#can i at least go to sleep and not lie awake thinking about what comes next and not wake up regretting how long i've slept

[tea-of-destiny]

very tired of the. everything. can the everything stop for a moment.

[giannaln4]

Nursed By Love

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando got sick during the first race of the triple header and you made it your mission to take care of him.  (2.7k words)

warnings: stablished relationship, fluff, sick!lando, taking a shower together (not in a sexual way), use of Y/N

a/n: not gonna lie, this turned out shorter than i expected 😭 i wanted to write more and include the entire weekend but i literally couldn't come up with more, i’m sorry if it feels a little rushed but i hope you still like it!

check out the original request here! also, this is somewhat of a prequel to my fic Sick; it has a couple of references here and there but it can be read as a standalone.

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Lando woke up before you, something that was normal in your relationship given the strict agenda he had to follow almost on a daily basis. He checked his phone to see how much time left he had before having to get up, sighing when he realised his alarm would go off soon. 

He valued his sleep, like a lot, so he figured he wouldn't let those few minutes go to waste, so he pulled the covers again up to his neck, but he was feeling a little colder than usual, so he did what he usually does: he reached for you and pulled you into him, embracing you so lovingly.

This made you wake up, slowly opening your eyes to get used to the light. “Hey,” you whispered, not completely sure if he was awake.

"Sorry, baby,” he said with a sleepy voice as his nose nudged into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay. What time is it?”

“Almost time to go, actually.”

“Okay, let’s get going then.” You said, pulling away from his embrace, making him whine as he quickly reached for your arm.

“No, let’s stay in bed a little longer,” he looked at you with his sweet eyes as he tried to convince you to go back to him.

“I don’t want us to be late again.”

“We won’t. We still have a few minutes, I promise.”

With that, you cuddled him again, this time facing him. After all, how could you possibly say no to him? “Okay, but as soon as the alarm goes off, we are getting up.”

"Yes, ma’am,” he replied happily as he buried his face on your neck again, enjoying the way you were scratching his scalp. 

Truth is, he was feeling more tired than usual. Sure, he always hated having to wake up early, but something about the way he was feeling that day wasn’t right. You felt it too; his skin against your neck was hotter than it normally was.

“You okay?”

He shook his head, hugging you tighter. “I think I’m getting sick.”

You pulled away again, the back of your hand falling on his forehead. “Baby, you have a fever.” He just hummed in response as he tried to get you to go back to your previous position. “Lando, I’m being serious. You can’t just ignore it.”

“It’s not like I can call in sick.” 

“I know, but you can’t go around all day without at least taking something. What else are you feeling?” You asked, worried eyes looking back at him.

“I’m just cold… and tired.”

“Okay, I’ll run to get you something, and you start getting ready. Sounds good?” 

He immediately shook his head and, once again, tried to cuddle you. “You promised we’d stay here until the alarm went off.”

“I know, my love, but this is the first race of the triple header, and you need to be okay. You shouldn’t do it while being sick,” you said, rubbing his check softly. “I’ll meet you at the track, yeah?”

“No, please. Let’s just cuddle for a bit longer,” he insisted. 

You sighed, debating in your mind what you should do. On one hand, you knew he wouldn’t give up, and it really couldn’t hurt to just cuddle him for a little while; he really needed it after all, but on the other, he really needed to take something so he wouldn’t feel that way for the rest of the weekend—not only that, but the two other weekends he had ahead of him.

“It’s only media day. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” you finally gave in, “but I’m serious, you have to take something.”

“I will. I will get checked later today at the track. Don’t worry,” he reassured you. 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure of that.” You went back to your cuddly position as your hand caressed the back of his head.

“I know you will.”

The minutes went by too quickly to his liking, the alarm going off just moments later. To him, it felt like 5 seconds, not 5 minutes. He groaned when you started to get up, leaving the warmth and comfort of the hotel bed to start getting ready for the day.

“We had a deal, c’mon,” you said, offering him your hand. He took it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.

“I wish we could stay here all day.” He stood in front of you and cupped your face as his thumbs caressed your cheeks.

“Aw, I know, my love, but the day will be over before you know it, and we can come back later to cuddle a little more, okay?”

He just nodded and made his way to the bathroom. You both started getting ready quickly, knowing the car that would take you to the track was probably already downstairs waiting for you.

Once you had everything you needed, he took your hand and gave it a little kiss, whispering a soft “Okay, time to go” before leaving the room.

You got to the track, and he immediately had to start doing things for the weekend that awaited him; you knew he wouldn’t get checked or take something unless you were on his hair about it, so you thought telling Jon would be a good idea.

It was hard to find a moment to go to the clinic due to their busy schedule, but you were able to finally drag him there.

You were standing close to him as he dangled his feet on the small bed, getting his throat checked by the doctor.

“It seems like you have a cough, nothing too serious,” the doctor said as she stepped away from him, writing something on the piece of paper attached to the wooden board where she was writing down his symptoms. “I will give you some medicine; take this right now, and then make sure you take it every 8 hours. Something for the fever too, in case you feel sick later, but only take one, and only if you get a fever. Also some painkillers; have you had any headaches?”

“A little bit, last night.”

“Any other thing you have been feeling?”

“I think that’s all.”

“Alright, that should be all then. Drink a lot of fluids and stay away from any alcohol or smoking. It’s not too bad, but if anything comes up, you know where to find me.”

Lando was just nodding, but you paid attention to everything she said, making a mental note of how to take care of him. 

Once they were done with all the paperwork, you left the clinic, Lando holding everything the doctor had prescribed. 

“I will hold on to those, thank you,” you said, taking all the medicine and putting it in your bag, safe and sound. You checked the time and set a reminder for 8 hours, so you didn’t forget about the cough medicine.

“Thank you, my love,” he said before kissing the top of your head.

You looked up at him with a smile, feeling sad that he got sick at the beginning of the triple header. You knew how demanding his job was and how demanding he was on himself, so it wouldn’t be a smooth recovery, so the least you could do was help him however you could.

“Lando, we have to get going. I think they are already waiting for us,” Jon said as he typed something on his phone.

The rest of the day was a little boring, which was expected considering Lando and Oscar had to spend all day talking to people or recording some videos and interviews, but you never left his side, just in case he needed something or started to feel sick again. Any time he was away from the people or cameras, you immediately ran up to him, your hand landing somewhere on his skin to make sure he didn’t have a fever.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still a little tired, and my throat is starting to bother me again. But other than that, all good.”

“Oh, is it too bad?”

“Not too bad; I guess all the talking isn’t really helping,” he chuckled, in hopes of not worrying you too much, but you couldn’t help it, and he knew that.

“I figured. You should drink some water,” you handed him the bottle you had been holding all day. He took it and drank the water that was left, thankful that you made sure to have it on you the whole time.  “Where are we going now?”

“We are staying here. We have a couple more things to do.” You nodded, holding his hand for just a moment since someone called his name from the other side of the room. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

“Okay.” You let go of his hand, watching as he joined Oscar and some other people on a big couch. They were talking about the next video they had to film, so since he was busy with his job, you figured you could step away for a moment.

You wandered around as you looked up what the best tea was to help with a sore throat. Once you settled on ginger, you looked everywhere for it, but it wasn’t as common as you hoped. You did manage to find some, finally, and you ran back to the McLaren hospitality so you could give it to him. Thankfully, when you found him, he was just scrolling on his phone, sitting away from everyone.

“Hey, I brought you some tea. This should help your sore throat.” He looked up from his phone to take the disposable cup you were holding. “It might not be as hot as it should be, but it should still do the trick,” you said nervously.

“What is it?” He asked, sniffing it.

“Ginger.”

“Ginger? Where did you find ginger tea?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you said as you sat on his lap.

“Thanks, darling,” he whispered before taking a sip, clearing his throat afterwards. 

“You should drink all of it.”

“It’s a little spicy. Do you want to try?” He said, offering you the cup.

“No, I don’t want your germs,” you joked, making him laugh. You laughed with him, enjoying the little glimpse of his dimple.

“I’m afraid you got those when we kissed.”

It wasn’t instant, but the tea definitely helped. The rest of the day went on quicker since all the major stuff got done in the morning, so before you knew it, you were already back at the hotel.

“Lando, take this.” You were taking out the bag of medicine you got from the doctor that morning, picking up the bottle that he was supposed to drink every 8 hours.

“What is it?”

“Your medicine, silly. It’s time.”

He made a disgusted face as he took it. “It tastes horrible.”

“I know, but you can’t skip it.” You stood there until he was done, an even more disgusted look adorning his face. “Are you feeling better than this morning?”

He nodded, giving you back the bottle since he knew you wanted to keep all his medicine together. “Will you take a shower with me?” He asked out of nowhere. You raised your eyebrows at his question, and he realized how it came across so immediately clarified. “Not for that reason.”

You couldn’t hold your laugh, but you quickly realised he just needed help. “Do you want me to help wash your hair?”

“Please.If you are okay with it.” 

You followed him to the bathroom, turning on the water and making sure it was warm and nice  while he discarded his clothes. He stepped in first, letting out a small moan when the warm water started to cover his body. He offered you his hand once you got naked, his strong arms wrapping around your body when you joined him.

You stayed like that for a moment, until you pulled away to gently massage his scalp. 

“This is nice,” he cooed, his eyes closing as he relaxed at the feeling.

“Mhmm, I’m glad, baby.”

“Are we going to sleep after this?” His eyes met yours as he awaited for your answer, smiling when you nodded. “Good, you promised some cuddles this morning.”

“I know, I haven’t forgotten.” It warmed your heart that he had been looking forward to it, but it broke it at the same time because, even though he always asked for it, you knew it was different this time. “Bent down a little for me,” you instructed as you reached for the shampoo and squeezed some on your hand. He did as you asked, leaving his head in perfect reach for you.

Your fingertips went back to massage his scalp gently as you made sure you covered all of it. He was humming at your touch, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the soothing sensation.

“Does your head hurt?”

“A little,” he admitted, “not too bad, though.” You looked at him with sad eyes, wishing you could take his pain away and take it yourself.

“Okay, I will give you something for that, and then we can go to bed, okay?” 

You continued helping him for the rest of the shower, and then he offered to help you the same way you did. You accepted, but it did take a little longer considering you had a lot more hair than he did, but he was happy to do it. When you were both done, you stepped back into the bathroom, handing him a towel and making him sit on the little stool in front of one of the mirrors.

With tired eyes, Lando met your gaze through the mirror, paying attention to your every move as you dried his hair. He loved the way your face scrunched when you were focused, sticking out your tongue from time to time. You were being so gentle with him that he almost felt like crying, but he held those emotions back, not wanting to worry you even more than you already were.

Once his hair was fully dried and you helped him with most of his nightly routine, you guided him to the bedroom and gave him a pill for his headache, letting him get under the covers afterwards. He dragged you with him, pulling you into a hug as soon as you got there.

“Can we do this every night?” He asked, his face burying in your neck as he usually does.

“Of course. Anything you want, my love. Are you comfortable?” You asked, a smile spreading across your face when he nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered after a moment of silence, his mind drifting off into a peaceful sleep as you massaged his muscles.

Lando fell asleep almost instantly, allowing you to go to sleep once you made sure he was fully knocked out for the night. 

A few hours went by, both of you enjoying each other’s warmth, until the sound of an alarm interrupted your sleep. You groaned as you reached for your phone to turn it off, but immediately sat up and grabbed his medicine.

Lando shuffled next to you, groaning too as he slightly opened his eyes to quickly scan the room. “It’s still dark outside, why do you have an alarm?” He asked, his voice sleepy and his eyes half closed as he looked at you.

“Sorry, love, it’s time for your medicine again.” 

He sat up and took the little spoon you were offering him, his sleepy state saving him from the terrible taste it had. Once he was done, he fell on his pillow again and pulled into him, going back to your previous position.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Even though the sleep was evident in his voice, you could still hear how truly thankful he was.

You placed your hands on each of his cheeks, causing his eyes to flutter shut in contentment. “Of course, what type of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?” A soft kiss was pressed to his forehead before he brought you closer to him, a little ‘I love you’ scaping his lips as he went back to sleep.

[soulofapatrick]

A part of me is tethered to you - Azriel x female reader 

Summary: you can’t sleep and go to see out your best friends but end up going to Azriel

Warnings: none really; more fluff than anything 

Words: 4.3K

Y/N's POV

I toss and turn in bed, every position more uncomfortable than the last. My sheets are tangled around my legs, and no matter how many times I close my eyes, the restless feeling gnaws at me. Sleep refuses to come, my thoughts too loud and the remnants of my nightmare still clawing at the edges of my mind.

With a sigh, I sit up, running a hand through my hair. It’s no use—I won’t find peace tonight, not like this. Feyre or Cassian is probably still awake; they usually are, always up late. Maybe talking to one of them would help, at least enough to shake off this tension.

I slip out of bed and pull on my robe, the cool air of the House of Wind whispering over my skin as I step into the hallway. The house is quiet, its usual warmth a little muted in the dead of night. The stone beneath my feet feels grounding, steadying, but as I make my way down the corridor, something shifts inside me.

As I pass Azriel’s door, an invisible pull tugs at me, soft but insistent. I stop in my tracks, my heart suddenly beating faster in my chest. His door is closed, but the moment I’m near it, it’s as if something deep within me is drawn to it. A feeling I can’t quite explain—like I’m being called to him, to his presence, without words or reason.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.

I’m supposed to be heading to Cassian’s, but my feet don’t move. Instead, I find myself staring at Azriel’s door, the weight of my unspoken feelings pressing against my chest. I’ve tried to keep them buried, tried to convince myself that what I feel for him is nothing more than friendship—admiration, respect for the way he carries himself, for the quiet strength he exudes. But I know it’s a lie.

It’s so much more than that.

The truth is, I’m drawn to him in ways I can’t even fully comprehend. There’s something about him that calls to me—his shadows, his silence, the way he moves through the world with such restraint, such quiet intensity. And then there are the rare moments when his gaze lingers on me just a second too long, when the soft brush of his hand against mine sends a shock of warmth through my entire body.

I’ve been fighting these feelings for too long, pretending I don’t care. But standing here now, the pull toward his room stronger than ever, I can’t deny it anymore.

My hand hovers over the doorknob, hesitation prickling at the edges of my mind. What am I doing? I shouldn’t be here. He didn’t invite me in. But the draw is too strong to ignore, as if my heart knows something my mind doesn’t.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grip the handle and twist, slipping inside as quietly as possible. The door shuts behind me with a soft click, and I’m immediately enveloped by the warmth of his space. Shadows flicker lazily along the walls, but they seem calm, almost serene.

And then there’s his scent—cedarwood, smoke, and something distinctly him. It fills the room, wrapping around me like an embrace, and I find myself inhaling deeply, letting it seep into my skin. My heart races, but it’s not from fear or anxiety. It’s from something deeper, something that stirs in my chest every time I’m near him.

I step further into the room, my eyes falling on his bed. It’s perfectly made, the dark blankets smoothed out neatly. The pull tugs again, more insistent this time, urging me closer. My fingers graze the soft fabric, and a shiver runs through me. His bed looks so inviting, so warm, and without thinking, I let my hand glide over the blanket. I know I shouldn’t, but the temptation is too much.

Before I can stop myself, I’m pulling the covers back and slipping beneath them, sinking into the softness of his mattress. His scent is even stronger here, enveloping me completely, and I can’t help the way my body relaxes, every muscle softening as the warmth of the bed wraps around me.

It feels… right. Comforting in a way I hadn’t expected. As if being in his bed is exactly where I’m meant to be.

My head sinks into his pillow, and the overwhelming sensation of him makes my breath catch in my throat. My heart pounds in my chest, the awareness of what I’m doing—the intimacy of it—settling deep into my bones. It feels forbidden, like I’m crossing a line, but it also feels… so good. Like I’ve been craving this closeness, this connection, for longer than I want to admit.

I close my eyes, breathing him in, letting the warmth of his bed and the quiet of his room seep into me. There’s something about this space that makes me feel safe, something about him that makes the chaos in my mind go quiet. My feelings for Azriel—those hidden, aching feelings I’ve tried so hard to suppress—bubble to the surface, and for a moment, I let myself indulge in them.

What if… what if I didn’t have to hide them? What if he felt the same? The thought sends a thrill through me, but I push it aside, knowing it’s dangerous to hope for something like that.

Still, as I curl deeper into his bed, I can’t help but imagine him here, lying beside me, his presence a quiet comfort. I can almost feel the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his body pressed close. It’s a fantasy I’ve had more times than I care to admit, but here, wrapped in the reality of his space, it feels closer than ever.

And as the scent of him and the softness of his bed lull me further into warmth, I let my eyes drift shut, letting the fantasy take over, letting myself believe—for just a little while—that this could be real.

Sleep comes easily this time, with Azriel in my thoughts, the pull on my heart finally settling as I drift into a dream.

The gentle caress of fingers across my cheek stirs me from sleep. It's soft, featherlight, and for a moment, I think I'm still dreaming. But then it comes again—a slow, deliberate brush of fingertips against my skin, followed by the feeling of someone smoothing my hair back from my face.

I blink, eyes fluttering open, the world still hazy with sleep. It takes a second to register where I am, but when I do, my heart lurches in my chest.

Azriel is sitting on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes watching me with an expression so soft, so tender, that it sends a wave of warmth rushing through me. His shadows curl around him, flitting in and out of the room’s dim light, but there’s something about the way they seem to reach for me—gentle, almost curious, as if they’re part of him, mirroring the way his hand is smoothing my hair back. His touch is delicate, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he presses too hard.

My breath catches in my throat. This isn’t a dream.

Azriel’s gaze is steady, his eyes full of something I can’t quite name—something that makes my chest tighten and my skin flush. There’s no anger, no judgment. Just a quiet intensity, like he’s trying to figure out why I’m here, in his bed, yet there’s no trace of displeasure in his expression. If anything, he looks… amused. Fond, even.

I can’t breathe. My mind scrambles, replaying every step that led me here, and embarrassment crashes over me like a tidal wave. I’m in Azriel’s bed. His bed. Without permission. Without an invitation. Oh gods, what was I thinking?

Heat floods my face, and before I can stop myself, I yank the duvet over my head, retreating beneath the heavy fabric as if it could somehow shield me from the mortification that’s burning through me. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I’m sure my face must be crimson beneath the covers.

I hear a soft chuckle—low, barely audible—and it only makes my humiliation worse. Azriel, the Shadowsinger, deadly and unreadable, is laughing at me. Of course he is. I’m in his bed, hiding under his duvet like some child, utterly mortified by the fact that he found me here.

I can still feel his presence beside me, the warmth of him seeping through the blanket, his hand still resting lightly on top of the duvet where I know my head is hidden beneath. His fingers brush the fabric, a comforting gesture, as if to coax me out from my hiding place.

But I can’t. I can’t face him right now—not with my heart pounding like this, not with the knowledge that I’ve crossed a line I didn’t even realize I was crossing until it was too late.

His voice breaks the silence, soft and soothing. “You don’t have to hide.”

The sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and my grip tightens on the duvet. He sounds so calm, so gentle, and I don’t understand how he can be so unbothered when I’m dying of embarrassment under his blanket.

“I—” I try to speak, but the words get caught in my throat. What can I even say? How do I explain that I felt drawn to his room, that the pull was so strong I couldn’t resist? That I didn’t mean to invade his space, that I was just so tired and somehow, being here, surrounded by his scent and his warmth, made everything feel right?

I squeeze my eyes shut beneath the blanket, heat still rising to my cheeks. This is a nightmare. But instead of running, he stays—quiet, patient. His shadows curl around me, and I can feel the gentle pulse of his presence, waiting for me to emerge. Waiting for me to face him.

I take a breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and slowly—hesitantly—I pull the duvet down just enough to peek out at him. He’s still there, his dark eyes fixed on mine, and the warmth in his gaze makes my stomach flip.

His lips curve into the slightest smile, and it takes everything in me not to hide again. But there’s no judgment in his eyes, no anger. Only that quiet, steady intensity that always seems to surround him, as if he’s seeing something in me that I’ve tried so hard to keep hidden.

“I didn’t mean to…” I trail off, my voice barely above a whisper, not knowing how to explain myself, not knowing how to make this less awkward. “I couldn’t sleep, and… I just…” I glance away, feeling the burn of my embarrassment all over again.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me, and then his hand moves again, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch so tender it almost undoes me.

“You’re always welcome here,” he says softly, his voice like a whisper in the quiet room.

Azriel’s soft gaze lingers on me, and I can feel the warmth of it, steady and reassuring. I should feel more embarrassed than I already do, but there’s something about him—his presence, the way he’s just there—that soothes me. His hand is still gentle in my hair, smoothing it back in a rhythm that makes me want to close my eyes again and sink into it.

“What’s going on?” he asks quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. It’s a tone he uses when he wants someone to open up, when he’s coaxing out a truth they’re too afraid to admit. His fingers pause in my hair, and my breath catches in my throat. I don’t want to lie. I can’t lie—not to him.

“I’ve… I’ve been having nightmares,” I admit, the words coming out in a rush. I shift under the duvet, suddenly feeling vulnerable, exposed. “I haven’t been able to sleep. But last night…” I glance up at him, the blush rising again in my cheeks. “Last night, I slept. In here. In your bed. It was peaceful. I don’t know why, but it was.”

Azriel’s expression softens further, something like understanding flickering across his features. He studies me for a moment, his shadows still swirling around us like they’re listening too, before he nods. He doesn’t ask why I didn’t come to him earlier, or why I kept it to myself. He just accepts it, the way he always does.

He stands slowly, his movements deliberate, and I realize for the first time that he’s still in his armour—his siphons gleaming faintly in the dim light. The realisation sends a fresh wave of heat over me. He must’ve been out, maybe just returned from one of his late-night missions, and here I am, taking over his bed. My guilt surges, but then I see the calm in his eyes, and it melts away.

Azriel starts unfastening his siphons, setting each one down with a practiced ease, and as I watch, something strange stirs in my chest—something that makes me feel both breathless and desperate to look away. But I don’t. I can’t.

He removes the last of his armour, and his hands move to the hem of his shirt. In one smooth motion, he tugs it over his head and tosses it aside. My heart stutters as my eyes take in the sight of him—his toned chest, the ripple of muscles beneath his skin, the faint scars that only seem to add to the raw power that radiates off him. My gaze moves lower, following the line of his stomach, and I feel my face burn as I realize how little space there is between us.

I should look away. I should turn around and give him some privacy, but I don’t move. I can’t. My body seems frozen in place, my breath hitching in my throat as he unbuttons his tight trousers and shimmies out of them, leaving him standing in just his black boxers.

He’s beautiful. Inhumanly beautiful. His wings unfurl slightly behind him, leathery and dark, casting long shadows across the room. They’re massive, strong, and powerful, but there’s something almost graceful about them, like they’re an extension of him in more ways than just physically.

A strange ache settles low in my stomach as I watch him. The air between us feels charged, and my heart pounds in my chest, each beat louder than the last. I feel that tug again, that invisible thread pulling me toward him, urging me closer.

Azriel’s eyes meet mine, and they’ve darkened—intense and unreadable, like he knows exactly what’s going through my mind. His gaze seems to burn into me, the weight of it making my pulse race, and I swallow hard, trying to steady my breath. But it’s impossible, especially when he moves closer, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps.

“Move over,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I blink up at him, my body too tense to react, but then his lips curve into the faintest smile, a soft nudge to break the tension. “Come on,” he says, softer now, his eyes never leaving mine.

I scootch over, making room for him, though my heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it. He slides into bed beside me, his body so close I can feel the heat radiating off him, and my breath catches again, the space between us suddenly feeling too small.

Azriel settles beside me, his wings curling slightly around us, cocooning us in a soft darkness. His presence is overwhelming in the best possible way, and as he lies there, inches from me, I can’t help but feel like the world has narrowed down to just us—this bed, this moment.

And I can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—he feels it too.

Azriel shifts closer, the bed dipping beneath his weight, and before I can react, his arm slides around my waist, pulling me against him. My heart stumbles in my chest, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He’s so close—closer than I’ve ever been to him. His warmth seeps into me, the solidness of his body pressing against mine in a way that feels both comforting and electrifying at the same time.

I should pull away, should give him space. But instead, I melt into him, my body fitting against his as if we’ve done this a thousand times. The scent of him—night-chilled air, cedar, and something uniquely Azriel—fills my senses, grounding me and setting me alight all at once.

His breath is warm against my hair, and I can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my hand. I’m not sure what to say, how to fill the space between us now that we’re like this, but then his voice breaks the silence, low and rough.

“You shouldn’t have to sleep alone if it’s that bad.” There’s a hint of something deeper in his words, something that sends a shiver down my spine. His thumb begins to trace slow circles along my waist, and I swear I can feel each stroke burning through the thin fabric of my clothes.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “It’s not just the nightmares…” The words slip out before I can stop them. I don’t know why I said it—why I feel the need to bare the truth of what’s been gnawing at me. But now that the words are out, I can’t take them back.

He tenses slightly, his arm tightening around me. “What else is it, then?” His voice is softer now, but there’s a heaviness to it, like he’s afraid of the answer.

I hesitate, my pulse racing. The air between us seems to thrum with something unspoken, something that’s been simmering beneath the surface for so long I don’t know how to let it out. But lying here, wrapped in his arms, with the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, I feel braver than I have in a long time.

“I sleep better when I’m with you,” I whisper, the admission barely audible, but I know he hears it. I feel his breath catch, the shift in his body as my words sink in. “Last night… it was the first time in ages I didn’t wake up in a panic.” My heart is pounding now, and I can feel the flush spreading across my cheeks. “Being near you… it calms me.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and I bite my lip, wondering if I’ve said too much. If I’ve crossed a line. But then, slowly, Azriel moves, his fingers tilting my chin so I’m looking up at him.

His eyes are dark, swirling with emotions I can’t quite read, but there’s something there—something raw and intense that makes my breath hitch. His thumb brushes along my jaw, and I lean into the touch without thinking.

“I didn’t know,” he says quietly, his voice rough around the edges. His thumb strokes my skin again, almost like he’s testing the waters, and I feel that ache in my chest grow sharper. “I didn’t know it was like that for you.”

I blink up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Azriel, I—” My voice falters, my throat tightening as the weight of what I’m feeling crashes over me. I’ve kept these feelings buried for so long, locked away because it never felt like the right time, because I didn’t think he’d ever see me like that. But now, with him holding me like this, the truth feels too close to keep hidden.

His hand moves to cup the side of my face, his touch so gentle it makes my heart ache. “You never have to hide from me,” he murmurs, his eyes searching mine. There’s a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability I’ve never seen before, and it takes my breath away.

My chest tightens, and I take a shaky breath, feeling the tug in my heart pulling me toward him, drawing me in. I don’t know if it’s his shadows or something deeper between us, but every part of me is screaming that this is where I’m supposed to be—here, with him.

That tug in my chest tightens, and suddenly, I know.

It’s not just attraction. It’s not just this bond between friends, or the warmth of being close to someone who understands me. It’s something more. Something I can’t deny anymore, no matter how hard I try.

“Azriel…” My voice is shaky as I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt. “Do you feel that?”

His hand moves from my waist to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. He nods, his jaw clenched, as if he’s struggling to find the right words. “I’ve felt it for a while now,” he admits, his voice low, almost hoarse. “I just didn’t know if it was real. If it was possible.”

I swallow hard, my heart racing as the realization settles between us. It’s not just a pull, not just a bond forged in battle or friendship. It’s deeper than that. Stronger. My emotions have always been sharp around him, heightened in ways I couldn’t explain, and now I understand why.

We’re mates.

The thought crashes into me like a storm, and I see the same realization flicker in his eyes. His breath hitches, and for a moment, he looks at me like he’s afraid to believe it, afraid to hope. But I feel it—the undeniable truth, the connection between us that’s always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

“I didn’t want to push you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s always been there. That pull… every time I’m near you, I feel it. Like a part of me is tethered to you.”

My chest tightens, and I bite my lip, trying to steady my racing heart. “It’s the same for me,” I admit, my voice small but certain. “Whenever you’re close, I can feel it. Like you’re part of me.”

His thumb strokes my jaw again, and I shiver at the touch, my skin tingling under his gentle caress. “I thought I was imagining it,” he says quietly, his gaze never leaving mine. “But now… now I know.”

He leans in closer, his forehead resting against mine, and the warmth of him, the strength of him, floods through me. “We’re mates,” I whisper, the words heavy with meaning, and his grip on me tightens as he exhales shakily.

His eyes darken, and I see the raw emotion there—the longing, the need, the fear and hope all tangled together. “I never thought…” His voice breaks off, and he shakes his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I never thought I’d be this lucky.”

I feel a soft tug in my chest, that same pull toward him, and without thinking, I press my lips to his cheek, just a gentle touch, barely there. His breath hitches, and before I can pull away, his hand slips to the back of my neck, gently pulling me back toward him.

His lips are on mine in an instant, and the world falls away.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if we’re testing the waters, but it deepens quickly, becoming something more. It’s not just a kiss—it’s the release of everything we’ve held back for so long, all the unspoken feelings, the quiet longing, the need to be close. His hand slides to my waist, pulling me tighter against him, and I can feel his heart beating wildly beneath my palm.

I melt into him, my body pressing against his as his wings flare behind him, cocooning us in shadow. His lips move against mine, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it, and I can’t help the soft sigh that escapes me as I kiss him back with everything I have.

It’s not enough. I want more. I need more.

When we finally break apart, both of us are breathless, and I can see the same hunger in his eyes that I feel in my own chest. His forehead presses against mine, and his voice is a ragged whisper when he speaks.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing along my lower lip. “Wanted you for so long.”

I close my eyes, my heart full to bursting, and I press my lips to his once more. “I’ve wanted you too,” I whisper back, my voice trembling with the weight of the truth. “I think… I think I’ve always known.”

Azriel pulls me closer, and I rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. His wings wrap around us, sheltering us from the world, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel truly at peace. 

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[loveinhawkins]

”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.

The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—

Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.

He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.

But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.

I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.

Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.

“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”

“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.

If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?

“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”

Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.

Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.

“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”

Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.

He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.

“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.

The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”

His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…

Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.

“The shire, then,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”

And they do.

Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.

He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…

“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.

“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.

There’s no rush.

[miley1442111]

insomniac- a.hotchner

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

i have diagnosed insomnia so literally do not fucking come for me if u think something is 'wrong' ❤️

summary: how aaron helps with your insomnia episodes

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: fluff, discussions of insomnia and feeling 'different' because of it, mental health, crying, comfort.

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Aaron knew he missed something. He knew you would never be this cold to him if he hadn’t. It had been an entire week of a case, and his calendar updated meaning that all of his reminders had been deleted. The case was awful, but at least it was in DC. Yet, every night he came home to you asleep on the couch, a plate of dinner in the fridge lacking its regular note, and a cold bed. 

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He walked inside and locked the door behind him, he knew you’d be awake, it was only 5pm. He walked further into the house, hearing your soft singing while you cooked dinner and Jack’s giggles as you two danced. 

Aaron leant against the door, smiling at you two. You two were the loves of his life. He adored you two. 

“Daddy!” Jack squealed, excited to see his dad for the first time that day.

“Hey buddy,” he smiled, picking him up when he ran to him. 

“Hi darling,” you smiled at Aaron, a familiar tone in your voice. Was it hurt? Or upset? Or anger? 

“Hi love,” he smiled and kissed your forehead as you burrowed into his side. He felt confused. If you were angry with him, why were you so close?

“Bug and me went to the playground after school today!” Jack beamed. Bug had been the nickname you were given as a child and when your family came over to meet Jack and Aaron, they called you it. Aaron, on occasion called you Bug but he used it sparingly. Only on certain occasions he felt it necissary. Whereas Jack exclusively called you Bug. Bug was your nickname as a kid because well, you liked bugs. 

You removed yourself from Aaron’s embrace with a subtle yawn and continued cooking at the stove, swaying your hips slightly to the soft music in the background. 

“Bug hasn’t been sleeping this week,” Jack whispered in his ear and it all made sense. You had insomnia, you’d had it since you were a child. The only place you’d ever felt you could actually sleep when you had an episode like this is the couch, since it’s where your parents would let you sleep as they watched tv late at night. Aaron nodded his head and put Jack down, signalling for him to go play in his playroom. Jack didn’t need to be told twice. 

“Baby?” Aaron murmured as he held you from behind, swaying with you. 

“Hm?” You hummed lazily. “How was your case?”

“Fine. Long. How are you?” He asked, his concern about you trumping the horrors he’d seen that week.

“Fine, not much is going on at work-” You tried to lie, but Aaron was a profiler for fuck’s sake. He saw the tired and glossy eyes, felt the tensed muscles in your back against his chest, noticed the way your arms hung lower, and the way you slightly dragged your feet. 

“Bug,” he softly scolded. You sighed and it turned into a yawn. “You’re not sleeping?” He could feel the heave in your chest, the way you bit your lip as your eyes threatened to spill the tears you’d kept in all week. Your breathing accelerated and he pressed one of his large hands over your diaphragm, feeling your sporadic breathing. “It’s ok darling, let it out.”

You whipped around, sobbing into his chest. You were sick of it, sick of this. Asking yourself the same questions since you were a child “why am i different?” “Why can everyone else just sleep?” “It’s a regular bodily function, we need it to survive, why can’t I sleep?”

Feeling just the same as your childhood self, tired and scared, wondering if you’d be like this forever. 

Aaron always helped, you were a lot worse at the beginning of your relationship but he helped you sleep, got you to doctors, and made an effort to understand you. 

“I fucking hate this,” you whispered into his chest. “I hate not sleeping.”

“I know, I just wish there was something I could do,” Aaron had felt helpless in this area of your relationship. He’d had the odd sleepless night, anyone in his position would. But he couldn’t even imagine the difficulty of your situation. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you for being here,” you whispered, wiping your tears away. He put a hand under your chin, making you look at him. 

“I’ll always be here for you, always,” he promised.

You nodded and turned back around, finishing off dinner. 

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After dinner, Aaron washed up as you put Jack to sleep, then grabbed your blankets and pillow to set up on the couch for the night. When you walked downstairs, you found Aaron sitting on the couch in his pyjamas. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled and pulled you into his lap by your waist. Your tired head landed on his chest and you allowed your eyes to close as you listened to him recount his week and the case. He held you tight, tighter than usual. Though, you didn’t mind. 

After an hour or so, Aaron noticed the steady, snoozing breaths falling from your lips and he carried you to your shared bed, setting you down beside him. His arms wrapped around you and he fell asleep, happy to know that you were sleeping soundly. 

He knew this wouldn’t be the last episode, or the worst, but he was happy to help anyway. 

In any way he could.

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criminal minds masterlist :) <- other insomniac reader works here :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[worldlxvlys]

FOR THE DWB W MATT PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE DO A FIC WHERE HE COMES OVER N THE GUY IS STILL THERE I WANNA SEE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN🙏🏻🙏🏻 YOU DONT HAVE TO THO ID JUST LOVE TO SEE IT👁️👁️

lose your shit

dwb! matt x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, violence, mentions of blood, cursing

based on these texts, it won’t really make sense if you don’t read them.

a/n: the guy’s name is alex, i hope you like this <333

shit shit shit shit.

this is not good. i look over to the man laying in my bed, he was in a dead sleep.

matt doesn’t live that far away, maybe 10 minutes tops. however, he could have left before he even sent that text.

fuck.

i began to shake alex awake. “you gotta wake up, dude”

after a few seconds, he stirred and opened his eyes. “what’s wrong?” he asked, letting out a yawn.

“nothing. you just really need to fucking go”

“alright damn, but what’s the rush?”

“please just hurry up, i don’t have time for this” i said, pulling him off the bed.

“damn, was the sex that bad?” i didn’t even answer, just looked him up and down.

“alright, jeez” i collected his clothes from the floor and handed them to him.

he took the hint, beginning to get dressed.

when he was done he just stood there.

“was there something else you needed?” i asked trying to figure out why he wouldn’t leave.

“can i at least brush my teeth?”

“does this look like a fucking hotel to you? take your shit, and get out. now.” i answered, starting to get annoyed.

he just stared at me, mouth open.

“you do have a tooth brush and running water at your house, correct?”

“well, yeah. but-“

“ok that is amazing, lovely, the quicker you get out of my house, the quicker you can take care of your dental hygiene” i said nudging him out of my room.

i pushed him all the way to my door. maybe there is hope for this man after all.

when i opened the door, there stood matt.

fucking hell.

that has to be the worst timing i’ve ever had in my entire life.

his eyes immediately snapped toward alex. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“i could ask you the same thing, matty-boy”

they know each other.

the two men stared at each other, never breaking the intense glare.

“oh great! you two know each other! well, alex was just about to head home so, y’all can catch up later” i said, trying to get him to walk away.

“actually, i think i’m gonna stay” he said, looking matt up and down.

well, shit.

this was like something out of a god damn movie. and while it didn’t surprise me that matt was acting this way, i wasn’t expecting this from alex.

alex did not seem like the type of guy to start a fight, he seemed more like the type to run away from one. he simply wasn’t built for it, at least, that’s what i thought.

matt clenched his jaw before grabbing alex by his shirt, pulling him outside and pushing him against my house.

“jesus christ, matt” i said in shock.

“what ya gonna do matty? gonna hit me?” matt did just that, swinging at alex’s face.

“you need to stay the fuck away from her. got it?”

“no can do, matty pooh. i can’t lie, she’s a good fuck”

matt didn’t like his comment, as he pulled his fist back to punch alex again.

alex, however, was quicker this time. he caught matt’s fist with one hand and swung at him with the other.

yeah, i was definitely wrong about alex.

“hey fuckers! i don’t know if you’ve noticed but my house is white. it’d be lovely if you didn’t get blood on it !” i yelled, making matt turn his head towards me.

alex took advantage of matt’s distraction to land another blow to matt’s face.

that shit looked like it hurt.

i then pulled matt away, placing myself between the two.

“you two need to get a fucking grip” i turned to alex. “walk away before i call the cops on your ass”

i turned to matt, “you’ve made your point, let him go”

matt gave him one last glare before gesturing alex to go. with that, alex walked off “your face isn’t the only place i left marks ” he mumbled.

matt started to walk after him, but i placed my hand on his chest to stop him.

i tilted my head at him, looking into his eyes. “it’s fine. just let him go” he looked at me, eyes softening, and nodded.

once i heard alex’s car door shut and him drive away, i pulled matt inside “come on”.

i brought him to my bathroom, pulling out my first aid kit.

“did he actually mark you up?” he asked, as i grabbed a wash cloth for his face.

“no, matt. he was just trying to get under your skin” i said as i ran water over the cloth and brought it to his face.

i began to clean his cuts, making him grimace. “i know, i know. sorry”

my tongue poked out a little past my lips, as i continued to clean his cuts.

he stared down at my lips the whole time, not saying a word.

“all done.” i said as i finished up. i started to reach over him to grab a bandage. “lemme just grab a-“ he suddenly grabbed my arm halting my movements as he studied my face.

my face felt hot under his gaze, as i tried not to show how nervous he made me. without another word, he grabbed my face, pulling me in for a kiss.

he kissed me with passion, like he was pouring all of his emotions into it. it wasn’t hungry or lust-driven. it said all the things that we could never say to each other’s faces.

he pulled away, pressing his forehead to mine. “what was that for?” i asked, eyes still closed.

“i need you to know that i care about you” my eye opened at this, staring into mine.

“i’m not using you for sex. i could never do that, baby. and i’m so sorry i ever made you feel that way. you are the most important thing to me. i can’t lose you, and i couldn’t live with myself if i let anything happen to you.”

he pecked my nose.

“i know that you’re capable of making your own decisions, and i’m not trying to take that away from you. but i know that guy and he’s not the type of person you want to be around. i can’t just watch him ruin you.” he moves a piece of hair out of my face.

“so i’m sorry that i just showed up here. i’m sorry i lost my shit. i’m sorry about the blood on your house” we both chuckled.

“but i can’t help it when it comes to you, you drive me crazy”

“hmm i don’t know i kinda like it when you lose your shit, it’s hot” i said as our noses touched.

he pushed my hips against my sink.

“good” he said as he went in for another kiss.

🌀🌀🌀🌀

hope you liked :)

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @chrissturnioloswifey @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @sosmatt @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War IIII

Author's Note: I hit a massive writer's slump, thank you for all your patience! Have some Smut, as a treat!

Content Warnings: SMUT with Some Plot I Swear--Masturbation, I guess there's kinda a hint of hate-fucking here but only if you squint, Exhibitionism, Thigh Riding (it's always the hands and thighs of this man I swear it's all I think about); Canon Typical Violence, Character Death (Unnamed), Mentions of Starvation/Abuse.

Summary: Reader grapples with her feelings towards Rhysand and what she has to do to save her people.

Previous Chapter/ Masterlist

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Rhysand is the enemy. His hands have spilled the blood of thousands of innocents. He’s most likely torturing people as we speak. He. Is. The. Enemy.

So why do I lie awake, hours after he’s gone, still thinking about how his hands had felt on my skin? Why do I lay here, tracing the path his lips had taken down my throat and collarbones, around my chest and sides, imagining what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted?

He is the enemy. I plan to seduce and destroy him. I will make him pay for all the pain he has caused me and my people.

But who is supposed to tell my body that everything that happened tonight isn’t real? That it’s all part of the plan to get him to let his guard down, I’m not actively interested in sleeping with him. I’m not! 

It’s just that I haven’t slept with anybody in a long time--that has to be it right? What other explanation do I have for the lingering ache between my legs? For the wandering thoughts of what those hands might have felt like between my thighs?

Every time I close my eyes I replay that moment: The feel of his warm body atop mine, callused hands roaming my skin, lips sucking marks into my throat. Gods I let Rhysand give me hickeys!

I’m going to die of shame.

If the need boiling in the pit of my stomach doesn’t take me out first.

I absolutely refuse to do anything about it! I won’t. Selling my soul to get information is one thing, to try and get off while imagining my enemy is a whole other evil. I can’t! It’s all kinds of fucked up.

I think there might actually be something wrong with me, because the more I try and tell myself it’s wrong, the more wetness I feel between my legs, the tighter the coil in my belly grows. My body actively wants something my brain refuses to let me acknowledge, and so I lay there in a bed that smells so much like him, trying to keep my hands off my still bare skin. I should, at the very least, get up and find where Rhysand had thrown my sweater. He’ll get the wrong idea if he comes back to find me still topless in bed. The middle of the night’s a hard time to get information out of anyone, there’s no reason to try and pick up where we left off tonight. I should just go to sleep.

I pull the pillow over my head and try to imagine all the gruesome, brutal ways he’s probably torturing his captives so I’m no longer laying here thinking about his body. It should work like an ice bath, right? But my mind will not linger on thoughts of blood, only how hot he’d looked scrubbing it off those swirls of ink around his bare chest earlier.

He’s going to be the death of me!

It’s like I can’t escape him. The scent of him is all over the bed, no matter where I lay or how many blankets I shift around. His touch lingers on my skin, the more I try to fight it, the more I find my hands trying to replicate the feeling. I roll my nipple between my fingers, imagining the feel of his calluses against my sensitive peaks. My other hand slides down my stomach, slipping easily beneath the worn waistband of my pants.

This is wrong!

I pull my hand away with a groan. I cannot be doing this.

He is the enemy.

I am doing the seducing. Not him. Me! And I have to have more willpower than this. I can’t be so Cauldron damned horny that a couple kisses gets me this worked up! Seriously, how does one male have this much sway over me already?

I can fight this. I am stronger than this…

I make it all of five minutes before my hand is once again sliding beneath my waistband, tracing its way down to the pool of wetness gathering between my thighs. 

He is the enemy.

Yet he would have found no resistance if he stayed. I would have easily surrendered under his touch, let it ignite a wildfire beneath my skin until I’d willingly spread my legs and let him take whatever he needed from my body. I hate the very thought of it, but I know, as my hips buck feverishly against my own hand, that I would have done it. 

“Rhys,” the whimper slips past my lips before I can bite it down, pleasure licking white hot down my spine. I’m too far gone to even be mortified at this point, chasing that high while my imagination runs wild with all the things that might have been tonight. 

It’s unfair that the sheets smell so strongly of him, only fueling my imagination, all the way to the edge of such jarring bliss. Only then does my body finally relax, my thoughts satiated for now. I can be mortified in the morning. Surely, I’ll hate myself in the light of day, but tonight, tonight I’m exhausted and I finally feel comfortable enough to sleep.

----

My dreams are full of my people hurling rocks at me, chasing me out of the Grasslands, calling me a traitor and a whore, Tam telling me never to come back; I try to visit my parents grave, but can never find it, as even in death they cannot bear to be near me.  The guilt I feel upon waking is worse than I imagined it could be. How could I be doing this? How could I want it?

The guilt  makes my skin itch. Every bit of me feels like it needs to be scrubbed down to the bone. I climb out of the bed and go to the basin of water to attempt to get clean. There’s a small mirror hanging from a string against the wall, the worn glass giving a spotty view of the bruises across my throat. I’d let Rhysand give me, not just one, but four hickeys, trailing down past my collarbone. There might have been more were it not for my appearance. I trail the damp towel down my torso, fingers ticking against my ribs like piano keys. I’m so godsdamned thin. It’s not unusual, most of my people are, save for Tamlin and his riders--riders always get first dibs on supplies, the rest of us get the scraps, especially when we haven’t been claimed--but I’d never thought about how bad it might look to someone outside of camp. With the scars I bear from my father’s temper, this looks intentional.

I glance up at the circles under my eyes, my reflection in the mirror hollow as a chill runs through me. Supplies have been thin lately, but… Dear old Dad had intentionally withheld supplies from the un-marked in camp as an incentive to get them to bend the knee, Tam knew that, was trained to do it, and he’d been so miserable lately, it wasn’t intentional, right?

I give myself a shake. Tam’s cold even on his good days, but he’d never intentionally do that to me, no matter how unruly I’ve been in the last couple weeks before this mess. Lucien would always sneak me snacks for him on days he was too busy to come see me; I’m just being paranoid. Being here is messing with my brain.

I toss the dirty towel in a bin and untie my hair. There’s no brushes around so I use my fingers to comb through the knots and tie it loosely behind my head. It’s only when I’m done and half way into my discarded sweater that the tent flap blows open and Mor storms her way in.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” She says by way of greeting.

How is she so perky all the time?

There’s a large bag in her hands that she hurls at me with surprising strength. “Time to get dressed! We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“What’s the occasion?” I should feel excited with the prospect of getting out there and getting new information, but what are the chances we’re going right to Rhysand? How am I supposed to look at him after last night? No I think it’s for the better if I just sit right here in this tent and continue to torture myself with my thoughts. 

“Dress first, talk second,” she returns, hands reaching to help untie the bag since I’m moving too slow for her liking. Bits of dark cloth poke out, the bottom of the bag heavy and lumpy in a way that makes me think I’m holding a pair of shoes. 

Mor pulls out a top, the material as dark as her own, though hers has sleeves, this has none, just a band across my torso. The inside is lined with fur at least. I don’t even have time to question it before she starts pulling the other stuff out and rushing me to get dressed. There’s a moment where I think she might actually start undressing me if I don’t start moving, so I dip behind the bed for some privacy, clothes bundled under my arm. 

The skirt 's more loose fabric cinched around my hips than an actual skirt, nearly all my legs on display. I stare at the vast expanse of my skin and then up at Mor. “Please tell me there’s pants to go with these?” I don’t want to sound ungrateful since my clothes are barely holding on as is, but I also really don’t want to be walking around camp mostly naked either. 

“You’ve got nice legs,” she says, eyes roving over me approvingly. “You’ll look hot.”

“I feel naked,” I retort.

“You’ll adjust. Now hurry up!”

The top is warm but it leaves my arms bare, and even the fur lined ankle boots don’t keep me as warm as I would be if I had a pair of pants. “I really don’t want to sound ungrateful-”

“No time for second thoughts, you’re committed to it now.” Mor interrupts, ushering me over to the mirror again to adjust my hair. 

Her delicate fingers brush over my throat as she works and she grins at me in the reflection of the mirror. “Have some fun last night, did we?”

A blush makes its way across my cheeks. “Well, um…”

She laughs as she braids, blue eyes twinkling as she continues to watch my reflection. “I see now why he picked this top. Gotta show everyone your his.” Mor rolls her eyes. “Males! Always so territorial. Though, if I were you, I’d give him a few back in return.”

“Why do I have competition?” I blurt out. That’s a stupid question to ask. Look at him! Of course I’d have competition. But, despite myself, a flicker of jealousy worms its way into my chest.

“Oh there’s quite a few people in camp who’d literally kill to be you,” she returns as she pins my hair to the top of my haid. Using her fingers, she pulls a few loose strands free to frame my face. “He’s been eligible for a long time now.”

“How come?” I ask as she grabs my shoulders and turns me around so she can apply some dark makeup under my eyes.

The amusement in her eyes fades a bit as she says, “His wife…” She clears her throat and turns away to find where she left a tube of lip color. “Feyre. She was killed a couple years ago by Amarantha.”

My breath catches in my throat, chest heavy with the thought. “Oh.”

“He’s been a ghost since she died,” Mor gives herself a little shake as she turns back with the color and dabs a bit of maroon on my lips. “I’ve watched all these females throw themselves at him and it’s like he can’t see them. Usually the males in my family move on quick, you know? Gotta keep the bed warm somehow, right?”

I nod, having seen it well enough back home. 

“But Rhys…” she sighs. “I thought Rhys died that day too, but now you’re here and I can see a little life in his eyes again. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Gods the guilt is coming back! I should be glad that this monster got a fraction of the pain he caused others inflicted on him, but instead, my heart only aches for him, as if I can feel that pain in my own chest. The female he loved was dead and the monster that killed her was once again knocking on his doorstep. No wonder he’d asked for a distraction last night! And I’d planned to take advantage of that vulnerability.

My stomach turns. 

Mor grips my hands tightly. “I’m glad you’re here. I think he needs you, ya know?”

Please, Mother, kill me! Strike me with lightning or let the ground open up and swallow me. I am a horrible, terrible person.

“You’re too kind, Mor, really I don’t think-” but she doesn’t let me finish as she gives herself a little shake to collect herself and starts ushering me towards the door.

“Now we gotta hurry! We’re gonna be late!”

The early morning light rushes to meet us, such a stark contrast to the darkness of the tent. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, her hand on my wrist leading me along, oblivious to how blind I am. Once I can finally see, I try to take stock of my surroundings and get my bearings. The set-up is a semi-circle of tents, all open and bustling with activity. Fae of all shape and sizes hurry from their tents, the males wearing fighting leathers, the females wearing variations of my own get-up. No one even glances our way, save for the lone male stalking towards us. He’s massive, a head taller than everyone he passes, a giant sword strapped between his tightly tucked wings. I recognize the sword as one I’d seen on one of Rhysand’s riders, though I hadn’t gotten a chance to glimpse his face then. He’s handsome, his dark hair tied back out of his face with a long string. A bit of stubble dusts his jaw, barely hiding a scar that cuts his way across his cheek. 

“Y/N, this is Cassian,” Mor introduces, no trace of her earlier seriousness to be found. She is once again all smiles. “He’s Rhys’s general.”

General. He certainly looks the part. He could crush my head with his biceps alone if he wanted! 

I don’t know how to move in these stupid skirts, let alone curtsey or bow in any sort of way as I would have back home so all I can manage is to dip my head in greeting. “Hello.” I hope it's enough to not offend this hulking mass of a male.

Despite his size, an easy-going grin cuts across his face. “Glad to officially meet you, Y/N!” His voice booms, even under the din of the rushing crowd. “We should get moving, he’s waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” I ask Mor, wrapping my arms around myself as a breeze hits me head on.

“You didn’t tell her?” Cassian returns.

“He told me not to,” Mor retorts as she loops her arm through mine to help lead me forward. 

This is not instilling anything but anxiety in me, but this is my chance to look around  so I have to take it. Not that the cold helps. It’s an effort to try and count the tents as my teeth start chattering. 

We follow the crowd down the hill, past a set of sentries that guard the path at the bottom as we head into the main encampment. Some of the people around whisper to each other in a mixture of languages, but there is too much moving and noise for me to get a good grasp on what’s being said. Mor doesn’t say anything either, just keeps one arm looped in mine and the other in Cassian’s to keep us from getting separated.

Once inside the main encampment, past another set of sentires, the path splits and becomes rows of tents, laid out like city streets. I’ve never seen a camp look so methodically laid out, each space like a well groomed and planned street. There are even amounts of tents on each side, firepits and places to sit breaking up the road between them. It’s all very homey and… permanent. A spike of envy rises in my chest as I take it in. This is not a camp that ups and moves frequently. It is settled and intentional in its spacing. It might not be the cities the Night Court once boasted in the days before Hybern, but it is still far more a city than the Grasslands had ever seen. I try to count them as we pass, but lose my train of thought after fifty, when the road starts to thin and people push in around us from every direction. I will have to get back another time and recount. 

The path continues forward, for some time, growing smaller and smaller until we come to a standstill. Mor huffs something about being late as we’re forced to wait under the rising sun as whatever is ahead of us gets closer, one step at a time. Eventually, a large amphitheater comes into view, set deep into the ground like a giant, stone step flanked pit. It must have taken months to dig this deep, let alone shape the stones into such smooth edges. How long has this encampment been here? 

It takes what feels like an hour to reach the flat edge at the top where holes have been drilled into it so that banners can be held aloft, each massive pole waving a different flag. There are multiple Night Court black flags, the shimmering triple stars over matching mountains, but there are others too: Twin Wyverns chasing each other’s tales, their golden maws open and ready to snatch and eat the other; A set of bat-like wings open and extended across a crimson flag, an eight point star at its center. Under each banner, crowded atop the steps are fae of all shapes and sizes, all separated into sections, their clothes matching the color of the banner they sit or stand under. I’ve never seen anything like it. I want to take a second to take it in but I can’t focus on any of it. Not when, at the heart of the pit, standing over two bound figures, is the male that claims to be my mate.

My breath hitches in my chest when I see him. 

He is the enemy. 

This is the male that stormed into our camp all those years ago, this is the male that slaughtered my people in cold blood. Any warmth I had ever seen in those, nearly glowing, violet eyes is gone, only cold indifference remains. Atop his raven hair sits an obsidian crown, the pointed centerpiece glittering with three gems in the center, a nod to the stars marked on the arm of every person crammed into the amphitheater. He wears fighting leathers, but not the ones he’d worn into battle, these are all black, polished to a shine in the early morning light. And his wings! By the Cauldron, I’ve never paid so much attention to anything as I watch the massive membrane flare out behind him, decorated in swirling patterns of violet and blue ink, the patterns a twin to the tattoos that circle over his exposed biceps. He looks every bit a Lord. No, every bit a Dark Prince. Wisps of darkness slither off his shoulders, twining over his fingertips, dancing around his hips and thighs. I feel the power of him in my veins as Cassian leads us down the steps.

No one pays us any mind as we pass, their attention and anger, judging by the shouts they throw, are all honed at the males kneeling at Rhysand’s feet. They’ve been stripped down to their underthings, bare chests slashed with even, precise lines of a blade, the blood long since dried. Both have short, dark hair and eyes so black it looks like all pupil. There are more slashes beneath their eyes, the marks fresher than the others, a few droplets of blood dripping down their cheeks like tears. 

Cassian leads us to the bottom row, where I recognize the shadowy figure of Azriel, saving us a spot. The other male stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the dagger he’d been spinning in his hands last night now safely strapped to his thigh. I shiver as he puts a hand on my back to motion me into a seat between him and Cassian, with Mor squeezing her way in between him and I so we remain together. The shouting of the crowd grows louder with each passing second, the volume and anger making my hair stand on end. I find myself reaching out for Mor’s hands, huddled beside her for both warmth and protection. 

Up until this point, Rhysand has been pacing, hands clasped behind his back, wings flaring behind him. Only once I’m seated does his gaze flick to me, eyes roving over my new attire and I hate the flutter in my stomach the look brings me. I should want him to be looking at me like that, but after what Mor had said, after what I’d done once he’d left… I look away quickly, torn more than ever on what I’m supposed to do here. 

I feel, more than see, the little smirk he gets as his eyes linger on the marks he’d left on my throat, but am spared from any more thoughts about last night when he finally looks away to address the crowd. It’s first in Illyrian, then in Basic. The change in languages makes his voice deeper, huskier; I’m more drawn to it than I’d like to be. Many things about the male are attractive, I’m not so blinded by disdain for him that I don’t notice them, his voice among the top qualities. There are quite a few females around me who lean forward in their seats, enraptured with his every word. It’s almost distracting enough that I forget there are two bound men at his feet.

Almost. My eyes flick to them. Their wounds are precise, methodical, not so deep it’ll kill them, but not so shallow it doesn’t hurt. They keep their heads to their chest as Rhysand speaks, dark eyes darting around for an escape. They say Amarantha’s men are worse monsters than the Illyrians, but they certainly don’t look terrifying now. They’re scrawny, like someone had plucked them off the street, no scars upon their skin to reveal any past battle wounds. I can’t decide if that means they’ve never seen a battle until now or if Amarantha’s fighting men have such an advantage that they’ve never been injured in one. 

“Amarantha thinks that she can do whatever she wants,” Rhysand’s voice booms across the amphitheater, the worn stones trembling beneath us. Darkness mists off his body, violet eyes glowing like starlight in his tan face. “But Hybern and his General have no power here!”

The crowd roars in agreement, some of the fighting men on their feet now, stamping the butts of their spears against the ground. 

“These are our lands!”

My ears ring under the din of the crowd. Mor grips my hand a little tighter to keep me steady. At least she’d been right about one thing: The amount of bodies packed into here makes the cold a little bearable, but I press as close to her as I can all the same. 

“We have bled and died for it!” Rhysand continues. “And we proved last night that we are not to be underestimated! We proved that if Amarantha thinks she can come here and take what is rightfully ours, that there will be blood to pay!”

A shiver runs up my spine as he speaks. Not just at what he says, but the truth of it. There is no mourning here. The injured in the crowd are few--only a handful of males sport bandages, no blood seeping through the white linen as if even the wounds that had landed were superficial and healing, not the open, bleeding mess I’m so used to seeing--and he’d said last night that his men had no casualties. Not only were their numbers greater than I had anticipated, but their powers are far beyond what we feared they were. Rhysand himself is a living testament to that. There isn’t anyone among us who doesn’t feel the reverberations of his power in our veins. His darkness doesn’t just flow from him, it ebbs into us, brushes against every person present like it’s introducing itself to us one by one. I don’t need to see him in battle to know that he can easily blow Amarantha’s men away by himself. He won’t even need an army.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Am I prepared to go up against a one man army?

“And we will make sure that is a lesson that bitch never forgets!” Rhysand roars as stars glitter around his outstretched hand, twinning between his fingers. His wings flair out behind him, the apex talons at the tip growing sharper, the violet of his eyes deepening, I swear I see fangs forming in his mouth. He’s not just powerful, he’s something wholly other.

The crowd jumps to its feet demanding the heads of the two males bound before them, and their Lord obliges, using a glittering trail of starlight to separate their heads from their shoulders, blood splatter across the stones. 

Rhysand lifts their heads up by the hair, admiring his work with nothing but pure satisfaction as he calls Azriel over to him. “Why don’t you deliver these to their doorstep?”

The shadowy figure of Azriel doesn’t even break stride as he grabs the heads from his lord and vanishes into shadow with them.

Interesting, so they know where Amarantha’s camp is? Tam had never been able to track her. Or maybe he’d never tried. 

Rhysand flicks the blood off his hands as he looks to the crowd and says, “We can expect a swift response, so let us be ready.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought. He can’t really be trying to take on Amarantha, can he?

“Bring all your un-marked forward, let us ensure the protection of those within our borders before we prepare to strengthen outside it.”

Shit!

I’d forgotten about that part. Why else would this outfit they’d dressed me up in not have sleeves unless they needed to mark me? It should have been obvious from the beginning but I’ve been so in my head I haven’t even stopped to think about the reasons behind all this. 

Mor grabs my arm gently, but I feel the strength hidden behind it regardless. She thinks I might try and run. Truth be told, I want to. How am I supposed to go home with Rhysand’s mark? Even if I manage to get all their numbers and weaknesses, that mark is permanent. It might literally be the signature on my death warrant, no matter what information I take home.

But it also puts me right in the middle of all important matters here. Rhysand said he wanted me to ride out with him. The things I could see if I do that! I’d know how many fighting men he has, would learn battle strategies and weak points, all things no one back home has ever been able to touch. 

Thankfully, Mor helps me stand, my shoes feel like they're full of sand. Even if I’m ready to face Rhysand, am I ready to face Tamlin when this is all said and done? 

Around me, males and females all step forward. A few struggle against it, having to be pulled down into the center of the amphitheater, others go alone, heads high. They’ll have to go through the blood littering the floor to get there, which is clever on Rhysand’s part. Swearing fealty here, after blood has been spilled makes this oath all the more magically binding. We’re all entered into a blood oath without spilling any of our own to do it. 

I let Mor lead me forward, despite every instinct to run. I will be closer than anyone to Rhysand. I can give my people the chance they deserve at having a good life. Maybe, when this is all said and done, this walled in haven could be a place we could call home, safe from war and hunger. I can ensure our future, all I have to do is damn myself to do it.

And put this male through more misery. The image of him last night, the dark circles around his eyes flashes across my mind and I have to give myself a little shake to rid myself of it. I can’t let one tragedy sway me, how many tragedies has he himself caused? 

My chest aches, I rub absently at it like that might relieve the tension. He is the enemy. I have to keep telling myself that, over and over, until it’s ingrained into my very thought process. One loss cannot compare to what he has put us through. I have to think about all the lives I will save instead of the one he has lost. 

It takes so much time for me to convince myself that I am capable of doing this that I genuinely miss everyone’s else’s pledge to Rhysand. By the time I am settled and ready to raise my head again, it’s just me and him, and a river of spilled blood between us. A fitting meeting ground I suppose. 

Mor gives my arm one last squeeze before she slips into Cassian’s arms and I swear the whole world centers in to just me and the massive Illyrian before me. He looks even more a dark prince up close.

“Hello, mate,” he purrs.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Don’t throw up here, don’t throw up in front of all these people.

Rhysand leans in close enough for me to smell the citrus and jasmine scent of him, the heady fragrance invading all my senses like it's trying to carve itself into veins. I’ve never been more aware of his size compared to mine. “Kneel,” his voice is a lover's caress, made for the gentle darkness of the bedroom. “Take my mark, so that you’ll have our full protection, and then you and I can have some fun.”

Those violet eyes flick to my bruised throat, his fangs biting into his lower lip as he admires his work and heat rushes through me. I want to play, just as readily as I had last night, maybe more. 

I tear my gaze away first. There’s no going back from this. 

My heartbeat is a clanging gong in my ears, breath a heavy rasp that tears from my throat as I lower myself onto my knees. The rough stones bite into my exposed flesh; the blood now cold against my skin. 

Rhysand reaches out to touch my cheek, thumb stroking over my skin as he nods encouragingly. His touch makes me think of last night, and what I had done in the aftermath of having those hands on me. I’d managed to not think about it until now, but now that the thought is here, I can’t stop it anymore than I could last night. Heat licks its way up my spine. 

He is the enemy. I am not supposed to feel like this while on my knees, I am supposed to hate him. I really need to pull it together.

“I-” Am I even capable of separating myself from what I want and need to do here? I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want his hands on my body. It’s not supposed to be like this!

“I swear fealty to you, My Lord.” Am I supposed to say something flowery? Make some grand gesture? I never really paid that much attention during these things, I’d spent most of my time trying to figure out how to get out of them, not into one.

The words are barely out of my mouth before I feel a tingling sensation shoot its way up my arm, from fingertips to shoulder. It’s not painful, feels like my arm fell asleep and lost feeling, even though I still have all my motor functions. When I glance down at the source of the discomfort, a band of ink colored darkness spreads across my skin. It moves in swirling patterns across my bicep, twisting and twining until the familiar pattern of triple stars makes itself clear among the ink. We brand people with an iron in the Grasslands, this magic tattoo is a new sight for me.

Rhysand takes my hand and helps me to my feet before I can even think about reaching out a hand to feel the new piece of me. I don’t even have time to feel guilty about it either, not when he’s crashing his lips against mine, the hunger he feels palpable as his hand slides into my hair. 

The crowd whoops and hollers, reminding me that they’re even there. I’d truly forgotten about them up until now. 

His other hand still strokes my face as he pulls away just enough to say, “I swear, no harm will come to you under our watch.” 

Lofty promises I’m sure, but with the crowd pressing in, now that the spectacle is over, there is not much time to dwell on it either. The next couple of minutes pass in a blur as we all shift from the amphitheater to a mess tent full of benches and long tables full of food and drink.

Rhysand hasn’t let go of my hand, not even at Mor’s insistence that she should get to show me around. The mark might as well be a rope tied around our wrists, dragging me along beside him as he greets various soldiers and sentries. 

The heat of the room soon makes me forget I was ever cold in the first place, a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin the longer we linger. 

In the back center of the tent is the seat of honor, it alone has a single table, everyone else crowds into each other, clambering for seats with no real order. The fighting men mingle with the elders and children and maids alike; the armored sentries dumping their helmets on the tables, the horse hair plumes drifting over the worn wood, holding spots next to the seats of scantily dressed dancers. 

As everyone finds their seats, serving girls start bringing in the food and drink, until all the tables are full of dozens of dishes I can’t name. My stomach rumbles as Rhysand leads me along, an arm looped around my waist like he thinks I might slip away at any moment. He hasn’t stopped touching me since his mark wrote its way across my right arm; a good thing for my plan, I suppose, but I my mind won’t stop narrowing in on the way his fingers dance over my hip bone or the strength of his arms around me. To some degree, I feel small next to him, but not in a way I can convince myself I hate. Not in the way I had felt small back home. 

It’s not long before Rhysand claims this would-be throne and before I can ask where I should disappear to, the warlord is gripping me by the hips and pulling me into his lap! My brain short circuits, all rational thought flying out the window.

He slots one powerful thigh between my, very exposed, legs the scrape of his leathers against my bare skin enough to make my whole body shiver. He’s all sleek muscle, body chiseled from riding and fighting and it is not as if I hadn’t noticed--especially after last night--but I’d never been so aware of him before.

His breath is warm over the shell of my ear as he leans in to whisper, “Now we can play, Darling.”

Here?! Cauldron he’s really going to be the death of me! And rationally I know the more people see us together, the easier it will be for me to maneuver and get information, but it is very hard to think rationally when I can feel so many eyes watching my every move.

Rhysand brushes his nose over the juncture of my neck and shoulder, the soft waves of his dark hair a contrast to the harsh flash of teeth he brushes against my skin a moment later. My heart thunders in my chest, heat rushing to my cheeks. I’ve lost sight of Mor and Cassian, though I doubt they’d be stupid enough to interrupt, let alone save me.

Rhysand sucks a new mark into my neck as he trails a hand up my exposed thigh and the notion that I need to be saved leaves me. This is what I had hoped would happen last night--what I had tried so hard to pretend I didn’t want. The crowd starts to blur in my vision, the only people here are the two of us as he gets closer and closer to the apex of my thighs.  

He is the enemy. Yet, my head falls back on his shoulder as both his lips and his hands trail higher. Every move is warm and calculating and my body is so eager to surrender. I tell myself this is part of the plan, part of the game, but my body doesn’t care about any of that. It just wants more of him.

His hand stills at the pathetic excuse of a covering the skirt offers, thumb stroking against the inside of my thigh. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says softly in my ear. “I’ll make it up to you.”

I think I might actually be so pathetic that I’d beg for it, body squirming under his grip in search of more friction. I’ve never been more acutely aware of the ache between my legs. More so when I find myself grinding my hips down, unabashedly, against his thigh in front of all these people, the scrape of his leathers a heady friction that makes me bite down on my lower lip. 

He chuckles in my ear at my neediness, the sound so rich and deep it only further ignites the heat in my lower belly. If he is supposed to be the enemy, why is his whole body made for such pleasurable sin? There isn’t an inch of him that couldn’t be used to turn me on.

“It’s… it’s ok,” what even are words? “This was important.”

He hums as if thinking, fingers still stroking idle patterns into the tender flesh of my thigh. He’s so close to where I want him. 

“Thank you for being understanding,” he says softly. He sounds about as fragile as he had looked last night and that pang in my chest is back. “I can’t… I can’t risk it, not again, not with you. My mark will guarantee your protection, even if I am not physically here. You’re safe, and you’ll stay that way.”

I slowly raise my hand back, until I can thread my fingers through his hair and he leans his whole head into my touch. “No one’s ever really looked out for me before,” I whisper. Not a lie and not part of this game, but something that slips right out of me before I can trap it behind my teeth. 

“Never again,” he vows.

Perhaps if there wasn’t so much blood between us, I could believe him. 

I can’t take the words back, and I hate that we constantly end up more vulnerable than I thought we could be, I need to get this back on track. The less vulnerable I can keep things between us, the better. All I need to do is keep his focus on what we’d been doing. The more he’s thinking about my body, the less he’s looking at what I’m doing--and the less guilty I will feel. 

 I grind my hips back against him, trying to regain control of the situation, the obvious proof of his own arousal pressing into my ass. 

He hisses, even as he nips at the underside of my jaw. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You did say you’d make it up to me,” I tease in return, scraping my nails playfully along his scalp. 

“I did,” he muses. “Though I was thinking about doing it after we eat.”

“Liar,” I retort. 

His hand finally, blissfully, snakes higher, dipping beneath my skirts. “See, I was planning on making it up to you with my tongue-”

All thought eddies from my mind as his fingers stroke over my core, heat licking its way up my spine. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from making a sound.

“But if my hand is what you’d prefer, I’ll happily give it to you.” He slides a finger into the budding wetness between my legs, testing to see how much I can take. “That’s what you were thinking about last night, right?”

I freeze and he chuckles in my ear as he says, “It was rather distracting, having your side of the bond open, right as Azriel was going to work on our captives.”

He’d heard me?!

Shit shit shit! How much did he know?

“H-how did you…?” My hips buck instinctively as he curls a finger inside me, hitting a spot I didn’t know was so sensitive. 

“Think of the bond like a bridge,” he explains it so clinically, as if he isn’t currently adding a second finger inside me. “With a door on each end. Last night, you opened your door and let me walk right in.”

“How…” I roll my hips to match his pace, desperate for the friction, even as my eyes squeeze themselves shut from the embarrassment of this conversation. “How much did you hear?”

“Heard and saw,” he corrects, teeth scraping along the underside of my jaw. 

I wish the floor would open up and swallow me!

“Just the last bit, I think,” he continues, picking up his pace as my body clenches around his fingers. “When you called out for me. Want to tell me what you were imagining I was doing?”

Thank the Mother he hadn’t walked in when I was thinking about how much I hated him! I’d be dead otherwise, mark or not, and this wasn’t the position I wanted to be in if that was going to happen.

“This,” I whimper, turning my head to brush my lips along his throat. As long as he thinks it was nothing other than my general horniness, I’m safe, embarrassment aside. 

His fingers plunge deeper, wetness dripping down my thighs; I have to be leaving a mess on his pants at this point. “Hmmm, not very creative,” he tuts. “You could have had any part of me you wanted, and all you could think about was my hands?”

Considering the way my thighs start to shake, breath catching in my throat as he hits a spot inside me that has stars swimming across my vision, I’m pretty sure his hands are far beyond the limits of my imagination. No dream had ever felt this good. I intend to defend myself, or at the very least tease him in return, but the only thing that makes it past my lips is his name, soft and pleading as a prayer as my hips chase the motion of his fingers. My whole body is on fire. No part of my imagination would have ever been able to create this.

From somewhere inside the tent, music has started playing and some of those dancers I’d spotted on the way in start the entertainment portion of the afternoon, which I’m sure is a fantastic display, given the approving sounds of the crowd, but I can’t even pay attention to it. I’m barely aware that it’s there as I press my forehead into Rhysand’s shoulder and whimper, body tight as a bowstring.

“Just like that,” he whispers in my ear, chin dropping to rest on my shoulder so he can watch the way my hips rock against his hand. “Doing so well for me, Darling.”

“Please,” I beg. Gods I’m begging Rhysand. Did that even matter at this point? I’d already gotten on my knees for him, already taken his mark, what was a little begging in retrospect?

He places a tender kiss beneath my ear. “Beg a little more.”

Color heats my cheeks. “Please?” I tilt my face up enough to brush my lips over his warm skin again, my hips doing most of the work now as he slows his pace. I could honestly cry from the sudden lack of stimulation. 

“Little more.”

What could he possibly want me to say here?

Something flares in my chest as my brain spins, the same tugging feeling I’ve felt the last couple of days when I think about him. Is that the bridge he spoke of? Is that really him on the other side and not some bullshit? I mean, he did know what I’d done last night… So maybe this is real, maybe we really are…

It clicks and I drag my own teeth over his throat, leaving a little mark. This is how I keep up this ruse, right? “Please, mate.”

Shadows swirl up my thighs, caressing all the sensitive spots his hands are too occupied to touch. That little tether in my chest warms as he once again picks up the pace. His own hips rock forward, erection hot and heavy against my ass as he leaves another bite mark where my shoulder meets my neck. I’d said exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice so low and husky it pushes me right over the edge.

Stars swirl across my vision, body going limp in his grasp as I finally hurtle over the edge. I’ve never cum so hard in my life! It’s only by biting down on my lower lip that I don’t let out a scream.

He holds me gently as I come down, shadows now stroking in soothing patterns over my skin as I catch my breath. 

“Fuck,” I whisper. 

He kisses my cheek as he removes his hand from between my legs. One of his shadows brings a cup of ale over for me to drink.  “Let’s get you some food, hm?”

It is still hard for me to wrap my head around that this male is the one that so easily slaughtered my people--the male that just took two heads off in the amphitheater. There is such a contrast to him it makes my head spin. It is even stranger to me that he is still very obviously aroused and not doing anything about it. He’s very content to let me just sit here in his lap after giving me the best orgasm of my life with nothing in return?

“What about you?” 

Rhysand places another kiss beneath my ear. “We have all day, Darling.”

That thing in my chest warms at the thought. At least there are some perks to seducing the enemy, right? 

------

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[ashtheketchum]

●Miss you●

Daryl Dixon X fem.Reader

Era: Farm (S2)

Summary: The group rests at Hershel's farm and Daryl searches for Sophia all day. You, his girlfriend, think it's great that he cares so much about the little girl, but you also want a little attention from him.

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, angst, fingering, missionary, soft sex, soft Daryl, unprotected sex

Words: 3k

Masterlist!

____________________________

PoV (Y/N):

Our group is currently living at Hershel's farm until we find Sophia again and Carl is back on his feet. Daryl, my boyfriend, looks for the little girl every day. He leaves early in the morning and doesn't come back until late in the evening. I'm incredibly happy that he cares so much for Sophia and wants to bring her back to her mother, but sometimes I feel a certain emptiness. I also work all day, but I'm usually so tired that I don't even notice that Daryl comes into our tent and lies down next to me. It makes me sad, but also proud to have such a warm-hearted boyfriend. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he cares a lot about Sophia and Carol and that's exactly what makes me sad.

And today is no different. I'm already lying awake in the tent, Daryl is still sleeping. I can hear his quiet breathing, which is slow and rhythmic. He's snuggled up to me, my back is pressed tightly against his chest. Since we've been together for many years, he's also okay with me being able to see his upper body. Since it's very warm now, in the next few days, we mostly sleep in just our underwear, sometimes I ask him for a flannel. Daryl is wearing his sweatpants, though, in case he hears someone approaching our tent. I sigh quietly, which immediately provokes a reaction from my boyfriend.

He starts kissing my shoulder and caresses my sides. "Mornin'…" He murmured softly against my skin. A smile automatically creeps onto my lips when I hear his tired, deep and rough voice. At the same time, a tingling sensation spreads between my legs. "Morning… How did you sleep?" "Good… wha' abou' ya?" I just nod slightly before turning around in his arms.

His blue eyes sparkle briefly and they look at me full of love. God, I love it when he looks at me like that, no matter what the situation is, he always looks at me like that. Full of love, full of gentleness, like after our first kiss. He has looked at me like that ever since I confessed my love to him and he returned it. "I need ta go now…" His voice pulls me back to the harsh reality and I bite my tongue hard so as not to look at him disappointedly. "Okay… don't you wanna eat something first?" I asked, hoping that we could at least spend the breakfast together. But I should know my boyfriend better by now, because he shakes his head and kisses my forehead gently. "Na… 'll eat later…" Later. So not until the night, when he comes back.

But I don't want to argue with him. So I just nod and kiss him gently. "Okay…" And after I say that, he sits up and stretches briefly. Then he puts on jeans and a sleeveless flannel. His crossbow is always next to us in case he needs it. He quickly grabs it before giving me a kiss and then going out. "Be careful…" But he has already left the tent before I have even finished the sentence. Sighing, I fall back into the tent bed, my gaze directed upwards.

<Time Skip>

All day I've been helping Lori and Carol wash and hang the laundry. I always sigh inwardly when I wash or hang up Daryl's clothes. "Is everything right, dear?" I heard Carol ask. I can hear clear concern in her voice and I flinch. I look at her before putting on a fake smile and nodding. I don't want to tell her that it bothers me that Daryl is looking for Sophia all the time. She is her daughter after all. "I'm good… just tired, Daryl can snore quite loudly." I then lie and laugh. Carol smiles amusedly before nodding and turning back to the laundry.

"Please tell him he doesn't have to do that." The worried mother suddenly says. Confused, I look at her as she quietly continues washing the clothes. "What do you mean?" Carol lets her shoulders sag before smiling sadly at me. "You and Daryl aren't spending time together anymore, it's not healthy for your relationship.." I flinch, caught, before looking at her sadly and shaking my head. "No… We've been together for many years now, we can handle it." I then assure her. It's not even a lie, our relationship is not suffering from the long period of no contact. It was worse back then because Daryl was always arguing with his father, but now we're both used to it.

Carol looks at me uncertainly for a moment before nodding. "You should still spend time together again." She then says and turns back to the laundry. I just stay quiet, what should I say? I don't know. But inside I'm already thinking about the conversation, how I could confront Daryl about it. I was lost in thought all day, I didn't even eat anything. "(Y/N), you should eat something." Lori just admonishes me, with a stern look. I look up at her before looking at my plate, which is still full.

"It's okay… I'll eat later with Daryl." I say and avoid her gaze again. I can still feel him on me, but I continue to ignore her.

<Time Skip>

As the sun sets, I say goodbye to the group and slowly walk towards Daryl and my tent. We set up our tent a little further away, Daryl feels more comfortable that way, so I didn't say anything against it. Incredibly, I feel much more comfortable with Daryl than when I'm in the group without him. So as I slowly walk towards the tent, I look around a bit, hoping to see Daryl, but my hopes are not fulfilled.

In the tent, I drop to my knees and grab one of Daryl's flannels. I slowly take off my clothes until I'm only in my underwear, but I also take off my bra. When I look down, I notice that I haven't shaved in a long time. Uncertainly, I run my fingers over my legs and over my covered pussy. Sighing, I let my shoulders sag, maybe I shouldn't spend much time with Daryl today, I'm not as well-groomed as I was before the apocalypse. "Why ´re ya sighin´ like tha´?" I suddenly heard a tired voice behind me.

Immediately, out of reflex, I press his flannel against my chest to cover my breasts and I turn to Daryl. He looks tired and has some dirt on his face and clothes. It will be fun to clean that up tomorrow. "Hey… sorry, it was just… a hard day, I guess…" I mumble quietly and look down again. Daryl just hums quietly before coming in and closing the tent door. He puts his crossbow back next to our tent bed before taking off his clothes. I just watch him quietly before speaking quietly. "Do you miss me…?" My voice was very quiet, I almost thought he hadn't heard me, but his body twitches. The archer immediately looks at me, his expression confused. "Wha´ do ya mean? Yar here."

Sometimes I could beat myself inside. Daryl isn't stupid, he's very intelligent, but sometimes he's really short-tempered. Sighing quietly, I shake my head and press his fannel closer to my chest. "No, I mean… do you even miss me…? While you're searching for Sophia?" I ask again, but this time much more clearly. Daryl seemed to understand now, but he doesn't look me in the eyes, but at my bare legs. "´f course I do… why shouldn't I?" A voice screamed in my head, forcing me to say something mean. But I don't want to.

"… it doesn't matter… you're tired, you should sleep…" I whisper quietly before I turn around and put on his flannel. But before the fabric can slide completely down my body, I feel his rough hands on my hips. I gasp briefly because of his warm, rough hand. He kneels behind me and kisses my head gently. "Is it 'cause I'm awa' all day?" He then asks me quietly, in a gentle and loving tone. My chest tightens and I feel like I could start to cry. I nod slightly while swallowing hard. "Yeah…"

Daryl stays quiet for a moment, probably now realizing how much it hurts me that he leaves early every day and doesn't come back until late in the evening. "'m sorry…" "Don't apologize…" I don't want him to feel bad. It's not his fault that Sophia is gone and he wasn't forced to look for her. He's doing it because he doesn't want to see Carol so depressed anymore. None of us wants that. "'ll make it up ta ya…" And with these words he gently pulls the flannel back up until he has completely taken it off me.

His hands caress my skin very gently, first my stomach, then my sides and then he reaches my breasts. I immediately inhale sharply as he reaches around and massages them, his fingers twirling my nipples slightly. I close my eyes and lean closer to him so that my bare back presses against his bare, strong chest. Daryl's lips wander over my neck, sometimes gently nibbling or licking my skin.

"Daryl…" "I gotcha…" His voice gives me a pleasant shiver and I straighten my back more and more. As soon as Daryl decides that he has paid enough attention to my breasts, his hands wander back down until he places them flat on my abdomen. Out of reflex I grab his wrist. "Wha'?" "I'm… not shaved…" I murmur quietly and blush heavily.

Daryl hisses quietly before he frees himself from my grip and his fingers go under my panties. "Don' care… ya think I'm shaved?" I stay quiet for a moment before shaking my head. "Righ'… and I don' care if yar shaved or no'…" Daryl's words make my heart beat faster and I nod slightly. I slowly let my hands fall and I gasp quietly as his rough fingers stroke my clit. Breathing heavily, I close my eyes, lean my head against his shoulder and Daryl massages my clit in circular movements. I feel myself getting wetter and wetter and my pussy gets tighter in the hope of getting some kind of friction. "D-daryl…" Before I can say anything else, Daryl pulls his hand out of my panties and gently pushes me to the ground so that I'm lying on my back.

He climbs over me skillfully, his lips decorating my skin with kisses again. He goes further down until he gently bites into the fabric of my panties. I look down at him, his blue eyes meet mine immediately as he pulls my panties down until my pussy is completely free. "So wet…" I hear him growl softly and deeply. Before I can say anything, he presses a loving but intense kiss on my clit. I let myself fall, panting, his skillful tongue now playing with my clit. It's been so long since Daryl and I have been intimate, we never felt it necessary, but now it feels really good. I am incredibly sensitive, every one of his touches makes me whimper or moan.

"Yar so sensitive, baby~" He growls quietly, his hot breath blowing against my entrance. His tongue gently massages my clit, he has placed my thighs on my shoulder. Daryl's rough hands gently stroke my thighs and a cold shiver runs down my back. After just a few seconds, which felt like hours to me, he lets his tongue enter my pussy. I immediately grab his dark blonde hair firmly to press him closer to my throbbing cunt. Growling, Daryl lets me do this, his tongue moving slowly inside me. "I've missed ya~…" These words make me whimper loudly and my heart beat faster. I wouldn't have thought that Daryl would show me that he misses me like this, but I enjoy every second.

"I've missed you too~…" I whisper quietly, my hands wandering to my breasts to massage them. I gently swirl my sensitive nipples, which makes me arch my back. Even though I'm feeling and getting so much from Daryl, it's still not enough. I want his cock inside me. "Daryl~…! Please~…" The archer seems to understand my pleading words, because the next moment he pulls his tongue out of me. He kisses my clit briefly again before crawling back up to me, his lips kissing every inch of my skin. He stops briefly at my breasts to kiss both nipples again. "Ya wan' it this badly~?" His question just makes me nod quickly and Daryl grin slightly.

He quickly pulls down his boxer shorts and his erect cock immediately jumps against his abdomen. As he had already said, he is not shaved. But his pubic hair has never bothered me, nor has the hair on his chest. It has a certain appeal to him, which makes my insides tingle with excitement. "Ya see~? Not shaved~…" He gently takes my hand and he lies down on his chest. I can feel his light hair on my fingertips and I can feel his rapid heartbeat under my entire hand. My cheeks blush slightly as I let my hand wander further down to his belly button. Under his belly button where he also has hair. Swallowing hard, I look up at him before nodding and lying down again. I spread my legs wide pleadingly, I can feel my arousal on my inner thighs.

Daryl stares at my pussy for a while, his hand pumping up and down his shaft. His intense blue eyes are staring an another hole between my legs and goosebumps are spreading across my skin. "Please Daryl~… make love to me~" And I don't have to tell him twice. Without hesitation, he bends down so that he is lying on top of me. He supports himself with one arm next to my head while his other hand positions him at my entrance. "Ya ready, baby~?" Daryl asks me, his eyes looking deep into mine. I immediately wrap my arms around his neck and nod quickly. "Yes~…! Please~…" After saying this, Daryl slowly pressed his pelvis against mine so that his tip is now penetrating me. Immediately I grab his hair tightly, my eyes widen and I suppress my voice as best I can. I wrap my legs tightly around Daryl's waist to prevent him from escaping. Even though he probably didn't plan it anyway. "Oh fuck~… yar so tigh~…" "Daryl~…! God, I've missed that~…!"

Daryl has pressed his face into my shoulder, his rapid breathing hits my skin as he presses his pelvis ever closer to mine. Now he supports himself with both arms, which he has placed next to my head. When our skin touches, we both breathe out loudly. The feeling of being stretched out, of being filled, feels so good. I never thought I would miss sex so much. But now I have that feeling again. Daryl is deep inside me and I lightly dig my fingers into his shoulders. Since we haven't had sex in a long time, I have to be very tight now and Daryl confirms my thoughts. He breathes fast and heavily, like a bull. But it's not strenuous breathing, it's pleasurable breathing, as if he missed it as much as I did.

Daryl slowly raises his head so that we look deep into each other's eyes and at the same moment he pulls his hips back to thrust into me again. He repeats this process over and over again, our eye contact never breaking for a second. His hips keep thrusting against mine. His thrusts are intense and hot, but also full of love and affection. Sometimes he moves a little faster, but not fast enough to make me scream. "Daryl~…" I moan his name over and over again. Even though he moves so slowly, this sex feels so good. He doesn't fuck me like before, no, he makes love to me. Real love. Of course I felt love in the sex before, but our lust always came first. Now Daryl wants to make me feel all of his love and affection and fuck it feels good.

My legs are wrapped tightly around his hips, my heels press lightly against his ass. Daryl's movements become a little faster and he puts his forehead against mine. That makes me close my eyes and concentrate more on the fullness. "So good~…" I moan softly against his lips. Daryl just growls softly before covering my neck with kisses. He sucks on my skin a few times, creating light marks that will last until tomorrow. "I love this tigh´ pussy~…" These words make my pussy flutter and it contracts more tightly around his shaft. My insides suck greedily on his cock, as if my body never wants to let him go again. "Baby~… I'm gonna cum~…" Daryl warns me, his voice sounds much deeper. A pressure is building up inside me too and I know that I will soon reach my long-awaited orgasm too. “Me too~… cum inside me, please~…!” “Ya sure~?” I can sense a certain uncertainty in his voice, but I nod immediately.

I look pleadingly into his eyes. "Yes~…! Please, cum inside me~…" Daryl nods just slightly before pressing his lips firmly against mine. We moan loudly against each other's lips as we both reach to our orgasm. Daryl presses his hips firmly against mine as his sperm flows into me and I arch my back strongly as my insides contract even more around Daryl. Breathing heavily, we hold each other tight until we have recovered from our orgasms. Daryl slowly lifts his head to gently kiss my lips. "I love ya…" "I love you too… we should get some sleep…" Daryl nods just slightly before pulling out of me and taking one of his flannels. He puts it under me so that our juices flow onto it and I sigh quietly inside because I can wash it out later. But what wouldn't you do for a passionate night with your boyfriend?

[littledeathdove]

Obsessed Mother Miranda…obsessed over you. This has clogged my brain so I must cleanse it by ranting about it.

This whole situation is a ride that no one signs up for willingly — that’s a lie, I know many who would bark to sign up — but why wouldn’t anyone want this situation?

Because Miranda is someone who loves her whole flesh, bones, brain, and soul. I mean look at how she is with Eva and that will tell you your answer. When she wants you, she is going to get you no matter how long it takes or what it takes.

And if she has to take away things she deems as distractions from her claiming your whole being as hers, she will. Even if it means the people you love.

Enough of that though, let’s talk about what happens after you got your ass in this. First off you will start to notice some differences around the village. The crows that are seen as a symbol of protection in the village — that and also goats — are now acting odd…as in they are fucking watching you. Now you would think, hey maybe am just overthinking this. The crows watch everyone and listen to everything, and you aren’t any more special than the other villagers to be stalked by these crows. Or are you?

Another thing about the crows, they are now starting to follow you. There’s no overacting to this because you can see them in the corner of your eye, hopping from roof to roof, following you. Not anyone else, because you’re the only one currently walking down this path. While the seeing crows watching people from above are a common thing and in fact are seen as an indirect sign of Mother Miranda’s presence and protection. It’s not common at all to be followed by these crows. Or at least no one else has talked about such experiences before.

So why is it happening to you? You can’t express any concern you have since everyone in the village will think you are just lucky. So now you not only have to worry about these crows watching and likely listening to you, but you also have to worry about them following you. And you swear you see one outside of your window one night. Looking directly in the direction of your bed, you swear it is watching you sleep. You don’t know if it knows you see it and are surely now awake, but after you move a little too much, the crow flies off.

The only time you get a break from this is when you are in a building with not that many windows, or when you are attending Mother Miraqnda’s services. Speaking about the services, they are even starting to feel an…uncomfortable feeling of being watched. You don’t know why, especially since when you look around it seems that everyone is watching and looking at Mother Miranda. You don’t notice it yet though, but the same woman who has everyone’s attention is giving all of her attention — mostly just a majority of it — to you.

You don’t know that the same woman that you have been taught and trained to believe in, has been stalking you, observing you, and planning. What is she planning? No idea, likely if you will make a good vessel for her daughter. I mean why else would someone like you be giving this certain feeling in her chest, why you become a part of her thoughts if you aren’t the perfect vessel?

But with that same unknown feeling burning up in Miranda’s chest, comes another feeling every time she thinks about kidnapping you when she has the perfect opportunity — and this feeling isn’t so unknown. She knows this feeling, oh yes, it’s a feeling of guilt the same feeling she feels when she thinks of her daughter’s death. Miranda doesn’t understand this, she doesn’t understand you.

This makes it even worse for you, because now Miranda is even more curious, she needs to understand why you caught her attention out of all the villagers, why she feels this disgusting and horrible feeling of guilt when she tries to give you the same fate many villagers had before you. She needs to fully understand all of this for then she can go back to her normal.

After getting ready and dressed up for the weekly service Mother Miranda is holding today, and after dealing with the crows watching you and following you from your home to the church, you finally make it inside the church and the service starts. It didn’t take long for that uncomfortable feeling of being stared at to appear again, but this time you were determined to see who had been watching you throughout these services. You turn your eyes in all directions, looking around while trying to not bring attention to what you are doing. Finally, you catch the eyes that have been burning holes in your body during this service.

You would have never suspected it to be the cold, lightless eyes of Mother Miranda.

Making eye contact with her sent a shiver down your spine like her blue eyes were ice sickles that were aiming to give you frostbite. And the fact she takes at least a good few seconds to look away makes you almost piss yourself. While you are scared out of your mind shitless, Miranda is internally smirking at how you seemed so scared of her gaze on you. Amusing.

You knew deep down in your gut that her looking at you for that long, even if it was a few minutes, didn’t mean anything good. Even if it should…

Those are just a few things that happen as Miranda is slowly becoming obsessed with you. Now I wish to talk about how her personality traits clash with the obsession she has with you. You can find the personality trait analysis/rant I did on Mother Miranda in this post. Anyway on to it!

Mother Miranda is manipulative, she likely changes certain aspects of herself…

Let me go ahead and just say this. You’re not getting away from Miranda’s manipulative behavior, never in a million years will you be able to. Miranda’s manipulation is what leads you to believe that any of Miranda’s concerning or bad actions towards you are completely fine and you are just overthinking.

Miranda isn’t the best person, and she knows this. And she knows that her bad actions could cause you to start leaning away from her, and she can’t have that now. So she will sweet talk you into believing that her doing things like being aggressive towards you at times and stalking you (even when she is out of her crow) is fine. All just so she can keep you to herself.

Miranda is definitely the type of manipulator to give you attention and then suddenly take it away when you do something she deems wrong. Why? Because she needs to train you dear. She has high expectations out of you because she sees you as a lover — a high status if I must tell — so she does this to get you back straight and give you a reminder why you should obey her and act right. You won’t see her crows watching or following you. She won’t talk to you like at all nor will she look at you. She is the perfect player when it comes to giving people silent treatment so trust you’re going to feel affected by this sudden change.

This is perfect for Miranda because that means her small plan is working. When she finally decides to give you attention again, you will soak it up, fight tooth and nail, and be so obedient just to keep her attention. Just like how she wants you to be when it comes to her, and only her alone.

Miranda also loves to remind you of how she is the one protecting you, and how special the privilege is because you have the luck to be protected by such a person like herself. This is another manipulation tactic that she uses to make it seem like you have a debt towards her and because of it, you are obligated to be fine with how she treats and acts towards you. And to also keep you acting right because she could take that protection away and leave you to the wolves. (Not like she would though, she is too infuriated with you to do such a thing)

Mother Miranda is selfish, she doesn’t care about the people in the village…

Miranda’s selfishness is what causes you to slowly lose friendships, relationships with family, and even normal socialization with other villagers. Miranda doesn’t like the idea of you being too close to anyone else, why though? Miranda doesn’t believe others should have what belongs to her, and like I said before she will remove the things she deems as distractions from you giving all your attention to her.

She doesn’t believe others deserve the same rights of getting your attention, love, or energy. No, she doesn’t think of your feelings about doing this. No, she doesn’t think about the feelings of the people she is slowly removing from your life. They don’t matter, her wants and dreams do, and she wants you all to herself like a child wants a local toy for themselves alone.

Miranda will also have you doing things that you don’t want to do simply because of how selfish she is. For example: Miranda will likely have you learn about human anatomy and how to do small surgeries on bodies because she wants you to for then she has an extra hands on deck for speeding up experiments. Be creeped out all you want, whine and complain about it, and tell her you wish to stop it doesn’t matter since she wants you to be doing this. So you are going to honey.

Mother Miranda is a perfectionist, she doesn’t settle for anything less….

Miranda's perfectionist trait is what causes you to keep your physical appearance looking good. And that is also what has you gaining more confidence about your looks. Ok listen, Miranda doesn’t hate anything about your body. She is just too obsessed with you to hate anything about you, and that is why she thinks you are perfect. That is also her excuse on why she is obsessed with you (she doesn’t call it obsession though). Something so perfect has to be made specifically for her. There’s the perfectionist in her talking.

With that said, what I mean by her being a perfectionist about your looks is that she fixes up your appearance so then you can continue to look perfect. Like she smooths out your clothes when she notices wrinkles, she fixes your hair if it’s out of place, small things like that. These small things she does have you gaining the habit of looking for these small things and fixing them before she can.

Miranda also has high expectations for you as a lover because of how much of a perfectionist she is. For example, for you to listen to her and obey what she tells you to do, and finish up the chores she gave you around the house, etc

You and Miranda do get into arguments once in a while due to her getting upset when you don’t reach her standards all of the time. Again because of the perfectionist behavior.

Mother Miranda is sadistic, I believe that woman like seeing people in pain.…

You are a part of those people. The face Miranda makes when she sees you scrunching your face up in pain and whimpering from the feeling — is just downright off-putting.

The love of seeing you in pain only intensifies because she is obsessed/in love with you. So hopefully you can take on a great amount of pain because you’re going to be feeling it way more often now.

Here is the deal breaker though, Miranda is the only one who can inflict pain upon you. Anyone else does it, they will be having their head rolling in seconds after she finds out. It doesn’t matter if it is a villager, a lord, or a damned animal. If they hurt you then they are better off dead.

Mother Miranda is a nerd, sharp turn there, but it’s true…

If Miranda allows you in her lab and allows you to partake in the experiments of the mold, you will soon see a side of Miranda that you never thought existed. A side of her that talks almost nonstop, and if you look more closely you will notice she has a small bit of childish excitement laced in her expressions. This only happens when she is talking about the mold and the success she has experienced in her experiments.

Another thing, you are going to have to lead the conversation for at least three minutes before she takes it over, and it’s also going to have to be about the mold or something scientific.

Though you are likely the only one able to get her to start talking about things first, and have it be not about mold shit.

Miranda will also likely learn a lot about you and become somewhat of a nerd when it comes to you. She could tell someone almost anything they would like to know about you — not like she would though — that’s how bad it is.

She will probably slip up sometimes and tell you something even you don’t know about yourself.

Mother Miranda is unpredictable, you can’t have a set idea of how you believe Miranda operates…

Miranda’s unpredictability is the “fun” part of this whole situation and is what makes it harder to believe if she loves you or not.

One day Miranda is doing what you expect from a lover. Acting sweet towards you, being more touchy than usual, and telling you how you are hers. Then the next day comes and she is acting the exact opposite. She is still possessive but she is more isolated in her feelings, barely giving you attention, brushing you off, and telling you to leave her be.

It’s so confusing but it’s simply how Miranda operates because she just lives behind masks. It’s not that her feelings for you are a mask or a front, but it’s more like they are making Miranda get too comfortable and distracted from her life mission. So she will put on a mask of not wanting you so then she can avoid those feelings she believes to be pulling her away from what she needs to do.

The funny thing is that even on those opposite days, Miranda will still call you her’s. Just this time it seems like she is saying you belong to her just as the other villagers belong to her. Not in the romantic way you are used to.

Another thing about Miranda’s unpredictability is that it can determine how your day goes. If she — for some reason — decides to act more distant that day, that means your day is likely to be fucked up. You are going to be stuck doing chores, wondering why Miranda is acting this way now, and being bored out of your mind because Miranda isn’t allowing you near her.

But if she is in that lovely romantic mood, your day is destined to be good. Miranda will appear behind you randomly and just be touchy for no reason. And then she will go back to her lab like nothing happened. If you have gotten to the point of the relationship where she trusts you in her lab, then you are to not leave her side after you are done with chores. Miranda will also give you more attention that day and be more talkative towards you.

Unfortunately, you can’t expect what you are going to get until you get it because Miranda is good at hiding feelings when she wants to. So until you do something to get a reaction out of her, you won’t know what type of day you’re going to have. All due to her unpredictability.

Mother Miranda is bat-shit insane, there is no denying it because it’s just one of her main personality traits…

This woman will do the craziest shit to have you. Am not joking. She would go as far as transforming into a little kid and bragging about herself in front of you to just get you to be more impressed by her true self.

I could imagine her disguised as a child skipping away after she is satisfied and convinced that you see her in a much better light now after she just praised on and on about how good Mother Miranda is.

Like you would think this woman has limits, but when she is obsessed with you to the point it’s right there with how much she obsesses over Eva, there are no limits she won’t cross.

I could imagine her coming to you as she would to any other villager before she kidnaps you to be her lover. Telling you how you are special and giving you a gift because of it. Telling you to set it in a specific spot in your room since this gift has as much special value as you do. This gift is likely to allow her to watch you even better now when she can’t have her eyes on you. (She got tired of the messy views she sees of you from the windows of your bedrooms when she is in crow from.)

This woman has no bounds, so think of the craziest shit you think someone obsessed with someone else would do, and likely Miranda has or will do it.

Hm, yeah I think that is enough ranting for now. I was going to rant way more but I don’t want to get off track from the original topic. Which I was close to doing multiple times. Anyway, this is just another long rant that I didn’t mean to make this long in the first place. I don’t understand how in the world I can write so much so easily when ranting but not when writing fanfics 😔. It’s actually so confusing.

Hmm, I wonder what I should rant about next 🧐

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Brand New One Shot - First Preview

It’s time for a new one shot! I promise I will finish “Dress Up” in the very near future but I wanted to get a jumpstart on this! No active warnings for this preview, but there is a very very subtle hint to something naughty if you squint lol

You remember first meeting the King of Hell on the day you checked yourself into the Hazbin Hotel. And you remember thinking that Lucifer looked nothing like you had pictured. Of course he was beautiful, that wasn’t shocking, but he was so…unimposing. Not only that, he was kind, albeit a bit dorky as well. Not that it was off putting to you, it was endearing if anything!

Although, you hadn’t spoken to him all that much since the time you’d moved in. Lucifer seemed so nonchalant and relaxed with everyone else in the hotel, save for Alastor, who you noticed always managed to get under the fallen angel’s skin one way or another. Even you knew the radio demon was playing with fire; probably wasn’t the smartest idea to piss off the most powerful being in Hell. Regardless, how he acted around you was a little odd to say the least. It seemed like Lucifer was always trying to avoid you for some unknown reason. Did he not like you?

When you had first spoken to him all those month ago, you could tell he was tense. He rambled, a lot. And he somehow managed to fumble every other word that left his mouth. He quickly left after your initial meet, and ever since then it was nearly impossible to get in more than five words at a time. He had an impossibly perfect disappearing act, what with his portaging abilities. One time you greeted him from across the lobby and his only response was “O-Oh! H-Hey you! Uhh, I just, umm…welp, gotta run!” and took off before you could even say goodbye. Truly bizarre.

You eventually went to Charlie, telling her that her dad was seemingly very distant towards you. “Oh, don’t worry about that!” Charlie explained. “He’s a pretty busy guy, so he’s usually popping in and out of here pretty frequently. And he’s told me on multiple occasions that he’s glad you joined the hotel! He can come off as a bit scatterbrained, but rest assured he’s more than happy to have you here! And so am I!”

You smiled and thanked her. From the few months that you’ve known her, Charlie was never one to lie, so you decided to take her words at face value. For now, at least. For some reason, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up with Lucifer. You needed to find out.

A few nights had passed and you found yourself wandering through the lobby. It was late, way later than you should be awake. Even Husk was asleep, the bar sat devoid of any life. It was difficult to sleep most night, you were still grappling with the fact that you were, in fact, in Hell. You thought you were a decent person in life. Never religious but you tried your best to while you were alive. But that didn’t seem to matter. Perhaps you should have attended church with your family more often, or donated to more charities, or not cut that one person off at that traffic light. Laying awake in your bed wasn’t helping these thoughts, but getting up and walking around usually helped just a tad.

You glanced over to the fire place, noticing the flames dancing against the walls. That was strange, considering no one ever used the fire place, or at least not that you’ve seen. But then you noticed one of the large chairs in front of it wasn’t empty. A white sleeve laid across the arm rest. You walked over out of pure curiosity, just to see who was awake at this ungodly hour like you. You craned your neck to see Lucifer sitting there frozen, his head down and eyes closed with his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked troubled. Before you could speak up, you heard him mumble under his breath.

“What the hell am I going to do…”

Worried, you outstretched your hand, but stopped short of touching his arm. “Sir?”

Lucifer’s eyes shot open instantly, turning his head to see you towering over him. He leapt from his chair completely startled and began stumbling backwards towards the fire pit.

“Watch out!” you warned, gripping his hand and pulling him towards you. Lucifer held his breath, trying to process what just happened. His head ended up flush against your chest, your face now feeling as hot as the flames in the pit. You let go of his hand and stepped away from him as fast as you could. Lucifer remained motionless. “I-I’m so sorry, your majesty! I didn’t mean for you to…I’m sorry!”

You finally heard Lucifer exhale. He stood up straight and fixed his wrinkled jacket, making every effort to not look you in the eyes.

“It’s alright, m-my dear,” he spoke softly, “no harm done. A-And please, call me Lucifer.”

“Okay. Lucifer,” you started, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you over here and I heard what you said and…is everything alright?”

Lucifer was tense again. You noticed him clench his fists. “How much did you hear?”

“Not much,” you admitted. “you just sounded worried about something.”

The king let out a sigh, letting his hands relax. “Thank you for your concern, I-I appreciate it. It’s nothing…nothing that you need to trouble yourself with. It’ll be fine.” Lucifer waved his hand, a portal now swirling open behind him, leading to his bedroom. “I think we should both get some sleep now. And t-thank you for catching me. Although, fire can’t harm me…b-but I appreciate the rescue nonetheless!” He was about to step through the portal when you caught his hand once more.

“Wait,” you said quietly. Lucifer looked down at the ground, still refusing to meet your gaze. You frowned. “Sir-I mean Lucifer…I wanted to ask you something. I need to know.” You felt his hand squeeze yours; he was tense again. “I-I’ve been feeling like I’m not welcome here by you.” Lucifer finally lifted his head, his eyes almost piercing your soul. He looked distraught at your words. You never noticed how beautiful his eyes truly were, the soft yellow complimented his pure white skin nicely. You blushed slightly, but shook your head and tried to remember what you were saying. “I-I just mean, you seem to avoid me every time I’m near. If I’ve done something to upset you, I’m very sorry. And if you’d rather I’d not stay here, then…”

“NO!” he shouted, now gripping your hand with both of his. “I-I mean, no. You haven’t done anything wrong! Please…Please don’t leave. I should be the one apologizing if that’s truly how you’ve been feeling. I never want you to feel unwelcome here, especially not from me. It…It’s just that…I…” Before he could finish his explanation, his eyes dropped for just a split second before returning to yours. His gaze had somehow shifted into a more panicked expression. He let go of your hands immediately and stepped through his portal in a hurry. “I-I have to go, I’m sorry!” You couldn’t get another word out before his portal disappeared from view.

You stood alone in the parlor, alone and confused. The fire had died out, and you felt a shiver down your spine at the realization of how cold it had gotten without it. But you couldn’t let the conversation end there. You needed to know what was going on with him. You wouldn’t sleep until you did. Luckily, Lucifer’s room at the hotel was very easy to find.

[etherealyoungk]

comfort and love - hoshi

pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

warnings: reader has their period, fluff

word count: 1.1k

when you wake up feeling icky and your stomach lightly paining, you internally groan because you know your period started. you change and go back to sleep, only to wake up a few hours later to your doorbell ringing and you wake up sleepy and dazed. when you open the door to a smiling hoshi. your heart sinks because you forget to tell him you couldn't make it to the date he had planned. and here he was at your doorstep.

"shit, hoshi im sorry", you mumble out as you make way for him to enter. he looks at you confused. "why are you saying sorry baby", he asks and then he realizes you're still in your pyjamas and you look tired. "i got my period so i don't think out date can still happen", you tell softly. his gaze softens with understanding. "that's okay. i can still be here and spend time with you. i'll take care of you", he says with a newfound passion and before you know it, he's guiding you back to the bedroom and making you lie down.

periods are a little bit of uncharted territory for hoshi, but it's nothing a little research can't fix. so after quickly searching for what to do when someone is on their period he's coming to your room but you're curled up in a ball and he's running to your side.

"baby? are you okay?", he asks worried. "i'll make you a hot water bottle wait", he says and he rushes off to the kitchen. a few minutes later he's bringing you the hot water bottle and gently placing it on your stomach. you gladly take it and mumble out a small thank you to hoshi who's sitting on the edge of the bed. "have you eaten?', he says, looking at the time. you shake your head weakly. "not hungry", you tell and he's now even more worried. should he get you some chocolate? icecream? some snacks?. he decides to at least bring you a glass of water for you to sip on.

"you don't have to stay, i can manage", you tell him but he denies, telling you he's gonna take care of you. you try to lie down and rest, but the cramps only get worse. you open your eyes and don't see hoshi in the room. you weakly call out for him and he comes running, skidding across the floor in the process. "what's wrong?", he asks, concern flashing across his face but the tears brimming in your eyes are all the answers he needs. he wastes no time in coming by your side and gently engulfing you in his arms. you lean into his warmth and snuggle into his arms as you rest your head on his chest. he lightly rubs your back in hopes it will somewhat help ease the pain. but the way you were occasionally gripping his shirt told him you were still in pain and he hated in so much. he wished he could take your pain instead.

when you finally fall asleep, he gently tucks you in bed and decides to make a quick run to the convenience store to get you some snacks. you stir awake from your sleep and realize hoshi isn't next to you. you hear noises coming from outside and the smell of something in sweet in the air. you get up and waddle out of the room to the kitchen to find hoshi in front of the stove. "babe?", you call out and he turns around, smiling when he sees you. "you're awake?", he asks and he removes something from the pan and puts it on a plate.

"i made you some french toast, i know you like it so i tried following a recipe", he says in one breath, grinning as he presents the plate to you, guiding you to sit down and take a seat at the dining table. the other half of the table is covered in snacks of all kinds. you look at hoshi. "i thought you might want to snack or eat something sweet? i read up about period cravings but i didn't know what you'd like so i got some of your favorite stuff and things i thought you might like", he explains. you look at him and pout. you could cry right now. '"hoshi", you tell and he thinks maybe he's done something wrong. "what's wrong? did i not bring the right snack? did i forget something?", he asks, a lopsided pout forming on his face. you shake your head.

"you're so sweet, this is all so sweet", you finally tell and the tension disappears from his shoulders. he watches as you eat the french toast he made, happy.

if you told him you were feeling cold, he's drowning you in blankets. hungry? ready to order food or make you something again. thirsty? aksing you if you wanted water or an other drink, the phone in his hand ready to order whatever you wanted. want ice cream? he's ready to buy all the flavors.

but then later when it's afternoon he can tell your mood is a bit off and he's confused. (he's a little clueless about how the mood swings work sjjgg) so when he comes over to cuddle you when you are watching something you move away telling him you don't want to cuddle right now. he's shocked. how could you not want his cuddles? poor boy will be next to you and just be all pouty and glance over at you.

after a while, you feel find yourself scooting closer to hoshi and linking your arm around his as you lean your head on his arm. he's over the moon from this small action and pecks the top of your head, happy.

he'd sit on the counter as you watched him make ramen for you for dinner, even though you said you were feeling a little better now and could do it yourself. he'll order ice cream and watch as you eat, happy to indulge you in whatever you want.

he'll stay over that night, mostly he didn't want to leave you in pain and because you asked him to stay. if the cramps bothered you in the middle of the night, and you woke up in pain, he'd take care of you and do his best to help alleviate the pain. you're grateful he stayed as you slowly fall back asleep in his arms, his presence comforting and warm.

taglist: @idubiluv @icyminghao @kyeomyun @joshuaahong @daisycheols @fallingforshua29

[herefortheships]

About that ending scene + Lydia and Betelgeuse's connection

I've been thinking about BJBJ's ending dream/nightmare scene, and I thought I'd give my two cents as to what the purpose and meaning of this scene could be.

I have only watched the movie once, but that ending sequence stuck with me as one of the most memorable moments in the movie, if only for how disturbing it was (to me).

That said, what I interpret as the purpose of this scene is really simple:

This scene serves to show the audience that Betelgeuse is not only not gone, but that he is indeed psychically connected to Lydia as he mentions early in the film. They have both woken up from the same fucked-up nightmare, thus showing that their connection remains intact.

This is what I think the scene itself means:

The birth of the Beetlebaby was Lydia's rude awakening. She can't simply banish Betelgeuse by saying his name three times anymore, because they are psychically connected (I'll talk more on this below). Sure, he will go away, but not permanently. Never permanently anymore.

Why does the baby come out of Astrid? Because that is the element of horror that turns the dream into the nightmare that shakes Lydia (or both Lydia and Betelgeuse) awake. It doesn't matter if Lydia decides to go and live her life with Astrid, ignoring the events prior, Betelgeuse is not gone.

Betelgeuse is not only still hanging around Lydia, exactly as he was at the beginning of the film, his connection to Lydia runs so deep that they can even share dreams/nightmares now (or he can at least enter or manipulate her dreams, and if they go with this one, then that means the terrifying Beetlebaby birth might have been placed in her dream as a little revenge for banishing him. Does Betelgeuse even sleep? I digress).

I think this is the very thread Tim Burton could use to start preparing Beetlejuice 3. Lydia and Betelgeuse's psychic connection. I do not think this was a throwaway line, or like Betelgeuse deluding himself, thinking that he and Lydia are connected. As I've said, I've only seen the movie once (bummer I was going again this week but something came up), but I'm sure there is enough solid evidence to support this. Beetlejuice is able to project images of himself around Lydia, without being summoned. Lydia is able to see glimpses of him because of this connection. The final dream sequence calls back to that line earlier in the movie and supports it/proves it to be true: they are indeed connected.

Now, here's the thing (and we're entering head-canon territory here), this isn't something he did alone; this can only happen because of Lydia herself.

We now know Astrid inherited Lydia's ability to see ghosts, what if there is more to it? What if they have psychic abilities that go beyond just being able to see the dead? I know the first movie made it seem like Lydia could see the ghosts because she was "strange and unusual", but I feel that this movie established that this is an ability that runs in her blood, as Astrid inherited it from Lydia. What if it's something that runs in her family? The answers could lie with Lydia's mother, who we now know is still alive.

As I said above, Lydia cannot just say Betelgeuse's name three times to get rid of him now; if she truly wants him gone, she is going to have to do something different. She will have to figure out a way how, and that's the story thread that could lead us to her finding her mother in the next movie.

Now, the keyword here is if Lydia wants to get rid of Betelgeuse.

This might be the reason she can't fully get rid of him just saying his name; it might even be the reason they're connected in the first place: She doesn't truly want him gone. It might even be her psychic abilities that are keeping Betelgeuse's presence from leaving her alone.

Take it with a massive grain of salt, obviously, as this is all speculation. But the movie sort of implied that all of Lydia's relationships have failed. Even her relationship with Richard, which seems to have been great. For what little we were given about it, it looked like he was someone she really connected to and loved. But something didn't work out there, despite this. Could it be that whatever connection Betelgeuse feels with Lydia that has led him to single her out as the love of his life, in his own words, Lydia has felt herself about him, albeit subconsciously (and perhaps much to her horror)? Lydia might have been intrigued by him for years, pushing it down due to her fear of seeing him again. She could be simultaneously fascinated and terrified by him. He is a very powerful demon and she wouldn't want to do something to cross him again, especially since their final interaction saw him betrayed from a contract he didn't stray from. She might have been fearful of Betelgeuse being vengeful.

But he wasn't vengeful. In fact, much to her surprise, he'd been longing to see her again for over thirty years.

Lydia now will have to grapple with her conflicted feelings for Betelgeuse and figure them out in the next film, if we're lucky to get it (and I have no doubt we will).

She could say his name three times, banish him away, but then her heart would summon him right back to her, and thus whatever psychic ability she has which also enables her to see the dead pulls him right back into her life and keeps their connection alive. It would be interesting to see if it turns out that it was her own feelings about Betelgeuse that have always kept him around "just out of reach" all this time, giving him a way in and keeping their souls connected. Like she subconsciously has known all this time they are meant to be together (soulmate storyline, if you will ✨).

[coolprettyleo]

obsessed with your ex? - juraj slafkovsky ☆

wc: 650+

tw: toxicity? obsessive. mention of sex. stalking?

juraj slafkovsky x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was four in the morning and you couldn't sleep. your thoughts were running wild as the six foot three man was laying sound asleep next to you. you were staying over his place tonight and what was supposed to be an easy going night turned into a nightmare; for you at least.

you had opened your instagram to find that jurajs ex had followed you, and commented on her recent instagram post, how you slayed the photo dump you posted on your recent trip to Milan.

I mean his ex didn't mean to get in your brain. you had finally met the girl, about a couple weeks ago at a brand dinner seeing as you were both models. you had been professional with her. but since you guys had many mutual friends the ex seemed to be trying to befriend her.

oh my god I wonder if she was friends with jurajs friends? did she know arber like you know him?

was she good in bed?

does he still think about her?

was she easy going?

every controlling?

well traveled?

well read?

all these thoughts made you want to scream into your pillow and die. something you couldn't do because you were at your boy friends house, sleeping in his bed on a side that was now 'your side' but you knew it was once hers.

when you met the ex about two nights ago you had to act like you didn't know every little thing about her, when you did. you knew everything about her, from her star sign to her fucking blood type.

you felt insane. you were honestly borderline of psycho. you were so obsessed with jurajs ex and everything about her was making you so upset.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt the boy next to you move.

"why are you still awake" jury asked seeing her stare up into the ceiling. he moved to wrap his arms around her and pull her in, trying to to comfort his girlfriend.

what were you supposed to say to him? I'm up thinking about your ex? that im fucking obsessed with her? he would think I was her freaking best friend with how much I would want to talk about her and ask him.

and it wasn't like there wasn't anything I could complain about too, anyways. she was an angel, who was perfect. my friends would even tell me she talked so nicely about me. she was the life of every party and had these perfect hips with the most perfect lips. god you sounded like you were in love with her.

he had once told you that she hated flying so she would take melatonin when they would go visit his family with him back home, and you've never forgotten that detail about her.

"y/n" jurajs voice rasped again.

"what did you call me?" y/n exclaimed sitting up moving away from him. she could of swear he said HER name.

"your name?" juraj said slowly, beyond confused. he loved you so much and the last thing he would of thought was wrong with his girlfriend in the middle of the night, was that you couldn't stop thinking about his ex. he doesn't even speak to her anymore and he loves you with his whole heart.

you looked at him, studying his face for any lie. he wasn't. you felt so obsessed and you knew it was crazy upon repair, but you couldn't help it for some reason.

"alright what's wrong. did I do something" he says sitting up and turning on the nightstand lamp.

you felt horrible. he looked exhausted and he needed his sleep, he had games coming up and he had practice in about five hours.

"no-" you sighed looking at his soft eyes urging you to go on.

"-its just" you stumbled upon how to word your next choice of words.

"you can tell me" he said rubbing your back and kissing your shoulder.

"im obsessed with your ex"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

omg this is my first non au right and also like no oc character. if its cringe lmk! I like feedback. also this is based of an edit I saw on tiktok!! goodnight loves!!

[steveseddie]

friends don’t lie

for @steddie-week day four “body swap”

rated: t | cw: none | wc: 3,1 k | tags: established steddie, secret relationship, stobin body swap, eddie’s pov, humor

click here to read on ao3

Eddie wakes up in Steve’s arms.

One month ago he would’ve thought he was still dreaming. Three weeks ago he would’ve laid there completely still, worried that as soon as he woke up Steve would regret everything they said and did the night before and kick Eddie out.

Now Eddie sighs happily and rolls over in Steve’s arms so that they’re chest to chest, face to face, their legs tangled under the blankets.

He opens his eyes and studies his boyfriend’s beautiful face. He still doesn’t know what he did to be this lucky, but at least he’s no longer constantly worrying that his luck is going to change, not when Steve has proven again and again that he wants this as much as Eddie does.

Not when just last night Steve told Eddie that he loves him for the first time. Some might think that three weeks is too soon, but to Eddie, who has been feeling this way for months, it was perfect.

This is perfect, Eddie thinks as he lies there, counting the moles and freckles on Steve’s face. He’s been debating for a while whether the one near his chin has always been there or if it appeared overnight when Steve starts to stir.

His eyes twitch but remain closed and his nose scrunches up adorably. Eddie sighs like the lovesick fool that he is.

When Steve’s eyes finally flutter open, Eddie swoops in and kisses the tip of his nose. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

He expects Steve to whine about wanting to go back to sleep or jokingly complain about Eddie’s morning breath-

What he doesn’t expect is for Steve’s eyes to widen in alarm and for him to push Eddie away with a shrill: “What the hell?”

Taking Eddie by surprise, he fails to grab onto anything and he topples over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. “Ouch, shit! Steve! What the fuck?”

His backside immediately starts hurting and there are flashes of pain coming from his elbow, which hit the bedside table on his way down.

Steve doesn’t pop his head over the edge of the bed to check on Eddie and apologize for whatever knee-jerk reaction that was- or to snigger like this was his idea of a joke.

So, groaning, Eddie untangles himself from the blankets and shuffles to his knees. “You could’ve just said my morning breath is bad, Stevie, Jesus. No need to kick me off the bed,” he jokes, but Steve doesn’t reply or move. His eyes dart all over the room, his expression panicked.

Eddie’s eyebrows knit in concern. “Steve, baby, are you okay? Were you having a nightmare?”

“I- I might be,” Steve mumbles, staring down at his hands, then poking his face with his fingers. “God, please let it be a nightmare.”

Slowly, Eddie gets up from the floor and sits down on the bed, keeping his distance from Steve, not wanting to spook him. “You’re awake now. Whatever you were dreaming about isn’t real,” he says, but the words don’t have the desired effect, they make him look more terrified. “Steve?”

“I’m not Steve.”

Eddie blinks. “You’re not- oh God, are you having a psychotic break? Did you forget who you are?” He asks, alarmed. If Steve forgot who he is then he probably forgot Eddie too. Oh no. “Do you know who I am?”

If Steve forgot about him, if he forgot about the last couple of weeks, if he forgot about last night when he told Eddie he loved him, Eddie doesn’t know what he’ll do-

“Eddie.”

“Oh, thank fuck!” Eddie sighs in relief.

“You’re dating Steve,” he says next, which makes Eddie frown again.

“Uh.” He tries to remember if Steve hit his head last night, but the only thing he can recall is pushing him against the door to kiss him, but- that wouldn’t be enough to leave his brain all scrambled, right? Then again, with the amount of concussions Steve has apparently suffered over the years, it might. “We’re dating, yeah.”

Steve’s betrayed expression is one Eddie has never seen on his boyfriend’s face, but he knows he’s seen it somewhere.

He can’t pinpoint where until Steve speaks again.

“Oh my god, I’m going to kill that dingus! I can’t believe he didn’t tell me!”

Eddie blinks, wondering for a moment if he’s the one with a scrambled brain because that- that sounded a lot like- but it can’t be- there’s no way-

And sure, this is Hawkins fucking Indiana, where weird things happen every few months, but monsters and alternate dimensions are one thing, this- this is too insane even for this goddamned town.

But then Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s, and while they’re the same big hazel eyes that Eddie loves, the person staring at him through them isn’t Steve.

“Holy shit-” He gasps, his eyes widening in realization. “Buckley?”

Steve- no, Robin nods slowly and Eddie’s heart falls out of his ass. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know!” Robin says, and it’s Steve’s voice but the panicky tone is all her.

Eddie is feeling quite panicky himself. “Why are you in Steve’s body? How is this possible?”

“I don’t know, Eddie!” Robin snaps in a high pitched voice, her hands viciously pulling her hair- Steve’s hair. Fuck, this is confusing. “All I know is I went to sleep in my body and in my room and then I woke up here and Steve-”

“Shit, where is Steve?” Eddie asks quietly because- that’s his boyfriend’s body in front of him, but where is the rest of him?

“Probably at my house, in my body, confused as hell,” she narrows her eyes at Eddie (Steve’s eyes- whatever). “But not as confused as I am that my best friend apparently has been dating the guy he’s coo coo bananas over for God knows how long and he didn’t tell me!”

Eddie grimaces, hanging a hand from his neck. “It’s only been like three weeks and he wanted to tell you right away, we just agreed to figure things out first, just us.”

Robin sighs. “Whatever, I’ll yell at you dumbasses later. Right now, we need to figure this-” she gestures at Steve’s body, “-out.”

They both seem to realize Steve’s state of undress in that moment- and Eddie’s, for that matter. Both of them in nothing but their underwear.

“Oh my god, this is so weird,” Robin says, looking down at herself. She covers Steve’s chest with her arms. “You two couldn’t sleep in pajamas like normal people?”

“Be grateful we actually put on underwear after we- uh. Before going to sleep,” Eddie says sheepishly.

Robin full-body shudders at that, her face scrunching up. Taking pity on her, Eddie walks over to Steve’s desk chair and grabs some basketball shorts and a shirt from the pile of clean clothes that Steve forgot to put away last night. “Here,” he says, tossing them on the bed. Then he locates the clothes he was wearing last night, discarded haphazardly on the floor, and gets dressed too.

“So what do you think is going on here?” He asks, buttoning up his jeans.

“More Upside Down bullshit probably?” Robin suggests, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable in Steve’s skin.

“Or maybe Steve and I accidentally took our soulmate bond to the next level.”

Eddie scratches his head, unsure of what to do now. “Should we call someone?”

Robin chews on Steve’s lip, and Eddie is momentarily distracted. His brain hasn’t caught up with the fact that that’s not his boyfriend and is still demanding that Eddie walks over there and soothes the sting with his tongue.

“Probably Steve, or I guess, me. My house. Robin’s house, you know what I mean.”

At that moment, they hear front door to Steve’s house open and close in quick succession, followed by Robin’s voice. “Guys!”

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Eddie says, exchanging a look with Robin as they hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

Seconds later, the bedroom door swings open, revealing Robin panting and trying to catch her breath. Steve wouldn’t have any trouble running up the stairs, but Robin’s body is clearly protesting.

If that’s actually Steve inside Robin’s body. They don’t know for sure if they’re the only ones who switched bodies or if that’s someone else-

“Steve?” Eddie asks warily.

Robin’s eyes meet his, and even if they’re blue and not hazel, and the face they’re on is all wrong, that’s clearly Steve staring back at him.

“Eds?” His voice sounds different too, but the way he says Eddie’s name is the same.

“Oh thank god,” Eddie says, relief washing over him. Steve also seems relieved to find his boyfriend is in his own body.

“Ew, don’t look at Eddie like that while you’re in my body, dingus.”

Robin’s eyes- Steve’s eyes snap to him- her. Jesus H. Christ, this is going to give Eddie a headache.

“Rob?” Steve asks, big blue eyes blinking at his friend.

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck is going on?” He asks, attempting to run his hand through his hair like he does when he’s stressed out, only for his fingers to get stuck in the pigtails that Robin slept in.

“I have no idea! All I remember is that I was dreaming about you and then I woke up with Eddie.”

Steve’s eyes widen, darting between Robin and Eddie. “Listen, Rob-” He starts, clearly trying to come up with an explanation as to why they would platonically be sharing a bed.

“Don’t bother, sweetheart, she knows,” Eddie tells him. He might’ve been able to explain away the bed sharing, maybe even the cuddling, but not Eddie kissing his nose to wake him up or the fact that they slept together in their underwear.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, dingus, you have some explaining to do,” Robin says, her hands on her hips in a way that is so Steve it ends up being a little trippy. Then her eyes narrow at Steve. “How did you even get here?”

Steve shrugs. “I snuck out the back door without your parents seeing me and used your old bike.”

“And you didn’t think about changing before leaving the house? Someone could’ve seen you! Vickie could’ve seen you!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t exactly my priority, Rob- hey! Maybe I should go see Vickie while I’m like this, ask her out for you.”

“Don’t!” Robin says, her expression turning horrified. “I’ll break up with Eddie for you!”

Eddie snorts. “Sorry, Birdie, but not even the real Steve could get rid of me.”

“Then I’ll shave this jungle in his chest!”

Now it’s Eddie’s expression that turns horrified.

“Alright, alright, I won’t do it,” Steve says, holding up his hands in surrender.

Robin wrinkles her nose. “I might just do it anyway, there’s just so much. And it tickles.”

“Don’t you dare, Buckley!” Eddie protests.

“Geez, fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But I will, if you kiss me again.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. “You kissed her?”

“Only because I thought it was you!” Eddie explains lest anyone decides to accuse him of cheating. “And all I did was kiss her nose- his- yours, fuck! She didn’t have to push me off the bed for it!”

“You pushed him off the bed?” Steve asks, sounding more concerned about that than he did about Eddie accidentally cheating on him- though considering it was Steve’s body and Eddie had no way of knowing it wasn’t him, Eddie would argue it shouldn’t count.

“I panicked!”

Steve sighs. “Maybe we should all agree to no kissing until Robin and I are back in our bodies?” He suggests and both Robin and Eddie nod.

“How do we get back to our bodies?” Robin asks.

Eddie’s bottom lip juts out in a pout. “Yeah, because I would like to be able to kiss my boyfriend again.”

Robin gives him a look that tells Eddie that his wanting to kiss Steve isn’t one of her priorities, but doesn’t say anything about it, jumping into one of her rambles instead.

“Okay, all we know so far is that this seems to be affecting just us or we would’ve heard about our friends swapping bodies already. Now is this related to the Upside Down? Is it the Russians? Maybe it’s a very late effect from that truth serum! Or maybe Vecna isn’t dead and he’s messing with our heads. Can he do that? Swap people’s minds instead of just making them see things? Or maybe there’s something else in Hawkins that could do this- another wizard or a witch! But why would they do that? Why us?” She narrows her eyes at Steve. “Maybe the witch knew you two were lying to me and decided to do something about it!”

Steve scoffs. “Why would a witch or Vecna or the Russians care about that, Rob? And we weren’t lying, okay? We were going to tell you!”

Robin shakes her head. “I should’ve known- I should’ve known something happened when you stopped whining about Eddie never wanting you back!”

Eddie perks up at that. He coos at Steve. “Aw baby, you were pining after me?”

Steve’s blush is even more noticeable thanks to Robin’s pale cheeks. He flips Eddie off. “Fine, let’s pretend this was just a very complicated plan to get me to come clean- why haven’t we switched back? You already know.”

“I don’t know, maybe we have to be asleep for the swap to take place, we could take a-” Robin cuts off abruptly, eyes widening. “Oh no.”

Steve and Eddie both look at each other in alarm. “What?”

Robin wrinkles her nose. “I have to pee.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. “Then go?”

“I can’t, I don’t- I don’t want to touch it.”

Eddie’s eyes dart down and he bursts out laughing while Steve is nicer about it and just snorts.

Robin huffs, crossing his arms. “Assholes.”

Eddie flashes her a shit-eating grin. “Want me to hold it for you? It wouldn’t be the first time I touch it.”

Robin goes red and she glowers at Eddie. “I hate you!” She says and then storms off to Steve’s bathroom, the sound of Eddie’s laughter following her until she closes the door.

When he calms down and glances at Steve, he’s shaking his head at him, but there’s a ghost of a smile in his face. “You’re insufferable.”

“That I am, sweetheart, but you still love me.”

A full smile breaks on Steve’s face- soft and dopey. If Robin was here she would protest about Steve looking at Eddie like that while in her body. “Yeah, I do,” he says, causing butterflies to flutter in Eddie’s stomach. “And I want to kiss my boyfriend too so I’m gonna call El and hope she knows a way to fix this.”

To Eddie that sounds as good a place to start as any.

***

Turns out El actually knows how to fix it.

She knows because she was the one who caused it in the first place.

“Friends don’t lie,” El explains to the dumbfounded trio once they make it to the new Byers-Hopper home. “You were lying to Robin so I made you tell the truth.”

“Thanks?” Robin says, back in her own body. All it took was El closing her eyes and the lights flickering around them and ta-da! Steve and Robin were back to normal.

El accepts her thanks with a nod and turns to the other two. Eddie can’t help but shudder under her stare- knowing what she can do.

“We’re sorry,” Steve says, giving her his best puppy look. Eddie is glad they switched back already- it wouldn’t have the same effect without his big doe eyes. “We won’t lie to Robin again, right Eddie?”

He nudges Eddie’s side and Eddie nods jerkily lest supergirl here decides to body swap him with a squirrel or something. “Yup. Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up three fingers.

“But- we only lied because we weren’t ready to tell Robin or anyone else yet, not because we don’t care about her,” Steve explains and El’s eyebrows furrow. “Sometimes people just need time.”

She nods. “I understand, Steve.” Then she stands up and offers them a smile. “Joyce is making Eggos. Do you want to stay?”

“I should probably go home and change,” Robin says, looking down at her pajamas.

Eddie grabs Steve’s hand. “We have things to do,” (read: kiss) “And places to be,” (read: Steve’s bed).

“We’ll see you tomorrow for movie night,” Steve says, standing up too. El nods, waving them goodbye.

They’re already at the door when Eddie thinks of something. He turns around, narrowing his eyes at El. “You’re not gonna body swap us with the whole party are you, supergirl?”

She shakes her head. “You can tell them when you’re ready.”

They sigh in relief and leave, waving goodbye to an animated Joyce and a suspicious Hopper on their way out.

The three of them climb into Eddie’s van and sit in silence for a moment.

“I know she meant well,” Eddie says, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “But she scares me more than any fifteen-year-old should.”

Steve and Robin hum in agreement.

Eddie glances at Robin through his rearview mirror. “Want us to drop you off home?”

“Yeah, I need to shower and change and,” she pauses, biting her lip, and then mumbles the last part: “go to Vickie’s house to ask her out.”

Steve and Eddie whirl around in their seats. “What?”

Robin shrugs. “If you two dorks managed to get your heads out of your asses long enough to confess your feelings then I can do the same. Maybe. Who knows? Some of Steve’s game might’ve stuck to me while he was in here,” she says, tapping her knuckles against her head.

Eddie snorts. His life is so fucking weird. “As you wish, my lady,” he says with a hand flourish. “But first-”

He reaches across the console to cup Steve’s cheeks and bring him close enough for a kiss like he’s been waiting to do all morning. He keeps it short, chaste, knowing that Robin will protest otherwise. When he pulls back, it’s a relief to find his Steve beaming back at him.

It’s also a relief not to be pushed onto the floor. His fucking elbow still hurts. Damn, Buckley.

In the backseat, Robin groans. “Oh no, you two are gonna be gross and mushy in front of me from now on, aren’t you?”

Eddie shoots Steve a smile only to find him already grinning back. “Yup,” he admits.

After all, friends don’t lie.

[sunarots]

so high school ━━━ atsumu miya

39. petty ♡

The sun peaks through Atsumu's curtains, brightening up the darkness behind your eyelids. You groan, rolling over to pull Atsumu closer to you. When you reach out and feel nothing but the bed, you sigh knowing that you should probably get up if even he was awake before you.

You grab one of Atsumu's hoodies from its spot on the floor, giving it a quick sniff before pulling it down over your head. You take a quick glance in his mirror, flattening down your hair in an attempt to look the least bit presentable. You pull the door open, hearing far-off whispers from the kitchen. You try to strain and catch what's being said, assuming Atsumu's telling them about last night's confession, yet you can't hear what anyone's saying.

Rubbing at your eyes to clear the sleep from them, you make your way towards the voices. "Morning!" you call through, the talking stopping.

"Uh- mornin', angel!" Atsumu calls back to you before whispering something else. He steps in front of you before you can enter the room, a sheepish smile on his face. "How'd ya sleep?"

You smile up at him. "Pretty good. I'm starving though, can I get through?"

Atsumu looks behind himself and tightens his grip on the doorframe, pausing before stammering out a reply. "Um, why don't I bring it out to ya? Go back to bed!"

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to see past him. "What are you hiding?"

He shakes his head, tries to assure you it's nothing. "It's okay, angel. I'll take it to ya-"

You manage to get him to move out of the way, revealing to you the kitchen full of your friends. You feel yourself shrink when their eyes all set on you.

Atsumu rests his back against the counter, pulling you towards him and draping his arms around your neck whilst you faced the boys. "Tell her what ya just told me," he says, narrowing his eyes at them all.

"We are all so sorry for how we reacted," Wakatoshi starts, straightening up his posture on the other side of the room. "We acted like children. We should have heard you out."

"We thought you were making up the entire relationship, and you slipped up on the story. And then when you came in still all loving with him, we thought that... We thought so wrong. We were thinking, at least own up to it. But we should have given you the chance to explain yourself at the game. You must have felt so..." Kuroo trails off, eyes settling on the floor.

Kageyama takes a step forward, his hands shoved inside of his pockets. "When Atsumu told us what dicks we were, we snapped back into reality. I- I'm sorry. I am. I was thinking that we'd fought over nothing and I was hurt. I thought you were throwing our friendship away for a fake relationship. I feel like even more of a dick than I was already being."

You press your lips together in a tight line, a futile attempt to stop your tears from falling. You lean back fully against Atsumu and smile a little. "You guys must feel really bad if he's said the words I'm sorry."

Kageyama laughs along with you, removing a hand from his pocket and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "More exhausting than the match yesterday. Can I go lie down?"

You look up at Atsumu and smile. He uses one of his thumbs to wipe away your tears before dropping his arm back in place.

"Right, not to ruin yer moment, but I need to go to practice. Can I trust ya not to turn on y/n before I come back?"

"Depends on how much she talks about you, Tobio needs time to recover from his embarrassing loss yesterday."

Atsumu burts out laughing at Wakatoshi's comment, kissing your cheek before making his way out. Before he leaves, he turns with a wide smile. "Make sure ya talk about me a lot. Ya need revenge on them!"

You roll your eyes at him, pushing yourself to sit up on the kitchen counter. Your eyes drift over everyone, trying to fight your smile.

"So, you love him?" Kenma speaks up for the first time, leaning forward to look past Kuroo.

The smile creeps out despite your attempt to compress it. "I... I'm getting there. I'm almost there," you admit, resting your hands in your lap.

"When I ask this, it's not a dig," Tobio clarifies, clearing his throat. "Does he treat you well? Genuinely?"

You nod your head quickly. "He does. He's the best. He's such a sweetheart, nothing like what everyone says. I can tell that when he says he loves me that he's telling the truth. He shows it all the time, too. I managed to get him to watch horror movies with me. He's agreed to watch the Saw franchise, I don't know how I did that. I'm proud of myself." You turn your attention to Wakatoshi. "I can't believe you took me out of your twitter bio."

He lowers his head, Kuroo dramatising a gasp. "I'm sorry. I feel-"

"I'm only teasing. But still, that was a new level of petty, I love it," you interrupt, waving your hand. "Wakatoshi, you are now officially my number one hype man."

Tobio's jaw drops, turning his head between the pair of you. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't believe how easy you replaced me. I've hardly been gone."

"Hey, be lucky any of you are even in here right now. Atsu was pissed. What did he say to you guys?"

Kenma raises an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

Shaking your head, you look around them all suspiciously. "I didn't even know he spoke to you guys. I thought he just had to do something with his team."

"He pointed out we treated you like shit. He slapped Ushiwaka with his words. He also kept calling you the love of his life," Kenma says, shrugging his shoulders. "It was gross. But he was right. We all feel like shit for what we did."

“As long as next time you guys actually hear me out, then we’re fine,” you joke, lowering yourself off the kitchen counter. “Now, how about we watch a movie? That way, we don’t upset Kags by talking too much about my boyfriend who destroyed his team yesterday?”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. after your best friend reveals he’s moving out of your shared flat, you’re presented with a tough choice: let one of the creeps who are begging you to let them move in with you, or find a cheaper flat in another area of town. a do-over couldn’t have come at a better time for you, but your only option for a place to stay is with someone your best friend knew from high school, and his two teammates.

taglist (open!). @reignsaway @yuminako @thiisisntlovely @diorzs @aboutkiyoomi @spicana @bakingcuriosity @kr1nqu @savemebrazilhinata @dazqa @sereniteav @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @sleezzsister @hermaeusmorax @giocriedpower @sophosphorescent @gigiiiiislife @zazathezaer @rrosiitas @iaminyourfloors @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sillygooseymood @ellouisa17 @wakashudou @punkhazardlaw @arminswife12 @libbymeows @thomatri @nanamis-right-tiddie @xerophyides @softpia @from-mae @nymphsdomain @eccedentesiast-sapphic @luvly-writer @tojirin @corvid007 @lollbecca @ferntv @mochroialainn

[savventeen]

you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.