sleep, letting him know that he was safe and loved again.

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.1 (Dahlia) a2 d5

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 5,368

Notes: My friend Tiny said this was very Wattpad era of me, so I'm so sorry that I'm cringe, guys. She also said she loved it and I am also p satisfied w it, so. Celebrations! It's also fucking long for me, like damn. Chill. I do have some disclaimers abt this tho. 1) I have never been to a k-pop concert, I am doing my best working off of what videos, vlogs, blogs, and Quora and Reddit answers for this. I'm very sorry if it's horribly inaccurate. Also it's idealized so it'd gonna be inaccurate 2) Covid never happened in this universe! Send-offs for everyone!

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, sort of dissociating? ish?

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part

“Yes, Ma, I promise I’m doing just fine,” You grunt into your phone, tucking the device between your cheek and shoulder as you juggle your groceries and try to dig out your keys, “No one has tried to mug me, I’m eating well, and the job is the same as the last time you called.”

You manage to both open your door and kick it shut as your mother replies, “I just worry about you dear. You’re so far away from us now, what if you need help?”

You waddle to your kitchen counter to offload your burdens, stretching your cramping fingers out as you go to properly hold your phone again.

“I know, Ma, but I’m sure I’ll make some friends with time and then they can help me out.” you finally reply with a sigh. You begin the arduous task of actually putting your groceries away, resigned to the fate of a functional adult.

You hear your sister bark out a laugh in the background. It’s possibly about hearing ‘you’ and ‘friends’ in the same sentence (Which, ouch. True, but ouch). You magnanimously ignore her.

“Honey, I love you, but it’s been almost a year. You have yet to tell me about a single friend.” Your Mom retorts. Again, ouch.

“I have Taylor!” You defend, slamming your fridge shut with a pout.

“Your roommate doesn’t count!” Your little sister taunts from the background. You hear your mother shush her but her agreement is implied when she doesn’t correct the little gremlin.

“He so does!” You argue, “We hang out in contexts that are not work or school, we eat meals together, and we’re even going to a concert this weekend! That’s friends! That’s best friends, even.” You sound a bit pathetic even to yourself, but the day your sister wins over you is the day you die.

“That’s a friendly roommate,” Is your sister’s amused response, “I bet you don’t even know what his favorite color is.” Your silence is answer enough, and she cracks up, laughing so hard that you hear a muted thump as she falls off of whatever furniture she’d been occupying.

Guess you’re dying today.

Your mother changes the subject to the goings-on of your hometown while your sister asphyxiates in the background. You’ve only been away for a little under a year now, but as you listen to her talk about which of your littlest cousins are starting school and which of your relatives are causing drama, you realize that it’s already been a little under a year.

You flop onto your couch as your mom babbles away, holding back an existential crisis.

Your fingers begin tracing the long-since memorized lines of your soulmark over your clothes as you ponder the passing of time, fully zoned out of your mother’s gossip. Your sister seems to catch on to your long silence, interrupting you mother to pester you into giving her more material to taunt you over.

“What concert are you going to, anyway?” She questions.

“Oh, it’s a K-Pop group called Stray Kids,” You tell her. You can practically feel her interest shrivel up and die as soon as you say K-Pop, bless her elitist, snobby, little heart. “Taylor likes them a lot, and his boyfriend dumped him last month, so I got some good tickets to cheer him up.”

Your mother coos at you briefly before your sister overtakes the conversation again, “Are they even good?” You can hear the sneer in her voice as she falls into Music Snob (tm) mode, so you roll your eyes when you reply.

“They’re fun to dance to when I’m doing chores, so that’s good enough for me.”

“You can’t even understand them.” She complains.

“I can, actually.” You inform her primly, “My language elective was Korean. I took the whole course.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

“Tell that to my sweet, sweet, degree, kiddo.” It’s finally your turn to taunt.

“Whatever, you’re not even going with a friend, just your roommate. How fun could it be?” She pouts back.

“I told you, we are friends! Best friends, even!”

“You still don’t know his favorite color.” She retorts smugly.

“I know his favorite flower, that’s gotta count for something!” Your mother hums in agreement, and you picture her watching your bickering like a tennis match, assigning points in her head.

“It doesn’t, because you know everyone’s favorite flower! You know the mail guy’s favorite flower! It’s like an obsession.” You picture your sister rolling her eyes at you, exasperation pouring off of her. The image makes you grin as you reply.

“Only if it’s still Jim. I haven’t been around to ask anyone new.” You point out. Reasonably, you think, but for some reason your sister lets out a loud groan of annoyance and you hear her exaggerated stomps ass she removes herself from your presence. Your mother lets out an amused little huff and you imagine you’ve won the tennis match in her head.

No death for you today. Score!

Your mom yaps with you for a little longer, before finally bidding you farewell, telling you that you should call more often (like you don’t chat literally every Friday afternoon like clockwork), tell your dad to come home soon if you happen to call him (you won’t. He won’t either), and tell her all about how the concert goes next week. You promise to do that one easily.

When she hangs up, you’re left with the ringing silence of an empty apartment. Moving to LA has been a quieter experience than you’re used to in general, for many reasons. Sure, the city itself is louder than your little suburb by miles, but life has been... More peaceful, since. Quieter.

It still makes you uneasy, even 10 months later.

You get up from the couch and drift off to your room like a ghost, opening Spotify on your way. The opening notes of Ruth B’s Lost Boy and a something nauseous swirling in your gut is all that follows you.

On concert morning, you’re woken up bright and early by your air-horn of a roommate slamming your door open.

“Concert daaaaaaaaay~” He trills at you from the doorway. You don’t even open your eyes when you roll over and throw a pillow at him in protest. A soft ‘oof’ tells you that you hit your mark for once. Nice.

“Nice shot!” Taylor cheers, “But now I have your ammo, so it’s up time.”

You roll over again, taking the edge of your blanket with you and tossing it over your head. You pull a stuffed animal under with you, and curl tightly around it.

“Nmf gmf.” You grumble at him through a mouthful of fluff.

“Nuh-uh!” Taylor tuts, already fluent in Morning Grumble, “We gotta get up. There’s food to be eaten, outfits to put on, and lines to beat!”

You let out a long, agonized, groan, but obligingly roll over and starfish out with childish protest. Taylor waits until you open your eyes to glare at his annoyingly cheerful blond bedhead before he leaves your doorway with a sunny smile. Smug bastard.

He leaves your door open too, the shit, allowing the sweet smell of french toast and eggs to drift into your room. You sit up with a whiney groan, scrubbing harshly at your face.

You’d forgive him this time. Just for the french toast.

You lean over to grab your phone from your bedside table, just waking the screen to check the time. When the numbers register you lay right the way back down with another long wail of protest.

Four in the morning. That french toast had better be fucking good.

You eventually stumble into the kitchen and are promptly handed a very large and very welcomed cup of coffee. Taylor hands you a plate piled high with french toast and eggs, fruits and toppings already out, before you can even try to start bitching at him.

You take in the spread with a furrowed brow, before slowly lifting your head to pin Taylor with a suspicious stare.

“My dude, it is four in the morning. How?”

Taylor just shrugs at you. “Couldn’t sleep. Too excited.”

You nod slowly at him. “I’ll drive. You’re napping in the car.”

This triggers a round of outraged whining from your sleep-deprived roommate, which you cull by pointing out that headaches and concerts are an awful combo. He subsides but insists he’ll be even more excited in the car, since it’s closer to concert time. You tell him to do it anyway.

“Why are we up so early in the first place?” You complain as you drain the last dregs of your drink. “The concert isn’t for, like, fifteen hours.”

“The concert is only fifteen hours away! Countdowns have already started, mark my words!” Taylor counters, “You got us Soundcheck tickets! VIP! We have to take advantage! I want the entire experience. Freebies, insane merch lines, sponsor booths, everything.” He gets more and more incensed as he goes on, leaning farther over the table, his shirt almost dragging in the puddles of syrup on his plate.

You raise your hands in surrender to his wild-eyed look. “Whatever,” You concede, “You’re the boss, this is your day.”

Taylor nods in satisfaction, leaning back. You notice that he actually does take some syrup with him as he re-seats himself. “As it should be.” Is his prim reply.

You sort of just laugh at him, and your routine of friendly bickering continues as the two of you make quick work of fixing up the kitchen.

You two split off to get ready, Taylor demanding a leave time of 6am sharp. You do your best to appease him, dressing up enough to say you put effort in, but paying mind to comfort over style. You’re putting the last touches on your eye liner when Taylor barges in.

You give him a stink eye for not knocking, which he blissfully ignores as he looks over you top to bottom. He summarily declares you “Good, but not good enough” and stampedes over to raid your closet.

At this point in your cohabitation you’ve learned to just let him do his thing when he gets like this. He doesn’t let you dress yourself when you go clubbing with his friends either, the jerk. Your fashion sense is perfectly acceptable, thank-you-very-much.

He tells you you’re being assigned a bias for today based on your wardrobe as he tosses you a white and navy stripped polo shirt and some navy sweatpants with racer strips on the side. He pulls up a reference photo on your phone and tells you to accessorize while he goes to find an appropriate tie from his stash for you.

Looking at the picture of Han Jisung on your screen, you admit that the outfit is pretty close already. You decide to leave the polo’s buttons undone, grabbing a white camisole to put on under. Your accessories take a bit longer, and you can’t see the shoes to match those, but Taylor seems satisfied enough when he comes back.

He hands you a tie and a handful of pins to complete your look and begins pushing you out the door before you can even put them on properly. When you protest this he insists that the two of you are running late, despite the concert still being more than 13 hours away.

You do, in fact, make him sleep in the car. He does not appreciate this, but early morning traffic can lull even the most dutiful of soldiers to sleep. He’s somehow even more chipper than usual when he wakes up, despite being groggy and bleary-eyed.

The crowd, when the two of you arrive, isn’t as big as you were expecting it to be. With all of Taylor’s rushing, you’d expected to barely be able to see the doors. The merch booth he was so excited about isn’t even open yet, and he settles the two of you into the line to enter the venue instead of camping there.

It’s immediately obvious who the extrovert between the two of you is, Taylor’s bouncy blond head beginning to duck and weave among the small crowd as soon as you claim your spot, laughs and excited exchanges popping up wherever he stopped. You, on the other hand, stay exactly where you’d been left and fiddle around on your phone, Taylor’s clear backpack abandoned in your arms.

You’re pretty sure this is purposeful on his part. You know each other well enough by now that he’s well aware of your tendency to stay planted once you’re settled. You’re definitely being used to stake out your spot. You steal one of his granola bars as payment for your services.

An hour or so drags through, and Taylor has thoroughly befriended most of the people around you. Once he’s decided that it’s about time to line up for some of the merch booths, Taylor leaves you in the tender care of the other fans as he goes to stake out a spot. He gracefully accepts both your wallet and your request of “a t-shirt and something they can sign”

The group of four people behind you, in particular, take his (only semi-joking) request of “take care of my introvert for me” seriously.

“So are you a Han bias?” One asks you as Taylor prances off. Her outfit is majority blue, little Bbokari (You can admit that the little characters charm you. You probably know their names better than the Stray Kids themselves) hair clips and keychains decorating her person.

You look down at yourself and then back up at her, almost having forgotten that you were dressed up as him. “Ah, no. Taylor, my friend, dressed me this morning. We’re here for him today. Though, he did say Han was my assigned bias today.” You laugh nervously, hoping they don’t judge your lack of knowledge.

Thankfully none of them seem discouraged by your response, giggling along with your little joke. In fact one of them, dressed head to toe in merch, seems almost excited by the prospect.

“Are you a baby Stay then?” She asks you with sparkling eyes. You wave your hands in front of yourself a bit defensively.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t go that far. I like their music when Taylor plays it around the apartment, but I wouldn’t consider myself part of the fandom. This is actually my first k-pop experience in general.” You explain, “When I say we’re here for him, I mean I am here in total ignorance.”

Another girl, dressed in a loud assortment of colors you vaguely recognize from the music video Taylor had on loop in your living room for a week and a half when it dropped, lets out a low whistle. “Throwing you right into the deep end, huh? Hardcore.”

The group of you laugh a bit, the only guy in their group agreeing with, “Well if you’re not a fan now, you will be when you leave. Their performances are amazing, honestly.”

You absorb the gushing with an open heart, truly hoping for that to be the case. You take this opportunity to take the spotlight off of yourself.

“Oh, have you guys been to a Stray Kids concert before? It’s Taylor’s first.”

That question is the key to the floodgates, and you end up spending the next 3 and a half hours waiting for Taylor’s return (with text updates from the man himself, assuring you that he is still where he’s supposed to be) being regaled with tales of concerts, events, and comebacks past. You feel a bit like you’re getting a crash course in all things Stray Kids, phones often popping out to show you clips, fancams, and photos.

It makes you smile, feeling very included and welcomed as you occasionally pepper in a question or two to keep them going. It’s just like dinners at the apartment with Taylor, him unloading his stress through fandom, and you unloading yours through listening to his ramblings.

This is exactly why you came with him today.

Taylor makes his return loaded down with goodies both purchased and gifted by other fans, to which you welcome him by cheering loudly. This triggers your new group to do the same. Somehow, the five of you cheering leads to a large portion of the early crowd, which had grown by the hour, cheering with you.

You feel a bit shy at the power you apparently hold, and laugh about it with your new friends.

Eventually Taylor and Merch Girl (you hadn’t managed to catch any of their names, you realize belatedly. It’d be too awkward to ask now. You resolve to simply Not Address Them) split off to do more rounds among other fans, distributing their own freebies.

You hadn’t even realized Taylor had made freebies. You’re also not sure how he found the time. Love finds a way, you suppose.

The other group’s Token Guy Friend (who will always been Token Guy to you, so sorry Token Guy) passes the conversation back to you. Not appreciated, Token Guy.

You can’t be all that mad though, as he shuffles through his bag to produce a piece of paper and a chisel-tipped sharpie. He passes the items to you with a grin.

“If you’re close to the stage you should have a sign! You might get an interaction that way!” He enthuses. The remaining girls cheer at the idea, sighing over the possibility of you getting an interaction at your very first concert.

You hold back correcting them that it’s just your first k-pop concert. You’re sure that’s what they mean anyways, as the experience so far has been quite different from your usual.

You look at the items in your hand, and then back at him. He offers to let you use his back to write on. You once again stare between his meticulous outfit and the sharpie in your hand. You are so not going to ruin someone’s day with what was supposed to be a kind gesture.

You motion for him to wait a moment and dig around in your own bag for a moment, the seat cushion Taylor had insisted you bring slapping you incessantly from where it hangs as you shuffle both your shoulder bag and Taylor’s backpack around. Eventually you manage to pull out your travel first aid kit, pulling a gauze pad from it.

You unclip the seat cushion from your bag and place it on the ground, motioning for Token Guy to kneel. He does so bemusedly.

“I’m gonna make it fancy,” You inform him, “those random calligraphy classes from high-school aren’t going to fail me today.” He makes a noise of assent and you’re crowding over his bent back, unfurling the gauze pad to make a barrier between the paper and his shirt.

He and the girls make their conversation around you as you sink into concentration. It’s very difficult to make nice, even, lines on an uneven surface like a back, and you have to keep gently slapping Token Guy’s shoulder when he laughs to remind him not to move.

Taylor and Merch Girl have returned by the time you finish your sign, Taylor laughingly cautioning any of them from breaking your concentration for anything less than Token Guy’s health. Unless they wanted to face your Wrath(tm), of course.

His advice seems to have been heeded, because by the time you tune back into the outside world you have a sign with very pretty (and most importantly - legible) calligraphy that reads:

[HAN! You’ve been assigned as my bias today! Make me fall for you?]

You even took the time to add Korean translations in smaller script beneath each line. You also take the time to admire your own foresight for laying out the gauze pad, small black marks littering it’s surface. Token Guy seems equally impressed when he looks at it, before taking the initiative to trash both it and the wrapper for you.

Merch Girl reads your sign when you proudly hold it in front of yourself and cackles.

“So that’s why he really brought you along, huh?” She teases, elbowing Taylor like they’re old friends. He has that effect on people. “She can talk to them for you if the Aussie line isn’t around.” Taylor gives a sheepish laugh and a faux-guilty shrug.

“That, and she bought the tickets. I couldn’t leave her behind if I tried.” He pokes at you as he speaks, mirth dancing in his eyes. Laughter erupts around the group as you shout your offence, making to start roughhousing with him like you do your sister.

The time passes joyously this way until the doors finally open to begin letting people in for sound check.

You’re not gonna lie, you’re already super tired and peopled out. Luckily, Taylor had clocked you flagging before even you had, and sent you to sit in “introvert time out” on your cushion in a shaded spot away from the crowd. So you could make it through sound check and the actual concert. Probably.

You and Taylor pass through security unscathed, having already eaten or trashed any snacks or drinks you’d brought with you, and having not bothered bringing much else. Both of your bags were just full of merch and freebies at this point.

Once you actually enter the venue you take the lead, dragging Taylor by the wrist to your seats. You’re actually super excited to show him the seats you’d gotten, having kept anything beyond ‘soundcheck’ a secret.

Taylor is already vibrating with excitement as you lead him to the floor seats. He’s nearly trembling as you lead him right up the center, past rows and rows of little white chairs erected for the reserved seating tickets. When you finally sit him down right in front of the thrust stage, plopping into the seat beside him with satisfaction, he turns to you with saucer-wide eyes.

“Noo...” He whispers.

“Oh, yes.” You return, blessing him with a grin and little eyebrow wiggle.

Taylor basically tackles you in a hug, almost knocking you into the person next to you, and squeals his thanks so loudly that you’re sure the entire stadium hears. When he’s done thanking you he pulls back, hands on your shoulders, with the most deadly serious eyes you had ever seen on him.

“I would die for you.” He intones lowly. You crack first, the two of you breaking into a giggle fit that was almost concerning with it’s intensity. When the two of you calm down and turn to settle and sit properly, he nudges your shoulder with his.

“Seriously,” He says, eyes soft, “You’re the best ever. You need anything from today on? I’m your guy.”

You chuckle at him, nudging him back, “Do my dishes for the next month, then.” You tease.

He rears back, hands up in joking surrender, “Woah, woah! Let’s not go that far! I meant if you needed to escape from the mob or something, not chores.” He gives an exaggerated shudder before breaking into his usual silly grin.

The two of you spend the next however long indulging in familiar banter, waving at the group of fans you’d made friends with outside when you spotted them not terribly far away, and generally recharging your batteries for the concert. Taylor eventually moves on to talking to the people around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

You close your eyes for just a moment, trying to turn the lights off in your brain for a bit. You really needed the music to start soon, you were going to fall asleep.

Almost as if in answer to your prayers, the group begins trickling on stage for sound check.

To be honest, both soundcheck and the concert pass in a blur for you.

Once things kick off, you’re swept away in a wave of cheers, music, and lights. You hadn’t expected front row seats to be quite as intense as they were, but you made a note to yourself to not book such tickets for yourself in the future.

You couldn’t really handle it.

Still, Taylor seems to have the time of his life, and you manage to immerse yourself in the concert enough to shake your sign at Han when he passes by, earning yourself a wink and a cheek heart. Taylor was nearly euphoric at having caught the interaction with his phone camera.

By the time it’s over, you’re fairly sure you had a good time, but also 100% sure that you were completely overwhelmed. Taylor manages to drag you to the send off that you paid for spots at anyway. Curse his charming, sunny demeanor.

You can’t really process how it happened at this point, but you end up practically pinned to the railing of the barricade at the send-off location, separated from Taylor, and clinging to your façade of an excited fan with a white knuckled grip. You have three things on you to get signed, and a mission from Taylor to get all three scribbled on.

Your sign for Han, a ballcap Taylor had customized, and a Lee Know photocard Taylor had entrusted to you with a gravity you weren’t sure it warranted. He had, like, three of the same one.

You try to drum up the determination to see your mission through, but find it difficult to dredge up any will at all.

Time waits for no man, however, and soon enough the members begin making their way through, delivering high-fives, autographs, and aegyo as they pass through. You end up squished almost violently to the railing, ducking a bit and making yourself as small as possible as hands, phones, and items all get waved around and over you.

You’re not sure you like send-off.

There’s so many noises and sights and smells that you have a really hard time keeping track of which member is where. Plus, you’re still a lot overwhelmed from lining up before dawn and the concert itself. You’re tired, you’re cranky, and you want to go home.

At some point Lee Know must pass by you, and you must have presented the photocard properly, because you have a signed one now. That’s cool. The faster you get the requested autographs, the faster you can leave.

Bangchan spawns in front of you from the aether, from your point of view. You may be a bit more out of it than you’d like to admit. Still, you dutifully hold out your ballcap for him to sign, exchanging post-concert niceties on pure autopilot.

Because you’re not all that present at the moment, or maybe because all you’d had was your breakfast and some granola bars in the last 13 hours, you don’t hold your balance the way you should when someone shoves at you from behind. You catch yourself on the railing, but you dropped the freshly signed cap.

Bangchan kindly stoops to pick it up for you, and you thank him. A couple of things happen very quickly at that point.

1) Unlike the first two exchanges of the cap, because of the awkward and quick nature of Bangchan’s action, it is no longer being handed to you with lots of space between your hand and his.

2) You’re still being jostled around. No matter how much you brace for the impact of the bodies surrounding you, you couldn’t possibly keep totally still.

3) These two things have a consequence. Your hand brushes Chan’s as he hands you the cap.

The world stops for you for a moment, as pins and needles stab into dozens of familiar spots all across your lower abdomen. You freeze, dumb, awkward, overwhelmed smile plastered to your face as Bangchan turns away from you.

The pain isn’t that bad, really, more like a bad period cramp mixed with a sleeping limb waking up. Still, you curl your arm around your stomach, and your body bows with the motion. As if you could protect your reality from shattering and reshaping itself in front of you.

Static fills your ears and your poor, overloaded, brain throbs with the beginnings of a migraine.

Bangchan is your soulmate.

International k-pop sensation Bangchan is one of your eight soulmates.

Bangchan is part of a group with eight members.

Your soulmate is already moving away from you, your minor interaction just a footnote of his day, the tingling pain of your soulmate bond awakening probably blending in with a thousand other minor aches and pains from a very physically intense day for him.

You come back to clarity with the resolve that you’d like it to stay that way.

With a sense of urgency, you look around the crowd you’re part of, noting distinct faces and colors for the first time. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for until you spot it, and suddenly your escape plan is fully formed.

There, just a couple shoves and elbow throws away, is Blue Bbokari Girl from this morning.

You struggle your way over, people falling into the space you’d left at the railing like a pack of hyenas on fresh meat. When you reach her you the gently at her sleeve to get her attention.

She turns to you with confusion first, a bright greeting next, and finally a concerned scrunch of her brow as she takes in your hunched form.

“Hey, I’m feeling kind of sick, can you help me get out of the crowd?” You’re sure you look convincingly pathetic and weak as you plead with her. If only because you really did feel pathetic and weak at the moment.

“Oh, of course, hun! Just a moment.” She begins to crane her neck around to scan the crowd like you’d done moments prior. You feel a bit bad for interrupting her night like this, but as she calls out to someone behind her, you’re more thankful than anything.

Blue Bbokari Girl successfully gets the attention of someone you don’t recognize, and a quick summary of, “She’s sick, help her leave!” shouted over the crowd has you being passed through the crowd unmolested.

You find yourself enveloped in a chain of fans, one passing you to another, pausing, and calling on someone else to pass you to until you’ve finally stumbled free of the send-off mob.

Feeling a bit like you’d just been spat out of the maw of a great creature, you look back at the rustling crowd, now looking like it had never been disturbed at all.

The last lady who had finally freed you, an older woman with a Jiniret picket, eyes you with concern as you put you back to the nearest wall and slide down it.

“Will you be okay, sweetie?” She questions you worriedly, “Do you have anyone to pick you up?”

You smile weakly at her and assure her that you just have to get ahold of your roommate and he’d get you home safe and sound. She tries to insist on waiting with you, but you persuade her to return to the crowd with promises that you’d make your way to a bathroom or security guard once the worst of your vertigo had passed.

You watch her return with morbid fascination, amazed when she just sort of gets absorbed back into the mass of people. Almost like it ate her. You once again marvel at making it out of such a thing unscathed.

Truth be told, your stomach was only sore and tender this point, the sharp, needle-point pains long gone. Still, you take a moment to bring your knees to your chest, just breathing as you press your forehead to them. If anyone were to look at you then, you wonder what they’d think of you curled up on the floor and trembling like your dog had just died.

You hope they’d view you with kindness.

After giving yourself a moment to just feel, though you couldn’t tell anyone what you had felt, you gather yourself enough to totter to your feet and drag yourself to the nearest bathroom. You text Taylor as you go.

[Hey. Felt sick, in bathroom rn. lmk when we can leave pls?]

Perma Tag List: @mbioooo0000

[mspopstar]

Okay! Now what would happen if you locked Kirby, Shadow Kirby, Keeby and the other Kirbys in the same room?

KE: "Kirby! Hello!!! Where are we?!? Is this some kind of game!!!"

KB: "Ah, an' Keeby's finally awaken."

SK: "Took you long enough, now that everyone has arisen. We can begin to investigate our trapping."

KU: "What the hell is goin' on here anyways! I was busy takin' a nap and now I'm here, talk about rude, right? Right, Kirby?"

KB: "Right, Kusa. Well, I'm not too sure about what's goin' on myself... It's a bit odd isn't it."

AKAA: "..."

SK: "Do you think we've been kidnapped?"

KB: "Heeeh? I don't know? Probably. I'm makin' guesses but I can't think of anyone who'd do this."

SKB: "What do you mean?"

KB: "Bein' in a white room doesn't really strike as my greatest Nightmare so it can't be the Nightmare Wizard either. We're awake and if he had a evil plan he would make it way more extravagant..''

SKB: "Anyone else that piques your thoughts?"

KB: "Can't be Yin-Yarn, we're not made out of yarn and this room does NOT feel like pants. Necrodeus can't be behind this 'cause he'd also just kill us all too. Can't be Taranza, he's too preoccupied with Sectonia and he'd rather torture me for days on end than kill us... Probably wouldn't involve any of ya'll. Susie... Susie wouldn't do this kind of thing I think and if it was her we'd already have broken out of this cage. Gryll would rather challenge ya' than trap ya' and I haven't eaten Salt, Pepper and the other one so I haven't a clue why'd I have that stinkin' witch's ire... Kracko isn't strong enough to pull something like this off....Neither is Whispy"

KU: "Woah, that sounds like... A LOT! I'm gonna take a nap, so..."

SKB: "Any other ideas, Kirby?"

KB: "Can't be Dark Crafter cause... We're all smooth. Hyness is out of the question, he promised me he wouldn't do anythin' evil. Marx is the same as Nightmare, this too borin' for him to do. Too weak too."

SKB: "How... How many people hate you?"

KB: "A lot. Ah. Hate... This is Zero ain't it."

SKB: "Wh..Who?"

KB: "No, no, no... Agh. He's... He's like Dark Mind but actually a threat! Your world's Zero's him I think. Anyways, Dark Mind wasn't that big of a deal but Zero... Zero's a big deal. I hope it ain't him. But... we're in a white room. Thinkin' about it now this seems like somethin' he'd do. Guy lives off of makin' people suffer so trappin' us in a prison with no food, water, or anything really makes sense. He's literally gonna bore us to death an' probably feed off of the resultin' sadness from that... Awh, an' he's probably gone an' messed up Pop Star while we're here. Crap."

SKB: "...I hope it isn't that but let's calm down first."

SKB: "You, yellow one. Why are you covered in blood? What do you remember last before coming here?"

KB: "It's Keeby, Shadow!"

KEB: "Hihihi! I had a really fun cage match!!! Knuckle Joe said he'd take me out for a huuuuge super mega, ultra deluxe, beef bowl with ramen if I won so I went all out! Guess I got a lil' too excited cause then I went an' passed out an' now I'm here."

KB: "Ah, sounds like ya' won. Good job!"

SKB: "Affirmative. Here I appeared closing my eyes during yet another arduous training session with Meta Knight."

KB: "Eh? Nuh-uh! He was doing his afternoon patrol-y thinー"

SKB: "My Meta Knight, you ingrate."

KU: "...I was playin' around at the Dedede Resort Casino. Y'know, pinball and then I decided to take a nap by the beach after a hefty loss. Then I woke up here. Well. Wake me up once you've figured out an escape plan an' all that."

KB: "Awh, that sounds like a lotta fun, ya' have to invite me sometime. I found myself here cause Gooey licked my face to get at a fish I had and I had to rub my face real hard to get all that slobbery stuff off. When I opened my eyes, I was here!"

SKB: "That's it? you were licked by that infernal pet of yours and then you closed your eyes and that's how you appeared in this room?"

KB: "Heey, Gooey's not my pet he's my friend! What about it?"

SKB: "Well, Kusa and Keeby found themselves here after sleeping. You and I simply...blinked. Akaabi over there... I don't know. What I'm getting at is that there's no connection."

KB: "Geez, you know now that I'm thinkin' about it... If I had known we'd all meet up like this I'd have packed a picnic basket or lunch or somethin'."

KEB: "Yummy!!!"

SKB: "By the stars, Kirby, you're right... This is terrible."

KB: "Heh? What, ya' don't like picnics?"

SKB: "No, you daft fool. Food. We're going to starve in here."

KU: "GAH, DON'T EVEN SAY THAT!!!"

SIX HOURS LATER...

AKAA: "here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here--"

SKB: "Akaabi, please."

KEB: "Loop numba' 3236, loop numba' 3237, loop numba' 3238, loop numba' 3239, loop numba' 3240, loop numba' 3241, loop numba' 3242, loop numba' 3243, loop numba' 3244, loop numba' 3245, loop numba' 3246, loop numba' 3247, loop numba' 3248, loop numba' 3249, loop numba' 3250, loop numba' 3251, loop numba' 3252, loop numba' 3253, loop numba' 3254, loop numba' 3255, loop numba' 3256, loop numba' 3257, loop numba' 3258, loop numba' 3259, loop numba' 3260, loopー""

SKB: "Keeby, please."

SKB: "Kirby...?" KB: "Yes, Shadow?" SKB: "We're not dead, right?" KB: "No... I don't even think that's possible, right?" SKB: "Everything and anything will inevitably die."

KB: "...Huh. Probably not. Why're askin'?"

SKB: "Well..."

KB: "Hhmm?"

KEB: "ーnumba' 3261, loop numba' 3262, loop numba' 3263, loop numba' 3264, loop numba' 3265, loop numba' 3266, loop numba' 3267, loop numba' 3268, loop numba' 3269, loop numba' 3270, loop numba' 3271, loop numba' 3272, loop numba' 3273, loop numba' 3274, loop numba' 3275, loop numba' 3276, loop numba' 3277, loop numba' 3278, loop numba' 3279, loop numba' 3280, loop numba' 3281, loop numba' 3282, loop numba' 3283, loop numba' 3284, loop numba' 3285ー"

KU: "SNOOOOOOOOOOOOOORREEEEEEEEEEー"

AKAA: "here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta hereー"

SKB: "I have done a lot of terrible things, and I have a sinking feeling that this is my personal Hell. Maybe when I was training with Meta Knight, instead of dodging properly, he halved me. Thus, for my slothful behavior and negligence leading to the harm of many before you showed up... This, this is my punishment. If so, I give my regards to Lord Morpho. She truly has outdone herself this time."

KB: "Hmmn. I don't know. This doesn't seem like a punishment, don't it?"

SKB: "That, that right there is why I'm on edge and close to losing my mind! Stop it!"

KB: "Heeh? What'd I do!?"

SKB: "How can you be so... so calm?!"

KB: "Hm. It's a little bad, yes, but I'm surrounded by friends and I always manage to get out of these sit-chyuu-waytions, don't I?"

AKAA: "here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here I gotta get outta here ー"

KEB: "numba' 3286, loop numba' 3287, loop numba' 3288, loop numba' 3289, loop numba' 3290, loop numba' 3291, loop numba' 3292, loop numba' 3293, loop numba' 3294, loop numba' 3295, loop numba' 3296, loop numba' 3297, loop numba' 3298, loop numba' 3299, loop numba' 3300, loop numba' 3301, loop numba' 3302, loop numba' 3303, loop numba' 3304, loop numー"

SKB: "AKAABI, KEEBY, CUT IT OUT!!!"

SKB: "Is it impossible for you still yourself for more than a second you spaz?!?"

AKAA: "...No."

SKB: "And you, be quiet! Nobody wants to hear that. I tolerated you licking off your own blood and babbling like an animal but if you continue that jabbering, you'll see a real animal!"

KEB: "Hii－! Scary!"

KB: "Shadow, calm down."

SKB: "Don't refer to me as Shadow, refer to me as Kirby! I hate this! Stuck with a bunch of lesser beings!"

KB: "...Well, I can't do that cause I'm Kirby. So calm down, okay?"

SKB: "H-How can I? I'm trapped with you and them and I'm stuck, and I can't go home a-and andー"

KB: "Shadow, it's gonna be fine. I'm sure of it! Totally sure! 100% positive!"

SKB: "How?"

KB: "Cause I belive in myself and my selves!"

SKB: "It's BELIEVE! BELIEVE YOU ASS!!! I'm not YOURS either!"

KB: "Anyways, chillax Shadow. I've figured out a way to get out of here!

SKB: "...."

KEB: "Ooh, ooh! Me too!"

KB: "Aren't ya' gonna ask how?"

SKB: "...How?"

KB: "It's a bit of a hunch, and I feel like dumb for not realizin' earlier but couldn't we just warp outta here?"

SKB: Can... Can the Warp Star even make it here? Wherever here is?"

KB: "I dunno, better to try than do nothin'! Plus, ya' gotta remember. The farther we are, the faster it is! Dedede said it can build up an huuuge amount of speed but then he started talkin' maths so I tuned it out!"

SKB: "Well... If that is the case, I suppose it could work. Go ahead and call it."

KB: "WAAAAARRRRRRPPPPPP STARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

KB: "Now we wait."

SKB: "Wait, wait, wait! ...Kirby."

KB: "Yeah, Shadow?"

SKB: "Correct me if I'm wrong but... If your Dedede said that the Warp Star increases with speed and force relative to the distance of the summoner, right?"

KB: "Geez, what now Shadow? Can't ya' be happy and wait patiently?"

SKB: "No. It could kill us all. You know how your Warp Star constantly explodes when you land because you don't decrease its fv? Let's say you're summoning it from...20 miles away. That's fine cause the combined velocity and force wouldn't be dangerous.... That'd be like... F⋅v≈1.2075×10^9, right? Anyways, not too big of a deal! Small explosion, very managable."

KB: "Heeeeh?"

SKB: "The force and velocity of your Warp Star expoentially increases relative to the distance of its summon or target, building up lots of energy. That's why they're so dangerous but so quick. So, if we all are far FAR far away. Depending on where we are... if it's then the force and speed of the Warp Star will increase with such an exponential level strength that once it makes impact it will be like standing right next to hundreds of thousands of Bombers exploding all at once."

KB: "Oh I'm sure it'll be fine. Plus maybe it'll break this prison! Win-win!"

SKB: "With us in it."

KB: "P'shaw! It'll be fine! I've been through worse!

SKB: "Kirby."

KUU: "Whaat? We're still here? Lame. What'd I miss"

SKB: "Kirby here is going to harness the infinite power of exponential force of a Warp Star and kill us all"

KB: "Nuh-uh! Shadow's bein' a sourpuss cause he couldn't save the day like he wanted. I'm about to break us out."

KUU: "Well, how long will it take? I'm gettin' sleepy again. Hungry too."

KB: "...I dunno..."

SKB: "Well, there is a positive. It's gonna come here quick. By this point, it will eventually exceed the speed of light and a blazar jet. Perhaps more even. You probably don't know, but it theoretically can travel between dimensions so..."

KB: "So... 'Kirby, you're plan might work?' is what ya' mean to say?"

SKB: "Yes! Yes it will work, it will work and then we will be disentigrated as a celestial object makes impact with the force of travelling past the speed of light."

TEN MINUTES LATER...

AKAA: "Do you all hear that?"

KB, SKB, KEB, KUU, AKAA: "?"

*Piii-------------------------------------------------------!!!!!"

*Krrkk...k..*

KB: "Yay, it's here!!!"

SKB: "..."

KEB: "AHAHAHAAH!!!! BRING IT ONNNNNNN!!!!"

AKAA: "WE'RE GONNA GET OUTTA HERE!!!!"

KUU: "Is it gettin' hot in he-"

A̴̟͇̞͈̘̱̟̙̗͑̎̓̎̎̊̇̐Ȧ̵͚̘̗͈͓̘͓Å̴͈̝̀͌̀͗̅͊̅̚͝ͅA̶̛͕̠͜A̷̗̙͕̪̻̭̞͕̗͌À̷̡̒̑̅̅̂̉͊̂̑A̶̧̠̱̲̝͎͐̈̂̉́̚Ȁ̴̡͘A̸̢̼̻̲̫̖͚͗̔͐͊͂͗̏͐͌A̷̗͛̏̐͂̉̋̿̎̋̌A̴͕͙̩͚̩̩͖̍͌̋̅̉̇̈͂́A̸̮͎̲̭͍̫͈͆͒͆̈̚͝Ą̶̩͈̱̟̱̖͖̉Ã̸̛͇̗͖̳̣̩̂͊̍͊Â̷̰̪͍̻̳Ḁ̵̌̑̄̎͗̔A̸͕͍̦̲͙̼̳̼͔̽̐͝A̵̧̢̺͉̩̺̎͌̏͛̄Å̴͔̯̽̈́̉͌͊͝Ả̴̙̎͜Ȁ̵̛͇̰̟̠̮͖̗̅͊̔̇͂̑Ȧ̶̧̰̦̮̞̭̮͕̳Ä̴͓͚̥̪̤̤́̆̈́͐̈́̐̏͝ͅH̸͚͍̱̿́̋Ḩ̶̧̫̒̒̒̚͝H̸̝̪̮̜̭͗͐͋̑̋̓̚Ḩ̷̮̳̲̤͙͚͇̇͋̓̔̐Ḫ̶̻̩̬̲͇̠͊͑͊̈́̆̍͑̾͠ͅḦ̸̛̙̱̎̽H̸̙̹̒̐̒̾Ḩ̶̛H̸̙̰͉̱̘̰̘̙̭̣̑͊͌̓̾̓̓̏̌A̸̧̨̛̰̪̰̲͈͗̉̓́̑̾͘͠͝A̴͚͔͋̀̓͘͝͠Ą̸̛͕̞̮̰̖͈͊͒̾̀̕A̶̢̡̢̡̞͔̪͔͈̲͋̈́̇̔͘À̵̢̩̱̰̙͔͆͜A̴̖͈͉̟̝̣̠͋́A̴̢̦̲̐

???? LATER...

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 3 (Final)

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Sleeping Beauty featuring Sukuna! After your parents are killed, leaving you as the young queen, you hire the mysterious and violent Sukuna to be your Captain of the Guard to protect you from an evil fairy’s curse. You’re in love with him, but he just keeps refusing you! 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Read Choso x Rapunzel Here!

Read Toji x Snow White Here!

Read Higuruma x Little Mermaid Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Reader as Sleeping Beauty, Sukuna as her Captain of the Guard. Oral sex. Rough sex. Creampie. 

Any feedback is adored! Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear.

Sitting on your throne, Sukuna standing guard at your side, you listen as your advisers try to convince you not to go looking for the old fairy. 

“Surely she’ll give up now!” one of them says. “The curse didn’t work!”

Sukuna gives him a withering stare. “We don’t know that the curse is over. We don’t know what will happen if she’s pricked by a needle again.”

You nod. “If I just fall asleep again, that’s no problem, since we know how to fix it.”

Sukuna grins. “I’m ready to perform my duty at anytime.”

The other advisers look away from him awkwardly. 

“The problem is,” you continue, “when the good fairy altered the curse, we don’t know if that was a one time deal, of it it applies to every time I touch a needle. I can’t risk finding out.”

The lady adviser looks at Sukuna. “And you believe the old fairy will try to kill her in more conventional ways now?”

“She will. And I’ll protect the queen, but it would be much simpler for all of us if I just go kill the old bitch.”

The lady adviser nods. “I see. The two of you have my support. We will look after the kingdom in your absence.”

The other two advisers seem to bristle at that statement. “This is a terrible idea!” one of them shouts, looking directly at you. “You have no heir! If you’re killed on this fool’s errand, the kingdom will be thrown into chaos!”

“I won’t be killed,” you say firmly. “Sukuna will be with me. I’m confident that he will keep me alive.”

The third adviser throws his hands up as if in dismay. “You don’t even know where to look! The woods are vast and sprawling! How will you find the old fairy?”

Sukuna speaks up again. “I know someone who can help with that. They’re a bit of a fairy themself.” 

That piques your interest. Sukuna has never revealed anything about his life before he met you, so even hearing about an acquaintance of his is new territory. “Let’s go see this person you know,” you tell him. 

No one else objects as the two of you prepare to leave. You wear a simpler dress, something easy to move in and won’t have your tailor in tears when you return with it dirty and ripped. You pack a bag with dried foods, water, and some basic supplies, and then the two of you head out. 

The walk through the town is arduous. So many of the people have somehow already heard about your brief time asleep and are happy to see you up and about. You don’t know how news traveled so fast, but you’re happy you can put the people at ease. 

Once you reach the edge of the woods, Sukuna steps in, seemingly with no thought or care for the dangers. All your life, you’ve been told to stay away from the woods, that great beasts live there, as well as old magic and wicked fairies and all manner of horrible things. So to see someone simply walk on in without worry surprises you.  

He turns to look at you. “Getting cold feet, princess?”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I just thought you might escort me like a proper gentleman,” you say, stepping in after him. 

“So you want me to hold your hand?”

“No! I’m perfectly fine walking on my own!”

He gives you an irritated look. “Are you really acting shy about holding hands after I’ve already fucked you?”

You feel your face heating up. “Must you speak so crudely?”

“You like when I speak crudely,” he says. 

You stare at him, at his strange tattoos. “You are an odd man. Where do you even come from?”

He’s walking a few steps in front of you now, leading you deeper into the forest. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

For the next hour, the two of you don’t talk much, only occasional questions, until Sukuna suddenly stops and holds one hand up. “We’re in their territory. They’ll be along as soon as they sense me.”

You notice the air seems much colder here, in this part of the woods. There are even a few icicles hanging from some of the upper branches of trees! 

The two of you only walk a few more minutes before a person seems to appear out of nowhere, standing a few feet ahead. From here, you can’t tell if they’re a man or a woman, but they’re clearly beautiful. They’re wearing strange robes, of material you can’t identify, and their hair is a shiny silver color that glints in the patches of sunlight breaking through the trees. 

They look at you with a bored expression before turning their gaze to Sukuna. Then they immediately rush forward and drop into a bow before him. 

“Lord Sukuna! I welcome you to my home. What can I do to serve you?”

You look at the newcomer in shock, then turn to Sukuna. “Lord?”

He waves his hand dismissively. “A remnant of a different life.” Then he looks down at the bowing figure. “Uraume, you know these woods well. Do you know where the one called the ‘old fairy’ lives?”

Uraume looks up before slowly standing. “I have an idea of where she resides, though I’m not certain. I can go and confirm if you like.”

Sukuna regards Uraume with a complicated expression, and lowers his voice slightly. “The magic you have here, is it enough to deal with the old fairy if she attacks you?”

Uraume blinks, seeming surprised. “I appreciate your concern, my lord. But I won’t engage with her. She uses old magic, the kind baked into the origins of this world. I will only confirm her presence and return here.”

Sukuna nods. “Be careful. Don’t leave me alone here.”

Uraume’s cold eyes slide over to you. “If I may say, my lord, it looks like you aren’t alone.”

Sukuna glances at you as well, a look of irritation on his face. “I’ve softened too much. Killing the old fairy should improve my mood.”

Uraume gives another quick bow, and then they leave. You approach Sukuna, feeling like he’s suddenly a different person. You feel like you need to talk, to start a conversation, anything to call him back to you. 

“How do you know Uraume?” you ask. 

“They’re a former servant of mine,” he answers, not looking you in the face. Even his tone of voice seems different. 

“Servant? Are you… some kind of royalty? From another kingdom?”

He laughs. “I’ve been called a king, but I’m not royalty.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

He looks at you finally, and his gaze is so cold, it’s frightening. What happened to him? “You’re asking too many questions. My patience is growing thin.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, your voice weaker than you intended. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought… we were growing closer…”

His harsh gaze softens slightly. “Don’t apologize. Seeing Uraume again has reminded me of who I once was. And I slipped back into my old mannerisms.”

“You talk as if you’re a different person entirely now,” you say, stepping closer. 

He gives you that familiar grin, and you feel your unease begin to fade. “I am, princess.”

Uraume returns a few minutes later, much faster than you expected. They look as if they never even left, totally calm, not a single hair out of place. It doesn’t appear that they were in any danger. 

They bow before Sukuna again, and you realize this makes you uncomfortable. As a ruler yourself, you’ve never demanded anyone bow to you, at least not like this. A slight inclination of the head as you pass has always been perfectly acceptable, or nothing at all. What kind of king was Sukuna if his subjects felt the need to bow so deeply and so quickly? 

“I’ve found her, my lord.”

“Good. Lead the way,” Sukuna replies, and Uraume rises smoothly to their feet. 

As you and Sukuna follow them deeper into the woods, your curiosity gets the better of you again. “They don’t mind coming with us? We’ll be putting them in danger.”

Sukuna scoffs. “Uraume has never minded danger for my sake. And by some cruel joke of fate, they’re much more powerful than me right now.”

The way he says it, as if that wasn’t always the case, only makes you more curious. Uraume is clearly a fairy of the woods. Even you can sense the magic coming from them. How could a mere human man ever be more powerful than that? But you keep the question to yourself for now. The distance in Sukuna’s eyes earlier still worries you. 

**************************

Sukuna walks a few steps ahead to fall in pace with Uraume. The former servant glances at him, and it’s obvious they feel a measure of discomfort not walking behind him. 

“The old fairy,” Sukuna says, “How strong is she?”

Uraume pulls a low branch back, keeping it from scraping Sukuna. “I’ve heard she is physically weak, but her magical power easily dwarfs my own. She’s cunning, and has many tricks to rely on.”

Sukuna feels a rush of excitement. He hasn’t fought a powerful opponent in so very long. He’s smiling as he says, “So she could easily kill me.”

Uraume apparently realizes what he’s thinking. “She should be quite stimulating, my lord.”

Suddenly Sukuna remembers the woman walking a few steps behind, fragile and delicate, the old fairy’s main target. He should feel concern, perhaps even fear for her safety. But the thrill of the coming battle has overrided all other feelings. 

“Uraume, I need you to vow something for me.”

They look at him curiously. “Of course, Lord Sukuna. Whatever you wish.”

He glances back at the queen. “Protect her. From everything. No matter who or what you have to fight, let no harm come to her.”

Uraume looks over their shoulder at the woman. “I vow it, my lord. It seems she has become important to you.”

Sukuna shrugs. “She makes the time pass faster.”

Uraume says nothing more, and soon they pass into a section of the woods much darker than the rest. It’s definitely still daytime, the sun is certainly still up, but here in these woods it’s dark as night. The trees grow taller, closer together, like silent guards. Their branches are gnarled, their foliage mostly absent except for patches of brown. No flowers bloom here, and the air crackles with ancient magic. 

Sukuna sticks close to the queen, who is doing her best to show no fear, while Uraume leads them on, seeming cool and calm as always. Up ahead, he spots a castle. Unlike the queen’s well-kept (if relatively modest) castle, this one is dilapidated. Dark, twisting vines cover the place like a veil, and a strange creeping fog floats around their legs. It’s a place designed to strike fear into the hearts of men. But Sukuna only feels anticipation. 

The vines part as they reach the castle, as if they’re sentient. The heavy wooden door opens, and a figure clad in black robes emerges from the shadows. From back here, it’s hard to make out the details of her face, but Sukuna can feel it: this is the old fairy.  

All the fairies were given simple titles. The good fairy, the ice fairy (the name given to Uraume), the wood fairy, etc. And Sukuna assumed the old fairy was simply, well, old. He did not expect her to be positively ancient, probably older than this world itself. She looks like any elderly lady, but he can feel the old and powerful magic radiating from her. 

She looks at him, her eyes focusing on him instead of the queen. 

“Why are you here, interloper?” she asks, her voice a crackle of dark energy. 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at that. “You know who I am?”

She laughs humorlessly. “Anyone with true power knows who you are, Fallen One. Tell me, what has it been like, cursed to live a thousand lives as a weak and powerless human?”

Sukuna grins at her. “It’s not been so bad. Power comes in many forms. I’ve made due with what I can grasp.”

The old fairy finally looks at the queen behind him. “You were foolish enough to bring her to me? Or are you hoping for some sort of trade?”

“I came to take your fucking head, you decrepit old bitch!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the flicker of fear that passes over the old fairy’s face. It’s amusing that he can inspire such fear even in this weakened state. 

He lunges forward, drawing his sword. The vines move to ensnare him, slithering about like snakes, trying to wrap around his limbs. His combat instincts resurface like muscle memory, his body dodging before his slow human brain can even process the attacks. 

As he cuts through the vines and closes in on the fairy, a great burst of green light erupts from the ground, aimed straight for him. He avoids the light, not sure what sort of attack it is but knowing better than to let it hit him. 

He glances back, sees that Uraume is beside the queen and has formed a shield of ice around the two of them, then refocuses on the fairy. 

Dodging those bursts of light, he rushes forward at incredible speed, aiming his sword forward. He realizes he’s smiling, enjoying the thrill of battle as the vines and green light blasts try to impede him. The old fairy makes a motion with her hands, trying to conjure something to defend herself with, but she’s too slow for Sukuna’s incredible speed. 

The blade pierces her body, running straight through her chest like a hot knife through butter. She looks up at him, and the lack of terror on her face tells him this is not over. It was way too easy.  

A giant burst of the green light bursts from her body, and he jumps back in time to avoid it, pulling his sword out of her in the process. He watches as the old fairy’s shape contorts, shifting, growing. It’s bathed in the green light, creating a shield he can’t touch. 

Within minutes, the human-shaped old fairy has transformed into a massive black dragon, its wings sprawled out behind it as it roars at the sky. The green light glows from its open mouth, and it begins walking toward Sukuna. 

Any man would be struck by terror, would flee for his life before such darkness and raw power. But Sukuna is not just any man. His heart is pounding, his adrenaline flaring within this weak human body, his soul remembering battles from many lifetimes ago. Ah yes, the person he used to be would have crushed this pitiful dragon within seconds.

The dragon rises up, its long neck extending skyward, as its mouth opens wider and a beam of green light shoots out. Sukuna moves to dodge, wondering if he could tank a direct hit, when a wall of ice appears before him. The ice shatters, but absorbs the bulk of the attack. Sukuna looks back at Uraume. In another life, he would have scolded them for interfering, but he’s different now. He’s a human fighting a supernaturally powerful ancient being. He wonders idly if the people who fought him so long ago felt the way he does now. 

If so, they owe him some gratitude. Because he hasn’t felt this kind of exhilaration since-

His thoughts are interrupted by another beam of green light, this one obvious enough for him to dodge before the dragon even opens its mouth. He’s beginning to read its moves, to predict what it will do. For all the old fairy’s power, she clearly hasn’t seen much actual combat. She probably scares off most threats before having to launch a single attack. Compared to Sukuna’s battle sense, she’s practically a newborn babe when it comes to fighting. 

And that is her undoing. She can’t follow or anticipate Sukuna’s movements, and so he gets above and behind her by dodging, weaving, and jumping off the wall of the castle beside her. He swings his sword down, chopping off the dragon’s head with one brutal swipe. 

Green light explodes from the dragon’s neck, and engulfs Sukuna as he stands nearby. It doesn’t hurt, but instead seems to be entering his body. It’s the old fairy’s power! It’s transferring to him! 

He stands completely still, letting the power flow into his body, filling him. It feels so good! So… familiar! 

He laughs loudly as his body glows. Uraume and the queen step closer. 

“Look, Uraume!” he calls, his voice sounding thunderous. “Real power! After all these lifetimes of weakness, to feel power like this flowing through me again… I’ve become myself!”

Uraume bows low. “I am pleased to see it, my lord!”

Sukuna’s gaze slides over to the other person in the woods with them - the queen of a tiny, insignificant kingdom. He’d almost forgotten she’s here. She’s not bowing, which irritates him. And she’s staring at him as his newfound power swirls around, warm and energized air whipping her hair and dress around her. In her eyes is not fear, but sadness. Ridiculous. She should fear him like all the other pitiful humans in this world. After all, their new king has arrived. 

“Insolent woman,” he says, directing a thin beam of the green light in her direction. He’d intended to shoot it very close to her as a warning, but a sudden wall of ice appears, blocking it. 

Sukuna looks sharply at Uraume. “You would get in my way?”

Uraume looks troubled, a rare expression on their usually cold face. “I am fulfilling my vow, Lord Sukuna. You made me swear no harm would come to her.”

Sukuna scoffs. “That was when I was weak. Human. I’m back to my old self now. I release you from your vow.”

Uraume is still bowing low to the ground. “My lord… you know you will always have my loyalty above all else, but you seemed quite desperate for her to be protected.”

Sukuna looks back at the woman, realizing she’s moved closer. She’s pressing against the force of his power to approach him. What could possess her to be so foolish? He decides to make it easy for her, by moving to her himself. His motion is so fast, it must seem to her like he teleported directly in front of her. 

Her eyes are wet with tears. “What’s happened to you?” she asks, her voice fragile. She reaches up one hand as if to touch his face. The nerve of this weak creature! 

He knocks her hand away from him and gives her the sort of glare that had monsters and men alike begging for their lives. “I’ve returned to my former self, to who I was meant to be. Your lack of fear and respect annoys me.”

She shakes her head, and the tears around her eyes glitter like stars. “I don’t fear you. I fear losing you.”

He narrows his red eyes. “I am not yours to lose.” 

She looks so hurt as she reaches up again. “Sukuna, please, I need you!”

He grabs her wrist, such a frail little thing. He could snap it with a touch, reduce her to a wailing lump of flesh at his feet. But he suddenly remembers the night before, the way he held her in his arms, the taste of her skin, the way she felt beneath him, the way she clenched his cock. 

Such things should mean nothing to him. He’s had thousands of women across his many lifetimes. But he releases her wrist and says, “Bow, and I might keep you as a concubine.”

Her eyes widen. Is that heartbreak within their depths? He almost grins. He can play with her as much as he likes later, after he establishes who the true ruler is.  

The hand he just released moves up again, but this time, her open palm strikes his face. The slap was so weak and unexpected, he didn’t sense its approach. For him, it was nothing. But the audacity! The insult! He looks at her, ready to rip her limb from limb, but he freezes when he sees her face. 

She’s wearing that haughty, defiant look that he enjoyed so much, crossing her arms as she says, “No, you bow!”

The whole thing is so shocking, he doesn’t know whether to laugh or slaughter her instantly. 

“You called me your queen!” she says. “You said you would protect me! You said I’m yours! If that’s true, then you’re mine as well. I won’t give you up so easily, even to your former self!”

He stares at her, at the fierce determination in her eyes, and he’s caught between the desire to break her for good or to pull her into his arms. His past self warring with the man he’s become over these long lifetimes. 

“Foolish woman. You have no idea who I am. Even the most powerful creatures trembled before me!”

“I don’t care,” she says. “That person you were, that king or ‘fallen one’ or whatever you called yourself… he can fuck off!”

Sukuna looks at her, at this weak little human who has somehow, against all odds, managed to bend him to her will. He remembers what he told the old fairy. “Power comes in many forms.” He hadn’t realized in that moment that the most powerful thing in all the worlds is something he’d long ago dismissed as worthless. 

He clenches his fist, feeling the power course through him for a final time, committing the sensation to memory. Then, he releases it. It flows out of his body like a waterfall, pouring into the world around him. And just like that, he’s human again. Weak. Normal. 

His queen watches the power dissipate, then wraps her arms around his neck. 

“I hope you know what I gave up for you,” he says. 

She leans in closer, kissing him as she says, “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

************************

You untie the laces of your nightdress, letting the silky sheer fabric fall from your shoulders and pool on the floor, revealing that you wore nothing underneath it. Sukuna’s eyes rake over your form from his place on the bed, sitting on the edge of it, already undressed, thighs open invitingly. 

As you step over to him, you look over his tattoos. “So they just appear on your body? In every new life?”

He follows your gaze to the black lines across his body. “They usually appear when I hit puberty. That’s when my memories of past lives come back as well. They’re probably supposed to be part of the curse, but I like them.”

“I like them too,” you say, tracing over one of them with your fingertip. 

“You always do,” he says with a strange smile. 

What does that mean? You decide to leave the question for now. There are others you want to ask. 

“So,” you say as he pulls you into his lap, “you were evil in your original lifetime?”

He grins as one of his hands slides around your body to squeeze your breast. “I’ve been evil in every lifetime, princess.”

You don’t mind him still calling you that, especially in intimate moments like this. You smile, planting quick kisses along his jaw and neck. “Really? What kinds of things did you do?”

“I killed a lot of people. More people than you can imagine.”

“Did they deserve it?”

His grin fades slightly. “Some did. Most didn’t.”

“Why did you kill them then?” 

“Because I could,” he says simply, looking you in the eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You think for a moment. “No, because you’re not that person anymore. And if he ever tries to take over again, I’ll chase him away.”

He watches you slip out of his lap and down to your knees in front of him. You maintain eye contact while reaching one hand up to grasp the huge cock standing at attention between his legs. You slide your hand up and down, just getting a feel for the sheer size of it. You lean forward and kiss the tip, sweetly, like it’s a cuddly pet, then lick the clear fluid that smeared over your lips. 

Looking up at him, you’re not surprised that he’s impossible to fluster in moments like this. Having memories of all his past lives means he probably remembers having his dick sucked thousands of times. But there is another way to get a reaction out of him. 

“I do hope you’ll dress appropriately for the royal wedding,” you say, just before taking almost his entire cock into your mouth, letting it slide down your throat. 

“Wedding?! Ah… fuck!” he groans, tossing his head back as you gag and sputter around his length. You’ve never done this before and you didn’t realize how hard it is to keep breathing while practically swallowing a massive cock. 

You pull away, stroking the shaft that’s now coated in your spit with one hand. “You’ll be king consort,” you say, then you extend your tongue and run it along the underside of his dick, from base to tip, one hand still stroking him while the other gently squeezes his balls. 

He looks down at you, his usual smug expression cracking just a little. “I don’t remember agreeing to marry you, princess.”

Your tongue is swirling around his tip. “Oh? I’m sure my advisers would prefer I marry a royal from a neighboring kingdom.”

Suddenly his hand is in your hair, pressing your head forward, effectively shoving his cock back into your mouth. You look up at him as he pushes into your throat again, choking you. “There,” he says in that achingly smooth voice of his, “you’re much cuter with that bratty mouth of yours full of my cock.”

You make a whimpering sound as you struggle to suck air in through your nose, and after a few seconds he releases you. While you pull back and catch your breath, he gives you an almost pouty look. “As if I’d let another man touch what’s mine.”

Grinning up at him as your hand goes back to work, you lick your messy lips and say, “Royal wedding it is, then.”

He sighs in defeat as you wrap your lips around him again. “I suppose I’ll do you the favor of marrying you,” he says as you move your head back and forth, letting his cock pump in and out of your warm mouth. “Be grateful. I’ve never married anyone in any of my previous lifetimes.”

This surprises you, and makes you feel heated to know you’ll be his first wife. His hand is in your hair again, gentle this time, just enough force to let you know he’s in control. And when he’s ready, he pulls you back so that only his tip remains in your mouth, and then shoots his load into it, coating the entire inside.  

The amount of it takes you by surprise, and you have to start swallowing quickly to avoid spilling any. Pity, you would have liked to savor it. 

He doesn’t offer his hand to help you to your feet. You’ll have to work on teaching him to be a gentleman. Instead he’s moving aside to give you room on the bed. When you climb on, he pushes you onto your back and positions himself between your sprawled legs. He reaches down with one hand and rubs over your slit with his thumb, checking your wetness, then drags your lower half into his lap. 

“Ready for me to turn this proud queen into a blubbering mess again?” he asks, his cock rubbing against your folds. 

You frown. “I did not blubber! I was practically uncon-“

His cock slides in, this time going all the way to the hilt on the first thrust, making you gasp as your eyes roll back and your body jerks. 

He nestles himself against your cervix, then pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, making you cry out pathetically. “What were you saying, princess?”

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Only stilted moans and garbled cries. He’s so big, and he’s going so deep, your mind is going blank just like before. 

“I like you best like this,” he says with a laugh, pounding into you ruthlessly. “So fucked out you can’t even think straight.”

His hands are on your hips, gripping tightly, moving your body as he pleases. “You like it right… here…!” he grunts, hitting a spot that makes your eyes go wide and your fists grip the sheets beneath you. Your mouth falls open, a strangled yell escaping you. Oh god, this is even better than last time! 

One of his hands moves over, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles into it, making your whole body tremble and tears fill your eyes. Is this going to be a regular thing now? Him making you completely fall apart on his cock? 

“There she is,” he says, watching you quiver and cry. “There’s my pretty princess. Not so haughty now, are you?”

The pleasure is so strong, so intense, you genuinely worry that you’ll lose your mind to it. But you look up at Sukuna, and you realize he’ll always bring you back. So you let go, let the pleasure take you, and cry out loudly as your climax wracks your body. 

“Good girl,” he says, pulling your upper half up from the bed and into his arms, holding you tightly as he fills your womb. 

As you come down from your high, locked in Sukuna’s strong arms, his cock still buried inside you, you realize that both of you had defeated your curses today. And maybe, you’ve both placed new curses on each other, that you’ll never be complete without each other, never experience such blinding pleasure, such love, if you’re ever torn apart. 

You wrap your exhausted arms around him, knowing you’ll never let him go, and he’ll never give you up. 

[tgmsunmontue]

Wild fields of forget-me-nots - 7/15

During the training for the mission Jake has an accident which results in him losing 10 years of memories.

A lot has happened in ten years. Bradley broke up with him. DADT was repealed. He got an air-to-air kill and a new callsign.

And he doesn't remember any of it.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

PART SEVEN

                “You’ll look after him out there right?”

                “What?” Javy asks, because he’s a little distracted by the fact that he’s in Bradshaw’s house. That he’s sharing with Jake. And he was right about it being a bombsite. And it smells of paint. Not that the smell seems to be bothering Jake, but Javy’s certain he’s going to have a pounding headache within a half-hour. And not only because it’s Jake who has given him a tour, because he’d admitted, accidentally, that he’s never been here. Jake had frowned at that, and Javy had just waved a hand, muttering about deployments and love nests and while it hadn’t completely erased the indentation between Jake’s brows it had stopped him asking outright.

                “I can’t be there to look out for him, so I need you to do it for me… he’s… something is bothering him. His mind isn’t on the mission ahead.”

                “Yeah. Maverick,” Javy mutters, because that whole situation is still weird. “You,” he adds.

                “Hmm. Maybe. He’s distracted. I’m worried…”

                “You’re meant to be resting,” Javy mutters, because Jake is meant to be resting, although he’s now talking about the colors they chose for the bathroom and he feels like he’s fallen into a DIY version of Punk’d, waiting for a TV crew to jump out any second and tell him it’s all been a joke. He doubts it but the surrealness of the entire thing makes him doubt his reality.

                “I am resting, trust me. So much rest. Bradley won’t even let me have my phone…”

                “Yeah. No screens…” Javy says, and that’s a fucking godsend of a saving grace, because the lack of photos or digital history would be a dead fucking giveaway. Although Jake doesn’t know anything about Facebook or Instagram, so maybe he wouldn’t have noticed anyway. Lucky him. Instead Bradshaw has gone and gotten some books and puzzles and what look like coloring books. He’d make fun of Jake for the childlike activities in his future if he wasn’t quietly freaking out about leaving and the mission ahead of them.

                They begin the arduous journey tomorrow, then they’ll be at their final destination. Maverick will name the final squadron, already narrowed down to eleven with Jake out of the running completely, not even travelling with them. Javy’s nervous, for himself, for his fellow aviators, for his friend being left behind with ten years missing in his memory.

                “Javy. We’re okay right?”

                “Hmm. What?” Javy asks, coming back to the bare room, covered in plastic with dust everywhere, paint buckets sitting around and obviously doubling as chairs.

                “Me and Bradley. We’re okay?”

                “Uh… why are you asking?” Javy replies, stalling. Bradshaw is out doing a grocery run, stocking Jake up with food for the few days they’ll be gone, almost a week. He hopes it’s all they’re gone for, and it’s not permanent. They all know it could go either way.

                “He’s just. Different. He’s acting like he doesn’t know me.”

                “Bradshaw?”

                “Yeah. And what’s with you calling him Bradshaw all the time?”

                Fuck.

                “Look. I know it’s confusing. And I know you want answers. More answers. But you really need to talk to Bradshaw. Bradley.”

                “When you said we’d had a fight and I was staying at your place… how long had that been for?”

                “Fuck.”

                “Hmm,” Jake muses, eyes narrowed and Javy shrugs helplessly. Wonders where the fuck Bradshaw is because he’s been gone nearly an hour, and this is all of his fucking fault. “Bradley said it had been a couple of days. This place makes me think it’s been longer… You know I’m going to figure it out, right?”

                “Yeah, and even if you don’t, we’ll lay it all out when we get back. Just… fuck,” Javy mutters, because Bradshaw saying he needed a reason to come back when they’re leaving for a suicide mission had hit him hard.

                “You know, you swear a lot more now… and I can tell you’re angry with him. Or upset with him. I just… did he cheat on me?” Jake asks, voice quiet. Javy doubts very much that Bradshaw has remained celibate in the last decade, but with the rings and old clothes and him not changing his NOK details… he’s got to stop being surprised at some point.

                “No. I might not like him very much right now, but… fuck. Pretty sure Bradley has to be one of the most loyal men I’ve ever met. He is stupid in love with you…” That’s all true and factual at least, hopefully allays some of Jake’s fears. You can’t cheat on someone if you aren’t technically with them, even if he suspects Bradshaw has had his heart all twisted up in knots over Jake since forever. “Look Jake. When you get your memory back this is all going to make sense. You need to rest and stay calm, and we need to focus on the mission and right now this is the path of least resistance. We will figure all the shit out. Okay?”

                “If I get my memory back.”

                “Nah man. When.”

                “Hmm. We’ll see I guess.”

                “Yeah. Sucks that it’s a waiting game. I know you don’t like that.”

                “No. So I’m thinking we had a bit more of a little fight. But… it’s like he’s scared of touching me.”

                “You almost died Jake. He’s pretty shaken up about it.”

                Fuck. He’s pretty sure if Bradshaw and Jake were actually married Bradshaw would have been pulled from the mission already, his emotional state called into question over Jake’s condition, which still involves dealing with the concussion symptoms.

                “Oh. Yeah. That sort of makes sense…”

                “Jake! Coyote! I’m back…”

                The immediate softening of Jake’s features, the smile that appears, has his heart sinking but he forces himself to smile, gestures for Jake to go ahead towards the front door and no doubt help Bradshaw with the domestic act of putting groceries away. He doesn’t like the lying at all, but the idea of causing more hurt right now makes him nauseated and he’s pretty sure Bradshaw is in the same boat.

EIGHT

[darlingofvalyria]

❝I never asked you to, you bumbling oaf.❞

[ Between advices and jealous-fraught fights, nestles your heart in red satin and ivory touch. Or, your marriage so far with the firstborn son of the King. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,901 ] | Aegon Targaryen II x Wife!Reader

contains— fluff & smutty - nsfw: oral (f receiving), p & v sex, creampie, breeding kink(?), - soft shit if aegon got to at least have a bit more agency lmao - jealousy - sorta angsty in the beginning but eh - your house is unnamed but you're a bad bitch - no use of y/n - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— it wasn't going to be a full smut, but aegon happened so here we are. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa!

Fraught might be a marriage arranged— cost and effect, weighed by titles and expectations of such matches made, emotion of either future spouse the least they weigh when they make their decisions — but you had grown to adore your husband.

You had been warned, of course. Gossip and small-minded chatter followed the firstborn son of the King. That despite the regality of Targaryen roots and colouring, he was a whoremonger, an addled-drunk, a monstrous caveat shrouded in dark green silk and iron.

You were called a victim, a damsel in distress meant to be saved before you had even met him. And yet not a single one of them batted an eye, much less offered a hand to rescue you from such turmoil. More than prepared to send you off. Others, of course, wishing for a prince to be married to their house, spit their scorn and irony.

The day you met him was a hot day. The sun basked the Crownlands with an almost venomous hatred, and it did not help your anticipation. Nor the long and arduous travel that turned the carriage into a hotbox meant to cook.

Your rear had ached in pain, almost as painful as your pinched cheeks that your grandmother had twisted unto your skin before you got out to meet the Queen, the Hand, and your betrothed, reminding you that a Princess Consort must always look her best, must appeal to her husband at all times "but must not be whorish! And sit straight, by the Seven, girl! Remember to exit gracefully! Like a swan, not a duck! Yes, there is a difference! Scamper your sarcasm!"— your gown was heavy, cinched tight and thick in beautiful fabric and small pearls and sapphires.

You had smiled prettily, bowed perfectly, and when you finally faced your betrothed, he was barely able to stand, pale as a sheet, and suffering from his cups the night before, sweat weeping on his brow.

It had sent a strike down your spine, irritation and anger spinning beneath pearly teeth. You bite down any word before they escape, forcing you to a perfect posture and a sharpened edge to your smile.

Aegon Targaryen, Second of his Name, had taken a step back, almost subconsciously, as fear flashed in his darling blue eyes.

Your good brother, having found out of this first interaction, had not stopped teasing your husband for the next few moons. Your good sister, you were told much later, had hummed wistfully, fingers dancing between rings as if she knew much more than anyone else, a small smile playing on the corners of her lips.

The memory makes you laugh now, warming your cold fingers against your first winter storm in Kings Landing. Snow torrents in whirlwinds and spikes, filling the Godswood in flurries and icicles.

Your Lady In Waiting, Emma Redwyne with her pretty Tully red hair and curled lashes that you had always found envy in, bows in greeting. You don't acknowledge her, which you recognise as nothing but pettiness, but you can't bring yourself to stop. You continue to stare forward, hand outstretched in the flurry of snow, when she awkwardly speaks.

"The prince is in your bedchambers, my princess."

You hum in acknowledgement, but no more. She shifts.

"He says he will not leave lest it is you who tells him so."

You turn to her, churlish in your expression of irritation and she winces, tucking her chin once more in false reverence before you sigh. The Lady Redwyne had been a friend once, an acquaintance really. Your grandmother had warned you that though you should have a good relationship with your ladies, it was best to keep them at an arm's length.

"Vipers and greed make stock in the centrefold of power, my dearest," she murmured, gnarled hands twinning your hair, a colour close to her own when she had been your age. You had been told you looked just like her, a gem in her era, her hand sought after by lords and princes alike before your grandsire made a weighty proposal to her house. "No matter what friendship you can build, all of it is but fat clouds and sandcastles. Pretty as they are, easily destructible by the next gust of wind."

"But they would be my ladies." The idea that the women closest to you should be kept with a good eye brought a weight to your chest. Trust is a hard thing to grasp in this place, you were fast learning.

You grandmother tutted, her hands cupping your chin, tilting upward until the same eyes met. One aged and knowing, another young and soon will understand the weight of life. Of the coat she bore with her husband's house in front of the Sept.

"Just watch and see, my sweet. Your future husband is a prince. They will try their damnedest. But you should not lose, for you are his wedded consort."

Now, your eyes linger on the cut of Lady Redwyne's gown. Far too revealing for the coldest touch of the year. The rogue in her cheeks, in her lips. There is a new necklace nestled on her bosom, no doubt an insistent gift from her father.

You wonder if your husband had stirred at the sight of her full visage. That if you had not been upset with him as it it, and have not abandoned your marriage quarters for three moons now, his fingers would have danced across her pale collarbones, fingering the dropped ruby at the centre of her throat. Pressing a light kiss on the gem.

The fornicated memory brings nausea and anger, but you are not new to your role, much less the greed of others, even those closest to you, so you strangled it with will.

If Aegon had dared to mock you anew while you were both in cold waters, he has been too aware now of your anger and what it means for him.

You look back at the peek of red leaves still attached to the tree, almost a stubborn refusal to move with the order of the gods, and you smile despite yourself.

"... My princess?"

Your annoyance spikes.

"And if I tell you to tell him that I will sleep in another chamber, mayhaps upturn a chamber meant for guests, will he then rot forever in my bedchamber?" You turn to her, eyebrow arched. "Will he not be accosted for leaving his duties undone? Must I treat him as a babe throwing a tantrum? Soothe him?" You step toward her. She flinches, a bird wanting to take flight but knows better than to move without her mistress' orders. "Or have you already tried so, to soothe the prince, and have been told to scram, to fetch me, for you are not his wife?"

Her eyes flutter, chest heaving. "My Princess, please—"

"Enough," you say primly, gathering your skirts. "Come to my chambers before dinner but no earlier. The only reason I haven't sent you back to the Reach is by grace and no more."

"My princess." She bows again and you don't miss the clenched jaw as you leave in a flutter of your bloodred gown and arched chin.

You have only just turned a corner when you hear a voice, soft and silky, familiar for many moons now.

"That was harsh of you, good sister."

You pause and spin, letting out a small laugh at the appearance of your good brother. Tall and princely in visage, he inclines his head in greeting while you bow.

"You are mistaken, my prince."

"Hm?"

You smirk. "That was kindness on my part."

He hums, fighting off a smile. Or what you think is a smile. Prince Aemond is still a mystery to you, but he is polite and you find yourself in good ease with your good brother. Unlike your husband, he wears his duty like armour and wield it like a sword. More than once, you are made to imagine what it would be like to have been married to him instead of your husband, and you blanche at the thought.

Though there is complications and evergreen misunderstanding with your husband at most turns, you cannot find yourself happy to the idea of being married to the One-Eyed Prince. There is nothing to say of his scarred appearance— as it does nothing but exemplify his gifted wielding of the sword, but being so honour and duty bound as you, it would be a cool, crisp marriage wheeled on routine and silent understandings.

A monotonous life might be a mercy to most, a dream to some even, but it brings hives to your skin at the mere idea.

Silent dinners and polite conversations are one thing. A marriage built on everything but... it would unsettle and madden your soul.

He offers his arm. "May I escort you to your chambers and my sad sack of a brother?"

You temper your giggle, taking his elbow. "I would be delighted."

Quiet pinches both of your measured footsteps, but you revel in its serenity. Maegor's Holdfast is stone and steel in the winters, fewer bodies lingering in corridors and corners to stave off into rooms with heat, but the rest that do are about, bow at your persons.

"I see you are adjusting well," he finally says. You turn, eyebrow arched. "As a princess consort of the realm."

"Was I so unprepared in my earlier moons?"

"In a way. Helaena says you are still comely and kind, despite being married to my brother."

"I am satisfied in my marriage, Prince Aemond," you say, unable to stop your raised hackles and need to defend your husband. "My duty to the realm is not strained in the least, and I... care for him."

He gives you a long look but you refuse his stare. He hums again, and whatever topic is breached is dropped. The quiet follows up until the doors of your chambers where he stops.

"Thank you for escorting me, my prince. I know your duties occupy your time."

"A duty of mine is to ensure my good sister is in safe hands." He gives a beckoning bow, notching an eyebrow at the door. "And I wish you ever happiness with your marriage to my brother, the Seven knows your duty is harder than mine."

Before you can retort, he is gone, and you are left with a sigh before you push through.

Though a prince, there is nothing princely of Aegon's sprawl on your bed. His gold, silver spun hair like a halo akimbo his face. Warmth emanates from the fire while he plays with his fingers atop his stomach.

"I thought you will ignore me once more, my wife," he speaks to the air, face still straight to the ceiling.

As you close the doors, a nod to your sworn shield, your straightened shoulders hunch as you relax. An unladylike snort breaking through the quiet. You don't see it, but Aegon smiles at the sound, a pang hitting his chest at the sound of comfort that he misses so.

"These are my chambers, husband," you say. "Unless you are meaning to kick me out of the Keep in total, I think my appearance in my own is not a totally shocking thought."

You sit beside him but do not lay down, giving him a good look as he stares up at you with a vacant expression. He is sober, in a way that there is a glassy sheen to his mullish blue eyes the colour of lightning and thunderstorms. His pallour is pale and his clothes are rumpled, but there is no near stench of wine or woman.

In fact he smells like Aegon on his good days; dragon and grime at the edges, soot and wind.

"I have not been to the Silk Street since we have been married," he says as if reading your thoughts. "I have not, and will refuse, to stray from our marital chambers." He gives you a poke. Like a child. "Unlike you."

You know he is telling the truth. He made the vow to you on your marriage bed, hands intertwined, fresh purple blooms appearing on your throat as he bore crescent shaped moons on his back.

You had to wear high-necked collars for two weeks. In the summers. It was impossibly awful, but the memory of your first night is one you cherish. What you go back to when tempers flare and sadness beckons in corners.

He had spent that first night worshipping you, ensuring you are more than sated before he had taken his own pleasure.

"But women who want you need not be whores to tempt you to their beds," you finish softly, unable to stop yourself as you take one of his hands to your lap, spinning the silver ring he keeps on his last finger.

"My wife, dearest to my heart." Your eyes flutter close at the endearments. It was a running joke to both of you, a joke that evolved with sincerity and... well, you hoped was love.

"I had tea with your grandmother, wife."

You looked up from your lunch, lips thinning at the joke and excitement nestled in giggles he was holding back. "Oh no. I knew I should have sent her back home the minute our vows were over."

He laughed then, taking the unoccupied seat across from you as he pressed his lips to your head. It made your heart flutter, even more so as he plucked a berry from your tart and offered it to your lips. He looked with insistence so you ate it. He pressed a thumb to your bottom lip before pressing a soft kiss to his own lips. You tried not to furiously blush.

"What has she told you?"

"Many a topic." He laughed again at your groan. Aegon had found himself enamoured with you as days past. Learning how you act less primly and more comfortable in his presence had brought him a good sense of happiness. Something he thought he lost forever. And he found, the happier he made you, the stronger the happiness in himself grew. It was an addicting feeling.

"But the prime idea were endearments."

"Endearments?"

"That a husband and wife with a pretty marriage such as ours, as we are royals, must show hope and perpetual peace for the people."

You frowned. "And... endearments give perpetual peace to the people how?"

"A show of the stability of our marriage. Of fondness. So now, I shall call you my dearly beloved heart."

You made a strange, strangling sound that had your husband giggling in surprise. "Pardon me, my prince. I—"

"Your precious honey bee."

"... Excuse me?"

"Babycakes?"

"Are you ill?"

"The darling of your eye, then."

You blinked. "Pardon?"

"What you call me," he teased.

"I refuse."

"You refuse?"

"Yes." You fought your own smile. "You are not the darling of my eye, and calling you thus, will make me a liar."

The pinched expression of jealousy made you bite your lip. "And who is, pray tell, the darling of your eye?"

"My grandmother."

You pressed your lips together. Aegon blinked in shocked. Then the both of you burst out in hard laughters, holding your chests and stomachs.

"We shall find an endearment for your beloved husband then," he announced after he had gasped for breath, dabbing the tears collected from his eyes. His smile enchanted you, wide and beautiful, upturned with a gaze as if he was beheld by the most darling of creatures. The urge to skip over him, drape yourself on his lap, and kiss him silly was an urge you pushed down.

"The... babe to my wondrous bosom?"

"Aegon!"

"So in counsel? That is not a definite no."

"My love?" he calls now, bringing your shared hands to his lips. "Lay down with me."

Before you can retort, he pulls you down to him until your warmth is shared, burning in a single flame. A sigh leaves your mouth, and the sound urges him to pull you impossibly closer.

"Women may find themselves in our bed, but unless they are you, they are nothing," he says after a minute. You tense up and he rubs your back. "I have made a vow."

"I will not hate you if you do. Anger is sordid, but I know my role. I know that is common practice for husbands, and as Princess Consort—"

He pulls you to him, your chest pressed against his as he held your face in his hands. His eyes are sad but his gaze is firm. "Your role as my wife does not mean you stay silent in your anger. Fight me. Make as much ruckus as you want. Tell Sunfyre to burn me to a crisp. You know as much High Valyiran as I at this point."

You laugh, forehead falling on his chest as you feel the burn in your eyes as tears escaped you. "I am no dragonrider."

A laughter rumbles his chest. "Could have fooled me," he teased.

"What?"

When you look up, he is smirking. "You've ridden me before."

"Aegon!"

He noses your jaw, kissing the edge of your chin. "The lemon of your tart, you mean."

"No, I do not." A sigh leaves you as his kisses turn into suckles, his hands holding you steady, rubbing circles against your skin.

"I think... I am fully forgiven now? For you have slept far away from me—" You yelp as he bites your ear, "— for too long a time. And for spending more time with my brother than you have of me in a while. Truly unfair punishment."

"He has only escorted me."

He flips you both, unlacing the front of your bodice with adept fingers while he leaves a trail of bites at every exposed skin. "While I wait by your chambers like a lovesick fool?"

"I never asked you too, you bumbling oaf."

He huffs a laugh, ripping down the front of your dress as you shriek, eyes meeting your own with a dark glint, before his hot mouth envelops your pert nipple. You keen.

"I am still a-angry with you," you sigh, running your fingers through his silver locks. When your body adjusts, seeking to pleasure the warmth between your thighs, he moves lower as if he can read your mind, read your wants, and when you make a roll of your hips right against his tenting manhood, his groan vibrates against your breast to your ribcages.

"I understand." He leans back on his hunches, smile sweet, before he shuffles around and underneath your dress, past your small clothes, and takes a slow swipe of his finger against your warm, wet folds. Your hips buck, a gasp leaving your throat, and he breathlessly laughs.

"Your beloved honey bee would like to taste the nectar between your thighs that you have so graciously held against me for so long."

You groan, suppressing a shiver as he holds your thighs steady with his own laughter. "The urge to kick you is strong, my husband. Enough to risk the Lord Hand's ire. And your mother's."

He groans, stilling in the midst of pushing your skirts up, he pops his head back toward you. "Please, owner my beating heart. The fire to my dragon. The lemon cake to my tea—

"— that one is your least creative one so far —"

"— Let us not speak of my mother, gods forbid, my grandsire, while I am between your legs. For the good of the realm."

"The good of the realm?" You scoff. Then yelp as he bites your thigh, soothing it with a lap of his tongue.

"Yes, my sweet, the good of the realm." He pops back to you, hair askew, eyes devilish, as he grins. "It is common knowledge that heirs are for the good of the realm. And I cannot bring you pleasure if you keep mentioning people I'd rather not imagine while doing so. And your pleasure, from what your grandmother had told me from our many afternoon teas, my sweetest, golden love, is important for my heirs."

Your giggles turn breathless when he disappears beneath your skirts once more. "I surrender then... apple of my tarts."

The sound of his giggles underneath your skirts soon grow muted against the sound of your pleasure. The thing about Aegon, is that pleasure is meant to be savoured. So as he slowly tears through your own clothes while he makes you reach your peak once, twice, thrice— your skin drenched in sweat, rose blush bloomed your face and neck, arms weakened and thighs unable to hold steady — you turn to your husband, the haze of your orgasm clouding any rational thought as you beheld him, still fully clothed with your juices on his face, a proud smirk twisted on his lips.

"Are you okay, beloved?" He rests a hand on your face and you nuzzle against him. "Shall I call for a bath now?"

"Later," you pronounce breathlessly. "If you do not find yourself inside me in the next second, I shall curse you for evermore."

He laughs, giving you a languid kiss before he steps back and strips.

He does not make a show of it, as harried and hard for you (no catching of his pleasure against the bed could ever compare to thrusting inside of you), and you watch his weeping cock with an unbashed hunger of your own, as he pumps it a few times, eyes staring at your visage as you widen your legs, holding your thighs to give him a sweet view.

He groans. "What Silken Street whore could be compared to my wife so willing? What lady would be enough?"

"I swear to the Seven, if you do not end your blasted soliloquy—"

His laughter rings, body covering your own before he slides in your warm, wet cunny. Blasphemy spills his tongue as a softened sigh leaves you. Though he is not lengthy, his girth stretches, thrilling the nerves up to your throat. The ease is given by your wetness, but he is slow, making sure you felt every ridge and vein until you cry softly at your abused pearl rubbing against his body.

"I will not last," he half spits, jaw clenched. "I will have to- I'm sorry but—"

"Do it," you whisper, locking your ankles on his ass as much strength as your legs can allow. "Pound me into the matress."

"Fuck," is the last thing he says before he follows your orders, each hit against your cervix building your own peak. "Pretty wife, darling pearl, the sexiest— fucking—" spills and spits between groans and cries, chasing his high brings your own.

"A-aeg, I—"

He kisses your mouth, effectively shutting you up as he slides a hand between your sweaty bodies, finding your pearl and circling hard. As soon as you're cumming to the high heavens, tightening and twitching, a garbled scream out of your throat— he slams once, twice, as his own high entangles your own, a punctuated moan breaking out of his throat.

His seed spurts, floods, before his cock turns flaccid inside you, and you feel warm and full underneath him.

He presses his forehead against your collarbone. "Maybe we should fight more oft, nectar of my obsession."

"Sure," you say. "I will spend more time with Aemond then."

He punctures a groan as you giggle.

[bowieandqueen11]

Leon Kennedy Being Protective Would Include...

Request: Hi there!! I saw you were open for Resident Evil requests, and I was wondering if I could request some angry headcanons of Leon being protective of an injured reader maybe?

Sure my lovely! I can't wait to see Death Island, I've missed seeing Chris and Jill together ;3

It's been a little while since I've written so forgive me if this is a jumbled mess, I'm trying :')

Warning: very very slightly spicy! Mentions of injury/blood and a little strong language!

(I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @halfwayriight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

I hope y'all don't mind I write for RE4 Leon because PHEW this man just keeps getting finer and finer please-

Being sent to rescue the President's daughter in a remote rural Spanish village wasn't exactly how you figured the few weeks after yours and Leon's engagement would go, but considering your track record you probably should have seen it coming. Ever since the two of you survived the horrifying events of Raccoon City nearly seven years ago, Leon had refused to leave your side for a moment. Wanted to run out and grab groceries while Leon had finally, after hours and hours of arduous training had crashed out on the couch? Too bad! The blanket you had tucked around his waist is soon flung to the floor, a sixth sense ringing in the back of his head that you were leaving, and soon you can hear the soft patter of his socks as he runs to pull his trainers on and follow out the door after you. Krauser wanted to match the two of you up with separate trainees during your sparring matches? Too bad! Leon mutters and argues with him in the corner of the training ground until he swings with a big grin over to you, using the session as an excuse to try and pin you to the wall, or the ground as often as he good, his thick bicep wrapping around the arch of your back until you were trapped impossibly close to his panting mouth.

I mean, he is a giant dork so be ready for a terrible, absolutely cheesy beyond belief one liner. His breath glances behind the shell of your ear as you try to squirm out of his grasp, but his bicep flexes tightly in time, keeping you squarely pressed up against his abdomen. The tip of his knife clashes against your own, propelling you backwards and only further into his eager hands. You should see his face: despite how hard and soul destroying he finds the agent training, the look of absolute delight that crinkles in the corners of his eyes and raises the edges of his usually sullen lips could rival the ferocity of the sun. That's the effect you have on him: enough to bring weaker men to their knees. Enough that he would travel through hell for eternity, relieve the nightmares he wakes up mewling from each night, if only to feel your heartbeat pressed up against his flushed skin.

'Well beautiful, looks like you're caught between a knife and a hard place.'

Although he moves with you, you can feel a slight bulge begin to form in his cargo pants anytime your hips pulse back against his own. 'And you, Rookie', you murmur out, enjoying the way his stomach seems to warm against you at the words: the way you can feel his heartrate spike. 'Should stop moving your mouth and instead look at your feet.'

His eyes widen in surprised horror as you use the heel of your right boot to kick out his feet from beneath him, legs flying up in the air as you use your weight to knock him onto the matt behind his ass. You can't help but bust out laughing at the way he lands on his back like a little bug, holding out a hand to help him back up. You should have known that wasn't going to happen from the shit eating grin that stormed across his face as soon as his fingers grasped against your own, but when you face planted into his neck, your legs bracing themselves by landing tightly around his thighs, neither of you were complaining. Well, until Krauser gave you both clean up duty for messing around, but it was well worth it.

As you're piling away stocks of boot knives back into their correct storage cases, you feel the soft bump of Leon's hip hit against your own; despite being berated in front of all your fellow agents, he was still glowing. You sigh, hitting the back of his shoulder. 'I must really love you, you know that?'

His face whips around, mouth dropping open in mild shock as he blinks at you. 'That reminds me, I haven't told you I love you today!'

'Leon, you did at breakfast, in the canteen remember? And in the changing room. And when I left to use the bathroom', you start to count on your fingers, ignoring Leon who's trying to pull at your hands and tug your attention back to him. 'And when we started clearing up!' He just ducks between your arms, starting to chuckle as he reaches up and presses a kiss to your forehead.

'Well, I still do love you. More than anything.'

When the two of you had received the orders for your current mission, Leon was more than relieved to be coming as your partner. It also meant, though, that during the whole drive up the rickety country lanes, your tired stupors gazing out at the knobbly branches and half-dead roots of the surrounding countryside were disturbed by your fiancée constantly checking up on you. I mean, for the last hour you could find his eyes burning blazing holes into the side of your face, he spent every moment he wasn't flicking through the case files glancing at you behind bowed, wispy eyelashes. It was a continuous thing: catching his reflection admiring you as his irises rolled over your face before back down to his lap with a hoarse cough.

From time to time, when the Spanish police offers here to 'help' and 'accompany you' and 'give you anything you need' in your rescue of Ashley distract him with their hunched together heads and incessant whispering, you'll find him reaching over with a soft exhale to grab the edges of your fingers. He finds it grounding, comforting, to absentmindedly latch onto your hand and fiddle with the engagement ring on your finger; half the time he doesn't even realise you're doing it until he turns to you with surprised eyes, feeling you give his knuckles a reassuring squeeze. You're more than happy to share the adoring smile he bashfully sends your way, sliding his hand into your lap and rubbing your pointer finger tenderly over the scars on his palm.

When the two of you are attacked after a tumultuous journey to the main square of the village, you can barely side step the chickens clucking between your feet before Leon's jumped in front of you like a flailing shield. With arms spread wide like a flapping bird and a torso stiff enough you're surprised the hatchets don't just bounce off his pecs, he matches your every step like a shadows sewed onto your toes. It's almost like watching acrobatics, or more likely a circus act as you try your best to aim past Leon's head while he simultaneously uses his knife to stop a pitchfork from slamming into the side of your head. He's constantly dragging you over the shattered glass of window edges, kicking down ladders and pushing you behind him as he swoops his head out of the way of the oncoming chainsaw. Or worse, he uses his own body as a shield when the two of you have to jump off the roof of a hut you had become very conveniently stuck on, tucking you into his chest like a koala bear and rolling the two of you safely to a stop in a very stinky puddle of mud. He refuses to let you go until the Church bells stop ringing, and only then because he's nearly suffocating you with how tightly his arms are squeezed around your head.

On the lake, Leon is more than willing to let himself drown if it means saving you. When Del Lago tips over your rickety little raft, sending the two of you tumbling down into the imperceptible depths with a loud crash, alarm bells immediately start ringing in Leon's ears. He's not entirely sure if it's the shock of the freezing cold waves, or the way his whole body is nearly convulsing, doubled over in wracking shivers as he swims down into the deep to try and find you, but he manages in just the nick of time to grab onto your wrist and pull you out of the way of a set of mammoth gnashing teeth. He clumsily places his palms flat against the bottom of your ass, and nearly knocks the breath out of himself with how harshly he shoves you back into the boat in one fell swoop; so forcefully, in fact, that he nearly sends you ass over heels tumbling over the other side again. Your surprise is short lived, though, when you grab onto the edge of the rocking wood and peer over to see the fringes of Leon's hair floating almost serenely on the water's edge as he's dragged under.

Once you manage to haul him back up, you grit your teeth as he lands unceremoniously on your lap and clambers into a sitting position. Although he's trying his best to look calm, you can tell by the way he winces his head when you touch his knee that he's injured: the droplets of crimson that adorn your fingertips like the ink of a bleeding heart only consolidates the fact. You do your best to staunch it with your hand, reaching behind you with the other to try and steer the rudder over into the dock of a half collapsed-roof shelter, only to be distracted by the weight of Leon's torso resting against your heart. He literally does not give two shits about the fact that there's a pool of watery blood thrumming in time to the engine's hum as you drive forward, too busy cupping your cheeks with those fervent, gloved hands. His eyes are so wild, and oh so terrified as he checks you over, tilting your chin this way and that way as if to reassure himself. He's beginning to blink rapidly: an early sign that the trauma of your shared past is flooding into the locked away crevices of his head, and he's starting to panic.

His mouth blubbers open and shut, eyes falling sternly as he tries to stop himself from crumbling. As his shaking thumbs wipe some damp hair away from your eyes. As he stares deep into your eyes, the crying rookie you knew years ago locked behind his marred gaze. As his bottom lip trembles, like a man who nearly just lost everything... again.

'Are you alright?', he finally manages to choke out, as if the words are poison seeping out from the corners of his lips. He's terrified to say them: to know the answer, and yet he swallows thickly and repeats the question. 'Are you okay? Tell me your alright. Please.'

'Leon, sweetheart, I need to get the gauze out of my pack to try and stop your leg from falling off', you huff out with an exasperated light-heartedness, trying to make your fiancée smile again. Or in the least, loosen his grip on your cheeks so he didn't leave bruises. You knew what he was doing: back when the two of you were trapped within the enclosing walls of the Raccoon City Police Department, any time the two of you were separated, it would be the first question out of his mouth. His feet barely had time to stop themselves sliding across the floor, the hard material of his body armour nearly slamming into your chest as he wildly asked you. 'Are you alright?' Any time a licker grabbed at your ankle, any time an infected civilian pounced out of an unilluminated doorway to sink their teeth into the sweet flesh of your neck, as soon as the gunshot had finished reverbing through your head it would be the next thing you would hear.

'Are you okay?'

These days, the question usually fell into the night: a broken cry through the imposing isolation of twilight. When he would shoot up in bed, nearly scaring the wits end out of you until you realised what was going on. Glancing out into the dim shadows, you would blink languidly as Leon's hunched back, the juttering of the mattress quickly alerting you to the fact that he had his head tucked down into his hands, his hunched back tense as he cried. As you would sit up to rub at his back and guide him back down to bed, to rest his head down on top of you, his hands would scramble desperately until they reached yours. His bloodshot eyes were enough to send a jolt of fear spiking through your heart as his mouth fell open in heart-wrenching sob. 'Are you alright - are you alright? Are you real?'

It was almost enough to break you.

'Please, Y/n. I need to hear you say it.' Your drawn out of your thoughts by the feel of something damp landing on your fingertips. Leon was doing nothing to wipe them away, and so you finally relent and glance your eyes up to him. Soggy, shivering, a frown horrid enough to drive the devil out of hell, and wet eyes shining like fresh dew, the man arched before you was an enigma of multitudes. You could spot that frightened young boy in him, the one who had flushed crimson any time you had offered him his hand back at Raccoon City, lost somewhere within the hardened lines of the agent he had been berated to become.

You do the only thing in that moment the cogs in your brain can process: you pull him in for a hug. He falls easily against you, weightily, and you notice that he's not holding anything back as he rests the jut of his chin on your shoulder. He lets his hands fall until they're enclosed beneath the brackets of your arms, trying to squeeze his eyes shut and stop himself from whining when he feels the soft shapes you begin tracing over the wide expanse of his damp back.

And then you pass out? And Leon realises that you're infected too? That fear, that anguish he held in his heart suddenly revolved into fresh fury that coursed through every vein in his body. For a moment, as a cold shiver rolling through your tired body wakes you up, you can't figure out for the life of you where you are. Splintered wood seems to be scraping against the back of your legs, your hazy mind nearly lulled back to sleep by the sound of water gently lapping against the edge of the planks. It's only when you feel your head shift that you realise you're lying on Leon's thighs, whose looking down at you like the most heavenly cherub you've ever seen. He's biting his bottom lip, obviously conflicted, until he notices your awake and suddenly you're being tugged up as if you're a ragdoll. Before you can even say anything, Leon's pressing a dozen little pouty lipped kisses against every free inch of your face: drawing his bottom lip quickly over every line of cells that only a couple of minutes ago were tainted black with tendrils.

From then on, he tries not to show it. He tries not to belittle you, knowing you're as fully trained and even more competent than he is, but you're not stupid. You know Leon far too well, far too intimately, far too familiarly and easily for that. You notice the extra little touches here and there: a tighter grip by your hip bone when he gives you a lift up onto ledges, a clenched fist on your shoulder as he goes first through unlatched gates, magnum drawn at the ready as he points the red laser sight down into the cavernous mounds above the fish farm. The swifter, more intense glances whenever he notices you squeezing your fists shut, fingernails digging in and drawing blood as you try to stop the Plagas from burning up your forearm.

It's not until you reach the Castle's drawbridge that Leon's fury really starts to become physically visible. Even though Salazar had only been monitoring the two of you for a couple of hours, he was sharp enough to realise that Leon would raze the whole crumbling heap of a place to the ground if it meant keeping you safe. So what does he do? Clouds your mind, makes you a passenger to your own actions. As soon as your boot lands on the rubbled stones of the courtyard, Leon's swooping his head back as the point of your knife comes dashing towards his face, slicing a thin line across his eyebrow. He doesn't even blink as he races over to grab your arm, trying to pull you back against him as he had all those times in training, only to be met by your wicked grin. He was too slow: just out of reach as his gloved hand reaches out and shudders in horror as he watches you jam the tip of your knife into the soft skin of your side.

The wound is shallow, but it's enough to knock you out for the count. And for the rest of his life, Leon will spend every moment of every day blaming himself for it.

This man 100% gives you a piggyback, running like a wild mare through the bowels of the castle's barracks. He doesn't even seem to notice that a giant ass ogre is throwing huge boulders at his face, not even seeming to care as he leverages the full force of his body to kick out and send another hooded cultist tumbling over into the unfathomable abyss below. He doesn't even break a sweat as he uses his elbow to break the weight holding down the cannon, gripping onto the back of your thighs with clawing fingernails, as if he were trying to crawl into you, or die trying.

Once he's sure the two of you are safely within the Castle walls, he finally manages to catch Luis on his comms. Although you can't hear what he's saying, his knife edged tone cuts through the air as he mutters angrily, his shoulders hunched and tense. You piece together from where you're writhing in pain against the wall that he's 'persuading' Luis in a mildly threatening manner to meet the two of you in the cellars instead of the ballroom.

Luis steps back in surprise when he sees the two of you, not prepared to find Leon holding the agent that had nearly knocked him ass over heels a few hours ago being held bridle style in the man's arms. Leon refuses to let Luis carry you, and so the two finally compromise by you staying tight against Leon's chest, and Luis leading the two of you into a safer area deeper within the winding corridors of the ornate halls.

He surprisingly manages to lead the two of you into a tucked away little alcove by the main staircase with little trouble, beckoning Leon to place you down on one of the velvet chairs so he could clumsily try his best to patch you up. He keeps getting disturbed though, and you notice him getting more and more wound up by the way Leon peers over his jacket and watches his every movement like a buzzing wasp. You try to calm him down by reminding him that Ashley is the priority here, not you, but he just waves you off and crosses his arms with a grim frown. He turns instead to pace the eggshell carpet, distracting his mind by keeping watch.

You know he's worried. You know he's battling an unrooted anguish festering deep within his soul. That's been eating away at him for years. You know he's stressed, that he's sorrowful, that behind his tough exterior he spends his whole life feeling guilty. You know it reminds him of that day back in Raccoon City, when you had taken a bullet for him down in the sewers and he thought he had lost you for the first time. But you just couldn't find the right words the say. Couldn't find the right sentence to comfort him, to offer solace to his shuddered heart, to comfort the joyous kid you know he suffocates. To remind him that you're still here... and so is he. To force him to understand that everything that has happened to you, to him, none of it has been his fault. That he's a victim of circumstance, of it all, just as much as Ashley has been.

But why? Why oh why can't you tell him? Why can't you remind him of all the goodness that came after: how the threat of loss and the scent of death had been eclipsed, lulled into a type of serenity on that sterile cable car? When Leon had nearly jumped over the railings, just managing to slip through the closing doors in time to sit down on the bench next to you.

'You really think you can get rid of me that easily', he had murmured with a hoarse chuckle, but he looked like he was doing his best to choke back tears at the thought of you, thirty minutes ago on death's door, going down to face the dangers of the labs below. Thirty minutes ago, he had been on the brink of giving up as he had wrapped his gore stained jacket around your shoulder, and rushed headfirst into danger. He had been ready to let Mr. X to find him. To crush him. To end it all, at the thought of having to live without you.

He looked tired. God, he had looked so tired, as he awkwardly perched next to you. His lashes lazily blinked the tears back as he bashfully switched between checking his gun was loaded and fiddling with his fingers, unsure as how to start. Unsure as how to unload all the feelings that were stomping down on his chest, kicking up at his lungs and forcing a breathless exhale to leave him.

'You need to come with a warning sign you know, the amount of heart attacks you've nearly given me', he finally starts, mustering up the courage to glance his eyes sideways and look at you.

'Well, when we get out of here-'. He winces, and you grab tenderly onto the top of his hand. 'When we get out of here, I'll just- I'll have to make it up to you.' He smiles then, and you relish in the feeling.

'Oh yeah? How are you going to do that? 'Cause I was about to ask you out, but now you've done my job for me yet again I want to see what you've got planned.' You turn your head away and flush, and his heart swoons.

'How about... shakes and fries? I know a great place on 24th street-'. Before you can get your tangled mess of shaking words out, you're stopped by the pressure of Leon's plump lips gingerly pressing against your own. He pulls away quickly, bashfully nearly doubling in on himself like a tortoise retreating into its shell as he realises what he had impulsively done, chiding his body as his cheeks burn like lava. You watch him, mouth slightly agape but mind blank, and he thinks he's ruined everything until you lean forward and kiss him again.

You thump your head back against the crest that ran around the wall, wincing as you began to feel a headache snake around your temples. A final tug against the knotted bandage wrapped wonkily around your abdomen draws you out of the warm clutch of your daydream.

'You know', Luis starts with a smirk, and you can just tell he's about to teasingly cause trouble. 'Usually in the fairy tales, when the brave knight in shining armour helps the princess, he gets a kiss for his trouble.'

'You're about to get my foot in your mouth for your troubles', Leon growls out from where he's leaning against the banister.

'Thank you', you tell Luis seriously, giving his hand a tight squeeze as he removes it from your waist with a satisfied hum.

'This should hold until we get down to my lab. All my equipment should still be there, unless they've burned the place to the ground already, of course', he replies with a wink in your direction.

He could tell that Leon was growing more and more peevish, so Luis very astutely and very shrewdly decided to give the two of you some space. He tugs at your hand, pressing a final kiss against your knuckle before cocking his head and giving you a salute, spinning around on one heel. He swaggers off, using his shoulder to shove open one of the wing's doors, before peering in and allowing himself to be shrouded by the darkness within.

Leon won't even look at you. You can feel the self hatred literally seething off him like steam.

'You can't lose me that easily, you know?'

That makes him stop in his tracks. He slowly spins round, the frown hardening his face softening into a fond smile as he watches you struggle to a stand. You close the distance between the two of you, cupping his cheek and trying desperately to make him believe you. 'You won't lose me. You know how stubborn I am. I won't allow it.'

For the first time since the two of you had left your apartment a couple of days ago, Leon cracks a smile. You do the only thing you can do in that moment: you reach forward like he did all those years ago and kiss him, your mouth drawing over the salty tears beaded on his upper lip line. You pull away with a pop, and Leon looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, all the tenderness in the world pouring out from his heart and melting out of his pores as he grips onto your elbows.

'You promise?' His voice is harsh, but vulnerability trembles between the gaps of every word as he traces the stretch of skin where your engagement ring lies.

'Every minute of every day, Rookie. You know why? Because I love you more than anything.'

'Hey, that's my line!'

[moonselune]

Hey! I see some players think that Astarion changes in his tone when Wyll declares himself a duke (our bat boy loves power so much hahah). So, can you write about what would happen if Astarion found out that his beloved fem Tav is a rich aristocrat? 🤭 Have a good day! xx

Ahahahaha I had so much fun writing this and I hope you have a wonderful day !

Astarion x F!reader | Nobility

You and your companions finally reached Rivington, the outskirts of Baldur's Gate, after a long and arduous journey. The bustling village streets were alive with activity, but something unusual caught your attention. There, waiting in the town square, was a gilded carriage adorned with the insignia of a prestigious noble house. The horses, meticulously groomed, stood proudly, and the liveried footmen were perfectly polished, ready to serve.

Astarion's eyes widened as he took in the sight, a mixture of confusion and amazement crossing his features. "Darling," he began, turning to you, his tone incredulous. "What on earth is this?"

You took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable reaction. "That," you said, gesturing to the opulent carriage, "is my family's carriage. I believe I have been summoned to Lord Gortash's coronation."

Astarion blinked, clearly flummoxed. "Your family's carriage? And who exactly is your family?"

"I'm an aristocrat, Astarion, a Lady to be more precise" you admitted, looking at him with a mixture of guilt and determination. "I didn't think it mattered."

"Didn’t think it mattered?" he echoes, incredulous. "You’re an aristocrat, and you didn’t think it mattered?"

Lae'zel and Karlach, standing nearby, exchange amused glances. Karlach's hearty laugh breaks the tension. "Guess you’re not the only one with secrets, fangs."

Astarion ignores her comment, his attention solely on you. "You do realize you’ve deprived me of the joy of knowing I was courting a lady of wealth and status?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. You walked towards the carriage, talking quietly to one of the footmen. Astarion relaxed, believing that at least now he would be able to enjoy some luxury on this forsaken journey. But then he sees you shake your head and begin to lightly argue with the footman. You then abruptly turn away from them and walk back to the group.

"I have told the carriage to go, we will continue on foot." You announced to the group and Lae'zel and Karlach nodded happily, eyes fixed on the vampire who seemed to pale more than they thought was possible.

"You… you’re refusing the carriage? Are you out of your mind?" Astarion’s jaw drops in disbelief. He turns to Lae'zel and Karlach, seeking their support. "Am I going crazy, or is this utterly absurd?"

Karlach shrugs, grinning. "Personally, I prefer roughing it. Keeps things interesting."

Lae'zel nods, "Luxury breeds softness. Hardship breeds strength."

Astarion still looks at you outraged, demanding an answer for your ridiculous behaviour, and you sigh, "I don't like showing off my wealth. It draws unnecessary attention and separates me from the people we're trying to help."

"You don't like showing off your wealth?" He gestured dramatically to the gilded carriage, that was still lingering in case you had changed your mind. Though Astarion now looked like he was about to lose his. "Do you know how many people would kill for the chance to ride in something like this?"

Before you could even respond, Astarion started towards the carriage with fervour. "Well, if you won't show it off, I will! Imagine the envy we'll inspire! The-"

You quickly grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "-Astarion, no."

He huffed, clearly frustrated, and crossed his arms, sitting down on a nearby rock, like an upset child, grumbling to himself. "I can't wait to tell Shadowheart about this. She'll have a field day."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the situation, you crouched down to his level, holding his hands as he pouted. "Astarion, I understand you're upset, but this doesn't change anything between us. I'm still the same person you fell in love with."

Astarion sighed, his anger giving way to exasperation. "Fine, fine. But I reserve the right to be upset about this for a while."

You chuckled, cupping his face with your hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Fair enough."

Karlach watched the exchange with amusement, however, Lae'zel looked upon it with impatience. "Are we done with the theatrics? We have more important matters to attend to."

"Yes we are," You smile and stand up, pulling a begrudging Astarion up with you, "lead the way!"