#i realise this makes it sound as if my parents were dead THEY ARE NOT but you get the gist

[vox-fantasma]

i think i was born for a blue-collar job actually. office jobs make me want to die but manual labour is so life-affirming

[sp4ceboo]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris has no reason to hang out with girls if there's no fucking involved — but it's a little different with shy!reader.

the subway car is fairly quiet, the faint hum of the train along the tracks the only sound breaking the stillness. a few strangers occupy random seats, each absorbed in their own world — some listen to music through plugged-on earphones and bluetooth headphones, some are busy reading their books, turning their pages softly, and others have surrendered to their tiredness, their eyes closed, heads leaning against the cool metal poles or the windows.

you're sitting on one of the wall seats beside chris, your anxiety bubbling beneath the surface as your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, a nervous habit. your leg bounces restlessly, tapping against the hard floor as you glance up at the digital clock on the train's schedule, the late hour staring back at you.

now, you don't have a curfew at all — but you've always been mindful of getting home at a reasonable hour to avoid worrying your parents, and with your phone dead and unable to call them about your whereabouts, a wave of unease washes over you at the thought of getting into some sort of trouble.

chris is calm and relaxed beside you, his legs comfortably spread, knee bumping against yours as the train ways. his head rests back on the wall, eyes closed, while he chews on a stick of a lollipop that he devoured minutes ago, the muscles in his jaw twitch with each chew.

spending the entire day together was a little odd. you were originally heading to the city alone (after mustering up the courage when your friends had told you they all had plans) and you had bumped into chris on the way into the station. he was straightforward with his questioning, wondering why someone as shy as you would go to the big city alone, before announcing that he was coming with you.

the two of you spent the day walking the busy streets of the city, going into your favourite little thrift stores — which you felt embarrassed with when chris followed you inside instead of heading to a different store, making small comments under his breath and snorting at the little trinkets he came across. when he had led you towards the large stores, the price tags that made you squirm, you trailed behind like a little puppy, feeling out of place.

and when you went to go eat, that's when time had seemed to go by so quickly. you were enjoying yourself in the markets, eating delicious foods at stalls that left your stomach full — although you definitely made some room when chris brought you to one of his favourite dessert stalls, sharing a chocolate fudge and cherry sundae.

"will you fuckin' stop, kid?" chris grumbles suddenly, interrupting you from your memories of today, and your eyes flit to him. his hand lands firmly on your knee to stop your restless bouncing. "you're pissin' me the fuck off with your thumpin'... like a fuckin' rabbit, jesus christ."

"sorry." you whisper an apology, warmth riding to your cheeks as you try to steady your nerves, but it only spikes when you realise chris' hand remains on your knee.

"you need to relax, a'ight? because you on edge right now is.. well, it's makin' me all fidgety 'n shit. just relax... breathe," he tells you as he shifts, his head rolling to the side to meet your gaze, his eyebrows scrunched. "seriously, kid, what's got you all jumpy? huh?"

"it's late," you murmur quietly, glancing at the digital clock once again.

"late?" chris echoes, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "what? don't tell me that you got a curfew or some shit?"

"no, no," you shake your head. "it's just that... i always make it home at a certain time so my parents don't have to worry about me, and not only did i go into the city today, but my phone is dead too. i'm really worried that they've been trying to call me and—"

"okay, okay, okay," chris interrupts your rambling, a huff escaping his lips as he shifts his hips, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "you know your parents' number, yeah? jus' call from my phone, kid. tell 'em you got busy and your phone died — it's easy."

you nod slowly, taking a much more relaxed breath as you accept his phone to do just that. chris scoffs quietly, resuming his chewing on the lollipop stick while squeezing your knee, before slumping his head down nonchalantly on your shoulder, listening as you speak to your parents — completely unaware of you trying to keep your voice steady and ignoring the flurry of butterflies through your stomach at the close proximity.

© STURNIOZ

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀SKATER.ᐟMATT × RICH.ᐟREADER

RICH.ᐟREADER ,, cheetah print. takes no shit. expensive taste. silver jewelry. fur, fur, fur. lip gloss. megan thee stallion coded. always got a sassy comment. knows all the drama. still sheltered despite everything. bad bitch.

SKATER.ᐟMATT ,, beanies. backwards caps. baggy everything. cuts and bruises from skating. never not wearing rings. scratches your initials on the back of one of his boards. dominic fike coded. snarky & sarcastic.

NOTES ,, thank u to bae @lovesickgrlsrh0t for planting these brainworms in my head i fear these two are my literal faves atm </3 also the triplets hit 7m n im so proud of them 😞💓 MDNI thank u

YOU'D KNOWN OF MATT BECAUSE OF A MUTUAL FRIEND. the friend was someone you'd gotten to know at a party, not exactly in your crowd, but the party was one with various people who dabbled in various things. you liked the friend, yeah, and they talked about a friend of theirs called matt, often. a skater, like.. one of those types to get caught trespassing on private property whilst hanging out, or something. not the type to attend nice galas and drink the finest wines in fancy ass outfits.

so you hadn't really cared about him, no. he was just a guy you knew of. and to matt, you were just some stuck-up socialite who he'd happened to go to school with since kindergarten. he didn't hate you, no, but like.. he wasn't exactly fond of you. he wasn't into the whole high life you associated yourself with. so it was obvious: the two of you were total opposites and wouldn't interact ever. especially since it was senior year, why would you in the first place?

turns out, it was actually quite simple. you'd been skipping class, as per usual, but had gotten caught this time. matt hadn't completed his coursework. now? detention, for the both of you. you'd most definitely considered skipping detention, since you had other engagements to attend, but you knew your parents wouldn't let you attend any other engagments for the rest of your senior year if you did. you're very clearly upset about detention, a pout adorning your glossy lips, your eyes fluttering around with not an ounce of enthusiasm.

it was just you and matt, you quickly realise. you stare at him for a minute, eyes narrowing. this catches his attention, and he cocks a brow as he glances up at you, "you get detention for havin' a starin' problem or what?" he's blunt, almost dead pan, rolling his eyes at the sight of you just.. staring at him. this makes your brow furrow, "that ain't no way to treat someone you've never talked to before, is it? jeez." you scoff under your breath, folding your arms over your chest. not wanting to act all petulant infront of the.. barely even a teacher, it's some substitute.

matt's quiet as he watches you sit down, the way you sit a far bit away as if being next to him will degrade the expensive material of your outfit. a scoff escapes him, in a similar fashion to your own, and he shakes his head, glancing away. you have this tendency to.. well, not shut up, so you start whining under your breath about how you were supposed to be at some gala, mingling with other stuffy, rich people but you were here. with him.

matt's just watching you, completely baffled and amused by you. it was absolutely so shallow of you and pretty vapid, ut he found himself a little intrigued. his eyes liked what he was seeing, you're pretty, super pretty. you dress like you know it too. "uh," he starts, "you didn't ask for my two cents on the whole.. gala thing, and i know i ain't the type to even be goin' anywhere near those things, but—could always pay someone to go for you. you got the money, don't you?" that causes a silence to settle over you, and you're quiet for a minute.

but then you burst out laughing, a sound that matt knows he wants to hear more of. he tries to hide a small smile, but then you're switching up on him the instant you realise you're laughing at something he'd said. "i got the money, but i ain't payin' someone to enjoy the time i was going to. defeats the whole purpose, dumbass." the smile switching to a glare damn near gave him whiplash. his brow furrows once more, and he raises his hands in surrender.

"shit, okay, okay, keep whinin' then," god, he didn't understand you, not at all. you were something, alright. "..'n' who're you callin' a dumbass?" he mumbles under his breath, sighing as he glanced back at the ceiling once more. giving you a quick glare, in return, that ends your conversation quite abruptly. but both of you are intrigued by eachother, clearly.

"you look so out of place here, kid," matt can't help but laugh at you. the said mutual friend from before had invited you to some party at some random guy's house. a birthday party, or some shit. a total lapse of judgement on your part, you knew, and you'd literally snuck out of your parent's place to be there. why the fuck did you do that for? you looked so out of place, he was right. you're stood there like even touching a single thing'll kill you on the spot.

you glare at him instantly, folding your arms under your chest which instantly draws his attention down to your cleavage. you notice, of course, hating the way a warm feeling bubbles in your stomach from how he looks at you. "don't remember ever askin' for your input," your head tilts, "just 'cause you got a pretty face don't mean you needa' go 'round stickin' your head where it don't belong."

"you think i got a pretty face? how sweet," he sticks his tongue out, a soft smirk gracing his lips. he looks good. dark tufts of hair stick out from beneath his beanie, the colourful lights set up causing a nice sheen to glow down onto his face. you're not crushing on him though—no, no. he's just some skater. he could never give you what you want. "c'mon, relax a little," he says his words soon after his first few just so you don't get a chance to snap at his cocky remark, catching you off guard.

"i don't know anyone here," you mutter under your breath, fiddling with your expensive necklace, once again drawing his attention downwards. he's pretty sure you're doing it on purpose now, honestly, since you keep doing it. those nails.. he's imagining them wrapped around other things, that's for sure. "you know me," his voice is a little gentler, and he nods over to the kitchen where beer pong is set up, "it'll be fun. loosen' you up a lil' bit." you're skeptical for a moment, but you nod, making your way over with him.

he has to say, he's into how quiet you get when you're somewhere out of your comfort zone. you're not as mouthy, or annoying. as much as he loves your banter, the flirty insults between you two, well.. he likes you like this. "you've never played beer pong?" matt's literally gasping, staring at you like you're insane.

your face scrunches up at that, "well, yeah. no one's playin' beer pong at a party where they serve scotch—" you shake your head, sighing. he wanted you to loosen up? you'd loosen up. he gives you a look as if to say chill out, before he laughs quietly when you do, in fact, chill out. "i'll teach you. s'easy." his voice is easy, low. and you notice how close he's stood next to you. "you're a quick learner, m'guessin'."

"sure," you roll your shoulders in a shrug, glancing at the beer pong being set up for another round before you look back at matt. "yeah," you affirm after a minute. matt glances at you with a soft, incredulous look before he shakes his head. "c'mon, i don't bite. neither does the beer. at least, it shouldn't." you're calming down with him already, he likes that a lot too.

you'd had another total lapse of judgement, surprise surprise, having been swayed by the inarguably nice night with matt and his stupid, pretty face into becoming fuck buddies. perhaps not your finest moment, but definitely your most pleasurable. he makes you feel good, so, so good. takes away your stress from all your parents expectations, makes you feel taken care of. you two aren't exactly friends with benefits, more like.. people who know eachother, like acquaintances with benefits. but fuck buddies suits you two better.

it'd started off as getting together once, meeting at another party and giving into the raw attraction between you two. he'd had you beneath him, your legs wrapped tight around his hips as he bucked up into you with a brutal pace. his hands grasped at the bed around your head, a bed in which he had no idea whose it was. hey, he needed you, real bad. the logistics of everything hadn't crossed his mind once. "need you," you'd whined, voice breaking a little with how loudly you'd been crying out his name.

"you're gettin' me, baby," he grunted, grasping at the bed a little tighter as you clenched around him, practically trapping him there. his eyes lift up to yours, a flush covering his face at how damn good you feel. "what d'you want?" he growled, all breathless and heavy, like even speaking took a lot out of him. "need you, ah—after this, too," you couldn't have him just once, that wouldn't be fair. he felt too fucking perfect to only have once.

matt laughs quietly, realising you're on the verge of just babbling from how deep he's fucking you. "shh, sh, i got you," he murmured, lowering his head down to yours to press his lips down against yours to ensure you wouldn't keep talking. between kisses, he whispers, "gonna have me whenever you want, baby. whenever you want." that had you practically squirting, thighs trembling as the movements of his hips stuttered.

he kept up his promise, and whenever you wanted him, you got him. matt didn't want to seem desperate, but he was starting to like you, a lot. those snarky comments and bitchy glares started turning into fond looks and quiet compliments. he wasn't soft on you, he really didn't want to be—but there he was, letting you practically walk all over him in those expensive heels. it wasn't until a certain moment where you realised you felt the same as he did. he fell first, but god damn it, did you fall harder.

matt's buried so deep inside you, all you can think about, all you want to think about is him. he's overwhelming in the best way, having told you to keep your eyes on his or else he wouldn't give you what you wanted. "eyes on me, baby, wanna see those pretty eyes," he murmured, your legs hiked up onto his shoulders as opposed to his hips this time. you two had been in many different positions with eachother, sure, but this? how close he is? how he's balls deep inside your cunt? can't think straight.

you lift your eyes to his, swallowing thickly as another whine rips from your throat. he coos softly, "there you are. there's my girl," his girl? you're his girl? he's being so soft, and loving, nothing like he's been before or you've ever had before. it's making you feel some kind of way and it feels wrong, but so right at the same time. "makin' such pretty sounds, lookin' so lovely like this.. you take my dick so well."

"matt—" you gasp softly, trying to bring yourself as close as possible with a swivel of your hips forward. matt groans, his head falling down into the crook of your neck as he slides his hands down to grasp at your thighs. just the feel of the callouses on his hands from various skating accidents has you squealing and whining beneath him. "so good, shit, oh, oh—right there, riiight there.."

"right there? right there?" matt drives himself deeper within you, whining into your skin. his nose brushes against your soft skin, grunting under his breath with each thrust forward of his hips. "i've got you, c'mon, cum 'round my cock for me, let it go, there she is, that's it.." he's thrusting up into you through your orgasm, holding you as close as possible, and even with the pleasure clouding your brain, you're realising that you're most definitely in love.

maybe it's the slow drag of his cock against your walls, as he takes a slower, steadier approach to pounding you into the bed—maybe it's his sweet words, you don't know, but all of it coming together? you're in love.

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @https--roman, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7 ִ ꒱

[scarlet2007]

⊹ ₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ Late night talks ₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Batman x reader / Bruce Wayne x reader.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: After accidentally mistaking Batman as a criminal and spraying him with pepper spray, you both have seemed to form a friendship.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Pepper spray, mention of Gotham being dangerous.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 1.5k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

[ Masterlist ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Bruce has no idea how he got himself into this situation. Or rather... This habit.

It all started on that faithful night.

Walking alone at night in Gotham was like an one way ticket to heaven. A death wish, as some may say.

You sighed, looking around anxiously as you tried to walk as fast as you could. Every flicker of the night light, every random sound was making you jump in terror. You were half convinced that this was going to be your last day on earth.

You were just about to walk past an alley when you saw a shadowy figure stand menacingly at the entrance. The lights were flickering as the lamp above seemed to be surviving off of the happiness of the citizens of Gotham. Obviously, there wasn't much life left in it.

Red alarms started to go off in your head as the figure slowly started to move towards you. The heavy sound of its boot hitting the ground, the sound of your quickened heartbeat, the sound of the pained hissed that left the shadowy figure- Wait... Pained hiss?

It was only then you realised that you had sprayed the shadowy figure, Batman, with the pepper spray you were clutching while walking.

You gasped, staring at Batman in shock. He was hissing at the sudden attack, one of his eye half opened as he stared directly at you.

'I am so dead.'

Your eyes were wide before you shakingly reached into your purse, pulling out a small water bottle as you handed it to him, "I am so sorry! I thought you were some... Some criminal! Oh my- Splash this in your eyes! I am so sorry!" Half of the words sounded like nonsense due to how fast you were speaking.

He reluctaningly grabbed the water, splashing some water into his eyes as the affect of the spray started to subdue.

For a minute or two, nobody said anything as you both just stared at each other.

"What are you doing outside at this hour?"

"I am so sorry!"

Both of you decided to speak at the same time, which made none of you understand what the other person said.

"Come again?"

"I didn't hear-"

And it happened again.

"Speak."

"I am sorry-"

And again.

Finally, Batman seemed to have enough of it as he just stared at you broodingly, making you shut your mouth from fear.

"Why are you out at such an hour?"

You paused at his question, looking at him sheepishly, "Uh... Nightshift..."

Your answer made him raise an eyebrow which you didn't see because of his mask, "You shouldn't walk alone in the streets of Gotham with only a pepper spray as a weapon."

You nodded, looking at the ground as you suddenly felt like a child getting scolded by your parent.

Batman sighed as he stared at your figure, he can't just let you walk around at such an hour. Especially when it looked like you had the survival skills of a limbless cockroach.

"I will walk you home. Lead the way."

And that's how everything started.

"You haven't been paying attention to what I have been yapping about, have you?" You deadpanned, staring at him as he spaced out.

This made Batman blink, coming out of his chain of thoughts as he stared at the bowl of cereal you passed to him.

"Eat."

He blinked again, glancing at you in slight confusion before he started to eat.

He doesn't remember how this became a... Thing. It started out as occasionally walking you home from your nightshifts, then it shifted to him being injured after a rather brutal fight with a criminal near your apartment complex which made you usher him to your house for some patching up and now it has become a habit of Batman to swing by your window every once in a while, whenever he knew you would be awake or knew you had a day off.

You have come out of your shell fully, and now he knows you as the sassy and playful girl he once saved instead of the scared and timided girl.

"Eat up! You look like you have been starving since the dark ages, Mr. Dark knight." He let out an amused grunt at your words, rolling his eyes as he ate the cereal.

It was a comical scene, having him sit in your kitchen in his Batsuit while you lectured him about his poor eating habits in your pastel night gown.

You were an amusing person, a dramatic display of playfulness and sarcasm was always expected from you. Batman has seemed to grow fond of you and your shared time spent together over the past few months as he found himself looking forward to these meet-ups.

He has heard it all, from how much you dislike your job to how much you loved visiting animal sanctuaries to how you once crashed your friend's bicycle into different objects all under 15 minutes.

All these little stories would make him smile slightly while he worked in his Batcave. Alfred has heard all about you as well, the butler seemed to have grown fond of you as well despite never meeting you.

He glanced at you, watching you move around the kitchen as you washed the dishes. A thought passed through his mind.

He could help you.

Imagining him, Batman, helping you wash the dishes in his Batsuit. That would certainly be something you would die laughing at.

He shook his head slightly at the thought, focusing on eating the cereal you had given him.

"So, when are you going to leave your shitty job?" That made you look at him, slightly taken aback by his sudden question.

"Oh... Um... When I find a job that pays the same or more...?"

There it was again. The same answer you always give him. At first, he used to get irritated by your answer but now he understands your point. He knows the financial struggle you have gone through as a child, which has made you very anxious about having no job. All his attempts to help you fell on deaf ears as you firmly stated that you do not want money from your struggling vigilante friend.

He still has no idea why you think he is a struggling vigilante.

Does he look broke to you?

He sighed, glancing at the clock as he saw what time it was. The sun was about to rise.

"Do you have a day-off tomorrow or another night shift?"

You looked up from the dishes, glancing at him, "I have a day-off."

He nodded, walking up the sink to wash his bowl as you stepped aside to make space for him.

This is starting to feel oddly domestic.

"You should head to bed then." This earned a giggle from you as you looked at him with an amused expression.

"Aww, are you worried about my health?" You cooed jokingly as you leaned against the counter.

"You work at odd hours. From 8 pm till 3:45 am, it has to be one of the most ridiculous work hours I have ever heard of." He mumbled, scrubbing the bowl as he pretended to be annoyed at your playful behaviour.

You hummed, nodding your head in agreement before a small yawn escaped you, making Batman give you a 'I told you so' look behind his mask.

"See? You should head to bed." He grumbled, drying the bowl before putting it in its place.

"Alright, alright, I'll head to bed. Just make sure that whenever you leave, you close the window." He nodded as he watched you walked towards your bedroom, stretching as you glanced back at him.

He still has no idea how this has become something so normal to both of you that you just let him stay in your house while you sleep and he knows exactly where the bowl goes in the cupboard.

Bruce sighed as he flipped through the documents and files of the new Wayne enterprise project, his eyes narrowed as the sunlight from outside was starting to bother him. He could almost feel a headache coming in.

It has been weeks since he last saw you, he has been busy with his duties as a vigilante and the owner of the Wayne enterprise to the point he could barely find the time to visit you. Thankfully, you have left your old job for good so he knows that you are at least not walking around the dangerous streets of Gotham at night.

But he still can't help but feel worried about your financial state, to the point that he has voiced it out to Alfred a few times.

He sighed again, glancing at the door as he heard a knock.

"Come in!"

His eyes widened as he stared as you walked in, his new secretary.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. Alfred suddenly pestering him to appoint a new secretary, Alfred going out of his way to personal find him a new secretary. Everything is starting to make sense.

'That cunning old man...'

[kurokawaia]

❛ HE CARES !! ❜

Genin! Sasuke Uchiha X Fem!Genin!Reader

WC; 700+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: same warning as my other genin sasuke work, no triggers apart from sasuke himself, x fem reader, reader is apart of team 7, reader is a genin, reader is a ninja

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) genin sasuke x fem or gn reader where he catches them crying over something(plot is up to you) and tries to comfort them? lots of fluff and maybe hints of a closer relationship? :0 - ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

Sasuke had always been observant.

He didn't say much, but he saw things.

He saw how hard you were training.

He saw you were doing all this for him, but he said nothing, he didn't want to embarrass you.

That must have been why he'd noticed you in the first place, too. You were doing it for him, but you weren't making it obvious; you were yourself.

But today was different.

Sasuke was on his way back from his own training when he saw you sitting beneath a large tree near the training grounds. Hunched over- head resting on your knees, even from a distance, he could hear soft, muffled sounds, crying.

He felt his heart ache.

Sasuke definitely wasn't the type to get involved in other people's problems, but seeing you there, obviously crying and sad. It tugged at his heart in a way he didn't know. Sasuke had no clue what and why his heart was tugging, but he knew it had something to do with you.

He let out a sigh and then and then found himself walking in your direction. His footsteps were light, but you tensed nonetheless at the soft sound of his approach, how did you even know it was Sasuke? You tried to hastily wipe your tears away, praying to God no one caught you in such a state, especially of all people, Sasuke.

"Hey," he said softly.

You looked up, startled, face red and blotchy from crying. "Sasuke?"

He didn't say a word, at first, only knelt before you. "What's wrong?"

You quickly turned your face away, mortified to be caught sobbing, you were mentally slapping yourself. In front of the guy you liked as well? Terrible, you could just hide away in a hole right now.

"Nothing," you mumbled, trying to regain composure. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "Doesn't look like nothing," he said, a little too bluntly and you flinched slightly, at which his eyes slight widened as he realised his tone.

Oh no, he thought, I don't. want to hurt her more.

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes again. "I just. I'm frustrated, okay? It's stupid."

Sasuke said nothing but waited patiently for you to continue. Your eyes widened as you felt that Sasuke was waiting for you to speak, he wanted to know how you were feeling.

Your heart was about to leap out of your chest.

It wasn't just him being in worry, asking about you. but he was also very close to you-your heart won't be able to take it.

"I've been trying so hard, you know? Training, doing my best. But it just feels like. like it's not enough. I'm not getting stronger fast enough." Your voice cracked slightly. "And I just feel. behind. Like I'm never going to catch up."

Sasuke was silent for a moment, working through what you'd said. He wasn't the best with comforting people, he just didn't get much practice with it given his dead parents and sibling, but he did grasp what you were saying.

Better than anyone in the world, in fact. Better than anyone in the world, he knew what it felt like to think you were never catching up.

"You're not behind," he said finally. "Everyone moves at their own pace. It doesn't mean you're weak."

You blinked in surprise.

It wasn't like Sasuke to offer encouragement like that.

He turned away from you, staring off in the distance, his voice softening a bit. "It's not easy. Getting stronger. it takes time. And it's frustrating. But. you're not alone in that. I get it."

And hearing that from Sasuke... Sasuke who had always been strong, always one step ahead of the rest-made something in your chest come undone. It sounded like he really did understand.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Sasuke's gaze relaxed for a moment before he shook his head quickly, almost awkwardly, He was not used to this, speaking this way, being near someone this way.

With you, though, it didn't feel as odd as he had thought it would.

He liked it.

Sasuke thinks that he might even love you.

He said again, this time with a quieter voice. "You're... not weak. You're one of the few people I actually think has potential." Your heart skipped a beat at that.  Coming from Sasuke, that was probably one of the highest compliments you could get. Lifting your head up to his face, you see the soft pink flush on his cheeks which makes your heart stutter.  He cares about you.  Truly, he does.

You didn't know what to say, so you only inclined your head a little farther, your shoulder brushing against his. It wasn't much for the moment, but it would do.

Do not copy, steal, modify, use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

@sugu-love @why-are-you-still-awake

[wintersera]

17 — round 2 (half written)

cw: smut, omega sub!minjeong, dom!reader, elements of ABO (omegaverse)

wc: 1k

6am.

6am and minjeong was not looking too good. that uncomfortable, tingly, aching sensation between her thighs unfortunately woke her up from one of the best rests she’d ever taken.

no matter how hard she tried to suppress her heat, nothing worked. at all. meditation would be the best thing for her to do, but i mean, she’s dealing with her first ever heat and her animalistic mind couldn’t conceive any other thoughts- you could say that her head was occupied, and i mean occupied, with nothing more than rough and hard sex, with you specifically. even staring at you would instantly turn her on till the sheets would be sticky with slick.

in her state of vulnerability, she shook you hard to get you to wake up, not even thinking about your well being whatsoever. she just really wanted you awake, to obviously bend her over and fuck her rough like you did previously last night.

“wake up y/n, wake up” violently shaking you before giving up moments later.

she had to deal with this on her own, but alas, she couldn’t understand how to use her fingers herself, and the only way to toss aside her pains was you, clearly.

you were sound asleep. actually, you were dead asleep. after over exhausting yourself and going beyond your capabilities, it made a lot of sense to why you passed out after you sent your last tweet.

it was painfully silent. minjeong’s rapid heart beat rammed against her chest; her palms clammy as she proceeded to lift off the thick sheets that laid on your resting body.

was this a good idea? maybe not, but whatever, she had to have your fingers and nothing could stop her from using you as her little play thing.

minjeong took your hand and gently laid it on top of the sheets, occasionally glancing towards your face just to check for signs of you stirring awake. your arm fell with a dull thud, minjeong winced at the sound, even though the noise wasn’t loud enough to wake you up.

then she positioned herself, your hand between her legs. minjeong didn’t really know what exactly to do.

“mmm… morning…. huh?” you woke up abruptly. immediately minjeong sprung back out of surprise, her hand resting on her chest as she felt her own hearbeat, checking if it didn’t stop from the shock.

“m-morning” she shyly squeaked out “sorry, just felt-“

you cut her off “tingly again, right?” voice sort of low and husky. although you were barely awake, your body responded to hers. it was kind of like you both were in sync “gimme a minute jeongie, need to wake up for this'' you stretched in her bed before you got up, realising that your arms sort of ache from all the work you put in last night.

“need you now” she growled, grasping your arm and tugging you closer.

“be patient minjeong, let me-” returning the favour from cutting her off, minjeong stood up from the bed to push you back down. her now straddling your waist with a cheeky grin slowly appearing.

“please” her eyes grew a dark red again, like it did the night before. that's when you knew you couldn’t deny her orders.

“are you naturally this horny?” holding her hips and making her press her cunt against your bare stomach.

“naturally” she responded with a mewl. minjeong placed one of her hands on top of yours, indicating that she wanted them off

“in… please” she begged.

“oh cute. you’re lucky it’s a weekend and you’re lucky that my parents aren’t that strict” you chuckle, taking your hand off her hips. she seemed pretty desperate, and well you being gay ass kwon y/n, you couldn’t deny a pretty girls request, even if you didn’t know her like that at all.

you easily flipped her over in a swift motion, cushioning her head and ensuring that she’s comfortable with the position. it was you on top of her again.

“want it that badly?” you teased her. a smug smirk on your face. you couldn’t quite place why, but there was something about her that made you feel so oddly power hungry. just her being under you felt liberating.

“need it so much” the only thing she could say before you slid three fingers inside her cunt. minjeong gasped at the sudden stimulation. for her, it felt relieving. the tingly, achy feeling subsided and was replaced by waves of pleasure.

“you’re such a handful minjeong” you breathed out, swooping down to kiss her neck. she hums in approval, letting you graze your teeth against her sensitive skin.

you push your fingers even deeper inside of her, searching for the spot that made her feel the best. you think you did a good job, her mouth falling open each time you hit that specific spot. her moans gradually became louder and louder… even more louder. with the sounds from her wet pussy and the added on moans, the need to finger her harder was stronger than ever.

minjeong shuddered. her grasp on your arm turned into a painful grip as she kept your hand still while she shut her legs. a harsh moan came from the back of her throat while she cried out your name numerously.

—

back to reality.

you stood in minjeong’s bathroom questioning what had happened in the last twenty four hours. it was a saturday morning as well, which meant that you had the time to reflect on your sinful actions. it’s not like you regretted it, okay maybe you did a little bit. you could’ve gotten to know minjeong a little better before you did that.

you splashed yourself with cold water. shivering as you pat your face dry. unfortunately you slept in your clothes you wore yesterday too. eugh, you felt icky.

just what on earth had happened. somehow you ended up here. with a girl. in an empty house. no parents, no one. just you and her.

to make matters even worse, minjeong was still violently horny. maybe she should get that checked out you thought to yourself.

but now, you had to get an explanation out of her.

or ask to leave.

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TAGLIST (closed)

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[ferigrieving]

when hell freezes over.

⊹ ࣪ in which touya todoroki finds himself.

a.n touya todoroki they could never make me hate you touya todoroki

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; one – 2004 (here) ; two – 2006

touya todoroki was four years old when his quirk developed.

he was not a child born out of love. enji todoroki married out of desperation, an unyielding desire to surpass the current number one. a desire that not only ruined his relationship with his wife, but his children after that. a fire burned bright inside of enji, a fire that left no room to warm the icy relations he harboured with his family

touya’s training began almost immediately, a harsh regimen that demanded more from the boy than his young body could handle. hours not spent eating or sleeping, were spent attempting to foster his newfound quirk.

a quirk his body could not handle.

parents are often overjoyed when their children develop their quirks, proud of the future they now possess as a powered individual. but enji, enji felt nothing but failure and regret when he realised his only son could not manipulate ice the way his mother could. a failure, he would tell him, a disappointment to the todoroki name. nevertheless, he persisted with training, pushing touya further and further everyday.

in the dead of winter, touya found himself on the brink of exhaustion, the world spinning around him as he crawled on all fours, desperate for a break. he felt cold, so unbelievably cold against the biting wind, his flames doing nothing for him in terms of warmth. his father’s voice, sharp, and demanding, rung in his ears, urging him to push harder, to be stronger.

he couldnt do it.

in a fit of anger, he was left, alone, on sekoto peak, with nothing but his weak flame and the stars above to guide him.

“you shouldn't be out here.” a voice spoke. he wondered if he was hallucinating, collapsing on the grass and curling up in a ball. “its too cold.”

he stifled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. his weak flame danced in the wind, threatening to give out at every gust. “i have to train,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “my dad says i need to be strong.”

for a moment, silence enveloped them, the only sounds being the faint sound of crickets, and the soft crackle of touya’s struggling flames. he felt a hand on his cheek, warm to the touch. he didn't know there were physical hallucinations. he’d have to ask his mother about that when he got home. god, would his father let him in?

his eyes opened, wide, and glistening with tears. the hand was real, so real against his skin. the warmth from your touch was new, and never in his life had he ever experienced something quite like it. he leaned into it, a choked back whimper escaping his lips. he wanted more, so much more of that warmth, he could practically feel it seeping into his skin. touya had forgotten what it was like to truly feel warm.

“but you’re just a kid. you shouldn't have to train so hard.”

the voice’s words were a revelation to touya, a concept so alien it felt like a breath of fresh air. he was more than a little surprised when he came face to face with a child his age, wearing nothing but pyjamas in the cold. 

touya couldnt help himself.

he took your hand in his own, holding it against his face, desperate for the warmth. it had been months since anyone treated him with such kindness, treated him like a child, instead of a tool. a person instead of a weapon. treated him like a child.

“what’s your name?”

your voice was soft, softer than any he had ever heard before. without thinking, he pulled you down with him, cold hands wrapping around your wrist in an attempt to feel. “touya.” he’d tell you, watching as you splayed your arms out on the grass below.

the sincerity in your eyes made touya feel.. safe. a foreign concept to him, but something he knew he could always find in you. he snuggled up closer to you, throwing all ideas of a personal bubble out as he seeked out the warmth you seemed to emit.

“what’s yours?”

you told him your name, no louder than whisper, and you watched as he tried it out, stretching each syllable and letter out as if it was a foreign word. rolling over, you laid your hand around his middle, seeking warmth where there was none.

touya leaned into you, seeking your touch. his small body trembled with the cold, his flame dying as he curled closer to you. the warmth from your body was a stark contrast to the ice biting his skin. no one was ever gentle to him, ever warm to him. a soft sob wracked through his body, his hands clenching the material of your shirt.

“why’re ya’ here?” he asked suddenly, the words leaving his mouth before he could really think about what he was saying. his body was stiff in the circle of your arms, not being used to the contact. but in his childish mind, the touch itself was wonderful. warm.

he hoped you weren’t a hallucination, that this dream would not be cruelly snatched away from him once he woke up. no, he wanted to stay like this, stay where it was warm and soft. he tried to press himself closer to you.

“‘m stargazin’.”

“stargazin?” he repeated, tilting his head to the side, causing the fire still faintly lit by his side to bounce back to life, dancing and illuminating the planes of his face.

he glanced up, watching the stars dot across the night sky. a frown tugged at his lips at the sight. it was cold, bitter. the stars were pretty, but that’s all they were. pretty, distant and alone in the dark emptiness of space. tilting his head up properly now, he watched as the stars glittered above them, stretching as far as the eyes could see, some dim, some brighter. 

“what about that one?” he pointed at said star, a small frown on his face. “it’s brighter than the others.”

you followed his gaze to a bright star in the middle of the sky, twinkling sporadically. “that’s the north star.” you murmured. “some people call it sirius. i… think they’re the same thing.”

his eyes widened. he’d heard his mother talk about the north star before, a guiding beacon that always pointed north. he found it interesting how something so small could do something like that.

”it always points north?” he asked, rolling over so he could look at you instead of the stars. “how can it do that?” he paused. “does it get lonely being up there, by itself?”

“i dont think it does.” you turned to face him, taking in his bright, blue eyes. “look at all those stars. would you get lonely with all those friends around?”

a small pout formed on his lips, his face scrunched up in thought. no, he wouldn’t be lonely, not if he was friends with that many stars. he was quiet for a moment, contemplating that idea.

“are you friends with the stars?” he asked, turning to look up at the sky again, watching as they twinkled in the night.

you nodded vigorously, turning along side him to observe the night sky. the stars were clear from where you two lay on the mountain. the moon was full, tonight, peering down at you from where it sat in the heavens above.

after a moment, touya spoke, the words sounding like they were forcing themselves out of his mouth “...do you think i can be friends with them too?”

the question had left his lips before he could stop himself. in a state of vulnerability, he spoke his mind, something he never did. he waited to be ridiculed, for you to laugh in his face and tell him he was being stupid. instead, you were quiet.

he was just a boy, you thought. a boy who should be at home right now, playing with his toys after a good dinner, or watching cartoons curled up on his parent’s lap. a boy who you found crying in the dead of winter at midnight, alone.

“do you wanna be my friend?”

 a part of him wanted to cry, wanted to sob and press himself so close to you and never let go. a part of him wanted to tell you just how desperately he wanted that.

but that part was shoved down viciously, a cold, bitter hatred settling over him.

”i don't need any friends,” he said harshly, forcing his eyes away from your face, and in an instant, the boy you found just moments earlier, was gone.  “i just want to grow stronger.”

you were speechless, blinking at the sudden change of tone. one moment he seemed desperate for validation, and the next he was putting up a wall of cold indifference.

you knew you shouldn’t interfere, that you should just walk away and let the boy wallow in his training. but your heart ached at the thought, at the way his expression shifted from vulnerable to bitter in a matter of seconds.

”you don't have to be angry. you can have friends, and  be strong.” you said softly. “im sure all might has friends, ‘n’ he’s the strongest.”

he paused. all might, the number one hero.

the man himself was so charismatic, so beloved by the public. touya didn't doubt that he had many friends, both heroes, villains and citizens. a frown tugged at his lips, realising that maybe his father was wrong. maybe he didn’t just have to train. maybe he could have time for a friend. or two.

”i dunno…” he said, avoiding your gaze. “i should just focus on training, thats what dad says.”

but then why did he feel so empty all the time? the only thing he focused on was training, training to make his father proud, to get stronger.

it wasn't fun, wasn’t joyful. some days he wondered if he’d ever be happy again, or if he’d be trapped in his father’s cycle for the rest of his life.

maybe he didn’t want that. 

”i…” he repeated, and touya sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. “i gotta focus on training.”

you almost sighed in defeat, watching as his eyes darkened. he was so young, still a child, and yet he seemed so grown up. you hoped you weren't like that.  the frown he wore looked wrong on his round face. you were so tempted to press the issue, but you knew it wasn't your place to do so. touya’s life was not yours to control.

but then he spoke again, almost as if the words were ripped from him, pushing themselves out of his mouth in desperation to find love.

“but.. its okay if its you.”

you paused, tilting your head as you rested on the cold grass on your elbows. an… exception? for you?

“i thought you didnt want friends.” you hummed, staring at him as if he was the most interesting thing in the world.

his frown deeped at your words, eyes narrowing. he’d hoped you’d say yes, no questions asked. he was sick of living a lonely life, a life full of empty training and sharp words. but you were right, he didn’t want friends before, so why was he asking now?

he didn’t want to admit that your presence was bringing back those thoughts. that your touch had woken something inside him, something that cried out for more, for more of your kindness, for more of your touch, for more of your words.

for you.

but he didn’t say that aloud. he couldn’t admit it, wouldn’t dare admit it. not when his father had drilled all his life that friends were a waste, that friends were a hindrance. not when he had spent years with a stone cold heart that refused to feel anything but anger and bitterness. not when he was just a four year old, and all he wanted in that moment was to bury his face in your chest and cry.

”i don’t,” he said, forcing his expression to be as cold and emotionless as possible.

“okay. ‘m sorry for askin’.”

he flinched at the way your voice softened in acceptance, the pit of his stomach twisting unpleasantly. there it was again, that guilt that welled up everytime he did something mean to you.

he didn’t want to be mean, he really didn’t. you’d been nothing but kind to him. but that bitter, dark part of his mind, a voice that sounded a lot like his fathers, kept hissing in his ear.

‘friends are for the weak.’ it would say. ‘they’re a distraction. you don’t need them.’

he almost took it back. he almost shouted, and screamed that he did, in fact, want friends. he wanted friends and kindness and everything he was never allowed to feel. he wanted to be a kid, for once.

but he remained silent, letting the quiet settle between them, a bitter feeling rising in his chest.

”whatever,” he muttered. “don’t be sorry.”

you werent friends. not when you walked him home that night, waving him goodbye as he stood there on his doorstep. not when you met up every week, in the quiet of night, to simply bathe in each other’s present. and you weren't friends when you brought him your toys, building castles with building blocks under the stars.

you weren’t friends, that was true. but in all reality, you were more than that. a friend would’ve left him alone, but you stayed. you indulged his fantasies and brought him things for him to play with, you stayed by his side and held him when he cried.

for a lonely child like touya, you were someone much, much more than a friend. he looked forward to those nights, those moments he could spend outside with you, far away from his father and his cold house.

it was enough for touya. knowing that he had someone to look forward to, that he had a place where he didn’t have to be strong. it was enough to know that he had someone who didn’t care about his father, or his quirk, or his talent. just someone who listened to him without judgement, without expectations on the child he should be.

he never admitted it, though. he never said to you that he looked forward to the nights where he could just be a child, carefree and happy.

you’d watch him, sometimes, in the big oak tree, while he trained with his father. you two never spoke about it, but you knew he could see you. you noticed when he began training harder, as if he was showing off to you. flames burning bigger and brighter. and, sometimes, you wondered if he’d accidentally burn the tree down while you were in it.

he wasn’t exactly subtle with the way he pushed himself, he knew you were there watching him. it was like he had something to prove, not just to his father, but to you. he wanted to show you how strong he was, how tough he could be. even when his body screamed at him to stop, to stop before he burnt himself down to the bone, he wanted to push on, convince you that he was getting stronger. stronger for his father, who beat him into shape night and day. stronger for his mother, for fuyumi, and his brother that was on the way. stronger for the future of a society he promised he’d protect.

stronger for you, so you would think of him as someone other than that weak, useless boy you found all those nights ago.

even as he stumbled and fell, face first in the dirt, he got up again. he ignored the harsh words of his father, focused on the tree, knowing you were sitting there, watching him as he worked himself to the bones. his body ached and ached, screaming at him to finally stop, to take a break. but he couldn’t, not while he still had you to impress.

and later that night, you’d offer him an onigiri from your house, holding your hands to his sore body and he’d relish the feeling of your quirk washing over him. he wasn't exactly sure what it did, but what he did know, was that it felt good.

your hands were cold against his cheeks, and he’d close his eyes as the ache in his body began to melt away like the first signs of spring. these moments were the only good thing to come out of training. the only time he’d ever feel relief from the harsh regimen he was put through, the only reprieve he’d ever receive from his father’s scathing words. 

he’d lean into your touch, the cold soothing the pain. it was the most peace he’d feel in his life, the only time he’d let himself relax, even for a moment. he craved the touch, longed for the brief coolness you gave him.

your presence alone was enough for him. even on the worst days, when he felt like he’d never be strong enough, never be the son his father wanted him to be, your presence soothed him. just knowing you were nearby, sitting in some tree and watching him struggle to make a large flame, made him feel better.

he started to think of you as his home. his safe spot, his peace away from his harsh reality. 

but still, he didn’t admit it. 

he never admitted just how much he needed you.

[liveontelevision]

Hi! im in love with your Lucifer fics. You newest one has me gripped and i cant wait for the next part.

You got me brainstorming more Lucifer fics ideas

I was thinking of one where the reader has been helping/supporting Charlie at the Hotel and is almost like a mother/parental figure to her, and when Lucifer arrives he acts cold/mean no matter how much she tries to be polite. But then he warm up to her after see how much the reader really cares about Charlie and then he finally realises hes in love with her.

♡

Thank you! I literally could write about him for hours (kinda have already) and I really liked this prompt, so here's just a lil' something for ya, anon ♡

Honey | Lucifer x Reader

No smut, just some cute fluff here-

♡♡♡

As soon as you arrived in Hell, your eyes were drawn to the drab-looking hotel just up the hill. And you flew to it like a moth to a TV screen. That being said, you've known Charlie and the other residents for as long as you've been dead. They've all seen you at your worst, having to be the unlucky few to explain your death. Although, Charlie's comfort really made the whole being dead thing much more palatable. During this time, while she's supported you, you've seen her through thick and thin as well. Pretty soon, you became an important part of her life, offering a more parental influence when she needed one. You didn't really die at an old age, but a lot went on in your lifetime to give you the maturity to comfort people that way and you were always happy to do it.

Considering your skill set, some of the residents went to you in the same fashion. A little task you took to, just to help out, was fixing up some articles of clothing for people. It was a great mindless task for you to do, considering Alastor wasn't a fan of having phones and TVs in the hotel. So you simply sat, humming a little tune as you fixed up something from Angel's wardrobe.

Your trance was broken, seeing a pair of slender legs in front of you. Following them up, you finally meet eyes with a nervous-looking Charlie. She's fidgeting with her fingers, still trying to find the courage to say whatever she came to you for.

"You need something, hun? You can talk to me, c'mere." With a sweet voice, you patted the cushion on the couch next to you and kept on working. She let out a heavy breath you didn't realize she was holding.

"Soooo... my dad is coming to visit and I - uh.." she still struggled to find her words. Considering you've barely been outside the hotel, you really didn't question how big of a deal Lucifer was. But to see Charlie getting flustered about a little visit from her own father did make you feel uneasy.

"I guess - I don't know, I'm just nervous, is all! It's not that big a deal, I mean, he's my dad, but also.. he's... my dad..?" You nodded your head.

"Seems like a big deal. He's the king of Hell, so it makes sense that you're nervous. Can I help with anything?" Acknowledging her feelings and making sure to keep your tone smooth, you finally set aside the mini skirt you were fixing up to face her.

"Oh! Um - I was wondering if you could bake something for everyone! Niffty's making cookies, but I think dad might enjoy something a little more.." You both thought back on the disturbing display of desserts Niffty had made for everyone in the past, it sent a chill down your spine. You nodded your head fast, taking a hold of her hands.

“Yeah, I'd love to! I'll make sure it's something your dad would like, too! How's that sound?" You absolutely loved to bake, and doing it for other people always made it even better. There was some pressure on you, considering who you were catering to, but remembering that this is for Charlie, kept any nerves at bay. Charlie, who just happened to be shedding a tear or two of relief, gave you a hug that would've snapped you in two if it had gone on any longer. You were used to those at this point.

The day went by fast, Charlie preparing and stressing over little decisions for her dad's visit. You got the OK to bake an apple pie. A specialty you would make when you were alive, you went all out. You'd always make the dough from scratch, soak the apples in a homemade cinnamon butter, and somehow managed to spiffy it up to a commercial extent. You were batting off Pentious and Niffy as best you could until he arrived.

You saw a side of Charlie during that visit that you haven't really seen before. She was nervous, sure, but it was clear she felt so defeated. Each little quip on sinners being hopeless or how Charlie shouldn't even bother in this "whole redemption deal" made you understand her paranoia more and more.

As Charlie introduced each of the staff and residents, Lucifer got distracted by the still steaming pie sitting on the table in front of everyone. He definitely wasn't the only one whose mouth was watering just by staring at it, but he was the one who bit the bullet, taking the first piece. 

"And this is -" a loud hum of satisfaction interrupted Charlie's introduction to Sir Pentious, who looked deflated at the change in topic.

"Charlie! Good golly - This is great!" With another bite and hum, you watched his eyes flutter shut for a moment. A little boost of confidence immediately making you giddy.

"Oh! Well, that's good! Because this is our other guest! She made it herself -" Charlie took a hold of your shoulders and dragged you to face Lucifer. You could feel the nervous tremble coming from her hands. You looked up at her for a moment and smiled, placing a hand over top of hers. It really did seem to calm her nerves. And for some reason, he didn't seem to like that. 

"Well - I'll eat anything with apples since they're obviously my favorite. It’s not that special." He tossed the half-finished plate back onto the table and wiped his hands clean. He ignored you.

"U-Uhm.. yeah, that's - that's everyone, I guess!" Charlie stammered, not expecting him to turn such a cold shoulder to you. He spent his time examining you. Considering he didn't even care enough to learn your name at that moment, he sure was taking his time looking you up and down.

"Well then!" He clasped his hands together after finally tearing his eyes off you. "How about a little tour?" He suggested, clearly not invested in the other sinners now. Charlie looked down at you and you nodded, starting to clean up some little things around you. It was a nervous habit you had, but it helped to keep your hands busy and your mind off the insulting interaction you just had to endure.

Charlie took Vaggie's hand and went on to give the tour. Once they were out of sight around the corner, you slumped your shoulders letting out a groan.

"Short king's givin' you the cold shoulder, huh?" Angel leaned on the back of the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

"Right? Okay, glad I'm not the only one who noticed that. Is something wrong with the pie..?" Looking over to Sir Pentious, who was licking the already empty pie tin clean, he quickly shook his head.

"Maybe's got a thing for ya." Angel teased, jabbing you with his elbow. You rolled your eyes, finally taking the pie tin from Pentious.

"He didn't even get my name, I'm sure that's not it. Whatever.. " you grumbled, taking any dishes you could to the kitchen to keep your mind from exploring that option.

The extermination day battle was here. You followed the armies who attacked the hoards of exorcists when they finally arrived. As the battle went on, you hated to admit it, you found yourself in awe watching Lucifer kick Adam's ass. The sight of his wings and the little V thing - and obviously his immense power, somehow managed to make you blush as you were attacking angels. Definitely a new sensation for you, with the bloodlust muddling your other senses, but it was easy to forget about it once the new hotel was renovated and everyone was finally settled in.

As everything went back to normal, you went back to helping Charlie with anything you could, drinking at the bar with everyone and generally things went back to the way they were. There was only one difference. Lucifer made the decision to stay at the hotel. It was commendable for sure, his change of heart to support Charlie through this change, but it only left you feeling conscious about everything you'd do when he was around. The underlying crush didn't help much. Or Angel's teasing about said crush.

You really did try, when you'd pass him the hallway, you'd always send him your most sincere smile. Or when you spotted him reading or working on anything, you'd try and spark any kind of conversation or ask if he needed help. He never needed help. He was always too busy to chat. You honestly couldn't remember a time he looked you in the eyes before. You bit your tongue. No need to worry Charlie, or anyone really, about some feud you possibly made up in your mind.

It was especially important to you to not stress Charlie right now. Starting the hotel back up was a big task alone, but the loss of Sir Pentious weighed on everyone. And Charlie took full blame for it. A late night, where she most likely stayed up to try and find any kind of hope for redemption, any speck of proof to bring sinners in, she found herself burnt out. Approaching the memorial for Pentious, you stood beside Charlie. You found her visiting it every now and then, and when you did, you knew she needed a check in. And you were right. Without a word, Charlie suddenly clung to you. She went on about how it was all her fault. How he was gone because of her. How nothing seems to be working and she's terrified that it's all for nothing.

It took a while for her to calm down, but you would never leave her like this. By now, the two of you had fallen to the ground, sitting on your knees.

"Charlie, you are doing your absolute best. It's okay to cry, you know that. Think of everything you've done for everyone else, I mean - Pen would've never sacrificed himself if it wasn't for his friends." You brushed a tear from her still wet and puffy eyes. "You did that. You gave him something worth dying for." It was a hard truth, but you hoped it was enough for her. She's done more for you than she'd ever know, and you'd do anything to give it back. You didn't realize, but before approaching Charlie, Lucifer was pacing a nearby corridor, battling the decision to go up to her himself. He hadn't said much to her since extermination day, and he had always been nervous about saying something wrong, making things worse. Before he had the chance to muster up the courage, you had swooped in. It confused him. He should've been jealous or hurt, that he wasn't able to calm her down himself. That you beat him to the punch. But he didn't really feel that way, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Was it admiration? Sitting in the shadows until he assured Charlie was taken care of, he went back up to his workshop, flustered for a number of reasons.

There was one moment, where things started to look good. It was a regular night at the bar, you, Angel and Husk had gotten on the topic of your lives, looking at the positives which was a rarity. Charlie and Lucifer were nearby, Charlie enthralled in the discussions of what Earth was like.

"My homelife? It wasn't anything fancy, but.. um.. - oh I had a farm, actually! I ran it with my parents, it was.. nice." You hold onto your arms, a bittersweet smile on your face. With a light bulb going off in Charlie's head, she nudged you with her elbow.

"You didn't happen to have any birds or chickens or ducks - did you?" She hummed. She noticed the wedge between you and her dad, and it hurt her just as much as it hurt you. She's little miss "everyone should get along", of course, this hurt her. You didn't notice, but Lucifer peaked up at you for a split second before distracting himself by swaying the drink in his glass.

"Oh..? Oh! Yeah! Yes, actually! We raised a few ducklings that a neighbor gave us - we got them as eggs, so we got to see them grow up and everything!" Going on, telling a story about how you snuck one into your room to keep it as a pet, only to be scolded for it. You had the whole group in the palm of your hand. Including Lucifer. You met his eyes for just a moment, the twinkle in them immediately drawing you in. With a quick smile, he became flustered. He scoffed, pushing himself away from the bar and leaving. As much as that should've infuriated you, seeing those eyes and the growing redness across the apple of his cheeks felt like a win.

Since the hotel was newer, and word hadn't gotten out about Pentious's redemption yet, it was still vacant beside you, Angel, and occasionally Cherry Bomb. That gave the whole group a lot of time to enjoy the large space in the meantime.

Certain nights, Alastor would play the large, golden, piano that Lucifer had so generously created. This led to Charlie singing along to whatever he was playing, of course, and when Lucifer was in a good mood - or drunk - he would even pitch in. He'd sit atop the piano, his legs crossed, as he hiked the matching golden fiddle to his shoulder and played along. It was truly a sight to see. His skills were unmatched, but it still seemed to melt into the rest of the contributions. It was as if he invented the damn thing (He did).

This sort of became a tradition, when everyone was in a good mood and Alastor wasn't getting on Lucifer's nerves too much, everyone would join in, singing and dancing. It was rare, but Damn was it fun when it did happen. One of these nights, Alastor started off with a song that you knew, and had actually introduced to Charlie. She gasped as soon as she recognized the tune, pulling you close by both your hands to sing along. You had as good of a voice as anyone did, in a musical rendition of Hell, but you mainly stuck to harmonizing little things with Charlie. Swinging around with each other, until you were dizzy and laughing, you noticed that the room seemed a little empty.

Lucifer was seated where he usually was, on his phone. His fiddle was placed carefully at his side, and he was scrolling through his goddamn phone. 

"Don't feel like joining us, Your Highness?" You kept to titles since it was obvious he wasn't warmed up to you just yet. Even after living with you for a month or so.

"Mm. Don't know the song. It's not my cup of tea, just can't seem to get into it." He says bluntly, never looking up to you.

“Oh, come on! Just play along, it’s just for fun!” You slurred your words a bit, whatever you had been sipping throughout the night causing, what you would call, an outburst.

“Hm! Well, I’m not exactly here for your entertainment, am I? God forbid a sinner doesn't have fun in their eternal punishment.” The room went silent. You felt so defeated. You've been trying since the day you met him to try and at least get on good terms with him, but it seemed like he would even prefer a night with Alastor over you. Things like this never bugged you much, you tried so hard to not let it bug you, but when Charlie looked over to you, with those worried eyes, it was hard to keep back the bottled-up disappointment.

With a little sniffle and a quick wipe of your eyes with your sleeve, you start heading back up the newly decorated grand staircase, without a word to anyone.

"Heyyy - Dad..! I think you maybe.. might've... I don't know - hurt her feelings..? Would you wanna - " Charlie carefully approached her father, who immediately lit up and placed his device down when she spoke. "Could you talk to her? Maybe just check up on her..?" She was speaking barely above a whisper.

“You have to apologize. Um.. sir.” Vaggie finally blurted out. His smile was nervous, his eye twitching a bit at the concept. Taking in a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a sad little laugh.

"Well, uh.. I don't know, Kiddo, maybe she's just tired." He muttered, obviously hesitant at the idea.

"Sounds like the king can't handle a little damsel in distress to me. Would you like me to comfort her, my dear?" Alastor was quick to chime in from the piano bench, offering a sympathetic smile to Charlie. Why did the concept of that make Lucifer’s blood boil?

"Oh fuck you, bambi, I can handle it." With a quick hop off of the piano top, he almost stormed up the stairs to find you. Definitely not what Charlie was hoping to motivate him, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew Alastor had his reasoning for that. She mouthed a little thank you to him, once Lucifer turned his back.

You were ecstatic to learn that Charlie worked an extensive library into the hotel. Walking into its large double doors, you almost struggled to see the back of the room with how full it was. You had a little corner you claimed as your own, leaving one of your blankets draped on the little loveseat there, and setting aside a pile of books you were still working through. It was a great place to calm yourself down after what had just happened.

Hearing heels click against the tile, you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket as you pulled your legs up to your chest. 

"I'm fine Charlie, it's fine.. I just need a second, go back to the lobby." You shooed off the figure with one hand, wiping your face with the other.

"Ahha- Nope! Try again -" with a nervous chuckle, Lucifer greeted you with an awkward wave. Interrupting the silence by clearing his throat, he gestured to the seat next to you. With a quick nod, finally snapping out of your surprised state, you shifted your position to sit beside him. It wasn't exactly a two-person couch. Not for two people who might hate each other, at least. I mean it was a loveseat. He struggled to keep his distance, leaving your legs barely brushing together.

"Soooo.. you, uh- like.. reading..?" He asked after a long silence. You were mainly confused by his words, but simply nodded in response.

“Yeah it's - I-I love it in here.. There wasn’t anything like this on Earth, so this is nice." You managed to speak out, between sniffles. He agreed with a little hum, fidgeting with the ring on his finger.

“Glad you like it. It's uhh - just happens to be my personal collection.” He puffed out his chest, looking at his clawed nails with a little smirk on his face. He had no idea why he thought that would help, but it actually did a bit. when he looked your direction, you were slack-jawed in awe. The sight made him turn a bit red in the cheeks, quickly looking away, he patted the top of his legs to fill the silence.

“That's really cool! I guess it makes sense - considering you're older than the dawn of time- but, still. Thank you, I suppose. For letting me - I mean - us use it.” You rambled on for a moment your words became quieter the more you gushed.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” He asked between laughter. You made him laugh. You hoped he didn't see the sparkle in your eyes at the notion. You stalled, lost in thought, before quickly shaking your head.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the awkward silence sitting a little more comfortably than before. Finally, Lucifer let out a sigh of defeat. 

"It’s my fault, right?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, uh.. I guess so, but.. I mean, I'm kind of drunk so it might be something with that - but I'm fine, I swear." You waved your hands in an attempt to soothe the serious discussion. But Lucifer knew better than anyone what someone holding their true intentions back looks like.

"You're really good for Charlie. I.. I wish I could take care of her. Like you do." He admitted. It surprised you for a moment. Was that why he's been so cold to you? Was there some form of jealousy in there? Or was he really concerned that you would replace him in some fashion?

"C'mon, you're just saying that to make me feel better. I saw you on extermination day, none of this would even be here without that little pep talk, you’ve done more for her than you know, I think. Charlie.. she loves you." The words made him perk up a little. Maybe even a king needs reassurance sometimes.

"Oh- Um.. I guess she does, huh..?" You could hear his smile. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. You didn't even realize you had the smallest smile on your own face. But he did. With another nervous laugh, he hesitates before planting a hand on your leg, just above your knee. No time like the present, you suppose.

"I’m sorry. I really am. For.. everything. You're actually amazing. I-I mean it.." Without a response from you yet, he lets his gentle touch linger a moment longer. You leaned in towards him, the smile on your face turning sly.

"Yeah? You think so? I almost thought you hated me." You were teasing him. He's been so cold to you this whole time, you just had to take advantage of the moment. He turns a bit red, covering his mouth with his free hand as he clears his throat into his fist.

"Of course I don't.." He muttered.

"Soo, would you say you like me?" You drew out your words, walking your fingers up his arm.

"W-What? How - " He clamped his hand over his mouth before desperately trying to rationalize his thoughts, " Of course I do! I just said you're great with Charlie and I -ahh.. I love Charlie, so I like - " He coughs up his words, " - I liked your pie, that you made! And you have a good voice, too, and your little duck story was cute, so - " God bless this man's tendency to overshare when he's nervous. The alcohol definitely gave you the little boost of confidence you needed to question him like this, but you would be lying if you said you didn't notice his reactions to you whenever you weren't paying attention. Or whenever he thought you weren't paying attention. It finally dawned on you that some of those glares might have had some other motivations.

You knew when to reel it in, but considering his hand was still on your leg, he moved it up a bit even, you assumed he was okay with the teasing. Maybe even enjoying it. Delicately drawing your fingers across his jaw, to his chin, you pulled his gaze to meet yours. You could feel his hand tense at every little touch.

"You have really nice eyes, Luci-" He audibly gulped, tugging at his bowtie. "You’ve been avoiding looking at me for months.. I wish you'd look at me more." You almost pouted, your fingers still lingering under his chin. With the slightest movement, he followed your hand towards your face. He took his hand off your thigh for a moment, only for you to take a hold of it and place it on your back. He was the one who pulled you closer at this point.

“Y-you can't just say things like that.. it’s embarrassing..” He muttered, trying his best to not close the gap between your bodies. 

“Embarrassing? I’m not embarrassed, your highness. Are you? Do I.. make you nervous? Hmm?” You placed your hands just above his knees, leaning closer through your chest. Sucking in his lips, he did his best to stay silent, knowing he’d dig his own grave no matter how he answered.

“I just think you’re so pretty, Luci, I can't help myself.” Before he could properly react, you leaned in close enough for him to feel your breath against his ear. Damn, what did you drink? You could feel his hand on your back clenching, either to bring you closer or just out of sheer nerves. With a little hum against his ear, he let out the quietest whimper. It apparently took both of you by surprise, you leaned back to get a look at his face with wide eyes. Meeting his eyes this time sent you both into a blushing, nervous state.

With a deep breath, you cupped his face after brushing some of his golden locks back into place, then gave him the lightest kiss on his lips. You didn't even linger long enough for him to return it, and he was clearly distraught by it. You unwrapped yourself from your blanket, giving a dumbstruck Lucifer another quick peck on his forehead, before standing.

“I’m going back downstairs. Take your time, Hun!” You called out so sweetly as if you hadn't just left him a heated mess. 

Finally returning to the lobby, you walked with your chest puffed out, beckoning for another drink from Husk.

"Did.. did Dad check in on you? Are you okay?" Charlie carefully approached you, and was immediately disarmed by your grin.

"Yup! I feel much better now. He apologized and we had a little.. Discussion. Thanks, hun." You said sweetly, taking a sip of the drink Husk slid into your hand. Angel gave you a dirty glare, and after meeting his eyes you quickly looked away.

"Well great! Where is he? Maybe we can pick back up where we left off!" Charlie clasped her hands together enthusiastically.

"Here! I-I'm here! Great idea, honey, let's keep playing!" He tripped over himself, rushing into the room and hoping nobody saw him re-fastening his tie. Sending him another quick smile, his face clearly hadn't cooled from the past events. He nearly dropped his fiddle, but as soon as he prepared he picked up the same song that was left unfinished moments before.

♡♡♡

I wanted to get through some asks, but I'm still working on Suffer, no worries, my friends

!Taglist!

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[filmbyjy]

MINESTREAM

SYPNOSIS > Wanting to start a new stream series with his best friends, Jay had a bright idea of playing some simple Minecraft with them. Everything was normal, until he realises there is another person in the call with them. He quickly learns that it was ni-ki’s older sister, (name). Watch how streaming a simple game of Minecraft can dig up some interesting feelings between the main leads.

TWENTY-TWO – his lips looks soft

a/n: the day I see jay ever taking off his shirt in front of thousands of people, is the day I am dead👍🏻

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

somehow you find yourself in bed after accidentally falling asleep after lunch. you didn’t even know how you got here but at least you didn’t wake up with a painful neck and back.

you had rolled out of bed, it was dark out. you’ve probably slept for a total of at least 5-6 hours. best sleep in a couple of months you’ve had. your throat felt dry so you had decided to walk over to the kitchen. when you finally stepped off the stairs, you noticed the light was turned on. the aroma of something savoury fills the air.

someone stood shirtless in the kitchen as he stirs up the food. when he turns around, you realised it was jay.

…

WAIT IT WAS JAY???

you tripped on something and fell face first onto the marble floor. jay goes over quickly and helps you up and makes sure you’re okay.

“are you okay? any pain on your ankle? face? arms?” he asks quickly.

“i-i’m fine. just didn’t see the-” you had inspected the item you had tripped on. it was a doggy toy. you and ni-ki did not have a dog and as far as you knew…the 3 boys didn’t either.

jay looks over to where you staring. “ah, jake’s parents dropped his dog over earlier. since, this apartment allows dogs, jake wanted to keep his dog with him as close as possible.”

“oh.”

“I’ll warn jake about the dog toys.” you hummed. you had tried to stand up but a sharp pain stung your ankles. you groaned at the pain.

without a word, jay lifts you up and carries you over to the sofa. he places you gently onto the cushions and goes over to find an ice pack and also any oils/medicine for your ankles. once he’s done, he kneels right in front of your legs and gently lifts up the ankle that was hurt.

“ah.” you winced a little as jay puts some oil and lightly massages the area. he looks up at you once and apologises before taking his massaging much more lighter than before.

“it’s definitely twisted and swollen. just need to put an ice pack and let the swelling get better.” he places your ankle onto a pillow and puts the ice pack on it. “there, now sit there and- oh fuck, the food.” jay hastily runs back to the kitchen.

after a few sounds of clatter from the kitchen, jay emerges with the food he was previously working on. he places the bowl down in front of you. “there, we go. you didn’t have dinner yet so I thought of bringing this upstairs but you came down instead.”

the food looked really good. you didn’t think you’d be able to try jay’s food. “thank you.” before you could even lift the chopsticks, jay stops you and feeds you. he doesn’t forget to blow on the hot noodles.

you seemed to have forgotten that he was literally sitting in front of you half-naked. or maybe you didn’t, you just chose to pretend he was wearing a shirt.

“how is it?” jay asks as you chewed on the noodles.

“it’s good.”

“that’s great, it’s my mom’s recipe so this pretty much reminds me of my childhood. the smell especially.”

“then why aren’t you eating it?”

“oh, I ate it just now with the others. I just made it again for you since you were asleep just now.”

“oh…you could have woken me up when you were eating dinner with the rest. now, I feel guilty that you have to make it the second time.” you huffed.

“no, it’s really okay. i don’t mind making it again. after all, I’d like to take it as if it’s practice for cooking. the more you cook, the better you get.” jay explains. with jay’s words, you couldn’t help but pout. “don’t pout.” he taps your lips lightly with the chopsticks.

“okay. can i have another bite now?” you looked at him straight in the eyes. jay laughs.

“sure.” he picks up the noodles and blows it again before letting you eat it.

30 minutes later, neither you or jay realised the footsteps coming towards the both of you. it was clear there was a tension between the both of you as you two interacted. the person was clearly witnessing it. another footstep trails behind the person and comes to a halt.

*smack* “ow!” jake silently yells when sunghoon’s palm comes into contact with jake’s face. “what was that for?” he asks in a whisper.

“look.” sunghoon points out to jake. the shorter male peaks behind the wall and notices you and jay.

“it’s just (name) and jay interacting?”

“just interacting? do you see jay? he’s shirtless.” sunghoon says. jake rolls his eyes.

“we’re boys, obviously we’d be shirtless whenever we can. besides, you know jay likes to walk around the house shirtless.” jake glares at sunghoon.

“yeah but (name) doesn’t mind it. that’s the first girl that has seen jay shirtless.”

“but it’s not like he’s fucking her.” jake whisper yells.

just as sunghoon turns back to watch you and jay, he realises that the distance between the both of you was practically shorten in a minute. he smacks jake once more and gets him to look at what was happening in front of them.

jay leans in and so do you. it was about to happen, you were going to kiss jay. after what? 22 chapters? finally.

that is until…Layla, jake’s dog, comes running in. jake tries to catch her but ultimately falls onto the ground. the loud boom causes both you and jay to pull away from each other. both of your heads spun over in the direction of the sound.

“uh, hello.” sunghoon says. instantly, your face flushed. you’ve never felt this embarrassed being almost caught kissing someone. jay clenches his fist and stands up to go over to the two boys. he pulls them away to speak to them in private.

once they were out of the living room, you had hid your face behind your hands and groaned. you couldn’t even get up and go back to your bedroom since your ankles were injured. you just had to sit there and do nothing until jay came back. however, did you really have to wait for anyone to hide away from your embarrassment?

and so you grabbed the couch and tried to stand up on your feet. hopefully, you didn’t put too much pressure on the ankle that was swollen. you had hopped over to the stairs and attempted to jump up each step. until jay swoops and effortlessly scoops you up.

“where do you think you’re going?” he asks as he climbs the stairs with you in his arms.

“umm, to my room.”

“you could’ve called me or the boys to carry you up.”

“you three seemed to be having a heartfelt conversation so I didn’t want to disturb.”

he brings you over to your room and places you right on your bed, “not without someone to help you up the stairs. I already told you that your ankles are swollen, you can’t put much pressure on.”

“I know but-” “no, buts.” jay cuts in while you were talking. he tucks you into bed.

“now, I think you should try to sleep this off until morning. luckily, it’s still the weekends. it should get better by tomorrow or the day after just before you go to your morning classes.”

you huffed in defeat. jay pats your head and leaves your bedroom. you laid on your bed and closed your eyes. it was definitely an eventful day but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get some sleep. not after nearly kissing jay.

god, his lips looked soft.

you grabbed a pillow and squealed into it. you had to tell Yvette everything that happened the next morning. for now, you should at least try to sleep again.

well…at least.

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[anonymousbardd]

Over The Sunset - FT. Hermes x FemReader

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: "Your slow loving makes me feel so obsessed with you."

𑄽𑄺 Content Contains: xFemreader, fluff, swearing. This story is based off of the series, Blood Of Zeus - ¡Please do not repost without crediting!

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: "All my life I and the world had been moving at a fast pace, but everyone always seems to slow down whenever I'm near you."

[F/n] is a young maiden who lives in a small poli, she used to live in a much larger economy, but her previous home was destroyed by a big group of bandits and hoarders. Now, she lives in a small village that the survivors built.

During the hard times, [F/n}'s family were the ones who helped everyone, they were the ones who gathered resources, and food, and they helped with the injured.

The village had a voting session to decide who would lead their newly rebuilt home, and it was no brainer why all of them chose your family. At the time, [F/n] was still an unborn fetus, and by the time she was born, the whole village had dedicated that day to celebrating their new life and home.

The young girl grew up to be polite, humble and kind, just like her parents. The villagers adored her, calling [F/n] the village's white rose. The young girl had a heart of gold, was sensitive, and felt empathetic towards the poor souls who had passed away. [F/n] would pray to Hermes, she would pray for the safety of the undead.

[F/n] would visit Hermes' nearby temple and would make offerings to him.

One morning, the village's white rose now grew into a beautiful maiden, it was a lovely morning, [F/n] was making her way to the nearby river to collect some water, when all of a sudden, she heard screams of terror from her beloved villagers.

[F/n] ran towards the sounds of agony, her heart raced inside of her chest as her mind showed different horrific scenarios. Once she finally arrived, she noticed that the cries and screams were coming from inside.

She rushed in only to find a dimly lit cave, on the ground where some of the villagers bleeding out, a little girl was crying, [F/n] ran towards the young girl and held her in her arms. Then, in the dark, a figure rose and began to swiftly attack the young girl and [F/n].

The young maiden then took a rock from the ground and began throwing it at the Kere, all whilst she hid the young child behind her, she managed to land a decent hit on its head, causing it to fall back into the shadows.

[F/n] then turned to the young child and made sure that she was okay, [F/n]'s legs were already bruised and wounded, so she wasn't able to run away, "Leave this cave... Hurry and run back to the village!" [F/n] said, "B-but.., I can't leave you here!"

[F/n] smiled and placed a hand on the girl's cheek, "Worry not about me, save yourself," she said, and with that, the young girl ran out of the cave and back to the village. [F/n] knew that if she stayed any longer she would end up being feasted upon.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and the young maiden then decided to pray for the two dead bodies on the ground, as she did, she felt a gush of wind brush against her face.

Then right before her, a tall man with fair skin appeared, his eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and his hair was in a braid, he took off his helmet and looked down on the ground to see the dead and [F/n].

The young maiden knew that the man was too big to be an ordinary mortal, "Wh-who.., who are you..?" [F/n] asked quite frightened, the tall man chuckled and kneeled down.

"Well that's quite disappointing... As my devoted follower I would thought that you would have at least a bit of a clue who I am."

He than hovered his hand on top of the dead villagers and began to harvest their souls, he looked at [F/n] and smiled, only then did the young maiden realise who it was.

The man in front of her was no other than Hermes, the god she's been praying to all her life.

Just as the tall man stood up, [F/n] lifted her body and warned him, "Wait! Careful, there's a Keres lurking in the dar—..,"

*shing!*

In a blink of an eye, the Keres from before was cut in half, Hermes' reaction was quick and beyond mortal abilities.

[F/n] sat there in shock, the god then reached out his hand for the young maiden to hold, "Come, let me help you out of here," he said with a smile.

The young woman then held his hand, and without struggle, he carries her in a bridal way.

[F/n] felt her heart pounding inside of her chest, her facd felt hot as she looked at the god who's carrying her. Not a second later they were outside Hermes' temple, the god gently placed her down and looked at her wounds.

"Wait here, I'll be back," he said looking up at the young woman, not even 10 minutes later, Hermes returned with clean cloth and a bucket of water.

[F/n] watched as the god dipped the cloth in water and began to gently dab it on her wounds, causing her to wince in pain. "Bare with me for a bit.., I know it hurts..." Hermes muttered.

The young maiden moaned, her legs were aching, she then looked at Hermes who was currently focused on her injury, "Do you usually do this for those who worship you?" [F/n] asked.

Hermes smiled warmly and looked up at the young maiden, "I do not, consider yourself special," he said, [F/n] felt her face heat up, she then looked away, the sun was already setting.

[F/n] looked back at Hermes and hummed, he was already wrapping up the wound with more clean cloth, "Why..?" [F/n] mumbled, Hermes looked up and hummed, "Why did you save me..?" She asked, "What do you mean?"

[F/n] looked down and sighed, "Compared to you, I am but a young woman... I haven't done anything to be blessed enough to get saved by a god..."

Hermes looked at her for a second and laughed, he sat down on the ground and rested his arms on his knees, "You, my dear, are truly one funny girl," he chucked.

Hermes then stood up, offering his hand to [F/n], to which she accepted.

He then brought her to the top of a mountain that perfectly viewed [F/n]'s village. Hermes held her close to him, making the young maiden feel secure, "You see this village? It's a small poli that your parents helped to grow... And you, a daughter of those with noble hearts, did the same."

[F/n] looked at him, slightly curious. She knew what Hermes meant, but she wanted to know what he'd say. Hermes turned to face [F/n], "You cared for the weak, praid for those who had fallen, and you helped with the village's troubles.., you, darling, are a lovely person."

Hermes smiled and looked out to the horizon, watching the sun slowly fall, "Ever since you started to visit my temple... I can't help but admire you for your kindness, you're very thoughtful... Everday you give me generous offerings, I can't help but feel flattered."

The god then turned to look at [F/n], "Sweetie, you're such a humble person, and on top of that, you're kindness makes me admire you more and more, I find myself looking forward to your presence for whenever you visit my temple again."

Hermes kisses the back of [F/n]'s hand, "I can't help myself but fall for such a charming woman..," he then looked up to see [F/n]'s red face, the way she looked told him everything.

Hermes then slowly pulled himself away, "Though I may know more about you... You don't know much about me... Worry not about that.., I'll gladly take my time and take things slow with you," he smiled, tucking a hair behind [F/n]'s ear.

𑄽𑄺 Blood of Zeus needs more appreciation honestly... Sorry for being inactive, I've been busy hanging out with my family hehe.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

[finniestoncrane]

If you're still taking requests for the nsfw kinks please can I get:💣 - corruption: “and you said you’d never be caught dead doing anything like this. sounded like you were very much alive and enjoying it though” for Hancock? Thank Youuu

Hancock x GN!Reader, word count: 700 talk about corruption lmaoooo i'd be walking up to people with a geiger counter and asking them to swipe it over my lower half like "yeah guess what i've just done" ANYWAY i didn't go so literally, i wanted john to have some fun corrupting some diamond city sweetheart, so this ended up a lot more romantic than smutty (sorry!!) ☢️ request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, drugs mentioned, corruption, scent kink/marking kink, licking

It was less a way of consuming your body and more a method of marking, you realised, as Hancock's tongue dragged along the side of your neck once more. Almost every inch of you had been coated in his saliva, where he'd started at your toes and worked his way up, making brief stops along the way at the places he knew would send a tingle down your spine. It was careful, a level of expert employed in the seductive tasting that had all of your skin prickled with gooseflesh, hairs standing on end, moisture almost drained as your torso and face glistened with sweat and your cunt dripped in your slick.

The sounds he made, the appreciative moans, as though he were dining on fresh cram, something from before, something new and decadent, were enough to bring you as close to the edge as you could get. It only took a mischievous chuckle, his tongue pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers stroking slowly, deftly, over your clit, before you were trembling beside him, body contorting in ecstasy as you came.

As you came back down to Earth, bliss oozing from your skin, on your breath, scenting the air around you, you felt his arms pull you close. He was warm, his skin still dry despite the frantic rutting that had you sweating and which was now coating you in a clammy, chill susceptible layer. Sensing the drop in your temperature, he reached to the floor, producing his shirt which he wrapped you in.

"You'll smell like me now. Like Good Neighbour."

"And?"

You asked, but you knew what he was trying to say without using direct words. You were raised quietly, properly, in Diamond City. Wealthy assholes as parents. A desire to rebel had brought you to Good Neighbour, swearing that you were only there for a drink. Only there to experience life outside of the green walls. You and the friends you had travelled with giggled, excitement bounding through your bodies as you watched the people, so different to you, living their lives. One of your group made a comment about the bodies, what they'd feel like. Of course, you protested, you'd never go as far as to be with a synth or a ghoul. That was wrong. You'd been told that your whole life, and despite not believing it at your core, it was still a rule that had been hammered home often enough that you still couldn't imagine yourself breaking it.

"Not even him?"

They'd pointed towards the man, the ghoul, in the corner. His long red frock coat a symbol of his status amongst the rest of the drifters in the town. There was an energy to him, but you could hear the distaste, the disgust in your parents tone.

You had protested, and Hancock had overheard you, finding it a suitable challenge for the evening. It hadn't taken him long to woo you, and you'd found yourself quickly back in his quarters, his guards standing by the door, sneaking glances as their mayor railed the smooth skinned newcomer. A triumph over Diamond City.

Drawing you back to the present, hours after your first encounter, when you were so quickly infatuated and bedded by the charismatic mayor of the town you had snuck into, Hancock took a deep breath and pulled you in closer.

"And you said you'd never be caught dead doing anything like this, huh? Sure sounded like you were very much alive and enjoying it."

"More alive than I've ever been."

Your response was quiet, thoughtful, as you let the experience settle over you. Hancock spoke softly in return.

"They'll smell me on you. You can't go back to Diamond City now."

"Well, what do you suggest I do?"

He shifted himself in the bed beside you, sitting with his back against the wall as he reached into the bedside table for one of the red inhalers you'd seen scattered around the place. With your head against his abdomen, you looked up at him, waiting for his answer.

"Stay here. With me. You give me another ten minutes and some jet and I'll be good to go for another round. We'll make a good neighbour of you yet, princess."

[mellifluousmalfoy]

cyclamen. // tom riddle x reader.

warnings; death, angst, a lot of it. sorry.

i listened to once more to see you by mitski quite a lot while writing this over the course of two years. i sincerely hope you enjoy this piece.

wc; 7.3k

It felt as though the world had grown silent as this monster stood in front of my peers and I, announcing the death of our classmate who was our last hope.

I glanced around the courtyard that was now in ruins and watched as all hope and faith was drained from my peers. My ears rang as I watched as the monster's lips moved, but I couldn't seem to hear a thing. My sight blurred as I lost track of what was happening around me.

Harry Potter was dead.

I could barely comprehend what was happening around me, only feeling a cold hand take hold of mine, dragging me through the bustling crowd. I noticed it was McGonagall herself holding my hand, not even taking a glance back at me as she continued to drag me deeper into the castle.

We came to a stop at one of the few classrooms that were still intact and she dragged me in before shutting the door tightly behind her. I came to and realised that all of the few teachers were there along with a few parents.

A lot of hushed whispers filled the room as Professor McGonagall tried to calm them down. The room turned quiet after she muttered something that had their shoulders relaxing even if it was only a little bit, but now they all turned to me.

McGonagall cleared her throat before finally addressing me, “(L/N), I’m sure you’re confused as to why we have brought you here,” she paused, stepping toward me before continuing, “but with Harry’s death we have turned to a new plan, a plan given by Dumbledore.”

She touched at her pocket, hinting at the contents in it before she pulled out a piece of parchment that was neatly folded, sealed with bright red wax and the Hogwarts crest. She handed the parchment to me without much hesitation.

I felt confused. Out of all the students in my school, why me? I wasn’t the brightest, and I was definitely not important like a few of my classmates were. I was but a shadow to the rest of the school, yet this was assigned to me of all people.

I tore the red wax with shaky hands and slowly unfolded the paper. The letter left me in awe. Surely they hadn’t expected me to go through with this, right? I had never expected them to send me back in time, nevertheless to kill Voldemort himself. Of course, under the guise of enamouring him.

Again I asked, why me?

Before I could understand what was happening, a potion was handed to me, and I was given strict instructions on consumption by Slughorn. You will not be able to return until the mission is complete.

And before I knew it, I swallowed the potion per Slughorn’s instruction, a letter addressed to the past Dumbledore in hand.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before making my way to the DADA classroom, where McGonagall assured me Dumbledore would be at this hour, whatever hour it was in the past.

The door was ajar so I walked myself in, coming face to face with a slightly more youthful version of my past Headmaster. He glanced up from his work at the sound of someone entering, and he observed me with a curious eye.

I stood silently in the doorway, playing with the letter that was still held tightly in my hands.

“You’re not from here, are you?” His voice broke me out of my daze. He spoke up again after gazing over my confused expression, “This time, perhaps?”

Shock glazed over my face as he simply stared at me, amused.

“H-How did you-“

“You wear a Hogwarts uniform, but not of this era.” His reply was assertive and knowing, “And you seem rather shocked to see me.”

I couldn’t bring it in myself to say, Well, you see you were the headmaster of the school that everyone had idolised, you were loved by everyone, even your worst foes. Oh, and you were killed by one of the people who loved you most!

I simply sighed in defeat before picking up the courage and stepping closer to him until I reached his desk, handing the letter to his hand which was already held out to take it.

He read over the letter, expression barely changing, but it was all in his eyes. Bewilderment, shock, hurt.

Once he had finished reading, he refolded the letter before glancing up at me, “And you’re sure to achieve this? You’re ready to accept the consequences?”

I sighed shakily, pulling at my fingers before replying, “Yes, Professor.”

-

After having been privately sorted, Dumbledore escorted me to the Great Hall where everyone seemed to be eating dinner. Everything looked so, for lack of a better term, old. The Great Hall appeared exactly the same as it did when I first stepped into the large building in my first year.

But my first year is fifty years from now. Fifty years Voldemort would be a ruthless monster. Voldemort- Tom- was in this very room, and I could feel every hair on my body stand at that very thought.

Dumbledore nudged me towards my house table, and I quickly sat down so as not to grab any attention, but I could feel everyone staring, and they have every right to. Why would a seventh year be starting now? Why not start in their first year?

I laughed at the thought. Of course, I had discussed this with Dumbledore, and he had said I should stay under the guise of an exchange student from a school such as Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, and I quickly agreed.

I was to be a distant niece of his who had been living with his great aunt, and I moved with him after her death. He "thought" it to be convenient for the both of us if I attended Hogwarts for my last year.

I snapped to reality when my plate was somehow emptied, and a pair of polished neat black shoes showed up in my peripheral vision. I glanced up at the new face and was met with dark brown, almost black, eyes.

I studied every feature of his face and found that he was dashing, an incredibly pristine handsome face. His pale skin contrasted with his pitch-black hair and highlighted the gold specks that could barely be seen in his dark eyes. As my eyes raked down to his neck, there was a Slytherin tie tied to perfection that lay so elegantly on his freshly ironed white button-down which could be seen under his grey vest which had green accents that complimented the bright hue of his tie. And on his robe, the head boy badge shone a bright hue of gold.

His chest was puffed out and everything about him screamed as if he thought he was superior to everyone in this room.

Before I knew it, I was staring, and the stranger could tell. I turned red at the realisation that he had caught me staring. He cleared his throat before introducing himself, "You're the new seventh year that Dumbledore mentioned," his voice was monotone, sly and low, "he had instructed me to show you around and to your common room, as the head boy, I gladly took this duty."

He spoke with as much confidence as he walked with. He knew he had charm, and he knew how to use it. I simply nodded in reply, not wanting to tell him I knew these halls like the back of my hand.

"Well," he drew out impatiently, turning to leave the bustling hall, "come on then."

I stood up clumsily, "Oh, sorry," before scattering to follow him as he exited the hall.

Once I had caught up to him we mostly walked in silence, occasionally pointing out different parts of the school such as the library, and the various bathrooms. He had shared small histories about the building that I had learnt in my third year but had long forgotten. Once we came to a stop in front of my common room door I awkwardly turned to face him, "By the way," I shuffled on my feet as I tried my best to hold eye contact with the cold but devilishly handsome man, "I'm (L/n). (Y/n) (L/n)."

He stared at me, back straight as ever, not a stray hair in sight, "Pleasure," he paused, leaning down to reach my height, "Riddle. Tom Riddle."

My ears began to ring, my world began to turn; The handsome stranger was the man who killed Harry Potter.

I swallowed back a shaky breath, nodding softly at him, before turning towards the entrance, and stepping into the familiar room. I could feel his eyes bore holes into the back of my head; he obviously read my body language and saw my reaction to his name.

My world continued to spin even after the entrance closed on his dark brown eyes, and suddenly I felt sick and could no longer stomach my dinner.

-

"You must be really good at adapting to your surroundings," Augusta Crouch, my herbology seatmate and self-assigned tour guide, chirped brightly from beside me. She had somehow managed to find out that we had almost all our classes together, "it almost seems as though you know the place better than I-"

I turned confusedly at the sudden end to her normally long rants and turned to the direction that she stared at like a deer in headlights. I caught the gaze of those familiar dark eyes and fought the urge to turn pale at the sight of him. Just the thought of him repulsed me, and somehow, I was supposed to seduce the monster.

He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, directly across from the Transfiguration classroom. He raised an eyebrow as I held his gaze with shielded eyes before standing up properly, back as straight as a ruler, "We have Charms together. Shall I accompany you both?"

Augusta slowly released my arm and I begged Merlin for her to hold on before gesturing towards the opposite direction of Charms, "I am actually on my way to the library, Charms is a soft option in my opinion," I knew she had failed her Charms O.W.L because she had been complaining about it to me earlier, "I'll see you later, (L/n)."

I nodded silently before I met those dark eyes once again. He held out his arm and I forced myself to link mine to his, and so we set off to Charms.

"How exactly was it that you knew we had Charms together but Augusta didn't?" I asked before I could hold my tongue, all muscles in my body were tense whenever I was near him.

"As head boy, I ensure that all students are happy and comfortable." He stated with that charming blank smile that had all the professors swooning.

As soon as we arrived at Charms, I ran out of his arms and situated myself in a seat with a housemate that seemed familiar enough. I sighed to myself as I thought over how ridiculous I have been the past few days I've attended this olden Hogwarts; barely casting a glance to Vold- Tom- but being friendly enough so as not to raise any suspicions. To anyone on the outside, they would assume I was simply playing "hard to get", which was true since I did not want to be "gotten" by this man- boy at this stage- but that was beside the point. I had a mission, and I was sure to complete it.

I bit my lip and decided to suck it up with that determination in mind. I turned to where I assumed Tom would be sitting, found the seat next to him unoccupied, and rushed to sit next to him. He raised an eyebrow at my odd sudden change in behaviour but chose not to comment on it, for which I was grateful. I settled at the table and pulled out the equipment we needed for the class- which Dumbledore picked up for me thankfully- and acted as if I wasn't behaving strangely.

I muddled over what I had to do to grow close with this cold man slowly but surely. Putting on my best frown of confusion halfway through the class, I turned to him, "Tom," he perked up at his name, surprised we were already on a first-name basis but simply raised an eyebrow in my direction, "what exactly does this mean? We weren't taught this material at Beauxbatons."

"Weren't taught one of the most basics of basics in Charms?" He raised an eyebrow at me incredulously, and though I didn't appreciate the passive aggression behind his tone, I ignored it and continued to play dumb and shrugged. He sighed and although I could see he didn't exactly, believe me, he proceeded to explain it to me, and with that, he concluded that he needed much more time than what was left in Charms because he gave me a time and location before I could ask any more questions, claiming "A tutor session will do you some good, (L/n)."

Now the plan was in motion, all I had to do was go along with it.

-

Spending time with Tom hadn't proved to be as difficult as I had assumed. He was pleasant company if you didn't think hard about what he was sure to become- and it was just that. He wasn't Voldemort at this point in time, not yet at least. However, when the occasion came up, I'd see a glimpse of what a true monster Tom could be. Like the time he had ridiculed a third-year for bumping into my side, eyes growing black as if he was taken over by another soul. Or the time he had deducted points from a Hufflepuff second-year for spilling pumpkin juice on his lap; if looks could kill, that poor second-year would be good as dead. Now that I think about it, not a day has gone by in the past five weeks of my stay where Tom wasn't here, next to me.

It was strange, how quickly I had adapted to his presence. Though I would never want to admit it, he was definitely growing on-

"(L/n), aren't you listening to what I'm saying?" Augusta sneered, glancing over at me in irritation, muttering curses under her breath.

I simply sent her a smile of apology, I knew she was growing impatient with my constant daydreams and I was grateful for her short patience but continuing to deal with me, "Sorry, what was that Augusta?"

"Well, you see," Augusta started, getting comfortable in her seat and leaning forward like she was about to share the latest gossip of the moment, which was definitely true from the glint in her eye, "apparently, Golden Head Boy is going to Hogsmeade this weekend."

I raised an eyebrow at her, quite disappointed at the dull gossip, leaning back in my seat to continue eating my breakfast, "And why should that be important to me?"

"Oh come on," Augusta loudly scoffed, quieting down when a few heads snapped in her direction before mumbling under her breath, "you definitely fancy Riddle."

This was my goal, wasn't it? To deceive and convince everyone, including Tom, that I genuinely fancied him.

I simply shrugged at her statement, "What does that have to do with Hogsmeade?"

I continued to play dumb as Augusta rolled her eyes, "Well, he never goes out to Hogsmeade. I'm thinking our broody head boy is going to ask a little lady on a date."

I turned a bright red, something I hadn't realised could happen to me, Augusta grinned nudging my side, head nodding over discreetly toward where I knew Slytherin's table was situated. And now, I could feel it; his stare boring into the side of my cheek as my cheeks turned an unhealthy shade of red as I continued to stare at Augusta, not daring to look towards his burning gaze.

"Don't be stupid," I spat embarrassedly, cheeks slightly cooled down as I reached for my cold glass of pumpkin juice, "you don't know what you're talking about, Gussie. Besides, I'm sure he doesn't fancy me back."

I watched her deflate and grumble in irritation before we both turned back toward our forgotten breakfasts. This was all part of my goal, so why did my stomach churn in guilt at the thought of going on a date with him?

-

I huffed as I raised my bag on my shoulder, I was definitely late. I grumbled as I rounded a corner and bumped into a first-year, muttering an apology before walking as fast as I could in the crowded hall to the library. I thanked Merlin once the doors of the library came into sight and pushed through the sea of students, walking through the maze-like library before coming to a halt before a very irritated Tom who raised an eyebrow at the sight of me, "You're late."

I held back an eye roll, no shit Sherlock, "I'm sorry, Slughorn really knows how to talk doesn't he?"

I sighed in relief as he softened at that, the anger slowly flowing off his shoulders as he got situated in his seat, "He does tend to talk an ear off every once in a while."

It was strange, to have a bond with him. Though, barely a bond at that. I was slowly warming up to him and vice versa. If I didn't think so hard about how he would eventually become a child murderer, he was quite nice company.

Tom was the type of person who could sit in silence and not feel the urge to fill it, a quality I very much appreciated in him. Most of our tutoring sessions were like this, spent in silence with the occasional question every now and then.

We had been meeting for a few weeks now, and it was nearing the end of the first term. I was shocked at how quick the term had gone, it wasn't too different from my time in school, though the generation gap could definitely be felt, it didn't impact my everyday life in this timeline.

I snapped out of my daze, flushing a bright Fuschia, realising I had been staring at Tom a little too long, and he brightened at the obvious fact I was, smirking slightly at my flustered state. I scrambled to the seat across from him, pulling out the parchment containing my unfinished Potions essay prompting me to focus on the essay to distract myself. I heard him chuckle under his breath before seeing him turn back to his essay from the corner of my eye.

Just as I was finishing the introduction to my conclusion, I noticed from the corner of my vision Tom's head perking up as he, what I assumed to be, gained whatever ounce of courage he could grasp. I braced myself internally, already knowing what was coming as I solely focused on the sound of his knee bouncing nervously under the table. It was strange. In the weeks I have known Tom, he never got nervous. Never.

Knowing that he was nervous because of me, made the knot of guilt in my stomach tighter. My head snapped up as he cleared his throat, his way of gaining my attention in all of our study sessions, "Yes, Tom?"

His ears perked up at the sound of his first name, not having yet gotten used to the sound of it being uttered by another student, no matter how close they were. It was always Riddle, and from his reaction, albeit barely anything, he liked hearing it from my lips.

"Tom?" I inquired, growing nervous at his silence. Maybe I had been wrong, he would not be asking me to Hogsmeade. After all, when had Augusta's gossip ever been reliable-

"You know of Hogsmeade, yes?" I smiled at his question, internally giggling like a little girl at how cute he was being.

"Perhaps,"

"Precisely, we shall visit the village this weekend," he paused briefly, "together."

"Are you ordering me around, Riddle?" I jokingly asked, watching as his nerves slowly kicked in and he rushed to his own defence, the walls he had built so high slowly becoming higher, and before he could utter another word I cut in, "Don't fret, Tom. I would love to attend Hogsmeade with you this weekend."

He grumbled at my teasing but softly smiled in victory at my agreeance.

-

I fidgeted with my hands nervously as I waited at the entrance of Hogwarts. I had never been so nervous in my life, not even when I went on a date with Dean Thomas and Merlin, I liked him a lot. I wasn't too sure why I was so nervous about this date. I knew the twist in my stomach wasn't guilt, but instead described by muggles as butterflies, and the thought made me sick. It was now the middle of October, the air was crisper, the leaves were starting to change to a beautiful shade of orange, and my breath could be seen because of how cold it was. Merlin, could Tom get here any faster?

"You came early?" The sudden entrance of Tom's soft voice had caused me to jump, he seemed amused by my reaction, barely squeezing out a grin, "I didn't mean to frighten you, (L/n)."

A major habit I had noticed of Tom was that he hardly ever said the words "I'm sorry" and "thank you". It left a bitter taste in my mouth knowing this, and suddenly the butterflies stopped fluttering in my stomach as reality struck me once again. He is and always will be a monster.

"It's okay, Tom," I said quietly, silently glancing down at my shoes and the fallen orange leaves that littered the ground, "Shall we go then?"

And off we went into the village of Hogsmeade.

-

After our date, if you could even call it that, Tom seemed much more relaxed to be around me. Though, I knew there was a side of him that he had yet to show me. The same side I was to extinguish within him, to remove the darkness and succeed in my mission of saving the very people I loved back in my own time. Tom still had many secrets he had yet confided in me, and I was growing impatient.

As weeks passed by, Tom gradually became more absent in my life, which was a change from spending every day together. He was acting strange and worried me. I sat in my dorm, away from the hustle and bustle of the common room, situated at my desk as I revised my potions essay. Sure, I do not actually have to do the work, but it felt nice to finally be a normal student again. Not having to live in fear of dark wizards, simply studying for the big exams that are to happen at the end of this school year, and not having to worry about my family at home or for my schoolmates. I was safe here.

I was snapped out of my daze of delusion by pecking at my window I glanced up to see a familiar owl, and I was quick to open my window and let the bird in. I hadn't heard from Tom since yesterday's lunch and I was growing worried about his absence. Had he grown suspicious? Did he not wish to pursue me anymore?

I pushed away my fears as I unravelled the scroll Tom had so neatly tied with a silver ribbon.

"Meet me at the astronomy tower, I wish to see you."

A simple sentence had never made me so nervous before. The twist of nerves in my stomach when I had been told of the war could barely compare to the fire that Tom Riddle had just let off in my head. It was past curfew, he knew this. I went over the chances of being caught by the warden and shivered. Maybe tonight he would confess his feelings for you, I shrugged off my thoughts of delusion and quickly moved to change my clothing; I could not let Tom see me in my pyjamas.

As I pulled on a warm jacket and some gloves, winter was heavily kicking in as November came to an end. I sighed as I slowly climbed down the steps that led to the common room and slowly made my way to the exit. I glanced both ways before setting off in the halls, I could not be caught. My pace picked up until I was essentially running to the astronomy tower, desperate to know just why Tom had summoned me so late in the night.

I came to a stop at the top of the stairs leading up to the astronomy tower and quickly found Tom leaning against the railing. I stopped to catch my breath quietly, hoping he hadn't heard my heavy breathing out of embarrassment.

He stood in glorious silence. To this point, I had never seen a beauty that could compare to him, a rose would shy away at the sight. His pale skin glowed under the moonlight of the full moon, cheeks softly kissed by the cold, the pink skin I so desperately wanted to caress, to keep it away from the bite of the winter frost. My mouth stood agape as I soaked in his presence, not wanting to tear my eyes away from the pink that blushed his cheeks. When my eyes dropped to his lips, I almost stumbled over my own feet. Never in the weeks I had been here had I wanted to kiss Tom as much as I had wanted at this moment.

"Tom?" I barely squeaked out as he finally acknowledged my presence. His raven hair bounced softly as his head turned in my direction.

He simply sat down, not yet saying anything as I took that as a cue to join his side. I kept a small distance between us, I knew he didn't really enjoy it when his space was invaded. I ignored the way he glanced at me at that and instead waited for him to speak.

He seemed conflicted, I knew he had to be if he were as absent as he was. He was lost in his head, though his expression had been set in stone, I had never seen eyes so vulnerable. I quietly reached for his hand that sat between us, surprised at how cold they were, resting my hand over his to comfort him in whatever mental battle he seems to be having at this moment.

"What do you wish for the future?" His question surprised me, that was the last thing I expected to leave those lovely red lips.

"I never expected you to dwell on such questions, Tom." And that was the truth. From the start, Tom seemed like a realist, not one to dwell on the what-ifs of the world.

"I don't," he paused, clearly now deep in thought as he slowly entwined our fingers, "as graduation approaches, I think of what my true ambitions are; what I want from this lifetime."

"Oh," and that was all I felt I could say. I didn't know what exactly when wanted my answer to be. Would it change anything? A question I so desperately wished to ask. Would my answer save the lives lost?

I closed my eyes, reminding myself this was Tom. My Tom.

My eyes opened and the darkness of Hogwarts momentarily consumed me as I zeroed in on those dark orbs. Tom consumed me as he held my gaze for what felt like an eternity. Swimming through pools of tar, drowning in the thick substance; suffocating, slow but deep and passionate. His eyes reflected his soul almost perfectly; dull, dark, naive.

To remember the humanity in Tom feels almost inhumane, yet here I was under the November moonlight, drowning in the deep passionate pools of Tom Riddle.

"I'm not too sure," my voice managed to conjure a sentence, my brain a mess yet my heart speaking, "but, this is nice."

Tom seemingly softened at that, not so much his body; his shoulders remained frigid, his knees tight and his knuckles white. But his eyes, his eyes spoke his deepest fears, his deepest desires. The hardness they once held melted slightly at that moment, and that feeling lingered in my stomach as I continued to drown in his gaze. He hummed, in what I think was agreement, as we sat in silence soaking in the moment, "This is nice."

-

Winter had completely settled across the horizon of the Highlands as the full force of the unsightliness of winter came across Hogwarts harshly. The land was painted white, almost as if a thick layer of wool had settled across the whole of the school grounds. Winter was my favourite season in the school year; shorter days called for longer nights of sleep, and colder days called for warm teas around the fireplace.

Winter also brought about a certain coldness, a darkness that consumed the lands, the songbird no longer being heard across the campus as you roamed, only the echo of your footsteps sounded. That was all I heard now, my footsteps echoing as if I was followed, but I knew the sound all too well, the scrape of my sole against the ground, the uneven tempo of my feet as they pattered across the halls. I hated the silence brought about the halls, especially at night.

Meeting with Dumbledore, especially under my circumstances, was not uncommon for me for the duration of this school year, but as winter break fast approached, a plan of sorts would need to be compiled. Where I'd be staying for the break, and further details according to Dumbledore.

As I came to a stop outside of the Professor's office, I braced myself before knocking thrice. The door swung open as Dumbledore stood at the opposite wall of the room, "Good evening, (L/n)."

"Professor," I acknowledged as I walked before his large desk, taking note of the door shutting on its own behind me. Well, I thought, not on its own.

"I assume you are curious as to why I called for you at this hour,"

"I can't say I'd be surprised Professor," he smiled softly at the jest, gesturing to a chair behind me as he sat in his own.

"I was not wrong," referring to his letter from the future laying upward on the desk, "your skills of Occlumency are prodigious, as you must see as is Tom with his Legilimency."

"The most talented I've encountered, sir." My reply sounded almost empty, dull. I understood now why Dumbledore of the future was so insistent on my participation, and I see why Dumbledore of the past too trusted within my ability. Not often you hear of a brain impenetrable by that of Lord Voldemort.

"I see your efforts with Tom seem to be fruitful," he said, almost carefully, "your efforts are not wasted, especially for Riddle. After all, it is okay to feel, you see."

I hardened at his words, my shoulders growing rigid as he spoke, "It is my mission after all, Sir."

"(Y/n), that is not-"

"Do not worry, sir. This mission will not be one I will fail for you; saving my friends, my family is of utmost importance."

He paused, watching me almost methodically as he pondered for a beat. He held my gaze, watching silently before letting out a hum, "I see, as you were, (L/n)."

My stomach turned as I returned to my bed for the night, most definitely from guilt, I just didn't know why I felt guilty. For Tom? My friends in the future? My family? Dumbledore?

I felt helpless, with everyone's future in my hands, the lines of rationality and irrationality blurred as my reality began to distort, and yet all I could think about was Tom. What is it I want from this lifetime?

His question rang in my head, from the moment I left the office, to the moment I laid to rest.

-

Entertaining the mere thought of liking Tom had slowly become an easier task. Growing comfortable with the idea, albeit not ideal, was a part of the process, of falling with Tom. Falling for someone is similar to that of a trust fall, the other would be there to catch you, and to trust the other you must catch them when they fall. To fall for someone is to trust them with your soul and wholeheartedly feel it is reciprocated. And so, even if just for a little, I'll let myself fall for Tom; ulterior motives or not.

Falling for Tom smells like pine trees, feels like a warm summer breeze, and the naivety that once glimmered in his eyes has saturated me. Falling for Tom sounds like rough waves slamming against a cliffside, the seaspray gently caressing my face as he washes over me.

Is this what I want from my lifetime? I'm unsure.

The Black Lake is vast and dark, as though it could swallow the sun whole, leaving us in the darkness. The surface is disturbed, one, two, three, "Bugger!"

My head snaps to Tom as he reaches for another flat stone. He catches my gaze and quickly raises an eyebrow as he readies his arm to skip a stone yet again, "Amazed?"

I bit my tongue and held a smile at his sarcasm, "Your talents never cease to baffle me, Tom."

His ears wiggled at the sound of his name, and I thought of a conversation I once had with Dumbledore, "Is it true no one calls you that?"

His brows furrowed and his head tilted softly to the side, not understanding my question. Seeing his confusion, I ask again, "Tom, I mean. Does no one call you that?"

As my eyes fell over him once again, I noticed he was not looking beyond the horizon, everywhere but me it seemed. In his lowest voice, "Well," he paused, clearing his throat so his voice came out clearly; assertive, "it's because I don't let anyone call me that. It's quite simple."

I paused for a beat as I pondered, "You let me."

Not so much a question, more so a comfortable statement. I watched as his shoulders shrugged softly in the corner of my eye. I knew why others hadn't called him Tom, he had no clue of my knowledge, but the fact hurt, knowing what he not only thought of his father, but himself.

"You never asked," my stomach turned at that. Had I not asked? I felt almost foolish, foolish at my comfortableness, at my relaxed state around him, I hadn't yet asked-

"You didn't-" he stopped, it was the first I had ever heard any type of fumble fall from his lips, "You didn't need to," he looked almost frantic, frantic for Tom that is, "ask, that is."

I smiled as his eyes met mine for the first time, and I was drowning again.

-

As I had returned to my dorm for the night, a neat scroll was waiting for me at my window, neatly tied with a silver bow, it was easy to guess who it was from, and even easier to guess the contents. I barely had time to open the note before I threw on my shoes and headed off into the dark comfort of the halls of Hogwarts.

The astronomy tower creaked louder than the Whomping Willow as I approached, and the harsh winds pinched at my cheeks and nose, I could barely imagine how cold Tom would have been. He had confided after a few visits here that he would often wait here for hours as he couldn't really predict what time I'd return to my dorm. With that thought in tow, I ran up the stairs to the best of my ability.

Tom stood beneath the moonlight in all his glory. Although, a dark cloud hung over him. Many would simply think of it as evil, the evil that is so inherently entrenched in him, it could be anything but. This darkness, was a darkness that consumed him, the vast darkness that would consume the light that shone from him.

As I reached the summit, Tom glanced over at the sound of my sole scuffing against the top step, my staggered breaths filling the room. He visibly relaxed at the sight of me, probably having thought I was danger.

"You're here," yet again, another statement. Most of our nights started similarly; simple. That was one of my favourite traits of Tom, his simplicity was a naivety that has been of great solace; a contrast from the life of constant fear and spontaneity I once lived. I hummed before taking my place next to him as I had many nights before.

We had come to talk, we always do. Tonight felt different, the burden he seemed to carry with himself every day seemed to feel like the world on his shoulders at this very moment. He looked fragile, vulnerable almost. His shoulders sunk in like a small puppy, abandoned with no care. After a long silence, Tom spoke out in a loud voice, as if to convince himself he was confident rather than me, "My name,"

"It belongs to my father," he paused for a while as if waiting for questions, but I already knew all the answers, I knew who he was.

"My father," his voice shook as he took a ragged breath, "was a muggleborn. That is why I despise my name. It was from his filthy bloodline of which I obtained that name."

"Tom.." My voice cracked softly as his eyes turned black, he looked as if he was almost in a frenzy, his hair out of place, his eyes frantic, saliva swinging from his red lips.

"My weak, pathetic mother named me after him." His eyes were now red as he refused to meet my gaze, "Not even he wanted me. Yet, here I am," his breaths accelerated, "a spitting image of him, of her stupidity. Her naivety."

"Strangely enough," now he met my eyes. Tom has the fiercest of eyes I've ever to lay eyes upon, and to see those very orbs shattered. It is a pain indescribable, "I've grown to like it. Used to hearing it. I would want to hear you say it as often as I could."

I was unsure of what he was asking, whether it was my hand, my friendship, my companionship. But none of that mattered to me, not anymore. I reached for his hand that settled between us, "Okay, Tom."

His demeanour changed in that of an instant, his hand moved from under mine as he turned to me now fully, "I wish to tell you something."

It was only now that he faced me that I saw how weak he looked. I instinctively reached for his cheek, his cheekbone protruding as I brushed my thumb across it. My mouth opened and closed as I searched for the words.

"I have been strongly thinking about that conversation we had," he paused, looking into my eyes for recognition and continuing once he had seen it, "about the future."

"I suppose, you have heard of the rumours," for a moment, I wish I didn't, I wish I could play stupid and be betrayed by Tom, be shocked by the revelation of his darkness. Darkness I know all too well, "I am here to say they are true."

It seemed as if the wind had stopped and the howling of the tower had been silenced, a pin could drop.

"All of them. Myrtle, Hagrid- All of it." Here Tom was confessing his sins before me, searching for relief, for atonement for the hurt he had caused. Sitting before me, kneeling before me with his big, dark, naive eyes.

"Even," he paused as he took a deep breath, "those of the horcrux. Horcruxes, there are two. Were two."

His eyes met mine again, and I was drowning all again, though this time felt real. The water was in my lungs suffocating me, and I was running out of time, "I would give it all up- I have given it all up. That is not what I want to do with my lifetime. I'm not really too sure what I want to do,"

He took my hand in his this time, clutching my right hand in both as if I were as gentle as a feather, as fragile as glass.

My left hand gripped tightly at my wand as I brushed my thumb along the back of his hand, unable to meet his gaze, tears obscuring my vision. This is all too much.

"It seems that I may have started to," my ears started to ring, "possess certain feelings for you, (L/n)." My heart was thumping in my ears at the announcement. It is too much, no.

“When we had first met," he paused, calculating his every word as I gripped my wand tightly in my hand, "why was it that you flinched at the mention of my name? You wouldn't a clue as to who I am, wouldn't you (Y/n)?"

His question caused me to tense up, my grip somehow getting tighter on my wand I felt as if it may break in my grasp, “You cannot do this to me!”

His booming voice caused me to flinch, jumping back at the sudden loud voice, “Tom-“

“No. You don’t understand, (Y/n). I gave up the dark path that was destined for me, to love you, to ensure that I could be the perfect man you wanted- no, needed. I haven’t the heart to believe that you cannot do the same for me.” His words tugged at the knot of guilt deep in my stomach, clawing at the knot in order to untie it, for me to succumb to his wishes and stay here, to not fulfil my mission, to love him to my fullest ability.

"I sacrificed everything for you.." Tom choked, his voice barely above a whisper, and his tone ate away at the guilt in my stomach. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed down the guilt that threatened to flood out, "I destroyed myself for you."

His shout made me flinch. The betrayal, the pain in his voice almost made me regret it all. He had trusted me. Trusted me enough to destroy the few Horcruxes he had which he made and destroyed with his own hands. He had let his walls down and let me into his heart, his bed, his arms.

I couldn't say a word, I knew if I opened my mouth I'd regret what I was going to do, "You're a monster. A cruel monster. I should've seen through your facade, under your skin. And, like a fool, I thought I was deserving of your love."

It was never a facade, I so badly wanted to yell at his red eyes. His weak state made this feel so easy. I never wanted to admit it to myself, but I loved Tom Riddle. I loved his smile, his wittiness, his charm. If so for a moment, I'd lay my guard down. I peeled back the tall wall I had built, brick by brick. If even for a moment, I wish for Tom to feel my love. To be loved to the fullest of my potential, the full force of the lifetime love I harboured for him. For Tom, my Tom.

But now, that love amounted to nothing.

And so I raised my wand and muttered that sickly unforgivable curse.

[chuusposts]

thorn princess

summary: diluc, zhongli, ayato with a shy/assassin/female! reader

warnings: violence, bombs idk, mentioned of hysteria(?)

notes: heavily inspired by mommy yor and her hot husband (/^ ་། ^)/

+ broken english (maybe)

more: a little information about you; you are either (fake) dating or married to them because apparently being a single woman at your age kinda sus. that and you are implied to have a brother (and a deceased parents ahuahahha) in all part :)

diluc - secure a wife

darknight hero's operation. an operation given to him, as the darknight hero, to stop whatever the fatui was planning. he was starting to get worried, especially since the people of monstadt are getting more curious day by day about the identity of the darknight hero. how to keep the people of monstadt from any harm without revealing his identity? how to stay low and not get caught as the darknight hero? should he get a partner to avoid the people's suspicion?

"oh well..." the male sighed as he straightened his body to sit properly. "i guess i'll just secure a wife."

and that's how he obtained the 'secure a wife' mission. that's how he secured you.

when you met him at a tailor shop a few days ago, you asked him a favour to be your date for your friend's party. it's not like you must bring one, but you didn't want to worry your brother since you lied to him and told him that you have a boyfriend. of course, he accepted it but he asked you something in return; to be his wife in the meantime. whilst he didn't state the reason, you still agreed to it.

this whole mission is to keep his identity a secret, so how did both of you end up like this?

a fatui's car crashing onto yours and diluc having a hard time explaining to you why the fatui were following him. there're also a few fights here and there between him and the fatui hence why he didn't realize that someone was trying to ambush the both of you until you had to kick him and accidentally sent him flying.

you gasp upon realising what you just did and kept apologising to him saying that you're still amateur and shouldn't have involved with his matters when he suddenly chuckled.

you halt your sentence as he brought himself to stand up, "thank you, y/n. how amazing! you sent him flying!" he said, smiling. you silently thank the dark alley as blush slowly starts to form on your cheeks as well as your ears.

nonetheless, he swiftly grabbed your wrist and sprinted when he heard another voice searching for the both of you. "i'm sorry to bring this up at a time like this..." you ponder for a moment before asking him, "...but would you like to get married?"

"huh?" it seems like your question caught him off guard when he suddenly stumbled on his steps making him fall on his face, "what?" "just something like an extension of our terms..." he can clearly see how nervous you are when you start to fidget with your hands and fingers, "apparently single woman such as myself are found to be suspicious, so to blend in... in order to continue my job as an assassin as well."

"w-what i'm trying to say is... rather than just pretending to be your wife, what about making it official? for our mutual benefits!" you might be in a state like a tomato right now, but that's the only way. he's probably the only person who'll accept you for who you are.

but what you didn't expect was for him to immediately agree to your proposal when he suggests to stop by the city hall on the way home and get the process started, "oh, that's right." he stop mid sentence and searches for something in his pocket. his facade dropped when he realised that the ring he was supposed to give you was no longer there.

"bastards!!" he grabs your shoulders and quickly bring you behind a big steel box, "shoot 'em dead!" and a lot of gunshot sounds can be heard after that.

when he makes it there, he takes off a grenade's safety pin "y/n, in times of sickness..." and throws it to the fatui, "and in times of sorrow," it felt as if time stopped as he slid the safety pin in your ring finger and held your hands dearly, "whatever difficulties may come,"

*boom*

"let us help each other."

zhongli - fake boyfriend

'is there anyone special?'

'i guess it's odd that she's alone in that age.'

'of course, you're welcome to bring a date.'

you were thinking about your co-workers and brother's words that kept ringing in your head; your friend, had invited you to her party that will be hosted during the weekend and even though she knew you didn't have a date, she still asked you to bring one. you looked in the mirror, and then to your dress that was slightly covered with your victims' blood, "it's impossible... the only housework i'm good at is cleaning up."

at least that's what you thought, until...

"i was just thinking how beautiful you are."

lately, people has been really cautious of zhongli. not because they know he's a former god whatsoever, it's because he knows too much; whether it's about the history of liyue, the god of wealth, or what happened during the previous archon's war. normal people would think he's just a person that loves history, but apparently that's not the case. he has been really careless these days and his actions almost coused him to reveal his true identity.

so when you told him about the problem you were facing, a thought crossed his mind, 'maybe having a fake girlfriend would not be so bad...'

but never in a million years you thought he would ditch you on the day of the party. currently it's half past seven and you haven't even seen a single strand of his hair. you sigh, eventually give up and decide to go to the party by yourself.

you knocked on the door a few times before your friends invited you in and asked you where your boyfriend is. it looks like they don't believe you even after you explained that your date had some urgent business to attend to. of course they don't, it's not like you were saying the truth. they're slowly getting on your nerves especially when they had the audacity to talk bad in front of you about how you're just a girl who can't get a man.

'such a nuisance. if all adults here die, maybe my brother won't find out that i came here alone...'

you shake your head in denial. you can't just go killing people like that, that's not how your job works.

as you make your way to the chair in the corner of the room, you notice how everyone is either with their partner or children. they look so... happy, eyes shining brighter than those ores at the chasm. a family, something you thought that you will never have. 'it must be what it's like, to be normal...' maybe your brother wanted you to be like them.

guessing that you don't belong here (and probably never will), you pack your things and decide to leave, gathering your friends' attention, "i'm sorry... i'm going to excuse myself-"

'slam' you jolted and let out a small yelp when the door slammed open and there he was, standing at the door frame beside you with blood dripping from his forehead, "i apologize for being so late! i'm zhongli, y/n's boyfriend."

is he okay? he looks dizzy... why is there blood anyway? shocked by what just happened, you still hand your handkerchief to him. but it's not just you, every single guest in the room is alarmed. zhongli had to calm everyone down by lying that it was just some hilichurls that had ambushed him while he was on the way hence why he's late.

"you must be joking. you have a boyfriend, y/n? why didn't you say anything?" your friend asked.

you look away in embarrassment and murmur a "i- uh... but i did tell you..."

"mr. zhongli, did you know?" but it seems to you that your friend has no plan to back out as she brings her tipsy self closer to him, "i heard she had a shady job before she came to our workplace! what was it? men would call you and you'd go to hotels to give them massages! how scandalous! bla bla bla "

you close your eyes, too ashamed to look at your boyfriend. at this point, you might as well stop working at your workplace and give up being an assassin.

"it is admirable." ...huh? you look at him as if you're asking him for an explanation.

zhongli smiles, taking your hand in his and giving it a little squeeze, "i heard you lost your parents when you were young and had to work hard to look after your brother. it must be hard to continue working at a young age and taking care of your brother both at once. that's something you should be proud of."

it requires more than just determination to endure and continue hard work for the sake of someone or something, at the expense of oneself. he knows it very well, he knows it more than anyone else.

usually, it was always you alone. but when there's your boyfriend standing beside you right now, even if it's fake, surely you will feel a lot warmer tonight.

ayato - royal chef

you're probably not aware of this but, ayato doesn't fail to notice how you have been coming home late recently. as this is only a marriage of convenience, he tries not to stick his nose into your business. but he's not the type of husband to ignore his wife at all. he also notices how you have a gloomy and sollen face, and numerous cuts on your hands every time you come home.

he wants to tell you how worried he is and how badly he wants to talk about it, but you're always exhausted and always in your own room, not even bothering to touch the food thoma prepared for the both of you. as the head of the yashiro commissioner, he has every right to be suspicious of you.

well, that's his point of view.

you, on the other hand, just finished buying groceries with a murderous look on your face and was on your way to your friend's house.

a few days ago, you had asked your friend to teach you cooking because your ability in cooking sucks and what kind of wife doesn't know how to cook? last time when you tried to take thoma's place and cook for ayato, he was in the bathroom all day. if this continue, your marriage (and your job as an assassin) will be in danger as he will get tired of you and rid you out of his life. it's a recipe for disaster if neither the wife nor the husband can cook.

so here you are, looking forward to learn cooking from her again. her husband even invited your brother to taste your dishes. but then again, maybe you should just give up...

"how in the world does this happen with a peeler?! it's a pool of blood!"

"like i said, you're cutting it too small! just cut it normally!"

"hey! why did you cut the cutting board? that was my favorite!"

you're lucky that she's nice, only a little cynical.

anyway, your first dish is complete, time to taste the food! it looks uh... yes, very edible.

as soon as your brother put it in his mouth, he swore that he could see his ancestors waving at him asking him to go to the afterlife with them. you could say the same to your friend and her husband as you see their almost lifeless body lie down in front of you. maybe yakisoba was too advanced for you, so let's make something easier like omelette rice.

"it's delicious! it's so good that i'm breaking out in a cold sweat!"

but wait, something's weird. is he... eating and throwing up at the same time? his face is turning blue too.

"as i'm tasting this flavour, my childhood memories are rushing back to me. wait, i'm seeing someone... is that our deceased mother?"

"stop! stop for a second, my guy!"

your friend sighed, and suddenly an idea popped up in her head, "hey, don't you remember something delicious that your parents made for you? just as reference."

and that's how the real cooking lesson started.

the next night arrives and you're so excited to finally cook for your beloved husband. oh right, you even invited ayaka and thoma to eat together as a token of appreciation for everything they did to you. they had a little doubt when you said you're gonna cook for them, but they still let you. ayato's suspicions also died when you tell him that you were secretly learning how to cook.

"it's done! the fried egg kind of lost its shape, but... please enjoy!"

ayato smells it as he takes a spoonful of the stew soup you just made just to make sure they're safe to eat. with hesitation and his heart beating faster than the speed of light, he finally puts it in his mouth.

"it's delicious!"

they say simultaneously. their facial expressions says it all as they continue eating, "ayaka likes this!" and "it tastes very comforting." could be heard in the dining room.

seeing their faces look so happy while eating... it brings back so many memories, especially when your mother used to cook for you when you were still small. it touches your heart how such a little gesture can bring so much happiness to them.

you cover your face as tears start to dwell up in your eyes. you thought that you had to protect this life in order to continue as an assassin. but having all of them approve of you, and seeing their laughter, just simply makes you so happy, and it makes you want to continue seeing them like this.

[atlasscrumpit]

Dark Platonic Miguel x Reader

(warnings - abuse, manipulation)

You walked along the streets with four of your school friends, they had helped you sneak out to go get ice cream together.

"Your dad is really intense, we're dead if he finds us." One of your friends said as you chuckled a little.

"I-I know... He's a scary guy, I know he's just trying to protect me." You muttered in reply as you made your way to the ice cream store.

Just as you were about to enter you heard someone call your name, causing your blood to run cold.

You and all your friends turned around and saw saw your father standing there glaring at you.

"All of you leave." He growled as your friends looked at you and quickly ran away as fast as they could.

You groaned and rolled your eyes.

"We were just getting ice cream! That's it!" You shouted as he continued to stare at you.

"Did I say you could?" He growled as he stalked forward.

"It was just ice cream... I'm not coming home." You growled, stepping back a little as he stalked forward.

"If you want to make this a little bit better for yourself you'll drop the attitude and come home." He warned in a low voice as you looked at him.

"Fine..." You grumbled as he grabbed your arm and pulled you along the street.

"Not a word until we get home."

--

You sat on the couch where Miguel paced in front of you.

"I thought we were over this, Y/N." He growled as he finally stopped pacing and glared at you.

"It was just ice cream." You grumbled looking away from him.

"If you say ice cream one more fucking time I will beat you!" He shouted as you flinched a little.

"I'm sorry... Okay? I just get so fucking cooped up here." You said before he grabbed your chin roughly and made you look at him.

"Where did you learn that language? Was it one of your friends?" He said as you looked at him in disbelief.

"I learnt it from you! You literally just swore at me!" You said before he pulled back and slapped you across the face.

"Enough! I can't even fucking look at you anymore. You're so disobedient, what happened to my little girl?" He asked as he knelt down and made you look at him again.

You felt tears in your eyes.

"She grew up, and she realised that you're an abuser." You growled as his eyes darkened and his grip on your chin tightened.

"Abuser? Say that again, go on darling call your daddy an abuser again." He said as you looked at him in fear, more tears building in your eyes.

"Come on! Say it!" He screamed as he grabbed your hair and pulled you forward.

"No! Because you know I'm right!" You screamed as he began to chuckle dryly.

He threw you back against the couch and then stood up.

"Do you want to see what a real abuser would do? Huh? Do you wanna see what my parents did to me? I think I should because then maybe you'd listen to me." He growled as you hugged your knees to your chest and began to cry.

He sighed and shook his head.

"Fuck... Baby, I'm sorry." He whispered as he sat beside you.

"Darling, I'm sorry. You worry me so much and I think I'm losing my sweet little girl. I can't lose you, babygirl." He whispered as you looked at him while you cried.

"I don't want you to hurt me anymore." You muttered as he held your cheek in his hand.

"Well, maybe if you were actually a good daughter I wouldn't have to do it, would I baby?" He said as you started to cry more.

"Why don't we make a deal? Why don't you go back to being daddy's good little girl and daddy won't get angry anymore? Does that sound good, sweet girl?" He asked as he wiped away your tears.

"Okay... I can do that." You whispered as he smiled and kissed your forehead.

"That's my good girl."

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Ties That Bind

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Reader

WORD COUNT: 6707

WARNINGS: canon typical cousin-cest

SUMMARY: After spending most of your childhood in the Red Keep, it’s hard to let go of the bonds you’ve formed even with war on the horizon.

A/N: It's been over a month since HOTD and I'm really rusty with writing so if you see bad writing, pretend you don't xx Please reblog, like, or leave a comment! I love hearing from you guys 💛

You were only two years of age when your mother, Laena Velaryon, and father, Daemon Targaryen, left you in King’s Landing while they went to deal with some business in Driftmark. Looking back, it’s unlikely that they intended for your stay to last longer than a few moons.

The weeks stretched into years, and as you began to serve as your Aunt Alicent’s ward, your parents had more daughters – your sisters, Baela and Rhaena. They visited once, after your cousin Rhaenyra had her son Luke. Your mother had hugged you so tight and for so long that you feared she would never let go. And your father…he couldn’t stop looking at you.

Only a few years after that visit, a raven came to the Red Keep from Pentos. Laena Velaryon was dead. Your Uncle Viserys was gentle enough while delivering the news. He sat by your side, ready to console you if you cried. When you didn’t, he felt safe dismissing you from his chambers.

“She’s in shock.” you heard Alicent whisper as you left the room. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it would not hit you until you were at the burial.

That was not the case.

Long after Lord Vaemond’s eulogy and everyone returned to the castle, you stood on those cliffs staring out into the sea where your mother’s body now lay. It was a strange feeling knowing that she was gone. You felt the loss in your heart, but there was no grief, no pain…you were not even certain that you would miss her.

A part of you was ashamed to feel that way, which is perhaps the reason why you felt the need to hug your father tightly when you were reunited for the first time in years. You wanted him to believe you mourned her as your sisters did. And you hoped being with your family would help you feel that pain. It was a misguided hope.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of gravel crunching under approaching feet. It was Aemond.

He walked over and stood beside you, searching the horizon with his eyes to spot whatever it was you were gazing so intently at. With you being a few years older than him, you stood a head taller, but he was growing fast.

Eventually, he realised that you were not looking at any specific thing and turned his gaze to you. He looked at you through squinted eyes due to the gusts of wind blowing his long silver hair into his eyes.

He examined your face for sometime before asking, “Are you sad?”

A simple question it was not. You thought of how you’d feel if your cousins, or Uncle Viserys and Aunt Alicent died and knew that you’d be inconsolable. You would not feel this…numb.

“I don’t know,” you chose to answer as you turned to face him, “She was my mother and I’m sad she’s gone, but…I never knew her really.”

Any grief you felt was over never getting the chance to know your mother.

These were not thoughts you’d share with anyone, but Aemond wasn’t just anyone. With no dragons to claim, you chose each other. He was your closest friend and ally, and you were certain that there was not a single person in the seven kingdoms that knew your heart better.

Aemond slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. He knew how conflicted you were without the thought being expressed, and he wanted to be your comfort.

You looked down at him and smiled softly, “Thank you. For coming to make sure I was alright.”

“Mother sent me,” he said quickly, sounding flustered. He never liked admitting how much he cared.

“Of course she did,” you chuckled just as a blush coloured his cheeks, “Come, let’s return inside.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were not sure how late it was. All you knew was that you’d been put to bed a few hours earlier but had chosen to read while your sisters snuck out of the room. That reading was interrupted by chatter and yelling coming from down the hall. You would not describe yourself as a particularly nosy child, but the amount of voices made you curious as to why so many people were awake at this hour.

Following the voices, you approached a room where the noise was loudest and pushed the door open. Your father, Daemon, was standing by it and as you looked around the room, you realised that everyone was here; your sisters, Rhaenyra, her children, Aegon and Aemond, your Aunts Rhaenys and Alicent, Uncle Viserys – there were even members of the Kinsguard present.

Aemond was sitting on a chair facing away from you, his mother standing in front of him. As your father pulled you closer to him, you meekly asked, “What happened?”

“Aemond stole Vhagar!” Baela spat harshly as she glared and pointed at him

You shifted your gaze to Aemond who had slightly turned around at the sound of your voice. As soon as your eyes landed on him, your blood ran cold and the air seemed to leave your lungs. There was a jagged scar running down the left side of his face, and his eye was swollen and stitched shut.

Without thinking, you slipped out of your father’s hold and brushed past your sisters, Rhaenyra and her children to reach Aemond, ignoring the looks from everyone in the room.

Aemond looked hesitant as you raised a hand to his face, your fingers brushing his cheek, but even that was too sensitive and he winced in pain.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked back tears asking, “Vhagar did this?”

He shook his head and looked at his mother. You turned to face her and saw her burning gaze focused directly at Rhaenyra who was bleeding from one arm and shielding Luke with the other.

Realisation dawned on you in that moment. “Luke?” you gasped as the boy cowered behind his mother. You couldn’t believe it. What reason could he possibly have had to hurt Aemond?

“There is no need to start this quarrel up again,” Rhaenys said, “We should get the children cleaned up and put them to bed.”

Everyone nodded, mumbling words of agreement as they started to clear out the room.

“Come, Y/N,” Daemon reached out a hand as he summoned you from across the room.

You stared at him for a moment then looked at Aemond whose eye was still on you.

“Uncle Viserys?” he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised, “Please may I go with Aemond?”

Viserys looked over your head, no doubt to your father, before letting out a sigh. “Of course, you may,” he cracked a smile, “But don’t stay awake too late.”

You smiled thankfully and returned to Aemond who was being helped out of his chair by Alicent. Almost everyone had left the room now, but Daemon remained by the door, watching you. You took Aemond’s hand in yours as you walked out of the room with Alicent and the Maester trailing behind you.

Alicent allowed you stay with Aemond for the night. She knew that both you and her son needed each other that night. He was laid on his back facing the ceiling, two pillows cradling his head to minimise movement. You climbed into bed beside him when he’d finished his tea and held his hand gently under the blankets.

“Does it hurt terribly?” you whispered after staring at him for a while.

“It did,” he said, “But the Maester’s tea is helping.”

You could see him trying to turn his head to face you completely, but wincing every time he moved it. It broke your heart to see him in so much pain. You didn’t realise when you started to cry.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” you spoke through tears as you squeezed his hand.

Aemond was quiet at first, but then you saw a tear roll out of his eye and disappear into his silver locks. “I thought you would be angry with me.”

“Angry?” you asked, wiping your eyes, “Why would I be angry with you?”

“I thought– Baela and Rhaena said–” he started through sniffles, “I should’ve given you a chance to claim Vhagar before I did.”

He thought he had stolen your chance at having a dragon, and that you would resent him for it.

“Vhagar chose you,” you reassured him, “She wasn’t mine to claim.”

Aemond seemed to blow out a breath of relief as more tears rolled down the side of his face and into his hair.

You decided to change the subject to make him a big happier, "Once I find a dragon, you could teach me how to claim it."

"And then you and I can go flying together," he said, his tone sounding lighter, eager, "We could race each other around King's Landing!"

"We could fly anywhere we want," you said, intertwining your fingers with his, "Just us."

Aemond did his best to look at you properly as a soft smile formed on his lips, "Just us."

You moved up in the bed and hugged him close. He didn't say anything even when your tears surely soaked through his shirt, and so you didn't let go even after he'd fallen asleep. Not even as you drifted off as well.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was dawn when you suddenly woke up. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. You glanced over at Aemond who was finally sleeping soundly. He'd woken up twice during the night crying in pain. Only milk of the poppy could ease his plight and allow him to return to his slumber.

The Maester said it would remain like that for next few nights. Alicent seemed even more terrified for Aemond, but you didn't care. You were going to stay by his side and help him through it. When he woke during the night, you whispered that promise to him over and over again, and his body seemed to calm.

Carefully, you slipped your hand out of Aemond's and climbed out of the bed. You gave him one last glance to make sure he was still sleeping before tiptoeing out of the room and returning to your own chambers.

As soon as you entered, you came face to face with your handmaiden, May.

"My Lady," she curtseyed, "Your father is expecting you in Princess Rhaneyra's chambers."

It was an odd request, but you went anyway. You noticed that your sisters were not in their beds and assumed they would be with your father as well.

When you finally arrived at Rhaenyra's chambers, Daemon was visibly annoyed. He turned to you, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Where were you?" he asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.

You nervously glanced at Rhaenyra who was standing beside him before explaining yourself, "Uncle Viserys said I could go with Aemond."

"Yes, to escort him to his chambers, not spend the night," he snapped, eyes burning deep into you.

His anger was unexpected. You and Aemond had practically shared a bedchamber since you were small. He would often climb into your bed late into the night and you into his. After some time, Alicent no longer cared to send you off to separate rooms, knowing come the morning, you would be found curled up next to each other sleeping soundly.

Of course, your father wouldn't know that. He was never there.

"I'm sorry, father," you bowed your head, mostly to avoid his eyes.

"It does not matter," he grunted, "I called you here to tell you that we will be returning to Dragonstone today."

The news was unsurprising considering what happened to Aemond. It was good they would be gone while he recovered.

"I need you to go and pack your things," he continued, "We will be leaving soon."

You froze. He could not be suggesting what you thought.

"Why?"

"Because you are coming with us," Rhaenyra answered. Coming from her lips, it sounded more like a declaration.

You began to panic as you looked between the two. "But…I don't want to," you said as you took a step back, "I wish to return to King's Landing."

They both seemed taken aback by that. Rhaenyra shared a glance with Daemon before stepping closer and taking your hand.

"Y/N, your father is going to Dragonstone. Your sisters too," she smiled encouragingly as she crouched down slightly, "Don't you want to be with them?"

"I want to go home," you snatched your hand away, suddenly terrified of how this situation may unfold. You couldn’t leave. Not now.

Not once did Daemon shift his stance. He just stood there, weight resting on one foot as he stated, "We're your family."

It was true. But your sisters had never needed you, and you questioned whether your father ever did either. What had changed? Why did he want you with him now that your mother was gone and Aemond needed you the most?

"Aemond is family too," you whispered, your gaze never leaving your father's.

Daemon rarely lost composure, but in that moment you saw anger awakened in him. He titled his head and narrowed his eyes before moving closer to you.

"That little cunt stole your mother's dragon," he hissed, "Your dragon."

That set you off. Your fists clenched at your sides and your skin felt like it was burning.

"You cannot steal a dragon," Daemon reacted to that like you had spit in his face, "And I don't want to go to Dragonstone, I don’t want to leave Aemond. I want to return to King’s Landing with Uncle Viserys.”

Daemon was silent as he watched you. He meant to intimidate you, but you were too angry to be affected. Rhaenyra’s eyes were trained on him, seemingly concerned about what he might do.

"I am your father,” he said after a moment’s silence, “You will do as I say."

He brushed past you as he walked out of the room and that was that. Tears began to well in your eyes as you looked down at the ground. You promised Aemond that you would be there for him. You promised…and then you didn’t see him for six years.

***

In some ways, being on Dragonstone had not been the worst thing imaginable. You cherished the opportunity to form relationships with your sisters, and your cousins Jace, Luke and Joffrey. But even as you grew closer to them, they could not replace the people you had lost.

For a time, the relationship with your father was improved. It was only in recent years when his many attempts to have you betrothed had been rejected by you that your relationship soured. You could not provide him with a reason for your rejections despite the suitability of many of the matches, and so he washed his hands off of you.

Your father loved you. You knew he did. But he loved other things – and people – more. It was a reality you came to accept in the years living with him.

When Rhaenyra announced that the family would be travelling to King's Landing on short notice, you could barely contain your excitement. You did not care that it was to go and defend Luke's claim to the Driftwood throne, all that mattered was that you were going to see your family again.

Arriving in King’s Landing on dragon back for the first time was surreal. You did not wait to see the Senryr taken into the dragon pit by the keepers, nor did you wait for your sisters or cousins when you landed. The only thing on your mind was finding Aemond and...well, you did not know what you would do or say yet. But you knew you needed to see him.

Starting at Aemond's old chambers, you were surprised to find Alicent coming out of the room.

"Aunt Alicent," you breathed as she wrapped you in a hug.

She was beaming when she pulled away, even stepping back to take in your appearance. "Y/N," she gasped and cupped your face in her hands, "How you've grown!"

You smiled and looked to your feet as heat rose to your cheeks. "How is Uncle?" you asked, offering a sympathetic smile.

Her face immediately dropped, eyes glazing over as her lip twitched. She didn't have to say it. It was as everyone feared – he did not have long left in him.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded, accepting your condolences before plastering another smile on her face, "Were you looking for Aemond? He'll be on his way to the throne room. For the hearing."

"I'll go there now," you pecked her cheek and hurried down the hall.

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The sheer amount of people filtering into the throne room was clear indication to the importance of this particular hearing. Rhaenyra was standing with your father at the very front of the room on the right side of the aisle. You bowed your head and briskly walked towards them to stand with your cousins.

On the opposite side of the aisle, you spotted white hair very similar to yours on three heads. One of them was sweet Helaena, and Aegon was more than likely the man standing next to her looking bored. Towering over the both of them was Aemond. His hands were clasped behind his back, long hair cascading over his shoulders. The eye patch gave him away instantly.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you saw him, and as if he’d heard you, he snapped his head in your direction. Even from this distance, you saw the way his eye widened ever so slightly upon making eye contact. Every inch of you wanted to dart across the room and throw yourself into him, but you knew what the consequences of such a public display would be.

Where you were anxious and jittery, Aemond froze at the sight of you. He'd gathered that you were in the Red Keep when he encountered his nephews in the courtyard, and yet he was still so unprepared to see you again. Instantly his walls began to crumble and he found himself scrambling to keep them standing.

You smiled at him and he melted, but he could not let you see that. Instead of returning it, he turned away from you and faced the Iron throne. It was an unexpected action, but it didn't hurt yet. Perhaps he had not actually seen you.

You kept your eyes on him for the rest of the hearing, hoping to gain his attention – to no avail. When the entire farce of a hearing was ended, you tried to call out to Aemond, but he disappeared amongst the crowd of people.

He spent the rest of the day avoiding you, much to your frustration. It is why you were glad to hear that Viserys had requested to have his entire family join him for dinner. Before Aemond could protest or find another place at the table, you occupied the seat next to him, hoping it would force him into acknowledging you.

It did not work.

Despite being sat right beside him, Aemond made no move to speak to you or even look in your direction. He was actively ignoring your presence, and it would be a lie to say it did not cut you deeply.

It remained that way for most of the night. At one point, he actually turned his chair away from you to watch Jace and Helaena dance. It wasn’t until after his toast to your cousins and the scuffle which followed that he acknowledged your existence.

Everyone but you was on their feet, a few guards held Jace and Luke back as Aemond stared your father down. For a brief second he glanced in your direction, a second that felt like a lifetime, then he turned, hummed to himself in annoyance, and strutted out of the room. Without thinking about it, you rose to your feet and followed him out, ignoring the stares of confusion from your father and Rhaenyra.

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Outside Aemond's room, you raised a hand, intending to knock, but decided against it and pushed the door open. The two of you never knocked in the past, why should it be any different now?

Aemond was sitting in a leather chair by the fireplace, one hand resting on the arm while he cracked the knuckles of his other hand. He paused when you entered and tilted his head slightly to see you with his right eye. Once he confirmed it was you, he turned back to the fireplace, not acknowledging you at all.

You scoffed and looked around the room, spotting a gold chalice and some wine sitting on a high table on the opposite side of the room. You walked over to it and filled the chalice before approaching Aemond. He finally lifted his head to look at you when you held out the cup for him.

“What are you doing here?” the smoothest Valyrian danced off his tongue as he accepted the wine from you.

You smirked and raised a brow. “He speaks,” you said, “I was beginning to fear that you had taken a sacred vow of silence. One that only applies to me, of course.”

He scoffed and took a sip of the wine, ignoring your comment. Despite his attempts to pretend you didn’t exist, you did not miss the way his body tensed as you sat down on the arm of the chair.

“Your Valyrian has improved.” Improved was an understatement. His accent was perfect.

Aemond shook his head and downed the drink before rising to his feet. “‘Tis impolite to enter one’s chambers without first knocking,” he said, his back to you.

The hostility was less amusing now and increasingly annoying. “You’ve grown bitter,” you narrowed your eyes at him from where you were seated.

He turned to face you and cocked his head to the side, “I’d like to think I’ve grown honest.”

“It was unnecessary,” you said, referring to his toast.

He smirked when he caught on to what you were talking about. “It was fun.”

You cracked a smile at that and Aemond’s lip twitched, his eye gleaming. Slowly, you pushed yourself off the chair and walked closer to him. He didn’t even flinch when you came so close that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you.

“You don’t talk as much you used to,” you whispered, your tone sad “You don’t smile either.”

He seemed so…guarded. He was looking at you like you were some kind of predator that he had to protect himself from. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but feared how he might react.

“Much has changed,” he said with the tiniest shrug, “It has been six years.”

Six years of yearning, you wanted to say.

Time had passed, it was true, but that did not explain why he felt so far from you. Or why he’d been ignoring you since you arrived. Bonds like the one you shared are not so easily damaged, nor broken.

“You have changed,” you said, eyeing him in the least discreet way possible.

He too drank you in unashamedly, taking his time from the bottom of your embroidered silk dress, to the top of your silvery-white, curly hair, before finally meeting your gaze. He looked seconds away from saying something, or doing something, but then he caught himself and shook his head.

“As have you,” he chose to say instead. The words came out steady, but when you glanced down, his fists were clenched tight. You reached out to take his hand and he moved back.

"Why are you being like this?" you snapped, though you never raised your voice, "What have I done to upset you?"

He was taken aback by your straightforward question. His plan had been to maintain a wary distance from you until you left again. He did not want to dig into memories of the past...but he couldn't deny you answers when you looked at him with such desperate and confused eyes.

He licked his lips and confessed two words, "You left."

You stepped back in surprise. That was it? Of all the things you may have done to earn such a cold reception from him, leaving him all those years ago never once crossed your mind.

"What?" you practically spluttered.

“You abandoned me,” he reiterated.

“Aemond, you can’t possibly be angry with me over that,” you smiled nervously though you were confused, “You must know I had no intention of leaving you.”

His voice was measured, unemotional. “And yet, you did.”

“I was a child. I could not have prevented them from taking me anymore than you could have.”

He was unconvinced and looked away from you.

“Aemond.”

He didn't respond.

“Aemond, would you look at me.” You grabbed his chin to force him into facing you. With reluctance, he met your gaze.

“My mother had just died. And seeing you hurt that night, pained me more than standing at her funeral,” you whispered it like a dark secret, “That is how deeply I care for you.”

Aemond was stubborn – more so than you – but his features softened at your admission.

The day he woke to find that you had left was the worst pain he had ever felt. He'd been inconsolable for weeks, even attempting to fly Vhagar to Dragonstone and bring you home. But when the tears dried and the irrational thoughts quieted, Aemond came to understand what he had to do to move on. He chose to forget the things he had lost. He chose to forget you.

Despite what you’ve admitted, you do not look away from him shyly, or run away in embarrassment. You keep your gaze steady so that he knows your heart is true.

Your voice trembles slightly as you lower your hand from his chin and ask, “Do you understand?”

He hesitates before nodding slowly. Not once since the day you left had he allowed himself to imagine that you might say anything like that. He spent years hating that you were his weakness. Resenting the fact that years later, he still felt the ache of missing you when he lay in bed at night and you were not there beside him.

And even though he successfully hid his true feelings from everyone else, he could never fool himself.

“I’ve often thought about that night,” he muttered so quietly that it was as if he was speaking to himself, “When I do, this,” he points to his eye patch, “is not the loss I mourn. It is you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

“You cared for me?”

“I breathed for you,” he said, then dropped his gaze to the floor in embarrassment, “I fear I still do.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, "Aemond, why would that be something to fear?"

He looked up from the ground and met your eyes with an intensity that made your smile falter. Your heart began to race as he took a step closer, and almost instinctively you moved to him.

He raised a hand to the side of your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. Then he let his hand fall to your cheek where he stroked it gently and lightly brushed your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You sighed and leaned into his touch, raising a hand to his and holding it just where he cradled your face.

"I fear it," he started as he looked over your face, committing every detail of it to his memory, "because you will not stay. And you are not mine."

"Now is not then," you whispered, "If you want me, Aemond...then I am yours."

With that, he leaned down, his lips hovering over yours as he paused to take in your scent – sweet and earthy – before capturing them in a kiss. He knew that after this there was no returning to what once was. There would be no 'forgetting' this time. He knew this, and he eagerly accepted it.

His hands gripped your waist. You pulled him closer, wanting – no, needing to disappear into him. His scent, his touch, his kiss. It was dizzying, euphoric, and you fell into him happily.

"We must stop," you breathed between kisses, "Anyone could find us."

Aemond didn't respond as he chased your lips fervently.

"We must stop," you repeated, this time gently pushing away from him. You stopped to gather your thoughts, one hand pressed against his heaving chest. You could not look at him, no. If you did, you feared you would not leave this room again.

"We ought to return to the table," you said as you began walking to the door, "You and I have been gone for too long, they will begin to search for us."

You waited by the door until you heard Aemond's footsteps follow behind you. He stopped beside you, one hand on the door handle.

"You'll stay this time," the familiar lilt at the end of a question being asked was missing, but the hesitance in his voice and the pleading look in his eye showed he was asking.

You slipped your hand into his, just as you had done so many times as children, and with conviction answered, "I promise."

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By the time you returned to the dinner table, most of the food had already been cleared away. Luke, Jace and your sisters were dressed in their cloaks and being escorted outside by the guards while your father and Rhaenyra spoke to Alicent and Otto.

You shared a confused glance with Aemond before approaching the four.

“What is happening?”

Your father's head snapped up at the sound of your voice. “Come,” he motioned you over, “Your things are already in the carriage outside.”

“In the carriage?” you frowned, “What for? Where are we going?”

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, "Back to Dragonstone."

“But we've only just arrived,” you chuckled, "Why the hurry to leave?"

An answer was not given, but Rhaenyra's quick glance over your shoulder to Aemond said it all.

“We never intended to stay long,” she offered instead.

Your father motioned you over once again, “Say your farewells then go and get Senryr.”

The request came out like a man ordering his pup to fetch his shoe. He had no sympathy for the position he was forcing you into yet again, and did not care to pretend to show compassion to you. His daughter. It did nit make you sad, it made you angry.

“No.”

Daemon reacted as though you had just slapped him across the cheek.

“What?”

You stepped back to stand by Aemond's side. “I said no,” you repeated, jutting out your chin, “You cannot make me leave, Father. Not again.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I am not asking, Y/N,” he spoke slowly, “You will do as I say.”

It used to terrify you when he spoke in that intimidating tone, even though you knew your father would never harm you.

Perhaps that knowledge is what gave you the courage to say, “I am not leaving.”

Daemon was not often challenged, especially not by his children. He'd known from a young age that of all his children, you had inherited the worst of his temper. Your defiance was not only aggravating, it was insulting.

He stepped towards you, but before he could take another, Aemond moved in front of you protectively. The bold action stunned everyone in the room — including yourself.

Aemond was a good few decades younger than Daemon and therefore little challenge to your father. His wordless threat only indicated one of three things: stupidity, arrogance, or...

You ignored the suspicious looks thrown between you and Aemond as you placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it gently. He broke his stare down with your father and looked down at you. Upon seeing the pleading look in your eyes, he stepped back to your side but remained close enough that your arm was still brushing against his.

Daemon was seething. He could see what was happening right before his eyes. Many years back when you'd refused to return to Dragonstone, it was because of Aemond. All those proposals you had turned down were because of Aemond. Even your excitement to return to King's Landing – it was because of Aemond.

He'd known all along, but he'd never spoken it aloud, thinking it beneath him to even entertain the idea that his eldest daughter cared for a Hightower – be him Targaryen or not. But how could he ignore it when it was being thrown in his face like this?

"He," he nodded his head to Aemond, "is the reason you want to remain here?"

Rhaenyra quickly stepped in to diffuse the situation. "There is no need for this," she looked directly at you as she spoke before turning to Alicent, "I will see the children back to Dragonstone, then I shall return on dragon back."

That barely seemed to satisfy Daemon. And if Rhaenyra was suggesting that she could return and convince you to leave, she would be in for a surprise. Alicent was the only one who seemed happy with this solution. She embraced Rhaenyra with a regretful smile as Daemon walked towards you.

Your body stiffened as he approached. He glared at Aemond before looking down to address you, "You may not have to choose today, but you will soon."

He gave you a long look before placing his hand on the hilt of Dark Sister and turning to leave the room. Deep down, you knew he was right. Your Uncle was fading fast, and once he was gone, lines would be drawn and sides would have to be chosen. You only hoped that you had some time before then.

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It was difficult to part with your sisters after growing so close over the years. You would miss not having them around, but you knew they would never stay. They still hated Aemond for what happened that fateful night years ago, and neither could understand why or how you were able to forgive him. You didn't know how to tell them that to you, there had been nothing to forgive.

You remained by Aemond's side as Alicent showed you to your chambers, each of you like the other's shadow. Alicent was walking ahead of you and when she noticed you trailing behind, she stopped and turned to look at you both.

She raised a brow as she looked between you. "Aemond, I believe your room is down the other way," she pointed to the hallway leading in the opposite direction to where you were heading.

Aemond glanced at the hallway, then to you, and back to his mother. He seemed lost.

She ushered him away, "You may have spent your younger years sleeping in each others' beds, but there will be no more of that."

He nodded once and gave you a final look before walking off to his own chambers. You followed Alicent to the end of the hall where you parted ways at your room.

She was barely gone two minutes when you heard a knock at the door. You knew who it was before you even opened it. Aemond stood there under your door frame, his shoulders hunched slightly, no doubt feeling guilty for defying his mother.

You didn't say a word, you simply stepped aside to let him in. He kicked the door closed with his foot and moved closer, his knuckles brushing against the back of your hand.

"I want to sleep here with you. If you'll have me."

You turned and walked to a table at the other end of the room. You removed your bracelets, earrings and necklace and placed them on the table. Brushing your hair to the side, you looked over your shoulder at Aemond.

"Can you help me with these laces?"

He looked unsure at first before following you. His fingers trailed along your hip before finding the two laces and undoing them for you. There was a pause as he debated what to do next, then he stepped away and sat down on your bed just by your pillow.

You chuckled to yourself at his level of restraint and removed the sleeves of your dress, letting it fall to your feet. Stepping out of the dress, you could feel Aemond’s eyes on you as you removed the pins and ties in your hair and placed them on the table by your jewellery. There was no seduction in your actions. You were simply undressing, and he was simply watching you do it.

When you turned to look at Aemond, he had already kicked off his shoes and was now leaning against your headboard. He sat up when he saw you approaching, his gaze never wavering. There was so much love in his eyes, but it didn't make you shy, it made your heart race. You stopped when you were standing between his legs, resting your arms on his shoulders.

“How come you let your hair grow so long?” you asked as you ran your hand through his long, white locks. He didn’t answer, however. His eye was focused on something else.

His hand slid the hem of your slip higher up your thigh as his brow furrowed in concern. “What caused this?” he asked as he traced his fingers over two jagged scars on your knee and up your thigh.

“Senryr,” you sighed at the feeling of his touch, “She clawed me when I went to claim her. Tore my favourite dress to shreds.”

“Why did you go alone?” he asked, tracing higher to the very tip of the scar on your hip, “She could have killed you.”

You smiled as you looked down at him. “You claimed Vhagar alone,” he looked up at you as you gently stroked his jaw with your finger, “Perhaps if you’d been there to teach me, she never would have hurt me.”

He laughed then. A low, quiet one, but a laugh nonetheless. It lit up his entire face and made his eye sparkle. You felt your heart swell at seeing him so happy, so content.

You climbed over him and into the bed, slipping underneath the blanket, "Are you going to undress?"

He shook his head and climbed in after you, "I'm comfortable like this."

He lay facing you, his arm resting on your waist as he drew circles on the small of your back over your satin slip. You raised a hand to his cheek and touched the bottom of his scar.

"It wounded me when you ignored me today," you said to distract yourself from the question you wanted to ask.

Aemond chuckled, "That was the intention when I did it."

You rolled your eyes and giggled, but your gaze returned to his eyepatch. What did it look like under there? Aemond noticed your furrowed brows and understood what was playing on your mind.

Your hand hovered over the eyepatch, "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded quickly, and removed it before he could change his mind.

A deep blue gem in the place where his left eye used to be. A sapphire, glimmering in the candlelight.

"Beautiful," you whispered absentmindedly as you stroked his cheek just below the sapphire eye.

He softened and pulled you closer to him, placing a light kiss on your lips. You curled into him and tucked your head under his chin, releasing a deep sigh.

Aemond's hand found yours under the blankets, and he smiled when you threaded your fingers together. There wasn't much he wanted to say. He just needed to be here with you, listening to your quiet breathing and feeling your heartbeat against his chest.