#like i accomplished what i was meant to leading up to it. like i’m not losing smth by turning another year older

[adrift-in-thyme]

I originally wrote this for Whumptober but couldn't find a prompt that really fit even before I lost the energy to keep participating lol. So I'm sharing it now!

Summary: Wild remembers someone dear to him

CW for discussion of death/referenced child death

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A young girl’s hands are in his hair.

They snatch a shoulder-length strand, twine it, clumsy, graceful, youthful, enthusiastic, around another. A third meets them in the middle.

Humming, she pulls them tight.

“Pretty!” She says, sing-song, like the chirping chickadee in the chesnut tree. 

“Mm,” hums the ghost who sits a short ways from Wild, silent and steadfast. He smiles and it is a tiny thing, a whisper of what once was. “I’ll bet it is, Aryll.”

“Mhmm.”

Fingers tanned by chores accomplished, adventures undertaken in the sun meet with shimmering gold. A pink tongue sticks out from a small mouth. Concentration drags down pale brows toward cerulean eyes.

“My braids are always pretty. Know why?”

Wild steps closer. There is a tug in his gut, a painful pull he should recognize. 

His eyes are locked on the girl. The other, he only sees in his peripheral. 

The girl is all that matters here.

…breathing is troublesome.

The wraith tilts his head in false contemplation. 

“Because you’re pretty?” 

The girl — Aryll, Wild hisses to himself, her name is Aryll — giggles. 

“I am pretty. But no.”

A ducked head that elicits a huff of annoyance. Battle beloved fingers take delicate shoots of grass and rip them up from the root.

“Can I guess again?” 

“Mhmm.”

Another smile, like a passing comment. There is a blue flower, its petals skirted in white, settled near his worn brown boot. The ghost scoops it up, offers it to Aryll.

“Because you always put the most beautiful of flowers in my hair when you do it?”

Another eruption of giggles as the gently composed petals tickle her cheek. 

“Nu-uh.” Then, a light smack across a cheek, forcing the wraith to settle back into his straight-backed position. “Now, stay still!”

He laughs and Wild’s chest aches.

“Okay, okay. No need for violence!”

Aryll huffs. More flaxen threads meet one another and join hands beneath her attentive care.

“You’ve got one more chance, big brother. Guess again.”

“Last chance, huh?” The wraith raises his eyes to the sky. Wild follows his gaze to where an eagle circles, following the guidance of the currents. “Is it because…”

Someone calls out, calls his name. A man’s voice, young, urgent. 

A messenger.

Footsteps pound an earthen path. 

The ghost’s voice splinters, shatters. He picks up their pieces, sets them into a box, locks it and swallows the key.

“The king summons you! He summons you on an urgent matter! You must come to Hyrule Castle at once!”

“Big brother?” Aryll’s eyes are wide, frightened.

Gently, the wraith nudges her fingers from his hair. The braid is only half finished. A thing of beauty it would have been, a waterfall of gold. But only half of his hair has been tamed. The other falls, reaching for his collarbone in gentle waves. 

He stands and the wind whips it back.

“It’s alright, Aryll.”

He hardly speaks the words. They are a whisper upon the breeze. That throat was never meant to give voice to anything louder, anything more joyful.

Don’t.

Wild tries to move, tries to hold out a hand. 

Stop. Don’t do it.

Don’t walk away from her.

“Big brother, please.” Tears bubble up, spill down. Wild feels their warmth upon his own cheeks. “I’m lonely when you’re gone.”

The wraith doesn’t quite smile this time. The expression lifts his lips like the levers that raise the drawbridge leading to the castle. It doesn’t manage to reach his eyes.

“It’s alright.”

A step. That is all it takes. All it takes to bring everything crashing down.

“I’ll see you again.”

Wild screams and no one hears. 

“I promise.”

Wild screams and the world goes white.

“Your big brother will always come back for you, you hear?”

Wild screams and blood floods his senses.

“Always.”

Wild screams and the memory breaks.

The world careens back into focus, and with it comes the worried faces of his brothers. 

Twilight’s hand is on his shoulder. He throws it off, whirls around, runs. 

They call out. He doesn’t answer. They pursue. He doesn’t stop. 

His feet can hardly go fast enough to carry him away, away, away….

When he does manage to stop, his heart is pounding out of his chest. His breath comes in gasps. His throat is so dry he has to focus just to force saliva down it. 

His legs give way. He crumples, falling to his knees in a pile of leaves that have been burnt by the sun. The forest reaches out and pulls him into its bosom. 

He closes his eyes and lets the tears come.

Aryll. 

He whispers her name, speaks it, then screams it, screams it as he digs his fingernails into his palms and grinds his forehead into the dirt. 

Aryll.

He sobs it. He murmurs it. He etches it into his consciousness so that he will never, never forget it again.

How could I? How could I forget you?

“Cub.”

Time’s voice is soft, softer even than the footsteps Wild had not heard.

He doesn’t lift his head. 

A hand settles on his back. Its weight is warm and welcome, even in this eternity of self-imposed winter.

Wild’s breath hitches. 

“What happened?”

It smells of iron and mold. He closes his eyes.

“You remembered something.” 

Time’s voice is calm, level, knowing. Sorrowful. Wild remains silent. 

A pause that gives way for the gentle song of nature. The whisper of bowing trees, the scurry of tiny feet, the lilting calls of birds.

“You remembered…someone.”

It rises within him, drawn like a moth to flame at the sound of the understanding in Time’s voice. Wild lacks the strength to keep back the agonized whisper.

“My sister.”

There should be a sharp intake of breath, an exclamation, a silence weighted with poignance. Time allows none of those things. He is quiet, but only so that when Wild’s words come tumbling forth, they have space to land.

“I can’t believe I forgot her! I loved her, Time, I loved her so much. I promised to protect her, I swore that I would and I didn’t! I didn’t!” 

He shoves himself up, eyes crazed, hair bedraggled, dirt carved in the grooves tears have carved upon his cheeks and neck. 

“I let her die!” His voice shatters and this time he cannot shove it in a box, cannot lock it up and swallow the key. To do that would be to perish himself. “I’m her big brother and I let her die.”

Time regards him with surging emotion and chilled detachment. Wild lacks the will to try and decipher what terrible things he must be thinking.

“Come here, cub,” he says, when a short moment of eternity has passed. And he is sitting close, close and it is a simple thing to collapse into his open arms. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words penetrate, burn their way towards his heart. Wild hisses, choking on salt that sears.

“We lose much upon this rocky path. I wish it were different.” 

Bloodied fingers fisted in Time’s white tunic, Wild briefly contemplates wiping the snot from his nose. He decides against it. Lifting a hand is more than he can manage right now.

“I will not pretend that you can reunite with her, even now that you have regained your memory. Which was not taken of your consent.”

Time’s fingers are in his hair. He brushes the tangled mass back and away from the muck that cakes Wild’s face. Gently, he pries the strands apart, coaxes them into sections.

“One thing I know for certain, however.”

He takes one group of silken gold, twines it with another. A third meets in the middle.

“Every meeting leads to a parting.”

One trio joins another and another until the endless tresses are united cascading cords.

“But that parting need not be forever. For those who are gone, are never truly. They are with us, even now, standing by our sides, waiting for the day when we will meet once more.”

Wild lifts his head, tucks a mischievous strand behind his ear. His fingertips brush the silken petals of a blossom.

He draws it out, gazes at it. 

“One more guess, big brother. One more.”

Time smiles, soft, kind, so vulnerable he looks more like a timid child than their stalwart leader. 

“At least, that is what Malon says. And I’m inclined to believe everything she tells me.”

Wild’s lips quirk up even as tears turn his vision to swirling orbs of color and light. He cups the flower with careful hands, reaches up, tucks it behind his ear.

“Fine. I’ll just tell you!

“My braids are pretty cause you taught me.

“You taught me, Link.” 

[willowfey]

peace and love to everyone who enjoys their birthdays but as someone who loves birthday parties for other ppl my own impending birthday fills me with the kind of dread comparable to someone being banished forever

[jo-speaks]

congratulations

in which...

fem! reader has her own way of congratulating quinn on all his accomplishments.

warnings: MDNI. 18+ readers only. use of sex toys (vibrating panties), slight exhibitionism, oral sex (m! receiving) while driving, mature language, brief mention of a captain kink.

~✩~

note: in honour of Quinn's one-year captain-iversary a few days ago! he's accomplished so much, and i love seeing how much he continues to develop as a player and a person.

You knew you wouldn’t be joining him for a regular team dinner once you saw that glint in his eyes. He was up to something, but you weren’t quite sure what.

“Babe! You ready?” Quinn called out to you, waiting for your presence in the living room of your shared apartment.

“Just give me another minute!” You replied, holding the top half of your lingerie set to your chest in the mirror. 

A few days ago, Quinn had told you about this dinner. The team had planned it to celebrate all the successes he’s had in the past year. Being named captain, leading the team to the Stanley Cup finals, winning the Norris, being on the cover of NHL 25, and so forth. 

Quinn had never been one to want to celebrate stuff like this for himself, but rather for the people who made it possible. However, he was never one to turn down free food. Originally, it was supposed to be just the team, but they were meant to be dining at one of your favourite restaurants in the city. Luckily for you, JT’s wife, Natalie shared the same love for the food here as you did. And with a few strings pulled, as JT was the one who originally planned the event, she not only managed to get you and herself a part of the occasion but a few of the other wives and girlfriends who were willing to join the celebration.

Naturally, when she told you the news, you figured it would be a great time to give Quinn a little congratulatory gift of your own. Before the event, you had ordered a Canucks blue set of lingerie, leaving very little to the imagination. It cupped your breasts in a way that was pleasing to the eye, and it did your ass the justice it deserves. The lining of the bra covered your nipples, but the rest of the material was sheer. And to add to the thrill, the bottoms of the set came with a remote. A remote that, with the click of a button, could send a silent vibrating sensation running through your body.

You didn’t want to show this number to your boyfriend quite yet, hence your decision to let him discover it later in the night. Throwing on a semi-formal dress that was appropriate for the dinner over it, Quinn was in for a surprise. You quickly strapped on a pair of heels that complemented your outfit, grabbing your purse and phone, and opening the door of your bedroom. 

The reaction on Quinn’s face was one you would never get sick of seeing. His jaw dropping slightly open as his eyes trailed up and down your figure repeatedly, trying to get the image engraved in his mind. 

“Wow.” Was all he managed to mutter out before you giggled and stepped closer to him, his hand instinctively wrapping around your waist as you placed a soft kiss on his lips which he gladly reciprocated. 

“Looking pretty handsome yourself, Captain.” You teased, knowing what that word did to him when it fell from your lips. 

He let out a sigh, almost like he was biting back words. Instead, he just pulled you impossibly closer to his body, leaving no space between the two of you. 

“I can always cancel. We could stay here…” He trailed off, slowly moving his hand to the curve of your ass. 

You smiled, “No way. I’ve been dying to see what’s new on their menu. Plus, it wouldn’t be very nice to leave your teammates hanging.”

He rolled his eyes jokingly, “They’ll be fine. I’m more interested in finding out what’s under this dress than some dinner.”

“Well, in that case.” You slipped your hand into your purse, pulling out the small remote.

Quinn’s eyebrows furrowed at this, his instinct being to immediately press the first button he saw. You let out a soft moan as you felt the vibrations so suddenly, reaching out to press the button to shut it off. You dropped your head to lean against his chest, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure.

“Let me explain before you click anything else.” You mumbled, immediately gaining his attention. 

He shook his head before you could even get a word out. “It’s your underwear, isn’t it? That’s what it’s for.”

“How did you-?” You began before he cut you off. 

“I opened the box they came in. You set it to my billing address, so my name was on the box. Thought it was that book I ordered, but this was even better to see.” He explained.

You let out a short whine of complaint, “So you knew I had these?”

He nodded, “Just been waiting for you to use them.”

Just before you could say anything else, his phone rang, and a number unknown to you was displayed on the screen. “Hello? Yeah, we’ll be there in twenty.” He turned back to you, taking your hand into his, “Time to go.”

Moving on from the previous discussion, you gave him a bright smile, excited to feast with him and the team. You dropped his hand, walking towards the front door to grab his keys off the hook when he clicked the button yet again, the pleasurable buzz in between your thighs causing your legs to buckle slightly. 

He walked up behind you, grabbing his keys for himself as you leaned your forehead against the wall, eyebrows knitted together as you tried your best to keep quiet, not wanting to give him an audible reaction to his surprise attack. 

Having been with you for the past two years, he knew exactly what you were doing. So he peppered kisses alongside your neck, reaching his hand up to thumb at your covered breasts. “C’mon, baby. Let me hear those pretty noises.” 

You did your best not to give in, a small whine slipping past your lips before he clicked the button again, stopping the feeling. You let out a sigh of relief and disappointment, at which Quinn let out a chuckle

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you tonight.”

He opened the apartment door, standing to the side as he watched you compose yourself before exiting the home, following you out, and shutting the door behind you. He locked the door, placing his hand on your lower back as the two of you began walking towards the parking garage where his car was parked.

You should’ve known he would mess with you from the second you left the apartment. As you walked towards the elevator, waiting for the lift to reach your floor, he pressed the button yet again, remote concealed in the pocket of his dress pants. You tensed up at the feeling, thankful you were at least alone, until the elevator dinged, revealing an elderly couple you guys had met over the time you lived at the apartment complex. They smiled warmly at the pair of you and you did your best to silently greet them with a smile. 

“You two are dressed so nicely, going out on a date?” The woman asked.

Quinn looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted you to answer. Was he crazy? If you opened your mouth right now the only thing that would come out would be a loud moan of his name. But he didn’t seem to care as silence slowly started to linger. 

So, in an attempt to not slip up, you settled for a smile and a “Mhm.”, hoping it would be the end of the conversation. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t.

“Where are you going? Robert and I tried this new seafood place the other day, best shrimp in the whole city!” She laughed. 

You took a deep breath, knowing Quinn wouldn’t answer for you. “Was it Coast? That’s where we’re heading right now.” 

She nodded, “Yes, yes. Something like that. Oh! Their crab dip was amazing!”

Doing your best to keep your composure, you let out a soft laugh, sighing in relief when the lift dinged again, stopping on their floor. 

“Well, you two enjoy your dinner! Treat her to an appetizer, will ya?"

Quinn laughed, “You know I will.”

They bid you two goodbye, the doors taking what seemed for an eternity to shut. Once they did, you let out a groan of relief and pleasure, the sensation becoming too much for you to bear. Quinn let out a soft laugh as you leaned back against him, your hand searching for his in an attempt to have something to hang on to. 

He had some mercy, giving you his hand and letting you squeeze it as lewd noises slipped past your glossed lips. “Gonna have to quiet down, baby.” 

“Kinda hard to do that when you made me-,” He turned up the speed. “Speak!” 

You could tell he was having way too much fun with this as you peered up at him through watery eyes, a smirk never leaving his face. Once again the elevator dinged, opening up the door to reveal the parking garage. He gave you a gentle push, your wobbly legs doing their best to stay upright and get you to the car. 

“Think you can hold on until we get to the restaurant?” Quinn asked.

You gave him a deranged look. “What? No. No way.”

He shrugged, “Either you wait or I leave you like this the whole night.”

“Quinn, please.” You whimpered, approaching the car.

He ignored your pleas, walking ahead of you to open your door for you. Even when he’s torturing you sexually, he’s still a gentleman. You slowly stepped in, doing your best to ignore the way the buzzing intensified as you settled into the seat. Quinn walked around the car and got in next to you, placing his hand on your inner thigh. You gripped the armrest of the seat, hoping it would give you the strength to hang on.

Your boyfriend noticed the way your thighs twitched subtly under his hand, your body struggling not to give in to the pleasure. He decided to cut you some slack, reaching into his pocket to turn up the intensity. You let out a moan, leaning your head back against the seat, your nails digging into the leather. 

Your brain was incredibly foggy, the only thing running through your mind being the amount of pleasure you were feeling. You hadn’t even noticed Quinn pulling out of the parking lot, and driving onto the main road. 

“This is your free pass, sweet girl. Let go f’me.” He encouraged, keeping his eyes on the road, silently praying for a red light. 

The traffic odds seemed to be in Quinn’s favour, the next light turning red as soon as he approached it. He turned his head, watching the way your eyes shut and your jaw dropped further, your legs trembling as you came with a cry of his name. 

If he could get this moment tattooed on the inside of his eyelids, he would. He watched as you writhed in your seat, dropping your head down as you came to. Quinn reached into his pocket, shutting off the feeling to give you a chance to calm down. 

He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a comforting kiss to the back of your hand. He smiled as you gripped his hand, happy it was able to provide you that relief. 

“Holy shit.” You eventually sighed out, relaxing into the seat. 

Quinn smirked, “Oh, my beautiful girl. You have no idea what I plan on doing with you.” 

Letting out a breath, you opened your eyes again and looked at him. His jaw was clenched and his grip on the wheel made his knuckles go white. You quirked an eyebrow at the intensity of his gaze. “Hey, you okay?”

He didn’t answer you, he didn’t even glance at you. Now it was your turn to trail your eyes down his figure, seeing the bulge of his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. A smirk rose to your face as you glanced at the GPS that Quinn had been following, seeing you were only eight minutes away from the restaurant.

You mustered up all the strength in your body to sit up and lean across the console of the car, pressing a kiss to his flushed cheeks. 

“I’m driving.” He mumbled, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control himself. 

You ignored his words, trailing your hand down his upper body and stopping when it reached the now extremely prominent bulge in his pants. He groaned, nose scrunching at the feeling. Smiling at his reaction, you let your kisses trail down his neck.

You could feel his hand looking for something, too distracted with palming him to realize just what he was searching for. As you fumbled with his zipper, he grabbed the remote that he had unknowingly dropped into the cupholder when you started showing him affection. He ran his thumb over the bumps of the buttons, finding the ‘on’ button yet again, but not pressing it quite yet.

You felt the object on your lower back as Quinn placed his hand there, needing to touch you as you got the zipper undone, freeing him from the constraints. 

“How much longer?” You whispered, kissing down his happy trail. 

He glanced to the side where his phone was, “Five minutes.”

You hummed, your kisses now finding his way to the base of his cock. He let out a deep moan as you took him in your mouth, the weight of it resting comfortably on your tongue. It took him a minute to adjust to the situation, trying his best to focus on driving and you at the same time. 

Quinn visibly relaxed, well, as much as he could while seeing how desperate you could be for him no matter the setting. He set the remote down, his calloused hand finding the back of your head, slowly pulling on your hair, then pushing. He sped up slowly, testing the waters. You grew frustrated at the pace, knowing you had limited time. 

As your patience grew thin, so did his. So, you reached behind to grab his hesitant hand, pushing and pulling for him. Thankfully, he got the hint and started his attack on your mouth. The gagging sound emanating from your throat made him throw his head back with a groan, immediately perking back up as he started driving off the road. 

Tears started forming in your eyes as Quinn kept pushing you far enough to reach the back of your throat. It wasn’t the most pleasurable feeling but the whimpery groans leaving his mouth were distractions enough. 

You became too entranced with his reactions to realize your hand was now resting on his knee, his hand no longer gripping your hair. The pace having set itself, he reached over, grabbing the control in his hand, and pressing the button that made you moan around his length.

Quinn groaned loudly at the vibration of your vocal cords, turning up the intensity of your panties before letting it drop to the ground and pressing your head impossibly further as he rutted his hips into your mouth. 

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good.” He mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open. 

You mumbled back something incoherent, your brain going numb at the dual sensations and lack of oxygen. You felt yourself getting close again as Quinn’s thrusts got sloppier, hinting he was there with you. 

In an attempt to let Quinn know, you squeezed your hand against the bone, causing him to let out a deep whine. “You’re so close, aren’t you baby?” With the nod of your head, he sped up. “Doing so good. Come with me, yeah?”

He didn’t have to say it twice, your core tensing as your legs shook wildly, the moans escaping you enough to set Quinn off, his hips stilling as let out a groan. His hand on the steering wheel tightened, as did the one on your head, keeping you in place as you both reached your peaks. 

Even though he wanted nothing more than to turn the car around and fuck you properly all over the apartment, Quinn reluctantly pulled the car into the restaurant’s parking lot, stationing the car poorly and turning off the engine.

As you came to your senses again, you winced at the feeling of the intense vibrations still going between your legs. You reached your hand down under his seat, picking up the now familiar clicker and stopping the feeling.

You pulled yourself off of him, his cum dripping from your lips. Mesmerized at the sight, Quinn couldn’t help but press his fingers to your lips, running his thumb over them before pushing the sticky liquid in. You kept your eyes trained on his as you sucked around his finger and swallowed around it. 

“I can’t wait for this night to be over.” He mumbled, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth. “Gonna mess you up so bad when we get home.”

Placing the remote in his free hand, his eyes looked at it momentarily before returning to stare at yours. “Who says you have to wait for the night to be over?”

[rinhaler]

I will kiss you and hold you and pet you and call you a good girl if you write a toji os abt him having a one nightstand with someone and when he’s undressing them he unzips their dress WITH HIS TEETHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…��….. anyways!!! :3

am i a good girl now :(((

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, soft dom!toji (maybe), alcohol consumption, squirting, fingering, face-sitting, vaginal sex, tit sucking, praise, slight degradation, reader passes out for a sec.

words: 2.4k

“Can I buy you a drink?” a handsome stranger asks you as you sit by your lonesome at the bar. You came here with your friend, who has since disappeared since locating her ex-boyfriend. And you suspect he won’t be an ex for much longer. The attention makes you giddy. His scar pulling as he smirks at you, a grin that grows wider when you nod. He pulls out his card and waits to flag down a bar tender. “I’m Toji, by the way.”

You introduce yourself and you curse yourself for how pathetic you must seem. It’s embarrassing, really, feeling so accomplished that a man deemed you worthy enough to talk to and buy a drink for. He’s like a model, possessing a wide build and tall figure. He could have any woman here if he wanted, you’re sure. And despite your inner monologue telling you to act coy, you’re sure you’re a bashful fool.

He orders you the same blue lagoon cocktail you’ve already had three of, and himself a lemonade.

“You don’t drink?” you ask him.

“Nah, it doesn’t really affect me.”

You shrug, slurping the ice cold cocktail through a metal straw you brought from home. He smirks at that, noting that you’re the type to prepare this much for what he’s sure is meant to be a casual night out. And he asks you questions about yourself that you’re so willing to answer. You ask him questions about himself that he answers too, though the responses are surface level and simple. The mystery only adds to his allure.

He's funny, effortlessly. Everything he says seems to make you giggle. You’re a cliché, too, twirling your hair as you hang on his every word. It’s a mix or attraction and intoxication. Is he really so interesting and funny or are you just wet and transfixed by his looks?

Your laughter dies out when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s your friend, coming to say goodbye. She points at her ex and tells you she’s leaving with him.

So much for girl code.

Though she does offer you to hop in the taxi with them so you can go home. But you don’t want to leave Toji. You want to keep making a lovesick fool of yourself for him and maybe see where the night takes you. So she waves and you focus on the older looking man beside you. He licks his lips, his scar glistening under the everchanging technicolour lights flooding the club.

“Wanna get going, gorgeous?” he asks, leaning over to speak into your ear. The rough gravel to his voice rushing straight to your pulsing cunt. You shouldn’t, really, should you? It’s not smart to go home with guys you’ve never met. You don’t know him or his intentions, he could be plying you with alcohol to get you stupid enough to kill you.

“Mhmm.” you nod, dumbly, consequences be damned. If you die, you’ll die by the hand of a man so beautiful you’d think an angel would cry at his presence. He takes your hand, leading you outside and hailing a cab. You at least have the sense to go to your place, knowing your cousin lives a few doors down and will surely here if things go wrong.

He kisses you deeply in the back of the cab, fingers digging into your skin as he squeezes your plush thigh. You moan, lewdly, when he tells you to stick out your tongue and he sucks it before licking it with his own. Tongues tangling as he continues to squeeze and knead your malleable flesh.

“Head on up, I’ll follow you.” he tells you as he pulls out his wallet. You nod, agreeing, whispering your apartment number before clambering out of the car. The chill of the 2am air bites at your skin, and you hurry to the security door. You pull the key from your purse and rush inside.

Toji takes his time paying the driver, grunting as he puts his wallet away and slides out of his side of the car. He slowly skulks to the entrance, smiling when he realises you remembered to leave the latch for him to get inside. He sees a crowd gathered by the elevator and opts to take the stairs instead.

He smirks, gleefully, when he sees you waiting by the front door.

“Watcha doin’, gorgeous?” he wonders.

“Waiting for you.” you confess, looking down at your feet awkwardly as shame surges through your body.

He approaches, slowly. But before you know it you’re looking up at him and caged between his body and your front door. His hands rest against the frame as he studies your blown eyes and nervous face.

“Somethin’ tells me you’ve never had a one night stand before,” he smiles, scar pulling deliciously once again. You can barely form a thought unable to break yourself from the hypnotising mark on his lip. “Unlock the door.”

“I already did…” you gulp, nervously, still unable to tear your eyes away from his.

He likes your answer, picking you up so that your legs wrap around his waist and he lets himself into your home. Your lips lock and tongues clash as he controls the kiss, but your eagerness gets the better of you. Your hips rutting and soft moans pour from you as you portray yourself as a desperate slut for his benefit.

You pout, a little defeated, as he sets you back down. Though the disappoint dies an instantaneous death as he spins you around so your back is to him, pushing you into the wall by your entryway.

“Have you fucked a stranger before, princess?” he asks, brushing your hair from your shoulder and whispering devilishly into your ear. You shake your head, pathetic strings of ‘no!’ spilling from your lips as his fingers explore under your dress and pinch your ass. You bite your lip as you feel his heavy fingers prod at your drippy panties. He huffs out a laugh when he realises how wet you are. “Allllll of this jus’ for me? You shouldn’t have, darlin’.”

“B-Been wet… since you asked if I wanted a drink…” you tell him, giggling a little and hiding your face against the wall.

“No no no…” he objects, tugging your hair softly to draw you out. “Wanna see you, wanna see how you look when I ruin you.” you feel your body flush with heat at his words, turning your head to the side so he can see you again. You place your palms against the wall to brace yourself, not expecting him to pull your panties down your legs from under your dress.

He relishes in how you can barely keep your eyes open as he sinks two fingers into your sopping cunt and your panties drop to the ground. You bite your inner cheek, though it does little to keep you quiet as he curls his fingers against your spongy insides.

“Oh fuck.” you gasp, ashamed that you might cum after a few pathetic pumps of his fingers. Though it doesn’t feel right. You don’t want it to stop, but you don’t feel like you usually do when you’re close to cumming. “W-Wait.” you move your head and try to close your legs.

“Sh.” he stops you, kicking your ankles to keep your legs open. He holds your head against the wall with his forearm, his breathing heavy in your ear. You shudder when he kisses against it, chuckling quietly when he feels your pussy begin to clench. “Stop clenching, push. It’ll feel good, promise… push against me.” he commands.

You don’t know what’s he’s talking about. Push your body? No, he said stop clenching. You’re trying to keep him inside, keep the feeling inside. But he repeats it. Push. And like he’s the master of your cunt, it listens.

“Good girl, baby…” he praises you as he notes the pressure switch from your tender hole. You moan, and he coos. Faux sympathy as he fucks you dumb on his thick digits.

“Toji! Ngh—!” you moan. Clear liquid jets from your pussy, dripping down your thighs and soaking your panties and the floor beneath. He doesn’t let up, either, still battering his fingers against your g-spot.

“There you go, princess. Good fuckin’ girl… so good for me darlin’.” he moans, too, getting off on your pleasure and the striking realisation that you’ve never squirted before. He’s proud of himself, and he’s proud of you. “Fuckin’ soaked your pretty panties, sweetheart. Dirty little girl…” he teases.

You don’t have the energy to respond, already spent from cumming in such an alien way. He kisses your shoulder as your legs continue to shake. Any logic from the thought of telling him to stop fingering you dissipates when you think that he can you make you cum like that again.

He feels his hardened cock over his jeans as he looks down at the puddle beneath you. Still pumping his fingers against your sweet spot until your eyes roll over white. He can’t take it anymore. The unrelenting inner voice telling him to touch himself. He thinks he might die if he doesn’t stroke his length, even for a minute.

“Don’t move.” he orders.

You stay still, unsure of what he’s doing. Though you whimper as you feel his body press against yours. His head sinks to the top of your dress, and you just about cum again when you realise he’s biting down on the metal zipper, pulling it down with his teeth as exposing your bare back.

The black mini dress falls to the ground into the puddle of your lewdness and your drenched underwear.

“Good girl, stay there.”

He pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it aside down the hallway, only to be seen by the end of this dalliance. You hear him kick off his shoes and quickly throws away his socks. Eagerly, his pants follow, as do his underwear. He’s just as naked as you, now. And you choke out a breath as you hear him drop to his knees, licking up the mess on your thighs and pussy. But he turns around, sitting on his ass with his back against the wall, without a care for the wetness beneath. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your cunt towards his face.

“Sit.” he instructs.

You do, without pause, moaning boisterously as he sucks at your clit and covers his face in your sweetness. One arm remains hooked around thigh while the other releases, hand in search of his aching length. He plays with himself, alternating between lazy strokes and passionate ones. The taste of your cunt makes him dizzy, unable to believe how much slick you’re producing as he relentlessly feasts on your flesh.

“F-fuck, Toji… finger me, please.” you beg. He’s leaking like crazy, and thinks your request might have come at the perfect time. He lets himself go in favour of pleasuring you, the sound of your sticky cunt squelching with each press throughout your eerie apartment. Neither of you had even found time to turn on a light, the only thing illuminating the room is the filtering light sneaking in through the cracks of your front door. “G’na cum, a-again… holy— s-shit.” you moan.

It spurs him on, maintaining all of his ministrations as he tries to coax your second orgasm out of you. He grunts, loudly, against your sodden folds as you squirt again. His face and hair doused with your release as he doesn’t dare pull away. The sadistic desire to prolong your ecstasy is fuelling him to keep going. He feels like he might cum untouched as he feels your cum cover him.

Your legs give, his burly arms hook around your thighs again in a bid to keep you stable. But his hands wander, impatiently. Fingers grip into your waist as he pulls you away from the wall.

He helps you down, hovering you above his longing cock as he guides it to your spent hole.

“I don’t have any condoms.” he tells you.

“Don’t care—” you assure him, wriggling your hips eagerly. “’m on the pill.”

“Greedy girl,” he smirks, pushing you down onto his cock. You want to scream from the stretch but you manage to refrain. He sets a ruthless pace, forcing you to accommodate to it quickly. “Been so sweet for me, darlin’. Gonna be nice ‘n do all the work for ya, okay? Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you! Thank you.” you babble nonsensically.

His knees are bent as he fucks up into your abused hole, the velocity propelling you forward. Your fingers clutch onto his shoulders for dear life as he takes advantage of your body being in such close proximity to his mouth. He sucks your tits, eliciting a dreamy moan from you. The gorgeous sounds you make for him have his cock drooling inside of your unprotected walls.

It's so sorrowful, really, thinking about how pathetic you both are. He seemed so calm and collected and yet neither of you could even make it through the hallway of your apartment before you were both stripped bare. You thought you’d be fucking comfortably on your bed. But here you are, being fucking destroyed by his monstrously large cock on the wooden, soaking, hallway floor.

“Gonna cum, baby.” he breathes against your spit soaked tits. The admission makes you cream, clenching around his thick, veiny cock as you brace yourself. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna cum again. Can feel it, little cock slut. No one’ll fuck you like this again, y’know.”

“Ah- aaaah—!” is all you can say as a lesser stream of liquid shoots from you once more. The internal bliss you feel makes you pass out momentarily. But you come around quick enough to feel your untainted insides become stained with his white, creamy warmth.

He groans, deeply, bouncing you up and down his length. He wishes there was a light on to see the creamy ring and the messy puddle you’ve created together.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” he tells you, grasping the crown of your head with his palm to guide you into a sloppy kiss. He manages to stand up whilst keeping himself slotted comfortably inside of you. You giggle as you guide him to the nearest light switch, and both of you look down at the mess you’ve made. Shame builds once again and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Awe, pretty girl made a dirty little mess f’me.” he teases you.

“Stop! ‘m so embarrassed!” you tell him, the sentence muffled as you talk into his skin.

“S’okay, rest up.” he tells you, stroking your back soothingly. “Give me a tour, wanna see the next place we can make a mess of.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[faithfulren]

tent troubles

hi everyonee!! i just wanted to thank you for 50 likes, its a start and it truly means the world to me. i'm so glad you guys like my stuff and i deeply appreciate it, and i hope you guys continue to support me! :) <3

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as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the forest, class 1-A set up camp. laughter and chatter filled the air as everyone pitched in, erecting tents and preparing for a night under the stars. you were excited, the prospect of camping with your friends bringing a smile to your face. that smile, however, faded when you realized you were paired with katsuki bakugo.

you and bakugo had always had a irregular relationship. his fiery temper and your headstrong nature often clashed, leading to more arguments than you cared to count. but aizawa-sensei, in his infinite wisdom, had decided that this trip was the perfect opportunity for you two to learn to work together.

"just stay out of my way," bakugo grumbled, dropping the tent supplies at your feet. he was already annoyed, and you knew better than to poke the bear.

"sure, bakugo," you replied, trying to keep the peace. you bent down to pick up the tent poles, but he snatched them away before you could grab them.

"i said stay out of my way," he repeated, more forcefully this time. you bit back a retort and stepped back, crossing your arms as you watched him struggle with the poles.

minutes passed in tense silence. bakugo was clearly having trouble setting up the tent, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to ask for help. finally, with a frustrated growl, he threw the poles to the ground.

"do you want help now?" you asked, unable to keep the smugness out of your voice.

"shut up and just… help me," he muttered, glaring at you.

together, you managed to get the tent set up, though not without several more snide comments and glares from bakugo. by the time it was finished, the sky had turned a deep indigo, and the first stars were beginning to appear.

you sat down by the campfire, feeling exhausted but somewhat accomplished. bakugo sat across from you, his scowl softened slightly by the firelight. the others were busy roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories, the atmosphere light and cheerful.

"here," bakugo said suddenly, holding out a stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow. you blinked in surprise.

"uh, thanks," you said, taking the marshmallow from him. It was uncharacteristically kind of him, and you couldn't help but wonder what had prompted the gesture.

"don't read too much into it," he snapped, looking away. "i just didn't want to hear you whining about not having one."

"sure, bakugo," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

the night wore on, and eventually, everyone headed back to their tents. you crawled into your sleeping bag, trying to get comfortable on the uneven ground. bakugo was already lying down, his back to you.

for a while, you lay in silence, listening to the sounds of the forest. You were almost asleep when you heard bakugo's voice, quiet and hesitant.

"why don't you hate me?"

you turned to face him, confused. "..what?"

"i said, why don't you hate me?" he repeated, louder this time. "i’m always yelling at you, and you never fight back.. why?"

you thought about it for a moment. "because I know there's more to you than just your temper. you're a good person, bakugo, even if you don't always show it."

he was silent for a long time. then, just as you were beginning to think he wouldn't respond, he spoke again.

"thanks," he said softly, almost too softly for you to hear. "and… sorry.. i guess."

it was a small apology, but coming from Bakugo, it meant a lot. you smiled in the darkness, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the campfire.

"goodnight, bakugo," you whispered, closing your eyes.

"goodnight," he replied, his voice gentler than you'd ever heard it.

and for the first time since you'd started at UA, you fell asleep feeling like maybe, just maybe, you and bakugo could be friends after all.

[soupandsimple]

Feelings (with Aaron Hotchner)

[ the lead up of you and neighbor, Aaron, revealing you have feelings for each other ]

* fluff 🩶 (+ light angst)

** have never watched the show, have never wrote for him and will probably never write for him again but I’ve read a ton of his fics and had this idea and just really wanted to write it out and share it!(pls be nice)

…………….

Aaron is your divorcee neighbor; has been for about a year. Within that year, you’d say you’d become pretty good friends with him as well as with his son who he had with him most weekends. To anyone, it was all seemingly platonic from both ends. You’d bake and gift them batches of sweets and he’d take down any packages you may need sent out on his way to work in the morning…etc.

Any unspoken feelings either of you harbored unfortunately only began to come to light when his ex wife, Hayley, was horrifically killed.

Aaron came to your door as soon as he could the night of the tragedy and with glossy eyes said, “Is this a bad time? I need someone to talk to.”

“No, of course not. Come in,” your voice shook, instantly thinking the worst. “What happened Aaron, where’s Jack? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, he’s with..with Hayley’s family,” he said, struggling to keep up his stoic demeanor before completely breaking down in sobs. “Oh Y/N.. it’s awful, it’s — … you have- you have no idea.”

That was the first night you ever spent together. He had fallen asleep on your shoulder with teary eyes as you ran your fingers through his hair to soothe him. When you both woke up in the morning, Aaron apologized for burdening you with his troubles and said he had to get going to see what was going on with the funeral preparations. Although neither of you mentioned it, there was a shift in your friendship from that day forward.

After giving him some space to tend to what he needed to do, you went over to his place.

“Hi. I was going to come over yesterday but who wants to see anyone after a funeral..” you said lightly, walking in after he gestured you inside his apartment.

“I would have loved if you did.”

You nodded and tried not to blush as he closed the door. “Is Jack here?”

“No. I’m letting him spend one last day with Hayley’s parents while they’re still in town.”

He then went on to explain how the plan was for his sister-in-law, Jess, to start coming around to help out with Jack when he couldn’t be with him but that in the meantime, he’d be looking after him while he took some time off from work while Jack took some time off from school too.

“Well I hope you know you can also count on me helping out too.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you, but you’re more than welcome to. I know Jack loves having you around...”

You ordered takeout that night so he wouldn’t have to make dinner or be alone and before you left, promised you’d be back in the morning.

“Y/N, when you said you could help I thought you meant after I went back to work. You don’t have to start rearranging your schedule yet, I’m still going to be around for a couple of days.”

“I know…but I know you and I know you’ve been putting up a brave front for me tonight and you don’t have to do that with me. I want to be here for you to lean on these coming days.”

“I don’t-”

“I’ll be here tomorrow, and don’t forget to drink that cup of tea I made you before bed, ” you said with a quick, parting hug, leaving him no time to protest as you were already back inside your own place.

You ended up helping the following days more than he ever expected. Since you were an assistant to an event planner, you worked mostly from home making and getting calls; the hours were very flexible so it gave you the ability to do all you could for the Hotchner boys.

Meals and household chores, like laundry and dishes, were all easier for Aaron to accomplish with you around; you were such a positive encouragement for both of them as you made sure Jack stayed on top of his tasks too, like making his bed, brushing his teeth and cleaning up after himself.

Of course with being over everyday, Jack began clinging to you more than he ever used to and while you loved the little boy to pieces, you were worried if you being around so much would affect him negatively. When you expressed your worries to Aaron one night after Jack went to sleep, he immediately put them to an end.

“I don’t know if you knew this but Hayley knew about you. Jack would talk to her about you … and she enjoyed it— listening to how much you cared for her little boy,” Aaron told you as you both stood leaning against the island in his dimly lit kitchen before you left for the night.

“I didn’t know that,” you answered, eyes beginning to gloss.

So what if he left out the small detail of Hayley telling him he should ask out his pretty neighbor Jack always talked about; that wasn’t the important part of the memory, well, important for the matter at hand anyway.

“And almost every night before bed, Jack tells me that he’s happy you’ve been coming everyday. That you make him feel ‘okay-er’. Y/N, he loves you and he knows you’re not here to replace anyone.”

Mind at ease then, with a small smile and a stray tear or two, you pushed yourself off the kitchen island and hugged yourself into his chest, which he more than happily accepted and embraced you tightly into for a minute.

“Thanks for making me feel ‘okay-er’ about all this,” you said, looking up at him from where your head rested against him.

He smiled down at you and wiped a tear from your cheek. “Thank you for being here for us.”

All was well as the days went on until it was time for Aaron to return to work. Jack had returned to school the day before and since everything went smoothly, Aaron could then confidently go back to work too knowing Jack had readjusted just fine.

But that morning, Aaron took longer than usual to come out dressed for the day after breakfast, and the time frame he could use to take Jack to school before work was starting to get dangerously close to closing.

“Hey Jack, I’m going to go check on your dad. If he doesn’t come out soon you just might be late for school. Stay put while I get him, finish watching your show,” you said, tickling his side a little making him giggle as you walked off to Aarons room.

You knocked twice at his door and when he didn’t answer either time, you took a little bit of a risk and went in uninvited. What you saw was him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the floor pensively, dress shirt untucked and tie undone around his collar.

“Aaron?” you spoke quietly.

“I can’t do this,” he said, still looking down.

You closed the door behind you and slowly walked towards him.

“You can’t do what?”

“Return to the real world.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you sat down next to him and waited for him to continue.

“It’s been- it’s been so great being here in the apartment with just Jack and you… in our own little private world but I’m afraid— it just all feels so different. I feel different. I don’t think I’m going back mentally the same way I left.”

“Well of course you’re not going back the same. You went through something incredibly traumatizing..”

You grabbed one of the bottom edges of his tie and looked down at your fingers as you delicately ran them back and forth over the smooth silk.

“Aaron, I know you’re a little nervous of stepping back into everyday life and I’m.. a little nervous for you too but you got this. I believe in you. You’re the best at what you do and nobody can take that away from you,” you said, letting go of the tie. When you looked up at him, his eyes were on you and seemed to be full of fondness; it made you blush.

“N-now finish getting ready so you can go drop off that adorable little boy out there in time,” you smiled, nervously standing from where you sat next to him.

As you turned to walk away, he stood too and stretched his hand out to gently grab one of your wrists. You turned back completely and both just looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds; millions of unspoken words and emotions passing between you.

He then finally spoke.

“I really hope I’m not ruining anything but more than ever, I think it’s important to tell you I’ve had feelings for you for pretty much as long as I’ve known you.”

“I’ve had those feelings too, for you,” you admitted.

Relieved, he smiled and you did the same. Slipping his hand down from your wrist, he then took your hand into his properly and interlocked his fingers with yours.

Towering over you like always, he stepped closer and closer and slowly craned his head down as he gently placed the hand that wasn’t holding yours, behind your head. You both closed your eyes and you could feel his lips right in front of yours but could tell he was hesitant to go further.

“Kiss me Aaron,” you told him with a little tremble in your voice. And although you couldn’t see him, you felt him smile before he softly pushed his lips against yours.

Your first kiss was a tender one but after the initial pull away, both his hands landed on your waist and yours around his neck as you leaned back into each other for a more heated and passionate kiss. It was an internal struggle, but eventually you managed to pull yourself away from his lips completely.

“Jack needs to get to school,” you giggled.

Aaron rested his forehead against yours. “And I need to get to work. This beautiful neighbor of mine believes in me and I don’t want to let her down.”

“Hm, sounds like a smart girl,” you teased.

He stood tall and interlocked his hands with each of yours. “Incredibly smart, incredibly caring, incredibly attractive.. the list could go on,” he concluded, embracing you with a warm hug and a kiss to the top of your head. <3

[sugairsstuff]

hey… 💋 was wondering if you could write something for aragorn… you know who this is. you know what i’m asking for.

@theactofknowing yes i know who this is. here is payment. (p.s. they also write!)

(credit to @cafekitsune for the divider)

to bloom

aragorn x half-elf gn/reader

warnings: descriptions of nudity

summary: you and aragorn have known each other for years, resulting in the two of you inevitably falling in love with each other though never admitting it. though, it turns out all a love confession took was a bar of soap and you two bathing in a lake together.

Exhaustion has long since seeped into your muscles, the motion of placing one boot in front of the other becoming a rhythmic pattern you refuse to break for you know you won’t be able to pick it back up again.

Strong winds roll through the grassy fields, making a mess of your untied hair and causing your eyes to catch the billowing of a dark cloak in front of you. You raise your head slightly to gaze at the owner of the garment: reluctant heir of Gondor, unnamed leader of the little band titled the Fellowship the group of you have formed- and although commonly known as Strider, this part-elf is simply Aragorn to you.

The pair of you had been picked up by the group of hobbits you traveled with in Bree, helping them to evade the infamous Nazgûl and inevitably being brought along the daunting journey laid out for them. You had first met Aragorn years ago when he had first left Rivendell. You led a similar fate to Aragorn after you befriended him, leaving the safety of your current life for one of adventure alongside the ranger. Poets would say you were seeking meaning, you joke that you were bored.

The seed of friendship you and Aragorn had planted then was watered through the experiences you shared on your travels, the memories that wrapped themselves like vines around that bond holding you two together, and every laugh and secret you both managed out of each other in peaceful times. But then you two began to look at each softer, speak to each other quieter for the words were meant only for the two of you, touch each other in fleeting moments that may not have been accidents- and then that seed grew into a budding flower of more that you gathered up and have held deep within your chest. Though no matter how much you both watered the bond of your friendship since then, that flower has never seemed to bloom.

Aragorn finally looks over his shoulder to the rest of you, and everyone momentarily pauses as he lifts his hand to guide everyone’s attention to a forestry patch of land seated a few hundred metres south of the hill you all waited on. “We’ll take camp there for tonight. We won’t reach Lothlorien by dusk, and I haven’t seen a better place for cover yet.” he instructs. Nobody seems to disagree, not even the opinionated elf or eager dwarf who both wait at your sides. Once three of four hobbits start celebrating, enthusiastically asking who would hunt for dinner, you offer Aragorn a small smile and nod of assurance. He repeats the gesture and turns to lead the way, but not without a response to the impatient hobbits, “You all can hunt dinner for us tonight, how does that sound?” which silences them.

You hurry a pair of paces to match the long strides of Aragorn, who slows down when he notices exactly who is on his tail. “You look exhausted,” you tell him, amusement flickering in your eyes as you look to him.

“As do you,” Aragorn shoots back, his brows raised in subtle entertainment at your rather honest opening line.

You scoff lightheartedly and get to the point of your words, reaching down to the satchel at your side to unbutton the flap and reveal the contents. Aragorn leans over you to peer into the bag, finding four small bars of soap.

“From the travelling merchant we crossed earlier?” the heir asks, and you nod proudly as if this was a noble accomplishment on your end.

“I do not have confidence in myself to survive another day with the… natural aroma of our companions,” you jest, and pause, “or you.”

And to your pleasant surprise, Aragorn’s chin tilts back- outlining the sharp line of his jaw- as the man lets a genuine laugh escape his lips. “I would not say you are so innocent in the matter, either,” he says, the closed-lipped smile on his face not faltering as you send a warning glare his way.

You feel lighter as you walk alongside Aragorn the rest of the way to the tree border, smiling like a giddy child for longer than need be over the silly interaction. You and Aragorn maintain the front as the lot of you push further into the forest until Aragorn stops, glances around, and looks to you and Legolas for approval.

You turn to look over your shoulder, and when you see that the forest has become dense enough to block the border to the grasslands from your line of sight, you say, “I think we are far enough in.”

Legolas had already found perch on a fallen log, fiddling with the strings of his bow, and so you and Aragorn simply take that as a sign he agrees.

As the sun dips behind the distant hills, the shadows of the trees encompassing you all extend until the soft starlight slipping through the canopy dims them. Now, camp is set up, and the fire Aragorn once was stroking while Gimli cooked the hunted meal of the evening has been forgotten. Most of your companions have spaced out their places for the night, all but the hobbits who crowd next to their friend Frodo.

You gingerly place your things down nearby Aragorn’s, and when you offer to take first watch Aragorn’s volunteer to do the same comes not much later than yours. You both sit next to each other as you listen to the idle noises of your companions turn to quietness, and quietness to silence save for the surrounding sounds of the forest.

You catch Aragorn glance to you in your peripheral vision which tempts you to steal a glance back. When you do, you are surprised to see he has risen from the leafy floor he was sitting on and began crossing the few metres that separated the two of you. You stay sitting, craning your neck as Aragorn now stands a few feet in front of you. You tilt your head in questioning.

“There is a lake nearby, I saw it when I scouted the perimeters earlier,” his voice is low, quiet, though you see his Adam’s apple bob slightly as he swallows, “May I borrow the soap?”

Any hint of drowsiness has been stolen from your body, your heart beating rapidly as you nod to him. You do not like how the thought of the man doing the simple act of bathing makes your body blaze like a catching fire. You dig into your nearby satchel and hand him one of the square, neutral coloured bars. Aragorn turns the dry thing in his hand a few times before he turns and walks away.

You do not watch him go and rather turn back to your satchel to close the button of it, wondering why the crunching of leaves beneath Aragorn’s walking feet ceased so swiftly. Curiously, you turn to check, finding Aragorn returning your gaze.

Aragorn clears his throat. “Would you like to join me?”

You can only blink, feeling that flame return to your body as his words act like oxygen and spread its tendrils through you.

“Yes, I would,” you say, though the words come out more breathless than you had expected.

You feel Aragorn’s eyes on you as you stand, dusting off your trousers in the most awkward of ways before padding over to where he stands. He only looks down at you, the look in his eyes gentle yet unreadable before he quietly turns and begins to guide you to this lake.

“What of the others?” you ask, glancing back.

“I do not wish to bathe with Gimli,” Aragorn responds with blunt humour, looking back at you with a raised brow.

“No, I mean that we promised to watch the camp,” you correct, managing not to roll your eyes.

“The lake is not far. We will know if something happens.” he assures.

Although it may be easy for him to remain alert, you are not sure if you can trust your instincts once you are distracted with the sight of Aragorn’s bare body. Aragorn seems to see apprehension on your face, and makes a bold move of reaching back to brush his fingers against yours. Then, your fingers close around each other’s like lock and key, and Aragorn is gently pulling you until you reach a clearing.

The trees wrap around the small, oval lake like a wreath. The water is not murky, a sign that it is untouched, and instead when you peer into it you see both your reflection and the moon above.

When you turn to see what Aragorn is doing, unsure if you are welcome to begin undressing so openly, you see that the ranger has already begun to do exactly that. You heart leaps and your chest flutters so much that you think that bud in you is instead a cocoon that has just sprouted a dancing butterfly.

Aragorn already unclasped his cloak from around his neck, discarding it nearby on a rock that borders the lake’s edge. He disarms, setting his weapons on the same rock should he need them, then reaches for the hem of his tunic. The man pulls the fabric off of him slowly, revealing to you the muscles beneath that you have only been able to imagine until now. You gaze at him, following the movement of his hands until you see them stop. Your eyes flick up slightly and are met with an amused half-smirk on Aragorn’s end. That flame in you moved to burn in your cheeks as you turn your head away, seeing Aragorn slowly walk towards you in the edge of your vision.

“Do not be nervous,” he says quietly, his hand turning your jaw slowly so you meet his eyes again. You feel your heart in your ears as his attention moves lower, lower, lower, and then back. “Would you like me to help?”

You can only nod. He smiles and nods back before his hands move to the clasps of your cloak, working it undone with ease. He sets your weapons aside somewhere- too distracted to take note- before he pulls your tunic off of your raised arms. Aragorn takes a step closer, removing the rest of your undergarments before a turn of his head causes his lips to brush against the shell of your half-pointed ear, “Beautiful.” he murmurs, evoking a pleasant shiver that slips down your spine.

His hands, resting on each side of your waist, move downwards until they reach the band of your trousers. You kick off your boots in silent encouragement, and Aragorn turns his head further to look down at you properly. Then he begins to slowly drag the last few pieces of your clothing that kept you decent, and once you stepped out of them- Aragorn now kneeling before you as he set aside your aside garments- you heard both of your breaths hitch.

Aragorn rises again, your breaths heavy as you both glance in the direction of whence you came, checking that none of your sleeping friends have noticed your absences. You look back at Aragorn first and see how the moonlight betrays Aragorn as he slowly drifts his attention back to you, illuminating the red tinting of his cheeks. He takes his sweet time in simply looking at your body, and you hear him sigh softly- a gentle, sweet exhale. The amusing thought of him swooning over you like a damsel crosses your mind.

Aragorn seems to notice the light dancing in your eyes, and he takes your hand and leads you to the rocky edges of the lake. “After you,” he tells you, and you feel as his eyes never leave you as you descend into the water. You wade around, taking note that water in the area you stand reaches your middle, and watch as Aragorn strips himself of the rest of his clothing.

Shamelessly, you stare as he undos his trousers, slipping them off alongside his undergarment and blushing when he sees you looking. You offer a coy smile in return, reaching over the edge to grab the soap he left on it as he enters the water alongside you.

“You first,” you tell him, and he obeys by wading over to where you stand. As you dip the soap into the water, getting some of the substance on to your hands, you feel a little grateful that the water is just high enough to reach Aragorn’s waist. He remains where he is as you work the soap into his skin, your heart jumping each time he sighs when you press into a particularly sore muscle. His skin gleams with moonlight and sparkles with droplets of water that cling to the short strands of hair on his chest leading downwards. You wash his arms, focus on his shoulders, and when he turns around to let you do his chest your hands linger there.

“Friends do not do these things,” is what Aragorn decides to say to break the comfortable silence.

“No, they do not,” you agree, your voice wavering with uncertainty. You keep your gaze on his chest, cupping water in your hand as you rinse off the soap. You let him wash the parts of him below the surface of the water, grinning as you can’t help but steal glances. But he says nothing else, nor do you, as you quietly find a seat on a ledge in the rock. Aragorn moves to stand between your legs, leaning back so his head is nearly against your chest.

You gather soap on your hands once more, lathering the suds through his hair. You watch from above as he sighs and closes his eyes, giving in to temptation as he leans further back into you. You massage the soap into his dark oak curls, watching his eyelashes flutter against his cheek and the corners of his pink lips tug upwards ever so slightly. You tilt his head back a little more as you cup water into your free hand, pouring it along the back of his head and watch as it drags the soap off of his curls that resist straightening even when wet.

Before you have the chance to climb down from your perch on the rock, Aragorn reaches a hand to your calf. His fingers dance along the skin, as if exploring, and travel up until they reach your thigh. By then, he’s looking up at you, and you are looking down at him, and his face is so close to yours you know that you both are only trying to see who caves first.

And it is Aragorn who does. He tilts his chin only slightly, which is enough to capture your lips in his as you lean over him. Your hands move to drape around his neck as his continue their journey up your thighs. He lifts you by the waist, bringing you back down to the lake floor with him so that it is he who must bend downwards to keep kissing you. You press your chest into his, standing practically between his legs as you both run your hands over each other’s bodies. Aragorn leaves a spark everywhere his fingers brush- your waist, your legs, back, chest, neck- he is everywhere but it is still not enough.

You know now what it feels like to bloom as that bud deep within your chest comes to life as Aragorn’s hands find their final place on each side of your face. His thumbs stroke gently in a lover’s caress as he finally breaks the kiss, though he does not move far. The look he gives you as you both stand together- chests heaving and lips puffy red with adrenaline pumping through your veins- tells you that Aragorn has just discovered what that feels like too, for there has been a matching budding flower in him, as well.

“We are not friends,” Aragorn finally says. You have never heard his voice so soft, “we are more.”

[bouquetface]

Composite Chart Observations

Accuracy influenced by entire chart.

Scorpio 12th H.

12th H can indicate potential reasons a couple breaks up. In this case, it was due to cheating. Scorpio indicates issues with secrets, power dynamics & control.

Capricorn 2nd H.

These couples tend to be cautious when spending. It’s best for both parties when an equal amount is being spent by each.

Ex: I’ll pay for this and you pay next time. I’ll cook dinner and you will wash dishes.

However, entire chart must be taken into consideration. Cap 2nd H can mean a couple with traditional values/roles.

Moon in 3rd H.

Communication brings you closer. You feel listened to and understood. Especially when in an air sign, you can discuss anything with each other. You can like to debate as well. A best friend kind of relationship.

Moon placement.

imo moon placement can tell you if it is possible for the couple to end on good times (if they end)

Ex: Aqua Moon - in composite I’ve seen twice as the couple eventually letting things go & being causal acquaintances/friends.

Ex: Scorpio Moon - the only way the two would stay friends is because one or both want to keep tabs on the other.

6th H Aries.

The two may be prone to fighting throughout the day. Having physical hobbies/outlets is a good manifestation of this. Couple that works together to solve problems.

Ex: Doing home repairs together. Gym couple.

Moon in 6th.

Sensitive to one another throughout the day. One person may feel they’re putting in all the effort. One person may feel the other’s expectations from them are unrealistic.

The two can become critical of each other. They may keep their true negative feelings inside until they blow up. Or depending on sign, they let their feelings be known leading to fights.

Scorpio First House.

You are meant to transform in this relationship. There can be a lot of passion and intensity. Change may feel painful. One person may feel controlled.

There may be unbalanced power dynamic. Ex: One person is older. One person is more experienced. One person is more accomplished in career. One person has authority over you.

I’ve also noticed in these relationships (regardless of whether this platonic or romantic) one person is more aware of the other. I’m avoiding using the word stalking because that implies it’s always in a negative way. What I mean is one person has likely admired the other for a while.

Venus in 2nd.

Good for business relationships. The two value wealth. If afflicted, the two spend recklessly when in a relationship.

To feel secure in the connection, physical and/or materialistic things may be important. Being generous with affection and gifts. Feeling more confident in the relationship.

Mars in 2nd.

Similar to Venus in 2nd, this is either good for making money or indicating spending too much.

In this connection, the two take their time with each other. A no pressure relationship. If badly afflicted, one person is faking it. They want more now. The other is not offering it.

On the bright side, maintaining attraction is more easy for this couple. Physically affectionate. Possessive of one another.

Sun in 2nd.

Another indicator of being good business partners. If you have similar values, this is a good placement. If you don’t, you can try to convince the other. This can lead to issues. This can be the kind of relationship where one thinks they can fix/convince the other over time.

On the bright side, the two of you can value things that last. Wanting to create a legacy with each other. Wanting to be respected. Physical expression is important to feel secure.

Sag 2nd H.

You can become open minded in this relationship. A willingness to try things a new way. In the 2nd, this can either be good or bad for finances. The two will be very generous with each other. If you can afford it, all is well. If you can’t, you can have financial problems.

Mercury in 3rd.

Communication is easy between the two of you. Mercury is in the home it rules. The two are comfortable. They feel understood. They have no problem talking about “difficult” topics.

This can change based on entire chart. For ex: Cap 3rd H. You two can be reserved in communication. Thinking about what you wan to say, predicting how it will be perceived before speaking. You may have issues with being vulnerable.

Libra 3rd H.

You may like to debate each other. Conversations are flirty. May tell white lies to make each other happy.

The two may avoid difficult conversations to keep the peace. Protect the moment by repressing negative feelings rather than communicating.

Aqua 4th H.

The foundation can be unstable. There may times where one or both are unsure about the future. The two may have a non traditional start. On the bright side, relationship can be built on the foundation of respect for one another’s intelligence, interests/hobbies & uniqueness.

Saturn in 7th.

Saturn will test the relationship. The tests will bring you closer. Strengthening the connection. Assuring both are committed. However, the tests can lead to disharmony.

Saturn in 10th.

This can be one of the better placements for saturn. The planet is naturally associated with the 10th. This can make the couple appear traditional. The two are responsible & ambitious when together. You can help one another reach goals. Good sign of a long term partnership too.

[bookfanatic06]

I haven’t written anything in over a decade, but this head canon just won’t go away. I’ve often wondered if the idea of “like calls to like” will be prevalent in Elriel’s book like in all the others. I really feel like Elain is hiding some deep shit that just can’t be ignored. This piece is really what I think could happen if Elain deep down shares Azriel’s penchant for self loathing and low self esteem. She gets so much crap from the fandom for being boring, I really see her surprising us with some darker personality traits.

Also, my favorite thing about this other than the Elriel fluff is Nesta. I wanted to see her and Elain making up after the events of ACOSF on page. I didn’t hate Nesta, just thought she treated my baby El poorly.

I’m not sure if I’ll write more to this, or if it’s going to stay a one shot. I’m also not sure if I’m ready to post to AO3. I’m a mom with 3 kids and a full time teaching gig. I’m not sure I have it in me.

So here is my first shot at writing Elriel.

Unworthy

Words: 5112

Angst/Romance

Pairings: Major: Elain Archeron/Azriel,

Minor: Feyre/Rhysand, Cassian/Nesta, Varian/Amren

———————

Remember who you are, Kingslayer.

She breathes to herself as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, plastering on the smile she knows her family would never second guess. Perfected so much over the years in her mother’s keep, as she was taught to never reveal her true emotions, to never let anyone see the heartbreak, the pain of unworthiness embedded in her very soul.

The dreams plaguing her at the moment, the ones that increase with the unyielding torrent of emotions swirling in her mind, are of her family having lost their use of her. That she has become a burden that they can cast aside so needlessly. So she sits at the mirror and contemplates how to be helpful. She’ll practice those new recipes that she received from that fae female at the market. She’ll make the gardens of Velaris so beautiful, people will ask for her. She’ll care for Nyx when his parents need a break.

But still, she feels the hole in her chest and wonders if it’ll be enough. Will she forever be cast aside or passed over in favor of her sisters because of their far more important accomplishments?

What exactly has she accomplished?

I killed the King of Hybern. She whispers so that only the shadows can hear. Not Nesta, as all of Prythian seemed to believe. She knows she pushed that knife into his throat, she still dreams about it; still feels the hilt of the blade in her hands. Even the shadows, the ones that she felt the comforting presence of for so long, have gone quiet since solstice.

She knows that her sisters are magnificent. That they both have earned their right to voice their opinions and be cherished in this world. Feyre, the High Lady that the Night Court deserves, and Nesta, the warrior she was always meant to be. But Elain, she carries the weight of unworthiness everywhere she goes. She wasn’t born to lead, she wasn’t born to be a warrior. She was born with a gentle heart, with a delicate resolve. But a will of iron.

You shoved that knife into his neck. You aren’t as gentle as you believe yourself to be.

She’s intimately familiar with self loathing by now. It curls around her like the vines that wrap around the fortress of her mind. But that voice, the voice that is hers, but much more confidently so, tries to remind her of what she has to offer. Her heart breaks as the self loathing pushes through whispers, “He doesn’t want someone who is brittle and weak. He wants someone courageous, someone with fire in their heart, someone like…”

Mor.

Despite the months that have passed since she found herself alone in the foyer in the early morning hours of Winter Solstice, she is still tortured by the thought that even her dearest friend, or whom she believed him to be, had been repulsed by her meritless existence. The pain of that night has yet to ebb, and she wonders if, at some point in her immortal life, it ever will.

She huffs a breath and stands from her vanity, moving to open the door and walk into the hallway, that gentle but false smile she’s perfected on her face.

As she reaches the kitchen, she is surprised to find Feyre, eyes clouded with sleep, hair poking out of the halfhearted braid she probably threw together before bed the previous night, holding a bottle to Nyx’s whimpering mouth.

“I think he’s starting to teethe. He’s been like this all night.” Feyre’s eyes flicker to Elain quickly before resting on her son’s mouth as it attaches to the bottle and then detaches with a small wail. Elain opens her arms, a silent request to take over – and make herself useful.

“I’ll take him, you go get some sleep.” She says gently, taking the babe into her arms. Feyre gives her a tired smile.

“Rhys and I are so lucky to have you here with us, El.”

Elain’s false smile returns to her features, and before she can give herself away, she shoos her sister out of the kitchen to take over as Nyx’s caregiver. She cradles her nephew to her, his chest to her own, rubbing circles on his back, between his little wings as she’s watched her sister and Rhys do time and time again. For a moment, the hole in her heart fills with the love she has for the babe in her arms. It doesn’t escape her, that if her life hadn’t so explicitly changed thanks to the betrayal that left her at the mercy of The Cauldron, she would probably have a babe of her very own by now. THAT thought doesn’t hurt as much as she thinks it should.

Because a child with Grayson would have been a monumental mistake.

The thought is gone as fast as it had come. That’s one part of her life that she is resolute in. Being Grayson’s wife, the mother to his brood, would NOT have been a step up from her current existence. She’s not sure how she knows that, perhaps from watching how Feyre and Nesta are treated by their mates. The unmatched adoration, the passion between the mates that she can sense from the couples as she plays the fifth wheel.

Why don’t I feel that way towards my own?

It’s not lost on her that she covets the bond her sisters have with their mates; what it must feel like knowing that your mate would give their very lives for your happiness. Her and her mate can barely be in the same room as each other, the bond an uncomfortable tether pulling at her rib.

She had once asked how it felt for her sisters, to see if the bond was true…

“It’s a blossoming warmth in my chest. The pull to Rhys is oftentimes so strong that I can't imagine my life before him.” Feyre had told her.

Her and her mate definitely could not relate.

But that warmth, she could have sworn she felt it before. When three fae males had walked into her home in the humanlands, and she had chanced a glance into the hazel eyes of the fae male with sapphire gems on his leathers. His gaze had caused her breath to catch, and every once in a while, when the war was over and she would be in his presence again, she would find herself looking into those eyes and she could almost feel the ghost of that warmth in her chest. Her breath would catch every time.

That hole was deep and chilled now.

The circles she’s been rubbing on her nephew’s back have quieted his little whimpers and he’s quiet on her chest as she moves to the window overlooking the gardens she’s cared for all these months. The gardens bloom in the vibrant colors of late spring. In her angst, she just wishes that the loveliness of the flowers she’s cultivated filled that hole in her chest that she so achingly wants to forget. An ache that, for the moment, her nephew in her arms has dulled significantly.

“Little one, you hold my heart in your hands.” She whispers as she kisses the thick black hair on his tiny head. At two months old, Nyx is the splitting image of his father, with Feyre’s temper to boot.

She sways back and forth, Nyx a solid presence, a weight holding her down to this earth. She almost misses the sound of the front door opening, but turns just in time to see the eyes of the male who still so captivated her thoughts.

No words are exchanged but he sends her a quick nod of acknowledgement as her own eyes quickly return to her nephew’s sleeping form. Her heart thundering in her empty chest. Before she can return her gaze to where the male stood, he is gone. Leaving her alone with that chasm in-between her ribs. The feeling of unworthiness crawling back into her thoughts.

He’s too good for me anyway.

She walks silently to the nursery, opting to place Nyx in his crib to attempt to get some breakfast prepared. She leaves the door slightly ajar, in case he awakens while she is cooking in the kitchen. Her fae hearing attuned to his little cries.

In the kitchen, she washes her hands and pulls out what is necessary for a quick meal. Bacon, eggs, some leftover scones from the pantry that she can reheat for her family to enjoy. She’s startled when Rhys and his companion walk briskly down the hall and through the foyer to the front door. Their voices quiet but unmistakable.

“All I need is 24 hours of rest and then I can head back down into the tunnels.” his deep tenor voice feels like a balm to her aching chest.

“Take the week, you look like you haven’t slept in months.” A pause and a sigh.

“I can always count on you for a confidence boost, Rhys.” She can feel the small smile gracing his lips as he speaks with his brother.

“I’m serious, Az. You’re no good to us if you’re dead on your feet. Take the week. Clean yourself up, eat a few hot meals, and sleep.” She wonders if this pause after Rhys speaks is meant to last as long as it does in her mind.

“Okay.” It’s breathless, and she can feel the exhaustion behind every syllable.

“Come to the kitchen. I’m sure Elain is whipping up something for breakfast. It’ll do you well to get something into your stomach.” She bites her lip at the invitation. He hasn’t had a meal in her presence in months, since before Nyx’s arrival, possibly not since Winter Solstice, but she’s unable to remember.

Elain straightens her spine, contemplating whether she should look in the pantry for some potatoes to add to her small spread. Her thoughts are interrupted by his forlorn response.

“I should really get back to the House of Wind, Nesta and Cassian are waiting for me.” An obvious lie and she feels like the remnants of her heart have turned liquid and puddled on the floor.

“Ask the House to make you something nice.” Rhys’ voice takes on a worried tone.

“I will.”

She holds back the tears threatening to spill as she hears his boots take him to the door and then outside. The heartbreak is still as tangible as it was months ago.

If Rhys notices the silver in her eyes when he strides into the kitchen, he doesn’t mention it. Just kisses her sweetly on the cheek and smiles,

“Good morning, Dear Sister.”

—————-

It’s a few nights later, while her family, sans Mor and Amren, sits at the dinner table eating the roast and potatoes she and the twins had been slow cooking over the course of the day, that Nesta looks at the empty chair across the table and says with worry gracing her normally icy gaze, “when are you going to start ordering Azriel to attend family dinners?”

Cassian places a hand on her knee as if to say NOT NOW.

She shrugs him off. Giving him that icy stare that’s become her calling card, “He’s a shell of himself. Even more closed off and broody than ever. He crawls around those tunnels and pokes his head out for a day or two and then heads right back in. The bags under his eyes are darker than yours” she points at Rhys. “And he doesn’t have a newborn to account for it.”

Elain sits up at that, heart sputtering as if she can feel him. As if she can feel the darkness pulling him under.

Maybe she can.

“I’m worried. Cassian is too; he’s just too stubborn to admit it. Az is working himself to death.” Elain puts a hand to her chest, as if that hand could hold her heart into place.

“Az is working very hard to get the answers we need about the Daglan and protect all of us, Nesta.” Feyre states gently, holding Nesta’s gaze as they narrow.

“But he shouldn’t HAVE to. We could rotate duties. We can go down there for a few days and let him rest.”

“This is what he wants, Nesta. He’s volunteered.” Rhys’ response is like an ash arrow to her gut.

“And why would he volunteer to do this assignment and be away from his family for so long if he was genuinely happy, Rhysand?” The room falls silent and the remnants of the meal she’s so thoughtfully made is ash on her tongue.

He’s not happy. That word, once vocalized, is hard for her to break from her thoughts. Azriel is unhappy.

It's her fault.

She grips the fork in her hand so tight the metal bends. It’s her fault because she read his intentions wrong on solstice. He is avoiding their family because she made things so awkward between them that he can’t bear to be in the same room as her. Nesta glances at her direction as if she can sense that feeling of worthlessness creeping into Elain’s body. Before Nesta can say anything, Cassian places his hand in hers.

“You’re right, Nes. We need to find out what’s going on with Az. I’ll ask Mor to visit him and get him to work through it. If anyone can get through to him, it’s Mor.”

And there was that feeling again. The feeling of a heart shattering, her lungs struggling to expand as her friends begin to plan for the intervention of the male who she so loved, even if he wanted nothing to do with her.

———————

Azriel was many things, within the last year or so, he’d resolved to adding foolish to his attributes. Foolish for thinking that he could be loved for the male he was, foolish for thinking he had any right to the happiness he saw in the faces of his brothers, and foolish to think that he could be hers.

It plagued him daily, the pull to a female that belonged to another. That he was not deemed worthy by the Cauldron of the female that held his heart, but that one of the sons of Autumn was.

She belongs to no one but herself. His shadows, his only companions, whisper.

It was a small mercy that she seemed as uninterested in her mate as her mate is with her. That she was once so willing to spend time with him despite being mated to someone else. That she was once happy to be his friend.

And now, they were nothing.

That thought buried deep inside of him, burrowed into his bones and tore through his limbs.

So he cut himself out of her world. He threw himself into his work. He trudged through the tunnels under the Night Court and pretended that he was keeping his family safe from the Daglan, when in reality, he was avoiding them.

It was another grueling pass through the tunnels. His eyes slowly adjusting from the change in light when he stepped out of the dark and into the quiet grasses surrounding the opening to the tunnels that have become his tomb. He had promised to wait a week to return to his work, but the ache in his chest had him packed and ready to continue his mission only 3 days after his last excursion. After a week of fighting through the tunnels, sliding Truthteller through the folds of the various beasts that inhabited the chasms below, his exhaustion was threatening to take his knees out from under him.

So he gathered what little strength he had left, and flew himself to the House of Wind.

And it was a mistake.

Nesta stood in the middle of the training pit, arms crossed. The rest of the priestesses were long gone by the early-afternoon. Precisely why he had chosen this time to fly back to the house, a feeble attempt to hide from everyone. He landed with a little less grace than intended, and as he took a glance at Nesta, he could have sworn that the silver flames that had been given back to The Cauldron to save her sister were still present in her eyes as she stared back at him disapprovingly.

“So you’re volunteering for these tunnel missions, huh?”

Azriel sighed. He learned long ago that arguing with Nesta was futile, that she would never let him go without a word.

“My schedule is open.” He shrugged absently.

“The hels it is, Az!” She bellowed, looking him up and down for a sign of…what exactly?

“Are you hurt?” She asked, this time with a gentleness not many would associate with the accomplished warrior, Lady Death.

“I’m fine.”

She continued to observe him, not completely believing he was all well and good. She noted his tired eyes, his rigid shoulders.

“What’s going on, Az? You’re like a ghost, never staying long enough to rest. Barely managing to function. This is so unlike you—-“ it pained him to interrupt, but the unworthiness creeped into his chest at her care for him.

“—this is me, Nes. It’s been me for 540 years. You’ve only glimpsed a small part of my life. I’ve always been like this.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” She says through her teeth, the frustration evident in her voice, in her posture. Azriel bows his head in a movement meant to placate the female before him. She sighs, and with a voice far calmer than she’s treated him with thus far speaks.

“She’s a ghost, too.”

He knows who she’s talking about immediately. And he dares not let her know that he’s affected by those words. He swallows the lump in his throat and moves to go around her. She stops him with her palm to his chest, right where his heart should be.

“I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but I know that the last time I’ve seen her smile, her real smile, was when you were the one to put it on her face.” The hole in his chest is infinitely bigger as Nesta moves her hand and places it gently on his arm.

“Be present, Az. We love you. She—loves you.”

Az is sure that Nesta means he is loved in a friendly way, but the idea of being loved by Elain Archeron makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He nods his head, words failing him.

“Everyone is coming here for dinner tonight.” Nesta states firmly. “Get cleaned up and meet us in the dining room at 5.” She shuffles past him to reach the door to the house and smiles mischievously at him behind her.

There’s no hiding from them now. Nesta will hunt him down until he appears. So he plans to arrive for dinner even as his brain tells him to run.

——————

Elain stares at her sister as she repeats the itinerary for the day, eyes wide as she questions Feyre over the plan to “meet Nesta and Cassian at the House for dinner.”

Elain is confused. Never has Nesta invited them to the House for dinner. Tea, on occasion. Training, frequently. Never dinner.

“What’s the occasion?” She asks, trying not to let her nerves show.

“She just misses us.” Feyre smiles, and although Elain is suspicious, she gives her little sister a genuine smile.

“Sounds delightful.”

And if her nerves intensify as her sister’s mate puts her down gently on the balcony of the House of Wind a few hours later, she doesn’t let it show, because she can absolutely scent the one person she is anxious to see the most.

Azriel is here.

And it takes all of her mother’s etiquette training to hold her head up high and enter the dining room to see his gorgeous, but somber face. A face she’s conflicted to commit to memory. He looks so tired, she muses. And despite the ache in her chest, the unworthiness that her mind flashes into her skull, seeing him is like breathing air after drowning, and she can’t look away.

Dinner commences and for the first time in months, the smile on her face is real. Everyone she loves is at the table, Mor and Feyre chatting animatedly with each other. Amren, Rhys, and Varian are lost in their own conversation about the Summer Court. Elain chances a look at the glorious Shadowsinger across from her. He’s impressive as usual, but she notes that his shadows are moving lithe around him, as if they are also exhausted from his travels. His eyes meet hers, and that warmth in her chest that only he can provide blossoms under his gaze. And she smiles, for real, and she thinks she sees the corner of his own mouth move up slightly.

It’s only when the meal is done and the House takes the dishes away that Rhys and Feyre take Nyx home to bed. Amren and Varian go back to Amren’s apartment, and Azriel excuses himself to finally get some rest. The rest of the family moves to the sitting room to continue to chat and Elain sits with them, appearing to listen to their conversation, but barely hearing what is being said. Her thoughts are helplessly on the male asleep somewhere in this house.

“Elain, would you like to stay here tonight?” Nesta asks with a beautiful smile on her face that captures Elain’s attention. She points a finger at her mate and says, “It’s easier for this old man to fly in the daytime. His eyesight is going poorly, and Mor is too drunk to take herself home, let alone you.” Nesta nods her head towards the beautiful blonde already falling asleep on the sofa across from her. Cassian scoffs.

“539 is NOT old.” He crows indignantly. The sisters erupt into laughter but Elain can’t help but think that her sister is only asking for her to stay because it’ll make things easier, and not because she wants her there. As the others begin to move towards their bedrooms, Nesta stops Elain with a gentle hand on her arm.

“I know I haven’t been the kind of sister you deserve, Elain. I want to make that up to you. I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow. I want to sit and talk to you about your life. I want to show you that I’m trying, that I’m here for you.” Elain’s chest expands with hope and a love she can only have for Nesta.

“I would like that very much.” She smiles. And Nesta offers to show her her bedroom for the night. The two walk arm in arm as they move through the house until they come upon the door of a room at the far end of the hallway. The room she’s given is warm and inviting, with a giant bed covered in lilac sheets. There’s a fireplace in the corner that is not in use due to the late spring warmth, but the double doors opening to the balcony overlooking Velaris is the crowning feature. She bids Nesta goodnight, with a promise to meet in the dining room for breakfast, and immediately heads for the balcony after Nesta shuts the bedroom door behind her.

What Elain doesn’t expect, is to end up sharing a balcony with the Shadowsinger himself.

And it appears he’s just as surprised as she is.

“H—hi” she breathes. Taking in his tall form in the shadows of the night. He’s seated on the edge of the balcony’s railing, one leg hanging over the edge while the knee of his other leg is bent for balance on the railing. His glorious wings are tight against his back, the bottoms on either side of the balcony. His hazel eyes, the ones that torment her in her dreams, are wide.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know you— or anyone, would be here—on the balcony, I mean.” She stammers as she looks down at her feet in embarrassment. He’s still quiet in front of her, and she curses the fact that the Cauldron didn’t boil her alive when it had the chance.

“I—I’ll just go…” she says and begins to move. She’s vaguely aware of him sitting up straighter than before.

“No, please— don’t.” His deep voice is a whisper that her fae ears only hear because she’s desperate to hear his voice again. She wouldn’t miss his first words to her in months for anything in this world. She swallows, unsure of how to proceed. Any courage she might have deep within her, sputtering.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He says louder, with conviction, and that hole in her chest feels the fullest it’s been in months.

“I don’t want to leave, either.” She says confidently. Her courage soars with the vibrancy of his words.

“I miss you.” He adds gently, finally meeting her gaze, and she’s at a loss. This male who has captivated her body and spirit for years now. Whom she thought was angry with her. Who walked away from her on solstice and didn’t look back.

“Then why?” She whispers back, a silver tear escaping and trailing down her pale cheek. The question is open ended, but he knows what she means.

“Because I am unworthy of you.” He admits. The self loathing in his voice matches her own every time she thinks about him.

“Of course you are. If anything, I am unworthy of you.”

“Never.” He replies instantly, but she waves him off. Moving to his side, eyes peering at his form under the stars, tears falling down both cheeks now.

“You are kind, Azriel. You are gentle, and you are courageous. You’ve fought on the battlefield, and you protect the people of this court, of this family. I bake bread, watch Nyx, and plant seeds in the garden. You deserve so much more than I can offer you.”

The air between them crackles with the intensity of his gaze. He moves, and before she can loose a breath, his scarred hands are wiping the tears from her skin.

“How can you not see how incredible you are, Elain?” He speaks softly, rubbing his fingers back and forth over her cheeks. “You put the needs of others in front of your own. You bake bread, watch Nyx, and build gardens to bring comfort and beauty to those around you. In a world of war and bloodshed, you are reminder that there are things out there so beautiful it’s worth fighting for.” She gasps at the depth of his stare. “You are everything I could ever hope for, but I can’t have you.” The words he’s spoken break something within her. Her hands land on his own on her cheeks, and she uses them to push his away, to push him away. Confusion gracing her features.

“And why can’t you have me? Why have you shut me out all of these months?”

He thinks carefully at how to respond. It’s in his best interest to lie, the rage in her beautiful brown eyes cuts him further than any blade and he pauses for a moment.

Rhys will mist him for revealing the truth. He’s disobeying his order right now, just being alone with the female that possesses his heart and soul. But he finds that lying to her is impossible. That he would rather be misted than lie to the female before him.

“Because I have been ordered to stay away from you.” He says with deep remorse.

The earth ceases to rotate for Elain. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She stares in horror and Azriel wonders if he’s made a grave mistake.

“Rhys?” She whispers. He nods.

“But—why?” The devastation in her voice is palpable, and he wants nothing more than to fly to the river house, despite his exhaustion, and hit his brother in his pretty face.

“You have a mate, Elain.” She scoffs. Ready to deny such a thing. He weighs his words carefully before he continues. “Our—involvement could have severe consequences for the Night Court.”

“What consequences?” She asks, in an eerily calm voice that he doesn’t recognize. He takes a deep breath and prepares himself for her ire.

“The Autumn Court has an archaic tradition that allows for a mate to call for a blood duel against any male that threatens his mating bond. Lucien or Beron have the right to challenge me to that blood duel if you and I—“

Elain looks up into his eyes, horrified at the realization that this is what is keeping them apart.

“—but I would fight for you. Rhys knows it. And I would win, because there would be no chance in this lifetime that I would give up a life with you if I had the choice. But if I were to kill Lucien in a blood duel—“ he pauses. “Beron can enact revenge by calling for war against the Night Court.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Her chest, that was finally full only recently, is hollowed out and bleeding down to her toes. Rhys has deemed them unworthy of each other. Have deemed them unworthy of his protection. Unworthy of the Night Court’s protection. She steps forward, so that her breath mixes with his. He’s stunned for a moment, peering down into her face, determination and understanding amongst the many emotions crossing her features.

“I would rather have you in secret, than not at all.” She says so quietly that only the two of them can hear and places her hand on his chest where his heart beats against it. He’s dumbfounded for a moment.

She’s choosing him?

“Are you sure?” He whispers just as quietly, so that only her and the Mother can hear him.

“Yes.”

The word is barely out of her mouth when his lips meet hers in a kiss that stops the world around them. It’s soft and gentle, just like they are, but Elain swears that this feeling in her chest, at finally tasting the male of her dreams, is the same one her sisters have so lovingly described about their mates.

How can this not be it? They both muse to themselves.

His lips move slowly against her own, savoring her taste, committing it to memory. She has chosen him. She is willing to risk war and their family’s loyalty for him. He will never understand why, but he’s too far gone to talk her out of it.

They stay on the balcony until the early morning hours, touching, tasting, and chasing away the demon of unworthiness inside of each other. Because even if their family or the Night Court didn’t need them, they found out that night that they needed each other.

Fin (or is it?)

[fourmoony]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter Two

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: Language, mentions of violence, sour sibling relationships, overbearing parents, mention of car crash and scars.

ITN: The Masterlist

James

One of James’ earliest memories is of the rink, back home. It’s not exactly a clear memory. There was lots of falling, a plastic penguin almost the size of him, and Sirius Black. His first day at kiddie-skate. Even though he’d spent more time on his ass than skating, it’s a memory James will always cherish. Even if it blurs, slightly, as time goes on. Because it’s the day he met Sirius. At five years old, James had no idea that the lanky, smart as a whip kid who somehow managed to both stumble across the ice and act like he owned it at the same time, was going to be one of the most important people in his life. Sirius is James’ soulmate. His best friend. There isn’t a day where James isn’t grateful for Sirius Black stumbling into his life; wild and untamed.

Except, maybe, today.

The rink at Hogwarts is a place James always feels at home. The smell of Zamboni fuel and the rubber mats meant to protect skate blades. The banging of lockers and the whir of the air conditioning that keeps the ice cool. It’s a small area of campus where James can go when he feels too much. Too overwhelmed, too sad, too anxious. A safe place. Even training is a relief to James. A time in which he’s allocated to turn his brain off, become captain and lead his team. He focusses on plays and makes mental notes on what to work on with the guys. During games he’s focussed on one thing: winning.

But today. Today, Hogwarts Arena is the very source of James’ anxiety, of the weight in his chest that just keeps pressing. It’s not that he’s scared of the rink. Or even of you. But the idea of being in charge of twelve miniature humans whilst knowing in the back of his mind that you’d rather be literally anywhere else is a pretty decent source of anxiety. The last thing James wants to do is make you uncomfortable in an environment that you love so much. You’ve coached mini skate since you were a sophomore. You once told James that it felt like your purpose. To fill the world with as many accomplished skaters as possible. Be a role-model. A guiding light. Someone they could look back at and think I’m glad I had a coach like her. A motivator. A kind soul.

You’re setting cones out on the ice when James takes a seat on the team bench to put his skates on. The kids are down by the tunnel, if the noise that flows from it is anything to go by. James finds himself staring as you skate. You do it with such ease that it reminds him hockey isn’t the only on-ice sport. You’ve trained your entire life to get to the level you’re at, today. He knows you’re going for Nationals again, this year, refuses to allow himself to think about last year. You deserve better of him than to have him distracted by that whilst co-coaching. He knows how that spiral goes. Spent all of his summer thinking about you, about the physical therapy you’d be enduring, the anger you’d have been feeling. Shame washes over him, hot and fast.

He ties his skates tighter than they probably need to be and joins you on the ice. Your head turns at the sound of his blades against the ice, fresh pressed by the Zamboni, after your training session with Pince, probably. You’re still wearing your training clothes, likely haven’t left the rink to get food between practice and mini skate. James makes a mental note to bring you something, next week.

“You’re late.” You call across the ice. You set another cone down, skate towards the next location.

James weaves in and out of the cones you’ve set out with ease, gaining on you without trying. “My Econ class ran long. Flitwick sent you an email.”

Your ponytail swishes when you turn to drop the next cone, feet crossing in a way James imagines is only capable because of your toe picks. If he tried a move like that in his blunt rounded hockey skates, he’d land on his face. With the final cone in your hand, you skate backwards, eyes on James. “Literally the last thing I said to you was ‘be on time’, James.” You sigh.

James smiles, “Actually, I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘You’re sorry that you feel like shit’.”

Your eyebrows hook in the middle when they furrow. James knows he has no right to chide you or try to joke with you, but he wants this to be painless. He hurt you, he knows that. He done a lot of stupid shit, things he can’t take back, even if he wishes he could. But he never thought you’d want to act like strangers, like two people who can’t hold a civil conversation. In his opinion, there’s too much history there, for that.

“The kids will be out any minute. We’re going over control. You take half, I take half.” You nod your head to the pile of cones on the other side of the rink.

James nods. “Sure thing.” He gets to work on setting up his cones before the kids come out of the tunnel.

The majority of kiddie-skate passes in a flurry of tiny skates torpedoing around James. He tries to keep up, tries not to come across as stern, even when all six of the kids under his leadership would rather race each other across the span of the ice. They remind him of he and Sirius, at that age. Causing trouble everywhere they went, consequences be damned. It’s exhausting, but nowhere near as awkward as he thought it might be. You dutifully keep your kids to your side of the ice, well behaved and skating in neat circles around their cones. James finds himself wondering if you gave him the wild bunch as a punishment. By the end of the session, James finds himself giving in and racing seven-year-old Michael from one net to the other. He considers letting him win but decides against it when he sees the determination on Michael’s face, the sure-fire way he glides on his skates. He’s fast; has potential. That shouldn’t be coddled. It should be nurtured, turned into motivation to try harder, next time. Because, next time, when he does try harder, he might just win. Until he’s playing at division one level.

James is sure that’ll be true, one day.

The parents mill around by the exit doors at the far end of the ice, ten minutes before the session ends. James can’t quite believe how fast the time has gone. You call him and his group of kids over to the middle of the ice, skidding to a stop on the edge of your skates. Dutifully, James directs his kids towards you. “Let’s go, team. The boss wants us over here.”

If you hear him, you don’t say anything. Instead, you direct James to stand next to you, arms crossed over your chest. “What did we learn, today?” You ask.

“Control.”

You nod, smile kind and patient. “That control is a key part in skating. Whether it be hockey or figure skating. If you can’t control your weight, your speed, your skates? Pshh,” You scoff, dramatically, “Game over, guys. You’re out.”

There’s amusement in your voice, despite the importance of what you’re saying. James finds it admirable, your ability to connect with the kids. You could connect with anyone, anywhere, though. It’s the kind of person you are. Patient, kind. Undeserving of all the bullshit James has brought into your life since you met him.

“Did you lose control when you broke your ankle?” One of the kids asks. A younger girl, a sparkly pink helmet sitting squint on her head. There’s no malice, just that childlike innocence that brings about curiosity.

The question shocks you, regardless. Your lips press into a thin line, eyes a little distant. James wonders if he should step in, cover for you. Change the subject, somehow.

“No, Kayla,” You fix your face, a sort of wistful look that James can’t figure out. “No, I lost focus.”

James feels his heart sink. Two nights before you left for Nationals, James dropped an irreversible bomb on you. It broke your heart, tore your relationship apart. Then, he sent you off to Nationals with a head full of his bullshit and watched you break your ankle in front of the entire country. Because he distracted you. He broke your focus. Took away the gold medal that had your name written on it.

The guilt keeps him awake at night. More so than the ache of missing you. Because he does. He misses everything about you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re focussing. He even misses your grumpiness when trying, and failing, to nail a new routine. He misses holding you, kissing you, telling you that he loves you.

But the guilt, the shame. The reality of what he did. It plays on a loop in his head, eats him alive. He’s trying not to drown in it as he watches you dismiss the kids, waving to parents as you skate them to the door. James just stands there, in the middle of the ice. Unsure of how to act. Unsure of what to do, if he should go, if he should stay and try to talk to you. He settles for skating to the team bench, a carved-out box halfway up the side boards. He sits down on the bench, bends down to untie his skates.

The door clicks shut behind you a moment later, a whoosh of cold air and the scent of your perfume as your skates skid to a stop outside the box, beforehand. James looks up as you cross past him, sitting on the opposite end of the bench. You follow his lead, untying your skates in silence. He puts his guards on, places them in his bag. Puts his shoes on. All the while suffocating in the silence.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You tell James. Your voice is quiet, so soft, like maybe you’re not sure you want him to hear you. Your eyes don’t leave your socked feet, hands folded in your lap.

James focusses on putting his shoes on. Doesn’t look at you. “You were right, you know.”

He catches the way your face scrunches, the sadness there. You won’t appreciate his comfort, so he doesn’t give you it. Instead, he stands, slings his bag over his shoulder. His hand itches to reach out and touch you, to tell you that he’s sorry. He wishes he could change everything, could take it all back. “I do feel like shit. But that’s not why I’m sorry.”

Your head tilts up. Your eyes are filled with tears and James can’t stomach it. He hates himself. You look so sad and tired. “See you on Sunday.” He nods and books it out of the team box, along the corridor, the foyer, and into the carpark.

He climbs into his truck, lets the shame swallow him whole, lets the pain burn him. And there, in private, alone, he breaks. He loathes himself for it. He has no right, no reason to be so sad, so solemn. He took everything from you. Yet he still breaks, anyway.

James doesn’t know how much more he can take before he can’t put himself back together, anymore.

Sirius

The Hogwarts Library is Sirius’ least likely haunt. He, honestly, avoids it at all costs. Unless he’s trying to find Lily. Even then, he tends to only stay for ten minutes, or so. It’s not that he hates studying. He actually enjoys his classes, finds the work stimulating for his overactive brain. He’s smart. That’s not to be doubted, even if he acts like an idiot ninety-nine percent of the time. The reason he hates the library so much is because it reminds him of the one at Grimmauld Place.

Hogwarts library is brighter, in fairness. But the high ceilings, regal architecture, the smell of old books and the eerie quiet. It’s all too similar to the library in his childhood home. It makes his skin crawl, the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. He’s guarded, like he always was at home. A place where it was do or die, fight to survive. Libraries are supposed to be a peaceful place. A place of childlike wonderment, a place where you can get lost in stories of knights in shining armour, passionate love. His opinion of libraries is that it’s a place one would go to get the shit kicked out of them at a dinner party for being too smart tongued. He remembers that all too well. Hates that particular story.

The girl at the front desk smiles kindly at him, but all he sees is a vulture waiting to pick him off, trap him here and make him relive his worst memories over and over. He grimaces, places his hands on the cold wood of the desk and begs it to ground him. Sirius forces a breath as he rolls his shoulders.

“I’m here for community service? There’s a kid writing a paper or something.” His words are breathy, unsure, gritted out through unwilling teeth. He hates this. Hates it with his entire being.

The blonde girl smiles, likely a little awe struck at the sight of a hockey player in the library. As far as Sirius knows, none of them use the library. Half of the team prefer to study at home, and half of them could give less of a shit about their degrees. “Uh, sure, Sirius, right?” She asks, prucking around the desk for a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Astrology is on the third floor. He’ll be waiting at the main desk for you.”

Sirius nods, thanks the girl and heads towards the stairs. He climbs them two at a time, skin itching with anticipation. He really hopes whoever he’s stuck with for the foreseeable future isn’t an overachieving dick. The signs for the astrology section of Hogwarts library point to the right, Sirius follows them all the way to the main desk in the centre of the floor. All of the shelves surround it in a circle, little stars and flecks of paint on the edge of each bookcase. In the centre of the circle sits a circle table, scattered with open books, papers, drawings of constellations.

Sirius tries not to think too hard about the irony of being landed with an astronomy student. He might hate everything about his family, but he loves the stars. Loves his namesake.

There’s no one at the desk, their things left abandoned. Sirius tries not to be nosey but fails. The closest thing to him are drawings, mappings of planets and stars. Hand drawn; with such painstaking detail he finds himself in awe of it. He sets it down, moves on to the next piece of paper, covered in barely legible ramblings about the importance of planet distance, star mapping, it’s barely congeable.

“Did no one ever teach you not to touch what’s not yours?”

Sirius freezes, blood draining from his entire body. The ice cold, baritone voice. Sirius hears it in his nightmares. It claws at the darkest parts of him. His hands shake as he turns; face to face with a more polished carbon copy of himself. Regulus Black is two years younger than Sirius, and yet he looks almost a decade older. He looks positively regal in his ironed clothes, with his perfectly tamed hair and clean-shaven face. Even his shoes don’t have a single scuff on them. It’s not lost on Sirius, the idea that this could have been him. He was supposed to be the heir, the brother with his shit together.

Regulus scowls at Sirius, reaches forwards to rip the paper from his trembling hands. His brain refuses to work, bile rises in his throat. He’s going to kill Moody.

There are memories, there. Playing somewhere in the back of his head. Childlike voices talking in hushed tones, screaming, fighting, hateful words, laughing, crying. He and Regulus were once as close as brothers could be. He hates that Regulus now looks at him with disgust. But refuses to let him win.

“Only thing my parents taught me was to hit fast and hard, watch your enemies wither and die.” Sirius scoffs, hands stuffed in his pockets. He will not allow Regulus to see him rattled. “Of course, they treated their own children like enemies.”

It’s Regulus’ turn to scoff. Even his scoff is prim and proper. He rounds the table and takes a seat, like a king in his throne. Sirius supposes he is. Everything in the Black family dynasty will be his in a few years. Everything Sirius didn’t want. Everything Regulus didn’t want. Not until he didn’t have a choice. “You wanted for nothing.” Regulus quips.

Sirius’ blood burns with the statement. He sounds exactly like their mother. Cruel, evil. Willing to overlook the darkness of her own soul because it got her what she wanted. Money and power. “Spoken like a true Black, Reggie. Congratulations.”

Regulus’ smile is nothing short of bitter. He knows the insult that lies in there, but he shrugs it off as easy as picking a piece of lint from his pure cotton shirt.

“I need all of the books from section A to B noted. Titles, author, date of publication. Alphabetised.” Regulus levels Sirius with a bored look and he balks.

His younger brother, acting like Sirius is beneath him. He shrugs, “Better get to work then, Reggie. Might take you a while.”

“You’re the one on community service for acting like a rabid animal.” Regulus shrugs.

“Yeah, I’ll take the suspension. This shit isn’t gonna happen.”

Regulus chuckles and Sirius can already picture it. His younger brother, sweet, kind, sensitive Reggie. Turned into a fortune five hundred shark, belittling his staff because he can. Just like their father. “Sure. Throw away your hockey career, Sirius. But the Black family won’t be there to welcome you back when you blow your trust fund.”

Sirius’ jaw ticks. Hockey is his life. The Cannon’s won’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, draft or no draft, if he doesn’t touch the ice this season.

“You’re just like him, you know.” Sirius spits. He doesn’t miss the way Regulus’ face hardens; a little shame mixed in there somewhere. They’re too similar, in some ways. Sirius knows exactly where to press where it hurts. 

Regulus hands him a notepad. “A to B.”

“Better get out before you end up like her, too, Reggie. That shit’s irreversible.” Sirius tells him, disappointed in himself for even saying it. It feels like acid on his tongue. He turns and goes to find section A. Doesn’t look back to see the fear on his younger brother’s face.

Remus

Thursday evenings are Remus’ least favourite. There’s no practice to keep his mind occupied, the gym is closed for deep cleaning, there’s nothing for him to occupy himself with, except his weekly call with his parents. He’s longed for an excuse to cancel a million times over. It never comes. A punishment, Remus thinks, for something he did in a past life. He loves his parents. They can be overbearing, intense, but they care. That’s a lot more than some people have.

But they don’t get him. His father, more so, than his mother. Hope Lupin is kind and understanding. If Remus told her he wanted to sack it all in and become a shark wrestler, tomorrow, she’d buy him a shark keyring and do as much research as it took to help him on his way. But Lyall Lupin? Five-time Stanley Cup Winner, top player in the NHL for years, retired, hardass hockey player? He’d strangle his only son with his bare hands. All he ever does is push. He pushes and pushes and refuses to see Remus’ health as an issue.

It’s exhausting. Sometimes, Remus just wants to be told to slow down. As much as he’d hate to (he has goals, things he wants to do, his illness won’t stop him). It would still be nice to not have so much pressure on him all of the time.

The call connects with a heavy sense of dread. Hope and Lyall are in their living room, a large canvass of Remus with his first ever hockey trophy hung proudly behind him. That was before the crash, before the scars and brittle bones. Back when the world was his for the taking. Remus hates that photo.

“Hi, love.” Hope beams, cheeks appled out in a smile.

Remus looks most like his mum. Right down to the sandy brown hair, fluffy and unruly. Except he has his father’s nose. The nose that his least favourite scar slashes jaggedly across. He avoids looking at the square with his face on it. Instead, he focusses on the look on his father’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks, nerves on edge.

Lyall Lupin, to the media, to people who don’t know him, is an unreadable man. Remus can read him like a book. His face might portray as impassive, but he’s furious. About what, Remus has no fucking idea. It’s always something.

“Nothing, love.” Hope tries to shake it off.

“You were a little heavy on your left skate last game, no?” Lyall grits out.

Remus almost laughs. Like, full on belly laughs. Disbelief washes over him, hot and furious, his blood burning. “I played first and second line because Kennedy bust his shoulder over the summer. You remember I have a bad knee, right?” Remus scoffs, eyebrows raised.

He sees the way his mother eyes his scars, the way they pale with the stretch. She looks sad, remorseful. He relaxes his face, shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Of course, we do, Rem.”

“You think the Wasps will be impressed with that performance? So early in the season, too.” Lyall scoffs, waving a dismissive hand at Remus.

Sometimes Remus thinks his parents see right through him. Sometimes, he wants to scream that he’s right there. That they almost lost him altogether and anything he does now should be a fucking bonus. That he’s sick of never being good enough. That his father should be grateful Remus is even still physically able to get on the ice.

Instead, he swallows the anger and sighs. “Holme gave me some new physio exercises. It’ll be better next time.”

His father nods. “Good.”

“Is that all, then?” Remus asks shortly.

“How was your week?” Hope asks, at the same time Lyall lets out a stern, cold, “Yes.”

She frowns at her husband, who blatantly ignores her. It raises a feral beast in Remus. A wolf howling. He wants to tell his father to respect his wife, to appreciate all she does for him. But he knows Hope hates when he does that. So, he scoffs, hangs up, and slams his laptop closed. He’s exhausted after a mere five-minute phone call, wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with a book and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

But Sirius stands in his doorway, a sympathetic look on his face. Remus hates it. Hates when Sirius treats him like something fragile, something that can be easily broken. While it may be physically accurate, it will take a lot more effort from Lyall Lupin to break Remus mentally.

“He was in top form.” Sirius murmurs.

Remus nods, runs his hands across his face. The raised bumps of his scars irritates him, so he drops his hands to his lap. “How was community service?”

Sirius shrugs. “The kid writing the paper?”

Remus hums.

“Regulus.”

“Shit. Sorry, Pads.” Remus offers, hand itching to reach out and intertwine with Sirius’. A comforting touch for both of them. He doesn’t.

Just follows Sirius across the room with his eyes as he approaches Remus’ neatly made bed and climbs in. Remus sighs. He’s not sure he has the energy for whatever game Sirius is playing. He can barely keep up anymore. They’re toeing the line between best friends and something else, and while Remus enjoys it, sometimes, he doesn’t think he can stomach it tonight.

But Sirius pushes the display pillows off the side, pulls back the covers for Remus and he finds he can’t resist.

Sirius smells like old books with a touch of cinnamon. He curls into Remus’ side with ease, muscles relaxing until he’s lax in his arms. He feels himself relaxing, too.

“I miss him.” Sirius whispers, voice broken.

Remus presses his lips to Sirius’ hair. “I know.”

“He hates me.”

His chest constricts. Remus knows how much Sirius regrets leaving Regulus. It weighs on him, is probably a large part of why he refuses to take responsibility for anything, ever. He wishes he could make it better for Sirius. “He hates that you got out.”

“I hate myself for not dragging him with me.” Sirius says.

His grip tightens on Remus, his head pushing further into Remus’ neck.

“He’ll forgive you. If you tell him.”

Sirius doesn’t say anything. His breathing slows, Remus feels his eyelashes flutter against his neck. Asleep. Out cold.

He presses one last kiss to Sirius’ hair, pushes all of the thoughts out of his head, and follows suit.

[tikosblogg]

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

[alotofpockets]

Mother's Day surprise | Caitlin Foord x Reader

Where you use Mother's Day as a disguise for a different kind of surprise

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.3k

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“Hey baby,” You greet your girlfriend in the bathroom, while hugging her from behind. She was getting ready for an Arsenal morning training session. After placing a few soft kisses onto her shoulder you continue your sentence, “I’m off to run some errands, do you need something from the store?” 

Caitlin turns around in your hold,  “Could you get some more of those protein bars you got last time?” You smile and nod, feeling accomplished on finding something new that your girlfriend loves. She pecks your lips and puts her arms around your shoulders, bringing you in for a hug. 

“Oh, and don’t forget our Mother’s Day facetime call with my mom at two!” She says as you step out into the hallway. “I’ll be there. I should be back home before you are.”

You make a quick stop at the grocery store to get Caitlin the protein bars she asked for, before you drive to the airport. Technically you were running errands, so you didn’t lie, it’s just that the errand was to pick up her mom, sister, and her sister’s fiancée from the airport. 

Jamie notices you first, and runs up to hug you. “It’s been too long!” Renae is close behind and joins in on the hug. Lastly Simone arrives by your side, she goes in for a big hug as well. “Thank you so much for flying us out here, it really means the world, darling.” 

When everyone’s baggage is in your trunk and the Foord family is situated in your car, you make the drive back to your home. “So, how is my future daughter in law doing?” Simone asks you from the passenger seat. “Simone, you know she has to say yes first, right?” You chuckle. “I do, but Cait would be a fool to say no.” 

The rest of the drive you catch up with your girlfriend’s family. Back at your home they all plop down on the couch, exhausted from the long flight. You get everyone something to drink, but they are way more interested to see the ring you had picked out. Jamie had helped you pick it out, but she thought it was even more beautiful in person. 

When you hear Caitlin’s car pull up, you quickly hide the box, and walk towards the door. “Hi love, I missed you.” She says and immediately falls into your arms. “Hi baby, I missed you too.” You peck her lips and close the door behind her. “Can you close your eyes? I have a surprise for you.” 

She closes her eyes and lets you guide her to the living room. “What is it? Did you find me another flavour of those delicious bars?” She was really too pure for this world, the little things meant so much to Caitlin. “I think you’ll like this better than a protein bar, baby. Open your eyes and see for yourself.” 

Caitlin opens her eyes, and her mouth falls open in shock at the surprise in front of her. “Wait, what? What are you guys doing here?” She stares at the trio in front of her, overcome by emotions she runs into her mom’s arms with teary eyes. 

“Y/n flew us out here for Mother’s Day.” After hugging both Jamie and Renae as well, Caitlin turns to you. “Thank you so much, you are the best. This is so amazing.”

You hang out with her family in the living room for a bit longer while Caitlin takes a quick shower, before you’d all head over to a nearby restaurant for lunch. 

After lunch you suggest going for a stroll around town, having the travelling trio as an excuse to hide behind. With them having sat in a plane for so long, and then making them sit in a restaurant, giving them the opportunity to stretch their legs seemed logical. 

Caitlin had no idea you were leading everyone towards the spot you were planning to propose to her. The spot you had gone to every couple of days for the past few months. The spot you had arranged for a professional photographer to meet you at. The sport where you would ask one of the most important questions of your life. 

You grew more nervous by the minute, as you walked up the path you had walked so many times recently. Caitlin was too busy into conversation to notice your nerves, but Jamie noticed and walked in step with you. Jamie knew exactly how you felt, having experienced the same nerves that you were feeling when she proposed to Renae. She puts her arm around your shoulder and gives you a quick squeeze, “You’ve got this.” She whispered into your ear.

One more corner and there would be a lookout spot over the pond you were walking past. You relaxed a bit, when you saw that there were no people at the look out spot currently. You apparently knew your girlfriend better than you thought you did, ‘cause when Caitlin’s eyes fell on the lookout she instantly dropped the conversation with her mom and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards it. “This is such a pretty spot! Jamie, can you please take our picture?” Instead of taking a picture, Jamie started filming, aware of the photographer hidden away. 

“You should do one where you’re looking out over the pond, it would be so cute.” Renae suggested, winking your way when Caitlin had turned around. This was it, this was the moment. You look out over the pond together, but after a few seconds you turn towards Caitlin, and get down on one knee. The box taken out of your pocket seconds ago, now open towards her, waiting for her to notice. 

Your heart was beating a million miles an hour, as Caitlin turned your way. The moment she realises what is happening, she gets teary eyes. “Caitlin Jade Foord, you are an incredible person, and you have been my rock over the years. I love you so much, and I cannot see my future without you in it. Will you make me the happiest girl in the world and marry me?” 

Cailtin started nodding her head midway through your sentence and once you finished your question she voiced the answer that went along with her head movements. “Yes! A thousand times yes!” 

After putting the ring on her finger, she pulls you up and brings you in for a hug. You were living in your own world, not even having noticed Jamie stepping to the side, and the cameraman moving forward. Together they captured every moment. From the proposal itself, to breaking apart from the hug, to sharing a kiss, to Caitlin properly looking at the ring for the first time. 

She turns around to her family with a big smile on her face. “Wait, they knew. You flew them in for this, didn’t you?” You nod, “I mean I would’ve flown them in just for Mother’s Day too, but I know how much you love your family, and I didn’t want them to miss this.” Caitlin hugs you again, before pulling you towards them.

You share some hugs with them while they congratulate the both of you, before you take a few more engagement pictures showing off the ring.

It’s crazy to think that Caitlin was your fiancée now. You couldn’t stop looking at the ring for the rest of the walk back home. The rest of the day was filled with joy and happiness, together with your fiancée and her family. 

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caitlinfoord and y/n_y/l/n posted

caitlinfoord: I still can't believe this is real. So ready to marry you, and spend the rest of our lives together💍❤️

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[jamdoughnutmagician]

Sugar, Pretty Baby...

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary:After a successful date at the movies, Eddie takes you back to his trailer where things take an unexpected, but not unwelcome turn I suck at summaries oh my goddd 

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Making Out, Thigh Riding, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Missionary Position, Declarations of Love, If i’m missing anything feel free to shoot me a message so I can tag it.

Word Count:2,117 (oops, this one runs a little long I hope you don’t mind)

Authour’s Note: This is sort of a part 2 to From Me to You but you don’t necessarily have to read that to follow this. I was inspired/gently encouraged by @billybluboy to write a part 2 that was absolutely filthy and I think I accomplished that. 

Masterlist

True to his word, Eddie picked you up at 7pm on the dot, ready for your movie date. He was a true gentleman through and through, although you already knew that. Holding your hand, and intertwining his fingers with yours, swinging your joined hands between the two of you whilst you walked.

And now after watching the movie, you were sitting in his van as he drove you back to his trailer.

"I had a great time today, thank you for agreeing to go out with me” he chuckles nervously.

“I had a great time too, Ed” you beam back at him.

He gets out his van and quickly rushes around to the passenger’s seat door to open it for you.

“Ever the gentleman..” you giggle as you make your way out of his van.

Taking your hand in his, he leads you to his trailer.

“Wayne’s working nights, so it’s just us tonight.” He says, pushing through the door.

“Oh, really?” you say with a hopeful look in your eyes “Just us?”

“Yup..nobody else around..just me..and you” he says lowly his brown eyes flicking down to your lips.

Taking your opportunity, you lean up,with your hands tenderly holding his face, and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. His lips are chapped and taste slightly sweet, a reminder of the popcorn you’d shared on your date.

“I’d been wanting to do that all evening” you admit shyly.

His lips are back on your in an instant, one of his large hands splayed holding your hips, the other cupping your cheek to bring you closer to him. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, before slipping in and deepening the kiss, desperate to taste you.

He walks you back to the couch in the living room, before sitting down. You take the initiative to straddle his spread thighs, and continue to kiss him. Your lips are eager to be on back on his. Your kisses begin to trail their way from his lips down, burying your head in the crook of his neck whilst your lips work to leave open-mouthed kisses on the exposed skin, and suck claiming bruises on his throat.

Feeling you leave hickeys on his neck gave Eddie a strange sense of pride. He was always going to be yours, no questions asked, but now he had a reminder of how much he meant to you.

Whilst he indulged you in your quest to suck dark bruises into his skin, Eddie had his own ideas. His large ring-adorned fingers found themselves shamelessly gripping onto the soft flesh exposed by your short skirt. He wonders if you chose this short skirt knowing that this would be how you two were going to end up? 

Your hips are rolling themselves against his lap, and underneath the dark denim of his jeans, he feels his cock stirring, beginning to press against the seams of his boxers.

Smirking against his neck you pull away, and look at him. His brown eyes look to you with lust and a flush is creeping across his features. 

“Eddie, are you hard?” you gently tease.

“Well, what did you expect? I’ve got a pretty girl sitting in my lap, and she’s kissing me like it’s her favourite thing to do” he lightly chuckles.

“That’s because it is my favourite thing to do. You wanna do something about it?”

“Not yet, Sweetheart..I’m kind of enjoying just seeing you sitting so pretty in my lap like that.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. Most guys were all too ready to get straight to the sex, but this admission from Eddie made your heart swell with adoration for him. Even in this increasingly sexual situation, he still found time to be the sweet Eddie that you knew him to be.

"Sit up a moment, Sugar' Eddie asks, his hands still holding their place on your hips. "Want you to rock against my thigh just a little" He flashes you a cheeky grin.

You throw each of your legs over his thigh and begin rocking yourself over the rough denim of his jeans. His fingers are playing along the hem of your skirt, and his eyes are locked on yours as you nod your head, giving him the go-ahead to flip your skirt up. His eyes glaze over upon seeing the growing wet patch on your panties. The combined feeling of your wet panties, and his jeans are creating the most delicious friction as you shamelessly grind your hips over his thigh.  

However much Eddie was enjoying watching you roll your hips on his thigh, he needed to see you. All of you.

“Sugar, I wanna see you…I wanna see my pretty baby..” he mumbles out, as his lips are leaving trailing kisses all over your neck.

“Only if I get to see you too, Handsome” you wink teasingly.

“Fuck… Yeah..okay, okay, Sweets. Give me a moment.” 

You swing off his thigh, and move to stand up. You watch as he all too quickly tugs his shirt over his head, and works on unbuttoning his jeans, and hooking his fingers to pull his boxers and jeans down in one quick motion.

You use this time to admire him in all his naked glory, eyes taking in the details of each of his tattoos. Having only ever fantasised about this moment, you want to savour every second of it.

“I’m feeling a little left out here, Sweets..Will you let me see all of you?” he says, his eyes looking over you, his hand dropping down to lazily tug at his hard cock.

You are quick to slip your panties down your legs, along with your skirt. Gripping the hem of your shirt in crossed hands you pull the shirt up and over your head. Sneaking your hand behind your back, your fingers make quick work of popping the clasp of your bra before taking it off.

Eddie takes you by your hand as he motions for you to lay down on the couch. You open up your legs, to give him space to get comfortable between your thighs. However, what you weren’t expecting was for him to settle between your thighs, with his face so close to your wet centre.

“Can I taste you, Sugar?” Eddie asks, his voice taking on a seductive tone.

You nod your head, not confident in your own voice at this moment.

His tongue darts out the wet his lips, before he moves in closer, taking one long firm swipe through your folds, the tip of his tongue coming up to flick over your clit. His tongue swirls around your clit a few times, before he sucks it between his plump pink lips, causing your hands to reach down to tangle in his mess of hair, needing something to keep you grounded.

“Can you take one of my fingers, Sweets?” he mumbles against your wet heat.

“Mhmm” you nod, your eyes closed, feeling too blissed out to form any kind of coherent sentence.

He slowly works one of his long fingers inside you, whilst his tongue is drawing lazy patterns over your clit. His fingers are working in and out of you, curling themselves upwards in a way that has you moaning a little more louder than before, letting him know that he’s found your spot. He slips one more of his fingers inside you, and continues on his mission to get you off. His other hand is splayed on your lower stomach, keeping you right where you are, and adding a gentle pressure, the chill of his clunky metal rings against the warmth of your skin is a welcomed sensation. 

 You can feel him grinning against you, as his tongue and fingers continued fucking you.

The ever increasing knot tying itself together in the pit of your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. The only sounds in the otherwise quiet trailer are your high pitched moans and the obscene sounds of Eddie slurping up your sweet juices like he needed it to survive.

“Come on, Sweets, you’re close..Can feel how tight you're squeezing on my fingers..She wants to come for me..” 

It didn’t take very much more until the knot in the pit of your stomach snapped and you were thrashing out your release against Eddie’s face.

As you slowly come down from your high, you look down between your thighs where Eddie is unashamedly sucking his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off your wetness.

“mmm..Tastes so sweet, baby” his teeth shining with a wide grin.

‘You’re unbelievable, Eddie Muson.” you laugh.

“Well thank you, I do try.” he says smugly. “I’ve gotta be inside you now babe, I’m so hard, it’s killing me” he admits, his tone becoming more desperate.

“Well, what are you waiting for, prettyboy?” Eddie’s face flushes at your gentle teasing nickname. The sudden realisation that, oh, he liked being your prettyboy, hitting him hard.

Reaching down to his discarded jeans, he rifles through his pockets until he finds a condom.

“Were you hoping to get lucky tonight?”not being able to resist the urge to tease him once more.

“A guy can only hope, right?” he smirks, tearing open the condom and rolling down his length.

Holding his hand on one of your hips, he slowly guides himself inch by inch inside your hot wet cunt, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“You okay?” he checks in with you.

“Y-yeah feels good, Ed…Keep going..Please..” you whine.

He keeps sliding into you until he's all the way inside you.

"You still good, Sugar?" his brown eyes looking down at you with love.

“Yeah.. I-I’m still good, Ed” 

The stretch of his thick cock so deep inside you feels so good. 

His hips pull back almost all the way before they thrust forward to meet your hips. He keeps the first few rolls of his hips gentle, almost as he’s frightened that you might break. Then he feels the heels of your feet digging into his backside and your arms holding tight around him, with your fingernails digging into the skin of his back. 

Leaning your head up, you take his earlobe between your teeth and tug gently before whispering in his ear.

“Want it harder, big boy”

He swears his mind completely blanks for a moment, before his hips are snapping into action, thrusting into you deep and hard. The sounds of skin hitting skin and your combined moans echoing off the trailer walls.

He’s pounding into you hard, everytime hitting that spot inside you that has you clenching around him in pleasure.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…You feel so fucking good” he grunts out, punctuating his words with harsh thrusts.

Your chest is rising and falling with heavy breaths, and your eyes are glossy from just how good he’s making you feel.

“Swear this sweet cunt was just made for me”  his hips continue to thrust deep into you.

He reaches his hand down, using his skilled guitarists fingers to play with your clit. He’s rubbing over your sensitive nub in quick tight circles, and you can feel your orgasm drawing nearer. 

“Kiss me..Ed..please..” you voice whines out desperately.

He leans his head down to capture your lips in a filthy clash of tongues, swallowing your moans. 

“Fuck…I love you…Fuck.” He rasps out.

His fingers find your clit once more, as he rubs it in tighter circles.

“You close Sweets? You gonna come for me?” 

All you can do at this point is nod, no other thoughts in your brain apart from your Eddie.

He rolls his hips a few more times and passes his fingers over your sensitive clit and that’s all it takes before your body tenses and your pussy squeezes tightly around him with your orgasm. 

That’s what does it for Eddie, the feeling of your hot pulsing cunt squeezing him, hips stilling whilst  he spills his release into the condom. 

He halts for a moment, still inside you, to lean down to kiss you once more in a softer, more gentle kiss.

“I meant it..y’know…” he says “I do love you.” 

“Eddie…” you say sweetly.

“Now, I know we’ve technically only been on one date, but we’ve known each other for so long, I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you ever since I’ve known you.” he rambles.

You silence his rambles with a press of your lips to his.

“Good, because I love you too” you smile back at him.

His heart swells. It may have been an unconventional first date, but Eddie’s sure he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[etherealsworldvision]

What’s Your Current Energy and The Energy You’ll Come Into?

[ With a Bonus Mini Letter from Your Inner Self ]

Before I begin the reading I’d like to take a moment to talk about: Monterey Bay Aquarium. They’re a non-profit organization that aims to inspire conservation of the ocean. If you’re interested do check them out and if you’d like to further support them click donate.

Divider Credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

New song discovery for the reading: Ecstasy by Anna Tsuchiya

1. 2. 3.

🚨 P.S.A 🚨 : I do not give personal readings! Disclaimer: this is for entertainment only!

Added Description: all my readings are timeless and meant to reach those who resonate to the messages.

[ General Messages: 3; Secret Circle; Rings; Chesapeake Bay; Pink and Purple; “Pick Me”; Uses this :3 text emoji; Slow Burn; Gradual changes; Relationship Content; Insecurity; Free things; DnD; WhatsApp; Comparison; Anticipation; Lana Del Rey; Coquette & Cottegcore; Becauseimmissy content ]

Pile 1

Cards: 6 of Swords; The Chariot; 2 of cups ®; 9 of Pentacles ®; The High Priestess; 2 of Pentacles

[ Messages: Izana Kurokawa; Temperament; Full Moon; Sagittarius or Capricorn Moon; 222; Strength; Unconditional Love; Diluted; Akon (?); Jealousy, Jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo; Heal; 19 or 22; “Silver-Spoon”; Kyle; Craving; Fanfics; 66; 9; June 6th ]

This is oddly specific but Kyle kept popping up…so idk if you are or dealing with a person with that name. It may be an extra confirmation.

Your Current Energy:

You may have moved on from a romantic connection (I’m not getting platonic), I’m getting the sense that you’re in a good place right now. It could have been a big accomplishment because we have the chariot (major arcana). You might’ve experienced a traditional connection that ended up being what you imagined.

For some reason, I keep thinking about relationship advice on tiktok and twitter (discourses). It may have placed a negative effect on your perception of what a relationship is supposed to look like. For a few, you may have grown up around traditional relationships and (might subconsciously) sought for that. Overall there is an emphasis on Traditional relationships regarding gender roles and stereotypes. I feel like it doesn’t help that there’s also a new-age agenda of approaching (new) relationships (mind games) as well as isolation.

After experiencing that you might’ve thought, “Why does everyone want this?” Or “Relationships aren’t all that great”. There’s this sense of having a nihilistic view in love because of media and personal experience. Which, I don’t blame you.

I don’t know if you recently stumbled on a post or something about love but I feel like it challenged your stance on it. Which leads to you wanting a better mindset of love & connections despite what you’ve gone through. Currently, you may be trying to find the balance in your connection (with yourself and other people) and getting to really know yourself.

The energy you’ll come into:

With the high priestess here, you may be learning how to be in tune with your emotions and your gut when it comes to people/connections. I feel like, because you’re getting to know yourself better and starting to understand what you want you’ll have an easier time seeking balance.

Compromise and balance is being emphasized in this reading, so maybe that’s the thing you’ll be focusing on (healing). What is your relationship with Compromise and Balance? How did it affect you? I also see that this will come once understanding nuances instead of having an “extremist” view. Another thing is that you crave for a stable relationship and seek it by finding someone who is stable.

Which is fine but there’s this big need of: them having to be “the (perfect) one” before entering in a committed relationship. You may have gotten fs readings/astro stuff because of this. The funny thing here is — in order to be in a committed relationship is to be okay with the unknown and trusting yourself. I know it’s easier said than done but that’s what I’m getting.

Another thing I’m getting is how you’re challenging yourself to be more focused on yourself in terms of finances, health, and basically practical things. There’s this sense of being grounded; how you want to treat yourself via materials and consumption.

Letter from Your Inner Self

“Who said we have to be rigid to be treated like ‘royalty’? Look at Simba! He's fun and outgoing — he’s still a well respected king and with the love of his life! We need to loosen up a bit, be more courageous when it comes to stepping out of our comfort zone. The longer we stay in our old ways we’ll end up living with regret, that’s worse than living with consequences! How about we do the first thing we were scared of? If we get a booboo on our knee that’s fine at least we did it. If they don’t show interest then that’s okay too, we can continue to sail. All I’m saying is we should have the courage to go with the flow and live our life to the fullest instead of wallowing or through the screen/fantasies. Let’s embrace the unknown and hope for the best, yeah?”

Alrighty pile 1 that’s all I have for you today. Thank you so much for sticking through until the end, I greatly appreciate it. I’m giving you virtual hugs 🫂 and shooting hearts at you! 🧡🧡🔫 *Pew Pew*

Pile 2

Cards: Knight of Swords; King of Pentacles; Empress ®; 10 of Cups; Knight of Cups; The Devil

[ Confirmation Messages: Rollercoaster; Lilo & Stitch; “Inner Demons”; Renaldo from Los Espookys; Camera; Water and Earth Placements; San Francisco; Fear; Amusement Parks; Kali Uchis; ‘Take a Seat’; Road-trips; Night Drives; 333 ]

Your Current Energy

Okay Pile 2 your current energy is stable in terms of finances (as well as materialistic things) and you’re well grounded. You may be looking into how you can better your current financial stability or just being more responsible by getting your needs met especially in money matters.

Another thing is — there’s this sense of caution in regards to spending money. Now, I can’t give financial advice (it’s not my forte) but I can give reassurance. If there is a bit of wiggle room to spend on a snack or on that t-shirt you like then it’s okay to get it. I feel like there’s this sense of shame in regard to spending despite being able to afford things.

I used to feel this way as well and I remember talking to my cousin about it. They would tell me, “Whenever I feel guilty about spending on things I like, I think about the amount of hard working hours I put in to be able to afford it.” To lessen the guilt or shame of buying something that makes us* happy. This doesn’t have to apply to huge spends — can be minor ones like an album or that pint of ice cream you’ve been eyeing at the store.

There’s just this sense of guilt of spending which leads to a bigger guilt of not being able to nurture yourself in the way you want to. I feel like there’s this blame you have towards yourself for wanting things and punishing yourself for not doing it (the “damned if you do damned if you don’t” situation). Based on your cards I don’t see money issues (currently going on) but I do see the trauma linked to it. I don’t know if this stems from childhood or recent experiences.

(If you can, talk with someone you trust. They may have some insight that you need or just connecting with someone in general.)

The Energy You’ll Come Into

What’s funny is: there’s this sense of “fuck it we ball” vibe. I don’t know how it got to this sudden shift but it’s reminding me of one of the reasons why this acc exists. So maybe a tiktok or reel will piss you off into buying something for yourself with zero shame.

( I struggle with imposter syndrome, when I saw a YouTube short of someone dropping a 50lb lollipop from a rooftop and called it an “experiment” (it’s just obnoxious food waste! There was no science or anything!). I got so mad that they were earning money for wasting food I ended up saying “fuck this I’m adding to society” and boom here I am lol. )

I’m not saying your financial trauma is going to magically disappear but there is this sense of being fed up with how it makes you feel. If you are (or will be) seeing a therapist you may be working on your relationship with this financial trauma. I think another thing that you will be coming into is learning how spending and financial issues have affected you. I feel like during this period you may be reflecting on your relationship with money while doing exposure therapy.

But yeah the energy you’ll come into is indulgence and emotional fulfillment (however be careful as to not over do it) without zero shame. Despite not having any balance cards besides the King of Pentacles — I do feel like that’s what you’ll be coming into. Working on balancing your wants and needs while regulating your emotions when it comes to money.

Letter from Your Inner Self

“I know we struggled with money but we’ve put in the hard work to make ourselves happy. Why not bask in our success for just a minute? Why not see how far we come by planning something for ourselves? Can’t we at least congratulate ourselves for putting our foot in the door and say “I did it”! Because we did do that! Yeah, yeah we dealt with delays, some difficulties along the way but we pulled through! We did that, baby! We made it happen — we have a job, a career! Let's celebrate ourselves and give ourselves the gratitude we deserve. We fucking earned it!”

Alrighty pile 2 that’s all I have for you today. Thank you so much for sticking through until the end, I greatly appreciate it! I’m wishing you the best! Remember it’s okay to have nice things for yourself! 🧡

Pile 3

Cards: Page of Swords; The World; 7 of Cups; Page of Pentacles; Knight of Cups; The Hierophant ®

[ Confirmation Messages: Astrology; Occult; Investments in Hobbies; Culinary Arts; New Passions; Lack; TikTok; Radios; Seltzers; Renaissance Fair; OktoberFest (?); Young or New Energy; Amethyst Crystal (Pendant); Twilight; Taking a Leap of Faith; Vampires; Vibrant Personality: 3 Body Problem ]

Your Current Energy

Your energy is like the sun after a cloudy day — like it is not like the other two piles. To be honest your excitement feels so contagious (in a good way). So you may have been very patient in the past or passive. You kind of just let life pass you by until something comes up.

When it did come to you and you took that chance it’s as if the world showed itself. There's so many options to choose from and that’s what’s getting you super excited. I feel called to say there are not wrong choices as it can work out with persistence and hard work.

Since you are in the process of accomplishing things or already achieved it — you may be wanting to expand/explore what’s out there for you. Let's say you got your drivers license, now you get to drive to the place you want. Or let’s say you took a chance on an idea then suddenly, you get loads of engagement. Because you took this chance a lot of opportunities are coming your way to the point it’s almost overwhelming.

The Energy You’ll Come Into

Because you’re putting in the work towards something you love — you’ll feel more fulfilled. I feel like whatever you’re working on will be another way to gain connections. It doesn’t have to be transactional connections — it just means you may make friends along the way or collaborate.

This especially applies to people who went the “unconventional route”. It feels like you made a decision that really aligns with you. I think what also really inspired you is seeing how people made their dreams come true, even if it’s by doing the simplest things. There is encouragement to remain open to what’s to come, especially when it comes to your creative skills.

I’m not getting too much on your future energy besides you making an earning from it and feeling fulfilled. I am getting this celebratory vibe that you have done it from the ground up. Through your patience and perseverance you were able to make it happen. I’m also getting a confirmation “yes, do it” to the question you’ve been really really thinking about.

Letter from Your Inner Self

“Listen…I know your intuition and anxiousness is going haywire right now. However, to feel your intuition you’ll feel a strong and I mean a strong pull to do something. I’m encouraging you to do it — do it even if you’re alone. You’ll never know the outcome unless you do it. Yes it’s unconventional but what’s the harm in taking that chance? We did it once, why not do it again and see where it takes us? It’ll make us happier knowing we did it instead of never doing anything. I believe in us, so don’t lose hope.”

Alrighty Pile 3 that’s all I have for you. Thank you so much for reading until the end, I greatly appreciate it! I’m so excited for you and wishing for things to go smoothly! Best of luck! 🍀🧡

[laylarevengers]

dress. manjiro sano x fem! reader. series. angst. tomen —> bonten.

part two.

as you hop onto the backseat of Manjiro's motorcycle, you can't help but feel a sense of sadness and uncertainty looming over you. accepting his offer to ride tonight was a bittersweet decision, as you knew it might be the last time you would have the chance to do so. the recent announcement that tomen was disbanding had caught you off guard, and the shock of it all had left you with widened eyes and tears streaming down your cheeks in the chilly night breeze.

you couldn't help but think of all the friends you had lost along the way - shinichiro, emma, and izana - all gone without a trace. and yet, you were still here, by manjiro’s side, willing to stay and fight until the end. so why did he act like you were already buried in the dirt and rotting away? the thought left you with a sense of unease, wondering what the future had in store for you both.

mikey shifted his gaze from the floor to you and let out a soft hum. you kept your eyes fixed on the water, leaning on the railing with your arms crossed, clad in his gang jacket. your grip tightened around your arm as you asked him the question that had been gnawing at you, "where will you go?" it wasn't unexpected, he should have known that you would ask. you cared about his safety and well-being, so it was only natural that you would want to know where he was headed. manjiro remained silent for a while, but the heavy silence was too much to bear, and he finally relented, "i can't tell you."

you had the urge to strike him, to unleash your anger and vent about the sheer stupidity of it all. however, weariness and the chill in the air held you back. you were drained from the struggles of your own life and still grieving deeply for emma. as you glanced up at him, you noticed his exhaustion and the bruises from countless battles. despite your efforts, tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. mikey shook his head, pleading, "no, no, please. don’t cry, please."

“how can’t i? you’re leaving.”

“i’m not leaving you.”

as the tears stream down your face, you let out a chuckle. "you are leaving me, jiro," you say, your voice strained and soft. "i don't think i’ll still be your girl in whatever future you have in mind." his eyes avoid meeting yours as he lets out a sigh, his hands gently cupping your face. "you’ll always be my girl," he murmurs, "but it's for the better if we're apart."

“how can i live without you?”

“you can. you have to.”

“you have this complex thing where you think everyone around you dies and you know, you fucking know, i’d die for you, manjiro. i would and i am okay with that.”

he insists, "but, i am not okay with it." he gently kisses your forehead, and the night carries on with silence and small gestures that only worsen the situation. It it been twelve years since that incident occurred. in the eyes of the government, he was considered the worst man alive, but you saw him as the creator of all the beauty in this world. you never expected sanzu to appear at your workplace, being an accomplished doctor, pleading for your help with ran haitani, who foolishly got injured. it was sudden and foolish of you to agree, but it meant you would get to see him again.

not manjiro sano, bonten’s lead. you’d see jiro. that was more than enough for a motivation to get into the car of a man you’d once saw as a traitor to your love.

1/?

[sadly-never-after]

I don’t have any real preferred endgame ships for Daring. I like Darabella more than the average tumblr EAH account and I love Dizzie but in a very different way than most shippers, I think.

Whenever I’m in my comfort place (my post canon extension based on Athena-xox’s amazing timeline (all time fave post. Truly an amazing accomplishment)) I like imagining that Daring will consciously decide to stay single and NOT mingle for a while, until he has come to terms with certain things. And I like imagining that Rosabella will be there for him, but rather as a friend with some unacted romantic chemistry. I want to believe that everything that happened since Legacy Day, culminating in his abrupt change of imagined destiny will trigger a more pensive side of him. And here’s when Lizzie comes. I want him to slowly become aware of how much he hurt her, even when it was never his intention.

I know this is a franchise made to sell dolls at tweens so it’s weird to get this dark about it, but let’s do this for the sake of my fantasies.

I feel like Daring has been hypersexualised and objectified through most of his life. His place as the most Charming of all the Charmings has turned him into a figure of lust and of status even before he was really aware of what those words meant.

The hypersexualisation can be seen through the recurrent jokes about girls fawning over him, following him, his dashing smile, and I honestly feel like Sparrow’s dare that lead to the entire thing with Lizzies was also based on that etc., etc., etc.,

When it comes to the objectification I think Duchess obsession with him is a good example. In NTV it becomes clear that she is not truly in love with him and when he scorns her she even daydreams about being the one able to reject him. Daring is not much of a real person to her. He is a symbol. He is the best of princes who saves his Princess and gets the two to live happily ever after. Everything that Duchess longs for and is denied.

To a lesser extent I also think that Ravens reaction to him (apparently) writing her a love poem could also be an example of this. Even if she has never been interested in Daring and has actually described her type as his opposite she still takes this as an accomplishment of some way.

Just to clarify: by no means do I blame neither Duchess nor Raven for this. They aren’t really at fault. This is more of a societal issue.

So, as he now realises all this things about his life, I want him to remember Lizzie. In my Sparchess heart the two are talking and Sparrow asks him about that one date Daring & Duchess had and after that a rush of unprocessed memories come at Daring and he can’t stop thinking about what he did to Lizzie for at least a week.

I want him to stay up away at night and cringe at himself wondering if an actual apology would be welcomed or not. It would make him feel better, sure, but is it Lizzie or his guilt conscience whom he wants to console? I want him to remember things about Lizzie that he otherwise didn’t think of very often. I want him to suddenly tell all of this to Rosabella only for her to feel disappointed and conflicted. I want Lizzie to catch him looking at her during lunch with a strangely contemplative expression and to turn away in apparent apathy only for her to be weirdly sad for the rest of the day and remember how isolated and betrayed she felt not only by Daring but also by Duchess.