#SEVERAL TIMES I HAVE TO PAUSE THE SHOW AND JUST WHISPER what the fuck TO MYSELF

[ashonheavenscloud]

honey || s. eric

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ contents: sohn eric x fem!reader, established relationship, smut (minors dni!), starts very very soft and gets very very flithy LOL, yes this is self-indulgent and i will not apologize

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ word count: 2.7k

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ warnings: explicit 18+ content, switch!eric, swearing, unprotected sex, oral (m. rec), shower sex, praise, eric sohn (he deserves his own warning)

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n: this has been in the drafts for WAY too long and i just decided to finish it in the back of my class (yes i'm insane)

now playing - over and over - jimmy brown, rovv; sip sip - jimmy brown, rovv, sweet the kid; everyday - jimmy brown ft sweet the kid

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

From the moment you wake up in the morning, sun peeking through the blinds, the world outside made brighter by almost a foot of snow piled on the ground, Eric is suffocating you.

His arms are wrapped tightly around you from behind, head pressed to your back, legs tangled with yours beneath several thick blankets. It’s not unlike Eric to be clingy, but it isn’t just affection keeping him extra close—you can tell when you shift and he tightens his hold on you, shivering at the cold air your movement lets into the blankets. In response to your body moving around, Eric pulls you back to his chest, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t go.” He whispers, voice hoarse. He must have just woken up, too.

“I’m not.” You softly promise, and Eric hugs your body somehow closer to himself, arms crossing your stomach to hold your waist, legs tangling with yours, pressing a light, almost unnoticeable kiss to your shoulder.

You lay with him there in silence for a few moments, senses sharpening as you wake up fully. Every minute or so, Eric presses a kiss or two along your back, making you sigh in content. There really isn’t a better way to spend lazy mornings than with him.

You shift again, and Eric whines when the movement lifts the blankets and lets in frigid air. But he loosens his hold enough for you to turn and face him, getting a good look at his sleepy eyes and disheveled state. You note, heart melting a bit, that he wore his favourite faded grey University of California sweater to sleep in an attempt to keep himself warmer, hood pulled over his messy brown hair. He’s so cute it makes your brain short circuit when he opens his eyes, meeting your gaze and letting his head slump onto your shoulder. “It’s so cold.”

“It’s January.” You whisper back, and he whines. 

“It’s -10 F, I don’t care what month it is.”

You laugh softly, and Eric’s mouth twists into a half smile at the sound. Slowly, his cold hands find yours and intertwine your fingers together. You watch affectionately as he lifts your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles tenderly in a way that has your heart skipping a beat. And when he pauses to look at you with a small, teasing smile, you know he’s doing it on purpose to make you flustered. Which only makes your stomach do several more backflips when he holds your gaze and presses a lingering kiss to your palm. 

“Your hands are so cold.” He comments, kissing the tips of your fingers, successfully making your heart melt for the nth time this morning.

“So are yours.” You whisper back and he groans.

“I know, it’s fucking freezing.” 

You laugh gently, holding up your joined hands and following his lead, pressing a couple kisses to his icy fingers. When you look back at him, his mouth is spread in a smile, eyes absolutely full of adoration. Eric is always very attentive to you, preferring to show his love for you through thoughtful actions rather than words, so when you make the effort to return one of his loving gestures, he falls for you all over again. 

“My nose is really cold, too.” He says automatically, hoping you’ll get the hint. You smile, dropping his hands to cup his face with your palms, planting a kiss, then another on the tip of his nose, tinged pink- and he’ll refuse to say whether the colour is actually from the cold or from your lips on his skin, your soft giggle in his ear, your warm breath on his cheeks.

His next sentence comes out breathless. “My lips, too.” 

Laughing, you meet his lips with yours, and Eric all but melts against your mouth, hands bracing on your stomach, then bunching your sweater in his fists. Your brain turns to static as he curls into you, kissing you slowly for what feels like a minute and an hour at the same time, before you pull away. 

“Better?” You ask, teasingly.

Eric’s eyes take a second to focus on you, dazed and sparkling. He breathes out a short laugh, mumbling, “getting there,” before tilting his head to reconnect your lips with his. One hand reaches to hold your face close to his, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling his own mouth lift in a grin. 

You let the seconds blur into streaks of muted colours, Eric’s thumb applying light pressure on your jaw to tilt your face closer to his as he kisses you slowly, pulling on your bottom lip in a way that has your stomach twisting into knots. His other hand has slipped around to the small of your back, pressing your body to his- and you’re certain this time, it isn’t for warmth. Your hands slide up his torso, finding warmth under his sweatshirt and over his stomach and making Eric gasp at your frigid fingers on his skin.

“Don’t see how that helps keep me warm.” He whines against your lips, to which you loop your fingers under his waistband and tug his hips close to yours.

“What if I had a better idea?”

Eric’s eyes flicker open to look into yours. His smile is crooked as he nudges your nose with his. “What’s that?”

As a response, you kiss him, teasing his lips with the tip of your tongue, and leaving him chasing for more when you pull back with a smile. “Meet me in the shower in ten?”

Eric doesn’t need a sales pitch; he’s already halfway out of bed. “How about five?”

…

It actually only takes two minutes for Eric to have the shower running, steam instantly fogging up the room from how warm he’s cranked the water to battle the way you both shiver after undressing. However, you refuse to be charbroiled and adjust the water to a reasonable temperature before joining him under the stream. The shower offers plenty of space, easily taking up half of the room with dark tiles, a rainfall showerhead and several ledges with bottles, soap and other items - but that space is basically useless when Eric immediately pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You feel his smile against your skin as he murmurs into your ear, “This feels familiar.” 

You laugh softly when he kisses your shoulder, before you turn in his grasp. “So does this,” you take his hands, gently kissing the tips of his fingers before tilting your head to kiss his nose, “and this.”

It’s ridiculously endearing that no matter how many times you kiss him, he still blushes bright pink. It spreads from his cheeks to his neck to his chest, and you follow the same trail with your lips, pressing kisses to his shoulder, honey skin covered in beads of water from the steam. His hands have a light hold on your hips and he sighs, head falling sideways onto your shoulder. 

Your hands slide down his shoulders to press against his chest, allowing you to carefully push him backwards until his back hits the cold tile, making him gasp. His hands tighten on your hips as yours wind through his damp hair, your parted lips finding his. The softest moan falls from Eric’s lips as you kiss him slowly, hands flat on his chest, body pressed against his. His skin is burning under your touch as you trail your fingers down his abdomen, nails gently scratching and making Eric tense with a whine as your hands move to his hips, caging them to the wall. When your lips part from his to look at him, his eyes are heavy lidded and his cheeks are painted pink. His gaze flickers as he leans in, as if he can’t help it, like a magnet pulls his mouth to yours. He pauses to look at you through wet lashes, lips hovering a breath away from yours. “Don’t stop.” He murmurs desperately, fingers digging into your skin, keeping you close.

“Not planning on it.” You whisper in return, giving him a smile that he mirrors when you press your lips back to his momentarily. Then you pull away and do something he doesn’t expect, sliding your hands down his thighs as you get to your knees.

You keep your gaze on Eric’s face, watching his eyes grow wide and his skin flush a more violent pink hue. His hands are frozen in place where your hips had been seconds ago. You smile; if such a simple action as you kneeling can cause him to malfunction, you’re not sure how long he’ll be able to handle you actually giving him head, especially this early in the morning. You carefully reach to hold his hardening dick in one hand and gently run your nails over the length; instantly, Eric’s body tenses and he draws a sharp inhale through his teeth, a small sound that balances delicately between a whimper and a moan echoing from his chest. His arms cross his chest, hands holding opposite shoulders in an attempt to distract himself from your teasing, fingers digging into the skin as you repeat the action, lifting his dick and dragging your fingers down to the tip. This time, he definitely moans, and loudly.

“Ah—shit—” 

The stream of short, breathy whines that follows is a direct result of your mouth pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to his erection. You drag your tongue along his length and Eric is unsuccessful in his attempt to mask a loud, drawn out moan as his head falls back. Bracing your hands on his thighs, you part your lips and wrap them around the tip of his cock, eyes never leaving Eric’s face. He can’t seem to look back at you, pupils blown out and unfocused, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. When you take his length deeper into your mouth, seated heavily on your tongue, Eric sucks in a breath, hands flying from their place on his shoulders to the wall behind him, palms pressed flat against the tile.

“O-oh my god, baby—” his following whine is breathy and strained, only encouraging you to take him in further, teeth slightly dragging along his length. His mouth drops open as pleasure pulses in waves through his body, eyes rolling as he shallowly bucks his hips with a muffled whimper. “Sorry, sorry—” 

You look up at him through your lashes, and his voice breaks off with a whine as you suck in your cheeks. His knees nearly buckle, hands curling into fists as he fights to urge to move again. 

“God-” he drags out the word, head tilting back to expose his flushed neck and chest, glistening with perspiration. “F-feel so good, fuck, you’re so good—”

Eric’s rambling is proof of just how good you’re making him feel, and you take pride in the desperation that clings to each word he manages to get out between whiny breaths and choked moans. You pull back slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside of his dick before moving back, taking more, grazing your teeth over the sensitive surface. Eric’s hips lift again, thighs trembling as he speaks, “Like that, like that— oh—”

You repeat the movement several times, sucking slowly with every bob of your head. Eric only gets louder, moaning and whining as you apply greater pressure with your mouth to bring him closer to climax. His dick pulses, heavy on your tongue, and he ruts his hips with a low groan, eyes flickering and head bowing. “G-God, baby, I’m close…”

You hum in encouragement, swirling your tongue purposefully over his tip, but immediately Eric’s hand flies to your chin, holding you still before you can continue.

“Ah- wait, wait,” he pants out, dazed eyes finding yours with desire so palpable you could touch it on his skin. His thumb slides across your jawline, coated in condensation. “I wanna come inside you, honey…” he murmurs, and heat swims through your body at his request. “Please? Can I?”

Nodding quickly, you stumble to your feet with the help of Eric’s hands on your elbows, standing before him with rolling anticipation in your gut. He takes a second to pause and tuck loose, wet strands of your hair behind your ear, eyes never leaving yours, lust swimming through them so clearly you can feel yourself pulled closer to him, a gravitational tug that forces you forward until your lips hover next to his. 

You can see in his dark irises the moment he breaks.

“Come here,” Eric pleads, grabbing your waist and pulling you directly to him. Your body curves into his and your mouth latches back to his, hands winding behind his neck and threading through his hair. He groans in relief at your touch, and guides your hips to press against his. Stumbling slightly, he spins you, holding your body up against the cold tile. You grab at his shoulders as his kisses move to your neck, mouth latching to your skin, teeth nipping to leave dark bruises along his path. One hand of yours slips down his abdomen, tracing his toned, tensed muscles before clutching at his leaking dick. Eric’s head drops into your shoulder with a moan against your skin as his body shudders, hips canting. Before you know it, he’s lining himself up with your pussy, rubbing through your soaked folds, murmuring, “ready?” And with a nod of assent from you, he’s sliding carefully into you. 

The stretch makes your eyes roll back as you clutch onto Eric’s shoulders, head falling back onto the tile wall as he hisses and curses under his breath, rutting his hips to bury himself inside you. You can feel him pulsing, and it feels so fucking good. Your mind is spinning, skin slick with condensation and sweat from the steam of the hot shower and the arousal in your veins. You can barely even form his name, repeated like a prayer on your tongue as he eventually bottoms out, leaving you feeling dizzy and seeing stars. Eric’s faring even worse, head falling into your neck, heavy breaths and whimpers hot on your skin, body shivering over yours, skin flushed and hot to the touch.

“You’re fucking perfect—” his grip on your hips only tightens as he begins to thrust. Hardly a minute passes before he’s moving faster, desperate for friction. “Shit… feel s’warm, s’good,” he chokes out between moans, and you respond with your own sounds of pleasure, reaching to grab his face and forcefully pull his mouth to yours in a passionate, open-mouthed kiss. The assertive action nearly makes Eric lose it then and there, but if there’s one thing Eric’s ego can’t take, it’s coming before you do. He frees one hand enough to move it to your clit and rub, immediately turning your legs to jelly and causing your pussy to squeeze around him.

Eric mouth falls open against yours in a beautiful moan, “Fuck, baby.”

“There, there-”

Tension only builds in your gut, and eventually you’re both trembling against each other’s bodies, spent and seconds from your highs. 

“C-close-” you moan, hands slipping down his arms to grip his biceps, feeling the firm muscles under your touch, tensing with each thrust that’s growing shakier with each moment. Your head is spinning, and all you can feel is heat, and Eric’s slick skin and his hot, trembling breath on your face.

Voice laced with desperation, Eric whispers on your lips, “Come for me, baby.”

And you do, letting the knot in your gut come undone with a moan, head falling back as white floods your vision and your high washes through you in a rushing current of pleasure. With a strained, high pitched groan, Eric follows suit, tensing and releasing, filling you up with several deep thrusts before collapsing into your chest. 

You both take a minute to catch your breath; the only sounds are your heaving pants and the ever steady stream of the shower. Eric’s hands still hold your waist, slowly loosening as he pulls out and leans back into you, thumbs sliding against your skin in an absentminded motion.

You, in return, let your hands slide up his arms and gently rub his shoulders. With a smile, your lips press softly to his temple before you whisper, “Still cold?”

Eric huffs out a laugh, arms winding around you, pulling you backwards with him under the stream of water, “Definitely not.” He murmurs back with a smirk, kissing your neck gently in return.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[sweet3nerrr]

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- Jenna (cairo) is stressed about her writing and so you decide to help her

first fic :) based on the scene from millers girl KINDA LONG LOL

———-

you and cairo were sitting in her bedroom, rambling about how your days had been. she was working on an assignment, while you sat on her bed passing mindless comments. she took a long drag of her cigarette before letting out a sigh of frustration.

"you know even if you fail this class, youre still hot enough to marry some rich man babe", you winked leaning back on your arms. "you know I dont give a fuck about being hot, I give a fuck about being smart", she replied. she stared at you, letting her eyes linger on your face.

she looked visibly tense, like the project was causing her muscles to freeze every time she tried to type a word. blank. blank. blank. her mind was completely blank. "you need to relax", you said rolling your eyes playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. "is this why youre smoking by the way?, the stress?". she brought her cigarette up to her plump lips, inhaling as she held eye contact with you, a devilish smirk playing on her lips.

"you make smoking look hot", your tone low as you flirted with your best friend. "oh yeah?", her smirk even wider now. shooting each other looks, you leaned forward crossing your arms. "what's the subject?". she threw her head back, making a loud thud as her head hit the wall. "what's your greatest achievement to date?". she paused, glancing up at you with glossy eyes. "I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to say?". you watched as she swallowed, her neck outlining the frustration she forced down.

"well, youre gonna be valedictorian", "boring", she replied immediately. "you have a 4.6 gpa", "boring". "and, you've successfully...". her eyes widened as she shook her head waiting, desperate for an acceptable answer. "what?", her tone sharp. "and you've successfully, uhm, fuck well I guess youre just-", "fuckk", she replied closing her laptop forcefully and moved to lay on the bed next to you.

she ran her hands through her hair, eyes closed. "I think, I think you need to experience something", you mumbled, pulling at the fabric of her shirt. "oh yeah?, like what?". "something worth writing about", you trailed off, letting your hand creep along her stomach. "something I can help you with".

she got up, staring you dead in your eyes. she was so unbelievably pretty, to say she was hot was a severe understatement. "are you serious?", she finally said in that raspy tone that drove you mad. "dont fucking play with me right now", she added moving closer to you. you gave her a telling look, one that screamed to her you wanted her to fuck you.

within seconds she had you trapped beneath her, lips fighting against yours as soft whimpers escaped from both of you. her body snaked along yours, hips moving ever so slightly against you as she held herself up. breaking the kiss, you moved to her neck, feeling as her pulse beat out her throat. "fuck", she groaned as you sucked and bit at her skin, paving your way to her tits. one hand on her waist, the other skilfully undid the rest of her buttons, revealing her lace bra clinging to her toned body. "hid this from me?", you slurred as you took in the sight of her.

she sat up, taking the rest of her clothes off. you locked eyes momentarily, a dark hunger clouding her pupils. "turn around", she whispered, wiping her mouth. you were taken aback by how dominant she was being. "come on, turn around", she repeated flipping you over.

her lips met your back, biting into your shoulder blades as her hands ran the length of it. "so fucking pretty", she moaned before wrapping her hand around your thigh, inching closer and closer to your soaked pants. before you could process anything, her fingers shot electric through your body as they toyed with your swollen clit. "f-fuck", you moaned, gripping the sheets. you felt as she smiled against your skin, moving her fingers expertly. "so sensitive", you let out breathlessly as she sped up, increasing the pressure. "good, you can take it right?", her voice full of lust.

she pushed her fingers inside you, causing broken, dry moans to vibrate out of you, eyes shut impossibly tight. as she pumped in and out, her free hand came shamelessly around your neck, pulling your head up. "tell me how good it feels", she whispered in your ear, puling harder. you couldnt. the way she fucked into you, curling her fingers so perfectly on your spot had your mind completely shut off. pressure. fire. pleasure. the only things you could feel. "dont make me say it again", she growled as her teeth sank into your neck.

"fuckk, so good, im so-", your words were lost inside you. you were numb, numb all over. "fucking pathetic", she laughed as she released her grip from your throat and used it to torture your clit some more. the combination she gave you was blinding, youd never felt it before. clenching around her fingers, her pace only increased. "are you gonna cum?", she whined still so deep inside your pussy. "y-yeah is that-", "cum for me", she interrupted, moving her hand from your clit to your back, shoving you down into the bed.

"f-ukck oh my-m", was all she could hear as the sheets muffled your aching moans. she didnt need to hear how good she made you feel, the way your cum dripped off her fingers said enough. she held you there for a second before slowly pulling out and letting go of you. you turned around, showing her your fucked out expression. she let out a quiet whimper at how you looked, before licking her fingers clean. "you taste so good", she groaned before sitting next to you.

"that was definitely, my greatest achievement to date".

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Fourteen

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: Stalking

Mafia AU

1.5K

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"Happy birthday, Stinky."

Lando opened his eyes and let out a groan. It was far too early. He closed his eyes and placed his head back against the pillow.

A hand was in his hair, brushing through his curls. "Oh, you're so cute," she mumbled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Lacing her fingers through his own, she tried to pull him up. "C'mon, birthday boy. I made breakfast."

The promise of food was what coaxed him out of bed. As he stood, she threw a pair of pants at him, covering up his nakedness.

The moment she opened the bedroom door, the smell hit him. It was so damn sweet. Pancakes, waffles, French toast. It was a kids dream. "Holy fuck," he said as he walked into the kitchen. "Baby, what time did you get up?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't matter," she said as she turned back to the stove, where more was cooking. Holy shit, he was gonna be double his body weight by the time his birthday was over.

Lando strode over to her. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You didn't have to do all of this, baby," he whispered against her skin.

There was a moment of hesitation before she answered him. "I... this isn't like your normal birthdays, I'm sure. I still wanted to make it special."

He kissed her shoulder again. "You already have."

There was no hiding the smile she wore as she placed the newest batch of pancakes (American style this time) on the table. "Eat up," she said as she placed the pan in the sink. "I'll bring takeout home tonight, yeah?"

French toast halfway to his mouth, Lando paused. "Huh?" He asked, mouth still open, ready to take a bite. But then he put the toast back down. "What? It's my birthday," he said. "You can't leave on my birthday. That's the birthday boy's rules."

"Well, birthday boy," she began as she walked past him. "I've got work. Unless you wanna live in a cardboard box in the back alley."

For a second, Lando looked like he was contemplating it. She rolled her eyes as she headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day.

The way Lando missed her when she was working was unhealthy, he knew. But over the weeks, months (he wasn't sure how long it had been, all of the days seemed to blend together), he'd found ways to entertain himself.

She'd given him complete access to her laptop. Lando had felt so guilty when he'd hijacked it, downloading programmes and logging into software to get into contact with his employees. But the fortification of his house was coming along nicely, all because she had given him her laptop.

Any day now the house would be ready, he knew. Lando wanted nothing more than to see her roaming the halls. He'd show her around, show her the office (once he'd made it his own), show her the library, the garden. He'd take her up to meet his mum, and his dad now, too.

The thought of her in his house, in his space, helping make it his own, it stirred something in him. Something that had him grabbing her waist before she could walk through the door and head out to work. "Lan!" She said in surprise as he nipped at her neck. "Calm down, birthday boy. I'll be back in a few hours."

He watched her go. But the moment the door shut, he sat on the sofa and opened the laptop.

Nobody had wished him a happy birthday, but Lando wasn't surprised. That wasn't how it worked in a family. It was business as usual, maybe a private celebration with the head of the family's partner.

This was already the best birthday Lando had ever had. He logged into the laptop, typed several different and intricate passwords into the software he had to get into.

Will and Max had left him messages, detailing what they had done to the house. You'll need to come by today and get yourself onto the system, Will had messaged.

A groan left Lando's lips. He threw his head back for just a moment, eyes shutting. Her rarely used car was parked just across the street, and Lando knew where she kept the keys. If he left how he could be back before returned from work.

Getting changed into his suit (the one she'd cleaned up for him), Lando grabbed her keys from the hook beside the door. He pocketed them and made his way out to her car.

Lando hadn't been back to the house in months. It didn't look any different from the day he'd left it.

By the gate waited Max Fewtrell. He looked at Lando with a frown before using the keypad to open the gate. As the gate opened, Max climbed into the car. "This isn't yours," he said.

"Nope," Lando replied and began driving up towards the house.

Still, Max looked at him,clearly waiting for something more. Something that Lando wouldn't give unprompted. "You haven't run off and become a car thief, have you?" Max challenged. "Because that would be really bad for business."

Lando couldn't help but laugh as he pulled up to the house. "Nope, this beauty belongs to the love of my life."

Beauty. Max snorted at that. The car was anything but beautiful. "If we get everything set up today, you gonna move her in?"

Truthfully, Lando didn't know. If he'd been any other rich guy living in this huge ass house, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But he wasn't just any other rich guy. His world was dangerous and he wanted her away from it. If he could have kept himself away, he would have.

Max led him to the security office. He sat Lando down in front of a bunch of monitors and began setting up the security system, coding it to his passwords and prints.

It was a long process, one I will not bore you with. Lando was nearly falling asleep by the time he was finally finished. He checked the watch on his wrist and couldn't wait to get back to her apartment, back to her. His baby.

But he wasn't quite ready yet. With Max trailing behind him, Lando walked to his bedroom.

How many mindless hookups had he had in this bed? "Get new sheets," he said and Max wrote it down. "And clear out half of my wardrobe."

Because Lando really couldn't stay away from her, could he? After spending the last few months living together, living in bliss, he couldn't imagine not waking up beside her every day.

So, Lando had his staff readying the house for her to move in. It was incredible to watch happen, all for his baby. And, as soon as that was done, he headed home, headed back to hers.

***

Things had felt normal, leaving the office. He stopped into the shops, got the birthday boy some birthday chocolates, and got some takeout for the both of them.

It was her usual route home and not too far at all. Although she lived in a sketchy area, she'd never felt unsafe on her walk home.

Until tonight.

Maybe it was paranoia. Ever since Lando had told her, she'd been a lot more wary. But she'd never felt this before, never this terrified.

She sped up her steps and quickly glanced back.

The person behind her with his hands shoved into their pockets sped up their steps, too. They crossed the street when she crossed the street and followed her around corners.

When she got to her street, she was running. She kept the takeout and the shopping held tight to her body as she legged it as fast as she could to her door.

The person behind her started running, too.

As soon as she got through the door of the apartment building, she pushed her way through and kicked it shut behind her, buying her just a few more seconds.

She managed to get her own door open before the person grabbed her. Throwing her body against the door she shut it, locked it and put the chain across.

Her chest was heaving as she dropped her bags and wandered into the kitchen. As she poured herself some water, Lando came running out of the bedroom. "Baby, what is it?" He called as he strode over.

She was shaking when Lando pulled her into his chest. "You're okay," he whispered and ran his hands through his hair. He ignored the smashed bottle of wine by the front door. "I've got you, baby."

She didn't tell him what happened that moment, couldn't bring herself to speak. Lando held her until she could and, when she did, he spent his night by the door, watching through the peephole with his gun pressed to the wood.

Tomorrow he'd get her out of here, get her somewhere safe.

a/n: i'm so sorry i haven't updated this one in over two weeks, my focus has been elsewhere lmao

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[aemondluvbot]

𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖘

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱a “the dragon and the sparrow” blurb

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i have always genuinely adored the scenes in acotar where rhys teaches feyre how to read so this is very much inspired by that

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: allusions to smut but nothing on page for this one, innuendo, nudity, fluff apart from that

“aeg…aegon the con…conc…” you groan in frustration, the words dancing in front of you eyes—elusive and more difficult than they have any right to be. 

“conqueror,” aemond corrects gently, brushing his knuckles up and down your bare shoulders as you sit between his legs, the giant tome in your hands. it’s much past your bedtime, the hour of the bat, and yet you’re determined… determined to show him that you can make progress, you can learn. 

it’s been a challenging few weeks, but you want to show him you’re worth teaching, a good student. 

“aegon the conqueror,” you repeat, a little more confident, “was the f-feerst…?”

“first,” the prince corrects you again, laughing softly when you huff and slam the book shut. “come on little sparrow, you can’t give up just yet.”

“i’ve been trying!” you whine. and it’s true, every spare minute you have between washing linens and mopping floors and boiling water for baths, you sneak in quick peeks at the loose pages aemond has been giving you. more often than not, it’s history lessons—targaryen history and stories from all seven kingdoms, histories of dragons and lands beyond the narrow sea. 

anything and everything that’s challenging for you. anything and everything for you to learn how to read. 

“i know you have been, my sweet,” the prince placates you a little, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder. 

just hours ago you were tossing between the sheets, lost in the throes of ecstasy, and now here you are… frustrated beyond belief and still on the first page of this newest lesson. 

“open the book,” he says. it’s an order, more like, one you shouldn’t refuse. still you grumble a little, making him chuckle again. “go on…”

you clear your throat, a little dramatic. “aegon the con…queror… the conqueror was the… first l-lord of the sev…en kingdoam…kingdoms,” you pause, breaking apart several times and repeating words until they feel familiar on your tongue. until the letters make a little more sense than before. “and king on… the irun—”

“iron.”

“iron th…throne.” 

“very good,” aemond praises, turning your face to him so he can give you a kiss as reward. 

this has been the routine for a few weeks now—he fucks you to within an inch of your life and then makes you sit between his legs, a book in your hands, making you read the words out loud to him. the kisses are your favourite reward, as much a treat for you as it is for him. 

“this is so dull,” you whine again, in a difficult mood tonight. 

aemond hums. “you think my ancestor, aegon the conqueror, is dull?” 

you gasp, realising what just came out of your mouth in front of the prince when you feel a pinch on your hip, making you half-yelp half-giggle. his mouth hovers just above your ear, kissing the shell and the lobe and then your jaw. 

“i think i agree with you,” he whispers, making you giggle a little more. “should we get a new book then?”

“mm-hmm,” you nod, “you told me once you had a book on vhagar for me. i’d like that one, my prince.” 

wordlessly, aemond leaves the bed, taking the book in your hands away with him. you instantly miss the warmth of his body, of the feel of his skin against yours. but you can’t complain too much about it, not when he's right there in front of you, gloriously naked and searching for the book you requested. 

“a lot of big words in this one,” aemond warns while you salivate over his backside. you have a sneaking suspicion he’s taking longer than necessary, standing right there for a few more moments just for your viewing pleasure. 

“i’m quite good with big things, my prince,” you answer, rather coy. 

“are you now?” aemond turns sideways, his little smirk now half-visible. “that mouth of yours will get you in trouble some day, little sparrow.”

it’s not a threat, not even close. and yet it sends a tendril of thrill down your spine and straight to your core. “i look forward to that day, my prince.” 

his smirk turns into a smile, but the prince chooses not to answer, pulling the book down from a high shelf instead. once he’s back in bed you slot yourself back between his legs, comfortable and snug. 

the book looks just as old as the others, leather-bound and its pages yellowing, but the illustration on the front page is all too familiar. for a moment you close your eyes and think of the wind rushing through your hair, think of the prince’s arms around you much like they are now. 

“shall we begin?” he nudges and you nod, turning to the first page. 

you begin much like before—struggling with the words and repeating them until they come a little more easily. aemond corrects much like before too, gently guiding you over the more difficult ones, praising with kisses and soft touches when you get them right. it’s only after the first page that you turn to him in curiosity. 

“can i ask something, my prince?”

he hums, busy stroking his fingers through your hair, and you take that as a yes. 

“how did you get her? vhagar… she’s centuries older than you and so much bigger. you can’t have had her as an egg in your cradle.”

“i didn’t,” he answers, closing his eyes perhaps to reminisce the day you’d asked about, stroking your head still. “i was just a boy, ten years of age… and she was riderless.”

“you were ten?” your voice drips with incredulity, not doubting him, never doubting him. when you close your eyes you can picture it so clearly—a small boy of ten, silver hair down to his shoulders, approaching a dragon hundreds of times his size.

“do you not believe me, little sparrow?” aemond teases. 

“i’d never doubt you,” you respond. “what did you say to her?”

“i said, ‘dohaerās, vhagar! lykirī,’ and she let me climb her,” the prince explains, dramatising the familiar words you’d heard him speak in high valyrian just a few weeks ago. 

“you told her to… to… serve, and… be calm?”

“look at you, little sparrow,” aemond swoops down, capturing your lips in his for a deep lingering kiss that has heat coiling in your belly again. rather possessively, you grab his face in your hands, deepening the kiss, relishing the feel of his mouth on yours until he’s the one to break it. 

“you can learn high valyrian—” another small peck on your lips “—once you’ve mastered the common tongue. until then…” his arms loop around you again, putting the book back in your lap to the page it was on before, and tapping the page with his finger. 

you intertwine your fingers with his, kissing the back of his hand. “if that’s what my prince commands…” 

and then you begin all over again. 

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @uhnanix

[goldsbitch]

Right? p3

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

part 1, part 2

"Y/n!"

You slowly turned. The plan was to leave with the rest of the team, not staying behind with Lando - alone.

"I just have few ideas for the next phoshoot, if you'd like to talk about it," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Professional. "Of course!" And with that, the last person left the room and closed the door.

The media meeting room was one of the few rooms without glass doors or windows. The only light present was from the projecting screen, still showing a big photo of Lando fucking Norris.

He was leaning on the table, light reflecting in his face while he was observing the picture.

"Narcissist much?" you teased and also leaned next to him. It's like his body was sending magnetic signals to yours.

"Always. " He paused for a moment. "If I recall correctly, these were all shot in the forest." You chose not to react. He gave you a questioning look. "Where is the rest?"

You should have expected this. Wishful thinking was not working in your favor. Or was it?

"I'm missing the car pictures, the ones where you stood above me and perhaps even those where you sat on me. Am I right?"

You turned and looked him straight to the eye. If tension was a fog in the room, you'd be able to see at arms-lenght only.

"I guess the battery gave out sooner than I noticed," you replied nonchalantly.

Lando stepped into the projector light. "Yes, that must be it...Or, there is a reason why you don't want to show them."

He was standing way too close. You had no defense for his charm. The damn scent again. The only thing you had on mind was burying your face in his neck and leaving your own mark on him. Would he be the one to moan? How would that sound?

"You know, I also like to take photos."

"Is that so?"

He was facing you directly. With a noticable hasitation, he put his finger on your chin, tracing the lines of your jaw. He ended up with him finger and his eyes on your lips.

"I would love to be on the other side of the lens. Take photo of you for once."

We are sorry to inform you, that all traces of professionality have left the room.

He slowly traced your lips with his finger and while remaining direct eye contact, you opened your mouth and licked it. It was slow, with a little pause and then suddenly the mouth that kissed yours, like he had once in real life and several times in your dreams. .

Almost as if he had read your mind, he proceeded to kiss your neck, softly not to leave a mark, but enough for him to find out you in fact do moan. His hand, wrapped around your hips, squeezed you as a direct response to the soft sounds coming out of your mouth.

"Lando," you whispered.

"Yes, baby?" his voice was shivering as well. This should not make you proud. You should stop now, anyone could walk in. You managed to break out of your paralysis, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Lando, stop."

He stopped kissing you promptly. Your foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. You almost laughed. The only thing he should feel sorry for was the fact his mouth was not exploring your body anymore.

With heavy heart, you pulled away. This was probably a silly game for him, one with potentially horrible consequences.

"I can't risk my job like this."

He nodded. "I understand. I guess. I mean, I think the times are changing a bit."

"Like having an affair with essentially your boss is not bad anymore?"

"I'm not your boss."

Oh maybe he should be.

"You know what I mean. For me it's not just a job."

He took a moment to think. "That's probably the hottest thing about you. The passion. I can understand that."

Your stomach spun. Lando called you hot?

"It's impossible for me to keep passing you around as if it's nothing. Been too long." You remained calm, knowing well enough you'll have many night to think about this sentence.

"Do you say this to all the female staff?" you joked, but tiny part of you had a legitimate worry. You were not going to be one of many, too proud for that.

"I'd have to quit if there were even only two like you, one is enough to handle."

This time you approached him and kissed him first. A little bit slower than you kissed before. It was quick, as you heard some steps on the hallway.

"Let's go on a date. Privately. So we can think clearly," he insisted.

"I don't think other people are the reason why I'm not thinking clearly."

"Come on, say yes."

"Yes, let's."

Lando stepped away, becoming more of his work self again. You went to turn on the lights again. "We can either go and take photos of you for this time, or you can show me the ones you hid from others."

The door opened and you were relieved it didn't happened a minute ago.

"Yes, let's do another photoshoot," you smirked at Lando.

part 4

______________________________________________________________

@i-wish-this-was-me

[gtsdreamer2]

Rachel had always been rather vain. She loved attention and working out was one of her ways of polishing her body to perfection in order to earn and validate that attention. She was just finishing her most recent workout, another hard day's work at the local gym. She pushed herself further than usual today, and she was feeling it. She felt a little light headed and needed to sit. She put her finger to her ear to pause her wireless earbuds which rebuked her touch with a stinging shock that pulsed through her body. Pain turned to pleasure as the electricity coursed through her.

"Mmph!" She stifled a moan as she felt the electricity radiate down her finger, through her arm, and then from there spread to her whole body, from her suddenly erect nipples down through the tips of her toes. Even her clit felt a tingle pulse through it, forcing her immediately into an aroused state. Rachel's sweat coated skin was suddenly covered in goosebumps as she felt her body heat and tense. "Whaaat theeeee..." She sighed as her body grew ever so slightly.

She could feel it. Her muscles tightening and gaining density. Her shoes becoming a little tighter and her top protesting as her breasts grew almost imperceptibly larger. She laid back in her chair panting and whimpering as she felt herself grow wet. Rachel remained in an aroused state of shock for several minutes, trying to slow her breathing and not cause a scene as she slowly came down from her high.

'What the fuck was that?' She thought to herself, slowly standing up and surveying her surroundings to see if anyone was watching what had happened. She figured that no one noticed. Looking around. She could feel that her point of view seemed off. "I'm taller" she whispered out loud. "Like seriously, I can tell. What the fuck." She pressed her chest together. "I'm..bigger too." She teased her still erect nipples and immediately noticed their increased sensitivity. Deciding to Google what had happened, she opened up her gym bag to grab her phone, only to be greeted, once again, by a much more powerful shock to her whole hand. She pulled her hand back, dropping her phone as if she had been a snake that bit her, but it was too late. The phone's battery instantly went from eighty to ten as the power was drained into Rachel, who fell back into her chair as her growth resumed. Much stronger this time, she was unable to hold back the feelings of euphoria overcoming her.

"Fuck fuck mmm...fuck!" She cried out as she gained the attention of her whole gym. She suddenly became quite the spectacle as she bucked her hips against the air and whimpered as the feelings of growth overtook her. She gained another foot in the course of a minute and a half as the staff approached her.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" The man behind the counter asked, genuinely concerned for this patron's well being. As her surge was subsiding she was finally able to stand again. Her top and bottoms were hanging on for dear life as she lifted herself away from the wet spot on the chair that marked her first orgasm of the day.

"I feel great actually. I feel so energized and strong and still kind of horny tbh, not that that part is any of your business. The employee looked from Rachel to the soaked chair then back to Rachel, who stood at an impressive six foot two of solid muscle by now. He blushed and cleared his throat.

"Well I'm glad you seem to be feeling alright miss, but you caused quite a scene and I'm afraid...I have to ask you to leave."

Rachel scowled down at the little man, who was only little to her because she was over six feet tall at this point. "Is that so?" She said defiantly. "I rather liked causing a scene. And these people probably enjoyed the show." She crossed her arms and pouted while drinking in all the stares of the onlookers.

"If you don't leave," the man started, "I'll have to call the police and have them escort you out." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it in front of her threateningly.

"I don't think so. Yoink!" She plucked the phone from his hand and held it tightly as the remaining battery life from it poured into her. After this third shock to her system, Rachel was getting used to the feeling of electricity and only felt the pleasure returning with barely any of the sting.

"Get ready for me to cause...mmm..another scene." She moaned, dropping the employees dead phone on the ground before stomping it. She wrapped her arms around herself and began to gyrate and sway while the current flowed through her body. "That's it. UMPH! All eyes on me. These puny clothes aren't gonna last."

As her body processed the juice she jacked from the now crushed phone, she grew a third time. Only another foot, but still enough to turn her into an eight foot tall titaness. She flexed her back and her pecs and her thighs and her top and bottoms tore away with ease. Instead of covering herself in shame, Rachel spread her arms wide to take in the stares of the whole gym. The employee ran behind the counter to use the landline to dial the cops as Rachel let out a satisfied coo followed by hysterical laughter.

"I feel so big and strong now. Just from two little phones. But look at all the equipment in here. Who wants to see if I can suck the juice out of one of these treadmills?" The crowd was mostly quiet and nervous, but a couple gym bros had started chanting for her to get bigger. "Well, if you insist." As if the pleasure from growing wasn't getting her off, all the hungry stares and the encouragement were certainly doing the trick. Rachel's crotch was on fire, and her exhibition kink was spiking off the charts.

Rachel walked up to one of the idle treadmills and easily placed a foot on either side of the machine. She gingerly touched the rail to see if that would sap the power from the machine. Seeing that it didn't, she placed both hands on either rail and arched her back, sticking her widened ass out playfully and shaking it to give all her viewers a show. 'They're eating it up.' She thought. 'They're going to lose it if this works how I think it will.' "Here goes!" She called out without looking back. She let go of the rails and let both her hands land on the buttons of the machine. The lights in the building began to flicker as the power directly from the breaker box funneled into the machine and then into Rachel.

"Oh fuck!" She cried out as her body suddenly felt overwhelmed by a much more massive spike of electricity than she was ready for. But she braced herself and didn't pull away.

She forced her body to drink in every watt as she moaned and grew. "This feels so...mmm...fucking good! Watch me grow!" Her body started to expand again as her ass grew behind her towards the onlookers. Two, three, four, five feet later and the power went out. Rachel collapsed on the floor, falling with the lifeless treadmill in front of her. Her legs shook as the most powerful orgasm of her life passed through her. "That was amazing." She whispered to herself, suddenly oblivious to her audience and in her own little world. "I need more."

She grabbed the rails of the machine to brace herself as she shakily stood up. A couple of the gym bros hollered and whooped at her, but she was over them at this point. She was chasing a new high. She pushed her hands into the treadmill to make sure it wouldn't give her another jolt. When it refused, she shoved it clear across the gym. Her crowd suddenly grew scared and started to make for the exit, but the automatic doors wouldn't open without power. "Here, let me help." Rachel said, annoyed by her screaming ex-peers. She placed her hands on the sliding doors and tore them off with ease, tossing them into the street and shattering the glass. As if the sound didn't attract the attention from everyone outside, the thirteen foot naked fitness goddess certainly did. As she forced herself out of the building, she began scanning for sources of energy to drain. Her eyes looked up at the power lines and she started drooling at the thought of tapping straight into the source again. She reached for them, but she was still too short. A fact that frankly pissed her off. Too short shouldn't be a thought that could even manifest in her mind, she thought to herself.

Parked on the street were several cars, and Rachel got an idea. She made a motion towards the one closest to her and quickly tore off the hood.

She had attracted a new gathering of people at this point, people clamoring right and left and snapping pics and recording videos of the giant woman. Truly a wet dream come true for Rachel. But she was ready to be so much more. She just needed a little help reaching those wires. With her super human strength, she ripped the battery out of the car and kissed it seductively for the various cameras pointed at her. She immediately felt the battery empty itself unto her through her lips and hands. She moaned against it as she absorbed the little snack. She fell to her knees as the sensation of growth returned to her, and she pushed the car away and arched her back as she piled on another four feet. Needing a little extra help this time, Rachel snaked a hand between her slick thighs and rubbed herself to completion before standing, satisfied. She hefted the empty battery in one hand before hurling it clear out of view, putting any quarterback to absolute shame.

"Good news everyone!" She called out to her massive gathering "I'm finally big enough!" Her crowd seemed confused. "And by big enough," She continued before reaching up and pulling free two wires from the phone pole. "I mean big enough to get way way bigger." She gave her audience the biggest smile in the direction of the most phones pointing at her before touching the wires to her erect nipples like jumper cables, completing the circuit and forcing thousands of volts of pure electricity straight to her system. Where her first shock from her earbuds felt like a sting, this new sensation felt like a warm vibrating caress that started in her engorged tits before spreading through the rest of her like wildfire.

"Oh God!" She cried out, forcing herself to not drop the wires. "This is what I'm fucking talking about! Mmmph! Yes! Mama's gonna suck this while city dry, and you're all gonna watch in awe as I get....bigger...and bigger and....mmmMMM BIGGER!"

Each pause in her speech was accompanied by massive spurts as she grew several feet at a time. She was growing much faster than before now that she had a stable connection to a much greater source of energy.

As Rachel grew, so did her crowd. The police had finally arrived, but there wasn't much they could do to this thirty foot woman now. She stuck out one massive foot and placed it on the nearest squad car, instantly draining its battery and adding it to her already immense form. "Thanks for the additional help." She squealed, pushing the car down the street with her heel. "Mmm, I feel so strong and unstoppable now!" She roared, breaking forty, then fifty feet before the transformer in the phone pole blew out, cutting off her supply. "Oh boo." Rachel pouted, dropping the wires and quickly placing her hands on the other two cop cars for a quick extra few feet of height.

At this point, Rachel's crowd was basically worshipping her massive form, and she couldn't get enough. Camera crews had begun to arrive and set up their equipment so they could be the first to get the scoop on this giantess who was causing such a scene in the city. She bent over and blew them all a big kiss as soon as their equipment switched on.

"Tonight's big story-" one reporter began before getting cut off by Rachel's booming voice.

"Tonight's big story is me!" Rachel bellowed, putting her hands on her hips and pushing out her chest while flashing a big smile. "Well. I guess I'm kind of several stories at this point. And hopefully soon to be more!" Her face was hot and red, but not from embarrassment. Being broadcast over the air while naked and gargantuan was turning her on again. She needed another source of power to resume her growth.

Rachel looked from the downed wires to the blown transformer and then, with her new view above the treeline she followed the series of poles with her eyes all the way to the downtown power station. She could feel a throb starting again between her legs as she licked her lips and thought about what getting her hands on all that raw power would do to her already impossibly large self.

"If you guys want a real headline for tonight, you might want to get the chopper and follow me. I promise you won't be disappointed." Rachel skipped off towards the power station, crushing everything in her path on her way to finish her ascension towards goddesshood.

[aritsukemo]

Your heart's too big for your body.. | Muichiro and Yuichiro Tokito

Warnings: Mentions of the reader throwing up in Yuichiro's part! All my emetophobic folks beware!!

A/N: I honestly don't know what this is lmao- I planned a completely different set of characters when I wrote this but as I was listening to Melanie Martinez's Crybaby album, I guess my mind just went to two characters who bring me a bunch of comfort. Like, as I listened, I felt kinda sad so my mind just imagined a bunch of scenarios with these two comforting someone.. ( Also, in case anyone's confused. Muichiro's part is set in a more modern au like the Kimetsu Academy au, Yuichiro's isn't )

"What the fuck," Is the first thing the teal-streaked medic mumbled when you stumbled into the Butterfly Manor half conscious, blood dripping from your head. and your hand poorly covering your stomach which had a horrifyingly-large gash on the center of it.

"T- Tokito.." You called, although you could barely get the words out before you tilted. Luckily, Yuichiro caught you in time before you completely hit the floor.

As your head hit his shoulder, a quick wave of panic shot through him. After all, it wasn't often that a Hashira—especially one of your caliber—to come in this wounded, or wounded at all for that matter.

As he helped you to your feet, Yuichiro threw your arm over his shoulder, ignoring your blood that had quickly begun to stain his clothes, and called for some assistance before guiding you to the nearest patient room and sitting you down on the bed where you immediately flopped over.

"Shit," He cursed out, finally noticing how bad of a state you had gotten yourself in. You showed obvious signs of having a concussion—a severe one at that. But he had little time to focus on that before you began choking.

With quick movements, Yuichiro helped you sit up only for you to immediately fall forward and cough up your stomach, staining the bottom half of his clothes with your blood and what was most likely your breakfast, shit.

It was only then that the Kakushi had rushed in, staring at the sight in surprised horror only to finally rush to your side after Yuichiro shouts at them to unbutton your uniform vest and press down on your stomach wound while he prepared the bandages...

When you finally awoke, you were experiencing one of the worst headaches of your life. The Kakushi had long been sent off, but Yuichiro was still there. Towering over you, scrutinizing you.

"How are you feeling?" Was the first thing he said. It came out in a rushed, whispered tone of voice instead of his usual vexed one.

"My head hurts.." You mumbled in which he hums and mumbles something involving Shinobu and medication under his breath. Although, it was hard to really concentrate on his mumbling when your head felt like it was being split open and the strong taste of metal was lingering on your tongue..

"So what happened while you were out?" Surely you had run into one of the Twelve. Logically speaking, there would be no other way for you to obtain such injuries. Unless you somehow tripped into a bear's mouth or something on your way home. Although he hopes that isn't the case. You were an idiot, but hopefully not that stupidly clumsy.

Your eyes drifted to your hands subconsciously, an expression of which the medic could only think was embarrassment slowly forming on your face.

"It was my fault," You began, and Yuichiro was already furrowing his brows, "I underestimated my opponent and nearly got another slayer killed as a result.."

"There was another demon slayer there?" His voice suddenly grew low as hed muttered his next words with poorly masked dread, "..What happened to them?"

"They..ran away," Wait..what?

"They did..what?" The sudden sharpness of his tone has you wanting to shrink away from him, "Say it again. I want to hear it. Now."

"There.. There were multiple slayers.. One of them attempted to help out, but in the end..when I was pushed back.." You pause, looking for the right words to your next sentence that wouldn't shove the truth of what happened in your face. The disheartening truth that makes your chest tighten and your heart sting. The truth that your comrades had left you to die, "I awoken and my comrades..had all..retreated to safety."

"So, they left you to die," You wince. The way he always worded things always sounded so painful to hear. It squeezed at your heart in a way that made your eyes sting and your throat tighten, but you try to brush it off as best you can.

"No, they just—"

"Decided to save their own worthless asses as soon as the fight didn't go their way and left you to clean up the mess?" As his anger grew, so did his voice, "No way you slice this will make the truth any less apparent that they left you for dead!"

"How many times have I told you about this? You need to understand that most people only care about keeping themselves happy and alive and don't care who dies at the expense of that! Not you, or me, or anyone else!" He's right. Both of you are aware of that and as a result, silence replaces any words that would've been spoken after that—well, that and the tears that are beginning to form in your eyes because of the intense stinging..

You raise you hand, your eye instinctively closing as you wipe at your eye, your tears smear as a result, but you could care less. As long as it got rid of them.

At some point, the silence was broken with the sharp sigh that slipped from Yuichiro's soft lips. He shuffles closer before leaning down where the coldness of his thumbs comes in contact with the warm skin just under your eye. They capture the tears that manage to escape and gently flicks them away.

"You shouldn't waste your tears. Not on them, and certainly not on me.." He tells you, but it only makes you want to cry harder—which you ended up doing.

"I'm.. I'm sorry..*hic*.. I.. I.." You couldn't even get your words out from how much you were choking. This was so embarrassing and you wished you could just crawl in the hole and never come out of it..

But you can't. So you'll just have to make do with Yuichiro caging his arms around you as you sobbed instead.

"Thank you for coming," You told him, intending for it to sound more like an happy and excited little kid than a heartbroken and dissapointed adult. He looks around, streamers and banners decorate the walls, rounded tables and chairs were dressed down in various colored flowers and other assortments—all of which were mixed and matched in your favorite colors—and a beautiful multi-tiered cake sitting in the middle of a long rectangular table in the back of the room—the cake's decor trailing down the layers and onto the table where it then hangs off the wood, like hanging wisteria trees..

Not a soul in sight.

It was confusing to him. He vividly remembers the long nights with you, both of you up at ungodly hours, dressed down in your pajamas. He remembers being on the phone with you, staring intently at the slumped beds that had begun to slowly form under your bottom lashes and the faded look of drowsiness on your drooping face. He remembers your hands, tiny cuts of all shapes and sizes dented in your skin from the many slip ups and paper attacks that happened that night and previous night. He remembers the afternoons slowly turning to evenings and then nights and he remembers you working nonstop on your invitation cards. Each were just a tad bit different, some of the handmade decorations being different sizes and beautified certain ways to mask the small but noticeable mistakes you made on some of them. He remembers how proud you looked everytime you finished a card, showing him while flashing the widest grin he's ever seen from you. He remembers how pretty each card looked..

Why didn't anyone show up?

"I suppose everyone was busy today," You said, but he couldn't tell if you were trying to answer the silent question in the air or trying to tell yourself that to make yourself feel better, "I knew I should've waited til' the weekend.."

"Why.. Where is.." He didn't know what to say. You were pretty well known throughout school, everyone loved you or so it seemed. Why is he the only one here?

"Y'know, when I first started passing out the cards, most people told me that they probably couldn't make it. It made me a little sad, but then I was asked if I could help them out.." You told him. He hated the look in your eyes as you said it, "Heh..I ran all over the place running errands for all those people..they said that because of me they'll have enough time to at least stop by and drop off their gifts.." You began to walk, your shoes dragging against the wooden flooring of your living room, Muichiro cringed at the screaking sound it made.

"I did all of that..and no one showed. I waited all day.." Your voice was so shaky and fragile, like a mirror slowly cracking. It felt like the shards of glass were slowly falling off and shoved down his throat.

Then your voice suddenly raised, "But it's okay!" You said, "It's okay," You repeated, "That just means there's more cake for the two of us to enjoy!" You stop right infront of the large cake, your head rolling to look back at him. His own mirror began to slowly crack as his teal eyes met your teary ones and you flashed him a smile, one thinned out instead of the usual full, bright one you always blessed him with.

It was heartbreaking. It made him want to cry. And he did. He didn't realize it, but the tears had begun to slide down his cheeks one after another..

"I'm..so sorry," He said as if he wasn't the only one standing here before you, "..I'm so sorry, Y/n.."

"Why are you apologizing? It's okay, Mui. Don't feel bad. I'm okay.." You croaked, watching with your bottom lip shaking as he neared you. Biting down on the skin when he enveloped you and his sobs filled your ears.

"It's okay. I'm okay. I'm..I.." With a loud hiccup to signal that the dam has broke, you fell apart completely. Body trembling as you leaned into his shoulder, mumbling words of reassurances over and over like a damaged record.

"I'm..fine.. I'm okay.. No need to cry.." You said, but your words comforted neither him or you—if anything, it only made your tears come out in quicker, thicker clumps, completely ruining the little makeup look you had spent an embarrassing amount of time doing.

At some point, you two hit the floor. Neither of you noticed it, but you were curled up in each others arms on the cold, lonely floor. Tears wetting each others' sleeves. It was a mortifying sight. If anyone walked in, there's a chance you'd both be made fun of for being such crybabies over a simple birthday party gone wrong.

But you never left his embarace and he never left yours. You both sat there, tangled in that messy embrace and sobbing, heavy feelings weighing in both of your hearts.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[bamboobooshark]

BUCKY BARNES X READER

﹒⌗ ⚜️ ౨ ♰ ˚₊‧ HOLD ON : 2.5K WRDS

<RATING: PG-13, VIOLENCE, DEATH, SIMILAR CONTENT>

This is a lil smthn smthn for my pookie!! This is also my first time writing angst!! So prepare for this to be not so good as my fluff stuff (there is going to be a bit of fluff at the beginning though). !!WARNINGS: angst, character deaths (reader and character), crying, blood, guns, eventual suicide!!

Christmas time. You and Bucky always enjoyed it. The two of you loved the cold weather, the small lights that dimly lit the city at night, the soft layers of snow covering the ground, all of it was so gorgeous. The wind was hitting your faces causing both of your noses to get a bit drippy. Besides all the sniffles and full body shivers, you and Bucky were enjoying you winter night stroll. You held each other’s hands, fingers tightly intertwined to show your affection and to keep warm.

It isn’t long before you two are close to arriving at your apartment building. You can’t tell whether you or Bucky is more excited to cuddle and get cozy, but it doesn’t matter.

It won’t matter.

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters under his breath. He grips your hand tightly. His muscles tense so hard his arm begins to tremble. You shoot him a confused glare. Why is he so shaken? Is he worried? Why won’t he answer you?

You and Bucky thought Hydra was done with him. It had been years since he last had to deal with them. Neither of you would’ve expected to quickly be surrounded by several men; several Hydra workers. This isn’t how this night is supposed to end. You’re supposed to go to your flat and make hot cocoa and cuddle and tell each other how much you admire the other.

“Bucky? What’s going on,” you ask, your voice wavering. He finally looks to meet your eyes. They’re wide and glossy. He’s trying his damned hardest to not show it, but he’s just as terrified as you are. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what they want. I don’t know why they’re here,” he rambles. He stands in front of you, gazing into your eyes deeply. “I need you to listen to me, darling. I love you. I always will. There’s never going to be a day where I forget you. I promise I’ll always remember you,” he assures you, now grasping both of your hands tightly and pressing them to his chest. You shake your head in confusion and disbelief. “Bucky, stop. You’re scaring me,” you plead as tears prick your eyes.

“This could go one of two ways, Barnes,” one of the men speaks. Bucky gives him a glare so hard it makes your breath pause for a few moments. He releases your hands and stands tall. You try desperately to grab his hand back, pawing at his fists pitifully. “Let me handle this,” he whispers to you sweetly. You nod in agreement. Though your body is trembling, you stay as still as you can. You feel lightheaded. Your legs feel like they might give out. You can feel the blood leaving your face, your body going cold like you’re dying.

“The easiest way to go about this is to have you step away from your sweetheart and come with us,” the same man says. His arms cross against his chest tightly before he exhales deeply. “But I know, we all know, that you don’t like things to be easy. You want things the hard way,” he says confidently. Bucky practically growls at the way the man speaks. He can feel what might happen next. He doesn’t even take a moment to look at you before he tugs you against his chest. God, his flesh is warm. So warm, so contrasting to the metal hand the presses against your back compared to the one that holds the back of your head protectively. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you take my baby. Not now. Not ever,” he states. His fingers grip onto you tightly like he’ll loose you if you barely slip out of his grasp.

“You’re proving me right,” the man chuckles. The six other Hydra employees surround you and Bucky from a distance. Guns point at you and him from every direction. A knot forms in your stomach. You know that whatever’s about to happen next is inevitable. No matter what either of you do, what either of you say, will save your life or Bucky’s. “I love you, Bucky,” you mutter against the crook of his neck. Hot tears roll down your cheeks while you attempt to hold back your ugly cries. “I know it. I love you too,” he whispers to you, kissing the side of your head.

“No! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bucky yells, choking back tears.

It takes a moment before your body takes in what happened. Your ears ring from the sound of a gun going off. You feel the most intense, stinging pain in your side. Your hands move from your lover’s back to grip your abdomen. You can’t hold back to ugly cries. You begin to whine and wail, yelling Bucky’s name incoherently. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. Just give me a second, okay,” he assures as he falls to the ground with you. He holds you closely in his lap, climbing on top of you to protecting you. He does his best to cover your head and chest, that way you can’t be shot again without the Hydra employees shooting him as well. He struggles to shimmy his coat off before ripping a long strip of it off with his teeth, using his metal arm for some extra power. You cooperate the best you can, lifting your stomach and pressing against him so he can wrap the fabric around your waist. You groan loudly in pain as he fastens it as tight as he can. “Shh. I know it hurts, baby. I know. Bare with me, though. This will save your life,” he says as he presses his head to yours.

“I’m not going back to that hellhole,” he declares with nothing but determination in his voice. He’s not letting you die tonight. He’s not going back to Hydra. He’s not allowing himself to forget you. No fucking way. “Step away from them, Barnes. This is your last warning before we have to start using more force than necessary,” the leader says with feigned sincerity. He growls in responde while shaking his head no. He stays pressed to you, not giving any verbal response to the Hydra men. His tears drip down his cheeks and onto your clothes. You’ve never seen him give you such a pitiful, desperate, affectionate gaze. You’re hoping you’ll never have to see him like this again. He whispers how much he loves you, how he can’t wait until you get stitched up so he can hug you as tight as he physically can, that he’s so excited to see your reaction to what he got you for Christmas. You try your best to reciprocate, gritting your teeth and tensing while you speak. You feel like you can barely hold on despite the pressure of his torn coat slowly stopping the bleeding. It feels too late for miracles, for prayers, for anything to stop this.

“Can you hold on for me, sweetheart? Could you do that for me,” he asks tenderly, his warm hand coming down to caress your cheek. You lean into his touch lovingly. You can feel his pulse against your jaw. You can smell his hands; the usual scent of metal mixed with the soap you’d gotten him months ago for his birthday that he refuses to stop using. You nod in response, choking out a “yeah” for him. He smiles softly and nods in sync with you. “Thank you, baby,” he mumbles.

Nothing but a loud exclamation of “no” comes from your mouth.

Two of the men had used the vulnerable, moment to try and pull Bucky away from you. He resisted, kicking, punching, even biting the men to get them off. “I told you I’m not going back! Espically if you kill my damn spouse,” he barks angrily at them. The leader of the group approaches your entangled bodies.

You can feel Bucky’s chest press against you in an almost sedating manner. The way you can feel his heart against yours. His breaths coming out hard and heavy from his chest. The stuttering of his heartbeat from crying so hard. “I’m telling you to leave us alone. Forget about taking me back. Forget about ever shooting them. Just erase this whole thing from your mind and leave us alone,” he pleads with the man. “I’ll take them to the hospital, say it was a hit and run, we all go home, live a happy life, and pretend none of this ever happened,” he says as a demand rather than a deal.

The figure that stood above you two shook his head no while smiling sadistically. “I’m sorry, but that’s not how this works, James,” he chuckles, your partner’s names sounding like poison coming from his mouth. “You either resist and they die, or you come with us and they live,” he says. You look up at Bucky, biting the inside of your cheek. “Bucky, please. I don’t want you to have to go back. Let me,” you pause, struggling to say the next word. “Let me die,” you mutter through heavy sobs. For the first time in a while, Bucky acts aggressive towards you. “Darling there’s no day, time, or universe I’d let you die like this. You’re getting out of this alive,” he promises you. Your tears blur your vision, your boyfriend lovingly wipes them away with his thumb as he looks up at the male. “You’re not taking their life. There’s no way I’m letting any of you take their life away from them,” he states sternly.

“You’re funny,” the Hydra agent says before you both hear the cocking of a gun. Bucky immediately covers your head and heart with his body. You can’t hear anything but his breathing now. His breathing, his crying, his desperation apparent in the way he inhales and exhales. “If you shoot them, you’re shooting me,” he says before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” he tells you again. “I love you too,” you say, as a promise more than a statement to him, one more time.

For the last time.

Another stinging pain courses through you before things go black. Bucky pauses in disbelief, in denial that he left the slightest bit of your head uncovered. He yells out your name as loud as he physically can, tears and pain scratching his throat like a cat’s claws. He’s never letting himself down for this. He can’t. He never can. He sobs, crying himself dry until he’s sputtering and coughing dryly. “You’re sick,” he says quietly. “You’re all fucking sick,” he barks loudly as he holds your bleeding head to his chest.

It’s been weeks. The Hydra agents left Bucky alone to grieve with your death, deciding that would be worse than wiping his memory once more and letting him forget you. He hosted your funeral and now holds your ashes in a small charm of a necklace he doesn’t take off. His mechanical arm rusts with some of your blood still on it. He’s been struggling. Despite having a good support system and being surrounded by the people he cares about, he can’t stand not having the one he cares about most around; you.

He sits on the couch in your shared flat. His eyes glance over to your spot. Your blanket is still draped over the top of the couch the way it was when you two went out walking that dreaded night. Your favorite throw pillow lays on top of the cushion. He lets himself silently cry. He can hear your voice. He can see your smile. He can faintly smell your scent on the items you left behind. Fuck, it’s so hard without you. It’s insufferable. It’s quiet. It’s dull. Life feels more lonely than when he first had his memory wiped. His gaze falls on the Christmas tree. He eyes each of the ornaments. You two had been living together for almost four years and you’d trying to collect trinkets or actual ornaments for the tree. He smiles tenderly, each little item holding a loving moment between the two of you. He looks from the star on the top to the presents at the bottom.

With a pained groan, he lifts himself from the couch. He uses the dim lights from the tree’s lights and the cheesy Hallmark movie on the TV like a flashlight to find one specific present. The box isn’t the biggest, but it sure as hell is special. He unwraps the box and holds it in his hands. The red velvet in his hands doesn’t do anything but make him cry harder and smile bittersweetly.

He opens it to reveal or gorgeous engagement ring. The diamonds in the middle form a star, just like the one that was on his mechanical arm when you two first met. He unclasps the necklace that holds your ashes, slipping the ring onto the chain. He closes it back and grips the two small items in his hand so hard, his knuckles turn white.

“I miss you so bad. I’m so sorry you never got to see this ring. I’m sure you would’ve loved it. Maybe you would’ve thought it was stupid,” he says, talking to what remains of you. “I can’t stand not seeing you,” he sighs. He heads to your bedroom. He wipes some of the liquid that driped from his nose before smiling at your side of the bed. It was still neatly made like the way you left it. He loved the way you would make your side of the bed, and even fix up his side if he didn’t. He reached into his bedside table drawer to grab the lockbox stashed under files and random items. He unlocks it and picks up the revolver inside. He always kept it fully loaded in the case that someone broke in and possibly brought a whole team with them. He never thought he’d be using this thing for an emotional emergency rather than a physical threat. He grabs the sweater off the side of your bed that you wore to sleep the night before the walk. It still smelt like you, had your signature scent that he could always recognize. He wrapped it around his neck in a way that represented a hug from you. He grips the ashes and engagement ring once more, the revolver in the other hand. He lays on the ground and sighs peacefully. He’ll see you soon. He’ll be with you. He knows his headstone will look nice next to yours. He knows that flowers will bloom in the dirt near your graves, moss will cover the headstones, and the stones will age old together for you and Bucky since you two won’t get the chance to. “I love you, sweetheart,” he says before pressing a kiss to the charm holding your remains. He inhales deeply, then exhales for the last time in his life, your ashes and ring still gripped in his hand.

You two didn’t get the chance to grow old together. Your headstones will, though. That’s the beauty of it. That’s your proof that you’ll always love each other.

[anxiousthoughts365]

Drama

TW: Long term health conditions

'Moony!'

Remus is on his feet so fast that he feels something pull in his lower back. He knows he'll be feeling that for days, but the genuine distress in Sirius' voice has him moving as soon as he's upright. He has to focus so that he doesn't trip on the cane he'd snatched up as he rose, but he's in the bathroom in record time.

'Pads?' He pauses in the doorway when he finds the other man sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, his hands twisted around his long black locks and his aristocratic face wet with tears.

'I ... I ...' Sirius is already hiccuping, so Remus carefully lowers himself to his knees in front of his husband. When he feels stable, he reaches out and presses the palm of his hand over Sirius' heart, right in the middle of his chest. He can feel it thrumming under the Rune he knows is tattooed right there, under his shirt, but that's not the purpose of the touch.

Sirius' eyes close at the prompt, and Remus waits, watching while the man takes a few slow, steadying breaths. It's only when the beating under his palm has slowed to almost normal that he murmurs, 'Look at me, Cariad.'

Sirius' eyes open, and even though they're swimming, Remus can see calm focus in those pools of silver, and he lets out a breath of his own. He raises one eyebrow, a silent nudge, and Sirius' voice is quiet as he says, 'I found a grey hair.'

In their youth, the dramatics would have earned Sirius a sound clip around the head and a severe tongue-lashing for the absurd bullshit. But they're 20 years in now, 15 years married, and Remus had learned early on that the berating did nothing. Sirius was dramatic to his core, and no amount of chastising would change that.

'Show me,' he simply replies. Sirius gives him a grateful look before turning around, tipping his head back to allow Remus to examine his locks.

'Right here,' he sighs, reaching behind him to point firmly at a particular spot. Remus doesn't even want to know how or why he had been looking so closely at the back of his own head. Instead, he just starts sifting through the black strands, taking his time. He doesn't find a grey hair.

He finds six.

'Alright,' he says slowly, thinking about how best to break the news. He opts for humour. 'I guess we can get rid of that portrait of you that we have stashed in the attic. It's clearly not working.'

Sirius wails, spinning around to throw himself into Remus' waiting arms.

'I'm hideous!' Sirius cries, burying his face into the threadbare jumper covering Remus' torso. 'I dont want to be getting old and ugly and grey!'

'Oi!' Remus protests. He had started going grey the day he'd turned twenty.

'Oh, you know what I mean,' Sirius huffs, sitting back and waving a dismissive hand at Remus as he wipes at his cheeks. 'It suits you, Moony. You look refined, dignified. I'm going to look so -'

'Sexy,' Remus purrs, leaning closer and smirking when Sirius' breath hitches, his tears stopping suddenly.

'W-what?' Sirius blinks stupidly at him, and Remus is immediately thrilled that he's managed to derail the spiral so quickly. He doesn't often do this, he usually just responds to Sirius' antics with a dry sarcasm that gets his husband grinning and sending back his own sharp jibes. But Sirius has always been precious about his looks, and Remus is willing to pull out the big guns for this.

'You're going to look so fucking sexy, Love,' Remus goes on, his smile growing when Sirius' eyes drop to his mouth, his pupils blowing wide. 'Your hair will match your eyes, and you're going to have the evidence of our happiness and our fights and our hardships show on your lovely skin, and your body is going to get a little softer so that my hands will fit your curves more perfectly than they already do. And I can't wait.'

'Moony,' Sirius whispers, a light flush creeping across his cheekbones as he meets Remus' gaze, swallowing hard at whatever he sees in the werewolf's eyes. He sways forward, and he's almost there, so Remus goes in for the kill.

'My very own silver fox,' he rumbles.

Sirius pounces. And as he falls back onto the cool tile of their bathroom floor, as his husband follows him down and sets about showing his appreciation for Remus' innate ability to catch him, Remus can't help but think how this will be worth the two days in bed that he's likely going to need after this.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The secret relationship between a Hero and a Villain gets exposed to an enraged public and now they gotta go on an apology tour together

"There's been a severe and continuous lapse in my judge-"

"Don't you DARE fucking say that! My reputation is on the line!"

“This counts as community service, right?”

The hero took in a deep breath and finally managed to pull their eyes away from the piece of paper which had been given to them. It was a long apology, written for them by someone else. Meaningless words thrown into a pot and stirred.

More than frustrated the hero loathed the next speech, the next apology. They knew it was all politics, supposed to show around what kind of power they had over the villain. It was explained as a misunderstanding, as a scheme the hero had come up with to control the villain.

Which was a lie.

“Community service for you, yes. Though I doubt they will actually count it as such. You’ll go to jail. No doubt.”

“Eh. Amazing.” The villain looked through the drinks on the cart and hummed quietly. For quite a while both of them had decided to…take a break. The hero didn’t like it and they didn’t dare thinking about someone else. God, they didn’t want anyone else but the people were mad and the hero was too afraid of the public to stand up for their relationship.

The public really was a leviathan. An uncontrollable mass of complex human beings that wouldn’t stop once they found a reason to complain.

“I’ll try my best to bail you out. I never thought we would have to apologise for being in love.”

“I don’t think the people buy it anyway,” the villain said. They shrugged and found a bottle they liked. They turned around to their lover and smiled sheepishly. “Maybe I should try to sing my next apology.”

The hero sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Stop joking about this. I’ve told you my reputation is on the line.”

“We both know you don’t really care about that.” The villain turned the bottle in their hand, looking at it intensively as if it could turn into wine eventually. “You’re sick of your own obedience. Sacrificing yourself for the queen in the beehive — you’re tired of it eventually.”

“No, it’s the right thing to do. I have to set an example. I know it sounds odd…no one should apologise for being in love. But given the circumstances and who we are it’s relatively understandable,” the hero said. It was an easy lie. Obviously they hated this.

But they had to keep up the charade. Even in front of the villain.

“Hm. Keep telling yourself that.” Suddenly, the bottle was on the table and the villain’s fingers slid down the hero’s neck. Involuntarily, the hero’s eyes widened. They hadn’t actually touched the villain in a long time. “You can keep apologising all you want but you know it won’t change anything. People aren’t blind when it comes to love.”

“People are blind whenever they want to be.”

“That a confession?” The hero looked up at them, felt their cold fingers moving up and down.

“Merely an observation. They will devour us if we don’t repent.”

“I’d rather be devoured than let some…scum dictate my life.” They paused. “I love you. Is that so wrong?”

“Yes.” The hero swallowed. They weren’t in the mood for fighting. They were afraid of it, actually. Afraid that their mask would crack and splinter and that they would be tempted by the villain. That some brilliant scheme of theirs made the hero decide otherwise, made them run away or choose a different path. “Compassion towards the enemy is wrong. That’s what they think. That’s what they’re supposed to think.”

“And what do you think?”

Shit. The hero hadn’t paid enough attention. The villain got them.

The villain used their nails to scratch the hero’s neck gently.

“Am I a waste of your time?”

“No,” the hero whispered. “It’s…more difficult than that.”

“Oh, I am sure it is.” The villain let go of them and their attention jumped back to the bottle. “Just be careful that you don’t devour yourself. You know our end is always our own fault.”

They kissed the hero’s cheek gently and just for a moment, the hero allowed themselves to feel loved again.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hot as Hades

Masterlist - Misc. masterlist

Chapters 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Words: 2047

Chapter 5 - The party

"Olympus", you murmured, blinking several times, half-expecting to find yourself back in your own home, awakening from a dream.

However, you soon realized that this was not a figment of your imagination. The clouds beneath your feet felt both soft and stable as you cautiously took a few steps, constantly reminding yourself that the ground wouldn't give way beneath you. The atmosphere around you seemed different, pleasantly warm with a gentle breeze, and the light enveloping you resembled the soothing rays of sunshine on your skin. Your eyes scanned the surroundings as you made your way through the grand golden entrance, briefly pausing to acknowledge the small blue deity who greeted you with a mischievous wink behind his red-tinted sunglasses. Hades whispered sweet reassuring words to you, telling you to just be yourself as you kept on walking towards the gathering of the other gods. Amidst the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind, your gaze flitted from one divine figure to another, almost oblivious to Hades engaging in conversation with no other than Zeus himself. It wasn't until Hades' smug voice broke through the chaos that you were fully present once again.

"How sentimental. You know, I haven't been this choked up since I got a hunk of moussaka caught in my throat."

Given the overwhelming amount of first contacts with the entire Greek pantheon and the fact that you were thrown into this without a warning, it was only a matter of time before something inside you snapped and that moment was apparently now. You could, for mere seconds, feel the pressure inside your chest building up before it burst, all your thoughts washed away within an instant, leaving only the pure esssence of your very being, which was admittedly not the side you wanted to show to literal gods but here you were, having no choice and at this very exact moment in time, you stopped giving fucks. So, without any warning or possibility to react on your own, your body started laughing. Your hand searching Hades' as a warm wave of giggles and laughter bubbled out of you, your fingers gently intertwining with his. You playfully nuzzled your head against his arm, wearing a loving and amused smile in response to his joke. Every god on Mount Olympus watched you with curiosity as you were giggling away at the joke of that one god everyone agreed on is not funny. As soon as you realised that no one else joined in the laughter, you cleared your throat, tightened your grip on Hades' hand, and spoke almost in a whisper.

"So I guess it's more of a mosaic than an audience."

Zeus shot you a glance before slapping Hades' shoulder, leading him away from you.

"Brother, I have no clue how you managed to find that one but I'd keep her close if I were you, you won't find another one like that", the sound of his exaggerated laughter piercing through your skull in the most uncomfortable way despite the distance.

You knew all about Zeus from the stories being told and you met a lot of people worshipping him, he was THE god after all but from what you'd seen, something deep within you had already decided that he was definitely not making it on your good list. You couldn't exactly pinpoint yet why but you were sure you did not like Zeus and you were even more sure that you'd never let anyone know, just to be on the safe side. Without Hades by your side you suddenly felt a void within you, as if you were lost in the midst of the vibrant festivities. Anxious and restless, you found yourself nervously fidgeting with your hands, unsure of what to do until a smaller blue-skinned god flew towards you.

"Well hello, lovely little mortal", he greeted you, circling around you while peering at you through his red-tinted sunglasses, "are you enjoying our fabulous party? Say you and the old grumpy guy", he nodded towards Hades, "you know, I haven't seen this much love in a room since Narcissus discovered himself."

You offered a timid smile to the god, avoiding direct eye contact, uncertain of the appropriate response.

"Oh my, babe, excuse me, where are my manners", he exclaimed, feigning shock before swiftly reaching out to shake your hand, "I'm Hermes, nice meeting you, finally, we've heard so much about you."

With a sincere smile, Hermes then flew away. Just as you were about to utter a response, he returned to your side, presenting you with a goblet containing a mysterious red liquid.

"Isn't this...?", you began, unsure if it would be wise to vocalise the remainder of your sentence.

Hermes simply nodded, placing the goblet in your hands.

"But wouldn't this make me...?"

He slyly winked at you before glancing at Aphrodite, who stood beside Hephaestus, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she observed your conversation with Hermes from the corner of her eye.

"I can't, I mean what about", your voice dropped to a whisper as you gestured toward Zeus, who currently had Hades locked in a tight embrace, clearly without the latter's approval. Hermes casually waved his hand, dismissing your concern, and drew you closer, his arm gently encircling your waist as he led you over to Aphrodite, urging you to take a sip.

"Sometimes not even the big guy manages to control everything and on other times he doesn't know when to make an exception and both moments eventually happen on the same occasion. Hey Aphrodite, honey, be a dear and take care of our little mortal while I go over to annoy his flaming grumpiness."

"So, Hades, you finally made it. How are things in the underworld? How are things with the mortal world?", Zeus asked, nudging the Lord of the Dead.

"Well, they're just fine. You know, a little dark, a little gloomy. And, as always, hey, full of dead people. What are you gonna do? As for the mortal, Zeusy, darling, dearest brother, I would actually have a tinsy tiny request. You know from god to god, from bro to bro."

Zeus instantly took a step backward, the cheerful expression on his face faltering, replaced by something grim.

"You know the rules", Zeus sighed, "you know I can't make an exception."

"But you made the rules!", Hades almost shouted, the flames on his head threatening to turn into a fiery orange.

"Hades no! And that will be my last answer! I understand your position  but the answer is no!"

"But-"

"No! The rules are for everyone. It's not like one could just change the fabric of reality and change it to whatever outcome one wishes for."

Hades mumbled a curse under his breath, carefully quiet so his brother wouldn't hear it while moving away when his steps halted at the sight of Hermes wrapping his arm around you.

"What in the undead is this?!", he growled, flames shifting to a fiery orange in an instant burst of anger.

He stomped towards you, his already barely existing sense of calm completely shattered for the remainder of the day. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to unleash his fury on that infuriating and insignificant excuse for a god, when suddenly, the same god turned and flew towards him.

"Hey H, darling, listen I just ha-"

Hades shoved him out of the way and, as he reached you, ignoring Aphrodite and Hephaestos, his slender fingers tightly gripped your wrist and he pulled you away from the party, not stopping until you both reached the gleaming golden gate.

"I'm sorry babe, this was a mistake. I don't understand why he can never gra-", Hades abruptly stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as a sudden realisation struck him, "I need to head to the Underworld!"

"What? Why? I mean I'm not overly comfortable being here but if you want to stay, I have no pro-"

Hades hushed you by pressing his finger on your lips. The warmth of his skin on yours almost made you shiver, channeling all your mental strength to not let your thoughts drift away.

"Trust me, I'll explain everything somewhen, later maybe, okay? Right, well", he winked and turned around to address the other gods, "ok guys listen, I'd love to stay. But unlike you gods lounging about up here, I regretfully have a full-time job that you, by the way, so charitably bestowed on me, Zeus. So, can't. Love to, but can't. Bye bye."

As the Lord of the Underworld placed his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to leave, he Zeus interrupted.

"Aw, Hades, don't be such a stiff. Join the celebration. You haven't even heard the big announcement yet."

"As if I'd care", Hades muttered, rolling his eyes, before finally disappearing with you.

You found yourself standing in your own bedroom, Hades taking a few steps away from you before he vanished without uttering another word. Your hands trembled slightly as the events of tonight flooded through your mind. It was already strange enough to be courted by the Ruler of the Underworld but within a few nights from your first encounter, you met the whole pantheon, two gods basically made you immortal whereas the one god you loved suddenly brought you back and left without any real explanation. Were you truly immortal now? You felt no different than earlier this evening, besides all the excitement and stress cursing through your body. And what was up with Hades? Would he even know about the nectar? Was it his plan? Did he feel that you were becoming immortal? Did he now reject you at the sudden thought of having you forever? Sudden doubts were gnawing at your heart, even though he has given you no reason to feel this way. But he was a god, and despite the nectar, you probably still felt like a mortal in his eyes. Perhaps to him, you were nothing more than a temporary amusement, easily discarded after a short while. No no no, you refused to accept this. Frustrated, you let out a groan in an attempt to push these thoughts away.

There was something between you and the Lord of the Underworld, something words couldn't explain, a warm feeling engulfing both of you as soon as you were together and you could sense that he felt it too, despite his divine nature and immense power. The affection in his eyes always made itself known. Yet the lack of an explanation bothered you but, for now, you'd put your trust in him and tried to wait patiently for him to return to you. Closing your eyes, you let out a trembling sigh and focused on a single thought, repeating it like a heartfelt prayer. Please stay by my side, please...

Hades was in the middle of hammering detailed instructions into the presumably empty heads of Pain and Panic when your prayer reached him. His voice broke off, silence filling the room as the ache in his heart took over, the sadness in your plea piercing through it like thousand daggers. The guilt of leaving you like that was already eating at him but he couldn't reveal his plan to you, not yet, if Zeus would get the idea that you had been his accomplice you'd punished, cursed or worse. Hades shook his head, he would never allow to let anyone or anything harm you, now that he found you and especially after the Fates' prophecy, he'd do anything to keep you with him.

"Uh Lord Hades?", Pain cautiously asked, exchanging nervous looks with Panic who tried to hide behind him.

His gaze shot to the two imps, his hair flaring up with a hint of orange.

"What are you two still doing here?! You have your instructions so get out of my sight before I maim you!", he screamed.

Pain and Panic shrieked, crashing into each other before scurrying out of the room. Hades slumped on his throne, groaning in frustration as he massaged his temples. They would fuck it up but, unless like all the other times, he was actually counting on it for his plan to work out. This is doomed, the thought invaded his mind, this was doomed the moment love was involved...

Chapter 6

[7ndipity]

"Love Me Again..."

Taehyung x Reader

Summary: Tae shows up at your door, trying to reconcile with you, but will you let him in?

Warnings: angst, swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the anons who requested this! I actually had a draft with this title already, based on a different song, but then the album announcement happened, and... yeah, we had some rewrites. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"I wish you would love me again, no I don't want nobody else, I wish you would love me again, again..."

He sat staring off into the distance, watching as the blue stain of night began to fade from the landscape with the promise of dawn, his back resting against your front door.

He'd been here for hours, trying to get you to at least talk to him. He knew you were home, but you wouldn't answer the door.

He'd fucked up. He didn't know why he hadn't tried to stop you after that final fight, although to even call it a fight was generous. It'd felt more like the waving of a white flag, surrendering before the war had even begun. But he'd let it happen all the same, you both had.

He could still see you in the doorway, pausing before you left. For a moment, he'd foolishly thought you would turn back then, let it go, as you both had so many times before.

"Sorry."

One word, and you were gone.

And yet, you weren't. Traces of you were still scattered all around his apartment, memories that you'd forgotten to take with you in your haste to leave, things that weren't even technically yours, but were certainly no longer his.

The blue mug that you always used sat untouched in the cabinet. The pillows in his room still held your scent, to such an extent that he'd could hardly sleep in his own bed anymore. He couldn't stand it anymore, it felt like he was going out of his mind.

Not knowing what else to do, he pulled out his phone, planning to leave you a voice message and then go home, although what he would say he had clue.

"What is it?"

He froze, stunned at the sound of your voice on the other end of the line, not your answering machine.

Several seconds went by in silence. "Tae?" You prompted, shaking him out of daze.

"Sorry." He blurted. The same thing you'd said as you'd left now being echoed back at you.

"Is that all you have to say?" You asked. "You've sat outside my house half the night and that's it? One word?"

"Well you wouldn't answer the door." He said defensive

"Tae..." You sighed, he could practically see you shaking your head, pressing a hand over your eyes in frustration.

"Fine, I'll be honest," He said, before he could lose his nerve. "I think about you all the time. Where you are, who you're with.

I know I said I'd be alright, I'd be fine, but, I'm sorry, they're all lies.

"The truth is, I'm lost without you, baby..." His voice shook as he choked down the lump rising in his throat.

"You can yell and be mad at me, just please don't leave. Don't go."

You silence urged him onward, igniting a spark of hope that he was almost afraid to acknowledge.

"Let's just take it back, slowly. We can make it better, please."

"I can't just forget everything that happened." You said finally.

"That's not what I want." He said quickly.

"Then what do you want?"

"I...I just want you to love me again..." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Behind him, he heard a lock click, the door swinging open so fast that he almost fell backwards.

"Who said I stopped?"

[dellalyra]

FAMILY FORMATIONS - PART FOURTEEN

Summary: Shibuya.

CW: angst, violence, lots of it, anger, angst, blood, violence - Shibuya. Need I say more.

A/N: So this is nearly more of an experiment in writing for me so forgive how shit it is. This is gonna be the last plot-centric part for a while then we’re going back to what Family Formations does best - tooth-rotting domestic fluff <3

Recommended Listening:

Me & The Devil - Soap&Skin

Fear and Loathing - Marina

Murder in My Mind - Kordhell

GOODMORNINGTOKYO - TOKYO’S REVENGE

Scrambling – sprinting – running as fast as you can, your lungs are raw from screaming and fighting for hours now. The smell of smoke is putrid as everything collapses around you.

You felt it - Satoru’s gone.

He’s captured, you’re alone.

You had heard names whispered around.

You needed to find someone – anyone, you needed to find someone alive, the hordes of transformed people had been pushed to you by Mei Mei – your claws and fangs show no signs of retracting now they’re all dead. There’s too much adrenaline coursing through your body for you to slow down or properly comprehend anything that happened – or even feel the slash bleeding down your back. You can’t concentrate long enough to transform with your technique into something faster or with better vision.

The shouts of your husband’s defeat and imprisonment resonated through your skull and just wouldn’t quiet down. Hope felt like it was slipping through the cracks caused by Sukuna’s rampage in the pavement. You had the blood of several hundred on your body – your feral technique and anger and grief over the loss of your husband and fear for your loved ones transformed into sheer rage as you slashed and twisted and tore your way through the curses littering the station which were blocking civilians exit. You knew you’d saved thousands of lives single-handedly that night.

But you’d lost.

Noritoshi Kamo and Miwa had somehow ended up with you through everything, and you followed a signal from the airborne Momo and simultaneously you and Kamo notched arrows with a view of Mai and a sniper rifle in the distance.

Just as you turned to loose your arrow.

You saw him.

A walking ghost.

The bow and arrow dropped as Kamo loosed his arrow and Mai made her shot.

But no sound of weapon art would drown out the ragged scream your body released.

Frozen in place you watched events unfold like you were in a dream. So this was how they got Satoru.

You walked forward into the clearing. You suddenly felt 17 again.

“Oniisan?”

The body turned to you.

He moved like him. He looked like him. He spoke like him.

But it wasn’t him.

“Ah! Welcome to the fray, it’s been a long time hasn’t it, little Dryad? What was it I called you? Oneesan?” The body asked.

“It wasn’t you who called me that. It’s was Suguru Geto. You – you are someone else. You have taken and defiled my best friends corpse and imprisoned my husband. I will kill you, you sick fuck!”

“You certainly have the spirit and temper of the women of your family. Your great great grandmother was very similar.” He easily deflected your arrow before sidestepping the vines grasping for his ankles.

That gives you pause – great great grandmother?

But before you could move another muscle, the man is turning away and you’re being dragged away by Utahime as you thrash against her.

“Greetings, Choso.”

A tall, broad man clad in purple has entered the clearing. Who is this?

“Ah, it appears you have noticed.” Pseudo-Geto says to the newcomer.

The rage coming from this Choso rivals your own – but it’s directed at your apparent common enemy.

“NORITOSHI KAMO!” He screams and simultaneously all (modern) heads whip to look in shock at the 17 year old Kamo heir, seeing the surprise on his own face.

You stop thrashing away from Utahime’s grasp and stare at her.

“Utahime if that’s Kamo – then…” you say.

“The thing inside Geto is over 150 years old!”

You’d read many accounts of the blight on the Kamo Clan, the most nefarious sorcerer to exist.

“How dare you try to make me kill my little brother Yuuji Itadori?!” This Choso screams.

Wait, what?

And before you know it Choso is fighting tooth and nail for Yuuji and you’re sure of your theory – he is also a Kamo, but he must be one of the death painting wombs that Noritoshi Kamo created. Noritoshi is his father, but how is Yuuji related? He’s not a Kamo. But, if… no, that’s crazy. If Noritoshi had been surviving by moving body to body, then maybe - it’s true. A death painting womb has blood connections to its siblings, so Choso would know. You’re grateful you paid attention in cursed object theory in high school.

And speak of the devil, beside you, beside Panda – is Yuuji. You scream his name and he looks to you and you almost cry in relief he’s alive. He’s badly injured and there’s something hollow in his eyes. Yet, now is no time for reunions.

Panda moves to attack but before any of you can make a move to retrieve the prison realm holding your husband and father of you children, a wave of ice encases your allies. Your body had protected itself subconsciously by wrapping yourself in your sunbeam technique – making you too hot for ice to approach.

Opening your eyes, only yourself Yuuji, Momo, and Choso were not frozen.

“You could try calling me big brother once you know?” You hear Choso say as you approach the duo.

“Take this seriously!” Yuuji replies.

“Yuuji! I think he might be right! I’ll explain later – we have to get Satoru!” You unfurl the tendrils of ivy from your hair and begin to focus.

But once again – you don’t get a chance.

Because in front of you stands your saving Grace – the woman you idolised since childhood.

“It’s been a while, Geto, can I get your answer from before? What kind of girls are you into?”

Yuki Tsukomo – one of the four other special grade sorcerers apart from yourself.

You ran to Yuuji, checking him for damage.

“Y/N. I’m –” he starts to say before you hush him and press a kiss to the top of your head, shaking your head because you can’t handle him apologising now - you’re too raw.

Yuki was stalling Geto. You didn’t know why, but you trusted her.

A rumble hit the ground and you finally tuned into the conversation despite your ringing ears.

“I’ve marked people as vessels, non sorcerers given abilities. Many have been in a deep slumber since I chose them, but as of this moment - they’ve awoken.”

Deep slumber? Cursed? Oh god. Please, not her too.

“Are you listening Sukuna? The Heian age has returned!” Geto shouts, gleeful and proud as hundreds of cursed spirits emerge from him, spirits Geto has absorbed through the years.

He reaches his arm into his sleeve, and produces a box. A cube. Covered in eyes, big, shining blue eyes held by your son Akio – inherited by

“Satoru!”

“Gojo-sensei!”

And with that he is gone.

Your first instinct now that he’s gone – your son. Where is Megumi? You sprint around, shaking shoulders of everyone you know – desperate to locate your son.

Utahime approaches you.

“Iori! Have you seen Megumi? I have to find him. Satoru – he –” she pulls you into her chest, still smelling like the perfume you bought her for Christmas.

“Y/N. Listen to me. I don’t know where he is, but you have to listen.” The panicked look in your eyes made you looked crazed. She hadn’t seen this side of you since the Star Plasma Vessel incident.

“Y/N. Satoru has been named an enemy of the jujutsu society and a law has been made that he must stay sealed. Y/N, you’re counted in that. The elders want you dead, they say you and Gojo were conspiring with Geto. Yaga has been arrested, he’s been sentenced to death – for inciting the violence. The stay on Itadori’s execution has been lifted - he’s to be executed on sight, Yuuta Okkutsu has been named his executioner.” She steadies you, keeping you upright.

Your face changes from fear to anger.

“Y/N, we will get Gojo out. For now, you need to find Megumi, and get Yuuji and get out of Shibuya. Get Akio away, hide him. Okay? We’ll get him out Y/N.” She says.

You pull her into your chest.

“Thank you, Utahime. I love you.” You say. Your face has turned to stone. The warrior in you has returned and you’re currently planning your next move. You turn away, whipping out your phone. The veil is down and you can call your mother.

“Momma listen, I’m okay. You need to listen to me. I don’t have long. Satoru has been captured, by Noritoshi Kamo - he’s in the Prison Realm (your mom screams), him and I have been named traitors because Kamo is in the body of Suguru Geto. Mom, please, just let me talk – I don’t have – momma! They want to kill the kid, sukuna’s vessel, I need to find Megumi. Tsumiki, I think she’s part of Kamo’s plan. Yaga is to be executed – our allies are hurt or dead. I don’t know where most people are. I think most are dead. You need to get Akio out of the country. Take him - don’t tell me where. It’s not safe for me to know. Keep him hidden, and keep him safe. In my jewellery box is a baby bracelet – put it on him and he and you will be untraceable. Whatever you need – talk to Gojo’s uncle, he’s at the estate. I love you, I love Akio – please let me talk to him.”

The phone is passed to your toddler son.

“Hi baby boy,” you are trying so hard not to cry, you have to hold it together.

“Mama! Hi mama! Nana momma and papa working!”

“Yeah baby, momma and papa are working – you go with nana okay? Going on an adventure. Akio, I love you so much, my beautiful little boy - you’re our angel and papa loves you so very much too. I have to go help Megumi okay? I love you baby, be good for nana.” You let out a sob, resolve cracking.

“Momma – I gotta go. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to keep everyone safe.” And with that you hung up.

You take a deep breath and grip your arm, the vines tattooed with Satoru, Megumi, Tsumiki and Akio lacing in elegant letters through the leaves reminding you why you’re still standing.

You stand for them.

You shake your head, focus, Y/N. Save your babies.

Yuuji. You have to find him. He’ll know where Megumi is. Wait, where’s Nobara? Toge? Maki?

You walk into the direction you saw Yuuji leave, and you see a pink shock of hair beside a head adorned with two spiky buns.

Yuuji – and Choso.

They’re sitting on the steps.

You sprint to him.

“Yuuji! Where is he? Where’s Megumi? Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

His jaw is tense.

“He – he used Mahoraga, Y/N. I –” you collapse on the ground. That was suicide.

“No! He’s alive! I promise, but Sukuna – he saved him. He’s plotting something with Fushiguro. He’s badly injured, but alive.” You fling your arms around him and feel Yuuji wilt in your arms.

“Y/N. Nobara – she, I don’t know if she’s alive. Sukuna, me, he killed so many people, it’s all my fault. But I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t – Nanamin, he’s, he’s dead.” He croaks into your neck, his mentor killed in front of him and he’s apologising to you.

Hearing Akio’s godfather was dead, best man at your wedding, star of every Thursdays Kooking With Kento at your home as you made dinner together. You felt a fresh wave of sobs and you let them escape. Later, you’d mourn later.

“You did everything you could, Yuuji, it’s okay. You brave, brave boy. You’re not at fault. You’re so strong.” He pulled himself from your grip and wiped his eyes.

You saw Choso, from the corner of your eye. He stood, sheepishly and curiously watching the exchange.

“I need to find Megumi – but Yuuji, you need to come with me. The execution order has been brought up and I’m a wanted woman. We need to get away from here.” You look at him.

The sound of footsteps crushing the debris echoes through the empty street.

“Well well well, it must be my lucky day. The traitorous harlot and Sukuna’s rampaging vessel served to me on a platter. What honour the head of the Zen’in clan will bring to society by killing you both.”

That voice. That grating fucking voice.

How many days had you spent since childhood fighting with the owner of that fucking voice.

“Naoya Zen’in. You lecherous cunt. Here to revel in the death and misery like the reaper you are?”

You spit out at him, pushing Yuuji behind you.

“See – bitch. This is why I never liked you. God, you’re beautiful – such a goddess among women and you’ve already proven yourself fertile with the Gojo brat but your issue is your mouth. Such a shame, a waste of a perfect breeding bitch if you ask me: perfect body, pretty face, esteemed lineage, powerful technique but you just can’t shut that whore mouth can you?” He leers, eyeing your body like meat.

Your snarl in response makes even Choso grimace.

“If you just learned to be a nice girl, sit still and just look pretty – then I’d have married you in an instant. You’d be a pleasure to knock some kids into, just all that temper and ego. Oh well, your protectors gone now, so you’re fair game to kill. I’m now head of the Zen’in family –”

“God Naoya, you really never got smarter did you? Even after all those years in school you’re still a dense bastard. You’re not the Zen’in Clan head, if Naobito is dead – which I’m guessing he is, good riddance I say, and Satoru Gojo is dead or in any way incapacitated – Megumi Fushiguro will be named head of the clan, as per the deal made with Toji.” You smirk, knowing you’ve the upper hand here.

He clicks his tongue. His displeasure is palpable.

“Such a smart mouth. Of course that’s the case, but, I’m going to kill Itadori and you, and then – it would hardly come to fruition if Megumi Fushiguro was dead now, would it?” He smirks.

And that was the flash lit to the powder keg.

“Oh Naoya, I’ve wanted to beat the ever living fuck out of you for so long – you sexist prick.” And with that, years of rage renewed by threats against you and your kids, and insults to your family kick you into 6th gear.

“Yuuji Itadori, I have been appointed your executioner and I am here to put you to death.” A familiar voice calls out from above.

Yuuta.

God, he’s grown. Several inches taller, his hairs shorter and he looks so healthy. He’s filled out, almost 19 now. Not a boy anymore, but a man.

A man, who is trying to kill the boy you’re shielding.

“Step aside, Gojo-San.” He calls as him jumps down from the bridge.

“Ah, you must be Okkotsu. I’m here for the Gojo whore - I’ll leave the vessel to you. I propose an alliance, given our common goals.”

The ringing in your ears returned, surely, Yuuta wouldn’t kill Yuuji? He’d promised Satoru.

He’d promised to protect him if anything happened.

Why would he do this? This wasn’t Yuuta.

Wait – no. It’s not Yuuta. Yuuta is honest, and true to his word. He is also smart and will one day surpass both you and Satoru in talent.

“I’m afraid, I must ask you again to step aside Gojo-San.”

Yuuta never called you that, he just called you Y/N.

“I made a promise to those I respect and trust. I must keep my promises.” Yuuta looks at you.

He doesn’t mean the elders.

He means you and Satoru.

He’s praying to anyone that you’ll understand.

“Yuuji Itadori must die.” Reversed Curse Technique.

You squeeze Yuuji’s hand.

“We can defeat them. Choso – stick with me. Yuuji, you’re with Okkotsu.” As you turn – you whisper ‘trust me’ into Yuuji’s ear. Choso and Yuuji together would hinder the plan, so you needed Choso to stick with you.

You needed to get Choso angry.

“Naoya, you’d forsake your brothers just for power?”

And with that, the thought of fratricidal tendencies – Choso was off. With Naoyo distracted by Choso, you nod at Yuuta – giving him your go ahead. You trusted this man with your life, and the lives of everyone around you. He wouldn’t fail you.

You turned to your personal mission.

“Naoya Zen’in! Too scared to fight me? Scared you’ll lose to a girl?” You shout at him, you didn’t need your bow for this – you tossed it to the side. Fangs and claws and vines weaving out of you. You wanted to do this up close and personal.

And with that you, Choso and Naoya were a flurry of blood red, forest green and shadows. There was no way either of you would match his speed – but that’s okay. It was two versus one and you quickly found out that you and choso fought incredibly well side by side.

Naoya’s continued taunts only fuel your fury. He wants to kill your son. He would kill Megumi just for a title. He had bullied and threatened the women of the sorcery world for so long that all of this was something you could not allow to continue.

Naoya Zen’in has to die.

Choso has him pinned, poisoned by his own blood. You grab your daggers, from where they are holstered on your thighs.

You stand above him.

“Choso – go to your brother.” You say.

And he does. Leaving you and a fatally injured Naoya laying on the ground.

“The women of the world will sing praises of your death, Zen’in and I will forever be proud that it was made you sent you to hell. Let this be a lesson. Don’t touch my fucking kids.”

And with that, you sent a dagger through his temple. A quick death. More than he deserved.

You move to where you sense the boys you’re with. Their energy is heavy.

Choso is standing beside Yuuji, a scene you expected. A fire lit, Yuuta sitting on one side, Yuuji laying – covered in blood but recovering on the other.

“Ballsy move, Yuuta.”

All heads turn to you, and Yuuta stands and you wrap him in a hug.

“I knew you’d understand. I couldn’t risk fighting you too – this was the only way. Thank you, Y/N.”

“No, Yuuta. Thank you. You kept your promise to Satoru and I’m eternally grateful.” You squish him into you. Why are all your kids so much taller than you?

Turning to the brothers.

“Thank you, Yuuji. For trusting me. I’m sorry that this had to happen. But Satoru had contingencies in place for an event such as this.” You say, Yuuji’s haunted eyes look up to you.

“I always trust you, and Gojo Sensei. Dying isn’t fun – but if it’ll keep everyone safe then I’ll do what I need to do.” You stand beside him.

“You’re as good as a son to me Yuuji. You’re safe as long as the Gojo’s are here. This guy too, apparently.” You say, nudging Choso.

“The man in the street?” He asks.

“Dead.” You reply.

“I am sorry for the part I played in your husband’s imprisonment.” He says, facing you.

“You protected Yuuji, and saved us both. We both share the commitment to fight for our families - we’re gonna be really good friends Choso Kamo.” And the death painting womb is exceptionally confused by the way you wrap your arms around his chest and squeeze, but he returns the ‘hug’ and feels a sense of peace.

As you pull away, you’re glad to be beside Choso and Yuuta – the days event seem to have caught up to you. You lose your footing and the world swirls around you. You’ve used so much cursed energy today.

Satoru - he’s gone. Who knows where.

Faced a ghost.

Sent your son off to a place that you can’t know.

Learned your adopted daughter is cursed and a tool in a war.

Had to let a boy you trust kill another boy you love.

Defended your son to the point of killing.

And lost a fuck lot of blood from the wound your adrenaline had helped you ignore.

“I’m okay – I just, Choso can you use your blood manipulation to stop the bleeding? Im guessing your reversed out, Yuuta?” The boys fuss over you and when you feel stable – you turn to Yuuji – a crying mess of a shell of a boy.

You scramble and pull him into you.

“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m so sorry Yuuji. For everything.” You croon.

“I killed so many people. I deserve the death penalty. Sukuna came out and it was a bloodbath.”

Yuuta sat down too.

“You aren’t to blame.” Yuuta says. Decidedly sure in his voice.

Just as the boy goes to respond, a voice sounds out.

“Itadori. What are you doing? Let’s head back to Jujutsu High.”

“Fushiguro.”

“MEGUMI!”

He hadn’t spotted you behind Choso’s imposing frame.

“Mom! I thought – I thought you were gone too. I thought - you’d go for him. Shit, I thought they had you too.” He stumbles into your arms and you collapse holding him.

“God I was so worried I’d lost you. I couldn’t find you anywhere.” You say.

“Megumi. You know don’t you?” You say, brushing his hair from his face.

“Tsumiki.” He says, face grave.

You’re distracted by counting the cuts on Megumi’s face, you vaguely hear talking.

“So start by saving me, Itadori.” Now you’re listening.

“Noritoshi Kamo has made plans for those involved with Jujutsu to face off in a Culling Game.” Megumi claims,

“And Tsumiki is ensnared in that. So I’m begging you, Itadori. I need your strength.”

Yuuji can never say no to Megumi. God you hope these two get their happy ending.

“Like hell am I letting you boys go in alone.”

“Mom – it’s not safe. Akio –” Megumi immediately rejects this.

“Akio is safe, don’t forget who you’re speaking to boys. I might be your mom – but I am also Y/N of the Y/L/N clan. I’m the first person to hold my technique in 600 years - I’m the head of my clan. A special grade sorcerer. Wife of the strongest sorcerer alive and mother of the head of the Zen’in clan. There is no woman more influential or strong as me alive. Today, I nearly lost most of my kids, all but one of my best friends are dead and the other is back from the grave, my husband was taken, my eldest son used a technique he knew would kill him and then sorcery’s biggest bully came to execute both of my sons – and I responded by stabbing a dagger through his skull. Do not underestimate me, boys.”

“Megumi – putting all of that aside. I have 3 children. One is hidden, and safe – the other two are being sent into a death match. I vowed to protect you all with my life. That is what I’m doing. You – are my son, and I am always by your side.” You clutch his burned cheek in your palm. Pressing a kiss to his temple. A part of you is nostalgic for the days you didn’t feel any stubble on those soft cheeks – just baby soft skin. He wanted to protect you now, but no matter how grown they get - you’re still their momma.

You stand up, holding his hand – and gesture to the boys to do the same.

“Where are we going, Y/N?” Yuuji asks.

“We’re going to get my fucking husband out of that box and end this shitshow, let’s go boys.”

[lostcybertronian]

Oh, that's fun.

You're about to be riddled with questions, I apologise in advance. Ot's 1am and I can't sleep because of my ADHD meds, brace for impact.

Powerful in what way? Manipulative?

Love the mental image of for example Google doing mental gymnastics to figure out how Dr. Iplier managed it while Ed's initial line of thought (in regard to the Author) was "oh yeah, he's cute" (Their first meeting was probably a fucking shitshow but anyway)

Do you think Host thinks in that sort of hierarchy? I can very well imagine him having a sort of superiprity/god complex. But that's bordering on delusion instead of arrogance. Although a god complex wouldn't probably be very delusional with Host's abilities, as it's not far from reality.

Also I'm just a sucker for moments when Host resembles more the Author in terms of violence and arrogance. Let the man go batshit. Not just in the sense of give him his bat but also just let him voice some absolutely deranged lines of thought that'll have even Dark show slight concern.

Can you think of anybody besides Dr. Iplier that Host wouldn't dare hurt?

Ironically, I think the Host is more delusional than the Author.

---

Eric stood in front of the door to the Host's library. He clutched his handkerchief in one hand-- knuckles curled around it, clenching, turning white-- and his book in the other.

He needed to go in, at some point. He'd been standing out in the hallway for a long time, now. Several others-- Bim, Yandere-- had passed him by, the latter wiggling her fingers at him as he blushed and refused to make eye contact.

All he could think of when he thought about going into the library was the sharp-edges of the Host's broken nails digging into his neck, the sickening thunk of his head hitting the inside of the same door he was staring at now, and the stars that had burst through his vision.

The Host's mouth was twisted into a snarl, and blood tracked down his cheeks, saturating his bandages and gleaming wetly against his pale skin.

He'd left bruises. And a cut that bled. Dr. Iplier had plastered some topical antibiotic and a BandAid on it, done a bad job hiding how upset he was, then had gone to the library and hadn't come out for a long time.

When he came back, he had the book Eric had wanted, the same book Eric carried now. "He won't hurt you again," Dr. Iplier promised, pushing the book into his quaking hands. "I took care of it."

Did he, though? Eric stepped toward the door. Unclenched the hand holding the handkerchief one finger at a time, and forced himself to tuck it in his pocket.

Then he opened the door.

It creaked outward, slow and begrudging, spilling shadow across the hallway, eating up all the light.

He stepped in. The door shut itself behind him.

It was hardly a second before the Host appeared out of nowhere, pressing close, one hand darting out to snatch a fistful of Eric's shirt and shove him back against the door. He was tall, taller than Eric, and he somehow managed to both loom and invade his personal boundaries. His breath smelled like blood, and his skin gave off a feverish heat.

"The doctor said- the doctor said-" he stammered, hands spasming, the book falling to the floor. "Edward said you wouldn't hurt - hurt - hurt me."

After a long pause, the Host reluctantly released him. "You." He bit out, stooping to snatch up the book, the hems of his jacket whispering across thinning carpet.

Eric could only watch, petrified, as he ran calloused, scarred hands over its binding. Only once the Host seemed satisfied that no damage had fallen upon its fragile spine did he dare breathe again.

"Get out." The Host told him. And he did.

[starfall-spirit]

@officialfeysandweek Day 6: First of Their Kind

🎨: the_megabee33

Feysand Week Masterlist // Read on Ao3 // SFW Commission

Summary: Rhys and Feyre spend Solstice Eve bringing a fantasy to life at the Court of Nightmares.

AN: Art is awesome, but I think I speak for many of us when I say it's twice as fun to have art and a story. It was an absolute honor to write this for my fellow commissioners, @popjunkie42, @moonpatroclus, @foundress0fnothing, @tunaababee, and @cauldronblssd

CW: Public sex, egregious use of "good girl", naturally.

"I feel slighted, you know."

Rhys looked up from where he was fastening his cufflink, slowly crossing the room to join his mate at her vanity, reaching for a comb to start running it through her damp hair. "How's that, darling? Have I neglected you somehow?"

She huffed, meeting his eyes in the mirror. They'd be attending the revel held in the Court of Nightmares this evening, just as they were obligated to every Solstice Eve. "Not recently."

"Holding a grudge, are we?" He twisted the upper half of her hair into a smooth knot, gathering a few pins to keep it in place. "What's this about, Feyre?"

"Do you remember the first time you took me to the Court of Nightmares?" Even now he held a careful mask, but Feyre could sense the subtle shift in her mate all the same. "Before we were mated, all pent up, waiting for something to happen. I wanted you to take me right there, Rhys."

He cursed behind her, taking a large step back to finish dressing himself for the evening. "You can't—" He let out a long breath. "You can't say something like that when we're expected somewhere, Feyre. Fuck."

There was no way he was unaware of what her desires had been, now several years into their mating. There were no true secrets between them. But she'd never discussed that particular moment so brazenly. Put it in bold lettering for him to read. "Can't I, though? It's a revel after all. I'm sure that after living this long our dear subjects know how we came to have two children. If they can fuck out in the open why shouldn't we do the same from your throne?"

"My little exhibitionist," he teased, shrugging into his evening jacket. The slight amusement she caught in his voice faded when he rejoined her at the vanity, gripping her chin. "You're sure?" She nodded and his smile returned. "They won't know what to do with you, wearing a crown and warming my cock." She shivered, eyes fluttering shut when he pressed a kiss to the corner of her painted mouth. "I hardly know half the time. Come, my love. Let's go give the sycophants a show."

~~~~~

They started with a dance. “I suppose we should be someone respectable this evening,” she’d told him upon arrival. He’dd taken her in his arms, pressed another kiss beneath her ear, kept his head bent low to whisper every filthy thing he planned for her tonight, before their court and behind closed doors. She made it through two songs before letting him lead her up the dais. She passed her own throne without hesitation and let him turn her around to more easily pull her down by her hips. She only paused a moment before a soft tap against her leg had her reclining into his chest, slightly off center so her legs were parted over one muscled thigh. Not that she had any intention of resisting if he wanted to keep her spread open to play with.

Feyre had no fear when it came to what the court would think tonight. She wore a crown from their High Lord’s family trove, was happily mated to a male with unwavering loyalty. There was a tender stroke of affection at the very edge of her mental shields that reinforced the thought all the more.

But most importantly when it came to the views of the people not-so-discreetly watching the two of them, in the near decade since she’d been Made her power had only grown, a force to rival their High Lord’s when his had gone unmatched for so long. Even if she spread her legs and bowed to his whim tonight they new better than to make a comment to degrade her when the walls of the Hewn City had ears of their own.

The proclaimed Cursebreaker could be just as ruthless as the male holding her.

“I love you more for it, you know.”

She let herself grant him a slow smile, tilting her head back to expose the length of her throat, almost hoping to feel his teeth there. “Show me how much.”

His thumb was already slipping under the dark panel covering her breast, absently teasing her nipple, the other four fingers dropping down to cup her breast from beneath. She barely started to roll her hips before his other arm banded around her waist. “Rhys,” she whined, curling into that little space he left open for her in his mind, content to stay there for the remainder of the evening.

“Keep still for me, darling. You want to be a good pet for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, High Lord.”

He groaned softly, the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Good girl. Close your eyes. You’re going to sit here and take what I give you.”

Feyre took a breath, deep and slow. Let her legs go limp against him and bit back her whimper when he spread them wide, her ankles caught between the cold throne and his knees. Cool air brushed over her center when he slipped his hand beneath the fabric, the chill made worse by the wetness already building there.

Rhys let out a low hum and she honestly couldn’t tell if it was a chastisement of praise for what he found waiting for him. Thoughts muddled, all she knew was that she was left open and waiting for him to torment or please. “I’ll always please you, little mate,” he said just loud enough for the nearest court members to hear. “The only question is how long I want to play with you first.”

She couldn’t suppress her whine at that. The promise in her ear, his fingers dragging up her center, thumb circling her clit. The shadows rising from the throne should have been warning enough that Rhys was up to something, but it hardly took a moment for the dark wisps to secure her wrists on either side of Rhys’ thighs. She still couldn’t contain her sharp cry when Rhys pushed two fingers into her core, the sharp curl of his fingers hitting a tender spot he was well aquainted with by now. She’d put herself in the lap of a male who could play her like a fiddle. And he had every intention of doing just that.

“Rhys.”

“Do we need to stop?” His movements slowed, the drag of his fingers gentling.

“No. Just wasn’t expecting that.”

He kissed her temple, keeping the slow pace, but pushing a little deeper. “Alright, darling. I need you to breath through it. If you want my cock tonight you’ve got to come on my fingers first. That’s it. Breathe. Good girl.” She thought to open her eyes. See how much attention she’d drawn, yelling like that. “No, pet. That’s not for you to worry about. I don’t want you thinking anymore tonight. The only thing you need to do is feel.” He gave her a third finger and she whined, teeth scraping his neck. “Good girl. Good.”

“Close. Need—”

“I know. I know, pet. I need you to come like this first. Then you can have my cock, sweet girl.”

She let out another whine, jaw clenched tight to keep from crying out even as she trembled in his arms. She was halfway down his length before she came back to herself, panting between her teeth.

“Such a good little pet,” he crooned. “Now that you’ve been satisfied, darling, I believe we have a few matters of the court to tend to this evening. A shame to mix business and pleasure, but such is life.”

“Rhys.”

It was hardly a whisper. It couldn’t be considered a true protest, but she needed something else in that moment. Not necessarily soft comfort. An anchor of another kind. He snapped to summon a nearby courtier and then his hand was around her throat. Not applying pressure, just a steady weight, guiding her to lean back into his chest, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

She felt like she was there for ages, still as a statue even as she soaked through the fabric of his pants. A good pet, there to warm his cock while he conferred with the members of their court. He let her get away with biting and sucking at his neck, but nothing more than that. By the end of the night she was trembling in his arms, overstimulated from the constant edging through the evening. In the years they’d been mated they never stayed in attendance for so long.

An hour or two at most, making an appearance for their people before winnowing home to celebrate Solstice Eve in their own way. But Rhys had always enjoyed testing her limits. Confessing she wanted to be his plaything, she should have known he’d drag it out until she was a desperate mess. She could have told him to stop. He would have respected it. Took her home and finished what they started in the privacy of their room. But part of her liked it too. Letting go of that control, endless thoughts and worries evaporating simply because she was told not to resist. To channel her focus to feeling alone.

Maybe she was her mate’s plaything tonight, but she was also cherished. “Always, darling. Never forget that.”

“Can we go home?” she whispered. He kissed her brow, lifting her off of him. A moment later her feet were planted on the familiar wood of their bedroom at the Riverhouse. “How long was that?”

“Three hours,” Rhys murmured, setting her crown aside and easing the dress from her shoulders before carrying her to the bed.

“It felt like years.”

“I’m sure,” he responded, not showing any sign of amusement, though Feyre was sure she sounded ridiculous. Vanishing his clothes with his magic, he settled in too, bracing himself over her, hips resting between her legs. “You’ve been so patient for me tonight, sweet girl. Gonna take you nice and slow. You can come when you need to.”

He did his best to ease into her, but it did little to help the sensitivity that had built through the past few hours. Whimpering, she started to push up the bed. Her plan was foiled when Rhys used one hand to catch her leg, rubbing soothing circles to the inside of her knee. “Deep breath.” She obeyed. “Again. Good girl. Again.” He peppered tiny kisses along her cheeks and brow, thumbs sweeping just under her eyes when a tear fell. “Alright?”

“Yes."

“Good.” He was careful, his movements slow and even until she wrapped her legs around his waist, raising her hips with his next thrust. The pressure inside of her was climbing, just starting to overtake that teetering edge she’d been standing on all night. “Don’t try to stop it, darling.”

Squeezing a hand down between them, he flicked her clit, sending her flying over the edge, nails biting into his shoulders in a weak attempt to ground herself. He swore when she clenched around him, shuddering through his own release before reversing their positions so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight.

For a good long while they stayed just like that, time meaningless when the only thing either of them cared to think about was the bond glowing between them. Shields down, connected in every way, they could rest for a while. Rhys was the first to speak, drawing back enough to meet her eyes. “That was… something.”

“A lot,” she murmured in response. “But I liked it.”

He bent to kiss her, stroking her hair back from where it clung to her sweaty face. “I’m going to draw you a bath.”

“Alone?” she pouted.

He chuckled, pecking her lips again. “I’m going to look in on the kids, then I’ll join you. How does that sound?”

Feyre sighed, pure contentment overtaking any other feeling she’d faced that evening. “That sounds perfect.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @reverie-tales

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.4k words // masterlist

If there was anything that Aelin loved in the world, it was sweets. Evidently it was so profound that Rowan had already picked up on it in the few weeks they had been talking. From late morning into the early hours of the afternoon, he’d taken her around downtown Varese and showed her all of his favorite spots. 

Just like he knew her affinity for all things sugar related, Aelin knew that he didn’t like to indulge in heaven on earth. When he led her into four different bakeries and sweet shops it was the best kind of surprise. He may not eat them himself, but he had clearly thought about her sweet tooth when mentally mapping out their day together. 

By the time he drove her back to her apartment, not only did she have bags full of decorations to add to her new home, but several boxes of various sizes filled with everything from cake slices to truffles. There was a specialty candy shop where she had bought three pounds of candy for her desk at work, all of them a rainbow of colors and flavors wrapped in crystal clear paper. The boxes of chocolates would be placed into her fridge to avoid any melting. She would pick through those one by one and add her absolute favorites to a note in her phone for future purchases.

Saying goodbye was bittersweet, the way the dark chocolate truffles had been as they melted to nothing in her mouth. Rowan had to be awake early the next day and she had a thick file folder she needed to sift through to finish finalizing a presentation. Despite how badly neither of them wanted it to be over, the short window of time they had was closing. 

While they both hoped to reunite the following weekend there was a solid chance of it not happening. Rowan had to go out of town Friday night and wouldn’t be back until Sunday morning. He offered to make the drive for the afternoon anyway, but it felt silly. With travel came exhaustion, and even though Aelin had no qualms about staying curled up on a couch with him, it just didn’t make sense. 

Still, they hoped, and spent a little too-long leaning against her apartment building and sharing kisses between Rowan saying, “I should go.”

“So go then,” she whispered back against his lips, her own parting to tug on his bottom lip.

“You’re going to kill me if you keep doing that, love.” When he called her that, it did anything but make her want to stop. It sent embers sparking through her blood, flames licking up her thighs and between her legs. The feel of his hands against the sensitive skin of her neck, fingertips dancing over her jaw and sliding into her hair had her feeling like a teenager all over again.

“What if you came upstairs just for a few minutes?” There was no harm in that, right? He could help her carry her things upstairs then leave. Probably. 

“I think we both know that minutes would very quickly turn into hours, and hours would turn into us both falling asleep in your bed.” His words said one thing: that they shouldn’t. The husky, rough tone of his voice, however… That was saying something else. 

“I’m not tired,” she murmured, allowing his fingers to angle her head ever so slightly. Rowan’s lips dragged hot kisses along her jaw and neck, pausing to nip just over her pulse point. Involuntarily, she dropped the bag of sweets she held in her right hand and yanked him closer by the pocket of his jeans. The evidence of his wanting was pressed against her stomach and she moaned. Devilish lips tipped into a grin against her collarbone at the sound. Why did everything he did have to feel so fucking good?

“You would be by the time I was finished with you. I would have you exhausted past the point of being able to say anything but my name.”

“Who the fuck ever told you that you weren’t good at talking to women?” It came out more breathless than she intended it to, and he chuckled darkly against her neck as he made a path with his lips right back to hers. One more searing kiss and he finally pulled away, thumbs making circles over the line of her jaw. A whimper slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it and Rowan kissed her again. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he wanted to do anything but leave. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised with one last peck to the corner of her mouth. It took every ounce of self restraint to let him pull away, taking his body heat with him. Despite the balmy air she felt cold. 

Hoping to the gods that none of her chocolates had received too much damage from their short fall to the concrete, Aelin gathered the bags and watched as Rowan got into his car. A single dimple popped in his left cheek as he threw her a final grin over his shoulder. 

He might have said she would kill him, but it was going to be the opposite. She just knew it. 

~*~

“That’s the worst news,” Aelin grumbled, face morphing into a frown on his phone screen. Her voice filtered through the ear buds he wore while walking toward one of the SUV’s that would charter him and his teammates to the stadium. This weekend he played the Devils in the Wastes. 

“I’m not thrilled about it either.” And he wasn’t. They were going on another two week stretch of not being able to see each other, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t make this weekend work. 

“You really don’t want me to drive down there?” It had been an on-and-off topic of discussion the last few days. Both of them heavily considered it. When it came down to it, it just didn’t make sense. If she did, his flight didn’t get in until Sunday evening. Rowan knew he would be wiped out from the match tonight, and she would be driving two hours to just sleep beside him. Monday morning she had to be at work at 9:30 at the latest, and it just wasn’t worth it to him.

Not that she wasn’t worth it– she was. The cost of those several hours of drive time paired with how tired she would be the next morning because of the commute? That was the part that he couldn’t justify. Once her physical health came into play, he was out. It would be another long week without seeing her, but he would suffer through it if it meant she was well rested and could function normally at work. 

“Of course I want you to, love,” he told her, voice dropping in volume to avoid any of his friends from overhearing. He would never hear the end of it if they did, especially if they got wind of how desperately he wanted to kiss her frown into a smile. It was impossible to do that through a facetime call, but the desire still crested in his chest.  Since when was Rowan Whitethorn such a ball of mush? “But you need to rest.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Besides, the two times we’ve slept together has been some of the best sleep I’ve ever had.” She sunk lower into her pillows, fighting back a yawn. There was a five hour time difference and it was already almost midnight back in Varese.

Rowan took a moment when he got to the car to toss his bag in the back before climbing in. Fenrys slid in next to him, immediately sticking his nose into business where it didn’t belong.

“Is that her?” Fen’s voice must have been picked up easily by the microphone because Aelin’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity. One look in the pup’s direction had him retreating out of Rowan’s bubble with hands up defensively. 

“Tell whoever that was I said hello,” she crooned, knowing by the look on Rowan’s face that he definitely wouldn’t be delivering that message. Another smile broke across her face. Gods above, she was beautiful. 

“Absolutely not. He’ll never leave me alone.”

“Is she talking to me?” Fenrys leaned over again, the top of his golden curls entering the frame of the phone, nearly blocking out Rowan’s entire face. “How the hell did Rowan manage to get a woman as pretty as you? I’m curious.” 

Fenrys wasn’t entirely wrong. How he had someone so blindingly beautiful to call at the end of the day was beyond him. All golden light, soft curves, and sharp wit, she was exactly the kind of woman he’d imagined himself being with. Sometimes he felt out of his mind insane when he thought about how quickly his feelings were growing for her. Like he was in the middle of the ocean, no life raft in sight. But he would gladly drown in it, in her.

Aelin’s laughter pulled him from his thoughts. Fenrys retreated out of frame when Rowan pinched his side sharply, the golden haired man hissing while swatting at Rowan’s hand. The girl that consumed his every thought was still smiling when he scooted over until he was flush against the door. Rowan tilted his phone screen so she could only see his face. “He’s a lot.”

“Is that your assistant couch?” 

“He– yeah. Yeah he’s my assistant.” Next to him, Fen snorted and shook his head but mercifully said nothing. Great. Now he had to deal with that can of worms. 

“I’ll let you go. Drive safe, text me all about the win, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” The win of his high school students. Fighting off a wince, Rowan promised he would before hanging up and stuffing his phone into the pockets of his sweats. The team logo burned against his thigh for the first time in his life. It wasn’t a big deal, doubted she would even care, but the longer he kept the secret the worse it would be when he finally came clean.

“Your assistant couch, aye? She still thinks you coach a high school team?” 

“I don’t want to hear it, Fenrys,” Rowan warned, voice low and promising pain if he pushed too hard. 

“You need to tell her. If you’re not worried–”

“I’m not worried and I don’t want to talk about it.” There was a finality to his tone that prompted Fenrys to nope right on out of that conversation. 

Truthfully, the only person he felt like he could talk it through with was Lorcan. But the towering brute in question was being so cagey about Aelin’s intentions that it wasn’t exactly on the table at the moment. Rowan understood his hesitancy, but they’d barely spoken of the sport. He knew she didn’t know who he was. That she wasn’t trying to wring money out of him the way… 

Rowan shook his head, locking those thoughts in an iron cage in the back of his mind. He would not go there. Not with her.

~*~ 

“How are things going?” Evalin Ashryver Galathynius leaned toward the camera as though she were buckling up to hear all sorts of tea spilled. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun, not a single strand out of place. Her white t-shirt was plain, but Aelin was certain a blazer of some sort was hanging in the office somewhere.

“Really well, I think. The team is amazing so far, I haven’t had any issues. Nobody is pushing deadlines I set or anything like that.” Aelin picked through the dish on her desk, selecting a vibrant green candy that she quickly popped into her mouth. Evalin waited for the plastic paper to stop crinkling before she answered. 

“I didn’t have a single doubt about that. I meant your work life balance. You have a tendency to struggle with it. You always have.” Something about the way her mother spoke had Aelin narrowing her eyes. Evalin’s lips twitched in effort to hide a smile, her fingers fiddling with the pearls that hung from her throat.

“You talked to Aedion, didn’t you,” Aelin asked flatly, lips in a firm line to hide a smile of her own. Vultures, the lot of them. Always so eager to share any shred of gossip where her love life was concerned. 

“Well, I certainly wasn’t hearing it from you!”

“I didn’t even tell him about it!” Aelin cried, throwing her hands in the air as she slumped back into her chair. Still, she grinned. “Lysandra swore she would still keep my secrets after they started dating, but I clearly can’t trust her anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Evalin’s bejeweled hand swiped through the air in dismissal. “Tell me about this young man that you met.” 

A heavy sigh loosed from Aelin’s chest as she turned the candy over in her mouth, the flavor unusual while she thought about Rowan. Where did she even begin? There truly wasn’t even much to report on, and she said as much. “He works a lot, coaches a high school soccer team— oh don’t look at me like that.”

“You secretly love the sport, admit it.” Aelin’s eyes rolled. 

“I loved watching Aedion play, but since he’s out and I have no obligations—”

“Outside of being the daughter and granddaughter to two men that own two different teams,” Evalin interjected, and Aelin winced. Both of her eyes squeezed shut as she covered her face with her hands, her mother’s gasp enough to have her peeking through her fingers. 

“What the hell does he think your last name is?” There were few instances where Evalin cursed, and that this had been deemed appropriate told her it was a bit more major than she had been chalking it up to. 

“He… doesn’t? It hasn’t come up.”  It really hadn’t.  She didn’t know his last name, either. Aelin would get around to it. How often had it been an issue before? She frowned, knowing the answer without having to say it. Over and over men had sought her out as a way to get their way in with her father, hopeful for a lifelong career.  Besides, how do you slide that into a normal conversation anyway? By the way my family is worth billions and I myself am worth millions, please don’t date me for my money. 

“You know I’ve had too many instances of people weaseling their way in to get to Dad, or Papa, or our money.  Not that I think Rowan would, because I don’t. But it wasn’t a first date conversation, and the last few times we’ve been together I genuinely haven’t thought about it.” It was the truth. Aelin didn’t feel like the daughter of a family with more numbers attached to the bank account than she cared to count. She was just, blissfully, Aelin. The same girl she was on holidays, curled up on the couch under blankets with her family around. No public image, staggering bank account. Just her.

“Does he know you founded and run Fireheart?” Aelin peeled her lips back from her teeth in a silly smile that was more of a grimace. Even on the computer camera, she could make out the faint tinge of green that stained her lips. “Gods above, Aelin.” 

“He thinks I teach dance and piano at local studios.” Her words were mumbled and muffled by the hand she’d placed over her mouth. “Which isn’t a lie! I do teach dance and piano. Just not… currently while opening the new office.” 

When she said it out loud, it was so, so, so much worse. The blossoming relationship was already built on a lie. It wasn’t one that really affected anything, but it was still a lie. Even if it was just by omission. 

Evalin opened her mouth to speak, but Aelin opened hers first and let the candy fall from her tongue onto her desk. Instead of whatever she had been about to say, her mom snorted despite her brows knitting together with worry. 

“What?” Aelin asked, using a tissue to toss the candy into the bin beside her. 

“You look a little pale, my love. Are you feeling okay?”

“It’s probably the lighting in here,” she gestured toward the ceiling her mother couldn’t see. The sun had set a while ago, leaving the fluorescent lights to cast an unflattering light over her features through the camera. A mental note was made to do something about light fixtures in here before saying, “I should go. I have a few things to finish up before I head home.” 

“I want to hear more about this man, Aelin. I mean it.” 

“I’ll tell you everything as soon as there’s a development,” she swore, grabbing her water bottle to wash away the odd taste the candy left in her mouth. 

As soon as their goodbyes were said and the call was ended,  Aelin fished through the bowl,  plucked out every green piece within, and dumped them all in the trash. 

~*~

An intensely severe frown pulled her lips down as she sighed and shoved the bowl of pasta she made as far from her as she could manage. Something had smelled just a little wrong while she was cooking, but she managed to wave it off as the scents of dinner mingled with the air fresheners she had plugged into the wall. It appeared that a fridge clean out was in order because the pasta just tasted bad. Aelin wasn’t a chef by any means, but typically the meals she made were better than this. A sour and metallic taste lingered in her mouth despite her desperate attempts to wash it away with water, soda– anything. 

She hadn’t felt well all day. In fact, the golden blonde had appeared peaky enough that several of her staff members inquired about how she was feeling. Even though she didn’t want to, Aelin had ended up leaving for the day a mere three hours after arriving in the office, barely making it through a meeting with her entire staff. When she got home she parked herself on the couch after making a simple pasta with garlic and basil which clearly hadn’t worked out. Neither had dinner the night before — something about the chinese take-out made her violently gag and spit it back into the container. It was now in the trash, a graveyard for everything she’d tried to consume in the last twenty-four hours.

It was easy to decide against eating— she wasn’t really hungry. More than anything she was trying to eat because she needed to. Breakfast was commonly skipped and normally by noon her stomach was rioting to be filled. Now, however, she found herself sinking into the couch and tugging a blanket over her body for warmth. All she wanted to do was sleep. 

Less than five minutes later, a storm of nausea, fatigue, and dizziness overwhelmed her. Aelin’s mouth began to water, a sign that soon bile would be rising up the back of her throat. She stumbled through her apartment, knees slamming onto the tile of her bathroom floor just in time for her to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Tears heated her eyes, pricking at the corners as she hurled and hurled until there was nothing left.

As gross as it felt she rested her forehead against the edge of the seat, willing her stomach and breathing to calm. Chest still heaving in gags that produced nothing, she took several deep breaths through her nose and out through her mouth. It would help in the long run, surely, but the smell of toilet water clung to her nose so much that she could nearly taste it. Drool pooled in her mouth and she quickly spit into the porcelain bowl, wiping the remnants from her mouth with the collar of her shirt. 

 Hours seemed to pass before being able to muster the energy to rise on shaky limbs and head back toward her room. There were no thoughts but to slide between her sheets and pull the duvet over her head, the hope that sleep would cure all her problems.

The nap lasted for so long that when she woke, the sky was darkening. Shades of pink and orange and blue peered between clouds as the sun began to disappear below the horizon. Somehow she had managed to sleep the entire day without waking a single time. 

Aelin patted around the bed in search of her phone, remembering with a low groan that it was still in the living room. Though she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to provoke her weak stomach, she found it in herself to retrieve a bottle of water and her cell before returning to her bed. Steady and full deep breaths kept her from feeling she might be sick again as she typed out a message to Rowan, discarding her phone onto the pillow beside her as she turned on the tv for something to watch. 

Aelin didn’t even make it through the first episode before her body was lulled back into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

~*~ 

Hot water poured over his head, snakes down his body in rivets. Rowan would have been content to stand in the shower for the next few hours if it would ease the aches he felt all over his body.  

Lucky for him, tonight he would take a few extra minutes because they had played Varese tonight and the drive to Aelin’s apartment would be fifteen minutes instead of two hours. Though he had driven down with the team on a charter bus, Rowan would take an Uber to her apartment. Fenrys was going to drive down tomorrow. Sunday afternoon they would return to Doranelle for another week of grueling practice. 

Rowan shut off the water and wrung his hair out before wrapping a towel around his waist and heading to his locker. All around him his teammates shouted back and forth about the game, a few clapping him on his back when he passed. He had played particularly well tonight, leaving his soul out on the field like he did every week. His legs were sore enough to prove it. 

By the time he dressed, bid farewell to everyone, and made his way outside the Uber was waiting. In the safety of the backseat of the car he opened his phone to read the text he’d missed from Aelin during the game. 

I think I food poisoned myself. Entirely bed ridden. Save yourself and don’t come over tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. 

She followed it up with a heart emoji as if that would make him worry less. Like hell he wasn’t going to go make sure she was okay when he was so close. Even if he had been in Doranelle, or getting off an airplane, he would have driven to make sure she had everything she needed. 

Because of the late hour, nearly eleven at night, traffic was scarce and it was a short trip to her apartment. The contents of his overnight bag hit him in the shoulder repeatedly as he took the steps two at a time. It was irrational to be so worried when she said it was just food poisoning, but he knew of people that had made trips to the hospital over such a thing. Dehydration was a very strong risk if she wasn’t able to keep her fluids down. 

It bothered him just a little bit that he had to knock on the door and potentially wake her up, but the idea of her withering away alone was worse. With a firm knock, he bit the bullet and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Rowan knocked harder, unease making his stomach turn until he heard the soft padding of feet across wood floors. Moments later the door was cracked open, a pale and exhausted Aelin peering between the space she had created. It took her a before it registered it was him, and the frown that took up her entire face quickly turned to confusion.

“Hi, baby.”

“I texted you,” she rasped, pausing to clear her throat as she opened the door all the way for him. “Did you not get it?”

“I did, and you’re out of your mind if you really thought I would go back to Doranelle without at least checking on you.” Aelin laughed softly, barely letting him get the door closed before her arms were around his waist. She nuzzled her face against his chest and took a deep breath. Rowan carefully eased his bag to the floor before gathering her up in his arms and carrying her straight back to bed. A low whine escaped her lips when he pulled away, but he promised he would be back in just a minute. 

True to his word, he returned less than a minute later with a full water bottle in hand that he placed on her nightstand. Golden hair fell across her face as she sat up and took a tentative sip, then carefully lowered herself back onto the bed. Aelin was quick to snuggle up against him when he climbed in next to her. Kisses were pressed to her forehead, cheeks, nose, and a soft one to her lips while he brushed her hair out of her face.

“I’m glad you came,” she whispered, eyes already closed, her breathing evening out. 

“Me, too.” 

~*~

Aelin was, literally, sick and fucking tired. Though Rowan had taken amazing care of her, held her hair while she vomited the next day, and ensured she drank enough water to stay hydrated, the food poisoning seemed to linger over the course of the following week. Two days ago she had been feeling absolutely perfect and thought it was over, but the next afternoon half the office heard her throwing up. 

Most of the week she’d been locked away in her office, forcing herself to make it through each work day until it was time to go home. Every night she was getting a full night's sleep– gods, she was getting more sleep than she had in years. But she was just so wholly exhausted right down to her bones that she had little energy for anything else. 

By the time she managed to crawl up the stairs and fall into bed, she was almost asleep before her head even hit the pillow. Twice this week she had woken up in the same clothes she had worn the day before. It was so out of character for her, but she had been really sick, and it did seem to be sticking around. Whatever she caught, her body couldn’t shake. 

It was why she was working from home, her laptop open and papers scattered around her bed. If she was contagious, she wasn’t going to expose her employees more than she already had. Not only could she not have half the office out for a week, but she cared about them too much to risk it. 

On her lunch break she had just made a bowl of chicken noodle soup when her cell rang. She immediately answered, assuming it would be Rowan calling to check up on her. Multiple times a day he would call and ask a laundry list of questions. Her answers never changed between morning, afternoon, and night, but he still asked to satisfy the anxiety he had. It was sweet.

“Hey,” she chirped, determined to sound less miserable than she was.

“How are you doing, babe?” Not Rowan, but Lysandra. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, leaning back onto the pillows and fiddling with the lid of her water bottle. “I’ve been sick all week. It sucks.” 

“Weren’t you sick over the weekend, too?” 

“Mhm. I didn’t know food poisoning lasted for so godsdamn long, but here we are.” In a living nightmare, dying a slow, slow death. Stomach muscles she didn’t know existed ached, her arms and legs felt like limp noodles. The bruises on her knees from kneeling on hard floors all week were probably permanent. 

“That’s because it doesn’t,” Lysandra said, curiosity in her voice. “Are you still throwing up?” 

“Not all the time, but it’s a solid fifty-fifty when I try to eat anything. The rest of the time I’m asleep because I just can’t seem to–” Perfect with the comedic timing, a gigantic yawn interrupted her– “stay awake.”

“Just curious,” the second word was drawn out, the end of it sounding like a snake. “When were you supposed to get your period?”

 Aelin snorted. Hard. Even though Lysandra had posed the question as a joke more than anything else, Aelin still swiped down from the top of her screen to double check what day it was. It wasn’t a possibility– she was on birth control and they had used a condom. Yet when she saw the date, her eyes were glued to the white numbers on the screen. Her silence drew out a little too long. Lysandra said something, maybe her name, but it didn’t quite register. 

“Let me call you back,” she said, throwing the blankets off her legs and scrambling out of bed. The work papers went flying, drifting slowly back to the floor. Even her laptop had been flipped over in the chaos but that didn’t matter. Not with the rising panic in her gut working its way up her throat.

She didn’t even bother to change out of her pajamas before running out of her apartment, down the stairs, and around the corner to the drugstore. 

~*~

Less than half an hour later, Aelin was propping her phone up against the bathroom mirror. The toilet was out of frame, but she felt like she could deal with this whole situation better if Lysandra was with her. It was silly to be so worked up over it, but she was also late. While her period did have a tendency to give or take a few days, sometimes a week, it had never been this late. As much as she could try to chalk it up to a million different things, she wouldn’t know a moment of peace until she was throwing the negative pregnancy test in the trash. 

“It’s going to be okay.” Lysandra was sitting on the couch she shared with Aedion. Thankfully he was at work and couldn’t witness the first pregnancy scare Aelin had dealt with since college. 

She pulled multiple boxes of tests from the paper bag and laid them out. Through the camera, her eyes met Lysandra’s and she had to brace her arms on the counter to keep from falling over. Her legs felt like jello and the nausea was setting in. This time, though, she felt it had less to do with being sick and more to do with anxiety. 

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “We were careful. I haven’t missed even one day of my birth control. I’m probably late because of work stress.”

“But we have to make sure.” Lysandra’s voice was soft, gentle. Though she knew they would be joking about this as soon as the tests reflected a negative result, right now her best friend was cool, calm, and collected. Everything that Aelin wasn’t. 

With shaking hands she opened the first box, removing both tests from their wrappers. She moved out of frame, the porcelain cold against her skin. It was an effort to control the tremors of her fingers in order to get the little caps off, and then she was forcing all the urine out of her body and onto the wicks of those stupid pieces of plastic. 

“You got more pale,” Lys noted, frowning heavily as soon as Aelin stepped back into frame. 

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled in response, putting the two tests side by side on the counter. “I feel like my entire nervous system is trying to escape my body.”

“Three minutes from now we’ll be laughing this off. It’ll be a fun story to tell Rowan the next time you see him.” Despite herself, Aelin laughed softly but it was swiftly cut off when her eyes glanced down at the tests. 

It hadn’t even been a full minute yet, but a response was staring up at her clear as day. She picked both of them up as ice slid through her entire body. From her head to her toes, everything was cold. Whatever blood pumped through her body had fled, soaked straight to the floor and taken her stomach with it. The shaking in her hands was bad enough that when she turned them toward the camera, it took Lys a second to be able to read it. They made eye contact again, faces mirror images of the other: wide eyes, open mouths, pale skin.

“Holy fuck.”

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