#peep the tears :3

[diactrl]

"You think that this is the work of God?"

[scritzar]

Who Would Leave Their Son Out In The Sun?

[turontot]

the fallen angel.

(PLEASE DM ME FIRST FOR PERMISSION IF YOU PLAN ON REPOSTING!)

[sysig]

He deserves a bit of everything, as a treat (Patreon)

[convxction]

ooc. congratulation to v.aike's supporters. he is finally in fe.h. and he is serving in that look.

[mhaccunoval]

@jaybirdsdelight tagged me in the spelling urls with songs game!!!

(M)ustapha — Queen

(H)old Me Like a Grudge — Fall Out Boy

(A)ll Mixed Up — 311

(C)ome in Closer — Blue October

(C)leopatra — The Lumineers

(U)nderground – Adam Lambert

(N)ever Do Anything — Barenaked Ladies

(O)restes — A Perfect Circle

(V)icarious — Tool

(A)llison Road — Gin Blossoms

(L)ook at Your Hands — George Michael

💞 being evil and tagging people for once: @alonetogether @butchybats @breadboylovin  @corvusossifragus 💞

[insomnidoodle]

I’ve logged more hours in this game than I worked last week

[caffeineandhyperfixations]

to celebrate totk i redrew something from 2017 that was a result of a conversation in a gc with friends about making five-star culinary delights while the world is literally moments from ending

[welldrawnfish]

Do you know what its like to be trans?

[Comic description: A comic about being trans. Long descriptions follow.

1. A light-skinned trans woman with shoulder-length brown hair stands at her bathroom sink wearing a T-shirt with a fish on it, draped so that her left shoulder hangs out. The text reads, ‘Let me teach you, what its like to be trans.’ 2. A blister pack of unlabelled pills sits next to this are two prescription bottles, one of Estrodial and one of Spironolactone, the latter of which is on its side with pills spilling out. The text reads, ‘What it’s like to spend years of waiting / For the right people to tick the box to tick the box to say your sick enough to get treatment. / Treatment to be you.’ 3. The woman brushes her teeth while looking at a tablet propped up by the sink. The text reads, ‘Do you know what its like to be a prop for political power? / To know they Dont actually care?’ The word ‘actually’ is underlined. 4. The woman sticks her tongue out in concentration as she works on the clasps of a bra behind her back. The text reads, ‘Do you know what it’s like? Do wait years for your body to change?’ 5. The woman starts shaving her cheeks and chin, which are covered in cream. The text reads, ‘What its like to work (emphasis) so (end emphasis) hard to overcome every toxic gender norm?’ 6. The woman touches her own shoulders with an unhappy expression. The text reads, ‘To take stock at the damage puberty has done?’ 7. A bottle of nail polish lies on its side dripping onto the counter. Polish has been splashed against the wall. The woman’s hands are visible in the sink, with just her right thumbnail painted. The text reads, ‘Do you know what its like? / To paint your nails only to see how disgusting your hands make you feel?’ 8. The woman bends over the sink, with her eyes shut and tears streaming down her face. The text says, ‘What its like, To do your makeup wrong / and see every feature you hate (emphasis) highlighted (end emphasis)?’

9. Fully dressed with a bag on her shoulder, the woman stands in her doorway with the door open and light streaming in. The text reads, ‘Do you Know what Its like to go outside? / When all it takes is one person to think that you are large enough danger to childrens lives to end yours.’ 10. The door is closed. A single point of light streams in from the peep hole and hits the woman’s head. She has one hand on the door and is looking down at the doorknob with a sad expression. Her bag lies on the ground beside her. The text says, ‘It paralyzes you.’

11. Back to the scene in the bathroom, similar to the first panel but mirrored and with a large black X scratched over the woman’s face. The text reads, ‘Do you Know what its like? / To not be seen as a person? / Because that’s what you taught me.’ \End descriptions]

[mercwithadilf]

Home

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

Summary: Sirius runs away from ‘home’ having finally suffered enough of his parents’ ideals and behaviours. The only place he can really call home is with his best friend, James Potter. Wherever James is, you are too.

This is my first fic after a really long time but I'm really excited to get back on my writing journey! Writing for Sirius Black is mainly because of my absolute love for Ben Barnes so I hope you enjoy!! <3

‘Mum! Godric- James if I catch you looking through my stuff again, it’s your head!’ You chase after James who somehow manages to not only sneak into your room, but also find and run away with the hoodie you forgot to give Sirius back after a night of Quidditch practice.

James pauses in front of you causing you to almost run straight into him and holds up the hoodie with a wide, shit-eating grin. 

‘And why, dear sister, do you have my best mate’s hoodie in your closet?’

You roll your eyes at his annoying, but also very usual antics. ‘Because, dear brother, your best mate gave it to me after I was freezing to death during the Quidditch practice you so thoughtfully stretched out until the dead of night. I simply forgot to give it back before Christmas break! Now give it back!’ 

You jump up to grab the hoodie back from James which he oh so kindly pulled out of your reach. Euphemia took the hoodie away from James’s hands and gave it to you. 

‘Let your sister fawn over the hoodie Sirius gave her in peace, James.’ James smirks at you as your mother chuckles at both of you. 

You stare at her in disbelief and scoff. ‘Seriously, mum! James is being a twat –’

‘Language!’ You hear Fleamont yell from downstairs.

‘– and I get humiliated! Unbelievable! Why don’t you tell mum about Lily, Jamesy?’ You flash your brother the same grin he shot you a mere few seconds ago.

You watch his eyes go wide as your mother pauses her movements and turns to him, ‘Are you still chasing that girl, James? I told you, girls don’t like stalkers.’

James playfully glares at you and turns to you mother, ‘She actually gave me a chance, mother dearest. And I said yes!’ He grins.

You look at him with the most unimpressed look you could fathom and both your mother and James catch up on it, which causes your mother to mirror that look. ‘Okay fine, she said yes, happy?’

‘Very actually.’ He sticks his tongue out at you and you reciprocate the gesture.

Your father’s footsteps emerge up the steps as he walks past you both, ruffling your heads. ‘Everyone to bed or else Santa won’t bring any presents down the chimney for tomorrow morning!’

‘He’s talking to you, Jamesy!’ You sing-song.

‘You wish, sister!’

Everyone heads to their rooms with a final goodnight, you settling in your bed with the comfort of the sounds of the rain and Sirius’s hoodie warming you and lulling you into sleep.

James jolts up from his sleep at the violent bangs of knocks coming from downstairs. In a rushed daze, he scrambles to put his glasses on and grabs his wand. He clutches it tightly, knuckles turning white as he sneaks downstairs, ready to attack whoever decided to disturb the peace at four in the morning. 

He looks through the peep-hole, adjusting his sight to the figure standing outside. As his vision adjusts, he begins to panic.

‘What the fuck?’ James opens the door. ‘Pads?’

Sirius spins to look at him, eyes wide, lips quivering from the cold as he engulfs his figure in his robe. A bag is slung against his shoulder, the boy looking too weak to even carry it properly.

James could tell the streaks on his best friend’s face were from tears that were being washed away by the constant, harsh droplets of rain.

They were both too stunned to even speak.

‘Prongs –’

‘Get in. Now.’ 

James grabs Sirius by his shoulders and leads him inside, taking his bag from him as if it was weighing him down a ton and a half. He helps Sirius take the robe off and replaces it with a warm, fuzzy Christmas blanket as he leads him to the couch.

You huff while sitting up, expecting James to have gone downstairs to get a very early head start on the presents. You walk out of your room and storm downstairs ready to tell him off until you’re stopped in your tracks by the site in front of you.

‘Sirius?’ Your voice wavers.

Both boys situated on the couch turn to look at you. ‘Y/n.’ You wouldn’t have been able to hear Sirius’s voice if it wasn’t for the complete dead silence in the house.

You rush down the rest of the stairs and sit on the floor right in front of Sirius, your hand on his knee to reassure him of your presence.

You glance at your brother for an explanation, but he only shakes his head at you with a frown. You take that as a hint that Sirius hasn’t said anything and to not rush him.

Sirius’s eyes trail over your figure as you sit in front of him. He notices the hoodie you’re wearing was the one he kept looking for, however finding it on you softened the edges of his heart.

James notices Sirius’s eyes on you and smiles softly, despite the situation they’re in right now. ‘I’ll get you a cup of hot choco, yeah?’ James offers Sirius which he responds to with a grateful nod and an attempt of a smile. James gets up and walks to the kitchen while you stay with Sirius.

You look up at him with a reassuring, gentle smile. ‘You can talk when you’re ready, Sirius. No rush, yeah?’ He nods.

James comes back with a cup of warm hot chocolate and places it on the table for Sirius, taking his spot back next to him on the couch.

‘I left them.’ Sirius breaks the silence, his eyes stuck on his hands fidgeting with each other on his lap. ‘It was about time I left my parents but… I can’t believe I just left Reggie there. He’s gonna hate me, he- Godric I-’ He breaks, his hands now rubbing his face as if wiping off all his emotions.

‘You don’t have to explain, Padfoot–’ James speaks up, but Sirius quickly shakes his head.

‘No. No you need to know why, I just- It’s so hard-’ 

You squeeze his knee. ‘You can explain tomorrow, Sirius. You need to rest now, alright? You know you’re always welcome here.’

You can see the look in his eyes. Fear, pain, hurt, regret, but also relief and a tinge of happiness. He can only nod as he looks at his two best friends.

James stands up, a cue for you and Sirius to follow him. ‘You can stay in our spare room, we’ve had it ready in case anyone wanted to stay for the holidays.’

‘Thanks, Prongs.’ Sirius manages a smile as you both lead him to the room which you assume will be his for a good while from now.

‘I’ll tell mum and dad in the morning, you should rest now.’ Sirius nods and thanks him again while he’s settling in. James gives him a pat on the back before he kisses your forehead and heads to his room for a well-needed rest.

You, on the other hand, linger on the doorway of Sirius’s room. He looks at you with a hint of desperation in his eyes which you take as a hint to walk in, shutting the door behind you and sitting on the edge of his bed.

‘Are you alright?’ He sits down next to you with a sigh. ‘I know it’s a stupid question but… I don’t know…’

He chuckles lightly, the tension in the air softened, giving way for a more light-hearted and calm tone.

‘I could be better, but I’m glad I have you.’ He pauses as he looks at you, a stare that made your heart flutter. ‘A-and James, of course.’

You look at him with a hint of a smile, your shoulders rubbing against each other. ‘You’ll always have me, Pads… Us.’ 

You suddenly stand up. ‘Hold on.’ You walk downstairs, grab a glass of water and painkillers and go back into Sirius’s room and place them on his bedside tables while he watches you with curiosity. 

‘What’s this for?’

‘You were absolutely drenched. Just in case you might fall ill, something for you to take in the morning.’ 

His heart skips a beat as he watches you show him the sort of care that not even his family has shown him in his whole lifetime. 

He grabs your wrist desperately but gently, his eyes looking up at you like a puppy anticipating its praise for a trick.

‘Pads? You okay?’

He gets up, hovering over you with a vulnerability that makes his tall frame appear small and fragile.

Wordlessly, he slumps his forehead on your shoulder and lets his shoulders sag. The weight of the night finally leaves him as he collapses onto you, letting himself break down into your shoulder. His heaving sobs echo around you.

‘Siri…’ You whisper into his ear. You’re not used to seeing such an emotional side of him. He’s usually so bright and loud, a proud, smug grin on his face as he prances through the halls of Hogwarts. Now, in the dim and little room, you hold the same boy that’s held your heart in his palm for years. The boy that’s now showing a side of him that he doesn’t even show to himself.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, pulling him impossibly closer to you as you comb your fingers through his long, still slightly damp hair.

Sirius shudders at the feeling.

‘Everything’ll fall into place. I promise, Sirius.’ You continue to whisper reassurances into his ear. You can’t tell if those reassurances are just for him or for the both of you, but now you just know that he needs them more.

He pulls away to look at you while you remain in each other’s hold, his eyes roaming yours as if to find a hidden message in them. Anything, anything to prove to himself that he’s where he’s ever needed to be, where he’ll ever need to be.

Your finger as it glided up his skin to wipe the tears off his face, the site of you in his hoodie, the domesticity of it all, the dense, moody atmosphere; all of it. It all clouded his brain, his mind, any sense of logic that he held onto. It was all fogged into a silhouette he couldn’t make sense of anymore as he crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was messy, unrestrained, as if pouring every ounce of your soul into that fleeting moment of closeness. Your lips moved together in a trembling dance, every touch drenched in vulnerability and an aching need to hold on. It was as though the world had shrunk to just the space between you.

You both pull away reluctantly in the search for air, panting exasperatedly as your eyes never break the foggy stares you give each other. In that moment, Sirius knew he wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time, the weight of his past felt lighter—not gone, but shared. And as your laughter filled the small room, he realized this was what home felt like.

‘Took you only four years, Pads.’

You both chuckle, his forehead leaning on yours while his hands trace the skin of your neck and waist.

‘That all you’ve got to say, darling?’

You smile up at him. ‘Trust me, there’s so much I’ve got to say.’

He pecks your lips. He couldn’t get enough of you and he’s only just started.

‘Good thing I’m stuck here with you then, huh?'

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 14

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: as always please consider leaving me a comment/reblog ok. OH AND I NEARLY FORGOT. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL OF THE LOVELY READERS SHO SENT ME INFORMATION ABOUT CPR/MEDIEVAL HEALTHCARE. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH YOU DONT EVEN KNOW. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones @ashton-trashton

You clutch you chest as you walk into your bedroom. You lean back onto the wooden door after closing it and slowly sink to the ground. You gasp for air as a myriad of emotions cut through you.

You stare off into space, reeling from the entire interaction. You start when you hear a knock on the door. You hear the voices of your servants. You turn to the knob, reach up for it, and slowly open it from where you sat.

"Princess?" worried voices call.

Your voice is small, "I'm here."

A servant peeps her head through the small opening and gasps when she sees you. She slinks her way in, and soon does the other one. They both help you up and fuss over you. You tell them you only need help getting dressed, nothing more.

Your servants manage to make you look like a princess after dressing you and fixing your hair. They even paint your lips and cheeks with rouge, making it as though you weren't look so ghastly.

You feel ghastly as you make your way to the maester's ward though. Dread grows with each step you take, thus why you move so sluggish. You only snap out of it when you hear someone call for you.

"AUNT!"

You come alive at the sight of Aegon running over. You find his mother smiling behind him, clutching her belly as she followed after the boy. You crouch down and reach for him.

Aegon giggles as he jumps into your arms, "AUNT!"

You kiss his temple and embrace him fondly, "sȳz ñāqes, ñuha valītsos." Good morning, my boy.

You grunt as you stand with the young prince in your arms. Alicent is soon before you, "good morn," she smiles, though it flattens when she sees your eyes, "sister..."

You shake your head, "it's Daemon."

The queen clenches her jaw.

Aegon finds interest in the jewel on your neck. He takes it in his hand and tries to eat it. You turn to him and shush him, moving his hand away.

"What did he do to you?" your sister asks.

"Not to me," you turn to her, "to my wards."

Alicent knits her brows.

"They..." you sigh. The image of Daemon's bloody face haunts you, "they brawled outside my bedroom."

"What?" she pulls her head back.

"His face was bloody..." your voice shakes, "and... he said things to me-"

"Aunt, cake!" Aegon announces, grabbing your cheeks.

Alicent turns to her son, pushing his hands off you, "darling, mummy said you'll get cake later."

Aegon whines, "cake!"

You turn to Aegon, shushing him momentarily before turning back to Alicent, "I slapped him."

Your sister freezes, a line forming between her brows. She takes a moment before replying, "you slapped Daemon?"

You simply stare at her as Aegon throws his head back and whines, "CAKEEEEE!"

You watch as the boy begins to squirm whilst crying out for cake. You try to calm him, but eventually, Alicent takes him from you. She manages to calm the boy by offering to play with him instead. Aegon scratches his teary eyes, turning to you. He points.

You stroke his head, "I'll play with you later."

He whines, "NOOOOO!"

"My love," Alicent whispers against his cheek, "aunt has to go-"

"NOOO!"

"I just have to go get cake for you, Aegon," you shush him, "you want cake, right?"

Aegon pouts as tears stream down his face.

"Why don't you go play with mummy and aunt will get cake for us?"

Alicent kisses Aegon's tears away and he nods. The boy sighs, "no long."

You nod in understanding, "no, sweetheart. I will not take long."

With that, you leave your nephew and sister, continuing your walk to the maester's ward. When you arrive, your stomach drops as the arguing you hear coming from inside.

When you open the door, the room goes silent. You immediately lock eyes with Daemon who was standing next to your maester.

"Oh, thank the gods," the old man says.

You walk in with knit brows, "what is happening?"

"The prince refuses that I tend to his wounds," the maester says, handing you an iron tray that had both a damp and dry cloth, "he insists only on receiving care for you, my princess."

Of course. You stare at the tray, recalling years ago when he did the same after his tourney, the wordlessly take it. You examine the room, quickly finding your wards sitting on cots.

They stand to attention when you turn to them and nod, "princess."

Daemon feels his hand tremble as you walk towards them.

"Are you two well?"

The twins examine your demeanor before nodding slowly, "yes."

"Have you any injuries?"

"No."

"Good," you nod, "you may leave."

Their eyes widen.

You walk towards Daemon grabbing his arm, "sit."

"Princess?" Erryk asks, "do you mean-"

"Both," you spare them a glance, "both of you may retire."

Daemon turns to them, slowly sitting on the cot.

You turn, "I beg your pardon, maester, but would you do me a favor?"

Erryk is silenced. Arryk feels dread in his stomach as he nods, "we shall away then, my princess."

"How might I serve, princess?" the maester asks.

Daemon watches the twins walk out, awfully pleased with himself, until he feels his head begin to throb.

"Would you please go to the kitchen and request cake be delivered to Aegon?"

The maester is taken aback by the request but otherwise nods, "of course."

"Thank you," you nod, watching him leave.

Daemon does the same.

The moment it's just you and him, he turns to you, finding your eyes are already on him. He clenches his jaw, regretting it when it makes the pain in his nose flare.

Your sigh, walking towards him. You start when he touches your hip.

His lips part as consequences, "I-"

"Don't speak," you take the damp towel and hand him the tray, "I do not wish to speak to you as I tend to your wounds."

Daemon withdraws the hand he had on your hip in lieu of taking the tray. The metal thing felt blistering and heavy. He lowers his head.

"Don't move," you snap, grabbing his chin. When he lifts his head, you quickly retreat your hand, realizing you were about to force his gaze up which would have hurt him. You didn't want to hurt him, regardless of how he made you feel.

Daemon does not think this is why you pull away; he thinks the look of him disgusted you, especially in this state. His grip on the tray tightens.

You could tell his nose was broken from how his eyes were swollen. Many an occasion has this happened to Gwayne. You sigh and shake your head, "you should have let the maester see to your nose at least."

It was strange that now that you were before him, he could barely feel the pain on his face, not because it was gone but because felt it every where, most especially in his chest.

"It's broken," you mutter, placing a hand on his cheek.

Daemon leans back to allow you more access to his face. He so badly wanted to lean into your touch, but he was afraid you'd pull away again. Instead, he closes his eyes, "is it crooked?"

You examine his nose, "no," you trace his bridge with your thumb.

His breath hitches and his skin pricks with goosebumps.

"But a vein must have ruptured from the hit," you say as you wipe the blood off him.

Daemon involuntarily winces.

You immediately pull back, "I-"

He opens his eyes and snatches your hand.

You stare at each other for a long moment.

He brings your hand to his cheek, "think nothing of it," his eyes are watery. His thumb rubs your skin, "do not pull away."

When he releases you, you finish off wiping the red off his skin until all that was left on his face were purple bruises and split skin. You comb his hair back with your fingers and it makes his brows furrow. You sigh, take the tray from him, and set it aside, "I did not mean for that to hurt."

"It didn't," he mutters, watching you go through the objects on the maester's table. You take the ointment and turn back to him. He adds, "I liked it."

You grit your teeth and swipe a dollop of salve on your finger.

Daemon notices your reaction, "are you angry with m-"

"I told you not to speak," you snap for the second time.

His lips part, but only a sigh comes out.

You inhale sharply.

He can feel your hand tremble as you rub the ointment on his wounds. It hurts, not because of the pressure you apply on his skin, but because he knows your anger is the cause of your tremors.

You look him once over after tending to his cuts then examine his body, "anywhere else you're injured, prince?"

"Daor," he mutters, shaking his head, "sepār ñuha prūmia." No, just my heart.

You chuckle dryly at his words, quickly turning away from him to shake your head in disbelief.

Daemon swallows a lump that forms in his throat, "kostilus." Please.

You turn to him, scratching your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of him. "Skoros yno?" What of mine?

His eyes follow you as you sit down next to him. He shifts in his spot to face you.

You grip the cot, "gaomagon ao pendagon ñuha prūmia ēza daor ōdrio." You take a deep breath before turning to him. Do you think my heart has no wound?

He sees the tears build in your eyes. He reaches out to wipe it, but you recoil and do it off yourself. He curls his hand into a fist and rests it on his lap. He whispers your name and licks his lips, "it was not my intention."

"Then what was your intention then?" you quip, eyes refusing to leave his though it blurred with tears, "if not to sear holes into my heart?"

What was his intention? What was his intention? Why was it that he found your letters so gut-curling and unseemly? Why was the thought of reading your words while he was seas apart so sickening? He opens his mouth, "I do not know."

You are stunned by his response. It makes you stiffen in your spot. Your stomach sours and your breath hitches, "... you do not even know why you resent me so?"

"I do not resent you," he raises his voice slightly, "but I did bare resentment." He shakes his head, "perhaps for my brother, for your brother, for your father."

You scratch your eyes again. You sigh and nod, "I see."

Daemon's hands flinch.

"So," you knit your brows, "you cast your resentment onto me because..."

His throat tightens though his jaw slacks, "why do you insist upon this?"

"What do you mean?!" you raise.

"You insist to misunderstand me."

"I insist the opposite, you fool!" you snap, coming to a stand, "every day I wrote to you, even after I knew for certain you would not!"

The balm on Daemon's face is washed with the salt from his eyes, "I've read them."

You tense but then you shake your head, "liar."

The word makes him whimper, "last night. I read them all. I read about how you ate cake, and went to the sea, and wrote to Laenor, and-"

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" you blurt, feeling your breath grow short, "those letters were not meant to be read that way."

"But, I know your heart now," he slowly stands.

You laugh, "know my heart!"

"Or the parts you opened up to me," he reaches a hand. He sniffles; it feels like a blade up the nostrils. "If it pleases you, I would write a thousand letters in return."

You scoff, taking a step back, "you would survive three years of silence from me?"

The thought shatters him.

You watch as red drips from his nose to his lips. You do nothing but wait for his response.

He shakes his head, "I would not."

You shake your head and grab the dry towel for him. He takes it and feels his stomach drop when you begin to pace around. The closer you get to the door, the more uneasy he feels. He cannot help himself, "kostilus gaomagon daor henujagon nyke." Please do not leave me.

The thought makes you laugh, so you do. You turn to him, nearly moved to spit at his face. He so brazenly requests such a thing from you when he paid you no heed when you requested the same from him. You do not act beneath yourself though, "iksan daor tetan lēda ao." I am not finished with you.

He does not like the tone with which you speak this, and yet he says, "iksan biare." I am glad.

"Why did you ambush my wards?"

Daemon tenses.

"How did you come into my chambers if they were keeping watch outside?"

He wipes the blood off his lips, "there are secret passages to nearly every room in the castle."

You shrug and cross your arms, "did you attack them because it would be too easy to attack me?"

He pulls his head back, "do not vilify me," he shake his head, "do not presume I would ever atta-"

"YOU ARE MY VILLAIN!" your splintered resolve finally breaks. You unleash your rage by the hurtling your heel at him. Your right shoe misses Daemon by a hair, but your left shoe hits him in the shoulder when he turns to dodge your assault.

You charge at him with a guttural screech, fully intent on battering his body, but he does not let you. He grabs your wrists and easily overpowers you, calling your name out.

Daemon traps you in his arms and in return, you begin kicking him. He yelps when you kick his shin, but does not release you. He shudders as he tightens his arms around you, "kostilus, kostilus keligon. Gīda ilagon, ik—" please, please stop. Calm down, I—

"LET ME GO!" you shriek, exerting all of your strength into elbowing him.

You can't though, his hold on you was too strong. And though he hated that this was how he got to hold you, he could not help the way his face leaned into your nape to breathe in your scent. He weeps against you, begging you to calm down.

And you do, not because you want to, but because you could no longer breathe.

Daemon feels it, the exact moment you tense just to go limp. His hold on you loosens in an instant. It was a mistake because of how you flop forward. His heart leaps into his mouth as he feels your body spasm and gasp for air.

He lays you down on the cot and his eyes go wide at the sight of the veins popping out of your neck. He immediately rubs your chest and frantically calls out your name.

You looked like you were choking. A drowned man in the Stepstones immediately comes to mind.

He takes your jaw and breathes air into your mouth. A string of snot mixed with blood is drawn out between you as he pulls away to examine your face.

He had only seen it once. One of the men from the fleet was found washed up shore. When he was dragged out, they fully intended to bury him, until an Iron Born came forward.

Daemon presses his hands atop your ribs and begins to pump your chest. He does this a few times before pinching your nostrils and breathing into your mouth again. He remembered what the Iron Born called it: the kiss of life. He brings to mind the explanation the Iron Born gave when he had asked how he did it.

And as he did it on you, he could only pray that he remembered it right.

The prince could barely see from how his tears blurred his vision. It looked like you were going grey and whatever he was doing wasn't working. His voice shakes as he blurts, "kostilus, gaomagon daor henujagon nyke!" please, do not leave me.

You eyelids begin to close.

"KOSTILUS," he pumps your chest again, "vestā īlē daor tetan lēda nyke!" He shudders as he wills you to come back to consciousness. PLEASE, you said you were not finished with me!

You feel your lungs deflate. You can't seem to feel anything else.

Daemon grabs your cheeks and breathes into your mouth again, and again, and again. He presses his head to your chest and listens closely to your heart beat. Tears rush down to your skin as he screws his eyes shut. He can't hear anything. He can't hear anything.

He scoops you into you his chest and sobs into you. He mutters your name repeatedly. He cannot seem to do anything else but weep.

He takes your hand, cold and clammy, and squeezes it as he brings it to his mouth to kiss it, "please, please, please, don't leave me."

He sniffles and straightens up. Help. He should call for help. "MAESTER! MAESTER!" He comes to a stand, but his knees are weak and he crumples down to the floor.

A few moments later, a maester from one of the inner offices emerges. Seeing the distraught prince with a bloody nose, he is taken aback, "my prince-"

"HELP HER!" he howls from the floor. He tries to come to a stand, but even his arm gives in and he slips down to the floor. He resigns to his misery and lays on his back, "HELP MY WIFE!"

The maester runs to you, nearly tripping on the legs of the prince.

As Daemon groans helplessly, the maester that had gone to have cake delivered to young prince Aegon arrives. He runs up to the prince, "my prince, what has-"

"My wife is dead, isn't she?" Daemon mumbles through a sob.

The maester stiffens and turns to the other maester with wide eyes, "what has-"

"Her heartbeat is weak," the other maester blurts, "she succumbed to her affliction, no doubt."

The old man walks over Daemon and comes to your side. The one who had inspected you turns to the prince, "rise, your grace. She is not overcome. Her heart persists even in weakness."

Daemon lifts his head and scrambles to his knees. He calls your name, lips wobbling, cheeks wet with sorrow, a red streak trickled down from his nose.

"However," the same maester says as he gives way to Daemon, "I fear there is nothing else we can do but pray her heart keeps persisting." He offers the prince a towel.

He sniffles, opting to wipe his face on his sleeve. He shakes his head, "she will persist. She is not finished with me."

The maesters look at each other. One says, "we shall give you your privacy, Prince Daemon. I shall have the sept pray for her health and strength."

Daemon kneels beside your cot, squeezing one of your hands, "a blanket, maester. She is cold."

"Of course," he offers him the blanket neatly folded on the other cot.

The two maesters leave after Daemon cloaks you with a blanket. He tucks you in and brushes your brown hair away from your face. He sniffles as he looks upon you. Another bout of sobs arrest him.

He rests his head upon your lap, unwanting to put pressure upon your chest or belly. He embraces you as he despairs. His voice his broken as he says your name. He dries his tears on the blanket before coming to a stand.

He finds the maesters, all huddled up and muttering to each other in the office room.

"My prince," one says, walking over, "what is—"

"Is th-ere truly nothing to be done?" his voice cracks, low and pained.

They look at each other for a moment. One replies, "forgive us, your grace, but no."

Daemon makes a pained noise as he sniffles.

The maesters all look upon the troubled prince with pity.

"Right," he wipes his face on his sleeve, "I will bring her to our chambers then, that I may share in her embrace. Perhaps my heat and desperation with strengthen her body."

They nod as Daemon walks off.

The prince gathers you in his arms. You feel lighter than he remembers. He gazes upon your face, thinking of the day he had carried you home from the temple. He remembers your terrible prayer and gulps, "the gods do not grant such cruel things."

He walks down the halls that presently felt haunted. He can barely feel your breathing on his neck. He prays it is because has been thickened from the burns he suffered in the Stepstones.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Alicent with her son lingering in one of the halls. He and her stare at each other heatedly for a good moment. He continues walking.

Alicent turns to Aegon, "my darling, we should go inside."

"No!" Aegon whines, "AUNT!"

Daemon's chest tightens.

Alicent distracts him as Daemon comes closer, "later, my love we will-"

The distraction does not work. Aegon spots you and recognizes you too easily, "AUNT!"

Alicent tries to hold him back, but she can only do so much in her pregnant state.

Daemon stops in his tracks once more as the young boy runs up to him. Aegon, with his tiny hands and big violet eyes, reaches out for you.

Alicent runs over, "Aegon, no!" She pulls him away.

Aegon whines but stops when Daemon says, "issa ēdrure, valītsos." She is sleeping, boy.

Alicent clenches her teeth. Aegon furrows his brows, "ēdrure?" Sleep?

"Kessa," Daemon mutters, "issa olvie ēdrugī." Yes. She is very tired.

Aegon pouts, "cake!"

"Tolī. Ziry teptan ao iā kivio, gōntan ziry daor?" Later. She gave you a promise, did she not?

Aegon blinks at him and points, "sad."

Daemon tenses.

"Mundagon sodjisto ēdrugon." Sad aunt sleeps.

Daemon adjusts you in his arms as he looks off. He hastens in his way back to your shared chambers.

Alicent watches the man walk away with her sister in his arms. A shiver runs down her spine as she begins to think the worst.

Daemon changes you out of your dress and undoes your hair. He tucks you in bed before changing himself. He lights a single candle by the bedside table before lying beside you.

He nuzzles into your neck and throws his leg over yours. He rubs your bare sternum, glad to be able to feel the thumping of your heart.

His stream of tears do not seem to cease. He can now feel every fibre of pain on his face and body. He aches and aches; He aches mostly for you.

He thinks back to your last conversation. He recalls the explanation he owes you, "I did it because you spoke their names in your sleep."

You sigh heavily.

Daemon lifts his head up, hoping you would wake. You do not.

He sighs, wiping his face on his dress shirt and clarifies, "Arryk and Erryk."

He looks upon your form. Your face shines under candlelight. He longs to see it under the light of the sun and moon.

"I cannot bare to know you dream of them," he mutters, propping himself up on one arm, "you moaned their name."

Your arms are already warm but Daemon rubs them still.

"Gods know how I surely moaned your name in my sleep," he sighs, "... as I fucked other women."

You remain unmoving.

"Did they sate you, I wonder?" his throat tightens. He feels a hot tear run down his nose, "... did you moan my name when they fucked you?"

Jealously, anger, and hurt force more tears out of him. He rests his head on your chest, awfully defeated. He clutches the fabric of your nightgown as he laments with his eyes screwed shut.

"Do you dream of me?"

Warmth spreads across his cheek. He feels his snot begin to drip. He moves to wipe his nose, but feels something in the way.

You fool.

His eyes open. His lips part when he realizes your hand is on his cheek. He lifts his head, placing his hand atop yours.

"D—mon."

His breath trembles. He squeezes your hand, "I'm here." He kisses your palm.

Your eyes slowly open.

Daemon's heart skips. He laughs but quickly breaks into a sob.

You can barely see his face in the darkness, but you can feel the way his head shook as he wept. You brush your tears with your thumb and repeat the words Daemon thought he imagined you say, "you fool."

He shudders as he watches you knit your brows.

"I dream only one dream," you whisper. You grunt as you feel your head pound, "and it is neither of my wards or you."

He shifts slightly to better see you, careful to keep your hand on his face. He asks, soft and careful, "what do you dream of?"

He tenses when you pull away. He is about to beg for forgiveness for even asking, but then he realizes you merely wished to sit up. He helps you lean back on the headboard and sits beside you, hands fidgeting with the blanket, for he did not know if you wanted to hold his hand.

You don't. Your hands go to his beaten face. You sigh, "our children."

Daemon's expression slips.

"Alaeric and Alyrie," you add, gently rubbing his cheeks, "it was not Arryk nor Erryk's name I muttered, but theirs."

His hands come atop yours again. His eyes are red with tears.

"They-" your lips tremble, "-they were a moon too early."

The sound of your name spilling from his lips is horrible.

You lower your gaze and slowly pull away from him. You clutch your chest when you feel it begin to tighten. You take your time to draw in deep breaths to calm yourself.

Daemon brushes your hair back and rubs your arms.

You whine when he touches you. You pull away, "please, don't."

It is worse than a kick to the teeth how you move back. He is frantic when you look as though you wanted to leave bed. He calls out your name and immediately begins to apologize, "please. Forgive me. I will not tou-"

"I need to go for a walk," you mutter as you come to a stand.

Daemon immediately springs into action, taking your arm, helping you keep yourself upright. You grip his bicep and point to the chair, "my robe."

He immediately takes your robe and helps you put it on. He proceeds to help you slip your shoes on and you whine at the tightening of your chest. Daemon is frantic, "what is it? What is happening? What do you need?"

You shake your head and sigh, "a walk... just a walk."

Neither of you speak as you walk outside of your room. You saunter down the now dark halls holding Daemon's bicep. His gaze barely leaves you. He is focused only on your conditions.

You feel exhausted, and you turn to the prince, figuring he probably felt the same way, "it's not much farther."

He shakes his head, "where you go, I will follow."

You see the worry on his face. You do not have it in you to try and comfort him. You turn away and rub your chest.

Soon, you arrive to your destination. The gardens are lit up by the light of the stars and the moon. You move past the thick rose bushes and find the fountain that rest behind them.

Daemon is surprised by its existence.

You take notice, "my father had it commissioned for me."

He gasps when you release him and chases after your hand.

You watch as he squeezes you and shake your head, "I will just walk around the fountain, Daemon."

He turns to the said fountain, watching leaves and blossoms flow with the trickling water. He nods, "then so shall I."

Daemon secures your hand on his bicep. You do not argue, "very well."

The two of you walk around the large, rounded stone. Daemon is one again focused only on you. On the other hand, you are solely focused on loosening the tightness in your lungs.

"Will you tell me more about them?"

Them? You didn't not want to talk about them, lest you faint. You reach for a rose bud that fell into the water and fish it out. You take a moment to decide on your answer and end up shaking your head, "another time."

Daemon is disheartened by your response for he did not know if you did not want to speak of your children because of how greatly it hurt or because you simply did not want to speak to him. Still, he nods, "of course."

It does not take long for you to completely circle around the fountain. You look at the flower in your hand, "you do not have to trace all my steps."

"I do."

You turn to him.

His breath hitches.

"Why?"

He momentarily looks at the flower in your hand, "I do not want you to go where I cannot follow."

You stop in your tracks; so does he.

He stares at you, hoping you had something to say.

You don't. You continue walking.

[ptergwen]

hi ! i had a dream like this so idk if its too specific or anything hut could u write a fluff/angst about reader being in a beach holiday with family/peter, theyre at the beach swimming and being all cute underwater and stuff- peter tries to hold/grab reader and accidentally hurts them bc of his super strength. theyre mad at him for a bit but they make up that night with heaps of fluff, cuddles, words of affirmation-ect. sorry if thats dumb fhdgdgf thank youuu <33

a boy who's jacked and kind

w/c: 1,109

warnings: a very sorry and sad peter, like two swears

a/n: peep the sabrina reference hehe i had a lot of fun with this one! decided to make it a beach day with friends, i hope that's okay & you enjoy <3

"marco!"

"polo!"

you and your friends scatter around the ocean while peter tries to catch you. you're at the beach for the day, which is exciting because you don't get to go often living in the city. peter pushes through the water with his eyes closed, hands outstretched in front of him. if he catches one of you, he wins.

"marco!"

peter is getting closer to you and ned. mj is the farthest away, deeper into the ocean. she silently signals for the two of you to swim towards her.

"polo!"

you all shout in unison. ned wades through the water frantically, mj continuing to swim in the opposite direction. you're not as quick to pick up on her guidance. you won't be able to make it to the two of them without peter catching you, so you keep swimming the other way.

"marco!"

"polo!"

ned and mj sound kind of far, but you seem to be close. peter follows your voice with a smirk, eyes still squeezed shut.

"marco!"

you can hear peter getting close from behind you.

"polo!"

you look behind your shoulder to see peter nearing you.

"go, y/n!" mj shouts. "run!" ned echoes.

"marco!"

you can't help but let out a giggle as peter gets closer and closer. you leave the water and start running on the wet sand, your boyfriend right on your trail.

"polo!"

peter tackles you from behind, pushing you down and landing beside you. you squeal and land in the sand, hard. it knocks the wind out of you. peter laughs softly and rolls on top of you.

"i win."

your lip quivers a bit, tears pricking your eyes reflexively from the pain of the fall. peter's cocky demeanor instantly changes, going into concerned boyfriend mode.

"baby, what's wrong?"

he catches a stray tear with his thumb, his lips forming a frown.

"why're you crying?"

peter's thumb caresses your cheek. you shoo his hand away.

"i’m not, that just fuckin' hurt. can you get off me?"

peter rolls off of you, watching you get to your feet with furrowed brows.

"oh no, baby, i'm sorry. i just got caught up in the game... i didn't realize how hard i pushed you."

"you have super strength, peter."

you brush the sand off yourself, sniffing back a mixture of salt water and snot. peter's voice quiets.

"sometimes i forget."

"yeah, i know. it's fine."

"but i feel bad." peter stands up. "are you okay?"

he reaches for your hand. you shrug and pull it away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'm fine, pete. just gimme a little while."

mj and ned meet you and peter on the sand. they form a circle with you, peter staying back. his eyes remain fixed on you, filled with worry.

"what happened, you let penis parker win? i thought we had a plan," mj jokes. "yeah, why'd you go rogue? we were supposed to stick together," ned agrees.

"i went the other way 'cause i wasn't gonna get to you guys fast enough, then peter tackled me."

their gazes shift over to peter, who sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

"dude!" ned punches peter's shoulder playfully. "major foul."

"it was an accident," peter mumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

"sure it was," mj deadpans.

peter is looking at you again, but you avoid looking at him. mj picks up on the tension between the two of you.

"hey, you good?"

"i'm kinda annoyed at peter. it hurt when he pushed me. i know he didn't mean to, but still, you know?"

"what a dumbass. come on, let's go get ice creams or something."

you give mj a half smile, throwing an arm around her shoulders. mj flips peter off as you two pass by him. ned starts yapping to peter about building the perfect sandcastle, but he doesn't listen. he's too distracted by his guilt over hurting you.

-

you're sleeping over at peter's later that night. you'd gotten back from the beach a little while ago, and nothing sounds better than cuddling up in bed with him. he had been trying to give you space since the tackling incident, careful not to be too touchy out of fear of hurting you again.

you feel bad for being kind of cold to him. even though you were upset in the moment, you got over it. you miss him being his usual touchy self. it's peter who's been choosing to distance himself.

peter lets you shower first, then he takes one. he finds you waiting on his bed after. you're wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of boxers.

"c'mere, i wanna cuddle."

"you sure?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?"

"i just wanna make sure you have enough space. y'know, after earlier."

you groan.

"i’m serious, y/n. i hate that i hurt you."

"peter," you stand up.

"and i’m sorry. really, really sorry. i’m never gonna let anything like that happen ever again, okay? i wasn't thinking."

"i know, peter. accident's happen, baby."

your arms circle around peter's shirtless torso. he doesn't trust himself to hold you just yet, so he keeps his arms at his sides.

"just because it was an accident doesn't make it okay."

you take peter's arms yourself and wrap them around you. his doe eyes meet yours. you hold his gaze reassuringly, an arm around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek.

"i like that you have super strength."

"you do?"

"yeah. it makes me feel safe, knowing you can always protect me. plus, you've got big arms. that's hot."

peter chuckles, perking up at that.

"sometimes you can't help how strong you are. i get it, pete. it's not your fault."

you nudge peter's nose with yours. peter moves in closer to you, letting out a sigh of relief. he kisses your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment.

"thank you. i love you."

"i love you, too."

you leave a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"sorry i was kinda mean to you earlier. it was just my first reaction."

"no, no. it's okay, baby. i’m the only one who should be sorry."

"stop apologizing. you don't have to be sorry anymore."

"but i am. i’m still really sorry i-"

you shove at peter's chest, making him fall backwards onto the bed, mimicking the way he tackled you earlier. you straddle his lap and take his face in your hands, giggling. peter carefully holds you on top of him by your sides. you lean forward so you're face to face.

"i forgive you."

you connect yours and peter's lips. he happily kisses you back, smiling into it.

tags (old taglist y'all sorry, gotta make a new form!):

@idkeverythingistakennn @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @mystic-writings @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @elllebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs @winchestersgirl222 @sunf1ower-vol6 @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @marvelgurl @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @sapphic_romanoff @itsjanedeluca @lomlbuckyy @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana

[u3pxx]

WELCOME HOME, POLLY! ✈️☀️🪄

finally sharing the piece i drew for @aasiblingszine! :^D if there's one thing about me, it's that i will be VERY sappy about apollo and trucy <3

leftovers are live over on here! so feel free to grab yourself a copy of this siblimful zine if you wanna feel warm and fuzzy and maybe cry a lil bit about ace attorney and the siblingisms of it all pftt <33

extra stuff under the cut! :^P | like this art? it'll be a print in my shop once the leftovers are over! | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

help i just noticed that the timelaspe i had of this didn't record me rendering the rest of the drawing 😭 oh well, here's the progress gif too why not pftt

it's been maybe more than a year since i drew this so very wild to see how my art style has evolved since this! considering that i'm currently in an art rut pftt, i've changed my inking pen so many times by now lol. but i still like this a lot! what's a den drawing without too many add (glow) layers and the sun setting down in it lmao

just looking at all the art and writing made for this zine was such a treat! so many heartwarming and heartwrenching scenarios so beautifully written and illustrated! flipping through this zine, i teared up a bit, my man!! i'm so glad to have worked with such talented peeps! :'^] <33

this drawing of mine is kind of an expansion of this old doodle i drew, i'm just a big enjoyed of trucy and apollo ending up being the same height after a timeskip AND i am also just very weepy about missing people who used to be always with you, mayhaps.

once again reminding you that leftovers are live!!! here's the link, go get this wonderful zine!!!

[readychilledwine]

Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.

( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)

Here Without You

Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.

Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating

A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.

*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*

💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙

You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.

Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.

You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.

The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.

Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.

You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.

You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.

You were alone.

And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.

The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-

You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.

This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.

Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"

You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."

Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.

You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.

It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.

"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"

You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."

Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.

"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"

"Lucien and Tamlin."

Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"

"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."

He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.

Your bed had never felt so soft.

Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.

His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.

Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.

But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.

Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.

But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.

The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.

The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.

The look of a father mourning lost time.

Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.

"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"

Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."

Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.

If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-

The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."

An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"

Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."

Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"

"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"

Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."

Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."

Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.

Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.

Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."

Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"

"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."

Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.

"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."

Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.

He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.

You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.

He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."

You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.

Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."

"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."

He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."

"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.

It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.

My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.

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@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

[magnolias-make-me-happy]

warnings: dirty talk,smutty smut,miguel o'hara

just watched across the spiderverse nd now i'm feral so enjoy my lovlies <3 (also peep the titanic reference)

No thoughts just this image of slow, nasty sex with miguel o’hara, his hips rocking into yours at an agonizingly slow pace. He's got his head in your neck and his arms wrapped around the back of your head holding you as close as humanly possible to him “that’s it cariño, such a good girl” he groans in your ear, his heavy panting warming your neck as he ruts into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper at the heavy feeling of pleasure permeating the room. “m-miguel” you manage to get out in between pants, your hands squeezing and clawing at his back leaving red lines in their wake “fuck” he hisses and you feel his fangs graze your neck sending a shiver down your spine, you gasp and arch up into his chest “shit miggy, so good” your words seem to slur as you toss your head back into the pillow as much as you can

as your hands slide down to his lower back to push him in further, miguel pulls away just enough to lean on his elbows “mírame mi amor” he purrs. You struggle to open your eyes but when you do you’re met with what you believe is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen

miguel’s hair is stuck to the skin of his forehead, pieces sticking up in odd places from being yanked on, his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his mouth is slightly open with the most sinful grunts falling from his lips, and his body is covered in a delicious sheen of sweat. that coupled with the sight of him rocking into your body is enough to make you cum right then and there. 

Jesus he looks like a god

He fucks like one too 

Miguel’s eyes are searching your face, memorizing every gasp, every contortion of pleasure, he loves nights like this. Where all that can be heard is the sound of your little whimpers and gasps of his name, where all he can feel in his entire being is the wet, warm pull of his cock inside of you. He gives one particularly hard thrust and it jolts you slightly up the bed “jesus! fuck-mm” the breath feels like it’s being knocked out of you as you approach that feeling of complete euphoria that only miguel can give you, his hips change pace and suddenly every thrust is almost impossibly deeper than the last. His hand slides down your body until it hooks under your knee and pulls your leg around his waist, as your legs lock around his back a growl rips through his body 

“se siente demasiado bien cariño” he rushes out in a pleasure filled groan, his hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls your head up to meet him in a desperate kiss. It’s wet and sloppy and feels so good as his hips continue to slam into yours, his pelvis catches your clit and you break the kiss, throwing your head back and moaning “ah-por favor miguel” he hangs his head to rest it against your shoulder, he lets out the most toe curling laugh “pobre bebé” he says in a mocking tone “puedes tómalo hmm? i know you can, such a good fucking girl for papi”

His words go straight to your core and you clench around his cock as he grunts “sí papi, make me cum” you whine “un poco más mamí, then you can cum all over this big cock yeah? I know you want it, tell me” miguel picks up his pace, the wet squelching sound filling the room “mierda, hear that? this pussy loves my thick cock, practically pullin’ me back in” tears start to roll down your eyes as you feel that burning fire in your stomach begin to flood all over your body “please miguel, m’so close i can’t-” you trail off as you get lost in the drag of miguel's cock, you can feel his thrusts getting rougher and his breathing quicker and you can tell that he’s close too 

“tell me you want it, baby” he breathes from above you, “fuck! I want it miguel please, wanna cum” your body feels like jello, all thought escaping your brain until there's nothing left but miguel. “cum” he orders, your pussy contracts around him while that band finally snaps, your legs shake and your nails dig into his sides as his hips continue to snap into yours, riding out your orgasm. he moans and speeds up his unforgiving pace “coño, buena chica,tómalo, tómalo” he captures your lips in his, his moans muffled as he spills into you, warmth spreading throughout your lower body

Miguel slips onto his forearms, his muscles taut and body absolutely covered in sweat. You roam your hands over his body, soothing him. “you’re trembling” you whispered, he offers you a lazy smile “i’ll be okay” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his broad chest expanding “so are you cariño” he says as he opens his eyes, you smile up at him. This beautiful greek sculpture of a man lying above you “yeah well that’s because i was fucked within an inch of my life so, whose fault is that” he respondes with a shake of his head and a small smile on his lips as he presses soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly slides off of you and heads to the bathroom

after a minute you can hear the water running, miguel appeared in your shared bedroom doorway “wanna take a bath with me mamí?” he holds out a hand for you to take, you beam at him before you start to make your way out of your bed only to realize something. “uh miguel?” “hmm?” 

“i can’t move my legs”

Translations:

cariño: sweetheart/dear

se siente demasiado bien: feels too good

por favor: please

pobre bebé: poor baby

puedes tomarlo: you can take it 

un poco más: just a little more

mierda: shit

coño: fuck 

buena chica: good girl 

tómalo: take it

[moonstruckme]

hi author !!! if it is okay with you i wanna request a fic in the same universe as the Big Brother!Sirius one where in reader gets a (secret) boyfriend and then they break up or whatever u want i just want hurt/comfort 🥹

Thanks for requesting <3

big brother!Sirius + little sister!reader ♡ 996 words

When you hear the door to your dorm open, you assume it’s one of your roommates or Regulus coming to shame you for missing dinner, but then your mattress shifts with the weight of someone else sitting down and a familiar teasing voice says, “If you’re dead under there, everyone’s going to think it was me.” 

You peep your eyes out from under the covers. “How did you get in here?” 

Sirius isn’t even looking at you. He’s making himself comfortable at the end of your bed, both legs crossed under him and hair falling in his face as he unwraps dishes and utensils. 

“Reggie let me in. He seemed to think you might need some company.” 

“He’s such a narc,” you grumble. 

Your brother only snickers. “Sit up, I brought you dinner.” 

You’d much rather stay under the covers, but know Sirius would only wrestle you into an upright position anyway. He always gets his way. 

“Yikes.” He makes a face as you sit up, revealing your bedhead and swollen eyes. “You’re having a rough one, huh?” 

“Shut up.” You glower at him and take the plate. “It’s not that bad.” 

Despite your grumbling, a bit of vulnerability sneaks into your tone. Sirius softens.

“No, it’s not,” he agrees, reaching forward to brush a piece of hair away from your face. “We’re always pretty; it’s in the genes.” 

You can’t help the small smile that fights its way onto your face. This is exactly the sort of thing your older brother would say when Regulus was twelve and sulking over getting his first pimple or when you nearly broke down in tears trying to style your hair. Despite his tomfoolery and general ridiculousness, Sirius’ levity actually provided a voice of reason in your family, reminding his siblings and cousins that things weren’t always so dire. 

“Thanks for bringing dinner,” you say.

“No problem,” Sirius replies softly, as though worried his gentle tone will be overhead and his rapscallion’s repute thusly destroyed. “Is it good enough that you’ll tell me what’s gotten you so upset?”

You blink at him in surprise. “Reg didn’t say?” 

Sirius’ mouth twists, dissatisfied. “He didn’t. I guess I would’ve been more likely to find out if I’d just pretended I already knew, huh?” 

That makes you chuckle. “Probably, yeah.” 

“Well, come on. Now you’ve gotta tell me.” 

You feel your shoulders hunch inwards. “Do I really have to?”

“Yes.” Your brother’s voice is firm, but his eyes are hopeful. 

You want to tell him, you find. You don’t suppose any harm can come from it now. 

You eye him carefully. “I broke up with my boyfriend.” 

Sirius’ eyes pop. He nearly topples your plate leaning forward, like you’re back in your childhood beds trading secrets. “You were dating someone?” 

“I was.” You can’t quite look at him, focussing on cutting your meal into small bites. “Or I thought I was. It doesn’t matter. I’m definitely not now.” 

“Wha—how did I not know about this?” 

“Because obviously I’m not going to talk about my dating life with my brother,” you huff a laugh down into your lap, and you swear you can feel the force of Sirius’ eye roll burning into the top of your head. “No one really knew. He wanted to keep it private.” 

Sirius tilts his head, slotting a piece of his hair behind his ear. “Private in an avoid-the-gossip-mill way or private in a dirty-secret way?�� 

You close your eyes, shame curdling in your gut. Even your idiot brother knows enough to be suspicious of something like that. Maybe if you’d told him all those weeks ago, you wouldn’t be where you are now.

“In the second way,” you admit in a whisper. “I, um, sort of assumed it was because of the first, and I liked the idea of keeping things private too, but it turned out he had other reasons.” 

You try to take another bite of food, but it feels soggy and unappetizing in your mouth. You set your plate aside. 

“What happened?” Sirius asks. 

Your face feels miserably hot. “He just didn’t like me as much as I liked him. He didn’t want his friends to know.” Tears burn in your eyes, and when you try to speak again they show up in your voice, too. “I feel really stupid.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sirius sits up on his knees, bending over you to fold you into a hug. His hand presses reassuringly between your shoulder blades, and you let out a little sob. “That doesn’t make you stupid, it only makes him a prat.”

You hug him tightly. “I just feel so silly being upset when he probably doesn’t even care.” 

“You are being silly,” he chastises, but there’s fondness in your brother’s tone. “Of course he cares. He may not be regretting things right now, but I’d bet ten galleons he will be by the end of the month. Trust me, babe, boys are idiots. We don’t know how to act, we almost never know what we want, and we’re ten times more likely to fuck something up if it’s important to us. Just ask Remus.” 

Your laugh is a soggy thing. Sirius rubs your back encouragingly. 

“So, what’s the sod’s name?” 

“Oh, no way.” You laugh even harder, pulling out of the hug to wipe under your eyes. “I’m not telling you.” 

“What?” Sirius throws up his hands. “But we were doing so well!” 

“I’ve handled it, Sirius. I don’t want you to go and turn his skin green or make him sprout nose hairs down to his chin.” 

A giddy grin. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Does Regulus know who it is?” 

You fix him with your sternest stare. Most other people would soil their pants, but because he’s your older brother, Sirius only raises a brow. “If he did, he wouldn’t tell you.” 

“That’s alright.” He steals a roll off your plate, biting into it insouciantly. “I’ll find out.”