#'it will be here if you‚ always‚ no matter what'

[lostfracturess]

In the backseat? Or on the stairs?

ღ pairing satoru gojo x female reader

ღ summary you and satoru have been driving each other crazy all night with your constant teasing. just your luck, the only seat left in the car is right on his lap. with every bump and turn on the road home, you can't help grinding against him and with his moans in your ear, it's only a matter of time before something more happens right?

ღ wc 6.3 k

ღ warnings 18+ ONLY. porn without plot, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends), penetration, fingering, public sex, kinda breeding kink, praising, needy female lol, overstimulation, edging, oral (both male and female), satoru is a bit insane as always.

ღ author's note idk what to put here. not that people really care, we all know why you're here so enjoy. it's basically a continuation of this. & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world !! ♡

Satoru Gojo's lap was absolutely the last place you expected to find yourself tonight. Yet here you are, perched on his muscular thighs, the crowded car speeding towards your place after the party.

Trying to get comfortable, you shift your weight, accidentally brushing against his crotch. Satoru sucks in a sharp breath.

"Easy there." His hand grips your waist tighter, pulling you flush against his chest. "Or are you trying to start something?"

"You wish," you fire back.

"Oh, I do wish." He smirks, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt "Been wanting to get my hands on you all night."

You merely huff, pretending indifference even as your heart races at his words, his touch. Satoru Gojo is the biggest tease on campus, and he fucking knows it.

Tonight's party was no different.

From the moment you arrived, Satoru was there, looking infuriatingly handsome in his tight shirt that clung to his every muscle, flashing that cocky grin whenever he caught you staring. Which was often.

Now, crammed in Suguru's car, the only seat left just had to be Satoru's lap. Before you could protest, Suguru hit the gas and the car lurched forward.

Satoru's arm snakes around your waist to steady you. "Careful there," he murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Wouldn't want you to fall."

Biting your lip, you stare out the window, trying to focus on anything but the way your bodies are molded together. Every bump, every turn presses you against him in the most maddening way.

Heat pools in your core as you fight the urge to grind down onto him. Blame it on the alcohol, but it was damn hard to think straight when you were rubbing against his rough pants.

But then a glance at Satoru nearly makes you gasp. Head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted. His arm tightens around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Then, he dips his head, lips grazing your ear. "Keep squirming like that, love, and we're gonna have a situation." His other hand finds your thigh, fingertips dragging over your skin. "Not that I'm complaining. Grind on me all you want."

Your breath catches. Heat courses through your veins, and it's only partly from the alcohol. Maybe it's liquid courage, maybe it's weeks of pent-up frustration. But now it's payback time.

Slowly, deliberately, you roll your hips, relishing his sharp intake of breath.

Satoru shifts beneath you. Unmistakable proof of his hardening length brushes your backside, a whimper nearly escapes him.

"Fuck, you feel what you do to me?" Satoru's groan is quiet in your ear. "Been hard for you all damn night."

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Oh, I've got plenty in mind." Satoru's fingers dig into your hip. "But not sure you could handle it with an audience."

"Try me. I dare you."

"Don't tempt me. When I get you alone, you're gonna regret being such a tease."

Boldly, you rock your hips against him, teasing him just a little bit more.

His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking friction. His cock presses against your backside. He dips his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Another moan falls from his lips, this one deeper, needier, muffled against your shoulder.

"Keep moving like that and I won't be able to control myself," he warns, his words hot against your shoulder. "Gonna end up taking you right here in this car, audience be damned."

And oh, how you wanted to take him up on that challenge.

You shift again, this time with clear intent. You grind down against his hardness, rolling your hips in a slow, deliberate circle but subtly to avoid drawing attention from the others in the car, the flowing fabric of your skirt thankfully providing enough coverage to conceal your movements.

His fingers dig into your waist, a strangled groan escaping his throat. You feel him grow even harder beneath you, straining against the confines of his pants, his thick length digging into your backside.

Biting your lip, you reach back and palm him through his pants, squeezing gently. You can feel him throb through the layers of clothing separating you.

Satoru jolts, a high, needy whine catching in his throat. His head falls back against the seat, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to maintain control.

"Shit, shit, wait," he pants, fingers circling your wrist to stop your teasing touch. "Stop that."

"What's the matter, Satoru? Can't handle a little teasing?"

"You're going to regret this," he warns, voice thin with strain. "You're in so much trouble when I get you alone."

Wetness pools between your thighs, soaking through your underwear. You've never wanted him more than in this moment.

Satoru's mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "But you know, two can play at this game, love," he rumbles against your throat. "And I play to win."

To punctuate his point, his free hand slides up your inner thigh, fingers brushing feather-light over your feverish skin. Even that small touch makes you gasp, hips pressing against his.

"Better be careful. Keep up the teasing and I might just make you come right here, audience or no."

Your breath hitches, body torn between the desire to let him do just that and the knowledge that you're very much not alone.

But Satoru seems determined to push things further. His fingers grow bolder, wandering further up your thigh, skimming over the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that have you squirming.

Higher and higher he goes, until finally, finally, he reaches your clothed core. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he traces the lacy edge of your underwear, the barest hint of a touch.

"Satoru," you whisper, half plea, half warning. You're not sure if you're begging him to stop or keep going, but it doesn't matter. He does what he wants anyway.

"Shh," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. "Just keep quiet and let me make you feel good."

With that, he presses his fingers more firmly against you, rubbing slow, lazy strokes over your clothed clit. Biting your lip hard, you try to stifle the moan rising in your throat. But then his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and the first direct touch of skin against skin has you shuddering in his lap.

"So wet," Satoru marvels, fingers gliding easily through your slick folds. "All this, just from a little teasing? You're going to be drenched by the time we get home."

"Satoru," you whimper. "Please..."

"Please what, love?" His fingers circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your head spin. "Tell me what you want."

"I want—" you start, only to cut off with a gasp when the car hits a pothole, causing his fingers to slip lower, teasing your entrance.

"Sorry guys," Suguru calls over his shoulder, "road's a bit bumpy."

"Yeah, no problem," Satoru replies, voice surprisingly steady for a man with his hand between your legs. "We're good."

Good is an understatement.

The way his fingers are moving against you, dipping just slightly into your entrance before sliding back up to your clit, has you seeing stars. Your hips rock against his touch, desperate for more.

He traces the very edge of your entrance, circling you with a barely-there pressure that makes you want to scream. Dipping just the tips of his fingers inside, he gathers the wetness before gliding back up to your clit.

His touch is maddening. You're desperate for more, for the thick slide of his fingers deep inside you, for the delicious stretch and fullness. But Satoru denies you, keeps his touches feather-light and fleeting, never quite giving you what you need.

"Please," you whimper, hips canting shamelessly against his hand. "Please, Satoru, I need..."

"What do you need, love?" he purrs in your ear, fingers continuing their torturous movements. "Use your words."

"Your fingers. Inside me. Please, I need you inside me."

Satoru hums, considering.

His fingers dip into your entrance again, just slightly deeper than before. Your breath hitches, walls fluttering around the teasing intrusion. But before you can grind down, before you can take him deeper, he withdraws, sliding back up to circle your clit.

"Satoru," you whine plaintively.

"Patience, love. I'll give you what you need. Eventually."

His fingers glide down again, tracing through your slick folds, teasing at your entrance without ever breaching. It's torturous, the ghosting pressure where you're empty and aching.

Up and down, up and down, never pushing inside but just hinting at the pleasure of it. Your core turns molten until you think you can't take it any longer.

You're so wet you can hear it, the obscene sound of his fingers gliding through your arousal seeming impossibly loud in the close confines of the car.

"Fuck, you're dripping. I've barely touched you and you're already this wet for me."

As if to emphasize his point, he circles your entrance again, dipping just the very tips of his fingers inside, stretching you open around him for a fleeting second before withdrawing.

"So desperate to be filled. You want it so bad, don't you, love?," he marvels, pressing just slightly deeper on the next pass. "Want my fingers buried deep inside you, want me stretching you open and fucking you until you scream."

"Yes," you sob, head thrashing against his shoulder. "Yes, please Satoru, please..."

He rewards your begging with another barely-there thrust, the very tips of his fingers breaching your entrance before retreating again. It's simultaneously too much and not enough, the fleeting fullness stoking your desperation to a fever pitch.

"Satoru, please. I can't... I need..."

"Shh, I know. I've got you, love. Going to give you what you need now."

Slowly, torturously, he sinks one long finger into you. The slide is smooth and easy, your body offering no resistance. You moan low in your throat, head tipping back in relief and pleasure as he bottoms out, buried to the knuckle.

"Fuck, you're tight," Satoru whispers, sounding almost pained. "And so wet, fuck. Can't wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock."

The thought makes you clench hard, walls rippling around his finger. Satoru groans, hips grinding up against your ass, the thick line of his cock digging into you.

Slowly, he starts to move, pumping his finger in and out of you. But it's not enough, the stretch too slight to truly satisfy the ache inside you.

"More. Please, Satoru, more."

He obeys with a second finger, the added thickness making you gasp and arch. Satoru sets a deep rhythm, fingers curling to stroke that spot inside you that make you bite down your lip.

"Fuck, Satoru. More, please, more..."

You feel his answering groan more than hear it, the vibration of it rumbling through his chest pressed against your back. "Such a greedy girl, always needin' more."

He punctuates his words with a particularly deep thrust, before you can do more than gasp, he's withdrawing, ignoring your whimper of protest. But it's only for a second, just long enough for him to add a third finger on the next plunge.

The stretch is maddening, bordering on too much. It tears a gasp from your throat before you can stop it. It's loud enough to make Suguru glance back briefly. "Everything okay back there?"

You bite down you lip to keep from whimpering. With his fingers still inside you, Satoru keeps his expression impressively neutral, even as his other hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise.

"Yeah, we're good. Hey, can you turn up the music? I love that song."

Suguru shrugs, seemingly oblivious to what happens in the backseat. "Sure thing, man." He reaches for the volume dial, cranking up the pounding bass until it fills the car.

You've never been more grateful for loud music in your life. As the beat thrums through the vehicle, you pray it will drown out any further sounds you might make. Especially considering Choso and Kento, passed out drunk were literally sitting beside you.

Satoru bottoms out, three fingers buried as deep as they can go, stretching you impossibly full. For a moment he stays like that, let's you just feel the perfect ache of it, the way your inner walls ripple and squeeze around him.

"Oh fuck." You grind your hips down to take him even deeper. "Satoru, yes..."

"That's it, take it. Take everything I give you like a good girl."

Slowly he begins to move. It's a smooth, deep glide, his fingers stroking you from the inside with devastating precision. He curls them just right, rubbing over that sensitive spot he found as if he knew it by heart.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent moan as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

"God, the sounds you make," Satoru groans, pumping his fingers faster, harder. "Sexiest fucking thing I've ever heard. Could listen to you moan for me all damn night. I wonder why he didn't do that sooner?"

Every thrust of Satoru's fingers, every glancing brush of his thumb over your clit, drags another broken whimper from your throat. Pleasure builds rapidly fast, your body climbing higher and higher, chasing the release that shimmers just out of reach.

"Satoru, please," you gasp. "I'm so close, I need... fuck, I need..."

"I know what you need," he rasps, doubling his efforts. His fingers piston in and out of you. "Need to come, don't you? Need to soak my fingers, drench my hand in your cum until it's dripping down my wrist."

"Satoru. Need you. Please."

"Shh, I've got you," he soothes, even as his thrusts grows harder, faster. "Just let go, love. I'll catch you."

Thank god for the loud music and low lighting. If not for that, everyone in the car would be clearly aware of exactly what Satoru is doing to you right now, how you're trembling and writhing in his lap.

His fingers speed up, his thump rubbing firm circles against your clit. You're close, teetering on the knife's edge of release.

"That's it. You're being so good for me, staying quiet while I make you feel good. You gonna come for me, love? Gonna soak my fingers while trying not to scream?"

His words make you clench hard around his fingers. Your thighs start to tremble. You're so close, body drawn tight.

Satoru feels it too. "That's it. Come on my fingers, love. Wanna feel you let go."

But just as you're about to tip over the edge, just as your eyes are fluttering closed, the car rolls to a stop. Satoru's fingers still deep inside you, a frustrated groan rumbling in his chest.

"We're here," Suguru announces, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

It takes a moment for the words to reach you through the haze clouding your mind. You blink dazedly, struggling to catch your breath as Satoru carefully withdraws his hand form you.

"Thanks for the ride, man," he says to Suguru, voice strained but level. "I'll make sure she gets in safe."

"You sure you don't need a ride too? I don't mind, it's on my way."

But Satoru is already shaking his head, one hand reaching for yours, lacing your fingers together. "Nah, I'm good. I'll walk or catch a cab later."

He doesn't wait for a response, practically yanking you out of the car and slamming the door shut behind you. Satoru's grip on your hand tightens as he drags you to the door of your house, impatient to get you inside.

You fumble with your keys, doesn't help that Satoru is pressed against your back, the hard length of him digging into you, making it difficult to concentrate.

"Hurry," he urges. His lips find your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the heated skin. You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder as he sucks at your throat.

Finally, blessedly, the door swings open.

You barely have time to step inside before Satoru is on you again, kicking the door shut and pinning you against it. His mouth on yours in a bruising kiss, tongue delving deep, claiming you.

He kisses you like a starving man at a feast, consuming you, devouring you. It's all you can do to cling to his shoulders as the onslaught continues, feeling dizzy and breathless.

Large hands roam your body, pushing your skirt up around your waist, squeezing your ass. He grinds against you, the rough fabric of his pants creating delicious friction against your sensitive core.

"Satoru," you gasp as his mouth trails down your neck, teeth nipping. "Bedroom. Now."

"Takes too long." In one swift motion, he grasps your hips and lifts you up, turning to set you down on the stairs instead.

Your breath catches as your back meets the cold wooden steps. His body covers yours, his weight on you as he settles between your thighs. You can feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against you.

He braces a hand on the stair by your head, the other trailing down your side. "You've been teasing me all night. Strutting around in this tiny little outfit, bending over in front of me, brushing against me 'accidentally'. Driving me fucking crazy.”

He rolls his hips, grinding against your core. Even through layers of clothing, the friction is maddening. Your back arches, pressing closer.

"Maybe I like driving you crazy," you manage breathlessly. Your own hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. "Maybe I like seeing you so desperate."

"Careful what you wish for, love."

Satoru's electric blue eyes burn into you, pupils blown wide. With a swift movement, he pushes you up against him and tugs your shirt over your head, tossed carelessly to the side.

You gasp as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. But it quickly turns into a moan when his mouth is on your chest.

"That's for teasing me all night. Need me to mark you as mine, huh? Show everyone who you belong to?"

You moan, high and breathy, as his lips wander lower, tongue swirling against your sternum. When he reaches the edge of your bra, he doesn't hesitate, dragging the cups down to free your breasts. His large hands cup the soft mounds, squeezing gently.

"Fucking perfect." His large hands cup the soft mounds, squeezing gently, thumbs brushing over the hardened nipples. Then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, and coherent thought becomes impossible.

His tongue laves over one nipple, lapping at the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly. He sucks it deep into his mouth, the pull of his lips sending heat straight to your core.

Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft white strands as you hold him to your chest. Desperate, needy sounds spill from your lips as he works you over, every swipe of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth stoking the fire within you higher.

He lavishes the same attention on your other breast, sucking and licking and biting until you're writhing against him, hips rolling restlessly, seeking friction. Your core throbs, molten heat gathering between your thighs.

"Satoru," you gasp, arching into his touch. "Feels so good."

He hums around your nipple, the vibrations making you shudder. His free hand glides down your side, skimming over your ribs and waist, before gripping your hip possessively.

Satoru releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the wet nipple before his lips trail lower, peppering open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. He sucks a mark into the curve of your hip, tongue soothing the sting.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, starting to tug them down. But then he pauses, looking up at you through his lashes with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Tell me what you want, love. Tell me how you want me to pleasure you."

“Your mouth.” You swallow hard, mind hazy. "Want your mouth on me."

A slow smile spreads across his face. "As you wish."

With deliberate slowness, he drags your underwear down your legs, baring you completely to his gaze. He settles between your thighs, hands smoothing up your trembling legs to grip your hips, spreading you wider for him. Fingertips press into your skin, hard enough to leave bruises.

"Look at you. So wet for me already. Bet you've been dripping for me all night, haven't you?"

Then, he dips his head, and the first hot swipe of his tongue through your folds has you crying out, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his hair. Satoru moans at your taste, the sound vibrating against your core.

He licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck, seeking more of his tongue on you, but his hands hold you firmly in place. He teases you with slow licks, ghosting over where you need him most.

"God, Satoru, please," you whimper. "No more teasing."

"So needy."

But he obeys, diving in like a man starved, mouth hot and wet against your core, his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Before his tongue delves deep, fucking into you with lazy, wet strokes.

Your hips buck against his face, a strangled moan rips from your throat. Satoru's hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place as he feasts on you.

"That's it, love," he encourages, pulling back just enough to speak. "Let me hear you. Want everyone in the building to know who's making you feel this good."

Your thighs tremble around his head, the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on you filling the room. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core with every stroke of his tongue.

"Tell me, love. Tell me how desperate you've been for me, how soaked you've been all night thinking about my cock."

"So badly," you gasp out, fingers tightening in his hair. "Needed you to touch me, to fill me up. Please, Satoru, I need you to fuck me already."

He swears under his breath.

"You can't just say things like that. Gonna fucking ruin you, you know that?"

Then suddenly, without warning, he thrusts two thick fingers deep into your dripping core. A silent scream falls from your lips at the stretch, back arching off the stairs.

Satoru sets a relentless pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you, while his tongue works on your clit. "Like this? Is this what you needed?"

"Yes, yes. More."

"Fuck, I need to be inside you," Satoru growls.

He withdraws his fingers abruptly, ignoring your whine of protest. You watch through hooded eyes as he hurriedly strips off his clothes, revealing inches of toned muscle.

When Satoru finally frees himself from the confines of his pants, you mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His length is impressive, long and thick, the smooth skin flushed a deep rose color. The broad head is shiny with moisture, a bead of clear fluid leaking from the tip.

Satoru wraps a large hand around himself, giving a slow stroke from root to tip. His cock throbs in his grip, another pulse of slick pre-cum dripping from the slit. He groans low in his throat, head tipping back momentarily at the sensation after so long spent straining against his zipper.

You watch transfixed as he pumps himself lazily, putting on a show. His fist twists over the head on every upstroke, smearing the leaking liquid to ease the glide.

"See what you do to me?" Satoru rasps, blue eyes boring into yours as his hand speeds up. "See how hard I am for you, how much I'm leaking? I've been like this all fucking night."

He swipes his thumb over the weeping tip, gathering the drops of pre-cum beading there. "Been thinking about this all night. I know you wore that skirt just for me, didn't you? Wanted to rile me up, tease me until I snapped?"

Then he's bringing his thumb to your lips, painting your bottom lip with his cum, parting your lips. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, eyes never leaving him. Satoru's eyes darken as he watches you lick his cum from his fingertips.

"Mm, and what if I didn't? What if I put this skirt on for Suguru, hoping he'd be the one to take me home tonight?"

"Is that so? Well, tough luck. Couse I'm gonna stuff you so full with my cock you'll be ruined for anyone else. Gonna make it so you never forget who you belongs to."

"Oh really?" you challenge.

Licking your lips, you reach out to wrap your fingers around him, marveling at the hot, silken skin and the way he throbs against your palm. Satoru hisses through his teeth at the contact, hips canting into your fist instinctively.

"Fuck, your hand feels good." He watches intently as you start to stroke him from root to tip. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You tighten your grip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. Satoru groans, low and guttural, as another pulse of slick pre-cum leaks from his slit. You smear it with your thumb. Satoru's abs clench, his cock kicking in your grip.

You lean in to drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein there from base to tip. Satoru shudders, a broken moan spilling from his lips as you swirl your tongue around the leaking tip, lapping up the salty-bitter cum of his.

Desperate to be filled, you suck the broad head past your lips and tonguing at the sensitive underside.

Satoru's hips buck, forcing himself deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, relaxing your throat to take him as far as you can. Satoru's hands reach for your hair, fisting in the strands as he guides your movements. He rocks into your mouth, clearly holding back from truly fucking your face.

"So good, fuck, just like that. Taking me so well, so fucking good."

Saliva pools in your mouth, dripping down your chin as he works himself deeper into your throat. Your eyes water but you don't pull off. Just as you're starting to get lightheaded, lungs burning with the need for air, Satoru eases you off him with a groan.

A string of saliva connects your swollen lips to his cock for a heated moment before snapping. You gulp down air, staring up at him with watery eyes.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," Satoru rasps, thumb swiping tenderly at the spittle on your chin. "I could spend all night fucking you and never get enough."

"Then fuck me already," you say, before giving his length a parting long lick along the underside.

"Oh, I'll fill you up alright, Gonna stuff you so full with my cock you'll feel me for days."

With that, he takes himself in hand, rubbing the thick tip through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. He's not penetrating, not yet, just teasing you with the promise of it. The broad head of his cock catches on your entrance with every pass.

"Feel that, love? Feel how hard I am for you? How much I want to bury myself in this tight little cunt?"

You can only whimper in response. But Satoru holds firm, keeping his movements shallow and teasing. He drags the thick length of his shaft up through your folds, the underside rubbing against your clit.

"Satoru, please. Stop teasing. I need you inside me."

"Patience," he coos, even as his hips stutter slightly, betraying his own desperate need. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long, dreaming about having you spread out beneath me. At least let me torture you a little bit first."

He punctuates his words with another slow drag of his cock against you, the head notching into your entrance for a breathless second before sliding up to grind against your clit.

"Please," you whimper, past the point of caring how desperate you sound. "Please, I can't take it anymore. I need you, need to fuck me."

Satoru hisses through his teeth. "Fuck, the things you say," he groans, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "You have no idea what you do to me, how crazy you make me."

Despite his words, he doesn't relent, continuing his shallow thrusts, painting your folds with your combined arousal.

"I want to savor this," he breathes, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Want to feel every inch of you before I bury myself deep. Want you trembling and desperate, want you to fucking fall apart before I even get inside."

And oh, you're close, so dangerously close to doing just that.

Every slide of his cock against your clit sends sparks skittering up your spine, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"Satoru, I can't... I need... oh fuck, please, please just fuck me, please."

Your desperate rambling seems to shatter the last of Satoru's restraint. He lines himself up and sinks into you in one smooth, powerful thrust, not stopping until he's buried to the hilt.

You've never felt so full, stuffed to the brim as he works himself deeper, inch by maddening inch. When he's fully seated, hips flush against yours, you both moan at the sensation. He's so deep like this, touching places inside you that have you seeing sparks.

For a moment, you just breathe together, foreheads pressed close, savoring the feeling of being connected so intimately. Then Satoru starts to move, and coherent thought becomes impossible.

He sets a deep, maddening rhythm, hips withdrawing nearly all the way before surging forward again. The drag of his cock inside you is intoxicating, hitting every sensitive spot, stroking the ache that's been building for what feels like hours.

Your nails rake down Satoru's back as he fucks you closer to the edge, leaving red lines in their wake. His pace quickens, thrusts becoming shorter and more focused, the sound of slapping skin echoing off the walls of the stairwell.

"Satoru," you moan, his name the only word you remember, the only one that matters. "Satoru, please, I'm so close…"

Bracing one hand against the stairs next to your head, he picks up speed, pounding into you faster, harder. The force of his thrusts threatens to push you up the steps, your head perilously close to banging against the hard surface.

You reach up, pushing your hands against the stairs above you for leverage, using the resistance to meet Satoru's increasingly powerful strokes.

"Fuck, just like that," he pants, blue eyes wild and heated as they bore into yours. "Take it, take every inch of me. Want to feel you come on my cock, want to feel you squeezing me so fucking tight."

His words, the relentless thrusts of his hips, the long drag of his shaft against your walls — it's all too much, too good. You can feel your orgasm building, ready to snap at any moment.

"Please," you whimper. "Please, I need… I need…"

"I know what you need, love."

He snakes a hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. He rubs your swollen clit in tight, focused circles, the added stimulation exactly what you need.

With one last deep thrust, the head of his cock kisses your cervix, and that's all it takes. Your body convulses around Satoru's plunging length.

Satoru works you through it, hips never faltering even as your spasming muscles threaten his control. He fucks you through your orgasm, grinding deep and rubbing your clit until you're shaking and sobbing.

Only when you collapse back against the stairs, boneless and spent, does he allow his own release to overtake him. With a last few erratic thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and stills, his thick cock pulsing as he spills deep inside you.

His fingers dig into your hips, surely leaving bruises, as he rides out his orgasm, hips stuttering and jerking with each pulse of his release. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his movements slow, then still.

Satoru collapses forward, his trembling arms barely supporting his weight as he rests his forehead against yours. You both struggle to catch your breath, chests heaving.

"Fuck, that was... incredible," he pants before capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he straightens up, his softening cock still buried inside you. His heated gaze drifts down to where your bodies are joined. He watches as his cum begins to trickle out of you, coating his length and dripping down your thighs to pool on the stairs beneath you.

"God, that's so fucking hot."

With a shuddering exhale, he slowly pulls out of you, a low hiss escaping his lips at the drag of your walls against his oversensitive cock. His eyes remain locked on your well-used sex, watching as more of his cum leaks out of you.

"Look at you. So messy and full of my cum. So perfect."

Unable to resist, Satoru settles between your thighs once more, his broad shoulders pushing them even further apart. He takes a moment to admire the view before diving in again.

A moan spills from your lips as he drags the flat of his tongue over your sensitive core, lapping up the evidence of your coupling with long strokes. He hums against your core, the vibrations making you shudder and clench around nothing.

Satoru takes his time, cleaning every inch of you. His tongue delves between your folds, circling your entrance before dipping inside to chase the lingering taste of your combined releases.

"Could spend hours just like this," Satoru murmurs between licks. "Would you like that, love? Like me to keep you full and sloppy and dripping all night?"

"Satoru," you whimper, thighs trembling around his head as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. "I can't... it's too much..."

"Oh, I'm sure you can take one more. Just let me take care of you. I'm gonna make you feel so good."

He works his way inward, tongue tracing teasing circles around your entrance before delving inside. He laps at your walls, coaxing his own cum from your depths only to fuck it back into you with deep, sloppy strokes.

The wet sounds of his tongue between your legs fill the room, punctuated by your needy moans and gasps. Heat coils tight in your core once more despite your exhaustion.

Satoru feels you tense. "There she is. I knew my greedy girl had one more in her. Gonna give it to me, aren't you? Gonna come all over my tongue like a good girl."

His words set your blood on fire, a broken sob escaping your lips as he seals them around your clit once more. He sucks hard, tongue flicking rapidly over it as he fucks into you harder, faster.

"Ah, oh god. Satoru, please..."

Then, two thick fingers ease into you once again, curling forward to stroke that spot that makes your toes curl. He works them in tandem with his tongue, thrusting and scissoring and rubbing until you're keening his name, hips rolling mindlessly against his face.

His nose nudges against your oversensitive clit with every thrust, sending sparks shooting up your spine.

"Come on, love" he praises. "Ride my tongue, fuck yourself on my fingers. Want to feel you come all over me, want to taste you."

It only takes a few more purposeful strokes of his fingers and flicks of his tongue before you're come undone once again with a wordless cry, back bowing off the stairs as your walls clench and flutter around his fingers.

Satoru works you through it, pulling back just enough to watch your face contort. Only when the last aftershock fades does he ease his fingers free. Satoru presses a final, tender kiss to your clit before crawling up your body, pressing sloppy kisses to your sweat-dampened skin as he goes.

"You did so good for me, love, coming so hard for me. So perfect," Satoru praises, pressing kisses to your neck and chest as you try to catch your breath.

When he reaches your breasts, he palms them gently, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples and making you gasp. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to your chest as he dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth once more.

He laves it with his tongue, swirling his tongue around it before he lavishes the same attention on your other breast, alternating between soft licks and lazy swirls, while his hand starts to dip lower.

"Satoru? What are you doing?"

Eventually, Satoru releases your nipple with a wet pop, soothing the ache with a final swipe of his tongue, his hand skating over your ribs and belly with clear intent.

He grins up at you, boyish and unrepentant. "What does it look like I'm doing? Maybe you've got one more in you, hmm?"

"Absolutely not. I'm fucking done, Satoru."

He pouts playfully, fingertips still tracing feather-light patterns on your lower belly. "Aw, come on, love. Just one more? I bet if I just…"

His hand starts to dip lower, fingertips just brushing your still-tingling clit. But before he can make contact, your foot plants itself firmly in the center of his chest and pushes him away. "Hands off, Satoru."

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," he concedes, hands raised in surrender. "No more orgasms for you. For now."

"You're impossible."

Satoru grins. "You love it."

"You wish."

© lostfracturess. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my work without permission. thanks for reading and supporting my work !! ♡

[cute-sucker]

boxer!rafe holding his baby for the first time, and knowing him he made sure you had a private room and good food.

tell me why he would be so jittery though ??

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

boxer!rafe never had gotten as scared as he did when you had given birth.

waiting. rafe had been waiting for hours, holding a lucky charm that you had given him. the strands of the bracelet were frayed as he toyed with it, over and over again. the smell of the hospital was nauseating, and the feeling of being in a place that smelt like antibiotics and sickness made his skin crawl.

he had gotten the call that your baby was born in the middle of a fight. he was on top of a guy before someone stormed in the middle of the fight. that was uncommon, and the referee quickly had them separated before rafe realised it was your work friend, delany. she looked frantic, as she tried to mouth something.

the minute he realised what it was, he was pulling the ropes of the ring, and yelling at people to get out of the way. blood was splattered across his mouth, and his swelling knuckles stung with pain, as his sweaty t-shirt stuck to his chest.

your water broke.

he was there in minutes, swearing as he tried to close the car. he'd run into the hospital with a huff, demanding to know where you were. to be quite frank it may have been sweet to you - but it was downright scary to the nurses.

a bulky guy with blood splattered all over him, holding a silly pink baby bag. the first nurse let out an uncomfortable laugh before telling him to sit down. now, rafe would have started yelling, but there was this drumming in his heart that made him feel as if he was going to vomit.

he couldn't lose you, no, this was a critical part of all of it. he'd read those stupid books that you had gotten him about pregnancy, and how dangerous it was, and how many mothers had died and how to hold a baby, and, and-

(goddamn it, he was scared.)

"mr. cameron. would you like to come in?"

he looked up to see a nurse with a painful smile, he took a deep breath before nodding his head. rafe felt his hands shake, as he took a step inside the room.

there you were, pretty as always with that discharge night gown, and a relieved sweaty smile on your face. you look so calm, but his eyes zone on your hands. the baby isn't in your hands, and he found himself wondering where the baby was, but he watched you get up to touch him.

"hey, hey baby. calm down. you need to stay like that," he muses, coming closer to rub your shoulders. you close your eyes, a soft gasp coming out of your mouth.

rafe gives you a soft peck on the shoulder, "why didn't you call me?" he whispers in that gentle tone of his. you squirm, peeling open your eyes with those pleading doe eyes,.

"i didn't want to bother you. i knew-" you gasped out, "i knew you had that important match and shit, and i don't know i thought it was like a bad time-"

rafe cursed, "didn't i tell you it was the two of us together? i shoulda' been there for you. shoulda' have held your hand through this shit-" and he knew he's going on a tangent as your lip wobbled and he quickly licked his lips while shaking his head.

"nah, it doesn't matter now. aw, my sweet girl did this all by herself. let me," he muttered, rubbing tears off your cheeks, "where's the baby?" you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his hands, before pointing to the sinks where he saw a small tiny girl.

she's squirming in the nurse's hands, as she gets washed off. her tiny face is squished up as she lets out small squeals. he's struck by how small, how tiny, how he made that little thing with you.

"i-" he choked up unable to take his eyes off your baby, "thank you sweets. thank you." his head bowed down into your lap, the words like worship. he was a devout in your temple.

"here's the baby, ms. cameron."

you looked up at her, a little bundle of joy as the doctor put her in your lap. rafe felt like everything was complete, feeling his throat sting and his hands get clammy. god, what did he do to deserve this?

the baby was perfect, a tiny sweet thing and rafe's hands shook at his sides as you looked up at him with teary eyes.

"do you want to hold her?"

he swallowed hard, his voice that soft whisper you knew so well, "can i?"

you laughed something that was so sweet, ringing in his ear like a song he never wanted to end. yet, he couldn't help but look at you with approval and when he looked into your eyes all he saw was love. all he saw was the truth. finally, he reached for his baby girl, calloused hands cradling her.

he finally had found his family.

[imjustreadinglmao]

BLUE

Paring: Azriel x Reader, Lucien x platonic!Reader

Summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when long kept secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

PART I

word count: 3k

A/N: this is part 1 of BLUE. I changed the beginning a bit to fit the storyline. Please be nice this is my first fic :)

Warnings: light angst, unrequited love, mention of childhood trauma/ mention of ãbuse (not described)

I stir my black tea as Rhysand files through the report I handed him just seconds ago.

The steam from the tea rises, curling in delicate tendrils, carrying with it a sense of fleeting warmth that I desperately cling to.

Rhysand’s office is both grand and simple.

Bookshelves line the walls, filled with volumes on history, strategy, and magic. A fireplace to the right. Above it, a large portrait of Velaris shows the city bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Feyre gifted it to him last starfall.

Heavy velvet drapes in shades of midnight blue frame the windows, ready to be drawn shut for privacy.

In the distance I can make out the mountains with their snow-capped peaks and the Sidra winding through the valley below.

“I have to say, I’m impressed you were able to convince Devlon so fast.”

I look up at Rhys and chuckle, the sound hollow to my own ears. “It does help if you threaten to cut his balls off and stake them to the wall for everyone to see.”

Rhys lifts a brow and barks out a laugh. “I see.”

I rarely go on missions anymore, choosing to work as an advisor for Rhysand.

Missions used to be exciting, but nowadays I prefer the comfort my room provides. The sense of security it brings is a balm to my soul, now more than ever.

I take this as a sign to stand up and lift my bag from the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way to the door.

“Don’t forget tonight’s family dinner,” Rhysand calls after me. I don’t look back, just give him a thumbs-up and close his office door behind me.

As I make my way downstairs and through the foyer, I spot Lucien strapping on his sword. Presumably getting ready for training, he has always been an early riser.

“How did the mission go?” Lucien doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s me approaching.

I let out a sigh and rub my temples. “Good.” I stop beside him and flop onto the recamier right next to the front door. “Well, as good as paying the camps a visit can get.”

Lucien cracks a smile at that, his amber eyes twinkle with amusement. He knows exactly how difficult it is to convince Devlon of something he isn’t particularly fond of.

“Are you coming to the family dinner tonight?” I ask, my voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

Lucien sheaths his blade and nods. “Feyre will have my head if I don’t show up. I already missed the last one.”

I cringe at the mention of the last family dinner. The memory alone sends a sharp pang through my chest.

———————

I walk into the dining room, ready to face yet another family dinner. I spot Mor right away, radiant in her blood-red gown. The sight of her is always one of familiarity and comfort.

“Hey, got another one of those?” I point to the wine glass in her hand. She arches a brow and hands me one filled to the brim.

“Are we so exhausting that you need liquid encouragement to get through the night?” she muses. I just roll my eyes, trying to hide my amusement.

Right as she opens her mouth to say something, the back of my head begins to tickle. He is here.

I turn around to see Azriel walk through the door, and he is not alone. Elain is beside him, their hands intertwined.

Even though I was expecting it to happen soon, the sight still hits me like a physical blow. It was always just a matter of time till Azriel and Elain decided to go against Rhys‘s order and make their love official.

I‘m glad, Lucien isn’t here to witness this. I can’t imagine how it would be for him.

Since only my side of the bond snapped into place, seeing how in love they are, is somehow… manageable. For Lucien it would be almost deadly.

I look back at Mor, her expression as shocked as mine. “I didn’t know,” she whispers, her face now bearing a look of worry and pity.

To say the dinner is awkward would be an understatement. Nobody really knows what to say after Elain and Azriel walked in holding hands.

I just shove the potatoes on my plate around, too nauseous to eat anything. The lump in my throat makes swallowing impossible.

Cassian clears his throat and points to Azriel and Elain. “So how long has this been going on?” Nesta jabs her elbow into his ribs, which earns her an “oww”, and throws me an apologetic look.

Besides Mor, only Lucien and Nesta know about the bond between me and Azriel. Their concern a constant reminder of the bond I try so hard to ignore.

“Well…” Azriel coughs, noticeably uncomfortable with being put on the spot. “It all happened very quickly. We spent a lot of our nights up and talking and realized we didn’t want to hold back anymore.”

He gazes down at her, smiling. I recognize that look. The realization twists the knife in my heart.

That’s how I look at him.

—————————

“Are you even listening?” Lucien waves a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my haze. His voice pulls me back to the present, but the ache remains.

I rub my eyes. “Uh… sorry. What exactly were you saying?”

He crosses his arms and looks down at me. “I was asking if you wanted to go training with me. But it seems what you really need is some sleep.”

I roll my eyes and stand up. “You know me so well, Lu.” I pat his shoulder and walk out the door. “See you at dinner tonight.”

Velaris is most beautiful at night, but nothing can beat the quiet and peace of the early mornings.

I walk down the high street, greeting some of my favorite vendors with a smile, until I reach the familiar townhouse.

After I officially became part of Rhysand’s inner circle, he offered me to stay at his townhouse.

It had many perks: no rent, right in the heart of Velaris, and an endless wine supply thanks to Rhysand’s "secret" wine cellar.

There is really only one downside.

“I didn’t think you would be back so soon.” Azriel sits at the dinner table eating breakfast. He has his fighting leathers on, probably on his way to the House of Wind for Valkyrie training.

Cassian and Azriel still train the Valkyries every morning. Sometimes I join, but only when Nesta drags me up there.

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” I laugh awkwardly. “I’m going to head upstairs to rest. Say hello to Nesta for me.” The words taste bitter, a poor attempt to mask the hurt.

I turn around before he has the chance to say something else, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.

Yes, that is the downside. The constant reminder of what I had lost and could never have.

Him.

——————

The dining room buzzes with conversation as everyone settles in for dinner.

Azriel and Elain sit together, a vision of contentment that sends a pang through my heart.

Across the table, Lucien’s jaw is tight, his gaze fixed on his plate.

“Thank you all for coming,” Rhysand begins, standing at the head of the table. “I have an important announcement to make.”

He glances at Lucien and me, a hint of apology in his eyes. “We’ve decided to support Eris in overthrowing Beron.

Lucien and you,” he points at me, “will lead the mission to the Autumn Court.”

A murmur runs through the room. Lucien looks up, his eyes meet mine.

There is a mixture of determination and vulnerability in his gaze that makes my heart ache.

The Autumn Court doesn’t hold great memories for either of us.

But before I can fully process Rhysand’s words, Azriel stands abruptly, his expression dark and tense.

“Why them?” Azriel’s voice is sharp, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. “Why not send someone else?”

Rhysand frowns slightly, clearly not expecting this reaction.

“Both of them have a unique advantage given their history with Eris and the Autumn Court. It’s a strategic decision.”

Azriel’s eyes flicker to me, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”

I feel a surge of frustration. Azriel’s protectiveness, though touching, is misplaced and completely out of character.

“What’s your problem, Azriel?” I snap, unable to hold back.

“I’m more than capable of leading this mission. Or do you think I’m not good enough to do my job?”

His eyes narrow, the tension between us thickening. “That’s not what I meant,” he retorts, his voice lower but no less intense.

“I just don’t think it’s wise to send specifically you two into such a volatile situation. You can’t just throw yourself into danger like that.”

My heart pounds in my chest. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re always in danger, always risking everything. How is that different from this mission?”

“It’s different because—” Azriel stops himself, glancing at Elain, who is watching us with wide eyes. He seems to struggle for a moment before finishing, “It doesn’t matter, just let someone else do the mission. You’re an important asset to this court.”

Before I could respond with something I’d surely regret, Elain’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Azriel, stop.” Her voice is calm but firm, a hint of desperation in her eyes. “This isn’t helping.”

Azriel turned to Elain, his expression softens slightly, but the tension remains. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “I’m sorry. I just… I worry.”

Lucien’s gaze hardens, “We’ve faced worse,” he says, a challenge in his tone. “We are capable enough to lead this mission, we don’t need your approval, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “It’s not about capability. It’s about safety. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Anyone?” I echo, my voice rises. “Or just Elain’s mate?”

The words hang in the air, charged with emotion. Azriel flinches slightly.

“This has nothing to do with Lucien being Elain‘s mate,” he says, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays him.

“But it does, doesn’t it?” My words laced with venom. “If Lucien were to get hurt, it would cause Elain distress, that’s how a mating bond works. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Elain looks down, her face unreadable, while Lucien’s gaze flickers between Azriel and me.

“We all know the risks,” Lucien says more calmly this time, “And we’re prepared to face them.”

Rhysand interjects, his voice low but authoritative. “Enough. We’re all on the same side here. This is a mission we need to undertake for the greater good. Personal feelings need to be set aside.”

I take a deep breath and try to steady the storm of emotions within me. Rhysand is right, the last thing we need is Azriel and me fighting.

Rhysand sits down, his tone final. “This mission is vital. We need to trust each other and stay focused. We’ll discuss this further tomorrow. For now, let’s try to enjoy the evening.”

The atmosphere is strained as we resume our meal. I can feel Azriel’s gaze on me.

Lucien reaches over, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything in that moment.

I don’t say a word throughout the whole dinner. Choosing to stay quiet instead of lashing out.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission would change everything.

---

The garden of the River House is a haven of tranquility. Blooming flowers and lush greenery everywhere Elain truly is a talented gardener.

I find Lucien leaning against a stone pillar, his gaze lost in the Sidra's gentle flow.

I approach him quietly, the cool evening air brushing against my skin. “Mind if I join you?” I ask softly.

Lucien looks up, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course not. I was just enjoying the peace before the storm.”

I halt beside him, the tension from the dinner still coils tightly in my chest. “Quite the announcement, wasn’t it?”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I knew something like this was coming, but hearing it confirmed… it’s different.

Eris must be desperate if he reached out to Rhysand.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Yes, it’s a lot. I wish Rhys would have told us separately. This topic is already very emotional I really didn’t need Azriel’s… concern too.”

Lucien’s eyes darken at the mention of Azriel. “He’s protective, that’s clear. But he doesn’t have the right to undermine your abilities.”

“It’s not just that,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “His words, his actions… they confuse me. One moment he’s distant, the next he’s overly concerned. I don’t understand him.”

Lucien’s gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “He cares about you. He might not be aware of it but you’re his mate, bond snapping into place or not, it’s his priority to keep you safe. That can’t be changed, even if he’s in love with someone else.”

I look away, the garden blurring before my eyes. “It hurts, Lucien. Seeing him with Elain, pretending to be something they’re not. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Lucien reaches out, his hand covering mine. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got our battles to fight, and sometimes the hardest ones are with our own hearts.”

A moment of silence stretches between us, the night air filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

“And what about you?” I ask, turning to look at him. “How are you handling all of this? Eris, the Autumn Court… it can’t be easy for you.”

Lucien’s expression grows somber. “It’s not. But I’ve come to terms with my past and everything my father did to me. I knew this was going to happen. Eris has the chance to change things, to make the Autumn Court a better place. I can’t turn my back on that.”

He smiles at that. “And maybe, when all of this is over, we’ll find some semblance of peace.”

As we stand there, the garden enveloping us in its quiet embrace, I feel a sense of calm settle over me. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I know we have each other’s backs.

—————————

The war room in the House of Wind is filled with dread as we gather around the large oak table.

Rhysand stands at the head, his usual easy demeanor replaced by a grave seriousness.

To his right, Amren sits with her usual enigmatic expression, while Cassian leans against the wall, arms crossed and a stern look on his face.

Azriel is on my left, his gaze unreadable, and Lucien sits across from me, his eyes focused and determined.

Rhysand unfurls a detailed map of the Autumn Court, its forests and strongholds marked with meticulous detail.

“Eris has provided us with information about Beron’s movements and the layout of his court. Our objective is to infiltrate the main stronghold, gather intelligence, and support Eris in his efforts to dethrone Beron.”

Lucien nods, his jaw set. Rhys continues. “We’ll enter through the southern border. Eris has arranged for a distraction that will draw most of Beron’s guards away from the main stronghold. This will give us the opportunity to slip in and meet with Eris.”

Amren leans forward, her sharp eyes assessing the map. “And what about Koschei? He’s been a wild card in all of this. His alliance with Beron could complicate things.”

Rhysand nods in agreement. “Koschei is a concern. According to Eris, Koschei has been providing Beron with dark magic. We need to be prepared for any magical traps or barriers.”

Azriel’s voice cuts through the discussion. “I’ll handle the reconnaissance. I’ll fly ahead and ensure the path is clear before they move in.”

I glance at him, he hasn’t looked at me or said a single thing to me since yesterday. If I didn’t know better I would say he was sulking.

Rhysand continues, “Once inside, our main goal is to secure the throne room and neutralize Beron’s guards. Eris will confront Beron directly. You,” he gestures to Lucien and me, “need to be ready to support him.”

Lucien nods again, his eyes meeting mine across the table. “We’ll be ready.”

Rhysand’s gaze softens slightly as he looked at us. “This mission is dangerous, but it’s necessary. Any questions?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle on my shoulders. “What if things go wrong? Do we have an extraction plan?”

Amren smirks. “We have a plan. Azriel and I will be your backup. If things go south, we’ll get you out, girl.”

Azriel nods, his eyes meeting mine. “You won’t be alone out there. We’ll be watching.”

There is a moment of silence as everyone absorbs the gravity of this mission.

Finally, Rhysand speaks again, his voice resolute. “We leave at dawn. Get some rest and prepare yourselves.”

As we all stand to leave, Azriel catches my arm. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asks, his voice low.

I nod, following him to a quieter corner of the room. “What is it, Azriel?”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I know you’re capable. But this mission… it’s dangerous, and I can’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

His concern should touch me, but I can’t help and feel angry. “I know the risks, Azriel. And I’ll be careful. But you need to trust me to do my part.”

He sighs, running a scarred hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or your abilities. I just… I can’t lose you.”

Before I can respond, Lucien approaches.“Ready?” Lucien asks, his eyes flicker between Azriel and me. I nod, giving Azriel one last look.

“Ready.”

[staarri]

its you! ( in each minute, second… its always been you )

c. various haikyuu characters

t. fluff, gn!reader & male characters only. wc : ?

the first kiss was quick; almost as if it never happened at all. maybe you were shy—or maybe he was shy. either way, one of you will go home regretting the decision of pulling away too fast. unfortunately, that someone will be him. no matter what you do to try and change it—he will always regret not doing enough for the first date. maybe it’ll stay that way until he gathers enough courage to kiss you the second time. oh, what a dream! he thinks to himself.

🏐 — kageyama, yamaguchi, kenma

surprisingly on the bolder side. he took initiative in almost everything; inviting you to eat here and there, took you to places to take pictures and create fun memories. it felt more like hanging out with a friend with the sense of familiarity and trust you have with each other, even on your first date together. he didn’t try to do much when it came to physical affection (aside from hand holding, if you allowed him to.) but he did attempt to give a small kiss at your doorstep when you were home.

🏐 — hinata, sugawara, nishinoya, bokuto, kuroo, oikawa

the first time he met your parents, he was (well, he seemed) painfully, incredibly non-chalant about everything. he paid for the dinner and gave gifts (including a bouquet for them.) your parents approved of him shortly after, seeing how much he cared about this little meeting being perfect in many ways. he double checked the reservation and had another date as backup incase they weren’t available, he took care of the flowers and made sure to personally hand make the arrangement, and even wrapped the gifts in little boxes with bows on them. it went well, of course it did—but the moment the two of you went back into your shared home, he collapsed on the couch right on top of you, arms wrapped around your waist loosely as he takes a deep breath. as if relieved the moment was over, because little did you know, it was as nerve wracking to him as it was for you.

🏐 — iwaizumi, asahi, daichi, akaashi, tsukishima

[ponderingmoonlight]

Saving Genya from his big brother only to make out with Sanemi

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,9k

Synopsis: It was never an easy job, being the only one who's able to calm the wind hashira down. There was never more than respect and understanding between both of you. Until you bodly decided to stand up for Genya, until Sanemi finally reveals his true feelings...

Warnings: We're talking about Sanemi so language at violence lol, aggressive making out

I love love love Sanemi and I desperately hope you do as well hehe, enjoy and leave a comment/like/reblog <3

There he stands with his hot temper filling the air and his ruthless beatings torturing the poor souls in front of you. Hashira training never sounded like fun to you, especially when you consider who you’d have to deal with.

Sanemi Shinazugawa, especially.

“Get back up, brat. We’re not finished yet.”

You watch from afar as he hits the poor red-haired poor over and over again. Without any mercy, without the slightest hint of regret. And still, you can’t help but ponder about the way his arms flex and show every vein that decorates his skin. How he moves so effortlessly that your eyes are almost unable to follow. No, it’s not a secret that apart from being a madman, Sanemi Shinazugawa is hot as hell.

And your crush since you joined the demon slayer corps.

“Don’t you think that’s enough for today? The poor boy isn’t even able to stand up straight anymore”, you interfere when he’s about to hit him once again.

 "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were the expert on disciplining. How about me fetching you a chair so you can supervise more comfortably?”

All pairs of eyes are set on you while you step towards the scene in death silence. Apart from everyone else, you aren’t here to train under Sanemi. No, you are a very capable demon slayer yourself, so good that you even managed to beat Mitsuri from time to time. You definetely don’t need Sanemi to train.

In fact, you are here because you’re the only one who is able to tame him apart from Kagaya-sama himself.

"Well, if you ask me so nicely, a chair actually doesn’t sound bad for the next time. Meanwhile, how about we wrap this up? Enough's enough."

Sanemi’s venomous eyes meet yours, tempting you to lose your cool. Within the past few months, you’ve learned how to act around him and that his actions don’t reflect his true feelings at all. Deep within, he is the most caring and compassionate person you’ve ever met, so tender that you’d simply melt away in his touch. He never failed to protect you even if not needed, always made sure you are save before looking out for himself. Damn, he even left his desert for you to eat.

But on the other hand, he’s very good at hiding that side of him.

“Fine. Call it quits for today then. But we two will have a talk later”, he finally mutters before turning around and disappearing without any trace.

Your heart skips a few beats before you’re able to think straight again. Oh, how much you adore him. Just the sheer thought of meeting him alone sends shivers down your spine even though nothing ever happened between you two. After all, you’re only here to look out for him, right?

“Thank you for standing up for me. Now you’ll get in trouble for helping me out”, the red-haired boy lying in front of your feet speaks out while dragging himself up.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I can handle him. Are you alright?”

In the matter of seconds, your eyes scan his body for serious injuries. Nothing, as you expected. Even though his training methods seem rough, he’d never allow himself to truly lay hands on another corps member. Not even him, Kamado Tanjiro. The boy who has what Sanemi always dreamed of.

“Yes, thanks to you. We really need a break after training day and night. Sorry, may I ask you for your name?

“My name is (y/n). Nice to finally meet you in person, Kamado Tanjiro.”

His eyes widen in an instant when you tell him your name. Even though you’re not a hashira, it seems like a lot of corps member know you. A decently skilled swordswoman, a trained doctor who made sure that no one ever died as long as you were around.

“The angel”, he breathes out.

“What an honor to meet you in person!”

In an instant, he gets on his knees and places his head on his flat palms. A pose of deep respect, so intimate that your cheeks heat up in an instant.

“Please, lift yourself off the ground. I don’t deserve your praise-“

“You deserve so much more than that!”, Tanjiro interrupts in an instant.

“Leave her alone. Can’t you see that you’re making her uncomfortable?”, another voice mutters from behind.

A very familiar voice you haven’t heard in quite some time, that makes your heart jump up and down in joy.

“Genya!”, you cry out.

You waste no time. In an instant, you lunge yourself at the now much taller boy and wrap your arms around him so tightly that he cannot escape. Oh, you really missed him. Even though Sanemi states over and over how much he hates his little brother, you always had a weak spot for him. Maybe because you’re able to see his soft side as well or because of the cute way he blushes when you look at him.

“Genya, are you alright? Your face is so red-“

“SHUT UP”, he barks at Tanjiro while you giggle to yourself.

“Why didn’t you send me a crow like I told you to? I was beyond worried about you. But oh I’m so proud. Did you really help to kill an upper moon demon and supported your friends?”

“Well I-“

“Yes he did! He was a big help for all of us!”, Tanjuro interferes immediately.

“(y/n), didn’t I tell you we need to talk?”, someone suddenly barks from the inside.

All color drains from Genya’s face immediately as he turns around with you.

There he stands with his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest, eyes almost piercing through you while the vein on his forehead threatens to pop any minute.

Your heart sinks in an instant. No, don’t let him control you like that, not when you know that he’s just…jealous?

“I needed to talk to Genya first”, you clarify.

“(y/n), please don’t-“

“Oh, is that so? Why would you even look at that trash?”

Thick anger rushes through your veins like the flood. If there’s one thing you hate about Sanemi’s attitude, it’s the way he talks about his little brother.

“I’m looking at you as well, don’t I?”

He flinches ever so slightly, his furrowed eyes now piercing through you like a thousand knives.

“Get inside. Right now.”

“Get some rest you two”, you quickly shout over your shoulder before you disappear into the house with a furious Sanemi by your side.

He slams the door shut behind you so rapidly that it rains plaster.

“What was that, huh?”, he speaks out with threatening low voice.

“I asked your little brother about his mission.”

He cages you between the wall with no way to escape, dangerous eyes locked with yours.

“I told you to stay away from him.”

“And I told you that I don’t care.”

“Why don’t you leave, then?”

“Because I’m the only one who’s able to tame you down”, you bite back.

He huffs in sheer annoyance while pushing himself off the wall. Why does he have to look so vulnerable and strong at the same time, so scary but also mesmerizing?

“You won’t force me to talk to him”, he finally speaks out.

“I want him to leave the corps and get as far away from me as possible.”

“Away from you or away from the danger?”

“I don’t care about him.”

“So you don’t care about me as well?”

Thick silence hangs between both of you while you stare at each other. To this day he never revealed how he truly feels about you. Does he hate you, respect you, love you? You might never know. But your influence on him speaks for itself.

“Go to sleep. We’ll get up early tomorrow.”

Without another word, he leaves you standing in a new wave of ponderings and emotions.

-a few hours later-

Your eyes dart open for no reason. Aimlessly, your orbs roam around the dark room, ears searching for a single sound.

Voices. Shouting. Blows.

Blows?

“Big brother?”

Your heart drops to the floor. That’s Genya. Why does the floor start to vibrate now?

Out of instinct, you yank out of your room, follow a wave of destruction until you finally get what’s going on.

There they stand. Genya with fright written all over his face and Sanemi with orbs so empty you’re almost able to see through them.

Your guts turn uncomfortably as he speeds forward so fast that your eyes are almost unable to follow. Fuck, is he about to pierce through Genya’s eyes?

You waste no time. In the matter of milliseconds, you drag Genya to the ground and therefore safe him from Sanemi’s merciless attack.

“Sanemi.”

You breathe out his name like a prayer.

“Get out of line, (y/n).”

“I can’t allow you to hurt him!”, you cry out, hands still holding onto Genya’s trembling body for dear life.

“You leave me no choice, then.”

It happens faster than you’re able to think. He dashes forward while grabbing the handle of his sword tightly, his eyes and blade darted towards you.

But you don’t even think about leaving Genya. No, you stand your ground in front of him, glossy orbs watching as his blade crashes down straight towards your face.

Until it stops.

“I said move”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“And I said I won’t. Leave Genya alone.”

“Are you really putting up a fight with me, (y/n)? Here, right in front of everyone else?”

You couldn’t care less about the stinging fact that the others are watching you drowned in fear. This goes too far without any doubt.

“You don’t have to do this, Sanemi. Not when we both know you love your little brother dearly”, you breathe out.

“Come on Genya, let’s leave”, Tanjiro’s voice mutters behind you, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

“I don’t love anyone. Not him, not you, I don’t give a shit about anyone around here”, Sanemi barks back at you with nothing but hatred spilling from his mouth.

Genya doesn’t deserve those words reaching his ear. But apart from that, you can’t escape the sting that fills your heart with agony.

Him, not loving anyone? Of course you never really expected the wind hashira to actually like you back. Of course even him respecting you is more than you could have ever asked for. But somehow you still hoped. Each and every night, you imagined what if would feel like to lay in his arms while listening to his steady heartbeat. Every free second, you pondered about how his lips must feel pressed against yours, how it feels to fall asleep and wake up next to him.

And now he tells you that you mean nothing to him.

You swallow hard, desperately trying to avoid his gaze at any cause. No, you can’t afford to lose yourself right here when everyone is watching.

Out of instinct, you straighten your shoulders and cross your arms in front of your chest.

“If that’s the case, I’m leaving. Good night, wind hashira.”

You don’t care about waiting for an answer. All you want to do right now is going back into your room, going back into safety where he’s not around. How stupid to even consider that Sanemi Shinazugawa could feel anything apart from a little respect for you. You, nothing but an ordinary slayer, still too weak to be called a real hashira. You, apparently nothing but a fool.

Hot tears start to swell up your eyes and cause your vision to get foggy. You never allowed yourself to cry over something so minor. What did you expect, a gut-wrenching love story? With the wind hashira?

“Why did you turn your back on me?”

You flinch so hard that you almost trip over your futon.

“What are you doing here?”, you cry out.

Fuck, this is him, without any doubt. What on earth is Sanemi doing in your room? Just now, when you’re looking like a mess.

“Are you crying?”

“Even if I do, why would you care?”

When your gaze drifts towards his, you feel like drowning and taking your first breath at the same time. He looks so distressed that your heart wrenches all over again. Like a lost puppy, he draws closer until he cages you against the wall. His eyes seem to stare right through your soul, make it hard to produce a single logical thought.

“Why would you even think that, idiot?”

His hand yanks your chin up, forces you to stare at him even more intensely.

“Because you said so yourself”, you bite back.

“You shouldn’t have interrupted me in the middle of teaching Genya a lesson.”

“Teaching him a lesson? You’re breaking that poor boy’s heart-“

“Breaking him? I’m saving him, goddamn!”, he blurts out so suddenly that you shake.

“Saving him? What are you t-“

“Poking his eyes out isn’t that big of a deal, he’d definitely survive. But his career at the demon slayer corps would have been over and out, he would have been saved”, he mumbles frantically.

“That would have meant he’s save, that would have meant he doesn’t die in this shit-“

“Sanemi”, your hands grab his face gently, try to get him out of his constant mumbling.

“He’ll die just like our mother did.”

“Sanemi.”

“I can’t fucking protect you all. Not when you’re around as well, not when you’re not listening just like he does-“

“Sanemi.”

When your eyes meet his, he looks like a troubled child scared of thunder. His glossy orbs stare at you desperately, make your heart ache all over again. All that rambling, giving Genya his coldest shoulder…to protect him?

“You’re just as reckless as him. Not looking out for yourself. What am I supposed to do without both of you around? What if I lose you two as well?”

“You won’t lose anyone, I’m good enough to-“

“How can you know?”, he screams into your face, his voice vibrating through every cell of your body like thunder.

“How can you promise you won’t die? One wrong move and you’re gonna bite the dust. Or you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time like Rengoku-“

It might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life, so reckless that you’ll lose Sanemi completely.

But you don’t care.

Before he’s able to talk about the grief within the past any further, you crash your lips against his while holding onto his face for dear life.

Over and over, again and again until your mind finally shuts up, until it’s only you and Sanemi and his puffy lips against yours.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you allow your knees to give in, bodies resting against each other so desperately that you feel like dreaming. Countless nights you pondered about the way his frame feels pressed against yours, what the wind hashira might taste like.

Oh, the reality is so much better, so good that you have to convince yourself you’re not dreaming.

“You’re driving me insane. Since the first time I saw you training with Obanai, since you beamed at me with that sickening gorgeous smile. I can’t escape you. I can’t fucking lose you”, he hisses against your mouth before entangling his tongue with yours all over again.

Sparks fly, stars take up your sight completely as you threaten to choke on all the affection and love that hits you with full force.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, you breathe out.

“And risking you’ll never talk to me again? You have to be out of your mind.”

“I’m out of my mind because of you. Because you make me feel all those strange things”, you puff out.

Faster than you’re able to react, he pulls his face away from yours enough to almost drown inside your glossy orbs. For a moment, all the does is staring at you as you desperately gasp for air with your chest rising and falling rapidly. This really happened. Did you really make out with the wind hashira after he tried to murder his little brother, after all the fighting and rambling of today?

“You’re my weakness, (y/n)”, he finally blurts out.

“And I hate that power you have over me. Especially that everyone else knows it.”

You tilt your head to the side. Oh, that’s so true. After all, this is the reason why you were sent here. You are here to make sure he doesn’t go too rough on his students, that his hot temper is kept at least a little cool.

Well, given the heat that radiates from him at this very moment, the last part definitely didn’t go as planned.

“They know about my feeling for you as well.”

His eyes widen while he stares you up and down in sheer disbelief.

“Stop fucking with me”, he grumbles.

“You were too blind to realize that I loved you for so long while I didn’t even think about the opportunity that you might like me back”, you admit with your cheeks turning as hot as the sun.

“You fool.”

He yanks your chin towards his face, a small smile decorating his usual so irritated face.

“I’ll definitely never let you go again now.”

His lips crash into yours and leave your mind blank all over again.

“But I’ll still kick your ass for talking to me so disrespectfully and interfering with Genya.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine (thank you sooo much for helping me creating reader for the cover)

[maopll]

Helloooo!!!! really interesting event you have going on here :D . a couple pennies for my request?

Can I get a "Hot things they do" prompt with

HSR: Jing Yuan, Sunday, and Boothill Genshin: Neuvillete and Pantalone

Gn!Reader please and thank you <3

HOT THINGS THEY DO

⋆·˚ you swoon over and practically drool whenever he does something which you love to the moon and back. even the simplest of things has you feeling something burning and fluttering inside ...

note : anon you've got tastes. I don't know if there is anything particular I like that they do everything will have me folding over.

sfw // fluff a lil goofy, slight suggestive gn!reader

— ୨ JING YUAN ୧

His breathy laughter is the best of both worlds. Nothing compares to it. Although you are a big fan of his chuckle whenever he is in a tight spot or has it figured out, his laughter is still incomparable.

But he kind of disagrees with you on this since he would have approved it if it was his thighs. He knows how thick they are and how the strap around his upper thigh makes it look even more enticing. "Who says I don't like it?" you retort.

— ୨ SUNDAY ୧

Whenever he is in deep thought, he would leave his pen, cross his arms and would run his fingers through his hair. Most of the time his hair is prim and proper. But when he puffs his chest up in frustration , eyes squinting , and hair a little bit messy, you can confirm that you become like a victorian man seeing ankles.

"Is this the way you like it?" Sunday says a bit unsure as he is practically wearing something that looks diametrically opposite from what he wears. Shirt, jeans, jacket, cap and all the items that screams 'rock metal genre'.

"Stay still pretty boy I need a good picture for my wallpaper"

— ୨ BOOTHILL ୧

"Babe I find you really hot when you threaten people to kill them whenever they try being real mushy mushy with me"

"You muddle fudger I can't even curse them with the real scary words and you liked that?" Boothill stares at you bewildered. "Your synesthesia beacon working overtime and your hands pointing the gun at him as you threaten to do the wildest shit to him if he ever touches me is very very hot you wouldn't understand". He would usually comply with whatever you say but this time he truly thinks that you've got a few screws loose there. But maybe that's your charm and your 'hot thing'.

"Well if you find THAT hot then ..." he swifts you off your feet and places his hat onto your head "don't you like it when I do this hmm sweetie ?"

— ୨ NEUVILLETTE ୧

While the things or his actions are mostly adorable or gentlemanly, even he has his sides which would leave your heart beating fast and hard. But oh lord have mercy on you because when he would tie his hair messily to focus on his paperwork, you fold.

Neuvillette was about to sit down after he tied his hair in a ponytail, but you noticed his tied hair and without thinking you blurted out,

"Do it again"

"Do what again ?"

"Tie your hair again.. I wanna see..."

He obliged to your request like he usually does even though he was a little confused, but when he turned around to face you, you were blushing HARD and one of your hands was on your chin as if scrutinising his every movement and every flex of his muscles. Neuvillette just chuckled at your antics. "Like what you see dear?" "Very much..." you strided towards him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. No matter how many times you ask such silly requests of him, he will always fulfil them.

— ୨ PANTALONE ୧

You didn't know what captivated you to like pantalone and you wanted to find what was something he did that made you find it hot. Lo and behold you found it when he was threatening one of the fatui members.

Two new recruits were standing at esse in front of Pantalone, who was eyeing them from top to bottom. "So... cryogunner... what was the order?" The cryogunner, after swallowing down the lump in his throat with hesitation, replied, "s— sir ... we had to take down the owner of the illegal organisation–"

"And what was the result I received?" his voice cold and eyes piercing. His anger were visible in his eyes even though it did not reflect on his face. "Out of my sights right now the punishment that you two will receive for not abiding to the order will be not so savoury"

The two fatui scurried away after shouting a 'yes sir'. After they left, he removed his glasses and scrunched his face rubbing his temple. Looks like more work got added to his already pending list of tasks. His eyes were full of wrath and anger muttering archons know what

you chuckle "you know your face is doing things to me babe"

"dear I'm not in the mood—" but looking at your face has him rethinking his decision. You biting your lips and eyes dazed... hmm looks like you've found the way to relieve his stress then?

"It's going to be a rough day hm? dear"

[princessbrunette]

cant get the idea of puppy!reader just sitting down on john b's lap and feverishly making out with him at a party- she does NOT care if he's in the middle of a conversation.

✧˖°. ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ✧˖°.

you’re sloppy and fairly careless when you’re sober — so lord knows what you are drunk. you’d like to blame john b for your actions. sat there, talking away to other party goers on the couch. he’s wearing that flannel — the soft one that you always steal to go to sleep in, but it looks different on him. better. where he’s slouched on the couch, legs spread, the fat on his tummy makes a little hill beneath his shirt, a couple of extra pounds being gained since you started your relationship. he was still firm in all the other places, but the extra meat made him warmer, heavier, more cuddly and fuckable. it made you wanna be on him all the time.

so you stumble over, forever the light weight and jj announces your presence with a smirk, knowing that look in your eye. “uh oh, here comes trouble.” he says as you approach, but you don’t feel like you’re causing trouble — not when john b turns his gaze from his conversation to look at you with that soft smile like you were his everything. god, you had to have him.

you straddle his lap, giggling and falling on him and he effortlessly rectifies this, pulling you in a more comfortable position. he puckers his lips for the kiss first, probably hoping for a peck and getting a lot more bang for his buck. you place clammy hands on his cheeks and place intimate open mouthed kisses on his lips, breathing into his mouth all needy and desperate. seriously, people had to look away because it was so much — anyone would think he was hitting it raw right there on the couch from the way you was kissing him.

“slow your roll, partner.” he smirks against your lips, trying to ease you up in a kind way as to not embarrass you whilst reminding you that you’re in public — but you knew, you just didn’t care.

“missed you daddy…” you mewl against his mouth and he’s still smirking, clearly amused by the whole thing.

“missed me all the way from the drinks table?” he pulls back as much as he can, cocking an eyebrow and you giggle, hands roaming wherever you could reach. you were currently pawing at his chest, but he was taking it as a sign to escort you out because he knew it was only a matter of time because you start grabbing at his dick through his jeans.

“uh-huh.” you beam, eyes hazy and voice slurred. he gives your ass a subtle squeeze, purely because he can’t help himself and you groan, already knowing that you’re oozing on his leg.

“uh-huh.” he repeats with that same low register that made you need him, a grin of his own lingering as he stares for a moment before switches on his social face and turns to the crowd, shuffling in the seat to sit up more with you in his lap, talking over your shoulder to his friends. “aaaand on that note. i’m gonna get this one home. think she’s had a little too much.” he scrunches his nose, lifting you easily to stand on your own two feet and gripping your waist to ensure you won’t fall.

“we’re gonna fuck!” you announce happily with your arms in the air, luckily causing the small group to erupt into laughter because john b without hesitation chooses to duck down and throw you over his shoulder instead.

“aaalright. enough from you.” he shakes his head, instinctually pulling your skirt down to protect your decency before offering a final wave to his friends, manoeuvring you to the exit.

✧˖°. ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ✧˖°.

[norrisleclercf1]

But You? You Are Mine

Pairing: Assistant!Reader x Mafia!Jenson Button

Rating: R for violence and language

Words: 4.8K

Warnings: Blood, death, kidnapping, Bernie Ecclestone (yeah man gets his own warning) etc.

Synopsis: Jenson finally learns the truth, in the worse way possible

Mafia Jenson: pt.1 Unattainable / pt.2 Slipping Through My Fingers / pt.3 He's Not Yours

A/N: Whoops, sorry for lying @percervall

Before he was born, Jenson thought he found the meaning of love. Love meant seeing you in the morning, smiling when he brought you your coffee, or when he would crack a joke, how you'd glow when he gave you a gift. To him, seeing you so happy was love for him; he wanted to have that every day. He wanted you every day. And for each day, for 10 years, he had you, but now, you had someone else.

Jenson learned true love when he held that gorgeous little blonde boy for the first time. Seeing how his pure ocean eyes stare up at him, the boy gets the little gummy smile when he sees Jenson each time. Jenson fell harder and harder. If this is what a parent's love is like, he never wants it to end.

Here he was, 3 am, with barely any sleep, and he couldn't be happier as little Theo didn't want anyone but Jenson at that moment. You were lying in Jenson's bed, as Jenson bounced softly in front of it, whispering how Theo should be sleeping right now. The brilliant boy giggles, Jenson shushing him, looking back, seeing you curled up to his pillows, fast asleep.

"You being clingy doesn't help Mommy get any sleep," Jenson whispers. Theo gurgles, his little pudgy hands reaching up for Jenson. Leaning down, the little boy cups his father's face, giggling, and Jenson closes his eyes, basking in the sound before kissing him on his rosy cheek. "Oh Theo, you love so purely. If only you knew that I'm not a good man," Jenson whispers, holding the boy closer, scared that he'd wake at any moment and none of this would be true.

You wouldn't be in Jenson's bed, Theo wouldn't exist, and Jenson would wake up in the cold bed with you still distant, yet so close to him. Jenson never wants this dream to end. "Jenson," Turning, he sees you squinting but then gets a laziness but loved-filled smile at seeing Theo half asleep in your boss's arms. "Come back to bed," You plead, holding out your hand, eyes so filled with sleep that Jenson almost groans, seeing how you want him next to you.

"Theo is almost asleep, love, I promise," Jenson whispers, but you shake your head. Theo is almost 1 now, and since that day in the hospital, you and Jenson....grew closer; it drove the others crazy, as they wanted nothing more than for you two to admit you're a couple. Still, neither of you would say the words. "Just bring him to bed with you," Lying back down, you pull Jenson's side of the covers back, and Jenson melts; nodding his head, he moves and lies down, Theo between you two.

Theo settles instantly, sucking on his pacy, ocean eyes drooping, which has always made you two giggle at how hard he tries to fight off sleep. "Jenson," Your voice is soft, hand ghosting his cheek, which has him looking up from Theo. "You are a good man. Do you understand me? You are a very good man, too good." Emotions well up in you. Between you two, Jenson was a saint, no matter if he was running the largest British Mafia, while you're lying to Jenson with each breath you take.

"No," He breathed, cuddling closer, careful not to crush Theo, who was now passed out, sleeping, winning the battle this time. "No, you're the better one; you gave me love; that's all I could ask for," Jenson whispers, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath to stop the tears from falling. "You're the best person for him, don't ever change that, just....always be there for him, please," You whisper, unsure what you would do if Jenson ever left.

"I'll always be there for him. Just get some sleep, love; I'll be here when you wake," Nodding, you let your hand rest on top of Jenson's that's resting on Theo's tiny stomach. "I'll always be here," Jenson whispers,

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

Theo giggles as Lewis lifts him up above his head, Lewis chuckling as you try to finish up some paperwork. "He's been acting weird, Lewis," You whisper, staring at the door where a meeting is occurring. You weren't allowed in for the first time ever. "Don't stress over it. You don't have to be at every meeting, ya know," Lewis smiles, but his words are tight as he blows raspberries on Theo's chubby cheeks, not caring about the drool as Theo chews on his fist.

"Lewis, he's drooling everywhere," You chuckle and lean back, grabbing a bib and wiping your son's mouth, who smiles so wide, you feel your heart stop. He's got Jenson's smile. "How's mini Button?" Lewis and you freeze, relaxing when you see it's Mark who quickly takes Theo from Lewis. "He looks more like Sebastian," Lewis quickly counters, but Mark just shrugs and stares at Theo for a second. "Sure, he's got his eyes," You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, trying to remain calm.

The older Theo got, the more he inherited his actual birth father's features, and it was starting to scare you. "How is Sebastian?" You whisper, having not spoken to him since you told him you were pregnant and needed him to pretend to be a deadbeat father, who really needed to stay away due to Mark, Mark, who just got back from a delegation meeting with them.

"Fine, didn't even ask about Theo, which pissed me off. Knocks you up, bolts, and doesn't have the balls to even ask about his baby boy," Mark spits, Theo squeals and slaps the stubble on Mark's cheeks, who smiles and tickles his stomach. "Yes, yes, your daddy is a bad man," Mark says in a baby voice, which has you and Lewis snickering. It was so odd to see Mark interacting with the baby cause for the first 6 months, he refused to hold Theo until Jenson shoved him into his arms, and now, Mark will just take him out of your arms without warning and refuse to give him back when asked by either you or Jenson.

"Doesn't Jenson have a huge meeting today? Why aren't you with him?" Mark asks, and you stick your hand out to him, staring at Lewis as if saying, 'See, I told you so.' Lewis rolls his eyes, but even he must admit that it's rare for you to be included in the meeting. "Alright, I'll admit that it's odd, okay? Who's he even meeting with?" Spinning in your chair, you pull up Jenson's schedule and see who he is meeting with.

"Um, it... what?" you whisper and start clicking around, looking for who he could meet with. "It doesn't say; it's not even on a personal calendar; he scheduled this himself." You whisper, and a horrible feeling settles in your stomach. "He did this without me knowing," Mark and Lewis share a look but don't say anything as the meeting room door bangs open, startling Theo, who starts to cry.

A man walks out, furious and short, with snow-white hair, a matching beard, and beady little eyes. You quickly move and grab Theo, wanting to hide him from this man's gaze. Mark and Lewis promptly stand in front of you as you try to calm Theo, who cries loudly. You know that he probably wants Jenson, shushing him. You bounce softly as the man stops looking at the four of you, getting the nastiest look ever on his face. "Well, if it isn't Button's whore and his little followers," The man growls; Mark steps right in front of you, his face turning murderous as he glares him down.

Lewis moves to your side, trying to help Theo calm down. "Ecclestone! Get the fuck away from them," Theo whimpers hearing his Papa's familiar voice and babbles, reaching out for Jenson, who equally looks furious. "Or what Button? Do you think you're so powerful now? Well, nothing will stop me from getting what I want," You step back, Jenson's face changing as he sees Theo is with you instead of the nanny; immediately, he feels this overpowering urge to protect you and his child.

"Ecclestone, either get the fuck out, or I'll give Fernando and Felipe a call and tell them you're here," Jenson seethes, stepping closer to you two. The old man clocks the movement but does nothing as he knows Felipe Massa would kill him without a second thought, "This won't end here," The man turns and stalks out, Jenson quickly moving to you two and pulling you into his arms, looking over you in a hurry. "Did he touch you?" Jenson's voice is tight as he tries to control his anger.

"Dada," Theo babbles, a new word he's been using a lot, twisting his body to reach out for Jenson, who happily takes Theo and holds the back of his head, taking a deep breath, knowing he's safe in his arms. "How could you two let that man near them," Jenson seethes, and Mark scuffs. "Watch it mate; how were we supposed to know you were meeting with Bernie fucking Ecclestone," Mark snaps, and Theo whimpers, not liking the loud noises.

"Stop, please. You're scaring Theo," Jenson freezes, hearing those words, and immediately starts whispering soft words of love, telling his boy how much he loves him. "Jenson, you met with him and didn't even tell me who that man is?" You try to shove down the betrayed feeling, but you have no right to feel betrayed, not when holding the biggest secret. "He is no one, an old bastard from the past that should've died years ago; why Massa lets him keep living is beyond me, ever since Singapore," Jenson shakes his head, and Lewis's shoulders tighten. "Can we not talk about it," Jenson and Mark scuff, "Why? You came out squeaky clean and the biggest winner ever," Lewis scowls, looking down at his hands.

"Doesn't matter, leave the devils in the past," "Kinda hard to do when we are the devils," Mark comments, and you are suddenly aware that they all have a past, secrets, dark secrets that they will never tell you, no matter how close you all become, you'll never truly become one of them. "Y/n, please, baby, look at me," Looking up, you stare into the eyes of the man you love, the one you can never breathe those 3 words to. Those words would get him, or you killed, "If you ever, and I mean ever, see that man again, you take Theo and you run; I mean it, please, Y/n, please," Jenson begs, and you nod your head; Theo reaching out for you.

"Mama," You smile and gently take Theo, bouncing him softly, which makes him giggle. His blotchy cheeks have your heartache, but Jenson leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of Theo's head, then kisses you softly. "Lewis, Mark, take them home for me?" "No, I have work today, and we have other meetings," "No," Jenson snaps; your eyes widen, as Jenson never raised his voice at you. "No, you're going home with the baby; I need to know you two are safe; don't leave their side," He tells the two, who nod and gather your and Theo's things.

"I'll be home soon, promise," Jenson leans in, stealing one last kiss before walking down the hall to his office. Sighing, you follow out, stopping when you see Bernie Ecclestone staring at you. But more importantly, his eyes stay trained on the stroller with Theo. Mark clocks it and immediately steps in the way, Bernie scuffing and climbing into a thick army-built SUV.

"Let's get you home, okay," Mark whispers and helps you load everything up.

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

It's been three weeks since you met Ecclestone. You noticed the increase in security almost immediately. Jenson kept waving you off, saying that Theo needed the extra security as he got older. More people started to learn that Jenson Button was seen with a baby. Still, you had a feeling that wasn't really the case. Today was enough; after having Theo, you didn't feel like yourself; you didn't feel like your confident, badass self, but now, you were tired of Jenson walking over you.

Staring at your closet, you smirk and pick out a black pencil skirt that has a slit in the back, going up your mid-calf and stopping, pairing it with was deep red wine button-up and styling your hair your favorite way, and doing your favorite makeup. You look in the mirror and smirk, loving the old confident badass was back, and you were about to get your answers.

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

"Don't tell Y/n, please," Jenson pleads, not wanting you to learn about the real reason for the security increase. He didn't want you to worry, letting him deal with this stress more than anything. "Jense, you need to tell her," Lewis grumbles, sometimes hating being best friends with both of you. Hearing the elevator, Lewis freezes as he hears the familiar click of So Kate's on the marble floors, Jenson grumbling and not paying attention as you slam down your purse.

"You have a meeting, Mr. Button, at 10. Is there a reason you're sitting around my desk?" Jenson looks up, his eyes widening as he takes in the person before him. Fuck, he's screwed. You're wearing his favorite office outfit you wore before the pregnancy. God he loved you before, during, and after the pregnancy. Still, he won't lie, saying he missed your tight-ass pencil skirts and wonderful button-ups that stopped right at the curve of your breasts. Still, ever since the pregnancy, they've gotten thicker, making his suit pants tighter.

"You're back?" Lewis asks, suddenly loving this turn of events. "Yes, I realized that after having Theo, I turned soft on your asses, and that's going to change; now, why are you still here? Meeting in 10," You point to the boardroom, and Jenson groans, leaning in to kiss you, but you grab his chin hard, and he freezes.

"You don't deserve to kiss me. You've been lying to me about my son," "Our son," Lewis and you both freeze, and panic sets in fuck did he find out, but you two have been so careful to not let him know. "Our son, Y/n, I'm helping raise him; he's my son too, not by blood, but by love; he's mine." Jenson's eyes are hard as he pulls back and clears his throat. "Also, I haven't been hiding anything. I would tell you if I was. I love you too much to lie to you," He fixes his tie and stalks off, leaving you with a cotton taste in your mouth.

"Don't, just don't, Lewis," Lewis says nothing but leans closer and kisses your cheek. "Secrets are like poison; we swallow it each day to get stronger, but it does nothing but rip us apart slowly and painfully," You look down, staring at a picture of Jenson and Theo. It was taken at home; Jenson was shirtless again, displaying his tattoos. Theo was peacefully asleep, and Jenson was sleeping in the rocker; it was your favorite picture. How similar they look when they sleep makes you hate yourself for lying to Jenson about everything.

"Well shit, look who is looking gorgeous," Turning around, you smile brightly, seeing Fernando; moving quickly, you jump into your friend's arms, who holds you close and kisses your cheek. "Eh, Jenson pissed you off, so you decided to pull out the old pencil skirt?" You snort and hit his chest, which makes him giggle. "No, I realized I let this place go and need to straighten it out again; anyway, can I ask you a question?" You didn't know how to bring this up, but you needed to.

"Always," Fernando says, leading you both to the seating area across from your desk. "Is Bernie Ecclestone dangerous?" Fernando's face turns dark, making your skin crawl and the hairs on the back of your neck tingle with his look. "How do you know that name?" He growls, his hands tightening on yours so hard you wince, causing him to let them go. "He was here, talked to Jenson about 3 weeks ago, and Jenson increased security significantly after the interaction.

"Y/n, please stay away from that man, Ecclestone; he's," Fernando takes a deep breath, sighing as he tries to explain who Ecclestone is. "He used to be our old boss before we all went our separate ways and built our own mafias; he used to own us; we were basically his mutts. Did all his dirty work, and he didn't care who he fucked over to get it done. One night, there was a deal in Singapore; Felipe Massa, one of our close friends, was close to getting something he'd wanted for a long time. He was so close to getting it, but I came to find out that one of us was asked to crash the operation and give me an upper hand without my knowledge. Anyways, Felipe was furious, he was screwed over, and Lewis, well, if that didn't happen the way it did, Lewis wouldn't be who he is." Fernando takes a breath as you lean forward.

"After that night, we were all furious. Someone betrayed us and played us against one another. Come to find, Ecclestone betrayed us, and we all vowed revenge; Lewis, Felipe, and Jenson headhunted the whole thing. Jenson took most of the money and destroyed Ecclestone's reputation; now he's back for revenge. That's why Jenson is this way. I wouldn't be surprised if that old bastard made threats against you and Theo." Fernando leans back in his chair, and you mull over everything he says.

"He should've just told me the truth," Fernando scuffs, shaking his head. "You two aren't really the best at telling the truth. Don't be throwing rocks at glass houses, darling." Your blood runs cold as you stare at Fernando, who seems bored. "Come now, I know Sebastian, and I know how much he's panting after my man's cock, he's a fucker, but he wouldn't leave his child. Besides, Theo looks far too much like Jenson did as a baby," You blink slowly, opening and closing your mouth.

"Don't make excuses, you and Lewis, I'm sure you did what you did for a reason, but you didn't take into account that those Button genes are strong," Fernando chuckles, pushing his hair out of his face. "You must hate me for keeping this from him," Fernando shrugs, "Eh, not really. You're protecting your child, doing what's best for him, but you're lucky that a great man loves you and is willing to raise another man's child, even though that child is his." Fernando picks imaginary lint off his clothes and sizes you up.

"But, if I was Jenson," Fernando leans in, smirking, "No matter how good of friends you and I are, I would've killed you for this stunt you're pulling," Fernando smiles, patting your cheek as he stands and stretches. "See you around, darling," you stare wide-eyed as you watch Fernando walk off, leaving you stunned.

Fernando is right; you're lucky that Jenson is a good man.

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

After learning the truth, you couldn't help but feel like someone was watching you, and you refused to leave Theo alone for more than a few seconds. You were even nervous to leave him alone with Jenson, and Jenson would die before letting anything hurt Theo.

You are standing in the grocery store, Theo teething with some silicone toys you bought to help his aching teeth. Moving around, you notice that your guards stay back, giving you the semi-normalcy you requested; Theo gurgles loudly, and you giggle, making silly faces at him as you cash out, smiling at the sweet cashier who compliments Theo. You smile, or at least try to be unable to shake this feeling in your gut.

Moving through the parking lot, your guards are behind you, but they keep a distance to not draw attention to you; getting to your car, you giggle as Theo lets out a belly laugh when you drop your keys; bending down, you stand back up and freeze, seeing the man in all black, sitting in the back of your car holding a gun, pointed to Theo. "Scream or alert your guards, and I will kill the little bastard," Theo giggles, clueless, as you hand the keys to Theo.

"Don't hurt him, take me, okay? Whatever you want, just take me," You whisper, seeing your guards climb into their cars, waiting for you. "Do what you normally do and climb into the car. When you get in, we'll switch, understand me," You nod and smile, not wanting to scare Theo. You load the groceries, moving quickly, and load Theo into the car, and your blood runs cold. Then, you finally notice the second man in the car.

You try your best to stay calm, thinking over every possible scenario. "Get in," the first man says, and you nod; as he moves to the middle seat, Theo giggles and is curious about who the men are in the car with you two. "It's going to be okay, Theo, we're going to see Daddy," Theo squeals and claps his hands, repeating, Dada, "Cute kid," The second guy comments, and you give a wobbly smile as you get into the driver's side. "Move to the passenger seat,"

Listening to the command, you climb into the passenger seat, the mysterious men firing up your SUV. They pull out of the parking lot, and you watch as your bodyguards' cars follow. "Listen, just tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. Jenson will give you anything, just please," You plead. The men share a look as they start to drive through the woods back to Jenson's house. "Lady, we don't give a fuck what you have to offer, we're just doing a job," the second man rumbles,

"Ecclestone," you whisper, the fear gripping your chest so hard you can't breathe. Listen, we don't really like hurting kids, but the money was too good to pass up. Besides, we need you to give Jenson the message." The car's door unlocks, and your eyes grow wide. Tell him Ecclestone wants back what he and he'll return his son." "No!" you scream as you reach for the wheel, the car swerving.

The driver's arm snaps out, bursts blood in your mouth as he slams his fist into your face, "Get the bitch out!" He screams; as your door is thrown open, you receive another hit as the car swerves and sends you flying out, hitting something hard. You roll, cars screeching, the sound of metal crunching, and a scream as you watch through blurred vision, your car driving off with your son in the car.

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

Slamming the doors open, Jenson runs through the pale white hallways; the last time he was here, you were in a coma; now you were in a wreck, and Theo was taken. "Y/n Button, where is she?" Jenson slams his hand on the counter, the nurses jumping and pointing to the room, where cops swarmed it. Gritting his jaw, he storms into the room and stops dead in his tracks, seeing you.

An arm wrapped in white gauze, cheek bruised black, and mouth split open. Looking up, you notice him, and tears burn your throat and eyes. "Jenson," Ignoring the cops, he slams his way through the bodies and wraps his arms softly around you, no matter how much he wants to squeeze you tight. "They took Theo, I'm sorry, it's all my fault, they...they placed a gun to his head," You sob, Jenson having to control his anger and taking a deep breath.

"Out, I want everyone out," The cops stop talking and file out as Lewis, Mark, and Fernando slide into the room. "Where's Theo?" Lewis whispers, and you shake your head. The three men instantly join you as Lewis takes your empty side, and you curl into his side, hiding your face.

They stay silent for a while, listening to your tears as Jenson sighs and lets you go. "I need to call Sebastian," Jenson whispers, pulling away from you as he knows Sebastian will want to know his son has been taken. "Why?" You ask, wiping your eyes as Lewis wipes some blood from your lip gently. "Why? Y/n, Theo is his son,"

"Ecclestone," "What?" The room erupts into noise as you flinch, the men yelling over one another. "Stop!" Fernando roars, suddenly in front of you, grabbing your shoulders. "What the fuck does Ecclestone have to do with this?" Jenson steps forward, but Mark moves to stand in the way. "Stop, Jenson, we need these answers," "Y/n, darling, what do you mean Ecclestone," You take a deep breath, trying to gain feeling again, but you can't. Your heart was taken from you.

"Ecclestone, he," You take another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. "Ecclestone hired two men to take Theo; they said they don't hurt children, but," A broken sound leaves your mouth, leaving the men to flinch. "But, the money was too good," You blubber, wiping your eyes as you try your hardest not to picture Theo crying for you or Jenson.

"They said that if Jenson returned what's Ecclestone, they'd give Theo back," you whimper. Jenson stares at you and shakes his head. "But, why take Theo? I know I'm raising him, but Ecclestone must know that Theo's father is Sebastian, not me," You feel your anger bubble as you stand up on wobbling legs, "He's not! He's not Sebastians! "He's yours. He's always been yours," You scream, the tears falling, skin burning as you scream the truth finally out at Jenson.

Laughing, Jenson shakes his head and steps back. "No, he's Sebastian, you said it, Sebastian said it, fuck, I mean, he even looks like Seb with the blonde hair and eyes," You stare at the man you've slowly fallen in love with, shake his head, and deny the truth. "Jenson, it's true," Lewis whispers; Jenson looks up. Betrayal, hurt, anger, disbelief, and genuine terror rip across Jenson's face before settling on pure fury.

"He's my son, he's my blood, and you hid that from me," Jenson storms forward, but Mark and Fernando quickly grab him and push him back. "Stop, she did what she thought was right." "How!! How is hiding the fact that I was raising my son, but I thought he was someone else's? HE'S MINE AND YOU LIED!" Jenson roars, causing you to flinch.

"I'm sorry, we weren't together, and with your life, I knew that it would be better for Theo and safer for you than if no one knew the truth." "But Lewis does," You snap your mouth shut, Lewis shifting his weight to stand in front of you slightly. "And judging by Mark and Fernando's reactions, they knew, so me, the true father, was left in the dark, forever heartbroken that the woman I LOVE HAD A BABY WITH SOMEONE ELSE!" Jenson turns and slams his fist into the wall.

Turning around, he shakes his head, takes deep breaths, and steps close to you. Everyone is on edge as Jenson grabs your face and pulls you close, kissing your forehead. "I'll be back, and we'll talk about this like adults, but right now, I have to go get our son," placing one last kiss on your forehead, you nod and watch as Jenson leaves the room silently.

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

"Please, please, I'm sorry," Jenson stands before Ecclestone, covered in the blood of the two men who had taken his baby. "You're a pathetic fool, should let Massa end you, but you touched my wife, my son, and I'm tired of you," Jenson cocks the gun as the pleas to live get louder. Still, Jenson scuffs and shoots Ecclestone through his head, watching as he crumbles into a lifeless puppet.

"Sir, we've got him." Jenson smiles and coos as Theo blinks at him with bleary eyes and whines. "Oh, did someone take a nap? Had a tiring day, didn't you, my gorgeous boy?" Jenson whispers and takes Theo into his arms, bouncing as he kisses the top of his head. "Dada," Theo whines and snuggles into his hold, Jeson sighing as Theo's weight back in his arms just feels right.

"Yeah, baby, Dada," Jenson repeats and closes his eyes, letting the silent tears fall. "Yeah, it's Dada," Jenson mummers again as he makes the walk back to the car and gently places him in his car seat. "Alright, time to go home,"

[hopeastrz]

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐗🧺✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

𝟓𝟎% 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐄 ON ALL OF MY CHART READINGS!.

check previous observations (𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄)

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫/𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬…

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: i chose to analyze my previous SR charts so these observations are based on my own experience!, also 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!.

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈: 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒🦚✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝐓𝐚𝘂𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝐦𝐚𝗿𝘀 really hate getting hungry they turn to a very angry hulk when they want food but there isn’t any around them yet!— full taurus, happy taurus.

I think 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝘁𝘆 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞𝘀 are overrated and here’s a hot-take, we have 12th houses and 10 planets, even if it’s possible to have a planet in each house there’ll be 2 houses empty, surprise there will always be an empty house in your chart, and that doesn’t have to mean necessarily a bad thing!.

Having 0 planets on the 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞 for example may mean that you just don’t focus about that house matters daily, yes you take care of your health but your life doesn’t revolve around it!, you go to the gym every now and then, eat decent meals, and that it!, unlike 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐬 people you’re not a gym rat, and you may not stick to a diet routine throughout your life, it’s that simple, also please correct me if i’m wrong!.

I noticed that when 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝘂𝘀 𝐚𝘀𝐩𝐞𝐜𝘁𝘀 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧(especially neutral and harmonious aspects) it blesses these natives with a great talent and love for cooking and they also don’t cook for anyone just people whom they cherish.

On the other hand 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝘀𝐩𝐞𝐜𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐩𝘁𝘂𝐧𝐞 people may consider cooking as an escapism for them, whenever they feel drained or stressed they may bake a cake or a warm meal to make themselves feel better, and they also may be the type to cook with wines and vodka!.

𝐀𝐪𝘂𝐚𝗿𝐢𝘂𝘀 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝘁𝘀 have an extremely chaotic life and I’m not even joking, they go through the weirdest situations ever.. like please explain to me what could possibly lead you to get lost at an empty arcade in the middle of the night and instead of seeking help you decide to take some pictures for your snap streaks??? (Yes, that’s actually what a friend of mine did and she’s an aqua dominant💁🏻‍♀️)

Also speaking on 𝐀𝐪𝘂𝐚𝗿𝐢𝐚𝐧𝘀, why do you like surprising people so much?, and i mean it literally with all this pranks and shit, i blame uranus influence tbh.

It is said that people with 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝘁𝘀 are workaholics, but they aren’t the only ones, i believe that 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞𝗿𝘀 are way more work dedicated— and addicted than anyone else, because if there’s a thing they do best is following a routine, that’s why they excel anywhere, you just put a plan for them and they’ll follow!.

Also why do 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝘂𝘀𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝗿𝐨𝐧 believe that their work defines their worth, and the more they get exhausted by work it means it pays off better.. HELLO?? IT DOESN’T WORK THIS WAY IN THIS ECONOMY??? HOSPITAL BILLS ARE DISASTROUS PLEASE TAKE A FREAKING BREAK WHEN NEEDED!

I’m not joking my cousin is about to turn into a giant raccoon with all these dark circles she barley sleeps, barley eats and you can never catch her having a break this woman is about to go crazy💀.

𝐋𝐢𝐛𝗿𝐚 𝘃𝐞𝐧𝘂𝘀 have the best eye for aesthetic, and i know i said it before but really, they have a very strange ability to make things that don’t match actually very presentable beautifully!.

When 𝐉𝘂𝐩𝐢𝘁𝐞𝗿 𝐚𝘀𝐩𝐞𝐜𝘁𝘀 𝐒𝐚𝘁𝘂𝗿𝐧 that makes you choose long term partners very carefully, those people know themselves and their needs well enough to decide what’s good and bad for them, they don’t rush it, that’s why they always get the best outcome, and you can see this manifest in both of Rihanna and Beyoncé birth charts!.

Also 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟏°,𝟐𝟑° people are very, very, veryyyyy creative it’s mind blowing they really think outside the box.

𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬 do actually suffer from hyper independence and you can’t tell me otherwise, i was in a group project with one of my friends (me being a libra sun and them being an Aries sun) i thought that we should have at least one man with us to handle all the tough work and pay for some things yadada, however they on the other hand really wanted to do all this shit by themselves (mind you both of us are the first daughters of our families) and we were supposed to go to god knows where shitty places to get the project done, we really almost killed each other then trying to prove our points.. oh yeah and they ended up winning.

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 have a very, very soft skin and it’s not even a joke anymore im so jealous!, also the chest area is really really prominent no jokes.

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐈: 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 🪴⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

When i had 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧, my grandparents who haven’t visited us for more than 4+ years came back from london (which was considered a miracle since it just wasn’t supposed to happen), and then we both traveled then together on a short trip, and i also noticed that whenever i had 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 i traveled to a place that was full of water, going to a beach, the ocean etc.. and it may also indicate going back to our roots.

My favorite years are the ones with 𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, the amount of joy, new experiences and the excitement that surrounds you throughout the year can’t be described by words only, and it doesn’t really revolve around romantic relationships only, i don’t date and whenever i had my 𝐒𝐮𝐧/𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧/𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐬/𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 it felt like i was healing my inner child, i found myself indulging more in art, these were the years where i got introduced to my most creative and artistic self!.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 is no joke, I felt the need to become my best self 24/7, also my peers in uni got on my nerves more than ever.

When astroblr community said that having 𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐂 grants you luck throughout the year i thought they were joking but no, it’s 100% legit, everything worked in my favor fr, dude even my periods came on the best date’s it’s crazy, oh and i also got social media semi famous, i had 2 reels on instagram pass 2m views (bonus; that year i had 𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨, which means short term or quick fame!)

When i had a 𝟒𝐓𝐇 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫, i felt more connected with my mom, and she also felt the same way— we both talked more with each other! Also I bought lots of posters for my room, and a new vanity!, oh yeah and since it was in leo i noticed that took a good care of my hair, it’s crazy how astrology can be literal sometimes.

[igotanidea]

Haircut: Jason Todd x reader

Inspired by the post from @pop-culturereference about what Jason's fans really want from DC (link here)

***

„AH!!”

An involuntary scream left her mouth the second she came home. Jason was not used to his girlfriend being so expressive, but protective instinct kicked in as he jumped off the couch he was reading a book on and immediately rushed to her side.

“Y/N! Love, what happened?” his hands found hers, squeezing them gently, trying to ground her in reality and assure her that whatever scared her so much was no match for him.

“What happened to you?” she sobbed, not even trying to stop the tears running down her cheeks.

“Huh?” Jason frowned “Look, I know I’m not exactly model handsome, but—”

“WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!” she wailed as if someone was tearing her heart out or squeezing her lungs.

“What are you--?” he tried again, quite taken aback by the intensity of her emotions. She wasn’t ever crying this much when he came home bloodied and bruised. She never let a single muscle on her face twitch while  patching him up. But when he was okay, just chilling and for once – not getting into trouble she got into a waterfall mode. “Y/n? Look at me. Look at me!” he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on him.

“I AM!”

“Then you can see I’m all good. It’s all good! Come on baby, whatever fear took over your brain, you have to wake up from this!”

“Your hair!” she broke into crying fit again

“My hair?” he instinctively ran his fingers through his strands. “What about them?”

“WHERE IS IT?”

Oh.

Oh, so finally they were getting to the bottom of the problem.

He cut his hair shorter than she was used to and clearly she didn’t like it.

“Look, I just thought-“

“Was it Roy? I’m sure it was Roy. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill him! How is it that I leave you guys for a few hours and you always end up causing trouble.”

“It was not—”

“Then who was it? Dick?”

“Ugh! As if I would ever let him anywhere near my head!”

“Then who helped you did this atrocity?” she pressed, taking a look at his inch-long strands.

“I did it myself.” He responded, almost sounding proud.

“You-you-yourself…?” Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she stuttered. Her bag was dropped to the ground with a concerning sound of rattling, but neither of them care about the possibility of something being crashed. They had more urgent matters at the moment. The sense of betrayal slowly started creeping inside her heart.

“It’s just hair—”

“Just hair?! Are you insane?” she snapped at him “You should have asked me what I think first!”

“But—”

“Do not argue with me, Jason! You’re my boyfriend! It is not just about what you like! You can’t just act on whims without finding out my approach to the matter!”

“It’s just hair—” once more, the poor attempt at reaching her reason failed.

“How am I supposed to run my fingers through it now? And how am I supposed to live without your mop tickling me when we cuddle?”

“Y/n…” he smiled softly, cupping her cheek, meeting her eyes

“I liked them longer… I’m sorry if that hits your insecurities, but—”

“It does make me a little unsure, not gonna lie.” He chuckled. “But only a little. Cause what I’m hearing now, is that you liked my wilder look. For example when I was taking the hood off and have my hair all ruffled? Or when I was –”

“I see what you are trying to do here, Mr. Todd and I’m not falling for it.” Y/N read right through his intentions to invoke an innuendo and tried to step back.

“Come on, baby.” Jason quickly grabbed her waist, circling arms around her like two snakes, preventing her from backing out. “Admit it. You liked the bad boy image I had. It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Well it doesn’t anymore—“

“Guess that only means, I’ll have to try twice as hard… Cause too bad for you, sunshine, my hair is gonna stay like that for a while. So you have to like it. “

“Oh really-?”

“Most definitely. In fact, I think I’m gonna ditch the longer hair for good. This kind of haircut is so much more practical, you know. No strands sticking to my forehead when we get sweaty. None of them in my eyes when I fight only in the domino mask, no tangles and all that stuff-“

“You’re terrible!”

“Yeah, yeah I am, and what are you going to do about it baby?” he smirked and leaned forward, giving her a teasing look “you love me either way, we both know it.”

“Well maybe I should cut my hair too.” Her eyes glistened with mischief “you know- to match your new style.”

“What?” Jason turned a little pale. His princess was going to get rid of her perfect locks?! Over his dead body! (Even if that meant dying again.) “You are not!”

“Too bad for you I already made that decision. In fact I’m gonna go to the hairdresser first thing tomorrow—”

“I won’t let you out of here! You can’t just make such important decisions without talking to me first!”

“But I just told you.” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

“And the answer is no!”

“It was not a question.”

“You are not cutting your hair. It is not only yours! It’s mine too! We’re a couple, practically like one being!”

“Well maybe if we attach some of mine to your head we can both have what we want?”

“I got a better idea. I’ll keep you trapped here for as long as mine grow back, how about that?”

“And what shall we do for so many months Mr Todd?” she hummed with a glint in her eyes.”

“Duh! I’ll make sure to convince you that the length of my hair is not the one that should be of your concern, baby…” Jason smirked letting his hoarse tone reveal what was on his mind.

Was he acting like a hypocrite? Yes.

Did she care? No.

Cause one thing that was absolutely sure about Jason Todd that there was only one like him in the world. Capable of twisting the words in a way that always turned the situation a little less serious. And whatever hairstyle he was sporting, she was not going to change him for anyone else.

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

jorrāeliarzus (beloved) │ Chapter 5: Truth

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 (In Progress!)

Synopsis: Daemon guides you on a journey of healing and self-discovery as you learn to raise your children and build a family of your own. You labour.

Hello, all! I've had some deadlines at work delay this one, but we have A BAAAAABY so I hope this is worth it! We're progressing through the timeline now, and we're nearly half-way through the time gap between Episodes 7 and 8. From here, it's likely time will speed through a little more, though don't take my word for that. Some plottening stuff happens in here, too, though this is mostly off-screen. Lotta dialogue as well. The chap comes with its customary long word count (approx 7000 words), so settle in. Lemme know if you enjoy!

Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for betaing this chapter for me! Thank you to @emilykaldwen for giving me some valuable tips to tidy this thang up!

Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, implications of forced pregnancy/marital ab*se (not main pairing), semi-graphic childbirth.

You look up from the letter, your gut sinking at the revelation therein. From your position—propped up and thoroughly barricaded in by mountainous cushions—you watch your sister pace, her hands clenched before her so tightly that her skin is white as bone.

“We knew this was bound to happen,” Daemon says from his perch at the end of the bed, near enough that you can feel the warmth of him through the covers.

Bouncing Rhaenar atop his knee, your uncle’s free arm bears the weight of Aelys, who busies herself hanging off him and stamping her feet on the ground in a facsimile of walking. He ought to appear as a nursemaid, but he carries his undertaking well, a certain automaticity about him that grants him an air of nonchalance. Perhaps he had done the very same with you once, long ago.

With no small degree of condescension, he adds, “Was this not the purpose of Alicent’s little plot? A waste if the boy were not to seed her eventually.”

Not for any lack of trying.

Disdain pulses through you at the thought of your half-brother, at the thought of what you know he had done to Helaena to get his ilk on her, what he had been doing to her before she was ready and willing to abide it. This is not something you can tarry on for long without anger.

Your eyes rove over the words on the page, seeking within them some semblance of the girl you knew. She has not written this. She would not have said this. ‘Tis too grand, too devout. No—this is the work of her mother. Your lady stepmother has made a blatant show of her daughter’s children to bolster Aegon’s cause, and the notion makes you angry. There is indication here as to Helaena’s true feelings, as to how she might have come to discard her moon tea and let her womb bear fruit.

Why did she never mention it in any of her letters? you think hopelessly. How could she not tell me she was with child? Have we truly been driven so far apart now?

Worse than this, you wonder if she had been found out. If this odd reticence is a product of some sort of imprisonment, a consequence for betraying her duty. You wonder and you hope, fervently, that she has not been forced to birth her brother’s babes—by her mother, more like, as Aegon does not seem the sort to concern himself overmuch about such things—for her sake and for the innocent lives so newly brought into the world.

Rhaenyra scoffs, recapturing your attention. “Forgive me for assuming her barren. It has been near two years since they wed, and naught to show for it.”

“And now she’s borne twins of her own. A shame.” Daemon sniffs derisively. You cannot quite see his expression as he regards his boy and girl, but you imagine it is one of smug arrogance as always. “Perhaps the Realm would give a shit if hers had come before ours.”

“It is a matter of succession, not innovation! Your children”—she gestures irascibly to Rhaenar and Aelys, both as fascinated as the other by the sight of Rhaenar’s bared toes dangling from his papa’s lap and unconcerned by the rising volume of their aunt’s voice—“are not at risk, but mine are. This will give the Greens all the more reason to accept my half-brother as the rightful heir.”

She cuts herself off, taking several deep breaths to steady her temper.

 “He is already the firstborn son of the King,” she says, quieter, more measured. “And now, with a son to further his claim… what chance do I have?”

Your poor sister. She has been on edge since Laenor departed. This cannot have helped her state of mind any.

“First son, yes,” you tell her softly. “You are the firstborn. Father named you heir. He has never reneged on that, never named Aegon instead. Do not forget that.”

She sinks against the wall, anger gone as quickly as it had sparked to life. “What if he changes his mind? It would be easier. Rhaenys told me once… that men would sooner see the realm put to the torch than have a woman on the throne.”

“Why would he?” Daemon asks. “The boy is a man now, or near enough. He declared for you when you were much younger. If he were going to change his mind, he’d have done it already. And Rhaenys can be a sanctimonious cunt when she wants to be. Ignore her.”

Perhaps. But our cousin is right—for had she not been in the very same position near thirty years ago? She had the stronger claim, and yet was passed over for Father. The lords have long favoured manhood over seniority.

You keep these thoughts to yourself, though. No good can come from pointing out exactly why Rhaenyra has reason to worry.

“Hm.” She does not sound overly reassured by your husband’s words.

He continues, unconcerned. “This news is of little importance. Does the hare not multiply in abundance? Offspring it may have, but it doesn’t give them divine right any more than the same gives the Hightower spawn. Calm yourself.”

It is precisely the wrong thing to say. You stifle the urge to roll your eyes, steeling yourself for the inevitable backlash.

“Do not tell me to calm down, Daemon,” is her irritated response.

“Then do not storm in and disturb us so.”

“May I remind you that you reside here by my—”

“Perhaps you can postpone your quarrel to some other time?” you ask loudly, drowning out the end of whatever riposte Rhaenyra had concocted. “Preferably when I do not have to hear it?”

Your children turn, startled by your sudden interjection. It is as though they have just realised you are present. Rhaenar kicks his feet a little, gaze fixed on you. You can tell that he wants you, though he is far more patient than his sister. Aelys drops her hands from Daemon’s arms, using the bedframe to keep herself upright as she sidles closer to you, whining for “mama” with a steadily growing frown. You wish you could lean over and lift her, but the effort of doing so might well push this new babe clean from you.

Daemon carries on with his exchange, though his eyes do flicker to the girl watchfully. “Exactly,” he says to your sister. “Now fuck off.”

The day either of my children make use of such foul language, you decide, is the day their father will be sleeping on the floor.

Rhaenyra levels him with little more than a sardonic quirk of the brow, as though his conduct is but mildly irritating. “Give me a reason to exile you from this island, Uncle. Go on.”

It is a jest, clearly, one that tugs at the edge of your lips with the threat of amusement. Her nostrils flare with concealed victory at his dismissive grunt, the rigid lines of her figure easing into something approaching serene as she moves towards the side of the bed.

Though she readily hoists Aelys from the floor to kiss her downy-soft cheek, it is not what your daughter desires—she twists and reaches out for you, doing her best to squirm away. Daemon stands, free arm held out. Rhaenyra passes the infant to him, cooing when she inevitably begins to cry with the frustration of once again being denied her mother. While your husband murmurs platitudes to her, bouncing the twins in his hold lest the spell of despair pass from one to the other, your sister turns to you.

“Rest.” Leaning forward to press her lips to your crown, she smooths your hair back and takes the missive still clutched between your fingers into her grasp. She waves it about as she says, “I… I will send our congratulations to the capital.”

You nod. “Alright.”

Aelys is still fussing as Rhaenyra leaves, clinging to her papa’s neck and wailing directly into his ear. So illogical it is, to latch oneself onto the very person keeping them from their desire, but such is the nature of children, you have found. Rhaenar begins to bleat, stirred by his sister, and Daemon is succeeding little in quelling either protest. It is valiant of him to try and keep the twins away, beleaguered as you are by constant aches and soreness now—but the comfort they are after is not one he can provide.

You sigh, tugging the laces affixing the front panel of your shift to the sides. The fabric drops. “Give her to me.”

Obligingly, he places Aelys onto the mattress, chuckling as she inches forward, eager to get to you. You try not to wince as she elbows you in her scramble amongst the cushions to situate herself, head pillowed against the protuberance of your belly while her hands and mouth fasten to your breast.

She is old enough now that your milk is no longer strictly necessary for survival, but you cannot deny her the sweetness of nursing when it brings her such security. You hear her suckling, feel the flexing of her fists against your skin, the familiar tugging sensation as she pulls and swallows. It is more powerful than a calming tonic, a bolt of love in its rawest form spreading throughout your body.

The mattress dips beside you, and you can feel your son clambering over your legs, though your gaze upon your daughter does not break. Daemon’s calloused finger strokes along the meeting point of her lips to your nipple.

“She just about hangs off your teats, doesn’t she?” he asks, deep and warm.

You smile, running a soothing palm up and down her back. Her lids have begun to droop. “It is comforting, I think. There isn’t much there for her.”

With the new child set to arrive any day, you know you will begin to make that precious first milk for them soon, thin and yellow and essential for good health. Your twins may need to take sustenance from Freda only until your supply renews itself properly. It is worrying to think of, for you are certain neither will be very enthusiastic about the change in routine.

You let out a laugh as Rhaenar finally finds your other breast, mirroring his twin against your belly. The pressure is not quite comfortable, but it is manageable enough. Your boy is slower, gentler than Aelys, preferring to take his time feeding rather than guzzling it all down as quickly as he can. Your uncle’s hand enters your line of sight, ruffling the dusting of silver-white capping his son’s head.

“What do you think?” he asks finally, breaking the silence. The question has nothing to do with your present circumstances.

“I… I don’t know.”

You truly don’t. You do not know how to think, how to feel about little Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, or what it means that their mother had kept them concealed. You settle on the simplest conclusion you have come to thus far.

“Rhaenyra is right,” you say. “This complicates matters.”

It sounds weak even to you. Daemon pulls away, taking his warmth with him. He stares at some fixed point on the wall, the ridge of his brow casting a shadow of restrained ferocity over his face. His jaw is set. When he speaks next, it is colder than he has sounded in moons.

“Only to those who have no loyalty to the true heir. That bitch”—Alicent, your mind supplies unhelpfully, ‘that bitch’ being all he will deign to call her since he had learned of her schemes—“may have named her son for a king, but he will never be fit to sit the Iron Throne.”

“There are men aplenty named ‘king’ in past ages who have been ill-suited to it,” you remind him carefully. “It is not for love of Aegon that support is with him.”

He snorts, though there is little humour in it. “I would sooner set the Seven Kingdoms ablaze than bend the knee to the spawn of a Hightower.”

You believe him, and that may well be the worst part. Who could ever stand against the wrath of a dragon?

“Will it come to that?” you ask, clutching your babes to you. It is all you can do to prevent your voice from quivering. “Truly?”

“For the Realm’s sake, it had better not,” he says darkly.

True. It is not a future with a peaceful aftermath, that is certain. But the gleam in his eye tells you that, should such a day come, it is not only his enemies he would seek to punish, but the world itself. War calls to him as you have feared for so long, and you know not if he has the power to resist it.

The same thought plagues you again. Am I enough for him? Are we enough for him? You wonder if you will ever know the answer.

You recognise the pains for what they are this time. When you wake in the morning to a twinge at the base of your spine and radiating tightness throughout your lower body, it is as sure a sign as any that the babe intends to make their way from you in due course.

It is pointless to panic. These sensations had begun the eve before the twins’ birth, and so you know there may well be hours until anyone need be alerted. Still, it is unpleasant enough that you ask your ladies to prepare a bath, hoping that the warmth will dull the worst of it.

You find it helps. You feel less weighted down, and while the pain does not dissipate entirely, the water suspends you in a state of perpetual serenity. Periodically, the maids remove water and set it on the hearth to boil before slowly tipping it back in, allowing you to remain in your haven for as long as you wish. Steam rises in whorls, heating the chilled air and sticking to your skin.

“Princess?” Jeyne sounds anxious. You crack open your lids to find her peering at you, wide-eyed. “Should… should I fetch the healer?”

You hum through a more insistent spasm, focusing on keeping your breathing steady through it. It recedes, a wave retreating from shore but ever-present on the horizon. You know it will return, and soon.

“Mm. Yes,” you say, cupping your belly. It is almost buoyant in the water. You feel strangely calm. “This one will be born today.”

For all the flurry that quickly takes place, you find yourself unable to take much notice of it all. New voices float in and out of your periphery, rustlings and thuds and scrapes resounding as everyone else makes way for the child’s imminent arrival. You care for none of it, watching the constellation of colours across the insides of your eyelids as you breathe and breathe and breathe.

It is odd. You have spent moons worrying about this precise moment. Now that it is here, all you can think is that you have done it before, that you had had strength enough for twice the work and been given two babes for it, alive and kicking like goats. They had come easily enough—why not this one?

I am not my mother, you think. I am not Laena or Alyssa or Daella or Gael.

You vaguely register Ūlla snapping at her attendants from the other side of the room, your mouth curling up at the sound.

“Should we help her out, milady?” a midwife asks. “What if the bath is too hot?”

“She look too hot, girl? No. Leave her,” is the dismissive response. “She come out when ready.”

The well of fondness for your strange healer woman fills itself to the brim, fluttering in your heart as the babe twists about in your womb. ‘Tis unquestionable, her loyalty, her faith in you. Without saying it, she reminds you that you are the one in control here. It is your body, your babe, your battle.

You were a youth before, with the twins, unfamiliar with all that comes with childbed. Of course you had needed her hovering assistance, and of course the fact that you had needed to perform double the work necessitated so much fuss and fuddle. Now, though, it is far quieter. Fewer midwives, no maester, no fingers and instruments prodding about where they are unwanted. Just you, attuned to the rhythm within, counting the moments as they pass in irregular surges.

In. Out. In. Out. With each inhale and exhale, the pain grows and grows, unstoppable. Your insides knot together, tighter and tighter, each release feeling less and less like relief. The shakes set in, and nausea rises, though you cough up only bile over the side of the tub. You have not yet broken your fast, and you suspect you will take no food until these proceedings are at an end.

Inevitably, the tempest that is your uncle sweeps in, scattering the hush to pieces and banishing it hereforth.

“… have fucking sent for me earlier. Look at all this.” A clatter. Whether it be him discarding his blade or worse, kicking some sundry item in his foul mood, you know not. “Time to set up, but no time to fetch a page. Useless fucking—”

“Ñuhus jorrāeliarzus.” My love, you call him. It exerts you to push your voice so. With closed eyes and outstretched hand, you beckon him. “Māzīs.” Come.

He is no hound, but still, he obeys. You hear his heavy footsteps, and quick enough, your fingers are enveloped in his, the side of your head bearing the pressure of his as he crowds over you.

“Aōma iksan,” he murmurs, buzzing through your bones. I am with you.

“Rhaenar? Aelys?” You try not to whimper, but it is all you can do not to cry as it is. Even though the sight of you would surely set their tears aflow, you want them, an impulse that compels you to shore up your domain in times of vulnerability and stress. But more than this, you want them safe.

“Rhaenyra has them,” Daemon says, clothed arm disappearing below the water’s surface to cup the fullness of your belly, testing the give of it. He does not seem surprised by his findings, though his palm remains firm to your skin. His expression is neutral, if forced, belied by the stiff set of his shoulders and the thin line of his mouth. “They’re fine.”

The whisper of worry flitting in the very back of your mind dissipates like smoke, a lingering doubt you had not known existed until its disappearance. It allows you to fully descend into your labours, to block out the world around you as age-old instinct takes over.

Your awareness ebbs and flows with the spasms of your belly, just barely cognisant of the ever-enduring heat of the water surrounding you—Daemon’s work, you think, for his voice rumbles harshly even if you pay little attention to the precise sounds he forms—and the unrelenting throb of your lower body, cramping and seizing and working its way to a grand finish. The draughts of tea fed to you by Ūlla do little but blunt the edge of pain, transforming sharpness to a bottomless, muscular ache, so intense that your mind cannot pinpoint the source of it even if you logically know the way of things. The babe moves impatiently within you, reminding you that there is a prize to be won for your great suffering.

They are eager to depart the prison of your body. You are eager to let them.

Soon, the pain grows too great to abide. Your heavy breaths turn ragged, then to moans, giving the hurt a sound with which to herald it. Your belly drops low, almost between your legs, so tight and hard to the touch that you can trace the outline of the child’s rump through paper-thin flesh.

“I want to get out,” you gasp, startling all who surround you. It does not seem so sudden to you, though you suppose so long without action had lulled the others into complacency. “I want to get out.”

You flail for a moment, entirely incapable of bearing yourself up, but your uncle’s sure and steady frame holds firm as he guides you to standing, supporting you as you step out on each wobbly, unsure leg.

“Careful, my girl,” he says, or perhaps he only mouths it to you, presses his fear and his love from his lips to your ears. “That’s it…”

The water you leave behind is cooler than the air that clings to your slick frame. After the attendants cursorily dry you off, you lean into Daemon, fighting the natural urge to sink with the heft of your womb, to meet the cool ground below with the rippling solidity of skin that feels ready to burst. Naked as the day you were born, you move forward and forward and forward, grunting with the strain of it, for it hurts now to even walk, to do so simple a feat, your thighs unable to come together from the protruding spread of your middle and the deep threatening sting of your stretching inner mouth, an immense force just waiting to cleave it open from inside.

Your pulse pounds away behind your eyes as you reach the birthing stool, finally giving in to that all-encompassing desire to lower yourself, not to the seat, no, but to your knees before the chair, fists curled around the snarled wood of its frame and nails digging into the surface.

“You should sit on stool, Princess,” Ūlla says behind you, or mayhaps before you. It is so, so hard to tell. “I can help—”

“No.” Daemon responds for you, on his knees by your side. His voice is firm, unyielding. “This is where she wants to be.”

Speech is beyond you now, but your hand jerks from its iron grip to swing outward, seeking him. He takes hold, fingers wrapping around yours. You squeeze tight as the pressure mounts.

“You know me,” you wish you could tell him. “You know me to my soul.”

“I’m here,” he murmurs aloud, other palm flat to your back, pushing down against your lower spine. It brings a strange relief, though it does not ease what you feel. “I’m here, sweetling.”

The babe bears down, and so do you, imagining it in your mind’s eye as you strain. You feel lightheaded, unable to breathe, and you think you might be making some horrible noise that emanates from your gut with the force of your muscles contracting. Your legs tingle, your arms shake, your entire frame overcome and overtaken by the focal point between your legs.

“Good girl, Princess!”

A damp, warm towel presses against your opening, and then heat bursts inside, no, not heat, fire, stinging and blazing, and you wonder if you really have caught alight inside, burning from the inside out, for nothing could be more painful than this slow and excruciating torment. You feel like a wounded animal, snarling and cringing away from itself, unable to escape as each swell comes faster and faster, blurring and rolling into one single, irrevocable chasm.

Oh, how it hurts—

You must age ten summers by the time it all reaches its very worst, most searing agony. You rip apart, it is the only way you can describe it, and you do not even know if you are right and you have split open from navel to back, a great mass making itself known right at the precipice between you and the open air. A shriek rattles around the room.

“Feel that, boy—the head—”

“I can feel it—”

Daemon laughs once, quick, exhilarated, forehead collapsing atop the base of your skull as rough digits feel along the stretched seam of your entry, mapping the circumference of this new babe.

“A big one, is it not?” he asks, terrified and overwhelmed and overjoyed all wrapped into one.

“Very big. Push hard, Princess, very hard—”

And it is very hard, so very hard, but you are not alone. Daemon is here. He is not just lounging about and indulging in ale and raillery with his comrades like any lord would. He is here with you as you bring this child into the world, feeling what you feel, holding fast rather than backing away. The very essence of him melds with yours, and you picture yourself grasping onto it tightly, no longer afraid. Whatever happens now, he is here.

If you live, it is here with him. If you die, it is here with him. The pain will fade, but the joy? Oh, it will bloom, sure as the sun rises each morn.

You feel your belly constrict and you bear down, panting shallowly, ending in one long, shuddering scream and a gush of fluid.

A beat, and then a cry.

You wilt in relief, sobbing openly as the babe lets themselves be known, their angered protestations drowning out any praise or felicitations. It is done. It is done. You made it through, and you knew you would, but still, it is glorious relief that fills you. It burns to fall back on your haunches, right in the mess of liquid on the bedding sprawled between your legs, but you make yourself sit upright in time for Ūlla to pass you the babe, squirming and squalling and covered in blood and muck.

Daemon’s lips press firm against your temple as you take your son into your embrace. “Thank you,” he whispers, but you scarcely notice.

“Look at him,” you say, staring down in shock, surprise, wonder. “He’s here.”

You did not know if you would see him and feel love when the time came. Now it is over, and you cannot imagine why you had ever thought you would not. He is large, much more so than Rhaenar or Aelys were, both in size and plumpness. Your arms are still shaking, held up with Daemon’s assistance, but even so, you can feel how heavy he is, how substantive. His skin is purpled, but that is fading, flushing from the force of his wailing. Tiny fingers, tiny toes, tiny cock—“that’ll grow, I hope,” Daemon says—and, rather oddly, a matted thicket of blonde locks, dark, not silver like his siblings, like his papa, like you.

“My mother’s hair.” Your uncle’s fingers tremble as they stroke across the top of his new child’s head, as if touching a memory brought back to the mortal plane. When he speaks next, it is a choked sound, wrenched from his gut. “He is beautiful.”

The babe’s cries slow to snuffles, nosing along your breast as he starts to root, and you help him shift to latch on. It is familiar enough now that the sensation does not surprise you, so you pay it no mind as you continue admiring your son.

The world turns quiet and small. The people around you speak, move about, but you hardly hear them through the fog that settles over you. Laying your head against Daemon’s shoulder, you sag into him, exhausted. Your womb continues to squeeze upon itself, though it is milder now, or perhaps you simply cannot care to focus on it anymore. Your body works to expel the afterbirth, and it soon enough exits onto the towels and cloths you sit upon, followed by a rush of warmth.

You feel Daemon tense. Your heart beats rapidly, in a peculiar rhythm.

“Give him to me,” Ūlla says, pulling the child from your breast.

He was not finished—he fusses, legs kicking, and you try to take him back, but you are too weak from your labours. You barely have the energy to protest. She passes him to a midwife, and he is carried away, still whining.

“What’s happening?” Daemon barks. She ignores him.

“Time to get up,” she tells you. Though her voice is calm, you sense her urgency. “Bleeding, more than I like. You are okay, Princess.”

You try to stand, but your legs are limp under you, wobblier than a foal’s. Your vision spots black, sickness rising up your throat, and you shake your head. I cannot. I cannot. The words will not come.

Daemon lifts you from the ground himself, forcing you to shut your eyes lest the sudden movement sends any remaining contents in your stomach spewing from your mouth. You catch a glimpse before you do—of sheets and towels soaked in wine-dark, marring the white of them irreversibly.

One moment you are in the air. The next, you are laid out on the bed, atop a lumpy woollen covering that is most decidedly not your mattress. Attendants rush around you, wiping your skin with rags doused in warm perfumed water, and lavender wafts through the air, tickling your nose. Your legs are parted for the healer to check over you.

“Mm. Tear. Small. But womb bleeding, too,” she mutters, packing cloth between your legs. The pressure is gentle. “Not good.”

“You will fix it.” It ought to be a question, but Daemon’s tone is not at all querying. It is a demand, or mayhaps a rare avowal of confidence.

“We see.”

You care not to ask what is in the tincture she pours into your mouth, earthy and bitter and foul, coating your tongue and sliding unpleasantly down your gullet. With eyes remaining shut, you let yourself focus only on the orders Ūlla gives you: when to hold the tincture she keeps feeding you inside your mouth, when to swallow in small increments, when to wash it down with wine watered down with milk. Your fatigue is too great for fear. If you were more alert, perhaps you would be thinking again of Laena, whose bed of blood was the prelude to her inevitable passing only days later. Or maybe of your mother, your grandmother, your great-aunt, or any of the other women of your family who had faced these same circumstances and lost their lives. But you cannot. It is too taxing.

At some point, a thin blanket is tucked carefully over your naked form. You had not realised you were cold until your skin is shielded from the room. Floating in twilight—eerie in how it detaches you from your surroundings—you continue to take in the healer’s medicines every few minutes, your mind fixed on your children.

You want your babe with you. You want Rhaenar and Aelys. It feels wrong now to be empty, to not feel the weight of a child kicking in your belly. It frightens you.

“I want my son,” you say. It hurts to talk. “My son…”

“Soon, my girl,” Daemon tells you tenderly, palm to your cheek. Through slitted eyes, you see his sleeve covered in blood. Your blood. “Sh.”

“Sit up now, Princess,” Ūlla says, bustling around the bed to help shift you up and lean back against the pillows.

For an instant, you are afraid the movement will renew the pulsing wet below, but you try anyway. You do not feel so dizzy as you blink, taking it all in after so long in self-imposed dark. Everything appears kaleidoscopic, an edge of unreality to the mundane objects and clutter that fill your bedchambers. The healer sits beside you, staring straight into your eyes with fingers pressed to the inside of your wrist.

“Well? Is she alright?” In your periphery, your uncle is pale, the weathered lines on his face pronounced with how tense his every muscle is. He stares down the healer with so much intent that it would make a lesser man wish to jump out of his own flesh.

It is silent—then, she relaxes, turning to regard him. “Yes. Heart is calming. Bleeding slower. Sleep, and eat, and then rest will take care of her best now.” To you, she asks, “How you feel, Princess?”

“A bit dizzy,” you say. “Tired.”

“Yes, yes.” She chuckles, passing you yet another dose of milk and wine. You do not like the taste in combination, but it settles in your stomach and warms you well enough, satisfies the hunger that is beginning to rear its head. “After that big boy? You earn it!”

“Where is he? I want him.”

Obligingly, she nods and moves away. One of the midwives—Lina, you think—brings a wrapped bundle forth, though your view is momentarily shrouded by the shift that is tugged over your head. You accept the attendant’s help in dressing, pulling the fabric down to your waist. A thick coverlet is draped across your lower half.

“We give you more tonic, make sure bleeding is done. And I will stay a while and watch,” Ūlla is saying. You are only vaguely aware of her, far too absorbed by the heft of your child delivered into your waiting arms.

Finally, finally, you are at ease. The babe is clean and dry, drowsing after being swathed in blankets, though you loosen them to examine him fully. The cord at his belly has been cut and tied off with string, the stump of it as odd to see as it had been on your twins. You can see him clearer now. He is all Daemon, from the shape and set of his eyes to the slope of his nose, capped off with tresses that mimic the shade of his papa’s mother.

You glance at your husband. He has had the wherewithal to change his shirt, and while he now appears unmarred, his expression is haunted. You are not worried as he must be, though. If you were going to die, then surely you would feel fainter and the cover below you would be soaked with gore. Instead, you feel clearer, restored if not fully hale and hearty, even if the ache of so much exertion is beginning to throb between your legs.

You reach out to him. He returns to you, shuffling in until he is by your side, pulling you into the crook of his arm. His hold is tighter than necessary, almost uncomfortable, but you do not mind. If it is what he needs to reassure himself that you are safe and well and here, then you will accept it gladly. You lay your cheek against his chest, the both of you watching your newest son.

The babe is so different from his older brother and sister. And yet, you feel as though you have known him all your life.

“What should we call him, then?” Daemon’s voice is hushed. Again, his palm caresses along the boy’s hair. It seems it is something he is most fascinated by, and you cannot blame him. A long time has passed since he had received such a reminder of one he loved so dearly. “Shall it be Rhaegar, or Daeryx?”

This is how you named the twins: he had come to you with two names he liked best for each and put it to you to make the final choice. Aelyx or Rhaenar. Valaena or Aelys. Your only true condition had been that they would be names no other Targaryen in recent history had been given. It is difficult enough to carry the visage of a ghost—worse still, you imagine, to bear their epithet and know that you would forevermore be compared to some hero of an age past, always falling short. Even so, you know Daemon has a particular partiality to Visenya and Baelon. Perhaps you will eventually grant him these, one day. You have many years of fertility left.

“Hm.” You study your son. All you can see in him is your uncle, and oh, how it wrenches you to your bones and sweetens the very air you breathe. Your heart decides before you are truly conscious of it. “I think… Daeryx.”

Daeryx, Daemon. Daeryx, Daemon. It is a perfect homage.

“Rhaenar, Aelys and Daeryx. They fit well.”

They do. You are tempted to ask that the twins be brought to you, to have your whole little family together, but you know that you are too drained to entertain excitable infants at present. It can wait. You have all the time in the world.

For a long while, you sit together in silence, just staring at Daeryx. You stroke his tiny knuckles, the arch of his feet. You trace the line of his mouth, the curve of his ears. You lean down to take in his sweet, perfect scent, of milk and skin and love love love.

You and Daemon do not need to speak, not truly. But when he opens his mouth, you already know what he will say, and you hoard his words greedily, storing them in the place in your mind where all your most precious memories reside.

“I have waited all my life for this,” he confesses, low and raw and real, never once looking away from your son.

He does not just mean Daeryx, this you know. This is a child of his own, three now where he had barely been allowed to hope for one. This is a family he could feel respected by, trusted, like he belonged. This is a home, full of light and love, something that had for so long been out of reach. And not just for him.

“So have I,” you whisper back, kissing his collarbone. “So have I.”

“Ah. Gentle, please.”

Your lips quirk fondly as your little brother coaches Aelys, grasping firm to her elbow to guide her hand slowly. Aelys makes a funny aaah sound as her palm settles on Daeryx’s head, her fingers clumsily petting through his hair.

“Isn’t he nice?” Daeron asks, careful to make his voice soft. “Daeryx. Can you say it? Dair-icks.”

Aelys beams gummily, wiggling on her bottom. “Dair.”

He shrugs. “Close enough.”

“Pa,” Rhaenar adds to the conversation, clapping excitedly. He has been squirming ever since Daemon lifted him onto his lap. “Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa.”

“Yes, darling?” Daemon asks indulgently, bouncing his knee only once.

Your eldest smacks his father’s knee, then points at the sleeping newborn nestled next to him. “Ba.”

“That’s right. Baby. This”—he lifts his arm, bringing Daeryx closer—“is your brother. He is small, so be careful.”

Your uncle could not look prouder if he tried. Holding both his sons, his daughter right beside him, he is the very image of a devoted papa, his exuberance bursting out despite his paltry attempts to school his expression. He almost seems overwhelmed by it. With three of them now, you cannot blame him. Even you find yourself disoriented by the fact that you are outnumbered by these strange little creatures straight from your body.

These next days, weeks, moons will be hard. From what little you know, little you have witnessed from the sidelines when watching your elder sister bear one then two then three boys, ensuring each child feels equally seen and loved by you shall be the most important task. You suppose you know what not to do, though—had your father not devoted all his care to a single child, neglecting the other and outright ignoring the ones to come?

That will not be me, you vow.

Even now, when they are young and have yet to become their true selves, you cannot fathom allowing any of them to think they are not just as valued as their siblings. It makes you wonder what your father has been thinking all these years. It makes you question whether or not you can really blame your younger brothers for any deficit they possess. If you had been the boy Father craved, the one he all but murdered your mother in pursuit of, and you had known that not even possessing a prized cock between your legs was enough to warrant any moue of notice or care, what would you do? To what would you turn—and to whom?

“You are all so far away,” you say. Trapped under the covers as you are, you pat the space beside you. There is plenty of room for them all. “Come sit with me.”

Daeron readily takes hold of his niece, and she cleaves to him with the easy grip of someone who knows full well that they are surrounded by love. He brings her to you, lazing about on the edge with a careless affect and easy grin. You kiss your daughter’s face and scent her sweet-smelling hair once she has crawled to you, tucking her into your side as Daemon rounds the other side of the bed. He sets Daeryx on your lap, dropping Rhaenar at your feet. The boy cackles as his papa descends to tickle his belly, wriggling across the mattress toward your brother.

“Get back here,” Daemon growls playfully, grabbing his ankle and dragging him backward.

Rhaenar squeals as he is beset once more, the flurry and chaos inevitably drawing Aelys into the fray. She inserts herself as she so typically does, demanding attention that is readily granted. Quickly enough, both are shrieking with delight as Daemon launches his attack, the sight enough to make the normally reticent Daeron belly laugh. The commotion does not seem to concern Daeryx overmuch—he blinks up at you, stirred by the noise but disinterested in determining the cause. All he seems absorbed by is his mama.

It is such magnificent anarchy, here in your apartments. Your head begins to throb from the pitch of your twins’ joy, matched by the ache that spans your entire body. None of that matters. It all pales in comparison.

Once, you had worried about how you might manage sharing your love with a new child. You worried it would mean less for Rhaenar and Aelys, or that you would not have anything left to give Daeryx. That love is finite, fixed, and that you must carve it up as best you can. But it is nothing like that at all. Love, you now know, does not falter. It doubles, triples, multiplies upon itself with each person to whom you give it. The wellspring never runs dry.

I cannot love them any more than I do right now, you think as you look upon the scene before you, listing them out in your mind as if carving their memory into stone. 

Daeron. Daemon. Rhaenar, Aelys, Daeryx. Rhaenyra, too, and Jace, Luke, Joff, Laenor, Baela, Rhaena, Corwyn. Helaena, and Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, whom you know not if you will ever meet but you will cherish all the same. There are more people now than fingers upon which to count them. 

This is the most I will ever feel such love in my life.

You are wrong. You know you are. Love grows and grows and grows. And that is the greatest truth of all.

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[whateveriwant]

I know it's a little late but this Father's Day, I'm thinking about childhood best friend Simon who's secretly in love with you.

You've known Simon since forever – long before the emergence of “Ghost”, his enlistment in the military, or, hell, even before his voice dropped three octaves. To you, Simon Riley was your best friend, the one person in life you could always count on to be there for you. And to Simon, the feeling was mutual, but his feelings towards you also extended well beyond that sentiment, far surpassing what you ever realized.

From an early age, Simon knew you were the love of his life, but he could never bring himself to admit that to you. He was always too shy, too self-conscious, too scared to fuck up everything you two had if he told you the truth. So instead, he kept his love for you a secret, and just focused on being the best friend any girl could ask for.

For a while, it was nice simply being your friend, and Simon played the part with ease. But once you entered the dating scene, everything seemed to change. Now, not only did Simon have to hide his feelings for you, he was forced to sit back and watch as you gave your love to another. Though it tore him up inside to witness, Simon still chose to stick by you anyway. He was your friend first and foremost, and so your friend he'd continue to be.

Through every new relationship, every whirlwind romance, and every eventual heartbreak you endured, Simon was always right there beside you, lending himself over in whatever manner you needed. Even as one came along that you swore was different from the others, Simon was skeptical, but he supported you regardless. And now, nearly five years into your marriage, he supposes you were right after all.

So color Simon surprised when you wind up beside him on his couch one night, crying your eyes out, trying to drown your sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. You explain how, for almost a year, you and your husband have been trying for a baby, to no success. You've done everything; ovulation tracking, fertility tests, a revolving door of doctors to try finding out what the issue is. By all accounts, there doesn't appear to be any physical concerns preventing you from conceiving. As for your husband, well, he hasn't been as diligent in determining his role in this.

You're now at a point in your life where you feel like time is working against you. You want nothing more than to have a baby of your own, and if you and your husband aren't capable of doing that, you're not sure what there is that's left for you.

As you sob into the crook of Simon's neck, he finds his neurons begin firing at an alarming rate. Quicker than he'd like, an idea takes root in his mind, and though it's bad – fucking heinous is what it is – it burrows itself into his grey matter until it's all he can focus on. While he hates himself for thinking of it (hates himself more for the way his stomach flips at the thought), there's nothing that hurts him more right now than having you in his arms so utterly distraught.

So before he can convince himself of another idea, Simon raises your head from his shoulder and tenderly cups your face between his palms. When he leans in to kiss you, a moment he's dreamed about for years, he's not surprised as you startle against him. But he holds steady, melding his lips to yours, until he feels you gradually melt into it. As he hushes the voices in his head, he plucks up his last bit of courage, and finds no resistance as he slowly guides you onto your back.

It's alright, sweetheart. He's here for you. He's going to help you out.

He'll give you the baby you so desperately desire, because that's what best friends are for, right?

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Just know you're stronger than you think

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, J - Just know you're stronger than you think

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader

There's a been a lot of tears writing this one, but it comes from the heart.

Shoutout to @alotofpockets for being one my biggest supports when writing and dealing with my rants and emotions, massively appreciate the virtual shoulder to lean on! 💗

"Why is it that the people we care about so much are also the ones' that hurt us the most?"

That particular question has been on your mind ever since it happened, two whole days ago.

"Did something happen?" The therapist, sitting opposite you questions, her voice full of concern.

Fumbling with the strings of your Leahs' hoodie that you are wearing, you slowly nod and look at the older woman, "My mum showed up, completely unannounced."

The memories of the past few days begin to replay in your head as you remember the conversation very clearly.

"Hi sweetheart," You're shocked to open the front door and come face to face with your mother, who you haven't even heard of in a few months, following the last conversation that you had with her.

Yet here she stood, smiling like there was nothing the matter. Had she forgotten what happened?

"Mom? Wha... What are you doing here?" You're confused to say the least and you couldn't understand why she was here, at your front door, after all of this time.

"I wanted to come and see you," The woman replied, still continuing to smile condescendingly at you.

Your eyes furrowed in confusion, "And you didn't think to let me know first?" You questioned her.

"I didn't think I would need to," Your mother was quick to respond, "And besides, I tried to call, but you've been avoiding me, haven't you?" She asked, knowingly.

"I've had stuff going on," You admitted to her quietly, shrugging your shoulders.

The older woman hummed in response, "I know, you were in the hospital, and guess where I had to find that out? The news, social media-- You didn't think to call your own mother?!" She barked at you, like it was her right to know about what's been going in your life.

She didn't deserve that right, not when shes' not bothered with you for as long as you can remember.

"I guess... I guess I forgot," You mumbled, feeling ten times smaller like your mother always has a way of making you feel like that.

It  was like a flip switched right there and then, your mother's smile changed to a scowl right in front of you.

"After everything I have done for you, and you just throw it back in my face, Y/N!" The women shouted angrily, her emotions completely changing in a blink.

The therapist sat opposite you, listening to you completely as you tell her about the conversation and relayed it back to her, "Okay, and how did that make you feel? How did you handle it?" She asks.

"The same way that I always did," You murmur, still fumbling with the hoodie strings, "I blew up."

"Mum, I haven't been well-- I tried to kill myself. I wanted to die, I... I tried to end my life because I didn't want to be here anymore!" You completely poured your emotional vulnerability out to the woman, hoping that she'd comfort you, something in which you deeply craved.

The woman literally scoffed and shook her head, "And you don't think that's incredibly selfish to do? What about me-- Wha... You can't leave me, Y/N!" She exclaimed in disbelief.

Your initial confusion turned to anger very quickly, how could she make it all about herself, even now?

"Mum, I'm the one that's been suffering and in pain, this whole damn time!" You didn't mean to yell at her, but something inside you snapped.

"You don't think I have? Y/N, I've been in pain for a lot longer than you have-- You don't know the half of it!" Your mother shouted right back at you, completely forgetting the fact you were both outside in broad daylight where anyone could hear the shouting back and forth.

The very sentence made you realise how inconsiderably selfish she has always been, and she will still continue to be.

"Why has it always got to be about you? I can't even talk to you because you're so wrapped up in yourself-- See this, this is the reason I didn't tell you because yet again, you just once again go and make it about yourself!" You were seething with anger, you didn't care at this point which neighbour did hear you, "I needed you, mum, I really... I really needed you and you weren't there." Your voice was vulnerable and raw, showing the true hurt you felt right there.

"Because you didn't tell me that you needed me, Y/N," Your mother threw it back in your face, having the audacity to even tut at you, "How could I when you don't keep in touch anymore?" She asked.

You really did need your mum, but once again, she was nowhere to be seen when you did.

"She doesn't get it, she never has. Shes' always been this selfish and I've never realised..." You speak directly to your therapist, once again showing your vulnerability as the tears continue to spill down your cheeks.

Your therapist nods and continues to listen, shifting the paper in her hands completely aside, "Did you tell her how you felt?" She wonders.

"I did," You nod in response, "It was hard, but... I did it."

"I deserve to know if theres' something wrong with you, Y/N,'' Your mother stated, like it was her god-given right to know.

Was it really?

"I'm telling you now, aren't I, mum?" You responded, quietly.

Your mother exhaled a sigh and shook her head, "Were you alone in the hospital?" She questioned.

"No, I had Leah--" You were cut off before you could finish that sentence.

Your mother had the audacity to scoff, "Leah is not your mother, Y/N. I am!" She stated, firmly.

"Yeah, well shes' been there a lot more than you have in the last few years!" You confessed your inner thoughts, you were damn right about that statement.

Leahs' been there a lot more than your mum ever has been.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Your mother questioned in disbelief.

"It means... It means I'm done, mum. I'm done with always having to be second best-- I'm done with you and your selfishness! I'm just... I'm done now!" You told her, not having the energy to keep up this argument with her as you deflated your shoulders.

Your mother had the nerve to look at you hurt and it made you feel instant guilt about what you said, "All that I have done for you, and this is how I am treated? By my own daughter!" She said quietly, barely louder than a whisper.

"Mum, I'm sorry... But I can't, I can't do this anymore," Your telling her nothing but the truth, your tired of the bickering, your so tired of it and its' draining you both mentally and physically, "I love you because your my mum, but I'm done, I can't... I think its' best that you go."

"I'm the one whos' always been there, Y/N. I am the one... I am the one whos' been there when that deadbeat of a father walked out on us. He walked and I stayed, I didn't have too. I could have given you up but I stayed and this is what I get?" Your mothers' words hurt, they're gaslighting and manipulative, but you know this is exactly what she is like.

You have to try and remain strong in this decision.

"I think you should go now, mum. I... I don't want you here anymore," You told her, quietly as you avoided looking at her, "Please, just go."

"Y/N, you can't just push me away. I don't deserve to be treated like this," The women continued to gaslight you, showing the toxic traits of her personality.

Shaking your head, you remained firm on your decision, "It's always the same thing with you, mum. Just... Just fuckin' go!" You exclaimed, trying to keep your tears at bay until she left.

You watched as your mothers' face turned to look like complete thunder, "Don't you swear  at me, young lady!" She shouted, enraged.

This time, you couldn't help but scoff, "Please, you can't tell me what to do. Just leave and never come back!" You demanded.

"Y/N," Your mother pleaded, but you didn't want to hear it.

Your therapist leant forward to pass you the box of tissues and looked at you in great sympathy, "And then what happened?" She asks.

"Leah showed up," You tell her, giving her a brief smile while trying to harshly wipe the tears away.

"I think you should do what she says. She's asked you to leave and you're not welcome here," Leah appeared behind your mother, coming back from a quick trip to the shops to pick up some much needed essentials and was shocked to see the women on her doorstep after all this time.

"You!" Your Mother turned round to see the voice behind her as she glared, "You've poisined my own daughter against me!"

"Me?" Leah scoffed in response before she shook her head, "That wasn't me, I think you'll find that was all done by you. So you can see Y/N is upset, so please Y/M/N, just go because like I said before, you're not welcome here." Her words were firm and it made you smile slightly with the way that the blonde fought in your corner.

"So, she left?" Your therapist questions, curiously.

You nod in agreement and use your sleeves to wipe your face, "She left, I felt... I guess I felt relieved, free almost? I... I just wish that things could be different, you know?" You tell her, confused about the feelings you have.

Your therapist smiled at you sympathetically, "You don't deserve to be treated like this, Y/N. Even if its' your own mother and you did the right thing here-- Remember we talked about healthy boundaries? Those apply to family members as well." She tells you.

"I know, it just hurts," You murmur, feeling complete exhaustion after spilling everything out in the open.

"It will for a bit, but then it'll heal. This is about you, Y/N," Your therapist continues to speak open and honestly to you, "It will take time to heal, but you're strong enough to do it, and you're not alone either." She states, kindly.

"Rough session?" Leah questions in concern as she glances at you beside where she sits in the driver's seat.

You must be somewhat predictable, or she can tell from the red puffy eyes and tear stain cheeks.

It may just be the latter one.

"Yeah," You murmur in response, you barely have the effort to even want to vocually communicate right now.

Leah continues to look at you in further concern, "Do you want to talk about it?" She offers.

"No, I don't... I don't want to talk about it," Your quick enough to disagree with that.

That was a complete lie, you did want to talk about it. Even if you won't admit it though.

"Okay, that's fine. You know where I am though if you need me, bubs." Leah sends you a gentle smile and squeezes your knee to let you know she's here for you.

"Thanks," You lean your head on the window, watching the passing traffic as you head back home to the flat you shared with the blonde.

The rest of the ride home was quiet, you felt so in your head right now.

Therapy was meant to help, right? Why did it feel like the complete opposite, right now.

"I'm gonna make tea, what do you--" Leahs' words are cut short with the sound of your bedroom door slamming shut behind you, "I'll be out here if you need me at all." She calls out, hoping that you can hear her.

You do hear her, but you just don't have the energy to verbally respond right now.

You used it all in therapy, pouring your emotions out and showing your vulnerability, and that's something which rarely ever happens.

You keep yourself shut away in your bedroom for the rest of the day.

Leah of course has tried to prise you out of your room, but you are very much reluctant to leave your confined space.

You don't want to talk anymore today, you'd already done enough of that with the therapist.

So instead you bury yourself in a blanket, shamelessly clutching hold of the little stuffed green dinosaur that you won at a fair when you were eight, while you just sob endlessly into your pillow.

"Why is it that the people we care about so much are also the ones' that hurt us the most?" The question still plays on your head in a loop, because even now, you still don't understand the answer to it.

What shocks you the most is the fact that your mum hasn't bothered even once to contact you.

That shit hurts, to realise that shes' not bothered about any of it.

Not a single thing.

Somehow during the time you've spent in your room, you end up crying most of the time. Unfortunately, the habits' become more familiar over the last few months than you realise, all because of that woman.

There's a knock at your door, followed by the blondes' voice, "Bubs?"

"G' way," You mumble from underneath the covers, trying to block out the rest of the world.

Hearing the door creep open, you know that Leah isn't going to do that, "I heard you crying. I'm not going to leave you when you're this upset." She states, firmly.

"I don't want... I don't want to talk," You stutter your words, trying to control your sobs no matter how difficult that is.

"That's okay, we don't have to talk about things," Leah moves further into the room as her heart breaks at the sight of you curled up into a ball in the middle of your bed, clutching a hold of the pillow with tear stained cheeks, "Oh, bubs. C'mere, my girl."

That sight was enough for Leah to swiftly move to lie behind you in your bed, gently scoop you up and pull you closer to her, to be able to allow you the comfort even if you didn't want it.

The blonde knew different, she knew not to believe you when you said you didn't want to talk, she allows you the space but shes' not going to allow you to be completely torn up about this.

"Le," Your voice trembles, you don't have the words to say right now, but your grateful for the blonde being there.

Leah quietly shushes you and wraps her free arm around you, "I know, I know it hurts. You don't have to say anything, but know I'm here for you, regardless."

"Why... I don't get why, why does it hurt this much?" You're completely heartbroken, you thought pushing your mother away would help with things, but it makes it all that worse.

"I wish I could tell you the answer there, bubs," Leah murmurs and rocks you back and forth slightly in her arms, "Sometimes' it hurts to do it, but it's' for the best, you know?"

"S... She hasn't even phoned me. She doesn't care about me," You cry openly, showing the raw vulnerability you felt about this situation.

You feel like you've been abandoned, somewhat.

Parents aren't meant to do that, but yet its' easy for enough for it to happen.

And now you're the one in the wrong? It doesn't make sense.

"It hurts now, but things will get better," Leah tells you honestly, running her slender fingers through the strands of your own hair, "And I promise to never leave you alone, ever, okay? You've always got me!" She promises.

"You... You've always been more like a mum to me, more than my mother ever has," You admit to her through small sobs, shuffling around to be face to face with her as you move to rest your head on her chest, "Thank you for never giving up on me or leaving."

Leahs' heart cracks just that little bit more as she smiles sympathetically, "Your my kid, regardless of blood or not, and I love you so so much," She speaks from the heart, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, "The day I met you, it felt like one of the best days of my life and I feel so grateful to be a part of your life, kid."

"I'm grateful you're a part of my life too, Le," You murmur quietly, your voice is hoarse from how much you've been crying but you really do mean what you say, "I wish you were my mum instead, you wouldn't abandon me like she did." You admit, your voice is still no louder than a whisper so you're not sure if shes' even heard it.

"I'd love to be your mum as well bubs, you deserve so much better," Leahs' response is nothing but the honest truth.

Your eyes start to flutter shut, "I really wish it could happen." 

Somehow you feel closer to falling asleep, you don't know what it is but you feel that with the presence of Leah there with you, it's a lot easier to fall asleep.

"I'll make it happen," Leah whispers, still running her slender fingers through your hair gently, "Get some sleep, yeah? It's been a long day."

There wasn't any response from you as you'd somehow managed to fall asleep in that short space of time.

"Bubs," Leah peers her head over slightly to see you fast asleep and she can't help but chuckle fondly, "I mean it when I say it and I'll keep that promise, kid. You're never going to be alone again." She states, firmly.

The blondes' heart aches so much for all the crap that you have had to put up with through the years and now she'll do anything to make it better.

"Sleep well, bubs. I love you," Leah whispers, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your forehead as she pulls you closer towards her, allowing you to sleep practically on top of her, allowing her to lie there and think through things with the determination of a way for you to finally be happy.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[signanothername]

Why do you like Killer?

*Cracks knuckles* get ready

I don’t like Killer, I fucking LOVE HIM

He’s my number 1 fave au sans and has been for a very long time

Now to be clear, I’m talking about canon Killer here, i have mixed feelings about some fanon interpretations, some are good and i genuinely love them, others not so much

That being said, let’s actually talk about why i love my beautiful amazing wonderful son <3333

(All art used in this post is by Killer’s creator: Rahafwabas)

The very first hook for me is his very concept, the mere idea of a sans basically agreeing to go on a killing spree after so many genocide runs is just *chef’s kiss*

Killer knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he did

Killer doomed himself by his choice, he could’ve stayed as “sans” but he chose to accept Chara’s offer, yet his choice came to be after he saw no point in refusing anymore (important addition and a correction here)

The canon comics had Killer saying that he’s the way he is cause he gave up, he said “you won, you’re the reason I’m like this”, he’s been on so many genocide runs that he felt a little part of him die each run, only to give up and go on said killing spree

It’s interesting how the player is a big part of Killer’s story, cause whether Chara was involved or not, the player is the root cause of his suffering

But what i love the most is that regardless of his backstory or reasons, Killer’s actions led to their inevitable consequences, and it forever changed him

The biggest change? His very soul, it went from a normal monster soul to his signature target soul, infused with Determination, something that supposedly hurts monsters, it’s almost like his soul was infected with it, and you can see how it physically affects him with the black liquid that constantly comes out his eyes, nose and mouth, and even at times, that sludge is too much that he chokes on it

And the amusing yet tragic parallel? Killer aimed to “feel something new” by his genocide runs, only to end up not feeling anything at all, at least at his default stage 2

Which brings me to the concept of his soul’s stages

I love Killer’s stages so so much, it’s such a beautiful unique and wonderful concept

Killer’s individual stages are sooooo intriguing to me, it shows Killer in a different light each time depending on which stage he’s in, stage 1 is the closest he is to being “sans”, the closest to he used to be, he can feel emotions and is generally back to his more lazy bones attitude, as well as his ability to actually show sympathy, and feel the pain he’s always in, but what’s interesting is that regardless of the fact he’s the closest to his old self in this stage, it’s still so clear that Killer isn’t really “sans” anymore, that no matter what, he truly had changed in a way that can never be reversed, a point of no return, even when Color saves him, cause his new habits? His fears? His pain? His trauma? They can never be taken away, Killer has to live with the scars of what he experienced

Stage 2 is who he’d become, he can’t feel anything at this stage, emotions nonexistent, and his nonchalant behavior towards himself and others is most apparent here, a parallel I like to think of is that Killer’s inability to feel anything at all is almost like prolonged sensory deprivation, when you’re deprived of sensory input/ simulation for long periods, your brain needs compensate, and so it does its job, Killer’s soul prevents him from feeling so he resorts to other methods (usually very self destructive) to compensate for his lack of emotional capacity

I also really really love how that especially during stage 2, Killer isn’t trustworthy, cause in stage 1 you can actually trust him to an extent, in stage 2 Killer’s actions, behaviors and mindset are completely unpredictable, but not because he’s random, cause he’s actually extremely calculated, yet regardless, his carelessness when it comes to his own life and other people’s lives is dialed to an 11 here, so he could either choose to kill/attack or simply stay and listen

we even get an actual in depth look at how Killer’s mind works in one of the canon comics, in which Killer contemplates whether to attack Dream or not as he listens to his own stages in his head, one of which tells him to Kill Dream, while the other tells Killer to talk to Dream first

How Killer comes to a final decision on whether he attacks or not is something I believe his calculated mind makes depending on the situation and the pros/cons of what act he chooses, Killer is pretty smart, he knows when to let his trigger happy self out and when to settle down

Stage 3 or the “crazy stage” is the stage in which he’d attack anyone in his way whether friend or foe, we unfortunately don’t have much canon info regarding this stage, but that ain’t gonna stop me from analyzing the shit outta it (and talk about how i perceive it)

I like to think of this stage as the combination between stage 1 and 2, yet it’s almost like his soul can’t truly decide on which stage to settle on and by extension founding stage 3 as a separate stage by itself, Killer becomes extremely unstable at this stage, his soul moves rapidly and it’s obvious he’s in pain cause of it, whether that pain is just emotional or both physical and emotional isn’t really clear, yet i’d like to believe it’s both, and i feel like Killer’s capacity to attack anyone at this stage is related to that pain, and something I really love to believe is that Killer can’t calm down enough to settle back to stage 1 or 2 unless he either wears himself out by fighting someone, or he’s left alone to his own demons long enough to pull himself together, if he were to be forcefully restrained during this stage, it would only serve to make it worse and prolong the time he stays that way (cough something i may or may not have made a quick comic about but never shared as always vjvjvjj)

Not to mention, one of the canonical responses Killer gives when asked if he’s ok at stage 3 seems to make Killer alternate between answers he wants to give between saying he’s “fine” and “i don’t know” which makes sense, Killer isn’t stable at all, it’s almost like his stage 1 self and stage 2 self are fighting over who gets to talk (stage 2 seems more dominant)

Yet the fact Killer is able to answer and comprehend his surroundings enough at this stage is very intriguing to me, cause it shows how much Killer is able to handle/endure (which is A LOT cause damn) and not only that, but it also gives us a very clear difference between this stage and stage 4

As for stage 4?? Woooh boi, it’s the stage I like to call “plunging into darkness”

We also don’t have much canon info about this stage, but one of the things i find interesting is the fact Killer deliberately keeps it a secret from everyone, when he tells Color about his stages, he only tells him up to stage 3, never bringing up stage 4, only for Chara to sneer at Killer that he shouldn’t keep it from his new BFF

It’s obvious Killer himself is very uncomfortable with the subject of stage 4, it’s apparent that it’s a stage that he rarely gets to, but it still bothers him enough to not want to even mention it, which makes sense, cause the comic we had of stage 4 shows that Killer gets to that stage when he’s reminded of all the murders he committed, and unsurprisingly, when he’s reminded of his brother, as what triggered this stage is actually a memory of Papyrus telling Sans to “see a puzzle”, only to be followed by memories of screams of anger, fear, and hatred of those he killed immediately afterwards, stage 4 is heavily related to his trauma

Not to mention it’s clear that when Killer gets to stage 4 he blacks out, he’s completely unaware of anything he does during this stage, and is only left to deal with the aftermath when he gets back to his senses, the fact it’s also a stage that seems to be “getting worse” is something that Killer definitely seems to hate

It sometimes makes me think whether Killer had gotten into trouble cause he killed someone Nightmare wanted alive while at this stage, cause with how he keeps it a secret, I’d assume Nightmare would be unaware of it for a while (comic idea perhaps >:) )

But y’know what’s better than talking about the stages?? Talking about Killer’s personality, behaviors and trauma

Killer can’t distinguish between what’s real or not, and it’s obvious he sometimes sees the world in the third person, as in he’s not completely there at times, not to mention the amount of voices he hears in his head, from his stages talking to him to hallucinations of Chara, Frisk and Papyrus, and oooh boi does he hate these hallucinations, the past obviously haunts Killer and it’s something he tries running away from constantly, yet he can never truly run from it when it follows him everywhere

Killer has a smile on his face most the time, but his attitude changes especially when Chara is mentioned, or when he’s reminded of his past in any way, he literally avoids food that reminds of his past life as “sans”, he freezes up at certain phrases such as “best friend” (something i also made a comic about that i never shared chchhchc)

He just absolutely hates to be reminded of the person he used to be, of all the things he used to have, cause in truth? They were all taken away from him by his own hands, only to be then forced to work under Nightmare, who only ensures that he never finds peace of mind

And the sad part? Killer let’s all those things hurt him, he lets Nightmare have his way with him, he lets Chara torment him, cause he thinks he deserves it, and most importantly, he deluded himself into believing that this is what he wants because it’s what everyone else wants, because it’s what the player wants

Killer even sometimes tries to force himself not to feel anything, cause come on, since when does he feel anything at all?

Killer, to put it bluntly, hates himself, and he thinks that his suffering is the Karma of what he’s done, and even at one point, he was going to erase himself out of existence cause he believed that’s what he deserved, as in Killer thought of himself as unworthy when it comes to Papyrus, that his brother doesn’t need him, that his brother is better off without him, hell he even tells Color that he needs to kill him if he ever reaches stage 3, it’s an obvious “ i want someone to put me outta my misery” attitude

Killer feels hopeless, and so he lets himself suffer thinking he can’t ever find peace or hope again

Yet the interesting part? You’d never know that Killer hates himself unless you’re a being of emotions (Nightmare and Dream) or someone who’s perceptive enough to notice Killer’s self-loathing like Color, that’s how good of an actor Killer can be, you’d think he’s a cold emotionaless killer but the truth only shines to those who actually can see through his act

Killer just has that amazing character depth and his story is genuinely so unique and beautiful, cause you in his story you can find details of other details within the details vhvhvjvj

All that? Mixed with really adorable little things like his love for cats, his silly attitude, his nonchalance with Nightmare, his capacity to be social with whoever, and his friendship with color? That is why I love Killer Anon <33333

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 ✮⋆˙

synopsis: Your secretary Alhaitham and you have a tension full relationship, but he finally snaps after some miscommunication- or lack thereof!

tags: angst for like 1 second, explicit, cunnalingus, office setting, penetration, vulgar

wrd cnt: 1.9k

a/n: repost/rewrite from first acc!

As the CEO of a thriving business, you were known for your sharp wit and unmatched determination. Alhaitham, your steadfast secretary, had always admired you from a distance, his heart secretly harboring a deep affection for you. The dynamic between you two was a blend of professionalism and underlying emotion, a sentiment you both tried your best to hide. It was more than him getting you coffee each morning, more than the soft shoulder massages he’d give you at the end of the day, more than the glances you’d exchange at each meeting.

One evening, you find yourself mindless scrolling down a dating site. Half of you bored, half a little curious. You leave your computer on and exit your office on a lunch break.

Unfortunately for you...your secretary came in to deliver your papers and set them on your desk, glancing at the screen.

You hear the door open to the break room, Alhaitham entering.

"Ms. Y/n, would you like me to schedule anything for you this evening? Or are you doing something personal..." He asks, catching you off guard as it's not usual for him to pry like this.

"No it's fine, I do have something later tonight. Thank you though!" You reply. Watching Alhaithams eyes dim.

The night of the blind date arrived, you got ready with a mix of excitement and apprehension. You chose a stunning outfit and hoped the evening would be a pleasant distraction from all your stressors at work. However, as the night progressed, you realized your heart wasn't in it.

You find yourself subconsciously comparing your date to Alhaitham, his genuine care, and the way he always seemed to know what you always needed. He's always there, fixing things up, making your life so easy and balanced. He knew how to make you happy.

During a lull in the conversation, your date asked if everything was okay. You hesitated before admitting that your mind was elsewhere.

Unbeknownst to you, Alhaitham had decided to swing by the same restaurant after his work hours. It was one of his favorites and one he made you familiar with too, hence why you even decided to pick it for your date.

He had been feeling restless all evening, and a strange intuition led him there. And of course he saw you and your date, talking and spending an evening dinner together.

His heart raced, and he couldn't ignore the surge of emotion. He sat at the other end of the room for about 10 minutes; before getting up and leaving.

You stood up, your body reacting without your minds permission. You followed after him for 20 minutes. Your poor date left in confusion, but it didn't matter.

After not much longer you find Alhaitham back at the office.

You park your car adjacent to his and enter the building, feeling your knees shake as you felt like you did something wrong. You two had always had a sort of...tension. Unspoken, undelved, and more complicated than you could explain.

You're going up the elevator, you know exactly where he could be. Your intuition speaks true.

"Alhaitham!...there you are." You say in a sigh, catching him in your office, organizing the filing cabinet as his light green eyes cut through the air separating you two in the room.

You walk closer to him, the night sky illuminated by the lights of the city, the moon shining through the big glass walls of your corner office.

"Is something the matter? There's no work left on your agenda for tomorrow....l checked." He remarks, pretending like nothing had happened.

"Meaning you have none either...why are you here Alhaitham? You just- left? You didn't even say Hi..." You mention.

His head quickly turns as if you’ve offended him.

"You...wanted me to come talk to you while you were on a date with your partner?"

"My partner? I just met that guy tonight...why would that be a problem anyways?" You say.

Alhaithams scoffs, visibly trying to articulate himself in the professional manner he’s tried so hard to maintain with you.

"It's just-it's not appropriate, is all, we have a professional relationship, right?"

"Well, I mean I consider you a friend, you don't think the same?"

Alhaitham slams the filing cabinet shut, truthfully startling you.

"Your friend? I am your secretary. I plan your meetings, I make your spreadsheets, I bring you coffee, I make sure you finish your agenda, and I take care of all your needs."

"Then why are you acting like this...?" You say in a lighthearted tone, laughing smally. "What do you not approve of my date or something?" You laugh as you get closer to him, a little too close to call friendly.

You let that comment slip out of your mouth, and quickly it's replaced with Alhaithams tongue.

Pinning you to the wall you once leaned on as you spoke, now moaning into his mouth.

He pulls away, his lips touching you as he speaks. "I take care of you. I should be the one you spend your evening with. Right here. In this officer." He mutters, before you pull him back into the kiss.

You can't help but melt right into him, his grip now released from wrists as your hands wrap around his head, his hands holding your waist and the side of your face.

"I didn't know you felt that way...should have said something sooner."

"Well I'm saying it now. You're my boss. Mine to take care of. Mine."

The kiss doesn't last long before things get heated, your secretary now kissing down your neck...unbuttoning your top as his lips trial down your body. He throws your clothes nicely on top the chair nearby, as he works his way down your waist, leaving a trial of evidence down your body.

His jade green eyes glisten in the moonlight, as he drags your panties down with his teeth.

"You can't know how long l've wanted to do this... y/n. How long l've admired you, watched you, I serve you completely." He says, as you feel his warm breathe around out cunt.

"Alhaitham... what are y-" You're cut off, feeling Alhaithams mouth split your lips open, his tongue grazing up your folds and circling your clit. You try to stay standing, holding yourself up with a hand on the cabinet, your other on top of his head. He looks up at you frequently, as he kneels below of you: licking your hole and pumping his fingers inside it. He sucks on every part of your cunt, tasting every inch like his salary depends on it.

The feeling of his hands running up your thighs, and his mouth sucking on your swollen clit, push you over the edge in no time. The vibrations of Alhaithams moans send themselves into your cunt, forcing you to cum; all, over, his face.

You writher and squirm while your knees shake.

Feeling his large tongue lick every drop of cum that spills out of you. Wiping the corners of his mouth with his fingers and sucking it off, savoring you.

He comes back up and kisses you, making you taste yourself.

You kiss him deeply, wanting his tongue. You're both pulling at each other, pushing your bodies closer as you moan into each others mouths against the wall.

"Alhaitham...give me more." You say softly into his ear, as your hands rub his erecting through this pants. Your hand reacted faster than your mind, you couldn't believe this is what you and your secretary were doing right now, but you don't want to stop now.

"Y/n...let me, this is about you." He says, quickly lifting you up with his hands under your thighs, turning you around and dropping you softy on the wooden desk behind you two. Your desk.

He slowly undressed you, leaving you bare infront of him. You lift up your leg and prop it on the corner of the desk, you make him watch as you spread open your lips with two fingers, playing with your pussy while he undressed. "This is what you wanted huh? What a naught secretary."

His face got even more red, before he kissed you again. "You're what I want." He quickly says, before his mouth is latched onto your hard nipple, as the other gets rubbed and pinched by his hand.

"Keep playing with yourself, it's so fucking hot." He snared, biting and sucking your chest, softy enough to make it painless but feel so fucking good.

As Alhaitham works on your tits, his cock springs out of his last piece of clothing.

Leaving so much saliva and hickies on and around your puffy nipples, you're eyes meet with his cock. A slightly dark tan, with the prettiest shaft and a throbbing red tip; just waiting to fuck you.

"Please boss...tell me you'll have me. Let me take care of you."

"Then do it, it's your job, right?" You smirk, before you softy hiss at how good his cock felt gliding all over your folds, he slapped his tip on your clit and rubbed them together.

"God I can't wait..." He says, he grabs onto your hips, as you sit on the desk.

You look down at his cock while it starts to disappear into your sopping wet pussy. Each inch making you gasp and squirm.

"Fuck...Alhaitham, it's not going to all fit..." You hear him grunt, before slamming it all into you. "It has to...it all has to fit y/n, I need you to feel it." He says, as your mouth can't keep in any of the sounds it's making.

His thrusts are slow and calculated, his thumb rubs your sore, engorged clit, while his cock is feeling your walls.

You can't help but fall back as his thrusts get more desperate, shaking you along with the table; which you now lay on, your tits bouncing up and down with it.

"Tell me y/n, will you remember me every time you sit here? Will you remember my cock fucking your tight little hole, like this?" He says harshly, needing you to need him.

You can't even reply, as the only thing coming out of your mouth is his name as you clench around his thick cock.

His body drops down towards you, his arms holding himself up which now lay on both sides of your face, feeling his hair on your forehead.

He's grunting and moaning right into your hear, turning you on even more while his hard cock doesn't stop rutting into you.

"Y/n...fuck, please forgive me...I can't stop boss."

You continue to gasp at the feeling of his cock even more close to you now, as his lips find your neck once again and create more areas for you to hide the next morning.

"Y-Y/n... i'm so fucking close...l don't think I can-"

Alhaithams words find no finish, but he does; you can feel warm ropes of thick cum coat your walls.

You've already came on his cock so many times, but you finish again from the feeling of his release inside you. His breathe is heavy on your neck, his knees buck a few times while his cock still stuffs you, cum oozing out onto the table and the floor all the while.

The night ends with him licking all the cum off you, gently and so lovingly. Dressing you, kissing you softly as he fixes up your desk. Telling you how he's always yours, always there, always the one who will take care of you. Only him.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[weird-is-life]

hey lovie! what about a remus x reader where he sees her asleep in the back of the library one evening on his prefect rounds and he wakes her up. he is more concerned on how long she’s been studying/asleep since it’s so late…on their walk she just walks with him during his rounds because they are just chatty

they both fancy each other but neither of them think the other thinks the same. he walks her back to gryf tower snd he finally says what he’s wanted to say for years

(i hope that makes sense and if ya hate the idea, no problemo lol)

xoxo

Hii lovely🥰 ty for the request. I tried my best, hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, use of y/n, like one swear word, (0.9k)

Remus has seen you many times before. Either in the common room, halls, dining room, and the most in the library.

Remus always sees you in the library. Sitting quietly more at the back of the room. Either reading some book or doing the assignments for the classes.

So it's no surprise to see you here even now. But it definitely catches him off guard seeing you here so so late. Remus was on the last one of his prefect rounds before heading to bed himself, and he wasn't expecting to see you in the library.

Remus, from a shorter distance, notices that you are asleep. Softly exhaling one breath after another. Something stirs in Remus's heart at the sight of you, but he ignores it.

Remus approaches you, and tries to wake you up as nicely as he can. He doesn't want to scare you. He gently shakes you by your shoulder, and whispers your name a few times.

You rouse from sleep, blinking,  completely baffled by Remus's handsome face.

Remus thinks you are even more cute when you are half asleep. It's not doing any favors to his feelings for you. But he wills those thoughts away, and says, "sorry, y/n. You fell asleep in the library, and it's getting pretty late."

The sleep haze quickly dissappears when you realise where you are. You are up on your feet in a matter of seconds, packing your things away.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I was reading, and-and I must have fallen asleep," you explain in a mild panic. You would be in a lot of trouble if it was anybody else other than Remus that had found you here. Students aren't allowed out of their dorms this late at night.

"It's alright," Remus reassures you with a warm smile," I've done that so many times. I can't even count how many times James or Sirius had to walk down here to retrieve me."

"Really?" you giggle quietly, still very much sleepy and a little stressed.

"Yeah, really," Remus chuckles, too. "Now c'mon, let's get you to your dorm. I'll walk you there. Well, that is if you don't mind."

You shake your head. Indicating that you don't mind at all. Your cheeks go pretty pink as Remus and you start to walk towards the dorms.

You've always thought that Remus was so handsome, and so so smart. You'd never done anything about your crush, of course. Too scared to say anything. But that doesn't mean you haven't been admiring him. You have just-........from afar.

"Why were you in the library so late?" Remus asks to fill in the awkward quiet between you. And also he's a bit worried about you staying there until so late.

"Just studying, I couldn't figure out one assignment," you sigh. You still haven't figured it out, even if you stayed in the library for so many hours.

"The one for the potions?"

"Yeah," you admit in defeat," I've read everything I possibly could, but still i didn't find the answer."

Remus gives you a hesitant smile. You two are just a few steps from the dorms. You were walking too long in the awkward silence, and now the flowing conversation is about to end.

"I can give you the answer. I'll give it to you right away if you give me a second to look for it in my room," Remus instantly offers.

He's spent good few hours trying to find the answer too, so he understands how frustrating it can get. So he's very willing to give you the answer just so you don't go to bed with that on your mind. And also because he likes you, like a lot, and he would give you literally anything if you'd asked for it. He's down that bad for you.

"Really? I would really appreciate it, Remus," you say, happy about his help. You can't even think of how you could possibly thank him for it.

"Just give me a second," he turns towards his dorm, but he suddenly freezes halfway to the door.

Remus abruptly gets a better idea or well it depends on how well it goes. He just can't help his feelings for you any longer, and he needs to know what you feel, too. Even if he may get rejected, and end up with a broken heart.

Remus slowly turns around to face you again, a shy smile on his face.

"Or-r," he starts," we could go to Hogsmeade during the weekend, and I could explain it to you there. With something nice to eat and drink." Remus blurts it out in one breath.

Your eyes go very wide. Is Remus Lupin asking you out on a date or are you still very much asleep in the library, dreaming of this moment?

"L-like a date?" you sheepishly ask, blushing, and looking everywhere but him after your question.

"Yes. Exactly like a date." Remus states, looking nervous and hopeful at the same time.

You look up at him with a smile, you can't really believe that this is happening, " I think, I'd love that."

"Really?" Remus questions happily.

"Yes, really," you nod your head, sending a reassuring smile his way.

"Great. I can't wait," he tells you with a visible excitement.

"Me too," you admit bashfully.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow. We can sort out the time then. Goodnight, y/n," Remus says, giving you one more soft smile of his.

"Yes, tomorrow then. Goodnight to you too, Remus," you wave him goodbye, and quickly dissappear into your dorm before you can collapse on the spot from the way your legs have turned to jello.

You think you can hear pretty loud cheers of the Marauders as you head to change into your pyjamas. A shy giggle escapes your mouth when you think about Remus telling his best mates about your date, and them being so happy about it.