#my throat hurts and i know the nose Problems are like a day away

[teddybeartoji]

i have a cold

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. ( HOTD x READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Niece! Targ! ( Strong ) Reader suggest song to listen to whilst reading: Like Real People Do by Hozier or Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives prompt : I wanted to ask Aegon x niece!reader who is married to him and has been for a long time (say since the Driftmark incident), and has been taking care of him for a long time: helping him through hangovers, patching him up when he gets into fistfights etc. And no matter how much he tries to drive her away by cheating, by yelling and throwing things and generally being disgusting she never gives up on him. I need the ANGST. can you do that please? and Hi🥰 Can I request an Aegon II x Targ!(Strong) reader. She is Rhaenyra’s first child, and she inherited the Targ looks, so she is accepted by the greens. She has always been close friends with Aegon, so it was logical for them to marry. Aegon is still kind of an ass, but he loves her, she can always calm him down. Feel free to change bits here and there, it’s just an idea. Thank you so much in advance, and much love to you!😊 word count: 1, 000+ words

When your betrothal was first announced, you were barely ten and one and Aegon, was ten and two. It was supposed to be a match made in good will. You were a year younger than Aegon, a happy girl who would make a good Mother one day. But, Aegon detested it. No, he loathed it! He made it clear as day, having no shame if hurt your feelings or caused problems. But, it never bothered you.

In many ways you were like Helaena. You were gentle, soft spoken and viewed the world with a special glimmer. There was this good in you. A good that everybody noticed and adored in the tense walls of the Red Keep. He noticed many things about you, not as if he was paying attention to you. Why would he? You were just a pest. His annoying, pest of a wife. 

You liked to read under the weirwood tree in the garden’s. You liked lemon cakes, not the actual tart, but the sugary lemon slice on top. Your eyes and nose could crinkle up when you smiled. You refused to wear a corset or keep up with the fashion trends in Court, preferring your own distinct style of gowns and hair styles. 

Your jaw would clench whenever you tended to his bleeding fingers, something he inherited from his Mother. You would chew on your bottom lip to stop yourself from flinching whenever he yelled at you. Your eyes would look for him in a room, like you wanted the assurance of his presence there. You were always patient with him, even though he never deserved it. 

You made him feel things, good things. He had gotten used to being ignored or only receiving negative attention. But, it was almost like a dirty little secret of his. To savor the good moments with you. To clutch it close to his chest when he was all alone in his bedchambers. You were good and you were always good to him.  He wanted to break that, and he would.

Watching as you softly wrap his hand with the bandage, he doesn’t speak up, not daring to ruin this one moment of peace. He could ruin it. He would ruin it, just not right now. This was a nice moment of calm. Just this once would he allow it. Feeling bile go up his throat, he swallows it back down, his face curling up in disdain. His head was still pounding. His gut bubbling up from the large amount of food and strongwine he gorged on. He felt sick, disgustingly sick. 

"You must be careful. Twas' a cut on the finger that took Viserys." You warn, "I do not wish for you to endure such a painful fate as well."

"Do not speak." He murmurs, almost pleading.

"Aegon, I worry for you. Truly, I do not wish to awake one day to hear you've died." You whisper, "Please, Aegon. Be careful. If not for my sake, then for your own."

"Stop with the nagging." He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I am not nagging, I know I am not the wife you wished or wanted. But, please, Aegon.."

Feeling his annoyance bubble as you say his name, your voice soft and making it sound so lovely. He detested his name. He detested the legacy that was being forced upon him for being named after his ancestor. But, the way you said it. You made it sound like such a beautiful thing. Like he was not the discarded son, the hated one, the sinful one. Pulling his hand away from you, he abruptly stands up from his hair, pacing on the other end of the table from you. 

He couldn’t bear you caring for him. He was horrid. He was rotten. Everyone in Court thought of it, why could you not do the same? Why could you not stare at him with the same disdain as everyone else? Why? Why? Why the fuck did Rhaenyra raise you so well? Running his fingers through his greasy hair, he thought of the cruelest of things to say to you, wanting to keep you far far away from him. To make you hate him. To make you see him in the same light as others do.

"Why can you not be like other whores? Why can you not spread your legs and not your lips?" He sneers, his voice cruel. 

"Is that I am to you? A whore." You ask, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

"Yes, your a thing for me to fuck. Something for me to use when I need my cock wet. So stop speaking and do your duty.” He continues, “Be nothing more than a thing for me to fuck when needed be.”

“Aegon..”

“No, no, you are nothing. You may look like a Targaryen, but you will always be the blood of a whore. Tis’ why it is no surprise you follow in the same path your Mother does.” He adds, watching your reaction carefully.

Seeing the tears bubbling up in your eyes, he for a split second wishes to take it all back, to beg for forgiveness. But, the voice in the back of his head stops him. You were Rhaenyra’s daughter, a good and kind person. She raised you right. She raised you perfectly. You were supposed to be his enemy. You were supposed to stare at him with the same hatred your Mother stared at his Mother with. Yet, despite it all, you were kind to him. It was fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Clenching his jaw tightly, he shakes his head firmly, burying the guilt that festered within him. Soon enough you would understand. Soon enough the good, the kindness, all of it would die within you. You would detest him. You would grow to hate him just as everyone else did. Then, only then, would it make all of the cruelty he had thrown at you be excused. He would then have a good enough excuse for it. The guilt he felt would die. 

“Why do you say such cruel things to me?” You murmur, your voice cracking at the end.

“Because I can. Tears do not move me, so do not expect pity from me.” He confesses, “I never wished for you. I never wished for any of this. Yet, you pester me with your kindness.”

“What must I do for you to not hate me? Tell me, tell me, what you wish for me to be and I will be it.” You murmur, eyes full of so much kindness.

“Stop talking.”

“Tell me, Aegon. Please, please, tell me what you wish for me to say and do. Tell me what girl you wish for me to be, and I can be that girl for you.” You plead, bargaining with him. 

“Stop talking.” He repeats, his voice a little louder. 

"Aegon, please, stop shutting me out. Just speak to me."

You stare up at him, big teary doe-eyes. The same look you gave him whenever unsure, seeking out guidance and reassurance. The same haunting eyes you gave at your wedding, so young and unsure of what to say or do next. Feeling everything bubbling up as you plead and beg him, attempting to please him despite it all.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Were you so damn good?! Why can’t you just hate him?! Why could he not just break you?! He broke everything else around him. From toys to furniture to others around him. He could break it all, yet you refused to break or bend.

"He is your brother, your kin. You should not treat him in such a manner."

"Aegon, you twat! You break everything!"

"Tis' the third glass you've broken this week, your grace. Do be careful."

"You are a Prince, a man of a high status, a man grown. Act like it, stop conducting yourself in such a dishonorable manner."

"Have you no shame? Do you not see the dishonor you bring to your wife? To our family name?"

Tears bubbling in his eyes, his bottom lip trembling softly, a lump in his throat thickening up. Shaking his head, he covers his ears with his hands, attempting to block out your soft pleas and attempt to mend things with him. You were so good. Alicent always said she wished to lock you away, to protect you from his rotten touch.

He wished that he was not so rotten. He wished that he could just hold you and melt into your warmth. He wished that he could love you the way that you clearly loved and cared for him. He wished that he could not have such cruel thoughts lingering in his mind. That you both could be like Rhaenyra and Daemon were, so happy and full of love. 

“STOP FUCKING TALKING!” He snaps, tears streaming down his face.

Thankfully, you stay quiet.

“Why can’t you hate me as all the others do? Why must you be so good? So kind? After all I have done to you, you continue to love me." He pleas, "Just hate me. Hate me, scorn me, hit me, damn me to the seven hells! Be like the others. Please..”

---

love you babe's for requesting this! i really loved this and had so much fun. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

@decadentfantasy

@the-riley-show

[justpeaxchy]

I heard you accepted opinions than httyd, could I ask for one? maybe a headcanoon about Hiccup x reader, maybe "how Hiccup would show love to the reader or what would happen if he was jealous", thank you for considering it.

Warnings(?): Hiccup is a lil jealous. A/n: thank you for the request <3! I hope I brought what you were asking for with the headcanons! (I feel like it's a bit short, but here you go! Notes: takes place after httyd 2 and before the plot of httyd 3.

Jealousy has a sword

First off, Hiccup wouldn't be one to get jealous that quickly, although he is protective and such, he trusts you to know that you won't do anything that'll purposefully hurt him in that way.

This doesn't mean he can ignore the pricking feelings of jealousy whenever someone or something else is taking up a lot of your time - more than usual.

He has a habit of checking on you throughout the day, even if his schedule is brimmed with chiefly duties, it's his desire to make sure you're just overall okay. So when he finds himself being more occupied throughout the day and gets the word that you're spending your time with other people, he feels somewhat guilty that he can't be that person who's giving you some attention.

Then the jealousy kicks in.

Especially if it's Eret; he trusts the guy now but he isn't dumb - almost everyone says he is extremely handsome and well-built. He knows you wouldn't do anything with him but he just doesn't like it if he's the one who's with you the most throughout your daily tasks.

"So, how was your day?" He'd ask. You hummed, embracing him into a warm hug that he initiated. "It was nice. I got to go on patrol with Astrid, help put out a couple of fires - again - and, oh, Eret helped me a bit with my sword fighting. After that I was in-"

"Wait, wait, wait. You said who helped you out?" Hiccup slightly broke out of the hug to look at you as you questioningly gazed back at him.

"Uhm, Eret?" You remained still in your spot as you watched him deeply sigh, his head turning towards the ground, allowing his hair to barely brush against your face. "Is ... something the matter..?"

Hiccup shook his head, his hair tickling your nose in the slightest, as he lifted his eyes to meet yours while he spoke hesitantly: "N-no, I just-" he sighed once again as he stared at you, fumbling over his words. As though he had given up on speaking, he gently pulled you closer, allowing your lips to meet. The kiss held an earnestness and passion that was disguised by the delicate way he handled you. He took his time pulling away from you, only doing it because of the necessary oxygen you both needed while he took in every detail on your face.

"Nothing's wrong.. I suppose.. but you do know that you can always come to me for that kind of stuff, right?" He leaned his forehead against yours, auburn hair mixing with yours at the touch.

You were flustered at his response, fighting against the temptation to stutter in your speech; "Yeah, I know... but you're more busy now and I wouldn't want to make you feel more stressed or anything-"

Hiccup was quick to interrupt you as he shut down your statement: "No. You wouldn't be doing anything bad to me if you came and asked for my help in something. I want you to do that." His answer seemed to be more urgent than he wanted, making him clear his throat from the embarrassment that began to creep upon him, "W-when you're a available, that is.." He let out a breath that looked as though he were exhaling all negative feelings away. "Y'know what, I'm making a new plan. From now on, we'll meet every day to better improve your sword techniques. Sound good?"

You were shocked, to say the least, by his answer. It took a lot of convincing to tell him that it shouldn't be every single day this happens, for the sake of his schedule and the things he has to do on certain occasions. He's the Chief now, not a teenage kid running away from his problems anymore - which made him a little bit sour when he thought about it.

In the end, after practicing your sword fighting every other day, he just went right back into doing it everyday instead. Even moreso after Snotlout had tried to spar with you. Hiccup felt more "entitled" to do that specific activity with you - for some odd reason.

(He just really likes to do this with you, especially with Inferno.)

"Hiccup, it's not like we don't see each other everyday as it is-"

"Shush. We're gonna meet everyday and work on this. It's for your benefit anyways. "

He definitely feels like it's one of the ways he can show his love for you, if not the most important one: by giving you his time.

(That's why he's so protective over being the person that helps you with your sword fighting.)

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

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ crying with eren 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 9: oh so messy!!!

✯⁠ eren jeager x reader

✯⁠ warnings: crying, rough oral (male receiving), ball sucking, choking, oral (female receiving), rough doggy, p in v, cream pie (maybe a bit of baby trapping)

You and your boyfriend have been dating for a while now. He's beautiful, smart and perfect in your eyes. Also, the sex life is amazing, he always makes you cum without any problem, and sometimes he even manages to scream out loud from all of the pleasure.

Eren sees you the same, a sweet little thing, who is always so eager for his cock. He loves to see your eyes light up every time you see his cock, it makes him wanna ruin you completely.

"Yeah, baby, take it in your mouth." he breathes out, guiding your head down on his cock. Your lips wrap around his tip, sucking on it lightly while you look up at him with the most innocent face. His eyebrows furrow, he doesn't understand how you can look at him like that while you have his cock in your mouth

"Be careful, sweetheart," he warns you as he thrusts his cock deeper into your mouth. You choke a bit around him, your eyes filling with tears. He stops, you look even more beautiful with tears in your eyes. Your throat hurts from how big he is, but Eren continues thrusting his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth.

"You can take it," he grunts, completely letting go. He hammers his cock inside your mouth, making you choke with every thrust. You feel like you can't breathe, tears and saliva running down your face. The expensive mascara you're wearing is smudged all over your face, and your boobs are soaked with all kinds of liquid.

"Lick my balls, love," he says, showing his balls right into your face. They bump into your nose, almost making you fall back, but you try your best to suck them how he wants to.

A pair of arms lifts you up and before you know it, you're thrown on the bed. Eren crawls on top of you, kissing you hungrily. He doesn't waste any time exploring your body before he's settled in between your legs. He licks your pussy a few times before muttering, "You're already so fucking wet, I don't even have to prepare your fucking pussy."

He positions his cock to your opening before thrusting in, knocking the wind out of your lungs. He doesn't give you any time to get used to his size, he has one goal, and it's to make you even messier.

"You love how I fuck you?" he asks with a grin, thrusting as hard as he can. He hits your cervix with every thrust, and it hurts, but it hurts too good for him to stop. He pulls away almost completely before slamming in again, this time you choke a sob. Tears start spilling out of your eyes once again, much to Eren's adoration.

You've never been this beautiful in his eyes. He loves to see your face filled with tears and the choked screams you make. Your whole neighborhood can probably hear how much you plead for him to stop and go harder at the same time. He thinks he finally broke you, finally made you into his doll.

Eren presses your body right into the mattress, preparing for what's about to come.

"I'm gonna fill you up. Are you gonna cum with me?"

You nod your head, hiding your face in the pillows. Your legs trash under Eren's weight as you try to get away from him. He's so mean, but you want him, but at the same time, you can't handle his thrusts.

His thrusts soon become frantic and without any pattern, and you know that he's close. His fingers find your clit, and he fingers it as fast as he can to get you to your orgasm.

"Here it goes, baby," he says, burying his cock as deep inside of you as he can, shooting all of his cum inside of you. You feel yourself being stuffed full, cumming with him. Your shake and trash, both of you riding out your orgasms.

"It was nice," you say quietly, lying down next to Eren.

"I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asks, and you shake your head. He has too rough, but something inside of you liked it.

"You were not, and maybe we can try it sometimes again."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @iheartpieck @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii

@satorustar @balenciagarette

[estrellami-1]

Anything

Trigger warning: discussions of death. Not a main character, but it does happen. Lots of angst. Lots of hurt/comfort. I’ll post it in the tags as well.

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a big problem, not really, but his brain won’t let it go and is making it a bigger deal than it really is.

Eddie won’t ride in his car alone.

With the kids, sure; he’ll practically dive into the backseat, noogie Dustin, generally make a nuisance of himself.

But if it’s just the two of them? If Steve insists on driving, Eddie will take his van. There’s no problem if Steve wants to ride with Eddie. But the other way around? Eddie riding with Steve? That doesn’t happen. And Steve has no idea why.

“Talk to him, Dingus,” is Robin’s advice. He’d flip her off, but unfortunately he thinks she’s right: this is something they’re gonna have to talk through.

So Steve pulls on his big-boy pants and marches himself to the Munsons’ trailer, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly.

He doesn’t expect Wayne, but maybe he should’ve, because that’s who answers the door. “Hi, Steve. You’re here for Eddie, I bet, he’ll be in his room.” He moves aside to let Steve in, and Steve thanks him after a second before moving down the hall to Eddie’s room.

He hears him before he sees him; or, more accurately, he hears his guitar. He’s playing the acoustic tonight, instead of his usual sweetheart, so Steve knocks instead of walking in like he’d usually do.

The guitar stops, and Steve hears it being put down, hears a heavy sigh. “Wayne, I’m not really in the- oh.” He opens the door as he speaks and blinks at Steve. After a second, he smiles. “Hey, man, c’mon in.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Are you okay?” 

Eddie purses his lips. “Define okay. I’m not currently being eaten by bats, y’know? But playing the acoustic always reminds me of my Ma.”

“Ah.” Steve shifts. “Sorry, man. Maybe I should come back later.”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re here now, aren’t you? I can’t be that terrible company.”

Steve snorts. “No, I just… I had a question, but it can wait.”

Eddie tilts his head. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He turns, sits on his bed. Motions Steve into his room.

Steve sits next to him, more comfortable here than in his own room. “Do what?”

“Put yourself last.” He shrugs. “You can ask me. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Okay, fine. Why won’t you ride in my car?”

Eddie frowns. “I do, though? Hell, I did what, two days ago? You, me and Dustin went to that comic store in Indy.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why won’t you ride passenger in my car, alone? Without any of the kids? And even two days ago you were in the backseat with Dustin.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just curious.”

Eddie takes a breath. “No, it’s- yeah. You should know.” He clears his throat, grabs the acoustic again. Plays a riff of some sort, fingers dancing over the frets. “I think I feel like I have to save everyone. Or at least be in a position where I can save them, if the need arises.” He swallows, takes another breath. His fingers still. They tremble over the strings. “Did I ever tell you how my ma died?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to inhale sharply. He shakes his head. “We can stop,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Eddie smiles ruefully. “I do, though.” He shakes his head. “I was… I was six. It was three days before my seventh birthday. We were driving home from the city. Ma was drivin’, an’ she let me sit in the front seat, since it was almost my birthday. Or- that’s what she said. I think it was so we couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t save her.” He swallows. His eyes are glassy. His accent is thick, the way it gets when he’s thinking about her, or when he’s emotional. His left hand grips the neck of the guitar tightly. Steve worries for his fingers. “We weren’t goin’ that fast, even, but forty’s enough when-” he shakes his head, looks away. Coughs out something that wanted to be a sob. Steve takes the guitar, takes Eddie’s hand. Puts the guitar down. Doesn’t let go of Eddie. “She unbuckled her belt. Dad didn’t see it. I did. Didn’t say anythin’. Maybe I should’ve, I dunno.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Then it all happened so fast… she smiled at me, an’ opened her door, an’ next thing I knew-” he wipes at tears on his cheeks. “D’you know what happens to a human head under the wheel of a car at forty miles an hour?”

Steve gasps, grips Eddie’s hand just as tightly. Pulls Eddie in when he begins to shake. “An’ I know why, now,” he whispers. “Dad weren’t good to her. I’unno what he done t’her. I know she did what she could. But I was there. I was right there.” He sniffles, trembles with the effort of keeping his sobs in. Somehow succeeds. “So that’s why. Figure if a kid were to try… I could stop ‘em. Figure if you were to try…”

“You could stop me.” Steve holds him tight. “I won’t,” he whispers. “I swear to you, I won’t.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back. “But I gotta be able to try.”

“Christ, Eds,” Steve whispers. “I was gonna ask if you’re okay but that’s a stupid question.”

Eddie giggles, still teary-eyed. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulls away to look him in the eye. “I’m staying tonight, okay? Nightmares are always worse after something like this.”

“Then you should go home,” Eddie argues. “Sleep while you can.”

“Nightmares are always easier with someone else.”

“Damn you, that’s true.” They both laugh a little.

Just then, Wayne comes in with two steaming mugs. “Listen to your boy, son,” he says to Eddie, handing over one of the mugs. He gives Steve the other with a wink. “Lavender tea with a shit ton of honey. Learned it from my ma.”

“Not my boy, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles, but thanks him for the tea anyways.

Steve thanks him too, and he winks again before leaving. Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’d apologize for him, but you’d just defend him.”

“Hey, I like Wayne.”

“I know. Sometimes I think you like him more than you like me.”

Steve chuckles. “Never. You’re my favorite.” He moves so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, drinking their tea, leaning against each other. It’s peaceful, and soon enough Eddie’s yawning and dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Imma pass out soon.”

“Then let’s get you up to brush your teeth before you do.”

Eddie groans like the toddler he secretly is. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, and you don’t wanna go to the dentist to get teeth pulled, either, now do you?”

“Shuddup.”

“Wow. Real master of words here. Really feeling that Dungeon Master power.”

Eddie thumps his arm, but snickers, and really that’s what Steve was going for in the first place, so he just smiles and leads Eddie to the bathroom.

Soon enough they’re in bed, tucked in next to each other, not quite packed like sardines and it’s only because of the heat outside that Steve isn’t more upset not to have more of a reason to touch Eddie. “Night, Eds,” he murmurs, smiling when Eddie rolls over to face him and is temporarily blinded by his own hair. Steve helps move his hair, grabs at Eddie’s hand when he’s done. “Wake me up if the nightmare doesn’t, okay?”

“C’mon, Steve, I can deal with them-”

“I know you can,” Steve answers. “But I want to be up if you are. I want to help if I can. Please, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs after a second. “Damn you,” he says, “I can’t say no to you.” He’s smiling, despite his words, so Steve smiles back.

“Thank you.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

“Night, Eds.”

Steve wakes up to Eddie crying out in his sleep. Even with his eyes closed, he’s got tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve sits up, turns on the lamp, and puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie?”

He rolls over, away from Steve, and continues sobbing. “Eds? Are you awake?” No answer, so Steve puts his hand back on Eddie’s shoulder and shakes a little. “Eddie, wake up!”

He’s up with an aborted yell and a flail of limbs, sitting up and staring into the darkness of his room, trembling. He sniffs and turns to face Steve, finally realizing he’s there, and Steve opens his arms for a hug.

He collapses into Steve’s arms, face mashed into the side of Steve’s neck, arms snaking around Steve’s torso to give an ineffectual tug. Steve takes the hint and inches closer until they’re practically hip-to-hip. “Y’wanna talk about it?” He asks. Eddie sniffs and shakes his head. “Y’want me to talk? To distract you?” Eddie nods. “Okay. Uh… I may have bitten myself in the butt with this one, ‘cause I’m not a great storyteller, not like you are, but did you know we actually met in middle school?”

No answer. “We did. Hawkins Middle was putting on its annual talent show. Now, back then, I was nobody. No one knew me, my name, my parents… nothing. I had one friend named Tommy, who I’d grown up with. Of course, you know him, and you know what happened between us, but he was my only friend back then. I didn’t tell anyone, but I signed up for the talent show. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to do something. I’ve always had a pretty decent voice, so I figured I could just sing, if I couldn’t figure out anything else to do. Knew I’d at least beat out Tammy Thompson.” He shifts so Eddie’s hair is no longer a choking hazard and pets his hand over Eddie’s head, doing his best to tame the wild curls. “So it’s the night of the talent show, right? And it feels like the whole school is there. I’m sitting backstage, peeking through the curtains, and am about to have my very first panic attack. Someone bumps into me and knocks me over. They tell me to watch where I’m going, even though I wasn’t moving. So now I’m on the ground, thinking about the crowd, and the noise is getting to be too much, and someone grabs my hand and it all… stops. Just like that. It’s silent, other than, like, a ringing sound in my ears. And this boy, the one who grabbed my hand, kneels in front of me, puts my hand on his chest-” Steve demonstrates, moving so he can grab Eddie’s hand and put it on his chest, just over his heart. “-and tells me to breathe with him. In, out. In, out. He raised his hand when we breathed in, and lowered it when we breathed out. In, out. In, out. And when my breathing’s calmed down, he tells me to name five things I can see. And you know what I said first?”

Eddie furrows his brows. “My… my hair?”

“Yup,” Steve nods. “But you’d just had it shaved off, so d’you know what I really saw first?”

“What?”

Steve giggles. “Your ears.”

Eddie groans and ducks his head, pressing his forehead into Steve’s chest. “Hated my ears.”

“I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound mean, but is actually a compliment,” Steve warns him. “Your ears reminded me of Dumbo. I always loved that movie, the reminder that we don’t have to change who we are in order to be loved. That sometimes the things we hate most about ourselves, the things people tease us about the most, are actually the things that help us most, in the end.” He guides Eddie to lay down. “And I’m not saying your ears are what saved you. But I am saying they reminded me that everything, maybe, isn’t entirely hopeless.” He smiles, tucks Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Says, “I like your ears.”

Said ear burns red. “You’d be one of the few.”

“That’s okay.”

“What’s your thing? Your… ears?”

Steve hums. “Did you know I cried a lot as a kid? I was very emotional, very easily moved. My dad always hated it, so I learned to cover it up. But I think it’s what got me here in the end. I could’ve told Dustin I didn’t have time to help him, but I didn’t. I got roped into this whole mess, but it’s how I got to know him and the kids. It’s how I got to know Robin and you.”

Eddie smiles. “I’m glad you cried as a kid.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” He shifts, a little closer, a little more down the bed so their eyes are level. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing I want less.”

“D’you think you can sleep?”

Eddie takes a breath. Steve feels the exhale over his cheek. “Maybe.”

“M’kay. Lemme know if you can’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Eddie.”

He giggles. “I’m kidding. I’ll let you know. I just… won’t stop talking at you until you answer.”

Steve hums, lets his eyes slip shut. “I’ll always answer.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, so soft. It makes something warm unfurl in Steve’s chest. “I know you will.”

Steve reaches out, squeezes Eddie’s hand in answer. Lets sleep drag him down the way it’s wanted to since he lay back down.

He doesn’t think about the fact that their hands are still clasped.

He’s the first one up in the morning, and he’s a little annoyed by it because they’d shifted during the night, so Steve is no longer facing Eddie.

His annoyance lasts for all of two seconds before he realizes there’s a warm weight behind him and over his hip, and he figures out it’s because Eddie is behind him, arm over Steve’s hip, fingers curled against the little bit of skin visible from Steve’s shirt riding up during the night.

Steve smiles, sighs, and lets his eyes sink shut again.

He doesn’t sleep, just kind of drifts, so he feels it when Eddie wakes up. He feels him tense in a stretch, feels his forehead press against Steve’s spine, feels his fingers curl farther into Steve’s stomach.

He feels Eddie wake up fully and realize the position he’s in. Feels him hum, then stiffen, slowly pulling away. Steve aches about it, but doesn’t move until he’s out of bed completely, taking the time then to roll over as if he’d just woken up. “M’rn’n,” he mumbles, not exaggerating the sleep-rough in his voice at all.

“Mornin’,” Eddie yawns. ��How’d you sleep?”

Steve hums, stretches, sits up. “Think I should be asking you that.”

Eddie smiles. “I slept fine. Now how about you?”

“No more nightmares?”

“Not at all. Think you chased ‘em all away.”

“Good.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh. Fine. Great.”

Eddie hums, but takes his word for it, offers his hand to help Steve up, which he accepts.

“Can I ask you something that I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna want to answer?”

Eddie grins crookedly. “You can ask me anything, Stevie. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.” He sits back on the bed, next to Steve. “What is it?”

“What was your dad like?”

Eddie blows out a breath, looks away. “Jesus, first thing in the morning, too. Uh… y’know how you said your dad is a grade-A asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s in the state prison for the next… five? Ten? Years. I dunno, don’t really keep track. Was just little things at first, petty theft, then he got an ego and started stealing cars, met a guy who could clean ‘em, and he just…” he shakes his head. “Wayne says he got too big for his britches. I say he got what was coming to him. He tried to rob someone and it… didn’t go well. He got caught, the owner tried to scare him off, swung first, but it doesn’t matter who swung first when he’s dead and my dad was trespassing, right? Tried to say it was self-defense, but…”

“But he was trespassing,” Steve nods.

“Exactly. He got twenty-five for that, and it’s been… twelve years? So I guess he’s got… thirteen left. Not five or ten. Guess it feels like he’s been gone that long.” He sighs. “I went to live with Wayne before that, though… I had a friend, he was my best friend, and my dad… really didn’t like how close we were. Spit out a couple’a slurs, said something about sending me to a camp.” Steve’s breath catches. “I called Wayne that night. Poor guy drove that night, was there by… one in the morning? Picked me up and I’ve never looked back.” He shrugs, picks at his comforter. “Turns out Dad was right about me, but Wayne’s never had an issue, so.” He shrugs. His fingers belie his nerves.

“I think, if I were to ever tell my dad,” Steve says quietly, “a camp would be the least of my issues.”

Eddie’s fingers still for a second before continuing, not fidgeting quite as quickly as before. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to tell him.”

“I think I do, though.”

“How so?”

“He’s got this… way. Of just proving himself right, every time. It’s why I haven’t left yet. He always finds a way to twist it around and show me I can’t make it on my own. Not on my Family Video salary.”

Eddie hums. “Maybe not on your own,” he admits. “But with a person or two? There’s Family Videos in other cities. Ask to transfer. Robin’s been making noise about heading to Indy, right?”

“I think she just wants out of Hawkins, and Indy is the only feasible place to her.”

“Very understandable. Where would you go, Steve? If you could go anywhere?”

Steve sighs. “That’s the problem, though. I can’t leave the kids.”

Eddie chuckles. “I should’ve known. Then why not find a place in between? Maybe on the edge of town?”

“We’re still both on a Family Video salary. I don’t think even combined we could afford anything.” Steve tilts his head. “You said a person or two. Who’s the other person?”

“Ah,” Eddie says. “Well, not to come between the platonic soulmates, but I’m sure Wayne would love to have his life back.”

Steve snorts. “Robin loves you almost as much as I do, Eds, of course you’re welcome.”

Eddie ignores that, for the sake of his own sanity. “Well,” he says instead. “Maybe it’s time to take a crack at those newspapers Wayne’s been hoarding.”

“Maybe it is,” Steve says, a strange sort of smile playing across his lips. “And I can ask people. You’d be surprised at the amount of gossip I hear at work.”

“Oh, I believe it, trust me. Or are you forgetting I use to hang around Sam Goody?”

“Oh, god,” Steve laughs, “I had forgotten that, yeah.” He sighs. “D’you think we would’ve been friends back then? If we’d known each other?”

“I don’t think so.” Eddie chews at his bottom lip. “Not because of you, but because of me. I was still stuck in that high school hierarchal shit, y’know? I would’ve seen you as an asshole jock even though you weren’t anymore.”

“I think I’m still working on it.”

“I think we’re all working on being who we want to be.” He stands and offers Steve a hand up with a grin. “And y’know what helps with that?”

Steve chuckles, places his hand in Eddie’s. “What’s that?”

“Pancakes,” he says decisively. “C’mon, let’s go bully Wayne into making us some.”

“And by bully, you mean ask once.”

Eddie hums. “Same difference.”

He waltzes into the living room, arms spread wide. “Sir Wayne! Our visiting prince has requested pancakes this fine morn.”

Wayne squints at him. “I’m your king, dipshit,” he says, lip quirked up in a smile as he winks at Steve. “Make your own damn pancakes.”

“Wayne!” Eddie cries. “Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!”

“You’ll live,” Wayne deadpans. Steve giggles.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne. “Fine,” he says. “We will make our own. But there shall be no extra for you, sir!”

Following him to the kitchen, Steve says, “We’ll make extra.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne returns, “but I’d ‘preciate it.”

In the kitchen, Eddie sighs with his head halfway in a cabinet. “Okay, so we don’t have mix.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “I can make them from scratch.”

“Or,” Eddie says, turning to Steve with a grin. “We can go out.”

“We could,” Steve allows. “But then Wayne wouldn’t get any.”

Eddie hops backwards onto the counter and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Y’know how I said we wouldn’t have been friends if we’d met earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“It really would’ve been entirely my fault.” He sighs. “You’re just… so nice. And it would’ve been unbelievable, for me, because the Munson Doctrine dictates that all jocks are assholes and stay jockish assholes. I think what happened… had to happen, if we were gonna be friends.”

Steve worries his lip. “Then… is it bad if I say I’m glad it happened? If only for that reason?”

“Only if I’m also glad it happened, for that reason,” Eddie responds quietly. “Y’know the only other person I’ve told about my ma is Jeff?”

“I’m…” he pauses, scrunching his nose. “I wanna say I’m honored, but that sounds weird.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve nods, and they stay there for a minute, looking at each other, until Steve looks away with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, pancakes?”

Eddie gusts out a sigh. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and shoves the flour towards Eddie. “Here. Two cups.”

Eddie frowns. “Only?”

“For now. We can always make more later if we need to.”

Eddie shrugs, but nods at Steve, as if deferring to his expertise. “D’you have eggs?”

“Uh.” Eddie checks the fridge, then the cabinet. “No, but we’ve got Spam?”

Steve snorts. “That works. Wanna cut up a can and fry it?”

“Works for me.”

And so they work, side by side, until breakfast is ready and they’re all three eating side by side.

After, Wayne stretches in his seat, glances at the clock, and mutters something underneath his breath as he gets up. “Thanks for breakfast, boys. Steve, you gonna be here for dinner?”

“Uh,” Steve says, glancing at Eddie. “Unless Ed kicks me out.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. 

“I’ll pick up burgers on my way back,” Wayne decides. “That work for you two?”

“Definitely,” Eddie nods.

“Sure. Thank you, Wayne.”

“Son,” Wayne starts, then shakes his head. 

Steve gets the message: he belongs here. His cheeks burn. “Thanks, Wayne,” he murmurs.

Wayne ruffles his hair as he passes.

“So,” Eddie asks, once it’s just the two of them. “Any plans for the day?”

Steve makes a face. “I gotta work at two, but I’m free till then.”

Eddie snorts. “Lemme guess, you’re working alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Well not today!” Eddie says brightly. “Why don’t I come with?”

Steve blinks. “Because… why would you?”

“Cause you’re my friend, Stevie. I wanna hang out with you but I can’t do that if you’re at work and I’m here.”

Steve snickers. “I guess we can talk about moving in together. Tuesdays are always the slowest day of the week.”

“Yeah! Wayne’s got the papers around here somewhere.” He trails off, looking around, then bounds over to the TV with a triumphant, “Ha!” He reaches into the crate the TV’s sitting on and pulls out a stack of newspapers. “Okay, we don’t want anything from last year… beginning of this year might be too old…” he hesitates, looking at Steve. “Maybe since Spring Break? A lot of people moved out.”

Steve hums, moves closer. “Good point. There’s bound to be something on the edge of town.” He sighs as he sits next to Eddie. “The only problem is Robin doesn’t have a car, or even her license. And if I’m working here, and she’s trying to work in Indy, how’s she gonna get there?”

“Well,” Eddie begins, “who says you have to stay at Family Video? Why not stretch your wings out? Try something else? Indy’s a big city with lots of opportunity. How about this.” He shifts so he’s facing Steve. “If you could do anything in the world, work anywhere, what would you do? Where would you work?”

Steve fidgets with his pant leg as he thinks. “A bakery,” he decides softly.

Eddie stills for a moment. “I feel like I should’ve seen that coming. You’d be a great baker, Steve. Or if you want to just sell the baked goods, you’d be great at that, too. Hawkins is small enough we don’t have need for a bakery. Not when you can get everything you need at Melvald’s. But Indy’s big. I pass by two bakeries every time I head into the city.” He puts a hand on Steve’s knee. “Stay at Family Video for now. But when we move, you can apply to those places. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He can feel his cheeks heating up, feel the excitement coursing through his body. “You really think I could?”

“Steve.” Eddie sighs. “I think you are so much better than you see. I think you can do anything.”

“I dunno about anything.” Steve ducks his head as he blushes. “But, uh. Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “For?”

Steve looks up at him. His breath catches, for a second, at the look in Eddie’s eyes. He looks away with a shrug even as his cheeks heat up. “Believing in me, I guess.”

“Anything,” Eddie promises again.

Steve looks at him again. Really looks, even as his cheeks heat uncomfortably warm. “…Anything?”

Without looking away, Eddie grabs his hand. Rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Whispers it again.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Eddie kisses back.

[vibingandsimping]

This is exactly who you think it is. 🦜🦜

Might I request the origin characters (+ Halsin) of your choice caring for a burnt out/sick Tav?

Hello! I shall call you bird anon…

(Leave me and my family alone)

But ask and you shall receive! Requests/thoughts always make my day.

Origin characters + extra companions taking care of an exhausted reader pt. 1

No forewarnings besides maybe some suggestive mentions and a little angst. Mostly all fluff + comfort… barely proofread

Characters included in this part: Astarion, Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira

Astarion

Astarion, when you present him with the problem after his insistent pestering, is a little lost. Everyone has their breaking points and their limits. You just held a confident front for so long that he started to believe you truly lacked one. He suggests the pleasures of the flesh at first. “To ease that pretty mind,” he claims with a smirk. You can tell in his gaze it’s his default- he was used for his body for so long it’s clear he’s unsure of what else to say. A bit of frustration with both him and his past bubbles up. It hurts to know he values himself that little and at the same time… it’s frustrating that he thinks it will solve anything. After a curt “No thank you.” he seems to deflate a bit. You stalk off to your tent as he watches from afar.

He sat with himself as he contemplated his abilities. You’d done so much for him over the period of time you’d known each other. Quite frankly, he hates to say it but he’s realized he’s taken you for advantage. He reminisces over the times you’d let him feed and he has had his nose pressed into your skin. How he’d inhale your scent and memorize it with your blood. He broods over it for a little before beginning to test different scents and oils. What he believed would work with your body chemistry and what he knew you liked.

It’s an hour or so later when you hear slow footsteps. Whoever it was made their presence known, so as to not scare you with a sudden intrusion. You’d been laying with your head in silence and the dark due to how it throbbed. Everything seemed so loud and overwhelming. He speaks smoothly and announces his arrival, you just grunt in acknowledgment. It seems to amuse him as he laughs gently and places something on the ground. Which? You’re unsure- and you could care less to check right now. It’s only when you hear the flick of a match and the room illuminates that you peek. He has a couple of wax candles laid out that seem to be dripping in mixtures. He smiles at you in such a way that you push suspicions aside. The room flickers with the light of the candles. “Relax. I made these special for you. Just focus on them and let the world wash away.” You watch him for a minute more as he lights the candles and the scent grows stronger as it burns with the wax. At first, it also overwhelmed you. You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and focus on taking deep breaths. With each inhale, you draw more of it into your lungs and feel your muscles slack. Whatever he used was working wonders to calm your body and ease your mind. He did miss his calling as a perfumer.

The feeling of cold hands on your neck tenses your so delicately relaxed frame. His voice comes out in a shush, making you shiver from the tone. The way his fingers move so slowly tells you he’s holding a part of him back. It’s likely the reflex to make things more… intimate. A part of you swells knowing that he is trying a more simple intimacy on you. Thumbs dig into the tense muscles until they’re worked from the stiffness. Soft moans of content escape your throat. Though, just the same are the groans of pain when he reaches a more tender spot. “You’re lucky you have such a caring companion.” He muses half-heartedly, an attempt to make you smile. It did, matter of fact. You’re sure he knows because his movements become more confident. You drop your head back into your pillow and breathe out a sigh. He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on your back. It was quite comforting to know he was there if you needed it. You eventually drift into a half-conscious state as he works your tender flesh. By the time he’s left you to rest you were already asleep.

Gale

Gale’s watchful eye concluded your growing burnout long before it settled in. He was a wizard- a man who studied for a living. He understood frustration and burnout. He’s faced it many times before… and it’s never an easy thing. When you settle down at the camp for the night, he can’t seem to get his eye off you. You walk around slowly and seem out of it. The man sits in his thoughts for a moment longer and decides to make his way over to you. You, of all people, deserved to have a moment to relax and truly replenish your mind. His hand makes contact with your arm and you’re snapped from your daze. He gazes down at you with a softness and silently asks you to follow him. You’re too worn down to argue and just nod.

He winds you out of the forest and towards a still lake. A drinking deer turns and shoots out from its spot when you two arrive. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he bashfully smiles. “Water is soothing to the mind and muscle. I’ll take care of you- let me.” The moonlight dappling the water is tempting and he seems harmless enough with his request. You relent and begin to slowly peel the clothing off your body. Turning back around you stride into the water only to find it pleasantly warm. It was almost hot- glancing up at him as he removed his robe, you knew he tampered with magic to heat the water. You’re not complaining though. It’s already doing wonders to work out the aches in your muscles. He slides in behind you and asks you permission to touch you. You hummed approval as you closed your eyes and put your trust in him.

He lathers his hands with soap and begins to work your muscles along your back. Simultaneously massaging gently and washing you clean. His fingers work from your neck to your shoulder blades, down your spine, and to your legs. He slowly turns you around so he can repeat the same process down your front. He’s careful around your more intimate areas, eyeing you cautiously to gauge what’s too much. It feels nice to be doted on and not have to bathe yourself for once. You’re sure he knows it, too. Then, he whispers for permission to do your hair. You barely speak and instead hum once more. He chuckles a little before wrapping an arm around you and one under your head. He dips you into the water until your hair is thoroughly soaked and pulls you back up. Like that, he begins to lather shampoo into your scalp. His fingers work wonders and you moan a little. The moment is gone too soon for your preference and he’s washing it out.

After a minute more of holding you in the water as he rinses you off, he guides you out. You almost protest like a child, wishing to relish the hot water a little longer. He hands you a large linen cloth and you dry yourself off. Squeezing your hair until it no longer drips annoyingly and wrapping it around yourself to conceal your intimates. He follows alongside you back into camp and you head into your tent. He lingers beside you while you settle down and gather some night clothes. Then, as soon as the eyes are noticed, he leaves you to your own devices. You manage to get to sleep surprisingly easily and the night passes mostly peacefully. In the morning, your previous clothes are folded neatly outside your tent. They’re clean and practically spotless. Gale must’ve taken the time to wash them while you slept and hung them to dry overnight.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel’s instinct is to scold you for showing weakness. Githyanki are warriors and have no time to tend to the frail. Yet, you’ve proven anything but frail in the time she’s known you. She’s utterly torn and wears it on her face obviously. You’re unsure why you turned to her for comfort, it was obviously a mistake. You sigh exasperatedly and trail off as she watches. You almost make it to your tent before her hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you to look at her. “Battle me,” she speaks blatantly. “Githyanki soothe their mind and body with battle. It is all I know to do. Battle me.” There’s a desperation in her voice. She cannot stand to see you so exhausted and fed up. You squint at her and almost protest that all the battling you’ve done is what led you to this point. The expression she held deterred you. You complied in the end.

She leads you into a dirt clearing and unsheathes her sword. Her face is like the steel she holds in her grasp and you ready yourself. There’s a moment of silence and anticipation that hangs in the air as you two lock eyes. She makes the first move, launching towards you and missing the side of your face by a few inches. You retaliate and dig your weapon of choice into her side. She grits her teeth as she is sent sprawling a few feet away. The girl gives you little time to react. Her next attack flies at you and you two are a clash of steel and flesh. There’s an adrenaline that elicits your veins and your head clears. The worries of taking care of everyone fade and you focus solely on your sparring partner. It’s like a second wind that envelops your body. It takes you a few hits until you realize she’s purposefully leaving herself open and using weaker moves.

She was allowing you to win. To taste her blood and victory in battle. You’re almost insulted if it weren’t so flattering that she was laying herself openly for you. You lay a final hit on her and she kneels with her head bowed. The two of you pant as wounds seep blood. Nothing is too deep and can easily be fixed by bandage or magic. She pulls herself to her feet and smiles softly at you. “A formidable opponent. You underestimate your power.” It was her form of a compliment, you supposed. She then followed you back into camp and sat you down. She runs a wet rag along your scrapes and cuts. The crimson washes off and leaves the wounds exposed to the fresh air. The githyanki is gentle in her touch as she wraps them with a bandage and secures it in place. The muscles in your body flex as you test the hold before turning your attention to her. You go to tend her wounds but are met with a hand in your face. “I am fine. I am strong enough to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, need to recover to lead us onward.”

You quirk a brow at her before pulling away and allowing the campfire to warm your bones. She works deftly on sealing her wounds and you can’t help but feel a little rejuvenated. It wasn't pampering of sorts- but she cared. She tried her best to show it and that’s truly what mattered. She fought against her nature to shame you and instead attempted to cure your ailments. She was rough around the edges but had a soft heart. The thought made you smile softly as you watched the shadows of fire dance along her olive-green skin. She catches your gaze for a moment and seems flustered. “Go rest.” She commands softly and you laugh breathlessly. It takes you a moment to get to your feet but you manage it. Some sleep would surely help repair the worst of it as long as you took it easy the next day.

Jaheira

Jaheira was an older elf. She could spot the telltale signs of wear. Whether that be mental or physical. She took care of her harpers for just about as long as she could recall at this point. It felt nice to not have to be the one in charge- but maybe she took too much comfort in it. A little guilt weighed in her heart. Too late to dwell, though, you needed assistance. The crackle of the fire was all that could be heard as you sat in front of it. You were still- seemingly lost in thought. She groaned a little as she lowered herself to a seat. Her knees weren’t as they used to be. The sound alerted your mind and you snapped out of it to look at the woman. She smiled softly at you and handed you a goblet. In her other hand was a bottle of wine and her own goblet. “Do not worry, no funny games this time. Just something to unwind.” You scrunch your nose a little before grabbing it.

The bottle uncorks and she pours a glass for you two. It’s not the finest wine but certainly was much better than the gruel served at the tiefling party. You draw your knees to your chest and take a long sip. After she takes a sip of her own she clicks her tongue in thought. Her gaze isn’t on you but on the campfire as she begins to speak. “You are more powerful than you know,” she begins and you look at her from the corner of your eye. “I’ve seen it firsthand. You vanquished the curse of the shadowlands and defeated Ketheric Thorm. I am surprised you didn’t succumb to exhaustion sooner.” You tense, almost expecting it to be an insult. Her softness of tone betrays that thought. “You need to rely on your friends and company more. We are here to help. We care. I care.” She enunciates the last word by looking at you. You can’t help but feel a soft fuzz blooming in your chest. Was it her words or the alcohol?

“I took care of my harpers for a century or more. It is hard work to look after the well-being of everyone else and yourself. I think I became too comfortable in letting you guide me. I apologize for that, truly.” You open your mouth to speak but she shushes you with a point of her goblet. That gesture makes you flush a little and take a sip of your wine once more. “I have seen many people in my life. I have lost many people in my life. You are among some of the most… wonderful I have seen. I will be damned if I lose you to anything beyond yourself.” She smiles at you, the age lines on her face only speaking to how truthful she is being. You can’t help but feel relaxed by both the influence of the alcohol and her words. You realize anything you say would be practically pointless. So, you just shuffle to her side and press against her. She hums in satisfaction and wraps an arm around you. You can hear her swallowing her wine more clearly. There’s a comfortable silence that is punctuated occasionally by the crackling of the fire.

“Another pour?” She offers as she holds the bottle and you cannot help but laugh while gesturing your goblet. Indulging for a night hurt nobody and hell you deserved it. She refills the two glasses and rests her head against yours. There’s a mutual understanding of comfort and connection between you two as you sip and watch the fire. It’s nice to not have to say anything in return. To be able to simply sit and digest the fact that somebody appreciates the fact that you work so tirelessly for them and everyone around you. It’s only til your goblets empty again does she finally pull away and cork the wine. You stand and allow the buzz of the alcohol to warm your veins and loosen your mind. She offers a hand out with a sheepish smile, “Help a gal up?” you tease her for a minute and grab her hand as she hoists herself off the ground. She regards you with a softness and plants a gentle kiss against your forehead. You two part and head to your respective tents to sleep the night away.

[thought--bubble]

Make You Beg

Ettore X Prison Nurse Reader X Will (Salad Days)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2736

Ettore Masterlist

Will (Salad Days) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Gorgeous Banner inspired by this story made by @vhagar-balerion-meraxes it is so beautiful!

A/N: Not me writing the filthiest thing I can imagine with two minor characters. This is purely self-indulgent.

Warnings: Ettore is his own warning, mentions of physical violence, blood, Dubcon , biting, scratching, predatory behaviors, hair pulling, mentions of pain, some sub/dom behaviors, degradation, fingering, oral sex male receiving, PinV unprotected, rough sex, deepthroating, crying, humiliation and praising.

"Again?" You sigh as your favorite frequent flyer, Will, shuffles into your exam room with yet another bloody lip and possible broken nose.

"What can I say? I missed ya. " he chuckles as he makes his way to the gurney on the left.

You put your hand up to the guard that brought him as he goes to handcuff him to the gurney.

"That isn't necessary. Will here won't give me any problems" You smile at Will, you have been through this with him many times and have built a friendly rapport. You trust him to behave.

"It isn't you that I'm concerned about" the guard laughs heartily, as another guard walks in with an inmate you haven't seen before.

The inmate has clear injuries to his mouth but would still be lesser priority than Will.

Will rolls his eyes and audibly groans. "This fucking nonce"

The other inmate lunges toward him, the guard grappling him to the floor.

"Cut it out!" The guard yells authoritatively, the inmate on the ground immediately stops struggling, allowing the guard to get him back to his feet.

You shriek as you jump back. "Should we even have them both in here at the same time?"

"They will be fine as long as this one can learn to shut his gob," the guard by Will says as he latches Will's arm to the metal post of the gurney.

You move to the second inmate as he is also latched to his gurney. "Ettore," the guard next to him says. "Watch out with this one he is a....... just watch out"

You look at the two guards with confusion as they move toward the door. "Where are you going?!" Your voice is laced with panic. You have never been left alone with an inmate, let alone two.

"The fight they started devolved. It's all hands on deck. They are hooked tight. You'll be fine. I will come back as soon as possible"

"Surely you are joking?" You whimper slightly as the two guards leave the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

When you turn back around, you see your two patients. Each handcuffed to their gurney. Will looking over at Ettore, hatred etched across his face while Ettore stares directly at you. Tilting his head slightly to the side as his eyes wander up and down your form.

"Right. Ummm, " You nervously wipe your palms on your thighs trying to quell the nausea creeping its way up your throat. "Will seems to have more injuries, so I should tend to him first"

You nervously move toward Will while trying to position your body so that you don't entirely turn your back on Ettore.

"I wouldn't let him hurt ya, ya gotta know tha" Will smiles at you from his place on the gurney, his voice soft and sweet.

"No offense, but you let him hurt you pretty good." You chuckle as you start to dab away the blood on his lower lip with a cotton ball.

"Yeah, well, that's different. Two blokes throwing blows. Not the same thing as an animal like that coming after a lass. " You can hear Ettore grumble from across the room, his handcuffs clacking against the metal bar of the gurney.

"Will," you say warningly "remember, watch your words. I don't want any further trouble with you two."

"You know what he's in here for?" He asks, making your stomach turn. You don't know and don't want to know.

"You're all in here for something, hardly my business, to know what" You finish tending to his lip and start to clean around his eye.

"I robbed a post office. Then beat my best friend half to death over a girl that never even liked me. I'm an idiot. Not an animal. " You stay silent and continue to tend to his wounds. You had always wondered how he found himself in here. He was scrappy, but he was so sweet.

"He is an entirely different beast." He motions toward Ettore, who simply scoffs.

You swallow nervously. Between the comments from the guard, Will's analysis and Ettore's lecherous gaze you had an inkling of what type of "beast" Ettore might be, making the fact that you have to treat him all the more daunting.

"I'm here to heal, not judge. Now sit back. " You push Will back against The gurney by the shoulder so you can inspect his nose further.

"You have such a handsome face. You really should stop getting punched in it. " You move to set his nose, and he grunts.

"Think I'm handsome, do ya? He wiggles his eyebrows at you and smirks.

You blush and pat his shoulder. "Nose should heal up fine."

You turn and walk towards Ettore, your stomach dropping.

"Hello Ettore, let's take a look at that mouth ok?" You take his chin in your hand and angle his face upward and can't help but notice the goosebumps that ripple across his skin at your touch.

Swallowing deeply, you gently ease his mouth open with your thumb and use your little flashlight to peer inside. "Doesn't look like any teeth were knocked loose or anything like that so you should be fine."

You move to leave his bedside, but his hand shoots up and holds your wrist tightly. "Ettore....." You attempt to sound intimidating so you could assert your authority over him.

"Oi!, let her go!" Will yells from the other side of the room, his cuffs jangling wildly against the metal bar of his gurney.

Ettore pulls you down roughly toward his face and sniffs into your hair with deep, long controlled breaths.

You stay very still, your mind telling you to run but unable to respond physically. Frozen in place while Ettore continued to sniff you.

He clamps his hand tighter still on your wrist as he grips the hand cuff with his other hand pulling tightly until the gurney bar snaps out of place.

Your breath hastens as you hear the light jingle of him sliding the handcuff down and off the bar before bringing his newly freed hand to the back of your head gripping your hair tight and pulling your head back.

You can feel the harsh thump of your heart beating in your chest as he drags his nose down the length of your neck, breathing in deeply. You can still faintly hear the sounds of Will struggling against his confinement on the other side of the room as Ettore begins to speak quietly.

"Do I excite you?" He asks as he nips at your neck. You feel a burning heat building in your core. You know you shouldn't. This is a bad man. A man that you should not be anywhere near. Yet you gently nod your head as he smirks at you.

"Hey! Let her alone!" Will desperately attempts to free himself to no avail. The desperation evident in his tone.

Ettore bites into your neck harshly, and you can't help but squeak. "Mmmm," he grumbles into your neck. Shivers of pleasure and fear make their way down your throat and down the length of your spine. He gently licks at the marks he left, the stinging sensation further adding to the heat building in your core.

Will's struggling is echoing throughout the room, and his desperate pleas pull at your heartstrings, seemingly breaking the spell Ettore has cast upon you. You pull yourself away from Ettore and stumble backward a few steps.

Your brain telling you to put as much distance between him and you as possible, your body begging you to return to him.

Ettore looks at you with curiosity and then smirks, swinging his legs over the side of the gurney.

You turn and walk back to Will quickly. "You alright?" He reaches out and gently touches your cheek before turning his head towards Ettore, who is now stalking over to you.

"Let her alone!" Will wraps his free arm around you, clutching you toward his chest. His heart beating loudly against his rib cage. The feeling comforting.

Ettore wraps his arms around your midsection, pulling you towards him while Will swings at him wildly with his free arm.

"I swear I'll kill ya!" He yells, desperately pulling against his restrained wrist.

"She don't want that..... do ya?" Ettore strokes his hand down the side of your body, lightly grazing over every curve and dip, until he reaches the waistband of your scrubs and quickly brings his hand to your heat.

Pleasure shoots straight through your body all the way down to a pleasant tingle in your toes at the touch.

"No," you just barely whisper, leaning your head back against Ettore's shoulder.

Will's mouth drops open in shock. "What?"

He watches as Ettore rubs at your pearl in circles, your head leaning back against his shoulder, your muffled whimpers growing in volume.

A satisfied smirk crosses Ettore's face as he continues pleasuring you while his gaze is fixed on Will.

"Want more?" He growls in your ear, his never-ending staring contest with Will still raging on.

"Yes," you moan more than whisper desperate for more of the delicious friction his hand was providing. Ettore bends you over the gurney, your chest pushed down into a stunned Will's lap. He makes quick work of your scrubs and panties, bringing his hand to the back of your head and yanking you up by the hair.

"Look at him," Ettore growls as he shoves a finger into your cunt, pumping it furiously. "Make him beg for some"

You lift your eyes to meet Will's while wanton moans escape your lips.

Will brings his hand down to your face and gently strokes your cheek with his fingertips. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. The praise going straight to your heat.

Ettore removes his fingers from you and pulls his own pants down to his mid thighs stroking himself a few times before roughly grasping your hips and shoving his cock inside you all the way to the hilt.

You scream at the sudden intrusion, the pain mixing with pleasure as you feel yourself split open on his girthy length.

"Shhh shhh, you're ok," Will gently coos as Ettore starts to pound into you furiously. Dragging his free hand down your back, his fingernails digging into the skin like an animal marking its territory.

You emit a sound somewhere between a painful screech and a moan while Will takes your face in his hand. Like you were made of glass, his tender touch mixing with the raw animalistic touch of Ettore, causing a swirling of pleasure to radiate up through your stomach.

Will shifts on the gurney, adjusting himself, trying to hide his growing bulge as he watches Ettore take you, all the while providing you with tender words and caresses.

Your mouth hangs open as Ettore roughly drags his cock against your walls battering your insides with reckless abandon. Your eyes connected to Will's as he wipes the tears that stream down your face.

Ettore reaches up and once again grips your hair, yanking your head back.

"You're a little fucking whore aren't ya?" His breathing is labored, each of his thrusts somehow seeming harsher than the last.

"Yes, yes," you whimper your mind blank and fully submissive.

"Then act like one," he grunts as he shoves your head down harshly, your face pushed up against the erection hidden within Will's trousers.

Will looks at Ettore with anger lacing his face.

"You don't have to do anything for me. Don't worry about me. " he pushes Ettore's hand away from the back of your head and caresses the recently abused area with a gentle touch.

"I ... I want to" your voice bounces as Ettore continues to slam into you from behind the skin on your ass going numb from the repeated skin to skin smacking.

"Uhh..." Will's voice is unsteady as you bring your hand up to his bulge, gripping his length over his trousers. He closes his eyes and groans at the pressure, shocks of electricity traveling up his spine.

You pull at the trousers and Will lifts himself up for a moment allowing you to get them down enough to free his cock.

"Only if this is what you want" He says breathlessly as he grips his length tightly the angry red tip leaking pre cum.

"Fuck!" Ettore growls loudly from behind you digging his fingernails into your skin. "Do it you little fucking whore."

At Ettore's demand you take the tip of Will's cock into your mouth swirling your tongue around the tip moaning as you taste the pre cum that has begun to collect there. "Shitttt," Will moans as he pushes your hair out of your face, giving him a better view of you with his cock in your mouth.

Ettore's thrusts grow harder forcing Will's cock further into your mouth as he begins to involuntarily buck his hips. "You're so fucking pretty, so pretty" Will moans stroking the back of your head gently as Ettore's cock continues to roughly spear your cunt and Will's cock batters the back of your throat being pushed further and further until you struggle for oxygen.

Ettore grabs at your ass digging his fingers into the skin before bringing his hand around your hip and rubbing furiously at your pearl.

"Cum you dumb slut. I want to feel you clench around my cock as I fill you up" he snarls like an animal in heat leaning down and biting into the soft skin of your back.

you whimper at the demand and the pain, feeling your climax creep up closer and closer, unable to do anything but succumb to his wishes.

"Let go beautiful," Will whispers pleasure etched across his strong features, his thrusts into your eager mouth growing sloppier by the second.

With his gentle words and Ettore's rough touch, your orgasm wracks your entire frame. You moan loudly in pleasure, eyes rolling back, and legs nearly buckling beneath you.

You hear a loud grunt from behind you as Ettore empties himself into you, his fingernails again digging into the plush flesh of your hips.

Will thrusts into your mouth twice more before he whimpers releasing a salty stream of cum down your throat before collapsing back on the gurney.

Ettore pulls himself from your quivering walls and pulls up his trousers quickly, moving back to his gurney and plopping himself down with a satisfied huff.

Will slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth pulling your face up towards him and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You alright?" He asks as he rubs your back soothingly.

You're too winded to speak and can only absent-mindedly nod towards him. He fixed his trousers before leaning over and helping you pull your own bottoms up.

"C'mere," he coos, pulling you onto the gurney with him cuddling you with his free arm.

"You did so good. So, so good, baby. " he kisses your shoulder and gently rubs your hip where Ettore had dug into your flesh.

You jump from the gurney quickly as you hear the deep voices of the guards nearing the door. Running over to Ettore and sliding his cuff back onto the metal bar of the gurney and popping it in place, hoping they wouldn't notice that it is broken.

You fix your hair as quick as you can and wipe the tears out from under your eyes as the door swings open.

"Everything go alright in here?" one of the guards asks, hardly looking at you before moving over to Ettore and unlocking his cuff.

"Yes," you clear your throat, trying to make sure to hide any hint of your dazed and satisfied condition.

"They are both fine and cleared to go back to their cells." You wave your hand towards the door dismissively. Your ultimate goal is to get all of these men out of your exam room immediately.

Ettore is removed first. He says nothing just drags his eyes up and down your frame once more before being dragged out the door.

Will, on the other hand, smiles toward you as he is led out behind him.

"Next time I'm coming alone!" He yells just as the door closes.

You sit down in your chair winded, confused and aching.

"Next time?"

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[phfenomena]

❝soon you’ll get better. ❞ william h. bonney x f!reader

| A/N- just imagine billy taking care of you when you’re sick <33 he’d be so sweet i’ll literally cry

| WARNINGS- sickness, talk of death,

william h. bonney x reader fluff

your throat burned when you attempted a deep breath, and your nose felt like you were breathing through a wall. your body temperature was too hot but you felt entirely contrary to that. as you lay shivering and complaining in your mind of the pure unbridled annoyance you feel that out of all people you got sick.

billy had stepped out almost an hour ago saying he needed to grab some more things for you, but you couldn’t care less about what he thought you needed. you just needed him.

he comes in clumsily setting each bag and box of food you apparently needed. you slightly smile at the sound of things falling and his boots quickly moving around the wooden floor. you hear boxes and cans opening, and him swearing after he touches the boiling pot on accident.

you laid there on your side phasing in and out of consciousness as you wait for billy to be done with whatever he thought was important. you hear his boots approaching you and you lift your head up. he squats next to the bed and shows you his creation.

“it’s a potato and carrot soup, my ma used to make it when i got sick as a young’n. it’s like magic, just helps you recover real quick. the doctor said you’ve got a common cold, and i’d like to keep it common.” he brushes hair out of her eyes and sets his hand on your head. “i don’t know what i’d do without you, darling. sickness has taken away everyone from me and i won’t let it take you too. i’d go to the ends of the earth if there was an instant cure.” his eyes were soft and his eyebrows were furrowed. he laid a gentle kiss against your forehead.

you began to slowly sit up and let billy feed you small spoonfuls of the ‘magic’ soup. his gaze never leaving your face and his eyebrows never relaxing. you begin to feel guilty because he was doing something important, he wanted you to get better so he made you soup. a true gentleman. you thought.

“thank you, it’s really good.” you manage to croak out before he shushes you and comfortingly rubs his hand over your back. “save your voice, angel. it’s not good to be talkin’ in your condition.” you nod and continue eating the soup when his hand offers it.

“i ran into jesse when i was at the store, he said this colds been a real problem lately. most of the towns got it but it hasn’t taken anyone away yet, and you’re the strongest person here so i’m sure you’ll be alright, doll.” he sounded like he was comforting himself more than you but nevertheless you still nod and offer a small smile to him.

the next morning after a restless night full of billy holding you close, not caring if he got sick, you open your eyes and momentarily forget you were even sick the previous day. feeling alert and not freezing, you sat up and stretched. billy instantly following suit and eyeing you over. “how you feeling, angel?” his worried gaze studying every bit of you. “i feel fine, billy. stop worrying so much. stress isn’t good for you.” you quietly say, not used to talking, as you rub your thumbs over his furrowed eyebrows smoothing them out.

he chuckles and you’ve never been happier to see his smile. “cant help it when it comes to you, and i did tell you the soup was magic, did i not?” he says quickly forgetting the tender moment and instantly wanting his gratification. you narrow your eyes and look unamused. “yes billy. you did. i’ll have to make it for you the next time you get sick, you don’t get sick very often but i’ll have it on stand by.”

you come inside after wiping your boots off and heaving heavily from the heat. you were outside picking weeds and planting carrots and potatoes in the garden from the soup leftovers. there billy lay on the bed, groaning.

“i’m so damn cold and my head hurts. what’s wrong with my throat it feels so itchy.” he complains in an almost whining tone. you laugh as you approach him and press the back of your hand to his forehead.

“well, cowboy. you’re sick. seems you’ve contracted that common cold you talked about, get under the blankets and i’ll make the soup.” he dramatically turns over and looks at you with a grumpy facial expression. “this is your fault.” you hum and pat his head before stepping into the kitchen, laughing at how dramatic he is.

[justagayperson-2024]

Sexual frustration Olivia Benson x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1589

Enjoy!

You stormed into the precinct, slamming the current case files onto your desk with a loud thump. Your frustration and exhaustion were evident as you slumped into your chair with a huff and a sigh. The cold coffee from the night before still sat on your desk, mocking you with its stagnant judgmental gaze. But it was nothing compared to the icy stare of your partner, Olivia Benson. "What?" You asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as you looked at her. "Nothing," she snapped back, avoiding your gaze and burying herself in her own case file. Confused and irritated, you decided to let it go and focused on finding leads and combing through evidence for the case.

As hours passed by, Olivia's behaviour towards you only worsened. She was being downright hostile and you had no idea why. Your partnership with Olivia was unconventional, to say the least - you were friends with benefits, using sex as an outlet for the horrors you witnessed on the job. But lately, things had been strained due to the hectic workload at the precinct. You thought everything was fine between you two until now. "For god's sake, Y/N!" Olivia's sharp voice cut through your thoughts. "Can't you keep your desk clean? Your shit is spilling over onto my side!" Looking at your desk, you saw that the so-called 'shit' was just a stray crisp packet that had accidentally crossed over to her side by half an inch. Annoyed and fed up with her attitude, you moved it back to your side and stood up to confront her.

"Can we talk in private?" You asked in a low but firm tone. Olivia nodded, and together you both went to the crib - a small room filled with cots. "What's your problem today?" You demanded, stepping closer to her with a stern expression. She backed away and shook her head, avoiding your gaze. "Liv, please. What's wrong? Did I do something? Is it someone else?" You pressed, taking a seat next to her on the small bed. The tension between you both was palpable. “It’s nothing, Y/N. Just forget about it,” she mutters wearily, trying to stand up. But you refuse to let her leave without an explanation. You grip her wrist tightly and pull her back down, your voice rising in anger. “No, we can’t just brush this off. You’ve been treating me like dirt all day and I demand to know why. What have I done to deserve this kind of treatment?” Your voice is soft but laced with frustration and hurt. Her eyes softened at your tone of voice and she debated whether to open up about her embarrassing frustration or fight until you let this go. A guttural growl escapes her throat, "Fuck!" she curses, her voice dripping with frustration and desperation. You can't help but smirk slyly, enjoying the primal noise. "Oh how I've missed that sound," you say, playfully nudging her shoulder. But instead of smiling back, her face twists into a deep red blush, almost as if it's burned with embarrassment. She buried her face into her hands and shook her head softly, “shut up.” you barely heard her say, her words muffled by her hands. You wrapped a strong arm around her waist, gently pulling her into your embrace, "Darling, please tell me what's troubling you. I want to help." You gently nuzzled her cheek with your nose in hopes of comforting her. Olivia sighed deeply, her body relaxing slightly in your embrace. She turned to face you, her brown eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "It's... it's been weeks, Y/N," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Weeks since we've been together, since we've had any time alone. This case has been consuming us, and I just... I miss you." Your heart clenched at her admission. You hadn't realized how much the distance had been affecting her, how much she craved your touch. "Oh, Liv," you murmured, cupping her face gently. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know." She leaned into your touch, her eyes closing briefly. "I've been so on edge, so frustrated. And seeing you every day, it's been driving me crazy” You brought her onto your lap and positioned her so she was sitting on top of you. , “Why didn't you say anything? I thought you where doing okay with out our time’s together.” you whispered, nuzzling against her neck. She let out a soft sigh and leaned her head back, "I thought so too, but then I realized I wasn't okay." She mumbled. You suddenly felt a surge of desire course through you, “Do you want to?” You asked, moving a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. Your hands instinctively tightened on her hips, pulling her closer. Olivia shivered in your arms, her fingers threading through your hair. "Y/N," she breathed, her voice husky with need. "We shouldn't... not here." But even as she protested, her body betrayed her. She ground her hips against yours, eliciting a low groan from your throat.

You trailed kisses along her jawline, savoring the taste of her skin. "No one will come in," you murmured, your hands slipping under her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back. "We can be quick." Olivia's resolve crumbled as your lips found her pulse point. She let out a soft moan, tilting her head to give you better access. "God, Y/N," she whispered, her fingers tightening in your hair. "I've missed this so much." Your hands roamed her body, reacquainting yourself with every curve and dip. The familiar warmth of her skin under your fingertips sent shivers down your spine. You captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring weeks of pent-up desire into it. Olivia responded with equal fervour, her tongue dancing with yours as she rocked against you. The friction was delicious, but not enough. You needed more. With a swift movement, you flipped her onto her back on the small bed, hovering over her. Your eyes locked, both dark with lust. “So that’s why you had such an attitude, eh? Just needed a good fucking to pacify you?” You murmured sweetly, kissing down her neck, nipping and marking her gently. Olivia gasped at your words, her body arching into yours. "Y/N," she moaned softly, her hands clawing at your back. You smirked against her skin, relishing the effect you had on her. "Tell me what you need." Your hands worked quickly, unbuttoning her shirt and pushing it open to reveal her lace-covered breasts. You palmed them roughly, eliciting another moan from her lips. "I need you," she whispered urgently, her hips bucking against yours. "I need you to touch me, to fuck me. Please, Y/N." The desperation in her voice sent a jolt of arousal through you. You slid a hand down her body, deftly unbuckling her belt and slipping beneath the waistband of her slacks. You pulled down her slacks to reveal her matching panties with a visible wet patch. “Oh beautiful girl, look at you all worked up and soaked for me.” Your fingers traced the outline of her underwear, teasing her through the damp fabric. Olivia whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed in search of more contact. You revelled in her desperation, loving how responsive she was to your touch after weeks apart. "Patience, darling," you murmured, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "I want to savour this." You pushed her panties aside and slid your fingers through her folds. She was hot and slick, her arousal coating your fingers. You circled her clit slowly, drinking in the soft gasps and moans falling from her lips. "Shh," you murmured, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss to muffle her sounds. "We need to be quiet, remember?" Olivia nodded, biting her lip to stifle a moan as you slipped two fingers inside her. You set a steady rhythm, curling your fingers to hit that spot that made her see stars. Your fingers moved skilfully inside Olivia, stroking and caressing as you built her pleasure. Her hips rocked against your hand, desperate for more friction. You pressed your thumb to her clit, rubbing tight circles as you pumped your fingers faster. "Oh god, Y/N," Olivia gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so close already."  You smirked, "Let go for me, beautiful," you murmured, nipping at her earlobe. "I want to feel you cum" Olivia's body tensed, her inner walls clenching around your fingers as her orgasm washed over her. You swallowed her cry with a deep kiss, your fingers working her through the aftershocks.

When she finally stilled, you slowly withdrew your hand letting her get used to the empty feeling. You gently kissed Olivia's flushed cheeks as she came down from her high, her breath still coming in short pants. "Feel better?" you murmured, nuzzling her neck. "Much," she sighed contentedly, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "But what about you?" You shook your head, pressing a finger to her lips. "This was about you, love. We can take care of me later. Olivia's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Promise?" As you both straightened your clothes and fixed your hair, Olivia caught your hand. "Y/N," she said softly, "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you.” You shake your head and kiss her cheek softly, “It’s okay just next time, talk to me baby.” 

[coveted-covey]

Word count: 2,161

Living near a beach all their life ideally would have made anyone develop a better immune system than most. 

There’s the warmth of the ever-loving sun, the salty ocean breeze, the fun things you could do on the beach. With that said, you really don’t know what got you bedridden since yesterday night.

*Ah-choo!!*

You quickly grab a tissue from your bedside table, bringing it to your face to blow your nose pitifully. A cough quickly follows suit, shaking your whole being. You gingerly toss the balled up tissue to the bin except that you miss it by a couple of feet. Head throbbing from the hard cough you just had, you huff in annoyance as you slather your hands with the hand sanitizer you have on you.

“Goddd, I hate being sick.”

That seems to be the cue for Mom to knock and come in with a tray of what you could only guess as chicken noodle soup, a glass of water, and medicine. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

You whine despite yourself. “Bad,” you try to sit up slowly when another sneeze hunches your upper body. “Ugh, very bad.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” she sets the tray on your bedside table then reaches out to feel your forehead using the back of her hand. She hums thoughtfully, “Still hasn’t gone down. Here, eat. The warm soup should make you feel better.” 

She adjusts the pillow behind you and you uncurl your back as she does so. “Where’s Ma?”

Your Mom sniffs and dabs fake tears from her eyes. “You look for Ma while I’m right here? You hurt my feelings, [Name].” 

The scowl you’re wearing must have worked (as much as a half-hearted scowl could) because she adds right after a small endearing sigh, “She had to go to work. You know that she’d have wanted to be here taking care of you instead of going to work, but I already took the day off. You’ll see her this afternoon, okay?” She fixes your hair and kisses your forehead softly.

“Okay. Thank you,” you try to clear your throat. “I’ll feed myself, Mom, no need to worry.” She laughs at that. 

With the food set up on the bed tray, she stands up then gestures to the door. “Then I’ll be outside if you need me.” 

You make a noncommittal sound then start spooning the soup to eat. It’s good. Warm and soothing. You are on your fifth spoonful when you hear the doorbell ring muffledly from the first floor. 

“Hi, Cove!” You hear your Mom’s voice greet the visitor. Your ears instantly perk up at that. Cove? There was a bit of a hushed discussion and then you hear the door close.

Did he leave? You pout at the thought. Maybe Mom made him leave because you're sick. You frown harder at that. But you want to see him…

The spoon is halfway to your mouth once again when you hear a soft knock from the other side of your door. “[Name]? It’s Cove.”

“C-Cove!” you almost choke at your words when a hack disrupts your speech. “Come” –a cough– “in–”

The door opens, your neighbor’s wavy eyebrows downturned as he surveys you.  “I’m here… Are you okay?”

You chuckle at that. “As okay as someone could be with their immunocytes fighting for their life.” 

He laughs airily, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. “I heard that you were sick. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You look at your phone five steps away from your bed and he follows your gaze. “Something about my phone being literally out of my reach.” You turn to him, “How did you know I’m sick?”

“Liz.” 

“Oh– I may or may not have been complaining to her about wanting to see you but not being able to.” 

“Oh… I was actually almost sent away just now, but I also wanted to see you so I tried to convince your mom to let me stay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Thanks for staying.”

“No problem.”

You blink at him, his gaze locked onto your eyes. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t quite place. Almost like–but maybe it’s just your fever making you see things–

“I’m sorry we can’t hang out,” you shift awkwardly. “Weren’t you planning on doing something today?”

He breaks off his gaze from you and moves to bring your desk chair beside your bed. “It’s alright. I-it’s not as fun without you around.”

You look down at the soup starting to cool off on your tray, feeling your cheeks become hotter for some reason. “...I see.” You bite your lip, still not looking up.

Cove sits on the chair and looks at the poster on the opposite wall. “You should probably finish the soup.” 

You regard him, a bit incredulous. “You gonna watch me eat?”

It’s then that you notice he’s not looking at you and that his ears and neck are redder than when he got sunburnt that one time he stubbornly did not put on sunscreen. That only happened once, in your younger years, and you never saw it happen again. Maybe he stayed too long outside before coming to your house. You open your mouth to speak when he responds: 

“Well, not watch watch, that would be weird–! I just thought it’d be nice to hang out here, for a bit, since you can’t go outside and all. And I don’t have to stay if you’d rather be alone; I totally understand–” he gestures wildly, and you feel your hand stretching out to his gesticulating hands.

“Calm down, Cove,” you laugh softly. “I want you here. I mean,” you clear your throat, “Yes, of course we can hang out. Though I’m kind of worried about you catching whatever I have right now.”

Your neighbor stills, looking fixedly at your hand touching his wrist. Then he looks up, seagreen eyes wavering a bit. Softly, he says, “I think I’ll be fine. I’ll stay.”

You grin at him, reluctantly letting go of his wrist. “So what were you doing before coming here?”

He smiles back, then regales you of stories about what he did earlier today as you finish up your chicken noodle soup and take your medicine.

~*~

You fell asleep.

Cove looks at your sleeping figure, seemingly deep in thought. He breathes out a laugh when you wrinkle your nose in your sleep. 

Cute. 

Huh, what?

Man, he should get it together.

He sighs, defeated. There’s something that’s been bothering him lately. 

It’s you. 

He can’t seem to stop thinking about you lately, and it’s driving him insane. 

He finds himself staring at you more. He blames it on how bright and captivating your smile is.

He finds himself itching to touch you more. But you’re best friends. You do touch platonically quite a lot. You hold hands when necessary. (When he helps you go up the poppy hill. When he helps you go down to the beach. When you go to town during the peak summer season and he doesn’t want to lose you in the not-quite-a-crowd crowd. Those are what he considers necessary.) And you do hug. Side hugs are quite normal in your friendship, but lately he does not seem to want to let go.

It’s you, on his mind, 24/7. He’s not sure for how much longer he can take it.

You shift in your sleep, kicking off your blanket. His mind stops whirring at that and stands up to gently put the blanket back over your exposed feet.

Inching his chair closer, he eyes your hand over the blanket and sighs again for the hundredth time in the past hour. 

He wants to hold your hand so bad.

But it’s just right there, open for the taking. He’s almost sure you wouldn’t mind him holding your hand, but doing it while you’re asleep and unaware is making him doubt that.

His hands tremble on his lap. 

He’s gonna do it.

His heart beats faster inside his ribcage and sweat beads on his neck. Slowly and steadily, he outstretches his hand until the pads of his fingers lightly touch the back of your hand. Gently, he flips your hand over then clasps your hand in his.

He wills his heart rate down then marvels at you.

Smiling to himself, he stands and leans down to press a light kiss on your temple.

“Feel better soon, [Name].”

With that soft get well soon wish, he sits back down, your hand in his hand.

Maybe one day he’ll be able to confess his feelings for you. And he’ll get to do it while you’re awake.

~*~

.

.

.

You blink blearily, seeing your bedroom walls shining with a bright orange-pink glow from your window. With a deep sigh, you look at the digital clock you have on your bedside table. It reads 5:37 PM.

Must’ve fallen asleep sometime after eating– And. 

Oh, right! Cove was here.

Your eyes look around, trying to get back to the waking world. Did he leave already?

That’s when you notice a weight on your hand, then you look to your side to see your neighbor, Cove James Holden, asleep, using one arm as a pillow as his other hand holding yours. His seagreen hair almost looked golden due to the sunset hues coming from the window behind him.

Like a moth to a flame, you can’t help but draw your other hand close to touch his hair. You’re about to pat his head when you feel his hand lightly grip the hand in his hold. “[Name]?”

You smile awkwardly at him, caught red handed. You clear your throat. “Uh, good evening?”

He grins at you drowsily, taking your other hand and letting it flop on his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you smile softly. Better since you came here. 

“Hmm, that’s good,” he yawns. “Sorry, I fell asleep here.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Ha, you’re right,” he laughs, eyes shining as he beholds you. “[Name].”

“Hmm?” You continue stroking his now-golden hair, a soft smile on your face.

He looks at you seriously and you see the gears in his head turn and finally decide against what he initially planned. He shakes his head, looking down at your joined hands. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

You nod sagely, then give him a light grin. “It’s okay… Feel free to tell me when you’re ready.”

“I will. When I’m ready.”

With hands comfortable in each other's, the both of you sit in contemplative silence; it's quiet but not uncomfortable. For a brief moment only the rolling waves from the beach and your soft breathing were the only sounds you can hear, then you ask,

“Hey, you did not use the window,” you tease.

He grins, gently pushing stray hair from your eyes, “You're practically bedridden, would you have opened it for me still?”

“Yes.”

Maybe it's because of the way you looked while you said it, or the fact that the answer quickly left your mouth, but your response startles a laugh out of Cove. “I figured. Which is why I didn't. Shouldn't disturb resting patients and all that.” He laughs fondly, adjusting his hold on your now sweating palms. He does not seem to want to let go despite that.

You pout. Is he making fun of you? 

“Sorry, I'm not making fun of you,” he lightly grins, his thumb rubbing at your hand soothingly. “I just really didn’t want to disturb you while you're resting.”

Your heart rate speeds up and your face heats up at his soft admission, leaving you no choice but to look away. God, you really, really hate being sick. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you, because why is he looking at you like that?

Him and his soft eyes and soft grin and soft hair and soft demeanor looking at you like he’s…

…

“What a charmer,” you mutter under your breath.

Your neighbor’s wavy eyebrows shoot up at that, “What?” His lips wobble into a startled frown and whines, “Hey, I was being serious you know.”

You sigh, then slowly shift yourself up. You do not miss the way Cove immediately stands to help you, his hand still holding yours. You take in the hold he has on you then at him as he settles back down once you’re comfortably sitting up.

“Cove.”

“Hmm?”

You laugh at the feeling of deja vu. Didn’t this happen just a few minutes earlier? You grin at him. “Nothing, I guess I’ll tell you when you’re ready to tell me what you were about to tell me earlier.” You lightly squeeze his hand in yours to tell him that you’re not making fun of him. 

It may be too soon, but you hope he tells you tomorrow when you’re fully recovered.

fic by @coveted-covey (2024).

a/n: slowly experimenting with formatting and stuff. i'm still not sure what i'm doing but i'm getting there! lol

[hearts4hughes]

hits different | trevor zegras

(trevor zegras x fem! reader)

a/n: i’ve had this idea in my notes forever, and i’ve just managed to finish it😭 it took wayyyy too long, but i’m proud of this!

warnings: intoxication, alcohol, angst, light swearing

the pulsating bass reverberates through your body as you stand at the bar, drink in hand, trying to wash your hands of the memories of a love gone wrong. your mind drifts to the mess that trevor made of you and the hurtful images that linger in your thoughts.

you wondered if he had already moved on. if he was cooking for another girl at his apartment, or if he had strolled through the streets of anaheim with her hand in hand. had he forgotten about you? three years of love washed down the drain like dirt and filth as he confided in another woman with his love. just the mere thought sends waves of nausea through your body.

it didn’t make sense. you thought breaking up with him was the right decision, but since then, all you’ve felt was pure heartbreak.

it all started with the duck’s bad season. he was frustrated and stressed. he thought he was the problem- even though he wasn’t- and he went into an emotional hole. at the time, you didn’t understand what was happening. you thought he fell out of love with you, so as hard as it was, you broke up with him. the second the words flew off your tongue, he broke down- sobbing, yelling, begging, anything that would help you stay.

you can't help but reflect on how you used to move on so easily, like switching out partners and escaping town, but everything feels different now. the bars you visit play songs that remind you of what once was, and it hurts like nothing you've experienced before.

“y/n,” julia calls out, snapping you back into reality, “you have to stop thinking of him, it’s not going to help.” her hand rubs comfortingly up and down your back. you look at her, your face completely blank of emotion. it’s easier said than done to forget about someone who preoccupied so much of your time, and the alcohol in your system isn’t helping.

“i know, i just,” you stammer, “i just can’t escape him. it’s like he’s haunting me. everywhere i look i’m reminded of the memories we made.” she looks at you with pity.

“love is a lie, babe. you know this already.” she says- the same thing she’s been telling you since forever. “remember when you broke up with aaron?” she asks and you nod in response. “you thought he was the one and that you’d never ever move on, but after a little bit you did. you just need to give it time and you’ll get over him.”

whining, you grab your shot, throwing your head back and downing it. your nose scrunched as the alcohol burned down your throat. “but what if i don’t want to get over him, jul? i don’t want to forget about him. i just want to be with him, i just want trevor.” your words were slurred- almost incoherent.

people around you began to stare and watch the unfolding scene. protectively, julia brought you into a hug, shielding your face from everyone before they saw your tears. “let’s get you home, honey.” she cooed, wrapping her arm around your waist and helping you out of your seat.

-

julia brought you home, making sure you got into your house safely before driving away. you swung the front door open and stumbled into your apartment. the digital clock on the wall read 2:20am. you ripped off your heels, discarding them somewhere in your living room, and walking into your bedroom. your hair was a frizzy mess, lipstick smudged, mascara smeared everywhere, but you could care less.

you find yourself alone in your room, surrounded by memories of the past, with one particular item catching your eye- trevor’s hat. it sits on a shelf, seemingly untouched since the day you parted ways. the sight of it evokes a rush of bittersweet emotions, and you can't help but pick it up, feeling its fabric against your fingertips. the hat holds a piece of him, a piece of the love you once shared, and the weight of the memories is overwhelming.

as you hold the hat in your hands, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. memories of your time together flood your mind – the laughter, the inside jokes, the intimate moments shared under that very hat. you miss him, and the feeling intensifies with each passing day. the warmth and comfort that his presence once brought into your life are now a distant memory.

you bring the hat close to your chest, hugging it tightly as if it was him. the scent of his cologne, faint but still lingering, brings you back to those tender moments when he would embrace you, and your heart aches.

with each tear that falls, you let yourself feel the grief, the longing, and the emptiness that comes with a wound that hasn’t completely healed. you find yourself whispering his name into the fabric, wishing he were there, holding you.

suddenly, you hear a key turning in the door down the hallway. is it him? is it trevor? or has julia come to take you away from your apartment and the suffocating reminders of him?

the door closes and you hear footsteps approaching your room. the footsteps become louder as the mystery person gets closer. you close your eyes, not bothered to know who it is; however, a small part of you hopes, even wishes that it’s him.

“love?” he calls out, causing your eyes to shoot open. you see him standing in the doorway- a blurry version of him due to the alcohol and crying. a frown adorns his lips as he looks down at you. your tear stained face and bloodshot eyes give him a hint of what you were just doing. “oh y/n,” he coos, making his way over to you and repositioning you into his lap.

his arms snake around your body, pulling you close to his chest. you open your mouth to say something, but the words get caught in your throat. he presses reassuring kisses to the top of your head as you cry into his embrace.

"i’m so sorry, y/n," he whispers, his voice filled with remorse. "i messed up, and i’ve been a mess ever since you left." you try to find the right words to say, but your emotions are too overwhelming, your heart too raw. instead, you bury your face in his chest, holding on to him as if he might slip away again.

"fuck, i thought you moved on," you manage to say through your tears, your voice shaking. "all i could imagine was you with another girl, trev.”

he sights, gently rubbing your back. "no, love, there hasn't been anyone else. i’ve been miserable without you. you were always the one."

“i thought you had fallen out of love with me, that’s why i broke up with you.” your voice trembles with hurt as he feels a pang of guilt in his heart.

his expression softens, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "i was going through a rough time, and I didn't know how to handle it. i thought i was the problem, and i didn't want to bother you with my struggles. i never meant to hurt you." you move your head away from his body, staring deeply into his eyes. he’s been crying too. in that moment, you realize that he's hurting too, and maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for healing and forgiveness.

"i miss you, trevor," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "my friends try to take me out to have fun and get drunk, but i always end up slurring your name until someone puts me in a car. they’re going to stop inviting me soon.” you joke- a coping mechanism you’ve had since you were young.

he lets out a small laugh, bringing his hand up to wipe away stray tears, “i’m here now," he replies, "and i want to try again, to make things right. i love you, and my life is a fucking wreck without you."

“i love you too,” your voice is soft and sincere. a smile graces his lips and for the first time since forever, your lips connect with his, reviving what you thought was gone.

[noisilyeclecticmilkshake]

Vulnerable

“Here, some water.” Caretaker held out a glass toward the bed.

“I told you guys I’m fine.” Hero said to the room now full with his team. He sat up, failing to keep his breaths even as the pain in his side flared up. He could feel another cold sweat coming on even from the small movement.

“You can’t even sit up without wincing, You clearly aren’t thinking straight, now drink the water, you’ve been sweating all day. You need it.” Caretaker said sternly, holding the glass closer to Hero.

“I’m thinking clearly enough to know that’s drugged.” Caretaker’s surprised expression was quickly replaced with annoyance. “That’s what you do to unruly patients right?” Caretaker was a known take-no-bullshit doctor. If someone needed medical attention they were going to get it. Whether they wanted it or not. 

“Yeah, you might be thinking clearly enough, but if you’re really okay, then my next request shouldn’t be a problem for you.” Hero’s breath quickened as Caretaker turned to the group, what were they going to do? 

Hero’s thoughts were quickly answered. “Sorry guys, but do you mind holding him down?” The team nodded solemnly and Caretaker turned back to Hero, whose thoughts were already on escape. “Evidently I’m going to have to make you drink this.” On a good day, Hero more than outmatched his team. Hell, even on a bad day he could hold them off for a while, but today? Today was a horrible, terrible, awful day. He thought he could try bargaining. “Wait, don’t do this!” But the team advanced, ignoring his pleas.

He attempted to get up instead, but before he could even swing his legs over the edge of the bed, hands were on him, holding him down. It hurt. Whatever poison was in the dagger Villain stabbed him with was affecting every nerve. “Stop, please.” He could feel his erratic beating heart and his lungs that tried to keep up. “You’re hurting me.” His voice came out strained. He could hear his team's apologies, but they didn’t let up. He tried kicking, but his ankles were held tight, and whoever it was used the rest of their body to sit on his knees. He leaned forward in an attempt to push them off but was pulled back immediately by rough hands on his shoulders pinning him against bed. His wrists were next, pushed into the bed as another team member straddled his torso, unknowingly putting weight directly on his wound. He cried out involuntarily and saw black spots at the edge of his vision. Any movement threatened to pull him into oblivion without the help of Caretakers concoction.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you don’t tell your team you’ve been poisoned and let it fester for 2 days. Now open up.” With his team's entire weight on him he resolved to clenching his jaw and turning his head away from Caretaker and the drugged water. Caretaker sighed “We don’t have to do it like this. Just let me treat your wounds and I promise I won’t shove this water down your throat.” But he couldn’t. Hero couldn’t let anyone see him that weak, that vulnerable, no matter how much he knew he needed the help. Even if he could feel the poison making its way to his bones. He could feel his face turning red from how vulnerable he already was, and made that way by his team no less, Hero just turned his head further, clenched his jaw harder. “Fine, have it your way, but you know this is for your own good.” Caretaker pinched Hero’s nose. He tried to move away, but that sent another wave of agony as his wound was aggravated again. Another involuntary scream cut off by sudden off-tasting water that he couldn't reject, his body’s automatic response swallowing the drug.

“Should we let him go now?” Sidekick asked, she noticed how erratic his breathing had become when she sat on his torso, but had stayed where she was, not wanting to cause even further pain by moving.

“No, the sedative should kick in pretty soon, especially since he hasn't eaten all day, and he’ll probably hurt himself trying to leave if you don’t keep holding him down.” Caretaker hated that, they knew why Hero didn’t want to be treated, and that this was hell for them. If they had just taken the damn water the first time it wouldn’t have had to be like this. 

Caretaker was right about the quick acting sedative. It had only been a couple of minutes and Hero could already his limbs start to get heavier, his fingers started to slack and he felt himself start to panic all over again, it was an unwelcome, familiar feeling, even after a year. Unfortunately the panic did not give him strength to overcome the three people holding him down, and most of it was dampened by the mind-numbing fog settling over him. His limbs were lead, but he started to feel a strange, contrasting weightlessness, tried to protest the drug, but his lips were as heavy as his legs and all that came out was a slur of words “No... I-please... nghh...” Hero tried sitting up again, he didn’t remember why he’d laid down in the first place, but he could only move his head. He looked up to see a blurry sidekick and he could hear faint apologies as he tried to ask why Sidekick was over him, everything was hazy and there was a faint throbbing in his side. Something far away made a noise and he felt some weights being lifted off of him. 

“Okay, I think he’s out. You guys can go now.” Caretaker said once it was clear that Hero was not going to fight treatment. 

“Are you sure? I can help, it must be a pretty nasty poison if it’s weakened him this much.” Tank said.

Caretaker did want help, but they knew Hero never wanted his team to see him like this, plus the scars would lead to a lot of questions about Hero’s past that neither of them wanted to answer. “No, I’ll be fine. I have a strong suspicion of what it was that Villain used.” With that, the team left and Caretaker got to work, the drug wasn’t going to make Hero pass out, he would remain semi-conscious, it was better this way. He would come to with vague memories instead of a complete time skip, and hopefully Hero wouldn’t hate Caretaker as much this way. They cleaned the wound and used some ointment before starting to sew it up. 

The sight of light shining on metal stirred something in Hero, memories of his time with Villain, the surgeries, waking up with unknown changes, things missing or added, sometimes waking up with unnecessary wounds only there to cause pain. He didn’t want this, not again. “Whumper, please.” His breathing was as erratic as it could get under sedation. “W-Why? What’re you-” He was cut off by a caring hand in his hair. Soft reassurances that were surely lies. “No, please.” He tried to scoot away but was held in place and could only watch as a needle was pulled through into and through his wound, again and again. Something in the back of his mind registered that there was no pain, another part of him knew that he would feel this when he woke up, back in the room that reminded him of his predicament with every sense. The sight of the blood-stained mattress only imbedded more permanently with the intense metallic smell he couldn’t escape. 

Caretaker worked as quickly as they could. It really would be easier if Hero was out completely, but this would have to do. They didn’t expect him to have so much fight, but the sight of the needle sent him in an attempt to roll off the bed. They steadied him and went to work on Hero, sewing up the wound. He didn’t stop trying to get away, nor did he stop protesting, until several minutes after the stitches were complete. Trying to soothe him only seemed to make matters worse, so Caretaker simply held him until they were sure he wouldn’t rip his stitches. The drug only lasted an hour and Caretaker could tell it had worn off when Hero’s wavering voice rang through the quiet room.

“You promised.” Hero meant for their voice to sound angrier than it did. He hoped the betrayal got through at least.

It did. 

“I know.” Caretaker couldn’t meet Hero’s eyes, they didn’t regret what they’d done, but it didn’t feel good, betraying their friend after all he had been through. Still, they defended their position. “I figured though, you dying makes that promise void.” 

“Just leave.” Hero was struggling to push invading memories out of his mind, and wanted Caretaker to leave before he failed completely. They had already seen him more vulnerable than he ever wanted.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Never Quite Enough

Part 5

Billy Russo x Reader

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Warnings: Angst, insomnia, more angst.

"Can I confess something to you?" Matt asks.

You look up from your phone in surprise, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. He's dressed in his crisp white shirt and suit pants, his jacket somewhere nearby. 

He looks pristine, but you know you prefer his undressed look even more, the sight of his bare chest was a soothing balm on the open wound that was your life.

You wait patiently for his words.

"I think... he really likes you. Genuinely." 

You let out a long sigh. 

"That sounds like his problem. I am done with him." You say quickly, on a harsh breath.

"Are you?" He challenges, with a calm tone.

You swallow, honestly, you didn't know.

It's been weeks. Nearly a month and a half since you broke up with him, the same amount of time you'd been together. 

Why was climbing out harder than falling in?

Something tugs in your chest, you let out a soft breath. You feel bad for letting one person comfort you for another person's actions.

"Matt." You say his name slowly, looking up at him, the space of his countertop between you.

You swallow.

"I'm sorry." You finally say.

"What for?"

"If I've- lead you on, or made you feel uncomfortable- please just tell me. I'd rather you tell me you're tired of me, than being forced to tolerate me."

He lets out a harsh breath, moves around the counter swiftly.

Before you can process it, your face is buried in his clothed chest.

He smells like the gentle lavender soap he uses, and you're too stunned to do anything other than breathe it in.

"You're not leading me on. I promise, and I'm not just tolerating you. I like you."

A little sob hiccups from your throat, the strength of his adoration pours into you, fills, overflows.

"I've been tolerated my whole life." You say into his chest, tears falling freely, "The first time I felt like I could exist was with him, and even that had been a lie." You grip the back of his shirt, sobbing into his chest.

He shushes you softly, his stubbled cheek pressed to the crown of your head.

His body tightens around you, it makes you feel worse, like you're forcing him to comfort you in some way. You cry harder.

Matt holds you through it, and when your violent shaking turns into little hiccups, he leans down to kiss your forehead, his thumb swiping at one cheek, to push your tears away.

"He's hurt you so badly, and It's up to you to decide whether that damage can be fixed or not. But you need to know that you're not tolerated, you're appreciated. By me...and by him."

"How do you know?" You protest, looking into his unfocused eyes.

"I heard him say it. To his friend, Frank, that day at the gala. I heard him tell Frank that he loves you."

You blink, drawing your head back in shock.

Love?

You sniffle, Matt's words have knocked the sadness right out of you, replacing it with surprise.

 You reach for a tissue sitting on the countertop.

"That can't be right." You hum, wiping at your nose, and dabbing at your cheeks. You'd have to re-do today's makeup before work.

"His actions were awful, and the things he did do not deserve forgiveness. But his feelings now are genuine." Matt says.

Now?

Your shoulders drop.

They hadn't been genuine before?

When he'd offered you one of his shirts to sleep in, on the very first night you'd slept over, the hidden eager look in his eyes... that had been fake?

Of course it was, your mind supplies, you feel like you're sinking lower with each thought.

Like a full tub being emptied, you feel the emotion drain right out of you.

You spend a solid moment like that, in disbelief at the emotion just leaving you, rejecting Matt’s last words without another second of consideration.

You part your lips, finally sucking in a deep breath that doesn’t hurt.

Your mouth parts wider in relief. 

For the first time, you feel true nothingness, and not the numbness of the refusal to process emotion that you were used to.

It's liberating, you close your eyes in bliss.

Somehow, you'd managed to turn your turbulent emotions off.

Like a switch, flipping inside you, centred around your confused feelings. Your brain doesn't know how to feel, so it stops feeling.

You know Matt wasn't the type of man to lie to you, it wasn't even in his nature to stretch the truth. He was a man that could only speak fact, and something said with this much surety could only be true.

But that didn’t mean you were capable of accepting his words. Instead you smile at him, wiping at your tears.

“I should get to work.” You respond, looking up at him with a small smile on your face.

.

The world around you is interesting, when you can’t feel a thing. Nothing matters, at all.

You smile at Dex easily, engaging him in conversation, a past version of you would probably be feeling absolutely hollow inside. Instead, you simply exist, only answering questions when you’re asked, smiling along to small talk.

There’s no sadness, or despair, or hate for yourself.

There’s nothing.

And nothing had to be better than everything all at once...right?

It’s peaceful now, your work gets done much faster, headphones on to help you focus, you feel like pushing yourself to see how much you’re capable of, only stopping for a few short breaks throughout the day.

It feels good, getting things done ahead of time, it makes you feel like you’re being efficient  in a space you’ve only felt desolation for a long while.

You only realise how late it is when the night cleaning crew shows up.

Only then you decide to amble on home, a bowl of ramen in your arms, tucked into your couch in the dark of the night before bed.

You don’t see Matt that night, probably busy at his own job, and you’re okay with that, knowing that you shouldn’t be using him as any type of emotional crutch in the first place.

The problem comes when you try to go to sleep.

You find that you can’t, you don’t feel sleepy. 

You toss and you turn and you sit up and you have tea and press the heels of your hands against your eyes and struggle with being awake when you should be asleep.

You have nothing to help you sleep, so you curl up in bed and close your eyes and pretend that you’re asleep until morning when your alarm goes off for work.

Silence and nothingness are your associates now, and however inconvenient, you prefer it to whatever was there before.

He loves you, your mind tries to interject during your morning routine, and you stop comically while brushing your teeth to stare dead ahead at yourself in the mirror.

Love… I barely know what that is, you answer.

You resume brushing your teeth.

You’re acutely aware that at some point, you’re probably going to crash. People aren’t made to be awake for long periods of time and feel this fine about it.

Being at work is pretty okay, and you don’t feel like ripping your hair out at the first inconvenience. 

It’s your second day of working late, and you’re dealing with it well. You’ve put your phone on do not disturb and with your headphones in, you’re lost in your own world of report reading and analysis.

Really, you should have known that letting your guard drop would tempt fate too much. The fickle way life tended to work around you should have had your walls up permanently.

But in your exhausted state, leaning against the wall gripping your bag with one hand while waiting for the elevator, it was hard to keep any sort of defense up.

So when someone says your name in mild surprise, the only response you can give is a raise of your head.

He looks as exhausted as you feel, and you wonder if he sees something similar in you. His jacket folded neatly over one arm, phone in his palm.

“Hey Mister Russo.” You say softly in greeting, straightening to take a step into the elevator.

He doesn’t say anything for a second as the doors close.

“It’s late.” He comments, and you turn your head to glance at him.

“Yes it is.” You agree, unable to stay steady on your feet, you lean against the wall of the elevator too.

“You look tired.”

You let out a slow breath.

“I’ll live.” You answer.

“We should talk.”

You groan, tilting your head back.

“You’re making me wish I’d taken another elevator.” 

“Let me drive you home.” He answers as if you hadn’t just expressed your distaste for him.

You raise your head to look at him angrily.

There were so many things you wanted to say. Leave me alone. Take a hike. I don’t want to talk to you. I’d rather chew nails that get into a car with you. Why are you looking at me like that? Do you love me?

In the end, you say nothing, and the doors to the elevators slide open, and you step out without even a goodbye.

The lobby is quiet, dimly lit, very much somber and lacking the life that there usually is during the daylight.

You only get a few steps out of the elevator before he’s blocking your path with his tall frame.

You huff, looking up at him, willing him to go away.

“Can we please talk? Please?”

You were so irritated with having to experience him and his constant persistence of you. You blink, angrily clenching your teeth together.

“Why? Why should I even give you a chance, Billy? So you can lie to me more? Hurt me more? What’s it going to take for you to realise that we’re over?”

He lets out a sharp breath.

“We have something. You know we do. There’s a voice inside you that tells you we’re right for each other. I hear it too.”

“You’re wrong,” You answer softly, “There’s no voice.”

He shakes his head.

“Don’t lie, don’t act like-” He cuts off, letting out a slow breath.

“Like what?” You prod.

“-Like you don’t care!” He hisses, “Stop acting like this was nothing.” He says, gesturing to the space between you.

“This was nothing.” You clarify.

He looks frustrated, all you can do is observe him with a casual tilt of your head.

“What you did was unforgivable. What could you possibly want from me now?” You follow up, after he’s unable to speak.

“Another chance.” He utters.

You raise your eyebrows.

“To do what?” You felt like you had to break this down for him like a child.

“To prove to you that my feelings were real,” He takes a step forward, getting closer to you and forcing you to tilt your head up to keep looking at him.

“To show you that I think you’re the best person on the planet. That we have something,” Billy’s hands raise to cup your face, his eyes dark, a void pulling you in, “worth fighting for.”

He leans in, and it only just registers in your tired brain that he’s going to kiss you.

“I have a boyfriend.” You whisper out in a rush in an effort to deter him.

His only response is a small smile.

“Break up with him.” he answers simply as his mouth meets your in a soft kiss.

It melts you, like it usually does. His bearded face creating tingles as it scratches against yours and for a moment you feel so whole.

And then you’re pushing him away, because you don’t deserve this, because you are not someone you believe is worth fighting for.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, unable to meet his eyes, “I just don’t believe in us the way you do.” You step to the side, and dodge his hand when he tries to grab your wrist.

He calls your name behind you as you leave, the sound is soft, pleading.

You don’t look back.

.

When he touches his lips, he can still feel you there.

Like you own his mouth, and now every kiss is yours, and every smile is for you.

He needs you, so badly that it hurts him.

There’s also a sober part of him that wishes he had the capacity to leave you alone, let you heal from him, leave him behind and move on with your life. But the selfish part of him, the part that fought for scraps in a house of too many people, that part of him clings to the love he has. 

In many ways he’s still a child, he acknowledges, always quietly hoping that someone could want him, listen to him, talk to him about every useless topic on the planet.

He’d found that in you. Someone to listen to him, not just give a vacant smile when he spoke, or roll their eyes, exhausted at his small, unpracticed attempts at conversation. 

He loved the little niche tidbits of information you knew, he was always learning something exciting, or something that made you light up when you spoke.

And then he’d- done that.

The little boy that never had anything, sabotaging his one chance at love because somewhere deep down inside, he didn’t know if he was really capable of it. Maybe he wasn’t. He’d never had it aimed in his direction really.

Who had loved him? Ever in his life? 

Frank was the closest thing he had to a brother, Billy had no doubt that the Castles loved him. 

And it was good, but it wasn’t enough. 

Now more than ever he knew that, lying awake, fingers pressed to his mouth where he could still feel the softness of your lips. He knew what being enough to someone had felt like.

He knew he’d do anything to have that again.

.

You can’t sleep at all.

It’s way worse than before.

Things had been okay when you couldn’t feel anything, but one kiss had brought it all back. Now, you were just sad all over again. 

Each time you kissed him, pulled you together, and each time you left him behind, you shattered even more.

Like glass that had been broken once, being hammered into splinters. You didn’t know how much of yourself had been damaged, beyond hope of repair already.

And yet still, you couldn’t forget him.

The soft heat of his touch, the sound of his breaths. You spend the entire night thinking about him, and wishing you could think about something, anything else.

.

There’s a box waiting on your desk when you get in the next morning.

It fits in your palm, wrapped in blue floral gift paper with a black bow on top. It screams Billy.

“That from Matt?” Dex asks, as he’s walking by and observes your handling of the gift.

“Probably.” You lie, tugging at the bow.

“Hope it’s something nice.” He wishes as he steps away, going back to whatever he was doing.

His wrapping is precise, no fold is haphazard, the bow sits right in the middle, perfectly equidistant from all edges.

It pulls a smile to your face. You almost don’t want to open it, the effort put into wrapping is a gift in itself.

You doubt Billy had given many gifts in his life- or even gotten them. He’d only mentioned it once that he didn’t have parents, and that he grew up in the system. You’d wanted to ask about it, but you’d never gotten a real chance.

You wanted to know how many gifts he'd gotten, how many happy birthdays.

You shouldn't care, it shouldn't matter to you, but it did.

You take the wrapping off carefully, wanting to preserve every bit of this, something that could be remembered later, savoured when you needed something to think of in the darkness of the night.

You tug the lid off the box quickly, eyes locking onto the shimmering gold in the box.

Your mouth parts in surprise.

It’s a simple present, butterfly hair clips in a gold colour. Each wing of the shiny butterfly is attached to the clip with a few small springs, it means that every slight movement makes the wings appear as though they’re fluttering.

All of a sudden, you’re a little girl again, staring at similar clips in someone else’s hair. You gulp, looking around for a note, an explanation as to why.

You’d only asked your parents once for them, and then never again.

His note is lodged beneath the lid of the box, and you take your time prying it out, opening it.

‘Saw these and thought of you.

-Billy

x.'

You blink back tears, looking at the delicate clips once more.

You don’t take them out of the box, despite how badly you want to. You settle for just running a careful finger over the fluttering wings, a quiet appreciation of something you’d forgotten you wanted.

The clips are so shiny that they were bound to catch attention, which was the last thing you wanted here. Maybe later, after everyone was gone, you could indulge yourself in trying them on.

It was a brilliant gift, something small and seemingly unimportant, and yet, an item that he hadn’t known you’d desired from the moment you first saw them.

Warm, something trickling into the very depths of you, a feeling you want, a feeling you yearn for. 

You reach for your phone, with calling him in mind, his extension seared to your memory and you just want to talk to him-

You slam the phone down just as fast. A few coworkers looking over at you in your peripherals.

Dread spills over inside of you, a paralysing fear that you were playing directly into his game, that this was a ploy, or even if it wasn’t, you couldn’t just go back to normal with him. He’d done something unforgivable, and you had to be rigid in your inability to absolve him of his actions.

He’d made a bet, with his friends, to see if he was capable of being in an exhausting relationship with you, because everyone thinks that you were annoying.

Because he thought that you were annoying.

You tuck his gift into the top drawer of your desk, letting the pain of his betrayal reorient you.

Billy Russo did not like you.

.

“Shit.” You curse, glancing at the time on your phone. You’d been so zoned into your computer that you hadn’t even noticed that the work day had been officially over for a while now. 

You sigh, leaning back, opening your top drawer to grab a page marker for the document you just sent to print. 

You spot the little gift box tucked into the back of the drawer and you can’t help the smile that pulls onto your face.

You drop everything you’re doing, reaching for the box happily. 

You take your time, pinning one clip to either side of your head to pull some of your hair back, opening your front camera to admire the little fluttering clips.

You loved the little things, delicate in your hair, glittering with the movement and the lights and you make a mental note to avoid the possibility of getting it tangled in your hair as best as possible.

You get distracted by the sound of the printer beeping in the distance to signal your print was completed and you get up to grab the file. 

A few hours later, you hear the elevator nearby make a small sound as it stops on your floor. You look up, alert and the awareness of how late it is makes you a little scared.

It’s him that rounds the corner, crisp suit, his jacket tucked under his arm. He pauses when he notices you, your eyes meeting, before a little smile pulls onto his face.

“I figured you’d be here.” He hums, approaching you.

You huff, glancing back at your computer screen.

“You just can’t seem to leave me alone, can you?” You bite back.

When he’s quiet for too long, standing beside you, you turn to look up at him.

There’s a strange expression on his face, something that washes the coldness inside of you away with gentle warmth.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep your voice harsh.

Why are you looking at me like that?

“You’re real fuckin’ pretty.” He answers.

You make a sound of annoyance, turning back to your computer to continue working on your excel sheet.

Do you love me?

Your fingers freeze on your keyboard when he kneels in your peripherals next to you.

What in God’s name was he doing?

You let out a harsh breath.

“Billy-”

His hand reaches to touch something in your hair, it’s only then you remember that you’re wearing the clips he gave you.

“-These look so much better on you than I’d imagined.” He whispers, turning a strand of your hair over between his fingers.

You look down, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’ve always wanted them, since I was little. My parents fought a lot, and I could never work up the courage to ask for them. Then, when I got older, I could never find them.” You glance up at him for a moment before looking away, “Thank you, I love them, but that doesn’t change anything between us.”

His eyebrows pull together sadly, a reflectiveness to his eyes that wasn’t there before.

Do you love me?

“You should go home, it’s late.”

You give him a tired smile.

“Yeah, I know, I just have a little bit more to do.”

“Do it tomorrow. You shouldn’t be here so late.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” You mutter absentmindedly, “I’m making you money.”

He grips your chair, turning it quickly away from your computer until you face him.

You meet his gaze with an annoyed look of your own.

“I have enough money.” He answers with a teasing expression. The corner of your lip twitches in amusement.

“Whatever.” You say, trying to turn your chair back to your computer, but he only grips it tighter to keep you in place. His eyes dart to your desk, and then he reaches for something, grabbing it off your desk and moving away quickly.

When you look back at your desk you notice your wireless mouse is missing.

“Hey!” You stand, taking a few steps toward him. He mirrors your movement, taking a few steps back as well.

“Give that back, Russo.” You warn, approaching him again, this time he doesn’t move, encouraging you to try getting closer to him again.

When you’re within grabbing range, he grins, hiding his hands behind his back.

“Shut down your computer and go home.” He tries again.

“Or what?” You challenge, reaching around to grab at his hands. He shifts the mouse from his left to his right hand quickly, forcing you to get even closer to him, to try grabbing it.

“Or I throw this thing out the window and unplug your computer.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You argue, gripping his fist in yours and trying to pry his fingers open.

He pulls his hand away from you easily, giving you an evil grin before raising his fist with your mouse above his head where you couldn’t possibly reach on your own.

You don’t even try to jump for it, only crossing your arms and looking up at him.

“I could knee you in the balls. I’d get it really quickly that way.” You threaten.

He tips his head back and laughs, and you find yourself smiling too. You take the chance, using the distraction to jump and grab his fist. 

But your attempt seemed to be exactly what he wanted because in the next moment his hand is on your waist, using your own momentum against you to spin you, switching positions so that he can press you against the wall that was just behind him.

You gasp, looking up at him in bewilderment. His scent floods your nose, reigniting an ache inside of you, one that yearned for him.

He watches you carefully, doesn’t do anything more than uncurl his fingers, so that you can get the mouse sitting in the palm of his hand.

You look at the mouse, and then back into his eyes, letting out a slow sigh, wishing for something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Thank you.” You say, taking the mouse from him, and ducking under his arm to slip out from between his body and the wall. 

Sitting at your desk once again, you groan in annoyance as he grabs a chair from a nearby desk and sits himself near you.

“What now?” You ask, barely looking at him.

“I’m not leaving till you do.” He answers simply.

"For a CEO, you seem really bad at getting the message." You grunt out.

He sighs, leaning forward to prop his elbow onto your desk, and then after a moment, he rests his face in his hand, looking at you calmly.

"I'm sorry." He says softly.

"So I've heard." You answer, deciding to save your work before he actually unplug your computer.

"Have you been sleeping?" Billy asks on another soft breath.

"Yes." You lie.

"You haven't. It's why you're here so late. Because you go home, and you lie awake, staring at the ceiling." He says, and you get the feeling that he isn't only talking about you.

"Can you blame me?" You snipe, trying to focus on your screen so that you can pretend that this conversation isn't happening.

There's a long silence before he speaks again.

"I hate myself."

Your chest squeezes harshly, brain halting any thoughts of work. You stare at the computer screen, feeling pressure build behind your eyes.

You wipe an unsteady hand over your mouth for comfort.

"Yeah well, that makes both of us." You reply shakily.

"I've always kind of hated myself," he continues, and you peek a look over at him to find that he's shifted, his hands in his lap, bending a paperclip out of shape while he speaks, "Even when I was a kid, I told myself that there must be something very wrong with me for my mom to not want me."

You take a deep breath, listening to him, finally hearing him open up about himself for the first time.

"I almost got adopted once, interview with a family had gone well, they let me move in with them for a trial period. I almost had what I wanted most, and then-" He gives a shake of his head, to knock the memory loose and you want so badly to reach over and take his hand, to stop him from worrying the paperclip out of shape, only to try to reshape it again, "-I punched their son in the face for something so dumb I can barely remember it. They dropped me back the next morning without a goodbye."

You watch in your peripherals as he puts the paperclip back into shape, except it doesn't look quite right, a little misshapen after his touch.

"My therapist says I've always had a penchant for self sabotage. Always worried that something good will be taken away, so I ruin it, so that at least it's ruined on my terms." He grins, "What a nutjob."

"You? Or your therapist?" You ask.

He huffs out a surprised laugh, looking up at you for a second, watching you return his laugh with a wry smile of your own, before glancing away.

Do you love me, Billy Russo?

"Sorry. I don't mean to force your forgiveness with a shitty story of growing up in the system. I just- well- I was hoping it would help you… understand me a little more."

“Don’t apologize. I get it. We’re all just trying to heal from something.”

“What are you trying to heal from? Besides me?”

You turn away, unsure if you want to tell him, unsure if you can speak for so long without shutting down.

You rub your knuckles against your lips absentmindedly.

“It’s stupid.” You whisper.

“It’s not. I promise.”

You feel anxiety flutter in your stomach.

“I’ve always felt like I was too much. Too loud, too clingy, too unattractive. Like if I was just tolerated, everywhere I went. I made friends, and then after a while, they’d leave, without explanation and with the number of times it happened, I kept thinking to myself that it had to be my fault.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“It’s the only logical explanation, that I’m okay to befriend and talk to a little, but I’m not enough to maintain a friendship with. I’m not enough to be held on to.”

Why weren’t you enough?

You stop talking now, taking a deep breath and holding it to fight off your tears.

He reaches for your hand, and you let him, you can feel the paperclip pressed between your hands.

“I see how badly I fucked up now.” He says softly to you, “And I want you to know that every inch of you is worth fighting for, and I fully intend to show you that.”

You close your eyes, shaking your head with a sad smile.

“Billy-”

“-no buts, you’re about to see some of the most desperate grovelling of your life.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“You’re insane, Russo.”

“Yeah. Don’t tell my therapist.”

.

He wants to hold you so badly. Wrap his arms around you, and feel you lean against him.

In the elevator now, he keeps glancing at you, his eyes drawn to the little fluttering clips in your hair and his heart clenches so tightly in his chest that he swears it stops beating.

“Let me drive you home.” He offers, hoping that you’d let him, instead of taking a taxi at this hour of the night. 

He watches the clips flutter more as you shake your head, a smile pulling onto his face at how adorable you look.

“We’re not there yet, Russo.” You respond.

Yet? He thinks hopefully.

.

.

.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Dragon's Mistress (15.2)

15.2. The End of the Beginning

MASTERLIST

Summary: Some things unravel, other issues find this ties

Warnings: cursing, mentions of war, mentions of death, humiliation, use of the word bastard and traitor, incest, death, mentions of blood, death of a monarch, might miss some warnings, you know what this it

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount:  2.8k

Notes: muahahaha this is it people! I didn’t even realize I was so close to the end until this! a final chapter! then a good epilogue. THIS WAS IT

“It was a dangerous move”, he warned

“But it worked”, said Corlys, “he is letting her go”

“You poisoned her”, he continued

“She was never in real danger, a little nose bleeding, a day of unconsciousness”, he said, “If I wanted to truly hurt her, I would have used some common poison, and not take months to find the proper one, to give her a good scare”, he murmured, looking into the flames, “I would never hurt her, or the baby within her”

“When are we leaving?”, he asked then

“First thing tomorrow”, he continued, “and you are coming with us”, Steffon smiled, relieved, “but then, I will return, after I make sure she is safely within out allies and friends, this isn’t over, this had only just begun”, Steffon smiled, knowingly, he then teached with his hands and the guard received the items he gave him, “you know what to do with these before we leave”, Seteffon nodded,  “oh, one more thing…”

“Yes?”

“Do we still have supporters in Harrenhal?”, he asked with a hint of a smile, almost knowing the answer

“The strongest of our allies reside in the Riverlands, they still hold big grudges against Aemond for burning their fields during the war”

“Perfect”, he said simply, “I´m afraid I’ll need them to burn one last thing before we are done”

Aemond was a complicated man

From the very beginning he tried to keep up to his word, since he was a young boy the thing that mattered to him the most was his honor, especially after witnessing his brother lose it so quickly in wine and whores.

He trained with the sword, he assisted to all his Valyrian lessons until he was fluent in the language of his ancient house, he took classes and read all volumes of history and philosophy in the greatest Library of the realm, the one in the Red Keep

He was a devoted son, and brother, and Prince, never arguing with his grandfather or mother, always doing what he was told

He rode the biggest dragon in the world

He was the perfect prince, a gentleman

Until, she was denied of him

When Queen Alicent had refused Princess Rhaenyra’s proposal of betrothed Helaena with Jacaerys, he thought…

Now is my turn

To take my sweet niece to wife, and put a solution to all the problems of the realm and within the family

He was the one to do it

He wanted to, his niece was the perfect Princess, well versed in history and poetry, rider of a fearsome dragon, and a beauty without comparison.

She was his retribution for everything, the price he had won with his efforts

But he was denied of that too, his brothers took his eye, humiliated him, and Rhaenyra took her from him

He could never forgive her

She, the perfect princess, was going to do what was told, and she was betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark 

No, you belonged with him

You were the only thing he has ever wanted, and the Kingdoms knew it when he burned the Riverlands and entire armies, only to get to you.

And he finally had you

But like they say…

... But some little birds cannot be caged, their souls begin to wither and suddenly they no longer want to sing ...

He wanted you, but you did not wanted him

He thought he could live with it, he had enough love for the both of you, he had enough desire, enough power, to keep you by his side.

But he didn’t

If you didn’t love him back, it didn’t matter what he did, he believed, you were his and that was enough

But it doesn’t work that way.

Now he had a lump in his throat as he saw the servants and guards put all your things in coffers

He had yielded

He was sending you away

He still didn’t understand why you didn’t love him back, as you tried to hide your happiness, but couldn’t

You were happy to leave him

This is what you wanted all along

So he found himself desperate again

He grabbed you in his arms, kissed all over your face, and whispered in your ear

“I will not stop until I find who did this to you”, he whispered, “when I do, I will bring you back to me”, you took too long to answer, concocting a lie in your pretty head, he could see the wheels turning 

“I hope so, my King”, you said faintly

“And when you return, there is only going to be you, no other, no other Queen”, he said, to see your reactions

“I will not wish for you to harm anyone”, you warned, oh, you, always so concerned

For when Floris expelled the babe from her belly… her days were numbered 

He was losing you, he didn’t like that.

He never realized he never had you in the first place

He would never admit it, but a tiny tear escaped his eye when he saw your ship sail away. Thankfully no one saw him, as a loud roar was heard front he skies and suddenly the entire harbor was overcome by a huge shadow, Aemond looked up to see your ever faithful dragon flying above your ship, following his rider home.

His face twisted in rage because he had commanded your dragon to be chained to the pit, clearly, the people he had sent had no luck containing the beast, apparently. 

Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor

A Dragon is not a slave 

Aemond turned around to see Floris, cradling her belly

He was weak a couple of times, and that was the result, he thought bitterly. They lends him a hand, he played it, he played it wrong

But he did not have any time to worry, to cry for your loss, to punch the walls in anger for what others in the dark where still making him do.

A week after your departure…

Aegon died

He exhaled his last breath in a heave of puss and blood, and that is how the man that what going to be known as “Aegon the Usurper” was gone from this earth, taken by the stranger. 

He detested his brother, that was no secret, but there was a day he didn’t.

Some years ago, Aegon was only his brother, his oldest brother, a bit drunk, and a whore, but he was only his brother, and that is when Aemond loved him, he had helped him usurp his sister, because he loved him, and his sister and his family, and he thought that was the way to keep everyone safe

Perhaps he had been wrong

But Aemond didn’t have the strength, nor the luxury of thinking about that, he didn’t dare.

It was what it was 

His mother, Alicent, cried silently as the silent sister worked on Aegon’s body, covered his sick and twisted body with gauze and so many oils and ointments to try and cover the stench, finally, they placed the crown of the conqueror over his covered body.

He had not been the King in a while now, so the ceremony was short, but dignified thanks to his mother, but as like Viserys before him, nobody really payed attention to the burial, but rather, his own coronation

He had been acting like prince regent for a while now, but no matter, the ceremony was great, held in the throne room, instead of the Dragon Pit like Aegon’s had been, other lords of all over the Kingdoms had not been invited, they were only notified of the death of Aegon, and the coronation of Aemond.

Aegon had died, now, he was King, and you were not by his side when Criston placed the crown over his head, he looked around the room, looking for you, expecting to see you there smiling shyly, but he couldn’t find you anywhere, he could finally crown you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in all your right

But you were not there 

The day

The most important day of his life, and you were nowhere to be found. 

He wanted to cry

He wanted to throw himself into his bed and weep

Only Floris was there, standing by the last step of the Throne, looking up at him triumphantly 

He wanted to throw up

But he couldn’t show it, for everybody in that room, for all those lickspitters and flatterers, they had won, it was him. Aemond, the right choice, the right brother

The one that studied history and philosophy, the one that trained with the sword, the one that rode the largest dragon in the world

The one who had wed two Queens, that now were with his children in her bellies,  the one that worn the conqueror’s crown and held the conqueror’s sword

All the symbols of…

For fucks sake

His grandfather would have been proud

That is what everyone in that room saw, the perfect King

That is who everyone greeted at the banquet afterwards, to the King, the Baratheon Queen, and his mother, the loved Dowager Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower

The court seemed at peace 

But it seemed like the peace before the storm

As the feast was raging on, Corlys Velaryon entered the room with the remains of his family, nephews and far off cousins, but impressive nonetheless

He barely nodded to the new anointed monarch, and sat close beside him, at the side of Floris

“You must be pleased to know, your grace, that your Queen is safe, at the palace we discussed”, he said triumphantly, knowingly souring the mood of everyone at the table, “she send her bests, and wishes to be present in this joyous occasion, sadly that cannot be”

“I agree Lord Corlys, soon, it shall all be well again, and I can have my Queen back at my side”, Corlys smiled, and raised his cup at the King, which he answered back, at the scowl of the Queen, and the frown of Floris

Aemond smiled, more confidently now, he was King now

Now, he was settled in power, with two heirs on the way, he was settling on the charge, he had vanquished one of his most powerful enemies while on power, he had won the war

His chest filled with the sense of victory

One step closer 

One more, just one more

One enemy left to be slain, and it was going to be fine

All of it, was going to be worth it

He was King now

A real King, anointed by the faith, cherished by the people, supported by half of the great families and at least three of the seven Kingdoms

It could be better.

But it didn’t

Days went by and nothing did.

One day, a very respected member of his kingsguard entered his chambers, he looked nervous

“Your grace, following your instructions, I found something in Queen Floris’ chambers”, he said shakily, he knew how much was at stake, specially if he was wrong

Aemond only looked at him severely 

Corlys was sewing scorn, resentment and mistrust in court, and he was not going to stop, until they ripped each other apart

“Queen Floris poisoned our beloved Queen, but she couldn’t do it alone, the question is, why your master of whispers didn’t know it?”, he asked the King as he had called upon him for advice on what to do, “she couldn’t have done it alone, my king”

Reader’s POV

You didn't want to believe it, when Aemond told you he was going to send you away, you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you believed you were dreaming.

But it was real

Maids helped you put your things inside coffers, and a sudden happiness filled you 

it was true, you were going away

Dragonstone? probably, is the only place that made sense for you

You were begging

But any place could be better than this

You would even go to Casterly fucking rock, instead of this place

Ironic, it should be your home, where your mother was born, where you were born

But it became a prison

You didn't want to believe you were finally going to be free of it until you were walking towards the docks, escorted by the entire Kingsguard and Aemond walking by your side

He was angry

He had promised you that you were going to be the only Queen, soon, and you couldn’t wish for anything but the opposite

This worked

You placed your hand in your belly, he had what he wanted, you could only wish you were expecting a girl and Floris a boy, perhaps then he would leave you alone.

 Aemond followed you hand, placing them over yours, as you stopped by when you reached Corlys’ ship at the end of the harbor

“I will send for you soon”, he promised, as he kissed you, you leaned into him, making him believe you would come back

You wouldn’t 

ONce you were weak enough to fight this, but not anymore

You were not going to come back, not against your own will.

You grabbed the small hand of your little brother as you helped him aboard the ship

Corlys held you both once the boat left the harbor.

It was funny

From all your Velaryon siblings, you were the one that liked the sea the most, even if your real father was Daemon Targaryen

You found it calming, reassuring, soothing, but it was also something to be weary of, careful, scared of.

The endless sea

“Thank you grandfather”, you whispered, he kissed the top of your head

“I’m here now sweet girl”, he whispered back, “they will pay for everything they have done to us”

There was a time you cursed him, you believed he had betrayed you and your mother, but he didn’t, he needed to get inside, attack from within, he was the Sea Snake, one of the most dangerous men on the seven Kingdoms

And he was on your side 

“The sea agrees with you”, he whispered, as with the soft sway of the ship you felt more confident as when you were on mainland 

“I got it from you”, you said cheekily, and he smiled warmly

“You are my legacy, history remembers names, not blood”, you only smiled gently 

And those words made sense only when you arrived at Dragonstone, where there was two very familiar silvery heads waiting for you

“Baela? Rhaena?”, you called, your half sisters smiling back at you. You ran towards them, as much as you could since you were heavily pregnant

they held you tightly against them

Once the war had started to collect the lives of your grandmother and then your brothers, Corlys had taken them to Driftmark, where they were going to be safe, you never saw them again.

Your stepsisters, your baby brother, your grandfather.

You looked up at the high towers of the huge castle, just in time when your dragon arrived and flied above it and between.

Beautiful

Safe

Your baby kicked inside you and you smiled warmly, he knew he was home too

 “You don’t have to worry, little one”, Corlys whispered, “you are home now, I’ll protect you”

But as you approached the castle, you realized it was more… lively, that the last time you saw it, more people, ships on the harbor, banners from houses of the Crownlands, no, it couldn’t be, you recognized from afar the house sigil of the Celtigars 

“What is going on?”, you asked

“The Lords are greeting you back home, where you belong, you, your brother, and the princeling”, now Corlys had the winning hand, having all the royal bloodlines under his protection.

When you entered the hall, you were met with all the lords of the Crownlands, everyone bowed when they saw you, smiling brightly at you, you smiled shyly back, as they guided you towards the Dragonstone throne.

Encouraged by Corlys, you took a seat in the throne, something you didn’t even see your mother do.

You gazed at all the lords, who didn’t even look in your direction when you lived inside these walls, when you were the last child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and they could see how they disappointed you in your face, in the frown in your face.

Many of them started talking, amongst each other, and some towards you, many apologies, a lot of everything 

“We failed you once, our sweet Queen”, one man stood above all the others, “ we will not fail you again”, said Lord Celtigar, taking a knee to you, and all the other Lords followed

“To the Queen, and Prince Viserys!”, chanted one, and everyone echoed it

“For our late Queen Rhaenyra!”, chanted another and once again, your mother’s name was being called in the halls of Dragonstone

WELL, BRING ITTTT hahaha

It is going to be a long epilogue...

[geordikisser]

hii i love ur isaacwhy fics sm!! ur writing is so good, i love lurking lol. could i req a fic with isaacwhy x reader (gn or fem is ok) and how they would resolve having an argument? maybe they've been ignoring each other for a day or two. just rlly angsty fluffy hurt/comfort goodness. ty!

a/n I LOVE ANGSTT sorry for the delay on content everyone! my wi-fi has been bugging out recently -_-; ..

REQ OPEN

i love you so | issacwhy

epilogue: isaac gets enveloped into his work a lot and doesn’t know how to make for you frequently, due to him being new to dating while in content creation & this has caused problems for you.

content contains! gender neutral usage, angst

♡ you urgently knock on isaac door, calling out his name from behind it. it’s been about 2 days since you last spoke or even seen him out his room. this brewed up frustration in your chest as you feel tears flood your eyes.

restraining, you sigh shakily. knocking once more till you ultimately just barge into his room. grabbing his attention with your big entrance.

he turns to you, his eyes gleaming into yours. as he slips off his headphones, guilt fills his eyes. “hey.” he waves slightly at you. you furrow your brows, infuriated with him. just hey?

“are we ok, isaac.” you ask in a passive aggressive tone, your sass still drowning out your filter you tried desperately to put on.

he looks around in a confused manor before responding. “i’m okay, why?” he misheard you, making you hold back the heat you had sucked into your throat. “we, isaac. not you. but that is a good question to start with!” he now offended by this reaction.

“woah? what happened?” he asked, concerned slightly. “it’s like i don’t even exist to you? i mean— two days, you haven’t left your room, only seeing you when you shower or eat? this isn’t healthy, isaac.” you tried to gently coax him away from his set up before this, went to no avail.

his face of concern, turns to a frown. “babe. imma big boy, i can handle myself. there’s a method to this madness, i don’t need you worrying about me..” he exhales deeply, resting his forearm against his desk. you can tell he’s trying to play this off as a joke.

you mentally note his body language, his leg bouncing, using his empty hand to fidget against his mouse pad..

“look at this, issac! you’re itching to get back to your computer.” you pout slightly. “i understand you are worried, but i’m extremely busy right now. i need to get back to my work.” he tries to lay this gently to you, knowing how you get.

“am i not as important to you as a fucking video with your friends, isaac?” you whimper weakly, your voice feeling hoarse. he pinches the bridge of his nose, getting slightly frustrated. “(y/n).” he states flatly. “don’t make this into what it isn’t— i haven’t spoken to the guys either, anyone! this isn’t about you.” his tone getting harsher the longer he drags it.

as he stands up to meet closer with you, you feel your lip begin to quiver. “that isn’t normal isaac, you know that right?” you shake your head out of disapproval, sadness drowning your tone. it being very evident to isaac.

“i can’t deal with this right now. you are being dramatic.” he groans inwardly, the paranoia of this conversation appearing inevitable yet so happening so soon.

the immediate invalidation that dripped from his tone made your glass fragile heart, shatter within an instance. “i have to finish this, (y/n). you wouldn’t understand. this isn’t about you.” he looks away from you, the back of his neck accompanied by his hand as he scratches his neck.

“when is it about me!” you sob out, your eyes feeling weary. a pang of guilt stabbing his chest. he swallows harshly as you continue. “what about me ,, what about— us, isaac.” you sigh, defeatedly. his eyes leaving your gaze and to the side.

you grip your sides, tightly. feeling the water works brew up and you break down into a fit. “you have 0 idea of how this makes me feel! being second rate to a pc.” you look away, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. your legs feeling weaker suddenly.

“i feel so helpless in this situation. if not me, then what?” you begin to hold your own face to prevent tears, wiping them away slowly. staining your (really isaacs shirt you stole) with your tears.

he feels his lip quiver as he reaches out to you. neglect was a common habit of isaac, commonly to himself not others though.

the dedication he put into his work cause him to inadvertently push you away. “baby—,,” his frown out of guilt instead of annoyance. “i had no intentions to make it turn out like this.”he sighs, exhaling heavily. “c’mere, don’t cry baby.” he coos gently, extending a arm to you. you waste no time latching into his hold.

he grunts as you fall into his chest, the sudden impact taking him aback. he rubs your back, swaying you gently as he slowly meets you two to his bed. your sobs being the only audio in his ears now.

“oh baby,i’m so sorry. i had 0 idea.” he whispers to you in a loving more considerate tone. “y’know. you’re my first real relationship since i got into content creation. this two lives thing is something i gotta get used to.” he admits, swallowing his pride.

you sigh, shakily. “i understand you take pride into content creation and it being your job or whatever.” you say, not disregarding the fact you came after he became a content creator. “but i want to be important to. just as much as recording, streaming, editing. i want to take priority too.” you look up at him from his chest, your hold getting looser as you begin to caress his biceps with your thumb.

he nods, humming in response. he begins to rock back and forth to keep you relax, knowing this is usually what keeps you calm.

“i understand that baby, im sorry.” he coos to you, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. “you’re so perfect for me baby. how’d i get so lucky? my sweet baby.” he sighs, kissing your forehead, smothering you in kisses practically.

“i had to kill a man in my last life to get you.” he jokes. you smile softly, leaning into his chest fully. “i love you more than you know. i’ll never take advantage of the fact i have such a loving partner like you. this will never happen again.” he says firmly, his tone making you confident. this truly being a mishap you believe. isaac wasn’t evil, just very misunderstanding to certain situations.

[qsphyxias]

Nightwing x Male! Reader (hurt/comfort)

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you just broke up with ur bf bc he cheated on u and Nightwing comes to make u feel better.

warnings ; swearing, break ups, venting (not traumatic or too deep) about relationship, manhandle joke, angst? its topic is sad but I think I made it too nice and fluffy

note ; i wanna add more, esp. with pillow talk or whatever but I'm too tired and maybe ill just make another part or smth or edit it

words ; 1.3k+

Your face burned, and your lips trembled against the hand you held up against your moth. You sighed shakily, dropping your head atop your arm leaned up against the railing of your balcony. That was the end of another relationship.

You looked at the wet cement down below, over the thin, black iron railing, your eyes couldn't focus on anything because of the fat tears that obstructed most of your vision. Gravity pulled your tears to the ground, almost pulling you entirely over the rails — you just felt so tired.

The day you've had was just about enough for you to bear. You found out your boyfriend of three years was cheating on you for two of those three years. But the worst part was that you hadn't even found out yourself; he had told you, and he had been the one to break up with you. As if, you were the problem.

You were in the way.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You murmured under your breath, rage began to well up, and you could feel it in your throat — strangling you, taking your breath and turning it into steam. "I wasted three years on him. Three fucking years of my life!" You backed away from the ledge, looking up at the sky as if it represented the entire world before you. "And for what?"

Despite it all, a part of you wanted him back. Not because you loved him, but because, where else will you find someone? You knew everything about him, and you... well, you hoped he knew just about everything to know about you. But now, all that information is useless. You were scared and alone; how much time did you really have? It's not like some handsome, piece of ass is going to come around and save you.

You slid down on the cold surface of the balcony, sitting down and tucking your knees in as you watched your fingers fidget in front of you. You stopped crying, but now it felt worse than before. Your heart had no means to release all that raw emotion because your body couldn't take the exhaustion.

"Hey, are... you alright?" A gentle hand grabs your shoulder, and your head shoots up to see dark blue eyes, staring at you with nothing but hopeful concern. His hope to somehow make you feel better, and his concern that you are currently sitting on the ground, eyes, nose, and mouth red and swollen.

You don't push away, not at all — in fact, that's the last thing on your mind. Even when it hits you that Nightwing is leaning over you, a knee on the ground and his arm on your shoulder. You're too drained to react properly, you just stare at him.

You pressed your hand on your cheek, murmuring your speech. "Give me a fucking break." Had he arrived at a time — literally any other time — less inconvenient, you probably would have asked him for an autograph and fawned over his arms. He chuckled at your reply, not at all offended by your display of disdain at his appearance. He took a seat next to you on the cold hard ground.

For a couple of minutes, you both just sat there, and you stared off into space as you silently fought with your inner demons to not lash out at him. With an apologetic sigh, withdrawing your attitude from before. "I'm sorry, it's been a rough night- I just found out my boyfriend was cheating on me for two years." Nightwing glanced over as you mentioned a boyfriend, so you weren't straight, huh? That totally won't affect how he sees you.

The man beside you sucked in a sharp breath as you mentioned your situation, immediately feeling terrible as he put himself in your shoes. "Don't worry about it; you deserve a little lashing out." You scoffed affectionately as you wiped your remaining tears away with your sleeve, he was friendly, wasn't he?

"That's nice of you to say." Suddenly, the floor looked much more interesting than looking at the attractive man beside you. He noticed the averted gaze and brought you back to reality by placing his hand on yours. "I'm serious, lash out at me! Whatever you wanna say to him, say to me." He was serious, grinning at his great idea.

"I mean I heard you wailing from miles away; I'm sure you don't have a shortage of things to say." He looked proud of himself. "Dear god — you heard that?" You stood up and backed away from him, with him following you closely. "I think half of Gotham heard that." He teased, watching your ashamed expression with a smile.

"You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?" You said, standing your ground as you taunted him right back. His smile only grew, "I have mixed reviews."

"Alright, Nightwing. I'll take you up on your offer." You crossed your arms and stepped closer to him, "I'll vent."

He rubbed his hands together in response, beckoning you towards him. "Give it to me."

Your face turned beet-red at the sudden conspicuous innuendo, and you paused. Hoping he hadn't noticed, you got back in the zone and tried to imagine your ex's face in place of Nightwing's. "Okay, alright. Well. You're... You're a dick."

Dick laughed, for more reasons than one. "That's it? Have at me! Don't be shy." You frowned, "Fine then, you're not just a dick. You're also cruel." You looked into his eyes, seeing your ex's face before you instead of Nightwing's.

To fuel the fire, you channeled all those feelings into your speech. "You broke my heart for no reason when you could have left me when you met him. And- Instead, you wasted my time, thinking I was in this... This loving relationship with a man I was going to marry — " Before you could keep rambling on, you felt strong arms around you, grounding you. You hadn't noticed you were trembling from the emotion until you felt the calm, still body against yours.

You also hadn't noticed how much you absolutely needed that hug.

Hesitating, your arms hovered over his back before you tenderly hugged him back, sinking into his body knowing he could still hold you from his already tight grip. You wondered if you'd ever be hugged like this again now that you didn't have a boyfriend. Whenever your ex did decide to hold you like this, it wasn't often.

Sleep took over your body as his warmth may have reminded you too much of your sheets, and the comfort of your bed. Maybe he reminded you of home.

"... Was that too much?" You murmured against the chestpiece of his suit. He shook his head, not wanting to see your expression just yet. Your frown and your trembling lips broke his heart.

"I think I'm tired." Dick took that to heart and picked you up with ease, walking over to your balcony door and stepping in. "Oh- so you're just gonna manhandle me then?" You declared eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. For a second, he was worried he had crossed a boundary. "Well, I'm okay with that." Now he wasn't so worried.

Dick chuckled as he placed you down on your bed, turning off the light beside you and moving to exit your apartment. He stopped in his tracks as he heard you groan. "Wait, come back..! Stay with me. Please?" He turned around to see you pouting on your bed, knowing you were trying your absolute best to extract pity out of him to make him stay.

"It'll be my first night in three years without a warm body sleeping next to me; you're really gonna leave a guy hanging?" He rolled his eyes as you played the break-up card, waltzing over with a defeated look on his face. You on the other hand, had adorned an expression of joy.

"You regret stopping by my balcony, don't you?"

"... Far from it, actually."