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#DOOR ONCE CLOSED OPENED AND I COULD SEE THE TRUTH
annwrites · 2 days
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trick or treat one-shot collection.
— pairing: jacaerys velaryon x twin!reader
— type: modern!au | (part of a collection)
— summary: scared from the horror movies you watched with jace, you go to his room to sleep w/ him & he shows you something neat he picked up at the local pharmacy.
— word count: 727
— tags: twincest, p in v sex, cowgirl position, mating press, cock-warming, cuddling
— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea
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It’s a little past midnight when you finally force yourself out of bed and march yourself across the hall to Jace’s room.
You don’t bother knocking before simply barging in, softly shutting the door behind you.
You climb into bed next to him and throw his comforter over yourself before cuddling into his side.
“Guess the scary movies did the trick,” he mummers.
You huff in irritation. “You’re so annoying.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead before lying on his back, tucking you impossibly closer to his side.
“Now that we’re both awake, do you want to see what I picked up yesterday at the pharmacy?”
You peek an eye open in the dark in curiosity. “I don’t know, do I?”
You can practically hear him grin.
He turns away from you and you hear the handle to his bedside table jingle. The drawer slides open, then quickly shuts again before something crinkles in his hand.
He tears something open and then a green, glowing circle greets your vision.
You snort and giggle quietly. “Really? Glow-in-the-dark condoms?”
He turns his head toward you. “If you don’t like it, you could always make it disappear.”
The two of you start to laugh then.
He slides an arm around you. “We can just sleep, if you want. Or watch TV. And not a horror movie, I promise.”
You sit up then and pull down the covers before hooking your fingers beneath the waistband of Jace’s boxers.
He lifts his hips, and you tug them down his legs before dropping them to the side of the bed.
You take him in your hand and begin to stroke his flaccid length. It doesn’t take long for an erection to form, and once it does, you roll the condom down his shaft.
You smile broadly at the sight of his glowing penis.
“This is so silly,” you whisper.
He slides a hand up your back. “I thought…maybe you’d like it.”
You lean over him and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I do.”
You pull your camisole off before wiggling out of your panties next, tossing them onto the floor.
You straddle Jace’s lap and he takes himself in-hand and rubs his glowing tip against your entrance.
“Are you already wet?” He asks quietly.
You smile slightly, even if he can’t see it. In truth, while lying awake in there, you’d been half thinking about the scary movies the two of you watched together, and half thinking about what the two of you might do if you came in here to spend the night with him.
You reply by easing down the length of him with a sigh.
He grips your hips and smirks.
You rise back up a few inches and rest your hands on his chest.
“Now you see it,” you say before easing back down again. “Now you don’t.”
He chuckles. “Neat magic trick.”
You set a steady rhythm as you rock your hips against Jace’s and your eyes flutter closed while you throw your head back.
Jace sits up, and he places a flat palm against your back as he leans over you.
You lie back, and Jace throws your legs over his shoulders before setting a punishing, yet still pleasant pace between your legs.
His bed squeaks quietly as he rocks his hips against yours and your heated skin slaps together in the dark.
You clench tightly around him and moan his name.
He presses his lips to yours, and eases his tongue into your mouth, flicking it against your own.
His cock twitches at the sound of you squelching against him.
He lowers his lips next to your ear while sliding his fingers into your hair. “I love you.”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I love you, too.”
Jace lowers your legs then and he slips out of you for a moment as he lies back against the pillows at the head of the bed.
“Lie down next to me.”
You do so and he presses his chest to your back while twining an arm around your middle. His other hand guides his cock back inside of you and he kisses your hair.
“Just go to sleep,” he whispers.
You smile warmly, taking his other hand in yours, twining your fingers together, and you fall asleep with your twin inside of you.
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threestarsinline · 7 hours
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The Gala
Jason Todd x reader one-shot
Summary: It was supposed to be simple. Just accompany Jason to the party. It was also supposed to be quick. Just go in, talk to a few people, and out. But then, you find yourself meeting your boyfriend's family.
Word Count: 9.3K
Category: Fluff (established relationship) and a tiny, tiny little bit of angst
Warnings: Rich people?? Bahahsjsjs Mentions of alcohol
Author’s note: My Wayne gala fic debut (with a super original title, I know jskdks), hope you like it!
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You look at yourself once again in the mirror. The truth is that you love the image that looks back at you. You feel comfortable and true to yourself, as well as beautiful. The dress that you’re wearing playing a big part in it. Your fingers slowly trace the hem of the bright red of the soft fabric.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You know that the dress probably won’t live up to the standard of the women that will be at the place but for you, it’s beautiful and elegant, making you feel like a seven year old girl wearing her favorite princess dress and giving you the confidence that you will need tonight.
Even if the style of the dress is not as chic or as sophisticated as others, you’re sure that the red will stand out. The thought increases your nerves. You don’t usually wear red but when you saw this dress you knew that you had to buy it, you could easily see yourself in it. And also, you couldn’t wait to see Jason’s reaction.
You knew that he would love it, or so you hoped. He always liked it when you wore red, or anything for that matter. No matter how you looked he always looked at you with the same silly smile and caring eyes. But there was something in wanting to see him swoon all over you. You smile thinking of him. Even if the night ends in a disaster, you both will be at each other's side.
Just as you do a little spin to see the movement of your skirt just a bit up your knees, the doorbell rings. When you open the door Jason is looking around stressfully, breathing heavily, his hands alternating on running through his hair as if trying to fix it and adjusting his tie. He doesn’t seem to notice that you have opened the door.
“Hey,” you say softly. He turns to you.
“Hi,” he says breathlessly in return, and by the way that he’s taking you in, you can tell that it isn’t for the same reason as before. You look down shyly and put a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You then take him in, and to say that you’re not ready for the full sight in front of you is an understatement. Jason was already handsome but to see him in a suit… Your insides are doing crazy things.
“Y/N, you look… incredible.”
“Thank you.” You take a small step and on your toes you give him a kiss on the cheek. “I have to say that you look great. I think that I could get used to seeing you in a suit.” He smiles warmly but suddenly he seems to come out of his daze.
“Listen, I’m so sorry I’m late and that I kept you waiting. I got caught up before and then this stupid tie wouldn’t work with me and…” You shush him softly with a kiss and then shake your head.
“Don’t worry, I just got finished too.”
He sighs in relief, and then, with a life of their own, before you can help yourself, your hands lift to fix his hair to give it his usual style but less messy, although as always, the white streak stays as rebel as ever. Your hands slide down his neck to the lapels of his jacket and then adjust his tie that was crooked to the left.
“You know how to do that?” he says, referring to the tie.
“Not really. I have just always wanted to do that. You know, like in movies and so.” You can’t help but giggle a bit while you say that.
“Well, that makes two of us.” He takes your hands and places a kiss on them. You sigh happily, the soft gesture making you melt. You’re sure that this man is going to be the death of you. The care and affection with which he always touches and looks at you was both deadly and invigorating. “Ready?”
“I think so.”
“Because if not, you know that I wouldn’t mind one bit to stay here and take a more careful look at this gorgeous dress.” His hands find your waist and after a peck on your lips, his own meet your neck.
“I know. And that’s why we have to get going, we’re already late.” You put a hand in his chest to place some distance with the temptation of his lips, that now are pouting.
“‘A queen is never late, everyone else is simply early,’” he deadpans.
A laugh threatens to escape from your throat. “You just did not.”
“What?” he says feigning innocence, but the smirk on his lips gives him away.
“You just did not quote the queen of Genovia,” you say amused.
“Okay, first, Julie Andrews is always right. And second, you were the one that showed me that masterpiece so, you should have seen it coming.” He’s grinning from ear to ear. You wish that you could always see him like this. So happy and carefree.
“Can't say that you’re not right,” you reply while hugging him, resting your head on his chest and letting his calming scent surround you.
He then takes your face in his hands and with your noses touching he whispers, “I love you.” 
Your smile at those words never faltered. “I love you too.”
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When you two reach the manor Jason drives past the main gate and goes directly to the secondary one that leads to the back entrance of the manor in order to avoid all the fancy cars and limos that litter the road of the main one.
Even from outside you can tell that the party is already in full swing, the windows of the main living room that in these cases often transforms into a dance hall, the only ones with light in them and cluttered with people.
Jason parks the car but his hands do not leave the steering wheel. His grip tightens and untightens around it as he takes a deep breath and looks towards the back door of the manor. You know well how even though the manor is a home to Jason, in events like this it almost feels like a cage.
“Hey,” you whisper softly while you take his hands into yours. Immediately, Jason’s eyes leave the manor and turn towards you. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m here. And it’ll be quick, we just have to show face for a little while, just like we talked about. And then as fast as we’re in, we’ll be out,” you reassure him while softly rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs.
Jason gulps and nods, trying to will the nerves away, though his hands have stopped flexing and now lay relaxed in your grip ever since you touched them.
“Or we can leave right now. Forget all this. Spend the evening alone, just you and me. Maybe even some Batburger?” you tease with a smile, letting him know that he always has an out with you. Your calming words seem to work as a small chuckle leaves him and he lifts your hands to kiss them once again.
He shakes his head.
You tilt yours. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I just needed a moment. Besides, if I don’t go in I’ll never hear the end of it. Also, if we get this out of the way now, we won’t have to come to another one for a long while. And like you said, it’ll be quick.”
You nod and give his hands an encouraging squeeze. “Exactly. And remember, if you want to leave early, you just tell me.” 
He nods, a lot more sure of himself than just a moment ago. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s go,” you echo.
Jason gets out of the car and you know better than to try and get out yourself, having learned in the very early stages of your relationship that if Jason can help it, you will never have to open a door again. And like always, your door opens and he extends a hand to help you out.
Despite the temperature dropping slightly during the night with the summer reaching its end, it’s a very nice evening. A soft breeze grazes your arms and the cut of your dress but it’s not enough to make you feel cold, mainly due to the warm hand that settles on your lower back. In the sky, the stars that would be impossible to see downtown accompany the moon in illuminating the night.
You two make your way through the gravel path that leads to the back door hand in hand, giving each other courage for the night that awaits ahead.
Once inside, it’s like entering another world entirely. Chatter and glass clinks fill the air and you’re just glad that at least this way your entrance to the party won’t make that much of a fuss as you would have done if you had used the main door.
“I was starting to think that you weren’t going to appear, Master Jason.”
At the sound of the voice both you and Jason stop dead in your tracks near the kitchen, almost like two kids getting caught trying to sneak out instead of sneaking in.
“Alfred!” Jason greets him exaggeratedly, trying to distract from the fact that you two have been caught arriving late. The British man can’t help but mirror Jason’s big smile, even as it breaks his teasing smirk. You smile as you watch them hug and then Alfred turns to you.
“Oh, and you’ve brought Miss Y/N as well! So great to see you again, dear,” he says as he also gives you a quick hug.
“You too, Alfred,” you reply with a smile. “Though it’s just Y/N, please.”
“You know I’m not going to do that, Miss Y/N.” The crinkles of the butler’s smile reminding you that trying to argue with him was a futile attempt.
You had only met him once before but that had been enough to get to know each other quite well and to already care for each other.
You had met him some weeks before, when Jason took you to the manor for the very first time one weekend as a kind of romantic getaway, as it had been left deserted and empty by Alfred and Bruce due to a business/Batman trip and Tim and Damian were away with their respective friends. It was an opportunity like no other.
It had been a wonderful long summery weekend, spent cooking together, lounging in the pool while sharing lazy kisses in the water with your arms and legs wrapped around him, his hands holding you as the sun set behind you, and watching movies in the home theater. You had never felt more at peace or relaxed.
And then, Alfred had come back a couple of days early. You and Jason had been cooking lunch (well, Jason had been cooking while you admired him perched on the counter), when Alfred entered, surprised to see anyone in the manor. After the initial surprise, friendly introductions had been made since from all of the members of his family, Alfred was the only one that Jason wasn’t wary of you meeting.
Jason could only thank whatever was out there that it had been Alfred who had come back early and not Bruce. He wasn’t ready to handle that yet.
Alfred joined you two for lunch and even though you were slightly nervous at the beginning at meeting a member of Jason’s family, you were glad that it was Alfred since he instantly made you feel welcome and at ease. Jason had watched your conversations with a small smile, glad to see and not surprised at all that you got along so well.
After lunch, Alfred left you two be to enjoy the rest of the day as well as the next day since it was your last in the manor. However, he still insisted on making you two breakfast the next day and you got to try Alfred’s famous pancakes. There was no doubt from where Jason had gotten his excellent culinary skills.
You still crossed paths with Alfred a couple more times but they hadn’t been awkward at all. During that short time of seeing you and Jason interact, Alfred saw just how happy you two made and loved each other. He could clearly see the certainty of your relationship and he couldn’t be happier for the young boy that had once been the second Robin. He totally deserved the happiness that you brought him.
And as Alfred insists on calling you Miss Y/N, with the sounds of the party drifting into the kitchen, just like he had done the first time that he met you, the same thought crosses his mind.
That the only way in which he would ever call you something other than that would be when you became Mrs. Todd. Something that he was certain would happen from the very first moment that he saw you laugh with Jason before he had made his presence known that summer afternoon. A truth as plain as the sun.
Now, seeing that the British man isn’t giving up upon your insistence on calling you just by your first name, you sigh defeatedly. “Alright.”
At that, Alfred smiles and turns back to Jason. “Your brothers will be glad to see you’ve been able to make it.”
Jason rolls his eyes. “Sure.”
You smile at his antics and squeeze his hand. The thing was that at each Wayne gala, as it was to be expected, a few members of the family should be present. But considering the fact that all, literally all, the Waynes hated the galas, having Waynes at a gala had long been a recurring problem.
No one still talks about the time that at one of them, not a single Wayne had appeared. The press had had a field day with it and it took the Waynes months to repair the damage.
For a rich family in Gotham that lead a double life as vigilantes, they sure hated the appearances and masks that came with having to entertain the socialites. You have always found the fact extremely entertaining.
And so, in order to avoid the great gala disaster, as Jason had explained to you, they had come up with a system. Taking turns attending the galas and doing so in different groups as they all knew that no one, absolutely no one should have to suffer through a gala alone (except Bruce, who sometimes had to go alone, downsides of being the face of the company).
For example, a group could be Bruce, Dick and Damian (who, lucky for him, has never had to experience the torture of going to one alone, still being a kid and all), or Jason and Dick, but never just Jason and Tim alone, the two always looking to make an escape and neither of them keeping the other in check. However, if they were accompanied by someone else it was manageable. The pairings and different groupings going on and on.
But tonight, however, it was the turn for all four of the batboys to be there, Bruce out on a mission. And so here you were, having offered to accompany your boyfriend when he told you that he had to go to the gala. Jason had said that it wasn’t necessary but you could see the relief in his eyes when you assured him that you wanted to go with him, knowing how hard these things could be sometimes.
Though not liking large crowds either, you were no better. What a pair did you two make. But you knew that together, you could face this night. Now, apart from the overall challenge of enduring the night, came the very real possibility of finally meeting Jason’s brothers. It wasn’t that Jason was trying to keep you away from them or hiding you, they did know about you, it’s just that it was a delicate issue that he wanted to handle at his own time and when he was ready.
You understood that and of course never pushed him on the topic. You knew that if it were for Jason, he would scream that you two were together a hundred times a day, he had no problem holding your hand in public nor kissing you until you felt dizzy in the middle of the street.
Either way, when you two realized that you could meet them, Jason came to the conclusion that it wasn’t so bad. That way they’ll stop pestering him about meeting you and you would do it in a more relaxed ambience than what a formal dinner with all of his family, including Bruce, could be, with all of their eyes fixed on you and asking you millions of questions. At least this way, with the gala, distractions were easy to come by if a quick escape was necessary.
So, if you met them, good. If you didn’t, good as well.
Though still, the nerves persisted.
After exchanging a couple of phrases more with Alfred, he returned to his duties at the party and with your arm looped through Jason’s, you stepped into the space that had been turned into a ballroom of sorts, all of Gotham’s elite there. Either to donate to a Wayne fundraiser (sadly, the least likely of them all), invest in Wayne Enterprises (more likely), drink (very likely), or to snoop around the mysterious Wayne manor and find out more about the peculiar family (the most likely of them all).
You have to say that you're impressed with what has been done with the space. Added chandeliers and carefully placed lamps give the room a golden glow, highlighting all the luxury of the attendees, from expensive watches, to even more expensive necklaces, and making all the glasses of champagne around the room sparkle.
On one side, a bar has been set up, on the other, on a small stage, musicians play for the dancing couples on the dance floor that has been put up in the center. And scattered around the room, high tables where people place their drinks and gather for conversations.
The lack of chairs does not go unnoticed, just a couple every few tables and the stools that surround the bar. The lack no doubt made deliberately, that way, no one would settle for long, either forcing them to mingle and spend some money on the gala or directly leave. The Waynes really do not like to have people in their house. You have to stifle a laugh at the thought, you could relate to that.
Though it makes perfect sense, given that no one wants too many people on the floor above the headquarters for Gotham’s vigilantes for long. You also know that in whatever way they can, they always try to have the galas either at Wayne Tower or at any other place, but sometimes, having one at the manor once in a while was inevitable.
You can’t help but tense up as you notice more and more people start to look towards you two. You don’t even notice that your anxious nature has gotten the better of you and that your grip on Jason’s arm has tightened until his other hand covers yours, the touch immediately grounding and soothing you. You look up at him and take a deep breath as his green eyes look at you encouragingly and gratefully, telling you that you can do this and that he’s thankful that you’re here with him.
You smile before squeezing his arm back and then you two plunge into battle. Showtime.
You make small talk with a few of the guests before approaching the bar to get something to drink. As you wait for your drinks you feel Jason lean down to whisper in your ear.
“I’m going to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be right back. You okay?”
You nod with a smile, telling him that it’s okay before he gives a quick kiss to your temple and then disappears into the crowd.
Your eyes scan the room as you take the refreshment that has been placed in front of you and take a sip, trying not to draw too much attention upon yourself while you wait. You’re no vigilante but as a person that prefers alone time, assessing the room before making any social interaction goes without saying. You’re even thinking of seeking Alfred and asking him if he needs help with anything when your eyes clock Jason again on the other side of the room, cornered by a bunch of socialites.
He has a pleasing smile on his face as he listens to what they’re telling him. To any other person, it might seem like he’s genuinely interested, but you can read him like a book. The corners of his smile are tense, apart from the fact that it doesn't reach his eyes, and his too constant nodding tells you how he is feigning the interest. His eyes find yours for a moment before returning to the lady speaking to him and in that split millisecond you can see how his smile turns real for you, before becoming fake once again.
You leave your glass on the counter of the bar to make your way to him and save him from the people crowding him when suddenly-
“Care for a dance?” a smooth voice says at your side.
You turn to decline when you’re met with eyes of a vibrant shade of blue, a boyish youth and mischief in them, but also slightly hardened with years of experience dealing with the worst of Gotham. His black hair is perfectly styled, a winning and charming smile on his lips and clad in a black suit with a bow tie that highlights all of his features. You can see how he’s a handsome man but still to you, he doesn’t hold a candle to Jason.
Of course you know who he is.
Gotham’s golden boy.
“Dick Grayson.”
“Y/N Y/L/N.” His smile widens and you realize that this is happening whether you want it or not. You’re meeting one of Jason’s brothers. Your eyes flick back to Jason but he’s no longer surrounded by the socialites. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found. He must’ve managed to escape somehow. Looks like you’re going to have to face this alone. You had even been starting to think that this moment wouldn’t come since you hadn’t seen any of Jason’s brothers since you arrived.
You turn back to Dick and he’s still in the exact same position, leaning with one arm on the bar, carefully watching you with a knowing smile. Everything in his demeanor open, easy.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,“ he says, extending his hand.
Your force your body to release the small tension that it has accumulated and with a small smile you shake his hand. “You too.”
“Glad to see that Jason hasn’t made you up. We were starting to doubt that you really existed,” he comments playfully.
You know that he isn’t intimidating you or trying to scare you, merely wanting to meet you, know more about Jason’s life, see the reason why he’s the happiest that they have ever seen him.
“I’m very real, yes.”
“So, how about that dance?”
You pause for a second. “I’m not the best dancer.”
“Come on, please. How am I supposed to get to know my new sister-in-law otherwise?”
“By just talking?”
He chuckles. “Alright, fair enough. How about this, how am I supposed to get to know my sister-in-law without gossiping rich people interrupting us over and over again?” Dick nods to the side and you see how a few of the guests are looking towards you two, no doubt about to walk up to you and force you to establish conversation.
“Lead the way,” you end up saying and Dick’s smile beams even more, his joyous nature and openness making you feel at ease. You feel like he’s trying to make this easy for you, knowing how awkward meeting your boyfriend’s family could be.
He then offers you his arm to guide you to the dance floor and in no time you’re joining all the couples waltzing around it.
“So… Y/N, tell me. What are your intentions with our dear Jaybird?” he jokes in mock seriousness while arching an eyebrow.
“Jaybird?” you ask, never having heard the nickname before but already liking it.
“Oh, Y/N, I have so many anecdotes to tell you. We’re going to have so much fun.”
You smile at the prospect of hearing stories about Jason. “Can’t wait. But to answer your question, my intentions are to just be with him. For as long as he wants me.”
Dick nods, as if you just confirmed something that he already knew. “I feel like that’s going to be a long time.” You feel your cheeks warm at his words. You really hope that it is too. Forever, if you can help it. “Though are you sure that you want to put up with him for so long? He can be insufferable,” he adds, and you chuckle.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Afterwards, he asks you about your job and your family, and you ask him about life in Blüdhaven. You’re glad for his easygoingness, allowing you to feel comfortable and a sense of camaraderie and friendship already between you. You’re also glad that you’re dancing since you’re sure that if you weren’t, conversation wouldn’t have flowed as easily without the privacy that it has given you.
“My turn, Grayson,” a voice suddenly speaks.
You two stop dancing and turn your heads to the side, and then slightly down to find a young boy. His dark combed back hair and his straight posture making him a shadow of his father, his green eyes looking up at you expectantly and his tan skin inherited from his mother. Talia al Ghul.
“No, it isn’t,” Dick replies. 
“Yes, it is,” Damian retorts, holding Dick’s gaze. It’s like they are challenging one another while also having a mental conversation.
Finally, Dick sighs. “Fine. But only if Y/N is okay with that."
“It’s alright,” you say softly.
“See?” Damian insists and Dick rolls his eyes. You smile at their interaction and then Dick turns back to you.
“Thanks for dancing with me, Y/N. It’s been really nice finally getting to talk to you.”
“Likewise.”
Dick squeezes your hands in goodbye before letting go, Damian taking his spot to dance with you. “See you around.” Dick says and you nod and watch as he takes his leave, until a throat clears in front of you and you begin dancing once again.
“You’re Todd’s girlfriend then? Y/L/N?”
“That’s me. You must be Damian. It’s nice to meet you.” Damian nods solemnly before staring intensely at you, as if deciphering you. His movements are graceful and elegant, even more purposeful than Dick’s even. You suppose that all the grace must have something to do with growing up with ninjas and practically being raised like royalty.
Not one to back out, you hold his gaze and stare back at him. He’s shorter than you but you have no doubt that in no time he’ll be taller than you.
“You’re a great dancer, Damian,” you finally say and you can see how something in him changes, no longer putting up the intimidating facade, allowing himself to relax slightly.
“Thanks. Mother taught me.”
“That’s nice. I hope I’m not making you look too much like a fool.”
Damian shrugs. “You’re alright.”
You smile, taking his version of a compliment as a win. Then you take another look around the room, wondering where Jason could be. Maybe Alfred has asked for his help on something. You turn back to Damian, who looks around the space uninterested.
“I’m guessing you don’t like these galas much,” you say, trying to get him to open up a bit more.
“They are… a responsibility.”
“Yeah, well, I’d much rather prefer doing something else. Like going to the aquarium or the museum.” Damian’s eyes shot back to yours like a flash, a small sparkle in them.
Bingo.
You try to contain your triumphant smile. “Have you seen the new art exhibit? Jason told me that you like drawing,” you continue.
And just like that, whatever it was that Damian was wary of disappears as you two make conversation, discussing different painters, Damian’s art and your own hobbies. Then, for a second, Damian pauses in thought, like a jury about to deliver their decision, making you wonder what he’s about to say. 
“You’re cool. Todd was right about you,” he finally says as the current song ends and you two come to a stop.
You smile softly in thanks. “Glad to hear that.”
“Though I’m not yet quite sure what you could be seeing in Todd. You’re clearly way cooler than him.”
That makes you chuckle and you don’t miss how a smile twitches on Damian’s face.
“Thanks, I guess? Though he’s not that bad. Not at all.”
Damian just shrugs at your statement but you have the feeling that behind all the picking, there’s fondness and a brotherly bond between him and Jason.
“Anyway, I have to go feed my animals. It was nice meeting you, Y/N.” Your jaw almost drops, but you manage to avoid it before your lips twist into a wide smile.
Damian’s calling you by your first name. When Jason has told you that he never does that with anyone. Not even Dick.
“You too, Damian.”
He nods in goodbye before going towards the exit of the ballroom. You leave the dance floor and take a deep breath. Well, that wasn’t so bad. It was fun, actually.
You decide that you need some air in order to take all of the recent events in and head towards the open patio door that looks out to the gardens. Even though you can still hear the party, as the door is still open, the change of ambience is very much welcomed. You inhale the fresh air before releasing a content sigh at having a moment for yourself.
You lean on the railing surrounding the few steps that separate you from the grass as you gaze up at the clear sky, the moon illuminating the patio and the late summer evening breeze creating ripples along the surface of the pool. It’s a nice break from the scorching nights that Gotham can have along the summer. You can’t wait for the fall.
As you let yourself relax in the quiet evening, you think back to what has just happened. You just met two of Jason’s brothers. And everything went well. You still can’t believe it. You let out a soft chuckle at the thought that your social skills haven’t failed you this time. Despite usually needing a lot of time with a person to open up and build trust, you’re surprised at how easy it came to you with Dick and Damian, already getting along and having the feeling that you’re going to become good friends. Family, someday.
Maybe it’s due to Dick’s easygoing personality or the things that you have in common with Damian but you feel like it’s more than that. The knowledge that these kind of connections don’t come easy for them either, given all the secrets that they have to keep and the fact that they don’t have to tiptoe around you. The fact that you all love Jason Todd dearly.
You’re just glad that you click with them as well as you did all that time ago with Jason. Who, by the way, is still MIA. It’s been a good while since you saw him. Where could he be?
“Do you want some?” a voice suddenly says, interrupting your thoughts and making you turn towards its source.
Well, looks like the meeting-your-boyfriend’s-family night isn’t over.
Tim Drake stands on the doorway, holding two glasses of champagne. He’s wearing a suit as well but his appearance isn’t as neat as Dick’s or Damian’s. His hair is slightly tousled and his tie is loosened around his neck. His blue eyes, a shade lighter than Dick’s, look kindly at you.
“Sure, thanks,” you say as you take the glass that he offers you. The truth was that you weren’t a big drinker, only having a few sips on scattered special occasions during the year, like champagne on New Year’s Day or the rare instances in which you found yourself in glamorous parties like this.
You take a small sip of the sparkly drink as Tim comes to stand next to you.
“So, what do you think of the gala? Having fun?”
“It’s alright. You all do know how to throw a party,” you answer.
“What can I say? If there’s one thing we’re good at is appearances,” Tim says jokingly.
You nod with a smile while taking another sip, though this time you can’t help the grimace that you make at the growing bitter taste of alcohol in your mouth.
“Not a fan?”
“Not really,” you respond honestly, deciding to leave the glass on the outdoor table for now.
“Me neither, actually.”
And then, your eyes widen when, just like nothing, Tim literally throws the content of his glass, his untouched and what you’re sure of is a very, very, expensive champagne towards the grass and leaves his now empty glass next to yours.
Seriously, what was wrong with rich people?
You shake the thought as you and Tim start making friendly conversation. He’s telling you a story in which Jason faceplanted once during training, when it strikes you that it really is amazing how all the Robins somehow actually physically look like family despite not being blood-related. And it’s not just the coincidence that all of them have clear colored eyes and dark hair, but rather the way in which they hold themselves, something in their stance and attitude giving them a similar aura. An aura of shared hardships and experiences.
“I’m sorry that it took so long for us to meet,” Tim says after a small moment of peaceful silence. You shake your head and you can feel the shift in the air as his expression turns more serious and continues talking before you can say anything.
“I know that we can be a lot, and you haven’t even met all of us.” You tilt your head, listening, waiting to see where he’s going with this. “Things between us and Jason are good, though of course, like with any family, there are some rough patches.” He pauses for a second, leaning with his hip on the metal railing while crossing his arms. “We really wanted to meet you and we feared that something that we hadn’t realized had been going on with Jason and that he was retreating again by refusing to introduce you to us.”
You shake your head again. “It’s not that at all, Tim, I promise. Things are good. He just gets doubtful sometimes and needs to take things at his own time.”
Tim nods, letting you know that he understands. “I’m just sorry that we boarded you like this, we thought it might be easier taking the pressure out of it. Instead of having a formal family dinner or something, just meet you today in case that Jason decided to bring you. All in all, I’m glad we did, we probably wouldn’t have met you for a lot longer, probably until it was strictly necessary, if we hadn’t intervened.”
You’re processing all the information when before you can reply, you finally hear Jason’s voice again.
“Y/N!” he calls as he approaches you after spotting you outside. “I’m so, so sorry for leaving you alone. I was ambushed by the guests before going to the bathroom, then Alfred asked me to go help him with something in the kitchen and then Dick couldn’t fucking wait to ask me something about a case. It was just one thing after the other, I’m so sorry,” he rambles, a hand running through his hair in distress, knowing how you hate this kind of events as much as him.
Just as he finishes his rant, he finally reaches you and as he takes your hands in his, you can visibly see how his distressed state morphs into a relieved one just by being next to you. It’s like during your unexpected time apart Jason had been underwater the whole time and has just been finally allowed to come up for air to the surface and fill his lungs just by seeing you and being near you again.
You just shake your head and gently bring a hand to the nape of his neck to press your foreheads together so that he can ground himself and focus on you, showing him that you’re okay. You just know he’s feeling guilty for leaving you on your own when you two promised to be together to face the night.
“It’s okay,” you say softly in a low voice, trying to calm him.
And then, after connecting the dots between what Tim and Jason have just said, everything clicks. It’s not a coincidence that you’ve met Jason’s brothers one right after the other and that Jason just so conveniently had been missing from your side to prevent that from happening. You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips upon realizing what has happened, finding the Waynes’ antics and dramaticness quite entertaining.
“And don’t worry, I had company,” you add.
And just as you say that, you can see how Jason feels movement to his right and turns his head like a hawk to find Tim shifting on his feet. Jason hadn’t seen him earlier since you were the only one visible through the open door and once outside, Tim’s side of the terrace was covered in shadows.
You see the exact moment in which Jason’s gaze hardens staring at Tim, realizing just exactly what had actually happened, all of his family plotting to distract him so that they could meet you. You know that Jason isn’t actually angry, just slightly annoyed from the ruse and from being kept away from you, and now he’s channeling all of that towards Tim, making it seem bigger than what it actually is.
“Tim…” Jason says through gritted teeth in a threatening tone as he separates himself from you and starts stomping towards Tim. It’s almost comically funny how Tim immediately scrambles and bolts to the other side of the terrace, putting the outdoor table between him and Jason, extending his arms in front of him to protect himself as if he was some defenseless animal and not a well-trained vigilante.
You almost have to stifle a laugh.
Sibling dynamics at its finest.
“Listen, Jason, I-” Tim starts to plead his case but before Jason gets too far away from you, you grab his hand again. And it’s incredible the way in which Jason turns towards you and immediately his posture softens. Tim doesn’t waste the opportunity and escapes into the gala again, leaving you and Jason alone.
“It’s alright, they just wanted to meet me,” you say and Jason sighs, deciding to let the matter go and just come back to your arms, his hands on your waist, giving a small subconscious squeeze.
“Yes, but they had no right to play with us,” he answers, pressing your foreheads together once again.
“I know. But, hey,” you lift your hand to push some hair away from his forehead, “nothing bad happened. I’m still here.”
Jason nods and his gaze softens before closing his eyes, relishing in your touch. You close your eyes as well and you two stay in your embrace for a moment. Letting the night envelop you, surrounding yourselves with the evening sounds of the faded chatter from the party, the breeze rustling the bushes, the water in the pool, the night time insects and an owl in the distance.
“I think it’s time for us to leave,” Jason finally says, looking at you once again, having had enough of the social night.
“Yes,” you wholeheartedly agree, wanting to have your boyfriend all for yourself.
With that said, Jason nods, kisses your forehead and takes your hand firmly in his in order to not lose you again and you two make your way out of the gala. You don’t even bother to say goodbye to anybody. As you two leave, on the side of the ballroom, Dick, Tim, Damian and Alfred all stand in line, watching you fondly, glad to finally have met you and seen how happy Jason is with you. Before disappearing from view you give them a small wave and they smile.
You still have to meet Bruce, but that’s a problem for another day.
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When you finally get home and Jason closes the door behind you, the two of you having already decided that he would spend the night at your apartment, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. Finally home. You take a deep breath, shedding your social armor. Jason feels relief too at having finally left the manor, because even though the place will always be a home to him, the very definition of the word changed when he met you.
Jason watches you mesmerized as you leave your purse on a table and then move to the kitchen to drink a cold glass of water. He stands idly in your living room following your every move, a cast spell on him.
You’re beautiful.
Even though your hair isn’t as perfectly done as it was at the beginning of the evening and there’s a tired drag to your feet, you are. You always are.
He still can’t believe that you’re with him.
The way that you move around him as comfortably as you’d do if you were alone amazes him. It amazes him that you feel safe enough with him to just be yourself, not putting on any mask like you did in the gala with the attendees. He’s just so immensely grateful that you let him see you like this, open and being so undoubtedly yourself.
You’re saying something about cooking something quick or maybe ordering takeout when you brace yourself with a hand on the back of a chair to take off your heels with the other. But before you can take off your shoe, Jason softly grabs your hand, stopping you mid-rant.
He pulls you to follow him and you don’t put any kind of resistance, letting a comfortable silence fall upon you two. The only sounds the passing cars on the street and the steps of your heels on the floor. Once you reach the couch Jason makes you sit on it and you watch as he kneels in front of you and then, with a care and gentleness that no one would expect from the man known as Red Hood, he begins to undo the straps of your heels.
And there’s just something in the sight in front of you that makes your heart flip in your chest. How someone as big as him gets down on his knees before you, for once him being the one looking up at you instead of the other way around, almost as if worshiping the ground you walk on, as if you were the one that brought him back to life and not some mystical pit.
Now it’s you the one that watches him enchanted, wondering how you were so lucky as to have him love you. He takes one of your heels off, his eyes never leaving yours for a second, and then gives your free foot a slight massage to help the soreness out of it and you sigh in relief.
How is he even real?
And then, just before slipping the other heel off, with one of his warm hands on your lower calf, you watch with your heart in your throat how he kisses the inside of your knee.
You let out a small gasp and it’s crazy how much your heart is racing because you just know that he did it just for the heck of it, an act so loving, so simple, with no major intention rather than the selfish feeling of wanting to feel your skin against his lips.
But what raises goosebumps all throughout your body is not the action in itself, but rather the dark sparkle that crosses his eyes upon hearing your gasp, promising you something for later, for when he’s drawing shapes all across your body, as if tracing a map signaling a treasure. Except that the map itself is the treasure and he’s just taking his time exploring it, enjoying it, admiring it, worshiping it.
Jason then finally takes off your other heel and gives your foot the same quick massage treatment as the other one. When he’s done he gets back up on his feet and offers you a hand.
You take it and he pulls you to your feet again. And then, in the same silent comfort that has settled over you, with the same care and gentleness that Jason has treated you with, you slowly undo his tie, your gaze still fixed on his, saying a million different things that do not need to be said out loud. Most of them having to do with how much you love him.
After you discard the tie somewhere on the couch, you undo the first couple of buttons of his shirt, releasing him from the uptightness that comes with them and you feel his muscles relax even further under your hands. Next, you slip his jacket from his shoulders and he helps you take it off of him while he looks at you with the same intensity that you regard him with, reveling in how you take care of him.
Then, Jason rolls his sleeves up a bit his forearms before taking one of your hands in his and then, with his other arm around your waist, pulls you flush against his chest, practically fusing you two together, as if he could never pull you close enough, needing you as physically closer as possible, just as much as he needed oxygen, if not more.
“We didn’t have a chance to dance,” he whispers then with your faces inches from each other, still not disturbing the peaceful silence.
You hum in agreement and before you know it, you’re already swaying softly together in the living room, both of you with your eyes closed, your head resting on the crook of his neck and his on your hair. There’s no music but it doesn’t need to be, you feel so at peace and content, none of the opulent galas in the world could compare to a quiet evening with Jason.
You have no idea how much time you’ve spent there, barefoot and wrapped in Jason’s arms, swaying to the sounds of Gotham’s nightlife and your own heartbeats, only knowing that you would gladly spend forever like this.
“Thank you.”
You lift your head to find that Jason’s already looking at you.
“For what?” you ask in the same soft tone as him, a lilt of confusion in your voice.
“For coming today.” Before you can respond he keeps talking. “For sticking around. For putting up with my family.” A pause. His eyes leave yours to look to the side. He shrugs. “Just… for being with me, I guess.”
Your gaze softens and you feel a pang in your chest as you see Jason’s insecurities eating away at him. You stop your swaying and bring your hands to Jason’s face to make him focus on you, his hands moving instinctively to hold your waist. But Jason’s still avoiding your gaze and you hate the doubt that you see creeping in your favorite shade of green.
“I’m always going to be here. I’m right where I want to be. I love you. And I’m not putting up with anything, I want you. I want to be part of all the parts in your life,” you say, softly caressing his cheek with your thumb, having the suspicion that these doubts have something to do with meeting his brothers tonight.
“I know. I just…” Jason takes a deep breath closing his eyes, taking a moment to organize his thoughts before looking at you again. “I just can’t believe that you’re still here. I have this… this feeling that one way or another I’m going to screw up and lose you.”
You open your mouth to refute him but Jason shakes his head, presses his forehead to yours, closes his eyes to concentrate on what he wants to say, and continues before you can say anything. “And I know, trust me, I know that you love me and that you’re not going to leave. You show me every single day. I was just afraid that if neither myself nor me being Red Hood hadn’t driven you away, my family surely would.”
When Jason finishes he doesn’t move, his forehead still against yours and his eyes still closed, as if he doesn’t want to face what may come next, and his hands on your waist in the same position, if anything, holding onto you even tighter.
Holding onto you as if it were the last time, as if his confession would finally be the thing that would drive you away. You close your eyes as well for a second and take a deep breath.
How can you even begin to express how much you love this man?
Your heart is bursting with how much you feel for him. The love that you hold for him begins in the depth of it and as your heart pumps blood through your body, it also pumps that love through every single vein, nerve and cell in it. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It’s something that lies beneath every single movement and action that you make, to the point where you’re not sure if what sustains you are your bones or your love for him.
And that love of course, is interlaced with the pain that comes from watching the one you love hurt. You know that Jason is telling you the truth, that he knows that you’re not going anywhere and that you love him. But there’s this underlying fear in him, an instinct acquired from having lost all the good things in his life, things that he loved, from both his mothers to wearing the Robin mantle, that makes him subconsciously always expect the worst.
That’s why he prolonged you meeting his family for so long.
Without knowing, he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the moment in which the rug will be pulled from under him and he’ll fall into the void. He survived all the previous things, more or less, but he isn’t sure that he would if you were to leave his life.
Because now everything, every single piece of him is rooted in you, like the earth orbiting the sun, the very thing that allows life on the planet in the first place. And that’s what you are to him, a source of warmth, comfort and life. And he’s sure that if he didn’t have that he would crumble. He might technically survive it but he wouldn’t be the same.
But the thing is that just as much as he's rooted in you, you’re rooted to him. He’s the anchor to your boat lost in a storm, the earth to your forever spinning moon. He’s your anchor, your earth, your sun, your everything.
You know that the doubts and insecurities aren’t going to disappear overnight but maybe, together, you two can make them lessen.
“Jason. Look at me,” you say when you open your eyes once again, pulling back slightly so that you can look him square in the eyes. Jason sighs, not wanting the quiet moment, the infinite second in which he can just be in your embrace and forget everything else to end. But then he slowly opens his eyes, showing you his troubled thoughts.
“I love you. So much that I can feel it in every single part of my body. It’s like you’re part of my DNA. And nothing, absolutely nothing, can make me want to leave you. And you’re not going to screw up anything. Call me selfish but I want to be near the things that make me feel strong, like I can achieve anything I want. The things that comfort me when I need it most, that are always there for me, even when I’m not at my best and I feel like a burden.”
Now Jason is the one that shakes his head and wants to refute you but you move your thumb from his cheek to his lips to shush him. “The things that make me feel loved. And you’re the only thing that makes me feel all of that. God knows I have my baggage too and it still amazes me that you understand me, that you want to carry it with me, that you’re proud to do so.”
You take a deep breath. “So no, I’m not leaving. Ever. I’m always going to be here. And I’m very glad that I met Dick, Tim and Damian tonight. They’re nice and they have allowed me to see more of you. And if there's something that I can’t get enough of is you. Okay?”
Jason nods as he leans into the touch of your hand, his eyes bright with love and admiration for you. And then he closes the small distance between you and kisses you, gripping your waist tightly, one hand coming up to hold your face and deepen the kiss. Your hands drop to his shoulders and you don’t waste a single second to kiss him back as fervently as he does. He hasn’t answered to your reassuring words but you don’t need him to. He’s telling you everything you need to know in that kiss.
When his lips first came in contact with yours, he said, Okay.
Where his hands are grabbing your body so tightly but oh so gently, he’s saying, You’re what I treasure most in this world.
And as you stand there in the middle of the living room, being kissed like nothing else exists except you two in this very moment, he’s saying, I love you.
You could have been like that just a couple of minutes or a couple of centuries for all you know, always forgetting the outside world when he kisses you. And when you finally part to catch your breaths, foreheads against each other, your hand softly caressing the hair at the back of his head, the shine in his eyes tells you everything that his lips have just said and more.
Still, he wants to make sure that you’re aware that he isn’t going to let his thoughts eat away at him and so he finally whispers, “Okay.”
“Good,” you whisper back, your hand finding his cheek and caressing it once again. And then you find his lips again, because if there’s one thing that you could spend doing forever without ever growing tired of is kissing him.
And without speaking, your lips tell him something too. Something that he feels as certain as the sun, the moon and the stars. 
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐈 [𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐃. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]
❀ summary: You’ve fallen hard for Alcina Dimitrescu, the alluring CEO of a rival company—completely unaware of her plan to use you to gather information on your father’s business. What began as manipulation slowly turned into love, but when the truth comes out, will Alcina be able to win you back, or is it already too late?
❥ here's part 2, not proofread as always and idunno about this one but enjoy darlings<3 bye<3
❥ part one
The weeks after your discovery of Alcina’s betrayal had been a blur of anger and heartbreak. You’d thrown yourself into your work, your life—anything to keep from thinking about her. But no matter how hard you tried, thoughts of her lingered in the back of your mind. You could still feel her touch, hear her voice in your quiet moments, see her haunted expression when you left that night.
It didn’t help that you’d avoided all the usual places she might frequent, keeping yourself carefully away from any events or venues where you might run into her. Tonight, though, you didn’t have a choice. The charity gala your father was hosting was a major event in your family’s circle—there was no skipping it, no matter how much you wished to.
You took a deep breath as you stepped into the grand ballroom, the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses filling the air. The chandelier lights cast a warm glow over the room, making everything seem almost dreamlike. You smoothed down your dress and tried to focus on anything other than the possibility of seeing her.
But you didn’t have to wait long.
From across the room, you felt it—the weight of her gaze. Alcina Dimitrescu, standing tall and imposing, dressed in an elegant black gown that clung to her every curve. Her eyes were locked on you, and you could feel it in the pit of your stomach, that familiar pull you’d fought so hard to forget.
You tried to ignore it, tried to lose yourself in polite conversation with some of your father’s colleagues, but Alcina’s presence was undeniable. Every time you glanced her way, she was already watching you, her expression a mix of longing and regret.
Eventually, it became too much. The air in the room felt too thick, too stifling, and you excused yourself, making a beeline for the bathroom to catch your breath.
Once inside, you leaned against the sink, gripping the counter tightly as you tried to steady your racing heart. You hadn’t spoken to her since that night. You hadn’t given her a chance to explain herself, to make amends, because you weren’t sure you wanted to hear what she had to say.
The door creaked open behind you, and before you could even turn, you felt her presence—the soft click of her heels against the marble floor, the way the air shifted as she came closer. You stared at your reflection, seeing her towering figure behind you, her golden eyes locked onto yours in the mirror.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice soft, desperate. “Just hear me out.”
Your heart raced, but you didn’t move, didn’t turn to face her. “Alcina, I don’t want to do this.”
But instead of speaking, she closed the distance between you in an instant, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. Her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid you’d pull away. You stiffened at first, your breath catching in your throat, but she didn’t let go.
Her head lowered until her lips were near your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve to ask for forgiveness, but I can’t let you go without trying.”
You stared at your reflection, feeling the heat of her body pressed against yours, the way her arms held you so tightly. You’d dreamed of this moment for weeks—of seeing her again, of feeling her close to you. But not like this. Not with so much pain between you.
“You used me, Alcina,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You lied to me.”
“I know,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “I know I did. But what I feel for you now... it’s real. It was never supposed to happen. I was never supposed to fall in love with you, but I did. And I hate myself for hurting you like this.”
Her arms tightened around you as if she feared you might slip away, her cheek resting against your hair. “I’ve never felt this way before, not with anyone. I’ve never let anyone in like I did with you, and I ruined it. I ruined us.”
You felt a lump forming in your throat, tears burning behind your eyes. Part of you wanted to push her away, to tell her that you didn’t care anymore, that it was too late. But the way she held you, the way her voice shook with sincerity—it was hard to ignore.
“I thought I meant something to you,” you whispered, the hurt clear in your voice. “But it was all just a game.”
Alcina shook her head against you, her grip on you unwavering. “It started that way, but it changed. You changed me. Please, believe me. I never wanted to hurt you like this.”
You were silent for a moment, your mind torn between the betrayal and the love that still lingered in your heart. Her arms around you felt safe, familiar, but the weight of what she’d done was still too heavy to ignore.
“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.
Alcina let out a shaky breath, her lips brushing the top of your head. “I understand. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn your trust back, if you’ll let me.”
You closed your eyes, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks as you leaned back into her. It was all too much—the anger, the longing, the love you still felt for her despite everything.
“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice breaking.
Alcina’s arms tightened around you, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself sink into the feeling of being held by her. “Then just let me hold you,” she whispered back. “For now, that’s all I ask.”
You stood there in the quiet of the bathroom, wrapped in her arms, the weight of the past hanging between you. There was so much still unsaid, so many wounds left to heal. But for now, in this moment, you let her hold you, let her be close again, and for a fleeting second, it felt like maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.
In the weeks following your discovery of Alcina's betrayal, it felt like you were drowning in a sea of conflicting emotions. Anger, heartbreak, and confusion fought for dominance, while you buried yourself in work to keep from thinking about her. Yet no matter how hard you tried, memories of her touch, her voice, and her regretful expression from that night haunted you.
You did everything to avoid her, even going so far as to skip any social functions or venues she might frequent. But that didn’t stop her from trying to contact you. At first, it was the flowers—extravagant bouquets delivered to your home. Each came with a handwritten note from Alcina, her usually elegant script slightly smudged, as if written in haste or distress.
“I’m sorry. Please let me explain.”
“You mean everything to me. Please talk to me.”
“I was wrong. Let me make it right.”
You tossed every note aside without reading more than the first few words, each one feeling like a punch to the gut. As the days went by, her attempts grew more persistent. She sent letters, each one more heartfelt than the last, pleading for a chance to talk, to make things right. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. It hurt too much.
Then came the late-night phone calls. You would let it ring, staring at her name lighting up your screen, debating whether or not to answer. But you never did. Eventually, the calls stopped, leaving only an aching silence behind.
And tonight, at your father’s charity gala, it seemed fate had a cruel sense of timing. You didn’t have a choice but to attend, despite knowing there was a high chance Alcina would be there. The grand ballroom buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses blending with soft music. You were surrounded by people, yet you felt utterly alone.
You’d barely stepped into the room when you felt her presence before you even saw her. Across the sea of well-dressed guests, Alcina stood out like a dark flame in her black gown. Her tall, commanding figure drew eyes, but it was her unwavering gaze locked onto you that made your stomach twist.
Despite the distance, her emotions were clear. Longing, regret, desperation. The sight of her stirred something in you, a mix of pain and desire you had tried so hard to bury. But you refused to let her get to you. Not here. Not now.
Throughout the night, you tried to lose yourself in conversations, mingling with people you barely knew or cared about. But Alcina’s gaze followed you, her presence looming even from across the room. Several times, you caught her trying to approach, weaving through the crowd toward you, only to be intercepted by someone who wanted her attention—business partners, acquaintances, socialites. You could see her growing more frustrated with each interruption.
And yet, part of you was relieved every time someone blocked her path. You weren’t ready to face her. Not yet.
But Alcina was nothing if not persistent.
The night wore on, and just as you thought you might escape without confrontation, she managed to close the distance. You were slipping away to the restroom for a moment of quiet when you felt her presence behind you. The door clicked shut softly, and you turned to see her standing there, looking as regal and vulnerable as ever.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice soft, desperate. “Just hear me out.”
Your heart raced, but you didn’t move, didn’t turn to face her. “Alcina, I don’t want to do this.”
But instead of speaking, she closed the distance between you in an instant, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. Her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid you’d pull away. You stiffened at first, your breath catching in your throat, but she didn’t let go.
Her head lowered until her lips were near your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve to ask for forgiveness, but I can’t let you go without trying.”
You stared at your reflection, feeling the heat of her body pressed against yours, the way her arms held you so tightly. You’d dreamed of this moment for weeks—of seeing her again, of feeling her close to you. But not like this. Not with so much pain between you.
“You used me, Alcina,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You lied to me.”
“I know,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “I know I did. But what I feel for you now... it’s real. It was never supposed to happen. I was never supposed to fall in love with you, but I did. And I hate myself for hurting you like this.”
Her arms tightened around you as if she feared you might slip away, her cheek resting against your hair. “I’ve never felt this way before, not with anyone. I’ve never let anyone in like I did with you, and I ruined it. I ruined us.”
You felt a lump forming in your throat, tears burning behind your eyes. Part of you wanted to push her away, to tell her that you didn’t care anymore, that it was too late. But the way she held you, the way her voice shook with sincerity—it was hard to ignore.
“I thought I meant something to you,” you whispered, the hurt clear in your voice. “But it was all just a game.”
Alcina shook her head against you, her grip on you unwavering. “It started that way, but it changed. You changed me. Please, believe me. I never wanted to hurt you like this.”
You were silent for a moment, your mind torn between the betrayal and the love that still lingered in your heart. Her arms around you felt safe, familiar, but the weight of what she’d done was still too heavy to ignore.
“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.
Alcina let out a shaky breath, her lips brushing the top of your head. “I understand. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn your trust back, if you’ll let me.”
You closed your eyes, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks as you leaned back into her. It was all too much—the anger, the longing, the love you still felt for her despite everything.
“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice breaking.
Alcina’s arms tightened around you, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself sink into the feeling of being held by her. “Then just let me hold you,” she whispered back. “For now, that’s all I ask.”
You stood there in the quiet of the bathroom, wrapped in her arms, the weight of the past hanging between you. There was so much still unsaid, so many wounds left to heal. But for now, in this moment, you let her hold you, let her be close again, and for a fleeting second, it felt like maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.
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❥ definitely not obsessed with Alcina begging to take her back- oop who said that?🤨👀
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jsmelodies · 2 days
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Cassian thought it was supposed to be simple. 
Find the witch in the woods.
Convince said witch to give him Ataraxia.
Rescue the princess from the dragon guarding her tower, with said sword, from said witch.
If only the damned witch stopped getting in his way.
Written for @nessianweek Day 5: Behind Closed Doors
Because nothing says behind closed doors like getting to know a witch in the middle of the woods with no one around.
Read here on ao3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Cassian had a long time to think on the ride back to the palace. Once he cleared the thicket of the forest, he urged Ruby to go faster, settling into an easy canter for the remainder of the journey.
The sun was just beginning to hit the tips of the castle spires when he made it to the city streets. The children paused in their playing in the streets to watch him ride through the gates.
Ruby let out a snort as he slowed them down to a walk, and he flashed his typical easygoing grin to the children. For the first time, though, that smile felt ingenuine. 
Women gave him shy smiles as he rode by, nothing like the stern look of that witch in the forest. He hadn’t even gotten her name.
You want me to find you worthy? I don’t.
Was all of this just a lie? All of the years hoping he could be something better—something greater. What if he’d just deluded himself? What if he wasn’t worthy at all?
No one paid him any mind as he rode in. He wasn’t beat up like Kallon was, so there was nothing interesting to see. Cassian approached, sliding off of Ruby with one smooth movement.
Rhys and Azriel were already done for the day, placing their dulled practice blades back on the rack and leaning against the stone of the palace wall.
“I take it you didn’t have much luck,” Az said, noticing his frustration, and the lack of a princess on his arm.
Cassian considered not telling them the truth. He considered saying that he searched the woods all day without a single trace. But, he sighed and said, “I found her.”
Rhys frowned. “What happened? Can you remember?” he asked.
“Yeah, I remember everything. I messed up and insulted her. She struck a nerve, so I…”
Azriel watched him with an arched eyebrow. “You what?”
Cassian winced, knowing how what he was about to say would sound. “I may have implied that she didn’t have a soul.” 
Azriel let out a long, long breath. “Yeah. Alright, so you fucked up pretty badly.”
Cassian slid his gaze to Rhys, who had a singular eyebrow lifted.
“How important is this to you?” Rhys asked, his voice contemplative.
“I need to make it right.”
“Yeah, if there’s any chance of you getting that sword-”
“No,” Cassian said, cutting him off. “Regardless of that. I need to make it right.”
An honorable man wouldn’t have said what he did. And if by some chance he did, then that man would apologize. Rhys’ mother ingrained that lesson into him when he was just a boy.
He hadn’t meant what he said. It was all spoken out of anger, but it wasn’t okay. 
Cassian knew what he had to do.
***
He set out again the next morning. The witch wouldn’t try to kill him, he didn’t think. At least, not after he apologized. And he would apologize.
The ride through the forest was short, and his heart beat quickly in his chest for the entirety. 
He remembered the route back to her cottage with perfect clarity. She must not have spelled him, or whatever it was she did to Kallon, because he was able to follow the same path to her cottage, that thread pulling him along faintly.
It was almost like she was waiting to see what he would do.
He took a deep breath as he reached the edge of the line of trees, attempting to clear his head before he faced her again.
His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. He could do this.
“I’ve asked you to leave. I won’t do it again.”
Cassian was dragged out of his daze by the words, and he opened his mouth, prepared to defend his presence, when he realized they weren’t directed at him at all.
Another man stood in the clearing, hulking and in full metal armor, like he expected a fight. Unfortunately, Cassian recognized that armor. Tomas Mandray. He stood with his sword raised, ready to attack.
The witch was in her doorway, clad in the cloak from yesterday, gripping it firmly around her body. As if that cloak was her own form of armor.
The woman didn’t deserve this. It didn’t matter what Cassian’s opinions were, or anyone else’s for that matter. She deserved to exist without fear of being harmed or killed.
As a knight to the kingdom, he would ensure she could.
“Tomas. That’s enough,” Cassian said, making the last few steps into the clearing.
“What are you doing here?” Tomas asked, sneering. 
They’d never gotten along, only ever exchanging stiff pleasantries before both going on their way. He had a feeling this conversation would not even come close to being that.
“The same as you, I imagine,” Cassian said, getting off his horse. “I’m here for the sword.”
A lie. Well, partly. 
“Then you understand the witch needs to die,” Tomas said. “They’re a blight on our kingdom, and need to be killed.”
The look on Tomas’ face, however, implied that wasn’t where his intentions ended. Cassian felt the rage bubbling under his skin, that if he hadn’t shown up, the witch might have been forced to deal with that.
“You don’t need to kill her,” Cassian said. “She’s just minding her own business. Leave her be.”
“Whatever,” Tomas said, turning away from Cassian, raising his sword once more.
The witch retreated back inside a step, but it was enough for Cassian to see that she was well and truly terrified.
Before he knew it, he’d moved and his sword was at Tomas’ throat. He would kill him, one of his fellow knights, if it came down to it.
“I won’t say it again,” Cassian said with a low voice. “Leave her alone. Take one more step towards that door, Tomas, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.”
The other knight’s eyes narrowed. “Whose fucking side are you on?”
“There are no sides. I just have basic human decency.”
It turned out his intervention was unnecessary, however, because the next moment Bryaxis had jumped in between Tomas and Cassian, hissing up a storm.
Tomas took a single step back, raising an amused eyebrow. “What’s her stupid cat going to do?” he muttered to himself, aiming to kick him aside with his foot.
Somehow, Cassian knew before it happened that it had been the wrong thing to say. Bryaxis shifted into a snarling beast with long, sharp claws that curled into the ground. In a moment, his teeth were as long as Cassian’s forearm and he stalked towards Tomas, black fur bristling on his neck and back.
Bryaxis stood almost three times taller than the man, and he looked ready to tear Tomas’ head clean off of his body.
“Oh, fuck,” Tomas said.
He held his sword out with shaking hands, prepared to fight. At least, until Bryaxis roared in his face.
Then the coward ran. He dashed back towards his horse tied to the edge of the clearing, Bryaxis snapping at his heels for the first few steps.
His horse’s eyes were milky white with fear, and she reared, yanking Tomas so hard that Cassian thought his arm might be pulled out of his socket.
Tomas yanked the horse back down. “You stupid beast!” he seethed, climbing up onto her back and digging his heels into her side until she uneasily started running through the trees.
Cassian would have let out a sigh of relief, if getting rid of Tomas was the only challenge he faced. But Bryaxis turned, still in his beast form, and eyed Cassian and the sword still at attention in his hand.
Don’t mind Bryaxis. He doesn’t bite, unless you do first.
Praying that the witch had told him the truth yesterday, he dropped it, raising his arms placatingly. “I, uh, I don’t want a fight,” he said. 
Bryaxis prowled closer, his breath smelling like a rotten carcass. When was the last time the woman cleaned his teeth? Did he even allow her to clean his teeth? 
Bryaxis huffed in Cassian’s face, and heat prickled at his ears. But then Bryaxis stepped back and sat back on his haunches, letting out a small groan. Within a few seconds he shifted back into a cat, weaving through Cassian’s legs and purring once more.
It didn’t set him at ease. His heart still hammered in his chest. Now he knew what had left Kallon in such a state only a few days ago.
It was safe to say that he had no intention of getting on Bryaxis’ bad side anytime soon.
“So,” he said. “Not a cat.”
The witch hummed anxiously, her eyes on the treeline. He took a deep breath as his heart settled, then he dared to approach her in the doorway.
“Will he remember?” Cassian asked, as she watched Tomas disappear.
“No,” she said, her voice distant. “He’ll forget almost everything as soon as he’s about a mile out.”
“Bryaxis took a long time to step in,” he commented. It was a question, of sorts, of why the witch had the cat wait.
She merely sighed. “I knew him once. I wanted to see if he’d changed. Apparently, he hasn’t.”
If it was even possible, Cassian hated Tomas even more—for crimes that he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d committed yet. Something about this woman had him coming to her defense, even though he was the last person who should.
He’d insulted her, and she probably wanted nothing to do with him. Even still, he wasn’t going to leave her with the likes of Tomas, Bryaxis or no.
She was rattled, that much was clear. As much as the rest of her was an unrelenting fortress, it was her eyes that gave her away—wide as they continued to watch the spot that Tomas disappeared through, not an ounce of silver anger to be found.
He needed to get her mind off it, off him.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he said softly, laying a hand on her wrist. “Let’s go inside. He’s not coming back.”
It was instant, the way everything shifted. That nervousness shifted to indignation. Fear to bitterness. 
Cassian loved storms. As a boy he’d stay up listening to them rattling the windows, streaks of lightning spreading across the sky. Something about them soothed him while scaring others, and he felt safe listening to the long rolls of thunder.
And she was one, staring him down with pure electricity. She could strike him down with one single blow if she wanted.
Silver returned. There she was.
“I don’t recall extending you an invitation.” Yesterday, her words hadn’t been so distant. Short and snarky, yes, but there had been an undertone of sly amusement before he’d well and truly messed everything up. “I thought I told you to leave yesterday.”
“You did.” 
“Then why are you here?” she asked.
Cassian still didn’t know exactly what he’d say once he got here, and convinced her to listen to him. But he needed to say something.
He thought back to Tomas leaving, and the comment she made when he did.
“You said you wanted to see if Tomas had changed,” Cassian began. “So? Do you think a man can change?”
“What are you getting at, Sir Cassian?”
“It’s just Cassian.”
She let out a small huff, and asked again, “What do you want, Cassian?”
“I came to apologize,” he said. He could feel her watching, studying him with those pale blue eyes that he wanted more than a mere glimpse of. “How I spoke to you was out of line, and I’m ashamed of it. I’m sorry.”
“Anything else?” she asked. “You came all the way out here just to apologize?”
“Nothing else,” he said. “I am truly sorry.”
Her lips set into a line as she thought. The seconds ticked by, and he had the suspicion that she would tell him to leave again. Would once again call him unworthy.
But then, she did the last thing he expected. The set of her shoulders relaxed, and she gave him the tiniest dip of her chin in acceptance.
“I respect a man who can admit his mistakes.” 
She took in a breath, as if she were considering saying something else, but then she let it go. “Come inside. You’re helping me today.”
And that was that. Cassian spent the rest of the morning doing as the witch instructed, chopping and scraping and grounding until his hands were sore. He found that he didn’t mind, that it was nice to put his sword down for a little while. 
While they were cleaning up, Cassian couldn’t help but wonder. He asked the question before he could think better of it.
“What does this matter to you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why do you care who the princess marries?”
“You’re moving into dangerous territory,” she said. “Remember what happened yesterday?”
“Answer it anyway,” he said, “You know her, don’t you?”
“This is how you wish to win me over?”
“Not really, I was just curious.”
For a while, he didn’t think she’d answer. 
She handed him some mushrooms from the other side of the clearing, asking if he knew how to cook. He sighed and brought down a pan from the rack he ran into the day before, assuming the conversation was over.
The mushrooms and a few other vegetables spit and popped in the iron pan, and the witch was happy to watch as he cooked for both of them.
While his back was turned, she said, “I do know her. We grew up together.”
That hadn’t been what he was expecting her to say. He didn’t know why he imagined her growing up solely in these woods, outcast from society. Ignorance, maybe.
“You grew up in the castle?”
“You could say that.”
The answer roused a much longer list of questions, ones he didn’t think she’d be willing to answer.
Who are you, that you know the princess so closely? Why distance yourself out here? Just…why?
“Who are you?” he asked. He moved the now finished vegetables to the side, approaching her at the table. 
“No one you would know,” she said.
She loved to evade his questions, he realized. Or, possibly, there was something about opening up to him that absolutely terrified her.
“Can I look at your face?” he asked.
She didn’t seem to like the idea of that, letting out a huff and leaning back in her chair. “I think you’ve seen enough, haven’t you?”
“I don’t think I have,” he said. 
She didn’t make a sound. 
“If you’re no one that I know, it shouldn’t matter, right?”
She didn’t outright deny him. Instead, she seemed to ponder over what he said, and she stood and took hesitant steps forward until she was right in front of him.
“You can’t tell any of the others what you see,” she insisted.
He felt it in the air, how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. He’d make sure he never gave her a reason to regret it.
“I won’t. I swear it, on my honor.”
She inhaled sharply, then gave him the slightest nod in permission.
He took the edges of her hood in his hands. Even before he brought it down, he could almost see what was underneath. But when it was down fully…
He couldn’t say a word. Not when the angles of her face were so striking, when her beauty was so absolutely devastating that Cassian thought he might crumble.
Just as he suspected, perfect, golden brown hair framed her face, and her eyes were the most enchanting shade of blue-gray. She was young, perhaps a year or two less than his twenty four. And as embarrassing as it was to admit, Cassian had a purely male reaction.
He simply couldn’t speak, unless the word was one syllable and absolutely meaningless. So he didn’t.
This woman would be his undoing. He couldn’t come back again, because who knew what strings they would pull if he did. Whose bed they might end up in, what bridges they couldn’t uncross.
No. It had to end today. As much as he hated it, it had to end today. The witch had her life, and he had his. 
He resisted the urge to reach for her, instead barely managing to keep the fabric of her cloak between his fingers.
“See? Nothing to look at,” she said, being the first to break away.
Cassian disagreed.
***
In the late afternoon he found her on the edge of the fenceline, a book in her hand while making a practiced motion with her arm.
She was speaking softly, repeating the same phrase over and over, and he could see the soft glimmer of her magic taking hold on the perimeter of the property.
Her magic—he didn’t have words to describe it. It held a silver shimmer, and when it concentrated it almost looked like silver fire.
She was warding, he realized. He didn’t know why he expected something else.
“You have defensive magic,” he said.
She paused in her incantation, and the silver fire faded in small wisps. “That surprises you?”
“If I’m speaking honestly, yes,” he said. “Witches don’t have the best reputation.”
Thankfully, she didn’t get upset by it. She merely asked him another question.
“Yet you came to my aid. Why?”
Her eyes met his, the setting sun making her hair look like molten gold. “Because I don’t know the whole story.” 
He added, “And I want to know it.”
She stood there like a queen, watching him with proud eyes and a stance that he’d seen time and time again with his fellow warriors.
He had to admit, she was striking. He’d seen a lot of beautiful women, but she surpassed mere beauty. She was everything strong and fierce and commanding, and he couldn’t for the life of him explain why he was so drawn to it.
She must have seen something true in his face, because her next words were, “Come.” 
Cassian made his way over until he was standing at her side. He stood close enough so that he could see the drawings in the book over her shoulder. Now that he was next to her, now that she let him closer, her voice turned softer. Not by much, but enough that he could tell that she was trying to connect with him in her own way, by sharing something precious to her.
“So little of what I do revolves around curses and jinxes. Most of what I do is this, and healing,” she explained.
“Do you ever perform those?” he asked.
“Would it make you think differently if I said yes?”
“I think it depends.”
She returned her attention to the book, not looking at him as she said, “I only sell those if it’s necessary.”
Cassian didn’t know what to do with that. All he had were the stories—of good men being cursed with misfortune, with no discernible cure in sight.
She went silent next to him, as if she was expecting the worst. 
Maybe she had a good reason. Maybe she deserved the benefit of the doubt. He’d assumed poorly yesterday, and that had blown up in his face, making him say things he regretted.
Today was a new day. He could choose not to believe the worst in her, and maybe she might do the same.
So he said, “Will you show me what you’re doing?”
The witch let out a soft breath, as if his lack of condemnation meant something to her. She held up the book a little closer so he could see.
“I need to draw the rune with my magic, and say the incantation,” she explained. “The drawings here are for practice. They don’t do anything.”
He looked over her shoulder, having to stop himself from reaching over and tracing her immaculate drawings with his finger.
As he pressed up against her, he resisted the urge to settle his hand on her waist. That would be entirely inappropriate. Her breath hitched as his chest brushed against her, a sound so lovely that it was pure music to his ears.
He cleared his throat. “So, you draw it in the air? And it just works?”
She chuckled. “Something like that.”
She pointed to one of the runes on the page she had open. “This one makes a shield. It’s strong enough to discourage unwanted attention from the men that show up on my doorstep.”
“I was able to walk in.”
She said without pausing, “Your attention was not unwanted.”
She could have locked him out without a second thought, after their fight yesterday. Yet she let him come back inside and apologize.
His mouth parted, then closed, but she continued on. “It’s not impenetrable, though. If any do get past it, that’s what Bryaxis is for.”
Like with Tomas.
“You’re trusting me with all of this?” was the only thing he could ask. A lesser man could sell out this information, leaving her for dead.
“I am,” she said. “Because I do think that under all that arrogance, and bravado, there is a good man. One that I don’t think would betray my confidence.” 
She turned, so that her chest was almost touching his.
Almost.
“Am I wrong?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t do that.” 
“I know,” she said simply.
Cassian shook his head. “I just don’t understand. You’re giving me the benefit of the doubt, when I have done nothing to deserve it.”
Her eyes softened. “You did the same for me,” she countered. “You put down your sword yesterday, and today, when most other knights wouldn’t hesitate to attack. That means something.” 
“That should be common courtesy.”
She shrugged. “It isn’t. It’s why I let you inside, and why I allowed you back today.”
“Your bar is exceptionally low.”
Her lips curved upwards. “Perhaps.”
She brushed a strand of her hair behind her delicate ear, and Cassian tracked the entire movement, not able to look away. “I’m sorry, too,” she said.
“For what?”
“For saying that I think you’re unworthy. I was angry, but I shouldn’t have said what I did. I believe you may be the most worthy of them all.”
Hope fluttered in his chest. “So, you’ll give me the sword?”
And just like that, it was gone—that moment of vulnerability between them dissolved. Her gaze hardened, and she turned away.
“You can’t marry her. My answer is the same.”
He remained silent.
“I know that’s why you came back. Why you…apologized to me in the first place,” she continued.
“I came back to apologize because I was wrong,” he said. “You hit a nerve, and I lashed out. But I do want to marry her.”
“You don’t know her. How can you marry a woman you don’t know?”
He didn’t have an answer to that, but he insisted, “I would be good to her.”
Her silence was a long one. “After what I’ve seen, I don’t doubt that. But my answer is no.”
She didn’t look his way again, returning to her warding. Her voice was quieter now, almost remorseful, as if she expected him to say something harsh.
He wouldn’t repeat his mistakes.
He stalked off before he could say anything he’d regret.
***
Her golden hair fell down until it tickled against his chest. She moved on top of him, naked and glistening, shaking as she took exactly what she needed from him.
The muscles of her thighs clenched around his waist as she let out a long moan, orgasming around him and slumping forward.
“Cassian,” she whispered.
He pulled her onto him, desperate to chase his own release.
“I–” he tried to say her name desperately. But it wasn’t there on his tongue, as much as he wanted it to be.
He was close. He was–
Cassian woke with a jolt, sweating as he sat up in his bed. His pulse threatened to explode in his throat, and he combed his now damp hair away from his face.
“Fuck.”
***
Before he could question what he was doing, he was saddling Ruby up yet again and making his way through the village.
Never mind that he’d sworn he wouldn’t go back. He told himself it was because there was still a chance he could change her mind. Yes. He could work with that.
The witch was tending to her garden, pulling weeds and gathering herbs into her basket when he arrived.
Her hair was pulled into a messy braid over her shoulder. He was hit with the urge to pull that braid apart, weaving her hair through his fingers as his dream came back to him in full force—the sound of her moaning on top of him, and the silver that blazed as she came around him.
Stop it.
He offered her his usual smile, and she pursed her lips in what he could tell was mock annoyance.
“You came back,” she said.
“I did.”
“My answer isn’t changing.”
“I think you’ll find I can be rather convincing.”
Play with me, he thought.
She seemed amused, if anything, and said, “I suppose we’ll see.”
They moved inside, the witch cleaning the dirt off of her hands. “You still don’t know her,” she said, pondering. “I do wonder how you intend to fix that.”
He dared to say, “And if I came to get to know you?”
She let out a huff of laughter. “Then I would say you were foolish, and to not return.” She gave him a knowing look. “But you haven’t said that, have you?”
He knew what she was truly saying. As long as they didn’t acknowledge it, she would play along. She’d let him come back.
“No,” he agreed. “I haven’t.”
But even still, her eyes glimmered. “Do try to change my mind, Sir Cassian. I’m curious to see what methods you employ.”
He almost smiled at her then, but before he could, the witch froze, looking distantly over his shoulder through the window.
He turned to see what she was looking at, but she didn’t let him.
“Don’t,” she snapped, stepping up and stopping him with a hand to his chin. It was stupid for his gut reaction to be that this was the first time she had touched him willingly. It was like he was a damn teenager all over again, desperate for any form of touch.
She was pressed fully up against his chest, her breasts pushing into him, and he blinked as he tried to pretend this was the most normal thing in the world.
Foolishly, he thought she might kiss him. But that was the lust-addled part of his brain speaking, for the witch then dragged him along and shoved him into a closet, hissing at him. 
“Do not, under any circumstances, leave this room unless I tell you to. And do not try to look.”
The door slammed in his face. He fell back into the clutter and scowled as something jammed into his arm.
She rustled around the cottage, clearly looking for something while muttering under her breath, before the cottage door opened.
There were two sets of creaking footsteps. Another feminine voice filled the room. They talked for a while, most of the conversation indiscernible, but he could pick up a word every now and then.
They were talking about a man, from what he could understand. Cassian leaned back, trying not to listen.
It didn’t work entirely. The second woman started crying, and the witch’s voice turned soothing, more so than he’d ever heard it.
“Here,” the witch said. “This will help. And if it doesn’t, you know where to find me.”
He heard the muffled sound of crying for a few more minutes, along with the occasional murmur of encouragement from the witch. Then the gentle croak of the door as the witch led the woman outside.
Once the door was closed, he heard the long, frustrated sigh that came afterwards. Then the door to the closet opened, the witch standing on the other side of it.
“You can come out.”
Cassian stumbled out of the dark closet, coughing up dust as he knocked over something wooden on the side.
The witch looked tired, her normally bright eyes dull and weary. Seeing this woman, whoever she was, had taken something from her.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“She doesn’t want anyone to know,” she said tiredly.
“She was crying. And you calmed her down.”
A muscle ticked in her jaw. 
“I know you men find this hard to believe, but I am not a monster,” she snapped at him, letting the bite leak into her tone. “Just because you all don’t have sympathy doesn’t mean I don’t, either.”
“I never thought you were,” he said honestly. After yesterday he thought they’d made some progress. But he was forced to admit that there were likely still misconceptions, on both their parts.
He didn’t know where the second half of what she said came from. But she’d been patient with him, so perhaps he could afford her the same courtesy.
“And I know it may still take some convincing, but I’m not one, either.”
He gave her a few seconds to calm down. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes while she sunk into a chair.
“No. I know you’re not,” she said, softer. “I’m sorry.”
He’d already forgiven her. 
He asked, “How did she find you here?”
“Anyone who needs me can find their way here with ease.” She waved her hand. “Magic.”
He had to admit, that made very little sense. But Cassian wasn’t a witch. He wasn’t well-versed in how their magic worked, or the intricacies of it. He was willing to learn, though.
He thought about how he’d just known where to find her, how he’d felt guided somehow. That string in his chest had brought him here, not just once, but three times.
Was that her magic? Or had it been something else? Fate, perhaps?
Cassian pushed those questions aside.
“Why does she come to you?” he asked.
The witch considered his question for a long moment before answering. “Some knights beat their wives. Take them against their will, too. Did you know that?”
That wasn’t what he was expecting her to say. He blinked.
He knew it happened. Though the knights in question never talked about it openly, for it was shameful to treat a woman like that, it did happen.
“I do.”
“You asked me yesterday if I perform curses and jinxes. I give them to the women who ask for them, and those that need them desperately. No one else.”
“And for the women who really need it, I help them escape,” she said. “Them and their children, if they need to.”
Not a soulless witch at all, he thought. He felt a lot of things then. Guilt for assuming and for his ignorance, and a newfound respect for the woman.
Her magic was beautiful. It healed and protected, which was a far cry from the stories and the warnings he had been raised on. Hell, even stepping into the clearing gave him a sense of peace that he now didn’t know how to live without.
“That’s very brave of you,” he said, his tone soft and serious.
Curiosity sparked in her gaze for the first time in this conversation. 
“What is bravery to you, Sir Cassian?” she asked.
“Just Cassian,” he said.
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Answer the question.”
Bravery was protecting those who needed it. It meant putting himself in between a beast and a child, risking himself so that others had a chance at safety.
He said as such. 
The witch gave him a small smile. “Bravery isn’t all swords and slaying beasts,” she said. “Do you understand?”
He’d never thought of any alternative. But after hearing that woman cry on the witch’s shoulder, and knowing that she was going to return to her husband…
It made him sick. He’d always known it happened, but had turned a blind eye because it simply wasn’t talked about.
Maybe there was more than one type of bravery, and more than one type of feat to be celebrated. 
What if there was more to being a hero than he thought?
For ages, he’d thought this forest was home to only monsters. But maybe not all monsters lived in the woods, and maybe not all heroes wore shining armor and lived behind palace walls.
Maybe one of those heroes was here, living among the beasts. As he looked at the witch’s face, he could see it. This woman was brave and honorable and charitable, and everything he wished to be. And she hadn’t slain a single monster in her life.
“I think I’m starting to.”
***
Her answer never changed. Not that he expected it to.
He was supposed to go rescue a princess, but this woman looked like a queen in her own right. And sometimes it was all he could do to stop himself from bowing at her feet and swearing fealty.
He found himself obsessed. There was no logical explanation for it. Cassian returned the next day, and the next, and every time the look on her face was a little less surprised. Every day, he grew a little bit less sure of his purpose. Of his destiny.
“Why do you keep coming back?” she asked. “You know my answer.”
“I don’t know.”
Because there’s something about you that keeps drawing me back. Because I can’t stay away. Because I want to know what your hair feels like between my fingers, and the way your name sounds on my tongue–
He forced himself to stop thinking about it. No. He couldn’t fall for the witch. That would be a disaster of epic proportions. He didn’t even know her name.
Never mind that he had come to love the silence of the woods, the only sound being the music of the wind darting through the trees and the babbling of the small creek across the clearing. Or that they so often fell into a gentle companionship that had Cassian staring in awe, watching her furrowed brow as she muttered spells and put together her potions.
He was merely…fascinated. And she was fascinated with him, too. That was all it was. She’d forget all about him once he fulfilled his quest, and then he’d go back, the princess in hand, and…
That unsettling feeling sunk in his stomach again. He’d never forget her. He didn’t know if he ever could.
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.
Her question broke him out of the cycle of his thoughts. She’d come inside from the garden carrying a basket of vegetables. He nodded, and she moved to go place the basket on the counter.
When she walked by him, though, he grabbed onto her wrist, forcing her to stop. 
“Tell me your name?” he begged.
Her gaze fell to where he held her wrist, then her gaze softened as she returned it back to his face. “My name is Nes.”
“Nes,” he said, sounding it out.
Somehow, it was perfect.
***
They stopped talking about the princess entirely. 
Cassian helped in the garden, or wherever she instructed him to. He learned that she loved music, and loved to dance when she was able. He wanted to bring her to the great hall someday to dance with her, although he didn’t say that, because he knew she would shut him out afterwards.
And she learned with great joy that he knew how to cook. She’d watch from the table, smiling softly as she pretended she focused on her notebook, but they both knew the reality of which they would not speak of.
She answered his questions. He answered hers. Slowly she opened up to him, and they both said nothing about the afternoons when she accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder while he read her books that were dirtier than he could imagine.
She listened as he told stories of him and his brothers growing up, and she smiled fondly as she spoke of her and her sisters. They had an interesting relationship, from what he could tell. She always avoided telling him any details about them, never even mentioning their names, which he found slightly odd.
She stopped asking why he was there, because internally they both knew that the answer had changed. So she didn’t ask, and he didn’t admit to anything. 
Knights came by every so often. She always shoved him in the cottage when they did, and he watched from the corner of the window as she wrapped her blue cloak around herself.
Most tried to attack on sight. Once Bryaxis shifted, only a few of them ever continued to hold up their sword. Oftentimes they went running, just as Tomas did.
Tomas was the only one that had rattled her, it seemed. He didn’t push, but she seemed grateful every time he asked if she was alright when she came back inside.
Stragglers came by sometimes, too. People who required her healing services, or a special potion or spell. Once she was drawn back to the city to help with a woman giving labor, and Cassian found himself back at the palace for the rest of the afternoon with no idea what to do with himself.
Today, Nes had him collecting larger stones from the edges of her clearing to place in her garden bed. He cupped water from the stream when he was finished, letting it wash away the sweat on his face, before heading inside.
Nes was struggling to reach a plate at the top of the cabinet.
“This damned…dish,” she muttered to herself, on the very tips of her toes, looking like she was about to fall over.
“Here, I’ll–”
He leaned into her space to grab it for her, his arms reaching high up. He pressed against the back of her body, and he felt every single curve up against his chest.
She seemed to realize the position they were in at the same time he did, slowly turning to face him.
She didn’t push him away. Instead her lips parted, barely an inch, and her hands tightened on the edge of the counter behind her.
Nes didn’t move as he pressed in closer, only a few inches away from her. He lifted her chin with his fingers.
There wasn’t a sound. In the pure serenity of the cottage, there wasn’t a single sound, save for the soft exhale from Nes as Cassian leaned even closer, and the slight rustle as the wind tapped on her glass windows.
Cassian didn’t know who closed the rest of the distance first. But before he could question what he was doing, his lips were on hers, soft and tentative as he explored. He gave in to his fantasy, bringing her golden hair between the pads of his fingers and inhaling her scent.
Honeysuckle. Loveliest when it bloomed in the secrets of the dark, sweet in its own private paradise. Somehow she bloomed out here, in a place with no light. Somehow she made it her own, made this dark corner of the world a little more lovely.
He shouldn’t be doing this. But that first brush of her lips had him deciding that he simply didn’t care. 
He didn’t care.
Whatever consequences came of this, he’d face them with honor. He couldn’t resist it anymore, this growing attraction that had turned to full blown lust and possibly even more.
Her fingers curled on the leather on top of his shoulders. He swallowed her gasp with his lips, pushing her open even further with his tongue, desperate to taste more.
Nothing mattered, if it meant he couldn’t have her at least once. Even if once was all they had. He’d selfishly let himself have a taste before their paths no longer had a reason to cross.
His hand cupped her breast, perfect and full in his palm. He pulled her up against him, letting her feel the growing desire he had for her, and her mouth parted as she let out a moan.
It was music to his ears. A symphony.
“I want you. Now, sweetheart.”
“I want–” she said, in the second between kisses, pulling him to her with anything her hands could grip. “Cassian.”
“Nes.”
She pressed her hips into him as he kissed down her neck, guiding her head back from where he held her hair with his other hand.
He brought that delicate skin of her throat between his teeth, nipping slightly, but not enough to bruise. She shuddered, exposing herself to him even further as he made his way down to her chest.
He was struck with it then. A taste never would have been enough. He would have found himself on the precipice here, time and time again, caught in a web he’d never be able to escape.
He wasn’t certain he’d ever want to escape.
“I’m taking this off,” he said. His hands circled around to the back of her gown, meaning to undo the laces. 
That was her line drawn in the sand.
Nes jolted, gasping as she broke apart from him and latching onto his wrists with her hands, seemingly remembering who they were and why, exactly, this was a bad idea.
“Wait.” Her hands tightened around his wrists. “Stop.”
He did instantly, pulling back to check on her. Her entire face was flushed, lips glistening. Her eyes were wide.
“Nes?” he asked, softer.
“I-” 
She didn’t have to tell him her heart was hammering. He could sense it, convincing himself he could feel it through her palms.
“Have you done this before?” He had to ask. Given that she didn’t invite anyone in here, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she hadn’t.
But she scowled, thankfully taking away that wide-eyed look, and said, “Of course I have.”
“Ok. Still, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry that I took liberties.”
He didn’t move a muscle as she leaned back. He monitored her every movement and facial expression, but she’d gone nearly unreadable.
Her hands still held his own with a death grip. With a blink she released them, in turn placing her shaking hands on his chest. 
“It’s getting dark,” the witch said. “You should go.”
It wasn’t getting dark. He’d stayed much longer only two days ago, only going back when the sun dipped behind the line of trees surrounding the clearing.
He didn’t want to go. 
“I should?” he asked. 
“Yes.”
He brought his hands down to her, stroking them softly. Nes tensed and moved back, and he immediately regretted it—doing something that made her uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s fine. You did nothing wrong. I did want it.”
She still couldn’t look at him.
“Nes,” he said, watching the shudder go through her from him saying her name. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Right,” she said, her voice sounding like an echo. “Tomorrow.”
***
When Cassian arrived the next morning, the witch was waiting for him.
He’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as he thought about their kiss. The way she felt in his arms. How she said his name.
How she stepped away.
The gold of her hair once again made its way into his dreams, and he found himself being awoken by the sound of her name falling from his lips.
Nes.
Something was different today. It was quiet this morning. The chattering was merely a whisper as he left the palace. No humming filled the clearing when he arrived, and the birds didn’t chitter in the way they normally did.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d say there wasn’t a soul to be found. But Nes was here, waiting for him. He knew that before he even walked inside.
He ducked his head under the doorframe to find her curled up in a chair by the window, her gaze set on the floor.
“Hi,” he said, offering an awkward smile in an attempt to break the silence.
Nes remained silent, keeping her eyes cast down, bringing her blanket tighter around her.
That uneasy feeling returned. Something was definitely wrong, he could tell. Cassian didn’t think he messed up too badly last night. She’d said she wanted it as he left. He shifted his weight to his other foot as nerves got the better of him.
“About last night—”
“The sword is on the table,” she cut in, not letting him finish. “You can take it.”
A glance confirmed her words. A large broadsword neatly sat on the table, gleaming in a way natural silver didn’t. He opened his mouth to protest, but his throat had gone dry. He couldn’t speak.
This was supposed to be what he wanted. Wasn’t it? It was why he told himself he was coming back every day, even if he knew it was a lie.
“You wanted to be worthy of a princess? Well, there’s the sword. I’ve deemed you worthy.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Silence fell. Then he said, “I don’t understand. Are we not going to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” 
He took a step forward. “Really?” he asked, with a soft calm. 
Nes glared at him. “I thought this was what you wanted. What other reason could you have for being here?”
Cassian stared at her incredulously. “You know that I’ve been coming here because–”
“No,” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t. I told you not to do that.”
What had she said that one time? That he would be foolish if she was the person he was coming to see. She had told him. And he’d stupidly gotten attached anyway. Tears threatened to burn in his eyes, and as he stared at the sword, he couldn’t help but wonder.
Didn’t she know? Didn’t she know how she now haunted his every thought, his every dream?
Her voice went softer, but it was still firm. “Take the sword, Cassian. Present it to the princess. You’ll have everything you’ve always wanted. You’ll have fulfilled your destiny.”
It felt wrong, leaving her. But he met her unflinching eyes one last time. Nothing softened in them. Nothing gave him any indication that she would change her mind.
“This is what you want?”
“I want you to be happy.” She swallowed, and looked away. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, Sir Cassian. Go and find it.”
“Cassian,” he said. “It’s just Cassian.”
“Right,” she said. But even as she said it, he knew. His name would never fall from her mouth again. Once he left through that door, she’d never have a reason to say it.
He didn’t want to walk through that door.
“It has been an honor, my lady,” he said quietly, before taking the sword she offered and tearing his eyes from her for the last time.
Cassian walked through the door.
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gyroshrike · 1 year
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No, you guys, listen, you need to realize:
Connie and Daryl are matesprits
and Carol and Daryl are moirails
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iniziare · 3 months
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Re-tag drop: Yelan
#yelan: ic. [ that's a worst-case scenario. but all too often; the most pessimistic speculation turns out to be the closest to the truth. ]#yelan: inquiries. [ oh? you'd like to know more about me? what will you give in exchange then? ]#yelan: countenance. [ an old friend of mine once privately commented to me that yelan “is always smiling; but never with her eyes.” ]#yelan: introspection. [ like a phantom she appears in various guises at the center of events; and disappears before the storm stops. ]#yelan: meta. [ the chances are if i open this door; there can be no witnesses left alive. is that a sufficient reason for you? ]#yelan: little notes. [ how can things ever be the same again: knowing your life was saved when others weren't? salvation can be a burden. ]#yelan: wishes. [ that which hides inside her… that constant calling; it is the blood of heroes which has been howling for 500 years. ]#yelan: etc. [ every round of finger-guessing is a tiny adventure; and every roll of dice sends sporadic thrills down her spine. ]#yelan: home. [ i'm guessing you've fallen for the rumors about me being very wealthy; having high demands for my standards of living? ]#yelan: yanshang. [ the teahouse has really brightened up after the boss took over and kicked the fatui and gamblers out. ]#yelan: lantern rite. [ every year on this day; the lanterns light up the night. may the fire never die and may humanity endure. ]#yelan: chasm. [ perhaps she will plunge into that darkness one day; and the ill fate that once befell her ancestors shall find her too. ]#yelan: scope. [ i serve ningguang. the tianquan of the qixing. the scope of my work includes some of liyue's biggest secrets. ]#yelan: weaponry. [ water. divided it is as streams uncounted: close yet untangled. united it is as a giant wave: inexorable; unstoppable. ]#yelan: uncle tian. [ there's nothing wrong with wanting to win other people's respect. but when has uncle tian looked down on anyone? ]#yelan: ningguang. [ we both made a mistake: we shouldn't have involved ordinary folk in what we do. / ordinary folk? ]#yelan: xiao. [ you think you're oh-so cold and ruthless. i'm not buying it. - losing one of us so the rest can escape? some victory that is#yelan: keqing. [ if something happens that they didn't anticipate; it throws their plans into oblivion. but the yuheng is different. ]#yelan: ganyu. [ i could never work non-stop like she does. certainly not at that level of efficiency. i guess being half-adeptus has its pe#yelan: yanfei. [ when i help her out; i always get some invaluable leads in return. gotta say though: i think she respects me a little much#yelan: traveler. [ you don't have to be on guard around me. i never scheme against people who have my stamp of approval. ]#yelan: v youth. [ you're still young. be patient. believe in yourself; and don't look outside yourself to prove your value. ]#yelan: v. pre-qixing. [ i don't do these things to help the powerful or mighty get rid of dissident forces. but because water too has a sou#yelan: v. qixing. [ seeing isn't always believing. and if you can't trust your eyes; you certainly can't trust rumors. ]#yelan: liyue. [ liyue will never plunge into disaster without clue of the danger like it once did. she will see that it is not unprepared.#yelan: wriothesley. [ don't fight over fleeting gains or losses. focus on where your heart is leading you and move forward. ] delusionaid.#yelan. [ i can't change the facts. but if it's a choice between the cold; hard truth and blissful unawareness: i'll take the former. ]
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stunie · 3 months
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“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU, I SWEAR!”
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WIND BREAKER BOYS + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, nirei akihiko, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader.
filled request: “Hi there i want to request something, asking Sakura, Ume, Nirei, Kaji and Suo to play fight and they accidentally hit you hard (If it's to many you can just do Suo and Kaji, no pressureeee)”
sfw. 3.2K wc. a/n: added togame! & tried to make suo & kaji’s xtra long since those 2 look like they might be ur faves <33
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HAYATO SUO.
in the time you’ve spent dating suo, you have never once managed to successfully sneak up on him. not even remotely close. it’s impossible to the point that you’ve started to consider the fact that your boyfriend may have developed a sort of sixth sense since meeting you, an intuitive awareness of your presence— because as soon as you step within a three foot radius of him, his head is swiftly turning to face you, greeting you with an amused smile and a “this again?” with that tone that has your eyebrow twitching all over again.
you continue to fiddle with the bottom of your shirt from where you’re hidden behind your apartment door, anxiously awaiting for the moment suo emerges from outside. your plan was nothing short of perfect, every little detail thought out— and you were entirely sure of it this time.
you had given suo a copy of your key ages ago, so that he could come in at anytime without you needing to be there. a second check of your phone’s messages has you mentally preparing yourself when you reread his “i’m coming~” text from exactly twenty minutes ago, and you smile to yourself. asking him to come by and babysit your cat while you went on a quick snack restock errand was the best excuse, and a part of you feels a little guilty for formulating such an intricate plan just to get a scare out of your boyfriend— but it had to be done.
the sound of suo’s key wiggles inside the doorknob, your breath hitching in your throat when you hear the lock switch just a few seconds after, followed by the eerie creaking noise that your door always seems to make.
“i’m here,” suo sings out to no one in particular, his usual smile etched onto his face as he takes a peek inside. dark, and empty. nothing unusual, not that he was expecting anything out of the ordinary in the first place.
as soon as he takes a step inside, he’s going to take off his shoes first, and you jump on the opportunity. you’re quick to lunge at him the second his thumb slips in his shoe, aiming to launch yourself into his middle and crush him in a suffocating hug. you don’t miss the way he tenses for a split second, eyes widening at the sudden movement— mind immediately flashing to his first thought…. an intruder?
he doesn’t recognize you at first, your figure reduced to a blur— and all he knows is that something is headed towards him. and fast. he’s moving on pure instinct, arm reaching for the closest thing to him at that moment: your arm.
you gasp when you realize just how agile your boyfriend really is. the truth is— you’ve never seen him fight, and he doesn’t really talk to you about it. he has a habit of leaving all the details out, and you don’t usually find yourself asking him about it after seeing the way he’s always coming out of fights unscathed. so sure. you knew he was probably pretty strong.
but you had no idea he was like this.
“w-wait!” you yelp when his foot comes to loop around your ankle, and you’re suddenly falling backwards. your hand desperately moves to catch onto something— anything to avoid falling onto the floor, so you grab a fistful of suo’s shirt.
he’s clenching his jaw in shock when you roughly yank him down with you, the familiar sound of your voice registering a second too late, because the two of you are crashing onto the ground a second later, suo’s weight knocking the wind out of your chest.
there’s a moment of silence as the two of you wince, your eyes fluttering open to meet with suo, looming over you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. genuine concern … and what looks to be .. shock?
it takes you another moment to take note of the subtle warmth you’re feeling until you finally recognize it as suo’s hand that’s currently cradling the back of your head— and you’re at a loss as to exactly when or how he managed to do that in only a split second.
“i’m sorry,” suo chuckles sheepishly, “you got me this time. i really thought you were an intruder.”
“but did you hit your head? hard? are you okay?” he continues, other arm coming to pull you up and hold you against his chest. “tell me.”
“i think so,” you’re barely able to mumble, heat rushing to your cheeks at the realization that suo’s first thought wasn’t to cushion his own fall, but to protect your head instead. “not that hard though… i think. it doesn’t hurt very much.”
suo’s gaze on you is suddenly much more noticeable, and you’re tearing your eyes away from him a second later, sneaking glances back and forth as he continues to search for any signs of pain.
none that he notices, and the way your lips are pressed in a nervous line is a good sign, at least. suo lets out a relieved sigh before he’s smiling again, as if you hadn’t just spooked the sealed spirits out of him.
“let’s not do that again, okay?”
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KAJI REN.
you’ve never seen the night market this packed in your entire life.
it’s so busy that it’s almost suffocating, each breath taking double the effort from the way your body is being smothered between people as kaji leads you towards the food stands.
‘the best fried octopus you’ll ever try,’ your friend had said…but you’re seriously reevaluating you and kaji’s decision to come here— on the busiest night all summer to top it off.
it definitely wasn’t the best idea the two of you have come up with.
you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve said the words “excuse me!” and “sorry, getting through!” tonight. a part of you feels bad for your boyfriend— because you knew kaji was way worse off than you, the scowl on his face running the risk of being permanently etched onto his face from the sheer intensity of his glare. the grip he has on your wrist is tighter than ever before, trying his best to weave his way through the crowd without losing you.
kaji knows his mood is worsening each time someone bumps into him, and twice— or even three times as much when he feels someone bumping into you instead. he can feel the way your body roughly jerks back from the impact, and it was stressing him out more than he could imagine. the possibility of losing you and leaving you all alone in an aggressive crowd like this was the last thing he wanted.
he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear you call out his name the first time, or the second time. not even the third time. he doesn’t hear your voice trail off a bit when you mention that his grip is starting to hurt a little— to maybe hold hands instead.
he didn’t hear any of it.
kaji catches a glimpse of an emptier area, and he’s suddenly pulling harder at your wrist to lead you to it, not hearing you squeak out an “ouch, that hurts!”
and it hurts badly, warm tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to try and keep up with him. it’s only when he suddenly jerks you around a corner that you’re tripping over the curb, stumbling and crashing into his back with a loud ‘ouch!’ that he finally turns to take a look at you.
kaji’s eyes are widening at the sight— your teary eyes peering up at him through wet lashes and your hand gingerly rubbing at your wrist. his words catch in his throat, barely able to sputter out an “are you.. okay?”
you shake your head quickly, lips tugging to a shaky frown. “you were hurting my wrist, kaji.”
his chest feels tight.
kaji is quick to bring your hand in his, gently cupping your hand as he looks at your wrist, and the guilt is flooding through him all at once. the thought of hurting you has him grimacing, feeling physically ill just thinking about it, and it’s not long before his mind is racing through all the scenarios.
he didn’t want to hurt you— and he doesn’t want to be someone you saw as ‘dangerous’ either. your wrist was so delicate, and it was a terrifying reminder of his strength— because he didn’t even realize that he was squeezing in the first place.
he truly had no idea.
“it’s okay,” your voice slices through the thick air, ripping him out of his thoughts, “i know you were stressed— it was scary over there.”
“i was scared too, kaji.”
the gentle smile you give him is the only thing that can bring him this much comfort, he thinks. it’s enough to clear his head, his heartbeat settling down, and he’s ripping another lollipop open before popping it in his mouth, turning and kneeling onto the floor.
“you can get on.”
even without his words, it’s a gesture you’re very familiar with— so you don’t hesitate for a second before climbing onto his back, arms circling around kaji as he lifts you up. there’s a subtle pink dusting the tips of his ears when you press a gentle kiss to his head, thanking him for carrying you.
“it’s not a problem,” he grumbles, voice coming out low as a futile attempt to hide the excited thump of his heart.
“get comfy up there, because we’re not leaving this damn market until we get a hold of that octopus.”
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NIREI AKIHIKO.
nirei swears that he had no idea that the pillow he had just thrown towards you a moment ago had buttons decorating the outside.
he really didn’t know, and of course it was the only pillow that happened to land right on your face.
“i’m so sorry! are you okay?” his voice comes out frantic as he rushes towards you, terrified eyes watching the way you rub your eye and groan in pain. this was terrible, he was terrible. pillows were never supposed to cause you any pain.
“it…it hit your eye? i’m so sorry,” he repeats, hands coming up to do something— wave around you in panic, because he’s not quite sure if he should touch you or leave you be. his hands hover just in front of your face, mind racing with potential ways he could help.
he jolts when you laugh a bit.
“you really picked the worst pillow,” your laugh comes out strained as you try and blink, vision spotted with dots from the hit you’ve taken. “…it’s okay though.”
it takes you a couple more seconds to see nirei clearly, and you can tell that he’s absolutely devastated with just one glance, nervous hands finally coming to grab at your shoulders, keeping you still so he can inspect your eye.
“let me see.”
he’s leaning in a bit, until his face is just a couple inches in front of yours. “i think um,” he squints a bit, ignoring the warmth rising to his cheeks from the proximity, “i think your eye looks fine.”
the guilt is still eating him alive. a part of him wishes that you had been the one to grab that pillow instead, because he’s certain he would have jumped on the opportunity to tank a hit from a buttoned pillow a thousand times before letting it hit you just once. straight in the eye. anywhere. it doesn’t matter to him.
“it probably is,” you give him a small smile, “but you still cheated. i won that fight.”
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SAKURA HARUKA.
“i-i didn’t know you were there!”
sakura’s a complete and utter mess, and he genuinely didn’t know any better. he didn’t hear you creeping up behind him, so when your arms suddenly wrapped around his middle, his reflex was to jab his elbow straight behind him— and it hit you square in the face.
he could feel his heart shatter into pieces when the sound of your yelp rang in his ears, jerking his body around only to see you stagger backwards, clutching your nose and peering up at him through those teary eyes.
sakura doesn’t know what to do. you’re sniffling now, your arms reaching out to hug him a second time, your voice barely coherent as you start babbling with a shaky voice, the only words he could recognize being “i deserve a hug for that.”
he’s a complete mess. he’s stiff when he lets you wrap your arms around his middle this time, face flushed with red at the simple touch and his heart hurting at the sound of you sniffling against his jacket, hand coming to wipe at the tears welling up in your eyes.
it’s impossible for him to not think of the worst— because he knows other guys wouldn’t be making this kind of mistake. his friends wouldn’t have elbowed you in the face in the first place. or at the very least, his friends would know how to comfort someone in this type of situation. he wants to kick himself for just standing there, words catching in his throat every time he tries and apologize.
“sorry…” your voice is quiet, but it’s enough to yank him out his thoughts. “i shouldn’t have scared you like that.”
it takes sakura a couple seconds before his mouth is falling at the apology. “huh?” he’s dumbfounded, hands coming to grab at your shoulders, “i should be apologizing!”
his face erupts in a furious blush when you giggle at his reaction, thumb coming to swipe at the tears that have spilled onto your cheeks. it’s only then when he tugs you back into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your head to hold you flush against him.
he thinks it’s because he can’t stand to see you cry.
“o-oh?” you whisper against his chest. “this is new.”
sakura chooses to ignore your little remark, clenching his jaw as he glares at your wall, gaze locking on anything except you. “i should be sorry,” he repeats again, his voice barely coherent with the way he’s fighting against his blush, “so you should just … you know. tell me. when you want a hug..”
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TOGAME JO. (pet name: doll)
“that’s not right, doll,” togame coos from below you, lips tugging into an amused grin as he watches you struggle to master the self-defense moves that you asked him to teach you an hour ago. or maybe two. it’s normal for him to lose track of time when he’s with you anyway.
your boyfriend doesn’t seem to realize that you don’t have the same stamina he does. or the focus, because you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again— unsure if it’s because you’re embarrassed of your confused attempts at grabbing him, or if it’s the fact that he’s so casually sprawled out underneath you.
“you listenin’?”
you perk up, followed by a delayed nod. a little too obvious, but he doesn’t say anything.
“you grab me here,” his voice is gentle, guiding your hands back to hover over his body, “and then you pull. remember?”
and you nod again. but the sound of his voice, slow and steady, paired with the way he’s lazily propped up on his elbows to look up at you through tired eyes has your mind spinning all over again, instructions already going out your other ear as you try again and take a large fistful of his sweatshirt.
“..like this?”
he hums, lips tugging into a smile. “that’s good, doll. now pull the way i showed you.”
and you do— or you try to. you tug with all your strength, but you can tell he hasn’t moved an inch. you can hear him hum in wonder above you, and that’s all it takes for your eyes to slam shut as you jerk and pull with all your strength— and you feel some movement for the first time tonight.
“wait…” togame interrupts, but you don’t stop, pulling and pulling— not realizing you’ve inched towards to very edge of your mattress. “wait— we’ll fall,” he repeats with a little more urgency.
it’s a second too late when you realize it, eyes shooting open the second gravity tips the balance, and you’re plummeting backwards with a shriek. togame’s twisting his body to catch you as fast as he can, but the frantic movement has his fist connecting with your cheek before he grabs a hold of you, yanking you upwards and into him.
“fuck,” you wince, rubbing your cheek with the back of your hand as you huff. “that hurt a bit..”
“sorry,” togame lulls, legs spread to have you seated right in front of him, “i was trying to catch you… didn’t mean to smack you like that. are you okay..?”
his hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting your head up to look at the him. the familiar heat in your cheeks returns as soon as you lock eyes with him, because he’s so close. you can feel his breath fan against your lips with the proximity.
and he’s looking right at you.
“‘m okay,” your voice is just above a whisper, “you barely even grazed me, anyway..”
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UMEMIYA HAJIME.
“when did you take that?!”
your arms shoot up to reach for ume’s phone, cheeks burning with embarrassment— because that had to be the most foul photo you’ve ever seen of yourself. the sound of your boyfriend erupting into the loudest laugh you’ve heard all day only has you seething— and he’s effortlessly holding his phone just out of your reach, as if to taunt you even further.
“you don’t need to know,” he grins widely, watching the way you shift your weight onto your toes in a futile attempt to reach his phone. “and it’s cute! you don’t think so?”
“give it!” you hiss, and you lunge forward to start pulling at the arm that has the phone, “i’m deleting it!”
“no way,” he retorts with a huff, but you’re pulling his sleeve with your full strength, and it catches ume off guard a bit, foot stumbling forward a step. he’s never seen you pull with all your might— so he just wasn’t expecting it.
you’re lunging again before he’s regained his balance, and he shifts his weight backwards, lower back colliding with the table behind him. his phone slips from his grip too fast for either of you to react, and it lands on your nose with a sickening thud.
his laughter vanishes as soon as you’re letting out a pained yelp, hands coming to clutch your nose, squeezing the bridge to ease the pain.
“ow….” you whimper, voice cracking a bit as tears start to flood your lash line. his heart breaks in two when he sees you sniffle, desperately blinking away the tears that threaten to spill as you check your hand.
no blood. just a lot of pain.
“i’m so sorry,” he’s hovering over you within a second, nervous arms fluttering just above your frame— because he hasn’t quite figured out what to do, and you look so fragile like this. he just doesn’t want to break you.
“..are you okay?” he breaks the silence, “let me see you.”
your face is buried in your hands when ume kneels in front of you, hands coming to gently tug at your wrists so you can look at him. “i’m sorry,” he repeats even quieter, worry flooding his expression when you tear your gaze away from him.
it’s your attempt at trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t know know that. his lips are tugging into a deep frown, eyes filled with worry as he tries to get you to just look at him again.
“look at me, okay?” he whispers, “let me see.”
a deep inhale, and you’re trying to make your voice come out steady again. “i think..i think it’s okay.”
your eyebrows furrow. “you klutz…”
the relief in his face is almost too obvious. he’s taking a sharp inhale, opening his arms to urge you to come for a hug. “i know,” he chuckles, “are you sure? you’re okay?”
you give ume a nod, ignoring the throbbing in your nose as your arms wrap around him, holding him close against you. “i think i’ll be okay if you delete that.”
“no way,” he retorts, relieved that you're at least not crying anymore. "but i'll give you cuddles. deal?"
he's pulling you tighter against him before you even give him your answer, and his shoulders relax a bit when you finally nestle into his arms, leaning into his hold with a soft smile and a throbbing nose.
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parkerslatte · 3 months
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Right Where He Belongs
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Azriel x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: mentions of a difficult pregnancy. mentions of death.
Summary: Y/N and Azriel were in love, and they still were even when Azriel was bound to Velaris for fifty years. When he goes to visit Y/N after so many years, he runs into a male who looks an awful lot like him.
Requested: yes. based off this request.
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
•••
“I need to get home,” Azriel muttered, pressing kisses down the side of Y/N’s neck. 
Y/N giggled. “You said that nearly an hour ago.”
“I know,” Azriel groaned, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck. 
Y/N smiled and gently pulled Azriel’s head away so she could look him in the eyes. “My love, I will see you in a few days. Surely you cannot miss me too much.”
Azriel gently cupped Y/N’s face. “I miss you whenever I’m apart from you.”
Y/N kissed Azriel on the tip of his nose. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Azriel said before surging forward to connect their lips. 
Almost instantly, Y/N melted. She always did whenever Azriel kissed her. Every thought seemed to fade from her head until she was only consumed by Azriel. Her fingers threaded into his soft hair, gently scratching at his scalp. Azriel hummed in delight. 
Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away. “As much as I am enjoying my time with you, I do need to get to work soon. And so do you.”
Y/N pulled her body from Azriel’s and threw the sheets from her bare body and stepped into the cool air. From the bed Azriel watched her, nothing but pure love in his hazel eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows and shuffled up the bed until he could rest comfortably against the headboard, his wings slumped comfortably. 
Feeling eyes upon her, Y/N turned around to face Azriel. “What?” she asked, failing to keep a smile from her face. 
“Nothing,” Azriel shrugged. 
Y/N rolled her eyes. “No, you were clearly thinking of something.”
Azriel shrugged once more. “All I was thinking is that you are beautiful. It’s nothing you don’t know already.”
“Stop trying to coax me back into bed, Az,” Y/N said and picked up Azriel’s clothes from where they were laying on the floor. 
Azriel caught them before shuffling out of the bed himself. While Y/N changed into her clothes quickly, Azriel changed slowly delaying his return back to Velaris. Once Azriel was fully dressed, he sat down on the edge of the bed and simply watched as Y/N styled her hair in the mirror. 
Y/N could see him looking at her in the mirror and she couldn’t help but smile. “I can feel you staring.”
“I’ve already told you, it’s because you are beautiful,” Azriel answered. 
“You’ve already said that,” Y/N said, turning around with her hands on her hips. 
“I’m only stating the truth,” Azriel replied. 
Y/N walked over to him and as soon as she was in touching distance, Azriel wrapped his arms around her as she settled on his lap. 
“I need to go,” Azriel said miserably. 
“I know,” Y/N said, brushing a strand of hair away. “But you will see me in a few days.”
Azriel huffed. “But that is too long. Why can’t you come to Velaris with me?”
“I still work for Thesean, Azriel,” Y/N said. “Just because I have been given more freedom over the past few months does not mean I can skip out on my duties when it calls for it.”
Y/N stood from Azriel’s lap and pulled him up with her. “Now as much as I hate to kick you out, I do have to get to work soon.”
Azriel sighed. “So do I.”
Y/N dragged Azriel to the door of her apartment. “I know that if I don’t push you out, you will not leave.”
Azriel chuckled. “You know me too well.”
“Better than I know myself,” Y/N replied and opened the front door. “I will see you in a few days, Azriel. 
The shadowsinger stepped through the threshold. “No kiss?”
Y/N huffed out a laugh and pulled Azriel close for a kiss. Everything within her told her to pull him back inside and take him to bed and never let him leave. But she didn’t do that. The moment her lips pressed against Azriel’s, Y/N was pulling away once more. “I will see you in a few days, my love,” Y/N said, slowly closing the door. 
“I love you too,” Azriel said, a playful smile on his lips. 
Y/N blew him a quick kiss and closed the door in Azriel’s face. Though she felt a wave of regret washing over her as she stepped away. Y/N quickly shrugged it off and went back to the mirror to sort her hair out. A few days. She would see Azriel in a few days. 
If only Y/N knew how wrong she was, she would have let Azriel remain in bed with her just a little longer.
***
50 Years Later
The moment after Azriel reunited with Rhys, he immediately winnowed to the Dawn Court. For fifty years he had yearned for Isla. There had been no way to contact her or send word, he was bound in Velaris with no way of communicating. That last time he had seen her, she had pushed him out of the door. Azriel wished he refrained only a little longer. He wished he would have coaxed her back into bed. Perhaps he would have spent these past fifty years wrapped in her embrace instead of sleeping in a cold bed, devoid of her warmth and scent. 
As soon as Azriel appeared in the Dawn Court he walked the route he remembered like the back of his hand. He would never forget it. Despite Y/N spending more time in the Night Court than Azriel did in Dawn, he still memorised every route possible to her apartment. An apartment he wasn’t even sure if she still lived in anymore. 
In the distance, Azriel could see the familiar building. He smiled to himself and quickened his pace. Azriel’s eyes were fixed on the building in the distance so he didn’t notice the figure stepping out in front of him until it was too late. Azriel stumbled back and maintained his balance but the figure was not so lucky. 
Azriel’s hand shot out to catch them but the attempt was futile as they went tumbling to the floor. 
“Watch where you’re walking,” the figure spoke, obviously annoyed. 
Azriel scoffed. “I should be telling you the same thing.”
The figure slowly stood to their feet and Azriel took the opportunity to look at them. The moment he did he felt his heart stop. 
It was as if Azriel was looking into a mirror. The male had the same hair as him, although styled differently. His eyes were the same shade of hazel as Azriel’s were, even the male’s dark lashes were the same. What Azriel picked up on most was the large illyrian wings tucked into the male’s back. Azriel’s mouth opened and closed. The male standing before him was related to him, there was no doubt about that. 
As Azriel’s eyes surveyed the male again, he noticed something familiar– very familiar. The male’s mouth didn’t match up with his at all. It was the perfect replica of the love of his life, even down to the slight scowl upon it. 
Azriel’s hands shook as the realisation dawned upon him. The male standing before him was related to him. And he was definitely his son. 
“I need to go…” Azriel mumbled before speeding off in the opposite direction of Y/N’s apartment. 
His heart beat so fast as his vision blurred. Azriel had a son. Not just a son. A son who was grown up. A son who had grown up without Azriel. 
There was an area surrounded by trees where Azriel hid himself from any onlookers. As soon as he was out of sight of everyone, he finally allowed the tears to fall. He had a son. Azriel had a child. Not being able to support his weight anymore, Azriel slumped onto the grass. 
Many thoughts swum through Azriel’s head. All of them of Y/N. She must have been pregnant before he was bound to Velaris. She must have sent so many letters that he wouldn’t have received. She must have thought he found out and left. More tears sprung to Azriel’s eyes. 
For fifty years, all Azriel had dreamed of was the day he would one day get to hold Y/N in his arms once again. Feel her touch. Hear her voice. Now, perhaps, he never would. If she thought he left her to have a child on her own. Let her go through birthing him alone–
Azriel suddenly stilled as dread filled his body. He had wings. His son had wings. Isla’s body was not fit to carry an Illyrian child. There was a possibility that she was not alive at all. 
A scream of anguish left Azriel as the realisation dawned upon him. All those hopes and dreams about reuniting with Y/N. Asking her to marry him. All of those hopes and dreams were shattered in an instant.
Azriel let his wings slump to the floor, not having the energy to lift them up. He clawed at his chest feeling his heart shatter as the thought that the love of his life may not possibly be alive. 
“Azriel?” A familiar voice spoke softly. 
Azriel’s head snapped up from where he was staring at the grass to look at the source of the voice. His tears blurred his vision but he shakily rose to his feet. 
“Y/N?” Azriel whispered. 
He blinked the tears away and Isla’s beautiful face came into focus. Wasting no time, Azriel rushed forward, as did Y/N. As soon as their bodies collided Azriel wrapped his arms around her as they sank down to the floor. 
“You’re really here,” Y/N whispered, emotion clouding her voice. 
“I’m here,” Azriel replied, his fingers threading in her hair as he cradled her head against him. “I’m here.”
“I sent so many letters,” Y/N cried. 
“I didn’t receive any,” Azriel explained. “I couldn’t receive any.”
“I missed you so much,” Y/N mumbled. “I never should have sent you out that day. We should have never left that bed. It’s my fault.”
“Hey, nothing was your fault,” Azriel said softly. “There was nothing we could do.”
Y/N continued to cry into Azriel’s shoulder as they held one another. Her scent was the same and it felt as if Azriel had never been apart from her. Holding her felt just like that last day they spent together. 
As her cries subsided, Y/N pulled away from Azriel to look at him. “There is so much I need to tell you.”
“I believe I already met one of the things we need to talk about,” Azriel said, taking Y/N’s hands in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 
Despite the tears, Y/N let out a breathy chuckle. “He came to me acting like he had seen a ghost.”
Azriel’s eyes stung as he thought about the male he had met not even ten minutes ago. “What is his name?”
“Forrest,” Y/N replied. “His name is Forrest.”
Azriel nodded and looked down at their joined hands. “He’s grown up.”
Y/N nodded sadly. “I found out I was pregnant only the day after I kicked you out. It was too early to pick up on a shift in scent but I just knew.”
“That was the day I was bound to Velaris,” Azriel said sadly. 
“It was, I tried all I could to contact you but it was impossible,” Y/N said. “At first I thought you had received the letters and left me.”
“I would never do that in a million years,” Azriel said. “Isla, please believe me when I say that if I had found a way to come to you, I would have.”
Y/N cupped Azriel’s cheeks, wiping away the fallen tears. “I know you would have. After not receiving a response from you, I tried to contact Mor, then Cassian and finally Amren. When I did not get a reply from anyone, I knew that there was something stopping you.”
“When I saw Forrest, and saw his wings,” Azriel began, fighting back the tears, “I thought something could have happened to you. Your body is not built to carry a child with wings.”
Y/N trailed her hand from Azriel’s face to link her fingers with hers. The feeling of holding Isla’s hand again sent shivers down Azriel’s spine. 
“I won’t lie to you and say the pregnancy was easy because it wasn’t. I was so scared the entire time,” Y/N explained. “But despite how frightened I was, I live in the Dawn Court, a place with the best healers Prythian has ever seen. The recovery was tough and painful but it was worth it in the end just to hold Forrest in my arms, a beautiful boy who looked just like you.”
Through his tears, Azriel smiled, thinking back to the boy he had run into. A life he helped create. 
“And Forrest,” Azriel said, “was he okay after he was born.”
Y/N sighed. “His wings were damaged during his birth, the healers did all they could for him. A lot of visits to multiple healers. He can fly but only very short distances or it hurts him. Forrest always tells me it is not a big deal but every single time he flies he is always in an extreme amount of pain after.” Y/N chuckled. “But he has your stubbornness. No matter how many times I tell him to take breaks and work on the programme his main healer had put him on, he still decides to go out on long flights. He says it makes him feel closer to his dad.”
“What?” Azriel said in disbelief. 
“Did you really think I haven’t told Forrest anything about you for the past fifty years?” Y/N said, squeezing Azriel’s hands. “Even though he had never met you personally, he loves you. Admires you. He has only just begun asking recently, but he has wanted to meet you for so long. I never told him the full truth, mainly because I didn’t know the full truth and because I know that if I did, he would try anything to get to you. He has your determination too. He is your son through and through, Azriel.”
Azriel looked down at his hand linked with Y/N’s. “I have missed so much of his life. How can I ever be a good father to him? I don’t know a single thing about being a father.”
“And you think I know anything about being a mother?” Y/N replied, a smile pulling at her lips. “I have been one for fifty years and I am sure I am still figuring out things as I go.”
“Will he want to meet me?” Azriel asked.
“He would want nothing more,” Y/N said. “But can I be selfish for a moment, I am sure Forrest will understand.”
Azriel nodded, pulling Y/N closer to him.
“I just want to be with you for a few moments longer,” Y/N said. “It has been so long since you have held me in your arms.”
Azriel smiled at Y/N. “I love you so much.”
The smile that lit up Y/N’s face was the one that haunted Azriel’s dreams and nightmares. But she was real, Y/N was real and Azriel held her tightly to him, afraid that he would wake up in his cold bed. 
“It has been a long time since you have told me that.”
Y/N surged forward once and pressed her lips against Azriel’s. Azriel simply melted into her, knowing that it was real. Y/N was real and he was never letting her go again. 
***
“Forrest,” Y/N said, pushing open the door to her apartment. “I have someone with me you have been wanting to meet.”
Azriel stepped in the room behind Y/N. The apartment was different, there were different decorations and furniture but it was still all familiar to Azriel. He noticed the small gifts he had given her over the course of their relationship in obvious spots around the room. Azriel smiled. 
As Azriel stepped further into Y/N’s apartment his eyes fell upon his son standing still in the centre of the room. 
“Forrest. This is your father, Azriel,” Y/N said. 
Azriel took a deep breath and took a step forward. “I bumped into you just outside,” Azriel said somewhat awkwardly. “I am sorry about that.”
Forrest didn’t respond as he took a few steps closer to Azriel. From this distance, Azriel could see clearly just how much Forrest looked like him but Azriel could also notice all of Y/N’s features in his appearance, all of the features he loved so much. 
“It is good to finally meet you,” Azriel said, feeling far too formal. 
Forrest still didn’t respond as he took a final step closer to Azriel, his face not giving away any emotion. Azriel noticed that Forrest wasn’t too much shorter than Azriel himself but the shadowsinger couldn’t help but feel intimidated under his son’s stare. 
“I thought that maybe, you and I could–”
Azriel was cut off by Forrest hugging Azriel tightly. Azriel’s body remained rigid until he could feel Forrest’s body begin to shake as he cried. Almost instantly, Azriel’s arms wrapped around Forrest as he tried to calm his son. 
“It’s good to meet you, dad,” Forrest mumbled. 
Azriel’s grip only tightened on Forrest as he felt his own tears well in his eyes. He was holding onto his son and the love of his life was standing just behind him. Despite his tears, Azriel smiled. He was right where he needed to be.
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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month
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lava lamp
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in which spencer reid comforts gn!reader when you find yourself contending with a sudden bout of depression
fluff
warnings/tags: established relationship, reader has depression, task paralysis, spencer reid can't cure your depression but he sure can't make it worse
a/n: this is most definitely not inspired by the pink lava lamp in my room. it has nothing to do with that. extremely short and sweet, WC <800
The room is awash in hot pink. 
It’s interrupted only by dark shadows cutting lines across the floor and the furniture. The blinds are down over the window so moonlight can’t seep in—assuming the moon is in fact out now. You’re not actually sure. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying here like this, studying the soft glow of the lava lamp where it sits on the bedside table, watching the blobs of orange separate and conjoin and float around each other like they’re dancing in the suspending liquid. 
The sound of keys in the front door, of it scuffing against the floor as it opens and squeaking shut and the lock clicking back into place, inspire the tiniest spark of joy inside you. For a few moments you remain in solitude—listening to the sounds of the kitchen sink running as Spencer washes his hands, a glass being set down on the counter, the soft rustle of fabric on fabric as he takes his coat off. Maybe you have really excellent hearing. Maybe you’re just imagining the sounds because you’re so familiar with his post-work rituals. 
Finally the bedroom door opens, catching your legs in a triangle of yellow light, and sounds cease—Spencer is surely standing in the doorway, surely surprised to find you sprawled on the bed, staring vacantly at the lamp you’d purchased last winter from an antique shop. 
The door closes again, encasing you in an amnion of pink warmth once more. 
“Hi,” he says, quietly enough. 
You don’t respond. Not for a lack of affection. Just for a lack of energy, really. Spencer is used to you, and he doesn’t let your heavy mood stop him from moving to sit on the mattress behind you. The heat of his hand is a comforting weight as it finds your back, slowly rubbing up and down. There is always so much love in the way he touches you. 
“How’re you feeling, honey?”
A quiet moment passes in which you’re gathering the energy to speak for the first time in hours. Spencer doesn’t rush you. 
“Tired.”
More quiet. 
“What kind of tired?”
But he knows what kind of tired. 
“I tried to fold laundry,” you mumble, lacking even the gumption to move your mouth much as you speak. You tap the laundry basket with your toe where it sits on the foot of the bed. The laundry inside remains very much unfolded. 
“I can handle it.”
If you had any more vitality you’d say, you shouldn’t have to, you just got home from a full day’s work, I’ll take care of it—but the truth is, you can’t handle it and you can’t take care of anything—not even yourself. All you can do is watch orange bubbles float in radioactive pink liquid. 
“I don’t know what happened,” you whisper. A few tears take you by surprise as they roll down over the bridge of your nose, though your face remains stony. “I’ve been here for hours.”
Spencer’s hand remains steadfast on your back and you wish you could express how grateful you are for it and for him and for his gentle voice, always. 
“Maybe nothing happened. Maybe some days are just hard.”
You sniffle. The answer is unsatisfying, but so is life, sometimes. And you know he’s right. 
“Yeah.”
Time passes. A few minutes, maybe, of listening to your own ears ring, to the haunting frequency of the old building, of the upstairs neighbors walking around and snatches of music coming from cars on the streets below. 
“You know, I sometimes have days where I just want to lie down and stare at the lava lamp too. I think a lot of people feel that way.”
You turn your head just slightly and finally see him, cast in the soft lambent glow, smiling down at you in that unconscious, serene way, that is little more than a curve of his lip. Just seeing his face makes something in your chest unclench.  
“Really?”
The soft arch of his smile flickers momentarily wider. 
“Metaphorically speaking.”
He’s perfect. 
You reach over your own waist to grab his hand, and he interlocks your fingers, running his thumb over yours. 
Spencer knows it, but you tell him anyway. “I love you.”
He leans down and kisses you, so softly it’s like medicine. 
You know it, but Spencer says it back anyway, sweetly against your lips, heads pressed together. “I love you.”
And you much prefer this view to the lava lamp. 
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leclsrc · 1 year
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wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1
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genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...
word count: 3.6k  
It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this
auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!
nsfw warnings under the cut!
18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie
It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 
To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.
The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—
“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.
His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”
“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.
You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 
“What about Max?”
Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”
“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.
“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”
The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.
Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.
His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.
OK, nice. Did u need something?
No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?
Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.
I thought we agreed no contact unless business
He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.
Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.
Yeah. Got a drink.
I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.
How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.
Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit
Yeah? I missed you today.
Really?
A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.
He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?
You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 
So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.
The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.
And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.
It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.
I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.
He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.
So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.
He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.
In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.
He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.
The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.
He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.
You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.
Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.
His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”
One week later
“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”
The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.
You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 
Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.
“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”
You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”
“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”
“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”
“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”
“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”
“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”
He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”
“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.
“Wanna test that out? Come play.”
Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.
“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.
“You got it wrong. Teaching.”
He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.
If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.
You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?
You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.
Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.
“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.
You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—
“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.
“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.
“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.
“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.
“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.
“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 
“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.
“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.
“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”
“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.
“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.
It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 
He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.
“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”
“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.
“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 
“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”
“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 
“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”
His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.
“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 
Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.
“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.
“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 
You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.
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forzalando · 3 months
Text
take my hand
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another 3k celebration blurb! this time, best friends to lovers with lando for my dear friend lee @scuderiahoney 💛 i hope you all love this one, it's an apology for unrequited love!lando lol no heartbreak this time, folks!!! i'm being nice!!!! set at the 2024 spanish gp but definitely some inaccuracies with the post race timeline and also please pretend max fewtrell was there pairing: lando norris x fem best friend!reader word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a blurb wtf is wrong with me) summary: it can be so easy to fall in love with your best friend, and it can also be incredibly hard to imagine a world where they love you back. in this world, you're one of the lucky ones. tw: short but steamy makeout scene, mild cursing
Loving Lando Norris was so astonishingly easy. It came as naturally as breathing for you and has for over half of your life.
You met so many years ago but it still feels like yesterday that he reached out to you and said, “take my hand”, pulling you gently off the ground while the other children laughed at your clumsiness. He told you that they laughed at him too – he was short, shorter than you even at that age, and he struggled to read and write. You vowed that day to always pick each other up when you fell or faltered, always stand by each other’s side even when everyone else was laughing, and although it was a promise made between two children, neither of you had ever broken it.
Smiling at the memory, you were off in your own little world – thinking about the days when he would pick you “flowers” at recess (you didn’t have the heart to tell him they were weeds) and you would always share half of your cookie at lunch.
A voice pulled you from your trance, making you jump slightly at the sudden interruption.
“What are you thinking about? Or should I say who are you thinking about with that dopey smile on your face?”
You turned to face Max Fewtrell, a staple in both yours and Lando’s lives for just as long as you’d known each other.
“I was just thinking about where we’ll go for a celebratory dinner after the race. I’ve been craving gourmet pasta and a fruity cocktail.”
“Right, and my name is Willy Wonka. You don’t have to tell me the truth, it’s fine! Just thought I’d let you know he’s looking for you, he wants you in the garage for the race.”
Your heart swelled – even though Lando asked you to be there for every race you could attend, it never failed to make you giddy. You nodded your head at Max, he smirked back at you, and you walked as quickly as possible to the McLaren garage without calling attention to yourself.
As soon as you stepped into the garage, you ran straight into Oscar and the force almost knocked you to the floor.
“Oh thank god you’re here,” he groaned. “Lando’s insufferable, asking where you are every five minutes.”
“Where is he? In his driver’s room?”
“Yeah, that’s where I last saw him headed,” Oscar yelled over his shoulder, walking towards his car. “Go work your magic on him!”
You rolled your eyes as you walked the familiar route to Lando’s driver’s room, your heart rate picking up a bit the closer you got to it. As soon as you were in front of the door, you knocked once and paused, then twice in quick succession, and once more after another brief pause – the secret knock you’d been using for years to let each other know you were there.
The door swung open almost immediately after your last knock and a frantic Lando yanked you inside. He flopped down on the couch behind him and covered his face with his hands – even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he had a frown and furrowed brow.
“Thank god you’re here now, I’ve been going insane. I need you to tell me that I’m going to win this race – now that I’ve won once, it’s fucking brutal being so close yet so far. Canada was a nightmare and today I’m starting on pole. They’ll eat me alive if I don’t convert it into a win and I don’t know if I can handle that.”
You sat next to him and gently peeled his hands from his face, glassy green eyes, flushed cheeks, and, just as you predicted, a frown and furrowed brow.
“I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, Lando,” you started to say until he interrupted you with a groan, pushing your hands away.
“Hey,” you whispered. “I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, but what I can tell you is that no matter what, I’m proud of you. Max is proud of you. Your family is proud of you. Your fans are proud of you. So many people love you and see what you’re capable of – winning a race, not winning a race, it doesn’t define you. You’re the hardest worker I know, you’re kind, you are the most wonderful friend. I’ll celebrate you even if you come plum last pushing a burning, front wing-less car across the line and so will everyone else who knows and loves you.”
By the time you’d finished rambling, Lando’s shoulders had visibly relaxed and he was smiling. Not the goofy smile with his teeth on full display but a smile was a smile, you would take what you could get.
“Thank you for always being there for me. I can’t promise I won’t be pissed if I lose today but at least I feel better now, thanks to you.”
You punched his arm lightly, jokingly, and rolled your eyes. “We made a promise, didn’t we? I’ll always be there for you, always there to pick you up, even if your inability to see how wonderful you are makes me want to scream.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfect, you love me, I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you, your days are miserable without me, tell me something I don’t know,” he jested, nudging your shoulder before standing and holding out his hand to help you up.
“In your dreams, Norris,” you scoffed. “Make sure that big head of yours still fits in your helmet before you get in the car.”
He laughed loudly as he led you out of his driver’s room, finally smiling the goofy smile you loved so dearly. The moment was short-lived – someone from his team called his name and he hugged you briefly before jogging towards them, yelling over his shoulder that he wanted you waiting for him in Parc Ferme after the race.
You shouted your agreement, hoping and praying he hadn’t noticed the rapid beating of your heart or how warm your cheeks were when he pulled you into that brief embrace. Although he had said it all to rile you up, you truly did think the world of him. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to you. In your eyes, he was as perfect as a person could be, and oh, did you love him. You loved him far more than a friend should and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep that to yourself.
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As Lando pulled his car in front of the P2 sign, you felt the familiar burning of guilt running through your veins.
Maybe you should have told him he would win. Insisted on it, actually. You should have been adamant that he would rise to the occasion and to the top step of the podium once again.
He wouldn’t want to see you, you were quite sure of that, and despite your promise to be waiting for him with his team, you tried to sneak away unnoticed. You’d slowly made it far back enough to be swallowed by the sea of people until an arm blocked you from getting any further.
You looked up to see Lando’s race engineer with a disapproving look on his face and instantly felt like your father had just caught you trying to sneak out after curfew.
“He wants you here and he’s going to need you here,” Will shouted over the noise of the crowd.
“I think I’m the last person he wants to see right now, I wouldn’t promise him that he would win. I basically jinxed his whole race trying to keep him from being so hard on himself. What if he thinks I don’t believe in him?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Will snorted. “Now please get back up there quickly so you’re the first person he sees when he gets out of that car.”
With the help of Will, you were pushed gently back to the front just in time to see Lando haul himself out of his McLaren. His body language was obvious – disappointment, sorrow, embarrassment, and your heart ached as you listened to the roaring cheers from the Red Bull team as Max launched himself into their arms.
You knew Lando would be running every possible scenario through his mind – what if he had gotten a better start, what if he’d managed tires just a bit better, what if George hadn’t been able to sail through at the start and he hadn’t had to back off of fighting Max. All of those thoughts a natural, valid response, but if he voiced any of them out loud he’d get torn to pieces by both journalists and fans of other drivers.
When he peeled his balaclava from his face your stomach twisted and you silently begged him to look your way – for him to find a face in the crowd that was so unwaveringly proud of him through everything, but he kept his eyes trained anywhere but you or his team.
Finally, you saw his eyes flicker to you, and he walked briskly toward where you and the few members of his team were waiting. Wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms and exhaled so deeply it felt as if he’d been holding his breath since the end of the race.
“You drove beautifully,” you whispered, combing your fingers through the sweat-dampened curls on his head. “I love you, you know that, right?”
Lando’s arms immediately loosened around you and his head was turned away from you, he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look you in the eye.
“We’ll talk later, I have to go do my interview,” he mumbled. “Wait for me in my driver’s room, okay?”
You nodded your head even though he was already walking away from you, shoulders slumped and jaw clenched. Honestly, you weren’t sure what hurt worse – the fact that you could physically see his disappointment or that he didn’t say he loved you back.
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It felt like hours before you heard an all too familiar knock on the door to Lando’s room – the door gently swinging open to reveal the tired face and frame of your best friend. He must have showered in Oscar’s room before coming to find you – the smell of champagne nowhere to be found yet his curls stuck slightly to his forehead. The sight was endearing, and it took everything in you to not pull him into you and bury yourself against his chest.
“You didn’t have to knock, it’s your room,” you spoke softly, adjusting your position on the couch.
“Force of habit, I guess.” The corner of his lip turned up when he answered you – a good sign, a sign that maybe he wasn’t angry with you at all about your earlier conversation.
Although it was Lando who asked to talk, you couldn’t help yourself from blurting out an apology as soon as he took a seat next to you.
“I’m so sorry about earlier,” you pleaded. “I should’ve said something different, I should’ve just said what you wanted me to say. I meant all of it, every word, but you asked me to reassure you in a specific way and I didn’t.”
Lando blinked a few times as he stared at you, his mouth falling open in shock? Amusement? You couldn’t tell, but at least he didn’t appear to be mad.
“Do you think I’m angry with you?”
“Well, yes,” you mumbled. “I probably jinxed your race.”
“Jinxed it? If anything, you’re the reason I finished second. I kept thinking about what you told me instead of focusing on how I screwed up – it kept my head in the race.”
“But, but,” you stammered, “you didn’t say you loved me back. In Parc Ferme, when you were hugging me. You always say it back, I thought you were furious with me.”
“Would I have walked over only to hug you if I was furious with you?”
You felt a little embarrassed at your panic – “I suppose not, you probably would’ve stayed as far away from me as possible.”
“Exactly, you silly muppet,” he teased, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “I didn’t say it back because I realized that it means something different for both of us and I, believe it or not, got scared.”
Your eyes widened and you felt like you were going to be sick. He knew. You shouldn’t have been surprised, everyone had figured it out – his pit crew, Will, Zak, Oscar, Oscar’s girlfriend the literal first time you met her, all of your friends and family, even drivers on different teams had made comments to you in passing over the years.
“Lando, I,” you tried to get ahead of it, ahead of the rejection and the awkwardness, but he cut you off with a raised hand and a pleading look.
“Please, just let me get this out or I never will,” he begged. “I think I’ve always known, or at least everyone around me has just always told me that it’s painfully obvious, but I didn’t fully realize it until earlier today. You care about me so much, more than anyone, and I’m almost positive I could be the lousiest driver, lawyer, engineer, teacher, architect, whatever, and you’d still always be proud of me. You’d be there for me regardless with a giant smile on your face, an “I love you”, and a hug that would heal any self-doubt or negative thoughts. You mean everything to me and I don’t know what I would do without you but – ”
You waited with bated breath, your leg bouncing uncontrollably and heart hammering in your chest. Waiting for the “but I don’t feel the same”, “but I see you as a friend”, for the inevitable heartbreak.
“But I can’t keep my feelings a secret anymore, even if it might ruin everything, but I have to believe it won’t because we can get through anything together. I love you, Y/N, more than anyone in this world, more than a friend, more than I ever thought it would be possible to love someone. I’m saying it back now, hoping that you feel the same because it’ll be incredibly awkward if you don’t, but that’s what I had to tell you first. I love you. I think I always have.”
It felt like the earth had stopped moving, time frozen and only you and Lando existed in this moment, only you existed in the entire universe. Your thoughts raced with what to say back – something romantic? Should you just jump into his arms and kiss him senseless like you’d dreamed about for years? Unfortunately, you landed on something far less eloquent.
“You what?” Your shout echoed in his driver’s room, if anyone was within a ten-foot radius they surely would have heard you.
“Well, I guess that’s not the worst reaction,” Lando pondered, looking away from you bashfully. “Nora Powell stomped on my foot when I told her I liked her. Do you remember that? I think it was Year 10?”
You did remember – it was quite a horrendous memory for you, actually, as that’s the year you realized you had a crush on your best friend.
“Oh, I was so jealous of her,” you blurted. “I cornered her at lunch the next day and told her she was the luckiest girl in the world and a certified idiot for turning you down.”
His head snapped back to look at you, a hopeful glint in his eye.
You smiled at Lando, tentatively cupping his cheek. “I suppose I’m the luckiest girl in the world now, to love and be loved by the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”
“Oh no,” he insisted, “I promise you, I’m the lucky one.”
He kissed you once gently, tentatively, his lips barely brushing yours before he pulled you into his lap and slid his hands to rest on your neck, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. In an instant, he was kissing you breathless, licking into your mouth as you whined and pressed yourself against him.
One roll of your hips had him panting, a hand leaving your face to slide under your shirt, leaving a trail of fire until he stopped and squeezed just under your breast. You were dizzy with desire and full of so much love for the man underneath you – he was intoxicating, you never wanted to stop kissing him, you never wanted to know the feeling of his hands not wandering your body.
You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to disconnect his lips from yours even though it pained you to do so.
“I love you so much,” you muttered, a tear escaping from your eye. “I never thought – ”, you couldn’t even get the words out, choosing to bury your head into Lando’s neck as he gently rubbed your back.
“I know,” he whispered, lifting your head to kiss you senseless once again.
The two of you were so wrapped up in one another that neither of you heard a knock at the door or the turning of the knob. You did, however, hear the blood-curdling scream.
“Oh my god, my eyes,” Max groaned, slapping a hand over his face while he dramatically dry-heaved. “Get a room, you deviants!”
“Mate, we are literally in a room!” Lando shouted back, lifting you gently off his lap before he leapt to his feet and pushed Max backward. “We will see you back at the hotel.”
“Great, I’ll be bleaching my eyes out when you get there. For the record, I’ve always wanted this to happen, but I never wanted to see it.”
“Well, that’s your own fault,” you scolded. “Next time wait for a response before barging in somewhere.”
“Oh, believe me,” he stressed, “I’ll never be walking into any room you two are in ever again. Not even if there’s another fire and I’m the only one who can warn you to get out.”
“The dramatics are unnecessary but you do need to leave,” Lando insisted, pointing out the door.
“Yes, absolutely, but before I go, who confessed first?”
“Lando did,” you said proudly. “I’m just irresistible, I guess.” Lando winked back at you, which you took to be an agreement.
“Damn it, I owe Piastri, Sainz, and Verstappen $100 each,” Max groaned. “Like they need my money. See you two lovebirds later!”
He shut the door so quickly that neither you nor Lando had time to react to the fact that your friends had been betting on you. It took a few rounds of looking back and forth at each other and then the closed door before you burst into giggles and fell back into the couch, clinging onto each other. You laughed a bit too hard, your hands leaving Lando to clutch at your ribs. Almost instantly, you felt yourself sliding off your seat, your bum hitting the floor with a thud.
You looked up to see Lando with his arm outstretched, a cheesy smile on his face as he repeated the same words he said to you so many years ago.
“Take my hand.”
And just like you did that fateful day, you grabbed on, let him pull you up, and fell in love all over again. 
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hargreeves-duncan · 1 month
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Hey, I read your last Five fics which I absolutely loved and I was wondering if I could request a (Five x Reader) or (Five x OC) in which Five betrays the MC with Lila in the subway and when they come back MC leaves him and meets someone else who she falls deeply in love with (probably married her new partner and even has children) and years later Five finds her and he tries to fix everything because he realized that whatever happened with Lila was not real love and then he witnesses MC with her new family and realizes that it could’ve been him if only he would’ve treasured her love and stayed loyal to her?
I just love angst with a happy ending for the person who was betrayed and a miserable life for the traitor.
a/n: i’m inclined to agree, bad people deserve to get what’s coming to them!! i know everyone really wanted a pt. 2 to the cheating!Five fic and that’s what this turned into so… hope you enjoy!❤️
summary: you’ve moved on, five’s still recovering from the life that could’ve been
warnings: cheating
word count: 2.2k
tags: @snixx2088
pt. 1
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Five checked the address in his notepad for the hundredth time since he’d left his apartment. He looked back up at the house with its neat entryway and wide, glorious front garden. There were cream roses spiralling around the white picket fences and he wondered if you were the one who’d painted them. You'd always had a knack for fixing things up and making them shine better than they had without you, himself included. Your entire house, no, home, was beautiful - but what else did he expect? It was yours, after all.
He took a deep breath, wringing out his hands that were already sweating profusely. He hadn’t felt nerves like these in years. It had been so long since you’d last seen him and your life looked so perfect and picturesque without him in it that he felt selfish for dirtying your lawn with his presence.
Things had been difficult during the split, you couldn’t even hold his eye or be alone in the same room as him after the events of Christmas Eve. But even after everything, you’d still been straight with him, and civil too, when you told him that you were going to stay somewhere else for a while. You'd needed some time before the two of you could be close again and, of course, he’d agreed. To tell the truth, at the time he hadn’t even minded. He had Lila then. Why was there any need for you to stay around?
But after a while, she had left too. For Lila, their seven years together really only had been a fling, a spur of the moment. She went back to her husband, her family. And Diego, being softer than you were, let her, no matter what she’d done or how badly she’d hurt him. The two of them had pushed forward and eventually they’d made it to the other side. They weren’t the same couple as they had been, but they were doing better, and for them that was enough.
After that, Five had grown bitter towards you and the way you’d reacted. Why couldn’t you see things the way Diego had? Why hadn’t you taken him back and reassured him that you would fix it all, like his brother had done for Lila? That was how things were supposed to go.
He was angry at Lila for a while too, for choosing her family over the future he wanted with her. He hadn't understood how their affair was formed by circumstance, not love. He knew better now.
Looking back, a small part of him actually respected you more for turning him away. It was strong of you to choose yourself for once and he was proud of how you’d pushed through, even when he had begged and pleaded for you to take him back. 
He wouldn’t do that today, he promised himself, as he marched on and up the steps of your front porch. He brushed his hair out of his face and then he reached up, knocking on the door. He heard the soft thump of feet on the hardwood floors draw closer.
The door opened and there you stood, smiling, “Hi!” You paused as you registered who it was that stood in front of you. Shocked, you said, “Oh! You are not the mail.”
Five laughed softly, shaking his head, “Uh… I am not, no.” He silently looked over you, taking in the ways you’d changed since he last saw you. Your hair was slightly longer than it used to be, but it looked good, suited you. As did the outfit you were wearing. He didn't dare to say that out loud though.
“I… Hi, Five. What can I do for you?” You asked, stepping out onto the porch and gently closing the door behind you. He’d missed your soft-spoken voice and hearing it made a dreamy smile form on his face.
“I wanted to check on you, see how you’ve been.” He gestured to your front door, “May I…?”
You hesitated for a moment but then you sighed, nodding and smiling weakly, “Yeah, of course. Come on in.” You say, opening the door again and leading him inside. You’re walking three strides ahead of him as you ask, “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”
“Uh, yeah. Coffee would be great, actually.” He says, blinking up at you in slight surprise as he steps into your home. He was expecting more resistance. The interior of your home is just as nice as the outside. It’s warm and so clearly full of the love that you’ve put into it. His eyes are drawn to the pictures on the shelf in the walkway.
There are a few of you with his siblings. He’s not surprised about that. In the wake of your divorce, it was you that they’d sided with and, even now, they were still treading lightly around Lila and him at family functions. What does surprise him are the two children that Klaus has his arms wrapped around in the family portrait at some celebration or other. They feature in several photos, dressed in pretty dresses and sporting toothy grins in almost every one.
Before he can overthink it, your voice is calling out to him, “Five?” You poke your head out of the kitchen door and he smiles resignedly. He stands up and follows you into the kitchen. He sits on one of the stools at the island.
The only sound comes from you, pouring out his coffee. You fetch yourself a water and then slide his mug towards him. He smiles gently, taking the warm beverage into his hands, “Thank you, love.”
Leaning on the counter, opposite him, your head snaps up to look at him as you laugh nervously. Catching his mistake, Five shakes his head, laughing a little himself, “Sorry. I guess it's still a force of habit.”
“It’s fine.” You say with a small smile, sipping from your own glass. The silence becomes comfortable. There was something familiar about this routine, enjoying the quiet company of one another and it settles any nerves left in Five.
Steadying his breath, his eyes search the kitchen for answers of what your life has looked like these last few years. More than a few times, he’d asked his siblings and they’d given little or sometimes even nothing to work with. He wished he still knew your ins and outs like he used to.
He finds his answers hanging up in a frame on the far wall. It’s a nice photo of you, your happiness shines out of it and watches over the room. There’s someone else in it too. Five doesn’t recognise him but by the placement of his hands, he knows what he must mean to you.
Five clears his throat, pointing to the photo with his mug, “Who’s the guy?”
You look up and feel your cheeks flame as you find the photo you had taken on your last vacation, “He’s my partner.” You say and your smile is shy as you talk about him. One mention of this guy and you’re already indescribably smile-y.
It makes Five’s stomach churn when you say, “We’ve been together for nearly five years now.”
“Oh, wow…” He says, eyebrows raising. He’s trying and failing miserably to mask his surprise and pain. It’s not as if he expected you to come running back into his arms with some crazy love confession or anything, but he didn’t think you’d have moved on either.
What hurts the most is how happy you look to be talking about your new partner, your eyes lit up with affection that used to be reserved for him, “That’s… that’s amazing, congratulations.”
You smile softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you set your glass down, “Thank you.”
“And the kids in those photos in the hallway…?” Five says, glancing over his shoulder as if they’ll come barreling in at any second. He’s not sure he could face two girls with eyes just like yours staring back at him.
You nod, “They’re mine, yeah. They’re three. At pre-school right now, but, you know…” You answer, shrugging and smiling at the thought of your twin little girls.
After your time at The Commission, you’d been terrified of the mother you'd be. Some days it still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to turn into a cruel, awful person. But, you hadn't so far and your partner was always there to soothe you when those thoughts started to creep up on you.
You were still learning that it was okay to be a mother and have had your own life before that as an assassin. Being a good killer didn’t stop you from being a good mother and you were more than capable of giving your girls the love they deserved. Everything you did was for the good of them and you were doing an amazing job at giving them a happy and completely normal life.
“Jesus, wow…” Five laughs to himself, running a hand over his face as he looks back at you. He’s speechless, hearing about the wonderful life that you’ve built yourself. He feels a deep-rooted guilt spring up in him. He never gave you that life but it was plain to see how much you craved it and how you were thriving in it.
He’d spent so long saying that maybe, one day, in between all of the chaos of your lives, you’d find time for a quiet life like this. He’d spent every waking moment pushing the future and its commitments as far away as he could, arguing that all he wanted was to focus on you whilst he had you in his arms. But he had never given you what you wanted and now you’d found it with someone else.
Swallowing down the ache in his chest, he pulled his mug closer to himself, seeking out the warmth of it on his palms to ground him, “You look really happy.”
“I am, I really am.” You say, smiling softly at him. You were happy that Five had come here today, that you could get some true closure on your time together, it felt like a lifetime ago now. Sunlight poured into the kitchen and your bracelet shimmered under its rays, a dazzling silver.
A strained smile makes its way onto Five’s face at the sight of it, yet another symbol of the fact that didn’t belong to him anymore. It hurt to admit it but silver suited you far better than gold ever did, and he’s sure that there’s a metaphor somewhere in there but he wasn't ready to face the truth behind it yet.
You take another sip of water and there’s a peaceful silence that falls over the room that gives you both the chance to absorb everything that’s passed between you in the last two decades. You look over his features and tilt your head to the side, “What about you, though? How’re you doing?”
Five could answer with what he’s really thinking - that he’s sorry for putting your dreams on the back-burner and that he didn't treasure you the way should've the first time around. He wants to tell you that if you go with him right now and give it all up that he can be the one to provide for you instead and he wants to tell you that he would be so much better than your new partner ever could - but he won’t, he promised he wouldn't.
Instead, he smiles weakly, shrugging his shoulders as he sits up, “I’m doing okay.”
You’ve said it yourself, you’re happy as you are and, unlike him, you're not hung up on the 'what ifs' and the 'could've beens'. You don't need him anymore and he's not selfish enough to risk ruining your happiness just to make some pathetic promise that you both know he won't keep.
“Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad.” You smile and the genuinity in your voice is the real kicker. You’re such a good person that you still care enough to want to know that he’s alright after everything, when he's still weighing up whether he should ruin your relationship or not.
He can’t help but question if he ever deserved you in the first place.
There’s a knock at the door and the both of you jump slightly. You laugh, “That must be the mail.” You set your glass down, padding out of the room.
He chuckles to himself, nodding, “Looks like it.” He mutters, finishing the dregs of his coffee and places the mug down on the counter as he stands up. He has to get out before he ruins your life all over again with words that you don't want to hear.
Walking back into the room with two boxes on your hip, you watch as he picks up his coat, “Oh! Please, don’t feel rushed, you don’t have to leave yet. I don’t have to go get the girls for another few hours.”
Five shakes his head, “No, it's alright. I’ll get out of your hair.” He says, walking into the hallway, “Thank you, by the way, for the coffee.”
“Of course, you’re welcome.” You say, following behind him as he walks out of the door.
He hovers on the porch and you smile kindly at him, “Just... please, don’t be a stranger, Five.”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to."
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Text
It's a Match! || 141 x Reader
[ Chapter 12 ] || [ Chapter 14 ]
Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.9K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: the start.
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Chapter 13: Yes, and?
Once Ghost touched down from the mission, and after being seen in the infirmary for a couple of nicks and gashes, he went, as usual, to Price’s office to debrief. As he walked out, his one thought was that he needed to get out of base and take his phone to be repaired… Or maybe get a new one.
Normally, he wouldn’t care so much, but ever since the two of you started texting constantly after that night together, he couldn’t help but be attached to the little device. Even Soap had made a joke about how addicted to his phone Simon was and how it must all be “thanks to his little date that he refuses to tell me about”.
As he rounded the corner to his hallway, he spotted Gaz leaning on the wall next to the door to Ghost’s quarters.
“Gaz.” Ghost greeted with a nod as he pulled his I.D. card from a pocket in his vest and slid it into the card slot, popping the door open.
“Sir.” Gaz acknowledged as he pulled away from the wall and stood there, arms hanging by his sides, waiting.
Ghost went leaned against the door jamb. “Something you’d like to say?” He asked.
“Yes, sir.” Gaz said with a nod and cleared his throat softly. “Your… friend DMed me on Tinder looking for you.”
Ghost closed his eyes and sighed for a moment before he opened them again and stared at Gaz. “And what did you say?”
“The truth. Your phone broke and either way you had left for a mission so you wouldn’t reply for a while.” He answered.
Ghost nodded. “Thanks for that. Didn’t think I’d leave them worried sick.” He said sincerely and began to turn to duck into his room.
“I also went out with them.” Gaz added right as Ghost crossed the threshold.
That stopped Ghost in his tracks and the bigger man turned to look at Gaz over his shoulder. “You did?” 
“Yeah… Went for lunch… Got curious once I learned you two had a date, sir.” Kyle admitted, lowering his voice out of respect for Ghost’s privacy.
Full of respect, Gaz was. Ghost always appreciated that about the sergeant. Except right now.
“And since when do you have a right to be curious about my life? Is it any of your business?” Ghost asked, though his tone was calm and deadpan, not hostile or angry at all.
“Since I matched with them before anyone else… And you moved in after Captain Price.” Gaz retorted.
“Are you trying to call dibs over them, like Johnny did?” Ghost asked as he took a step to stand over Gaz.
“Maybe?” Gaz replied and shrugged, dipping his head back a bit to look the taller man in the eyes. “I mean…” He trailed off and shrugged. “They’re nice, sweet, kind, caring, funny, easy to talk to…”
“Yes, and?” Ghost retorted. “What are you trying to say, sergeant?” He asked, his voice wavering just a bit.
“I’m just… asking permission, I guess.” Gaz said, his tone the most cordial and reverent he could.
“Permission?” Ghost asked and had his skull not been in the way, Gaz would’ve seen his eyebrow cocking.
“To keep seeing them.” The younger man clarified.
Ghost’s eyes narrowed as he looked Gaz up and down. “You’re asking what exactly? To share them?” He asked as he curled his head a bit to the side, as if to hear him better.
“I guess so.” Kyle replied. “Is that alright?”
Simon’s lip curled in contemplation before he nodded curtly. “I guess I can’t object to that.” He conceded.
“But does it bother you?” Kyle asked in earnest, his brows furrowing a bit in concern.
Ghost shook his head a bit. “I don’t have a claim to them.” He said calmly.
“With all due respect… That’s not what I’m asking, sir.” Kyle insisted.
With a deep breath, Simon took a step into his quarters and gestured the sergeant inside. Then, he shut the door behind them and leaned himself against the wall by the door.
After a deep breath, Ghost shook his head. “Bothers me a little.” He admitted. Gaz nodded in understanding.
Another deep breath later, Ghost continued. “They… make me feel… human.” He explained and turned his head to look away. “Outside of the soldier, outside of the Ghost.” He said in a tone that entailed more than simple friendship.
“There’s no expectations. No one asking me to kill. No one telling me ‘Jump!’ only for me to reply ‘How high?’. It’s just…” He trailed off.
Gaz looked down at his feet and rocked back and forth, a bit awkwardly. It was the first time he and Simon had a conversation as deep as this… Having never quite felt that the Lieutenant let him in or saw him as worthy of something other than small talk and jokes over comms.
“I see.” The younger one said and sighed. “I… I can give up on it, if you wan-”
“Don’t.” Ghost interrupted and looked right at Gaz. Then, he took a deep breath and scratched at his exposed forearm, his gloved fingers dragging along the tattooed skin.
“I’m going to buy a new phone. Or get mine repaired…” He explained. “But… after that I was planning on going to see them… tonight. If they accept.” He said with a sigh.
“Maybe order take out… Game and watch movies…” Ghost said and with the tone of someone who’s making a great effort to speak, he looks at Gaz. “Do you wanna come with?” He asked in earnest.
-
Kyle had already texted you, per Simon’s request, to warn you of their intentions to grab takeout and head over… And you seemed quite giddy. So it didn’t surprise him when you opened the door for them with a smile.
“Hi!” You greeted them, took the bag of takeout food, and ushered them inside, instructing them to take off their shoes. Simon didn’t even need to be told, he already took initiative to do so. 
He had made an effort, Kyle had noticed, and put on a white henley shirt, a leather jacket, and black jeans… but still kept his stupid bloody mask on. Kyle himself was wearing an oversized purple-ish jumper and blue jeans. 
Kyle observed quietly as Simon shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair in the ‘dining’ area of your sitting room. “You bought a new candle.” He announced as he looked at the small lit flame on the coffee table.
“I did!” You acknowledged as you carefully opened the take-out containers and spread them all around the coffee-table. “Don’t just stay there, Kyle!” You told him, prompting the lad to finally move away from the entryway door, approaching you to sit on the couch.
Him and Ghost sat on opposite sides of the couch, leaving just enough for you to get squished in the middle, sandwiched by them. You each grabbed your food and, at first, it was incredibly awkward. The silence too large to allow for any of you to truly feel comfortable.
You looked back and forth between the two of them, eyes darting as if you were following a tennis game. Above your head, the two men also shot glances at you and one another.
“So… elephant in the room.” You quipped as you carefully bit a Jamaican patty and chewed it. That prompted both the men to look at you. “What’s going on?” You asked them.
“We both enjoyed our time with you.” Simon answered quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it startled Kyle.
“So you both wanted to hangout with me?” You asked as you looked between the two of them.
“We both like you.” Simon continued in his round of honesty. Kyle’s head snapped toward Simon, brown eyes widened. Simon was, however, completely absorbed in his meal.
Kyle was pretty sure he was right when he joked that you had Ghost under some sort of spell. Never had he seen Simon be so open and honest. Direct, sure, Ghost was always directly. But… sincere like this? Never.
“I like you both too.” You replied in earnest as you took another bite of your food.
“Not like that, sweetheart.” Simon replied and finally glanced over at you while dusting off his fingers on a napkin. “I mean we’d both date you if we could.”
“Oh.” Your eyes widened a bit and you blinked away the shock. 
The way Ghost looked at you… That’s when he finally understood what he had meant when he spoke about you. There was a fondness in those usually cold, dead brown eyes… 
Kyle felt like he was intruding. Like it was wrong of him to be weaseling his way in between the two of you out of some childish claim he claimed to have over you… Because the way Simon made him understand how good you were for him.
He sat in a relaxed way, legs sprawled, thigh touching yours, wearing clothes he could’ve sworn Ghost would never even own, and you never once flinched in his presence. Granted, you weren’t aware of all the blood in his hands, in their hands… But you acted as if Ghost was just some bloke you were dating and not.. well… Ghost.
“Kyle?” Simon quipped and it finally rose him out of his thoughts.
“Hm? Sorry?” He asked, noticing he had spaced out.
“I asked if you two were jealous of one another and that’s why you’re so tense.” You repeated yourself. “Simon said he wouldn’t call it ‘jealousy’.”
Kyle and Simon shot each other a glance, as if wordlessly communicating. It was something they were used to doing in the field, but this was a completely different circumstance. 
Sighing, Gaz shifted around in his seat. “I wouldn’t call it jealousy either… But…” He trailed off. “Well, I saw how… how happy you make Simon.” He admitted.
Simon’s eyes, which had momentarily hardened, softened again as Kyle spoke. “And well… you made me… feel it too. It’s… easy to be around you. Easy to spend time laughing with you and always want more.” The younger man continued.
Your own eyes softened too and your cheeks warmed up a bit with his kind words. “So in a way I felt like… well… like I deserved to try to date you too.” He explained. “But it’s tense because, well, neither of us want to share.”
With a chuckle, you leaned back against the couch and covered your mouth with your hand. “Shared? What am I… some video game?” You joked. “Are you going to go to your mum to tattle when the other doesn’t let you have enough time with me?” You teased.
Immediately, all tension was gone, both of them rolling their eyes and scoffing. “Shut it, you.” Simon grumbled, amused.
“Most people would be honored to have two guys want to date them, you know?” Gaz remarked.
“Fuck that, most people would be honored to have me want to date them.” Simon quipped.
“Oh, you get down from your high horse!” You scolded him and nudged him with your arm, which made Simon chuckle.
“After this, we could watch a movie!” You announced as you resumed eating your Jamaican patty. 
“Good idea.” Simon praised you.
“Not another horror movie.” You added.
“You have very bad taste.” He quipped.
Strangely enough, watching you bicker with Simon only made Kyle feel warmer than he already did. He still felt like he was intruding but… the bickering was familiar. He saw that often between Johnny and Simon…
“How can I have bad taste? I literally like you both.” You remarked.
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grimmweepers · 24 days
Text
— ☆ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when you fall ill, alhaitham takes care of you for the first time and you enjoy the gentle way he shows his love when he thinks you aren’t watching
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader. sfw. fluff. sick reader (nothing serious). established relationship. i get a bit yappy about him, sorry! 1k wc. masterlist | byf/dni
this piece is a submission for a flufftober event by spookuna ♡
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
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You lay on your side, feeling the warmth of Sumeru’s balmy sun kissing your skin as it cascaded through the windows. The faint ticking of a clock on the wall filled the quiet room while soft footsteps moved around you. 
Alhaitham. 
You could have sworn he told you he was going to leave once he readied your breakfast so you were surprised he was still here. He was careful as his feet shuffled on the floor, avoiding waking you, but his attempts at silence only made him more pronounced. 
The clink of a glass on your nightstand, the rustles of fabric that eventually dissolved to murmurs— these were the sounds you had become hyper-aware of in your pretend slumber. 
Truth is, you’d been awake for the last half hour but your eyes remained closed out of curiosity about what he would be up to when he thought you weren’t looking.
Your body felt heavy, and not just from the illness that plagued you, but from the weight of blankets he had tucked you in earlier. His attention was soothing, yet as he hovered around you, you sensed a bit of uncertainty in his movements that you found quite endearing.
Alhaitham was not one for overt displays of affection but this unspoken care was so entirely him. 
The bed dipped as he sat down and you heard a sigh escape him. It was foreign in its gentleness and spilled out of him like there was much on his mind. 
Was he… watching you? 
You were tempted to open your eyes and catch him in the act, but something told you to wait. For a moment, nothing happened until the sheets beneath you shifted.
Then, you felt it— a barely-there touch to your forehead. His fingers felt familiar and comforting while he checked your temperature, the pad of his thumb tracing light circles that made your heart ache in the sweetest way. How did it feel, you wondered, to be so utterly indifferent to the world and then to finally let his guard down around you?
It wasn’t long before you found your answer.
“You should take better care of yourself,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a hint of frustration in his tone but underneath it was also something softer, more protective. “It’s unsettling seeing you this way.”
You pictured what his expression would be— furrowed brows and narrowing eyes while he tries to make sense of the emotions he’s not used to always showing. But if he knew you were awake, you’d tell him that he didn’t need to hide.
The gentle touch on your forehead moved to your cheeks, then traced the outline of your jaw, deliberately highlighting all the little features he had grown to love over the many months. 
“It’s quieter without you,” he said, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Alhaitham knew it was a bit absurd to be talking to himself but without your voice there was nothing to fill the silence. There was a faint chuckle in his words— he was beginning to understand what you meant when you told him ‘everyone is foolish when they are in love’.
You heard him shift again, and then you felt something against your lips— a light, fleeting kiss so delicate you almost thought you imagined it. But the ghost of his touch lingerered and it took almost everything in you to not break the illusion of sleep. 
He held you as if you were something precious and fragile to him but, to your dismay, he pulled away just as quickly as he had leaned in, and his immediate absence left you internally pouting.
The bed suddenly felt lighter and soon the realisation of him retreating toward the door started creeping in. But just before he stepped out, he paused.
Unbeknownst to you, he cast a sideways glance in your direction, wondering how much longer he would have to wait before you stirred. Or how much longer he had to keep talking to himself despite your telltale flinches while he caressed you.
You weren’t as sneaky as you thought so, yes, he noticed.
“It would be a shame if you remained asleep so might I tempt to wake you up and spend time with me in another way?” He called from where he was standing.
Even in your poorly state, you broke into a smile and finally let your eyes flutter open. Without hesitation and with a little triumph in his stride, Alhaitham returned to your bed, resting his hand on the blanket cocoon he had left you in. 
Before he met you, Alhaitham believed that his simple life was full and complete. Then you came along and made him realise what he had been missing all that time. You have done a lot for him but more than that, you’ve undone a lot for him, like allowing him to let go of his rigid control and embrace vulnerability.
The man who once had given you no more than a small and polite ‘Hello’ when you were acquaintances was now tending to you with such warmth that you didn’t need to hear words to feel the depths of his care— it radiated from every quiet gesture. 
Sometimes you forget that people don’t see Alhaitham the same way you do. He is stubborn, unpredictable and speaks abstrusely but to you, he is a source of unwavering support. Always in the background with a stoic but reliable presence— like a testament for the patience you’ve nurtured him with.
However, at the end of the day, you cannot describe what is indescribable and you cannot explain what there is to love about him unless you love him yourself.
“You know,” you began as your fingers slipped into his hair, “You shouldn’t have kissed me. You’ll only end up getting sick.”
“I’ll survive,” he replied with a slight shrug, dipping his head towards your lips again, “It’s a small price I’ll pay.”
And in that moment you understood that this was his way of saying he loved and missed you. Not in grand declarations but in the way he stayed, the way he cared, and the way he was always there, silently holding your world together.
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a/n: i kept getting distracted while writing this because i love him so much he makes me sick.
© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.
affiliations: @houseofsolisoccasum & @nereidsrealm
divider by @/attxnt
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1-800-imagines · 7 months
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bikini | r.c.
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series masterlist here
read more of my obx fics here
“come on, y/n. let’s go to the bonfire.” sarah suggested as the two of you sat outside of her house. of course sarah was already in a bikini, but you on the other hand had come straight from work. 
“i don’t have a swimsuit.” you said, putting a hand over your eyes to block the sun. “and i dont wanna go all the way back to my house.”
“you can wear one of mine! pretty please.” she said in a sing song voice. you knew sarah wanted to go see john b and you had to come along so she had a ‘cover’ but you didn’t mind. 
you jokingly rolled your eyes. “yeah, alright. anything for you.”
her face lit up and she pulled out her phone, probably to text john b that the two of you were coming. 
with sarah engrossed in her phone, you stood up and walked inside to go to sarah’s room to change. you walked up the stairs and into sarah’s room, leaving the door ajar. you didn’t think anyone else was there and even so, you’d only be a minute. 
you knew exactly where sarah’s swimsuits were as you had borrowed them your entire life. you probably only actually owned one. 
you pulled a pink one out and shimmied out of your pants, pulling the bottoms on. 
you took off your shirt and bra, ready to put the top on, but the clasp was being difficult. 
“goddamit sarah. where the fuck did you put my-“ the door had been shoved open and rafe had stormed in, swearing. 
rafe didn’t even realize what he was seeing at first. you had dropped the top to the floor in an attempt to just cover your chest up with your hands. 
“oh shit, sorry. i- uh.” rafe stumbled through his words. and rafe did not stumble. the truth was he thought you were beautiful but seeing you topless just made his pants tighten. he couldn’t help but look. 
“fuck rafe, you almost gave me a heart attack.” you said, a blush creeping up your cheeks. 
rafe turned his head, “i didn’t know you were here, m’sorry.” he shook his head and turned to walk out. 
“wait rafe.”
those two words stopped his heart. he turned back to see your face scrunched up and eyes closed for a moment - trying to rid the embarrassment. 
“i can’t get the clasp unhooked.” you motioned your head down to the floor not wanting to move your arms and risk him seeing anything else. 
rafe didn’t know what to say so he kneeled down to pick it up. your breathe caught - he was so close to you and boy did he look good on his knees. you bit your lip and tried to look away. 
he stood up, now him towering over you. “turn around.” he said softly as he undid the clasp with a certain ease. 
you followed directions immediately and rafe had to bite his lip to keep from groaning - you had listened. he couldn’t stop his mind from thinking if you’d be like that in bed. 
“i won’t look. promise.” he mumbled and handing you the now open top. 
you blushed again, wishing he wanted to look. 
you secured it on but there was still the issue of the clasp. “can you help me again?” you asked quietly. 
rafe grinned and brushed your hair to one side of your shoulder, “course i can, sweetheart.”
sweetheart. one word that made your knees almost buckle. you shivered a little when he touched your skin. 
once the swimsuit was secured, you turned around and smiled at him, “thank you.” you got on your tippy toes and kissed his cheek. 
slightly embarrassed still, your feet fell flat to the ground and you looked down.
rafe leant down to your ear and whispered, “don’t be ashamed. you’re fucking gorgeous.”
that certainly didn’t help the flush you were already feeling. you bit your lip and rafe's hand went to cup your cheek. he tilted your chin up so you were looking at him and his thumb grazed your lower lip. 
you gasped slightly and opened your mouth. “rafe, i-uh-“ you couldn’t speak. your thoughts a jumbled mess. 
his thumb then ever so subtly slid into your mouth and grazed your bottom teeth. 
you sucked in a breath and he smiled then saying, “i’ll see you at the party, yeah?” 
all you could do was nod as his thumb grazed both your lips once more until he turned and walked away leaving your heart hammering. 
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part 2 is the partyyyyyy - comment to be tagged in the next part
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novaursa · 10 days
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Broken by War (Continuation)
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Requests are closed!
- Summary: Aemond kneels before your mother, for you.
- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen
- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The main list is pinned to the top.
- Rating: Mature 16+
- Previous part: 1
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne
- A/N: Is this another unexpected post? Yes. Yes it is.
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The sky outside rumbles as a dark shadow passes over Dragonstone. You watch from a window, heart heavy as Vhagar descends, wings outstretched like a stormcloud. The sea itself seems to bow beneath the ancient dragon's power, the waves thrashing against the rocks as if trying to claw their way to safety. But it isn’t the dragon that makes your chest tighten with unease—it’s him.
Aemond Targaryen, your uncle.
The heavy doors to the Great Hall are thrown open, and you see him dragged inside by two guards, his eye glaring defiantly despite the bruises on his face and the blood staining his tunic. His silver hair, once so perfect, is now disheveled, tangled with dirt and salt from the sea air. You can’t help but feel the pull in your chest, your worry for him rising above the rage boiling in the room.
Your mother, Rhaenyra, stands tall at the head of the hall, surrounded by your brothers. Her face is like stone, regal, unyielding, but you can see the storm brewing behind her eyes. Daemon lurks behind her, hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, ready to strike if she gives the word.
Aemond is thrown to his knees before her, and you step forward instinctively. Your gaze locks onto his, and for a brief moment, the tension of the room melts away. In his eye, you see something you had not expected—remorse, pleading, and something deeper, something that reaches back into your shared childhood. His lips part, and though his voice is raw, he speaks with conviction.
“Your Grace,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion as he keeps his head bowed, "I do not come to you as a prince of the greens, nor as the son of my mother... but as a man who has loved your daughter from the days we were children."
Rhaenyra's eyes narrow. “And yet you killed my son,” she hisses, venom lacing every word. Her hand clenches into a fist, her nails biting into her palm. The room tenses, the weight of Lucerys’ death still fresh in every heart.
You hold your breath. Your brothers shift uncomfortably, their rage palpable, but they do not move. Daemon’s grip on his sword tightens, his expression dark.
Aemond looks up, his face a mixture of desperation and grief. "I beg you to understand. What happened with Lucerys… it was not meant to be. It was an accident, Your Grace. A tragedy I cannot undo, no matter how deeply I wish I could. But I cannot kill her." His eye moves to you, and you feel the raw truth of his words pierce your heart. “I was ordered to, by my mother and grandsire. They sent me here to strike her down. But I cannot. I would rather die at your hands than harm her.”
Rhaenyra’s expression softens ever so slightly, but her voice remains firm. “You think your love for her erases the blood on your hands? You think I should spare you, after what you’ve done to my family?”
Aemond kneels lower, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor. His voice shakes, but his determination does not waver. "I ask not for your forgiveness, Your Grace, for I do not deserve it. But I swear to you—on my honor, on my blood—I will serve her. I will protect her, with my life if need be. I cannot kill her because... she is my heart. She has always been.”
Your breath hitches, a warmth spreading through your chest. Memories flood back—of a time when you and Aemond were children, playing together in the Red Keep. His laughter, the softness in his violet eyes when he looked at you, even then. You had both been too young to understand what it meant, but now, here, the weight of it is undeniable.
Rhaenyra steps forward, her eyes flicking to you. “Is this what you want?” she asks, her tone cautious, but there’s a hint of something more—fear, perhaps, that you might choose the son of her enemy.
You swallow, your gaze never leaving Aemond. He looks up at you, his face filled with an unspoken plea, a fragile hope that maybe you might still see the boy you once knew. And you do. Despite everything, you see him. The man who loved you, the boy who never stopped.
“I...” You falter, the words caught in your throat. The air feels too thick, the weight of everyone's gaze too heavy. But when you finally speak, your voice is steady. “I cannot deny that I still care for him, mother.”
Rhaenyra’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes flashing with pain. She closes her eyes for a moment, as if weighing the burden of her next decision. When she opens them, her gaze is locked on Aemond.
“Do not think for a moment this means I trust you, Aemond,” she says coldly. “But for her sake, I will spare you.” She steps back, but her voice hardens once more. “If you betray her, if you harm her in any way, I will not hesitate to make sure your life ends in fire and blood.”
Aemond bows his head again, the weight of the moment clear in his trembling voice. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will not fail her."
As the tension in the room loosens slightly, you step forward, closer to Aemond. He rises slowly, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. His hand reaches out, hesitating before lightly brushing your arm, his touch warm and familiar.
“I would have died before hurting you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter.
You don’t respond, not with words, but your eyes say enough. There's no simple forgiveness here, no erasing the past, but in this fragile moment, something rekindles. A silent understanding, a promise made long ago that somehow, against all odds, still endures.
And outside, as Vhagar rests near the cliffs, Vermithor watches from the heights of Dragonstone, the two ancient beasts as much a part of your fate as the blood that runs through your veins.
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