#spare me I need to deal with the pain

[bluehandbag]

Imma be honest, Terry would have been much more successful convincing Claudia, if he' ha'd showed her the ruins of Katolis.

I simply cannot believe anyone would be moved seeing Sol Regem dead and not have been like "Yeah, man...but...he was kind of an asshole".

[the-yearning-astronaut]

Could I PLEASE catch a fuckin break for once? I tried to go get caught up on work tonight and instead my stupid fibro decided my chest, shoulders, arms, hands, and blasted right leg needed to feel a little extra pain tonight. And by extra pain I mean going from maybe a 3 to a 7 or 8 in a matter of a half hour. Can't even hold my fuckin tablet pen and draw a straight line due to the tremors. And cramping. And I can't miss work tomorrow night because I'm broke AF and need the hours. But also we're holding a star party which means I'll be standing around outside for 5hrs and if I'm in this much pain still tomorrow I'm not sure how I'm gonna handle 150+ people.

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna lives literally next door. you live in one of those apartment complexes where you rent a room and then have a common kitchen, bathroom and stuff with your almost-roommates inside of a bigger complex made of apartments just like yours, for students only.

if it wasn't for his 9 year old brother yuuji, who casually lives across from your room (wasn't this place for college students?) and is the literal definition of a ray of sunshine, you'd hate his guts. sure, he's hot for a guy who looks like he's failing half of his classes and makes sure you hear every single one of the girls he brings into his room at night, but he's still a major pain in your ass.

"where the hell do you think you're going?" he tells his brother, leaning on his door, arms crossed. the child is rushing to put his shoes on and zipping his sweater up.

"yn said she's going to take me running!" he responds grinning, tripping on his own feet from how excited he is before softly knocking on your door, all while sukuna looks at him raising one eyebrow.

"i'm starting to think you like her more than me, brat," he grits out just as you get out.

"oh he does, he just doesn't want to hurt your feelings by saying it," you rub in his face without sparing him a glance. he huffs and rolls his eyes, really wanting to punch you in the face. you ignore him and smile at yuuji, getting at his eye level.

"ready? whoever gets tired last will be the first player tonight in mario kart," you say wiggling your eyebrows.

"deal!" he squeals happily before running out the door. you know he's going to wait for you, he's a good kid, he's not going to run away. he's more mature than any 9 year old should be.

"y'know, if you needed some cardio you could've come in my room," sukuna tells you coming closer and looking you up and down. you have this cute set on that is making him salivate, but he still maintains some kind of distance.

"on my dead body, itadori senior," you lightly push him out of the way and go back into your room to get your bag.

"come on, i'll even push your head in the sheets so as not to look at your annoying ass face," he remarks, and you shoot him a dirty glance. he flips you off.

"can you talk about something that doesn't make me want to rip my ears off?" you mumble while searching for your house keys.

"i can talk about how i'll break your neck if you don't bring back my brother in two hours, if you want," he says, looking at you from the doorway, bored.

"he still likes me more."

"when you get home there will be another lock, bitch."

[auroreliis]

Hi! If you're comfortable with it, could I request batfams reactions to a reader who's suddenly clingy on their period or something similar? Normally I like my personal space but I am desperate for some type of warmth because cramps are actually killing me 💔

Bruce would still keep his distance, as he knows you don’t like physical touch. However, he would still be around you more, always asking if you need something. Anything sweet? Any pads? Any source of warmth? He will provide it immediately and be very understanding to you lashing out (don’t worry, he knows you can’t control it).

"What is it? You need pain killers?" He rumages in the bag he brought with him and hands you some pain killers.

"Hm? Chocolate? Yes, right awa-...what? Oh, oreo chocolate...? Mh. Fine, I'll go get some."

Dick would be very cuddly, almost as though HE’S on the period. He would hug you and sometimes even carry you around, despite your complaints…

“PUT ME DOWN YOU OVERSIZED CIRCUS CLOWN”

“:(”

Would he put you down? Well, yes. However, only at the destination. Then, after putting you down, he would take a step back and remain at that distance for about 5 minutes. After that, he would hug you again. And so the cycle repeats.

It does annoy you a lot, however, he is COMPLETELY unbothered by your shouting and your complaining. Like, dude. Take a fucking hint, will you? Obviously, since he’s already there, he also provides you with whatever you need. This means: If you want him to leave while also making him think that he’s doing you a favour, go send him to do something like getting you food or spare clothes. He will happily skip off, thinking he’s gaining your favour.

Jason would be playing with fire, always bothering you with stupid requests.

“So, wanna come to the library with me? I wanna go read something, but I also want you to be there”

You grumble, clearly declining his request.

“Well? Yes or no?” He is not taking the hint.

“No.” You mutter.

“What? A little louder, please”, he leans in closer.

“I SAID NO. Leave me the fuck alone. I want nothing to do with you. Haven’t I made that clear? Are you too stupid to notice? Do I need to be more direct?”

“:d”

At that point, he gives up for his own safety.

Tim, the leech, uses this opportunity, almost viewing it as a blessing.

“Heyyyyy, I have a heating pouch and all your favourite snacks and drinks and your favourite show prepared. If you come over to my room, I’ll make sure that nobody enters beside you and me AND I’ll let you take up the whole bed while I sit on a chair. What do you say? Wanna come to my room? :)”

If you foolishly decide to reject his offer, he will work hard to come up with something more alluring. Tim doesn’t give up easily.

Damian remains professional. He would probably create a presentation highlighting why you should ask him for help during hard times and not his brothers.

“Sibling. I am able to provide you with anything you require. As you know, whatever I provide is better than what anyone else in this manor could provide, hence why you should only ask me for help. Additionally, I am not as pushy as the other rejects, so taking up my offers is most ideal for you too. My goal is to help you, while their goal is to be in your proximity. Compare our values and see which you are most satisfied with.”

Stephanie and Cassandra completely understand. Despite how hard the others try, the girls would naturally be of most help. They’ve been there, they just get it. They also don’t annoy you, so you spend most of your period by their side. They just aren’t as loud and pushy as the others.

Secret bonding moment unlocked.

With special permission from Bruce (which they got with a lot of yapping and convincing), they get a hotel room and stay there with you until your period is over. This is very refreshing, as you don’t have to deal with the boys anymore and finally have some peace.

Honestly, the manor is always full at all times, but now it’s just the 3 of you. You all bond and have fun while the rest misses you. No, seriously, prepare for lots of cuddles to make up for your lacking presence </3

[abbysbug]

phone calls

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

content: dom!abby, sub!reader, fingering (a receiving), cunnilingus (a receiving), praise, degrading, masturbation, punishments, abby on the phone while getting fucked, bratty!reader.

You love to push Abby’s boundaries and buttons, and behaving in a way that you know enrages Abby, forcing her to give you the attention that you crave. But sometimes, it backfires on you.

You’re kneeling between Abby’s thighs with your hands neatly folded in your lap and a large dildo buried deep inside of you. Abby gave you strict instructions to stay quiet and still while she worked. The only attention she has given you was a quick slap to the face when you tried protesting, other than that, she’s completely ignored you.

Normally, you’re well-behaved when Abby is punishing you, but you're desperate for Abby's attention. The urge to grind on the dildo and the slick that is leaking down your thighs isn’t helping either.

You glance up at Abby. Her brows are furrowed and she’s aggressively typing on her keyboard, obviously having to deal with some stupid man from her work.

“Fuckin’ Owen.” She mutters angrily, grabbing her phone and dialling a number. She raises the phone to her ear, her voice changing to a cheerful one once she’s picked up.

“Hey Owen, I’ve seen that you’ve…” Her words become background noise as an idea hits you.

You slide your hands up Abby’s muscular thighs, pushing them apart slightly. Abby glances down at you, giving you a warning glare. You innocently smile, your hands continuing their path towards her heat.

In this moment, you’re grateful for Abby deciding to only wear boxers as you’re able to easily slip them off her hips, giving you access to her. You suppress a whimper at the sight of her dripping cunt, apparently, she’s not the only one desperate for attention.

You brush your thumb against Abby’s throbbing clit, chuckling at how her hips jerked towards your hand, begging for more. Using your spare hand, you spread Abby’s thighs further apart. You drag your fingers through her slick before softly pushing them into her awaiting hole.

Her walls are immediately clamping around your fingers, and she throws her head back, covering her mouth to muffle a moan. Your soft moans follow hers as you start to grind on the dildo.

“You okay, Abby?” You hear Owen ask through the phone speaker.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just hit my toe on the table,” Abby lies, attempting to push your hand away from her.

Instead of pulling away from her, you wrap your arms around her thighs, dragging her closer to the edge of her seat, and wrapping your lips around her clit, sucking softly. You push your two fingers back into Abby, curling them to hit the spot that drives her insane.

“Fuck. Owen, I’m gonna need to call you back. Alice just knocked over one of my vases,” Abby hits the hang up button before he could protest.

You moan loudly into her cunt as she grabs onto your hair, pulling you further into her. The pleasure from the dildo and the pain from her pulling your hair forces you to the edge of your orgasm.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare cum,” Abby grunts, grinding her hips into your face, desperately wanting to reach her high.

You could decide to ignore her, but instead you mumble a quiet, “Yes, Abby.”

“God, you’re such a whore. Couldn’t even wait till I was off the phone before touchin’ me, huh?” Abby’s voice is surprising dominant compared to her whiney moans. “Couldn’t even follow simple instructions either, fuck, always gonna be my little brat, aren’t you?”

You hum, cherishing the way she struggles to keep up with your fingers as her orgasm approaches. Your moans become louder as you struggle to control your own orgasm, every bounce causes the dildo to rub against your g-spot.

“That’s it, baby. Doing such a good job fucking yourself like some pathetic slut. Fuck, look at the mess you’ve made, you’re dripping all over my floor.”

You feel your face heat up at Abby’s comment. You are absolutely soaked and now there’s a puddle of your slick between your thighs. If your face wasn’t buried between Abby’s thighs, you would be more embarrassed.

Suddenly, Abby’s thighs clamp around your head and her back arches. A loud pornographic moan leaves her lips as her orgasm washes over her. She quickly becomes overstimulated and pushes your head away.

You carefully pull your fingers out from Abby, wrapping your mouth around them and moaning at the taste of her.

“Taste s’ good, Abs,”

Abby hums, wrapping her arms around your waist and easily lifting you into her lap. You cry out in frustration as the dildo slips out of you, leaving you with an uncomfortable feeling of emptiness.

“Poor baby.” Abby coos, her fingers tracing around your clenching hole. “All stretched out and ready for my cock – if only you had behaved, though.”

Your mouth falls open in protest, “But, Abby- “

Abby delivers a sharp slap to your thigh, “Don’t complain. You should be thanking me for even allowing you to fuck yourself."

“Thank you for letting me fuck myself,” You mumble, embarrassment flooding your system.

Abby kisses your forehead, “Such good manners,”

You preen at her praise, assuming that she was about to let you off the hook. But you couldn’t be more wrong.

Abby wraps her arms around your thighs, easily picking you up and walking towards the bedroom. You try to ask her what she’s doing but she’s dead silent – not a good sign. You knew not to disturb her while she worked, especially when you’re being punished. Yet, you decided to be a brat and disturb her.

You thought that being stripped of her attention and being edged was enough of a punishment, but she obviously didn’t think so.

Abby throws you on the bed, forcing your thighs apart and positioning herself between them.

"Always gotta be a fuckin' brat while I'm working," You yelp as Abby's hand comes slapping down on your clit. "Bet you act like this so I can punish you, huh? Dirty girl."

"Abby, I-"

You choke on your words as Abby pushes three fingers into you. She curls them perfectly, forcing a pornographic moan to fall from your lips. She wraps her mouth around your clit, flicking her tongue mercilessly as her fingers pump vigorously into you.

"Oh my god," You whine, your back arching off the bed.

She suddenly pulls away, "You are not to cum unless I allow it, do you understand?" You nod, but that isn't enough for her. "Words, baby."

"Yes, Abby. I understand," You whimper, hoping that she goes back to what she was doing before.

Instead, she decides to tease you. Her wet fingers glide over your stomach, leaving wet marks in their tracks. She continues to slowly drag her fingers across your exposed skin until you're crying out for her.

"Please, Abby," You sob, tears welling in your eyes. You feel pathetic.

She chuckles before placing her mouth back over your heat and thrusting her fingers into you. You feel yourself getting close, faltering right on the line of that blissful pleasure. Your hands seek solace in her hair, tugging at her braid and hips grinding against her.

Then she stops.

The confused look on your face makes her laugh, "Did you really think I'd let you cum, brat?"

MUCH LOVE TO @abbyism TO HELPING ME FINISH THIS <33

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛  do what i say and you'll see them again.  ❜ ❛  what do you live for? what do you try for?  ❜ ❛  say no more, i know tat i'm ready.  ❜ ❛  the blood on your hands is something you won't lose.  ❜ ❛  is the price i pay endless pain?  ❜ ❛  something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke.  ❜ ❛  we should try to find a way no one ends up dead.  ❜ ❛  why should we take when we could give?  ❜ ❛  i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  have you forgotten the lessons i taught you?  ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛  it's almost too perfect, too god to be true.  ❜ ❛  what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?  ❜ ❛  your life now is in my hand.  ❜ ❛  remember them, we're the ones who carry on.  ❜ ❛  what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?  ❜ ❛  i am your darkest moment.  ❜ ❛  i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test.  ❜ ❛  that's just like you, why should i be surprised?  ❜ ❛  unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain.  ❜ ❛  i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done.  ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛  at this rate, we won't make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.  ❜ ❛  yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out?  ❜ ❛  you rely on wit, and people die on it.  ❜ ❛  you're like the brother i could never do without.  ❜ ❛  and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?  ❜ ❛  keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust.  ❜ ❛  'cause the end always justifies the means.  ❜ ❛  do you know who i am?  ❜ ❛  you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.  ❜

The Circe Saga ❛  whatever you need to say can wait some more.  ❜ ❛  there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save.  ❜ ❛  wouldn't you like a taste of the power?  ❜ ❛  don't thank me friend, you very well may die.  ❜ ❛  did you do something to them?  ❜ ❛  if you make one wrong move, then you're done for.  ❜ ❛  you and i are now evenly matched.  ❜ ❛  you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust.  ❜ ❛  who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make?  ❜ ❛  this is the price we pay to love.  ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛  all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died.  ❜ ❛  when does a man become a monster?  ❜ ❛  now you tell us our effort's are for nothing?  ❜ ❛  how has everything been turned against us?  ❜ ❛  do i need to change?  ❜ ❛  i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed.  ❜ ❛  what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?  ❜ ❛  what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?  ❜ ❛  if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?  ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛  you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life.  ❜ ❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ ❛  you know that we are the same.  ❜ ❛  we must do what it takes to survive.  ❜ ❛  tell me you did not know that would happen.  ❜ ❛  if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame.  ❜ ❛  how are we supposed to trust you now?  ❜ ❛  how much longer must i suffer now?  ❜ ❛  someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say.  ❜ ❛  please don't make me do this.  ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛  you've made your worst mistake here.  ❜ ❛  this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good.  ❜ ❛  you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more.  ❜ ❛  did you know you talk in your sleep?  ❜ ❛  i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what i've gone through.  ❜ ❛  i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  life would be so much worse if you had died.  ❜ ❛  you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame?  ❜ ❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

[a-simple-imagine]

Don’t They Know a Rabbit Can’t Cry pt.2

Synopsis: the road is long and winding. You've been through so much. but the hardest thing to deal with is the newest revelation from Lilia.

Pairing: rio vidal x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader x rio vidal

words: 3.3k+

A/N - gave up on trying to make this something i couldn’t. It ended up focusing on the readers relationship with Rio sort of separate from Agatha. Sorry if that's not what you' expected

WARNINGS- swearing, descriptions of blood and injuries/pain

PREV //

The vibrant orangey-red sky and comforting embrace do little to distract from the stinging bubbling across your palm. It hurts something fierce. Red hot and wet. You keep your hand in a tight fist; blood bubbling beneath. It tickles a little as droplets spill down your wrist and onto the fabric of your clothes. Agatha sits behind you with her legs on either side, cradling you like one would an injured child. Soft voice in your ear an attempt to encourage you to show your injury. You stay curled into yourself. Shunning her pleas. It was just a scratch. It would heal in time. The other woman didn't need to fret about you any more than she already did. You hear another voice before you notice them. Rio must have returned from her trip. A few words were shared with Agatha before her attention was diverted to you.

"show me,"a temperate request.

"no," you urge. Twisting more into Agatha's embrace. Her grasp tightens slightly. Rio merely sighs before snatching your wrist and tugging your arm out. Your brow furrows.A tiny grunt of discomfort. She pries your fingers apart with ease, revealing the gash across your palm.

"How?" she catches your gaze but you don't answer so her eyes flicker to Agatha an instant later.

"accident in the woods."

"Can you not speak?" rio questions, fingers a smidge tighter around your arm.

"Can you let go?" you shoot back, attempting to pull away but she holds on tight.

"you must be more careful," Rio leans down, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your palm "My love."

"you needn't worry," you express as she eventually releases your hand. A faint red scar that would go away in time. "I am fine."

"for now," Rio shows a smile. Tiny and gentle. Easy to miss. She cups your face and you instinctively lean into her touch; thumb brushing over your cheek. "does it feel better?" said warmly. You nod. "I am glad."

"This is why you should listen," Agatha scolds

"you know, should you need you can just call for me?"

"I do not wish to bother you." you express, a touch warmer. Softened by the soothed hand.

"it matters not when it is you," Rio murmurs. A brighter smile.

"and it is me who is too soft?" Agatha scoffs. "hardly,"

"This is different," a hand held out as she stood. "it's getting late. We should go inside before you catch your death."

"a little cold never hurt me." you accept her hand allowing the help up. "Agatha and I finished making jam earlier, you should try some."

"you made jam just for me?"

"it was not made for you," Agatha comments following behind the two of you. "you just happened to return."

The end was so close you could almost taste it. The bitter taste of death. It's not that your wish was to die right at the end but to rid yourself of the burden of immortality; and live a life that would one day end for that was what made it worth living in the first place. Hundreds of years of a life that should have ceased years ago. You would also be rid of Agatha and Rio. No longer a spare moment interrupted by their presence. Agatha Harkness who grew more unbearable to be around the further you travelled the road. And Rio Vidal… a green witch you used to know. Maybe Lilia had been lying. There was no way to fact-check now. There are but three others left. Agatha, Jen and Billy. You have no idea where they are. Agatha had basically charged out of the last trial. Jen and Billy were a mystery. You had wandered in search of respite. Searing pain encases your arm; a trail of blood droplets leading towards a tree. You tumble against it. Breathing through the overwhelming sensation.

"whatcha doin'?" such a playful tone could only belong to one witch. Rio. Too focused on yourself you hadn't even noticed her presence but now the slight chill in the air was beginning to shiver up your spine. Her magic always felt a little overwhelming. She possessed a great deal.

"where have you been?" words harsh as your eyes search for her. A shadowy figure across the way leaning against a tree. A pit begins to form in your stomach "Rio?"

"working," eventually answered. Working. Even back then it was always her reason for taking days away. You never really challenged it. You had no reason to. And Rio never seemed interested in explaining what she got up to. "where are the others?"

You dare a shrug. The fire spreads in response. You swallow a groan as best you can but it is much harder to hide your face. You had never been exceptionally good at that. "somewhere up ahead. Listen closely and you'll probably hear Agatha yelling," An attempt at a joke but your heart is hardly in it. You takea resounding breath and let your head tumble back against the bark. Seems like you spend a lot of time amongst the trees. Rio used to say it was important to foster a good relationship with nature. It's what sustains all living things. She was a green witch though so her connection in particular probably made her biased. You always enjoyed exploring with Rio. Many hours spent in grassy fields or harvesting fruit for sweet treats and whatnot. "I just…"

"you're hurt," a knife between fingers twinkles in the moonlight. "and Agatha just left you?"

You never wish to defend Agatha Harkness of all people but in her defence, she wasn't aware of your injury. None of them were. A rogue sword managed to catch you before you could jump out of the way. You would be fine. It wasn't a devastating blow. Just grazed the skin all the way down your arm. Probably looked worse than it was. "nothing new then."

A bark of laughter that quickly settles from the green witch. "she was practically sobbing when that boy got hurt," pushing herself up, she starts stalking towards you. "guess we know where her priorities lie," you swallow hard. Guess we do. While you had made it rather clear you wanted nothing to do with her. Rio bringing up her reaction to Billy did pull at your stomach a little. Once cared so much. Now cared so little. It wasn't like you were hiding your injury well if Rio's quick evaluation was anything to go by. One momentary glance away from the other witch and she was suddenly towering over you. "shame," she crouches down to your level, hooking her index finger under your chin and lifting ever so slightly. "to leave such a pretty thing behind," heat floods your cheeks, making you feel a different kind of warmth. She was playing to your softer side. The vulnerability of being injured. A cunning fox playing with her food. You wait for the enviable moment she switches. Often her treats were paired with tricks. A hand around your throat. A knife in your back. Disappearing one night without a trace. But she doesn't. "let me kiss it better."

Rio was an extraordinarily healer. No need for spells or chants she preferred physical contact. In the past, it was often a kiss; much like the famous saying. You'd witnessed her lick Agatha a few times to dispel her injuries.

"no, it's fine," your free arm shoves her away. "get off me."

Entirely unfazed.A slight chuckle. "still mad?"

"fuck you."

"guess so," the corner of her lips quirk up into an almost missable smirk. "it'll only take a second," a furrowed brow is met with a viper fast root vine that slithers around your wrist and yanks your arm out on display. An audible groan dragged from your lips. Eyes scrunch up as tears begin to swell.

"what the hell?" typical Rio. "don't lick me."

A threat rather than a statement. You know her games. The attempts to rile you up. A roll of her eyes. She crosses her legs as she sits down opposite you. The tip of her thumb swipes over her tongue before cold fingers wrap around your arm. You watch her gradual movements, applying pressure around the edge. "does that hurt?"

"you know it does." you grit your teeth. Willing yourself not to cry. She didn't deserve it. She presses even harder. Pain pricking around her fingertips. You squirm but it only makes your arm burn and her grip tighten. "Rio," voice low. A little whiny. Begging for something; her to let go or heal it, you're not sure. "please," her thumb drifts slowly. Collecting blood and leaving a faint scar in its path as the stinging sensation begins to fade. A few stray tears manage to fall your cheeks. The green witch pops her blood-soaked thumb into her mouth. Holding your gaze a satisfied smirk grew. A low hum. the delicious taste of your suffering.

"just like old times," muttered quietly. She sounds almost timid. Perhaps a response to reminiscing on the past or she knew the reaction she would get bringing it up. If you didn't know her well enough, you'd think she was fond of your time together.

"Can you… let me go now?" the vine tightens before slipping away. You run your fingers over the scar, stretching your wrist out. It was feeling a lot better. Rio watches you carefully. No attempt to get up. You make no attempt to push her away. Softened by a soothed arm. She reaches out once more. Hesitating as if giving you a chance to stop her before she wipes away the remnants of your tears.

"better?"

You nod a little and her hand lowers. "thanks."

"this game you're playing ends soon. Do you think you'll get what you want?"

"why wouldn't I?" you query.

Rio's hands maneuver across the dirt around her in smooth steady motions. "nothing feels…" a handful of dirt brought up between the two of you before pouring to the ground. "off to you?"

Your eyes narrow in contemplation. Does anything feel off? Nothing felt normal. You were on a magical road. The Witches Road. The stuff of legends. "should it?" a soft sigh falls past Rio's lips.

"you may think you've changed- almost convinced me with that whole tough girl act" She shakes her head. Almost like she's disappointed. "but you're still that same girl." she expresses. No venom in her words. Hardly an emotion at all. "naïve. Trusting. I could say the world was ending and you'd probably believe me."

"I'm not," you try to sound as firm as possible. Fingertips going back to your arm. "I wouldn't believe a word that comes out of your mouth."

A chuckle. "and yet you believe this road is the answer to all your problems."

"Agatha is the one who asked me to come,"

"and you just believed her?"

"She is the only known survivor," many witches attempt the road. That much you knew. Nobody ever comes back. It wasn't that you believed Agatha. She was on some misguided trip for power. It was more an act of desperation.

"notorious liar and serial killer Agatha Harkness."

"you need a coven for the road and I-" you continue but she's not listening.

"hid behind dark magic."

"Rio,"

"the woman who abandoned you-"

"Rio. stop it," you state loudly.

"I'm not doing anything," she shrugs. "just speaking the truth."

"I know what she did- what you did," you huff. Your eyes flicker down to the small pile of dirt Rio made. You reach for it. Rolling pieces of the road between your fingers. It felt rough. Sharp. Real. that sword that sliced your arm. The blood that spilled. It was real. "I need this- I need the road to be something." you drop it back down. smoothing it around the ground with your hand. It had been a long road. It was hard being here. Seeing them again. Sharon. Alice. Lilia. You hardly knew them but they didn't deserve to die. This couldn't have been for nothing. You needed to get to the end. To prove you weren't that stupid girl they thought you were. You needed the suffering to end. It had to be real. It just had to be. "I can't keep searching forever." your words hang heavy in the air.A despairing confession to the road.

"Why do you see immortality as a curse?" the other witch asks. Your eyes flicker up to find her staring at you. You feel hot under her gaze and quickly look away. "and not a blessing?"

A blessing? That was ludicrous. It brought you nothing but suffering. Endless life was no gift. How could it be? How could Rio of all people believe that after what Lilia said? Unless it wasn't true. "Rio."

"yeah?"

"why didn't you tell me?" or more so how could she not tell you? You had known her for centuries. And yet it was Lilia who revealed her true identity.

"tell you what?"

"Lilia said you're…"

"I'm…?"

"death," a whisper on the breeze. Death. Rio was death. Is death. Some living embodiment of a concept. It wasn't easy to comprehend. Your brain still didn't quite understand how it worked or if it was even true.

"What happened back there?"

"you'd know if you'd been there," a bitter tone. You don't know why. It just felt like one minute she was there and the next she vanished. Back then and even now on the road.

"do you think you would have handled it well if I had?"

You shrug. Who knows. Back then you navigated the world with an unchecked sense of naivety. You would never deny the girl you once were. You would have followed Agatha and Rio to the end of the world had they asked. They were everything. You truly used to believe they had your best interest at heart. It was stupid thinking back. To trust two predators so easily. there were plenty of red flags that you chose to ignore. You don't know how you would have reacted to the news. There was no way of knowing. You're not that girl anymore. "maybe."

"not even a little."

"you don't know that,"

"I do," her voice is forceful. No room for misinterpretation. "I really do."

"I don't get it," she reaches for your hand. Slow and cautious. You don't pull away. You let her have the moment. The original Green Witch was something you were familiar with. You had originally thought that just meant she was a really powerful witch which is still true but different. a cosmic entity. It's hard to understand a concept such as death having a physical form. Never mind one that looked so ordinary. Well, not ordinary but humanoid.

"you do get it, trust me" as she squeezes your hand. Presumably an attempt at reassurance. You pull away. Perhaps she was right. Maybe you just refused to accept that Rio was death. Maybe it was just too hard to understand. As you stare into captivating eyes you see a world that once was. Silk black hair spilling out from a spring green hood. Kissing wounds so minuscule just to save you some discomfort. The prettiest of flowers just so happened to appear on your strolls. Delicate locks embellished with perfect petals. Sure, she had never been the gentlest of souls. Not like Agatha who was always there to catch you when you fall. But Rio Vidal had her way of showing affection. How could someone like that possibly be death? "you're trying to apply human morality to death. But death is neither right nor wrong. Good nor bad. It simply is." it simply is. Death didn't discriminate. It wasn't fair or just. It simply is. Hated by so many. Sought after by others. Death wasn't good nor bad but Rio? Could her actions really be excused? If all the bad she did wasn't her doing then neither were those little moments of goodness. Was something like death even capable of feeling? "I am the natural order of all things."

"not me though," you say quietly. "does immortality not go against your natural order?" Rio's eyes flicker away but you reach for her face. Firm hands cupping cold skin. She always ran a little cold. Guess that made more sense now. You can tell she's surprised as you push her to face you. Force her attention to remain on the unnatural. "did Agatha know even back then?" rio nods against your hands. Of course, she did. Maybe that's why they ran off together. A serial killer and the embodiment of death. Quite the pair. "oh,"

"it's how we met actually- before you," that small pocket of anxiety sinks deeper at the mention of a time before you. To a relationship only they shared. You had your moments with each of them. But they had many more without you and that would always mean something. "death doesn't wait for you at the end of this stupid road. I've always been right behind you."

Anger settles but never gone. Your jaw tense. Nails digging into the back of her neck. She doesn't even flinch. There is some truth behind her words. You've been chasing death for as long as you care to remember. Searching for her in textbooks and scrolls. Bitter potions and fruitless spells. But in actual reality, you have known her all along. It was funny in its own way. Ridiculous. Even now as you hold them in your hand, it's still hard to understand. Your mind races with questions. So you merely sink into death. Wrapping your arms around her as you bury your face in the crook of her neck. Inhaling the familiar earthy scent and dewy undertones. It's a second or two before her arms wrap around you and her body relaxes. Her grip is fierce; bruising even like she's been waiting for this instant. Fearful you'll slip away again if she lets go. It's a comfort in a way. Terrifying in another.

"you're not mad anymore?" you very much still were. There had been no apology. Barely an explanation. That flame still burned inside. This wasn't forgiveness by any means. You were just overcome. Tears threatening to spill as you cling to her. Allowing your emotions to wash over yourself. It's strange. It's confusing. It's Rio. She's never held you with so much urgency. So much sentiment.

"te he extrañado," a painfully tight squeeze that gives you a point of hesitation. An admission you never predicted. Not now. There's a twist in your stomach. A tug at your heart. A deep inhale of death. It makes no sense and yet so much. Possibly a joke. Some sick game she was playing. How was the embodiment of death was somehow capable of missing you and yet…

"I miss you too," confessed against the skin of her neck. Her grip falters and you take the opportunity to pull back. You come face to face with her once more. Offering a small almost sad smile. Rio looks to the ground and you follow. a single white daisy. She plucks it. Rolling the stem between her fingers as she looks to you once more. flower so lovingly placed behind your ear before rising to her feet.

"you should head back to the others," she insists, brushing herself off. "wouldn't want you to get lost out here," a sharp turn on her heel. You scramble to your feet as she begins walking away. Brow furrowing.

"Rio," you call out. She halts but doesn't turn your way. You know there's no point in chasing after her. "did you… do this to me?"

"do what?"

"curse me," she lets your query linger in the air for an uncomfortably long time.

"Maybe," she answers back. "run along now rabbit."

[steinfellds]

Calling Her Phone [W.M]

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You love to push Wanda's boundaries and buttons, and behaving in a way that you know enrages Wanda, forcing her to give you the attention that you crave. But sometimes, it backfires on you.

Content: Dom!Wanda, sub!reader, fingering (W receiving), cunnilingus (W receiving), praise, degrading, masturbation, punishments, Wanda on the phone while getting fucked, bratty!reader, mommy kink.

You’re kneeling between Wanda's thighs with your hands neatly folded in your lap and a large dildo buried deep inside of you. Wanda gave you strict instructions to stay quiet and still while she worked. The only attention she has given you was a quick slap to the face when you tried protesting, other than that, she’s completely ignored you.

Normally, you’re well-behaved when Wanda is punishing you, but you're desperate for Wanda's attention. The urge to grind on the dildo and the slick that is leaking down your thighs isn’t helping either.

You glance up at Wanda. Her brows are furrowed and she’s aggressively typing on her keyboard, obviously having to deal with some stupid man from her work.

“God, Tony.” She mutters angrily, grabbing her phone and dialling a number. She raises the phone to her ear, her voice changing to a cheerful one once she’s picked up.

“Hey Tony, I’ve seen that you’ve…” Her words become background noise as an idea hits you.

You slide your hands up Wanda's thighs, pushing them apart slightly. Wanda glances down at you, giving you a warning glare. You innocently smile, your hands continuing their path towards her heat.

At this moment, you’re grateful for Wanda deciding to only wear panties as you’re able to easily slip them off her hips, giving you access to her. You suppress a whimper at the sight of her dripping cunt, apparently, she’s not the only one desperate for attention.

You brush your thumb against Wanda's throbbing clit, chuckling at how her hips jerked towards your hand, begging for more. Using your spare hand, you spread Wanda's thighs further apart. You drag your fingers through her slick before softly pushing them into her awaiting hole.

Her walls are immediately clamping around your fingers, and she throws her head back, covering her mouth to muffle a moan. Your soft moans follow hers as you start to grind on the dildo.

“You okay, Wanda?” You hear Tony ask through the phone speaker.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just hit my toe on the table,” Wanda lies, attempting to push your hand away from her.

Instead of pulling away from her, you wrap your arms around her thighs, dragging her closer to the edge of her seat, and wrapping your lips around her clit, sucking softly. You push your two fingers back into Wanda, curling them to hit the spot that drives her insane.

“Fuck. Tony, I’m gonna need to call you back.” Wanda hits the end call button before he can protest.

You moan loudly into her cunt as she grabs onto your hair, pulling you further into her. The pleasure from the dildo and the pain from her pulling your hair forces you to the edge of your orgasm.

“Don’t you dare cum, slut.” Wanda grunts, grinding her hips into your face, desperately wanting to reach her high.

You could decide to ignore her, but instead, you mumble, “Yes, mommy.”

“God, you’re such a whore. Couldn’t even wait till I was off the phone before touching me?” Wanda's voice is surprisingly dominant compared to her whiney moans. “Couldn’t even follow simple instructions either, fuck, always gonna be my little brat, aren’t you?”

You hum, cherishing the way she struggles to keep up with your fingers as her orgasm approaches. Your moans become louder as you struggle to control your own orgasm, every bounce causes the dildo to rub against your g-spot.

“That’s it, baby. Doing such a good job fucking yourself like some pathetic slut. Fuck, look at the mess you’ve made, you’re dripping all over my floor.”

You feel your face heat up at Wanda's words. You are absolutely soaked and now there’s a puddle of your slick between your thighs. If your face wasn’t buried between Wanda's thighs, you would be more embarrassed.

Suddenly, Wanda's thighs clamp around your head and her back arches. A loud pornographic moan leaves her lips as her orgasm washes over her. She quickly becomes overstimulated and pushes your head away.

You carefully pull your fingers out from Wanda, wrapping your mouth around them and moaning at the taste of her.

“Taste s’ good, Wands,”

Wanda hums, wrapping her arms around your waist and easily lifting you into her lap. You cry out in frustration as the dildo slips out of you, leaving you with an uncomfortable feeling of emptiness.

“Poor baby.” Wanda coos, her fingers tracing around your clenching hole. “All stretched out and ready for my cock – if only you had behaved, though.”

Your mouth falls open in protest, “But, mommy- “

Wanda delivers a sharp slap to your thigh, “Don’t complain. You should be thanking me for even allowing you to fuck yourself."

“Thank you for letting me fuck myself,” You mumble, embarrassment flooding your system.

Wanda kisses your forehead, “Such good manners,”

You preen at her praise, assuming that she was about to let you off the hook. But you couldn’t be more wrong.

Her fingertips suddenly are encased in red wisps, your body is lifted from her lap, and she stands, walking towards the bedroom. Her magic hovers you over the ground and forces you to follow her. You try to ask her what she’s doing but she’s dead silent – not a good sign. You knew not to disturb her while she worked, especially when you were punished. Yet, you decided to be a brat and disturb her.

You thought that being stripped of her attention and being edged was enough of a punishment, but she obviously didn’t think so.

Wanda's magic throws you on the bed, and she forces your thighs apart and positions herself between them.

"You always are a little brat while I'm working, aren't you?" You yelp as Wanda's hand comes slapping down on your clit. "Bet you act like this so I can punish you, huh? Dirty girl."

"Mommy, I-"

You choke on your words as Wanda pushes three fingers into you. She curls them perfectly, forcing a pornographic moan to fall from your lips. She wraps her mouth around your clit, flicking her tongue mercilessly as her fingers pump vigorously into you.

"Oh my god," You whine, your back arching off the bed.

She suddenly pulls away, "You are not to cum unless I allow it, do you understand?" You nod, but that isn't enough for her. "Words, baby."

"Yes, mommy. I understand," You whimper, hoping that she goes back to what she was doing before.

Instead, she decides to tease you. Her wet fingers glide over your stomach, leaving wet marks in their tracks. She continues to slowly drag her fingers across your exposed skin until you're crying out for her.

"Please, Wanda," You sob, tears welling in your eyes. You feel pathetic.

She chuckles before placing her mouth back over your heat and thrusting her fingers into you. You feel yourself getting close, faltering right on the line of that blissful pleasure. Your hands seek solace in her hair, tugging at her braid and hips grinding against her.

Then she stops.

The confused look on your face makes her laugh, "Did you really think I'd let you cum, brat?"

[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him. 

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss. 

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted. 

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare. 

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he? 

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live. 

You were there for him, with him. 

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily. 

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again. 

When it was necessary. 

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers. 

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal. 

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made. 

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return. 

How had he ever thought your absence poetic? 

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day. 

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything. 

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you. 

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you. 

It didn’t. 

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention. 

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him. 

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren. 

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here…  go listen to them… keep me hidden… 

He never smiled at you. 

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant. 

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life. 

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow. 

That should be enough for you. 

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered. 

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you. 

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything. 

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left. 

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still. 

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you. 

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance? 

He’d never even asked you for a name. 

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day? 

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about. 

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence. 

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came. 

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy. 

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it. 

“I forgive you.”  

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.” 

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.”  He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty. 

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone. 

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.  

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.  

You kissed him. 

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.  

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste. 

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss. 

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you. 

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory. 

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint. 

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face. 

The sight was divine. 

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy. 

Happy to be his shadow. 

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

[golden1u5t]

angry italian | a.h x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: angst + fluff

ꨄ summary: after getting shot in the stomach, aaron can't help but become emotional and rossi can't help but notice which leads him to discovering your relationship with him.

a loud shot ringing through the air combined with your blood curling scream caught everyone's attention. you hunched over in pain while holding your side, blood spilling from between your fingers. aaron was the first to get to you, shoving past rossi and everyone else who was in his way. the unsub had taken the chance to run while all the attention was on you but when morgan noticed he took off running after him, only after sparing you a second glance.

"y/n! no, no, no, no, keep your eyes open, please." he lays you down on the ground and replaces your hands with his because his hands are bigger than yours, they cover more area.

rossi came over to announce that the medics were on their way and to hold you, only to get confused when he saw aaron already holding you. choosing to ignore what he saw, rossi kneeled down beside you and placed his hand on your hair.

you managed to blink away the tears in order to look up at him, you let go of aaron's hand and reached for his. "dad, i- i'm sorry. i'm so sorry." you sobbed.

"don't apologize, it's not your fault." he made sure to place a kiss to your head before standing up and letting the medics in. he started to turn around but stopped when he noticed that aaron was still holding onto you. "hotch? she needs to get to the hospital!"

aaron looked back at rossi before looking at you, he ran his hand over your face before letting the medic take over holding your wound.

"i'm right behind you, okay?" aaron squeezed your hand and stepped back so they could wheel you off into the ambulance. he stood there until he couldn't see you anymore. despite the anger bubbling in rossi's chest, he tossed aaron the keys and let him drive them to the hospital.

+++

rossi went in the see you first since he's family while aaron paced back and forth in the waiting room. he was continuously checking his watch to see how long rossi had been in your room.

"aaron." rossi put his hands in his pockets and walked further into the waiting room. "you can see her now but don't be too long, she needs rest and we need to talk."

aaron hardly let him get the last part out before he was rushing out to your room, rossi shook his head and took a seat on the bench.

when you heard the door open you pushed your head into the pillow the best you could, thinking it was your dad coming back to lecture you on your relationship with aaron.

"sweetheart?" you couldn't turn your head fast enough to look at him. aaron sat down on the chair beside your bed and reached for your hand. "how are you? are you in any pain, i can get the nurse?"

"aside from my dad lecturing me about our relationship, i think i'm okay." you squeezed his hand, lightly laughing at the look on his face. "don't look surprised, he'll get over it."

aaron shook his head and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips, you moved your arm to rest over his shoulder and push your fingers through his hair. you pulled away and looked over your shoulder as if you could sense your dad staring daggers through the glass at you both.

"you should go deal with that." you chuckled. aaron sighed and stood up, he made sure to check that you were okay before heading out into the hallway to speak with rossi. he barely got the door closed behind him before rossi was biting his head off. "she's my daughter for gods sake, aaron!"

all you could do was laugh as you listened to your dad switch from english to italian with every other sentence he spoke.

[manifestobackshot]

Hoon who's so stressed after a Figure skating comp and just needs to take out all his stress on you <33

Stressed

Poor Hoon who can't even wait to properly be alone with you, his manager turned dirty little secret, to fuck.

    ✰ PAIRING

↳ park sunghoon x fem!reader

    ✰ GENRES & AUS

↳ smut, figure skater!sunghoon au, secret relationship

    ✰ WORD COUNT

↳ 1.3k words

    ✰ WARNINGS/CONTENT

↳ reader is sunghoon's manager, they have sex in secret, car sex, biting, pain kinda, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, biting, sunghoon is a little selfish

if you read, please reblog.

—

It was a bad run for Sunghoon, showed up late and lost 15 minutes of preparation, couldn't land his routine as he usually does, didn't place like he usually does. As a perfectionist, this fucked him up more than anything. Even worse, his coach scolds him after, going on about how conditioning obviously wasn't conditioning him enough, how this season seems to be the beginning of his downfall, how so much work goes into molding and shaping Sunghoon into the perfect skater, and yet he still manages to end up like this.

His coach has more words to say, but as you pass by, he stops his scolding and calls you over, "Christ, I can't anymore. Do you have the manager's spare I gave you?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Just take him out to the van first, I don't have the energy right now. Sunghoon, show up at 6 am tomorrow, not 7 am. We clearly have work to do," he finishes, rolling his eyes and storming off.

You two walk out to the parking garage alone, passing by a couple cars exiting. It's quiet on the way there, not a peep from Sunghoon, only the sounds of cars, the rustling of his competition bag, and your footsteps.

You approach and unlock the team van, opening the door and letting Sunghoon in the backseat before climbing in with him. You have some room to sit, talk, and ask what the fuck happened in the comfort of idle time and tinted windows.

Surprisingly, Sunghoon is first to ask something, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Mm," you acknowledge, dropping your professional manager act and inching closer to him, leaning on his shoulder.

"Help me out," he starts, taking your hand into his and guiding it onto his abdomen, trailing it down towards his sweats, "relieve some stress for me?"

You know that the rest of the team, coach included, take forever to deal with things after the competition. Usually, Hoon would be back there mingling and whatnot for at least another half hour. Right now, you have the time.

...And how could you ever say no to him when he's like this? Aching against your hand, cold palms guiding you to where he wants you most, face flushed with frustration and humiliation from the verbal ass-whooping handed to him, instability in his voice from anger... no isn't even on your mind.

You don't even say anything to him as you gently move his hand so you can slightly roll over and quickly undo the button on your black jeans, sliding them and your panties down your thighs and off of you to place them in the front seat for easy access later on.

Sunghoon, though he wants you so bad right now, doesn't say anything as he waits for you to get ready for him to fuck you. He just looks at you, lips parted and brows slightly furrowed, overwhelmed with both frustration and need to release. His sweats and boxer briefs are pulled down just enough to release his cock, swelled with arousal, so he can spit in his hand and swipe it over his pink tip and stroke himself in anticipation.

You know he gets quiet when he's angry, and he loves to fuck when he's angry. It's nothing against you, in fact, he can express himself much better through his action than his words in moments like this.

And express himself he does when you hover over him to lower yourself onto him, sacrificing your comfort and preparation to take care of your dear skater Sunghoon, and he places his hands on your hips, pushing you down onto his length with a searing stretch that feels good only because it's him.

He hisses entering you dry like this, enjoying the warmth of your walls but missing the wetness, though, in this moment, he doesn't care. In time, you'll be exactly what he needs, he knows it.

Words can't express how disappointed he is in himself, how frustrated he is, how mad he is at his coach, or how good you feel around him. All he can do is bury his face in the crook of your neck as he lifts your hips to set the pace he wants you to fuck him at—rough and fast.

You give in, keeping up with the direction his hands are so desperately signaling to you. You look down at him as he's focused on how it feels to fuck it out, thick, dark eyebrows knitted in pleasure and chasing release.

When Sunghoon looks up, you feel the tip of his nose and the plushness of his lips trail upwards before leaving you, replacing the sensation with his teeth grazing—no, biting— your neck.

It's hard to match his desperation and fuck him as hard as he wants you when he's locked onto you like this, thrusting upwards into you. You roll your hips into him, causing the seats of the car to buck and creak with every movement.

Still, it isn't enough for Sunghoon, muffling frustrated whimpers against the skin of your neck—now purple and red—as he tries to bury himself deeper, deeper, and deeper into you. Maybe, if he buries his cock into you deep enough, he'll be numb to the anger.

Truthfully, though, it's clear that he still feels every ounce of anger in his body, and he's making you feel it too. His strokes are vicious and sharp, tip hitting your cervix every time he bottoms out. It hurts, but you let him, cause you know he needs it.

Hoon feels blissfully painful inside of you as he drags his length against your walls, face still buried in your neck, kissing, licking, and biting you. He loves the way you feel wrapped around him, slowly becoming wetter as he fucks you so, so well.

He groans, both out of frustration and how good your cunt feels as he mercilessly uses you to relieve his stress. His hair clings to your skin as sweat sticks you two together with Sunghoon's face buried into your neck and chest, breathing heavily as he chases his orgasm.

The sound of your wet cunt makes his eyelids flutter closed, long eyelashes softly brushing against your skin as he imagines how hot it must look for you, all sloppy and swollen, to take his cock this roughly. He wishes he had to time and space to lay you out and see himself stretch your tight pussy out on his cock, taking every inch of him like he know you can.

He loves having you like this, knowing that you'd do anything for him even though it means you hurt a little more for him. You ache, for his pleasure. You act, for his pleasure.

Sunghoon grips the flesh on your hips harder, so strongly that you know it'll bruise and ache for days after, a reminder of him. He grabs you and slams you into him, bottoming out every time without failure, at an ever-increasing, delicious pace.

His breathing picks up and he slides down the seat just the slightest bit so he can fuck up into you even better. Hoon can't hide anymore, moans escaping his hips as he pushes you down further, and further, until he's moaning in desperation of release.

As he's pounding mercilessly into your sopping wet cunt, with one sharp motion, he fully sheaths himself into you one last time, shooting his hot, anguished cum inside of you, shuddering against your skin as he shallowly fucks the last drops of cum out of himself.

Out of breath, he pulls out of you, letting his load drip out of you onto his sweatpants before you carefully roll over to start cleaning up.

"Sorry," he exhales, "was a little stressed."

[reiding-writing]

SANCTUARY — SPENCER REID!

Spencer has a rough night.

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.7k | hurt/comfort | book fayre !!

WARNINGS | spencer’s drug addiction, withdrawal descriptions, needles, track marks

part one.

main masterlist. | event masterlist.

a/n — thank you for the love 🫶🫶 (i accidentally deleted the ask but i had it screenshotted thank god)

When you offered Spencer the spare room in your apartment so he wouldn’t have to be alone during the worst of his withdrawals, he was so grateful he cried.

Now though, he was beginning to wonder if it was really all that good of an idea.

Spencer couldn’t help it, really. The drug cravings he was dealing with were intense. He would try and try, but nothing was working— not gum, not candy, not freezing cold showers or sleeping 18 straight hours.

It didn’t help that the withdrawal symptoms were getting worse. He was exhausted, his stomach was in tangles, headaches pounding incessantly behind his eyes.

It was getting harder and harder to resist each passing minute. As he desperately looked around your apartment for something, anything, to get the drug-induced itch out of the back of his mind, he decided he couldn’t do this anymore.

Desperate, Spencer slowly made his way to your room. He knew that you would probably be asleep, but he didn’t care. He slowly pushed open your door and crept into your room, trying not to trip over anything in the shrouded darkness shielding you from a disturbance to your slumber.

He gingerly sat down next to your sleeping form, gently shaking your shoulder to rouse you, and after a few moments, you slowly began to stir, slowly blinking your eyes open and looking up at the shadowed figure by your side.

You take a sharp breath in through your nose as you wake, blinking the sleep harshly from your eyes. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

At the sound of your tired voice, Spencer tensed up slightly. Even in the low light of the room, he could see the sleep-filled haze in your eyes, and a little guilt tugged in the back of his mind. But the need for his drug was too strong to care about minor things like that.

“No,” He whispered back bluntly.

You clear the sleep from your throat as you edge yourself upright, dragging your knuckles over your eyelids. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes traced the tired way you wiped your eyes, only furthering his guilt. But again, the craving and the need for his internal torture to stop overpowered that feeling.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Spencer stated almost desperately, avoiding eye contact with you.

You exhale slowly.

“Spencer,”

He still refused to look at you, staring at his own trembling hands and scratching at the inside of his elbow.

With each second that passed, the need for a needle in his skin only grew stronger, and it was starting to become hard to keep resisting the urge.

“Look at me,” You tapp the side of his chin with your finger, a gentle gesture for him to turn his gaze towards you.

He slowly raised his gaze to your face, and you could clearly see how exhausted he was. Dark bags hung heavily under his eyes from lack of sleep, and his body was wracked with tremors from the withdrawal symptoms.

Seeing your sympathetic expression, his guilt only increased. It was like you knew exactly what he was going to say, and he didn’t know if that scared or embarrassed him more.

“I-,“ He started, his voice wavering. “I need-“

“Spencer,” You shake your head at him softly. “No…”

For a moment, he wanted to be angry, to scream and demand you understand his situation. But as he took in the weary yet sympathetic look on your face, a wave of shame passed over him.

“Please,” He whispered hoarsely, “I can’t do this. It hurts too much.”

“I know it hurts,” You rub your hand carefully down the curve of Spencer’s neck, settling it on his shoulder. “I know,”

He clenched his eyelids shut as your fingers began to massage his shoulders. It was almost enough to make him relax a bit.

Almost.

But that craving, and the pain, still clawed at the back of his mind, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore them.

“I need it,” He choked out, opening his eyes to once again gaze at you pleadingly. “Please, I just- I need it,”

The more he talked, the more desperate he began to sound, and he knew how pathetic he must look.

There’s a small pause as your eyes flicker over his expression.

“You remember why I offered you to stay here don’t you?”

He nodded tiredly, his head hung low in shameful understanding. You were trying to help him, and here he was begging you to let him do the one thing you’ve been trying hard to help him not give in to.

“Come on,” You let your hand fall from Spencer’s shoulder onto his leg, squeezing at his hand as it lies on top of his thigh. “Come with me,”

You groan tiredly as you climb out of the comfort of your bed, and Spencer hesitantly lets you guide him out of your room.

When it finally registers that you’re taking him to the kitchen, a flicker of pathetic hope blossoms in his chest, only for it to be immediately squashed down under the loss of your contact and the opening of your freezer.

It’s an ice tray that you pull out, cracking the plastic harshly against the edge of your kitchen counter to free the ice cubes from their confines and plucking one between your fingers, gesturing towards him.

He glances down at the ice cube, not really understanding why you’re giving it to him. But when he sees your expression, it clicks for him, and his eyes widen. He knew how withdrawal and drug addiction worked, so this trick wasn’t new to him. He just didn’t think you would be willing to do this for him.

He warily held out his arm to you, and even in the dim light of the moon outside, you could see the faint track marks that scarred his arm.

If you’re deterred by them you don’t show it, and you press the ice cube carefully against the bruises, dragging it over the tender skin.

“Do you want tea?

He winced slightly as the cold ice cube touched his arm, the sensation familiar yet foreign. He slowly shook his head at your question, not trusting his voice to answer you.

He stared down at the ice cube with a mixture of relief and shame. He was so far gone, to the point where the feeling of frozen water on his skin helped to calm the incessant itch of drug withdrawal.

“Hot milk then,”

He glanced up at you from under his flattened curls, slightly confused.

Hot… milk?

He’s confused for a minute, then it clicks. Hot milk. To help him sleep. Like a child.

It was embarrassing, really, but right now he was too tired to care.

So, he slowly nodded to you, watching as you busied yourself making him the warm milk. He was torn between looking ashamed that he’d even considered shooting up to have the easy out, and being grateful that you were willing to help him so calmly.

“Keep the ice going, Spencer,”

He quickly obeyed your instruction, bringing the ice cube back down to his forearm and slowly rubbing it over the faint scarring. It wasn’t the best, but it was better than nothing, and the cold soothed his itchy skin.

He stayed quiet as you made the hot milk, watching you carefully add a little bit of honey to help sweeten the drink. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you being so calm and unbothered by this whole situation felt so��� comforting.

After a few minutes, you returned to him, hot cup of honey milk in hand, and held it out to him. He couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment, a swirl of emotions playing through his tired mind. But he quickly squashed the swirling thoughts, taking the milk from your hands and slowly sipping the warm liquid.

“The change in temperature should shock your system,”

He hummed in acknowledgment as he took another sip of the warm milk, letting the heat of the beverage run down his throat.

He’s read about the method before, where suddenly increasing or decreasing the temperature of the body can help with withdrawal symptoms.

It was supposed to be paired with hot showers and ice baths, but he supposed ice cubes and hot milk worked too.

He quickly downed the rest of the milk, watching as you took the now-empty mug from his hands.

As the heat of the milk began to warm up his body, exhaustion really started to wash over him, and he could barely stop a yawn from escaping his lips.

He could see the slight upturn of your lips when you noticed he yawned, and felt the shame hit once again.

Here he was, a 24 year old man, and you were handling this situation like how someone would a child. But the tiredness made it impossible to care very much about how pathetic this all looked.

“Come on Spencer,” You press your hand gently between his shoulder blades, a prompt to get him moving. “Back to bed,”

His movements were sluggish as he let you steer him back towards the bedroom. It was like his body had suddenly hit a wall of exhaustion without warning.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured, stumbling slightly as you guided him into bed.

“Shhh, none of that, lie down,”

He tiredly did as you said, slumping down on the bed and letting his tired body sink into the sheets. As he closed his eyes, a wave of exhaustion washed over him, making it hard for him to think.

“Thank you,” He whispered quietly, his words a bit slurred by the sleep that was quickly catching up on him.

“That’s it, just rest now, Spencer,”

He mumbled incoherently as he nodded, already slipping into the haze of sleep. As he slowly drifted off, he faintly registered the feeling of your hand gently smoothing his hair from his face.

And just like that, he was asleep. His breath evened out into the deep pattern of his sleeping breaths, and he relaxed, not realising just how tired his body had become from the strain of his withdrawal.

[on-leatheredwings]

any hc for male reader x yandere batfam?? any of them will work. also the batboy didn't know he was bi at first (unless you're doing Tim). and the reader is dealing with internalized homophobia?

somethin short n sweet :]

Soft! Older! Yandere! Damian Wayne / Male Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: internalized homophobia, references to violent homophobia > word count: 723 > a/n: just something short and sweet... > male reader can be cis or trans

"Study with me," is what Damian Wayne says, before placing a pile of books on your already-crowded table.

His clean cut appearance contrasts with the hipster, rustic interior of your favorite cafe. It’s not really his scene, as far as you’re aware. Both the decor and the abundant crowd. 

You lean back in your chair, narrowing your eyes. "Wayne.” You have to try not to sneer.

You are acquainted with him, after all. His marks are always top of the class, and yours are always seconding. You’re at Gotham U entirely on scholarship, just having transferred from community college. You’re first in your family to go to college, period, and they were risking everything for you to be here. You had to be top of your class if you wanted to pursue your post-grad plans. 

Always being second to this nepo-baby billionaire is a bitter knock to your self-esteem. You wince, feeling sharp pain on your ribcage. One you don’t need with all the other bitter knocks your classmates already give you.

You stare up at the man, wishing he hadn’t caught you in your seat. You blink, realizing that he isn't moving. "Wait, what did you say?" you ask.

“... I said, 'study with me.'" He elegantly lands in the seat across from you at the all-too-small table. "I’ll be sitting here.”

You gape at him.

“But– y-you don’t even like me…?” Damian had never spared you the time of day until … this day. You assumed you were a gnat to him at best. Just some brokie who managed to sneak his way into his school.

How utterly wrong you were.

Damian Wayne hadn’t expected to end up with anyone other than a woman, he supposed. It had been assumed of him during his childhood and he hadn’t questioned it. From a young age he had been aware of homosexuality, and that men could be attractive, but he hadn’t considered it for himself in any serious capacity. 

Even Timothy coming out didn’t spur any curiosity from him. Despite his siblings teasing, his closeness to Jon was entirely platonic. So Damian just assumed, like the majority of the world, he was heterosexual. Until you had transferred into one of his classes and stole his breath away.

Damian’s eyes narrow and, if you can believe it, glimmer with interest. “I don’t recall ever saying that. For all you know, I could be quite fond of you.” His eyes lower to where your lips lie. “... Or at the very least, interested.”

You cheeks heat rise to your cheeks, before you flinch. There's no way. He didn’t mean it like that. Yet despite discerning his expression… Oh fuck, maybe he meant it like that? You panic, head snapping away from his. No– no. You are not going to be weird about this. You could have a friend here. 

The last time you misinterpreted friendliness from your peers as romantic advances... Those bruises are still healing, still aching when you stretch and bend. Your stomach roils with hurt, fear, and betrayal – no. You weren’t going to repeat the same mistake this time. You’ve been ostracized from most of your peers by now. ‘Pervert’ and ‘predator’ they named you. But maybe… you could have a friend here.

In your silence, Damian finds tendrils of curiosity churning in his stomach. He wants desperately to talk to you. To hear you speak. To listen to you talk at length about the lectures he finds so droll, but you find rapturing. Test scores meant nothing. He may be better at memorizing the text, but he’s read your essays. He clears his throat, lifting his chin on instinct to feign confidence.

You look up at him shyly, before realizing you’ve been mulling in silence like a freak for the past few minutes. Damian doesn’t mind, having been able to openly admire you.

You cough, trying to ease the confusion thrumming in your veins. “... Well, fine. I could use a sounding board.”

“Shall we start with the next test review?” Damian offers, flipping open a book.

You perk up, having been about to suggest lighter reading rather than the dense, metaphysical chapters your professor recommended. You nod fervently, lips curling to Damian’s delight.

“Yes, please,” you say, metaphorical tag wagging.

New friend, new friend, you inwardly cheer. 

Damian’s thoughts run considerably more romantic.

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (12) - In the Beginning

Chapter summary: Astarion meets up with Ava and it triggers something deep within him.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Mention of masturbation. Dissociative episode. Bloodlust.

Word count: 4.8k

Series Masterlist . Ao3

He should have known this would happen eventually. 

His love affair with the sun had reached an unavoidable end. Yet again. Luck had seldom ever been on his side, so this shouldn’t sting this much.

But it did.

His eyes darted to the half-moon window high up above through which scorching shafts of sunlight tore and lit up the dingy cellar.

Revulsion stirred within him and the flares of anger threatened to consume him whole.

The very same sun rays in which he had bathed for weeks were now a sore reminder of his true and inescapable nature.

He titled his head back against the wooden crate, his eyes fluttering shut in defeat as he sat on the cold floor.

Astarion had served his purpose and was now cast to live in the shadows once more, bound to his hunger and to all the inconveniences of being a vampire spawn.

The pain of being scorched by the sunlight had been revived in his mind after weeks of freely strolling around the Sword Coast in some impromptu quest to save Baldur’s Gate whilst having to deal with an inconvenient wriggling dweller inside his head.

But all the physical pain of being burnt mercilessly paled in comparison when his ears picked up approaching footsteps.

He knew who they belonged to.

The sound was carved into his mind like a dagger that wouldn’t budge.

You.

He winced as the squeaky door was pushed open. 

“Astarion?”

He gritted his teeth, silently praying you’d simply walk away and leave him to his misery. 

But his prayers had never been answered before, and that wasn’t about to change now, least of all when it concerned you.

In truth, he doubted any God above would be able to keep you from plaguing his thoughts.

“Astarion, I know you’re in here.”

Then leave.

He remained silent, eyes fluttered shut and an urge to be swallowed whole by the ground below.

Light and careful footsteps drew near and only came to a halt as a swift rush of air indicated to him that you were crouched in front of him.

Shit.

“Hello,” you said and he could hear the warm smile in your voice.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and he was sure that if he had a beating heart, it would most likely skip a few beats. Instead, he felt his stomach lurch as hunger simmered dangerously.

Your kind eyes met his and he craved nothing more than to have you be gone. 

From all the afflictions he was yet again a slave to, you were by far the most painful one.

“Did you come here to mock me?” he spat, the poisonous words leaving his mouth before he could hold back.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Mock you? Astarion–”

But he cut you off like a knife through flesh. “Spare me – I saw the way they laughed as my skin crumbled to ashes. So if you’ve come here to have your share, you can just leave.”

He was being unfair and he didn’t need your wavering smile as proof.

After all your travels together and his unrequited feelings towards you, he couldn’t fight his arrogance from surfacing.

But you never gave up on him – through deceit and manipulation, you were unmoving and relentless in your loyalty to him.

“I’ll have you know that I scolded all of them for doing so,” you said firmly. “It was uncalled for, especially after everything we’ve been through together.”

His jaw clenched harder and his eyes narrowed. 

Oh, he couldn’t stand it. That look on your face – pity. It immediately triggered a visceral reaction deep within him, and when he saw you reach out to him with your hand, he flinched away and recoiled against the crate behind him. 

“Don’t touch me.”

Your hand immediately stilled before dropping to your knee, and he saw a glint of sadness cross your eyes.

It wasn’t disgust or anger that caused him to utter such words.

He just knew your touch would ruin him and that he’d allow it.

“We can find a way to solve this,” you tried again with newfound determination. “We will find a way.”

He scoffed, averting his gaze.

Unfortunately, the laws of the worlds didn’t bend to the whims of lesser beings without compromise. 

And he soon realised what really bothered him was how vulnerable he felt – how exposed and weak he surely looked in your eyes.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Tainted.

Broken.

“Do you trust me?” 

He remained silent.

“Do you?”

Your insistence gnawed at his nerves, causing him to lock eyes with you again. 

“It goes beyond trust, darling. If walking in the sun again – or curing vampirism altogether – were that easy, I would not be here in the first place.”

Even through his snarky remark, you found a way to hold a smile and it immediately disarmed him. “Astarion, if there is anything our travels together have taught me is that we're quite good at turning the impossible into possible,” you said with conviction. “If there is a way to help you, we will find it.”

In another lifetime, he would have called you a foolish human who uttered big words without knowing their meaning.

But in this one, he did know you didn't extend promises lightly.

And if there was a sliver of hope he could cling to, he'd take it, especially now that Cazador was no longer around to compel him otherwise.

“Well, who's ‘we’, exactly?” he asked, easing himself against the crate.

Your face lightened up. “You and me, of course.”

The two of you. Just the two of you?

Oh, he liked the sound of that. Very, very much. 

His jaw slacked as hope kindled inside him, soaring dangerously high.

“Well, and Wyll – he's offered to help.”

Said hope plummeted back to the ground, shattering.

He scowled with a click of his tongue. “Did he, now? How chivalrous of him.”

You nodded. “I'm sure the others will come around, too.”

Astarion supposed this was a decent prospect, but almost grimaced when you extended your hand to him.

“Deal?”

He wanted to believe your relationship with him surpassed a mere friendship value, but he had grown tired of hoping for more.

Still, he would greedily take anything you would offer him.

Whether it was an indication that you craved more than friendship, or a simple handshake.

As such, he took your hand in his, revelling in the familiar warmth. “We have a deal, darling.”

Once he entered The Blushing Mermaid, it was evident that the presence of six Flaming Fists was not welcome at all.

Bork immediately asked for only two to stay inside as they were beginning to frighten the clientele.

But, much to his convenience, he immediately found who he was looking for, sitting in the furthermost corner of the lounge area.

Ava.

The plan was simple: try to get a confession from her – if applicable – but they would still be bringing her in for questioning as Rob Sorel, her lover, awaited her with Wyll.

A measured smile spread across her face as she noticed the fists behind him.

He slithered to her table with determined steps, aware that there was a possibility that this conversation would lead nowhere.

He slowly took the seat across from her, casually placing his twin daggers on the chipped table.

Ava's eyes dropped momentarily before meeting his again. “Oh, Astarion. Offering a silent warning with poison-coated blades? You needn't do that with me.”

Astarion's lips twitched upwards in silence.

He knew this dance better than most. He could read others quite efficiently when it came to sudden shifts in body language, and he had noticed Ava sitting straighter and her saccharine smile wavering all of a sudden.

And he had her right where he wanted her.

“You can't be too careful. Isn't that what some say?” he said, absentmindedly drumming his fingers along the handle of one dagger.

She took a sip from her cup before tilting it. “I'd order one for you, but I know this isn't your drink of choice – unless you brought her along for a sip, that is.”

Her taunt was enough to set him ablaze and the tip of his blade was immediately carved into the wooden table, earning a jolt from her.

“You do not get to goad me with her,” he snarled, gripping the handle so fiercely he might snap it in half. “She is off limits and you were delusional to even think you could bring her into this without consequences.”

Suddenly, her face twisted into a hard scowl and whatever traces of sweetness vanished. “I would not do anything with her without talking to you first.”

“You still offered her a deal, thereby roping her into something she is not to be a part of,” he retorted. “Her blood is off limits. She is off limits.”

Ava leaned back with a roll of her eyes. “Is this a case of you not wanting to share? Not even if that could be beneficial to you?”

His grip loosened slightly as his brows furrowed. “What is your point?”

She took another sip. “Her blood mixed with yours could be beneficial to my experiment and, thus, to you and even that massive horde of spawn in the Underdark.”

Of course Ava would want to play her cards right to keep him around.

It was a temptimg prospect, and he would never consider it at your expense.

He was no fool and you were no bargaining chip.

“I could never ask that of her. She stays out of this.”

She forced a yawn. “Have you forgotten your arrangement with her? Her blood for your good behaviour? Or does all sense of reason rush to your cock when you feed on her?”

Ava's words slashed through the air and he was momentarily taken aback.

The nature of your arrangement with him was vastly different. It wasn’t as simple as him being kept in line like some obedient pup. He could have turned the offer away and live exclusively off boars and deers – much to his horror.

The difference was… well, you.

Your unwillingness to let him go.

Your blood.

Your insistence on helping him keep his mind clear by allowing him to freely feed on the blood of a thinking creature.

And not just any thinking creature.

You.

His first.

The only blood he craved to the point of madness.

“Though, I can tell you haven't fed in a couple of days,” she went on with a dramatic pout. “A lover's quarrel, hmm?”

Oh, she was vicious.

This was the same woman who had shared a bed with him to ease him coming to terms with intimacy. For the most part, her simply being naked by his side hadn't helped much, but it seemed enough, and he was desperate to overcome the prison that his mind had become.

However, this was also the same woman who slayed her kin without hesitation.

She could go from being as kind and sweet to holding a stake to his chest.

Astarion felt a sense of dread wash over him as he realised he had greatly underestimated her.

Now, he needed to tread lightly.

The blade sunk deeper into the table as he leaned closer. “You wanted her blood in exchange for information.”

“Yet it is a far less selfish bargain than your arrangement with her, is it not?”

He ignored tar taunt. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know yet.”

He gritted his teeth. “Lies.”

Ava's face softened and he watched her slip into her usual overly sweet demeanour. “Astarion, we can be here all night hurling accusations and witty remarks at each other,” she said with a sigh. “Or we can approach this in a more sensitive manner.”

He didn't budge. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know who is after you,” she said. “Someone is, but I have yet to find out who.”

There was something in her tone that felt disingenuous. Almost as if she hadn't expected him to press her on this.

“Or there is no one at all besides you,” he said casually.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Me? And what would I gain from doing such a thing? Your blood is an integral part of this experiment. Locking you up in a prison cell would prove to be a nuisance.”

His patience was wearing thin.

“Darling, I've been around long enough to know people lie – you are a pristine liar, but a liar nonetheless.

In truth, he was merely bluffing in an attempt to spot any cracks in her story. He needed anything he could get from her.

And a part of him still hoped this was all a misunderstanding.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I can see what you are trying to do and it won't work.”

He thought as much. Still, he had to give it a try.

“What about Waterdeep?”

For the first time that night, Ava looked genuinely dumbfounded. “What about it?”

“No casual killings over there, hmm? In the past hours – accidental ones, perhaps?” he pressed.

She frowned deeply in response. “What are you accusing me of, exactly?”

“Someone was murdered and I am simply trying to rule you out as a suspect,” he said, feigning concern. 

“You overestimate my reach outside Baldur's Gate.”

He scoffed. “But not the reach of a certain patriar who so happens to be your lover.”

Ava's lips parted but she didn't utter a word.

“Rob Sorel has dealings in Waterdeep and knows which strings to pull to order a murder.”

She was visibly agitated, but he couldn't tell the cause. Was it the mention of a patriar? Or was he simply nearing the truth?

“Who was killed?”

It was all pointless.

A shame.

He merely turned in his seat and motioned for the two Fists at the door. Both immediately approached with the Mage Slayer right behind.

By this point, Astarion wasn't sure if Ava was even involved in this at all, but he couldn't take any risks. She would be taken in for questioning regardless of his judgement.

“Astarion?”

The room was immediately plunged into silence as multiple heads turned to watch the scene. From behind the counter he spotted Bork shaking his head in clear disapproval, visibly displeased with the ordeal.

“Astarion? What are you doing?”

His eyes met hers as he sheathed his daggers. “The right thing.”

He was known to do that from time to time, even against his better judgement.

She rushed to her feet, clawing at her dress in search of her own dagger. “Astarion!”

He could hear the rising panic in her voice, and he silently watched as the mage cast Hold Person on her before she could so much as blink.

She was instantly left petrified in place as the violet sign on the floor caged her in.

Gasps echoed around him and the two Fists promptly rushed to her side.

“We'll handle it from here,” one of them told him.

There was a part of him that vaguely wondered if this was the correct approach. 

A part of him that hoped for Ava not to be involved in any of it.

And then, from across the room, he saw you.

He blinked twice, thinking his eyes betrayed him, but there you were, standing by the door with a Fist at your side, staring back into his crimson eyes.

And it was as if he had been mentally slapped.

Ava had dared to involve you.

You.

And it had been his fault.

The unruly and dense crowd in the room wasn't enough to contain him from darting hurriedly to meet you.

Annoyance hit him first and it was woven into his words once he was in front of you, gripping your forearm. “Why are you here? I told you to let me handle this.”

You immediately yanked free with narrowed eyes. “I wasn't trying to interfere. But this idiot,” you said, pointing to the Fist who merely shrugged, “pushed me inside and – wait! How did it go with her?”

Astarion caught hold of your shoulders, pulling you to the side as Ava was carried away through the door.

As soon as it closed behind them, the fanfare commenced once more in between heated whispers and glares from those around the two of you.

“Marvellous as you can see,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “She didn't confess to anything, and I had limited time.”

You pushed the door open once again and he promptly followed you outside, until he felt a hard shove from someone's hand.

“Move, spawn.”

He glanced over his shoulder only to see a frowning Fist right behind.

“We are not cattle to be ordered around,” he spat, adjusting his vest. “Honestly, Wyll ought to have you all stand trial for severe lack of manners.”

“It's Duke Ravengard to you,” the Fist growled, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Astarion clicked his tongue humorously. “It's Wyll to me and Duke Ravengard to you, Fist.”

Before tensions could escalate any further, you were already tugging at his sleeve, and dragging him across the wooden pier.

Just as the Fist opened his mouth, a myriad of clashing and banging sounds were heard from inside and he turned to open the door.

Probably a tavern brawl.

What fun!

Seconds later, the armoured man was toppled to the ground as the door burst open with people yelling profanities and slinging fists at each other.

“I'll kill ya! WHERE IS MY CHICKEN, YOU OAF?” a drunkard missing most of his teeth yelled, holding a frying pan in his hand.

“YOU ATE IT, YOU IMBECILE!” said another, stepping on the fallen Fist and nearly losing his balance.

Behind them, Astarion spotted several items being tossed whilst Bork's voice begged for order.

He almost clicked his tongue.

Tavern brawls were too much fun and he always adored adding fuel to the fire by standing on the side and instigating these drunkard fools.

But a quick glance at you and he could tell you wouldn't approve of such activity, so he remained at your side.

The other two Fists that were standing guard nearby, clumsily rushed to the entrance.

“Go call for backup!”

The youngest nodded and nearly bumped into Astarion as he tried to keep his helmet steady.

“Oh! Do not leave! Do not move!”

Astarion immediately raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Right. Thank you!”

Idiot.

Surprisingly, you hadn't let go of his sleeve and your hand moved to his wrist, pulling him to cross the road until you reached the metal balustrade that allowed a privileged view over the Grey Harbour Docks.

It was far away from the chaos that had erupted, but not quite far that would potentially get you into trouble.

Although… “Maybe we should leave.”

Astarion arched an eyebrow at you. “And going against the voice of authority?”

Your face dropped and he fought the urge to pinch your cheek teasingly.

You were so easy to rile up.

“You scheming little delinquent, you,” he said with a devious smile and a chuckle. “I'm all for acts of rebellion, but we ought to stay nearby this time.”

“Do you think we should go help them out?” you asked, glancing over at the rising commotion nearby.

The two of you exchanged looks before shrugging.

“No. They can fend for themselves,” you said, leaning over the fence, eyes set on the lulling sea that spread vastly into the distance.

“Actually, they're quite incompetent, but I don't feel like creasing my shirt,” he said with an annoyed click of his tongue, inspecting his sleeves as he joined you. “Let them fight off the drunkards. We get to collect the scattered coins on the floor afterwards.”

You shot him a curious look. “You do that?”

“Well, obviously? I put the gold to good use, at least.”

“Embroidery?”

That tugged a genuine smile from him and he caught himself staring at you under the moonlight.

Gods.

He would never tire of admiring your beauty and how it was almost embarrassingly too easy for him to get lost in your eyes.

It also didn't help that he hadn't fed in a few days.

Bloodlust clouded his mind and made his insides turn.

It was the soft sound of your voice that snapped him from his thoughts. “What now? I mean… Ava.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, they are to interrogate Rob Sorel and see how both their stories hold up.”

You heaved a deep sigh. “So we wait.”

“We wait.”

Astarion had grown used to the silence that would often settle around the two of you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was the kind that he had never experienced before.

He wasn't sure there was a name for it, but he knew the feeling attached to it all too well.

The silhouette of passing ships on the horizon, dancing along the calm waters added to the overall soothing atmosphere.

He could stay a while longer like this.

With you.

His eyes eventually darted to the side and he nearly jolted when your head turned to him, as if you had felt his burning gaze.

“You can feed on me once we get home.”

He wanted that.

He needed it.

He craved it.

But… “I can do without your blood for a while longer, darling.”

A white lie.

He could feel his mind spotting and blanking at times already, especially when near you. Maybe he had gotten too addicted to feeding on you to the point his body could no longer go extended periods of time without blood.

Your blood.

And as much as he appreciated your offer, he needed to withstand his hunger.

Ava's words echoed in his mind and he almost felt repulsed from having allowed himself to be so dependent on you and putting you through it in the first place.

“Are you alright?” you asked, visibly worried.

“Yes – of course, darling,” he forced a smile to curl his lips.

Your hand came to rest on his forearm. “Astarion, you can feed on me. I mean it.”

His eyes dropped to your neck, the symmetrical puncture wounds still visible from when he had last bitten you.

Hunger swelled to the point of agony and he could almost smell your blood and feel it coursing through your hand.

You gave him a reassuring nod, which only made it harder for him to resist the urge to give in.

“I should go hunt, actually,” he eventually managed to say and his words felt like ash in his mouth.

You chuckled slightly, squeezing his arm. “You'd probably have to bring a Fist with you.”

He grimaced, but appreciated your attempt at diffusing the tension. “They would end up being the ones hunted by some beast in the woods, and I would have to step in and save the godsdamned idiot.”

Your eyes widened and then you laughed.

Hard.

And it was the most comforting sound he had ever heard in a long while.

It was enough to steer the bloodlust away and he laughed with you.

“It reminds me of the first time you fed on me,” you said, wiping off the teardrops that had formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing. “Remember? When you drifted off into the woods to hunt for something more ‘filing’?”

Oh.

Shit.

His smile wavered and you immediately caught on to the sudden shift.

“What?”

He thought he had told you what truly happened that night….

…. he hadn't?

“Well… I…” his words failed him and as he pondered how he should approach the topic.

Concern suddenly splattered across your face. “What is it? 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I didn't exactly go hunting,” he said with a tense chuckle.

You remained silent, waiting for him to go on.

“I just had to get away from you… to… uhm, well – take care of a little problem that stirred whilst I fed on you, if you catch my meaning.”

He allowed the implication to dangle from his words, and it wasn't a particularly subtle one.

And then your eyes widened once more in sudden realisation.

“Oh… it makes sense,” you said all flustered, withdrawing your hand from his arm. “You did say my blood feels really good.”

‘Good’ was an unfair understatement.

It always felt divine.

“Don't misunderstand,” he quickly added. “It was totally out of my control. I was quite surprised when I realised just how…” hard he had gotten.

“Just how…?”

“Just how much your blood affected me.”

He could remember it clearly in his head.

How desperate he was to slip into the woods and find a secluded place so he could see just how much of a mess his trousers were.

He could feel it, obviously, but he wouldn't know the extent of the ‘'damage’ until he undid his trousers.

“Did you… get…. really hard?” you drawled out in a hushed tone as if scared someone other than him might overhear you.

Astarion figured this was the last topic he expected to be addressing given that the background noise consisted of screams and threats and loud noises and glass smashing.

Hardly the right ambience.

“Yes.”

He could almost remember the feel of the bark of the tree digging into his back as he hurriedly undid the lacing at the front until he was able to free his cock.

“And what did you do?”

Were these merely questions that stemmed from curiosity or were you trying to stir something else…?

“Well…” he started, “you can't expect me to reveal such things aloud.”

He watched you swallow hard as you nodded. “You can say in my ear, then? If you want to, of course,” you quickly added.

You were too adorable and he was in dire need of a distraction from his bloodlust.

This would suffice.

He leaned closer, and pressed a kiss to your heated cheek before his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I had to take care of it.”

You shuddered.

His cock had never been as hard and as thick before he had fed on you. It had made him utterly speechless to see all the precum dripping from the tip.

He had been almost too scared to even touch it.

But when he did….

The groan that had erupted from his throat had been too difficult to rein in. His cock had felt warm and it had throbbed from your blood coursing through it, giving it a faint pink tint to it.

“In the woods?” you asked, gripping the railing with both hands.

“Yes.”

He could hear the faint beating of your heart increasing. “What if someone had run into you?”

His cock twitched.

Innocent, little pup…

“Why, darling… did you want to run into me,” he lowered his voice as his lips brushed against your ear, "and witness my despair as I touched myself?”

You gasped.

Despair didn't quite cover it. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever felt like he'd implode lest he reached climax.

It was a novelty and he had felt… alive. 

He had heard of how delectable the blood of thinking creatures could be, but he had never anticipated this feeling of fullness and how addictive it could be.

“It was so warm… from your blood, sweetheart,” he purred, feeling himself getting carried away.

You bit your quivering lip before replying, “Did it feel good?”

Maybe too carried away.

And when you shuddered again under his faint touch, it was as if he had been slapped back into another plane of existence.

He suddenly straightened himself and blinked.

What was he doing?

His abrupt change in demeanour was enough to earn a reaction from you, and he could see lust in your half-hooded eyes as you stared at him in confusion.

And just like a tidal wave that one couldn't hold back, he felt disgust and revulsion lacing themselves into a powerful mixture that caused him to take a step back.

His mind was flooded with Ava's accusatory words and the memories of him seducing you for his own benefit.

“Astarion?”

Your voice was miles away and he couldn't even bring himself to blink anymore.

The nauseating feeling was heightened by the fact that he had a very inconvenient erection strained against his trousers, begging for attention.

“Astarion… what is it?” 

Your voice seemed even more distant than before, as if he had been plunged into a well and couldn't get out.

Why couldn't he get out?

Why was his cock so hard, but his mind so repulsed by it?

And the impending feeling of dread began to slowly overtake him like storm clouds rolling over the mountains, bent on flooding the land below.

And when it began to rain in his mind, it poured.

He needed to get away.

He needed to get away from you.

You tried reaching out to him with your hand, but he flinched away. “Don't touch me!”

And he could see it in your eyes.

Pity.

Again.

“I – I must go.”

And he didn't look back.

TBC

[extremely-judgemental]

Long Post

Every time I see the ‘let my girl be happy’ tag and the post is about canon Nessian, it infuriates me as much as it breaks my heart. Sometimes I wonder if those who romanticise Cassian’s toxic behaviours are speaking from a place of privilege or ignorance, because admitting that calls for addressing real-life abuse and misogyny they are forced to endure.

I’m an Indian living in a highly patriarchal, misogynistic society where women are still required to marry someone out of convenience for the sake of their families. This is not the cute arranged marriages you read about in books or watch in movies. Most women have to sacrifice everything they stand for to ease their families’ burdens. And let’s not even start with dowry or DV. Sure, our society has progressed in many ways, yet, this is the reality of most women when it comes to marriages. No matter how well-off you are, no matter how successful you are in your career. It’s more nuanced than you imagine; parents meddle with children’s lives at every step, and our lives are more intertwined with our families than in western society. So I simply can’t read Nesta’s story and delude myself into thinking she got a happy ending with Cassian or the Inner Circle. I keep my emotions out of most of the criticisms to help people see the situation objectively. That’s hard to do in this case, but I’ll try.

Nesta is the eldest child who ‘fails’ her sisters, though it is her father’s responsibility to care for three young girls. Having been groomed to be a housewife all her life, she contributes in the only way she knows—by doing the chores and nurturing her family. She seeks help from relatives and friends, while the ones in position to do so ignore her. And when the time comes, she finds a way to be of use to her family by marrying Tomas. Despite all this, Nesta is considered a failure of a sister, simply because Feyre made a choice. Most of these only come to light in Silver Flames, and even the few instances where Feyre realises this, there’s no real appreciation for Nesta’s efforts. Instead, they are dismissed or only mentioned to highlight Feyre’s empathic tendencies and her awareness of her sisters’ plights, rather than uplifting Nesta’s character. None of these are acknowledged as they don’t fit the typical masculine ideals glorified throughout the series.

As Nesta navigates her life as a newly transformed fae, she partakes in a war in which she has no part in. She has no obligation or need to risk her life for the Night Court, or any other court, or even the mortals. These are the same acts that made Feyre a hero in the first book. But when it comes to Nesta, and she rises to the occasion, her actions are downplayed as she grapples with PTSD from her death, the Cauldron, the toll of war, and her father’s death. None of her sacrifices or her attempts to protect her sisters are given an ounce of importance or respect they deserve. Instead, it’s framed as Nesta’s duty as the eldest sister or the sister of the Night Court’s High Lady.

When she deals with her trauma, everyone takes great pleasure in controlling how the situation unfolds. She goes as far as living alone to spare her sisters. Yet Feyre and Elain, who have the choice of when and how to regulate their emotions, fail to grasp the concept of personal space. Her actions are self-sabotaging at best and have no real consequences on any of the other characters. Still, they are amplified to an extent that it’s turned into a court affair. The reason for this is Nesta isn’t coping in the right way. Gambling, drinking and sex—common activities for the Inner Circle—become a question of their reputation the moment she engages in them in her pain, emphasising that these are only acceptable when done with them. Spending Feyre’s money on gambling may seem like a reasonable cause for Rhysand to interfere, but if we factor in how Nesta’s rightful wealth from Tamlin or her father was lost as a direct consequence of Inner Circle’s actions, along with the fact that she is still owed money for her contribution in the war, Nesta is deliberately stripped of any monetary agency to trap her.

If this isn’t punishment enough, she is locked in an inescapable tower with a man she wants no part of. When she objects to this, she is lied to about their laws and threatened being thrown among people who will consider her a threat. She has no interest in training to fight or working for the Night Court, but she’s forced to. She’s not compensated for any of this labour either. Nesta is known to starve herself after the war to the point that she’s nothing but ‘skin and bones’. Cassian, an established gym bro in the series, weaponises food against her when she refuses to eat what is offered or when. The moment she shows any interest in eating, he judges her for being picky and brings up her latent guilt that led her down that path in the first place. Later on, knowing she’s not fit enough, the Inner Circle insists on training her right away, in freezing conditions, without proper clothing. Nesta soon learns that she has no choice but to comply. She goes on to train with Cassian, work in the library, and accept the food the house gives her. This is the first step in breaking her.

Nesta has no one to rely on or talk to in the house except for Cassian. The relationship that develops between them is not circumstantial but a well-orchestrated one. Even for small talk, Cassian is her only choice. After learning Nesta was SA’d by the kelpie and on the verge of death, no one (including her sisters) cares for her as much as they should. The only person who checks on her is Cassian, and even he is so overcome with desire and lust that he has sex with her instead of comforting her. It is common knowledge that sex is a coping mechanism for her and that she has been SA’d twice—something only Cassian knows. This perpetuates the idea that even when a woman is hurting and in pain, she must be appealing, and her trauma should be sexually gratifying and desirable for the man. A woman can walk back from the doors of death, but she must look pretty while doing it. There is nothing empowering about that.

Then, there is Eris’s seduction. Feyre looks down on Nesta for contemplating selling her body to take care of her sisters. But the same is expected of her when she serves the Night Court. It is almost glorified and revered by Cassian himself. During their conversation in River House, he lets her believe that she has to earn both his love and her sisters’. Not once does he contradict any of her fears or insecurities. For the first time, Nesta has sex with him without it being an escape, and the next morning, Cassian abandons her, reinforcing the idea that she indeed earned the sex and love for what she did in Court of Nightmares.

When Nesta reveals the truth about Feyre’s pregnancy, her true feelings are swept under the rug by how she ‘failed’ her sister again. She has the right to expose Rhysand and his plans. Even if the situation isn’t the most ideal, she is locked in a tower and only talks to anyone when the IC choose, which limits her options. Besides, when will the timing ever be perfect for such a conversation? She is again vilified for being the only one honest with her sister. Her intentions are twisted to cover up others’ mistakes. Cassian, once again, is the one who punishes her for it.

At this point, Nesta is suicidal, and Cassian recognises the signs. He still insists on taking the hike, also using the silent treatment to enforce the idea that she is in the wrong. His interactions with Feyre prove none of them dwell on Nesta’s actions as much as she believes. While she is having a guilt trip, edging her closer to suicide, Cassian laughs behind her back with Feyre, almost enjoying her fears. At the end of this trip, Nesta finally opens up about her trauma for the first time, and Cassian swoops in with his own sorrows and how he overcame them. Instead of making her feel seen and heard, she is once again lectured on what she should do and how.

Lastly, Cassian and Morrigan have a mildly, if not completely, inappropriate relationship that Nesta is expected to accept. If she expresses jealousy or anger, it’s not because of the bond or their relationship, but will be seen as her inherent quality. She can’t fight it as everyone else has accepted it as a normal relationship. If she shows any displeasure, her past of sleeping with other men will be brought into the conversation, and she will be scrutinised. This is very similar to the ‘men will be men’ narrative—the man can flirt with whoever he wants, and it’s harmless, but the woman has to behave.

Throughout the series, everyone is against Nesta. Her family is her responsibility. She has a duty to protect and serve them, no matter the circumstances, no matter how much it costs her or how much pain she is in. Her own sisters side with her in-laws, saying it’s how things are and she ‘doesn’t have to be so miserable’. Her life is forever bound to a man she initially wanted nothing to do with and her everyday existence is dependent on him. She is trapped with him until she learns to accept her fate. He doesn’t lay a hand on her, but he psychologically and emotionally abuses her until she complies with his family and behaves to fit their image. He even gives her the silent treatment, withdraws sex/intimacy from her, leaves her alone in the tower, cuts her off from everyone she loves and cares about if she misbehaves. She has no financial independence, leaving her at the mercy of her sister and her family. Even when she’s hurting, she has no choice but to risk her life for them or go to war when they demand. She goes as far as changing her body for her future child. Her life is threatened by her in-laws, but no one bats an eye at that, forever leaving her fearing for her safety.

If you believe it’s just fiction and that all this is exaggeration of something in a fantasy book, you really need to look around you. This is a real nightmare for most women around the world. Your girl, Nesta, isn’t happy. She settled. She has accepted a life in which she is treated less than a dog and used as a weapon. She’s been beaten down until she learnt not to step out of line if she wants to live. She is still with Cassian because she doesn’t see a life other than that as an option and has come to accept whatever scraps her sister and her family have decided to throw her way. And I sincerely hope that if you ever come across a real-life Rhysand or Cassian, you have the wits to protect yourself and run the other way.

[starlightazriel]

bee 9

series desc: modern best friends > lovers (fem reader) tattoo artist az

warnings: 18+, az acting crazy and toxic haha, arguing/angst, just the beginning of the groveling, simp behavior hahaha, drug/alcohol addiction, reader struggling, heart break, time jumps, aa, depression mess, az is literally falling apart at the seams, don't expect good decisions from reader lol she's hurting that's all ima say

a/n: wow I know I ain't shit this took me so long I'm sorry angst central too ik

wc: 3.8k

other parts can be found on my az masterlist <3

nine

"Say the word Bee, I'll knock on his door and knock him out." His jaw was tight, eyes dark with the desire to inflict pain. Real pain, sometimes that side of Azriel scared me, these days it would only make my panties wet.

"Im fine Az," I wiped tears from my face with the back of my sleeve, my chest tightened slightly at his willingness to put himself at risk for my naivety. "Hes not worth it anyway," I added, trying desperately to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Well that youre right about. Tried to tell you he didnt deserve you," he pauses, his face looking displeased. There's a moment of silence and it made me wish I had the courage to fill it with my feelings for him. "Please stop looking so sad though. Bings will help," he smirks, trying the only way he knew how to lighten the mood, he held up his bong, already freshly packed. I sighed softly, letting a small smile tug at the corner of my lips despite the ache I felt in my chest.

"Yeah they might," I smirk a little bit, and take the bong from him, taking one of my little baby hits, I shove the bong back in his direction, coughing obnoxiously despite the small hit. Normally he would make fun of me, I figured he was sparing me the embarrassment in light of the current situation.

"I can kick his ass," he repeats and I just shake my head at him. I didn't doubt it either— when it came to me, Az didn't have any limits. He would go down swinging for me, no matter who it was.

Thinking back on that memory... It made me feel sick, that now he was the one to hurt me.

I had made the mistake of trusting Azriel too much. I knew better. I knew he wasn't ready for this and still I let myself live in some little fantasy world for weeks. And now... Now I was dealing with the consequences.

My heart was shattered.

Incomparable to my insignificant couple of break ups in the past... This was so much worse.

Az... My Az. Maybe not my Az after all.

He clearly couldn't even handle a relationship.

Or maybe... The alternative made my stomach sink.

Maybe he knew the entire time that he was moving and he was just passing the time until he did? Az wouldn't do that... Would he?

You can know someone forever... As soon as there are drugs involved... Well, nothing is guaranteed.

It seemed to be just as hard for me to admit that he had a problem than it was for him. I hated it, but this pain— it made me see things more clearly, see him more clearly.

I couldn't bring myself to block him. I did have to turn my phone off for a while because not picking up was just becoming hard. 39 missed face time calls, 12 missed regular calls, and a handful of text messages that I was leaving on read.

baby please just talk to me

i'm so sorry shit was so fucking stupid

please come home

bee i swear i'll come over there and drag you out of that house by your hair

you know i didnt mean that

im sorry

i need you bee, don't shut me out

just talk to me

i'll stop drinking so much i'll do whatever please just fucking talk to me

cass is a fucking idiot nothing happened i swear baby i didn't fuck anyone.

The messages were spaced out minutes between some, hours between others. I couldn't help myself when I typed out a reply to the last one.

how do you know you didn't fuck anyone? do you even remember? You were getting your fucking grind on with a random ass bottle girl. or maybe she wasn't random lol who fucking knows with you. and you had your face in tits Az. Tits. WERE TOUCHING YOUR CHEEKS. AND YOU WERE SMILING LIKE YOU LOVED EVERY FUCKING SECOND. AND I BET YOU DID CUS YOU LOOKED HIGH OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND.

It was only seconds before he read it and was typing.

i didn't fuck anyone. i only want you. i'm just a dumbass. bro please do not do this shit to me. i will do ANYTHING to make this up to you that's on literally everything.

And another one.

you don't have a choice anyway and i swear if i catch you outside with any of these mother fuckers yo youre both done

And another.

its not a threat its a warning don't play with me

I groaned in frustration and tossed my phone to the side. It was all so... Exhausting. My chest quite literally hurt. And the audacity, please don't do this to him?

He did this to us.

And why the fuck did he think he owned me? I hated that it made my heart flutter— bottle girls, titties, Vegas. I reminded myself.

Sick.

I had confessed everything to my mom the first day I had came back to my parents house, which in hindsight I wished I hadn't. Knowing me... I would be back in Azriels bed within days of being back, my cheeks burned at the thought. No matter what he did, it didn't change the way I now knew how he could make me feel.

She had always loved Az, since day one... He had practically been a part of our family at one point, joining our family dinners every night, even my dad and him had a certain respect for each other. 'Some people are just better off as friends,' was my mom's response to the whole ordeal. Maybe she was right, but I didn't like it, not now.

How could we go back to that?

Was it possible to go back to that?

-

The stress, the heaviness of my heart... I couldn't stop myself from swiping a cig from my dad's secret stash in the garage. I was now sat on the rocking chair on my parent's front porch, debating on what I was going to do when I returned home. I had to go soon, it had already been weeks now I was starting to dip into my old wardrobe.

I had been commuting to class even though it was much farther than Azriel's apartment. I just didn't know what to say when I saw him. I didn't even know how to bring up the fact that I knew he was moving. Did he plan on telling me? What had been his plan for my living situation if he didnt have the apartment anymore? Had he even thought about it?

"So you're smoking now?" his voice causes me to jump, my heart nearly leaping from my chest as my head snaps to Azriel who's standing there, one hand shoved in his pocket other hand gripping a small bouquet of flowers. Scarred fingers against delicate stems, my cheeks turned pink remembering what he had done to me with those fingers. That feeling soon turned to anger remembering what he else he had done, he's frozen now, maybe half way up the stone path leading to my parents front door.

"Jesus Az what the fuck?" I breathed out, exhaling a shaky breath, my tone laced with a venom I had never used with him before. "You scared the fuck out of me, what are you even doing here?"

"You know what I'm doing here," his voice is soft but slightly strained, my stomach twists at the pain I can feel, radiating off of him. I didnt know how he did that, he was always able to change the air around me— like I was so hyper aware of him that I could sense his feelings.

"Az-"

"I love you," he cuts me off, my breath hitches, his cheeks are slightly pink, hand still shoved into his pocket. I set the burning cigarette down on the can beside me, I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

So long.

I had waited to hear those words for so fucking long. And now, here, under these circumstances— it didnt feel how I imagined it would. It didnt feel how it was supposed to.

"I love you too Azriel you know I do but I-"

"But what? You dont want me because Im so fucked up right?" His voice drops slightly, his throat bobbing and I noticed his grip tighten on the bouquet in his hand. His face was soft— pained, and my heart cracked again, remembering that boy so many years ago bruised and bloody with that same heartbroken face of betrayal, and now I had done that to him. "Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry please—"

"I didn't say that," I mumbled, my heart felt like it was bleeding in my chest, like there would be nothing left once he walked away. He didn't dare to step closer. "I just- I need some time Az," I mumbled softly and he closed his eyes for a minute before tugging at his hair, huffing out a frustrated breath. He looked like he would get down on his knees for me, like he would beg me if I asked him to.

"I know what that means Bee," he huffs out another small breath, his face slowly contorting into that hard cold stare I knew him to hide behind. "Anyway," he breaths out, looking away from me. "I'm going to change your mind, we—" he struggles again before giving up, I could see his eyes were bloodshot as he got closer, dark circles prominently underlining them. "Here," he finally says, he shoves the bouquet in my hand, there was an envelope taped to the side of it with my name on it.

"I'm coming home soon Az," I mumble, though, I didn't even know if I was ready for the conversation the two of us would be having. "I told you we could talk then," I add and he sighs, stepping back off of the porch.

"I'll see you soon then," he muttered softly and just shrugged his shoulders, I could tell he wanted to run to me... He wanted to wrap me in his arms and kiss me. He wanted to strangle me also— I could see that too, that deep rooted need for control, to make me see things his way. I couldn't blame him— it stemmed from years of physical abuse, traumas I would never truly be able to understand.

"Go home Az. Goodnight, thank you, for the flowers," is the last thing I say before walking back inside shutting the door behind me, in his face. I didnt watch him walk away, that short conversation had been painful enough. I put the flowers in some water and tore open the mini envelope despite how angry I was with him.... Seeing him, made me crave him so much more.

'I could lose every single thing I have in this world but I can't lose you. I miss you. Please stop shutting me out. I can't take much more of this Bee.'

His handwriting was rushed— desperate messy scrawl, guilt twisted in my gut. I couldn't help it... I had nothing to feel guilty about and yet... Imagining him alone, needing me, missing me... Enough to buy flowers and scribble out a little note. More than I'd ever seen him do for any other woman.

I couldn't fall for it.

My chest tightened and tears welled up in my eyes. Why did he have to fuck everything up? It had been so perfect. Leave it to a fucking man to ruin everything.

-

Azriel swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he stared blankly in front of him at all of the faces looking back at him. His palms were sweaty, ears hot with embarrassment and he couldn't stop tapping his foot. He had opted not to get up and stand at the front, feeling much more secure in his seat toward the back of the room.

"Hi, uh, my name is Azriel, I'm twenty five, and Im um— Im an alcoholic," it was the first time he'd ever said it out loud, it tasted horrible on his tongue. "I've um I've been addicted to drinking alcohol probably for about ten years- Got me into other- shit and I'm here today because I fell in love with my best friend and um- I don't want to lose her. Never tried to quit drinking before— never really believed I had a problem but— yeah, here I am," his voice had gotten quieter as he finished and he realized he was rambling. His cheeks burned, he hated all the eyes on him, hated that he was the center of attention. And he was craving a line, bad.

His introduction was followed by many 'Hi Azriels,' which only made him feel more uncomfortable. They tried to make him feel welcome, tried to relate to him— get him to open up. He thought he might explode but he listened though. He listened to each and every persons story that shared. And when it was over the leader gave him a small white chip, service, unity, recovery. A pledge to a new beginning, toward sobriety.

He sighed and shoved it into his pocket, he was sitting on the step now, to go coffee cup in his hand, black obviously. Isn't that what recovering alcoholics did? Drink black coffee and smoke cigarettes?

"Can I bum one?" a male voice asks and next thing he knows he's sitting down next to him, he was a bit older, maybe 40.

"Sure," he mutters and pulls a cigarette from the pack and extends it to him, he recognized him from inside the meeting.

"It's Max, if you didn't catch it in there."

"Azriel," he mumbles, looking straight ahead at the cars passing by. He didn't know how to feel. He didn't want to get sober. But he needed Bee. He couldn't lose her, after getting a taste? He couldn't handle not having her again. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You need a sponsor?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, Azriel shrugs, the new sobriety coin felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. The anxiousness... The insatiable desire to rid himself of any of his uncomfortable feelings by doing a line and buying a bottle... How the hell was he supposed to stay sane?

"You going to be my sponsor?"

"First things first, don't wear a cocaine vile around your neck to an AA meeting."

-

I was quiet, careful when I slowly pushed open the door to Azriels apartment, my apartment too, I guess. Not for long.

It didn't feel like home anymore— the sickening feeling that twisted in my gut as I took a step inside. It was quiet, he wasn't home... Fucking filthy. There was pizza boxes and take out containers, ash everywhere, multiple ash trays made from various things, there were unfinished cigs and blunts everywhere that made it smell awfully of cigarettes and stale weed. Cocaine residue and half crushed pills were out on the coffee table like it was normal. I swallowed thickly, a soft breath leaving my lips I knew I shouldn't feel guilty, shouldn't feel bad that he obviously wasn't okay... But I did, I just left him. Never, never had I ever done that to Azriel. I was the one constant in his life, the one person who was always there. Ever since that day in front of my house all those years ago.

Titties, bottle girls, moving to Vegas. I reminded myself, my stomach turned again. So angry. Fucking idiot.

I entered the kitchen for a glass of water, needing something to calm that sick feeling. The bile that rose in my throat that felt like I was about to hurl everything I ate for the past three days. I thought better of it quickly, before I consumed anything from this rancid kitchen I would need to deep clean and disinfect.

Dirty dishes in the sink, the dishwasher hanging open half loaded still with clean dishes like he had just been taking them from there and hadn't bothered to put anything away, empty liquor bottles overflowing from the small recycling bin, more take out containers, a bong tipped over, the foul smelling water from it still dripping off of the counter, a small puddle of brownish water collected on the white tile.

What the fuck?

My room was the only room that didnt smell like bong water and cigarettes, but still, he had been in here. Maybe even slept in here. Papers covered the floor, not just papers but drawings. There were drawings of me everywhere. Just me, me naked, him and I together, kissing, fucking, our hands intertwined— there were even drawings of us when we were younger. A little messy, like he had been pressing down so hard— drawing with such emotion that he kept breaking his utensil of choice that day.

I let out a soft sob, my hand flying to cover my mouth.

Fuck.

Kat. I needed Kat.

I tried to swallow the growing lump in my throat again and pulled my phone out to check her location. Of course she was at the shop.

-

"Hey," the bells chime softly as I walk into the shop, there was no one in the waiting room besides Kat and she looked up from her phone, our eyes locking.

"Heyyy baby," she greets, flashing me a smile that soon turns into a frown, her eyebrows drawing together. "Are you good?"

"No," I loosed a shaky breath, advancing to the counter, I leaned against it like I had so many times, but my chest was fucking aching. It was so fucking infuriating that nothing felt the same, nowhere felt the same. I guessed this was what heart break really felt like, seeing the world in every color one day and then black and white the next. "Is he here?" I dropped my voice lower, playing with one of the knick knacks on the desk to distract myself.

"No, he left a while ago, didnt say where he was going," she's still frowning, the worried look still plastered on her face.

"The house Kat?" I paused, making a face. "It's fucking disgusting, I don't understand how hes living like that," my harsh words could have only been brought on by anger, she softens, her look turning more sympathetic which annoys me only, I ignore it.

"He hasn't been the best at work either— snapping on everyone, late every day and fucked up," she lets out a small sigh, "Rhys is fucking pissed," she pulls her lip between her teeth.

"Fuck Rhys, honestly," I mutter quietly, she raises an eyebrow in response but I only ignore it. Of course, none of this was his fault, but still Vegas. Why fucking Vegas? "It's my turn to get fucked up, anyway, that's why I'm here I bought a bottle to pregame, just needed my bitch and one of her miniskirts," my words are met with a grin.

"Babes you know I got you."

-

I hadn't been drunk in a while, so to say the least I was enjoying myself. The pounding of the music, talking to strangers, dancing with Kat. I had needed all of this.

To slip out of my mind for a few hours and just let go.

Kat was definitely enjoying herself now too, and was dancing with some tall sexy man she had just met. I was keeping to myself for the most part, on the edge of the dance floor, swaying my hips to the music as I surveyed the scene with a fuzzy mind.

My mouth popped open in slight surprise and when I felt curiosity instead of the desire to leave immediately, I knew I had drank too much. There was Eris, in all his jewelry and expensive clothes, looking poised and composed as always. Long pale ringed fingers wrapped around a glass of amber liquid. I hadn't seen him since the night we shared.

"You ghosted me princess."

"I had other things going on— and I didnt finish," I smile boredly, not meeting his gaze, it must have been the liquor making me so bold, he scoffs slightly his eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Let me buy you a drink then, to make up for it, must have been an off day for me," he inquires, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction that my body was basically broken with anyone except for Azriel, I would let him believe it was his fault. His ego could be taken down a peg, anyway.

"I have one already," I raise it up slightly, smirking as I swirl the liquid around in the cup.

"Not anymore," in a swift motion he takes the glass from my hand and dumps the drink in a near by plant, a fake plant. I squeaked, looking around to see if anyone else had witnessed it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? It's fake and you just filled it with liquor and juice! Have you even heard of a fruit fly?" I demanded, swaying a bit on my feet, liquor buzzing through my veins. If anyone did that at my bar, I scoffed slightly at the thought staring him down judgmentally for his utter carelessness.

"It's fake, so the liquor won't kill it," he flashed me his insufferable sexy grin before adding "there's wins and losses to every decision we make," his eyes flashed and I stopped for a moment, weighing those words.

No, I can't get caught up in this. I had to figure out what was going on with Azriel and I. "And now you don't have a drink and I get to buy you one, so I win, Im not really concerned nor do I care about any of the losses. Besides, I only ever come here looking for you, so I don't care if they get fruit flies." That cocky smirk he wore, the way he carried himself... He did look good. That piercing gaze, the confidence that radiated off of him along with his expensive dizzying cologne.

I remembered what Az had said about him 'theres a lot of people that would kill him in this city' hearing his words echo in my head, knowing how much he hated that I'd been with Eris... I swallowed, my cheeks turning pink.

Az didnt care when he was fucked up, when he was smushing his face between those two bottle girls titties he didnt think about me at home— waiting for him.

So I wouldn't care now.

I didnt think about him, I didnt think about what it would do to him when I wrapped my fingers up into Eris expensive shirt and yanked his tall frame down to me.

"Wins and losses you say?" I whisper before pressing a kiss to his lips.

-

a/n: cliffhangerrr only time and comments will tell if yalll are mad about this drama HAHA sorry I had to drag the groveling out into multiple parts Az WILL be on his KNEES in the near future

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