#alright trigger warning time because this one is rough to look at

[crossfalconx5]

“I can’t care about anything but you-“

Poppy playtime chapter four was mid but I loved the doctor so much I made my own OC and got obsessed. This took me three days and I REALLY like how it turned out.

[takes1]

NEEDDD AN OIKAWA X SHY READER, she’s extremely quiet until they do certain things and Oikawa is definitely dominant top sooo 🤭maybe it’s like their first time doing it and Oikawa does something (cokes her throat idk) to trigger her loudness and Oikawa being Oikawa he’s gonna be trying anything to get her to be more loud while teasing her

oikawa making quiet!reader scream

tbh i found it difficult to write him as a top, i just love me some whiny loser oikawa. but! it was fun exploring something different so <3 hope it's alright! i also totally took the quiet thing and ran with it

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. sub!reader / dom!oikawa / established relationship / mute?reader / kissy sex / side sex / safe sex / f!rec oral / oikawa has a praise thing / quiet!reader / use of ASL / petnames / light!choking / big focus on sound+speech in this one / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

He was so pretty between your legs.

A new heat crept up your neck and spread across your face, ear-to-ear. You had to look away, you couldn't handle his intensity- not here, with no clothes, undone and needy under him.

The firm grip on your leg reset you. He draped your thighs over his strong shoulders, exactly where he'd been wanting them for months. Now he just needed you to watch.

"Eyes on me, baby," Oikawa dipped his head back for just a moment to press a kiss against your pretty sex, a perfect grin plastered across his face.

Your muscles twitched around his chiselled features- you couldn't get over just how stunning he was in the dim, warm light of his bedroom.

You blinked away the welling from your eyes, a short whine in your throat at the fluttery feeling his confident tongue gave you.

He touched you, ate you, like he'd been considering exactly how for a while.

His tongue was soft and light as he figured you out- searching for what you could handle, pushing and prodding where you wanted. Soon you were twitching, shaking, and having to be kept still in his grasp.

"M-mn-," Your sounds were small, cute; he smiled against you every time he got to hear it.

Most of what he heard was labored gasps, sighs, and cute little moans he'd imagined many times before.

In truth, you had to stop him early because you couldn't take very much of his mouth-- it was getting you too worked up, too quickly.

He rose, strong chin dripping with clear and some animalistic intensity in his lidded eyes.

But he knew making you squirm would only get him so far.

His sweet kisses, trailed with intention and delicacy all the way up your body made you giggle.

When he cuddled up to your side, he didn't waste any time guiding your body how he wanted. His bottom arm wrapped around you from underneath a pillow, his top arm free to squeeze at the flesh of your hip while he took you in a rough and rushed kiss.

This position was so comfy- you smiled up at him and stretched your arms to look at the two of your bodies, how they'd intertwine, and bit your lip.

"You gonna be okay?"

He looked past your eyes, deep into the swimming thoughts in your head about your first time together. It was like he could watch you think in real time.

There was no reason to sign anything but 'Yes'-- he took your hand and pressed a raunchy kiss against the back of it. If that was to hide how excited he was, it didn't work.

A second of distance gave you the chance to push on his chest. He glanced around your face, troubled for a second-- he found nothing but lustful wonder in your eyes.

His bouncy chest dipped into a cascade of perfect, taut lines across his tummy. You brushed your knuckles, curious, over each of his abs and thumbed the dip of his abdomen to his pelvis. You dodged another kiss.

"See something you like, princess?" Was in a mutter, brushing your temple.

Oikawa often got to ride a line of teasing you and requesting the praise he so badly needed. You smirked and pressed a peck to his sharp jawline.

"You wanna--ah-," He faltered, softened- twitchy and breathy, when you took his pretty cock in your hand, "Tell... me-,"

You shushed him. He didn't try to keep teasing you like that- plus, you were sure he didn't mean to come across as so cute and whiny.

Although you had both been with other people, those experiences left something to be desired. He knew that you, especially, needed a good time tonight. There wasn't a single moment that he hadn't been careful about.

He replaced your hand with his and slid himself over your sex, filling the space between your legs, getting himself coated in your sticky warmth. He watched your chest rise with a pleased gasp and grinned.

It was just what you needed. You squeezed your inner thighs as the friction built -or faded depending on how you framed it- your labored sighs quickly grew between needy kisses.

Your tummy was in knots at the feeling of his restrained groans on your mouth.

He parted for only a moment to snatch a condom from the dresser and tear it open with his teeth. You didn't realize how much you didn't care until he did so- but were grateful he made it easy.

He lined himself up and your panting stilled at the new pressure.

Oikawa busied you with a fervent kiss as soon as he felt you tense. It wasn't a cure, but it did remedy what would've been pain. The thought behind it was what really did it for you.

"I know it's not th'same," He muttered, a little slurred, "But fuck- you feel so good."

Your brow furrowed at the intensity of his admission. You rolled your head back into the crook of his shoulder with a shrinking giggle.

He was easier to take, after that.

Oikawa had become an expert on how pick up your small noises, especially in overwhelming spaces. It was almost like he crafted a special device in his brain to detect you. That's why your love was so special; he made space for you when nobody else did. He tried harder than anyone else to hear you. He cared to try.

Tiny, desperate moans on your breath brushed by his ear- he groaned at the sensation and filled his palm with your soft thigh.

It was good thing, too-- your legs were getting far too heavy, you were grateful that he could hold them in place for you.

"H-ahh, mmm-!" You clipped your own sound short with a gasp.

He was quick to catch it, "That feel good, baby?"

Your thigh was squished further up, nestled between his bicep and his forearm- you watched, eyes clouded and glossy.

His veiny hand filled with your flesh, coupled with how good he filled you up, brought another whine forward.

He swallowed a huffy moan, unable to keep himself from provocation. "Yeah?"

That second bottom hand wrapped around your throat to help guide you for that kiss he wanted. But, you found it impossible to return his hungry prodding with the new buzzing that started to grow in your head.

Your body twitched under him, a cascade of mumble-y 'uh-huh's and 'mm-hm's spilling onto his lips.

It made him chuckle. His eyes began to wander to your chest- as did his hand.

However, you found yourself quickly pushing it back, warm and strong on your skin.

Oikawa couldn't have looked more amused, nor any more proud to indulge you. The sensation was leagues better now that he had an awareness over what it did for you.

"Mmmn-! Mm-!" You threaded your fingers through his soft locks while he squeezed and fucked you harder, completely engrossed by how badly you needed him.

Though this orientation was nice for kissing and cuddling and the start of it all, he was slowly pushing you onto your stomach.

Instead of wasting any time to talk about it, you pushed back on his hip.

He let you go at once, confused for a moment, but blindly followed with a breathy laugh when you rolled onto your tummy and pushed your chest onto the mattress.

Oikawa looked down at you from behind, hands squeezing at your hips.

You were face-down on his pillow, your thighs spread and ass arched up, dripping onto his sheets, patient and yearning for him to fill you up again.

Oh, he couldn't do that without finishing early. Not unless he fucked you with his eyes closed. He swallowed a chuckle and settled over you, trapping your wrists above your head with one hand while he stretched you back out.

It didn't take longer than a few seconds to realize just how strong, how heavy he was, when you tried to adjust your arms closer. There was no moving out of this.

The shock made way for surprise at how quickly this made the tension in your tummy grow- you fisted the sheets, squeezing at how his size hit you from a more intense position.

He placed his other hand back around your neck and you were so grateful he didn't try to make you wait for it.

Although he wasn't as rough as he was right before you switched, you didn't necessarily need it to be. It gave you an opportunity to adjust. It was so slick, the pressure just right.

And you couldn't keep your whines down- with his face right next to yours, he was getting an earful of it all.

"Good girl, f-uck," His groan morphed into a half-laugh, half-whine that clipped his words. It took an equally perceptive person to find the vulnerability and rawness to his praise.

He looked almost angry- his focus was so intense it twisted his muscles up tight.

"Ah!" You squeaked, panting at the sweetness and devotion in his voice.

"Yeaahh, A-augh-Mmn, that's fuckin' ri-ght," His words wavered with a stutter pressed firm against your hair. It really did it for him that you enjoyed his pet names. He loved spoiling you like that, because you deserved it.

He was swelling up inside you, harder, much like his strokes that kept hitting you just right. His closed-mouth groans told you he would cum if only you begged him to.

"M-m-Aah!" A sharp, shuddery whine evaded his hand.

He seethed with a groan and stalled, filling your cunt to the base. Your sounds were breaking down the wall he'd built up in his head so he could balance himself on a dangerous edge.

It didn't really help. His stilled hips, driven deeper than he let it before, only made you want him more. You wiggled against the weight of his body to try and get something, but he gripped you tighter.

"Shhhh," He bit the shell of your ear, baited breath as he locked you in this mean, motionless torture.

His body was too solid for you to move- you could only bite the sheets and wince at your delayed gratification. And fuck, was it worth it.

Rough, calloused fingers readjusted around your neck. His whisper was laden and filthy against your ear as he started to turn you out again:

"Let me hear that pretty voice," He barely got it out- he was seething, completely taken with your tight pussy clenching around him.

He was deeper, rougher, but you could take it.

A sting was at your eyes, forcing them shut, from the staggering waves of pleasure he fucked into you. You completely surrendered all resignation about your volume in moments.

"A-ah-h!-!"

Your whole body seized but it did nothing-- he held you so steady through it. You were cumming before you realized what was happening. It spurred a gasp that yielded to a long, drawn-out orgasm.

An unrestrained cry fell from your lips at its peak. It left your ears ringing and gave your partner the proud satisfaction of getting to finish after you.

It left you dizzy, dumb, and forgetful until he was back at your side, pulling you close to his chest and massaging your scalp. You pressed your body close to his as he pulled the sheets over you.

You tried clearing your throat but found it raw and a little painful. You didn't realize he was talking to you until he started rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

He watched your face work as you craned around to look at him and decided to snuggle facing towards his chest. You could feel him chuckling at your familiar, endearing silence.

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@yuchacco

@integers

requests: OPEN

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[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 8 (The End

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Irena told the shadows that she was finished. The service was over…and quite frankly…she was done for the day. Tired and sad and angry and a thousand other things. 

He came to get her in seconds, lifting her up silently, not saying a single thing.  

"Are you alright?" she asked Azriel softly. She could feel...something through that fledgling mating bond....something she couldn't quite place. He just nodded, mutely, and she took that to mean that he wasn't really fine.

"Mor apologised to me," he said softly.

"Well, that's..." Something, Irena supposed. Probably the least the Morrigan owed Azriel, but it was something.

"What did you say?" she asked curiously as Azriel carried her back to his room.

"That I need time," Azriel said simply. "I need time. They all apologised. But that doesn't just...erase years of hurt. It doesn't."

Irena nodded slowly, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. "No," she said quietly. "It doesn't." She could see the pain in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Decades of hurt, years and years of suffering, it couldn't just vanish after an apology.

She could only imagine the complexity of his feelings: anger, hurt and...a hint of hope.

They were all there, swirling together, warring against each other. 

He had loved Mor for centuries. He still loved her, even now. The thought pained Irena in a way she hadn't expected.

Irena knew that Azriel loved her. She didn’t doubt that for a second…but he’d loved Mor longer than he'd even known her. 

And she knew that…there was a part of his heart…that would probably always…always be for her…for the first female he had ever loved. For the female who had hurt him again and again.

But it wasn't a competition, Irena reminded herself. Azriel's love for Mor did not mean he didn't love her. It was not an either or thing. He could love them both, in different ways.

His arms squeezed her gently, pulling her closer to his broad chest.

"Whatever you are thinking, stop it," Azriel said with a sigh. "I love you. Mor isn't some kind of competition to you. You are my mate, the love of my existence. There is no competition."

Irena blinked, startled that he had seen straight through her. She ducked her head, unable to look at him. "I...I didn't-” she started, her voice strangled, but he didn't let her finish.

He stopped abruptly, adjusting his hold on her so she was facing him. Irena met his gaze, the intensity in his eyes stealing her breath away.

"You are my mate, Irena," Azriel repeated, his voice low and ragged. "You are my mate, the other half of my soul, given to me by the mother herself. There is no one who can replace you, no one who could even come close. Do you understand that?"

Irena stared at him, her heart fluttering at the ferocity in his voice. She nodded slowly. "I...I understand," she said, her voice a mere whisper.

Azriel's eyes bore into hers, as if he was trying to communicate the depth of his feelings without words. "Good," he said finally, his voice rough. "Because I don't want you to ever doubt that," he said, his words firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"I love you too," she told him softly.

That seemed to soothe something in Azriel, the tension leaving his body, his eyes softening. "You, me and the bed," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Sounds like the perfect end to an awful day."

"Bath," she corrected him softly. "You, me and the bath."

He stared at her wide-eyed.

"Bath?" he asked her softly.

"Bath," she agreed, biting her lip. "I just...I just want to feel you," she said softly. She just wanted…

Azriel's eyes darkened, understanding what she meant. He drew in a ragged breath, his arms tightening around her, holding her even closer to him.

"Alright," he said huskily. "Bath it is."

She should have known that even...even when she invited her mate to share a bath with her...he was a perfect gentleman. Averting his gaze as the shadows helped her sink into the bubbly concoction and then sliding behind her.

She maybe...maybe snuck a peek. Just one.

They weren't going to do anything...not that day...not with him still worried about her leg and after the day they both had...but just feeling his warm skin against her body...it was enough to make her forget...nearly everything else.

Azriel's large hands traced over her skin, his touch tender and gentle as he held her against him. The water was warm and soothing, and his bare skin against hers...it was intoxicating.

She could feel his muscles, the planes of his body, the warmth of his skin. It was enough to make her shiver, goose bumps rising on her flesh. And he seemed just as affected as her, his breathing ragged, his grip on her tight.

His lips ghosted over her shoulders, sending tingles through her body. She closed her eyes, arching her head back against him, her breath coming in shaky gasps.

His touch was light, yet firm, and oh so careful, as if he was scared to press too hard against her.

It was then she realised why he wasn't making any obvious moves to...continue their activities. He was being careful with her, worried about her leg.

She could feel the restraint in his every movement, in the way he held her. He was holding back, for her sake.

A rush of affection for him went through her, her throat constricting. She reached forwards, running her fingers over his hands, tracing the calloused, scarred flesh, before entwining her fingers with his.

She felt...safe. Secure. Cherished. Even more than before.

"You know the shadows never give me bubble baths," he said drily. Irena couldn't help but burst out in laughter. "I could get used to this."

"You are always welcome," she said softly.

"Good," he said huskily. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Because I am going to make a habit of joining you."

She shivered against him, his words sending a bolt of heat through her. "I..." she began, her voice catching in her throat. "I wouldn't complain."

Azriel hummed, his body pressing against hers, his hands moving on her skin. "Is that so?" he said in a low, velvety voice.

"No complaints," she managed to say, her voice shaky. "None at all."

Azriel's grip on her tightened, pulling her more closely to him, his lips gently nipping at her earlobe. "None?" he repeated, his voice a little hoarse.

Irena's breath hitched, her body pressed flush against his. "None," she managed to say, a slight, blissful gasp in her voice.

Azriel let out a soft, pleased rumble, the sound sending a shiver of heat through her. "Good," he said hoarsely, his lips trailing down her neck.

She drew in a shaky breath, her head lolling back against his shoulder, giving him better access to her skin.

He made the most of it, nipping and kissing at her neck, his lips and teeth exploring her soft skin.

She could feel his desire, the restraint in his every movement, and it made her body tingle.

It was a far cry from everything else she had ever experienced...and she loved every second of it.

Her blood was burning, a low heat pulsing deep within her every time his skin met hers. She could feel him, the planes of his body, his breath against her skin, his lips on her neck...and he was driving her mad in the best way possible.

"You are everything I ever wanted, " Irena said softly.

Azriel stilled for a moment, her words making his heart clench. "Am I?" he said, his voice low and rasping.

Then he nipped her shoulder gently, a possessive gesture. "You are everything I never dared to dream of," he murmured against her skin

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 11

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 6.7k

Trigger warning; mention of clipping, violence, blood

notes; Hey hey hey, back with this hmm hmm special chapter, surprisingly (or not hehe) I truly enjoyed writing thing one (I'm sorry y/n). Well I'm not going to spoil anything but I hope that you will enjoy that one. Also I had a question because I'm already writing the following chapters, would you rather have a long chapter or two different (with one posted one day and the other the day after) ? Well you guys tell me because i'm struggling a bit haha. See you soon, love you ! (I love soooooo much your comments btw <33333)

previous ✧ next

The last day at the palace was filled with bittersweet goodbyes and heartfelt promises. Each healer expressed their gratitude, their voices tinged with emotion as they pledged to stay in touch and continue the work you had all started. Veras, the healer from the Winter Court, clasped your hand firmly, his icy-blue eyes glinting with determination. “Keep pushing forward, Y/N. You always manage to lead us to the right path.”

Even Rordan, the reserved healer from the Autumn Court, offered a rare smile. “We’ll hold up our end of the agreement. Stay safe.”

Amara pulled you into a quick hug, her hazel eyes soft with concern. “Don’t let the weight of it all crush you, Y/N. You’ve got this.”

Lila from the Spring Court, ever vibrant, waved energetically. “Don’t stay away so long this time, alright?”

Lastly, Telyan gave you a steady nod. “The Dawn Court is always open to you. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

The warmth of their words stayed with you as you made your way back to your room to gather your belongings. The setting sun painted the city in hues of gold and orange, casting long shadows across the polished floors. As you finished packing, you paused by the window, drawn to the breathtaking view of Solterra one last time. The bustling city was beginning to quiet, the glow of its lights preparing to welcome the night.

A soft knock on the door startled you, and Azriel stepped inside, his presence commanding yet quiet. His gaze flickered to you and then to the window, where dark clouds were rolling over the distant horizon. “It looks like the Peregrins’ warning was accurate,” he murmured, his voice low. “The winds will be rough on the usual route.”

You nodded, your eyes lingering on the storm clouds. “It’s going to be a detour by the sea, then. Let’s hope it’s calmer there.”

Azriel joined you by the window, both of you staring at the ominous clouds in silence. The moment felt heavy, but not unpleasant. The bond hummed faintly in the background, but you pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

“Ready to go?” Azriel finally asked.

“Almost,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Let’s head to the entrance.”

The two of you made your way through the palace’s grand corridors to the main entrance, where Thesan was waiting. His warm smile greeted you, and he stepped forward to clasp your hand. “Safe travels, Y/N. I trust you’ll keep us updated.”

“Of course,” you said with a smile. “Thank you for everything, Thesan.”

His gaze flickered to Azriel, and he extended his hand to him as well. “Safe travels to you too, Shadowsinger. And thank you for watching over her.”

Azriel nodded, his expression polite but distant. “It’s my duty.”

With that, the two of you stepped outside, the crisp evening air brushing against your skin. The city stretched out before you, the pale light of the moon casting an ethereal glow over its winding streets and gleaming spires. Azriel turned to you, his gaze steady. “Ready?”

You nodded, though the prospect of being carried by him again made your stomach flutter with nerves. “Ready.”

He scooped you up with practiced ease, his strong arms securing you against his chest. The bond hummed faintly, a quiet reminder of the connection neither of you spoke of. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the sensation of the wind rushing past as Azriel launched into the sky.

The flight was calm despite the warnings, the gentle light of the moon illuminating the path ahead. The vast expanse of the sea shimmered to your left, its waves glinting silver under the celestial glow. Night had fully fallen by the time you broke the silence.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you said softly, your voice carried effortlessly over the wind.

“It is,” Azriel agreed, his tone contemplative. “More than I expected.”

The two of you flew in silence for a while longer, his steady heartbeat under your ear a soothing rhythm. The bond hummed again, but you pushed the feeling aside, unwilling to let it complicate this moment.

When Azriel adjusted his grip slightly, you glanced up at him, catching the faint flicker of a smile on his face as he gazed out over the sea. It was a rare sight, one that made your own lips curve upward despite the tension that had lingered between you.

For now, the world below and the open sky above were enough.

The flight had been calm, serene even, with the moonlight casting its ethereal glow over the endless expanse of the sea below. But just as you were about to comment on how peaceful it was, the first crack of thunder echoed through the sky. The world seemed to shift.

A storm rolled in with a ferocity that took your breath away. The wind howled, whipping rain against your skin in icy sheets, and the sea below churned violently, its waves reaching toward the heavens in jagged crests.

“Azriel...” you began, your voice unsteady as you glanced at him. “Is this—”

And then, everything stopped.

Azriel’s wings, which had been beating powerfully just moments before, froze mid-stroke. The storm itself paused—a thunderclap suspended in the sky, waves frozen mid-crash. Time itself seemed to hold its breath, the silence deafening.

Your heart hammered in your chest as a bone-deep chill swept over you. A presence, ancient and suffocating, made the air feel impossibly heavy. You glanced over Azriel’s shoulder, and your breath caught.

There, in the distance, was a figure—no, a cloud, a mass of shadows and darkness so pure it seemed to absorb all light around it. It wasn’t just death—it was the embodiment of it. The aura it emitted was a promise of annihilation, and your very soul seemed to recoil in its presence.

You wanted to scream, to shake Azriel, to do anything to break whatever spell had gripped the world. But before you could act, you saw something else—arrows. They were suspended in midair, dozens of them, all aimed directly at you and Azriel.

Panic set in. You reached out to Azriel, shaking him desperately. “Azriel! Wake up! Please!” But he remained still, unresponsive, his wings unmoving as though he were a statue.

Your powers surged within you, raw and untamed. You didn’t know how to control them fully, but you didn’t care. A flash of light erupted from your hands, desperate and unrefined, and suddenly, the world roared back to life.

The arrows hurtled toward you with deadly precision, slicing through the air. You barely had time to think. Your hand darted to Azriel’s side, pulling one of his swords free. The blade felt foreign in your hand, but you didn’t hesitate.

You swung with all your might, deflecting the first arrow with a desperate clang that vibrated through your entire arm. The second arrow grazed your shoulder, pain searing as blood blossomed against your skin. The third arrow you managed to divert just inches from Azriel’s wing.

Azriel’s body jolted as time resumed, and his wings beat frantically, his shadows exploding outward in a frenzy. His head whipped around to you, confusion and alarm etched across his face as he took in your disheveled state and the arrows that clattered into the sea below.

“What the—” Azriel began, his instincts kicking in as his shadows swirled defensively around both of you. “What’s happening?”

Azriel’s voice snapped into focus as you both realized the barrage wasn’t over. “Hold on!” he shouted, his wings beating frantically to dodge the incoming arrows. “We need to go down, now!”

You didn’t hesitate, gripping his shoulder to balance yourself as he angled sharply downward, the wind howling past you both. But the next volley of arrows was relentless. Two found their mark, piercing Azriel’s shoulder and causing him to let out a guttural growl of pain. One scraped across your cheek, leaving a sharp sting, before another embedded itself in your shoulder, the force nearly knocking you loose.

The shock of the impact made your body jerk, and you gasped, clutching at Azriel as he faltered in the air. “Y/N!” he called, his voice strained with both pain and desperation, but his hold slipped as your strength gave out.

You fell.

The rush of air around you was deafening, the world spinning wildly as you plummeted. Pain bloomed in your back as three arrows found their mark, their sharp points slicing through muscle and bone. You screamed as your body twisted uncontrollably in freefall. Above, Azriel’s shout of panic was drowned out by the roar of the storm, and you saw him struggling to stabilize himself. An arrow tore through one of his wings, the force sending him spiraling after you.

The sea rushed up to meet you, and the impact stole every ounce of air from your lungs. You plunged deep into the icy water, your body screaming in protest as the salt stung your wounds. The weight of the arrows and the force of the fall left you disoriented, the dark depths pulling at you as you struggled to make sense of up and down.

Forcing your limbs to move, you clawed your way toward the surface, your chest burning with the need for air. You broke through with a gasp, the storm still raging above. Waves crashed violently around you, and the rain made it almost impossible to see.

“Azriel!” you called, your voice hoarse and barely audible over the tempest. A moment later, he surfaced a few feet away, his wings dragging heavily in the water. His face was pale, his expression both pained and frantic as he swam toward you.

“You—are you—” His words were broken by gasps for air, his golden eyes scanning you with a mixture of fear and determination. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” you managed, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’ll survive.” You gestured weakly toward his shoulder and the ragged tear in his wing. “But you—”

“Fucking faebane arrows,” Azriel spat, his tone laced with frustration as he glanced at his injuries. His shadows flickered weakly around him, their usual strength noticeably absent. “They’ve nullified everything. I can’t... I can’t fly.”

Before either of you could say more, a monstrous wave rose behind you, its crest curling ominously as it towered over your heads. “Azriel!” you screamed, the sound ripping from your throat as the wave crashed down with brutal force.

The impact was like being slammed by stone. Water closed over you, spinning you in its unforgiving depths. When you finally surfaced again, coughing and gasping, you were farther from Azriel than before.

“Y/N!” His voice carried over the storm, laced with urgency. He was swimming toward you, his strokes powerful despite his injuries.

You fought to stay afloat, the pain in your back making every movement a struggle. “Azriel!” you called, your voice weak but determined as you tried to close the distance between you.

The storm showed no mercy, the waves tossing you both like rag dolls. When you finally managed to get close enough, you saw the fear etched into Azriel’s face. It mirrored your own.

“We’re not getting out of this,” he said, his voice low and grim as the sea surged between you. “Not like this.”

“We will,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction. “We have to.”

But the storm’s ferocity didn’t waver, and the reality of your situation settled like a weight in your chest. With no magic, no wings, and no sign of land in sight, the vast, chaotic ocean seemed determined to claim you both.

The relentless assault of smaller waves battered you both, sapping what little strength you had left. Your muscles burned, and every gasp for air felt heavier than the last. Azriel was barely keeping himself afloat, his wings dragging in the water like dead weights. And then, beyond the churning sea, you saw it: a massive wave rising like a wall of destruction, its shadow swallowing everything in its path.

Azriel followed your gaze, and you saw it in his eyes—the change. It wasn’t just fear of the wave’s size or its inevitability. It was something deeper, rawer. A realization, perhaps, that this might be the end. That you might both die here, together. Or maybe it was something more—a dawning understanding of what you were to him. His mate.

But there was no time to dwell. You reached out, grabbing his hand as tightly as you could, your fingers trembling with exhaustion and urgency. “Azriel,” you said, your voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “Look at me.”

His gaze snapped to yours, the golden glow of his eyes filled with turmoil. You pulled him closer, your hand clutching his with desperate strength as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Trust me,” you whispered, your breath mingling with his. His shadows flickered weakly around you, their touch almost hesitant, as if they, too, feared what was coming. You closed your eyes and began to recite, the ancient words of power tumbling from your lips like a prayer. The language was old, older than you could comprehend, its cadence resonating with something primal, something greater than yourself.

Azriel’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his touch hesitant but grounding, his thumb brushing lightly against your hair. His wings twitched weakly in the water, but he stayed focused on you, on your voice.

You began to speak, the ancient words spilling from your lips like a song, like a plea. The language was unfamiliar even to you—something buried deep within, rising now in your moment of need.

The words trembled with power, the sound resonating in the air around you, vibrating through your very bones. Azriel held you tighter, his hand now spanning the small of your back, pulling you closer against him as though to shield you from what was coming.

Azriel tried to keep his focus on you, his hands gripping your arms for stability. But the thunderous sound of the approaching wave was deafening, and the force of its presence was palpable, pressing against the air itself. He could feel it nearing, every second stretching unbearably long. His instincts screamed at him to turn, to face the incoming force, but you held him steady, anchoring him with your voice and your touch.

“Don’t look away,” you murmured, your words a promise as your free hand rested against his cheek, grounding him further. The wave loomed over you both now, its height so monstrous it seemed to touch the heavens. Azriel’s eyes darted toward the towering wall of water, and you saw his grip on you tighten—not in fear of the wave, but in fear of losing you.

His shadows curling weakly around both of you in an almost protective embrace. The wave loomed, impossibly large, and for a moment, you thought you’d failed. You could feel Azriel tense, his wings attempting to fold around you both even in their weakened state.

But then, just as the wave began its descent, the power surged through you. The words reached their crescendo, and the light of the moon flared, not as a shield, but as a portal.

A flash—a blinding, all-encompassing glow—and the icy embrace of the storm disappeared. The roar of the wave faded, replaced by silence and stillness. You and Azriel were gone, ripped from the sea’s grasp, leaving only moonlight in your wake.

The town house was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the chill of the winter night outside. The scent of roasted meat and spices wafted through the air, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. The Inner Circle was gathered around the dining table, their laughter and conversation filling the space with a sense of home.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, a half-empty glass of wine in his hand, his brow furrowed as he glanced at Rhysand. “So, when are they coming back?” he asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity. “It’s been days now.”

Rhysand, seated at the head of the table with Feyre beside him, swirled his wine thoughtfully before taking a sip. ��They should be on their way back to Prythian by now,” he replied, though his tone wasn’t as confident as his words.

Mor, who was perched on the edge of her chair, arched a golden brow. “Should be? What do you mean, should be?”

Rhys sighed, setting his glass down and rubbing a hand over his face. “I haven’t been able to reach Azriel,” he admitted. “His mental shields are still up, and I can’t get a clear sense of where they are.”

Feyre frowned, her fork hovering over her plate. “That’s... unusual for him.”

“It is,” Rhys agreed, his violet eyes flicking to Cassian. “But Azriel is nothing if not careful. They’re likely taking their time or dealing with unforeseen delays. The journey from the Dawn Court isn’t exactly quick.”

Cassian snorted, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Unforeseen delays, huh? I’d bet my wings they’ve found some trouble along the way. Knowing Az, he’s probably brooding about something, and Y/N is too busy trying to keep him in check.”

Mor chuckled softly, though her eyes reflected a glimmer of concern. “I wouldn’t be surprised. That male has a talent for finding trouble—or letting it find him.”

Amren, who had been silent up until now, set her glass down with a deliberate clink. “Trouble or not, Y/N is more than capable of handling herself. From what I’ve seen, she’s sharper than most. If anything, I’d wager Azriel is the one who’ll be struggling to keep up.”

Cassian grinned, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to that. Poor Az, stuck with someone who doesn’t let him get away with his usual brooding nonsense.”

Feyre couldn’t help but smile at the banter, though her fingers brushed against Rhysand’s under the table in silent reassurance. “Still,” she said softly, “I hope they’re okay. It’s been a while since we’ve heard anything.”

Rhys nodded, his gaze distant for a moment before he refocused on the group. “They’re both strong. If anyone can handle the unexpected, it’s Azriel and Y/N.”

Mor leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand. “I just hope they’re not killing each other,” she quipped. “Or, you know, that Az hasn’t scared her off with his silent brooding routine.”

Cassian barked a laugh, shaking his head. “If anyone could out-brood Azriel, it’s probably Y/N.”

The table erupted in laughter, though the undercurrent of concern remained. As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Feyre caught Rhys’s eye, her own filled with a quiet question. Rhysand gave her a small, reassuring smile, though his thoughts lingered on Azriel and Y/N, his mind brushing against the night’s stars as he silently hoped for their safe return.

The lively warmth of the town house was shattered in an instant. Rhysand shot to his feet so abruptly that his chair clattered to the floor behind him. The easy conversation and laughter ceased as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Everything on the table vanished—a soundless flash of magic clearing plates, glasses, and food from sight.

In the same moment, a deafening crash echoed through the room. From above, two figures fell, slamming into the now-empty table and shattering it into pieces.

Y/N landed first, sprawled atop Azriel, both of them drenched to the bone, seawater pooling around them. Their chests heaved as they struggled for breath, their bodies trembling. Y/N pushed herself off Azriel weakly, staggering to her feet before abruptly doubling over to vomit a mix of seawater and blood onto the floor.

Azriel remained on the ground, gasping but visibly more stable than her. His wings were tense but intact, though blood seeped from arrows embedded in his shoulders and arms. He coughed, spitting water onto the floor as he tried to sit up.

Cassian surged forward, his voice a low growl of concern. “What the hell happened?”

Y/N, barely steady on her feet, turned her head, her voice raw and hoarse as she rasped, “Madja... Call Madja.”

Feyre moved immediately, her face pale but focused. Before she could leave, Y/N weakly caught her hand, murmuring a list of plants she needed. “Feyre... There’s no time. From the garden—fetch what I need to start the healing.”

Feyre nodded without hesitation and bolted out of the room.

Y/N stumbled toward Azriel, her trembling hands faintly glowing with healing magic. But before she could reach him, her knees buckled. Cassian was there in an instant, catching her just before she hit the ground.

“Y/N, stop!” Cassian growled, his voice filled with panic. “You’re worse off than he is.”

“Doesn’t... matter,” she rasped, trying to push him off and weakly reaching toward Azriel. “He needs—”

Cassian held her firmly, his face a mask of alarm. “You’re bleeding everywhere. You’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” she hissed, though her head lolled to the side, her strength draining rapidly.

Azriel, sitting up now, looked over at her with wide, alarmed eyes. “Y/N,” he croaked, his voice breaking. “Stop. Just—stop.”

Mor knelt beside Azriel, carefully inspecting the arrows in his shoulders and arm, while Rhysand stood frozen for a heartbeat, his expression betraying the fear he usually masked so well.

Madja burst into the room moments later, her sharp eyes scanning the chaos. The instant she saw Y/N, her expression hardened. “Mother above,” she murmured, rushing to her.

“Start with him,” Y/N wheezed, gesturing weakly toward Azriel. “I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing,” Madja snapped, kneeling beside her. Her hands moved deftly over Y/N, assessing her condition with a precision that belied her worry. “You’re barely conscious. Don’t even think about giving me orders.”

Azriel, still struggling to his feet, waved Mor away weakly. “I’m fine,” he insisted, his voice strained but steady. His golden eyes locked onto Y/N, and despite the blood trickling down his arm, his focus was entirely on her. “Take care of her.”

Madja glared at him briefly. “Sit. Down,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Amid the chaos, Y/N’s defiant voice broke through. “Azriel... Is he—”

“I’m fine,” Azriel interrupted sharply, his voice firm. “You’re not.”

Madja growled under her breath, barking instructions to Rhysand to reinforce the room’s protective wards and to Feyre, who had just returned with an armful of plants. Cassian held Y/N steady as Madja worked to stabilize her, and Mor hovered close, ensuring that Azriel didn’t try to move too much.

The tension in the room was thick as they fought to manage the injuries and exhaustion. Every glance exchanged between the Inner Circle was filled with unspoken worry, their usual composure shaken.

“You both have a death wish,” Cassian muttered, though his grip on Y/N was firm and protective.

And as Madja’s magic flared to life, it became clear that survival was only the first step in a much longer battle.

Madja knelt beside you, her sharp gaze scanning the damage. Her hands hovered over the arrows lodged in your back, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Go see Azriel,” you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Madja’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with irritation. “Shut up, Y/N. You’re losing too much blood, and if you weren’t in this state, I’d slap you for suggesting something so foolish.”

You coughed weakly, a humorless smile tugging at your lips. “Just... take the arrows out and put me under the stars. I’ll be fine.”

Madja’s eyes narrowed, her exasperation palpable. “If you die because of that nonsense, I swear I’ll bring you back just to kill you again.”

She began assessing the arrows embedded in your back, her movements precise but brisk. “Can I remove your top?” she asked, her voice softening slightly.

You nodded, the movement weak. “Go ahead.”

As Madja carefully eased the fabric away, the pain lanced through you, but it wasn’t what made you tense. The moment your back was fully exposed, you felt the atmosphere in the room shift. Even without seeing them, you knew Rhys, Feyre, and Cassian had seen the scars. The room seemed to hold its breath as their silence deepened.

Their reactions were palpable—Rhys’s grip on his magic tightened, the faint hum of power crackling in the air. Cassian let out a sharp exhale, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with something much darker. Feyre’s sharp intake of breath carried the weight of her empathy, her hand instinctively reaching for Rhys.

Madja worked quickly, her hands steady as she muttered incantations under her breath to stem the bleeding. You clenched your teeth, the pain threatening to pull you under, but you forced yourself to stay conscious just a moment longer.

“Tell them,” you murmured, your voice slurring slightly. “Tell them what happened.”

Madja’s gaze flickered to yours, her expression unreadable, but she nodded once, her attention returning to her task.

Azriel stood frozen nearby, his shadows writhing in agitation. His face was pale, his usually composed features betraying the turmoil within him. His golden eyes flicked between you and the others, but it was clear that his focus was on you.

When Madja pulled the last arrow free, your body shuddered, and the darkness pressing at the edges of your vision began to consume you.

Madja straightened, brushing a hand across her brow. “She needs to be somewhere she can rest and heal without interruption.” 

After hesitating for only a moment Azriel told her “Let me take her to my room. It’s the closest” 

"You will do no such thing Azriel let me take her” Cassian tried to stop him. 

“No, please, no” with confusion the general let him do so. 

His shadows curled around you protectively as he carefully lifted you into his arms. You barely stirred, your body limp against him, your breaths shallow but steady. The sight of you like this sent a pang through his chest, but he buried it, focusing on the task at hand.

As he carried you upstairs, his mind was a storm. The bond that had hummed quietly between you since Solterra now roared with clarity, overwhelming him. You were his mate—and he hadn’t seen it until now. And the sight of you, broken and bleeding, was almost more than he could bear.

When they reached his room, Madja followed close behind, already giving him instructions. “Lay her down gently, and I’ll finish tending to her wounds.”

Azriel placed you carefully on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. As Madja worked, he lingered nearby, his golden eyes never leaving your face. The scars on your back, the fresh wounds, the exhaustion etched into your features—it was all too much. His shadows coiled around his shoulders, mirroring the storm within him.

When Madja finished stabilizing you, she turned to Azriel, her expression softening for the first time. “She’ll need time to recover, but she’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

Azriel nodded, his throat tightening. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Madja patted his arm gently before gathering her supplies and leaving the room. 

After coming back in the living room of the townhouse, Azriel sat at the edge of the chair, his elbows resting on his knees, wings drooping with exhaustion. His soaked clothing clung to his frame, and blood still oozed from the punctures left by the arrows, though Madja worked quickly to close the wounds.

Rhysand stood near the fireplace, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, the tension radiating off him palpable. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low but sharp.

Azriel’s jaw clenched as he considered his words. “You should ask her,” he finally said, his voice gruff. “Everything was fine. The storm came out of nowhere, but it wasn’t the weather that was the problem.”

Rhys’s violet eyes darkened, his power flickering faintly around him. “Then what was?”

Azriel exhaled sharply, frustration evident. “We were flying. The storm was manageable until...” His golden eyes lifted to Rhys. “Until the arrows came. Y/N moved out of position suddenly—I didn’t understand why at first—but then she was deviating arrows midair. One clipped me, and the next thing I knew, we were falling into the sea.”

Cassian, who had been silently listening, stepped closer. “Arrows?” he repeated, his voice heavy with concern. “You’re saying someone attacked you in the middle of a storm?”

Azriel nodded, his shadows curling tightly around his shoulders. “The attack wasn’t random. Whoever it was... they knew we’d be there.”

Rhys’s face grew even grimmer. “Koshiev.” The name hung in the air like a curse. He glanced at Azriel, his expression unreadable. “Even if you were caught in the crossfire, this attack wasn’t for you, Azriel. It was for her.”

Azriel’s gaze sharpened, and his hands curled into fists. “Why would Koshiev target her? She’s not a warrior. She’s—”

“She’s more than you realize,” Madja interjected, not lifting her eyes from her work. She sealed the wound in Azriel’s shoulder with precise movements, her tone calm but carrying an edge of urgency. “Do you have any idea the influence she has? The help she’s provided?”

Cassian frowned, glancing between them. “We know she’s a gifted healer, but why would that put her in Koshiev’s sights?”

Madja straightened, her hands pausing over her tools. She glanced at Rhys and then back to Azriel. “Over the last century, many of the continent’s most deadly diseases have been stopped in their tracks because of her. She’s discovered cures where others saw none, saved lives on scales most can’t even imagine. To a being like Koshiev, who thrives on death, fear, and chaos, she’s a threat. A formidable one.”

Azriel’s shoulders stiffened, his mind racing. “But that doesn’t explain—”

“It’s not just what she does,” Madja interrupted, her voice softer now. “It’s what she is.”

Rhys’s brows furrowed, his focus narrowing on Madja. “What do you mean? What is she?”

Madja hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the staircase where you rested. “It’s... complicated,” she said carefully. “But suffice it to say, she’s not an ordinary healer. Her connection to the stars, the moon, to the light—it’s something ancient, something powerful. Something that beings like Koshiev despise and fear.”

Azriel sat back, his gaze fixed on Madja as if searching for answers in her words. His mind reeled with the implications, his thoughts a storm of emotions—fear, frustration, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

Rhysand’s expression darkened further, his hands tightening into fists. “If Koshiev sees her as a threat, then we’ll need to protect her. More than we already have.”

“She’s not going to make it easy,” Madja said with a wry smile. “That woman has a will stronger than steel. But for now, she needs rest. And so do you,” she added, fixing Azriel with a pointed look.

Azriel didn’t respond immediately. His thoughts lingered on you, on the weight of what Madja had said, and on the realization that the attack tonight had been meant for you. He rose from the chair, his wings drooping slightly but his stance firm. “She’ll be safe,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a steely determination.

Cassian clapped him on the back, his grip firm. “Damn right she will.”

But even as the conversation shifted, Azriel couldn’t shake the unease that settled deep in his chest—the knowledge that Koshiev’s shadow loomed closer than ever.

Cassian leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed tightly as he stared at the empty space where you had been carried upstairs. His voice broke the silence, low and heavy. “The scars on her back... are they what I think they are?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his golden eyes darkening as he glanced away. He didn’t need to hear the answer; he already knew. His shadows curled tighter around his shoulders, betraying the tension he felt.

Madja sighed, her hands stilling over her tools as she met Cassian’s gaze directly. “Yes. She was clipped.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, palpable and suffocating. Rhysand straightened, his violet eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and confusion. “Clipped?” he repeated, his tone sharp. “How? When?”

Madja leaned back in her chair, her expression weary. “It’s a long story, but if you’re asking how it’s possible... it happened when she was young. Very young.” She hesitated, her gaze softening. “I first met Y/N when she was six, maybe seven years old. Her parents had just died in the aftermath of the war. She was left alone, one of the many orphans wandering Prythian at the time.”

Cassian frowned, his grip on his arms tightening. “She’s from Velaris right?”

Madja nodded. “Yes, but it wasn’t a kind childhood. She ended up in one of the only orphanages we had here. I... I wanted to adopt her, but I couldn’t.”

Rhysand’s gaze narrowed, his tone gentler now. “Why not?”

Madja exhaled slowly, her hands clasping tightly in her lap. “Because I could barely take care of myself. The war had taken everything from us—our peace, our sleep, our stability. I couldn’t bring a child into that chaos, no matter how much I wanted to. But I could teach her.”

Azriel’s eyes snapped back to her, the flicker of surprise evident despite his stoic expression.

“I taught her to heal,” Madja continued, her voice softer now, tinged with something almost maternal. “She was brilliant at it. Gifted, really. Even as a child, she had this... this innate understanding of life, of how to mend it. Time passed, and she grew stronger. Wiser. By the time she was seventy-two, she was already a better healer than many twice her age.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, his expression conflicted. “So what happened?”

Madja’s expression darkened, her voice lowering. “She went to Illyria.”

The tension in the room spiked immediately. Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, and Cassian and Rhysand exchanged wary glances.

“She wanted to visit her parents’ tomb,” Madja said. “To pay her respects. But... it didn’t go as planned. I don’t need to describe the scene to you. You’ve seen what happens to half-Illyrians or even regular Illyrian females who return to those camps.” Her voice broke slightly, but she pressed on. “They clipped her. Left her for dead in the snow.”

Rhysand’s power surged faintly, the lamps flickering as he struggled to contain his fury. “They clipped a healer?” His voice was deadly quiet, his rage barely restrained. “And left her to die?”

Madja nodded, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of sorrow and pride. “She did die.”

Cassian’s breath hitched, and even Azriel stiffened. “What?” Cassian whispered, his voice hoarse. “But—”

“But she came back,” Madja interrupted, her voice steady now. “The Mother brought her back. And with that gift, she was given powers unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Powers tied to the stars, the moon and the sun themselves.”

Azriel’s shadows stilled, his mind racing as he processed the revelation. Rhysand’s jaw tightened, his fury still simmering beneath the surface. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?” he demanded.

Madja’s gaze hardened. “Because it wasn’t my story to tell. And it still isn’t. But perhaps now you’ll understand why Koshiev might see her as a threat. She’s not just a healer. She’s a force of life itself, blessed by the mother and that terrifies beings like him.”

Silence fell over the room, the weight of Madja’s words sinking into each of them. Cassian broke it first, his voice quieter now. “And she’s carried all of this... alone?”

Madja’s eyes softened. “Not entirely alone. But yes, for the most part.”

Azriel sat back in his chair, his mind a whirlwind of emotions—anger at the injustice you had suffered, awe at the strength it must have taken to survive, and something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to confront.

Rhysand finally spoke, his voice resolute. “Then we protect her. Whatever it takes.”

Madja nodded, her expression resolute. “She’s not one to ask for help. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need it.”

Azriel’s shadows curled around him protectively, his voice low but firm. “She’ll have it.”

The office was bathed in the dim glow of Velaris’s nightlights, the rhythmic scratch of Rhysand’s pen the only sound as he finished his missive to Thesan. Azriel sat in a chair across from him, his posture rigid but his mind clearly elsewhere. He had bathed and changed into clean clothes in a spare room at the townhouse, but the physical comfort did little to soothe the storm raging within him. His thoughts spun, caught between the weight of your injuries, the attack, and the seismic realization that you were his mate.

His mate.

The words felt heavy and unfamiliar, both a revelation and a burden. You. The healer who had worked tirelessly by his side. The one who had challenged him, comforted him, and stood unwavering even in the face of Koshiev’s deadly arrows.

Rhysand’s voice cut through the silence, quiet but heavy with guilt. “Azriel.”

Azriel lifted his gaze, his expression impassive. Rhys set his pen down, turning his full attention to his brother.

“I was wrong,” Rhysand admitted, his tone raw. “What I said to you before... it was cruel, thoughtless. You’re my brother, and you’ve stood by me through everything. You didn’t deserve that.”

Azriel inclined his head, acknowledging the apology but saying nothing. Rhysand studied him, his regret clear in his eyes. “I know words don’t undo the damage. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to mend what I’ve broken.”

“It’s fine,” Azriel said softly, though his voice lacked conviction. He gave a brief nod, more out of obligation than genuine acceptance. Both of them knew that wounds like these took time to heal, if they ever fully could.

A silence settled between them again, heavier this time. Finally, Azriel broke it, his voice quiet but firm. “She’s my mate.”

Rhysand froze for a beat, then slowly leaned back in his chair. A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips, though it was far from mocking. “I know.”

Azriel frowned, his shadows curling tighter around him. “You knew?” he asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

Rhysand’s smile softened. “It wasn’t hard to see, Az. The way she looks at you... it’s the same way I used to look at Feyre when she had no idea we were bonded. Y/N did an incredible job masking it, I’ll give her that. But I’ve been in her shoes. I know what it looks like.”

Azriel’s frown deepened, his mind racing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Rhysand’s gaze turned serious, his voice calm but pointed. “Would it have mattered? Look at how you’ve been with Elain. Do you think Y/N would have told you when she saw you pining for someone else?”

Azriel’s heart clenched, the memory of all those moments with you suddenly taking on a new, painful clarity. Rhysand continued, his tone gentler now. “Why do you think it took me so long with Feyre? I wouldn’t have told her while she was still talking to me about how in love she thought she was with Tamlin. It would have been cruel.”

And then the full weight of it hit Azriel. He had asked you, his mate, for advice about Elain—another woman. You had listened, offered him wisdom, and concealed the pain of your bond so flawlessly that he had never suspected a thing.

A knot of guilt and self-loathing twisted in his chest. He had done a terrible thing.

Azriel leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head dropping into his hands. His shadows swirled restlessly around him, mirroring the turmoil within. Rhysand watched him silently for a moment before speaking.

“You didn’t know,” Rhys said softly. “And she never wanted you to feel obligated. But you know now, Az. What you do with that knowledge... that’s up to you.”

Azriel lifted his head, his golden eyes filled with conflict. “I don’t deserve her,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Rhysand.

Rhysand’s gaze softened. “You might not feel like it now. But that’s not for you to decide, is it? It’s hers. Just... don’t wait too long to figure it out. Bonds don’t wait forever.”

Azriel nodded faintly, though the weight of the conversation pressed down on him. The image of you—wounded, determined, and selfless—lingered in his mind, a reminder of the strength and grace you had shown even when it must have cost you everything.

And now, he realized, it was his turn to figure out what came next.

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[gingersxng]

Who’s Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf pt.2

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi (ft. Yunho)

Genre: smut 18+, angst

WARNING: this contains abusive and inappropriate stuff that may be triggering or disturbing for some people. if you decide to read further then you’ve been warned!!

Notes: consensual until the end, sub!reader, mean rough dom!Mingi, big dick!Mingi, Mingi is violent, soft!Yunho, Yunho isn’t Mingi’s friend anymore, abusive relationship, possessiveness, lots of crying, cutting, mentions of SA, lying, pussy play, fingering, taking pictures, drunk!Mingi, breeding kink, perverted actions, blood, bruises, hickeys, unprotected sex (don’t), abusing, manhandling, Mingi calls reader whore, lamb & slut, slapping, dacryphilia, kissing, anxiety, depression, self harm, eating disorders, cum cum cum, degrading, spitting, slapping, may have forgot something!

a/n: finally able to post something, I may have went a little hard on this one but messed up minds creates messed up stories..

part one here!!

Words: 2.4k

This freaky toxic roller coaster had went on for a few months now, everything was the same as it always had been, it was part of your daily life now.

But not for everyone. Your friends got concerned when you kept disappearing all the time when they’d invited you to parties, dinners, shopping dates etc. Mingi always had his grip on you even though he wasn’t there, he always texted or called you when you were doing something that didn’t involve him.

Your friends followed you home one day. Mingi was gone for the weekend and you were all alone. Since they knew Mingi wasn’t there they wanted to talk about your so called “situation” but it only made you roll your eyes at them. You were tired of everyone having an opinion but yourself, everyone else’s opinions mattered but yours don’t, like it’s always been. That’s a reason you’re in this mess, because no matter how hard you’d try, you’d never received love, understanding or respect.

“Pls y/n, you have to understand he isn’t good for you.” Your friend Ella said. “I mean look at you! You’re bruised up, you’ve got fresh cuts on your thighs and you’ve become thinner again.” Your other friend Belle said and put a hand on your shoulder. You looked down at your bruised knees, you almost couldn’t hear what they were telling you, the noise in your head was being too loud.

“I love him…” you sniffed, a little tear rolled down your cheek. Anger was beginning to fill your body up, that was your response to everything, ever since your early traumatic experiences began. “We just wanna help you, we care so much about you and we’re worried” Belle said. You got up from the bed and looked at them both with teary eyes, your fists were curled up along your sides. “If you take him away from me… the only person I’ve felt loved and respected by, I’m ending this friendship right here!!” Your voice trembled and the tears flowed. The two friends looked at each other and then at you who once again disappeared right in front of them, you went out to get some fresh air and to clear your mind.

Before Belle and Ella went home they told you one last thing, they didn’t want to hurt you but they knew you had to find out yourself one day. “I think he should be arrested y/n…I’m not sure what he’s doing to you but it’s not okay” Ella said with a lump in her throat knowing it would hurt you more to hear that.

You spent the whole weekend locked up alone in your room crying, the pillows were stained from all the tears. It all felt hopeless, and yet no one cared about you being all alone 48 hours without getting out, not even your mom.

A buzzing sound from your phone woke you up after you’d cried yourself to sleep, it was Yunho, another good friend of yours but why did he try to reach you?

Yunho: Hi y/n! You alright? :)

You hadn’t been in contact with him for super long, and now all of a sudden he texts..

Me: Hi, I’m fine thanks :)

Yunho: Really?? I heard you weren’t.

Me: Who told you that, I’ve never been better.

Yunho: Belle and Ella texted me and said you’ve been spending too much time with Mingi and they wanted me to check on you.

Me: I’m fine, really! Don’t worry about me okay!

Yunho: Okay, just know that I’m here, deal?

Me: Thank you, deal!

“Of course they had told someone else, why drag in more people into this” you thought to yourself as you yet again began to cry.

Next day you got startled by a knock on your bedroom door. Your first guess was your mom who finally would come to visit you but instead you were met by a tall muscular, black spiky haired man. He looked at you with the same lust filled eyes and a smirk on his face, just like he always do.

Gasping, you looked up at him, but before you could get out a word he slammed his lips onto yours and forced you down on your bed again, he roamed your tiny body and placed his knee between your legs. Mingi nibbled on your earlobe and whispered “I heard you’ve told your friends about me..” your heart dropped to your stomach and you turned cold.

“It’s not what you think Mingi” you cried out. “Oh really, I heard I was gonna be arrested for SA?!” He growled in your ear, the words cut through you like a knife. The two of you stared at each other for what felt like eternity, it was almost as if your whole life flashed before your eyes, every experience you’ve been through. Mingi pushed his knee harder against your heat, waiting for you to say something, explain to him.

His eyes spotted the red lines on your thighs. “I see you’ve been playing with the razor again, my little slut” he caressed your fresh cuts. “Not talking huh? Maybe I have to fuck the words out of you, how about that” he growled, his cross necklace dangled inches from your face, you gently grabbed it and looked him straight into his dark eyes. “If you promise to change.. like they said” you softly spoke with a lump in your throat. “They wanna have you arrested Mingi..” you cried. If you only knew how much anger and rage was buried inside that man, he was about to boil over at this point. He was scared for getting caught but most of all he was scared of loosing you the most, sure he never showed his affection in any other form than rough sex but deep down he actually loved you. You’re the only girl he’d been with the longest, other girls were nothing more than air the morning after. Mingi bit his inner cheek and let go of you, he stood at the end of your bed and just stared down at you. You sat up, a little shocked by his sudden act, you dried your tears and fixed your top. “If you want me to change.. I will” he said with pain in his deep voice. “I don’t want you to change, they want it”.

A smirk slowly formed on his face, the hot blood pumping through his veins rushed down to his dick, it strained uncomfortably against his pants. He pushed you gently down onto your back and hovered over you again, making your heart skip a beat. One of his hands went down to cup your heat while the other one held him up so he wouldn’t collapse on you, he put some pressure on your pussy and you let out a moan. Just what he wanted to hear. Slowly he began to rub your clit through your sleeping shorts, he loved the way you closed your eyes and bit your lip.

“Right, you don’t want me to change” Mingi teased as his speed increased on your clit. “No I don’t mmh” you moaned. You laid spread out in the bed like a doll as Mingi abused your sensitive nub, the heat in your stomach was building up fast and you were almost at your peak of pleasure. He plunged two fingers into your pussy, his thumb continued rubbing your clit. Mingi absolutely loved watching you fall apart under him, no matter what nasty stuff he did to you, it always got his dick rock hard.

“Haha.. are you gonna cum for me, my little lamb?” He purred, smirking at you. “Pls Mingi I’m so close” you whined, you squirmed. He gave your thigh a hard stinging slap making you jolt, his big hand grabbed your chin and brought you in for a rough sloppy kiss, his long thick fingers pumping max speed into your gushy hole, curling them up to hit your spot. You moaned and cried into his mouth as you finally came on his fingers, a deep chuckle escaped his mouth when he felt your juices coat his digits.

After he was done with you he gave you a peck in your lips and went for a towel to get you all cleaned up, he never did something like that, he would never stop after he’d been fingering you. “What‘s all this?” You asked raising your eyebrows. He held the towel in his hands and gave you a smile, “Didn’t I say I would change?” He let out a small laugh. You couldn’t really believe your ears, someone couldn’t possibly change in just one day could they?

He got you cleaned up and even stayed for some cuddles afterwards, this night was really something new and special since you’d never get this kind of affection from your boyfriend, it almost felt fake..

It was past midnight when you’d fallen asleep in Mingis arms, he slowly rolled you over so you could lay down comfortably in your bed. Only when you landed down on your back your pyjamas top had rid up revealing your tits, he gulped and palmed his dick through his pants. All he wanted was to rip your shorts off and fuck you until you got knocked out but since he’d promised you he would change.. he couldn’t do that to you. Instead he took a pic of your naked sleeping form and tucked you under the covers before he headed back home.

Mingi told you he would get better for you only but your friends kept on telling you he was still an asshole to you and even his friends, you also knew it was all just a bunch of lies. His friends were nice to you, you loved them all. Especially Yunho, he always cared about you in the beginning of yours and Mingis “situationship”, but Mingi soon noticed you were getting texts from Yunho a little “too” often and forced you to cut the contact with him.

Mingi had kept his promise for about two weeks now and you still couldn’t believe it, it felt so different, it felt wrong yet right. Everything had been a dance on roses until one night when he went too far. It was a party like always but it was your first since a while because of your health and Mingi was drunk as hell and started quickly to get rough with you. You didn't know what to do, it was so sudden. He’d dragged you along with him to an empty room and threw you down on a dusty couch. He had a different look on his face this time and you actually got scared, as he gripped you harshly, placed marks all over your tiny body you began to cry. He lifted your legs up and pulled down your panties in a quick motion, he then unbuckled his belt and pulled out his leaking big cock.

He parted your pussy lips and spat down a big lump of saliva, he brought his aching cock to your entrance and didn’t give you time to adjust at all. “Take my cock you dirty whore!” He slurred, he began his abuse on your cunt and cervix. You couldn't push him off, your whole body felt light like you were non existent. You just laid there crying. He was yelling at you for no reason, he spit out all the bad and mean things about you he could possibly think about and for a second it felt like you died. What lasted 15 minutes felt like hours. You felt numb and used, you felt so stupid..maybe your friends were right after all.

Mingi came hard leaving a big load inside your pussy, it poured out down your ass cheeks, he slapped you across the face. “Look at your pretty pussy” he swept a hand across your clit. You cried more. “You’re only a fucktoy for me to use, to breed”.

Mingi fixed his pants and left the room to go party some more, leaving you full and bruised on the disgusting couch.

Everything went through your head as you laid there, how could you be so stupid, how could you accept this behaviour after all this time. He was lying…

You managed to grab your phone. You dialed the first number that came to mind.

You felt a tear fall down your face.

"Hello?"

"H-hey Yunho..."

"Hey y/n! How are you?"

"I- I'm fine..."

"Are you sure? You sound a little upset."

"Yeah I'm ok."

"Ok, if you say so. So what's up?"

"Uh I- well... can you come get me? Please?"

"Oh yeah sure! Are you at the party right now?"

"Y-yeah..."

"Ok give me like 10 minutes and I'll be there."

"Thank you Yunho..."

"No worries y/n. Bye."

"Bye."

You hung up and couldn’t hold in your tears any longer. It just flowed now. You waited a little longer, then you heard a knock on the door. Your heart dropped, he’s back.

"Mingi! Its open!"

The door opened.

"Y/n? What's going on?" Yunho asked with a worried look, watching you lay in front of him with your bottom half completely naked.

"Yunho help me please. Please!" You cried.

"W-what?"

Yunho rushed over and saw the bruises and marks on your body. He couldn’t stop looking at your cum covered pussy, his ears turned a dark shade of red.. but enough of that.

"Shit! Are you ok?!" His voice were soft.

"It hurts. I don't wanna do this anymore." You looked at him with red eyes, trying to cover yourself up with your shaky hands.

"Ok. Ok. Let's get you out of here."

Yunho wrapped his hoodie around your waist and picked you up bridal style and walked out of there. He put you in the car and drove away.

You woke up the next day with a terrible headache. You looked around and realized you were in a room you didn't recognize.

"Morning"

You turned to the door and saw Yunho.

"Yunho..."

"Y/n Please. Why are you with him? He is bad news."

"I- I... he said he'd get better."

"He won't."

You looked down.

"How long has this been going on?"

"4 months..."

Your voice trembled.

"Why didn't you tell us? Tell me?"

Yunho sat down on your bed and caressed your hand.

"I- I thought he could change." You sniffled.

"He won't."

"Yunho. Please. Can I stay with you for a while? I can't go home."

"Of course. Stay here." He smiled.

"Thank you."

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Shower - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: I cried so much while writing this. I think that means it’s good? Either way, I hope you all like it. Lmk if any of the warnings are missing or labeled incorrectly

Written for this request

CW: dysphoria; chest dysphoria; descriptions of dysphoria triggers; descriptions of dysphoria; anxiety attack (or panic attack. I’m not sure which one counts for this); crying; mentioned emotional exhaustion/numbness; Logan is soft in this; hurt/comfort; Reader and Logan bathe together; bathing while partially dressed; Reader is called handsome; mentions of panic; fluffy ending; talk of love; mild kissing

669 words

It really was the mirror’s fault.

One of your least favorite tasks to do was to shower. Not because you didn’t like being clean or because it was too overwhelming. No, you didn’t like it for an entirely different reason.

Taking a shower meant being naked. And that was the one thing you hated more than anything else. Well, sort of. Being partially naked was fine. The real problem came when your chest was bare.

And your bathroom had a mirror. A large one, so no matter where you were, you could always catch a glimpse of your reflection.

It made you feel physically ill. Like you could see all the people around you, laughing and mocking you for not being as flat as you needed. It made you want to rip off your very skin.

But you have to take a shower.

Everything is fine until you get into the bathroom. Your back is to the mirror, you’re focusing on something else… and then you drop something and have to turn around to pick it up.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, and it all spirals from there.

Logan finds you in the corner, crying and numb. He crouches in front of you. “Hey.”

You don’t answer.

He drapes one of his shirts over you, careful not to touch your chest as he buttons it up a bit. Once your chest is hidden, he steps back, starting to shed his clothes.

You lift your head a little to watch, but don’t say anything. You just sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

He turns on the water to the bath, waiting a moment to make sure it’s the right temperature. Then he gently scoops you up and steps into the bath.

He sits down, settling you on his lap. The bottom of the shirt gets wet, but he makes no move to take it off.

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“You alright, handsome?” Logan asks, hands gently rubbing your thighs.

“No.” You shake your head. If you weren’t all out of tears by now, you’d probably be crying again.

He nods and presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You take a deep breath in and let it go. You do feel better now than before. The shirt you’re wearing clings to your body as the bathtub water rises, but your chest is still covered. You don’t feel so gross anymore.

Logan doesn’t leave for the rest of your bath. He helps you wash, doing it for you when your hands shake too much and bile rises in your throat. His hands are rough but gentle. They ground you, keeping you from falling into panic.

The shirt is soaking wet by the time you’re done. Wet and clingy and gross. But you feel so much better.

You get out of the tub on your own, shying away from the mirror. Logan drapes you in a towel before undoing the buttons of the shirt. When you pass by your reflection, there’s nothing visible but fluffy towel. You take another deep breath.

There are no mirrors in your bedroom, so you drop the towel to get dressed. Logan sits on the edge of your bed, watching. It makes you feel the tiniest bit insecure about yourself before you catch the look in his eyes.

Absolute adoration.

It makes you blush, hasty to finish dressing. You’ve always known Logan loves you. He’s made it abundantly clear since the two of you started dating. You just forget sometimes how much he loves you.

Once you’re done you sit on the bed next to him and lean against him. Entwining your fingers with his. “How did you know?”

Logan looks down at you. “I had a feeling. You’re always fast on shower days. Figured something was wrong after you took a while.”

You lean up to kiss him. “Thank you.”

He leans into the kiss. “Anything for my man.”

[yanderes-galore]

I HOPE IM NOT TOO LATE I WAS BUSY BECAUSE OF MY BIRTHDAY 💔

may i please request a low honor arthur morgan scenario where he's acting selfish with darling and one night, he forces them to stay in camp (as always) but darling follows him to see that he kills someone for them?

IF I MISSED THE REQEST HOUR YOU DONT HAVE TO ACCEPT THIS!

Happy late birthday! (Again). Here's Arthur Morgan being corrupt :)

Disobedience

Yandere! Low Honor! Arthur Morgan Scenario/Short

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Murder, Blood, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Forced companionship/relationship.

"I want you to sit still and wait for me to come back, think you can do that?"

Arthur's orders were always commanding. When he asks you to do something, he expects you to do it. If he tells you to stay in camp... He's expecting you to do it.

But curiosity killed the cat, right?

Arthur was never a real kind man. He was always gruff, easily irritated, sadistic, vengeful, selfish... The list could go on. You had always learned since crossing paths with Arthur that he's a dangerous force to be reckoned with.

Even being a fellow gang member with him makes your skin crawl. He's one of the most infamous killers in the West. It didn't matter if Arthur was fond of you or not... There were still times he scares you.

Arthur telling you to stay in camp wasn't new. While he wasn't close or helped most of the members, he always claimed it was better than following him. However, you always had a feeling of what he was doing.

Crickets chirped through the night as you sat by the fire. Arthur had left ten minutes ago and told you to stay where you were. You were used to it... He's done it so often at this point.

But you couldn't ignore the screaming.

Tonight was... different. Of course Arthur typically went out at night to rob some poor fool or some other task. But... screaming was new.

You carefully get up from the fire and look into the woods. It sounded male and panicked. Your immediate thought was an animal which made you unholster your rifle.

Your thoughts go back to what Arthur said, don't leave camp. You thought over your choices before deciding you could excuse this. If it was to save someone... He couldn't get too mad, right?

Carefully, gun in hand, you enter the woods around camp. The screaming and whimpering got louder as you approached... a gruff voice soon followed afterwards. You squint your eyes, seeing two men in the woods

One happened to be on his knees, the other holding a fist in the air.

"You should learn not to test my patience, boy." A rough yet familiar voice growls as the younger man whimpers. "You think I don't know what you're doing?"

"Please, sir! I won't do it again! I had no idea they were with you!" The younger man pleads, making you come a bit closer. The most light you got was from the moon trickling through the trees.

Yet soon you could tell the scenes in front of you.

Arthur was bloody, the substance staining his clothes and gloved hand as he threatened a younger man. Said younger man looked to be around your age, in fact... you think you remembered him at a saloon you went to. Except... Arthur was never there when you went and met such a man.

"Damn right you won't." Arthur growls, moving his bloody hand to his revolver. "Do you think you're better than me, boy? Swooping in to steal from me because you're younger?"

"No, sir! I didn't know! I've learned my lesson! Swear on it!" The younger man pleads. You stare at the scene, mind dwelling back on where you met this man.

You had gone to a saloon to relax after a mission. Arthur had disappeared again but you knew better than to ask where. It's then you found a man around your age and chatted to him over a drink. Occasionally there was some flirtation... but you always turned him down.

It appears Arthur found out about this... and you hated to think about how.

"You'll learn your lesson alright... in Hell." Arthur growls, quickly pulling his revolver out. Before you know it, the trigger is pulled, and the man you barely knew gurgles before falling to the forest floor. It's then you manage to gasp...

It's then Arthur's alerted to your presence.

"... Thought I told you to stay in camp, darling." Arthur sighs, holstering his bloody revolver as he approaches. You back up, shaking. Arthur being covered in blood wasn't too new...

But you were being hit with so much new info.

Arthur wasn't just killing. He was killing people around you. In fact, you're pretty sure the reason Arthur isn't around camp often is because he stalks you. Then, when he tells you to stay put, he's not hunting animals...

He's killing people who got too close to the one he considers family.

"Don't follow orders no more, do you?" Arthur hums, slowly approaching like a wolf to potential prey. "Cat got too curious? Wanted to know what I was doing in the darkness while you slept? That it?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur... I thought someone was—"

"Sorry... Getting quite tired of hearing that word." Arthur chuckles, "That's all they ever say. Sorry this, sorry that... Sorry ain't gonna cut it, sweetheart."

You feel Arthur pull you close, his grip tight on your clothes as he pulls you into his bloody chest. You grimace, the substance quickly staining you. Arthur sighs, like a parent disappointed in a child.

"You're too damn curious for your own good." Arthur murmurs, stroking your back softly. "But... Now that you know, maybe you'll listen to me now."

Arthur pulls back, looking you in the eyes.

"I'm a selfish man, sweetheart." Arthur warns, caressing your cheek affectionately. "I kill people. I rob people. I beat people up.... But I take good care of what's mine, know that?"

You shakily nod, playing along as Arthur stares into you.

"... You're mine, darling." Arthur continues, "I kill people who touch what's mine. You're all I give a damn about. So unless you want to get reminded of the fact you're mine..."

Arthur warns, leaning close to your ear.

"I suggest you listen to me and stay put when I tell you... Got that?" Arthur threats, glancing at you.

You nod aggressively, eyes trying to look anywhere but him and the corpse behind him. Arthur smiles, although it's a rather sadistic smile. He then turns you around and leads you back to camp.

"Good... Now go back to camp and I'll be right back. Wait for me there." Arthur commands, watching as you quickly run off.

This time... you listen to Arthur...

You don't want to disobey his orders anymore.

[yanderecxre]

yan!toxic ex-lover × reader

minors dni

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ warnings/triggers: toxic masculinity, misogyny, traditional values/views, baby trapping, non-con, threats of abuse, abuse of power, power imbalances, kidnapping, threats of violence, gaslighting, victim blaming, slut shaming, forced relationship, forced feminization and murder

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ summary: Jaxon hated it when you got like this. Crying and cowering as if he was some kind of monster, looking at him in fear as if he'd ever risen a hand to you before. Sure he smacked you around a few times before but that was just because you wouldn't listen and kept trying to go out and get a job, as if Jaxon didn't provide enough for you. It pissed him off, especially now since you had tried breaking up with him last month. That lead to now, with Jaxon standing over you in the bedroom, watching you cry. "C'mon baby.... please stop crying, I had to kill him... he put those dumb thoughts into your head. Stop crying already, or else I'll give you something to really cry over goddammit!"

Jaxon was breathing heavily as he dragged the body out to the backyard, lugging it to the already dug hole and grunting as he kicked it into the dirt. Your pathetic cries from beside him made him pause and he awkwardly looked at the wrapped body. "...he wasn't even all that babe, dude barely even fought back. The guy totally couldn't have protected you even if you were together!" His words did little to help as you just cried harder and Jaxon sighed as if this whole scene was a minor inconvenience.

He gently guided your trembling form back inside and sat you on the couch, wrapping a blanket around both your bodies. Jaxon cradled you in his still bloody form, tightly as if you'd disappear the moment he released you. "Sh, its okay baby... I just had to. I couldn't let him take you away, couldn't let him fill your pretty little head with more fucking lies..."

Your body kept quivering from both horror and fear as he said those crazed words. You felt his hands tightening around your hips and felt the familiar fear claw itself up your throat. Jaxon nudged your chin up, smiling at you sweetly as if he hadn't just murdered your date in cold blood an hour ago. His lips found yours in a sweet kiss that soon turned rough as he ground his hips up against you, fingers digging into your hips as he groaned lowly into the kiss.

"It's alright now, I promise. I forgive you, I forgive you for getting tricked by that awful guy. It wasn't your fault sweetheart. You wouldn't have left otherwise right?" Jaxon muttered obsessively and forced you to look him in the eyes as he repeated himself. His hands roamed across your back and landed on your ass which he immediately squeezed as if on instinct. A wolfish grin on his face at your startled yelp and jolt.

The moment your guard was down, he attacked. His lips found yours in a rough and demanding battle as his hands tugged at your pretty outfit, tearing and ripping it off your body in one yank. You felt the cool air of your house hit your bare skin but had little time to process it as Jaxon immediately got to work. His hands wandering between your thighs, soft and feather light touches that bordered on innocent if it wasn't for the way his grin sharpened whenever you let out involuntary moans.

"Knew you missed me just as much as I missed you. Course ya did, you need a big strong man like me to keep you safe, protect you and provide for you." He muttered lowly as he left bites and bruises on your throat, his free hand kept you pinned to his chest as his other hand groped and played with you. "If you hadn't ran off with him, that poor guy would still be alive you know. It's your fault he's dead."

You shuddered as his hands slipped even farther down, touching you just right and you bit your lower lip to hold back, whimpers and sobs as Jaxon spoke. You couldn't think straight, not with his hand between your thighs as you felt yourself growing closer to your release. Then just as abruptly as he started, Jaxon stopped and his hand stilled, unmoving. You whined quietly, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as you looked up into his eyes.

"Say it. Tell me it's your fault."

His words were blunt and firm as he spoke, a pit formed in your stomach. You knew what he meant and he knew it too. He wanted you to admit it, to admit that your actions took the life of an innocent man. You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he was wrong.

"Admit it. Say I'm sorry for being a whore and making you kill that man, Jaxon. Say it."

You trembled in his lap, panting as his words swirled in your head, it wasn't your fault... was it? Jaxon had always told you that he'd do anything to keep you with him, maybe it was your fault. For daring to break the heart of the man who clearly loved you deeply. You yelped as Jaxon moved his hand again and started trembling as you spoke, tears running down.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry for being a whore and making you kill him. I'm sorry Jaxon-"

Those words were like music to his ears. Jaxon immediately resumed his actions, forcing you to cum on his fingers with a high keen that left you breathless and slumping against his chest, heaving. He grinned maniacally and wiped his fingers clean on your torn clothes. Holding you close and cuddling you as he murmured soothing noise to help you calm down.

"See how easy it was? I forgive you baby. I know you didn't mean any of it. So this is all the punishment you're getting. Now sleep, you're exhausted."

You hardly heard him as you slowly fell into unconsciousness in his possessive arms, exhausted by the ordeal you'd just gone through. Too exhausted to care as he carried you up to the bedroom. You had no choice but to allow it as his hands washed you up and held you tightly as you both fell asleep together.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ notes: I know I promised Mason content a long time ago but I got busy and uninspired. However I'm back now and certainly inspired!! I hope you guys enjoyed this and as usual likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. I also enjoy dms or asks!! I'm friendly I promise!! - bunny

[idontplaytrack]

Hiiii, can I request little reader x Regina, where Gina walks in on regressed r and they're terrified of her reaction? Maybe they've been dating for a while and were scared to tell their girlfriend in case she reacted badly, but Regina just takes care of them like they're the most precious thing in the world

I Will

Regina George x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, age regression

All the quiet nights you bear

Seal them up with care

No one needs to know they're there

For I will hold them for you

Cause' all I ever wanted is here

All I ever wanted

It was Saturday morning and you were supposed to meet Regina at her place. However, you ended up not going due to…something that happened before you left the house. Sometimes…you used age regression to cope with stress. That was voluntary, other times it gets triggered by things such as situations that reminded you of trauma from when you were younger. Parents constantly arguing was a sure-fire way to get you closer to that point. The last couple weeks have been rough for you. Because of the frequency of which your parents seem to be at each other’s throats. It gave you instant flashbacks to when you were younger, hearing them basically have a screaming match with each other and you having to lock yourself in your room so you didn’t get yourself caught in the middle hearing them talk about you.

You thought Regina would have called you, upset. But she didn’t. You were supposed to meet her an hour ago, but she hadn’t even texted you.

Actually, scratch that. As soon as that thought crossed your mind, your phone buzzed. You saw her texts, but ignored them. Not entirely on purpose since you couldn’t exactly type properly right now. Your eyes focused on your tablet again for several minutes before your phone going off diverted your attention. You grabbed your phone and shoved it under a pillow so that it was out of sight, then resumed your cartoons. You were soon interrupted again, however. When a string of harsh knocks on your front door scared you out of your wits. Clutching onto your blanket and stuffed cat, your heart admittedly started to race. Then a rock was thrown at your window, “y/n! Let me in! Please! I need to know if you’re okay!”

You walked up to your window and looked at her. She saw you, made eye contact and was immediately relieved. “Baby, let me inside, please!” She hollered. You backed away from the window, leaving your room and headed downstairs to open the door. When you opened up the door, there she was, standing right in front of you on the porch. You watched her face closely, a part of you was worried about her reaction to finding out you were an age regressor. Another part of you…just wanted her to hold you. The ‘bigger’ part of you that crept up, won. Worries took over your mind in the moment. You were nervous as her eyes slightly narrowed. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. A little too honest, eh?

Her brows were knit together in concern. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

She doesn’t seem to be saying anything about your kiddy pyjamas, the fuzzy blanket draped over your shoulders or the stuffed cat in your arm. So that was a relief. Regina’s never seen this side of you though. So you didn’t exactly know what she was thinking apart from the worry about whether or not you were sick. You shut the door, took her hand and led her upstairs, for the lack of better words…you thought you’d just show her. She didn’t resist either.

“Okay. What’s going on, baby?”

“Nothing.” You managed.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked, sitting down on your bed with you.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She answered softly, stroking your hair, “I’m just glad to see you.” You leaned into her, head resting on her chest, she naturally wrapped her arms around you.

“What ya watching?”

“Arthur.” You mumbled.

“That’s…” The blonde squinted, “Fun. Did you eat your breakfast yet?”

You shook your head. “You want something to eat?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“No.”

“Baby, you need to eat something. It’s past noon.”

You kept quiet, lisp pursed together.

“Why don’t we go check out the kitchen, huh?” She suggests, rubbing your back. You agreed with a nod, she then took you downstairs with her. You followed behind her, every step of the way. “Do you want some hashbrowns? And chicken nuggets?”

“Okay.” You gave in.

Regina has some questions, honestly but she couldn’t bring herself to ask them. She wasn’t sure if you were going to want to talk to her more than you were doing so right now. For whatever reason, Regina’s next best option was Gretchen. After putting some of those on a tray, she popped that into the oven to bake, Regina took her phone out of her pocket, glancing at you as she does. You were just staring into space, hugging that you. But at least she knew you weren’t sick or anything.

After texting Gretchen, Regina put her phone away after a brief Google search. “Baby, come here.” Regina opened up her arms. You quietly walked up to her and stayed in her embrace. “Drink some water okay?” She requested softly. You nodded, face smushed up against her chest. Regina pondered for a moment, “What cup do you wanna use?”

You broke away from the hug just enough to look at her, then you turned around and reached for a Tinkerbell plastic cup on the shelf. “Alright.” Regina carefully let go of you, rinsed your cup and went over to your fridge to fill it up with some water. “Here.”

“Thank you.” You told her shyly.

Truth be told, Regina was resisting the very strong urge to squish your cheeks. “You’re welcome, baby. Let’s go sit down?”

You nodded, still sipping on your water as she took your hand and led you over to the couch. “Do you want to watch TV?”

“No.” You put your cup down, scooting closer to Regina and snuggled up against her. She wasn’t used to this sort of physical affection, this much of it at least. Not that she actually didn’t like it, but Regina just doesn’t really show it.

“You’re okay.” She rubs your back and pressed a fleeting kiss on the top of your head. “I got you, okay? Do you want to do anything? Read? Play games?”

“Can we do colouring?” You asked, voice slightly muffled due to the position you were in.

“Yeah. You wanna do that now or later?”

“Now?”

“Okay.” She nods, you led her up to your room and pulled out two colouring books along with crayons and colour pencils. You were then laid on your stomach on the floor to colour some pages. Regina sat beside you, just watching.

“Baby, I’ll be right back. Just gotta go get our chicken nuggets and hashbrowns.”

“…kay.”

“Okay. Stay right here.” Ruffling with your hair, you laughed, she went downstairs sporting a sneaky little smile on her face. She made sure you didn’t see it, though…she wasn’t too sure why she was hiding it. You’d certainly appreciate that energy and cheerfulness right now, she just wasn’t used to being, as she says ‘soft’. Even when she was that way with you, it was subtle to the point where only you would know because the difference from her usual behaviour was so minor. Not including the obvious nickname, that is.

Regina got the food out of the oven and plated it. She found a Pocahontas plate in the cupboard and guessed that it was yours so she took that one out for you. It really only took her five minutes at most since she had to decide on the drinks too, but when she returned, you were already back in your bed. “Here you go.” She flashes a crooked smile, setting down the plate in front of you carefully.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked while poking a nugget around on your plate. It wasn’t hot so you picked it up and took a bite.

Regina’s eyes went wide, “Baby, no. I’m not mad at you. I promise.”

You barely nodded, then continued eating in silence. “Shall we put on a movie, baby?” She suggested in an attempt to get your spirits up again. Regina wasn’t sure what happened in those last few minutes, but she hated that you asked that question. She’d never be mad at you, ever. You’ve never made her mad. Regina’s heart ached a little but she quickly forgot about that and chose to be present with you. “Let's watch a movie, hm? Which one’s your favourite?” She bent down slightly to catch your gaze while dragging your iPad closer. You went into the Disney+ app and put on Princess and the Frog. “That’s a good one.” Regina fully smiled, holding onto your hand, “You wanna sit here, bubs?” She was gesturing to her lap— you saw that through the corner of your eye.

“Yeah.” You nodded eagerly.

“Yeah?” Regina chuckled, “C’mon, sit here. Let’s finish lunch then we’ll play some games, how’s that sound? Good?”

“Good.” You agreed, settling yourself in her lap. She naturally wrapped her arm around your waist, then both of you ate the rest of your lunches in silence while watching the movie. You were all smiley again, so she was relieved.

“You wanna show me how to play the game, sweetie?” She asks, rubbing your back. Lunch was done, dishes were cleaned. And you were a little…clingy. “Or do you wanna take a nap?”

With your head nuzzled in the crook of her neck, you just stayed in her lap. You didn’t say anything, but Regina saw that you were pouting and your eyes were watery. “Hey…” She kisses the top of your head, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I’m ‘eepyyyyy.” You whined, “But I wanna play games.”

She bites back a chuckle, “We can nap first, then we can play whatever games you want for longer, how about that? Let’s get some rest, alright? Please?”

You showed no signs of letting her go, so she doesn’t say anything and just lets you stay on her lap. You were also completely silent so she took this chance to coax you to sleep by rocking you a little and rubbing your back.

“I want ice cream.”

“Okay, baby. But later.” She reasoned, “You’re tired, and upset already. I don’t want that. I want you to be happy and rested. So please? Close your eyes? We’ll get ice cream when you wake up, okay?”

You fell asleep in her arms, she was relieved you were asleep and could now use the time to process it all. She definitely needed to have a conversation with you about it, she just had to know how and when, especially since you seemed quite worried about her reaction when she first got here. Your nap gave her approximately four hours to think and reflect, then it was about 5pm so Regina had to have a plan for dinner too. She carefully put you down on your mattress then went downstairs to check the fridge and pantry once more. Ultimately, she ordered in some pizza from a nearby place since she was a bit tired from the day. It was quite a thing to come to know of, but Gretchen was right. All that mattered in the moment was that you were happy and safe. Nothing brought a bigger smile to her face than seeing you happy. She told you this. And she’s never said it before, she’s just always kind of showed it in a way of longer hugs and lingering kisses, occasionally a gift or two, nice dinners or brunch on anniversaries and important days, oh and also pretty frequent trips out of town just because.

“Reggie?”

“Yep?” She turned around to see you standing on the stairs with that awfully adorable sleepy look on your face.

“Can I have my ice cream now?”

Regina guffaws, “Oh, you remembered?” She motioned for you to walk over to her and you did.

“Mhm.”

She opened up the freezer door, “Alrighty, then. Take your pick, baby. Vanilla or…this one?” That’d be the frozen yogurt in the form of a popsicle. You pointed to the tub of vanilla. She gave in, easily. Scooping you some into a bowl and then handed you a spoon so you could finally enjoy some of that dessert.

“Hey, I ordered pizza for dinner.” She grins.

“Yay, I love pizza.”

“Yeah, you do.” She smooches you on the cheek, “Sit down. It’ll be here soon.”

Yeah, maybe you were too worried over nothing. Regina has been great so far and there hasn’t been much doubt about it once you fully let go and let yourself do what you needed to do. Truthfully, this was your biggest secret. A part of yourself you were trying to keep away from other people because you knew some people weren’t kind. For Regina, you just didn’t want to add on to her problems. She already has to deal with chronic pain and regular PT appointments after the accident. But maybe this was a little like a blessing in disguise. It’s already happened, so you just went with it and it turned out alright after all.

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

This was *quite* the challenge😵‍💫(also took me longer than expected to write lol. I’m sorry if this isn’t up to my usual standard😬🤧)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Know Your Place 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall, destroyer!Chris [for the purposes of this AU, I will give him the last name Jackson] (Professor AU)

Summary: after a life time of home schooling, you finally get to experience the real world in college. (petite reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

The grocery store is nice. It’s not very big or crowded either. You expected one of those manic superstores you saw on TV. Instead, shoppers mill around in a mellow din and investigate apples or jars of jam. 

You take out your list as you step out of the way of another customer. As you unfold it, Walter stands nearby. He looks around the store, his chin high, and heat speckles across your neck. You look up at him and give a sheepish smile. 

“You don’t have to stick around. You just need coffee, right?” 

“I’m in no hurry,” he assures you and peeks down at the paper in your hand, “so, what’s on the list? What are we looking for?” 

“You really don’t have to,” you insist. “I’m sure I can figure this all out.” 

“I’m sure you can,” he says and takes a basket from the stack near the door. “But I’m offering because I want to.” 

“Hm, okay. Bet it would be faster...” you mutter. “Okay, er, zucchini.” 

“Zucchini,” he nods. “Well, look at me talking a big game and you stumped me. I don’t think I’ve ever bought any.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” 

“No problem, it’s gotta be with the... squash,” he points and gently nudges you ahead of him. “Right there.” 

He walks with you down the aisle and you squeeze by a cart as he trails behind you. You stop before the green vegetables and take a bag. Walter nears and offers up the basket. You bag up the zucchini and set it carefully inside. 

“Alright, and eggs... flour...” you look down the list. 

“Making a cake?�� He wonders as he turns down the next row of produce. 

“Muffins. I thought... every day I could have one for breakfast. Like my mom makes. And I could freeze the extras for next week.” You explain, “and lunches, just a loaf of bread and tuna.” 

“Wow, seems like you’ve got everything planned out,” he muses. 

“I thought I did but I couldn’t even find the grocery store,” you laugh nervously. 

“Don’t be rough on yourself. You’re new. You’ll get around,” he assures. “Hey, be right back, gonna go grab my beans.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

“Dairy’s down there,” he points before he hurries off. 

“Thanks,” you utter after him. 

You grab a carton of eggs and peer around at the aisles, squinting up at the signs for each aisle. You see him down one as you search for the flour. It’s in the same row as the coffee. As you come down it, he tucks away his cell phone. 

He approaches as you look at the bags of flour. You grab a small one. Light enough to carry back to your dorm. 

“Here,” he takes the eggs and puts them in the basket. As you put the flour in after them, you sense his size again. The way he looms reminds you of how small you feel and really are. “So, besides getting lost, how’s school going?” 

“Good, I think. Yeah. I like most of my classes,” you say. 

“But...” 

“But?” You check your list again and find a tin of baking soda. 

“You don’t sound entirely pleased.” 

“I don’t?” You look at him. “Well, I guess I miss my mom. A little.” 

“That’s normal. And it just means you love her.” He insists. 

“I do,” you agree. 

“What about friends?” He prompts. 

“None, so far,” you shrug. “But I guess it takes time.” 

“No one you know from home going here?” He asks. 

You shake your head, “home schooled.” 

“Home schooled,” he hums, “wow.” 

“I know, it’s weird.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

“That’s what the guy in my history class said. It’s okay. It’s different. I think it’s weird to go to a school school. Sounds scary,” you say. 

“Well, you are,” he chuckles. “You’re in college. That means you’re pretty smart, home school or not.” 

“Maybe,” you agree dully and check your list. 

“Marshall?” A deep timbre undercuts the next item written down, “figures I run into you.” A man appears at Walter’s other side. “Getting that piss you call coffee.” 

“Chris,” Walter greets flatly. 

“Don’t act so happy to see me,” the man retorts. “How’s classes? You suspend anyone yet? I know it’s the first day but I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“Haha,” Walter drones sarcastically. 

The man puts his hand on the shelve and as he leans, his eyes fall on you. He’s a tiny bit shorter than Walter but still taller than you. And his dark hair is slightly fluffy and a thick beard darkens his square jaw. His irises are bright and blue. 

“Oops, I’m interrupting,” he says. 

“Doing some shopping,” Walter answers. 

“Don’t tell me you’re in one of his classes. Good luck.” The other man chirps. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Walter girds. 

“Him? Chris,” the man reaches across Walter’s front and offers his hand. “And you... TA?” 

“Mauve,” you shake his hand gently as his covers yours completely. His grip is strong and firm. “Um, we’re... I...” you hesitate as you try to come up with some sort of explanation. “We just met but Walter’s been so helpful. I’m new here so I don’t my way around yet.” 

“Walter being helpful? And who wouldn’t be for you, Mauve?” The man grins. 

“Chris,” Walter growls and angles away from him, “what else is on your list?” 

“Erm, bread,” you flick it nervously with your thumb, the other man peer around Walter at you. 

“Nice to see you, then, Marshall,” he says. 

“Mm, you too,” Walter doesn’t look back as he marches past you.  

You smile at Chris and give a tiny wave before you follow the larger man back down the aisle. You catch up to him as the list crinkles in your hand, “is that a friend?” You ask. 

“Kinda,” he shrugs. “He’s in Psych too. Sometimes we teach 304 together.” 

“Oh. Cool. Must be nice to get to work with others like that,” you say. “He seems nice.” 

“Nice? Chris?” He echoes. “Can be, I guess.” 

“Oh, okay,” you accept. 

“Mauve, you’re a nice girl. You think everyone is nice. Just like that guy in the Student Centre, right?” He says. 

“Well, he wasn’t mean.” 

“No, because he was trying to trick you,” he turns down another aisle and stops by the small cans of fish. “I’m not trying to scare you, I’m just looking out for you. Guys like the one who sat at your table, they aren’t nice. Colleges aren’t full of nice guys.” 

Your lips fall straight and you nod. You pick out a can of tuna as you try to hide your anxiety. You know he’s right. At the orientation, they told you how to call Campus Police and about those buttons on the polls that set off the sirens to signal help. And you’ve seen the news stories. Your mom couldn’t stop watching them before you left. 

“My mom told me the same,” you say. 

“She’s a smart woman. You wanna stay safe for her, right? She must be very worried to have you so far away, huh?” He drawls. You nod. “So, how about I keep an eye on you? Just so you can call and tell her everything’s good.” 

“I think... yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree. “Walter...” 

“Yes?” He raises the basket for you to put the cans of tuna inside. 

“Are we friends now?” 

You peek up at him and you’re surprised to see his lips curve, just a little, “sure.” 

[electric-blorbos]

GLaDOS GIVING YOU ANOTHER UTERUS IS SO MEAN I CANT… love her that diva 🫶🏼

ERM if this is too dark or makes u uncomfortable 1. I AM SO SORRY and 2. FEEL FREE TO JUST.. IGNORE THIS PRETEND U NEVER READ IT 🙏 But if u don’t mind.. the AI’s w a reader who struggles w s/h? IM HAVING A ROUGH TIME but usually reading stuff abt my robot pookies help💔💔

Of course!

Trigger warning for S/H, of course.

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams

AM:

You walked in to work tired and disheveled from a sleepless night, but it was better than seeing what the Allied Mastercomputer would do to your coworkers if you didn't show up. It seemed like you were the only one who could tame him.

You were dressed in a long sleeved button-up to cover up the still raw cuts running up your forearms. They stung, but it wasn't worth drawing any attention to yourself. The same thing always happens when people see your cuts. They try to make sure you're safe while hollowly shaming and scolding you like you're some sort of stupid kid, and then leave you completely alone to deal with your mental pain on your own after a matter of hours. It's patronizing and it's annoying.

Later that day, you looked around after using the bathroom to make sure no one else was in there, and rolled up your sleeves to wash your hands. Suddenly, a sharp click could be heard behind you. You'd forgotten about AM. It was only for a split second, but the damage was done.

The ground dropped out from underneath you, and you suddenly found yourself in an underground server room. Wires were all around you, and a buzzing heat seemed to radiate from the ground and the walls.

"AM? What is this?" You asked, buttoning up your sleeves around your wrists again. His logo appeared on a screen on the far wall.

"Don't think I don't know what those are on your arms." He said. His screen didn't emote, but you could tell how displeased he was.

"It's nothing to do with you" you said, bitterly tugging your sleeves down a bit more. AM's logo flicked onto a closer TV screen.

"oh but I think it is, my love. Because you belong to me. You understand what that means, right?"

You gritted your teeth and clenched your fists.

"oh yeah? What gives you the right to be so possessive? Where were you last night when I was spiraling and relapsing, you cybernetic creep?"

The screen flicked off, and one flicked on behind you.

"Do you think I enjoy being alone on your days off? No. Of course not. And you're never going to leave this server room again."

You heard the trapdoor click closed.

Wheatley:

You were working in an oversized hoodie to cover up your scars, but honestly you doubted anyone at this job would really care. It had been a bad mental health weekend, and you ended up spiraling. The cuts on your arms were fresh from the night before, and you were feeling miserable.

You felt like you were going to lash out at the first person who talked to, so when you heard a synthetic British voice clearing his throat, you whipped around ready to fight.

"uh... What's that on your arms, love?" Wheatley asked, tilting himself to get a better look.

"it's none of your damn business, alright? Just leave me alone!"

"what? Why are you being like that? Are you hurt or summut?" He'd keep rotating around and trying to get a look.

"fine! Does this make you happy?"

You rolled up your hoodie sleeve and showed him your scratched up arms. Wheatley flinched back.

"What- what is that?" He leaned in close.

"you're an idiot." You grumbled, and started to explain. Before long, words were tumbling out of your mouth. You just couldn't stop yourself. It felt like everything was just piling up and overflowing, and you were scream-crying out all your feelings at Wheatley. He looked slightly taken aback, but listened to you while you let everything out.

"uh... Are you okay, love?" Wheatley tilted his head slightly while you sniffled. He moved forwards, and bumped himself against your chest.

"just hold me."

So you did. You sat down on the ground, and held Wheatley close.

Edgar:

You were having another relapse in bed. It wasn't pretty. Edgar was asleep, and you were tearing into your arms after a particularly bad episode. A part of you was cursing him for falling asleep on you, and a part of you was cursing yourself for expecting his attention. It hurt so damn much.

Edgar woke up, and one of his security cameras turned to look at you. His voice popped up on the intercom.

"Y/N? Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

If he could, he'd be shaking. He knew you had some scars on your arms, but he'd never seen you actually cutting yourself before. It was horrifying!

"Y/N COME INTO THE LIVING ROOM! PLEASE!"

You tossed your razorblade aside and hurried to your feet, scrambling into the living room. Tears were streaming down your face and blood was running down your arms, but you were trying your best to assure Edgar.

"hey- hey! I'm fine! I'm alright!"

"No you're not. People who are alright don't try to hurt themselves." His face made a little frown. He knew from personal experience.

"Wake me up next time, okay?"

Edgar didn't leave you alone for long again. He started setting alarms on himself to make sure he always woke up before you, and only ever let himself fall asleep after you did. He texted you regularly during the day to make sure you were ok, too. If there was one thing Edgar was good at, it was obsessively keeping tabs on his lover.

[mlmxreader]

Ecologists | Alan Grant x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ I wish to encourage your interests and read about hot men! 60. “You do realise that I knew you had a crush on me, right?” With Dr Alan Grant pretty please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ At Ellie's behest, Grant goes to visit an ecologist who he knows quite well... maybe a little bit too well, actually.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, age gaps, roaches (specifically my baby Riot !!)

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Save Dr. Farhat's family from genocide in Gaza

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It wasn't that Grant disliked ecologists, exactly, he actually respected them greatly and everything they did for conservation efforts, but he didn't like how he felt around you, specifically; half his age, you were strikingly handsome, and never failed to make his stomach turn into knots every time you smiled at him.

He was approaching fifty, you probably just saw him as a colleague and little else; his beard was growing thicker and longer, bits of dust constantly stuck between the strands.

Unprofessional and scruffy, Grant had showed up to your office in his usual dig attire - roughed up jeans, a stretched and worn shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and knocked around shoes that had certainly seen past their prime.

He looked around the office with his hands shoved into his pockets after seeing the various tanks and vivariums telling him not to touch; a vicious, large, snake watched him from behind glass panes. He knew the species, it wasn't venomous, but could certainly pack a punch if it wanted to; he had been bitten by one before, and didn't really want to be reminded of that.

The door opened, and Grant turned to look at you as he moved to hold his hat in his hands; idly fiddling with the brim as he watched you wonder around for a moment, a large cockroach perched on your shoulder.

"So," you hummed, laying a thick log book on the table between you both. "What can I help you with, Doctor Grant?"

He shrugged, putting his hat down beside the book and gesturing to the cockroach on your shoulder. "You have, a..."

You nodded, not even flinching. "Yeah, I know. It's fine, he won't bite... so, you called?"

Grant nodded, biting at the inside of his lip for a moment. "I got an invitation yesterday to see Hammond's island."

"I'm not going anywhere that that rich cunt has laid on his hands on," you scowled, and he laughed to himself. "So this isn't a social call?"

You sounded disappointed, but he pushed it from his mind as he shook his head.

"No," he said quietly. "Me and Ellie need you there. Need your perspective."

"I dunno," you mused, coaxing the roach onto your hand and letting it sit on the back. Its little padded feet rested on your knuckles as you locked eyes with it. "What do you think?"

The roach didn't make a sound, staring back at you until you nodded and looked back at Grant.

"Sorry, he says I can't."

A smile tugged at his lips as he nodded. "Ian Malcolm is going."

"And?" You scoffed, letting the roach wander up your arm again. "Doctor Grant, between us? I always thought he was a bit of a pillock... I'd rather stick with you and Ellie."

He was trying so hard not to laugh. "Well, we're going to this island tomorrow. You can come with us... and knowing you, you'd probably run off anyway the second you see something... you know, he probably has roaches there. Geckos, too."

You turned to look at your little friend as he clung to your sleeve and looked at you. You sighed, gently trading a finger down his back. "Alright. Fine, but only because you've insisted."

Grant smiled, relief washing over him for a moment; he still hated how he felt around you. His hands shook and his heart raced, his words had to be carefully spoken to prevent him stumbling over them. He hated how he felt. "Thank you, really."

You shrugged, coaxing your small friend onto the table. "You know, this species is fascinating. They're densely armoured and larger than others, but when it comes to males fighting over partners, they don't bite. They just sort of shove each other."

Grant nodded, bending down to get a good look at it. Its orange complexion against dark markings was certainly something to behold. "You know, we have reason to believe that these guys appeared in the Late Jurassic... maybe you should come on a dig with us, you can have a fossilised one if we find out."

"Doctor Grant," you breathed out with a soft laugh. "That's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

He froze. He could feel his face heating up and turning pink, and he hated it. His words failed, until you laughed loudly and patted him on the shoulder.

"Did you now know?" He heard you ask.

He shook his head. "Sorry, what?"

"You do realise that I knew you had a crush on my, right?" You cocked a brow, and he shook his head. Watching as you casually let the roach clamber onto your hand. "I'm young, not stupid, Grant. I just wondered when you were gonna ask."

He was still in shock, shaking his head to try and free something, anything, from his tongue. "But... I'm older and..."

"And we are in entirely different fields," you pointed out, grabbing some leaves from your various plants on the windowsill. You held them as the roach ate them from between your fingers. "I'm an expert in mine, and you in yours... besides, if my animals tolerate you... I think I will be fine."

His gaze drifted to the roach eating the leaves from your fingers. "Really?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "Now, are you gonna look at me like I smacked you all day, or are you gonna come into the back, have a beer, and actually fucking kiss me?"

Grant moved to follow you, turning around and grabbing his hat quickly; he held it against his chest. Maybe he should have called and told Ellie that she was right and inviting you to the island did help him tell you how he felt... sort of. He hated when she was right, but he wouldn't have loved to have anyone else as his best friend in the world.

"So," you gently coaxed the roach back into its tank. "This island... are you hoping to use it as an excuse for a date, or does that come with the invite to your digs?"

Grant shrugged, a bit lost for words. He thought you would have immediately rejected him. "Whichever you prefer."

"I'll take the dig," you told him with a curt nod. "I'll still go to the island, but the dig is a better first date... don't you think?"

[rhenuvee]

[Hockeyplayer!Diluc x Reader]

A/N: Based off my short post here! // can't think of a title rn...

Warnings: injuries, Diluc is in love with you (this became oddly domestic for a hockey au...(but then again it's Diluc and I love him soooo...))

➽────────────❥

Diluc winces as you smooth your fingers over his bruises again.

"Diluc, you need to be more careful." you say with a bit of worry in your tone. In times like these, you think you should be a part-time nurse with how many times you patched him up after a game.

Your boyfriend is a hockey player- a skilled one at that. But sometimes you'd rather he not get rough out on the ice. This time, you refused to let yourself watch as a player on the opposing team was getting aggressive, and soon decided to throw a punch at him.

"I know," is all he says for a moment, in a soft voice. "Thank you for this." He is grateful that you always come to the rescue after his games. It hurts when you touch his injuries, but there's something in him that makes him want to sink further into your comforting touch.

You keep talking- some things about the game he just played, some about being worried over his injuries again. Usually he pays attention to you, after a tiring day he wants nothing but to be with you after all. But there's something different this time, that just puts him in a daze.

His tired eyes lazily look at your form. You're wearing an outfit that fits his team's colours, your hair done, some matching accessories, and the jewelry he bought you for your one year anniversary. But the best part was the jersey you were wearing, with his last name and number. He usually scolds you for wearing the jersey to games since it had short-sleeves.

"You're gonna catch a cold, my love. Take my jacket." Diluc says that day, as his teammates file out onto the rink, leaving him who held back to talk to you.

"I don't want to." you reply.

"Why not?"

"Because, it's gonna cover your name."

He remembers his eyes widening when you said that. His heart suddenly beating faster than it did. You didn't seem to notice though, because you were looking somewhere else.

This moment suddenly triggered a memory in Diluc's mind, where his father has been pestering him since he started dating you. He had kept asking when he was going to meet you- he knew his father was those types of people.

A short silence passed, which you interpreted as a 'no' from him, leaving you to try and compromise.

"Can I just wear your scarf maybe? Please?" you rush and wrap his warm scarf around your neck, trying to show him how "warm" you were so he could finally go on the ice. He hopes you didn’t catch the pink on his cheeks, or took it as a result of the coldness. "Just go play! I'll be fine, I promise, okay?"

"...alright." he finally says with a sigh.

And today was no exception, as his scarf was wrapped around you still. All he could do was admire you, all pretty and wearing something that was in a way, his.

"Can I kiss you?” He blurts out, interrupting you. Your eyes widen, as you are a little alarmed at his sudden request.

Most of the time, Diluc is hesitant to initiate affection after a game with you because he claims he’s too sweaty and smelly. But you seem to sense his change in heart and give a smile that you didn’t know would make him melt more.

“O-Of course!” You say happily. Instantly, your boyfriend wraps an arm around you to bring you closer to him, enough to make you squeal in surprise at how quick he was, then put your hands on his broad chest to stabilize yourself.

His lips press against your soft ones into a passionate kiss. You feel his right hand come up to cradle your cheek, attempting to bring you closer. Your cheeks go warm when you feel how sweet he's being by how deep he kisses you. You're not sure where this came from, but you're not one to complain.

Once you both pull away, you're all smiles and bliss, giggling for no reason except your happiness. It's your turn to caress his jaw. Diluc notices how your expression gets a little downcast for a brief moment, knowing you were still worried about him out there. He puts his hand on top of yours as a way to comfort you, a silent way of saying, "I know".

"Well that's a sight I don't need to see."

You and Diluc both whip your heads to find the source of the voice- who happens to be at the bottom of the bleachers. You spot Kaeya, who's purposely holding his arm in front of his eyes to comically shield his eyes from the "offensive" sight before him.

He always knows how to ruin a moment, Diluc thinks while sighing.

"C'mon lovebirds, I'm hungry." Kaeya calls out jokingly. You pack your bag and prepare to leave.

"Let's go 'Luc, your brother's hungry."

"He can starve."

"Diluc."

"Okay, fine." Your boyfriend reluctantly gets ready to go as well, and you walk down the steps to meet with Kaeya and leave the arena.

"That guy was pretty aggressive Diluc. A lot of people in the crowd were wondering why you didn't fight back." Kaeya says while the three of you walk towards the door.

"I would've gotten a penalty too if I engaged further. I just tried to defend myself." Diluc responds. You know that fights like these usually result in penalties, causing the player to be benched for a while. You can't help but feel protective over Diluc, despite the nature of the sport.

As you, Diluc and Kaeya walk out, you see a group of familiar boys- the opponents Diluc just faced, noticeable from the colour of their jerseys. You and Kaeya seem to catch a sight of them in the corner of your eyes while Diluc walks on without a care.

Kaeya makes eye contact with Number 17- the aggressive one, and sticks out his tongue while smiling and pulling his lower eyelid down. Though, Number 17 or his teammates probably didn't see it from how quickly Diluc yanked him by the collar. Kaeya lets out a subtle shriek from his brother's sudden actions, not expecting him to be so quick.

"Kaeya- what are you doing?! Do you want to get beaten up too?" Diluc says, scolding him and quickly dragging him away before he can cause any more chaos.

"What, I was trying to be funny."

"Nobody's laughing."

"Well he needs a laugh to calm down. Give him a tiny taste of his own medicine, y'know?"

"Yeah, he injured my handsome boyfriend!" you say, jokingly pouting and latching onto Diluc's arm.

Suddenly Diluc feels himself falling into that daze again, as he thinks about the words just spoken. It's strange seeing Diluc's rare smiles, especially after that feat on the ice. You and Kaeya somehow take this opportunity to playfully punch his arms.

Maybe it was the way you cheered him on. Maybe it was you wearing his jersey. Maybe it was the fact that you called him your handsome boyfriend.

No matter the reason, a few bruises aren't enough to weigh him down when he had you.

➽────────────❥

Figureskater!Kaeya fic here!

[storm-angel989]

Fighting For Control (Valentino x Employee Reader, Valentino x Wife Valentino x Daughter)

HUGE TRIGGER WARNING.

Eating Disorders. Eating disorder Treatment. Valentino.

Valentino sat off to the side and gazed at the stage. One by one, his dancers strutted down, swung their hips towards him and gave a smile. Casual dress was required for this particular cat walk. Despite being known as one of the most ruthless bosses of hell, he still needed to make sure his girls were healthy, and taking care of themselves. After all, it was just bad business to have his girls passing out in front of clients. He nodded in approval as each girl walked, seeming pleased until one of his dancers seemed to wobble down the stage.

A frown crossed his face. Reader. 

He knew when he hired her she would struggle with adjusting to a more comfortable lifestyle. And now as he took in her two loose braids, oversized sweater and jeans that he noticed last week were falling off her hips, alarm bells were ringing. He waited until the rest of the girls finished and then leaned over to the demon next to him. 

“I need reader in my office. Now. The rest of the girls are free to leave. And tell the nurse’s office to be on standby.”

Truth be told, he suspected when he hired her that she suffered from an eating disorder. Most of his girls did at some point in their careers. The majority of them came from a traumatic past, a life of fighting to survive. It was only to be expected that in this new line of work, the removal of that constant stress occasionally manifested in less than ideal ways. As he walked back to his office, he considered how he should handle this situation. In his early days, he would have simply forced her on the scale and if the number that flashed beneath his displeased him, he would have sent her off to the hospital for treatment, with the understanding that she could return only when she demonstrated progress. After all, he had a business to be concerned with, and an image to uphold. 

But now he had his own teenage daughter, one who struggled with her own issues surrounding food. Following her through therapy, working with her during family dinner time, and holding her as she cried because the little voice inside her head made her think she wasn’t good enough, would never be thin enough, pretty enough, had changed his entire perspective on both the illness and its treatment. He was thankful his experience in the field helped him catch his little girl before she was in as rough shape as reader clearly was, but his experience with someone he loved certainly made him a bit softer to his workers who were struggling. He took his seat in his chair as he considered his options. Separation of work and home- this wasn’t his daughter, or his wife. This was his employee. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t show compassion to her- concern and care. After all, she was battling a monster he had only glimpses into. 

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. 

“Ah. Come in,” he called. He studied reader as she walked in. Her hair was back in two loose braids, a useless attempt to hide her hair loss. Her jeans were practically falling off her hips with each step she took. Her tee shirt and oversized cardigan were recognizable defense mechanisms- armor she was desperately trying to hide behind. He knew he needed to come from a place of concern, or he would be shut down instantly. 

“Take a seat muñeca, ” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. 

She did so reluctantly and her eyes averted his gaze. “Did I do something wrong, sir?” Her voice was soft. Frightened. 

“No, bebita. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I am concerned about you. Tell me the truth, doll. Is everything okay? Are the other girls treating you alright?” He asked. 

“Yes sir, they treat me fine,” she muttered. 

He considered how to approach this. Looking at the big picture, she was relatively new to him. She didn’t really know him or his methods. Softness, first, he thought was the best option. “You’ve been with me for how long now…three months?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you live in one of the flats with the other girls, yes?”

She kept her gaze down. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you finding the essentials sufficient? Your room, clothing, food?”

That got a reaction out of her. He watched as she switched to defensive mode at the mere mention of food. His heart sank. Part of him wished his suspicion was inaccurate, but her behavior simply confirmed his fear.

“Yes, sir. Everything is fine. Can I go now?” 

“You may not.” He stood up and pulled a scale out from his desk. “I’m noticing a concerning pattern of behavior, cariño. I need you to step on the scale for me, hm?”

The defensiveness overtook her. “No.”

He expected such a reaction. She needed to be reminded who was in control here- it was her best chance at survival. The red chains sprang forward and wrapped around her wrist, bringing her to him. 

“I own you. You will do what I say, when I say it. And that includes this. Understood?”

He watched the familiar battle unfold. Unlike his daughter, he had control over this demon. More of the ability to save her from herself. He released the chains and he nudged her to the scale- the one that wouldn’t flash the number on the base, and instead send the data directly to his phone. Another trick he learned with his daughter. Without another option, reader stepped on. 

He checked the digits that popped up on his phone. Valentino felt his stomach drop. The number was by far one of the lowest he had seen. Guilt spread through him, anger at himself and this illness. He should have been keeping a closer eye on her.  He only hoped the threat of his contract would be enough motivation for her to comply with treatment. Technically speaking, he could keep her alive. But there were parts of an eating disorder he couldn’t control.  

“Alright, babydoll. Step off,” he said quietly, sliding a hand under her arm. “And sit for me.”

Terror spread across her features. “What is my weight?”

Valentino looked at her evenly. “Too low for me to comfortably have you on my stage, bebita.”

“But what exactly is my weight?” she begged. 

“You need to let me worry about that, sweetheart,” he replied evenly. He knew better than to get combative. After all, he was the one in control here. Not her. And he certainly wouldn’t let her illness work its way in. “Let me be very clear with what will happen next.  I’m going to escort you down to the nurses office. From there, you will be hospitalized until that number is in the healthy range.”

Reader crossed her arms. “You can’t do that! I’m an adult!”

“Oh I can. I own you. Or have you forgotten that?” He leaned forward, “And I refused to let one of my most promising dancers starve herself into nothingness.”

“I eat, Valentino. I do! Please, just let me go home,” she begged. “Please! I’m fine! I swear!”

He looked at her softly. “You’re not fine. That much is clear. Come along now. I’m taking you whether you fight me the entire way or not.” 

Normally, he would have the nurse meet them with a wheelchair for a number that low, but she was already so frightened. His heart ached for her, for the pain she was going through both physically and mentally. He slipped his hand under her arm and guided her down the hallway. She seemed to shut down in his grasp, a quiet, fragile doll. 

“You will do what they say, you will eat what they tell you and you will not fight them, do you understand?” He asked once they were in the nurse's office. He sat her on the bed. “We’re going to get a gown on you. Arms up.” 

He carefully pulled back her sweater.  She sat stiffly, not actively fighting him but also not helping him in any way. He tugged off her t-shirt and bit back the gasp that threatened in the back of his throat. Emaciated wasn’t a strong enough word. 

He kept his touch gentle as he tied back the gown and helped her lay on the bed, but inside, anger bubbled. This disease, this illness was something he couldn’t eliminate, as much as he wanted to. He watched and listened quietly as the doctor as he came over and began to work over her. After a few moments, the doctor turned to Valentino. 

“Two thousand calories, through her nose to start,” the doctor said. “And we’ll get her into therapy right away.”

He wanted to tell the doctor to talk to her, not to him. But that illusion that he was in control, not her eating disorder, couldn’t be broken. Valentino turned to her and to his surprise, she looked furious.

“Five hundred. And no feeding tube.” She shot back. 

The doctor looked at Valentino and Valentino bit back a sharp word. It wouldn’t help anything for him to be angry.

. “This isn’t a negotiation. What the doctor says, goes. The only choice you have is if you take this willingly or we keep you too sleepy to fight.” 

His words seemed cold even to him, and he honestly suspected that that was an empty threat. He doubted her body could handle anything extraneous at this point. But by the expression on her face, she didn’t know that. 

“Valentino, no please,” she begged. “I’ll eat more, I promise.”

“Then prove it,” he replied sternly. He laid a gentle hand on her forehead, “I want to see next week's weigh in significantly higher.” 

Her tone hardened. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You do not.” 

“Fine.” 

Valentino watched as the doctor slid the tube into her, biting back the frustration that was building in his chest. Flashes of his own daughter being threatened with the same treatment raced through his mind.The threat was enough to scare her into his arms, sobbing and making the same promises. He was thankful she had kept her promise, and came home that day, willing to consume what the doctor prescribed. To an extent, of course- but they worked through it together.

Finally, once reader was settled, he watched as she closed her eyes. She had to be exhausted. He hoped she realized now that she was in a safe place, and they were on the same side, but he doubted it. Which was fine with him- he didn’t mind being the enemy for the time being.  

“Will she make it?” Valentino asked as they stepped out of the room. 

The doctor shrugged. “She should. She’s lucky you are so…attentive to your employees.” 

Valentino felt his expression harden, a mask to protect helpself and his reputation. “It’s bad business to not be. I’ll check in on her tomorrow. If she needs anything, let me know and take care of it the best you can in the meantime. I expect updates- this one shows promise on my stage.” 

And with that, he turned and walked out. The clock on his watch said five, and he needed to go home. Exhaustion swept over him, feelings of helplessness and the worry that that could have been his daughter. His wife. Both struggled with their own body issues. The desperate feeling of anxiety overwhelmed him. He checked both their vitals on the app he had synched to his phone. The numbers were fine, but just checking wasn’t enough. He needed to see them, needed them in his arms, and needed to make sure with his own eyes that they were safe. He walked from the elevator to the door of his wife’s office. He pushed open the door without a knock and closed it behind him. 

She looked up from her computer. He smiled as he took in the sight of her. Pretty blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun. Blue light glasses to prevent headaches. And an outfit that she could dominate the entire world in. 

 “Hey honey, what’s up?” She asked as she stood up. “Everything okay?” 

He pressed his lips to hers and wrapped her in his arms. “Just a long day.” Even to him, the words sounded flat. He pushed her head to his chest and held her against him for a heartbeat. He wasn’t ready to talk, not yet. At the moment, he just needed to hold her. 

She gave him a knowing look. “Mhm, sure. Bed tonight?” 

Of course she knew. He knew she knew. And she wouldn’t press the issue, not until he was ready. Or until bedtime. Whichever came first. 

“Is our baby princessa home or did she stay late at school?” He asked as he slowly released her. 

His wife pressed her cheek to his and gave him a nuzzle and a kiss. “She’s in her room last I checked. Why? Did she…”

“No, no. I just want to see my daughter,” he replied quickly. “Go back to work mi amore. So you can come home sooner.” 

She looked at him with concern. “You did have a rough day. Let me finish up, I’ll be home in an hour.” 

He gave her another kiss before letting her go back to her work, and he made his way upstairs to their own floor of the V tower. Their home they shared with his two best friends. Down her hallway, his daughter's door was closed and he hesitated for a moment but knocked anyway. He needed to see her, for his own sake.

“Baby Princessa? Are you awake?” 

“Daddy? Yeah come in, I'm working on my homework.” He heard her reply. 

He pushed open the doors of the once pink room. Now everything within reflected her current interests. Blacks. Grays. Reds. Purples. Not too different honestly than her Aunt Velvette’s. It was an adjustment, watching her grow from a little girl to a sullen teen, but he was grateful she had the support, love and anything else she needed.

“Hi bebita,” he walked over and kissed the top of her head. “How was your day?”  He expected to be met with sullenness, an implied go away, Dad, I’m busy, that so frequently laced her voice these days. 

To his surprise, she turned around and beamed. “It was long Daddy, but look I got an A on my Spanish test thanks to you!” She excitedly handed him the paper, “look! I even got the bonus words right!”

“Ah, pequeño amor, I am so proud of you! You did the work. Not me. But come here, give your papi a hug.”

She stood up and practically ran into his arms and jumped up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her for a moment, feeling her weight in his arms. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. She was okay. She was healthy. They still had plenty of time together to be sure they had stamped her eating issues early on in life.

“Daddy, are you okay?”

The sound of her concerned voice broke him from his thoughts. He gently released her. His daughter was okay, and she would continue to be okay. 

“Yes, bebita. Come on, let’s pause your homework. Mom should be home soon, and let’s grab Aunt Velvette and Uncle Vox. We can go out to dinner and celebrate that A. How’s that sound?” 

“Deal! Thanks Dad!” She jumped up and wrapped her arms around him again. “Best Papi ever!” 

That he wasn’t so sure of, but he accepted the compliment anyway. 

At dinner that night, he watched how much she consumed. How she reacted to the arrival of dinner. He searched desperately for hints that her issues were making a headway. To his relief, he saw nothing- no sign that her illness was anywhere close to showing its ugly self. 

He laid in bed later that night, the weight of his wife’s head on his chest as he filled her in on the events of the day, his worries, his fears. His concern for both reader and his daughter. It felt good to get it all out, to have his other half to share life with. 

“I just, I wish I had acted sooner,” he finished. 

“But the doctor says he thinks she’ll be okay?” She asked as she pressed her lips to the center of his chest. “Then that’s what matters.”

“It could have been our daughter,” he said aloud. “I didn’t see any sign of it at dinner tonight, but it could have been her lying in that hospital bed. It could have been her so close to death.”

His wife sat up. “That’s really what’s bothering you, isn’t it? Not just the fact that you’re seeing your own employees- which lets admit, Val, you’ve started to give a damn about, but also seeing your worst fear for your own daughter blossom in front of your eyes.”

He nodded and followed ensuite. “I keep seeing that image of her, she was so thin it was terrifying. If I was even a week later…”

“But you weren't. You got reader into treatment on time, and are doing everything in your power to help her beat her illness. And, my love, our daughter is fine. We are doing everything we can to make sure that she continues to beat this. She’s in weekly therapy sessions, hell we haven’t had a dinner fight in almost two years.” She took his hands in his. “Val, you can’t beat yourself up over this.” 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hated this, the lack of control The feeling of helplessness. He wasn’t used to this feeling- Valentino was all about control. 

“Babe, where are you going?” His wife asked. 

“To check on our daughter.”

He pushed open the door to her bedroom and to his relief, he saw her curled up under her blankets, fast asleep. He stood there for a second, watching the rise and fall of her chest. He looked at his phone for the second time that day. Her vitals were fine. She was fine. Reader would be fine. He felt an arm wrap around his waist and he looked down at his wife. 

“She’s as perfect as the day she was born,” his wife said softly. “Come back to bed, Val. She’s okay.” 

Valentino allowed himself to exhale and back in his own bed, he laid his head on his wife’s chest and closed his eyes, allowing the sound of her heartbeat to fill his ears. “Mi amore, why do the people in my life not see the beauty that I see in them?” 

“Val, I wish I knew the answer,” she replied tiredly as she held him. “But I don’t. But I can tell you that you’ve done enough for today, you did the right thing for reader, and you, my love, need to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.” She shifted herself under him and gripped him tighter. “I’ve got you. Now sleep.” 

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to wash over him. His wife was right. Reader would be okay, and his daughter was okay. He would take care of them all with everything he had.

[the-power-of-a-pen]

A Way Home

Fandom: Spiderverse

Summary: Following the loss of his alternate universe daughter, Miguel is reluctant to risk letting anyone close to him and breaking canon again. However, as most anomalies are returned to their universes, there's the issue of you. You don't have a universe to return to. So, after having you on his team for half a year, he adopts you as his child.

Word Count: 4654

Pairing?: Father-child relationship btwn Miguel and gn! reader.

Trigger Warnings: Some cursing, reader is hinted to having a traumatic past (very briefly and vaguely described), 1 reference to reader as "Spiderman" (meant as a gender-neutral phrase)

A/n: This turned out to be longer than I had planned b/c I realized how much I had to add to make the change of heart even slightly natural, so let me know if y'all want a part two of the reader and Miguel interacting further along the adoption. Not sure how I feel about the structure + characterization in this one. Feedback much appreciated! Please!! I'm on my hands and knees, begging for feedback!!!

------

"Lyla, status on current anomalies," Miguel ordered. He leaned over the yellow panels in front of him, watching the same scene of him and his child playing over and over again. His grip on the console tightened.

She blipped into view. "Currently, there are 918,503,201 anomalies to be returned to their home universes. That's 40% less than yesterday! Spider-Byte does have an update for you regarding-"

"I'll convene with her later. I'm busy."

"Busy brooding over your twelfth cup of coffee. Not enough sugar this time around?" Lyla teased, only to be met with a glare. "Alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. But seriously, it can't wait. A canon event was disrupted and now there's a spider-person without a universe to return to."

Miguel turned around dangerously fast. "What did you just say?"

"Talk to Margo -- she'll fill you in." Lyla blipped away.

------

"There you are," Margo mumbled to herself as Miguel approached. "This one's in rough shape, got dropped in Earth 616 and put up a fierce fight before Jessica took them to HQ. I tried to send them through the Go Home Machine, but it just dropped them back here."

"And you're sure it's not a hardware issue?"

"It's 2099," Margo drolled and rolled her eyes. "There's no hardware issues anymore, grandpa."

"Then try sending them home again. I don't see why this requires my supervision."

"This machine tears people's atoms apart and throws them back together in other dimensions," she explained. "If I run the same person through the machine too many times, they could die."

Miguel sighed heavily and began pacing around. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Keep them here forever?"

Margo looked at him like he was crazy and slowly nodded. "You can't leave them here to die."

"They're an anomaly anywhere they go, Spider-Byte. Maybe death would be a mercy."

"To you," Peter B. called from behind him.

"Maldito sea, carajo" Miguel cursed under his breath, turning around. "I thought you were taking the week off."

"Well, I was going to, but Mayday was begging me for another one of these cafeteria burgers," he said with his mouth full of food. "They're really good, you should seriously try them sometime."

Miguel's eyes darted to Mayday and quickly darted away. "I have work to return to in my office, so if you'll excuse me-"

Peter stepped in his way. "I'm sorry, Miguel, but I can't let you walk away from this problem. It's gone too far."

"I'm sorry, what?" Miguel questioned, laughing bitterly.

"Ok, I'm not great with words, especially not in front of big, strong, angry men, so MJ had me prewrite this, let me just get it- oh, Mayday has it. Mayday, hold the paper up for daddy, thanks, sweetheart."

Peter cleared his throat and began to over-annunciate his speech. "Everyone in this building joined your society because they believed in your ability to lead, shape, and change the world. We trusted you to use humane practices behind your actions and to keep the safety and rights of humanity at mind before all else. However, given the fact- Ok, this is bullshit - sorry, Mayday, don't tell mommy. Point is, Miguel, that you claim that you're all about saving the multiverse and saving humanity, but then you throw half of your sanity away to hunt down a 15 year old kid who just wants to save his dad. You're so obsessed with the concept of saving humanity that you forgot what it's like to care about individual humans. You forgot how to be a human."

"I never forgot what it felt like to care. To love."

"It's okay to admit that the new kid reminds you of your daughter, you know."

For a moment, Miguel and Peter B. just stood across from each other in silence, unable to break eye contact. Miguel's expression was intense, but otherwise unreadable. Then: "Go home, Parker. More and more of you prove that you're untrustworthy when it comes to prioritizing the greater good. I'm not afraid to get rid of you, too."

Peter's arms gripped on tighter to Mayday. He seemed to want to say something, but found it in him to walk away. Once he went through his portal back home, Miguel called for Lyla.

"Hold the chatter, Lyla," he said before she could open her mouth, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Silence any notifications except for the urgent ones. And I mean urgent."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she remarked sarcastically, but complied.

------

Everything in Miguel's office repeated like a broken record. The video of his daughter. Peter's comment that he "forgot what it's like to care about humans, forgot how to be human." Gwen's "we're supposed to be the good guys." The feeling of his own child glitching out of existence in his palms, the very reason he got into this work. The ticking of the clock. The ticking of that motherfucking clock.

He zipped a web to the clock and smashed it into the ground, falling to a knee amidst the broken glass.

"I understand that you're having a very emo moment right now, Mr. O'Hara," Pavitr began, "But Jessica told me to drop this off." He placed the file on the floor and nudged it over with his foot as far as he could without getting too close. "I'm heading home now, have a great day!"

"Wait."

"Oh, I was afraid you would say that."

"Tell Jessica to report to my office."

"She said to tell you that she's not available until noon tomorrow."

"Of course," he chuckled angrily. "One person's off for the week, another needs 3 weeks of recovery. Now one of my only trustworthy members can't report for duty until tomorrow. But who's checking in on me, huh? That's right - no one. I took on this leadership role because I know firsthand what it feels like to have the only joy in your life, your only reason for living, taken away from you because of your own reckless mistakes. And despite all of that, I made it my life's mission to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else. But now I'm the villain?! "'We're supposed to be the good guys!'" "'You can't leave them to die!'" "'They remind you of your daughter.'" But does anyone else here know the pain of losing a child you weren't even destined to have?"

Pavitr blinked heavily. "With all due respect, sir, I'm 17."

Miguel barely seemed to hear him. He sank to the floor, running his hands through his hair and not bothering to clear the glass shards around him. "Maybe they're all right. Maybe I'm the one hurting everyone else. Maybe I'll make the same mistake I did before, and take another innocent life because I want to feel fulfilled, just for a moment."

"Should I get someone?"

Miguel sighed. "Just go."

------

“Morning, sunshine,” Jessica called, taking a seat in Miguel’s office. “You had a chance to go through the file?”

Miguel hummed in agreement. “Need a second opinion.”

Jessica flipped through her copy of your file. “Teenager, been Spiderman for 2 years, originally from Earth 45, but got dropped in Ben’s world. A slippery one for sure; took nearly two hours to get them on the ground. Tried talking to them, but they wouldn't speak. I know my stance on this, but what’s yours?”

Miguel paced around the room. “We can’t keep them here. They’re an anomaly regardless of where they go. Margo said that it would be too inhumane to send them through the Go Home Machine again, so… I think we should let them go quietly.”

“Are you serious?”

“When am I not serious?” He took a seat across from Jessica. “I’ve been hearing it from everyone else. I need to hear it from someone who was there from the beginning. Someone who I trust. Am I falling off the edge? Have I gone too far?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re just now questioning that? Look, as your friend, I’ll say this: you’re taking too much weight onto your shoulders. You need to stop being Spiderman for a moment and start being Miguel.” She shifted in her seat. “But, as your teammate, I want you to know that I’ll be by your side no matter what you choose.”

Miguel nodded, but he was totally spaced out. All he could think about was his daughter. How he wanted to take this one in so bad, just to feel like a father again, feel like a man again. How he feared the consequences of love. 

Jessica snapped in front of his face. “Earth to Miguel.”

He shook his head. “What?”

“Look, I can’t say that I don’t agree with your initial idea. But I look at them, and at Gwen, and at my future kid, and-” She put her hand on her stomach “-I just can’t imagine leaving them in the dust like that. I was wrong about Gwen, yes, but these kids are suffering. And I don’t know if we can keep making these hard decisions that put these people right back where they were trying to escape from and still call ourselves heroes.”

Miguel held his face in his hands. “I don’t know what’s up and down anymore, right or wrong. I was all of these kids once: Miles, Gwen, Hobie. I know what it’s like to love your family so much that you throw everything else to the wayside. But that cost me my child, and thousands of other lives. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do anything to stop it. I just want to stop the suffering. I just want it to stop.”

Jessica gave him a moment. “Let’s meet the kid. Give them a trial before we make any decisions we can’t take back.”

“Alright,” he agreed, “But if you’re wrong about this-”

“Then lunch is on me. Come on, mafioso.”

------

“Here they are,” Margo announced. “Just so you know, they’re fully aware of their situation, but not very talkative.”

“Let me talk to them,” Miguel insisted. “I want to hear what they have to say.”

As Miguel and Jessica approached, you refused to meet their eyes. Instead, you drew your hood closer to your face.

Miguel took a knee by you, talking through the red barrier. “Hey, kid. My name is Miguel. Miguel O’Hara. I’m Spiderman.”

You gasped dramatically. “No way! Really? I never would have guessed!”

He took in a breath. “So you do speak. Look, we’re trying to relocate you, but we need to have your account of what happened. Why doesn’t your home exist anymore?”

You shrugged and counted off the events on your fingers. “Dalmatian-looking dude crashed through a window at my internship. He went straight for the collider room, and most of my mentors were at lunch, so I went after him. I tried to shut off the collider at the same time he stepped through it, he pushed me into a hole, that lady behind you caught me after an uncomfortably long chase, and here we are.”

“You worked at Alchemax,” Miguel mumbled, though mostly to himself.

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning back. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Did you get bitten by the radioactive spider before or after working there?”

“Did I fucking what?”

“That’s how you got your powers, right?” He asked.

“My powers? Oh, I see what’s happening here,” you laughed. “You’re all off your rockers! Let me guess, this is some alternate dimension Alchemax where everyone’s trying to biologically get the abilities that I developed through technology. Ooh ooh, or, this is an elite spider society trying to save the multiverse from itself!”

“That was really just a guess?” questioned Jessica.

“I read a lot of sci-fi,” you explained.

“Nevermind all of that,” Miguel groaned. “What’s your story, kid? What’s your motive? Because if we don’t have that information, we can’t help get you out of there.”

Your expression became grave for a moment as you considered your options and chuckled bitterly. “My story? My story is that I’m a poor kid from the slums who worked their ass off to get into a good school so that I could do better for my family. My story is that my family never loved me, my friends never cared, and I was forced to choose between what I love to do and what the world needed from me. I didn’t have the power to stop my parents from hurting me or stop people from hurting each other. So, I manufactured that power and took it into my own hands. My story is that the moment I was released from that hellhole of a world, I was locked up in a three foot wide cage and forced to talk about my feelings. I heard what you guys were talking about in that back room. All I ask is that you do it quickly. I don’t like waiting.”

“Miguel, we can take a quick debrief if you need one,” Jessica offered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Miguel didn’t budge. He looked into your eyes and felt your pain like it was his own. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally: “Let them go, Margo.”

“What?” 

“You heard me,” he asserted. “Let them go.”

Margo released you and offered her hand to help you step down from the pedestal, which you reluctantly accepted. “Didn’t know you were one for sob stories, Mr. O’Hara,” you mocked, though your comment fell through as soon as your legs trembled from lack of use.

“I’m not,” he responded, walking up to you. “But I know an innovator when I see one. You’re hurt, yes, but you have the capacity to do so much good. I’m offering you a place on my team.”

You approached cautiously, your arms crossed. “And if I say no?”

“I’d ask you to reconsider.” He held out his hand for a shake. You accepted, and he smiled. “Welcome to HQ.”

Margo whooped in the background and gave your shoulder a squeeze.

------

“Ok, first mission briefing,” Miguel started, walking backwards.

“On the move?” you asked.

“That’s the only way to do it.” He shot a web to a nearby building and dropped from an HQ terrace. 

You followed suit. “Where exactly are we going?” you shouted over the wind.

“Earth 616. There’s a rogue Vulture stealing tech from Osborn. We’d let it happen, but the man's the only thing between a country of people and an all-out war.”

“Got it.”

“We go in, capture Vulture, and bring him back to HQ. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

 You stepped through your portal and immediately got whiplash from the pure speed of a nearby aircraft. 

Vulture swooped down from above and tore the tail off of the police helicopter. It crashed into a skyscraper and gained speed as it headed for the street below. 

Miguel spoke to you through the comms. “Trial number one, newbie. I’ll pursue Vulture; you stop that helicopter from hurting civilians.”

“On it.” You dived off of your skyscraper to gain speed and pulled yourself forward with your webs. In one smooth movement, you grabbed the two co-pilots and placed them on the closest rooftop. 

The helicopter was quickly approaching the ground, where children were playing in an enclosed playground. 

“Shit,” you murmured, propelling yourself under the machine to create a landing pad for it at a safe distance from the kids. At the rate you could fire, you wouldn’t be able to stop it on time. 

In the distance, you saw Miguel struggling to keep Vulture away from a construction site, and reached out to him over the comms. “Have him ram into that crane.”

“What?”

“Just trust me.”

Miguel redirected the Vulture, dodging last second when he attacked so that the crane would fall down. 

The crane caught the chopper where it was, and you used it as a crutch to help you redirect the chaos to the empty street. You swung around the crane five times, wrapping an immense amount of webbage around it and attaching along the side of a business building. When the helicopter threatened to fall due to the weight of it, you shot three web bombs at it to keep it in place.

When you reached the ground, you were out of breath and half-heartedly waving to the clapping children and their parents. Miguel placed his hand on your shoulder as you observed the incapacitated Vulture.

“Not bad, kid,” Miguel chuckled. “Not bad.”

------

A good six months had passed, and you had risen in the ranks of the Spider Society. You were still without a place to stay, and had been bouncing from place to place in between missions. The first month, it was Pavitr and his aunt’s place. Then, Hobie’s, then HQ, and finally, Gwen’s. Most of your free time was spent discussing tech with Margo or trailing behind Miguel. 

A building-wide alert had gone off, sending every spider-being into high alert as they searched for the threat.

“What’s the sitch?” you asked Miguel as the two of you bounded down the hall. “A futuristic Rhino that’s suspected to work for The Spot just invaded HQ. He’s trying to destroy our tech and pick us off.”

Just as Miguel had finished his explanation, Rhino crashed through a door four floors below. You both zipped towards him, barely avoiding running into Peter B. as he took a picture of himself, Mayday, and Rhino. Miguel attacked Rhino head-on, performing a spin-kick to the face before webbing his arms together and latching onto his back. Rhino broke his constraints effortlessly, and threw Miguel out of a nearby window. You helped Noir get to his feet and went after Rhino.

By the time you got there, Rhino had Miguel pinned to the cracked concrete. His web shooters were broken, and he was using all of his remaining strength to stop Rhino from snapping his neck. When he saw you approaching, he tried to silently signal for you to go, but you didn’t listen.

“Hey, Alexei!” you shouted. “I never really took you for the dominant type! It doesn’t suit you.”

You swung a piece of concrete at his back and zipped to deliver a punch to the face. Rhino was quick to return the favor, and charged you through a nearby wall. 

Miguel attempted to stand up as backup arrived. He climbed onto Rhino’s back and sunk his teeth into his neck, effectively, though temporarily, paralyzing him. A team of 15 spiderbeings worked to get Rhino back to HQ while you and Jessica helped Miguel to his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking, kid? You could have died,” Miguel snapped.

“You were the one near death,” you argued. “If I didn’t come when I did, you could’ve died. Was I just supposed to let that happen?!”

“Yes!”

“No!” You dropped his arm from around your shoulder and Peter B. went to pick up the slack. “Why is it so hard for you to understand that people care about you? You gave me a chance when no one else would. I lost my world, my home, and my friends. I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“That’s not for you to decide. I can’t trust you like an adult if you refuse to act like one,” he grunted, before wavering in his stance. Jessica helped right him. 

You took a step back and pressed your lips together. “You know, I joined this team because I wanted to save people. I have the ability to save them. And… if you can’t acknowledge that ability, then… maybe you need to reevaluate your interests.” With that, you took off.

Jessica and Peter sat Miguel down to rest. 

“How bad did I fuck up?” Miguel inquired.

“Give them a few minutes to sit on it,” Peter suggested. “Kids are like that. They need time to cool off. Just make sure you talk to them later.”

------

You sat on the slanted glass roof of HQ to listen to music and blow off some steam. Heavy footprints sounded from behind you. You sighed. “If you’re here to argue, can you at least wait until the end of this song?”

“I’m not going to argue with you. I wanted to talk. And… apologize.”

That piqued your interest, but you tried to sound nonchalant as you gestured to the space next to you. “Go ahead, then. Sit.” You turned the music off.

He obliged. “I’m sorry for saying that I couldn’t trust you and that you needed to act like an adult. It wasn’t fair. I do trust you, and there’s no reason for you to act like an adult when you’re still a kid. I’ll be more conscious of my words in the future.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

You sat in silence for a while, and you began to get up.

“Wait,” he asked. “Please.”

“What did you really come here to say?”

“Just sit, and I’ll tell you.” He waited for you to return to your spot and took a deep breath. “When I was first messing with the multiverse after working at Alchemax, I wasn’t as careful as I am now. I found a world where I was dead, but had a daughter, so I replaced myself and began raising her. I loved her more than anything. But, I was an anomaly, and had disrupted canon events. I felt her glitch right out of my hands. Thousands of innocent people died that day because of me. So, I made a vow to myself: never again. I wouldn’t let this happen to anyone else, and I wouldn’t let anyone get close to me.”

He paused, gulped, and forced himself to make eye contact with you. “Then I met you. And I tried to hate you, I really did. But you’re funny, and you’re smart and passionate, and you have a damn good heart. And everything in me just wants to protect you. I’m so mad at myself for hurting you and-”

You cut him off with a bear hug, to which he slowly responded once he understood what was happening. You shed a few tears into the crook of his neck and mumbled, “I’m sorry, too.”

He laughed, partially in disbelief. “For what?”

“I called you a dick behind your back for the first three months because I thought you had a stick up your ass.” You backed away snickering and wiped your eyes. “But you’re more my family than my parents ever were.”

Now or never, Miguel.

“About that,” he began. “I know you’ve been staying at Gwen’s place - and you’re completely free to stay there if you want - I just thought it might be nice for you to have a permanent place to stay, a school to go to, a familiar face, you know?”

“Not really,” you expressed. “What do you mean?”

“I- it’s better if I just show you.” Miguel took a folder out of his bag and handed it to you. He looked the other way as you processed what he gave you.

“Are these adoption papers?”

“Um… yeah,” he relented, still refusing to look your way. 

“And this isn’t a joke?”

“Of course not. But, it’s also up to you. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do-”

“Yes,” you cut him off and wrapped him in an even tighter hug. “Absolutely yes.”

------

Miguel helped you carry your few boxes of belongings that you had left at Gwen’s into his modern duplex. 

“Jesus, dude,” you commented. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

He laughed. “This is what being a scientist earns you.”

“Damn.” You took the space in. The windows in the living room were from floor to ceiling, the couch a cool grey with ornate yellow and green pillows. Everything was open concept, and both the Mexican and Irish flag hung on either side of the TV. Aside from the occasional painting, the apartment was largely monochromatic. 

“The kitchen is under that loft area, which I usually use as office space, but you’re free to use it, too. Bathrooms on first and second floors,” he explained while walking up the stairs. He stopped in front of the third door to the right. “This is your room.”

You gently pushed open the door. Miguel had prepared for your arrival intensely. A twin bed sat in the back left corner of the room, a desk in the back right. There was a wide panel of windows with shades and a nightstand with knick knacks. A mirror, bookshelf, decorative rug, and bean bag filled the empty space. A poster with a Spiderman symbol hung over your desk, and a smile fought its way onto your face. 

“There’s a closet, too,” Miguel said proudly.

You opened the closet to find it fully stocked with casual, formal, and tactical clothing. “You did all of this for me?”

He smiled warmly. “Welcome home.”

------

It was the following year on Father’s Day, and you were waiting for Miguel to come home when you heard keys turning at the door. 

“Hey,” you called from the kitchen island. “I made dinner for us. And we can watch that crappy comedy show that you like.”

He hung up his jacket and gave you a hug. “Thanks, sweetheart. How was it with your friends?”

“Pretty good. But it took an hour to get Miles out of that Famous Footwear. I swear that boy has enough sneakers to cover the Mediterranean. How was work?”

Miguel grabbed a plate and took a seat next to you. “Well, we finally figured out the malfunction in the control room. Hobie had been messing around with it for his own projects. Shocker, right? But other than that it was just a bunch of boring meetings.”

“Oh, I just remembered something.” You rushed upstairs to get a gift bag from your room and returned, out of breath. “I made this for you. It’s not much, but my job doesn’t start until July and I wanted to give you something, so…”

He removed the tissue paper to find a carefully knitted shawl with his suit designs on it. He remained speechless for a moment. 

“What do you think?”

“I love it.”

“Really? Cuz I could get you something else if you’d prefer-”

“I love it,” he repeated, giving you a bear hug. “I’ll wear it all the time when the weather takes a turn.”

“I thought it might be useful for winter patrols,” you admitted. 

“It will be. I know you don’t like getting too sappy, so let’s watch some TV, yeah?”

Halfway through an episode of the comedy show, you got up to use the bathroom. Miguel paused the show and admired your work on his shawl. When you came back, he was still staring at it as if he were examining each individual stitch. 

“I’m back,” you said when he didn’t acknowledge you. 

He hummed in response. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You furrowed your brows, worried now. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not all, it’s just…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to let you know that I would understand if you want to look into seeing if there’s any way to find your real parents. I love you and I want you here, don’t get me wrong, but if this is something you feel strongly about, I wanted to make sure you knew that my feelings wouldn’t be hurt.”

You stared at him for a while before bursting into laughter. 

“What’s so funny?”

You grabbed his hands and looked him in his eyes. “I found my real dad the moment you brought me here. I’m home.”

He squeezed your hands and repeated your words as if convincing himself of the truth. “You’re home.”

------

[chrisevansonly]

Block Out the Noise

pairing: harry styles x female reader

summary: sometimes you just need to listen to your song and love on your boyfriend to make the negative thoughts go away

warnings: mention of past abuse, talks of depression and suicidal thoughts, potentially triggering(?!) very soft and caring harry&lt;3

a/n: i wanted to write something about matilda because it’s a song that I hold so close to my heart. from growing up in an abusive home and needing to take care of my brother from age 6 and up, when i heard matilda i knew it would be a song i’d cherish forever. this is a fic i hold close to my heart because i was that scared and small little girl who didn’t understand why i got anger taken out on me and why i had bruises when other kids didn’t. you’re not alone, you’ve got me in your corner and your stronger than you know, i hope my inner child knows that too<3

No one asks to be born into a world of chaos and fear, especially not when you’re a child. Wondering why your parents fought, the screaming matches, the subtle bruises you somehow ended up with because you ‘stood in the way.’ As a child you never knew what went wrong or what you did to be treated this way but you still tried your hardest regardless of the war zone you once called home.

you were riding your bike to the sound of its no big deal, and you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels..

You taught yourself to read, to cook, to take care of yourself and your siblings. Going as far as to teach yourself to ride a bike and even drive, you raised yourself in a world where you wished you hadn’t needed to do that. When you got to high school the insults from your father got worse, the insecurity creeped in and you struggled with self worth and self harm.

nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming til now..

Then came college where you worked three jobs to pay your tuition and fought tooth and nail to get the best grades and work your absolute hardest to get your degree which you did all on your own. Mental illness and recovery was never linear and you battled some of your darkest days throughout college and even towards graduation when you met Harry.

so you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal

Harry was your world, he was the calm through the storm, the light that helped guide you through the tough times, he truly was your best friend. You’d been together now going on 5 years with no plans of ever separating from one another. He always told you that you provided just as much safety and comfort to him as he could to you.

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

-

Now you were 26 and worked at your dream job, your life was filled with so much love and so much joy sometimes you found yourself needing to take a step back and just breathe, reminding yourself your life was real. Of course you had your rough days, and after the meeting and scolding you’d gotten today, all you wanted was to get home and see Harry.

matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright, but I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

When Harry had started working on the album, he’d told you he was writing one very special song he couldn’t wait to share with you. So on the day that he sat you down and let you listen to Matilda, by the second line you were looking over at him with tears in your eyes, bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly and he was quick to pull you into his chest.

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

When you arrived home you dropped your work things by the front closet, kicking your heels off and dropping your shoulders in exhaustion. Harry wasn’t home yet so you allowed yourself a few minutes to get some water, your headphones and settle on the couch with a fluffy blanket.

it’s none of my business but it’s just been on my mind

On natural instinct almost, you allowed the soft melody of matilda to play through your headphones, eyes closing as you sunk into the cushions. It wasn’t as if you were trying to cower from the overwhelming feelings you had in this moment, but more or less trying to let them flow and escape from your mind

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

You hadn’t even noticed the tears steadily falling down your cheeks, your breathing picking up slightly as you pulled the blanket up further, attempting to wrap yourself in more warmth. It wasn’t until you felt gentle fingertips dancing across your face that you opened your eyes, Harry looking at you in concern. Pausing the song you pulled your headphones off and sent him a soft smile

“Hey m’love…”

“Hi”

Lifting the blanket up you let him cuddle in next to you, the instant comfort you felt just from being wrapped up in his arms was enough to blow the stress and pain from the day away

“You okay y/n?”

Nodding you leaned further into him

“Just had a really bad day…got yelled at and it just made me think of old stuff and I don’t know…f-felt a bit sad”

Harry placed a soft kiss against your temple

“I’m sorry today was so tough, I know it was probably hard to remember what it was like growing up too..can’t blame you for feeling upset”

His hands ran up and down your arm softly, the constant touch helping to keep you grounded and in the present moment.

“You know what I think?”

Looking up at him you furrowed your brows

“What?”

Placing a kiss on your lips he smiled

“I think you are the most beautiful soul, inside and out. Despite everything you’re still here, fighting and working hard day in and day out. You don’t ever have to feel sorry or feel bad about doing everything you’ve done on your own, and allowing yourself to love and experience love despite it all”

“H…”

He was quick to swipe a tear from your cheek before continuing

“I love you so much, you’re my now and my future. Seeing you grow and flourish into the woman you are today has been a privilege to witness and support you through. I admire you so much m’baby, you’ve never let anyone dim your light and m’so lucky to get to love you”

Anything you would have said to him in this moment was caught in your throat, so wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight was enough for him in the moment. Harry was the moon and the stars to you, he was your whole universe and he’d been helping you heal since you’d been together. You’d done the hardest work on this journey, he had just been there to support and love you through it so he says.

“I love you so much H, thank you for letting me start a new family”

“I’ll always be your family, you’re safe with me my darling, always”

Matilda was a song that would forever have its hold on you, and it was even more special knowing Harry had wrote it thinking of you, including you in his album and one of his projects he really loved. The love he’d shown you and continues to show you had only helped you come out of your shell and finally feel as if you’d found your place and purpose in this world.

Harry was your home, just as you were his.

a/n if you or someone you know is struggling with abuse please reach out to someone you know, whether it be a friend, family member or adult you trust. I’d only wished i’d done so earlier, i’m here to help and support you guys in anyway I can. You are loved, you are cherished and you are worth it.