#but i promise there's Reasons and Logic behind it too

[ilikekidsshows]

Not to sure how to phrase this in a way that doesn't sound like Marinette salt, but I was curious about the morality of this option.

Since the show since s4 goes on and on about how unbearable every walking moment as Ladybug is now for Marinette to the point where she can do awful things to people and abuse her powers without ever being asked to finally learn from it and improve bc that's too stressful and horrible to Marinette

Well, at what point is it just the reasonable thing to do to propose Marinette giving up her Guardianship so she can go back to being a normal girl with a normal life?

It would be a loss, but let's not pretend like Marinette is gonna loose 90% of her life. She would loose A YEAR which was supposedly so torturous to her that she now thinks she's the embodiment of Truth and the Queen of Reality?

Just go to Suhan, tell him her job was defeating Hawkmoth and that's done now and she doesn't feel like she's suitable anymore to continue. She wants her normal life back, all she's asking for is that she gets to tell her parents first so they can properly go about this.

Overall, making it happen that the people in Marinette's life think she had some sort of accident (maybe even through being the victim of magic) that left her tragically without memories of the last year is doable. Anyone who claims otherwise is just making up excuses.

What would she even loose besides her status as the new anti-hero Queen of the Galaxy (that is 10 seconds and one disagreement away from her villain arc)? She will keep all her friends, her family will be in the know and take care of her, she will keep Adrien, she has a promising and bright future ahead of her anyway, and she only lost ONE year. Not a lifetime. One year.

The only 'loss' she would have is Cat Noir but season 4 and 5 made it very clear that he has no room in her life beyond being her battle care taker and pet to sacrifice. We saw it the entire time that he and his presence mean very little to her in her real life and she doesn't want him to be part of it. She has no interest in getting to know him either. We saw it in Kwamis Choice, this is not a real loss for Marinette. She'd get over it in a week at most.

So what exactly is stopping her from dipping out when apparently every breath she takes is torture now so she "gets" to take that out on everyone else to make sure SHE is fine before all else?

Just leave. You HAVE the option of leaving it all behind you! Tell Suhan and Alya to watch out for the new Butterfly wanting to drag Marinette back into it and call it a day. At that point Marinette would be of no use for Lila to target anyway if she actually wants to accomplish something with the wish. If Marinette isn't Ladybug anymore and has no memories of anything then Lila will never accomplish anything by going after her. Just LEAVE. At what point is that just the logical thing to propose when Marinette herself has no connection to shit and only makes it worse for the victims?

I don't mean this in the salty way, that's a genuine question. Marinette is not owed to reign the universe as Ladybug and have victims because she had a shit year. And very obviously this role is VERY BAD for her mental health since that's her never-ending excuse for making things worse for other people and not doing her actual job as Ladybug.

Yes she's 14 years old, but that's also it. She's a 14 year old in a position that's now clearly doing herself and the world more harm tham good because she's not cut out out right now to be a super hero guardian leader who has to take care of PEOPLE and VICTIMS before herself. There is no reason for her to continue staying in her position that'll only make things worse. Just leave. UNLIKE MOST OTHERS YOU HAVE THE OPTION.

---

The only thing I can think of is “people are counting on me!” but, like, girl, you're not irreplaceable. Anyone somewhat heroic could be Ladybug and would be more motivated to do it than Marinette “I knew Gabriel was Hawk Moth and intended to ignore it” Dupain-Cheng (although, I’m pretty sure that writers will retcon that dereliction of duty by the time season 6 airs). She only hangs on to her position because it's a pattern for her to just whine about how badly she has it while doing nothing to try to change things even when she's the one with all the power and control.

Marinette clearly doesn't want to be a superhero, she always has complaints about her job and "saving people" isn't exactly a passion of hers. She's far more enthusiastic about doing more mundane favors for people, which is why she actually wants to be and likes being class president. The difference between how Marinette treats her class presidency and how she treats her roled as Ladybug/Guardian couldn't make this clearer. Even pre-retool, Marinette never voiced any kind of enjoyment towards her role as Ladybug, and post-retool, she only brings up having superpowers and the Kwamis as a perk to Alya. Basically, the thing she gets out of being Ladybug is feeling special.

The reasons we can come up with for why Marinette has to keep going on as Ladybug while it's clearly ruining her mental health are all pretty self-centered. She thinks she's so much better at being Ladybug than anyone else that she's irreplaceable. She can't stand forgetting a year of her life because that's her life and her remembering it is more important than the people she's harming, including herself, by upholding the status quo the way she does. That's her title and she should get to keep it because it's hers. She's so important, valued, appreciated and celebrated as Ladybug that she couldn't possibly go back to being just plain Marinette, because she's so blind to how beloved she is and how much people celebrate her mere existence that she probably thinks she’d be left with nothing and no one.

[moonpleaser]

one million headcanons be upon ye

[awakenedevildays]

「bathtubs and requests」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"you should move in with me" Art's voice echoes off the bathroom walls of his apartment, it's all so relaxing: the heat of the water around your bodies, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you are so comfortable that it takes a while for you to realize what he just said.

"what?"

"you heard me" he murmurs against your neck "come live with me" an incredulous laugh leaves your mouth and you try to turn completely towards him, but his arms clench tighter around you and prevent you from moving enough to do so.

"may I ask why you are asking this now?" you move slightly to the side to see his face emerging from the hollow of your neck.

"I feel like we're ready to do it" his eyes avoid yours and focus instead on his fingers as they start caressing your shoulder "and it's also the next logical step in our relationship."

"You think so?" this time, despite Art's protests, you turn towards him: your breasts press against the boy's chest and his eyes fall down quickly before being brought back to yours by the hand under his chin. The tease is evident on your face and Art feels his ears warm up quickly to the realization of being caught in the act.

"I know so" and kisses the smile off your lips to distract you.

"My answer is not a no, but how do we know that our relationship is ready for this?" you ask him and, without realizing it, the agitation inside you rises: how did you know if you were ready for this step? and if you break up because you went too fast?

The tennis player frowns "what do you mean?" and the sight in front of you distracts you for a second: Art sits back against the back of the tub to stand more upright and listen to you better, his arms, after moving his curly damp hair out of his face, leans on the edges of the tub, his wet and smooth chest shines and his legs are open and bent to the sides to give you more space between them. If you weren't so determined to finish the topic you are having you'd kiss him to death, but you're a woman on a mission and you can't get distracted.

"I mean, some of my behaviors might irritate you or we might fight about serious things and then we wouldn't be able to run away from our problems by going back to our apartment, we'd have to deal with these situations and be mature about what bothers us and-"

"love, you're getting worked up over nothing" he says and his expression relaxes into a smile: now that he understood that your reasons are motivated only by insecurity and not by the fact that you don't want to take the next step with him, he feels it will be easier to convince you otherwise.

"You see? this is exactly what I'm talking about! if we move in together we can't belittle each other's feelings and concerns like this. It wouldn't be healthy and-"

"love," he interrupts you again, and your hands that were gesturing in the air fall on his chest, your eyes avoid his.

Out of your mouth comes a small "…yes?" that makes the man in front of you chuckle.

"we're ready" his calm tone makes its way into your chest "we're 24 years old and we've been together since we were 19, we both have a steady job and we already know everything about each other, there's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind".

"what if we fight?"

"I can't promise you we won't fight, we fight even now that we don't live together, but it seems to me that we are pretty good at making up, if we fight we will solve it as always" it's true, you never went beyond a day without talking to each other, even if you were angry.

"what if we break up?"

"It won't happen," he answers immediately, his fingers move the locks of hair behind your ears and then rest his hands on your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

His head lowers to chain your eyes together and you look up to facilitate his task "I won't let it happen", the security in his eyes makes you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes move around to look at the bathroom, "but I wouldn't be able to pay half the rent of this apartment"

"I don't care about that".

"but-"

"If you really want to pay something, we can split the bills," he answers hastily, at the moment Art doesn't care about how to split the expenses, he would pay everything if it meant he could spend the rest of his life next to you… he just needs your 'yes'.

Your face gets close to his, your lips a few inches away.

"okay" his eyes still fixed in yours

"'ok' what?" his smile gets brighter, he wants to hear you say it.

"I'll move in with you" you smile too.

"that's what I like to ear" he kisses you again.

Now he only has to ask you to marry him… but that will have to wait a little longer.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you guys will like it as much as I liked writing it! 🩷

(in this fic he still has long hair cause I said so)

[ncis-nerd]

Our Princess

princess reader x servants!wandanat

warnings: cheating, pevert wandanat, jealousy, innocence kink, smut, pet names, slight non-con, dubious consent, oral (r receiving), dom!wandanat.

marvel masterlist

They knew what they were doing from the first moment they laid eyes on you. Fuck you were so perfect, the way your eyes widen when you giggled. How your dress rode up when you were watching TV. How innocent you were.

Your first interaction was when the two ladies were cleaning up. Wanda was washing the dishes in the kitchen with her apron on, Natasha sweeping the floors. That's when you wandered in, barefooted in a pink nightgown.

"Oh! Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you guys!" you exclaimed, backing out of the kitchen. Natasha shot Wanda a smirk. Wanda met her gaze, they both were thinking the same thing- how fun messing with you would be.

Wanda bowed in your presence, "Don't mind us, princess." She purred. You, oblivious to their tactics, hummed in response. Making your way to a cabinet that was a bit too high for you. You stood on your tippy toes, your hand attempting to grasp the handle. In the process, your nightgown begins to ride up, giving the two women a view of your flowery underwear.

Fuck you looked so good like that, Natasha bit her lip. Wanda smacked Nat's arm, you were dating Maria and were their boss. You could ruin their lives with the flick of the wrist. But you were so addicting, they couldn't resist.

From that moment on, they'd try everything to be in your path but you suspected nothing. They were just trying their jobs, that's why you caught Wanda folding your underwear and Natasha sweeping the living room floor while you were trying to watch TV.

---

You hummed, reading a book in your little sundress. You were tanning in your backyard by the pool. Maria, your girlfriend, was coming over to hang out with you. The sun was particularly hot today so you figured why not spend the day outside.

You had sunglasses on, that protected your eyes and a towel draped over your chair. You couldn't wait to play with her in the pool. Maria is your girlfriend and she's the same age as you. You guys went to school together and Maria admitted her love for you so the logical thing to do was to get together. At first you were hesitant but not for the reasons Maria thought. No, it wasn't internal homophobia, it was the fact that you hadn't been with anyone before. But Maria didn't mind your lack of experience.

"Hey hun, your girlfriend is here." Natasha spoke, ratherly harshly but nonetheless drawing your attention. Wonder what must of gotten her upset.. Your eyes followed her as she went back into the house. The door opened behind her, your girlfriend came out.

"Mar!!!" You squealed, running into her arms. She smiled and picked you up, "Hey princess!!" She chuckled, carrying you bridal style, to the seats. "Missed you" you mumbled in her arms.

--

Wanda and Natasha watched from the windows. A feeling of jealousy sprang from this. It should be them out there with you. For you to run into Wanda's arms and Natasha to be the one carrying you.

For it to be their bodies against you, not that girl who couldn't care for you like they did. You needed real women to teach a delicate thing like you.

Natasha bit her lip as she watched Maria's hand rest on your ass. The way a innocent kiss from you, turned into Maria climbing onto of you. She began to leave kisses on your skin, marking you up. Maria looked up for a second, making eye contact with the two servants. She knew they were watching and was testing them. Daring them to try and stop this, to try and take her girl.

--

You whimpered softly, you couldn't believe this was happening. Maria straddled you and began to bite and suck on your skin, leaving hickeys all over you. "Mar, that hurts" you mumbled against her. "Let me have my way with you doll, I promise you'll be satisfied by the end." She pushed,

The two women watched this interaction and saw it unfold. The way you were pushing back against Maria, how she ignored your protests and just dismissed you. They had enough.

"Maria your parents called, they said it was an emgerncy and they need you home" Wanda spoke. Maria jumped off of y/n and hurried out after giving her a little peck on the forehead and a quick "goodbye".

--

After a moment of silence, Wanda made her way to you. You were sitting on the chair, your chest covered in marks from your girlfriend. A slight pout on your face. "What's the matter, dear?" Wanda cooed, Natasha coming up behind you with the same faux concern. "Yeah darling, what's got you all frowny? Hm?" Natasha hummed.

"Maria" you mumbled sadly, you didn't know why your girlfriend was suddenly acting like that. She said she'd take things slowly for you, but maybe it was going too slow for her liking.

"Awe, princess." Wanda whispered, stroking your back gently. "You know honey, we saw what happened. I think the problem is that you are such a delicate thing and your girlfriend doesn't understand that. A little thing liek you needs a real, mature woman fo help you navigate." She purred.

--

"I think she might be ready for us Wanda, this seems like the perfect timing." Natasha whispered in the hall, trying not to let you hear the conversation between the two of them. "I don't know Nat, she seems like she isn't interested. You saw how things went down with Maria. A simple kiss turned her off." Wanda protested.

--

Your face turned red, you were still thinking about what Natasha said earlier. How they'd treat you right, that you needed a mature woman teach you.

You began to feel an ache between your thighs. It was so wet and sticky, you didn't know what to do, so the only logical thing to do was to go ask the pair.

Your pillow bumps your clit as you make your way off your bed. You jolt in response, that feels weird but a good kind of weird. You attempt to gain that feeling back, of course not knowing what you're doing due to a lack of experience. Your hips rut against your pillow. You sigh gently, biting your lip to stiffle any sounds. A moan escapes your lips when suddenly you hear a voice hum in amusement.

You turn around to be greeted with Natasha's eyes which focused on the wet spot of your pillow and Wanda who was only smirking at you. Her eyes on your chest. Your nipples were hard and peeked through your thin tank top.

"H-How long have you been standing there?” you froze.

--

"Mhm" you cried out. Fuck, you looked so good like this, they just wanted to take you but they restricted themselves. A fragile little thing like you needs to be treated like a princess. Natasha's tongue circled your clit, your hips buckled against her. "She's so responsive." Natasha mumbled against you, the comment directed towards the other servant.

Wanda had you against her, your back to her front. She held your hips in place for Natasha. "There, there, it's okay princess. If it's too much just let me or Natty know" She whispered softly.

inspired by @esouliie

[gay-dorito-dust]

Batboys realizing how small their s/o is to the point they can fit in the cabinet or in a box like a cat. How would they react?

Bruce

Only looks at you with a raised brow the moment he opened the cupboard, only to discover that you managed you sweetie yourself in the small confided space with a blanket.

‘Is there a reason you’re hiding in the cupboard?’ He’d ask, believing there to be a logical explanation behind your actions.

You only shrugged as you smiled at him. ‘I just wanted to test if I was small enough to fit really, now I found a hiding spot incase an impromptu hide and seek game were to happen.’

‘An impromptu hide and seek game? My love who’d-‘

‘Stephanie or Dick.’ You cut him off as he could only chuckle at your ability to somehow integrate yourself in what the kids were doing so seamlessly it was almost adorable, no it was adorable because he was happy that you got along with the kids as though they were you’re own and giving them the memories they could look back on and smile.

‘While this is quite impressive, I wouldn’t want you to hurt your self coming out there.’ Bruce says as he holds his hand out to you and you quickly accepted, letting him pull you out just as little Steph ran past you both screaming;

‘HIDE AND SEEK! IM GOING TO COUNT TO TEN SND FIND YOU ALL!’

You quickly dropped Bruce’s hand, much to his dismay as he watched you, his partner, run back towards the cupboard you came out of and shove yourself into it before slamming the door shut as Stephie finished counting. Bruce smiled the moment he felt Stephen’s little hand touch his leg.

‘You didn’t try to hide.’ she pouts and he kneels down to ruffled her hair.

‘That’s because I want to help you find everyone before dinner is done.’ Bruce replied as he glanced towards the cupboard you were hiding in, feeling your glare of betrayal through the wood as he smirked, holding Stephanie’s hand as he easily helped her find everyone; everyone but you that was as he was saving you for last.

Dick

Almost screams when he sees you within his cupboard.

‘Sweetheart! Are you stuck? No you’re too short to be stuck-‘ dick muttered to himself, not knowing that you heard him loud and clear.

‘Thanks dickhead.’ You replied sarcastically as you looked at him, ‘while I might be short but at least I can fit into things that your acrobatic ass could only wish.’ You added as you goaded him.

Coming down from the initial scare of seeing you in his cupboard, making him internally wonder how long you’ve been doing this for, and hoped you didn’t see him sneak Hayley some more treats then necessary. However the moment he heard the taunting in your voice, his eyes shone with a little excitement and mischief as he leant towards you.

‘Are you sure about that? What makes you think I haven’t tried?’ He asks.

You shrug. ‘Jason said you tried it once when wanting to scare Bruce and got stuck.’ You answered and dick couldn’t help but curse Jason for letting you in on his biggest embarrassment. Dick crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, ‘well I’ve learned from the last time!’ He exclaimed but there was a sense of uncertainty in his they told you that he definitely didn’t leave from the last time. ‘Just watch me!’ Dick adds as he muscled his way onto the cupboard next to you.

You were quickly ditched your competitiveness and become worried the moment you heard dick whisper ‘oh shit’ under his breath. ‘Dick? What’s wrong?’ You asked, pressing your ear against the wood that separated you both. ‘I think I’m stuck sweetheart…’ dick mournfully answered as you sighed and grabbed your phone, punching in a familiar number at this point.

‘I’ll call Jason.’ You said.

‘Tell him to not tell anyone!’ Dick shouted, knowing how Jason would get if he saw him like this, much like he teased Tim with those robbers who kept trying to-and failing- to kidnap him. ‘I’ll be sure to make him promise or I’ll hide in his cupboard and scare him.’ You replied as you pressed your phone to you ear, waiting for Jason to pick up.

‘Thanks honey.’ Dick murmured.

Jason

‘Shit.’ Jason cured the moment he found your hiding spot.

‘Language jay bird.’ You replied.

‘You scared the shit out of my chipmunk,’ Jason exclaimed before wildly gesturing to the cupboard that you had somehow stuffed yourself in, ‘how did you managed to get yourself in there in the first place?’ He asked and you shrugged. ‘I’m small’ was your explanation.

‘I know that but when did hiding in cupboards started becoming your thing?’ Jason continued to ask, still not grasping how you would want to spend time in a small, claustrophobic cupboard, the logic wasn’t coming to him and therefore you went beyond logic with your actions also.

‘Since this week?’ You said as you tried to think back to when you started doing this, but nothing was coming up, it was almost as if hiding in small spaces without letting others be aware of this habit was something you just did out of impulse. ‘I dunno but I’ve got to entertain myself when you go off on patrol.’ You groaned as Jason placed his hands on his hips.

‘Oh yeah? Well you’re coming out of the cupboard and we’ll go do something together because I swear if you do that to me again, I think I might pass away…again.’ Jason retorted as you let him grab you by the waist and pull you out of the cupboard, holding you close to his chest as he smothered kisses across your face and neck.

‘Alright! Alright! I won’t scare you again but can we at least cuddle?’ You pleaded with him as you batted your eyelashes at him, making his interior crumble as Jason can’t say no to you no matter what and no one knew this more then himself. ‘Fine,’ Jason smiled softly at you as he held you close, ‘since you asked so nicely and maybe I’ll let you sleep under my hoodie tonight. How does that sound?’

You hummed as you cuddled into your favourite person in Gotham, clinging onto him like a koala bear. ‘That sounds perfect but anything with you is perfect as it is.’ Jason kissed your forehead. ‘Im glad you agree my little cupboard climber.’

You groan. ‘That is not becoming my new nickname.’

‘Why not I like it?’ Jason defends.

‘Well it lacks severely in the creativity department my jay bird.’ You tell him as he brought you both to the bedroom.

‘I’ll try again tomorrow.’

Damian

Only stares at you as though you grew a second head.

‘Hi dami!’ You greeted as though sitting in a box was the most normal thing that could’ve happened to anyone.

‘My treasure, I’m aware you’re of the shorter stature but this is something else entirely for what purpose does it serve.’ Damian asked as he tried to find it was even possible for someone to do what you did, if anything he would probably see it as a challenge to also somehow fit himself into something ridiculously small.

He almost lost his mind when he couldn’t see you and so to find that you had been here the entity, while relaxed him, only made him feel a little stupefied. He thought you had gotten kidnapped or worse!

‘A quick hideaway, that and something to hold over dicks head because he maybe flexible, but can he fit in a small box? I don’t think so.’ You taunted as you smiled to yourself, already seeing the look up dick’s face when he realises that you bested him in something.

Damian sighed as he kissed your head. ‘You sure can be a handful my dear but I wouldn’t want you any other way.’ He says as you smiled in response, pushing your head further against his lips as you felt accomplished in more ways then one.

‘Thank you dami.’ You said softly as you reached out and held his hand, allowing him to pull you out of the box and into his arms, where you closed your eyes and smiled.

‘You almost scared me my beloved.’ Damian admitted, ‘I thought you were taken.’ He adds as. You tightened your hold on him, giving him reassuring back rubs as you allowed him to cling to you for however long he desired.

‘I’m right here dami, I’m right here.’

[qlossytbh]

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨) - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 after the events that had occurred earlier during the day, you found yourself hot and bothered and seeking help from the person you least expected you would

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 +18 mdni, enemies to lovers (kinda), rivals who fuck eachother ig! , fem!reader, oral (f!recieving), munch!spencer, horny awkward mfs, nothing else i guess

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 as promised a part two ;) this is not proofread and I desperately wanted to post something so I just rushed this out. they were gonna p in v, but i got lazy and i gave up, so enjoy munch spencer whom i am in love with.

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

There could be hundreds, thousands of reasons why this was a stupid idea— an incredibly stupid idea

You couldn't sleep. The buzzing anxiety had been coursing throughout every muscle in your body. All you could do was stare at the roof, pulling the sheets over your body and moving around restlessly.

But now, your feet dragged you towards the door to Spencers room, and if you were given a few more seconds you promised those reasons would come up— any second now.

You hugged your body, trying to drag out the cold air that hit your bare arms and awakened a raging string of goosebumps across your skin.

You swore that you had tried to get some sleep, you really did. Unfortunately, your own body was working against you because the only thing you could focus on was the very person you swore you hated.

The stupid stunt Spencer pulled earlier was now giving you side effects. Your body physically ached as you became reminiscent of that afternoons events.

The gentleness but urgent way in which his lips felt grazing and nipping yours, leaving you mushy beneath his touch. How his hands felt, pulling and gripping at your body in just the right places. You remembered how his smell infected you almost immediately, the way his hair felt beneath your fingertips— it was all too much.

So of course, the only way you knew how to deal with the increasingly aching feeling in your body was appearing at his hotel room door at three in the morning— now that was logical.

You really didn't grasp the reality of what you were doing until you stood in front of his door, debating wether or wether not to knock. Your fist hovered above the door, until you'd get second thoughts and apprehend your knuckles from the door, before hovering over it over the door once again, and so on.

You inhaled deeply, trying to calm the nerves that bundled up inside of you. You ran a frustrated hand through your hair. God, this was stupid.

Just as you raised your hand a final time to knock, the door flew open and you froze.

Behind the other side, was Spencer, hair tousled and eyes heavy with stress. When you made eye contact with him, at first you felt a jolt of electricity zap your spine, but then you quickly felt massively embarrassed.

He too, looked as if he had just been caught red handed. Which, in reality, he had been given since he was about to make his way over to your hotel door, seemingly under distress for the same reason you were.

"I, uh—" You started. What was it even like to have a conversation with him? All you knew how to do was taunt him.

Spencer's lips parted softly and you couldn't resist dropping your gaze to them. You felt out of control and you hated it. The two of you stood there, immobile, unable to do anything.

"You, uhm—" Spencer started, reaching to rub the back of his neck. "Are you not cold?"

You furrowed your brows, looking down at yourself seeing that your skin had been covered in goosebumps. The small shorts and tank top were not doing you any favors in keeping your body warm. Your face flushed with embarrassment.

"Obviously," You bit back. He pulled his lips into a tight line and nodded. Your eyes screwed shut and you slapped your hands across your face, covering it and groaning into your palms.

"I hate you." You stated. Spencer cocked a brow upward.

"I'm trying to sleep and because of that stunt you pulled earlier today— I can't."

"You, cant." He repeated as of trying to piece together why you were actually at the door of his hotel room.

"Yes! I can't—" Your voice was tense, choked. Spencer shifted, opening the door a little wider.

"I can't either," He butted. You clamped your mouth shut and stared at him, blushing furiously. You hated how out of control you felt of your body right now— how it seemed to be responding before you were.

You had to force yourself to pull away, feeling your body ache as you pushed at his chest, ensuring some distance was put between the two of you.

Spencer's hands remained on your waist as he watched you closely. You avoided his gaze, focusing only on the floor since you found it incredibly hard not to immediately cave just at the slightest glimpse of how darkened his eyes had gotten.

So when you looked up, we're you entirely surprised that you pulled him by his collar and smashed your lips onto his yet again? No.

"We really should stop," You managed to mummer between heated kisses. The airiness in your voice was doing horrible things to Spencer and he was finding it incredibly hard to keep himself stable. 

"Yeah," He muttered back, persisting his attack on your lips. You pulled him by the collar of his shirt as close as you physically could, breathing in every single aspect of him.

None of you made a single effort to stop.

You didn't know how the two of you ended up in this position— actually, that was a lie. You did.

A few minutes ago you were at Spencer Reid's door— and now you were inside his room, doing things you never even thought you'd associate doing with Spencer Reid.

Not that you were complaining or anything.

Just thinking back on what had happened at the campus wasn't helping the burning sensation that settled in the pool of your stomach.

All you could focus on was how Spencer's hands felt gripping you, how his lips felt kissing you. It's like he had suddenly intoxicated you and there was no use at figuring out how to get rid of him.

You preferred it when he annoyed you in other ways, not sexually. Because when it was other ways you knew how to ease the frustration— This was harder to manage.

Spencer found himself in probably the same exact state as you which didn't make matters easier for any of you.  That's probably why the two of you ended up in such a predicament.

You pulled his waist onto yours and you were delighted to feel how hard he was against you. A deeper desperation began to pool at the pit of your stomach, one that needed him closer and one that desperately needed to feel release.

"I-I didn't—" You panted as Spencer pulled away, dipping his head into your neck. He nipped and kissed every single angle until he found the spot beneath your ear that caused you to become putty in his arms. "I didn't take you for the jealous type."

His hands dipped underneath your shirt, letting his hands roam across your sides. The contrast of his warm hands with your cold skin caused you to shutter. "I'm not jealous."

He kissed along your jaw and then began planting kisses across your chest and neck. You found yourself scoffing. "T-then why did you— fuck."

There was a desperate yet gentle feeling underneath Spencer's touches. All of it felt rushed, but so soft and tender in a way that had your head spinning. It was incomprehensible to you how someone you thought hated you so profusely was so gentle and eager to touch you.

Even more incomprehensible how someone you thought you hated so much had such an effect on your body.

“Some— Someone who isn’t jealous—“ Spencer urged you backward until your ass bumped against the corner of the hotel bed behind you. The way your body responded immediately to him was almost too lascivious. “Wouldn’t react the way you did earlier today—“

You involuntarily rolled your hips against his, begging for some sort of friction. Spencer responded with a groan as his body felt as if it was on fire. The strain in his pants was becoming harder to live with by the second, especially when you kept rolling your own hips over his.

“Shut up,��� He made his way back to your mouth, kissing it feverishly, as if drunk off of just the taste of you. You hummed finding it quickly transition to a whine as Spencer pushed you to sit on the corner of the bed.

"I still don't like you," You stated, feeling the need to clarify. Spencer pulled back, scanning your dark eyes and disheveled hair, and found your words amusing.

"So why were you at my door?" You resisted, groaning as he kissed the corner of your jaw in a feathery light manner that had you close to combusting.

"You do not get to go all smug with me." He peered up at you, with that same overly cocky and competent glint in his eyes. You felt yourself growing hotter, and more frustrated and it was starting to become unbearable.

"Tell me why," His tone was genuinely curious. He placed a kiss on your chest and pushed your tank top up, allowing his lips to connect with the exposed skin of your stomach as he began making his way down.

Your breath hitched immediately, but yet again how could you complain? He looked so desperate, a look that resembled that of a need, like this was something he desperately needed or else he might actually combust. You didn't look much better. Your eyes were practically begging him to do anything, touch you and feel you anywhere.

"Tell you what?" You clenched your jaw as he kissed down your leg while propping himself onto his knees in front of you— a sight that you found yourself falling in love with immediately.

"You said you hated me earlier," His hand gently guided you to place you foot on his shoulder. You were apprehensive at first, but with one kiss on your inner thigh you soon found your worries fading away. "I want to know why."

"F-For starters—" You shuddered a breath as he kissed closer towards your center. "You're insufferably annoying,"

"Mhm," He hummed. His fingers hooked beneath the straps of your shorts and panties, helping you lift your hips and pulling them down past your legs.

"I think it's stupid how you're always using big colloquial—" You let out a groan as he kissed you right beside your most sensitive part. "Words— ah,"

Your voice died beneath a moan as he finally place a featherlight kiss right onto the center of your clit.

"What else?" His voice sounded smug and you despised it.

"Y-you—" There was another kiss right onto your clit only this time, he didn't skip out on letting his tongue linger just a little longer. The words died in your throat and you could tell he was doing it on purpose. "Fuck,"

As infuriating as it was though, his persistent teasing, you truthfully couldn't bring yourself to care.

Spencer began slowly teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, circling patterns around the sensitive bud. You threw your head back with a moan as your whole body responded to him. He continued, wanting nothing more than to hear that specific sound you made over and over again.

You allowed yourself to look down at him, jaw slack as you followed his movements carefully. It was hard to be annoyed at him when he looked so incredibly good between your legs.

Your fingers threaded themselves into his hair, scratching at his scalp. The touch emitted a hum from his throat, which added vibrations against your clit. A mix between a gasp and a moan left your lips and it sounded like heaven to Spencer.

He wanted nothing more than to hear every variation of lewd sounds you could possible make and he wanted to map and learn what caused each and everyone of them. So with that, he took your sensitive bud between his lips and sucked gently.

Your jaw slacked even more as his lips moved against your clit mercifully. His tongue varied from traveling all across your cunt, learning it's way and figuring out which spots caused you to squirm the most.

The noises you were making were close to pornagraphic and you worried somebody might overhear. Then again, you were almost positive that no one else in the team was staying anywhere close to this room number, so you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You felt your legs start to shake slightly and once you took notice of the tightness in your lower belly you knew it wouldn’t be long until you reached your climax— not if he kept up like this.

"Spence," Your lips involuntarily let out the familiar nickname and something inside Spencer shifted.

He had never heard you call him anything other than his last name, maybe Spencer if he was very lucky. But hearing you not only use that nickname— but moan it, gave him the scary realization that he was more induced than he thought in whatever spell you had him under.

He sucked on your clit just a little bit harsher and you squirmed under his grip, knees giving in on yourself. When you moved to clamp your thighs shut Spencer used his hands to grip at your knees, preventing you from lessening his access.

Your back arched into him, suddenly feeling your vision buzzing as you audibly whined at his touch. “I’m gonna cum,”

Spencer hummed and that was enough for your body to crumble under your climax. Your head fell back with a loud moan, toes curling under the ecstasy of your high.

Your chest heaved, slowly coming down from your peak as Spencer made his way back up to you, setting a few kisses onto different spots of your body.

Every nerve on your body was tingly to his touch. He looked at you, smiling at the sight of your lightly flushed cheeks and half hooded eyes. He reached up, tucking a few flyaway strands of hair behind you ear.

Spencer opened his mouth to say something but quickly clamped it close. You looked at him and he found no traces of your usual grouchy glare. He liked this look on you a whole lot more.

“Say it,” You whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek as you tried to catch your breath.

“Hmm?”

“You we’re going to say something but you refrained from doing so,” You breathed finally opening your eyes and staring deep into his, noticing his . “Say it,”

Spencer hesitated, scanning you over once more. It was as if he was trying to memorize every single crease and freckle on your face, savoring how unreal you looked up close.

“You look pretty.” He whispered, suddenly scared of his own words. Your heart throbbed, along with the sudden need to have him inside of you.

See this is where things for you became confusing. How is it that before, you thought you could swear on any higher power that all Spencer Reid could do was piss the living shit out of you. But now, there was this confusing, light airy feeling that infested every fragment of your being— You could just blame the endorphins that came from the sex, maybe tomorrow you’d go back to being sure that you hated him.

But now—

You cupped Spencer’s cheeks and pulled his lips onto yours, sighing at the feeling you had suddenly grown awfully familiar to. He pushed you back onto the bed, hovering over you until your back was propped against the wrinkled pillows of his bed.

Your kissing once again became frantic as you pulled at the hem of his shirt. He happily obliged with pulling it over his head, leaving you all the room to roam your hands across his bare torso.

Your lips clashed in a hurried frenzy as that familiar buzzing heat began pooling in your belly again. You didn’t even want to know what Spencer was going through, given since he hasn’t been given a release since you got there.

Your legs wrapped around his lower body, pushing his hardness onto you and rolling your hips harshly. He hissed, groaning into your mouth. “Fuck—“

“Spencer,” You started, apprehensive as to wether or wether not what you wanted to say next was the smartest thing for your own ego.

“Hmm?” He kissed your jaw.

“Is it weird that right now I can’t seem to think of a single reason as to why I dislike you?”

“Not a single one?”

“Don’t push it.” You glared at him as he guided down onto the bed, hovering carefully over you.

Let’s just say it was a long night. One Derek and Emily unfortunately caught on too and teased the absolute shit out of you.

Again— You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

this sucks

[littlexdeaths]

strange love - s.h.

king steve harrington x loser fem reader

everybody wants to know, if we fucked on the bathroom sink…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: underage drinking (everyone is 18+), mean!dom steve, steve is a major asshole, public sex, light degradation kink, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, steve makes reader cry, some good ole’ angst

a/n: this is a reworking of my first steeb fic i ever wrote on my old account. i hope you enjoy xx. and thank you to @stveharringtn for looking this over and hyping me up. ily cherry 💕

based on strange love by halsey

word count: 2.4k

You shouldn’t have come to this stupid party.

And you wouldn’t have, if Steve hadn’t practically begged you to make an appearance. It was only going to lead to more heartbreak for you, having to watch him flirt with every girl in the room. The night would end with you going home alone, wondering why you weren’t good enough to be on his arm.

Despite all that you go anyway, your heart severely outweighing the logical side of your brain. You even made sure to wear your best dress, hoping it would capture his attention. But the male didn’t glance your way the entire night, and you felt utterly defeated.

Why you didn’t leave after an hour of being ignored is beyond you, a small part of you still holding out hope. Leaning against a wall in the hallway you watch with disdain as your classmates drunkenly grind on each other. It was one of the last parties of the summer before college classes started, and everyone seemed to be making the most of it.

Everyone except for you.

“This was a stupid idea,” you mumble to yourself, glancing down at your drink with a deep sigh.

Swirling the now lukewarm beer around in your cup, no longer interested in people watching. Drunken laughter pulls you from your sulking, watching in utter annoyance as Tommy attempts a keg stand in the middle of the living room.

A large crowd has surrounded him, giving you the perfect opportunity to find Jonathan and leave.

However, feeling a piece of paper being slipped into your hand stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes searching for the source of the note. A familiar flutter starts in your lower belly as you catch sight of him, the male now halfway up the stairs. You quickly unravel the crumpled page to find a few words written in his messy script.

You immediately crumple the note in your palm, downing the rest of your beer before you make your way up to the second floor. Despite the large and somewhat confusing layout, you navigated the dark halls with ease. As you knew the male's house far too well now, having found yourself in his bed more times than you liked to admit.

This wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it was only meant to be a one time thing. To get back at your cheating asshole of an ex-boyfriend, Troy. After finding him tangled in the sheets with Vicki Carmichael at a party quite similar to this one. All because you weren’t ready to have sex with him. As much as it stung, a bigger part of you was incredibly relieved.

Something never fully cliqued with him, and deep down you didn’t want him to be your first. Troy and Steve were very good friends, and played basketball together. So it seemed fitting to ask Steve to be the one to take your virginity. Telling yourself it would royally piss Troy off, knowing you’d give it up to Steve and not him. But the truth is you’d always secretly had a thing for Steve for years.

That was your real reason, not that you’d ever admit it.

Steve was more than happy to fulfill your wish, not knowing your motive behind it. But what neither of you expected was that he would keep coming back for more. Once he had a taste of you, he couldn’t get enough. You had him wrapped around your finger, without even realizing it. However you both made a promise to keep the whole thing a secret, any plans of revenge now being thrown out the window.

Now that you weren’t dating Troy you had gone back to your quiet loser status, which you much preferred anyway. But Steve couldn’t have that ruining his reputation, so instead of arguing you went along with it. Agreeing to a secret friend with benefits relationship, despite knowing you’d want more. Feelings aside it didn’t stop you from hooking up with him multiple times a week, which brings you back to the present.

Your breathing was labored, partially due to the hand covering your mouth. You could hear the bass of the music from outside the bathroom door, so there was no need to be extra quiet.

But with Steve it was a necessity… especially in such a public place. Where anyone could press their ear to the door and figure out what was happening.

You found yourself bent over the bathroom sink, Steve fucking into you with such a ferocity it made your knees wobble. He had barely let the bathroom door shut before he was on you, tugging your panties down your legs. Tugging his shirt over his head, not bothering to take off his jeans in his impatience to have you.

“God, you’re such a little tease you know that? Wearing this fucking dress, getting me all worked up.” He growled in your ear, whimpering against his hand as he pounds into your soaked heat.

The male is gripping your hip so hard you know he’ll leave bruises behind, but the harsh action only turns you on more. Knowing how desperate he was to have you, made you putty in his strong hands. Your own hand drifts between your thighs, finding your bundle of nerves and encircling it with your fingertips.

Glancing into the mirror in front of you, you watch his face as he continues to ram himself inside you. His honey brown hair sticks to his forehead, no longer styled in the perfect swoop he had it in before you entered the bathroom. His dark eyes meet yours in the reflection, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watches you intensely.

“Hm, look at how pathetic you look honey… letting me use you like a whore.” He grunts, leaning in closer and tugging on your earlobe with his teeth, “But you like that don’t you? You like being my whore?”

You find yourself nodding, unable to speak. Partially due to the hand still covering your mouth, but you knew even if it wasn't there it wouldn’t have made much difference. The male had fucked any logical thoughts from you at that point.

But you can’t deny the way your body reacts to his words, your walls tightening around him at the mere mention of belonging to him… and him alone. Something Steve doesn’t miss either.

“That’s cute, baby…” he chuckles, letting his lips graze along the exposed skin of your throat. “Glad she knows exactly who she belongs to.”

Tears of pleasure blur your vision, mascara streaming freely down your cheeks. Your fucked out reflection stares back at you as he continues to pound into you from behind. Hooded eyes drift to gaze at him once more, seeing how his mouth falls open in a moan as you continue to pulse around his cock.

His sun kissed skin was beautifully flushed, his days spent as a lifeguard at Hawkin’s community pool were treating him extremely well. It made you want nothing more than to leave a trail of dark bruises along his freckled neck— effectively marking him as yours.

But you knew that couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t allow it. His reputation as the town’s local biggest player was far more important to him than you could ever be. At least that’s what he wanted you to believe.

You watch in awe as his head tilts back, exposing more of his throat to you. His adam’s apple bobs as he moans, fighting the urge to push him against the wall and taste the sweat that’s coating his skin in a glossy sheen.

Steve just looked so pretty like this, on the edge of release. While you had witnessed it many times now— part of you still was so mesmerized by him.

You can feel your orgasm bubbling up inside you, continuing to rub your clit faster. You cry out against his hand, the whimper of his name now muffled by his palm. Your eyes nearly roll back as your orgasm crashes over you. But Steve doesn’t let up his pace, your knees almost buckling as he fucks into you harder.

“I know you can cum harder than that honey, do. it. again.” He growls lowly in your ear, dropping his hand away from your mouth.

Quickly knocking your own out of the way to continue rubbing your overly sensitive clit. You’d barely come down from your first high before he had you hurtling towards another one, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with acute precision.

Your eyes meet once more in the reflection, a cocky expression crosses over his features as you feel yourself falling over the edge again. Gripping the counter with both hands, biting down harshly on your lower lip to stop the scream that wants to escape your lungs.

In your euphoric state you don’t notice the way Steve’s eyes watch you possessively, pride filling his chest knowing he’s the only man who has ever seen you like this. The only man to ever make you feel this way, and he planned on keeping it that way. Selfish as it was.

The blissed out look on your face is the thing that finally breaks what little composure he had left. The male burying his face in the crook of your neck as he paints your inner walls with his release. Stilling his hips at your deepest point, in an attempt to keep his cum buried inside you.

Steve’s secret way of marking you as his.

As both of you attempt to catch your breath, the sounds of the party carry on as if nothing happened. When Steve finally releases your hips, you grip tighter onto the counter to support yourself. Knowing your knees were far too wobbly to keep you upright. A soft whimper leaves your lips as he slides out of you, suddenly feeling empty. In more ways than one.

The male is quick to tuck himself back into his jeans, roughly pulling your panties up your legs. You can feel his cum beginning to pool in the lacy material, the dirtiness of it makes your body feel hot. You let out a shaky breath, turning to face him as he finishes tucking his polo back into his levi’s.

“Wait a few minutes before you come back downstairs, yeah?” Is all he says before he’s slipping out of the bathroom, running a hand through his tousled locks.

The door closes softly, and that familiar feeling of shame washes over you again. You shouldn’t be surprised by it at this point, as your little hookups always ended the same way.

With Steve thoroughly pleased with himself, and you all alone.

You can’t stop the moisture from flooding your vision, carefully sitting down on the edge of the tub. Gripping the hem of your dress in your fists as you ruin whatever makeup was still left behind. Shoulders shaking as silent sobs rack through your chest.

In that moment you made a promise to yourself, you wouldn’t let any man— especially someone like Steve fucking Harrington make you feel this way again. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

You continue to let the traitor tears fall for a while before returning to your feet. Glancing back in the mirror you barely recognized yourself, your usual bright eyes were dull, bloodshot and puffy. The little makeup you had done was now smeared across your cheeks. With a frustrated sigh you attempt to collect yourself before returning to the party.

Cleaning the black streaks from your face, adjusting your rumpled dress until you looked somewhat presentable. Taking a deep breath you finally leave the safety of the bathroom, descending the carpeted stairs on shaky legs. No one pays you any mind as you make your way back into the sea of people.

But what you find in the living room feels like a punch straight to the gut.

Steve is on the couch, another girl already straddling his lap with her tongue down his throat. His large hands that were previously gripping onto your hips were now splayed across her bare thighs. Inching higher and higher up as she tangles her fingers in his hair. You can only stand to watch for a moment longer before bolting out of the room and into the kitchen in search of another drink.

Thankfully the room was almost empty, except for a familiar brunette who was sipping on a can of Pepsi. You don’t say anything to him, grabbing an open bottle of vodka off the counter and bringing the rim to your lips. Enjoying the familiar burn as you greedily gulp down the clear liquid at an alarming fast rate.

Jonathan looks at you concerned, immediately rushing to your side in an attempt to grab the bottle from you. You quickly dodge him, shoving him away with a dirty look.

“Jonny stop! I’m having fun, see?” You roll your eyes before dramatically taking another large swig. Your best friend had seen you drink plenty of times before, but never like this. He knew you well enough to know there was clearly something wrong.

Before you can go back in for another drink he grips onto the base of the bottle, wrestling it from you with a grimace. Before slamming it back onto the counter, making you wince slightly at the sound of the impact.

“That’s enough now. I think I should take you home.”

His tone is stern, but laced with worry. You find yourself pouting in response, a small hiccup leaving you as he sighs. The only reason Jonathan was even here in the first place was to be your ride, he hated these parties. And he especially hated Steve Harrington.

But he was your best friend, and he would’ve done anything for you. And right now anything consists of getting you home before you do something stupid, “Fine dad… take me home then.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes at your childish behavior before wrapping his arm around your waist to help guide you through the house to the front door. The vodka you had just chugged was definitely starting to take effect, as you stumbled alongside him. Now suddenly a lot more grateful for his help.

What you don’t notice in your tipsy state was a pair of honey eyes watching you both from across the room, jaw clenched in jealousy as Jonathan helps you out into the warm summer night.

[devilenchantress]

𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩

🪵Pairing —> Logan Howlett x Reader

🪵Genre —> Fluff & comfort

🪵 Warning —> Overthinking & anxiety (I got  inspired by my own anxiety and intrusive thoughts when it comes to relationships. I hope that some people will be able to relate to it and find comfort with this story 🫶🏻).

🪵Summary —> You haven’t heard from Logan all day and when he goes to sleep things aren’t as usual. You own thoughts and anxiety consumes you, so you confront him about it.

🪵Dividers Credit —> @moosgraphics

It was the end of the day at the mansion, Y/N spent the whole day outside with the children to help them with their powers. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a very good idea as the sun had been burning for quite a few days now. The heat, both outside and inside of the manor was unbearable.

Y/N went happily inside and rushed to her room to take a very well deserved cold shower and all she could think about was Logan.

The last time she saw him was this morning, when they woke up in bed which never happened before. In general her and Logan always found time to see each other, but not today.

Unfortunately, Y/N’s mind had been rushing all day about this, she couldn’t stop thinking :

« What if I did something wrong? » « What if he’s bored? » « What if I annoy him? » « What if our relationship is too much? »

All of these thoughts kept rushing through her mind the whole day. She just wanted to go to sleep and see him. That’s the only thing that could reassure her and show her that he’s not bored by her and that there’s a complete logical reason to why Logan did not come to her today. She got out of her shower, changed and went in her bed with a book, waiting for Logan.

A few hours later, Logan came back to the room and saw a very much asleep Y/N, so he tried to be silent and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

After closing the door of the bathroom Y/N woke up to the sound, she heard the water running and realized that Logan was here, but, instead of staying up to greet him she pretended to be asleep to see how he would act towards her :

« Would he come to her by himself? Would he cuddle to her by himself? Or would he let her alone on her side of her bed? »

Again, it was her overthinking controlling her and her thoughts, but she wanted to know, she needed to know.

After a few minutes Logan went out of the bathroom, shirtless with only his pants. He saw that Y/N fell asleep with her book in her hand, as usual. He chuckled softly, he always found it cute how she always tries to read before going to sleep, sometimes to wait for him, but always ends up falling asleep. So he came close to her, took the book, marked the page and put it on her nightstand.

Then he caressed her cheek and put some of her hair behind her ear, kissed forehead and said :

« Sleep well my princess. »

He then got up and went to sleep on his side of the bed.

Y/N was confused and thought :

« He kisses me goodbye but he doesn’t cuddle, why? We always cuddle til we fall asleep. »

Her thoughts were racing again and so she sat on the bed and said :

« Okay what’s wrong with you today? »

Logan was confused and said :

« You’re awake? Did I wake you up? »

and she said :

« Well yes, I mean no, I just heard you but that’s not the point Logan, what is going on? »

Logan was still confused and said :

« What do you mean what is going on babe? »

and she continued :

« Well why are you so weird today? We only saw each other early this morning, before going to our respective tasks but then nothing all day. We always find time to see each other but today I didn’t hear from you at all. Then you come to sleep and you don’t even cuddle? We always cuddle, that’s how we fall asleep. I just don’t understand, did I do something? Or is our relationship too much? »

« Woah woah woah calm down slowly babe, nothing happened I promise. I wasn’t able to see you today because that asshole of Scott didn’t want us to leave the training room until all the student learned good self-defense.

The guy was on edge, I tried to leave but I couldn’t even for lunch he did not let anyone leave. I argued with him about it because I wanted to see my girl but then they all complained about my behavior saying I should be more serious about work so I stayed.

Regarding tonight, I didn’t cuddle with you because this morning you told me that last night you had a lot of trouble to fall asleep because of the heat, and I’m well aware of my body. I know how warm my skin feels so I didn’t want to put all that heat all over you, knowing that the temperatures are already very high. I just wanted you to have a nice sleep princess. »

He said while looking at her softly.

Y/N looked at hi, feeling so stupid and just said :

« Oh… I thought… I thought you had something against me I’m so sorry. My thoughts they were racing and I got terrified because, well, it’s the first time that things were not as usual and so I just thought that something might be wrong. »

Logan took her hand ans said :

« Hey hey it’s okay, there’s nothing to apologies for, whatever is going on inside that little head of yours is okay. You can just talk to me about it and it’ll be alright. You’re feeling better now? Reassured? »

Y/N melted at how understanding and soft he was towards her and said :

« Yes I am, thank you love. But, by the way, no matter how warm it is. I’d rather be all sweaty and cuddle with you than lay down on my own on the other side of the bed. »

Logan chucked and put his arm behind her shoulder « come here princess » he said, so that her head could rest on his torso.

So they fell asleep, all sweaty and cuddling.

[rizsu]

euphoria ? suna rintarō.

sum. labeled, but sfw. arguments, suna cries, angst -> comfort.

rintarō isn't one to let his anger dominate him; rather, he tries his best to keep his emotions at bay. however, there's only so much someone can take before exploding. high octaves of a once calm voice bounces off the walls, it takes both by shock. rintarō stops, his eyes bulging when he realizes what happened.

fuck, he thinks. he didn't mean to. swallowing the burning sensation of guilt, he steps forward. countless apologies flow from his lips, clammy hands trying to reach you in attempts of a hug. you're still shocked. numb to your feet, your mind replays the scene. it hurts. it really hurts. you didn't mean for it to turn out like this.

from a simple worry to nagging to spitting out meaningless words of anger. it never meant to escalate like that; nothing was supposed to turn the way it did. hurt, anger, jealousy, and sadness. he knew your words came from concern, but he was already irritated—annoyed in a way that he just wanted to be locked in a quiet room. both parties letting their words go before logic; nothing was meant to turn this way.

“i think...i think i'll go upstairs. please don't come.” y/n mumbled, pain evident in her voice. as your figure ascends into the upper floor, rintarō slouches back into the couch. a heavy sigh fills the room; regret and guilt seeps into his pores, eating him alive.

i'm a fucking ass, he thinks again.

rintarō laughs. he drags his palms over his face, stopping at his eyes before he laughs again. it's funny, really. did he really have to lash out like that? rintarō promised he'll never hurt you. he'd never ever hurt you, but can that promise still hold meaning even after this? physically, he didn't. mentally and internally? the tremble of your voice said more than enough.

the more his mind repeats what happened like a broken record, the more tears well up in his eyes. they threaten him. they laugh at him. the salty liquid mocks him—it's almost as if it's saying, “ha! you're an idiot!” 

he swallows hard, trying so hard not to let his voice be heard. he doesn't want to cry but fuck, it hurts so much. when the dam swells until it bursts, floods occur. and so he let it go. the tears race down the sides of his face. he covers his mouth with one hand, biting hard in attempts not to make a sound.

it's been a few hours. each in their own space, trying to soften the pain that invited itself. no one tried speaking to another—the fight lingers fresh in both minds. rintarō's on the edge; he's itching to be in your presence. to hold you. to kiss you. 

five minutes turn into ten, which turned into twenty, and he's still there. still behind the door that separates him from you, hesitating to turn the knob. his hand shakes—he's nervous..? anxious? afraid you'd ask him to leave you alone? hell, he doesn't know.

rintarō didn't know he was in his head until the door opened on your side. he gapes at you, eyes searching for something.

“rin—” you start but he continued, “i'm sorry.”

he notes the confusion riddled on your face but he continues on.

“i'm sorry, love.” he says, hands holding yours as he looks down biting his lips. he's ashamed to face you.

“rintarō,” you tighten your grip on his hand, “let's sit down.” you instruct and he obeys, chewing on his bottom lip as a distraction.

rintarō's eyes linger on you. he observes your face, your behaviour, your tired eyes that show clear evidence of countless hours of crying. his heart hurts. he never thought he'd be the reason you're crying tears of sadness. never did he ever want to make you cry like that.

“you've been crying.”

“yeah, you too huh? i'm sorry, rin.”

at your apology he freezes. you're sorry? why are you apologizing? he's the one who lost control so why the fuck are you apologizing?

rintarō laughs again. he's been acting like a real fool hasn't he? having a wife who apologises for her husband's inconsiderate actions.

“don't. don't do that. don't apologise.”

“but—”

“please,” he begged. pushing you both down onto the bed, rintarō holds you above him. one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other rubs your shoulder, he continues his speech, “i didn't mean to—i didn't mean to yell like that. i don't know what i'd do if you left.”

you play with the hem of his shirt waiting for him to finish.

he let out a ragged breath before continuing, “i don't like it when you're hurt. this is gonna sound corny but i hate it when you cry too.”

you wait again but he doesn't continue like before. confused you look up at him only to furrow your eyebrows while your eyes wash over with concern. is he trying to not cry? you think.

yeah, he's crying again. small droplets trickle down his face once more as he sucks in his cheeks trying to not make a sound.

“rin.” he doesn't answer.

“suna rin.” he hums quietly but it's not the answer you want.

“suna rintarō.” there, he answers.

your heart shreds. hearing his voice like this was as rare as a red moon; you hate it. you hate how he never allows himself to cry. he's human isn't he? so why's he acting as though he's a machine.

you sit up on his lower half, cupping his face forcing him to look at you.

“we both did our wrongs so why are you behaving like you committed a first degree crime?” you ask though you aren't looking for an answer.

he stays quiet. eyes lost deep in yours as he waits for your words again.

“yes it did hurt, but that doesn't mean i'll throw away your love doesn't it? i know better than to divorce you for this argument, rin. we've been together for years.”

your fingers start to caress his cheek—some even tracing his face's outline. rintarō's hands find refuge on your waist, he holds and plays with your skin.

“i love you, rin. i'll tell you over and over until you know it.”

“i know.”

“then act like you know, boy.”

he laughs for the fifth time today, but it's no longer a laugh of disbelief, no. it's a laugh of joy. it's a breathy laugh that makes his eyes crinkle.

he sits up, pulling you into a hug as he lowers his head into the junction of your neck and shoulders. a smile finally dawns both faces.

after long hours anger says goodbye as love enters the house. what a day, you both think.

[dee-writes-smut]

Her Love is a Bomb with the Potential to Annihilate the Whole World (Eris Week Day Seven)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x Reader

SUMMARY Falling in love with someone means exposing the softest, most fragile parts of yourself to them and then praying they don’t destroy you. Being touched sends you spiraling into delirium. The slightest brush of their nails on your skin can shred you. And if they want to hurt you, it’s fatal.

CONTENT WARNINGS smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, fingering, passionate sex, reader goes from being a mess for him to wanting to make him a mess ;)

AUTHORS NOTE this is a sad, but joyous occasion as today marks the last day of @erisweekofficial 2024. As relieved as I am to no longer have to stress over editing and posting every day for a week, I am also devastated. I had lots of fun this Eris week and I hope to do it again in the future. With all that said, I hope you enjoy this smutty free day <3

Falling in love with Eris had felt like walking a tightrope stretched over an endless chasm, the balance precarious and the fall inevitable. From the moment your eyes had met across the dimly lit room of that conference, something unspoken had tethered you to him. He had been a storm, all fire and edge, and yet, despite every warning you gave yourself, you leaned into it.

The weight of the room pressed in around you, but all you could feel was Eris—his warmth, his breath mingling with yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest under your trembling hands. You had no control, not anymore, and the last of your defenses crumbled the moment he touched you. Every fiber of your being screamed for him, needed him in a way that defied logic, defied reason.

You kissed him like you were starved, like years of unresolved tension and unsaid words finally broke free in a rush of hunger that neither of you could contain. His lips were soft but insistent, his hands tightening in your hair as though anchoring you, grounding you to this moment. Each touch was a promise—one of unspoken desire, of the fire that had always burned between you.

But it wasn’t enough. You needed more, more of him, more of this.

You clawed at his shirt, fingers trembling as you yanked it over his head. The sudden cool air of the room kissed his skin, but neither of you felt it, too consumed by the pull, the gravity that dragged you toward each other. Eris’s body was a canvas of strength and elegance, his chest rising and falling in time with yours, and you pressed your hands against him, memorizing the feel of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

Eris’s own movements were slow, deliberate, a contrast to your frantic desperation. He undid the buttons of your blouse with practiced ease, his hands brushing your bare skin with a reverence that sent a shiver through you. "You’re shaking," he murmured again, his voice rich and smooth, like a promise whispered in the dark.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the flood of emotions rising in your throat, but it was useless. "I—I need this," you whispered, your voice broken, breathless. "I need you."

His eyes darkened with something primal, something that flickered with both understanding and an unquenchable hunger. "I’m right here," he replied, his tone steady, reassuring. He leaned down, kissing the side of your neck, trailing his lips across your collarbone in a slow, torturous path that sent sparks through your body.

But it wasn’t enough. You were unraveling, every second without him tearing at the fragile thread of control you clung to. You shoved him back with more force than you intended, your body fueled by the need to feel every inch of him. The table behind him creaked as his back hit the edge, and before he could recover, you were on him, your legs straddling his waist, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him again, harder this time.

Eris groaned against your mouth, his fingers gripping your hips, pulling you closer. The kiss was a battle—teeth clashing, tongues tangling, every touch laced with years of pent-up frustration. You rocked against him, feeling the hard press of his arousal beneath you, and a moan escaped your lips at the delicious friction.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, breaking the kiss, his breath hot against your skin. His hands roamed your body, sliding up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before coming to rest on your hips. He held you firmly, his control unwavering despite the heat simmering between you. "To take what you want, to finally have me like this?"

You gasped as he pulled you tighter against him, his words igniting a fire inside you. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with both desire and defiance. "I want all of you."

Eris’s lips curled into a dangerous smile, his hands gripping your thighs as he shifted, flipping you onto your back on the table in one swift, practiced motion. You let out a startled gasp, but the sound was cut off as his mouth found yours again, silencing any protests with a searing kiss that left you breathless.

His hands were everywhere—on your hips, your waist, your breasts—exploring every inch of your body like he was memorizing you, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his fingers. You arched into him, your body moving on instinct, driven by a need that consumed you whole.

But Eris took his time, his movements slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and commanding. His fingers trailed down your body, brushing over the curve of your stomach before sliding lower, slipping between your thighs with a skill that left you trembling.

He drew a low moan from you as his fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, circling it slowly, teasingly. "Is this what you need?" he asked, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your ear. "To be taken apart piece by piece?"

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t think beyond the feeling of his touch, the way he made you unravel with each slow, deliberate stroke. You were lost in him, in the heat and the hunger, in the fire that burned between you. "Yes," you whispered, your voice shaky, breathless. "Please."

Eris’s smile was wicked as he dipped his head, his lips ghosting over your skin, trailing down your body until he reached the apex of your thighs. You tensed, anticipation thrumming through you as his mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue tracing slow, lazy circles over your sensitive flesh. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and torment that had you writhing beneath him, your hands fisting in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing more.

He hummed against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body as he worked you with an expert precision, alternating between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks of his tongue. Your breath hitched, your body arching off the table as the pleasure built, every nerve alight with the sensation of him.

"Eris," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, your hands clutching at him as you felt yourself teetering on the edge. "Please…"

But Eris didn’t give in to your desperation, not yet. He slowed his movements, drawing out the pleasure, pushing you higher and higher but never letting you fall. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him as he devoured you, his tongue moving in perfect rhythm, driving you mad with need.

You were close, so close, your body trembling with the effort to hold on, to resist the inevitable release. But when Eris looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of heat, his lips wet with your arousal, the sight alone was enough to push you over the edge.

Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure ripped through you. You cried out, your hands fisting in Eris’s hair as you rode the wave of your release, every nerve alight with sensation.

But even as your body shuddered with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Eris didn’t stop. He kept his mouth on you, his tongue lapping at you, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled away, you were panting, your body limp and trembling. But the fire between you hadn’t dimmed—it had only just begun.

Eris stood, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you to the edge of the table, positioning himself between your legs. His eyes met yours, dark and full of desire as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Now," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Let’s see if you can handle what comes next."

Eris's voice was dark, laced with that unshakable confidence that had always driven you insane, the same confidence that had made you hate him, but now—now it only made you burn hotter. His body hovered over yours, the heat radiating from him like the embers of a wildfire, ready to consume everything in its path. His fingers trailed down your thighs, sending shivers up your spine, and his grip tightened on your hips as he positioned himself at your entrance.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed inside you, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was both agonizing and blissful, and you bit your lip, stifling the moan that threatened to escape.

Eris leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You're quiet. I thought you were desperate for me."

That snapped something in you. All the tension, the frustration, the need—it burst free, raw and untamed. You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as you bared your teeth. "Shut up, Vanserra," you hissed, and with a quick surge of power, you flipped him onto his back. His eyes widened in surprise as you straddled him, taking control, the edge of the table groaning beneath you both.

The satisfaction of seeing him beneath you, for once at your mercy, sent a thrill through you. You sank down on him, fully, a moan escaping your lips this time, unable to be contained as he stretched you to your limit. His groan followed, low and guttural, his hands immediately flying to your hips, but you were faster, slapping them away, pinning his wrists to the table.

"Now who's in control?" you growled, your voice shaking with both triumph and desire. You rode him with all the aggression you’d been holding back for years, each movement purposeful, relentless, making sure he felt every bit of what you’d been withholding from him.

Eris’s eyes darkened, a wicked smile curling at the edges of his mouth despite the rough pace you set. He strained beneath your grip, his muscles coiling with the effort to keep himself in check, but you knew you were driving him insane. "You think you can take what you want from me and still win?" he rasped, his voice rough, strained. His breath hitched as you quickened your pace, the table beneath you both creaking louder with each movement.

"You underestimate me, Eris," you panted, the fire between you burning hotter, fueled by the biting words, the clash of dominance, the need to prove yourself just as capable of breaking him as he was of you. You watched as his jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck straining as he fought for control, his hips lifting to meet yours, driving deeper into you with every thrust.

"You're desperate," he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice a rough growl. "I feel it—how much you need me." His hips snapped up harder, matching your rhythm, and you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

You leaned down, your face inches from his, breathless, teeth bared. "I don't need you," you spat, though your body told another story, the slick heat between your thighs betraying the lie. You tried to maintain control, tried to keep the edge, but the sensation of him inside you, the way he filled you so completely, so perfectly—it was driving you mad.

Eris’s eyes blazed with challenge, and suddenly his wrists broke free of your grip. In one swift, fluid motion, he sat up, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The sudden shift had you gasping, and before you could protest, he kissed you—hard, deep, his teeth grazing your lower lip, claiming you with a ferocity that left no room for argument.

"I can feel you falling apart," he growled against your lips, his voice thick with lust. "Don’t fight it. Don’t pretend you don’t want this."

You hated him for being right. You hated the way he could read you so easily, how he knew exactly how to break through your defenses. But in that moment, you couldn’t fight anymore. The need, the desire, the fury—it was all too much. You let go.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you rode him harder, the friction between your bodies intoxicating, every thrust sending jolts of pleasure through your core. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, holding you tight as his movements became rougher, more desperate, matching your aggression with his own. The air between you crackled with tension, with the raw, unfiltered need that neither of you could contain.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice thick with dominance, his breath hot against your neck as he thrust up into you, hitting that spot that made you see stars. "Admit that you need me."

You bit back a scream, your body trembling as the pressure built inside you, your walls tightening around him as you edged closer to release. "Fuck you," you managed to choke out, your voice ragged, but the words had no bite. They were hollow, empty, because you were already his—had been from the moment this began.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive spot between your legs, and you shattered. Your orgasm tore through you like wildfire, your body convulsing, your mind going blank as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You screamed his name, your nails raking down his back, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you anchored to reality.

Eris groaned, his body tensing beneath you as he followed you over the edge. His release was just as powerful, his hips slamming up into you one final time as he came, filling you completely, his breath ragged and uneven against your skin. The sensation of him pulsing inside you, of his hands gripping you so tightly, of his body moving in sync with yours—it was enough to make you lose yourself completely.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, trembling, your bodies spent. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. For a moment, neither of you moved, too caught up in the aftermath of what had just happened.

ERIS WEEK TAGLIST

@littlest-w01f @mp-littlebit

[imfinereallyy]

Spooky Spouse🕸️𓆩♡𓆪🕸️

happy spooky season :) this is for my mutuals @cranberrymoons @penny00dreadful @theheadlessphilosopher @vthx who when I asked about when we think steddie bday's was, it derailed into well...this. And it was too hard to resist.

v brief mention of nsfw

"You want to what?"

Eddie stares at Steve excitedly, practically vibrating in his spot across from Steve in the kitchen.

"We should get married on Halloween!" Eddie shouts.

Steve lets his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he looks at his very manic, albeit very cute, fiance. "Babe, I love you, and for that, I am going to hear you out—"

"Love you too." Eddie interrupts softly.

Steve's mouth curves at the edges; he's sure he has what Robin has claimed as his 'lovesick' smile on his face. "—but why would you want to get married on your birthday?"

Suddenly, Eddie's excitement switches into an embarrassed blush. Hiding behind a finger spun around a soft curl, he mumbles, "...about that..."

Steve sighs and leans back in his chair. He feels the familiar ache in the bottom of his back, scarred road rash that never quite healed right in 86'. If he sits too long in one spot, Steve finds himself fidgety and unsettled.

He wonders briefly if he can convince Eddie to give him a massage later.

Eddie's embarrassment shifts for a moment to concern, eyes wondering where Steve's back meets the base of the old wooden chair they found on 74th Street two years ago. Steve knows Eddie had liked the way the chair creaked like Steve's knee, and that was reason enough to bring it home. Now, though, with the way Eddie holds his breath to see if the familiar creak of the chair will mix with the sounds of Steve's young bones aging, Steve knows he won't have to do any convincing at all.

"I'm okay, Eds. You were saying."

Eddie's face blooms red again. "Okay, only if you promise not to be mad."

"That is never a good sign."

Eddie bites his lip, "What if I told you that my birthday isn't really on Halloween?"

Steve stares blankly, "I know I've had a few knocks on the head, Eds, but I'm pretty sure you can change your name, not your birthday. Having a wedding doesn't mean you get to move your birthday."

"Well!" Eddie jumps, this time with more anxious energy, "You see, that's what I mean; we wouldn't have to move my birthday if we got married on Halloween."

"Okay, you lost me. Am I concussed again? Did we go too hard last night? I know you said you were 'gonna fuck me so good I would forget my name,' but I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant."

Eddie takes a deep breath before getting on his knees in front of Steve, taking his hand into his own. "Stevie, I mean that I lied. My birthday isn't Halloween. It's actually in February."

"What."

"You said you wouldn't be mad!"

Steve snorts but gives Eddie's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm pretty sure I actually said that 'wasn't a good sign'. I never agreed not to be mad."

"We both know it means the same thing to you." Eddie huffs.

Steve's lovesick smile is back again, despite knowing he should be mad. "You're telling me you've convinced everyone your birthday is on Halloween?"

"...well, everyone but Wayne." Eddie's smile turns sheepish.

"Jesus Christ Eds."

Eddie jumps up from his knees back to his feet. Steve can hear Eddie's ankle crack at the sudden change. He keeps a hold on Steve's hand. "Listen, I had good reason. I love Halloween; I should be a Halloween baby. My death was almost by bats; I mean, by that logic, it's almost full circle."

"I feel like you're D&D'ing me into logic that doesn't make sense. Eddie, are you trying to make it worse?"

Eddie throws his head back and groans, "No. I'm just—I love Halloween. It feels wrong not to have something important on that day."

"So you decided to change your birthday? Ed's that's not legal."

Eddie's excitement comes back tenfold, giving Steve whiplash. "Well, neither is our wedding! So it's perfect! Honestly, very metal of us to be fighting the law on such an amazing day." Eddie's arms flap around in excitement, making their conjoined hands move messily throughout the air.

Steve wants to be mad; he really does. But he can't help it; he just loves this idiot too much. "Fine, we can get married on Halloween."

"Really?!"

Steve stands, bringing his lips to Eddie's hand, then gently to his lips. He murmurs against his mouth, "On two conditions."

Eddie nips Steve's lip, "Anything, baby."

"One." Steve starts, sliding his tongue into Eddie's mouth, just to be a brat, before pulling back. Eddie groans but doesn't protest. He knows that this is the rare occasion it's his turn to be punished. "You have to tell everyone the truth about your birthday."

"Yep, fine. You got it." Eddie grabs Steve by the back of his neck and pulls him back. Consuming him greedily, Steve gives in to the distraction for a moment. Loving the feeling of Eddie's heat pressed against his own.

Steve pulls back reluctantly, a trail of spit connecting the two of them. Eddie whines and paws at Steve's hips, trying to draw him back. "Two, you have to tell me when your actual birthday is."

The heat clears from Eddie's eyes and the sheepish look returns. "Uh..."

Steve starts to remove himself from Eddie, but Eddie scrambles to bring him back against his chest. "Fine. Fine, I'll tell you."

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie's, patiently waiting for him to spill.

"It's February 14th."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ."

**

this spiraled form all of us being convinced eddie would lie and say his bday is on Halloween. to my mutals, sorry I didn't tag you all it got to long, but this was for you guys ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[the-modern-typewriter]

May I request a supervillian x villian where the villian begs the supervillian to let them go save their sidekick.

"Don't," the supervillain said, warning.

The villain's fingers curled, nails digging into the end of the armchair. The soft material was threadbare from years of them digging their claws in watching the news, from reason or another, but they'd never...

"I promised I'd protect them," the villain said.

"It's a trap."

"I have to go. I promised."

"And I promised I'd protect you." The supervillain stopped behind them, a looming shadow. It felt icy cold where their shadow fell, raising the hair on the villain's arms. It didn't frighten them though.

"Then protect my heart." It was a whisper.

The supervillain's fingers curled around the villain's throat, tilting their attention away from the corporate horror on the screen and onto the supervillain. Even knowing that their sidekick was in trouble, knowing that every second they sat there was a day where their sidekick could be hurting, they couldn't help but focus on the supervillain.

They were like that. They absorbed everything, whether the villain wanted it to or not.

The supervillain stroked their thumb over the villain's pulse, forcibly slowing it, calming it.

The villain exhaled a broken breath.

"Please," they said again, even as they sagged against the chair, fists unspooling.

"Say you pull this off, say you get them back without getting yourself caught." The supervillain's head tilted, studying them. "Do you think it won't happen again?"

The villain swallowed.

"Loving anything too fiercely in this game is a weakness." The supervillain's eyes blistered into them. "If you go, all it proves is that your sidekick is a target they can hit and hit and hit again until it either no longer gets a reaction from you or there's nothing left. It saves nothing. It protects nothing. Do you understand?"

It made sense. The villain knew that it made sense, but everything inside of them still screamed.

The supervillain's grip tightened a fraction, biting.

The villain's air stuttered.

"Please," they said again. "I'm - I'm asking."

"That's not what you're doing."

"I'm begging. Please."

It was all they could say. There was no logic to the decision, no grand strategic argument. They could say that not going made their enemies believe they could do what they want, take what they want, without consequence, but...

The supervillain sighed. They leaned down to press a kiss atop the villain's head, letting go of the villain's throat.

"No," the supervillain said.

The villain's stomach bottomed out. It crumpled. It compacted, roiling, like so much garbage. Their vision swam as they gasped.

"I said I'd protect you," the supervillain said. "You're not going anywhere." They straightened, battle-gear shrouding them in an instant, transforming them from the villain's sometimes-lover to something else entirely. "I'll take care of this."

The villain twisted, eyes wide.

The villain returned an agonising two hours later, with the villain's sidekick terrified in tow.

The villain stood.

The sidekick flung themselves into the villain's arms, clinging to them for dear life, shaking all over.

The villain met the supervillain's gaze above their sidekick's shoulder, taking in the blood splattered their armour; none of the supervillain's own. They wrapped their arms slowly around their sidekick.

The supervillain smiled, full of teeth.

"The only proper reaction to someone finding a weakness, love," they said, "is to obliterate them. Don't let this happen again."

Then, once again, they were gone.

[igotanidea]

Forgetter: Jason Todd x reader

This was one hell of a day.

(this narrator got a feeling like she's been using this line in the story way too often, but hey! Y/N had a really busy and hectic life so what do you expect me to say?)

No, but seriously.

When she got into the shop in the morning before work to do some quick grocery and saw the flowers and buquetes standing pretty much everywhere, her first thought was what's the occation.

Took her three hours to realise the date on the calendar.

February 14th

St. Valentine's Day.

And it made her smile wondering what kind of gift her beloved boyfriend would offer her. Honestly she would be over the moon with just one flower or a simple card, but knowing Jason and his deeply hidden romantic soul he would go for something original.

So all that was left was waiting for the evening till the end of her shift and getting home to have some hearty celebration.

***

8 hours passed in a blur. Between a ton of people wanting something, new cases and stuff needed ASAP or even yesterday, stupid photocopier that refused to cooperate and a few small but quite painful paper cuts there wasn't much time to fantasise.

And all she needed for some love, peace and quiet, perhaps a glass of wine and chocolate, movie and cuddles with her favourite teddy bear while whispering sweet words of some long forgotten Romanticism poet.

Instead, she walked in on a blood stain on the floor. A red trail starting from the window and leading to the kitchen.

KITCHEN.

Out of all places that was the one he decided to crawl into, and it made her shiver. There might have been a few reasons behind his (lack-of) logic, but this room was the only one filled with sharp tools perfect for defence. Or attack. Depending on the side.

"JASON!!?!?" she yelled dropping her bag on the floor and completely forgetting about the necessity of keeping quiet while in a potentially dangerous situation. "JACE WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!" she frantically rushed to the kitchen searching for dead bodies or chopped limbs.

There was no such thing.

But-

the pile of dirty dishes in the sink

the mobs of clothes begging for laundry

unidentified stains on the floor, the origin of which she didn't even want to guess

and the smell of burning.

and her wonderfully wonderful boy wonder sitting in the middle of it all, shirtless (which may have been a mildly mitigating circumstance) with some new fresh cuts and bruises (which were definitely aggravating the situation) patching himself up.

"Hey princess." he said jauntily sending her the most charming smile as if this was all normal.

"Jace--" she opened her mouth to say something, anything but no words came out and she just froze in the middle of the kitchen with empty eyes fixed on his silhouette.

"Hey. Hey Y/N? What happened? Look at me." despite the stinging and half-applied stiches he got alarmed and was by her side immediately. "Baby. Come on, talk to me." his hand on her cheek brought her back to reality.

"What- What is all this?" she half-sobbed waving her hand around the mess.

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry about that. Didn;t really have much time for the house maintenace today. I got a trail of this villain that-"

"Villain....?" she stuttered. Any other day, any other night she wouldn't say a thing about his Red Hood duties, but 14th? Did it mean nothing to him.

"Yeah, I've been hunting him down for weeks now and-"

"Jason..."

"I got involved and lost sense of time I guess while--"

"Jason..."

"Look I promise I will clean it later, after --"

"TODD!" she yelled in frustration

"WHAT?" he spat back instinctivelly getting into fighting mode when her scream spurred him on. "shit. sorry. Sorry baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you... Hey! Hey Y/N, please, don't cry!" the tears falling down her cheeks were both confusing and heartbreaking "god. fuck. I'm sorry. I;m so sorry..." he muttered wrapping arms around her and pulling her to his chest feeling guilty like never before.

"What day is today...?" she sobbed, the words a bit muffled due to the squeeze.

"Wednesday."

"What day of the month?!"

"14th...." his eyes grew wide "Oh, holy fuck...."

The amount and variety of curses that rushed through his head are not to be repeated here.

The one that took the spotlight though was something along the line of him being a total fuckup for forgetting the so-called most romantic day of the year.

Holy fucking mother fuckery fuck. (yeah, I know what I said before about not quoting his thoughts, but screw it, he was wailing in self-hatred).

And even if it meant nothing to him, it meant so much to her. And she was his girlfrend, his lover, his soulmate so this was a huge, huge failure on his part.

"Y/N..." he whispered not sure how to proceed but knowing well enough he had to thread carefully. "Y/N, princess, please forgive me...." the grip on her body tightened significantly as Jason headed to the rage fit and was barely holding back from punching a wall in blind fury on himself for letting her down.

"I just wanted some quality time with you..."

"Quality time?" he repeated. That was a surprise. So she didn;t want flowers? Jewellery? Chocolate? A spa weekend? An expensive shopping on his expense. Cause he would give her all that if she said a single word. But she chooses...

"Yeah, quality time." she pulled back and looked up into those remorseful green eyes. "Just you and me. No vigilante. No Red Hood. I know it's a lot to ask, but please... please..., be Jason Todd for me tonight."

"Y/N." his tone was serious and she knew what was coming.

"Ok... Ok, I get it..." she muttered, avoiding his eyes, wriggling to escape his embrace.

"Don't you move away from me, you silly girl!" he grabbed her waist again and carried her to the couch bridal style. "Quality time. You want it you got it."

"Did you just paraphrase--"

"Ariana Grande. Yes. But trust me, she got nothing on you."

"Does it mean--?"

"I'm staying with you. But only on one condition."

"And what may that be?" she smiled softly, nuzzling against his chest.

"You get into your silly head that I love you every day of the freaking year, ok? I don;t need those five special days to go overboard while forgetting the other 360. My love is always with you."

"You only say it cause you're too much of a pussy to admit you fucked up." she teased, but smiled fully through the remnants of the tears

"Oh did I really?" he brushed lips over hers "did I really fuck up?"

"Big time..."

"guess that leaves me 364 days left to beg for your forgiveness."

"Idiot!" she punched his chest playfully

"Come on sweatheart we both know you love me." he grabbed her wrist and kissed the inside of it before planting soft pecks on each of her knuckles while looking deep into her eyes.

"Yeah... you keep telling yourself that..." she hummed.

She loved him.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 1

Azriel x Cassian x Reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 5k

Super angsty IC dynamics, little bit of violence/blood. Injured reader.

--------

“It was my right!!” Your voice was shrill, breaking from the volume – but you couldn't care less.

“I understand that Y/N, but I have a duty to my court. And to you, to keep you safe.” Your Highlord was unmoved, professional and stoic, your anger washing over him like water against stone.

The thud of your heart was in your ears, the tips of them hot, and you were sure the rest of your family could hear it too. You tried to breath, to think, to let yourself see the logic in Rhys’s decision to let Azriel make the kill over you.

But it was all bullshit.

“He was mine to kill,” you seethed, your voice unrecognisable, an almost growl from the deep part of your throat that strained at you not to cry.

“Try to understand–”

“No!” you spat, marching up to the High Lord, your finger pointed at your chest. The rest of your family stiffened as you approached, untrusting of what you would do next. You could see Azriel’s shadows run down his frame, even though the male hadn't moved from his formal stance by the door. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, still unable to look you in the eye since the moment you had barged into the room. Feyre was biting the nail on her thumb, her face pained and distressed as she watched you march up to her mate. But it was Cassian who showed the least amount of trust, taking a step closer, ready to jump in if - or rather when he had to.

“She was my sister Rhysand, MY SISTER! Not yours, not anyone else's here. He took her in innocence, and his death was mine to mark.”

Rhysand’s brow clenched. “It had to be this way,” he offered softly.

You scoffed, running shaky hands through your hair as you paced backwards. “You expect me to believe that?” Sarcasm oozed from you as easily as the aggression. “I’ve only ever asked you for one thing Rhysand, one thing! Meryl’s murder was unjust, and you promised to train me to avenge her! You promised I would be the one to kill that male!”

Rhysand took a deep breath, his violet eyes pained, but his head remained high. “I’m sorry Y/N. It’s as I said, you’re not ready to execute a mission this big, and Alvar had intel on our court that we could not risk exposing.”

“I have worked my ass off for years for you Rhys. I have trained in hail, rain and shine, I’ve completed mission after mission with no complaint. I have fought for you, lied and stolen and killed for you. I have given my life to avenging Meryl, and you have the audacity to tell me I’m not ready?”

“I know it’s hard to hear. There’s no changing that you didn't have clearance.”

“From who?”

“Cassian and Azriel.”

And that was the last thing you heard before your heart broke in two.

The males you trusted most in this world, the two that had broken your walls, taught you to trust again, trained you and nurtured you, the very beings you loved most in this world,– had not only known of the task, but had been the ones to stop you from fulfilling your life’s mission?

They knew the depths of your reasoning for joining the Inner Circle, for training as a Velarian spy. They had known your one true desire to find Alvar Ashwood – Hybern’s lead assassin – and make him pay for the innocent life that he took.

You looked between the two of them now, your mouth agape as you tried to find the words, or even a sound that could come close enough to the anguish you felt. But no sound found you, even your shaking had stopped. Rhys was saying something, but his words were a world away, muffled and muted as heart-wrenching shock consumed you.

Cassian looked back at you with broken, pleading eyes. Azriel's head hung low in shame.

You would never forgive them for this.

“I-I.” You stopped yourself, gulping. You had nothing left to say. Nodding slowly, silent tears of realisation rolled down your cheeks. One thing was clear – there was no one left that you could trust.

“I’m sorry you’re hurt Y/N, truly. Please, take some time to rest, to process. We’ll discuss this further when you’re ready, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Rhys’s stance had softened at your tears, his palms open as he dared to try and slip through your mental shields to sooth you.

Gritting your teeth, you slammed your walls up as high as possible, shutting him out and throwing him from the outskirts of your mind. You whipped your head back to your High Lord, a snarl ready at your lips as you took another stride towards him.

Cassian jumped into action then, stopping you with two large hands on either of your shoulders, his back to his Rhys as he blocked your path.

“Hey, hey, how about we go talk about this outside, ok?”

“Get off me,” you spat, shaking off his hold as you tried to eye Rhys over his shoulder.

Feyre had joined her mate now, their arms linked as they stared at you with pure shock. Neither of them had anticipated just how deeply this decision would cut.

Giving up against Cassian’s hold, you looked between both of them, their figures becoming a blur as tears welled in your eyes. “How could you do this to me?” you broke, your face crumpling. “I trusted you, all of you!”

Cassian pulled you close to his chest as he walked you from the room. “Shh, its alright, c’mon, come with me.”

You had nothing left to give. No energy, no fight, certainly nothing that could resist Cassian’s strength as he dragged you from that room, weeping.

You weren't even sure how you made it to the gardens, but the bite cold of the night shocked you enough to push the General off of you.

Bending at your waist, you held yourself up by your knees, your breath shaky and uneven as you struggled to breath in between sobs. Bile rose in your mouth, and you were unsure if you were going to be sick.

“Shh, its alright Y/N. Just breath.” Cassian’s large hand framed and soothed your back.You wanted so badly to give in to him, to throw yourself at his chest and let him hold you while you cried. But no – he had betrayed you, just like the rest.

“D-don’t touch me,” you managed to gasp.

“Alright sweetheart, alright.”

“And don't call me that!” Having regained a steady breath, you straightened to look at him, disgust seeping from your expression as your eyes darted between his. “You knew?”

Cassian sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head slightly. “Yeah, I knew.”

“How could you not tell me?”

Another sigh from the General. “We knew you’d go after him if you found out.”

You blinked back at Cassian, biting your lip as you shook your head in disbelief.

“I know it might not make sense right now doll, but we did it for your own good.”

You shook your head faster, your frown deepening as you stepped further away from your once friend. “No, no no Cassian! No! There is no excuse!”

“I’m sorry you’re hurting Y/N, really, I am. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love, to need to avenge them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “That’s right Cass, you do. So where was our family to lie and deceive you all those months you spent slashing and killing to avenge your mother?”

Cassian’s eye softened as he took a deep breath. “You know that is the deepest regret of my life.”

“At least the decision was yours,” you spat, turning your heel for the gates at the back of the gardens.

Cassian was on your tail. “Please, Y/N. We did it out of care for your safety, try to understand.” You kept a stubborn chin forward, picking up your pace as you sought any kind of exit from this Gods-forsaken home that had once been your haven.

You had finally reached the gates, magic willing them to open on their own accord. You steered straight ahead – to the thick of the woods that bordered the house

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked.

You didn't answer the General. Before you, your destination lay clear.

“Y/N. The woods are dangerous.”

You scoffed, your pace and direction unchanged. A strong hand caught your wrist.

“Get off me Cassian,” you snarled.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can't let you.”

“I said get off!”

Cassian snatched his hand back, a sharp breath drawn as he winced in pain. Your power – that unpredictable, uncontrollable current of energy now swarmed your skin like an electric coating. It was moments like this that your gift found you, unpredictable and dangerous, much like yourself. Surely part of the reason your family had decided you weren't good enough to find and kill Alvar on your own.

You had no room in your heart to care if you hurt Cassian. This was your window to flee, so you did, escaping him and heading to the depths of the woods.

————

The woods were crisp and dark, the usual brilliant array of stars hidden by tree tops. But you didn't care, your own discomfort numbed from the sheer rage that fuelled your every step.

Your breath was a smoky puff against the cold, twigs and branches crunching underneath the stomp of your boots while circular thoughts reeled in your mind, over and over again.

Rhysand had ordered Azriel to kill Alvar. Cassian and Azriel didn’t give you clearance and kept the mission a secret. Alvar was dead. You would never avenge your sister.

It was done. It was over. The last tether to your sister, buried forever. Everything you had worked for, the one motivation that kept you from falling apart at her death, that got you out of bed on those days when grief was an excruciating ache on your stomach – gone in an instant. And the people you loved the most  were to blame.

Deep within your turmoil of thoughts, the shadows that slinked over your footprints went unnoticed, and the figure that flew overhead amiss.

The sound of a bubbling brook pricked your fae ears. You decided to follow it – perhaps a sip of cold water, or running your hands through a stream might calm the energy that still zapped at your skin.

Sure enough, not a short walk away was the brook. The water trickled down into a large pool, the tree tops cleared as moonlight danced in the reflection of the water. Under any other circumstance, you would have found this setting to be beautiful.

You bought shaking hands to cup at the stream, wincing as the cold stung at your power. But the liquid was quick to sooth you, and your spark began to fizzle as you bought your hand to your mouth, drinking intently.

After a few more sips, you sat back at the bank of the pool, closing your eyes as heavy breaths pushed through the ache in your chest. The sound of a small splash of water had you opening your eyes, and you jumped as unfeeling, black ones stared back at you from the centre of the pool.

A sickly pale face watched you unblinking, its figure still beneath the water from the nose down. Adrenaline was quick to fuel you to get the hell out of there, but you also knew better.

This was a kelpie. And it was too late to run.

The kelpie moved silently beneath the water, wading its way towards you. You took the few moments you had to scramble to your feet, patting yourself for anything to defend yourself with. Fuck – you hadn't a weapon on you.

Reaching the edge of the bank now, it stood on its long limbs, water trickling off its sickly figure, its own long black hair blending with the reeds that clung to its frame.

“Are you a royal?” it grinned, its pointed teeth yellow and rotted.

You forced a steady voice, calling on your power you so often stifled. “No,” was all you said, staring the creature down.

The kelpie ran an insidious tongue along its teeth, churning a nauseous feeling in your stomach. “Then why do you smell of it?”

You blinked – you hadn't realised you carried the scent of your family with you too. Perhaps a kelpie’s scent was more heightened?

“They are my family. Unrelated.” you explained, buying yourself more time for your power to gather. “They’ll fetch for me soon,” you lied.

The kelpie hissed and grinned at once, walking closer towards you. You took a few steps back, keeping your distance.

“You smell…,” the kelpie paused, its awful nostrils flaring against its face. “Delicious.”

“You best leave. They’ll kill you if you harm me,” you replied quickly, cursing yourself for the fear that you knew now tinged your scent. The kelpie caught it too, its grin growing wider.

“But I’m starrrrved,” it drawled, lowering its look to you. “I’m afraid I cannot contain myself, even if I tried.” A sickly chuckle racked through its chest.

You gulped, sizing up the creature in front of you. Ordinarily, you knew you could take down someone of his size. But you were without your weapons, and your power was unreliable at the best of times. If it took you in the water, you were sure as dead. Begging to the Gods, you clenched your fists, willing your power to find you in any shape or form.

“Any last words, non-royal?” it cackled, readying itself to attack.

You didn't have a chance to respond as shadows flooded around you, blue siphons glowing among them. The kelpie yelped and howled, and as the darkness cleared you saw its pale figure pinned to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Azriel was before you, his hands gripped at both your arms. Your eyes were wide with shock as you took him in. He had followed you?

The kelpie was deceivingly strong, and fought against his shadows, freeing itself quickly. It screeched as it lunged for you both, a darkened claw swinging for Azriel’s back. You shoved the Shadowsinger aside, the kelpie’s claws slashing across your arm as you yelped in pain. Blood began to pour from your new wound, and the kelpie hissed too, having being struck by your power on contact.

Azriel was on the kelpie in an instant, a blur shadows and muscle before you spotted the glint of truth teller. The next thing you heard was the kelpie’s final howl.

Its mouth agape, the kelpie bled black blood, crawling back to the depths of the pool, choosing to die in its element. Neither you or Azriel stopped it.

Azriel was panting, his breathing loud as the final sign of life from the kelpie bubbled to the surface of the water. You stayed still with shock.

Hazel eyes were before you now, scanning you over.

“Your arm,” Azriel said, touching you gingerly.

“I’m fine,” you said with a distant voice, your mind still with the hideous creature that attacked you. Your forearm was warm with your own blood as it gathered at your fingertips before dripping to the ground.

“Let’s get you to a healer.”

It was that instruction, that order, that snapped you out of your trance. You had heeded and trusted that voice for far too long. And in the end, it had betrayed you.

You snatched your arm away from Azriel, scowling as you met his eyes. “Do not tell me what to do.”

Azriel levelled a look at you. “This is not a regular wound, Y/N. You know a kelpie’s claw is laced with poison.”

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the burning sensation quickly spreading across your body, or the reel in your vision. How convenient that you so desperately needed his help.

“I’ll see to it myself,” you snapped, glaring deep into the Shadowsinger’s eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw, Azriel’s tell-sign of irritation. He was far less patient than his brothers.

You made to step around him, before a strong arm circled your waist, pulling you back. Too weak to fight him off, a scarred hand covered your mouth to mute your yell of protest. Instead a quick rush of air filled your lungs as the forest folded around you, quickly revealing an infirmary wing.

Shoving yourself from Azriel’s hold the moment you landed, you stumbled forward, finding balance by clinging to the edge of an empty cot. A set of healers rushed to you, grabbing your arms and holding you up.

“A kelpie’s claw,” Azriel said before either of them could ask the question, one of the healer’s dashing for the antidote. “Where is Madja?”

“She does not work nights,” the healer’s voice was loud in your ear as you clung to her, barely able to stand. A small groan escaped you, the fire from the kelpie’s poison burning through your veins, your mobility slowing with every second.

“Fetch for her, please,” Azriel instructed, taking your limp body from the healer and placing you in the cot. A vial was bought to your lips then, the contents inside giving off a putrid smell. You jerked your head stubbornly, but the vial was tipped further against your mouth.

“Drink,” Azriel ordered, his cold hand lacing through your hair and pushing at the back of your head. You had no chose, swallowing the liquid while you still could. The fire in your veins began to dull, and you breathed, thankful for the quick relief.

“Good,” the Shadowsinger said approvingly. You hated that affirmation, but were too weak to show it.

The healers dotted around you, placing cold rags on your face and stitching your wound. Azriel watched, his arms folded and face etched with concern. Uncontrollable shakes racked through your body, your muscles jerking with pain and exhaustion.

Falling in and out of consciousness, you were too dazed to note Madja’s arrival, and with her, Cassian.

“What happened?” Cassian asked his brother, his eyes panicked.

“A kelpie,” Azriel said tightly.

Cassian clenched his eyes shut, punching the bridge of her nose. “She got away from me. I didn't want to chase her, she was already distraught.”

“I was tracking her too. I should have intervened sooner,” Azriel responded, his eyes not leaving you as a deeper frown settled on his face.

After a quick check of your vitals and words with her healers, Madja approached the two.“The antidote is working. She’ll recover soon.”

“She still looks sickly?” Cassian questioned, looking past the healer at your sagged and sweaty body.

“That is what I wanted to talk to you both about. Y/N is carrying symptoms of something else I can't place. Do either of you know if she was involved in a foreign mission lately, perhaps something of high risk or stress?”

The brothers shared a look before Azriel responded. “Not exactly Madja, but she… received some bad news today.”

“She was very upset,” Cassian added.

Madja nodded slowly, tutting softly. “Whatever has happened, it’s manifesting physically. She’s weaker than usual, and will need to rest for a few days. I suggest keeping her here, where we can tend to her.”

“Perhaps we can bring her home Madja. Would you see to her there?” Azriel asked, his arms crossing tighter. Illyrian’s being preternaturally possessive, he preferred you at home where he could keep a closer eye on you, help even.

“The choice is Y/N’s really. Let me do what I can while she rests, I’ll call for you when she wakes.” The brother’s nodded, making to leave the wing.

“Madja,” Cassian half turned, grabbing the healer by her arm. “Please, just, tell her we’re sorry.”

With a small frown, Madja reluctantly agreed.

————

When you awoke, you expected it to be light. Instead, the infirmary was dim, the soft glow of fae light warming the medical wing around you.

Memories from the night before returned, your stomach churning at the thought. The kelpie, hurting Cassian, the fight with your family. Your heart clenched as you were reminded – they had betrayed you, and you could no longer trust them.

Groaning as you turned to your side, you felt around for anything to catch the bile rising in your throat. You luckily landed on a pan, what little remained in your stomach hurled up as your gut clenched and heaved.

Madja entered at the sound, rubbing soothing pats on your back and taking the pan away when you had finished.

You fell back onto the pillows, your body clammy and weak. “What’s wrong with me?” you asked her as she checked your breathing.

“You were struck by a kelpie. Although your wounds are healing well.”

You looked at the ceiling, nodding as you recalled the horrific event. It was hard enough to almost die at the hands of a creature like that, but your heart ached at the thought that Azriel had saved you, yet you never wanted to see his face again.

“It would seem there is something else that plagues your mind, child.”

You looked at Madja now, blinking away the tears that were quickly building.

“Your family mentioned some kind of distressing news?”

Closing your lids, a silent tear rolled from each of your eyes. You merely nodded, your hands quickly brushing away the evidence.

“Its none of my business, but the General was eager that I relay their apologies.”

You froze, flashing a broken look at the healer you had known for many years. How many wounds and ailments of yours had she patched and cured in your career? But emotional wounds – this was new territory for the both of you.

As if finally in safe hands, your face crumpled, your anger and anguish overwhelming as you began to sob. Madja was ordinarily tough – she had no time for foolery and was unsympathetic for injuries of your own fault. But she comforted you now, hushing you and patting your back in a motherly way.

“What do you do when you no longer trust the people you love, Madja?” you asked through shallow cries.

She gave a small, tight smile, squeezing your hands that she now held in hers. “You spend eternity learning to forgive them.”

You bit the quiver in your lip. “I’m not sure I can,” you admitted.

She sighed softly, nodding with understanding. “You have the rest of your existence if you choose to try.”

Madja’s wisdom comforted you, your eyelids turning heavy and you fell to another bout of sleep.

————

Azriel, Cassian and Mor were eating breakfast at the House of Wind, none of them speaking as the weight of last nights events hung heavy.

With a sigh, Mor looked between the males. “She’s going to forgive you eventually, you know that right?”

Cassian gave her a sorry smile, while Azriel kept his eyes on his eggs. He gripped his fork tighter, his jaw clenched. “You didn't see the way she looked at us.”

“She just needs time,” Mor said. “This was her life’s mission after all.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, an icy cold glare fixed upon his face, a blanket over the sheer guilt he felt at Mor’s statement. “You don’t think I know that?”

Mor blinked at the Shadowsinger in shock – it was so unlike him to lose his cool.

“Easy Az, don't snap at Mor for things out of her control,” Cassian frowned at his brother, before shovelling another mouthful of oatmeal.

Azriel let out a sharp breath, clenching his eyes shut, ignoring the sting from the lack of sleep. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, still unable to unlock his tight jaw. Mor waved him off, assuring him it was no big deal.

A gust of foreign wind blew as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into the dining room. The High Lord disregarding pleasantries, his hand clutching a letter, its broken seal the unmistakable symbol of the infirmary.

“I have received news on Y/N.” The High Lord’s tone was to the point, cold even, like he was only interested in discussing the facts.

“Is she alright?” Cassian asked urgently. Azriel’s grip tightened on his knife and fork as he held his breath.

“Madja says her recovery is slow, but she is making progress. One or two more nights at the infirmary and she should be strong enough to be discharged.”

“I asked Madja about attending to her here. Has she written about that?” Azriel asked.

Rhys’s lips tightened before he loosed a deep breath. Feyre, her face pained, jumped in. “Madja has also written that at this point in time, Y/N does not wish to return to home.”

The others fell silent.

“What does that mean?” Azriel gritted.

Tears welled in their High Lady’s eyes, and Rhys slipped his hand over his mates.

“She no longer wishes to live here,” he said, his violet eyes saddened and dim.

Mor gasped, and Cassian shook his head. “Where will she go?” The General stood, his chair scraping as he pushed it out behind him.

“It’s unclear at this stage. Madja has asked that we respect her privacy while she heals. I’m hoping we can talk to her when she’s feeling better. Perhaps even convince her to stay.”

“She won't come back.” The rest of the group turned to the Shadowsinger, his gaze darkened and his shadows building to his neck. “I could sense her rage, the hate she held in her eyes. To her, what we did is unredeemable.”

“Don’t say that Az,” Feyre begged, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.

Azriel’s pounded the table with his fist, his knife now stuck upright in the mahogany wood. “Would you prefer I lied? She’s worked her whole life to avenge Meryl, and we shattered that dream. I wouldn't forgive us either.”

“Surely there is something we can do,” Cassian looked between his brother’s, eyes desperate, almost pleading.

But Azriel kept his cold glare on the couple before him. “You asked me to find Alvar first. So I did. And now we’ve lost our girl.”

Rhys’s power coursed through the room as he bought his mate closer to his side. “Watch it, Azriel,” he warned. “Alvar had intel on our wards, our home would be forever exposed if he got away. I tried my best to give Y/N the opportunity. Let’s not forget the decision you and Cass made to keep her grounded.”

“She was going to get herself killed,” Cassian muttered, not defensively, but as pure fact. “The desire to kill him – it makes her power unpredictable. She would have hurt herself, or died trying.”

“We all did what we had to do,” Feyre said softly, bringing sense back above the tension of the room. Pained, guilty expressions reflected hers.

Azriel stood now too, making his way around the table and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Rhys asked.

“To go get Y/N.”

“She’s asked we give her some space Az,” Feyre reasoned. “We have no right to go barging in while she’s trying to recover.”

“I don't care. She’s angry, but that doesn't mean she knows what’s best. She’ll heal better here, with people that care about her. I’ll go–”

“Sit down,” Rhys interrupted the Shadowsinger, the air thickening with his power as he pulled rank.

Azriel’s shoulder’s tightened at Rhys’s order, halting his steps yet refusing to take his seat. “She belongs here, with us,” he gritted.

“We can't force her to do anything Azriel,” Mor whispered, her eyes soft as cast a sympathetic look at her friend.

There was silence in the room again, none of them knowing what to say next.

“This is my fault,” Cassian swallowed, his gaze distant in a deep frown.

“No one is to blame,” Rhys said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The situation is unfortunate, but I’m certain it will get better in time.” He breathed deeply, offering a broken smile to his mate before casting a stern look at the others. “We’ll keep you updated if we hear anything further.”

With a few quiet goodbyes, the High Lord and Lady winnowed back to their River Home.

“We–“ Cassian began.

“Don’t Cass,” Mor interrupted knowingly. “You need to leave bad enough alone.” She stood then, leaving the males to their breakfast.

Cassian cast a look to his brother, who was already looking at him. “Are we leaving now?”

“Not with all eyes on us. Wait until dark. Then we’ll go get our girl.”

“Deal.”

--------

Part 2 >>>>

AN: Ok, here’s that angsty piece I was telling you about.... 

I HAVE MISSED YOU GUYS!!!

Also I’ve been slack with my tag lists, very sorry! If you’d like to join a generic acotar one, drop a comment. 

[luveline]

Hiiii, I don’t know if you’re up for any marauders requests- so no pressure!!

If you are though, I recently sprained my wrist pretty (really) bad at work and have been not great about taking care of it, resting, ect.

If it’s not too much trouble- could I get a lil thing about the marauders absolutely doting on reader over an injury? Like so soft and sweet it could give you diabetes.

Thank you!!!

hope this is okay sweetness! fem!reader, 2k

"She's trying to stand up again," James says, finger hooked in your belt loop. 

You glare at him down on the sofa. "Tattle tale," you scold. It's hard to maintain; he looks very sweet today, everyday, and more than handsome. 

Remus stands in the doorway to the living room, the smell of the honey tea he's making on his heels. "Why, dove?" he asks, sounding amusedly horrified. "Can't you stay still for ten minutes?" 

"I just thought I'd help with the tea," you say, taking a painful step toward him. James gasps and actually stands himself. 

Your eyes widen. James is more of a threat-giver than an enforcer. He loves telling on you or better yet enabling your bad behaviour, but if he's getting up it means he won't be allowing you any further self-detriment. 

"Be gentle," Remus says. 

James raises his eyebrows at you and crowds you, hands on your hips. He gives you a little push. "Sit back down." 

You sit, and your ankle feels better for it immediately, but you cross your arms over your chest and huff so they know you don't appreciate being bossed around. James laughs, more than aware. 

"It's for your own good," he says. 

Remus returns with your tea and you say thanks even though you're pretending to be annoyed with them both. "I would like to be allowed to get my own tea," you say, pleased when James sits back at your side with his own cup of tea, his arm heavy against you. "It's not as bad as you think it is, I promise." 

"You have a bruise bigger than Jersey on your ankle and…" James lowers his voice slightly, "I know it's hurting even when you aren't standing. You get a notch between your brows, right here," he says, tapping the space above your nose. 

"The less you use it the quicker it will get better," Remus says. 

"That logic only applies to injury," says a new voice. The front door closes, and after a second Sirius appears in his coat and jacket. "The more you use me, the better I get." He winks at you. 

You wink back. Delighted, Sirius peels out of his coat and shoes and swiftly takes the empty seat on your left. He kisses your cheek hello, his slender fingers tucked deftly behind your ear so he can turn your face to his. 

"Have you been resting?" he asks. 

"No," Remus and James say at the same time. 

"She's done the opposite," James adds.

"Yes, well, she's not perfect." He shakes his head at you hurriedly, mouthing, "You are perfect." 

You know he's joking but you get all melted, tight shoulders lax, head dipping back against the sofa cushions. Sirius hums his approval and strokes your cheek with his thumb. He's not usually the most affectionate of the boys, but when you're injured he acts like you're on your deathbed and deserving of the world's collective sweetness. 

"How was work?" you ask him. 

"Agony," he says quietly, and he's putting it on, trying to make you squirm. It's working. "I was worried about you." 

"I take offence to that," James says. 

"I know you're taking care of her," Sirius says, "don't be daft, I just know she won't behave. Especially if I'm not here." 

Half of a biscuit soars toward Sirius and hits him in the chest. Entertained, you follow its trajectory back to the source and find Remus in the big armchair, cup of tea cradled atop his knee. "What?" he asks, seemingly chewing the first half of the biscuit. 

"Sirius–" James warns. 

"Prick," Sirius says. 

Remus swallows his biscuit and takes a sip of tea. "Oh, sorry. Slipped." 

"Why have you chucked a biscuit at me?" Sirius asks. 

James takes the biscuit and eats it. You laugh from behind your hand. 

"No reason. Y/N, dovey, do you want a biscuit?" Remus asks you. 

You nod and start to stand to retrieve one, but two arms grab your waist. James' arm, tan, steely without any effort, stops you from getting any further. Sirius', less strong but twice as eager, pulls you into his side with a groan. 

"Please sit down," he says. 

You sigh and let your head drop onto James' shoulder. "I'm sitting. I just want a biscuit." 

Remus sits on the coffee table in front of you with a funny look on his face, a mixture of love and disbelief. "I was bringing them to you." He squeezes the tin closed in his lap, his eyes resolutely on yours so you're forced to meet his gaze. He's handsome, too, they all are, but Remus doesn't know it, unaware of the effect his eyes have on you, the colour like browned honey and the little specks of amber that surround his pupil. "I'll give you a biscuit if you promise to stop making it worse." 

"Really," James seconds, "we want you to get better, that's all." 

You slouch further into his shoulder, away from their doting concern. "It's not as bad as you think it is."

That's a bad lie. You and Sirius had been walking back up the garden steps after a red squirrel stakeout —the squirrels keep eating from Remus' bird feeders and therefore scaring away the birds— and you slipped in a strange way. You ended up sprawled out on your back and you'd burst into laughter, while Sirius looked down on you absolutely horrified. It was only later, an hour or so afterwards, when you'd been helped up and placed affectionately in bed, that your ankle started to ache, and you found you couldn't put any weight on it after all. Your panicked tears had terrified the three of them. They've been ridiculously lovely since then. 

"Maybe I could have another look?" Remus asks. 

It's a well-organised dance when you're together, and this part's no different. Remus hands the biscuit tin to James as he stands, and Sirius pushes the table back with his foot so Remus has room to kneel down in front of you. James opens the biscuit tin and knows your favourite without having to ask, offering it to you as Remus straightens out your leg. 

"Is this compression thing a good idea all of the time?" Sirius asks. 

Remus pulls it down, humming as you hiss in pain. "Oh, I know, dove. I'll be really quick," he promises. 

"It's not so horribly bruised," James says. 

"I hate that we're all looking at my foot right now." 

Remus squeezes your toes. If you weren't wearing a sock under the compression support you'd have to break up with him. 

"I think it looks less swollen," he says eventually, rolling up your sock and putting the compression back into the proper place. You gasp at the sudden movement and his brows crease in sympathy. "Sorry, dove." 

"Let's elevate it, right?" James asks. 

"Yes, I think so. I'll get you a pillow," Remus says.

He stands up, turns to leave, and then turns back to press a kiss to your temple. 

"Me too," Sirius says, kissing your cheek. 

Having refused to move from James' shoulder in your embarrassment, you're out of the way for James to kiss you too, and it's a good thing. Anymore sweetness and you'd probably melt into the threads of the sofa. 

"I'll owe you one," James says. 

Remus gets a pillow to prop up your foot. James becomes your dedicated human blanket. Sirius looks for a film to watch on the telly while discussing takeaway options, even when Remus claims that he's going to cook tonight. 

"Takeaway is too expensive," Remus says. 

"Cooking makes a mess that you'll insist on cleaning," Sirius argues. 

"Takeaway also makes a mess," James says. 

"We can't cook because I can't help," you declare. "And that's not fair. You guys will all be laughing and flirting in the kitchen and I'll be sat here by my lonesome watching Footloose."   

"Footloose isn't on until ten," Sirius says, looking at the TV info bar with a smile, "you'd be watching Night Rider." 

Remus holds his hand out from the armchair. It's miles from reaching you, but you know he's suggesting an alliance. "How about," he begins softly, "we have a takeaway and those two can do whatever they want." 

"Remus," James says. 

You stand up on your uninjured foot. The boys groan at your moving but don't argue, letting you limp to the armchair where Remus is sitting with little more than a chorus of defeated sighs. He puts his arms out for you, his hands and grip strong as he helps you down into the seat next to him. There's not really enough room for two, but he makes it, his arm crossing over your chest and under your arm to lock you in against him. 

"This is ridiculous," James says. 

Sirius shuffles across the sofa into the gap you've left behind. "We could always hide the menus," he says to James. "Neither of them know the numbers. Plus, she can't walk and he can't be bothered." 

Remus pulls you in impossibly closer. "That's true." 

The two boys opposite spring up from their seats, laughing as they begin plotting a cruel plan. You rub your fingertips up and down the length of the arm holding you, letting your head flop back into Remus' chest as you say, "They'll realise they like us too much to starve us soon enough." 

"I know." His hold on you relaxes. "I really do wish you'd stop putting weight on your foot. Please. It needs time to get better." 

"Okay," you say, a sucker for him when he talks so softly. "Sorry. No more walking around while it heals." 

"Don't be sorry, just get better quickly. I need reinforcements against their nonsense." 

"You love their nonsense." 

James and Sirius return looking pleased with themselves not long after, and an hour passes quietly. When the doorbell rings, you're unsurprised to find they've ordered your favourite takeaway. 

"You're predictable," Remus says.

"Well," Sirius says, lifting his chin, arms laden with cartons, "how else is she supposed to get better? She needs food." 

In an example of extreme overkill, Remus and James act as crutches, helping you walk the short distance from the living room to the kitchen table. You're surprised James doesn't just attempt to pick you up in a fireman's lift, as is his usual style. 

Sirius sets the table. Remus makes drinks. James doles out the portions of food, knowing what everyone wants without having to ask, and you miss being able to help. You're usually moving with them, an integral thread, ebbing and flowing in tandem. It's nice to watch them together, but you miss doing your part. James' hand warm on your hip as he eases you out of the way, or Sirius' childish attempts at tripping you up on the way to the silverware drawer. 

"Sorry for being so useless lately," you say, twisting the fork in your hand over and over. 

Three glares pierce you at once. "Who says you're useless?" James asks. 

"You're out of commission for the moment," Remus says agreeably, "that's far from useless." 

"I feel bad, having you wait on me. I know I'm making it worse all the time by refusing to just rest but I don't like you having to do everything for me, it's not fair." 

Sirius sits down in the chair beside yours, tucking himself in quickly. "You realise that we'd look after you forever, right? Like, if you needed this much help and looking after every day, that wouldn't be a problem." 

You shake your head. "Don't be silly." 

James clears his throat. "No, listen to him. He's right." 

"We don't mind helping you to the table, or carrying your washing downstairs for you, or any of the things we've offered to do for you since you hurt your ankle." 

Remus sits in the seat across from you with a pointed look. James joins him, a packet of painkillers in hand. He pops two out for you, saying, "You're not useless just because we've had to give you some help. And if you were useless it wouldn't matter. So don't say sorry." 

Remus nods. "Exactly. Don't feel guilty about an accident, dove." 

You look at Sirius unsurely. "You really don't mind looking after me?" 

He reaches over to handle your thigh. "No," he says, gaze soft, fingers squeezing into the fat of your leg lovingly, "we really don't mind." 

[yesimwriting]

Noble Only in Blood

A/n house of the dragon rewatch era <3

Summary: There are very few things you wouldn't do in order to save your brother.

Warnings: me writing for a character for the first time, targaryen incest (reader is rhaenyra's daughter), reader is described as not looking like her brothers and having valyrian features, forced marriage, slight miscommunication trope (i know,, bare with me😭)

----

In times of crisis, it is instinctual to hold onto what is dear. If one has reason to believe that a thief has crossed their path, it is logical for them to reach into their purses and pockets, to make sure that what they care for most is still safe. That same impulse is what guides your hand forward, your fingers curling around Lucerys's shoulder.

After a breath, you realize that Luke has allowed himself to shuffle back, a subtle acceptance of your attempt to comfort him. That startles you more than the sudden appearance of a familiar face. Luke's distaste for what he considers 'sisterly coddling' has grown steadily over these last few years, the threat of war only amplifying his desire to shed the last few layers of protection you're able to offer him.

"It's alright." The response borders on hollow, your voice ringing flat in your own ears. You press your lips together. So Aemond beat your family to Lord Borros. That's...That means very little in the grand scheme of things. You and your brother came here to present an offer, not to begin a war. "You are here as a messenger, not a warrior."

He nods once, eyes still trained on your uncle. Even though Luke's in front of you, his stiffness is reminiscent of a time in which a conflict with Aemond meant running to you, meant attempting to hide behind you until you could either tell him off or call for your mother.

Aemond takes a measured step forward. "Really? Is that what you're calling your attempts to steal my brother's throne?"

There's a muted sharpness in Aemond's voice that feels distinct to anything you've seen from him before. This is not a burst of fury fueled by petulant indignation, this is a flash of a rage sustained by an all engulfing flame.

Your fingers press into Luke's shoulder. The sooner he's returned to the sky, the better. "I was only offering an explanation."

"The ever honest princess." Another step. "I have had enough of your brand of honesty."

Your lips briefly part before pressing together again. There is no worthy response, not with the way Aemond's watching you, expression too unforgiving to be about today. Something small and familiar attempts to dislodge itself from your throat, an echo of the apology that failed to salvage any friendship between the two of you years ago.

There's a beat of nothingness that serves as a form of recognition. Aemond straightens. "While I am accustomed to your self righteousness and defense of Lord Strong, even you cannot think you'll get to walk away after what you both attempted."

At that, Luke straightens, shoulders lifting in a way that encourages you to release him. "Leave my sister out of this." He steps forward, planting himself firmly between you and Aemond.

"Luke."

He doesn't look back at you, but your tone does seem to remind him of the importance of deescalation. "I am not going to fight you."

"No. That would be no challenge." Your fingers curl into your palm with such tension you can already feel your nails imprinting your skin. Aemond raises an arm, hand moving to pull off the patch that covers his lost eye. "I want you to pluck out your eye as payment for mine."

Luke shuffles back, head snapping in your direction. His eyes only find yours for a brief moment before he's straightening to face Aemond again, but it's enough for you to see the dread tinging his put together demeanor. His lips parted, his brows furrowed. That same little boy that always trusted you to know how to stop a game from going too far.

You squeeze Luke's arm, a silent promise, a guarantee that you'll--that you'll what? That you'll return him to Arrax unscathed? That you'll find a way to save him? This isn't the same as the faults that were dismissed as an unfortunate yet dismissible consequence of childhood roughhousing.

Blood has been divided, the rightful succession questioned. The children of rightful heirs have faced worse than what Aemond is attempting. Political divide changes things. Standing on the brink of war, you have no defense. There is no predetermined safe territory for you to rush Luke to, and yet...

"You are not taking my brother's eye." The authority bleeding into your voice provides a lifeline. You have nothing to stand on, not here, and yet the firmness of your statement manages to pulse through you.

Aemond presses his lips together, a sharp smile that's too cruel to be reduced to something as simple as sarcastic briefly taking over his expression. "Sister. Brother." He lets out a breath, radiating an assurance that turns your stomach. Aemond turns his head, his full attention falling onto you. "Surely you've seen your own reflection."

The jab should fall flat. As the only one of your mother's children to be born with features that reflect a more traditionally valyrian appearance, snide comments implying that your brothers aren't truly your brothers are far from new. Even if they're right, it wouldn't matter. Your brothers came from your mother, same as you, and even that isn't the only reason you care for them. They're your family. However, Aemond's smugness makes the comment hard to bear. He's indulging in the power he has over the two of you.

"Call him what you'd like," you say, "You're not going to touch him."

Aemond tilts his chin downwards to make it easier to watch Luke. "Do you always need your sister to defend you?"

Luke lifts his chin slightly, shifting his body forward. "There is nothing to defend. We're leaving."

The excuse to end this interaction offers you a wary sense of relief. You're not convinced that Aemond will be willing to let the two of you pass so easily, but Luke's presented an excuse to allow everyone to walk away before tensions can rise further.

Luke steps away from you, making a point to walks towards the left. Once he's a few paces away from you, you start to walk away as well. You keep your eyes trained on the back of Luke's head, as if that will keep the window from closing.

"I am owed a debt."

You turn on your heels. Luke's farther away from Aemond now, a fact you're grateful for, but now you're practically directly in front of him. The proximity throws you more than it should. The last time you were next to Aemond, the two of you were still friends. He's--you're not sure you've ever noted how tall he's gotten.

You press your lips together, dismissing the feeling. If anything, his height is just another reminder that no part of the boy that used to read with you in the library remains in him. "It will not be paid with my brother's blood."

The silence between the three of you is heavy. A part of you thinks the safest course of action might be grabbing Luke and making a run for it. An escape attempt that hasty comes with its own risks. Aemond is more determined than you've ever seen him. And you can't even truly blame him for his anger, for his hatred.

Aemond has to bear the consequences of a moment's mistake for the rest of his life. Luke took his eye, and when you defended him, you stole his trust. But allowing him to hurt Luke is the kind of cruel justice that resolves nothing.

"Aemond, I'm sorry," the genuineness of the statement knots your stomach, "About what happened." You pause, not completely sure where you're going with this. "You didn't deserve it, but that doesn't change the fact that you're taking advantage of a situation. This isn't justice it is...abuse."

He's quiet, and for a long moment you start to think that you've tugged at the wrong thread and now everything's going to unravel.

Aemond steps forward. You force yourself to stay in place. Luke's a few steps away from Aemond, and if things change that might--that might mean something. "How virtuous." His focus weighs on you enough to force the air out of your lungs. "Then tell me, my princess, how do you suggest the debt be paid?" Aemond takes another step towards you. He's so close now that you have to tilt your chin upwards to hold his gaze. "I wonder how noble you'd be if you yourself were on the line."

The meaning of his words take their time to sink in. Something hard lodges itself in your throat. You swallow in an attempt to dislodge the feeling. "My-My eye?"

"No, little good would come from it." He studies your features with such an openness you have to resist the urge to shrink in on yourself. All you have is your ability to stand firm. "You're worth more unscared." Aemond lets out a breath. "Maybe a wedding is what this family needs."

"What?"

If Aemond thinks anything of your shock, he gives no indication of it. "Marrying Rhaenyra's daughter will only strengthen my family's claim to the throne." The accuracy of the statement turns your stomach.

Noble women are regularly married off as solutions for these kinds of conflicts. It's a way of unifying dividing lines. You do not desire war, nor do you think a hypothetical marriage between you and Aemond would truly fix anything. However, the thought of being used as a political pawn to aid your mother's usurper, makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

Aemond also detests you. Marriage is more often than not about duty. Your mother has never kept that from you. The only thing she's ever assured you of is that when the time came for you to be wed, your match would be compatible. A happy marriage does not begin with love, it begins with respect and an understanding of your duty.

Anything Aemond's trying to force you into wouldn't be that. This is about vengeance, about hurting you and your family even if he has to bind himself to you to do so.

The two of you are trapped. You have no allies, no significant weapons unless you count the two dragons that stand no chance against Vhagar, and you are standing in front of someone demanding to hurt your brother. If this is the only way to guarantee your brother's safe passage back to your mother...

"If I--if I agree...you'll forgive my brother of any debt owed?" The question makes something in your chest ache. "You'll let him go?"

There's a beat in which Aemond's eyebrows seem to draw together, but he returns to neutrality so quickly you're not sure if you've imagined it or not. "You have my word."

"No," Luke's voice is right in your ear. It's his turn to grab your arm. "You can't have her."

"Luke..." His fingers wrap around your forearm, his hold on you growing more desperate. "Luke--listen to me."

He shakes his head. "No." Luke straightens his shoulders, something determined flashing behind his eyes. "No, I can't let you do this."

You turn, placing your free hand over his arm. "I will not risk your safety." He begins to protest again, but you stop him, "Go home and explain the situation to Mother." Luke places a hand over yours, a final attempt at convincing you to try anything else.

"Yes," Aemond echoes, "Go and tell your mother that the girl you consider a sister has to pay for your debts."

Luke turns his head. Despite no longer being able to see his expression, you can feel his anger. "Luke." His stillness is not enough to distract from the fight behind his eyes. "Do you trust me?" It takes him a moment to look away from Aemond, but once he does he nods. "Then I need you to go."

He doesn't exactly relax, but he does let out a breath. You pull your hands away from his before enveloping him in a hug. "It's going to be alright." It takes him a moment to think to place his arms against your back. Luke squeezes you in a way he hasn't in years, holding onto you like you're his entire world. "I will see you again."

You carefully shift back. Luke follows your lead, letting his arms fall to his side. "Yes," he says, eyes briefly shifting back to Aemond, "I will."

"Okay." The word feels fragile. "Go back, be safe."

Luke's eyes are glossy as he nods. If things were normal, he'd playfully scoff at your warnings. "I will see you again."

You nod, and Luke finally turns. He walks away, towards Arrax, towards safety. Whatever was keeping you steady seems to leave with him.

You're allowed a brief moment of silence, of grief, before Aemond speaks. "We'll ride back before the storm begins." In your panic, you had not noticed the clouds overtaking the sky. You think of Luke, riding back alone in the rain. Aemond sighs. "Your sacrifice has not been in vain, it will be some time before the skies make a turn for the worse."

Aemond's ability to read you digs at the back of your mind. It'd bother you more if his reassurance was less needed. You're not sure you can trust your voice, so you nod blankly.

He begins to walk forward. You cannot will yourself to move until Aemond's already ahead of you.

The sight of your dragon quells the loneliness hollowing your chest. Your family is far from you, but Starfyre is still by your side.

Not only are you glad for Starfyre's comfort, you're also thankful for the control of being able to ride on your own. A small part of you is also relieved for the excuse to avoid Vhagar.

You've loved dragons for as long as you can remember, and you've been wary of the larger ones for just as long. It's not exactly a fear, you've just always felt the need to admire them from afar. Even as a child, before Aemond had been able to claim Vhagar, you only wanted to observe her from a safe distance.

No one's comments have ever been able to make you wish that Starfyre was different. Her smaller frame makes you feel more in control when you fly, the two of you melding into one as you approach the skies. She's swift, too, her size allowing her soar through the sky like an arrow that never misses its target.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to keep up on that...runt of yours."

How dare he? He knows what Starfyre is capable of more than most. As a child, her speed fascinated him. A knee-jerk reaction is forced past your lips, "The last thing about this arrangement that should concern you is wether or not Starfyre can keep up."

Aemond pauses, turning to face you. Instead of attempting to insult Starfyre again, he asks, "And what should concern me?"

His words are tinged with a cruel sharpness, a silent warning to watch yourself, to not make threats you cannot follow through on. "You should be concerned that you are full of such spite, that you are willingly entering a union with someone that you have detested since--"

Aemond takes a step forward. You shift towards Starfyre, placing a hand against her side. "Since the day I lost my eye?" Another step. "Since the moment you lied to my father to protect Lucerys after what he did?"

The reality of what happened that day hits you in the chest with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs. Your vision begins to blur. "He's my brother, Aemond."

"And I was your friend." The words come out hard and fast, his voice nearly breaking on the final syllable.

The honesty cracks something in your chest. Helaena, who you loved, often left you in favor of a world that you couldn't always follow her to. The other boys, who had once let you run around with them, outgrew you. But Aemond--Aemond was always yours.

Aemond scoffs. "You cannot pretend that what you did was enough to make me loathe you. I wrote to you." The letter, one detailing his new reality and desire to speak with you, has been a secret of yours for years. You've kept it tucked between the pages of your favorite book, only taking it out to reread in the middle of the night, with the rest of your family fast asleep. "And you never wrote back."

You blink in an attempt to clear your vision. "I did." The confession burns as it crawls up your throat. "But I couldn't bring myself to send you a raven."

"Because this--" Aemond moves forward in long strides. He's directly in front of you before you can think to move. He turns his head, making it impossible for you to not see his scar in its entirety. "I repulse you."

Is that what he thinks? You remain unflinching, allowing yourself to take in his scar and the appearance of his sapphire eye openly. "No." There has to be some way to put it into words. "I-I couldn't bring myself to speak to you. After the way we left things--After what I had done--I was repulsed by myself." You cut yourself off with a shaky breath. "Accepting your friendship after what I had done felt--cruel."

Aemond straightens. For a brief moment, there is only you, him, and the wound that lies between you. Then his expression's fiery edge morphs into something made of stone. "Ever the martyr."

The insult lacks any significant bite. You let your thumb brush against Starfyre's side, relishing in the comfort of her presence. "Better a martyr than someone so desperate for gratification, they are willing to hurt themselves in the process of earning it."

Ranting at him feels hollow, a motion you're going through for the sake of doing something. Aemond seems to sense some lack of fight in your phrasing, or maybe he's growing tired of this. "We should go," Aemond turns away from you, "The weather's changing."

Even though he's no longer watching you, you nod before returning your attention to Starfyre.

----

a/n this was really fun to write, but it was getting long so i decided to break it up, if you're interested in a part 2/would like to be tagged pls lmk :)

also!! if u have any hotd thoughts in general pls feel free to send me them <3