#i could write a book on this topic tbh

[hayleysayshay]

1, 2 and 12 for Mako? :o

YEAHHHHHHH

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

Okay so with Mako, I always watched TLOK and enjoyed the character and never took against them like the rest of the fandom. I think at the characters core, he’s ultimately just a good guy who’s in a crazy world. I tend to enjoy ‘straight’ men character types and the more they lean into that element of him as the show goes on, the more I enjoy him. But more than that I think I like characters that do have something going under the surface — he clearly experienced trauma and is currently fairly repressed. Even if the show doesn’t go into much it’s there.

Fandom wise, I also think he’s got all this unpacked trauma and the most tragic backstory you can have and the show does little with it, so it’s Greta if you like writing/reading angst and hurt comfort and trauma and growing because there’s so much to work with and so little canon to contradict. I’m begging TLOK fic writers to see the potential he’s a borderline blank slate to work with and it’s fun.

If I were to say what I dislike about him, it is the unrealised backstory potential, and how you can feel, especially in book one, the slavish devotion to portraying him as cool and important with little depth and reasoning to back it up. Book One even has Amon, the villain, say ‘how talented’ Mako is before he tries to take his bending, like we can’t go five minutes without being reminded how cool Mako is, how the narrative has to prop up the male love interest and leave the female protagonist to react to their cool exploits. They they just wanted to have a love triangle because they wanted shipping like in ATLA, but with none of the developed character dynamics that made shipping fun. There isn’t a deep relationship with Asami or Korra to warrant this amount of attention on the romances or even Mako, and it’s why book one Mako is the worst Mako, at least book two Mako is flawed and gets to breathe a little in his relationships.

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

I love his devotion to his friends. Like the ending of book four with Mako saying he’d always be there for Korra is what I like about him, and he’s got her back and always will. Platonic Makorra ftw.

Also Mako always did work best with Bolin, especially in book 3 and 4. The obvious care he has towards his himbo brother is always endearing, and they work best as characters when it’s the brothers just bouncing off each other. Mako’s ‘I love you’ moment in book 4 is with his brother, it’s fine that he doesn’t have a romance, he’s got his friends and brother and that’s a sweet ending (anyone who says he doesn’t have anything going for him can eat me)

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Lots but here’s some:

A) was a Mumma’s boy, and was also a quiet kid

B) is ultimately a nerd at heart, but just didn’t really have the chance to be that on the streets. Now that he has a chance to he likes educating himself

C) enjoys soduku and crossword puzzles

D) reads well, but has generally awful handwriting since he grew up on the streets

E) after everything, gets a chance to bond with Opal, and they both enjoy reading together or sharing book recs (I don’t think they would actually have a chance to talk in canon, but after the airbenders aren’t needed in the earth kingdom I think they’d get a chance to chill).

F) walks Asami down the aisle for her wedding with Korra cos I’m sappy especially after Asami decides she’ll be strong and doesn’t need anyone.

G) bi cos I said so

[vagueconfusion]

i need to get my old kindle charged up again, it'd be easier to read music on it tbh

[orphiicheartd]

Bruh, I am prolly slow on the uptake, but I'm realizing that, considering their magic is heavily influenced by imagination, it's no WONDER Kalim's magic, especially his defensive magic, is so weak.

Because he's always had everything handed to him or done for him by others, especially Jamil, of course his imagination would never compare. Bc he's never HAD to long for anything, never had to think of anything for himself besides what he was told/given, outside certain circumstances!

Is it a wonder he was able to manifest his magic at an age when Jamil was attending another school away from him? When Kalim himself WANTED to and tried so HARD at something, likely for the first time in his life, to manifest his magic to be JUST LIKE Jamil?

Tbh, the best thing that ever happened to Kalim was not really Jamil. Bc incidentally, the way they were raised, it only served to limit Kalim both in life experiences and magic, having Jamil do everything for Kalim. He never needed to work on honing his magic when Jamil could take care of potions, when Jamil could defend him and take the brunt of the grunt work.

Thus, the best possible thing to have happened to Kalim really having to make his own friends outside of him at Night Raven. Like when he used Oasis Maker to entertain Crowley with excellent control and skill ( likely something he learned to do for shows with the Pop Music Club, I bet! ). Or how when he had to make a party without Jamil's help, Ruggie let him learn how to cook with only using magic and the food STILL turned out to be a hit despite it being Kalim's first shot at it! Or how he was able to surprise Jamil by making the river to bring Octavinelle, himself and Yuu'n Grim back to Scarabia after the boy'd dismissed his Signature Spell as useless.

[zmediaoutlet]

(1) Hi Liz, happy WW! I have a random thought-thread I’d love your opinion on, and it kind of goes with this weeks WW theme of americana and american gothic!Usually in incestious stories the siblings don't have romantic/sexual relationships outside of their family. Its interesting that both Sam and Dean have had a good amount of "normal" relationships throughout their lives, yet the fandom can still see incest as a plausible endgame. (Even though, a few of these relationships are contested.)

(2) A big theme of the show is both of the boys longing for a normal apple pie/white picket fence life, and that want being contrasted with their fucked up family and deeper desires. The way I see it, their “normal” relationships throughout the show represent the standard American Dream of wife and 2.5 kids. On the flip side, Sam and Dean’s relationship with each other is the mirror-image of that American Dream: it is the dark, american gothic, forbidden ending. (3) So throughout the show, we see two examples of American ideals/lore playing against each other. My question is: Have you ever thought about this dynamic in SPN in comparison with other incest stories/lore? Or about how their past relationships tangled with Wincest paint a bigger picture of the American-ness of the show? (Could it ever REALLY be set in Canada? Haha!) I’d love to hear your musings, I hope this message made sense!

I apologize for not getting to this on WW proper but I have been a flat fuck this week and so I needed a bit of a running start! Thank you in the first place for such a thinky ask! I think I understand what you're getting at, but you'll have to indulge me as I think out loud --

American Gothic: technically literally just that one painting, because the barn had a gothic-style window for some reason. But gothic incest romance has all those flavors of isolation, and when you combine that with American suspicion of poverty and closed communities becomes -- turning inward, backwoods and a family that looks suspiciously at outsiders and gets up to all kinds of shit. The Benders, basically.

American Dream: committed spouse, a home to build a life inside, children as a legacy, being able to support and sustain yourself and be happy and more-or-less free while nevertheless contributing to society as a whole.

Now, whenever we're thinking about something, there are the bare facts and there's the presentation of those facts. Sam and Dean are outsiders to society, raised in a way that could easily make them cult-members, who fail to have successful external relationships and end up turning inward to live alone in a bunker while having a casual relationship to violence. On bare facts, that sounds pretty American Gothic.

...On presentation and feel, though, it really isn't, and that's because the Sam and Dean we meet are not Benders, nor are they the fic-versions of themselves that we meet in various AO3 stories that try to make sense of those bare facts with an entirely different presentation and vibe to the one in the show. Instead Sam and Dean are... really regular guys, 99% of the time. Despite the being-raised-in-motels and despite the violent job and despite walking midnights full of monsters... they have a really easy time with 'strangers', they do have external relationships (brief or not), they move through the world with confidence and ease. They aren't secret serial killers. They aren't deeply possessive and controlling of each other's thoughts and desires and actions (again, despite some AO3 treatments).

Instead, if we return to our two bullet points -- which one do the Winchesters as of approx. s11 (and certainly by the point of the post-15.19 period where the characterization-story ends) really sound like? Hopefully most would agree that they ended up getting that American Dream version they hoped for, even if the bare facts aren't necessarily the stereotypical ones that people name-drop. This is partly because the "wife" and the "picket fence" don't actually mean a female spouse and a literal boring 3br/2ba in the suburbs. What they mean is stability, comfort, safety, contentment. What do Sam and Dean have together at the end of the show? All of those things. Like, 10/10 on the rubric, guys. And they don't have it in a grimdark 'ah I suck your blood out of your balls every morning' kind of way -- it is presented as an unalloyed good thing. They're happy together, just as they are.

Now: that is fucking STRANGE. But it's wonderful in its strangeness. This is a show where the leads, being as basically normal as they are, 'should' have gone the more traditional wife et al route -- but they didn't need to, and the show didn't force them into that box. (By some miracle.) They have 'normal' relationships, as you say, but (just going off purely canonical ones) Jess and Amelia and Cassie and Lisa were never real options, because the show never presented them that way. There were the 'facts' that Sam or Dean was in a more-or-less committed relationship with an external person, but the feel was that these were offscreen, told-not-shown, and they never really mattered. Every one was only possible when the overarching ur-relationship, that of Brothers (because we don't have a better word for what they really mean to each other), wasn't possible at that moment. The show does gesture at how this is strange -- Lisa tells Dean that his fixation on Sam is bizarre; Sam realizes that he has to literally choose between a girlfriend and his brother -- but the return to the central relationship is always treated as the correct choice by the narrative and, this is crucial, presented as morally sound, inside the framework in which the show operates.

You can imagine another text -- a Crimson Peak or a Borgias or a Game of Thrones or a Flowers in the Attic or a Secret History -- allowing for those external-to-internal shifts and treating them as vile, disturbing, strange. Pale violent children who snap at people who try to help them get on the correct path. Normal people staring in at the freaks and saying, what are they? what happened to them? The only character I can think of in all of Supernatural who comes close to that attitude is Henriksen, and he's a 'villain' by the lights of that season, and is brought into the light (again, inside the moral framework of the show) where he realizes, ah, the Winchesters are the good guys, so it's fine.

That might be the everlasting difference between Supernatural and some of the shows where the incestuous couple falls into the gothic 'dark' side vs the American dream side. Sam and Dean are the good guys. They are literally on the side of light. The literal deity of the new framework of the universe is their little buddy and the world was literally designed with their story in mind. Regardless of what you might think about all those things, or wish they were otherwise, or wish the presentation were otherwise -- they're just true, and the presentation of them is positive. Sam and Dean are not evil and so their strange, fucked up, bizarre relationship must come around to being a good thing, or the show just -- doesn't work. Or it's an entirely different show. But Supernatural On The CW (2005-2020) was never going to have their heroes be secretly gnasty Lannisters, and so -- their reward, after all that trial and hardship, is to live the American Dream after all. Not in a dreamlike wife or picket fence but in the things that matter: security, and comfort, and family. And they really only ever needed one other person to be their family.

(P.S. 'What about Sam?' I hear a complainer complaining. To them I say -- he got the American Dream right the first time around. What he promised to Dean was to live and try out the more traditional version, which he might have always wondered if he'd missed out on. And he had that life! Good for him. Note that it passed in the space of a montage -- returning us to presentation and told-not-shown and the feel being that it didn't matter all that much, in the end, because what happens? He shows up on the bridge in the clothes Dean loved him in, with the face Dean remembered best, and he'd been waiting all those years to say -- I imagine, and I'll let this be fic here at the end instead of meta -- I tried it. I did what you asked. Now, here I am, and I'm never doing that again. I think Dean'll be all right with that.)

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[fccloveii]

Eren Jeager's Masterlist

🗝!! ✧✦. (¡¡Non of the works archieved here are mine!!)

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Hello!! I hope that everyone who read this are doing great!!

Today I decided to post a masterlist of all my favorite eren jaeger fanfics/one-shots I have ever read. I'm mostly doing this because I felt like some of this masterpieces deserved much more attention, moreover I realize that most of the writing under eren's hashtag were about smut, degradation, eren being toxic, etc. And it was getting quite tiring. Therefore I figured I could make my own masterlist and share to the world my amazing findings.

You’re free to comment recommendations if you have any too!! (not but fr I have read everything and I need more 🥲)

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• THIRTEEN by emefaerie (wattpad and ao3)

By far the best fanfic I have ever read. Not only because of the plot (which is amazing, the author is a genius) but the writing is to die for and the characters are soo well written. Everything about this book is perfect!! It covers from childhood friends to lovers, to enemies to lovers, to strangers to lovers and is just amazing!! And the way that the main 2 ache for eachother leaves with nothing but to wish that a love like that finds you.

• COMRADES by emefaerie (wattpad and ao3)

I love this author so much you guys have no idea, this was my favorite story for soo long. Like I said the writing is from another world. Emotions are so well descripted and the way that the author managed to fit the reader in such a complete way in the original plot from the anime is literally perfect. The relationship of the main 2 is such a roller coaster of emotion that you never stop to want more. Emefaerie never dissapoints.

• To love a liar by butterflytint (wattpad)

Kind of reminds me of parasite but is also so different at the same time. The writing is also spectacular and the emotions are so well descripted. The hurt/comfort in here is literally perfect and the slowburn is amazing.

• For you by simp4eren (wattpad)

Soo so good!! The slowburn is also amazing and the topics are also described perfectly. This one was like my second favorite fanfic of eren, literally perfect!!

• CAMGIRL by D1CKTATED (wattpad)

Sadly is not yet finished and the chapters are pretty short but the build up is exciting!! The relationship between the main characters is really interesting too and the plot leaves you wanting more.

• method acting by @seeingivy (tumblr and ao3)

Also a childhood friends to lovers (I'm a sucker for those). Perfect way to write emotions and her eren is literally one of my favorite one. The plot is soo good and jealousy is everything in this fic. Describes everything that happens in the acting industry so well that you feel like you’re in it. Soo so good!!

• Just a friendly kiss by princess_okkotsu (ao3)

Fluff, fluff and fluff. This one-shot heals every angst of all the books before mentioned. Is short but is worth reading. And is perfect because is a best friends to lovers (my favorite trope tbh)

• Easy, baby by prettyboykatsuki (ao3)

Childhood friends to lovers in all its glory (also a one-shot). So well written and the tension is just ughhh. I just wish he was real.

• Hate you too. by Kuro_no_Ai_Hime (ao3)

Enemies to lovers!! Mostly a two-shot centered in smut but the plot is also really good. The tension between the two is also to die for. I also love this one because is not a modern au and it happens during the scouts, and those are my favorite type of fanfic. (Can you believe that this was published before season 2 and 3 like omg)

• Serendipity by aspynxcea (ao3)

What a book, holy shit. The slowburn is perfect and it kind of like a “she felt first, he felt harder” but also a enemies to lovers. Emotions here are also pretty well written and the drama fits really well into the plot. Love this book!!

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Hope you all send love to this amazing authors and if you have any recommendation please let me know!! (Preferably a childhood/best friends to lovers)

🤍.

[mephist00o]

sylus headcannons p2!

word count: >0.4k

tags: black!reader in mind, fluffy, y'all are very much in love 😘, some proposal and wedding stuff near the endf

a/n: I love doing these a lot actually 😭 I'm gonna start writing for the other LADS Li as well so stay tuned 🫶🏾

Sylus isn't COMPLETELY out of the loop with social media (he's not THAT old) but he definitely is and will continue to be confused by tiktok.

you him that one "rich man laugh" trend on tiktok and made him participate in it. Y'all got at least 100k likes.

If you ever hit him with a "would you still love me if I was a worm" stuff he'd IMMEDIATELY clock it and act accordingly.

Sylus would be the type to show his love through more subtle ways.

Before you could even finish your sentence he'd already have all your favorites in his hands with a bouquet to top it off.

Also Sylus would NOT be into the "my current boyfriend" trend.

You'll get a look before you'd even finish the damn sentence 😭

Like fixing a loose hair behind your ear, checking you if you're out on your period, stuff like that.

You, Luke, and Kieran love to mess around with Sylus. And the twins especially like pulling them when you're around because Sylus rarely, if ever gets seriously angry at you (and they can get away with it easier).

Also, Sylus is SUCHHH a good comunictor. It's something he values soso much.

He'll make sure you let him know if he's crossed the line and upset you, and he'll also express the same to you.

Sylus only really has one rule when it comes to your relationship, never go to bed angry at each other.

Ofc you both will have disagreements sometimes, but at the end of the day Sylus wants to spend the rest of his days with you, and he'll be damned if a petty argument messes that up.

When y'all have date nights you WILL be the talk of the establishment.

You both just give off major POWER COUPLE vibes, yk?

And when you and Sylus are on missions, it's especially prevalent (think of that one clip from Sylus's new main story chapter in that speed chase 🙂‍↕️).

Sylus also loves to dabble in your interests too!

If you're a reader, I see you both going on cute little book dates.

If you're into literally anything though, Sylus will make the time to learn how to do said hobby.

In my last headcannon post I mentioned how Sylus loves a person with some curves...

correction: HES OBSESSED

I'm a firm believer in that and I'll die on that hill 🫶🏾

If you bought Sylus anything without him asking for it he'd make sure that gift wouldn't have a SPEC of dust or grime on it.

Speaking of, Sylus will just stare at you occasionally.

Not in a creepy way, no. But he looks at you like you're his entire world (because really, you are).

I feel like he would express his DEVOTION to you if anything.

But Sylus will first and foremost RESPECT. YOU. AND. YOUR. OPINIONS.

And if you decided that you couldn't continue your relationship he'd let you go. :(

BACK TO SOME MORE HAPPIER TOPICS ☺️

Contrary to peoples beliefs, I feel like Sylus is capable of holding a steady beat 😭.

DONT COME FOR MEE, but like especially with his love of jazz id at least think he'd keep a steady 3/4 or 4/4 beat.

But he's definitely not perfect at it and if you're a music nerd you'd definitely be the one to help him (added that to make the choir and orchestra kid in me happy) 🤭

You and Sylus will get SUPER competitive over games and video games (lowkey its mainly you)

In the beginning of the relationship before dating and everything, Sylus would always make it a point to beat you in kitty cards every single time.

But as you get closer to one another and more time has passed, he'll purposely start losing just to see you smile. :))

Now, when Sylus proposes to you, It'll BE AMAZING

I don't think you'd see it coming either tbh.

He's been planning this since you two officially start dating:)

It'll definitely be very very intimate!

I see it being based off the valley dream bloom cards 🙂‍↕️

I can see happening near night time, after relaxing amongst each other, Sylus will slowly get up and give a cute little speech basically just about how happy he's been with you.

OMG and the scenery is all aesthetic, there'll be fireflies everywhere and then he'll pop the question.

Of course you're saying yes because duh.

Sylus will slide the ring on your finger and you'll both just be so In love 🫶🏾.

Honorable mention: I can see Mephisto eventually warms up and you and even stops pestering you as much 🐦‍⬛

[myjjongie]

౨ৎ to my beloved ── p. jongseong ⟢ teaser

SYNOPSIS . . . Moon Yn daughter of a notorious Duke who is said to be one of the Emperor's most loyal aides is married off to Archduke Park Jay. Their marriage soon became the talk of the country. Everyone adored the joining of Yn, daughter of Duke Moon and the Emperor's eldest son Jay. Two people the Emperor cherished very deeply. Unaware of Duke Moon's true intentions, he desired the throne the Emperor sat on. Using his own daughter as a means of infiltration he marries her off to Jay. Yn being shackled down to her father listened to everything he told her to do. Eventually when the day came for the overthrowing of the Emperor's throne Yn dies before ever knowing who truly won in the end.

OR

IN WHICH . . . Yn is sent back in time to before she married Jay, before her father started preparations to overthrow the Emperor, before everything was lost. Finally having a second chance to save the people most dear to her. Yn won't let her father control her as he pleases this time. For Yn will make her own decisions despite the unforeseeable future. With this second chance she'll marry Jay with the intentions of helping him without the control of her father. ⌇WORD COUNT . . . 382 ⌇

.ᐟ PAIRING . . . archduke!jay x archduchess fem!reader

.ᐟ GENRES . . . oneshot histrorical au, time travel trope, enemies to lovers (if you squint your eyes hard enough), magic/magical beings are a thing, contract marriage, she fell first he fell harder, angst, yn was a villainess in her past life (???)

.ᐟ WARNINGS . . . yn unalives herself (in the beginning), family abuse (all from the father), heavy descriptions of certain topics, detailed scenes with physical touch

.ᐟ STARRING . . . enhypen (all members) ive (liz) nct (chenle + mark) aespa (giselle) + possible mentions of other idols

•

꒰ evie's note : so i cooked up this snippet an hour or so ago. posting this fic teaser to test the waters in a way cause i only have a smau being posted at the moment. i've also been itching to write write something and it's been a hot minute since i've gotten my creative brain juices flowing as well. back into reading manhwas again so if this reminds you of any of those, yes. and yes it's about jay again IM SORRY i miss my pookie bear angel can yall blame me :( also if i finish this within a timely manner i wanna have it out before the end of next week tbh. really hoping i'm able to do this fic justice for yall. but alas enjoy the tiny bit of what my brain cooked up. ꒱

taglist ( open! send a ask/comment to be added ) . . . @shinkenprincess-oh @jiryunn @rebeccaaaaaaaa @fancypeacepersona @thinkinboutbin @nnnecubrate @pyreflyforest776

perm. taglist ( open! send a ask/comment to be added ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek

YN POV .

My eyes blink open to see the view of an all too familiar ceiling above myself. It was the same cream colored ceiling that belonged in my bedroom in the manor at the Moon duchy. Slowly sitting up my eyes scanned my surroundings. It was exactly as I had remembered the room, the sitting area for when guests were over. The windowsill where I had often read books to pass time through the day. The tall walls decorated with intricate designs only a Duke could afford for a singular room. Thing was the last time I had been in this room was before I left for the Park duchy. When I left to get married to Duke Jay. My mind was a mess of memories as it all dawned on me.

I remembered the blazing fire as I ran through the trees in the forest next to the Park duchy. I could recall the stinging pain as the branches scratched and tore at the skin of my arms. Then the feeling of my legs numbing as I sprinted in the heavy dress that was tailored for a archduchess to wear. My head ached as everything came back to me. Remembering the sound of the knights corning me in the forest, shouting how I needed to go with them. Jay wanted me alive, but I knew it was all a lie. My father had started a coup d’état, he always craved for the higher power in the aristocracy. Being granted a duke title while not being related to the royal family simply wasn’t enough for him. So he sought out higher power, the throne of the Emperor. Jay was one of the Emperor’s sons, there was a feeling in me. Jay wouldn’t stand for his wife being the daughter of the man who wanted to take his father’s throne as well as his life. If the knights captured me to take me to Jay he for sure would have killed me with his own hands. With no other choice I took my life. In hopes that there would be one last thing I had control over before I died. It was laughable at how in the end I only had control over how I got to die and who got to kill me.

©myjjongie 2025

[hp-hcs]

• smut• and lead us nott into temptation — asshole! pureblood! dom bottom! theodore nott x male! muggleborn! catholic! sub top! reader

requested by 🦈 anon! (aka my silly goofy lil guy <3)

WARNING: if you don’t like sacrilegious shit or gay male reader inserts, KEEP SCROLLING

i’ve got enough religious trauma to last me many lifetimes, so writing this one was just like ✍️🥲📿

tws: ⚠️dub-con⚠️, 🔞smut mdni🔞, literally no plot, manipulation, coercion, amab reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, pure blasphemy ngl, inappropriate use of religious prayers, lot of shit talking about the catholic church, gratuitous use of em-dashes, gratuitous use of the pet-name “angel”

you and theo are dormmates or something? idfk man this is literally just 2.2k words of depravity

not edited cause tbh i’m hella embarrassed that i wrote this

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“…hallowed be thy na— Theo?”

“What are you doing?” your roommate asked as he stepped inside your shared dorm, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze focused on the rosary in your hand. 

“Praying,” you mumble, cheeks flushing under his heavy stare. 

“You’re religious?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You believe in all that Muggle deity bullshit?”

“Yes.” You stiffened, lips twisting in distaste at his choice of words. 

You could physically see his pupils dilate at your affirmative answer. 

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath. “So you’re…what, celibate, or whatever it’s called?”

You startled at the sudden change of topic. 

“Um…abstinent, yes,” you corrected, taking a step backwards as he moved closer. 

“Shit,” he cursed again. “That’s fuckin’ hot.”

He kept moving forward, crowding you back against the wall. You squeaked when he rested his hand against the wall beside your head, blocking you in on one side. He gently, but firmly, gripped your jaw in his other hand. His gaze raked up and down your body.

You gulped. “Th-Theo, what’re you d—”

He cut you off with a harsh kiss. 

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was Theo biting your bottom lip hard enough to bleed, tightening his grip on your jaw to wrench it open, and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

You were frozen, the rosary slipping from your fingers and hitting the floor with a loud clatter. After an aggressively…passionate? possessive? minute, Theo pulled back. 

“My sweet little angel,” he cooed, gently stroking the side of your face. “So pretty and pure.”

Your skin prickled under his touch, at the way his eyes darkened with hunger. The way his gentle caress belied the drop of blood running down your chin. 

He looked like sin. The way his hair curled above his ears, his pretty pink lips dotted red with your blood…

He looked like the Devil himself. 

“I want you to fuck me, Y/n,” Theo murmured unabashedly into your ear. 

Your knees trembled. Your heart raced. Your eyes were so wide, it was near painful. “Wh-what?”

“Please, angel? I want you to fuck me,” Theo whispered against your lips, a sensual tone in his voice. 

“Or,” he sighed over-dramatically, really playing it up, “if you want to remain a prude, you can tell me to stop right now and I will; no hard feelings.”

You trembled. What were you doing? Why were you even considering this?

Theo’s hand remained on your waist, and he ran his thumb across your bottommost rib in a steady pattern, back and forth, as he waited for your answer. 

“L-Leviticus 18:22,” you spluttered, doing your damn best to ignore the way the sunlight streaming through your dorm window highlighted and accentuated Theo’s gorgeous bone structure. “Th-thou shalt not lie with m-mankind, as with womankind: it is a-abomination.”

“That’s not a no.”

“That’s not a yes!” you argued. “Besides, lust is a sin of its own!”

“No, this doesn’t count.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s an abomination, not sex. Says so right in your little book. So therefore…” his fingers wandered down to the waistband of your trousers, dipping teasingly underneath to ghost over your hip bone before retreating. “Therefore it can’t be lust.”

It was the most backwards logic you’d ever heard. 

But it was hard to think about turning him away when the heel of his hand was suddenly pressing against the front of your trousers. 

“I-it…it isn’t?” you choke out, a confusing new sensation sparking in your stomach. “A-are you sure?”

“Of course,” Theo said, so confidently that you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I-if you’re sure…” you trailed off, eyes widening as Theo dropped like a rock, his knees hitting the flagstone with a resounding crack that you wished you could record, just so you could listen to it over and over and over again. 

His impatient fingers fumbled with the button of your trousers, yanking them and your boxers down to your mid-thigh in a single smooth motion. 

You flushed bright red at the mere notion of being naked from the waist down in front of another person; let alone Theo, the boy who’d been your roommate for the last eight years. 

He kept his gaze firmly locked with yours, those unnervingly dead eyes framed with sinfully long lashes, as he flattened his tongue against the base of your dick and licked a long, slow stroke up the length of it. 

“Oh, fuck—” you cursed, your head falling backwards and hitting the wall behind you with a solid thunk. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.” He grinned, his thumb swiping over the head of your dick and collecting the dribble of precum that was steadily leaking from the tip before spreading it around. 

You whined pathetically, your thighs shaking as a moan was wrenched from your lips. Theo grinned wickedly at how debauched you already looked. 

Without a speck of hesitation, he closed his mouth around your dick, his clever tongue teasing the underside. He hollowed his cheeks around you and you gasped out a choked-off moan. 

Theo’s hand snaked up and found your wrist, guiding your hand to the mess of curls on the top of his head. Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping onto a handful of it for dear life just to keep yourself from passing out from the overwhelming pleasure. Honestly, the only thing keeping you from falling over was Theo’s tight grip on your hips. 

“Shit shit shit shit—”

He pulled off of your dick with a sinful pop. 

“Keep reciting,” Theo rasped, his voice already rough and breathless. 

“Wh-what?”

“I interrupted your prayer when I walked in here. Keep reciting.”

You gulped, licking your lips nervously as you tried to remember where you’d left off before fully giving up and just starting the Our Father over. “O-Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Th-thy kingdom come, thy w-will be done, on Earth as it— hah~”

Your head fell back against the wall again as Theo sucked furiously on the tip of your dick, all of your thoughts going out the window. 

Theodore, that bastard, pulled off again.

You whined at the loss. “No- d-don’t—”

“Ah ah ah,” Theo chided, patting your thigh. “You stop, I stop. Keep going.”

You hissed out a displeased grumble before returning to your prayer as he returned to his S-tier dick sucking. “O-on Earth as it is in H-Heaven. G-give us this d-day our— Theo— daily b-bread—”

His fingers slipped down from your hip to brush against the sensitive skin behind your balls. 

Your hips jerked forward on instinct, and Theo moaned like a cheap whore around your cock as it was shoved down his throat, his nose suddenly buried in your pubes. 

“And f-forgive us our tre-trespasses…” you panted, fingers tightening their grip on his hair as your eyes squeezed shut. 

There was an odd sensation, like a coil tightening, behind your belly button. It was strange, although not unpleasant. 

“…as we f-forgive those who— who trespass aga-against us.”

Theo pulled away again. You opened your mouth to curse him out—Heaven knows he deserved it, the damn tease—when he got to his feet and promptly shucked off his shirt and trousers, dropping his boxers without a hint of modesty or insecurity. 

You stared, mouth agape, as Theo wandered over to his bed, seemingly in no hurry. He slowly splayed himself out on his bed for you, casting a wandless lubrication charm with a sly grin and an easy, relaxed posture that was belied by his achingly hard cock practically touching his stomach. 

“Close your mouth, angel,” he purred, beckoning you closer with two fingers. “You might catch flies.”

You took a small step forward, entranced by the sight in front of you.

“Keep praying, angel,” Theo murmured, running a hand through his already-disheveled curls—which only served in making his just-fucked hairstyle even more pronounced. 

“A-and lead us n-not into temptation,”—Theodore Nott was nothing if not temptation in its purest form—“but deliver us from evil.”

 You took another step closer, then another, until you were by his bedside. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Theo echoed, reaching for you with one hand. His fingers knotted themselves in your shirt, yanking you down on top of him. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and smashed his lips against yours. You wiggled, kicking your trousers and boxers off from where they were still stuck around your knees before pulling back to gasp for air. 

Theo grabbed the front of your shirt again, yanking on it. “Off.”

You complied without a second thought, tugging your shirt off over your head in one fluid motion. 

Theo groaned at the sight of your body as you tossed your shirt God-knows-where. He grabbed the back of your neck again and tugged you into another passionate kiss. 

“One day, ‘m gonna ride you,” he mumbled against your lips, running a possessive hand over your stomach. “My fuckin’ gorgeous boy. But today, you’re gonna fuck me.”

He pulled you fully on top of him, your knees between his, your forearms flat against the mattress on either side of the boy underneath you. 

“Y’know, I never told you to stop praying,” Theo murmured, reaching downwards. His fingers tightened around your cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it closer to his ass and pushing his body down against it. 

You swallowed nervously as you took the not-so-subtle hint, taking a deep breath before slowly pressing the tip in and continuing your Rosary. “H-Hail Mary, f-full of Gr—ah!—ace—”

You had to pause then to bury your head in the crook of his neck, your breathing coming in shaky gasps. Your body zinged with pleasure, your toes curling. 

“That’s it, baby,” Theo cooed, petting your hair gently. “Doing so good. Keep going. Makin’ me feel so good.”

“Th-the Lord is with thee. Blessed art th-thou amongst women—” you whispered breathlessly against his sweaty skin, pausing again for another second to compose yourself before you very slowly and hesitantly pressed in further. 

Theo’s knees tightened around your hips as he dug his heels into the backs of your thighs, urging you closer. “Sh-shit— angel, I need you to go in all the way. C-can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

You nodded and took a deep breath, and slowly and carefully pushed yourself all the way in, bottoming out inside of him after an agonizingly long moment. 

Theo gasped sharply as soon as you were fully seated inside of him. His fingers tightened their grip on your shoulders until his nails managed to break the skin. You leaned down to press your lips against his—much more gently than he had—and moaned into his mouth at the slight sting from his nails. 

Theo sighed in pleasure against your lips and returned the kiss. “M-move, angel. Need you t-to move.”

You slowly pulled nearly all the way out, your eyes fixed on his face. You wanted to document every facial expression, every muscle twitch, everything that Theo did while underneath you. 

Watching his lower lip tremble as a moan spilled out of him had to be your breaking point. Your hips snapped forward of their own accord, quickly filling him back up. “A-and blessed- is- the- fruit- fuck- of thy w-oh!-mb, Jesus.”

His head fell backwards with a loud cry, his nails raking up your back as he scrambled for anything to cling onto. “Yes! Fuck— harder!”

“H-Holy Mar— shit! M-Mary, Mother of G-God…”

You sped up, driving into him faster and harder with every frantic demand that left his lips. You let out a high whine as Theo leaned up to suck on the tender flesh under your jaw with a feral-like possessiveness. Red and purple marks had already begun to bloom along your neck and jaw. 

The coil in your stomach tightened even further.

“Th-Theo, I don’t— wh-what’s—?” you stuttered, panicking at the unfamiliar sensation. 

“Y-you about to cum, angel?” he panted. He stroked a gentle hand over your lower abdomen. “You feel s-something funny right here?”

You whimpered and nodded frantically. “P-please— I’m gonna—”

“No. Hold it, angel.”

“Wh-what?”

“You don’t get to finish until you finish your prayer, baby boy.”

You hissed in discomfort. “P-pray for us sinners—”

Your words were interrupted by a high-pitched moan from Theo as his back arched off the bed. He started chanting your name, over and over again, like a prayer of his own. 

His fingers scrabbled for a hold on your shoulders as he tightened around you. “Shit shit shit— ‘m not g-gonna last— fuck! Cum for me, angel,” Theo pleaded, his nails digging further into your back and leaving long marks that quickly blossomed into a rich pink color. 

“Nowandatthehourofourdeath!” you rushed the last line with a near-shriek as the coil in your abdomen exploded, your toes curling again and your vision going white. Your arms buckled and you collapsed on top of Theo, who was experiencing the exact same thing as you.

You both just laid there in a sweaty heap, limp and boneless from your respective mind-blowing orgasms. 

“Amen,” Theo said softly, finishing your prayer. He casted a wandless cleaning spell on the both of you before gently wrapping his arms around you and stroking your scratched-up back as you both came down from your highs. You let out a pleased purr at the feeling of his soft touch gently brushing over your stinging scratches, a wordless spell from Theo methodically coating the marks with a numbing topical ointment. 

You echoed the sentiment after a moment of catching your breath, content to just cuddle with him in this moment. You pressed a kiss to the side of Theo’s throat and whispered a singular word against his skin, “Amen.”

[littlelamy]

𝓾𝓹𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 (*updated* feb 13,2025)

link to the post: can u do smth with rafe x anxious!reader

link to the post: thinking about how rafe comes up with excuses to come and pick up his niece from school too nervous to ask reader out (which is rare for him) maybe his niece teasing him when he comes to pick her up and says something like “do you have a crush on my teacher?” (insert rafe nickname that sarahs niece has for him) and maybe reader overhears and the next time he sees her he has the courage to ask her out for coffee or something

link to the post: hey babee!! I was wondering if you could do something smutty for Rafe and reader who is pressured to do well in school/uni and always be perfect and she has had enough and just needs to be present and not worry about things all the time and her loving boyfriend is here to help her, reassuring her and praising her, telling her she doesn't need to always be perfect and stress herself out, that he loves her always, no matter what. thank you so much in advance, I love your work 💖 this is just Rafe taking care of his stressed girl basically 😔

link to the post: hii, can i request something like Rafe being obsessed with reader's tiny waist? Like he loves how it feels to grab it with both hands and have them there because how it feels, always grabbing her by there.and loving when she put on crop tops and stuff like that😄

link to the post: Request idea, I don’t know if you write for Zach Maclaren (but otherwise I guess….a slight non canon Soft!Rafe, no way canon Rafe would be like this, anyways: I got this thought watching the very beginning of the horror movie (but make it romantic ey) Reader is about to check into her airbnb but discovers there is already a guy there  who has also booked the Airbnb, it’s been double booked by the host. He feels bad that she can’t find anywhere else to stay since it’s so late at night, so he offers her to stay over the night. The start of a sweet, gentle unexpected romance where he keeps doing cute awkward things to gain her trust and show he is not some psycho/weirdo, kinda like the movie (the male character waited to open a wine bottle so she could see him do it so she feels safe to drink it, he suggested making her tea again and for him to watch him since she did not drink the tea he made)

link to the post: thinking about rafe being more involved with sarahs life after the baby and spending time with them and taking the kid to school or maybe picking the kid up and seeing reader who is a teacher and they flirt or maybe it’s parent teacher conference and rafe tags along with john b bc Sarah can’t make it and him and reader are cute and flirting

link to the post: Pouge!Reader x Rafe(season 4-isch): She has a crush on Rafe (maybe he comes somewhere she works, say café, bakery or whatever) and she thinks her feelings obviously are unrequited given that she is a pouge. Rafe is still at that point where he is struggling between the thoughts of ‘’Pouge-vs-kooks are ridiculous’’ but also caring. Perhaps he is having a crush on Reader but is finding his internal thoughts so he goes on a date with some kook girl and Reader see them somewhere, and her dreams are crushed since the girl is the complete opposite of her (expensive clothes, barbie pretty face and manicured etc) and she feels so stupid since she was clearly not even Rafe’s type. She says yes to a date with some random Pouge guy and….well…..Rafe sees them---the dude holding her hand, kissing her cheek and making her smile, and decides to talk to her when she goes off by herself

link to the post: req!! reader always have a hard time sleeping and is always sleepy and rafe’s trying all the methods in the books despite humself being sleepy as hell :3

link to the post: hey queen was wondering if you could do an angsty rafe fic don’t care what the topic is just need my soul to be crushed tbh…anyway love your work😛😛

link to the post: Hii! I love your writing. Do you think you could write one where Rafe is a single father of a 4-year-old son and he meets a reader, and then they start a relationship and she meets his son and well, they start being a family? I'd love something like that, thank youuuuu

link to the post: more cowboy rafe pls 🙏🏾🙏🏾, maybe one where he wins first place in the bull riding competition and they celebrate after, maybe a bj fic 👀

link to the post: Can you do when prince Rafe see reader talking to a other prince after what happened when she saw Rafe with a other woman please

link to the post: omggg i need rafe x stoner gf who comes home high nd needy🙂‍↔️

link to the post: smut request…Reader is the love of Rafe’s life and prior to her, he had not even thought about anal sex and hell, maybe even found it disgusting. But now because his love for her is so strong, he just wants to possesses her and explore EVERY part of her. Maybe he does not bring it up to her, but it starts of slow like….say…..when they are having sex, he is kind of caressing her other hole and she does not say anything (kind of shook but in a good way and lets him) and there on, once he goes down on her vaginally he travels up to do it anal (maybe here she’s like ‘’I like it but why did you do that’’ and he doesn’t fully come clean about his desires and maybe is more just like ‘’your hole just looked so sexy’’ or something. At this point maybe she’s like ‘all right…maybe he was just a bit curious about that, no big deal’’ but then maybe his thoughts of the things he wants to do to her is killing him and he brings up anal sex like a love struck idiot begging on his knees and explains why and they have some romantic sweet anal? 🥺

link to the post: can you do with rafe and !reader who faints a lot during showers or just gets very lightheaded/has vasovagal episodes and can you just write like the things he does for you?

link to the post: can you do something with rafe and insecure!reader like about her body. he gets mad when he sees the scale is out and stuff like that etc

link to the post: I feel like we need to see a Pouge!Rafe more. The idea of him is just so hot. Perhaps a mehanic, very southern and likes cold beers. More ruggedy as opposed to canon Rafe who is a preppy pretty boy. Maybe something along the lines of a Sweet kind kook Reader being on the cut (for whatever reason) and Rafe saves her when he hears her being harassed by some low life pouges. I love me a resuce situation

link to the post: Can you do prince Rafe getting jealous of servant reader. Maybe another staff was flirting w her and he got pissed (you could add smut if you want idk)

link to the post: Another of Cowboy Rafe and shy reader first time together smut plss is soo good

link to the post: Omg smut request……Shy reader x Rafe with inspo from a scene from Queer with the eye contact. He’s had it with her being insecure how she looks when they are having sex or not letting him see her face (to him she’s the most beautiful woman to exist). She always some what hides it in sneaky ways…say laying her head by his shoulder or whatever. Not this time! Rafe holding her face to his and lots of eye contact and praise…..PLZZZ

link to the post: An au request idea I can't get out of my head......Rafe is a cowboy and does rodeo shows with bulls and has just started dating Reader, On their first date, he takes her to his stables where he has a fake saddled tied up to mimick being pulled and dragged around (so he can practice). Rafe helps her up on it for fun but realises he has made a mistake when he starts having dirty thoughts from how sexual it looks and tries to be a gentlemen, being super awkward barley holding it together while she's shy and oblivious

link to the post: hii i was the one who sent u the s2!soft!rafe request! i have another one where reader begs s2!rafe to let her ride him and take dominance for one and he finally gives in. she starts to get tired quickly though and he notices but she tries to brush it off until she can’t anymore and she wants him to help her and take control again. at first hes a little snarky but he soon switches to soft!rafe. and can you add aftercare afterwards? i def feel like rafe would praise her NONSTOP and not use words like slut or degrade her in anyway. during and after

link to the post: hiii id like to request rafe x scared of dogs reader only because i am terrified of dogs😞

link to the post: Could you do like a post smut……maybe with a sweet shy type of reader and rafe. He has been really rough for once (which she liked) but when she gets up from the bed to walk, she falls in pain to the floor cus she’s super sore and rafe feels really really bad and he so sweet with her :(

link to the post: hear me out: prince(maybe king)!rafe x maid!reader. 🧖🧖🧖🧖

link to the post: hii i was wondering if you could do s2!rafe/soft!rafe and kook!reader having sex for the first time? and can rafe give reader aftercare afterwards? like rafe didnt know about aftercare but ever since he started dating reader hes been asking Sarah for advice and has been learning a lot. so he decides to put his new-found knowledge to use

link to the post: this is rlly oddly specific but what abt bf rafe with reader who's just been rejected from her dream school/uni? how do you think he's react? deffo a hypothetical scenario idk what u mean

Credits to @mikeykuns for borders/dividers

[mingis-orangejuice]

Love and Deepspace Boys with an MC that's good with children Part.1: Zayne

Summary: MC helps cheer up a little girl at Akso Hospital, she then asks Zayne to invite the "Pretty hunter who was super fun" to come back

a/n: these ones were so fun to write. tbh this one is my least favourite of them, but it's still good tho just, idk ... you'll understand once you read the other parts.

Genres/Warnings: just pure teeth rotting fluff

Word count: 908

Other parts: 2, 3, 4

Sitting in the waiting room at Akso Hospital you quietly stare out the window. The nurse walks in and informs you that Dr.Zayne might take a bit longer than usual since he’s currently in the OR and there are some complications. You thank the nurse for informing you and decide to take a little stroll around the hospital while you wait. As you slowly walk down the hall, you pass by an open room and hear a small voice say 

“Miss, can you help me ?” You stop in your tracks and look around to see where the voice is coming from. You see a little girl standing in the doorway of the room you just passed. She was wearing a pink hospital gown with a cast on one of her arms and holding a teddy bear and a picture book in the other.

You turn around and return to the room “Sure, what do you need help with, hun?” You both walk into her room. It looks like any other hospital room with two beds separated by a curtain divider. The little girl’s bed was the one near the window, but there was no one in the other bed.

“Can you read this to me? Mrs Jenkins usually helps me but she’s in surgery right now so I have no friends to help me read” The little girl points to the empty bed “She said when she comes back we’ll read 100 books together!”

“Wow, that sounds like fun,” You say as you take a seat on the little chair next to her bed. The little girl hands you the book and gets under her covers. “Are you and Mrs. Jenkins close?”

“Yeah she always reads to me every day and she’s even teaching me how to read.” the little girl stated happily

“Pretty soon you’ll be reading books to her then” You smiled.

The little girl looked at you with bright eyes “That would be so cool I hope she comes back from surgery soon” she sadly looked over to the empty bed

“I’m sure she’ll come back soon, happy and healthier than ever” you reassure.

Trying to get her mind off of a sad topic you opened the book and started reading. It was a cute picture book about dragons, and you made sure to do all the voices of each character while reading. The little girl loved it she was laughing the whole time. Once that book was finished the little girl got off the bed and picked out another book from her backpack she kept on the floor under her bed. “Can you read this one too?” You smile take the book and start reading. After that book, she kept asking you to read more and more and you kept agreeing to do so. 

You two had been reading for a while now. You had almost completely forgotten about your appointment with Dr. Zayne when you heard a knock on the hospital room door. You both look over to see Zayne wheeling in an elderly lady in a wheelchair. “Mrs. Jenkins!” the little girl excitedly screamed. She got out of her bed ran over to the lady and gave her a big hug.

Zayne looked at you “What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be in the waiting room awaiting your appointment?”

Before you could say anything the little girl chimed in “Dr.Zayne, This lady was helping me read, she’s really nice, please don’t be mad at her.”

Zayne can’t help but smile at the little girl’s words, as annoyed as he was with you he couldn’t deny that seeing you in such a maternal role was too cute. “Ok I won't scold her for almost missing her appointment since you asked so nicely” he ruffled her hair and smiled.

A few days later Zayne gives you a call “Are you busy now, I need you to come to Akso.”

“What's wrong? Did something happen?” you were already fumbling to get your shoes on, thinking that there might be some kind of emergency.

“No, no nothing’s wrong. Remember that young girl you read to a few days ago? Her name is Ramona. She was telling all the other kids in the pediatric ward about the pretty lady who read to her and was super fun, I assume she was talking about you. She asked me if I could invite you again, and I said I'd see what I could do.”

“Wow, I’m flattered. Of course, I'll come. I’ll be there soon” You hang up and start to get ready.

Once you get there Zayne leads you to a room with about 10-15 kids in it. You greet the kids and sit down in the rocking chair Zayne had prepared for you, Ramona hands you a book. It was the story of the 3 little pigs and the big bad wolf.

“This one’s my favourite” Ramona expresses as she sits down on the floor with the other kids

“Hmm it seems like there's a lot of characters in this book, I don’t think I can do all the voices by myself. Maybe we can ask Dr.Zayne to help out.” you look to the children and then to Zayne who had been standing in the doorway. 

“Please Dr.Zayne !” the kids begged

He looked surprised for a moment. He looked at you saw your little mischievous grin and chuckled. He couldn’t say no to you or those kids. He reluctantly walks over to where you’re sitting and takes the book from you. “Alright if we’re going to do this then let's do it right” 

As the day went on, he felt his heart swell watching how sweet you were with the kids. He knew you were the one already, but he was so enamoured by you after this he could have proposed on the spot.

[crow-caller]

I am p convinced most of those posts complaining about books where characters constantly introduce themselves by their microlabels are popular mainly with people who have never read or seen a book like that. Same with the complaints over "poly lesbian barbarians in space" marketing

Look. Guys. Listen.

1. Marketing books by labels shouldn't be the sole detail given, obviously

2. The reason people do it is because it actually works far better than marketing based on plot. People do, in fact, care about seeing repsentation because many identities still have very little representation out there. Advertising based on this Does Better. People ignore books they haven't heard of, indie books, all the time— authors need to advertise instead to those communities looking for representation. As an author who has tried various appeals back in the day. I can promise you this is why. Most authors I've spoken to about this agree reducing your book down to tropes and rep feels Ugh, but unfortunately, it works.

3. The discussion around it, and the writing of marginalised identities, so often turns hostile and exclusion based. "I hate when a character says they're asexual it should only be hinted at" do you know how long it could only ever BE hinted at?

4. Obviously the execution varies and should make sense. Of course it's off if a very historical novel suddenly uses modern slang. Of course it can be cringe. Of course it can suck. Okay.

5. But how much are you actually encountering stuff like this in your reading, versus seeing people complain and agreeing "that sounds like shit"? It's... a vastly overstated problem.

6. You guys need to read more indie books, where you can find all kinds of representation, subtle or explicit.

7. Every post on the topic is full of notes just talking about Hell Followed With Us. I agree that book was pretty silly with its post-apocalyptic cast fighting over identity politics but also if any group was going to fight over labels in the angel apocalypse it's pretty realistic for it to be 16 year olds living in a LGBTQ community center. Like tbh. Checks out

[thedrawingduke]

Sorry if you've already talked about this before, but you've mentioned that Daroga/The Persian is incredibly important to the story of The Phantom of The Opera, and I was wondering if you would be willing to share your thoughts on why

The reason I ask is because you inspired me to write my own Phantom story (your Christian and Raoul give me life)

Please feel free to go on as long or short of a ramble as you want, and thank you for your time

I'm so glad you are working on your own Poto iteration! That's awesome <3 Best of luck <3

Oh boy--the man, the myth, the legend: Daroga. I do think he's incredibly important to the story, but I go back and forth on if it is possible to tell an effective Poto story without him. I mean, there have been so many adaptations that leave him out. But, I will argue this: someone always has to fill his shoes!

In terms of characters absolutely necessary for a Poto story (imho): you need an Erik, a Christine, and a witness/detective. Which...come to think of it...if I had to chose between Daroga and Raoul to fill that 3rd spot..........like if I could only chose one.....it wouldn't even be a competition, tbh. Funny to think about in hindsight because there was almost no Raoul in Fantomestein for this exact reason. I love that little guy, but there was a good while where he just Did Not Exist until I could come up a compelling enough reason for him to. :D

This is a tangent, but the way I see it: Christine doesn't need Raoul--but she does want him, and that's kind of the point. He's a tangible representation of freedom, an alternate future...but with the comfort and kinship of a shared past. I could write a whole essay on them and their dynamic--its fascinating (and very gothic in its own right)....but my Point is, you could arguably swap Raoul for any number of connections to "the real world" or freedom or symbology and I think the story would still work just fine.

The Daroga, on the other hand, is able to do so much in a short period of time (relatively, in the book). I feel like a car salesman talking about him--a lot of bang for your buck! The value on this guy! In no particular order:

He is practical, but deeply compassionate (for all parties).

Thus, he's a perfect foil for not only Erik but also Raoul AND Christine.

His pragmatism tempers/adds humor to Raoul's impetuous Loverboy-behavior (and let's be real, Raoul was not getting into/surviving that lair without intervention).

His relationship with Erik leaves room for intrigue whilst demystifying Erik just enough to establish how capable and dangerous he is. Does wonders for the world building and setting of the stakes.

His presence confirms (and he explicitly states) that Christine's compassion for Erik was not pure naiveté but perceptive, and virtuous--two qualities that everyone else (some readers included) doubted her capacity for! He forever has my allegiance for that last one.

There is so much that I don't think would've worked at all without him, both as a device and a person. He brings a level of nuance to the story that is refreshing and frankly necessary (especially when the topics of deformity/disability are on the table). I just think its a little bit of a shame, a little bit uncurious of so many adaptations to leave him out. I have had the best time crafting my own Daroga and I can't imagine Fantomestein without him so maybe I am just partial.

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi! long time listener, first time caller - before i get to my questions i wanted to thank you for making this blog, it's an excellent resource and i appreciate the work you've put into it. you've got a great tone for academic writing, your posts are very accessible without feeling like they're simplifying the topics discussed. first off, i'm working on worldbuilding for a fantasy setting and while my main focus has been on the usual medieval European inspiration i want to incorporate other cultures into it, but i'm wary of appropriation - i've thought about taking inspiration from African cultures and folklore, though i'd also be interested in including African American elements as well. are there any things on that front you'd like to see in a fantasy setting? any things you'd want avoided or left alone? secondly, i have a character who spends most of the story in a human form but is secretly a dragon shapeshifting as a human. as a human she appears as a Black woman, and i have a few concerns about some implications that could arise from that: the main thing that worries me is that her being non-human is an important part of her character, specifically that she struggles to understand human emotions and socialization - she's very smart in an academic sense but struggles when it comes to relating to others, mainly due to the fact that she's lived for thousands of years which makes human problems seem trivial due to how short-term they are to her. she does care about people, but their shorter lifespans also make her wary of growing too close to anyone - a large part of her character arc is her starting to care about another character (also a Black woman) and becoming invested in her life despite how much shorter it'll be in comparison. sorry for how long this got, i really appreciate any advice you have and i hope you're having a good day.

I wouldn't say there's anything I'd want to see- at least not from a nonblack author, tbh- but if you want to do your reading on Black American folklore, I would highly suggest looking into this at your library:

I grew up on this book!

Was a huge fan of Anansi, a Ghanian folklore figure whose stories made it throughout the diaspora. Brer Rabbit used to stress me out, which was the point so 🤣

As for your next section, I assume you've read the rest of my lessons, and all I can really say is apply. There's nothing you've said that wouldn't work the same as any nonblack character in that specific scenario. As you ask yourself about your character's motivations, ask yourself how it would be perceived under the scope of Blackness, and if that's something you are capable of addressing with care!

[inlovewithl3vi]

Wait till the boys learn my joints can predict the weather. 😆

(Feel free to ignore this! I just thought of this after reading what you wrote for my last message)

-bad joint anon

ok totally off topic I think that the name "bad joint anon" is hilarious!

also please never expect me to ignore an ask I literally love getting asks!!!!!!!!!!!

I thought about this too tbh lmao. mostly since growing up my grandparents and parents could smell when it was gonna rain and I fear that I have actually developed the ability to do so too.

My mom also can somewhat predict the weather too so I kinda get this (she has arthritis so yk) so I'm just gonna use the fact that her bones start to hurt when its gonna rain or when its getting colder. sorry if that's not how it works for you! anyway I'll shut up and write-

"you can what?!" Asmo looked at you, clearly surprised. "My joints predict the weather." you responded, not looking up from your DDD. you had mentioned only a few minutes before that its probably gonna rain tomorrow, when asked you had to explain that you could quite literally feel it in your bones. "how does that even work? do humans have magic I didn't know about? Solomon never mentioned this to me..."

you set your phone down to explain a little more. "remember how my joints sometimes pop or crack? yeah well sometimes my bones kinda just start to hurt when its gonna rain. I don't know how it works, it just does." Asmo nods as Satan walks in. "Oh! Satan! did you know the humans body predicts the weather?" Satan looks up from the book he was holding and glances over at you. he raises an eyebrow before speaking. "really? how so?"

of course then you have to answer all his questions (and point out every inaccuracy in human anatomy books from the devildom)

The next day, before you head out to RAD you glance out the window and see a nice light rain. you sigh and grab your umbrella from your bag, already prepared. "MC! you were right!" you glance behind you as you start walking to see Asmodeus dragging Solomon with him as he runs up to you. "It is raining!" he laughs slightly as him and Solomon fall into pace with you, continuing to walk to RAD.

Bonus: Diavolo gets really concerned about this when you tell him, more so than the brothers (mostly since the brothers have had some human interaction but Dia was mostly kept only in the castle). He genuinely freaks out when your joints crack or when you tell him its gonna rain or snow and it actually does. He'll get used to it (eventually) but till then he's gonna have a small heart attack anytime your bones make any sort of noise. (even if its normal)

[bravevulnerability]

I’m not sure if you still take prompts but tbh, I don’t even care, can you write anything you want? Doesn’t have to be long! Just craving some good caskett 😭

A/N: I was either reading a book or watching a tv show, I can't recall, but the simple words of "I'll leave early" got stuck in my brain and shot this idea into my head. Set during 4x19, ‘47 Seconds’, initially before any confessions unknowingly occur on the other side of an interrogation room window. 

-

The knock on the door startles him, has him jerking out of his chair and bumping his hip on the edge of the desk. 

Castle curses under his breath, winces, but carries on into the living room, to the front door. 

It’s late, after midnight, and he hasn’t been able to calm his mind. All he can think about is the victims of the bombing, their loss of life, of opportunity, and how it has selfishly caused him to reflect on those areas of his own life. On Kate. 

He’s going to tell her tomorrow. He has to. What if - god forbid - the world were to end for him the way it did for all of those people today, and it would do so without Kate Beckett knowing he loved her? What if the time they had was so much shorter than they could imagine? What if-

Castle feels the color drain from his face, all of the bravado leaving him, as he swings the door open.

“Beckett,” he greets softly, self-consciously smoothing down the tortured strands of hair that have flown this way and that from the restless push of his fingers. 

She’s in his hallway with her hair falling in those gentle waves around her shoulders, her face devoid of makeup and an NYPD sweatshirt engulfing her slim frame. Kate offers him a weak twitch of her mouth.

“Hey, Castle.” Her voice is soft but gruff, as if it hasn’t been used in hours. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” he assures her, stepping back and gesturing for her to come in. Her eyes flicker around the darkened space, as if ensuring his daughter isn’t at the counter, or his mother on the couch. “I was up, trying to write, but after today… I just couldn’t get out of my head.”

The door clicks quietly behind them and he steps up to her side, catches the haunted glimpse of her eyes gravitating back to him. The warm glow of his office beckons them forward, offering privacy and familiarity. She's never said as much, but he thinks she favors his office, the comforting walls of books and the sofa she often curls up on when she stays late to theorize over cases or plot points for his novels.

“Yeah.” She nods, twisting her fingers together in front of her as she follows him inside. He eases the office door closed. Just in case. The last thing he needs is Alexis's scrutinizing gaze peering in. His daughter means well, he knows, but on the topic of Kate, he hopes to maintain some distance. “I know the feeling.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” he tries, sensing there is more to her visit than she is letting on. 

“No,” she admits. “I just - it’s this case. I kept seeing their faces, the crime scene, the senselessness of it. I keep thinking of the victims’ loved ones, what it’s going to do to them.” 

Castle tilts his head, understanding but still curious. Her eyes fall to her feet, the worn toes of her sneakers peeking out from her jeans. 

“It’s selfish, but it - it made me think of what my shooting did to the people I care about, that I love.” She purses her lips and exhales a breath that quivers. “I don’t think I ever apologized to you. Well, beyond the first time I saw you again after your book signing in the fall,” she murmurs, tentatively lifting her gaze to meet his. “For what I put you through.”

“Kate,” he huffs, but she catches the hand he tries to use to wave her off. He stares down at the slim curl of her fingers around his, the kiss of her thumb to the heart of his palm. “You didn’t put me through anything, you were shot. Besides, I’m one of the lucky ones. You’re here.”

“You know what I mean.” Her eyes harden, a fierce hazel, emboldened. “The summer, and… this. The missed opportunities and lost time. The waiting.”

His brow hitches, surprise rippling through his senses. Sure, they’ve talked around his unspoken vow to wait for her, their conversations always edging on everything shy of committing to one another without saying any actual truths. He’s not used to blatant honesty between them.

His hand relaxes within the grasp of hers, their loosely knotted fingers dangling in the space between them.

“I just - I know it’s not necessarily what you signed up for-”

“Beckett, it’s exactly what I signed up for,” he chuckles, tugging gently on their hands and drawing her a step closer. She has to lift her eyes to him without her heels, her vulnerability alive and shimmering in her gaze just a few inches below. “From the first day we met, I signed up for you.”

“We were different then,” she huffs, shaking her head, but he squeezes her hand.

“Yeah, but maybe we’ve been changing for the better.” He shrugs, watching a sliver of hope slice through her pupils. “Maybe the last four years were necessary, to prove we were capable of growing together. Seems worth waiting for to me.”

Kate’s lips quirk, white teeth appearing to contain the smile. 

“You always know how to say something reassuring,” she sighs, but her eyes are dancing with light for him. 

“Plus, you’re only the hottest detective in existence, so I’d be stupid to give up so easily-”

She smacks him with her free hand, her laughter quiet and mingling with his. He catches the other hand at his chest, coats her knuckles with his palm, and feels hers come to a cool rest over his heart. Kate’s laugh gentles into a sigh, her body swaying towards his, and then she’s releasing the hand that was holding his. Her arm snakes around his waist instead, her embrace tentative.

Rick's arms automatically wind around her, the movement as natural as breathing. He feels the sink of her body into his, the exhale of tension against his collarbone as she tucks her forehead against his neck. 

“I love you, Kate,” he whispers, feeling the terror and exhilaration commingling within his chest as the words escape. He expects her to tense, to draw away, but she remains against him. Still, unspeaking, and possibly not breathing, but in his arms with her fingers curled into the t-shirt at his back. “I don’t need you to be ready to say it back, but I don’t want you to forget, to doubt. I’m here.”

Her arm tightens around him, her fingers curling at his chest, as if she could hold fast to the heart beneath her hand. They remain like that for a long moment and he takes the time to appreciate the shape of her in his arms, the scent of her shampoo in his nose, and her nuzzled cheek against his clavicle.

"I don't want you to doubt either," she murmurs, the heat of her breath rushing over the flesh of his throat.

Kate gingerly lifts her head, dark lashes rising and eyes finding his. Her hand splays at the small of back, her fingertips brushing his spine. He swallows hard, begging his heart to steady before she feels the gallop of it between their bodies.

"You're not alone in this, Rick." A tender smile graces her lips, encouraging yet shy. Her eyes fall to his mouth, linger for a moment too long before fluttering back to his gaze. "And I don't think the wait is for much longer."

"N-no?" He clears his throat, watches her smile grow, and he can't help it. He touches a hand to her jaw, unfurling fingers along her cheek, and watches in amazement as she leans into the cup of his palm.

"No," she confirms, covering the back of his hand with one of hers, holding it there as she turns her head and brushes a kiss to his palm that sends a jolt of electricity up his arm.

"Kate," he sighs, giving into the compromise of pressing his forehead to hers.

"Sorry," she mumbles, abandoning his hand to dust her fingers to his chin. He feels the tips of her fingers trail along his jaw, his eyes fluttering closed as her thumb skims his cheek. "I think I should go."

"It's late," he argues, eyes flickering open to find hers watching closely, bottom lip pinned beneath her teeth again. "Just stay. The guest room-"

"Castle, Alexis and your mom-"

"Something tells me Alexis won't even notice since she leaves for classes at the crack of dawn and my mother won't be up until the clock is flashing double digits."

She's considering it, he can tell.

"Stay," he murmurs, forcing himself to draw back and stealing the hand from his face.

"Castle," she huffs when he begins to drag her towards his bedroom.

"Here," he tells her, letting her go to dig through his dresser, retrieving a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "These should be comfortable, but you're welcome to raid my closet and drawers for other options if-"

She swipes the clothes from him and glowers as she brushes past, heading for his bathroom.

He nervously rearranges his pillows while he waits for her, trying not to pay attention to the sound of running water or the click of the doorknob.

She still looks uncertain when she drops her clothes in the chair beside his bed, her sweater landing on top of his robe, making him stupidly delighted.

"Come on," he says, climbing onto his side of the bed and cutting the lamp lights. He feels the darkness will seal the deal, allow her the courage to crawl under the covers to innocently lie beside him.

He doesn't know when they decided on his room instead of the guest room, but she makes no move to leave now.

He looks anywhere but at her while he slides his legs beneath the comforter, the sheets, and settles onto his back. But his body, his senses, are attuned to her, and he can hear the quiet rustling of her doing the same. When he risks a glance, he can make out the dark mass of her body curled beneath the blankets a few inches away.

"I'll leave early," she breathes into the shadows between them, as if making a promise to them both.

"Kate."

A moment of silence passes and then the mattress is shifting, her body warm and lithe and nestling beside him. He eases his arm around her, feels the welcome weight of her head on his shoulder, the contented sigh of her breath against his neck.

"I'll leave early," she repeats, adamant but soft.

"Go to sleep, Kate," he whispers, resting his cheek against her hair and feeling the restlessness of her quieting.

Her arms curl between them, her cold hands against his ribs, her knees against his thighs. He drifts to sleep savoring the points of contact.

-

When he wakes, Kate is gone. Later, he finds that the shirt he lent her the night before is as well.

-

The next night, when he receives a late knock on his door, he's aware of who will be on the other side and he opens it with anger roiling through his insides.

"You stormed out before I had the chance to explain," she begins immediately, coming into his loft as if she were a storm herself. "I know why you're upset with me, but-"

"Kate, I really think you've said enough today," he cuts her off, keeping his voice low.

It's late, hours since he knows her shift ended. He knows she planned this purposely to avoid his family, to corner him while he was alone.

"What I said to Bobby-"

"Yeah, I already heard it once. I'll pass on a second time," he mutters, locking his front door and leaving her in the entryway.

"Rick." But she follows, of course, chasing him with soft steps to the sanctuary of his office. "It was an interrogation tactic. You're just assuming I was being honest with a suspect," she hisses, easing the office door shut behind her.

Castle crosses his arms and leans back against his desk.

"Fine," he concedes, bitterly. He already knows the answer to his next question, he feels it in his gut, his bones. The horrible truth he's always known. "Do you remember every second of that day? Of being shot?"

Her throat ripples with a swallow, but she exhales steadily, steels herself before she says a word.

"Yes," she confesses, holding his gaze. "I've always remembered."

"Every. Second," he clarifies. Not a question.

Her lips part, the bottom one threatening to quiver ever so slightly. She squares her jaw to stop it.

"Every second," she confirms, her fingers in fists at her sides. "I remember you tackling me, trying to stop the blood, to - to save me."

He casts his eyes away from her, not wanting to remember it, not wanting to recall the feeling of hot blood on his hands, the wide surprise of her eyes, the panicked sound of her gasping for breath beneath him.

"I remember you telling me you love me," she whispers, the words soft but measured. "That was the last thing."

"All this time," he manages, blinking away the horror of those images. "You lied."

"I know," she whispers, exhaling a shaking breath into the silence between them. "I didn't - I didn't know how to face it then. How to be - how to be what I wanted to be for myself, for you. I just... god, Castle. I panicked and if I hadn't been in therapy for the last few months, I'd probably still be lying to you."

He spares a look at her then, the crescents of purple beneath her eyes, the glimmer of moisture making them sparkle in the darkness of the room.

"When I woke up in that hospital room, I didn't feel like a person anymore. The only purpose I've ever felt I had was solving my mother's murder and after the shooting, I didn't think I could survive making room for anything else," she attempts to explain, but he can hear the hitch threatening her throat, the choked sound of her trying not to cry. "I didn't feel worth much else."

Argument bubbles unbidden on his tongue at that, but she speaks first.

"I - I wanted you," she declares, meeting his eyes with a desperation he's never seen in hers. Not for him. "But I didn't feel like I could give what you deserve. I needed to be better first, to heal, to make the room. To acknowledge how important you are to me."

The unshed tears spill over, creating rivulets down her cheeks.

"I love you," she says, but her voice has changed, strengthening with resolve. "I love you, but I wasn't going to screw it up, so I was trying to put in the work. To be more."

Castle doesn't stop her when she takes a step toward him, another.

"I'm sorry." She doesn't touch him, but stands before him, palms up and bare, as if begging. "I should have gone about it all differently, but I - god, I never wanted to hurt you, Rick."

Without thinking, he touches the tear stains on her cheeks, brushing them away with his thumb.

"You don't have to forgive me tonight," she adds softly, staring up at him with tired eyes. "You can stay angry for a while. Just don't - don't give up on me yet."

Shit, she was breaking his heart, siphoning all his resolve.

His fingers slide into her hair, cradling the back of her skull.

"I would never." Her eyes flutter in what looks like relief. "I get it, I do. I just..."

"Hate it," she mumbles, the corner of her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

He shrugs. "I wish we could have done it a little differently, yeah. But I'm not going to hold it against you, Kate, I just need time to process it all."

She nods, her lips pursing resolutely. "Of course."

Her head turns toward the door, but he snags her fingers. She looks to him in askance.

"Will you stay?"

She hesitates. "What about time and space?"

"I didn't say anything about space."

She is not nearly as anxious to crawl into bed with him this time, her body settling beside him without preamble and her arms twining around his torso.

"We're okay, Kate," he promises her, burying the words in her hair as her nose touches his throat and one of her ankles hooks around his.

He rubs her back, tracing the line of her spine through another one of his t-shirts. Eventually, the taut arrangement of bones begins to relax beneath his ministrations and her breathing evens out, her body slack in his arms.

He tries to sleep, but despite all she said, all that has happened over the course of the last few hours, he can't tear his thoughts away from the fact that she loves him. And she said it out loud.

-

Most of the following nights are spent with her appearing on his doorstep or his on hers, the hour often late, but her smile is always worth it. The first time she opened her door to him, after a night of being dressed up for a stint with Colin Hunt - he hated that guy - she was beaming.

"I thought you'd be at home brooding," she'd chuckled, locking the door behind him, pleasing him with her intent to keep him there. "I was about to come to you."

"No, I couldn't wait that long," he admitted, hanging his coat on one of the empty hooks. "I was kinda hoping you'd still be in that dress."

Kate had huffed a laugh, already dressed down in one of the t-shirts she had stolen from him. He had yet to call her out on it because he didn't want to give her a reason to stop.

"Don't worry, Castle," she teased, lifting her hand to his cheek. "I'll save it for another time."

His brow arced at that. "That statement is heavy with implication."

"It was intended to be," she grinned, sauntering to her bedroom.

He had to bring up the case to keep himself occupied after that, but the way she looked at him every time he insulted Mr. Scotland Yard almost made it worse.

Oh yeah, Kate Beckett definitely wanted him. But until she made the next move, he would wait. He wasn't taking any risk of moving too fast when it came to her. Not when he knew this time would be for keeps.

-

The evening they solve the zombie case, she vows to appear at his loft, teasing him that he'll never get that makeup off without her help. He has a laser tag game planned with Alexis that turns into the icing on the cake of his day, with his daughter announcing she will be attending Columbia for college.

Most of his makeup has been scrubbed off, the costume gone, when Kate knocks on the front door.

Alexis glances up from washing the dishes, her brow furrowed. "Were we expecting anyone this late?"

"Just Kate." He tries for nonchalance, but Alexis eyes him with both intrigue and wariness as he starts for the door.

When Castle opens it, she's on the other side as promised. She's changed from her leather jacket and jeans to a soft sweater and yoga pants, looking warm and inviting at his doorstep.

"Oh look, you did a pretty good job," she chuckles, reaching for his nearly cleansed cheek, stroking the bone there.

"I don't know if you'll have better luck," he admits. "Prosthetics and stage makeup leave quite the mark."

"Well," she grins, tapping the bag on her arm. "I brought an extra strength cleanser, so we'll give it a shot."

The water from the kitchen sink is still running, catching her attention. Alexis's presence is likely visible from the doorway, the clinking of dishes going into the dishwasher pointedly loud. He feels nervous but hopeful as he watches Kate determine what to do next.

She lowers her hand from his cheek and bites her bottom lip. "Am I too early?"

"No, not at all." He extends his hand for hers and she slips her fingers into the cove of his, allowing him to guide her inside.

-

"I think she hates me a little less," Kate murmurs, her eyes following the work of the cotton pad she swipes along his skin.

She and Alexis spoke briefly before his daughter went up to bed. Kate had lingered before following him to his en suite bathroom, watching the stairs his daughter had disappeared up with worry lining her face.

"She never hated you," he grunts, wincing when she has to scrub at a spot on his forehead with a little too much vigor. She's been wiping makeup from his skin for the last twenty minutes, standing in front of him while he perched on the edge of his bathtub in his pajamas. "She was upset with me."

"And she's a protective daughter. Trust me, I get it," she assures him gently. Her thumb skims the curve of his eyebrow and he opens his eyes to find her studying him. "I think I should go home tonight, Rick."

He eases his hands onto her hips, watching her brow arch in response.

"I don't want to rush things with Alexis," she elaborates, tossing the cotton pad into the trash and reaching for a clean hand towel.

She dries his face with tender brushes.

"She is unaware you've stayed here at all," he reasons. "I doubt tonight would be any different. Besides, it's late."

"Castle, it's ten," she chuckles, but she hasn't shoved his hands from the resting place of her hipbones. "There's no reason for me to stay."

"No?" He rises slowly from the edge of the tub, holding her gaze the entire time. "What if I need you?"

Her nostrils flare ever so subtly, a tell he's picked up on. She's struggling to ignore him.

"Cuddling is part of our healing journey, Beckett."

She rolls her eyes and shoves on his chest, but doesn't fight the tug of his hand on her arm, the offering of his clothes, his bed.

-

Castle's eyes flutter open. It's barely light out and it's early, he can tell that much upon waking. But something has woken him, the featherlight dance of a touch to his cheek.

As his vision focuses, he sees Kate lying beside him, her fingers migrating from his face to comb through his hair.

He hums and shifts closer to her, burrowing into the warmth of her body.

Her arms wrap around his neck while his band around her spine. Their legs are tangled and her lips are moving against his ear.

"I gotta go," she whispers, turning her head to graze a kiss to his temple.

He sighs and loosens his grip on her, allows her to untangle their limbs.

"See you in a few hours?" she murmurs, one of her hands still reluctant to leave him, draped along his jaw.

"Of course," he yawns, gazing up at her from his pillow.

She bites her bottom lip for a second before leaning forward, lingering there before tilting her head, dusting her mouth to his. Instantly, his senses come alive under the electricity of her lips.

Castle's arms stall in their retreat from her body, reclaiming their hold on her again.

A smile blooms on her mouth before she's kissing him with more confidence, fitting the curve of her lips to his. He hums in response, kisses her back, and feels her body canting into his.

"Mm, Beckett, you make it hard to let you go," he grumbles, feeling more than hearing the rumble of her laughter.

She stains another kiss to his mouth, mumbling a last farewell against the corner of his mouth before regretfully pulling her body from the bed.

-

The storm batters against his windows, lightning illuminating his office as he deletes the murder board on his screen, Kate's face disappearing with the tap of his fingers.

They fought last night in her apartment, his love for her used like a bargaining chip for her life, and it wasn't enough.

He's done. He loves her with a fierce strength and softness, in ways he's never loved anyone else, but he can't watch her throw her life away.

It'll just hurt more.

No, he would rather try and gain as much distance as he can before he gets the call that Kate has become the latest to fall victim to the Dragon's wrath.

The knocking on his door begins with vigor.

He pauses, unsure. His first thought is that it must be Kate and the last thing he wants is another argument. But, it could also be Alexis. He turned his phone off after the third consistent ring with Kate's number flashing across the screen. What if his daughter needed him?

Shit.

He curses himself for his ignorance, vowing to turn the phone back on as soon as he checks the door.

Rick composes his expression, ensuring he doesn't look as hassled as he feels, not wanting to alarm his daughter on her special night if it is her.

He unlocks the door, tugs it open, and feels all of that hard work immediately fall, frown returning instantly at the sight of Kate Beckett.

She's soaked to the skin, dripping rain all over the carpeted hall of the building and the entryway to his loft.

"Beckett," he sighs, his fingers already clenching around the door's edge. "What do you want?"

"You," she whispers, breaching the slim space the door allows and reaching for him.

His body betrays him, moving too slowly to block the ascent of her hands to his face, the rise of her body into his, the adamant press of her mouth.

"You had that," he grunts into her kiss before prying her hands from his cheeks. But he doesn't let her go, he can't. So he holds her captured wrists to his chest, studies the desperate features lining her face, the trembling form of her body. "What happened?"

"He got away," she rasps, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "And I didn't care."

Traitorous hope seeps through the cracks of his heart.

"I almost died and all I could think about was you," she breathes, her head shaking as her gaze roams his face, taking him in as if seeing for the first time. Seeing him clearly. "I'm so sorry, Castle. You were right and I'm - I'm sorry."

Her wrists rotate in his loosened grasp, fingers climbing to bridge at the back of his neck. Her toes arch, lifting her body to meet his, allowing her lips to ghost over his.

"I love you." The words sound sacred falling from her mouth onto his. "I'm sorry I didn't treat you like it."

He suffers only a split moment of indecision - he loves her back, he always will, even though she scares the shit out of him.

Castle layers his mouth over hers, swallows the moan she exhales at the bruise of his kiss, the surge of his body using hers to shut the door. Kate cradles his head in her hands as he kisses her, the tenderness of all the nights before, of the last kiss she graced him with, gone in favor of the brutal fall of his mouth upon hers, the needful crush of his bones into hers.

She doesn't seem to mind, every scrape of his teeth, press of his palm, and grip of his fingers being returned with fervor.

His hands tangle in her hair, wet and dripping down his bare forearms, tilting her face upwards. She gasps when his tongue slides past her parted lips, swiping along hers and exploring the cove of her mouth like he's always wanted to. They've kissed like this before, frenzied and frantic in a darkened parking lot under the ruse of saving Ryan and Esposito, but there was still an ounce of restraint alive then. She had a boyfriend and he was desperate to show her how good they could be together, but they were allowed so little time, so much uncertainty.

Not tonight.

Her head drops back against the door as he skates lips and teeth along her jaw, down her neck. Her arms are clinging to him, her hips clashing with his, as if she can't keep him close enough.

He slows, though, when he reaches the bared flesh of her chest, the scarred skin between her breasts. His thumb skims the spot with reverence, his lips dust there next, feeling her shudder beneath him.

She whimpers as he travels his mouth up her skin, teeth nipping at her collarbone, tongue slicking along the rain coated flesh of her exposed shoulder, her throat.

"Rick," she breathes, the fingers of one hand fisting in his hair, the other slipping between them to yank at the buttons of his shirt.

Castle slides his hands down her sides, her hips, and curls them around her thighs. She's ready when he lifts her, using her toes to hop into his arms.

He chuckles as her arms wrap around his neck and she flips her hair to one side, angling her head to kiss him again.

"Eager, Beckett?" he smirks into her mouth, digging his fingers into her ass as she takes his bottom lip between her teeth.

"Yes," she admits without hesitation, letting him go for a split second to shrug the sopping leather jacket from her shoulders.

It hits the floor with a wet slap, but he can't be bothered to care. She smiles into the next kiss she lays upon his mouth, her happiness tasting like champagne bubbles on his tongue.

"You really love cuddling with me, huh?"

She laughs, tightening her thighs around his waist as they start for his bedroom.

"I plan to do more than cuddle with you tonight, Castle." Her thumb traces the bone of his cheek. "Think you can handle it?"

Her eyes are sparkling, gold flashing excitement rippling through her irises.

Castle kicks the door of his office shut with his foot and carries her into the bedroom.

"The real question is, can you? If you're planning to be up with the sun-"

"No," she cuts him off, kissing him quickly before he can lower them to the bed. He bends to lay her across the mattress, the bracket of her thighs drawing down him into the cradle of her hips. "I don't plan to leave early."

"Oh?" he muses, brushing back the damp strands of hair from her cheeks.

Her fingers thread through his hair, trickle down his neck, and trail along his spine, sending a shiver through him. Her eyes wander across his face, as if studying every feature, lips settling into a soft smile.

"I want to stay," she whispers, like it's a secret.

"Then please," he murmurs, resting his forehead to hers for a moment, breathing into the thin space between them. "Stay."