#also do you think he blames himself for his broken hand......

[unwillingtoreachout]

thinking about Kevin Day on this awful day

[triglycercule]

ok erm. halloween animation meme lowkey postponed until next year (because i know damn well i'll need a whole year to finish this with my motivation 💀) because i have another much more invigorating and fresh idea that i wanna draw for the mtt. inspired by these 3 fuckass monkeys

[thewritetofreespeech]

Tender Loving Care

pairing: Aemond x Reader

summary: after a training accident, Aemond's wife takes care of him. In more ways than one.

tags: heterosexual sex, cowgirl, massage, hand job, cum eating, cranky Aemond is a good boy for his wife, mentions of the other members of the Green but not present.

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

Training accidents were as common as breathing if one wanted to master the sword.

If one wanted to hold a blade, then one must also be prepared to suffer its bite. Aemond was well aware of this. Even though it was just training, play fighting for the knights & instructors brought in from all over Westeros to teach the prince, he had been cut before. Nothing serious. Nothing like his eye. He wishes it had been. It would make this latest injury less wounding than the others.

A simple misstep, that was all. His own clumsiness was what put him in this bed. His leg wasn’t broken or maimed, but twisted in his fall, to the point that he could put no weight on it. Or at least that was what the maesters said.

2 weeks. That was the punishment for his own mistake. He was not to leave this bed save to relieve himself and the few moments a day he was granted to stand & test his legs progress. Each day was a new torment. Not for the pain, Aemond could handle that, but the failure of trying his leg and only have it betray him again & again. He wondered how his father did it all those years trapped in his bed. Aemond would have begged for death sooner.

“Husband,” the prince looked up from his window and thoughts of limping over to throw himself out of it, when his wife’s voice came into the room.

One of his few constant visitors during his confinement. Helaena came to visit him but was busy with her children. Aegon only came once, to taunt him about his trip more than anything before he left and a back handed ‘get better Aemond the Fierce!’. His mother came as well but flapped between concern and scolding for his ‘recklessness’. She was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for him, though her concern was not needed. Aemond did not wish to feel more like an invalid than he already did. “What is it?”

“It is time to change the bandage on her leg.” To keep it straight. To keep him bound, he thought with a spat, although Aemond arched a brow at the comment.

“Where is the maester?” His wife was many things, but she was no practitioner of medicine nor magic.

She sighed. “Did you really expect them to come back willingly after last time?” Aemond pursed his lips.

Under the best of circumstances, Aemond was aware that he was not the most agreeable person in the realm. Could anyone really blame him? His existence had taught him over & over that it was better to lash out and cut first, lest you be the one who is sliced. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t a mad man like some of his ancestors. And attached to this bed the only weapon at his disposal was his words. He had cursed, jeered, and ranted, honestly uncharacteristic of himself, at the maester who had attended to his leg the day before and had the nerve to tell him his progress was splendid. If it was so splendid then why was he still in this bed? If he was such a great man of knowledge and skill, why hadn’t he healed him yet?! He should go back to whatever dung heap he crawled out of and beg alms for to the gods for wasting a fine Citadel education on an incompetent!!

The prince said a few more unkind things before he forbade any of them from touching him again. He did not think they would take him seriously.

“So, they sent you to do the work of a common barrio healer since they do not wish to do their jobs?”

“I think it was more that they thought you wouldn’t scratch at me. More fool they then, hn?”

Aemond sunk further into his pillows, sulking. He doesn’t mean to scratch at her. He doesn’t mean to scratch at any of them, honestly. He just wanted to get out of his bed and go on with his life. To have the world move on around him, to grow weak and irrelevant in this bed, was the real punishment. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. “…thank you…for helping me…”

“You’re welcome Aemond.”

How quick she was to accept his apology. How quick she was to help him, already coming to his side despite his scratching, when he needed her. No wonder he was always alone….

The prince did what he could for her as he raised his leg from the pillow propping it up and held it there while she unwrapped the old dressing. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” It was not meant as a slight. Just a genuine curiosity on if she knew the proper way to wrap his injury.

His wife just chuckled. “Yes, Aemond. Despite not wanting to come in here on their own, the maesters did instruct me on how to do it properly.” Cowards, he thought. “There! All done.”

Aemond looked at his leg with his good eye and tried to flex at his foot. His nostrils flared at the persistent pain, but it was wrapped correctly. He was impressed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I want you healed as soon as possible as well.” Her hand reached for his on the bed and clasped it. “In fact…I was told of another treatment….one that might help with the…circulation in your leg.”

“Oh?” Aemond was curious about that. Trapped in this bed, his legs were not getting the work out that they normally would. Training aside, the walk around the castle was enough exercise for most lords. He hadn’t been able to go more than a few steps for days. His legs teetered between weightlessness and the sharp pricks of falling asleep all the time. “Will it improve my condition?”

“It….could…” She seemed unconvinced. Avoiding, even. But perhaps that was because the last person who made remarks about the improvement of his condition was threatened to be fed to Vhagar. “Will you let me try it?”

What was there to lose, he thought, and Aemond nodded before he helped her take off his lower bed linens so both his legs were bare. A small vial appeared out from her pocket, and she poured some of its contents onto her hands before rubbing them together and placing them on his leg. “Just…try to relax for me.”

A hefty ask, but he does try. All he could do recently was ‘try to relax’. ‘Rest, my prince’, ‘you need time to heal’. It was all he had heard for the past days, to the point that any word close to ‘relax’ had almost the opposite effect on him. But for her, he does try. For her it worked a little. His shoulders finally untensing. Looking at her in the candlelight. Soft feelings swelling at the touch of her soft hands. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” He answered, almost without thinking. It did feel good. He didn’t realize how stiff his leg was until this moment.

Aemond let out a deep exhale. Not really a sigh, just the release of all the air in his lungs and tension built in his body. His eye closed as he laid back and let his wife work. They aren’t strong, but persistent. He continued to enjoy until he felt her hands shift up higher. Up his calf where his injury was to above his knee. “What are you doing?”

“What??” Her shocked face was particularly adorable in the soft light. Wide, wild eyes. Body frozen save for a soft tremble in her shoulders. “I..I’m rubbing your leg. I told you.”

“My injury is not there though.” He told her logically. Gaze still fixed on her for any kind of reveal.

“I…I know…” Her hands shift to seem to want to move away from him, but she willed them to stay still. “I just thought…maybe there was some other tension I could help you with….”

It was Aemond’s turn to be shocked, but he doesn’t show it on his face like she does. His wife was a lady. A demure, kind, noble one at that. Though she wasn’t nearly as boring & cow eyed as the other noble ladies on offer to him at the time of his betrothal, or so Aemond assumed as he didn’t pay much attention to any of them, boldness like this was not heard of in their marriage. She never denied him. Seemed fond of when they were together; or at least made all the right noises like she did. But it was always he who initiated such acts in their bedroom. To see her offer, and on offer, as he finally took in her appearance and the thin robe she had come to him in, Aemond would not deny that it was quite arousing.

Without another word, Aemond parted his legs further to give her room. If this was her intention, he would not deny her. There was a flush on her cheeks that bleed down her neck towards the V of her robe when he did this. Her resolve seeming to waiver, and disappointment started to drip into his chest at the prospect he may have ruined this too with his terrible attitude, but she continued.

The prince sighed. Gladdened to feel her hands on him again and closed his eye with a newfound desire for his treatment, now that he knew what was going on. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Her coquettish tone was a tonic to his ears. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying touching him and playing with him. His cock jumped as it filled fuller. More aroused by the fact that his wife truly did want him than her hands close, but not close enough, to his member. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Aemond opened his eye and genuinely growled at his wife. Though this game was amusing, enticing, it had been days since he’d found release. Being stuck in this bed did not really spur a person on towards desire. And though she laid with him at night like a good wife she had been spared from her ‘wifely duties’ for some time as Aemond was either still in too much pain from his leg, or unable to move it to perform the act, or in too bad of a mood to make the effort. Having her close. Feeling her touch. It was like the flood gates opened on a dam he had long since locked up and threw away the key on. “Please….”

His kind, noble, demure wife took pity on him, and also took his cock in her hand. Aemond’s head tilted back as he moaned. Her soft hands stroking his member from under his night shirt slowly, deliberately. She had touched him before, so she knew how he liked it, but honestly she could have touched him anyway she liked. Like a clumsy novice that first night they were together, and he still would have melted in her hands.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” Again, without thought. But headier this time. More needy. He opened his eye to look upon his wife and found her staring at him. Those bright eyes darkened with desire. He’d never seen it before; mostly because when they were together her face was either buried in his chest, or shoulder, or in the pillows. Aemond bit his bottom lip hard. Trying not to cum at just the sight of her.

“It’s ok.” She told him in a whisper. Like it was a secret between the two of them. “You can let go husband. Will you let go for me?”

It was the softest command that Aemond had ever heard, and yet it forced him to obey more than any other. His back pressed further back into the pillows as his head tilted back again. His cock spasming in her hand as his seed leapt out from the tip. Covering her hand and perhaps getting some on her pretty robe by her knee. He would have to get her another one.

He opened his eye again after coming down from his high. Just in time to see her lick his seed off the palm of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the royal seed is sacred, is it not?” Her grin was soft, but mischievous. “We should not waste it.”

Aemond’s hand darted out to grab hold of her arm and drag her down to him in a deep, needy kiss. Apparently the flood gates he thought were released earlier were in truth just a leak in the levees. This was when the dam broke now. The need he had for her burning so hot that he could almost taste blood at the back of his tongue, his blood was boiling so hot.

He tried to spread his legs wider to make more room for his wife, but when he moved, he was reminded (painfully) of his injury. “Damnit!” The prince hissed against his wife’s lips. The throbbing in his leg almost in tandem with his cock.

“Sssh…it’s ok Aemond.” He wanted to bite at her soft words.

It was not ok! None of this was ok! He was injured, in pain, stuck in this bed, and now he couldn’t even fuck his wife! He felt useless. He felt angry. He felt humiliated not being able to do things as a man should, and he just wanted to get back to normal!

Before he could tell her any of this, however, his wife pulled back and removed her robe from her body. Mesmerizing in the fire light. No Valyrian alabaster, but still just as dazzling to Aemond. Shift discarded, his wife raised her hips and inched closer to hover them over his own. “The maester said not to move unless absolutely necessarily.” He wanted to argue that laying with his wife was absolutely necessarily, particularly in this moment, but all his words left him on a moan as she lowered herself onto him. “So you just stay there. L-Let me take care of you.” The little stammer in her voice as she started rolling her hips almost sent Aemond into a frenzy, but he endured.

He genuinely couldn’t move with her on top of him like this and his position on the bed. Though why would be want to? For the first time since his accident, Aemond was actually ecstatic to be stuck here in this bed. His wife lovingly impaling herself on his member. Riding him with skill just short of a dragon rider. If he had the wits still about him, he would have chuckled at his own joke. ‘Dragon rider’. As it was though he was stupid with lust. Dumb, witless, helpless at her mercy as she took from him everything and gave him back so much. He still had brains at least to return the favor.

His wife cried out when he reached up to cup her breast. The weight of them in his hands something he missed. Aemond does not get a lot of time to enjoy them, however, as his wife suddenly fell forward. Covering his body with her own. Hips still moving but at a much snappier pace with the depleted gap between them. He didn’t care though. His hands just repositioned themselves on her other mounds at her backside and pressed her to move faster.

“A-Aemond!” Her cries were his music. The tempo in which he set a new rhythm.

The wet sound of their sexes kissing along with their actual kissing fill the room, until it all stopped in one bright, shining moment of his wife shaking on top of him while her fists tried to fight his pillows and he spilled inside her this time.

He wished he could hold her like this for longer. Her weight a comfort, like a blanket, in his arms. But she rolled over onto his non-injured side to lay beside him. It was good enough. “Do you feel better now?”

Aemond looked down at her, having to turn his head completely as to not just look at her with the sapphire in his eye, realizing at last what this was about. Her idea of a good will effort. To lift his spirits and relieve his tension. Maybe keep him from trying to execute more of the maesters in the castle. “Yes. I’m feeling better.”

She smiled, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Good.”

The fingers from the hand around her own shoulders played with her hair as he stared at the ceiling. “Was this all just for me though?”

His wife looked at him with a perplexed look, but then realized what he was asking and blushed. She was smart enough to figure it out. “Not…all of it. I did want you to be in better spirits but…I have missed you.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips ticked up. Pleased, and pleased with himself. He did not think his sexual prowess was worth much compared to his prowess with a sword or strategy. But to hear that his wife wanted him, truly wanted him, was all the praise he would ever need. “So, you came up with this idea to satisfy both of us, ābrazyrys.”

“It wasn’t….all my idea…” Aemond arched a brow at his wife’s words. Curious now where she had got the idea from, as it had clearly come from somewhere. “Aegon commented on your bad mood and how someone should ‘cheer you up’. He gave me the idea, but the rest of it was all my doing.”

Aemond wasn’t sure which comment he was more shocked about. The fact that his brother knew how he was faring in his recovery, or the fact that he made lewd comments to his wife. He was battering between feelings of an odd sense of touched and white hot furry, but he decided to just let it go for now and enjoy his wife. “Well, thank you, regardless. In future I will try not to scratch at you while I am still confined to this bed. Lest you ask.”

She giggled when he kissed the top of her forehead. “And the maesters?”

“They are on their own.” Idiots. “I make no promises on their safety, but I will…endeavor to be of better character in the future.” At least not threaten to feed them to Vhagar. That seemed a reasonable adjustment.

[bbokicidal]

"What is That?" | SKZ | [B.C.]

Notes: Based off of the selfies Chris has sent on bubble in the last few days after their Tokyo concerts - and how he said he acquired the Wolfchan hat. ;]

Warnings: None Genre: Fluff Pairing: Bangchan x Reader Word Count: 900

"...Christopher." The speed at which your boyfriend whips around to face you seems like it should've given the poor man a broken neck. With his cheeks full of sandwich and the food itself tucked into his hands near his chest, dark eyes stare in circular saucers at where you stand in the living room. "What is that?"

"Babe!" He peeps, the word muffled with his mouthful of ham and cheese. "I thought you went out with a few friends for lunch, so I made myself a sandwich." Chris' eyes fall to his hands before he decides to carefully set the food on a small plate lingering on the island.

Your brow cocks in interest. "I wasn't talking about the sandwich."

Wide eyes blinking in confusion, the two of you hold eye contact for a good few moments before his head tips curiously as if asking what you were referring to. Your hand lifts to your temple, the tip of your index finger slowly tapping along your hair. As he swallows down his food, Chris lifts a hand to mimic the action but pauses when he feels something soft that definitely is not his hair.

He realizes then that you were talking about the hat currently tucking down his curls; Grey, fluffy - Wolfchan ears.

"Oh!"

A smile blossoms over your lips. Your arms cross over your chest as if waiting for an answer and your boyfriend doesn't hesitate in beginning to explain. "It's a hat I wore at the concert in Tokyo last weekend when we did our outfits SKZoo themed! Do you like it? Isn't it cute?~"

And you giggle, carefully shaking your head at just how adorable your boyfriend can be. Hard to believe he's the one taking his shirt off at every concert he performs in. "Very. But aren't those wardrobes for concerts only? How'd you get them to let you have it?"

The silence that follows - along with the way Chris' eyes slowly widen one more time - seems to give you the answer you were asking for.

"...Christopher."

Lips rolling in and pursing shortly after, he slumps forward a bit. "I stole it."

"That's what I thought." You chuckle, turning your back to him to continue folding the laundry you'd just taken from the dryer - You know, what you were doing before he decided to make his presence known. "It is very cute though. I can't blame you for taking it."

And with that, you think the conversation would be over. But Chris seems to recognize that there's something still lingering in the air - like words left unsaid floating just above your pretty little head. So he makes his way over until he can wrap his arms around you from behind, fingers teasingly squeezing at your sides. It was a feeling you'd never get tired of; Being cozied up in strong arms and giggling under wandering hands.

"Are you... jealous?"

His teasing accusation makes your shoulders bounce with laughter, and his head bobs along to the motion with his chin resting along the collar of your shirt. You can feel his breath fanning over your ear as he giggles out, "You're jealous I have a cute Wolfchan hat and youuuu don't.~"

Forcing your laughter down in your chest and pursing your lips although they still form a smile, you manage to shake your head. The towel in your hands folds neatly as you regain focus, confident in your words. "No, absolutely not. I'd never be jealous of a silly little hat."

"So..." Chris starts softly, beginning to sway behind you and smiling to himself when you join in on the sweet motion. "You wouldn't be excited if I told you I snagged an extra one for you, too...?"

You pause, dropping the towel down upon the stack already folded before turning to face him with curious eyes. Chris pops a brow and hums out, loosening his hold on you so his hands can rest comfortably along the small of your back. "Mm?"

"Is it also Wolfchan or is it a different character?"

A smile paints plump lips, your boyfriend stepping back so he could bend down and grab the black backpack leaning up against the couch you'd been folding laundry on. It unzips, the sight too beautiful to behold as he plucks out another grey beanie with Wolfchan ears - Yes, another one he secretly snagged just so you could match.

And with grinning, giggly expressions and rosy cheeks, the two of you take a few pictures cheek-to-cheek so he can have a new wallpaper for his phone. Yours too, of course. He also makes a note to send them to the group chat later on, met with the puking emoji from Minho almost immediately in response - then a thumbs up so he knew it was all in good fun.

Though seeing the pictures of the two of you in the group chat made Chris think. Maybe he could post them to Instagram, or send them on his Bubble. Maybe it was time to make things... publicly official.

It's a wandering, shy thought at first, unsure if it's a safe thing to do or if he'll be scolded for it by the company. But he decides it's the right time when he peeks over at you folding laundry still, now wearing the Wolfchan hat with the cute ears poking up from the top of your head.

Yeah. He definitely wanted the world to know you were his.

Tag List : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest @edit-me-prettyplease @butterflydemons @satosugu4l @jeonginsleftcheek

[shiroxichigo]

Ichigo gets a lot of shit (typically from outside of the Bleach fandom) for being a character whose wants/goals never change from beginning to end of his series. He always wants to protect people (and even though I could argue that he went from only wanting to protect those close to him to wanting to protect everyone he can, that's not the point I'm making with this post).

I think a lot of people who only give Bleach a passing glance fail to see Ichigo's true character growth. It's not about what his goals are or who he's trying to protect, but rather, it's about how he achieves it.

Ichigo is very self-sacrificing in the first third of Bleach. He believes that if the mission is successful, then it doesn't matter how broken or close to death he gets. The mission, saving Rukia (and hurting/killing as few people in the process), is all that matters.

Then, when a part of himself (his inner hollow) emerges, and says "hey yeah no, I'm not letting you get yourself killed and I'm also not letting you hold back against your enemy", Ichigo immediately rejects it.

It's not until he defeats his inner Hollow that we see Ichigo really dive into a fight with the intent to kill. The problem is, once his Hollow is defeated, he thinks that's it. He's freed himself of that part of him and he can go back to being self-sacrificing.

We see this throughout the Hueco Mundo arc. It's why saving Orihime parallels saving Rukia. Ichigo naively thinks he can suppress a part of himself. He bottles it up until it explodes, coming back to haunt him in his fight with Ulquiorra, etc. He learns that side of himself isn't so easily tucked away, and if he recklessly endangers himself, he could end up endangering his friends too. At his own hand, no less.

Then Ichigo discovers he can commit the ultimate sacrifice. Final Getsuga Tenshou. He can throw away these powers and the parts of himself that he doesn't like, and he can get rid of Aizen all in one go. He's lucky that it worked, but only because Kisuke was there.

Then, once Ichigo is powerless, he learns that's not what he really wants. Life doesn't "go back to normal". The can is open, and there's danger out there beyond just Aizen. And Ichigo can't do anything to stop it unless he gets his powers back.

So he does. Then he cuts down the threat to his friends and family. And he doesn't hesitate this time. Yes, he still has compassion for his enemies (he even goes to the Soul Society to ask for Ginjo's body so he can give him a proper burial), but he's learned not to hold back and he's learned that new threats will appear and he'd rather have the power to face them head on.

So then comes TYBW, and Ichigo is facing battles head-on without hesitation. He goes straight to the "bad guys" with the intention of cutting them down. He learns the truth about who his Inner Hollow is, and he accepts it. He's even willing to accept whatever consequences may come from training in the Royal Palace and becoming stronger. He accepts his power and potential fully, and learns that he has what it takes to protect his loved ones with his strength, and not with a sacrifice.

Ultimately, he heals the part of himself that thinks his life is worth less than other people's. He heals the part of himself that blames himself for not protecting his mother (when he was 9!! Like come on Isshin, put the kid in therapy!! Anyway...) He grows into someone who knows his self worth. And I think, for me at least, that makes him one of my favourite protagonists of all time. Because can't most of us relate to feeling worthless at times? And don't we also wanna overcome that?

Thanks for reading my ramble lmao, I'm sure this could have been more elegantly written but I'm very sleepy and just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

[animeshotsh]

When I lost you | Young!Silco x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death - Reader is sick - Silco is still not a gang lord - Silco does not want Reader to try any drug - Italics = memories - ANGST - grammar mistakes -

When Silco was alone in his office, when he knew not even Jinx was around his mind liked to go back in time to see memories of a different time, so different that it almost seemed like these were dreams.

He remembers you well. Your face, your body, your eyes, they never once lied to him. You always showed him your true colors and motivations. You wanted a better place, a future, a good place for the next generation. Stop the undercity of being know as a place of crime.

You wanted so much.

"What's on your mind Sil?" You asked one hand under your chin as you studied him.

Once again Silco was thinking on how...how to improve lives, how could he and Vander make the undercity different?

"Nothing important" He had said "Just thinking on how you look today" He added smirking when you blushed at his words.

"Charming, I hope this does not mean you or Vande did something...because your sweet talking wont work on me"

"Doesnt always?" He asked pulling you on his lap making you laught. He smelled your hair and let out a content sound. He liked this, this moment. He wanted to stop time and be here forever.

The silence was broken by a heavy cought from you, one that made you have to stand up to breath the little air you could.

"Are you alright Love?" Silco asked getting closer making circles on your back as he saw how you nodded still breathing hard.

"Yeah, i may get a flu soon" You had dissmissed with a smile

Silco blamed himself. For how he have acted, faster or different, for not getting you out of the mines.

"(Y/N)..." Silco started seeing how you were having a hard time just walking the stairs, he had noticed how you also seemed to be slower, a side comment Vander had said on how you almost got caught on a recent work.

"Im fine" You responded back, trying to ignore the pain on your chest.

Once you two made it to the top you took a big long breath.

"You are not fine. I can see it, Vander can see it, everybody can see it" Silco said getting more frustrated by you

"Then all of them are wrong" You declared, letting yourself fall on your couch. Your eyes starting to close.

"You cant even stay awake"

"I have done much work in the mines. Im just tired"

"Then stop, I can help you, i can provide for you!!" Silco almost screamed

"You know I cant leave, what if i need the dam job later? No one will take me in. Every job out there is managed by them, i cant just leave"

"You are killing yourself"

Silco groaned at that, he wanted to go back and beat up his younger self. It was like his words had set off a curse.

Because less than a week from that talk you ended leaving the mines after collapsing and almost causing a fatal mistake.

Silco entered your home. He went to your room were he saw you reading a old book, pages yellow.

"I got you some medicine" Silco started getting it out from a bag well hided.

"Silco stop, these are too expensive!!" You said again even since he had started to get you different ones but no one seemed to work.

"Shut up, just try it" Silco said passing it to you who took it making a face.

"Its terrible"

"Well its not supposed to teast good, its supposed to cure you" Silco responded going to your kitchen to heat up some soup.

When he returned you were deep sleep. He hoped that medicine was doing the trick.

Saddly it did not.

Weeks passed and Silco saw how you became more and more weak. Pale like a ghost, eyes no longer shining but almost out of life.

"Im dying" you said to him one afternoon "Im dying and you cant do anything about it so stop beating yourself"

Even now Silco felt like your words reached him.

"No, i cant let you die" Silco said hands rubbing his hair

"Uh, i can try that thing they are selling now..."

"No" Silco had say "Next thing we need is you getting addicted"

You rolled your eyes but did agree.

The soft rain from outside was like odd music, for a couple that was seeing its end.

"I love you" You said taking his hand "Im happy i got to live my life with you"

If Silco had know these were going to be your last words he would have given you a better response. More than "I love you" and more than false promises.

He had become what you asked him not to, and while he was making on his own way a better life for the city a part of him hated himself. Hated that he had somehow betrayed you.

"Im sorry" He whispered to no one. "Im so sorry (Y/N).

[lailols]

Cockwarming with TXT

MDNI!

Unprotected sex, kinda dom txt x sub f!reader, breeding kink in jun’s

____________________________________________

Soobin

You guys are having the self-care night that you do every so often. You haven’t seen each other in a while, so you pull out all the bells and whistles. There’s music playing softly as you help each other relax and refresh so lovingly. You gave each other mani-pedis and he even helped you shave.:(

He helped apply your face mask and you crawl onto his lap to help put his on. His hands immediately crawl under your (his) shirt to rest his hands on your hips. Everything’s fine until he tightens his grip and pulls you impossibly closer to him.

“I can’t apply your face mask like this.” You giggle into his chest. “I’m also going to get face mask goo on your shirt if you don’t let me go.”

“I just want to be close to you.” He mumbles and even though you can’t see it, you know he’s pouting.

“I don’t think we can get any closer than we already are.” You place your hands on his shoulders to push yourself back a bit. His hands drift down to your butt tapping twice.

“We could….” He trails off, hoping you get the hint.

“Bin, this is self-care night! A sacred tradition that cannot be paused for sex!” You scold him playfully while repositioning yourself to finish fixing his mask.

“We don’t have to do anything! Just want to be inside you.” He tightens his hold and shifts you onto him. You can already feel him growing hard.

“You promise not to move until we finish?” You say already not believing him. “You’re sure you can handle it?”

“Oh, I can handle it alright.” He scoffs. “Can you?”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Soobin makes quick work of sliding down your panties and opening you up for him. Slipping down his shorts and boxers and easily lifting you to position himself.

As he slides home, you both release a sigh. You close your eyes to adjust and calm yourself. Your walls flutter around him, pulling him in further, further.

“Well, I can’t not move if you’re going to attempt to milk me.”

“I’m not trying to!” You hit his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m not immune to a monster trying to rip me apart.”

“A monster?” He smirks. “You flatter me.”

“Yeah, yeah, hush so I can finish your face mask.”

He does hush and let you finish your work. After that, you each take turns applying a lip scrub. While wiping his off, you see his lips looking so pink and pouty. You can’t help but lean in closer for a peck.

Well…. It was meant to be a peck. You’re not sure who did it, but one of you decided it was meant to be a deep kiss. Soobin makes quick work of sliding his tongue into your mouth and mapping out the already familiar space. You clench around his dick and at that point, can you really blame him for thrusting up?

You both let out moans and… well…. You know what happens next

“You liar!”

“You started it!”

“I did not! I just wanted to kiss you!”

“And what am I supposed to do? NOT fuck you after that? Be serious.”

Yeonjun

When you told Yeonjun he didn’t need to use a condom because you’ve been on the pill for a few months, you didn’t expect him to turn into an omega in heat.

You didn’t expect him to fuck you six ways to Sunday and then some. He’s put you in every position in the book and even added a few you didn’t know existed and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to stop anytime soon.

Right now he’s got you in a classic mating press and his dancer hips are putting in work. You can barely remember your own name and the only sounds leaving you are broken moans. Tears are falling from your eyes but Jun just kisses them away.

“It’s okay, baby.” He pants out. “I’m almost done, just gotta make sure it takes.”

“Huh?”

“Gotta fill you up, okay? Gotta get you pregnant.” And with that, he’s back to thrusting so hard you’re shifting on the bed. And oh, that was kinda hot? It doesn’t even make sense but he said it as if he believed it.

When he’s done (for the time being), he just flips your position and has you rest on top of him with his cock still inside. You go to pull away, but he locks his arms around your waist.

“Stay.” He says with such conviction. “We’re gonna go again in a bit.”

“Jun, I don’t even remember what day it is, what do you mean go again?”

“I already told you what the goal of today is.” Is all he says in reply, pulling you into a soft kiss.

Neither of you can stay still very long with his quickly hardening cock inside of you, so it's no surprise that you start again soon.

Beomgyu

It was originally a bet. Beomgyu wanted to test if he’d be able to focus more on the game with you warming him, and you pointed out how he can’t even handle getting under the desk support. Being the person that he is, he took this as a challenge, and that led you to now.

You’re fully naked, warming his cock while he’s only in a shirt. Headphones on, and pushed as close to the desk as possible so he can reach the keyboard with ease. It sounds like he’s doing fairly well and if it wasn’t for the way he clenched his teeth anytime he wasn’t yelling at his teammates, you’d think he was completely unaffected.

That’s all fine and good, but what about you? You’re bored. You don’t have your phone and you can’t even see the screen. You can only alternate between looking at your bed or Beomgyu’s face/neck.

Really, he can’t blame you for finding a way to entertain yourself, can he? You start small, leaning into the crook of his neck and leaving quick kisses, running your hands up his chest. His arms tighten on your sides, but he doesn’t really react outside of that.

You then move to licking and sucking lightly. Not enough to leave marks, but enough for him to feel it. Once you do that, one of his hands leaves the keyboard to mute his mic and the other finds your waist.

“Be good, and let me finish.” He says tilting his head down to make eye contact with you. “I’ll play with you after, okay baby?”

“I’m not even doing anything.” You pout up at him. “I can’t see the screen and you’re yapping my ears off.”

“Hmm.” He pouts down at you. “And whose fault is that, huh? Keep those pretty lips and hands to yourself and I’ll make it up to you after this game okay?”

“But-“ You’re cut off by one of his teammates yelling at him to move already. Beomgyu fixes you with a look, unmutes his mic, and quickly focuses on his game again.

You figure that since he doesn’t want you to touch him, you’ll just touch yourself. You lean your head back on his shoulder and slide one of your hands between your bodies to rest on your clit. You rub it softly at first and let out a sigh.

The stimulation makes you clench around Beomgyu and he tries to look at you but you don’t move. After a few seconds, he just goes back to the game. Gradually speeding up your movements, you bite your lip to keep your noise down. Your other hand rests on his other shoulder to ground yourself.

It feels, surprisingly, good. Good enough that you’re pretty sure you could come from this alone. You’re so caught up in your pleasure that you don’t realize that Beomgyu hasn’t spoken in a while, you also haven’t heard the keyboard either. The only sounds in the room are your soft sighs and the wet sounds of your pussy (if you realized, you’d probably be mortified).

Just when you’re on the edge of your release, Beomgyu grabs your waist and pulls you completely off of him.

“Why’d you do that?” You ask around a gasp.

“If I knew you’d be such a slut, I wouldn’t have asked you to warm me while I game.” Is his bored reply. “If I hadn’t left the game, everyone would’ve heard you being a needy whore.”

You promptly look away from him.

“Oh, so now you have some shame? I told you I’d make you feel good if you let me finish, but you always need to get what you want, huh?” He pushes you onto the desk and stands. “I can never be nice to you. You always have to be a little brat, huh? Where’s my good girl?

“I am good!” You protest. “I was just bored.”

Yeah, the defense sounds weak even to you.

“Yeah? Well now you’ve got my attention and you’re not gonna like it.” Beomgyu promises with a cruel smile.

Taehyun

You don’t remember who suggested you cockwarm Tae while he writes lyrics, but you think they’re very smart (that alone leads you to believe it was him, but semantics). It’s just another form of quality time between the two of you, but so much more than that at the same time.

You’re resting on your elbows scrolling on your phone while he’s being kneeling behind you (bless his body) as he works. His lyric book is quite literally on your ass so he has a space to work but it’s fine. You can totally do this all the time. If you stumble upon a really good video, you can almost forget he’s inside you completely.

Or, at least your mind can. Your body, on the other hand, cannot. Tae feels you dripping on his knees and the bed. He can feel your walls fluttering around him every so often. And really, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he just let his pretty girl suffer?

Even if you don’t know it yourself, your body is telling him that you need him. He has to do something. And really, he’s been working for nearly an hour, that’s enough time. You’ve been so good for him, it’s time to give you what you need.

He tosses his book onto the floor and pulls you up onto your knees, startling you.

“Tae-?” You can even finish until he’s leaning over to hook his head over your shoulder, reaching so so far into you.

“Shhh baby,” he says sweetly, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I’ve got you. You’ve been so good for me even though you needed me so bad. Let me make it better, hm?”

And now that he mentions it, you’re aware of just how wet everything is. How nice and heavy he feels inside you. How if he doesn’t fuck you in the next few minutes you just might die.

And fuck you he does. He has to reward his baby for waiting so patiently.

Kai

“So, we just… stay like this?” Kai asks from behind you with one of his hands hovering unsure above your naked hip.

“Yeah! And we watch the show!” You say pointing to the anime playing on the tv.

You see, you wanted to try cockwarming while watching anime. It would take a time when you and Kai relax together and make it even more relaxing!

Sadly for Kai, the absolute last thing he feels right now is relaxed. He really doesn’t want to move, but it’s just- it’s hard okay? He has his pretty girlfriend naked and pressed against him. His cock is snug between your walls and it feels good. Of course, it feels good, but it could be better, right?

It wouldn’t even just feel better for him, it would feel better for you too. He waits for a bit to gauge how you’re doing, and it seems like you’re content to remain like this for the show. Kai doesn’t think he can handle that- actually, he knows he can’t.

He starts shifting a bit. Trying to find a comfortable position, until he just decides to just thrust shallowly. It’ll be subtle, right? He could pass it off as finding a good position, right?

With that in mind, he takes a tighter grip on your hip and pulls out just the slightest bit before going back in. And fuck, even just that is leagues better than staying still. You don’t even seem to have realized.

He continues on like that and, oh, has it always been this hard to stay quiet? Maybe it’s the nature of what he’s doing, using you like this while you’re content to watch the show. Is this a kink? It definitely feels kinky. Whatever, he’ll think about it more when he isn’t trying to chase an orgasm.

On your end, you’re thanking every god you can think of that Kai needs you just as much as you need him. From the second he slid inside you, you knew you were done for. So when he started thrusting, you could’ve cried from happiness. As you feel Kai push you nearly to the edge, you grab his hand and move it down to your nub to help you along the way.

“Sorry!” His mouth says, but his body grows more brazen. Now that the facade is gone, he doesn’t have to hold back, right? He can just focus on making you feel good. And he does exactly that. Thrusting harder and rubbing your clit, to push you over the edge.

After letting you ride out your high, he pulls out and flips you onto your back. Not even hesitating to enter you again. It’s okay, you can finish the show later, he needs you. Just take it for him, okay? He’ll make you feel so, so good.

[forhappysake]

"Because I love you."

A/N - Guys I'm really into these sappy pieces recently. Pls feel free to send requests for something else if inspired. Also, I might be doing a pt.3 to Teach Me at some point, I just have to pick where the story is going.

Summary - A showdown with an unsub leaves you in the hospital. Spencer can't help but feel guilty. Could almost losing you push him to confess his love? (spoilers: yes it does)

Warnings - spencer x reader, BAU level violence, some angst on Spencer's part, fluff, and a love confession

You stared down at your hands, battered and bloodied from your futile attempts to fight back. Caught off guard during an interview with a man who was only supposed to be an eye witness,  not the unsub himself, forced you to fight for your life. By the time the neighbors heard the scuffle and called the local police to come to your rescue, you figured you looked like you’d been through seven rounds of an MMA fight. Your head ached, your eye was swollen shut, and you nearly cried in agony with every breath as you were certain you’d broken a rib. 

After a tense standoff with the local police, the unsub was in custody, leaving you on the floor with your many wounds. You managed to stand yourself up and walk out the door to the waiting ambulance, only to collapse into the EMT’s arms. You felt yourself being loaded in the back of the vehicle as they started an IV. As consciousness drifted away from you, you couldn’t help but wonder where your team was. 

***

You awoke in the hospital to the steady sound of your heart monitor beeping and muffled conversation from outside your room. Your bloodied clothes had been traded in for a hospital gown at some point, and your midsection was bound tightly with some sort of bandages, you assumed to keep your rib in place. You managed to open your good eye in an attempt to find the source of those muffled voices. Your eyes landed on Emily and JJ speaking in the corner of the room, voices hushed. 

“He can’t blame himself. None of us saw this coming,” Emily said, her voice stern but laced with concern. 

JJ shook her head. “He feels terrible, Emily. I’ve seen him come in and out of here crying three times in the last two hours. He rarely cries.” 

Who could they be talking about?

Emily looked at the floor in silence, trying to formulate a reply. JJ cleared her voice to speak again. “They’re partners, Emily,” JJ said, “Of course he’s going to blame himself.” 

Spencer. 

Deciding you’d had enough of eavesdropping, you did your best to sit up, only to let out a whimper when a sharp pain pierced your side. JJ and Emily turned to face you, surprised looks on both their faces. 

“Hey, just lay back,” JJ encouraged. She rushed to the bedside, placing a soothing hand on your arm.

“How long have I been asleep?” you asked. 

Emily shook her head, “Only twelve hours, which isn’t very much considering what you’ve been through. I’ll tell the doctors you need another IV and some pain medication.”

As she turned for the door, you shook your head, “Emily, wait.”

Emily turned to face you, coming to stand at the foot of your bed. “What is it?”

“Where’s Spencer?” you asked. Emily looked to JJ, the two of them sharing a knowing glance. You and Spencer had always been close, as partners and friends. 

“He’s been going back and forth between pacing the parking lot and the lobby for hours. I can’t imagine how many steps he’s taken,” Emily joked. “I’ll go get him for you.” With that, she turned and left the room, leaving you and JJ to catch up on what you’d missed in the last few hours. 

JJ explained what happened after you’d passed out: how the unsub was in custody, finding another victim in his basement, and the team realizing that they’d sent you out to interview the lunatic on your own. “We just thought he was going to give you some information about the case. We had no reason to think that he was the one who-”

You shook your head, holding up a hand to stop her. “I didn’t think so either. It’s why I agreed to go alone. Nobody’s at fault.” 

JJ nodded, a solemn look on her face. “I’m just so glad you’re okay. We were all so worried once we connected the dots. I was telling Emily - I haven’t seen Spencer so stressed in years.” 

As if on cue, both you and JJ turned to the sound of rushed footsteps coming down the hallway. Spencer’s tall frame was running (no, sprinting) down the hospital corridor. You felt a small smile tug at the corner of your lips as he burst into the room, hair danging in front of his eyes and clearly out of breath. 

He approached your bedside, leaning down so he could be face-to-face with you. You could only see him with one good eye, but you did your best to smile to show him that you were doing alright. You brought a hand to his face, pushing the fallen strands of hair out of his eyes so you could see him more clearly. “Hello to you too,” you joked. 

“Y/N-” Spencer started, the tears quickly gathering in his eyes, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve gone with you. I should have known that-” 

“That the guy who called into the tipline was actually the unsub? Spencer, be logical. None of us knew. I was just telling JJ, nobody is at fault.”

A single tear fell down his cheek as he examined your injuries. With each scratch and bruise he found, he felt another crack forming in his heart. He hadn’t protected you. Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was your partner. Your best friend. He loved you, that he knew. He’d forced that love to be as platonic as he could make it, trying to avoid ruining your perfect friendship. It was moments like this that made that more difficult than ever, as he tried to reckon with his love and his guilt. 

Your bruised hand was still cradling his face. He could feel the bandages against his stubble, and he cursed himself again. It was only then that the other presence in the room became known to him. JJ stood on the other side of the bed, another knowing smile gently painting her lips. Spencer knew what he had to do. JJ knew what Spencer had to do. He looked at her, his eyes subtly asking her to leave the two of you alone. JJ took the hint with a small nod, leaving the room without another word as you and Spencer continued to examine each other. 

“So, JJ’s filled me in on what I missed,” I said, breaking the silence. “Sounds like a pretty exciting half day,” I joked. 

Spencer shook his head, pulling away from your hand. He didn’t go far, though, intertwining his own with yours as he leaned back from the bed. “I was worried sick,” he said. 

“I can tell, Spence,” you said, trying to prop yourself up with your pillow. “You really shouldn’t have been. You know I always come out of these things relatively unscathed.” He raised an eyebrow at your statement, taking in your swollen and bruised features. “Well… maybe not unscathed. Alive, at least,” you quipped. 

An eerie silence fell over the room. You could feel the tension increase as the gears turned in his head.

“But what if you don’t someday?” he whispered, his voice far away. You looked over at him, his eyes fixed on your heart monitor and the gentle green lines rising and falling accompanied by the signature beep-beep-beeping. 

You squeezed his hand in an attempt to bring him back down to Earth. “I’ll always come back, Spencer. It’s what you and I do. We come back alive for each other.” 

The tears that had pooled in his eyes earlier spilled over his cheeks as he let out a small whimper. He leaned down, gently wrapping his arms around you as he wept. “Hey, it’s okay Spencer,” you tried to calm him. 

“No, it’s not. It-it’s not because,” he trailed off. You could still feel his shoulders shaking as he cried. 

“Why, Spencer?” you asked once more. “Please, you can tell me anything.” 

Suddenly his sobs slowed. He pulled back from your embrace, taking in your features. Bruised and battered as you were, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He felt like his heart was going to explode. Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, the words came tumbling out. “Because I love you,” he said simply. 

Your jaw dropped open at his words. While you should’ve seen this coming, nothing could prepare you for the way your heart jumped. If it wasn’t evident from the expression on your face, the heart monitor picked up its beeping, nearly doubling its pace. The sound wasn’t lost on Spencer, who frantically looked at the screen.

“Oh no,” he mumbled, quickly walking to the monitor. “Did I upset you? I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve just felt this way for so long and if I keep pretending like I don’t-”

“Spencer,” you cut him off, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in minutes. “I love you too.” 

The look on his face was priceless, and you wished you could have taken a picture, but you did your best to engrave it on your brain forever. His brown, teary eyes brightened in a moment, a glimmer of hope shining from within. “You do?” he asked. 

You laughed, allowing your head to fall back on the pillow behind you. “Spencer, I volunteer to work with you during nearly every case. We split a room every week. I only wished that you’d said this sooner so we could’ve split the bed, too.”

He stared at you in shock. The tears in his eyes long forgotten as a smile crept on his face.

A soft laugh left his mouth as he leaned down to you once more, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, careful to avoid any injured area. “Well, I promise that next time we can,” he said. “And,” he started once more, “I’m never letting you go anywhere by yourself again.”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers over his own. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[legobiwan]

This is such a telling page for Ford. Not only does he detail his social missteps and admit to being lonely in Gravity Falls, despite the scientific wonder of the place, but he also uses what I call "Fordese 2," a scrambled version of the "Fordese 1" code we were first introduced to in Journal 3 to label himself a "six-fingered freak" and to state that "Stanley would have made her laugh." (Her, being the waitress Ford tries out his nerdy science joke on, which goes down like a lead balloon despite the fact that it is legitimately funny, given the right audience).

It's like Bill says. "Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated..." (Funny enough, Bill could probably turn those exact words on himself, as well.)

Ford so wanted Gravity Falls to be the place where he'd finally fit in, the puzzle to his misshapen puzzle piece.

And as we see in the missing Journal pages from BoB, that was not to be the case. And worst of all? Ford blames it on his hands at first, but the reality is that he says that "Stanley could make her laugh," meaning Ford's "freakishness" (as he would put it) has less to do with his six fingers and much more to do with Ford's personality and the way he interacts with others.

This is actually worse. Fingers, you can fix, if you want to. By the time you're an adult, most people probably wouldn't care. But to Ford, his fingers seem to be more a manifestation of something internal, something he feels is fundamentally broken about him and that's just the absolute worst hell to be stuck in.

So yeah, it's hardly surprising Ford fell so hard for Bill's shenanigans (and you can define "fell so hard" however you want, although that karaoke page in BoB is especially damning). Here's an interdimensional being who not only can guide you to unlocking the secrets of the universe and propel you towards scientific fame and glory (and thus shoving every taunt, invective, side-eye, and eye roll ever hurled at you over the decades down your tormentors' throats) - but he's (on the surface) completely glib about being a freak himself.

For Ford, this must have been like finding a shady, sparkling oasis after thirty years of trawling through the desert (especially after Stanley's "betrayal" - Stanley, who along with Fiddleford, being the only person Ford felt like he could be himself around and still be accepted as a human being).

Now, is Bill trying way too hard to show how much he doesn't care? Uhhh, yeah. Bill has almost the same hangups as Ford. Labeled a freak for a genetic mutation and ostracized by his peers. Has a rare gift in that he can see not only into the third dimension but can see even past that, into possible dimensions and futures, which is a wild skill to have. Compare this with Ford's gigantic science brain and academic overachievement. Same deal. And not only this! Bill, in an attempt to prove what he can do with his "freakishness," to prove his worth and place in the universe - he tries to show off something to the denizens of his dimension (we don't know yet what Bill did), only to end up slaughtering his entire dimension. Ford was a hair's breath away from doing the exact same thing with the portal. Because we know from Journal 3 that part of his motivation is to be famous and get accolades for his work, and that maybe "girls will finally talk to me." (Which, Fordsy, let's be real here - I don't think you're actually into these "girls" for real, but you want the acceptance that comes with fitting in with societal standards, and getting a state-sanctioned girlfriend is exactly the type of thing Ford would want to make himself feel "normal.")

Anyway, the point being that if Ford had succeeded with his initial portal attempt, he would have basically wiped out his own dimension. Just. Like. Bill. And it makes you wonder - yeah, yeah, Bill wanted to party, Bill needed out of the Nightmare Realm, Bill's a psychopath who enjoys destruction.

But honestly? I think part it all was that Bill wanted someone like him. His own puzzle piece. Another monster. A being whose collateral damage in the quest to justify their existence in this universe ends in wholesale slaughter.

And Ford had the capacity to easily fit that mould.

[ladykailitha]

So I saw this on Facebook and thought it would make a great Steddie fic.

Now the jewelry screams Eddie, but I think that this is bouncer Eddie and drunk Stevie, having been broken up with for the hundredth time and just wanting to get blackout drunk.

Modern AU. Robin is off visiting family when this happens and strictly forbade him from going out. But Steve is out of ice cream and fucks to give so he goes out.

He gets steadily more wasted as the night goes on. He's not even flirting with the hot bartender Chrissy. Which she thinks should feel insulted by, but just really feels sorry for him.

He's a weepy drunk and it's not long afterwards that she cuts him off before he scares off her tips.

She calls over one of their bouncers to get this guy out from under her bar.

Eddie lopes over and picks him up.

They try to get ahold of some of his other friends but they aren't answering, which considering it's well after midnight, Eddie really doesn't blame them for.

But he has a hot mess on his hands and no place to stash him. So he talks to his boss who lets him off early to take care of Steve. Who is definitely NOT sober enough to tell him his address and because he's been kicked out by his girlfriend his wallet really doesn't help (he had been staying at Robin's).

So Eddie takes him home and of course about half way up the stairs to his apartment, Steve empties his stomach EVERYWHERE. All over Eddie's boots, the stairs, but most importantly all over himself.

He manages to make it to his apartment and carefully strips him down to his underwear and socks, removing everything including some small jewelry. He throws the clothes in the washer and then sets about cleaning up any vomit that might still be on the guy and tucks him into bed.

Then he goes about cleaning the vomit up from the hall, he cleans his boots and sets them to dry on the balcony.

Then Eddie starts preparing for the this poor guy's inevitable hangover. Painkillers and water on the nightstand, phone plugged in with a spare charger he had. Wallet and keys next the jewelry in the drawer.

He puts some warm clothes in the top drawer of the dresser, towels on the toilet seat, and making sure there is coffee ready to be brewed for the guy when he wakes up.

Then he goes to sleep himself and wakes up to find the guy still out cold and he has to go to his day job. He feeds Dio his breakfast and takes him out to do his business, but when he comes back and still the guy hasn't woken up. So he types up the note and sets it on the nightstand over top of the guy's phone and heads out.

Two hours later, Steve wakes up to find the worst hangover he's ever had and that includes to the time Robin and Steve decided to do a drinking tour of the world and didn't know you were supposed to spit out after tasting.

He also almost naked and is really freaking out, hoping he didn't have some one night stand because Robin would murder him a second time, after killing him for going out when she told him not to.

Then he sees the note and his heart melts a little at being taken care of then immediately kicks up to 100mph when he realizes who his rescuer is.

The hot bouncer he flirted with the get in the club in the first place.

Shit, shit, shit.

He really needs to leave and needs all of his stuff before he can do that so he reads the note again and re-reads the last paragraph again and again.

Shower, Netflix and doggo? Hmm...

He doesn't work today, that's why he went out drinking in the first place. He could call an Uber to meet him at the main street in the note...

Or...

He could spend the day in comfort and security for once in his life.

He takes the second option and has a lovely time with Dio and messaging Robin.

She's still going to murder him but she's glad he's safe.

Then the owner of said apartment shows up and Steve is really glad he stayed.

They order in and get to know each other a bit more and when he finally gets back to his car and home, he's got a name and a number with the possibility of a date.

Robin absolutely hates his luck. Even more so when she meets Eddie because he's perfect for Steve.

It becomes her funny story at their wedding two years later.

[gnomewithalaptop]

Y'know, it's so funny to me when people make out like Tim Drake would keep files on how to take down his friends when Tim has explicitly said he disagrees with Batman on this:

[Young Justice (1998) #36]

Like, yes, during his Red Robin tenure he does make a Hit List full of contingency plans for known heroes. But if you go and read that, you'll notice that, while the Justice League and Damian may be on there, Tim's own friends are decidedly absent:

[Red Robin (2009) #14]

In fact, a lot of these heroes are people that have either (a) attacked Tim specifically, (b) have a track record that includes turning evil/getting mind controlled, or (c) are on the JLA (meaning Batman probably already had those files compiled and Tim just stole them).

So yeah: Tim's not down with contingency-planning for his friends. You know which one of the YJ crew DID agree with Batman though? My favorite blorbina Anita Fite, aka Empress:

[Young Justice (1998) #36]

But yeah, this contrast is honestly fascinating to me. Because while both Anita and Tim have been shown to be incredibly loyal individuals, this exchange really highlights the fact that, between the two of them, Anita is far more likely to engage in this kind of pragmatism when she thinks it's necessary to get the job done

The whole Our Worlds at War arc actually does a really good job of illustrating how both of them react to betrayal from within. It's not just the Batman Files conflict either -- I'm thinking specifically about the hallucination-based torture Granny Goodness put them through, which showed them their worst fears. Most of the team ended up having to watch their loved ones die, but what's super interesting to me is that we really only see Anita and Tim hallucinate that their loved ones blame them for their deaths:

[Young Justice (1998) #37]

Like. It's not the same as a teammate turning evil at all. But it does give us a good idea of how they'd both react when faced with a friend or teammate doing harmful things, albeit on a smaller scale. Because where Tim kind of just accepts Superboy yelling at him and moves straight into bargaining for Kon's life, Anita actually flips the script, gets angry, and defends herself against her father:

[Young Justice (1998) #37]

(she actually gets so righteously pissed off that she manages to break out of the VR simulation Granny Goodness had her trapped in, but that's another point)

But yeah, it's super interesting, because by this point, both Anita and Tim have been set up to be very similar characters. They both can be a little bit obsessive, they both have some issues with boundaries and stalking (Tim with Nightwing and Batman, Anita with Cissie), and of the team, they're both portrayed as the "normal" members (Anita does technically have mind control powers but she barely ever uses them, and in a fight, she's basically just a very good, human-level fighter)

But at the end of the day, though Batman forces Robin to put on a cool front of objectivity, Tim (at least in his pre-grief-spiral era) ultimately wants to see the best in his team. When the people he cares about screw up, he wants to give them second chances. And when that trust gets broken, his first instinct is to try to use diplomacy, or, failing that, simply remove himself from the situation (as we see at the end of the Our Worlds at War arc when he quits the team)

Anita, on the other hand, while still incredibly loyal, does not hand out that loyalty unconditionally. We see this when she tries to keep her identity secret from the YJ squad, we see it when she gets pissed in Granny Goodness's hallucination when her father blames her for her mother's death, and we see it when she later blames Secret for her perceived role in Anita's father's death

Anita also happens to sit right smack dab in the middle of the YJ morality scale; while she's generally pretty chill and willing to abide by typical superhero codes of ethics (unlike Slobo and Secret), she's also been shown to bend those rules when she believes it's necessary (as seen here when she tortures and threatens to kill a man for trying to hurt Cissie). Ultimately, what this means is, between Tim and Anita, it's honestly Anita who'd probably be the most willing to put her personal qualms aside, buckle down, and go against her loved ones if it was the only reasonable option

Anyway. This is a really long-winded way of saying I think Gun Batman's biggest nemesis should be Empress

[taesanrot]

[heavy] sunghoon x f!reader | 2.1k words exes to lovers, second chance, angst syn. ever since you broke up with your long term boyfriend, park sunghoon, he's been heavy on your mind. foolishly, you try to move on, but seeing him at a party reminds you why you can't let him go. note. i've been wanting to start a series based on songs i've been listening to recently! this is the second and hopefully not last fic in this collection lol. also this was kinda supposed to be a implied college au but im now realizing the setting is kinda vague so imagine it as you like :)

now playing: heavy by the marías

"cause i don't wanna be in love with another, even in another life."

sipping your drink, you wished so dearly to drown out the memories that played in your head like a broken record.

you were fine. everything was fine. you told yourself what you told everyone.

you were done with park sunghoon. it was for the better.

but even the loud drunken screams from your friends and the even louder music at this party couldn't make the words in your head stop playing over and over. you closed your eyes and tilted your face to the ceiling.

...

"let's go our separate ways." your emotionless voice contrasted with your tear streaked cheeks.

"y/n, what? what do you mean?" sunghoon's voice shook with confusion.

"i mean, let's break up."

"break up? baby i'm not breaking up with you over this." he stepped forward to grab your hand but you just crossed them in front of your chest.

"i'm tired of fighting! we're clearly not right for each other." your voice almost broke at the end, making sunghoon want to cry.

"couples fight all the time, you know we've both been really stressed lately, let's talk about this another time. when we're both feeling better." he tried and tried to reason with you, but your mind was set, and both of you knew that.

...

you felt stupid, then and now. it had been one month since you'd last seen your ex boyfriend, and you were a wreck. foolishly, you'd blamed everything going wrong on him, thinking that getting rid of your relationship would alleviate your stress. but sunghoon left a gaping hole in you, and suddenly it was like you were frozen.

the pain was unbearable, bu you were stubborn. you kept your head up, moving through night and day. you were a shell of yourself, but you were still standing.

you began to go out, your friends dragging you out of your apartment in an effort to cheer you up.

you tried and tried to move on. but talking to other guys made you feel sick. they didn't have his fluffy hair, his cute and pointy smile, or his pretty voice.

tonight was the same, you nursed a drink in your arms as you tried to forget everything.

"what are you thinking about, pretty?" you opened your eyes, nearly dropping your drink in shock as you turned towards the voice. you were face to face with a taller boy. he had dark hair and even darker eyes.

"nothing." you weren't going to get into your ex with a random guy at a party.

"i'm jisung, by the way." you smiled slightly as he introduced himself, trying to be polite. he seemed sweet enough, but you wished you were doing anything but talking to a flirty guy right now.

"i'm y/n." you replied, struggling to maintain your sanity and composure with the alcohol flowing in your veins. you kept up conversation for a bit longer, making an excuse that your friend was sick so you could finally make your escape.

finding your best friend, yunah, you tapped her shoulder to get her attention away from the music.

"y/n? what's up?" she grabbed your hand as she spoke, swinging it back and forth drunkenly. you smiled, gesturing to the back door.

"gonna go sit outside, need some air." she nodded and waved as you walked away.

what neither of you saw was sunghoon. he'd arrived not more than 15 minutes ago, with his friends jake and heeseung.

"dude, is that who i think it is?" jake blurted the moment they walked through the door. the 3 boys watched you talk to some taller guy with dark blue hair. sunghoon wished he didn't care, but truthfully he couldn't look away.

you were beautiful, wrapped in a black dress. you always looked angelic to him, always making his stomach burst with butterflies.

looking at you right now, his stomach was burning with a different emotion. he was green with envy watching another guy flirt with you when you should've been with him. the only thing that quelled his dread was the look on your face. he could see from miles away how uncomfortable you were, arms crossed tensely and face painted with a fake smile, one that didn't reach your eyes.

sunghoon wanted to be a respectful ex-boyfriend. he didn't contact you. he gave you your space after your breakup, even though he knew how stupid your fight was. he loved you, enough to respect what you wanted.

but watching you duck away from the blue haired boy and walk out the back door, sunghoon couldn't stop himself. he downed the rest of his drink, wincing at the burning feeling his throat before pushing through the crowd to get to the back door.

the night air soothed the growing dread within you a bit, but you were still left with a nauseating feeling. the same one you always felt when you talked to guys that weren't him.

slumping against the fence, you held your head in your hands, combing your fingers through your hair roughly. dizzily, you crouched on the ground, wishing you could just disappear. or even better, teleport to your bed.

“y/n?” your reaction was delayed as you slowly searched for the source of the voice.

in all his glory, park sunghoon stood before you, looking down at your crouched figure with concern.

“god, sunghoon. what are you doing here?” you groaned, sincerely wishing you were just hallucinating all of this. wishing that the first time you were seeing your ex boyfriend since the breakup wasn’t when you were a drunken mess.

god, today was seriously the worst.

crouching next to you, he reached out a hand to move some of your hair from your face. he leaned in front of you so he could see your face, while you stubbornly trained your eyes at the ground.

you were scared that if you even made eye contact with him for too long, everything would fall apart.

“are you okay? how much did you drink?” he spoke softly, his voice melting in your ears and warming your chest.

you wanted to cry, throat tightening at the feeling of him doting on you. you didn’t say anything, just nodding.

sunghoon could tell you didn’t want to be there just as much as he didn’t. normally, on a night like this, the two of you would be watching a movie together or baking or just laying in his bed and scrolling through one of your phones.

“do you wanna leave?” he asked, hand falling onto your shoulder and rubbing small circles. you nodded again, pushing your hands on the ground to stand up. you didn’t let sunghoon help you as he stood up, stumbling slightly as you stood up fully.

as the two of your walked out the back entrance, you looked at the boy in confusion as he began walking in the same direction as you.

“i’m not leaving you alone out here, let me make sure you get home.” you looked back at the ground, mumbling back a small okay and thank you, trying to ignore the words threatening to spill from your lips.

the walk to your apartment was filled with a thick silence, the only audible noises being the hum of the streetlights. A rough gust of wind caused your skin to fill with goosebumps, the cold breeze hugging your frame.

sunghoon noticed, almost quicker than you did. wordlessly, he dropped his leather jacket over your shoulders. you knew you should protest, but to be truthful, you missed him more now than ever.

when you didn't say anything or move at all, sunghoon stepped in front of you, gently unwrapping your arms and putting them into the sleeves of his jacket for you.

you stared at the cracked sidewalk, heavy tears threatening to fall from your eyes. his jacket was warm, and so big that you were practically swimming in it. his hands were warm too. and so was his voice, as he softly asked you if you were feeling less chilly.

you still refused to utter a word, not out of stubbornness but out of fear that your voice would betray you. after everything you did, after how bad you hurt him, sunghoon was still here, walking you home and taking care of you like he always did. like nothing had changed.

"y/n." sunghoon spoke a little louder, tilting your chin up so you looked him in the eye. "i said are you cold?"

the end of his question died in the back of his throat as your teary eyes came into view. he dropped his hand, eyebrows furrowing with worry.

"hey, hey, what happened?" his voice instantly softened. you couldn't do anything but shake your head, the tears finally trailing down your cheeks. sunghoon's thumb made contact with your cold cheek, wiping away the tears as the fell.

"y/n, please, tell me what's wrong." he almost sounded defeated, voice laced with concern that made you want the earth to swallow you whole. your chest ached.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, hoon." his head tilted in confusion at your apologies. he opened his mouth to respond.

"why are you apologizing?" you sniffled, tears still wetting your pink cheeks.

"im so stupid. i pushed you away because i just hated fighting and i thought that was the only way to make things better. but i can't-" you voice broke slightly and you took a second to breathe in. your eyes were screwed shut, refusing to look at sunghoon.

"i can't see myself with anyone else. i don't want to see myself with anyone else. any guy i talk to i just compare to you and it makes me feel sick. i know i can't but i've been trying so hard to move on because i'm scared that you hate me for hurting you and being so dumb." when you slowly opened your eyes, sunghoon pulled you into his chest.

your cheek was pressed against his white shirt, tears wetting the fabric as he held you tightly. he shoved his face into your hair, breathing in and relishing the feeling of you in his arms again.

"sunghoon?" you asked, voice muffled by his chest.

"i could never hate you." he mumbled into your hair. he pulled away and you saw him smiling, eyes crinkling as he tucked a strand of your hair away and wiped the last of your tears. your nose and cheeks were red both from the cold and from crying; sunghoon thought you looked adorable.

"for the past month haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. about us. how i should’ve fought harder to make you stay.” he laughed dryly as he spoke. “the only reason i even went to that party was because i might get to see you again.”

more than anything, it warmed sunghoon’s heart to see how much you still cared for him. all this time he was scared he was the only one still hung up on your relationship.

“i love you so much, i don’t care if we fight or if we go through a few rough patches. i only want you.” his voice softened slightly and he looked at you like you were the only two people in the world.

“you’re not mad at me?” you mumbled, hand crinkling the fabric of his tshirt as you clutched his side. shaking his head, he grinned.

“why would i be? you came back to me.” you smiled for what felt like the first time that night, hand instinctively covering your face. sunghoon pulled your hand down, wanting to see your shy smile. he loved when you were like this, shy and bashful. it made his heart nearly explode in his chest.

“can i kiss you?” he asked, intertwining your hands. you nodded gently, closing your eyes as sunghoon leant closer to you.

his lips were warm and soft, just like you remembered. your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, molding to each other perfectly. sunghoon’s arms slipped under his jacket that you were still wearing, hands wrapping around your bare waist.

you were flush against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your skin and his teeth sink into your bottom lip. as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, you swore to yourself that you’d never let park sunghoon go again.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x half-blood fem!reader

Summary: You comfort your darling boyfriend after an overwhelming sight at your muggle grandparents' house.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluffy, blurb

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of hunting, taxidermy animal head, crying, Jamie is sensitive <3

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You were beyond pissed at your parents.

You had told your mom, hoping she'd understand considering she was also raised in a sheltered pure-blood family, that James was sensitive and that he didn't have many experiences with muggles or muggle culture.

It hadn't crossed your mind to mention that your boyfriend was an animagus, or that he could turn into a stag, because why would you? You hadn't seen your muggle grandparents in a while, and you would have never imagined the new decor in their living room to be a taxidermy stag head in their living room!

Your grandparents don't even hunt!

"What's up his ass?" your oldest cousin asks smugly. He's standing next to you as he blows smoke from the corner of his mouth and he holds up his cigarette to his lips.

Your family had watched with pure confusion as your poor boyfriend sprinted outside, his complexion pale and his eyes watery. 

You cover your mouth, coughing from the smoke as you swat the air and your cheeks burn from embarrassment and anger. 

Without answering your cousin, you run to the entrance and shrug on your coat, grabbing James's as well. It's early October and it's chilly outside, you don't want James to catch a cold.

You slip on your boots and leap into the backyard, calling out for your boyfriend. "James!? Where are you?" you sound distraught as you look around for him frantically. 

You sprint into the woods behind the house, wondering if perhaps he'd disappeared there. When you see a shadow sitting in the grass not far into the trees, your heart breaks. 

"Oh, Jamie," you whisper and walk up to him. 

You kneel and drape his coat over his shoulders. Carefully, you sit next to him, holding him. "I'm so sorry. If I had known then I would have never—" you start, soothing a hand up and down his arms but your sentence quickly dies when James leans his head into your lap and you see tears roll down his reddened cheeks. 

"His eyes were so lifeless," he mutters, his voice broken. 

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry," you try and soothe, chewing on your lip. James moves his arms around you and sniffs a little. He sounds so weirdly vulnerable in your arms and it's so different from the James you usually see. 

Always so sure of himself. Always so brave. 

This reminds you of the few times you'd seen your boyfriend cry, but somehow this was still different. This time his tears made your chest hurt because you are partially to blame.

"I knew muggles have those in their houses sometimes. I mean, wizards and witches do too I think—I just didn't think I would see one," James continues and squeezes his eyes shut, "It just looked so dead." 

You smooth a hand in James's curls and press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so sorry," you say, "I told them not to ruin this for me. I told them and they didn't listen. They don't even hunt, James. I don't know why they had that—"

James sniffs, sitting up, and wipes his hand under his nose. "It's okay, I'm being a baby. It isn't your fault and I don't think any less of your family."

You shake your head and cup his cheeks. "No, no, you're not a baby. You're a sweet, sensitive boy, and that's one of the reasons I love you so so much."

James chuckles and pushes some hair behind your ear, "So, you don't only love me for all my manly rugged charm?" he jokes, leaning his forehead on yours. 

You laugh. "Not only, no," you tease and look into his eyes. 

"Can I kiss you?" you ask. 

James's smile finally widens and he nods, letting you kiss his lips. It's sweet and calming and the only sounds around you are your lips on his and the birds in the trees. 

He pulls away and licks his lips, tasting the remnants of your cherry lip gloss. "Can we stay here for a moment longer before I do the inevitable walk of shame back to your house?" 

You caress his cheek. "We can stay here as long as you'd like. I don't wanna go back in there and face them all either."

And so, you and James stay outside until the sky turns pink and dim and you hear your parents concerned shouts of your name in the distance.

[lxvebun]

kiss it better!

synopsis: you know better than to try and hide your wounds from them, however small it may be know that they are more than ready to take care of you. Aka jjk boys caring for your injuries

buns notes: I had a part for Gojo and Nanami as well but found myself getting stuck on it. Perhaps they'll come later but for now enjoy Geto and Sukuna♡.

content:Geto/Sukuna x gender neutral reader. fluff/hurt comfort. Soft Defect/cultish!geto (idk what to call it jejjd just canon suguru) canon violence. Blood. Lovesick/soft ish sukuna as always🤭. Not entirely proofread I am sleepy. Eng is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes!!

Suguru

"Did you really think you could hide that from me, my darling?" Suguru coos. His voice deep and honeyed, overly thick and sweet as he tries to swallow down the urge to demand, to interrogate the cause of the gash on the side of your forehead.

It would do you no good to see that side of him, especially in this state you're in. Trying to hide the tiny rivers of blood trickling down your face, droplets sinking into the wooden floors beneath your feet. He doesn't want you to feel a sliver of fear anywhere near him.

And he's good usually at maintaining his composure. Even if his mind is already twisting into something darker and cruel. but God, the thought of someone, whether Human, Sorcerer, or curse hurting you makes him physically sick. The blood pooling in his mouth from biting his tongue does not help either.

"I'm okay, Suguru." you breathe out, a little labored, not necessarily from the dull ache on the side of your head.

You're not afraid of him, could never be, he's good to you and you see how hard he tries. Fragments of a younger, more carefree suguru slipping through at times. But something twists in your gut as the sparkle fades from his eyes and his gaze zeroes in on your injury. You know what goes on in his head. Thoughts as black and dark as spilled ink swallowing up all the light that left unless he pulls back quick enough. It's a venomous spiderweb that's hard to get out of

Fortunately, he does. Your voice luring him back almost like a Siren's whisper, from what's going on inside his head.

It takes him a few seconds to orientate himself. A few deep breaths and fluttering of eyelashes before he can tear his gaze away from the cut and look into your eyes.

Gentle and careful hands slide under your jaw. His tumb wiping away some of the blood. Rough hands still feeling light and safe. As if he were cradling a bird with a broken wing in his hands. 

(it makes you melt a little more into him.)

It's not a deep cut, not deep enough for stitches at least. It may leave a light scar unless he gets someone to heal it for you. Then again, you have refused that option in the past, trying to maintain somewhat of normality in your life

He can't blame you for that, but he's also not sure what to do..

"Tell me what you need, my darling." It comes out a little desperate

(As if he might succumb if you don't tell him what you desire right now)

"Help me clean up," you begin, knowing he wants to be with it every step of the way. To nurse you back to health "and then you can kiss it better for me while we watch some movies, hmm? :)"

He closes his eyes for a second, your head still cradled in his hands, his touch a bit more relaxed, a little less delicate but still comforting. And then he opens them again, a gentle smile playing on his lips, and the sparkle in his eyes reignited.

He's back

(If he notices the way your shoulders relax, he doesn't comment on it.)

"Of course, my love"

Sukuna

You know better than to hide your injuries from him. It would be foolish of you to even attempt to deceive him. You're part of him now, intertwined into his soul. He's mapped out every little detail of you. He picks up on the slightest shifts in your mood and tone. Hears the hitch in your breath if something surprises you, knows exactly how you achieved the seemingly random bruises on your legs and has memorized the healthy beating pattern of your heart. So even before you pushed open the heavy wooden doors to his chambers, he could hear your labored breathing and smell the blood staining your skin..

His voice booms around the chamber, as you finally open the door. It's loud and aggrivated. Shaking the walls. Dripping in venom and laced in a desperation only you'd be able to pick up on as he calls out Uraume's name. The sight of you bloodied and teary eyed is almost enough to make him fall to his knees. You don't know that his heart has molded into the shape of a chapel dedicated to you. Filled with every little detail of you. brimming with gold and laced with utter adoration and devotion. He'll kneel until his spine breaks and his knees crack against the floor below him if you'd just tell him who could possibly dare to do this to you

He lifts you up and carries you to his bed before his knees give out under him. His grip a little too tight, a little too bruising even for those few seconds. Afraid you'd slip right out of his arms if he doesn't hold you close enough. You can basically feel the blood boiling in his veins, turning into rivers of lava under his skin.

He doesn't make eye contact as he gently lays you down on the bed.

(Perhaps because you've always been good at reading him, perhaps because he'll fear what he'll do if he catches sight of anymore blood)

.....

The gash on your side is healing nicely, thank Uraume for their steady hands. Sukuna would have done it, but all his eyes would have focused on would be the blood staining your robes, trickling out of the wound in steady flows and your teary eyes. He wouldn't have been able to keep his touch delicate enough to heal you properly. Too engrossed in the thoughts of punishment and cruelty to keep the violence from bleeding into his touch. He'd never forgive himself if he'd hurt you. Even accidentally.

(He lost control once in the heat of passion. Kissed you a bit to roughly with sharpened teeth. It's nothing compared to what he can do. He is the king of curses after all. God to some, an abomination of nature to most. Still, He filed them down ever since.)

He made sure to stay and watch before he goes out and track down the filth that did this. He trusts Uraume, undoubtely so, but he wants to see Your wounds disappear and the blood wash off of your skin with his own eyes

Healing someone with a curse technique feels similar to getting stitches as the skin gets closed back together. He knows it's normal but Hells, every flinch, every little twitch you make as the skin heals make his hands itch to dig into the chest of whoever did this to you, ears already ringing at the begs and pleas for mercy and he personally deals with the parasite that dared to put their hands on someone even the king of curses himself bows down to.

How incredibly foolish of them.

"Well, that should be it" Uraume's voice snaps him out of his trance. He watches as they bow down to you, even after many many times of you telling them they don't have to and turn to him. "I'll go get some clean robes" bowing down once more, and leave the chambers.

The room falls silent again. He's becoming a little restless. Eyes trailing over your form before glancing at the door, going back and forth between you. Trying to decide what his next move should be

"Stay, please". You whisper. The adrenaline gone from your body

You make up his mind for him.

He's on you the second those words left your lips. His anger leaving him...for now. He keeps it at the back of his mind. Your wishes are more important than seeking revenge. Revenge can wait. You don't have to

He asks you how you're feeling as he wraps his arms around you, cradling your head to his chest as he lays down on the bed next to you. You make the mistake of being truthful

"Its a little sore-"

he's up again before you can even finish your sentence, ignoring the whine falling from your lips as he removes his arms from around you

"There should be some freshly gathered herbs in the kitchen today" he begins as lines it to the door

"Sukuna-"

"I can concoct something that should dull the soreness in a heartbeat-" his hand already on the door handle

"Ryomen."

He stops abruptly. Turning to look at you over his shoulder. Keeping his hand against the door. Waiting for you to finish your sentence

"I don't want a herbal concotion"

His brows furrow together, surprisingly cute for a being like him. He turns to you fully, slowly pacing back to the bed

"What is it that you desire then, my love?"

He almost sounds nervous, eyes wide and eager to hear of your demands so he can fullfill them. "Is there another potion you'd like, do you-" he begins to ramble again. You cut him off

"I think a kiss would be sufficient enough actually, my lord~♡"

His words die in his throat. Worry melting into a more stoic expression as he looks at you with what you can only describe as 'are you serious' Your laugh at the shift in his expression, gods that beautiful angelic sound, quickly breaks his into a gentle smile. Heart calming down.

"If thats what you need who am I to refuse?"

You look more than content, a state he wants to keep you in forever, as he leans over you on the bed. Matress bending under his weight as he places one hand next to your head, the other slowly cuping your face as he dips down to lock your lips with his

(He could kiss you forever, if you'd let him)

"Better?"

He doesn't bother to pull away, instead choosing to speak against your lips. Eyes soft and breath hot against you.

"I think I need a higher dosage actually~♡"

RAAAA thank you for reading angels!!♡

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (8/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, smut, the angst, broad description of suicide attempt (blood), forbidden relationship, half-manipulation, imprisonment, mention of murder, kind of toxic behaviour, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She knew that she was paying for her naivety and stupidity, for not listening to Daemon and her premonition. She wasn't even able to fully blame her uncle for what had happened, because even though he was the one who had imprisoned her, she had thrown herself into his arms herself.

She let him thrust into her body, she let him fill herself with his warm seed, thinking that perhaps there was a way for them, no matter how twisty and difficult.

Lying in his room on his bed, pretending she didn't see his pleading, desperate looks in her direction, she had plenty of time to think about herself and her life.

She realised that everything she was doing, her naivety, her desire to help him stemmed from the belief that if it was possible to fix him, to set him on the right path, to free him from this sullen, dark fate, there was also hope for her.

The hope that one day there would come a moment in her life when she would feel peace.

Meanwhile, instead of peace, something else filled her.

Emptiness.

She felt nothing when it turned out that he had taken her phone, when he locked his room door when he left, when he spoke to her or asked her something.

She pretended that all this wasn't happening, that she was actually on the beach, gazing out at the endless sea, listening to its sound.

She couldn't bear the sight of him, the smell of him, his touch, and everything she had dreamed of and held dear became, in her eyes, foreign and hated: hearing him, she felt as if a stranger, with whom she wanted nothing to do, was speaking to her.

She did not want his explanations.

His apology.

She felt nothing, experienced nothing, needed nothing.

She didn't even feel the need to go home: even if she were free again, it wouldn't change anything.

Her uncle had broken something in her and they both knew it.

Her heart trembled in sympathy and grief only at the sight of Helaena: his sister had been patient, warm and affectionate caretaker towards her. They did not, however, usually exchange even a word.

There was no need: she knew that Helaena was a hostage and prisoner of her family as much as she was, and that there was nothing she could do to help her.

"I'm worried about Aemond." She said one time, handing her a towel in the bathroom.

She could have covered herself with a curtain in the bath, but Helaena needed to be in the room with her.

They wanted to be sure she wouldn't hurt herself.

She looked at her and put on the T-shirt she got from her that served as her pyjamas.

She didn't answer.

She didn't know what.

Helaena looked at her fingers, playing with them in a nervous gesture exactly as her brothers had done, all probably inheriting it from their mother.

"I caught him browsing your Instagram account one evening, couple of months ago. He was sitting in the living room with a drink and thought he was alone. He was about to do something with our grandfather. He didn't hear me come downstairs and freaked out. He turned off his app as soon as he saw me."

She looked at her in disbelief, feeling a squeeze in her heart, discomfort, pain and heat ripple through her body at the thought that, contrary to what she thought, he hadn't forgotten her at all.

"I tried to help him and he took advantage of me. Forgive me, but I am no longer able to sympathise with him." She whispered, picking up her things from the floor. His sister swallowed hard, looking up at her.

"Since that night. Since our father died. Since he saw you. For a moment, something changed in him. He seemed content. Calmer than usual. He told me he was thinking of going to university part-time. I didn't know you were the one helping him with that." She muttered, stepping closer to her, looking somewhere to the side, as if distracted.

"You can't save someone who doesn't want it." She said in a trembling voice, wondering what she wanted from her, how could she think that after what he had done to her she would care about his decisions and what he chose to do.

He had mocked her, objectified her, humiliated her.

He left her with nothing, stripped her of all virtues and values.

"Our grandfather knows when to act like part of the family and when to act like a ruler. He does this to each of us. He knows our weaknesses. Our unfulfilled desires, our flaws, our complexes. He knows who among us is the most miserable, the most vulnerable. The most weak." She said, avoiding eye contact with her, looking around the room, tense.

She pressed her clothes to her chest, feeling the squeeze in her throat at her words, the sympathy and pain that showed she was no different from him.

They both were weak.

They always were, even then, during that summer.

They were sad, hopeless and small children, finding each other in the end, comforting one another with their presence.

"I can't help him anymore. He's made his decision and I'm here. I don't think there's anything more we can say to each other."

That night she couldn't sleep: he hadn't been back for a long time wherever he was, and the thought that perhaps someone had shot him or taken revenge on him didn't fill her with peace.

Despite everything she felt, she didn't want him to die.

She shuddered when she heard footsteps in the corridor and then the sound of a key turning in the lock. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep when he came inside, closing the door behind him.

She heard him pull off his jacket and shoes, trying not to make any noise, and then he came towards her, leaning over her with a quiet sigh. She swallowed hard when he gently covered her with the duvet, when his wide, warm hand combed through her hair as if she were a small child.

She was furious with herself that she felt tears under her eyelids as soon as he pulled away and lay down on the mattress, when she heard him say hello to Vhagar, who licked his fingers.

She was furious that some part of her still craved his closeness, that his touch made her feel safe, just as it had then, that summer.

The only joy in her days filled with shame and grief was Vhagar.

Her uncle's dog was gigantic and had big brown eyes. Vhagar was as distrustful as he was and did not approach her at first, but watched her closely as she lay on the floor, and when she held out her hand to her, she sniffed the air, wanting to smell her with her large, black, wet nose.

Like him, Vhagar required patience and understanding, respecting her barriers.

Eventually, however, she allowed herself to be touched, sealing her acceptance with a long, sticky lick from which her fingers were all moist. Being with her and touching her soft, warm fur was a form of therapy for her: she couldn't find comfort in his arms even though she craved it, and she knew he was dying to touch her.

However, if she broke down and let him, she would lose the remnants of her self-respect and her own dignity.

Although she tried to reject these thoughts and feelings that filled her, what she had repressed during the day came back to her in her dream: she saw her uncle lying in a pool of blood, his face cut, his eyes gouged out in revenge for what he had done to one of the men who had not paid him on time.

The scream she let out seemed inhuman to her and she didn't even know she had really let it out. She pulled herself up on the bed, terrified by the darkness and the fact that she did not recognise the room she was in when she heard something move on the floor.

"– Rhaenys? – Rhaenys, what happened? –" She heard his voice and looked at him with big eyes, whooping with her own tears, sobbing loudly as she felt relieved despite everything he had done to her.

He was alive.

"– did you have a bad dream? –" He asked, looking at her with a sincere worry from which she felt pain in her heart, thinking in disbelief that she wanted to throw herself into his arms and cuddle up to him.

"– hey – hey, baby – it's okay –" He whispered soothingly, rising slowly, approaching her uncertainly. She lifted her shoulders up, simultaneously wanting and not wanting this.

She felt a pleasant shiver as he sat down beside her, his hand gently touching her shoulder.

She swallowed hard when he dared to put his other hand on her head and sank his face into her neck – she felt like bursting into sobs feeling his familiar scent, his familiar warmth, her body relaxing involuntarily into his embrace against her will.

"– shhh – easy – easy, little one – no one will hurt you –" He assured her, only to sink his face into the top of her head a moment later, stroking her shuddering body soothingly with his hands.

You've already done it, she thought with pain.

The person before whom she was most vulnerable, whom she allowed to touch her naked body, whom she allowed to be deep inside her, as intimate as possible.

She thought, feeling her body convulsing as she tried to calm her breathing, that she had nothing left.

"– I'm not sure I want to live anymore –" She mumbled out, surprising herself with these words that came straight from her heart.

She heard him draw in the air loudly, terrified, rocking her in his embrace as if she were a small child.

"– no – don’t say that – it won’t take long – my grandfather is in contact with your mother – they will soon come to an agreement and you will return home –" He whispered as if he thought that was what she meant.

That she just wanted to go home.

"– you broke my heart –" She said, wanting him to understand that her going back anywhere wouldn't change anything, because what he had done to her no place could fix.

She didn't really care now where she was or what was happening to her.

She felt regret towards herself that when she heard him burst out crying she involuntarily felt sympathy for him.

"– forgive me – I regret this like nothing else in my life, I swear – I will spend my life trying to make it up to you –" He muttered, his warm, full lips starting to place wet, lingering, desperate kisses on her face, wanting to somehow soften her words and what she had said, but she felt worse and worse.

"– I love you – I love you in every sense of the word –"

Lie.

"– I don't believe you –"

She heard him wail quietly, hugging her as tightly as if he wanted to break her bones, melt into one with her so she could never escape him again.

"– I understand it – and I don't dare ask for it –" He whispered with difficulty, and she clenched her eyes shut, herself feeling the hot tears one by one begin to run down her face.

They were just empty words that couldn't change anything.

"– that feeling I had inside me was the only thing that allowed me to breathe – and you took it away from me –" She whined into his neck, finally saying what she had been feeling all this time, the regret, the disappointment, the terror and the emptiness she felt deep inside her flowed out of her mouth.

She was sure he was going to start denying it, saying he would make it up to her, but instead she heard his mournful cry, his kisses on her face, neck and shoulders loud, sticky, ravenous, his breath heavy and raspy, making her feel a pleasant tickle between her thighs in spite of herself.

"– I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much –" He mumbled out and she snuggled into him harder, wanting to hurt and comfort him at the same time, to reject and accept him deep inside her.

Some part of her wanted to believe him again.

She gasped, surprised to feel her nipples grow hard, to feel her warm cunt pulsate around nothing as his broad hand slid slowly under her t-shirt, trailing down her back while his swollen lips did not pull away from her bare skin.

"– I love you –" He assured her, the strokes of his hand, his wet, hot lips increasingly ambiguous and intimate, the tips of his fingers trailing down her spine, making a wonderful shiver run through her again and again, from which she finally moaned.

"– you hurt me –" She mumbled out regretfully through her tears, inhaling his scent, hating him for how good she felt with him, hating him for how much she wanted him, hating him for needing him so badly and him taking advantage of her.

"– no more – I swear – all I want is you –" He breathed out, pressing her tighter to him, her lips in some subconscious, involuntary reflex brushing against his neck, tasting his sweat and his perfume.

"– please – please, baby, please –" He exhaled, their fingers clenching tighter on their bodies, proving where this was going, how much they both needed comfort, reassurance, a moment of pleasure and warmth, what only they could give each other.

She shuddered and froze when she felt his hand slide down her back to her bare buttocks, digging his fingers into them, feeling the cold sweat on her neck.

She pushed him away, panting heavily, and quickly moved away, pressing her back against the cold wall. She looked at him with big eyes, feeling her whole body quiver with desire, her cunt pulsing greedily, dripping all over from her wetness.

"– no – no, no, no, you're doing this to me again –" She cried out, shaking her head, horrified at the effect he had on her, how easily he manipulated her.

She was a stupid idiot, exactly as Daemon had said.

Her uncle shook his head, moving closer to her, in some pathetic, helpless gesture grabbing her calves, kissing her knees as if he wanted to fall to her feet.

"– no, I swear – I want you so badly –"

"– your grandfather told you to do this? – to soften me up so that in case my mother didn't agree he would get shares in her companies through me? –" She asked with anger, thinking that surely that was the case, that this was just part of their plan.

She couldn't let them down, she couldn't make a fool of herself once again.

Her uncle looked at her with eyes red from tears, his face all swollen, his lips parted in a heavy, raspy breaths.

"– no – I was the one who demanded that I could be by your side – that no one but me could bother you – to make sure you were safe –" He muttered and she shook her head, thinking she couldn't believe him.

"– I want to go to sleep – I want to go to sleep –" She mumbled out, herself no longer knowing what she was feeling or thinking.

She turned her face to the wall and hugged its cold structure as if she wanted to melt into it, the space between her thighs hot and wet, throbbing from the tension that filled her entire lower abdomen.

She pursed her lips into a thin line when she felt him clamp his hand on her waist, his face pressed against her back.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – please, don't reject me – I promise I'll be good now – I'm studying, I'm going to take my exams, I'm going to go to university – please, be there for me – it doesn't matter without you – my life doesn't matter if I can't share it with you –" He whined pleadingly, falling into hysteria, bursting out in such a loud, pitiful, almost childish cry that she began to weep herself, not knowing what to do, where to go to escape the chaos of feelings and thoughts that were filling her head.

Although she wanted to, she couldn't push him away after those words and she let him fall asleep cuddled into her back.

The next day, lying down, staring at the wall, waiting for him to wake up, she looked between her and the bed and saw something shiny on the floor. She slipped her hand into the gap and when she caught it, she thought with a heavy beating heart that it was the blade to a small bookbinding knife.

She swallowed loudly as she grasped it in her fingers and slowly raised her hand, slipping it into her towel that lay on the chair just above her head.

He had told her that day that her mother would try to reach an agreement with them if she could see her.

She thought with disgust and shame that her mother and Daemon would have to sacrifice what was rightfully theirs because she had been stupid and naive, because she had disobeyed them, because she had shown thoughtlessness.

She decided that she would make it right.

That she would do something that would destroy Otto's entire plan and allow Daemon to keep what he wanted.

She thought that perhaps her step-father would understand that she had done this for him.

That this was her apology.

"I'd like to take a bath."

True to her assumption, her uncle was careful and removed the key from the bathroom lock, informing her that she had ten minutes, however, to her relief, he did not check her towel.

When he closed the door she quickly turned the water on, not wanting him to get suspicious, and slid the blade out of the cloth, turning it in her fingers.

This was her escape route.

Her final word.

She stepped into the tub, sinking into the pleasantly warm, crystal clear water and leaned her back against the backrest, breathing loudly, feeling fear, uncertainty and doubt.

She didn't want this, but there was no other choice.

Even if she went home, she would not escape the prison that was her heart.

She was unable to stop loving him.

This thought made her sink the blade into the skin of her wrist.

She hissed, feeling with tears in her eyes how unpleasant, rough and stinging this feeling was, uncomfortable, exactly as her feelings towards her uncle.

She smiled under her breath thinking that he would be the one to find her.

She wondered if she would break his heart in this way, just as he had broken hers.

When she did the same with her other wrist she dropped the blade on the tiles and leaned her head back, lying in peaceful silence, hearing only the hum of water around her.

She closed her eyes, imagining that she was by the sea again, with him, listening as he told her about how old and valuable the coin they had found was.

Tears ran down her cheeks at the thought that in a moment she would join that boy.

The man standing outside the door had killed him long ago.

And then she fell asleep, and though she heard someone's voice, felt someone touch her, felt someone calling her name, she could not open her eyes, feeling calm and light.

Free.

She hissed, feeling an unpleasant burning sensation in her wrists and twisted on the bed, opening her eyelids with difficulty. She felt the sun shining on her face, the familiar smell of disinfectants all around her, the quiet beeping of the machines controlling her heart rate just above her head.

She looked to the side and saw the figure of Daemon sitting in a chair, looking at her exactly as he had then, when her uncle had brought her home from Heavenly Beach.

She felt her body begin to quiver in shame and fear: even though she tried, she couldn't find the words to express what she was feeling, and although she had never called him that, at that moment something snapped inside her.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, Dad – I believed him – I was only supposed to bring him the books, nothing more – I was trying to fix it –" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, struggling to catch air between the successive sentences that left her mouth.

Something in her step-father's gaze changed – he swallowed hard and twisted in his seat, clenching his hands into fists.

It seemed to her that some part of him sympathised with her.

"– I know –"

Those words, though short and dispassionate, meant more to her than he could have imagined.

Although he was furious with her, and he had every right to be, he understood why she did what she did and that she believed it would help his cause.

"– you did it for me – didn't you? –" He asked, looking at her wrists.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath, feeling that her cheeks and eyelids were all swollen with tears of sadness, grief and pain.

He lowered his gaze and sighed heavily, turning his head to the side, looking towards the window.

"– don't ever do it again – your mother almost died of despair –" He said, and she nodded again, letting his large hand close over her fingers.

"– you are a naive, stupid child – but mine – you will be under my full control from now on – you will not go anywhere without me, your mother or my bodyguards – do you understand? –" He asked and she nodded, feeling shame.

He was right.

She was a naive, stupid child who someone had to watch over to make sure she didn't mess up again.

Despite her initial horror that everyone would hate her, she was welcomed home with relief and joy: she knew that to some extent this was influenced by what she had done, but at least it made everyone understand that she regretted what had happened.

"– that son of a bitch – I swear I'll kill him with my own hands –" Jace said to her, embracing her tenderly as if she were a teddy bear.

She felt pain and discomfort at the thought that some part of her wanted to ask him not to hurt her uncle.

She wondered how much of this was due to how he was manipulating her and how much was due to how she really felt about him.

She knew that Daemon, Jace and their men had declared war on Otto: every day someone died in a shootout, and she prayed she wouldn't hear his name overhearing the conversations of her father's bodyguards.

"That boy with one eye sold Larys Strong a bullet in the head. His grandfather's partner! They say he just walked into his office and shot him. He must have pissed him off pretty good." He said, and she swallowed hard, feeling her heart stand up in her throat with terror.

She reached into the pocket of her shorts, pulling out the note he'd left her at the hospital and read its contents for the hundredth time.

I will always watch over you.

A cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought that his confession was literal.

That he had killed him for her.

Do you know who did this?

I can take care of it.

For your comfort.

Those were his words.

I can take care of it for your comfort.

She hid her face in her hands at the thought of him sinking even deeper into darkness for her, thinking that in this way he would atone for what he had done.

Daemon agreed to let her return to the University on the condition that one of his bodyguards would wait in the car the entire time she was in the building, just to make sure she didn't leave or run away.

She agreed to this out of desperation, feeling that she was descending into madness sitting at home, constantly dreaming about him.

About someone bringing them news that he was dead.

Along with the end of the semester, the entry exams for all those who wanted to get into university were also approaching.

She tried not to think about whether he was studying, whether he was going to come and try, recognising that it was just his momentary whim, an attempt to make her believe that he was capable of change.

And then she'd see his silhouette in her memory, bent over a thick tome, read through her textbooks.

She hated herself for sympathising with him.

She hated herself for wanting him to succeed.

Since then neither of them had written or spoken to each other.

Even so, the day she knew the exams were to take place had her walking around in a state of complete shock and panic all day.

"Are you alright? I'm worried about you. You look terrified." Robb said, snapping her out of her reverie.

They had been together for a few months during the past year, as they had become very close on a excavations where they had been the professor's assistants together.

His ironic sense of humour, the glint in his eye and his cheeky smile made her feel a pleasant warmth in her stomach, and when he kissed her one evening she thought there was hope for her.

That she could live a normal life.

She spent her first time with him because she trusted him and knew he was experienced. He was tender and patient with her, excited by her clearly lack of skill in this aspect, by the fact that he could lead her by the hand, show her what desire and fulfilment were.

She was grateful to him for making the loss of her virginity only a little painful for her, and beyond that she felt only pleasure.

Nevertheless, she despaired that the orgasms she experienced with him could not compare to what she felt when she herself sank her hand into her leaking womanhood, imagining that it was her uncle's fingers that was greedily invading her slit.

"– go on – after all, that's what you want – that's why you came to me, isn't it? – for your uncle to take care of you – am I wrong? –"

She had to snuggle her face into the pillow so that her siblings wouldn't hear her moan of delight and relief, while wonderful waves of warmth and pleasure shook her body, causing her to fall into a peaceful, pleasant sleep, still holding her hand between her thighs.

However, it was enough for her to wake up in the morning, and remorse, sadness and disappointment in herself made her unable to breathe or eat.

And then she saw pictures of Robb with the women he had embraced at the club, and while part of her felt pain, part of her also felt relief.

When she broke up with him, he tried to explain to her that nothing had happened, that he had forgotten himself under the influence of alcohol but that he had never, never cheated on her because he had not kissed or had sex with any of them.

She then thought sadly that she could tell him exactly the same thing, however she felt that they were both cheating on each other in some way, just not physically.

She decided that it would be better if they remained friends, and although it was hard for him to bear at first, he seemed to eventually get used to the thought.

Neither of them resented each other.

She lowered her gaze at the thought, embarrassed, not knowing what to answer him, not being able to confess the truth after all.

She was, however, tired of lying.

"My friend was supposed to take his entry exams today. But I don't know if he will. He hurt me and I'm afraid to go there." She said, looking across the corridor to the part in the building where the big auditorium was located.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He suggested, and for some unknown reason she felt grateful to him for the offer.

She nodded, and he smiled at her in a way that she remembered vividly from the moments when she thought they were happy.

When they got there, she saw that the door to the room was open, probably because of how stuffy it was in there.

"Can you see him?" Robb whispered as she leaned out, she could, however, only see the first three rows of pews and did not recognise him among any of the people.

"No. But I can't see much." She muttered.

"Well, tough. We'll wait." He sighed, leaning back against the windowsill with his arms folded.

"Is he your boyfriend?" He asked after a moment with hesitation in his voice.

"No." She mumbled, looking at her fingers in shame. Robb raised his eyebrows, stroking his chin as if something in her words comforted him.

"Oh. I see." He said, and she swallowed hard, looking away, feeling that even though she had told the truth she felt like she had lied.

The people who had finished writing the exam started to leave one by one, making her lose faith with each passing minute that he had done it at all, thinking in the back of her mind that he was sitting with his grandfather and brother right now for sure, discussing how to destroy her step-father.

He didn't have time to play University now, she thought sadly, and froze when she saw him in the doorway.

His healthy eye grew wide at the sight of her as if he had seen a ghost and he stopped in mid-motion, pale, glancing at her, then at Robb.

"Is that him?" He asked curiously, extending his hand to him. "Robb, it's a pleasure. I hope you become a student soon too."

She swallowed hard seeing that his uncle's face expressed tension and coldness, a sign that something bad was about to happen.

His gaze full of impatience fell on her again while Robb's hand continued to hang in the air, showing her that if she didn't intervene, he would speak up and she wouldn't like that.

"Thank you, Robb. Will you leave us alone?" She asked in a trembling voice, wanting him to get away from this place as quickly as possible.

Robb blinked, bewildered, looking at her then at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Didn't you hear what she said?" Her uncle snarled in his direction in a way she knew was a warning.

He knew who he was, she realised suddenly with horror.

Then, when Helaena caught him looking at her Instagram account, it wasn't the first time he'd done it.

He followed her social media.

That's why he knew where he should come even though she hadn't given him her university address.

"I'm not talking to you, mate." Said Robb in a tone that betrayed that he had lost patience and she had to stand between them to keep her uncle from pushing against him, his jaw clenched in rage.

"That's enough." She said in a shaky voice.

"Aemond is having a hard time. Forgive him. Sometimes he doesn't know how to behave. He won't hurt me. Am I wrong?" She asked softly with a note of mockery in her voice, from which he swallowed loudly and looked away, embarrassed, trying to control himself.

Robb hesitated, but nodded finally and left them alone, glancing at them intently over his shoulder.

"It was a mistake." She said, shaking her head, herself wanting to leave, recognising that she didn't know why she was doing it, why she cared.

"– no – no, wait –" He muttered, grabbing her arm, careful, however, not to cause her pain. His hand wrapped around her waist in a way from which she swallowed hard, his forehead pressed against her temple.

"– are you two together again? –" He asked in a trembling voice, and she involuntarily burst out laughing, ignoring the stares of the other students who were just passing them by.

"– do you want to tell me how you know who I'm dating and when? –" She hissed, looking at him with fury, his gaze hot and pleading, full of feelings she didn't want to see.

"– do you love him? –"

She shook her head, trying to push him away, not wanting to hear it, having no intention of explaining herself to him.

"– I hope you'll pass – let me go – let me go, I said –" She growled, trying to pull away from him, but he closed his hands on her back, hugging his nose to her cheek like a small child seeking refuge, his eyes closed as he spoke his next words.

"– I killed him for you –" He whispered.

She swallowed hard, feeling a powerful, cold shiver run down her spine, her heart starting to pound like mad in her chest making her struggle to take another breath.

He had killed for her.

He had killed a man.

God, was it possible to wash away such a sin?

To carry such a burden.

She shook her head, her brow arching in pain at the thought that she didn't want to hear it.

"– I killed him because he threatened you – because he wanted to hurt you – I want you to be safe –" He gasped tenderly, enclosing her jaw in his hands, placing again and again warm, soft kisses on her cheek as if she were something he longed to cherish, that he adored, that he loved.

A part of her wanted to ask him if he planned to kill himself too, but those cruel words didn't leave her mouth.

When he hugged her she simply closed her eyes and allowed herself to calm down in the tender embrace of his arms, feeling his soft, full lips on her cheek, neck and shoulders, his hands combing through her hair tender, close, familiar, beloved.

"– I'm not pregnant –" She whispered and felt him freeze for a moment. He swallowed hard, placing a lingering, warm kiss on her temple.

"– I know – the doctor told me – we just have to try again –" He said softly, stroking her back comfortingly as if he were a husband who had just assured his wife that they would have a child in the future.

How absurd his words were simultaneously horrified, embarrassed and endeared her.

"– do you hear yourself? – after what you did to me? – after how –" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, clasping her hands on his back, for some reason seeking help in his embrace.

He was the only person who understood what she was going through.

"– shhh – I'm here, baby –" He hushed her, stroking her hair and her back, his face sinking into her temple, his warm breath enveloping her neck.

She shuddered when she heard her phone ring – they moved away from each other, and when she pulled it out of her backpack it turned out to be Daemon's bodyguard.

"Your class is over, where are you? Is something wrong?"

"– n-no – no, I'm on my way, I was talking to the professor – I'm sorry –" She mumbled out, scared that the man would start looking for her.

"– it's okay – I'll wait where I always do –" He said and hung up while she breathed a sigh of relief.

"– wait a few minutes before I go so they don't see you –" She said indifferently, tucking the phone into her backpack. She felt him wanting to embrace her again, but she pushed him away, shaking her head and avoided him, unable to look at his face.

We just have to try again.

She burst out crying at the thought that some sick part of her wanted this.

"– you said he's not your boyfriend –" She heard Robb's voice behind her, standing at the entrance to the courtyard, looking at her with pain and disbelief.

She swallowed hard at the thought that he was watching them from a distance.

"– I –"

"– I thought we are friends, that we are honest with each other –" He said quickly, combing his hair with his hand in a gesture of impatience, his words making a cold, unpleasant shiver of shame shudder through her body.

He had caught her in the act, and she was like a small, weeping child who was afraid of the consequences.

"– he is not my boyfriend –"

"– are you serious? – you said he hurt you, and you almost let him fuck you in the middle of the corridor – where is your self-respect? –" He hissed and after a moment fell silent, seeing the look in her eyes, the expression on her face, hearing his own words, knowing that his last sentence was a step too far.

"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry I said that – I didn't –" He muttered, running his hand over his mouth.

He wanted to touch her shoulder, but she moved away from him, shaking her head, not caring that the others were looking at them from the side.

"– is there anything else you want to say? –" She asked, having the feeling that something inside her had broken once and for all, shattered into pieces like a glass vase.

Robb opened his mouth, his cheeks turning scarlet with horror and shame.

She turned tensely, heading for the exit, out of the corner of her eye noticing her uncle's face staring back at her, pale and shocked.

He heard it.

She shook her head letting him know not to follow her and ran towards the car park, thinking about how she wanted to sink to the ground and die.

As she closed the car door behind her, whooping with tears in panic, the man leaned over to look at her face, horrified.

"Are you all right?" He muttered.

"– I didn't pass the fucking exam – can we go now? –" She said with such anger and fury that the bodyguard merely nodded and started the engine, backing the car out onto the road.

She covered her face with her hands, choking and panting, trying to calm down, thinking she deserved it.

Why had she gone there?

Why did she have to see if he had come?

What did it matter?

We just had to try again.

Jesus fucking Christ.

They were both completely mad.

Maybe they had inherited it in their genes, she thought regretfully.

It wasn't until she was home at dinner, feeling Daemon's anxious gaze on her, that she thought uneasily that she had escaped the drowning ship, but had left her uncle and ex-boyfriend far too close. She felt her knee begin to pop up in a nervous reflex under the table at the thought that he might have done something to him.

Out of revenge, out of jealousy, out of whimsy.

I killed him for you.

She thought she would write to him to make sure he was okay.

But he didn't write back.

Unable to stand it, she put a second, new card in her phone, one of the hundreds her brother kept in his drawer to avoid bugging him, and called her uncle, demanding an explanation.

"What did you do to him?" She asked horrified, walking around her room as if in a trance.

"I see you have a new phone number and I have no idea what you're asking."

"Robb, Aemond. He's not writing me back."

She heard him hum on the other end, as if he was pleased with her words and the fact that whatever he had done had forced her to contact him.

"We only talked. His handsome face with brown eyes is unharmed." He said calmly, making her breathe a sigh of relief, still feeling the tension though.

"What were you two talking about?"

"It was our men's business."

"AEMOND."

"That I won't let anyone treat you like that. He doesn't know shit and meddles in matters that aren't his." He said coldly. "I gave him a warning."

For a moment there was a tension-filled silence between them, from which her heart pounded like mad.

She thought it was all some kind of pure madness, that it wasn't really happening.

"– did you threaten him? –"

She heard his loud sigh on the other side and a bark.

Vhagar.

"– I told him to treat you with respect and not to talk to other people about us if he didn't want unpleasantness – no violence, pure persuasion –"

"– manipulation – as in my case –"

"– that is not true –" He protested angrily.

"– LIAR –" She hissed and hung up, throwing her phone on the bed in a gesture full of rage.

She fell back on the bedding, sighing loudly and groaned when she saw that her display had lit up and he had sent her a new message.

She unlocked her phone reluctantly, thinking she had angered him with her words, but saw with surprise that he had sent her a picture of Vhagar.

She felt regret and a sting in her heart at the thought that involuntarily it made her smile.

What he was doing to her was so wrong, so very wrong.

So why did she feel warmth in her heart?

After a while, her phone vibrated again.

She didn't know why she laughed warmly only to burst out crying again a moment later, not understanding why he was the only one who could make her smile, the only one who could make her feel that wonderful warmth in her lower abdomen, the only one who could calm her down.

Why he was the only one she loved.

[theemporium]

[2.7k] two weeks have passed since your life completely crumbled before your eyes. but life goes on for you and charles. it just so happens life brings an unlikely friend swooping in to help too.

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It felt like an olive branch from the universe that Imola was cancelled.

Charles knew he should have been more upset about it, and to some extent he was. Racing was the first love of his life, it was the love he shared with his father and his brothers and his godfather. It was the love that took over his world, his dreams, his ambitions. It was the biggest constant in his life since the day he was born.

And racing in Italy was a kind of special that very few tracks could compete with. It was the heart of the Tifosi, of the fans who supported him for years and years. It was his home away from home, the country that held a part of his heart like Monaco did, along with Monza. 

But he couldn’t deny that a huge part of him was relieved that the race wouldn’t go ahead, that he wasn’t expected to go into the paddock with a smile on his face and be swarmed by fans and cameras and whatever else they would throw at Ferrari’s Golden Boy. 

He could just hide away in Monaco a bit longer. 

It was easy when he was with you, when he had someone who understood his suffering and pain in the same way. But it was also brutal. He didn’t like seeing you upset, seeing you cry or shut down. He didn’t like that he couldn’t take away your pain, and he guessed you most likely felt similarly to him.

Unfortunately for the both of you, there was very little you could do about the matter. The damage was done and now you both had to deal with the aftermath together. 

It had been over two weeks since Miami and he felt no better than he did then. On one hand, he was grateful that no one knew his pain beyond the people close to him. The world wasn’t preening or poking into his relationship, they had no idea. They were blissfully unaware like Charles wishes he was.

But on the other hand, it just made everything so much worse. Nobody knew he was suffering. No one knew he was just as broken as you were. No one knew why his smile didn’t seem as genuine when fans stopped him on the street, or why his eyes looked so red and dull, or why he hadn’t even touched his social media—not even to post about landing on the podium back in Miami. 

And the people around him who did know were understanding, but even his team were starting to lose their patience and Charles honestly couldn’t blame him.

“What’s this?” 

Charles lifted his head from the screen he had been blankly staring at for the last thirty minutes to see his mother enter the room, bags of groceries in each hand. He wordlessly took them from her, smiling a little when she pressed a kiss to his cheek before he began helping her put everything away. 

“Val’s plan,” Charles answered, his nose scrunched up in annoyance at your PR manager’s name. “She wants to make sure the whole thing doesn’t look badly on us, if we are seen together without—” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Pascale frowned. “She cannot expect you both to avoid each other, not during a time like this.” 

“They just want to protect us, maman,” Charles said with a heavy sigh, saying the same words he kept repeating to himself since he opened the email earlier. “The last thing she needs right now is for people to think she’s moved on from Pierre and using me and—”

“Oh, mon amour,” Pascale sighed as she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her son and squeezing tightly until his head dropped to her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be worrying about things like this, not right now. You should be together, leaning on each other, planning on how to cut off that putain’s—”

“Maman,” he chastised but his lips were twitching at the protectiveness in her voice. It was comforting, in a weird way. Not that he ever thought his mother would be on Pierre’s side, not for a single second. But he had known him for just as long as Charles had, it eased something that she was just as angry as he was (even if he couldn’t quite show it just yet). 

“They shouldn’t be sending your fifty page documents on how to hide your relationship,” Pascale insisted, lifting her chin. “Relationships are human occurrences that require human reactions. Not whatever is in that file.”

Charles smiled sadly. “They just want to protect us, just like you do.”

“I’m your mother, I know best,” Pascale said, but the slightly teasing tilt in her words broke whatever serious facade she was trying to hold onto. 

“Of course, maman,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“And as your mother, I demand you stay for dinner,” Pascale said with a knowing look. “You’re getting thin.” 

“I am watching my weight—” But his mouth quickly snapped shut when his mother levelled him with a glare. “Fine, fine. I’ll stay.” 

“Good,” Pascale smiled, pleased with herself. “You both need a home cooked meal made with love. God knows she won’t be getting it from your cooking skills.”

Charles frowned. “Hey!”

“Like I said, mother knows best!” 

...

...

You had initially found out from your doorman that Pierre had finally returned to your shared apartment in Monaco. 

Pablo was a kind and caring man, somewhere in his seventies and proud of the job he had in the apartment complex. He was sweet and talkative, always there to chat away with you on the days where you’d be returning to an empty home. He tended to look out for you, whether that was because he was genuinely a kind person or because your father had somewhat asked him to do so, but you always appreciated the man and the texts he would send you. 

He never used his phone often, and very rarely did he message you when you saw him almost daily. It was usually only reserved to message about a parcel or to relay a message to your boyfriends about the race. 

And you knew the man didn’t use social media. You knew he probably had no idea what happened between you, Charles and Pierre. But something about his message made you believe he caught on to something being wrong, that he seemed to realise something was different when you and Charles had yet to return home in the last few days despite being in the country, and Pierre showed up alone. 

The only issue was that despite knowing very well that Pierre was in the apartment and spending the last two weeks itching to finally see his face and give him a peace of your mind, you couldn’t even bring yourself to get out of your car. 

You had arrived over forty minutes ago, determination and anger fuelling you after you left the meeting with your team. And yet, the second you pulled into the parking spot across from the apartment complex, the fight completely left you and you were left staring at your steering wheel with a mixed look of apprehension and uneasiness. 

It was stupid. So fucking stupid. 

Once upon a time, Pierre Gasly was one of the few people in the world that you felt safe around. He saw you for you, he was the one who made you feel comfortable and accepted and loved. He was someone you saw yourself spending the rest of your life with. 

And now, the mere idea of coming face to face with him made your skin scrawl and your stomach twist to the point you were surprised you hadn’t brought up your lunch. 

A part of you wished Charles was with you. The other part of you was glad he wasn’t here.

You were so lost in your own thoughts, in your spiral about what the fuck he was doing up there that he hadn’t even tried to contact either of you, that you didn’t notice the person approaching your car until he was knocking on your window. 

You jumped as you let out a scream, your hand placed over your pounding heart as you turned to find Max Verstappen smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said through the window, looking genuinely embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s fine,” you smiled awkwardly before nodding towards the passenger seat. “Here, just—” 

Max seemed to accept your offer, rounding the car and slipping into the passenger seat with a warm smile. His eyes focused on your face, seeming to contemplate what he was about to say but you opened your mouth before he could. 

“If I look shit, lie to me,” you tried to joke but it fell flat.

“You don’t look shit,” Max said, his voice blunt and honest like it always was. “You just looked…lost.” 

Your lips twitched. “Lost?”

“Lost,” he said with a nod. “Monaco isn’t that big so I hardly imagine you need directions but I thought I would offer some help.”

You smiled a little at his offer before nodding towards the building across the street. “That’s my apartment.” 

“Oh,” Max said.

“The apartment I share with Pierre, who is currently upstairs and who hasn’t spoken a single word to me or Charles since Miami,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Oh,” Max repeated, but it sounded more understanding now. 

“Yeah,” you said because you couldn’t quite bring yourself to say anything else. 

“Were you going to talk to him?” Max questioned, genuinely just curious. The ‘alone’ part went unsaid. 

“I don’t know,” you confessed, letting out a heavy sigh. “I just drove and I thought I would know by the time I got here but…here we are.” 

Max hummed, nodding. 

You leaned your head back against your seat, a voice in the back of your head telling you to keep your mouth shut, to stop dumping your problems onto the boy next to you but you couldn’t seem to stop once you started. 

“He just went completely off the grid for two weeks and didn’t say a word. And now he’s here and he’s probably going to stay there until the next race and I don’t even know what the fuck I’m supposed to do because that was meant to be our place. But I don’t want to stay there and neither does Charles and Val doesn’t want us to publicly look for new places because of the fucking scandals and—”

“You can move in with me.”

The car fell silent.

“What?” 

“I just mean,” Max cleared his throat, a light blush painted over his cheeks. “If you need a place to stay and keep a low profile. My apartment building is pretty good at keeping annoying journalists away and it gives you time to find a new place. I think I know better than most how busy your schedules are.” 

You swallowed back the emotions thick in the back of your throat. “You’d really do that?” 

“Yeah,” Max smiled softly. “That’s what friends are for?” 

“We are friends?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

“Ouch,” he replied but his lips were twitching upwards. “I’ve known you for, what? Ten? Fifteen years? Don’t tell me I’m just a glorified stranger to you.”

“No, I–” You huffed out a laugh. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. You don’t owe us anything, let alone a place to stay. We could’ve stayed with my dad—”

“In Switzerland?” Max pointed out.

“Or Charles’ mother,” you said, pressing your lips to bite back your smile when Max gave you a knowing look. 

“It sucks to be cheated on,” he said, and you almost flinched at how bluntly he said it. How easily he said the words that you were still in denial over. “And I know how lonely it can be, even if there’s someone else. You’re both suffering and,” he paused as he shrugged. “I’ve known you both the longest in the paddock. I want to help. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t mean it.” 

“Thank you, Max,” you whispered softly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “It won’t be long. Probably just a week or two so we can get our stuff in storage and find a place after the Monaco Grand Prix because it will be too hectic—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Max smiled, squeezing your hand back. “Like I said, that’s what friends are for.”

“Friends,” you repeated with a smile.

...

...

“That’s very nice of Max.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“Did you want me to say it wasn’t nice of him to offer you and Charles to move in?” 

“I expected something more than five words,” you retorted, already able to imagine the smile on your father’s face even if you couldn’t see it right now. “He has no reason to do this for us. I’m just surprised.” 

“He’s your friend, no?” 

“Apparently everyone got that memo except me,” you murmured, your brows furrowing in concentration as you continued to attempt squishing your shoes into one box. “I think I have said a total of fifty words to him.”

“Are you okay, though? Moving in with Max? Moving out of your apartment?” 

You let out a sigh, the concern in your father’s voice was comforting and sweet. But you were tired of hearing the same question from so many people in your life, mostly because you didn’t know what the answer was. 

No, you weren’t okay that your boyfriend cheated on you. No, you weren’t okay at the fact you now had to move out of the place you called home for the last year or so. No, you weren’t okay with the fact that everything felt so unsure and unstable in your life right now. No, you weren’t okay at the fact Charles was hurting just as much as you were but he seemed adamant to hide how he felt, to act strong in front of you like you didn’t hear him crying in the shower or when he thought you had fallen asleep.

No, you weren’t okay.

But that wasn’t the answer people wanted to hear. And it wasn’t the answer you wanted to give people. You didn’t want more people worrying over you anymore than they already were.

“I’m okay,” you said to your father, the lie leaving an acidic taste in your mouth. “Plus, Max has cats. You never let me get one when I was younger.”

Sebastian snorted. “You loved the fish I got you though.”

“Until the cleaner accidentally flushed Mr Bubbles down the toilet,” you reminded, your lips twitching at the boisterous laugh your father let out at the memory. “May he rest in peace.”

“I am sure he is alive and well in the ocean somewhere.”

You shook your head in amusement.

“I was thinking of flying out for the next race,” Sebastian said, so casually like you didn’t know the implications behind his words. Like you didn’t know he had probably conspired with Pascale to fly out as soon as he could. “I miss the track.”

“Mhm,” you hummed knowingly. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he said, simply and bluntly. “I want to see you. Both of you. And I do miss the track.”

“Shouldn’t have retired, old man,” you murmured, but something in your chest warmed at the thought of having your father nearby again. You left Switzerland so quickly after the pictures dropped, even when a part of you desired to stay in the farmhouse, far away from everyone and everything for the rest of your life. “The track misses you too.”

“You’re going to make me do a Fernando and come out of retirement.”

You snorted. “The people would be thanking me.”

“Hm, we will see.”

“Charles will be happy to see you too,” you told your father. “I think he needs you here as much as I do.”

“I’m there for you both, always.” 

“I know,” you smiled softly, even if he couldn’t see it. “I still need to finish up these last few boxes before the moving van comes. But I’ll call you later, okay?” 

“I love you, honigbiene.”

“I love you too, Papa.” 

You were thankful the apartment was completely empty the second the call disconnected, sobs leaving your mouth before you could even stop yourself. You weren’t okay. Far from it. And you weren’t sure you would ever be properly okay again.

But you were a Vettel and you would persevere, even if it killed you a little bit inside. 

...

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