#wholly. And how it hurts to keep it from her but it would hurt more to receive a negative reaction so you just don’t say anything.

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 12

yennskier post-s2 yucky tender gooiness

Having grown unexpectedly close in the winter spent at Kaer Morhen, Yennefer comes to a realization while in bed one morning with Jaskier.

That morning, Yennefer wakes to the sunrise warming the cold stone walls. The wind whistles through the narrow windows and the dingy old keep creaks and settles, but her bed is piled in furs and she has no obligation to rise and there is a warm body burrowed down beside her, his cheek against her bare shoulder.

Jaskier twitches in sleep, mumbling incoherently, never wholly silent even while unconscious. His messy hair tickles her neck, grown long, and he’s drooling on her from the corner of his open mouth. 

Something about that makes Yennefer feel fond rather than disgusted. She wants to press her fingers back through his tangled hair and kiss him awake, wants to push down the furs to reveal more of his body, her other hand stealing down through the dark hair on his belly. 

She wants to let him sleep a while longer, knowing that lately he’s been plagued by nightmares and bouts of insomnia after everything that happened the past months. He passes off the sleeplessness as bouts of creative fervor, staying up in Kaer Morhen’s dusty library writing drivel in his songbook. Most nights, she stays up with him, offering droll commentary and scathing critique. 

More than once, she’s dozed off in a high-backed chair in the library and woken to found that he’s carried her to bed, wrapped around her with his lips against her neck.

She spends most days in his company, both of them unclear where else they're meant to fit in the keep. The Witchers avoid her, Geralt won’t meet her eyes, and Ciri is curious and friendly enough but overly polite, never asking the questions she really wants to.

Yennefer suffers also nightmares, dark and churning and unspeakable, and every morning, she reaches to pull at a thread of chaos. Just to be certain that she still can.

Jaskier’s nightmares are often of fire and blood, shackled at the wrists while the flames climb the rafters overhead, broken fingers clawing at a locked door. Sometimes when Yennefer slips into his dreams to momentarily soothe them into something more pleasant, she sees herself with blood spilling down her slit wrists, feels the yawning fear that hollows his stomach. 

At present, his dreams are a fumble of disjointed images, some erotic and some comical with a bizarre overlap between the two. He mumbles something about sphincters and then ducks and his brows furrow, and Yennefer feels a strong and alarming surge of irrational affection for this ridiculous man sleeping beside. 

It makes little sense for the realization to come at that moment. That she loves him. Has fallen in love with him. Despite all his varied flaws or perhaps because of them. His simple, unfettered humanity. His baffling aesthetic choices. His constant whining and waffling. His heart, deep and compassionate and always aching a little. His cheeky lewd stupidity and his sincere and cliched candor.

Yennefer loves him.

It’s an unpleasant feeling, rising like acid reflux, because of course, realizing how she feels changes nothing. 

Jaskier couldn’t possibly love her back, not after everything, not being who they are. They’ve tumbled into this arrangement out of circumstance, leaning on each other for comfort and warmth through the long winter on the mountain, but this certainly isn’t his first choice. She’s seen his more pleasant dreams. The ones that span years with Geralt before she met either of them, the achey familiarity of years-long yearning fulfilled, all the right words said, all the old hurts soothed.

And if not Geralt, given the choice of any number of bedpartners across the Continent, would Jaskier ever possibly choose to wake beside her most mornings, the way she’d like to wake beside him.

The truth is that Yennefer is an afterthought, an unexpected pleasure that he’ll indulge in until spring, and then their paths will draw apart, and the cold isolation of her long and lonely life will sink back in again.

Jaskier wakes with his usual suddenness, snorting an interrupted breath, eyes blinking open as he scrunches up his whole face against the light. 

“Heh? Hughhg?” he grunts incoherently and then immediately begins to chatter. “Did I sleep in? Have we missed breakfast? Not missing much I suppose but– I just had the strangest dream about these massive waterfowl on a beautiful lake, and not gonna lie it got me going a-- Eh? Yennefer, why d’you look like that?”

“I don’t look like anything,” she says and rolls away from him, not wanting to know what face she’d been making as he woke.

Jaskier takes the opportunity to sling an arm around her waist and press his warm chest to her back, tangling their legs together as he kisses her shoulder. Not long ago, she may have balked at such open presumption that she would welcome his smothering embrace, but she does welcome it, she craves it. She turns her head to let him kiss her on the mouth, and he rolls his hips in a slow grind against her backside.

“You are not fucking me while thinking about large ducks,” she groans against his lips, feeling his very foolish thoughts pressed into her mind.

“It’s– they were alarmingly erotic!”

“Think about something else,” says Yennefer, and though she doesn’t usually like to impose herself so completely into another’s mind, wary of what she’ll find there, she allows her vulnerable fears to guide her into his thoughts.

Jaskier is thinking about the softness of her hair against his cheek, the scent of her, the sleep-warm feel of her body against his. He thinks how he’d like to wake every morning like this, how it would be enough just to hold her in his arms, to let his arousal fade to distant noise as he noses at her neck.

She hitches up a leg and reaches behind her to grip his hip and draw him to enter her, and his thoughts erupt in a slew of praises, not just for the heat of her cunt but for her raw and visceral beauty, her sharp edges, her pain, her desperate kindness. 

Yennefer feels small as his thoughts wash over her, battered by waves of longing, desire, and through it all a current of she can’t possibly feel this strongly toward little old me.

Idiots, both of them.

“Yen?” Jaskier asks, voice unsteady with alarm, and she realizes that she’s weeping, hot tears rolling to tremble on the ridge of her nose.

“I’m in love with you, you absolute fool,” says Yennefer and immediately wants to hide her burning, tear-streaked face in the pillows and pretend she hadn’t blurted that confession out so simply. 

Jaskier’s hips still.

“Really? Me?”

“No, I enjoy embarrassing myself and lying,” she says, frustrated. “Yes, you.”

“Oh.” An absent hand trails down her belly and back up. Lips mouth against the back of her neck. He resumes rocking up into her body with shallow rolls of his hips. “So would you call this love-making then? Given that I love you back, you wretched witch.”

His voice is hideously fond, his touch gentle, his thoughts a rush of warm elation.

“Call it whatever you’d like,” she says, hoping that he ignores how her voice breaks. She lets a hand fall on his backside with a smack. “Just get on with it.”

Jaskier proceeds to do so for the rest of the morning, brimming with giddy energy, all thoughts of nightmares forgotten by the both of them.

[lovebugdotcom]

In my room feeling sad but also feeling incredibly silly because the super short conversation that threw off my good mood started all because I said “stigma balls in your mouth” to my brother after I heard the word stigma mentioned in a commercial.

[chastiefoul]

stood up pt. 2

characters: alhaitham & ayato

read part one here!

a/n: cannot thank u all of you enough for how well-received the first fic was, hope you can enjoy the second part just as much!! also i hope you can forgive my limited knowledge of flora (and the things i made up) on haitham's part!!

tags: comfort / summary: wallowed in guilt, how will they make it up to you?

Alhaitham

“You look like shit,” Kaveh commented nonchalantly, as if currently watching some character on a show. “Shut it,” Alhaitham replied, having zero intention in dealing with his roomate. It has been a week since he finished his research, but relief didn’t wash over him at all, it was the same day as he had cruelly stood you up, making you wait for three whole hours before he finally came. There were a lot of upsetting feelings he’s been experiencing through for the past few days, but lately he felt giving his past self a good punch for forgetting such an important day. In a way too he had blamed the research that’s been occupying him. Although he quickly perished that thought, since it’d be too easy—blaming something other than himself. When in fact he is wholly at fault for forgetting the date.

Everyday Alhaitham had been coming to your house, wanting to talk to you but what always greet him was your roomate, telling him that you’re busy. Feeling like he had no right to push it further, he left it at that. With clenched fists and a pang on his chest everytime, he was forced to go home. Today he was at his wits’ end, he had no idea what to do and how would he make you to meet him even for a second. Other than forgiveness that he’s looking for, he missed you terribly. With all the times he could’ve spent with you taken by the damn research, he longed to embrace you, to see your smile, and listen to you rambling about what’s been happening in your life.

Alhaitham wasn’t really one to be experienced in ‘love’, he knew that, you knew that. That’s why he loved your patience in guiding him through this thing, but now the only person that would be able to tell him what to do was the very one person he couldn’t talk to. Alhaitham groaned, thinking if you were in his position you’d probably know to do—scratch that. If it’s you, Alhaitham was sure that you wouldn’t even allow yourself to do such a careless act.

☘

“He’s here again,” your roomate claimed, seeing him from the window. “Just tell him the same thing,” you said, hugging your knees as you sat on the couch. It's true that Alhaitham looked horrible, but you weren’t any better. You’ve been crying yourself to sleep every night, it especially hurt, when you had to hold back the sobs over a pillow that your throat hurts; since you didn’t want to disturb your roomate. What happened that day was like a slap to the face, that you were forced to recognize a fact that perhaps you love Alhaitham way more that he loves you.

Your rommate just nodded to what you say and went to the door. Not long she came back bearing a message. “He said he’d wait for you outside until you feel like talking to him.”

“Just leave him be then, I’m sure he’d go back soon, it’s especially cold outside today.” You said, really having no idea just how stubborn the gray-haired male is going to act. “Well, just keep an eye out.” Your roomate went back to her room. Tell that to him. You thought. You turned the television on to distract yourself, but you couldn’t help but peek outside the window every few minutes, to see if he’s still there. And he always was.

And that went for more than an hour, until you felt like you couldn’t do it anymore. You were mad at him, but you’re not heartless. You couldn’t be. However you didn’t intend to forgive him so easily, you told yourself that you were only meeting him to send him home and to not come back everyday.

You approach the front door and opened it.

There he stood, with an hand behind his back. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, but it quickly turns into a look of concern and guilt mixes, seeing your swollen eyes.

“What do you want?” You curtly said, taking a good look of the man in front of you who’s in terrible shape. His complexion doesn’t look good, there are bags under his eyes, he hasn’t been taking care of himself at all. A part of your chest twinge at the fact that not being able to see you was the cause of all this. You weren’t used to seeing Alhaitham so all over the place, when he always showed a perfect picture of a man who got it all together.

“I’m sorry,” He quickly cut to the chase, afraid that you’ll be out of his sight yet again as he revealed a purple hyacinth, handing it to you. The flower that represented regret and remorse. Then he continued meekly, “Of course, I don’t expect you to forgive me with one lousy flower, but I hope you will believe me when I said I truly regret that I had forgotten about our date, it seethes me with terrible anger to remember that I let myself be so caught up in my business, resulting you had to stand in the snow for hours; hours of you thinking of the reason why I didn’t come, and hours of doubting my feelings towards you. It must’ve felt terrible, I am so sorry.” His voice was close to trembling, however he knew to hold it in, since the one who should be upset was you. “I understand if me being in your vision may infuriate you, but please, please don’t shut me out.” He pleaded, it’s the most vulnerable expression you’ve ever seen on him that it tugs on your heartstrings.

Of course the truth is you missed him as much as he does, but you had to be sure of his feelings towards you. And seeing him now yet again after many failed attempts of meeting you over the days with a flower you didn’t even know where it came from since every field should be covered in snow and a heartfelt all-over-the-place apology, you couldn’t help but soften up. You reached to take the flower. “Come in, let’s talk inside.”

You both sat on the couch, your right hand went to rub his cheek. It was incredibly cold. “What were you thinking, standing in the cold like that? What if I hadn’t come out?” You mumbled gently. “It was nothing compared to what I put you through, I would’ve wait even for days.” He frowned as you leaned in to your touch, putting his hand atop of yours. Oh how he missed this. However he didn’t indulge on the touch thinking it was forgiveness, it’s just because you were that kind.

“You really hurt me,” you started, as he listened. “I had been looking forward to the date for days and then seeing you late looking like you just barely woke up—it made think that maybe you didn’t love me as much.” Your voice sounded so small as you reached the end of your sentence. Alhaitham felt pricks on his heart at the confession, swiftly pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kissed your temple. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. But I can assure you that was not the case. I was so caught up on my research that I mixed up the date of our meeting, though that’s not an excuse for such a careless act.” He paused.

“(y/n), I love you very much.”

Alhaitham was really having trouble telling you just how much he loves you. If you’d asked, he would wait on the cold for days until you’re ready to talk to him, even today he thought that it was okay if it was only a second, he had to see you, to know you’re doing fine and well, that was what he thought the most important thing. Just the way he kissed you so gently at the top of your head, you thought that you had a grasp as to how much he loves you. “Thank you for letting me see you,” he smiled, he cupped your face planting kisses on each of your swollen eyelids.

“Promise me you’ll make up for it, haitham,” you said softly. A chance. Alhaitham felt an unexplainable tingle feeling on his chest, “I promise.” He then said kissing you gently on the lips, as he made a mental note to always, always pick you up at your place for the dates that are more to come.

☘

“The flowers? I.. went to Tighnari first thing in the morning, I asked him about the language of the flowers and what they meant. I came across it as I read a book, fortunately I could find the one I was looking for.” He explained, strangely bashful.

Flower picking? On this weather?

“But where did you even get it, isn’t everything either covered in snow or had withered already?” You asked genuinely curious. “Well Tighnari said there would be some on the cliffs of The Chasm, so I went there.” He said.

Cliff? The Chasm? That terribly dangerous place? Of course it’d be nothing for Alhaitham, you thought. But still, traveling that far and so quickly just for a flower.. you couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, I like it.” You smiled, the one where it made Alhaitham’s inside all tingly and warm. At this he felt like he really could do anything, as long as you were the one who asked for it. “Tell me what kind of flower you want on our next date, I’ll definitely bring it to you.” He took your hand, trailing little kisses along your fingertips to your wrist. Your stomach fluttered. You really do love him.

As if lesson was strictly learned, from that day forward Alhaitham had never once made you wait anywhere anymore at all. He's always ready in front of your door, sometimes with a flower, sometimes with something that you'd nonchalantly said the day before; for instance a food you were craving for, a necklace that you stared a second longer than the other that were on display, or even a stuffed toy you mentioned was cute even though you only said it to make a conversation.

Before, Alhaitham usually passive, most times always being the receiving end by your spoiling, but it was because he didn't want to take initiative, he just didn't understand how. Now, he understood just how delightful it was to see his loved one smile because of the things he did, and he only had you to thank for that.

Ayato

“My lord?” Thoma’s voice snapped the blue-haired male train of thoughts. “Ah, yes just leave the tea there Thoma.” He said. “Did something happen, my lord? You’ve been pretty out of it all week.”

“I’m fine, you can return to your duty,” Ayato calmly said. The blond housekeeper only nodded and went out, understanding very well that it was futile to probe any further. Ayato looked blankly at the unattended pile of papers he needed to take care of, he hasn’t been working well—or even at all. Since everytime his mind would wander off to you, to your meek voice that day telling him that you were tired, with a tone so hurt his heart couldn’t help but ache. This regret, this remorse; he wondered if he even had any right to feel them? When even to this day he unconsciously stilll waited for you to barge in to the estate, wanted to see you smile happily while greeting him without a care in the world. But that didn’t happen, of course it didn’t.

Ayato shut his eyes with an unpleasant expression for the nth time that day, remembering the date he had forgotten. For how long you were waiting for him? What were you thinking while waiting for him on such a harsh weather? What was it that finally made you give up? All these questions swirled inside his mind as he couldn’t even imagine how terrible you must’ve felt that day. Ayato was a formidable man, he was responsible and someone with a strong conviction, it was what the political people said at least. But he knew you’d laugh, if you hear it. Responsible? That Ayato? Who made his lover wait for him out in the cold for hours?

He didn’t even realize he’s been clenching his fist until he saw the crinkled paper scattered across his desk. Why the hell did I forget such an important day? He fumed, gritting his teeth. But the truth was he had no excuse, he had simply forgotten, perhaps he could blame the endless meeting he had to go through, but even then he was the one who made the promise that he could come. The guilt overwhelmed him, he hoped it would just swallowed him alive, but it wouldn’t be fair to you. He considered calling one of his soldier to try and punch him in the face so he could feel a little free from the binding shame, but only to realize the person who even had the right to do that was none other than you. So Ayato was determined that he’d do anything to beg for your forgiveness.

But more than forgiveness, he’s been worried about your health. He thought that if you hadn’t forgiven him, at least you could be well and healthy, though it was extremely hypocritical to say since he was the one who made you sick in the first place. Ayato stood up, planning to go to your place yet again even though his work was piling up, there are meetings that are waiting to be attended. But at the moment it was clear to him that nothing else matters except seeing you.

☘

This was truly the worst.

Lying down with a fever with nothing to do, surrounded with nothing but unpleasant thoughts roaming around your mind. You blinked the tears away once again as they keep coming occasionally, remembering that day.

You sighed, your head was throbbing and you couldn’t really sleep as you just woke up an hour ago.

As if on cue, a familiar voice called out from the door. “(y/n)?” Ayato called out. Another tired sigh escaped. Does this man not know how to take a hint? You’ve been driving him away for the past few days, his face was the one thing you couldn’t stand to see.

“Please (y/n) open the door, even just for a few second.” His voice was now strained, laced with desperation and plead. You got up all wobbly from the headache, body still feeling sluggish. “What?” You said, frowning.

Seeing your condition Ayato’s expression contorted into utter displeasure, as if you being this way had hurt him too. What a joke, you almost laughed out loud. He looked like he wanted to say something based of how he gaped and closed his mouth like a fish, still finding the right words to say.

“Your few seconds are up,” you said, already on your way to closing your door. “No, no, please.” He hold the door, and of course with your condition and his ridiculous strength, there’s no way you would win that one. “Can I come in?” He finally said. “Why?” You said, leaning on the doorframe intending to look intimidating as you crossed your arm, but really you needed the support to stand up straight on your currently weak body. This didn’t go unnoticed by the sword-wielder of course as the worried expression deepened across his face. “Please, sweetheart let’s talk inside, I’m worried you’ll faint any minute with your condition.” You let off his slip of a tongue, too tired to reprimand him on that. And honestly you wanted nothing more than to return to your bed but you still had something to say. “Worried?” You laughed mockingly, and Ayato had never felt smaller. “Yes.” Still, he managed to say. “Would’ve been nice if you were worried when I was waiting for you in the snow for hours.” That one stings, and Ayato knew he deserved that.

Too tired to chase him away, you just return to your bed and inside your blanket. Ayato just stood awkwardly near the bed. “Have you been taking medicine? How is your head? Would I be allowed to check your temperature? What do you want to-“

“Ayato.” Your tone was chilling, felt like a definite warning—Ayato knew, it was a warning. Right now he doesn’t have any right, there are other matters he should be groveling to take responsibility of, he thought.

“Will you be willing to listen to me?” He kneeled beside the bed, putting his hand on the edge of it, hesitating whether he should touch your hand or not. Your back was still facing him, but you were quiet. Assuming that it was a permission, Ayato continued to talk.

“First of all, I apologize. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how I regret my action, that you had to stand there alone waiting for me—who stupidly didn’t even remember, I apologize.” He whispered, his voice was weak. “No, even way before that the way you always come to the estate to visit me and stood by my side no matter how crazy my work got and how I never thought how it would take a toll on you, I truly truly apologize.” You felt a little part of your heart melted at how meek his voice was.

“I took your unconditional kindness and patience for granted,” he said. There was silence after that, “you did,” you finally said. “I’m sorry.” Ayato repeated once again. He then very hesitantly grabbed your hand, and as soon as he saw that you gave the okay he brought it to his face, kissing your palm very lovingly. You turned your head to him as you were lying down, he looked disheveled.

“Don’t go to the estate anymore.” The blue-haired male announced suddenly, your stomach dropped as he quickly continued.

“From now on I’ll come to you.”

You blinked. “I’ll make sure to be here every day, greeting you first thing in the morning.” Ayato smiled, determined. He was sure on his decision to do this. “As of now, I know very well I don’t deserve your kindness, so I’ll try hard to do better, to do my best, for you.”

Your heart softened at his words.

“Can you please give me this chance?” He was desperate. Your anger slowly dissipated, a warm light like a candle flickered inside your chest, a hope. “Okay.” Ayato was over the moon hearing the response, that he couldn’t help but kiss your temple. Your stomach fluttered, it knew you missed his touch. “For now can I ask you to eat and take medicine?” He asked while gently tucking your hair behind your ear. You nodded, as he got everything ready. He ended up beside you all day, taking care of your needs.

☘

Since that day Ayato did not break his promise even once. Always coming in the morning, sometimes with gift on his hand, other times with breakfast all ready. Then he shared his schedule with you for the day, and even then he’d always be the one to visit you when he was free, showering you with such overwhelming love. It was clear that the man love you very very much, and now he didn’t let you forget that.

“Ayato, thank you.” You said, on a random night. He just looked at you, adoration was apparent on his expression. “Anything for you, love. I mean it, anything.” He kissed your lips gently, the nightfall continued comfortably.

TAGLIST- <3

@sunsethw4 @ieathairs @96jnie @kipper-s @nambii @tigerpriestess @bearbae4 @wearetherealarmb @squishychongyun @jokerloverparis @katsudonnnnnni @dr3amyxiao @xiamuyi @luningningtala @fuyaa @goldenglow149 @xiaosmaskandspear @acheeseblock @fishsticksonballsacks @rokosbasalisk @stellakito @roguexmoriartea @sageseagrass @irisxiel @lowotad @trecedelabuenasuerte @the-dreaming-city @lilliansstuff @cinaiel @bunny-slvt @orginiallyann @chaotickio @n1tsumi @kunikuzushisbeloved @ilovemarvel99 @lunaizhere @optimisticalmondbananabiscuit @kurohoely @larisanam @chaotichearts-19 @illdoitagainbopbop @mzia642 @childesglove @justgiulia @celestialwinds @traumaramacenter @kazuhaprnt @fou56 @angelkazusstuff @itsyourgirlria @yamtwt @gel0517

i can't seem to tag some of you guys, perhaps it's something to do on the accoun't settings? regardless hope you can still find this fic and thank you all for the interest <3

[eternal-moss]

Christ, the whole Wilbur situation is so fucked. Already the things that are coming out of the woodworks so quickly are so sad.

tw for abuse and misogyny. If you aren’t aware of this yet, Wilbur Soot has been revealed as a prolific abuser

My heart breaks for all the people he’s harmed. I think Shelby was really intelligent in the way that she’s brought this to attention, without naming him. This meant that even though some people denied it or lashed back at her, the repercussions were minimised.

Wilbur responding proved it was him she was talking about, although the details she provided made it so patently clear it was him from the start, it made it so that he had to admit he was the one who had been committing essentially serial abuse on young women by the nature of him responding to the description of the unnamed abuser, although he didn’t mention that it was *multiple women* in his absolutely pathetic excuse of an ‘apology’.

I’ve been thinking about this deeply from pretty much directly the moment after Shubble revealed it really. I’m not going to pretend that I’ve ever watched any of Shubble’s stuff, and I’ve not watched streamers for a couple of years now, but the courage she had to do this is fucking immense. Wilbur is very well off financially with a massive and loyal fanbase, the influence he has is very large and not to be underestimated. His ‘apology’ reeks of PR pressure, although it fails to meet the mark on all levels of even a basic apology (which is not even the bare minimum in this situation) and omits some very important details.

It’s so sad that abuse and grooming is so common amongst streamers/YouTubers, but the response to this time (from the community) being genuine support instead of victim blaming does make me feel hopeful. Wilbur’s condescension of women and younger ccs is absolutely disgusting. This recontextualises so many moments when he’s been dismissive of and made jokes at women’s expense. What he’s done is abuse and it’s misogyny. He’s picked on people he knows are less able to fight back from all parameters. Misogyny is massive in the gaming scene, and he’s relied on all these women (it really is a lot at this rate, even an ex-trumpeter from Lovejoy) staying silent out of fear.

Shubble saying keeping their silence protected him more than it protected her is very true, and this will absolutely wreck his reputation. Rather, he’s fucked it up himself, and there really is no one else to blame in this situation. The people who knew about it and were subject to this were typically smaller, younger or female streamers. It’s disgusting that he had relied on their silence for so long.

This is a bit of a mess, but ngl so am I. It’s been eating at me for as long as it’s been going on, I found out almost immediately. I was quite a big Wilbur fan for a damn long time, since his early days of streaming (when skyblock randomiser was made etc). I was emotionally invested in his original music and looked up to him a lot.

The worst thing I think is that I resonated with his online interactions with Tommy (which makes me feel vile), and his adoration of Wilbur, always calling him ‘like a big brother’, and it fondly reminded me of me and my younger sibling. Except Wilbur would sometimes do some unexpectedly cruel things. Like stomping on Tommy’s hand and causing it to bleed. That alarmed me at the time, also when he revealed that he was relying on Tommy to talk him out of suicide, which really made me concerned about how healthy their relationship was. The worst thing is, this didn’t surprise me that much at all when it was revealed. Shelby’s descriptions could fit no other person, and it made sense and lined up with his past behaviour, but that doesn’t make it any less wholly awful and horrific.

I wasn’t going to talk about it on this blog, but I just feel angry. Angry for all these people he’s hurt. Angry that he’ll still be living comfortably off of his fanbase for years to come, young people who trusted and idolised him, the vast majority young girls themselves. Angry for Shubble, angry for Niki, angry for the women’s names we don’t know yet, angry for those who had been intimidated into silence. Angry for those who had been abused and brutalised by him. The main thing that’s coming up again and again is the biting, the bruising, the physical abuse, the way they were scared into saying anything, left traumatised by the way they’d been treated. As if that could be brushed off in any way by some disgustingly shallow and self-centred attempt at self preservation of his reputation. Fuck off.

Like Aimsey said, this isn’t some light cancellation from Twitter, these are reprehensible serial misogynistic crimes, and it’s only been days since the initial reveal and hours since his response and the influx of victims speaking up. My heart breaks to know how much more is going to be unearthed.

So yeah this is basically it, I treat this blog mainly as an archive for fan creations of things I like, but also as a collection of my thoughts. I have been unable to stop thinking about this, and I know that I’ve barely talked about mcyt on here, but I was heavily into dsmp and streamers for a long time. Shubble is insanely bloody brave for doing this, I wish them all the best (and the other victims) in recovering from his behaviour, as well as applauding her for the sheer fucking bravery to make the decision to speak up.

***I’ve seen some people saying Shubble uses they/them pronouns, but most people I’ve seen refer to her with she/her. If I find out she doesn’t use she/her I’ll change this post < Shelby uses she/they

[angelshadowsinger]

Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐖):

hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 

When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 

This one goes out to all my angst girlies. My ladies who like the feeling of tears crawling onto your pillow, of hurt balling up in your stomach as you wander through a fic. I see you and I feel you, and I cooked this one up special just for you. 

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are! 

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The first time it had happened, you had been more confused than anything. 

Azriel had just given Elain a gift for Starfall; a pair of earrings that would glow a warm pink when kissed by the sun’s rays. Her cheeks turned the same color as she admired them, as did the tips of the shadowsinger’s ears. 

Just one smooth petal rested in your palm as you brought your hand back from covering a cough, pink and delicate and beautiful. You thought that maybe it had landed in your palm before you coughed— even if there were no peonies in the vicinity and you hadn’t even seen one in months. Because there was no way that it had come… out of you. 

The second time it happened, confusion became fear and it swiftly took root deep in your stomach. This time, it was a couple of petals, dewey in your hand as you turned away from your friends, shock running through you. 

Azriel and Elain were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the love seat in the living room of the House of Wind, spirits being passed around by everyone and laughter filling the air. They had just shared a look you could infer was meant to be a secret between only them, but you had unfortunately witnessed the action. You could hardly breathe as you quickly hid the evidence of your newfound predicament, dumping the petals into a potted plant beside the mantle. You hoped that you were slick; taking a slow sip from your glass in an attempt to rid your throat of that tight, scratchy feeling even though your body was screaming for you to gulp it down. 

In that moment, you realized that something was wrong with you. It would only take a few more petal-filled fits and two trips to the grand library of Velaris to discover that you were— to put it simply— completely, wholly, and undeniably doomed. It was there, during the early hours of morn and the empty, candle-lit corridors that you learned three things;

You were in love with your best friend, Azriel. 

He was in love with someone else.

And you were going to die. 

— 

Things between you and the shadowsinger hadn’t always been so difficult. 

Your relationship was, for many years, easy and left you feeling light; every conversation and interaction cherished. Initially, the pair of you had become fast friends; the other members of the Inner Circle even remarking on how he was usually a little slower to build relations. Perhaps something of your sense of self, intelligence, and silver-thorned wit had something to do with his initial intrigue. That was the guess Feyre ventured, anyway. 

Once your friendship with the elusive male had blossomed, it was easy to maintain. Though you didn’t see him every day, when he did pay you a visit, the two of you made the most of it. The Inner Circle liked to poke at the pair of you, even going so far as to joke about your relationship that was not a relationship. And you and Azriel took it like champs; never wavering, always keeping it light in good fun. 

But at night when you would crawl into your sheets and close your eyes, sometimes thoughts of him would find you. It was wrong to be thinking of your best friend like this when he so obviously would never feel that way for you, and yet… you pondered how his fingers would feel tracing across your naked back. You wondered what it would be like to melt into his arms at the end of the day, how his heartbeat would sound if it was just inches away from your ear, if you could lay your head on his chest. 

You tried, you really did try to stop the thoughts from coming. But they quickly became more vivid, and more frequent than before. You couldn’t rid him from your mind— couldn’t focus when he came near, couldn’t hold up your end of the witty volley you usually shared because you’d get flustered if you stared at him for too long. Slowly, you had come to realize that the jokes your friends loved to make weren’t just conjecture— they knew all along that something was there. 

It made you wonder if Azriel knew, too. 

He was undeniably one of the smartest males you had come to know— your appraisal of him was sparkling, stellar. But when it came to things regarding emotion— specifically, his own emotions… he tended not to be quite as adept. So you had now landed in this confusion-fogged purgatory. Either your best friend knew you harbored feelings for him and he did not return them whatsoever— acting ignorant of your emotions. Or he didn’t know you were in love with him, didn’t even see a romantic relationship with you as a possibility, and maybe… if he were enlightened, he would realize that he… loved you too. 

It was that very hope that had you holding out for so long. You so desperately wanted to believe that he just wasn’t aware of your feelings— of his— that you smushed your dignity down and continued to uphold your friendship, never revealing that you felt romantically attracted to him. 

But the waiting game, of course, came back to bite you in the ass. Because the moment you realized he had started to see someone else… you knew that you had deluded yourself for months. All those nights that you laid awake, fantasizing about him and how he would proclaim his love to you… they were just fantasies. Nothing of the sort would ever happen. 

Because now, he had Elain. 

Her— the Archeron sister known for her gentle spirit and her striking face. She was quiet, and sweet, and goddamn breathtaking. Of course it had to be her; it couldn’t have been some bitch that would actually be deserving of your hatred. Because he was perfect, why would his choice of life partner be anything but? You couldn’t think of a bad word to say about the woman. 

Elain had always treated you with polite kindness, a sense of regality emanating from her and her ethereal beauty. Though she wasn’t by any means your favorite female, there was nothing she had ever done to justify even a grain of dislike. You couldn’t say your few conversations had been riveting, nor her presence been warm and inviting… but they hadn’t been the opposite either. Your opinion on her was removed, but pleasant. Hell, if you could stand a blow to the ego, you might even admit you were jealous of the looks almost every male gave her when she entered the room. 

The jealousy certainly ramped up once you realized that your beloved shadowsinger was one of those males… and actually, he was the only one she seemed to return interest toward, which of course… was salt in the wound. 

As the weeks dragged on, their supposedly-secret affair began picking up speed. The sight of Azriel’s warm hazel gaze pinned to her made your stomach churn with unease, the petals itching up your throat more and more often. It became easier to just avoid the both of them in general, and with the absence of their presences, it was easier for you to pretend that everything was fine, and that you could handle your worsening condition on your own. 

But of course, that was not the case. 

Because after a few months, the Inner Circle gathered in private quarters above the Night Court Annual Starfall Ball. Thousands celebrated and swirled below you in the ballroom and yet you could only focus on one. It was then that the man who haunted your thoughts stood before the rest of you, pretty Elain tucked under his arm all giddy and shy, and announced they were engaged to be wed.

—

Warm liquid trickled out from the corner of your mouth, your ears ringing as your vision blurred in two, wide waves cleaving and then melting together again. 

The crisp air felt welcome on your flushed cheeks, cool on your inflamed, ragged lungs. Stars danced above you as they pelted across the sky, and in your haggard state, they seemed to smear into a disorienting and beautiful masterpiece. 

Someone was kneeling in front of you, large wings casting shadows around broad shoulders as they yelled something you couldn’t quite understand. The warm smell of them was comforting and you relaxed slightly, recognizing it was Cassian and slumping as his calloused hands came to hold your biceps.  

The spliced image of him made it too hard to read the words on his lips. You tried to sit up but your body was drained, making it impossible to move. The Illyrian gathered your limp form into his arms and your head lolled to face the ground, finally piecing together what had happened. 

A pile of pink, lush petals glistened up at you against the dark stone of the balcony floor, the light from the full moon sparkling off droplets of deep scarlet. It had happened again… and this time, it was even worse than before. You had had another episode— the evidence of it glaring even in your semi-conscious state. 

“You’re in love with him…,” Cassian said slowly, barely even audible. 

But you heard it— your body trembling with some sick concoction of shame and relief. For so long you had not uttered a whisper of your feelings, never daring to take ownership of them, let alone share them. There were no words that you could muster, nothing sharp or bright for you to make a response. You were just tired. Indescribably tired. Gods, you were so tired, your limbs felt as if they had turned to stone, and you could slumber for a thousand years. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the male growled, squeezing your limp form closer to his firm chest. “I swear, he… Gods, this is fucked.” 

You closed your eyes and allowed his body heat to seep into you, finding a small bit of comfort there. Cassian didn’t choose to say anything else as the waves of sickness gradually dissipated, leaving you weak and numb.

“Cass,” you rasped, barely able to get enough air to speak. “I’m scared.” Your head felt as if it was filled with a thick smog— struggling to get enough oxygen as you slowly recovered. 

The General’s brow furrowed in pain at your pitiful confession, gathering you closer to his chest and tucking your head in tight beneath his chin. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself, not anymore. I’m here.” Cassian held you so delicately you wanted to cry, guilt pulsing through you as you realized he must have been terrified to have found you in such a sorry state. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, woe taking root deep in your chest. Now that you had seen Azriel with her— like that, so clearly in love with her, parading their affections out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see as he twirled her around the ballroom earlier… It was too much. Every part of you throbbed in agony, and you were consumed in fresh throes of self-pity. It was completely humiliating to be this debilitated. All because you were in love with your best friend, and he was in love with someone else. 

Cassian scrunched his brow, the planes of his chiseled face settling into solid lines as you regained your bearings. “There’s no need to apologize, Y/n. You didn’t ask for this— how you feel is not your fault. Your body is already punishing you for simply having feelings— don’t let your mind join in on the beating too.”

You nodded, tucking your hands into your chest as he sighed and stood, taking you with him. He lifted you into his embrace with the utmost ease, as though you weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. Your evening dress fluttered with the movement. If anyone caught sight of you two from far away, perhaps it could be construed as romantic, the way he now held you in his strong arms, strolling away from the party.

“You don’t seem as… freaked out as I thought you would,” you whispered as he walked with lethal quiet. Shadows stood tall above you as you approached the hedged boundary of the estate gardens, cutting into the overwhelming display the falling stars continued to put on. 

Cassian was quiet. 

You took a minute to study his somber expression, trying to read what he was feeling in this moment of recollection. Clearly, he had some experience with this disease before. Otherwise, he would’ve ran you right inside the ball, or to the nearest healer. But he didn’t— instead, he’d wandered into the dark hedges of the grounds, concealing you from prying eyes and ears. As if he understood what you would want most in this moment of shattering vulnerability. 

“I’m not sure why you expect so little of me, little one,” he eventually replied, coming to the center of the area. He perched you beside him on a wrought-iron bench, facing a small fountain whose gentle gurgle drowned out the last hints of the celebration you’d left behind. 

You frowned. Your lungs felt looser— distracted by whatever it was that provided Cassian with experience regarding your dreadful illness. It was nearly enough to forget the bomb that had been dropped on you upstairs just twenty minutes ago. “It’s not that, it’s just—“ you began. Cass shot you a playful look and you sighed, a smile daring at your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Okay I just meant that before this, I’d never heard of this kind of thing…” Your voice trailed off, hand reaching to rest on his before you murmured, “I’m sorry you have.” 

The Illyrian raised a brow and let out a short, hollow laugh. “Oh no— It wasn’t me, I don’t… Well, never that bad anyway. I’ve just seen… how bad it can get. An old friend of mine once had the unfortunate experience of falling ill to this plague centuries ago.”

You nodded and put your hands in your lap, digging a thumb into your palm. “What… happened to them?” 

Cassian closed his lips and sighed, hands bracing his knees. Silence drew out for a long beat before he finally spoke. “He told the one he loved about his ailment. And they told him..,” he trailed off, gaze darting sideways to land on you. You gestured for him to continue, and he did so after a brief pause. “They told him they would never have romantic feelings for him. They asked him to have the procedure. They wanted him to live, and if they couldn’t love him… then that was the only way.”

You shuddered. The very notion of the procedure made your bones ache and your shoulders sag.

“So he did,” Cassian went on, undeterred. “And he survived.” 

Quiet invaded the still air, otherwise only interrupted by the low chirps of crickets in the grass and the muffled party. Cassian decided not to speak any further on the subject, instead content to let a calm silence settle between the pair of you. But somehow, you found yourself talking— despite never having voiced aloud any of these feelings, any of these thoughts. 

“Cass, do you think… I should have the procedure, too?” 

It was a question that was fully weighted— heavy, you already knew, but by the way the Illyrian’s shoulders sagged, the gravity of it all seemed more drastic than before. 

Cassian took his time to form a reply, but when he finally did, it was in a soft and hushed voice. “I am not the one that should be making such calls, Y/n. But I will tell you that my friend… he was never quite the same.” 

You shared a look of understanding with him— he was your friend, and the male you were in love with was his brother. Freshly engaged brother, at that. The consequences of the procedure would certainly crack a deep fracture in the dynamic of your group. If anything, you would probably fade away from everyone, seeing as every one of your memories that the Shadowsinger dwelled in would be tainted— his absence removed entirely. He would not exist to you anymore, and even if that wouldn’t necessarily affect you, oblivious to his existence, everyone around you would not share that same luxury. 

And Azriel would be there, too. He would have to see you and know that you had loved him so intensely, that those feelings were so wholly one-sided, that you had to physically remove him from your mind. All so that your heart could forget him and start anew. Would that bother him? Knowing that you had suffered because you had fallen in love with him, while he would never possibly feel that way for you? Surely that would make him uncomfortable, to be in your presence after that. So ultimately, it would be best to just move away, and start somewhere else— clean slate. Would he even miss you? 

“Sometimes I think about it— the procedure. This disease, it’s a wretched way to live, Cass. It hurts,” you said, voice cracking as emotion welled up in your eyes and throat. “It hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even be around him anymore. Especially not now. Now that he’s…” You trained off, unable to say the words. 

Cassian slid to your side, tucking you underneath a strong arm. The shadow of his wing furled around you from behind, encasing you in a warm, safe space. Tears began to race down your cheeks, gathering at your chin and splattering onto the silken fabric on your lap. You couldn’t stop them— still too drained from the fit from before. All you could do was cry as your friend gathered you closer to him, patting the top of your head with careful strokes, trying his best to comfort you. 

Only once your crying seemed to subside did Cassian offer another solution. “Maybe… you could talk to him.” 

You laughed— a hollow, broken sound. Cassian lips curved up at the sound nonetheless. “I’m simply nowhere near as brave as you, Cass.”  Shaking your head, your gaze focused on the bubbling fountain before you. “Even if I could manage to face him, and confess to him… If he rejected me… I think I’d die on the spot.” 

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice low. 

You bit your lip. “And why not, Cass? There’s a good chance that I could drop dead any time I have one of these fits. That’s just reality.”

“Well fuck that reality,” Cassian spat, wings ruffling.  “I don’t want to live in a world without you, and I sure as hell know Azriel wouldn’t either.”

“Well maybe I don’t wanna live without him!” you yelled. After holding back your emotions for so long, they just kept flooding out after the hole Cassian had punched into the dam that had kept them at bay. “Maybe I’d rather die than lose even one memory with him, maybe I’ll just hold out for as long as I can because I’m too fucking scared to lose him!”

Cassian’s face twisted into agony. “And what of those who love you?” he challenged, voice shaking slightly with emotion. “What about us, what happens when you die, and when the last memories we will have of you were you withering away before our very eyes?! You love him? Do you know what world of pain he will be in when he finds out what happened to you? And then to discover your absolute complacency in the matter?”

A sob escaped you as you felt every word of truth pierce the feeble veil you had called a shield in your attempt at denial. Your friend was right— you couldn’t allow this disease to win, not if that meant hurting everyone you loved in the process. And now that you thought about it— even if you chose to remember him, and let the sickness take its course… what good would those memories do you, when you’d be dead? 

Cassian seemed to realize you had accepted defeat, because he tightened his hold on you and stroked your hair as you cried into his chest. The sadness you felt unfortunately was not alleviated by your tears, but at least… you had come to see that there was only one option forward. 

You had to go through with the procedure.

You had to forget Azriel.

𝘩𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴!! 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 <3 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘤, 𝘚𝘛𝘚𝘗𝘍𝘠~ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦! 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯~

𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 2 & 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯!!

⤷ masterlist

[tacticaldiary]

omg hi, i love your writing and saw requests were open for cod. i was wondering if you could write something where reader and simon are in an established relationship (can either be public to the team or a secret) and they are on a mission. reader has a scare during a mission and ghost has an “i almost lost you” moment with her.

Anyone But Her

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Their line of work has never guaranteed the assurance of coming home, but that doesn't make the fear of loss any easier to deal with, especially not when it happens right in front of his eyes.

Masterlist

If asked where one feels the most comfortable, people who respond with something like 'home' or 'the beach', something achievable and wholly normal.

Her? There was nothing more comforting than the feel of hot metal in her tight grip during a mission, the easy reloading of her sniper almost by muscle memory as she gazes down the scope. The commands, the back and forth with tasks and delegations, and the constant movement and adjustment needed to bring home a victory is what keeps her on her feet.

"In position on first building." Ghost's rough voice travels through the comms, bringing her attention away from the scope she's looking down. Laying down on the top of a hill, spotting the other members as they infiltrate a Russian warehouse, was an easy job. In and out before they realised that the team was even there.

It's an ugly thing, what the 141 deals with, but it's so far set from what normal is that she's long since accepted that there's no going back.

Part of her is glad she hadn't tried. If there was never a chance she'd have been selected for this squad, she never would have met the enigma that is Simon Riley.

Standoffish, brash, deadly.

Understanding, confident, loving.

They'd butted heads on her first day harsher than any of the others ever had, and after an order from Price to resolve their tension lest it interfere mid battle, the both of them had come to realise that they had much more in common than they thought.

The rest had been history. They already moved in sync on the field, and after a try they'd discovered they worked just as well together as something more than teammates. It was hard to keep things professional with glances so heated and words that no friend would ever offer each other.

Some of the things he's said to her in the heat of the moment and the privacy of their quarters makes blood rush to her cheeks just thinking about it.

She was just a precaution, really. A failsafe, because the odds may be in their favour but they were never always truly compliant.

"Breaching second on your command." Gaz's voice relays through.

"Sergeant, how are things from above?"

"All clear, L.T." She says, doing another final sweep of the grounds. "No visible hostiles near your vicinity." The good news is delivered with an undertone of caution.

If their intel was correct, this warehouse should be housing stolen US documents, information that could deal real damage to their operations if transported farther than it already had been.

So where were all the soldiers?

The only ones she sees are a few mulling around the grounds, three by the radio tower nearby and another few near the vehicles at the back of the compounds. Surely such valuable intel would be more heavily guarded?

Her gut speaks to attest that something is wrong, but before she can bring it to light, Ghost and Soap, and Gaz and Price breach the doors of their respective warehouses.

"Copy." Ghost rasps. "Breaching now." She pauses for a moment to fiddle with her comms unit, the voices filtering through to her earpiece crackling in a way they shouldn't be if the device was fully functional.

Looking down her scope, everything seems normal. The grass swaying in the wind, the silence that follows and-

Silence?

She stiffens at the sudden lack of noise. It was too still, the clam before the storm. Hand flying to her comms, she speaks into the device;

"Ground team, how copy?"

Static. Then silence.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she repeats herself louder, more firmly, frowning where there's nothing but muted static and crackling. She does another sweep of the facility with her sniper. All seems quiet until her gaze focuses on the radio tower.

Adjusting her scope's distance, her mouth goes dry when she realises exactly what the three at the base of the structure are holding. A device she herself has used many times during missions like these.

A jammer.

Sudden movement makes her eyes snap back to the vehicle form before. Her stomach drops as the doors to the truck swing open and soldiers armed to their necks pour out, spreading all over the facility.

An ambush. They knew they were coming. Jammed their comms to isolate them and hide their forces until the others entered the warehouses probably. Surrounded. They'd be surrounded in mere minutes if they didn't do something.

Her comms are useless, so she can't warn them, and can only watch in muted horror as they start to scatter around the building.

Fuck.

She can't take out the three men at the tower from here. That wouldn't stop the device and only act to reveal her position. Hands-on was the only way.

Slamming her sniper onto the strap on her back, she extracts her pistol, breaking into a harsh sprint down the hill. There was no time, she had to warn them herself. To hell with staying out of sight.

The 141...they were like family to her. Soap and Gaz's constant cheeky remarks and antics, Price's steadfast and reliable leadership, Ghost...Simon's patience and understanding, his muted passion and actions that when decoded conveyed more love than anybody had every offered her.

The day her team took a loss would not be today. Not like this. Not when she could help it.

Finding herself in the middle of the compound by ducking and staying out of view, she kneels behind a crate, unhooking one of her frag grenades, pulling the pin out with her teeth.

This would give away her position, a dangerous gamble while hostiles surrounded her from all sides, but what better way to alert battle-ready soldiers than with the bang of a grenade. A sounds they knew all to well.

She'd just have to hold her position until they could regroup. She's done tougher things before, and this was so or die right now. With the thought in mind, she steels herself and tosses out the grenade at the most densely packed area of soldiers, clenching her jaw and taking cover at the resounding bang that cracks through the air.

The gunfire follows soon after.

Her comms crackle, evidence that someone's trying to reach her, but with the jammer not sounds can be deciphered.

Soldiers yell, and fire at her location, the heavy thudding of footsteps on either side of her clueing her into their intentions to flank her sides and gun her down. Returning fire, she ducks between the crates to make her way to the radio tower, just a couple of metres away. Bullets clink and bang and ricchoet of fthe metal around her, but miraculously, she's mostly unscathed as dives behind a vehicle and takes down the three men aiming their rifles at her.

The jammer lays at the feet, blinking green.

Right in the middle of the open field. She had to get there, had to get it off so they could all communicate with each other and move smoothly. There was a higher risk of casualties if one moved without the knowledge of the others.

Unpredictability was the worst of enemies in the field.

Steeling herself for going out in the open under the inevitable spray of bullets, she unclips a smoke grenade and tosses it, holding her breath as acrid smoke obstructs everyone's vision. Stumbling into the mess, she keeps low to the ground to avoid the blind fire into the smoke and feels around for the device.

Her hands curl around the metal and she sprints back to cover.

She doesn't make it.

Their blind fire proves effective, as a bullet rips through her shoulder, another one through her calf wrenching out a choked scream from her. The smoke was slowly dissipating, and pretty soon visibility would be back and then any bullet wounds she'd sustain would not be as unfatal.

Panic claws up her throat, but years of practise allow her to swallow it down. She pulls herself up, but groans and collapses, her leg unable to support her weight and her shoulder unable to drag her across the ground.

Shit, shit.

Her breaths come ragged and uneven, her knuckles turning white with the harsh grip on the device. Changing courses, she brings the jammer close to her, focusing on it instead, turning knobs and pressing buttons.

If she bit the bullet here, she'd damn well do so making sure the others stayed alive.

The second the jammer switches off, voices filter through her comms, a flurry of mixed yells, gunfire and pounding footsteps.

"Sergeant?!" A familiar voice barks down the line, hoarse...worried? "Are you down?"

Lightheaded, feeling blood soak through her clothes, she can't bring herself to respond. The smoke starts to clear and the best she can do is shift herself behind a tree a few feet away, leaning against the thick trunk for cover while unable to grasp her weapon through the slippery bloody coating her hands.

Was it normal to have that much blood? Feeling a little delirious, she drops her weapons besides her and presses down hard on the wound on her leg, biting back a groan. Gunfire pings around her, gunpowder and smoke acrid in the air.

It's only when Ghost snaps her name through the comms does she come back to herself a little.

"I'm..." She squeezes her eyes shut trying to get her tongue to form words. "I'm down. Bleeding out near the radio tower. Fuckers jammed out comms. Ambush. Had to...had to warn you. Had to fix it." She coughs, spitting into the ground beside her as blood trickles down her chin.

Definitely not normal.

Swallowing is hard, her thoughts swim as the grass beneath her is stained crimson. Her body feels too heavy, head to light and she wonders if this is really the end.

Someone speaks through her comms, words to muddled in her head to make out. Gaz? Or was that Price? Maybe Soap? Or Simon?

God, what she wouldn't give to hear Simon again, just once. Her eyes flutter shut with a groan. Just once more. She just wants to hear that gruff voice one more time through the comms, saying her name. He's never told her he's loved her verbally, even when she expressed it herself, but words haven't ever been his strong points.

His actions spoke far far louder.

The ways he's memorised all her little routines, her favourite foods, her favourite activities, the particular way she likes to store and clean her weapons. the silent moments at night where he pulled her close and the shared a book together, the nights spent together in bed where he showed her that he was not lacking in love when it came to her.

Simon Riley had left a mark on her life that she wore with pride, and if this...this meant that he lived on another day. She grits her teeth, shallows pant soft breath as blood pools between her fingers.

Then it was damn well worth it.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

An unstoppable force by nature, Ghost is the scariest anybody's ever seen him right now.

That last comms transmission from her had made his heart practically stop in his chest, even if he was as apathetic as ever from the outside. He had called out to her again, demanded she stay awake and give a precise location but no matter how much he shouted and order through the comms he was met with a deafening silence.

Silence that suggested the worst.

Fuck, no. No way. This wasn't happening, this simply wasn't something Simon would allow to happen.

Not her. Not any of them, really, but especially not her. Not her soft smiles and meaningful glances, not when she made him feel as if he might not break everything he comes into contact with.

Not when she was the only one who's ever coaxed out Simon Riley from Ghost.

His actions grow harsher, more brutal. The moment he hears she's near the radio towers bleeding out, he's a man on a mission, and none of the others make a peep of protest as he clears the way through to her, a spartan leaving a trail of blood behind as he moves.

He does not rage. Rage implies something uncontrolled and fierce. No, this is not rage. This is something much colder, much more calculating. Every throat that he slashed with his knife, every bullet that lands home in a skull is done with precision and deadly force. He means every bit of hurt he causes, hurt that stems from his own panic at her sudden silence.

This was not rage. This was icy cold desperation disguised as cool anger.

He's the one who finds her after everybody spreads out to clear the facility.

Back to a tree, eyes closed, hands limp at her side.

She might have been sleeping if not for all the fucking blood.

Dropping down beside her, he shakes her shoulder firmly, calling out her name.

"Wake up, Sergeant." He orders, eyes raking over her figure to find the source of her injuries. His jaw ticks as he notes the two fresh wounds. She doesn't move when he extracts a rolls of gauze from his belt, doesn't flinch when he tightly wraps her injuries.

Does not wake up to notice how his hands are shaking as he ties the final knots.

"Wake up." He says, voice much lower, something deeply needing. Shifting closer, he pulls her into his arms, away from the rough bark of the tree. Her head falls to his shoulder limply, making his breath hitch, true, cold fear gripping his heart. "Wake up, sweetheart, c'mon." He urges. She's still alive as per the shallow rise and fall of her chest, but she won't fucking wake up and it's killing him, making panic claw at his throat because not her, not her, not her.

Reaching around, he pinches her sternum hard, relief slamming into him when she finally groans and whimpers, a weak hand reaching up to push his away. "That's it, love. There you go." He mutters praise, hooking an arm under her legs and hoisting her up, carrying her. "Keep those eyes open for me, yeah? Don't you dare fucking close them, you hear me?" His accent is thicker than normal

"..Simon?" She groans, barely a whisper, making his heart wretch painfully.

"It's me." He confirms, clutching her tighter as he makes his way back to the exfil he'd ordered Gaz to request. The heli stand waiting near the first warehouse, a mass of dead bodies paving the path for them to step over. "I've got you, love. Stay with me, just a little longer.

He doesn't know if she can hear him let alone understand what he's saying, but it seems to work, her groggy gaze taking in their surrounding, watching but not really seeing.

She shoves at his chest suddenly, weak but firm. "No...you gotta-they're here." She rattles in a breath that makes even him wince. "Ambush, Simon. Gotta-get yourself out."

"Fucking hell woman, you think I'd leave you?" He hisses, hiking her up closer so their bodies are pressed together. He feels a rush of anger peer through the crushing panic and worry he's beating down.

"No time." She breathes. "Leave-"

"Not another word." He warns, angry at the thought that she'd even think for one moment that he'd let her die on his watch, that he'd ever leave the one good thing in his life.

Her compliance scares him to the bone.

Simon practically runs the last few meters towards the evac heli, barking out instructions for a medic as they bring out a stretcher. Gently, an action so at odds with the flames burning through his veins, he lays her down on it, staying by her side as they hoist her inside.

The jolting makes her whimper, aggravating her injuries no doubt. "Careful," Simon demands, and a single glare from him is enough to make the team move her with much more cautiousness.

The team clamours in and it's not long before they're all in the air.

A silence is passed around the space, an acknowledgment and shared anger at her state, how she was riddled with bullets like a target because of her selfless nature to save and give.

They hadn't gotten the intel, but Simon has never given less of a shit about anything before, not when she's laying next to him pale and trembling, looking up at him as if he might be the one to make her pain go away.

May God strike him dead if he doesn't try his fucking hardest.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The steady beep on a heart monitor and the sharp smell of antiseptic is what slowly brings her back to the living world. She feels...

Well she feels like shit.

That's kind a given though, judging by how she determines by the scratchy sheets under her that she's in a hospital bed. One would be more disorientated by waking up like this, but she's seen her fare share of white bedspreads and jello cups.

Finally gathering up the courage to blink her heavy eyes open, she squints at the ceiling light, slowly getting her bearings.

They were...on a mission. She tries to recall. Warehouse. Men. Jammer...

The jammer! Were the others alright? All she remembers is passing out by the tree and-what else?

Alarm ringing through her, she moves to sit up but immediately groans at her body protesting, her limbs burning at the movement. Shoulder and leg tight with stitches, she tries to force herself to sit up when a large, warm hard pushes her back down.

"Easy does it. Lay still for me." The familiar voice washes away the alarm and when she slowly, groggily turns her head, there sits the one person she wanted to see.

Simon sits beside her bed, looking ragged and poorly even beneath his mask. She can see it by the tension in his shoulders.

"Wh-" She trails off, coughing and wincing at the pain in her dry throat. There's a rustling, and then a hand at the back of her neck, guiding her lips to a cup full of cool water. "Drink." Simon says simply, helping her swallow the liquid until she pushes on his hand.

"What happened?" She finally manages, meeting his eyes. "You look...like shit. You okay?"

Amusement may have flickered into those eyes of his, but it's next to nothing with the other concoction of worry in his eyes.

For someone so stoic, he had very expressive eyes if you knew how to read them.

"Am I okay?" He stares in disbelief. "Considering I didn't get shot twice and nearly bleed out, I'd say I'm doing better than you."

"Ever the comedian." Her joke doesn't crack a smile from him and that's when she knows something is truly wrong. "Simon what-"

The scrape of his chair cuts her off as he stands abruptly, moving over to her side. He seems hesitant for a split second, arms pausing as they reach out.

He decides to push away the doubt, however, because moments later, strong arms are wrapped around her, pulling her into him. She relaxes at the familiar scent of him, of his clothes as he tucks his chin over her head.

His heart is racing under his cheek, her fist loosely gripping his shirt.

She knows he'll speak in time, that she just has to wait for him to gather the words and decide how to express them out loud. So she does exactly that. She waits while he regulates himself, gathers his thoughts.

His arms tighten around her. "Thought I lost you." He says, and if it had been anybody but her, they might have missed the slight tremor in his voice. "When I saw you bleeding out against that tree...Fuck, I thought you were gone."

"Not that easily." She hums, pressing into him further. "Never than easily."

"Better fucking not be." It coaxes a hoarse giggle from her, what he growls in her ear.

"I'm alright, Simon." She assures him gently. "Alive and kicking."

He nods against her head minutely, his lips pressing against her head through his mask, a gesture that makes her melt because if Simon was resorting to such a thing he must have really had a scare. He hated PDA and although they were the only ones in the room, normally they reserved this kind of intimacy for their own rooms when they're alone together.

He stays like that for a while, convincing himself that she was there, that she was alive and breathing and in his arms and untouchable as of now. All the while she runs a soothing hand up and down his strong arms, mumbling assurances of their safety.

She'd do it again in a heartbeat, would put herself in harms way to save her team, but as she sits there pressed against him, the sun spilling into the room warming it with it's rays, she can't help but think of how thankful she is to have felt this again.

To have the chance to continue experiencing the protective love of Simon Riley.

Requests Are Open!

(25/06/2023)

[dark-konohagakure2]

Request: could you maybe write about Kurapika obsessed with breeding his sister to restore his clan?

tw: incest, brother/sister, dubcon, breeding, manipulation, obsession, rough sex, mating press, isolation, victim blaming

All characters depicted are 18+

Kurapika has never been the same since the entire Kurta Clan was slaughtered by the spiders, except for him and his younger sister, ever since that fateful day he's been obsessed with two things; retrieving the Scarlet Eyes, and protecting his sister, his biggest responsibility, his only family left, his entire world.

His obsession with vengeance dies down slightly once he meets his friends, but it never fully goes away, always being on his mind when he's away from the group, and the obsession will reignite tenfold after the incident in Yorknew which nearly got his precious friends killed, and with that his obsession with his sister will increase too.

Kurapika will keep his sister on an excruciatingly short leash from that point onward, never letting her out of his sight for prolong periods of time, not wanting to risk his dear sister's safety. Unfortunately for her, Kurapika will begin to project his desire to restore his clan onto his sister, deciding to use her as a vessel for that goal.

He isn't a horrible brute that would harm his sister for his lust, even if he's going to have to get a bit rough with her due to her struggling and squirming, Kurapika will speak gently to her, even when he's holding her down, thighs pinned against her heaving chest as he fucks her into her raw.

"Fuck, p-please stop moving... This is for your own good, for the good of our clan... You don't want to be a failure to our clan, do you..?"

Kurapika is fucking her for procreation, not pleasure, so he isn't very considerate of how rough he's being when he slams his hips against her's. He doesn't go out of his way to cause her pain and discomfort, instead seeing any discomfort she voices as an unfortunate but wholly necessary side effect of their clan's restoration.

He hates to have to hurt his sister, but she just won't stop moving and struggling under his assault, all that crying and thrashing is making it hard for him to be gentle with her, so he'll have to pin her down with all his weight as he fucks her. Having to resort to such drastic measures because of her uncooperative behavior hurts him a lot more than it hurts her, and he's sure to let her know that.

The sensation of both fucking his own sister and taking the first step to rebuild his clan is too much for Kurapika to ignore, his usually black eyes glowing a vibrant scarlet from the intense feelings he's experiencing, both physical and emotional, and when Kurapika sees that his sister's own eyes have also turned a bright scarlet, the same as his own, it turns Kurapika on even more.

Kurapika loves his sister, he really and truly does, even if his actions speak otherwise. How could he not love her? She's his only family left and the only remnant of their slaughtered blan besides himself. She's their clan's future, and he'll be sure to let her know just how much he adores her when she's filling her up with cum.

"Shhh, shhh, just take it... I know it hurts for now, but you're a good girl, I know you can take it, that's why your big brother loves you so much..."

Kurapika might be obsessive, but he isn't delusional, he knows that his sister is likely going to fear and resent him after this, but he's also an optimist at heart, and he believes that her opinion will change once she brings a baby or two into the world.

[godsfavdarling]

How could you?

my masterlist, part 2

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (established relationship) words: 2,3k summary: You go to Spencer's apartment, only to witness a shocking betrayal that shatters your world. warnings: angst, hurt, spoilers for season 15! a/n: this was one of the ideas for the later chapters of my full story 'Keep Holding On' (completed and available here), but there wasn't really a place for it. so, I decided to just make it into a one-shot with a gender-neutral reader!

You and Spencer have been together for a few years now, your relationship a patchwork of late-night conversations, lazy weekends spent on a couch with books, and long nights in each other's arms.

Although his job isn't easy and you don't get him to yourself as much as you'd like to, you wouldn't change a thing. He and the love you share mean everything to you.

In the quiet moments when you're alone, you find yourself marveling at how unexpected and yet perfectly fitting your love story is. You never thought this could happen to you. 

You never let yourself believe that there would be a man like Spencer loving you and accepting every fiber of your being.

Spencer's presence in your life is like a gentle breeze on a hot summer's day, soothing and comforting. His unwavering support and understanding make even the toughest days bearable. And when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, you feel a sense of belonging that you've never known before.

You cherish the simple moments shared over cups of coffee in the morning or stolen kisses in the middle of the day. In Spencer's eyes, you see a reflection of your own hopes and dreams, and in his laughter, you find the melody of your heart's desires.

As you drift off to sleep each night, nestled in Spencer's embrace, you offer a silent prayer of gratitude for the love that fills your days and the warmth that fills your heart. 

In him, you've found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, a soulmate who completes you in ways you never knew were possible. And for that, you will always be thankful.

There's an unspoken language that exists only between you and Spencer. It's a language of love, trust, and understanding that transcends words.

You marvel at how effortlessly Spencer seems to know what you need, even before you do. His intuition is uncanny, his gestures of affection tender and sincere. 

Whether it's a simple touch on the small of your back as he passes by or a reassuring squeeze of your hand when you're feeling uncertain, Spencer has an innate ability to make everything feel right.

You trust him with your deepest fears, your wildest dreams, and every fragile piece of your heart.

In his arms, you find sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world, a safe harbor where you can be your truest self without fear of judgment or rejection.

And as you navigate the challenges of life together, you're constantly reminded of just how perfect Spencer is in your eyes. His kindness knows no bounds, his patience infinite. 

But it's not just his virtues that make him perfect; it's the way he loves you, wholly and unconditionally. In Spencer, you've found a partner who sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all, and loves you all the more fiercely because of them.

Now as you climb the stairs to Spencer's apartment, your heart flutters. Spencer has just started his 30 days of obligatory sabbatical, and you're looking forward to spending more time together now that his only obligation is his teaching job. You've picked up takeout on the way, eager to share a quiet evening together.

But as you open the door, your excitement turns to shock and disbelief.

There, before you, is Spencer, locked in a passionate embrace with JJ. Her hands are cupping his cheeks, their lips pressed together in a kiss that sends a jolt of pain through your chest.

Time seems to stand still as the bags of food slip from your fingers, crashing to the floor with a dull thud. You can't tear your eyes away from the scene before you, the weight of betrayal crushing down on you like a ton of bricks.

A thousand thoughts race through your mind, each one more painful than the last.

How could Spencer do this to you? How long has this been going on? And most importantly, how could you have been so blind to the truth?

Your heart feels like it's been ripped from your chest, shattered into a million pieces by the revelation before you. The love and trust you once shared with Spencer now lay in ruins at your feet, leaving you feeling empty and alone in a world that suddenly seems cold and indifferent.

As Spencer and JJ finally break apart, their eyes widening in shock at your sudden appearance, you feel a surge of anger rising within you. But beneath the anger lies a deep well of hurt and sadness, a pain that cuts to the very core of your being.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and flee from the apartment, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to make sense of the betrayal that has shattered your world.

Everything spins around you in a blur of tears and confusion, you turn and run down the stairs, desperate to escape the pain and betrayal that threaten to consume you.

Each step feels like a marathon, your legs heavy with the weight of sorrow and disbelief.

But just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, your vision swimming with tears, you stumble, your foot catching on the edge of a step. You plummet forward, the ground rushing up to meet you with terrifying speed.

In that split second before impact, a pair of strong arms wraps around you, pulling you back from the brink of disaster. You gasp in shock and relief as Spencer catches you, his grip firm and steady.

For a moment, you cling to him like a lifeline, your body trembling with the force of your emotions.

You can't breathe, can't think, can't comprehend the enormity of what has just happened.

As you collapse onto the stairs, your sobs echoing in the empty stairwell, Spencer kneels beside you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

He reaches out to touch you, but you flinch away, unable to bear the thought of his hands on your skin.

"Please," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Let me explain. It wasn't what you think. I didn't...I didn't do anything."

But his words fall on deaf ears as you struggle to make sense of the chaos swirling inside your head.

How could Spencer betray you like this? How could he let someone else touch him in that way?

As the truth begins to dawn on you, a wave of anger washes over you, hot and relentless. You push yourself away from Spencer, your chest heaving with the effort to draw breath.

"Don't," you choke out, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't touch me."

But Spencer refuses to give up, his eyes burning with determination as he reaches for you once more. "Please," he begs, his voice raw with emotion. "Let me explain. It wasn't me. It was her."

You place a trembling hand on your chest, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggle to catch your breath.

"How could you?" you utter, your voice barely above a whisper, the words heavy with accusation and pain.

Spencer's eyes are full of anguish as tears well up in his eyes. He reaches out to you, his hand hovering in the air between you, a silent plea for forgiveness that you're not sure you're ready to grant.

But before you can respond, JJ appears at the top of the stairs, her mouth open as if she's about to say something. But then, with a quick shake of her head, she closes her mouth and walks past the two of you without a word.

You stare after her in disbelief, your mind reeling with confusion and hurt.

You struggle to make sense of the situation. You knew of the hostage situation with JJ and how she had professed her love for Spencer. But you also remember how Spencer immediately came to you, confessing everything and reassuring you of his love for you.

He spent the whole night telling you every detail of what happened, assuring you that his heart belonged to you and you alone. He made it clear that you were the one he loved, not JJ.

So what happened? How could he be kissing her now, after everything he said and everything you've been through together?

With a shaky breath, you push yourself up from the stairs, your muscles tense with the effort to contain the storm raging within you. You want to flee, to distance yourself from him and the shattered remnants of your trust.

But before you can take a single step, Spencer's voice cuts through the tumultuous haze of your thoughts, pleading with you to stay. His words are a desperate plea for understanding, for a chance to explain the inexplicable.

"Please," he implores, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't leave. I need to explain. I swear, it wasn't what it looked like. You have to believe me."

You hesitate, torn between the desire to escape and the need for answers. Despite the overwhelming pain coursing through your veins, there's a part of you that still craves the truth, no matter how agonizing it may be.

You groan loudly, the weight of the situation bearing down on you like a leaden blanket. Your mind races with a million questions, each one more painful than the last.

But for now, you're too overwhelmed to process anything.

With another loud groan, you turn and begin to make your way back upstairs, your steps heavy with exhaustion and despair.

You can feel Spencer's eyes boring into your back, his silent plea for you to stay echoing in the empty stairwell.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you don't look back, you enter the apartment and your only thought is to find a moment of solace in the solitude of the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you shut the door behind you, the click of the lock a final barrier between you and the chaos that threatens to consume you.

And as you sit there, trembling and broken, you realize that there's something about Spencer, something in the depths of his eyes that compelled you to stay, to hear him out.

It's a trust that runs deeper than words.

As you emerge from the bathroom after a few minutes, the weight of the silence between you and Spencer hangs heavy in the air.

You find him on the couch, his leg shaking uncontrollably, his fingers fidgeting nervously. His face is etched with worry and pain, mirroring the tumult of emotions raging inside you both.

He gave you space, just as he always did. It's one of the things you've always admired about him, his ability to recognize when you needed time to process and heal.

But now, as you sit in the armchair nearby, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you can't help but feel the need for answers, for some semblance of understanding in the chaos that surrounds you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Spencer speaks. His voice is hoarse with emotion, the words tumbling out in a rush as if he's been holding them back for far too long.

"She just showed up," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "Out of nowhere, she started talking about how she loves me and how she was stupid for ignoring it for so long. She said she couldn't pretend anymore..."

You listen in stunned silence, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. So it wasn't Spencer who initiated the kiss, it was JJ.

But why?

As Spencer continues to speak, his words are a desperate attempt to make sense of the madness that has engulfed your lives, you find yourself drawn to him, to the vulnerability etched into every line of his face.

Despite the pain and betrayal that still lingers between you, there's a part of you that can't help but empathize with his plight.

As Spencer falls silent, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness or understanding, you find yourself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Hurt, betrayal, and confusion war with a lingering sense of empathy and love for the man sitting before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and collect your thoughts. "Spencer," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I don't know what to say."

His eyes widen in anticipation, his expression a mixture of hope and fear. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "I know I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I need time," you finally say, your voice trembling with emotion. "I need time to process everything, to figure out where we go from here."

Spencer nods solemnly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting for you."

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself up from the armchair, your limbs feeling like lead. "I'm going to go," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "I just... I need some space."

Spencer nods, his gaze following you as you make your way to the door. "I'll be here," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you."

You pause in the doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. "I love you too," you murmur, your voice choked with emotion.

And with that, you step out into the cool night air, the weight of the world heavy on your shoulders.

As you make your way home, you can't help but wonder will it ever be the same between the two of you?

[fluentmoviequoter]

hey I was wondering if you can do a Tim Bradford x reader where Tim and Isabel were working together and the reader saw them laughing together and she turned around asking someone who that was and she knows all about Isabel but scared that Tim would leave her to be with Isabel and she said overthinking because she just found out she was pregnant and scared Tim would leave

Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Warnings: pregnant!wife!reader, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, Angela (yes, she gets a warning because she is amazing (and threatens to kill for you)). 2.0k+ words

Don't Leave Me for Her

Tim looks happy. You stand by your car, leaning against the hood as you watch him.

“Hey,” Angela calls, walking to your side. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” you answer, not looking away from Tim. “Who is that?”

Angela follows your line of sight, frowning when she sees what’s keeping your attention.

“Uh, that’s Isabel,” she answers quietly. “They’re working a case together. She had some intel that narcotics found really useful.”

Tim doesn’t work in narcotics, you think. So why is he standing with his ex-wife?

You take a deep breath, your hand resting against your stomach as you pick at your shirt. Tim starts laughing, leaning toward Isabel as she smiles at him. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you begin overthinking. Tim looks happy, happier than he ever has with me.

“C’mon,” Angela murmurs, wrapping her hand around your forearm as she leads you toward the door. “I need someone to keep me company.”

Nodding, you follow her, watching Tim until you can’t see him anymore. Your thoughts quickly turn to a fear that Tim will leave you to return to Isabel.

“Alright, spill,” Angela says, pushing you toward her chair.

You shake your head, looking down as you tug at your shirt again. “Just weird seeing them together, I guess.”

“Tim loves you,” Angela assures you. “He’s just working.”

“Doesn’t laugh like that with you, does he?”

Angela doesn’t answer, looking past you as Tim enters the station. He finds you immediately, walking toward you, oblivious to Angela glaring at him.

“Hey,” Tim greets, smiling at you. “What are you doing here?”

Seeing something I’m probably not supposed to. “I was passing by and thought I’d say hi. Hi,” you reply.

Tim’s brows furrow, glancing over at Angela quickly.

“But, I should probably get going, I know you’re all busy,” you add, standing and straightening your shirt.

“Um, okay,” Tim says, noticing how you avoid stepping too close to him. “I’ll see you tonight?”

You nod, though you don’t look sure of yourself. When Angela nods, you tilt your head toward your shoulder and take a deep breath. Tim can read your expressions well, but he hasn’t cracked the code of wordless ‘girl-speak’ yet.

“Are you okay?” he whispers as you turn back toward him.

“Yeah, just tired. I’ll see you tonight.”

While you quickly kiss his cheek, your thoughts begin to swim again. If Isabel had kissed him, he probably would have responded differently; when you do it, he stands there and accepts your affection, nothing more than a hand holding your hip to steady you. Angela would not be happy to know what you’re thinking, but the moment you get in your car, you fall into a spiral of heartbreaking thoughts, and in every scenario you imagine, you end up alone while Tim laughs with Isabel.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim calls you nearly a dozen times before you turn your phone off. Sitting in your quiet bedroom, you look at a framed picture of you and Tim. You’re smiling at the camera while Tim’s focus is on you. You saw how he looked at Isabel today, completely different. His smile, laugh, eyes, it's all different with her.

You know that first loves are different, everyone does, yet you let the fact that Tim never talks about Isabel anymore lead you to believe he was wholly in love with you.

You let your guard down. His sweet smile and kisses distracted you, and you never noticed how easy it would be for him to choose her.

A few tears roll over your cheeks, and you set the picture to the side, moving your hands to cover your stomach instead.

The front door closes, and you rush to wipe your face dry, pulling your shirt away from your skin before Tim steps into the bedroom.

“Hey, I’ve been calling,” he breathes, walking toward you. “What’s going on?”

“I guess my phone died,” you lie. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just got a little worried.” He kneels beside the bed and looks at you. Not like he looked at Isabel, though. “Have you been crying?”

“I- uh- I saw one of those animal shelter commercials with the sad dogs.”

Tim chuckles, his lips quirking up into a smile as he hugs you. “You’re sure you’re okay, though? Nothing bothering you?”

“No. I’m okay,” you reply, turning in Tim's hold because it may be the last time.

“I was thinking that we should go out on Friday. I get off a little earlier, so we could go out for dinner and drinks if you want.”

“Dinner sounds good.”

“Lopez wanted to do a double date, but that always ends with me listening to Wesley while she steals your attention,” Tim adds, moving his hand over your shoulder.

Like Isabel steals yours? The thought is unwelcome and brings more tears to your eyes; you’re emotional and tired and growing more heartbroken each moment.

“Hey, isn’t there a game on tonight?” you ask, hoping Tim is as easily distracted by sports as by Isabel.

“I don’t think so. Trying to get rid of me?”

The opposite, but it feels like a losing battle.

✯✯✯✯✯

You call in sick to work the next day. It’s not a complete lie, though the truth is that you’re making yourself sick by overthinking, worrying, and constantly fighting tears. Tim left early this morning for work, and every time you think of him, you see him laughing with Isabel, then realize that she makes him happier than you do.

If this had happened a year ago, you would have talked to Tim about it. But now, there is much more at stake, and losing him would be the same as losing a part of yourself.

You need to talk to someone, and only one person understands the depth of your emotion because she knows at least half of your situation. After dialing Angela’s number, you cancel the call and decide to visit her in person. For the first time, you hope that you don’t run into Tim at the station.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Ange?” you ask, walking to her desk.

Angela looks up from a folder, her eyes widening when she sees you. You’re sure your face is red and teary, and your fiddling fingers are concerning, but you’re concerned, too.

“Can we talk?” you ask.

“Of course. Come with me.”

She leads you to an empty office, and you lean against the desk as she closes the door.

“What’s going on? Are you okay? If Tim did something, I will kill him and they’ll never be able to prove it,” she rambles.

You chuckle sadly before promising, “I’m okay. Mostly.”

Angela nods, moving to sit beside you as she takes one of your hands. “Is this about Isabel and Tim working together?”

You nod, and she squeezes your hand.

“Not just that, though,” you whisper.

“He really does love you; I didn’t just say that to make you feel better.”

“I know he does, but…”

“You think he still loves her, don’t you?”

“I don’t see how he couldn’t,” you argue, sniffing as a tear rolls over your cheek.

“What else is going on?” Angela asks.

You move your hand toward your stomach, and she gasps, grabbing your other forearm as she stands.

“Really?” she asks excitedly.

The door opens, and Tim stops when he sees you, his eyes fixed on you as his hands flex at his sides. 

“Really what?” he asks.

“I think you two should talk,” Angela says softly.

You shake your head, and she whispers, “Trust me. You need to tell him all of it.”

She walks past Tim, pulling the door closed behind her. Tim stands in front of you, setting his hand on your hip and rubbing it gently.

“Tell me all of what?” he asks. “You know you can talk to me about everything.”

Nodding, you try to believe him.

“I just- I’ve been thinking about us,” you begin. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah, we’re great. Aren’t we?”

You shrug, chewing on your inner cheek as more tears gather at your waterline.

“We’re not, are we?” Tim asks softly, gently wiping your tears away. “What’s going on?”

Someone knocks, and you lean back from Tim, but he follows your movement.

“Tim?” Isabel asks from outside. “Are you in there?”

Tim ducks his head to meet your eyes, but you push his hand off your hip and point to the door. 

He sighs and pulls it open, asking, “What?”

Isabel’s brows raise at his tone, and you watch them, though you can’t see much besides Tim’s back.

“We got another tip, the drug buy is going down in thirty minutes,” she explains.

“Then tell narcotics, I’m in the middle of something.”

“What’s more important than this?”

“My wife,” Tim snaps, closing the door and turning toward you again.

“Do you still love her?” you whisper, looking up at him.

Tim freezes, staring at you as he repeats the question to himself. He realizes how this must look to you, though your reaction seems too intense for this to be the only problem.

“No. I love you,” Tim promises, taking your hands. “I loved Isabel once, but you are everything to me.”

“I saw you laughing with her yesterday.”

“She-“

“You seemed happy, and I want you to be happy, but I also don’t want you to leave me. I want to make you happy.”

Tim releases your hand, placing his hand under your chin to tilt your face toward his.

“Hey, look at me,” Tim demands, though his voice and touch are softer than usual. “I am never leaving you. You make me happier than anyone else in the world. Happier than I was with Isabel, even though there is no comparison between you. I’m sorry that I made you feel this way.”

“I was just overthinking it,” you mumble, looking at his collar rather than his face. “I didn’t want to do it alone if you left me.”

“Do what alone?”

Licking your lips, you look back at his eyes to say, “I’m pregnant.”

Tim’s smile grows slowly, and you can’t help but laugh when his hands move to your stomach.

“You’re pregnant?” he repeats reverently.

“Yes, I am. You’re going to be a dad, Sergeant Bradford.”

Tim bends to kiss you, one hand remaining on your barely-there baby bump as the other cups the back of your neck. 

“That’s why you’ve been messing with your shirt so much, and why you didn't want to go out for drinks,” Tim realizes quietly.

“You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you. Just like I knew you weren’t okay yesterday and this morning, I just didn’t want to push you.”

You smile at Tim, wishing you had remembered how amazing he is and chosen to talk to him rather than overthink and grow scared of him leaving you. Someone knocks on the door and Tim groans.

“I know you’re in there,” Angela calls. “Open up.”

Tim shakes his head as he opens the door. You smile and nod at Angela, and she claps her hands together in front of her chest before hugging you.

“We’re having a baby!” Angela cheers.

“Uh, no, we are having a baby,” Tim corrects, pointing between himself and you.

“You made her cry, Timothy.”

“I apologized.”

Angela looks at you with narrowed eyes, and you nod.

“Then shared custody it is,” Angela decides.

“Do I get the baby at some point?” you ask.

“You have it for nine months,” Tim argues. “I get it after.”

“What makes you more worthy than me?” Angela asks.

“It has my DNA, Lopez.”

“Tim?” Isabel asks, approaching the open door. “Are you sure you don’t want in on this?”

“Yeah, I’m busy, but thanks for helping,” he answers. After Isabel walks away, Tim looks at you. “She made me laugh by telling me that whatever had changed since she went to rehab was good for me. That was you.”

“Wow,” Angela drawls. “Tell the love of your life, the pregnant love of your life, that you were laughing at her. That’s not a good way to get custody.”

You laugh, leaning against Tim as he pulls you close. He truly is the love of your life, and no matter how much you overthink, you know deep down that he’s yours forever.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Could I request Dadvi after the war, (wishful thinking, he just needed to heal and learn how to walk again after I healed) he has children outside of paradise? He fall in love with someone in the medical field. Please and thank you

think my heart would melt if i ever saw levi playing with his toddler ksjdfksdjf

Needy Little Brat | 2K Follower Event | Post-War Dadvi Drabble

✧ word count ➼ ~800 ✧ notes ➼ post-war, fluff, my headcanon that levi can still walk but with a limp and uses the wheelchair as a mobility aid

You stepped out of the shower, pulling your shirt on over your head, immediately frowning once you heard your husband cursing across the hallway in the living room.

You walked over to see what it was that got Levi grumpy, knowing that it could range from something as simple as his tea leaves being steeped for too long all the way up to something catastrophic like the house getting set on fire.

You sighed as you saw him walking across the room from the dining table over towards the couch. His limp was a bit more noticeable than usual and you could see the small frown line on his forehead that resulted from him trying to ignore the pain that was undoubtedly shooting through his leg.

You remembered how stubborn Levi was when the war first ended. He had accepted the idea that his knee would never fully heal, but struggled with gauging where his limit was in terms of pain tolerance. Luckily, he had you to call him out on his bullshit, noting that if he kept pushing himself, then he was going to end up hurting himself more and end up being even more pissed than he already was. Plus, the fact that you were a combat medic helped with navigating his recovery.

Still, he was stubborn and refused to stay seated even though he was clearly in pain.

"You know, if you need to sit down or use the wheelchair, then quit being stubborn and just use it," you insisted with a sigh, unfolding his wheelchair and wheeling it over.

"Kinda hard to sit still when there's this little shit running around," he grumbled.

You followed his gaze and then understood why he was forcing himself to walk around despite his knee likely flaring up.

While your child had been calmly playing near the couch when you had stepped into the shower, she was now unsteadily wandering around the living room, with no regard for any tripping hazards or the coffee table that she was now tall enough to bump into.

She finally noticed Levi glaring at her, with her face lighting up as she began to run towards the two of you, immediately tripping over her own two feet.

Before you even got a chance to react, Levi had already leapt forward to catch her so that she didn't faceplant into the ground.

While you could clearly tell that he was in pain from the sudden movement, your daughter clearly did not put the pieces together, beginning to babble as she grabbed at Levi's arms.

Sighing again, you bent over and picked her up from the ground, motioning your head towards the wheelchair to indicate to Levi that you had brought it out for him if he needed it.

Now that he no longer had to worry about your child accidentally hurting herself for running around before she could properly keep her balance, he got into the mobility aid, clearly exasperated by the fact that your child was just as stubborn as he was when it came to moving around when she wasn't supposed to.

Still, he couldn't blame her. She was a kid exploring the world, but he'd be damned if he didn't admit to himself that he felt wholly unprepared when it came to having an actual child that wasn't just the 104th goofing off or hanging out around Gabi or Falco that were already able to take care of themselves.

His eyes flashed up towards you, his gaze falling on the toddler in your arms that was now looking more distressed as she reached out for him, trying to wriggle out of your arms.

"Alright, alright, calm down," you scolded, securing your grip on her so that she didn't fall headfirst back down to the ground.

"She's just as clingy as you are," he muttered, the corner of his lip raising into a small smirk as he saw the somewhat bashful look on your face as your cheeks began to heat up.

"Well, she's just as stubborn as you are," you retorted as you plopped her into his lap after he got settled.

She immediately calmed down, giggling as Levi began to poke at her belly after calling her a "needy little brat", which she found absolutely hilarious despite not knowing what he was actually saying.

You watched as she began trying to grab at Levi's hand, which he was drawing back at the last second, before going back in and allowing her to grab at him again, before drawing his hand back again, unable to hide the amused expression steadily forming on his face. Eventually, he gave in, allowing her to firmly grab at his thumb.

"Quick reflexes, this one," he pointed out, giving a nod of approval, which made you snort in disbelief.

"Wonder where she gets that from."

[miafeystits]

i’ve been revisting tgaa recently and i’m once again thinking about my most strongly held belief re: 2-4 and 2-5, which is that for all kazuma hid from ryuu and susato about why he was going to great britain and how he got that opportunity (and for all that ryuu & susato are within their rights to feel hurt by his omissions), kazuma’s actions also demonstrate that they are probably the two people that kazuma trusts most on this earth. he is also just dogshit at communicating this in a way that is emotionally legible to anyone but himself

like, should kazuma have told them what his real intentions were himself (rather than just letting it come out in court) at some point before everything really started to go down? yeah, probably—but that’s operating in a world in which kazuma is a wholly different person, with wholly different life experiences. by the time we meet him, kazuma feels with his whole heart and soul that he can’t tell anyone anything about his actual goals, and even if he wanted to i don’t think he would know how. looking at how kazuma himself talks about what brought him to britain after becoming an amnesiac:

“i can’t tell anyone about this” is SO fundamental to kazuma’s attitude towards this mission that it’s one of the few things he remembers even when he can’t remember his own name. and why would he have ever thought otherwise? in kazuma’s experience, what happened to his father is something that cannot be talked about. the only two people who had knowledge of genshin’s true fate lied to kazuma’s face about it:

& from later in that same convo:

even if kazuma understands their reasoning and doesn’t fault them for it, that doesn’t change the lesson he learned from these experiences: what happened to your father is something unspeakable, if not possibly dangerous and/or inadvisable TO speak about, and broaching the topic will get you nowhere; if you want to learn more, you have to go to the source and find out the truth yourself. the only solution is to go to great britain—therefore, you cannot act in any way that will prevent you from getting to great britain.

this is compounded by the fact that, in order to be allowed to go on the trip at all, kazuma has to agree to the assassin exchange, something that he also cannot tell anyone about or risk everything he’s worked for, making explicit his already existing assumption that he cannot ever speak about what’s going on with him

so of course he doesn’t tell ryuu or susato what’s really going on before they leave. why would he? it would put him in danger of losing his chance to discover what actually happened to his father and, furthermore, would put both ryuu and susato at risk were they discovered to be his co-conspirators.

we can see a similar logic in why kazuma decides to keep the knowledge of ryuu stowing away in his cabin from susato:

from his perspective, he’s not acting out of a lack of trust in susato here but out of a desire to protect her from the consequences of his actions. i argue that we can read kazuma’s decision to conceal his true motivations for coming to britain in a similar way—it’s not that he doesn’t trust ryuu or susato with that knowledge, rather he sees himself as protecting them from being overly involved in case something goes wrong; their lack of knowledge acts as something of a shield, allowing them to maintain their innocence even when kazuma can’t, or won’t, maintain his own

something that’s also notable about kazuma’s decision to conceal the truth in these situations is that in both cases, the information that kazuma is concealing will inevitably come out, and he knows this. in the case of ryuu stowing away, they can only really conceal this from susato until they get to great britain—there’s no sense from either of them that they intend to somehow hide this from her the whole trip, just until she’s out of danger of getting in trouble for their actions. similarly, although we can’t say exactly how kazuma intended to act when they were in britain had everything gone smoothly, i can’t imagine that he was ever operating under the assumption that susato and ryuu would never learn about his father or kazuma’s real intentions for coming to great britain in the first place. (i don’t think he ever would have told them about the assassin exchange thing unless he absolutely had to, though; it would put them both in too much danger.)

and that’s what i mean when i say that kazuma bringing ryuu and susato with him at all is a profound act of trust on his part—kazuma is going to great britain to confront the worst, most shameful thing that has ever happened to him and his family, to uncover a possibly ugly truth that he’s literally never spoken about to anyone, and he trusts ryuu and susato enough to be the ones by his side as he does it

this represents, from my point of view, both a deep trust in their abilities (knowledge of the legal system (in susato’s case)/english/talent as a lawyer (in ryuu’s case)—i’m not gonna argue ryuu’s potential to be a great defense attorney is completely absent from kazuma’s thought process here) but also an incredible trust in them as people, as his friends. he asks them along knowing they’re going to see him at his worst, and trusts that they’ll stay by his side anyway

of course, that doesn’t mean it feels like trust, from ryuu and susato’s perspective. and i don’t blame them for feeling otherwise! but from kazuma’s side of things, bringing susato and ryuu with him is basically the emotional equivalent of offering up his beating heart on a silver platter—it’s an act of profound vulnerability from a man who has spent his entire life incredibly guarded. it’s also not enough. & that’s the greatest tragedy of the whole thing to me

[pit-and-the-pen]

At Least I Keep His Eyes in My Life

Day 2 of @erisweekofficial: Childhood/legacy - You and Eris weren’t meant to be, but the red hair definitely doesn’t come from your family…..

(Also, I’m picturing Asher around like 4-5 years old, i know very little about kids this age so sorry if it seems all over the place)

Warnings: Slightly sexual content, emotional infidelity, cheating, childbirth

WC: 5.7k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears (find the post here)

You were giggling like you were a teenager again. Sneaking out in the dead of night, cloak pulled tight against your head to block out the sparse light from the lanterns on the street. The temple was within your sight now and your heart was beating into your throat. You could very well get killed for what you were about to do but it would be worth it. 

The door was slightly opened, leaving you the opportunity to slip in without making a sound. The tiny light seeping through a door in the back led you to where you needed to go. 

The room was small, the fire keeping out the chill of the winter night. Those amber eyes filled with a softness reserved only for you as you walked into the room. Your smile was so wide that it made your jaw hurt, but nothing could wipe it from your face. Not when you finally dropped your cloak and saw the tears well in Eris’ eyes. The emerald dress you had worn on your first date all those years ago had you blushing as you remembered how it felt for his lips to be on yours for the first time.

You had never been happier in all your life than when the priestess joined your hands with that red ribbon. When you felt the pattern burn into your finger, right where your ring would sit once Eris was High Lord. Promises of your life together flowed from your lips like honey wine. Sweet and warm in the small space. Eris took your face between his hands like you were the most delicate flower in the world, his lips tasting like the tart red wine you two shared with each other. When you looked into his eyes, you saw your whole life. Your past together, your present joy, and all the love the future promised to bring you. 

That night was the best of your life. Eris whispering every promise on your skin as you too celebrated in your own way. Wrapped in each other until it was impossible to tell where you ended and he started. But the morning came too fast. The sun wiping away the joy as you realized you would have to go back to court and pretend that you didn’t know every piece of Eris’ soul. The scent shield hiding all evidence that you were Eris’ and he was yours. You parted with a long kiss that was tinged with sadness. But also the reminder that you would see him again once the sun set. The only time you were free to love him unashamedly. 

------

You should have known the mother was being far too kind to you. You should be grateful that you ever got to pretend that Eris was yours. Be grateful for that one little moment of happiness you had been granted. It was more than you ever deserved in this life. 

Eris had been walking with you through the long hallways of the Autumn court palace. Your laughter flitting through the empty space, carrying through the halls like a symphony that was all of Eris’ composition. 

But something suddenly felt very wrong. Eris had gone wholly still next to you, his joke dying on his tongue. You looked at him and could only watch in horror as you followed his eye line. He dropped your hand quickly, letting it hang limply by your side devoid of his calming warmth. It was like you could see that golden thread as it stretched across the room. Tying Eris not to you, but to some other lady of the court. Her eyes were wide as saw the same string that tied her to Eris, to your husband, at the same time he did. Your heart shattered on the floor as the female in front of you all but squealed with joy. There was not a touch of warmth coming off of Eris right now. Too frozen to go after the girl that was inevitably running to tell her friends what had just happened. You wanted to run after her, to beg her to be silent but your begging would only prompt her to tell more people. So you only stood in the wallway, watching as every thought of your future came shattering down around you. 

Your own mating bond snapped not long after. Only adding to the agony that seemed to follow your every breath. Throwing the final handful of dirt on the possibility of any future with Eris in it. You had been visiting the day court for a personal matter. Seeing an old friend's new babe. The feeling of love that the couple shared pushed you towards one of the many bars in day. 

You never assumed you would have a mate. The thought of ever loving someone the way you loved Eris, of being tied to someone like that was utterly ridiculous. 

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

Eris and you had snuck away for the second time in as many days. With his mating ceremony rapidly approaching, there was less and less time for the two of you to be together alone. He traced over the spot on your finger where your marriage ceremony mark was, the one that proved to you exactly where his heart laid.

“We should just run away. Leave all of this.” Eris muttered, eyes locked on those swirling patterns.

“He would find you and you know it.”

You didn’t have to say who. Eris’ father, while slightly disappointed about the outcome of the mating bond, was just happy it was within the nobility of Autumn. 

“No one could change how I feel about you. Mating bond or not, it will always be you. I need you to remember that.”

—————-

It had been five years since you found your mate. He was sweet. Sweeter than you could have hoped for, but it wasn’t the love match you had dreamed up when you were little. He knew you had a hard time returning his affections. Didn’t complain when you only shared a bed with him for sleep after the mating frenzy was over. A fact he didn’t hold against you. You were from autumn. Bred to be the partner of a certain would-be high lord. It had been a disappointment to everyone when Eris’ bond snapped for someone else. It was far more than a disappointment to you. Heartbreaking. Earth shattering. An utter upheaval of your entire life. Only solidified when you bonded with Sol. The mother thought that you weren’t good enough for Eris. 

——

Childbirth was one of the most painful things you had ever experienced. Sol sat through all of it with you. Sat through the screaming and you clutching his hand so tightly that you felt the bones move. You would apologize if it wasn’t taking every ounce of your focus to remember to push. 

“Just one more big one. I can see the head.” And you wanted to cry. Maybe you were crying but you found it in yourself to bear down for one last push. There was silence in the room for a heartbeat before a perfectly healthy wail pierced the air. Your head fell back on the pillow at the sound, breathing for the first time in what felt like hours. 

You heard faint whispers coming from the healers in between your legs. But you were too exhausted to truly care what they were saying. Just relieved for it to be all over, for the babe that you were now cradling in your arms. Still covered in afterbirth, you had decided that nothing in the world had ever been as beautiful as your son. Your heart warmed as you saw those amber eyes staring back at you. Amber eyes. The thought was enough to send a cold chill over your whole body. As you looked into those eyes that absolutely did not belong to you, or your mate. Your hands shook as you peeled back the blanket enough to spot the matching mahogany curls, however sparse, there was no denying the color. Your throat felt stiff, breathing became difficult. You felt Sol move to your side, feeling your flood of emotions through the bond. 

“Darling, it’s only normal to feel overwhelmed, you just-” His words cut off with a ragged breath as he saw the same thing you did. The silence filled the room as he must have been doing the same mental math you were. You felt the rush of his emotions down the bond. Shock, betrayal. And then something unexpected, acceptance. 

“He is beautiful.” Was all he said. 

“Sol-” He held up a hand to cut off the apology on your tongue. Because that’s what you should be doing. You should be groveling at his feet, begging for forgiveness. He could kill you right on the spot as well as your babe. The babe that was undeniably not his. That looked so much like the newly crowned High Lord, it burned the edge of the scar in  your heart that had only just begun to heal. How could you ever forget him now? This child was supposed to be the start of your new life. The proof that you needed to tell yourself that Sol was the one that you were supposed to end up with. This future was no longer supposed to be yours. The future that you dreamed of in that small run down temple. That was a life that had been erased from your story. 

“What should we name him?” Was all Sol said as he looked down at the child. 

“Asher.” You didn’t hesitate. Sol didn’t even blink at the autumn court name. He only nodded and placed a small kiss on your forehead. 

You were about to say something else when the babe in your arms began to fuss and you quickly pushed him into your chest, instantly soothing him as he began to nurse. This many emotions should be impossible to feel all at once. You should feel mortified. You should be ashamed but some mascostic part of you was overjoyed. You could keep some part of the love of your life with you. While you might never be able to see what Eris would be as a father, you would get to see just exactly what his son would be like. And you could only clutch your babe further to your chest as you mourned the future that the mother destined had not been you before in the same breath, you thanked the mother for her small mercies. 

———

You never thought you would be back in the Autumn court. Having moved to Day with your mate, you left without a second thought. But standing amongst the rich colors and ripe scent of your home court, you realized how much you had missed it. As you walked down the street, holding your son tight to your chest, your mate's hand in the other, your mind started to wonder. You and Eris used to run up and down these streets. There was so much light in them now. Boarded up windows now overflowing with flowers and flickering lights from fireplaces. This was nothing like the court you had fled from. Eris had changed so much in only a handful of years, just like he said he would. “I’ll make this a court something you would be proud of, something deserving of your beauty” Eris had whispered against your skin the night before it all went to hell, the night you had conceived the small child currently pulling on your hair. 

“Behave.” You said, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips as Asher giggled at you, pressing his face against your neck. The motion tugged on the edges of the thick hat that was covering his head. Sol didn’t hesitate to right it, placing a quick kiss to your cheek to cover the motion. It was chilly enough that the hat would have been necessary anyway, especially since the day court tended to be on the warmer side. 

Your bags were brought up to your room in the palace the moment you arrived, which had prompted your idea of showing Sol around the streets you had once been so familiar with. A small part of your heart ached when you saw the new shops and heard the shouts of children. Sounds that once would have caused sharp commands of keeping quiet, sounds that would have caused fear of drawing the wrong attention. If this was so unfamiliar, a part of you wondered what else had changed. Would you even recognize the high lord you were attending the party of?

The thoughts bounced around in your head, uncomfortable. You had almost thought of denying the invitation when it arrived, held it over the flames with every intention of dropping it in but it felt like the coward's option. Sol was expected to go to events such as this as part of his duties as one of the many researchers for the day court. Knowledge collectors that would frequent other courts, trading for any information to add to the sprawling libraries of the court. Your mate had told you plenty of times that he would understand if you didn’t want to come, your son was young enough that wherever you went, he would come as well. You brushed it off, but now standing in the cobblestone streets, you were kicking yourself for not accepting his offer. 

After your stroll in the city, it was time to start getting ready for dinner. Much to your surprise there was a gown already laid out on the bed. Your chest felt tight as you stared at the dark green fabric. You shook your head to hold back the tears that were threatening to ruin your makeup. The fabric felt familiar on your skin. Sol said nothing about the gown that you most certainly didn’t pack, only offered his hand out. “You look radiant.” He brought your hand up to his lips when you placed yours against his. You could only smile up at him, hoping he couldn’t feel the tremble of your fingers. 

The walk to the dining room was something that you could have done in your sleep. But, just like the city outside, the palace was so different that it had you doubting your steps. Although, it seemed your memory hadn't failed you because soon you were greeted with those carved doors that swirled like the leaves in an autumn storm.

You had pleaded with your mother to let you skip the dinner. You had heard the whisperings of how cruel the high lord and his sons were. Honestly, you were scared of meeting them. Meeting him. Your betrothed. The words felt weird in your brain. You knew very well what that would mean and it didn’t all sound appealing. Your mother was having none of your whining, forcing the laces on your corset tighter still. The air rushed out of your lungs at the harsh pull, your hand on your bedpost was the only thing that stopped you from crashing back into her. She led you, snapping at you to calm the trembling in your hands. “You do not show weakness.” was the mantra she lived by. Power hungry since her birth, you were a way to gain power and you knew that from a young age. The doors of the dining room entered before you, interrupting the patterns you were following with your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself down. It was clear you had stumbled upon an argument, the high lord's face was tenser than you had seen it previously. He was staring daggers at what you could only assume was one of his sons, if the red hair was any indication.

Your eyes followed his and you fought the shock off of your face. Saying he was handsome was an understatement. Even through his anger he was gorgeous. Curly red hair was pulled back from his face, stray pieces framing his face. The deep emerald shirt he wore made the smattering of freckles on his face almost glow in contrast. When his amber eyes turned to you, you quickly looked to the ground. Embarrassed you had been caught staring so intently. 

Your mother introduced you quickly. The high lord stood in front of you, appraising you. A hand reached out to grab a lock of your hair and every part of you went deathly still. You fought the flinch as he stepped away from you. “You’ll do. Now, I would like to introduce my son. Your future husband, Eris.” Against your will, you smiled warmly at him as the handsome male rose to his feet. He grabbed your hand and placed a light kiss to your knuckles before he guided you to your seat beside him.

——

You didn’t have to search for him. You knew you would have found him in any room, no matter the crowd. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you were suddenly unable to look away from the high lord in front of you. It was so much harder than you had thought it would have been. Seeing him, that crown on his head. That was when a motion by his side caught your attention, brought you back to the present. His mate was beautiful, hair perfectly curled, sweeping down across her shoulders. A nasty part of you thought how washed out the maroon dress made her. It didn’t go with her light green eyes, her fair blonde hair. You pushed down the cruel thoughts and focused on the pressure of Sol’s hand on yours. Eris only gave you a beaming smile before you turned your head away from him. The only seats open were closer to his end of the table and you quickly sat yourself down. Placing your hand in Sols

Everyone in court was here. The difference of the loud room was enough to make a smile touch your face. There were even some familiar faces, children you had been raised up with. Friends that had witnessed all of the drama that unfolded. 

Dinner passed without event. Small talk became louder as more bottles of wine were shared. Sol had taken up a conversation with one of the lords that managed the farms for the autumn court healers. You did your best to join the conversation when you could add something, making a point to ignore the eyes burning a hole into the side of your head. His presence was nearly suffocating, it weighted the air, nearly choking you with the smell of him. Mercifully you made it out of dinner without having to talk to him. Sol didn’t question when you dismissed yourself the moment after dessert was served. You went to collect Asher from the room full of children, making sure his hat was still firmly seated on his head. You pulled it off when you got to your room, picking out his clothes for bed before you let him get changed. After you pulled him tight against your chest and told him one of his favorite bedtime stories and watched him drift off to sleep. 

-----

You turned around a corner, not so much running but walking fast to try to get to your hiding spot in time. Asher had demanded the two of you play hide and seek after waking up early. You were more than happy to oblige the demand, telling him to count. To his credit, he had done a great job with the first few numbers. But quickly got side tracked and you heard the loud “Ready or not” echo through the halls and had to put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. 

You almost stumbled back when you crashed into a firm chest. A hand wrapped around your waist to steady you and you didn’t have to look up to know exactly who it was. You tried to step back. Tried to ignore the shot of electricity that raced through you at the touch. 

“Eris.” You politely said. You tried to step around him but he moved with you. Perfectly mirroring your movement. 

“I didn’t get to speak to you last night.” His voice was like a balm to you, even now. Your ears seemed to perk up at the sign, instantly searching for it even when he had stopped talking. 

“It didn’t feel..appropriate.” 

“Why wouldn’t it? We were friends our whole childhood. There's nothing wrong with friends catching up.” 

“Because we were..” You couldn’t form the words. 

“More than friends?” 

“Yes, Eris.” You sighed heavily. You didn’t want to be having this conversation in the middle of the palace. “Now please. I-”

He wrapped a soft hand around your arm and pulled you behind one of the pillars in the hallway. 

“Tell me you still feel it. That pull towards each other?” He whispered, his face suddenly so close to yours that you could count his freckles. 

Eris pulled you tight against him. Every inch of him pressing against you. Your heartbeat sped up despite yourself. “This is a horrible idea.” You spoke the words but made no effort to move, instead you leaned into the heat of him. Drinking in the stolen moments. His hand lightly brushed your chin and you allowed him to guide your head up, your lips were inches away from each other. Eris’ eyes were trained on your lips and every ounce of strength left your body at the hunger you saw in them. He moved slowly, giving you time to pull away. And you wish you could have, wish you could have done anything except press closer to him. When your lips connected it was like he had bathed you in his fire. It was heaven and hell all at once. You sucked down greedy lungfuls of his intoxicating scent, the clove and cinnamon smell you could recognize anywhere. His lips were soft and demanding. Tongue forcing your mouth open, stroking the inside of your mouth in a way that your hands reach for any part of him. His own hands had rested on the small of your back, clutching you to him. Neither of you moved to take the kiss further. It seemed to go on forever but it still wasn’t enough when you pulled away, panting for air. His hands only tightened on you when you tried to step away. 

“Eris-” 

“Mommy! I found you!” Both of you jumped apart.You swore you felt your heart stop. You had completely forgotten how you had ended up in the hallway in the first place, too overwhelmed with Eris’ presence. You could only stare in horror as Eris stared at the small child standing before the two of you. Eris knew you had a child, had sent you presents the weeks after to congratulate you and Sol. You forced a smile onto your face and swept your son off of his feet. 

“Of course you did, my smart boy. Come on, I’ll let you hide this time.” You pulled your son tighter to you, shifting his weight to a hip. He was almost getting too big to comfortably carry. 

“How high should I count?.” You asked, smiling down at him. 

“A thousand.” He didn’t hesitate.

“A thousand?!” You pitched your voice up, letting him know your surprise. 

“Yep. A thousand.” 

“Well then you better get to hiding, I’ll be counting forever.” 

“Will you play with us?” Asher asked, looking at Eris fully now. You struggled against the squirming child in your arms. 

“I would lo-”

“Asher. I’m sure the high lord is very busy. Far too busy to play with us.”

“But-” Your son started to protest. 

“Your mother is right. I forgot I had a meeting, but how about this, I’ll have the cooks bring up a treat to make up for my absence.” His eyes flickered to yours on the last word. “And it will allow me time to talk to your mother.”

Asher lost interest after hearing he would have a special treat, always code for something sweet. His eyes were round as saucers. 

“Thank you!” He said before he turned his focus back to you. “Did you hear that mommy, I’m going to get a treat.” 

“Well then we should start our next game now. It might take me until then to find you in this place.” 

His giggled filled the air at the idea. You placed a kiss on his cheek before you set him down on his feet. He didn’t hesitate before he ran off in the opposite direction, legs wobbling slightly at his speed. 

The silence hung heavy in the air. 

“Y/n-”

“I have to go.” You turned quickly, feeling Eris’ hand on your arm. You quickly removed it and started in the direction Asher had run off to. You couldn’t find the strength to look back and see whatever emotion was swirling in Eris’ eyes. Refused to listen to the questions that were written all over his face and went to go find your son. 

It had been easy to find him. You knew every inch of this palace like the back of your hand, and had already found all the good hide and seek spots during your years spent helping Eris look for his brothers. 

Sol was already in your room when you brought your bleary eyed son into the room. He was still taking naps during the day, despite how much he would fight against them. Shame suddenly creeped into you as you recalled the events from earlier. You were half expecting him to scream and yell at you, like Eris’ hand prints were burned into your skin and he would be able to tell. 

“Eris came by earlier.” Your heart dropped, he knew and you haven't been the one to tell him. “He was asking a lot of questions about Asher.” 

“Oh.” Was all you said as you placed your son down on his bed. 

“I told him if he wanted answers, he should talk to you. To which he said, he tried and you had all but ran away.” There was no accusation in his words. Just like normal for him. He was more kind than you ever deserved. 

You sighed as you softly closed the door to Asher's attached room. 

“I didn’t expect it to happen like that.” You knew you needed to tell him what had happened before that. “Eris and I-”

“Whatever happened, happened. I expected something.” He sighed. “How are you feeling, I know you were trying to avoid this.” 

You approached your mate, you gently placed a hand on his cheek. 

“I don’t know how you put up with me.” You felt the sting of tears prickle in the back of your teeth. “I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like he could stay locked in his room the whole time he was here. I just hoped that I could have controlled it, I was a little blind sided.”

“Whatever you choose to tell him, I’m beside you.” Sol looked so deep in your eyes it was like he could see through you. “No matter what you decide. I’m always here.” 

“I think I need to talk to him.” 

Sol only nodded. “I’ll be right here.” You placed a soft kiss on Sol’s lips. You truly didn’t deserve him. 

It wasn’t hard to find Eris. He only had a few spots he went when there was something troubling him. Just outside of the grounds of the palace, the tiny garden where you two had kissed for the first time. 

“Eris.” You started, suddenly not knowing what to say. He turned to face you and your heart lurched. He had been crying. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, truly heartbroken. 

“What would it have accomplished? You have a mate, I have a mate”

“Did you know we haven’t been able to…” HIs voice trailed off before he started again. “Her sister has more kids then she knows what to do with and we just can’t. We assumed it was me.” 

You couldn’t find the words to answer, not knowing what to say. Hating the images that his words painted. Of course they would have tried. Sol and you had thought you had gotten insanely lucky. Besides the initial mating frenzy, you had never slept with him. You stayed in the same bed but when you tried to be intimate with your mate it usually led to you crying, wrapped in his arms. It hurt some selfish part of you to know that Eris didn’t seem to have the same issue. 

“y/-” His voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

“Don’t” Your voice broke, giving away the tears you were desperately fighting back. “What’s done is done. Don’t start this now.”

“I would have made you my High Lady. Did you ever question why she wasn't?”

“I didn’t think about you one way or another.” A lie. A lie that even though Eris could see right through, cut deep nonetheless.

“Not even when you look at our child?”

“My child, Eris, is none of your concern.” 

He flinched then, flinched like you had slapped him. 

“Does he know?” He wasn’t asking about your mate. 

“Of course not. And as long as I’m alive, he never will.” 

“No one has ever questioned?”

“No.”

“What happens when he starts showing the signs? The first son of a high lord will start showing powers sooner or later. Tell me, darling, has he started burning the curtains yet? Setting his clothes on fire?” You kept your face as neutral as possible. Revealing nothing. “He has. I was younger than him when I started presenting the signs. So, tell me again that you don’t think about me when you look at him. Tell me that some part of you doesn’t still love me and I will walk away right now.” 

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He kept prying. Was trying to get those damning words out of her. 

“I don’t love you. I love my child. I love my mate.” 

You saw something in his face fall, a light in his eyes fade away. 

“And if any part of you loves me, you’ll leave us alone. I’ll deal with the inconveniences when they present themselves.” You spit out, forcing venom to lace the words. 

Eris reached for you, arms flying out to grab onto any part of the woman he still loved with all of his heart. But you were already walking away. Leaving those words hanging in the air, the threat in those words unmistakable. 

You prayed you were far enough away before the sobs racked through you. They were strong enough to knock your knees out from under you but you had to get back to your room. No one in the palace could see you fall apart like this. You managed to make it to your room, sliding along the wall, knees hugged tightly against your chest. Every part of your body locked when you felt a strong hand rubbing along your back. The smell was wrong. Not cinnamon and pine, but honeysuckle and citrus. Your mate. His presence should have comforted you, and you desperately wished it would. Sol knew when you looked up at him, tears glazing your eyes, knew that whatever conversation had just occurred that it broke you. Some little part of you that you had held onto all these years, Eris had broken it. You wanted to hide it, assure your mate that he was enough. That was what you had always told yourself, told him and he gladly accepted the lie every time. 

“You still love him.” Not a question. Not an accusation either. Spoken plainly like the truth it was. You nodded, sobbing so hard you retched.

“I want to go home.” You choked out, throat threatening to close. 

“This is your home.” You shook your head, the words bouncing around like angry wasps. 

“No. Not anymore.”

“Wherever he is, that will be your home.” There was no pain in his voice. Sol had always been too understanding, too gentle and kind. He knew from the moment he met you what Eris had meant to you. “I don’t deserve you. Either of you.” 

“It was never about deserving.” Sol was on the ground in front of you. Arms wrapped around you, absorbing each shudder of your body. “You will never love me the same way. But you love me in every way that matters. So if you want to go home, then we go home. If you want to stay here, then you stay here. We’ll figure out everything else as we go.” His words only made you cry harder. 

“Why do you not hate me? You’re my mate and here I am.”

“After all that you’ve sacrificed… Do you hate me?” He asked, some light teasing in his voice. You shook your head. 

“How could I?”

“Exactly. Now what do you want to do?”

“I want to go home. To our home. I want to forget about all of this.” You took a deep breath, breath hitching on every lungful. “I want to learn to love you. Love us.” you looked into his eyes, warm golden eyes that you had always ignored. Now you had never been so grateful for them, golden not amber. “If you would want that.” You added. Not daring to hope that he would

Sol smiled, a real smile that filled you with warmth from the bond. 

“I would like that very much.”

The pair of you just sat there. Holding each other and you said goodbye to that small part of your heart that you thought would never heal. Buried it. The ache let you know it would never be forgotten, that part of you that loved Eris so deeply it outlasted a mating bond. But you would keep a small part of him. Always. At least you could keep his eyes in your life. And wrapped in the arms of your mate, it would be enough. You would make it be enough.

[sannasruins]

you had a choice

mark grayson x reader

type: angst, unrequited feelings, honestly idk

warnings: reader is the one with unrequited feelings, gn!reader but term "other girl" is used

a/n: i made the reader a bit more complicated in this fic, i honestly don't think they are wholly right in their approach, but are acting human and in a way i think many including myself might act. also i tried to keep to the cannon time line of season one but i haven't watched it in a few months and am basing it off the wiki so if there are any mistakes, don't at me

word count: 2.1k

You had known Mark since the two of you were young children, with your mother being a famous superhero, she and omni-man often socialized. You would attend his birthday parties, go on play dates with him, and as the two of you got older, his house would become a refuge for you when yours was empty. The two of you would play Mario Kart and Wii Sports in his living room, ordering pizza and talking about the newest Seance Dog comic that was out.

You were there to watch him grow, and change from the Mark that you had known to the Mark that he is today. There when he had his first crush in middle school, and when your chest weirdly hurt when he told you about her, you assumed you were just jealous at the idea of him spending time with someone more than you, and that it was nothing else.

But, you became more aware of him, flushing red when he leaned in close to you to see what you were holding or to murmur a comment to you under his breath. Blushing when he complimented you on a high score in a game or congratulated you for getting a good grade on a hard test. You would try to look nice around him, wearing pretty clothes and using the expensive perfume you got for your birthday. You would laugh at every joke he made, even if they weren’t especially funny, and you always smiled when you saw him.

He never noticed all your efforts though, poor oblivious Mark.

As the two of you entered high school, you started to notice the way some other girls would look at Mark, they looked at him almost in the same way that you did. But you told yourself that they didn’t know him like you did, they were not justified in their longing gazes.

You were there for Mark, his only peer he could talk to as he struggled with his lack of powers and feelings of letting down his father. Nobody else could support him in the way that you could, and did. You understood his struggle, being the child of a super hero yourself, you had expected that one day you would have powers manifest, but they hadn’t come yet if they were going to come at all.

And you were there to celebrate when he did get his powers, jumping with joy, holding his hands and telling him how proud of him you were, and how you knew he was going to be such a great hero.

When mark met Amber, you felt something form in your stomach, it was hard and it was cold, and every time you saw him looking at her, you were made aware of its freezing presence inside of you.

When you found out that Mark had managed to get a study date with Amber, the thing in your stomach seemed to double in size, filling you with bitter iciness that you didn’t fully understand. You tried to dissuade him from the date, telling him that he doesn’t need to be worrying about dating when he just got his powers, he should be training and starting his hero reputation.

“Thank you for your advice,” he told you, “But I don’t really think you could even understand what you’re talking about, its not like you have powers to speak from experience.”

His words bit at you, and he saw the hurt on your face, and he immediately felt regret for his harsh words.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed running a hand through his dark locks, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that, I really like her, and you trying to dissuade me just isn’t cool with me.”

You nodded and apologized to him too, saying you’ll keep your opinion out of his choice of dates and dating.

You were there when he told you about the kiss he had shared with Amber in his bedroom, talking about how sweet and understanding she was, despite the fact that he had left her for over an hour on their date with no explanation to go save Mt. Rushmore.

You again felt the chill in your stomach spread, reaching up to wrap its way around your chest.

“That’s great Mark, I’m glad it went well.” You smiled and told him, but neither he nor really you noticed that your words weren’t truthful.

You watched as he grew closer to Amber, despite his erratic behavior with being a hero, and he would gush to you all the time about how it was going with her, and how much he liked her, and so on.

And as he went through the trials and tribulations of being both a boyfriend and a superhero, you found yourself, someone who used to spend hours upon hours with him, the person who was once closest to him, being pushed to the side, forgotten, and neglected.

He would cancel the plans the two of you had made to reschedule a date with Amber that he had missed or messed up.  

When Amber dumped him after Mark didn’t show up to volunteer at the community center because he was out saving the world and got severely injured. You were the one at his bedside, holding his hand and tearfully looking at your best friend’s bruised and battered face.

You were called by Debbie and told that he had woken up, you rushed to his side, relief flooding over you as your eyes met his, and you smiled at him and sat down on his hospital bed.

The first thing he asked you however, brought back the freezing pit that you had forgotten since he had been so badly injured.

“How’s Amber?”

Your face morphed from smile to something between shock and disgust, before you quickly fixed it back into a now forced and small smile.

“She said she dumped you for ghosting.” You answered his inquiry, not trying to sugar coat your words at all.

“What?” he asked, and his face fell.

“Mark,” you told him, your voice softening for the boy who you care so deeply for, for your best friend who you love and only want the best for, “I think maybe you should let it be. You can’t keep doing this where you’re dating someone who doesn’t understand that you have a greater purpose, and more important commitments than just them. You can’t date someone who doesn’t know that you’re Invincible.”

He looked at you angrily, “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t comment on my relationship anymore.”

“…yeah.” You responded quietly and left his hospital room. Watching him go through this off and on, riding the seas of emotional turmoil over some high school relationship, hurt you. You didn’t want to see him struggle or be sad, he was still your best friend, at least in your eyes.

Once Mark was able to, he went to Amber and begged for forgiveness, which she for some reason granted to him. And to top it off, he then went on a weekend trip to a see a college with his once again newly reinstated girlfriend and Willaim, leaving you behind because you didn’t want to watch the two of them being together all weekend. You just told Mark that you didn’t want to fifth wheel when he invited you.

You were there when he came for you after that weekend, in incredible emotional distress, and told you about the fight he had with Amber, and that she had broken up with him again. Worst of all, he told you that he had revealed to her that he was Invincible to try to get her to understand him, in a last-ditch effort to win her back. And still after having that closely held secret told to her, and still having her turn him away.

You sat by him as he poured his heart out to you with watery eyes. But as you watched him, you felt the frigid cold in your stomach and chest spread even further, up into your throat, out into your arms, and down your legs.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He said to you weepily, “I thought she would understand if I told her, if I explained everything to her. I thought it would be alright.”

You didn’t respond and just looked at him, you didn’t know what you were feeling but it was a foreign feeling that you have never had before while looking at Mark. You felt tired, and almost apathetic.  

“I don’t know Mark.”

He continued on, rambling about how he thought he could fix it, and now how he can’t think of anything to make things better.

He turned to you after you hadn’t said anything for a few minutes, the only sound in the room being your slow breathing and his occasional sniffle.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked

“I don’t know Mark,” you said once again.

And then you got up, and walked out of your bedroom, leaving a confused Mark Grayson behind you.

You knelt frozen in front of your tv as you and most of the world watched the fight between Omni-Man and Invincible destroyed Chicago. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as you watched your best friend and his father, a man you had been close to since childhood, fought, causing death and destruction through out their super powered path. You felt horror, and selfishly, feared for Mark’s life more than anything.

You were there, when Mark awoke at the GDA hospital, sleeping on top of your folded arms that lay on his bed as you sat by his side.

You had been there for days, sitting sometimes with others who would come see him, but most of the time it was just you and Debbie, watching his swollen sleeping face, and wishing for him to wake up.

Mark looked at you, and around the room, and then back to you, with bags under your closed eyes, messy hair and most likely days old clothes.

It suddenly clicked for him, that you alone had always been there. Since a time before he could fully recall, you had been there. And here you were once again, by his side. He began to weep. Feelings of gratefulness and adoration flooded him.

You awoke slowly to the quiet sounds of Mark crying, but once you realized what the sound you were heard as, you jumped to your feet and looked at Mark. Worry morphing your face.

“Are you in pain?” you asked, quickly looking over him, as if you could find the source of his tears and presumed pain, and make them stop.

Mark reached out and grabbed your hand, and your eyes drew to his face. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not,” then he winced when you sat on the bed, shifting its weight and causing him to also shift, and added, “well maybe a little sore but that’s not what’s wrong.”

You watched him expectantly, still holding his hand, waiting for him to go on, wanting to know what was going on and how you could help fix it.

“I…” he started and stopped, clearing his throat that was rough from its lack of use and nerves, “I think I am in love with you.”

Your blood ran cold. The freeze made itself known once more, settling deep inside of you, in a place you could never take it out. It took over torso, and quickly seeped into your limbs, before finally it made its way to your head.

You pulled your hand away from his.

“What?” you asked, and though it just one word, the question came out harsh and sharp.

“I just realized now,” he explained to you, “that you’re the one that’s always been here. You’re the one who understands me. You’re the one who I need in my life, the only one able.”

You frowned at him, “So, I’m the most convenient? The one who is content with being push to the side, so you can prioritize other things? Who already knows who you are, what you are, so you don’t have to explain to the next girl you date?”

“No no no,” he shook his head, looking desperate to get his point across, “that’s not what I mean at all.”

“Forget it Mark,” you told him, standing up from his bed and taking a step back. “You were too busy loving another girl to notice that I was there, loving you.”

He looked at you, distress showed on his damaged face.

“I didn’t know,” he half whispered dejectedly.

“I’m pretty sure it was obvious Mark, if you ever once looked my way and actually truly saw me, and the way that I looked at you.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“It’s too late Mark. You had a choice, and you chose wrong.”

[uchihaharlot]

Ok so we had a thought—well several. A simple civilian girl being plowed by Shisui 🫠🫠🫠 @shisuis-left-nipple

How rough it is even when he is being careful.

His body control, stamina, omg!!!

She can’t ask him to go harder because he would hurt her. 😩

This Drabble has to particular direction. We were going back and forth the other day and then this little number was made.

I believe he would be extremely into having someone so innocent be at his complete mercy. It is totally freeing for him, actually. No threat of an assassination or attack, no training or alterior motive, no village or clan politics, just two bodies in the throes of ecstasy. He is not usually one for power games, but somehow being completely and utterly in charge does things to him. I guess Uchiha genes do take over sometimes…

NSFW; just some Drabble on the idea of Shisui blissfully taking a civilian girl to pound town.

Civilian courage:

No matter how fucked out she is, she knows he could keep going. For hours more! Those few times his perfect control slips just slightly, she will have marks for days. On the other hand, she can just let herself go completely. No matter how much she scratches, bites, writhes under him, he just smirks and enjoys it. Encourages it!

‘Is that all you got?’ Returning her love bites and then some.

About 5 orgasms in and he is still dressed? How can someone be that good with their fingers alone! She is faintly remembering that hand signs and being adept with your fingers are a key element for jutsus, before he crooks his fingers again juuuust right and has her seeing stars. And, oh gods, her civilization body can barely keep from shaking 🫨 basically having perpetual orgasms 😭😭😭

Shaking after number six and he is now scooting down, kissing all over her body until he reaches her happy bean. He hasn't even removed his pants yet, and she starts to realize what she's in for. Poke the beast, get salaciously mauled.

She knows he is nice and will take care of her, but knowing how powerful he is and could nick her in a second makes it oh so hot. So tantalizingly good is the idea of being crushed under his weight, what would really feel like if he gave it all. To be ruined by a man that holds precedence over the entire greater Shinobi allied forces, she feels like a house of cards beneath him. There is nothing like being rammed continually over and over into head knocking orgasms.

All the while she was wholly unprepared to what lengths Shisui would go to make sure she has her fill. He is a prime specimen of man, an adonis, even among Uchiha. She expected it to be good, but not like that. Not so good to be tossed around like a rag doll, did she not think for one second that maybe shinobi men were so bored with mundane sex that they went to higher lengths to get off. No, she didn’t. Being folded like a pretzel was the last thought she had.

She comes face to face with a Shinobi's restraint and self-control, or cunt to face, really, when he has been lapping and licking and sucking at her for another hour. He just keeps on fucking her with his tongue, like she is a jumbo lollypop and he wants to reach the gooey core. Her serum coating his nose, drips down his chin. How attentive Shisui was when devouring her with full mouths haste.

She must look like a raisin at this point, there is no way she can produce that much slick without becoming dangerously dehydrated. But it can’t be that bad, she trusts he knows what he's doing and apparently he is also so, very, much, into it.

‘You’re so fucking wet for me.’ Against her sopping wet cunt as he finally untucks and strokes himself out of her peripheral. The words are hot and laced with desire, making her all the more eager for him.

Shisui sinks into her halfway for the first thrust, coating his length and running his fist to spread her fluids from mid shaft to base. Fully bottoms out the second thrust, raw and deep. Unrelenting and rough, not even trying. Not anything like Shisui would normally put out. A cry or mewl, no sound she made could be contained. Divine praise from her lips into his ears makes Shisui tick. A paper bomb rocking inside of her, pulsing. Expanding at every whimper, every contraction of her slick walls. It’s shameful she would only cum once on his throbbing cock, twice if he really tested his luck. But that’s what lip service was for, and something he excelled at. Holding her up with one arm to fuck her. Just because he can. Rugged hip thrusts, deep and long, making her cry out for any deity her lust-muddled mind can think of.

It's the first time she thinks she caught his resolve cracking for just a moment, when she works up the nerve to grip his hair and pull at his now sweaty curls. His rhythm falters just once, his hips jerking and bucking out of order of the pace he set. Interesting…

She’s so deliciously taut around him when cumming. Squeezing his cock hard, threatening to massage it out of him. Making Shisui lose his resolve and self respect for filling her stupid with his thick sticky cum. It was known practice to not cum inside of one night stands—better yet if it were a civilian. But this time, he might. Might just ‘accidentally’ bless this random village girl with an Uchiha baby.

He loooves this in particular. Because he knows she is not using any chakra to manipulate her body in any way. Because she can’t. It's all him. Because of him. For him. Her body is so pliable, flexible for a girl who doesn’t train las a kunoichi would. Bendable enough to lift her knees to chest and then ears. Allowing him to reach the deepest parts of her cunt, to scratch a particular itch she’s never felt before. The limitless stamina Shisui held over any regular man who was thinking they had brought this pleasure to her was laughable. Not when legs were shaking, heart was racing and eyes rolled shut to unwind in this elevated feeling. This hunger.

She’s nasty too. Knows exactly who’s balls deep in her, writhes for his leaking cock. “…Shisui…you can come inside me.” As if she knew and could see it in his face, “…I want you to, please.” 🫠 The vixen.

So yeah, him filling her dormant womb up with his precious creamer really was inevitable. She is so soft, so fragile, so unmarked. She is untainted by ruthless fights and the harsh reality of a Shinobi's life. She represents all that he fights for, lives for, and damn if that doesn’t make him want to ruin her even more. Soft and innocent, wholly woman in every sense of the word. The daughter of some shopkeeper would be his guess, and what on earth was she doing at a bar filled with deplorable people. People who sought out this sort of thing. Shisui was definitely doing this girl a public service by fucking her stupid for the night.

It's not out of malice or even planned, she assumes he won't, but how could she know the effect her words and body have on him. So delicate, fragile even. Him dragging his thick cock in and out slowly. Nothing she can even do about it, completely at his mercy when he does cum. It seeps around the base of his shaft, forming a creamy white ring of their mixed pleasure. Even the most productive oil rig would be out of business if Shisui was in town, his persistent dredging allowing her to cum again and clench the blissful euphoria out of his cock a bit longer. Giving this girl the show she wanted, reaming a hand around her neck as he pumps her full. Thrusting deep to the hilt and halting as the last of his genetic material spurted within her. Warm and thick.

Peppers kisses to her cheeks and forehead. Apologizing if he had gotten rough, this girl is besotted. She just bagged the hottest guy for a night. Sheepishly asks if he would want to get tea or lunch sometime. Even if just as acquaintances. Shisui isn’t an asshole, he is taking this girl out wherever the fuck she wants and paying for the entire day.

[adamarks]

The thing is. Not gonna put this on fox’s post bc it’s a tangent. Anyway the thing is Ed and Stede are kinda codependent? What they are, though, is a) two animals who have pair bonded and b) ed seems to have more of an actual clinical depiction of codependency.

The big thing about codependency is that it’s not actually “one partner keeps the other partner good and pure and keeps them from being Mean and Bad.🥺” Codependency’s whole thing is control. It’s a saviour complex. And THE THING IS? It doesn’t work. You cannot “save” a person from being themself, from engaging in their addiction, from hurting themself. They need to make the executive decision to change, the codependent person cannot do that for them. Thus it becomes a cycle. Try to save -> see that they’re not doing what you want -> get angry/upset/punish yourself for not succeeding/sink with them -> rinse and repeat.

Izzy? Now HE is codependent on Ed. You can be codependent on someone who is perfectly fine. He tries to control Ed’s every move, doesn’t succeed, and inevitably gets angry. If you pick up an on god actual textbook, or like any Melody Beattie book, you will see that he is the very definition of codependency.

Cycling back to Ed, though. I do think he’s codependent. You don’t kill your alcoholic father to protect your mother. We don’t mysteriously never see his mother again and know that he went to sea at a young age for no reason. He tried to save her, it backfired. A woman telling her child that they’ll never have better because god decided they’d be miserable is not ready to be saved, is not ready to get out of an abusive situation.

Then, of course, there’s Jack. Jack is eternally getting Ed to do shit for him. To help him because he’s so helpless uwu or whatever. A douchebag who can’t seem to take care of himself and is on the hunt for someone to cater to him??? Mmm yummy! A codependent’s dream! In the episode, he caters to Jack’s every whim, makes excuses for him, and finally does the “sinking with him” thing when he inevitably pushes too far. This is partly because of Jack’s manipulation, partly because that’s what Ed’s family situation had been.

Now that we’ve established all of that, back to my original point: you don’t stop being codependent just because you get into a healthy relationship. I’m certain that a small part of the breakup era sads was that yet again he’d done something huge, sacrificed something big, and his efforts had gone wholly unwanted, just like what he’d done for his mom. And then there’s that fear. Ed knows the power that people he loves have over him. He knows how he acts in love! He knows how much it hurt when Stede left him! It makes sense, then, that he would run away when he sees Stede doing something he’s not too keen on (going full pirate party animal when Ed doesn’t want to be a pirate anymore). It’s fantastic that he’s running away though! He’s not doing shit he doesn’t want to do to humor Stede like he did with Jack. He’s not trying to force Stede to change directions. He’s not trying to control the situation! He’s seeing that he’s freaking out and he’s removing himself. Albeit poorly, but this is a step closer to being able to actually communicate things. He realizes he’s the variable he can change in dynamics.

So to close up, yeah the relationship is maybe a little codependent but not in the way people seem like to say? It’s codependent in that Ed has codependency issues and those will inevitably crop up in any deeply intimate relationship you’re in. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be in a relationship. It doesn’t mean that the relationship is bad or unhealthy. It just means you’re a human person with shit to work on.

[randomfoggytiger]

Disproving CSM's Conjecture in En Ami

CSM postulates that Scully and Mulder aren't together because she doesn't fully trust him; that, although she's drawn to powerful men, she is afraid to open herself up to them.

"You'd die for Mulder, but you won't allow yourself to love him."

The problem is, he's wrong.

Because CSM mixed up her fatal flaw with Mulder's.

Self-Denial and Self-Sacrifice

CSM's theory: Scully rules herself by denial, and Mulder offers himself up as the sacrificial lamb. How is he wrong?

Scully's flaw is self-sacrifice, putting everything she covets from life on hold to join Mulder on his quest (comedically summed up in Bad Blood's "I do it all for you, Mulder! All for you!") The Starbuck-Ahab complex she harbored since childhood-- expressing her love through devotion-- kept her in the car the first year; but the Truth soon became as much about her losses as it did Mulder's tragedies. Unlike Mulder, however, Scully strives to have a life uncomplicated by mess and trauma and the constant grind. So, she sits in the car, year after year, waiting for her partner to adapt to their changing dynamic (which he did not do for almost six of those years.) Her own fears and insecurities are placed under the bootheel of the work; but when life becomes too complicated or emotionally clouded, Scully strikes out in confused rebellion (e.g. Never Again, Milagro, and All Things.) Moreover, Scully is the one who sacrificed what she held dear-- stability, a family, something other than 24/7 monsters and conspiracies-- to bear the cross of Mulder's quest, not the other way 'round. (Her realization-- that she does want this life-- and shift does not occur until All Things, a few episodes after En Ami.)

Mulder's fatal flaw is self-denial (and self-punishment): he set aside a normal life out of a determination to find or avenge his sister. If Mulder was self-sacrificial, he would have let Scully walk out of his life a thousand times over and born that heartbreak silently, alone; instead, he stormed out after her and broke down his walls to convince her to stay. Furthermore, his self-denial is ever present even in tender moments, drawing away from emotional vulnerability once danger is past and shying away even faster if Scully draws attention to the present moment. Mulder is the one to deny himself love and a life with Scully (Home, Detour, Dreamland I, Arcadia, etc.), not the one who sacrificed everything he wanted to stay on his quest-- this is what he wants. (The change from obsessive pursuit to measured search begins in The Unnatural, changes wholly in Amor Fati and Millennium, and reaches its conclusion in Closure.)

CSM's Observations

The reality that CSM observed both agents for years and years and came to the exact opposite conclusion is baffling.

He concluded that Mulder sacrificed normalcy for the Almighty Mission, projecting his own Messiah complex onto his 'protege' and patting himself on the back whenever Mulder was, yet again, tossed to the jaws of Death for the "greater good." He also concluded that Scully stayed in the basement because of the raw power she smelled on Mulder, keeping a cold yet lustful distance because she was afraid to risk her womanly love on the all-consuming passion of his might.

How very dime store novel of Old Smokey.

Both assumptions are, of course, very wrong.

Mulder Dreaded "More" While Scully Hoped for It

Scully gave many unsubtle hints through the series that she was ready for more with Mulder: her willingness to go down with him in Tooms, her overt jealousy in Syzygy, her pointed inquiry about his family genetics in Home, her displacement and hurt in The Field Where I Died and Never Again and The End and The Beginning and One Son, her "we just keep driving" in Dreamland I, her unspoken 'secret' that was practically ripped from her chest in Milagro, her flirting in The Unnatural, her IVF request, and on and on.

Scully is by nature reticent with her emotions, fearful to fully open up lest she be hurt or become a burden; but in Mulder's case, she's reiterated over and over (Irresistible and Elegy) that their relationship falls into the latter, not former, category. In Emily she is, once again, "alone"; however, the context to her statement is vitally important. In the hospital, she hoped for Mulder to claim a place by her and her daughter's side as co-parent; but when he uncomfortably withdrew instead, it proved that he still wasn't ready for "more." Scully was alone in places Mulder couldn't fill; and so, she said goodbye to that hope, alone; then to her daughter, alone; and bore the little girl's death, alone. The burden of her fully opened heart was too heavy, she assumed, for Mulder... and in a way, she was right-- not until Fight the Future, when forced to confront "them", did Mulder finally acknowledge it. Until then, sacrificially tucking her heart back inside her chest-- for both their sakes-- was what Scully deemed the best course of action. She sticks around for her own reasons, as she says in Memento Mori; but those don't exclude the hope that Mulder will someday "settle down, live something approaching a normal life." (Her plans change in All Things-- but she's not there, yet.)

All those years, it was Mulder who was more emotionally distant. He was content with his life, happy to spin tires down the tarmac forever with his partner. Mulder was willing to deny himself into eternity if it meant not having to sacrifice an aspect of the life or career he was comfortable with and nervous to change for 'more.' It's why he was so afraid in Fight the Future and so proud of himself in The Unnatural (the warmup), Amor Fati (the big swing), and Millennium (the victorious homerun.) Scully is the only one-in-five billion he has: in the past, he could tease about passing genetic muster, about his boyish agility, about so much more, but to act on it? It took him four years to initiate a hug (post here) and seven years to approach a label of sorts for their relationship. Mulder's an overly cautious man, more pessimistic than optimistic when it comes to people sticking around; and any traditional, long-term relationship he'd witnessed had broken down or was held together by deadened respect and a few bratty kids.

Now it's Season 7, he's learned his lessons, and they're here, together.

Or were, until Scully dipped on a sketchy roadtrip with their enemy.

Conclusion

The most unrealistic part of this episode (amid a host of several others) was that Scully, despite hearing the drivel CSM peddled the entire drive, decided that he had anything worthwhile to say.

Thank you for reading~.

Enjoy!