#my wailing heart… this scene was everything

[whumpypepsigal]

Avatar: The Last Airbender (2024) s01e04 “Everything I need is on this boat.”

[writers-potion]

Let's Scare Your Readers!

Combine the techniques below with the techniques for building suspense to give your readers a palm-sweating sensation!

Darkness

If absolute darkness doesn't make sense in your story, aim for semi-darkness: dusk, a single lantern/candle, heavily curtained windows, a thick canopy of trees, etc. Flickering lights that create confusing shadows can also be effective.

Let the darkness pool gradually around your MC. Show the night or fog rolling in, the camp-fire subsiding, or the candles burn down one by one.

Examples:

The candle sputtered. The light wavered.

The lamp cast its smoky light on the brick walls.

The night was silent, but for the dry rustling of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees.

Sound

Of all the senses, the sense of hearing serves best to create excitement and fear.

the clacking of the villain's boots on the floor tiles, the ticking of the wall clock, a dog barking outside, the roaring of a distant motor, a door slamming somewhere in the house, water dripping from the ceiling, the chair squeaking, the whine of the dentist's drill, the scraping of the knife on a whetstone, a faraway siren wailing the heroine's own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

When the surroundings are dark, your MC will grow to be more aware of the surrounding noise, even if it's not relevant to the plot.

Chill

Make it uncomfortably cold for the MC, and your readers will shiver with them.

powercut cutting off the heating, nightfall naturally bringing in lower temperatures.

winter, evening, a cool breeze that chills everything, survivors running our of fuel, the ceiling fan is over-active, stone builindg/caves/sbuterranean chambers tend to be cold.

Describe how the cold pinpricks the MC's skin, stunting their thinking and making them shiver.

The opposite can also be effective: turn up the temperature using a stove, an overheated motor, or the sweltering sun to make the MC sweat.

Isolation

This is a common technique: let the MC face the monster alone with no external help. It's also easier to limit the resources and escape routes available for the MC.

an abandoned factory, remote mountaintop, the depth of an unexplored cave.

It can also be more everyday locations: a construction site, the sewer, a malfunctioning bathroom.

Meet the Monster

When describing the threat, spread out your descriptions so that (1) the scene has constant action (2) you have material to build up later.

Good details to show:

hands, fingers, nails, talons, claws

the sound of the voice, growl, roar

the smile, teeth

the texture of skin, fur, scales.

Get Visceral

Never tell your readers that the MC is scared. Describe the fright using these physical effects:

the skin crawling, breath stalling, scalp pricking, clenching of the chest, stomach curling, heart thudding, sweat tricking down, clogged throat, pulse in the ears, cold sweat, chills up/down the spine, stomach knotting, breathless, etc.

The Gory Bits

Instead of describing everything, limit yourself to particular details, keeping overall description short. Non-stop gore doesn't shock - its bores.

Create a contrast: the child's mutilated corpse still clutches the doll. The brains from the baby's plt skull spill across the fluffy pink blanket.

Use similes, comparing gruesome buts to something from ordinary life. The intestines look like spaghetti in tomato sauce. The blood spilling from the mouth looks like lipstick.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[writing-fanics]

Nothing lasts forever

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: cheating: angst: panic attack: implied death]

‘More than anything music box’

As you stood there, your heart felt as though it had stopped beating at that very moment. Your breathing started to slow down as your smile faltered and transformed into a frown. A look of profound sadness and sorrow took over your face as you gazed at the scene before you.

Your eyes were fixed on Lucifer, one of the most beautiful angels in all of Heaven, the one you had opened your heart up to and shared your deepest feelings with.

But now, you were witnessing him cheating on you with Lilith, the first woman and Adam's wife. The pain you felt was almost unbearable, as you watched the love of your life betray your trust and shatter your heart into a million pieces.

You could feel your throat closing as your breathing quickened. You felt sick to your stomach as if someone had punched you in the gut. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to scream. To cry, to disappear from existence. You couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing to you, were you not enough?

Were you not as beautiful as she is? Were you too clingy? To annoying? Why did he betray you and your trust?

He promised to always be by your side when you needed him, to always catch you when you fall. To be your shoulder to cry on. To never break your trust.

But here he was breaking that very promise and trust, leaving you feeling empty and hollow. The two of you were made for each other, and with the scene unfolding before you. Made you think otherwise.

“I love you, Lilith,” whispered Lucifer, as he stared at Lilith in awe kissing her on the lips.

Your whole world shattered as your back hit the tree, and you slid down onto the ground. Placing your hand over your mouth, muffling your wails. You couldn’t breathe and felt the world closing in on you. You were nothing to him. You sniffled quietly placing your head into your hands, and wept as you swiftly flew away.

You fell into a heap on the floor of your house, sobbing as you curled up into a ball. You saw everything and what you saw would forever be engraved into your memory, you’ll never get it out of your head. Seeing them like that, him like that with another woman. Made your stomach turn, how could he do such a thing to you?

“W- Was I not enough?” You whimpered, as you lay in the fetal position. Your face is red and puffy cheeks stained with tears, your heart aching and unbearable pain. You knew he felt what you were going through at this moment, and couldn’t care less to comfort you. Your love was bound and could feel each other's emotions when they became severe, and you knew for a fact he could feel it.

But didn’t care enough to comfort you. He was having too much fun with Lilith, doing things that he should only be doing to you his lover.

You thought he would never do such a thing to you. Never betray you and break your heart, and here he was ripping it right out of your throat. If he had noticed you would he have stopped? Would he have kept going? Taunting you, teasing you, on an act he’d never done to you. Such an act he’ll never do to you now.

You thought your relationship was good perfect even. Yes, you had the occasional fight but would always end up back in each other’s arms, holding each other lovingly. Feeling safe and secure in each other's warm embrace.

“I'm so sorry, my dear duckling," he whispered, pulling you close and showering your shoulder with gentle kisses. "Please know that I understand how you feel.”

"I forgive you, Luci," you said, enveloping him in a warm embrace and smiling through your tears as he held you. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and whispered comforting words in your ear, promising to make things right.

You banged your fist against the cold ground; gripping at the fabric of your clothes, as you cried. The tears didn’t seem to stop and wouldn’t anytime soon. You couldn’t breathe, the room around you started to spin. You felt dizzy and nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat causing you to gag. You swallowed and gripped the side of your head.

You tossed it to the ground, screaming and crying in anger and frustration. “HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME!” You shouted, trashing everything that reminded you of him. You couldn’t stop crying, the things this man did to you. How he made you smile and laugh, how he made you fall head over heels.

You wanted to disappear and fade back into dust, your original form. To not be forced to live with this pain for all eternity, knowing that even after this you’d still love him. He’d come back and apologize slowly making up for it but…..

You stood there with the other angels, his siblings trying their best to comfort you. As you watched him be banished from Heaven, cast down with his new lover. Leaving you there alone in Heaven, with no shoulder to cry on.

You found yourself standing amidst a group of angels, feeling a sense of unease and trying hard to keep yourself composed. As you looked ahead, you noticed him standing before Lilith, his wings stretched out protectively, shielding her from any harm. The sight of him being so close to Lilith made your heart ache with a mixture of emotions.

You couldn't help but wonder if you were so unpleasant to look at that he couldn't even spare a glance in your direction. The whole situation left you feeling conflicted, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards Lilith, who seemed to have his undivided attention.

As you stood there looking at him, you noticed that his gaze had shifted to meet yours. It was then that you saw a hint of remorse in his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. In that moment, a single tear trickled down his cheek, and you averted your eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the situation.

As you looked away from him, he noticed the tears that had welled up in your own eyes, and the hollow, defeated expression etched on your face. It was a moment of deep emotional turmoil for both of you, and the silence that hung between you was almost suffocating.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Azrael said, as he placed his hand on your shoulder squeezing it gently in reasurrance.

You shook your head and stepped outside of the courtroom, stopping at the stairs. You reached around your neck taking off the necklace, Lucifer had given you years ago.

You stared at it for a moment, opening it. A soft melody played, tears trickled down her cheeks as whisps of yellow magic swirled, around the locket music box. A duck swam in a pond while a swan, swam up next to it nuzzling their heads into each other.

As she witnessed the heartwarming scene unfolding before her, she couldn't help but let out a choked sob. A tearful smile graced her face as she watched the duck and the swan gradually transform into Lucifer and You, respectively. The two characters held each other closely, their embrace exuding a sense of comfort and security.

Lucifer, still holding onto You, took to the skies, flying around with exuberance. His laughter filled the air, and his smile was contagious. You, too, shared in his joy, reveling in the moment with him.

As they soared through the clouds, a vivid memory of their first kiss flashed before your eyes. You remembered how you had wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, and he had held you close to him. The moment had been magical, and it was a memory that you cherished deeply.

You smiled, closing the locket as a gust of wind blew the magic away, and you along with it, returning back to your original form to dust.

A/n: idk what I just created there’s no part ii for this unless y’all beg me for it but idk still]

Taglist

@froggybich

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

I seen this gif of Bucky and immediately thought of him taking a nap on the couch with yours and his newborn daughter sleeping peacefully on his chest and Alpine sleeping on the arm of the couch next to his head and you come home from the grocery store to see the cuteness overload on the couch and can’t help but take a picture of your two favorite people🥹🩵

Take A Pic, It'll Last Longer

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Wife!Reader

WARNINGS: extreme fluff

WORD COUNT: 753

Sighing hard, you drop the heavy plastic bags at the door. You, being you, were too stubborn to make two rounds to just get groceries. Yes, the apartment has an elevator, but you were that girl.

You toe off your shoes and hang your purse on one of the multiple hooks beside the front door. And you pause, realising one major thing.

It is quiet, extremely quiet.

"Honey?" you whisper into the front hall, waiting for a reply. But to your surprise, there isn't any response.

You walk slowly, your body on high alert, as you turn the hall and look at the sight before you.

Your whole body relaxes instantly at the scene draped across your grey couch.

Your husband lays across the three-seater, with his metal arm secured around your four-month-old daughter on his chest. You pout, and your heart warms even further when you see Alpine sleeping in the crook of his neck. Her head's on the armrest and her tail hanging over the edge of the couch.

"Aww," you whisper. You quickly pulled out your phone and snapped a very cosy aesthetic picture of the scene in front of you.

Bucky's super-hearing hears the shutter of the camera and stirs awake. His arm is secured around his little girl as he manoeuvres Alpine easily.

"Doll?" His voice rough with sleep, "you finished quickly." He places the cat gently on the couch and walks over to you, giving you a loving kiss on your lips.

"Not many things to get," you smile up at him. Your baby stirs awake to both your voices and begins to whimper at the disturbance. Bucky bounces her on his arm, and her cries are quickly soothed.

"Hand her over, I need to feed her," you say tiredly, already dreading the task of putting the groceries away. You pluck the baby from his hands and Bucky rubs your shoulders, "alright. Then I'll put the groceries away, love." It's like he read your mind.

You groan and thank him.

-----

You wake up to the sound of your alarm and harshly tap at your phone to hit snooze. Bucky wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you to his chest.

"Why do you have to put that thing to go off so early babe?" he groans into your hair. You chuckle and rub his arm, "because any second now, your daughter is going to get hungry and start crying."

And as if on cue, you hear the tiny wails of your little girl from down the hall. He chuckles and kisses the nape of your neck, "don't know how you do it."

You laugh and slide off the bed, "oh, and my other alarm is also set, so just switch it off when it goes off, yeah?"

Bucky nods with his eyes closed, not wanting to get up.

The alarm you told him about goes off about fifteen minutes later.

Bucky groans while he reaches for your phone on the nightstand, and he switches the alarm off.

He was about to turn your phone off and put it away, but that's before he realizes that you changed your wallpaper.

It used to be a picture of you two on your wedding day, but now it's a picture of him, your daughter and Alpine sleeping on the couch.

His heart warms, and he silently thanks his lucky stars for finding a woman like you after all this time. After everything reality has put him through, he's thankful that the universe has given you to him as a sorry for all the harsh moments they’ve dumped on him.

-----

You quickly shoulder your satchel and check the battery of your phone, before pulling on your heels and grabbing your car keys.

"Bucky, babe, I'm leaving for work!" You exclaim, at your husband who is currently changing your baby girl's diaper.

He walks out of the nursery with your daughter in his arms, and he gives you kiss on your lips, "have a good day sweetie, someone's gonna miss you."

Your little girl shrieks and giggles at you as you kiss her chubby cheek, "gonna miss you too, lovebug."

Bucky opens the door for you and you two have your last 'goodbye' kiss

"Oh and one more thing," Bucky says into the hallway of the apartment. You look back confused, "what is it?"

Did you forget something? Was something missing? What was it?

"Don't forget to send me that photo, your wallpaper," he winks at you and closes the door.

💌💌💌

What a beautiful ask, I really enjoyed writing this!!!!

Sorry for the late reply, was caught up on some uni work lmao.

Hope y'all enjoyed it!!!

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[blackbleedingrose]

Long Lost Morningstar - Part One

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing(s): Lucifer x daughter! reader x Lilith

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Warnings: Forced child abandonment

Notes: This is my first Hazbin mini fic. This will be a mini series, so there will be a part two but it may take a little while as I tend to get busy with work and school - so please, bare with me.

Words: 880

"No! No! Please!"

It's no surprise Lucifer and Lilith fooled around a bit during their days in the Garden of Eden.

What was surprising was the moment Lilith discovered she was pregnant.

Despite the shock and slight fear of being new parents, Lucifer and Lilith were overjoyed at the news.

When they found out the baby was going to be a girl, the two cried in pure happiness.

Lucifer became adamant, and a little overbearing, about doing everything for Lilith not wanting her to overwork herself or the baby. This did annoy Lilith (being the independent woman she was), but she knew he just wanted to make sure she and the baby were safe.

When Lilith went into labor, Lucifer went into full panic mode (imagine that one scene from The Office)

Lucifer: *freaking out* "OMG! IT'S HAPPENING! DON'T PANIC, HONEY!

Lilith: *calmly packing the hospital bags*

Lucifer may have passed out during the delivery when his curiosity got the best of him and decided to see what was going on down there (I imagine seraphim's or angels born in Heaven aren't born the natural way and instead created through magic).

Lucifer woke up from the sounds of crying and when he came to he saw a tiny body being carried by one of the nurses.

After rejoining Lilith's side (and making sure she was okay while profusely apologizing for passing out) they waited for the nurses to clean up the baby.

The moment the two saw one of the nurses bring over a pink bundle, their hearts filled with unbridled love and joy.

She was so small and had tuffs of blonde hair. She had Lucifer's red cheek circle's and Lilith's eyes.

Lucifer's eyes welled up with tears as he lovingly gazed down at the tiny person in his lover's arms. "She's perfect, Lily".

Lilith agreed with happy tears as she laid a gentle kiss on their daughter's head.

The two named her (Y/N) - (Y/N) Morningstar.

(Y/N) was a lively baby who adopted her father's bubbly and curious personality, as well as his love for ducks.

Her first toy was a duck plushie Lucifer had made himself.

However, despite having everything they could want in the Garden, Heaven, and now their new baby - they wanted something more.

They wanted to share free will with humanity in hopes that Heaven would finally see Lucifer's ideas and change their suffocating rules so (Y/N) could live in a world that wouldn't stifle any of her future dreams.

This lead them to tempt Eve with the apple, causing the unfortunate chain of events that lead to Lucifer and Lilith's trial.

The two were found guilty of bringing evil into humanity and as punishment they would be sent down into Hell.

However, before they sent the family into eternal damnation Heaven decided (Y/N) was innocent as she was only a baby who knew not what her parents had done.

Being a child of a seraphim and one of humanities first human's, they saw potential in her for Heaven's future - so they decided (Y/N) would stay in Heaven while Lucifer and Lilith would go down to Hell.

"Take the child," Sera ordered one of the court angels. "No! No! Please!" Lucifer and Lilith begged with tears falling down their faces as they held (Y/N) closer to them. The court angels forced the wailing (Y/N) out of her crying parents arms.

That was the last time Lucifer and Lilith saw their daugther before being banished to Hell for all eternity.

To keep (Y/N) from discovering her true lineage, Heaven decided that Lucifer's twin brother, Michael, would claim to be her father and raise her as a role model seraphim - one that follows Heaven's rules.

As (Y/N) grew up it became increasingly obvious how much she took after her parents. She had Lucifer's curious and cheerful nature, and Lilith's eyes, long blonde hair, and grace - both her parents beauty present in her features. The perfect combination of the two.

She especially adopted Lucifer's six large wings, only they had a pink under surface and gold tips.

To bypass any questions of her mother, Michael told her that he had created her from stardust with both his and Lilith's likeness - only using Lilith as a reference for a female.

Michael made sure her curious nature didn't go as far as Lucifer's, keeping her busy with her education and where he can keep an eye on her.

To keep her in check he told her about Lucifer and Lilith, but that they were her uncle and aunt who had lost their way and fallen from grace.

When she entered into adulthood, Heaven decided it was time for her to bear more serious responsibilities.

That's how (Y/N) Morningstar Demiurgos became one of Heaven's trial record keepers/recorders (she sometimes sits in trials and writes what's being said for the records).

It was mainly because Michael wanted to her to have a busy office job and away from exploring and getting too curious (he hoped being in trials would satisfy her curiosity, but made sure to keep her from asking too many questions).

And for awhile everything was perfect and in Heaven's favor. . .

. . .Until a certain Princess of Hell came to Heaven with a dream.

[atinyniki]

i ruined it...

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee felix x f!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff if you squint

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, almost breakup, y/n doesnt think felix loves her, felix is referred to as lix, felix neglects y/n bc of his job, felix misses their two year anniversary dinner, felix has trouble breathing in the scene, felix cries a lot, proposals, promise rings, insecurities, felix has been broken up with a lot bc of this, y/ns fav flowers are peonies, fighting

authors note: i cried. i dont even know why this came to mind??? but it did !!! so enjoy the angst :P this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 2232

“i’m sorry”

“sorry isn’t going to cut it anymore, felix. you’ve said it so much i don’t think you mean it anymore.”, you bite back harshly.

you’re normally understanding of felix’s job. it regularly requires him to stay overtime and keeps him very busy, but he’s missed too many of your activities.

he missed ice skating, your birthday, at least ten dates, but now he’s missed your anniversary. two years that you’ve been together, yet it’s like you don’t even see the boy anymore.

“what…?”

“it’s always ‘sorry’. if you were really sorry, maybe you would’ve skipped dinner with the boys. you could’ve come home… to me…”, your voice falters at the last two words, cracking with raw emotion.

it’s not fair to you anymore, nor is it to him. he can’t leave group activities or basically anything work related, even when it’s an emergency. if no one’s in danger, then there’s no chance he can leave.

“don’t you ever want to see me…?”

his face contorts into an expression of disgust. not with you, but with himself. his tears finally drip over his lashline, eyes red and burning. the tears are continuous now, completely unable to stop.

“i do… i do want to see you… i miss you so much, y/n.”

you scoff, “don’t lie to me, felix.”

he opens his mouth to say something back, but only a squeak comes out. “do you still love me…?”

“i love you to the ends of the earth… i promise.”

“then why don’t you ever show it? i don’t even know if i believe you anymore.”

he clamps a hand over his mouth, not out of surprise, but to suppress his sobs. he continues hiccupping, but clutches his mouth harder, not wanting to make too much noise.

he tilts his head down slightly so you won’t be able to see the painful look on his face. he tries to pull through, knowing that your pain must be much worse than this.

the sight breaks your heart.

“take your hand off your mouth. you won’t be able to breathe”

he complies, quickly wiping his tears and taking long breaths. “please- please believe m-me. i really do love you. i’m so sorry.”

he says it again, and you look into his eyes. you can see the pain in there, causing your heart to crack even more. you know he’s dealing with a lot right now, but so are you.

and now you need space. time to think about yourself, and time to think about if this relationship is really worth it anymore.

“i swear, i mean it, y/n.”

“you’re the one ruining this. this isn’t fair at all, felix. i love you, but i don’t think you love me the same way i love you. you’re not making an effort in anything. i don’t know if this is going to work anymore if it stays like this.”

silence.

“i need space.”

“i can give you that.”

“i don’t think this relationship is good for either one of us right now. ill come back when im ready.”

he nods in understanding, but his eyes are blown wide. the second you leave the room, he starts sobbing again.

no, not sobbing. wailing.

there’s nothing else he can do. this truly might be the end of what he hoped would be forever. 

he hurt you. he hurt you and that hurts him. your pain is his pain, but he knows you have it worse. if anything, he deserves this pain. you’ve had to bear this pain for months.

it’s his fault, he knows it. everything’s falling apart because of him, like it always does. everything’s ruined. it will end like it always does. 

just felix, alone.

someone else will come along, and he’ll break them too. it’s happened time and time again, and he’s finally given up.

it’s you he wants to spend the rest of his life with. it has to be you. no one else has made him feel this way, not once.

what’s worse is that you’re truly considering breaking up. ending it all because of another stupid thing felix did.

and for this, he will never forgive himself.

he’s still crying, just as loud as before, but now snuggled up into the couch. it smells like you, he realizes. maybe that’s why he’s getting so emotional.

he plays with the promise ring on his finger, crying even more now. maybe he won’t need it anymore after this.

you start packing, taking a good amount of clothes and stuffing them in your suitcase. you’ll have enough space for everything, you’re sure.

you grab one of your favorite sweaters from the closet, it has an adorable baby chick embroidered onto it. you stare at it again, but then put it back. it reminds you too much of him. 

you make your way to the bathroom, placing your hand on the counter while you open the drawers to check for any jewelry, when you hear a clink.

you place your hand down on the marble again.

clink.

you look down at your ring finger, a singular tear leaving your eye. you remember when felix got down on one knee on your one year anniversary. it was too early for a proposal, so you freaked out, but he calmed you down and opened the box.

a promise ring. a simple band to symbolize eternity. an eternity you believed you’d spend with felix. you’re scared that eternity doesn’t exist anymore, as much as you want it to.

you don’t know if he cares. if he cares about what you have. if he cares about you. 

you remove the band from your finger, shaky hands placing it down onto the counter. you observe the thin tan line it’s made, has it truly been that long?

when did everything change…?

you look for the box that felix gave it to you in. you’ve never taken it off since you got it.

you check in your jewelry drawer, but it’s not there. so you check in his.

there it is. a navy blue box with gold accents on the edges. you smile sadly, crying a little more when you truly think about your circumstances.

you grab the ring from the countertop and flip open the box.

your heart stops.

it’s supposed to be empty.

why isn’t it empty?

there’s a gorgeous gold band on the inside, small peonies engraved into it. your favorite flower, you realize. additionally, there’s a perfect heart shaped diamond sitting on top, almost taunting you. 

the heart was meant to symbolize your love. the love you have for eachother. the love he has for you. but felix has never been able to show that properly, not while under his circumstances.

is this the surprise he mentioned the week before? is this why he told you to dress nicely to dinner? is this why he told you to do your nails all nice?

it had to be, right?

you close the box and hold it tightly in your hand, trying your best to suppress the tears that are trying desperately to escape.

but your heart controls you more than your mind.

its almost as if your heart actually has a mind of its own, bringing you to where you are now. standing in the living room, watching the sobs rack felix’s body, velvet box still in hand.

his body jerks with each hiccup, the noise completely muffled by his hand. it’s then you realize that it’s not muffled, he’s suffocating himself.

you place the box down onto the table, rushing over to felix. you grab his shoulder, pushing him over and sitting him upright. he jerks when you touch him, not expecting you to be anywhere near him.

once he truly processes the sight of you, he cries even more. you pry his hand off of his face again, you know it’s a bad habit.

“felix. you won’t be able to breathe when you do that.”

“im sorry. i didn’t w-want you to- to hear m-me”

“deep breaths.”

he inhales deeply, trying his best to follow your breathing patterns, but it fails every time, broken up into small hiccups. “i c-can’t.”

“calm down…”

you give him a small smile, almost to reassure him. he tries again, but it doesn’t work. he shuts his eyes, unable to take it all, and the tears just continue to spill.

“i- i can’t… i can’t breathe”

you rub circles onto his back, trying your best to do breathing exercises with him. you forget how truly sensitive he is. 

“i’m right here…”

“you’re r-right here.”

“mhm… i’m right here, felix.”

“you’re right here… w-why are you here?”

you tilt your head in confusion, wiping a single cascading tear away from his cheek. “i’m here to take care of you.”

“you- i… i don’t deserve it…”

“what?”

“i don’t deserve you. you can- you can leave. i’m not forcing you to stay…”

your heart is now barely holding on, and it feels like only a single thread is holding it together.

“i’m here because i want to help you, lix.”

“you don’t- no- you don’t need to help me… it’s my fault.”

you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. 

“it’s my fault… i’m sorry.”

“felix…”

“you’ll leave…”

what’s going on with him?

“they all leave… n-not you too…”

“felix.”

“i don’t want you to leave… it’s all my fault.”

“felix, please, calm—“

“you’re going to leave…”

“i’m not going to leave.”

“i ruined it…”

it’s almost as if he’s stuck in the same state of mind, every part of the world being blocked out except for the terrible thoughts swirling around in there.

you cup his cheek with your hand, guiding his gaze towards you. one single look into your eyes, and he’s sobbing again. 

you place your left hand on his knee, you know how much he loves to feel you, but he only seems to cry more.

he tentatively brings a hand up to the one splayed out in his knee, and you watch him out of curiosity. he giggles, and you look back up.

he’s crying even more now, you don’t even know how that’s possible. he picks up your hand by your ring finger, staring at the tan line that your promise ring created. 

“i ruined it. how could i ever let you go…?”

he runs his thumb over it, and he quickly pulls your hand closer to his face. he places a soft kiss onto the line, just once, as to finally seal his fate.

it will never happen. he must accept it.

you don’t let go, instead intertwining your fingers. “i thought about it for a little. i really don’t want to leave you felix. i just… i didn’t know if you loved me anymore.”

“i do… i do love you.”

“i know that now.”

“you don’t know the full extent to which i do, y/n. i don’t just love you for what you have to offer. i love you for you. i love you for your smile, and i love you for waking up everyday. i love you for working hard, and i love you for your heart. i love you for things i can’t even see, and i love every part that makes you you. i love y/n. i love you. and i love you for being you.”

it feels as if the tears in your heart have finally been stitched up. every crack in your heart healed with his pure words. you know they came from the heart too. 

“i can’t guarantee i’ll be there for every event, and im sorry for that. ive tried to change that, but the rules are strict. even then, i wont give up. i’ll try my best to change them, i want to be the best boyfriend i can be. i dont want to rush dates because im running out of time, but instead because i cant wait to get home and finally cuddle with you without being in the public eye. i dont want to be late to any events just so that i can see that beautiful smile on your face when you see me there. i just want to make you happy, happier than you’ve been recently.”

“oh felix…”

he doesn’t say anything else, placing your hand back down on his knee and retracting his hand. that’s when his gaze flies to the table in front of him, the dark blue velvet box staring right at him.

he stands up, grabs it, and then kneels back down, on not one, but both knees. it looks almost as if he’s begging, but what you don’t realize, is that he truly is. he’s begging for your forgiveness, and he’s begging for another chance.

he has to make things right.

“y/n… i know i haven’t been the best boyfriend recently, not at all, but i want to make things right. you’ve brought so much light into my world, and i want to bring you that light too. i just need you to give me one last chance. one chance to make it right. i know it’s not the perfect proposal, but please, make me the happiest man in the world.”

he flicks open the box, displaying the band you last observed in the bathroom.

“i love you.”

“that’s not a yes or a no.”

“yes, i love you.”, you repeat.

you can’t control your heart anymore, and you take the chance to push felix down to kiss him. you know it’s not the ideal proposal, nor is it the ideal post-proposal kiss, but your answer would always be yes.

“it’s you, felix. it’s always been you.”

“y/n.”

“hm?”

“i promise, i’ll never let you go again.”

<3

[ameliathornromance]

A big sigh escaped the Orc as he swept his gaze around his flat. The moon light from behind him streamed in, casting his large, hulking shadow into the hallway.

He expected an excited, sing-songy voice to welcome him home, to tell him that foods on the table and ready to eat.

The Orc flinched at the silence. He shook his head, sighing and shutting the door behind him. Why did he expect it?

It had been like this for 3 weeks.

He was confused, stunned when you told him that you thought things weren’t working. He’d begged you for a second chance, another opportunity to prove that he could do better, be better… but the look on your face, your placid expression made it clear to him:

You were done.

He endlessly searched his mind, desperate to find something that he had done wrong - had he accidentally flirted with someone? Had he said something? Done something, anything?

Turning on the front room lights and opening the freezer, the Orc sighed. Normally, the fridge would have been filled with fresh vegetables, meat and sauces, all of which you would use to cook the most delicious gourmet meals known to man.

Well, they were gourmet to your ex-Orc Boyfriend.

He smiled, sadly, remembering the dishes you made with fondness.

There was nothing better than coming home, to one of your exquisitely prepared meals after a tiring and hard day at work.

Inside the fridge now, was nothing but a microwave meal. Popping the thin plastic film, your voice scolded him for having such a poor choice for a meal.

“At least boil some rice or something!” He heard your voice in his mind.

The microwave whirred, his processed meal turning slowly.

While that was… ‘cooking’, the Orc turned to his front room and turned on the TV. He mindlessly scrolled through the channels, reality TV shows, informational and geographical programs flicked past him.

You liked watching cooking programs, that’s where you got most of your food ideas from.

He groaned as the microwave beeped at him, harsh and unfriendly. Nothing like you.

After plating, he sat in the sofa and settled on a telenovela.

The female protagonist, a gorgeous Elf woman swung her long blonde curls, pointing at the male love interest, “How can you ignore me, Ronaldo?!” She declared, tears streaming down her cheeks, mascara trailing after them. “I work tirelessly for you! Do everything! Why can’t you just show some appreciation for once?! Take me out to dinner or something?”

The Orc froze, watching the scene unfold, the Elf woman wailing as her love interest protested: “What are you talking about?! I do all the heavy lifting! I go out and earn my keep, so you can live easily, why don't you appreciate that?!”

His heart in his throat, your ex seized the remote beside him and fumbled, desperate to turn off the TV. Once the screen had blackened, the Orc sat in silence, microwave meal untouched in his lap.

And that’s when he realised… it was him. You did work hard, you stayed at home at his request and did all the house work. When you made an attempt to cuddle or to go on a date with him, he was always too tired from work to do any of that.

The faces of disappointment and sadness as you had tried to get him to show any kind of love for you… And he’d just dismissed it. Ignored how you felt in favour of himself.

He looked down at his dinner for one, vision blurring.

Big, salty tears ran down his cheeks as he realised what he had lost.

Patreon

[flemingsfreckles]

I’ll Look After You

Synopsis: you and Jessie are still adjusting to life with a baby, Jessie notices that you’ve been struggling more and more recently, until you break.

Warnings: mentions of postpartum depression and anxiety, language

WC: 2.7k

A/N: hi, I haven’t posted in a while, just sort of been struggling, work has kicked my ass, and my motivation has just drained a bit but I’m trying to get back into it.

The first noise Jessie hears after the jingling of her keys in the sound of crying. It’s not an uncommon noise in your household, it’s an everyday, every couple of hours occurrence. But what she notices is the crying isn’t just that of your five month old daughter. She can also tell there’s the sound of an adult crying.

She quickly places the diapers and bag of baby clothes she had purchased on the counter and makes her way to your daughter's room.

She walks into the nursery to a scene that breaks her heart. You’re sitting in the rocking chair, your daughter resting in your lap. You’re both crying, your daughter wailing while you’re sniffling, shoulders shaking while you still try to console the baby in your lap. You looked exhausted.

“Oh my love.” Jessie says rushing to your side. “Let me take her.”

“No!” You snap at Jessie. “She won’t eat, but she’s hungry, that’s her hungry cry. She won’t latch, I can’t help her, but she needs to eat so she needs me.”

Jessie kneels in front of you. Her hands reach out to take your daughter. Already feeling panicked from the hours of crying you’ve sat through and the feeling of failure as a parent, you push Jessie’s hands away. You had been dealing with postpartum anxiety, you knew it and Jessie knew it.

It had started with just not letting your daughter out of your sight. She came with you everywhere, the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, she was always just a few steps away, in every moment you had your eyes on her. Even as she slept you watched her though the baby monitor, hardly ever getting rest yourself. That lasted a for the first few months and then it only became worse.

Then you started having nightmares of terrible things happening to her. That’s when you started not letting her out of your grasp. You no longer brought her out to Jessie’s games. You didn’t let family or friends hold her, everything was a threat to her. You held her constantly, feeling as if any place besides your arms was dangerous to her little life.

This even meant Jessie’s arms. You knew deep down Jessie was safe, she was even more cautious than you were with her, but your anxiety refused to let up when it came to your wife. Any time the baby awoke in the middle of the night, you were up too. Despite Jessie’s insisting you stay in bed, being the first one out of bed to get your daughter, as she’d get up, you’d follow her. You watched Jessie like a hawk when she held your daughter, terrified something would happen. It was all crazy, Jessie was the best partner and parent you could’ve ever imagined but your postpartum brain remained in panic at all times.

“What if she just never eats? She’ll starve, it’ll be all my fault. I just want to help her.” You managed to choke out between cried. Jessie could see the dark circles under you eyes, she knew you hadn’t slept that night and now it was early morning, the exhaustion beginning to take its toll.

“She’s not going to starve babe.” Jessie tried her best to console you. She didn’t know what to do, she felt helpless so many times seeing you stress and worry about your daughter, knowing she could only ease your mind so much.

“She might Jessie! She won’t latch! I can’t fucking feed her. I’m a terrible mom, I can’t even feed her.” You move through anger, yelling at Jessie and your fist hitting the armrest of the rocking chair, to feelings of sadness in an instant, tears falling again.

“You’re not a terrible mom.”

“I can’t protect her. She’s always crying, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I can’t keep her safe.”

“You can keep her safe, you do keep her safe. She cries because she’s a baby, she can’t talk to us, her crying is not an indication of you as a parent.” Jessie’s hands gently caress your shins, trying to help you relax. “Now, can I please hold her?” Jessie brings her arms out again. She knew she had to be patient with you but she also knew you had hit your breaking point. Your lack of sleep, your mood swings, your frustrations, all worried her.

She knew you had been up all night with her. It had taken the two of you a while to get her to fall asleep, and just a short hour later she was up screaming again. You changed her and put her back down, before returning to bed. She had started crying at midnight and you had gone into the nursery, telling Jessie you’d wake her for the next time she cried. Except you hadn’t. You never came back to bed after that wake up. Jessie had heard the crying on her own and made her way into the nursery at 2am. You had sent her back to bed saying you had it covered. Jessie listened, knowing it was smarter and safer to have one rested parent, she also wasn’t interested in making you upset.

Then when Jessie woke up again and noticed you were not next to her, she came to find you. At 4am she found you asleep on the floor next to the crib. She had placed a blanket over you and let you sleep while she made herself coffee. The baby had woken up again at 4:30 and you had been up with her since. Jessie had run to the store to get some necessities, hoping when she got back the two of you would be sleeping again. You had now been awake all night, with only a combined hour of sleep worth of naps to hold you over. Jessie knew she had to take your daughter away from you, you needed sleep. She wanted you safe and she wanted your daughter safe.

You just stare back at Jessie. This was your wife, you trusted her with every bit of yourself, your fears, your accomplishments, you trusted her with your body, with your heart, but for some reason you were terrified to hand her your daughter, the baby she had a hand in making, the baby that was half her, you couldn’t hand her over.

“Babe.” Jessie’s tone was no longer asking politely. “For her safety and more importantly, for your safety, I need you to let me hold her for a bit, you need a break.” Her arms extend once again. She had realized this was getting out of hand, not only did she need to take your daughter in this moment, it was probably time to seek professional help. Jessie made a note to bring that up later with you.

“I don’t need a break, I don’t get a break, I'm her mom!”

“I’m her mom too!” Jessie getting more and more concerned about your own safety starts to snap at you.

Jessie was right, she was her mom too. You look down at your daughter, who is still whimpering. You look at her small face, her little nose, the way her eyes were scrunched and her mouth open crying. It had you tearing up again, seeing how upset she was with no relief thanks to you.

“I couldn’t help her, I changed her, she’s warm enough, she’s burped, I checked her over a hundred times, there's no scrapes or rashes, nothing should bother her. She just is hungry but won’t eat.” That’s when you start feeling your heartbeat in your chest, the whoosh of blood through your ears. You can feel your chest heaving as you try breathing in air.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jessie’s hands come off your shins and onto your face.

“You’re okay. She’s okay, look at her she’s okay. You’re both okay. I’m going to take her just for a moment, I’ll stay here by you so you can watch. But I’m just going to hold her for a bit.” Jessie drops her hands from your face and gently scoops up your daughter, bringing her to rest on her chest. Your daughter’s head rests on Jessie’s shoulder. Jessie stands up and bounces her lightly, hand running down your daughter’s back trying to soothe the crying.

Jessie extends her other hand out toward you. “Come here, let’s go lay in our bed.”

You look up at Jessie and nod, taking her hand before dropping it. “Two hands on her.” You say, already worrying somehow your daughter will slip from Jessie’s strong grip.

“Okay, two hands.” Jessie shoots you a smile before placing her other hand onto your daughter's back. She follows you out of the nursery across the house and into your bedroom. You watch Jessie as she carefully places her into the bassinet next to the bed.

“There’s nothing in there right? No toys, no blanket, no pillows? Did you check that there isn’t a spider or anything?” It was your paranoia coming back, but you had to ask.

“No babe, just her. There’s nothing that’s going to hurt her in there.” Jessie says looking between you and the bassinet. “She’ll be okay, I’m going to pick her up again in a moment. Let’s get you changed first.”

Jessie took another glance at the bassinet before coming over to where you stood at the end of the bed. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders. “Would you like a shower?” You shake your head, you did but you didn’t have the energy. “New clothes at least? Brush your teeth? Wash your face? What can I help with?”

“I dunno.” You feel on the verge of even more tears, you’d think by now you’d be completely dry. You feel your lip start to tremble again and you bite it trying to hold back the sob ready to fall out.

“Okay, sorry, I gave you too many options. Let’s just get you changed.” Jessie says her hand gently falling to your shirt. “Can I take this one off?” You nod and lift your arms, Jessie gently pulling the shirt over your head. You stand there shirtless as Jessie walks across the room to her own dresser, pulling out one of her old shirts that you frequently stole and would wear to bed. On your way back to where you stood your daughter lets out a cry. You watch as Jessie quickly moves to grab a clean pacifier, placing it into her mouth before coming back over to you.

“Arms up pretty girl.” You do as she asks and she pulls the shirt down over your head. Her hands drop to the shorts you have on. “These off?”

“Ehh she didn’t puke on them, they can stay.” You say. And Jessie’s hands move off of them.

“Okay, in bed.” Jessie walks over flipping back the cover to your side and waiting for you to get in. You climb in and she gently pulls up the covers before walking around to the other side of the bed. She picks up your daughter from the bassinet before she climbs into bed next to you. “Come here.” She pats her side and encourages you to curl into her.

You watch as she holds your daughter, you watch carefully, making sure your daughter's head is supported, her back is in a good position, you watch Jessie, who’s looking between you and your daughter.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got her, she’s okay, if she cries you’ll hear her and wake up.” You lay there for a moment, Jessie was right, she was right next to you, if she cried you’d hear. You’d be able to get up and help in a second's notice. You take one last look at Jessie and your daughter before closing your eyes.

You’re not sure how much time passes when you finally wake up to the sound of your wife talking to your daughter. “Here ya go. This’ll make you feel better.” You blink a few times and see Jessie with your daughter, a bottle in her hand being held up to her mouth.

Your eyebrows squint as you try to take in the image of your daughter eating from a bottle. That was different, it was rare that she ate from a bottle especially when you were home with her, you’d wake up and feed her, there was no need for her to feed from the bottle. It made you upset that Jessie hadn’t woken you, maybe she didn’t trust you to feed her since you had failed earlier. Maybe she thought you were a bad mother.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You feel Jessie jump, not having realized you were awake and being startled by your voice. “I don’t want her to have formula yet, we talked about it this.” You had been strong in your decision to feed her, Jessie knew that. Bottle feeding her was one thing, but you hadn’t pumped, there wasn’t milk for the bottle, Jessie had to be giving her formula. “You should’ve woken me up, I would’ve fed her.”

You move to sit up, starting to pull your shirt up and reaching for your daughter at the same time. Jessie’s hand gently releases the bottle for a moment before her hand comes down onto yours.

“You are feeding her. It’s not formula, it’s your milk from the freezer. You’re still feeding her.” Jessie says looking at you, her hand returning to hold the bottle to your daughter’s mouth.

“Oh.” You feel stupid, you had frozen milk. Frozen milk you had pumped and saved back when your daughter was first born. She didn’t yet eat enough to use it all, so you had saved it. As she grew she drank more and more and you stopped freezing it. You had completely forgotten. You had forgotten, Jessie hadn’t.

“Go back to sleep love, I’ve got her, well, actually you’ve got her, you’re the one feeding her, I’m just holding the bottle.” Jessie smiles down at you, bringing a hand to run her fingers through your hair. “Close your eyes.”

You feel a sudden rush of emotions again, feeling overwhelmed by the kindness of your wife, who you had been cold to since the anxiety started. “I’m sorry.” You can feel your chest tightening and your vision becomes blurry with tears.

“For what?” Jessie looks down questioning what you could possibly be apologizing for.

“Just everything, I’ve been so mean, and I just, I worry and I can’t let her go, if something happened to her, I don’t think I’d survive. I’m so scared for her, she’s helpless, and I’m her mom so that’s my job and I think sometimes I forget you’re her mom too, and I don’t want to burden you with the responsibility, and I just, I’m not being fair to you.”

“You’re also not being fair to yourself. You’re tired, you’re overwhelmed, I don’t like seeing you like this.

“I know I just can’t help it.” You blinked hard and the tears began to run down your cheeks, Jessie’s finger gently wiping them away.

“I know, it’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later, just get some sleep honey.”

“Okay.” You sniffle, trying to slow down the crying. “I’m sorry, I love you, you’re a really good mom.”

“Shhhh.” Jessie lets her fingers run through your hair again, trying to soothe you back to sleep. She doesn’t need to hear you apologize for something that was beyond your control, she knew it was all hormones, your brain playing tricks on you. She knows she’s a good mom, she knows you’re a good mom, she doesn’t need your reassurance but it is nice to hear. “I love you. I’ll look after you and her. I’ve got you. Just close your eyes.”

You do, quickly falling asleep with the feeling of Jessie’s fingers in your hair and the sound of her whispering softly to your daughter about the first time you and she met, one of Jessie’s favorite stories to tell. The anxiety and stress wasn’t gone, but for once, with her by your side, it suddenly wasn’t all consuming.

[syndrossi]

Regnal AU, Chapter 2 (Pt 1)

I wouldn't call 2.8K a full chapter, but it's the first two scenes of chapter two anyway! For those who need a refresher, Regnal AU is where Daemon and Rhea conceive the twins on their consummation night, aka teen-dad!Daemon + overly-involved!Baelon + dealing-with-it!Rhea. The first chapter can be found in Resonant Side Stories and Ficlets.

x~x~x

The three days of travel to and then back from King’s Landing were a singular torment. Ordinarily, riding Vhagar was one of the few pleasures Baelon still found in the world, everything else mired in grey and duty. But this flight had been fraught with nerves, the first mission he had undertaken in a long time that had kept his heart racing throughout: fetching dragon eggs for the twins’ cradle.

He had barely greeted his father and mother, pausing on his return from the Dragonpit only to accept the blanket that Gael had shyly offered, one she had embroidered herself for the new babe. He made his apologies to Viserys, who had wandered over to the yard to bid him welcome and ask after Daemon’s twins, hastening to secure the dragon egg cradles he had brought from the Pit in Vhagar’s saddlebags.

A servant ran to him, braving his dragon’s half-lidded gaze, to deliver a basket of bread and cured meats for his return journey, and then Baelon was off, not one hour after arriving.

They were healthy enough when I left, he reminded himself for perhaps the hundredth time. Aemon’s wails were powerful enough to wake the castle, and Jon—it felt too strange to call his grandson by his own name—was constantly wriggling, trying to take in the world around him. But they were yet so fragile. For all his assurances to Daemon, he knew that babes born small and early faced far crueller odds than those born closer to their time.

A pair of dragon eggs will protect them. It was no mere superstition. Accounts as far back as Aenar himself detailed the benefits of an early bond with a dragon, or even just proximity to a dragon egg. For both hatchling and infant, in fact. It had not saved little Aegon, but he had been sicklier after the difficult birth.

Alyssa, my love. Baelon gripped his saddle, steadying himself against the lurch of his heart that could still upend him when he thought of her. In his dreams, she held Jon in her arms, laughing with abandon at his surly expression and comparing it to Daemon’s as a babe. And Aemon was beside her, conversing quietly with his namesake, the intensity of his focus undiminished, even when turned upon an infant.

Baelon’s grip tightened, and he was grateful for the unrelenting roar of wind in his face that carried off tears as fast as they could fall. Such dreams were hard to wake from. And when he did, it was even harder to rise to greet another day without them.

The farms and orchards of the Crownlands beneath them gave way to the mist-shrouded hills that formed Crackclaw Point. He had pushed Vhagar to exhaustion over the past two days, covering ground that ordinarily would have been done in three, so he set her down as they approached Rook’s Rest, where Lord Staunton readily gathered the plumpest sheep from his farmers to sate Vhagar’s hunger.

Baelon kept the rest short, allowing them both six hours of sleep before setting out before dawn. They had another twelve hard hours ahead of them—or so he thought. Vhagar, aware of his urgency, shaved several hours from that. It was just nearing noon when Runestone came into view at the edge of the horizon, and when they had landed at last, he laid both hands on Vhagar’s snout, her heavy breaths stirring his hair.

“Thank you,” he said, staring into her bright green eyes. “I do not yet have enough hatchlings born of my hatchlings to spare.”

The enclosure that had been built for Caraxes was too small for Vhagar, but its keeper assured him that a hearty meal of sheep would be secured for his dragon. That was enough reassurance for him to grab the dragon egg cradle from her saddlebags and take off up the hill toward the castle. The fear he had barely held at bay for the ride wormed its way into his heart at last.

What if the babes had sickened since he had gone? Little Jon—or Baelon, as his father had negotiated in exchange for the dragon eggs—was the larger of the twins, his lungs hale. Aemon was smaller and quieter, save for the occasional wail in Daemon’s arms.

The gods cannot be so cruel to take him from me twice. But he had thought the same after losing Alyssa and their babe, that the gods would not visit such sorrow on him again.

Daemon came to greet him in the yard, and Baelon’s tension eased at his untroubled expression. “I did not think Vhagar had such speed in her,” his son said, sounding impressed. He shook his head then. “Did you not sleep at all?”

“I can sleep easily once the eggs are in their cradle,” Baelon said, surrendering the heavy chest to him with relief. It was difficult to say which had borne the greater strain throughout the three days’ ride: his thighs or his arms. “Where are they?”

“They are in the nursery now. Come.”

x~x~x

Baelon all but collapsed into the chair that Daemon had dragged beside the twins’ cradle, feet giving out midway through seating himself. Lady Rhea had joined the small convoy to the nursery, and promptly ordered a meal be brought for him from the kitchens, but his dizziness steadied as he gazed upon his sleeping grandsons. Jon’s hand was curled around the cloth of his brother’s sleeve, his frown intense even in sleep, while Aemon was the very image of serenity.

In his relief, everything else that he had battled back surged to the surface, and he found himself doubled over in his chair, a half choked sob giving way to a trembling laugh while Daemon looked on with widened eyes.

“I am fine,” he said after a moment, once he had ridden out the wave of emotion. He brushed at his cheeks, then held his hands out. “The eggs.”

Daemon undid the latches on the dragon cradle, flipping the lid open to reveal the two eggs nestled within its cushioned interior. One was a deep burgundy with bands of black and gold streaking across it, and the other was charcoal black with large swathes of smoky grey and silver. Baleon had chosen them himself: one from an old clutch of Vhagar’s, and one from Silverwing’s.

“They are beautiful,” Daemon said, holding each up in the light in wonder.

His good-daughter, ordinarily stoic and composed, looked no less awed, and Baelon beckoned her closer. She reached out hesitantly, feeling the surface of each egg. “Whose is whose?”

“That is for the hatchlings to decide,” Baelon said.

Daemon handed him the burgundy first, and then Baelon was faced with the dilemma of finding space in a cradle built for a single babe but tasked with holding two. He ended up gently shifting the infants higher up so that the eggs could be placed at their feet, and both woke at his touch, foreheads furrowing as they squinted at him.

He gave their faces a stroke, one and then the other. They were so small that even the knuckle of his forefinger seemed to dwarf their soft cheeks. “I have brought a gift for you from your great-grandsire.” Alertness seemed to enter their eyes after a few blinks, and he smiled. “Dragon eggs, to keep you safe.”

Baelon took the second egg from Daemon and parted the twins enough so that it could be placed between them. Their pudgy hands patted at its scaled surface, with happy little grunts emerging from Aemon’s side of the dragon egg. Jon’s flailing study was quieter, his intense brow furrow back as his lilac-grey eyes stared at the egg, before his head turned back toward Baelon, almost in question.

Baelon leaned in close, kissing his forehead and cheeks, and resigning himself to a single cheek kiss for Aemon, who was still entranced by the egg.

“How are they?” he asked.

There was good color in their cheeks. Jon’s breathing sounded slightly congested, but that was not entirely unusual for newborn babes. Daemon’s nostrils had whistled fiercely for a period of four weeks, which Alyssa had found hilarious, calling him her little tea kettle.

“They remain healthy,” Rhea said. “Maester Therbold examined them just this morning. They have gained nearly half a pound over the week.”

They looked just as tiny to Baelon as when he had first held them, fresh from the womb, weighing barely five pounds each. He picked Jon up, cradling him in his arms as he tried to gauge whether he was truly larger. Once they have reached ten pounds, Baelon decided, then the worst of the threat is past.

Weight gain was far more important than weight itself, he knew. He had seen his little brothers succumb within their first year, as had his Aegon. Healthy lungs and healthy suckling were the mark of a babe who would live to see his first name day.

“You must drink heartily of your nurse’s breast,” he murmured to Jon, whose gaze turned cross-eyed as it tried to focus on the finger Baelon brought to trace the line of his tiny nose. “And see that your brother does the same.”

Aemon was more reluctant to be parted from the dragon eggs, expressing his affront with wailing that he usually reserved for Daemon first thing in the morning, but Baelon rocked him until it subsided, promising he would not be parted from their eggs for long.

“It is my father’s command that the eggs be under guard at all hours,” he said, glancing up at Rhea. “He requested that only your most trusted knights be tasked with the duty.”

She frowned. “There are none more honorable than knights of the Vale, my lord.”

“It is not their honor that the king would question,” Baelon said, well-accustomed to creatively interpreting his father’s sentiments. “Only their seasoning. Some will be more experienced than others, and those are who he seeks.”

“Very well,” Rhea said, her ruffled feathers soothed, “I know who I would appoint to the task.”

They are both of them so prideful, Baelon thought, not for the first time. It was partly why they had clashed early on, he suspected, though Daemon’s simmering resentment of the match had not helped matters. He glanced at his son, who still looked a bit lost on how to occupy himself in the nursery.

Daemon’s youth did not help matters either. He had grown up on tales of Aegon’s Conquest, of his grandfather’s heroic struggles against Maegor, of their family’s bloody quarrels with the Faith. He saw Baelon as a hero, as he had Aemon, and longed for the glory they had achieved on dragonback against the foes of the Crown. As proud as he was, he desired more to be worthy of such pride.

He is too young to understand that often such opportunities arise all on their own, and can bring sorrow as easily as accolades.

Baelon focused his gaze back on the twins, until the clench in his jaw had relaxed. They were watching him intently, Aemon with that concern so like his brother’s. He had always known when Baelon was upset, often before he did. They are such bright little flames, my son’s babes.

He let himself sink deeper into his chair, lulled by its comfort and their warmth, fatigue settling in until the door opened, at which point he straightened to alertness, but it was merely a servant bearing hot bread and cold cuts of meat, alongside a vegetable-laden soup. Baelon reluctantly surrendered the twins to their parents, one apiece, and took his meal.

“They are sweet babes,” Rhea said, smiling down at Aemon who smiled back at her.

“That must be your doing,” Baelon said, casting an amused look at his son. “Daemon was the loudest babe the Red Keep has heard. ‘Riotously upset with the world,’ is how my father described him.”

“I cannot imagine,” Rhea murmured, with a sly glance of her own toward Daemon.

Rather than bristle at the slight, Daemon merely shook his head at Jon. “Rest assured, I shall never tell such unkind tales of your infancy.”

Such was a great relief to Jon, judging by the smell that rose afterward, and Daemon quickly raised him up out of his lap, holding him up by the armpits to stern admonitions from both Baelon and Rhea until he adjusted his grip to support his head.

The nurse was summoned to change his linens, and then Aemon’s shortly after, and Baelon shared what little conversation he had managed in his short time at the Red Keep. Rhea seemed less than pleased at the king’s interference with Jon’s name, mollified only slightly by Baelon’s suggestion that they call him by “Jon” to reduce confusion, whatever his recorded name might be.

“I shall call him both,” Daemon said stubbornly. “Baelon is his name.”

Rhea’s expression turned to alarm upon learning that he had invited his mother and sister to visit as they liked, since the babes were too young themselves to travel. “I shall need notice of their arrival,” she insisted. “So that Runestone may extend a proper welcome to our queen.”

Her feelings on the king considering a tourney for their first name day, should their health continue to prove hearty, seemed mixed. Baelon did not blame her. He doubted she had realized how extensive the Crown’s interference would be once she bore sons. After Aemon’s death without a male heir, their father was eager to demonstrate the stability of Baelon’s succession to the realm: two sons, and two grandsons.

His father would be content to let the twins spend their first year in Runestone. But as for the second—he doubtless would insist that they be brought to King’s Landing along with the dragon eggs, if they had not yet hatched. For a proud lady of a proud house, to have control wrested away of her own heirs would likely rankle.

That is a matter for my mother to address, as this match was her own doing. Even the outcome was the intended one: a scion of House Targaryen eventually in control of a powerful holding in the Vale.

But that was a trouble for another day, and far less of an issue if Viserys and Aemma had a son of their own. Baelon rubbed at his heavy eyes. If that is even possible. His father’s pressure for more heirs had meant that Aemma had been made a mother too young. The Grand Maester himself had admitted that such could complicate future births, even setting aside the miscarriages since.

Childbirth has not been kind to our house.

“You look awful,” Daemon informed him, ever the diplomat. “You should take some rest.”

Baelon nodded, too tired to argue. “I shall sleep here, in the nursery.”

His son and good-daughter exchanged a look, but did not protest. Rhea merely sent for the blankets to be replaced, and his pillow brought from his guest chamber. By then, his grandsons had been cleaned and changed and given yet another meal that had left them just as sleepy.

“They were as hungry as ever, my prince,” the wetnurse assured him when he asked about the feeding.

A troubling thought occurred to him. “Is there enough milk for two? Is another nurse needed?”

“There is plenty of milk to nurse them until full, my prince.”

The twins seemed content enough, Jon letting out a soft burp before being transferred back to his cradle. The egg between them was moved to the bottom of the cradle, beside the other, and the babes nestled against one another as their faces went soft with sleep.

The dragon eggs will protect them. Baelon gave them each another kiss, then grabbed his grown son to kiss his own cheek. “Go, take a ride on Caraxes.”

His son’s expression turned furtive. “I did not—”

“I know you have not ridden him since my departure.” His son’s dragon had fixed him with the baleful look he had worn whenever Aemon had neglected him for a few days. “Go. Vhagar and I are here to protect them in your absence.” He nodded toward Rhea. “As are your wife and her knights.”

Daemon brightened, the serious expression he had worn too often since the twins’ birth lifting. “I shall see you after your nap with the babes, then.” It was Baelon’s turn for a kiss to the cheek, and then, after a moment of hesitation, Rhea’s.

Baelon settled gratefully into the softness of the bed, satisfied with the quality of the feather mattress. Their nurse should be in comfort, after all, to provide them the best care. Hopefully she did not begrudge him a few hours’ use of her bed.

He closed his eyes, and let Jon’s snuffling snores carry him away to oblivion.

[xetlynn]

an artists muse- a viktor fanfic.

six.

[five] [six] [seven]

empty tomorrow of its sorrows.

Plopping down in a swivel chair after getting ready for the day you scroll on Instagram. Humming a quiet tune as you check your own following on your art account. It has been a while since you stalked yourself, you wanted to see if there were any new accounts that had followed you since the last time you scanned through it. 

The first person on the top of that little list wasn’t who you were expecting. Smiling you clicked on his account. Viktor. 

You go through his stuff like you hadn’t done it a million times before after meeting him. You were actually about to go meet him at the cafe.

Seeing him on Saturday shocked you, you didn’t think it was his scene. It really wasn’t but his friends kept him company. You would’ve too if you weren’t running around, helping your friends and making sure they weren’t getting too drunk. You tried to speak with Viktor whenever you had the chance though. 

Now going through his following you see a familiar name that makes your heart drop to your stomach. A mutual with the art account, m.herald2077. Viktor knows him?

M.herald2077 didn’t block you on your art account? Wait. 

That’s right, he got logged out of this account. You were on the phone with him when it happened. He couldn’t remember the password and when he blocked you on everything you couldn’t get yourself to unfollow this stupid account that wasn’t being controlled by anyone anymore. 

“Is he Ma?” You whispered, standing up from your spot and beginning to panic. They have similar accents. They could be related?

No, his highlight is labeled Ma. That’s what you called him. They have to be the same person. A lump builds in your throat. You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to. They were the same person. 

Tears stream down your cheeks as your chest heaves. You grip at the skin, practically clawing at it. The memories flooding in your head. 

“Why would you say that?” His voice breaks and you wrack out a sob. “Ma, I swear! It wasn’t me, I promise! My friend- ugh she took my phone while I was in the bathroom, I’m just now seeing these messages!” You cry out, pleading with your friend to trust you. “How would she know such… private details I told you?” He asks, holding back his own tears, rereading the words on his screen that had come from your account. 

“I had vented to her, I was upset for you and I just. I thought I could trust her! It’s so not right what I did. I’m sorry! But I swear, I would never think those things!” You stammer, the other line goes quiet. “I don't think I can’t trust you anymore… I’m sorry but wow. I- I gotta go. Live a nice life.” And before you could say anything the phone hung up. 

Leaving you to wail, crying into a pillow as you had just lost one of the closest friends you’ve ever had. 

“Sh-shit.” You squeeze your eyes shut, the liquid from your eyes dripping right down the flesh of your face. You open your phone back up, going to the old account. You knew he’d never see it. You typed out a long, long paragraph. Apologizing, explaining what you never got to over that phone call. Rubbing your lips together, the screen gets blurry at moments when your tears built up, forcing you to blink them away.  

You read it over numerous times before your shaky finger presses send. You close out of it. Staring at the time. 

Now you have to go see Viktor after this discovery. Your heart tightening. You felt like throwing up. How could you look him in the face and not tell him you hurt him the way you did years ago. 

You didn’t know what to do. You could cancel on him. Avoid the cafe for the rest of your life. Switch your chem class. Never see him, protect him from you. He’d never know. 

No. You couldn’t do that. He doesn’t deserve you to treat him horribly twice in his life. Maybe this can be a redo. He’ll never know it was you. And after this semester if you don’t end up having classes with one another again you can go your separate ways and never speak.

Not hurting either person. 

Hopefully.

You grab your backpack, slipping it over your shoulders. You wiped the wetness off of your face. Sniffling to try and hide the evidence of crying.

Viktor takes a sip of his hot, roasted black coffee. Tapping the table as he focused his attention on his laptop screen. Looking over the rules of the Chemistry project he and [Name] had to do together. Figuring out a set plan for the two.

Beside his device was an iced coffee, the cup covered in condensation. With that there’s a cherry danish sitting there. He had also grabbed multiple creamers and sugars that you could put in the cup yourself since he had seen you do it a few times. 

Every time the little bell rings from the front of the cafe his eyes would flicker over. Hoping that it was you even though you said you weren’t going to be there until 7:15. The same time every day. He checked the time, it was 7:14. 

And there you are right as it hits 15. You were rushing inside, wearing a baseball cap that covered your eyes. 

You make a b-line straight for Viktor’s normal spot, climbing into the booth. “Goodmorning!” You beamed, averting eye contact as you pulled out a notebook.

“Goodmorning,” One brow is raised as he observes you, you wouldn’t lift your head up as you immediately start to jot things down on the paper. “You seem… in a rush?” He inquires, sliding the iced coffee over along with the cherry danish. “Weren’t even going to order anything today?” Your movements freeze in place as your orbs land on them. 

You weren’t going to get yourself anything. On your way over you kept telling yourself you didn’t deserve to treat yourself like you normally do. You ogle at the nourishment in front of you. Tears build at the sight. Viktor watches how your face seems solemn. Your mouth stuck shut but your chin was quivering. A single tear falling down your left cheek. 

You were quick to wipe it away. Replacing your sad expression with a forced happy one. “Thank you so much!” You give him a close-eyed smile. “I’ll have to pay you back when I can!” You let out a raspy laugh, taking a bite of the cherry goodness. Since you lifted your head, he could see how puffy your eyes were. They were also red and a bit irritated signifying that you had been crying recently. 

“Why would you pay me back?” He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows knitted together. He was worried to say the least. “I um,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Because you didn’t have to do this! I’d feel bad not paying you for this!” You tell him, avoiding his gaze once again. 

“[Name], it’s what friends do. I don’t want your money. Plus you got me that coconut puff the other day. Should I pay you back for that?” His hand goes over to yours that was laid on the table. You shoot your head up. “No! I wouldn’t take your money even if you forced it into my hand!” You tell him with an angry expression and he chuckles. 

“Exactly. See. You’re not giving me anything for this either.” He pats the top of your hand before going back to his laptop. You stare at him for a few moments. Thinking about how you didn’t deserve this. 

You didn’t deserve an ounce of kindness from Viktor. 

You picked up the danish, slowly eating it. It would be rude if you wasted it. 

You notice the sugar packets and the little creamers alongside the iced coffee. You smile down at it. How’d he know? You open the lid of the drink, ripping open the first packet. Viktor peeked over to you. He pondered on what was wrong. Wondering if he should ask or not. But at the same time you clearly did not want to talk about it. You seemed like the type that if you wanted to you would’ve already done it. 

“So, you know our project? For Chem?” He speaks up, mentally cursing at himself because that’s what he chose to say? “Oh, yeah! What about it?” You close the lid of your coffee, taking a drink of it. 

“Well, I was thinking we should get that started. Maybe this weekend?” He offers, your gaze hardens a little bit before you smile.

Viktor takes note of every movement you make. How your demeanor is frequently changing. Like your mind is fighting with itself. “Sounds good! If we go to my place I’ll tell my roommate to not bother us for a few hours!” You snicker, knowing you literally will shut Powder out and tell her to go somewhere with herself for the day. 

“We could go to mine, I don’t have a roommate.” He shrugs his shoulders, wanting to make it simple for the both of you. “Oh that’s even better!” You gleam and he smiles. “Let’s do it on Saturday then, maybe around 1?” 

“Perfect.” You nod your head. 

You get a text from Viktor as you’re heading off campus, it was 2 pm and you had just finished your last class of the day. You look at your screen for a moment before opening the message. 

—------------------------------------------------

vik.tor_e- meet me outside science building in ten minutes?

love.[name]3- ok, im like two minutes from it 

vik.tor_e- i’ll be here 

love.[name]3- why’d you say in ten minutes then!? Lol

vik.tor_e- wanted to give you time >:(

love.[name]3- so silly :P

—-------------------------------------------------

You laugh at the boy, shaking your head as you redirect yourself to start heading to the science building. Picking up your pace now that you know he’s already there. You wondered what he could want to talk about.

The anxiety in the back of your mind was telling you that he had found out. That he wanted to go to your professor and change partners. 

You push the thoughts away once your eyes land on him, he was sitting on the bench right outside the doors. He notices you at the same time, both of you giving each other little waves. 

He stands himself up and you go over to him with a slight nervous expression. “What’s up?” You smile. “I have a list of things to get for the project. I was working on it this morning.” He hands you a paper with a printed list. You stare down at it. Thinking about where to get the stuff.

 “Okay! I’ll get it all before Saturday then.” You sternly say with a positive attitude. “Well, half of it, I’m getting. I put your name by the things you need to get.” He leans in your side, showing you on the paper what he’s talking about.

You take in his scent, half paying attention to him. Feeling his warmth on your arm. You felt like a creep as you snapped out of it when he backed away. What the heck was that?

He goes to say something but a person nudges into you, stopping the both of you from talking to one another. “Heyy, [Name]. Who’s this!?”

Maddie. 

Your jaw tightens, you look down to her. “This is my friend.” You respond, not telling her his name. She squints her eyes over to the boy as he awkwardly stands there. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” She asks him, your breathing hitches. How would Maddie know Viktor? 

“Uh, I don’t think so.” He disagrees and she hums. “I know you, I swear.” She argues. She stares for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “Oh well, I’ll figure it out.” She giggles. “I just wanted to say hi to [Name]. Bye now!” She gives you a quick, one-sided hug before scurrying off. 

Your face deadpans as you watch her go away. You then look back to Viktor. “Sorry about that.” You force out a dry laugh, clearly not that amused. He can tell you had a distaste for the girl but doesn’t question it. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Catch you tomorrow at the cafe?” He asks. 

“Of course!” You grin, the two of you now going separate ways. 

Once you get to your dorm you sit on your bed, relaxing into it before you get this weird sudden urge to want to paint. Randomly motivated to do this image you have in your head.

You dig underneath your loft bed, pulling out a large canvas along with a bunch of brushes and paint. 

taglist: if you want to be added lmk! @policedeer @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @confusedgemposts @ang3lz-lov3 @almostdrowningdown @corpsepies @obittwo @bakusquadobsessed @ren-ni

[tikosblogg]

SAVE ME

Summary: you and JJ finally come forward with your feelings for each other.

Warning: SMUT. Unprotected piv.

A/N: I’m a whore for JJ Maybank. Sorry if it’s shit, and sorry for the abrupt ending it’s really late 🥲🫶🏻

The sun had just started its slow descent behind the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Outer Banks. It was picturesque—a scene straight out of a postcard—yet everything around me felt like it was unraveling. I had just left the town council meeting when chaos erupted. My one of my best friends JJ Maybank was at his absolute worst.

I had to get to him before the police did. It took all but 5 minutes to spot him in town. He was the embodiment of the wild spirit that thrived in all of us pogues; blonde hair tousled and eyes glimmering with a mix of fury and reckless defiance. With every swing of that wooden baseball bat, the glass shattered, sending echoes through the quiet streets. My heart raced not just with fear for him but with a sadness. There was something exhilarating about JJ—his antics, his bravery, his reckless abandonment. But this, this wasn’t the JJ I knew; this was a version engulfed in rage and despair.

"JJ!" I shouted, my voice slicing through the sound of breaking glass. He whipped around, breath ragged, eyes blazing like a stormy ocean.

"What are you doing here? You need to get out of here!" he yelled, his voice laced with anger, confusion, and something else I couldn’t quite place.

Before I could respond, the wailing call of police sirens echoed through the air. My gut instinct kicked in. “Just come with me!” I yelled, desperately grabbing his hand, pulling him into motion before he could protest. For a fleeting moment, I felt the warmth of his skin against mine, electrifying and terrifying. In his eyes, I saw both anger and fear; it was as if he feared losing control even more than he feared getting caught.

He didn’t resist as I dragged him into my car; his defiance had been stripped away by the overwhelming reality of our situation. I slammed the gas and the tires screeched in protest, sending us careening down familiar backroads toward the safety of my parents' house. The ride was thick with an unsaid tension.

JJ sat in the passenger seat, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of my seat, his breath still heavy. I could feel frustration radiating off him in waves. It was a mixture of fury, shame, and confusion. He was a storm of emotion. The silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the thrum of the engine and the incessant clicking of the turn signal. Minutes felt like hours as I replayed what had just happened in my head. If I were honest, a part of me found my heart racing not just from the chaos, but from being this close to him—out of everything that revolved around JJ, I was just glad he was alive.

I finally pulled up outside my house “What are we doing?” he finally broke the silence, his voice calmer now but still laced with that simmering anger.

“You’re hiding out here. This is where you’re safe,” I answered, my voice firm, tinged with an emotion I barely understood myself.

His brows furrowed, confusion and disbelief etched across his handsome face. “I can’t! I don’t want to bring you down with me.”

My heart dropped at those words. I could feel my cheeks heat as I met his fiery blue eyes. “JJ, I don’t care about any of that. You’re my friend. More than that, I—”

I stopped myself. I was teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to reveal the truth I had kept locked away for far too long. But the moment was interrupted as the sirens grew louder, closing in like a noose. He inhaled sharply, his eyes darting toward the sound.

“Come on,” I said, pushing him out of the car. “You promised me you’d be there for me. Just let me be there for you tonight.”

Reluctantly, he followed me inside. I could feel the weight of his silence, a storm brewing behind the facade of bravado he usually wore so confidently. The moment we stepped into my small living room, the atmosphere shifted; the events outside were deafening thoughts drowning in a hazy mix of adrenaline and concern.

I motioned for him to sit, needing to breathe, needing a moment to collect myself before diving into whatever was brewing in JJ's chaotic mind. He sat on the old couch, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, wrestling with the weight of his decisions.

“Why do you care so much?” he finally asked, looking up at me with a mix of gratitude and despair. “I mean, I’m just... a mess.”

“I care because you’re not just a mess, JJ.” My voice softened, and I found the courage to let my feelings spill out. “You’re so much more than that. You protect everyone, always putting your friends first. You’re fiercely loyal. You have a heart of gold buried under all the chaos.”

His eyes searched mine, vulnerability shining through the cracks of his facade. I felt the air thicken with tension as the moment hung between us, ripe with unsaid words.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice wavering. “I don’t know how to navigate this... all of this. I’m used to running away.”

“Then don’t.” I stepped closer, a surge of determination coursing through me. “Stay. Just tonight. Let me help you figure this out.”

For the first time, a flicker of something softer crossed his features. Under all his anger and bravado, there was the boy I had admired from a distance, the one I secretly loved—the one who needed help.

JJ took a deep breath, exhaling slowly like he was releasing the weight of the world. “Alright, but only for tonight. I can’t get you or the others mixed up in all of this.”

“That’s my decision to make. I wanna help you,” I said, my heart racing at the sincerity in his eyes. I led him up the creaky wooden stairs to my bedroom, my heart racing.

JJ sat on the edge of the bed, His hands had sustained multiple small cuts from all the shattered glass. I wanted to tend to those wounds.

I walked into the adjoining bathroom, the floorboards creaking under my bare feet. I ran the faucet, filling a small basin with warm water, and grabbed a soft washcloth. As I walked back to him, I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes.

Kneeling in front of him, I positioned myself between his thighs, feeling his warmth radiate towards me. His scent, a mix of the ocean and something uniquely him, filled my senses, making my head spin. I gently took his hands in mine, examining the tiny cuts on his rough palms and fingers. I felt a rush of tenderness for this man who had endured so much.

As I dipped the washcloth into the warm water, JJ's eyes never left me. There was a silent understanding between us, a connection that went beyond words. I cleaned his hands carefully, wiping away the traces of blood and dirt, my touch gentle and soothing. I could feel his eyes burning into me, his gaze intense and full of unspoken words.

When I finished, I looked up at him, my eyes locking with his deep, blue ones. A small smile played on my lips as I saw the mixed emotions reflected in his eyes. Before I could say a word, he leaned down, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that took my breath away.

His kiss was hungry, demanding, and filled with pent-up feelings. I melted into it, my body responding instinctively to his. His lips were soft yet insistent, and I could taste the saltiness of his skin, mingled with the sweetness of mouth. After what felt like forever, he pulled away, his breath warm on my face.

His eyes sparkled with unshed tears. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb gently brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I held my breath, waiting, wanting, and needing to hear what he had to say.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. Those three words sent a jolt through my body, igniting a fire in me. I felt my face flush, and my eyes widened in surprise and pure joy. The JJ Maybank just said he loved me.

Overwhelmed with my own emotions, I leaned forward, capturing his lips again. This time, I took control, pouring all my love and emotions into the kiss. I tasted the salt of his tears as they spilled onto my lips, and it only fueled me further. Our tongues danced, exploring and claiming.

Breaking away, we both struggled to catch our breath. I looked into his eyes, my own now brimming with tears. "I love you too," I whispered, my voice trembling. His smile, so beautiful, lit up his entire face.

With a gentle tug, he pulled me to straddle his lap. I could feel his dick pressing against me, as I starting against it. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. He pushed my dress up to my hips, and he untied my bathing suit bottoms.

He tossed them to the floor, before kissing me again, nipping my bottom lip in the process. I whined against his lips, as he guided my hips back and forth over him. He shoved his face back into my neck. "Ride me, baby," he whispered, his voice gravelly with need.

I wasted no time, unbuttoning his pants, and pulling him out. I almost groaned at the sight of him. I positioned myself, taking him in slowly, feeling every inch of his thick length filling me. I gasped as he stretched me, a delicious pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure. His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements as I began to ride him, my body moving in a slow rhythm.

"That's it, baby." he groaned, his hands squeezing my hips roughly. "You feel so fucking good." His words spurred me on, and I picked up the pace. He reached out, pulling my dress completely off. He all but ripped my swimsuit top off eyeing my breasts as they bounced with each thrust. I leaned forward, my hands braced on his shoulders, as I took him deeper, riding him faster.

His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, and leaving a trail of fire on my skin. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his voice rough and breathless. "My sweet, sweet girl." His praise only fueled my confidence, and I rode him harder, desperate to please him, to show him how much I loved him.

As my orgasm built, he suddenly flipped me onto my stomach, his strong arms easily maneuvering my small frame. I gasped, my face pressed into the soft pillow, my ass in the air, offering myself to him. He positioned himself behind me, his hard length sliding between my wet folds, seeking entry.

With one powerful thrust, he filled me from behind, claiming me, making me his. I cried out, my voice muffled by the pillow, as he pounded into me, his hips slamming against my ass. "You like that, huh?" he grunted, his hands gripping my hips tightly. "You love my cock inside you don't you?"

His words, so raw and filthy, only heightened my pleasure. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, our bodies slapping together in a primal rhythm. I could feel my orgasm building, a coiling tension in my core, ready to explode.

"Cum for me, mama," JJ groaned, his voice hoarse. "Let me feel that sweet pussy cum around my dick." His filthy words pushed me over the edge, and I came undone, my body shaking as waves of pleasure rippled through me. I cried out, my release intense and satisfying, my pussy pulsating around his throbbing cock.

JJ continued to thrust, his own release building. He pulled out suddenly, his hands gripping my hips, and flipped me onto my back. His eyes, wild with desire, took in my wanton display, my body still quivering from my orgasm. He spread my legs wide, exposing my glistening pussy, and dove down, his tongue replacing his cock.

His mouth devoured me, his tongue lapping at my sensitive flesh, sending me spiraling into another climax. "Good girl," he murmured against my throbbing clit, his breath hot and moist. "One more baby." His skilled tongue and fingers brought me to the brink once more, and I cried out, my body arching off the bed as I surrendered to the pleasure.

He rose above me, his cock glistening with my wetness, and positioned himself at my entrance. With one smooth thrust, he slid back inside, filling me completely. He began to move, his pace slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "I love you, Y/N," he panted, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so fucking much."

His words, spoken between ragged breaths, sent a new wave of desire coursing through me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on.

As his orgasm built, our movements became more frantic, our breaths coming in short gasps. "Cum with me, baby," I pleaded, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, JJ, I need you."

His eyes rolled back as he thrust into me one final time, his body tensing, and he exploded inside me, his hot seed filling me. I came again, my pussy milking him.

Exhausted and fulfilled, we collapsed in a heap, our bodies still intertwined. JJ's heavy frame pressed me into the soft mattress, his heart pounding against my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair, my lips finding his in a soft, tender kiss.

[possessiveandobsessive]

Another Lucanis Obsessed Post

It's only a problem if we call it that...

**Spoilers for late game events in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. If you havent finished and care about being spoiled, stay away!**

Something I think about a lot is Lucanis's reaction to Rook being pulled into the fade after they kill Ghilan'nain. This kind of scene is definitely making it into my current work, but I need to get it out of my brain.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lucanis is riding a magnificent high for all of a minute. He just killed one of his two targets. A GOD. Finally, he completed the contract that slipped through his fingers so narrowly last time. He has this blissful, thrill of adrenaline singing through his veins. And then, it's all gone in an instant.

The hot blood that had been rushing through his limbs following his vistory turns to ice at once when he realizes: she is gone. The woman who had believed in him from the start. The one person who never once had looked at him with disgust or fear. The woman who had only just broken through the last of his walls and now held his heart. Lucanis can see her smile, can see her head thrown back in laughter at some silly comment he made. And then he watches as all that fades out of his view. She was GONE, and she took his heart, his soul with her. He never got the chance to tell her...

Lucanis can faintly hear a raw, primal, and broken wail. It sounds distant at first, before he realizes it's coming from him. The agonized scream tears from his chest violently without him even realizing. An enraged chant fills his mind and blinds him to his surroundings. His vision fills with only a blinding purple light and all he can hear, all he can think is, "GONE. TAKEN. GONE. LOST. OURS. OUR ROOK IS GONE. MUST GET HER, MUST SAVE HER, MUST HAVE HIS BLOOD. GONE. GONE...."

The chanting, screaming really, continues over and over. Each word caused pain anew to cut through him like a blade. He had already lost everything, become a monster, and now he was losing the one thing that kept him tethered to this reality. She was the one thing that made him feel human. Rook trusted him even when he couldn't yet trust himself. And the elven god of lies and betrayal had just stolen her from him.

Lucanis was dimly aware of shouts directed at him and hands pulling at his arms and shoulders. The team must be trying to stop him from completely destroying, leveling, everything in his immediate vicinity. All he knew now was this pain fueled rampage. Their pain fueled rampage. Spite and he are currently of one mind. They always are when it comes to Rook.

Suddenly, he feels a wave of magic wash over his body. Lucanis shudders as his bones seem to turn to liquid and his body begins to feel as of it weighed thousands of pounds. His eyes were closing against his will, and he could hear Spite's screams grow more desperate as they both were pulled under into a deep nothing. The last conscious thought Lucanis had was of her face, terrified and screaming his name as she disappeared in a flash of light.

I will find you Rook, NOTHING CAN KEEP YOU FROM US....

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You're welcome for the devastation! If it lives in my head rent free then it also gets to live in yours 🥲 Look forward to a more fleshed out version of this scene later in my current work in process: The Spirit of Determination.

[koyagifs]

𝓯𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

pairing: yeosang x reader au: non idol | established relationship | lovers to exes | aged up yeo genre: angst word count: 1.090 words summary: catching your husband cheating was one heart break, but to find out your step daughter knew as well, well...that's your whole light fading. warning(s): -

Tears stung your eyes as you held your son in your arms, his wails piercing through the suffocating silence of the room. You cradled him tightly, trying to offer comfort even as your heart shattered. In your other hand, Yeosang's phone felt like a lead weight. The messages, the pictures—it had all been going on for years. You couldn’t understand how he could betray not just you, but the family you had built together.

The relentless banging on the back door continued, a desperate rhythm that mirrored your turmoil. You knew you had to confront him, but part of you wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening, to escape the pain. The thought of facing him made your stomach churn, but the anger bubbled just beneath the surface.

“Please, let it be over,” you whispered to yourself, wishing for clarity amid the chaos.

Finally, you set your son down in his crib, his tiny face still scrunched up in distress. You took a deep breath and wiped your tears, steeling yourself for what was to come. With the phone gripped tightly in your hand, you walked to the back door.

“Yeosang!” you shouted, opening it to reveal him, disheveled and panicked. The moment your eyes met, a wave of emotions washed over you—anger, heartbreak, and a flicker of what once was.

“Please, let me explain,” he began, his voice shaky.

“Explain what?” you interrupted, holding up the phone, the evidence hanging heavy between you. “You’ve lied for years. What could possibly justify this?”

His expression faltered, and for a moment, he seemed lost. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I could stop—”

“Stop?” you spat, the pain spilling over. “You thought you could just continue this charade? You’ve destroyed everything!”

" what's going on ?"

You both turned to see your step daughter, Minji, confusion stuck on her face as she tried to figure out what was going on. The tension in the air was palpable as you locked eyes with Minji. Her face was etched with confusion, her brow furrowed as she took in the scene—your tear-streaked face, Yeosang’s panic, and the phone clutched tightly in your hand.

"dad?"

Yeosang shook his head, and that small gesture made your heart drop. It was as if his silent plea for Minji to stay out of this shattered any hope you had left. The weight of his betrayal, combined with the fact that Minji stood there, caught in the middle of it all, made everything feel surreal.

“Dad?” Minji asked again, her voice trembling, a mix of fear and uncertainty coloring her tone. She looked at him for answers, for reassurance, but he offered none.

You could barely breathe, the betrayal gnawing at your insides. “Minji,” you began, trying to hold yourself together. “Did you know?”

Her eyes darted back to you, her confusion deepening. “Know what?” she asked, her voice small. But the way her gaze faltered as she looked at Yeosang told you she knew more than she was letting on.

“You knew,” you accused, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “You knew what he was doing and said nothing.”

he words that came from Minji hit you like a physical blow.

"Of course I did. You would always tell me no, and I—"

“Minji, stop,” Yeosang interrupted sharply, his voice filled with panic, as if he knew exactly where this was headed. But it was too late. The words were out, hanging heavy between you.

Your world tilted on its axis as you tried to process what she had just said. “Tell you no?” you echoed, your voice low, incredulous.

Your breath caught in your throat as Minji's words cut through the air like a knife. “Every single time I tried to hang out with my friends,” she continued, her voice shaking with a mixture of frustration and hurt, “you always had some reason to say no. She acted more like a mother to me than you ever did.”

“Minji!” Yeosang shouted, his voice laced with panic, stepping forward to stop her from saying any more, but Minji was already spiraling.

Her words hung in the air, raw and devastating. You felt like the ground was crumbling beneath you, everything you had believed about your family, about Minji, slipping away.

Yeosang stepped forward, trying to intervene. “Minji, please, that’s enough—”

“No, it’s not enough,” you cut him off, your voice filled with anguish. “It’s not enough because she’s right, isn’t she? You let her believe this was my fault. You let her think I was the one keeping her from you, while you were off destroying our family.”

Yeosang’s face crumpled, but there was no denying the truth now. The guilt in his eyes confirmed it.

Minji sobbed, her small frame shaking with emotion. And as much as you wanted to hate her for knowing, for keeping this secret, you couldn’t. She was hurting too—maybe even more than you realized.

You let her words hang in the air as Yeosang looked everywhere but you.

You let her words hang in the air, the accusations and hurt simmering between you all. Yeosang stood there, his eyes darting everywhere but toward you. He couldn’t meet your gaze, not after everything. The silence between you both was suffocating, but the decision in your mind was already made.

“I’m taking Mon,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “And I’m going to my parents’.”

The words were simple, but their meaning hung heavy in the room. This wasn’t just about leaving the house for a night—it was a declaration. You were stepping away from the wreckage, choosing to take your son and leave this shattered reality behind.

Yeosang finally looked at you, his face pale and filled with regret. “Please,” he started, his voice breaking. “Can we just talk about this? Don’t make any rash decisions.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the desperation in his voice almost pulling you back. But the trust was broken. There was no fixing this, at least not now.

“Rash?” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “This isn’t rash, Yeosang. This has been years in the making. I just didn’t see it. But now I do.”

His expression crumpled as the reality of what you were saying sank in. “You don’t have to go,” he pleaded softly, but you could see in his eyes that he knew it was already too late.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m leaving,” you said again, more firmly this time. “I need space. For me, and for Mon. I can’t be here right now.”

Without another word, you turned away and headed for the bedroom, your heart heavy with the weight of the decisions you were making. You packed a small bag for Mon, grabbing his essentials and carefully placing him in his car seat. As he fussed, you gently shushed him, your heart breaking as you kissed his forehead. He didn’t understand what was happening, and that made it even harder.

[websterss]

TILL DEATH DO US PART — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

REQUEST: okay so i’ve thought about sending requests your way and my mind came up blank except for a reversed-roles kinda thing for lockwood & co, in which that scene from the last episode where lucy goes to george to save him from the crazy lady (forgot her name) with the bone mirror, instead it’s reader but she doesn’t handle it as well as lucy and pass out or something (your choice, i just want angst) and although lockwood has been shot in the shoulder, he doesn’t care. all he cares about is if reader is gonna be okay 👀 (i just want some good ol’ angst written by you so i can die a little bit inside but also thrive in reading your writing 🥺🫶🏼)

WARNING(S): angst, some fluff at the end

WORD COUNT: 4,214

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You didn’t quite know how you three had managed to end up locked in an underground cellar with Pamela. You couldn’t so much as put the fault onto George. He had put his sole faith and trust into their supposed friendship. He was too swayed by what he thought were good intentions, only to realize they were nothing but sick twisted purposes. Purposes that were going to put so many others at risk. 

“Please!” George begged. “Lucy, don't he’ll kill you.”

“Don’t you dare look, and whatever happens this wasn’t your fault. This was my choice.”

“Lucy, don't you dare.” You groan after having been jostled and shoved to the ground as George had. 

Lucy just turned to you, her features softening as she whispered with pure sincerity and concern in her voice. Her soft-as-the-sky eyes glowed in the darkness like twin lanterns and with a little sigh she replied, “…I have to.”

"No. You don't. We all get to make choices, and I'm making mine now." You walk up to her and hit her with the hilt of your rapier.  You hold your breath as she falls unconscious. You're quick to drag her over to George where he remains on the ground. "S-Shield her eyes, and whatever happens...don't look." You nod firmly at George.

George didn’t hesitate, shielding Lucy from the horror unfolding before them, but couldn’t help looking back to you. He seemed both concerned and terrified at the same time. “Lockwood won't like this!"

"He'll get over it!" You take your place in front of the mirror. Eyes flickering back and forth between Pamela and the covered mirror.

The air around you feels thick and oppressive. You feel sick and dizzy as the sense of impending doom and horror fills your body with a paralyzing chill. You look at the mirror, at Pamela, and the thought of what is to come sears across your mind.

You take a deep breath. With shaking hands, you await her response. “Tell me everything you see, what you feel, and what you hear.” She yanks a pin out from her hair. Then points the recorder towards you. “Every detail.” She says as a final word, then yanks back the cloth. You turn around immediately, feeling a rush of air and suction claw on the back of your hair and shoulders. “Look, look, look. Damn you, look!” Pamela exclaims.

You gasp as you reach forward, grabbing the silver-glass jar, the skull, and hold it out behind you to look at the mirror in your place.

"If you can talk to it, tell me what it says.”

You groan, closing your eyes tightly, trying to fight off the urge to look into the horrid mirror. You growl as you yell back to the damned skull. "Talk...Take it all in and tell your master what you see." Lockwood and George, even Lucy had been astonished when you all discovered that you could also communicate and hear the type three ghost. Your heart plummets as you hear the skull begin to wail.

“No, no, no, this isn’t right! Something’s changed!” Your breath shudders upon the information he has given you. “They’re trapped!”

“What? What? What is he saying? Speak, girl Speak!” Pamela grips her recorder tighter.

“It says something is wrong!”

“More!”

“It’s a trap. We have to destroy it!” You begin to whimper as it all grows to be too much for you to handle. You hold your breath as glimpses of your past flash in your mind. Stills of your parents before your tenth birthday. Finding them ghost-locked after coming home from Fittes. Horrid wretched flashes and faces of previous visitors you and the boys were called on to take a job about. Being pinned by a type two. Your breath grows cold upon being nearly ghost-locked yourself. But the one vision that struck you the most, that made you lose your grip on making it through this was seeing yourself hold Anthony in your arms as his eyes were milky, his brown irises glazed over white and still. You could see yourself crying and begging him to come back to you. Your eyes shot upon with a startle. You could feel yourself loosen your hold on the jar before you took it down with you to the ground. All you could hear was a faint yell of your name before you slipped into the dark void that clouded your mind.

“Y/n!” George hadn’t even hesitated to get onto his feet to tackle down the stand holding the mirror. 

“No!” Pamela cries out. George ran back over to where you lay unconscious. His hands were still tied behind his back but he still attempted to check for your pulse. He visibly relaxed as he came to feel your pulse thump against his skin. 

“You’re alright, you’re alright now...Lockwood will come soon and it’ll all be over soon.” He flinched, looking over his shoulder as he heard shuffling to his right. Lucy groaned, clutching at her head as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“Blood hell...” She complained, but one look at your unmoving body had her scooting closer to the two of you. She reached forward, brushing a few strands out from your face. Her palm resting against your cheek. “Is she...” She raised a brow at George. Thinking the worst of the worst. Your death at the hands of Pamela.

“No. She’s alright. Assumed the mirror struck her energy a bit. It was too much for her to handle.” 

“Lockwood is gonna-”

“Kill us.”

“I was going to say put her on house arrest but sure let’s assume the worst reactions possible. 

“Before we arrived. He practically begged her to run off and call DEPRAC. She was top priority...” Lucy muttered to herself thinking back on what Lockwood debriefed before they came to face Pamela. 

“Top priority?” George questioned. “Y/n?”

“Before we left, he mentioned how the mirror came close to being our second priority. I asked him out of curiosity what the first priority was. He didn’t answer me.” Lucy looks down at you with a new sense of understanding. The bond you and Lockwood shared was one like no other. Two souls brought together by unfathomable circumstances. Orphaned from the same cause, the same path that lead your loved ones to be unalive. To halves that made a whole. Who understood what was put at risk every day you stepped out into London’s busy and haunted streets. You both knew the sacrifices that were the hardest to make, but you both took them on over Lucy and George having to. The little family you both found yourselves, you put your whole lives and trust into. You were everything to one another, and that was a risk in itself. “Lockwood is going to have our heads...” She breathed out in realization.

“I think he knows that already.”

“What?” George gestured behind her with a grimace. Lockwood was standing a few feet away, clutching his shoulder. His eyes rotated from Lucy and George and onto your unmoving form. 

“Shit...” Lucy swallowed nervously as he let his rapier clatter to the floor. 

“Is she?” Lockwood swallowed his words down, not having the stomach to contemplate whether you remained with them or if you had finally joined alongside your parents and his. Lockwood took a few more agonizing steps towards your motionless form, his expression looking both exhausted and afraid. His fingers reach out but fall back down to his sides. He was only thankful you couldn’t see him tremble, as he held back on the urge to break down crying.  

“She’s okay...swear it.” Lucy nodded, a timid smile on her face as her eyes watered. 

Lockwood's eyes began to water from the sight. For an agent, death would be nothing more than a common occurrence. However, this was a different scenario, as a few tears streamed down his face. Before he could take another step forward, George finally free from his zip ties, carefully lifted you in a gentle motion, trying to prop you upwards. Lockwood hurried forward then, hands trembling as he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a seating position. Your head lulling sideways at an uncomfortable angle. Lockwood's eyes darted all across your form, desperately hoping to find some kind of response from you.

"She took on the mirror...It was too much for her to handle. She fainted from it." George filled him in on what occurred.

Lockwood's breaths grew out of rhythm as he kept your body in place, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His fingers trembled at a furious pace as he placed his hand against your neck, needing to feel for himself for a pulse. To reassure him that you weren’t taken from him. It was a moment that felt like hours had passed. He spoke. “Did she look at it?” They could hear the panic in his voice.

"N-No. She used the skull." Anthony glanced over to where the type three ghost swirled around, displaying its very much livelihood. He wished the same for your state.

Lockwood's sigh of relief was palpable in the atmosphere. He withdrew his head from your shoulder and pressed his head gently against yours, his eyes closing shut. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the slight thump against his fingertips on your neck, it had his entire demeanor relaxing. Though it didn't calm his nerves. "She'll be alright," he promised George, who seemed to be on the verge of panic himself. "She'll be quite alright." He muttered softly as though the tiniest change in his tone would cause him to fall apart. 

Lucy was at a crossroads, her instincts screaming at her how badly she wanted to rush into Lockwood's arms to comfort him at this moment, but she had her priorities straight. You had taken her place. This wasn’t out of the ordinary for you and it angered Lockwood because you never stopped putting yourself before others.

"She knocked me out and took my place. I wouldn't have let her if I knew-" Anthony retracted from you and looked over to Lucy, having her own breakdown.

Knowing of your bond, she knew what losing you would do to him. The last thing she wanted was to add any more stress to his plate and his already heavy heart. “I know. It’s alright Luce...” Lockwood gave her a firm nod. He then turned back to you. Lockwood was staring at what you referred to as your imperfections, a freckle here, a scar against your temple there, and the crease in your brows, to him they were what made you simply perfect in his eyes. He couldn’t help the frown on his lips, the frown on your own lips not sitting well with him. Had you fainted in pain? Were you still in pain? It didn’t shake him as badly as your closed eyes did. He wanted nothing more than to peer into them again. Find a home in them once more. He willed and hoped them to finally open so that he could see that you were alright. 

He lied, your pulse hadn’t been enough, he needed to see you awaken for him to even function correctly. He needed his mind to think about anything else, something else so he asked.

“What marvelous object did she acquire this time...” He scoffed. “My first encounter with her was with the end of an umbrella.”

"The butt of her rapier," Lucy said. "Shit hurt..." She rubbed against the side of her temple.

“A rapier?” He breathed a small laugh. “I see you weren’t quite original this time...” A small smile appeared in Lockwood's eyes as he leaned forward again. His hand lowered to wrap around your fingers, all the while as he carefully placed your head upon his shoulder. His other hand brushed against your cheek, making note of your temperature. “Her hands are getting cold.”

"Is that bad?"

“Y/n. Can you hear me?” He lifted your head from his shoulder. “Her circulation is slowing. Our time frame for waking her up is shrinking.” It's always an internal struggle for him to remain composed, but he had to be strong for the lot of them.

"Where did Pamela go?" George began panicking. He grew weary seeing her hunched over the broken mirror.      

“Leave her, George!" Lockwood let out his frustration at the situation. “She’s not our priority right now.”

“You stupid boy. You broke it!” Pamela whined.

Lockwood turned to look back at Pamela, who was whining about the broken mirror as Lucy’s attempts to bring you back to consciousness were becoming more futile. Lockwood’s patience was wearing thin, and Pamela’s words were doing nothing but adding fuel to the flames.

“We need to go! Now!” Lockwood urged the two of them. As he was already attempting to pick you up, especially with his bad shoulder still bleeding out. The exhaustion hadn’t yet reached him, his adrenaline running rampant. 

Lockwood's words were cut short as he stumbled, dropping you to the ground. His bad shoulder had given way to the exhaustion that now began to consume him. He was losing his grip on everything. “Lucy...” he was pleading now. 

“We’ve got her, let’s go!” Lucy assured his panic, and swung your arm over her shoulder, George taking your other arm.

“Don’t drop her…” Lockwood barked out, as he struggled to maintain a standing position. The exhaustion finally started to take hold of him as his knees buckled beneath him. With his body starting to tremble and lose its grasp, he let out a deep groan, his breath shallowing from the physical exertion.

"Go!" Lucy ordered out of frustration. She admired his concern and care about you but not when their lives were currently on the line and a crazy bitch was staring into the mirror she tried forcing them to look into.

He didn’t want to allow any room for arguing.

-

Anthony had fallen unconscious as the lift back up. His body lay next to yours as George, Lucy, and Kipps adjusted the both of you. The last thing Anthony recalls was lightly pressing his hand on top of yours before he succumbed to the exhaustion that ransacked his body. He felt as though a train drove right into him, though at least now he could say he’s faced down the barrel of a gun and lived to tell the tale. You’d find it humorous. You always thought highly of his jokes and gave him a laugh when most never bothered. He’d give anything to hear you bubble out of joy. See you double over from the loss of air in your chest. He’d give anything...everything.

After the paramedics patched him up and reduced him to an arm sling, he hung back as you lay on the gurney behind him. He twisted in his seat, keeping a watchful eye on you, waiting, willing the universe to spare him and have your fingers twitch, or have you shift around. He needed some peace of mind.

Though the universe was not kind, your body remained lifeless in a state of deep slumber. Lockwood’s heartbeat grew heavier the longer he waited on the back of the ambulance, his mind flooded with the worst-case scenarios. That this would be the last time, that that smile of yours that could charm anyone with ease would be lost. If he was to lose you, then he had nothing left. Nothing and no one. His hand continued to shake as he felt himself become more and more of a wreck. He couldn’t breathe...he wouldn't be able to breathe...and he knew he’d whole himself in his room if you didn’t-

“Will the Mrs live to see another day?”

Anthony looked over at Inspector Barnes. He gestured to your stilified state. He had hoped his joke would upturn the tension but if presumed he hadn’t after Lockwood scoffed and rolled his eyes, adverting his gaze away and back where they longed to remain, solely on you.

“What’d the paramedics say?” He asked again.

“She’s alright...Nothing we couldn’t figure out ourselves. The pressure from the mirror exhausted her to the point of fainting. She’s stable...she’s surpassed every checkup they ministered with flying colors...”

“Yet...” Barnes trailed off.

“They don’t have the slightest clue as to why she won’t wake up. They already tried to but...” Lockwood didn’t want to say it out loud, but speaking it into existence confirmed his worst fears, that even though your vitals were good, and your body reacted well to the fluids they gave you, something was seriously wrong, if not physically, then mentally and that scared him more than anything else. “I have this inclining...”

"Lockwood-" Barnes began.

“I know what you’re going to say. Have hope. Remain optimistic as we’ll continue to observe her, monitor her vitals, hell test her blood. But what good will that do when we’ve done it already…” He paused, the exhaustion growing with every passing moment. “What if she never wakes up?” Lockwood’s breath shudders.

“You both know of the risks–“ Barnes tries to reason.

“We’ve been in the business of risk exposure for years. We don’t expect ourselves to survive from the first encounter. But this–this feeling...” Lockwood’s voice was breaking. He couldn’t keep himself contained any longer. “I’m aware!” Lockwood snaps, his voice breaking, his eyes reddening. “All too aware, but if I’d known this would happen I’d…” His thoughts trail off, unsure of what to say anymore. His eyes kept darting back and forth between you and Barnes. He’d succumb to begging. He would. Just to see you move a little. Any kind of movement. Just one would be enough to quell his panic. 

“Taken her place?” A small knowing smile reached Barnes's brows.

Lockwood couldn’t bring himself to deny it. He took a deep breath, as he spoke in a hushed and gentle tone “I would hand myself over to death without question. Any given day.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’d rather she lose me, than I her. So yes, I’d have taken her place.” Barnes's eyes slowly flickered past his shoulder with an easing smile. He looked down to the rubble. 

“Over my dead body-” Anthony had never turned his head faster. He instantly froze. The relief that had started to wash over him at seeing you had given way to embarrassment. His own injury was forgotten. You sat up and your eyes landed on him. “Hand yourself over to death, or you mad- What the hell happened to your shoulder?” 

“That would be my leave...” Barnes pointed to his left and swiftly left the two of you.

“My shoulder? Oh, it…I was shot.” He answered as simple as that, it contained no other details, nothing to ease your concern, which led you right into interrogating him.

“Shot?” You were taken aback by his nonchalant reply. “What do you mean, shot?” You exclaim. 

“Nothing worth troubling yourself about. How do you feel?” There was an air of tension between the two of you, where everything had become so fragile. After everything that had happened, a simple statement or action would break the illusion. You were awake and animated, and giving him a piece of your mind. It didn’t feel real in the slightest.

“I…” A wave of exhaustion was still coursing through your body, a result of the exhausting ordeal that you had just undergone. The ordeal had exhausted your body so much that your brain shut down. But your physical exhaustion also masked the emotional exhaustion you were feeling. You felt out of your element; overwhelmed by everything that was now around you. Everything felt unfamiliar to you, as though you had been transported into an unknown dimension, one where your mind felt trapped. Anthony’s ghost locked body in your arms. “I don’t know...I couldn’t wake up.”

"I know- The paramedics tried everything and-"

It was impossible to say what you did and didn't remember. But from what you recall, the events of the evening were a blur. "The mirror..." You attempted to scoot closer to him. Your hands grazed against Anthony's hair. Your eyes caught sight of his shoulder, wrapped in bandages and the sling that secured it together. Was it bleeding? But it wasn’t your primary focus. You just needed to feel him. “There were so many faces, so many faces.” You breathe out a gasp. Your eyes watering. “I saw you...”

“Me?”

"You were ghost-locked. I had lost you..." Your breath hitched.

"It wasn't real. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. It wasn't real." Anthony reassured, pressing kisses against your temple.

"But what if it was...What if what the mirror showed me becomes true?"

He paused, taking a moment to contemplate your concerns. Anthony had already spent the evening playing out the worst-case scenarios, but to hear you state them verbally had somehow made them more palpable. However, a small part of him was curious whether you saw your future by the mirrors doing, or if it was just an illusion to break you mentally.

"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen." He whispered. His voice was tinged with emotion. His hands reached for yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. A sign of his promise to you.

“You can’t promise that-”

Anthony looked down at your hands, his eyes flickering between them as he attempted to focus on anything other than the overwhelming amount of emotions swirling within him, the emotions threatening to consume him whole. So he focused instead on your hands being intertwined with his, and the sight warmed him in a pleasant way he hadn't felt in many months, as the thought of possibly losing you had him filled with dread.

He leaned over and kissed your knuckles. “Did you not hear my declaration of my love for you?”

“Oh, the one where you give yourself to death- Like hell!” You yank your hand out of his with a scoff.

“Hand myself over–” He corrected you. “I’d hand myself over to death.” He continued.

“I’m about to hand you a right hook.” You throw a playful punch to his bad shoulder, forgetting his injury and rippling with regret instantly. “Oh!”

“Ow.” He groaned. “What’s the big issue?” He laughed softly. “What’s wrong with giving up my life for yours?” He teased. “You know I’d die for you.”

"You don't have my permission." You mutter softly. Bringing a hand up to brush back his hair.

As your hand brushed back his hair, Anthony couldn’t help but smile at the small gesture. He grabbed the hand you used to brush back his hair and lightly kissed the back of your hand again. “If I wanted to I would give myself over to death this very instant. I’d do just about anything for you, you know.” He replied. His gaze was now fully on you. His eyes were a deep amber, shining like two gemstones.

"And that's what scares me the most." You hum.

“It shouldn’t.” He scoffed with a smile. “Besides, I thought you valued my loyalty.” He raised a brow playfully.

"Yes. When I'm not there to defend my word. That’s when I put my whole faith in your loyalty to me...but when death comes knocking. I don't want it." Your eyes soften.

He looked away briefly, then back at you with a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t give my life to save just anyone, you know.”

"Oh, I'm aware." You fight back an amused smile. He noticed it though, he caught the smile that you attempted to mask. You were never able to conceal much around him, and that was all right. He liked seeing your emotions on full display. You were your truest self when you let your guard down around him. It made you all the more adorable that way. “And you?” He asked. “Would you give yourself to death for me?” He teased, but you knew he was serious.

Your smile widened for a moment before you caught yourself, and answered without taking a beat. You would allow him to know your fears, for the fear of seeing him suffer on your behalf was the worst feeling one could endure. That was something you hated the thought of. You didn’t quite see yourself as the more vulnerable one out of the two of you. Deep down Anthony conquered his inner demons through you, shared his past, his troubles, and confessed his deepest fears to you. You’d help him without any hesitation. You would do anything for the bloke, even if that meant going as far as sacrificing your own life for the sake of him getting to keep his, you would do it, and you’d do it in a heartbeat no less.

“Any given day.” One glance into your eyes and Anthony knew. He knew you would keep that promise till death tethered on whose hand to take. When? Well, you’d never truly know for sure.

Content with your answer, he leans in and kisses your cheek softly. You relax into his touch, your lashes brushing down on top of your under-eyes. He pulls away with a stupid grin. His eyes filled with want and mischief, your favorite combination.

[oneshotnewbie]

Could I please have an imagine where the reader is somehow related to Travis and is transferred to station 19. When she meets everyone they all immediately like her. As time goes on Vic notices herself feeling weird around the reader. She tries to ignore the butterflies she feels and just starts acting weird. The others notice this, but only Maya figures out why. She tries to convince Vic to admit her feelings. And she does so after the reader gets hurt. Fluffy and angsty please?

ᕚ---ᕘ

The golden rays of the mid-morning sun slowly began to obscure the view as the wailing song of ambulance sirens permeated the busy streets of Seattle. Travis Montgomery, a veteran firefighter from the venerable Station 19, steered the emergency vehicle through the maze of streets with calm determination. His eyes were focused on the asphalt as his mind wandered to thoughts of the new recruit's impending arrival. Inside him, the anticipation of the upcoming reinforcements weighed against the uncertainty and excitement that came with each new addition. But Travis was confident that the team would receive a valuable addition to meet the challenges of the coming missions.

For several days, Travis and his comrades had been looking forward to the arrival of their new team member. The atmosphere in the station was electric, full of eager anticipation and quiet speculation about the person who would soon join their team. Yet in all their excitement and imagination, they had no idea of the deep, hidden connection their newest member shared with Travis.

Unbeknownst to them, this new recruit had a history with him that went far beyond the professional. A story that lay hidden in the unexplored depths of the past, now waiting to be revealed.

The ambulance slid smoothly into the fire department yard, accompanied by a muffled crunch as it came to a stop. Travis, fueled by excitement, jumped energetically out of the ambulance and rushed over to help unload the equipment. The other members of the team were already gathered outside, their gestures and looks full of anticipation for the arrival of the new team member.

Amid the hustle and bustle of unloading and preparation, an atmosphere of curiosity permeated the air. Everyone felt the tension that came with meeting a new member of the team and the hope that this person would enrich and strengthen the dynamic of the group.

As Travis and the others went about their work getting everything ready for the reception, they couldn't wait to finally meet you, who would soon complete their firefighter family. They waited anxiously to see who would walk through the door and how this new dynamic would shape their work and relationships.

With a sudden screech of tires, the sound pierced the air, and Travis's heart began to pulse to the rhythm of the excited drumbeats as a car rounded the corner. The door of the vehicle swung open and a young woman emerged from it. You radiated an aura of determination, tall and regal, your hair dancing wildly in the wind as a lively smile graced your lips.

Travis found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you as you gracefully walked towards him. “Hey, Trav!” came your cheerful voice as he walked up to you and wrapped you in a warm hug. "It's so great to see you again."

The rest of the team watched the scene with curious but confused looks as he took you in his embrace and placed a tentative kiss on your cheek. To them, you were a stranger, and the way you hugged and spoke to Travis sparked a mystery in their minds that was waiting to be solved.

Travis cleared his throat gently and then turned to his assembled colleagues, his arm lingering on your shoulder. “Guys, allow me to introduce you to my sister, y/n,” he explained with a wide, proud grin. "She will be part of our team from today."

A quiet murmur of surprise ran through the ranks of firefighters as they realized he had a sister they had never known about. But this surprise quickly gave way to joy when they noticed your lively charisma and intoxicating smile.

"My God, Travis, why didn't you ever tell us about her?" exclaimed Jack Gibson, one of the most experienced firefighters, his eyes full of admiration and curiosity. Travis shrugged slightly, his grin beaming from ear to ear as he let his gaze wander over to you. "I thought a little surprise would be nice," he replied with a mischievous wink.

Vic Hughes, the firefighter with the vivacious spirit and a heart of gold, was among the first to wrap her arms around you. "Welcome to the team, y/n! It's really great to meet you," her voice echoed with enthusiasm as she hugged you tightly. "I can't wait to work side by side with you."

Andy Herrera, the respected leader of the station and a source of inspiration to all, looked at you with a benevolent smile. "Travis told us absolutely nothing about you," she said warmly with a giggle. "But it's wonderful to finally meet you and work with you."

Ben Warren, the former surgeon who decided to pursue his calling as a firefighter, was impressed by your expertise and dedication. Although he had heard a lot about you from the Los Angeles Fire Department, he had never thought that you could be Travis' little sister. “It’s rare to find someone with your level of experience and passion for this profession,” he remarked appreciatively, extending a hand to you, which you gratefully accepted. "We feel truly blessed to have you among our ranks."

Dean Miller, the quiet and thoughtful firefighter, also quickly found a connection with you. “If you ever need help or have questions, I’m here for you,” he assured you with a warm smile. "We stick together, no matter what."

Travis watched with a pride that made his heart swell as his team immediately welcomed you into their community. It was a relief for him to see how smoothly you fit into the dynamic of the station and how strong the bonds of togetherness were already at that moment.

The warm welcome from other team members enveloped you like a warm hug as you were invited to join them and explore the station. It quickly became clear that you were not only Travis' sister, but also an experienced firefighter who was eager to join the new team. They roamed the corridors of the station together with you, and Travis could feel a deep gratitude welling up within him. It was a moment of fullness in which he realized that he could now share not only his passion for his job, but also a part of his family with his closest friends.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Known for her determination and fiery personality, Vic Hughes usually felt confident in any situation. But ever since your appearance at Station 19, she began to feel in a way that confused herself.

It started subtly, with an unusual fluttering of her heart whenever she was near you. Vic tried to ignore these sensations and instead concentrate on her work, but the more time she spent with you, the more intense the butterflies in her stomach became.

She noticed how her thoughts revolved around you more and more often, how she looked forward to every meeting with you and eagerly waited to see you again when you were apart. But Vic didn't know how to deal with these feelings. She had never felt for a woman before, and the fact that it was you, her best friends sister, only made things more complicated.

In her confusion, Vic began to behave in unusual ways. She avoided your gaze and tried to stay away from you, worried that her feelings for you would become too obvious. A reserve and aloofness began to appear in her behavior, which did not go unnoticed by the other team members.

Maya Bishop, the station's mindful soul, sensed the tension between Vic and you and decided to talk to her about it. When the blonde found her alone in the locker room, she carefully put her concern into words: "Is everything okay, Vic?"

Vic hesitated for a moment before answering, her gaze avoiding Maya's eyes. "Yes, everything is fine," she murmured quietly and with gentle determination, Maya placed a hand on Vic's shoulder, forcing her to look at her. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Her voice was calm and supportive. "If something is bothering you, let me know. We are here to support each other."

Vic sighed heavily and lowered her gaze to the floor. "It's just... I don't know how to deal with it," she finally confessed. "With these feelings that I have for someone."

The blonde raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "For someone? Who do you mean?" Maya tried to encourage Vic to talk. She hesitated again before answering, her voice barely audible. “For y/n,” she finally murmured and Maya's eyes widened in surprise as she realized what her friend had meant. "Oh," she said quietly, trying to hide her surprise. "And how do you feel about that?"

Vic shrugged, unable to organize her thoughts. "Confused, I guess," she finally replied. "I've never felt this way before and it's driving me crazy."

Maya placed her hand reassuringly on Vic's shoulder again and smiled reassuringly. "It's okay to be confused," she said softly. "Give yourself time to figure out what you're really feeling. And remember, we're all here for you, no matter what."

She nodded slowly, grateful for the blondes support. She knew she still had a long way to go to deal with her feelings for you, but she knew she could do it. She resolved to no longer ignore her feelings, but to bravely face them before she confessed them to you.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Weeks passed as Vic continued to remain silent and distance herself from you. Station 19 was in turmoil when the team was called to an urgent emergency call. The report of a man who got into a dangerous fire situation while under the influence of alcohol had everyone ready to go into the danger zone to save lives.

Victoria Hughes felt the tension in the air as she prepared for the mission ahead. The thoughts of you being in danger made her heart beat faster and she fought against the rising fear. Yet at the same time she was determined to protect you at all costs.

The mission turned out to be dangerous and full of unexpected challenges. As you and Vic bravely tried to save the alcoholic man from the flames and fight the fire, the situation spiraled out of control. The man became aggressive towards you and attacked you when you tried to calm him down. In the scuffle that followed, you were thrown against a pillar, which gave way above you and buried you beneath it.

A moment of pure panic gripped Vic as she saw you buried beneath the rubble. She fought desperately against the aggressive attacker to protect herself and at the same time rush to your aid. But despite her tireless efforts, the situation seemed hopeless and Vic felt overwhelmed and helpless.

When the team finally subdued the man and you were carried injured out of the burning building and to safety, a wave of relief ran through her, followed by an intense feeling of despair. She could no longer deny how much you meant to her, time was too short, and in that moment she knew it was time to face her true feelings.

After the mission was successfully completed and they were all safely back in the station, Vic came to see you. She found you in the infirmary, surrounded by Carina and Warren, stabilized, albeit with a few bruises and scratches on your face. Her hands shook with excitement as she approached you, but she forced herself to remain outwardly calm.

“Y/n, there’s something I need to tell you,” Vic started nervously as her eyes met yours and waited for the two doctors to left your area. Her voice was gentle, but her words carried a weight of emotion. "I... I have feelings for you, y/n. Strong feelings that I can't deny anymore."

A hint of surprise crossed your face, followed by a warm smile. “Vic, I’ve felt this for a while,” you confessed quietly. "And I have feelings for you too. I just wanted you to start so I wouldn't look like an idiot if I misinterpreted something."

An indescribable feeling of joy filled Vic's heart when she heard your words that she had suppressed for so long. She hugged you tightly, and in that intimate moment she knew she had finally found the courage to face her deepest feelings. As you held each other in your arms, you both felt the certainty that this was the beginning of something special - a love strong enough to overcome the greatest challenges and connect the hearts of two people forever.

[zombislut]

Twins Tantrums and Tender Moments

So, I used @gemini-sensei & @sensei-venus, concept of the moskowitz twins and made, this

Hawk Moskowitz stood in the living room, watching in disbelief as his three-year-old twins, Maverick and Maya, turned the room into a whirlwind of chaos. Toys were strewn everywhere, and the two toddlers were in full meltdown mode. Maverick was wailing at the top of his lungs, clutching his favorite toy truck that had lost a wheel, while Maya was on the floor, kicking and screaming because her tower of blocks had toppled over.

"Hey, hey, what's going on in here?" Hawk's voice was firm but gentle, the tone he had perfected over the past few years.

You entered the room, eight months pregnant with your second child, and sighed deeply. "They've been at it for an hour now. I tried everything—snacks, stories, songs—but nothing's working."

Hawk nodded and walked over to Maverick, kneeling down to his level. "Hey, buddy, what's the matter?"

Maverick sniffled and held up his broken truck. "My truck is broken, Daddy!"

Hawk took the truck and examined it, his heart aching at the sight of Maverick's tear-streaked face. "You know what, Maverick? I bet we can fix this together. How about we try that?"

Maverick nodded, hiccuping between sobs. Hawk gave him a reassuring smile and set the truck aside for a moment. He then turned to Maya, who was still crying on the floor.

"Princess, what's wrong with your blocks?" he asked softly.

"My tower fell down, Daddy! It was so tall, and now it's gone!" Maya wailed, her little fists pounding the carpet.

Hawk gathered Maya in his arms, holding her close. "It's okay, Maya. We can build an even taller tower together. How about that?"

Maya's cries began to subside as she buried her face in Hawk's shoulder. You watched the scene with a mixture of exhaustion and admiration, grateful for Hawk's patience and tenderness.

After a few minutes, Maverick and Maya were calmer, sitting on the floor with Hawk as he helped Maverick fix his truck and Maya rebuild her tower. The room, once filled with chaos, was now filled with quiet concentration and the occasional giggle.

Once the truck was fixed and the tower was rebuilt, Hawk pulled both twins into a big hug. "See? We did it together. You two are amazing."

You walked over and joined the family hug, resting your head on Hawk's shoulder. "Thank you, Hawk. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He kissed the top of your head. "We're in this together, always."

As the evening wore on, the twins eventually drifted off to sleep, worn out from their tantrums and the excitement of fixing their toys. You and Hawk tucked them into bed, their tiny faces peaceful and content.

Back in the living room, you collapsed onto the couch with a sigh of relief. Hawk sat beside you, his arm around your shoulders. "We survived another day," he said with a chuckle.

You laughed softly and leaned into him. "Yeah, we did. And with another one on the way, it's only going to get crazier."

Hawk placed a hand on your swollen belly, his eyes filled with love and anticipation. "Bring it on. I can't wait to meet our new little one and see what adventures they bring."

You smiled, feeling the baby kick in response to Hawk's touch. "Me neither."

As you both sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you. Hawk leaned back, and you rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Slowly, your eyes grew heavy, and before long, you both drifted off to sleep, finding peace and comfort in each other's embrace.