#Autumn Writes

[yearning-for-autumn]

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

"Fine, I'll go with you." Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F! Reader

Summary: It was exciting waiting for your boyfriend amongst the sea of families. If only your boyfriend didn't have a whole family waiting for him too. Thank god Lt. Seresin is there to save the day.

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F! Reader

Warnings: Language, Cheating (not Jake!), protective Jake, asshole ex-boyfriend, military inaccuracies I'm sure.

Cross Posted on AO3

The homemade sign feels heavy in your hands. Your heart pounds steadily in your chest as a sea of blue uniforms begins to unload from the massive carrier. It feels incredible to be drowning in this sea of love and reunions. Families crying in each other's arms as they make it through another deployment, another separation. 

It would only be a matter of time before you could feel the same euphoria. You step on your tip toes, trying to seek him out when someone stumbles into you from behind. “Sorry,” she shakes her head, “I’m a mess right now.” 

She certainly looks it, a newborn strapped to her chest in a carrier and a toddler barely holding on, trying to bolt every chance he gets. “No worries,” you’re quick to reply, glancing down at the large sign and balloons in her hand. 

You pause, reading and re-reading it over again. Nicolas Arias. There is no doubt you could be reading it wrong and when you get a glance at the toddler again, your stomach churns. He is a spitting image of Nick…your Nick. You carefully fold up the sign and go to turn when you hear the little boy shout, “DADDY!” at the top of his lungs. 

Why you glance back, you don’t know but your chest aches when you see him, his smile blinding as he bends down to pick up the little boy. “Hi buddy,” you hear him shout, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around. He looks back at the woman, his eyes softening at the bundle against her chest, “and hello Princess,” he coos, “nice to meet you, I’m your daddy.” 

The tears spring to your eyes, and you quickly suck in a deep breath when his eyes lift to meet yours. He pauses, a deer caught in the headlights, you can see it, the raw panic on his face. Before you turn and walk away, you’d be damned if you were going to ruin this happy homecoming. While Nick is a fucking cheating bastard, and you would certainly be sending an anonymous letter to his wife later, they didn’t deserve this today. 

All around you is love and reunions, but instead, you just feel sick. The parking lot is jam-packed and you look around before stepping onto the road, letting out a gasp when someone grabs your arm and quickly pulls you back into a broad chest. A truck roars out of the lot, a handful of sailors inside shouting about freedom and shots. 

“Fuck,” you turn, taking in the man before you, he’s gorgeous; with blonde hair and eyes that look like the sea after a storm, “thank you,” you whisper, taking a step back when you realize you’re still in his arms. 

He smiles, but it doesn’t really meet his eyes, “not a problem, darling,” his accent surprises you, maybe Texan with a slight twang. He points down at the sign crumbled in your hand, “Didn’t find who you were looking for?” 

“Oh,” you glance at the sign, tossing it into the nearby trash can, “I found him alright. Along with his wife, newborn, and toddler.” 

He grimaces, “What a fucking turd waffle.” 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes, “a turd waffle?” 

He grins, “if the shoe fits.” Suddenly you notice a figure rushing towards you and you groan, turning quickly away mumbling obscenities under your breath. 

“Sweetheart,” Nick runs to your side, pulling you in for a hug, but you stay stiff as a board. “I can explain everything.” You step out of his arms putting some distance between you, the mystery man steps up behind you, towering over you like a looming bodyguard. 

“I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other Nick,” you wrap your arms around your waist, “seeing you married with two kids was enough of an explanation for me.” 

Nick stares down the man behind you, “Hey buddy, can you give us some privacy?” 

“Lieutenant Commander Seresin to you, Ensign,” he stands straighter, Nick pailing as he recognizes the name, “and I’ll leave when the lady tells me to.” 

“Please don’t go,” you whisper stepping back closer into his arms, one of his massive hands resting on your waist, strong and sure. 

“Seems like she’s made up her mind,” he grins, confidence coming off him in waves. “Why don’t you go back to your family and save this young lady the trouble of putting up with any more of your bullshit.” 

“I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” Nick takes a step closer, reaching for your arm, “sweetheart you just have to let me explain.” A wall of man blocks his path, “get the fuck out of my way,” Nick seethes, “I want to talk to my girl.” 

You step around the Lieutenent, “I’m not your girl anymore, you’re married for Christ's sake, with TWO kids,” you hold up two fingers for emphasis. 

“It didn’t bother you before,” he shrugs, “why should it now?” 

“I didn’t fucking KNOW,” you shout, drawing attention from several others around you, “do you really think I’d be here standing like an idiot waiting for you if I knew you were married?! Do you really think I would be dating you or sleeping with you, if I had any idea you had a wife?!” 

Nick looks around at the onlookers before letting out a scoff, “I knew you were a whore. Looks like you already replaced me, ain’t that right? And with someone of higher rank.” He laughs, “Keep this up baby and you can fuck an Admiral before the year ends.” 

“Stand down, Ensign Arias,” your protector steps closer, his jaw clenched, “go back to your family and leave now. Before I court-martial your ass.” 

“What the hell for?” Nick shouts. 

“Harassing civilians, disgracing the uniform, threatening an Officer, the list goes on and on.” Nick pales before he spits at the ground. 

“You can have her,” he glares at you, “wasn’t that good of pussy anyways.” The Lieutenant takes a threatening step closer, and you grab his arm while Nick scurries away like a rat. 

You both watch him walk away before you let go of his arm, “thank you,” you whisper, feeling the tears well up in your eyes, “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t here.” 

“He really is a turd waffle,” he mumbles and you burst out laughing, the tears spilling down your cheeks. He hesitantly lifts a hand, brushing the tears off your cheeks, and you lean into his palm closing your eyes, his thumb brushing back and forth. “Jake,” he mumbles and you slowly open your eyes, blinking at him, “My name is Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin. 

You tell him your name and he repeats it back, the words like honey on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you,” he repeats it again making you shiver. “Would you like to join me for a drink? I know this really great Navy bar called the Hard Deck, and I was going to meet up with a few of my fellow officers and their families.” 

“One question,” you step closer, and his hand drops from your cheek, moving to your waist as he whispers anything under his breath. “Are you married or currently seeing anyone? No secret mistresses or lovers I should be concerned about?” 

He grins, tugging you by the hooks in your denim jeans closer his lips ghosting over yours, “no, ma’am, I’m a one-woman type of man. And right now,” he presses his lips to yours in a soft kiss, stars exploding across your vision, before pulling back, “I’d like that woman to be you.” 

“Fine, I’ll go with you, but only on one condition,” you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down and closer to your lips. 

“What’s that?” he smiles, all the way up to his eyes, glancing down at you like you’re the only one around for miles. 

“You do that again,” and he does. 

A/N: Comments are appreciated, and yes this is me begging.

[many-sparrows]

my body is a temple but it's from one of those ancient sects of Christianity that evangelicals have never heard of and the walls are crusted with icons and relics and artwork you can't interpret and there's moss growing everywhere and it's been witnessing miracles for thousands of years and it would horrify most mainstream American Christians

[chaosoftheages]

"Purple totally wasn't bottling up his emotions to keep King from worrying about him.

He totally wasn't.

...Okay, maybe he was."

THAT IS SUCH A PURPLE THING FIGHT ME-

[henryclaremontdiaz]

on a golden throne.

“I’m just curious! Are you saying there’s no absolutely filthy fantasy you have that you want me to help make a reality?” Alex asked as he wrapped his arms around Henry’s middle. Henry let out a small hum, and that’s all Alex needed. He grinned and propped his head up, his eyes landing on Henry’s averted gaze. “Fine. But it’s stupid and reckless and totally impossible.” --- Henry has always had a fantasy of fooling around in the throne room. Alex decides he must make it happen.

read on ao3 or below

“Baby-“ 

“Don’t you ‘baby’ me, Claremont-Diaz.”

“I’m just curious! Are you saying there’s no absolutely filthy fantasy you have that you want me to help make a reality?” Alex asked as he wrapped his arms around Henry’s middle. 

Henry let out a small hum, and that’s all Alex needed. He grinned and propped his head up, his eyes landing on Henry’s averted gaze. “Fine. But it’s stupid and reckless and totally impossible.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me,” Alex countered. 

“Of course it does,” Henry said as he rolled his eyes. “Fine. It’s… that I’ve thought about fooling around while sitting on the throne,” he finally admitted. 

He could practically hear the gears turning in Alex’s head, and felt him twitch against his hip. “Fuck, you’re so dirty.”

Alex couldn’t help but imagine it as he rolled on top of Henry, leaning in to kiss him softly. “You really want to stick it to your royal ancestors, huh?”

Henry rolled his eyes but his hands moved to roam over Alex’s thighs, biting his bottom lip. “The idea of a gay prince getting off on the throne? Yeah. I think they’d hate it. And it’d be so hot,” he admitted, his hands moving up to rest on his ass. “And it feels like you like it too,” he teased.

Alex chuckled, kissing his neck carefully. As much as he’d love to give Henry a hickey, the last time he left a love bite anywhere that could be seen, Henry (and the palace) was pissed.

But fuck was it hot when he was pissed. 

Henry bucked up against him, his cock starting to stiffen under him. Alex hummed against his skin, kissing down to his collarbone. “There’s not a spot on this Earth that I haven’t imagined touching you in, of course this would turn me on,” Alex said, gently nipping at his skin. “Who would’ve thought that the Prince would be such a dirty little whore.”

“Maybe you corrupted me.”

“We both know you were as much of a slut as I was before we got together, yours were just more secretive,” he pointed out.

“Me? Never. I’ve been such a pure prude, absolutely chaste until I met you.”

“Oh you’re so full of shit,” Alex said with a laugh, his hand trailing down between them. He wrapped his hand around Henry, stroking him slowly. 

Henry groaned lowly, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. “A complete virgin.” 

Alex rolled his eyes, but continued to stoke Henry. “Sure thing, pretty boy.”

Days later, Alex was leading Henry through the halls of the palace by his hand. 

“What are you doing, Alex?” he asked, confused. They tried to stay away from this part of his life as much as possible, but Alex insisted. 

And he never says no to Alex.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re going to love this.”

Henry was concerned, but he followed Alex all the same. He trusted him, he trusted him with his life. He had to.

They entered the throne room and Henry started to sweat, his heartbeat picking up. “Alex,” he started, a warning tone to his voice.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be interrupted,” he assured him before pulling him in for a kiss. “I bribed your brother to make sure we’d be alone.”

Henry pulled away, looking at him as he laced their fingers together. “For what?” he asked.

Alex smirked, and Henry felt the energy change in the room immediately. “I think you know for what. Remember the other night?” 

Henry thought for a moment before his face heated up, eyes growing wide. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

Henry tried to look angry at him, he really did, but he felt his cock twitch in his pants all the same. Fuck, Alex really was perfect for him. 

Alex led him to the throne and pushed him towards it, towards what should be his rightful spot. He didn’t care that he was the spare, he always felt Henry would run the country better than his brother ever could. 

Henry looked nervous at first, but when he sat down all those royalty ancestor instincts kicked in. His face went from nervous to cocky, and he crossed his legs as he looked down at Alex. And fuck, did that turn him on. “So, you’re here to serve your prince?” he asked, and the tone in his voice made Alex swallow hard. 

“Of course I am, your highness,” he said, his eyes sparkling at the thought. 

Alex walked closer to him and leaned down to kiss him. Henry stopped him, placing his hand on his head. He smirked at him, pushing his head down and hoping he got the hint. “No kissing. You’re here to make me feel good, nothing more,” he commanded, hoping he wasn’t crossing a line. But he knew if anyone would tell him they weren’t into something, it was Alex.

Luckily for him, he saw Alex’s pupils dilate at his words. “Yes sir,” he said, his voice deepened with lust. “I’m just a mouth for my prince.” As he said that he got down on his knees before the throne, looking up at Henry through those damn eyelashes of his. Alex worked open his pants, slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He pushed them open and pulled down the waistband of his underwear, pulling out his hardening cock. 

Henry sighed contently at the pressure being relieved, his eyes closing for a moment. The sigh turned into a gasp when Alex licked his tip, all the time looking up at him under hooded lid. “F-uck.”

Alex took him into his mouth, sucking on the head. He took Henry down slowly, and it took a lot for him to not break character. It felt so good, but the whole situation is what made it. He rested his hand in Alex’s hair, like he knew he loved. 

And to remind him that His Royal Highness was who was in control. Not him. 

“Mmm, such a good boy,” Henry praised, knowing how much Alex loved it. “Maybe you should become the official royal cock warmer. Just spend your days on your knees with me in your mouth, making sure I’m taken care of. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, and he moaned when he felt Alex mumble around his cock.

Alex pulled off of him with a messy ‘pop’, stroking him and licking him. “Yes sir. Only here to service the Prince of England,” he said, a dirty smile on his lips. “I’ll take good care of you. I’m here just for your pleasure, for your release. I can’t wait for you to bless me by cumming down my throat, when I’m nothing but a lowly peasant,” he said, rubbing Henry’s thigh with one hand and his cock with the other.

And fuck, if that didn’t get Henry going, he didn’t know what would.

Henry pushed Alex’s head back to his cock, and Alex eagerly took him back into his mouth. Henry’s eyes closed as he gave into pleasure, his hand still resting in Alex’s hair. “Mmm, yes. Just like that,” he groaned. He kept moaning as Alex sucked him off, he was always so good at it. The best Henry had ever had, even if he wasn’t experienced before him. He was a quick learner, and Henry had been eager to teach. 

Alex swallowed around his cock, reaching down to play with his balls as he continued to suck his cock. Henry felt himself growing close, there was something about being there. Being in the spot that so many of his ancestors had been, so many of his ancestors had ruled countries from that seat. Racist, homophobic, and their lineage had led to a gay prince getting head from a brown, queer man right there where they had called for the death of so many people that had been like them - had looked like him. 

And God, he was going to cum.

He felt his balls draw up, and he whined pathetically. He tugged at Alex’s hair, and let out another moan. “Fuck, Alex. I’m going to cum,” he warned. 

Alex moaned around him and didn’t stop what he was doing, he wanted nothing more than for Henry to cum down his throat. And after another moment, he did just that. Henry’s back arches and his hips buck as he came, Alex’s name on his lips as he shot his release into Alex’s perfect mouth. 

Henry relaxed as he came down from his high, pulling out of Alex’s mouth and wiping a small amount of spit from the side of Alex’s mouth. “Fuck, that was amazing,” he said, and Alex pulled off of him with a smile. 

“I know, right?” he said happily.

“Maybe next time we should… in the Oval Office,” Henry offered.

“It’s a date.”

[loveandlessons]

i can wait for fall. i can enjoy my summer without thinking of fall. i don’t need the gloomy weather. i can be normal for once and enjoy hot summer days. i don’t need candles lit on every surface of my house. i can just open the window and let the sunlight in. i don’t need horror movies and pumpkins when i have the summer activities and the beach. don’t think about fall. don’t think about fall.

I NEED FALL NOW

[midautumnnightdream]

Marius, tormented by guilt, receives some visits from his old friends.

[st0rmyskies]

Oooo look who's following up on that omegaverse fic I didn't write!!

@autumnalchemist is writing a really fabulous and heartfelt work about Malon's emotional turmoil following the events of Trust Us. When will these boys learn that their actions have consequences?

[chaotic-symphony]

how do people know when a conversation needs to be had?

how do you know when a concern is real enough to be brought up?

often times i feel like i already know what people are gonna say. and by then the conversation feels redundant.

i usually can tell when my thoughts are irrational and sm able to eventually steer my way through them

but even when i do decide to have this conversation. the moment i begin to write and look at the person to say what needs to be said. the words do not exist.

and i never understand why.

how is it i go from thinking about a topics for hours or even a few days to the point i've explored every outcome.

how is it in those moments i always forget what i wanted to say.

how does one learn to communicate anyways.

sometimes i think i understand it finally and then the next moment i dont

i've begun to realize maybe making friends isnt something i struggle with

its keeping them.

i can connect with a person on a surface level i can participate in there jokes, and listen to them talk about their interests.

but did i ever truly learn how to connect to people on an emotional level?

am i even capable of that.

logically i must be. im a human being. and its not like i dont care cause i do. i care very deeply about my friends but i never seem to know when to say or do anything

[amaretto-sours]

it's like a 7k fic (maybe 10 if i stretch it???) and yet my outline is literally 1.2k lmao

[patroclusplaylist]

warm autumn slumber //pinterest

[yearning-for-autumn]

Azriel NSFW Alphabet

A/N: Literally no one asked for this, also I may have gone a bit overboard so like if anyone who knows me sees this no you didn't.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Azriel is king of the princess treatment. Whilst he is rough in bed, he is gentle and sweet with you once it’s all over, he’ll run his hands softly down your body whispering how well you did, how good you were for him. Then he’ll scoop you up and run you both a bath, getting in with you to wash your hair and hold you.

Butterfly kisses….enough said.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Azriel is an ass guy, he likes boobs but he will always admire a shapely bum. He loves to grab it, slap it, rub soothing circles on it as he fucks you. He loves to have you bounce up and down on his cock facing away from him as well so he can watch it jiggle. To a lesser extent, he loves your neck as well, he loves to leave hickies to stake his claim…possessive Illyrians…

His favourite body part of his own is probably his wings. He’s a bit smug about the fact he has the biggest wingspan of his brothers, and on a sadder note he is just thankful he can use them, that he learnt to fly and the freedom they represent for him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man cums heavy. Like…it’s going to be dripping from you. He loves coming over your arse, watching those stripes of white paint your red backside.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Azriel doesn’t really like to admit, but he is pretty touch starved. He doesn’t allow many people to touch his wings but the first time you did he came almost immediately. It took a little while for him to build up some stamina with you in that area. 

On a dirtier note…Azriel has a bit of a fantasy of fucking you in the same room as Cassian and Nesta. He loves how feisty Nesta is, knowing she’s a bit of a brat for Cassian. He wants to show off how much of a good girl you are for him, make Cassian Jealous that he can do absolutely anything to you and you’ll thank him for it. He also wants to see you fuck Nesta…whilst he fucks Cass. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Azriel is very experienced. He has had a lot of lovers over the years but he is not very experienced in having a long term relationship. That being said, he has taken subs before and is very confident in his abilities to practise BDSM safely and sanely. He takes your comfort very seriously and has experience with many different wants and needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Honestly any, but he loves sitting up with you in his lap, either bouncing you up and down on his cock, or having your back pressed against his chest as he cradles you and rubs your clit until you cum. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be if he thinks you’re really nervous but mostly he’s in the zone. When he fucks you, he does it right, and he’s concentrating on your pleasure…(or punishment).

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps things neat down there but he’s not completely hairless. He doesn’t have a preference on whether you choose to shave or not.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Azriel can turn on the romance if need be, but his expertise lies in being a dom, he’s not not romantic…but he’s definitely not sweet and gentle with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Azriel masturbates quite frequently. He’s got a high sex drive and so when you’re away or he’s on a mission he won’t think twice before taking himself in his hand. He’s also a fan of masturbating together, and loves pumping his thick cock to the sight of you rubbing your clit, head thrown back in self made ecstasy. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

DDLG - I’m a firm believer in daddy!az, he loves to spoil you, he’s not a brat tamer but you’re such a good girl for him that he doesn’t have to be. 

Breeding - I think this is an Illyrian trait that he’s a little ashamed of. He loves pumping you full of cum, and pushing it back in. It gets him all hot and bothered to whisper in your ear how hot he thinks you would look full with his child.

Spanking - This male just can’t leave your ass alone…if your butt is out it’s getting slapped. He loves taking you over his knee, panties on at first then spanking you hard until you soak through the fabric.

Dom/Sub - I think he can switch, and does enjoy subbing occasionally, but mostly likes to see your submission to him. He likes the quiet submission, doing up your shoes, cooking you dinner because you’re just his little girl and need him to help you. He also likes to have you kneel at his side whilst he works, head resting on his knee.

This might be a bit out of pocket but I also think he has a teeny bit of a piss kink, but he keeps this to himself unless you are very adventurous. Look SJM said he was a freak alright but everyones afraid to make him really freaky…..

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s quite a private male so nowhere you’re likely to get caught. He can be swayed…but it’s at your own risk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly anything turns him on. You could walk past him and he would grab you by the hips, pull you to his chest and ask if you want to play. What really turns him on though is when you initiate. When you crawl into his lap, all shy like, bat your eyelashes and ask him…daddy, can we play? Cauldron, he’ll be hard before you’ve finished asking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Azriel isn’t into hurting you too much. He finds scratching, blood play, and anything unnecessarily rough too far and he won’t do it unless you eased him into it. His hard no is fire, anything to do with it, candles and wax play…he won’t go there at all. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Look, the man is a giver and is good at it, but god does he love a blowjob. Give Azriel a blow job. He wants it. He’d reward you so good for it. He’s gonna cradle your head and stroke your hair while you do it. Please.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If it’s a special occasion he might take his time with you, fuck you all romantic, turn on the romance so to speak. But he really prefers to set the pace quite quick, it gets him off better and it probably gets you off better too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh yeah. He’s ready to go at any moment. And he’s got a busy job. Rhys asks him to do things on pretty short notice sometimes and he’s not leaving without a quick fuck. But he won’t do anything particularly kinky unless he’s got time for aftercare, he’s discussed what he wants from it, and has your input on everything involved. Your quickies are more like quick vanilla sex, you love it though, any Azriel is good for you. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Azriel would not be the kinky male he is if he wasn’t down to experiment. If you have something new for him to try he’s absolutely game, just don’t spring it on him before he’s going away or he’ll be a grumpy boy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Mm Azriel will last long, but if you touch his wings…man’s going to come prematurely and be sulky about it for the rest of the night. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes. Azriel has floggers, paddles, ropes, vibrators, (bunny ears and a bunny tail buttplug….). He loves to dress you up. And he’s not shy about using toys to enhance your pleasure. He draws the line at making a mould of his own penis though..and you have asked.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s a massive tease. He’s a condescending, teasing, smug asshole. But if you are desperate enough he will grant you relief. He will also listen seriously if you tell him you’re not in the mood for teasing. He only wants to tease if he knows you’re into it. This is why safewords exist guys. Also, and I can’t stress this enough, I firmly believe he would only tease in the bedroom, he’s not one of these guys that wants to see you mad and gets a kick out of it, I find that kind of man repulsive lowkey.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Let. Azriel. Be. Loud. In. Bed. Quiet in the streets, loud in the sheets baby. But anyway yeah he moans a lot, talks a lot, wants you to know how much you turn him on. And he wants you to be the same. He’s not happy until you’re screaming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Azriel pretends to be cocky about his body but he’s actually a bit embarrassed about getting fully naked around people. This goes away quite quickly when you start worshipping it with your mouth though–

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big boy…massive boy…he’s girthy and he’s long and Rhys and Cassian can only look and weep.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. He wants you all the time, everyday. The mating frenzy was exhausting, I hope your pussy survived.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Look he’s a male, orgasms make him sleepy, but he won’t sleep until you’re tucked up beside him and comfortable. Mans not happy until his baby’s happy.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

"Not exactly what I expected." Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F! Reader

Summary: Rooster calls you begging for help, he's got himself into a bit of a sticky situation. But it's not exactly what you expected.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + only for smut, language, toys (reference), masturbation, oral.

Cross Posted on AO3

“This is not exactly what I expected when you said you had a problem,” you rest your head on your fist, turning left and right. 

“What did you have in mind?” Rooster lets out a painful groan. 

“Well,” you approach carefully, almost like he’s a feral cat, “for one I thought you’d have clothes on.” 

He groans, covering his eyes with his left hand, “this is so fucking embarrassing.” 

“Heh,” you chuckle, “yeah it is. But it’s okay Roo, I don’t judge. I'm just wondering why you didn’t call one of the guys?” 

“This was all Hangman’s idea,” he lets out a gasp when you move it left and right, “I’d never fucking hear the end of it.” 

“You really believe I’m not going to mention this again?” He opens his eyes giving you his best glare before looking back down and grimacing. 

“It says on the package, that this doesn’t happen. That the…suction…is part of the,” he groans looking back at the sky when you give it a tug. 

“Pleasure?” you ask, smiling, “experience?” He ignores you, closing his eyes as you tug it up and down. 

“Fuck,” he groans, and your hand freezes. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“No…” he whispers, breathing through his nose. 

“Oh,” his eyes open and he goes to apologize when you lean across and kiss him, your hand squeezing the device and pumping it. He chase your lips when you pull away, a tiny whimper following, “I think I know how to get this thing off.” 

“How? I-I don’t want to make you do anything you're not comfortable with.” 

“I just kissed you Bradshaw, I hoped that would be an indication of my feelings on the matter.” 

“Yeah,” he smiles, “that was really nice.” 

“Yeah?” you grin, “well to get this off I’m gonna have to use my mouth a lot more.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m going to make you cum, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” he visibly swallows, nodding along. You lean closer, whispering in his ear and licking it playfully, “and when this thing is so wet and sticky from that cum, it will just slide right off.” 

“Yeah,” he moans, reaching a hand out to touch your breast, his skilled finger pinching your nipple. 

“Yeah,” you whine, “and then you’ll be a mess baby, and someone will need to clean you all up.” 

“Who’s gonna do that?” he leans his head back on the couch. 

“I’ll give you three guesses,” you kiss down his chest, his hands tangling in your hair. 

“Hmm,” he watches, “I think I can get it in one.” 

“So cocky,” you tease, spitting at the end of his cock that sticks out. The spit sliding down between the rubber and his dick. 

“That’s why they call me Rooster, baby. That and I have a big cock.” 

“Hmm, you show your cock to all the boys at flight school? Ballsy move.” He goes to protest when you suck his balls in your mouth silencing him, and you let off with a pop, “What was that?” 

“Come on baby,” he groans, “don’t torture me like this.”

“I think you’re the one who tortured yourself,” you oblige, licking and sucking any part of him you can get, all the while pumping his cock up and down. “But I think you learned your lesson, next time you wanna get off, call me.” 

He trembles as he gets closer and closer, spurring you on. “Come on Rooster,” you urge, pumping and sucking him harder, “I wanna see that big cock you’re named for.” 

“I’m gonna show you,” he moans, “fuck baby, I want to feel you all around me. I wanna be inside you, fucking you full of my cum.” 

His words are filthy but you love that shit, your hand reaching down into your soft shorts and rubbing your clit. He notices, his eyes focused on the way you’re rubbing yourself, getting off on his words. 

“Oh, you like that baby? Like it when I tell you all the dirty fantasies I’ve had about you? I want to taste you, sweet girl, I want your pussy all in my mustache, so I can smell you for days. I can make you squirt, I’ve done it before.” 

You squeeze his cock tightly and he shouts, before letting out a laugh, “okay baby, my girls got a little of a jealous streak.” 

“You listen here Bradshaw,” you sit up, pulling your fingers from your pussy and putting them in his mouth. His eyes close as he sucks and licks them clean, following them as you pull away. 

His eyes widen and he has a line of drool running down his chin when you press his cock between your breasts. “I’m the only pussy you’re gonna be talking about from here on forward. I’m the one you call when you need to get off, and I’ll be the only one you take to bed and make squirt. Understood?” 

His hips rise and he thrusts between your breasts, “crystal clear, baby.” He moves quickly and you rub his balls and lick every inch that is exposed before he shoves it back inside. “Fuck,” he groans, “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Then fucking do it, Bradshaw.” He cums with a roar, the device popping off with the power of his orgasm, spraying you in the face with cum. You lick every drop you can get before sucking his cock clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” he smiles down at you. 

“I made you cum so hard, you forgot my name?” you tease and he lets out a laugh before pulling you into his chest. 

“Smart ass,” he kisses you softly, a smile spread across your face. 

“It’s better than a dumb ass,” you stand, holding out a hand for him, “now let’s take a shower, I feel sticky.” He takes your hand rising and pulling you in for a hard kiss, taking your breath away. 

“How about a bath?” he runs his nose down your cheek, pressing soft kisses. “I can get you all wet and soapy, keep my girl clean and happy.” 

“Hmm,” you pretend to think for a moment, “I was promised squirting.” 

“I’m a man of many talents baby,” he leans down, lifting you up in his arms, “ can make you cum in the shower, bathtub, counter, the bed….” he keeps kissing you and naming all the places, and ways he wants to fuck you. It might not have been what you were expecting when he called for help but it sure turned out perfect. 

[many-sparrows]

Once my friend told me that he felt Christian imposter syndrome sometimes because he had never had a big, life altering encounter with God. But we encounter God everywhere. It's in the way you let me sit on your couch and ramble about a breakup when we barely knew each other. It's in sunshine. Laughter. The faces of my friends who have never set foot in a church. It's in all the people who have shown me grace and mercy when I wholly didn't deserve it. It's the ache you've been trying to explain. It's the way that birds just know when to push their babies out of the nest. The way that I have found myself back in church even though no one would blame me if I hadn't. The way that we, creatures from a miniscule part of the universe, not only wanted to, but taught ourselves how to look into deep space. The sound of water flowing along a creek. It's the rhythm of the ocean, beating since before our species existed. You can go your whole life without having a big, come-to-jesus, altar call moment when you were "saved," and that's ok. Your faith doesn't have to run on adrenaline highs and intensity. God's in the still small voice. All the little miracles around you.

[chaosoftheages]

Blue In Perfect Prime Target

Blue: Don't worry! We have a friend in the Village who will protect us!

The CG + King:

Blue: What?

Yellow: You mean our Ravager friend?

Blue: No! The other one!

Second: What other one?

Blue: THE CHEF!

The CG: ohhhhh

Purple: The who.

Blue: He destroyed all of us with a knife.

Yellow: and then whacked Blue with a frying pan.

Second: He would've probably killed the first one in about 8 seconds.

Purple & King:

Yellow: Over a cookbook.

[henryclaremontdiaz]

Recovery

You can’t have a story of recovery without relapse. -- Charlie's hurting, Nick just wants to help.

Mentions of mental health issues, eating disorders, and hospitalization.

read on ao3

 Charlie Spring knew way too much about relapses.

 He knew his mental health was kind of, well, shit sometimes. When he was in inpatient, the therapists and nurses told him recovery wasn’t linear. He didn’t want to believe it though, he told himself they were wrong. Once he got better, he would simply just be better.

 Every day since then he’s proven himself wrong.

 When he was in the hospital, days merged together. It was like a rollercoaster, full of ups and downs. They promised him it would be better, but that it was still not a straight shot to being perfectly mentally healthy.

 Now it was less like a rollercoaster, and more like a road trip. It took some time to see, but it might be a road trip with no endpoint. He’s just along for the ride. And sometimes, it’s a fucking great ride. He’d wake up and everything would feel right, normal. Like that day would be okay. And it would.

 Those days he looks forward to most.

 The days that aren’t exciting, or even fun. They just are. And the days he can just be, that’s more than enough for him.

 Today was not one of those days.

 You can’t have a story of recovery without relapse.

 If when things were going well is like driving down the highway on a road trip, then relapses and bad days were dirty, run down bathrooms at rest stops. Or like blowing a tire.

 Sometimes it was just kind of inconvenient, when it isn’t too bad. Nick asked him about it once and the best way he could describe it was it was like an itchy shirt tag. It was annoying, and it was there in the back of your mind even when you tried to not think about it. But it wasn’t the worst thing you could feel.

 And then the other days? It tears him apart. There were days where he woke up and he just knew, he felt everything inside of him weighing him down and even the air was suffocating him. Those were the days where he didn’t want to get out of bed, what was the point?

 He knew he’d be no fun anyways, and he wouldn’t eat. So there was no need to get out of bed.

 Today, as he laid on the couch watching Inside, he realized it was going to be one of those days.

 It was the little things, first he realized not only what he was watching but that it was so mindlessly that he felt nothing at all. The next thing was that he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before.

 He felt so weak - physically and emotionally.

 Why couldn’t he do the basic thing his body needed to survive? It didn’t matter though, just because everyone else needed it that didn’t mean he did. He had gone days with barely eating and he was fine, so this was fine.

 Shit, that’s not fine, is it?

 Charlie could feel himself sinking, and it made him sick.

 He pulled his blanket up over his head as he felt the tears well up in his eyes. Why was he like this? He tried to wipe away his years but they wouldn’t stop coming, he was so pathetic. So fucking pathetic.

 He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, his head laid back against the pillow as he tried to calm his heart rate. Why couldn’t he just be better? What had been the point of all that time in the hospital, the meds, the therapy, if he was still hurting?

 What was the point of any of it?

 He didn’t want to spiral, his hand went to his phone without thinking and he opened his messages with Nick. He sent one message, quick and to the point.

   Come over.  

 Charlie curled in on himself as he waited on Nick, he didn’t know if he’d even see it but he had to hope he would. The minutes ticked by and he didn’t get a response and he felt a pain deep in his chest, soon squashed by the sound of the knock at the door. His sister let him in and he heard Nick come in, but he stayed under the blanket.

 He heard a small sigh and he expected to feel the couch dip beside him, but he was surprised when he felt himself being lifted. Nick held him close to his chest as he carried him up to his bedroom, laying down on the bed and holding him still. “Thank you,” Charlie whispered. He kept his ear to his chest, Nick’s heart a steady beat that kept him grounded.

 “You don’t have to thank me. That’s what I’m here for,” he said softly. Nick rubbed his back slowly, he hated seeing Charlie like this. It broke his heart, but he tried to see any kind of silver lining. At least Charlie was telling him when he was feeling bad now, at least he was showing this side of himself.

 He wasn’t trying to hold it in anymore.

 Charlie sniffled as he curled up closer to Nick, his face so deep into his shirt that all that surrounded him was Nick. The smell of him, the warmth of his shirt. It was something that could comfort him.

 “Why can’t I get better?” he asked, his voice muffled.

 Nick frowned, just rubbing his back more for a bit. He never knew what to do, what to say. He just knew that he loved him, and that might not be enough to fix him but it’s more than enough to get them both through the day, right? “You are better,” he finally said, looking down at Charlie’s mop of hair. “You’re so much better than you were before, just because you went back a little doesn’t mean you’re not still getting better,” he said, giving him a soft smile despite the fact that he couldn’t see him.

 “You really think so?” he asked, pulling his face away just enough to look up at him. His eyes red, Nick’s heart hurting at the sight.

 “I know so. Get some rest and start fresh when you get up. Every day’s a new day.”