#after that i realized oh that WAS her moment of contemplation i thought she was gonna leave and come back like 'i thought about and this is

[gayofthefae]

I mean like I’m sure they’ll probably continue but....um

Marisol for Eddie and all but he didn’t turn back. When he stopped I thought it was gonna be like “no, you know what, I’m gonna turn around and ask her” and I was - like how I liked Natalia generally but not for the arc - “you go dude!” because short term payoffs and all that

But he didn’t. And now I’m confused and unsure if she is gonna be in the next episode. Or was that just an example and reminder to him? Did he run back in the store afterwards offscreen?

Oh, maybe he got her number from helping her and is just gonna text her. But then why not say anything in the moment???

Also, side note, I find it narratively odd like a choice that for someone who is supposedly not supposed to be in comparison to Shannon she was still someone he had met previously and didn’t keep in touch with and then ran into later, hmmm?

But I thought he was gonna date her and like MAYBE he still is but then why not make that the end of the LOVE episode for him? Why make it the run in but not explicitly put them together? You have set it up so that if they do end up getting together we officially find out in an episode NOT about endgame happiness. DUDE !

[kalashtars]

venting in the tags yippeee

[solbaby7]

I love your work, and I’ve been creeping on your master list and it’s so good 😭❤️❤️❤️… pls do one with Azriel and AFAB reader who finds out first that they’re true mates but says nothing at all, too scared that he’ll reject her cause he’s in love with Elain and she witnesses the whole necklace gifting/almost kiss between them and runs away, tries to avoid both of them for days and gets sick or injured or something and that’s when Az realizes it too and smut ensues 🫶😭❤️

Since You Have A Lover

pairing : azriel x afab!reader

warnings: angst babe, torture too (oops👀🤣), not proofread, swearing, probs typos, mild smut at the end, testing out the longer fics and then we’re gonna figure out if longer or shorter is better 🫣

thank you for the request bean! i switched it up a little to add some much needed angst but i’m so happy you’ve been enjoying 💗💗

oh and…educate a girl. wtf is afab?👀 respectfully ofc

—

Deep breaths and a lowered gaze is how you make it through family dinners as your stomach lurches uncomfortably.

The feeling never got easier, even after months of enduring the debilitating emotions that ensued from watching your mate love another.

It’s instinctual to be jealous—to compare yourself to Elain when Azriel refused to tear his eyes away. He was supposed to be your equal and yet the longer dinner went on with overhearing their hushed conversation and not-so-sneaky touches under the table; you felt anything but suitable in comparison.

Drowning those thoughts is surprisingly easy, a plethora of wine bottles are scattered about the table and not a single person bats an eye when you snatch one up for yourself. They’re too caught up in each other to realize you’ve slipped away; abandoning the suffocating love that permeated from every direction besides your own.

Fresh air helps a little, the stolen bottle of wine aiding in keeping you warm from the unforgiving nighttime chill. Eventually the cool bite doesn’t send shivers down your spine and you barely even flinch when bare skin meets cold stone, your gaze dipping down to lively town below.

Time moves too quickly as the observer, seconds bleeding into minutes until hours have passed and the bottle has nothing left to offer. There’s a brief moment where your foggy brain contemplates the effort it would take to retrieve another when your solitude is broken.

Two bodies burst through the balcony doors on the furthest side, mostly concealed by trees and flowers but you’d recognize those wings anywhere. A hand smacks over your mouth to conceal any sound, body freezing in place as you witness Azriel press Elain into the wall, his hands cradling the sides of her face lovingly.

A part of you shatters when you catch that sparkle in his eye, the eagerness in his movement to have her closer until her cheeks go flush and thick lashes flutter closed in preparation for the sweet kiss Azriel is sure to grant her.

You’re unable to stomach another moment and neither of them even flinch when you shuffle from your spot and make a bee-line for the exit. Tears cloud your vision, shoulders shaking and steps unsteady as you all but run through the halls, darting up the stairs and colliding right into another body. “Oh,” The startled sound is all but whimpered out of you and red eyes and splotchy cheeks are the first thing Nesta sees as you look up. “Gods, I’m sorry.” You scramble to your feet, retrieving the book she’d dropped in the collision. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching here I was going.”

“That’s not like you.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, unbound hair in unruly strands down your shoulders. “I’m not quite myself at the moment.”

Nesta hums in response, slender arms crossing over her chest and the fabrics of her nightgown shifts with the motion. Her gaze is scrutinizing, picking apart the truth from the lies and you’re infinitely grateful that she doesn’t call you out on your state of disarray. “Want me to walk you to your room?”

“No.” You whisper, hastily wiping your cheeks and attempting to smooth down stray hairs and wrinkled silks. “No, I think I’m going to go for a walk instead. I could use the fresh air.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

Nesta's neck cranes, slowly turning on the balls of her feet as you swiftly slip past her and make way for your chambers. Perhaps, it's the defeated slump of your shoulders that catches Lady Death's attention; that emptiness in your eyes that couldn't even be filled by the overflowing tears that stained your cheeks.

She considers waking Cassian--he always was better equipped to handle the emotions of others but you're already gone, disappearing behind the door without even saying goodnight. Something about the interaction forces her to linger, smutty book long forgotten as she waits to see you creep out that same room ten minutes later.

You're dressed to better accommodate the weather now. Thick leathers insulating body heat while subconsciously providing much needed compression--the tight fabric mimics comfort in its attempt to hold together the broken bits of you shoved inside.

Nesta's lips part, a million possible words resting at the tip of her tongue but you're quick to intercept, tone numb and alarmingly empty. "Don't wait up."

--

Being alone was supposed to be relaxing.

Distracting, at the very least.

But, all you could feel was the cool prickle of awareness at the back of your neck the whole time you sat at the edge of the mountains that overlooked the Sidra. Each time you'd slow your breathing and attempt to regulate the unusual beat of your heart with the captivating view of Velaris at night. While most were inside, the homes that resided there were full of life; lights glowing golden through their windows, laughs ebbing through the woodwork and creating a sense of serenity that refuses to wash over you as well.

Eyes narrow, shoulders squaring and fingers twitch for the sharp daggers strapped to your thighs. The thick trees you’d come through seems far less attractive now, branches craning out like grabbing hands with gaps of murky darkness that resembled giant mouths waiting to swallow you up. “Nesta?”

The chuckle that breaks through the clearing is anything but feminine. “Not quite.”

It happens too fast--the hand that smacks over your mouth to mute the startled scream that rips free. You push against the solid wall of a body stationed behind you, attempting to sway his stability in order to break free but a sharp sting in your neck renders you still.

The burn that follows is instant and before you can stop it, the unforgiving darkness becomes all you know.

--

The palpable tension at breakfast is suffocating.

Azriel's seething brood casts angsty shadows along his strong build, creating a visible wall between himself and his High Lord after the stern conversation he was forced into the night before. It runs on repeat in the shadow singers mind, the order given to back off on his affections towards the middle Archeron sister.

It seems cruel. A sick form of punishment that Azriel can't quite wrap his mind around because who was really in charge of the tragectory of his life? Azriel ? Or his High Lord?

The mere thought has his teeth grinding in silent contempt, his gaze flickering around the table before landing on the bare spot directly across from him. His brows furrow, confusion briefly sweeping away the rage as he considers the time--your usual schedule and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Where is she?"

A brief pause, the casual conversation slowing to a halt until Azriel catches a glimpse of something on Nesta's face--a strain of guilt he'd seen a million times on a trillion different faces. "Left earlier this morning." Polished silverware scrapes at fine china, pushing aside food that her body refuses to indulge in. "Said she was going for a walk."

Discontentment settles into Azriel's bones--a feeling he struggles to understand and Nesta's answer only exasperates the unsteady sensation.

"In this weather?" Grey clouds are thick in the sky, shades of slate and granite completely masking the sun as relentless rains pour down from above. "When was this?"

"Around three."

Cassian swears lowly from beside his mate, a sturdy hand resting at her shoulders but the regret lacing his features speaks plenty about the decision to stay quiet for so long. It was too dangerous, especially after the last few meetings Rhys had with Kier in Hewn. Change took time and the Steward and his men were complaining about that change taking too long. Hateful words were thrown in the name of the people of Hewn City and how they had desires too; dreams of a better world for themselves and their children but the High Lord’s better judgement rose question to the other consequences that could arise from giving what they were asking for. "Ness that was nearly eight hours ago."

The screech of Azriel's chair draws attention, a sudden boost of fuel being injected in his veins. "Did she tell you where she was going exactly?"

Nesta’s tone turns into vitriol, a subconscious reaction to the guilt that gnawed at her bones for not seeking for you sooner after finding you in your state. The reminder of tears streaming down your face flashes behind her eyelids; the choppiness of your words through labored breathing. How desperately you’d attempted to wrangle it together just long enough to make it to your room and suddenly the eldest Archeron feels that familiar uselessness creep beneath her skin. “She didn’t leave me a map with a drawn out route—she just said she needed air.”

“While crying?�� It wasn’t intentional, Rhysand seeing the flash of memory that Nesta had unknowingly projected; her mental walls caving for just a fraction of a minute before the iron doors had regained their formidable security. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Silverware clatters against the table, staining table linen in strawberry jam but no one seems to give a shit when the severity of the situation behinds to settle over the room. Nesta runs a hand against the material of her dress, smoothening out wrinkles and creases in order to avoid all of the eyes settling over her face. “I was just going to the library to read and we bumped into each other. She came from the balcony—I offered to walk her to her room but she just…” A sigh pulls free, jaw setting tightly. “I let her go.”

“Nesta.” Feyre’s slow shake of her head holds enough disappointment to have Nesta’s shoulders squaring on the defensive.

“I’m not some evil bitch, I waited up!” She seethes, the beginnings of those silver flames lapping at the steely grey of her eyes but the fight within isn’t truly directed towards Feyre or anyone else but herself. Because she’d felt the exact moment that you walked from the doors and winnowed away, that she’d made a grave mistake. Nesta’s shoulders sag, fingers bunching unforgivingly into the inky linen cloth until she felt the tips of her nails digging into the polished mahogany underneath. “I waited.”

Azriel’s already out of the room without a word.

He didn’t have a right to shame her because Azriel had a feeling he knew what sent you running.

His teeth grind together when thinking back to the night before when he and Elain had scuffled off onto the balcony at the witching hour; hoping their sins would be shielded by the dark cast of night. Too caught up in one another to consider another already occupying the space.

And, no matter how many times Azriel brushed his fingertips over the soft curve of Elain’s cheeks or vyed for a fleeting touch when passing in the hallways—the kiss he thought he wanted lacked the spark he was sure would flicker to life when lips grazed.

He’d pulled away so abruptly, brows furrowing in a stark line discontentment that was visible to anyone with eyes and then he heard the broken whimper of a gasp.

It’s been too easy to pass it off as Elain and far easier for him to forget about it altogether after Rhysand had found an embarrassed Elain rushing back to her room with flushed cheeks and an unsteady gait. He’d never heard his brother shout so loud, the veins in his neck protruding as he ordered Azriel to never even look her way again. That if a quick fuck in the dead of the night was what he desired then Azriel should wander along the cobblestone streets of Velaris and find himself a suitable pleasure house and pay for it.

The words act as fuel, Azriel’s senses working on overdrive; shadows scrying for information faster than ever before until they’d returned with something he could work with.

Dropped neatly in his palms were the cool steel of your twin blades that never left the secure holsters forever strapped to your thighs.

And they were soaked in your blood.

—

You recognized the suffocating dank smell that tended to fester when stuffed so far beneath the earth—the perfect dungeon.

One you’d been in countless times before, wearing that shadowy mask of indifference when masquerading as the soulless monster that became necessary to survive while in Hewn City. It took decades of assistance by Azriel’s side; an apprentice of sorts when the bounds of your affections had just begun testing its limits—wondering to see just how far you’d go just to be near him.

To get him to notice you. Your mate. Yours. Yours.

All of that seems so foolish now. Insignificant compared to the dire situation you’d found yourself entangled in.

Sharp twinges of pain throb up your neck, aches settling in from the uncomfortable position and it’s a strain when you shift in attempts to take in your surroundings. Fear lurches in your chest when your hands don’t move, restrained by chains that had you hung up like a prized hog after a fresh hunt.

Not good. Not good. Not good. So, not good.

“I always did love that look.” Immediately your spine goes ramrod straight, fingers clenching into fists over the cool bite of the chains as that voice washed over you like a bucket of water. Refreshing on your own terms and a horrible wake up call when it wasn’t. “When panic shifts into realization—truly a sight worth capturing. Especially when attached to such a delicate disposition.”

Delicate?

You’d never once used that word in ordinance to yourself.

Hearing it now, under such circumstances makes your heart lurch, it’s beat untamed against your ribcage and it takes every bit of strength left to smooth that look of utter calm across your features. “Come a little closer, let me show you how sweet I can get.”

The underlying threat is easily palpable and Kier is wise not to follow the bait; aware of the wounded animals ability to put up a considerable fight and he’s too coward to brawl fairly. “As tempting as that is, it won’t be me who plays with you tonight.” Your teeth bare into a snarl, pure promise rumbling from your chest and the sound encourages a chuckle from the male.

He’s not close enough to injure; to swing the brunt of your weight around for a well-timed kick that you knew would disable long enough to figure a way out of these damn restraints. But even with the distance between you, the resemblance between this male and Mor was striking. She’d inherited the shape of his lips, even if the words she spoke were far sweeter than the shit spewed from her predecessor. More similarities are spotted during your scrutinizing evaluation of him; the line of his nose, the shade of his hair, the confident air that oozed from his form—no matter how misplaced it was.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a finger on me.”

“So much fight in you,” Kier all but croons, his eyes raking across your body in a way that was less than savory. “I can’t wait to see how long it lasts.”

Breathe.

Years of training beside the spymaster had prepared you for this very moment and it’s easier to drift back into the memory of just another session; before things had gotten so complicated and he’d just been a friend eager to teach if you were willing to learn. Countless times you’d been in a similar situation—you, waking up tied up to some chair with ropes securing every possible joint in place and Azriel would leave you there as long as it took for you to figure your way out of it.

Allow the thrum of your heart be the beat that keeps you focused.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The cell wasn’t very large, four stone walls covered in grime and mildew with just enough space for two grown men to fit semi-comfortably. No windows. One door with a thin slot at the top large enough for two eyes to peer inside. No fire. No light. No warmth. No breeze, just stale, dank air that tasted of iron when your breathed in too deep.

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“What do you want from me?”

Kier inhales a greedy breath, his chest expanding in the ornate armor worn. It glistens even with no light—proving that even with his privileged title, he was never the one who got his hands dirty. “Many things,” He finally confessed, the words airy and nonchalant. He’s too cocky. Too comfortable. “But first, I want you to tell me about the Cursebreakers sisters.” He dares a step closer, arms crossed casually behind his back as a dark look begins to worm its way into his eye. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the Made ones and the power they stole from the Cauldron.”

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A smile works its way across his face—one so familiar it taints good memories with its stain. “I hoped you’d say that.” Kier walks past, the smell of his cologne burning your nostrils and you couldn’t imagine ever smelling tobacco and ash, bergamot and oakmoss without gagging ever again.

One knock on the thick steel door and slender male with hair like soot and eyes like a raven enters.

Your face remains a blank slate. Even as you take in the rubber material of his apron and the sturdy material of his leather boots. Well used gloves cover his hands and tucked under his left arm is a rawhide holder filled to the brim with all kinds of terrifying treats.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“Who are you?”

He takes his sweet time answering. Making a show of neatly setting down the holder and undoing the braided leather straps holding it in place. “You can call me the Butcher—everyone else does.”

“How original.” A thick swallow to quell the nerves; to shove away the shake that threatened to disturb your carefully curated cadence. The chains rattle as you shift, the tips of your toes just barely skimming the cool ground beneath you but not quite enough to relieve your wrists of the burden of bearing the entirety of your weight. “Well, Butcher—come make yourself useful and loosen my chains, will you? It’s starting to chafe a bit.”

His head shakes in his denial, barely acknowledging the departing Steward and the heavy thud of the shutting door—a lock sliding into place. “You don’t really want me to do that.” For donning such a threatening title, the Butcher is deceivingly soft-spoken. It sends your nerves into a fritz, triggering your fight or flight and for the first time since your eyes had opened and the darkness had waned; that delicately woven web of control slips from your grasp. “If you’re as stubborn as I think you are,” The sharp ring of metal twangs through the air and in his grasp is a perfectly polished knife a little too curved to be considered a scalpel. “You’ll need something to hold onto. It helps with the pain…for a time.”

Breathe.

“Then let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

Butcher chuckles low under his breath, full lips concealed by an ever fuller beard—the only thing about him that wasn’t perfectly trim and proper. “Not a fan of foreplay?”

Fingers curl around the cool bite of thick chains, your chest rising and falling in a steady pattern as you began to dissociate. An attempt to keep your mind as protected as possible from whatever was to come. “I’m more of a rip-the-bandaid kind of girl.”

Death clings to the pristinely polished rubber of his apron, the creak of his gloves filling the space as worn fingers ready around the hilt of his weapon. “You know,” Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Disappear off into that numb place deep, deep within your mind. Ignore the bite of the blade poking around already sensitive wounds. “Under entirely different circumstances, I think I might’ve actually liked you.”

The switch flips so fast—too fast for you to catch but it’s impossible to miss the devastating burn that ripples through you as flesh is severed, muscle flayed and so, so much blood spilled.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes down here without access to windows and you’re certain that it’s intentional, aiding in the psychological aspect of their torture.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The masculine baritone of Azriel’s teachings repeated like a mantra in your mind until it becomes the only thing distracting you from the sound of your flesh tearing, your blood drip, drip, dripping a misshapen puddle beneath you.

You force yourself to keep conscious, mentally noting anything your eyes are able to latch onto. Insignificant things; ebony hair, umber skin, a brand burned into the middle of Butcher’s left wrist in a symbol half-obscured by his gloves.

There’s a block on your powers, not quite faebane in its most lethal dose but paired with the wards humming against the walls, you knew using magic wouldn’t be an option for you. “Tell me about the Made ones and I can stop.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“You live there with them,” Butcher goads, crooked teeth exposed when gritted into that grimace of a sneer. Leather creaks under the playful twist of his wrist, the sharpened blade carving at muscle and obliterating sinew until you swear it reaches bone. “You share drink and food, you fight beside them in battle and you expect us to believe that secrets aren’t shared as well?” Every breath is ragged, a sheen of sweat coating your skin and unruly hair sticks to the curve of your neck. “Tell me what you know before I decide to get a little more creative in my methods.”

“Even if I did know anything, why the hell would I tell you? What would Hewn scum do with such knowledge?”

Your words have nicked a nerve, robbing the Butcher of that soft-spoken charm and replacing it with something more sinister. “You say the same thing to that bastard Illyrian you’re always seen around?”

A brow quirks, furrowing ever so slightly as it became more and more apparent that this was more than some spur of the moment kidnapping. Their questions, the desire to keep you immobile and battered but not enough to render you unconscious—not enough to be fatal. For whatever reason, they needed you alive and judging by the desperation that claws its way to the edges of Butchers voice, his curses and demands falling on deaf ears as your mind runs on overdrive to accumulate all the information you could before it was too late.

Each breath grows more labored, lashes fluttery and thick with exhaustion but just when it feel like too much—when you feel like giving up and succumbing to the sweet oblivion.

The rake of talons brushes against your mental walls. A cautious prod, testing your durability and utter relief washes over you when that feline lilt floods your consciousness. “We’re coming, just stay awake.”

The syllables barely reach your ears, sound faded by the obnoxious ringing that refused to subside—a side affect from all the fucking screaming and shouting. Swears slurring together the longer you snapped at the male before you, knees jerking and wounds barking in agony when the heel of your foot smashes so hard into his nose, his skull caves in; limp body dropping to the floor with a thud.

It’s all the strength you have in you and the death-grip you have around the chains is released all at once. Time moves in slow motion as you dangle there, vision darkening at the edges and that thrum of your heartbeat loud enough to distract you anymore. “Rhys they want— they want…”

So much blood oozes from your wounds, drenching your leathers all the way through and you were definitely feeling the affects. Your vision blurs, lids going lazy with just enough time to hear that voice—Azriel’s voice bellowing your name. “Stay alive.” He mutters over and over and over when he’s finally reached you, adrenaline pumping so high that he breaks the chains from their bolt with nothing more than his bare hands. “Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

You swear you try to obey the command, desiring nothing more than to keep Azriel's attention after finally being front and center in it. But it just felt so safe held in his grasp, tucked so close to his chest while he rids you of your restraints and applies pressure to gaping wounds.

All you wanted was one second. If you closed your eyes just for a second to gather your wits then you'd wake up and everything would be okay.

It sounds like a good idea-- so good that you allow the peace to wash over you like a cool tide washing over the shore in the early days of the burning summer; ignoring the desperate shouts from a vignette of voices that fades in the background like the haunting final notes of a song.

—

Confusion crashes at you in unforgiving waves, memories --or were they dreams?-- flash behind your lids with each blink. A dull throb pounds behind your lids, aggravating your mental shields to the point where you feel them wobble with each breath.

"You should stay still." Azriel's saying without giving you time to clear through the dense fog plaguing your mind. Instead, he busies his hands with fussing over your blankets, carefully tucking bare toes and pressing a five finger grip on your sternum when you attempt to rise from the soft cushion of a mattress that certainly did not belong to you. "It took Madja a while to get you all stitched up. Are you in pain? She left ointments and a few tinctures."

He's graceful enough not to mention the owlish blink of your eyes and their befuddled examination of his room until the crackly rasp of your voice cuts through the space; both of you refusing to address the elephant in the room. "My head hurts a little."

"Yeah," Shadows fuss with warm rags, sweeping it over your forehead and dabbing it along your cheeks while others occupy themselves with filling a glass of water to offer. "Rhys will be by later to apologize for that, I'm sure."

Your brows furrow deeply, nose scrunching when you sip your water. "Apologize for what?"

"You were in distress. We thought you were going to--" Azriel abruptly cuts himself off, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Rhys went in your mind, said that before you'd gone unconscious that you were trying to tell him something that seemed urgent enough to bypass the usual request to wait for permission."

Your heart begins to pick up speed in your chest and suddenly the desire to rise from this bed and run away was becoming horribly intense. Legs shift under the weight of a duvet that didn't belong to you, attempting to hide the way your sore muscles sink into the overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist. "Okay...and what did he see?"

"He saw you get taken," Azriel turns his back to you, expertly avoiding your eyes but the nervous energy buzzing off his skin was unmistakable. "He watched them carve you up and torture you for information about Nesta and Elain." The stabilizing breath he takes shakes his shoulders, the strong line of muscle barely concealed by the tight stretch of his leathers--leathers still stained in the blood of those who'd spilled yours, no doubt. "Rhys said that you didn't say a word. You didn't give them a thing."

"That's good, right?" A pillow is fluffed behind you, shadows doting on every need. "Then, why do you sound so upset?"

"Why do I sound so upset?" Azriel cruelly mocks, his aurate gaze positively smoldering with rage when they land on you. "Because, you almost died! You almost died in my fucking arms before I ever got the chance to—. What the hell were you thinking?"

The beating you'd endured does nothing to quell your fiery spirit, eyes lighting with life and lips running a mile a minute—too fast for your logical brain to keep up with. "I was thinking that they wanted information on your precious, little girlfriend." You all but spit out, childishly pushing away the comfort the duvet from your legs as you attempt to shuffle from Azriel's bed without disturbing the tight wrap of your bandages. Why the hell were you in here anyway? "I was thinking that maybe, it'd be easier for them to fucking butcher me rather than watch what would happen to you if it were Elain there in my place."

Silence stretches along the hardwood floor, cloaking up the length of the walls and muting out the low crackle of the fireplace; its flame gentle and calm in the midst of an emotional storm. "I almost wish you would've let it be her." Azriel fills the void, finally mustering up the courage to face you. "I could've survived that and whatever consequences came along with it because my mate takes precedence above all."

Just like that, all the spitfire you’d prepared in retaliation absolutely dissipates after hearing those two words. “Your mate.”

Azriel doesn’t confirm with words. Instead, he searches inside for the humming gold thread wrapped taut around his ribs, just above his heart and pulls. Fucking yanking at it with all his might and something sparkles in his eye when your body jerks in retaliation.

“You know?”

“How long have you known?”

Your heartbeat hammers against your ribcage, threatening to carve out a hole if that’s what it took to get to its other half. “A while.”

“And you’ve said nothing.” He says, tone sounding almost defeated. “Why wouldn’t you have said anything?”

“Because, Az,” The shadows have seized their tireless caretaking, sliding back into place beside their master as you lose the ability to accept the tender affection. “You wouldn’t have chosen me. Not before Mor and certainly not before Elain.” You’re quick to bristle over that part, not leaving any room for the spymaster to interrupt no matter how expressive his face became. “Besides, the bond is a choice not a burden and that’s what it would’ve been for you if I spoke up about it.” Pure determination is what allows you to bear the brunt of your weight , willing yourself to appear strong in the face of the male who could render you to cinders if he so pleased. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to shower the dungeon smell off of me.”

A childish whine of a noise is ripped from your throat when Azriel huffs out a breath, murmuring something about you being stubborn as hell before carefully picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. It's embarrassing, a furious blush burning at the apples of your cheeks as he starts the shower, adjusts the temperature and slowly sets you down. "Thank you for that but you don't have to do this. I can handle cleaning myself."

"You can barely stand on solid ground on your own."

"I'll manage."

"I know. What I'm saying is that you don't have to." You nearly faint on the spot when Azriel crouches down in front of you, his hands shaky but sure when unlatching the difficult ties of your fighting leathers. His teeth grit together when the fabric is loosened and carefully worked down your thighs, over your knees and tugged away from your ankles. "Just let me help."

Azriel is nothing short of respectful, you notice. He doesn't sneak salacious peeks at the endless expanse of bare skin that he exposes. Doesn't once mention the tremble of your breath or the way your fingers seem to bite into the flesh of his arms whenever a new article of clothing is removed and dropped to the floor. Even after he's eased you into the shower stream; standing before him, perfectly presented on a soaking wet platter—he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

Shadows thicken over sensual bits, providing a shield between you and the male diligently applying soap to rag. Each drag of the slightly rough material against your skin releases a tension you hadn’t noticed you’d been carrying and all you can do is watch as he rids your skin of the thick film left behind when magic was used to clear away muck.

Eons must past before words are spoken, a this time Azriel is more intentional when he chooses them--more intimate when he relays them. "I'd always hoped for a mate. Ever since I was a boy and my mother told me stories about two halves scouring the world to finally become whole again." You're malleable under his care, pliant when he lifts your arms to scrub underneath and damn-near boneless when he turns you with slippery hands to slowly work the knots from your back. "I had always hoped that one day, I too, would find my equal." Azriel clears his throat, returning back from whatever memory he'd been sucked into but the massage doesn't stop; it only drags lower. "Then so much time had passed and I started to wonder if I couldn't find them because I wasn't being forward enough but that only lead to misplaced affections and unfulfillment."

"Azriel, I'm not sure if I really understand--"

"I felt something for you—something stronger than friendship but I pushed it away. I ignored it and looked elsewhere because I can bare not being as close with Mor and it’s as easy as breathing to never see Elain again but losing you—ruining the peace I feel when I’m with you would’ve broken me.”

Tears well in your eyes, a thickness welling in the back of your throat and your skin burns where his fingers touch, lingering near the dip of your back and just barely curling around the curve of your hips. “Az, you don’t have to say any of this to make me feel better. I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“Then, please don’t reject it.” His warmth ripples over every inch of you, your neck craning to make room for the forehead he helplessly drops in the crux of your shoulder. The perfect line of his nose drags along the curve of it, inhaling the soothing notes of your scent mixed with his body wash. “Don’t reject me—this is all I’ve ever wanted.” Finally his fingers curl around your hips, the grip gentle but oh, so claiming. “Can’t you feel it? This rightness.”

Raw emotion swims in the amber tones of Azriel’s eyes when you turn in his arms; searching within those rich shades to find any detection of a lie.

Not one reaches your radar.

The line of your vision drops, creeping down his nose until it fixates on the plush pink of his lips. Instinct takes over, offering a gentle nudge until the space between two is eaten up and breath becomes shared as a line was about to be crossed—a prophecy fulfilled.

When Azriel’s lips finally brush against yours, it’s like a coil snaps, unleashing an animal he hadn’t known existed. Sure, he had plenty of experience with childish crushes and boyish infatuation. But this, Cauldron, it nearly takes his breath away with its intensity—the burning desire that rips through his veins like a forrest fire.

One kiss bleeds into two hands desperate to acquaint themselves with your body until all that mattered was you, your spymaster and the sentient shadows protectively surrounding you both. “Azriel,” You all but keen in his ear, chest heaving and hips rolling into the hardness of him pressed against you.

“Mate.”

A whimper cuts through your throat, neck craning to make space for the perfect bruises he was sucking into the skin there. “I want you.”

“You have me,” He promises over the frantic beat of your heart, tongue laving over the soft fat of your breasts. “Even when my bones are rotting in the dirt, I’ll belong to you. My mate. Mine.”

[jlheon]

౨ৎ — love exists, i’m full of it (psh)

pairing. situationship! park sunghoon x fem! reader genre. angst + fluff + suggestive wc. 2745 notes. sunghoon is toxic + implied they are involved sexually + kinda fwb (?) library.

🗯️ extra peng note. i wish i redeemed sunghoon more but you can take the rushed ending as you will </3

synopsis. when park sunghoon breaks up with his long time girlfriend he needs something to get his mind off her, you happen to be the perfect distraction : a girl who’s naive and has never had a boyfriend

it has been five months since you started your sort of 'arrangement’ with park sunghoon.

you met him at a party. a party you had no business being at.

the party was your average frat party. you were only there to pick up your drunk friend, only to be left banging on the bathroom door for twenty minutes.

she was there with some unknown guy and she told you to go home.

you tried to get through the sea of sweaty bodies when you bumped into someone's hard chest. his drink spilled all over your white shirt, making the drenched fabric completely see through.

you recognized sunghoon as the quiet boy from high school. he never spoke and he was barely present in class, you were bewildered when you watched him walk the stage at graduation.

he seemed to have recognized you too.

you were even prettier than he remembered. that night let himself be a little selfish.

sunghoon was quick to apologize and lead you to his room to lend you a clean shirt.

you ended up staying longer than expected.

sunghoon helped you out the wet shirt, throwing it in his laundry basket, and telling you that he would get out the stain for you.

when sunghoon helped you slip into one of his old shirts he let himself act without thinking.

“my shirt looks good on you,” sunghoon licks his lips as he shamelessly checks you out.

“oh,” you blush, staring at the floor. “thank you.”

“you know,” sunghoon comes closer to whisper in your ear. “you grew up well, i haven’t seen you since graduation.” that was a year ago.

that night, at the age of 19, park sunghoon had successfully taken your first kiss. well, kisses plural. sunghoon had also taken your first make-out.

after an awkward first kiss, you got the hang of it.

sunghoon found it adorable. he could tell you had never kissed anyone before, and you had even outright told him before he leaned it.

your kisses were innocent and shy, nothing like his ex-girlfriend.

he had to place your hands on his shoulders since you stood there with your arms at your sides awkwardly.

sunghoon tried to advance with you once it got steamy but you lightly pushed him off of you.

“sorry,” you apologized. “i’ve never done it before. that was my first kiss,” you sat on his lap with flushed cheeks and tousled hair from sunghoon running his fingers through it.

“that’s okay,” he reassured you. “i wouldn’t want to force you to do anything.”

you try to get up from your spot but sunghoon is stronger than you. he has a firm grip on your hips as he stares into your eyes.

“you’re leaving already?” sunghoon pouts, he's so cute you contemplate kissing him again.

“i mean yeah,” you scratched the back of your neck. “i thought you were looking for a hookup.”

“you don’t want to go further and that’s okay,” sunghoon explains. “but that doesn’t mean you can’t stay.”

you’re even more flustered at his words. why would park sunghoon want to be close to you?

you accept his offer nonetheless. slipping into his arms as you lay on his bed.

sunghoon listens to you ramble about anything. from what you did today leading up to this moment and to the fact you have never had a boyfriend before. you can’t stop talking when your nervous, and park sunghoon makes you even more than nervous.

you’re scared you’re talking too much but sunghoon’s short comments and hums tell you to keep going.

at 12:08 you realize you should probably get back to your dorm.

sunghoon walks you down to your car, holding you close as you weave through the crowd of drunk bodies at the party. he kisses you goodbye before you drive off as a blushing mess.

in the morning, you excitedly tell your hungover roommate about the encounter you had with the mysterious boy from high school.

she informs you the night before you met sunghoon was the very night he and his long-term girlfriend had broken up.

truthfully, hearing that made you feel kind of sad.

two days later he finally texts you that you can come over to exchange shirts.

when sunghoon sees you standing at the door of the frat he can’t help but think about how much prettier you look in the daylight.

clad in a cute pink dress as you stare up at him with your doe eyes, holding his shirt neatly folded in your arms.

he doesn’t think twice before letting you inside and leading you up to his room again.

you end up kissing for an ungodly amount of time. when you don’t feel like it anymore, you find the courage you had in you from the self-pep talk you had before coming and ask him.

“is it true you just broke up with your ex?” you ask while you lean on his chest as you're cuddled up on his bed.

“yeah,” sunghoon replies, eyes still glued to his phone.

“oh,” you frown. “are you over her?”

“it’s only been four days silly,” sunghoon chuckles, setting his phone to look down at you. “of course, i’m not.”

“oh,” you say again. “what is this then?”

“what is what?” sunghoon quirks an eyebrow at you.

“you took my first kiss,” you reminded him, hoping that would mean anything.

“oh,” he says slowly. “this could be a causal thing. you know while i’m getting over her you can get experience.”

“oh i see,” you look at the ceiling.

sunghoon moves down to peck your pouting lips. “so when you get a real boyfriend you’ll know everything since you learned from the best!”

that stung, but regardless you kiss him again to get your mind off of it.

now, three months later since the start of this arrangement, you’ve found sunghoon everything but casual.

for crying out loud, you’re sitting at a fancy restaurant on a date with sunghoon for your birthday.

“happy birthday ____,” sunghoon smiles as he spoon-feeds you the desert he ordered.

“thank you, sunghoon,” you giggle, eating the cake as he watches.

once you’re finished with your bite sunghoon leans in, pecking your lips and licking the bit of icing on the corner of your mouth.

not a day goes past where you don’t wonder why this hasn’t ended and why sunghoon doesn’t want to be your first boyfriend.

every time sunghoon’s name leaves your mouth you’re reminded of the time two months ago when you tried to call him hoon.

he ghosted you for a week after the nickname slipped during a heated make out session in your dorm room.

“i don’t think you should call me hoon,” sunghoon stands at your door, a week after the incident, a week after you last saw him. “you’re starting to sound like you’re my girlfriend.”

“oh,” you stare at him, the sleepiness leaving your body. “of course, i get it!” you force a small smile.

sunghoon enters your dorm at 2:18 am.

he walks towards your bed before getting comfortable under your covers with his arms open. you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace that night and well into the afternoon.

you take note of how he doesn’t kiss you the whole day he spends at your place.

you don’t know whether that is a good or bad thing. on one hand, maybe he is disgusted with you for calling him by a nickname but that wouldn’t make any sense considering the fact he has not let you go in the past six hours. though you hope that this means he finds companionship in you that is more than just the kissing and hookups.

you know you should have stood up a while ago but when sunghoon’s hands find their way into your hair to gently scratch your scalp you give in.

sunghoon and you spend the night together for your birthday. when you wake up skin to skin with him, you start to feel sick.

what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

you’re not even sure what you should label the relationship you and sunghoon have.

sunghoon is your friend. a friend that the first time you talked to him in over a year, took you back to his bedroom door and took your first kiss.

sunghoon is also the closest thing you have ever had to a lover. he’s taken almost all of your firsts. whether that is your first kiss or your first time. he takes you on dates and he never leaves in the middle of the night.

he’s always there for you when you need a ride after a night out with your friends.

which leads you to the latest encounter you’ve had with park sunghoon.

you were so drunk. unbelievably drunk.

it’s been five months since you have started seeing sunghoon and coincidentally the same month your best friend returned from her exchange student program abroad.

you went out for drinks to catch up with her and inevitably spilled your guts about the whole sunghoon situation.

and now you’re wasted with all of your friends with nobody to call and get you but him.

“____?” his raspy voice reverberates in your ear.

“hoon! oh my god, sorry! i mean sunghoon!” your cheery voice slurs. “are you busy?”

“it’s two am,” he responds sarcastically, but your hazy mind doesn’t let you recognize that.

“oh, sorry for bothering you then,” you apologize.

“i’m kidding ____,” sunghoon chuckes. “you need anything?”

“if it’s not a bother, can you pick me up?”

“where are you?” you hear his sheets rustle in the background.

“i’m at a club!” you giggle. “not sure which one!”

“____,” sunghoon sighs. “send me your location.”

“okay!”

when sunghoon arrives at your location he easily spots you drunk on the sidewalk. sitting on the disgusting pavement but you were too drunk and tired to care.

he gets out and carefully gets you into the passenger’s side of his car, buckling you in as you were too sleepy to do it yourself.

once sunghoon can get you inside of your apartment he helps you take off your shoes. carrying your tired body from the car to the hallway to your bed. taking off your makeup with some micellar water even though he saw makeup wipes in your cabinet because he knows they break you out.

he grabs a hoodie that he coincidentally had been looking for off your dresser and changes you out of the short red dress you had been wearing.

sunghoon tucks you under the covers before he sits on the empty side of the bed. he checks his phone to see it is way past three am and he decides maybe he should just stay the night. you’d think that after how long you two have been seeing each other you’ve spent the whole night together but sunghoon always insists on leaving or driving you home. he does this because ‘we aren’t a couple’.

“why are you still here?” you break the silence, which shocks sunghoon as he was sure you were completely knocked out.

“you scared me,” sunghoon breathily chuckles. “thought you were asleep.”

“‘m waiting for you to leave,” you yawn out, snuggling further into your duvet, sunghoon can’t help the smile breaking onto his face at the sight.

“why?” he questions, climbing under the covers next to you.

“don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of you,” you answer meekly. “you make me nervous.”

“don’t be silly ____, it’s just me,” sunghoon attempts to reassure you.

“that’s the problem,” you mumble, confusing sunghoon further. “being around you is weird because we’re re not dating but sometimes it feels like we are.”

“i guess so,” he stares at the side of your face, admiring how you look even prettier without makeup on while he can, given the fact you never let him see you without makeup. he doesn’t understand why. “but i’ve seen you in so many different states.”

“i kind of hate that,” you confess. “i’ve always wanted to fall in love. you check off almost everything ten year old me wished for, except for the fact we’re not dating, and you like me like that anyways.”

you never fail to make park sunghoon speechless.

“i just know little me is screaming at me,” you giggle, though your mood changes drastically. “i know that love is real because i exist and i’m unfortunately full of it, but i think i have too much already so nobody is going to give me any back.” you shift away from him.

“that’s not true,” sunghoon takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“then why can’t it be you?” your voice falters as tears well up in your eyes. “i want it to be you.”

“i can’t answer that right now,” sunghoon says apologetically, holding you closer.

he does not get any sleep that night. his eyes don’t even shut, only closing for a second to blink. sunghoon cannot stop thinking about your tearful confession.

your words replay in his mind like a broken record.

he wants to be with you so bad but he fears that once you establish your relationship he’s going to be the worst boyfriend imaginable. since that’s what his ex and him had constantly fought over, leading to the demise of their relationship.

he’s never shared with anyone how toxic him and his ex were.

so when he met you that night at the party he let his selfishness take over him. the way you were so sweet and shy towards him was so refreshing.

sunghoon knows it was wrong to string you along so he could use you to get over his ex girlfriend, but he couldn’t just let you go, but he also couldn’t jump into another relationship so quickly.

he failed to consider how this whole arrangement would make you feel. you’d been seeing each other for nearly half a year now, way longer than either of you anticipated.

but now he knows that you stuck around even though it was doing nothing but hurt you just because he had you completely wrapped around his finger.

you wanted to love him and he didn’t think he could be good enough to give you the love you dreamed about.

sunghoon thought he was a total douche.

the next morning you're surprised to feel a pair of arms around you. maybe you finally broke out of your shell last night and met someone at the bar who wasn’t sunghoon.

sunghoon can’t bear to hurt you, but it seems like he’s already been doing that all along.

“you’re awake,” you hear his familiar voice and slip out of his hold, sitting up, and scooting away.

“i am,” you reply, looking down at your clothes. “why are you still here?”

“am i not allowed to be?” sunghoon jokes, his eyebags prominent.

“i mean,” you scratch your head. “after what i said last night i thought you would hate me. this is only supposed to be casual and i ruined it.”

“you didn’t ruin anything,” sunghoon sits up and reaches for your hand to interlace it with his. “it’s my fault for-”

“no, don’t blame yourself. i knew what i was getting into and i assumed you would like me given time. i just hope we can still be friends,” your glossy eyes bore into his.

“i don’t want to be friends-”

“wow, okay. after i just spilled my guts?” you pull your hand away from his and back away.

“stop cutting me off,” sunghoon runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “i want to be your boyfriend.”

“am i still drunk,” you whisper to yourself as you check your surroundings.

“you’re sober now,” sunghoon reaches out for you once more. “let me be your boyfriend, please?”

you stare at sunghoon’s desperate and tired expression and crack a smile. throwing yourself into his lap. “not yet,” you say, muffled against his neck, as close to him as possible.

“this can be a restart,” you suggest, gazing up at him. “i think i’ll need some time.”

“can’t be a restart when i’ve seen every inch of you,” sunghoon smirks as he looks down.

“shut up!” your ears redden as you push his shoulder.

“take you all the time you need,” sunghoon pecks your forehead. “i’m always waiting for you and i’ll prove myself.”

[xxsabitoxx]

Rolling Over - Dad Megumi

“Alright, let’s try again.” You began to laugh as Megumi set your four month old daughter on her stomach – something she absolutely despised. “Stay strong, Meg.” you teased him softly, laying on your stomach along with your daughter to try and ease her whining. 

“Yeah yeah…” softly, under his breath but just loud enough for you to laugh again. You had been on the floor for the last thirty minutes trying to get your little girl to roll over. She was four months old after all, it was time to start hitting those huge milestones.

She had gotten close a few times but Megumi couldn’t stand to let her whimpers turn to cries and would pick her up right before she teetered over and successfully completed the task. 

“C’mon baby girl, roll over.” You encouraged softly, watching her little face contort in dislike as she realized she was yet again belly down on the floor. “Turn over so you can see your daddy.” you added as her wide eyes shifted from the floor to your face. “C’mon little girl.”

At the sound of Megumi’s voice, her head raised a little higher, becoming more alert. You laughed softly “Gotta love the lack of object permanence.” If Megumi was out of her sight, she was convinced he was fully gone. But, hearing his voice, she was beginning to rock back and forth in effort to look for the source. “There you go, you're getting there!” 

You smiled widely as her little face contorted with the effort to figure out how to get to her back. “I’m right behind you, roll over for daddy, hmm?” Megumi cooed softly, hands resting by her sides just in case she figured out how to turn but turned too fast. 

After another moment of struggling, you notice her face morph into the one she makes right before she starts crying. “Careful, Meg. She’s about to start.” You hated her crying just as much as Megumi did, swearing you’d never heard such a sad little cry in your life. But you both needed to remain strong or she’d never hit this crucial milestone in her development. 

“Wonderful.” Megumi grimaced as her first little whimper reached his ears. The sound managed to break his heart every time, he didn’t even think that was possible. “Come on baby girl, you just gotta roll over and daddy will be right there.” You tapped your fingers on the floor right by her face, drawing her attention for a moment to distract from the crying. 

Again, she began to teeter in one direction, trying to gain momentum to roll herself onto her back. “I’m right here, my little love.” You smiled at Megumi’s nickname for your daughter, it was so soft and genuine everytime it slipped past his lips. 

You both expected her to start crying again, but, as if by some miracle, she got herself halfway towards a roll before falling back into her original stance. “OH!” You squealed softly, careful not to startle her and destroy any progress. “Keep talking to her, Meg!” He blinked a few times to recollect his thoughts, pride already swelling in his chest at her near-accomplishment. 

“You almost got it…” he encouraged softly, moving to bend down. You watched with a grin as Megumi moved to lay beside her, watching her little head wobble before turning to meet his gaze. At the sight of her daddy, a gummy little grin appeared on her face followed by a breathless little giggle. “Hi my love.” He smiled sweetly at her, making your heart ache at the cuteness.

“Can you roll over for mommy and I?” he questioned her, pouting to mimic her own as she seemed to seriously contemplate his question. “Come on, one roll and we can be all done.” he tried to bribe her, glancing at you with a smile. “Mmhmm, daddy’s right, baby. One roll is all we want.” You had to admit, it was already impressive that she had gone this long without crying. 

It seems you and Megumi’s distraction attempts were really working. 

Your little daughter rocked herself again, teetering in Megumi’s direction once, twice, and then finally she was on her back. You and Megumi froze, the room so silent you swore you’d hear a pin drop. After a second your eyes locked, laughter bubbling in your chest as you reached forward and scooped her up. “There you go! Mommy’s so proud of you!” 

You squealed, showering her face in kisses as your eyes watered. Even the smallest things have you tearing up nowadays. It seemed Megumi had also gotten caught by the sniffle-bug, wiping his eyes quickly as he pushed himself into a sitting position. With your daughter in your arms, you scooted over to Megumi so he could congratulate her too. 

“You’re my smart little girl, hmm? You rolled over for the first time ever.” He smiled at her, arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. Your back pressed to his front, melting into his embrace as you held your daughter in front of you. She clearly didn’t understand the significance of her achievement, but seeing her mommy and daddy had a smile on her face yet again. 

“Stop growing up so fast.” Megumi whispered, voice a little hoarse from getting choked up. You had to admit, even though she was only four months old, you had to agree. “It feels like just yesterday we realized we were having you, and now you’re rolling over.” Again, she didn’t understand the significance, but hearing her parents voices had her cooing in response. 

“She’ll be off to college before we know it.” Megumi sighed, head resting on your shoulder as he nearly made himself sick over the thought. “You’re starting to sound like Gojo, quit getting ahead of yourself.” You chided, laughter in your tone as Megumi audibly groaned from the comparison. 

“I guess I should text them, your Auntie Nobara, Uncle Yuji, and your honorary grandpa will be thrilled.” Gojo had been adamant on being anything but grandpa, which made grandpa stick even further. Even Yuta, Maki, and Panda were referring to him as grandpa Gojo.

“Oh shit, we should have recorded it.” you sounded a bit defeated at the realization. “Nah, she’ll roll over plenty of times after this. Her first will be our memory.” You sunk further into his embrace, pulling your daughter close to your chest as she began to doze off. 

“You’re right. Rolling over is tiring work, how about a family nap?” You giggled softly as Megumi melted into you. “Sounds amazing.” 

[itsnevercasual]

Infinity

pairing: college au!harry x reader

summary: The guy next door likes to blast music. You maybe-sorta-kinda really like him.

warnings: cussing, not edited, im not in college idk how it works…

—

You didn’t want to be annoying. Truly, you didn’t. But you and your roommate, Daisy, were asleep.

Or…

Trying to be.

It was difficult with the blasting music next door.

And honestly, you had tried to avoid it. Had let them play their loud music for months now. Sent Daisy over to tell them to shut up so you didn’t have to (because despite her name, she was terrifying when she got mad).

But.. really?

It had to be, like… three in the morning. They’d been blasting it since nine pm, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

So, clad in your bunny slippers, pajama pants you stole from someone (don’t ask who, you don’t remember) and a Fleetwood Mac shirt four sizes too big (because that was all they had at the thrift store), hair pulled back into a very messy braid, and glasses you rarely wore because you liked yourself better with contacts (mainly because you were so blind your glasses made your eyes look bigger), you stomped on over.

You pounded on the door (not really.. your knock barely made a sound), and miraculously, they heard you and opened the door.

A boy opened it.

No. Not a boy.

A cute boy. A very, very cute boy.

You blinked in surprise. You had expected girls… were boys even allowed on the same floor as girls?

“Ehm.. can I help you?” he asked after you were silent for a little too long.

“Oh. Right. Uh.. would you mind turning the music off? I have a final tomorrow, and.. I’m next door, so.. I can kinda hear it. On full blast. Um.. you don’t have to turn it off.. just.. down..”

He sighed, turning into the dorm to shout, “I told you to turn it down, Lou!” he turns back to you. “Yeah. Sorry. My mate’s practically deaf, I’m pretty sure. Doesn’t realize how loud he is… you say you’re next door?”

You nod.

“You got the alarmingly scary roommate named after a flower?”

Another nod. Why was he making small talk? You wanted to sleep.

“Ah. Glad y’didn’t send her over.”

He eyes you up and down, giving that sentence another meaning you didn’t really like.

"Right. Well.. just.. turn it down, please," you give an awkward smile and nod.

When you turn to walk away, he stops you, "’ey-- little rude to not give me y'name, isn't it?"

"Oh. Uh.. I’m Y/N."

He grins, "Well, hello, Y/N. I’m Harry."

You nod, pursing your lips as you pull on a strand of your hair.

There’s a beat of silence, and you contemplate just throwing yourself off a bridge, honestly.

"I'll see you around, Y/N."

With that, you scurry off to your room. Despite being uncomfortable in the moment, it wasn't because of him. You just were horrid at talking to boys.

-

A few weeks passed, and you accepted the fact that maybe you wouldn't see your neighbor as much as you hoped you would.

And really, you weren’t surprised. You’d never seen him before, why would that change? It made perfect sense that he remained as elusive as he had apparently always been.

Well, that is, until you were dragged to a party you really didn’t wanna go to in clothes you really weren’t all that comfortable wearing at your house— let alone at some douchey frat party.

The first hour was fine because it was early, so only a handful of people were drunk.

The second hour was less enjoyable, the longer the party went on, the more people drank.

In the third hour, your friends shoved a drink in your hand, and once you finished it, they sucked you into taking far too many shots.

The fourth hour was when you started to get antsy. You were pushing over the edge of just being a little too tipsy, and it was hot and sticky and crowded and had it always been so hard to breathe?

You shoved your way out of the crowd and onto the empty (or so you thought) patio, and exhaled. It was less of a patio and more of a balcony, since it was the second floor— but it was huge. 20 people could comfortably stand on it and not be crowded.

Your heels clack on the concrete as you walk to the edge of the patio, leaning on the railing as you take deep breaths.

“That bad in there?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the familiar british voice. You spin around with wide eyes and a hand over your heart, “Jesus Christ! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry!” he raises his hands in defense. “I thought you saw me!”

“Clearly not!” you pause and take a deep breath, “Sorry— I’m kinda drunk and I hate being drunk. I’m paranoid enough when I’m sober, so when I can’t even walk straight I’m extra jumpy and anxious. And I honestly didn’t even wanna come out tonight, my friends just dragged me along and put me in some ‘going out clothes’ that I don’t think I even have the confidence to wear alone in my dorm! And—“

You pause at his grinning face.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry, I get nervous when I’m drunk. Did I already say that? I think I did. Anyway, I talk a lot when i’m nervous, and I don’t really know how to talk to guys in the first place. If I get too annoying just tell me to shut up and I will. I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the— I’m still going. Sorry.”

“No harm done. I quite like your nervous rambling.”

Your cheeks heat up.

“So what made you run for the hills to come out here?” he asks, standing up from the chair he was sitting on.

“I’m not really a party girl.”

“Yeah, I could’ve guessed that.”

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not in a bad way!” he rushes out. “But you just.. are a jumpy person, like you said. Like a bunny. I’d be surprised if you went to parties every weekend on your own free will.”

And really— you have to laugh, because he’s right. “Yeah. I’m definitely not a party girl. And I am not the girl who wears this stuff. Not that it’s bad! But.. I’m just not.. comfortable in this,” you shrug, pulling at the short skirt.

The outfit your friends had picked out consisted of a white, very mini mini-skirt, a white cropped tank top, and some black heels. If the skirt was just a little longer, perhaps a little looser, you’d be fine. If you could at least cover up your belly button— you’d always hated it for no real reason except for the fact that, as embarrassing as it sounds, belly buttons freaked you out.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you look great,” he smiles.

You probably look like a tomato’s long lost sibling by now.

“Thank you.”

“But.. I also think you look great in pyjamas and bunny slippers and glasses and that little pout telling me my music’s too loud.”

“Hey!” You cross your arms.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughs as you try to smack his arm. “So, if you don’t like parties, why’re you here?”

“My friends wanted to go out,” you shrug. “I was done the second we got here.”

He pauses, as if mulling over a thought in his brain and you desperately want to know what, before he speaks, “D’you wanna go home, then?”

You blink at him, “What? I— I mean, yeah. I do, but I’m kinda drunk and all my friends are plastered—“

“I’ll drive you,” he cuts you off before you talk yourself up a wall. “Live next door t’ya anyway.”

“Really? I— are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered if I was. Let’s get y’out of here.”

-

The trip to the car took far longer than necessary, mainly because you ran into your friends doing shots and got sucked into one more round, which turned into ten more rounds.

By the time you were done, Harry was half carrying you out. He’d long since looped your arm around his shoulders, and his own arm around your waist as you stumbled towards the car.

“Alright,” he sighed once the two of you finally reached the car. “In you get, love.”

You can’t even stop yourself from grinning ridiculously as he helps you get in the passenger seat and buckle.

He shuts your door and slides into the driver’s seat. You stare at him. He smiles, but doesn’t call you out.

He turns on the radio, and you gasp. “I love this song!”

“Do you, now?” he laughs, and it’s almost teasing. Or, perhaps, it is, and your brain is too fogged up to comprehend that.

“Yes!” you exclaim, turning up the volume as Cruel Summer blasts through his car.

“I’m drunk in the back of the car! And I cried like a baby comin’ home from the bar! Oh, oh!” you sing, extremely off key.

“Quite the singer,” he comments.

“Said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true! I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you! And I snuck in through the garden gate—“

-

“You’re pretty,” you comment as Harry helps you up the stairs.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You have nice eyes. And hair. Your hair’s really soft.”

“Don’t think you’ve ever touched my hair, so I’m not sure how you came to that conclusion, babe.”

You grin. Babe. “It looks soft. Duh.”

“Oh, of course. Duh.”

You think he’s teasing you, but you don’t care to tease back or get offended.

“Alright. Where’re your keys?”

“My keys! They’re… with Daisy.”

“No spares?”

“No,��� you pout. “Do I have to sleep in the hallway?”

“No, ‘course not,” he shakes his head, pausing. “Ehm.. new plan. Gonna set you up in my bed, yeah? That okay?”

You nod with a hum.

He moves you one door over and fumbles with the key before finally pushing the door open.

“Bed’s right here, love. In you get, c’mon.”

He helps you sit down on the bed, and you rest your head against the wall.

“Hey, hey— don’t sleep yet.”

“Why?” you whine.

“Gotta get you comfy,” he explains, tugging your shoes off. He quickly goes to the dresser before pulling out pants and a shirt.

“You need help changing?”

You frown and nod.

“Alright. I won’t look, love. Promise.”

True to his word, Harry turns you around so your back is to him as he helps you get out of the tank top. He quickly slips the t-shirt over it.

He lays you down on the bed and slaps a hand over his eyes as he pulls your skirt down and helps you into the pants.

“Alright.. better, yeah?”

You nod, lying on the pillow. He helps you under the covers that smell like him and gives you an extra blanket.

“M’kay. Gonna sleep on the top bunk, yeah? Just say my name if y’need me.”

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“‘Course.”

He moves to walk away, but— “Wait, Harry—“

He turns back to you, “What’s wrong?”

You lift a hand up and run it through his hair. “I was right. It’s soft.”

He laughs.

“Go to bed, babe.”

“Sir, yes, Sir.”

He knew you’d probably be embarrassed in the morning, but he wouldn’t tell you that he enjoyed how touchy you got when drunk.

You didn’t plan on telling him that you’d slightly sobered up on the drive home and just played the drunk bit up as an excuse.

And your keys were in your purse.

-

a/n: YAYYYY COLLEGE AU HARRY!!!

[callsigns-haze]

Request

Could you do one with Tylerxfemale reader where it’s her birthday and she thinks Tyler forgot but secretly he is planning a special night for her. You can do it with or without tornados causing chaos.

Happy Birthday

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler surprises Y/N with a secret birthday celebration after she thinks he forgot, turning her day into an unforgettable memory filled with love and joy.

Warning: Contains emotional moments and romantic surprises.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom as Y/N slowly woke up. She stretched lazily, her mind still groggy from sleep. It took a moment for her to remember what day it was—her birthday. A smile spread across her face as she imagined how the day would go. Tyler had always been good at making her feel special, and she couldn’t wait to see what he had planned.

But as the minutes ticked by, the smile began to fade. Tyler wasn’t in bed beside her. The usual smell of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast wasn’t wafting through the air. The apartment was eerily quiet. Y/N sat up, frowning. Maybe he was just running late?

She slipped out of bed, wrapping herself in a cozy robe, and padded out to the kitchen. It was empty, and the counter was bare. No pancakes, no birthday card, nothing. A small pang of disappointment tugged at her heart. Had Tyler really forgotten her birthday?

Just as the thought crossed her mind, her phone buzzed on the counter. She picked it up, hoping for a text from Tyler, but it was just a reminder for an appointment later in the week. Sighing, she set the phone back down and tried to shake off the feeling of unease. Tyler was probably just busy. He’d remember—he had to.

Y/N decided to make herself some breakfast, trying to keep her spirits up. She couldn’t let a little forgetfulness ruin her day. But as the morning turned into afternoon, there was still no word from Tyler. He hadn’t even sent a text. The disappointment grew stronger, making it harder to enjoy her day.

By mid-afternoon, Y/N was curled up on the couch, watching TV but not really paying attention. She was lost in thought, trying to understand why Tyler, who was usually so thoughtful, would forget something as important as her birthday.

As she was contemplating whether to reach out to him or not, the front door creaked open. Y/N turned her head, seeing Tyler walk in with a casual smile, as if it were any other day.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “How’s your day going?”

Y/N tried to hide her disappointment but couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. “It’s fine. Just… another day.”

Tyler looked at her with a slight frown. “You okay? You seem a little down.”

She bit her lip, debating whether to say something. After a moment, she decided to just ask. “Did you… forget what today is?”

Tyler’s expression remained neutral, but there was a hint of confusion in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Y/N’s heart sank. “It’s my birthday, Tyler.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Oh, God, Y/N… I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up with work that I—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to make you feel forgotten.”

Y/N nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s okay, I just thought—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Tyler pulled her into a tight hug, pressing his lips against her hair. “I’m so sorry, babe. Let me make it up to you.”

She hugged him back, feeling a bit better in his arms, but the sadness still lingered. “It’s fine, really. I just wanted to spend the day with you.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. “And we will. How about we go out for dinner? Anywhere you want, my treat.”

Y/N forced a smile and nodded. “That sounds nice.”

Tyler smiled back, but there was something in his eyes, a flicker of something Y/N couldn’t quite place. Before she could dwell on it, he kissed her softly, then stood up. “Why don’t you go get ready? I’ll make a reservation at your favorite place.”

Y/N agreed, heading to the bedroom to change. As she picked out a dress, she tried to shake off the lingering disappointment. Tyler was trying to make up for it, and that’s what mattered.

A couple of hours later, Y/N and Tyler arrived at the restaurant. It was a cozy, intimate place that they often went to for special occasions. The hostess greeted them warmly and led them to a table near the back, away from the noise of the main dining area.

Tyler was being extra attentive, pulling out her chair for her and making sure she was comfortable. He even ordered her favorite wine, trying to make up for the morning. But despite his efforts, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The day had just started on the wrong foot, and it was hard to get back into the celebratory mood.

As they waited for their food, Tyler kept the conversation light, asking about her day and sharing stories from work. But there was still that flicker of something in his eyes, something that made Y/N feel like he was holding back.

Just as she was about to ask him what was going on, the waiter arrived with their meals. Y/N’s plate was placed in front of her, but instead of the usual entrée she expected, there was a small envelope sitting on the edge of the plate.

She frowned in confusion and looked up at Tyler, who was watching her with a knowing smile. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the envelope.

“Open it,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before carefully opening the envelope. Inside was a small, handwritten note that simply said, Turn around.

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at Tyler, who nodded toward the door behind her. Slowly, she turned in her chair and gasped.

Standing in the doorway was a small group of her closest friends and family, all holding balloons, flowers, and gifts. They were smiling brightly, and behind them, a banner hung with the words Happy Birthday, Y/N!

Tears filled her eyes as she turned back to Tyler, who was now grinning from ear to ear. “You… you planned this?”

He stood up and walked around the table to her, pulling her into his arms. “Of course I did. I would never forget your birthday, babe. I wanted to surprise you.”

Y/N laughed through her tears, hugging him tightly. “You sneaky, sneaky man. I really thought you forgot.”

Tyler pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I wanted to make sure you had a birthday to remember. And I wanted to do it right.”

The rest of the evening was a blur of laughter, hugs, and heartfelt wishes. Y/N’s friends and family filled the room with love, making her feel special in a way she hadn’t expected. Tyler was by her side the entire time, his earlier act of forgetfulness completely forgiven.

As the night wound down and the restaurant began to empty, Tyler took Y/N’s hand and led her outside to a quiet corner of the patio. The stars were shining brightly above, and the cool night air was refreshing after the warmth of the celebration.

Tyler turned to her, a serious expression on his face. “There’s one more thing,” he said softly.

Y/N looked up at him in surprise. “Tyler, you’ve already done so much…”

He shook his head, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “This is for you,” he said, holding it out to her.

Her breath caught in her throat as she took the box, her hands trembling slightly. She opened it slowly, revealing a delicate necklace with a pendant shaped like a small heart. Inside the heart was a tiny, sparkling diamond.

“Tyler,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

He gently took the necklace from the box and fastened it around her neck. “I wanted to give you something to remind you of how much I love you, every day.”

Y/N touched the pendant, her heart swelling with love for the man standing in front of her. “I love you so much, Tyler. Thank you for making this the best birthday ever.”

He smiled, pulling her into a slow, tender kiss. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” he murmured against her lips.

As they stood there under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N knew that this was a day she would never forget. Tyler had given her not just a birthday to remember, but a love that would last a lifetime.

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

@katiemcrae

[majesty-madness]

On My Mind - Levi Ackerman x reader (nsfw)

Summary: She didn’t know why, but the only thing she could think of was how good he made her feel. 

Word Count: 4400+

Warnings: smut, 18+, MINORS DNI, female reader, missionary, rough sex, being bent over a desk, begging, overstimulation, fingering, handjob, crying, multiple orgasms, creampies, cursing, dirty talk, sweet sweet aftercare, several 'I love yous' thrown in for good measure

a/n: I have no idea where this even came from and also I didn't expect it to be so freaking long, but whatever. Not proofread. 

Main Masterlist

Commissions are open!

All day. All fucking day her thoughts have been on nothing but him. 

Y/N didn’t know what came over her today, but from the moment she woke up all the way to now, nearing midnight, Y/N could think of nothing except the idea of Levi pounding her into next week. 

She didn’t know if it was because despite his short height, he possessed maddening strength or the intensity behind his eyes no matter what he was speaking about, or maybe the way he’d carefully touch her hand whenever he passed by her, maybe it was a collective of all those things. 

Whatever it was, it caused her hormones to sky rocket and the only thing on her mind was the sensation of Levi splitting her open. 

Like a good girl, she waited until their shift was over, late into the night when everyone was well into dreamland. As soon as the night arrived, Y/N rushed to Levi’s office. She attempted to keep her steps collected and quiet, but the vivid memory of how Levi stretched her out she began to speed walk down the corridor. 

Her heart thundered in her chest, she felt herself become flustered before she even reached Levi’s office and the moment she did the heat rushed to her core. 

However, she didn’t want to reveal her intentions just yet so she took a quick breath to stabilize her rapid heartbeat before knocking. 

A muffled ‘come in’ sounded out and she did exactly that. 

The second her eyes came into contact with Levi’s figure, she sucked in an aroused gasp. Y/N had no idea why she was reacting this way as normally she was rather tame but the mere sight of him was causing her body to go into overdrive.

Levi hadn’t bothered to glance up yet as he finished writing on some random document to which Y/N took the opportunity to lock the door behind her. It was only after Y/N took a couple of steps towards his desk that he finally looked up. 

His expression went from the usual pensive face to a much softer one, causing the heat to now burn in her gut. And if she looked hard enough, there were the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips. 

“Hi.” Was all he said.

Y/N flashed him a smile, trying desperately not to squirm in her spot. “Hi.” 

Levi looked back down to the documents in his hand, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth as he did. 

The sound caused Y/N to suddenly become worried, and the scourging heat that wracked her body was quickly waning. 

“Are you okay, love?” Y/N asked, a clear tone of concern. It was only then that she realized that Levi could be under an enormous amount of stress, and sex might be the last thing on his mind. So despite her desire to jump his bones, if he truly didn’t feel well, she was not going to force herself on him. 

She would be able to put her lust aside for his well being. 

However, he nodded. “I’m fine, there’s just so many documents to look over though at least they're not an urgent priority.” 

Y/N breathed out relieved by his answer and Levi sharply noticed. “What’s that sigh for?” 

She waved her hand at him, lightly brushing off the question. “Oh nothing, I’m glad that you’re alright.” 

Levi shook his head then moved his eyes to look back down to the paper in front of him. There were a few moments of silence as Y/N contemplated how she should go about this. Perhaps she could play with him a little. 

Carefully, Y/N made her way over to his desk, placing her hands on top of the wooden surface with a kind of seductive elegance she didn’t know she had. It was a subtle move, however Levi knew that this wasn't her usual behavior as his eyes flicked up to meet her’s. 

“Levi, baby, can I tell you something?” 

He didn’t say anything but instead nodded, urging her to speak. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Levi raised a brow inquisitively at the undertone of that statement. “Is that so?”

Y/N nodded, briefly biting her lip then letting it go. “I missed you so much today too.” 

He leaned back in his chair, gently placing his pen down onto the table while his eyes took in her figure. “We see each other every day.”

“Oh I know, but I still miss you.” Y/N answered seemingly timid as though she were embarrassed to say it out loud but the chuckle she let out said otherwise. 

She pushed herself off the desk, leaving one hand to lightly trace the edge. “I miss your voice, your dark eyes, the slight smile whenever we see each other…” It was then that Levi noted her slowly walking around the side of the desk to meet him behind it. 

“I miss the way you hold me in the mornings, the way you nudge my leg when we eat together in the mess hall, the way you kiss me when you think no ones around…”

Now she was only a few inches away from him, hand still resting on top of the desk near the pen that Levi has previously been using. 

“I miss the way you make me feel, how gently you touch me when you patch me up after getting hurt, how you go out of your way to help me when it’s that time of the month, even how you reassure me…” 

Then she leaned forward, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other laid against his shoulder. She watched his eyes widen a bit curiously with his mouth opening a little. “But more importantly…”

Instead of going straight for his lips, she ignored them and hovered her lips near his ear; voice hushed and laced with desire. 

“I miss the way I feel when you’re inside me.” 

His face changed completely, morphing into stunned arousal, his mouth gaping open at her choice of words. But it didn’t stop there.

“God, the way you stretch me out makes me fucking shake. It’s so addicting.” Y/N kissed the part of his jaw that meets his ear, feeling Levi’s entire body jump from the intimate contact as well as the hand that now rested on her waist.

“You always know how to find those parts of me that I Just. Can’t. Reach.” She punctuated each word with kiss after kiss to his jaw, savoring in the slightest hitch in his breath. The hand resting on her waist began to tighten up all while twisting the fabric of her uniform in between his fingers. 

The hand that had rested on his shoulder, traced downward, firmly pressing against the rippling muscles under his shirt, going down and down until hovering over his most sensitive area. Y/N groped the bulge beneath his pants, savoring the hiss of breath leaving his mouth. 

“Does that feel good?” Y/N teased, giving him another squeeze. He shut his eyes briefly as the pleasure rushed through him but soon opened them again to glare at Y/N. 

She could tell already that he was going to make her eat those words later but for now, she would enjoy this in full. Keeping her hand pressed against his growing erection, she moved her head to kiss along the other side of Levi’s jaw until she met his chin. Y/N pulled herself back just enough, lips barely grazing together, their hot breath mingling as she fiddled with his belt buckle. 

It made the familiar light clinking sound as Y/N pulled the tale of the buckle from the metal loop, busying herself with the button. As soon as it came undone, Y/N finally pressed her lips heatedly into his. 

It was hot, near feverish as their mouths moved in tandem. When one would pull away the tiniest bit, they were swiftly chased by the other in a desperate attempt to stay connected. As Levi took the opportunity to bring her into his lap to straddle him, Y/N slipped her hand under the hem of his underwear, feeling the burning skin of his length. 

Levi ripped himself away from her sinful lips to lean back into his chair, both hands caressing the thick flesh of Y/N’s behind while she tugged him out of his uniform pants. The cold air hitting the scourging hot skin caused him to let out a light gasp before Y/N began to carefully stroke him.

“Y/N…”

His soft moans made Y/N unwittingly whimper in return, turned on by the simple fact that she was pleasuring him and he had hardly touched her yet.

“Oh Levi, you sound so pretty like this.” She continued her ministrations, hand wrapping around him tightly. 

Levi couldn’t help but to close his eyes as he let himself succumb to Y/N’s touch, thighs clenching with every stroke and puffs of heavy air leaving his lungs. For a moment, Levi thought he could get lost in the pleasure entirely that was until he felt the warmth of Y/N palm caress his cheek.

“Levi, sweetheart, look at me.” Y/N whispered, voice soft and smooth like honey. 

He did as she asked, begrudgingly opening his steel gray eyes to peer up at her. While he had thoughts of getting back at her for her teasing, when he did finally look at her, he admired the shining gleam in her own eyes and the slight biting of her lips. 

Although she had teased him, taking control over him and his body, it was obvious how much this was affecting her too. 

“Unbutton your shirt for me.” 

His eyes narrowed, a sort of pride bubbling up inside him to not let her have her way, however, that feeling quickly disappeared when Y/N dragged her thumb over his leaking tip causing his body to jolt with ecstasy. 

“Please?” 

Levi made a light tsk sound before reaching up with shaky fingers to carefully remove his cravat and undo the button up shirt. On several of the buttons, Levi had to find the strength to steady himself as Y/N never stopped moving her hand, constantly pumping his hardening length. The precum slicking up his skin, making wet noises between the two of them leaving him to imagine the sound of finally pushing inside her. 

Upon reaching the last button, Y/N took the opportunity to push the fabric aside to admire his muscular torso. She got a feel of them earlier, but now she could touch them in full. And that’s exactly what Y/N did. 

She gently dragged her fingers across his collarbone, then down his firm chest, and down to his abs again, taking her time in tracing every line of his body. Then Y/N leaned forward, beginning to suck the skin of his collar and briefly his chest. 

He suddenly let out a desperate whimper, signaling that with the contact of Y/N’s lips on his skin and still playing with him, he was reaching his limit. Y/N pumped faster, to match the pace of his hips jutting slightly upward to quicken his oncoming climax. 

With only a couple of more pumps of Y/N’s hand, Levi’s orgasm crashed over him, the sound of a whine diverting into a growl as white ropes of his release splattered onto his bare abs. 

Y/N stopped all movement, allowing Levi to simply bask in the afterglow and catch his breath. 

“I love the sounds you make when you cum, Levi. So pretty.” Y/N praised, leaning to capture his lips once more, then pulled away to place delicate kisses against his reddened cheeks. 

Levi stared off into nothingness, mind grappling to regain his composure, chest heaving up and down to supply his lungs with air.

His gaze drifted back to Y/N instead of the plain wood of the wall behind her, taking in her flushed expression, blown out pupils, and eyes swimming with unadulterated love. No woman had ever looked at him the way she did, like he’d hung the stars in the sky, like he was her whole world. Perhaps he was, because if he was sure of anything she had definitely become his. 

However, as sweet as the expression on her face was, Levi didn’t forget that she teased him earlier and though it hadn’t been too bad, he really wanted to get back at her for that. 

Without warning, he grasped a handful of her hair at the base of her skull, not enough to hurt but enough to force her mere millimeters from his mouth.

“Now you unbutton your shirt.” He demanded, watching her bite her bottom lip. 

She did as she was told, and quickly began to unbutton her own shirt like he’d done moments before. At the same time, Levi got to work on her belt unlacing from the buckle with precision and promptly dipped his fingers past her underwear. The second he did, he came into contact with her most intimate place, feeling the wetness of her arousal. 

“Levi..” She mewled, hand reaching up to grip his forearm. 

Levi circled her clit a few times with his thumb, copying her movements from earlier by kissing at her exposed collar before pushing two fingers inside her. Y/N gasped at the sudden intrusion but tried to thrust her hips into his hand for more friction at the same time he began to curl them against her sweet spot. 

“My, my, you really did miss me. I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already grinding into me.” Levi cooed, leaning into Y/n’s ear causing her whole body to quiver. 

“Please Levi, I want-” 

He kissed her neck, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip once more, attempting to formulate some coherent words to tell him exactly what she was thinking. “I want you to- mhm! M-make me cum.” 

As soon as the words danced off her tongue, Levi felt her walls tighten around his fingers the longer he pushed his fingers in and out, curling them at the same time. “Say it one more time.”

Y/N moaned, gripping his arm harder as he stroked her faster. “I want you to make me cum!”

“Good girl.” He smirked, immediately picking up the pace. While continuing his motions, he dipped his head down to capture one of Y/N’s nipples into his mouth and sucked lavishly  at the delicate bud. 

“Oh Levi..” Y/N whimpered, feeling the tension of her orgasm pulling tighter and tighter, right on the cusp of release; the sensation of Levi’s fingers thrusting into her wet hole and the smoothness of his tongue lapping at her nipples almost too much. 

For a split second she wondered if it was humanly possible to feel that way, a state of near complete euphoria. 

She didn’t get to wander about it much longer when Levi gave a particularly forceful thrust of his fingers against her spot causing her to quickly fall over the edge. “Oh fuck, Levi!”

Her walls tightened and gushed around his thick digits, her hips instinctually grinding down into his palm.

He didn’t remove his mouth from her chest, opting to suck bruises into her flesh, his groans of mutual pleasure vibrating into her clavicle as she came down from her natural high. Though unlike Y/N, Levi didn’t allow time for her to catch her breath, instead he picked Y/N up off his lap, forcing her to stand on her weak legs before whipping her around to bend her over his desk; pushing aside the countless papers that littered it. 

Y/N’s arms were pinned beneath her body, legs spread around as Levi reached around to unbutton her pants and pull them down over her ass. He basked in the sight of her glistening entrance, watching her essence drip down her thighs and soaking her underwear. 

“You made such a mess.” Levi growled, his sultry tone playing on the edge of danger with the promise of further bliss. 

Y/N tilted her head back as far as it could go to stare up at her lover, “Only because you make me feel so good.” 

He smirked devilishly at that. “Oh is that so?” 

She watched as he raised a hand to carefully pump himself a few times, taking a step ever closer, the heat of him seeping out onto her exposed entrance. After a few more pumps, he grasped his tip and agonizingly dragged it from her hole down to her clit, then back up, repeating this motion several times making Y/N squirm in her position. 

“You make it sound like I’m the one who started all this, when in fact you-” Levi pants, pushing just barely past her entrance making Y/N keen at the sensation. “are the one who teased me, and made me make a mess.” With that, he fully plunged himself inside her cunt in one swift motion, both gasping at the feeling of him sinking down into her. 

Levi gave Y/N a few seconds of adjustment but quickly began a brutal pace, the sound of skin on skin reverberating off the walls of the small office while their moans harmonized in sync with the other. 

He grabbed a hold of Y/N’s hips, pulling her into him as he snapped his own forward to meet in a forceful collision of intimacy. On one particular thrust, Y/N felt his tip prod at her cervix and she cried out.

Upon her wordless plea, Levi repeated his previous motion knowing exactly where she wanted it and proving that he hit that spot again when she gave another loud whine. So he kept going, pushing harder and faster until he could feel her already beginning to tighten around him, sucking him back in with every movement. 

And before she could say anything, she felt the hotness of euphoria erupt from her gut and spread through her limbs, setting every nerve blissfully on fire. Fuck, she was seeing stars, to the point where as the pleasure rose within her, the glistening of tears blurred her vision. 

Levi pressed himself fully into her back side, taking extra care to still his movements as he could also sense the rapid approach of his own orgasm. He was close, but he wanted Y/N facing him, looking him in the eyes as they both reached their end. As much as he wanted to give in, as much his body burned, he fought to hold it back. 

He took great pains to pull out slowly because any more friction than that would definitely make him explode right then and there especially as Y/N’s insides throb around his aching member. 

Once freed, Levi much more tenderly than before picked Y/N from the desk and turned her around to face him, his hands resting around her waist. His eyes flicked up to her’s, noticing the tears within them. He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to her cheek, feeling the warmth of her face seep into his lips. 

“Are you okay?” He quietly asked. 

Y/N nodded, “Yes, my love. I’m okay.” 

Levi wordlessly kissed her a few more times then let his hands drift up to pull her uniform jacket from her shoulders, letting it fall haphazardly to the floor. Y/N’s hands reached up to do the same, pushing his jacket from him to let it lay beside her own. Levi’s hand kneaded the skin of her ass once more, fully capturing her lips then moved his hands under her thighs and lifted her off her feet. 

Y/N cupped his face while Levi placed her back on top of the desk, slowly guiding her to lay down, their lips forced apart once her back lay flat. He chased after her by placing a kiss to her stomach, leading a trail down to her hip bone, loving the way her legs jerked as he did so and traveled even further downward. His hands lifted up to grasp ahold of her pants and underwear, pulling them off methodically and leaving her legs bare before him; the surface of flesh illuminated by the soft, orange, candlelight. 

He settled himself between her legs, grabbing them to wrap them around his waist allowing little to no space as Levi finally sunk back inside her aching hole. 

“Shit!” Levi hissed, the warmth of her inner walls overwhelming him in all the best ways. If he was honest with himself, he could’ve cum right then. 

“Oh god, you feel so good.” Y/N moaned out once he was fully sheathed inside her. “Please, move…”

Even though the beginnings of his release were approaching quickly, Levi was determined to make her cum first. Without any more delay, he gave a few slow thrusts, pulling all the way out then slamming back in. Each move, causing Y/N’s entire being to shake as she wailed in tantalizing fervor. 

He repeated the motion several more times, soon switching to more eager thrusts. Ones that sank deeper with every drive of his hips. 

“This is what I waited for all d-day, you filling me up completely.” Y/N professed, eyes rolling back as Levi’s cock assaulted her insides. 

“All day huh?” Levi huffed breathlessly, eyes locking onto the point where they were joined together. “You really were needy for me today. Just couldn’t wait for me to fuck you, fill you with my cum?”

Y/N nodded weakly, too dazed in the ridges of his length massaging the walls of her cunt. 

The sparks of previous orgasm reignited, prickling at his nerve endings, and rapidly spreading an addictive heat over his whole being. “Damn it…” 

Levi brought his hand between the two of them to press his finger onto her clit, beginning to rub it in a circular pattern. She convulsed under him, whines bordering on sobs scratching away at her throat, and he felt her clench tightly around him which caused his hips to stutter in their movements.

“Levi! I’m so close!” 

“I know, me too. Fuck!” 

Y/N lifted her legs up, hooking them on top of each other to trap him against her. “Please, Levi, cum inside me.”

He growled, the sound coming from deep within while he ravenously continued rubbing at her clit; thrusts hungry and impatient to reach the edge and finally, Y/N tightened unbearably around him, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan. 

Levi bucked into her a few more times before he inevitably reached that threshold, his cum spilling out in white ropes and filling her to the brim. 

The hot sensation of his essence soaking her insides made her mewl in delight, a barely noticeable smile working its way to her lips. “I love you, Levi.” 

He looked up at her face, seeing her tired eyes and satisfied smile. The sight made his heart flutter. “I love you too, Y/N.”

They took a moment to catch their breath, the sounds of their panting intertwining in the air while the sound of the crickets became apparent once their nightly activity came to a cease.

“Let’s get to bed, it’s late.” Y/N suggested while bringing her hand up to softly caress his forearm. 

He nodded. “Right, good idea.” 

With that, Levi pulled out, both making a low groan at the loss of warmth, but soon Levi brought Y/N up and picked her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom behind another door just a few feet from his desk. Once they were in the bedroom, Levi grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the mess he made between Y/N’s legs and then proceeded to wipe himself off. 

He reminded himself to wash it as soon as he got up in the morning. 

“Can I wear one of your shirts tonight?” Y/N sweetly asked, already removing what little of her uniform that had remained on.

“Like you wear anything else when we go to sleep.” Levi pointedly stated but handed her one of his shirts anyway. 

She giggled then slipped the shirt over her head, hugging the collar toward her nose to smell his scent had lingered on the fabric. She hummed happily, pulling back the blanket of the bed and shimmed comfortably under it. 

Once Levi blew out the lantern nearby, and dressed down, leaving himself in nothing but his underwear, he joined Y/N under the blanket, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her into his chest. The moonlight shining a bit through the curtains of the room provided just enough light to be able to see her eyes staring adoringly up at him. 

“I love you.” She said suddenly. 

He scoffed, though dipped his head down to kiss her forehead. “You already said that.”

She snuggled closer into him, her arms wrapping around him as well. “I’m saying it again. I love you.”

This time he actually laughed. “I love you too, you know that.”

“I know.” She tucked her head to lay on his chest, savoring the feeling of having him so close. 

“Now go to sleep, we need to get up early.” Levi half-heartedly demanded, sensing his own exhaustion setting in. He glance over to see that Y/N reaching the cusp of sleep, her breathing starting to steady out and her body relaxing under his touch. 

With one final kiss to her hair, Levi too let himself drift off.

[doumadono]

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! villain!Hawks, f!Reader, non-con, taken captive, elements of necrophilia, murder, blood, bondage, forced orgasm, unprotected and rough p in v, Hawks is an ass here, minors absolutely do not interact - a kitten dies if a minor reads this! Synopsis: Hawks has some "fun" with you after catching you spying for the Commission A/N: this story was written for @lewed and it's a contribution for the Secret Santa event hosted by a wonderful @ectologia

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Pain. As you slowly opened your eyes, it was the first sensation that greeted you — burning, irresistible pain spreading throughout your body.

The surroundings were dark, and you found yourself uncertain of whether you were still alive or perhaps already dead. Attempting to move, you realized the cold sensation around your wrists indicated the presence of some form of handcuffs.

"Marlene!" You whimpered quietly. "Marlene!"

There was no response, only a lingering, eerie silence.

You tried to move, but you couldn't — your legs felt numb, and you were tethered to some metallic structure. Your entire body ached; every attempt to shift, every shallow breath, was accompanied by pain.

Suddenly, a metallic lock clicked open with a key, and a stream of light flooded the room for a moment before disappearing as a tall, dark silhouette stepped in, closing the door. A few seconds later, a dim light illuminated part of the room as two old lamps hanging on either side of the door flickered to life.

You caught sight of him, and your blood turned icy cold. 

Thick combat boots, dark pants paired with a fitted black t-shirt adorned with golden patterns, and a pair of massive red wings. 

You shook your head, still reluctant to believe your own eyes. "Where's my friend?" you inquired anxiously.

"She's alive," came the calm response from the man with red wings.

A glimmer of hope sparked in your eyes. "Can I see her?"

There was a measured pause before the answer, "If you cooperate."

Your dry, blink-filled gaze met his. His emaciated face betrayed no hint of the intentions behind those words.

Hawks observed as you settled into the discomfort, bound wrists and ankles causing a persistent ache. The worry emanated from you, a palpable scent of pungent sweat, akin to a cornered prey navigating the uncertain terrain.

Hawks fixed his gaze on you for an extended moment, a silent observer in the dimly illuminated room cast by the faint light of aged lamps near the sturdy metal door. 

Slowly, he withdrew to the room's shadows, disappearing momentarily. Amongst a collection of cartoon boxes, a triumphant grin crossed his face as he discovered his sought-after item – a hefty hammer. Returning to your vicinity, he playfully toyed with the ominous tool in his grasp.

"Please, let me go. I won't breathe a word to anyone," you pleaded, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure.

His grin widened, feathers rustling slightly. "Oh, I wish I could, little one. But we've stumbled upon a problem. You and your best friend have gotten a bit too close to the truth about me and my colleagues from the League. Weren't you warned about the dangers of working for the Commission?”

“Please, I swear I won't tell anyone…”

Takami approached you with a frown, his golden eyes bearing a weight of seriousness and intrusion. With a rough hand, he tightly pulled back your hair. "I've made it clear before – cooperation is the only ticket out of the mess you've landed yourself in.” He set the hammer down.

"Please," you implored, devoid of weapons or the freedom of your limbs. Contemplating the distance, a fleeting thought of a potential headbutt crossed your mind. Standing could be an advantage. However, all these options dissipated as a tear traced down your cheek. His hand, not occupied with your hair, coiled around your neck, constricting your airflow. A soft sound escaped you, but as his grip weakened, you hastily gulped in air.

"Good girl. Breathe while you still can," he remarked, his hand tenderly patting back your hair, while your eyes held a bitter scorn.

"Please, take me to my friend. What have you done with her?" you pleaded.

"Oh, she's safe. For now," Hawks declared, rising to his full height. 

Your eyes scrutinized the young man, assessing every detail. There was a darkness in his aura, a stark contrast to the times when Hawks, the former Pro Hero Number Two, was known for helping people. Something had transpired between him and the Commission, and the Hawks people once adored had transformed into a ruthless villain, now one of the most perilous figures in Japan.

Hawks firmly gripped you under the armpits, drawing you in close. Thick ropes of chain encumbered your feet, challenging your balance. Your wrists and ass clung to the pole you were tethered to, seeking stability as the shackles jingled against the unforgiving metal pillar. 

His presence pressed down on you, and you cowered beneath its weight. A hand delicately traced your jaw, toying with your dry and rough lips under his thumb. “When I tell you what I want, you’ll do exactly as I say. You wouldn't want to witness the way darkness emanates from me when I command it, girl. Mind your tone and follow my instructions. Once I'm content with you, I'll allow you to see your friend," the former hero warned.

Your whimper lingered as his thumb persisted, applying pressure to the edge of your lip. It delved in, moistening against your tongue as it pressed against the intrusion.

“Suck,” he commanded. 

You vehemently shook your head in defiance, resisting against him. The notion of biting his thumb crossed your mind, perhaps even snapping it off. You strained to lean your head back, attempting to evade his grasp.

“Don’t try anything. If you do, I hurt her,” Hawks warned with an amused grin glued to his lips.

Your eyelids descended, halting an approaching flood of tears. Sealing your mouth around his digit, you sucked as per his request. His thumb pressed in deeper, and you complied.

"Good girl, yes. That'll do quite well. Now, back on your knees," he directed.

You obeyed, using your bound hands to steady yourself as you half-fell.

Hawks nonchalantly undid his belt, followed by his button and zipper. Darkened briefs emerged where the trousers opened in a V, and his hand slid beneath the band. “Now, open your pretty mouth for me, babybird.”

You followed his command, extending your tongue forward, a queasy sensation building within you.

"Excellent," he remarked, his hand delving beneath the thin fabric of his briefs, gradually revealing his long, veiny dick, slightly curved upward.

"Please, don't… What more do you want? We can erase all the intel we gathered!” you begged pathetically.

"Shut up, whore," he commanded, stroking his growing member. "I don't want anything but this from you. It might be the only thing you're good for, I think. Lick," he instructed, rubbing the reddened, swollen tip of his dick against your tongue. "Wet your tongue again for me, babybird."

You swallowed and opened your mouth wide once more. 

He positioned himself against you, and your lips instinctively sucked. A salty bitterness lingered on your palate as your curious tongue explored the head of his cock.

Hawks hissed as the tip of your tongue flicked the sensitive part of his frenulum underneath. "That's right," he affirmed, pushing in deeper, causing your cheeks to bulge. Takami ran his slim fingers through your hair, keeping you steady on his cock. Pulling out just enough to watch saliva stretch from your lips to his shaft, he thrust back in, repeating the motion until you emitted a desperate noise, gagging yourself on his dick.

"Good girl. That's enough of that for now. You just saved your girlfriend from a beating. She'll appreciate that when she wakes up from her last one." Takami grinned as he rubbed the tip of his erection across your swollen lips, wiping away a fallen tear from your cheek before moving behind you. He worked at the shackles around your wrists.

You felt them loosen and drop, but his hand replaced them, gripping you firmly. He pulled you against the pole, the cold metal burning your neck. As he lifted the white shirt from your torso, you pleaded with the faceless hands to stop. The room vanished momentarily as the shirt passed over your head, landing on the floor beside you. Then, your hands were locked together once more, this time in front of you.

You shivered as the cold air filling the room grazed your exposed, bruised skin.

The restraints around your ankles were skillfully loosened with a series of subtle clicks. Your uniform pants were swiftly discarded, followed by your cotton panties, leaving you bare except for the metal-clad bindings around your wrists as you resumed your kneeling position.

A palpable shift in the room's atmosphere ensued.

Hawks, charged with desire, was visibly electrified. His engorged and reddened member pushed back into your mouth, eliciting a moan from him. "You look stunning with your mouth full of my cock," he murmured, reaching down to play with a nipple between his fingers. "And you're damn good at it." His fingers tenderly smoothed your tousled hair as he guided himself deeper into your throat. "Do you ever do this for your boyfriend, if you have one? No? But I bet you fantasize about it. Yes?" He chuckled, reveling in his revelation after your tongue flexed under the weight of his dick. "I knew it! Your boyfriend is a good boy, huh? Just the missionary routine, not letting you explore, even though deep down, you crave it. It's okay, you can imagine I'm him. I'm sure you already are, judging by how wet you're getting. Just picture me as him, but on a wild ride, eager to try something new.”

Slimy fluids trickled from your pussy, tracing a path down your thigh, the disloyal testament of desire slicking your inner folds.

His fingers continued their dance, skillfully teasing your erect nipples, each touch met with an eager response. A sharp squeeze on the left elicited a cry from you, and as he knelt before you, he drew the aching nub into his mouth. "What makes you climax, babybird? Tell me. I want it to be as pleasurable for you as possible!"

A whimper escaped your lips as his calloused finger glided through your folds, everything feeling unsettlingly taboo. A part of you yearned to resist, to break free and escape. Yet, a more primal instinct responded to his calculated touches, a primal need for closeness with a male that seemed to overpower your rational mind, corrupting it.

A creeping finger eased into your pussy. "You're so wet and tight, just look at that. Didn't want to give me a blowjob, but it's obvious it got you excited," he remarked. A second finger joined the first, curving against the walls of your vagina. The pressure felt both pleasurable and unsettling.

"Do you enjoy that, babybird?" he inquired.

You squirmed away, finding yourself seated on the floor.

He pressed your arms over your head, taking in the sight of your breasts. The supple flesh swayed like ripples on water. With one hand gripping his throbbing length and the other on your hips, he guided the two to meet. "You're making the right choice, obeying me, Y/N. I'll bring you to your friend soon. Just one more thing I need you to do for me." The head of his penis entered you gradually, a delectable stretch spreading through you.

The mingling sensations of pleasure and pain raced through you like wildfire. The boundary between anger and passion blurred, akin to smoke and cloud intertwining. "N-no," you cried, attempting to push him away by pressing your feet against his thighs.

He huffed as he thrust fully inside you, easily bottoming out. His wings fluttered as arousal overcame him. "Fuck, you're so tight, holy shit. Almost feels like you're a virgin."

An involuntary moan escaped your lips, and you cursed yourself for that.

"I just need you to do one more thing for me, babybird. I want you to cum for me. I know you can do it, little bitch."

Your eyes squeezed shut, tears threatening to spill. His heated and girthy member glided in and out of your drenched pussy. The unforgiving concrete pressed against your back, each forceful thrust leaving bruises as he relentlessly drove you into the ground.

Hawks restrained your arms by holding your wrists above your head, his dominant hand skillfully working your clit. “Fuck, fuck, yes, little dove, I love how your pussy is clenching around me. You're such a good babybird.”

You futilely cursed at him, weakened by the onslaught of physical pleasure. His erection completely filled your pussy, allowing him to penetrate deeply from this angle. Despite the way he mercilessly circled your clit with his thumb, you resisted the urge to wrap your bloodied feet around him and ride his dick back. The struggle not to climax intensified as he sensed your unraveling, cruel laughter escaping him.

"Will your boyfriend ever fuck you like this? No, he'd probably be too gentle," Takami panted between words, thrusting into you with an unrelenting pace. "A girl like you craves it rough, needs it like this. A girl as scarred and desperate as you wants to feel something. A good girl always wants to be damaged. If you want to see your friends and family again, you'll cum on my cock.”

Frustration escaped your lips in a scream. Your ass throbbed, and your core pulsated with proximity to climax. The images of your friend and boyfriend flashed in your mind, intensifying your inner turmoil. In the dimly lit room, through tear-filled eyes, Hawks' face remained elusive. Your juices squelched, trickling down your sensitive skin to your asshole.

"You're holding back. Cum, and I'll take you to your girlfriend. Cum for me." Takami kissed your breasts, fingers maintaining a tantalizing rhythm on your clit, a friction you secretly enjoyed.

Your hips surged upward uncontrollably, and you were cursing the duplicity of your own desires and pussy.

"I told you to cum for me." He struck your face, the impact strong enough to briefly black out your senses.

Impatient, Hawks groaned, his throbbing cock signaling an impending climax. He dispatched a few feathers from his wings, their sharp edges slicing your skin on the shoulders and calves in an attempt to rouse you.

A loud hiss escaped your lips as the sharp cuts decorated your skin, tears streaming down your cheeks. "N-no, I don't... want to! Please! Please, don't cum in! I'm begging you! Please!’ you tried to move away but he slapped your face again.

A warmth surged through you, an irreversible tide that swept away any chance of retreat. Suppressing your moans, you felt your core tighten around him, forcing him through a final series of thrusts before he climaxed within your rhythmically clenching pussy. Your orgasm, though unexpected and unwelcome, was all-encompassing. Legs shaking, abdomen twitching, you writhed beneath his touch, attempting to muffle the sounds of pleasure, aware that he observed the explosion of pleasure within you. The sneer of his release transformed into a cruel smile.

"I knew you wouldn't be entirely worthless to me," he remarked, tucking his member away once again.

"That's so sad."

"W-what's sad?" you asked, still catching your breath. "You promised I'd be able to see my friend. Where is she?"

Hawks, unbothered by your voice and a wet stain on his pants from your combined releases after he retracted his cock, sent one of his feathers to illuminate the room while switching the lights on. 

It was then that you saw her — your friend, lifeless, naked and hanging upside down on the opposite wall, her ankles bound to the ceiling, her torso gruesomely cut from throat to vagina.

The echoes of your own screams reverberated in your ears, but the voice seemed alien, almost primal — like that of a wild animal.

Hawks approached the suspended lifeless body and callously slapped the vagina of your deceased friend. "She wasn't as cooperative as you. Unfortunately, we had to eliminate her."

Tears streamed down your face as you choked on your own sobs, struggling against the metal restraints binding your wrists. "Why! Oh God! Oh God! Marlene!"

Hawks explained, "She didn't want to listen," just as the metal door swung open. “Such a waste. I wasn't aware that preserving one's virginity was still a concern in today's girls' world. But I must say she was fucking delicious. Not as much as you, of course.”

Entering the room was none other than Dabi, casually leaning against the wall, observing the macabre scene. "Came to check what's taking you so long, birdbrain.”

"I was reuniting our lovely Y/N with her friend. She was a good, obedient girl to me, so I decided to reward her."

Dabi furrowed his brow, rolling his eyes a little. "Memory cards, birdbrain," he reminded.

Hawks casually retraced his steps to your discarded clothes, rummaging through the pockets of your uniform pants. He retrieved two SD cards and handed them to Dabi.

The scarred villain ventured further into the room, reaching for a Nikon camera on one of the shelves. "Can't wait to get off to this little tape tonight," he chuckled, shooting you a cold glance.

A lump formed in your throat. They had recorded everything — every violation inflicted by Hawks, every involuntary response of your body. Dread enveloped you.

“Please…” you whispered.

Hawks gave Dabi a look, and the other villain nodded.

"Shush, shush, shush," Dabi cooed, crouching next to you, sizing your face with his hand, turning it more to inspect it. "Don't cry. This little tape will be sent to your dad in Kyoto, a small keepsake of you. He'll be able to see your last moments. How his precious, little daughter, working so proudly in the Hero Public Safety Commission was taking villain's cock like a cheap whore. I'm sure he'll be proud."

"What... Please, please!" Your voice rose in desperation. "Please! I won't tell anyone. I can spy for you, I can do whatever you want. Please!"

Dabi observed you with amusement. "Isn't she the sweetest?" He cast a sidelong glance at Hawks before leaning forward to lick the tears off your reddened cheeks.

You winced, trying to crawl away.

Dabi grinned and rose, exiting the room. "Just don't leave a mess here. I'm not keen on cleaning up after you, birdie."

As the metal door closed, you whined like a wounded animal. Instinctively, you knew you weren't going to make it out of this situation alive.

Hawks approached you, ruffling your hair. "You were a good girl. I want you to know that."

"Please," you tried once again. "Please, free me."

He smiled at you. "I'm freeing you."

A swooshing sound filled the air, and the next moment, you were suffocating with your own blood, unable to draw a breath. The blood quickly poured down your chest through the cut throat, and soon your head hung lifelessly to the side.

Hawks lingered for a moment, watching your lifeless body. He couldn't resist slipping his hands down and between your legs, rubbing your still warm and slick folds, pushing his finger in one last time. "Such a waste," he murmured, licking his fingers clean before getting up. He used the hammer he had earlier picked up to crush the phone he retrieved from the pocket of your uniform trousers. Following that, he doused your body, as well as your friend's, and the floor in gasoline before igniting it with his lighter.

Whistling happily under his breath, he left the room and ascended the metal stairs, leaving everything that had transpired behind, not bothering to turn around even once.

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us VIII

Summary:

As things start to improve between Y.N and Aemond, Alys reveals her true intentions, and as Y.N turns to Aegon for support the brothers come to blows.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Swearing, Idiocy, Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Violence, Fighting,

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 7770

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Aemond woke with a start, his arm stretching across the bed to where Y.N. should have been, but the space beside him was cold and empty.

A sinking feeling gripped him as he sat up, glancing around the room in confusion. Throwing on his discarded clothes from the night before, he hurried down the hallway to Jack’s room. The sight of the empty cot made his heart race, panic flooding his chest.

“Y.N.?” he called out, but there was no answer.

Aemond tried to remain calm, his fingers fumbling for his phone. He rang her, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried again and again, the same result. Frustration and fear mounted with each passing second.

He paced the living room, running through his contacts, ringing Helaena, Daeron, and even Aegon, asking if they had seen her or heard from her. The answer was always the same: no.

His chest tightened. Had she really left him? After last night? Aemond’s gaze darted around the penthouse, and he realized that her things were still there.

The suitcase she had packed in a fury the night before was still there, laying where it had fallen on the floor during their vigorous sex session.

Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. If she hadn’t left, where was she?

Just as he contemplated going out to search for her, the sound of the door opening made him freeze. Y.N. stepped inside, pushing Jack’s pram.

Aemond rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her without a second thought.

"Where were you?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion as he unbuckled Jack from the pram and lifted him into his arms, holding him close. "I was worried."

Y.N. gave him a small, tired smile. "I went to the doctor," she said, her tone matter of fact. "Since we didn’t take any precautions last night, I needed to get the morning-after pill."

Aemond’s breath hitched. "Oh," he said softly, watching as Y.N. reached into her bag and pulled out a small box.

She read the instructions on the back, popped out the pill, and swallowed it with a glass of water.

"I also decided that I’m going to start taking the contraceptive pill," she added. "Just to be safe."

Aemond nodded slowly, his gaze following her movements. He put Jack down on his play mat, the soft jingling of toys filling the room. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“About last night-” he started, his voice hesitant. “-I don’t know what came over me. If I was too rough—if I hurt you—”

Y.N. shook her head, cutting him off. "Don’t apologize," she said softly. “I liked it.”

Her words stirred something inside him, but Aemond knew there was more to say, more to confront. He couldn’t keep avoiding it. Turning to face her fully, he took a deep breath.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice steady but serious. "About us."

Y.N. finished her water and leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest. She nodded, her expression unreadable. Aemond took a step closer.

“For a start,” he continued, “-There is no us. But don’t you think there should be?”

Y.N. hesitated for a moment, chewing her lip as she considered his words. "I guess things weren’t working out the way they were."

“No, they weren’t,” Aemond agreed. “But we already have a child. We live together, we have sex and we love each other Why can’t we explore a relationship? Properly.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with scepticism. "What about Alys?"

Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I swear, there’s nothing there with her. Not anymore. I know I shouldn’t have let her in, but I feel like I owe her-for the way things ended."

Y.N. narrowed her eyes, clearly still not convinced. "I don’t trust her, Aemond. Not one bit."

“I know you don’t like her,” he replied. “But I promise, it’s just business. There’s nothing else between us.”

Y.N. looked at him, her gaze searching his face for the truth. “Is this really what you want?” she asked quietly. “To be with me?”

Aemond stepped forward, his eye never leaving hers. “It is. I’ve been a fool to wait this long to ask you.”

She chuckled lightly, some of the tension easing between them. "Why did you wait?" she teased, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Aemond smirked, rolling his eye. "Fear, mostly. Fear that you didn’t feel the same way. Fear of ruining what we had."

Y.N. let out a soft laugh. “If you really mean it-I want you to ask me properly.”

Aemond’s smirk widened, and he crossed his arms. “So, regularly sticking you with my cock isn’t asking properly?”

She laughed again, shaking her head. "No, it’s not the same thing."

He let out a deep breath, taking her hand in his. “Y.N.,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Y.N. smiled, a bright, genuine smile that lit up her whole face. “Yes,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “I will be your girlfriend.”

Aemond grinned, his heart swelling with joy as he leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then with more passion.

When they finally pulled apart, Y.N. excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Aemond standing there, his mind racing with relief and happiness.

Finally, she was his.

Aemond sat with Aegon and Daeron at their usual table in the club, the neon lights casting a soft glow over them.

The atmosphere was buzzing, and as they ordered their drinks, Daeron’s eyes zeroed in on the mark on Aemond's neck. He sniggered, pointing at it with a raised eyebrow.

"Who's responsible for that?" Daeron asked, barely hiding his smirk.

Aegon snorted, taking a sip of his beer. "Alys?"

Aemond glared at him. "Absolutely not. It was my girlfriend."

Aegon’s laugh echoed over the thumping music. “So, you finally grew some balls and asked Y.N. out?”

Aemond scowled at him but didn’t deny it, which only made Aegon laugh harder.

Daeron shook his head in amusement. “About time. By the way, did you ever find out where she went the other day? You were freaking out."

Aemond sighed, swirling his whiskey. "She went to the doctor. Got the morning-after pill."

Aegon rolled his eyes dramatically. "Seriously, do you have some kind of aversion to condoms or what?"

"My mind was on other things at the time,” Aemond muttered defensively, taking a long drink. “But she’s on the pill now.”

Daeron chuckled. “At least she’s taking responsibility.”

Aemond hummed in agreement before dropping a bombshell. “Alys stopped by the penthouse.”

Aegon nearly choked on his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You what? You let her in? Are you an idiot?”

Daeron looked equally stunned. “What were you thinking?”

“I-feel like I owe her,” Aemond admitted, though his voice lacked conviction.

“For what?” Aegon demanded.

Aemond leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly “-For cheating on her”

Aegon scoffed “The two of you were living completely separate lives before you dipped your wick in Y.N”

“Maybe I still feel like I owe her something for the way things ended”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Please. Alys was in the relationship for herself, and you know it.”

Aemond shook his head, staring into his glass. “Maybe toward the end, but at the beginning-”

Daeron cut him off. “Beginning, middle, or end—it’s irrelevant now. You don’t owe Alys a damn thing.”

Aegon raised his beer. “Here, here. Come on, brother. Drink up—we’re celebrating tonight!”

Aemond arched an eyebrow. “Celebrating what?”

Aegon grinned wide. “You finally getting the girl.”

Later that night, after far too many drinks, Aemond stumbled down the hallway to his penthouse.

His fingers fumbled with the key, and in his drunken state, he cursed under his breath.

"Who's moving this damned lock?" he groaned, leaning against the door for support.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Aemond went flying into the penthouse, landing ungracefully on the floor.

He blinked up at Y.N., who stood above him, arms crossed but an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Hello,” he slurred, sprawled on the floor.

Y.N. knelt down, a mix of amusement and concern on her face. “Did you have a good night?”

Aemond clumsily tried to get to his knees, swaying slightly. “I had a few beers,” he mumbled.

Y.N. quirked an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve had more than a few,” she remarked, closing the door behind him and locking it.

Aemond groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I’m bit tired.”

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Y.N. said, helping him to his feet. He stumbled slightly, and she all but dragged him towards the bedroom.

On the way, Aemond suddenly stopped, looking serious. “I have a girlfriend,” he said, as if making a grand declaration.

Y.N. stifled a laugh. “I’m sure your girlfriend will understand.”

Aemond looked up at her, his drunken expression deadly serious. “My girlfriend is my girlfriend, and she had a baby-my baby-”

“How nice,” Y.N. laughed, guiding him to the edge of the bed. She sat him down and began pulling off his shoes and socks.

As she worked, Aemond’s eye fluttered, his head lolling. “You smell nice,” he murmured, slurring slightly.

Y.N. laughed again, shaking her head as she took off his coat and removed his eyepatch. She was careful, knowing how vulnerable he felt without it.

Aemond squinted up at her. “Are you trying to get me naked?” he asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

Y.N. rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to get you comfortable.”

Aemond’s hands found their way to her waist, his forehead resting against her stomach as he clung to her. “I love you,” he mumbled, his voice softer now. “I do. So much. Please don’t leave me.”

Her heart clenched at his words. “I’m not leaving. Now, come on—lie down and go to sleep.”

With her gentle urging, Aemond finally lay back against the pillows, his body relaxing almost instantly. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out cold, his breathing deep and steady.

Y.N. stood there for a moment, watching him sleep, her hand brushing through his hair. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile.

Aemond woke up the next morning face down, groaning at the pounding in his skull.

His mouth felt like sandpaper, and the faint light filtering through the curtains only worsened his throbbing headache.

He groaned and muttered to himself, "Never drinking again."

Slowly, he pushed himself up, feeling like every bone in his body ached from his night of excess. Shakily, he stood and stumbled toward the bathroom, catching a glimpse of his dishevelled reflection.

His hair was a mess, and the faint smell of stale alcohol clung to his skin. “Gods, I reek,” he muttered, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower.

The hot water didn’t do much to ease his hangover, but at least it helped him feel a little more human. After drying off, he threw on a clean shirt and sweatpants before heading to the kitchen, still rubbing his temples.

When he entered the kitchen, the smell of sizzling bacon hit him, making his stomach growl loudly. Y.N. stood at the stove, flipping over sausages and eggs, while a platter of crispy bacon sat on the counter.

“What's all this?” Aemond asked, his voice hoarse from last night.

Y.N. looked over her shoulder with a small smile. “Bacon, eggs, sausages—best hangover cure there is.”

Aemond could practically taste the food already, his stomach growling in anticipation. “You're a lifesaver.”

Before sitting down, he wandered into the living room to check on Jack. His son was on his playmat, gurgling happily and kicking his legs in the air.

Aemond’s heart softened instantly as he crouched down, brushing his hand over Jack’s soft hair. "Good morning, little man," he murmured.

Y.N.’s voice called from the kitchen. “Aemond, come sit down. Food’s ready.”

Reluctantly leaving Jack, Aemond joined her at the table and sat down. The plate in front of him was piled with food—golden eggs, perfectly crisp bacon, sausages cooked to perfection.

He didn’t waste time, diving in hungrily. Every bite seemed to ease the ache in his head a little more.

After finishing his breakfast, Y.N. handed him a glass of water and some painkillers. "Thought you might need these," she said with a teasing smile.

Aemond sighed in relief, taking the painkillers gratefully. “You’re a saint,” he muttered, washing them down.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of laziness. Aemond spent most of it sprawled out on the sofa, watching Jack play nearby, occasionally dozing off.

At one point, he even found himself napping with Jack snuggled up against him on the couch, the baby’s soft breaths helping him relax despite his headache.

But his peaceful nap was interrupted by a loud knock on the door, startling him awake. Jack stirred but didn’t cry, and Aemond gently laid him back on the playmat before sitting up groggily.

Y.N. was already answering the door when two men entered, their arms laden with large boxes, making quite a racket as they brought them inside.

Y.N. signed for the delivery, thanking them before they left. She turned toward the boxes with a curious look, wiping her hands on a towel as she approached them.

"What’s all this?" Aemond asked, still feeling groggy as he watched her tear open the packaging.

“It’s a delivery from the museum,” Y.N. explained, pulling away the bubble wrap to reveal two statues inside, both looking worse for wear. The stone was chipped in several places, and the detail on their surfaces was faded and worn down.

Aemond stepped closer, peering at the statues. “Think you can fix them?”

Y.N. smiled confidently, her fingers running over the smooth, cold surface of one of the statues. “Absolutely. They’ve seen better days, but I’ve handled worse. I’ll have them looking good as new soon.”

Aemond nodded, impressed as always with her skill. He watched her work for a moment, feeling a surge of pride in her abilities. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

Y.N. looked up from the statue, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said quietly before turning back to her workbench.

For the next couple of months, Y.N. worked diligently on the two statues that had been delivered from the museum.

She had printed pictures of what the statues originally looked like and pinned them to the walls of her workspace for reference.

Each day was a careful, deliberate process—she spent hours gently cleaning the weathered stone, ensuring that every inch was properly prepped before moving on to repairs.

When the cleaning was complete, Y.N. mixed plaster to the perfect consistency, using it to patch up the chips and cracks that marred the statues.

She took her time, delicately applying the mixture before using a fine-grain sandpaper to smooth out any unevenness. Every touch required precision, and the smallest mistake could ruin weeks of progress.

After the repairs were done, she moved on to the final stages: painting and applying a special wax that not only enhanced the statues' details but also provided an extra layer of protection.

It was a painstakingly slow process, but Y.N. found it rewarding. Still, the work had taken longer than anticipated due to balancing her time between the restoration and caring for Jack.

Once the statues were fully restored, they were carefully boxed up in layers of protective material and sent back to the museum.

As much as Y.N. loved her work, she felt a sense of relief when the project was completed. She had poured so much energy into the restoration that, despite her passion, it left her feeling drained.

But knowing that she had done justice to the pieces, especially with Jack in tow, made the reward even sweeter.

One afternoon, feeling a little freer after finishing the statues, Y.N. decided to surprise Aemond at work.

She stopped by a local café to grab them some dinner and pushed Jack in his pram as she made her way to Targaryen Inc.

As she entered the sleek lobby, she was startled to hear someone call her name. She turned to see Jacaerys waving at her from across the room.

They hadn’t seen each other since the heated argument in the café months ago, and Y.N. hesitated for a moment before waving back.

Jace quickly crossed the room to meet her. "Hey," he said, a bit of uncertainty in his voice. "How have you been?"

Y.N. smiled, adjusting her grip on Jack's pram. "I've been fine. You?"

Jace glanced down at Jack, his expression softening. "Wow, he really looks like Aemond."

Y.N. smiled fondly at her son. "Yeah, he does."

After a beat, Jace rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Look, I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you in the café. I was angry, and I lashed out. But I shouldn’t have said those things."

Y.N. took a deep breath, remembering how hurtful that encounter had been.

But seeing Jace now, visibly regretful, she nodded. "It’s okay. I probably should have told you from the start that Aemond was Jack’s father. I understand why you were upset."

Jace gave her a sad smile. "How are things with my uncle? My mother said you two are dating now."

Y.N. felt a warmth spread through her at the thought of Aemond. "They’re good. I know we did things a little backward—baby first, then the relationship—but we’re happy."

Jace nodded, but his smile was tinged with sadness. "I'm glad to hear that," he said quietly.

For a few moments, they stood there in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

Then Jace cleared his throat and glanced at the time. "I should get going. I told my mother I'd only be five minutes."

Y.N. smiled. "Of course. It was nice seeing you, Jace."

He hesitated for a second, then quickly stepped forward and hugged her.

It was brief but sincere. "Take care, Y.N.," he said as he pulled away, rushing off before either of them could dwell on the moment.

Y.N. watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of relief and nostalgia. She took a deep breath, then turned back toward the lift.

Pressing the button, she smiled at Jack, ready to surprise Aemond with their impromptu visit.

Y.N. stepped out of the lift, pushing Jack's pram ahead of her, feeling a surge of excitement at the idea of surprising Aemond.

The office was quiet, and she noticed Aemond’s assistant wasn’t at her desk.

Smiling down at Jack, who gave her a gummy grin in response, she whispered, “Let’s surprise Daddy, shall we?”

She quietly pushed open the door to Aemond’s office, but the sight that greeted her made her stop in her tracks.

Alys was sitting close to Aemond on the leather sofa.

Aemond shot up from his seat the moment he saw Y.N. walk in, looking slightly startled.

"Y.N.," he said, with a forced smile, quickly crossing the room to kiss her head. "This is a nice surprise."

Y.N. fought the wave of anger surging through her but forced a smile. "I was taking a walk with Jack," she said, her voice tight, "and thought I’d bring you something for dinner since you've been working hard lately."

Aemond’s face softened. "That was thoughtful of you," he said, reaching into the pram to lift Jack out. He held his son close, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek. “Daddy's missed you.”

Y.N. watched, her stomach churning as Alys rose gracefully from the sofa and walked over to stand beside Aemond.

"He’s gotten bigger-" Alys said with a sweet smile, looking at Jack. "Can I hold him?"

"No," Y.N. snapped, before she could stop herself. She quickly reached for Jack, putting him back into the pram and turning him away from Alys.

There was a tension in the air that no one could ignore as Alys stepped back, her smirk barely hidden.

Y.N. turned to Aemond, her voice sharp. "What is she doing here?"

Aemond leaned in close, whispering hurriedly, "I didn’t know she was coming. She just turned up."

Y.N. narrowed her eyes, her anger boiling over. "Then you should’ve thrown her old arse out."

Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m just helping her get established with her business. That’s all."

Y.N. scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The only business she’s after is in your pants."

"You're being ridiculous," Aemond muttered, trying to keep his voice low.

Y.N. caught a glimpse of Alys standing by the desk, the smug smirk on her face as if she were relishing the tension in the room.

That was it. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Without a second thought, Y.N. grabbed the bag of food she had brought for Aemond and threw it at him.

The containers hit his chest and fell to the floor, spilling sandwiches and chips across the carpet.

“Here,” she spat, her voice seething with anger. “I hope you both fucking choke”

Ignoring Aemond’s frantic calls of her name, she turned on her heel, pushing Jack’s pram out of the office as fast as she could, her heart pounding with fury.

Aemond stood in the middle of his office, wiping the food off his shirt with quick, agitated movements.

His eye flicked to the mess on the floor, the sandwiches and chips scattered across the carpet. Frustration gnawed at him, but before he could act on it, Alys approached, placing a hand gently on his arm.

“Aemond—” she began, her tone soft, but he immediately snatched his arm away, his patience frayed.

"Don't," he snapped, his voice cold and sharp. He moved quickly to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, already making his way toward the door.

Alys’s voice followed him, laced with confusion—or perhaps something more manipulative. "Where are you going?"

"After Y.N.," Aemond responded, his tone clipped. "I need to talk to her. I need to explain."

"Explain what?" Alys asked, her voice turning smug. "We were only talking."

Aemond halted, turning to face her fully, his eye narrowing with irritation.

"What are you even doing here, Alys? The clients I recommended to you are more than capable of keeping you busy. You don’t need my help anymore."

Alys smirked, a dangerous glint in her eye. "You’re right. I don’t need your help," she admitted, stepping closer. "I never really did"

Aemond’s frustration shifted into suspicion. His voice turned demanding. "What do you want, Alys?"

She gave him a slow, calculated smile. "I want you."

Aemond froze, his gaze hardening. "What?"

"I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you," Alys said, her voice sultry, as she moved closer to him, her hands grazing his chest.

“I’m not interested” snapped Aemond.

"I remember when you used to be interested."

Aemond immediately removed her hands from him. "That was then," he said firmly, stepping back. "This is now."

Alys wasn’t deterred. She leaned in, trying to kiss him, but Aemond pushed her away, more forcefully this time.

"I just want it to be the way it was," she said, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.

"It will never be the way it was," Aemond said through clenched teeth, his temper rising. He couldn’t believe she had the nerve to push this after everything. "It’s over, Alys."

Still, Alys persisted. "We could be good together again, you know that. You felt it once—"

"Enough!" Aemond shouted, his voice booming with frustration. "Get it through your head—I don’t fucking want you. What we had is over." His words cut like a knife, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Alys’s face twisted in anger. "So, you're choosing Y.N over me?"

"Yes," Aemond said, his voice steady and final. "I choose her. I will always choose her. Because I love her"

There was no hesitation in his answer, and that seemed to anger Alys further. She glared at him, her face contorting with bitter jealousy.

"Fine," she said, grabbing her coat with sharp, angry movements. "But that’s too bad. We could’ve had something special."

Aemond scoffed, crossing his arms. "I already have something special with Y.N. and Jack."

Alys moved toward the door, her expression icy. Just before she left, she turned to him, her voice low and venomous. "Not anymore, you don’t."

With that, she slammed the door behind her, leaving Aemond standing alone in his office, her final words lingering like a dark cloud.

As Y.N rushed out of Targaryen Inc, her vision blurred by tears, she barely noticed the world around her. Each breath felt heavy with the weight of betrayal.

She had wanted to surprise Aemond with something thoughtful, but instead, she’d walked into a scene that made her stomach turn. Alys, sitting close to him—too close. Her heart ached, and all she wanted was to escape.

By the time she reached the penthouse, Y.N was shaking. She hastily left a note and packed a bag for herself and Jack, not entirely sure where she was going, but desperate to leave.

With Jack bundled up and strapped into his pram, she left the penthouse, wandering the city streets. She hopped onto a bus without thinking, letting the rhythmic rocking carry her away from her thoughts, until she stood before a familiar black door.

The sound of music leaked through the walls, and she hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell.

The music paused, and moments later, the door swung open to reveal Aegon, shirtless and slightly dishevelled, clearly caught off guard.

“Y.N.,” he said, surprised to see her standing there.

Behind him, a girl lounged lazily on the sofa, eyeing Y.N. with vague curiosity.

Embarrassed and feeling out of place, Y.N. tearfully apologized, backing away. "I’m sorry for disturbing you. I should go—"

Aegon quickly stepped forward, gently catching her arm. "Hey, wait—what’s wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he quickly pulled on a T-shirt.

"It doesn’t matter," Y.N. muttered, tears threatening to spill again.

"It does matter," Aegon insisted, his voice firm yet kind. He turned to the girl on the sofa, gesturing toward the door. “You need to leave.”

The girl huffed, gathering her clothes and glaring at Y.N. as she passed by.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Y.N. broke down, the sobs she had been holding back finally spilling out.

Aegon didn’t hesitate—he pulled her into a comforting hug, hushing her softly as she cried into his chest.

“What happened?” he asked gently, rubbing her back as she tried to calm down.

Y.N. took a shaky breath, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I went to surprise Aemond at work-and Alys was there.” Her voice broke, and Aegon cursed under his breath.

“That fucking idiot,” Aegon muttered, holding her tighter. He didn’t press her for more details, just let her cry it out until the storm of emotions passed.

“Can Jack and I stay here tonight?” Y.N. asked after a moment, her voice soft and uncertain. “I don’t want to go back. But he’ll come looking for me-”

Aegon quickly nodded. “Of course, you can stay. Don’t worry about him. If he comes round here, I’ll tell him you’re not here. And when Daeron gets home from work, I’ll make sure he keeps his mouth shut, too.”

Y.N. managed a small, grateful smile through her tears. “Thank you-and I’m sorry, again. I feel like I’m imposing.”

Aegon shook his head, giving her a comforting smile. “Stop apologizing. You’re not the one in the wrong—Aemond is. What the hell is he thinking?”

Just then, Jack’s soft cries filled the room, and Aegon released Y.N. so she could tend to him. She reached into the pram, but Aegon quickly offered to take the baby. “Here, let me.”

Y.N. handed Jack over, and Aegon rocked him gently, his touch surprisingly tender. “My brother needs to open his eye and see that harpy for who she really is,” Aegon muttered, rolling his eyes.

Y.N. let out a small laugh, despite herself. “You’re not wrong there.”

Aegon raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I’m serious. I’ve never liked her, and you know if I don’t like a woman, that’s a red flag. I mean, I love the ladies.”

Y.N. laughed again, this time a little more genuinely. “I know. Especially the married ones.”

Aegon shrugged with a playful smirk. “Of course. But Alys-she’s different. In all honesty I never really liked looking directly at her.”

“She’s not Medusa” Y.N. said, shaking her head.

“She might as well be,” Aegon shot back with a mock shiver.

After a few more moments, Aegon smiled and said, “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll sort us something to eat.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

“I don’t,” Aegon admitted with a grin. “I’m ordering takeout. Will pizza be okay?”

Y.N. nodded, grateful to be here in this moment, with someone who had her back when she needed it most.

Y.N gently bathed Jack in Aegon’s bathroom, the warm water soothing her nerves as much as it did Jack’s.

He splashed playfully, his little hands reaching for her as she carefully washed him, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness in her chest.

After drying him off, she dressed him in his soft, blue pyjamas, his eyes beginning to droop as she cradled him in her arms. She fed him, rocking slowly, humming a quiet tune until his soft, rhythmic breathing told her he had drifted off to sleep.

She laid him in the middle of Aegon’s bed, arranging pillows around him carefully, making sure he was safe and comfortable.

The door remained slightly ajar, just enough for her to hear him in case he woke up. Stepping back into the living room, she felt a pang of guilt.

"I feel terrible for kicking you out of your own bed," Y.N. said, biting her lip.

Aegon waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry about it. I offered. Besides, I’m not exactly known for my chivalry—this is a rare moment for me, let’s not ruin it."

Y.N. chuckled weakly but appreciated the levity. She sank onto the couch, pulling out her phone.

Her breath hitched as she saw the screen flooded with notifications—30 missed calls from Aemond, and numerous text messages.

She scrolled through them, her heart twisting at the range of emotions. Messages declaring his undying love, apologizing profusely, followed by angry ones accusing her of taking Jack from him without any right.

The whirlwind of his emotions matched her own confusion.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?" Daeron asked, sitting down beside her.

Y.N. sighed, putting the phone down. "I don’t know. I really don’t. Part of me wants to talk to him, but after what happened today, I don’t even know where to start."

"You can stay here as long as you need," Daeron reassured her. "But-you know Aemond’s going to find out eventually that we’ve lied to him. And when he does, he won’t be happy."

Y.N. rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on her. "I’m sorry to drag you both into this. I just needed to get away, and I didn’t know where else to go."

Aegon scoffed, lounging on the other end of the couch. "Screw him. We’ve all tried telling him about that bitch, but noooo-Aemond thinks he knows better. Now look where we are."

Daeron, ever the peacemaker, leaned forward. "Not to defend Aemond too much, but maybe he thought he was helping Alys out of some twisted sense of guilt—like making up for cheating on her."

Aegon rolled his eyes, his frustration palpable. "The guy’s an idiot. He’s letting this mess get in the way of what really matters”

Y.N. suddenly feeling overwhelmed, stood up "I’m going to bed," she murmured, offering them both a tired smile. "Goodnight."

“Night-” said Aegon and Daeron in unison.

Y.N. walked down the hallway, her heart heavy. She peeked into the bedroom, watching Jack sleep peacefully, oblivious to the storm swirling around them.

As she lay down beside him, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold everything together for just a little while longer.

The next morning, Y.N. woke early, fed Jack, and packed their things. As she stood by the door, she turned to Aegon and Daeron, offering a grateful smile.

"Thank you, both of you, for letting us stay over. But I think it’s time we head back to the penthouse. I’m going to take Jack for a walk in the park first, clear my head before I see Aemond."

Aegon, still lounging lazily in his chair, got up and walked over to her, pulling her into a hug. "You’re always welcome here, you know that" he said, giving her a wink. "But if you ever come back, I won’t give up my bed again. We’ll just have to share."

Daeron rolled his eyes. "Ignore him and regardless of what happens, we’ll still be there for you and Jack”

Y.N. gave a soft laugh and nodded. "Thanks again, really." She checked the straps in Jack’s pram and then wheeled it towards the door. "Goodbye, and take care."

As she left, the door clicked shut behind her, leaving Aegon and Daeron in the apartment.

Not long after, Daeron furrowed his brow and turned to Aegon. "Oh no, she forgot one of Jack’s toys."

Aegon picked up the small plush from the table, examining it.

"What the hell is this thing?" he muttered, turning the soft rabbit-like toy over in his hands. The ears crinkled when he squeezed them, making an odd sound.

"I don’t know," Daeron shrugged. "Right, I’ve gotta head to work. You good?"

"Yeah, yeah," Aegon waved, still scrutinizing the toy as if it held the answers to life. "See you later."

Just as Daeron grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, it swung open again—this time revealing Aemond, standing in the doorway.

His eye narrowed when he saw Jack’s toy in Aegon’s hand.

Aegon tried to hide it behind his back, but it was too late.

"Where did you get that?" Aemond asked, his voice tight.

Aegon stuttered, "Well, you see—"

"Was Y.N. and Jack here?" Aemond cut him off, his tone dark.

Aegon sighed. "Yeah, they were, but they left a little while ago. She didn’t know where else to go."

Aemond's expression turned furious. "When I rang you last night and asked if you'd seen her, and you said no—was she here?"

Aegon swallowed, glancing at the floor. "Yes, she was here. She slept in my bed—"

That was all Aemond needed to hear. Without warning, he punched Aegon in the face.

Aegon stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor, clutching his nose as blood began to flow.

"Did you fuck her?" Aemond bellowed, his voice full of rage.

Aegon groaned, sitting up slowly, blood dripping between his fingers. "No! I stayed on the sofa, you fucking arsehole-"

Aemond began pacing around the apartment, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

Aegon stood up, wincing as he gingerly touched his nose. He grabbed a nearby towel, pressing it to his face.

"You have no right to be angry," Aegon spat. "You’re the one who’s been hanging around with your bitch of an ex."

Aemond stopped pacing, his face tightening. "I was just trying to make up for what I did. But it was a mistake—a massive one. Alys-she tried to kiss me."

Aegon’s expression hardened, and without a second thought, he punched Aemond in the mouth.

Aemond stumbled back, stunned, as blood began to trickle from his lip.

"You moron," Aegon growled. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Aemond wiped the blood from his mouth, still in shock from Aegon’s punch. "She tried to kiss me, and I pushed her away. I didn’t let it happen."

Aegon shook his head, disappointment clear on his face as he went to the freezer to grab some ice.

"You’re such an idiot. I’ve been telling you for years what she’s like"

Aemond stood there, blood staining his lips. "I know," he said quietly. "I know now that it was all a manipulation. She didn’t need my help with her business. She just—"

"—wanted to get back into your pants," Aegon finished for him. He shook his head, pressing the towel full of ice cubes against his bruised nose. "You only lost one eye, brother. How could you be so blind?"

Aemond’s shoulders slumped as he sat down heavily on the edge of the couch. "I’m an idiot ok" he admitted, voice hoarse. "I let her in when I should’ve known better."

"You’re damn right you’re an idiot," Aegon said with a bitter laugh. "You let that old bint back into your life when we all tried to warn you. And now, you’ve potentially lost the best thing that’s ever happened to you all because of your own stupidity."

Aemond closed his eye, running his hands through his hair again. He knew Aegon was right. And now, he didn’t know how to fix it.

As Aemond sat on the couch, staring down at the toy he had snatched from Aegon’s hand, a heavy silence settled between them.

Aegon, still pressing the towel full of ice to his swollen nose, finally broke the quiet.

"You know, I’m jealous of you," Aegon muttered, his voice low but steady.

Aemond frowned and looked up. "Jealous? Of me? Why?"

Aegon let out a tired chuckle. "Because of Y.N."

Aemond's expression darkened, and his jaw clenched. "What are you saying?"

Aegon raised his free hand, waving off his brother’s suspicions. "No-I’m not into her like that. It's the way she loves you, Aemond." He looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "The way she looks at you-it’s something else. I’d give anything for a woman to look at me the way she looks at you. There’s this—" He struggled to find the right words, "—devotion in her eyes. And she brings out the best in you, even if you’re too blind to see it."

Aemond’s face softened slightly, and he allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips. "Maybe if you stopped chasing unavailable women, you'd find someone like that."

Aegon huffed a laugh. "Yeah, maybe. I was actually trying to get with someone last night, if you must know. But then Y.N. came over and interrupted." He shrugged, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement.

"And you helped her instead," Aemond remarked, his tone shifting to something more serious.

"Of course I did," Aegon said, looking at his brother with a surprising sincerity. "I like her—no, not in that way. But I wanted to make sure both her and Jack were safe”.

Aemond sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you, Aegon."

Aegon nodded, leaning back against the counter. "You’re welcome. But I don’t care what you have to do. You better make it up to her. She’s good for you, Aemond. You two belong together. Don’t be the fool who throws it all away."

Aemond stood, taking a deep breath. "You’re right. I need to fix this." He paused, glancing at the door.

"Yeah," Aegon replied, standing straighter. "She mentioned she was taking Jack for a walk in the park and then heading back to the penthouse”.

Aemond started towards the door, but Aegon called out to him. "Hey, one more thing."

Aemond stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Aegon smirked, his usual playful self returning. "You should ask her to marry you."

Aemond froze for a moment, considering the weight of Aegon’s words.

Slowly, he nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe I will."

Aegon grinned, his smirk widening into a mischievous grin. "Because then she’d definitely shag me."

Aemond took a deep breath before he charged at his brother. Aegon dodged out of the way, laughing loudly as Aemond began chasing him around the table.

"You little—!" Aemond shouted, but despite his frustration, there was a smile creeping onto his face as Aegon kept laughing, the tension between the brothers momentarily broken by their banter.

"Too slow!" Aegon called out, still running, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

For just a moment, the heaviness that had hung over them lifted, and despite the mess Aemond needed to fix, he felt a flicker of hope. He wasn’t going to let Y.N. slip away—no matter what it took.

Aemond wandered through the quiet streets, his mind racing. He desperately wanted to see Y.N. and Jack, to hold them both close and promise he would never let his stupidity come between them again.

But he knew he had to give her time—to get back to the penthouse, to settle Jack, and most of all, to calm down. As much as he wanted to rush to her side, he knew that right now, patience was key.

She was the love of his life, and the thought that he might have jeopardized everything made his chest tighten.

How had he let it get this far? It was easy to blame Alys, to paint her as the villain in his mind, but deep down, Aemond knew the truth—it was his own fault.

His misguided sense of duty, his foolish belief that he could make up for his past mistakes by helping her, had led him down this path. He should have left the past buried.

As soon as Alys had reached out, he should have told her to get lost. Instead, he had let her manipulate him, and now Y.N. and Jack were suffering the consequences.

He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists as he walked. Alys’s motives were clear from the beginning, and he cursed himself for not seeing them.

But the damage had been done. Now, all he could do was hope—pray, even—that Y.N. would give him the chance to make things right.

He loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone, and the thought of losing her, of losing their life together, sent a sharp pain through his chest.

As he rounded a corner, his steps slowed when he came to a stop in front of a jewellery shop. His eye caught on the glittering rings displayed in the window, and for a moment, he allowed himself to close his eye and imagine.

He pictured Y.N. in a beautiful wedding dress, walking towards him with that radiant smile she always wore when she looked at him. His hand reaching for hers as they exchanged vows, their kiss sealing their promises as they became husband and wife.

But was that future even possible now? Or had he ruined it beyond repair?

Aemond let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his silver hair. He had thought about proposing to her before, but now-was it even right to consider it?

Would she still want a life with him after everything that had happened? After the hurt he had caused?

He wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing—he had to try. He couldn’t give up on them, not when he loved her with every fibre of his being.

Aemond stepped into the penthouse, his heart immediately dropping at the sight of a suitcase by the front door. Jack was fast asleep in his pram, his small chest rising and falling peacefully.

Aemond's gaze shifted from his son to Y.N., who sat on the sofa, nervously fiddling with her fingers, her face pale and her eyes distant.

His voice cracked as he asked, "Are you leaving me?"

Y.N. looked up at him, her expression torn. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I think it's for the best”.

The words pierced through him like a blade, and Aemond felt his knees weaken. In an instant, he was in front of her, kneeling on the floor with his head resting in her lap, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

 "Please don’t leave me," he choked out, his voice thick with desperation. "I’m so sorry, Y.N. I thought I owed it to Alys, after everything that happened, but I was wrong. I see that now. I made a terrible mistake, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, please don’t go."

Y.N. hesitated, her hands trembling as she slowly stroked his hair. But then, gently, she removed him from her lap and stood up, forcing a shaky breath as she wiped her eyes.

"I need to think, Aemond. I need to figure out what’s best for me and for Jack."

Aemond rose to his feet, his desperation mounting as he cupped her face in his hands, peppering soft, frantic kisses across her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. "I love you," he whispered, again and again between kisses. "I love you more than anything. Please, just—just stay. Let’s work this out."

Y.N. closed her eyes, letting her forehead rest against his for a moment as the pain of the situation overwhelmed her.

"I love you too, Aemond," she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. "But I need space. I need to think about what I really want”

Aemond’s breath hitched, but he nodded, knowing he couldn’t push her any further. He backed away slightly, his eye red and pained.

He turned to Jack, still peacefully sleeping in his pram, and pressed a tender kiss to his son’s forehead.

"Be good for your mummy," he whispered softly, brushing a finger over Jack’s tiny hand.

With that, Aemond walked to the door and held it open, his heart breaking with every passing second.

Y.N. pushed the pram through the door and glanced back at him one last time, her suitcase in hand, her eyes filled with sadness and uncertainty.

“Goodbye Aemond-”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Aemond collapsed against it, sliding down to the floor until he was sitting with his back against the wood.

His head fell into his hands as the weight of it all came crashing down. Silent sobs wracked his body.

He had lost them both—And it was his own fault.

TBC

[etherealily]

🄱🄻🄴🅂🅂🄴🄳​ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. 🍃.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Tiny glimpse into his mind because why not?

Desc. : "His hand, so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It's not like Nate even knew you.

You just so happened to be the secret to his success, and maybe, perhaps his new obsession.

No biggie.

I mean, whole of the first week of spring break, he didn't text you, you didn't text him, and it was all great and normal.

Pissed him off to no end, because how the hell did you recover so quickly from having a fucking gun in your throat? But, hey, whatever. Maybe you were just that goddamn weird.

The second - and last - week of spring break was when shit got intense.

Because he thought about you.

He realized he hadn't even fucking seen you around town the entirety of it, and that might have freaked him out, just a little.

He worried, you see? Yes, only about his games, and his college apps, but now, all of them had been tied to you, with a pretty little bow around them.

So obviously, now he worried about you.

So, obviously, he needed to find out just where the hell your lucky ass had gone.

He narrowed it down to two options. Both perfectly reasonable, of course.

One, you just had tons of work and stayed indoors.

Two, you had been kidnapped and murdered by the opposing teams because they'd found out about your miracle-working.

See? Perfectly reasonable.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It was a happy surprise to learn that you were basically closer to his house than you'd ever been before, after you'd taken up a job at the local supermarket.

Well, happy for him.

For you, it was more of a you-were-seriously-contemplating-suicide surprise.

"You listen to Elvis Presley?", he asked, dropping his purchase down on the counter. Your eyes never moved to it, and stayed on his.

That was one thing he noticed about you.

You were always observing, as if he were a rabid animal that would strike at any moment. As if he would reveal his sinister intentions to you within enough time for you to react.

"What?"

He nodded at the speakers on the wall around the establishment. "Those connected to your Spotify?"

You didn't want to answer unless you knew whether he was about to compliment or mock you.

"Sir, I think you should leave."

God fucking damn it. Why had he never thought about the fact that you wouldn't - (and couldn't)- call him a motherfucker at your workplace? His joy knew no bounds.

"That's so hot. Say it again."

You'd 100% expected that. It was clear on your face.

"There's other people behind you with more items to check out."

He swiveled his head around for a moment.

Old lady. Sometimes he wished he wasn't raised right.

He sighed, nodding. "I'm next up, though.", he warned sternly, pointing at you as he gestured for her to pass him by.

The old lady patted him on the shoulder and smiled, moving ahead with her purchase of an unholy amount of bread and cheese.

And what's worse?

She had coupons.

Way too many for Nate to stand smiling like a good boy behind her as she dug into her purse and fished out probably decades worth of them.

"Yes, dear, so just run all these."

"Uh, ma'am, I wish I could, but most of these are expired."

Thank god.

"Oh, well, you said most. Let's just sort through them and find the ones that aren't expired."

Would it be homicide to kill her? She didn't really have too long to live, anyway. He couldn't say he hadn't thought about it.

"Uh, okay, yeah, sure."

"This'll just take a minute, sweetie.", she whispered to Nate, pinching his cheek as if that would make time go by faster.

"How about I pay for you, ma'am? If that's alright?"

If he'd been allowed access to your mind, you'd never live it down, because you almost thanked him right then and there.

"Oh, there's no need for that, dear, I can-"

"No, please, I insist. It would be my pleasure."

"What a sweet boy."

Both her and Nate decided to ignore the derisive snort that came out of you as you swiped his card.

"Here you go, ma'am.", you smiled, placing the copious amounts of cheese into the bag, then stuffing the bread in, too. "Anything else?"

"Oh, no, that's it for me. God bless you, dear. Both of you."

Watching her walk out, he began to genuinely wonder if this absurd purchase was all part of some scheme some criminal had put up to steal without your knowledge.

"You hear that? We're blessed, you and me."

"Do you actually have anything to buy?"

"Of course I do. I'm not a creepy stalker.", he hissed, slamming his palm down in front of you. Slowly, he lifted it to reveal a stack of eleven condoms.

Oh, yeah, you were blessed with this fuckass' presence.

You sucked your teeth as your gaze traipsed from the condoms up to his eyes. One of them winked.

"Is that all?"

"Oh, come on, you're not even curious why I have them?"

"Probably for the dozens of bitches you're getting.", you scoffed, ringing it up. "$15.99."

"For eleven individual condoms?!"

You shrugged. "Inflation."

"Oh, they better inflate for the amount of money I'm spending."

He rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself as he pulled out the money from his wallet, instead of his card. "Fucking old lady with her bread and cheese."

"You maxed your card?"

"Yeah. Why do people buy so much shit they're barely ever going to use?"

"Like you with your condoms?"

Ah. Nate could've absolutely lost his shit laughing right there- you did care.

"I'm going to use it all. Trust me."

How many times was he going to use the phrase 'trust me' on you until he realized the meaning had eroded away into nothingness between you two? Probably a dozen more.

"Sure. Thanks for shopping with us. Have a great day."

He pouted, stuffing the packets into his pocket as he raised a brow. "You don't sound like you mean it."

"Nate-"

"And why are you even working here, anyway? Oh, shit, is it 'cause I cost you your internship with your perv boss?"

If he felt bad, the grin on his face wasn't really screaming guilt.

"No, fuckass, this is my friend's store, he just wanted someone to help him out for a couple hours."

"Whoa, wait, what happened to Sir? I liked that better."

That was a lie. He fucking loved it.

"Please, Nate. Stop."

"One condition."

There it was. It no longer seemed like he saw you as anything more than a boredom buster. Sudoku, or a crossword, basically. That was you to him.

"Answer one question, truthfully, and I'll leave this... otherwise empty store right after."

"I'm listening."

God, that's all he fucking wanted to hear, and it was oddly exciting. He could literally say anything, and you wouldn't block him out.

"What would you do if I told you that I have a body in my car right now?"

"What?"

"A body. A dead body. It's in my trunk. Right now. What would you say? What's your next move?"

It's like he expected you not to notice the fact that he was tracing shapes on your arm as he spoke.

"Cops."

At this point, even if he wasn't bluffing, you'd still have reacted so nonchalantly. Because it was all in all tiring to continue to play whatever twisted game he was playing.

"They're not an option. It's either silence or help me. Would you help me hide it?"

"Nate, did you kill someone?"

"No."

"Then why even ask?!"

"It's a hypothetical."

"No, probably not."

He tsked, looking away for a moment. "Wrong answer."

"Well, it's my answer."

He brought his fingers up to your face, and your slight flinch meant absolutely nothing to him. Imaginary hearts now plagued your skin. "Change it."

"My answer? No."

"Please."

"Nate, did you kill someone?", you asked once more, praying for an actual answer this time, be it in the negative or the positive.

He smirked.

"Thanks for the condoms.", he whispered, grinning as he gave your cheek a light pat - that was dangerously bordering on a slap.

Would your trunk be big enough to fit his body? You thought about it the rest of the day.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

His fingers rapped on his dashboard as he watched his phone, set down on speaker on the dashboard, too. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

"Hello?"

Yes. He'd never been this happy to hear someone's voice, and it kinda freaked him out. Okay, whatever. Not important.

"Y/N."

"Who is this?"

"The guy you broke all the rules with before spring break? Made out with on the bleachers?"

"You need to be more specific."

"You better be kidding."

"Of course I am." He had never felt more relieved to hear your stupid ass laugh. "What do you want? I'm not helping you hide a body."

He debated just asking you where you'd been all this time, why you hadn't shown up to a single party or hangout, but he decided he'd just outright ask the real question he needed answered.

"Which one's your window?"

A pause. "What?"

"The one with red or yellow curtains?"

"Nate."

"Red or yellow, babe?"

"Red." Good. You'd gotten so used to him that you didn't waste time pointing out the obvious by asking 'are you outside my house?!'.

"You sure it's not yellow?"

"That's my parents' room."

"Yellow looks more tempting.", he teased, as he shut the car door.

"I'm not messing around."

"Neither am I. Yellow it is."

"Nate!"

This was far too precious to him. You were actually worried. How cute.

The fact that he had to climb up wasn't really making him jump in joy, but he figured you'd enjoy that little touch of vintage chivalry.

Like fucking Rapunzel.

He tapped on your window once.

No answer. Don't fucking play around right now.

He knocked once more.

He was met with your extremely delightful glare as you slid your window up, watching him closely.

"Hey."

"Dude, you-"

"Shh, shh, shh. Let me in.", he mumbled, crouching to cram himself through, his hand still resting on the top of the pane.

"You're insane."

Immediately grabbing your face after he steadied himself, he hissed through gritted teeth, "Where the hell have you been?"

"What?"

"I didn't see you at all before today!"

"Yeah, we got a lot of work to do over spring break."

"This is why you don't take psychology, because you get stupid amounts of homework even during the holidays.", he muttered, as if he'd warned you about this eons ago.

"What do you want?"

"Party. You. Me. Now. Get dressed."

He almost punched you when you started laughing.

"You actually do have a sense of humour, Nate, good for you."

"I'm not kidding. Come on."

"No way in hell."

"You know what? No need to get dressed. You look great. Just come on. Live a little."

"You've already taken me to 'live a little' before, and I ended up shitfaced with a gun in my throat at school at 12:30 am."

Good. So you hadn't gotten over that. He didn't care if he was being sadistic - he was glad.

He sighed, flopping down onto your bed and ignoring the second glare to come from you that night. "This is so typically a teenage girl's bedroom."

He had no clue what he was saying, at this point. But he knew he was itching for a reaction, a reason for you to hit him again, so he could grab you and shut you up. He craved the conflict.

"Surprising, considering that's what I am."

"I mean, the band posters? Really?", he huffed, pointing around at your room as if he was giving you a tour of it.

"Have you even listened to Queen? Presley? Any of the oldies?"

The match was found. Time to light it.

"So the shitty music in the store was connected to your playlist.", he chuckled, shaking his head. "No wonder that old lady was so nice to you. She thought you were one of her Bingo buddies."

It was just a question of how long you could stand him sitting on your bed, disrespecting your music taste.

"If you're only here to invite me to a party, I'm sorry, I'm not coming."

"How would your family like me hanging out here?", he mused, tilting his head. You know, the one you'd probably love to bash into the pavement given a chance? That head.

You were so fucking hot when you were pissed, it was unbelievable to him. He could sense it, the anger.

The smell of your rage made him want to riot.

"You can't keep blackmailing me into doing what you want."

"Alright, fine."

Your uncomfortable frown made him snicker. "What's that look?"

"This is usually the part where you self-harm and tell me I'm being a bitch for not bending to your will."

"Tonight's different."

"Why?"

Because I'm going to unwrap every fucking secret of yours.

He shrugged, the corners of his lips curling downwards. "I don't want to."

"So, you'll leave?"

"I didn't say that.", he trailed off, watching you sit down on the chair across from your bed. "Let's just chill."

"Nate, when have you and I ever chilled?"

He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at you, before giving you a sly smirk. His fingers emerged from his pocket as he pulled out a packet of pre-rolleds. "Right now."

"You're kidding."

"C'mon. Don't be a pussy."

"They'll smell it."

He lolled his head over to the door. "No, they won't. You're two floors up." He shifted to one side, patting the space next to him. "Come on, Y/N, don't end your badass streak so quickly."

His eyes followed you as you sat down gingerly, rubbing your forehead like he was causing you a genuine migraine. That's funny, she hasn't even seen me high, yet, (and she won't).

"Why do I let you do this?"

"Million dollar question if I ever heard one.", he scoffed, fumbling around his person for a lighter. He found it, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it, causing his next catastrophic words to come out a mumble. "But I'm glad you do."

He continued to watch your eyes change from frustration to mild fascination, to hesitation all in one second, as he puffed out through his teeth. "Fuck.", he groaned, handing it to you.

"I don't know about this."

"You think they'd like me?", he mused, looking at the door, and then back at you. "I'm known to make a good impression with parents."

"The no-blackmail thing didn't last long.", you huffed, taking it from him. Nate almost made out with you right then and there, the way your lips wrapped around it as if they were made only for him.

"Didn't want to break tradition.", he snorted as you coughed and sputtered, handing it back to him quickly.

"Gross."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

The last thing he'd expected from that evening was actually staying. He'd thought he'd get you stoned, you'd pass out, and he'd leave.

But here you were.

Next to him.

Freaking him the hell out.

He looked down at his watch. 2 AM. Fuck.

"I gotta go."

"You've been saying that for the past three hours."

Shut up. "Eh, well, it's not like my parents are worried."

"Why not?"

"They know I can handle myself."

"Right, because I'm such a threat."

"God, no. They'd love you." He shook his head subtly, grinning as you nudged his face playfully with your foot from across the bed. "You should come over, sometime."

"I'm not coming over, Nate."

The weed made sure you didn't push him away when he gently grabbed your leg. "Why not?"

"Because we're not friends. There's no reason for me to meet your parents."

"I just think it's right that you get to judge my room, too.", he muttered, lips on your ankle like it was his life support. "You know, justice or whatever."

"It's probably all monocoloured, plain, boring crap."

"Only one way to find out.", he teased.

He despised the silence that followed. High-you wasn't exactly chatty, it seemed.

"Tell me something about you."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Anything."

"This is my first time smoking weed."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart."

"You didn't ask for a secret."

"Now I am. Tell me a secret."

"I hate football."

You were more resilient than he thought, seeing as you'd smoked three cigarettes already, and the most you'd given him was your sports preferences.

But he'd take what he got.

"Because of me?"

"No, just generally."

"But you came to games.", he countered.

"Because of Maddy."

"You guys are close?"

You nodded, stirring slightly as you looked out your window. "Mhm."

"So she told you." Shit.

You tilted your head, sitting up as he gripped your calf, moving closer and placing kisses on your knee, too. "About?"

Well, if you didn't already know, no need to tell you.

"To come to the games."

"Oh. Yeah."

Nice save, Jacobs.

"I guess now I owe you a secret, huh?"

"I guess you do."

"You're not gonna like it.", he murmured, lazily tracing even more shapes on your knee, while his other hand had trailed up to your arm. "But I love your lips."

He smiled when the corners of your eyes crinkled up and you burst into a fit of giggles. "What?"

"It's true. They're perfect."

"God, I love weed."

You would, seeing as you smoked more of it than he did. Enough to kind of make him feel slightly guilty.

"It's not just the weed saying this.", he continued, shaking his head. "I'd fight wars for those lips. For you."

He shouldn't have liked the fading of your laugh so much, the slight trepidation brewing on your face, either, but for some reason, he did. "Nate, I'm not... I don't wanna-"

"Be fought for? Why not?"

He took the silence as a cue to brush his finger against your cupid's bow. "You don't think you deserve it?"

He watched your lips move under his finger as you shook your head, side to side. "Well, I do. And, guess what?"

"What?"

"I got another question for you."

Your frown was your response.

"Why didn't you push me away when I kissed you that night on the bleachers?" He knew the answer. Of course he did.

"I was drunk."

"Yeah, see, you weren't that drunk.", he taunted. But no, you were. He'd given you basically one and a half bottles. Just like tonight, taking barely ten puffs while you took thrice as much. You just hadn't noticed.

"I don't know, then."

"I just think that if you didn't push me away, it can't have been the terrible experience you made it out to be, in the car."

"What do you want to hear, Nate?"

"That you want to do it again. 'Cause you do. Don't you?"

"I don't."

"Yes, you do. If you could see your own eyes right now, you'd agree."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

He waited for a reaction, a scoff, an eye roll, anything, but you just looked back at him, and then down at the hand he was holding. Oh, it was the weed.

So he took matters into his own hands. No. He took you into his own hands, tracing the gap between your lips with his tongue before he pushed it in.

Your lips were war-worthy, just like before. But this time, something was different. This time, you kissed back.

There we go.

His hands ran over your back as though he were splaying a huge deck of cards across a table, and he came to the grave realization that maybe, just maybe, he was no longer doing this just for a reaction.

"Come here.", he murmured, making up for his lack of oxygen by trying to steal yours as he pulled you onto him. How Shane Crestin hadn't killed himself over the fact that he'd fumbled this bag, he'd never know. Loser.

His hands slipped under your shirt. Wrong move, seeing as you pulled away. "No."

Wasn't weed supposed to last longer?

"What?"

"I'm not... no."

"You seemed into it, like a moment ago. Face it : you want this. No amount of bullshit self-respect or whatever you wanna call it, is going to change that.", he responded, coolly, as he took a drag from the blunt, his lips immediately feeling the lack of yours.

"You're just trying to get back at Maddy."

God, he wished that were true. Would make much more sense.

He sighed, his forehead on yours. "I'm not, but you're not going to believe me.", he mumbled, watching you get off him and move back to the other side of the bed.

Oceans away. Too fucking far.

"I'm sorry." There was something he hadn't said in a while. "For, like, everything."

"Why am I so fucking important to you? If I just showed up to every game for you, would you leave me the fuck alone? No, you wouldn't, because you sought me out during spring break! Am I just an easy target?"

No. "I don't... I don't fucking know, okay? You just are."

"Is it 'cause you hate me?", you questioned, so quietly that he had to debate whether to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness or actually kill himself in guilt for eliciting it.

"What?"

"Do you hate me?"

"For what?" He had no fucking clue what this could be about. Every single thing he'd done so far indicated the opposite. But he didn't want to let himself go there.

"Being your good luck charm."

Oh. He had to think about that one. "No. It would be weird if it was someone else."

"I just mean... it must be frustrating, when you need someone, and they might not always be there."

"But you will, right? Be there?"

"You scare me, Nate."

He scoffed, slightly, rolling his eyes. "You're unbelievable. Why? Gimme one reason - a real one - why you're scared of me."

"You're violent."

Okay, he was hoping you'd give an invalid one.

"I like beating people up.", he shrugged. "But never for no reason."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart. And anyway, it's not only the beating up that you like."

"Hm?"

"You like getting beat up, too."

Remind him never to give you weed again.

"Why would I-"

"On some level, you feel like you deserve it.", you replied, shrugging as you took a long puff of the miracle weed that apparently made you unreasonably perceptive.

Okay, confirmed, not even the word weed would be mentioned around you anymore.

"You think I deserve it?"

"Mostly, yeah. But not... all the time."

"How do you know so much?", he asked, watching your fingers get lost in your hair. He couldn't afford eye contact.

"Psychology."

"See? You shouldn't have taken it. It's creepy."

You sighed, smiling as you looked up at the ceiling. "Sorry."

He did not expect you to back down, that was for sure.

"It's fine. Never giving you weed again, though."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It actually took until the very last day of spring break for him to catch up with you again. Not like he was pissed that you pushed him away, or anything. Or that he was confused about the entire interaction in the bedroom of someone who, until three weeks ago, he wouldn't have been caught dead talking to. He was just busy. Sure. Let's go with that.

"Hey."

"Not now, Nate."

"What is your problem?" Wait, no. That kinda talk was why you were pissed at him. "Look, we should start over."

God, he sounded like a cunt. This was definitely something that pathetic Shane Crestin would say. Ew.

"Okay. Can you start by going over there?", you asked, restocking the shelves with whatever bullshit condiment you had to.

"I'm an ass. I'm a jerk, I'm- I'm a dick."

You were silent for a moment, before you added: "A small one, too."

He sighed, beaming with relief. "A small one, too.", he agreed, nodding. "I'm just here to ask you over to dinner. My house. I'll even cook."

Dude, if you didn't agree, he'd actually fucking kill you.

"No way you cook."

"Only one way to find out."

He saw the falling apart. The gradual breaking down. The glacier was melting. "I'll listen to Queen or whatever, with you."

The quiet was taunting him, but you came to his rescue. "No steak."

"No steak."

Yes. Fucking yes.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc AU: Danny can’t fix Jason’s whole…deal… and doesn’t want to answer any questions on ectoplasm but he can get Jason to the best therapist he knows! Jason mistakes Danny constantly pushing Jazz his way as an awkward little brother move to set them up romantically- which uh, isn't necessarily a bad thing? Jazz has her own vested interests.

… heads up that this got long...

Jason ran his hands through this hair, relieving them from their previous position of cradling his face in embarrassment. Why was he sitting in a nice cafe with Danny’s redhead sister and a five dollar chai latte? For all the awkward live wire feelings he had, at least she was calm and composed. How many times had this happened already?

“So… the green stuff again?” Jazz asks, taking a sip from her own stupidly expensive drink and giving him eyebrows that beg for his explanation.

“Yeah. I was trying to get your brother to explain stuff without all the science mumbo jumbo. I just, I guess that means he defers to you.” Jason sighed, and tried to not think about how pretty her eyes were as she observed him.

“Not likely. But is the search for your answers helping you cope from day to day or making you climb an impossible mountain?” Jazz asks and it makes Jason fluster.

“It’s a moving goal post, sure, but I need answers if I’m going to fix my-“

“I think it might help you to realize that people don’t need to be fixed, they just need to grow.” Jazz interrupts.

They finish their drinks in a comfortable nonchalance, the rest of their conversation doesn’t go anywhere beyond their mutual hobbies and he’s grateful for that.

Jason's been doing a lot of introspection since this all started.

——

The first time it happened was months ago.

He confronts Danny after a mission, just wanting a simple answer on whether or not Danny thought the Lazarus pit contained ectoplasm? Could ectoplasm be separated from blood? Danny looked a little uncomfortable.

“Look dude, I know you want to know more but like, having this info isn’t going to help you. You need to talk it out.” Danny sounds sad and his eyes are filed with something adjacent to pity. It riles up the pit inside him.

“Oof. See that whole reaction thing. That’s not ectoplasmic, that’s something different. C’mon follow me.” Phantom cringes as he talks to him, and then floats across the rooftops, going slow enough that Jason can keep up on his grapple.

The arrive at a modest apartment building, not too far from his territory but clearly outside of it. Danny opens a window and slides in ahead of Jason, and all of a sudden he’s seated at a kitchen table with hot chocolate and teal blue eyes peering into his soul.

“Danny, some warning next time you’re bringing a crime boss to my apartment.” Jazz sighs and its not said with any malice or sarcasm. Danny gives her a grin and a peace sign before disappearing.

“So you want to talk about it?” Jazz turns back to him and asks.

“About?” Jason’s deep voice is going through the modulator and it sounds more sinister than it should.

“Death. Dying. The afterlife. Those are the normal things Danny brings people to me for.” She blinks.

“There’s a misunderstanding, I don’t need to talk, I need answers on Ectoplasm.” He grits out.

"Hm. Well that's not my field of study, but I can tell you that however your feeling is probably a valid response towards the trauma you've faced in life. Do you think showing yourself some kindness might lessen your desire to know the knitty gritty details?"

Jason scoffs.

"Oh. You're serious. No. I don't think being kind to myself is a valid approach to dealing with an infection that's cost me a lot of family relationships." Jason rolls his eyes. The woman looks contemplative for a moment and Jason can tell that while the dim kitchen lights are doing her no favors, she's incredibly beautiful. He pockets that information and refuses to think about it.

"So...Lets take this a different direction. Do you think successful people know what they're doing or do you think successful people need help to get where they want to go?"

"Most people are dumb and trying to get by." Jason grits out.

"So, accept that you're dumb. And then get by." Jazz replies, and then sighs and leaves the room.

Jason however, is now pissed off. Who the heck was she to say that to him?

____

The next time he finds himself across the table from Jazz, he's been on a wild goose chase with Danny and lands himself in a fancy restaurant. Why the hell was she here?

"Uh, it's called self care." Jazz replies, because apparently Jason asked that out loud. But he's not going to let this lead get away from him.

He takes off his helmet, years of muscle memory make him check that his Domino mask was in place, and sits down across from her. She raises a brow and then sighs.

"You think Danny might give me answers if I hold you hostage over, what is that, some kind of gnocchi dish?"

"Mm. Probably not." Jazz says, taking a bite and pulling out her phone.

"You're just going to ignore me then?" Jason finds himself a bit flabbergasted, he was a fucking crime lord, not someone to be ignored! Like he's just- just some bad blind date!

"Uh huh. You don't want to work on your issues and it's not my job to lead a stubborn horse to water."

"The expression is that you can lead a horse to water but you can't-"

"Can't what? Or are you still going to tell me it's not a huge waste of my time to tell you that you need to accept and forgive yourself to be able to move on. Find peace. Rest." Jazz is taking bites between her last few words but her glare remains unshakeable.

Jason is about to get up and leave when a terrified waiter comes over: "A dish, as compliments from the chef. Your guest's meal as well." He's shaking as he speaks and it makes Jason feel bad.

"Thanks." He grits out.

"...Is that the lasagna?" Jazz is looking at his food curiously, and Jason pushes it forward to indicate that she can take a bite. Probably not the safest thing for a civilian to do considering people regularly try to poison Jason but, meh. He's kind of pissed off at her still.

"It's pretty good. I was debating between that and the gnocchi- Okay let's think about this differently. You want to know about the green stuff, Danny is never going to tell a mortal about it and you keep denying yourself basic self-respect. What does your support system look like?"

"You're really pushing my buttons lady-" Jason can feel the green, but after a breath and seeing her unimpressed gaze "-I have a few friends who know what my deal is, I have an older brother who claims to forgive me, and a merry band of goons that I call my henchmen."

"Henchpeople?" Jazz asks.

"I mean, sure. That's more accurate."

"What do you do for fun?" She asks.

"I take down crime syndicates-" she levels him with another glare, he wonders why its so effective on him "-I read."

"Yeah? What genres?"

"Classics." He can admit only that much.

"Nerd. Are you going to eat any of that? You really shouldn't let food waste like that when it's not even fighting back."

"I don't know why I'm even bothering to talk to you right now." Jason spoke plainly.

"I dunno either but it's easier to tolerate you without the stupid helmet speaker. Anyway, If you like to read, hopefully that means you like to see new scenarios, new plots, stuff like that. You ever think to put yourself in side-character mode and contemplate what your whole deal is bringing to the table?"

"...How so?"

"Like, if you don't think it's worth it to treat yourself well, how do the main characters feel? Or, you know, if you were a child reading your story, what would you shout at them to move forward differently?"

"... I've decided that I only read poetry." Jason grumbles, trying to deflect with humor the fact that he does have some thoughts about what she's saying. She actually laughs at his joke though- he hadn't anticipated that.

"Uh, what is the Dr. Suess line? Stop telling outlandish tales, stop turning minnows into whales? something like that."

"Dr. Suess? Really?" Jason laughs.

"Sorry Mr. Classics, I spent most of my childhood raising my brother, forgive me for not knowing any fancy poetry." She huffs but he can tell she's laughing with him still.

They get off the topic of his mental health crisis and it turns out the Lasagna isn't half bad.

----

Jason keeps chasing Danny. Danny keeps leading him to Jazz. It goes for a few rounds before the ghost kid makes a joke about Jason liking her better anyway. Jason asks what the hell Phantom means by that, but Danny just laughs and says that Jason should just ask for her number.

...This does not sit right in his gut all of a sudden. Does he think that, that Jason is only pursuing this knowledge to keep talking to Jazz?? Does Danny want him to pursue Jazz? Does HE want to pursue Jazz???

----

He spots the Replacement in the Cave's lab before he heads upstairs to grab a cookie and leave as a civilian. The reason he even looked that way being that Tim is holding glowing green vials.

"Is that-"

"Yeah. They're literally the same except for the magic mumbo jumbo that Ra's has mixed in with the pit. Leave me alone now."

"So there is a way to heal it or, or extract it or-" Jason can feel his heart racing, but his constantly-exhausted sibling is looking at him like he's grown a second head.

"Dude. You're not gunna be able to flush it out with like, a juice cleanse. You're probably better off trying to find a magic user to deal with the curses and a therapist to do the rest." Tim looks like he's trying to be patient despite being deeply, deeply vexxed.

"Therapist- why in the hell would I-"

"I mean hasn't that been Danny's entire solution for you? He's only had one strategy the whole time he's lived in Gotham." Jason rolls his eyes.

"His solution is setting me up on dates with his sister not-"

"Dates!?! His sister is THE break out psychologist, she's done more for Arkham in the last year than decades of political reform! You've been goin on- wheez- oh my god I have to call Danny-" Tim is cackling, the lazarus water all but abandoned.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

After a (from both brothers) number of punches, a few headlocks and a large portion of threats, Jason agrees that Tim can tell his boyfriend but no one else.

Kon can keep a secret right? That's why he's the favorite?

----

"So... You and Jazz huh?" Danny looks amused as he floats by- Kon could not be trusted. The entire Justice league knows. Jason might have to die again. Apparently he said as much.

"Oh buddy, it's okay! You don't have to die again! I'm sure that if she likes you, she likes you just as you are, weird little zombie boy." Danny teases, turning intangible as Jason swings a punch at him.

"What do you mean if she likes me?" Jason asks, swinging with his grapple, trying to keep up with Danny.

"You think I read her diary or something? Weirdo. You need to talk to her about it tho, it's funny and all but I'm sure she's not a fan of the JL hot goss."

"I didn't start any of this-"

"My guy. Chill. I know, but uh, I did definitely tell her about it so... Oh look! We made it all the way to her apartment! BYE!"

Jazz is standing in the window and she looks like an absolute vision. Her glare makes him want to shit his pants however, and he knows that it's going to take all of his brain cells making contact to survive this encounter.

He sits on the fire escape when he realizes that she's not moving from her spot in the window, blocking his way. Ouch.

"So let me get this straight, you thought this whole time-"

"I thought Danny was being annoying and trying to set us up! I didn't know you were a shrink!" He tries to defend himself.

"...Why should I date an idiot?" the like yourself goes unsaid but he can hear it. Jason is scrambling.

"...I can make even better lasagna than that fancy restaurant you like." is what he lands on. Jazz bursts out a laugh.

"I was just fucking with you, but honestly what a great response." She's wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Just fucking with me?" He grins a bit, unable to stop himself from getting excited.

"Yeah, I've been telling everyone at work that I'm dating the Red Hood for like, months now. It's been stellar for my hostage record, I haven't had an issue since I started the rumor!"

"We're dating?" Jason asks, a bit bewildered but charmed.

"I wouldn't give free therapy to just anyone! Now about that Lasagna-"

Something, something, something- they seal the deal with a kiss.

[janeyseymour]

Landslide

Summary: Melissa's doing a lot of self-reflection while she ponders about what the future might hold for the two of you.

Feel free to listen to my cover of the song too!

WC: 1.95k

Melissa Schemmenti has been through a lot- there’s no two ways about that statement. She’s had plenty of rough seasons, and they’ve shaped who she is today. And then you came crashing into her life the day that you quite literally tripped and fell walking into her during the first day of development at Abbott your first year. Your mere existence threw her into an existential crisis, and that was before the two of you started dating. And now? She’s contemplating asking you to marry her (how you managed to get her to rethink her entire outlook on life, love, and marriage without your realizing it is beyond her). With this revelation of hers that she might want to get married again, she’s doing a lot of reflection of the course of her life.

I took my love, I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills, til the landslide brought me down.

She used to wear her heart on her sleeve. That’s actually how she fell in love with Joe. It was a typical school girl crush in the eighties when she met him in an entry level writing course during college that everybody was required to take in order to graduate. They fell in what she thought was love and got married far quicker than she had ever expected herself to do. She had climbed that mountain, and she almost made it to the top. But then, their marriage had turned into the situation that she had promised herself she would never be in. She turned around, and as she began her trek down, she saw her reflection in what was now a snow covered hill. She saw the way that this experience changed her, and she knew that she would never be the same again- not after what Joe had done. And then the landslide brought her down, and she had fallen from what felt like the highest peak, and she found herself in one of the lowest valleys.

Oh, mirror in the sky: what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Building herself back up to be as much of the Melissa Schemmenti that she knew and missed was a process, and the redhead knew that it was always going to a little different than it once was.

Melissa found herself looking up at the sky quite often, feeling a sense of serenity when the sun in the sky shone on her face or when the droplets of water that fell from the clouds trailed down her face and she couldn’t quite tell what was rain and what was tears. It was freeing and made her feel as though everything might just be okay.

The redheaded woman was looking up at the sky on a rather cloudy and dismal day as she wandered through the city aimlessly when she finally decided to ask herself what love really is.

Melissa came to the realization that day that she had no idea what love was. Her mother and father certainly didn’t have the love story everyone yearned for- no, they ended up divorced by the time the redhead was ten. She remembers hearing their fights, the cursing and tears, while she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. A part of her had died in those years, and she truly wondered in that moment if the inner child within her heart could ever rise above and find love- true, real, and natural love that wasn’t forced or expected of her.

The woman walked through the city without a destination, wondering if she could handle the changing ocean tide of being in a marriage to being single again. Could she handle the different seasons of her life that were yet to come? She supposed she made it this far, so she can’t give up now- if anything to spite whatever God was trying to make her life a living hell.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

That night, Melissa went back to the small apartment in the middle of Center City Philadelphia that she couldn’t quite yet call a home. She stood out on her balcony, eyes focused down on the streets below her. Somewhere, Joe was roaming those streets looking for his next booty call. And in that moment, she realizes that she needs to change her ways- it’s been two months that she’s been moping around since the divorce was filed.

But she was terrified of change. She had built this whole life around Joe and his friends and family,  and she lost it all in an instance when she caught him in their bed with another woman.

With time, Melissa’s heart healed and mended itself- the only true remedy for heartache and heartbreak. And in that time, she grew to love where she worked at Abbott Elementary. She grew bigger and bolder, back into the woman that didn’t put up with shit and marched to the beat of her own drum.

Years passed, and the redhead found herself watching her first class graduate from Abbott. Only then did she realize that even children grow and get older- onto their new chapter, and then in a few short years she would find herself at their high school graduations cheering and clapping for them among their families.

But Melissa Schemmenti was like family to some of those kids- like a second mother, or even a first mother in certain cases. And she would continue to be there for them.

Only after she enters the door to her townhouse that at least somewhat feels like a home to her now does the second grade teacher realize that she too is getting older. 

And then you came around. You started working at Abbott when Melissa was finally settled into her own being and she was happy with where she was in life. And you came and shook that all up in your flowery sundresses and bright smile. You turned her world upside down with your infectious positivity and sunny disposition. The redhead who wore mostly muted colors with her pleather pants and leather jacket started to wear brighter colors again, because you unintentionally made her see the world like she was living in technicolor.

And after a few months of you working there, the two of you began to see each other romantically. You brought out parts of the hardheaded second grade teacher that she thought she would never see again, yet she was still Melissa. She was still the woman who knew a guy and wasn’t afraid to back down from a bare knuckle fist fight or to bring out her bat to destroy someone’s car who wronged her. You found yourself loving that. You also found yourself loving the way that Melissa would turn soft for you in an instant if you needed it. You knew she was the woman of your dreams, and the redhead felt that too oddly enough.

And so, here she is in her classroom as she waits for you to finish up a meeting with Malik’s parents and doing some self-reflection again as she wonders if maybe you are the miracle that she’s been waiting for her entire life- if you are the one true, real, natural love that she’s been looking for. If you’re the one that she’s going to throw caution to the wind for and get married to.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

She’s been afraid of change her entire life. Melissa Schemmenti thrives off of routine and the things that she knows to be true in the world. But you came and shook everything up, and she’s built her new life around you now. Is she willing to change everything if a second marriage of hers goes south again?

But… time has made her bolder. Time has shown the redhead that no matter what happens, she’s resilient- she’ll make it through. And genuinely, she isn’t so sure that she would hate the change of being married again, as long as it was to you. 

Time passes around her slowly as she looks around her classroom and realizes just how much has truly changed since she started teaching you and even just in the past few years that you’ve been in her life.

The kids that she started out with are onto the real world, they’ve grown up. They’re off creating their lives, creating families and raising beautiful children that are now wandering through the halls of Abbott themselves.

The practice of teaching has changed and evolved as Melissa’s been here, and while she’s always been afraid of change, the redhead realizes that she’s always been changing and growing to fit the standards of the time in order to give her students the best education she can.

And you? You’ve brought a new sense of life and passion into her world… she’s getting older, she’s aware of this. Maybe you’re worth the potential landslide that could take her out again. She doubts you will- you’re nothing like her ex-husband in the slightest. And that gives her hope. The lingering fears though stay with her, because much like you’ve shaped her, so have her past experiences. 

Oh, take my love, take it down. Oh, climb a mountain and you turn around. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide brought me down. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide bring it down.

Melissa’s worn her heart on her sleeve when it comes to you. And so far, she hasn’t had to take it down. You’ve both climbed the mountain, but neither of you have turned around. She saw her reflection as she climbed up, and she’ll be quite frank: she still glances down at the snow-covered hills occasionally when a moment of self-doubt and self-worth takes over. But she doesn’t think that the landslide will ever bring the two of you down.

And so, she opens her phone and pulls up the number of one of her guys.

“Jack? I think I need a ring,” she says into the phone lowly, praying to God you aren’t coming around the corner. 

“For?”

“I think I found the future Mrs. Schemmenti,” Melissa reveals with a soft smile on her face. “I’m done letting the landslide bring me down.”

“Meet me tomorrow after work, and I’ll have a few things picked out for you.”

She hangs up the phone with a smile.

You walk into her classroom a few moments later, bags slung over your shoulder.

“Hey, babe,” you sigh. “You ready to go home? I’m beat, and I need some relaxation and Desperate Housewives.”

Melissa chuckles softly as she stands from her desk chair and grabs her own bag. She stretches to peck your cheek before taking your left hand in her own. Subconsciously, she rubs her thumb on your ring finger as she thinks about the meeting that she has tomorrow with her guy. 

Melissa Schemmenti has always been afraid of change… always wanted to heal that inner child of hers that used to look up into the night sky and wonder what love was. And here she was, changing for you and knowing what love truly felt like.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

would you consider writing a part 2 to ‘Lost’ where Reader goes to the high end stores with their gf’s and they tries to hide that they can’t afford it. They just compliment their girlfriends when they try something on and doesn’t try anything on themselves. She just says she doesn’t want anything.

Lost part 2

read part 1 here

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly)

|| Warnings; swearing, Regina being Regina, reader feeling left out, brief hookup mentions but nothing actually happens

|| Summary; the plastics take reader to a fancy store in the mall, but reader can't afford it so she spends her time complimenting them. Regina takes notice and takes matters into her own hands.

Requests open!

Started; october 12th

Finished; october 12th

~~~

Once they were sure you were okay, they took you to all their favourite spots in the mall. Gretchen kept an arm linked around both you and Karen, knowing that Karen also has a tendency to wander off but now she had to worry about losing you too. Regina lead the way, going to the most expensive looking store first with a massive smirk on her face that screamed 'I'm rich, you're not'.

You followed them in, looking at all the clothes with a sense of longing. The most your parents had given you for this trip was $20. Which looked completely stupid compared to whatever Regina clearly had, probably $1,000 at least.

Regina, Gretchen and Karen spent at least an hour in the store trying on various things with you as their personal cheerleader. Constantly assuring them things like "you look hot" "absolutely beautiful" "gorgeous as always". After the hour mark, Karen realized you haven't put on anything yet.

"Y/N, we should find you something!" There was an excited grin on her face and Gretchen turned her attention to you.

"Oh my God, yeah! We haven't seen you in like anything yet." Gretchen agreed, trying to drag you over to the clothes to help you pick one.

You dug your heels so she couldn't, making her pause and look at you in confusion. "Baby?"

"I..." You try to come up with an excuse for the fact that you couldn't afford it. And if the slightest thing happened to whatever you put on, you knew you wouldn't have the money to fix it. And you definitely didn't want to rely on Regina," I just don't feel like trying anything on."

Regina looked over from the rack she had been at and eyed you suspiciously, looking you up and down. She knew it was a lie, she could just tell but decided to be quiet on it. It was your choice.

"Aw, really?" Gretchen almost pouted, giving you a small tug to see if you would try. When you didn't budge, she huffed and let go.

Karen frowned and walked over," don't you want to play dress up with us?"

"Maybe another day." You shuffle you feet awkwardly, moving to go sit back down on the bench where you'd been before. Your mood having dropped completely. You had originally been excited for today and now you're starting to think you should have played sick and stayed home.

Gretchen and Karen shared a look, while Regina contemplated something in her head before sighing. She walked over to you then grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you into the closest change room; confusing Gretchen for a moment, though she then realized that Regina was probably just trying to hook up.

She wasn't, though. Much to your disappointment. Regina folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at you," stop acting so miserable just cause you're broke. I'll give you some spending cash." She offered, which made you tense up a little. Had it been that obvious? You were grateful she at least thought to take you somewhere more private before calling you out.

"Regina, it's fine.." You couldn't help feeling guilty if you took her money.

Regina rolled her eyes," shut up, I'm trying to be nice and your guilt is ruining it. How much money did your parents give you for this?" She was forward, more forward than you were ready for but you honestly should have expected it.

"$20." You muttered, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Yeah, no. Take it." She handed you $300, which made your eyes widen and she rolled her eyes again," you're my girlfriend which means your reputation is my reputation. I'm not having a broke girlfriend." Her words were harsh, maybe. But she was just trying to hide that she actually did have a soft spot for you and she felt bad you didn't have anything. What the hell were your parents thinking? $20s wouldn't give you shit in this mall.

"I- thank-" She cut you off, pulling you in for a kiss as she pushed you against the wall. Completely catching you off guard but you kissed back with ease.

When she breaks the kiss, she looks into your eyes and smirks," don't be lame. Losers say thank you."

You just nodded and she walked out of the change room, you following behind with $300 in your pocket.

"Change of plans, girls! Y/N will be getting stuff here." Regina looked back at you with a knowing smirk, Gretchen and Karen immediately looked excited again and dragged you along to the clothes.

You ended up getting a couple of really nice outfits, all secretly paid for by Regina. Though Gretchen had her suspicions about it.

The rest of the field trip went well, despite the rocky start and middle; but you couldn't wait to be home. You made a mental note to thank Regina later, ignoring what she had said about that.

[butmakeitgayblog]

when do you think clark & lexa officially started falling for each other? we all know lexa fell first & clark fell harder BUT what was the turning point for clark?

Oooo what an interesting thought

For Lexa, I think that's simple. Hers came in 3 pretty easy sequences. I think her physical attraction started at first meeting. Her respect and admiration started when she watched Clarke save Lincoln. But I think she really truly began to fall in love with Clarke the night that Clarke mercy-killed Finn. I think she saw a kindred spirit in Clarke then. She saw so much of her own broken heart in Clarke, as well as her resolve and strength and clever intelligence. She saw the strength of the warrior and the resolve of the leader and the tenderness of Clarke's beating heart, and it was just a moment of realization.

Like, "oh... now I see you..."

As for Clarke, I think arguments could be made for a lot of their moments, but truthfully, I think it really started after Lexa confessed that she had feelings.

Now I'm not saying that was when she was first attracted to Lexa, nor do I think it was the first time she even thought that she felt some undefinable kind of connection to her, NOR do I think it was when she even realized she was falling for her. But I do think it was the first time Clarke really let herself begin to contemplate the idea of what exactly it was that she felt for Lexa. The attraction. The admiration. That pull that always existed so tangibly between them.

I mean, it's such a charged moment, what with her fighting to protect Octavia and feeling as though she's gotten nowhere. And on top of everything, Lexa has the aUDACITY of being shockingly vulnerable and achingly sweet right in the middle of their arguement - right after Clarke has backed her into a table and read her the riot act about feelings and being a coward and goddAmnit Clarke was JUST feeling like a badass bitch in that moment - and Clarke has to immediately pivot away from it to threaten Lexa's secrets as leverage.

She goes from pissed off, to emboldened, to knocked off kilter by this confession, back to pissed off agaain in the span of, what? 20 seconds?

And yet.

And yet and yet and yet!

When she stomps outside in a huff of righteous indignation, what does she do?

She stops and looks back at Lexa's tent, needing a moment to collect to herself.

That's not the face of someone who is angry. It's barely even a face of relief. No, that's the face of a girl trying very hard to hold her shit together. To steady her resolve. Her ass was shooketh by that confession from Lexa, and while she kept her focus on the goal in the moment, Lexa absolutely knocked Clarke emotionally on her ass to the point that the second she was out of eyesight, Clarke was damn near spinning out.

The girl was a tiny rumpled mess of nerves and adrenaline and Feelings™

And I don't think she ever truly recovered from that moment. You see it moving forward in her increased comfort in Lexa's space. Even with her 'not yet' you don't see her actually pull away from Lexa. If anything, you see that admiration grow. From when they give the plans for their siege with her standing shoulder to shoulder with Lexa (and also stealing sneaky looks wE SEE YOU wanheda 👀), to admitting that Lexa has changed the way she thought about Grounders, to practically holding Lexa's hand when they try and push the button to blow the door open. It's these minute moments of them sharing half smiles and energy exchanges that, while innocent, still feel more charged and poignant than just leaders readying for battle.

Because they were.

And I think she, like Lexa, had every intention of exploring whatever it was between them further once the mountain had fallen.

But... then the betrayal happen.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️EIGHT

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN EIGHT NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

In the rare moments where her thoughts aren't hazy, when she isn't fucked out of her mind, she contemplates her situation, questions it, but whatever vile thing he does to her next, she can't help but realize something: she wants it, wants him, wants to please him, badly. And so, she slowly starts to embrace her new role...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Oral sex/deepthroating. Cunnilingus. Overstimulation. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6.6k

SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT 🟥 NINE

She should hate him.

Fight him, do anything to not let him get away with all those vile things he's doing to her. In the moment she is usually too overwhelmed to do anything but take it, and afterwards she's too relieved it's over, but there are a few clear moments in that undisclosed time between whatever he plans to do to her next, clear enough moments to gather her thoughts, build them up into that burning bundle of hatred and defiance and the will to get away.

It happens when he carries her limp body to the bathroom, when she squeezes her eyes shut and ignores (tries to ignore) his tight grip, the warm hard chest she's pressed against, the way he holds her, protective almost – yeah, ignoring him is very difficult – and so the moment of wanting to hurt him back slips from her too quickly. But it was there, a tiny instant of thinking through the haze inside her head, those few questions that keep haunting her like little bees buzzing inside her skull.

Why are you allowing this? Why are you still here? Why haven't you even tried to get away, run from this place, from his grasp? Why do you lean into him? Why can't you stop thinking about him? Why? Oh for fuck's sake... why?

And the answers usually come whenever he is nice to her afterwards, caresses her soiled skin, wipes away her tears, holds her close and safe in his strong arms. It's the same thought that rolled through her mind whenever she's seen him in the club, when his eyes accidentally met hers through the crowd. That heat that burnt up then, now soars through her like wildfire, erasing any doubts and fears.

Because she likes him.

In a very twisted, definitely unhealthy sort of way. She likes him, wants him, his attention, his caresses, wants to stare at him, be with him, have him do all these things to her (well, the jury is still out on that part, her innocent mind had not been capable of imagining just what he may do to her). And even after all the pain she's endured and is still feeling, she can't keep these needs down, the wants he told her not to have. But strangely enough they align with his wants, or so she thinks.

So he wants to fuck her on the couch and shove his cock down her throat when he comes, sure, she'll take it, because she wants it too, right? He must know that, he wouldn't be doing it otherwise, right? Right?

It's all a mess inside her head, what she wants, what he wants, how those things compare and blend into each other, how his wants become hers, melting together, and the haze grows, and the hatred fades.

In the end she is that small pliant thing in the shower, legs trembling when he pulls her underwear down, when his fingers brush over her heated skin, when she watches him undress, her eyes moving over shifting muscles and tight skin, the dips and bumps of a strong body, so much taller than her, intimidating and enticing at the same time.

And when he moves her under the spray raining down on them, big hands on her small shoulders, she looks up, closes her eyes when the warm water hits her face, head leaning against his chest as he reaches around her and grabs the bar of soap from the little shelf, lathers it between his hands, arms caging her in, before he moves the suds over her skin.

It's these intimate moments that root her to this place of pain and humiliation, of being his (toy) to use whenever he wants. It's warm and comforting, a soft caress after the rough handling, a balance she needs more than air.

His hands move over her chest, soaping her up, cleaning her, calloused palms rubbing over sensitive skin, fingers teasing and brushing, and she feels how much he's holding back, how his cock twitches, pressed into the dip of her lower back with how close and tall he stands behind her, and she savors these moments of his restraint, where he treats her right no matter how bad he wants to do other things to her.

He continues his lathering gently, big hands running down her arms, lifting them, turning them, testing her limits when he dips his fingers into her armpits, but she's too far gone in her mind to be ticklish, focusing on the good things, the warm touches, inhales the steamy air, forces her head to be empty. When his fingers slip between her legs, she lets out a little gasp, then feels his head next to hers as he leans over, cheek pressed against cheek, rough skin rubbing against soft.

One arm wraps around her middle, holding her, while his other hand moves down her mound, fingers gliding through her slit, fingertips teasing her entrance, but then he pushes against her thighs, nudges them apart, and the soap is back to move down her shaking limbs. He even crouches down behind her, holds her hip, moves his hand down to her ankles, rubs his fingers through her toes.

She holds onto his shoulders when he lifts her feet, one after the other, cradles them in his hands, and this time she flinches when he scrapes his nails over the sole of her foot. His soft exhale of a laugh makes her blush, and when he stands up again, he grabs her chin and lifts her head up, staring down at her before capturing her mouth for a soft kiss that turns into a wilder dance of tongues, her body turned around, pulled against his, one big hand fisting her hair, the other grabbing her rear.

Her arms snake around his body, holding onto hard muscles and slick skin as she leans up on her toes to kiss him back properly. These sweet moments... usually end rather abruptly when he changes his mind all of a sudden. This time he pulls her head back, fingers tight around her hair, eyes dark as he stares down at her. She blinks against the water running into her eyes, breathing harder, not sure what to expect, but in the end he lets go of her and pushes the soap into her hands before he turns around and presents his backside to her.

She smiles as she huffs a sigh of relief, then quickly follows the request and lathers his back, rubs the soap between his shoulder blades, down into the slight dip of his spine, to his lower back, around his sides, vehemently ignoring the tight cheeks of his butt. His hands move around to grab hers, and she's forced to pay attention to them after all, but she focuses on the job at hand, quickly rubbing her hands over his warm skin, follows the curves and edges of his body down his strong legs.

As she's crouching behind him, he slowly turns around, and she looks up, eyes immediately jumping to his throbbing erection mere inches away from her face. She swallows hard, and he tilts his head as he watches her. She moves her soapy hands back up the front of his legs, feels the slight shift of his thigh muscles, then hesitates when she reaches his groin. Eyes flicking up to his, she slowly stands up again and brings her hands closer, her heart beating faster.

As soon as her small hands wrap around his length, he puts his own on top of hers, guiding her movements. She bites her lip and looks down, absorbing the way he handles his cock, wanting to learn, wanting to please him more, better...

Those thoughts come and go as well, of putting her own desires to the side and focusing on him and his pleasure. He already takes what he wants, but she's sure she can make him even prouder of her if she puts in the extra effort to do everything the way he likes it best. And it's not (necessarily) to get praised by him, strangely enough, because that would be her own want, it's just to see him satisfied, to see the tension in his body deflating, to see him smile, make him happy.

It may also be the balled-up fear in the pit of her stomach, the fear of making him angry, displeasing him, disappointing him. He's been rough with her before, but that time he's punished her by fucking his cum back into her ass after she's cleaned out the last load, has only been a hint, a little preview of his anger, she knows it. There's so much more darkness within him, more strength, more power, more violence. And she never wants to experience it. It will break her, mentally and physically, she's absolutely sure.

Eventually he guides her hands away from his hard cock, up his chest, over toned muscles, lathering the soap everywhere she's missed before. She watches him, feeling warm and content – which, of course, only lasts so long as he suddenly turns her around, one hand on her lower back as he bends her forwards a little. She stiffens, breathing harder, swallowing her fear.

His other hand moves along the curve of her rear, dips between her cheeks, fingers closing around the base of the plug. He tugs at it, gently, playing with her tense muscles, warms them up, before he pulls it out, and her relief is mixed with shame as she feels thick globs of cum dripping down her legs, washing away in the drain.

She braces herself on the tiled wall as he starts rubbing his hands over her backside, then grabs the shower head and cleans her off, and she flinches when the harder jet of water hits her tense muscles, but he refrains from cleaning her properly.

When he puts the shower head back, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her against him, positions them under the rain shower and lets the soft spray rinse the soap off their bodies. She closes her eyes and relaxes, feels his hands on her, warm and comforting. A strange little moment of peace...

And she should have seen it coming. The sudden change in the atmosphere.

His hand is on her shoulder, turning her around, then pushing her down on her knees in front of him, the spray of the water hitting her back as she blinks up at him. Inhaling deeply, she tries to ignore the sting in her knees, the soreness of her whole body slowly creeping back into the forefront of her mind. But she doesn't wallow in her sorrow, there's no use anyway, she can't fight him, no matter how hard she wishes to in moments like these.

He leans over her to turn the water off, and a sudden cold breeze makes her shiver. When he straightens up again, he looks down at her, and she shivers for a completely different reason. Her eyes rake over his naked body (so tall and intimidating), those shifting muscles when he puts his hands on his hips, the tight skin of his chest, strong arms and legs with veins snaking under his skin, the handsome face, the dark, hungry eyes, wet hair pushed back, water drops gathering on his shoulders, running down in thin rivulets.

She shifts on her knees, moves closer, eyes on his straining cock, standing proud against his lower stomach. Between admiring his restraint and being grateful for it, she licks her lips, raises her hands, but then stops, hovering inches away from grabbing him, her eyes moving back up to him.

He hasn't given her any command, not really. He just pushed her to her knees.

She blinks a few stray water drops out of her eyes. “C-can I –” she starts, quiet, her voice still raw from his earlier demands.

He tilts his head, a smirk on his lips. “Yes? Use your words, baby,” he says, his voice deep, vibrating through the tiled room, sinking into her mind, igniting something hot settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Can I...” she tries again, inhaling deeply. “Can I... s-suck your... your cock?” she asks, voice shaking badly, feeling nervous. As if he would deny her this.

“Can you?”

He's mocking her. Prolonging the humiliation she feels for even asking such a thing. But she remains on her knees, looking up, practically begging him to do this – and there's not a single thought in her mind that finds this very disturbing. It feels natural. He's hard, she's here to take care of that, isn't she? That's her purpose after all.

“May I?” she rephrases, biting her lip, her hands gingerly reaching out to touch his strong thighs. “May I please suck your cock?” The words leave her without revision, they just tumble out of her mouth, while she looks deep into his eyes, focused on him, feeling his skin beneath her palms, and that hot thing in her stomach growls in some sort of need.

He extends a hand and puts it on her head, caresses her wet hair. “Yes, you may,” he says and smiles softly down at her, though there is a glint in his eyes, a hint of the darkness. He keeps his hand on her head, heavy but also strangely comforting, as she shifts on her knees, sits up more, one hand gingerly closing around his hard length before she bends it carefully towards her to bring the tip to her lips.

It's strange to be this gentle with the very thing that brought her so much pain, that stretched and bruised her, punished and deflowered her, choked and soiled her, that, despite everything, felt so good inside her... She closes her eyes and swallows, her lips brushing against his warm skin. His scent, overpowered by the smell of soap, fills her nostrils, his presence fills her head.

He's done so many things to her, with his cock, his hands, his mind, and none of it matters as she kneels in front of him, on her sore knees, fingers closing tighter around his base, as she opens her mouth and closes her lips around his tip, tongue flicking lazily around the spongy flesh, his taste hits her with a force that makes her dizzy.

She wants this. She's asked for it. This is all on her.

His hand moves through her wet hair, gathers it between his fingers, twists it, holds it tighter as she starts moving her head back and forth, hollowing her cheeks, sucking on him hard and with a passion that surprises herself. He's grounding himself by gripping her hair, but he doesn't guide her head.

She feels his muscles shifting under the hand she braced on his thigh, he's holding back, his breaths becoming slightly rougher when she starts twisting her hand around his length, in tandem to the bobbing of her head, moving his tight skin over his hardened core, up and down, while she pushes his tip deeper into her mouth, not too deep, but inch by inch she dares to taste more of him.

Her head feels empty, her sole focus lies on pleasuring him, on feeling and hearing his noises, those little grunts and groans that mix with the loud slurping sounds she creates as she moves faster, strains her lips around him tighter, sucks harder, strokes him firmer. He was already hard when she started, now he's throbbing, basically vibrating with how the blood pumps through the bulging veins that rub along her tongue.

She breathes loudly through her nose, completely lost in the task, her mouth filled with spit and precum, and she doesn't even care what a mess she's become as it starts dripping down her chin and onto her chest. She licks around him, sucks, scrapes her tongue along the underside, pushes him deeper, dares to let him hit the back of her throat, but it's an instinct that she pulls back before she triggers her gag reflex.

A louder groan echoes through the tiled room, and the grip of his hand around her hair tightens, but he still doesn't do anything else, he just stands there, tall and strong, only the slightest of shivers in his legs, and lets her do her thing, gives her time to explore him, find her own pace.

Her eyes flutter open when she leans back a little, his tip heavy and swollen on her tongue, and looks up at him. His gaze is dark, his face a stoic mask, jaw clenched, but he watches her closely. She takes a deep breath, her heart thundering inside her chest, her knees shaking, but something like determination fills her stomach, hot and expanding, and while he looks at her, she opens her mouth a little wider and leans closer, looking up from under her lashes, more of his cock sliding into her mouth, tip hitting the back of her throat, and she braces herself, clenches up, then relaxes, and feels him sliding deeper.

As soon as he does, she squeezes her eyes shut, feels them watering, her hand digging into his thigh, but she keeps going, forces herself onward, him deeper, despite the overwhelming urge to gag or breathe or do anything but let him deeper into her throat. Her body shudders, she can't fight the uncontrollable twitch as she does gag after all, but she still holds him there, his cock in her throat, her chin brushing against his balls, nose almost pressed against his tight skin, those curly hairs tickling in her nostrils, while tears stream down her cheeks and her head feels both full and empty at the same time, her lungs burn, her whole being battles the sensation that shouldn't be.

His cock deep down her throat.

It's him that pulls her back and off him, and she gasps deeply, splutters and coughs, head lowered, spit dripping from her mouth as she takes hectic gulps of air. But there is something in her that makes her look back up, her hands moving towards his cock, grabbing it, wanting to continue. His hand finds her chin.

“Take it easy,” he says quietly, voice strained, but somewhat soft.

She swallows hard, nods, focuses back on closing her lips around his tip and sucking him deeper. Her hands twist and turn his skin as she resumes the bobbing of her head, and she feels him throbbing under her palms, more precum leaking onto her tongue and down her throat. His breaths are rougher, his hand back in her hair, his muscles shifting. She keeps going.

He pulls her back again when she feels him twitching, and it's an instinct, a normal thing, that she leans back a little, hands falling onto her lap, and opens her mouth wide with her tongue out flat, looking up at him, waiting for him to come on her face. He grips his cock hard, his big hand pumping it with expertise, his tip resting between her lips. His eyes are almost black, his face so tense, his nostrils flaring.

As soon as the first spurt hits her tongue, she closes her lips around his tip and sucks, her small hand curling around his, and he groans, strokes himself as he shoots load after load into her mouth, filling her cheeks until they're bulging, but she doesn't dare to swallow yet, keeps it hot and heavy on her tongue. He finishes with a grunt, tilting his head back, his throat working, the tension of his body falling from him with a deep shiver.

Pulling his cock from between her tight lips, he looks down at her, and she looks back, slowly opening her mouth, showing him what he gave her. He licks his lips and nods. “Swallow,” he says hoarsely, and she does, big gulps, savoring his taste, until it is all gone, which she shows him with a strange feeling of pride settling inside her. He watches her darkly, still gripping his cock, before he brings it back to her face. “Clean,” he whispers, and she's already on it the moment his tip brushes against her lips.

She sucks the last drops out of his slit, flicks her tongue around him, laps at his softening length, her head still empty, her only focus on him. Finishing her ministrations the way she has started them, with a kiss to his tip, she then leans away, reluctantly letting go of his cock, watching it bobbing gently before it settles in that semi-hard, semi-flaccid state against his thigh.

His hand is on her head, fingers digging into her hair, a gentle gesture. “Good girl,” he says quietly, his thumb finding her bottom lip. “That was really good...”

She smiles up at him, a sudden warmth spreading within her, and it's not his cum settling in her stomach, mixing with the other loads he's given her before. It's a strange kind of satisfaction, knowing that she's pleased him properly. He hooks his hand under her elbow and helps her to her feet, she feels shaky, grabs his arm for support, leans into him. He lets her and guides her out of the shower.

Slowly she comes back to her senses as the colder air of the bathroom crawls up her naked legs. Wiping at her mouth, she takes deep breaths, fighting the shaking of her hands, the trembling of her legs. He hands her a towel, and she starts drying off, her eyes staying on him as he does the same. It's one of those weird domestic moments, coming out of the shower together, cleaning up, his tall frame next to her smaller one in front of the vanity, their shapes blurred behind the fogged-up mirror.

His hand is on her shoulder, brushing her hair away. She turns to him, inhaling deeply, tilting her head as his fingers trace up along her pulse, over the marks he left, that little throbbing sensation right beneath her skin. It sends shivers down her spine when he touches them, and it makes her heart beat faster when he leans down to place his lips on them. She stiffens, breaths quickening, her arms by her sides while his hands move over her body with confidence, from her nape down to her lower back, from her thigh up to her breasts.

He kisses and explores her, so gentle she is simply surprised by the gesture, overwhelmed by how good it feels, how soft he can be despite being so strong and tall and intimidating. And she feels small, weak, insignificant, just a body standing in the middle of the bathroom, his bathroom, unsure what to do. He takes what he wants, and she's not allowed to have wants, but her own burn deep within her stomach, and lower, between her legs, under his hands, under his mouth, in the wake of his kisses and touches.

A little sigh escapes her, a quiver through her body, and her hand twitches. He's nibbling on her earlobe, teeth teasing, warm tongue licking along her skin, his hands on her waist, slowly pulling her towards him, into him, and she moves her hand and touches his stomach, fingertips scraping over hard muscles, moving over tight skin, around his side, up his back. She's held onto him before, but this feels more intimate, raw, a need she wants to scratch even though she isn't supposed to.

He presses his lips to her collarbone, and her hand is in his hair, digging through it, feeling the wet soft thickness of it, the warm skin, hard scalp, and the shiver that runs through him at the touch. She inhales deeply, takes in the steam in the air, the warmth of him. Her head is spinning. He leans up, her hand slips from his hair, falls to her side, their eyes meet.

She blinks, biting her lip. His eyes are almost black with how his pupils are dilated, that darkness burns inside them, a hunger for more. His tongue moves between his teeth as he exhales loudly through his nose. Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and hooks his hands behind her knees, grabs her thighs and hoists her up easily. Her hands find his shoulders, shifting muscles under her palms as he wraps her legs around his waist, hands under her rear now.

Her fingers slip around his neck, teasing at the hair in his nape, moving higher. She can't help herself, he feels too nice. He watches her, the corner of his lips curling up slightly. She keeps chewing on her lips, they feel raw and swollen, but she doesn't care, her entire focus is still on him, how he holds her against his hard body, strong hands supporting her so effortlessly.

There is nothing dominating about the situation, nothing to be afraid of, no pain to expect, he's just holding her, watching her, immobile, while she fights the urge to dig her fingers into his hair – until she just does it, follows her own want and touches his hair, massages his scalp. The involuntary shiver that shakes his big body makes her smile, a soft little twitch of her lips as she lets her eyes wander over his handsome face.

He stares at her, takes a deep breath, and suddenly he's walking out of the bathroom, and before she can even comprehend what's happening, he puts her down on the bed, he doesn't throw her, or dumps her there unceremoniously, he gently places her down before he crawls over her, braced on his hands and knees, caging her in, and looks down at her. She's shivering, anticipation crashing through her.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers hoarsely, clenching his jaw.

She bites her lip. “I... I don't want anything...” she replies quietly, remembering his rules.

He shakes his head. “But you do, I know it. You can tell me.” His voice is that low thrum in the air, deep and demanding, vibrating through her very bones.

“I...” She inhales deeply. “I want to... touch you...”

His eyebrows rise up. “Baby, you just touched me, you had my cock in your throat, your hands on me.” He tilts his head. “Where else do you want to touch me?”

“Everywhere,” slips out of her without much thought, a simple need falling over her lips. He huffs a laugh. “May I?” she whispers, and even though the lines on his forehead deepen, he nods.

Her hands move quick, almost on their own. First they brush against his chest, then up his neck to cup his face. She feels him clenching his jaw under her touch, his eyes intense but curious at the same time. Her fingers trace along the hard edges of his jaw, up to his cheekbones and over his eyebrows, to his temples, trailing his hairline. An innocent exploration that makes her cheeks burn up the more she touches him, the longer he watches her without doing or saying anything.

For him to allow this, feels almost strange, it's too intimate, too gentle, too much the opposite of what he has done to her. He's this big man leaning over her, a dark shadow taking up her entire vision, he's all she sees, and her small hands move over his face as if she's trying to tame the angry beast. Soft touches, fingertips tapping against skin, easing along creases, brushing over his nose, trailing around his lips.

"My turn?" There's a little tilt to his voice, almost like a question, but it's not. He doesn't ask, he takes what he wants. And still he waits for her to lower her hands.

She does, a little hesitantly, but he's patient for once. Her hands slip between his arms braced next to her shoulders, fingertips brushing against his knees, as she looks up at him with her chest rising and falling faster. He leans down, his body still mostly only hovering over her, that warm big entity, a weight she knows and wants, but he keeps his distance, arching his back as he brings his face closer to hers.

His breath ghosts her tingling lips, mingling with hers. She feels lightheaded, the anticipation gripping her almost a little too painfully. And when he brushes his lips against hers, a soft, gentle touch, she lets out the air she's been holding in a low little mewl. She feels him smiling against her mouth before he deepens the touch, lets his tongue glide over her bottom lip, then over her upper lip, then finally between them, slipping into her mouth as if he belongs there.

She lets him in, meets him with a needy push of her own tongue, and he sucks on it softly, a warm and wet sensation, a flutter in her stomach that turns into something bigger, hotter, burning its way lower until the throbbing makes her hips buck beneath him. The kiss is slow, still hungry and demanding. He captures her mouth as if he wants to devour her, and she moves against him in the same way, quickly mirroring the motions.

Her own wants flare up, melting with his, becoming one. Just kissing him, tasting him, his tongue and lips and mouth and his entire being pressed to her own, it feels like a dream, a strange little escape after everything that happened between them, that he made her do, that he forced on her. This, for once, feels right, and she wants it.

And as if he seems to feel how much she's enjoying herself, he leans back and breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open, a pout on her swollen lips, wet and warm with the ghost of his kisses. He smirks at her, winking at her, before he moves his head down again, pressing chaste kisses to her chin, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She exhales loudly, melting into the soft bed, closing her eyes as she lets him explore her once more.

He settles between her breasts before he shifts on top of her, sliding back, braced on his elbows, body still hovering over her, but closer, warmer. His hands tease at her sides, long fingers brushing against her small mounds. She stifles a gasp when she feels him closing his warm mouth around one of her peaks, his tongue flicking against her nipple, licking around it, and she can't help it, she arches her chest into his touch.

One of his big hands comes to lie heavy on the other breast, kneading, groping gently, palm pressing down hard enough she feels a little sting. Her eyes flutter open, and she watches him breathlessly, her own hands clawing at the sheets. His gaze wanders up, dark and intimidating as she meets it, hard despite the soft movements of his lips against her flesh, making her shiver deeply. He gives her bud a little suck, and she lets out a quiet moan, which encourages him to do it again, and again, until she squirms beneath him, breathing harder.

He lets go of her breast with a wet pop, leaving the nipple hard and aching, before he switches it up and focuses on the other, his mouth once again closing around the peak, giving it the same ministrations. His hand cups the wet one, palm pressing into it, rubbing over her bud, up and down, before he slides his fingers over her and teases it between them. She gasps again, and downright squeals quietly and jerks against him when he pinches the sensitive nipple between his fingertips.

A deep rumble vibrates through her chest when he laughs against her breast, continuing to lick and suck and nibble on her with a hunger that's on the verge of being cute if it wouldn't feel a little painful. But somehow she's leaning into it. After all, pain has become a part of whatever he does to her, it's always there, and somehow, she needs it to be there now to counteract all the cotton in her head that makes her dizzy.

She's breathing heavier once he's done with her tender tits, the flesh reddened and wet, peaks hard and swollen, so sensitive a simple puff of air makes her flinch. He teases her a little more, blowing against her skin, before he finally moves on, shifting on top of her again, bringing his lips to her fluttering stomach, planting soft little kisses on it until he licks broad strokes over her abdomen, lapping at her, tasting the sweat that's sure to linger there. She feels hot all over, almost exhausted, and she hasn't moved an inch since he put her down on the bed.

His hands move along her sides, and he leans up, watching her, slowly nudging her legs apart as he settles between them, that big shadow kneeling at the foot of the bed, looking down at her with dark eyes, ready to devour her even more. She sits up slightly, leaning on her elbows, licking her lips as she watches him with her chest heaving. He doesn't push her back down, he only hooks his arms around her legs and brings his face down, his hot breath fanning over her sensitive skin, cooling when it hits the slick that's been gathering between her thighs.

Despite everything that's happened, how intently he's explored her body thus far, she feels highly embarrassed when he starts bringing his lips to her aching core, a strange thing between shame and self-consciousness, when he starts kissing her lower lips like he's kissed her mouth before, his tongue skimming along her slit, licking up and down, dipping between her folds, lapping up the wetness seeping from her.

She slumps down onto her back again and hides her face behind her hands, issuing noises ranging from quiet mewls to mortified whines, when he starts to suck her skin between his lips, really going down on her eagerly clenching cunt. He teases his tongue against her entrance, pokes at it, pressing a little deeper, but when she bucks her hips into his face, he retreats, and she sighs.

His amused huff of a laugh is a deep vibration against her center, a warm breeze hitting her clit, and seconds later, his tongue circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, flicks it, prods it, before he closes his lips around it and sucks hard.

She cries out, her thighs twitching in his hold, body arching off the bed a little. He tightens his arms around her legs, pushes her down, his breaths hard and rough as he resumes his assault on her nub. Not to squirm against him is impossible at this point, and she writhes, fights the sensations, gasping and moaning and wailing, her voice raw and hoarse.

Her stomach tenses, hands falling from her face to grip the sheets, and when she feels his teeth teasing her overstimulated clit, she jerks her hips up and screams shrilly as she feels the tension exploding inside her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, inhaling sharply, a deep intense gasp that only lets air in and not out, she floats, there's no other word for it, her head is full of a quickly expanding nothingness, there's no worry, no pain, just a blissful void.

He grounds her by continuing his ministrations, keeping his mouth leeched on to her wet cunt, lapping up whatever seeps out of her. He's grunting against her, loud breaths through his nose, his tongue that hot eager muscle that keeps her afloat, keeps her sensitive, keeps her wailing and whining as it dips into her hole, pressing deeper, doing things she had no idea a tongue could do.

She's completely out of it, held in that state of floating right above the edge, pulled back only to be pushed over it again, and again, and again, until all she can do is shiver and shudder, a boneless mess writhing on the sheets, slick from sweat, his saliva and her own juices. Head empty.

Oh head so deliciously empty...

Time must have passed, she isn't sure. Her eyes flutter open, and she's still this pliant body on the bed, immobile, but no longer held down, alone to be exact. Sitting up slowly, her limbs barely functioning, she looks around, before she flinches when she hears his footsteps to her right. He walks out of the closet, wearing running shoes and a tight shirt and formfitting but still loose sweatpants, in the middle of zipping up a matching hoodie.

He approaches the bed, this intimidating shadow looming over her, watching her. She licks her lips, blinking slowly when he sits down on the edge and extends a hand towards her, gently caressing her cheek.

“I'm going for a run,” he tells her quietly, eyes boring into hers. “Be a good girl and rest now, okay?”

Something hot swirls through her stomach, and she nods. “Yes, sir,” she whispers barely audible, watching him smile as he leans in to press his lips to her forehead.

“Don't explore, I'll know if you do,” he adds when he leans back, standing up, his voice low and dark, causing her to shiver. “If you get bored, you know what I keep in that drawer.” She frowns as he tilts his head towards the nightstand, before she blushes deeply and nods, looking away.

He moves his fingers over her leg as he walks around the bed. She rolls onto her side and watches him. He gives her a wink and leaves the bedroom. There's a quiet clicking sound, and she knows he's locked her in. And somehow it's that noise that wakes her up fully. Her heart starts thundering inside her chest as panic settles in.

Locked up. Taken. Forced to do things she never fully agreed to.

Why it hits her now after she's just experienced the best orgasms of her life, she has no idea. Must be that clarity that comes afterwards. It is one of these clear moments as she sits up slowly, grabbing at her chest, mindlessly pulling the covers around her while she stares ahead blankly.

Is this her life now? Or will he let her go once he's done? Will he ever be done? She's his to use whenever he wants, he's made that perfectly clear, so why would he let her go anytime soon? It's her role, her purpose, to... be used, to serve him, to be this body full of holes he can fill up however he wants.

And yet there is something else. She's more to him than that, isn't she? Would he bother eating her out otherwise? Giving her these amazing releases? Unless he's gaining something from it too, which he probably does, though. He's a selfish man, so much she knows by now. But he's let her rest, even though he was definitely hard when he gave her that extra attention (her body still shivers just remembering it all), yet instead of releasing the tension with her, inside her, he's going running?

She must mean more to him. And maybe him locking her up, is a sign of protectiveness, keeping her safe and sound, giving her the simple task to rest and relax (and possibly play with herself if she gets bored which she knows she won't, the thought alone makes her shudder in the worst way). It's almost a gift after all the things he made her do. To do nothing.

Inhaling deeply, she cuddles into the covers, closing her eyes. Rest does sound pretty good right about now.

SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT 🟥 NINE

End notes: This might have been the softest chapter yet, or maybe the first where she's finally fully embraced her new role as his little plaything? Whatever it was, it was fun to write, a nice change to all the unprediactable stuff he's usually up to. (But don't worry, he won't tone it down any time soon...)

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

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