#and the damage they made him inflict on his loved ones

[adarkroomandawallflower]

I have quite a few bones to pick with the writing of Descent, but one of the things that upset me the most from both episodes is when Data tells Geordi he believes he experienced his first emotion, & the first thing that Geordi said was, "No offense, Data, but how can you tell the difference between an emotion & a power surge?"

In my opinion, that was so out of character & disrespectful of him to say, especially to his best friend! And the discussion it led to felt so one-sided, in the sense that rather than be helpful & contribute meaningfully to the conversation, Geordi was just critical & harsh towards Data the entire time...

Maybe I'm just overanalyzing or letting my disliking of Descent influence my interpretation of the interaction, but it just really bothered me

[heirofnight]

let's go

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: reader is arranged to be wed within the next 12 hours, and azriel is determined to not let that happen.

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love on the writing i've published so far. my heart could explode. i've never allowed anyone to read anything that i've written, and as nervous as i was, i'm so glad that i made this account. this little fic was inspired by GoT lmao. i hope you like it!

you took in your reflection in the floor length mirror that was propped against the side of the wall. your chambers were dimly lit, somber even - a perfect indication of your own feelings. you'd always loved candles, loved the romantic glow that they'd cast across the walls of your large bedroom. for that reason, you had many of them - big and small - spread across the surfaces of your space. all of them were lit now, and they, along with the moonlight that spilled through your open drapes, provided mood lighting that perfectly encapsulated your own brooding thoughts.

you were getting married tomorrow. but not in a way that was exciting or filled your heart to the brim with joy. no, this was absolutely dreadful - an arranged marriage that was put in to place solely to benefit your royal father. one that you did not want, and would have never agreed to. you didn't even know the male that you were set to wed - had never even seen him.

your father was thrilled. he would not stop boasting about how immensely important this union was (for him), how this event was going to solve so many political issues amongst the court (you didn't give a shit), how happy you'd eventually grow to be (impossible). you were furious, you felt used, and you were in love with another.

azriel.

your eyes fluttered as his name tore through every single chamber of your mind. it felt like you were physically being stabbed through the heart. at this point, you'd rather it. at least you'd die his lover.

your eyes found the floor in front of you, and you took in a sobering breath. you had one more thing that needed to be done before tomorrow's ceremony.

you crossed the wooden floor of your large bedroom, floorboards creaking beneath your bare feet. you sat before your mirrored vanity, pulling a stack of parchment from the small drawer in front of it. and, you began to write. one last letter to the male that you'd loved for close to five years now. the man that held your soul within his scarred hands - hands that had the potential to inflict such harrowing damage. but those same hands had held your beating heart with such care and unrelenting love, it made your chest physically want to split in half to think of it.

my sweet love,

as i sit here on the eve of my wedding day, a day that should be joyous, a celebration for the ages, i can't help but feel as though my heart is trying to leap from my chest. if it were able to do such a thing, i know that it would somehow journey these lands to find its way to you. it is already with you, anyhow, and it always will be. i am sick to think that my walk down the aisle will not end with me standing before you, azriel. such a handsome husband you'd be. please, if you ever wed another, -

you paused your writing as a chilled gust of air hit the back of your neck, your hair whipping about with the impact. you weren't scared, you didn't even flinch - you knew what, or who caused it.

you spun around in your chair, and were met the blanched face of the male you were just writing your farewell correspondence to.

"az," you breathed out, rushing to meet his stiff frame. he was clearly distressed. angry. his breath was heaving from his chest, and his fists were clenched at his sides - wings were flared in irritation.

his wild hazel eyes met your own, and he shook his head in disbelief, shoulders dropping in defeat.

"this can't happen, y/n," he whispered, jaw clenching. he was barely maintaining his composure. you knew he wanted to level this entire manor, storm through the halls and end the lives of every one of your father's men that he came across.

you let out a shaky breath, brows cinching. it would have almost been easier to not see him, especially not tonight. this was gut wrenching.

"az, i have no choice. i'm stuck, i've tried to think of every possible way-," you rambled in a hushed tone, hands gesturing in desperation.

"there is a way," he cut you off, his tone one that could summon death. he'd calmed himself, although just marginally. he'd become still, steady, and sure. his voice took on the same quality as it did when he was focused on a mission. it was cold, full of gravel.

you looked up at him, confused and trying not to get your hopes up. surely if there was an actual way to rid yourself of this nightmare, you'd have already thought of and executed it.

"you come with me. now.", he spoke once more, leaving no room for discussion. he wasn't kidding - even though he knew the consequences of such treason.

"az...", you winced, shaking your head as your gaze hit the floor. you couldn't bare to look at him, nor turn him down, but you had to.

"no, y/n. i don't care. i don't care what happens, i don't care about your father, or his army, or what this means for velaris. you're coming with me. i will not allow this to happen," he was breathing heavily again, hands coming to grasp at your slumped shoulders.

"he will start a war, azriel. he will know exactly where to find me, find us," you whispered, not daring to meet his desperate gaze.

"then we will go somewhere else, we'll go somewhere he won't find us. and we'll figure it out. you and i," he pleaded, voice faltering. the words came out strained, like he was trying not to scream, yell, implode.

you sighed, mulling it over momentarily.

"and rhys? my father will still go to velaris first. we can't unleash my father and his men onto rhys and his people just because of this", you rationalized. the thought of velaris facing another attack at your own expense was nauseating.

"i would level all of prythian with my bare hands because of this. for you," he gritted. he took your face between his hands gently, forcing you to meet his wide eyes. he needed to make you understand. he would not survive this.

you stared at him for a long moment, your expression one of absolute dejection. azriel's heart clenched, his head was pounding. please agree, please, please agree to this, come with me, he chanted in his mind, hoping somehow he'd will you into agreement.

"rhys knows where i am. he knows what i'm doing. and he knows the potential consequences. we've been working on solutions, on strategies. we can do this," he breathed out, his full lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

he was begging you, pleading. you knew he'd get on his knees if he had to. and gods, you wanted to go so badly. you'd never been able to choose anything for yourself - nothing. you'd had no say, no meaningful opinions, and no choice on any matter regarding your own life.

but you'd chosen azriel. he was the only choice you'd ever made, and would forever be the best one. you'd chosen him then, and you'd choose him now.

"i'll pack a bag," you spoke softly, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. you couldn't help the smile that began to tug at your lips.

a pregnant pause lingered between the both of you as you determined whether or not this was a horrible idea. azriel was half-expecting you to change your mind. he held his breath for longer than was probably healthy, lungs beginning to burn. but then, finally:

"let's go," you stated firmly, true determination woven within your words.

azriel faltered for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your decision. he was frozen as you untangled yourself from his arms, darting about to quickly pack a bag of your belongings.

"let's go," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

a/n: my heart !!! this one came out of nowhere and i had to write it out. sorry if it's kinda dumb. let me know what you think!

[nebulaafterdark]

At The Pleasure Of The Crown (Part 2)

Summary: Aegon and his wife regularly visit the silk streets. One night they happen upon Aemond behind one of the curtains, the rest is history.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, smut, infidelity, manipulation, etc.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1

Aegon and Aemond have been at war from the time they were boys. Over what exactly, neither can say. For Aegon’s part, he’s never truly known the love of his mother, not the way Aemond did. Mayhaps that is where it started.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Despite the teasing his elder brother inflicted upon him, Aemond wanted only to win his approval; and that of his father. Marrying Y/N boosted Aegon’s worth in Viserys’ eyes, while Aemond remained the boy irreparably damaged, over an insult.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Then of course there is Y/N, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen; used as a means to broker peace between warring houses since she was no more than a child. Made to ease the suffering of those around her, at great personal expense.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Each of them shaped by unsteady hands, hoping only for the best.

The tree remembers, the axe regrets.

Over the moon turn since Aemond hath inserted himself upon their union, not one of them has known peace. All angry or pining for another, because of a misunderstanding. Because of a book, because of a sword fight, because of a single glance.

Even seated round the council table, Aemond stares at their entwined hands. Love is a curious thing, in all its different forms. Y/N is never going to love him the way she does Aegon.

“What will my children call you?”

“Aemond, or uncle. Same as they always have.”

“What will your children call me?” The wound is still fresh, raw and aching as Aegon presses against it.

“It will be nearly impossible to tell…whether they are yours or mine, until they are grown.” Aemond admits, “I suppose they might call us both father.”

Y/N buries her head in her hands, sick with the guilt of what she’s done.

Dying in the name of love is noble sacrifice, killing one’s self to love another is a senseless endeavor.

“Sometimes these things happen.”

————————————————————————

“Are you not speaking to me?” Aemond asks, when he manages to get Y/N alone.

“What difference does it make? My words mean little to you.”

Aemond sighs, “I apologize for my lapse in judgment. I should not have said those things to Aegon.”

“Knowing what he means to me, how could you be so cruel?” The princess snaps.

Aemond purses his lips, “my brother made fun of me for the whole of my life. I saw an opportunity to return the favor. I am sorry for it.”

“Is that what this is to you?” Y/N whispers, “is that what I am to you? Revenge against your brother, at long last?”

“No,” Aemond growls, “you are…you know what you are to me.”

“Speak it.” Y/N insists, “tell me what I am to you.”

Aemond closes the space between them, taking her face between his hands. “You are my friend.”

“And that is enough for you?”

“If that is all I’m allowed.” Those who are starved will eat anything.

“Even if we were to marry, it would not be fair to you. I love Aegon, I will always love him. We grew up together, he and I. Day and night for ten years, we have been together. I enjoy your company and I should like to keep it, but I am in want of a friend. I have a husband.”

To be so tragically entangled.

“It matters not if he is studied in the histories, or if he holds interest in matters of the court. So long as I am studied, so long as I hold interest in the court. The duties are mine, the burdens are mine.”

“I only wish to help you,” Aemond breathes.

“You can’t,” Y/N shakes her head. “You cannot help me. You cannot come into my life and uproot it. I’ve children, Aemond. Aegon’s children, who need my love and affection more than anyone.

Children who grow up in the absence of love spend the rest of their lives wanting for it; no matter how much they are given. Like pouring into a bottomless cup, endless and painful because it never fills. It is cracked from the time they are small and can never be fixed. I’ve seen the difference between children born of love and those born of duty. My children will know which they are.”

“Who fills your cup once he’s drained it?”

“The gods provide.” Y/N swipes at traitorous tears, threatening to fall. “They always do.”

“Whores then,” Aemond understands. Why the pleasure house, why the wine, why the constant thirst for knowledge. “I could fuck you as well as any.”

Y/N turns away from him. “It would mean something more to you and…”

“It would not mean a thing to me.”

————————————————————————

Aemond makes his way to the silk streets, tearing back curtains, until he spots the silver sheen of his brother’s hair. Pressed back into a pillow as one of the brunettes works herself over his cock. It is not lost on him, how much the pretty little thing resembles Aegon’s wife. “I need a word with you.”

Aegon huffs a laugh, feeling the woman above him begin to pull away. “Ah, ah,” he chides, “you stay right there. Doing the gods’ work, you are.”

The woman sighs, happily, “thank you, your grace.”

He gives her hips an affection squeeze, before turning his attention back to Aemond. “What is it you need?”

“I was hoping to apologize, for the way I have conducted myself.”

“All is forgiven, brother.” Aegon waves a dismissive hand. “My wife is an endearing mystery, it is not your fault for taking interest.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, “to what do I owe your sudden change of heart?”

“Y/N and I talked,” Aegon grins. “Whichever parts of her you are stimulating, do it well for me. Tell her I love her, while you’re at it.”

Part 3

Series Taglist : @oh-you-mean-me @callsignwidow @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @cluz1babe @visenyareads @kiwibaekie

[hischokehold]

does konig fuck bunny in those skirts???

Love your writing 💮😖🎀

like a 90s movie.

König's favorite pastime is to bend bunny over his desk and pound her pussy raw. It's therapeutic to him, having a soft fluffy thing on one's lap should be on the list or essentials for every colonel— soldier, if they can afford one. Hybrid wives are a luxury, after all.

Lately, you've developed a bit of a habit. Running along his office in the afternoon with hastily made sandwiches and orange juice in your tiny hands, acting like a proper woman all while pampering him with kisses and lathering your scent on his neck.

You've become territorial, leaving violet and blue hickeys in your wake. Bunny bites, as he liked to call it. Your little fangs were sweet, though useless, barely doing the damage you thought you were inflicting. Instead, he wore them as a badge of honor. A symbol of his woman's love.

"Naughty thing." He tuts, cupping your ass through your adorable pastel blue miniskirt that you begged him to buy last week, along with a myriad of things. You were teasing him, he was sure. You knew how much he loved how your legs looked in those slutty skirts, a stark contrast to your innocent eyes.

He suspects those movies you've been watching on the TV have influenced your recent behavior. You had a thing for those old school 90s DVD's that he kept on his shelves.

Carefully, you weasel your way out of his arms, beaming as he takes a bite of the sandwich. It made your heart feel prideful. You weren't so useless now, you could help him, help your savior!

Gently, he pats your twitching ears, paperwork all forgotten. "You made this all for me, hase?" To which you answer with a satisfied hum as his rough hands travel to the small of your back.

"Oh," you squeal, instinctively raising your perky ass into the air, little knees bending in pleasure, bunny tail twitching directly on his face. You lift your head from the desk, soft hair a little disheveled, cheeks flushed from his intimate touch. "D-Do you like it?"

König found it funny how you were trying to maintain your composure, as if you weren't flashing him, chubby bunny cunt soaking those flimsy panties. "Hm? I'm not sure as to what you're implying, bunny." He slyly licks his lips, teasingly swiping his index finger against your clit, making you jolt. "The sandwich? Or the delectable view?"

In typical bunny fashion, your brain completely blanks in the face of pleasure, pretty eyes almost going cross-eyed. It takes a little while before your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, processing the situation. You came here to help your owner, to show him that you were a big girl, but now you were just moaning like a common whore from a single touch.

"Sandwich, daddy. Sandwich." You manage to blurt out.

"Oh that," he responds rather nonchalantly. "We can get to that later. I see something far more enticing in front of me right now." He easily yanks your panties to the side, raw, dripping pussy in full view, earning a deep guttural growl from the man.

It's not long before he's slurping on your poor cunt like a madman, long tongue darting in and out of your fuckhole. "Scheiße, moaning like a bitch in heat." A heavy slap lands on your ass cheeks when you begin to fight back, kicking his torso, overwhelmed from his assault. "You forgetting who's in charge here, huh? You should be thankful," Slap! Slap!

"I bought this pussy, little girl. I own it." A harsh slap to your pussy makes you jolt in fear, tears streaming down your eyes. "If not for me, you would've been underground in the auction, whored out and kept a breeding mare for every man out there." You brace yourself for the next smack, only for König to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, as if sensing your fear.

His fat cock flung out of his trousers, the sheer weight causing it to hang down. You stuck your tongue out greedily, manly musky scent slowly filling your lungs, making you revert to your primal instincts. Gotta breed!

"Please," you hiccup, pleading for a sliver of his attention. "Please, daddy!"

His darkened baby blues engulf your very being as he turns his gaze towards you, inching his middle and index finger down your throat, using your spit as lube. "What, pet?"

"Please," you sob. "Please kiss me while you put it in!" The naiveness and the desperation in your voice makes the man laugh at your face, condescendingly patting your wet cheeks.

His rough hands cup the sides of your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. "Open up." He takes a good look at that slutty face before letting his saliva drip in your mouth. There's this fucked out look in your face as he forcibly shuts your mouth. "Swallow." He licks a messy, messy stripe from your cheeks to your pliant lips, coercing you to take his tongue.

You barely have any time to react as his bulbous cock prods your tight hole open, the stretch so painful yet so, so, so delicious. What was originally supposed to be a short office visit quickly turned into a pound fest; your pretty face locked between your daddy's biceps, bunny ears pulled back as his right hand played with your tongue, broad hips pounding against your ass while he brutalizes your raw pussy.

"Why're you crying, baby, huh?" He mocks your weepy face, and you swore you could feel his laugh vibrating in your tummy. "I know you like this." Slap! "Don't you love being used by daddy, huh?"

"I like it! I like it!" A tiny girl like you couldn't even dream of escaping, with a man like your owner holding her down. All you could do was lay there and take it. You were a big girl, after all, right?

"Then you better suck up those tears and smile, Hase. After all, you're the one who decided to wear such a slutty skirt. If you didn't wanna be treated like a slut, then you shouldn't have dressed like one. Mark these words in that tiny head, bun. Daddy knows best."

authors note:

A quick little story for you sweethearts 💓hope you enjoyed because I had a hellish time writing this😭 my first draft got completely scrapped by Tumblr. Thank you for the sweet messages and to my anons who told me to prioritize my health, I greatly appreciate it 🌷 this request has been rotting away in my inbox for about two months now. So excited to finally be getting back at it again.

[tinyfrog51]

It's taken me a while to process the Ballerina Farms article from the Times, but now that the screaming online has died down I think what truly upsets me about this comes in layers.

First, I am sad and afraid for Hannah Neeleman. She's clearly an intelligent, driven, caring woman. I have no doubt that she would be just as popular and successful had she never met her husband. And I pity her because she was unfortunate to cross paths with a man who made it his life goal to derail hers.

I don't think Hannah Neeleman is at fault for her current situation. She grew up in a cult, and her decisions are guided by the damage Mormonism inflicted upon her. And frankly, she resisted this life as much as she could (by rejecting her current husband for 6 months before he finally overwhelmed her) which was immensely brave.

Second, I am angry. I am angry at her husband, at the Mormon "church", at a society that allows women like Hannah to be churned into the ground for men to walk on. Her husband had the pick of any Mormon girl who had been groomed to be a perfect homemaker from birth, and he chose Hannah because she was resisting.

And this is what drives me insane. Men like Hannah's husband don't want a submissive wife. They want an ambitious woman to beat into submission. He doesn't want Hannah, he wants her suffering; not allowing pain remediation in childbirth, gifting her an apron when she begged for a vacation, turning her dance studio into storage. He controls her body, her time, and her finances. It wouldn't nearly be so fun for him if his wife wanted all of these things too (if it was, he would have married one of those women!) He doesn't love having a "trade wife," he loves having a woman to torture.

And finally I am so frustrated at the public reaction to this. The outcry at Hannah's treatment being met with one of three responses:

1. Abuse is ok if it's her choice! #feminism #slay

2. Women are supposed to be abused, and in fact they love it and the women who say it's bad are jealous because they wish they were being abused too

3. Women criticizing a clearly abusive relationship is because women love tearing each other down. A woman's biggest hater will always be another woman!

So now, I dont know if I will see a change in how we treat women in my lifetime. I hope when my children are my age, they won't have to make long tumblr posts about their agony at how women are treated.

All I can do is hope that Hannah Neeleman will be safe and happy one day. And pray that she finds the courage to push her disgusting husband into a combine harvester.

[shaisuki]

I saw the ask abt bully!miya twins and bully! suna’s reader talking abt losing weight but what if over summer break she js did it without mentioning it and comes back looking completely different?

you came back looking so different.

the start of a new semester is what they look forward to as the summer gone by since there's no you and you have personal and family obligations and you came back like this.

you lost the weight.

everyone in the school is buzzing how you look. they say you've gotten prettier and fit the image of what expected a manager to look like in a volleyball team. they were the least thrilled about it. considering they're the one who made you feel bad about your weight. they're the one who pokes fun at it in the expense of their entertainment and to your misery.

the team doesn't treat you any different when you came back. the usual training come off and that's when something was odd about you shouldn't you be happy? you were much happier when you're on your body before. you love yourself before you lose the weight and instead your face looks somehow a little sad but it was far from what you really feel.

osamu was the first one to point it out. "ye' lost the weight." he commented and received a smile from you. "yeah. shouldn't you be happy that you can't laugh at my fatness anymore?" the words came bitter from your mouth and 'samu feels a little guilty about it while you continue to pick the stray balls that needed to be placed in the bin.

he remained silent and atsumu is the next one to confront you about it. "so what!? you three always made me feel disgusted on how i look and you complaining about me losing the weight!? go to hell, miya!” you screamed at him. scoffing as you ran away with tears in your eyes. why the hell it was big deal for them when they're always made you feel badthem when they're always made you feel bad about yourself.

atsumu is loss for words. never did he hear you speak to him that way and it made his ego shatter about it and then there's suna. who only reminisce about your plump figure before it was now after getting yelled at earlier. "don't you dare talk about it, suna."

you warned him and he shut up and although you were like that. they understand and they don't want to inflict damage to you anymore and it hurts them to see you restrict your own diet just to maintain your now figure. they like you when you eat whatever you want but there's that ugly comments that wormed all down in the deepest of your heart and somehow they wished in their own stupid way made you feel appreciated before you destroyed yourself.

and now they thought about it when they treated you like worst, regret is always in the end.

[qtboni]

Hello, I hope you are having a great day.

I haven't been able to get Slasher König and his reading wife out of my head for days. It's a scenario where he comes home from killing someone and asks his wife if she's proud of him, to which she says yes and some HUGE obscenity ensues.

Also if you can include something like the reader is madly obsessed with how strong König is (especially his arms) and how tall he is.

Thanks 🙇‍♀️.

A/N: hello!! this rlly took me so long to write but i hope you don't mind i made this into hcs >< can u guys tell that this is inspired by brahms from the boy 2016 😇😇

╰﹒ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Yandere Slasher!König X Reader

C/W: MDNI. yandere vibes + mild nsfw, love obsession, gore, mentions of blood bcz m*rder, sprinkle of dubcon, manhandling, name-calling, groping, itty bitty size kink, perverted thoughts.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who marched back home to you with his hood and clothes drenched in blood, each droplet of the crimson liquid staining the pavement. The blood plopping down on the ground didn't reach his ears, nor could he smell the sweet metallic scent it gave off.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who usually has his expression blank, as it always was when he returned from a kill, had something off about it. His mouth curled into a smile and his gaze was as narrow and chilling as a predator's. God was he so glad that he got rid of that pest once and for all.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who couldn't help but to fidget everytime with the knife in his hands whenever you tell him the stories about that dumb fuck who gets into your nerves. What? He was itching to just sink his knife into that petty excuse of a human, and it was unbearable.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG whose lips slowly curved into a sinister grin as he remembered how much that dumb fuck begs for their life, to be spared. As if he would be nice, after what they've done to you. He enjoyed and relished in the sounds of their groans and cries of pain as he twisted the knife plunged inside of their chest.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who cuts their skin more as he remarked about that's what they get after betraying you, insulting you, and even had the extremes of inflicting mental damage that made you in distress every day. They had it coming.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG whose smile turned into a giddy one, blushing as he imagined the warm welcome that awaited him once he comes home to you. You, who would be overjoyed to welcome him home, would undoubtedly not raise an eyebrow at his bloodstained attire.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who went up to you from behind after he saw you cooking dinner in his favorite black sundress on with a cute little apron you have. "You proud of me, hase?" he asks into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin, causing your thighs to clench together. "Kein Stress mehr..."

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who practically purrs when he heard you coo of a 'yes, i'm proud of you, baby,' as you laid your head against his large chest. His words dripping with a promise of bloodshed. The feeling of your body against his excited the hunter in him and he savored every inch of flesh he touched.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who got rid of the bloodstained gloves he was wearing, as to not taint your beautiful skin with blood. He didn't mind the mess himself, but he couldn't bring himself to stain you with something he considered precious.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who appreciated every part of your skin, caressing and gripping your hips firmly into his front, while groping your breasts through your clothing. His eyes twinkled with appreciation as he took in your flawless skin beneath your dress that hugged your curves perfectly.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who absolutely melts into your body from behind when you told him that you love how he's so strong, dreamily whispering how you love his big meaty arms, his tall frame that completely engulfs you, and how the mask he wears drove you mad with lust.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG whose heart was beating wildly as he thought of taking you to bed and pinning you beneath him. He relished the thought of manhandling you and taking advantage of your helplessness. He couldn't help but feel excitement and anticipation coursing through his veins as he imagined the different ways he could show his love.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who was obsessed with you, to the point of resorting to violence means to make you his. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty or covered in blood if it meant keeping you safe.

"The things I do, I do it all for you. I won't let anyone harm you, mein hübscher Schatz."

a/n: hi! if u guys know where the first fanart is from, pls tell me ty! would love to credit the owner (google and pinterest couldn't help me track down the source 😭)

[bunni-v1]

Can I please request a reader that has been so traumatised by what’s happened in the Scarabia book that they actively avoid the entire dorm and have Ace and Deuce as their guard dogs (I love those two and I really love how you wrote them as the readers protective besties during the Malleus break up fic). Like how would Kalim, Jamil and Adeuce react to that?

I find it really cathartic when I read fics that have the characters feeling guilty after what they put the reader through whilst the reader is getting support from their friends.

(Something I’m really salty about in twst is how no one ever holds the overblots accountable for what they’ve done. I full on agreed with Ace when he told Riddle that crying wasn’t going to erase all that he did before the overblot and I literally fell in love with him when he punched Riddle after he insulted us/Yuu/the player. I understand that those boys are traumatised and are in desperate need of therapy and overblotting was the only way for their problems to be solved but the treatment they inflicted on Yuu/us was downright hellish. Azul made us homeless and tore us away from the only family/comfort we had in twst (the ghosts) and then sent the tweels to terrorise us in our attempts to reclaim said home and free our friends from servitude; Jamil kidnapped us, hypnotised us, locked us up in a room against our will, isolated us from Adeuce and took away any contact we had with them, forced us on long marches in the dessert and turned a blind eye to our clear suffering during that time; Vil acted like a literal demon to not only us (and then almost made my Deucey cry) but everyone else as well and that was before he decided to try to murder an innocent teenager. Like why does no one understand just how much this can damage an actual child who has no magic and has been stripped from their home and family?)

Reader Terrified of Scarabia After Jamil’s Overblot

TW: PTSD; Mental Breakdown; Disassociation; Mentions of Abuse; Kalim and Jamil are tragic

Info: Ace, Deuce x Reader (platonic or romantic); Kalim, Grim x Reader (platonic); Jamil and Reader (neutral)

🍓I love requests like this tbh. My own OC sorta has her own grapplings with this stuff that I like to touch upon, and I’m excited I get the chance to talk about it here :) THIS IS LONG AS HELL BTW(like this intro here lol). I had a lot of fun writing it :))) I added a cute, shorter little grim part, because our little guy deserves more lovin’ than he gets. I also decided to do a cute little (read: long) intro, and then head cannons since you didn’t specify for either. I hope you enjoy this style, and I’m sorry for the wait <3

You had been through… a lot in your time at Night Raven College. Being thrown into a completely different world would’ve been enough, but it seems that the great seven thought you needed some extra troubles. You weren’t sure how you could’ve encored their wrath, but you were, and you were chugging along despite it all.

First was the attack from the phantom in the mines — something that should’ve been foreshadowing for what was to come. You didn’t even do anything to be in this position. It was Ace Grim and Deuce, but you got dragged into it all because you were “Grim’s keeper.” You managed to befriend Ace and Deuce though, so it wasn’t so bad.

Second was Riddle with his unending temper and strict rules. Despite everything telling you to just stay out of it, your good-natured heart just couldn’t stop you from helping Ace and Deuce. Nearly dying in the process, you managed to help Riddle and made newfound friends in Heartslabyul. 

Third came Leona, the selfish, stuck-up, lazy no-good prince of the Savannah. You knew he was trouble from the start, and you wanted nothing to do with him or his little lackey Ruggie. Then he hurt Trey, and you couldn’t stand by while he reigned terror on the school. He was a favorable ally to gain in the end, so you could dismiss his actions so long as he kept in his lane.

Fourth was Azul, another student you figured would cause you trouble. With the extra scary Jade and Floyd always tailing him, and that too buttery sweet voice of his, you were determined to keep your distance. Again, however, your friends were in trouble and you couldn’t help but help them. Azul was a broken person, and you could sympathize with his struggles. He even gave you a job at the lounge to help with funding yourself, so he couldn’t be all that bad.

You’d come to dislike the other house wardens out of principle. A pattern had emerged among them, and you weren’t going to fall victim to another horrific overblot. You still had suction cup-shaped bruises on your arm from Azul’s breakdown. Leona had given you more than just a nasty burn from the scalding hot whirlwind of sand he conjured up. The scars Riddle left behind on your face and arms were healed, but they still ached when you touched them. All painful reminders that you could not truly trust anyone here, that anyone could lose control of themselves and hurt you. Yet…

When you met Jamil in the kitchen, he seemed so kind to both you and Grim. He seemed so genuine and honest. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was you missing your friends, but you wanted to trust him despite your gut feeling to be distrustful. Could everyone here really be that bad? Certainly not. Ace Deuce and Jack went here as well… so surely… surely…

The alarm bells didn’t ring at all during the dinner, and Kalim — despite everything you’ve been through — seemed so nice, if not a little overbearing. You could see the tiredness on Jamil's face, and you had the kindness in your heart to express your sympathies. And oh, Jamil so humbly assured you that he was fine. Filling your head with little half-truths and ideas that Kalim had been overworking not only him but the other students. That he had been acting “off” as of late.

You saw Kalim’s sudden shifts in personality. How he would be so sweet, so kind and soft. How he made sure you were enjoying yourself, made sure you ate to your heart's content, made sure you were comfortable in your uniform and your sleeping quarters. Then he would be yelling at everyone, demanding unspeakable exercises and work.

If Ace were there with you, he would’ve called bullshit. Still, you trusted Jamil to start. You actually believed he was kind and had good intentions. You believed that Kalim was the real evil here.

Then he wouldn’t let you and Grim leave, and the students were suddenly so aggressive toward you. He took everything you had and stripped you of your dignity and pride until there was nothing left but fight.

Truly, you didn’t realize it was him that was the issue until he was over-blotting in front of your eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight to you at that point, you’d defeated multiple overblots and befriended these people. You don’t know what it was. The way you’d trusted him. The fact that you felt truly alone without Ace and Deuce. This one broke you…

You just didn’t feel a damn thing after he was saved. You felt no pity, no joy, no relief. Absolutely nothing, an empty void in your chest. Even as everyone around you celebrated, there was nothing. You stood watching everyone parade around with glee blankly, unable to speak to anyone around you. Just listening to the voices that had begun to mesh together.

You didn’t show anything until Ace and Deuce showed up. Something about their faces, the way they were looking over you, the way they seemed so scared for your wellbeing… it made you cry. It made you cry and cry and cry until you couldn’t make any noise and then you cried some more. They had to drag you away from everyone because you just couldn’t quite stand upright when Deuce would try to get you to walk away with him…

The days after were blurry. You remained holed up in your dorm, unable to really move from your bed. Ace and Deuce stayed in their own separate room next to yours. You could hear them talking through the walls about how worried they were about you, how angry they were at Jamil, how angry they were at themselves for not getting there in time to help you. If you’d had the energy, you would’ve scolded them for being so hard on themselves, but you could hardly speak in the first place.

They cared for you as best as they could. Deuce attempted to cook the recipes Trey sent him over magicam, making sure you ate and stayed hydrated. Occasionally you’d hear Azul downstairs, and Deuce would give you something nice from the Monstrolounge — free of charge, he promised. You could tell that he wasn’t sleeping much in his worry over you. 

Grim remained at your side as loyal as a dog and boasting that he’d keep you safe, but you knew he was scared too. He proclaimed that he would keep you safe, but you could feel him trembling at every sudden noise. You had to comfort him from the horrific nightmares he was having. That was okay, though, he was family and you were his.

Ace was the only one who really kicked your ass into gear. He’d tug you out of bed and into the shower as people began to return from winter break. Made you go on walks around campus to show you that you were completely safe. Eventually, he’d been able to get you to visit Azul to thank him directly for his kindness. He wasn’t soft or gentle with you, that wasn’t in his character at all, but he made sure you felt safe enough to return to classes before they started.

They both worked hard to help you recover, but you were still so afraid…

Ace

-Ace isn’t exactly the most comforting person, and he never claimed to be. 

-He’s not good at reassuring people, but he’s good at being honest, and if he was being honest he knew that you were safe around him and Deuce.

-He walks you to and from classes, spends most of his nights in your dorm doing whatever the hell you’d like him to do without complaint, distracts you when you’re freaking out, and most importantly keeps that snake as far away from you as possible.

-If he was being honest with himself, which was his whole thing, he didn’t really get your reaction to everything. 

-You’ve all been through this before, it's textbook at this point. A guy does some shady shit, a guy gets caught doing said shady shit, a guy overblots, and you defeat a guy with the power of friendship. Boom. Done.

-He’d get it more if you were completely alone, but grim and the octanivelle freaks were there! Kalim too, and he’s always seemed pretty nice. Not the best company, sure, but still you had people helping you out.

-When he looks at your face and sees how tired you are, he forgets the logical stuff. All he can hear are those horrific sobs you let out when you saw him and how you nearly ripped his uniform in half with how tightly you were holding him and Deuce.

-If that was too much for him, he can’t imagine how badly it must’ve felt for you. How bad it must still feel.

-So screw what he thinks, he’s gotta make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

-He doesn’t ask you how you’re feeling, he knows it's not good. He focuses on keeping your mind off of everything that might trigger you.

-Reroutes your paths to classes to avoid Jamil and Kalim completely. Sure it’s longer and more annoying, but it's better than you going dead silent and shutting him and everyone else out again.

-He does everything in his power and you’re doing so well… and then the VDC happens. 

-You’re given the title of manager and you’re forced to be around these people who terrify you. 

-Vil won’t budge on anything and sevens Ace wishes Rook would let him try out a little target practice with the (illegal) bow and arrows he’s got in his room.

-He keeps himself between you and Jamil at all costs. He won’t let Jamil bother you at all, not that he was trying in the first place.

-The real issue is Kalim, which sounds crazy, but it’s true.

-Kalim is so… forceful. A pretty strong word, but honestly the only one Ace can think to use.

-He’s really nice, really sweet, seriously such a good guy… but you’re still unsettled by him.

-There are several times during practices that Ace has to yell at him to just leave you alone.

-Sure, it gets him a pretty big scolding from Vil, but he couldn’t care less honestly. He doesn’t wanna risk you having a panic attack because Vil doesn’t wanna be a responsible leader.

-You confide in Ace a lot. How you really want to move past all this, but Crowley won’t provide you with any form of therapy, and you’re just not ready to forgive Jamil or Kalim for what happened.

-He won’t tell you this, but hearing you talk like this breaks his heart.

-You’re normally so strong, so brave, so confident… and now you’re absolutely broken.

-He’s proud of you for putting on a brave face to placate Vil, but he’s angry you have to.

-Surprisingly, though, you do begin to warm up to Kalim. Just a little. 

-It's only when Ace, Deuce, or Grim is around, but it's a really big step forward in his eyes.

-You’re getting back to where you used to be little by little.

-He still won’t give you or Jamil the chance to reconcile, but you honestly couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Deuce

-Deuce is incredibly different from Ace in how he handles everything.

-He’s a delinquent, sure, but he’s a Mama’s boy at heart. Therefore, he’s much more equipped to help you emotionally through all this than Ace.

-Where Ace is the harsh pushing force to keep you going, Deuce is the calm where you can rest and cry your heart out for as long as you need.

-As I mentioned, he makes sure you’re eating and drinking and at least speaking to someone.

-He asks Trey for recipes without leading on to what’s going on and asks Cater for advice on helping someone feel safe after a traumatic experience.

-It’s not subtle, but it helps.

-He handles making all your meals, even though he isn’t the best cook, he absolutely puts all his heart and soul into everything he makes.

-A good portion of his days are dedicated to cooking for you, and he gets pretty damn good at it by the time classes start up again!

-With Sam’s shop closed, he has to go into town to get the ingredients he needs, and then he has to spend hours preparing and serving the food.

-He watches you eat, encouraging you that everything is safe and that he made it all by himself by hand. 

-He doesn’t question why things ended up this way for you, he wonders how can I help?

-And he does help, a lot, more than just with food.

-Sometimes, late at night, he hears you crying alone in your room. He gets up from his own bed, quietly enters your room, and holds you and grim while you both tremble in fear.

-It makes him so mad. Mad that this happened to you. Mad that Jamil did this in the first place. Mad that he couldn’t help more than he already is. 

-Like Ace, he accompanies you to all your classes and makes sure to stay close to your side if any Scarabia students are around.

-He’ll go anywhere you need him to, and if you’re not comfortable being alone and he’s got plans, you’re invited to join him. No matter what anyone else thinks.

-Things get better little by little. You make strides in your ability to be independent again and you’re smiling and joking around like you used to. You even agreed to try out for the VDC with him and Ace… a big mistake.

-He didn’t expect to actually get in, let alone get in with Jamil and Kalim. If it were just that he could’ve been civil, but no, you had to be dragged in too… because that’s always how it works out.

-He has to hold himself from getting in Jamil’s face more than once because just him looking at you is enough to send you into a clear panic attack.

-Deuce does his best to comfort you between all of this, though. Being your shoulder to cry on and trying his best to be your protector… it's just hard. Hard to see you like that, and hard to keep his cool for your sake.

-It's worse with Kalim because both you and Deuce know he means well. You both know he wants to reconcile, but you’re not quite ready.

-Deuce helps the confrontation with the two feel a bit easier though. He acts as a mediator between you and Kalim, and eventually, he’s proud to say he helped you trust Kalim just a little bit.

-Jamil… both of you could use some work, but Deuce is more willing to hear you out on him than Ace is.

Grim

-Grim was there with you the whole time. He understands the fear you’re feeling deeper than anyone else.

-He could just tell something was wrong the second he saw your face. Despite all the celebrations, he was focused on making sure you were at least a little okay.

-He tried to talk to you, tried to make you feel okay, but the only comfort he could offer you was letting you hold him while you cried.

-He could still hear your cries, and they made him want to cry too. He almost did, but he was your guard cat — he had to be strong for you.

-Unlike Ace and Deuce, he never left your side. Not a second. He was there with you from the moment you were unwittingly kidnapped to the sleepless nights in your dorm to the horror of finding out you’d have to work closely with Jamil for the VDC.

-He made his distaste for him very known, sure to make a snarky comment at least once every time he saw him. 

-It was so bad, at one point, that Vil had to give him a stern talking to. He didn’t stop regardless.

-You are Grim’s best friend, the only family he has, and Jamil hurt you in unspeakable ways. He couldn’t just sit back and be okay with that.

-He’s really such a good guy.

Kalim

-Kalim means well. With his whole heart, he has the best intentions… just not the best execution.

-See, he didn’t notice initially that anything was really wrong the whole time.

-He didn’t suspect Jamil at all. In fact, he thought that you were really enjoying your stay in Scarabia, you seemed so happy and chatty up until Jamil flipped things on their head.

-Call him air-headed, but he was caught up in his own whirlwind of emotions at the time. You know, the whole betrayal of his supposed best friend took a toll on him too.

-It wasn’t until you were sobbing your throat raw that he realized something was really wrong.

-The look of sheer terror on your face when you made eye contact with him sent shivers up his spine.

-He knew that look. He’d worn that look on his own face too many times as a young child.

-Believe it or not, without Jamil’s intervention, he knew to keep his distance. He knew he had to give you time to adjust.

-Then a few days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a little over a month, and he had hardly seen you around campus.

-You are avoiding your normal route to class, and when he did see you he was also greeted by the harsh glares of your good friends.

-He understood if you’d never want to talk to him ever again, honestly. He couldn’t blame you. You were more headstrong than him, after all.

-Still, when the VDC came around… he was hopeful. Truly he was hoping that something would give.

-He would talk to you in hopes of showing you that he meant no harm, but Ace or Deuce or even Grim would shove their way between the two of you.

-Several times Jamil had to tell him to knock it off because “It’s not worth forcing.”

-Still, he wanted you to know he felt bad. He felt horrible.

-In a very un-Kalim-like move, he quietly asks you if you can speak with him. Alone. But in a crowded enough area that you wouldn’t feel threatened.

-He didn’t expect you to accept it, he wouldn’t have blamed you at all. But you said yes. 

-You showed up, with Grim by your side, which was fine. He earned some apologies too.

-He poured his heart out to you, apologizing for things that he couldn’t even control. In turn, he listened to you rant about how scared you were, how angry you were, how you wished you were any of these things.

-And after that, things improved. Slowly, but surely. You became more comfortable around him, and you spoke to him again.

-Sure, you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of Scarabia’s parties, but you considered him a friend. 

-That’s all he could ask for.

Jamil

-Jamil is the monster in your story. 

-He’s the evil guy who kidnapped, manipulated and lied to you.

-He’s the one who used his misplaced anger as an excuse to hurt others.

-He’s the boogyman who made you endure days of long and hard training, just because he could.

-Of course, he felt bad. What he did was unspeakable, but he was more concerned with how his reputation would last after the overblot.

-More concerned with it not getting out for the safety of his family.

-Even with you sobbing, he just thought you were being dramatic in all honesty. You have a reputation already, he knew you’d been through this whole thing before.

-It didn’t really strike him how badly it affected you.

-He didn’t notice how you switched paths, how you were never in the same area as him for long, and the glares of your friends never once phased him.

-Even Ace’s snarky comments during basketball didn’t bother him for a second.

It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway, and he saw the look on your face that he realized.

-The terror in your eyes, the way you shrunk back as if he would strike you. It was the same way his parents acted around the Asim’s.

-If he were a more insane man, he might’ve found it liberating, but it wasn’t.

-He had become what he hated to you, he had done what he hated to you. 

-Jamil was not only your monster, but he was his own.

-He steers clear of you and keeps as much distance as possible for both your sakes.

-He couldn’t handle someone looking at him like that, and he was sure you couldn’t handle the sight of him after what he did.

-Still, this is NRC, and luck is never on anyone's side here.

-Both of you are forced into a position where you cannot escape the other, you have to learn to live with the awful pits in your stomachs.

-He keeps Kalim away until you both are on good terms, then he simply watches quietly.

-He won’t apologize, he won’t antagonize, he won’t speak unless spoken to.

-You two never truly recover your small lasting friendship, but you do make amends with each other.

-During the trip to the scalding sands, you get to meet Najma, whom he’s confided in about ‘accidentally upsetting a classmate’.

-You get to have a good talk with her, and it makes you really realize some things about Jamil.

-You realize he’s just as broken as you, just as tired as you, and that he feels the most immense amount of guilt for hurting you.

-You, being you, find it in your soul to forgive him.

-Nothing really changes between you. The guilt is still there, and the fear still shakes you to your core, but you both have closure.

-In a situation like this, closure is the best grace a person can ever have.

[lvlyghost]

I love your stories so much I can't 😫😍😍❤️

Could you maybe write a angst to fluff ghost x reader story where the reader gets injured badly while ghost is on her side the whole time in the hospital while she is unconscious and he's having breakdowns and anxiety and all really angsty stuff and when she wakes up she comforts him and all is fluffy and maybe a bit smutty 🤭

No More Stars Left to Count

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Few things made Simon break down. Almost losing his girl takes a toll on him.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

TW: Smut! MDNI! Angst, hurt, comfort. Injuries. Panic attacks. Grammar mistakes just the usual... Do not read if you're under 18.

A/N: I'm actually quite happy with this one🥹🩷 Enjoy Anon! This is my first time posting smut and in another language so sorry in advance if there are mistakes! Corrections are appreciated ✨🐝

Masterlist✨

Simon's head rests on his left hand, his eyes bore into your fragile body. Several machines are attached to you, helping you breathe, pumping meds into your system. He doesn't deserve you by any means. He doesn't deserve your trust, your laughter, your body.

All he can think about— as his brown orbs can't find the strength to look away— is how miserably he had failed to protect his team. To protect you. It's been twelve days and you still don't show any signs of waking up; it wasn't abnormal for you to not wake up. The damage inflicted to your body had been great. Simon thought for a painful moment he had lost you for good. The woman he cared for. The woman he utterly loved.

He swallows hard.

There aren't many things that'd scare him. He's simply seen too much. But this? Was this truly his destiny? To lose everyone he loved? His family and now you?

He inhales sharply, his free hands traces your inert hand, tracing soft patterns on your pale skin littered with cuts and bruises. That very hand he adores to hold when you were together. He blinks, memories from your last night together flooding his brain as he sinks further down the chair, adjusting the hoodie over his head.

The night before leaving for the mission in Romania.

-

"No, wait look Simon! Give it to me!" You chuckle, under the covers, both of your bodies remain warm. It wasn't unusual that Simon couldn't sleep so he'd often come into your room and spend the night with you. "There." You pointed out. Your hand and his hand stretched out in front of you, slowly you touch his, spreading out your palms comparing hands. Your eyelashes flutter at the mere sight of his big calloused hand outsize yours, completely engulfing it. You splay out your fingers until they're intertwined.

His breath catches in his throat. He loved how small you were compared to him. He wanted to protect you from everything even from himself, but you had refused to leave him when he tried to push you away.

"Come here." He grabs your arm pining you down and under his gargantuan body. You squeal, laughing at the sudden change of position; Simon sets his body between your legs. Your arms rest on his sides, layers of muscle tensing under your touch. Tilting your head back, eyes meet the dark sky outside the window.

"Look at them." You mumble, Simon lays a kiss on your neck taking advantage. He loves the feeling of your steady pulse on his lips. "The stars are so bright tonight." He hums absentmindedly, hands coming to grip his blond locks.

There's a fire burning in your belly and the ache between your thighs when you feel the tent forming through his grey sweatpants.

"Need you, love." He grumbles. His hands undress your bottom half making you gasp.

"Simon..." soft pink lips kiss your body. Your chest, your stomach... until he's lost between your legs. Mouth lapping at your wetness. You squirm under his touch, it's intoxicating. It feels like you might combust. The fire running through your veins, the goosebumps on your sensitive flesh as you clench around nothing. Unable to resist it you grab him by the arms. "You know what I need." In the blink of an eye two bodies intertwined moving desperately chasing the sweetest end together. He murmurs soft encouraging words in your ear that sent shockwaves through your veins, Simon couldn't possibly be more deep inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you want to scream, nails digging on his back, surely leaving red marks that he would proudly show tomorrow.

The purple and orange that tinges the sky outside filters through the window, casting an ethereal display of colors around this room that hides away the few moments you get to spend with him as you finish together; feeling impossibly more in love with him.

"It's clearing already." You point out. Simon looks up from your eyes, albeit reluctant to miss the beautiful shade of your orbs. "No more stars left..."

He kisses your forehead, then bumps his nose against you before he finds your mouth.

"There'll be plenty more to count tomorrow, sweetheart. I promise."

But you're not counting them as he promised the night before. Instead he's shouting orders like an enraged man. Heart beating out of his chest, you were so close to the evac point with your squad. Five minutes ago he had squeezed your arm and kissed your temple before urging you to get in the land rover from the SAS. Only to watch it blow seconds later. His heart stopped and then the ringing in his eardrums.

It was an ambush.

And as the rest covered him he rushed to you.

The blood. Crimson blood all over the bodies. He knew what this meant.

"Sergeant!" He forces his body to move, dragging you by the straps of your combat vest to take cover behind one of the vehicles. He knows he shouldn't be moving you like that, but right now he can't think of anything else than getting you out of there... "Bloody fucking hell!" He roars.

What was that feeling, like his soul was being ripped apart...?

-

Releasing a shaky breath, Simon squeezes your hand once again careful not to hurt you. The IV in your hand too foreign. It's too much. The sight, the memories of the vehicle flying through the sky...

The pit in his stomach grows, a wave of nausea and uneasiness hitting him all of the sudden. Simon stands on wobbly legs, taking one last glance at you he steps out the ICU. Crouching down he yanks the balaclava from his face. Why was his chest so tight, and his vision filled with blackness? The incessant ring on his ears is real. Fucking real. It was supposed to be a nightmare... this thing pulling him down.

"Come back to me baby." He pleads in a hushed tone although he knows you can't hear him. Simon lifts his hands to find support on the wall in front of him. He breathes as much air as he can through his nose, tries to blink away the black dots.

"Lieutenant Riley?" A feminine voice wafts through the empty hallway reaching him. He holds out a shaky finger without even looking at her.

"Leave..." he warns.

"Sir? I...-" the nurse hesitates.

"Now!" He barks.

She scurries away but not before calling the doctors and the Captain to the med wing.

Simon stays there until his ragged breathing evens, he then goes back to your room, deep down he hopes—prays— that your eyes will open when you hear him. But you don't. He sits again on the couch where he's tried to sleep, tossing the mask away from him. His throat bobs, what's happening to him? It burns. The door creaks open revealing a concerned John who looks at him in disapproval.

"This isn't going to help anyone Simon." He scolds him.

"What do you want Price?"

"You need to sleep. And for... just for the love of God eat something son."

"Not until I know she'll be fine."

Price sighs closing the door behind him.

"She wouldn't want this." Even then, Price doesn't want to look at you. This had taken a toll on everyone. But Simon wasn't handling it well. Rubbing his eyes he scoffs. "Come on go get some rest I can stay."

"No." Both men stare at each other not wanting to back down. "I'm on leave you don't get to tell me what to do Price."

John crosses his arm.

"I'm worried Simon. I want her to be okay too. We all do."

Simon's jaw clenched, hands balling into fists. They don't really know. They don't know, can't comprehend the extent of his love for you.

"What if this was your girl? Would you leave her fucking side hm?"

A tense pause electrifies the air as the two glare at each other, oblivious to the other person whose eyes are tearing.

The beeping sound increases as your heart rate goes up. Two pair of eyes snap to the sound. Your hand tries to snatch the oxygen from your face, but Simon darts out with dread plastered all over his features. You faintly hear John calling the doctors.

"Easy, love. Easy..." he soothes you. Stopping your hands from moving. Your body is in too much pain, tears slip down your cheeks, once again Simon grits his teeth. If he could he'd take it all away. "Don't force yourself you're..." he trails off. "You're hurt."

It feels like you're body is being torn apart. The drugs are slowly leaving your system.

"What happened?" your croak out, throat dry and inflamed. He sits bringing the glass of water to your lips not before removing for a brief moment the oxygen mask. You take a small sip and thank him with a weak smile.

"Ambush." He explains. Hating that he can see the images all over again in the back of his mind. "Thought I lost you."

More tears well in your eyes, as weak as you feel you reach out your hands tracing his jawline and cheekbone. He closes his eyes, and finally breathes again, with you touching him he feels alive again. He wants nothing more than to go home with you.

"How many nights..."

"Twelve..."

The doctors rush in but before they drag him away you say:

"That's a lot of counting we've missed."

A press of his lips on your forehead, a silent promise to never let anything happen to you ever again. Even if it mean giving his own life for yours. He would do it any day. Better him than you.

"We've got the rest of our lives, love."

[bones4thecats]

Hello! If you're still doing requests, could I ask for a angst (or fluff if you think that it works better) of Leona, Vil, Malleus, and/or Lilla (if I could do 4) reacting to Male!Reader having the Unique Magic of a Empathic Healer. This spell would allow the reader to heal any and all wounds inflicted on whom he's trying to healing. However, rather than creating blot to patch up the wounds, they are instead transferred onto the Reader, making it like he was the one that got the wound instead. He is well aware of the dangers and still can't stop himself because he hates people being hurt if he had the power to stop it.

I hope that this was good! Thank you for reading it at least!

M! S/O With A Emphatic Healer! UM.

Type of Writing: Request Name: M! S/O With A Emphatic Healer! Unique Magic (UM.) Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Malleus Draconia, and Lilia Vanrouge Requester: @beawesome04

A/N: This is fairly angsty with fluff at the ending of each, by the way, this is by far one of my best and favorite requests ever received! I loved the prompt and how you described everything! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!!

P.S.: For Lilia's part, I used his General! Self

⚠️ TW: Swearing, mentions of war and harm ⚠️ Spoilers for: Books 2 and 7 ⚠️

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Male! Reader ; Reader Heals Leona From Overblot

🦁 Leona was sorer than he ever has been in his entire life

🦁 Opening his eyes with a massive groan, he could hear the sounds of crying and whimpers while people both yelled and ordered people in different ways, this large amount of sounds made his ears pucker down towards his skull as his eyesight became clearer

🦁 Looking at the sky, Leona noticed that a small amount of liquid dripped onto his face, making him slightly flinch and fully open his eyes, catching the sight of a large cut forming onto his boyfriend’s forehead

🦁 His eyes widened as he lunged upwards and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as he asked you what you were doing

" I- I just wanted you to be okay… " " Y'know what your unique magic does to you, Y/N! I may be okay, but you'd be damaged just as badly, you dumbass! " " It's better me than you. " " No! It was my fault for letting my emotions control me so easily, not yours! "

🦁 Leona furrowed his eyebrows as you began to crack and start crying as he held you closely, then he noticed that you had quite a few bruises and burns from no doubt healing others and him

🦁 As his eyesight began to slosh over with tears of his own, he gripped your tighter, minding where you had injuries. And as he noticed you begin to sob harder, his tail wrapped around your leg protectively

" Leona- I mean, Housewarden? " " What? " " Is he alright? " " He'll be fine… but he might need to heal himself. I’ll take 'em to the nurse. " " You better get fixed up yourself, Leona! " " Yeah, yeah… "

🦁 Looking down at your frail form, Leona sighed internally. What did he, a lazy and arrogant second-born prince, do to deserve your caring and comforting self?

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Male! Reader ; Reader Helps Heal Others From A Poison-Blast

👑 Vil knew that you cared for others, and he also would scold you whenever you would end up in some bad spots because of your care for others. But this was too far

👑 He understood that other students outside of certain dorms, Pomefiore and Diasomnia, weren’t the best when it comes to handling poisons and other dangerous concoctions, but this was officially topping any kind of incident he had ever seen before

👑 A second-year had accidentally splashed something into their cauldron which resulted in a poisonous 'bomb' that had affected multiple of the members in their class

👑 And because you hated seeing people being hurt, you had jumped in and began to help others with the poison by using your unique magic

👑 This healed them, but resulted in the poisoning affecting you instead

👑 Now Vil was staring down as you as you drank multiple poison-antidotes in order for your body to heal more naturally

" What were you thinking, Y/N? " " I’m sorry, Vil. But, I couldn’t just watch as they suffered from such pain. You know what my weaknesses are! "

👑 Sighing and running his hands down your bandage-wrapped arms as he sat down next to you, Vil began to hum a small tune that he had heard over the radio a few days prior

👑 He knew you liked this song, and you smiled gently and grabbed his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. Vil just looked into your eyes and loosened his stance slightly

" Just- don’t get over your head like this again, please… " " I promise on my collection of photo-albums of us. " " Good answer, Meine Liebe. "

( Meine Liebe = German for "My Love" )

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Male! Reader ; Healing Yuu From Leona’s Overblot

🐉 Malleus was not amused when you jumped into the battle against Leona’s overblot state and began to try healing others, as he knew how dangerous your unique magic was to yourself

🐉 He then began to use his magic to levitate others into the healer’s direction, but he tried to get them away from you

🐉 Unfortunately, you had found the injure-ridden magicless prefect, Yuu Sei, on the ground and you began to use your magic faster than Riddle would be to behead someone for taking his strawberry tart

🐉 He looked around and noticed that Yuu was waking as your once-clean frame was being tattered with bruises and scratches alike all from the human

🐉 When he finally was able to pull you away from everyone else, he began to use his own magic to heal you, his eyebrows furrowed as he silently worked away on each cut, bruise, and injury alike

🐉 Once finished, he looked into your eyes and sighed deeply before embracing you tightly as he burrowed his face into your neck and took in your scent

" Why…? " " Why what, Mal? " " Why risk your own life for a human's? " " You and I both know that Yuu has value. One beyond many of us', they make me want to protect them more than any other mortal, well- besides Sebek and Silver, I suppose. "

🐉 He watched as you began to debate with yourself as your injuries faded away second-by-second. A small smile overtook his features as he hugged you again and you embraced him back

" I love you, my Healing Beauty. " " And I love you, my Darling Prince. "

( Men can be beautiful too. Bite me. )

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Male! Reader ; Healing Him During the Fae v. Human War

🦇 Groaning in pain as he held his side while you hid beside him, Lilia felt the slight amount of blood begin to fall from his midsection. These damned mortals were getting more powerful by the second

🦇 Hopefully the others were doing just as well as before… he cannot afford to lose any more men in this treacherous war

🦇 He turned as he heard you move and roll your uniform’s sleeves up as you pushed your butterfly mask aside and began to chant your small unique spell’s name

" Y/N… what- what are you doing?! You know what that damned spell does to you! " " I don’t care at the moment, Lilia. Your health matters more. " " Bullshit! Y/N, I’ll be fine, just step aside and let me- " " Lilia. As your spouse I will heal you, no matter what. "

🦇 Giving in as you stared at him deadly, Lilia watched as your arms began to glow with many symbols of healing, from ones ranging from those in the burning Savannah to ones in your homeland of Briar Valley

🦇 He then watched as the pain began to fade from his side, but he also noticed how you began to look faint. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling bad

" Love, I'm fine now. The bleeding isn’t as bad as before, it should heal faster… take a break- please. " " Alright… "

🦇 Laying back on the tree, Lilia tore open a satchel that was once thrown aside by one of the previous human soldiers, he ran towards you and began to apply both alcohol to his and yours minor wound that was slightly leaking blood before wrapping them in gauze

" Alright, we should be fine now. Do you feel better, Mango? " " Yeah, thanks Lils. " " No problem, Dearest. "

( Fun facts: Butterflies symbolize rebirth, transformation, and the delicate balance between life and death & Mangos are one of a bat’s favorite fruits )

[yandere-sins]

i have read all of your genshin yandere works and just mwah, beautiful. is diluc the type of yandere to break his darling, do you think? like intentionally, unintentionally? or would he ever give up and let his darling go free under like very specific circumstances or agreements? sorry if you were already asked this and i somehow accidentally missed it!

That's such a good question! Honestly, I feel like for Diluc, it's more of an unintentional breaking, but let's be honest: the psyche can only endure so much, and after being locked away and robbed of their autonomy, I don't see much hope for a darling. He thinks he's making the best choice for them, but living like he invisions just... isn't.

I don't see him intentionally letting them go either... especially not if they have a breakdown. But, I got some idea for this so I hope you enjoy it just as much!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"I... I just can't."

With your wrist still locked in his grip, having been caught in motion to avoid your punch, Diluc felt your body sag before he even understood what was happening. Your voice, booming and screaming, had been so prevalent in his mind, the insults shooting directly into his heart like piercing sharp arrows, causing havoc to every inch of his being, that your feeble, foreboding words didn't register as fast.

And yet, before your knees could hit the floor, before you could inflict more pain to yourself—the only pain he couldn't save you from—he caught you. His arms, as strong and steady as his resolve to save you from the cruelty of the world, wrapped around your waist, interrupting your descend to the ground. However, Diluc realized quickly he could not prevent it from happening as your strength just seemed to vanish as the seconds passed by.

Together, you two sunk, his knees the only ones getting bruised as he cushioned the fall for you, one more plea of devotion that went unnoticed. And yet, when he let go of your wrist, it didn't collapse to your side, but to his shoulder, fingers burying into his coat, making him regret not changing his attire to something cleaner, more comfortable for you.

There was no sound accompanying the end of the war you had been waging with him, although he was a passive bystander in the chaos you created. It was so quiet; even the candle burning on your nightstand was louder than your shallow breaths of defeat. It almost made him nervous. Diluc had heard enough dying breaths to know the signs, but your fingers were so strongly interwoven with the fabric around his body that he knew it couldn't be. You were holding on to him as you were losing yourself.

Just to be sure, he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking between the words as the situation finally realized in his mind. It was strange. You never faltered when you were angry, never stopped ignoring him, no matter how painful it was for him. And yet, you stopped abruptly, the mood snapping like a weak twig beneath his feet, touched him and held on for dear life. As if it was his fault, and yet, you let him reap the rewards.

It was everything he ever wanted.

Having you clutch to him, whatever the reason may be, and being able to hold you back without your palms shoved into his chest, your eyes filled with hatred as you told him to "back off". Have you rely on him, use him for comfort, and let him give you all the remnants of love he could still harbor in his heart that his past had burnt into a crisp. Something terrible was happening, and yet, as Diluc watched you deflate, resting on his lap like a lover rather than a prisoner, he was smiling for the first time in a long while.

"I can't," you whispered, your voice hoarse and damaged from yelling, too weak to speak up. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep living like this, I'm... I'm tired."

For a moment, no one said anything, the silence so much more telling than any explanation could be. Yet, like an idiot, Diluc wished you'd speak up. Give him a verbal sign of what was going on—any, really.

And you did. Your head lowered to his chest as if it was too heavy to hold, your body sagging a bit more on his lap. Luckily, his arms were already there to catch you, his palms coming to rest across your back, steading you, the touch searing. For the first time in his life, he was afraid of burning off his own fingertips, and yet, he didn't move them away from you, unable to waste this moment. You might never let him touch you like this again. Hold you. Comfort you.

That's when it finally hit him.

It took him long enough, but perhaps you needed the time to come to terms with it, too. His heart lept while yours seemed to settle. Diluc was overcome with love and adoration while you banished the last forces of fight from your mind, sinking into exhaustion. It's been years and you only realized now that you lost a war that was never one to begin with. You've used up all your resources and burned through all your motivation. All that was left was an ashen battlefield, you and him.

It wasn't until many hours later that Diluc put you to bed, having held you through most of the night while you slept. The irking feeling that maybe it would be back to normal tomorrow didn't deter him from enjoying the peace he was starting to get addicted to. Brushing your hair out of your face and leaving a few kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and a brazen one on your lips, he admired your sleeping face, your brows furrowed but otherwise peaceful visage. 

Even if things were to change the next day, he was thankful for this wonderful night, wishing for it to never end, and yet he couldn't wait to see what more there was to come. Every day with you was just that special. Diluc didn't realize the loss that had happened. Unable to feel anything but gratitude for your change of attitude. 

And in a spur-of-the-moment decision, he shrugged off his coat and pushed off his boots, joining you by your side in the bed, something he never allowed himself to do. It felt right. Like the place he belonged. Resting his arms around you, he now knew how it could be, already getting addicted to the feeling of being close to you. 

Maybe you'd soon wake him up with another screaming and crying outburst, but that night had fueled him with enough love for you to keep going, even more sure now that what he did was the right thing. 

Diluc won that night, and his fire continued to burn through everything you held dear. Your pride, your freedom, your whole essence of being. Yet his fire just kept on spreading, rising, devouring everything, fueled by love that only seemed to keep coming the more you gave up.

Until you were completely engulfed in his flames, unable to ever distinguish them.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Interested in seeing Yun's A/B/O arc. I am very picky about my omegaverse content BUT. Idea: Alpha/Omega Batfam desperately wanting reader who is a beta, unbothered by their nonsense. They're gnawing on their enclosure as reader says, "The fuck is their problem???"

@sophiethewitch1 just to inflict more damage to your psyche 🩵

like it when you guys use my name so much huhu

YANDERE! A/B/O! BATFAM x BETA! READER

Beta Reader who is just unbothered and unwilling to care about the whole second gender hierarchy and just wants to get a normal job at Wayne Industries

But it’s literally impossible when they have Alpha! Dick as their childhood friend.

You should thank him really, he gave you a spot at your dream (totally) job. You should thank him for many things actually. You’re the only beta he ever told his hero identity to. He gave his whole heart and trust towards your irrelevant beta self. As such, you should be grateful that he asked you out right? Wrong.

Unfortunately, you were already in a relationship with Omega! Tim. Who you met after the death of your partner Beta! Jason. His omega tendencies and the fact that you were unable to fully take care of him as a mate saddened you, but sacrifices must be made for love right?

Omega! Tim who’s just so fucking obnoxious about bagging you. He leaves his scent all over your items. Warding off Alpha! Damian who had been crushing on you since forever.

Alpha! Damian who kept bullying you for being a Beta up until that fateful day Batman suddenly died(disappeared), and you were the only one that stepped up to comfort him. Sure, you didn’t know he was your tormentor (God was he thankful you couldn’t smell his arousal and pheromones going haywire when you hugged him) but you were the only person he felt safe being so vulnerable with. So un-alpha like with. You knew who Nightwing was right? You must know who he was and cared for him eitherway.

Beta! Jason who comes back with a vengeance. Cursing Joker for separating you two. Who hated you for being a beta even though he was one himself, but learnt to love you and eventually his second gender. Whose first coherent thought was to return to his mate, but is heartbroken upon the sight of his replacement.

Alpha! Batman who lurks within the shadows. He knows of his children’s obsessions, he knows you’re the final piece needed for his gamble to succeed.

You who’s unknowingly walking into the jaws of the most unhinged men on Gotham.

….

… Captured! Beta Reader who wakes up to the leering eyes of the Dark Knight. Scalpel in hand.

“It’s time to fix you.”

[brailsthesmolgurl]

1 YOU, 1 ME

This is a one-shot request by one of the lovely readers of mine, enjoy this one :) Although I must say, this brings me back to the days when I used to be suicidal, so the experiences of mine are translated into the form of reader's POV so that you would get to take a trip of what I had dealt with as well. Just as my other one-shot Delirious, I do not take mental health as to be a joke. I am here for you if you needed someone to talk to, just like how I know you would be supportive of my works. I would do my best to cater to you as well because YOU MATTER <3.

Warnings: Deals with HEAVY Topics, Depression Mentions, Heavy Angst but yes to fluff. Please please please refrain if you are easily influenced by such topics.

XAVIER

When you had arrived at HQ today, Captain Jenna had approached you, handing you a file and informing you about the location of the wanderer as per usual. You studied the file, the wanderer looking like a saber-tooth, with fangs that could definitely pierced through skin like paper. "Good morning." You directed your head upwards and your partner stood by the side of your desk, a smile on his handsome features as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Good morning Xavier." You handed the blue file to him and he took it, opening up the page and started reading through the details just like you did. "This should be a relatively easy mission. You ready for it?" He gently placed the file onto your desk and he waited for you to get up, before walking at the same pace as you to get to the basement parking.

Xavier is wearing his white suit today, the silverish-blue garters an accessory that also serves as a tool. You can tell that he had a good sleep last night given that his blazer was pressed and there is barely a crease on it. Regardless, crumpling of clothings would be normal anyways given the dynamic range of movements hunters have to do to kill a wanderer.

The mission had ended early just like every other time. Your pairing is known to be the best due to the compatibility of Xavier's light evol and your Resonance evol, hence it is an added advantage when it comes to dealing with wanderers. Him dealing damage to one of the wanderers and your evol resonates the same act of his, inflicting damage upon other wanderers without you touching them.

"Shall we go and get something to eat?" Xavier asked you, readjusting his garter and wiping off some of the dried crusts of a wanderer's bodily fluids off of his shoulders.

You flicked your hand, your weapon disappearing on call and you looked over to him. "It's alright. I am a little tired. I'm just gonna head home for the night." You turned and started heading towards the direction of your parked motorcycle, the moonlight only being your source of lighting.

"Wait, don't wander around alone." His warned, footsteps catching up to yours effortlessly. "You might get lost in this forest you know."

Your lack of comeback made him ran his palm across the back of his neck out of embarassment. If only you are still interested in his facial features, then you might just be able to catch sight of him blushing bashfully. "My bike's here. I'm gonna head off. Enjoy your meal." You did not give him any time to revert the same to you. You just hiked up onto your bike and rode off into the night.

The same situation happened for a couple more times, till he got used to it. You would appear for missions, complete it and then you would leave. Just like how he did last time when you first met him but now the tables have seemingly turned. He watched you as you tried to control your breath after the wanderer was defeated. This time it was a huge creature, with a large tail lined with huge spikes that could kill with one swipe and it took the both of you a bit more time than usual to defeat it.

"Hey, y/n, do you---" He walked closer to you, leaning down to get a better view of your hidden face. The long hair of yours a brunette curtain.

"No Xavier, I am fine." You assumed he was going to ask you out for dinner but you were quick to reject, not wanting to add on to anymore complications. "I just needed some time to myself."

"I was meaning to ask, if you are okay?" He stopped for a tad bit. "Is everything alright?"

Your nod was curt but his frown is becoming more prominent by every added minute. "I can tell something is wrong y/n."

"Perhaps I have not been getting enough sleep recently." You dismissed him, walking towards your bike with him following behind you in quickened footsteps. "But I can assure you I am fine."

"But, you barely come to HQ and you have been excusing yourself from dinner with me after missions. Your reason for the past few times have only been 'I am fine' and 'I am tired' which is what's concerning me." He came up to you, obstructing you from getting onto your motorbike.

"Xavier." Your voice lowered. "I just want to go home and rest." With your tone, the blondie gave up, sighing and stepping aside to let you get onto your bike and he watched as you revved your engine and darted off into the embrace of the darkness.

┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

The rings of your doorbell beckoned you to get up and off of your couch, the drama on your television turning into white noise in the back. Not that you were actually watching it anyways, the screen was on but your mind was floating elsewhere. This time however, you did not falter into your state of guilt, rendering you a chance to actually sit in still silence. You are admittedly taken aback at the sound of your doorbell ringing as you do not have any visitors checking in anytime soon including Tara. You took your time to get to the door, not even bothering to check the peephole and you swung open your door.

Here he is now, in front of your door, looking down at you from his towering height, with a casual outfit and a pizza box in his hands. Yes, he did pretended he was the pizza man just to get you to open up the door for him. Now he also knows that the peephole is just a decoration for your door.

The sight of you however, made his jaw dropped mentally. Your arm was littered in cut marks, in different shapes and depth, but the crusting of the scabs tells him that this had happened a couple of days ago. You nervously pulled your sleeves down to hide your scars, making intense eye contact with the ground. It did not hit you for you to cover your scars as to a stranger, they would care less of what happens behind your doors. But maybe much of a dismay towards Xavier. He occupied himself within your door frame and you staggered backwards.

"What's wrong?" He placed the pizza box onto the shelf next to him and he gently took your arm, pushing the sleeve up. Your hiss made him halted his actions, eyeing you for a further reaction before he spoke. "Why did you do this?"

"I..." You could not make up any words, tears gathering at the back of your eyes. The guilt flowing its way through your system instantly. It was like you lost all of your control and succumbed to your emotions. The emotions that you were so scared of showing to anyone. Especially to Xavier. With him being your partner, and your crush. You did not want him to report this to the team, and you certainly do not want him to think differently about you. "I...I was scared..." Your fist tightening. "I didn't want to lose anyone else like how I lost Tara."

Ever since that day you found out about Tara's death, you got lost. Blaming yourself was the only viable way for you to forgive yourself. She was stuck with some rookie to go and defeat a wanderer on the day you had called in sick. It was that specific mission with the inexperience rookie that got both her and the rookie killed.

Yes, it has nothing to do with you but it also has EVERYTHING to do with you. What if you did not report in sick that day? Maybe things would have had a better turn? And maybe, just maybe Tara would be able to pull through till you arrived on the scene? You remembered, the way she stared at you as she laid on the battlefield, blood oozing out of all of her orifices. Her eyes a window to her soul, opened but lifeless. As if she died hoping you could have arrived on time.

Xavier said nothing, his breaths slow and steady. Approaching you, the blond haired man pulled you in by your waist, his grip solid. You had sunken into the hole of self-blame, rotating around a death circle and at this point, Xavier could do nothing but to tell you that he is here for you, through his actions. "It's not your fault that she lost her life, y/n. Please don't blame it on yourself. I am sure Tara would not want you to do this to yourself either." He slowly lifted your arm up, analysing the wounds. They are skin deep but not deep enough to damage your skin permanently but he had to wash this and wrap this up quickly before it evolves into a nasty infection.

"I just couldn't stop myself Xavier. It hurts so much in my head that physical pain is the only way to relief it." You croaked with your dry throat. "I just felt so sad you know. Like it really hurts my heart. I don't know what is this feeling." After the first few hours of you losing Tara, you experienced nausea and headaches. Then comes the crying and the grief and then to the self-blame. You had read up about mental pain being able to manifest itself into physical pain but you were too ignorant of how severe this may be. So severe to the point that you had to result to self-harm to remind yourself of the pain you had to go through because of your carelessness. Leading you towards the bathroom, the boy was careful in his words and steps. "I believe this is what one would call grief. It hurts so much mentally that it hurts you physically as well. In this case, you have to hurt yourself to relieve the pain and I think it is time for you to meet a psychiatrist y/n." He sat you down onto the toilet seat and took out the medical kit from your cabinet. His words gave you the confirmation of what you had read about being factual. Kneeling down, he seeked for your confirmation with an alcohol pad in his hand.

When you nodded, he dabbed the pad across your arm and you bit onto your lips harshly to stop yourself from screaming out in agony. You do not deserve to scream as you had done this to yourself. His pause made you look at him. "You do not have to hold back. If it hurts, you can scream. If it hurts, you can cry. If it hurts still, you can talk to me." His eyes were sincere, the cerulean orbs a vast ocean, inviting you to be within his embrace as he opened up his arms to you.

And you fell, straight onto your knees and you grabbed onto his shirt, the blood crusts on your sleeve staining his shirt in the progress but the both of you could care less. You needed a good cry while he knows that you needed comfort. "It's alright y/n, I am here for you. I will always be here for you." His fingers ran through your hair, tucking some stray strands behind your ear, your body shook with every sob you took. "I just need you to know that regardless what happens, you can always tell me. I will never leave you alone, I can't bear to see you in this state because I love you." His sudden confession halted your cries for a moment, staring up at him with the ugliest look you got.

At this moment, you really wished that you could take any other days to hear his confession rather than hearing it from him when you are in such a vulnerable state. Seriously, who would want to get a confession when they are having a break down and they have tears and snot streaked on their face as part of their 'makeup'?

"You are saying this because you pity me, don't you?" You were ready to pull back, a slither of embarassment passed your expressions. "I do not need your pity."

"I do not pity you, y/n. In fact, I had always been admiring you for the things you do. You had uphold yourself well despite you are struggling so much. I really do like you and no matter what I will always be here for you." He reinstated his point and you grabbed hold onto his neck, crying even louder, strained voice echoed through your bathroom.

"I thought, I really thought I would have to deal with this all by myself. I can't, I never know that I am this weak." Your cries a reflection of your sadness and your relief, knowing that you can finally put your heart at rest, not having to deal with the grief all alone like how you always done it to yourself. Xavier placed his hand under your chin again and you looked up into his eyes of blue, with him leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. The death cycle shall come to an end.

ZAYNE

You tapped your feet onto the tiled floor impatiently. Clack, clack, clack. If anyone were to be within your vicinity now, your tapping against the floor would definitely be another added on frustration towards their state. Eyes darting everywhere, focusing on one thing to another. The door in front of you still remained tightly shut. The smell of antiseptic a constant fragrance within the hospital and you were about to get a headache.

You are up for your monthly routine check-up and meeting Zayne has always been nerve-wrecking, not because your heart is desperately trying to jump its way out of your chest and to give Zayne a hug, but it is also because you would like him to examine your brain as well. You figured something has been wrong with you mentally recently, after Tara's death to be exact. You get hot flashes at night, waking up at ungodly hours and sometimes, just sometimes, you would just want to lie in bed all day and not wanting to do anything, let alone eating.

You could not pinpoint exactly what was going wrong until the day you woke up from a nightmare, your chest tightened in a way you had never experienced before. Your breaths short and rushed, but no air was going into your lungs. Your throat had constricted airflow as well, choking you till your tears are being squeezed out of your eye sockets. It was until you had to scratch your arm till you bleed then you only regained consciousness, your breathing slowed, airways opening to welcome the fresh breaths of air that you were restrained from. You thought it was an allergy reaction for a moment but you were sure none of the allergies would get you to paw through your arm, breaking the skin barrier and seeing crimson red to replace the pain you had felt a while ago. Something is clearly wrong.

You had chose to wear a loose sweater today, not wanting to reveal your so-called battle scar to random strangers. Not wanting them to judge you for 'Im so emo, I hurt myself to be cool and I preach that battle scars are a sign for me fighting for my life in everyday society'. You can hear that in your own head, slowly succumbing into a state of blurred vision as you lowered your head, your vision darkening. "It's your turn." The familiar voice brought you out of your own reverie. Another shadow loomed over your hunched body, with straight shoulders and what seemed to be an outline of a long coat, you knew it was Zayne.

"Yeah." You stood up slowly and followed behind the cardiologist into his room. As usual, you took a seat next to his desk, the padded seat warm to your bum. A knob twisting, in suit with a locking sound, it marks the start for your checkup session. The room was filled with tension, as Zayne ran his stethoscope down your back, listening cautiously to your heartbeat as you took in deep breaths. The man's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed as if your heartbeat had an arrythmia. "What is it?" You asked, noticing that the listening session of his is unusually longer then usual.

"It seems like your heartbeat is slower. And there were slight staggers of arrhythmia on your right atrium. I should run some bloodtests and perhaps get an MRI scan on your heart as well." He retracted the stethoscope away from your back and walked to the front of you, fingers scooped your chin up and you looked at the man in front of you now. Standing tall, with broad shoulders that could be spotted underneath the bulky medical coat of his. He is in his blue scrubs today, perhaps a surgery aligned earlier on and he did not have much time to change out of it.

He took a small flashlight the shape of a pen out of his coat and he leaned down, a waft of his cologne hitting your nose. Minty fresh with a mix of antiseptic, that is what he smells like on the days he has a full schedule ahead. You peeled open you eyes wider and he flashed the light into your pupils, his hazel green orbs in an uncalled staring competition with you. "Pupils are functioning well as usual, but I do realise some redness at your whites. Have you been getting enough sleep?" A slight hint of him caring for your quality of sleep went away as fast as it arrived.

"I...Actually..." Your lips froze, words forming at the tip of your tongue but you could not roll out any of them. It was like your brain was subconsciously begging you not to tell Zayne, in order to not ruin his impressions of you being a healthy individual. He is a doctor, what harm would that cause if you were to tell him that you had been experiencing some mental issues these past few days? Perhaps he would just throw you some medical facts, ask you to drink more water and you should feel better in a day or two.

Then you recalled when your grandmother had passed, he did not show any bits of sympathy towards you other than passing on the box that was left behind by your late grandmother. He did not even ask if you were doing alright when you sat right here in his office, trying so hard to hold those choked sobs back. The thought of him not showing any sympathy towards you during the loss of your grandmother gave you the ultimate decision that you will not reveal anything to him. "I had been sleeping late these days because of paperwork."

The doctor sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the glasses sat comfortably at the bump he has on his nose. "If its so, try not to procrastinate in the afternoon and actually do your paperwork instead of rushing them all at once in the middle of the night." His sound advice not a bit helpful to your fib. "You wearing a long sleeved sweater in the middle of summer would cause you to get a heat stroke, which would directly affect your heart as well. So I would advice you to keep cool whenever you can." He sat down in his chair, picking up a pen and started scribbling away on the prescription tab. "As for now, take these medications for your arrhythmia. Once the MRI is scheduled I will get the nurse to contact you to come in for the scan."

┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

"Y/n." Tap tap tap. "Y/n wake up." An oddly familiar voice drowned your hearing, your body lifted off of the floor by a force. "Y/n. Please wake up." The smell of antiseptic filled your nose and your eyes slowly opened up, the blinding lights above made it hard for you to adjust to your surroundings. Your name was called out again and you turned your head a little, catching sight of Zayne, his eyes slightly widened. He was staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You could barely remember what happened. Ringing in your heads made you winced and the man pulled you tighter within his arms. Your face now against his hard torso. "What happened?"

You blinked your eyes a couple more times and you looked down. Blood pooled on your wooden floors, the wax layered on top of it preventing the liquid from seeping through. Your arms were streaked in red, the evidence clear as daylight underneath your fingernails. It probably happened again, did it? "I...I don't know." You responded weakly, your lips equivalent to sandpaper. "I don't know what happened."

Zayne pushed you back a little and he held your arm up by your wrist, eyeing over all of the bloody and deep scratches to search for a sign of infection. Perhaps, a sign for why would you do this to yourself as well. Zayne decided to come by your abode when you had missed out on your MRI appointment, him knowing that you would not purposely miss out on any medical appointments and even if you have to, you would at least have the decency to make a call to inform.

That day when you left the room, he noticed your charm was lacking, your retorts were non-existent, and your face was ghoulish. You struggling to tell him a piece of your mind, only to retract back and say that you fell asleep late due to paper work caught the doctor off-guard as well. But he is not the type to intrude, to ask you questions that you would not want to answer.

He came by, searching under your potted plants for the key and it was slotted right beneath the jasmine pot that he had given you as a congratulatory present when you got accepted into Unicorn. His heart inexplicably felt warm at the thought of you still caring for the jasmine till this day. He twisted the key into the doorknob and it clicked open, slotting himself right into your doorway and he looked through your apartment. It looked neat, but the lights were not turned on. He heard a loud thud and his footsteps reacted to it, carrying him across your living room and towards your bedroom.

Another thud, this time louder, echoed through your room and he opened the door hastily, immediately catching sight of your body, laying on the floor, jolting as if you were shocked by an invisible electric current. You are having a seizure, in a pool of blood that he could only assume belonging to you. He took three long strides and he was shocked to his core. Your arms were littered with long and narrow open wounds, the culprit being your blood stained fingers. Your eyes were flipped to the back of your head, veins popped out of your neck as one of your hand latched itself onto your forearm and yo dug deeper into your wounds. "Y/n!" He shouted, unbuttoning his sleeves and pushing them up his forearm and he dived down onto his knees to heave you towards him, away from the wall.

He immediately started doing CPR, going according to the beat as he switched between pumping your chest and blowing air into your mouth. The effectivity of the CPR started kicking in when your convulsions started to calm down, your body going from tensing to limp and you laid unmoving on the floor. He leaned down to get a good hearing of your heart. It is beating in a normal rhythm, a good sign that you are still alive. The arrhythmia is gone now but the soon-to-be scars on your arms is the next thing he worries about.

He did not understand, none of the theories he had studied about one's physicality applied. The heart arrhythmia, the sight of you convulsing on the floor, the hearings of your choked breaths as he watched you, the skin deep lacerations inflicted upon yourself only with the use of your fingernails. None of the symptoms matched any of his medical theories. i am not a doctor, pls dont chew me on this :,)

Unless it has something to do out of his field, which is the mental aspect. Zayne being a doctor, although succeeded at a relatively young age, but his expertise has always been within the field of cardiology. Of course he has friends within the psychological field, but it never struck him that you would end up with a mental illness. You had always been fit as a fiddle in his eyes, both mentally and physically. But all it takes is for two accidents in a row to trigger the mental illness for you. If its so, why did you not tell him anything about it? Why did you keep it all to yourself? He knew he should have said something, he should have stayed by your side when he found out about Tara's death. It was too short of a timeframe for you to be dealing with two deaths within a few months' gap.

"It's alright, you will be okay. Everything will be alright." He only remembered during one of the mental illness campaigns he was asked to attend, they taught of ways to identify individuals experiencing mental illness and very little was talked about how can one deal with someone who is having an episode. The speaker said something about acceptance, comfort and validation. And that is to the extent of what Zayne knows.

"Y/n, I need you to take in deep breaths, I need you to calm down." He could not treat her just like any other patient in this damn moment. This vulnerability of hers is new territory for him, but it shows that she is not as strong as she portrays herself to be and this part of her provoked him to want to be there for her even more than before.

"I don't know...I don't know why I am like this." You trembled in his arms, your head spinning and you felt like you were about to taste bile anytime.

"And it is not your fault, y/n." His voice is calm, soothing to your ears. You could feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear and you looked up at him, the lights above him forming an angelic halo. "It shall never be your fault." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I am sorry that I was never there for you. From now on, let me be there for you." Other than the kiss on your forehead being a shock factor, the fact he wanted to be involved in your life and your 'journey-to-recovery' made your heart skipped an extra beat. "I promise you, from now on, I will always be by your side, only when you want me to."

You lifted your hand up to touch his cheeks, your palm cold to the touch on his warm face. You swore you saw him blushed for a mere second. "Of course I would want you to be by my side Zayne." And he gave you a comforting smile. The man then slowly inched down, eyes looking between your eyes and lips. When you tilt your head upwards, he took it as your consent and you both shared the first kiss.

RAFAYEL

"Do you want that?" Rafayel asked you, index finger pointed right at a banana boat plushie. Two 'flavours' to be picked from, one with the usual chocolate, vanilla and strawberry theme while the other has a caramel, vanilla and banana theme. You were about to pick for the latter but the man standing beside you was quicker in calling out shots. "I think the original one would fit you better. The colour theme just looks more harmonious than the other."

You watched as he picked up the dart and aimed it towards the target. He pulled his wrist back and with a flick, the dart landed onto the target's bullseye. The stall owner did not look a bit amused, probably thinking that he could scam Rafayel enough money for a meal. Walking over to the banana boat plushie, the guy took it down and handed it to Rafayel over the counter. "Thanks." You smiled, hugging the plushie when he gave it to you.

"Where is my hug?" Rafayel looked betrayed, the signature pout of his surfacing. "I was the one who scored you Mr.Babana here." Yes, he called it Babana. Smiling, you went over to him, arms opened wide and you hugged him, your head settling right into his chest. He smelled of grapefruit and white wood, with a splash of peach as the base. You thought he only used one perfume for all types of events as he has voiced his dislike for strong smelling scents but you were clearly wrong. Musky smelling ones for when he attends interviews, fresh smelling ones for when he attends events, and sweet smelling ones are only reserved for his outings with you.

His chin was propped right above the top of your head, and he smells fresh shampoo. You nagging him about how sakura composites are good for the hair recently is enough for him to know what shampoo you are currently using. To Rafayel, you are not that hard to decipher. In fact, you may be one of the most uncomplicated character he had ever met in his life. Your genuine emotions and expressions a direct reflection to your conscience and that is exactly why he likes you.

"Thank you for the Mr.Babana." You chuckled, pulling away from the hug but his arms remained on your shoulder, he would have opted to hold your waist but he wanted to make sure that you would not be uncomfortable in this situation.

"My pleasure of course." He mimicked your smile and this time, the both of you took a step back from each other and then walked down the path together. The cobblestones beneath your shoe reflecting the lights from the parade, painting them in all sorts of colours that offers more variety than a rainbow. "Y/n, I have to travel abroad tomorrow to attend one of my exhibitions. So, I was wondering once I am back from my business trip, would you like to go out with me again?"

Him informing you about the business trip made you hesitant to answer him. Not because you did not want to go out on a date with him again. You just did not want to be alone. Not when you had just lost a friend to a wanderer. All of the smiles you had presented today are genuine, but deep down, you were worried your remorse would eat you up and ruin the whole date for today. The last thing you want is for Rafayel to be on the receiving end for your breakdowns.

"I am waiting for a yes." You jolted at how close he is to your face, you could practically feel his breath against your skin. He smirked, taking a step back to give you some breathing space, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans. The young man today adorned a fitted black tshirt with a pair of jeans, pairing over it is a jean jacket. Simple outfit but definitely looks amazing on him.

"Y...yeah, of course we can Rafayel." You looked down, nervously trying to calm your hyped heartbeats. With that, the date between you two came to an end, with Rafayel fetching you home safely and making sure you got into your home before he drove off.

┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

Rafayel had left for his business trip for the past two days. And for the past two days, it can only be described as hellish for you. Jerking yourself off of your bed, you sat straight, eyes widened as cold sweat trickled down the back of your neck. Yet another nightmare, the same one every night. With the sight of Tara laying on the traylike bed in the morgue, awaiting for you to identify her. She was as pale as the walls surrounding her, her body laid rigid, and her eyes closed. It almost seemed like she was asleep but you knew right then and there, she would not be able to open her eyes anymore.

She had a wound the size of a bullet in between her eyebrows. They called it a fatality spot as anything that is sharp enough to penetrate that area and passing the skull would be guaranteed an instant death. Just like what Tara had gone through. The wound however, according to autopsy, was inflicted by something biological, so bullets are out of the question and the only answer you could think of is the act of a berserk wanderer. You kept trying to blink, assuming that if you blinked hard enough, Tara would be able to rise again and everything would be back to how it was like. But, that's not the case most of the time.

Instead of accepting her death, you chose to deny it. Ironic, your identification process of Tara in the morgue is validated but you yourself chose to not accept the reality of her death. You even refused to go to her funeral the day after tomorrow, claiming to yourself that it would only make you hate yourself more than anything else. You were not there when it happened as you were sent onto another mission, a much tougher one that involves civillians. So, Tara was assigned this mission, just to deal with a bunch of wanderers. Or so you heard, but her wound says otherwise. Whatever wanderer she had been dealing with is certainly way beyond what she could handle.

The date between you and Rafayel took place the day after her funeral so the wounds of your grief still remained fresh. With that stated analogy, the first few days of your denial marks the start of your wounds, freshly cut opened, breaking off the surface of the skin barrier but still not deep enough to leave a scar. Now you are in phase two, where blood starts seeping through the wound as it has broken through the skin barrier, cutting deeper. This is where the nightmares become more and more revolting, more and more realistic that you have a hard time differentiating between your trance and reality.

You buried your face into Mr.Babana and you cried like there is no tomorrow. You had to get it out somehow, and the best way you could think of is to cry yourself to sleep again and pray hard so that you would not have a continuation of the nauseating nightmare. When you opened your eyes again, you were met with the warmth of the sunlight peeking in through your window. Sunlight in general, is known to promote energy boosting for one's body but right now, it only did the opposite for you.

Your phone rang, drowning out the sounds of your ugly cries. Shimmying towards you bedside, you held up your phone and you saw the contact name 'Your Favourite Fishie'. You specifically recalled that you had saved his name under Rafayel, but when did it got changed? Maybe it was during that time when he was playing on your phone while his was charging and he seized the opportunity to change his name into something so ridiculous like this. You sniffled, trying to calm your breathing the best possible and you answered the call. "Hello." You croaked out. Shit.

"Hey, y/n. Did I happen to wake you up?" His voice came through the other side of the call. He sounded borderline concern.

"No, you didn't don't worry. I woke up to use the washroom." You spoke, if he were to be in front of you right now, he would be nagging you to speak up but thank goodness your phone has a good microphone to pick up your small volume. "How is your exhibition going?"

"Boooring." You can tell he was rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "That's why I am already on my way back. I will arrive in probably half an hour. So would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Contemplating, you knew that if you were to meet him in 30 minutes, your puffy face would lead to a telltale sign that you had just cried. Then, you assumed that Rafayel would be disappointed with you. You see, Rafayel had never been the type to submit towards pressure, instead, he is a notorious rebel towards it. It is like he has something personal against stress. With your current status, you immediately felt like you are not worthy to be spending your time with him. Let alone having to have a huge crush on him. What makes you think that he would like you back if he found out about your current state of distress? He would definitely not want to deal with such an issue.

"Actually, today I am not free. I have stuffs to do." You gnawed onto your lip.

Pouting, the purple haired man crossed his legs nonchalantly, sitting himself comfortably in his luxurious car as Thomas drove it. "Like what stuffs?"

You panicked, eyes watery and you sniffled. "I have to go to the doctors. I am having a flu and I don't want to infect you."

Rafayel heard that sniffle of yours and he immediately replied. "Oh, alright. Then you rest well okay? There will always be some other day that I can bring you out for a nice dinner so you owe me that alright?"

"Yeah okay." And the call ended with him saying 'bye and take care'. Hanging up the phone, your lips quivered, chills ran down your spine as you started hesitating about whether you should still stay in contact with Rafayel. You could not possibly land him to be your boyfriend, where did the confidence come from? "I am just not worth it." Your cries then came back.

The next hour went by and you were laying in your bed the whole time, no will to move, no appetite, no will to even meet anyone. You just wanted to succumb to your loneliness, the sound of the fan is the only voice you can hear. The only company you have for now. You had just calmed down from your break down, your eyes full on puffy now and you are experiencing after-cries hiccups. Your mind had a constant voice, reminding you of just how useless you are not only at your job, but also your incapability to keep your emotions in check. Feeling overwhelmed, you curled into a ball and just allow the tears to flow.

The door to your room creaked open but it did not faze you. You were too caught up with the voices in your head but Rafayel's voice made you covered your ears. You are delusional now, great. Until a hand touched your shoulder then you snapped your head towards the source, met with purplish-blue eyes that were filled with utmost concern for you. "Hey, hey what happened?" He climbed onto your bed and sat right in front of you, his large hands cupping your small face, his thumb drew over your cheeks, dismissing your tears. "Why are you crying y/n? Did someone hurt you?"

Your silence marks the end of his questioning and he pulled you into his chest. His solid torso cushioning your head as he laid down with you in his arms, on top of him. "Shh, it's alright." Rafayel held you close to him. "I know things have been tough for you."

"We should stop meeting." Your desolating suggestion made him pulled back in shock, his eyes scanning your face for any smiles or hints of it being a joke but he did not find any at all. "I like you Rafayel, and I think this is not healthy for you."

"Who are you? The moral police? Who are you to determine what is healthy or not for me?" His eyebrows are furrowed in frustration. "Even if you want to push me away, you can't because I am in love with you y/n. I am so madly in love with you that I kept thinking about you everyday, everything that I see reminds me of you, every artwork that I inspect at the exhibition only related to you. So, you can't push me away, no matter how hard you try."

"But, whatever I am experiencing now, it makes me think I am not worth---" His finger silenced you, pressing it against your lips to ask you to shut up politely.

"Do not speak for me y/n. As much as I like to hear your voice, I do not want to hear such unflattering ideas from your pretty head okay?" He ran his hand down the sides of your cheek, his gaze loving. "I want you to know that, I will never let you cry alone, ever again. Do not worry about me being stressed out or anything about you not being able to be in control of your emotions. I am sure I can handle anything when it comes to you, for I had waited a long time for someone like you y/n. Annnnd I will not let something as simple as you going through a period of depression push me away. So, why don't you do me a favour and tell me what is going on in that pretty head of yours?"

His confession surely warmed your heart, with you staring at him in disbelief. You know he had always been showing signs of him being interested in you, but you never thought you would be able to catch sight of him being empathetic towards you. Your sobs came again, this time much more stronger and you leaned into him, spending the day telling him about everything that you had went through and ended up sleeping next to him. Rafayel propped himself up on his elbow and he watched your features, puffy and reddish but you did not lack your beauty amidst all of the chaos you have to go through. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, a promise to you that he would stay with you forever.

This is the end of this one-shot and sorry my lovelies, this will not be getting an extra episode or anything. It shall only be ending here :,)

P.S: These are part and parcel of my actual experiences, hence I do not downplay or look down on anyone who are struggling with mental illness. As I know it is very tough to get over it. The part where Rafayel had spoken to reader, where he would be by his side blah blah, was actually what my boyfriend told me when I was having a terrible panic attack. So please my girlies, do not settle for the bare minimum and lower your standards for a guy/gurl who could not be better for you. Because you all deserve happiness oki.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Can you please do an azriel or fenrys x reader of him taking care of her after a drunkenness?

Silly

Azriel didn’t enjoy alcohol. He never understood the appeal and quite frankly the smell alone for years hunted him. Reminding him of his drunken father. The pain. The torture. The male he never wanted to turn to. So he kept himself away from it. Not that he was afraid of getting addicted more from the pain it inflicted. Scarcely enjoying a glass of bourbon with his brothers. Or downing a shot or two when drunken Mor stumbled to him at Rita’s.

“I wonder when we should intervene”, Rhys chuckled eyes fixed on his mate practically crawling towards the stage at Rita’s. “I tried, look where it got me”, Cass grunted, lifting his iced glass away from his cracked eyebrow. He had been pinning after Nesta for so long. It was painful to watch if Azriel was honest. But his brother was determined. “They haven’t let loose in a while. Let them be”, the spymaster muttered, his shadows swirling at your feet as you tried to climb the steps.

You two weren’t exactly together yet Azriel couldn’t help the feeling that ran through him when his mind drifted to you. The thought made him frown slightly. Maybe he was a hypocrite for judging Cassian’s situation when his wasn’t that much different. It was worse. Both Cassian and Rhys saw you as their sister. The same feeling Azriel should have shared but it had always been different. There was always more.

“Show me your ass, witch”, Cassian shouted, making Nesta glare, before she reached for her shoe. Flinging it across the room screaming, “Eat shit!”. All the girls giggled around her and even Cassian laughed. “That’s my wife’s move”, Rhys grunted, “Need to be more inventive”. But his voice didn’t reach her as Feyre ushered the musician off the stage, before motioning for Mor to play something. The drunken voices that joined suit made all three of the males laugh but Cassian was the only one who joined in.

All Azriel could focus on, however, was your flushed cheeks as you giggled bracing yourself onto the piano. Your hair was messy, braids half loose but that’s what you got from dancing with Cassian. A pang shot through Azriel, it should have been him. He should have been the one spinning you around. So lost in his thoughts he didn’t feel the tug of his shadows until he heard a thud and gasps. Slipped his shadows clawed at his legs as Azriel pushed up from the booth. Ready to assess the damage.

“Move aside”, he ushered the drunken girls, ready to see anyone but you there. His heart leaped as he knelt. “Yn”, he called gently. You sat so still with your hair over your face that he couldn’t understand the damage. Until a laugh bubbled through your lips as you threw your head back. His palm rested on your back as you tilted backward, nearly sending yourself toppling over.

“Okay”, Azriel sighed, “Come on, before you reck this place”, “Did you see?”, you wheezed, clasping your hand over his, “My heel…”, your voice died down as another wave of laughter erupted from your mouth. Azriel just shook his head, “You could have cracked your skull, silly”, steadying you onto your feet, even if he doubted that you could even stand, he turned towards his brother. A look was enough to let them know that he was leaving and taking you with him.

“You’re blowing it”, you muttered. Air caught in Azriel’s chest, “Sorry, what?”, surely this was not the time for him to start thinking of things that you probably didn’t even mean. “Blowing the fun”, you blinked at him. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes, love”, he mused, wrapping an arm around your middle as he walked you out of the Rita’s.

“Azriel”, you whined, stopping in your tracks. He simply hummed. “My feet”, you pointed to your heels. “Did you hurt your ankle?”, a panic washed over him as he knelt once more, making you giggle as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “Dang did you go down fast, it was a blur”, you laughed. “Pull yourself together, woman, did you hurt yourself?”, he demanded, running his fingers over your ankles looking for visible bruises.

“Nope”, you popped the p, “Killer heels give you killer foot pain”, you shrugged, watching his shoulders sag before he stood back up. “Carry me back home?”, you asked him trying to appear innocent. “You will be the death of me”, he grunted but wrapped his arks around you anyway. “No”, you shook your head, “But Nesta might be”. Azriel chuckled, “I think Cassian is in more danger in that department”. You hummed, cuddling deeper into him when the night air brushed against your skin. “Can I ask you something?”, you muttered, looking up at him from his shoulder. “Sure”, Azriel mused, stepping through the narrow streets. “If I wasn’t drunk would you kiss me?”, your words made Azriel nearly lose his footing. “Where is this coming from?”, he looked down at you, eyelids drooping slowly. “Cause, I wanted to kiss you all night long”, you muttered against him making Azriel’s heart flutter. “Can you ask me that tomorrow?”, he muttered, feeling you nod against his shoulder. “But can you remind me of it?”, you added quickly. “How would I do that?”, Azriel slowly ran his hand down your back. “By kissing me yourself, silly”, you giggled, “I give you permission to do that”.

[xo-cod]

would you write something about casual intimacy with simon please??🥹🫠

i'm in love with casual intimacy :") hope you enjoy babe <33 i couldn't pick one so i did a bunch but lmk if you'd like a specific scenario 🤍

rushed/ooc as usual.

affection and attention had been something the masked soldier had struggled with for years. he naturally had been closed off and reserved at the start, he didn't care much for intimacy having never truly finding it in his life. but when you entered his life, it'd all changed him completely

simon riley who disliked being caught in hugs and being squeezed, who grew to become incredibly uncomfortable and awkward around hugs and physical touch now came home from a long and hard day of work to actively seek you out and just collapse onto you in a heap, cuddling you close to his chest falling asleep on you. feeling as safe as ever between your arms

simon riley who was an incredibly observant man, who was known on picking up on the small habits others around him did even if they weren't aware of it casually and silently handing you glasses of water or food throughout the day because he knows you might tend to forget or you didn't have a good habit of remembering when to do so.

simon riley who had an intelligent yet busy mind, filled to the brim of placements on how to take down the target as efficiently as possible and how better to inflict the worst torture on his enemy carried space to memorise your coffee/tea order, making sure it was just the right temperature for you to drink and the correct amount of sweetener (or none) so you didn't have to top up

simon riley who everytime you both spoke couldn't help but fidget slightly with you purely out of love. who noticed everytime a strand had been out of place and delicately brushing it back as you spoke to him, continuing to listen intently but making sure your hair remained as perfect as ever

simon riley who was a natural born leader and protector, who lead his team along with price through countless battles and ensuring every last of his men came back to safety now couldn't stop protecting you no matter what. holding your hand securely with his fingers toying with yours or a gentle hand on the small of your back guiding you through the crowd of the streets, keeping you safe and close by at all times

simon riley who didn't laugh much through his youth or a fair share of his adulthood, never being able to find that connection and keeping to himself now gently nudged your calf with his foot under the table everytime soap and gaz did something stupid knowing it was funny but wouldn't give them the ego boost so he kept it to you solely. or his linking his foot with yours from the opposite side even if it was unknowingly because his body craved your warmth, some part of him having to touch you no matter what

or simon riley who was incredibly strong and who scoffed at the sight of couples, who thought he didn't need someone else now enjoyed resting his head gently on your lap whenever he had the chance. his fingers laced with yours as he brought the back of your palm for a soft kiss, still not used to the fact that you were his and he was yours.

simon riley loved different than most, initially he had been too worried to even reciprocate any feelings because he was damaged. some parts of his past couldn't be healed and he swore up and down he could never do to uou what his father did to his mother. some days were easy and others were hard, some days he sought out your touch other days he needed to be alone for a while to decompress.

but even in those silent moments, there was love.

he learnt that perhaps love itself didn't have to be made of grand gestures or explosive displays. it didn't have to be chaotic and mind numbing, it didn't have to be so terrifying and confusing. you were the anchor keeping him steady and grounded

love was made up of the little things and simon was so full of them, he might've not been the most romantic person in the whole world but he was always there and he cared for you in ways that couldn't fully explain himself. it took months of him adjusting around you, it took time to fully trust and let you in, to break down the walls that guarded his heart so fiercely but your life had intertwined so deeply with his, his heart was yours simply all along.

he thanked his lucky stars everyday when it came to you because he didn't have to pretend or make a charade, this love came easy. your love came easy and it wasn't for a price it wasn't something you snatched and dangled in front of him only to watch him fall and break. you kept him steady and in return, he cherished you well.

you truly were the other half to his soul <3

[mikichko]

part of adoptive parents!ghoap x reader cw: mentions of abusive childhood, parents, and scars from said abuse. a/n: wrote this instead of doing my chores :) (i cried)

simon learns the hard way that there's no handbook on being a parent.

sure, the parenting section of bookstores is always full of colorful quippy books on tips for developmental stages. but, there's no handbook for the actual process of becoming a parent. you can make a step by step guide on how to get a child through teething, sleep training, and even potty training but not how to endure the emotional transition of becoming a parent.

there's no book on overcoming fear, trust he's looked. just ones that give lists of things to have ready before a child arrives. simon has it all ready. has finalized the color palette of the boys' room, painted the mural himself, even had price build the frame for the bed himself. meticulous little details carved into the wood that he hopes his future son will love. but material things only cover a small aspect of what a child needs.

no matter how ready he is in that aspect, simon can't shake the terror that the thought of fatherhood brings.

it's everpresent, simmering just below the surface of his skin, silencing him and dulling the days where it agitates itself into a rolling boil. he's been acquainted with fear, the feeling isn't fully foreign but simon cringes nonetheless. because fear feeds the voices, and the voices love to make simon suffer. they always have.

fear drives him out of his marital bed, slipping away from johnny's pliant warm body in exchange for the still, cold air of the living room. he keeps the light off, guided by the beautiful cascade of moonlight that filters through the windows. settles on the couch, underneath the gentle light, as he inspects his marked palms. it's hard to see the scars in the moonlight. they're not large, not like the ones that warp the skin on his arms or the ones on his back.

no, these are defensive scars.

and simon can still feel the blow that delivered them. a stored memory with a sick interactive feature activated on these cold nights. a boy never forgets when his father beats him, he thinks, it's something he carries. and although this simon isn't sixteen, that scrawny bruised body shed long ago, he's still a boy. even when time erodes his memory, picking at any loose bits, the pain will persist. he'll never truly forget.

bathed in moonlight, he's left to wonder what right he has to be a father. the only fatherly hands that have landed on him had been violent. tearing at him until even fresh water made both his skin and eyes sting. til the violence invaded his dreams, forcing him to spend the rest of his night in a shallow rest, until he was eighteen. years spent with his ears perked, waiting for the creak of the fifth step, the indicator that he had to fight again. how was he meant to make a proper home for a child when he had only ever known a shattered one?

it doesn't take long for johnny to find him. he does every night, of course. the cool air invading where simon had previously occupied, alerting johnny to his absence. simon's silent call that johnny always responds. he never asks, knows the brunette well enough. understands that simon's palms are a testament to the damage that's been inflicted on him. the evil he's been subjected to.

simon doesn't have to speak of it, but he does. on a dry starry night in urzikstan, comms off and johnny as his sole observer, he verbalizes his fear of becoming a father. not now, this is not the proper line for a good father, but sometime in the future.

johnnys’s seen firsthand the kind of terror the masked man can inflict. how easily his hands can break bones, turn necks, and knock someone from this life.

but those are the hands of a tool. an asset. not the hands of a man. those are ghost's hands, not simon's.

johnny has seen simon, truly. has seen how he handles the robins that perch on his index finger, mistaking its girth for an incredibly still branch. has seen the softness in which he handles the tabby street cat they feed from time to time. fingers barely touching her coat as he strokes her forehead, soothing her until she’s calm enough to eat. seen the man he becomes when he’s holding gaz and price’s little girl in his arms. body stiff and eyes wet as his arms engulf the bundle of pink whose tanned hand grabs at simon’s too big finger. when she grasps, she doesn't even manage to wrap her finger around it completely, she coos nonetheless. it's easy to spot the love swirling in his honey eyes as he looks down at her.

johnny presses himself up against his husband, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. his hand rubs at his back soothingly and his forehead presses against his temple. they sit for some time, both illuminated by the light from the celestial body, until johnny finally feels simon relax. his husband returning to him from the turbulent tides of his mind. the man that johnny knows will make a great father.

sometime in the future, with zach sprawled across his chest, curls tickling the bottom of his chin, simon will remember this. will remember the moonlight, the pain, the fear that gripped him, and the scruff that grounded him again. he'll laugh, as gently as possible to not disturb the dinosaur covered boy, before tucking the memory away.

it'd be easier to laugh then, with zach in his arms. with the adoration he feels for his boy warming him fully, it'll be easier to forget the cold tides that pulled him away that night.

it's true, they don't teach you how to become a parent, it's not something you can encapsulate in a book. simon doesn't think he could verbalize the emotions that well up when he looks at this boy, his son, in a way that would do them justice. if there are they evade him.

this boy, his boy, who softens him around the edges, pulls fondness, care, and love from places he hadn't even known had any left.