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seungfl0wer · 2 days ago

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*𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝑰𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑶𝒏𝒆*

Pairing: Snake!Hybrid Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Snakes! Mentions of Blood/Stitches, Fork/Split tongue, Oral(F), Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Biting, Two Dicks (kinda double P), Sorry for any mistakes or Missing warnings!

A/N: My animal knowledge really shows here😂

Series Master List

-🖤

It was rare to see snake hybrids. A lot of them hid in fear of how others treated them. Humans were mean creatures, especially to things they fear. They knew that all too well, so seeing a snake hybrid brought into your adoption center was strange. His scales were flakey, eyes stuck with shed. You could tell whoever had him didn’t treat him well.

No one wanted to be near him most of your colleagues staying away some even squealing. However you weren’t scared, did you like snakes? Not particularly, but you knew he needed help. When you approached him in the little container he was in he hissed. You quickly shushed him picking him up to take him to the sink area. You had run him a small bath, just some water for him to soak in. “I can’t believe you’re touching that thing” someone streaked at your side.

“It deserves the same amount of love and compassion as any others here” you retort looking down at him. You cleaned him up helping the stuck shed off before putting him back with a heating lamp.

“Y/n will you take it home?” Your manager had asked.

“Why don’t you want it here?” You glared.

“Listen, most of us don’t like them. He’s probably not gonna get adopted and we also aren’t equipped to take care of him properly. You at least seem to know what you’re doing.” They rambled.

You looked back down at the snake who was now curled up by your hand. “Fine, I’ll take it home, however.” You said with a small pause. “He’s mine as soon as we leave and I want the next few days off to take care of him and help him settle.” You stated.

“Of course-“ your manager started to say before you interrupted him.

“Paid” you said sternly.

With a sigh knowing he wasn’t gonna win he agreed just wanting that thing out of the building.

You put him in your spare room, getting the necessary stuff for his set up. You watched as he explored smiling to yourself. “Listen, I know you understand me. So whenever if ever you wanna become human. This room is yours. You have free roam where ever. You’ll be safe here, and taken care of” you kept talking.

He laid under the heating lamp listening carefully. If he could laugh he would. He’s heard that before. Knowing damn well his last owner started off with “love” but quickly forgot about him. He never got comfortable enough to turn so what made you think he would here he wondered.

As days went on you grew fonder of him, seeing some of his goofy personality shine through. His scales looked a lot healthier, a beautiful dark shade with glints of goldish color in them. They matched his beautiful piercing gold eyes. He hissed at you a lot however never making any attempt at striking. After shifts at work you’d pick him up out of his tank, laying him on the couch as you watched tv. It was one of these nights that it changed.

You had done your normal taking him out laying him on the couch with a heating pad beside if he got to cold. He stayed there as you cooked dinner only to be startled from his sleep by a crashing sound. He could smell blood in the air his fork tongue flickering at the scent. “Fuck!” He heard you yell from the kitchen with a bit of rustling. He was scared something had happened that someone broke in. In his panic turning ‘human’. He ran into the kitchen only to see you on the floor holding your hand that was gushing blood.

“What the hell happened?” He said making you jump. He looked at you realizing he was ‘human’.

“You turned?” You said almost excitedly.

He couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh “that shouldn’t be the focus right now, you’re literally bleeding” he said before grabbing a clean towel to wrap it around your hand.

You watched him looking over his features. He had a sharp jawline, slim but muscular physique, those gold eyes even prettier. When he started talking your eyes found themselves on his pillowy lips. You could see the small peak of fangs and to your surprise his tongue was split. You were just in awe taking him in not even realizing he was talking to you. Not until he lifted your head with his warm hand. “Hello? Are you listening? You probably need stitches” he said looking at you were furrowed brows.

You only nodded eyes still scanning over him. You grabbed your phone off the counter with your other hand calling your neighbor. He came over taking you to the hospital and you did in deed need stitches.

Your snake hybrid cleaned up the mess. He finished making the dinner you were working on before it happened and sat there. Waiting. Agonizingly waiting. When you came through the door he smiled sighing in relief. “Hey! Thanks for cleaning and- wait you finished dinner?” You said surprised.

“Yeah, how’s the hands?” He said.

“Ah well it’s not bleeding anymore” you said with a laugh.

“I can’t believe you cut yourself that deep, what were you doing? Dancing with the knife?” He teased.

“No this was all just a scheme to see if you’d come to my rescue” you teased back making him roll his eyes. “Since I can properly ask you now though, what’s your name?” You asked siting down at the counter.

“Hyunjin.” He said.

“Good now I can stop calling you snakey” you said laughing.

After that moment Hyunjin didn’t turn back for the most part. Sometimes you’d fined him curled up under his heating lamp, other times he’d be curled up on the couch under lots of blankets. Your routine continued coming home, cooking, sitting on the couch with him just watching tv. Now though, he talked back. He got into the habit of curling up against you when you came home. Your body’s heat always feeling so nice to him.

You came home today more exhausted than normal though. A fight braking out between some hybrids at work. You being in the middle of it when it happened. Today honestly wasn’t as normal as you thought. All the hybrids were acting weird around you. A lot more possessive and clingy. When you walked through the door thinking about it more you realized hyunjin hadn’t came out from his tank.

“Hyune, are you ok?” You asked leaning down over the tank. When he didn’t budge you picked him up like normal his skin scales feeling warm. He hissed at you baring his fangs. “Are you mad at me?” You said softly, making him stop. He slithered up your arm before slithering down your leg. He made his way to the bed before turning back to his human like form.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m not mad at you. Ugh” he groaned. “Do you realize you’re ovulating?” He said with a loud groan.

“Am I? Is that why everyone’s been so weird today?” You questioned.

“Probably- god I don’t know how you went to work with all of them. You’re supposed to be mine” he said the end of his sentence trialing off.

“I am yours” you said quickly with out realizing your own words impact.

“Yeah?” He said looking up at you. Those gold eyes had a hint of something in them. “Then let me make you mine.” He said before grabbing your arm pulling you to him.

He didn’t give you anytime to protest before kissing you, his lips warm softer than you’d imagine. His kiss was hungry tongue quickly making its way into your mouth. His hands came down pulling your bottoms down quickly in one swift motion. He was moving so fast, his motions only driven by need. The need to have you all his, a primal need. His sharp fangs grazed your bottom lip as he moved down your neck. It was almost like he was a little vampire with those fangs. He kissed down your body, pulling your thighs up to him.

He licked his lips looking at your dripping cunt “she’s calling me” he said with a smirk before diving into your core. His fork tongue feeling way different from anything you’d ever had before. Both the muscles moving on their own as they lapped at your folds. His fingers came up to graze against your slick before pushing them into you. He curled them hitting a sensitive spot. The moan you let out only drove him to keep doing it. To hear it again and again. Your hands found their way to his long soft locks.

“Fuck Hyune” you moaned out.

“Feel good? Gonna cum on my tongue?” He said with a devilish smile.

You nodded making that smile only grow. He picked up his speed fingers finding another even more sensitive spot. With his pace and tongue lapping at your clit your high crashed quickly over you. Walls tightening around his fingers. He licked a long strip up eyes staining into yours. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep tasting you all over him but he needed to be inside you. Fuck your smell alone was gonna make him nut in his pants.

He stood up pulling down his pants revealing his two curvy cocks. With shock, eyes widen you blurted out “you have two?!”

He couldn’t help but laugh “yeah, you didn’t know? Thought you read up on me” he said. He took your hand wrapping it around the bigger one “this one’s the main one, and th- this one” he stuttered as your hand grazed the smaller one “this one is super sensitive like your clit” he said.

You nodded staring intently at his cocks. He leaned you back pressing his body against your kissing you deeply. He slowly pushed himself into you, the smaller cock rubbing against your clit. He let out a hiss of pleasure before his mind went. He started pounding into you mercilessly. His smacking against yours. The sounds of moans and skin smacking filling the air with the scent of sex. He had his head buried in the crook of your neck his long fangs grazing so gently at it. “I shouldn’t even let you leave smelling this good, all of them got their gross scent on you.” He hissed. “I’m gonna make sure they know you’re taken.”

His thrusts continued fast before he gripped at your legs pressing them against your chest before drilling into you. The new angel letting him hit at your cervix. “Hyunjin!” You screamed hands coming up to touch his chest. He pulled out fully before pushing hard back into you however he felt bigger. You felt more pressure in your core like somehow his cock grew a size. The pornagraphic sound he let out made your eyes snap open looking down you realized why he felt bigger. His smaller cock has slipped in, your cunt sucking both of them so greedily.

“Sh-shit I- I- fuck!” His head rolled back not being able to even speak at the pleasure. The warmth overtaking his smaller cock making it twitch in over stimulation. He snapped his hips back one more time both cocks pushing deep inside of you before you were Cumming. Cumming harder than you have ever before. His body shook at the feeling. Your walls tightening more and more around him. He gripped at your hips harshly digging his nails into you. He cried out as his release finally spilled out painting your walls white.

When you stared to squirm a bit trying to adjust yourself, the movement pushing him deeper into you making him whimper. “D-don’t move” he pleaded. You realized his smaller cock was still hard. You smirked up at him before moving away only to push back on him. He gasped almost like the wind was knocked out of him. His hands tried to stop your movement but one more push back his smaller cock was cumming.

He had the most intense orgasm, his body shook body falling to the side of you. He tried regaining his breath “I’ve- I’ve never- with my smaller” his words coming out choppy but you knew what he meant.

You pushed some of his hair back kissing him softly. “M’sorry for- I should have asked” he said still out of breath.

“It’s ok hyune honestly after today kinda needed it” you said with a smile.

“Gl-glad I could help.” He said nuzzling his head into your neck. His breathing was still heavy as you stroked his back.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @jehhskz @babigriin @kkamismom12 @jeonginsleftcheek

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oceantornadoo · 1 day ago

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when you first start talking to simon riley, you want to check yourself into an insane asylum.

you like to think you’re cool, you’re chill, you’re nonchalant. but he takes eight hours to text back, sending you a “come over.” text at 7pm like he hadn’t just ignored you the whole day. you complain to your friends, of course, which is a terrible move when they tell you to drop him and if he wanted to, he would! and you think he does (want to), he’s just so insanely nonchalant about it. so the next time he comes over, chinese takeout in hand after not texting you back since 8am, you go a little crazy…

you open the door for him, stepping back awkwardly when he tried to peck your forehead. he practically shrugs it off, toeing off his boots before setting the food down on your table. “got tha’ dish ya like.” you nod, forgetting his back is to you. simon unpacks the boxes with precision from the bag, not stopping until it’s all laid out on the table. you’ve been quiet for a while, unusual since you’re the talker of the bunch, and that creeping feeling that’s been sliding up his skin finally sets its hooks in him. he turns around curiously, brows furrowing at the sight of you still standing by the door, biting your lip with a timid look and wet eyes. “love?”

you shake your head with a watery smile. “can we talk?” simon follows you as you walk to your couch, feeling like he’s been dropped into an op with no details. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that you’re hurting and he seems to be the cause of it. “i just…don’t get it. how you’re acting so normal.” you’re twisting your hands together. “somethin’ happen, love? got me confused.” you give him that small, weak smile again and it’s like you’ve stabbed him in the heart. “you- you barely talk to me all day and then you just come over here like it’s nothing. it’s just so hot and cold and i’m wrecking myself over it when it’s so clear you don’t care. i’m just so confused, si.”

simon runs through his memories. he texted you good morning, you texted it back, then he went about his duties for the day until he was finally free to ask about dinner. hadn’t even picked up his phone in the meantime, security risks or just plain busyness being the cause. “‘ve been busy, sweetheart. ‘s why i asked t’ come over when i was done.” you shake your head, biting your lip. “it’s the modern day, simon. everyone’s on their phones. i don’t think you’re as into this as me, and that’s fine, but i just want to know!”

now simon’s the one shaking his head, pulling out his phone. he might not be tech savvy but he does know this move from johnny, the fucker constantly complaining about his screen time. he pulls up the screen time tracker and turns it to you. “not everyone.” you’re a bit shocked to be honest. his screen time is ten minutes for the entire day. a few in the morning when he texted you and nothing until nighttime, when he texted you again. you’ve never seen anything like it.

“‘m not a big texter an’ we don’t use personal phones for work, so it’s jus’ a brick i leave at home or lug around. ‘s nothin’ on you. been thinkin’ about you all day, to be honest.” your mouth is open, honestly. any other man would have never shown you their minute-by-minute screen time, would have begged off the “busy” excuse while having been on social media for four hours. simon, by all standards, is genuinely different.

“so, you do like me?” he nodded stiffly, gloved hands reaching for you. you slid into his lap easily, tucking your face into his neck to hide your heated cheeks. you’d even shed a few tears over this, how embarrassing. “‘course i like you, sweetheart. an’ im sorry if it didn’t feel like it. let’s have it out, yeah?” you nod into his skin and he takes a deep breath, pulling you closer to his heart.

from that day on, you compromise with phone calls. when he’s got a few minutes and you’ve hit a lull at work, he’ll call you. it’s better than any text in the world - hearing his gruff voice asking questions about your messy coworkers or dinner plans. not so nonchalant as you thought.

i wish this was from personal experience but unfortunately for me, it’s closer to the men not responding for days but having a screen time of six hours.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod 141 #simon riley x you #tornadothoughts #ghost call of duty #fluff #angst #simon riley imagine #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x gn reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n

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kateschi · 2 days ago

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through the cold, with you

synopsis: amid the biting cold of patrol, katsuki finds his own way to keep you warm.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: was listening to a song and it went "i would burn my words to warm you up" and i want that kinda devotion tbh

the night air is sharp, biting at your skin as you walk through the quiet streets on patrol. the chill settles into your bones, making your fingers stiff and your nose go numb.

you pull your jacket tighter, but it feels like the cold is winning, no matter what you do.

beside you, katsuki strides ahead, his steps purposeful and his posture as commanding as ever. he doesn’t seem bothered by the weather at all.

you try to shake off the discomfort, but the cold is relentless, seeping through your clothes and making it harder to focus.

you force your steps to keep in line with his, but your movements are slower now. every breath feels like it could be your last.

he doesn’t even notice. or so you think.

another few minutes pass, and you feel your teeth start to chatter.

you glance over at katsuki, his fiery gaze locked straight ahead, his usual scowl firmly in place. h

e’s always been the type to push through anything—cold, pain, exhaustion—and now, it feels like the wind is just another enemy to him.

you, on the other hand, are starting to feel the weight of it all.

just as you’re about to speak up, to mention that you’re starting to freeze, katsuki stops walking without warning. his shoulders tense, and you can hear his breath cut through the air.

you blink in confusion as he turns to face you, his eyes narrowing slightly as they sweep over your figure, taking in the subtle signs of discomfort you hadn’t voiced aloud.

“you good?” he asks, voice still rough but softer than usual. his eyes linger on you for a moment, like he’s waiting for you to admit something, to ask for help.

but he doesn’t push.

you hesitate. he’s been protective of you since you first got together, but there’s a difference between that and actually asking for help.

you try to brush it off, giving him a small smile. “yeah, just a little cold. I’ll be fine.”

katsuki eyes you skeptically. “bullshit.”

you don’t have time to react before he steps toward you. before you even realize what’s happening, his hand is reaching for the collar of your coat.

his fingers brush against your skin as he unzips your jacket without a word, then pulls off the heavy scarf wrapped around his neck.

you open your mouth to protest, but before you can say anything, katsuki is already wrapping it around you, tightening it just enough to offer some protection against the cold.

you blink at him, confused. “katsuki, what—”

“shut up,” he mutters, cutting you off. he adjusts the scarf so it fits snugly around your neck, tucking the ends in carefully. “you’re freezing, and I’m not having you catch a cold.”

he steps back, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he assesses his work.

then, without another word, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a thermos—when the hell did he put that in? “here,” he says gruffly, holding it out toward you.

you take it from him, still caught in the bewilderment of what just happened. the warm liquid inside is a welcome relief to your frozen fingers as you take a sip.

katsuki watches you for a moment, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. it’s like he’s silently making sure you’re okay, his watchful eyes never leaving you.

“better?” he asks, his tone a bit soft. there’s something protective in his voice, the kind of thing you never used to hear from him. you take another sip of the drink, nodding.

“yeah, much better. thanks.”

he huffs, his lips twitching in that small, familiar smirk that only you get to see. “you better be, or I’ll drag you back home and shove you under a heater myself.”

you laugh, the sound warmer than it’s been in the last hour. his eyes soften for a second, and for a moment, you swear you catch a flicker of something affectionate in them before it’s gone.

it’s like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but there’s no mistaking the care he’s showing.

you glance up at him as the silence stretches, a little unsure of what to say next. but he’s already taking a step forward again, his body language a silent invitation for you to follow.

“come on,” he says, his voice commanding as ever. “let’s get this patrol over with.”

you start walking beside him again, feeling the warmth of the scarf wrap around your neck like a promise.

the cold is still there, but it’s manageable now. it’s bearable. and, somehow, his presence seems to push it away, too.

you can feel the heat from his side, the way his body radiates strength, and the knowledge that he’s always looking out for you, even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

as you walk beside him, you try to ignore the soft smile that’s tugging at the corners of your lips.

he might act like he doesn’t care much for these things—gestures of affection, quiet acts of love—but he shows it in his own way. and, in the end, that’s all that matters.

katsuki steps forward again, his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you into his chest with surprising force.

“stop shivering, damn it,” he mutters, the rough edge in his voice doing nothing to hide the concern underneath. his body heat surrounds you as he keeps you pressed close, his hand firm against your back.

you stiffen for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the sudden proximity, but his warmth is undeniable. your body relaxes against his, letting the heat from him seep into you.

there’s something comforting in the way he holds you, like he’s willing to bear all the cold, so you don’t have to.

you tilt your head up slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, which is softer than usual. his face is still serious, but you can see the care in his eyes, the way he’s watching you closely.

for a second, the two of you just stand there, his arms wrapped around you, your body pressed against his.

“and—uh you’re welcome,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

his gaze softens, just slightly, before he turns back and starts walking again, already heading toward the next stretch of their patrol.

a grin makes its way up your face, and it makes your husband blush furiously and press a firm kiss on the top of your head. he is trying to hide—you know that much.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x y/n #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou x fem!reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou x you

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eclips-moon · 2 days ago

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Batboys finding you sleeping in wierd places headcanon:

Damian Wayne

"Bro, you can't keep doing this." Damian finds you sleeping in the weirdest spots, and he's lowkey over it. One time, you're passed out in the Batmobile, snacks everywhere, legs hanging out the door. He just stands there, staring at you like you're the most chaotic thing he's ever seen. “How do you even fall asleep like this?” But of course, he’s not gonna leave you there. He rolls his eyes, adjusts the seat, and tucks you in (very dramatically) like, “Don’t make this a habit.” He’s not mad. He’s just... concerned? But mostly shook by your ability to sleep anywhere.

Tim Drake

“I literally told you to stop drinking so much coffee.” Tim finds you asleep everywhere—face down on a stack of papers, in the middle of the Batcave, on top of the Batcomputer. He doesn’t even act surprised anymore. He’s just like, “Well, I warned you.” One time, you’re passed out on the couch, snacks everywhere, and Tim picks up the coffee cup you definitely spilled while napping. “I love you, but this is chaos,” he says, brushing some crumbs off your face. "Next time, please at least use the chair." He leaves a note with your next coffee: “You’re welcome.”

Dick Grayson

“You’re so cute, but like, also... why???” Dick finds you asleep in the kitchen, spread out on the counter like you’ve been hit by a truck. He can't help but laugh, but also he's lowkey impressed that you managed to fall asleep there. He pulls out his phone and takes a pic (because of course he does). “I’m definitely showing this to everyone,” he says, not even hiding his grin. You wake up mid-photo, trying to act like you weren’t drooling, but Dick just chuckles. "Gonna frame this one." You’re like, “Please, no,” and he’s already texting it to the group chat.

Jason Todd

“You’re literally doing this to mess with me, aren’t you?” Jason finds you sleeping everywhere—on the floor, under the Batmobile, sprawled out on the roof. He’s got that annoyed big brother vibe, like, “You’re going to get a crick in your neck,” but the second he sees you all cute and dead to the world, he can’t help but sigh. One time, he even gently picks you up to move you. You wake up in a daze, and he’s like, “I didn’t sign up for this. But you look adorable when you're asleep, so whatever.” “No need to carry me, I’m fine,” you mumble. “I’m doing it because I have no choice,” he responds.

Duke Thomas

“How do you even sleep like this?” Duke is actually concerned when he finds you sleeping in random spots, but at the same time, it’s kinda funny. One time, he finds you passed out on the floor of the training room, head on a punching bag like it’s your pillow. He’s like, “You... you okay? How does that even happen?” He sits down next to you and gives you a little nudge. “You’re making me look bad, you know that? I’m over here trying to be all cool, and you’re taking naps in the middle of the Batcave.” He laughs but also kinda adjusts you, “Next time, at least use a pillow or something.”

Bruce Wayne

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Bruce, being Bruce, finds you sleeping in the weirdest places—and honestly, he’s just not even shocked anymore. One time, you’re passed out on top of the Batcomputer, legs dangling off the side like you’re part of the furniture. Bruce just stares for a second before doing the whole “I’m-not-angry-I’m-just-disappointed” thing. “Please don’t sleep in here,” he says, carefully moving you to a more... comfy spot (probably your bed, but he’s not gonna say that). He tries to keep it chill, but there's definitely a dad vibe. "You could’ve at least stayed on the couch." You wake up, confused, and he’s like, “Just... don't fall asleep in the Batsuit next time.”

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lottiesviolence · 2 days ago

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Grip n’ Collar

Warning: 18+ Hard dom Sevika, switch Sevika, switch fem reader, power play / dynamics, biting, slight choking, disgusting dirty talk, pussy eatin, finger fuckin, strap-on, breeding kink, Sev is mean and rough, but so are you,, leash/bondage, hint of squirting, cumming strap sighhhhh, sweet ending ofc

Synopsis: You decided to dominate your girl...well at least trying to.

You walked around the house waiting for your girl to come home after a hard day’s work. You wore a black tube top, nipples piercing through the fabric and thin sheer black tights underneath your leather shorts that hugged your ass oh so beautifully. You knew as soon as Sevika would walk through the door she’d only have fucking you on her mind, but this time you wanted to play dirty. You had a few things up your sleeve.

The front door creaked open, and closed swiftly with the kick of Sevikas boot.

“Hey baby I’m home, missed me?” She grinned throwing her keys mindlessly on the dinning table. Her attention was grabbed when she saw you.

In the kitchen there you were, pretty, sexy, you. Your thighs squished against the cold kitchen counter you sat on. Smug look on your face, you swung a leash in your right hand while your eyes fixed on hers.

“I missed you so much baby” You said lowly, spreading your legs open ever so slightly, inviting her. “Get over here.” You commanded, and she didn’t hesitate.

Sev walked over to you, towering you still despite you sitting on the high surface. She crept her hands up your thighs and hips, fingers gripping at your tights and belt loops.

“I missed you too baby, missed tasting you... fucking you.” She said with a mean needy look on her face.

“Yeah? You wanna fuck me baby?” You teased.

“Enough, I’m losing my patience here.” Sterness in her voice.

“You can have me right here, fuck me however you want in this kitchen under one condition, okay?” You hung the end of the leash you had to her face showing her the clip.

“Absolutely not.” Sevika huffed and lit up a blunt, blowing smoke to her side.

“Then I guess you’re not gonna fuck me, such a shame, I wore this hot ass outfit for nothin, I was hoping you’d bend me over the counter and fuck me senseless, but I guess not anymor-”

“Fine.”

She cut you off, putting out her blunt. You grinned knowing how your disgusting words pulled at her heart..and strap. You clipped the leash onto the collar she wore against her neck, giving it a little yank. She moved an inch closer, a sigh escaping her lips.

“You like it don’t you?”

She ignored you and grasped at your hips pulling you closer, she kissed you roughly, tasting of whiskey and smoke. Sev bit your bottom lip, snaking down to your neck, biting and kissing leaving pretty marks all over your body.

You gasped when you heard the rip of your tights, she yanked your shorts down to your hanging feet, and pulled at the rest of the torn fabric positioning herself to taste you.

You pulled on the leash, wrapping it around your hand.

“Did I say you could do that? Huh? Did I give you permission?” You looked down at her, stopping her in her tracks as she was about to bury her face in your cunt.

She looked up at you with desperate, hungry eyes. Not knowing how to respond to your dominance, it confused her, but deep down she loved it.

“Say please.” You demanded.

Her breathe hitched when you gave her another soft yank, pullin her face closer to your dripping pussy.

“Please.. Please let me have you” She hated begging, but she loved you and how you just tasted so fucking good.

Your face was hot, seeing how you had her wrapped around your finger it drove you crazy. You tilted your head to the side giving her a smile, your free hand snaked up to her cheek, she brushed the side of her face into your warmth. She trusted you, poor..foolish.. Sevika.

You gave a harder tug, this time forcing her face into your cunt, sevika groaned in surprise, sinking into your taste, she hummed in satisfaction.

Both your hands gripped the counter, you threw your head back squeezing your eyes shut as she lapped her tongue hungrily into you.

“God! fuckkkk- that’s it baby, such an obedient.. dirty..thing you are.” You spoke breathlessly through your words, desperately clinging onto the little dominance you had left as she ate you out.

Her eyes halfway shut, she bobbed her head in every direction, lapping up your slick in her tounge, rubbin her nose against your clit, moanin into you as she served her girl.

“Gonna cum on my face baby? Should I even let you?” She teased, face still buried between you.

“Have you forgotten, I’m the one who’s in control here?” You didn’t even believe that yourself, blinded by her tongue, you lied straight through your teeth. She always had the upper hand, and god she just fucked you so good.

“Not for long” She groaned, gripping at your sweet thighs pulling you deeper into her. She sucked and kissed at your aching clit. Her nails dug into your skin, she knew you were desperate just as much as her.

Feeling your cunt tighten, you humped her face as she fucked you with her tongue.

“Mmmf fuck! Sev! gonnacumgonnacumpleasepleasee.”

She didn’t say anything, just letting her work do all the talkin. She gave you one last hump before she held your hips down, releasing for air she stuck her thick fingers into you.

You moaned and whispered pleas incoherently, keeping your grip on the leash, holding onto your last drop of power.

She hummed as you took her in so deeply. Watching as your cunt let out sweet splashes of wetness, soaking her fingers. Your top was disheveled from all the grasping and movement, she cupped and groped at your tits with her free hand, making your body tense.

“Cum f’me baby, cum on my fingers and I’ll give you what you want.” She watched as your brows furrowed tightly, she saw how desperately you wanted to be in control, but she knew what you really wanted.

“Want me to fuck you senseless, right baby? Bend you over the counter and fuck my cum into you, that’s what you want?” Her voice low and stern.

“Shut up and make me cum.” You spat, giving her another pull.

She stuffed her fingers into you deeper, moving them slowly, curling them just how you liked.

“Fuckfuckfuckkkk!” You moaned bucking your hips against her as you came on her fingers.

Sevika wasted no time, she stood up towering you once more. Quickly picking you up n’ off the counter. She turned you around, her hips positioned against your ass, your face inches away from the cabinet.

“Fuck, look at you now, all fucked out you can barely stand, and I’m still not finished with you.” Her voice was so low and mean, her big hands rubbed at your flesh as she pulled your ass closer pressing against her hips. You mewled.

“Gonna give me what I want baby? I know how badly you want to..just as much as me.” You teased, looking at her over your shoulder.

“Shut up.”

You heard the clinks of her belt as she took off her pants, her strap bobbing out. You bit your lip at the sight, hoping she’d fill you and fuck you stupid.

She towered over you and sunk her strap into you. Your lips parted letting out a soft moan.

Sev groaned as she thrusted into you quickly, feeling how your cunt stretched for her. Low grunts left her lips, hands gripping at your hips, controlling your movements.

You pulled at her leash, her lips right at the nape of your neck. You looked into her eyes. “Don’t hold back on me now, my pussy feels so good doesn’t it baby? Tell me how good it feels.”

She moaned at how you spoke, “fuck.. yeah baby, feels so..fuckin’ good.. god I love your cunt.” She thrusted into you between her words.

“Fuck..pull it” she huffed.

Your stomach heated up at the demand. She fucking loved belonging to you. You pulled at her again, turning more towards her to kiss her roughly. You both were so fucking hungry for each other.

You kept your hold on the leash tightly, making sure she stays close you, free hand gripped at her thigh as she fucked into you harder and deeper.

“Don’t...fucking... stop.” You begged.

Sevika hunched over your back, cold metal hand on top of yours, grunting and huffing into your neck, she bit your shoulder making you groan in pain.

“You like takin’ this dick don’t you baby? Takin’ it so well f’me.” She groans.

“Mmh yesbabyyesss!” You cried. She gently pushed your head against the cabinet, cold hand gripped in your hair, cheek against the hard wood.

“Fuck, gonna cum baby, cum in this pretty cunt, fuck”

Your eyes fluttered back as her hips smacked against your ass, you drowned in the nasty squelches your cunt made. “Fill me baby, fill me, it’s yours so fuckin’ take it.” Your legs were about to give out any second, but all you could focus on was how Sev just filled you so good.

Sev brought her hand to your clit rubbing it in soft circles as she fucked you stupid. You let out soft pleas, lipstick and makeup smudged by tears.

“G-gonna cum in you pretty, cum on this dick, can you do that baby?”

“Yes baby yes, give it to me” You hassled.

Her grunts and your sweet moans and cries filled the room as she stuffed and fucked her cum into you. Your slick mixing with hers, Sevika pulled out of you and watched as her cum leaked out your throbbing cunt. You hummed in pleasure seeing it drip to the cold tiles.

“God, you fuck me so good ‘vika” You smiled uncoiling the leash from your hand and unleashing her.

“That’s my job gorgeous, finally got what you wanted? Satisfied?” She grinned adjusting her collar.

“Seems like you got what you wanted too Ms. ‘Pull it’.” You giggled.

“Alright alright, let’s run a bath, you can barely stand.” She lifted you and threw her over her shoulder.

You smiled and tucked her hair out of her face to see her grin as your feet swung in the air. Sev patted your ass while taking you upstairs, you both spoke about your fuck session.

“I didn’t know you had that dominance in you baby” Her eyebrows lifted with impression.

“I KNOW right?!? I definitely surprised myself, but it sure didn’t last long” you sighed, which made her laugh heartily.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

💗a/n: Well there's Grip n’ Collar honey’s!! wrote this after noticing Sevs collar/choker that she had to wear while breaking in the prison (its so hot 🥲) This was proofread twice but if there are mistakes please forgive me! This is my first full fic im posting on here!! Many more to cum🙂‍↕️ still working on my subby sevika who gets fucked stupid, so stay tuned!! Hope this left you as wet as it made me 💗

#sevika #sevika x you #sevika fic #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #sevika smut #arcane s2 #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #arcane league of lesbians #Dom sevika

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moonstruckme · 3 days ago

Note

And since you're such an angel, I would love some:

snow angels with doctor!remus

Thank you and please hydrate 💧

Awee you're too sweet to me, thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: blood (not a lot? if that helps), dizziness/lightheadedness

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 686 words

Remus cups your face in his hand, brows woven together in concern. “Did you eat lunch?” he asks you.

“Yeah.”

“What’d you have?” He swipes his thumb gently over your cheek before leaving you, going into the nearby bathroom.

“A sandwich.” You sound a bit defensive, which isn’t strictly fair. You know you gave Remus a bit of a fright when he came home to find you lying on the rug between the living room and the kitchen, too scared to get up. It was perhaps a tad dramatic—you could’ve walked over to the couch if you’d really wanted to, you’re sure—but you didn’t see any point in pushing yourself when you felt so dizzy and shaky on your feet. Remus has taken it as more cause for alarm than you have.

He comes back with a blood pressure monitor and a couple of other things, setting them on the kitchen table in front of you. “That sounds fine,” he murmurs, taking your arm to slide the cuff up it. You have the sensation of swaying in your seat, but you’re not sure if it’s really happening or only in your head. “And it’s been going on for how long?”

“Since maybe two.” You lean sideways so your head rests on his chest. Remus’ free hand comes up to hold it there gently, pinkie stroking the baby hairs by your temple as the cuff inflates around your arm.

“You should have called me, sweetheart.”

“I was okay,” you tell him. “I didn’t really think I was gonna pass out or anything, I just thought it’d be safer to sit down.”

Remus’ hum conveys some disapproval, but he doesn’t seem to think it’s worthwhile to continue arguing with you. The blood pressure monitor beeps, and he leans forward to read it.

“Hm, that’s normal.” He takes the cuff off you with a satisfying ripping sound. You curl and flex your fingers against the odd feeling.

Remus holds your head to his chest with his free hand while he leans forward, grabbing something else off the counter. He takes your hand, but you pull it from his grasp when you see what he’s holding, sitting up.

“Remus,” you whine.

He chuckles at your tone. “Dove, it’ll be quick.”

You let him take your hand again, but don’t allow him to pull it near that clicker thing. “Is it going to hurt?” you worry.

“No.”

You make a low, petulant sound in the back of your throat. Ordinarily you might be embarrassed for it, but you’re feeling rather self-pitying right now and entitled to some sulking. “Really?”

“Yes, love. Relax.”

Still feeling mistrustful, you allow him to pull your hand closer. He pricks the pad of your finger.

“Ow—Rem!”

“It’s okay,” Remus shushes you. “All done.”

“That hurt,” you complain, vindicated, as he collects the bead of blood on a reader.

“I know,” he admits. “It does, a little. But only for a second, yeah?”

You make your displeasure known through your silence.

“Look.” Remus takes your finger, kissing the back. “It’s better now, see?” He brings your head to his chest again, and it’s difficult to keep from softening when he kisses that, too. “Sorry, dovey.”

“It’s okay,” you say, begrudging, only because he really does seem to feel a bit bad.

“Mm.” He reads your blood sugar. “You’re at ninety two.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s normal.” Remus holds your cheek again, looking down at you and stroking pensively with his thumb. You’re not sure if he’s feeling for something or just touching you; you’re happy either way.

He hums softly. “Do you feel tired as well?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Headache?”

You tilt your head back to see him. “What’s it mean?”

“I’ll take that for a yes, then.” His lips curve softly. “I’m not completely sure what it means yet, but I’ve got a couple of theories.”

“Can you fix it?” you ask, though really you have complete faith. Remus always fixes it.

He kisses your head again like he knows what you’re thinking. His lips make a soft landing just short of your hairline. “We’ll see.”

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rafecameronssl4t · 13 hours ago

Text

Bad at love || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sleeping with your enemy’s boyfriend was reckless, but what’s worse is the undeniable pull between you both afterward—a dangerous attraction that refuses to be ignored.

Warnings: cheating, suggestive content

Word count: 3,373

A/n: I actually didn't have much of plot line when I started this but I just kept on writing and writing... ALSO doesn’t this ong give major frat boy!rafe vibes?

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“And you missed Saturday’s practice, which was so important!” Katie’s sharp voice cuts through the chatter of the crowded party as she steps in front of you, arms crossed tightly. Her blue eyes burn with frustration, but you’re barely paying her any attention, your focus shifting to the drink table behind her. With a sigh, you roll your eyes and turn away, brushing her off without a word.

Her tone grows more demanding, her voice rising above the background noise. “You can’t keep missing practices like this! If you keep it up, I’ll have no choice but to kick you off the team.” The irritation in her voice is palpable, her stance stiff with authority she doesn’t seem to realise she’s lost. At her words, you can’t help the mocking scoff that escapes your lips.

Slowly, you turn back to face her, tilting your head as you look down at the shorter blonde. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, Katie?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re not captain anymore, remember?” Her face flushes red, her anger mounting, but you don’t give her a chance to reply. Shouldering past her, you mutter, “Move,” as though she’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience in your path.

“I’m not done talking to you!” she yells after you, her voice carrying above the noise. “Well, I am,” you call back coolly without looking over your shoulder, throwing a dismissive wave in her direction. “Have fun, Katie!” The smirk on your face grows as you reach the kitchen, leaving her fuming in the middle of the room. You shake your head, exhaling as you grab a fresh drink, relieved to be away from her relentless nagging.

You lean against the counter in the kitchen, taking a sip of the drink you just poured, the alcohol beginning to blur the edges of your irritation. Katie’s voice still rings in your ears, but the buzz in your system makes it easier to push aside. She always did have a way of making everything about her, and you weren’t in the mood to entertain it tonight. Spinning around to head back to the party, you stumble slightly, your drink sloshing in the cup as you collide with a broad chest.

“Woah, easy there,” a smooth, amused voice says as a strong hand steadies your arm. Looking up, your hazy gaze meets Rafe Cameron’s sharp blue eyes, the smirk on his face almost as cocky as his usual demeanor. The dim lighting catches on his perfectly styled hair and the faint gold chain resting against his collarbone. He was the frat president, and Katie’s boyfriend, of course. Not that you’d ever paid much attention to him—until now.

“Rafe,” you mumble, your voice slurring just slightly as you step back, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Didn’t see you there.” “Clearly,” he teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a beat too long before he lets go. “You alright? You’re looking a little… tipsy.” His smirk widens, eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips under his gaze.

“I’m fine. Just needed a drink to deal with your girlfriend.” His brow raises at that, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Katie giving you hell again?” He says, his mouth curling into that boyish grin “You could say that,” you mutter, taking another sip of your drink. “She’s always got something to say. Like I’m supposed to care about her opinion.” Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm, and it sends a strange thrill down your spine.

“Yeah, well, Katie’s got a… particular way of handling things. I usually just let her win the argument—it’s easier that way.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Sounds exhausting.” “It is,” he admits with a shrug, leaning casually against the counter beside you. “But she’s Katie. You know how she is.” His voice carries a mix of exasperation and fondness, but there’s something else there too—something you can’t quite place.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” you say dryly, though your eyes linger on him longer than they should. The alcohol is making you bolder, loosening your inhibitions as you study his sharp jawline, the way his lips quirk into an easy smirk. “What about you?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head. “What’s your excuse for being here, drinking like it’s your job tonight?” You shrug, leaning against the counter beside him.

“Needed a break. From life. From her.” You glance up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small smirk. “Guess you’d understand that better than anyone.” His laugh is softer this time, almost genuine, and he shifts a little closer. “Maybe I do.” The conversation lingers, the tension between you growing with each passing second. The party outside feels like a distant hum, your attention locked solely on him.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else entirely, but when his hand brushes against yours, neither of you pulls away. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in closer, and so is he. His lips hover near yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. “This… probably isn’t a good idea,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks conviction. “Probably not,” you whisper back, but neither of you moves to stop it.

The kiss is electric, a mix of pent-up frustration and reckless abandon. It’s messy and heated, your hands finding their way to his hair as his grip tightens on your waist. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to stumble out of the kitchen, his arm around your waist as he leads you upstairs, away from prying eyes. By the time you reach the bedroom, logic is a distant memory, lost in the haze of alcohol and the magnetic pull between you.

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely steady as you lie back against the pillow, your chest still heaving. Turning your head, you catch him already staring at you, his blue eyes darker than usual, shadowed with an emotion you can’t quite read. Your stomach twists, and the weight of what just happened starts to settle in. “I think we’re fucked.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, cutting through the stillness of the room. You groan, sitting up and burying your face in your hands for a moment before glancing around for your clothes. The reality of what you’ve done is pounding at the edges of your hazy mind. Rafe exhales sharply beside you, dragging a hand through his tousled hair as he leans back against the headboard.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low, almost resigned. “No shit.” The awkward shuffle of finding your clothes fills the silence. You spot your skirt crumpled on the floor and grab it, the fabric catching slightly as you pull it up your legs. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips as you fumble with the zipper, your hands trembling. “If Katie finds out about this…” you start, the words catching in your throat.

Rafe rubs his forehead, his expression darkening. “I know,” he groans, his tone sharp with frustration—at himself, at you, at the entire situation. Throwing the sheets off his lap, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans. “I know, alright?” You glance at him as he dresses, his movements brisk and tense, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle twitch.

The easy confidence he usually wears like a second skin is gone, replaced with something rawer. “This was so stupid,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, tugging your top over your head and smoothing it down. You take a shaky breath, pressing your lips together as the full weight of your actions hits you. “What the hell were we thinking?”

Rafe scoffs softly, shaking his head as he zips his jeans. “We weren’t thinking,” he says flatly, his voice edged with self-loathing. “That’s the fucking problem.” For a moment, you just stand there, staring at him. The silence between you is suffocating, heavy with unspoken words and the growing weight of regret. The distant hum of the party downstairs feels surreal, like it belongs to another world entirely.

“I can’t believe I let this happen,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You’re not the only one,” he says quietly, his tone softer now, though there’s still a sharp edge to it. “I didn’t exactly stop it either.” His words don’t feel like comfort, but there’s an honesty to them that makes your chest tighten.

You press your fingers against your temples, trying to piece together a rational thought, but the alcohol still buzzing in your veins makes everything feel blurry and far away. “This can’t happen again,” you say firmly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavers slightly, but you push through, needing to set some kind of boundary before this spirals further. “You know that, right?”

Rafe doesn’t respond right away. He leans against the wall, dragging his hand down his face before meeting your gaze. His jaw works like he wants to argue, but finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he says simply, but the hesitation in his voice makes your stomach twist. His eyes linger on you, trailing over your face like he’s memorising it, and it makes you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you move toward the door. Your fingers curl around the handle, but you pause, glancing back at him. “We need to be careful,” you murmur, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “If she even suspects…”

“I’ll handle it,” he cuts you off, his tone firmer this time. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—determination, maybe—but it doesn’t do much to ease the knot in your chest. With a small nod, you turn and slip out into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you descend the stairs.

The music and laughter feel like a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside you, and you can’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a drunken mistake. But as much as you tell yourself it’s over, the way your heart skips at the thought of him suggests otherwise.

“Want a lift?” The voice, low and unmistakably smug, pulls your attention away from your phone. You lift your head and squint into the afternoon sun to find Rafe sitting in his truck, leaning casually out of the window. His forearm rests on the edge of the door, his fingers tapping lazily against the metal. The faint smirk on his lips is one you’ve come to know all too well.

You blink, momentarily stunned, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me?” Rafe tilts his head, as if you hadn’t heard him correctly the first time. “I said, do you want a lift?” His tone is smooth, confident, like he’s entirely in control of the situation—and it’s already starting to get under your skin. You glance around quickly, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes dart over the school parking lot.

Your stomach churns as you spot the doors to the main building, half expecting Katie and her entourage to walk out at any moment. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you hiss, your voice low and sharp. Rafe doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by your reaction. If anything, the smirk on his face deepens. “What’s the problem? Need me to repeat myself again?”

Before you can fire back, the sound of doors opening grabs your attention. The distinct, high-pitched laughter of Katie and her friends echoes across the lot, sending a jolt of panic through you. Your stomach twists as your eyes lock onto them, walking out in a tight-knit group, their voices carrying. Katie, of course, is leading the pack, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.

Your pulse quickens. Without thinking twice, you yank open the truck door and climb in, muttering, “Fucks sake,” as you scramble into the passenger seat. The door slams shut, and Rafe chuckles, the sound low and teasing as he shifts the truck into gear. “Well, that was easier than I thought,” he murmurs, the truck lurching forward as he hits the gas.

You glance over your shoulder, watching as Katie and her friends grow smaller in the distance. Relief washes over you, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of embarrassment—and anger—as you snap your head back toward him. “What the hell, Rafe?” you spit, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Do you enjoy messing with people, or is it just some kind of hobby for you?”

Rafe glances at you, his smirk firmly in place. “I didn’t force you to get in,” he points out, his tone maddeningly casual. “You’re the one who panicked and dove into my truck like you were running from the cops.” You scoff, throwing him a glare. “I didn’t dive in. I—” You pause, clenching your jaw. “This is so typical of you. Showing up with your stupid truck, your stupid smirk—”

“My charm?” he cuts in, throwing you a sideways glance.“Your nerve,” you correct sharply, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you. Rafe laughs softly, the sound low and infuriatingly smug as he shifts gears and speeds up. The tension in the cab is palpable, thick enough to cut through, but he seems entirely at ease. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Relax,” he drawls after a moment, his tone smooth and teasing. “You got away unnoticed. Katie’s none the wiser. You grit your teeth, turning your gaze out the window. The scenery blurs as the truck tears down the road, but the distant hum of the engine does little to settle your nerves. The weight of his attention is impossible to ignore, like a spotlight burning into the side of your face.

After a long pause, Rafe speaks again, his voice quieter now but still tinged with amusement. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually get in.” You whip your head around to face him, your brow furrowing. “Then why did you ask?” He shrugs, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that maddening half-smile. “Call it a hunch. Figured you might surprise me.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. There’s something about the way he says it—like he’s already won some unspoken game—that makes your chest tighten. You shake your head, scoffing under your breath as you turn your gaze back to the road. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though the words lack the bite you intended.

Rafe’s laugh rumbles softly beside you, and even though you hate to admit it, the sound sends a shiver down your spine. You press your lips into a thin line, determined not to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. “What were you even doing there? Were you following me?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you turn toward him.

Rafe glances at you, his smirk deepening as if he finds your accusation amusing. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/l/n,” he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I was going to pick up Katie.” Your eyes widen in disbelief, your jaw dropping slightly. “You were going to pick up your girlfriend and yet, here we are?” you repeat, your voice sharp and incredulous.

Rafe chuckles again, clearly unbothered by the situation. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wow. Great boyfriend you are,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn to look out the window. “She’s probably going to wonder where the hell you are.”

He shrugs, completely nonchalant. “She’ll be fine. She’ll find a way back.” You whip your head back toward him, your mouth falling open. “Are you serious right now? You left her stranded, and you don’t even care?” “She’s not stranded,” Rafe says, his voice calm, as if you’re the one being unreasonable. “Her friends are there. They’ll give her a ride or something.”

You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back in your seat. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe glances at you again, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back another laugh. “What?” “You,” you snap, gesturing toward him. “You’re acting like it’s no big deal, but if the roles were reversed, I guarantee you’d lose your mind if she ditched you for someone else.”

His smirk falters, just slightly, and for a moment, you think you might’ve struck a nerve. But then he shrugs again, the nonchalance returning as he shifts in his seat. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice quieter now, though there’s a glint in his eye that you can’t quite read. “But I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and your stomach twists uncomfortably. You’re not sure what bothers you more—his blatant disregard for Katie or the fact that a small, shameful part of you likes the attention.

Rafe’s hands move with purpose, sliding under your shirt, the heat of his palms against your skin sending a jolt through you. You know you should stop this—you know the consequences of what you’re letting happen. But in the haze of his touch, every rational thought feels distant, muffled by the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he wants in the world.

He leans in again, his lips brushing yours, but this time, the kiss is slower, deeper. It’s as if he’s savouring you, drawing out every moment. His fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake, and when he presses his body against yours, you feel yourself giving in completely.

Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low, guttural sound from him that sends a thrill through your entire body. He pulls away for just a second, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. “This is insane,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft.

“I know,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that feels too tender for the fire burning between you. “But I don’t care.” And neither do you. Rafe leans down, capturing your lips once more, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, and with your silent permission, he pulls it over your head, discarding it onto the floor.

His eyes rake over you, filled with a hunger that makes your skin flush under his gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, before his lips find your collarbone, then the curve of your shoulder. Your heart is pounding so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers fumbling in your haste.

He chuckles softly, taking over and shrugging it off in one smooth motion, revealing the toned lines of his chest. Rafe’s lips are on yours again before you can fully process the sight, and he gently lowers you onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight as he hovers above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, his piercing blue eyes searching yours. You hesitate for the briefest of moments, the gravity of what you’re about to do settling over you. But then you nod, your hands finding their way to his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m sure,” you whisper. That’s all he needs.

Rafe kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a mix of passion and restraint, like he’s holding back just enough to savour every moment. The world outside fades away—Katie, the consequences, everything. All that matters is him, and the way he makes you feel like the centre of his universe. And for the rest of the night, he does just that.

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amirasainz · 14 hours ago

Note

heyy,

Could i please request an F1 grid x driver reader where its a really hot race and the reader is struggling to keep racing put keeps pushing forward to finish it, and ends up completely exhausted and collapsing, and all the drivers start being really protective towards the reader and act like mother hens

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

The Heat of Qatar

The Qatari Grand Prix was brutal. The desert heat seemed to radiate through every layer of the circuit, and the night race provided little relief. Despite the floodlights, the air felt heavy, humid, and unrelenting. For Y/N, just 18 years old and in her first season with Red Bull Racing, this was her toughest challenge yet. A bright young talent with nerves of steel, she’d handled every twist and turn of the track that day like a pro. But by the time she pulled into parc fermé, her body was at its limit.

As she climbed out of her RB, her legs trembled. She grabbed onto the side of the car for balance but barely had time to steady herself before her vision blurred. The cheers of the crowd and the hum of engines faded into the background as her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the asphalt.

---

“Y/N!” Charles sharp voice was the first to cut through the chaos. He was out of his Ferrari in seconds, sprinting toward her as she crumpled.

Carlos, who had been taking a swig of water, dropped his bottle and ran to help. “Y/N! Are you okay?!” His voice was tinged with panic.

Max jumped out of his car, cursing under his breath. “Bloody hell, what happened?” His piercing blue eyes scanned her pale, sweat-drenched face as he crouched beside her.

By now, nearly all the drivers had abandoned their debriefs to surround her. Lando and Oscar exchanged worried glances, already flagging down the medics, while Lewis and George pushed through the cluster to make sure she had space to breathe.

“Move, give her air!” Lewis ordered, his voice firm but calm.

---

The medics arrived quickly, but the drivers were relentless in their concern. “We’ll handle this,” Carlos said, almost shooing one of the medics away. “We’ve got it.”

Charles was already cradling Y/N’s head, his hand gently brushing her damp hair away from her face. “It’s okay, Y/N. You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his voice soft as he tried to soothe her unconscious form.

Lando crouched beside them, looking at the medics. “What do we do? Is it dehydration? Heatstroke? What’s going on?”

Oscar, his normally calm demeanor cracking, added, “Should we get her more water? Electrolytes? Do you have an IV?”

“Let them work,” Max snapped, but his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He was kneeling next to Y/N, holding a water bottle and unscrewing the cap. “When she wakes up, she’s drinking this. No arguments.”

---

They carried her carefully to the medical center, with Carlos holding her legs and Charles supporting her upper body. Lewis draped his cooling towel over her forehead, muttering, “This will help with the heat.”

Once inside, the doctors began their evaluation, but the drivers were relentless. They hovered like a pack of mother hens, ignoring all instructions to leave.

“Honestly, we’re making sure she’s okay,” Carlos argued when one of the medics suggested they step outside. He was kneeling by her side, dabbing her neck with a fresh cold towel. “She’s part of this family.”

Max handed the water bottle to Y/N, who was slowly regaining consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked at the concerned faces surrounding her.

“Max?” she croaked, her throat dry.

“Drink this,” he instructed, his tone softer than usual. He held the bottle up to her lips and coaxed her into taking small sips. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Charles exhaled a sigh of relief, his hand still in her hair. “You’re okay. Just rest. We’ve got you.”

“Y/N, don’t ever do that again,” Carlos said, his voice trembling slightly. He patted her shoulder and then her neck again with the towel, as if unable to stop himself.

Lewis, who had been standing back, approached with a blanket. “She’s sweating too much—her body might go into shock.” He draped the blanket over her with care, ensuring it didn’t overwhelm her.

“I feel… dizzy,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Oscar, visibly distressed, turned to one of the medics. “What else can we do? What’s the protocol for this?”

“You’re doing everything right,” the medic assured him. “She needs fluids, rest, and time.”

---

The drivers took that to heart. Lando knelt down beside her, his brow furrowed. “Y/N, just focus on breathing, okay? Deep breaths. You’re tough. You’ve got this.”

Oscar added, “You’re the strongest person we know. This is just a bad moment.”

“Yeah,” Max interjected, trying to lighten the mood. “If you can survive working with Christian, you can survive this.”

That earned a faint smile from Y/N, which sent a wave of relief through the group.

Charles continued stroking her hair, his touch gentle. “If you need anything—anything at all—we’re here.”

Carlos, who hadn’t left her side, was now holding her hand. “You’ve been incredible today. The heat got to all of us. Don’t blame yourself.”

Lewis adjusted the blanket slightly. “Your body’s just telling you it needs a break. Listen to it.”

Y/N’s voice was barely audible, but she managed a quiet, “Thank you… all of you.”

---

They stayed with her for hours, refusing to leave until they were certain she was stable. Eventually, Christian Horner and the team staff arrived, but even then, the drivers lingered, their protectiveness unwavering.

As they filed out one by one, Max leaned down and whispered, “Next time, don’t push yourself this hard, okay snoepje? We need you out there—alive.”

Charles, the last to leave, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Rest, Y/N. You’ve earned it.”

Though exhausted, Y/N felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sweltering Qatari night. Her family on the grid had her back, no matter what.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #oscar x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋

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steveslevis · 2 days ago

Text

i love you, it’s ruining my life

azriel x cassian’s sister!reader - part 3 of 3

summary: you finally start to recover from the attack at Windhaven, but struggle with the ghost of your suppressed mating bond.

warnings: mentions of injury and assault self-deprecation, use of painkillers, two idiots in love, lots of angst <3

word count: 9.6k (sowwy <333)

Three weeks, four days and thirteen hours.

That’s how long Azriel stayed away from the House of Wind, from Velaris, to give you space and time to heal.

He would’ve stayed away longer if it hadn’t been for Rhys’ incessant questioning ringing through his mind while he wasted the days training with the soldiers in Windhaven. The soldiers that were left after he and Cassian had banished–or taken care of–the ones who had planned to rebel with Cormac and Balvard.

He would’ve stayed forever in Windhaven, as a punishment to himself for everything he’s put you through by pretending you didn’t even exist for the last four fucking centuries.

But he couldn’t.

Rhys demanded his presence at dinner tonight, telling him that he would have to face this–face you–eventually. Azriel knew that, that he would have to face you. He could handle seeing you again to make sure you were safe once more, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle seeing the fake glare you’d put on at dinner when you looked his way.

Truly, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to be in the same room as you right now, because he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself from telling you to wipe that fake hatred right off your face, from grabbing you by the neck and kissing you in front of everyone, just like he’d wanted to for the last four fucking centuries.

Still, he swallows his feelings and keeps the shadowy wall up around his heart as he heads to the Townhouse, mentally preparing himself to pretend as if he doesn’t know that you, of all people, are his mate.

——————————————————————

Three light knocks on your bedroom door signaled that your brother was on the other side, causing you to hum in response, to which he took as an invitation into the room.

You looked up from your spot on the bed, your thumb wedging between the pages of the book you were immersed in seconds before while you searched for your bookmark that was lost somewhere between your comforter and the fluffy white throw you had laid over your legs.

“You’re disrupting my reading time,” you say to your brother with a glare, finally finding the bookmark you’d been searching for to shove it into your book, “I was just getting to the good part.”

“Well, too bad, your disgusting romance novel can wait.” Cassian says with a grimace, pushing the door open to lean against the frame while glaring back at you, “it’s time for dinner. At the Townhouse.”

A groan falls from your lips at his words, making you shake your head as you toss the book onto the bedside table next to the other books Nesta had lent to you in the last few weeks to keep you from driving yourself insane while bedridden.

“Do I have to?” you say with a frown, forcing your legs over the side of the bed to stand, since you already know the answer to your own question.

Cassian is at your side in an instant as you stand from the bed, making you shoot him another glare when he grabs your forearm to help you up.

“I can stand on my own, y’know.” you snap, shrugging out of his grip as you walk across the room to put on your shoes, “It’s been three, almost four, weeks now for God's sake.”

“Okay, okay fine.” your brother says, throwing his hands up in defeat as you walk across the room with ease. “Just hurry up, we’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.”

You bite your tongue to hold back from throwing another snide remark his way, quickly sliding into the shoes you’d toed off earlier in the day. Dread filled your chest as you turned back to Cassian, slowly realizing that you’d be–well, Cassian would be–flying to the Townhouse for dinner.

The thought of being unable to fly yourself to the home across town makes you feel so empty and detached, like you’re no longer deserving of your spot in the Night court or the Inner Circle. You weren’t sure you could even use your daemati powers anymore to be honest, you’d been so drained mentally and physically that you hadn’t even tried.

You felt so useless and alone and sad and so fucking worthless–

“Hey,” Cassian’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his elbow nudging your forearm lightly as he peers down at you, a smile–one that you can tell is forced–on his face, “you ready?”

You knew he wanted to say more, to tell you to get out of your own head, but held back for the risk of starting an argument. So you only smile up at him and nod, shoving your feelings down as you walk towards the balcony of your room, letting your brother take the lead as he takes to the sky.

The wind against your skin is such a freeing feeling that you nearly forget that your wings aren’t the ones carrying your own body, but Cassians’. The crisp evening air nips at your cheeks as you fly over Velaris, as if the city is welcoming you home after so long stuffed in the House of Wind. A genuine smile crosses your face for a moment during the short flight, heart fluttering as you let the wind welcome you.

The trip is over just as quickly as it started, and you’re being set down on the steps of the Townhouse before you even realize it.

There’s a lone tear trailing down your cheek as Cassian sets you down, causing him to frown at you when he notices.

“Soon, Y/N.” is all he says, smoothing your wind-blown hair down before turning to push the front door open.

Once again you’re forced to push your emotions down, to put on a weak smile as the two of you walk into the Townhouse. You’re greeted in the entryway by Feyre, who hugged you as if she hadn’t seen you in weeks, though she had seen you mere hours ago to drop off your favorite pastries to the House of Wind during breakfast, before pulling you towards the kitchen almost immediately, insisting you come to taste the new wine she’d bought to celebrate with before dinner.

Before you could protest, you find yourself in the kitchen with Mor, Amren, and all three of the Archeron sisters. Mor is the first to wrap you in a hug, a grin spreads across her perfectly red lips as she pulls you in for a gentle hug. Elain follows closely behind Mor, quietly asking how you were feeling as she holds out a plate of fruit for you to choose from as she speaks.

Nesta and Amren sit on the stools on the other side of the kitchen island, both giving you sidelong, but somewhat kind glances as they were deep in conversation. You didn’t take the cold welcome personally, as you and Nesta had become close over the last few weeks in the House of Wind, and Amren was…well, Amren.

Feyre comes up beside you as you chat with Elain, a small and sympathetic smile on her lips as she extends a glass filled with what you can only assume to be faerie wine towards you. Your heart drops as she does, mind immediately thrown back to that moment when you were shoulder-to-shoulder with Cormac, the last time you’d drank wine. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to stomach drinking it again in all honesty. Before you can shake your head in protest, Feyre opens her mouth to speak instead.

“My special faerie wine, just for you.” Feyre says quietly enough for only you to hear, giving you an understanding look as she still extends the glass, “I didn’t think you’d feel up to drinking just yet, but I know how annoyingly incessant the males can be about celebratory drinks, so here,” you take the glass from her hesitantly, giving her a weak smile, “just some sparkling juice, I promise. There’s a whole bottle in there that I already told everyone was just for you.”

You smile at the High Lady, a sparkle of relief lighting your eyes as she reassures you. You had divulged the whole truth to her a week after the incident, letting her see into your mind to understand the extent of the damage that had been done that night in Windhaven, and even divulged a little too much about Azriel in the heat of the moment, too. She had known you felt more comfortable with her than with any man, and in that moment you were grateful Rhys had found an equally skilled mate who could help you when he couldn’t.

“Thank you, Feyre, really, this means a lot to me.” you say genuinely, pulling her back in for another hug, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill at the sentiment.

You cursed yourself for being so emotional lately, but knew there was no stopping the inner turmoil you were dealing with unless you went straight to the source, to Azriel to finally spill your guts, which you knew wasn’t in the cards any time soon.

You spent the next thirty minutes sharing laughs and talking about nothing in particular with Mor and Feyre, only stopping to give Elain input on the new tart she was trying to make for dessert. The empty feeling in your chest from the last three weeks in near solitude was quickly replaced by one of warmth and happiness, finally feeling at home once again in the room full of your favorite females.

It was foolish of you to think the sentiment would last, though. You should’ve known that this wouldn’t be a normal and happy night, that you’d be faced with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You nearly dropped the glass of sparkling juice when you pushed through the kitchen doors and into the dining room, faced with not two, but three Illyrian males at the table. They’re lost in conversation when you and Mor enter, but Azriel’s attention quickly snaps in your direction, eyes widening for such a short moment that you’re unsure if you imagine it or if they actually do. You collect yourself before turning your attention to your brother and Rhys, who both stopped talking to look over at you and the rest of the females walking through the kitchen door.

“Finally done gossiping so we can start dinner?” Rhys suggests as you all begin to take your typical seats at the table, yours being between Cassian and Mor.

Habitual conversations begin as soon as everyone sits down, food soon appearing in front of everyone thanks to Rhys. Things feel relatively normal as you pile the food passed to you onto your own plate, unsure of how much you’ll actually eat of it as your mind wanders back into thoughts of the hazel-eyed, mysterious asshole sitting across the grand table from you.

Every once in a while, you feel his eyes on yours as you pick at your food, as if he’s checking on you. And with every look in your direction, you feel yourself sinking into the chair beneath you, wishing for nothing more than the ability to winnow in that moment.

You felt like you’d fully regressed back to that person you were when you’d just found out Azriel was your mate, the shell of a female that it had made you was once more. You cursed the Gods for making this male have such a strong effect on you, for making you want nothing more than to be with him, to grab him by the neck and kiss him in front of everyone, just like you’d wanted to for your entire life.

But you knew better than that, knew that you had to keep up the act like you hated him as much as he hated you, knew that you would have to wait until that Gods damned bond snapped for him, however long that would take.

So you did what you did best, shooting a glare in his direction the next time you saw him looking your way, in hopes it would keep him from looking your way and make you fall even further into that shell than you already had.

You’d already fallen so deep into that hole during your time at dinner that you barely heard when Nesta said your name, voice sounding like it was coming from miles away.

“Sorry, Nes.” you reply, giving her a sheepish smile, “what’d you say?”

“I asked if you were ready for tomorrow?” she repeated, eyes sharp yet understanding as she looked your way.

“Oh–Yeah!” you say, a laugh falling from your lips, nodding quickly, “Of course, I’m excited to get back out there.”

“Back out where?” Cassian interjected, concern lacing his words as he turned towards you, never stopping his shoveling of the potatoes from his plate into his mouth as he spoke.

“You’re such a pig, finish eating before you talk.” you retort, shoving his shoulder with a disgusted look, “but if you must know, I’m coming to training with the Valkyries tomorrow morning.”

“Training?” your brother says with wide eyes as he drops his fork with a loud clunk onto the plate. “Like hell you are.”

“I am perfectly capable of training again, Cassian.” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him.

He opens his mouth to make another snark, yet protective comment at your words when the world seems to stop for a moment, a humorless laugh coming from the other side of the table, coming from the male who’d been staring at you all night long.

A laugh. He actually fucking laughed at the thought of you training.

Wide eyes from everyone at the table focus on the shadowsinger, the air seems to go still as everyone waits anxiously for the next words.

“Do you have something to say about my training, spymaster?” you nearly snarl at the male who seemed to share an equally annoyed expression with you.

“Like hell you’re perfectly capable.” he says lowly, eyes flickering to your still-healing wings at your back. “You can barely hold your own weight right now, let alone the wings at your back pulling you down and leaving you fucking limping from your back and hip pain. You wouldn’t be able to hold your own training for more than five minutes out there. You’re—You haven’t fucking healed at all. You haven’t been cleared to fly, let alone train in any capacity. It would be so damn foolish to even let you step foot out there.” Nobody dares to interrupt the male as he continues his rant, “I’m sure you’re back on those damn pain killers too, considering you can’t even feel—”

“Azriel—“ Rhys’ voice comes out in a quiet warning as he shoots his brother a glare, knowing exactly where he was going with his next sentence.

Everyone else at the table continues to stare at Azriel, seeing through the facade to see a love-sick and extremely worried male. You, on the other hand can only feel anger radiating off the male, can only feel spiteful words being spewed your way.

“No, Rhys.” you say with a bitter smile, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall from your shimmering eyes, “let him continue, he obviously knows what’s best for me.”

The table is silent at your watery retort, even the previously fuming Azriel grounded by the tears in your eyes.

It hits him like a wall of bricks then, all the regret he had for the foolish rampage he had begun to slip into. His chest nearly caves in as he takes in the scene in front of him, how broken you looked as stared back at him, he could feel the anger and embarrassment radiating off you.

He opens his mouth to backtrack, to apologize, to take back the venom that just spewed from his lips and toward you, toward his fucking mate. But words fail him now, unsure of how he can make it any better at this moment.

“Tell me, Azriel.” you muse bitterly, “do you think it would just be better for me to follow the true Illyrian customs then? Should I have let Cormac and Balvard clip my wings? Should I have let Ci–”

Now Rhys cuts you off with a warning growl, knowing you were about to expose your tragic past in ways you’d regret as soon as they’d fall from your lips.

“No, no.” Azriel shakes his head rapidly at your words, blinking quickly, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Like hell I did,” you scoff, pushing your chair from the table loudly, tossing your napkin onto the tabletop before excusing yourself.

Azriel knew better than to follow you, knew it wouldn’t end well if he tried to.

You sat on the couch near the fireplace only one room over from everyone, listening to their low conversations. Listening as Cassian scolded Azriel, telling him how stupid he was for trying to push you too soon, and how he needed to give you time and space. The wording of your brother’s scolding confused you slightly, but you didn’t care. You only cared about the hollowness that crept back into your chest, the empty feeling from where you couldn’t feel that unrequited bond anymore, likely from the painkillers that dulled any magic within you. So you let your silent tears flow, let yourself cry over the man who you had convinced yourself could never love you, let yourself drift into a sad sleep on the couch, the warmth of the fireplace inviting you into a dreamless state.

Unsure of how much time had passed, you awoke to the feeling of weight on the other side of the loveseat you sat on and a dark breeze passing over your neck, the caress of a shadow over your skin.

Your eyes flutter open and Azriel’s heart almost breaks at the state of you. Your wings are tucked behind you tightly as if you were ashamed of them, eyes glossy from the remnants of sleep and tears, lips full and red from trying to bite back the sobs that threatened to escape before you let sleep take you in. The look you give him is one of confusion at first, but quickly turns to one of frustration then anger at the sight of the male in front of you.

He tries with everything in himself to reach out to you, to your soul, to tell you he’s there, but he can’t get through that haze in between the two of you put up by those painkiller tonics Madja gave you. She’d explained to him that you wouldn’t know that the bond had snapped for him until you were completely off the tonics, your magic was restored to its full power and he willingly uncovered his side of the bond to you. So he would wait, would try his hardest to befriend you and make you realize that he never hated you until that moment actually comes when you feel the snap.

“Before you try to kill me–and rightfully so–” he starts, pushing his hand out in front of you, holding a plate of the tart Elain had made for dessert out to you, “I come with a peace offering, your favorite.”

You narrow your eyes at him, hesitant to take the plate from him at first. But there’s a pleading and truly apologetic look in his eyes, one that makes you give in almost immediately. You take the plate from him finally, gaining a small smile from the shadowsinger that makes your heart skip a beat, though you don’t let it show.

Azriel watches as you take the first bite wordlessly, watching your features soften as you let out a soft groan, mumbling about how good it is.

“How would you know berries are my favorite?” you question finally, setting the fork back on the plate after another bite.

“You and Cass, you’d always give him your melons and he’d give you his berries at breakfast in Windhaven–” Azriel says, cutting himself off when he sees you wince at the mention of the camp, frowning as he speaks, “s–sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head.

“No–no. I’m sorry, for everything.” he replies, sitting up straighter on the couch to sit face-to-face with you. “For being an ass when you said you work alone, for doubting your abilities, for–for acting like you don’t exist for the last four and a half centuries.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say with a sad smile, sinking back into the shell of self-doubt you’d grown accustomed to, “I get it, you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“I–That’s anything but true.” Azriel says, shaking his head quickly, the corners of his lips pulling into a frown. “I know I acted like that but–I want to know you. I want to get to know you and be your friend. I just–just never knew how to approach you.”

Truthfully, he wants to say that he never knew how to approach you without giving in to his desires and without telling you how much he needs you in every way, shape and form.

You look up to him, weary eyes meeting his hazel ones in a curious gaze. You’re unsure if you truly believe him or not, but the look in his eyes seems sincere so you stay silent for now, willing him to continue.

“I wanna make it all up to you,” he suggests, gauging your reaction as you continue to eat the tart. “I wanna train you, wanna help you get back to being the warrior that you were before everything happened. I can work with Madja too, to make sure that you’re healing properly and not over-exerting your wings. I can help you–”

“Why would you wanna help me now?” you interject quietly, still not believing that he actually wants to help you after essentially calling you incapable less than an hour ago, “did–did Rhys put you up to this? Did Cassian–”

“No, nobody put me up to this.” Azriel starts, shaking his head quickly, “I shouldn’t have said all those things back there, I was just worried. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore than you already are.”

You stare at the male for a long moment, searching through those amber eyes for any notes of deception but find none. Your heart tugs for his, trying to feel him through the obsidian smoke and gray haze between your souls, but there’s nothing, no tug in return, for now. The logical, and traumatized, part of your brain is screaming at you to run from the Illyrian male in front of you and never look back. But the romantic, and bonded, part of your heart is screaming at you to take anything he’ll give you, to trust him endlessly.

You were never one to listen to logic, anyways.

“Fine.” you say finally, narrowing your eyes at him. “We start tomorrow. If you don’t think it’s good for me to train with the Valkyries yet then I’ll come after they leave in the morning.”

“You’ve got a deal.” Azriel says, smiling wider than you think you’ve ever seen him smile, making your heart flutter as you can’t help but give an equally wide smile in return. “I’ll see you at ten.”

——————————————————————

The late morning sun beat down on you as soon as you stepped foot on the roof of the House of Wind the next morning, dressed in your fighting leathers.

You spot Cassian, Nesta and Azriel across the roof, so deep in conversation that they didn’t notice your arrival.

“Are you ready to get your ass handed to you, Shadowsinger?”

The three turn to you when you speak, the ghost of a smile on Azriel’s lips when he takes you in, taking in your raw beauty as you stand in front of him in your leathers with your beloved sword sheathed at your side, your wings hanging higher than usual as you grin excitedly over at them. Azriel swears his heart skips a beat when he takes it all in, the hope glimmering in your eyes makes him extremely grateful that he decided to shove his feelings aside to help you train.

“Oh, you’re not doing any kind of combat today.” Cassian scoffs at you, as if he’s offended that you’d even think you were going to spar with the Shadowsinger during your training.

Your smile falls as your brother talks down to you, and almost instantly turns into a scowl directed at him.

“You aren’t training me today, so you have no say in what I do and don’t do during this session, asshole.” you snap back as you take one last step to stand in front of Cassian, shoving your finger against his chest pointedly.

There’s an expression you can’t quite read on your brother’s face when you look up at him, but he only ignores your combative response, looking to Azriel instead. He sighs and slaps Azriel’s shoulder before mumbling ‘good luck, brother’ under his breath as he begins to walk away. Before you can question the odd interaction, he and Nesta are already making their way back into the House of Wind. You turn to Azriel then, brows furrowing as you stare at the Shadowsinger. He gives you a sympathetic look then, his eyes softening as he notes the confusion in yours.

“Don’t shoot the messenger here, but I did speak to Madja in order to see what she’s okay with you doing during these training sessions.” he starts, brows knitting together as he tries to think of how to explain the situation. “Long story short, she doesn’t think you’ll be ready for combat or flight for another month or so.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach at his words, disappointment settling in your core as you feel your throat start to constrict and tears prick your eyes. You only shake your head in disbelief, though you know deep down that you’re in no shape to even think about sparring right now, considering your body is running off three and a half hours of sleep and an extreme amount of pain tonics. You’d been telling yourself that you were healing perfectly for the last three weeks, but it truly has been anything but perfect.

Azriel reaches for your elbow with one hand as you take a step back in shock, concern filling his hazel eyes as he watches your internal panic.

“I know that’s not what you wanna hear today, but I promise that it’s for the best. Madja won’t clear you because she knows you have a lot of healing to do before fighting again.” Azriel interjects gently, careful with his words so he doesn’t set you off.

“W–Well, what did she say I could do?” you say quietly as your voice strains, using all your strength to hold back from breaking down in front of him. You don’t have the energy to argue with him about it, to tell him that you’re fine. You want to scream and cry and fight him, but you know it’s no use.

“She suggested that we try some of the exercises that we use during initial flight lessons in the camps, as physical therapy in a way.” he says, and you can tell he doesn’t like the thought of doing that based on the tone of his voice.

“Like–doing the exercises we teach the children when they’re learning how to fly?” you retort, brow furrowed as you mull over the suggestion. “That–That’s ridiculous. I’m five centuries old for fucks sake, I will not be treated like a damn child–”

Your eyes are squeezed shut in frustration as you speak, so you don’t see Azriel’s hands reach up to cup your cheeks, only feel it as you start your angry spiel, but it’s jarring enough to stop you in your tracks. Your eyes fly open at the featherlight touch, looking up to see the Shadowsinger staring at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

“I can’t let you get hurt, I–I can’t let you do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.” he says once he’s got your attention, “You can’t fly right now, you’re still healing. I know Madja has you on bone-mending medications and is giving you tendon repair salve every damn day and I know you should not strain your wings with anything other than light physical therapy right now. I know how much flying means to you and I know you don’t want to be treated like a child but please.” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper as he stares down at you, “Please, just let me help you heal, let me show you that I want to help you and that I’ve never hated you. A–And once you’re healed, once Madja clears you for flight and combat, we will do anything you want.”

There’s a sense of urgency in Azriel’s voice as he pleads his case, his hands firm against your cheeks as he stares down at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen from him before. He looks desperate, broken even. Little do you know, he’s tugging with all his might on his side of the clouded bond, silently hoping that you’ll feel him if he pulls hard enough, though it doesn’t work. You search his eyes for any signs of dishonesty, for any ill intent, but find none, so you sigh.

“Fine,” you finally say, forcing yourself to stay composed in front of the male as you step back and out of his grasp, though the feeling of his touch lingers on your cheeks as though he’s still grazing them. “Let’s get started, then.”

Azriel’s shoulders sag in relief, surprised that you give in without much of a fight. Truthfully, you’re too mentally exhausted to even think about protesting, too tired of being kicked down every time you get your hopes up. So in the moment you choose to lower your expectations and tell yourself that you don’t deserve to fly anymore after being too damn stupid to see the attack coming, that you have to earn your wings back, that you might never earn your wings back if things go poorly.

“Right,” he says with a nod as he stands up a little straighter, trying to stay serious as you look at him expectantly, “we can start with some simple things, like wing-lifts and getting your back and shoulders back into shape with a few different workouts.”

——————————————————————

Your training sessions with Azriel carry on for weeks, spending every single morning together after the Valkyries leave their training sessions. Sometimes you’ll see Gwyn or Emerie with Nesta when you make it up there a little early. There’s always an ache in your chest when you see the females, desperate to get better so you can just fucking train with them finally.

But you push your feelings aside and train with Azriel, pushing yourself past the point that you knew you should, but you couldn’t help it. Azriel always asked if you were okay to train, he genuinely could never tell, since you’d become almost completely unreadable after the incident.

Your body ached after every session, joints sore and wings aching, but you didn’t care. You needed to get better, you needed to get strong again and never let anything or anyone get to you in any way ever again.

Though you were with the shadowsinger every single day, he felt as though he wasn’t making any progress with getting to know you or making you open up to him. His heart ached with longing after every training session, when you’d simply mumble a ‘thanks’ to him and make your way back to your bedroom at the House of Wind. He would try to joke with you, try to make conversation with you, hell, he’d even try to tug on that damn bond as hard as he could, but he could never seem to get through to you. So, he gave you space, gave you time, gave you what he thought you wanted from him instead of what he wanted.

His desires could wait until you were off the pain tonics and could finally feel him reaching out to you.

Since you couldn’t be sent on any missions until you were off the pain tonics that suppressed your daemati skills, you had all the free time in the world. Any time not spent training your body, you spent training your mind. Though you didn’t have the ability to use your powers, you could still waste the days away with your nose buried in books about how to hone your skills and how to strengthen your mental shields.

Everyone in the Inner Circle notices you reverting back to the shell of a person that you were when you initially found out that you were mated to Azriel, but this time was different. You were even quieter, kept to yourself even more, and they could all tell that you beat yourself up over every little thing you’d do wrong. Cassian tried to call you out on it one time when you were in the living room with him, Rhys and Feyre, but soon swore to never mention your new behavior again after you threatened to destroy him with your mind once you were able to use your powers again when he inquired.

The only one who you ever confided in about your self-loathing and hatred was Feyre, she was the only one you felt you could trust enough to talk about everything with, about the mating bond, about the wing-clipping, about it all. She made it a point to check on you almost daily after that, insisting that you spend time with her a few times a week, whether it’s only to sit in silence and read your books together at the River House or to run errands around Velaris. You’re eternally grateful for her being there for you, for her forcing you to leave your bedroom and spend time thinking about anything other than the self-deprecating thoughts you had about yourself.

It’s almost three whole months before Madja clears you to come off your pain tonics, but warns that the first full day off of them will not be completely pain-free.

You heed her warning and tell the Shadowsinger that you won’t be attending training the next morning, in case you’re in excruciating pain. You swear you see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes when you tell him, but the expression is gone before you can question it, and so is he, as he turns on his heels to avoid facing you as his chest aches and his stomach churns at the thought of you possibly not wanting to train with him anymore.

——————————————————————

Azriel is woken from a dead sleep in a cold sweat, shadows skittering nervously around his head as he sits up, an unfamiliar gnawing feeling eating away at his chest.

He looks around, glancing out the window to realize it’s still the middle of the night. He feels it again, that tug in his chest. It’s a feeling of agony and panic, a feeling coming from deep in his soul. It was something he’d never felt before, something so curious that he wasn’t sure how to deal with it, until the shadows came closer to his ears, whispering mate, mate, mate, in his ear.

His heart flutters at the words, hands shaky as he pushes himself up in the bed. It’s the first time since you’d been on those painkillers that he’d been able to actually feel you through, actually reach out for you.

He could tell you weren’t doing well by the tension on the thread between your souls, but he wasn’t sure what to do to help.

In that moment he thanked the Cauldron for fae hearing, because he heard a muffled cry of agony coming from down the hall that once again made his chest ache. Immediately he stands from bed, hastily shoving a sheathed Truth Teller into his sleep pants pocket before making his way out of the bedroom.

It nearly feels like an out-of-body experience as he rushes toward your room, mindlessly opening the door. All he can think about is helping you, making you feel better. He doesn’t even know what’s on the other side of that door, doesn’t know if you actually need help or not, but he’s ready to face whatever it is no questions asked, to help his mate.

You’re laying on your side in the middle of your large bed when he steps in, only the moonlight flooding in from the window lighting your figure underneath the sheets. Your wings flare weakly as you squirm, small cries escaping your lips as your eyes squeeze shut. Azriel can tell you’re sleeping, and likely having an awfully realistic nightmare considering how strongly he could feel you when he woke.

He rushes to the bed, sitting on the edge while reaching for your face. His large hands stroke your cheeks as he tugs for you through the bond, silently attempting to soothe you, willing you to wake from the nightmare.

It takes nearly a minute for you to stop thrashing in his grip, for you to finally come back to consciousness.

You’re clammy when you wake, sweat and tears glistening over your face as your eyes flutter open. Your brow furrows when you look to see who helped you come down from the Gods awful nightmare, and it’s none other than your mate.

Azriel gives you a gentle smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are shining with concern as he grasps your cheeks gently.

“There you are,” he says softly, hands finally falling from your face, “I—I wanted to make sure you were okay, heard you from across the hall.”

You stare up at the male before you for a long moment, taking in everything you can about your current situation. Azriel has one hand on your arm and the other next to your side, your faces mere inches from each other from when you sat up slightly in the bed. It’s the closest the two of you had ever been, and it took everything in you to not reach out and touch him to bring him even closer, to kiss him and never let go.

It takes a few moments for you to fully register what’s happening. When you finally do, you sit up and push out of Azriel’s grip, embarrassment flushing through your chest as you stare at him. He stands from the bed as you sit up, something deep within him taking over and telling him you need space, and a glass of water. He knows the bond is directing his every move now, which makes his heart throb against his chest as he turns to your bedside table. There’s a carafe next to your pile of novels, which he takes in his unsteady hands to pour into the accompanying glass.

He’s back to sitting on the edge of the bed in an instant, far enough away to give you space as you catch your breath. You take the glass of water when he offers, taking a long sip before looking back to him. When your gaze slips back to his, you become painfully aware of the very shirtless male in front of you. Your cheeks flush as your mind slips to places it shouldn’t for a millisecond, but you compose yourself quickly when his brow furrows.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he presses, a frown on his lips as he watches you carefully.

“Y–Yeah, I did.” you breathe out, hands shaky as you raise one to run your fingers through your hair. “I guess those tonics were repressing more than just physical pain.”

“You stopped taking the painkillers?” Azriel asks, trying not to sound too excited. “Did you get cleared from Madja? Did she say it was okay?”

You nod once, wondering why he’s so invested in your consumption of pain tonics all of a sudden.

It all makes sense to Azriel then, why he could feel you so intensely after not feeling you through the bond for so long.

A rush of relief mixed with a twinge of terror flows through Azriel when you nod, realizing he has less time to mentally prepare for the truth that the two of you would have to face very soon. But it also means he’ll finally get to breathe around you, finally admit that he knows that you’re his mate, his fated lover.

Deep down, you know it too, but are too scared to admit it at the moment.

So the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, neither sure of what to say to the other. Two cowards in love, two cowards afraid to fess up, two cowards staring the mating bond in the face but choosing to ignore it for the sake of saving their hearts.

The silence between you is too much for Azriel, so he stands from the bed. You look up to him, eyes shining with a look that he can only describe as fearful enough to make him stop in his tracks.

You truly are disappointed when he stands, secretly wishing he’d attempt to coddle you and offer to take care of you. You curse yourself silently for letting yourself feel so much towards him in this vulnerable moment, especially after working so hard to become an emotionless wall of obsidian for the last three months.

“I–I’m sorry for barging in, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” he stammers, watching as his shadows insist on swirling around you in a protective manner insteading of coming back to him. “If you’re really okay, I’ll just go–”

“S–Stay.” you nearly beg, eyes shimmering with tears you didn’t know were there as you stare up at him. His face flares with shock at your words, taken aback by your desperation. “I–I mean, if you don’t mind. I just–just would really appreciate the company.” you continue, feeling pathetic as you try to reel yourself back in mentally before you start sobbing in front of him.

“If you want me to, I can, I’ll keep guard for you if it makes you feel safe.” he says simply, smiling weakly at you.

Azriel is quiet as he walks towards the desk on the other side of your room, pulling the chair to face towards the bed before sitting down. He turns to you to see your brow furrow as he sits, lips pulled into a frown. His gaze softens as you stare at him and you know you look pitiful, but can’t help the way your heart aches for him, the way your body craves his next to yours right now.

“Are you alright?” he questions, frowning back at you as his shadows skitter around your face in an attempt to soothe you.

“Would you–fuck.” you murmur, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Would you want to stay in the bed with me?”

He’s up in an instant, his heart working faster than his mind as he nods at you. Your own heart skips a beat as he glides over to the bed, climbing into the spot that you leave for him. He slips under the covers but sits with his back propped against the pillows, halfway sitting up as one of his wings hovers over you in a protective manner.

You can’t help but give him a watery smile as you inch closer to where he’s sitting, looking up at him as if you’re waiting for permission to approach him. He gives you an inviting smile back, adjusting his arms so you can get as close to him as you want. You’re hesitant at first, but push past your doubts as you lay next to him, your body flush against his side as you lean your head against his warm chest.

You try to go back to sleep, but your body is still tense against his, on edge as the nightmare you just woke up from replays in your head every time you close your eyes. Azriel’s arm relaxes at your back, his hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder gently.

“I’m here,” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he reaches down to wipe a rogue tear that slipped down your cheek. “You can sleep, you’re safe with me.”

That’s all you need to hear for your body to fully relax finally, drifting to sleep as you try not to think about the conversation you’ll have to have with the shadowsinger in the morning.

——————————————————————

Sunlight streams through the large window in your bedroom when you wake, groaning softly as you grab a pillow to cover your eyes and curse yourself internally for forgetting to shut the blinds last night.

It takes a moment for you to realize that your bed is emptier than it was when you fell back asleep last night, the space where the shadowsinger once sat now empty next to you. You sit up in bed when you realize you’re alone, a sinking feeling in your chest as you do.

The sinking feeling is quickly replaced by one of joy when you look to the empty side of the bed and see what he left in his place. There’s a silver tray on the bedside table next to where Azriel slept, and on top of it is a plate with an almond croissant from your favorite bakery and a cup of berries next to a glass of water and the rest of the pills and salves that Madja had you on.

A note sits by the food that reads ‘Gone to train. Didn’t want to wake you, you looked too peaceful. Enjoy.’

You truly don’t stop smiling the entire time you eat, unable to fight the giddiness that you feel from the tiny act of kindness. You read over the note at least ten times, memorizing every swirl and scribble of his writing before starting to get ready for the day.

Though there’s an ache in your wings as you stretch them when getting dressed, just like Madja had warned you about, you realize that you haven’t felt this good in months. Your chest feels lighter, mind clearer, and eyes brighter as you think about your mate.

Mate…Mate…fuck.

Your excited mood sours when you think about the conversation that has yet to be had with Azriel. You’re almost entirely sure that he knows now, considering you’re 99.99% certain you could feel his concern for you striking down the bond last night when you woke from your nightmare.

It takes you longer than it should to get into your leathers, but you’ve decided that you want to train, want to face Azriel this morning, want to see which of you will be the first to break.

The sun feels more intense than normal as you make it to the roof of the House of Wind, just in time to see Azriel, Cassian, and–surprisingly–Rhys stowing their weapons away after wrapping up their own training. It’s well past the time that the Valkyries finish their daily session, so the three of them must’ve wanted to take advantage of you asking for the day off, using the hour to spar with each other instead. They’re all shirtless, likely due to the heat, so your eyes obviously drift directly to your mate as soon as you step foot onto the roof.

He’s facing away from you, so you can see the swirls of his dark tattoos over the expanse of his back and shoulders. There’s sweat beading down his neck and you can see that his hair is slightly damp as he runs his fingers through it. Your mind wanders as you stare at him, wondering what it would be like to dig your fingers into the skin of his back while you’re under–

Your thoughts are interrupted by a lone shadow snaking around your hand as Azriel whips around, looking in your direction likely due to his other shadows alerting him to your presence. He raises a brow when he sees you in your leathers, mouth open as if he’s about to speak as you approach the trio, but he says nothing.

“We thought you were taking the day off today,” Cassian says, stepping in for Azriel as he’s obviously at a loss for words.

“I was supposed to be,” you start, looking down to your side to adjust the sword there as it wobbles in its sheath, “but Madja’s prediction about my pain levels after coming off of the pain tonic were wrong, I’m feeling great this morning. So, I decided to come up and train, with or without a trainer.”

Azriel doesn’t miss the way your eyes glimmer with confidence and hope as you speak to your brother, knowing that he’s not likely to try to argue with you now that you’re cleared to spar and use your powers again. It’s the happiest he’s seen you in months, and it makes his heart swell, accidentally projecting his adoration in your direction. Your smile falters as you feel a tug at your own chest, eyes flicking towards him as your heart lurches.

As the two of you stare at each other with wide eyes, you feel a talon rake down your obsidian mental walls that you’re finally able to put up again.

Are you alright? Rhys questions wordlessly, making you finally break your staring contest with Azriel.

Quite alright. Just ready to spar and have a very serious conversation with a specific shadowsinger, if you don’t mind giving us some privacy. You snap mentally, glaring at Rhys as he smirks at you.

Is it finally happening? He retorts teasingly.

Not if you don’t get out of my head and off this damn roof. You bite back before slamming your mental shields back up, blocking the High Lord from teasing you anymore.

“Well, I don’t have any urgent tasks this morning, so we can continue with training as usual if you’d like.” Azriel suggests, the faintest smile on his lips as he stares at you.

Cassian looks between the two of you for a moment, eyes wide before taking a step back with Rhys, who leads him away before he can ruin the moment for you. He’s probably silently telling your brother what’s about to happen as they walk away, considering you hear Cassian say ‘fucking finally’ as they reach the door.

“That sounds great,” you say finally, smiling at him meekly.

The morning proceeds as usual, but you’re a little more distant than usual, and it definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he’s standing in front of you shirtless as he instructs you how to kick and punch defensively, or the fact that you just felt him tug on the bond. Yeah, it definitely has nothing to do with either of those things.

“You’re distracted.” Azriel says matter-of-factly when you throw a half-assed punch that he easily blocks with his forearm.

“Oh, am I?” you say sarcastically, sweat beading down your forehead as you throw another kick towards the male, though he easily pushes your leg back down.

“Wanna talk about it? Or do you just want to punch it out?” he suggests, raising a brow as you huff in annoyance.

“Just wanna punch it out, can’t–can’t talk about it.” you retort, shaking your head.

You’re terrified to admit what you felt earlier, terrified that he’s going to laugh in your face and tell you that he’d never want you and that you’ve been pining over him to no avail.

“I think you can talk about it. I think you’re just scared,” he taunts, confidence rising in him as he feels your frustration and longing subconsciously projected down the bond.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you pant out, pushing down your feelings as you throw another punch. “You’ll hate me and never talk to me again if I talk about it.”

That’s when Azriel’s face drops, his hand coming up to grasp your wrist when you try to throw one last punch. He feels like he’s just been punched in the gut, like he’s the biggest asshole in the world. You truly think he hates you and that he would never want anything to do with you other than training you and being acquaintances. His heart lurches at the thought, but he keeps his composure as he looks down to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he insists, frowning at you.

Your breath hitches as he maintains his light hold on your wrist, tugging you closer so you’re shielded by his wings from the sun beating down on you.

“You–You don’t get it.” you say, voice barely audible as you fear for the worst.

You tell yourself that he’s going to want nothing to do with you after you finally say what you’ve both been feeling for the last day, that he’s going to reject the bond and never speak to you again. That’s what you’ve told yourself since the day the bond snapped for you all those years ago, so why would it be any different now?

“What don’t I get?” he implores.

He wants you to be the one to admit it, to confirm what he’s been feeling, to confirm that he isn’t delusional. He needs to hear you say it, he feels like he’s going to die if you don’t say it in the next thirty seconds to be honest.

“You can say it, tell me what I don’t get.” he coaxes, eyes glued on yours as you stare at his hand wrapped around your wrist. “I won’t laugh at you.”

You finally look up at him with that, seeing that there’s nothing but serious adoration shining in his eyes as he waits impatiently for you to speak. He’s about to explode if you don’t just fucking admit it.

“I know that you know, Azriel.” you say bluntly, frowning up at him, “I–I know that you know that I’m your Gods-damned mate, and I know that you’ve been ignoring it because you don’t want it to be true. I know you wish that anyone else in this world was your mate–”

Before you can continue your breakdown, you feel two warm hands on your cheeks, pulling you towards the male in front of you. Something wonderful blooms in your chest as he leans down, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. There’s five hundred fucking years of intensity behind that kiss and it almost knocks you off your feet, but Azriel is there to wrap a strong arm around your waist to pull your body flush to his instead.

He doesn’t pull away for a while, savoring the way your lips feel against his as if it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to touch you in his life. It feels so right to be kissing you, like your bodies are made to be flush against each other, like your lips were made to mold to each other’s.

Once he does pull away, there’s a wild look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, one you can only assume is filled with love and satisfaction.

“I don’t know what made you think that I would hate the idea of being your mate, but I’ve been waiting five fucking centuries for this moment right here.” he says against your lips, both of your souls humming with excitement as he pulls you back in for another quick kiss. “It’s a true honor to be your mate, and I promise to make up for every moment of lost time that we had over the last five decades in any way that I can. I promise to keep you safe and never let you feel alone ever again. You’re not getting rid of me for a very long time.”

Relief washes over you at his words, though you’re unable to completely comprehend the fact that he actually wants you back. It’ll come to you eventually, so for now you push the doubt you have away in order to enjoy the moment the two of you are sharing.

“You promise?” you say, eyes shimmering with more tears, thankfully these ones are happy tears for once.

“I promise,” he retorts with a smile, “I promise to give you everything you deserve and more, okay?”

“That sounds perfect to me,” you giggle, reaching up to cup his cheeks gently as he leans into your touch.

He grins and pulls you in for another kiss, this one just as passionate as the last, if not more. You never want him to pull away, never want to forget the feeling of his lips against yours. It feels as though time stops for a moment while the two of you stand there, soaking up all of the love shimmering through the bond between your souls.

“Hey! Finish up your love fest and get your asses inside.” you hear your brother call out from the door to the roof, wondering if he was eavesdropping this entire time, “It’s time to celebrate you two idiots finally admitting what we’ve all been waiting to happen for years.”

Azriel chuckles against your lips one more time before pulling away, placing a kiss on your forehead before reaching for your hand.

“You ready?” he asks gently as you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you retort, following him inside to begin the rest of your eternal lives, finally together.

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#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #acotar #azriel x you

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unknownogre · 2 days ago

Text

“What?!”

The hero looked to Nuvian with a very puzzled expression, the half-elf bard just smirked a bit and gave him a wink. Up until now he was the model of virtue, always helping the hero make the right choice so the people would love him. Telling the best stories so his path stayed true…so the works coming out of his mouth right now were jarring at best.

“Yes, let me toy with him for a while. I think I can get three or four weeks. Two months if I use this new healing spell I’ve been trying to learn on the side. Oh I think his screams will be wonderful…a symphony for the soul if you will.”

Nuvian smile as he moved the villain over to make sure his heart was still bleeding and offering some stabilization without waking him up. The hero was just dumbfounded at the moment.

“I…I was just going to kill him.”

Nuvian didn’t even look back as he made sure to search the Villain’s pockets and remove everything but enough clothes to leave his modesty intact. He moved like he was an expert at this, like it had been done a hundred times and this was simply business as usual. Even his tone was as light and warm as it ever has been.

“Oh, I know, but that was never the plan my dear friend. This was the plan. This has always been the plan.”

The rest of the party was recovering. They had all been just hurt enough to have to stay behind for the final battle leaving only the hero and his trusty bard to face the boss alone. None of them grievously injured…but just enough so they wouldn’t be at full so they weren’t strong enough to walk through the barrier.

“The Plan? You need to talk to me Nuvian. I want you to explain everything right now!”

The Hero panicked, had he just been manipulated this entire time? Were his motivation his own? Panic…worry…dread. He said he’d never be a puppet again. Not since escaping slavery.

“Oh it was simple. Keep you good, get you strong and get to the villain. Kill him, won’t help you feel better. You know it needs to be done though. If you did this, you’d lose part of yourself. Which is fine. You’ve only killed monsters up to this point, mindless hunks of meat that deal out constant aggression. They have no emotions, no anything. They are easy to kill. Sentient beings on the other hand, well that isn’t you cup of tea. Don’t worry, your quest was yours alone, I didn’t need to make you do anything. I was just along to get to this point.”

At this point the Hero didn’t even notice Nuvian hoist the Villain up on their horse and secure them to the saddle. The bard then turned to his friend and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder. The Hero’s eyes locked with his friend and oddly enough he found comfort in them. This was the man who had saved his life, who sang by the fire at night to quell the restless spirits that banded together to remove the Villain from power. He was there, it couldn’t have all been a lie could it?

“Listen, you aren’t the only one this bastard has hurt. On top of that he knows things, things no one but me knows he knows. So I want some answers. I get to have fun while I rip them from his flesh. I’m a nice person my dear Hero but I’m not a good one. Do you remember the corrupt mayor that we punished last year?”

The Hero nodded and then froze.

“What did you do to him? We left him in a jail cell and moved on. The city was supposed to do what they needed…but then you had business. I…I watched you get on a boat and leave. We met up a month later.”

Nuvian just smile and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. He then motioned for him to sit down in the batter throne they found the villain on while Nuvian sat in the stewards spot.

“Well, I did have business, but I just had the ship drop me down the river and I looped around back. I then hunted down every noble that supported the Mayor, I tortured them to make sure there were no hidden secrets, and then I tortured the mayor till his body gave out. I did some of my best work. A demon actually came up from hell to have me autograph a square of his flesh after his body gave out and his soul hit its final destination. It was really an honor. Shows I’m on the right path. Most polite pit fiend I’ve ever met. Didn’t use my real name of course, not that stupid. We had a laugh over it, all in all a great time.”

The Hero was still stunned but honestly he didn’t feel bad about it. He didn’t give the go ahead for this, but he knew if anyone deserved those fates it was that pedophile mayor and his lackies. Reason was starting to return, and the more Nuvian talked the more the Hero realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t know his friend, he just didn’t know ALL of his friend and that was okay because he was finding out now.

“Alright, if that is what you want to do I’m not going to argue or stop you. Come find me when you are done though okay, I want to take you out to the tavern for a drink.”

Nuvian just chuckled and brought his friend in for a hug. He knew the Hero wasn’t naive and thus why he was chosen as a traveling partner and one to help him get to his goal. Find, capture, break and then murder the Villain. The process took three years, but three years of well spent effort.

“Deal.”

The bard said as they parted ways and he turned to head out of the place before the rest of the party could try and press their morals upon them. Nuvian could only chuckle as he head the Villain groan in pain. Oh it was going to be SO much worse in just a day’s time…he couldn’t wait.

'You can't kill him!' 'Ugh I am so sick of this idea that killing this monster would make me just as bad as he is!' 'What? No I'm saying I can keep him alive for DAYS while I torture him' '…'

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration #Writer #Fantasy #Magic #Lawful Evil #UnknownOgre

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kinzhae · 2 days ago

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Just Want To Talk

Angst, Neglected Reader X Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, No Comfort.

Part 2

Gojo Satoru

It had become a routine. Satoru would come home late, half-heartedly ask about your day, then disappear into his room or his phone as if you weren’t even there. You told yourself it was his work—the missions, the endless responsibilities of being the strongest. But deep down, you knew it was more than that.

Tonight, you were determined to confront him. When he walked through the door, his blindfold pushed up to his forehead, exhaustion written across his face, you stood in the middle of the living room, waiting.

“Satoru, we need to talk,” you said, your voice steady despite the knot in your chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Can we not do this right now? It’s been a long day.”

“No,” you replied firmly. “This can’t wait. I’m tired of pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not. You’ve been distant, cold, and I don’t even know where I stand with you anymore.”

He froze for a moment, his usual playful demeanor slipping. But instead of softening, his expression hardened. “Y/N, why do you always do this? Why do you have to make everything about you?”

His words stung, but you refused to back down. “I’m not making it about me. I’m asking you to show me that I matter to you!”

Gojo laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Matter? Do you have any idea what I deal with every day? The world doesn’t revolve around your feelings, Y/N. I have actual problems to deal with.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “So I’m just another burden to you?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice sharp. “Maybe you are.”

The air left your lungs as his words settled over you like a crushing weight. Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let him see you break. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your coat and walked out, slamming the door behind you.

Geto Suguru

The man you fell in love with was gone. At least, that’s how it felt as you watched Suguru pace the room, his sharp eyes fixed on a map of his next mission. His once-kind demeanor had been replaced by cold determination, and you felt like a ghost in your own relationship.

“Suguru,” you said softly, stepping closer.

“Not now,” he muttered without looking up.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you pressed on. “It’s always ‘not now.’ When will it ever be the right time to talk about us?”

He froze, his jaw tightening. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That everything’s fine? That I’m still the same person you fell in love with? Because I’m not.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “I know you’re not. But that doesn’t mean you have to shut me out. I’m trying to help you, Suguru. Why won’t you let me?”

He turned to you, his expression cold. “Because you can’t help me. You wouldn’t understand what I’m going through. You’re too weak to understand.”

The words struck like a physical blow, leaving you breathless. “Weak?” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I’ve stood by your side through everything. I’ve supported you, defended you, and you call me weak?”

He didn’t respond, his silence louder than any words. Without another word, you turned and walked out, your heart breaking with each step.

Nanami Kento

Being with Nanami meant understanding his disciplined nature, his need for routine, and his intense focus on his work. But lately, it felt like his focus never shifted from his responsibilities to you. Dinners were silent affairs, conversations stilted and brief. You tried to chalk it up to his busy schedule, but the hollow feeling in your chest grew with each passing day.

Tonight, as he sat at the kitchen table, papers spread out before him, you decided to try again. You approached cautiously, placing a cup of tea by his hand.

“Thank you,” he said, not even glancing up.

You hesitated before speaking. “Kento, can we talk?”

“Is it important?” he asked, flipping through a file.

Your heart sank, but you pressed on. “It is to me.”

Finally, he looked up, his expression unreadable. “What is it, Y/N? I’m in the middle of something.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling. “I feel like you’ve been distant. Like I don’t matter to you anymore.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, I don’t have time for this right now. I have a lot on my plate.”

“You always have a lot on your plate,” you said, your voice breaking. “But where do I fit in? Do I even fit in anymore?”

His expression hardened, and his words came out sharper than you expected. “You want the truth? I don’t have the energy to deal with your insecurities on top of everything else. I’m doing the best I can, and if that’s not enough for you, maybe you should reevaluate what you want from me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, unable to process the coldness in his voice. “I never asked for you to be perfect, Kento. I just wanted to feel like I mattered to you.”

“You’re overthinking it,” he said, returning to his work. “Go get some rest.”

You stood there for a moment, hoping he’d say something more, but he didn’t. The silence was deafening as you turned and left the room, your heart shattering with every step.

Choso

Choso had always been a quiet person. But lately, his silence had become suffocating. You knew something was wrong, but every time you tried to reach out, he pulled away further. The moments you once shared, quiet and simple, now felt like distant memories. He wasn’t the person you knew anymore, and you weren’t sure if you still knew how to reach him.

Tonight, you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood by the door of his room, gathering every ounce of courage to face him. After a long moment of hesitation, you knocked softly.

“Choso?” you called gently.

“Not now, Y/N,” came his muffled response from inside.

But you pushed through, opening the door to find him sitting at the window, staring out into the night. His back was tense, his shoulders stiff as he avoided looking at you.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the crack in it.

He didn’t respond at first, his silence speaking volumes. Finally, he turned to you, his expression closed off. “What do you want to talk about, Y/N? Is it about me not being around? Or the fact that I don’t have time for you anymore?”

You flinched, his words hitting you harder than you expected. “Choso… that’s not fair. I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I miss you. I miss us. I just want to know why you’ve been pushing me away.”

His gaze hardened, and he finally met your eyes. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said bitterly. “I’m not the same person I was before. I’m not someone who can just go back to the way things were, Y/N. I’m broken, and I’m doing this for your own good. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

The tears you had been holding back finally fell, your heart aching as you stepped toward him. “I don’t care if you’re broken, Choso. I’m not asking you to be perfect. I just want to be there for you, like you’ve always been there for me. You can’t shut me out like this.”

He stood abruptly, the tension in his body palpable. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m scared of what I’ll become, Y/N. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“You’re not alone in this, Choso,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You never have to go through it by yourself. I’m here. Always.”

Ryomen Sukuna

The halls of Sukuna’s palace were cold, unwelcoming, and as lifeless as you had come to feel over the weeks. It had been days, maybe weeks since Sukuna last spoke to you without contempt or dismissiveness. You told yourself to be patient, that the King of Curses wasn’t the type to express affection in conventional ways. Yet each ignored glance, each sarcastic quip, and each night spent alone chipped away at your resolve.

Tonight was no different. You sat alone in the chamber you shared—or were supposed to share—with Sukuna. Your fingers curled around the soft fabric of your cloak, pulling it tighter against the chill in the air. You hated how empty the space felt without him. But more than that, you hated yourself for missing someone who treated you like you were invisible.

You had to talk to him. Something had to change, or you were going to break.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had left, you left the chamber and walked down the grand hallway to the throne room, where you knew he would be. The heavy doors were slightly ajar, and his voice carried out to you—a commanding, cold tone as he addressed his subordinates. When you entered, he didn’t even look up.

“Sukuna,” you called out, your voice trembling. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to get the attention of the room.

He glanced at you briefly before turning back to the group of curses kneeling before him. “Leave us,” he commanded. His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Without hesitation, the subordinates filed out, casting curious glances your way as they passed.

Once the doors closed, an oppressive silence filled the room. Sukuna leaned back on his throne, one arm resting lazily on the armrest, his crimson eyes fixed on you with an air of impatience. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone sharp and dismissive.

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to steady your breathing. “I need to talk to you. Please.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Talk, then. But make it quick—I don’t have time for your whining.”

His words struck you like a slap, but you pushed through the pain, refusing to let him see you falter. “I feel like I don’t matter to you anymore,” you said, your voice trembling but steady. “You’ve been so distant, so cold. I just… I want to understand what I did wrong. Why you’re treating me like this.”

He scoffed, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Is that what this is about? Your feelings? I don’t have time to coddle you, Y/N. You’re lucky I even let you stay here.”

Your heart sank, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “Sukuna, I’ve stayed by your side through everything. I’ve endured your temper, your cruelty, because I believed there was something worth holding on to. But now… now I’m not so sure.”

His smirk disappeared, replaced by a cold, hard stare. “You think you’re special? That you’re different from anyone else who has ever stood before me? You’re not. You’re nothing more than a distraction—a fleeting amusement.”

The air was knocked out of you as if he had physically struck you. You stared at him, disbelief and heartbreak etched across your face. “How can you say that to me?” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “You’re weak. Pathetic. If you can’t handle that, then leave. I won’t stop you.”

The room spun around you as his words settled in your mind. Weak. Pathetic. Nothing. The man you had given everything to saw you as nothing more than an inconvenience. You didn’t say another word. You couldn’t. Turning on your heel, you fled the throne room, his laughter ringing in your ears like a cruel melody.

#jjk x reader #jjk satoru #jjk sukuna #jjk nanami #jjk choso #jjk suguru #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #getou suguru x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #angst #no comfort

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chestersturniolo · 18 hours ago

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good cop , bad cop

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader x Chris Sturniolo

Summary; You have been a moody guts all day. Matt goes straight to comforting mode.. Chris, not so much

disclaimer; Chratt poly relationship dynamic! if you are not comfortable with this, do not read // suggestive // pet names // most likely a one shot.. based on this request

You flop onto the couch with an exaggerated huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Your irritation at an all time high for no real reason. It’s been one of those days, and it feels like nothing is going your way.

Matts attention is caught by your dramatics, he glances over from where he sat on the other side of the couch. “Hey-” he says softly “-what’s wrong sweetheart? You’ve been in a mood since this morning” his voiced concerned

You groan dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Nothing. I’m fine.” you snap,

Matt frowns, “C’mon, talk to me. Did something happen? Did I do something?” His voice is still patient, gentle, but for some reason it only makes you more annoyed.

“Ugh, Matt can you not?-” you sass back. “-I said I’m fine. Why can’t you just leave it alone?”

Before Matt can respond, Chris speaks up from the kitchen, his voice cutting through your tantrum “Alright, that’s enough” he says firmly, turning to face you. His blue eyes locking onto yours,. “What’s with the attitude, kid? You’ve been whinin’ n actin’ like a little brat all day”

Your eyebrows immediately raise, taken back by his tone.

“Chris!” Matt snaps, shooting him a disapproving look. “Don’t talk to her like that, she’s just—”

“She’s just what?” Chris interrupts, standing his ground. “Throwing a tantrum because she’s gotten herself all worked up for no reason? Don’t coddle her, Matt. It’s not helping.”

You glare at him, but Chris doesn’t waver. “look I get that you’re not in the best of moods today-” he says, his tone softening just a little “-but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on us. We’re here to help you, not be your punching bags kid”

Matt sighs, running a hand through his hair “You didn’t have to put it like that” he mutters, clearly torn between defending you and acknowledging Chris has a point.

“Maybe not-“ Chris concedes, his gaze flicking back to you “-but she needed to hear it”

You shift in your seat with an subtle eye roll. Chris wasn’t wrong…you had been a little over the top today. But still, his bluntness stings.

Matt scoots over to you on the couch, his hand resting gently on your knee. “listen-” he says softly “-whenever something’s bothering you, just tell us, okay? We can talk anything out”

“Yeah-“ chris starts in agreement, making his way over to the couch “-we’ve got your back ma, next time lose the attitude, huh?” he says,crossing his arms as he stands infront of you

You sigh, the fight draining out of you as you mumble, “Okay, m’sorry” feeling slightly guilty

Matt smiles, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. Chris smirks, tossing a wink your way “There’s our girl”

Your lips instinctively curl upward at his coo..you’d always found it quite hard to stay mad at them for long periods of time. They had this way of breaking your attitude down, sometimes without even trying. You let out another small sigh, “i think i’ve just been a little stressed lately that’s all..” you say honestly, your eyes flickering between them both.

Matt clicks his tongue “ah baby, why didn’t you say so? i know just the thing for that..” he says before throwing a glance to chris with a smirk. They share a quick knowing look before Chris’ smirk forms also, knowing exactly what his brother is getting at.

Before you could process what was happening, Chris leans down, scooping you up off the couch. You let out a surprise squeal as he hoists you up and slings you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, before placing a firm smack to your ass as he starts walking off toward Matts room.

“Where are we going” you giggle,lifting your head slightly to see Matts figure following closely behind

“We’re going to relieve all that stress of yours baby-“ Matt mumbles, wetting his bottom lip, his hand coming down to unbuckle his belt as he walks “-jus’ relax, we’re gonna take good care of you hmm?”

MASTERLIST LINKED HERE

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julymusings · 11 hours ago

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dark chocolate cherry

i want to bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

or; your boyfriend shows up when you just want some alone time [3.2k]

jason todd x fem!reader; reader gets her period and describes painful symptoms; just fluff; jason "words don't come easy so here's acts of service" todd this is supposed to be earlier in the relationship which is why he's still a little shy but i think she knows he's red hood? idk man. i was just going with it; can you guess what inspired this? (everything is awful) and this is like…not that good

The day started at 2 AM when you woke to shooting pains in your abdomen and blood everywhere. It continued until 2:45 while you cleaned yourself, changed clothes, put on a fresh pad, took some painkillers, and changed the sheets. It paused for about an hour until you woke up again at 4:00, courtesy of Gotham’s patented night-life that had taught you to completely tune out the sound of police sirens. Tonight, however, they weren’t tuning out.

The sirens quieted at 4:10, by which angry tears collected in the corners of your eyes as you flopped around in bed in an attempt to get comfortable. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong; the pillow was too hard, the blanket was too scratchy, the position hurt your arm.

From 4:11 to 4:12, you screamed into your pillow.

By 4:15 you had settled in front of the TV with a bowl of dry cereal (it took everything in you not to cry over the lack of milk in your fridge), a heating pad, and your favorite comfort show queued up.

At 8 AM you managed to drag yourself to work, where you half-assed the day’s tasks, took a 15-minute break to cry in your car, then dipped out a half-hour early.

Now, at 5 PM on a Friday evening, you’re curled into the fetal position in front of your TV with your comfort show resumed and your trusty heating pad cranked to the highest setting. Prepared to spend the entire night here, you already changed into pajamas and kept a couple blankets within reach. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, and you stretch to reach it, careful not to lose your comfortable position or roll off the couch.

Jason About to leave Be there in 20

You groan out loud. You want to throw your phone across the room, but decide against it because no amount of hormones from hell are worth six hundred dollars. You’re still angry, though, for being so stupid as to forget about the date you had planned for tonight. Scrolling up to earlier messages, you see another text from today wishing you a good morning and telling you he was excited to see you tonight. But, too down to bother checking any messages today, you had missed it.

You I can’t tonight anymore I’m sorry I don’t feel great

After hitting send, you place your phone on the ground, not even having the energy to reach for the coffee table again. Or the energy to lift your arm back up, apparently, given how it hangs limply over the edge of the couch. You feel guilty about cancelling, but you are in no state to go out tonight. You’re used to the symptoms of your period hitting so hard. As much as you and Jason care about each other, you’re not sure you’re ready for him to see you like this. You’ve managed to plan your relationship around your hormone cycle so far, but today it came early.

Your phone’s buzzing is muffled by the rug, and you almost don’t hear it. Jason’s photo is displayed on the screen.

Your hanging hand clicks ‘answer’ and puts it on speaker so you can take the call without moving from how you're curled up.

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine, I just don’t feel up for going out tonight. I’d rather stay home.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, I just got my period so I’m not really in the mood.”

“Okay, we can stay in tonight. What do you feel like eating? I can pick something up.”

“No, Jason…I want to stay home alone tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

“Okay…did I do something?” His voice comes out a little smaller.

“No, you’re fine, I promise. I just don’t feel like seeing anyone right now.”

“…Not even me?”

Your hand presses against your temples to soothe the building tension headache. The self-doubt in his tone brings the anguish of the entire day bubbling up your throat. You feel like the worst person in the world. Exactly how you don’t want him to see you.

“Jason…it’s not you. I just…I feel like shit right now, honestly. Everything hurts, I’m miserable and sad and angry at everything, I’m breaking out all over.” You feel yourself welling up at all these little stresses coming out. “I’m craving everything but feel too sick to eat anything…I feel pretty disgusting right now, and frankly, I don’t want you to see me like this.” You finish your rant with a sniffle. You wipe your nose, trying to hold back the sob that’s threatening to break through. But at his silence, your worst, most improbable fears claw their way to the surface: he hates you now. You scared him away. You exhale heavily into your sleeve as more tears spill.

The phone is quiet for a long moment. Then; “I could never find you disgusting,” he says, gently. “But if that’s what you want, then we’ll reschedule.”

“Thank you. And sorry.”

He speaks with a tone you can’t quite parse. “Don’t apologize. Just feel better.”

It’s one hour after your phone call, and at the first knock, you know who it is. Who else could it be? With that soft, somewhat hesitant, one-knuckle rap on the door. Only one person knocks on your door like that.

“Jason, I told you not to come here,” you say a little more cutting than you intend to, but your back and shoulders feel like they’re about to snap under a phantom pressure and the frustration of your request being outright ignored leaves a burning bitterness that channels itself into a violent wrenching open of the door.

He jumps a little at the abruptness of your greeting. One look at your face and he visibly deflates.

“I’m sorry…I know you said not to come, but…” his gaze casts downward to his hands. You follow; he’s clutching a reusable grocery bag. Peeking out of the top is a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. The ice cream carton’s condensation seeped through a small patch of the cloth bag and dripped onto the other items; a bushel of greens, among some other fruits and vegetables, as well as a parcel of brown paper that was fastened closed with a twine string. You return your gaze to his face.

“I think—” he cuts himself off, free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Then he drops his hand and sighs. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. You told me not to come here and I ignored you, but I thought…” he trails off, probably hoping you’ll say something so he can gauge your reaction.

You just stare at him.

He shifts his weight back and forth. His hand twitches.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll—”

Then, you burst into tears.

Jason’s eyes widen. He reaches out to touch you, then stops himself. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, this was stupid. Please stop crying, I’m so sorry—” He’s panicked, trying to calm you down with apologies and soothing assurances that he will leave immediately and never go against your wishes again. All the while you stand in the doorway, blubbering like a toddler with a skinned knee, new tears forming faster than you can wipe the old ones away.

He once again raises a hand towards you, before it stutters, then clenches into a fist as if it takes all his strength to fight against the instinct to be close to you, fighting against the string that tethers him to you. He drags his hand down his face, then it falls back to his side.

“Okay, I—I’m leaving now. I’m leaving. Do you…want this?” He holds the bag out to you.

With it now in front of you, its further contents are visible. You manage to tamp down your tears enough to get a few words out.

“Did you—hic—buy me groceries?”

“Yeah…” There’s a wince in his tone, as if he’s only now realizing that his gesture is not translating as he intended.

You look back up at him with pursed lips and knitted brows, sniffling. Sure, the ice cream you can understand, but…you have no idea what to make of the rest.

The bag drops back to his side. “I figured…it’s just— it’s the stuff that you’re supposed to—” He strokes his palm over his mouth, eyes screwing shut for a moment. He huffs at himself, then continues. “I mean I’m sure you already know all of this, so maybe you already have all these things, and now I’m realizing how unnecessary all this was, and I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Jason,” you say. Your upset has since been overshadowed by something else, though you can’t tell what it is. And your crying has stopped, but its lingering effects have you feeling congested and a little foggy. You’re half expecting this to be a fever dream that you’re moments away from waking up from in a cold sweat.

“—because obviously you know what helps you feel better much more than I do—”

“Jason.”

“And you— yeah?” His eyes are a little harried when they find yours again. But off your tired and still-confused look, he gets the message and collects himself.

“Right, yeah, I just thought that…maybe I could bring you some of the stuff with all those minerals that are supposed to help women when they’re…menstruating.” He briefly breaks eye contact at the end of his sentence, red rouge creeping up his neck.

You can’t help it; you start to giggle. You can’t remember the last time you heard a man use the term ‘menstruating’ in a non-medical context. And the fact that he’s so shy about it— upset as you may be (though not at him), there’s no denying how adorable your boyfriend is. His head shoots back to you as your laughter intensifies. He blushes harder.

“It’s not that funny,” he mutters.

You step away from the door, finally closing the space between you, and wrap your arms around his torso. Your head nestles into his chest. He gently drops the grocery bag on the ground and reciprocates your hug. He rests his chin on your head, which fits perfectly under his. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. You breathe him in.

“Sorry I’m such a mess,” you murmur into his shirt.

He breathes into your hair. “You have nothing to apologize for. And you’re not a mess.”

You look up, chin resting in the space between his collarbones. He looks down at you with a small smile, but some wariness is still etched into his features. Fear of unwittingly upsetting you again. He brings up a hand to push some hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. His hand remains there, toying with the hair that falls below your shoulder.

"Thank you for the food,” you whisper. The moment feels too intimate to speak any other way.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. I just…” He imitates your quietness, like his admission is also too vulnerable to say loudly. “I really wanted to see you. And I hated the idea of you feeling bad about yourself, or being in pain. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Your eyes feel wet again. The first instinct is to hide your face, maybe press it to his chest once more. But, for some reason, you don’t. You want him to see you like this, messy and emotional and upset. You want him to see every part of you, and you want to see every part of him, the good and the bad.

“You didn’t.” A tear slips past the effort to keep it at bay. He shows no reaction to it, eyes never leaving yours, other than a quick swiping away with his thumb. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before. That’s why I was crying. Not because you showed up.”

“That doesn’t seem right. This is nothing. You deserve even more.”

With no words to fully, adequately communicate the blooming in your chest, you stand on your toes, reaching up to him for a kiss. But given his stature, your lips only reach his chin and brush over its underside.

At your quiet whine, he chuckles and leans down to meet you in the middle. The kiss is soft; filled with the innocence of fresh blossoms in the spring, and the sweetness of its borne fruit.

You pull away when a vicious cramp roots you back to the present. Your limps tighten around Jason with a groan.

“I need to go back inside. I’ve been away from my heating pad for too long.”

His shoulders sag when you step away from him. “Oh, um…do you still…want me to leave?”

With a simple exhale of humorous disbelief, you grasp his hand in yours and tug him to your front door. He’s like an excited puppy, eyes brightened and perking up as he grabs the grocery bag and happily trails after you.

He goes straight to the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the counter for you to settle into, then sets the bag on the counter. The ice cream carton has dampened most of the cloth by now, and likely the rest of its contents, but rather than attending to the groceries, his first action is retrieving your heating pad from where it rests on the couch. He unplugs it from the wall outlet and brings it to you. You curl up on the chair with it pressed flat against your lower stomach. It only takes a minute for the pressure in your hips to abate.

Then he moves to the groceries. The ice cream immediately goes in the freezer, and he unloads what’s remaining onto the counter, one by one, and you take note of each item. There’s spinach, carrots, apples, oranges, dark chocolate, some kind of meat wrapped in brown paper, and, strangely enough, an entire block of cheese.

You give him a quizzical look, picking it up to read the label. “You got me…cheddar cheese?”

He retrieves a cutting board and knife from its spot next to the sink, then takes the cheese from you. “Good for certain symptoms.” He slices open the plastic wrapping and cuts out some cubes with skilled efficiency. He does the same with an apple. “They all are,” he says, referring to his entire haul. He completes the makeshift charcuterie board with a couple squares of dark chocolate and slides it across the counter.

You look down at the cutting board, thinking about everything he’s done for you; everything you never even had to ask for. The words sit on your tongue, encaged by your clenched teeth; an admission that coils itself around your spine and squeezes tight, restricts your breathing and pumps your heart at thrice its speed. But you feel yourself welling up again, and the first bout of tears already exhausted you so much that all you can manage is, “I don’t know what to do with all this. I don’t have the energy to make anything good.”

But he just smiles and says, “That’s what I’m here for, honey. Can I make you something?”

You nod. He gets to work. The immediacy of his actions, how he takes no time to decide on a dish or find a recipe, makes you think his previously stated intentions of ‘just dropping this off’ were less genuine than he lead you to believe. Nevertheless, you munch on the snacks he laid out for you and watch him work. The cheese and apples are a surprisingly cohesive combination, the meshing of sweet crispiness and savory creaminess eliciting a contented sigh from you. You try to ignore the way Jason smirks in the corner of your periphery. The chocolate is incredible, yet unfamiliar. You read the label on the packaging: 80% Dark Chocolate with Cherry and Almond Filling. Even if you hadn’t tasted it yet, the quality of the packaging itself would have been enough to let you know that this chocolate is extremely high-quality. Like, special-order-from-Europe quality. Not stop-at-the-grocery-store-on-the-way-home quality.

“Where is this from? Did you buy this today?” You ask him through a mouthful of the rich, melting chocolate.

He doesn’t look up from the carrots he’s dicing. “Uh…no.”

Anyone else would attribute his avoidance of eye-contact to standard kitchen-knife caution. You are not anyone else. You could blindfold him, spin him around ten times, put a sharp knife in his hand, and he could still pull off a perfect julienne. You look closer. His cheeks are dusted with pink.

You let out a laugh. “Jason, you’re not embarrassed about liking fancy chocolate, are you?”

“No! Not at all,” he says, ceasing his chopping. He looks up, but not quite at you.

“Then?”

“‘Then’ what?” He asks.

“Then why are you being so shifty right now?” You try to catch his gaze.

“I’m not!” He defends. “It’s just chocolate! Do you like it? I’ll bring you more.” He’s stealthy with the way he avoids your eyes; you almost can’t notice how hard he’s trying not to make eye contact.

“Jason!” You reach across the counter, having to rise off the chair slightly, and take his face in your hands, making him look at you. When he does, he wears a sheepish smile.

“It’s…” His removes your hands from his face, holding them in his. He mumbles something, turning his head to the side. But you catch the tail end of it, a goading grin already creeping up your face.

“What was that?” You tilt your ear towards him, exaggerating the action.

“It’s Bruce’s.” He, in turn, exaggerates the enunciation, rolling his eyes at your simpering. “I…found it. In his pantry one day. And I liked it, so I took it. And then I…kept taking it. Every time I visited.”

You pout teasingly. “And you’re ashamed to admit that you think he has good taste in something?”

He doesn’t say anything, only hiding his face in his shoulder. You pull on your intertwined hands and he gets the message, skirting around the kitchen counter to come closer.

“You are so adorable, you know that?” You say. You reach up and pinch his cheeks. He swats your hands away, but there’s no mistaking his broad, childish grin for anything but affection.

He breaks off another square from the chocolate bar and holds it to your lips. You bite off a small portion, then push it back to him. He takes the remaining piece in his mouth and his eyes close for a brief moment as he savors the sweet, tart, and nutty flavors. You simply watch, entranced by him. Then, he kisses you. You lean into it, hands sliding up his shirt to grip the fabric and bring him even closer. His hold finds your waist.

He tastes like cherries and dark chocolate.

He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead on yours, and you want to tell him that. That, and so much more. But from the look on his face, the way his eyes find yours and the tips of his ears have a similar heat to the one in your chest, you can tell he already knows.

when it comes to jason's post-pit-repressed-teenager characterization (aka despite being older he's still as inexperienced and confused and insecure about the world outside of vigilantism and w/ women as a 15 y/o would be) (aka my favorite characterization tee hee), i think that he's mature about periods, knows they're normal and not gross or shameful etc, but still gets shy about saying the actual word, for no other reason than the 'shy around women' part always makes me giggle

also bruce is keeping the chocolate stocked specifically because he knows jason likes it and will keep taking it because he loves his son even if his son doesn't love him (he does he's just in his angsty teen 'i hate this family you don't understand me' phase rn)

divider is from here

quote at the beginning is pablo neruda <3

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