#and i believe from the few things we saw of him he could be willing to change

[midnightmah07]

Super random but one thing that annoys me is people villanizing Falena as a character. Like we haven't even met him yet but you wholeheartedly believe he's a clown who cannot properly take care of his country. My guy, Falena is not perfect, and I'm not saying his way of governing his country is perfect either, Sunset Savannah has tons of trouble, but he's not a dictator, he's misled when it comes to paying respect to the nature/his ancestors to the point he doesn't see current problems, but we also have to remember while I love Leona his opinion IS biased, he already has something against his brother, it doesn't invalidate his opinion but it's something worth noting. Also, may I add, he seems totally willing to taking criticism, at least it seemed so in that one line of him saying to Leona he would never be king, but he can still contribute to his country, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind if Leona criticized him seriously and gave him advice, he would listen.

But noooooo he's the source of all Leona's problems (he's not.) so he can't possibly be a good person who happens to be flawed noooooo

[bartxnhood]

mayberry | t.o

tyler owens x fem!reader

based on this request: Requesting one, where Tyler and his crew chasing the tornado as casual but there's a twist (it can be a happy or angst ending) what if the tornado they chase was heading to where reader lives, today he was planning on asking her to move on with him after they finished another successful on making the tornado gone yet when he noticed where it was going he drives faster and trying to outrun the tornado.

warnings: descriptions of tornadoes, reader loses her house, blood, cuts.

w/c: 1.8k

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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“shes a pistol, ty. hope you can handle her” javier begins, removing his sunnies and leans against his white truck while looking at tyler across the driveway of your mothers house.

tyler smiles to himself at the mention of you. he looks in his wallet, a picture of you and him at a rodeo. you’re wearing his red flannel and white cowboy hat as you kiss his cheek.

a picture he treasured most. no one knew about this picture in his wallet. it was his own little secret, you didn’t even know he had the polaroid.

tyler and you both majored in meteorology throughout your time in college. storm chasers had a limited dating pool. nobody was willing to chase after these monstrous storms in such a way and then return to laugh about it over a few beers.

that’s why he took such a liking to you.

tyler didn't try to hide his feelings first. he would constantly try to convince you to go out with him or do something else, but you would never accept his advances. you didn't believe that you could put up with his ego.

till you began chasing with him.

since then, you saw a side of him that you didn’t know. tyler was a kind hearted man, caring for the people that fell victim to these storms. he was so intelligent that it made you rethink your own decisions, that was rare.

before you knew it, you started falling for tyler owens. the rest is history.

“i’m thinkin bout asking her to move in with me after we get this storm tonight.” tyler confesses to javier, a sly smirk on his face. javier’s eyebrows raise, cocking his hip to the side and crossing his arms.

“you think she’ll say yes?”

tyler presses his lips into a thin smile, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket where it belongs. “i hope so.” he answers, looking up towards the house.

tyler had decided it was time to take the next step with you. he had been thinking about asking you to move in with him for a while now, and he was sure it was the right decision.

he loved you deeply and couldn’t imagine his life without you. he wanted to wake up next to you every morning, cook breakfast together, and spend evenings cuddled up on the couch watching movies.

the thought of you living together filled him with excitement and joy, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when he popped the question.

“guys!” lilly hollers, exiting the rv, running towards the pair. “we have huge activity southeast. we gotta move, now!”

there’s a tension that settled in over the group as they all scrambled to get their things together and radars ready.

tyler’s first thought was you. he takes off, boots stomping in the puddles as he swings the screen door open.

“y/n?” he hollers, taking his sunglasses off.

“up here!” you answer, drying your hair after a shower.

you watch in the mirror as tyler appears in the doorway, “whats up?” you ask, dropping your hand by your sides. “there’s one southeast. big one.” he’s almost grinning hoping to get you excited but his smile drops when you don’t react.

there’s a silence as you begin to rake product through the ends of your hair. “cmon, we don’t wanna miss it. lilly says it’ll touch down in an hour at least.”

“m’not goin” you reply, looking into his eyes from the mirror. “what? whaddya mean?”

“it’s mom” you answer, followed by a sigh. “she’s doing bad again, she’s freaking out over it and i’m just gonna stay with her. the house isn’t in the path so it should be fine” you say, turning to him.

you can see a soft frown on his lips as he looks down at you, “we always chase together.”

you smile sadly, and nod. you let your hand come up and caress his cheek. “i know, darlin. we’ll get the next one i promise.”

you press a quick kiss on his lips, “be safe, baby.” he replies, kissing the top of your head and heading off with the crew.

the atmosphere was thick and heavy with a sense of impending doom as the tornado began to take shape. the clouds churned and wracked, twisting into a massive, menacing funnel cloud. the noise was deafening, a high-pitched roar that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

gusts of wind howled like a beast, tearing at anything in their path. this was no ordinary twister; this was an EF5, the most powerful and destructive tornado there was. it loomed on the horizon, a sinister harbinger of disaster.

tyler, now chasing the storm, was strapped into his well-worn red dodge. his eyes fixed on the churning sky as he chased a massive storm through the southeast landscapes. his truck was a trusted companion, having borne him through countless weather events.

its engine roared confidently as tyler navigated the treacherous terrain, seeking the perfect position to observe the storm up close and capture its raw power. he was fueled by a deep passion for the spectacle of the weather and driven by the adrenalin rush of being in the heart of the swirling chaos.

“you seein this, T?!” boone hollers from the passenger seat. “i’m seein it boone!” he yells back, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

tyler doesn’t remove his eyes from the storm raging in the wheat field, but something feels off. something isn’t right.

“what is it, ty?” javier calls over the radio noticing his decreasing speed. tyler is too mesmerized by the black clouds, he doesn’t reply. “T?” boone calls.

“something’s wrong.” he mumbles, “the path..the path is changing!” he says hurriedly watching the surroundings.

lilly pipes from the backseat, “its moving northwest! heading straight for mayberry!”

“shit.” tyler hits his steering wheel before making a sharp turn, turning around.

“the path is shifting!” boone alerts over the radio.

tyler’s heart launched in his chest watching the twister hurtling towards the small town where you lived. he’d often worried about this, and now his worst nightmare was unfolding before his eyes.

his grip tightened on the steering wheel, and his eyes darkened as he gunned the engine, pushing the red dodge to its limits. he had to get to you, had to make sure you were safe. his mind raced as he calculated how much time he had, the seconds ticking away in an excruciating countdown.

there was no warning, the storm was moving too unpredictably. you should’ve monitored it closer, you should’ve been more prepared.

the house trembled violently as the tornado tore through the neighborhood.

the windows shattered, spraying glass everywhere. the walls creaked and groaned, buckling under the immense pressure of the onslaught.

pictures fell from the walls, their frames splattering on the floor. furniture was hurled around like toys, breaking apart as it smashed into the remaining walls.

“mom!” you holler, staying low to the ground reaching out for her. she takes your hand and you pull her close to your body.

“hold on tight!” you scream.

the two of you huddled together, their screams blending into the cacophony, their eyes wide with terror. outside, the world had become a blur of debris and chaos, the swirling vortex ripping everything apart in its path.

tyler stepped out of his truck followed by boone and lilly. his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he saw the destruction hoping beyond hope that she was safe. but the sight that greeted him was a nightmare. your once-cheerful home had been reduced to a pile of rubble, the remnants of your life scattered among the wreckage. the tornado had ripped through the property, leaving destruction in its wake.

the property wasn’t recognizable, the only way he knew it was your home was your white jeep wrapped around the willow tree.

tyler’s hands come up and run thorough his hair, “oh god..” he breathes. “jesus christ..” boone says just above a whisper.

tyler can’t let his emotions get the best of him. he needed to find you.

“y/n!” he hollers.

“y/n!” lilly screams. “ms.l/n” boone calls for your mom.

tyler pushes his way through the debris, his eyes scanning the rubble for any sign of you.

he continued to pulled lumber, pillars, glass and furniture for what felt like hours. “y/n!” his heart thudding against his chest with every moment that passed. panic clawed at his gut as he continued his desperate search.

finally, he heard a faint sound, like a whimper. he turned, and there you were, buried under a pile of rubble.

his breath caught in his throat as he carefully dug you out, his hands trembling.

as your face came into view, it was smeared with dirt and blood, but your eyes widened with relief as you saw him. “t?” you rasp.

he gently picked you up, cradling you against him like a fragile doll.

"i'm here," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "im here, and you're going to be okay."

you wince, standing on the unstable ground. “mom..” you croak, tears brimming down your eyes again. “she’s down there..”

tyler nods, he looks back at boone and was about to go down and search for her but boone stops him. “i got her.”

boone disappears in the pile of rubble, then he emerges with your mother in his arms. “we need an ambulance!”

tyler nods and leaves you with lilly to call for first responders.

“‘m fine, t.” you say, say in the back of the ambulance. “just makin sure..” he whispered taking your arm in his hands and scanning your skin. he needed to make sure you weren’t seriously injured, even though you were just checked out by ems.

“t..” you sighs as he continues, his hand snow on either side of your face moving your head around still checking. “tyler.” you call him again, this time your hands gripping his wrists.

his eyes meet yours, the sign of tears still staining your cheeks. “i’m okay, i promise” you assure, smiling. “jus glad you made it to me, how’d you know?”

tyler shrugs, “the wind started morning north, learned it from you.” he answers, coming to your side and pulling you in.

you stay there for a while, the sirens flooding your ears and the lights illuminating the place where your home once stood. tyler rubs your shoulders and pulls the emergency blanket tighter around your body.

you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arm around his. “is now a bad time to ask if you want to live with me?” he looks down at you.

“what?” you look up at him.

and maybe it wasn’t the right time, but he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to ask you.

“live with me. hell, bring your mom. i don’t care, just..” he reaches for your hand. “i just know that i love you and i want you around even more than you already are.” he laughs lightly, continuing to rub your shoulder.

“i would love to live with you.”

tyler smiles proudly, squeezing you closer to his side.

“now i just needa marry you.”

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hello lovely ~ gonna request what we were talking about~

Alastors antlers shedding♡ literally? Anything you wanna say about it

Shedding Season

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: Antlers being Shed, Alastor being clingy. 18+ as it does mention Alastor having a rut. Nothing graphic I promise

A/N:This is my take on how he would deal with his antlers shed and how he deals with his rut.

Alastor finds himself needing help with shedding his antlers. You decide to help him out

It started off fine for Alastor, at first it was more of an urge to stay near his lover, you, it didn’t really bother him as he was a busy man and had things to take care of but it got worse after a day or two. The urge to stay in your vicinity got worse as he got even more agitated than before if he strayed away from you or Satan forbid Lucifer or Husker got too close to you. Then it was the constant motion of him rubbing his face into your neck or shoulder when no one was around, you didn’t seem to mind one bit but it agitated him to no end. But the feeling went away once you carefully ran your fingers through his hair, brushing near his antlers and ever so carefully scratching which caused him to pull you closer to him. 

Then it was how his body was reacting, how he couldn’t even wear his own coat anymore. It was like every article of clothing was suffocating him and how he hated it so. The best course of action he thought of was hiding in his room away from prying eyes and ears as he snarled out rubbing his horns on one of the many trees in the bayou in his bedroom. He didn’t need you to see how pathetic he looked and felt, his sweet doe would never look at him the same if they saw him like this. He was sure of it. Despite being in his own room, the wind of the familiar bayou felt on his warm body wasn't enough for him. It wasn’t until he heard a knock on his bedroom door that sent his ears turning to the sound and his head snapping up in anger.

“Alastor? Darling?” You called out from the other side of his bedroom door, his heart pounded before he willed his way towards the door ignoring the pain his antlers were giving him. He shakily gripped the doorknob before opening it only a bit. “Yes, Dear?” He asked softly trying to keep his anger at bay as his chest heaved with every heavy breath. You softly smiled at him, “May I come in?” You asked, holding onto the door frame leaning closer to him.

He weighed the options for a moment before eventually allowing you into his room, finally noticing the small basket in your hands, he tilted his head confused. Closing the door behind you he watched as you sat on his chair and waved him over, “Come here you silly deer.” You teased, causing him to huff but he followed your directions as much as he wanted to argue, he knew better. Especially at this moment. You held out your hands to him, the basket on the side of the chair, he slowly held your hands as you pulled him to sit on the ground in between your legs, his back towards the chair. 

“Need a drink or something to snack on, Love?” You asked him as he shook his head silently, he was rarely ever silent. You reached up and gently rubbed his shoulders noticing how warm his skin felt. “You’re rut is around the corner isn’t it?” He froze at the mention of his rut as his hand reached up to rub at his face. “Yes..I do believe it’s that time of year again, Cher.” He replied the radio static filter from his voice was gone as he let out a deep heavy sigh. 

You reached down and grabbed a cold water bottle to hand to him. “Drink up, Al..I’m gonna try and help you get this velvet off your antlers okay?” You whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. Alastor could only nod and mumble out a warning but you’ve been through this rodeo with him before. You reached down to get the tools from the basket as well as some of his favorite snacks that you got from Rosie earlier today. “They might shed as well, Al..just let it happen okay?” You carefully brushed back his hair seeing as a few strands stuck to his head that was covered in sweat. He could only reply with a hum leaning his head back against you. You were gonna have to get him a cold rag soon as well.

As you began to slowly and carefully help get the velvet off of his antlers he let out a low groan closing his eyes as sweat covered his face and neck. “Want me to go get you a cold rag, Darlin?” You asked softly tilting his head back carefully watching as he opened his eyes, his everlasting smile had dropped a while ago. “No..not yet..” He whispered out, you went back to silently helping him knowing how overwhelmed he gets during these times. 

It was only after you had gotten all of the velvet off of his antlers that something hit the floor with a soft thud making Alastor jump nonetheless. You looked over after making sure you had everything put back up and noticed his two antlers had shed, making him grumble loudly as he leaned his head back into your stomach. “Come on, Al..let me go get a rag for your face and neck.” You whispered slowly getting up as he leaned forward watching you. “Take a sip of water and eat up, okay? I don’t need you dealing with your rut on an empty stomach.” He waved a hand towards you but did what you had asked of him.

The rest of the night was spent with him sitting between your legs as you carefully washed the sweat from his face and neck, whispering soft reassurances as he kept drifting in and out of sleep. Soft jazz playing in the background as his shadow carefully wrapped around your body.

He felt a million times better and he knew that the weeks of his rut would be over soon enough with you helping him with how uncomfortable it made him.

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy (part 2) | jayce talis x female reader

2.6k words

content: fawk it!! part two to jayce making reader a vibrator with hextech but it’s even more angst, even more dirty, and even longer than part one. enjoy!!

notes/warnings: 18+ minors dni, fingering + oral (female receiving), some sub/dom references, jayce whimpering + forced to watch (MWAH HA HA HA), jayvik quote reference bc i love them with my entire heart. let me know if i missed anything!!

ps: thank yall for reading wtf, i’ve only been on here for like a month and it’s been so sweet so thank yall. let me know your guesses for how this ends- sad or sweet?/?/? do they finally get everything out on the table... who knows!! - amethyst 💟

series masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You weren’t sure how long you’d slept for, but the steady circling of Jayce’s hand on your back was enough to make you want to stay there forever. The mirth quickly left you; that urge to remain with him was a weakness. You’d never let yourself feel bliss like this…it’s a one-way trip to hurt. He felt you begin to stir and pulled his arm away reluctantly.

“Welcome back to reality. We missed you here for a good,” Jayce glanced at his watch, “hour or so. Must’ve been a great power nap.”

You stretched a bit, “It was great.” You glanced toward his workbench, yawning, searching for anymore tricks up his sleeve. “That little invention of yours is even better, though.”

Jayce was back to his usual sheepish self, it was clear.

“Thanks.” Simple, concise.

You moved a bit, eyeing the man who’d been observing your every move. He noticed the way your gaze motioned up a bit, searching for something in your mind.

“You okay?”

A brow raised toward Jayce, “You cleaned me up?”

He was blushing again, then. That color splayed on his skin was one you’d come to love…no…like. You wished you were a sort of artist at that moment. You’d draw him all the time, the only constant being the lines around his soft smile and a tint across his face.

He shrugged, “Hygiene is important.”

You rose from the cushion of the seat, deliberately letting the blanket he’d given you fall.

“Such a gentleman.”

He looked you over. He was constantly etching the details of your skin into his brain, since he’d never know when it’d be the last time. His stare lasted until he realized you’d been putting your clothes back on, covering the very intricacies he’d been studying. An irritated huff escaped him at that.

You approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re the sweetest, golden boy.”

“Hey,” his hand latched onto your wrist. He’d thought of you beneath him, how pliable you’d been when he took control. But the moment had passed as quickly as it came and he found himself no longer as willing to fight you. There was so much he wanted to say. He could only get out one thing.

“When can I see you next?”

His optimism was enough to shatter you. It pretty much did every time you saw him. But the reality was that you were from Zaun. When you left here, there was nothing truly left for you but to return to the Undercity.

As much as you’d like to believe that he understood you, that he wasn’t like everyone else in Piltover, there was always a disconnect. Whenever he’d let slip tales of his encounters with people from “down there” or referred to the collective as a “them,” you grimaced. The rhetoric was something you’d grown used to and you didn’t blame him for his upbringing.

It was just that you experienced this before. When you let yourself fall for a man a few years ago. A man with a lot of empty promises.

He swore to you that keeping your secret was the best thing for you both, a claim of protecting your love. But when you found out that he got married to another woman, one from Piltover at that, you knew it was a lie. Their beautiful kid was just the Shimmer on top.

So when Jayce looked at you with longing, vocalizing his need for you to at least return to him, you couldn’t. Despite the pieces of you shattering consistently—his attempts to glue them back together were futile. You liked the disfigurement. You liked the constant reminder that people fucking suck.

You maneuvered around him, ignoring the slump in his shoulders.

“So this thing, can I have it?”

He cleared his throat, “Oh- um- it’s not exactly…ready.”

“Seems ready to me.”

“It’s not.” He walked over, standing protectively in front of it.

“But I just came,” you whispered, “like all over you and it…”

“Well I wouldn’t say all over…” on his face would’ve been better.

“It got the damn job done,” you outstretched your hand immediately. “So can a girl have it or not?”

“Sorry, but no.”

“Please?”

“You cannot have my prototype!”

“But I will be so gentle with it! Trust me!”

“Like you trust me?” He scoffed. He’d meant that to sound like a joke. Albeit poorly timed, he had no ill will. The way your face contorted and erased any jovial tone from you was jarring.

You turned and left without a word, ignoring his calls and an exasperated groan that echoed behind you.

——————

You were gonna find that damn thing. Sure, Jayce had pissed you off, but you needed it now…needed him. So here you were, scouring every area you could think of. You were desperate and the embarrassment of being caught was worth it.

The space between you the last week only made you more crazy. Nothing you tried came close to that day. Regardless of the annoyance you felt by his comment, it got to a point where you weren’t even mad about that anymore. You’d grown furious that he didn’t seek you out. You were absolutely fuming that you couldn’t just see him and fuck the disgruntlement out of each other like usual.

You were stubborn. It seems after two years he finally learned to be just as so.

He cleared his throat behind you, startling you.

“Funny seeing you here. I was just um- looking for…something I left here.”

“And that would be?”

“Um…” you continued to trace your hands over the various objects thrown in his drawer. “Just…” and jackpot. “Just this.”

He smirked at your mischievous half-smile. You were clearly proud of yourself, but he planned for this.

“I’m glad your scavenger hunt paid off…but as I said…you can’t have my prototypes.”

“Jayce-”

He shook his head, slowly stepping towards you, “Unfortunately you’d need this.”

A glimmer of blue suddenly appeared between you two.

“Wow.”

You’d never actually seen one of these crystals so close up. Jayce went on and on about how fragile they were—how important it was for you to never touch any of his work things. Oops.

You two were closer now, the fluorescent orb the only barrier between you.

“Jayce, it’s beautiful.”

His look of fulfillment deterred for a brief second, no longer excited at the prospect of taunting you. He was staring directly at you now. The fondness in your eyes, a lack of tension he seldom saw these days. You were stunning. Sure, the magic in his hands was alluring, but nothing compared to you.

“Beautiful…right…it is.”

You rarely missed one of these moments between you and Jayce. In fact, you had yearned for one all week. You just couldn’t shake that little gremlin on your shoulder, though, that told you this was the perfect opening.

You pushed up a bit, teetering on your toes, and kissed his lips gingerly. Pushing him towards the nearest chair felt like muscle memory. It helped that he was as eager as you were, leading you towards the seat.

You made a spectacle of trailing down his arms, kissing his neck, and whispering how good he was being. You didn’t have to check, you knew he was already hard. Probably dripping too.

When you motioned to undo his pants, he instinctively leaned his head back, relaxing into the chair.

He’d felt a tightness around his wrist and a clink.

Without even looking he huffed. “I didn’t know you still had those.”

“A girl never goes anywhere without her state-of-the-art hextech handcuffs, does she?”

You’d slyly bound one of his arms to the armrest, yanking the blue ball from his palm. While moving to combine it with his little creation you couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

“So…what do we do for the golden boy when he’s…not so good?” You looked around the room as if waiting for a reply. “Oh, I know!”

You slowly sat on the chair across from him, kicking off a shoe at a time. Then your pants. His eye contact lingered on you as always. He remained silent until you’d just been in underwear, not bothering to take off anything above that.

“I think we need to have Talis watch until he learns to behave.”

“Fuck-“

“Tsk, already off to a bad start.”

You slowly traced your hands down, removing the last article of clothing between you. You chuckled a bit, flinging the underwear toward him.

In the second he’d taken to observe your panties at his feet, you finally started in on yourself. The vibration was as good as you remembered, better.

You rubbed yourself slowly, looking at Jayce’s jaw hang across the room, he eyes fluttering closed with a groan.

“Look at me, look at how wet I am.”

He lowered his eyes, a free hand grasping at himself.

You stopped abruptly, “Jayce…I’ll only do this if you keep your hands off the merchandise.”

He whined at that, a pleading look in his eyes. “Please…”

“Do you want me to keep going or not?” You’d waved the thing around for emphasis, like a damn teacher at the academy. He’d choked up even more, it already glistening with your wetness over it.

The silence and removal of his hand were enough for you to resume, “Good job, baby.”

The lowest level vibration was good. It had you in a constant bliss comparable to when Jayce first used it. You need more. A second later, the speed increased. A surprised yelp resounded from you, looking at the man across from you.

“You’re right. This is…how’d you say…intuitive?”

“Oh god…” The thought of his creation working seamlessly for you had him weak. He’d put a lot of work into this, and watching was making him insane.

“You’re so smart, baby.” You sped up the circles on your clit, “nobody could make me feel like this.” The sensation increased on you again, your back meeting the couch, hips writhing towards the air and into the forsaken device. You were sure this type of goodness had to be illegal.

You couldn’t see him anymore, but the gasping from him spurred you on. You reached two fingers as best you could into you, but your arms were so short.

“Mmm…Jayce,” you called his name repeatedly. Needing that one particular sound from him. When a whimper finally echoed from him, you peaked to see a tear drip from his eye. His hand clawed at his chest and neck, finding no release at the ache in his pants.

He begged, then, “Please, please, please.”

You continued your increasingly quick rubs on yourself, breathing out your reply, “We both know you could get out whenever you wanted.”

It was true, but he was so caught up in you. The sound, the view, the euphoria filling his body. He made prototypes for a reason—each model requiring an escape or fail-safe only he knew. How stupid would it be to be trapped by my own tech, he’d thought.

With a swift pull, he was free, large strides booming towards you.

“Fuck, I need you so bad, sweetheart.”

He looked down and swatted your fingers away, replacing them with his own. The way he utilized his dexterity always shocked you. Pulses of his fingers softly rubbing inside of you made you incoherent. He observed your rubbing get frantic and off rhythm.

He slowly pulled his fingers from you, the absence painfully aware to you.

“Say it again,” the man urged. He’d even stopped your work on yourself.

“Wha- say what?” You were insatiable, this wasn't the time.

“That nobody could do this…make you feel this way.” He stared up at you, his lids half closed.

You reached out to him, a thumb falling under his eye. You softly wiped the tears from his cheeks, moving the rogue piece of hair out of his face.

“You did so good, Jayce.” You paused, thinking this was a boundary you shouldn't dare cross. Reason was far, though, completely out of your grasp. “There’s nobody. Nobody in this time or the next that could be as good as you are to me.”

The true weight of your statement was apparent for you both. It wasn’t just about how your bodies molded to each other, but rather the way you understood each other outside of this.

So he had to ask.

“You’re sure?”

“I trust you.” A light flashed in your eyes, “only you.”

There wasn’t much to be said, then. He immediately took hold of your wrist, urging you to start again. He simultaneously latched his mouth onto you, slurping you up like he was fucking famished.

Your hand cramped a bit, but you knew he had you. Not a beat was missed as he took the small vibration and turned it up to the max, jutting your clit up and down between you.

Your breath was gone. Between his strangled moans and the pure pleasure you were feeling, all you could do was grip at his hair.

“Jayce, please-“

He didn’t say much, just the sound of his mouth reverberating into you filled the room. The feeling of him whining made your eyes fall back. He knew this was a lot, but you deserved it.

“I can’t believe it…my sweet girl…finally using her words.”

He mumbled an apology for the break in sensation, reaching for your hand. He allowed the sensation of the couch in front of him to press into him, just enough to get him towards relief.

His mouth and hand found a pace that had you finally letting out the pressure that built inside of you. You shrieked, Jayce still sucking on you; he wanted every last drop of you. This was reward enough for him today.

He rose, seeing the dazed look on you, tears dripping from your eyes. He made sure to kiss them away on each side, the sting on his lips refreshing.

You leaned up on your elbows, nodding for him to get down beside you.

“Your turn-“

He motioned down, “Oh, I’m good actually.” The flower-like color found his face again.

“You never could last, golden boy.”

He pulled off the layers on him, laying down next to you in nothing. “You know I hate that…the golden boy thing.” He pulled a blanket over the two of you.

“You only hate it because of expectations,” you yawned and mumbled the rest to him. “You want to be a role model…I get it.” You turned to snuggle with him. “But there’s a sort of beauty in imperfection…”

He let the words linger in the air for a second. The ease with which you’d dropped such a profound idea in his lap was customary for you.

You’d changed his outlook on life, truly. It was why he’d secretly started working on something with the council. The distinction between Zaun and Piltover was something that needed a change. If not a complete overhaul, at least efforts made at integration. He wanted you to feel safe seeing him; the thought of you sneaking here every time physically ailed him.

But when he heard the breathing coming from you—he figured his brain had suffered the torment of him enough for one day.

You jolted awake a bit later. Jayce was asleep, snores emanating from his mouth. The sound was devastatingly sweet.

You slipped from him, quickly putting on your clothes. You didn’t want to do this. Not again. Not to him. But you truly couldn’t help it. If there was any tether between you and Jayce Talis, you’d rip it away every time.

With a sullen look, you turned to him again. You wished you could see his eyes now, having taken their studying of you for granted. You could only analyze his hair lying over his face, or the flare of his nostrils as he slept. It was certain, that whatever you couldn’t burn into your brain now would be lost forever.

Like you said, you weren’t an artist. You wished you were. You’d copy this sight in its entirety, because you were never coming back.

part three

[misctf]

I’m a Latino twink and I just got accepted into Alpha Delta Alpha but my fraternity brothers have been acting weird around me and I’ve overheard them talking about their “lost brother” and how something is “an abomination and needs to be fixed” there’s a party tonight and they’ve lent me some clothes I don’t want to wear them in case it’s some kind of prank

“Are you all fuckin’ serious?” Garrett Thompson cursed angrily, “Bros, what the actual fuck were you thinkin’?

“Dude, we tried our best!” One of his bros replied.

“Yeah! It wasn’t fuckin’ easy, bro.”

Garrett groaned and rubbed his temples. How could this be happening? How could... He figured it must’ve started at last year’s rager. One day, he’s a party animal. Lady’s man. Campus stud. Fuck, he lived quite the life. Then suddenly he’s a ghost. Some kind of accident. Total tragedy. Trapped between this world and the next. Just wandering around campus. Unseen, unheard, and worst of all- unable to get off. Months passed and as he wandered the frat house...

“Yooo bruh...” Jamie saw him, his eyes red from smoking weed, “Garrett is that you? So good to see you man.”

After months of not being seen, Garrett couldn’t believe it. Of course the stoner bro would make first contact. And Jaime- all too willing to delve into the occult- quickly started doing his research. Telling the other frat bros about Garrett.

“Dudes, hear me out.” Jaime slurred one night, “I know how to bring Garrett back.”

Garrett watched their plan unfold. Jaime rambling about some kind of magic and finding the perfect vessel. They would need some kind of anchor for Garrett’s spirit. He watched as they rummaged through old bins in their frat house and found his old jersey and clothes. Apparently getting some poor dumbass to wear his clothes would be all he needed to rejoin the living. But then things stalled. No one wanted to join Alpha Delta Alpha after Garrett’s accident. And no one wanted to wear some dead guy’s clothes. So, Garrett started to lose hope. Until...

“No fuckin’ way.” Garrett had thought when he saw you join the frat, “Bros!” He tried to yell, “You can’t let some fairy join! Dudes!”

But it was too late. When you joined, the frat was clearly uncomfortable. You weren’t exactly their ideal applicant. Lean and gay, you were certainly a first for Alpha Delta Alpha. And if the plan failed... well they’d be stuck with you... But it wasn’t just that. Some felt uncomfortable with the true purpose of you joining. Jaime’s plan was seen as an abomination by a few of them. But you largely ignored both the weird feelings you got and strange conversations you’d overhear tidbits of. Besides, they were your brothers.

And so when they came to you with some old clothes and told you to wear them, you did just that. After some initial hesitation, you stripped and picked up a jock strap. It was dirty, and carried a stale smell of sweat and cum. You cringed as you slowly pulled it up your legs, securing it around your cock and bubble butt.

“Fuck yeah.” Garrett said, watching you from the corner of the room. He grinned as he floated over and placed a hand on your cock, his eyes widening. It was brief, but he could actually feel the cloth of the jockstrap.  

You turned to inspect the other clothes, shifting uncomfortably at the sensation from your dick. Your tan cock started to lighten in color, becoming white with a thick, pink head. And as your bubble butt lost its padding and became thick with muscle, your cock started to grow. Inch after inch, it eventually settled on 5 inches soft. But you barely noticed these initial changes as you pulled up the basketball shorts. As they traversed your legs, the melanin in your skin broke down, turning your legs white. But it wasn’t just your skin that was changing. A forest of wiry leg hairs burst forth into existence, covering your now increasingly muscular calves and thighs. And as the shorts settled on your waist, you let out a moan.

“Fuck, he’s really enjoin’ this.” Garrett mumbled, watching as your muscular ass made contact with the bed, “Of course he is. Becomin’ a real fuckin’ man.” He grinned and sat next to you. His ghostly hand on your leg, “It’s basically jerking off.” He reassured himself as he wrapped his hand around your new cock.

You let out a moan as your cock hardened and bulged in your pants. You were always a bottom, rarely caring much about your cock. But now? Fuckkkkkkk.... It felt so good. Your mouth was agape, drool pooling as pleasure overwhelmed your brain. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this since you bottomed last. And in your haze, you looked down to see a hand. A ghostly hand.

“What?” Your eyes widened when you saw Garrett, “Oh fuck!”

Garrett pulled his hand away, “Dude! Shit! You can see me?” He could see the terror in your eyes, that only seemed to grow when he noticed his legs, “Okay, bruh... just chill.”

“No, no, no!” You say, “I...I...!”

“Stop fuckin’ talking and put the shirt on, bro.” Garrett insists, “Dude...” He grinned as he floated over to you, “I know you want this.” His hand rubbed up against the bulge in your pants, “You and me bro. Together. Come on.”

You bite your lip and resist letting out another moan. What the fuck was happening to you? What were these clothes doing to you? Did you want this? It would be nice, right? Would it? What would happen if you put the shirt on? You barely notice that the skin of your torso is becoming whiter. And your muscles are starting to expand. As you consider the possibility of becoming Garrett completely, your body is already moving in that direction. Before you can think more on this, Garrett’s ghost seemingly starts to sink into your body. His eyes are wide at first, he grins as he realizes he's being anchored.

“Wait...” You watch as your arm moves against your will and grabs the jersey, “Ohhhhhhhh....” You moan as your other hand grips your cock and starts to stroke.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and gasp. You look more and more like an Americanized Latino jock. Far from the twink you had been. And you cry out as the jersey is lowered onto your upper body. And as it settles into place, you groan. Muscles expand rapidly, filling out the jersey nicely. Your pecs become shelves- far from the lean musculature that got you compliments from all those tops. Your abs pop into existence, one by one. And you watch as your arms become a beefy mass of ripped triceps and biceps. Bulging with just slight movements. The strength flowing through you is so unfamiliar. So different. So...

“Fuck yeah bruh.” The words leave your lips without any input from your brain. The voice deep and dumb, “Dude, it feels so fuckin’ good to be alive.” You feel as your calloused hands roam your muscles, squeezing your pecs, “Nighty, nighty.”

And you feel yourself fading. Your mind wrapped warmly in thoughts of beer, football, and videogames. God, you couldn't wait to see your team play again. To grind up against someone at the club. What a life you were going to have now. A simplistic life. Garrett’s life. Your life...

Garrett grins as you settle on one identity, “Fuck....” He moans, “If dying meant doing that again...” He chuckles, “Alright, let’s...”

He strokes his cock and finds his favorite porno. Feminine moans fill the room, and Garrett breaths hard. Stroking faster- desperate. Growing frustrated as his cock softens. Not deriving the same pleasure that he used to. His mind wandering to post-game locker room showers. And his teammates' muscular bodies. And slowly, Garrett stops stroking his dick. His eyes start to widen.

“SHIT!”

Now, as he stands around his frat bros, he can’t help but wonder how he could be gay. How could Garrett Thompson, back from the dead, only want a dick up his ass? Garrett shakes his head and sighs. He couldn’t be angry at them... fuck they were so sexy. His eyes roam and he takes in their exposed muscular arms, and cocky grins. He imagines what they might be packing down there. What it might feel like to wrap his lips around their dicks. And his cock starts to stir.

“You good, bruh?”

Garrett snaps back to reality, “Yeah, yeah...” He flips them off, “You’re lucky you’re all so cute, you fuckers.”

The other bros looked at one another, sly grins forming on their faces. After all, Garrett owed them for all the trouble they went through. Right?

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 16 (The End)

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Penultimate chapter! Bashing of like...every IC member, though we have now reached the point where Rhys and Cassian are the good guys, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

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

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Which one of you blabbed? he seethed mentally to Rhys. Guess who came to a visit.

Azriel was seething with rage. He could sense Zahra's hurt, her anger, the emotional turmoil simmering beneath her calm exterior. She was protecting him, defending him, shielding him from her sisters...and it only fueled his anger further.

He wanted to step in, to shield her from everything, to protect her from the harm her sisters were capable of causing. But Zahra was standing tall, her gaze steady, as she faced her sisters. Let her have this moment, Rhys' voice whispered in his mind. Cassian and I are on our way. 

"We don't want to take anything from you," Feyre broke the silence, her voice wavering. "That's not..."

But Zahra shook her head sharply. "No. It doesn't matter what you want," she said coldly. "What matters is what you have been doing. You have spent the last few years ignoring me. You have all but disowned me. You have constantly reminded me that Ia m nothing to you. The constant reminders that I am nothing to you. You have all but disowned me. And now, you come here and expect me to give everything up? For what? For you? For the family that never once treated me as one of them?"

The words hung heavy in the air. Zahra's voice was unwavering, her gaze unwavering. Azriel's chest ached with the need to protect her. His hands itched to shield her, to hold her, to comfort her. But he stayed back, his body rigid with restraint. 

This…This she had to do on her own. He knew that she was strong enough for it. Zahra was so strong. So utterly strong. So resilient. She could do this on her own, she needed to proof to herself, that she could do this on her own. 

Elain's eyes were watering, her hands clutching at the fabric of her dress. "I...I didn't know," she whispered.

Azriel really wondered what Elain was thinking to keep insisting on this. He didn’t believe for one moment that there hadn’t been signs. That Zahra had succeeded in hiding away every single bruise, every single injury so well that her sisters couldn't have noticed if they actually cared about. 

Zahra snorted at that moment, the sound harsh. There was no true amusement in her voice as she answered: "Of course, you didn't," she said dryly. “I did everything so that you wouldn’t find out. I was willing to take that secret to the grave with me.“

“Why?” Nesta demanded

“Because I shouldn’t have to sacrifice myself to make you act like you care,” Zahra snapped.

It was so obvious from her tone…the pain, the anger…a wound that had cut deep, that had never healed. 

Zahra stepped towards her sisters, her eyes burning with a fire that Azriel had never seen before. "You never once asked," she said, her voice rising. "You never once tried to even act like you cared about me. You buried your heads in the sand while I went through hell alon.."

Her words echoed in the silence that followed, the weight of her pain and her anger palpable in the air. Elain was openly crying now, soft sobs escaping her. Feyre was pale, her hands trembling. But Zahra's gaze was fixed on Nesta, a glare laced with bitterness and anger.

"You have absolutely no idea what I went through," Zahra continued, turning her gaze upon Nesta. "The pain, the shame, the humiliation. You never once even wondered why I should have an affair with him. Instead you made fun of me. Instead you treated me even worse. You never once wondered where I got the money from. You should have known that Feyre’s hunting wasn’t enough to sustain us! If I didn’t do what I had to, we would have all starved!“

Azriel's heart ached with each word that came out of Zahra's mouth. The pain, the anger, the years of pent up emotion was finally coming out, the dam broken.

She was not holding back, her words sharp and scathing, aimed directly at her sisters. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by Elain's soft sobs.

Nesta's mouth had dropped open, her eyes wide with shock. "You...you did that for us?"

Zahra laughed bitterly. "Who else, Nesta? Who else would it have been for? I did what I had to do to keep the rest of you alive."

Elain's sobs had escalated to loud, hitching gasps. Feyre's face was ghost-white, her hands twisted together in a white-knuckled grip. But Nesta looked as if Zahra had slapped her, the words a blow to her very core.

“Even when you never treated me like your sister, you are mine.”

Everything wrapped up neatly in one single sentence. It was a death knell. 

A killing blow. 

And he loved her all the more for it. He couldn’t help but marvel at the strength she possessed. She was the strongest, bravest person he had ever met, and the knowledge that he was hers filled him with a sense of possessive pride.

Elain was openly weeping now, tears streaming down her face. Feyre was silent, her eyes wide, her hands clutched to her chest. But Nesta's face was a mask of shock, pain, and shame.

"I did it all for you," Zahra continued, her voice cracking slightly, "and yet, not once did you show me a shred of care. You never once even asked if I was alright."

Her words echoed in the silence, the truth of them hanging in the air like a thick, suffocating fog. The pain, the loneliness, the rejection. It was all there, laid bare for her sisters to see. And it was clear from their stunned, guilty faces that they were seeing it all for the first time.

No one spoke. No one moved. The only sounds were Elain's sobs and Zahra’s ragged breaths. Azriel wanted so badly to cross the room, to hold her in his arms, to take away the pain he knew was coursing through her.

So he did.

Just in time to feel more than hear the arrival of Cassian and Rhys.

Azriel's eyes met Cassian's, and he saw the surprise and concern written on his brother's face. Rhys' expression mirrored the same emotions, his eyes darting between his mate and Zahra.

Azriel pulled Zahra against him, wrapping her in a tight embrace, shielding her from her sisters' gazes. He could feel the tremors running through her body, the aftershocks of the emotional storm she had just weathered.

“I thought I told you to leave her be,” Rhys said, his voice even.

Azriel didn't loosen his hold on Zahra, his arms still tight around her. He felt her sag against him, weary and emotionally drained.

“We just wanted…” Feyre protested weakly. “We were worried."

“Zahra was with Azriel. What was there to be worried about?” Cassian said drily.

“She’s our sister,” Elain burst out, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “We were just worried for her.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. Worried for her, now? After all these years? It was too little, too late.

"Now you're worried," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "And where was this worry all those years when she was suffering?"

“Az…” Zahra murmured, her voice soft and broken and he pressed a kiss against his wife’s head

Azriel's anger faded slightly at the sound of her voice. The vulnerability, the sheer rawness of emotion in her words made his heart ache. He held her tighter, his eyes still fixed on her sisters.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” Rhys said sharply. “She doesn’t owe you anything and respecting her choices is the least you can give her, if you ever want her to actually talk to you again. If you truly, actually want to try and make amends.”

Elain and Feyre looked stricken, their eyes filled with guilt and remorse. Even Nesta was looking at Zahra, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“But we…we never meant...” Feyre started, only to falter under Rhys’ glare.

“You never meant?” Rhys repeated, his voice hard. “You never meant to hurt her? You never meant to ignore her existence, to never once show any care for her? You didn’t meant to disrespect her choices? Again? For cauldron’s sake, Feyre!”

Zahra flinched at Rhys’ raise voice.

She’s waking, the shadows whispered at that moment.

Given her an out that she needed desperately. 

“Go take care of Azalea,” he whispered in Zahra’s ear. He could nearly feel some imperceptive tension in her frame ease at the sound of their daughter’s name. 

She nodded, giving him a quick squeeze before gently slipping from his embrace. 

The tension in the room felt like a physical weight, the air thick with it.

Azriel couldn't help but watch as his wife walked out of the living room, the door of their bedroom closing behind her.

Silence descended again after she left, the room seeming suddenly empty without her. Azriel turned his attention back to her sisters, meeting their gazes with a cold glare. His gaze lingered on Nesta. The oldest sister, the one who should have protected Zahra, the one who should have seen and understood her struggles. Instead, she had been the most hurtful, the most dismissive.

“How could you?” he said finally, his voice a low rumble, “How could you just ignore her? Your sister? For two decades you just…you just acted like she didn’t exist. And she believed it. She believed she was nothing to you.”

Silence met his words, all three sisters looking guilty and distraught. Even Cassian was quiet, his face grave as he looked at the aftermath of Zahra's emotional upheaval.

Azriel wanted to shake them, to make them understand the depth of the pain they had caused, the damage they had done. He had seen it for himself, the way Zahra had believed she was nothing, the way she had resigned herself to a life of being invisible, of being nothing to her own family.

"How can you say you care for her now," he snarled, his voice sharp, "after you let her suffer alone for so long? How can you pretend that your worry means anything to her after all these years?"

Elain was still crying openly, her hands clutched to her chest. Feyre looked like she was struggling to hold back her tears. But it was Nesta who finally spoke, her voice quiet but intense with emotion.

"We…we never knew…" she whispered. "We should have seen it…should have asked her, should have realized what she was going through…"

Azriel's anger flared again. "You should have," he agreed. "You should have cared enough to ask, to notice, to remember that she was your sister. But you didn’t. You just ignored her, left her alone, abandoned her."

He sighed, the anger embering in his gut. 

“And you know what’s the worst part?” he asked Nesta sharply. “She’ll forgive you. One day, she will forgive you, because you are her sisters. Because she loves you more than you ever deserved her to. Because she’s good right to the bone. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that people don’t take advantage of that part of her,” Azriel said sharply.

The sisters flinched at his words, the truth of them a blow. Feyre looked at him, her eyes pleading, her face wet with tears. Azriel held her gaze, his expression stern.

He knew that Zahra would forgive them one day. He knew that because he knew her heart. And that was what angered him the most. They didn’t deserve her forgiveness, they didn’t deserve her love.

But he also knew that Zahra's forgiveness would not come easily. It would not come without effort, without remorse, without proof that they truly regretted their actions. And even then, he knew it might never truly heal the wounds they had inflicted. 

"Zahra will forgive you," he said coolly, "because she is good and kind. But do not take her forgiveness for granted. Do not presume that she will give it without you earning it."

Nesta nodded, her face white, her gaze fixed on the floor. Azriel could see the guilt, the pain etched into her features. But he knew that it was not enough. Not yet.

"It will take time," he said quietly, "and effort. And you will have to prove, again and again, that you understand the depth of your actions, the harm you caused. And even then, it might not be enough. Because she is my wife now, and she and our daughter are my first priority."

“”From where exactly do you have a daughter?” Feyre blurted out. “She wasn’t…Zahra wasn’t pregnant, was she?”

“The shadows kidnapped her,” he said drily. “They have moral issues with keeping babies in dungeons.”

Feyre's eyes widened, her mouth dropping in shock. Elain gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Even Nesta looked taken aback.

He couldn't help but feel a small pang of satisfaction at their dumbfounded expressions.

***

Zahra had retreated to the safety of the small bedroom, the door tightly shut behind her. The pain, the anger, the years of pent up emotions had all come bursting out in a wave that had left her trembling.

She laid down on the bed, burying her face into the pillow. The sobs came again, a shuddering, bone-deep release of emotion.

Her mind replayed the words she had said, the emotions that had spilled out, the hurt and the pain laced through her voice. It had needed to be said, the truth needed to be laid out. But the aftermath was…messy. The look on her sisters' faces, the shocked expressions…

She couldn't bear to think about it, not right now. All she could do was sob, sobbing into the pillow, her body shaking with the force of her emotions.

A soft coo next to her, and she looked up to find Azalea sleepily reaching out for her.

The sight of her baby girl made her throat constrict. Azalea was blinking up at her, her little hand reaching out for her. The sound of her soft coo only fueled the emotions churning in Zahra's chest.

She reached out, picking up their daughter and cradling her close against her chest. Azalea snuggled against her, her tiny body warm and familiar.

Azalea never screamed. Or cried. Or demanded attention unless she could see them… then she sometimes gave a questioning soft coo, wanting them to interact with her.

Zahra found comfort in the familiarity of her daughter's presence. Azalea was quiet, always quiet, yet always observing, always needing to be part of the action.

She held her tight, her cheek pressed against the soft, downy hair. Azalea cooed again, her hand coming up to pat Zahra's face, almost as if she knew her mother needed comfort.

The tears continued to fall, sliding down Zahra's cheeks and disappearing into Azalea's hair. The pain and the hurt still burned deep, but holding her daughter helped blunt the raw edges. 

She sat there, rocking back and forth gently, her eyes closed, focusing on the weight and warmth of her daughter in her arms, the steady rhythm of Azalea's breathing. Slowly, slowly, her sobs quieted, her racing heart slowing down its panicked pace.

“Come on, let’s go see Daddy.” She said softly.

Azalea cooed in response, her big, innocent eyes looking up at her. Zahra couldn’t help but smile, as she lifted her in her arms, settling her against her hip. 

She stood up, holding Azalea close against her, and made her way towards the door. The silence in the rest of the house was stifling, as if the whole building was holding its breath. Zahra paused outside the door, her heart pounding.

What was happening out there? What were her sisters thinking? What was Azriel thinking?

She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and pushed open the door.

The battle lines had clearly been drawn.

Azriel was standing by the kitchen, his back to the door. His shoulders were tense, his hands clenched into fists. Her sisters were on the other side…Cassian and Rhys right there in the middle, clearly ready to throw themselves in the fray if something did happen.

The silence seemed thick enough to cut with a knife.

Zahra stepped into the room, her heart in her throat. All eyes turned to her, Azriel the first to turn around. His face softened as he took in her appearance - Azalea in her arms, her eyes red and puffy, her face streaked with dried tear tracks.

He held out his hand for her and she fitted herself against his side. His eyes were soft, full of concern and love, but there was a hardness to his features, a flicker in his gaze. He reached out to brush his knuckles over her cheek.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice low. His hand moved to the baby in her arms, gently touching Azalea’s soft hair.

“I will be,” she whispered, looking up at him. The warmth of his touch, the understanding in his eyes eased some of the remaining pain, some of the hurt. “I just...I needed to hold her for a bit.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment longer before turning to her sisters and the High Lord and Cassian. His expression hardened, his protective instincts clearly flaring at the thought of what they had done to her.

They remained silent, their gazes shifting between her and Azriel. It was Feyre who finally spoke, her voice hesitant.

“Zahra...we -”

“Don’t,” Zahra interrupted, her voice weary but firm. She didn’t want to hear their apologies, not yet. She couldn’t stomach that. Not right now. 

Azriel’s arm slipped around her waist, supporting her.

“I’ll need time,” Zahra said weakly.

“And you’ll have it,” Azriel said firmly, his arm tightening around her. He met the gazes of her sisters, his eyes hard as steel. “As much time as you need.”

”I am so sorry,” Feyre breathed, her eyes fixed on Azalea.

Zahra couldn’t help herself as she pulled her daughter nearer to herself.

Azriel tensed beside her, his arm around her waist like a vise. The sight of her sister’s apology, the look on her face...it was too much, too soon. Zahra took a ragged breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions in her chest.

“I need time,” she repeated, somehow managing to keep her voice from shaking too badly. “I - I just...I need time.”

Feyre nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I understand,” she choked out. “I just...I never wanted to hurt you, but I did and I…”

Zahra felt Azriel's grip on her tighten, his body rigid with barely controlled anger.

She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her palm. “It’s alright,” she repeated, more for his benefit than her sisters’.

She couldn’t look at Feyre anymore, the sight of her tears making her own heart ache. She turned her gaze to the other two, her eyes locking with Nesta and Elain.

They were watching her silently, a mix of guilty sorrow and regret on their faces. Elain’s usually soft features were pinched with shame, Nesta’s cold expression betraying a hint of remorse.

And they were staring at her baby. “What’s…what’s her name?” Nesta asked, her voice shaky.

“Azalea,” Azriel answered, his voice hard. Zahra felt a flicker of satisfaction at his cold tone. He wasn’t going to forgive them easily, not after witnessing the pain they had caused her.

Elain looked stricken, her eyes wide. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. Nesta simply nodded, her eyes glued to the baby.

Zahra felt a small pang in her heart at Elain’s words. She knew the compliment was sincere, but there was also a pang of hurt, a reminder of the years of silence, the years of being ignored.

She pulled Azalea closer, her grip instinctive and protective.

Azriel’s hand was rubbing circles on her hip, grounding her, reassuring her. 

“Thank you,” Zahra brought out.

“She looks like Azriel,” Nesta said suddenly.

“She is biologically his niece,“ Cassian said flatly. “But she is Azriel’s and Zahra’s daughter.”

There was a moment of silence, the statement echoing through the room. Azriel’s breath hitched beside her, his grip on her hip tightening for a moment. The implications of the words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the unconventional ways in which Azalea had come to be.

Zahra, however, felt a strange sense of calm. The words were merely stating a fact, a truth that could not be denied. “She’s ours,” she agreed with Cassian, sticking out her chin, daring her sisters to say something. But they didn’t.

Nesta swallowed. “Congratulations,” she said softly, much to Zahra’s shock. “She’s adorable.”

Zahra blinked, surprised at the unexpected well wish. The words seemed almost genuine.

“Thank you,” Zahra murmured, her voice soft.  Azriel’s hand tensed on her hip again, his protectiveness on full display. Zahra could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his eyes flicking between her sisters and their daughter.

The room was filled with a strange sort of tension. She should have known that it was gonna be Cassian that had absolutely no problem with breaking it with a bright grin, waggling his fingers in Azalea's direction who immediately reached out for him.

“She likes me,” the general chuckled, his usual easy smile plastered on his face. "I am clearly the favourite uncle."

Rhys rolled his eyes, the tension breaking somewhat. “She just want to grab your fingers, you oaf.”

“Nah, she’s smart, she knows who the cool uncle is,” Cassian retorted, reaching out to hold Azalea’s little hands in his bigger ones. Azalea cooed, grabbing hold of his fingers with a serious expression, her tiny hands looking laughably small in his grasp.

Azriel rolled his eyes but the tension in his shoulders relaxed a little, his gaze fixed on their daughter. It was hard, even for him, to stay completely serious and protective when the Lord of Bloodshed was making funny faces at Azalea and she was giggling like a little maniac.

Zahra couldn’t help but smile at the scene, the tension in the room slowly easing. 

Azalea’s giggle was like a ray of sunshine, bright and pure. She was usually quite reserved, her emotions more often than not kept hidden, but she was clearly enjoying the attention.

Cassian, meanwhile, couldn’t resist the temptation to start pretending he was eating her fingers, making exaggerated ‘nom nom’ sounds and grinning widely when Azalea shrieked with delight.

Even Azriel couldn’t help but smile at the sight, the corner of his lips curving up. It was impossible not to be charmed by Azalea’s infectious happiness.

Feyre chuckled, her earlier tears wiped away now. Even Rhys and Nesta looked less tense, their gazes on Azalea as she continued to pull on Cassian’s fingers.

There was a part of Zahra that wanted to hold on to the good moment, to bask in the relief provided by Azalea’s laughter and Cassian’s antics. But the elephant in the room was still there…

She knew there was more that needed to be said, more that needed to be discussed. The pain, the hurt, the years of silent isolation… She couldn’t simply ignore it all now just because Azalea was being cute.

Despite this, she didn’t know how to start, how to voice her hurt without the pain and the anger taking over again.

Azriel seemed to sense her turmoil, his hand on her hip moving to the small of her back, gently rubbing soothing circles.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice steeling. "We will talk. Soon. But not now. When I am ready. And not when you decided that you need to apologise because you feel bad."

Her sisters nodded, their expressions solemn. It was Feyre who spoke up, her eyes wide and sincere.

“Of course,” she said, her voice low. “We will wait until you’re ready, just… just know that we do want to change, to fix things…”

Nesta and Elain nodded silently, their gazes fixed on Azalea who was still grabbing at Cassian's fingers.

Azriel’s hand on her back began to rub soothing circles again, his silent support grounding her. She took comfort in his presence, in the knowledge that he was right behind her, ready to back her up.

“We understand,” Nesta spoke up suddenly, her voice more firm than it had been before. “We will be patient. We will wait.”

Even Elain, who was usually the more soft-spoken sister, nodded emphatically. 

Azriel's hand on her back tensed, but he remained silent. His whole body was taut with suppressed anger and the need to protect, but he held himself in check, letting her handle the conversation.

“Thank you,” Zahra said quietly, her voice a little stronger now. 

Feyre smiled softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “We won’t try to make excuses or to justify our actions,” she said, her words firm like a promise. “We messed up, we own that. We’ll wait until you’re ready and then we’ll listen. No interruptions, no excuses, no defenses.”

Zahra would believe that when she experienced it.

Azriel's hand on her back continued rubbing soothing circles, as if sensing the scepticism in her mind. He was still wary of her sisters, unwilling to trust their word so easily.

But he was also willing to take her lead on this.

Azriel was many things, but he respected boundaries and choices. He would always give her the space and the time she needed to deal with things her own way, while still being a steadying presence, a quiet strength by her side.

Despite his reservations, he was trying hard to keep his own anger and opinions to himself. But she knew him well enough to sense the tension in his body, the way his muscles kept clenching and unclenching, evidence of the restraint it was taking him to keep quiet.

The others in the room likely noticed it as well. Nesta and Elain were both discreetly watching him, their expressions wary. Even Cassian, who was usually oblivious to these things, was stealing quick glances in his direction.

“Just… just give me some time,” she said quietly, her eyes flickering to each of her sisters in turn. They all nodded, their faces solemn.

Cassian was the next to speak, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Take as much time as you need, Zahra.”

It was strange, hearing a tone from the usually brash and boisterous general she hadn’t thought him capable of. But his words were genuine, his expression sincere. And coming from Cassian, saying that was just one more reminder of how much her relationship with her sisters had been damaged.

Azriel's hand on her back squeezed briefly, a silent signal of his agreement.

The others remained quiet, their gazes flickering between her and Azriel. It was a strange dance they were all doing, a careful balancing act of emotions and words left unsaid.

But it was something. Something closer to peace than she ever thought she would have.

"Whatever you need," Rhysand promised, fiercely. The High Lord’s voice was firm and unwavering, the power evident in his words.

Zahra could sense the sincerity in them, the genuine regret and determination. It wasn’t enough yet, not nearly enough after all that had happened, but it was a start.

It was something.

The support from her sisters, the promises from Rhysand and Cassian…

They were something. A foundation to start rebuilding on.

The road to forgiveness would be long and rocky, she was sure of that. 

Azriel's hand on her back squeezed again, silently reassuring her.

Her eyes met his for a brief moment, the look in them speaking more than any words could.

In the warm, deep hazel of his eyes she saw worry, determination, a hint of anger and a lot of love. She saw acceptance and support, understanding and patience.

And she knew that no matter what she decided, no matter how long it took her, he would be there with her. Always.

***

Notes:

I could probably write another 16 chapters in this story, but I do feel like right now it's an alright space to stop. A bit of an open ending, with a kinda hopeful look in the future.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Could you write more Eddie x shy!reader it was so good! Maybe with her staying the night for the first time?

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

You stood on the porch of Eddie's trailer feeling anxiety coursing through you. You looked down at the duffel bag in your hand then back at the door that you were waiting for Eddie to answer, your anxiety getting worse as you heard his footsteps getting closer.

The door flew open and he was on the other side, a wide grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of you. It had only been a few weeks since the two of you made it official but he still got so giddy when he was around you, never able to keep that goofy grin on his face.

"C'mon in," he took you by the hand and led you inside, shutting the door behind you. "So this is the place," he gestured to the interior of the trailer and you took it in, immediately feeling comfort once you stepped inside.

"It's nice," you told him. "It feels really cozy." Eddie took that as a huge compliment. His whole life, he had been teased for living in the trailer park, but he never saw a problem with it. Just because it wasn't a house didn't mean that it wasn't a home.

"Well, I've got mac and cheese on the stove and I picked up a movie from Family Video for us to watch."

"That sounds great," you smiled and he couldn't help but mimic it, pulling you closer to him by your attached hands. He then grabbed hold of your chin with his free hand, tilting your head back so he could press a kiss to your lips.

He then grabbed hold of your duffel bag once he pulled away, leading you to his room. He pulled you inside and set your bag on his bed before turning to you, resting his hands on your waist. He then went in for another kiss, this one deeper than the one you had just shared.

Eddie was trying to take it slow with you. He knew that you had never been in a relationship and wanted to go at your pace. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable, that you were in control of the whole thing. He wanted everything to be perfect for you.

He felt your tongue swipe along his bottom lip and he panicked. In the few weeks the two of you been together, your kisses had never gotten that far. Because if they did, they could easily escalate to sex and he didn't want to pressure you into that.

But he let you in anyway, not able to resist and your tongue swirled around his, an involuntary moan falling from your lips. Eddie could feel himself getting hard at the sound of it and he quickly pulled away from you, hoping that you hadn't been able to feel it against you.

"We should stop," he said, licking his lips and you nodded, understanding that he was wanting to take things slow. You were grateful that he was willing to do so for your sake.

"You're right," you nodded again. "Did you say something about mac and cheese?"

"I did," he smiled and took you by the hand once again before leading you to the kitchen. Just like Eddie promised there was in fact a pot of the pasta sitting on the stove.

He grabbed a couple of bowls from one of the cabinets and you didn't miss how the bottom of his shirt rose, revealing his stomach. You almost wanting to reach out and touch it, but you stopped yourself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

You watched him fill your bowl and he handed it to you before serving himself some and he then led you to the living room. He motioned for you to sit on the couch while he put in the movie. While it started up, Eddie sat next to you, watching you enjoy the meal he made for you as you stared at the screen. You were so adorable and he still couldn't believe that you were his. That out of everyone, you wanted to be with him.

You half expected the movie to be horror, but to your surprise, it was romcom you had told him about multiple times. You knew it wasn't his thing so it warmed your heart that he had rented it just for you.

Once you finished your dinner, the two of you snuggled up, you tucked into his side, your arms holding onto each other. You decided that you could have been happy staying there forever, wrapped up in his arms. It was the most comfortable you had been in so long and it felt like home.

The movie hadn't even reached the halfway mark when you drifted off to sleep. Eddie almost wanted to wake you up, but you just looked so cute, so at peace. So he waited until the credits rolled to carry you to bed. He scooped you up with ease and saw your eyes open slowly, a drowsy smile forming on your lips.

"I'm not ready for bed," you pouted and he just laughed.

"Clearly you are since you fell asleep."

"I don't want to," you whined.

"Think about it this way, going to bed means we get to cuddle and you love cuddles, right?" He asked and you just nodded.

"Then let's go." He carried you to his room and set you on his bed. "Is it okay if I pull out some pajamas for you?" He asked, not wanting to go through your things without your permission.

"Mhm," you nodded, scrubbing at your eyes with the backs of your hands.

Eddie opened your duffel and thankfully, your pajamas were on top. He reached for them then moved to where you were sitting, handing them to you before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once you were dressed, you joined him, your toothbrush in hand.

You both brushed your teeth and it almost seemed like you were a married couple getting ready for bed. That was something you found yourself imagining to help you fall asleep every night. And maybe if you played your cards right, in a few years, Eddie would be your fiancé.

After your teeth were brushed, you followed Eddie to the bed. You each stood on either side and got in, scooting closer to the middle where you met, getting snuggled up, pressing your chest to his and tangling your legs together.

"Good night, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips before clicking off the lamp behind him.

"Goodnight, Eddie," you whispered back and snuggled further into his chest beforw the two of you drifted off to sleep, both knowing that you were definitely going t make having sleepovers a regular thing.

[steddieas-shegoes]

At ten years old, Eddie’s mama gets a raise at work just in time for Christmas. This is the same year Wayne works enough to set aside almost $200 for Eddie’s Christmas presents.

Eddie doesn’t know this, and he’s a kid who knows better than to expect more than a few things in his stocking and one or two “bigger gifts” -usually books or tapes- so it’s a surprise when his stocking is overflowing and there’s a huge box under the tree Christmas morning.

Even more surprising is that it’s labeled from Santa, and Eddie hasn’t believed in Santa for nearly three years despite everyone in his classes still believing. He bounces on his feet while he waits for Wayne to get his coffee, for his mama to finish making their special hot chocolate.

The year he gets his first guitar is also the year he finds out his mama can sing like a rock star.

It’s the year he finds out Wayne used to play bluegrass at a bar back home and probably could’ve made it big if he was willing to leave his sister.

It’s the year Eddie finds out he can play by ear and uses it to his advantage to learn all his favorite songs as soon as he figures out the chords.

And for years, he is quick to pull out his acoustic to learn something new, even when he manages to buy his electric with money from helping fix cars at the shop where his uncle’s friend works.

After he saves Hawkins, and his hands stop shaking enough for him to play, he asks Steve to bring his acoustic to the hospital so he can entertain himself. Steve shares a look with Wayne, then his mama.

“It, uh, didn’t survive…everything.”

Nothing broke his heart quite like hearing that.

He pretends it’s okay though, doesn’t want his mama and Wayne to feel worse than they already did about everything.

He tables his emotions until he’s alone that night, shortly after dinner when everyone goes home to get some rest before the next day of volunteering, and cleaning, and visiting.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door opening, and even though the person coming in is trying to be quiet, the door creaks from the building settling funny during the “earthquake.”

“Steve?”

Steve turns and even in the dark, Eddie can see his blush.

He’s holding something.

Something big and guitar shaped.

“What have you done?”

Steve walks over to him and gently sets the guitar case in his lap.

Eddie opens it and sees a gently used acoustic with Eddie’s name now engraved on the side.

“Steve.”

“You can have nice things. You should have nice things. We don’t have many options right now, but at least you won’t get rusty.”

Eddie cried.

Steve held him.

And after Steve wiped his tears away and kissed his forehead—which was something they’d be talking about as soon as Eddie could focus on something other than the guitar in his lap— he played slower songs, songs that even Steve could recognize, until a nurse realized Steve was here past visiting hours and kicked him out.

When his mama saw it the next morning propped by his bed, she smiled knowingly.

“I see the boy followed through.”

“What?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about guitars and what your old one looked like and if a used one would be okay. Don’t know how he found one so quick.”

“He’s pretty determined when he sets his mind to something.”

“I think he’s set his mind on you, baby.”

Eddie thought maybe she was right.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 You Says.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: After a rough night and some misunderstandings, Spencer needs to do everything he can to make things right with you and get his relationship back on track. The problem is, things aren't so easy for you, and he's willing to do anything you ask, even take care of you when no one else will.

Words: 3,1k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of crime and trauma. fem!reader. angst+comfort. reader gets sick (nothing serious, just a normal cold). second chance yep. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Ok, I didn't think of doing a second part before, but reading my own work made me so sad😭 the cat deserves happy parents (we are the cat) but I warn you that I do not believe in magic apologies.

I. I Love You, I’m Sorry.

Spencer had been losing his mind since the last time he saw you in person, and it was all his fault. From the moment the door to his apartment closed behind you and the oven beeped, he began to feel the broken pieces of his heart that you had once held together unravel and shatter even more. He hated himself for letting his insecurities get in the way of the one good thing he had managed to have over the past few years, and for pushing you away when you didn't want to. You had been his exception among all the bad things that had happened in his life for as long as he could remember, the only one that didn't seem to want to be temporary and left him when he least expected it. And he himself had forced you out of his life, even when you didn't want to, begging him with tear-filled eyes for a little remorse that he didn't give you.

Just a few hours after the incident, he tried to go to work as if nothing had happened to clean up the mess the leak had made and put the killer in jail. He brought Penelope the promised cookies and your computer for her to examine because it felt right at the time. Part of him needed her to find real proof of your betrayal so he could stop feeling bad about making you cry and saying such ugly things to you.

Then he found out that you were telling the truth and that your computer contained nothing but photos of the two of you, all the articles he had ever written or been mentioned in your searches, and a few writings in which you poured out all your love for him in the cheesiest and most poetic way possible. You loved him, you really did, and there was no evidence to the contrary, because even Garcia could later assure him that the information had come anonymously and had been bought for five hundred dollars. But it was too late, because he had given you a conviction without even knowing it.

That's when he started to fixate on making amends for what he'd done. Every time you left work, bouquets of your favorite flowers with notes asking for forgiveness and wishing you a good night began to appear in your car. He also made a point of stopping by to talk to you and repeat how sorry he was. You knew this would happen when he realized his mistake. You had told him before you left, and that's why you refused to see him. It was good that the security guards at your workplace didn't let him in, even with his FBI credentials. The tricky part was your building because the doorman already knew him and let him in normally thanks to the excuses Spencer made up, even though you said a thousand times that he shouldn't have.

And that was happening again, for the fifth or sixth time in the last few days.

“Please, just let me talk to you and tell you how sorry I am. Listen to me for a moment.” You could hear Reid's voice from the other side of the door.

You didn't say anything. You just sat with your back against the door and one hand on your heart, as if you were trying to hold it. It didn't even cross your mind that he was in the same situation.

“Just a few minutes, please."

Once more, you remained silent.

Silence was the worst answer someone could give. You knew it, and it hurt to have to do it with him. But you had no choice because you knew that by looking into his eyes for just a few seconds, all the bad things would dissipate and maybe you would even forgive him without thinking just because of the love you had for him. You didn't like being this vulnerable and having so many feelings for someone who didn't trust you.

Lately, you've been spending every waking moment wondering what you could have done to make him believe that you were really capable of betraying him in such a cruel and selfish way. You were the one who woke up in the middle of the night to try to comfort him every time he had a nightmare or couldn't sleep. You drove to his apartment no matter what time it was to make sure he was okay. You lost your breath repeating that he was safe with you. You drank many cups of coffee the next day so you wouldn't fall asleep on the job every time the situation repeated itself. That's why you started sleeping in his apartment, wrapped in his arms because he said it made him happy to wake up and see you. And even with all that, Spencer was able to believe that you didn't love him.

You were running your hands through your hair and sighing, trying to block out all the thoughts running through your head, when you heard his phone ring. You could tell it was important by the way he spoke and changed his tone of voice, so you got up from the floor at the same time he did to put your ear to the door.

“I really have to go now, but could you open up a little bit so I can take a quick look at you?” He asked in a pleading tone after hanging up the call. “Please, I know you can hear me. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door.”

You really thought he didn't know you were there, feeling like a fool for listening to every word he said.

“If you want to see me, turn on the TV.” Your voice finally reached Spencer, and it gave him a glimmer of hope. It was the first time you had spoken to him since that night, and even though there was a door between the two of you, you were talking to him.

“It's not enough.”

“And it's not my problem.”

That was more hurtful than your silence.

“I know, it's mine.” He replied after a couple of seconds, trying to process everything. “And I will do everything I can to fix it...I have to go now, but take care of yourself. The nights have been getting colder lately, so wrap up warm.”

You knew it was a bit silly to think of that now, but his attention to detail was impressive. Since you did the evening news, you used to get off work very late, and the change from air conditioning to the city cold was quite a lot. Spencer had cited scientific studies to you many times to make you aware and know what kind of clothing materials to use to avoid a cold. You missed that a lot.

If he had the same attitude as the night of the conflict, it would be easier. You could hate him and stop loving him so strongly.

“I love you, William misses you and so do I.”

You frowned because you didn't know anyone by that name.

“William?”

“Our cat.” He answered simply. “When we talked about how we would name him, you said that a lot of people name their pets after their favorite characters. You love the movie ‘Notting Hill’ and whenever we watch it, you always say you like Hugh Grant's character named William. It also means strong-willed warrior. I just thought you would like it.”

You didn't say anything at the time because you had to cover your hand with your mouth to keep from doing so, but you liked it and you liked it too much. Once again, he focused on the details.

“You can change it if you want because I don't know if he likes it, but what I do know is that he misses you. He lies on your blanket and starts meowing, and he also looks at the door. I certainly think that every time I come home he expects it to be you.” He kept talking as he received no response from you. “It sounds like I'm talking about myself. And it's true because it happens to me the same way.”

When he paused, a tear escaped and fell down your cheek. It wasn't fair for him to say those things now.

“If you want to see him and me not being there, you can send me a message...but I'd really like to be.” He paused again, as if searching for the perfect words.

What did it cost him to have searched for the perfect words the night he distrusted you?

“I must go, I love you.”

The last thing you heard before he left was Spencer's footsteps heading towards the elevator.

II. I Miss You, I’m Sorry.

Just two weeks later, you realized that maybe you should have listened to Spencer when he said the nights were getting too cold. If you had, now you probably wouldn't be lying on your bed with an unbearable flu and no one there to bring you soup or a cold washcloth for your forehead because your mother was taking too long to get to city.

When you were younger, you thought it was a great idea to get as far away from your hometown as possible. Now, however, you realize that you need a familiar face to take care of you because you can't do it alone all the time.

You felt a sense of relief when you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Mom? I'm really hungry and the soup is all gone.” You spoke in a tired tone as you heard footsteps approaching. But at that moment, you watched as the cat you shared with Reid jumped onto the bed and started purring at you.

You thought you were hallucinating from the fever until you saw Spencer walking into your room with a couple of bags.

“I know you were expecting your mother, but we brought you soup and medicine.” He said, sitting up in bed to look closely at you and put a hand on your forehead. “You're burning up.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his touch.

“Your mother called me because she couldn't find a flight today and was very worried. She asked me to take care of you.”

Of course she did, because she adored him and didn't know that things were bad between you two.

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You barely settled into bed and petted the cat. “Go to work, make sure no one leaks information.”

Oh, that was a low blow for him.

“I asked for a few days off because you have a high fever and someone needs to take care of you.”

“You don't have to...”

“I want to.” He said, interrupting you and putting a cold cloth on your forehead.

“Just because you're looking out for me doesn't mean I'm going to forget everything and forgive you.” You clarified right away, trying not to lose focus because of the relief you felt thanks to the cold compress.

“I know, and I don't expect you to. Just let me take care of you now, forget you hate me until you get better. I won't take advantage of this, I swear.” He looked at you with a serious gaze, as if he were swearing an oath. “Please.”

God, not puppy dog eyes now.

You used to love it when he looked at you with those sparkling eyes. Now, though, you felt manipulated by it.

“Fine, give me the soup.” You finally agreed, knowing you didn't have much of a choice. “Just a warning, please don't answer any calls near me. I can listen in and use the information to hire a nurse.”

He ignored the comment and didn't bring it up to make you uncomfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, and his eyes searched yours as he spoke.

“Is there anything else besides soup I can bring you? More tissues, or maybe some medicine?” He asked in a soft, soothing voice.

You shook your head, still a bit dazed by the situation and your stomach rumbling. You watched as Spencer disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear his footsteps echoing throughout the house, followed by the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of the stove being turned on. You could only lie back on your bed, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you.

A few minutes later, he came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and sat down next to you on the bed, being careful not to spill anything.

“Are you planning to feed me soup?” You asked, with a hint of irony in your voice, as you watched me hold the spoon and watch you.

“If you wish, I'll be happy to.” He replied simply and brought the spoon gently to your mouth.

“I'm not a baby.”

Especially not his baby.

“You hate me, I know. But I really want to take care of you, and I won't leave until at least your mother arrives.” He paused for a second, as if to catch his breath. “If you don't want me around, that's okay, I'll just sit in the corner of the room or in the living room in silence. It hurts, but I'll take whatever you want.”

You remained silent for several seconds, dedicating yourself to stroking the cat to avoid Spencer's gaze.

“I don't hate you.” Was the only thing you could say at the time.

Something inside you was expecting a more exaggerated reaction for letting your guard down a bit, or maybe you were just too feverish. The thing was, he had only given you a small, almost non-existent smile.

“I know.” He finally spoke and gently adjusted the cold compress on your forehead. “And that's why I hate myself.”

At that moment, while you were trying to make sense of how things had changed so much in just a week, he was watching you.

Spencer was waiting for you to explode, to tell him how sorry you were for getting involved with him and his complicated world, that it was all one big mistake that you would regret forever. He was expecting disaster, pain, tears, and a lot of chaos.

But you didn't give him any of that.

Just a sweet nothing.

He could tell at that moment that even though you were in a feverish state and had many reasons to be cruel, you would not be. He realized that you would never yell at him or do anything to hurt him, that the most painful thing you could give him was your silence. And it was then that he confirmed that you loved him the way he thought he did not deserve to be loved: honestly and genuinely.

“Why?” You whispered after a few minutes of silence. “Why are you with me if you don't trust me?”

“I trust you.” He looked you straight in the eye as he spoke, trying to show that he was being completely sincere. “I just don't trust myself.”

You frowned and let out a groan from the discomfort in your forehead. You weren't sure if you were hallucinating because of the cold or if Spencer was really shivering.

“I don't think I'm good enough for you, or deserve you, or that you love me because you want to.” He finally admitted, his voice slightly shaky. He seemed to be in a worse state than you. “It's silly because you've never given me a reason to distrust you.”

“I know you thought I was going to leave. But I didn't want to leave until you asked me to.” You were close to crying, so you pretended to sneeze to hide your watery eyes. You didn't want to show how vulnerable you were. “It was easier to distrust me and blame me like I was just another bad person you catch.”

“Yes, but...” He replied, trying to answer your question.

“Don't talk. It's my turn.”

He nodded after a few seconds, watching you with concern. “Just be careful, you're still sick.”

You already knew how sick you were and how deplorable you probably looked, but you wanted to say it all and stop feeling a lump in your throat.

“You say you trust me, but you really don't, and I've been trying to understand you for almost a year, Spencer. It's been eleven months of trying not to invade your space, avoiding topics that make you tense or your eyes glaze over.” You had to stop to catch your breath and drink some water with his help. “And you think I don't understand you or really know you, but I do. I know how all your dishes are arranged, I know how you like to fold clothes and eat toast, I know that chess reminds you of someone because your eyes get watery every time we see a board, I know about the book signed by Maeve that you hide in your closet and about which you tense up every time I'm near, I know about your nightmares about prison that you don't like to talk about, and about your mother's favorite colors that change every day. I know so much about you, and yet you think I know nothing.”

Once more, there was a long, quiet pause.

“I'm so sorry.” He held your hands as he repeated the same thing, this time with a truly sincere tone. The whole room was still tense as his knees touched the floor, and the apology he gave you seemed like a plea. “I'm really sorry. I know you don't want apologies, you want trust, and I'm going to show you that.”

You didn't say anything as he sat down next to you on the bed.

“I trust you, that's why I always tell you about my cases. And I will tell you about all my past, if you want, because for me you are my present and my future...of course, only if you still want to.”

The eyes of both of you were fixed on the cat you shared, who was purring and lying very comfortably in the middle of the bed. It was nice to know that at least one of the three of you was happy.

“Tell me.”

And just as you asked, he told you everything because he wanted to show you that he trusted you.

This time he really trusted.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - Stay With Me

Summary - Aemond Targaryen meets a woman who challenges his emotional detachment. As their unexpected connection deepens, they must navigate love's risks amidst the ruthless games of court, discovering that vulnerability may be their greatest strength.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x Lannister reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2035

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

Think I like you best when you're just with me and no one else.

Aemond had never believed in love—not the kind that could consume a person, leaving them weak and vulnerable, making them forget their duties or worse, compromise their power. 

His life had been shaped by the rigid expectations of his family, by the cold steel of his Targaryen legacy. To him, emotions were a weakness, and love, the ultimate folly.

Marriage, to him, was nothing more than a transaction. A means to secure alliances, to gain favour or military strength for his family. 

It was an essential duty, a necessity that ensured the survival and advancement of the Targaryen name. It was not something that stirred the heart or made one yearn for something more. 

For him, love had no place in the grand scheme of things.

But then, everything changed the moment I entered his life.

I was the younger sister of Tyland and Jason Lannister, born into a family that thrived on ambition, a family that knew how to play the game of politics better than most. 

My brothers were shrewd, clever, always scheming. They were a reflection of the Lannister legacy—hungry for power, willing to step over anyone who stood in their way. 

I was expected to be just like them, to understand the intricacies of court politics, to know my place in the delicate dance of power and influence.

And yet, I was different. From the very beginning, I had been different. 

I wasn't a pawn to be moved at will, and I certainly wasn't someone to be used as a mere tool in some political game. I wasn't a pawn at all. Aemond had noticed that too, and it unsettled him.

Our first meeting had been formal, nothing more than an introduction at one of the many grand feasts held within the Red Keep. I curtsied as was expected, he bowed in return. A polite, businesslike exchange, no more, no less. 

But something in his gaze lingered, just a moment too long. 

It wasn't curiosity or casual interest—it was something deeper, something that caught my attention and held it far longer than it should have.

I felt it. That strange, unspoken recognition. It was as if, in that brief moment, we had already known each other for years, even though we hadn't shared more than a few words. 

His eye—his singular violet eye—seemed to see through me, past the facade I wore, past the walls I'd carefully built around myself. 

And though I had been raised to mask my true thoughts, I knew instinctively that Aemond saw through my defences as easily as if they were made of paper.

At first, Aemond fought it, as if trying to convince himself that I was just another piece in the game—a piece to be moved, to be discarded when no longer needed. 

He told himself it was nothing. I was just another Lannister. Another political pawn, another tool to be used for a greater purpose. 

But even then, beneath his cold, calculated exterior, I could feel the tension between us, like the taut string of a bow waiting to snap.

There were moments when I would catch him staring from across the room, his eye— sharp and searching—locked on me. 

When he thought no one was watching, his gaze would linger, as if he were trying to understand something about me, something that unsettled him. 

And despite his best efforts to remain indifferent, I could sense that he was drawn to me. 

I could see it in the way his hand would hesitate before picking up a drink, in the way his voice would falter when we spoke. He was trying, desperately trying, to remain detached, but there was something inside him he couldn't control.

The shift between us had been subtle at first. A brief conversation here, an exchange of glances there. 

Small moments that seemed insignificant but carried far more weight than either of us cared to admit. Even our silence spoke volumes.

We had learned to navigate the complexities of court together—me, with my mask of indifference, and Aemond, with his icy control. 

But what neither of us had expected was that the more we spoke, the more we learned about one another, the more the lines between political strategy and personal feeling blurred.

I had always been careful with my emotions. My entire life had been spent hiding behind a veil of composure, learning how to protect myself in a world that was always watching, always calculating. 

But with Aemond, it was different. 

There was no pretension, no need for the masks we wore in public. He saw me for who I really was, and strangely, I saw him as well. 

I saw past the cold prince, past the hardened Targaryen exterior, to the man who was just as lost as I was in the web of duty and expectations.

One evening, after a particularly tiresome banquet, we found ourselves alone in the garden. 

The night air was cool, a relief after the stifling heat of the feast hall. The laughter and chatter of the court felt distant now, a low hum from behind the walls of the Red Keep. 

The stars above us were bright, casting a soft, silvery glow across the garden, illuminating the trees and the flowers in a way that made everything feel almost unreal, as if time had slowed just for us.

Aemond stood by the stone fountain, his back to me, silent. He had always been a man of few words, preferring to keep his thoughts hidden behind layers of distance. 

But tonight, there was something about him that was different. 

He was still, contemplative as if wrestling with something he couldn't quite express. I stepped closer, my steps muffled by the grass beneath my feet, and broke the silence.

"These feasts always feel like a battlefield," I remarked my voice light, attempting to break through the tension that had built between us.

"They are," Aemond replied, his voice low and measured. "A battle of words instead of swords. Sometimes I think I'd prefer the latter."

I smiled at his words, the corners of my lips lifting slightly. "You never seem out of place, though. It's as if the games of court don't affect you."

Aemond turned to look at me then, his single violet eye sharp, but there was something there that hadn't been there before—something soft, something human. 

A vulnerability that I hadn't seen before. "They don't," he admitted quietly. "Not until recently."

I felt my heart tighten, a rush of emotions I couldn't quite name flooding through me. There was a pause, a moment where neither of us spoke. 

The air between us was heavy, filled with unspoken words. I looked down at my hands, unsure of what to say, but before I could think of a response, Aemond closed the distance between us.

"Do you know why I watch you?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "I thought you watched everyone."

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, almost imperceptible smile. 

It was not the smile of a prince, but of a man who was, for the first time in his life, revealing something real, something unguarded. 

"No," he murmured. "Not like I watch you."

His words hung in the air between us, heavier than any sword. I could feel the weight of them, the meaning behind them. 

And I realized, with a start, that he had been drawn to me in a way he hadn't been able to deny, even though he had tried.

There was a part of him that was vulnerable, and he was allowing me to see it.

"I've tried to ignore it," Aemond continued, his voice growing deeper, more intense. "Tried to tell myself it was nothing, that you were just another Lannister, just another tool in this endless game of power. But you're not. You're nothing like them."

I turned to face him fully, my pulse quickening. "And what am I, then?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile connection between us.

Aemond's gaze softened, the icy walls around him crumbling bit by bit. He took a step closer, closing the distance between us until we were standing inches apart. 

The air between us seemed to thrum with electricity, charged with something neither of us could deny anymore.

"You're..." he started, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "Everything I didn't know I wanted. Everything I didn't think I could have."

His words struck me like a blow, knocking the breath out of me. 

Aemond Targaryen—the cold, calculating prince who had spent his life building walls around his heart—was standing in front of me, revealing the truth that had been hiding beneath the surface all along.

"I don't know how this happened," I said quietly, my voice unsteady as I stared into his eye. "But it feels... like it's always been this way like we were meant to find each other."

Aemond's gaze deepened, the intensity of it making me feel exposed, yet safe, in a way I had never felt before. 

"I've never felt this way before," he confessed, his hand twitching at his side, as though he wanted to reach for me but was unsure if he should. "I don't know if it's right, but I can't stop it."

I took a small, cautious step toward him, my heart pounding. "And if it's not right?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond met my gaze, his lips parting slightly as if weighing his words carefully. "Then I'll make it right."

His words sent a shiver through me, and in that moment, the world outside the garden seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of us standing there, bound by something we had no words for—something neither of us could deny.

Something we were both afraid to lose.

I stared at him, searching his face for a hint of doubt, but there was none. There was only certainty, a quiet but undeniable truth that I hadn't expected to find.

"I think I like you best when you're just with me," Aemond murmured, his voice so soft, so intimate, as though he were sharing a secret he had never told anyone. "And no one else."

His words wrapped around me like a blanket, comforting yet heavy with meaning. It was strange, how simple they sounded, and yet how much weight they carried. 

In a world where we were both surrounded by people with ulterior motives, where every word was calculated and every action carried meaning, this—what we had—felt real. 

It felt pure, and for the first time, I allowed myself to believe in it. It was only the beginning.

"Aemond," I whispered, his name escaping my lips without thought, without pretence. It was a simple acknowledgement, but it held everything—my uncertainty, my longing, my desire to stay.

"Stay with me," Aemond said, his hand reaching out to find mine, his fingers threading through mine with a tenderness that was almost foreign to him. "I don't ever want you to leave."

The vulnerability in his voice, in his touch, was something I had never expected from him. 

Aemond had always been so controlled, so composed. But here, in the moonlit garden, he was just Aemond—a man who was afraid of being alone, a man who was afraid of losing me.

I stepped closer, feeling the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart beneath his armour of stoicism. 

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of the moment. "Not unless you send me away."

He held my gaze, his grip tightening ever so slightly, as though he feared I might disappear. "I won't," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "Not ever."

And in that moment, I knew it was true. 

Whatever happened next, whatever the world tried to throw at us, we had this—this fragile, beautiful connection that neither of us had expected but both of us needed. 

Aemond Targaryen, the cold, calculating prince, had fallen—just as I had. 

And there was no turning back.

Stay with me, I don't want you to leave.

A/n - Cigarettes After Sex >>

Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy @veesuguru

[akascow]

UGHHH the way viktor was afraid of people forgetting his accomplishments and how his memory will be short lived only for it to ACTUALLY HAPPEN is SO FUCKING HEARTBREAKING

because he was never included in the hextech credits, his name isnt as publically known and ppl will only see him as That One Guy who started a cult and tried to take over the world or smth (IF that. like do most people even know thats viktor in there or is it just another Piltover’s nameless baddie of the week to them… sad)

and the FEW people who knew him and his contribution to hextech are either just dead or probably saw him as a villain as their last memory of him, was he even worth saving in their mind??

the ONLYYYY person who understood him and loved him for who he was (other than sky ofc, who also died lmao) was taken with him in death, so viktor’s story wont even live on in honor for how he truly was and what he really stood for, bc jayce is the only one who can accurately describe him post-mortem

and people will probably think jayce (THE GOLDEN BOY, MAN OF PROGRESS in the eyes of piltover) died trying to fight him bc no one knows what their conversation was about before they went out, or how jayce was willing to sacrifice himself too because he shares blame in it all, so theyll likely just villainize viktor for that as well, 'the one who killed jayce talis- creator of hextech'

and no one is alive to mourn him :( so fucking depressing

also i dont blame jayce for 'taking all the credit' like some people do lol ive seen ppl say he was egotistical and taking it all in for himself and pushing viktor aside, but he literally always says viktor is his partner and never implies that HE ALONE developed hextech or that hes the sole creator in it all

like its always been 'OUR inventions' and 'my PARTNER' and 'WE created this' whenever jayce talks about hextech. he literally corrects viktor from "your [jayce's] hextech dream" to "our hextech dream" the very first night they partner up bc, despite knowing this man for maybe 4 hours max, he already recognizes the importance of their partnership and that hes not the sole idea-man in this project anymore

i think that whole negative idea was probably developed from jayce signing every single page in his notes,, but itd make more sense to me that he'd do that- not out of arrogance- but he might share the same fear that viktor has: in being forgotten for his work... so he signs every page making sure no one can take a piece out of context and pass it as their own years down the line, or erase the possibility that forget the origin of the creator, especially in a world where a species like yordels are seemingly immortal, names hold a lot of weight as time withers tangible things away

and im assuming jayce recognizes that the fact that being from the undercity could have easily silenced viktor's ideas and contributions in the eyes of the public, and jayce doesnt want to diminish his work towards it. two very important lines jayce hears from viktor that night are "do you think i want to spend my whole life as an assistant" and "a poor kid from the undercity, no one believed in me, i was an outcast the moment i stepped foot in piltover" and he probably took those to heart (paraphrasing those quotes bc i have the memory of a goldfish or smth)

i feel like its moreso piltover to blame (? imo) lmao they set up jayce as the golden boy, and piltover is all about names and status and wealth. they very obviously discriminate against zaunites (and viktor himself states that too) like yeah we dont see the whole process of The Man of Progress being made,, BUT viktor expresses how he doesnt want to go out in front of people in Progress Day, so jayce is very much just respecting his wishes and boundaries to not drag him up there when hes clearly uncomfortable at the thought yk?

viktor might also recognize himself that piltover will use his knowledge as a celebrity idol for people to look at rather than as an actual scientist for people to acknowledge and appreciate. he wants to be known for what he did, not a soulless face for people to gawk at. makes sense tho, irl u usually dont remember celebrity actions unless theyre negative, but you do remember scientist's accomplishments rather than what they look like

ppl bring up the hexgate blueprints at the end and how it only has Jayce's name on it as another argument and idk i feel like it has multiple things to stem off that before getting to the 'jayce took credit for everything' idea?

maybe they were changed after the whole cult incident, like viktor's name taken off, which yeah thats obviously depressing in itself. i think its more likely bc piltover wont want their whole gimmick to be associated with that incident, rather than jayce purposefully leaving viktor's name out of it... thats probably the strongest explanation imo. we gotta remember viktor is quite literally jayce's best friend- do you really think jayce would take away his best friend's accomplishments like that? lets be real yall HAHA

my own guess is that jayce was actually the sole designer in the hexgate design, and while they can share custody, maybe viktor doesnt take credit for things that werent his ? like yeah they worked on the hextech ideas together but it could be more like jayce drew up the plans and viktor helped with the science of it idk, but thatd explain why only jayce's name would be on it (in a non depressing way that kind of makes sense), bc jayce designed the hexgates specifically

maybe viktor didnt want his name on it either bc reasons i said above, tho this is unlikely to me bc he probably wouldnt want his name taken off if he was scared about legacy erasure,, but these are just theories idk

anyway i think blaming jayce for viktor's erasure is kind of - uhm -stupid because jayce has always made it his goal to not just save viktor but to include viktor every time he brings up hextech in conversation, whether it calls for his mention or not. because jayce knows drilling viktor's name association as co-contributer to hextech into the heads of other people is important, considering viktor's background, and jayce's own current social status as the golden boy: the leverage he holds when he speaks. people will listen lol

[himexyandere]

As promised, here's my yandere!octopus OC! His name is Dr. Mikka Lapan, and he's a mimic octopus/marine biologist. No one knows his secret: not even you, his faithful assistant.

Not yet, at least.

“[Your Name].” 

“Yes, Dr. Lapan?” 

“Do you like sea creatures?” 

Equal parts bemused and amused, you ceased shuffling through the papers on your desk and turned your full attention to your boss. 

“No offense, doctor, but I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t.” 

Dr. Lapan gave a light hum in response, seemingly satisfied with your answer. With no further questions, you went back to reorganizing the messy stack of research papers the doctor kept in the lab. According to him, he had his own system for remembering where everything was meant to go. Needless to say, you didn’t exactly believe him. 

A few minutes had passed, and you found yourself sneaking a peak at the doctor, wondering what prompted him to ask such a question in the first place. He was uncharacteristically quiet, peering blankly into one of the many tanks situated in the far corner of the lab. His hand was pressed against the cold glass, fingers aimlessly tracing along with the movements of the creatures dwelling within. 

“Doctor?” You called out to him. 

Without turning to look at you—or even stopping his motions—he responded, absentmindedly, “Yes?” 

Concern creased your brow, leading you to stand up and fluidly cross the room until you were standing beside him. His eyes were still fixated on the tank before him, the soft bluish light mirrored in the thick lenses of his glasses. 

“You seem preoccupied today, Dr. Lapan.” 

“Do I?” 

“Yeah— is something wrong..?” 

Your voice seemed to be just what he needed to be brought back to reality, as he finally turned to look at you with a guilty smile on his face, eyebrows upturned. 

“Nothing is wrong. I’m sorry for worrying you, dear [Your Name],” Dr. Lapan’s eyes softened. “As always, I appreciate your assistance and concern. We should get back to work now, shouldn’t we?” 

Having returned to his usual chipper attitude, you saw no reason to press him any further, opting instead to push his out-of-character behavior to the far recesses of your mind. 

That night, you dreamt of the ocean. 

Alone and drifting amongst the unforgiving waves, dark and opaque in a way that not even the moon could ever hope to illuminate. Your limbs wouldn’t move. Your mind was racing, but you remained still — even as one particularly zealous wave carried you further and further away from the shoreline. 

You willed your hand to move, outstretched toward the receding sands that were becoming blurrier by the second. Something—or more accurately, somethings—cold and slimy wrapped around you; limbs and all, until you were fully encumbered and immobile. The thought to scream came next, naturally, though it was all too soon thwarted by another thing coming up to cover your mouth in cold sliminess.  “If I could have you for more than a night… If I—”

[castiwls]

old habits die screaming - p.z & a.d

Paring; patrick x reader, art x ex!reader

Requested; no

Synopsis;you were finally happy. You had a good thing going with someone for the first time in ages but he just had to show up.

Warnings; mentions of pregnancy/babies, infidelity, kinda toxic reader & art I guess

Notes;Not much Patrick in this (sorry) but he is there and plays a large part so I'm tagging it as both of them. also this is long 4.2k words

Masterlist

“I can’t believe this” Patrick laughed moving to run a hand through his hair. “Him. Seriously.” His voice was venomous as he spoke. You sighed, exasperated almost as you sat on the bed.

He looked over to you from his place by the door. “You dated him for four years?” He scoffed. “You didn’t think to tell me this?”

“Patrick.” You sighed moving to stand in front of him. “I was gonna tell you. I was just waiting for the right time.” You gestured to the crib. 

“You and Art.” He shook his head. The idea was so ludicrous to him. “He never mentioned you.”

“We weren’t together when-” You hesitated. “When it happened.” He grimaced slightly at your words, mumbling quietly under his breath.

Placing a hand on his cheek you smiled. “It was a long time ago. You have nothing to worry about.” His eyes met yours and for a moment a flash of vulnerability crossed his face. You weren’t technically his. Sure the baby sleeping only a few feet away was a product of you both but you and him were nothing more than two people raising a baby.

He wanted more. He’d wanted more from the moment he’d seen you hold your daughter for the first time but he refused to mess this up. He refused to push away what was possibly the best thing that ever happened to him.

So he was willing to wait - to play the long game.

He closed his eyes, sucking in a breath. “He wants to talk to you.” The words hung heavy as you faltered.

“What do you mean?”

“It was him at the door.” His eyes hardened slightly as he almost forced the next words from his mouth. “Art.”

Your own breath caught sight. “So he told you.” Patrick nodded. “It’s not every day the guy who ditched you for your ex randomly shows up at your door.” He rolled his eyes.

You could almost imagine it. The look on their faces as they came face to face for the first time in what must have been years. “Did he say why?” You asked gently rubbing your thumb across his cheek.

“No.” He shook his head, his gaze almost burning through you. 

You nodded sighing quietly. “Okay.” You looked over to the crib. “I just got her down. She should sleep for a while.”

Patrick nodded, his face softening as he looked over to the crib. You watched him for a moment, a small smile playing on your lips.

Patrick Zweig may have been many things, but one thing he was not was a bad father.

You pressed your lips to his cheek for a moment before pulling back. “I won't be long.”

His jaw seemed to tense for a moment before he nodded. You hummed softly walking past him and down the stairs. You trailed your hand down the bannister as you thought for a moment. 

This whole situation left your head spinning slightly. You really had planned to tell Patrick about your past with Art. You knew it was something you’d have to approach gently yet apparently that had blown up in your face.

Art was still standing by the couch, though he’d taken a seat and his expression was pinched. When he saw you descending the stairs, his focus shifted and a strange mix of guilt and relief flickered on his face. 

He got to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked you over, his gaze flickering across your figure.

You smiled gently as you reached the bottom step. You looked him over for a moment. He looked so different yet the same. He’d matured since you’d last seen him but you thought if you squinted enough you could still see the boy who you’d fallen for all those years ago.

 “Hey.” You leaned against the bannister, watching him.

Art returned the greeting, offering a faint and slightly forced smile in return, but it was obvious that whatever he wanted to say was weighing on him. 

“Can we talk?” He asked, his voice quiet enough that he knew Patrick wouldn’t overhear.

You cast a glance to the stairs for a moment just to make sure Patrick hadn’t decided to follow you. “Sure.” You paused for a moment. Whatever this was about you didn't feel like doing it out in the open was the safest idea. “Kitchen?” You offered 

The answer caused the corner of his mouth to twitch slightly in the faintest smile. 

“Yeah.” He murmured in response, leading you into the next room. He kept up a few steps behind as he walked up to the counter, leaning against it as he took you in.

You walked past him choosing to lean against the island opposite him. You left a safe distance between you both as you leaned forward, bracing your arms on the island. “Why are you here?”

Art exhaled slightly, looking up at you in earnest. It had been years since he’d last seen you, but it felt like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. He could still recognize the same fierce and determined look in your eyes. 

“I…” a moment of hesitation before he exhaled again. “I had to see you.”

You scoffed. “Seriously?” You shook your head. “What about your wife?” You spit the smile previously on your lips melting away as your gaze hardened.

Art’s expression dropped ever so slightly. It was exactly what he’d expected from you, and he knew he deserved it. Though part of him hoped you’d be more open to talking. 

“Tashi’s not…she’s fine.” He stated, waving an indifferent hand in the air. 

“Mhm.” You nodded slightly unconvinced. His appearance was more than random. After eight years why now? Why now when you finally had something good did he have to show up?

“How did you even find out where I lived anyway? We haven’t spoken in like eight years.”

His mouth twisted slightly at this, and he almost sheepishly shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“I, uh…” he trailed off, before exhaling. “I may have asked your parents.”

Your eyes widened as your mouth dropped open slightly. “Seriously? You called my parents!”

The look on your face was exactly what he was expecting, a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. He couldn’t say he blamed you for feeling that way, but he hadn’t exactly known another way to contact you. You weren’t exactly buddy buddy.

“Who else was I going to ask?” He retorted in a huff.

“Literally anyone else. What did you tell them?” You laughed in disbelief.

Art’s jaw set a little at the question, knowing how it would sound. 

“I just—“ He hesitated, not wanting to admit it. “…told them I wanted to see you.” He exhaled, and the answer came out slightly sheepish. He held his breath for a moment as you seemed to take in the information.

He knew it was low of him but part of him didn’t care.

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

You paused for a moment. “Why now?”

Art’s expression soured at the question, the reality of it weighing on him. He shifted a little, his gaze dropping as he exhaled. 

“I…” he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. He knew it was stupid but he was struggling to convey it. “I know I don’t have a right to say this, but…I need to talk to you.”

You sighed. “I’m here aren’t I?” You briefly glanced at the door.

“You know he’s fuming right?” You gestured to the doorway.  “I didn’t tell him that I knew about whatever the fuck went down between you both in college.”

The mention of Patrick made Art’s expression falter slightly, and he exhaled. As if on cue, he could faintly hear footsteps pacing upstairs, no doubt Patrick’s irritated footsteps as he was clearly itching to listen in. 

“Let him fume.” Art huffed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t care.”

He knew he sounded like a child but seeing Patrick had done enough to sour his mood for the day. Of all the people in the world, why did you have to choose him?

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I have to care! He’s the father of my child.”

Art’s expression dropped slightly at the mention of you having a child with Patrick. He couldn’t honestly say he was surprised, though he did struggle to not feel a pang of something. He’d always known you were bound to grow up and find someone.

“Do you love him?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

You faltered for a moment. Did you love Patrick? Sure he was the father of your child but what more was he? You’d never passed that line from friends to something more. A large part of you wanted to, but was that what he wanted?

You paused. “I…” you trailed off. “I don’t know yet.”

You shifted. “We’re not actually together.”

The answer didn’t reassure him as much as he would’ve hoped. A part of him still expected you to say yes, and he was surprised when you said something different. 

“You aren’t?” He echoed, shifting against the counter slightly. “Even…even after the baby?”

“I don’t like saying it but she was the result of a one-night stand.” You ran a hand through your hair a small pit of guilt forming in your stomach at your words. “We didn’t exactly plan this,”

Art’s expression twisted slightly at the revelation, and he exhaled. A one-night stand wasn’t necessarily shocking, but it was still somewhat surprising to hear. 

“Ah.” There was a pause, and his shoulders slumped slightly. “So…you guys aren’t…” together? The question was left unfinished, but it was clear what he meant.

“No.”

The answer made his heart leap ever so slightly, though he did his best not to show it. He exhaled, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to keep his expression neutral. 

“Do you…plan to?” He asked cautiously.

You frowned. “I don’t know okay.” 

Art’s expression softened slightly at that, despite the pang in his chest. He didn’t blame you for being conflicted about Patrick. Part of him understood that your situation wasn’t exactly conventional.

There was a moment of a pause, before he spoke up again, slightly hesitant and quiet. “And…what about me?”

“What about you?” You frowned moving to clasp your hands together on the counter.

The expression on his face was strangely vulnerable as his gaze met yours. 

“You know I—“ He paused, shaking his head as if trying to think of the right words to say. “Do you still….” His voice trailed off, and he exhaled. He didn’t know how to finish the question, he didn’t know if he wanted to. 

Do you still love me? There it was.

The words seemed to fall over you like ice. The question made your head spin slightly as your gaze darted from him to your hands and back to him. Your face softened for the first time since you’d entered the kitchen and for a moment he could have sworn you looked slightly concerned.

What was he playing at here?

“You…you’re married.” You whispered 

He knew he was married.

Art had been expecting that response, he’d thought he’d come to terms with the way you most likely wouldn’t reciprocate the statement. But hearing it still stung, and he had to work to keep his expression neutral in light of the response. 

“You didn’t answer the question.” He managed to say, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

You nodded casting a glance out the door. You moved around the island, standing slightly closer to him.

“We dated for four years. Hell, you were my first real love…I’m always gonna hold some sort of feelings for you.” You sighed, your eyes refused to meet his.

Art’s heart leapt at the confession, and he inhaled ever so slightly. Still? After all this time? After everything that happened between you two? 

He had to keep himself under control, swallowing and working to keep his expression steady. As if to compensate, he shifted on his feet, not sure how he felt being this close to you again. 

“Feelings?” He echoed after a moment. “What kind of feelings?”

You rolled your eyes scoffing. “Don’t play dumb.” 

The comment made Art scoff slightly, and he crossed his arms over his chest. In spite of himself, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t help it, the way you responded to him was the same as it had always been. 

“I’m not playing dumb.” He shot back, his tone slightly teasing. “I just—“ He paused, a faint smile still on his face as he looked back down at you. “—I want to hear you say it.”

“What you wanna hear me say that I still love you?” Your eyes met his, yet they didn’t hold the coldness they had only a few minutes ago. Your head was spinning almost as you tried to digest what he was saying.

Art’s breath caught, and he paused for a moment. 

Yes

He exhaled again, his expression slightly pained now. He knew it was a stupid thing to want to hear. He was married for Christ’s sake, he shouldn’t want it. But he couldn’t help himself from wanting to hear the words come from you. 

“Yeah.” He found himself blurting out as he leaned forward a little. “Say it.”

“Why?” You shook your head taking a step back. “Why do you care.”

Art paused, trying to think of an answer in spite of himself. He didn’t know why he cared so much, he just did. 

“I just…” He trailed off and exhaled. “I just want to hear you say it, just so—“

The word caught in his throat, and he hesitated. Just so I know it’s not too late.

He couldn’t say that, he couldn’t admit that.

You thought for a moment. Did you still love him? 

You’d barely spared him a single thought in the last eight years yet now…now actually standing in front of him you doubted that you’d truly gotten over him. 

Flipping the situation on him you glanced to the door before looking back to him. “Do you still love me?” You pursed your lips watching him closely.

Art’s gaze flickered as your question. The answer was yes, he did still love you. If anything it was more than before, and that’s what scared him. 

“I…” He paused, again struggling to find the right words. “…yeah. I do,” he admitted shakily, the words almost a whisper.

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t expected that. “Then why did you marry her?” You couldn’t bring yourself to say her name. The thought of her alone left a bad taste in your mouth.

Art almost wished you hadn’t asked the question. He felt his body almost go tense with the question, and he swallowed. 

He didn’t know how to explain to you that he’d been desperate and scared, that he’d felt like he was losing everything and that Tashi was an escape from it. He didn’t know how to admit that he wished he hadn’t done it, that marrying her had been the biggest mistake he’d ever made. 

“I…” He started weakly. “…I thought I loved her

You shook your head staring at him dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

Art exhaled, a hand going to run through his hair. He couldn’t look at you, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eye. 

“Everything was changing.” He said quietly. “And you were—“ He cut himself off, as if not wanting to say it. “And you were gone, and I just…” 

He exhaled, struggling to find the right response. “I didn’t know what to do.”

You sighed nodding slightly. “If you’d called I would have picked up.” You let the words hang for a moment.

The words hit Art like a truck. The worst part was you were right. You would’ve picked up if he’d called you. If only he’d had the insight to call you if he’d had the courage to call you.

“I know.” His shoulders slumped slightly, and he sighed, looking down. “Believe me, I know.”

Then why didn't you?

The words hung unsaid in the air as you stared at him. “Is that all?” You sighed after a moment.

Art exhaled again, shifting uncomfortably. He wanted to say no because he knew it was far from all he had to say. He wanted to say I’m sorry and I should’ve called and I wish I hadn’t married Tashi and on and on and on. 

Because he was still scared, he was still terrified of losing you for good. 

“Yeah.” He blurted out in spite of himself. “That’s all.”

You nodded. “Okay.” You allowed yourself to smile as you reached over to rub a hand up his arm. The touch almost made Art shiver, and he had to force himself not to lean into it. Your words stung a bit, a sharp pain in his chest. 

You were quiet for a moment before softly saying “I’m sorry it didn’t end differently.”

“I’m sorry too.” He whispered, his gaze flickering up to look at you. It was at that moment that he realized how close you were to him, and he had to stop himself from pulling you even closer.

Your hand paused for a moment as your eyes met his. Your heart seemed to stutter as you let out a breath. Art’s eyes darted between yours, his expression torn. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew he needed to pull away. He was married, he had a daughter. 

There were a hundred reasons he shouldn’t.

Yet none of them seemed to matter when you were standing so close to him.

Your breath seemed to catch for a moment as you felt a slight pull.

You shifted ever closer, your eyes still locked on his as the world seemed to almost fade away. The guilt began to claw at your brain. It screamed at you to pull back, to turn around and walk away.

To go back to the father of your child. But you didn’t

Art’s breathing hitched as you moved closer, and his mind practically went blank. The logical part of him knew he should stop you, he should pull away and step back because *this was wrong*, but he didn’t. It was as if he was paralyzed by the proximity. 

“We…” He managed to say weakly, his voice barely a whisper. “Shouldn’t.”

“I know.” You whispered sinking your teeth into your lip. “You married and I have a baby with your ex-best friend.” you looked down for a moment.

you were so fucked

Art swallowed as his gaze flickered down to your mouth, and he inhaled slightly. The words should be a reason to move, should be a reason for him to step back, because you were right, he was married and you had a baby and you weren’t even his anymore. 

But Art didn’t move away, and something about it just felt right. 

“I know.” He repeated your response, his voice coming out slightly strangled.

You nodded before dropping your hand from his arm and starting to move back.

The guilt of the situation beginning to take over. You couldn’t do that to Patrick - you wouldn't do that. 

Art wanted to swear as you moved away. Stop being logical, he wanted to say, because he knew that he should feel guilty but somehow he didn’t. 

Instead, he reached out without thinking, his hand wrapped loosely around your wrist as he gently tugged you back.

His touch burned almost. The heat travels up your arm and over the rest of your body. The touch seemed to dull the voice in your head as you swallowed thickly before you silently met his gaze. 

Art’s heart was racing in his chest as his hand was wrapped around your wrist, the feeling of your skin against his sent a little jolt through him. His eyes never left yours as he gently tugged you back towards him. 

The logical part of his mind was screaming at him to let you go, that he shouldn’t be doing this. But for the first time in years, he ignored it.

Your lips parted. “Art-“

The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine, and Art found himself shifting even closer to you. The guilt and the fear almost completely faded out of his mind at that moment, and it was only you. 

“Shh…” He murmured, his breath coming out shaky. “Don’t talk.”

You swallowed thickly as you felt your heat beat impossibly faster. His chest pressed against yours as you craned your neck slightly to look up at him. Your mind raced.

Art’s heart was racing in his chest, his breathing coming in a ragged, uneven pace as you stood so close to him. You were pressed against his chest, and it was as if almost instantly, any sort of hesitancy or guilt he’d been feeling before was gone, replaced with an almost desperate desire. 

You tilted your head up to look at him, and Art leaned down ever so slightly so his face hovered directly above yours.

You froze.

His breath ghosted against your lips as you blinked unable to move.

Art’s grip on your wrist loosened, his hand moving up to cradle the side of your face. 

The air between you was so unbearably charged. You could almost hear both of your hearts racing as Art hovered his face just above yours, his breath fanning against your face as he hesitated. 

His thumb traced a gentle, light pattern over your skin as he paused as if silently asking for permission.

All your morals seemed to melt away at that moment. The gesture alone had your knees feeling weak as the guilt seemed to fully melt away.

You nodded slightly, your breath catching.

The instant you nodded, it was like a switch flicked on inside Art. Before you could even register it, his lips were against yours. 

It was desperate, and needy, and almost hungry as if he was trying to make up for three years worth of missed kisses at that moment. His hand not on your face moved to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You gasped quietly a hand going to fist his hair as your other fell to the edge of the counter. Your body moulded against his perfectly as he pressed you back into the counter firmly.

A little gasp left Art’s mouth as you tangled your hand in his hair, and the feeling seemed to send a wave of heat rushing through him. Feeling you against him was like taking a breath of air after drowning, and it just made him want more. 

Art tilted his head, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as he pressed against you.

The kiss only seemed to grow more desperate as time went on. You were both seemingly trying to make up for lost time as the world seemed to disappear until it was only you both left. 

He needed you closer. The hand on the small of your back was keeping you practically pressed against him, and he let out a low gasp into your mouth as if he was trying to taste you. 

He practically lifted you off the floor, setting you down on the counter and standing between your legs.

You shifted closer to him, your hand slipping from his hair to the nape of his neck and your other one lay on his shoulder.

The world around you seemed to narrow down to nothing more than the two of you.  The feeling of his lips against yours was intoxicating so much that for a moment you almost forgot that 8 years had passed. 

That you both had commitments to other people.

Art’s head was spinning. He couldn’t think of anything, the only thing going through his head was you, you, you, and the way your body felt against his. 

He needed more, and his hands roamed over your frame, touching your waist, your hips, your thighs, your cheeks, anything he could reach. 

Just this once, a little voice in his head whispered. Just this once.

So lost in your own world you both missed the footsteps making their way down the stairs.

Both of you were completely oblivious to the footsteps, Art’s focus was solely on you. One of his hands was firmly on your waist, fingers digging into your skin as if he was afraid you’d disappear. 

The other was gently resting against your cheek, his thumb tracing a light pattern over your skin as he pressed you as close to him as he could.

A small content noise left you as he pulled back for a moment. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath before pressing your lips back to his again.

The kitchen door opening fell on deaf ears.

you both failed to notice for a moment until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through your haze.

Patrick looked pissed.

His jaw was clenched tightly as he stepped fully into the kitchen, shutting the door quietly, and his glare flicked from Art, to you, and back again. 

“Having a good time?” He finally said through gritted teeth, his expression hard and sharp.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 5 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob was willing to try to be friends with Anna, but he knew his feelings wouldn't go away overnight. The more time he spent around her, the harder it seemed to make that happen. When Bradley and Jake make a suggestion about Bob's dating agenda, Anna doesn't seem crazy about it. And Bob ends up even more confused by her actions than her words. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, mentions of cheating, eventually 18+

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Being friends with Anna was one of the worst things Bob had ever had to do. But being around her while still keeping his distance was better than the alternative, so he had to do it. When she texted him, he responded immediately, and he couldn't stop thinking about how much he'd like to hold her hand.

She was all smiles when he saw her again a few days later. This time, she was the one who invited him out for a cup of coffee on Saturday morning, and he jumped at the chance to go. After cancelling his breakfast plans with Mickey with the promise that he'd be at the bar before Dungeons & Dragons, he hopped in his truck and drove off to meet Anna.

He was early, but she was already there. "Hey, Bob," she said, waving to him from a small table near the back as he approached. She already had two drinks in front of her, and Bob's brow creased in something like annoyance as he made his way to her.

"I was going to pay for your coffee," he said, meeting her brown eyes as he dropped slowly into the empty seat. 

"You paid the other day," she replied, sliding the hot tea a little closer to him. "Plus, you bought me two books."

All Bob could think about as he looked at her tentative smile was the fact that he wanted nothing more than to buy Anna every book she wanted for the rest of her life. Massive anthologies and slim romance novels and poetry collections and autobiographies... he wanted to get her every single one that sparked her interest. He wanted to catch her attention in just the same way literature did. He wanted to be what she curled up in bed with after a long day.

Bob cleared his throat. "Thanks for the tea, but next time I'm paying."

"Deal," she said softly before blowing on her hot coffee with another smile. 

"Great. In that case, we can go out for an expensive lobster dinner," he told her with a little grin. "You already agreed."

Anna looked at him as she took a sip. "Is an expensive lobster dinner something friends would enjoy together?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

Bob's heart started beating a little faster. "I think friends can do whatever they want."

She studied him for a moment before reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a book. "This is for you. It's from my own personal stash, so it's a little worn out, but I thought you might like to borrow it."

When he accepted the dog eared paperback copy of The Remains of the Day, her fingers brushed against his. "Thank you. I'll add it to my list of Dr. Webber recommendations."

She blushed slightly, and her hand went to her cheek as she said, "Dr. Webber. Sometimes I still can't believe I finished my doctorate after putting it on hold for so long."

Bob sipped his tea. "Why did you put it on hold? It's easy to see how much it means to you."

Anna chewed on her lip before she softly said, "I made some bad decisions, but I won't be doing that again. Do you want to split a croissant?" 

----------------------------

"So," Jessica said, heaving a deep sigh at lunchtime on Monday. She looked like she had just received some devastating news, and when Anna glanced toward her other friend holding her tie dyed lunchbox, she found a similar expression on her face as well. "It's true? You and Bob are friends?"

"You don't have to say it like that," Anna replied, dropping down onto the bench between the two of them with the weird looking tree behind her. "You were the ones who encouraged me to make a new friend in the first place!"

"We thought you'd snap out of it after like ten minutes alone with him again," Advanced Calculus said as she bit into the pretty lunch that Bradley had clearly packed for her. "Poor Bob."

Anna scuffed the toe of her old, beat up shoe along the concrete in front of her as she sipped her can of ginger ale. "It's not like I'm some amazing option or something," she muttered, remembering how adorable he looked when she handed him her own book for him to borrow. "Bob could do better."

"Anna!" Jessica gasped. "Don't say that about yourself! It's simply not true! You're the best!"

Anna swallowed hard, embarrassment starting to fill her up as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She wasn't used to being around anyone who said kind words to or about her. The fact that she almost couldn't handle hearing them was making her feel vulnerable. "I just mean... I'm not really emotionally available, so it would be in his best interest to stop returning my crush on him." She was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to stop her own feelings at this point.

The other two women were quiet for a beat, and Anna started to get nervous, but then there was a fancy container of veggies and some sort of dip being held out in front of her. She helped herself to a carrot stick as her friend finally asked, "Are you ready to talk about Kevin?"

She crunched hard into the carrot before saying, "I don't like to talk about cheaters."

Jessica made a disgusted sound and said, "That's probably half of the male population. But... I think it's safe to talk about Bob." Anna groaned, and Jessica quickly added, "Okay, fine, I'll stop now!"

"Kevin cheated on you?" Advanced Calculus said, cutting right to the chase. "What a fucking dick."

"Yeah," Anna whispered, wondering why this lunch meetup was becoming so emotional. "It went on for years, as far as I can tell. I was just too busy working and trying to stay above water to notice at first. He's... still with her. I think." But Anna knew the truth; all Kevin really did was find an upgrade and stick with her. He found another medical doctor with a thriving career, just like himself.

"Men are disgusting," Jessica said ferociously. "I was going through a bit of a rough patch when I met Jake, so keep your head up, okay? There are some good ones out there."

Anna snorted. "I think the two of you found the only good ones left."

"Nah. But I do think they might all be in the Navy."

--------------------------

Bob was surprised on Friday night when he got to the Hard Deck a little later than usual and found Anna there. The deep copper of her hair was illuminated by the lights above the pool table as she stood next to Jake, sipping a glass of ginger ale. She looked like she belonged here now, even though it was just her second visit, and when Bob got closer, he could hear her asking Jake about him.

"So everyone has a call sign? In the entirety of the United States Navy?"

"No," Jake replied with a chuckle. "Not everyone."

"And your call sign is Hangman? And Bradley's is Rooster?"

"That's right."

"What's Bob's?"

Bob smiled softly, enjoying the fact that she was asking about him without realizing he was standing right there. "It's just Bob," he said, making her jump a bit in surprise as she looked up and found him immediately with her dark eyes.

She examined him with a soft smile on her lips. "Just Bob. I think I like that better. I'd probably want to be just Anna if I had a call sign. Do you want to play pool with me? We can lose to Jessica together."

It took Bob a second to put everything together in his mind. Anna wasn't making fun of his call sign where everyone else usually would have been. And now she was holding out a pool cue toward him with a hopeful look on her face that was slowly starting to fade away as he stood motionless. "Yes," he finally said, reaching out to take it from her. Just like at the coffee shop, their fingers met briefly, and Bob just wanted to hold her hand in the worst way. And maybe try to count her freckles. And maybe kiss her. He cleared his throat. "I'd love to play. Losing to Jessica is so much fun."

"It's everyone's favorite way to spend a Friday night!" Jessica replied, brandishing a Sam Adams in one hand and a blue chalk cube in the other.

"No way, Smart Girl. I like what comes later even better," Jake replied, wrapping his arm around her waist, and Bob had to look away as he kissed his girlfriend. Jake had been talking about engagement rings in the locker room the other day, and Bob was sworn to secrecy. 

He promised not to say anything. He wouldn't. The two of them belonged together, and Bob could tell how happy they would be, but he still felt nauseatingly jealous of their love. Especially when Jessica kissed Jake and whispered, "Save the dirty talk for later."

Bob's eyes found Anna's as she got the table set up. He was going to work really hard at this friendship thing, but someday when he inevitably saw her with another guy's arms wrapped around her, hugging her, he was certain he was going to have to excuse himself from her presence. But for now, all he could do was look at her.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, touching her cheek after she set the eight ball in place.

"Just a cute smile," Bob replied, and then he had the distinct desire to disappear as said smile grew a little bigger before she pressed her lips together. Clearly he couldn't be trusted not to make things weird. "Let's play."

They were about five minutes into the game when Bradley and his wife walked over, and Bob was really enjoying the way Anna accidentally bumped into him. Twice. But then he was reminded of the other topic of conversation that had been brought up in the locker room at work.

"Hey Bob, you still thinking about downloading a dating app?" Bradley asked him casually. Anna fumbled and dropped the blue chalk that she was holding. Bob picked it up and handed it to her, but she didn't even meet his eyes when she took it.

"Uh, I might," he replied, watching Anna miss her shot at the nine ball by a mile. Bradley and Jake were the ones who mentioned the app to begin with, and when Bob showed the slightest bit of interest, they ran with the idea. "Still undecided."

"I can help you make a profile," Bradley said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll just have to let me know if you'd rather find your soulmate or be knee deep in as much pussy as you can handle."

Bob felt his cheeks warm up as Bradley's wife smacked him on the chest and told him to be quiet. When he chanced a glance at Anna, she was already looking at him with wide, brown eyes. Truthfully, Bob kind of wanted to find his soulmate and be getting a lot of pussy, but just from that one person. 

"Can we talk about this later?" he muttered, sinking the nine ball for his team when it was finally his turn.

"Sure. We can download it later," Bradley said with a smirk that didn't quite sit well with Bob. That wasn't what he meant at all, and now Anna wasn't even looking at him. It took him bringing her another glass of ginger ale for her to even acknowledge he was still there.

"Thanks," she said softly as she took it from him. They'd been trounced by Jess and Jake, and now they were standing off to the side together. "You know," she added, "if you download a dating app, you'd probably get a lot more attention if you put up a photo of you in your uniform. Or one of those jumpsuit things."

Bob shook his head and looked at his feet. "You'd swipe right?" he asked before he could think better of it.

Anna laughed and said, "Honestly? I'd swipe right if you were wearing your Dungeons & Dragons shirt."

Once again, he didn't know what to say. She only wanted to be friends with him, but this was the second time she told him she found him attractive. "It's called a flight suit," he said, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she did, she looked confused. "Not a jumpsuit."

She smiled again at the clarification. "Well, whatever they are, I like them. And the call signs. Especially yours. You seem like you don't need a lot of fancy stuff. Just Bob."

"Just Bob," he whispered. He didn't need anything fancy, but right now he sure wanted Anna.

--------------------------

On Tuesday at lunchtime, Anna was the first one to the bench, and she had to sit there awkwardly and hope that her friends showed up. She could be back in her office, alone, thinking about what she wanted to do in her next Feminist Literature lecture. She was about to text them when she glanced up as Jessica's glasses reflected the bright sunlight, and both women were heading her way. Then she saw her beat up copy of The Remains of the Day held in the same hand that was holding the tie dye lunchbox.

"This is from Bob. He gave it to Bradley to give to me, and I had to promise to give it to you."

Anna took the book from her and whispered, "Thank you." Had Bob already finished reading another of her recommended books? Was he really this perfect? That's when she noticed there was a slip of paper peeking out between the pages, and she barely heard her two friends talking as she pulled it out.

Anna,

You really need a bookmark. All of the dog eared pages made me feel terrible for this poor book as I read it. I enjoyed the story immensely, but seriously, you need to stop folding the pages over to save your spot. Unless it was your intention to bring an element of horror into the tale? If so, well done. Also, now that I have your attention, do you feel like grabbing a drink on Thursday evening? We could go to Chippy's and eat some of the best peanuts in the world. Just text me and let me know.

Bob

She whimpered softly. Everything this man did delighted her. She wanted to recommend a dozen more books to him if it meant she could have one more little handwritten note to tuck away. Or to use as the bookmark that would keep him from stressing out about the pages.

"Earth to Anna," Jessica said, waving a hand in front of her face and making her finally look up. 

"Bob asked me to go to Chippy's with him," she blurted out, holding the note tight in her hand. 

"Oh!" Advanced Calculus gasped. "You should go!"

"No," Advanced Physics whined. "That was supposed to be a girls' night outing!"

"I want her to go. It's the only thing that will get Bob off the dating app. I can't believe Bradley brought that up in the first place. He doesn't know a damn thing about it."

"I want her to go with us for the first time!"

Anna looked back and forth between the two of them, that familiar whiplash feeling returning as they argued with her in the middle. But in the meantime, she got her phone out and texted Bob.

If we go to Chippy's without Jessica, I think she might have a fit.

Bob must have been on his lunch break as well, because he wrote back a minute later while the two of them were still arguing. 

Bob Floyd: All the more reason to do it, really.

Anna laughed quietly as she told him about her office hours on Thursday, promising to meet him for some life changing peanuts at 7:15. Then she put her phone away and announced, "I'm going with Bob. The three of us can go to Chippy's on a different night."

Jessica looked mildly annoyed while her other friend looked smug and said, "Get him off the dating app. Those women will eat that sweet man alive."

But Anna knew she couldn't and shouldn't even try to do anything about that. Friends were supposed to be supportive of each other, and Bob was her friend. Just her friend. But when she thought about how much attention he was probably getting, it just made her so sad. She could have had that. She could have been the one with his beautiful eyes focused on her while she inhaled his delicious scent.

Maybe she'd just make one quick comment about the app when they were together. "I'll see what I can do."

---------------------------

Of course Bob would get dismissed early on Thursday when he had nothing better to do than wait around until it was time to go to Chippy's with Anna. He skipped the locker room shower, opting to head home to get ready instead, and it looked like Jake and Bradley were of a similar mind as they walked out to the parking lot at the same time as him.

"You said you'd share your lasagna recipe," Bradley said, annoyance laced in his voice. "Sugar really likes it."

"I said I would think about it," Jake replied smoothly. "It's not like you need help getting laid. It's not like you're Bob. No offense, Bob."

He just sighed and glared at the blonde. "I don't need help getting laid."

"Sure, pal," Jake replied as he approached his truck. "But I'll give you a free tip anyway. I'm going to go home and shower and pack up dinner. Then I'm going to stop and get some flowers for Jess, because girls like that shit. Then I'm going to her office hours where the combination of a homemade meal and pretty flowers will have her pulling her panties off as soon as I walk in."

"Please," Bob moaned. His stomach turned at the thought of Jessica, who made up a ridiculous voice for her D&D character, removing any article of her clothing. "Please stop. She's my friend."

"So is Anna," Bradley said with a smirk. "Did you download Tinder yet? Or are you going to stop and get some flowers and man up before you go to Chippy's?"

He didn't know how to explain to them that the last thing he wanted to do was push her away, and he was almost certain that a romantic gesture like giving her flowers would do just that. He also wished he hadn't even told them that he and Anna were going to Chippy's together. It was another excuse to see her, sure, but he was convinced she'd really like the peanuts.

"I have it under control," Bob muttered, passing Bradley's Bronco and heading for his own truck. Anna told him she'd made some bad decisions in her life, and he wanted to know more. Maybe going out tonight would be a way for her to open up to him a little bit. He knew from real life as well as some of the books he read that love could be built on solid friendships, but he tried not to tell himself that something like that could work out for him. Friendship was enough. 

"Robert!" Suzanne called from her open front door as he walked up the path. "You're home early."

"Hey, Suzanne. Yeah, got out early today."

"You know what you should do, Robert? You should spend this extra time getting on a dating app."

He paused with his key in the lock of his own front door and listened to the game show that she was watching as the sound filtered outside. "Thanks so much for that amazing idea, Suzanne. Have a great night."

It didn't take him too long to get ready, and while he definitely didn't want to show up at Chippy's with a bouquet of flowers, he came up with another idea. A better idea. And if he could manage to locate Anna's office in the English building, he would meet her there.

---------------------------

Anna had one student show up to her office hours, and even then, it was just so he could complain about how they were only reading 'books by girls' in English 522.

"It's Feminist Literature," she explained slowly. "The main themes and topics revolve around equality of the sexes and advocacy for women's rights. The female point of voice is what we are exploring this semester."

"But why is it all chicks? I don't really like these books."

She sighed and said, "Everything has been on the syllabus since the first lecture, and I haven't deviated from it. If you don't think you can handle it, then I suggest your drop the class."

When he finally left, she groaned and put her head down on her desk. Just a few more minutes, and she could go meet Bob. Bob Floyd. The man who read books by authors of every kind. The man who would probably enjoy sitting in one of her lectures. The man of her dreams.

"Fuck you, Kevin," she whispered before picking her head up and fixing her braid. When there was another knock on her door, she jumped in her seat. "Come in!"

And then there he was, pushing the door open and filling up her tiny office with his broad shoulders and handsome features. Bob smiled at her, and she immediately believed everything would be okay forever. "Hi," she whispered, standing up behind her desk, the large piece of furniture the only thing between them now. "Bob."

Then her eyes dipped down as he held out his hand. "These are for you." He was holding a six pack of ginger ale cans, and it was then that the smell of clean soap and hot tea invaded her senses. "An office warming gift."

"You're sweet," she said softly, and he smiled as she accepted the treat from him. "Thanks."

He just shrugged and looked around the room. "Nice place you got here."

Anna laughed. "You don't have to lie about it. You're tall enough that you could touch that wall with your hand and the opposite wall with your foot at the same time," she said, pointing from one side of the space to the other.

"It's still nice," he told her as he adjusted his glasses. "You must have two hundred books in here. And it smells like a library. And bread?"

She nodded and said, "That's because I'm near the cafeteria. You get used to it."

Bob's laughter and genuine smile had her whole body clenching. "Smells better than jet fuel. You ready to go to Chippy's?"

"Yeah." It came out like a whine. This felt like a date. She wanted it to be a date. She wanted to live in an alternate universe where she could feasibly date someone. As she set her ginger ale cans down and picked up her office key and tote bag, she started to make her way to the door. When she stopped, Bob bumped into her, his hands landing on her waist.

"Sorry," he muttered, and he put some space between their bodies immediately.

"It's okay," she replied, pulling the door closed and locking it. Anna couldn't control the thundering of her heart as they walked side by side down the hallway and stepped outside into the cool, evening air. What was she supposed to talk about with her friend Bob when she just kept thinking about his hands on her body? She cleared her throat as they walked quietly down the sidewalk toward the bar. "Did you wear your jumpsuit at work today?"

Bob's smirk made her giggle. "Flight suit, Anna. For someone who has a bunch of friends in the Navy, you could really use a tutorial. And yes, I did wear my flight suit."

She bit her lip and tried to picture him in it. "I liked your khaki uniform with all the pins on it."

His brow scrunched up as he looked at her, leading the way toward Chippy's. "When did you see my service khakis?"

Oh shit. She'd been staring at the selfie he sent from the bookstore so frequently, she just outed herself. "Um. You sent a picture to me. A while ago."

His features smoothed out as he held the bar door open for her to walk past him. "Right." His voice sounded a little deeper as she passed him. "Forgot about that."

She sure hadn't, and she never ever would. Scrambling for something to say as she walked across the sticky floor littered with peanut shells toward a group of students drinking beers, she blurted out, "I thought all Naval uniforms were navy blue."

When he pulled out a stool for her at a high top table, she took a seat. His voice was close to her ear as he said, "Your tutorial begins now. Can't have you embarrassing yourself like this next time you come to the Hard Deck. You want a beer?"

She wasn't much of a drinker, and the last thing she needed was something that would amplify the way her heart felt like it was beating erratically right now, but she simply nodded. Then Bob disappeared, leaving her really wondering what this tutorial might include. She tracked his movements back toward the bar where an older man with a deep scowl on his face started to reach for two pint glasses. Bob pulled his wallet out of his snug pocket, and Anna was too distracted to realize that he was paying for something for her. Again. 

"Damn it," she groaned, realizing how quickly she was slipping tonight. She wanted Bob to explain in great detail everything about the United States Navy while she ate peanuts. She wanted to feed him some and let her fingertips brush his lips. "Stop it." He was returning to the table now, and she watched as two women at another table pointed at him subtly. He was so attractive, and the way he was carrying two full glasses cupped in one big palm left her dizzy.

"Here you go," he said, handing her one of the beers along with a big dish of peanuts. "Best peanuts in San Diego. I swear."

Anna took one and smashed it open as she said, "I'll be the judge of such things." Bob looked really sure of himself as he sat down opposite her, and as soon as she tasted it, she knew he was right. It was roasted to perfection with just the perfect amount of salt. "Oh, god."

"Told you," he replied, reaching into the dish for a few. "But don't tell Penny I said that. I don't want to break her heart."

And that was just thing about Bob. Anna would have believed him if he said he never wanted to break anyone's heart. His fingers brushed against her as they both reached for more peanuts at the same time, but he ended up scooting them a little closer to her. 

"There are some that are navy blue," he said, his eyes bright behind his glasses. "Uniforms, that is."

"I knew it!"

"But we hardly ever wear them," he added with a soft smile. "We wear the white ones even less frequently."

"White ones?" Anna asked as she took a sip of her beer, eyes fixed on Bob's fingers as he worked a peanut out of the shell. She could write poetry about his hands, they were just that graceful and strong looking. He was talking, but she could barely keep up with the conversation, and when she set her beer down, it was half empty. 

"But that's just when I fly with Phoenix," he was saying. "I've been getting tossed around from pilot to pilot recently, which I hate. But my flight suits are what I wear the most, followed by my khaki uniform."

"It looked nice on you," Anna whispered loudly, surprised that she said it out loud. Again. 

"You said that before," Bob replied, his cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink. Would he feel warm to the touch? Why was it so hot inside Chippy's? Why did Anna agree to come here without the girls?

She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants, wishing she wasn't so awkward. "Why did you study aviation? You seem like you'd have been a spectacular English major."

Bob shrugged. "A free ride to the Naval Academy is prestigious enough that you just don't turn that down. Where did you get your PhD?"

Anna hated answering this question, but she'd be honest with Bob. "I started out at Princeton, but it was expensive, and I decided to use my money for... other things. I finished at a state school. A New Jersey state school."

"But you finished," he said with a smile as she gulped down the rest of her beer in one go. "You've got more letters after your name than I do."

Anna laughed, because he wasn't wrong. "But you've got more letters before your name than I do. Lieutenant Floyd."

"No, I don't," he said easily. "Dr. Webber."

"Shit," she croaked, really feeling the beer now. "You're right. That sounds so badass."

"It is badass," he promised as Anna's head swam with warmth and desire and contentment. He cracked open another peanut, slipping it between his parted lips. She leaned in a little closer, and his eyes went wide at what she said. 

"Did you download a dating app? I don't think you should. The guys don't know what they're talking about, and you don't really need it. You could get anyone."

Bob studied her as she tried to keep her expression neutral, fingers spinning her empty glass around nervously in front of her. "No," he said slowly. "I didn't download an app. If I'm being honest, I think I'm still hung up on the idea of meeting someone and falling for them naturally. Like accidentally bumping into them in a bookstore." Her mouth went dry as he softly said, "That's kind of what I always wanted."

It was her. She was the one he bumped into before they even knew they had mutual friends. She was that girl from the bookstore. Why couldn't she have this? She wanted it, too! And now he thought she didn't. 

"It's okay," he said before finishing off his beer. "We can be friends." He set the glass down, and Anna felt his gaze move from her lips up to her eyes. "You ready to go?"

"Yes," she whispered, slowly reaching for her things. "Thanks for the beer."

Bob shrugged as he helped her down from the stool. "Any excuse to come to Chippy's."

As they walked past the clusters of students on their way toward the door, Anna waved to the bartender. "Does he always look that cranky?"

"Ol' Chippy? Yes. Always."

She made a point to wave a little more vigorously as Bob's hand found her side and guided her outside while she laughed. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a lightweight, and now it's my goal to get him to laugh."

"I have a feeling you'll be working on that mission for a while," Bob said close to her ear. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she whispered. "Just silly."

Bob couldn't seem to help himself as he chuckled and led her along the sidewalk with one hand resting softly between her shoulder blades. "I don't really know what that means yet when it comes to you, Anna. Let me drive you home."

"Okay. It's not far," she replied, trying to imagine what it would be like if Bob ever saw the inside of her tiny apartment as she rattled off her street address. She climbed into his truck with a little bit of help, and then he reached for her seatbelt before pausing and placing it in her hand. 

"Buckle up," he told her as she stared down into his face.

"I will," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "If you promise not to download that app."

His lips twitched into a smile. "You have my word."

Bob walked around the front of his truck before climbing in and starting up the engine. He played with the radio dials while he drove as Anna breathed in her surroundings. Everything smelled good in here where Bob's fresh soap scent seemed to blend with the tang of jet fuel. She had to press her thighs together as she imagined running her nose along the front of his flight suit before he got himself cleaned up after a shift at work. 

"Oh no," she whispered as Bob pulled up to a red light a few streets from where she lived. Sky Writing's poetry swirled around in her mind, and she was afraid she might have whispered the words out loud when Bob turned and looked at her in surprise. 

"What did you just say?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

She thought about the words she had memorized once again. Passion pulses through my veins like a wild river. Binding me to you in a dance of fire.

"Nothing," she told him as the car behind his truck honked, still sitting after the light turned green.

When he parked at the curb in front of her building, he turned toward her with curious eyes and whispered, "I thought you said-"

But Anna had reached her limit with Bob. She released her seatbelt and leaned toward him, feeling more and more sure of herself the closer she got to his mouth. Then she pressed her lips gently to his and whimpered as she kissed him. Bob reached out and ran his graceful fingers along her cheek, and Anna melted into him before he abruptly pulled away. 

"Anna. I don't think this is something friends do," he croaked, voice raspy enough that she was forced to consider that she just kissed him.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, hauling herself back across the seat and throwing the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bob."

--------------------------

I can't decide if that was a mistake or not on Anna's part. But the longing got to be too much for her. She wants him badly. I hope she doesn't go into hiding. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[merthosus]

It hurts, doesn't it?

Summary: After going through heaven and hell with your boyfriend Diego, you couldn't trust your eyes as you saw him an fives girlfriend going in a date with each other. Five told you he had a bad feeling about this so you both followed them in Diegos Van. Watching them cheating on you both, made you feel things you never knew you could.

This Story was inspired by this TikTok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeKLJqmX/ (But I changed the roles a little bit)

"I understand you, down to your bones"

With each passing minute, you sink more and more into the seat of the old SUV that belonged to Diego. Just like your heart, your body slid further and further down to make what you saw unseen. “I can't believe it Five,” you mumble to yourself. Five is sitting next to you, his hands clenched into fists, eyes fixed on what is happening in front of him. He didn't answer you at first, too busy banging his leg uncontrollably on the floor. “I knocked the stars out of the sky for her and this is the thanks you get?” he says angrily.

You are watching two people eating in a restaurant. You've noticed for a few weeks that Diego has been behaving strangely and it was only when Five approached you to tell you that something wasn't going right with his girlfriend that you realized it.

You sit in silence for a moment, the disbelief weighing heavily in your chest as you glance between Five and the scene unfolding in front of you. Diego and Five's girlfriend were laughing, their body language too comfortable, too intimate. It felt like a betrayal too big to comprehend. The man you’d trusted, the one who had fought for you time and time again, was sitting across from another woman, completely at ease with someone else.

"How long do you think this has been going on?" you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would make the scene more real. Five’s jaw tightens, his eyes still glued to the two of them. "Too long," he spits bitterly. His leg continues to bounce with agitation, and his fists only seem to clench tighter. "I should have known. I could feel something was off, but I didn’t want to believe it."

You nod, understanding the sting of that realization all too well. You had brushed off Diego’s odd behavior at first, convincing yourself it was stress, maybe something work-related. You’d tried to ignore the little signs, dismissing the growing distance between you as temporary. But now, seeing them together, it all made sense.

Your breath catches as Diego reaches across the table to brush a strand of hair from the woman’s face. The tenderness in his touch, the smile that followed, it was too familiar. Too painful. You bite down hard on your lip, willing yourself not to break down completely.

"I just...I don’t get it," you manage, feeling the weight of the betrayal sink deeper. "We went through so much. How could he throw it all away like this?"

Five finally turns to you, his eyes softening for just a moment as he takes in your hurt. "Some people aren’t who we think they are," he says, his voice low and bitter. "No matter what we’ve been through with them." You swallow hard, feeling the sting of his words, because they were true. It hurt like hell to realize Diego might not have been the person you thought he was. The person who stood by you through thick and thin, who promised you the world, could betray you like this.

Five turns his gaze back toward the window, his voice suddenly cold and determined. "We have to confront them. I can't sit here and watch this any longer." You hesitate, your heart racing. The thought of walking into that restaurant, of facing Diego and seeing the truth in his eyes—it feels like too much. But as you watch Diego lean in closer to her, your anger flares. As he takes one hand up, to reach the door handle, you grasp his hand with a quick movement. "Don't", you say, stopping him from getting out.

Your hand lingers onto his. Five glances down at your hand gripping his, his sharp, icy gaze softening just a fraction. His leg stops its relentless bouncing, but you can still feel the tension radiating from him. For a moment, you sit in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. The world outside the car seems to blur into the background as the weight of the situation settles over you both. “Why not?” Five’s voice is low but laced with frustration. “Why are we just sitting here, letting them get away with this?”

You tighten your grip on his hand, your fingers trembling slightly. “Because I’m not ready,” you admit, the words barely audible. "I don’t know if I can face him right now. If I see him, see them together like this... I don’t know what I’ll do." Five’s eyes remain fixed on yours, searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe strength. The pain in his gaze mirrors your own, a shared agony of betrayal that cuts deeper than either of you expected.

"I’m furious too," you continue, your voice thick with emotion. "But confronting them right now… It feels too raw, too soon. I need a moment to think before I... before we do something we can’t take back." Five exhales, the sound heavy with disappointment, but he nods. "I get it," he murmurs, his voice slightly softer now. "I just don’t know how much longer I can sit here and watch them act like none of it matters. Like we don’t matter."

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "We do matter. We’re worth more than this. But if we go in there now, we might make things worse." You glance over at Diego and Five’s girlfriend, your heart twisting at the sight of Diego smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges the way they used to when he looked at you. Five shifts in his seat beside you, his hand finally relaxing in your grasp. "So what do we do?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"I don't know five", you whisper. Five heard all of the hurt in your whispering and his heart arches worse than before. You can feel how his fingers slowly start gliding into yours. "It feels like someone ripped my heart out", you describe it to him, still knowing that he must feel exactly the same right now. "Hurts, doesn't it?", he asks you. You were kind of happy that he was here with you. You don't even want to imagine what it would be like to catch them like this and sit in the Van alone.

"Might sound pretty dumb but I am very happy that you are here with me", you tell him, hoping he would get what you meant.

Five's grip tightens around your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as if grounding both of you in this moment. For the first time since you got in the van, he looks away from the betrayal unfolding in front of you and focuses on you. His sharp, cold demeanor softens, and for a moment, you see past the anger, past the pain. There’s something raw and real beneath it all—something only the two of you could understand right now.

"It doesn’t sound dumb," Five replies, his voice quiet but steady. "I’m glad you’re here too. I don’t think I could handle this alone." The weight of his words hits you, and you realize how much the two of you are holding each other up in this nightmare. It’s an odd, tragic comfort—knowing that someone else feels the same pain, the same betrayal. But there’s also a strange sense of strength in that shared sorrow. "I don't know how to handle this five, I feel so empty", you try to describe what you are feeling.

"I understand you, down to your bones", he says. The words made your eyes tear, you didn't want to cry. You always wanted to appear hard and unbreakable, that was what Diego gave you. A safe space, where you could let all your emotion out, but now the first man you ever felt safe with, shattered you more than anything. As soon as Five noticed you, breaking apart, he climbed over the clutch and sat beside you. "Don't cry please I can't look at this...", he mumbled as he hugged you. Now that he also was cheated on, he hadn't had the strength to contain his wall to cover his own emotions.

His arms glide around you, like a cloth trying to protect you from the outer world. As Five’s arms wrapped around you, it felt like the dam finally broke. You had been holding back, trying to stay strong, trying to process the betrayal in front of you without falling apart, but his embrace shattered that fragile resolve. You buried your face into his chest, letting the tears fall, the ache in your heart too heavy to carry alone.

“I’m sorry,” Five whispered, his voice rough and low, but full of sincerity. He wasn’t apologizing for the situation—he couldn’t control what Diego or his girlfriend did—but for the pain you were both feeling, the weight of betrayal that neither of you deserved. His hand moved up, gently cradling the back of your head as he pulled you closer.

The tension in your body slowly began to melt, your grief finding an outlet in the comfort of his embrace. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this—how much you needed someone to simply be there, to hold you in the middle of the chaos. And somehow, Five’s presence made everything a little more bearable. It didn’t take the pain away, but it made it feel less suffocating, less isolating.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered against his chest, your voice trembling. “It hurts too much, Five. How are we supposed to move forward after this?”

Five’s hold on you tightened slightly, his chin resting on top of your head. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know either,” he admitted softly, his voice wavering in a way that made you realize just how much this had affected him too. He pushed himself a little bit away from you, so you both were looking at each other. You look at his tear streamed face, imitating yours. "I don't get what I did wrong that he had the demand to cheat", you say with a broken voice.

"Don't... don't do this please", he grabbed your cheek, covering your face. He wiped away a tear with his thumb. Five’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away your tears, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the coldness of your emotions. His eyes, usually sharp and full of wit, now brimmed with a pain that mirrored your own. "You didn’t do anything wrong," he said, his voice raw and steady, though it cracked at the edges. "Don’t blame yourself for their choices. This... this is on them."

You stared at him, seeing the reflection of your own heartbreak in his face, the weight of his words trying to sink in. But the doubt, the sense of not being enough, gnawed at you. "Then why does it feel like I wasn’t enough?" you whispered, your voice barely holding together. "Like if I had just... done something differently, maybe he wouldn’t have—"

Five shook his head, cutting you off gently. "Stop," he said, his voice firmer now. "People like them... they make their choices. It’s not about what we did or didn’t do. We gave everything, and they chose to throw it away. That’s on them, not on us."

His words, spoken with conviction, made your heart twist. You wanted to believe him, but the hurt was so deep, the betrayal so fresh. How could you not question everything about yourself when the person you trusted the most shattered that trust?

Five’s grip on your cheek tightened slightly, grounding you in the present. "You are enough," he said, his tone unwavering. "More than enough. And if Diego couldn’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you." You blinked, more tears spilling over despite your efforts to hold them back. "But it still hurts," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper. Five’s expression softened, the fire in his eyes dimming as he pulled you closer once more. "I know," he murmured, his voice low and comforting.

"It hurts so damn bad five", you say while laying your face more into his hand. Five’s thumb gently traced the curve of your cheek, his touch soft yet steady, grounding you in the swirl of emotions consuming you both. His breath hitched as your words echoed between you, the rawness of your shared pain palpable in the small space between your faces. "It hurts so damn bad, Five," you whispered again, leaning into his hand, letting the warmth of his touch soothe the ache inside.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the weight of the emotions swirling around you—the betrayal, the anger, the heartbreak. But there was something else too, something that had been bubbling beneath the surface ever since this nightmare began. The way he had been there for you, how his presence was the only thing that made this unbearable situation just a little less suffocating.

Five's gaze softened as he watched you, his eyes still shining with unshed tears. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in, his face inches from yours, as if testing the waters, searching for any sign that you didn't want this—didn't need this. But you did. In that moment, with everything crumbling around you, the only thing you wanted was him.

You closed the distance between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, like two broken souls finding solace in the only place that felt safe. Five's hands slid around you, holding you closer as the kiss deepened, the intensity of your shared pain spilling into the tenderness of the moment.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a release, a way to channel everything you had been holding in—the heartbreak, the betrayal, the feeling of not being enough. And in that kiss, it was like you both found a way to remind each other that you were more than enough. You had each other, and in that moment, that was all that mattered.

You let yourself fall back, with him following you. you both melt into each other, something you never felt before, Diego couldn't give you before. His kisses get harsher, finding an output for his anger, as you did the same.

The kiss deepened, growing fiercer as the tangled emotions of anger, pain, and longing poured into it. You clung to each other as if you were the only thing keeping the other from unraveling completely. Five’s hands traced down your sides, holding onto you as if he needed the connection to stay grounded, to stay sane amidst the chaos.

Your heart raced as you felt the fire in his touch, each kiss pulling you deeper into a world where the pain seemed to fade, even if just for a moment. There was a sense of desperation in it—both of you trying to drown out the betrayal, to find comfort in something, anything, that felt real. His kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he was trying to pour all his frustration and hurt into each touch, needing to feel something other than the overwhelming sense of loss.

And you met him, kiss for kiss, letting go of everything but the present moment. The SUV, Diego, his girlfriend—it all faded into the background. For once, you let yourself feel without thinking, without analyzing what any of it meant. It was messy, raw, and full of the unresolved emotions that had been tearing both of you apart. But it was also a release, a brief escape from the reality that had shattered around you.

Five pulled back, breathing heavily, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm and uneven, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to steady himself. "This…" he began, his voice hoarse, but he couldn’t finish the sentence. Neither of you knew what to say, because words couldn’t capture what you were feeling.

You met his gaze, eyes still glassy with tears, and for the first time, you didn’t feel alone in your heartbreak. His thumb brushed over your cheek again, but this time, it wasn’t just to wipe away tears. It was something more—something that told you, in this shattered mess of your lives, you weren’t facing it alone.

But your bodies, pressed together, shuddered at the same time as a loud thud emerged onto the Car window. Five's head flew up and yours did too. Diegos eyes were watching you two, your hands still clinging onto five and his hand resting on your cheek.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!", Diego screamed.

New post in a while, just started my job! I hope you liked this one shot, let me know what you think!

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Misled (Annatar/Sauron x reader)

-> in which Annatar tries to convince you that your father, Lord Celebrimbor, is the darkness you saw in the Unseen World

Warnings: manipulation (I mean, it’s Sauron)

“Are you well?”

You are not. That is why you left the forge to seek solace on the balcony, hoping that the sight of Eregion’s lights at night would help soothe your frayed nerves. But when Annatar asks the question, breaking your contemplation, you don’t quite want to admit it so plainly.

“I will be,” you tell him as he joins you at your side, standing with his hands on the edge of the balcony as you have been doing for the past few minutes. “I believe. Only that... I cannot put it out of my mind. What I saw.” You hesitate, your voice growing dimmer. “What I felt.”

Silence settles. You have yet to meet his gaze. Part of you feels guilty, even if it was an accident—putting on the Ring that carried you into the strange shadow realm for those few, terrifying moments. You feel as though you brought it upon yourself, and helped bring the darkness you had seen upon everyone else. After all, Lord Celebrimbor had insisted you do not join Annatar’s efforts to make any further Rings. But even as your father, he could not forbid you from doing so, and you wanted to believe that Men could be saved despite their shortcomings. The fact that Annatar shared your belief had only strengthened it. You knew you were right to try.

Now, you are not so sure.

“You are very brave,” Annatar says. Now, you do look at him. You find that his gaze is as soft as his voice, and his praise sincere. Your brow furrows in silent question, because you cannot fathom of what he speaks. Your experience with the Ring had left you trembling in fear, and you had not stopped until Annatar had stepped to your side, reassuring you that all was well.

“Some who behold the Unseen World are never quite at home in this one again.” He looks out at the city as he speaks, words laced with the deep wisdom you have come to recognize in him. “In its light, things appear as they truly are. Beings of different shades of light... and its darkness.”

“They looked very much the same,” you say softly. “The darkest presence appeared to me engulfed in the brightest light. I fear...” You trail off, the weight already in your heart doubling as you admit out loud, “I fear there might come a time when I’m not able to tell the difference.”

There is a sort of sadness in the smile Annatar gives you, but also understanding. “It is no easy thing, discerning truth from deceit.” He pauses, gaze drifting to his hands uncertainly. As if he’s not sure he should speak the words he does next. “Especially when we look upon those who are closest to us.”

“Of what do you speak?” you ask, sensing a deeper meaning to his words. Annatar turns more fully towards you, meeting your eyes with a grave look in his own.

“It pains me to say, for what you saw I did not wish for any of you to see. You, most of all, I had hoped to protect from this. Until I had helped him heal.”

At first, you are confused. But as his eyes bore into yours, willing you to understand, there is only one possible meaning to his words that you can think of. An erroneous one, surely.

“You cannot mean... My father?”

Annatar nods once. Your lips part to protest, but he speaks first. “I wish it were not so. The toll that creation has exacted from him in crafting the Three and the Seven has left him diminished. Vulnerable to the shadow.”

“Annatar, please,” you insist, driven by disbelief. “My father has his flaws, as do we all. And yes, the creation of the Rings is no doubt strenuous, but how could it make him capable of such evil as I saw?”

Annatar smiles, gently. “You love him a great deal.”

“We do not always see eye to eye,” you murmur, feeling suddenly shy under his tender gaze. “But yes.”

“And you are most precious to him as well, as is only natural,” Annatar reassures in earnest. “That has not changed, nor will it. But, surely, you have noticed yourself that... he is not now as kind to you as he once was.” He hesitates once more. “When you suggested that you go to Lindon and confess to your king that he had lied so that we may continue with our work, free of deceit...”

You remember, of course. Shaken by your previous experience with one of the Rings of Men, when Annatar had suggested that the Dwarves’ Rings had been corrupted by your father’s lie to Gil-galad, your first thought had been, naturally, to put it right. Your father had been furious. “He would never permit me to forge anything again!” he had said in horror. “You cannot possibly consider doing such a thing to your own kin.”

He had dismissed you, then, more harshly than he ever had. And you must admit it hurt. But that was only because he was afraid of losing the one thing he loves as much as he does you—his craft.

You tell Annatar as much.

“But there is something you don’t know,” he confesses. “After you left... Lord Celebrimbor ordered his guards to see to it that you were spied upon. And should you make any attempt at leaving Eregion... that you were to be brought back by any means necessary, and locked within your chambers.”

“Locked?” you say, frowning deeply. “No, he would never.”

“I wish it were not so. Alas, I was there to hear it myself. And it was a lucky thing, for I prevailed upon him to withdraw his word. On that occasion, it was but a moment of weakness. But I fear the sickness may spread, if left untended.”

His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, though it is plain how difficult he finds it to say such things to you. Despite how much you wish you could deny it, you find that the more you listen to his voice, the more you believe him. And it feels as though the floor is slipping from underneath your feet. This unease you’ve been feeling for weeks, the feeling that something isn’t quite right which you cannot escape inside the forge as you work side by side with your father... he is the very source of it. The being you most trust and cherish is what you saw in the Unseen World, pitiless and terrible.

No, not yet. But, as Annatar said, if the sickness spreads...

“What is there to be done?” you ask him, almost pleadingly. It’s clearer to you now than ever that he is your only hope.

“I shall do everything in my power to see him well again,” Annatar says. “As for you... I believe it would be best if, perhaps, you kept your distance from him.”

“You would have me abandon him at a time like this?”

“Not abandon, no. It would be for his sake, as much as yours. Whilst the Nine are still being crafted, his state might lead him to say or... do certain things that he might later regret. Which in turn might fuel the darkness, in a vicious circle. It is a terrible thing, I know,” he says, meaning to soothe as you shut your eyes tightly, tormented by his words.

“And you are sure the others know nothing of this?” you ask. Selfish as it may be, you don’t want them to judge that which they do not understand.

“Yes,” Annatar says, “and we must ensure this remains a secret. Even from your father himself. The beast within him shall be more easily defeated, if it does not know it is being fought.”

You nod in understanding. Now that the truth has been revealed, a tired numbness begins to settle over you. You had meant to save the Dwarves and Men as you had the Elves, for your gifts to help restore their light. Yet the dark seems to grow heavier with each passing second, and your father has been succumbing to it day by day without you even noticing. Have you condemned him to this, you wonder? Was there something you could have done differently?

“I have given you much to ponder,” Annatar says regretfully. “I shall leave you to your thoughts.”

And so he does. Or at least makes to. The moment he turns away, even when he is not yet quite gone from your side, the air seems to chill in anticipation of his leaving. Leaving you alone on the balcony, more alone that you remember feeling in all your years of life. It feels as though a sharp stone has sunk into your chest, and you cannot bear its weight upon your heart on your own.

“Annatar!”

Before you think it through, your hand is on his arm, causing him to hold still. You know he prefers not to be touched—you’ve seen him stiffen lightly when your father or some other smith pats him on the shoulder, however friendly the gesture. That is why you withdraw your hand as soon as you realize what you have done, even though he does not seem as bothered now. All you find in his gaze as he turns back towards you is the question of what drove you to hold onto him as you did. In truth, you are not sure what you need from him. Only that you want him there, with you, because...

“I am afraid.”

The words are but a whisper, and they sound like a plea as much as a trembling confession. You cannot see your way through the darkness anymore, and you feel as though the only light you can hope to find is him.

This time, it is he who touches you—reaching for your hand, cradling it in both of his as if he were protecting something precious.

“You need not be,” he vows softly. “Not whilst I am here.”

The words wash over you in soothing waves. His touch is already a wonderful balm, but then he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing the most delicate kiss against your knuckles, and... all is well. All will be well. The shadows cannot touch you, or that which you love, so long as there is such luminous beauty in your life to keep them at bay. And beautiful he is, as your eyes remain locked, the moonlight catching in his hair ethereally and making your heart tremble pleasantly instead of rattle with fear.

“Stay with me a little longer, would you?” you ask then, unable to help yourself.

“Of course,” he smiles that gentle smile of his. “For as long as you like.”

After that, your hand remains in his. Whereas the thought of touching him felt forbidden before, nothing feels more natural now that he has welcomed it. You hope for more—and, in time, you shall have it.

If only you knew it is the darkness itself that you are touching all along.