#but it's a specter over them right now

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

You know I think team sneaky is on a collision course toward meeting Otohan (especially because Orym and Imogen are there) and I really don't like the idea that Orym will possibly have to face her without Fearne or Ashton there with him.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,723 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad, from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. You want answers. 

“I want to know why you decided to leave, why you went on that mission and left me when you knew things were not right.” 

John shifts on his feet behind you, the wood floor creaking just slightly. He’s silent for a long moment, so long you almost think he’s walked away. 

“I was too trusting. I got caught up in the mindset of a soldier and chose to trust my superiors when I knew I shouldn’t have. I wanted to send you somewhere else, to stay with Kate, but things didn’t work fast enough to make that possible. I shouldn’t have just left you there, even with Johnny and Simon. It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. At least he knows he made a mistake. At least he thought up other plans, but that doesn’t excuse the fact he did nothing and just left you there so easily. 

Another question burns at the forefront of your mind. You think back to that conversation with Dr. Keller just a few days ago. You want to trust her, you know you can trust her. She’s given you no reason not to. She wouldn’t lie, even if the rest of your pack did. 

“You really didn’t leave me with Graves?” The words slip out before you can stop them, spilling forth from your lips, revealing part of those inner thoughts that have plagued you for the last few hours. 

“I would never have left you with him.” John says, the floorboards creaking as he takes a couple steps forward. “As soon as we found out we turned around and went to Kate’s safehouse. She was already looking for you. We did everything in our power to find you as quickly as we possibly could.” 

The tears start sliding down your cheeks as you sit there, taking in his words. They’re spoken with such conviction and match what Dr. Keller had told you. Some deep, dark part of your brain wants to think it’s all a lie that they’ve conjured to try and make you feel better about everything, to try and jumpstart the healing process. Yet, at the same time you want to believe they are telling the truth. 

Your other option is to trust Phil and what he said to you. For all you know, everything he said was a lie. Some sick justification to torture you as some kind of revenge towards your pack. Maybe it was all about revenge. 

Who can you trust more? Phil, or your alpha. 

Maybe if you had just held on a little bit longer. Maybe if you hadn’t believed Phil’s lie, you could have saved yourself the terror of letting your omega take over. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to take that risk and corrupt yourself with blood-stained hands. From what you can remember and have managed to weasel out of Dr. Keller, they were right behind you. A few more minutes and maybe none of it would have had to happen. 

Maybe you did do the right thing in the end. Phil might have ordered his men to kill you as soon as they arrived. Maybe they would have done it as soon as Simon and Johnny entered the room. Saving yourself might have been your only option. 

Those men would have killed you or worse. You did what you had to do. 

You’re shaking. The tears are cascading down your cheeks, warmed by the heat of the fire. You’re crying, your breaths nearly hyperventilating as you sob quietly. 

“Talk to me.” John says as he kneels down beside you. 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“She scares me, my omega.” Your inhale stutters. “She’s angry. She won’t settle. I’m scared I’m going to lose control and she’ll come out again.” 

“You’re not going to lose control.” John says. Despite the heat of the fire you’re not much warmer, a cold chill shooting through your veins. “If it were to happen, we’re right here. We’ll get you through it.” 

You stare into the flickering flames, your breaths slowly coming back down to normal. John sits there, as still as a tree. You don’t want him so close to you, yet you can’t deny how comforting his presence is. For the first time in a while you don’t feel quite so out of control.

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel. 

You don’t remember falling asleep after your little talk last night. You’re not sure how that moment of vulnerability makes you feel either. There was a time when you wouldn’t have thought twice about going to your alpha with such concerns and tumultuous feelings. There was a time when you would have sought him out for the comfort and stability you need right now. 

Things are different, though. Things have changed. 

You run a hand over your face, thinking back to the groggy conversation with Simon this morning. You’re not quite sure it even happened, or if you dreamed it. There’s two blankets on you, however, and you distinctly remember feeling the second one being draped over you. 

It’s a touching gesture from the specter in your life. Once again he’s been reduced to a shadow, a figure lingering only because he has to. The distance that had once been so close to closing has widened into an impossibly wide canyon. You’re not sure it’ll ever fully close again. Too much has transpired in such a short amount of time between the two of you. He’ll never forgive himself, and you’ll never be brave enough to force it again. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face again. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of trauma and their decisions ache in your chest, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You’re half tempted to go back to sleep, but you’re too awake now, and the light streaming in the doorway is making it hard. It was done on purpose, left that way to prevent you from falling asleep again. 

You let out a huff as you maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed. You try to blink the drowsiness away, no matter how much your brain is trying to chase the last lingering threads of sleep quickly receding. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers, repeating what he told you in the room. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, the lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for late fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny and Kyle down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

NEXT ->

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[dcxdpdabbles]

How about one where Danny saves Tim after Damian cuts Tim’s line?

Danny is throwing out his trash when a hero falls into his arms. He had just finished settling the lid of the bin, stretched his two arms outwards, lacing his fingers together to pop them, and the very second he unlaced them, he heard the shout of alarm.

Glancing up, Danny watches in open astonishment as a body descends from heaven, and he barely has the time to bend his elbows into a catch as the body slams into his arms.

Thankfully, Danny was quick enough to cushion the landing with a big ectoplasm, letting it burst from his forearms and spreading into a makeshift glove that deflates as soon as he catches the body.

Owlishly, he blinks at the white lens of a mask that belongs to the man he caught. A vigilante, one of those bats, he thinks. Danny doesn't pay much attention to the news regarding them, so he has no idea who he's holding.

The other seems frozen in shock, so Danny looks at the sky, wondering where he came from. Standing at the edge is Robin, looking genuinely unsettled.

A rope swings in the wind, obviously been cut. The impaled knife shaped like an R is on the wall next to it. The same R that the kid is wearing on his uniform. His parents are genuine, but it doesn't take Danny long to figure out what happened.

The kid cut this guy's line, which could have easily killed him if not severely harmed him. In all his mature wisdom, Danny does the most natural thing to him.

He flips the bird, jolting the human in his arms into a more comfortable carry and retreating back into the manhole he had crawled out of. The kid seems startled, flipping down from the building, but it will be too late by the time he gets down.

Danny had actually placed a portal to his house in the Infinite Realms right at the diameter of the manhole. The second Danny recovers them with the metal plate, he swings back into the yard of his lovely garden and snaps his fingers to seal off the portal.

By the time the child gets the manhole cover, all he will see is the entranceway to Gotham's sewers. He may even be tempted to search for them, but Danny and his guest will be on an entirely different dimension.

The man in his arms slumps in his hold, looking utterly exhausted. "Where are we?"

"My house. Would you like to come in for some coffee?"

There is a moment where the stranger thinks it over before shrugging, "Why not."

Later, Danny realizes that the easy way Tim allowed himself to be brought inside was a facade. The little shit had just been gathering information on him before he flipped the table and attempted to beat Danny up with impressive martial arts techniques.

Then he stole his specter speeder, flying off into the Realms while Danny wheezed on the ground. Rude. He even took Danny's inbox of who knows what artifacts.

Danny was tasked with discovering their purpose and fixing them as his part-time job as a Ghostly Artifact repairman. Now, his client's stuff was stolen by a spandex-wearing weirdo from what he called the "Trash Dimension."

All because some other spandex-wearing ninja chose to cut his line.

"Crude, one of Clockwork's time amulets was in there," He mutters, wobbling to his feet and shifting into Phantom. He better catch the human before the idiot messed with a timeline. Last time, he took his trash out on a Wednesday and the usual Thursday. This is what happens when he breaks his routines.

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

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[mariasont]

Talking to a Brick Wall - A.H

a/n: rip erin strauss you would've hated this fic

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader

summary: in which you overhear your boyfriend aaron's phone call

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication, self-doubt, happy ending but also a terrible ending bc i SUCK at endings xoxo

wc: 2.3k

You had called out your boyfriend's name multiple times as you wandered into his house. He had asked you a while ago if you wanted to come over for a movie night tonight and hell would have to freeze over before you ever declined that offer. However, upon arrival, you were greeted by silence; no response to the doorbell, his phone, or your voice. Thankfully, the key he'd given you last year jingled in your pocket as you let yourself in.

You had a pretty strong suspicion he'd be in his office--after all, this was Aaron Hotchner, a man who definitely did not believe in leaving work at the office. 

And sure enough, his voice filtered through the slightly ajar door, the rich hue of his mahogany desk framing the gap. You were about to move towards the living room, assuming he was on a work call of some sorts, but his words stopped you dead in your tracks. 

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm speaking, but the understanding isn't there. You know what I mean? It's like the concepts just float in one ear and out the other."

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, brows drawn together, as your hand found the wall, leaning towards the door. He couldn't have been talking about you, right?

"I try to share details, to get her involved, but it's met with this vacant nod. As if the depth of it all just doesn't register."

Oh. Her. You tried to fan away the wetness that threatened to fall down your cheeks, each rapid motion a desperate attempt to convince yourself you were imagining things. 

"And I'm patient, I really am. But when you're met with that blank look, it's... disheartening. You start to wonder if it's worth explaining at all. It's like talking to a wall."

Okay, that stung. It was like an immediate punch to the gut, your heart seeming to drop into the pit of your stomach. Your shoulders slumped slightly as you tried to rationalize his words, but nothing was really making sense right now.

The internal battle was a cruel one: stay and endure the sharp sting of his words or leave and miss more of what he had to say. The latter won, pulling you away from the door. 

You knew you were never going to be the smartest person in the room, and in the past, it was a source of deep-seated insecurity, always a silent specter in the corners of your mind. But then you met Aaron. And he made everything just better. His own intelligence and impressive job never became a yardstick for your worth; he ensured you knew you were more than enough, just as you were.

He had always been the voice reminding you that you were smart in your own right, telling you that your worth transcended any numerical measure of intelligence like a stupid IQ score. But now you were questioning everything. 

Anger seemed like the appropriate response, right? But it was hard to be when his words carried a weight of truth to them. 

You did have a hard time keeping up when he talked about the complexities of his cases, sometimes feeling like an outsider looking in. But, even if you didn't understand, his passion for what he did was infectious, and you hung on to every word when he explained all the ways his smart brain was able to deduce things about people. 

Still, a part of you imagined it was hard for him, that it probably got old fast when you weren't able to hold an intelligent conversation. 

Your knuckles were white against the steering wheel, and it somehow took you only ten minutes to get home when it should've taken you twenty.

It was only when you had taken a shower, put on your favorite pair of pink sweats, brought out some Ben and Jerry's, and turned on Legally Blonde, did you check your phone.

Hi honey. What time are you coming over?

You tried to ignore the sensation of an invisible band drawing tighter across your chest. 

so sorry, not feeling good. rain check? xoxo

You hated lying to him. Hated lying in general, save for the occasional white lie to protect someone's feelings. The fact that you weren't lying to his face was a small mercy, because obviously he'd be able to see right through you.

Do you want me to come there? I can bring food.

You wanted to be with him, you really did, you had been counting down the days to this movie night all week. But the thought of sitting beside him, wanting to ask about his day, about his work, now seemed like an intrusion. Knowing that your well-intentioned questions might be a chore for him or a source of frustration. The realization pressed down on you, a heavy weight that threatened to snuff your light.

no that's okie! thank you though <3 i don't want to get you sick!

Your phone was ringing, his name lighting up the screen for a FaceTime call, it felt like a betrayal of your own making. It was a skill you had recently taught him (which took forever), and of course now he was using it. Your finger jabbed at the red button, your cheeks turning the same color. 

i look & sound disgustinggg rn

I know for a fact that's incorrect. You have a magical talent of looking incredible no matter what.

I want to see your pretty face.

you can be so flattering when u want to mister!

im going to take some medicine & then ill call u l8, k?

Hmm, okay.

love u! xoxo

I love you too, pretty girl.

You hated this. Your eyes were puffy, swollen and wet as you discarded the phone onto the nightstand. He deserved someone who wasn't so pathetic. 

You wallowed in self-pity all night, and then all day, and then all week. You went through the motions--getting up, going to work, and then making up some lame excuse when Aaron asked to see you. Name it, and you had probably said it. In reality, you had been holed up in your room, trading glossy magazine pages for confusing behavioral books.

The subject matter was as dull as dishwater, making paint-watching seem thrilling. But you were committed to bringing some depth to your next conversation with him.

Today's excuse had been some half-truths about being buried in work--which in hindsight seemed comical, given you worked at a bakery and there wasn't much that could take up your time outside of contract hours.

You were splayed across the couch in an upside-down sprawl as you attempted to focus on the scholarly gibberish that filled the pages. 'Homology,' 'dichotomy,' and 'typology' melded into a migraine-inducing blur, tempting you to slam the book shut. You were fighting every urge to throw it out the window and paint your nails with that new glittery polish you've been dying to try.

At the insistent knock, you clapped the book shut (thank god) and stood, brows knitting, as you navigated to the door with a soft scuffle of slippers on polished wood. 

Flinging it open, you halted, breath caught. "Aaron? Oh, hi, what are you doing here?"

The words sprang forth before you could catch them, your hands scrambling up to smooth the evidence of your couch-induced disarray. 

He fixes you a pointed stare as he steps into your apartment, invitation be damned you guess. "I find myself repeating this, yet it seems necessary--peephole first, then the door, sweetheart."

You clamp your teeth onto your lip with such force, you're convinced you've tasted blood. "Oh, right, sorry... I should've remembered."

A flicker of foolishness and a heavy dose of self-consciousness threaten to surface. However, you quickly subdue them, tucking them away as you wrapped your arms around your body, offering him a small smile. Despite everything, your heart leaps at the sight of him. You missed him.

His face softens, his touch soft as he tilts your chin upward. "Look at me. It's fine. I just want to make sure my best girl is safe, that's all."

The temptation to simply crumble there and then, to forget everything and cocoon yourself in his arms, was overwhelming. 

You leaned into his hand without thinking, which now claimed the entire area of your cheek. He was always so warm. 

You watch as Aaron glances around the room, no doubt noting the absence of work-related clutter. "Still working?"

"Oh, I was, I told my boss I'd help with inventory reports." That part wasn't totally a lie, but it still made your conscience squirm with guilt.

"Do you want help?"

The proposal touches a raw nerve, sparking a defensive reflex. Did he think you were incapable?

 "Thanks, but I'm actually all done with them," you lie, your a smile a little too rigid as you head into the living room.

You're keenly aware of his approaching footsteps as you hastily stash that stupid book under a magazine, silently praying he didn't notice. You settle onto the couch, and he joins you, casually drawing your legs over his lap as you recline against the cushions.

"How was your day?"

You wince internally at the automatic question. 

"Not too bad," He replies with an easy shrug, his fingers sneaking under your sweats at the ankles, tracing lazy circles on your calves. "We wrapped up some paperwork, had a couple of briefings, and oh, we were introduced to our new consultant today. She specializes in crypto linguistics--really fascinating stuff."

Your eyes flutter briefly, a constriction forming in your throat, a twist in your gut. The mere mention of the consultant being a she amplifies your feelings of insufficiency. It leaves you wondering, why would Aaron ever be interested in someone like you?

"Crypto linguistics?" you repeat, trying to sound curious rather than lost. 

He leans in closer to you. "It's a specialized area of linguistics focused on decoding encrypted languages."

You offer a nod, managing a convincing "Yeah, of course," even as your eyes unwittingly drift away from his unwavering stare, betraying a hint of your confusion.

Aaron's hand cradles your head, his fingers sifting through your hair. "Hey," he murmurs, drawing your attention back, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your chin touches your chest as you mumble, barely audible, "hardly anything."

Aaron's expression turns to a frown, his broad hands guiding your ass and thighs as he positions you atop his lap, face-to-face, leaving you exposed with no place to hide. Your name escapes him with a sigh. "I don't believe that for a second."

You match his frown with your own pout, nestling your face into his neck, concealing the rosy hue that has claimed your cheeks. "Just a rough week is all."

"Is that so?" His voice was a gentle murmur, his hands soothingly moving in gentle sweeps across your back as you breathed out unsteadily. "Funny, that's been my week too. My gorgeous girlfriend seems to have been avoiding me all week."

"Have not," you mumble, your breath warm against his skin, fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He hummed. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"It's silly."

He guided your face back to his, eyes searching yours. "Listen to me. No, it's not. I don't like when you try to diminish your feelings. Talk to me, honey."

That was your tipping point. A wobble in your lip betrays the onset of tears as your voice breaks.

"I just--I know I'm not as smart as the people you work with or even your past girlfriends. I know I don't get things right away especially when you talk about work, and I see how everyone else is so quick, and I'm here, always a few steps behind. I know that it must be frustrating for you, and I'm scared that one day, you'll get tired of explaining, and your patience will run out, and well, you'll see... you'll see that--"

"Baby, whoa, slow down," Aaron urges, his palms tenderly framing your face, a frown plastered over his face. Your heart hammers against your chest, its rapid beats almost audible, as if it might jump from your body. "Take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You draw in a breath.

His thumb delicately erases the tears that have made their way down your cheek.

"When there is something about my work you don't understand, I will gladly go over it as many times as you need. I don't expect you to know everything about that stuff, why would you? That's not why I'm with you. I'm with you because of your incredibly kind heart and the way you see the best in people. I love you because you are you. What is making you think this way, honey? It's breaking my heart."

"I overheard you Aaron," you said, "saying that sometimes it feels like you're talking to a wall when you talk to me."

"What?" he questioned, but his confusion was quickly morphed into concern. "Oh, sweetheart, no. I was talking about Strauss and her lack of understanding of our fieldwork."

"Oh."

"I would never speak about you like that, you know that, right? And if, in some alternate universe, I did, you need to break up with me, or better yet, set me straight." His hands stayed firmly on your face. "You should never tolerate that from me or anyone else, understood?"

You bit down on your lip, hands resting on his shoulders as you nodded. "Yes, sir."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, sending fireworks to every inch of you as he mumbled against your mouth, "that's my girl."

taglist: @hotchhner

[libingan]

IM BACKKKKKKKK

i was rewatching b99 and theres this one scene w captain holt that gave me the inspiration to write LMAO

something about reader being able to read simon like an open book is just so amusing to me

the base is buzzing with its usual sounds—radios crackling, distant chatter, boots hitting the floor in rhythmic patterns. you’re used to it all by now, the routines and rhythms, the way everyone moves around each other like parts of a well-oiled machine. today, though, there's an odd tension in the air, a stiffness lingering on the faces of the others.

you spot johnny and gaz huddled together, throwing glances at ghost, who stands near the far wall, still as a statue. he’s in full gear, mask in place, eyes dark and unreadable beneath the skull pattern. his shoulders are squared, his stance firm, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. there’s a quiet intensity to him that feels like it could crack concrete if he willed it. with his arms crossed over his chest, the black fabric of his sleeves stretching over his muscles, he looks every bit the silent, unapproachable specter he’s known to be.

johnny tilts his head in ghost’s direction, muttering something to gaz, who nods back, looking genuinely concerned. you drift closer, catching pieces of their conversation as johnny’s low, accented voice reaches you. “tell me that doesn’t look like a man on the edge,” he says, eyeing ghost. “i don’t remember the last time i saw him lookin’ this grim.”

“maybe he got some bad news,” gaz adds, brows furrowed. “you think he’s about to lose it?”

you glance over at ghost again, taking in the hard line of his jaw beneath the mask, the set of his shoulders, the way he seems to radiate an intensity that could send most people scurrying. but to you? nothing feels particularly unusual. you’ve seen ghost like this enough times to know when he’s actually having a rough day—and this isn’t it. so you shrug, looking back at johnny and gaz with a small smirk.

“bad day?” you say, trying not to laugh. “he’s in a good mood.”

the two of them whip their heads to stare at you, disbelief clear on their faces. “a good mood?” johnny echoes, brows shooting up. “that—ye’re tellin’ me that right there’s him happy?”

“yep.” you give a simple nod. “trust me. i can tell.”

johnny and gaz share a bewildered look, glancing back at ghost with renewed confusion. “so… that’s his version of cheery?” gaz says, more to himself than anyone else.

before they can keep speculating, ghost’s gaze shifts over, locking onto the three of you. there’s no warmth in it, but there’s a strange steadiness, a weight, that makes it clear he’s noticed your conversation. he starts toward you, his steps slow, measured, each one landing with the faintest thud on the concrete floor. when he reaches you, he stops just a few feet away, gaze flicking to johnny.

johnny clears his throat, glancing nervously at gaz before finally blurting out, “l.t., we were just wonderin’... somethin’ wrong today?”

ghost’s eyes narrow slightly, and his head tilts just a fraction. “wrong?” he repeats, sounding almost amused. “no. i’m havin’ a good day, actually. got an extra hour of sleep this morning.”

you can feel the stunned silence coming off johnny and gaz, both of them frozen as they process the idea that ghost—a man they’re used to seeing as an impenetrable wall of silence and scowls—has just announced he’s in a good mood. you can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face as you turn to them.

“told you so,” you say, crossing your arms.

johnny looks from you to ghost, and back again, a mix of disbelief and exasperation coloring his expression. “bloody hell,” he mutters, shaking his head. “how… how d’ye know that?”

you just shrug, catching ghost’s gaze for a brief second. there’s no clear expression there, but you swear there’s the slightest glint in his eyes, a hint of something only you seem to recognize. you don’t need words or explanations—you just know.

[avelera]

One of your posts mentioned something about viktor not truly acknowledging Jayce's workload when it came to him being a Councillor. Could you please elaborate on that?

Sure. I mean, maybe if I went back through and did an exhaustive rewatch, I'd find something to contradict the point, but as far as I can recall, the closest Viktor ever comes to saying that Jayce might be overworked is when he calls his time going over the shipping manifests for the Hexgates a waste of time because they should be working on innovations to help people in need (ie, Viktor obfuscating once again that he is dying and wants Jayce's urgent help but framing it in such a way that it sounds like a long-term societal problem instead of a short term personal one, so it goes right over Jayce's head).

And look, let me preface this by saying Viktor is actively dying at this point. He's sick, and in pain, and terrified, and he feels abandoned by the most important person in his life. I'm not saying it was wrong of him to not acknowledge Jayce's workload, or bad, or in any way not understandable. Jayce is an adult too and Viktor was definitely suffering more at that point than him.

But on one of many rewatches, I did note that when Jayce says, "Sorry, I have a lot on my plate lately." it is objectively true. And Viktor doesn't even acknowledge it. Being a full time councilor and promoting Hextech and working in the lab and trying to help Viktor and dealing with a civic crisis that could lead to outright civil war, etc etc everything else happening in S1, it's no wonder Jayce is snippy and on edge at the bridge, the guy should be on the edge of collapse quite frankly.

And Viktor doesn't care. He thinks Jayce's time on the Council is a waste of time, so he doesn't acknowledge the burden of it. That includes not acknowledging the fact that the Hexcore would have been destroyed and Viktor's one hope for a cure gone with it if not for Jayce's power and influence now. Jayce only became a Councilor to advance their research and help Viktor, but Viktor doesn't once acknowledge this and seems actively angry and jealous about it.

By the way, this isn't a case of one of them is right and the other is wrong, it's just a case of two very human people being human. It's very well written. But Viktor's lack of empathy for the challenges Jayce is facing means he's also not seeing how much of what Jayce is doing is for his benefit, how many burdens Jayce is taking on for Viktor's sake.

Viktor's emotional arc at the end of S1 includes a lot of feelings of abandonment by Jayce which are objectively not true. If he acknowledged Jayce's workload, he might also come to the realization that he's not abandoned, that Jayce is entirely focused on him just in different arenas. Maybe it would give Viktor the impetus to say "Hey, I don't want your help as a Councilor, I want your help in the lab because I'm scared and alone and dying and I'm about to make some very rash decisions because of all those feelings." Instead of just sucking it up and going it alone, which eventually leads to Sky's death and Viktor's collapse into utter hopelessness and resignation towards his own death.

And by the way, this isn't conjecture that Viktor is bad at seeing how much people around him care for him. Sky is another example of this. Viktor is so focused on extending his own life that, to paraphrase Heimerdinger in 2.07, he's not using the time he has to be with the ones he loves.

Later he will weep and rage at how he completely missed out on knowing Sky as a person, he completely missed out on knowing she cares for him. He'll craft an entire specter of her to keep him company as a result of this guilt in S2, because he can't live with the guilt of the fact he objectively missed out on spending time with the real woman when she was alive. And that is another version of what he's doing to Jayce in S1, by not seeing that Jayce isn't ignoring him, he's desperately trying to help in every way he can and the workload is burying him.

[happy74827]

Butterflies

[Harvey Specter x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You know you’re screwed when you feel them fluttering in your chest {GIF Creds: jeysuso}.

WC: 717

Category: Fluff

For all my Harvey lovers out there, I made a cute fluffy quickie (I’m seeing a lot of my fics being swarmed with love so why not add to it 🤗)

『••✎••』

It happened over a bottle of bourbon. A spilled bottle, actually. But a bottle of bourbon nonetheless, and that is important to note.

You didn’t mean to spill the alcohol all over your date, but he had made some comment about how you shouldn't be wearing a dress with a plunging neckline, so you just… happened to tip the entire thing over him.

The man was furious, of course, but he left pretty quickly after that. And you were left with a mess on the floor and a waiter hovering at the side, asking if you wanted another bottle.

You told him no. You just wanted to go home.

You didn't want a new date; you didn't want to sit at this stupid table with the stupid white tablecloth, the stupid, gaudy candlesticks, or the stupid waiter with the stupid, expectant look on his face.

"Miss?"

"No, thank you," you say, a little more firmly, gathering up your things and leaving as much cash as you can on the table. If you were smart, you'd have brought an umbrella, but you're not smart, so you'll just get drenched like an idiot.

But, fortunately for you, the person calling your name knew you well enough to know you weren’t that smart.

Before a drop of water could even hit your hair, a tall, dark figure steps out in front of you and blocks the downpour. Some might consider this a gentlemanly action, but you knew the man, and he was hardly ever gentle.

"You're welcome," Harvey says, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're a pain," you reply, but you're grateful for the cover.

"And you're dateless. So, I see two options: we can have dinner and a drink back at my place, or we can do dinner and a drink back at mine."

You can't help but laugh. "Did you use this on Scottie? I see why she left. That line was bad."

"You're not going to ask how I knew you were here?"

"Nope. You probably had Louis stalk me."

"Don't talk about the puppy like that."

"So you did have him stalk me!"

"I prefer the term 'make sure you were alright,'" Harvey replies, and he holds out his arm to you. "Guy was a douche. Let me buy you dessert to make up for it. And I don’t mean in the biblical sense, although that can be arranged, too, if you'd like."

"Harvey, you’re such—"

You turned to him, ready to tell him exactly what you thought of him, but the words died when you met his eyes. Those same eyes that allured you into taking his offer at Pearson Hardman. The same eyes that made you agree to work with him on the case despite your better judgment.

In a flash, you saw the whole thing: your first meeting, the cases, the laughs, the looks, the touches. And now, the moment.

When you were younger, the term butterflies had never really made sense to you. The idea of feeling them in your stomach seemed ridiculous, and yet, there you were, feeling them for the very first time.

They were all fluttering around inside of you, and all you could think was, "Oh, no."

And as if the universe had heard you, it suddenly stopped raining, and you both stood there in the middle of the street, the moon casting a warm light on your faces.

Harvey noticed it, too, and his expression softened. His usual cockiness was replaced with a gentle concern. "You okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "Yeah."

Harvey reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his hand lingering a moment longer than it needed to. He gave you that signature grin and asked, "You look like a velvet cake kind of girl. Am I right?"

He was right.

Goddamnit, he was right.

And as he swaddled you in his coat to keep you warm as you both went back inside, the anger and confusion you felt earlier melted into a quiet, warm glow.

Date night had not gone according to plan, but when his lips met yours and your hands slid through his soft, brown hair, you realized that, perhaps, sometimes, it was good to deviate from the plan.

The butterflies seemed to agree.

[acciotaitlynn]

Xavier following you around begging for forgiveness, interfering with your dates, etc after you break up with him because he chose mc to save instead of you but he regrets it now plzzzzzz? 🥺

Hiii! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ I hope it's okay that this is spicy! Xavikitty's got me really worked up 😩💦 This healed something in me fr. Thank you for requesting!

→ xavier༝you ꒰sylus is your bestie꒱

→ 18+, unprotected sex, vsex, marking/claiming, fingering, masturbation, oral;꒰fem!receiving꒱ angst, overstim, angel/baby/good girl used, ⋆˙⟡ reader is not mc from lads

→ wc: 9k

→ pt.2

It plays on an endless loop in Xavier’s head—he remembers pushing you into harm's way to protect her. He shuts his eyes, steeling himself as the memory flares up like a haunting specter, nausea twisting at its force.

How can he possibly make you understand? After countless lifetimes dedicated to protecting Mai, it’s become instinctual, as natural as breathing. He’s devoted himself to placing her life above all else, including his own, to the point where it requires no conscious thought. His body moves according to her needs, like weary clay molded to her unyielding will.

Typically, keeping her safe fills him with immense pride and joy. She’s the center of his existence—the one thing he’s never once regretted dedicating himself to.

He’s unsure when that began to change. Perhaps it was the first moment he laid eyes on you. He remembers it vividly… 

You stood beside Mai, the woman he’s always considered the most beautiful soul in the world, yet all he could see was you. A soft, surprised inhale escaped him as he caught your radiant gaze. Then his eyes wandered over your form, drawn to the uniform that hugged your curves in all the right places—curves that stirred a long-buried ache in him, a longing he’d almost forgotten existed.

Captain Jenna assigned you to the Unicorns team, instructing them to show you the ropes during your first few months. Much to Mai's dismay, Xavier took a shine to you. You both hit it off instantly, diving into animated discussions about books, video games, and anime that last for hours. 

Xavier changes around you. It's a stark contrast from his usual aloof demeanor; he becomes like an overeager puppy, radiating a cheerful, youthful energy that draws you in. You make him feel alive, his soul buzzing with excitement whenever you're around.

Then there's Mai. The lingering touches and flirtations between her and Xavier are familiar yet futile. He feels something for her—his body still heats up when she’s near, and the butterflies flutter in his stomach whenever she hugs him. But you? You make his heart race to the point where he can't think straight. You ignite a spark in him that he’s hesitant to acknowledge, filling him with light and hope. 

With Mai, it’s different. While she makes him happy, the constant chase for something unachievable cloaks their moments in a bittersweet melancholy, even during the brightest times. A nagging question lingers in his mind—is he starting to care for you so deeply that it’s overshadowing his feelings for her? Is that even possible?

Mai has consumed his thoughts and desires for as long as he can remember. He struggles to disentangle himself from her, even against his will. But ever since that first mission together, you’ve carved a place in his psyche that’s too significant to ignore. 

Unbeknownst to him, his changes around you are glaringly obvious. And you can't help but smirk at how annoyed it makes Mai. She does her best to keep you away from him, often splitting up during missions to maintain her hold. She sits closer to Xavier, throwing you daggers with her glares, her flirtations with him seemingly growing bolder by the day. 

Currently, her arm is draped over his shoulders as she whispers into his ear. As your eyes meet Xavier’s, warmth blooms in his gaze, only to falter when you quickly look away.

It’s only been three days since he pushed you in front of that wanderer without a second thought, pulling Mai away as though her safety was paramount. Mai executed her plan with precision, positioning herself between you and the threat when Xavier was distracted to force a choice upon him. It was meant to convey that he ultimately belongs to her.

You've asked him to avoid speaking to you unless it’s work-related, and even then, you prefer silence. His gentle voice feels like a sharp knife cutting deep into your resolve. Just one more month, and you can escape this toxic duo for good.

Watching Mai cling to him is torture—some sort of cruel cosmic punishment for an unknown transgression. Every place her hands linger is a spot you crave for yourself. Your desire for Xavier has burned since the moment you laid eyes on him. It’s evident he shares that longing, how his gaze roams over you when he thinks you’re not looking, and how he blushes fiercely at the simplest of touches.

You just don’t understand it. You know their heartbreaking history; Sylus filled you in. Giving up on something you've worked so hard for is a monumental challenge. Still, they don’t joke and laugh like you do. His eyes don’t light up for her the way they do for you; that deep cerulean gaze doesn’t trace her form with the same heat anymore. He no longer seeks her out or reciprocates her touches. In fact, he’d likely forget her entirely if she weren’t always throwing herself at him. 

So, why doesn’t he draw a line? Why won’t he create the boundary he so obviously needs? It’s maddening. 

You wish for the patrol minutes to fly by so you can escape, grab a few drinks, and retreat to the safety of binge-watching anime, where you can finally process your feelings. 

Your friend’s ringtone cuts through your frustration as Mai nuzzles into Xavier, earning a grimace from him as he pulls back slightly. The deep voice on the other end of your phone call soothes your irritation like crisp, smoky whiskey. 

“Sylus,” you breathe, relief washing over you at the welcome distraction. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now.

“You sound upset, sweetie. Is a certain naughty kitten causing you some frustration again?” he teases, referring to the skank currently toeing Xavier’s thigh. You glance around, taking in the scene around you, and it only intensifies your disgust. It's a crowded street, and she just pops her boot off and goes for it.

“It would be great if you could come take her away. for like, ever,” you mumble grumpily.

"But then you might miss me," he drawls, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"That's why video chat exists," you reply, rolling your eyes.

Mai knows exactly who’s on the other end of that line, but her confidence in your friendship with Sylus keeps her at ease. She knows you don’t stand in the way of her claim on him. Instead, she leans closer to Xavier, her fingers tracing lazy shapes along his arm, a suggestive grin plastered on her face. 

Yet it’s a futile effort. Xavier is hanging on your every word, his focus unwavering. His remains unreadable as you assure Sylus you'll arrive soon.

Finally, the clock strikes midnight. Unfortunately, you’ve ridden here with Mai, as your car is in the shop. You contemplate how to ask for a lift, but before you can gather the courage, Xavier swiftly breaks free from Mai’s grasp and gently guides you toward his car.

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Xavier!” Mai's voice drips with irritation as she tries to pull him back.

He dodges her intervention, a determined look in his eyes. “Don’t you need a ride?” he asks, keeping his gaze steady on you.

Mai’s stunned expression is almost comical, but Xavier doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. He’s not about to subject you to another awkward ride with her, especially when he can’t shake the unsettled feeling that gnaws at him at the thought of you having dinner with Sylus. How easily you seemed to relax upon receiving his call is driving Xavier mad. 

As Mai seethes next to her bike, Xavier’s focus remains ahead, his expression calm, but his grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled. You angle toward the window, crossing your arms and letting the scenery blur past. Irritation bubbles just beneath the surface, and you can’t help but murmur, “Escaping your master’s leash. Impressive.” 

He glances at you, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but then he turns his gaze back to the road, leaving the tension hanging in the air between you.

Sylus is waiting when you pull up, propped casually against the bar’s porch, with a cigarette in hand and a knowing glint in his eyes as he watches you arrive. Xavier seems poised to say something, but you hop out of the car before he can get the words out, striding straight past Sylus and tossing a casual “What’s up?” over your shoulder.

You miss the way Sylus shoots a glance at Xavier—a look that says, “You better behave.” He has no grudge against the hunter; Mai chose Sylus, so what was there for him to resent? That was until Xavier started hurting you.

“I seriously don’t understand what you see in her,” you mutter as Sylus takes a seat, prompting a chuckle from him and a playful ruffle of your hair.

“I find it all part of her charm,” he shoots back with a grin.

With an exasperated sigh, you focus on getting drunk enough to forget Xavier. That task feels daunting until Sylus volunteers for karaoke, his performance drowning out your worries. When he flops back down at the table, he wears a broad grin, eyes sparkling.

“Good, right?” he asks, confidence overflowing, and it takes all your restraint not to tease him.

He’s sensitive about his singing. So, you lean in with your best serious face. “So good, Sy. You’ve gotten even better!”

His ego balloons as he settles back into the booth, nodding appreciatively as he says, “Truly.”

Carmine eyes brightened by the drinks, his flushed face scans the room, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at how effortlessly beautiful he looks when he lets loose. Just once, you wish he’d look bad, allowing you to be the cute one in the friendship.

Noticing your irritated appraisal, Sylus chuckles, his arm draping over the booth. He shoots you a mock, severe look. “Better not let your hunter catch you looking at me like that, sweetie. Or Mai, for that matter.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Your head is getting bigger. Seriously, it might be wider than your shoulders by now.”

But his smile vanishes, replaced by concern as he studies you. “How are you holding up?”

Your gentle smile reflects your appreciation for his genuine concern. Sylus can be a pain, but he also knows how to be a great friend. “I’m okay, I guess. If your girl gets any more hands-on, though…” You narrow your eyes at him like it’s his fault. “Doesn’t it bother you that she’s all over him lately?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, tossing back a shot. “Sweetie, look at me, then at him—what’s there to worry about?”

Your scoff drips with sarcasm, enough to irk him. He raises an eyebrow and playfully kicks your ankle, smirking as you wince and curse loudly enough to catch others' attention. But soon, his worry returns, his voice softening as he tries to comfort you. “You know their history, dove. Surely, you can see that letting her go will be nearly impossible for him. I warned you about this.”

He did warn you, and you didn’t listen. Now you wish you had. You gave him a tender smile and a reassuring pat on his hand, murmuring, “I know. I just need time to accept it.”

Mission accomplished—both you and Sylus are sufficiently drunk as you head out, making plans for him to drop you off at your place. You’re busy teasing Mephisto, who’s perched on Sylus’s shoulder. His irritated nip catches your attention, and you notice Xavier’s car is still parked outside. 

Xavier knows you can see him, but you turn away, hopping on Sylus’s bike as he takes off. Guilt and irritation bubble within him as he hits the dashboard, cursing softly while watching you disappear into the distance.

When did he start hating Sylus for being near you rather than for being near Mai? As he contemplates, he realizes their relationship hasn’t bothered him lately. He’s certain he heard them banging last night from his apartment, and he couldn’t have cared less. All that consumed his mind was how to show you how sorry he is. 

After a while, his imagination ran wild, turning Mai’s cries of pleasure into thoughts of you, your sweet voice calling out in ecstasy.  His desire grew painfully as he imagined you beneath him, gripping himself tightly as he came hard enough to see stars, all while dealing with the guilt of betraying your trust.

Earlier, words had failed him, bound tight by guilt and nerves. He doesn’t know how to make you understand, but he has to try; the thought of seeing you in pain any longer is unbearable. The need to wrap you in his arms and kiss away that adorable frown grows stronger daily.

The hope of taking you home and getting a chance to try again disappears with your retreating silhouette. He groans in frustration, his head hitting the steering wheel as exhaustion trickles over him.

He’s an absolute mess. He can’t eat or sleep—two of his favorite things. Even meat doesn’t hold appeal right now. He’s miserable. 

Helplessly, he follows you and Sylus, watching your figures from his car as you sit in front of the TV.  Eventually, though, he leaves, knowing knocking on your door in the middle of the night to fall on his knees and apologize isn’t a realistic option unless he wants you to see just how much he’s falling apart over this.

At some point, you fall asleep, and Sylus covers you up before heading out. Both you and Xavier hope for relief in your dreams, but instead, your dreams are haunted by each other’s presence.

Mai has taken the day off to accompany Sylus on a business deal, and as much as you hate to admit it, you miss her. It would have been nice if Sylus had taken you along instead, leaving her here to make Xavier as miserable as you are.

Once upon a time, the thought of being alone with him on a mission filled you with excitement, practically keeping you awake the night before from sheer nerves. Now, you do your best to ignore him, walking just out of reach.

He kicks a rock, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. “We should head back soon; it’s getting late. We can look for the protocore again tomorrow.”

Guilt bubbles up in you at the melancholy lacing his voice. You nod and gesture toward a nearby Wanderer, saying, “Let’s take that one down and head out.”

The two of you fight seamlessly, your movements flowing together in a rhythm more exquisite than what he shares with Mai—something that seems to stun him every time. Without realizing it, he’s started gravitating toward you during battles, often having to forcibly pull himself back to her side.

A fresh pang of guilt gnaws at him, a feeling of drifting further away from what he’s always believed to be his purpose in life. He feels so lost, and there’s only one direction he longs to run in.

When did you become his guiding star?

The trip home is the most awkward car ride you’ve ever endured, the air thick with unease. You let out a long sigh, adjusting your seat as you turn up the volume on Mozart's Symphony No. 41, the "Jupiter" movement, hoping the music can cut through the oppressive silence. The soothing notes help ease Xavier's anxiety a bit, which in turn allows you to relax as the tension around you fades—if only slightly.

But as he parks in front of your place and kills the engine, the uncomfortable atmosphere returns with full force. Every part of you longs to bolt inside, terrified of the conversation that looms ahead. You know what’s coming. He’ll look at you with those beautiful, earnest eyes and say he’s sorry, genuinely believing it, but that apology will only sharpen the pain. If he genuinely cared, he wouldn’t have put you in harm’s way. If you mattered to him, he would have shown it when it counted.

You look away, remaining still in a silent invitation for him to speak.

His soft voice slices through the tension, murmuring, “I’m so sorry.”

Another wave of silence washes over you, anger surging beneath the surface—a force that takes all your strength to suppress. You shake your head in disbelief, your nails digging into your palms as you seek relief from the emotional turmoil. Pain to drown out the pain.

He notices, gently taking your hand, unfurling your fingers, and placing them back in your lap. Your body responds to his touch, a raw ache begging for more, while a part of you screams in frustration. Shooting him a glare, you cross your arms tightly, fighting against the tears welling up.

“Don’t touch me, Xavier.” Your voice is low and firm—an order that conflicts with the desperate plea of your heart, urging you to draw him closer.

His face falls, shoulders slumping as his hand drops to his lap. “Okay,” he whispers, the hurt in his voice cracking your heart a little more. You reach for him, then quickly pull back.

Searching your face, he pleads, “May I have a moment to explain? I know it won’t help, but—”

You grab your bag, cutting him off. “No need; Sylus took care of it. You chase her across the cosmos, hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t deserve you. I'm caught up. Thank you for the apology, though. Really,” you say softly, closing the door behind you. As you walk away, you can almost feel the weight of his regret lingering in the air.

A date at Meow’s Cafe, surrounded by adorable miniature cats, should be a delightful experience. Yet today, it feels heavy with the weight of Xavier’s absence. It’s your first time here without him, and everything is off; the playful mews of the kitties have lost their charm, grating on your nerves instead, while the usually vibrant atmosphere feels dull and lifeless.

The man sitting across from you is undeniably attractive, with dark, wavy hair, a chiseled jawline, and a smile that promises excitement and chaos. You can’t help but appreciate the way his fingers linger a moment too long on your skin or the longing glint in his eyes. Yet, the ache of Xavier’s absence lingers, casting a shadow over your attempts to enjoy the moment.

Excusing yourself to the restroom, you scrub your hands, your thoughts lingering on thoughts of him. Just as you’re about to shake the memories away, his soft voice—almost a whisper—brushes against your ear. “Does he play as well as me?”

You can almost feel the tension radiating from him, the palpable mix of frustration and jealousy. Xavier’s emotions swirl around him, creating a glow that’s impossible to ignore. Watching you with someone else, someone who seems to draw you in far too easily, has shattered something within him. 

As you turn, you’re startled to find him standing there, his presence commanding and intense. His cheeks are flushed, his breaths quickening, and his hooded blue eyes betray a storm of feelings: anger, grief, desire, and a potent possessiveness that sends a thrilling shiver down your spine.

You fight to maintain your composure, voice steady as you ask, “What are you doing here?” Tara set this date up for you just yesterday, assuring you that it would help you forget about Xavier. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

He closes the distance between you in a heartbeat, his lips grazing your cheek as he pushes you gently against the wall. For a moment, his tender touch makes you forget all about the boundaries you've set.

“What are you—”

He cups your cheek, kissing you so softly it nearly steals your breath away. “There aren’t words to express how sorry I am,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours, thumb brushing away your unshed tears as you stand frozen, torn between pushing him away and kissing him again.

You allow his lips to skim your neck, cursing your body’s betrayal when you feel an intense warmth spread through you at just the brush of his breath on your skin. 

“If I could do it over, I wouldn’t make the same choice,” he confesses, his eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. The truth in his words shakes him to his core—given another chance, he would choose you without hesitation.

Reality crashes over you, jarring you from his spell. You pull away, a sad, pitying look crossing your face. “Yes, you really would,” you reply quietly, determination solidifying your resolve as you stride out of the cafe with your date in tow.

Your date's name is Ash, but it feels irrelevant; he’s merely a means to an end, a warm body to help work out your frustrations. A pretty placeholder whose touch you imagine belongs to Xavier—a delicious fantasy until you accidentally murmur Xavier’s name, and the atmosphere grows awkward. 

Left alone, forced to find release on your own. Visions of Xavier’s cock filling you up while his beautiful gaze locks with yours consume your mind. You’re a mess of whimpers, chanting his name in a prayer that fills the stillness of your room as you ride an orgasm so powerful it borders on pain. Despite its overwhelming intensity, it does nothing to ease the ache that demands you give in to him, insisting on your claim in every way possible.

It disgusts you how you can still want someone who causes you so much pain, someone who can never care for you like you care for him. 

Your phone pings, lighting up with a message—from Xavier. He hasn’t texted you since that fateful mission, and you kick yourself at the happiness the sudden communication brings you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Next, a video comes through, sending your phone flying across the carpet as a shriek leaves you. Your hand claps over your mouth in shock, and you immediately rush to retrieve it, relentless desire flooding you at the image on the screen.

Xavier reclines on a sofa with his legs spread wide, his black button-up open to show off his lean, sculpted form. He frees his cock—so hard it looks painful. He must be super sensitive because the moment his hand wraps around himself, he lets out a needy little whimper that curls your toes.

You wish more than anything to take him in your mouth, to taste the pretty beads of precum that make his movements slick and sloppy.

Your stunned murmur of, “W-what is happening…” sounds so horrified and horny that it's comical.

Your fingers move almost of their own accord, slipping deep inside you to match his rhythm. You prop your phone up so your free hand can trail over your body, pinching and rolling your nipples as your breath quickens alongside his. You hate yourself for every touch, but you can’t stop. Your attention latches onto him and nothing else, unable to look away, even if what’s about to happen ends up ruining you. 

His grip firms instantly as if aware of your reaction, and he strokes himself faster. His head kicks back, his eyes slam shut, and a low groan escapes him. “I’m picturing myself inside you,” he admits, “Imagining laying claim to every inch of your body and soul.”

His gaze pierces through the camera, earnest and pleading, his blue eyes shining with unfathomable need.

“You think I wouldn’t make a different choice if given the chance, but you’re wrong. Besides fucking you, regret is a constant on my mind, relentlessly replaying as I watch myself make the stupidest choice of my life.” He lays his head back again, keeping his eyes on the camera as he languidly strokes himself, continuing, “Centuries of longing for and chasing after Mai, of dedicating my very existence to her, and then you come along and turn my entire world upside down with just a smile. You make me want to give up everything I believe in to be with you.”

His words trail off as his movements become frantic. With an incoherent mumble, he says, “I bet you’re so tight… so warm. Are you wet for me, angel? I hope so… W-will you cum with me?” The plea in his voice is unmistakable.

You whimper, nodding frantically, your pussy squeezing your fingers as his filthy words spur you on.

Your gaze flits over his body, unable to settle as your pleasure builds. He’s so pretty—his face flushed, sweat beading on his skin, his cerulean eyes burning bright. A whiny, needy repetition of your name leaves his lips as cum covers his hand and stomach, sending you hurtling into your own release.

Shame fills you when the pleasure subsides. His face moves closer to the camera, and he softly murmurs, “I really miss you,” effectively ripping your heart out and stomping on it before the video cuts off, an unsettling silence filling the air. You want to scream and cry, and most frustratingly, you want a second round with the most significant thing ever filmed.

A sudden realization hits you, and you groan, stuffing your face into a pillow with a muted scream. Work tomorrow is going to be so awkward.

Thank the gods your car is finally back from the shop. An immense sense of relief washes over you, knowing you won’t have to endure another ride with Xavier after what happened last night—or, possibly even worse, with Mai.

However, that relief quickly evaporates as you arrive at work and see Xavier striding toward you. He boldly brushes your hair back and leans in close, whispering, “Did you enjoy yourself last night? I know I did,” his smile warm and inviting.

He takes your chin and tilts your face, his voice soft as he confesses, “I’ve never felt so good. Not even at the thought of Mai.” You squeak in surprise, instinctively pulling away.

Xavier has decided he’s done fighting his feelings for you. The hesitation about the changes this could bring to his life—and the guilt that comes with it—is gone. He wants you more than anything, and now he’s determined to show you just how much.

As you walk side by side on patrol, his soft voice fills the air with light-hearted musings and playful teasing, yet you constantly remind yourself why you must keep your distance.

Meanwhile, Mai glares daggers from behind, trying desperately to distract Xavier at every opportunity. She attempts to hold his hand at one point, batting her lashes with a cute little pout. But he quickly pulls away, brushes your arm tenderly, and continues walking by your side. 

A warmth spreads in your heart, and you can’t help but worry about how easily he’s breaking down the walls you’ve built around yourself.

Mai’s cheerful voice grates on Xavier’s nerves as he struggles to finish his paperwork for the day. The office is empty now, and he’s itching to leave, his mind consumed with thoughts of seeing you.

Mai pulls up a chair, pretending to help him, but her true intentions are clear when she rests her hand on his thigh, continuing to write as if it’s the most natural thing. Her fingers begin their creeping ascent, and Xavier’s heart races. His body locks up, and anxiety rises as the ability to breathe leaves him. 

Mai has always been flirty, something he used to find endearing, even if it was just a ruse to keep him coming back for more. But this was more than suggestive flirtation. When she presses her lips to his for the first time, she sighs as if kissing him brings her true joy.

How many times has he longed for this? Centuries of wishing for this moment—and he feels nothing at all. 

Xavier pulls back with a pained expression, searching her beautiful eyes. He makes no move to stop her, testing how he truly feels. After so much effort and heartbreak over wanting, no, needing this and Mai, he has to be sure before giving it all up.

Her fingers trail delicately over his abs and chest. He lets her kiss him again; this time, Xavier kisses back, trying to coax out some emotion other than this empty void. Kisses trail his skin as she frees his cock, only to pull back in disbelief when she feels his lack of arousal.

He watches her with detachment as she strokes him, pouting when he remains limp in her hand. Gently stopping her as she moves to take him into her mouth, he says, “I can’t do this anymore,” his voice soft but resolute, as a weight lifts from his shoulders.

Mai narrows her eyes, her mask slipping momentarily as she murmurs, “Xavier, you don’t truly want her. You’re just so pent up after all these years that anyone will do,” her veil of teasing returns as she leans closer, urging, “Let me help. This is what you’ve always wanted, right?” 

She frees her breasts from her tank top, squeezing and tugging enticingly. This isn’t the girl he fell in love with—the gentle, kind soul that captured his heart so long ago. Over her lifetimes, she’s become cold and cruel, the alluring brightness in her eyes dimming with time. Xavier realizes he’s been chasing someone who no longer exists, a profound grief washing over him.

Taking out his phone, he finds a picture of you and shows it to Mai as she scowls. Pushing her hand away, he murmurs, “You have no idea what I want. Watch.”

Gazing at your smiling face on the screen, he begins stroking his cock, becoming painfully hard within moments, lust shadowing his features. Mai’s eyes burn with genuine desire and jealousy, but he feels nothing for her.

Tucking himself back into his boxers and fixing his pants, he asks, “Did you throw yourself in front of that Wanderer to lure me into saving you?” This question has nagged him whenever the scene replays in his mind. 

He’s almost certain Mai wasn’t near you when he began the battle, only to find her next to you when the Wanderer attacked. The chaos made it difficult for him to be sure.

The answer becomes clear when Mai clears her throat, quickly glancing away. Nervousness plays on her features as Xavier takes on a chilling demeanor, standing and collecting his paperwork with meticulous movements. Any remaining connection to her ignites and burns away as he regards her coldly, fighting hard to maintain his composure. 

“I’ll be requesting a transfer for both her and myself. In the meantime, don’t even look in her direction,” Xavier says, his calm tone carrying an underlying warning: there will be consequences if she crosses the boundary he’s setting. Adjusting her top, shame, and embarrassment on her features, Mai watches as Xavier turns and walks away. 

Your phone pings as you slip into an oversized T-shirt, and the screen lights up with a message from Sylus: “Looks like you won the game, dove. My money was on you all along,” complete with a celebratory champagne bottle emoji.

What the heck is that supposed to mean? 

You’re about to hit the call button to get an explanation when a knock at the door reveals a rain-soaked Xavier. His eyes light with relief upon seeing you. You let him in, grabbing a towel and doing your best to help him dry off, earning a gentle smile as you fluff his hair. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, pulling away and searching his face.

His fingers brush your cheek tenderly as he nods and says, “If I were to ask you to leave Linkon with me, what would you say?”

Your eyes widen as you sputter, “Um, I—like for the day?” 

He gives you a rare, genuine smile, then chuckles as he replies, “No. Like forever. Together.” He kisses you tenderly and nuzzles your nose. “We can start over somewhere new,” he whispers earnestly.

You want to believe such a thing is possible, but doubt lingers, pulling you away from his embrace. “Xavier… you don’t mean that. Mai—” 

“Is no longer part of my life,” he finishes. Gripping you by the waist and drawing you closer, he tilts your head to meet his gaze.“I don’t care how long it takes to prove it to you. I’m a very patient man,” he murmurs.

“How exactly do you plan to prove it to me?” you ask, your voice low and sensual, surprising even yourself.

You adore the way Xavier’s eyes heat up when he hears it. He hums softly, his lips brushing your ear while one arm holds you close, his fingers tracing down your arm to entwine with yours. When he kisses you this time, your body aches to melt against his, but you stand your ground, determined to make him fight for it. His tongue gently explores your mouth, groaning as he tastes you fully, cupping your cheek and deepening the kiss.

He pulls back and studies you, his thumb grazing your lips, admiring how they glisten as he spreads the moisture around. “So pretty…” he murmurs, his mouth skimming the soft skin under your ear, teeth grazing lightly, sending shivers through your body.

His brows scrunch in a pout as he reaches for your hands that hang limply at your sides, “Why won’t you touch me?” he asks, hurt evident in his tone.

“I’m not sure you deserve it yet,” you mumble, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I see,” he says with a hint of amusement.

Slowly, his touch travels under your shirt, teasing your nipple with light sweeps of his thumb. His mouth and hands explore every inch of your skin he can reach, worshiping you so delicately it takes your breath away. 

“Xavier?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to see you,” you admit, nervousness spilling into your voice.

Xavier’s throat bobs as he nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he sheds his clothing. At first, he’s hesitant, afraid you may not like what you see.

It’s a silly fear since he’s the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen. Lean and slender, his body is honed by centuries of combat, the faint scars on his pale skin testifying to trials overcome. Your hungry eyes catch on his cock, so long and pretty that you moan quietly, just thinking about how good it would feel to take it.

The look of pure longing on your face instantly eases Xavier’s insecurities. His thumb sweeps over his cock, gathering beads of precum before he holds it to your mouth, a plea evident in his eyes. You want to remain strong, but the desire to taste him overpowers you. You suck it clean, your eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. His cock twitches eagerly as a strangled “fuckk, angel” escapes him, his thumb pumping deeply into your mouth as he bites his puffy lip. 

“May I see you too?” he asks quietly, fingers tracing the hem of your shirt. You nod and let him pull it off, fighting the urge to cover yourself as your nipples perk in the chilly air. The way his gaze travels your body is so sensual and awe-filled that it’s almost devastating.

His hands tangle in your hair as he tilts your head, his kiss far more profound than any before. He presses you against the wall, trailing kisses down your stomach and along your inner thighs before pulling your shorts down. A groan escapes him when he sees your bare pussy. 

Instantly, he thumbs open your folds, dragging long, languid fingers through your heat before holding his hand up for you to see. “So wet,” he murmurs, rubbing it around and watching it stick to his fingers. “Is this all for me? he asks, wonder filling his voice. 

You nod, whimpering pitifully as he licks them clean, his eyes shutting in ecstasy at your taste. A desperate curse leaves him as he commands,  “Spread your legs then; I can’t let any go to waste.” You do as he says, whimpering again as his fingers trace delicate circles over your clit. “You’ve done so well for me, angel… practically dripping. You’ll feel amazing like this.” Then his tongue is deep in your cunt, eagerly lapping up your arousal with a deep groan against your skin that shocks your entire system. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair without hesitation, holding his face firmly in place as you grind against it. His straight nose brushes your clit with every turn of your hips, sending waves of pleasure through you. He kneels before you, and his gaze is unwavering as he slips a finger inside you, his lips and teeth teasing your slick, warm skin. Xavier loves how puffy your clit gets under his mouth and how sensitive you are to even the slightest of his touches.

He yearns to be closer to you, to be enveloped in your warmth and your scent as you cum in his mouth. Guiding you to the couch, he lies down and motions for you to come closer. “Use my face,” he commands softly, his voice laden with desire as he finishes. “I want to enjoy my meal.”

He eases you over him, his mouth inhaling you eagerly. Growing frustrated that you won’t put all your weight on him, he pushes you down so your pussy lands flush on his face. “Good girl,” he mumbles against you, urging your hips along. At first, you’re concerned about his ability to breathe, but the worry quickly vanishes as he teases your nipples and plays with your ass.

He whimpers as your fingers finally begin to trace his skin, his hips making needy pumps into the air, desperately seeking friction. Your touches are so tender, your gaze full of adoration, and a giddy smile spreads across your face at the sight of his slick-covered features.

You run your hands lovingly through his hair, the look on your face causing him to fall apart. He lets out a strangled cry that vibrates through your pussy as his cum covers his stomach. He sucks your clit harder, fingers pumping into you rapidly as you ride his face.

“Yes, yes, yess!” you shout, hand gripping his hair tightly while the other reaches around to play in his essence, coating his sensitive, twitching cock as he whimpers quietly. You can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed as you turn into an absolute slut above him. It’s just so deliciously indecent. 

He’s so sticky from his release, shimmering with sweat and the faint glow of his evol. His face and ears are flushed, your essence covering his mouth and chin. He gazes up at you with so much desire as you bring your soaked fingers to your mouth, tasting them slowly.

The moment he feels your tight walls flutter around his fingers at his taste, he replaces them with his tongue, devouring every bit of your cunt. Even after he cleans all your cum, he refuses to stop. He pulls you tighter against him, forcing your hips to move until you whine and tremble uncontrollably above him.

“T-too much, Xavier, pleasee,” you mumble desperately, tugging at his hair. He chuckles softly and sits up, letting you rest. You settle on his lap as he leans back against the sofa, giving you a gentle smile, his lips still wet and shiny. Your touch is uninhibited now, free from hesitation as your fingers map his skin. 

He’s so responsive. Just the gentlest of touches elicit the most adorable, most sensual sounds. Your fingers ghost over a perked nipple, earning a strangled groan in return. His head kicks, and his hands form tight fists as he tries to show restraint.

You meet his eyes, your voice soft as you ask, ‘Xavier… have you ever felt truly cared for and cherished before?” 

You want to cry and rage when he blushes and turns away, whispering “no” as pain briefly crosses his features. 

Cupping his face, you kiss him tenderly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. “I promise, you’ll never have to spend another day without knowing how loved you are,” you vow earnestly.

His eyes widen in surprise as he silently mouths the word “love,” as if trying to see how it feels on his tongue. “No one’s ever said that word to me before,” he admits quietly.

You smile gently, meeting his gaze. “Well, try saying it out loud next time. You need to get used to it.” Your lips find his again, gentle and searching, conveying all the emotions too scary to put into words just yet. You bite and suck at his neck, teasing relentlessly when his body betrays how good it feels. 

You work a faint mark on his collarbone, admiring it with a brush of your fingers as you quietly ask, “Are you really all mine?” Your awe-filled gaze meets his. He pulls you close, cupping the nape of your neck and murmuring, “Yes,” against your lips. A smile lights up your face, mirrored by his beaming expression as he witnesses your joy.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says earnestly, brushing your hair over your shoulder.

You roll your eyes with a teasing grin and mumble, “Don’t push it,” before silencing his words by pressing your tongue into his mouth. He pulls away after a moment, biting his lip as he forces himself to be gentle, playing with your breasts. Little tugs and pinches over one nipple while the other hand traces your curves.

It’s not nearly enough.

“I won’t break, Xavier. You need to do it harder,” you plead, frustration filling your voice.  Your plea is soon replaced with a surprised, strangled cry when he murmurs, “Yes, mam,” and stuffs his mouth full, biting and sucking roughly.

His touch turns rougher, too. His fingers squeeze your ass so hard they’ll surely leave marks, complimenting the bruise blooming on the swell of your breast. 

“All mine,” he says, meeting your eyes with a teasing, confident smile as he echoes your earlier sentiment. You squeak in surprise as he grabs your thighs and presses down, sliding you along his cock, using your pussy to smear his cum around, soaking your heat and thighs in slickness.

You take over, hips moving faster, desperately seeking more of the pleasure he’s bringing you. 

“You’re so soft and warm…” you murmur dreamily, ruining him when you finish with a whimper of, “Gonna feel so good filling me up,” before burying your face in his neck as you move against him.

“Can I put it in? Please?” he begs, lifting your ass just enough to rub circles with his leaking tip at your entrance. He’s trembling, holding back the urge to fuck you roughly. Instead of answering, you lower yourself onto him, wincing as his cock stretches you open. 

He can’t take his eyes away from where you join, watching you drip down his length as he delicately rubs your clit, his eyebrows scrunched up in an adorable expression of concentration. 

“Does it hurt?’ he asks, noticing your quiet gasp of pain as you take him halfway. You nod, whimpering slightly. He leans up to kiss you, pressing down on your bottom lip and tilting your chin to meet your blissed-out gaze. “You’re still so tight, angel. I’ll open you up better next time, I promise.” He nuzzles your nose, trying to distract you from the pain as he pushes in deeper.“Can you take it for me? I-i’m almost there,” he says, his eyes trickling back down to where you suck him in.

Pleasure begins to mix seamlessly with the pain, and you don’t bother to respond, your eyes rolling back as a sigh of ecstasy leaves you. Xavier takes that as a yes and gently presses you down until he bottoms out. Desire begins to overwhelm his features as he watches your essence mix with his at the base of his cock.

He searches your eyes, kissing you softly and murmuring, “How does it feel?” 

“Honestly? Nothing has ever felt so good. So full…” you mumble, starting a slow, torturous cycle of movements. You pull him out to the tip before letting him fill you up again, over and over, until the moment comes when he finally allows himself to let go. He presses you flush against him and pushes deep inside you, setting his own much more intense pace. He spanks your ass with an adorable smile, his blue eyes shining with joy. 

You eagerly match his movements, chanting, “Harder, Xavier! Harder!” You squeal happily when he flips you onto your back, throwing your legs above your head and fucking you so much harder. A mirthful smile appears on his face as his cock pierces deep inside you, forcing out a raw, strangled cry of pleasure. Pleasure builds and crashes in an instant, your pussy gripping and pulsing so tightly around him that he can barely breathe.

“That’s it, baby, cum all over me,” he praises, stroking your clit in time with his thrusts. His pace quickens, helping you ride your release. Sloppy sounds fill the air as you spill over him, spurring him on. He grips your hips tight to keep you from sliding as he fucks into you relentlessly.

“Such a good girl. You can give me another one, can’t you?” he murmurs, his weight pressing down on you, pushing his cock even deeper than before. The soft, pale hair trailing from his pelvis rubs your clit just right. His moves are deliberate, urging you to come again with a sharp cry as tears fill your eyes and your body starts to tremble. 

He kisses your cheek, his movements never slowing. “So perfect for me… Just one more, angel,” he whispers, making pointed thrusts into your g-spot over and over and over until you spill all over him again. 

He can’t seem to stop. Every orgasm he pulls from you only makes him more desperate and needy. “So fucking wet… you have no idea how good you feel,” he mumbles incoherently, burying his face in your neck and bringing you to release again just from the feeling of his warm mouth on your skin and his filthy words. 

“T-too much, Xavier, I can’t! Please!” You’re sobbing and overstimulated—a sensitive, weak mess. 

“Shh. It’s okay… It’ll be over soon. You want to show me how much you love me, right?” His tone is teasing, but the sincerity in his eyes tells you your answer means a lot to him. 

Tears fall harder as he kisses you, and you manage to choke out a strangled “yes.” 

“I know you do,” he says tenderly. His tongue pries open your mouth and softly commands, “Swallow,” as he spits into it. 

Blushing deeply,  you follow his instructions, moaning in ecstasy at the taste, which earns a pleased hum from him. He tugs on your bottom lip, admiring your blissful expression and the tears tracing your cheeks. His praises continue, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again. 

“Such a pretty little angel, following my instructions so well.” Another orgasm approaches alarmingly fast, feeling almost too powerful, and you wonder if your body can withstand it. Xavier seems to read your mind because he mumbles, “You can,” before fucking you even harder. 

You squirt so much that it pulls out a strangled, “Fuck, yes. You’re doing so fucking well…” from him as his cock squelches around inside you. “I–i can’t hold out much longer. You… you feel too good,” he admits softly against your lips.

 “Please, Xavier... Please cum for me, i–i’ll do anything,” you plead, needing to feel claimed by him more than you can express. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you murmur, “Do you want to finish inside?” pulling him as close as you can. 

He whimpers at your words, cradling your head against his chest as his cock continues to fuck into you mercilessly. The moment his hips stutter and he sinks into you with one last, deep thrust, his cum spills inside of you, and he captures your lips in the most tender kiss you’ve ever felt. Despite reaching his climax, he doesn’t stop. His cock pistons into you with renewed force.

With fierce determination, he pulls one final orgasm from you, his movements gradually slowing as you ride through it. As soon as he pulls back and looks at your ruined form beneath him, lust clouds his features, and his cock hardens again. Anxiety hits you over the state of your more-than-abused pussy, and you whine, “Noo, Xavier—just let me take care of you for a little while. ’m too sensitive.” 

He chuckles, scooping you up in his arms and resting back on the couch. You try to fight the arousal his hardened length pressing against your ass brings. He meets your gaze, kissing you softly and holding you close as your heartbeats grow steady. He peppers your face with gentle, searching kisses. 

“Earlier, I asked you how you felt about leaving Linkon with me,” he says, tucking hair behind your ear as nervousness plays on his face. 

“Mhmm; the forever trip,” you murmur dreamily. 

He smiles softly, meeting your gaze, and asks, “So, what’s your answer?” 

You nuzzle his nose and answer earnestly, “I’ll follow you anywhere, Xavier. Just lead the way.”

A month later, you wake up before dawn to find Sylus’s face just inches from yours, a wry grin on his lips as he glances at Xavier sleeping beside you. “I took your key away specifically to prevent this kind of thing,” you hiss, careful not to wake Xavier as you untangle yourself from his limbs and quietly climb out of bed.

You gently brush his hair back, marveling at how his smile lingers even in sleep now. The melancholy that once plagued him for centuries has vanished, replaced by a serenity brought by your affection. He often tells you that you make him feel truly happy and free for the first time in his life. 

After pulling on a robe, you follow Sylus to the kitchen, halting in your tracks when you see a brand-new laptop on the counter. “Sy, what did you do?” you ask hesitantly, eyeing the device with suspicion. He rolls his eyes and motions toward it.

“What does it look like, sweetie?” he retorts, as if that clears everything up.

“Why did you buy me a laptop, Sylus? You know I don’t like gifts…” you start, but he quickly interrupts.

“Well, you should have thought about that when you decided to move several hours away from me,” he replies. You can sense he’s happy for you and Xavier, but there’s a hint of struggle with this change in your relationship.

Drawing him close, you pinch his cheeks, enjoying the irritated glare he gives you. “You’re my best friend, Sylus. I’m not just going to up and leave you after all these years,” you assure him, giving his nose a gentle boop before turning away.

He chuckles, relaxing a fraction as he ruffles your hair and then refocuses on the task at hand. “I bought you the best one on the market. They assured me it has an excellent camera—I need to ensure that my pretty face comes through crystal clear during our video chats,” he says with a teasing grin.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” he adds, casually pulling a new, shiny smartphone from his pocket and handing it to you. “Both this and the laptop come with a tracking system that alerts me immediately if anything seems off,” he assures you, gently grasping your chin to meet your gaze. “Never hesitate to reach out for my help or just for company. I’m here for you, no matter how far away you are. Got it, dove?”

You want to tease him for being so serious, but his sincerity makes it difficult. It’s a rare and precious thing from him. With a gentle smile and tears welling up in your eyes, you pull him in for a tight hug. He freezes for a moment in surprise, but then his arms wrap around you, a smile spreading across his face as he swings you around.

When your feet settle back on the floor, the sadness has melted from his features. “The laptop has top-notch sound specs, too, so I can still sing to you when you’re feeling down,” he reassures you. It takes considerable effort to suppress the grimace that threatens to break your mask of enthusiasm.

Sylus lets out a low, knowing chuckle, easily seeing through you. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to fake that better over video,” he muses.

You grin and look around your empty home, excitement coursing through you. The transfer request with the Hunter’s Association went through almost immediately, and Xavier found a charming cottage with a small farm, plenty of bookshelves, and just enough room for the two of you. Sylus can’t help but smile at your evident joy. “Today’s the big day,” he teases.

You nod, your grin widening as he raises an eyebrow and offers a suggestive head toss. “You should wake your precious hunter now. You’ve got a lot to do,” he says.

Giggling, you pull him down to plant a kiss on his cheek, earning a blush that makes you laugh even harder. Then, you dash off to wake Xavier.

[fairysluna]

HERE AGAIN

43. “Go on ride my thigh.” WITH HARWIN

knight in shining armor.

When the Red Keep is attacked, Ser Harwin is the one in charge of your protection. Spending the night by your side, he finds it hard to keep his emotions under control.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Harwin Strong x Targ!Fem!Reader.

TAGS — fluff (a bit too much, I'm sorryy), smut —thigh riding, nipple play, oral fixation, praise, virgin!reader, dirty talk—, sexual tension, descriptions of nudity, mentions of blood and violence, murder. If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — small context: here the dance of the dragons doesn't happen, Rhaenyra never fucked Harwin and the greens and blacks are a lovey dovey family. Long live fanfiction for this. A big, big thank you to @bucknastysbabe for beta reading this!! Ilysm!!🤍

My baby bel, i think i put a bit too much fluff into the mix while writing this, but i hope you like it and enjoy it. Ilyy🤍

WORD COUNT — 3.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

A thunderous sound woke you up from your peaceful slumber. By looking around in the darkness of your chambers, you could tell something was wrong; a strange atmosphere appeared in the air, something odd that brought an inexplicable chill in your spine. You arose from your bed, walking barefooted towards the nearest window and peeking outside - the cold wind that entered the room sent shivers through your body, causing goosebumps to arise across your skin. It had to be the hour of the Wolf, you could barely see a thing.

There was a group of guards marching towards the entrance of the Red Keep; you heard them bellow, but you were not able to make sense of their words. They ran from one side to another, picking up their swords and shields, giving commands to one another. You grew curious to know the reason behind such a fuss and the answer came quicker than you expected. While you were observing a knight standing beside the arsenal and keeping guard on the perimeter, another man silently approached him- wearing all black, camouflaging in the darkness of the night.

A small part of you told you to look away, but you stood there - eyes fixed on the guard. Curiosity killed the cat.

Out of the blue, the black-clad specter reached for the knight, and before you could discern what the man had done to him, you saw red flooding out under the moonlight - staining his prestigious white cloak. You froze in your place as you saw the guard falling to his knees before his entire body reached the dirt on the floor. The air escaped from your lungs as you witnessed such a gruesome scene, feeling your heart beating frantically in reaction.

It only became worse once the unknown man looked up, right at your window. Right at you, steely eyes glinting.

Immediately, you took a few steps back - your hand covering your mouth and muffling a squeal as soon as you realized what had happened. Chills traveled around your body, and before you realized, your cheeks were soaking with tears of horror and fear. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your chest feeling heavy and tight. That man saw you, he would certainly come after you now.

Your feet kept moving, eyes fixed in the window as you walked backwards, as far as possible from that frightening scene. In that moment, you felt your back hit something cold and hard before two strong arms wrapped around your body and squeezed you between them. You yelped, screaming hysterically with the thought that it will be your turn now - squirming desperately as you tried to be freed from the arms of the person who was holding you down.

Then you heard his voice.

“Princess, it's me!” The familiar voice exclaimed, loosening the grip around your body and allowing you to turn around to see him. He removed his helmet, throwing it onto the floor. “It's me, my sweet princess,” he repeated, this time more calm and with a soothing tone in his timbre. He placed his big, calloused hand on your cheek.

The relief washed over you as you saw your beautiful knight in shining armor standing before you, tense shoulders instantly relaxing as you locked your lilac eyes with his deep brown ones. His gaze was soft, but it still showed signs of his preoccupation for you. His thumb brushed against your skin, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face. You leaned towards his touch and he sighed.

“You're safe with me,” Ser Harwin murmured. “Everything will be okay…” His impressive frame towered over your smaller one; you had to look up at him as your hand wrapped around his wrist.

Harwin was taken aback once he felt your trembling arms wrapping around his armor. You hung from his neck as he picked you up from the floor. One of his hands held your waist, while the other went to your nape - keeping you close to him. The coldness of the metal was pressing against your cheek, and you closed your eyes - silently crying against his shoulder. Your heart fluttered inside your chest once he tightened his grip around your body; you felt safe in his arms.

“Shh… it's fine,” he cooed against your ear. His lips pressed against your head. “No one will hurt you if I'm with you, princess. No one will harm you.”

“What happened? What's going on?” you asked between sobs.

“Some miscreants managed to go through the gates, they're now being secured in the black cells. They’re trying to find those who are inside the Keep,” he explained while he slowly put you back on your feet - a soft whine involuntarily left your lips once you stopped feeling his warmth. “I've come as soon as I heard.”

“Is my family safe? My mother, my siblings? Rhaenyra and the children?”

“They are all being guarded by members of the king's guard,” Harwin replied.

You nodded before you took a look around his face, as if you were trying to search for some wound - just in case he needed your help. “Are you hurt?” A little smile appeared on his handsome face once he noticed your worry. “Did- did they hurt you?”

“No,” he answered. “And you shall not worry about me, princess…”

You pressed your lips in a thin line before murmuring - a bit embarrassed, “you know I'll always worry about you.”

Harwin paused to take a look at you; his heart beating fast with the mere sight of you, feeling like a green boy whenever you were around, staring up at him with those pretty, sparkling eyes of yours. So beautiful, so precious. It was no secret between you two that your feelings had flourished like roses in Spring. Yet, even when the deep affections were obviously mutual, both of you were scared to act on it. It was forbidden, and - somehow - that made it even more tempting for both. How scandalous, King Viserys daughter has the Hand’s son as a paramour.

“Mayhaps your royal highness should go back to sleep,” Harwin suggested. “On the morrow all this would be just a faint memory.”

“I don't think I will be able to do it,” you told him, taking a step back and wiping your tears away. “I lost all my sleep with what I've just seen…it was awful, terrible…”

Harwin approached you again as he noticed your despair - your voice breaking in the middle of your words and your eyes glistening once again by a layer of new tears. He cupped your face, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks.

“It's okay, my sweet angel,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours - you closed your eyes. His closeness made your heart beat faster, and the syrupy way the name that came out of his plump lips almost caused you to sigh. “Come here, let's sit down for a second, alright?” Harwin motioned.

Obediently, you grabbed his hand as he guided you through your room, finding a comfortable spot in the large settee right in the middle of your chambers. Once Harwin turned around, he finally noticed what you were wearing; a thin see through nightgown. His eyebrows twitched and mouth went dry. He knew that the right thing was to look away, give the privacy you needed - yet he couldn't manage to take his eyes off of you, his lovely princess. He followed a path from your face, going downwards towards your neck and collarbones - he even imagined how they would look with small marks from his lips printed on them. He continued shamelessly eyeing you, finding your breasts; he felt his throat getting dry once he noticed your pebbled nipples peeking through the white fabric of your nightgown. His mouth watered, resisting the urge to think how they would feel against his tongue. Unexpectedly, he felt his pants getting tighter.

That's when he knew that enough was enough. You were a princess; his princess. You deserve the utmost respect. He couldn't allow himself to think of you in that way, especially on a night like this one.

Harwin cleared his throat, sitting down on the couch and tapping the empty spot by his side - once again, you obeyed. Your body curled by his side, clinging into his armor, laying your head on his chest as his arm went around your shoulder to keep you close. You squirmed a bit, trying to make sense of the feeling between your legs - the one that grew more intense once you noticed the desire on his eyes.

“Close your eyes, try to rest. I'll be here when you wake up,” he promised.

You nodded, making yourself comfortable and doing what he told you to do - and you really tried, yet it seemed impossible for you to take that horrid image off your mind. Your whole body would tremble with the thought of being murdered in the same way. Each time you would close your eyes, that was all you could see. It was torturous, a bone chilling fear that didn't let you rest.

That scarlet blood seeping down white cloth played over and over again in your racing mind.

Before you noticed, you were sobbing again. Harwin, chivalrous as always, grabbed your quivering body and placed you on his lap, rocking your body from side to side as a desperate attempt to try and calm you down. It wounded him to see you like this, so scared and defenseless - he even wondered what he could do to make your anguish go away.

“He saw me… he'll come and try to- to kill me!” you whined - your lower lip shaking uncontrollably. “I cannot- I cannot stop thinking about it all.”

Growing up as a princess left you inside a bubble. Behind the thick walls of the castle you never had to watch or see something as such - the evilness of people. Harwin has always told you that you had a pure heart and soul, always oblivious to the wrongdoings of the people. You never knew how cruel people truly were, and now that you saw it you couldn't stop thinking about it.

“Nothing will happen to you, not if I'm here,” Harwin softly whispered. “I will always protect you, my precious angel.”

But then he thought of his words again; he might protect you from the enemies, from the dangers of the world, but how was he supposed to protect you from the torment that was caused by your own mind? How could he possibly make you forget about it?

He knew the answer, but he knew it was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Come here.” Harwin invited you to sit on his lap. In any other occasion you would doubt a bit before assenting to do it, but in that moment all you wanted was to feel safe, to feel him against you as he got rid of all your fears with his mere presence - you couldn't resist.

His hands grabbed your hips as he lifted you up and motioned you until you were sitting on top of him - your arms around his broad body as you laid on his shoulder. His hands went to your head, his fingertips softly caressing your scalp while he soothed you again.

For him, it was quite hard to ignore the fact that the only thing in the middle of your nudity was a thin piece of fabric that did nothing to hide your body. He could see it, but you could feel it. At first you just sighed - the coldness of the metal covering his thigh would touch the heat between your legs, which was growing more intense with every passing second. You shivered, holding back a gasp when you accidentally moved your hips.

Out of the sudden, a thunderous sound similar to the one that woke you up was heard again. Your body jumped due to the shock, and your eyes widened with terror.

“Harwin…” you mumbled his name, almost as if you were begging him to make it stop, even when you knew he couldn't do anything more than stay by your side.

“Look at me, Princess,” he replied, his voice becoming slightly raspy as his big hands went to your hips. You felt how he started to pull your nightgown upwards - he had given up his hesitation to do this, defiling the pure little angel. How your doe-eyes and small body contrasted against his large frame, Strong was ensnared. The knight no longer fought against the carnal urges. He needed to take your mind elsewhere, and this was the only way he could think of. You tried to look down as he kept pulling the only layer of clothes that would cover your body - the only thing that separated your warmth from the coldness of the metal on his thigh, and he grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “Don't look away from me, angel…”

You obeyed, slightly parting your lips as the fabric brushed against your flesh, and once your cunt was laying naked on top of his leg, you felt a shiver running down your spine. Harwin’s honeyed gaze did not tear from your face at any moment, reluctant to see your most vulnerable places. He felt unworthy of it. He wasn't going to see you, he wasn't going to touch your vulnerable petals - he was just going to let you use him as you please.

“Ser Harwin…” you repeated his name in a gasp as his hands moved your hips on top of him. Gentle movements at first, just to see how you would react; that's when you moaned, feeling metal rubbing directly against your clit. It felt odd, but extremely good.

“Don't stress your mind any further,” he whispered, almost feeling breathless. “Forget about everything, just focus on what you feel…”

With your eyes closed, you placed your hands on his shoulder in order to find some stability when he slightly quickened the pace. The whimper that left your lips would be carved in Harwin’s mind forever, haunting his nights and increasing his need for you. You were there, in front of him looking so angelic, yet so sinful - he was tightening his grip on your hips, digging his fingertips on your flesh as a desperate attempt to hold back; the urge to rip that nightgown was almost unbearable. He needed to touch you, even when it was awfully wrong to do so.

One of his hands left your hip, moving upwards until it cupped your face. Your cheeks were burning beneath his touch, too flustered and shy to hold his haze for too long. You weren't stupid, you knew what was going on and you knew what it meant, yet it was hard for you to care when it felt this good.

Involuntarily, you started to move your hips on your own, growing needy and aching to feel more of him. You longed for his hands on your skin, touching every inch of you until his scent was spread all over your body - yet, he denied you of that, too scared of not being able to stop if he got to fondle your curves.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice so deep and husky, almost making you purr like a kitten between his arms.

“S’good…” you whined in response, mouth agape and letting gasps fall from your lips.

Harwin shifted his position, trying to find some comfortable posture that would make him forget about the ache inside his breeches. He laid back on the settee, spreading his legs and letting you place your hands on his chest. You soon started to move your hips again, moaning his name.

“Fucking hell…” he groaned, now getting a full view of your body. “Go on, ride my thigh…” Those words slipped his lips before he was able to stop them. He felt ashamed, but you loved to hear them, driving your pace harder in reaction.

Your eyes opened and you found Harwin looking up at you as you used him for your own pleasure. He sat there, your weeping cunt coating his armor with your slick as you rubbed yourself on him; you quickly noticed how hard it was for him not to look down - not to look at the sinful view of your swollen bud brushing against him. Instead, his eyes remained on your face, lost in your glossy eyes and swollen lips. He was bewitched with the way your face would express the pleasure you were feeling; Blessed may be the gods for giving him the opportunity to see you like that.

His thumb moved closer to your lips, and you were quick to trap it inside your mouth, sucking and nibbling at it while your movements became more intense. Harwin couldn't resist, and he moaned once he felt your tongue swirling around his digit, imagining how that very same tongue would feel on his cock.

“This feels better than your pillow, doesn't it?” He suddenly groaned. On any other occasion, he would be too ashamed to mention that - the fact that he has heard you pleasuring yourself, yet he couldn't help it… the words slipped out of his mouth before he was able to hold them back. “Do you think of me when you do it?” He asked, almost begging to admit it, longing to hear you say it.

Though you were in no position to speak - too overwhelmed already, you manage to mumble a positive answer, humming as you nodded. A little smirk appeared on the knight's face, making him look even more charming than he already was. You felt your body melt in his arms.

With the motion of your body becoming more intense - faster, your nightgown slowly started to fall down your body, exposing your pebbled nipples to the hungry haze of the man beneath you. The struggle inside his mind was killing him, he wasn't supposed to touch you yet his body craved for it. His mouth watered at the sight while you kept moaning around his finger.

“Touch yourself for me, my angel,” he murmured, as if that would cease his cravings.

He removed his hand from your face, grabbing your wrist and relocating it to your breasts. You moaned at your own touch as you pulled your nipples and played with your own flesh. You leaned forward then, pressing your forehead against his, open-mouthed as you gasped when he grabbed your hips to control your movements once again. Harwin closed his eyes, groaning when you whined and mewled.

You sounded so beautiful.

“Come on, my princess,” he breathlessly said. His lips were merely a few inches away from yours. He fought the urge to devour your swollen lips. “Fucking hell… my angel, keep rubbing your sweet pussy against me. It feels so good, doesn't it? Bet you can’t think of anything else…”

“Harwin, I- I feel…”

“Sh… just let go. Fuck yourself on me, use me as you please. Let me help you empty that pretty head of yours.”

Harwin gave one last look at your trembling body before he started to bounce his leg, thick thigh adding more stimulation that almost made you scream. It was too much - the possessive grip around your hips was making it hard for you to think about anything else. You fantasized about him, about his hands, about his mouth… you longed for his touch, to feel huge calloused hands on your silken skin. You wondered how it would feel to have him inside of you, to let him defile your body. You wanted it so bad.

The thoughts soon started to push you over the edge. The metal covering Harwin’s thigh was soaked with your slick, it was slippery enough to fasten your movements until you couldn't hold it any longer. Your body weight fell forward, your hips twitching as your release oozed out of your weeping cunt, his name falling from your lips like a chant - as a way to thank him. Harwin felt his cock aching underneath his trousers, painfully hard, too damn close to coming undone.

“So good, my beautiful princess…” he whispered as he caressed your hair. His touch burning against now sensitive skin. “Bet you're not thinking about that bad man anymore, are you?”

You could only whine in response. Tired, overstimulated, and sleepy.

“Let's get you to bed now, shall we?”

Harwin grabbed your waist, lifting you up effortlessly as you leaned on his shoulders. Ever the gentleman, he fixed your gown and covered your nudity as he took you to the bed. He placed you delicately over the soft mattress and you hummed when he wrapped your trembling body on the silk sheets.

He leaned back then, but you grabbed his hand before he could go further away. “Please, don't,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Stay with me… Lay here.”

“My princess-”

“Please.”

And he couldn't say no.

You heard how he started to get rid of his armor, slowly detaching the pieces of metal from his body until there were just thin layers of clothes covering his body. He cautiously laid behind you - not wanting you to feel the hardness under his trousers, yet you grabbed his hand and forced him to wrap his limbs around your body, feeling the need to have him as close as possible.

Silence fell on the room, just hearing his calm breathing as he closed his eyes and smelled the sweet perfume lingering in your hair. But then, you spoke again.

“Ser Harwin?” you uttered his name so delicately it almost felt like a caress.

“Yes?”

There was a small pause, a moment of doubt. You continued regardless.

“I… I think I might be in love with you.”

Harwin's heart skipped a beat on his chest, and a smile appeared on his face. He felt a joy that he had never felt before.

“Princess?” Now it was him calling your name.

“Yes, sir?”

“I am in love with you.”

TAGS — @islandfantasydream

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

[fuji-sen]

Sawuwa with reader who finally gets their own body and immediately gets carried away princess style PLEEEEASE 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺

SAWuWa Headcanon pt. 5.1 .ೃ࿔*:･

requested!

characters: Rover, Jiyan (I keep forgetting its Jiyan not Jinyan--), Scar, I'll add more characters soon.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Rover.ᐟ

takes place presumably sometime after chapter 1/patch 1 story.

➥ other than you, Rover is probably one of the most happiest person in Sol-III now that you got your own body!

➥ because honestly, they had a rough time partly sharing their body with you, it was like not having any privacy! they could hear your thoughts, and you could hear theirs. They were like the anchor to your disembodied soul that either floated around nearby or was in your body like an imaginary voice in the head.

➥ but despite the rough bumps you started off with the main character, you two became very close, forcibly perhaps with being forced to be so close to each other, but still, genuinely close.

➥ so when you were a bit disoriented having your own body they easily picked you up in a princess carry with a bright smile on their face.

➥ "it's finally nice to see you in solid form." they remarked with a chuckle.

➥ feeling a bit weak you were still able to respond, "you don't have to carry me y'know" your voice was soft as you stared at their piercing golden orbs as if the blood of the gods spilled to create such beautiful eyes.

➥ the Rover hummed thoughtfully "I know, just want to."

➥ some part of them knew they'd miss being so close to you.

➥ "can't believe I have my own body, now I have to walk all over the place like you." you scrunched up your nose in annoyance at the thought. Rover laughed at your musings, that was the first thing you were worried about after getting your own body?

➥ "you're worried about the journey but not the tacet discords?" they pointed out and you flailed your arms in frustration "ugh you're right!"

➥ "just stick with me and I'll protect you" they said holding you tighter.

Jiyan.ᐟ

takes place when you end up getting separated with the Rover and ended up getting your own body. probably around the time when Rover was building that huge gun thingy to get close to the threnodian.

➥ The minute you are forcibly separated from the Rover, no longer a specter, no longer a voice with no body to its name, the first one who is over their shock would be General Jiyan.

➥ you feel a bit disoriented, your body swaying as you felt dizzy, your body leaned a bit too far in one direction and suddenly you find yourself falling.

➥ oh but don't worry! well toned arms wrapped themselves around you preventing any injuries.

➥ "Thank you" you managed to say as you steadied yourself, his arms no longer enveloped you but a hand was on your shoulder instead.

➥ "It is no problem." he curtly replied "you seem to be disoriented, it seems that getting your own body has exhausted you." his brows furrowed as the more doctor and medic side of him appeared.

➥ After a bit of silence on his side, he opened his mouth only to offer assistance "would you like me to carry you to the medics? or perhaps the Rover?" ah that's right, you got separated.. you shook your head despite how tempting the offer was, you couldn't take advantage of the general. "no it's okay, you're hurt, I can endure it until I meet with the others again."

➥ but Jiyan wouldn't take no for an answer, "are you doubting my strength?" he asked amused as he crossed his arms, flexing his muscles. You gulped shaking your head fervently 'no'

➥ and that's how you ended up in his arms, perhaps Jiyan was right that you needed to be carried. You find your eyelids grew heavy as you leaned on his chest.

Scar.ᐟ

tw: kidnapping? (depends whether you don't want him to take you or not.)

takes place during the awakening of the threnodian.

➥ Scar would watch (stalk) you and Rover after your first encounter, the jail of Jinzhou wasn't enough to stop him.

➥ with the whole fuss of the Threnodian's awakening being expedited he was able to easily slip out.

➥ course he would have preferred to have fight his way out of the place and cause havor like the maniac he is, he decided it would be quicker to slip out so he could get to you and Rover quicker.

➥ so when he arrived to find you, rover and jinyan, he was pleasantly shock to find you in the middle of getting your body.

➥ the powerful frequencies you let off and the reverberations that flowed through after had him excited!

➥ The general and the rover were preoccupied with defending you from the gathering TD's that were attracted to your raw power left them distracted, letting him easily close the distance between you.

➥ you look at the palm of your hands, shock as you truly had a physical body. and yet you were unable to savor it as you could hear a familiar voice.

➥ one dripping with charisma and an underlying tone of insanity. "Scar" you turned to find him walking closer and closer to you, you were shock considered he wasn't supposed to appear in this part of the story since canonically he was in jail at this moment.

➥ "it's nice to see you again little lamb, or should I say bambi?" he tilted his head, an amused smile on his face as he looked at you up and down, his heterochromia eyes settling on your legs.

➥ you followed his stare to realized your legs were shaking, probably being barely able to stand as you were. Your cheeks quickly turned red in embarrassment, "I have a name you know" you hissed and ended with a pout.

➥ you turned around trying to find Jiyan, Rover or anybody to help you. As much as you liked Scar and doted on him every chance you got, you felt vulnerable and you were unsure of his motives regarding you.

➥ "Aw come on little lamb, won't you please pay attention to me?" you jolted to find him right behind you, face near your ears as you could practically feel his breath fanning you. He had an adorable pout on his face, almost looking like a kicked puppy.

➥ before you could reply a sound resembling a growl got your attention as you both turned to find tacet discords approaching you.

➥ as much as Scar liked fighting, and wasn't too afraid of tacet discords he clicked his tongue annoyed "I won't let our little date get interrupted again." he declared as he bent down, and before you could object, he carried you in his arms.

➥ "hey- where are you taking me?!" you yelled as he began moving, dodging attacks sent at him by the tacet discords who wanted you. Scar merely laughed "hold on tight!" and you did, wrapping your arms around his neck as he used his legs to either run, dodge or attack.

➥ boy Rover and Jiyan will be in for a shock when they find you gone.

[killerpancakeburger]

Imagine: Ghost giving you the shovel talk after Soap and you made your relationship official

It's the evening, you two are smoking outside in companionable silence, taking in the star-spangled sky. Suddenly his voice pulls you out of your daydreaming.

"So... you n' Johnny, eh?”

You feel an ominous shiver run down your spine - you do not like the turn this conversation is taking. His tone is steady, like it usually is, but it means nothing when that specter is involved. He could be slicing a throat and his voice wouldn't waver a iota.

If there was anything you learned about The infamous Ghost, in the absence of his identity and the face beneath the mask, it was that the names he used for the people he considered his family were anything but random. Soap was the most common way he refered to his Sergeant, but a Johnny could slip here and there. "Johnny" was personal; intimate; vulnerable; and possessive all at once. Not in the way an insecure lover would act - although...? Maybe...? -, but in the way a pack member would bare his fangs at a newcomer to protect his mates.

There was something animalistic buried within him that would resurface from time to time, when the risk was too great, when the survival of the 141 or of any of its members was jeopardized. Something you would not risk to vex. Simon was extremely protective behind closed doors, it wasn’t a scoop, but you thought yourself safe from his fangs... or at least you did until now.

"Yeah?"

How you hate the interrogation in your voice. As if you were seeking his permission. Like a child knowing they're asking for too much but doing it anyway.

You busy yourself with your cigarette, trying to look unfazed.

"He may sound like a fuckin' playboy most of the times, but he's actually a sensible kinda fella. Doesn't go around givin' his heart to just anyone, y'know?"

You gulp. Take a deep breath. The only way out is through. Might as well be done with it.

"So, is this the part where you swear that no one will ever find my body if I hurt him?"

You're proud of how casual you managed to sound.

He actually chuckles at that. A relaxed, raspy, unbothered kind of sound. Maybe you will walk away with your life tonight after all.

"Got it all figured out, don't ya? But that's good. Saves us some time."

He tosses his cigarette and, for the first time since you’ve been outside, he turns to you and look you in the eye. His stare is as intense as ever.

"We're in agreement, then? Ya'll treat mah boy well?"

"Wouldn't dream of anything else."

"Good lass."

A pause, then:

"This works both way, y'know that, right?"

"Hmm?"

Too busy celebrating your escape from the valley of the shadow of death, you haven't been completely paying attention.

"If he gives ya trouble, I'll knock some sense into that thick head of his."

You look at him again, your face beaming and your chest tingling with a newfound joy.

"Thank you."

You smile, unable to stop the motion of your lips. Your gratefulness is not for the threat he proclaimed, but for the friendship he extends to you.

He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to.

Suddenly a burly arm wraps around your neck.

"What were ya guys talkin' about!? You’ve been there for ages." Pouts Soap.

Glancing over at Ghost, you can see that Johnny has tried to grab him by the neck too, with a lukewarm success, considering the height difference between the two of them.

"Nothin' ye need to concern yerself with", retorts Simon, lying as easily as he breathes.

As Johnny turns to you in hopes of finding an easier target that will confess everything, you nearly miss the conspiratorial wink Ghost sends your way. The action is so far removed from his usual character, you understand that the discrepancy is made to amuse you. So you giggle.

Tonight the sky is full of stars, and your heart full of bliss, the way you feel like your chest might burst with happiness at any moment, with those two men at your side.

A/N: Platonic!Reader x Ghost my beloved 😫 🖤 Tried to make Ghost the less OOC as possible, as usual >_< but man its not a walk in the fookin park.

Trouple potential tho? 👀 sorry not sorry, I can't help it, I love the ambiguity...

[hb-writes]

Another Time, Another Place

Summary: Harvey's wife (Reader) gets stuck while working on a case and she requires his assistance to get unstuck.

Prompt: “What? Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader/OFC (3rd person, she/ her)

Content Warning: Nothing much, really. Implied spice, but no explicit spice.

She pulled her gaze from her laptop, rubbing at her eyes as she glanced around the room after sending an email. Most of the partners—both the senior and junior designees—stayed far away from the law firm’s library. They had little need for the space, what with being granted their own resplendent offices, complete with the comforts of their own design—furniture and decor and views that reflected their status and clout at the firm…

So it was rare to find department heads there, excepting for the odd instances when they deigned to stretch their legs, drifting down to the library to follow up with an associate or paralegal assigned to their case in person rather than sending an email, but she had always liked the library. She often preferred its special brand of quiet, the near-silence imbued with the tense buzz of people working on their own time-sensitive assignments, almost like the parallel play of toddlers. Almost like they were all still students studying for exams and writing papers. 

The room was empty now though, the hour too late for even the most diligent of associates, the most hungry of them, but it had always reminded her of her days back in school…her days as a novice associate. Even now, she sometimes preferred the space to her own office the same way she’d once preferred the space to her little cubicle in the bullpen. Back when she was an associate, there had been no hour too late, no hour that she wouldn’t spend in the library with a pile of books and her mind wound tightly throughout the intricacies of a case, trying to craft a win for herself. For her mentor. For her clients. 

It wasn’t often these days that she needed to keep such late hours. And somewhere along the line, she’d become the one mentoring novice attorneys. She’d sent her own associate home hours ago, preferring to work through this particularly rough bit of research on her own. Once in a while, she liked that sort of challenge. Liked revisiting the grueling all nighters she’d once lived on a daily basis. 

And she could feel she was close now, the puzzle pieces in her mind’s eye nearly falling into place. Nearly…but there was something she was missing. Something blocked that she couldn’t quite work through. In a library containing thousands of volumes and a whole internet of answers, she just couldn’t find what she needed. 

Or, more likely, she couldn’t access it, her mind not making the right connections. 

She probably just needed to get some sleep, to look at things with a fresh mind, but that wasn’t in the cards tonight, not with an impending deadline. 

A short break would have to do. She just needed an influx of energy, a slight bit of distraction to pull her mind away from the issue just enough to give perspective. 

Pushing back from her laptop, she turned the volume on her wireless headphones up, letting the club hits she used to dance to during undergrad house parties soothe some part of her soul, almost as if the familiar beats unlocked something in her, loosening muscles she hadn’t even realized were tense. Not that it was a surprise. She’d been hunched over the table for hours, not even bothering to stop for dinner, taking only a few obligatory bites of the sushi Harvey had ordered for her while her eyes remained glued to her computer. 

She let her focus slip away now though, slipping off her heels and closing her eyes as she sang along to the song in her headphones. She imagined she was in another time, another place—far away from the library and the case, the music easily carrying her away. 

She started, eyes flying open as she danced into something solid, the scent of a familiar cologne tickling her senses as she stumbled. Harvey’s hand closed around her back, steadying her as she pulled her headphones off, letting them hang around her neck. 

Harvey smirked at the noise still blaring through the silent library from the headphones, a song he knew just as well as she did, the sound of it dredging up at least half a dozen memories—images of his own college days, images of the two of them on road trips, images of her cleaning the apartment, images of their wedding, images of a handful of other times he’d come across her in the firm’s library late at night…

“Hey fruitcake, what are you doing?” 

She rolled her eyes at the reference as she turned down the volume, allowing the memories and the music to fall away, her mind temporarily focused on finding the right retort, her mind gratefully sifting through Dirty Harry quotes rather than case law research.

Harvey watched her, letting the quiet stretch between them, some part of him gratified at the sight of her slightly disheveled appearance. Harvey liked something about the juxtaposition, of seeing her just slightly less put together than she usually was in the hallowed halls of their law firm, her blazer discarded on a chair, her shirt sleeves rolled, her feet bare, bright red toenails stark against the dark carpets. 

Not that he wasn’t used to seeing her like that. She was the type of girl who was almost always in sweats just minutes after arriving home. She’d actually been dressed that way when they first met, years and years ago in a different law library, in a different set of hallowed halls. 

Sometimes, especially times like this, it felt like it was just yesterday.

Harvey pulled his eyes back to her face to find her studying him, a certain eagerness lighting her eyes. His lips formed a fond smile again. 

“I thought you were hard at work down here?” he taunted, eyebrows raising.

“Well…” she started, leaning a bit of weight onto the arm that still lay snaked around her back, “for the past three-quarters of an hour, I’ve been sitting on my ass waiting for you.” 

Harvey smirked. It was one of the things he loved about her: that she could go toe to toe with him with most things—movie references, the law, a few choice other things…

Nevermind the fact that she’d emailed him requesting his ‘assistance’ mere minutes ago…

Harvey gently massaged her lower back with the fingers he still had splayed there before shifting his arm away, abstaining from letting his hand drift down to the aforementioned ass, another thing he loved about her.

Her lips pursed at the sudden absence of Harvey’s touch and she pulled her arms up to fold over her chest.

“I brought that help you wanted.” 

She refrained from smiling as she read the title of the paperback he pushed into the space between them—Law for Dummies—even as he smirked, giddy as a school child. She had gifted the book to him upon his law school graduation, and it had occupied a shelf in his various cubicles and offices ever since. 

She doubted it had ever been much help, but it gave them a good laugh from time to time, something which was like a balm to the harshness of life sometimes, a healing salve for the seemingly chronic stress of their lives.

“Very clever, Harvey.” 

“What?” he asked, gaze drifting from her unimpressed face down to the black and yellow front cover. “Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Harvey’s voice sounded so innocent—so sincere—that she almost laughed. Christ, he was good. If law hadn’t worked out, he could’ve given acting a shot. Comedy, maybe. 

“Did my email say anything about a book, Mr. Specter?” she asked, taking the tome from his hands and tossing it on a nearby table with a thump.

Harvey hummed. “Come to think of it, your email was a little…vague. Left a lot to the imagination.” 

“Mhmm…” She nodded. “The details of the specific type of assistance I require of you is something I suspect neither one of us would want in writing. Wouldn’t want it read aloud in a court of law…” Her eyes traveled Harvey’s face, clocking the light in his eyes and the tug of his smile. “Or by the IT department,” she added as an afterthought, the briefest bit of alarm washing over her features at the idea. 

“You think Benjamin is reading our email exchanges?” Harvey asked. “That’s kind of—”

She pushed at his chest before he could get the word out—kinky. 

“Harvey,” she groaned, not because she didn’t enjoy the childish side of him. She did. She loved it, actually, but she had asked him down here for a reason…

“Yes, Mrs. Specter?” 

To most of the world, both here at the office and in the eyes of the U.S. government, she went by her maiden name. She had kept her own name, both professionally and legally, for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that she was not a man’s property, not even if Harvey Specter was the man in question. But between the two of them, it still thrilled her when he called her that, made her feel so thoroughly his—and him so thoroughly hers—that her toes curled into the carpet, a movement that Harvey clocked as he stepped closer, one arm wrapping around her as he used the other to guide her face up to him with a hand under her chin.

“What specific type of assistance is it that you require of me?”

Whatever she asked for…whatever she needed…Harvey would readily give her the world if she wanted it. If it would make her happy. If she needed it. He’d do anything.

It was a truth they both knew. And it was reciprocal. She’d do the same for him.  

But all she wanted—all she needed—just now was him. 

This.

Well, this…and a way to win her case, but as she kissed her husband’s lips, allowing him to guide them both back towards the stacks, thoughts of the case fell away until all that existed in the world was two people alone in a library, each of them falling a bit further in love, as they had once done long ago in another time, another place.

[noira-l]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 "𝐘𝐞𝐬"!

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Satoru has finally found a way around the bureaucracy! Simple, ingenious, and by the way… he proposed marriage to you! Countless times...

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: fluff, annoying Satoru, a compilation of attempts to convince you to marry him.

author's note: I don't need to explain to anyone how stubborn Satoru can be when he wants something c;

The end of school was approaching and you were both busy with exams, missions and the overwhelming responsibilities of your sorcerer lives.

But then things started to get complicated with the adoption of Tsumiki and Megumi. Bureaucratic complications, delays in paperwork and constant questions from officials about living conditions. It wasn't that you didn't want to care about the children - on the contrary, they were the ones you were now focusing on the most. But with each passing day, the adoption process became more and more difficult, and the legal bureaucracy was a tangle you couldn't unravel.

You were met with the undeniable truth, you couldn't live on school grounds with the children. Yaga had been firm, his face as unreadable as ever when he told you it simply wasn’t an option. They were too young, he had explained, for the things they might see here. You hated to admit it, but he was right.

Satoru had flat-out refused to house the kids at his clan’s headquarters. His words were sharp, unbending, like an iron door slamming shut - 'No way, I’m not dragging those kids into that mess."

And you? You didn’t have a home anymore. Not really. You had never planned for this, for the sudden responsibility of two children to rear and protect. Not like this.

There was an overwhelming shame creeping in, the thought of overstaying your welcome at the school. Yaga had said you could stay for as long as necessary, but you couldn't help but feel the weight of it. The image of yourself lingering at the school grounds - post graduation, older, with two children in tow - haunted you. You needed to find a place of your own, a real home, somewhere for Megumi and Tsumiki to grow without the specter of danger hanging over them.

And then, there was the reality of your financial situation. It was almost laughable. Though Satoru, as you soon learned, was disgustingly rich, that wealth was locked away behind the vaults of the Gojo clan. For now, all he had access to was his paycheck, and though his salary as a special-grade sorcerer far outstripped yours, it was still nowhere near enough to cover what you needed - housing, legal fees, everything. And you still wanted to share expanses.

It had been a moment of desperation when you tried to adopt them yourself first. The government official had glanced over your file and turned you down almost immediately, barely glancing at your credentials. The sting of that rejection lingered, a bitter taste in your mouth.

When Satoru tried, things seemed to move a little more smoothly, but the gears of the system were still grinding too slowly. Every day felt like another step backward, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the longer this dragged on, the greater the chance the Zen'in clan would swoop in and take Megumi. The thought made your blood run cold.

After one particularly gruelling meeting with a government official, during which your status and living conditions were questioned, Satoru first threw out the idea.

It had been late, the sky above painted in shades of pink and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, the last rays of daylight casting long shadows across the school grounds. You both sat on the steps outside, staring out at the sprawling campus before you. Despite the breathtaking view, your mind was a tangle of frustration and helplessness, the weight of the situation settling heavily in your chest.

Satoru leaned back, resting his elbows on a stone, and looked at you with a thoughtful expression on his face that didn't quite match the playful gleam in his eyes.

"You know." Satoru said suddenly, his voice calm, almost too casual for the gravity of the moment "If we got married, all this paperwork would be easier. Like, a lot easier."

For a second, you blinked, not sure if you had heard him correctly. You turned to him, incredulous, your mind scrambling to catch up.

"What?" you said raising a brow to him.

"Marriage." he said again, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world "On paper, of course. It’d make the adoption process smoother. We present ourselves as a couple, and everything falls into place."

You laughed, the sound escaping your lips more out of disbelief than amusement "That’s… the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, Satoru." you shook your head, standing up and brushing the dust off your pants "Are you even listening to yourself?"

He grinned, leaning in closer with that mischievous look you’d seen so many times before.

"Oh, I’m listening. And I’m making sense. It’s logical. Think about it- everyone loves a married couple. It’s easier for them to trust us, easier to approve everything. We get the kids and we make sure they’re not stuck in some bureaucratic limbo, and it’ll all work out."

You rolled your eyes, starting to walk away from him, but the absurdity of the idea lingered in the back of your mind.

"You’re insane." you muttered, glancing back over your shoulder.

"Think about it!" his voice echoed after you, still playful, but you could sense the genuine offer buried beneath it "It’s a great plan!"

★ --

One late afternoon, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden rays across the campus as the two of you sat on the stone steps outside the dormitory. The warmth of spring had just begun to settle in, and everything felt fresh, except the familiar topic Satoru decided to bring up once more.

"Y’know." he said, not even bothering to look at you this time, staring up at the clouds instead "It’s a nice day for a wedding."

"Can you please drop this?" you groaned, burying your face in your hands as if that might somehow make his persistence vanish.

Satoru shifted slightly, turning his head to face you. His grin, as usual, was irrepressible, but there was a softness in his eyes "Why would I? You still haven’t given me a good reason not to do it. Every time I bring it up, all I hear is how practical it would be."

"Because it’s ridiculous!" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface as you stared back at him "We’re not... we’re not even a real couple, Satoru. Why would we pretend to be something we’re not?"

Satoru’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it seemed to widen as though he had been waiting for this moment.

"Why not?" he teased, his voice filled with amusement but also with something deeper, something that unsettled you "We already plan to raise two kids together. We've sleept in the same bed sometimes, when it was cold, or we’ve had a bad day. Face it - we already act like a married couple."

The words hung between you, settling into the quiet air around you like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. You opened your mouth to argue, but the sharp retort you had prepared never left your lips. Instead, you found yourself speechless, staring at him, because- damn it - he wasn’t so wrong.

Still, you shook your head, more to convince yourself than him "This wasn't the same, and you know it."

But he only shrugged, a look of confidence lingering in his expression as if he knew you’d eventually come around.

★ --

There were the quieter moments of persistence, when Satoru’s usual teasing faded into something more subdued, but no less determined. Like one evening, after a particularly long day, you found him sitting in the common room, flipping through paperwork related to the adoption process. You collapsed beside him, your body heavy with exhaustion, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Without even looking up, Satoru’s voice broke the silence "Did you know that married couples get fast-tracked for adoption approval?"

"Satoru, please." you groaned, sinking deeper into the cushions as though you could physically melt away from the conversation.

He glanced over at you, his grin widening as he waved the papers slightly "I’m just saying. It’s an option. A very practical one."

You covered your face with a pillow, muffling your exasperated groan. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I’m right." he said, smug as ever "And deep down, you know it."

★ --

A lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sitting in your dorm, relaxing with a book.

Satoru entered the room, hands behind his back, humming some ridiculous tune. You glanced up warily, immediately suspicious of the way he was grinning.

"What now?" you asked, already bracing yourself.

"Nothing." he said innocently, though his eyes sparkled with mischief "Just thought I’d bring you something." he pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing a bouquet of flowers - wild, messy, clearly picked from somewhere nearby.

You blinked "What is this?"

"Just thought I’d bring you some flowers." he said, sitting down beside you on the bed and handing them over "Consider it a peace offering."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical "For what?"

"For being so annoying." he said with a smirk, though his eyes were unusually soft "But also… as a wedding gift, in advance."

You groaned, shoving the flowers back at him "I’m not marrying you, Satoru."

He chuckled, taking the flowers back, but not looking deterred in the least "You say that now, but wait until you see the cake I have planned."

★ --

It was the middle of the night when you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You were going to bed. The mission had been exhausting, and all you wanted was to get back and rest. Of course, Satoru had already managed to find you and follow you to your room.

"Soooo~" Satoru began, his tone almost sing-song as he glanced over at you.

You immediately knew where this was going "Don’t even start."

He ignored you completely "I’ve been thinking - again - and I’ve come up with the perfect reason for us to get married."

You sighed, rubbing your temples "I’m really not in the mood, Satoru."

"Hear me out." he said, his voice teasing but somehow more serious this time "We’re already spending all our time together. We're friends. Like really close ones. Hell, we even know each other’s bad habits. It wouldn’t be that different from what we’re already doing."

You looked at him, exhaustion settling into your bones "Satoru- "

"I’m just saying." he cut you off, his tone gentler now, but still carrying that playful edge "I’d be a great husband. I’d let you win every argument. I’d let you pick the TV shows we watch. I’d even give you the last slice of pizza."

Despite yourself, you laughed "The last slice? That’s a big deal for you."

"See?" he grinned, clearly pleased with himself "I’m already husband material."

★ --

Of course, there were days when Satoru’s persistence was anything but quiet. One afternoon, he tried to enlist Shoko in his scheme. The two of you were sitting in her office, discussing an upcoming mission, when Satoru barged in with his usual dramatic flair.

"Hey, Shoko!" he said, all smiles as he leaned against the wall "Don’t you think we’d make a great married couple?"

Shoko didn’t even glance up from the papers she was reviewing "Are you still going on about that?" she asked, her tone dripping with disinterest.

Satoru shrugged, his grin never faltering "What? We both know she’d love to marry me."

You glared at him, your patience wearing thin "Satoru, I swear- "

But Shoko snorted, finally looking up with an amused smirk. "Honestly, I don’t know who’s worse. You for asking, or her for tolerating you."

"Hey!" you both said in unison, but even you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped.

★ --

Time passed, and the teasing evolved. Satoru wasn’t just bringing it up in private anymore - oh no, now it was a full-blown spectacle. One afternoon, you were walking across the school grounds, arms full of paperwork, when Satoru suddenly appeared in front of you, out of nowhere, blocking your path.

"Will you marry me?!" he asked loudly, his grin wide, as if he were proposing in front of an audience.

A group of students nearby turned to stare, whispering and giggling among themselves.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you shot him a death glare "Are you out of your mind? People are watching!"

Satoru shrugged, unfazed by the attention "Let them watch. I’ll give them a show." he winked at one of the students who was clearly gawking at the scene "She’s playing hard to get."

You groaned, exasperated, and pushed past him "I’m going to murder you in your sleep."

"Ah, see? That’s marriage talk already." he called after you, his laughter trailing behind.

★ --

And then there were the days when Satoru’s persistence crossed over into full-blown ridiculousness.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and you were heading to a café to grab lunch. Satoru, as always, had found a way to tag along, much to your annoyance. You both sat at an outdoor table, sipping drinks while you waited for your food to arrive.

As you absentmindedly check your phone, Satoru leaned across the table and placed a small velvet box right in front of you. You froze, staring at it like it was a bomb ready to explode.

"What… is this?"

He waggled his eyebrows in a dramatic fashion "Open it."

You hesitated, but finally flipped open the box, revealing… a plastic ring, the kind you’d get from a toy vending machine.

"Satoru." your voice was flat, unimpressed.

"Hey, it’s a placeholder." he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself "We can get the real one when you say yes."

You stared at him, utterly speechless for a moment, before you closed the box and shoved it back toward him "Get out of my sight."

"But you didn’t say no!" he teased, picking up the box and twirling it between his fingers.

"I hate you."

"You love me." he said, beaming "But, seriously, think about it. The kids would get off welfare immediately, and we wouldn’t have to deal with all the bureaucracy."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "You’ve been asking me this for months."

"And I’ll keep asking," he said, his tone light but his eyes serious now "Until you see that it makes sense. For Megumi and Tsumiki, for you… for us."

★ --

Eventually, after months of playful persistence, logical reasoning, and over-the-top proposals, you found yourself sitting next to him on the bed, in his room.

Should you do it?

You stared at the ceiling, your mind running through the endless logistics of what would come next: the paperwork, the explanations, the questions from friends and colleagues. It felt surreal, and yet, a small part of you - one you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge - wasn’t entirely uncomfortable with the idea of marrying Satoru. If anyone could navigate this strange situation, it was him.

He was, after all, your closest companion.

Satoru shifted beside you, and you could feel his eyes on you. He hadn’t moved to push or tease you like he normally would; instead, there was a softness, a strange patience that you weren’t used to from him.

"You're thinking too hard." he said, his voice quieter now, lacking its usual playful edge.

"Satoru." you said quietly, not looking at him.

"Hm?" He glanced over at you, waiting.

You turned to look at him then, studying the way his expression softened just enough to remind you that underneath the bravado and charm, he cared. Maybe more than he let on.

"If I agree to this... stupid marriage thing." you said slowly, weighing every word carefully "You- "

"No strings, no weirdness. I promise." he leaned in closer, interrupting your serious tone with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shot him a look, warning him not to get too cocky, but there was something a little infectious about the way he smiled at you.

"You better keep that promise." you muttered, shaking your head as you lay down on his bed.

"Oh, trust me." he said with a wink, "I'm a man of my word."

You sighed, the weight of your decision settling in "I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this."

Satoru chuckled, reaching out to lightly pat your shoulder.

"Hey, look at it this way - we’ll make a great team. Plus, you get to say you’re married to the most charming guy in the world."

"Don’t push it, Gojo." you shot him a tired look.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[kettlefire]

High Speed Chase (DcxDp)

Johnny 13 didn't know what happened. One moment he was revving his bike through the Ghost Zone. Performing tricks between each slab of floating rock he drove through.

He had left Shadow with Kitty. His girl was having some kind of girls' night with a few other specters. Johnny was enjoying a bit of alone time, letting his mind wander and his body go on autopilot.

That was until he felt a strange force pulling him, trying to drag him and his bike in a different direction. Johnny tried to fight it, he really did.

With a flash of light, a vacuuming feeling, and moment of disorientation, Johnny was suddenly on a road. A real road. A solid road from the living world.

His wheels jostled and stuttered over the sudden texture change, and Johnny had quickly gotten his bike back under control.

It wasn't Amity. That was the first thought that crossed his mind as Johnny doubled down. His bike roared with life, and he made no move to stop. Not until Johnny knew what the hellw as going on.

In the first few moments, Johnny let his eyes wonder. Taking in the space around him. There was a strange machine that was quickly getting smaller behind him.

Something made of metal and wires, a ball of red energy suspended between a circle. There were cars around, and many of them seemed to have been abandoned.

Then there was the vehicles not so abandoned.

A large black car that seemed close to a modernized tank. Two bikes speeding down the street beside Johnny. He couldn't see through the window of the car, but Johnny could guess what would be in the driver seat.

Someone dressed up in a costume just like the two men on the bikes. The dipstick flashed through Johnny's mind, but he was too distracted to make any connections.

He had no clue where he was or why he was suddenly spit out into this world. He didn't know why he was being chased down by these three masked vigilantes.

So Johnny did the only thing he could think to do, he sped up. He slightly regretted leaving Shadow with Kitty, knowing just how much his friend could help right about now.

Johnny didn't know what these living people wanted with him, but he wasn't about to find out. Humans never wanted anything good from ghosts. The dipstick's friends were an exception. An exception that doesn't happen.

Johnny locked in, speeding up as he weaved through the streets. He wasn't going to get caught, he refused to let himself.

He needed to get back to the Zone. Back to Kitty and Shadow. He needed to tell the counsel about this. About the way he had been suddenly forced out of the Zone.

This could be dangerous, extremely dangerous. Amity Park was one thing, a town the ghosts were the safest to explore. Anywhere else was like a mine field, safety was an unlikely thing to find.

Especially if Phantom wasn't in this city.

It was a chase that Johnny hadn't felt since he was alive. Weaving in and out of traffic, phasing through obstacles, and even going invisible at some points.

Yet everywhere Johnny looked, one of them was hot on his tail. It was getting harder and harder for Johnny to keep his cool.

He didn't know these streets, these buildings, this traffic. How was Johnny supposed to lose these guys if he was in their home terrif?

Johnny didn't even have the chance to think over a solid escape plan when he found himself skidding straight into an 18-wheeler.

It happened too fast for him to even think of going intangible. One moment, he was speeding down an empty road. The next thing he was staring up at the night sky.

Out of all the things Johnny had expected, he didn't expect the sudden appearance of a man beside him. Concern radiating off the masked man as the vigilante searched him for any wounds.

[novaursa]

can you please write something with the reader being the queen of a far away kingdom that is kinda similar to the targaryen house but instead of dragons they have elike either magic or something. and reader ends up befriending rhaenyra which has the reader being a very powerful ally and the greens notice this , with alicent still wanting to steal the throne but otto is like “…nahhhh” , so rhaenyra becomes queen with the reader there and just standing all badass and stuff kinda comedic if you can please

The Witch Queen

- Summary: You arrive from faraway land to aid Rhaenyra before her rightful claim is stolen.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: This might be slightly darker than you asked for, but the spooky season vibes guided me with this one. I hope you still like it, dear anon. 🙂

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: long live the queen

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The wind carried a sharp, briny scent from the sea as your ship glided through the dark waters toward the docks of King's Landing, its shadow stretching ominously beneath the moonlit sky. The black sails of your fleet billowed against the midnight horizon, a ghostly procession that had gone unnoticed until now. No banners heralded your arrival, no horns sounded from the walls of the Red Keep. The city slept in ignorance of the storm you had brought.

At your side, your court stood with heads held high, their violet eyes gleaming in the moonlight, their pale, silver-gold hair swept back in intricate braids that mirrored your own. House Tyvarella was not accustomed to formalities that belonged to lesser kings or the pious men of Westeros. You were the Queen of a realm far older than this one, a survivor of Valyria’s doom, and there was no need for permission to make yourself known.

As you stepped onto the cobblestones, the whispers from the shadows began to ripple. The common folk had heard the tales—stories of your house, the blood mages of Tyvarella, feared even by those who once tamed dragons. To those of the Faith of the Seven, you were a creature from their darkest myths, a figure woven into the very fabric of their nightmares. And now, you were here, at the heart of their crumbling kingdom.

“The night brings ill omens,” Otto Hightower muttered, his hands wringing in that nervous, meticulous way of his. He stood by a flickering torchlight, watching as your procession marched through the streets toward the Red Keep. His face was pale, his eyes narrowed in a mixture of wariness and disgust. “They come as vultures, Alicent, like specters summoned by death itself. We need to leave, now.”

Alicent Hightower, now Dowager Queen, stood by his side, her delicate fingers gripping the edges of her gown as if holding herself together. Her emerald eyes, though wary, flickered with a strange curiosity as she gazed at your retinue. “They were not expected, not invited… What are they doing here?”

“Nothing good, I assure you,” Otto responded with grim certainty. “King Viserys is dead. They arrive just as his breath fades. They bring with them blood magic and ruin. If we stay—”

A distant sound cut through the air, carried on the wind—the solemn toll of bells echoing across the city. Viserys was gone. The king had breathed his last.

Alicent's breath hitched as the realization washed over her. Her husband, the father of her children, the king, was dead. And here you stood, arriving at this precise moment, as if heralding the change to come.

But her eyes strayed, flickering toward the upper windows of the Red Keep. Through the torch-lit chambers, she caught a glimpse of another figure—Rhaenyra. The Princess had been kept behind, confined within the castle after that last bitter feast Viserys had demanded, the one after Vaemond Velaryon met his end.

Rhaenyra stood by the window now, her gaze drawn irresistibly to you. Alicent noticed it in an instant, the way her rival, her stepdaughter, leaned closer to the glass, watching your every movement with a deep, unspoken longing. Rhaenyra’s eyes were fixed on you, even from this distance, her expression one of unmistakable hunger and fascination.

“Do you see that?” Alicent whispered, her voice tight. “She… she looks at her.”

Otto followed her gaze, his lips tightening. “Rhaenyra’s drawn to power,” he said dismissively, though a hint of concern tugged at his tone. “It’s in her blood. But this... this is different. Tyvarella’s magic is ancient, forbidden. If she aligns herself with them, it will be disastrous.”

Alicent felt a wave of unease roll through her, but before she could respond, the heavy gates of the Red Keep groaned open, and you stepped inside. The room fell into a hush, as if the very stones of the castle were holding their breath. You entered without ceremony, your violet eyes scanning the gathering of lords and courtiers, none of whom dared meet your gaze directly.

And then, you saw her.

Rhaenyra.

She descended the grand staircase, her silken black gown flowing behind her like the wings of a raven. Her silver hair glowed in the candlelight, and her lips were parted ever so slightly, as if tasting the air between you. The tension in the room coiled tight, palpable.

When your eyes met hers, the world seemed to fall away.

You had seen her before, of course. But this… this was different. Here, in this moment of death and turmoil, the connection between you felt like a thread of fire, burning through the distance between you both. Her breath hitched as she came to stand before you, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice soft yet carrying a weight that pulled at something deep inside of you. “You came.”

“I did,” you replied, your voice steady, though the sight of her stirred something untamed within you. “I came as soon as I sensed it. Viserys is gone, and now… the realm will fall to chaos.”

Her lips tightened into a thin line, pain flashing in her eyes at the mention of her father, but she didn’t look away. “They’ll come for me. For my children.”

“And they’ll have to go through me first.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened at your words, the weight of your promise settling over her like a shield. Her hand, pale and trembling, reached out ever so slightly, as if testing the waters between you. And then, without another word, she placed it in yours.

A murmur spread through the room. Alicent stiffened where she stood, her face pale as the dawn.

Otto watched in silence, his mind already racing, already calculating. He knew what this meant. He knew that your presence here was more than a disruption. It was a declaration.

“We should have left when we had the chance,” he muttered, just loud enough for Alicent to hear. “Now it’s too late.”

Rhaenyra squeezed your hand, her fingers warm despite the cool air. “Will you stay?”

Your lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “For as long as you need me.”