#but like this whole thing made me realize I need clarity

[animalsandskyyy]

so like what does it mean when the girl you’ve been talking to met up with her ex boyfriend last night and didn’t interact with you after that until almost noon the next day and just said “i’m so sorry I got all busy” when she’s just been at home but like still valid, but when you ask how the night went she hasn’t responded even tho she read the message 3 hours ago?

asking for a friend😭

[batboysanonymous]

More Than This

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Y/N had always been Cassian’s best friend, the one who laughed at his jokes and stole his clothes without asking. But when stolen glances linger too long and casual touches leave fire in their wake, the unspoken tension between them becomes impossible to ignore. Neither of them dares to believe it could be more—until fate proves otherwise.

───────────────────────────────

The first time Cassian realized something had shifted, he was draping his jacket over Y/N’s shoulders.

It wasn’t the first time he’d done it—she had an uncanny ability to leave her cloak behind whenever they went out together, and Cassian had long since fallen into the habit of keeping an extra layer just for her.

But this time… this time felt different.

The thick, worn leather settled over her frame, far too big for her, practically swallowing her whole. Cassian had barely pulled his hands away when she let out a soft, content sigh, her fingers curling into the lapels.

And then she looked up at him.

Not just looked.

Glanced at him through her lashes, her lips curving into the kind of smile that made his stomach flip, the kind that felt too easy, too familiar.

Something tightened in his chest.

A feeling he couldn’t name, didn’t want to name.

His hands lingered a second too long—just barely brushing her shoulders—before he forced himself to step back, clearing his throat.

“You need to start remembering your own jacket, sweetheart.”

Y/N grinned, tugging the collar up around her face. The tip of her nose was still pink from the cold, and fuck, she was cute.

“Why would I, when I can steal yours?”

Cassian exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but there was no real bite to it.

“Because one day, you’ll push your luck, and I won’t give it up.”

She snorted. “You would literally freeze before letting me get cold.”

Cassian sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “I’m too nice.”

Y/N beamed, looking far too pleased with herself, and then—

She curled into his jacket, her arms wrapping around herself like she belonged there. Like it was hers.

Like she’d been wearing it her whole life.

And something inside him—something vital—gave out.

Cassian swallowed hard, a slow, creeping realization settling over him.

He didn’t mind.

Not even a little.

Actually, he liked it.

Liked seeing her wrapped up in his things.

Liked knowing that when she smelled the leather, she was smelling him.

Liked that it was his jacket she reached for—not anyone else’s.

His pulse thundered in his ears.

Shit.

His friends had teased him for years—for the way he always lingered a little too close, for the way he gravitated toward her in a room, for the way he’d drop anything the second she called his name.

He’d denied it, every single time.

Because it was just Y/N.

His best friend.

Right?

But standing there, watching her disappear into the warmth of his jacket, looking so effortlessly his—

Cassian realized, with sudden, irrevocable clarity—

They had never just been friends.

And maybe, just maybe—

He didn’t want to be.

───────────────────────────────

Somewhere along the way, their hangouts had started to feel more like dates.

Cassian didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the nights spent lingering just a little too long outside her door, the way their conversations stretched until dawn, the way he always wanted to be near her.

Like now—sitting across from each other in a quiet little café, the candlelight flickering between them, bathing her in soft golden hues.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his eyes tracing the delicate way Y/N stirred honey into her tea, slow and unhurried.

She always did this—added the perfect amount, stirred just so, then took a sip like it was a ritual. He’d seen her do it a hundred times before, but tonight… tonight, it felt different.

Maybe because he was watching too closely.

Maybe because he couldn’t stop.

“You’re staring.”

Cassian blinked.

“Am I?”

Y/N arched a brow, the candlelight making her eyes shine.

“Yes.”

She was so fucking pretty.

Cassian grinned, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. He wanted to be closer, needed to be.

“Maybe I just like looking at you.”

It wasn’t supposed to sound that genuine. That raw. But the truth slipped out before he could catch it.

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. But—

She didn’t look away.

Didn’t brush it off like she normally would.

Didn’t deny it.

“Please.” She stirred her tea again, but her fingers weren’t as steady. “You like looking at everyone.”

Cassian smirked, because yeah—he was a flirt. A shameless one. But—

“Not like I look at you.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Before he could think.

And just like that—

Her fingers stilled against her cup.

Silence stretched between them, thick and weighted.

Something unsaid—but not unnoticed.

Cassian felt it in his chest, in the air between them, in the way Y/N’s throat bobbed as she slowly, carefully, took a sip of her tea.

Something had changed.

He shouldn’t have said that.

He should’ve laughed it off, made a joke, turned it into something light and meaningless.

But it wasn’t meaningless.

And that was the problem.

Because sitting here, across from her in the dim light of their definitely-not-a-date dinner, watching the way she tried so hard to pretend his words didn’t affect her…

Cassian knew.

He felt it in his bones.

That maybe—just maybe—his friends were right.

That maybe, he wasn’t just her friend.

That maybe, he didn’t want to be.

His pulse thundered in his ears, his mind revolting against the thought.

He couldn’t be in love with her.

He would have noticed.

Right?

But then Y/N cleared her throat and muttered, “You’re impossible.”

Cassian tried to smirk.

Tried to pretend like his heart wasn’t threatening to crack his ribs.

But he knew.

Something had changed.

───────────────────────────────

Sharing a bed wasn’t new.

After long nights spent drinking or training, it was easier to crash together than be alone. They never questioned it—never overthought it. Just two friends who happened to end up in the same bed more often than not.

That was all.

But waking up tangled in each other?

That was new.

Cassian’s first thought upon waking was that he’d never been this warm in his life. The heat was all-consuming, wrapping around him like a second skin, and he almost groaned at how good it felt.

His second thought—the one that sent a sharp jolt through his system—was that the warmth came from her.

From Y/N.

From the woman curled against his chest, her face tucked into the crook of his neck, her breath fanning across his skin in soft, even exhales.

His arms were locked around her waist. Their legs were tangled. Their bodies were pressed together in a way that was decidedly not friendly.

Cassian barely dared to breathe.

His mind rebelled.

This isn’t anything. It’s just how you woke up. You’ve always been tactile with her. This doesn’t mean—

Y/N shifted, pressing closer, her fingers flexing slightly against his bare chest.

Cassian’s heart nearly stopped.

A slow, sleepy sigh left her lips. Then—soft as a whisper—she nuzzled into him.

His entire body went rigid.

Fuck. Fuck.

This wasn’t just friendly.

Friendly was sleeping side by side. Friendly was a casual arm slung over a shoulder, a teasing shove, an occasional hug.

This?

This was something else.

Cassian squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to be rational.

Except rational didn’t exist when Y/N was tucked into his arms, when her scent was filling every inhale, when the first thing he had felt upon waking was her warmth, her touch, her fucking everything.

Shit.

Then—

“Cass?”

Her voice was soft, thick with sleep, and it sent an unholy shiver down his spine.

Cassian swallowed hard. “…Yeah?”

Y/N blinked up at him, her lashes still heavy.

A pause.

“…Are we cuddling?”

Cassian’s throat locked.

Lie. Say something sarcastic. Make a joke. Don’t let her realize—

“…I think so.”

The words came out unbidden, his voice hoarse.

A beat of silence.

Y/N groaned and buried her face in his chest.

Cassian stopped breathing.

Because she didn’t pull away.

Didn’t shove him off.

Didn’t recoil.

She stayed.

Cassian’s mind raced, his heart hammering so hard it was a miracle she couldn’t hear it.

This means nothing. It’s fine. You’re fine.

Except his body was betraying him—his arms refusing to let go, his fingers twitching with the urge to trace over the delicate curve of her spine, his head tilting slightly as if it belonged there, right against hers.

This is normal. This is—

He was in so much fucking trouble.

Because if he moved—if he so much as breathed wrong—he might do something reckless.

Like tell her he loved her.

Like admit that maybe he had been lying to himself this entire time.

Like pull her even closer and never let go.

But he didn’t move.

Because neither did she.

───────────────────────────────

Their friends had had enough.

It started with a sigh. Not just any sigh—Mor’s sigh.

It was long, dramatic, and laced with the kind of exasperation that came from watching two people be so willfully blind that it physically hurt her. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and swirling the wine in her glass before pointing an accusatory finger at Cassian and Y/N, who were seated—as always—side by side.

“You two are so in love it’s disgusting.”

Y/N, mid-sip of her own drink, choked, coughing into her sleeve. Cassian reached out instinctively, rubbing her back, his touch warm and soothing.

“We are not,” Y/N finally gasped, thumping her chest.

Azriel, who had been watching the interaction with the kind of quiet amusement only he could pull off, arched a brow. “You’re wearing his jacket right now.”

Y/N blinked. Then, as if just realizing, looked down at herself. Cassian’s well-worn leathers were draped over her shoulders, the scent of pine, cedar, and him embedded in the fabric. The sleeves practically swallowed her hands.

“…So?” she muttered, shrugging deeper into it like that would somehow make her point more convincing.

Nesta rolled her eyes, sipping her own wine. “So, everyone knows you’re together except you two.”

Cassian let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back against his chair. “For the love of the Mother, we’re not together.”

Rhys leaned forward, a slow, amused smirk curling his lips. His violet eyes gleamed with trouble. “Funny, because if I asked Y/N on a date right now, you’d rip my throat out.”

Cassian’s body went still.

The flicker of irritation was there—subtle, but there. His jaw tensed, his easy-going demeanor slipping just enough for anyone paying attention to see the territorial glint in his hazel eyes.

“Try it,” Cassian said, voice low. “See what happens.”

Y/N glared at Rhysand, unimpressed. “You’re mated, you ass.”

Rhys grinned, unfazed. “That’s beside the point.”

Mor groaned loudly, slamming her glass onto the table. “It’s actually exactly the point! Cass, you’re literally ready to fight Rhys over a hypothetical date! If that’s not proof that you’re in love with her, I don’t know what is.”

Cassian scoffed. “That doesn’t mean anything. He’s just being an ass for sport.”

Rhys spread his hands innocently. “I do enjoy a bit of chaos.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “And just because Cassian doesn’t want me dating you doesn’t mean he’s in love with me.”

A collective groan swept across the table.

Nesta pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mother above, I cannot handle this level of stupidity.”

“It’s truly painful,” Amren murmured, still reading but clearly listening.

Mor pointed at Y/N this time. “Okay, fine. Then explain this. Why do you always wear his clothes? Why does he always bring you an extra meal when we go out? Why does he always find a way to be touching you? And why, for the love of all things holy, do you both look at each other like you personally strung the stars in the sky?”

Y/N sputtered. “I—That’s just how we are! We’ve always been like this!”

Cassian nodded in agreement, throwing an arm over Y/N’s chair in an instinctive, familiar motion. “Exactly! This is just us. We’re comfortable around each other.”

Rhys snorted. “Yeah, too comfortable. So comfortable it’s actually uncomfortable for the rest of us.”

Azriel smirked. “You do realize, don’t you, that half the people in Velaris already think you’re together?”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open. “What?!”

Cassian frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

Mor laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, please. Do you know how many people have asked me how long you two have been dating? You should hear the rumors.”

Y/N turned to Cassian, utterly baffled. “Did you know about this?”

Cassian shrugged. “I mean... yeah? But I just correct them.”

Y/N blinked. “And how exactly do you ‘correct’ them?”

Cassian smirked. “By telling them you’re still single.”

Mor gasped, scandalized. “You ass! You say it like you’re keeping your options open! No wonder no one else has ever tried asking Y/N out!”

Cassian had the audacity to look pleased with himself. “Well, it’s true. She’s single.”

Rhys’ brows lifted. “And you don’t like that, do you?”

Cassian went completely still.

Y/N, who had been flustered beyond belief, also hesitated, turning to look at Cassian more closely.

A muscle feathered in his jaw.

Nesta was smirking. Amren smirked. Rhys, Mor, and Az were grinning wildly.

Y/N’s heart started to hammer.

“…Cass?” she asked quietly.

His hazel eyes darted to hers. They were unreadable—guarded.

Then he gave an easy, lazy grin. “What? I just think anyone who wants to date you should be able to beat me in a fight first.”

Y/N gaped at him. “That’s the most ridiculous—”

“That’s the most Cassian thing I’ve ever heard,” Azriel muttered under his breath.

Nesta groaned, slamming her palm on the table. “That’s it. I’m done. I’m done.”

Rhys just grinned, stretching out comfortably in his chair. “You two are exhausting. Just thought you should know.”

Silence settled between them.

Y/N turned to Cassian. Cassian turned to Y/N.

Neither of them spoke.

For the first time, they didn’t have an argument.

For the first time, doubt—or something suspiciously close to realization—crept into their eyes.

Their friends had had enough.

And, maybe, it was time they finally figured out why.

───────────────────────────────

Cassian hated seeing Y/N with other males.

It was irrational. Utterly fucking irrational.

He had no claim on her. Had no right to feel this way. But that didn’t stop the ugly, clawing jealousy from curling in his chest whenever some charming bastard thought they had a chance with her.

Like now.

The air inside Rita’s was thick with the scent of sweat and perfume, the bass thrumming through the floorboards. Laughter rang across the room, glasses clinked, and—

Cassian’s grip on his drink tightened.

Some Illyrian asshole was standing too close to Y/N.

He didn’t even know his name. Didn’t care to. All he knew was that the male had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after her like a lost, love-struck puppy, smiling a little too wide, talking a little too much, and now—

Now, the fucker was leaning in.

Cassian could hear the conversation even over the music.

The male’s voice was smooth, laced with something smug, like he truly believed she’d be honored to entertain him.

Cassian’s jaw locked.

Y/N, to her credit, didn’t encourage him. She was polite—offering that diplomatic smile of hers—but she wasn’t leaning back in. Wasn’t laughing. If anything, she looked vaguely bored.

Didn’t matter. Cassian still wanted to punch him in the fucking throat.

It’s not your business.

That’s what he told himself. He had no right to feel this possessive, no reason to care so much. They were just friends.

Even if he thought about her at night. Even if he felt better when she was around. Even if she was the first person he sought in any room, the first one he wanted to tell things to. Even if—

No. No, it wasn’t like that.

You’re not in love with her. You’re just—

The male reached for her hand.

Something inside Cassian snapped.

His drink was abandoned before he even registered moving. His wings flared slightly as he crossed the room in a single breath, shoving his way between them.

His voice was low, lethal. “She’s taken.”

The male blinked, startled. His gaze flickered between Cassian and Y/N, confusion evident.

“By who?”

Cassian bared his teeth in something almost resembling a grin. “By me.”

Silence.

The words had come so easily. Like they were truth.

The male stiffened, eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t realize—”

“You do now.”

Cassian’s tone left no room for argument.

The Illyrian took a step back, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “No offense meant, Commander.”

Cassian didn’t blink, didn’t move until the male was gone—until he had slunk off to some other corner of the club, wisely deciding that Y/N was off limits.

Then, and only then, did Cassian turn to face her.

Y/N was watching him with something unreadable in her gaze.

Not annoyance. Not frustration.

Something… else.

And then—

A slow, knowing smile curled her lips.

Cassian’s heart stumbled.

Y/N stepped closer, deliberately closing the distance between them. Her fingers trailed over the edge of his armor, slow and teasing. Testing.

“Guess that’s true.”

Cassian swallowed hard. His pulse was thunderous.

It wasn’t the first time she had touched him—not by a long shot. But this? This was different.

His world shifted on its axis, the air between them turning thick and charged.

And then—

The pull.

An invisible thread wove through the air, wrapping around his ribs, his heart, her heart—

Cassian sucked in a sharp breath.

It was like the entire club had vanished. Like the music, the laughter, the people didn’t exist.

Just her. Just them.

Y/N’s fingers curled into his tunic. Her breath hitched.

“…Do you feel that?”

His hands found her waist, gripping tight. He couldn’t let go. Didn’t want to.

His voice was hoarse. “The bond.”

Y/N exhaled shakily. “We’re mates.”

Cassian’s world tilted.

His mind reeled, a thousand thoughts colliding all at once—

No. No fucking way. This isn’t—

Except it was.

It had always been.

He thought of Mor’s exasperated sighs, of Nesta’s unimpressed glares. Of Rhys’s teasing smirk, the way Azriel only ever raised a brow when he protested that they were just friends.

“You two are so in love it’s disgusting.”

“So everyone knows you’re together except you.”

Cassian had scoffed. Had brushed them off, had rolled his eyes.

But they had been right.

Every second of his existence had been leading to this moment. To her.

To the realization that he was irrevocably, obsessively, helplessly in love.

And he had been blind to it.

His throat was tight, his chest burning with something too big, too much—

“Y/N—”

But she was already moving, already rising on her toes, already pressing her lips against his.

Cassian broke.

A growl rumbled low in his chest as he crashed into the kiss, gripping her as if she might disappear if he let go. His hand tangled in her hair, the other fisting the fabric of her dress at her lower back, yanking her closer.

Y/N melted into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her lips parted on a soft gasp, and Cassian swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss until he felt dizzy.

It was raw. Desperate.

It tasted like every moment they had spent in denial. Every time he had swallowed down his feelings. Every second he had convinced himself that she wasn’t his to have.

But she was.

She always had been.

The bond thrummed, golden and right.

Y/N pulled back just slightly, breathless, dazed. Her forehead rested against his, her fingers still gripping his tunic like she needed something to hold onto.

Cassian cupped her face, his thumb stroking along her cheek.

And for the first time, he let himself admit it.

“I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Y/N’s eyes softened. Her lips parted.

“…Good.”

Cassian blinked.

Then, she grinned.

“Because I’ve loved you for just as long.”

And Cassian—Cassian—

He kissed her again.

Because, maybe, just maybe, he had been waiting his whole life.

And he wasn’t waiting another damn second.

���˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[hispg]

Comfort

Pairings: R4! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your husband is glad that he has you, just like he's glad to have his little family.

Wc:4.8k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, mentions of ptsd, mentions of birth and pregnancy, soft sex(nothing too kinky), oral sex(f receiving), just Leon being a sweetheart.

An:So, this week has been very busy for me. As I've been saying in my last few posts, university has been taking up a lot of my time, as well as my mental health being pretty messed up. I didn't manage to finish the chapter of 'Between Love and Vows' so I probably won't post anything new until next week. In compensation, I'll post another one of my drafts (smut), I'll make a poll so you guys can choose. And next week I'll post two new chapters of the series! Thanks for your love and understanding <3 If I haven't answered your comment, ask or request, don't worry, I will eventually🫶🫶

MDNI

Sleepless nights, the nightmares that kept tormenting him, his mind that was in turmoil all the time. Leon was used to all this, he had already realized that these were sensations he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

His trauma, ptsd that haunted him every day. Things he had seen and heard, all so fresh in his memory, so vivid. Things that no matter how hard he tried to forget, he couldn't. As if it were a mark stamped on his soul.

But he coped, as he always does with everything in life. Little by little, he understood how to deal with panic attacks, how to calm down even when he was about to collapse. He learned all this, but that didn't make things any less worse than they were.

Although he thought he had everything under control, that it wouldn't affect him as much as before, he was wrong.

His last mission in Spain proved it, he went from hell to heaven to save the president's daughter. Everything worked out in the end, but that doesn't erase what he experienced or saw.

Many times he could have sworn that if it hadn't been for you, he would have gone mad a long time ago. Even if you weren't able to end the pain he felt, you were there to be the light at the end of the tunnel for him, the clarity to his own insanity.

All this because every time he returned from a mission, he came home first, not caring if he was all dirty with mud and dirt, even blood. His safe haven was here, with you.

That was the only reason he always came home, no matter how difficult things might be for him. You were what he needed, you were the person who healed all his wounds, and he couldn't be more grateful.

If it had been anyone else, he would have left you by now, but you understood him. You listened to him even if he didn't make any sense, you were still there.

Your love was the remedy for all his problems.

And if he was being honest, it was the reason he woke up every day, the only reason he had a place to call home. You, simply you.

And that night, he found himself on another one of those nights when he couldn't sleep, and there he was, pacing around the house, finding something to occupy his mind.

It had been two weeks since he had returned from his mission in Spain, and he was still terrified by everything that had happened, even though he was safe and sound in the comfort of his own home.

He woke up from a nightmare, yet another one. And in order not to wake you too, he preferred to get out of bed. You were already tired enough to have to deal with him in the wee hours of the morning.

He was so careful with you, even though you had told him several times that it was okay for him to wake you up if he needed to. But he was stubborn enough to say no.

As he made some tea, just to see if it would calm his nerves, he watched the rain falling outside, the gentle drips hitting the window.

In that silence he began to have some sweet memories, it always helped to calm him down a little. One of those memories was when he asked you to marry him, God, he still remembers the nervousness that ran through his whole body. The trembling hands that held the box with the ring, the words that he had rehearsed so much and still came out messy. He was so afraid of being told no, but his heart calmed down when you smiled and threw yourself into his arms, saying yes again and again, making his heart melt each time.

That night he fell even more in love with you, if that were possible.

When you started living together, every time he came home he was greeted with a hug, you welcomed him with love and affection. He felt his cold exterior crumble at the same moment, words couldn't describe how much he liked it. Every little gesture that came from you, no matter what, he always took it to heart and considered it with all his soul.

He still vividly remembered a conversation he had with you as soon as you moved in together. It never failed to crack a smile.

"Darling, did you let something burn?" Leon asks as he feeds himself, looking around the kitchen.

You look at him with a laugh, seeing that he arrived so tired that he didn't even realize he was still in his work clothes. And then you answer, "No, why do you ask?"

"Nothing, it's just that something stinks." He says quietly, focused on finishing his food.

You can't help yourself and a giggle escapes your lips, "You haven't showered yet, sweetheart."

"Oh..." He mumbles, looking down at his state.

He was so entertained that he only noticed a baby crying from one of the bedrooms, it was you guys son.

He didn't hesitate to go into the baby's room, watching the little one whimpering in his crib, even though he was warm and comfortable in his blankets, the little boy was still bothered by something.

Leon imagined that he wasn't hungry, since you had fed him not long ago. Then he thought it might be his diaper that was dirty, which he soon confirmed.

So the baby was in his arms the next second, he put the little boy on the changing table and changed him properly, not forgetting a single detail, from carefully wiping him down with a wet wipe, to the ointment he had to apply to prevent diaper rash.

He checked the diaper to make sure it was fastened properly. Once he'd checked everything, he rocked the baby in his arms until the little one fell asleep again.

He even sang a lullaby, one of the little boy's favorites. He still thought it sounded ridiculous, but he didn't care as long as it soothed the baby.

Every time he looked at the little one's face, he couldn't hold back the loving smile that always appeared on his lips. It was still hard to believe that he had his own little family.

It's still clear in his memory when you announced that you were pregnant, the uncertainty and fear that consumed him. The anguish he felt, the apprehension of being a bad father. As well as the shock he felt when he received the news, since it wasn't something either of you were expecting. Not least because you had just started living together, so it was a lot all at once. But nothing that shook the relationship, quite the opposite.

But every time he saw you laugh, every time you came home with a little baby thing, whether it was clothes, shoes or even a toy. He couldn't contain his joy at the thought that he was going to be a father, that he was going to have a child.

It wasn't long before he started buying lots and lots of things for the baby, rattles, diapers, baby cloths, various types of educational toys, plush toys and everything else.

In a matter of weeks, the spare room in the house was full and ready to receive the baby, even if you weren't that far along in your pregnancy.

Not only did he become even more protective, the kind that wouldn't even let you lift a thing, but he accompanied you throughout your pregnancy. From start to finish. Even though he sometimes had to leave for work, he never failed to call you, even if it was late at night.

He always made video calls to see how you were doing, even talking to the baby in your belly on the phone. Even if they were quick calls, he still made sure they happened.

It was obvious that he wanted to be there for you, and he made it clear whenever he could, because he did everything for you, simply everything. Craves? He'd arrange anything you wanted. Going out late at night to buy a slice of cake in a particular flavor? Well, he was there. He would go to the end of the earth to find whatever you wanted.

When you were uncomfortable he was there, always whispering kind things to you, always trying to calm you down and relax in his embrace, trying to give you all the security you could have. He still remembers when your water broke, you were so calm, and he was about to have a heart attack.

Yet he was with you the whole way, holding your hand as you went into labor.

But all his worry went away as soon as he heard the baby's cry, the little being that had just come out of you. He still remembers the unconditional love he felt as soon as he laid eyes on the little one, as soon as he saw you cradling the boy in your arms, crying with exhaustion and joy. Just as he was crying as much as the baby, he felt so happy that he couldn't imagine being anywhere else but there with you and your bundle of joy.

"What are we going to call him?" Leon asked through tears, wiping away his own with the back of his hand.

"I don't know, sweetheart, we agreed that if it was a boy you'd choose." You say in a whisper, giving him a small smile. Rocking the newborn in your arms.

"No, I'd rather you chose." He says softly, running his fingers through the baby's thin golden strands, which by the way had the same hair as his father.

"Leon-," he doesn't let you finish, giving you a kiss on the lips. Letting his forehead rest on yours, looking at you with tear-filled eyes and a sweet smile.

"You've already given me one of the greatest joys of my life. Nothing could be fairer than for you to choose any name you like." Kind words that made your heart melt, and you just nodded.

At that moment he realized that there was no better place in the world. That there was nowhere else he wanted to be, all he needed was you.

While he was lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that the little one had already fallen asleep, making cooing noises, his mouth hanging open while he slept peacefully. Even the way he slept was like Leon's, it was funny to see how similar the two of them were.

Then he slowly placed the little one in his crib, tucking him into the covers and making sure he was warm and comfortable for the rest of the night.

He stayed for a few more minutes, humming some more until he was sure the boy wouldn't wake up too soon.

After that he moved into the kitchen, where he found you awake, which was enough to make him wrinkle his eyebrows.

"Love?" He asks softly, moving towards you.

You answer him with a smile, giving him a hug, "You should have called me."

He shakes his head, kissing the top of your head, "I didn't have to."

You pout, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder.

"Here, I've made your tea. I've also put out a slice of cake for you." You murmur with a smile, pointing to the plate on the table.

He chuckles, holding your face and kissing the tip of your nose.

"You're amazing." He whispers before walking over to the table and sitting down, taking a sip of tea and eating the cake, which, by the way, was his favorite flavor.

So you sat next to him, waiting for him to finish eating silently.

"Your food is fucking good." Leon says, taking a bite of his cake and smiling at you.

You couldn't help but giggle, knowing that even if you burned the food, he'd eat it and say it was good.

"No, you're just being nice." You say softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He laughed genuinely, entwining his fingers with yours. Then he lifted your hand and kissed the back of it.

You were always amazed by his loving gestures, which he always made towards you. And so the two of you remained until he had finished eating, rubbing his thumb against your hand to give it a gentle caress.

When he had finished, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, looking at you with a smile. But you couldn't help noticing the dark circles under his eyes, just as he still had a few scratches and bruises all over his body. As well as the scars, some new, some old. All a mark of his profession.

"Did you have another nightmare?" you ask, running your fingers along his cheekbones, smiling softly.

He nodded with a tired sigh, leaning into your touch, "No big deal."

You knew that he always hid these things from you, not least because it took time for him to feel comfortable sharing the events of his mission with you.

"You can tell me, smartass." You said smiling, rubbing your nose against his, letting his hand rest on the small of your back.

His lips curved into a small smile, just as his eyes met yours. And that was enough to make you blush slightly, no matter how long you'd been together, he always had that effect on you.

The rain began to fall harder outside, enough to make you both look out of the window. The rain left a comfortable atmosphere in the kitchen, just the two of you sharing the warmth of your bodies, making that cold night a little warmer.

You picked up the dishes and took them to the sink, taking the opportunity to wash them right away. And it wasn't long before you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, just as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his warm breath beating against you.

"I swear to God I love the smell of your lotion." He purrs, rubbing his nose against your neck, hugging you tightly.

You smiled, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. Even if it was late at night, those moments were so precious to you both. A little intimacy was always nice.

But even with all the affection coming from him, you could feel how tense his muscles were, how his breathing wasn't very regulated. Every time he had these nightmares, they took a while to wear off, and he was still scared for a good few hours.

You then turned to him, held his face in your hands and looked at him seriously, "You should have called me."

He knew how this conversation would go. But to be honest, he wasn't paying attention to your speech, only to the way your lips moved as you spoke, your sweet voice entering his ears. Even if it was you scolding him.

All he could do was give you a silly little smile, stroking your cheeks with his thumb. No matter how much you talked, he would forget the next day. He just didn't want to worry you with his work matters.

Gently he put his index finger to your lips, whispering, "Why don't you hush, darling?"

You widened your eyes, preparing to protest, but he interrupted you, giving you a loving kiss. The kiss was full of affection and tenderness, just as he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist once again, gluing your body to his.

Without giving you time to say another word, he carried you in his arms, taking you to your room like a princess, as if you weighed nothing, he did it with the purest ease.

His grip was firm, as if he didn't want to let you go, he wanted to have you there, in his arms.

Your room was dark, lit only by the faint light of the moon, while the rain continued to fall outside. It wasn't long before he laid you down on the mattress, letting you sink into the soft surface.

The door locked, the baby asleep, just the two of you in that room. The perfect moment for what was about to happen.

No matter how many times Leon looked at you, he always lost his breath, his breath caught in his throat.

You were so beautiful, so perfect, he didn't know how he had been so lucky to have found someone like you, and he couldn't thank you enough for that.

His hands began to move slowly up your thigh, callused fingers caressing the soft skin, letting his hand wander over the flesh, touching you with all the passion he had to offer. And he would do this for the rest of your life.

His mouth finding your neck, his hot breath making you gasp, letting him do whatever he wanted with you.

Soon the wet kisses began, leaving his lips hovering over the weak spots that he knew, he knew exactly where to touch, because he knew well that every touch of his made your body shiver with desire.

"You're beautiful." He whispers, giving your thigh a light squeeze, feeling the soft fabric of your nightgown on the back of his hand.

You give a sly smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

He soon understands what you want, and he gives it to you right away. A tender, passionate kiss, gently capturing your lips.

You don't know how, but he always manages to show his devotion to you with every kiss, every touch, every night of love. He makes it seem like the first time, always showing you how much he loves you.

His fingers keep tracing your thigh, feeling how warm your body gets from his touch. Your body reacting under his, squirming and shivering, an incentive for him.

When he pulls away from you a little, just to stop the kiss. He nibbles your lip, lifts your leg and grabs the back of your thigh.

Making a point of giving you wet kisses all over your neck, shoulders, collar bone, all to hear the sweet sounds that escaped your lips every time, the way you begged softly for him to continue.

"Oh, fuck Leon..." You whimpered, watching his fingers purposely wrap around the strap of your panties, he was taking his time.

As he always did, because he wanted to make sure he gave you all the affection he could give.

As soon as their trail of kisses went down to your chest, he spared no effort in giving little kisses to your nipples, which were already hard, crying out for any kind of touch and attention.

It was more than enough for you to let out several moans and low squeaks, letting your hands nestle in his golden strands, feeling the softness they contained.

Both his hands slid under your nightgown, and before long his fingers were playing with the waist line of your panties, fingering and stretching, all the while keeping an eye on your every reaction.

The look he had in store for you was yours alone, he had never looked at anyone else like that. Nor would he ever, you were the only one capable of bringing it out of him. The only one.

Just as you never tired of looking into those gentle blue eyes, similar to the color of the sky, or even the ocean. You lost your breath every time.

And there he went, slowly dropping wet kisses over the thin fabric of your nightgown, feeling your body tremble beneath his, just as he made a point of running his fingers over the wet surface of your panties, only to give a smug smile, knowing that he could get you soaking wet for so little.

As soon as he reached your navel, he lifted your nightgown completely, exposing your lower body, which was enough for him to let out a low noise, excited by the image in front of him. Which only fueled his cock to throb even more under his pants.

"I wonder what I did to make you like this." Leon said with a sly, mischievous smile, sliding his index finger down your slit.

Did he know the answer? Of course he did. But it was nicer to hear it from your mouth, your sweet voice echoing through the room.

"You know, you just need to touch me..." You said with a pout, looking at him with piteous eyes, a look he already knew well. And yet it broke his smile every time.

"Because of me?" He purrs, pushing his fingertips against your covered pussy, teasing you as far as he can.

You whimper, spreading your legs as if it were an automatic reaction from your body. Understanding the signal, he pulls you a little closer to the edge of the bed, taking off your panties and sliding them down your legs, soon the garment was lying in a corner of the room.

You were there, completely exposed to him, legs dangling from his shoulders, clit throbbing and begging him to do something.

It felt like magic, every time he touched you he was able to drive you crazy with the smallest things. You often got wet just watching him, seeing the way the muscles in his arms flexed every time he held your legs tighter.

Or the way he always looked at you throughout the process, as he positioned his face close to your center, biting and licking your inner thigh, making sure to leave soft marks all over the area. He loved looking at the love bites the next day, not least because you looked beautiful with each one.

"You're all mine, aren't you?" He asked in a whisper, which sounded more like a question to himself. Especially because he didn't even need to hear the answer.

You were about to answer, but your mind turned to crumbs as soon as he started planting wet, caressing kisses in your folds, letting his tongue linger in certain spots.

His wet muscle slid into your wet pussy, making you arch your body and tremble under him. The tip of his tongue brushed against your clit, swirling around your sensitive part, enough for you to roll your eyes and moan a little louder.

"That's so good, so good..." You mumble, biting your lower lip to hold back your moans.

Every time he eat you out, he didn't hold back with the noises he made, he didn't even care about the slurping noises he made, or the way he did it in a completely sloppy way.

Not least because he never wasted any time, it wasn't long before he was fucking you with his tongue. Moving in and out, hitting all your sweet spots.

It didn't take long for you to be a mess, moaning and whimpering, your sounds echoing around the room. Your hands nestled in his hair, pushing his head against you, letting him get buried in your thighs.

Despite this, you couldn't help but crave his cock, a need to have it inside you, you needed him fucking you.

"Leon..." You called out, rolling your hips against his mouth, you could already feel your orgasm approaching.

He smiled sideways, kissing all over your intimate area, making a point of running his tongue over it in the process. The way he did this so masterfully left no doubt that he knew exactly what to do to bring you to the edge, he knew exactly.

As soon as he started tongue-fucking you one more time, it was enough for you to come apart in his mouth, gushing out all your climax. You could feel your body hot and bothered, your mind confused and without any other thoughts. It was surreal the way your orgasms with him were always that intense.

Just as he spared no expense in giving you sloppy, wet kisses on your wet folds, as if he were smoothing the area, taking the opportunity to clean up the mess that was between your legs. Even though he was about to make another one.

"It tastes fucking good, love." He purrs, licking his lips and lifting his head.

Having the beautiful image of you, with your legs spread, sweaty body, chest rising and falling. The way your eyelids were closed and your lips were open was more than enough to send a wave of electricity to his cock. Which, by the way, was already leaking pre-cum, the wet spot on his sweatpants was already clearly visible.

He wasted no time in removing his pants and underwear, letting his cock pop out. Which was a divine sign for you, seeing every inch of his shapely body, the way he was hard as a rock.

His cock resting in his palm, as he gave it a few small pumps, watching the precum drip down a little. Despite this, his eyes were focused on you, the way you bit your lip and stared at him.

"Please?" You ask in a whisper, spreading your legs even wider for him.

In response, he gives you a puffy smile, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, his sticky liquid pooling with your own juices.

You whimper and pout to get him in at once. As if on command, he obeyed, lifting your legs over his shoulder and fitting himself into you. Hissing once he was all the way in, the way your walls clenched around him was enough to elicit a grunt from him.

"So fucking eager..." He whispers in your ear, taking the opportunity to nibble on it. Making you gasp easily.

"Oh-Oh, so deep!" You moan, your nails sinking into the muscles of his back, a reaction he loved every time.

You can't say how, but he thrust into you in such a sensual way, his hips rolling with a dexterity you couldn't even describe in words. It was calm, sexy, who knows how you could describe it.

His eyes never left yours, he could reach all your weak points, all the places where he made you roll your eyes and curl your toes.

At that point, he didn't even try to understand you. Not least because you could only mumble half-words, whimpers or moans, and he couldn't have been prouder to leave you in that state. Your mind so foolish as he fucked you numb.

"Are you going to come already, love?" He asks softly, kissing your cheeks and pulling you even closer.

"Mhmhm." You hum and nod, feeling your walls tighten around him. Just like the feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you were beginning to feel.

He chuckled, speeding up his thrusts, making an even louder sound of skin hitting skin. He wouldn't be long either, he'd probably come right after you.

And there you went the moment he started making circles with his thumb on your clit, you're sure you went to heaven at the same moment.

Your lips parted only for you to let out a silent scream, a noise that came from deep in your throat. He was quick to pull you into a hot, thirsty kiss, moving at a much faster speed than before.

He wanted to get there now.

In and out he went, feeling his cock throb with each jerk of his hips. On the last thrust he came, thrusting deep, spilling all his seed into you, as deep as he could.

He let out a grunt through your lips, holding your sides tightly.

By the end you were panting, covered in a thin layer of sweat. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead on yours, giving a silly, tired smile.

"Sore?" He murmurs under his breath, trailing kisses down your cheek.

"Maybe a little." You whisper, closing your eyes and sinking into the mattress.

He then gets off you and places you properly on the bed, rolling you under the covers, and then doing the same. He hugs you from behind and cuddles you, giving you massages in the places he knew would be sore. He loved worshiping your body, and you couldn't complain.

"I love you." He says, full of love and tenderness.

"I love you too." You return, kissing his hand.

You fell asleep a few minutes later, and he watched you sleep as always, giving you kisses and caresses from time to time.

He loved you so much he couldn't explain it, you were his comfort. Everything he needed most. You and your son were his adored little family.

And the way he loved you, he knew that you would be the death of him.

Oh God, how he loves you.

[rockyteriyaki]

okay SO my beloved ezra @hellohallowedhalo inquired after my tags on this post, which made me realize that my FIRST EVER F1 FIC is almost an entire year old (??????) and THEN i read THIS MASTERPIECE by @fast-burn and it set off a nuclear bomb inside my head...so i wrote a free-use-ish factory followup to RSWT. thank you all for one year of freaky derangement <3333 ily

Daniel leaves Red Bull as a driver and becomes—he doesn’t even know what to call it. In his contract, it says ambassador. On suspended Twitter accounts, they call him a blood bank.

Max doesn’t know about that part, because Max doesn’t have Twitter, and even if he did he wouldn’t be term-searching his own name with asterisks in the vowel places like a nutter. Daniel’s people tell him soothingly to block and report, if he insists on being on social media in the first place, and Daniel does–he reports. He doesn’t block. Sometimes, he screenshots.

It had been a leap, obviously, to go from–from a driver, incidentally bound to the whole blood thing, to then this: a full-time gig. A singular purpose. They’d gone over the language of the contract in more detail than Daniel thought was possible, rewording and reworking every point until it maybe resembled something that seemed less obviously like exploitation, but even after it was all printed out with the little RBR letterhead, it felt swampy in ways nobody could explain or do away with.

Still, when Daniel put pen to paper, it was with life-ruining clarity. I want this, I want this, I want this.

“Ah, here you are,” Max says, knocking on the glass wall of one of the conference rooms in the factory. He cups his hands against the pane, like a kid against a department store display. “Are you hiding, Daniel?”

“Nah,” Daniel says. He hasn’t been, actually; he just wanted someone to find him. He puts his phone down as Max pulls the door open. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Max says, and it’s so uncomplicated Daniel doesn’t feel the need to even ask a followup, which is what he likes–loves, even–about Max. Daniel crowds him in the doorway, leans on him.

“You need it?” Daniel whispers.

“Yes,” Max says. “Please. I have, already–they have everything they need, so. We can go now, if we are back before the hour.”

Daniel reaches behind Max, pulls the door closed. It pushes Max into him a little, feet falling forward. Max blinks.

“Why not here?” Daniel says. He stretches his neck out, which he knows is a dirty move, but it works; Max’s nostrils flare. His eyes dart to the glass wall, the big transparent window that looks out onto the floor where dozens of people in navy polos are working to make sure Max can deliver them to glory next year.

Well, Daniel is one of those people, technically, now. Working.

He steps back towards the conference table, a dark fake-oak thing that’s big enough to fit the shareholders and their massive egos all side-by-side. Max follows. The number of times they’ve done this and it hasn’t ended in one or both of them coming can be counted on one hand. Max knows this, and Max is following, with a blinding willingness reminiscent only of Daniel’s own desire to get Max’s fangs on him, in him, since the first time he saw that glossy pink shine over them.

“I was just thinking about my contract,” Daniel says, as casually as he can manage, which is probably not at all. He scoots onto the table, kicks the rolling office chairs out to carve a gap. “You can, y’know.” Max nods fervently, even though Daniel isn’t making any sense. “Like, anywhere? If you wanted.”

He can pinpoint the exact moment the images parade into Max’s mind. Daniel in meeting rooms, instead of bathrooms and backseats. Daniel on his lap. Daniel over dinner, only one plate between the two of them because–because he’s Max’s—

Max sinks down to his knees, cradles his head in Daniel’s thighs. It takes Daniel a moment to pinpoint the feeling through the denim of his jeans, but the saliva gives it away–Max is rubbing his gums over the seams. The hooked points of his fangs snag and retreat on the fabric.

“Hey,” Daniel says, on a shaky exhale. “Is that good teeth? Or, like, bad-idea-Daniel teeth?”

“If I don’t, I will bite you here.” Max gestures miserably to the glass wall. “And then, probably against the window too.”

There are people walking past now, and Daniel can see them look inside only long enough to register who’s who, and then avert their eyes. Daniel’s laughs turn into moans. He can’t help it. Max laughs too.

“Go on then,” he tells Max. “They don’t pay me enough to keep secrets.”

[mmogurl]

Last to Fall Chapter 2 - The Future Is Now

18+ | 4.3k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Dragonseed Reader | less miserable now and more typical, alcoholic, still needs reassurance Aegon | half sister reader - you're not really a maid anymore - I guess that means you got a promotion? P in V, smut, wholesome, fluff, this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

I've decided to take this story home and revisit some of the scenes from the show going forward. Because the more I looked back at them, the more I realized a lot of messed up shit happens in season 2 with Aegon that I don't personally like! Let it be known, I'm mostly using scenes from the show, but I'm also going to be mixing in a lot from the book from now on. So, it's going to come off like a weird amalgamation of show, book, and my own fiction thrown in there! So, here we're going to overhaul the small council meeting where Aemond makes a fool out of Aegon and we're going to bring it in line with something more like what they would have discussed if the show followed the battle plans from the book.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall). I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - The Future is Now Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for headers and I actually made the above gif myself! Tags: @coffeebooksrain18, @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna, @meggletoomanyfandoms, @theanbitchless (If you wanna be removed or added from/to the taglist, just let me know)

-You “I find it highly unorthodox for you to keep your mistress as cupbearer, Aegon,” Alicent spoke up with clear distaste written upon her features as you filled her glass. You smile awkwardly in acknowledgment and she quickly diverts her eyes from you and onto the king. “We cannot trust one such as she with matters in need of the utmost secrecy.”

“I trust her more than I do any of you,” Aegon says nonplussed by his mother’s complaint. “I wish for her to be here and so she shall. Now back to more pressing matters.” He turned his sights towards Prince Aemond, gesturing for him to continue as he took a swig of wine from his cup. “Please continue with our efforts on the war front, Brother.”

Aemond sat perched like an owl in search of prey, one hand resting on the table while the other manipulated a golden coin effortlessly over the tops of his knuckles. The prince always held a slight smirk taut at the corners of his lips that unnerved you, holding back a viciousness that seemed barely restrained. He had his eye trained on you and it made the hair on the back of your neck prickle with discomfort. It was a relief when he met Aegon’s gaze and spoke.

“Ser Criston is marching on Rook’s Rest. The castle is small, weakly defended, and Lord Staunton sits on Rhaenyra’s council,” his words are deliberate and precisely executed as though he’d rehearsed the very words all morning in the mirror, yet you know that’s not the case.

“Whittling away at her morale seems a worthy effort indeed, “Aegon says with a devious grin. “And when Rhaenyra sends reinforcement, which she is sure to do… We’ll be lying in wait?”

You notice Lord Larys Strong’s brow raise in concern at the mention and soon the meaning washes over you as well. You quietly step towards Aegon, filling his cup and looking down at him anxiously as you try to swallow the lump that is forming in your throat. He does not return your worried stare, instead engaged deeply in the conversation with his brother, excitement written all over his face at the prospect of action.

“Precisely,” Aemond replies with cool clarity, his expression more serious now. “Cole will set the bait with his forces and Staunton will send word to Dragonstone for support. The only aid that might answer in time is a dragon and when it arrives, the trap will be sprung and we shall answer it with advantage on our side.”

“One less dragon to face later,” Aegon chuckles mirthfully, not taking the situation seriously at all. If you could, you would grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he snapped out of it and realized how dangerous this idea was.

“Surely we cannot risk losing our king on the field of battle?” Lord Strong finally speaks his dislike of the strategy out loud. “Would we not be handing the throne to our enemies?” You cannot help but feel relieved that he has voiced your fears, even if it wasn’t for your benefit.

The other members of the council all share glances with each other, neither Lannister, nor Orwyle, nor Ironrod willing to lend their thoughts. You take your place to the side of the long table, standing next to one of the newly appointed Kingsguard, regarding the scene with trepidation.

“I agree,” Alicent states with a growing look of concern. “What if you are both lost? Then who will rule?”

“You show such little confidence in our capabilities, Mother,” Aemond replies in a voice that sounds surprisingly sweet despite the venomous sarcasm that laces his words. “Surely encouragement would serve us better at this hour.”

Alicent’s eyes widen as he puts her on the spot. She quickly schools her expression, her lips flattening as she clenches her jaw briefly before speaking again. “Yes, of course, I wish you both well. But that does not change the potential losses we might suffer. Strategies do not always go as planned.”

“They do when you have dragons,” Aegon quips, still treating the war as though it were a game. You are glad to see his spirits improved since that very first time the two of you laid together, but could certainly do without the impetuousness he’s displaying at the moment.

“What if Rhaenyra sends more than one dragon?” Lord Strong poses the possibility to the king.

“It is highly unlikely,” Aemond interjects with a smug menace so intense that only the bravest of men might continue to argue. “Rhaenyra will no doubt be advised not to venture into battle herself and Daemon is presently holding down Harrenhal.”

“And no doubt she would be loathe to send another of her sons forth after what happened to the last,” the king concurs, letting out a derisive, pointed laugh. He runs his tongue along his teeth as though anticipating the taste of blood that will be spilled and relishing in it. “No other dragon yet tamed offers a significant challenge to the might of Vhagar and Sunfyre combined,” he adds, his eyes beaming with pride and superiority.

“Indeed,” Prince Aemond replies with barely curling lips, his eyes sharp as he regards his brother.

The Queen Dowager sighs, knowing she has lost this dispute and exchanges a despairing glance at Lord Strong. Your attention is drawn back to Aegon as he picks up his stone ball and places it in the large dish on the center of the table.

“We will leave when the second sun rises, then?” Aegon confirms to his brother who nods in return. It seems clear to you now that they have already spoken of this matter in private before even bringing it to the attention of the small council, and that it had already been decided upon.

The king steals a glance back towards you, nodding slightly in your direction as his eyes urge you to follow him. You eagerly oblige, anxious to have some words with him about his risky tactics in private. Aegon heads back to his chambers and you shadow him quietly as two of his Kingsguard take up the rear.

You almost can’t recognize the sweet and tender lover you’ve come to know so intimately. The sorrowful and lonely man you once comforted now replaced with a bloodthirsty warrior, a change you do not fully understand. Perhaps you are not fulfilling your duties as his companion well enough to satisfy the demons that haunt him, for he now seeks relief in brutality instead of you.

Aegon throws open the doors to his apartment and you are right behind him, closing them shut as you enter. He walks towards the table, not wasting any time in pouring a chalice of wine for himself. Bringing the cup to his lips, he takes a long swig before turning to face you.

“Alright then. Get on with it,” he says with mild annoyance. “I can already tell you are not pleased.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you say against your best judgment to quarrel with the king, but spurred by concern for him. “Any number of things might go wrong. I would prefer you stay here where it is safe in the keep. With me.”

He rolls his eyes with clear indifference to your worries, striding up to you confidently and running his knuckles softly against your cheek. “It will be fine,” he counters smoothly, his voice smooth like silk as he leans in to press a brief kiss against your lips. “We have the upper hand with two dragons, love.”

“Did you not ask me to sit in on your council meetings so that I might assist in offering you sincere and valid counsel?” you retort, hating his lackadaisical attitude towards the situation.

When he’d first requested you be his cupbearer, you had argued that you had no place in the chamber of the small council. Aegon had insisted though, stating he needed someone with a keen eye who was on his side for once. Now you wondered if he had even meant those words.

“Yes, but this is a matter of war, not court nor politics,” he replied with a scoff, turning and walking towards the center of the large room. “And you are just letting your womanly heart lead you.”

“Womanly heart?” you repeat, feeling your shoulders tighten at his cruel implication. “Or perhaps you must accept that war is not a child’s game,” your voice runs cold as anger grips you. “That a king has a responsibility to his people and not just to his own sense of glory.”

Aegon turns with a chuckle, regarding you snidely. This condescension actually bothers you more than the fury you expected from him. “Tis not glory I seek, but the alleviation of my boredom,” he says plainly and there’s an apathy in his voice that makes your chest ache.

“Am I not enough to keep you engaged?” you ask quietly, feeling your wrath fade into pain.

The king’s smile falters, a flicker of guilt crossing his face as you speak. He hesitates a moment before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. “Love…” he murmurs, sounding a bit repentant now. “It has nothing to do with you. I simply feel… constrained in this city. While everyone else fights to retain my crown, I am expected to stay here and be idle. I wish to prove myself.”

He closes the distance between you both, his violet eyes piercing into yours. Aegon reaches out to cradle your face, his touch gentle and his demeanor much warmer now. “I know that you worry for me,” he says, his voice tender as he rests his forehead against yours. “But I cannot lead my army from behind these castle walls. I trust you understand?”

“You didn’t have to be so cruel,” your voice is a whisper as you try to hold back the desire to cry. “Treating me as though I matter not to you.”

Aegon tugs you closer towards him, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your head. He lets out another weary exhale, seemingly releasing all of the tension that had held him taut moments prior. “I didn’t mean to be a bastard to you, my darling,” he says, voice heavy with remorse.

“You are not my enemy,” he adds, leaning back slightly to kiss your golden crown of hair. “There are whispers afoot within the Red Keep, they abound in the city as well. The people all speak of my cowardice. How I have usurped the throne and now hide in my castle, afraid to face the might of the true heir’s forces. I find myself on edge.”

“You might have told me this sooner,” you reply, shifting your head to peer up at him. “I am here for you, my king, and you alone. If you cannot confess such tensions to me, than they will only serve to devour you whole. I am not here to judge, but to listen, to offer support.”

“Such habits are not easy to break,” Aegon says with a flicker of shame adorning his features. “I have been ridiculed my entire life and it has made me averse to showing weakness.”

“But you revealed yourself to me and it brought us together,” you argue his absurd logic. “Do not hide from me. Ever.” Your hands slide across his chest, moving upwards until your fingers dance delicately across the line of his jaw.

Aegon lets out a shaky breath, his body easing under your gentle touch. “What is it about you, love?” he asks closing his eyes as your hand rakes back into his hair. “You always manage to disarm me so completely, breaking down the fortress I’ve spent a lifetime erecting.”

He opens his eyes and smiles at you with amusement. “Very well then. I will not distance myself from you, or at least I shall try not to. But I still intend to join Aemond and fight. Can you stand to watch me go?”

Your grip tightens slightly in his hair at the mention of the battle. You had hoped you could sway him to stay, but it is clear now that he will not listen. The king was dead set on clearing his name, on making his constituents believe that he truly deserved his seat on the Iron Throne.

“You must promise me that you will be careful,” you plead with him, knowing deep down that such a request was impossible to accommodate in war. “Do not take any unnecessary risks.”

“That shouldn’t be hard to accomplish from the back of a dragon, my darling,” Aegon lets out a small laugh, resting his hands on your hips. “But I will do my best and I have no intention of dying at Rook’s Rest.”

You lean up to kiss him once more as your hands wrap around his back, clinging fiercely. His lips are hot and wet and so alive with passion as he hungrily returns the embrace. You cannot help the gnawing feeling beginning to coalesce in your gut, that something horrible is going to happen to him. Each press of your lips against his echoing your desperation and the fear that he might not return to you.

He walks you back to the table and plucks you up, placing your bottom on the hard surface. His hands work at bunching up your skirts, lifting and pushing them aside so he has access to you. His hands slide up to your hips, hooking his fingers into the waistline of your smallclothes and pulling them down. He doesn’t waste any time in spreading your thighs apart with his knee, stepping closer until you can feel just how much he wants you.

“I’ll return to you, love,” he says breathlessly between kisses against your jaw. Aegon urgently unties his breeches as he continues, “Nothing could keep me from you.”

His lips crash into yours, devouring your mouth with intensity as he grinds against you, making you weak in your desire for him. Withdrawing from your mouth, he peppers kisses down your neck, and along your décolletage before letting out a gasping groan of lust.

Pulling you to the edge of the table, his purple eyes appear black with arousal as they lock onto yours. He slides into your wet slickness in one fluid motion, filling you completely. Aegon leans forward again, his face buried in your neck as he grasps onto your hips and moves into you with a desperate frenzy.

His lips nibble against your lobe as he whispers raggedly in your ear, “You will be waiting for me when I return, won’t you?” his words almost sounding insecure. “Tell me you love me. Tell me you need me. I must hear you say it.”

You are powerless to your king’s wishes, especially when he is fucking you so well. “I love you,” you say panting as his throbbing cock invades your wanting cunny. “I need you.”

Aegon groans loudly at the sound of your voice, the table quaking as he increases his pace, his hips snapping forward and driving into you harder, deeper. He is relentless in his efforts, pounding into your core with an urgency you’ve never experienced before. “Say it again,” he demands, his breaths short and heavy. “Again…” he growls as he buries himself within you, his grip on your hips bruising as he holds you steady.

It is hard to concentrate, let alone ponder the king’s strange choice of dirty talk, but Aegon’s vulnerability has always drawn you to him. It seemed mixing physical and emotional release at the same time was becoming quite commonplace for you both and you could not deny how therapeutic it felt for you either, to give of yourself and receive his devotion in return. Even if you had not been together for very long, you were sure that your attraction to Aegon was not simply fueled by sexual pleasure alone.

“I love you, Aegon,” you repeat, breathless and gasping as he chases his high within you.

He moans your name, a pained sound as he leans back and takes in your expression. “Make me believe it,” he pleads, pressing wet kisses against your face as he punctuates each spoken word with a particularly hard thrust.

“Gods, Aegon!” you cry out, feeling your peak near as his pelvis rolls mercilessly against your pearl. Each deep invasion paired with a ruthless grinding motion that makes your toes curl. “I-I do…” you confess with shaky breaths. “I have since I came into your service.”

“You what? I need to hear you say it,” he prompts you yet again, searching always for reassurance in you. “Let me taste the truth in your words,” his voice is ragged as he beseeches you.

Your hands that had been braced on the edge of the table, now find his hips and grasp firmly. The motion of your bodies like waves on the ocean, and it is not long before the familiar feeling of completion spreads through your inner walls. He immediately devours your lips in a desperate kiss. It’s tender and passionate at the same time, making you forget every rational thought or worry that you had.

Against his lips you reaffirm your adoration, your voice rough as you speak your convictions, “I love you, Aegon… Only you make me feel whole.”

A grunt breaks from the back of Aegon’s throat as he buries himself completely inside you, prodding against the tender entrance to your womb. His length swells as he spills his seed within you, his body twitching as he moves to wrap his arms around you.

Aegon collapses against you for a time, capturing his breath as you leave hungry kisses all along his neck and shoulder. You make a startled sound of shock when he suddenly pulls you off the table. His hands slip under your bottom, urging your thighs around his waist and you cling to him dearly making sure you don’t fall.

He holds you tightly in his arms and moves to the large velvet couch against the wall, flopping down on it and pulling you into his lap. Aegon cups his hand behind your head, pulling you close until he is all you can see, his violet eyes fixed on you.

“I don’t believe I’ve said it as much as I should,” his voice is low and quiet. “But I love you as well.”

Your expression softens from one of lusty playfulness to something more sincere at his heartfelt words. It was true, he hadn’t often, if ever, acknowledged his direct feelings towards you, but you’d still known that he cared. It was plain to see that needed you, even if he didn’t always admit it.

“I will come back to you, I swear it…” he says with a knowing smirk, reading the affection in your tender eyes. “And when I do, I intend to you make you mine forever.”

“How?” you ask quirking a brow in confusion, the haze of your orgasm still lingering.

“By wedding you, of course,” Aegon replies, as though it is the most obvious answer in the world. “I will take you as my second wife. There is no rule that states I cannot. Besides, it might be seen as disrespectful to my namesake if I did not follow in his footsteps.” His hand lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as he regards you with a dreamy look, as though imagining a future where you are his wife.

“Do you think it prudent to cause an uproar with such a controversy?” you say with a look of worry deepening your brow. “With the civil war? With the food shortages? As you said, there are already whispers among the people. Should we give them more to talk about?”

Aegon releases a heavy sigh, a look of displeasure crossing his face as his jaw clenches. You continue before he can get too upset.

“I am overjoyed that you’d have me as your wife, my love.. But I am also concerned. Perhaps we could have a private ceremony? Keep it secret until the war has passed?” You run you fingers gently from his forehead down his temple until your palm is resting on his cheek.

“Why should I keep you a secret!?” he asks petulantly. “My wife, Queen Helaena, sits in her rooms all day, crying and speaking to herself. I cannot blame her for the pain she has suffered, sadly, she was quite fragile to begin with… But as it stands, she is no queen. The people could do with a figurehead, someone to follow, to reassure them that everything is alright in these trying and uncertain times. I have never been adept at such persuasions, but you… You would be wonderful in that role. It is how a queen should behave.”

You shake your head and let out an exasperated breath. “Be that as it may. You seem to forget that I am not a noble. The people will not accept it.”

“And you forget that I am king,” Aegon replies with a shrug. “In fact, I will fix this issue before I leave for Rook’s Rest.” He gently places you to his side, setting you onto the plush cushions. You watch dumbfound as Aegon gets up from the couch and ties the laces of his breeches absentmindedly as he crosses the room to his desk. He takes out a piece of paper, a quill, some ink, and begins to write.

“What are you doing?” you ask with furled brows as you make your way over to him, impossibly curious to know what he is up to.

“I’m writing a decree,” he says, not looking up from his parchment. “It is not unheard of for nobles to petition the king to legitimize their offspring. Given you are my father’s daughter, that would elevate you to a Targaryen princess, with all the rights and privileges the title entails.” Aegon finished writing and signed the paper with a flourish. As he blew on the ink, impatient for it to dry, he added, “I think a princess would be considered more than suitable for a king, don’t you?”

You are dumbstruck at the precise and confident way he asserts such a complicated matter as concluded. “Is such a thing possible? Truly?”

“It’s as good as done,” Aegon says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It is likely for the best that I take care of the issue before I leave for battle. I would not wish for my mother to think she had any say when it comes to your well being in my absence.

He examines the parchment, making sure that the ink has set and then carefully folds it. You watch as he melts a chunk of red wax and presses his seal into it, sealing the decree and placing it aside on his desk.

“There, the matter is resolved,” he says with a satisfied smile as he pulls you down into his lap. “Now what are you going to do while I’m away?” he asks softly. “Without your king to serve?”

“You might still change your mind and stay here with me so that I do not wither away from loneliness,” you riposte with a slight puff in your cheeks as your lips purse.

The king lets out a laugh, shaking raising a finger to your mouth to shush you. “You are incorrigible,” he purrs fondly, placing a kiss upon your pouting lips. “You know I must go, love. I need to prove it to Mother, to the council, to the people… Hells, even to myself that I am worthy of the crown.” He looks at you earnestly, his eyes searching yours as though trying to convince himself that he’s right in this. “But, I will miss you terribly. More than you could possibly know.”

“What will I even do without you?” Leaning in you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, letting your nose nuzzle against his skin. You sit back in his lap more, fixing his hair by tucking it behind his ears dotingly. “Everyone treats me even more coldly now that we are together so openly. They all turn their backs to me as though I’m invisible,” you say sadly. Even though he is not due to leave for another day and night, you feel as though you miss him already.

Aegon’s arms tighten around you possessively, his hand caressing your back. “When you are queen they won’t dare turn their backs to you,” his voice was low and gravelly. “They will bow and scrape at your feet , and if they don’t…” he trails off, leaving the threat hanging the air.

“Ah yes,” you say with a morose chuckle. “There is nothing more civil then the threat of a noose.”

He laughs wholeheartedly at your jest, his eyes beaming with affection. “You worry too much,” he says with a warmth written in his expression. “There is only one matter left unresolved as far as I’m concerned.” Aegon looked you over with an almost stern gaze, sizing you up.

“And what is that, my love?” you ask with a curious glint in your eye.

“You haven’t said yes yet,” he says with a smooth grin, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “Will you be my wife?”

You gaze into his eyes, a happiness building in your chest as you realize the levity of this moment. You’re not sure if it’s the right choice to make in terms of harming his reign as king, but deep down you know there is only one answer you could ever give him.

“Yes,” you reply with a humble smile, your eyes threatening tears as you lean in and taste the lips of your lover, your future husband if the Gods so willed it.

Read Chapter 3

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 7

Building Better Habits

So, yesterday we talked about creating a personal mission statement. I hope it helped you get a little clearer on what you really want from 2025. And if you haven’t gotten to it yet, no worries! It’s there waiting for you whenever you’re ready. Now, today, let’s chat about something that can make all the difference in turning that mission statement into real-life action: building better habits.

You know, it’s easy to think that changing our lives means making huge, dramatic shifts, like completely overhauling your entire routine or signing up for a year-long gym membership. But I’ve got a little secret for you: It’s the small changes that add up to big results over time. Don’t believe me? Stick with me for a sec.

Imagine this: You’re standing in front of the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in hand, scrolling through your phone. You’ve had a crazy day at work and feel like you deserve some relaxation, right? But then you stop and think, how can I use this time to move toward my goals? What if instead of diving into social media, you set the phone down for 5 minutes and just breathe or read a few pages of a book? That’s it. It’s simple, but it’s powerful.

I’m not talking about doing a complete 180 on your life today, just about carving out a little space for something that moves you in the direction of your best self. Small habits like these are actually the key to creating lasting change. They sneak up on you, turning into something much bigger without you even realizing it.

Here’s an example: Let’s say you want to get healthier before the new year. Instead of starting with an intense workout routine that’s hard to stick with, how about you start by drinking a glass of water every morning when you wake up? Then, once that becomes a part of your routine, add something else, like taking a walk after dinner or swapping your afternoon soda for herbal tea. These small shifts will eventually snowball, and soon enough, your overall health will be better than ever.

I know it’s tempting to try and change everything at once, but here’s the truth: Trying to change too much too quickly will only set you up for burnout. Instead, focus on one habit. Be specific. Want to read more? Set the goal to read one page every night. One page, that’s it. Stay consistent. No matter what, show up for that one page every night. Eventually, you’ll find that reading becomes a natural part of your routine. And remember, celebrate your wins. Don’t wait until you’ve read a whole book. Celebrate that one page. Seriously, give yourself credit for showing up and sticking to it.

This approach is a lot like what we talked about with setting SMART goals, right? The "small" part is just like making sure your goals are specific and realistic, something that you can do today that’s still meaningful. We’re breaking things down into simple, manageable actions that add up to big results, one step at a time.

When I first started setting daily goals, I knew I needed to create habits that would help me manage my time better. Instead of diving straight into complicated time-management systems, I started with one simple habit: writing a to-do list the night before. No fancy planner. No specific apps. Just a piece of paper and a pen. It took maybe five minutes, but it helped me wake up with clarity the next day. Over time, this simple act turned into a consistent habit that made a huge difference in how productive I felt.

Okay, now it’s your turn. Think about one small habit you can work on today, something that’ll take just a few minutes but will make a real impact. It could be anything: drinking water, stretching, journaling, or even just sitting in silence for 3 minutes. Make it small. Make it simple. And most importantly, start.

Don’t worry about getting it perfect. It’s not about being flawless; it’s about showing up and making progress, even if it’s just a little bit at a time.

And, as always, I’d love to hear how it’s going. Drop a comment about the small habit you’d like to start implementing.

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[mediumgayitalian]

“I made this for you.”

Nico stares, blankly, and the freckly hand extended out to him. Twisted around the long, calloused fingers, snagging on a black-lacquered chipped nail, is a bracelet.

Hesitantly, Nico takes it.

It’s woven in some way. He doesn’t recognize the exact pattern; Annabeth probably would. Not a braid, certainly, not any particular shape he can recognise. It’s bi-coloured, a twist of black and yellow, strings wrapped around them in an aborted spiral, almost. There’s a snag a third way into the bracelet, a tiny little error betraying its homemade status.

Under the guise of still inspecting the bracelet, Nico peers through his eyelashes. Will’s attention has long since shifted to somewhere to the left of him, rocking back on his heels, teeth gnawing into his lips as he hums. No longer extended out between them, waiting for Nico’s next move, his hands pick at the colour on his nails, picking off the polish chip by chip.

Dozens of similar bracelets stack his wrists, his ankles; rainbow of colours clashing horribly with the mint green of the cheap plastic shoes.

“What…” He pauses, clearing his throat. He feels Will’s attention on him, the warming rays of his soft smile. Surely this can’t be…

“It’s a friendship bracelet! We were makin’ pottery in Arts ‘n Crafts; I got distracted and the whole thing went squelch.” He blows a raspberry, smacking his fist into his hand. Nico jumps. “Totally collapsed! Anyways. Made a friendship bracelet for all my friends, yellow for me, black for you. I got a matching one!” He holds up his his wrist. It takes Nico a second of squinting to find the matching one — yellow and black, twisted, just like the one he’s wearing, nestled against the others like he’s been wearing it for years.

I made one for all my friends.

“You, uh.” His palms sweat. He tucks them behind his back before Will notices, although the twinkle in his eye tells him he might have an idea. “You’ve done this before.”

It’s not much of a question. Will takes it as one anyway.

“Mhm. You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to, I can take it —”

Nico wrenches himself away. Will blinks.

“Absolutely not,” he says, before he realizes what’s coming out of his mouth. “You made it for me. It’s mine.” In a flurry of movement, he tugs the bracelet over his hand, twisting the loosely hanging part around his thumb.

Slowly, giving him time to pull away, a freckly hand comes back into his space. When Nico — frozen — doesn’t flinch away, they rest on the jut of his wrist, the scar on the palm of his hand.

“I got it,” he murmurs. Nico glances up to find Will already looking at him, blue eyes wide and imploring and soft.

Nico has never associated blue eyes with softness. Intensity, maybe. Clarity. Softness, to him, has long been the understanding brown of Reyna’s, the softly glowing embers of Lady Hestia’s. The golden glow of Hazel’s, especially, ever-smiling. (The gentle, endless, sun-warmed clay brown of Bianca’s. Too big for her face, hidden behind her bangs; except, of course, when Nico was overwhelmed and miserable and needed her, needed her, needed her. Or when the lawyer came to their room door, steel-faced, giving the same news, and Nico would slide a small hand in hers, squeezing.)

Will’s eyes are soft, though, he realizes. Like cotton candy at DC fairs, like grape hyacinth, like the blanket he toted around as a baby. Like a sunny smile and golden hair and teasing winks when everything is too too much.

“There.”

With a gentle tug, the loose strings of the friendship bracelet tightly pull the bracelet snug against his wrist. Looser, barely even touching, Will’s fingers follow the contours of the bracelet. He lingers. Nico wonders if he can feel his pulse, pounding, endless.

“Thank you,” he manages, finally. His throat is dry. “For.”

The rest of his sentence won’t come out. Before he can panic, Will smiles; beams, really, eyes crinkling shut, and the short breaths clattering his lungs fizzle out entirely.

“Oh,” he says, several things slotting together at once. “Oh.”

“Anytime,” Will responds grinning, squeezing Nico’s wrist once more before bouncing off. “See you around!”

He’s far gone before Nico finds his voice again. But he smiles, still, eyeing the pretty bracelet, and whispers, “You, too.”

[soaringwide]

Pick a Card: What is blooming for you this spring?

Spring is always a magical time for me, and I know I'm not alone. This time of the year, I can feel excitement rise in my heart, the desire to make plan, to savor life to the fullest. And every time feels different, like I'm living it for the first time, with only a vague memory of what it was before.

So I wanted to make this pick a card collective reading about what is blooming for you this spring? I will leave the message open to welcome any area of life and type of message, and provide not only an energy check, if you will, but some advice on how to welcome it fully.

How does that work?

Take a moment to recollect yourself, breathe, close your eyes if you need to, focus on the moment. Look at the 4 pictures and select the one that draws you in the most. Not the one you think looks cooler but the one that creates that pinching feeling inside of you. The one that makes you feel it has something to say.

It is possible to feel attracted to more than one pile, just as it is possible to only find parts of the reading relevant. Remember that this reading is meant for many people so it won't be perfectly applicable to your situation.

PILE 1

Cards: 3 of Swords Rx + Page of Swords Rx + Death + The Vow + 9 of Wands Rx The Gem / 7 of Swords + 10 of Swords + Stress + Page of Cups + Courage + 5 of Cups Rx + Ace of Swords / The Protectress + The Shaman

For the energy-check part, The Death arrives like the return of lifeblood in the branches, shaking things up to leave space for the new buds that are to come. This beginning of spring, a massive cleanup of old ties and energies is occurring. Cutting away the old to let the new emerge.

You're in the process of leaving behind a tie that, while not negative per say, was definitely something you had to leave behind in order to move forward and rise to the skies. It seems this tie was something you found value in for a very long time, but you made or are making the choice to move forward.

This comes somewhat like a battle you had to experience within you, as it was not easy to separate from and left you feeling victimized and defeated, like the entire world was against you or out to get you. This whole situation caused intense heartache and a feeling of almost unbearable internal pressure which you may have turned against yourself in fits of self destructive impulses and anxiousness.

On some level you were or are still resisting this change, or rather, what this change is going to lead to. You are trying to control the outcome and refusing to surrender due to a lack of trust or faith. You are trying to burn the steps to reach the end of this uncomfortable time quicker.

The good thing is by going through the motion of this change, you are finding your inner light. From the pressure is born a beautiful gemstone that catches on the tiniest gleam. You are also not only learning to stand up for yourself and your values, but also to embark on a new journey.

There will be a time of transition. At first you will feel guilty of what you're leaving behind which will cause a lot of inner turmoil and tears shed. You will feel like you're getting away with something you shouldn't be. You will feel like you've hit rock bottom in a rather dramatic way, but the good thing is that the only way to go is up!

What's going to follow this is that you'll become at peace with your own feelings, will learn to be sovereign in yourself no matter what's happening outside of you. You know yourself and what you stand for and you won't get put out of balance anymore. You're learning the courage it takes to stand up for your emotional peace and you will know how to defend it ferociously.

Once you'll be done mourning what you've lost, you'll find a lot of clarity and desire to initiate the next step of your life in a very stimulating phase full of new ideas. You'll realize that the key thing in your situation is to trust the process and let it flow.

Now onto some advice on how to navigate that:

You need to be mindful of how you spend your energy, and by that I mean, you need to get enough rest. Yes spring is stimulating and you may find yourself wanting to make a billion plans, but you've got to understand that your body and mind need rest and relaxation too. Protect yourself, say no when you need to, even to yourself. The other more spiritual side of this is that you're somewhat vulnerable at the moment and need to be careful not to be swayed by the opinion of others. Stand strongly in your own skin, your own beliefs and don't give into something that doesn't truly align with yourself.

You inner fire is unique and you need to remember that whatever it is you will become, you will always be you in all your beautiful strangeness. So embrace what it is to be you, don't be ashamed of if or try to hide it, and shine of your fucked up light.

PILE 2

I just wanted to preface this reading with a warning, it's a bit difficult but the advice is very hopeful and sweet so please don't feel too down about it because it will get better!

Cards: The Poet + The Queen of Cups Rx + Healing + Ace of Cups Rx + Let go + Courage Rx + Ambition + 5 of Pentacles + Acceptance + The Unseen + Bottled Up + The Pilgrim + Anger / 10 of Pentacles Rx + Forgive + Death Rx + Overwhelmed + High Priestess Rx + Gloom + Blessings and Curses Rx + The Shaman Rx / The Devil + 4 of Swords Rx + 10 of Swords Rx / Temperance Rx + Manic + 9 of Cups + Love + Joy + Harmony

In the first few moments of spring, I see you slowly leaving a phase where you didn't allow your emotional needs to be met, or allowed yourself to feel something specific. Due to past experiences, you've felt like your deep feelings where not listened to and were dismissed. Your own light was not seen and remained in the dark because it seems that no matter what emotion you shared, it only led to chaos around you. You ended up discarding them like an useless relic, baring yourself from the ability to heal with them, ending up stuck in place because you don't see that from accepting the sorrow you can learn lessons that will lead you to bloom again.

You are scared of leaving something behind, something that doesn't fulfill you emotionally like it used to, something you had great ambition for. Maybe it's a relationship. Maybe it's a passion or a dream. Ultimately, this is leaving you feeling like you're stuck in the winter, unable to feel the new energy of spring, because you're not accepting this new wave of change.

You are about to embark on a new journey, but unable that you are to see the top of the mountain, you remain wandering in the snow doubting it's even worth it because all you can see is a difficult path. This is causing a lot of anger, which ironically is the only emotion you let out, everything else is trapped within.

This spring, I see your going through this struggle but learning very important lessons in the process. Basically, you're on a journey of self acceptance, both of your flaws and qualities you don't express to the world.

There will be a need to let go of familial expectations that were placed upon you and to forgive the hurt it did to you. It seems you will be resisting change until it becomes overwhelming in order to force you to make a choice. Once that point is reached, it will be hard to see the situation from a different perspective, as in, you will be emotionally drowning into feelings of despair, but, really, that's necessary because you've been shutting yourself from that for too long, keeping busy in order not to think about it.

The process of spring is to free yourself from those heavy bonds. Here is the advice in order to navigate that better:

First of all, you need to cool down and restore your balance. Don't try to fix things by being overly active but instead try to find some rest and moments of silence to listen within.

Also, there is plenty of love around you to be felt and to enjoy, perhaps even a new relationship or one that you closed yourself to. The advice is to be positive about the future. Really all those advice cards are super bright so you're getting massively encouraged.

You will be able to share joy around you once those dark yucky feelings have been cleared.

What if you stopped resisting? I think you would find change doesn't have to be so difficult and painful, and that there is beauty and sweetness waiting for you just around the corner. Open yourself, be playful, and try to remember the wonder of a child discovering spring once more.

PILE 3

Cards: The Bridge + The Moon + Let Go + 10 of Wands + Relieved + Ace of Pentacles + Queen of Swords Rx + The Comic / The Devil + Renewal Rx + Anger Rx + Strength + Forgive Rx + Page of Cups + You are Deserving / 2 of Swords + Gratitude + 2 of Wands + Gloom + Energy

The energy check in this change of season indicates for you a time of transition, where you're crossing from one stage to the next.

At the moment, you're letting go of the very introspective vibe of winter, that forces us to retreat within and inside and rest while waiting for the return of the light. Perhaps this winter was the opportunity to reflect over something painful for you and you've finally reached the point where you can disengage from it and move forward. Because it seems like a burden you were carrying is being released, which is bringing you a renewed sense of hope. To be more precise, you were working hard to carry that weight and now that you finally were able to release it, you feel at ease again.

You're lightening up, seeing the humor and joy of life and learning to be in a more lighthearted mood. I see you really enjoying this change of season and having some type of mood shift. After the heaviness of winter, your new found freedom gave you a reason to smile again.

It also seems you're getting finally getting some new opportunities that were previously barred from you which caused a lot of resentment, because you felt like you were owed something you weren't getting and it was getting in the way of your prosperity. I see that you still have some work to do on that front as you may be lacking courage to seize those opportunities because you feel too unsure of yourself and vulnerable. You may want to isolate yourself as a mean of protection, despite wanting those opportunities direly.

This spring, I see you will need to be careful not to fall back in your old limiting habit of letting yourself be trampled on. You might have a tendency to repress your anger, because you have been told it's not a good emotion to express, which is true, but in your case, your anger can free you because it makes you aware of other people stepping over your boundaries. I'm not saying go punch your boss in the face, but use this anger to reflect on why exactly you feel disrespected, and use that as a motivation to change your circumstances and honor your boundaries.

I also see, and it's a continuation of the previous message, that you will build your character by learning that you don't always need to forgive. It's okay to burn the bridge and take care of yourself first. You don't need to accommodate everyone. Keep your gentleness for the people who deserve it. And I'm saying that because in your case, the balance is waaay off.

Something else that's coming this spring is a message to open yourself to new emotions, perhaps regarding to love, be it romantic or platonic. There is a strong message that you feel like you are not deserving of it and you are somewhat shutting yourself to discovering this part of yourself. Spring is the seasons where so many bubbly feelings awaken and you can welcome that in your heart.

The advice on how to navigate this time better is to, first, try not to shut yourself off the blessing that are coming to you. It's easy to expect the worse and blinding yourself in the process. The key to move forward is to find a more positive mindset, not to assume that everything will be doom and gloom but daring hoping for the best! A mindset exercise you could use could be gratitude. There's already so much good things happening around you but you might not see it because you focus a lot on the negative. Allow yourself to dream and plan the future from an optimistic perspective.

The final message is very fitting considering the title of this reading, as it is advising you to redirect your energy to make your own flowers bloom, not other's. Work on cultivating a fertile soil within yourself and you will be in a much better mindset to attract good things. Remember that while it is altruistic to want to help others, you can't do it if you are yourself depleted, you need to help yourself first.

PILE 4

Cards: The Fool + Knight of Wands + Joy Rx + 3 of Cups Rx + Intrusive Thoughts + The Mentor + Wounded Heart + The Animal + Jealousy / The Portal + King of Pentacles + Bottled Up Rx + 4 of Cups + Let Go + The Star Rx + Fear / The servant Queen

Much like all piles, the start of spring and current energy check, is the time of a big renewal for you, indicated by the Fool. It's the start of a new journey with a fresh mindset and an adventurous heart. However, I can sense that it's very much a desire of yours at this point and not something you can fully indulge in at the moment.

You don't quite dare to let yourself go to celebrate this new change you feel being birthed inside of you, because you have these automatic intrusive thoughts born from anxiety that you have a hard time detaching from. But I see you working on it with a mentor figure, perhaps a therapist, a teacher or someone wise close to you. You seem to be especially working on emotional wounds that are still fresh, or felt to be still fresh.

Also, you feel energy rise within you, a desire to pursue your passion, to start planning things, perhaps a trip or a festival, but something is stopping you from doing it. It's like you know you want it and will make you happy, but you can't access it and it kills your joy.

As a result, you sort of feel like a caged animal, caged in your routine and full of desire to break free, which leads to feelings of envy for what other are able to enjoy and not you.

What is blooming for you this spring is that, there is some type of adventure to be found despite everything. There is something you don't expect coming for you, a new adventure to be had.

It seems something is going to unlock prosperity-wise, something that has seemed blocked for a while but is finally giving you the ability to soar. However, you will have to seize it and not let your low thoughts get in the way of even noticing it. You will have to learn to let go of that tendency of yours. There is renewal, healing and blessings coming for you, but you will miss out if you let fear dictate your actions.

The advice on how to navigate the season is to stop believing that you don't deserve nice things. You have a tendency to self-sabotage and it's doing you a massive disservice. It ties into what I was saying earlier about not blocking your own blessings because of your negative thoughts, because there is something great within your reach.

You must nurture your mind because it's through your mind that you experience the world. It's like a big lens and if it's dirty you get a blurry vision of reality. Work on cleaning your lens and you will see that the world will become an open field for adventure as a result.

[daisynik7]

Iris

And I don't want the world to see me, ‘cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Mature – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.5k (I went way over than I was supposed to, lol)

cw: switching POVs (2nd person reader, 3rd person Eren), canon-universe, VERY canon-divergent, consider this a what-if scenario, major AOT spoilers up to season 4, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), fingering 

Summary: At the Battle of Fort Slava, Eren Jaeger, hell-bent on launching his ultimate attack on Marley, injures himself to pose as a wounded soldier, granting him admittance to the hospital to finalize his plans. You, an Eldian volunteer working at the hospital, start treating this new patient, nervous about his mysterious demeanor. Eventually, you learn that you have much more in common with each other than you think. 

Author’s Note: Thank you @ichinosejager13 for your second request for the y2k karaoke party! I did something totally different this time; I wrote a fic set in the canon universe. I thought it fit well with this song, so I hope you like it! While it’s set in the canon universe, it is very obviously canon divergent, so please remember I took a lot of liberties with this. I am in no way suggesting that any of this is what I wish happened in canon. I just think it was an interesting idea to write. Also, I understand that this will seem very out-of-character for Eren, but let’s just roll with it because it's all in good fun, lol. 

Like, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

Fort Slava, huddled in the trenches. Blade through his leg, bullet in his eye. This is the last vivid memory Eren can recall as he stands in line outside the hospital, waiting to be admitted. Some asshole Marleyan imitates explosion sounds, causing all of those around him to fall to the ground, cowering in fear. They suffer trauma from the battlefield, and even Eren, with a clear conscious now, is affected by it. A kid, another Eldian dawning the same yellow armband as he is, steps towards them, kneeling down to help them up. He even assists Eren, correcting his armband to his left arm instead of the right. Luckily, it goes unnoticed by everyone else, which is exactly what he wants. 

It's all part of his plan; the attack on Marley. It’s been in the works for months now, starting with his infiltration of the army, fighting alongside Marleyans and Eldians alike. He thought he’d have better clarity of the situation, maybe get convinced to call the whole thing off after bonding with other solders through the tragedies of violence and war. Unfortunately, it’s only made him realize how much more he needs to follow through with it. Nothing will ever change in this cruel world unless he’s the one to do it. 

There are days when he gets cold feet. He’s tempted to re-evaluate, find a way back to his home of Paradis, reunite with his friends, devise a better plan and figure it out together. But in all the futures Eren can see, his current plan is the only one that will work. The only one that will grant him the freedom he’s been chasing his entire life.  

The process is slow to get a room in the hospital. Luck remains on Eren’s side when he’s assigned a private room. It’s barren; a single-bed, just long enough to accommodate his stature, withered sheets and rusted iron on the frame. There’s a small nightstand beside it with two drawers to hide his belongings, which is essentially nothing, and atop is a small lamp, illuminating the room in a dreary glow. It’s not luxurious, but it’s enough for the time-being. Because that’s all Eren needs right now: time. 

Eventually, Zeke will find him. They’ve been contacting each other for a while now, and Eren has a firm grasp on what his older brother is trying to convince him to do with the Founder’s power. While he doesn’t agree with his idea to euthanize the entire race of Eldians, Eren needs to entertain it long enough to manipulate Zeke into letting him use his royal blood. 

It's all convoluted and fucked up, he’s aware of that. Somedays, he wishes he could escape this curse without doing anything at all. That one day, he’d be gone from this world, liberated from his Titan power, saved from this burdened life. This isn’t what he imagined while reading all those books he and Armin would marvel at as kids. This isn’t the freedom he was hoping for. 

He rests in his pathetic, yet oddly comforting bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. His leg and eye are still wrapped in bandages, so a nurse should be coming soon to check on him. There’s a faint commotion out in the hallway, but Eren is too lazy and too uninterested to investigate. Soon, it subsides, and the door swings open, revealing a women around his age, wearing a nurses uniform and the yellow Eldian patch on her left arm. He recognizes the attire from battle; the army had a few nurses stationed at the fort for casualties. 

“Mr. Kruger?” she asks. 

It takes him a second to remember the alias he decided to use. He confirms it, nodding his head silently. 

She gives him a warm smile, introducing herself. “I’ll be helping you from now on.”

~~~

You started working at the hospital a few months ago. For Eldians, it’s nearly impossible to be accepted into higher education, so nursing school was never an option. With opportunities so scarce, your best bet was to apply for a volunteer position at the hospital in hopes of using that as a steppingstone for an actual paying job. You don’t expect a promotion any time soon, not even in the near future, but at least you’re spending your time helping others.

While it’s rewarding, it isn’t glamorous or pretty in the slightest bit. Because you lack the proper education, your tasks mostly include bathing, feeding, cleaning up any accidents or messes. Occasionally, if your patient is open to it, you spend time with them chatting, doing activities with them, listening to their stories. This is rare, though. Most that are admitted are Marleyans who refuse to speak to you because of your status. Some are even reluctant to have you help them in the first place. The Eldians, sadly, are usually too traumatized to open up, so you do your best to make them comfortable however you can. 

When you meet your newest patient, Eren Kruger, you don’t expect him to be any different from the rest. You are, however, surprised at how young he is; he can’t be any older than you, judging by his appearance. His records show nothing except for his name and his status as an Eldian, which isn’t unusual, so you don’t think much of it. “Mr. Kruger, I know you must be hungry,” you start. “Lunch will be arriving soon. If you need assistance, I’ll be here to help you.”

He acknowledges you with another curt nod, remaining silent. You can’t help but notice how brilliantly green his eyes are. Have you ever seen irises like his before? You let the inappropriate thought vanish quickly before you ask, “Would you like me to bathe you now or after you eat?”

At this, his brows tighten. “Bathe?” 

“Yes, Mr. Kruger. We can bathe you before or after lunch, it’s up to you – ”

“I don’t want to bathe,” he says, avoiding your gaze. 

You blink at him, unsure how to respond. “Surely you must want to be clean – ”

He interrupts you again, muttering, “How can I, when I’m like this?”

You understand his hesitation now, not needing further explanation. Sometimes, patients with missing limbs have expressed concern submerging themselves in a tub full of water, not wanting to get their bandages wet. Quickly, you clarify, “It would be a sponge bath. We can do that while you’re lying in bed, actually. And your bandages will stay intact.”

This seems to be the answer he’s looking for. His expression relaxes when he says, “After. I want to do it after I eat.”

You smile softly at him, noting it on your checkboard. “Understand. I’ll go check on your meal now. Is there anything else you need from me?”

A beat passes before he replies, “Pen and paper. For letters.”

You write it, reminding yourself to bring it when you return with his meal. “Got it.”

A few minutes later, you return with a tray of food along with a wad of paper and two pens. You set it on his nightstand beside him, waiting for him to move it. When he doesn’t, staying still, staring blankly at the foot of the bed, you clear your throat. “Mr. Kruger?”

“I’m not hungry,” he murmurs. 

“But you haven’t eaten all day. You need nourishment if you’re going to get any better.”

“And who says I want to get better?” He glares at you, startled by the intensity in his gaze. 

You swallow hard, nervous, but still resilient. “You have to eat. You owe it to yourself after what you’ve been through.”

“And how would you know what I’ve been through?” His voice is steady, a hint of venom, barely enough to sting. But you’re determined. You sit at the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him. Reaching for the tray, you set it down on your lap, sighing. “I don’t know. I have no idea what war is like out there. All I know is that it’s not great for us here. At least out there, you’re fighting together as a unit. Marleyan, Eldian, it doesn’t matter. You’re working to defeat our enemy. And who knows? If we ever win the war, maybe life will be better for us here.” You shove the tray towards him, glaring back at him. “So the least you could do is try to see it through and survive, right?”

He studies you carefully, contemplating how to respond. Glancing at the tray in front of him, he smirks, scooping a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. You ease up, tension releasing from your shoulders. 

After a few more bites, he speaks. “Who do you think the enemy is?” 

Just when you thought you were in the clear, he asks you another question. “It was the Mid-East Allies. That’s who you fought at Fort Slava.” 

“But who do you think the real enemy is?” He’s finished with his potatoes, now moving on to his meatloaf. 

“Well, I suppose it’s whoever the government says it is.” You’re unsure what kind of answer he’s searching for.

“And if they say that we’re the enemy, then what?” He points between you, leaving you confused. 

“We…?”

“Eldians. Devils.”

“No, no. The Devils are on the island. We’re…we’re not like them.”

“Are you sure?” He stuffs the rest of the meat into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it all down. “What makes you think you’re any better here than you are there?”

Your face feels hot now, and you start to stammer. “Because…because that’s what we were told. We’re on the right side. They’re on the wrong.” 

His plate is nearly clean now. He slides his fingers on the remnants, licking it off before chugging half a glass of water. “What if I told you there’s a place for people like us? A place where you wouldn’t have to walk around with an armband. A place where you were treated fairly. Would you want to go to a place like that?” 

You feel yourself drawn in by his words. The idea of it sounds impossible. Ever since you were born, you were taught to know your place in this world. That place was here in Marley, destined to be a second-class citizen. You were told that the island across the sea was full of devils like you, but because you’re here, you’re better. You can’t deny that you’ve been curious what life is like out there. All this time, you thought it must be worst, secluded on an island, hated by the rest of the world. 

But is this life any better? Secluded in your own community and still hated by the rest of the world?

You pick the tray up from his lap, muttering, “I’ll go get your sponge bath ready.”

He doesn’t add anything else, watching you silently. You walk towards the door, ready to leave. Before you do, you say, “And to answer your question: I would.”

~~~

It was supposed to be innocent banter, that’s what Eren intended. He figured he could chalk it up to the trauma speaking for him, that she wouldn’t even be remotely interested in what he had to say. He thought she’d be like all the other naïve, brainwashed Eldians, ignorantly believing everything that was told to them. He realizes soon enough that he was wrong to underestimate her.

She comes to him every day, fulfilling her volunteer duties. Their daily routine begins with breakfast, then a morning stroll in his wheelchair out in the courtyard. Sometimes they’ll play chess at one of the tables, sometimes it’s checkers. Lunchtime comes, and then it’s time for a bath, one of Eren’s favorite parts of the day. Her hands are always gentle, gliding along his skin with a damp sponge. They’ll do another stroll outside, this time on his crutches, where he practices how to walk. Dinner arrives when it’s already dark out, and occasionally, he’ll ask her to read the latest news from the paper. 

While all this happens, they talk. They talk a lot. 

As expected, she figures out that Eren is from Paradis, though he bends the truth about his true intentions for being here. She doesn’t know about his Titan powers, thinking he’s a refugee seeking sanctuary here. Surprisingly, she isn’t offended about it; in fact, she’s curious. They spend most of their time together sharing stories of their childhood. Eren describes life in Paradis, she describes life in Marley. While there are stark differences between their upbringings, there are also blatant similarities. And together, they come to the gut-wrenching conclusion: Eldians are terrorized wherever they are, whether it’s here, or across the sea. 

Eren has only sent one letter in the past two weeks, and that was to his friends back home, informing them that he is in Marley, safe and sound. He doesn’t disclose his plan to them yet. In all honestly, he’s not sure what the plan is anymore. Zeke still hasn’t found him, nor has Eren gone out of his way to be found. What Eren does know is that he enjoys spending time with the woman who helps him. So much that he’s losing grip on what he’s supposed to be doing here. He has to do something soon.

It comes to a head one night, three weeks after he was admitted to the hospital. Eren requests for another sponge bath after dinner; it was a hot day and he worked up a sweat during their afternoon walk. She helps him strip his shirt off, starting with the wet, warm sponge at his chest, massaging small circles onto his sticky skin. He watches her carefully, noticing her eyes lingering on his body more so than usual. 

He speaks softly into her ear, leaning in close. “I have something to tell you.”

She continues above his waist, hands gently scrubbing, not bothering to look at him when she responds. “What is it, Eren?”

He’s thought about this all day. The plan. “Would you like to visit Paradis?”

This time, she does look at him, confused. “What?”

Louder now, and more confident, he says, “Come to Paradis with me. See what it’s like there.”

She scoffs. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is my home.”

“They treat you like nothing here,” he argues. “At Paradis, you’re somebody. We can be safe at Paradis.”

She stops, tossing the sponge into the bucket of water beside her, frustrated. “Safe? After everything you’ve told me? You said it yourself; you’ve been terrorized by Titans since you were a kid. Every nation in the world wants Paradis gone. How can it be safe?”

He swallows thickly, gripping her hand delicately in his. “I can’t explain everything right now, but I have a plan. We have a plan.” He recalls one of the last memories he has of Armin, his brilliant friend, suggesting a small-scale Rumbling, enough to scare the rest of the world from attacking Paradis for centuries. He dismissed it quickly then, but now, he considers it. Could this be their best option? Instead of the billions of casualties Eren had originally devised? “You just have to trust me for now. Once we’re there, I can explain everything.”

She stares at him, clearly in shock from his suggestion. He doesn’t blame her. Eren is asking her to give up everything she knows. 

“Eren,” she starts, squeezing his hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can do that.” 

He smiles at her, brushing his thumb across her knuckles delicately. “I understand. I know it’s a big ask, and I shouldn’t have expected you to say yes. I just…I just think I know what I can do for Paradis to make it safe for people like us. Somewhere we can be ourselves, where people will know us for who we are, and not for what they see on our armbands.”

“It sounds like paradise,” she says quietly.

“It does. And I think I could make it that way. I know I can.”

She sighs, retrieving the sponge again. “I want to believe you, Eren. But I don’t think I can throw away my life for something I’m unsure of.” She starts to slide his pants off, ready to wash below his waist.

“Please, just consider it. I plan to leave soon, within the next few days. I just have to send out a letter tomorrow, and I should be ready to go.”

“You’re leaving? Already?”

“I know what I have to do now. I can’t waste any more time when we can end this war now.”

She peers at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I…” 

“What is it?” He sits up, leaning in close to cup her cheek, brushing away her falling tears. 

“Will we ever see each other again?” Her voice is trembling, lips quivering. His heart sinks into his stomach, seeing her like this.

He presses his forehead to hers. “I’ll find you when this is all over. I promise you. Whatever you do, don’t go anywhere near the shore, okay?” The small-scale Rumbling should only affect the fleets, which will be in the middle of the ocean, far from the shore. Still, he can’t risk anything happening to her. Not when he isn’t there to protect her.

She nods, not asking for any further explanation. He presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to bring us peace.” 

~~~

Eren asks you to drop off a letter in the mailbox, addressed to someone named Azumabito. Apparently, she is an ally to Eldians who is stationed here in Marley, so she can arrange a ship for him to head back home. 

There are still so many questions left unanswered, though you decide not to ask them. Maybe it’s foolish to trust someone you’ve only known for a month. But Eren has given you more truth about this harsh world that anyone else the entire time you’ve been here. And he’s the only one who’s ever promised you a better life. 

Two days after you mailed the letters, you receive a response. It’s addressed to you, though you’re sure it’s meant for Eren. There’s a fancy insignia stamped to one corner of the envelope: a circle with a triangle in the center, formed by samurai swords. You keep it safe in your pocket as you head for the kitchen, ready to deliver Eren’s dinner. 

He reads it when he’s finished with his meal. You watch as he scans the letter carefully, mouthing a few words under his breath. When he reaches the end, he looks up at you, a small grin on his face. “She’s arranged a ship for tomorrow morning, before sunrise.”

You gasp, surprised at how soon his departure is. “Tomorrow?”

He nods, folding the letter and tucking it beneath his pillow. 

You let out a deep breath, unsure what else to say. Noticing your quiet demeanor, he reaches for your hand to hold it. “I know this is happening so fast. But I’ve never been more certain about what I need to do until now.” He interlocks his fingers with yours, smiling. “And you helped me with that.”

“Me? How?”

“By being you. By giving me a chance to explain myself. Even when you found out I was from Paradis, you didn’t judge me. You got to know me. It showed me that there are people, good people, on this side. That even in a ruthless place like this, there is beauty to be saved.” 

You don’t say anything, throat too heavy with emotion to respond. Blinking away your tears, you take his tray from his lap, walking quickly to the door. Before you can leave, he asks, “Can you please come back to help me shave?”

Without turning to face him, you nod, exiting his room, stifling your sobs on your way down the hallway. Your heart yearns for more time with him. For the past few weeks, being here has been an escape from your painful reality. You’re not seen as an Eldian, you aren’t considered a second-class citizen. With him, you’re just you. 

You know that you can’t keep him caged here forever. Like a bird, he’s ready to spread his wings. He’s ready to be free. While you’re heartbroken to see him leave, you’re thrilled for him to fulfill his destiny. All you can hope is that one day, you’ll be reunited in a better place than here. 

You return to his room a couple of minutes later with everything you need to give him a close shave. His facial hair has grown out quite a bit since he arrived. You lather his face with a small amount of soap, scrubbing the suds off with a warm, wet towel. He closes his eyes, indulging in your relaxing touch. After mindful preparation, you begin to shave his goatee with a straight razor, pulling his skin taut, gliding the blade carefully across his chin, cleaning it after every stroke. When you’re done with his beard, you focus your attention on his mustache, delicately moving the razor until his skin is smooth and shaven. You smile as you wipe off any remaining residue with the towel. 

With everything discarded into the bucket of water set on the nightstand, you take this time to admire his face, memorizing every detail. The flutter of his lashes, the bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his jawline, the plush of his lips. It’s only now that you realize how close to him you are. You’re kneeling beside him on the bed, noses almost touching, your fingers grazing his smooth skin. He opens his eyes to look at you, and his breath hitches at the intimacy, glancing at your mouth. 

Before you can move, he closes the short distance, kissing you on the lips. As quickly as it happens, he pulls away, blushing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have asked first. I’m sorry – ”

You cut him off with another kiss, hungry for more. It’s his last day; in mere hours from now, he’ll be gone, and you’re not sure when you’ll see him again, if ever. It’s crossed your mind many times by now, how it would feel to be with him like this. The feeling of his lips on yours, the slide of his tongue in your mouth, the taste of his spit. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you’ve never thought about it. In fact, it’s been on your mind every night as you fall asleep, wishing you were in his arms instead of alone in your bed. 

He doesn’t pull away this time, sinking in deeper, slipping inside your mouth to swirl his tongue with yours. He’s just as sweet as you fantasized he’d be, luscious and rich in your mouth. His skin is smooth against your fingertips, tracing his jawline. One hand slides around your waist, tugging you closer to him, the other wraps around the nape of your neck, holding your head steady. You swing one leg over him, straddling his lap, hoisting the hem of your dress past your hips, revealing your panties. He moans, shifting beneath you in the bed to slip his trousers down, displaying his erection bulging in his underwear.

“Is this okay?” he huffs, catching his breath. His voice wavers, his only visible eye half-lidded with arousal, unable to keep his cool.

“Yes,” you answer, grinding yourself on him, kissing him sloppily. His grip is on your hips, guiding you to rut against his cock faster. The friction between you is enough to make you wet, your slick soaking through the fabric. 

“You’re an angel,” he whispers, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to make you feel good.” His thumb teases the elastic of your waistband, hand slipping inside to rub your clit against his fingers. 

“Eren,” you moan, his sensual touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He slowly slides two digits inside you, massaging your bud with his palm while he pumps his fingers into your sopping cunt. His cock is stiff beneath you, watching you ride his hand, cursing under his breath until you reach your climax, coating him in your arousal. 

You’re breathing heavily, in a daze from your orgasm. He removes his hand from you, slipping it past his underwear to jerk his cock. You reach for him, tugging his bottoms down his legs, replacing his fist with yours, stroking him eagerly. He whispers your name, bucking his hips in tandem with your movements. You’re aching for more, desperate to feel him inside you, feel him deeper. You position yourself correctly, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side to  tease the head of his cock up and down your folds. He sits up on his elbows, watching you with a nervous expression on his face. “Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod, smiling at him. “I’m sure. I want to be close to you, Eren.”

He swears, letting his head fall back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. You sink down on him, his dick stretching you out smoothly, still sleek from your previous orgasm. He moans, craning his neck to take in the lewd sight before him. “Oh my god,” he groans, thrusting his hips into you. 

You ride him slowly, his entire length filling you up to the brim. He plants his feet into the mattress to fuck you deeper, the metal frame creaking with every thrust. It doesn’t take long until you’re both coming together. He shoots his load inside you while you gush all over him, creating a wet mess between you that you couldn’t care less about in the euphoric state you’re in. You lift off him, rolling to his side, relaxing into the pillow with him beside you, cradling you in his arms. He gives you a smooch on the cheek, nuzzling his nose with yours. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“What?”

“You really are an angel,” he says, smiling at you.

~~~

Eren wakes up alone, and he’s almost convinced that it was all a dream until he spots the small note scribbled on paper laying his nightstand. 

It’s too hard to say goodbye, so I won’t. I trust you to keep your promise. We’ll see each other again soon.

With daybreak approaching, Eren leaves for the docks quickly with only the clothes on his back and letters in his pocket, including hers. With sunrise teasing the horizon, he makes it to the meeting place just in time. He recognizes Azumabito and greets her, explaining the situation as they board the ship. She informs him that they are waiting for several other passengers, so he makes himself comfortable by a window.  

A few minutes pass and one of the crew approaches him. “Mr. Jaeger, there is a woman trying to board, claiming they are with you. Do you know anything about this?”

He glances out the window towards the docks and to his shock, he sees an angel with a suitcase in hand, talking to Azumabito. His heart races, overjoyed as he jumps out of his seat, sprinting out of the ship to meet her. 

[sidekick-hero]

First Love, Second Chance (Part 5)

(steddie | explicit | @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt "make up sex" | tags: exes to lovers, canon divergence (Eddie lives), future fic (set 2001), Top!Steve, Bottom!Eddie, emotional sex | Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Find the whole thing on AO3

“Eddie,” Steve half-laughed, half-gasped, “Eddie, come on, let me open the door before we get arrested for public indecency.”

Eddie groaned against Steve’s neck, where he’d been busy leaving a trail of marks, but he loosened his tight grip just enough for Steve to fish his keys out of his pocket. It took him a few attempts—Eddie’s hot mouth biting and licking along his skin made it hard to concentrate—but with a triumphant little “A-ha!” Steve managed to push the door to his apartment open. The two men stumbled inside, into the darkness of the hallway.

For once, Steve was grateful that Robin had moved in with her girlfriend about a year ago, leaving him to find an affordable place on his own. If they were still roommates, he and Eddie would have had to come up with some other plan for alone time after sneaking out of the event.

A pang of guilt hit him for leaving his date behind so abruptly. Lisa had been great—a woman he could have seen himself with if he hadn’t just realized, with absolute clarity, that his perfect match was standing right in front of him. He silently vowed to ask the agency to send her a gift with a note that read something like, “I’m so, so sorry for being such an ass, but the love of my life came back, and I couldn’t let him slip away again.”

Before he could finish the thought, he was slammed against the wall with a soft “Oomph!” The impact knocked the breath out of him, but Steve barely had time to inhale before Eddie’s mouth was on his again, eager and demanding, lips soft and tongue insistent. Who needed air, anyway, when he had Eddie Munson’s kisses to keep him alive?

They kept kissing, the only sounds in the dark hallway their ragged breaths and the soft, wet glide of their mouths against each other. Steve had missed this—not just the physical attraction or the raw, undeniable chemistry that made every moment with Eddie electric, but something deeper. He'd had plenty of sex with plenty of people before and after Eddie, some of it really good, even great. But it almost felt unfair to compare anyone to Eddie.

Because what he missed most was the way Eddie made him feel.

For most of his life, Steve felt like he was just playing a series of roles: the obedient son, the all-American golden boy, the Casanova, the babysitter, the chauffeur. All these personas crafted to win attention, admiration, maybe even affection. Some kind of love.

But with Eddie, none of those roles mattered. With Eddie, he was enough. More than enough. He was everything. He could feel it in every touch, every brush of Eddie’s fingers along his cheek and down his neck. He heard it in the way Eddie’s breath hitched whenever Steve touched him back. He tasted it in Eddie’s fervent kisses, the way he couldn't seem to stop himself from claiming Steve's mouth, over and over again. Most of all, Steve could see it in Eddie’s gaze—a gaze that found him like a compass needle pointing true north, no matter the room or the crowd.

To feel Eddie’s undivided attention on him again, after being deprived of it for so long, was almost overwhelming.

When their lips finally parted to gulp down much-needed air, Steve rested his forehead against Eddie’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. He stared into Eddie's eyes, illuminated faintly by the light filtering through the street lamps outside. He hadn’t even had time to flip on the lights before Eddie was on him, and it felt like they were teenagers again—caught in that intoxicating swirl of hormones and love, a heady mix that made him feel drunk on desire.

"Are you sure?" Eddie whispered in the tiny space between them. At Steve's soft, questioning sound, Eddie nudged his nose against Steve’s and clarified, "I feel like if we keep going, we're headed straight for a home run. And I'd love that, Stevie, more than anything. But only if it’s what you want, too. Whatever happens next, I’m all in—completely and enthusiastically. If you send me home right now and tell me to call you tomorrow, I’d go, and I’d spend the whole night thinking about everything I want to learn about you and your life here, everything I want to share about mine. If you asked me to come to bed and just hold you, I’d feel like the luckiest bastard alive."

Eddie finally drew in a breath, like he’d been holding it in since he started speaking. Then he gave Steve that smile—the one Steve could easily fall in love with if he hadn���t already been there for years.

A giddy laugh escaped Steve, unable to help himself. "How could you not know?"

Eddie raised an eyebrow, amused. "Know what?"

"I’ve been sure since the first time you kissed me," Steve replied, "and then tried to bolt in a panic—until you realized you still couldn’t walk very far and fell down like a baby giraffe."

Eddie snorted, joining in the laughter. “You make me sound incredibly suave and sexy.”

With a grin, Steve tugged Eddie closer by the lapel of his coat and kissed him again, keeping it sweet and teasing. “Oh, you are, baby. So suave. So sexy.”

Eddie placed a hand over his heart with a mock-offended look. “Now you’re just mocking me. I’m mortally wounded—the knife twisted by the very man who owns my heart. Et tu, Brutus—”

Steve decided to silence Eddie’s theatrical rambling with another kiss, deeper this time, while pushing Eddie's coat off his shoulders. Eddie’s words melted into a pleased hum as Steve’s fingers moved deftly, unbuttoning Eddie’s shirt.

“I’m sure,” Steve panted against Eddie’s lips, pausing just long enough to look him in the eye. “I want this. I want you. We’ll figure out the rest, step by step.”

“You have me, sweetheart, for as long as you want me,” Eddie vowed, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m done running.”

“Good,” Steve whispered, his voice quiet but sure. It felt like time had stopped around them, the air between them thick and heavy like warm honey. Suddenly, Steve wanted nothing more than to see Eddie clearly, to look into those familiar brown eyes that always gave everything away.

Steve quickly shrugged off his own coat and pulled his shirt over his head. He couldn't help but smirk at the soft groan Eddie let out, his hands instantly finding their way to Steve’s chest, fingers threading through his chest hair. “God, I missed this. My precious.”

Steve chuckled, hooking his fingers into Eddie’s waistband and starting to tug him toward the bedroom. “I see your weird obsession with my chest hair is still going strong,” he teased.

Eddie followed him eagerly, his hands roaming over Steve’s skin like he was trying to memorize the feel of him all over again. “Can you blame me?”

Finally reaching the bedroom, Steve wasted no time pulling Eddie toward the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress. Eddie bounced, laughing with delight at how the scene felt like it could be from a cheesy porno. But his laughter quickly faded when Steve flicked on the bedside lamp and let his hands drift down his chest toward his waistband, making a show of getting undressed. Steve popped the button on his jeans, his hips swaying with a teasing slowness. His hands slid down his muscular thighs, accentuated by the tight fit of his Levi’s, before moving back up to tug at the zipper.

Just as Steve grabbed the waistband to pull his jeans down, Eddie slid off the bed, dropping to his knees in front of him in one fluid motion. Steve caught the slight wince that crossed Eddie’s face.

“You okay, baby?” Steve asked, concern threading through his voice. He knew Eddie had a habit of hurting himself in the name of sexiness.

Eddie chuckled, nodding. “Just my knees reminding me of the inevitable passage of time.”

Steve’s fingers threaded through Eddie’s curls, still as full and dark as they were the first time he’d done this. “Is that your way of telling me I should go easy on you, old man?”

He wasn’t prepared for Eddie’s response—a swift, almost desperate yank at the back of his thighs that pulled him closer, Eddie’s face nuzzling against the hard length straining against the metal of his open fly. The wet heat of Eddie’s mouth through the thin fabric of Steve’s boxer briefs was enough to draw a low, needy moan from his lips.

“Easy on me?” Eddie rasped, his voice already rough like he’d spent hours worshiping Steve’s body. “That’s the last thing I want. I want to make up for every single day we lost. I want you to claim me all over again, and then I want to return the favor. I want to forget there was ever a time I didn’t belong to you.”

With that, Eddie tugged Steve’s pants and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving him completely bare under Eddie's ravenous gaze. Eddie licked his lips like a starving man eyeing his favorite meal. The intensity in Eddie's eyes sent a wave of heat through Steve, his body already trembling with anticipation.

“You know, the first time I saw you naked, my first thought was how fucking unfair it was," Eddie murmured, almost sounding offended even as his gaze raked over Steve's body. "How can everything about you be so goddamn pretty… even your dick?”

His voice was thick with admiration, his long, dexterous fingers wrapping around Steve’s hard length in exactly the way Steve loved. Steve opened his mouth to respond, but the words got lost in his throat as Eddie, wasting no time, sank his mouth down over Steve’s cock. The wet heat, the sensation of Eddie's lips and tongue, overwhelmed him, making his knees nearly buckle.

In the five years they'd been together, they had learned each other inside and out, knew exactly how to make the other come in mere minutes, how to touch and kiss and lick and fuck until the other was a trembling mess. So it didn’t surprise Steve that Eddie still knew every single thing that drove him mad with lust. Eddie’s clever tongue focused on the head of his cock, teasing the slit, swirling around it, before suddenly sinking down in one smooth move until his nose was buried in Steve’s pubic hair.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed, doubling over as his hands gripped Eddie’s curls tightly, anchoring himself in place. He felt Eddie smirk around him, clearly proud of the reaction he’d provoked. But Steve couldn’t even begin to care, not when Eddie started moving up and down his length, his tongue gliding along the underside of his cock, tracing the vein, humming with pleasure every time he hit the back of Eddie’s throat. It was the sweetest kind of torture, Eddie’s mouth working him over with practiced ease while he gazed up at Steve with those dark, adoring eyes. Like blowing Steve was a privilege, like Steve himself was a wonder Eddie had been lucky enough to find.

It wasn’t like Steve had lived like a monk all these years. If anything, his stamina had only improved with age and experience. But somehow, with Eddie worshiping him on his knees, he felt like he was seconds away from the edge, like he could come just from the way Eddie looked at him.

“Baby, if you want a home run tonight, you gotta stop,” he managed to gasp out, his voice breathless as if he’d just finished a marathon — though, knowing from experience, marathon sex with Eddie could be even more exhausting than an actual marathon.

Eddie reluctantly pulled off, taking a moment to catch his breath before playfully biting Steve’s hipbone. “Remember when we could go several rounds in one night?” He sighed with mock wistfulness, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

“Actually, Robin and I decided to repress the entire era when Reagan was president,” Steve replied with a grin. Then he carefully pulled Eddie back up to his feet, mindful of his knees that had seen better days. No one warned them that hitting their mid-thirties would feel like this. His respect for Hopper, Joyce, and even Murray had grown exponentially since getting closer and closer to the age they were when they first battled monsters from the Upside Down. Some days, he didn’t even feel like running to catch the bus.

They shared a kiss that started almost chaste — if not for the lingering taste of Steve on Eddie’s tongue. “Catcher or pitcher?” he asked, a playful edge to his voice.

“Huh?” Eddie looked dazed from the kiss, swaying forward like he was chasing Steve’s lips. The sight was impossibly endearing.

Steve chuckled softly. “You wanna catch or pitch? You know, for our home run.”

To Steve's surprise, Eddie let out a pained groan at the question. “I hope you know I blame you and only you for the fact that I even get that fucking metaphor, let alone finding it as hot as I do.”

Smirking, Steve reached out to cup the bulge in Eddie's pants. "Hmmm. I don’t know, this doesn’t feel like you’re all that mad about it, Munson." He squeezed, delighting in the way Eddie twitched beneath his hand. "And you still haven’t answered me. You wanna spread me out on my bed and make me take this," he said, stroking Eddie through his jeans, "inch by inch, feel me squeeze tight and hot around you?” Eddie’s hips jerked into Steve’s touch, a needy whimper escaping his lips at the image Steve was painting with his words.

“Or do you want me to undress you slowly," Steve continued, "lay you down, lick and finger you open until you’re begging for me? Let me give you everything you want, take you apart and put you back together? Hold you down and fuck you so good you forget everyone else who ever touched you but me?”

Steve had never been one for sharing, and while he didn’t hold it against Eddie that there had been others while they were apart — he had been with other people too, after all — a darker, more primal part of him wanted to remind Eddie exactly who he belonged to.

His hand never stopped teasing, and by now Eddie was clutching Steve's forearms tightly, his hips undulating, seeking more friction, more pleasure. "This. That. What you just said. Please, Stevie. Want you to."

“Want me to what?” Steve demanded, his voice low, rough with need. He wanted Eddie to say it. He needed Eddie to say it.

“Want you to show me I’m yours,” Eddie breathed, eyes dark with desire.

And who was Steve to deny them what they both so obviously wanted?

He kept his promise and undressed Eddie slowly, his hands trembling with the need to explore every inch of the beloved body beneath them once more. He found new tattoos, but also a few more scars that hadn't been there the last time they were like this. Steve made a mental note to ask Eddie about them later. Right now, he simply pressed soft kisses against each new mark he discovered, silently vowing to love them as much as he loved every other part of Eddie.

Once they were both naked, Steve murmured for Eddie to get onto the bed on all fours. Eddie obeyed without hesitation — a miracle in itself, showing just how much he needed this, needed him. Steve took a moment to gather the lube and condoms from the bedside drawer. He took a moment to mourn the fact that they had to use a condom, wishing he could feel Eddie bare, skin to skin, but he knew it was the right thing to do. At least until they could talk about being exclusive again and get tested.

When he turned back toward the bed, Steve's breath hitched at the sight before him. Miles of pale skin stretched out before him, adorned with black ink and pink scars, old and fresh alike — testaments to the battles Eddie had fought and survived. His body was leaner, his shoulders broader, his arms more defined, but he still retained that wiry frame that always drove Steve wild. Eddie's cock hung full and heavy between his spread legs, his back arched in a way that put his ass on perfect display, open and inviting, ready for Steve to take.

"You should take a picture, might last you longer," Eddie teased, glancing over his shoulder with a wicked grin.

Steve chuckled, momentarily caught off guard by the idea. He still had a few grainy, clandestine photos of Eddie from back in the day, capturing their moments in bed, raw and unguarded. The thought was tempting, and he mentally filed it away for later. For now, he put the lube and condoms within reach and settled in behind Eddie, his hands moving instantly to the soft flesh of Eddie’s ass, stroking and squeezing, relishing the heat and softness under his palms.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, unable to keep the awe from his voice, feeling Eddie shiver beneath his touch.

Determined to show Eddie exactly how much he meant every word, Steve leaned in, diving between those enticing cheeks without hesitation. His tongue, wet and insistent, teased at Eddie's rim, making a point to keep it as sloppy as possible. He knew how much Eddie loved the filthy, wet sounds and the sensation of spit trickling down to his balls.

Eddie’s hoarse moans, punctuated by his breathless mix of praise and pleading, were like music to Steve’s ears. One of his favorite things about sex with Eddie was how unapologetically loud and expressive he was — just as passionate in bed as he was about everything else in life. For Steve, his partner's pleasure had always been paramount, and knowing he could make Eddie feel this way filled him with a deep, satisfying pride.

It had been a revelation for Steve when he realized that his talents with his mouth could be applied to a man just as effectively as with all the girls he'd been with during his days as King Steve. Back then, his oral skills were the stuff of legend, and when he figured out how to use them on Eddie, they’d both reached new heights of sexual fulfillment.

“Oh my god,” Eddie gasped, voice raw and strained as he pressed the words out between desperate moans. “Your fucking mouth.”

Steve chuckled against him, tongue still buried inside, amused by the way Eddie unknowingly mirrored his own thoughts. He knew he could make Eddie come like this, with just his mouth — he’d done it many times before — but tonight, they had something different in mind. Reluctantly, he pulled back, biting playfully at the plush curve of Eddie's right cheek before grabbing the lube from the pillow beside Eddie’s head.

His first finger slipped inside easily; Eddie was already stretched by his tongue, his body pliant and eager. Steve could feel the heat and tightness around his finger, and as much as he wanted to draw this out, to tease Eddie until he was a trembling mess, his own need was overwhelming. He wanted to be as close to Eddie as humanly possible, to feel every inch of him, to erase every bit of distance that had ever been between them.

One finger was soon joined by another, Eddie’s body yielding easily, drawing Steve in. “Taking it so well, baby. So eager for me to fuck you, huh?”

“Ye-yes, fuck, please, don’t need another finger, just you, I—” Another moan, high and needy, slipped from Eddie’s lips. “I can take it, you know I can,” he babbled, hips pushing back against Steve’s hand, fucking himself on his long fingers. Eddie was right; Steve knew he could sink in just like this. They’d always used their fingers to drive each other wild, not because they needed the stretching. When they were too impatient or time was scarce, they’d often skip the foreplay altogether.

Steve had wanted to take his time, to make up for all the days and nights they’d missed, but he realized there was too much pent-up desire, too much yearning for each other. The need to be close was overwhelming in its intensity. They could take their time later, once the burning urgency had softened into something slower and more languid.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” Steve promised, stroking Eddie’s trembling back like he was soothing a skittish animal. He could feel the tension in Eddie’s body, taut and electric. “Eddie, baby, can you turn around for me?” His hands continued their gentle path, trying to calm whatever had Eddie on edge.

Eddie turned slowly, reluctantly, until he was sitting in front of Steve again. He was still hard, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, and his dark eyes were wide and uncertain. His bottom lip, red and swollen from his own teeth, trembled as he avoided Steve’s gaze.

“What’s going on? You seem nervous. Do you want to stop?” Steve asked, his voice filled with concern. Eddie had been so eager, so hungry for this — but what if he felt pressured, like he had to do it just to keep Steve?

Eddie shook his head but kept his eyes downcast, something clearly weighing on his mind. Steve reached out, lacing their fingers together, and brought Eddie’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “You can talk to me. Whatever it is, it’s okay. Remember what you said? Whatever happens next, I’m all in. We can stop right now; I’ll make us some cocoa or tea, and we can cuddle or talk, whatever you need. And I’ll still want you just as much.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say because Eddie squeezed his hand, thumb brushing over Steve’s knuckles as he finally spoke. “I don’t want to stop. I want this… I want you… so much. That’s the problem.” At Steve’s confused hum, Eddie continued. “I’m scared, Stevie. It’s stupid, I know, but… God, I’m so fucking scared.”

“Scared? Of what? Of me?” Steve asked, his heart tightening in his chest.

Eddie finally looked up, and Steve’s heart broke at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “Of how much I want you. How much I need you. It’s terrifying. I feel out of control, like I’ll break apart if you stop touching me.”

Steve’s heart clenched at Eddie’s admission, feeling the weight of every word settle between them. Eddie’s eyes, so wide and vulnerable, flicked up to meet his, and Steve saw the fear there — not of him, but of the intensity of what he was feeling. It was like a tidal wave, something too big to contain or control. He tightened his grip on Eddie’s hand, drawing him closer, feeling the heat and tremor of his body.

"Hey," he murmured softly, "it's okay. You're safe here. I know it feels like too much right now," Steve continued, voice low and soothing, "but it doesn’t have to be. We don’t have to rush this. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for."

“I am ready,” Eddie insisted, the desperation in his voice making Steve's heart twist. "But it feels like — like if I let go, I’ll lose myself. Or worse, you. And I can't… I can't lose you again. Not when I just got you back."

Steve shifted closer, cupping Eddie's face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "You’re not going to lose me," he promised, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering. "I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, his eyes searching Steve's, and Steve leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips. He kept it soft, reassuring. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against Eddie’s, his hands still cradling Eddie’s face. “We’ll go as slow as you need. We have all the time in the world now. And if you need to stop, we’ll stop. But if you want me to keep going, I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

For a moment, Eddie just breathed, like he was soaking in Steve’s words, his promises. Then, he nodded, a small, tentative smile breaking through the anxiety in his eyes. "I don’t want to stop," he whispered, voice steadier now. "I just… needed to know you’re with me. That you feel it too."

“I do,” Steve replied, brushing a kiss to Eddie’s brow. “Believe me, Eddie, I never felt like this about anyone but you.”

Eddie swallowed, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Okay,” he breathed. “Then… don’t stop. Just… hold me while you do. Please.”

Steve's smile was gentle. "Always," he whispered, pulling Eddie closer, as if holding him while making love could ever be anything less than a joy.

The next few minutes felt like a dream. Steve never stopped touching Eddie, and Eddie never stopped touching him, their hands and bodies in constant, tender contact. Eddie rolled the condom over Steve’s length, slicking it with lube, while Steve kept caressing Eddie’s thighs, kneeling between his spread legs.

And then, finally, with Eddie on his back and Steve poised above him, he sank slowly into the familiar heat of Eddie’s body after years apart. Every movement was slow, deliberate, filled with care and affection. Their gazes were locked, fingers intertwined beside Eddie’s head, and it felt as if time had ceased to exist. Steve leaned down to capture Eddie’s lips in a tender kiss, hips flush against Eddie's, and they kissed again and again, the earlier urgency softened into something gentler, more profound.

When Steve began to move, his hips rolled languidly, their mouths never more than a breath apart. Eddie’s grip on his hands was firm, as if Steve were the only thing anchoring him to the present, holding him together with touch alone. Maybe he was. Steve certainly felt the same way about Eddie.

Their bodies fell into a rhythm that only they knew. They were pressed together from head to toe, chests flush, Eddie’s hard cock trapped beneath Steve’s stomach, Eddie’s legs wrapped tightly around Steve’s waist. It felt like they were caught in the eternal dance of the moon and the sea, Steve’s hips mimicking the ebb and flow of the tides, pushing into Eddie again and again. Beneath him, Eddie met every thrust with his own, welcoming Steve home with a smile Steve could feel on his lips.

“I love you,” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips, aware of how insane it might sound to anyone else, but knowing the truth of it deep in his heart. The last ten years had melted away the moment their eyes met again. After learning what had caused Eddie to walk away all those years ago, and knowing Eddie had missed him just as much as he’d missed Eddie, those old feelings that had never quite disappeared resurfaced, filling his heart until they overflowed from his lips, just like they always had.

Eddie’s eyes went wide, his grip tightening almost painfully. “Steve—”

“You don’t have to say it back, but I needed you to know. I never stopped loving you, Eddie. I don’t think I ever will.”

“Thank God, because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you, too.”

Steve captured Eddie’s mouth in another passionate kiss, pouring all his love and devotion into it. He knew that this moment would forever be one of the best of his life.

Confessing their love seemed to ignite the earlier fire between them, bringing a fresh urgency to their lovemaking. Suddenly, all Steve wanted was to feel Eddie come because of him, to see him unravel from the pleasure he gave him. His hips picked up speed as he sought the perfect angle to hit Eddie’s prostate with every thrust, each raspy ah, ah, ah from Eddie like a siren’s call he followed, focused entirely on Eddie's pleasure.

Not to be outdone, Eddie began whispering in his ear, telling him how well he was fucking him, how perfect Steve’s cock felt, how Steve was made for him, making him feel like no one else ever had. Eddie’s voice, breathless and raw, promised he couldn’t wait for Steve to fuck him bare again, his cum dripping from his used hole, wanting Steve to push it back in, to mark him as his, and his alone.

Even with the way both of them focused on chasing heights of pleasure, Steve’s orgasm still snuck up on him, the only warning the tight coil in his belly that suddenly twisted painfully. “Fuck, baby, you’re making me come.”

“I’m close, so close, I just—I need—” Eddie’s voice was husky, desperate, and Steve knew exactly what he needed.

It was a tight fit to get his hand between them—neither of them willing to have any space separating them—but Steve managed, wrapping his fingers around Eddie’s cock. It was slick with precum and sweat, easing his strokes.

The keening moans falling from Eddie’s lips told Steve just how close he was, so he allowed himself to chase his own orgasm, thrusting into Eddie with short, forceful movements while stroking him just the way he knew Eddie liked it.

And when he felt Eddie clench around him, cum spilling between them and down his fingers, Steve finally let go. He came with a low, guttural fuck, his hips stuttering, his body tightening as he pressed in as deep as he could, filling the condom.

His arms gave out beneath him like a puppet with its strings cut, and he half-sank, half-fell onto Eddie, who let out a soft oof at the weight on top of him.

“Too heavy?” Steve asked, hoping for Eddie to say no so he could stay just like this.

“No,” Eddie replied with a soft smile, probably reading his mind, “stay. Please.”

“For as long as you want me to.”

He was rewarded with a kiss that felt like both a confession and a promise. “How does forever sound?”

“Perfect,” Steve whispered. “Forever sounds perfect.”

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter eleven

chapter eleven: hidden underneath

chapter summary: Are Yunho and Mingi finally starting to get along? It sure seems like it, especially after their breakfast conversation…. or not?

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 2.1k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

author's note: heeey, sorry today's chapter is shorter and not that packed, but i'm taking my driver's license test in 2 days and i'm super stressed and studying A LOT!! after i'm done, there will definitely be more chapters coming. ps. i'm currently watching spy x family, that's why i chose it hehehe

Yunho shut the door to his room, pressing his back against it as he exhaled sharply. His heart was still racing, his mind running in circles around everything that had just happened.

Mingi wanted to be friends. Not just tolerate each other, not just coexist—but actually be friends.

The idea sent a strange rush of warmth through Yunho’s chest, but it also left him reeling. It didn’t make sense. One second, Mingi was teasing him, pushing him into uncomfortable situations, acting like Yunho was some nuisance he had to put up with—and now he wanted to get along?

Yunho groaned, running a hand down his face as he stepped further into the room. The way Mingi had looked at him—so intense, so unreadable—it was burned into his mind. And that comment… You’re actually pretty cute. I like your kind. Yunho shuddered at the memory, unsure if it made him embarrassed or if some part of him liked the way it sounded coming from Mingi’s mouth.

Nope. Not thinking about that. He shook his head, forcing himself to push the thought away. He needed clarity. He needed someone to help him make sense of all this. And he knew exactly who to turn to.

Grabbing his phone off his desk, Yunho quickly pulled up his messages and typed out a text to Jisung.

Yunho: Hey, I have something I need to talk to you about. You got time tomorrow?

The response came quicker than expected.

Jisung: Ohhh interesting. I’m hanging out with two of my friends since it’s Friday tomorrow, but you can totally join us. They give great advice, so they’ll add a lot to the convo.

Yunho hesitated for a moment, a small flicker of anxiety creeping in. He hadn’t expected Jisung to invite other people. What if they judged him? What if they didn’t understand? But before his nerves could fully settle in, excitement took over. Maybe this was good. Maybe hearing different perspectives would help him figure things out.

He took a deep breath and started typing.

Yunho: Amazing. When can I arrive?

Yunho woke up the next morning to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through his blinds. Blinking groggily, he stretched his arms over his head, his body still heavy with sleep. It took him a second to remember that it was Friday—one of his lighter days. Just two classes before he was free for the weekend.

He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He didn’t bother putting much thought into his outfit, grabbing a pair of jeans, a black shirt, and his hoodie. As he pulled the hoodie over his head, his gaze landed on something small and familiar resting on his desk—his rosary.

For a long moment, he just stared at it. He hadn’t been to church once since arriving at college. The realization made his stomach twist with guilt. His parents would be furious if they knew. They would probably disown him, or at least have a long, soul-crushing conversation about his ‘drifting faith.’ The thought alone made his chest feel tight.

With a sigh, he reached for the rosary, letting the beads slip through his fingers. He used to wear it every day back home, a constant reminder of who he was supposed to be. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to step into a church just yet, but he could at least wear it. That had to count for something, right? Maybe he’d even look up some services online and go this Sunday. That would make his parents happy… if they ever found out.

After a brief hesitation, he slipped the rosary over his head, tucking it beneath his shirt. He didn’t want people to stare or ask questions. Keeping it hidden was easier.

Shaking off the unease curling in his stomach, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the bathroom. A quick splash of cold water helped wake him up, and he brushed his teeth, letting the mundane routine ground him. When he was done, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchen.

Yunho stepped into the kitchen and immediately froze.

Oh. Right.

He totally forgot about this part.

Mingi was already there, leaning against the counter with a mug in one hand, his phone in the other. White wired earbuds trailed from his ears, one tucked loosely beneath his silver hoop earring. He wore a black and white striped sweater—slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows—and ripped black jeans that hung low on his hips. Rings adorned his fingers, a few silver necklaces layered around his neck, one of them catching the dim kitchen light as he turned.

Noticing Yunho, Mingi pulled one earbud out and paused whatever he was watching. “Good morning, roomie,” he greeted casually, his voice still a little rough from sleep.

Yunho’s heart did something weird in his chest.

It was just the way Mingi said it—so easy, like they’d been doing this for years. Yunho swallowed, nodding stiffly. “G-Good morning.” He quickly turned toward the fridge, opening it even though he had no idea what he was looking for.

His mind raced back to their agreement from yesterday. Okay. He could do this.

They were supposed to be nice to each other now. Friends. Or, well, something like that. And really, Yunho didn’t want any bad blood between them. If Mingi could act normal, so could he.

Gathering every ounce of courage he had, Yunho turned back, still gripping the fridge door. “Uh—” he hesitated. Then, before he could chicken out, he asked, “What are you watching?”

Mingi paused, blinking. “Huh? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Yunho hesitated, his grip tightening on the fridge door. “I, uh—” He cleared his throat. “I asked what you were watching.”

For a second, Mingi just stared, unreadable. Yunho braced himself for some sarcastic or dismissive remark. But then—

Something shifted.

Mingi’s whole expression changed in an instant. The usual sharp, dominant aura softened, replaced by something Yunho had never seen before. His eyes lit up, his mouth tugged into an excited grin, and suddenly, he was a completely different person.

“Oh man, okay, so—it’s Spy x Family! Have you heard of it? It’s so good, bro. Like, the animation? Top tier. The humor? Amazing. And the characters? Anya is literally the cutest kid ever, I swear. And Loid? The coolest fake dad to ever exist. Yor? Absolute queen. I just finished an episode, and I swear, every time Anya does something dumb, I lose it. Like—”

Mingi kept going. And going.

Yunho just stood there, completely frozen, watching in stunned silence as Mingi excitedly rambled about the anime. He was practically bouncing on his feet, hands moving as he gestured wildly to emphasize his points. His usual laid-back, intimidating aura? Completely gone. Instead, he was a total softie, eyes gleaming with pure enthusiasm.

It was… cute.

Wait. What?

No. No, that wasn’t the point here. Yunho shook himself out of his trance as Mingi finally paused to take a breath.

“You watch anime?” he asked, still processing.

Mingi grinned, nodding. “Yeah, when I have time for it.”

Yunho felt his face warm up. “I’ve heard Spy x Family is really good. Not just the story line, but the animation too, as you said. I wanted to check it out, but ever since college started, I haven’t had time.”

Mingi gasped dramatically. “YOU’RE AN ANIME FAN?!”

Yunho scratched the back of his neck. “Y-Yeah. Probably not as big as you, but…” He hesitated for a moment, then admitted, “I actually speak Japanese pretty fluently. Or, well, at least I think so. I haven’t used it in a few months.”

Mingi’s jaw dropped. “Bro, what?! You’re like my hero.”

“What?” Yunho blinked, caught off guard.

“I’ve tried learning Japanese, but I suck at studying,” Mingi groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I think my pronunciation is pretty decent, though! Watching anime helps, but man, it’s hard. You gotta tutor me or something.”

Yunho turned even redder. “N-No, I’m not that great…”

Yunho kept his head down and focused on preparing his breakfast, still feeling flustered from their conversation. But just as he took a bite, Mingi’s voice cut through the silence again.

“Yo, Yunho.”

Yunho glanced up mid-chew. “Hm?”

“Come closer.”

His chewing slowed. “…Why?”

Mingi sighed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, don’t make me come to you myself. Come on, I don’t bite—unless you want me to.”

Yunho nearly choked.

What the hell did that mean?!

Mingi raised an eyebrow expectantly, and despite every alarm blaring in his head, Yunho hesitantly stepped forward. Before he could process what was happening, Mingi suddenly reached out, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him closer.

Yunho froze.

Brain: shut down.

Body: completely rigid.

Soul: leaving his body.

WHAT IS HAPPENING. OH MY GOD. IS HE GONNA BEAT ME UP???

Mingi’s grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm, and Yunho barely had time to panic before he felt a light tug at his chest. His eyes darted downward just as Mingi pulled his rosary out from under his shirt, letting the small silver cross dangle between them.

“I knew I wasn’t making it up,” Mingi said, examining it closely. “You were hiding something under your shirt.” He smirked slightly. “It’s your rosary.”

Yunho swallowed hard. “Y-Yeah. I, uh… I’ll take it off. I left it on by mistake.”

At that, Mingi’s expression shifted into something unreadable. His smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. “Why?”

Yunho blinked. “Huh?”

“Why take it off?” Mingi frowned slightly, letting the cross rest against Yunho’s chest again. “It looks pretty. And super cool, actually.” Then, tilting his head, he added, “And I think you’re kinda lying to me.”

Yunho stiffened. “W-What?”

“Nobody leaves something like this on by mistake.”

Yunho bit his lip, looking away. “…I just don’t want anyone making fun of me for having a religion.”

Mingi scoffed. “Making fun of you?” He shook his head. “Trust me, nobody will. People will just think it’s a jewelry accessory, not an actual rosary.”

Yunho stayed silent, still gripping the hem of his hoodie.

Mingi studied him for a moment before sighing. “But, y’know…” He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “If you have to hide your religion from people, doesn’t that kinda say something about what kind of believer you are?”

Yunho’s breath hitched. His fingers curled slightly, pressing into the fabric of his hoodie.

Mingi tilted his head. “Like, if it’s something you really care about, shouldn’t you wear it proudly?” His voice wasn’t mocking, just… genuinely curious.

Yunho swallowed, unsure how to answer.

Mingi sighed, then suddenly stood up, stretching. “And even if someone does have a problem with it…” He rolled his shoulders before shooting Yunho a confident grin. “Just call me up, and I’ll deal with them.”

Yunho’s head snapped up. “Huh? Wha—”

“You have my number, right?” Mingi added, winking before casually slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out of the dorm.

Yunho just stood there.

Processing.

His face burned. His heart was racing.

What… just happened? What was that?

Yunho had no idea what to focus on first—Mingi getting that close to him first thing in the morning? Ugh. But shouldn’t he also feel at least a little offended? What did Mingi even know about religion or what a rosary meant?

But….Mingi had a point.

Yunho hated to admit it, but he did.

If he truly believed in God, if his faith was something he held close to his heart, then why was he so afraid to show it? Why did he tuck his rosary away like a secret—like something shameful?

His parents would say it’s because the world was cruel. That people would ridicule him, tempt him, try to lead him astray. That he had to stay vigilant and protect his faith, not flaunt it.

But was he really protecting it… or was he just afraid?

Yunho exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. Ugh. No. Stop thinking about it. This wasn’t the time to spiral over religion. He had class. He had things to do.

…And Mingi.

You have my number, right?

Yunho blinked.

Wait. No. He didn’t have Mingi’s number.

Why did Mingi assume he did?

Maybe Mingi thought he gave it to him at some point? Or maybe they were already in some group chat for the dorm floor, and Yunho just forgot to save his contact?

Still. The way he said it so casually, like Yunho should’ve already had it, like it was natural for them to text—

Yunho pressed his palms into his cheeks. His face was burning. God, I need to stop thinking about this guy.

With that, he grabbed his bag and left for class, determined to focus on anything other than his roommate.

Oh, and the rosary, stayed, where it was—hanging freely over his shirt, out in the open.

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[renatogpadilla]

The Morning After.

Note to self, thought Jinx.

The next time this happened (and Jinx really hoped it did) the welding goggles stay ON.

As amazing as it had been, she had risked going permanently blind several times last night just by virtue of getting so lost in the moment she almost forgot just who she was sharing it with...

Lux stirred next to her, and she realized her mouth hurt from smiling. She looked up at the newly made scorch mark in her roof above the bed. Yup. Not fixing that anytime soon!

She had needed that way more than she was willing to admit... And it had happened! It wasn't a hallucination or a trick of the light (though she was now intimately familiar with that idiom). It had been real! She truly realized how lucky she'd been Lux had taken the first step and been selfish. She herself wouldn't have had the guts. Up until that moment, Jinx had only seen her (or at least attempted to only see her) as a friend. But now here she was, laying next to her, sun hitting her head, bright as the morning and so, so sweet...

Like one of Ellie's muffins!

Muffin~

...

Muffin.....

......

Cupcake.

She sat up in horror as the realization hit her. High class and sheltered? Check. Fancy accent? Check. In charge of a bunch of enforcers? Also check... Adorable and sappy nickname? Had her completely whipped...?

Oh, gods, it happened. Jinx noticed in the one terrible moment of that otherwise beautiful and perfect morning. She had turned into Vi.

For a brief moment, she genuinely reconsidered ever going home at all... But then Lux stirred again, and the moment was gone.

Lux had been awake for a while. Just replaying the night before in her head. The way she'd been able to relinquish control without fearing for her life for once had been a magical experience.

And she kept replaying the talk that led up to it... Over and over... And eventually, she replayed it so much that she picked up on some things that made her shrink in the sheets... Just a few things here and there that Jinx had said, now that she wasn't insurmountably horny and could really take last night in. A few lines kept creeping back into her mind...

"I'm not in love with you..."

"I don't think it's about what I want tonight..."

"When I'm ready, I'll go back..."

Man. Morning-after clarity was a bitch.

She knew she had wanted last night to happen... And in the moment, it had been spectacular! But now that she realized what that implied...

She wanted to say something... And now she was selfish enough to get it off her chest.

"Jinx?" She said, drowsily. She turned to the mess of blue hair laying next to her, and grabbed her hand.

"Hey, beautiful." Jinx managed, the morning still not clinging to her throat. "You sleep tight?"

"I did. It was wonderful." She said, wrapping her arms around her Witch... Her Witch...

Her Witch?

"Listen. I don't think I've ever had a more wonderful night. And honestly, I'd be completely down to do it again, but..."

"But...?" Jinx felt a twang of pain in her chest she hadn't felt before. Well, maybe once, but not for Lux. She was glad to feel it for her almost as much as it scared her... "Did... Did you not...?"

"I loved it! Don't get me wrong! The whole thing was amazing and I'm not going to lie, letting go felt good... I didn't have to be afraid for you. And you didn't have to be afraid for me... And I adore that."

"But there's still something else...?" Her heart started to burn a little. "Did I do something wrong? Did I cross some line? If I did something-"

Lux stopped her, putting a couple of fingers to her lips. "I'm going to say my piece, and you are going to wait until I'm done, okay? Please?"

"Okay. Yes, of course." Jinx was terrified... Maybe using her powers last night had been a bad idea...? "What's wrong, Flashlight?"

"It's about some things you said before." She began... And it wasn't a nice feeling, being this critical after losing themselves in each other the way they had last night, but she got it out. "I was barely functioning properly last night, so I focused on the things I wanted to hear. But I realize now that I don't like all that I heard. I keep hearing myself saying I think I might be in love with you, and then I hear your voice saying you know you don't see me that way... And I understand, in a way. I wasn't innocent enough to believe you wanted to leave your previous love for me, and I wouldn't have asked it... But there IS a part of me, now that the... excitement... has died down a bit... well..." Be honest. Get it out. "A part of me feels used. And don't get me wrong, I love you. But that's not something I ever want to feel again. And how you said last night wasn't about what you wanted... that got me too. I had every intention of not being more than friends because I didn't want to get in the way of something. Because I respected your desicion, no matter how much I wanted you. But now..."

She got quiet for a moment. Just enough for her to realize how she'd made her feel. 'Really living up to your name, Jinx.' She thought, as she kicked herself in her head. She'd said it herself that she wouldn't hurt Lux on a fling! And now look at her... She felt like shit.

"I won't lie and tell you this isn't something I want." She continued. "But I don't want to be a stand-in for someone else. I don't deserve that. So whatever we are, whatever you want us to be... I want you to be sure that you're not doing it to heal. Healing's important. For both of us. But if you want this to continue like this, I want you to know that you love me for me. If not, then I know where I stand."

Lux felt the tears in her hand before she saw them. That's an expression she never wanted to see in Jinx's face again. Her features contorted into pure, undistilled guilt, eyes weeping like waterfalls.

"I'm sorry..." She cried. And Jinx meant it with every ounce of her soul. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! Never! I didn't think that... I didn't think!" She kissed her hand and held it like a treasure. "I'm such a bitch! I'm so sorry Lux!"

And Lux shed a tear of her own. This hurt like hell... She felt Jinx's hand on her shoulder as she came closer and embraced her, still crying inconsolably.

It was one thing when someone was already hurt, like Jinx, but when you're the one that hurts them... Hurts someone you love... Jinx couldn't find the words. 'I'm sorry' wasn't enough. She didn't think it would ever be enough...

She didn't know how long she wept in her arms, but Lux didn't stop her. Didn't judge. Well, maybe she judged a little, but if she did, she had every right to.

"I used you..." She broke. And her voice was so pained and hurt that Lux thought she might actually understand the weight of those words. "I don't think I knew I was doing it, but that's no excuse. I used you and it hurt you and I will never be able to find the words to make it up to you... But if I can say one thing and have it stick, I want it to be this: I do love you. Not as a stand-in for Ekko. Not as a friend. Not as some... healing mechanism! I love you because I love Luxanna Crownguard. And I can't... I might have some things to figure out, but that should never be an excuse to hurt you, I'm so sorry!"

Lux was genuinely happy to hear that... but it wasn't an answer to her question.

"Thank you, Firework..." She started and kissed her cheek. "I appreciate that you see it. Hearing that makes my heart fly..." How the hell to say this...?

Jinx beat her to the punch.

"Do you want this to continue...?" She said it between sniffles. She was wrecked. "Because I do. And if you choose to let it, I promise to be better! Whatever you want, I promise! But if you don't, I understand. And I'm glad for the night you gave me. 'Sorry' will never be enough..."

Lux... actually had to think about it.

"You still love Ekko, don't you?"

Jinx was hurting bad, but she knew the answer to that. She sniffled again. "Yes... That's not fair to you, but yes."

"And you hope to see him again, and pick that back up?"

"I wanted to... I think it wouldn't be right if I didn't... But the way this happened wasn't right, so now..." Her mind was racing, and stumbling, a mile a minute.

"You're worried it wouldn't be fair to him?"

"Or to you! It wouldn't be fair for anyone! I've already let him think I'm dead this long! And I don't want to leave you like I just... like I just needed a band-aid over a wound!"

They were both in shambles... Lux spoke first.

"You love us both. I appreciate that... I'm blessed to have a space in your heart, and you should know you hold one in mine as well." She loved this witch so much... "I love you. I know I do. I won't deny it anymore, to you or to myself..."

"I won't either..."

Lux had an idea. And it wasn't a pretty one, but she thought it was fair.

"So one day you'll go home and set things right with your Boy Saviour." She said, and just a little bit of that steel came out in her voice. Be selfish. "But until that day, until the second you return and the moment you're not in Demacia anymore, I want you to promise me something."

Jinx finally got off her friend's bosom and sat up. Wiped away her tears and tried to look as determined as she could.

"What do you need from me? Whatever it is. Anything."

Lux steeled herself. She had never asked anything this huge before, but she needed to hear it. "Do you want us? Truly?"

Jinx didn't have to think about that. "Yes! I love you. I want this. I want this so much and I'm sorry that I made you think I didn't!"

Lux had her answer then.

"Then promise me this: From this moment until the second you go home, you are MINE, Jinx of Zaun. You are My Firework. My Witch. And once you go home, you will tell those you love about the girl that helped you love again. And Ekko will know what we were. Because he will deserve to know it too. And if you find that you love him and decide to stay, you will let me know, so my heart can weep and move on. There will always be a part of me that loves you, Jinx. And whatever we are after, I want you to promise that this love, this joy and warmth of now, is real."

Jinx took the words in. Really took them in. Somehow, even after making her feel like that, even after using her, even after admitting she wasn't in love with her the way she was... even after all that... she'd still give her the chance. And in that moment, Jinx realized that maybe... maybe she was more into Lux than she had believed. Maybe she was in love. And if that was the case, she couldn't wait to find out.

"After all of that... you'd still have me?" She looked into her eyes and saw a light she'd never known before. "You still want...?"

"Promise me, Jinx." And if not, let my heart rest. "Because I promised I wouldn't run from you, and I swore that I wouldn't abandon you. So even if you say 'no', I won't leave your life. You mean too much to me for that. But I need to know."

Jinx held the side of her face. Some tears still clung to her eyes. "I don't deserve you."

"Maybe you don't." Lux granted. "And I think you've made me realize that there are few who do, and I thank you for that. But maybe you can earn it."

And Jinx, for once, found the words.

"I promise."

"Are you sure? I won't forgive you if you break my heart, Jinx. I will light you up until there's nothing left." She meant that. Sylas had been enough.

"I promise! And I love you. And I will earn it. On all of me, you will have my best. And I will work day and night to earn your love back."

Lux breathed a sigh of relief...

"Good thing you already started, My Witch." Lux said. And the steel in her voice was gone.

"Your Witch. Always." Jinx blinked the tears out of her eyes and simply whispered. "Can I kiss you?"

And it was now Lux, her Lux, that beat her to the punch.

[wynvyuu]

hi there!! just came across your blog; was wondering if i could have first kisses between the reader + sova and chamber?? thanks so much!

Hi there!! Thanks for the request! Happy to oblige~ click the read more below to see your requests! 𓆩♡𓆪

if you like what i do here or would like to request a commission for something more longform, please check out my kofi or fiverr!

there's an implicit sense of trust between you and sova. above all else, beyond even the valorant protocol, between all the friends you've made here, you know sova has your back, and sova knows you have his.

in moments like these, where you're tracing the curve of his jaw with your eyes in between training simulations, with sweat soaking his brow, you can't help but wonder how your situation got to this point. it seems magical how you two grew so close. he was the first to greet you when you were a new agent. he was the first to train with you when you were struggling with a fraction of your toolset. he was the first to save you when you were stranded in the middle of enemy territory, struggling with a cracked rib and a bullet hole in your leg. somehow, the two of you meld together like matching puzzle pieces, as if you knew each other once before meeting in such clandestine circumstances. it's only now, in the deep haze of post-training clarity, that you realize you don't even know that much about him.

what's his favorite color? does he prefer dogs, cats, or another domestic animal? his favorite food? what were his parents like? how did he feel about his hometown?

he restrings his bow in front of you, a tiny smile on his face, and you realize that you desperately need to know the answers to these questions. not as a friend, though. above all these questions, you need to know only one thing: what do his lips feel like?

sitting on the same ledge in the vast training space, you impulsively lurch closer. sova turns to look at you just as you do, opening his mouth to say something, but abruptly pauses when you wordlessly steal the breath from his lips with your own.

it lasts only a moment, your hand over his. it's electric, like lightning through your body, but ends too quickly—you want to keep going, you know you do, but your mind bumps into your heart quite abruptly in the very middle of the whole affair. what are you even doing?

you pull away, scrambling back as if bitten. your eyes are wide, and sova's are too, mouth parted and breathing hard. this cannot be happening, you think to yourself. why did you do that?

"ah," you stammer, mind racing. "fuck. I’m so sorry. that was stupid of me, I should have asked or something, or I shouldn't have even done it! god, you probably don't even like—"

your breath leaves your lungs as sova's hand moves to your cheek, and his lips meet yours for a second time, this time initiated by him. you're tense for only a moment, and then the stiffness evaporates from your body as you melt into the kiss, grabbing onto his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself beneath his passion.

moments later, he slowly parts from you, though your lips hover close together for whole seconds in the aftermath, as if held in place by some threshold of intimacy. your warm breaths mingle with his in a tender waltz. and as you open your eyes and briefly glance into his eye, your forehead pressed close, you can't stifle the question on your tongue. "you... you were okay with it?"

he laughs. you can't help but smile. "more than okay," he returns, eyes warm. "I’ve wanted to do that for too long. I just didn't want to jeopardize our friendship."

it's your turn to laugh. "I was thinking the same thing, actually."

"well," sova murmurs, lurching closer with his fingertips brushing across your cheek, "now that there are no more misunderstandings..."

another kiss comes, then another, and another, and another, all the way up until training returns to both of your minds.

somehow, it’s become a ritual for you. every time chamber is to leave for an important mission, he ensures that he finds you moments before he leaves, and he asks for a good luck kiss. his track record has gone aptly defeated for months now.

it’s only ever playful, of course. your first month in the protocol was spent deftly dodging his attempts to take you out for dinner or drinks. not that you weren’t appreciative of the offers, nor were resolute in your decision to deny his offers. at another time, maybe you would have accepted it, but this is a battlefield, not a place for romantic dinner dates and candlelit flings. you were far too in your head to think of the offers as anything more than nuisances from a man you otherwise found charming and likable, if not quite full of himself.

chamber got the hint too, of course. he’s a gentleman in all regards. when it became clear he wasn’t getting through to you, he ceased his advances almost entirely. they remain only in this strange ritual, a joking reminder of that one time chamber asked you out every other day for an entire month. it’s usually accompanied by your shaking heads and chamber chuckling while snapping his fingers as if cursing his luck. then he leaves without consequence, up and away into the sky.

tonight, though, the protocol is up in arms. there’s something in the air—danger? fear? this mission is the most dangerous in weeks. next to no intel, an unknown amount of enemies, and a dangerous, irradiated environment. the agents going on this mission are only to get in and get out with enough intel to inform further actions, but nearly every member of the protocol is intimately aware of the fact that so many things can go wrong so quickly, and these mistakes could cost lives. standing in a small, darkened alcove nearby the lockers, you’ve watched friends hug each other and bid ‘good luck’ to each other for half an hour now. it’s only on the tail-end of this grim vigil that your favorite frenchman approaches you. this time, instead of a smile, he’s stoic. you know this to be a bad sign. you’re familiar enough with chamber at this point to know that if he’s not without his signature cocky smirk, something is terribly wrong.

“a good luck kiss for the road, mon ami?”

you gaze into his eyes. it occurs to you quite suddenly that this could be the last time you ever see his stupid face if things go wrong.

what is that adage? you miss all the shots you never take? you don’t want to live a life with any regrets. even if he never does come back, at least you could come back from the situation knowing that you cherished every small moment you had with him.

“I think you need every bit of luck you can get, so…”

chamber tilts his head to the side and quirks a brow. this is a break from tradition, a second away from the strict ritual he’s set, a ritual he had hoped would keep him stable in a situation such as this. he’s cocky and ambitious, certainly, but not even he can defend against the curling tendril of doubt that encompasses the entire protocol. however, as you lean forward and press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, featherlight and terribly gentle, he suddenly feels invincible. it shows in how his stoic expression grows into the slightest hint of a smile as you pull away. as you fade from his warmth, he draws your hand into his own, and with the gentlest brush of his lips against the back of your palm, he smiles.

“I will ensure I do not squander it.”

before you can respond, he takes his leave. you’re left staring at his back, recalling how his lips felt against the back of your hand, how gently he held it, how firm stoicism melted away into tenderness as soon as he saw your face. and as he leaves, you’re left only with a terrible fluttering in your stomach.

you might actually be into him, after all these months. if there’s anything good about this mission, it’s that chamber’s time away will give you a few precious moments to sort out your newfound emotions.

[cherryrainn]

Hi, i have a request! Could you write a funny lil bit with onceler x reader with a scenario where reader and onceler (or greedler) are having dinner with reader's parents. Cue the iconic "daddy can you pass me the salt?" from reader and both reader's dad and onceler reach out for it - how will he squirm out of that????

HAHA YES THIS IS GONNA BE SO FUN. im gonna do greedler because i feel like he just fits more with the whole "daddy" thing.

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— a dinner to forget

onceler (greedler) x reader

the dining room exuded an air of warmth and elegance, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows upon the polished wooden table. you sat nervously next to onceler, your boyfriend, who exuded a certain enigmatic charm with his distinctive attire. his black top hat, coupled with his long green tailcoat, made him stand out in the refined setting. his light-blue eyes gleamed mischievously behind his sunglasses as he leaned back, exuding an air of confidence.

across from you sat your parents, eagerly engaged in conversation, their eyes filled with curiosity and excitement. it was the first time they were meeting onceler, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and a tinge of anxiety about how the evening would unfold.

the clinking of silverware against fine china echoed through the room as the dinner conversation flowed effortlessly. laughter filled the air as stories were shared, and onceler's witty banter intertwined with your parents' anecdotes.

in the midst of the lively exchange, you felt a sudden craving for an extra sprinkle of salt on your dish. without missing a beat, you turned to your father, who was seated next to you, and pointed to the salt shaker resting in the center of the table.

"daddy, can you pass me the salt?" you asked, unaware of the comedic mishap that was about to unfold.

in an almost synchronized manner, both your father and onceler reached out for the salt shaker, their hands meeting halfway. the room fell into a momentary silence as everyone realized the hilariously awkward situation that had transpired. your father's eyes widened in shock, and a stunned expression crossed his face.

onceler, usually a master of quick thinking, found himself at a loss for words. the confident facade he had carefully cultivated cracked, revealing a touch of embarrassment. his cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink as he withdrew his hand.

onceler's light freckles seemed to stand out more prominently against his blushing cheeks as he tried to gather his composure. he exchanged a sheepish glance with your father, who couldn't hide his bewildered expression. your dads eyebrows shot up as he processed the unexpected response from onceler.

sensing the need to address the confusion, onceler cleared his throat, his voice carrying a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. "o, um, i apologize if that caught you off guard. it's just a term of... something... we use between us, a playful nickname," he explained, hoping to provide some clarity.

your father's shock transformed into a mixture of surprise and awkwardness, his face turning a shade of pink. he stuttered slightly as he tried to compose himself. "oh, i... i see. i wasn't expecting that," he muttered, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and discomfort.

your mother then but in, "right, well, i suppose every couple has their own unique dynamics. we might not fully understand it, but if it works for you both..." she trailed off, a hint of resignation in her voice.

a brief pause followed, the silence punctuated by the clinking of silverware on plates. onceler shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting between you, your father, and your mother. sensing the need to break the tension, you decided to lighten the mood with a touch of humor.

"looks like we've accidentally created a 'who gets to pass the salt' dilemma," you quipped, offering a lighthearted smile.

your father chuckled nervously, a small smile forming on his face. "yup, seems that way. well, someone's going to have to make the first move," he replied, a playful glint in his eye.

onceler, taking the cue, let out a self-conscious chuckle and extended his hand towards the salt shaker, offering it to you. "after you, my dear. i wouldn't dare to come between you and your seasoning," he said with a hint of amusement, his embarrassment dissipating.

you gladly accepted the salt shaker from onceler, your hand brushing against his in the exchange. a sense of relief washed over the room as laughter filled the air once more, dispelling the awkwardness that had momentarily enveloped the dinner table.

[maul-of-shame]

[Letter from an Elrondriel shipper to new shippers:]

Okay, so I’ve been seeing a very recent trend in the Elrondriel tags, and I want to take a moment to address it. You don’t have to agree with me of course, this is coming from the perspective of someone who has been here, who has shipped this pairing through all the discourse, all the mockery, and all the outright hostility. This isn’t about gatekeeping or pushing people away—I’m always happy to see more love for this ship—but I think it’s important to acknowledge what’s actually happening.

TW: Just to be clear, this isn’t about people who are genuinely discovering Elrondriel for the first time or shifting their perspective naturally—welcome aboard, truly. This is mainly about those who were loud and proud Haladriels/Saurondriels, who spent months shitting on Elrondriel, mocking shippers, throwing around bad-faith arguments, and now suddenly want in like nothing happened. There’s a difference between genuine change and convenient revisionism, and that’s what I’m addressing here.

It’s been interesting.... to say the least, seeing certain people suddenly pop up in the Elrondriel tag like they’ve been here the whole time. And look—I’m all for people changing their minds, broadening their perspectives, realizing they might have been unfair in the past!! That’s growth, that’s learning. If someone genuinely wants to appreciate the ship now, that’s great. Welcome! Happy to have you here!!

But let’s not pretend we don’t remember. I know I fucking do.

For weeks, for months, some Elrondriel shippers were mocked, insulted, dismissed. We got told every variation of how Elrond couldn’t possibly be a fitting match for Galadriel, how we were delusional, sexist, prude, misogynistic, or whatever else was fashionable to throw at us that week. We endured the constant, bad-faith takes on how Elrond was “too soft” or how Celeborn or Sauron were the only correct choices, because apparently, people forgot that Middle-earth allows for more than one single interpretation. Some of us received harassment, anon hate, and even threats simply for enjoying the dynamic. And now—now—some of those same voices are sliding into the tag, acting like they’ve been here all along?

It’s hypocritical, and honestly, it’s insulting to the people who stood their ground when it wasn’t convenient, when it wasn’t the trendy thing to do. The fact that some of these same individuals who made our lives hell are now angling for a seat at the table, as if nothing happened, as if we’ve all suffered collective amnesia? Yeah. No.

That’s not how this works.

And listen—if someone has truly changed, if they’ve had a moment of clarity and realized they were wrong, realized that bullying was wrong and all, then sure. I can respect that. I can respect genuine self-reflection. Because fandom should be a space where people can learn and grow. If someone is sincerely shifting their mindset, I have no issue with them engaging with the ship in good faith.

But good faith is key here.

This is about sincerity, not convenience. It’s about whether someone is actually reevaluating their past behavior, or just shifting gears because they feel like they backed the wrong horse. If someone used to be hostile and now wants to be part of the community, they need to understand that trust isn’t automatic. No one’s saying they need to beg or grovel—that’s not what this is about. But acknowledgment goes a long way.

For my part, I’ve received absolutely vile shit over my takes, my fics, and just for existing in the Elrondriel tag. The insults, the bad-faith arguments, the condescension—none of it was subtle, none of it was forgettable. People went out of their way to be nasty, to mock, to dismiss, and to treat me (and others) like we were somehow lesser fans for enjoying a ship they didn’t approve of. And now? Now I’m seeing some of those same people quietly unblocking me, popping up in my notes, even interacting with my fics as if we’ve been Elrondriel besties all along. As if I’m just supposed to smile and pretend none of that ever happened.

And look, I’m not here to gatekeep fandom, and I don’t hold grudges just for the sake of it. If people genuinely had a change of heart, if they truly reexamined their behavior and realized they were unfair, then good. That’s what growth looks like. That’s what actual engagement in fandom should encourage. I don’t expect a grand gesture or a performative apology. But what I do expect is sincerity.

Because I’m not stupid, and neither is the rest of this community.

I’m not going to set the table and bring you food just because you showed up with a big-ass smile and a paper-thin apology that worked five minutes before you arrived. If you spent months treating Elrondriel shippers like trash, if you laughed along while people in your circle insulted, belittled, and harassed, then you don’t get to just waltz in now that the tides have shifted and expect everything to be fine.

Elrondriel shippers held our ground when it wasn’t easy, when it wasn’t the trendy or convenient thing to do. We dealt with the eye-rolling, the passive-aggressive comments, the outright bullying. And now that certain people are realizing that maybe—just maybe—Elrond and Galadriel actually do have an incredible dynamic, suddenly they want in? That’s not how this works.

I am nice. I am open. But I am not naive. Trust is built, not handed out like party favors. If you’re here now, cool. But please understand that some of us remember everything—and we’re not going to pretend we don’t just because it makes things more comfortable for you.

Time will tell who’s here because they want to be and who’s here because they need to be.

I know this probably sounds like I’m being a bitch, prickly, or whatever the fuck else you want to call it. And maybe I am—but it’s not coming from a place of bitterness for the sake of it. It’s coming from experience. It’s coming from days, weeks, months of watching people tear this ship down, mock those of us who love it, and act like we were reaching for something that wasn’t there. So yeah, I’m being defensive. I’d rather be on the defensive now and be pleasantly surprised later than the other way around.

Because here’s the thing: trust isn’t something you just get because you suddenly decided to join in. And I’m not saying people can’t change their minds—that would be ridiculous. Of course, people can step away from toxic perspectives and realize they were wrong. That’s part of growth. But if you were one of the people who spent months shitting on this ship and the people who loved it, you don’t get to waltz in now like none of that ever happened and expect immediate acceptance.

And to be clear—I’m only speaking for myself. I don’t speak for every Elrondriel shipper, and I’m sure there are plenty of people willing to welcome anyone who comes around, no questions asked. That’s fine. But I’ve been burned enough to know that I’d rather be cautious. I’d rather keep my guard up and let people prove through consistent action that they’re here in good faith, rather than immediately rolling out the welcome mat for someone who might just be here because the social tides have shifted.

So if you’re someone who genuinely changed your mind and wants to engage with this ship in good faith? Cool. That’s great. If you’re sincere, I have no problem with you. But if you’re only here because it’s suddenly convenient to be here, because the tables have turned and the pushback isn’t as strong anymore? That’s a different story.

And I think it’s more than fair to acknowledge that.

[Note: If I wasn’t open to people enjoying what they enjoy, I wouldn’t be hosting the Fluff Week with our server's tumblr, challenge available for every ship in LOTR. I don’t gatekeep fandom joy—I just have my eyes open. There’s a big difference between welcoming sincere engagement and ignoring blatant hypocrisy. So yeah, I believe in people growing and changing, but I also believe in actions speaking louder than words.]

[snailstrailz]

Ok so I SUCK at comics and post-sleep clarity compels me to just outline my alternative ending for OATD. I'm kinda on the fence about the ending, but whatever AU where the night entities are real or whatever.

This is kinda long so it's below the cut!

After Dark fades away Orion gets like super pissed at Light and yells at him for not stopping. Light weakly defends himself and flies off, leaving Orion alone to break down on the beach.

Cut back to present Orion and Hypatia, who's like "wow bummer ending dad" and Orion is like"I'm not finished tho!!"

The scene with the night entities realizing they fucked up plays out basically the same, but they all come together and have an argument about what to do. They all really regret just leaving dark but nobody has any ideas on how to fix things.

Finally, they listen to quiet, who suggests they go back for Orion, because maybe they can get Dark back though his memory.

The entities go find Orion, who's still hopeless. The entities all pitch in and talk about how he's helped, but it's not working. Finally dreams appeals to him by just stating the truth. "We need to get him back, or there will be nothing left for anyone."

Orion finally agrees and the whole crew goes into Orion's head this time, but searching through everything they can't find Dark.

This causes Orion to start having a panic attack and then the whole thing with the black hole happens pretty much the same with Orion deciding to face his fears. This dissipates the black hole and Dark is left behind in its wake.

He too, though is completely hopeless. He's reading the list again, crying.

Everyone tries to convince him to come back but Dark won't budge. Completely given up.

Then light shows up. He's like "dude, if you don't come back nobody will ever feel the cool, calm, dark again bro. It kinda blows when it's just me."

Dark turns around. "People have been terrified of me from day one." He turns to Orion, "you're still pretty afraid of me too. But... Maybe that's ok."

Dark gets up and declares that they're going to go fix the world and again the scene plays out pretty much the same.

Dark brings Orion home and they hug one last time. Orion goes inside and it fades to Orion on the field trip. He gathers his courage and talks to Sarah, and even though his voice cracks, he tells Ricchi Panichi to leave him alone.

In the present Orion and Hypatia are going back home. Hypatia doubts the story, thinking it's just made up. Orion knowingly smiles, before something for the poorly lit park from before catches his attention. Beyond the flickering street light, is Dark.

Hypatia is stunned and Dark is like, "long time no see!" Orion is elated to see Dark again, giving him a hug.

"I guess you're here to convince me you're not so bad now?" Hypatia says but Dark says "nah, I don't really mind." Sleep pops in alongside the others and saying, "it's past your bedtime anyway."

Boom title comes on screen credits roll yippee yay