#Side C| Outburst

[hayatheauthor]

The Anatomy of Punching a Character in the Face

Punching scenes are a staple of action sequences in many genres. Whether it’s an intense brawl, a quick defense, or an emotional outburst, a punch can carry a lot of weight both physically and narratively. As a writer, it’s essential to understand what really happens when a fist meets a face—from the immediate impact to the longer-lasting effects on both the person getting punched and the one throwing the punch.

This guide will help you craft authentic, detailed, and believable punch scenes by exploring different areas of the face, types of punches, and the aftermath of such an impact.

1. Target Areas of the Face and Their Vulnerabilities

A punch isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Depending on where the fist lands, the consequences will vary significantly. Different parts of the face have varying levels of vulnerability, and targeting these areas produces different effects, from knockouts to broken bones.

A. Jawline: The Knockout Zone

The jawline is a classic target in many fight scenes, especially when knockout punches are involved. This area is highly vulnerable because a hit here causes the head to snap to the side, leading to a sharp rotational movement of the brain inside the skull. This movement disrupts the brain’s communication and often results in a temporary loss of consciousness—what we commonly refer to as a "knockout."

Common Effects: Dislocation or fracture of the jaw, loss of consciousness, slurred speech, and severe pain.

Visual Aftermath: Swelling around the jawline, bruising, and possible misalignment of the jaw if broken.

B. Nose: Breaking and Bleeding

The nose is another vulnerable target, known for being easily broken. It’s not just a fragile bone structure, but it’s also connected to many blood vessels, meaning a direct punch to the nose often results in immediate bleeding. The nasal bone can fracture, causing difficulty in breathing, and in some cases, the nose may need surgical intervention to reset.

Common Effects: Intense pain, bleeding, difficulty breathing, potential for a broken nose.

Visual Aftermath: Blood running from the nostrils, swelling, and significant bruising around the nose and eyes.

C. Cheekbones (Zygomatic Bones): Bruising and Fractures

The cheekbones are one of the more solid structures in the face but are still susceptible to breaks, particularly from a heavy blow. Damage here can lead to not just bruising, but potentially severe injuries that can affect the entire facial structure.

Common Effects: Fractures of the zygomatic bone, swelling, bruising, and pain extending to the eye socket.

Visual Aftermath: Black eyes, noticeable swelling on one side of the face, and a sunken appearance if the bone is fractured.

D. Forehead: A Hard Target

The forehead is much harder than most parts of the face and is less vulnerable to severe damage. However, punches to the forehead can still cause pain, disorientation, and dazing of the recipient. While it’s less likely to result in a knockout, it’s effective in dazing an opponent, especially if the puncher’s goal is to create an opening for another strike.

Common Effects: Swelling, redness, and potential concussions if hit with enough force.

Visual Aftermath: Redness, minimal bruising, and a dazed expression.

E. Eyes: Black Eyes and Swelling

A punch to the eyes is particularly brutal because the area around the eyes is delicate, and the skin is thin. It’s not just about swelling but also potential damage to the orbital bones. The impact can cause "black eyes," characterized by intense bruising and swelling that may close the eye shut for days.

Common Effects: Swelling, black eyes, potential orbital bone fractures, temporary blurred vision.

Visual Aftermath: Discoloration that starts purple and turns yellowish-green as it heals, swollen shut eyes.

2. Types of Punches

Not all punches are created equal. The type of punch thrown can drastically change the outcome of the scene, both in terms of damage and realism. Understanding these different types of punches will allow you to convey more varied and dynamic fight sequences.

A. Jab: Speed and Precision

A jab is a quick, straight punch, usually thrown with the non-dominant hand. It’s not meant to be a knockout punch but more of a setup punch to create an opening or keep the opponent at a distance. Jabs are fast and can be disorienting, especially if they repeatedly land in quick succession.

Common Effects: Light bruising, potential cuts, and swelling in the area hit.

B. Cross: Power and Impact

The cross is a powerful, straight punch delivered with the dominant hand. It’s often aimed at vulnerable spots like the jaw or nose. Unlike a jab, the cross is meant to deliver a significant amount of force, and when landed properly, it can cause serious damage.

Common Effects: Knockouts, broken bones, severe swelling, and bruising.

C. Hook: Lateral Devastation

A hook is a wide, circular punch that targets the side of the head, particularly the jaw or temple. It’s one of the most powerful punches and is often used with the intent of knocking the opponent out.

Common Effects: Knockouts, severe disorientation, potential for concussions, and jaw dislocations.

D. Uppercut: Lifting from Below

The uppercut is thrown upward, usually aimed at the chin. It’s a devastating punch that can lift the opponent’s head and jolt their brain, leading to knockouts. Uppercuts are especially dangerous when they land cleanly on the jaw or chin.

Common Effects: Knockouts, broken teeth, jaw fractures, and disorientation.

E. Haymaker: Risky but Powerful

A haymaker is a wild, swinging punch delivered with as much force as possible. It’s often thrown with reckless abandon and is easy to dodge, but if it connects, it can deal significant damage. Because of its wide arc, it leaves the puncher exposed to counterattacks.

Common Effects: Knockouts, severe bruising, and possible fractures if landed correctly.

3. Punch Wounds: What They Look Like and Healing

Punches to the face leave lasting marks, some immediately visible and others taking days to fully form. Understanding the aftermath of a punch will help you describe the physical toll on your characters more accurately.

A. Immediate Effects

Swelling and Redness: Swelling can begin almost instantly, particularly in areas with soft tissue like the eyes and lips.

Bruising: Bruises start off as red, then turn purple, blue, and eventually fade into yellow or green as they heal.

Bleeding: Punches to the nose, lips, and even cheeks can result in bleeding, either from the skin breaking or from internal damage like a broken nose.

B. Long-Term Injuries

Black Eyes: Punches near the eyes can lead to bruising that darkens the skin around the eyes, giving it a purplish hue.

Fractures: Broken bones, such as the nose or jaw, may require weeks to heal, and in severe cases, surgery may be necessary.

Scarring: If the skin is cut open, there’s the potential for scarring, especially if stitches are required.

C. Healing Process

Bruises: These typically take about a week to two weeks to heal, with the colors shifting as the body absorbs the blood trapped under the skin.

Fractures: Healing from fractures can take several weeks to months, depending on the severity.

Swelling: Swelling can last anywhere from a few hours to a few days, with cold compresses helping to reduce it.

4. How the Punch Affects the Puncher

While we often focus on the person receiving the punch, it’s important to remember that throwing a punch can also take a toll on the puncher.

A. Physical Strain

Knuckle Damage: Hitting a hard surface, like a jaw or forehead, can cause damage to the puncher’s knuckles. This is known as a “boxer’s fracture,” where the small bones in the hand break due to impact.

Wrist Injury: If the punch is not aligned correctly, the wrist can absorb too much force, leading to sprains or breaks.

Fatigue: After multiple punches, especially in a drawn-out fight, the puncher can become fatigued, leading to less powerful or accurate strikes.

B. Emotional and Psychological Effects

Adrenaline Rush: For inexperienced fighters, throwing a punch can lead to an adrenaline surge, which can cause tunnel vision or reckless behavior.

Moral Conflict: If the puncher is not used to violence, they may experience guilt or shock at the damage they’ve caused, especially if the recipient is significantly injured.

5. Psychological Impact of Receiving a Punch

A punch to the face doesn’t only cause physical damage. For the recipient, it can have a lasting psychological effect, especially if the punch was unexpected or in a vulnerable situation. Writing this aspect adds depth to your characters and shows that a punch is more than just physical pain.

A. Shock and Fear

Fight or Flight Response: Getting punched can immediately trigger a fight-or-flight reaction. Some characters might freeze or retreat, especially if they’ve never been in a physical altercation before.

Loss of Confidence: For characters not used to violence, being punched in the face may cause a significant loss of confidence. They may question their own strength, bravery, or ability to defend themselves.

Increased Aggression: Alternatively, the punch may trigger a rage-fueled response, pushing the character into aggressive, reckless action.

B. Embarrassment and Humiliation

Public Fights: If the punch occurs in front of others, there’s often an added layer of humiliation. Characters might feel embarrassed, even if they weren’t at fault.

Internalizing the Event: The recipient of the punch may carry the emotional impact for a long time, replaying the event in their mind, feeling shame, or seeking revenge.

C. Post-Traumatic Stress

Lingering Anxiety: In extreme cases, receiving a punch can cause anxiety or even post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Characters who’ve experienced significant trauma might relive the event through flashbacks or become hyper-vigilant, avoiding confrontations in the future.

Fear of Future Confrontations: A character who’s been severely beaten might actively avoid scenarios where they could be hit again, making them overly cautious or paranoid.

6. Writing Tips: Making It Believable

Writing a punch scene isn't just about describing the physical action. To make the moment believable and impactful, you’ll need to consider various elements—from pacing and sensory details to character psychology and aftermath. Here’s how to make your punch scenes authentic:

A. Build Tension Before the Punch

Foreshadowing Conflict: Build up the tension before the punch is thrown. Is the character agitated? Are there verbal warnings or body language that suggests things are escalating? By slowly ramping up the tension, the eventual punch feels earned and inevitable.

Use Dialogue: A heated exchange of words can make a punch more meaningful. If the punch follows a particularly cutting remark or threat, it adds weight to the action.

B. Focus on Sensory Details

Physical Sensations: Describe not just the punch itself, but how it feels. Does the skin split? Does the puncher’s knuckles scrape against teeth or bone? Is there an immediate sting or delayed throbbing pain?

Sound: The sound of a punch can enhance the realism of the scene. A dull thud as a fist connects with soft tissue, the crack of a bone breaking, or the splatter of blood hitting the floor are all effective auditory details.

C. Show Immediate and Delayed Reactions

Physical Reaction: After being punched, characters rarely shake it off immediately. Staggering, falling, or momentarily losing their vision are realistic reactions. You can also show how the puncher feels—did their hand hurt from the impact?

Emotional Fallout: Punches are often emotional events. Show how your characters feel right after—whether it’s satisfaction, regret, or shock. The emotional weight of a punch can be just as impactful as the physical consequences.

D. Consider the Aftermath

Healing Process: Don’t forget that punches have a lasting impact. A black eye will take days to heal, and a broken nose could require medical attention. Characters might have to deal with soreness, swelling, or difficulty talking and eating.

Ongoing Tension: A punch can dramatically shift relationships. A once-trusting friendship could be shattered, or a bitter rivalry could be born. Make sure to carry the emotional weight of the punch forward in your story.

7. Common Misconceptions About Punching

Many writers fall into the trap of perpetuating unrealistic portrayals of punches. These misconceptions can make your scenes feel less authentic or overly cinematic. Here’s how to avoid them.

A. The Myth of the "Clean Knockout"

Reality: A punch to the jaw might cause a knockout, but it’s not always instant. In real life, knockouts are often messy and unpredictable. The recipient might stagger or struggle before finally losing consciousness, and they could wake up with serious concussions, memory loss, or nausea.

B. Punches Always Cause Immediate Bleeding

Reality: While a punch to the nose often causes immediate bleeding, not all punches result in visible blood. Even when skin splits, it might take a moment for blood to pool and become visible. Bruising and swelling often take hours to fully appear.

C. Punching Doesn’t Always Lead to a Win

Reality: Throwing a punch doesn’t guarantee victory. The puncher could hurt themselves, miss entirely, or end up escalating a fight they weren’t prepared for. Additionally, punches to the forehead or temple might not have the knockout effect portrayed in movies—they could just make the puncher’s hand hurt more than the opponent.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[jenosbigtoe]

okay so I've been thinking...

you're dating nomin and jeno was fucking you while jaemin was getting groceries. jeno though it would be a good idea if you would call jaemin to see if he could notice.

(IDK WHY BUT SOME KIND OF IDEA LIKE TJAT HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR FOREVER😫)

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: lee jeno x reader x na jaemin

warnings: poly nomin, phone sex (kinda), unprotected sex, daddy kink

a/n: when i tell you when this came in my inbox 😵 i almost passed away

“stop fucking moving.”

jeno hisses into your ear as his hips drill into yours from the back relentlessly. he has you trapped underneath him, his thick arms locking you into place to keep you from squirming out of his grip. your throat is almost raw from the moans spilling out of your mouth with every thrust of his cock. as he continues to pound your abused cunt, you arch your back and push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

“fuck- daddy go faster,” you whine.

the feeling of every ridge and every vein on his thick cock rubbing against your gummy walls and his heavy balls slapping against your clit with every thrust left your legs shaking and core tingling with intense euphoria. you don’t even hear the phone ring and vibrate on the nightstand until jeno holds the phone’s blaring ringtone right next to your ear.

“answer it,” he rasps.

your mind is numb with pleasure and you can barely register what is going on. “w-what?” you gasp out.

he doesn’t relent his thrusts, continuing to pound your pussy like he was trying to break you in half. “i said answer the phone.”

he gives a particularly sharp thrust to your cunt, reaching his cock deep into your walls and kissing your womb. a shock wave shoots up your body, causing you to scream out in pleasure. before you can even give a reply, he’s always swiping the answer button.

“hey dude,” he answers. but he doesn’t stop fucking you, still thrusting his cock in and out of your poor little cunt in a steady rhythm. “yeah she’s right here. wanna talk to her?”

you panic, shaking your head no no no but he puts on the phone on speaker and places it next to you anyways.

“hi baby” a familiar voice calls out from the other side of the screen.

you want to freak out. “daddy, please,” you whimper quietly. you turn around to face your boyfriend from behind you with a desperate look on your face.

but he’s already grinning back at you with an evil look on his face as he places the phone next to your face. he continues to thrust his hips into yours, tightening his grip on your body to keep you from even thinking about getting away. he mouths to you, it’s just jaemin, baby. you can talk to him. he’s your boyfriend too.

“hello? baby are you there?”

your mind is a mess and you can hardly think straight enough to decide what to do next. “y-yes? why d-did you call, jaem? did you need something?”

“well i called because i’m at the grocery store. i know i ate the last of your favorite oreos and i promised to buy you more but they’re out of the kind you like. which flavor should i get instead? they have birthday cake, java chip, mint, ooooh snickerdoodle that sounds good, um-“

jeno’s hand snakes down to your throbbing core, rubbing your clit as he fucks your hole. you bite your lip and try to breathe through your nose, holding back moans threatening to spill out into the phone.

“fuck, that’s fine th-that’s fine!” you cut him off. you pussy clenches around jeno’s length, squeezing him as punishment for putting you in this position. the combination of his hand on your clit and his cock in your pussy is driving you crazy, sending waves of pleasure from your core to every nerve in your body.

you can hear the confusion in his voice at your outburst. “um, baby, i said I’m sorry for eating them. i mean-“

jeno’s hips deliver a particular sharp thrust straight into your cunt, completely bottoming out and reaching even deeper than before. you yelp, caught off guard and unable to hold back.

“j-jaemin just get whatever! i don’t c-care, fuck,” you try to steady your breathing but with jeno’s cock pumping in and out of you and bringing you closer to your climax, you can hardly even think straight.

between jeno’s thrusts and his work on your clit, your orgasm crashes over your senses like an earth shattering wave, filling your body with pure euphoria. your hips shake erratically and your cunt clenches around his thrusting cock uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm. he continues to fuck you through your climax, relishing in the way your cunt drips around his cock and squeezes him so deliciously with your release.

from the way jeno’s length starts to twitch against your walls, you know he’s close. his thrusts go from strong and steady to fast and erratic as he desperately chases his orgasm.

the phone has been silent for a while and you think jaemin has already hung up.

until you hear him say “did you really think i didn’t know what you were doing this entire time? what you sound like when you’re getting your pussy fucked? like i don’t know that you only call us daddy when we’re fucking you like the dumb slut you are? open the fucking door i’m already home.”

[jezabelle9299]

Read My Diary S.R x FEM! Reader

Overture- Spencer comes home to you sitting on the floor mid-closet cleanout reading a book he's never seen before. Also I only wrote one entry because I could not for the life of me think of another one.

C-W's- Kissing, yearning, general pining. And one use of Y/N

A/N- I wrote this on a whim to get my mind off a job interview tomorrow so if you hate it please don't tell me!

March 23- Spencer was so sweet today. He read over my shoulder, and all I could think about was how stupid happy he makes me. And yet– we aren’t together. Penelope thinks he likes me,  and I really wish I could believe her, but he doesn’t see me that way. No matter how much I want him to.

But now of course, you were together. And he was still making you stupid happy, and Penelope was right as always. So you giggled to yourself as you read through the rest of the entries. You, pining for Spencer, the excitement of your first date, until just about the first time you said ‘I love you’ and you stopped writing. Anything you wanted to say you could just tell him, you didn’t have to write it down anymore. 

“What are you reading…on the floor?” You looked up and couldn’t believe you didn’t hear the door open. You knew he was coming home, so you were just trying to bide time by cleaning out your closet. You got distracted by an old diary you hadn’t written in for months and ended up settled on the floor of your bedroom. 

Spencer was confused, both by the fact that you were on the floor, and by the fact you were surrounded by old clothes you hardly ever wore, reading a book he’d never seen before. And even more curious at what had gotten you so wrapped up you apparently didn’t hear him come in. Whenever you got that into a book, you always told him about it. Every detail of what you liked about it, and he’d listen to every word. But instead of lighting up and telling him everything, you got sheepish and replied with a sing-songy “Nothing”. He gave you a skeptical look, but left it at that. 

He set his things down to join you on the floor, reading over your shoulder like he always does. What was once an excuse to get close to you, looking at case files together, became a show of just how much he loves you. But when he kissed you on the cheek and you looked down, realizing what he was about to read, all rational thought was out the window. On instinct you threw the book through the open doorway and halfway down the hall, and because that wasn’t enough you even screamed “No!”

Spencer just shifted to look at your face from his position behind you, trying to figure out what that outburst was. “Would you like to tell me what that was about?” But instead of answering the question, you just turned around, propping yourself up and putting your knees on either side of his legs before settling into his lap. Of course, because you loved to be close to your amazing boyfriend, but also to essentially anchor him to the floor. 

“So babe–” You put your arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek to hopefully distract him. “Wanna go for a walk? Ooo! Or we could go to the movies!! You love the movies.” He laughed, but you knew you hadn’t gotten away with it. 

“I do love the movies, but I think I’d love even more if you told me why you’re so upset because of the idea of me reading that. You don’t have to tell me what it is, or let me read it of course. But what made you so upset that you had to throw it?”

It would be so much easier to lie to him if he was a worse boyfriend. But no, he had to be one of the most sweet, intelligent, caring people you knew. 

“Spencer, you know I don’t keep secrets from you. It’s not that, but–” You let out a melodramatic sigh as you buried your face in his shoulder. “If you read that you’ll think I’m so insanely, remarkably, dorky you’ll never want to go out with me again.” It was all he could do not to laugh. You were embarrassed, but you were also being completely ridiculous. The idea that anything on this Earth could make him love you less was laughable. And the idea that you would be too dorky for him? Of all people? Utterly insane. 

“Hey Y/N? Darling? Love of my life? Have you realized who you’re talking to? I love you more than anything, and the idea that you could be too dorky for me is as adorable as it is absurd.” 

“It’s an old diary… there’s– there’s yearning. For you specifically, and you’ll think I’m crazy and weird.” He laughed into your shoulder, and distracted you by kissing from your shoulder to your collarbone, before gently pulling you from his lap to set you down next to him. Then while you still had your eyes closed, he got up. He got up, and ran to go read the thing that you thought could ever make him love you any less. 

He opened up to a random page near the beginning and there it was. Everything that he thought you’d never noticed before you started dating, laid out on the page. Things he couldn’t stand about himself, you talked about with love before he’d even gotten the courage to ask you out. You thought that he didn’t like you back, and he wished he’d written down his feelings so that you could read about how he loved you before he could even think of telling you. He knew no matter how many times he told you, you’d never realize just how deeply you were ingrained in his very soul. 

And by the time he decided he was done reading, clearing half of the pages in just a few minutes, you had gotten on the bed, and buried your face –along with your shame– in the pillows. He gently rubbed your back to let you know he was done. “Hey honey? Do you want to come out of the pillows now?” And you just shook your head, not quite ready to face him yet.

“Ok, stay in there as long as you like, but for the record I would love to see your beautiful face. Now I’ve only read a bit of this, but I can say with 100% certainty that I don’t think you are weird, crazy, or dorky. I love you and I don’t love you any less because you loved me while I was too stupid and insecure to ask you out.” That finally got you to sit up and look at him. He didn’t freak out, or run, or decide that you were so totally lame that he could no longer be with you. 

“I love you too”

“Hey look at that, she’s back.” And he moved your hair behind your shoulder so that he could see your face. 

“No you tricked me with affection, you don’t get to tease me yet.” 

“You’re right. And for the record– I wish that I’d written down my feelings for you so that you could see how much I’ve always loved you.” He kissed all over your face, quick pecks to show you how much he meant what he was saying. 

“Well I’ll just have to see what secret shames are in the back of your closet, and we can call it even.” 

“Deal.”  

[runnning-outof-time]

Congratulations, I adore your story!!

Could you please do 23 with angst and then fluff? Thank you so much I appreciate it!💕

Thanks so much for sending this in, anon! I’m so happy you like my stories! I decided to go with Tommy for the character and chose “I don’t want to go.” for the prompt because it was the 5 word #23. I hope you don’t mind that. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

To Keep You Safe

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: season 4 spoilers (like right from the jump), language

Word Count: 1042

Summary: (Y/N) and Tommy discuss the decision to have her go into hiding while the war with the Changrettas rages on.

Things were heating up in the vendetta between the Shelbys and the Changrettas. What both sides thought would be a quick battle had now turned into a full-on war. And after Luca managed to get to Michael in his hospital bed and try to get him to switch sides, Tommy was convinced that no one was safe.

He called a family meeting. He arranged it in the morning and it was set for that evening. The air in the room was so thick with tension that you could practically cut it with a knife. (Y/N) noted that they were currently in the midst of a thunderstorm, which she had a feeling was foreshadowing for what was to be talked about.

And oh boy was she right. Things were quiet between her and Tommy that night. Neither of the two spoke a word to the other before they both went to sleep.

(Y/N) didn’t really sleep much though. No matter how many times she wished it wouldn’t, tomorrow still came.

Soon enough, there was a man in a car sitting outside their Watery Lane home.

“I don’t want to go,” (Y/N) huffed as she crossed her arms. She was aware of how much she sounded like their three year old daughter, but she quite frankly didn’t care.

“You have to, love,” Tommy insisted, not wanting this to turn into something bigger than it had to be.

“Why?” she asked, her one eyebrow quirking upward.

“Don’t fucking start…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“You owe me a reason, Thomas. I’m not just going to be shipped off into the fucking wilderness for no fucking reason,” she harped on, sharing her feelings about the decision that had been made — essentially without her consent — the night prior.

“You know why,” he told her, insisting it was common sense.

“Enlighten me anyway,” she shrugged.

“(Y/N).”

“Tommy.”

“It’s to keep you safe!” he finally came out with it, his voice raising as his eyes went wide, showing the frustration and stress he was currently under. “It’s to keep you fucking safe.”

(Y/N) was taken back by his outburst, but she really should have expected it. She was poking a bear; a powder keg that was bound to explode sooner or later. “You’re keeping me safe here, though. And besides, it was agreed between the both of you: no civilians. No women or children,” she pointed out in a softer voice, recalling the rules of the vendetta that he’d told her a few weeks prior.

“Yeah, I know that was agreed upon,” Tommy started, nodding as a sigh escaped his lips, “but with how things are going…we need to expect everything. And I can’t have you get taken by him or his men as a way to get me. So I need you to go. Just for a little while.”

Silence fell between them as she took a minute to think things over. The last thing she wanted to do was leave Tommy’s side while all of this was going on.

“I don’t want to leave you, Tommy,” was the next thing she said. She couldn’t get through the sentence without choking up, tears brimming up in her eyelids.

Tommy exhaled a breath before he closed the short distance between them, taking her into his arms just as her body began to shake from her sobs. “It’ll just be a little while, love,” he spoke in a soft voice, his chin rested on the top of her head as he rubbed her back in a comforting manner.

They stood like that for a few minutes. (Y/N) had no shame in crying into her husband’s suit coat. She didn’t want to let him go and leave because she was afraid that this would be the last time she’d see him.

“Hey, the car’s waiting outside,” Tommy was the one to speak first. He loosened his hold on her as he did, moving his hands to her shoulders so that he could bring her out at arms length.

“I know,” (Y/N) nodded, sniffling as she wiped her tears away. “I’ll miss you, Tommy,” she added then, looking at him with watery eyes.

“I’ll miss you too, love,” he responded without a second thought, raising one hand to run it down her cheek.

“Make sure you go visit the kids for me…or at least send Pol or someone if you think it’s too risky,” she added, thinking of her children who were currently residing at her parents’ home.

“I will,” he assured her with a nod.

(Y/N) took a moment to look at her husband then, making sure she could commit every part of him to memory. She didn’t know when she’d see him next. Her bottom lip began to quiver as that thought stuck in her mind.

“It’s just a little while,” Tommy repeated what he’d said to her before.

“I know,” she nodded, holding back the tears. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated the phrase, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. (Y/N) held him there, making their embrace as long as it could possibly be. But eventually she had to pull away, and as she did, she finally decided it was time. “I should go.”

“I’ll come get you when this is finished,” he promised her, their eyes locked as he spoke.

“Just stay alive,” she said to him, sending one last smile her way before they finally broke their embrace so that she could grab her things.

Tommy ushered her outside and made sure she got into the vehicle. He then gave the driver and his accomplice strict instructions on what to do. After sending one last smile to (Y/N), he let them go and headed back inside.

He took two steps away from the door and placed his hands onto the side table sitting there so that he could brace himself as he leaned back against it. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, his family flashing in his mind. Then he released the breath he’d been holding and stared straight ahead. This vendetta would be finished soon, and he’d make damn sure of it.

**tags are in a reblog, so that hopefully the notification gets sent

MASTERLIST

[hollowdeath]

Oh hello, I just wanted to tell you that what you wrote is amazing! I read it over and over and couldn't stop reading. You are soooo amazing! *((Ugly crying😭❤️))*

And umm.. I would like to share about the imagination in my head about Dark Harry Potter. He joins the Lord Voldemort and betrayed all his friends. When the war ended, the Lord's side Voldemort wins. Everything is in chaos but Harry ignores it all because he only cares about the reader, his old girlfriend. (Harry still loves the reader even though the reader hates Harry.) He might have requested that the Lord Voldemort gave the reader as a reward to him after the war. Something like that, and ummm, a drama that is both bitter and sad and angry at the same time full of longing for each other? A rough and sad lovemaking? 🥺

hi! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: dark!harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry's all-consuming anger successfully tempts him to join voldemort in the war, sending you, his girlfriend, away in an attempt to keep you safe. years later he asks for your return, and is met with bitterness and rage as you struggle to navigate your feelings for each other in a post-war world.

c/w: smut!!! angst!! slow burn! mentions/threats of weapons, violence, abuse, and death/murder. smut is all the way at the end (grinding, oral, penetration, submissive!harry & dominant!reader) lightly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate

word count: 12.6k

a/n: this is giving me manacled x star wars and i love it lol, so so so much fun to write. i tried to make the reader more angst-y and dominant than normal, so if you like this please let me know! sorry if the plot doesn't make much sense. i also started school this week so please be patient with me! going to try and start posting shorter blurbs/headcanons between requests <3

harry was standing at a window in the lord's manor, watching the street below him as people sulked aimlessly by. it was a typical, gloomy day, the clouds gathering heavily above. it had been raining for weeks, maybe even months at this point, and it was beginning to cast a permanent gray shadow across the city. not even the weather could escape the tragedies of the war.

though harry chose to not dwell on the war, he felt its lingering effects. even from his lofty spot in the comfort of the lord's castle, which he barely left anymore. its walls had become harry's second skin. so long as he had everything delivered to him whenever he desired, it was disgusting to him to even think of stepping outside.

yet still, harry could see the abandoned and damaged shops just outside the lord's gates lining the courtyard along the cobblestone streets. the burnt remains of what once was. the sunken-in faces of the remaining people in the city. the lack of light, the lack of life, the lack of magic.

there's a part of harry, a weak cry from deep inside his repressed past, that feels bad. he was once a young wizard with bright eyes walking the streets of these same shops. he once enjoyed the sounds of shared happiness, and found solace in the fact that despite his lack of, there would always be joy in the world around him.

however, as harry grew older, and the circumstances around him shifted, he found himself getting angrier more often. not just on a weekly basis over small interactions or mistakes, but all the time, from the moment he was awoken by his nightmares to the moment he fell back into them. harry simply had no room inside of him left for anything else. it was just anger. pure, unbridled anger that only caused annoyance at first, then small outbursts of irritation after a while, and, eventually, he couldn't look at anyone or anything without wanting to physically destroy it for no reason other than he was just angry.

harry was angry at the world for having magic in it in the first place. he hated the divide it caused between muggles and non-muggles, pure bloods and half bloods. he was angry that divide is what took his parents from him before he could even properly know them. he was angry he had to grow up in abuse and neglect under the guise of 'safety'. he was angry he never received an apology, an admittance of guilt, not even a hint of closure for the past that was still controlling his present.

the boy who used to risk his life to save hogwarts and the students inside of it would eventually be the same one to let them fall.

when voldemort came back, and harry's anger was at its worst, he knew there was a connection. he didn't know about horcruxes yet and he certainly didn't know he was one. and yet he knew, somewhere deep inside him again, that it wasn't a coincidence. there was a reason his anger was consuming him, and the reason was voldemort.

after cedric's death, harry had begun to spiral. the nightmares were worse than before, he felt deathly paranoid constantly, and couldn't escape the intruding memories of the graveyard. though harry had managed well enough afterwards, still suppressing his rage, he couldn't hide the change in his personality from those closest to him. ron and hermione were the first to bring it up, but, of course, harry had snapped and told them to mind the business that pays them. despite his resistance, they tried until the very end to help their best friend see through his anger, to remember what was right and wrong.

however, once sirius was dead, it was all over.

harry had simply lost any hope that was left within him. watching sirius fall through the veil, his eyes lifeless and cold, was like watching harry himself die. he didn't think he could get any lower, and then he watched the only family he had left be cursed just within his reach.

harry was never the same after that. when he sat in bed late at night staring at the marauders map in his lap, he thought about how much he hated this life that's been made for him. the boy who lived, the scape goat, the hero, our only hope. it was crushing. harry was just a boy. he wanted to live a normal life.

but he knew he never could. not after tom riddle, not after cedric, not after sirius. even if everything went away tomorrow and harry could just attend his classes and be with his friends, nothing would change. he would still be alone, he would still be angry, and he would still suffer from his traumas. what was the point in fighting for good or living to see the end when you would always end up alone?

except, harry wasn't alone, really. he had you.

if there was one thing in this lifetime, one thing throughout this entire war that could have saved harry, it was you.

you and harry had been classmates for a year or so before really getting to know each other, and started dating not long after. when you were around, harry knew there was something worth fighting for. though he may feel angry and everything and everyone and everything everyone said, harry could never truly be mad with you. it's like when you looked at him the anger was muted, numb, deep inside him, and as soon as someone would interrupt it was bubbling at the surface again.

you were worried about harry, of course, and saw the effects his anger had on his relationships with everyone else around him. besides you.

he remembers you clearly, still to this day, and just how upset you were anytime he lashed out. if he'd felt anything other than anger at that time, it would've been guilt. guilt for hurting you, for scaring you. guilt, but not guilty enough to stop.

the anger was stronger.

even when you asked him, begged him, please, harry, please stop letting your anger win, and even when he promised, swore on his own grave, that he would try harder to stop for you, he never did.

harry was beyond angry. he was spiteful. all he had ever been was kind, a pushover who gave everyone the respect he was never graced with. he's saved strangers who wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. he's lost his family in their sacrifice for the greater good that now rested upon harry's 16 year old shoulders.

he was beginning to think the fight wasn't worth it.

not only did the fight for good no longer seem worthy to harry, the fight against it only seemed to become more enticing. why should harry continue to risk his life and sanity when there would always be fights of blood purity? why should he be the hero everyone else has always wanted him to be?

for a long time, the answer was you. you were reason enough for harry to keep fighting, to keep his anger under control. when he looked at you things made sense for just a moment, his suffering was worth it to see you alive and well. until it wasn't.

everyone has a breaking point, and harry felt like he had finally reached his. as the war had geared up to a point of no return, harry had to make a decision. he had always assumed his decision was already made for him since birth, but he soon realized he never actually had to follow this path set for him in the first place. he was free to do as he pleased. he wasn't dumbledore, he wasn't his parents, he wasn't even the hero everyone thought he was. he was angry. he was spiteful.

worse than that, harry was vengeful.

so, when he met voldemort in the woods during the battle of hogwarts to accept his death, harry instead offered him a proposal the dark lord simply couldn't refuse. harry potter, his living horcrux, would become his successor upon his death. harry would fight with and for voldemort, training to become the most powerful dark wizard in history, and to finally let tom riddle rest well knowing the world was in just as dark, evil hands as his own.

though voldemort was skeptical at first, naturally, as harry expected him to be, he could eventually see the darkness within harry nearly consuming him whole. he was as serious as death itself. he no longer had the desire within him to continue fighting for, what he saw as, a lost cause. voldemort was rather pleased with this news, though never expected harry to come around like he did. he hadn't even considered it, really. but who was he to deny his own successor?

upon harry's return to hogwarts with voldemort and his death eaters in tow, every single person who watched was stunned into silence. even mcgonagall, who had been instructing and encouraging the students all night in their fight, had become speechless and teary eyed at the sight. ron had to catch hermione, who nearly fell to the floor.

but nobody was as upset as you were.

you had already been sobbing watching harry walk off into the woods towards his own death thinking you would never see him alive again. only to watch him emerge from the same treeline with the enemy by his side. it's like you got kicked in the gut. you would've almost rather never seen harry again.

"harry!" you had screamed in a broken voice as he crossed the bridge, voldemort's snake slithering at his feet. you were running to him, breaking through the multiple arms that tried to hold you back.

voldemort tried to raise his wand to you, but harry had stopped him, telling him to let him handle it. he was suspicious at first, still not fully trusting harry's intentions just yet, but was reassured by the sinister look in his eyes.

harry looked at you. he remembers feeling a twinge of that same guilt from before, the tiniest spark of hope deep within his rage. he really did love you, at least at some point he did. you would've made all of this worth it, you would've been the reason to keep going. but not even you were reason enough anymore. for so long he had been ready to take his revenge on the world that failed him.

"harry, what are you doing?" you had asked him, voice shaking. you were almost whispering, your eyes nervously glancing towards voldemort every other second in fear for your safety. harry grabbed your hands but you pulled them back, a look of disgust coming across your face.

"come with me." harry had told you. your look of disgusted transformed into shock, anger, confusion, and guilt. there were mumblings coming from the crowd of students behind you. "what?" you had asked, nearly breathless at this point, your eyes searching him for answers.

"come with me, [y/n]. i want you by my side as i become the most powerful dark lord in the world." harry explained, taking steps towards you with an excited grin on his face, his eyes still dark with corruption. you were still in shock when he grabbed for your hands. he kissed your knuckles softly with a quiet, "i love you,"

he had meant it, but not like he used to.

it took a few moments of silence and some tense eye contact before you pulled your hands away, letting the tears fall again as you attempted to gather your words. "you can't do this, harry. i will never join the dark lord. you know this isn't right, why are you doing this? why? why?" you're practically begging for an answer as harry looked away, an irritated expression on his face, clenching his jaw together. your hands reached for his shirt and jacket, trying to shake some sense into him as you grasped them tightly and pulled him closer.

"don't you love me?" you had asked him in the most heartbreaking, soul crushing voice. your words were weak, but your sentiment was palpable. you were bloody, dirty, covered in scars from fighting, holding harry close to you as you begged him with wide eyes. not too much earlier in the year he would've folded immediately looking at you, so innocent and desperate, his last bit of hope in the world.

but it was already far too late.

"take her to azkaban," harry had announced, angling his head back to the deatheaters behind him, keeping his eyes locked with yours. your grip on his clothes loosened and shocked gasps came from the crowd. harry looked at voldemort, who was a bit puzzled by the situation, but backed up harry's real nonetheless. "you heard the boy," he snapped towards the men behind him.

the deatheaters walked towards you as you stepped away from harry. "no, no, no, stop!" you were screaming, trying to back away from them, but they had grabbed your arms aggressively and began dragging you towards the bridge. "[y/n]!" a few students had shouted, running towards you before their attempts were blocked by a wave of voldemort's wand. the students fell to the ground, watching helplessly as you continued to fight your way out of the deatheaters' grasps. harry stood still, emotionless, completely stoic as he heard your desperate wails and calls for his name disappear into the woods behind him.

the rest of that night or day or whatever it was has since been completely blocked out of harry's mind, forever. his rage had reached a level he didn't know was possible. all he could recall anymore is the blood, the screaming, the running, and the light of his wand in his hand. many students and professors died during that battle at his hand, along with voldemort's and the deatheaters'. the castle was then burned to the ground, signifying the end of the battle. hogwarts had never stood a chance.

and, now, harry stands in the dark lord's manor, staring at the abandoned buildings lining his street, and he's thinking of you.

he often wondered how life would have been if you had joined him that day. though his years since have been packed with death, fights, destruction, and chaos, there were moments alone or in peril where you crossed his mind like a gentle breeze. a simpler part of his past, a light in his darkness. your soft, kind eyes, wide with shock as you back away from him, fixated on the deatheaters coming to collect you. your sweet, melodic voice screaming and breaking as you were dragged away, fighting for your freedom. harry could remember the moment perfectly despite everything else in his life being a blur.

he wonders how you would have filled the role as his partner in crime after choosing him. two dark lords unstoppable against the forces of the wizarding world, fighting 'good' and spreading evil just as he had been this whole time. would you have succumbed easily to the temptation? would you be as dark as harry was? could you maybe even be darker?

but harry knew it was a fruitless endeavor from the beginning. he had wanted to ask you anyways, to at least give you a chance to make the decision to be with him, even if he already knew what your response would be. harry was a bit let down at first, hoping maybe there was enough love between you to push morals aside, but he knew he would never be that lucky. part of why he fell in love with you way before his anger began was your commitment and dedication to what you believed was right. that same trait would be the driving force behind his decision to lock you away.

harry knew you. and he knew you wouldn't stop fighting until your body gave out, and maybe even after that. he may have lost you by sending you to azkaban for the foreseeable future of the war, but he'd rather know you were safe somewhere solitary than spend his years wondering where your dead body had been rotting into the dirt all this time. though azkaban was desolate, dark, isolated, and torturous, it allowed harry to sleep at night thinking of your still-beating heart resting safely behind those impenetrable walls.

lately his nights had become more restless, though, as the thought of you still residing in azkaban began to sit with him. he didn't feel guilt, really, he knew it was what was ultimately best for you. but he did miss you.

after the war had died down and voldemort took his place as the rightful dark lord of the world, harry's anger began to subside for the first time in years. rather than rage fueling his insatiable desire to destroy, he felt incredibly numb and disengaged with everything around him. the desolate streets and grim sky and abandoned city outside the windows began to fit his mental state more and more. for the first time since he was a teenager, harry could see past the anger.

and all he wanted was you.

so, harry had reached out to the dark lord, who spent most of his time at his new ministry castle across the country from the old manor he let harry watch over. they communicated every so often, checking in on business and social matters, but otherwise never had to meet in person. 

harry sent him a letter asking for your release and direct delivery to his household, barring from reason. he felt after the war he had lead with and for voldemort, he owed harry a singular favor all these years later.

it only took 2 days for a confirmation letter to be sent back to harry, signed by voldemort himself, dating your arrival for the next day.

harry had his house elf, jinx, make up your room, asking her to be sure it was comfortable and clean before your delivery tomorrow afternoon, and to also provide plenty of options for dinner.

harry spent all night thinking about you, wondering what you'd look like after all this time. how similar or different you would be from what he remembers. how you'd react to seeing him. he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't react well, likely needing an extended period of alone time to adjust being here before he'd ever get a civil moment with you. but he was up for the challenge, otherwise he'd never ask for your return in the first place. he was releasing his anger, and instead building his patience, if not just to hold you one more time.

there was a delicious smell filling the mansion as the clock drew nearer to your arrival. harry was dressed better than he had been in years, and had jinx make the usually desolate looking building feel warm and inviting. fireplaces roaring, warm lamps flooding the hallways, and the grand dining table set to perfection for 2 particular guests.

harry didn't want to make it too obvious, but it was hard for him to hide how excited he was to see you again. even if you were different, even if you hated him, all he wanted was to see you in person, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since the day you were dragged away at his command.

once the hour was upon him, harry could hear footsteps and voices on the second floor. his heart leaped, setting down his glass of wine before heading for the stairs.

"let go of me, let go of me," a strained voice was crying down the hall, the sounds of a struggle coming from harry's left. he saw two house elves, rather squat and bulky, holding onto the arms of a frail body covered in a simple striped prison dress.

one elf turned to harry and gave him a devilish grin, "ah, there's the man himself!" he growled, his partner turning as well. "sorry we were late, mr. potter, someone here wasn't too keen on leaving azkaban, for some reason," he apologizes, pulling at the arm he's holding.

you slowly turn your head and stop struggling, your eyes wide with fear and mouth dropped open. "harry?" you whispered to yourself, your knees nearly giving out beneath you before the elves aggressively pulled you back up.

the first elf groans, rolling his eyes at you. "where can we put her, huh?" he asks, his tone impatient. harry pulls a few gold coins out of his pocket and hands them over to both of the elves. "right here is just fine. thank you, boys," he tells them.

the elves happily accept the tips and drop you to the ground, quickly disappearing in a flash.

you're left heavily breathing on the floor of the hall, sniffling and groaning in pain before diverting your attention to harry. your eyes were still wide, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you tried to move yourself further away from him on your hands and knees.

harry gave you your space, but watched intently as you nervously increased the distance between both of you. your hair was long, tangled, greasy, and falling around you like a curtain. you were smaller than he remembered, your eyes sunken in and cheeks more hollowed than before. you were pale, and visibly dirty. the soles of your feet were nearly black.

harry felt a pain in his stomach, his blood pressure rising imagining how you lived inside the walls of the prison. he couldn't identify the feeling. it was different from anger, but it wasn't far off.

as you continued to back up, your eyes shifted to a widow on your right. you slowly gained the energy to lift yourself and reach for the window, throwing it open before attempting to stick your hand out.

your hand hit the open window like you had never moved the glass barrier. you continued trying to stick your hand and head out, hitting at the invisible barrier with all your strength, making frustrated sounds.

"there's a spell on the house, love. you can't leave, just for now, until we can work things out," harry tried to explain gently as you continued trying to escape. he took a step towards you and you stepped away, leaning on the wall for support as you began to cry harder.

"get away from me, get away, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening," you tried to shout at him, your faced turned away and other arm putting distance between you and harry. you were gasping for air, your voice stressed and broken, shaking your head as you tried to continue backing up into the wall.

harry still attempted to give you your space. he hated to see you like this. you were so defensive and scared of everything going on around you. he wanted to give you time to calm down, but felt you needed to know what was going on.

"[y/n]," harry said, causing your head to snap towards him with curious eyes. your arm lowered slightly, your knees still weak beneath you. "listen to me, okay? just for a second," harry tried to ask kindly. he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he talked to someone this gently.

you continued to stand defensively, your eyes scanning harry up and down nervously as your breathing slowly started to still.

harry sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before turning his attention to you again. "i know this is a lot, and i know it's confusing," he starts, his voice unexpectedly shaky. "but i asked voldemort, and i had you released from azkaban. i figured you may like a warm place to stay, so i had you brought here,"

you still looked confused for a moment before you narrowed your eyes, your arm coming up once again to defend yourself. "what are you talking about? where are we?" you asked harry suspiciously, still scanning him from head to toe.

"my manor. well, the lord's manor, but, essentially mine," harry says a bit awkwardly. you gave him a look of disgust, leaning further into the wall for support. "why would i want to be here? with you?" you practically spat at him with hatred in your eyes. harry was unaffected.

"i know you don't. but there's nowhere else to go. i promise." harry tells you solemnly. your eyes widen a bit again, a flash of fear coming across your face, but the anger quickly returns.

"i'd rather live in rubble than prop my feet up in the dark lord's manor," you say sharply, taking a step towards him in attempt to intimidate him. though you weren't much shorter than harry, you were weak, and tired, and he wasn't necessarily afraid of your threats.

he took a step back anyways, giving you more space. "look," he says, his eyes turning to the floor before he can steady his breathing and reply. "it's just for now. if you really don't want to stay, i won't make you." he says softly before returning his eyes to yours. they're not as bright as he remembers them in his dreams about you.

"but," he says, causing your jaw to clench. "you will stay until you're well again. and it's not up for debate." harry tells you firmly, his tone not as gentle as before.

you swallow harshly, your stomach growling audibly as the smell of the food downstairs begins to settle into your senses.

harry notices this and smirks to himself before quickly returning to a neutral state. "now," he announces, straightening out his blazer. "until the food is ready, there's a room made up for you just down this hall and to your left. it has a bathroom, and clothes. take all the time you need." he says before promptly turning on his heels and heading downstairs, his heart still racing from his encounter with you.

sitting in the living room watching the fireplace in front of him, harry eventually hears the door of your new bedroom click open and swiftly close. not long after he can hear the plumbing rumble as you take your first shower. he smiles at the fact that you're finally in his life once more, even if the circumstances were completely unusual.

harry's nearly concerned and wanting to send jinx to check on you after 2 hours of running water before it stops, the sound of the bathroom fan taking its place. harry's relieved.

"jinx, could tell our guest the foods ready," harry tells the elf as she brings the last tray from the kitchen to the dining room. she nods to herself, shuffling up the stairs sluggishly.

harry's pouring another glass of wine in the kitchen and decides to pour you one as well. on his way into the dining room, he sees you standing in the entryway. you're dressed in a large jumper, oversized pajamas bottoms, and your hair is still rather wet plopped into a bun on top of your head. your skin is rubbed raw, your cheeks still flushed pink as you analyze the table full of food in front of you.

harry smiles at your shocked gaze, your stomach growling again as he tries to hand you your glass of wine. you turn your nose at him, taking a step back. he smiles curtly and heads to his seat, setting your glass with his.

"figured you might be hungry," harry says as he sits down, his plate made for him already. he looks at you, arms still crossed, nose turned away, but eyes peeking at the endless food at your disposal. he can tell you're trying to keep your guard up, but your stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since you came downstairs.

he gestures to your chair just across from him, a plate made for you as well. you look at him, your eyes curious but expression still tight. you carefully take a step closer to the table, but you're still weary.

harry gives you a sympathetic smile. "after tonight you can have any meal you want in your solitude. i just thought i'd be nice and host my guest for the first night," he tells you, catching your gaze.

your curious look quickly turns to one of anger. "i'm not your guest. i'm practically a prisoner again." you hiss, your eyes boring into his with contempt. harry can sense the rage building inside of you. he's familiar with the feeling.

though you were different in so many ways, your dull eyes and lifeless voice, you were also similar in your determined attitude. you had always been the type to stand up and take charge, which harry completely admired and was impressed by. he found your beauty to be most potent in your strong will and cunning mind.

he admired you for just a moment, looking down at him with enough hatred to send shivers over his body. you looked so young, your skin supple and smooth under the light of the candles and fireplace, your hair falling loosely to frame your furrowed brow. you were just as pretty as he remembered, even if your expression always contained a hint of sadness and fear around him.

harry simply smiles softly, sitting back in his chair. "i prefer guest," he says teasingly. you suddenly snap at him, grabbing for his steak knife and pushing your arm to his neck against the back of the chair, holding the point of the knife to the side of his neck.

if looks could kill, the knife would've been unnecessary. your eyes were nearly black as you shakily push against harry's throat. "let me out of here now or i swear, harry," your voice cracks saying his name. "i swear i'll fucking kill you," you spit, leaning further into your grasp him on, your jaw clenched tightly.

harry, to your surprise, just chuckles to himself, not even struggling to breathe as he looks up at you deviously. your eyes widen just before you feel your arms start to move for you, as well as your legs. your neck is strained as well, an invisible force pushing you away from harry as the knife drops from your hand.

you're suddenly released from the mysterious grasp, and you choke out a breath, looking back at harry. he's smirking, but trying not to let you see as his pointed hand lowers from you. he fixes his shirt and chair, gesturing again to your seat across from him. "as thrilling as that was, love, not yet. i'd like you to stay here for at least a month before i consider placing you elsewhere." harry states, picking his knife back up to place on the table.

you stare at harry incredulously. "a month?" you ask, your face turning red again. you take another step towards him but you falter in fear of him using the same force as before to stop you. you stumble as your mind races to gather your thoughts. "how…you…i'm not staying here for a month! this is insanity! how could you send me away like that and just bring me back like it was nothing? a shower and a plate of food and suddenly those 5 years in azkaban never happened?"

you're now shouting at harry with a broken voice, your emotions on high as the tears threaten to fall again. harry watches you, just watches, and simply gestures to your chair again. "just join me," he insists.

you go to yell again, but harry sternly interrupts. "we can discuss this another time. please. sit down." he commands from you.

your mask drops for a moment, a look of fear crossing your face before diverting your eyes away completely to your chair. your stomach growls again, your hand covering it to hide the sound.

it takes a few moments until you slowly make your way to sit down, glancing at harry before taking your seat. harry begins eating silently, and, not long after, you're digging into your first real plate of food in years.

harry can't help but smile to himself subtly watching you indulge yourself for a moment, the mask slipping again as you gratefully shovel spoonfuls of food into your mouth with a sigh of relief. he was glad you were eating, even if he had to put up a bit of a fight to convince you.

as harry finishes up, you're still making your way through your second plate. he stands, grabbing your attention and making you curl back into your seat. "jinx," he calls out before sipping the last of his wine. jinx comes to the table and grabs harry's glass and plate, turning to take them to the kitchen. 

"[y/n], this is jinx," harry motions to the elf, who gives you a warm smile. you return the smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask her. she lives to serve," harry tells you proudly, earning a slight look of disgust from you before returning a smile at jinx.

"this was a lovely dinner, ms. jinx, thank you so much, truly," you thank her honestly. she bows to you slightly before continuing her way through the doors to the kitchen.

you shoot harry a glare. "the harry i knew would've never kept a house elf," you say, your words dripping with disdain. harry ignores your statement, turning to the stairs before ascending them.

he leaves you alone at the dining table, closing himself off in the master bedroom for the night. just as he's finishing up brushing his teeth, he hears your door click shut. that night he fell asleep feeling more reassured than he had in years knowing the pretty girl he couldn't keep his mind off of was asleep just down the hall from him.

it had been a few weeks since harry moved you in, and he rarely ended up seeing you in the mansion. you were often locked away in your room, or taking showers, and harry only ever saw you when you were finishing up a meal with jinx.

you had become quite close with her, it seems, which harry found sweet. he was worried at first that you may be using jinx as a way to find an escape from the house, but after a while without incident, harry realized how silly the idea was. you truly could connect with anyone.

one of the only other times he saw you, though, was when he passed by the open library one night. harry had been restless, thinking about his past in depth, feeling emotions he couldn't place, and decided to watch the sunrise to clear his head. he took a quick glance through the doors before spotting you curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand, fast asleep beside a warm lamp.

harry stopped, taking a moment to admire you from afar. you had gained some weight back being here, which harry loved to see. your cheeks were full and rounded, your hands not as frail, and the color was coming back to your skin. your hair looked impossibly soft under the light, sprawled everywhere around your angelic, sleeping face. harry couldn't help the cheesy smile that overcame his face. he was just happy that you were okay.

outside of that, harry spent most of his time alone, thinking about you. you hadn't reached out to him yet, which he expected, but was surprised when a month came and went and you still didn't confront him. he hadn't made his decision just yet, so he didn't have an answer for you even if you had asked him. he saw you were doing better, but still wasn't confident in letting you go. not just for selfish reasons, of course, but he wanted to be sure you were equipped enough to live on your own.

but, harry had to admit, his heart raced when he heard your soft footsteps pass his door to the stairs. his mind went blank seeing your figure standing in the dining room with jinx, chatting over a plate of snacks together. his blood ran cold when he heard your soft giggle from somewhere in the mansion. like a beautiful ghost haunting his past.

harry knew even before he sent his letter to voldemort that his feelings for you had never truly gone away. deep under his rage, his unforgiving heart, his cold blooded nature, his love for you had always remained. but he was learning to accept your departure if you chose to do so. a final goodbye to the most beautiful part of his unsightly life. harry wasn't sure he could handle the idea.

he was struggling with his thoughts, the constant back and forth he was feeling about you. at first harry was sleeping better with you there knowing you were safe, but now he stayed up late worrying himself sick over the decisions he had to make now that you were actually there.

sitting in bed, staring at the rising sun through his window, harry's mind was exhausting him. he hadn't slept all night and could feel the effects setting in. slowly, he stood from the bed and slipped on his house shoes along with his robe. he quietly leaves his room to not disturb you so early just down the hall.

he walks to the opposite end of the hall towards the balcony, and takes his usual seat facing the sunrise.

harry contemplates here most mornings, but never comes to any radical conclusions. he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's best for you anymore. he knows he selfishly wants you all to himself still, but also knows you deserve to live the life you want no matter what his opinion is. it's the same conversation with himself every time, and it leaves him confused and upset for keeping you here like he is. even if his heart is in the right place.

his thoughts are interrupted by jinx, who offers harry a cup of tea. he thanks her, but quickly calls her back to ask a question. "jinx, um…[y/n], how is she doing?" he asks.

jinx, a quiet house elf, gives harry a smile, and pats his shoulder. her smile is warm and reassuring, as well as her hand. as she walks off, harry smiles to himself a bit. he's not completely satisfied with the answer, but he takes what he can get.

finishing his cup of tea with the sun shining over the horizon, harry turns to head inside before being met with the sight of you standing at the open doorway of the balcony. 

you're dressed in a simple long sleeve pajama shirt along with comfortable pants, your arms crossed as the morning chill sets into the air. harry's a bit startled at first, but gives you a polite smile, diverting his eyes and walking around you to leave you be.

"harry," you said softly, turning to him.

harry's heart dropped, but turned to you promptly with eager eyes. the way you said his name, your soft voice, he was already so captivated by you.

"can we talk?"

now harry was worried. this is what he's been afraid of since you got here. he's not ready to answer you. he doesn't know what he's going to say when you desperately ask him to leave and never come back.

"of course," he says calmly, gesturing to the balcony so you could sit together.

once you've joined him in watching the sun, you two fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as the soft wind whistles past.

"i never thanked you," you said quietly after a while, almost a whisper in the wind. harry looked at you, looking at the sunrise. your face was radiant. you were brilliant in the light of the sun, your hair still impossibly soft and beautiful, falling around you, following the flow of the air. harry was overwhelmed with the beauty your presence held in this moment. "you never had to."

you glanced at harry, studying his expression, before turning back to the sun. "it's also been a month." you state coldly. harry's gaze drops, sighing. "57 days, technically," he mumbles.

a few moments of silence pass again, leaving harry an anxious mess in his seat. he tried to think of a gentle way to let you know he still needed time to decide what to do. a way to tell you without putting his life at risk to your anger.

"well, as much as i hate to say this, you were right," you say, still watching the sunrise in deep thought. harry was shocked by your words, immediately sitting up in his seat to get a better look at your face.

you were stoic, your eyes fixated on the scene out beyond your reach. "what?" harry asked, not believing his own ears. a small smile crept to your lips, the first one he's managed to see himself since you've been here. his heart aches at just the hint of seeing it again.

"don't make me say it again, potter," you try to say threateningly with that small smile, your eyes falling to your lap.

harry is stunned into silence, watching you with careful eyes. "but, you were right. i needed time to be healthy again." you said to him, your back still turned. harry stayed quiet, allowing you to continue. "i was angry with you. i still am. i don't think it'll ever stop," you inform him, the coldness returning to your voice. "but," he was preparing himself for the rejection, the questions, the begging.

"i'd like to stay, if you'll have me," you offer in a slightly embarrassed tone, your face turned the other way.

to say harry was shocked at your request is an understatement. he was expecting you to have a plan to take him out if he had rejected your request to leave yet. he never considered the idea that you might actually want to stay with him.

"i'll have you forever, if you let me," harry responds, a small smile on his face as well. you shoot him a warning look. "not forever. just until i feel well again." you tell him, your voice cold once more. you turn back to the sun, now completely over the horizon. "figured you owe me that much," you say in an accusatory voice.

harry just smirks to himself. you could never be soft for long when he was around. but he appreciated that you felt you could ask him to stay, though you never had to in the first place. harry really would have had you forever, if you'd let him.

"stay as long as you need to." he says.

you glance back at him again, your eyes softer this time. you're analyzing him for a moment before turning to him a bit. "it took me a long time to understand why you sent me to azkaban," you tell him, your voice steady and emotionless. harry just watches you, admiring the light surrounding you.

"you would've never stood a chance in destroying the world had i been free," you state, your eyes still examining him. harry offers you another small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the same way. "you knew you were weak," you say.

harry's now analyzing your expression, your words swimming around in his mind. "i did," he admitted to you. "it was just easier if i knew where you were all this time," he says breathlessly.

your eyes narrow at him once more, the anger returning to your body language. "easier for you. i would've never done the same if the roles were reversed." you snapped at him harshly. harry believed you. he thought about it a lot in his nightly battles with his own mind.

"you're right," harry stated, still admiring you in your anger. you were upset, but gave harry a questioning look. your eyes softened only a bit. "i think about it all the time," he admits to you gently.

you're a bit puzzled by his admittance of guilt, but don't let it stop you. "i hope it haunts you at night the way it haunts me," you say sharply, your eyes dark.

"always has," harry says to himself, only making you more angry. "you poor thing. must've been so tough relaxing in this mansion knowing i was rotting away in solitary confinement." your voice is strong, powerful, a contrast to the broken words you gave harry your first day here.

"it was," harry says simply, sensing your rising impatience with him. you stood from your seat, towering over him as he continued watching you in wonder. "you evil little rat. you're just lucky my magic is restricted by this spell. i would've killed you in your sleep that first night." you threaten him, gesturing to the protection spell around the castle and balcony.

harry wants to stop himself, but can't keep the smirk off his face. this only angers you more, pulling your arm back and slapping harry square across his face.

he doesn't react, instead allowing himself to stay facing away from you. "i hate you," you state weakly, your hands balled at your side. harry looks at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "i know," he says softly.

you frustratedly sit back down, turning to look back at the sunrise once more.

a long silence settles over you two, listening to the sounds of the city as it awakens around you. eventually, you stand, turning to leave harry alone on the balcony. you pause before you leave.

"i still never thanked you, harry." you speak softly, your back turned to him. he looks over at you, your curves glowing in the morning light. "you never had to," he replies, and you're off down the dark hallway.

for the next few months, you and harry live together amicably. he sees you around more often as you start to leave the confines of your room. of course the library was a place of solace for you, but he started to see you more in the living room, on the balcony, or in the dining room enjoying jinx's company. for a while you two exchanged polite greetings, simple glances and acknowledgements, before asking about each other's days, or commenting on the weather. it was agonizingly slow for harry, but he was breaking through your walls one way or another.

one day not long after you'd slapped him on the balcony, you sat in the living room with harry, across from his seat on the couch. he was surprised by your presence, but gave you a small smile over his book anyway. "jinx tells me you've been acting different," you'd stated bluntly, watching his face for a reaction.

harry put down the book he was reading, giving you his attention. "have i?" he asks. you were always examining him, your eyes critical but curious at the same time. "she says your anger used to be terrible. even worse than i remember." you lead him on.

harry bit his lip thinking about the years where his rage was at its worst. he tried not to dwell on them, and instead tried to focus on the newfound emotions consuming his life. but he couldn't deny the path of destruction he'd left while seeing red.

harry eventually nodded, his eyes distant. "it was," he admits, his voice just as lost in thought. you shifted in your seat. "you let it ruin everything, harry." you said softly, leaving him looking at the floor in disappointment. "i know," he admitted.

the silence between you was palpable. harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders before you spoke again. "i would hear about the things you did while in azkaban. the guard would tell me even after i asked him to stop." you inform him. harry can still feel your eyes shooting daggers at him.

"for so long i fantasized about being the one to kill you, to finally put an end to voldemort." you said wistfully. harry glanced at you, seeing a longing look on your face. "how brave of [y/n] to put her love aside to kill the dark lord's apprentice." you said in a mocking tone, leaning back in your seat.

harry watched you, imagining you in azkaban, dreaming of putting an end to his life, while he dreamed of freeing you. it was a fair trade, he thought, and not one he would argue against at this point. and it didn't go unnoticed that you mentioned your love for him, either.

"you still can," harry says, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. "excuse me?" you ask with a sneer. harry puts his book to the side and sits up, his feet planted on the ground. "kill me, that is. it's not impossible." he tells you with intrigue.

you're staring at him incredulously, your eyes always searching him. "you're…you're kidding, right? i mean, you took my magic while yours seems to be highly skilled. you really think i'd stand a chance?" you ask with a sarcastic laugh.

harry stands from his seat, taking achingly slow steps around the coffee table towards you. "yes, while your magic is weak, you are not, [y/n]. i've gone out of my way to keep the knives, fire pokers, swords, and hundreds of books on potions and charms out for your use, at any time, have i not?" harry questions you, getting closer now. though you would normally pull back from him, you stay seated, trying to process his words.

standing just before you, harry admires the curves of your face against the light of the fire. "with your nimble step and cunning wit," harry lifts his hand to gently put his fingers to your chin. the first physical contact he's had with you. unless you count the time you held that knife to his throat. "you could gut me like a pig before i even have the chance to squeal," harry's voice is soft but dark, your breathing caught in your throat at the contact.

as he backed away, harry could see the physical effect he had on you. your nervous blinking, your jaw tightening, hands trembling; he found it sweet he could still do that to you, even if you claimed to hate him.

after that day, harry felt less tension between you two. maybe being vulnerable around you made you realize he was never a threat to begin with. he didn't want anything from you, and he didn't care if you never wanted anything from him. as long as you were safe, that was all he cared about. he hoped you were starting to understand that.

though conversations between you were still tense and cryptic, there was a sense of unspoken comradery that felt nostalgic to you both. your serious, brooding angst matched with harry's calm, collected coldness made for an interesting match. it was never the same as before, you were both fairly aware it wasn't ever going to be, but there was an undoubted chemistry that still lingered from your teenage years together.

however, something else that always lingered during your interactions is your distaste for harry's actions. at any chance you can, you poke and prod at his past, partly to understand, he assumes, but also to test his limits. you were always cautious and suspicious of his submissive behavior when it came to this kind of confrontation; how could someone who was, at least at one point, so evil, so cruel and heartless, become so nonchalant about their past? who wipes out entire cities just to 'not dwell on it'?

this was always a point of contention between you, even if everything else until that point had been somewhat playful. it never so much upset harry as it riled you up, bringing strong emotions to the forefront, causing you to lash out at him. though he always stayed calm, he also always seemed to listen. he never disagreed with your feelings or sentiments, if anything he agreed with your hatred for himself. it's like that day in the living room when he tempted you with his death, and yet you never took the bait.

harry rather enjoyed watching you work yourself up, and admired how quick you were to defend yourself. he never wanted to upset you, of course, but sometimes he couldn't help his cheeky responses knowing it would get a look out of you that made his heart jump. it might not be the most gentlemanly thing he does, but something about your anger excited him. it was nothing like his vengeful rage from the past, but it had its own potency that ran a chill down his spine. harry was so used to everyone cowering away from him in fear of his power that he relished your open aggression towards him. it was thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed.

harry tried to remain respectful of his guest, but having such a beautiful mind and body occupy his space with him was hard to ignore sometimes. his eyes would wander, as well as his thoughts, and he had caught himself fantasizing about you a few too many times to admit. you were stunning, of course, you always had been, but there was something about you now that elevated your beauty in harry's eyes. maybe it was the dark, unforgiving coldness of your eyes, or the strong scowl that your expression rested in, or the underlying anger that was ready to bubble over at any point, but harry was completely infatuated with who you had become.

he knew how hypocritical it was for him to admire the parts of you that were forced out in your desperation to survive the decision he made for you all those years ago. though you seldom mentioned your years in azkaban, harry could see and feel the effects it continued to have on you. they weighed on him heavily, and though harry wasn't one to regret what's happened in the past, he wished he could've figured out another way to protect you at the time. a way that didn't dim the light inside of you the way that it has been.

but still, that light was there. when you smiled to yourself at your own quips, when you admired the food jinx prepares you, when you lost yourself in your books, harry could physically feel the light radiating within you. it was familiar, like an old hug from a friend, and was unmistakably beautiful.

sometimes he felt like a teenager again, discovering the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place. your natural charm, your captivating eyes, the innate draw he felt to you simply by being in your presence. it was unlike anything he's felt for another person, before or since meeting you. but rather than two teenagers flirting over study dates, you were now two closed off adults with a complicated history and 'break up', if you could even call it that. it was nothing like the past, yet it was entirely too similar.

you and harry had been sitting in silence together in the living room, reading your respective books, enjoying each other's company. it was one of harry's favorite things to do with you now, and one of the only ways you two could be together without it ending in tension. neither of you talked, neither of you made noise outside of the occasional chuckle or gasp at your readings; it was a peaceful excuse for harry to be near you, and sometimes admire you from over the pages.

this night, however, you broke the traditional silence by asking harry a question you'd been keeping to yourself. "harry," you started. he loved the sound of his name in your voice, it was invigorating to listen to.

harry turned his head to you, his book still in his lap, noticing you've long since placed yours on the table beside you. "[y/n]," he responded with his typical smirk, returning his eyes to his book.

you cleared your throat a bit, your ankles crossing in front of you. "how often did you think of me," it was more of a statement than a question, your tone not as cold and questioning as it typically was.

harry knew what you meant, of course, and waited a moment before answering you. "i'd never stopped," he said simply. it was true, and it still is.

you turned to look at the fireplace, your knees bouncing out of the corner of harry's eye as he pretends to continue reading. "but you never came back for me," you stated. harry's eyebrows furrowed, glancing at you again before looking away to leave you with your words. "you left me there to die," you said, that familiar coldness returning to your tone.

harry let out a sharp breath. "that was never my intention, and you know that." he says without a reaction. you become visibly irritated, your jaw clenching with your fists. "you never thought about me," you insisted, your words heavy with contempt.

harry shut his book and threw it beside him, leaning towards you. you turned to glare at him, your nostrils flared. "i was lucky to sleep one full night in the last 5 years without a singular dream of you." he tells you, his voice as steady as his eye contact. "you haunt me like a ghost, [y/n]. you always will."

you're looking at him questionably as you stand from your seat across from him, now making your way towards him. "good. i hope you never forget about what you did to me. i won't." you hiss at him, your cheeks turning red. harry's mind races with you towering over him, leaning back in his seat to fully enjoy the view.

"how could i forget about you?" he quips, that same damn smirk making you grit your teeth. you take another, heavier step towards him, your fists trembling at your sides. "stop fucking doing that," you spit threateningly.

harry cocks his head to the side, looking you up and down. he likes seeing you like this, even if it scares him a bit. "what?" he asks, pushing you even further.

you step between his legs and lean into his face, only leaving a few inches between you. "that, you fucking creep. is this funny to you?" your voice is raised now, the anger finally starting to boil over again. "not at all," harry says, still smirking at your reaction.

"then wipe the smirk off your face and stop doing this to me, harry." you instruct him, leaning back to cross your arms in front of you. harry's biting his lip, not able to resist the lustful thoughts he's having of you in this situation. "doing what, exactly?" he asks, curious what you mean.

"this, all of this, harry. you look at me like a starving animal. you watch me around the house like a stalker. you say you think of me all the time and yet you've only so much as touched my chin." you rattle off, clearly frustrated with these thoughts you've kept inside. "you bring me back here and have me live like a princess when there's people outside who live like animals because of you and what you've done," you continue to raise your voice at him, now getting yourself completely worked up.

harry just watches you, like always, not disagreeing with any of your sentiments. as he normally doesn't, he knows you're a smart girl.

"and you're still fucking looking at me like that," you growl, your arm coming across his neck once more, like the first night you were here, holding him against the cushions of the couch.

harry doesn't stop you, as he never does, and instead enjoys the feeling of you kneeling between his legs in an attempt to further choke him. "i swear on my own life i'll still kill you, potter. what the fuck do you want from me?" you interrogate him, your dark eyes searching him for answers.

the smirk on harry's face only grows, causing you to push further into his throat. it's ironic how much he wants from you right now that would only further put his life at risk in your hands.

"i…never wanted…anything…" harry chokes out. he knows he's stronger than you and could easily escape your grasp, but he enjoys the feeling of letting you have control over the moment, and over him.

"that's a fucking lie," you say through gritted teeth, getting nose to nose with harry. "tell me what you want." you insist.

harry's heart is racing, his mind going blank from the lack of oxygen, and an inconvenient erection growing through his trousers. he could tell you so many things he wants, how many nights he's spent imagining you on top of him like this once again. he knows it would only anger you more, and he was almost tempted by that thought alone.

after a few moments of harry struggling to keep his eyes focused on you, you could feel something against your thigh that caught your attention. glancing down, your weight on harry's throat lessened enough for him to breathe slightly. you looked back up at his eyes with a look of confusion and shock before quickly returning to anger.

"seriously? are you fucking turned on right now as i'm threatening your life?" you ask him with disgust, slightly pulling away. harry's cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath, your arm still resting across this collarbone. he stays quiet, his eyes glancing between you and his lap.

you scoff at him. "you're so pathetic, potter. how you were ever a leader of anything is a mystery to me." you ridicule him, an amused smirk coming across your own face.

your condescending attitude only fuels harry's excitement more, trying not to let his expression expose how much he's enjoying this.

"it's almost like you want me to kill you," your voice is quiet but dangerously cold, giving harry goosebumps as your breath falls across his blushing face. he tries to stop it but his body can't resist a low whine being forced from his throat.

your eyes fall to his lips for just a moment before you lean into them, surprising harry with a hungry kiss as you relax your weight onto his body. more moans escape harry's mouth as you roughly force your tongue past his lips. his hand naturally finds your waist, but you slap it away harshly with your free hand. "no touching." you warn him, your lips brushing against his.

"yes ma'am," harry responds.

you give him a look, your other leg kneeling beside his as you straddle his thigh, your skirt falling perfectly over his knee. "i still hate you," you growl, choking him against the couch once more. "i know," harry says breathlessly, staring at you like a helpless puppy.

forcing him into a suffocating kiss, you eventually let harry breathe as your lips find his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin and hands grasping his shoulders tightly. he groans at the pain, earning a slight roll of your hips on his leg. harry wants nothing more than to touch you right now, guiding your hips into his body, pleasuring you like he's wanted to for so long. but for now, he's just glad you're kissing him, and enjoys the feeling of your breath against his bruised skin.

"shirt off." you command, sitting back to observe the puddle harry's become in your grasp. he wastes no time taking off his sweater, throwing it behind him as your eyes trace over his scarred torso. your cold gaze softens at the sight, your fingers tracing the healed wounds carefully.

for a moment, when you glance at harry through your eyelashes, he feels that same love you shared as kids. the soft, innocent admiration that came with inexperience. for just one moment, nothing was complicated, and there was no history. you were discovering harry all over again, like he had been with you.

the moment didn't last for long as your gaze hardened once more looking at him. you stood from your straddling position, much to his disappointment. he was ready for you to end the moment and leave, but you didn't.

"on your knees." you instructed him. again, harry wasted no time as he sunk to his knees in front of the couch, eye level with the hem of your skirt. he looked up at you eagerly, hardly believing the privilege he had to see you above him like this.

harry's heart was racing as you lifted your skirt to expose your panties to him. his eyes never left yours, his breathing hitching at the beauty just in front of his face. his hands were patiently folded in his lap, aching to grab every part of you.

you slowly lifted one thigh onto harry's shoulder, reaching down to take the glasses off his face for him, setting them to the side. "now," you told him, your voice seductive as you lean your weight into him once more. harry holds his shoulders steady, his mouth close enough to your soaked pantines to nearly taste you already.

"let me ride your face," you coo, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he continues staring at you with hungry eyes. "it's the least you can do for me," you smirk, your voice still chillingly cold and cryptic.

harry lets out a sigh of relief and desperation, eyes glancing at your panties before returning to your gaze. you slowly push his open mouth onto you, not able to hold back a sound of relief yourself.

harry's eyes flutter shut as your hips roll onto his face, losing himself in your smell and taste. your fingers tangle into his hair to keep him in place, soft, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you watch from above.

after a minute you become too desperate and pull your panties aside, instructing harry to hold them as you force his mouth onto your dripping pussy. harry listens like a good boy and holds the fabric, his hand also taking the chance to grip your inner thigh. a deep moan escapes your throat at the feeling.

harry's tongue quickly works its way across your arousal, enjoying every part of you as he pushes himself further into your pussy. your hands try to pull his hair back to relieve some of the overwhelming feeling, but harry doesn't let you control him for once. he's desperate to please you, his hunger growing the more of you he's allowed to have.

harry's other hand grabs for your skirt to hold it above his head, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. your face is twisted in pleasure, lips bitten, eyes glazed over as you watch harry disappear between your legs.

harry moans at the sight of you, sending shivers across your skin. you moan, biting your lips closed, your hips stuttering against his mouth. "fuck," you mumble, earning another moan from harry as his tongue circles your sensitive clit.

a hand rushed to your mouth as you attempt to hide your filthy noises, the feeling making your eyes roll back. you're trying to mask your pleasure, but harry can see right through you.

you finally successfully pull his mouth off of you, lips swollen and wet as his head rests in your grip. "good," you say breathlessly. your voice falters a bit. you take your thigh off harry's shoulder, again, much to his disappointment.

"sit," you tell him, gesturing to the couch once more. harry complies, returning to his spot on the couch behind him. you reach forward and unbutton his pants, pulling them down a bit with his assistance. you can see his erection through his briefs, causing you to smirk a bit before returning to your neutral expression.

"no touching," you remind harry as you position yourself to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. harry's sure you can hear his heartbeat racing under your control.

you start grinding your soaking wet panties against harry's clothed cock, your mouth falling open with his at the sensation. the light of the fire behind you leaves harry with the beautiful sight of you glowing in his lap, your warm skin pressed against his as your breathy moans fall into his neck.

harry can hardly take the teasing any longer, his moans becoming needier the harder he gets under you. "fuck, [y/n]," his voice is deep with desire, his head rolling back once your roll your hips into him harshly. you moan at the sound of your own name, your hands returning to his shoulders as your nails dig deep into his skin.

"that's right, say my name," you smirk, grinding into harry at a faster pace. "so pathetic," you remind him.

harry continuously lets your name fall from his lips as you watch him, a helpless, desperate mess beneath you. he loves the feeling of letting you use him any way you want to.

soon you can't wait much longer, and you pull out harry's cock from his briefs. the feeling of your hand grasping his shift makes harry's hips buck up involuntarily, silently asking for more.

you can't help but chuckle at just how eager he is. you're more than enjoying the control and effect you have over him.

"now," you say again, causing harry to look back at you with needy eyes. "you're gonna let me use you until i cum," you tell him, teasing yourself with the feeling of him against your wet pussy. harry's eyes nearly roll back again as he nods for you, his lips parted with uneven breaths.

you slide harry inside of you, adjusting to the feeling as harry's head falls back once again in pleasure. "so fucking wet," harry sighs softly, nearly whining. once your hips lower completely onto his length, you start to ride harry slowly, still adjusting to him. he's a full blown whining mess beneath you, his chest flushed and heaving as your pussy tightens around him.

you take in the sight of him, your eyes exploring every sweaty part of his body as you continue riding at a slow pace. you unwrap your arms from his shoulders, leaning back into your hips. "take my shirt off," you tell harry.

his eyes open again, looking at you eagerly. his hands nervously begin lifting your shirt, holding the fabric carefully between his fingers, and savors the sight and feeling of pulling it off of you, his eyes glancing at your chest before locking with yours again.

"so beautiful," he tells you, your skin looking deliciously soft in the warm lowlight. "i know, now be quiet," you shut him up, picking up the pace of your hips.

harry's eyes narrow at you, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around his cock only making him hungrier for your pleasure. the sight of you bouncing in his lap, your breasts just in front of his face as you lean your hands next to his head on the back of the couch.

"open," you tell harry.

he doesn't have to be told twice before his lips part, his tongue eagerly waiting for you. you guide your nipple into his mouth, your hips rolling onto harry's cock in circles. his teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin, your pussy gripping harry even more and earning a low growl from his chest. his hands remained at his sides, but he wanted nothing more than to feel you everywhere on top of him.

you start riding harry once more, his teeth still gripping your nipple making you whine at the feeling. "fuck," you let the word slip out, your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip. harry's more than aroused at your reaction to him, his cock aching inside of you to release.

you pull harry's head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. you reach for his glasses that you sat down earlier, returning them to his face delicately. harry appreciates the gesture and can better see the pleasure in your eyes, a soft smile falling across his lips.

"so pretty," he whispers. he can see the blush you try to hide, looking away from his eyes and down at your hips.

you start groaning in frustration, your grip on his hair tightening, causing harry to wince. "you're gonna make me cum," you tell him through broken moans, your thrusts becoming uneven. harry can feel you tightening around him again. he groans at the feeling, your name slipping from his mouth again and again. this only makes you fall apart more, high pitched whimpers coming from you as you chase your high.

you soon sink into harry's neck, your cries of pain and pleasure falling across his skin as your legs start to shake. you can't even form words as your body feels the waves of intense pleasure from each thrust onto harry's cock. your hands move to his shoulders again, holding onto him for stability as you continue to ride out your climax.

harry grows impatient at the feeling of your orgasm and watching you break down into him. he finally grabs for you, moving your hips to the couch beside him, staying inside you while you gasp at his movement. he kicks off his pants and adjusts himself between your legs.

"harry," you try to protest, your voice weak and shaky. "just let me do this, darling," he growls, his hips becoming flush against yours as he pushes his cock completely inside of you. you let out a gasp, your hand slapping over your lips once more.

harry hungrily digs his cock deeper inside of you with each slow thrust, his hands holding himself up above you as he watches his cock easily slide in and out of your soaking wet pussy. he folds your legs back as he sinks even deeper into you.

"holy fuck," he groans, his breathing heavy, hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep himself steady. "so beautiful, [y/n]," harry tells you again, his droopy eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.

you look at him, your eyes full of lust, but still cold as ice. "i…hate you," you remind him through strained breaths, struggling to take his entire length, still glaring at him.

this pushes harry over the edge, his hips quickening until he feels himself start to unravel. he pulls out of your warm pussy and cums on your stomach, groaning at the sight of you below him.

you gasp at the feeling, looking at harry with shock. "did you just cum from me saying i hate you?" you ask, your tone mocking his desperation. harry nods, still stroking his cock slowly, his other hand remaining on your thigh as his moans quiet down.

"you're disgusting," you tell him coldly, but harry can see the smirk on your face and the lust in your eyes. he watches you below him, smirking in return.

"and you love it."

[babayagakeanu]

Dating a jealous John Constantine includes…

Requested by a lovely anon, they asked for a jealousy!headcannon with our boy, John, and the reader is just a pure little ball of fluff.

John is an asshole, let’s face it, never to you, but to everyone else. He’s protective that way, keeps a long distance between him and everyone he meets, because his job requires him to. You, on the other hand, are his light in the darkness that surrounds him. One smile of your’s and John’s nerves go slack at one glance.

You’ve been dating for some time, in fact, in January it’ll be two years. Before John, you were a barista at a local coffee shop and stumbled upon him when you were attacked by a winged creature while walking to your car. John just happened to be the unlucky bastard to be there.

He was wrong. After saving your life, he looked at you, flushed cheeks stained with tears, eye’s bloodshot and wild, your h/c hair blowing wild in the wind and boy, was he stuck. Even in great terror, you remained beautiful.

It wasn’t long until you asked him out. Yes, you had to do it. It was months until he was able to hold your hand, and you were patient with him, still are. Every outburst, every fight, you never yelled, or shouted at him. Hell, your first fight was about you leaving a candle lit in the apartment while napping, and after you cried as he shouted at you, he knelt down and apologized, saying he was never going to treat you again like he just did.

John grew a lot within your relationship, he quit smoking, by your doing. You refused to kiss him after he smoked, and that started to get under his skin after a while, so he ditched the cigs and switched to nicotine patches.

John is a very jealous creature!! This man refuses to let go of you in public, always having a very protective arm casted around you as you walked the streets of your bustling city.

With you being so calm and pure, you were unaware of how beautiful you actually were. You had curves that drove John absolutely manic, and guys turned their heads at you all the time.

“If that dude keeps fucking looking at you, I’m gonna shoot him.”

“John, stop, you can’t walk around public saying you’re gonna shoot people!”

John let you wear what you wanted, but if men kept stealing glances and acting like peeping Tom’s, John would eventually make a show of putting his suit jacket around you, heart warming up at the sight of you in all black.

As we move into the sexier side of things, praise kink galoreeeee!

John loved praising you in bed, always coaxing you through your orgasm.

“My good girl is doing so well coming around my cock, you take me so good, baby.”

And his hands are constantly all over you, ass grabbing as he passes by you in the small kitchen, laying a hand on one of your breasts as you watch tv, John just loves you.

Jealousy sex would go crazy! His hips snapping into you as you lay on the kitchen table, breasted exposed out of the top you wore put that night, your mewls and whines playing like a broken record throughout the apartment.

“You think anyone can fuck you like I can?” His hands would definitely be around your neck, not choking you, but very much a possessive hold. “No way anyone could make my good girl cum like me, can they?” He asks, and he definitely has a sort of mocking tone to his voice. All you can do is nod as pleasure tears through your body, a loud cry of his name rattling the apartment.

To make a long story short, John may have his jealous ways, but somehow, you tamed the beast roaring inside him, and taught John how to properly love and be loved.

[lakesbian]

attention everyone we have reached my personal favorite Line in worm

I stepped toward Sundancer and offered a hand to help her up.  She flinched away. Oh.  My hands were bloody.  I dropped the offered hand to my side. “Let’s go,” I suggested.

there are a lot of good Lines in worm, and while i will acknowledge that many of them are sort of objectively more powerful culminating moments than this one, this one is still My Personal Favorite. Oh. My hands were bloody.

it's been obvious through the early arcs that taylor has a lot of repressed anger: she beats the shit out of rachel, even after being bitten. she outright admits to the other undersiders that she hasn't taken subtle revenge on the trio at school because she's afraid she would take it too far/it would obviously be her. she is, initially, unnerved by violence: she's a bit scared by the gun present in the loft, it creeps her out that brian knows every way to break a person's body, she feels guilt about the idea of any civilians being hurt during the bank robbery. but she still beat up rachel, and she still shoves bugs up the wards' noses during the robbery, and she still gleefully rides rachel's dog and laughs and hollers from the joy and the adrenaline rush of victory afterwards.

the expression of this repressed anger thru violence escalates further when her concussion leads her to slapping emma in the mall. in the principal's office, when it's clear that nothing she or her dad says will garner help with the bullying, she shouts and slaps papers off the table and asks what would happen if she brought a knife to school. after she and her dad leave the meeting, she calls lisa:

“Hey.  How did it go?” I couldn’t find the words for a reply. “That bad?” “Yeah.” “What do you need?” “I want to hit someone.”

lisa invites her to a raid on the ABB so she can do that, and it's soo. Sooo Very. to watch how she cuts loose on it. she's so angry rachel notices it in how she's standing, and she's still confused about how rachel noticed. she's a confident leader when the fight goes crisis mode, she responds to rachel bucking against her orders by consistently shouting at rachel to "NOT fuck with me right now," she acts nigh-suicidally aggressive during her fight with lung, and she snarls "don't fucking underestimate me" when she takes him out using a caterpillar dipped in newter's blood.

all of this happens in relatively subtle increments. she doesn't notice how she progressively becomes comfortable expressing herself and taking charge instead of withdrawing or acting insecurely during the course of the mission. she doesn't notice that she's not horrified by dealing with newter's wound or seeing the sniper's broken leg. back in unmasked society, she was forced to consider how many of her aggressive actions were the result of the concussion loosening her impulse control--here, she repeatedly yells at bitch without a second thought. it's a place where her violence and anger isn't only acceptable but necessary. the circumstances normalize her outbursts and comfort with violence to her, leaving her blind to how alienated and dissociated and repressed and traumatized and furious and just Fucked Up she has to be to face down lung and then dig his eyes out.

when she says that she "doesn't believe in eye for an eye," in arc 4 alec asks her why the fuck she's a supervillain. his implicit assertion is clear: being a villain is, for him, about taking your revenge for being hurt out on whoever you can manage or justify, even if they're not the person who originally hurt you. and taylor thinks she's not doing that. but hey: she goes beyond just "hitting someone" and into literally taking lung's eyes as a culmination of the cathartic violence she's been engaging in as recompense for how she was mistreated earlier.

and the person who serves as a more "normal" reference point for how far taylor just escalated is sundancer: horrified by the idea of having to use her sun to hurt people, shocked by how casually violent taylor has been, flinching away from taylor when she turns to sundancer after committing that violence & tries to offer sundancer help.

because, oh. her hands are bloody. she hadn't even noticed how bloody they were getting, but they are.

deeply evocative one-line reminder of how taylor has changed in these first five arcs, without even noticing. and the best part is that, while the imagery of "oh. my hands were bloody" does convey that change in an incredibly brief and powerful way, the fact that taylor is saying it still means even she hasn't really realized. she thinks it's mainly just about the superficial, literal blood on her hands, and not the metaphorical blood on her hands that sundancer is disturbed by. it's good.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (27)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: fingering, masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk, kissing without consent, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When her uncle decided that they would spend the night in Dragonstone for a moment she thought she had overheard herself − she was unable to contain her delight and outburst of joy at his words, feeling that he had somehow rewarded her for her efforts.

Or at least she thought he had.

His sudden change of plans was unlike him, and she was aware of that, knowing his nature.

He detested deviating from the plans he had previously made for himself.

However, she recognised that perhaps he wanted to show her and her family his sincere intentions, to prove that she was not just a prisoner in his eyes and that he, as her husband, could also sleep under their roof without being one.

She wasn't sure if she had ever been as happy in her life as she had been the moment she flew through the sky next to Vhagar, Caraxes and Syrax; her heart was filled with heat and hope, her uncle's words echoing in her mind like a sweet whisper.

I am proud of you.

Those words meant more to her than any of his other confessions.

Of course, his confession of love was a wonderful thing, but she had always been waiting for him to appreciate her as a person, not just a woman he saw by his side.

With this, she finally felt equal to him.

Her optimism extinguished as quickly as it had appeared as soon as she crossed the walls of the family fortress. Although her heart screamed with joy at the sight of familiar rooms, smells and sights, the faces of her brothers left her with no illusions.

She swallowed loudly as she saw the hateful look on Jace's face; she knew him and she knew that he was hurt.

He was disappointed and heartbroken, he felt humiliated and, deep down, betrayed by her, even though she never meant it.

Luke clearly didn't know what he felt himself, because he just lowered his head, unable to look into her eyes.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the sight, a discomfort in her stomach that told her that perhaps this wasn't her home at all anymore.

She was no longer welcome here.

She was snapped out of her reverie by Rhaena − her step-sister was the first to approach her, warmth and longing in her gaze, some kind of understanding from which she felt tears under her eyelids. They hugged each other tightly, though they had never done so before − her words made her feel a tightening in her stomach.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice, and she smiled involuntarily at her words.

"Me too."

As Baela approached them, also enclosing her in the tight embrace of her arms, she thought with a shrug that even though she hadn't let them into the depths of her heart for so many years, they truly cared and worried about her.

At the very end Joffrey ran up to her, sobbing loudly.

"− why have you been so long in King's Landing? − why did you leave us? − Jace wouldn't read me my favourite book −" He mumbled cuddled into her belly, her hands combing through his dark curls with the calm motion of her fingers.

"− forgive me − I'm here −" She said softly, looking at her older brother and swallowed hard, seeing the murderous glances they exchanged over the table with her husband.

She looked at her mother, who nodded, understanding what she wanted to convey to her.

"You are certainly exhausted. Take up your old quarters, daughter, I will immediately command them to be brought to order and prepared for you." Rheanyra said calmly, and she bowed before her.

"Thank you, my Queen." She said softly, looking into her eyes. Her mother swallowed hard and nodded, allowing them to leave.

As they stepped inside her chamber, she felt a squeeze in her heart and some kind of elation; all her belongings were in their places exactly as she had left them, as if no one had been allowed in here since she had been forcibly held in the Red Keep.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when her uncle moved ahead of her, strolling around the room with his hands folded behind his back, intrigued.

It seemed to her that some part of him wanted to understand what her life had been like and who she had been for the eight years during which they had been separated.

She saw him walk over to her old oak desk and run his fingers over its top, thoughtful.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually.

She felt heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that he meant the place where she had written letters to him.

"− yes −"

She swallowed quietly as he hummed at her words, watching as he sat in the chair where she sat many times leaning over the parchment, scribbling words on it meant only for his eyes. He tapped his finger on the armrest, turning to face her in profile as he gazed out of the window, apparently absorbed in memories.

She thought that although her return home had proved more uncomfortable than she had thought, she was grateful to him.

Whatever decision he had made that morning had led them here and was proof of his intentions.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said quietly, smiling at him, wanting him to know she wouldn't force him to sit at the same table with her family.

She thought she would spend the evening with him, give him the feeling that she was not speaking with anyone behind his back, and perhaps in the morning, before they flew away, she would ask him so that she could speak to her mother at last in peace and solitude.

Comforted by this thought and the fact that it looked like all was not lost, she began to tell him about her life in Dragonstone, to show him the books she had written to him about in her letters, the places she had flown to on Larax.

It seemed to her that her husband was only partially listening to her; his gaze was thoughtful, his face expressed weariness and discouragement. She knew that something was making him uncomfortable and she suspected that it was about the place they were in; however, she did not know how to help him, to give him the feeling that neither he nor she was in danger here.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −" She finally made an attempt to find out what had been on his mind since the morning. He shuddered at her words and looked at her with a horror as if he was about to faint.

"I'm tired." He replied quickly, without thinking, as if he wanted to answer her anything just to end the subject. She sighed quietly, recognising that she couldn't push him too hard.

Not after what they had managed to accomplish.

"Let's go to bed."

She felt a squeeze in her throat as, already lying on the bedding, she watched as he took out his dagger and tucked it under his pillow; she looked at him and met his calm, impassive gaze.

She decided not to say anything, understanding where his caution came from, not wanting to discourage or frustrate him.

She smiled involuntarily, content as his body clung to hers as soon as he lay at her side. She heard him murmur as she snuggled his face between her breasts, felt his arms embrace her waist and tighten around the material of her nightgown on her back.

She loved it when her mother sang lullabies to her when she was a child; it always calmed and soothed her. She had never dared to sing to him when they were children, fearing that her voice was too squeaky and unpleasant, but now she decided that maybe that was just what he needed.

So she sang, humming softly, once in a while placing a warm, lingering kiss on the top of his head − she felt his embrace slowly growing weaker, his muscles relaxing, his breathing quiet and even.

She sighed quietly feeling him fall asleep.

Someone's jerking and growling roused her from a deep sleep; when she opened her eyes for a moment she didn't know where she was or what was happening.

She recognised her chamber but did not know what her uncle was doing in it, convinced that he still had not answered her letters, as he had not done so for eight years.

After a moment, however, her mind seemed to regain focus and she remembered that she was his wife after all, and that his silhouette lying beside her was not a figment of her imagination.

She raised herself up on her elbow seeing that his body convulsed once in a while, as if he was trying to break free of something, whimpers and grunts came out of his throat, however, his mouth did not open, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes one by one.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!" She called out, grabbing his arm, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

She was frightened and jumped back as his eye opened suddenly, his figure rose to sit up, and he began to pant like a wild animal, quivering all over. She looked at him in disbelief, horrified to hear that he was struggling to catch his breath.

Was he having nightmares again?

Was he dreaming again of the night he lost his eye?

"− easy, my love − breathe −" She whispered tenderly, gently touching his back; he flinched all over and looked at her as if he didn't recognise her − his eye was wide open, his nostrils twitched in accelerated, heavy breaths.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled like a small, terrified child and fell into her arms, bursting into a sob so loud that the voice stuck in her throat.

She embraced him immediately, letting him find protection and comfort in her arms, stroking affectionately his hair and back, placing warm, soft kisses on the top of his head in an attempt to reassure him.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She mumbled, feeling that the fabric of her nightgown was all wet with his tears, his hot, broken breath enveloping her skin.

She felt like he wanted to melt into one with her, to hide deep inside her from whatever it was that scared him.

He was silent for a long moment, trying to calm himself; she hushed him tenderly, whispering that he was safe, that she was by his side, that all was well. She finally heard him swallow hard, his voice trembling and uncertain.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −" He muttered. She blinked, twisting comfortably in her seat, feeling her heart begin to beat faster.

"− I'm listening to you, my love −" She whispered, stroking his hair. She released him from her arms when she felt him wanting to rise.

He sat on the bedding with his side facing her, running his shaking hand over his face, his healthy eye closed as if afraid of what was about to leave his mouth.

"− I − fuck −" He began, swallowing hard − her hand rose to his back, stroking it reassuringly.

"− easy − take your time − start from the beginning −" She encouraged him softly, not wanting him to fall silent again, seeing that he wanted to throw off whatever had been weighing on his shoulders since they had left Harrenhal.

"− you may remember − Lord Strong wanted to speak with me soon after we arrived in Harrenhal −" He said uncertainly, and she nodded, reminding herself that this was indeed what had happened.

"− yes −"

Her uncle swallowed hard, drawing in air loudly.

"− he told me at the time − that my grandfather had no intention of letting your mother and Daemon leave the Eyrie alive if it turned out they wouldn't accept our terms − but now I think they wouldn't have left alive anyway − Larys had his spies there −" He muttered and fell silent, freezing completely as she did, her heart beginning to pound like mad.

My grandfather had no intention of letting them leave the Eyrie alive.

"Will you be by my side even when all is lost? Even if there is nothing left but darkness? Is that what you had in mind then?" She mumbled out in pain, feeling that there was a complete void in her mind. "Will I be there for you even if your grandfather kills my mother?"

"− n-no −" He began quickly. "− will you be there for me even if I fail to prevent it knowing that I didn't tell you −"

She felt a constriction in her throat and lower abdomen, felt tears of disappointment and sadness flowing into her eyelids − now it was her body that trembled in convulsions, his gaze full of shame and horror directed at her.

She sucked his cock, she let him take her, and he knew that the next day her father and her mother could be murdered.

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head and laughed low.

"− you will betray me − you will run away − those are your words, aren't they? − you were always the first to accuse me − was it because you were trying to cover up your own conscience? − you wanted me to let you down so that you wouldn't feel guilty about doing it over and over again? −" She asked with a cold mockery, from which he bowed his head in embarrassment, in a subconscious reflex he had inherited from his mother plucking the cuticles around his fingernails.

He did not answer.

"− what should I do now? − divorce you? − say I won't come back to King's Landing with you? − not speak to you for eight years? − tell me, uncle, what do you think you deserve? −" She asked dispassionately, feeling the tears of rage and grief one by one run down her cheeks.

She saw him tremble at her words and curl into himself, as if he were again the same little boy who had cried in her arms when his mother had reprimanded him for inappropriate behaviour.

She pressed her lips into a thin line as he hid his face in his hands and wept helplessly, as if his whole person, everything he had built around himself was just falling apart in front of her eyes, showing him his insides, what was left of him.

He was vulnerable.

"− fuck − I − I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd change your mind − that if you warned them they'd see it as a betrayal and wouldn't want to pact − that's why I didn't let any of us stay in the Eyrie − I −"

"− because my mother agreed − but what would you have done if things had turned out differently? −" She asked coldly, and he swallowed hard, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he could not bear what he felt or this conversation.

"− I don't know − I don't know how I could have protected both you and my family then − what decision of mine would have saved you from death −" He muttered and she pulled herself up from the bed, recognising that she didn't feel like listening to this, that she had had enough of him and his guilt when it was always him, him, him disappointing her.

From the first night she had returned to him, when he had closed her cheeks in the brutal grip of his fingers she had seen in his eye what had now become clear to her.

He was weak, and when he was afraid, he resorted to violence.

She heard him stand up behind her, panting heavily, wiping his tear-wet face with his hand.

"− no − don't leave − I told you because −"

"− because your conscience didn't give you peace − because you didn't want to carry your guilt alone −" She hissed, turning towards him with furrowed brows.

She felt that fury, not blood, was flowing through her veins now.

He swallowed loudly at her words, looking at her wide-eyed.

"− if you've never hidden anything from me − you've never concealed anything from me for fear that I might react impulsively, leave − but if you did, come back to bed − I won't touch you −"

She pressed her lips together in fury, recognising that he must have been mocking her, but then she felt an unpleasant sting in her heart that proved she had doubts.

She heard again the words of one of her servants in King's Landing whispering in her ear that when the time came, Prince Daemon would help her escape; she heard again the words of Alys speaking of the prophecy she had not shared with him for fear of his reaction.

Had she really never hidden anything from him?

Her whole body screamed for her to leave; she wanted to do it, but felt that if she did, she would be lying to herself and to him, creating an image in which she was without flaw.

She could say that she had the right to do it, that she had good intentions, but didn't her uncle think the same about his decisions?

She glared at him and let out a loud breath, returning to the bed without a word, sinking into the soft sheets, turning her face away from him. She heard him breathe heavily, and after a moment, the bed creaked under the weight of his body settling against her back.

"− tell me −" He whispered.

She sighed heavily and grunted, recognising that her faults were less than his anyway.

So why did she still feel shame and a squeeze in her gut?

"− after I tried to take my life I was told that my father could help me escape − don't ask how − I also didn't tell you about the prophecy I heard from Alys −"

"− that fucking witch is a liar −" He growled, and she let out a loud breath, impatient.

"− it is possible − but I also heard this prophecy from your sister's mouth − both of them spoke of two rivers of blood merging into one, taking the shape of a dragon's crowned head −" She choked out finally, her husband stirring beside her in his place, surprised.

"− what could this mean? −"

"− I don't know − I was afraid that when you heard it, you would want to give up on the negotiations and return to King's Landing − Alys warned me, so she probably knew what your grandfather was planning to do −" She said regretfully, thinking that strange woman was more concerned for her safety and her family than her husband.

She heard him swallow hard, letting the air out loudly.

"− forgive me −"

She lay in silence for some time, feeling anger that he expected her to simply forget everything, understand his reasons and forgive him as always.

No.

"− I will forgive you, but I have my conditions − we will stay here longer − for a week or two, I will decide in the morning −" She said coldly.

"− but − my mother will be convinced that they are holding us by force −" He began, but she would not let him finish.

"− you will write a letter to your brother informing him that my mother has accepted his terms, but is also setting her own − that we will stay here to discuss all the details, show our goodwill − if your mother wishes, she can travel here in her own person − you can leave Dragonstone when you wish, but I will stay here as long as I desire, and you will show no opposition −" She said impatiently, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her hands clenched into fists.

Her husband swallowed loudly at her words, tense.

"− I − very well −" He muttered finally, knowing that any other words would forever cross him out in her eyes.

She hummed under her breath, covering herself tightly with the bedding and closed her eyes, figuring she wouldn't turn towards him for the rest of the night.

"− don't try to take me or embrace me −" She commanded and he sighed quietly.

She swallowed hard when she felt him place his large hand on her head and begin to stroke her hair exactly as he had when they were children.

She felt furious that it was so pleasant, so soothing, that he knew she loved it.

"− my Rhaenys −" He whispered tenderly. She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

The next morning she was awakened by a rustling noise and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment; she lifted her sleepy eyelids and saw his silhouette sitting behind her desk, bent over a letter he had apparently just written.

She felt strange at the thought that he was sitting in the exact place where she had spent years writing him messages that had never received a response.

She knew, however, that she now had the upper hand over him and that her word was an order to him.

She was not going to imitate his cold nature and not speak to him − they had to maintain a semblance of at least a warm relationship so that the image of their marriage, on which the whole agreement between the two parties was supposed to be based, did not begin to crack.

He lifted his gaze to her when she stood up, but they did not exchange a word between each other.

He did not know what to say.

Her maidservant walked in at her summons and bowed before her, bending her head humbly.

"− Your Grace, will you have your morning meal before your travel? − your mother would like to speak with you before you leave for King's Landing −"

"− we will have a meal, but convey to my mother that there is no rush − my husband and I have decided to stay here for a few weeks as an expression of our sincere intentions − my husband is in the process of conveying this message to his brother − my uncle is in need of new garments, provide them for him without delay and bring them to my chamber −" She said calmly; her servant blinked, shocked and nodded, immediately disappearing behind the door.

Despite what she had learned and the rage she felt, she was pleased − the roles had been reversed and although her husband was not her prisoner, he was attached to her and was forced to stay in a place that disgusted him.

Good, she thought.

She wanted him to feel what she had felt during the month she had spent in King's Landing, imprisoned by his mother and grandfather.

"− I wish to spend this afternoon with my mother − if you so desire, I can show you in which chamber the library is located −" She said lightly, without looking at him however, taking a bite of bread spread with confiture. Her husband rolled his eyes, displeased.

"I have no intention of leaving your quarters." He replied indifferently.

She raised her eyebrows in amusement at his words.

"You are not my prisoner, uncle. You can walk and fly wherever you please. Holding someone by force is not in my nature." She murmured softly − her husband gave her one tired look.

She smiled at him in a way from which he swallowed hard and looked away, sighing heavily.

He knew she was enraged and he wasn't going to get in her way.

One of the aspects she enjoyed upon returning home was that she had finally retrieved all her robes; her uncle looked at her from the side, watching as her servants helped her put on a golden gown with long black sleeves that reached the ground.

"− make braids around my head − my husband adores it when I wear this hairstyle, is he not? −" She sneered, glancing at him over her shoulder. She only saw him roll his eyes, running his hand over his face, not saying a word.

He knew he had to endure everything she was throwing at him with humility if he didn't want to make his already bad situation worse.

She had no idea what he could do to regain her favour, her trust, the respect she had for him.

"− have a pleasant day, husband −" She threw over her shoulder, leaving him alone in the chamber, recognising that she did not care what he did.

As she stepped into her mother's quarters, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, putting down the quill she held in her hand, approaching her with surprise and uncertainty written on her face.

"− is it true? − are you planning to stay in Dragonstone? −" She asked in a trembling voice − she smiled and nodded. Her mother sighed in relief and walked over to her, embracing her tightly with her arms, snuggling her head into her neck.

They pulled away from each other after a moment, her hands gripping her cheeks, her thumbs stroking her skin as if she remembered a time when she was still a small child.

"− let's sit down −"

Being in her chamber again was like a dream to her − she couldn't believe she was sitting at the same table again, surrounded by the same furniture and bed with a red curtain, with the windows open to a view of the great sea.

"− does he treat you well? −" She asked suddenly, taking her hand in her own.

Her mother's question surprised her, but it also filled her heart with warmth and emotion.

"− I − yes − despite his harsh, difficult nature −"

"− so how did he let this happen? −" She asked, exposing a part of her wrist with her thumb, where her pale scar was clearly visible. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what to answer her.

She wanted to tell her about the moon tea, but hesitated.

She didn't want her to think that her husband knew about it, that he was a worse person than she assumed.

It devastated her to think that she still had to tell half-truths.

"− I did it as an act of desperation − when he found out he wouldn't leave my side for weeks − he wouldn't let anyone but himself, Helaena and the maester cross the threshold of my quarters − he let me see Luke −" She muttered, looking at her at last. Her mother lowered her gaze, sighing quietly, tired and pale.

"− when Daemon passed on your words to me, I was furious − I didn't understand how you could do this to me −" She began and fell silent, closing her eyelids for a moment.

She felt an all-consuming shame at the thought that she had failed and disappointed her as a daughter.

"− forgive me − I would never question your rights if it were only about you − but you know very well that it is not −" She said cautiously − her mother lifted her gaze to her and nodded.

"− I know −"

They fell silent for a moment.

"− can I trust him? − your husband − and my brother −" Her mother asked coldly; she raised her gaze to her, surprised to feel that her lips involuntarily parted.

I don't know.

"− yes −" She muttered. "− he refused Maris Baratheon to take her as his wife − he himself proposed a form of compromise, and his elder brother supported him − Aegon is not a good man, but he cares about his children − he knows he will not leave them a secure, safe throne − just as you would not leave it to your sons −"

They said no more.

She spent some more time with her, just holding her hand, wordlessly trying to comfort her, thinking with weariness that she had to give up everything that was rightfully hers.

She finally decided to take pity on her husband and return to her chamber, not wanting to leave him alone for so long in a state of anxiety and uncertainty.

She felt her heart stop as she stepped into her quarters and saw no one inside − a cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him leaving her.

He had returned to King's Landing without her.

She pressed her lips together, involuntarily feeling her heart begin to pound like mad with pain and sadness, her eyes glazed over with tears that she was ashamed of, thinking it shouldn't hurt so much, and yet it did.

She looked around the room quickly, looking for a letter or anything else that might say he had left her some word, but found nothing of the sort; she shuddered when she heard someone's dim voices in the distance and walked over to the window.

Her father and her uncle stood facing each other on the beach with their hands folded behind their backs, discussing something animatedly, a clear tension between them.

She felt regret towards herself, her body filled with an overwhelming relief that he had not left her, that he had not betrayed her again.

She thought the gods had been cruel, allowing her to love this man so deeply.

She blinked, startled, when she heard the door from her chamber open; she turned and saw the figure of her eldest brother, who only spoke up when they heard a loud clatter of wood behind them.

"− how could you do this? − choose him over us? −" He growled with regret, resentment and disappointment, his big brown eyes filled with anger and pain from which she felt a tightening in her throat. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.

"− we both know what the truth is − you can't rule with lies −" She replied, shrugging her shoulders; Jace moved towards her and she flinched all over, surprised at how pale he was, his lips tightened into a thin line − she had the impression he was trembling all over.

"− this was my inheritance − my throne − my crown − and you chose him, a man who did not write back to your letters for eight years, who humiliated you by calling you a bastard, and you shared a bed with him the first night you saw him, like some... −" He didn't finish and fell silent, the word he wanted to say stuck deep in his throat. She felt her lower lip tremble at his accusation, her eyebrows arching in pain and anger, her eyes red from tears of shame and humiliation.

"− say it − you've already spoken the word in your mind −" She sneered, lifting her chin higher, challenging him.

"− I won't call you an unworthy name −" He muttered lowly, and she laughed involuntarily at his words, shaking her head.

"− you think that makes you a better man? − look at this −" She hissed, lifting her hand up, exposing her wrist tugging impatiently at the material of her black sleeve. "− here is what I have done for you and for your crown − should I do it again? −"

She swallowed loudly, surprised when she noticed that something in her brother's expression had changed − Jace had grabbed her wrist and locked it between his fingers, but there was no aggression in the gesture, his thumb stroking her smooth, bare skin.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing loudly; she felt that there was a kind of tension between them from which her heart was pounding like mad, but she wasn't sure what it was caused by; something in his gaze, in his brown, misty eyes and parted lips, made her feel hot.

"− do you love him more than our mother? − than Luke, than Joffrey? − than me? −" He asked in a trembling voice and she shook her head, not understanding what he meant.

"− Jace − it's a different kind of love − I −"

"− what kind? −" He hissed. "− the kind where you're constantly betrayed? − in which someone mocks your parentage? − locks you up like some prisoner? −"

Gods.

"− Jace −" She gasped, feeling that something in his questions, in his gaze, in what he wanted to hear from her had broken her down, her whole body began to quiver.

She shuddered as he approached her suddenly, as his free hand cupped her warm cheeks, as his forehead pressed against hers, his voice trembling as the words left his throat like a river.

"− I am your oldest brother − you were born to be mine − I would be good to you − you know I would −"

"− brother, what are you saying? − you had no objections when my mother decided to marry me to Ronnel −" She said disapprovingly, furrowing her brow in anger.

"− it was our mother's decision − how could I oppose her? −" He asked with a frown, as if he really believed what he was saying, a cold shiver ran through her body as his thumb ran over the soft skin of her cheek, hot with emotion.

"− you have never loved me − not in this way, we both know it well − you have always preferred to lie to yourself rather than face the truth − you do not look at me as the woman you desire, but as an inheritance that was taken from you −" She said with pain, feeling that what he was saying was not due to any deep feeling he had for her, but to his anger that she was not waiting for him docilely like his throne and his crown.

Her brother swallowed hard at her words, his hot, ragged breath enveloping the skin of her face.

"− when you were born, our mother told me that you might be my future wife − and I always, always saw you this way −"

"− you mocked me with Aegon −"

"− I craved his attention − he was older and impressed me − didn't you do anything you regretted as a child? −" He muttered wearily; she felt her heart stop at his words, a drop of cold sweat run down the back of her neck.

What was she supposed to answer him?

"− brother − I am married to another man − of my own free will −"

"− you are a traitor −"

"− how dare you −"

"− you are a traitor, but I still am unable to hate you −"

A squeal of terror stuck in her throat, her body froze completely as his lips pressed against hers in a greedy, hot, sticky kiss, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, refusing to let her move away.

She cried out and pushed him away − before he could make any move her hand slapped him in the face so hard that he took a few steps back, clutching his red cheek, panting heavily.

"− get out −" She muttered, placing her hand over her heart, feeling as if it was about to burst out of her chest. "− get out of my chamber, brother − I'll forget this...conversation ever took place −"

Jace swallowed hard, horrified and ashamed, as if it had only now occurred to him what he had actually done.

What would Baela say if she saw this?

It seemed to him that they both couldn't believe he had done it − Jace had turned and walked out, leaving behind an open door and a complete blank in her mind.

She thought he wanted to take it out on their uncle, to take away something that belonged to him.

That she was just an object for him on which he had decided to vent.

She thought with pain that he, unlike her husband, had never tried to truly understand her.

When her uncle returned to her chamber they did not exchange a word − he seemed distracted and frustrated to her. He took one of the books from the bookshelf and sat by the fireplace, pretending to read. She lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers, thinking only of the fact that if she hid it from him, she would be just like him.

She didn't know for a long time how she should put it into words, but she figured he'd be furious either way.

"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −" She muttered, glancing at him fearfully − his eye opened wide, looking at her in disbelief, his jaw clenched in such a way that a shudder went through her.

He was silent for a moment, as if he had run out of words, which frightened her even more.

"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, closing the book with a loud slam, pulling himself up from his seat like an enraged bear.

"− he kissed me − grief and humiliation took his mind away − I − wait − gods −" She muttered, standing up as soon as he headed towards the door, which he opened with a loud clatter, running out into the corridor after him.

"− Aemond − no, no, no − stop! −" She hissed, grabbing his arm, but he pulled away from her, opening door after door until he found himself in the right room − Jace and Beala were sitting together at a table, apparently discussing something.

Her older brother rose from his seat and turned pale at the sight of them, horrified.

Her husband walked into his quarters with a wide, menacing smile, exactly the same one he bestowed on him and Luke when they saw him duelling with Criston Cole in King's Landing. He put his hands behind his back, shifting his body weight to one leg, cocking his head.

"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −"

"− Aemond −" She said warningly, but her uncle didn't listen to her, his healthy eye wide open, as if he was just waiting for this.

An opportunity for confrontation.

"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered amused, revealing his teeth in a wide grin full of feigned recognition.

"− Aemond, that's enough −"

"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela thundered.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she knew nothing.

She moved ahead and stood in front of her husband, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"− we are leaving −"

"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −"

"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"

"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He murmured in a voice filled with poison, from which a strong shiver ran along her back.

"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela hissed, furious that her betrothed simply looked at their uncle and remained silent, unable to get a word out.

"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He directed his words to her, to his sister, sadness and regret in his gaze, from which she involuntarily felt sympathy.

"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" Her husband hissed, gripping her cheeks in his hand − her voice stuck in her throat as his fleshy lips clung to hers in an aggressive, loud kiss, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat.

She sighed as he turned her back to him, pressing her brutally against his chest and grabbed her neck − she grasped his wrist as his free hand slid down her lower abdomen, his fingers dug into the material of her gown beneath which her womanhood lay, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out into her ear and she closed her eyes, feeling with horror and disbelief that her nipples had hardened, that her walls had clenched around nothing at his embarrassing words, feeling his finger tease what lay between her thighs despite her resistance.

"− u-uncle − stop −" She muttered, a moan stuck in her throat as she felt his erection behind her throb hard at her words, pushing against her buttocks, his fingertips dug deep into her folds hidden beneath the fabric.

Gods, he wanted her brother to watch this.

Baela looked at Jace as if she suddenly understood everything, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.

"− what did you do? −" She asked quietly, her older brother shook his head, all red, turning his face away, unable to look at it.

"− I −" He didn't finish; her uncle let her go immediately, panting loudly as she did when Daemon walked into the chamber, looking at them, then at Jace and his daughter.

He grinned.

"− what is the meaning of this...commotion? − hm? −" He asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement and mockery; she looked away and glanced at her uncle, shaking her head with furrowed brows, letting him know that he was to remain silent.

Her husband pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not utter a word.

They stood in awkward silence, with only the quiet fizzle of the blazing fire in the fireplace around them.

"Mmm." Her husband hummed and turned away, heading for the door. Not knowing what to do, she simply moved after him, casting only one apologetic glance at Baela.

When they finally returned to her chamber she let out a loud breath.

"− what was that supposed to mean? −" She asked in frustration, wondering what had possessed him.

She tried not to think about how embarrassingly wet she was now.

"− I don't know what you're referring to, wife − I've merely shown my nephew the depth of my understanding as to his desire −" He grinned, grabbing a jug full of wine, pouring himself a full cup of it.

She licked her lower lip in impatience, standing still and watching him − their gazes met as he raised the goblet to his lips and took a deep sip from it.

"− what − are you wet now? −" He sneered and she felt a hot wave of shame surge through her body − she felt like her cheeks had turned scarlet.

"− don't mock me − this was humiliating −" She growled, furrowing her brow, a smirk on his face that she didn't like.

"− if you say so, wife −" He muttered, approaching her lazily, playing with his cup in his hand, raising it to his lips again "− I, however, think you'd rather I did something else −"

He said and took another sip of wine, swallowing it loudly, towering over her with a look from which a pleasant shiver ran through her core.

"− I think you'd rather I fucked you good in front of him − for me to slip my fingers under your skirt and sink them into your leaking cunt −" He murmured, leaning over her so that the tips of their noses were almost touching, her walls swelling all over at his words − she felt a drop of her own wetness run down her thigh.

"− am I wrong? −" He asked, cocking his head curiously, taking another sip of wine from his goblet without taking his eyes off her.

She drew in a loud breath as he set his cup down on the table standing beside them with a loud clang of steel, taking a step towards her, his lips parted in desire.

Gods, no.

"− don't touch me −"

She saw him squint his eyes as he hesitated, his nostrils flaring in accelerated breath.

She knew he was hard.

She knew he wanted to soften her up.

"Mmm."

She immediately summoned her servant wishing that she would help her pull off her gown and let her hair down. After this, she lay down in bed, covering herself with thick furs, not looking at him or speaking a word to him. She swallowed hard when she heard him lie down right next to her and closed her eyelids when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

She thought he would try to touch her, embrace her and give her a reason to push him away, but he just lay behind her back, driving her crazy.

She waited for some time, listening to his quiet breathing, and decided that he was surely asleep by now; her hand slipped silently into the material of her nightgown, lifting it up. She swallowed quietly, tightening her lips as her fingers sank into her leaking, soft, hot womanhood begging to be fulfilled, teasing and squeezing the bud between its fleshy folds.

She felt herself grow hot, her heart began to pound like mad at the indecent idea that these was his hand touching her in front of Jace, making him watch, wanting him to see what her fulfilment looked like.

She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at the thought, her fingers teasing the spot between her puffy folds with circular, intense strokes.

Involuntarily, her hips began to rock softly to the rhythm of the flicks of her own fingers, she felt that she was wonderfully close to fulfilment.

"− what are you doing? −" She heard his low, cool voice and froze completely. She swallowed hard, sliding her hand, sticky with her own moisture from between her thighs, and remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

"− go on −" He said in a hoarse, deep voice from which a shiver went down her spine. She heard a rustling behind her and then the sticky sound of skin slapping against skin − his hot breathing quickened, heavy and ragged. "− come on −"

She couldn't help herself; her fingers dug into her swollen folds again causing a wave of heat to pass through her body − she felt pleasant tickling sensations in her lips, fingertips and nipples. She moaned quietly when she felt his nose pressed against her hair, her hips involuntarily began to rock when she heard him begin to pant, the splats behind her getting louder, louder and louder.

"− fuck − you know I'd lick you good there − hm? −" He sighed and she felt her whole body quiver, her fingers teasing her puffy pearl all sticky from her own wetness.

"− mhgm −" She whined, tilting her head back, feeling his hot, uneven breath on her ear, his swollen, wet lips run down her neck.

"− are you leaking? − are you leaking at the thought of how good I would make you feel? − at the thought of your brother watching me fuck his little sister? −" He breathed out, and she moaned loudly as she felt a wonderful, relieved sensation at his words, her fulfilment shaking her like a hot, tickling wave.

Her slit pulsed all under her fingers as her own moisture leaked out of her, she shuddered when she felt his warm, rough tongue run across the bare skin of her neck, leaving a slick, wet mark on it.

"− fuck, Rhaenys −" He muttered and after a moment he gasped − she felt something sticky and warm spurt out onto the back of her nightgown.

His seed.

Gods.

She closed her eyelids, trying to calm her breathing, furious at herself and her weakness.

"− let me embrace you −"

"− no −"

She heard him huff, sighing heavily, his face still sunk into her neck.

"− move away, uncle −"

"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"

"− your wife does not wish for this −"

"− sleep −"

She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, thinking with frustration that she hated him with all her heart.

[neonovember]

Hello, uhm, so this MAY be an uncomfortable thing to request I’m not too sure. It’s totally totally okay if it is absolutely feel free to ignore this, but the way you write Carmen is so so comforting. I have this neighbor that lives downstairs from me, I’ve lived in my apartment for two years but the past 4 months with this guy has been hell. I live in the U.K. and the people that own the building and the police don’t view my situation as anything dangerous or serious, despite the fact I have made numerous complaints and even the other neighbors in my building have complained about him. But he targets me the most and bangs on my door at ungodly hours and threatens the most horrible stuff because I’m a woman living alone. I’m honestly terrified but unless he physically does something there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry for the sob story but usually I always try and just picture Carmy as something comforting to help through this until I can be safe, would it be okay to request something like Carmen finding out about his gf losing sleep and constantly being terrified and deciding to take matters into his own hands, and demanding she moves in with him and helps pack her stuff because he will NOT stand for that shit (again totally 100% okay if you don’t feel comfortable responding)

oh my god anon, I'm so deeply sorry that you have to deal with such a shitty situation, and the fact that you have to wait to be physically attacked before the police can do anything? Fuck the justice system and fuck law enforcement. Don't every feel scared to send a request to make your day or week or fucking month better, it's why I'm here, and the fact that my writing can make you feel even a little better is the greatest gift i could ever ask for. God I just hope you're able to remain safe, call a friend or family to keep them posted in case anything happens, I'm so very sorry honey :(

Broken bones and soup

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: misogyny, violence, feral!carmen makes an appearence, angst, horrible neighbours, angst, teeth rotting fluff, carmy feeding you

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: this was hard to write, i really wanted to do it right by you anon, and when have i ever written carmen without him breaking someones face?

The falling sun encapsulated the cerulean sky, exploding against the horizon in heated shades of orange, crimson and pink. The trail back to your apartment complex wasn’t long, but it gave enough time to bask in the warmth of evenings bathed in sunlight. It also conveniently enabled you to tell yourself you had gotten your sun for the day, rather than having to swallow pills you hated to swallow.

It was muscle memory however, your legs moved with the familiar comfort of the sidewalk, forgetting the stomach turning realisation of what had awaited you back at your apartment. 

It had been a couple months, four maybe 5, you didn’t really want to count the days having a violent neighbour moved in directly down your apartment. The other tenants who you've grown to know collectively bristled with the annoyance of a 30 something year old filling the usual peaceful nights with crashes and yells of broken plates and incoherent obscenities. 

When you had raised the issue to the landlord and even to the police, you had been shut down with a shrug of the shoulders. 

‘We can notice him with a noise complaint, but if he aint hurting anyone we can’t do much’. 

That had made you laugh a little then, before you had been close to bawling your eyes out and ripping out your hair. Sure he was loud, your neighbours from the other side of the apartment complex could attest to that, but it was so much more than loud fucking music, and somehow, you had bared the brunt of his violence. It was targeted, you knew it, and your legs began to shuffle at the thought of coming home to another violent outbursts at your door. 

You hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the past 4 months, waking up to loud banging at your door, and declarations of brutality he whispered through your keyhole. It was all empty threats, those men in clad uniform had told you when you woke up shaking with fear as he screamed taunts of murder from below, you had run out in your pyjamas and bunny slippers and they had told you they couldn't help you. 

There were not empty threats, and this wasn’t the hundreds of true crime shows you had binged, you felt it in your bones, you were a woman living with yourself for god sake, he was going to break down your door one day and hurt you, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt paralysed by the helplessness of it, forcing yourself to stay up past 12, the burn of your tired eyes forced open by the blue light of your phone, in case he tried breaking in. You had begun to keep a bat near your bed, a knife in the drawer of your bedside, and you felt fucking insane. Noone had made a major problem out of it, and yet you felt like he was one bad day from a murderous rampage.

Carmen could tell something had been wearing on your shoulders, the way your eyes blinked slowly, and the syrup slow movements of your limbs when you had visited the Beef not long ago. You couldn't bear to tell him, your past relationships had taught you enough not to unload all your problems onto another person, but it had gotten bad. You had started getting notices of concern from your boss, asking if you were alright, telling you how your performance had been declining.

You had quickly shut down any looks of concern thrown at you, this was something you had to deal with yourself, you didn’t want anyone, especially another woman to be faced with the brunt of his violence. You guzzled caffeine and energy drinks like it was water, and your limbs jittered with the rush of adrenaline until the peak had dropped and you felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

You braced yourself as you turned the corner into your apartment complex, keeping your head down, and going through the carpack to avoid the hallway that was right next to his door. You felt your stomach drop, your keys pressed between your knuckles and you flickered your eyes up to the door of his apartment. You watched it like a hawk, ready to flee at any sign of opening, and when you had finally made it to the elevator, you breathed a sigh of relief like no other. The air suddenly fills your lungs once again.

Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket, and you reached out to grab it, the screen illuminated by Carmen’s text. You felt a tingle of glee shoot through you, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing him today.

“You still coming today for the family dinner?”

The beef had begun a sort of tradition, every last Friday of the month, they would close early and hold a sort of family dinner right out back near the tables and chairs. Everyone of the crew’s family and friends were invited to join, some bringing a plate or a drink or two. It was the highlight of the month, and you hadn't missed a Friday ever since Carmen and you had become something more than close friends.

You typed out a quick reply with a tongue in your cheek, as the elevator doors opened, you didn't look up right away, walking with your head down as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. It was a fault on your end, you should have looked up, at least then you could have braced yourself as your neighbour stood stationed near your door with a cheshire smile stretching ominously across his face. 

You wondered if you could run back into the elevator, but the doors had closed well before and you feared turning your back to him was an even worse fate. You walked towards him, plastering on a smile that didn't look even a little believable.

“Something I can do for you?” You ask, your voice heightened by a mix of fear and false confidence

“Hear you've been complaining about me” The man replies with a smile, his hair slicked back, the shadow of a badly shaven skin spiking up. His shirt reeks of sweat and stains of spilt takeaway and you have to take a tentative step back to escape the stench radiating off of him.

“Yeah, you might not realise it, but you have been a bit- uh loud, and the loud banging on my walls?” You prouch him, and his eyebrows rise in surprise, shaking his head with a laugh that horrified you.

“Am I scaring you?” The man replies 

You swallow as your eyes flicker to his burnt hazel ones, they stare down from above, almost mocking in the way they forced you to answer.

“Uh, uhm- well, a lot of us got work in the morning, and I can’t wake up if you're making a lot of noise during the night”

“Oh, is that right?” The man asks, scratching a hand across his jaw

“Well no one's been the one complaining but you” The man replies

“I don't think so many of us-”

“You saying I’m a liar??” The man suddenly shouts, and you can help yourself stepping back a distance quickly

The man watches the way you distance yourself away from him, his eyes flicker to the keys poking out from between your fingers and he bites back a laugh.

“So you are scared of me, liar.” The man spits out with venom, before stepping towards you, caging you to the wall as he whispers near your ear

“You think fucking keys are going to stop me? A little lady like you living here all by yourself?” The man digs his fingers into your sides, until you howl out and retch yourself away from him, you reach for your right side, holding the skin above your rib cage that had begun to swell and bruise.

“See how easy that was? A fucking pretzel in my hand” The man calls out with a smile, before walking back around the hallway corner with such ease and comfort that told you he knew the police wouldnt do shit.

Your hand shakes as you shove your key into your door, you have to hold your own hand to put it in, before shouldering your way through your door with wince, and dropping your bag and belongings to the floor.

You rush into your bathroom, undressing before your eyes flicker to your mirror, seeing the red rash of irritation and the start of a purple imprint of his claws shoved into the skin below your ribcage. You wince as you try to soothe it, the salty tears breaking down your waterline, you can't stop, the wretched sobs of your helplessness echoing off the bathroom walls.

You climb into the shower, sliding down to the bottom as the tears shake through you, you hug your knees to your chest, letting the warm water combine with your salty tears, so they become one, and you know longer now how terrified you are. You stay in the shower like this for a bit, letting the warmth and steam wiggle your body from its stone encapsulation.

You can hear the familiar jingle of your phone ringing from where you had haphazardly left it, and the memory of today's dinner comes rushing in. You had nearly forgotten, and whilst you were terrified to leave your home and go back into the hallway where it had happened, you couldn't let Carmen down.

So you had gotten up, in the same way you had fallen down, and tried to scrub away the smell of his day-old cigarettes and sweat until your skin burned, poking your head through a clean shirt and a skirt that hid the painful purple splotch that had begun to spread across your side.

Entering your quaint kitchen, you can’t stop your arm as it reaches for the brown liquid stored in that old glass bottle Sugar had told you was a century old. You didn't have a little liquid courage to make it past your goddamn threshold.

You downed it in a gulp, reaching for your bag and a pocket knife, just in case. The reality of that decision broke you a little, when did you start needing to armour yourself?

Your phone buzzed from its position edged between the living room couch, it was Carmen, again, telling you he was outside. Carmen had begun to ceremoniously show up to your apartment as the autumn had begun to bleed into the winter nights, and the sunlight had stretched until darkness hit by 5 in the afternoon. Any other time you would have chastised him till the point where he would stop, but now, with the reality of your neighbour, you felt a relief wash through your body at the thought of being close to him. You also don’t doubt he would have shown up anyway, ignoring your requests in the way he does when he thinks it's his responsibility.

You wouldnt say you had a lot of experience in relationships under your belt, but something spoke to you from within, carmen was something special, this was special, sacred in the way destiny was, and you shooke with the relentless fear of fucking it up. And scaring him away with your problems seemed to be on the very top of that list

You shake the thought from your head as you shut the door quietly, take a brisk pace as you walk but kind of run to the elevator. A neighbour you knew well stood near the doors, his dark auburn hair falling in front of his eyes, he nodded to you with a silent smile. He kept to himself most of the time, and you didn't know much about him, just that he always was tugging a sleeve down his left arm, but he always went out of his way to give you some sort of greeting.

The air between you was silent, as you were waiting for the ping of the elevator to drop to your door, and you heard a shuffling near you, your eyes watching the way he coughed and stared at you from the corner of your peripheral vision.

“Heard something out in the hallway, it wasn’t him again was it?” The man replied, concerned about lacing his features as his eyes seemed to be fixated on the way you leaned on one side of your body a little.

“Uh no, it’s- it’s alright, I guess it was my dues you know? Dealing with a shitty neighbour at least once” You reply with a tight smile, trying to poke fun at the very depressing thought.

The man nodded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, your neighbours had known that he was loud, knew that you had dealt the worst of it being right above him, but they were clueless to his taunts and threats that he said into your door at night. You think the man next to you had an idea though, the way his eyes scanned anything like he was always assessing, always calculating the world around him. 

It was also because your neighbour was nowhere to be found whenever he was around, you whispered a prayer of thanks that he was taking the elevator down with you, with his sweatpants and top, it was like he knew, a silent nod of protection.

Before you could open your mouth to whisper a thanks, the doors of the elevator had opened, a tired mom and her two energetic kids passed between you both. It was funny, you could see yourself in her, the drag of dark circles and the hunch of her shoulders mirroring your own. 

You knew the very shakily painted on makeup did little to hide the exhaustion on your face and you rushed to enter the elevator to escape the thought. The motion of the elevator moving down nauseated you a little, churning your stomach in the way it always did with motion, but your apartment wasn’t big and soon enough the music of the elevator turned to a halt as the doors opened up to the ground floor.

You could see the headlights of Carmen's car through the automatic doors of your complex, and you gave your neighbour a smile before rushing to jump into the comfort of Carmen and his very, very warm car.

-- -

The car ride to the beef has been silent, just the syrupy beat of jazz from the car speakers and the burn of Carmen’s gaze searing a hole through you, you feared if you caught his eyes and the look in them the entire interaction today would tumble from your tongue.

You couldn’t ruin today, it was tradition, you had just begun to become folded into it. The joy of Tina calling your name for a hug, the talks about the new pastry ideas with Marcus, Sydney’s laughter, it soothes you like a balm, and you were sure the nausea crawling through your stomach would dissipate the second you entered.

But it didn’t, the beautiful lantern lights from outside the Beef glittered against the Chicago moonlight and the smell of Italian meatballs engulfed your senses and you still felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside.

You had said your hellos to everyone, biting back a yelp as Tina’s hand pressed against the bruise on your side, and nodding to Richie’s rambles whilst you felt outside of your own skin.

Your mind kept replaying the scene of him lunging st you, bristling your skin till goosebumps spread through, until your mind was exhausted from fear and well, fucking exhaustion and Carmen had to call your name too many times to rip you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Carmen asks with that soft honey tone he keeps for you.

You nod with a smile, and Carmen’s eyes shift towards your plate untouched. It was your favourite, a twist on Osso Buco and yet it laid un moving, Carmen knew it, you did too, and you held back tears as Carmen simply nodded, not sure if he was overstepping his boundaries.

It was the first lick of the start of something, the both of you, the bloom of a companionship Carmen felt was destined, like it was seared into the sand years before you both had even come into existence. And Carmen was new to this, and that opened up a whole can of worms, he didn’t want to fuck it up, he didn’t want to think about fucking it up, but god did he always seem to fuck it up.

You reached across the table to grab the jar of water, your shirt riding up without you noticing. Tina’s eyes widen at the peek of a purple imprint from under your shirt and she has nearly drops her fucking fork

“Baby? What happened to your side?” Tina replies with concern, her voice is quiet but the tables loud boisterous conversations begin to slow down.

You tug your shirt down, and you burn with guilt like you had been caught with this big secret. Carmen immediately looks towards your side, his eyes scanning the way you since a little as your finger brushes against it.

“Nothing, uh um I fell” You don't even believe yourself

“That looks more than something you get tripping over your feet darling, did something happen?”

“What? What’s she saying honey? What did you see Tina?” Tina’s gaze flutters to Carmen, and there’s a pause like she’s assessing whether it was Carmen’s doing before the reality of who he is hits her. It was ingrained in every woman, and Carmen wouldn’t be an exception. Even for a second.

“Looks like someone’s goddam fist imprinted into her skin” 

The restaurant is completely quiet now, and your head falls to your uneaten plate of veal, they look towards you in concern hearing the end of Tina’s words.

Carmen lifts your shirt, and you don’t stop him, the reality of your attack is shown right there in front of him, the imprint of a large hand bruising purple and blue.

Carmen’s eyes burn into the skin, his fists shaking as he remains silent, the rest of the family look on in horror, whispers of “holy fuck?” and eyes seeing the way Carmen practically vibrates, like he’s a second away from exploding.

“..Who did this?”

“It was my fault- I”

“Who did this baby? Who hurt you?” Carmen replies with an exhaled murmur.

“I’m, uh, Uhm- he- oh Carmen” You can’t get the words out, they’re stuck in your throat and you can’t get them out. You feel trapped, your body is sweating like you’re caged, like you're wading through a current and you're losing yourself to the weight of it, your breakdown on display for the whole world to see.

You blink back tears as Carmen tilts your chin to face him, and the look on his face, the look of distraught and fear that blossoms across his features un tetheres the tightly wrapped self control you had formed.

And Carmen scoops you up into his arms so that the entire family doesn’t have to see you break into his shoulder.

His soothing words are like a balm to your distress and he walks you, bridal style to the first aid cabinet, sitting you down on the counter, wiping away your tears as his fingers shake and his throat bobs with a tight swallow. He hastily tugs your shirt, kissing back the howls of pain as he whispers “I know, I know baby girl, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

His soft fingers press gently against the bruise as he rubs a heating ointment across it, he wraps a warm compress around it as bandage and his eyes are avoiding your own as he focuses his fingers on your skin.

“Carmen?” You whisper, the hiccups of tears resounding from your throat, Carmen reaches for a painkiller, placing it in your palm with a whisper of affirmation, he gently tips your head back as he pours water into your mouth, and you swallow it quickly, before looking back at him.

“Carmen? Please” You reply, had you done it, had you ruined everything?

“I can’t look at you because I fear I might break, and- and I can’t right now okay darling? I have to find, I have to find who did this, and I need to make it right, hm? I need to make sure your safe because god my heart is outside of my chest and I can’t feel anything but fear” Carmen replies with a tight low voice, his fists shake as he pressed them into the counter beside your thighs, but he looks up to meet your gaze anyway, and he smiles tightly as the tears stream down.

“Oh Carmen, this isn't on you, you couldn't have possibly known” You reply, wiping a hand across his cheeks.

“How can you say that? I am your, I am meant to protect you, and you, you come limping in without me noticing, fucking Tina saw it before I could, and i hate myself for it” Carmen replies, his cerulean blues shining bright against the shine of tears.

“Who did this, someone at work? A guy on the street?” Carmen replies and you flick away from his gaze, hand falling to your lap as your tongue burns with the desire to just say it all.

“You've got to tell me baby girl, you have to know I've got to make it right, I won’t sleep till I do. '' Carmen replies with a pained cry, like his heart is breaking from the thought of letting this go un avenged. And it's the tortured look on his face, it's the shake of his limbs like he wants to destroy and burn the entire world around him till he finds whoever has done this that uncurls your tongue and lets everything out in the open.

“What? This has been going on for months? Why didn’t you tell me?” Carmen replies, his thumb rubbing soft circles across your thigh.

“Didn’t want to scare you away Carmen, i love-i I like you a lot, more than I have anyone and I didn't want to fuck it up and unload all my problems onto you like a dumpster” You reply, and it sounds stupid when you say it out loud, and when Carmen looks up at you in disbelieved confusion.

“Huh? Oh sweet girl, I’m meant to help you bear it all, that’s why I'm here, and the idea of you thinking I'll love you any less, that I won't help you because of something like this haunts me. I’m meant to protect you yeah? That’s my fucking job, and I’ve failed it” Carmen replies with a grunt.

“No one has said anything like that to me” You say, eyes looking up to him, you weren't shocked, but you weren't, were not shocked, never had you experienced this, this burning adoration for another person, this soft warmth that burst through you at the sound of Carmen's voice promising his devotion, promising his unyielding protection. It armoured you more than a pocket knife ever could.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to your head, before shuffling around the kitchen, walking back into the dining tables, hushing out replies of ‘she's okay’ before coming back in with your things under his arm.

“What are you doing?” You reply in question, as he slowly picks you up with an arm, and gently places you back down. His eyes are constantly flickering to your side, like he’s torturing himself with the image of the first time he saw the horrific bruise across your side.

He had never felt true fear until then, the shatter of his heart beneath his breast as he realises you had gotten hurt and he didn't even fucking realise. Nothing had mattered but your safety and he scared himself with how much his body shook with a desire to destroy the person responsible.

“I’m driving back to your apartment, where you're going to grab your necessities, whilst I pay a visit to your little neighbour downstairs. You’re staying with me, for however long,” Carmen replies with a sneer, walking you through the back door, which you were all too thankful for, you couldn't bear to see the look on the crew’s faces if you had to walk back in.

“Carmen you can’t” You reply rushed, as Carmen slid you into the passenger seat, before clicking on your seat belt for you. He cocks his head, before raising his eyebrows

“Oh, I can’t? Honey, the police don’t do their job and my baby get’s fucking hurt. Nah, that doesn't work for me” Carmen replies, before rushing to enter the driver's seat, shifting the gear into drive before speeding down the city streets. 

His focused on the road, his face unblinking and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, you can’t stop looking at him, his gorgeous under the moonlight of the skies, his cheeks crimson from his tears, his cerulean blues calling to you like the sea, and the curl of his blonde hair falling like waves.

The view of your apartment complex comes into your vision as Carmen turns into the carpark in one swift move, you can’t stop the shake of your fingers and Carmen wants to slam his first into the steering wheel when he notices.

“You alright?” Carmen replies “You can stay here, I’ll grab whatever you need”

You want to stay, want to remain in the safety of his sleek tinted windows, but you want to face it too, and somehow that need is more important, he doesn’t get to win, no fucking way.

You unclip your seat belt, opening the door as you turn to him “You going to show me how you protect me or what?”

Carmen bites back a smile, god he was so fucking proud. He could tell you were scared shit less, and yet you fought through that fear, and god you mesmerised him. You were stronger than he could ever be, and he wanted to take that burden from you, carry it himself so you didn't have to.

Carmen jogs to the back of the car, reaching into the boot before the clunk of wood on gravel meets your ears. Carmen nods towards you, as he grips a bat under his arm

“He puts a bruise on you and i break all his fucking bones” Carmen replies, and you can’t stop the joy that image brings you

Carmen walks you to your apartment, waiting outside like a hawk, his bat tight against his grip as he watches the hallways, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you feel infinitly and utterly safe.

You throw your toiletries into a bag, grabbing a few nights of clothes and your work shoes. You eyes flicker around your apartment, it had been home to you for the past 4 years, and yet it felt so foreign to you now, you had grown to attest this place, this place you had filled with so much of yourself, and you hate him so much at that moment, for making you feel this way about a place you had once loved.

You leave your apartment with the door shut closed.

Carmen carries your bag and places them back into the back seat of the car, and as he begins to walk towards the apartment of your neighbour you reach a hand out to stop him.

“Honey, I’ve got to-” Carmen begins before you shut him quickly

“I want to watch” You reply quietly, and Carmen’s eyes flicker, before lacing his fingers into yours, as you both knock on his door.

There's a grumble before the clank of a chain slides open, and his face appears as the door opens to him, you can see the illuminated light of his TV glaring, the floor covered with pizza boxes and beer cans. You see in real time, how his face morphs from anger into fear, his eyes dropping as he sees the way Carmen practically shakes, and the man isn’t able to let out a word, a protest or wail of a plea before the crack of Carmen's wooden bat swings through the air.

-- -

“Are you sure he isn't dead?” You reply, as you dip a washcloth into warm water, wiping away the blood across Carmen’s neck

“He isn’t going to die if I wasn’t the one causing it, besides, if he does, that’s God finishing off the rest of it”. Carmen replies, raising his face so that you cleaned the last of the streaks of blood splattered across his jaw.

Carmen reaches for your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of them as he looks at you in that way like he yearns for you to be closer. 

“You need sleep, but first you need to eat, yeah?” Carmen replies, shushing your protests and he carries you to his room in his arms, after he notices the exhaustion in your limbs. It’s dark, illuminated only by the wall to ceiling windows that look into the busy city streets and light up sky scrapers. 

The sheets are strewn across the bed, haphazard like Carmen had rushed to get them off of him in the early mornings. Carmen slides you into them, tucking you within the soft pillowy blanket, sitting on the edge as he caresses your cheek softly.

He leaves for a moment, rushing to make you something to eat, his skin crawling with a need to feel you against him, nearly tripping over himself as he walks back into his room with a bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

Carmen sits next to you again, pressing spoonfuls of soup into your mouth and wiping the edges ceremoniously as you rest against the headboard half asleep. 

You don’t notice the way he looks at you, like he's trying to memorise every dip and curve of your face, his fingers clutching the spoon tight like he’s going to break if he doesn't hold you against him.

“Honey?” Carmen replies hushed

“Hmh?” You reply, your eyes heavy as the comfort of Carmen's warmth spreads through you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you tell me everything okay? Everything” Carmen replies pained, like the events that transpired somehow still were not resolved, like breaking the man's legs wasn't enough for him.

“Okay” You reply, and Carmen places the dishes onto the bedside table, leaving it to the morning because he can't keep you away from him any longer.

Carmen joins you in the bed, the left side of his bed finally taken by somebody for the first time in a long time. Tugging you against him, Carmen curls your body to lay against his chest, his fingers softly gracing your back, soft circles that had begun to lull you to a sleep you hadn’t felt in months, years even.

The beat of Carmen's heart joins with yours, together and entwined like how it was always meant to be, why had Carmen waited so long? Why had he let time pass without you tucked under him, safe within his arms and away from all the horrors of the world.

It’s only when Carmen notices the shift in your breathing, falling into a soft exhale before he even lets the whispers of sleep grip him within its grasps, his shoulders finally release from its tensed state once he knows you've finally fallen into a sleep that had been kept from you.

“You don’t know how much I love you baby girl, it fucking scares me, but I’ll keep reminding you until infinity if I have to, until you know it deep down like I do” Carmen mumbles out, his eyes falling heavy and you grips you against his chest.

You don’t really know how, but even between the state of sleep and consciousness, you hear him, and you whisper between the space in your bodies, that you already do.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Healing Bonds

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader(Past)

Summary: You find Yelena after Natasha, your ex-lover, has passed and you feel like it's your duty to keep Yelena close. What happens though when feelings rise up for the blonde Russian?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Lots of angst and hurt

A/N: So This idea had come to me after rewatching Endgame, Black Widow, and Hawkeye so here you go.

The first time you met Yelena Belova wasn't until after her sister and your ex-lover, Natasha Romanoff, died. Natasha had always talked about Yelena and how much she loved her. You cried when you first laid eyes on Yelena. The two looked nothing alike, and you were thankful for that because you don't think you could look at her if she did.

When you told Yelena who you were to Natasha, she cried, wishing for a million different scenarios in which her sister was still here with them, and all you could do was hug Yelena, which earned you a handful of punches. You learned quickly that Yelena could be a very violent person when dealing with certain emotions. The first time it happened, you let it. You let her get her aggression out.

"It's not fair! You had so much time with her! You got to be happy with her! Me? I got a mission that almost got us killed after 20 years of silence!" She yelled, and you just held her tighter. "I'm sorry, Yelena," You whispered over and over and over.

In those moments, as her fists collided with your body, you could feel the pain in her words. It wasn't just about Natasha's death; it was about the years lost, the missions that tore them apart, and the void left by the silence between them. You understood Yelena's anger, even if it was directed at you. It wasn’t as if she could direct it at the person she wanted to.

As the punches subsided, she finally collapsed into your arms, exhausted from the emotional storm that had consumed her. You sat there in silence for a while, the weight of Natasha's absence hanging heavily between the two of you. The room felt colder, emptier, and you couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at you.

"I wish she had more time with you too, Yelena," You said softly, your words barely audible. Yelena didn't respond, but her grip on you tightened, seeking solace in your shared grief.

In the aftermath of that turbulent encounter, the two of you began a journey of healing together. You were bound by the love you had both lost, and as the two of you navigated the tangled web of emotions, a new connection formed. A connection born out of pain, but one that held the promise of understanding and, perhaps, even redemption in the face of the losses you both endured in the wake of the Snap and beyond.

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You ended up taking Yelena home with you, offering her a permanent place by your side. She continued going on missions, which you had expected. The first time she left without telling you, and there was no note. You thought you'd lost her forever, sitting on the back porch in the summer evening air, your Y/H/C hair whipping around you as silent tears fell.

You didn't hear her come in, not until she was next to you did you notice her presence. "Why are you crying?" Her accent, thick and familiar, filled your ears as you grabbed her, pulling her in tightly, close, your heart hammering in your chest. "I thought I'd lost you too... don't... don't fucking do that again, Yelena!" You yelled at her, your voice trembling as tears flowed freely.

Yelena's expression softened as she held you, understanding the fear that gripped you during her absence. "I had to go. It was a last-minute mission, and I didn't want to wake you," she explained, her words a mix of apology and reassurance.

"It doesn't matter. Just... just tell me next time, please," You pleaded, your grip on her not loosening. The relief of having her back overwhelmed the anger that had fueled your outburst.

Yelena nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I promise. I'm sorry for making you worry," she said, her voice soothing. The two of you stayed there, entwined on the porch, the summer breeze carrying away the tension that had momentarily fractured your newfound connection.

From that day forward, Yelena kept her promise. She would leave for her missions, but not without a word or a note, ensuring that you wouldn't have to endure the heart-wrenching uncertainty of her absence again. In the quiet moments between her departures and returns, your bond deepened, and the scars of your shared losses began to heal, one mission at a time.

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You decided to form a company a little over a year after Natasha died, the weight of her absence still heavy in your heart. Standing at her grave, you whispered into the wind, "I'm going to start a company. I don't want to be an Avenger anymore. Not without you, but I can help others. I know I can." The breeze felt like Natasha's touch, a comforting caress that seemed to echo her approval.

"Yelena and I have been living together for six months now, Tasha. She's exactly as you described. A spitfire and a brat at times. I don't know if you can forgive me or not when I say this, but I could see myself with her. She's my type, a power bottom with a bratty side." You chuckled as the wind picked up. "Okay okay... I understand, only if she moves first," You whispered, as if seeking Natasha's consent in the elements around you.

Your company started up with few hiccups. You planned on making a business out of seeking out people with powers and talents that could be considered Avengers, teaming them up with a manager. Eventually, you aimed to expand to other countries, each with its own headquarters. The goal was to create a network of skilled individuals, ready to defend against threats on a global scale.

You envisioned a world where those of you left in America could stay here unless faced with a Thanos-level threat, something you fervently hoped would never happen again. The legacy of the Avengers would live on through this new venture, a tribute to Natasha and a commitment to protecting a world that had lost so much but still held the potential for hope and resilience.

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You come home to find Yelena sitting on the couch with a pot of mac & cheese covered in hot sauce, using a too-big spoon. "Y/N! I made mac & cheese! Would you like some?" she asks, and you’re too exhausted to yell at her. You sit next to her, taking the spoon and eating some. "How was your day?" she inquires.

"Stressful, Lena. More and more people are learning about my company, and we're getting more and more applications," You reply, leaning your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. You hear her set the pot down on the coffee table before she curls up against your side. "Anything I can do?" she asks.

You remind yourself of the promise you made to Natasha. "Whatever you think sounds good. You've known me for over a year now, Lena. What is it that you think I want? What will make me feel better?" You don't open your eyes or look at her. you’re testing her, and she knows it.

You feel her shift off the couch, and you clench your fists. She's never going to make the first move as you fiddle with the band on your ring finger—the one you haven't taken off since Natasha gave it to you.

Yelena returns with a blanket, draping it over both of you. "How about a movie night? We can just relax and take a break from all the chaos," she suggests, her voice soft. It's a simple gesture, but the warmth of her presence and the consideration behind her words start to ease the tension within you.

You nod, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, that sounds good, Lena," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. Maybe in that moment, amidst the mac & cheese, the too-big spoon, and the movie night proposal, you found a way to let go, even if just for a little while.

Yelena picks the movie while you change into pajamas, a tank top and shorts. You notice her eyes on your body, but choose to ignore it for the time being as you make popcorn and pour us some vodka sprites. Carrying the drinks and popcorn over, Yelena has picked out John Wick. You can’t help but chuckle at the choice as you settle back into the couch. Yelena moves closer, fitting into you like a puzzle piece as she takes your left arm and wrap it around her shoulders. You simply smile at the gesture, sipping on your drink and eating popcorn as the movie plays out.

About halfway through the movie, you feel Yelena absent-mindedly playing with the band Natasha had given you. She's engrossed in the movie, and you watch her, finding her reactions more enthralling than the movie at this point. It's a subtle touch, her fingers tracing the contours of the ring on your finger, and you can't help but be drawn to the way she navigates the emotions tied to Natasha's memory.

As the scenes of John Wick unfold on the screen, you lean your head against Yelena's, savoring the comfort of the moment. Her actions speak louder than any words, and in the quiet intimacy of that movie night, you start to understand that healing doesn't always come from grand gestures or elaborate plans. Sometimes, it's found in the simplicity of sharing a movie, a drink, and the touch of someone who cares. And in those stolen glances and unspoken connections, you find a new layer of solace, a fragile bridge between the past and the potential for a future where happiness is not just a memory but a living, breathing reality.

You whisper in Yelena's ear, "Tasha gave me the ring." Yelena is pulled from the movie, looking down at your hand that she's been playing with. "It was a promise ring. She got it for me in Budapest. Saying when things settled down, she'd do the whole down on one knee, and we'd have this beautiful wedding where she'd wear a black dress instead of a white one. Everyone would be there, and we'd go back to Budapest for our honeymoon. When we'd come back, we'd ask for a safe house where we could just live quietly between missions..."

You don't realize you’re crying until Yelena is wiping the tears from your face. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I'm ruining movie night, aren't I?" You choke on your own sobs, but Yelena just pulls you against her, hugging you tightly. "No, you haven't ruined anything, Y/N. It's okay."

You hold onto her, shifting slightly until she's in your lap, once again feeling like a puzzle piece as we bury our faces into each other's necks. "If you had gotten married, I hope she would have come found me to be her maid of honor... though I don't know how good I'd be at that," Yelena admits.

In that vulnerable moment, amidst the shared pain and unspoken understanding, Yelena's admission brings a bittersweet smile to your face. The weight of Natasha's absence still lingers, but in Yelena's presence, you find a different kind of strength—a strength born out of shared grief, compassion, and the subtle promise of moving forward, even if it's one tear-streaked movie night at a time.

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Yelena wakes you up, gently calling your name and crawling onto your bed. "Y/N... Y/N..." She speaks softly, shaking your arm lightly. In your half-awake form, you turn to face her, pulling her into a tight embrace, her face against your chest. You can smell her shampoo, pomegranates, and make a noise of content. "Y/N, I have to go," Yelena whispers.

"No," You refuse, not letting her go. In fact, you hold her a little tighter. "Yes, I must. The widows need me," she insists.

"I really don't want you to go... I worry so much every time you go out that door. I know you're the world's greatest assassin, but so was Natasha before you," You confess. Yelena cups your cheeks. "I'll come back. I promise."

Natasha said those exact words too. You feel the tears in your eyes, spilling over before I have a chance to stop them. They're down your cheeks and running over her fingers. "I know words mean very little. I know Nat said similar words. I'm not leaving, though. I'll come back. It's just freeing more widows that have been found. That's all. It's safe. I promise. None of them come close to my skills."

Yelena wipes your tears and assures you that she'll come back. You know you have to let her go. "Please just come back safe, Lena. Please," You lean your forehead against hers. "I can't do this without you," You finally confess.

"I'll come back. I'll always come back. You can't get rid of me, not anymore. You're too deep into this," Yelena tells you, and you look at her, searching her face. "Lena..." Gods, you want to kiss her so badly just to show her how much you need her, but you promised Tasha...

Yelena leans in, kissing your cheek, almost reaching your lips. It's the first time she's ever kissed you in any way. "I'll be back. A few days, that's all," she reassures, placing another kiss on your cheek before she leaves. She looks at you one last time with a smile before heading out, leaving you there, curled up into a ball and crying. Now, you definitely couldn’t lose her.

The weight of her absence already looms large, and the brief touch of her lips on your cheek lingers like a promise in the air. As you try to gather yourself, the echoes of Yelena's words and the warmth of her fleeting kiss become the anchor in the storm of your fears. You know you must trust her, just as Natasha had asked you to trust her own choices.

In the solitude of your room, you cling to the hope that Yelena will return, that the few days she's away won't stretch into an eternity. The scent of pomegranates still lingers in the air, a reminder of her presence, and you find solace in the belief that your connection, however fragile, will endure the challenges that lie ahead.

"Please tell me you'll count that as the first move, Tasha?" You ask, directing your words to the air as you look at the ring on your finger. There's a moment of silent contemplation, a silent conversation with a memory.

Then, you get up and get dressed, facing the day with a mix of vulnerability and determination. The echoes of Yelena's departure still resonate in your mind, but as you glance at the ring, you find a subtle strength. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but in that quiet acknowledgment, you feel the weight of a promise made, a connection forged, and a future that holds the potential for healing and new beginnings.

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"Yelena kissed my cheek; she almost kissed my lips, actually," You run your fingers across your cheek and the corner of your lip. "She had to go on a mission, and she told me the same words you did before you left me forever. I broke down. I seem to do that quite a bit with her now." You’re looking at Natasha's grave. It has been two years now since she left. "Tasha, I know we had our plans, and I will never forget them, but I want to move on... I need to, and in order to do that..." You pull the ring off your finger, twisting it between your fingers. "I need to give this back to you, darling." You’re trying not to choke on your tears as they flow freely down your face. You wrap it up in a little cloth, a red one, and bury it just a little ways down. "Please be happy for me, darling. You know she'll always treat me right." You are full-blown crying as you kiss her gravestone and head back home, hoping Yelena is finally home.

As you walk away, the weight of the past feels a bit lighter, as if the act of returning the ring is a step towards embracing the future. The pain is still there, the memories still vivid, but in the tears and the quiet goodbye, there's a sense of release and a tentative hope for what lies ahead. You head back home, your heart heavy but with a flicker of anticipation, hoping Yelena's absence will soon be replaced by her comforting presence.

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

When Yelena comes back home, she finds you crying on the floor. She picks you up into her arms and holds you as you sob. When you finally come to from your crying session and register that she's back, you cup her cheeks and slam your lips against hers a little rougher than you intend. You soften up a bit when you realize how rough you truly were.

"You're back..." you whisper against her lips.

"I told you I'd be back," she whispers back, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you back in. The two of you kiss, hungry and passionate, as if she's been waiting all her life for this moment. In the embrace of her arms, the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future momentarily fade away. There's only the warmth of the present and the promise of a new chapter, where healing and love can coexist, a testament to the resilience of the heart after weathering the storms of loss.

"Yelena..." You pull back, leaning your forehead on hers.

"I've been waiting forever for that," Yelena admits.

"I know you were grieving, so I just wanted to be here for you, and I was never sure if I should act on my feelings," Yelena tells you, and you give her a soft, quick kiss this time.

"I talked with Tasha about it and promised I wouldn't make the first move," Yelena laughs. "When was this?" she questions.

"A year ago at her grave. You were on a mission, and I went to visit her just before starting up the Avengers company. I told her about how I was falling for you and to not hate me for it. The wind whipped around me, and so I promised I wouldn't make the first move. When you kissed my cheek before leaving, I took that as you making the first move. I visited Natasha yesterday and told her about it and gave back her ring. I left it with her so that I could move forward," You explain, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief.

Yelena brushes her thumbs against your tear-stained cheeks and listens to your words. "I promise I'll live up to your expectations. I'll do everything I can to do right by you, Y/F/N," she says, and you chuckle at the use of your full name.

"I know you will, and so does Natasha. I don't think I could be in better hands than yours, Lena," You say, feeling a sense of acceptance and hope for the future. The weight of grief begins to lift, replaced by the promise of a new chapter, and the knowledge that love, even after loss, has the power to mend and rebuild.

[imaginesmai]

His precious treasure - Eris Vanserra

First time writing for Eris! Let me know what you think

Plot: Beron manages to ask the right questions at the wrong moment, making Eris suspicious of your safety. His hidden treasure in the forest, where he cannot get fast enough.

Warnings: mention of torture, death and blood.

His steps resonated through the long corridor, servants and guards bowing to his presence. They never met his eyes, not even when he was just a young prince who barely reached their waists. He used to fool himself thinking it was out of respect, out of fear. But Eris had learned that it was easier to ignore the problems of their loved court, the abuse, when they didn’t look at him.

Countless times he had walked down those corridors with blood streaming down his face, bloody nose and bruised eyes. Burned flesh and peeled skin. It used to bother him their indifference, but that day, he barely paid them any attention.

All his focus was set in leaving the palace he called home as soon as possible without looking suspicious, without letting anyone know the terror that threatened to paralyze him.

Eris could feel his eye bruising, the burn marks on his back and chest from his father later outburst. He didn’t mind the abuse, could endure it just fine. What was breaking his soul in two were the answers his father looked with that abuse, and that he had managed to hide. But Beron was asking questions he shouldn’t have been formulating.

“Tell me, my son. Why do I keep receiving notices of your disappearances? Why are my guards worried that you might be lacking in your efforts to keep this court standing?” Beron had asked before backhanding Eris in his office. “Should I be worried about your not-so-subtle trips to the forests?”

The excuse had fallen from his mouth naturally, like he had always planned. Testing the borders for possible threats, assuring the outer posts were functioning correctly, searching the ground with his hounds.

Eris had swallowed every hit and humiliation with a tight jaw, only answering when he was spoken to. He had closed you off the bond and hoped to be strong enough for you not to notice. Then, Beron’s had asked him that damned question and his resolution had cracked.

“You look distracted lately, maybe that’s why you keep forgetting to update me about your whereabouts” Beron snarled, as if the sight of the blood spilled by his hand unsettled him. Then, he locked his eyes with Eris and fire danced behind them, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s the recent lack of servants what has your mind busy. Strange and unexplained disappearances, right?”

He was sure Beron had bought his indifference, or he wouldn’t have let him go. But he still raced through the hallways, a bad feeling twisting his gut. Running would catch too much attention, yet he knew leaving after his father’s questions was an answer by itself.

Eris prayed to the Cauldron, to whoever had unanswered his prayers through his life, that he arrived to the cabin with enough time to make things right. If Beron was asking about missing servants, he could only be talking about you. The kind-hearted lesser fae who had the misfortune of being his mate.

Three years ago, Eris had almost burnt down the entire court one of his brothers got a little too handsy with you. As a servant, you were supposed to endure it and be thankful for his attention. But your heart belonged to Eris Vanserra in secret for almost a century, and you had denied his unrespectful advantages. That earned you a beating that had left you unconscious in the middle of the backyard, where Eris’ hounds had found you.

After weeks of healing in secret and convincing him not to slaughter his own court and find death at the hands of his father, only the promise of your safety had kept him still. He had taken you away to his hidden cabin, where you had been staying part of a cozy side-town, where no one recognized you.

Thoughts of the last three years flooded his mind as he jogged the last steps of the castle, quickly hoisting himself up in his horse and riding off into the forest. He pushed his mare to her limits, until the ground and the trees were nothing but blurry colors.

He wouldn’t waste time thinking why his father hadn’t acted yet, why he had been granted those few minutes to try and save you. The answer was clear when he smelt the uncharacteristic trace of blood in the quiet village.

Eris dismounted without stopping, his mare moving restlessly in the familiar cottage. His heart pushed furiously against his chest, blood rushing to his ears when he noticed the door hanging open by an unnatural angle. Male scents and horses’ prints were all over your hidden cabin.

“Y/N!” he screamed your name, not caring about anything but your safety. With everything about to change, he could throw secrecy as the last of his priorities. “My love, where are you?”

No answer came from the outskirts of the house, and Eris all but threw himself inside. The beating he had just endured almost sent him stumbling to the ground.

The insides of the cabin were a mess, just like his soul. Scattered papers and wooden furniture, broken plates, shattered windows. Fire embers started to fill the messy space as his laborious breathing turned panicked. He leaned against the wall where pictures lay now crooked, and tried to think what to do.

Where to look, who to kill, how to survive knowing his worst nightmare had come true. Eris had always feared having a mate, having someone to love and that loved him back, because he knew the world would take it away cruelly.

What he didn’t expect was the stairs creaking under your weight, and your disheveled head poking through the stairwell. Your eyes widened, at his state, his presence, or his blood. But he didn’t consider much apart from the fact that you were still breathing, somehow, and alive enough to be standing.

His body gravitated forward until you collided into his arms, the composure he had kept during the last hour crumbling like paper against water.

“Eris” you whispered against his chest and his breath hitched, your voice so concerned and soft against his worries. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“You’re alive. You’re alive” he repeated, twice, and willed himself to believe it. “I thought – the door was open, and you didn’t answer. Why didn’t you answer? I called. Didn’t you – didn’t –“

“I didn’t know if it was you. It’s been…”

You trailed off, it wasn’t necessary to acknowledge the obvious mess. Eris pressed you tighter against his chest. Just like those nights where nightmares consumed him, where his father’s reign of terror was too much, he hugged you so tight that your bones creaked under the pressure. You didn’t mind when it was the only thing holding him together.

It was silent for no longer than three seconds, the amount of time it took for the first and only tear to roll down his bruised cheek. If he let himself any more time, if he let his guard down, none of you would make it out of there alive.

Eris ignored the rough phantoms hands he could still feel on his body, the feeling of his father’s fingers tugging on his hair and crushing his throat. His touch was soft and careful as he pulled you away and inspected you with bright eyes. Only a gash on your cheek and a light limp on your left foot. Even if your dress was stained, he didn’t find any threatening injury.

He pushed the anger once more down his chest, until he turned it into resolution.

“How many?”

“Three of Beron’s personal guard. Rookie heard them before they came and I could hide” you motioned with your chin to the enormous dog that guarded the back door, on four and alert. “She took care of the first one, and the other two… it was them or me”

“You did well” Eris whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb under the bleeding wound. “Where are the bodies?”

Those deaths would haunt you for a while. His innocent, kind mate who had been the only one brave enough to risk sending him pain tonics after his father’s beatings. Who took care of his dogs when he couldn’t leave the bed, and stubbornly stayed by his side as he pushed you away.

Eris followed you silently to the first floor, to your bedroom. Where you had spent so many nights tangled together, now three bloodied bodies stood. He could identify which one had been finished by Rookie, their face unrecognizable. His father’s personal guard embroidery stood bright on their uniform, and it threatened to make him vomit.

He fished their bodies for weapons, ignoring the urge to kill them all over again slower a crueler. When he finished gathering what was worthy, he guided you out of the room, his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t look” he advised you, pressing you tighter when your body trembled. “We’ll be okay”

You had talked about that outcome for three years, and you had spent each borrowed minute like the last one. It wouldn’t be forever, you understood, so you had crafted a plan. An emergency plan that you needed to carry out.

Eris didn’t let you take anything and you didn’t stop to grab your belongings as he lit fire to the cabin behind you. Each step you took made your knees tremble, knowing that Beron had once more managed to drown any hope in your life for your relationship.

Heat scorched both your backs as you exited the cabin, now full ablaze. Eris’ mare was dutifully waiting at the entrance, with the dozens of neighbors that were gathered in a half-circle. They all scattered when Eris walked out, and didn’t get to see how your knees finally gave out. With just one arm, he managed to keep you standing against his chest and grab the reins.

His whole body tensed under the weight of your sobs, that racked your body in sadness. Twice now, he had seen your life crumble because of him, because of who you loved and loved you back. Until Beron was dead, until his body was cold and forgotten, there wouldn’t be a place in Prythian safe from his hands.

And no matter how much it pained, only one was safe enough to last until he killed his father. Or died trying to.

“Y/N” he whispered against your sobs, against your desperation. He held you firmly as you shook your head in denial without looking up from his chest. “It’s time, my love. We don’t have much time”

Maybe his father was stupid enough to think three men were enough to kill you, but they hadn’t returned and Eris had left – and, surely, his father himself would come to end with his son’s happiness and will to live.

Shadows gathered around his feet, but he didn’t look to the owner nor acknowledge the new presences in his court, in his forest. He had long ago granted them access for that day, had supplied them information for his part of the bargain.

Rhysand and his court had kept their promise.

“I don’t want to” you cried, so hard and fearful that his resolve shook. Yet your safety, your life, had always been his one priority.

“It’s for the best. Look at me, Y/N” his voice didn’t harden, he didn’t slip into the mask he wore around them for your sake. “Y/N”

His own voice was broken too, with despair and agony. He too dreamed for a world where he could hold you freely, where he didn’t need his worst’s enemies help to keep his mate alive. But those dreams were not for people like him. Still, he held onto that thread of hope that he would make it through tonight. That, tomorrow, he would comfort you like you deserve, endure your berating about his selflessness and kiss your tears away.

When you finally looked at him, he smiled, ignoring the surprise radiating from his unusual partners. Eris waited until your sobs subsided and you calmed enough to accept the next step.

In silence, he let his eyes tell you everything he didn’t allow himself to say. How grateful he was for your soft hand when no one else dared to help you, for your patience words against his lashings when you helped him. How sorry for each and every scar you carried from his court, his brothers and father, and for not being able to give you the life you deserved.

How much he loved you, witch every fiber of his being, until he was nothing more than embers and ashes, and beyond.

Eris pressed his lips wordlessly against your forehead, his hands holding your head in place. Your own circled his scarred wrists. With the glamour off, everyone could see the scars and marks on his body. You caressed the rough skin and held him tight, until he tore apart.

“I love you. And if I die tonight, know that your love was what has kept me alive for so long” he watched your glossy eyes, your shaky lips. “I only burn for you, my little fox”

“They’re here” Azriel talked, his voice breaking your daydreaming.

A soft spark of proudness lighted in his chest when Azriel tried to gently guide you back and you brushed him off with a stern look. Your eyes, kind and loving for him, were hard and unforgiving for the spymaster. Eris knew they would treat you well, would take care of you, and was sure you would give them hell for him.

You looked at him one last time, sad resolution in your eyes, and kissed the edge of his lips before stepping away. With your torn dress and blood over you, you looked like every inch of mate he adored and cherished.

Azriel finally gripped your wrist with an annoyed frown, and shadows swarmed both your beings just as the first group of soldiers rounded the edge of the town. They wouldn’t be the problem, but the High Lord who rode behind. Eris didn’t allow any of his fears or worries show when he kept eye contact as you disappeared with Azriel.

“Come back for me” you begged him one last time, cracking once more his already broken heart. “Please, my prince. Come back”

“I love you”

He let those words be the last thing you heard from him. Eris was powerful, but his father could crush him like a leave under a boot. Maybe Rhysand would keep to his promise and keep you safe – and still loose you against his father’s armies. Eris was just happy knowing he would die knowing what being loved by you felt. How your arms felt around his shoulders, your breath against his neck.

Eris would die happy because you had chosen him when even he hadn’t chosen himself.

The sound of horses and men screaming got more intense when you disappeared, and the prince prepared himself to face one last battle. His fists lighted up with bright fire, his body vibrating with energy.

He expected a wave of angry soldiers from his right.

Not a stony-face Rhysand looking at him with a raised brow.

“You do love” he proclaimed, his voice laced with curiosity and something else. “I was tempted to believe she was just another one of your tricks. One that assured you your climb to the throne”

“I have business to attended, in case you can’t tell” Eris grumbled, letting loose the rage and anger. “So if you would be so kind, please fuck off”

The first round of autumn males broke through the left with raised swords and angry scowls. Some of them had fought by Eris’ side in the last war, some of them had been by his father’s side as he beat him.

Neither of their faces was marked in Eris’ memory, as they all vanished away to a terrible darkness that swept them off. As if they had never existed at all. The prince’s fire died down a bit as he looked at the High Lord, who had taken his hands out of his pocket and whose violet eyes were shinning dangerously.

For all explanation, Rhysand shrugged and gave away no intention of leaving with Azriel and his court.

“I made a bet on you when we made that bargain. A bet on a new high lord that would change things with me” Rhysand stared at him and Eris didn’t break eye contact, too stunned to speak. “Wasn’t certain it was the right bet, but now I am. I hope we both get to withdraw the price”

Without another word, the world was consumed in a wave of darkness, Beron’s power emerging not so far away. Eris let himself become fire in the dark, brighter than ever, and with the memory of your last smile and the possible hope of a world with you, he launched himself into battle.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[eoieopda]

Jadie, are you taking Stray Kids Requests now?! Omg. OMG. Can we please have reader and Chan being super soft after a fight? I feel like he’s kind of intimidating (not on purpose) when he’s annoyed but then so sweet to make up for it 😍

the one where chan didn’t mean to yell

pairing: bang chan x reader type: drabble (angst, h/c) au: established relationship wc: 612 cw: argument (obviously) implied but not depicted; no gendered language used for reader. a/n: aaaah my first foray into skz writing 🤪 sorry to this man for being introduced mid-fight lmao.

Fuck.

Bang Chan knew it the second he raised his voice that he shouldn’t have. He never did — ever — and the reason for that was buried in the bewildered look in your eyes. Even more jarring than his sudden outburst was the speed at which your surprise began to drown in half-formed tears.

Your rapid blinking had barely kept the tide at bay.

Chan’s friends had told him before that he often looked angrier than he felt. Knowing this, he did his best to manage the optics; to keep you from interpreting his frustration as something more intense. He’d been successful at it for years — until he wasn’t.

There may have, at one point, been a reason for his becoming upset — but he’d already forgotten what that was. Whatever it might have been, it sure as shit wasn’t worth the way you’d looked at him.

Just as soon as he started, he’d cut himself off mid-sentence and reached out for you like he always did. This time, you didn’t reach back. Instead, you’d recoiled like his arm was a snake primed to bite. When you promptly turned and walked away, you’d left him standing alone with his outstretched hand still in the air.

Fuck.

Chan had spent the subsequent twenty minutes pacing with the excess of his sweatshirt sleeves balled up in his fists.

His gut instinct had been to follow you out of his office, to not let you walk away angry — he fought it. You were more than entitled to space after being spoken to in that tone. So, that’s what he gave you — until he couldn’t stop himself from trying to make it right.

When Chan entered the bedroom, you were sitting cross-legged on your side of the bed with your back to the door. You didn’t acknowledge his presence when he crossed over to you, or when he slipped into the space behind you on the mattress. Radio silence, save for your barely-audible sniffling.

Shit.

“Baby,” Chan called out to you softly.

No response.

Shit.

He scooted closer, slowly, as if he’d spook you otherwise. You didn’t move away — a good sign — so he reached out and let his thumb graze gently over the exposed skin of your forearm. There was the tiniest shift in your posture; a microscopic slump of your shoulders. An ounce of tension dissipated.

Progress.

Chan repeated himself, “Baby?”

Then he punctuated his plea by placing a soft, experimental kiss on your shoulder. You sniffled, relaxed the tiniest bit more.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to shout at you, but I did and you didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a quiet, shaky exhale as if you were about to speak, but you said nothing. You did, however, accept his arms as they wrapped around you. Even better, you leaned back into his chest as he guided you into the space between his legs.

Chan kissed the top of your head and hoped you felt how much he loved you. In the event that you didn’t, he said as much, holding you even tighter: “You are my favorite part of every day. I’m sorry that I’ve done such a shit job of expressing that. I love you, completely.”

You remained quiet for a few moments. In that time, your closeness was enough for him; you didn’t owe him one goddamn thing. But you breathed in deep enough for him to feel it too, and then you said it:

“I love you completely, too… dingus.”

Stunned silence immediately gave way to breathless laughter. And when his mirth got too heavy to shoulder, you joined him in crashing sideways and smiling into the pillows.

[hotpinkstars]

-> cryo characters when they find you crying

synopsis -> most of the cryo characters when they find you crying. self explanatory once again.

characters -> shenhe, wriothesley, eula, ganyu, rosaria, kaeya, charlotte, freminet, layla

warnings -> sad reader, implied female reader on kaeya and eulas (eulas can be looked at as a guy with long hair tho) some imply why reader was crying, some you make up your own scenario, mostly just comfort and worried characters

w/c -> 2.9k

-> shenhe

shenhe understood that sometimes you’ll have your moments, and you’ll need to cry, vent, or just be in her presence, but normally you’d let her know. thats why it was so alarming when she walked into the walls of your safe abode to hear sobs echo through the rooms.

she walked into your shared bedroom to see you curled up on your respective side, body visibly shaking with every cry you let out. she silently sat on her side of the bed and reluctantly puts her hand to the small of your back, letting you know of her presence. you roll over pretty fast, landing your head on her thigh.

“shenhe..” you sniffled, crying into her leg. she jumped a little due to the sudden contact, ending with now your arms around her waist. she was stiff for a while before leaning back against the birch headboard, letting you continue to cry. she silently let you know that it’s okay to shed your tears, and that you can take as much time as you need. 

once you settled down, she immediately asked you what happened. you explained why you were so frantic, and if it had someone involved, she was certainly about to go create a bloodbath. if it was just some little thing, maybe an issue you struggle with or just a bad day, she’ll try to talk through it with you (and i emphasize try) and try to get on the same page as you. 

-> wriothesley

the one thing he did not expect to find when he walked back into the comfort of your cozy house was you on the living room floor, bawling your eyes out.

it was incredibly alarming. he couldn’t even imagine what could have someone this worked up. he didn’t even bother taking his boots off (which he knows he’ll get scolded for later on) and sped over to where you were, falling to the floor next to you. 

“sweetheart, what happened??” he brings you into an embrace, in which you wrap your arms tightly around his large frame. he could feel you shake your head, silently understanding that you’d rather not explain yourself right now.

he picks you up and sets you on the couch, and then gets back on the floor. his knees pop, and a few seconds later you feel his head rest on your abdomen. you bring your hands up to your face and continue to cry for a few minutes longer before settling down, reducing your cries to hiccups. you look down at your husband, who looked up at you, giving you a small smile. 

“are you alright?” he asks. he knows its a dumb question- obviously you're not. but he wants to see if you’ll say that. 

you hesitate for a second before shaking your head. you could see hurt flash through his eyes, and then you motion with your hands for him to come closer to you so you could hug him. all you wanted right now was his strong embrace. 

“you probably want to know why i was on the floor, out of all places, no?” you whisper, brushing his hair back with your fingers. 

“i’d like to know why you were crying as hard as you were. it sounded like you were dying,” he sighed, resting his head on your collarbone. “and yes, also why you were on the floor.” 

as you explained what happened and why you were crying so hard, he sighed once more before bringing you back down to the floor with him, rocking you side to side and hugging you tight as if you would turn to dust if he let go. you knew you were safe with him by your side, and you know that he feel sympathy towards your situation. next time, he’d just rather you come to him right away during these outbursts. (and yes, you did scold him for the shoes on the carpet. you also made him clean up the small mess he made). 

-> eula

you knew eula already had a lot on her plate, hence why you didn’t bother her with such a little matter, this one being tears. 

you thought she’d judge you, and that she’d tell you to get up on your feet and that its nothing but a nuisance (considering those are the words she says to herself whenever she sheds a tear or two. it breaks your heart every time, considering she thinks so lowly of herself in her weakest moments). 

but when she came into your office to ask you of ambers whereabouts, her face immediately softened as she walked over to your side of the desk, and she gently rested a palm on your back. your head was down, only showing her your scalp and your long, flowy hair. her gesture made your head shoot up, looking around the room and then back at who was currently rubbing your back. thats when you saw eula.

she wore a small, sympathetic grin as she proceeded to massage your neck. you look away, ashamed.

“whats wrong, dear?” she asked with some urgency in her voice, but for the most part it was soft and harmless. “you can talk to me.”

you told her the issue, and she held your hand the whole time. you could see her face make different expressions every once and a while, usually when your explanation took a turn. but she listened, and she was there. she then bent down to give you a small hug, coming around to the other side of your desk and sitting in one of the chairs. she grabbed one of your hands, kissing it softly. 

“i’m sorry i didn’t just try to come find you, i..” you trailed off, and she nodded, telling you to keep going. “i just thought… for a second… that you’d tell me to tough it out, like you tell yourself all the time.” 

she gave you a shocked expression, immediately composing herself and clearing her throat. 

“y/n, i’d never tell you such a thing. thats only what i say to myself because…” she didn’t necessarily have an answer, but she ignored that. “anyways. i’d never put you down for having human emotions. honestly, i’d be incredibly surprised if you didn’t have to cry every so often.”

“but know, i’ll always be here to dry your tears, y/n.”

-> ganyu 

you never knew ganyu was such a light sleeper, being as tired as she can be sometimes.

it was midnight, and you two were sleeping in your shared bed. she had her leg covering your knees, and one arm draped over your midsection, making it easier to free yourself of her grasp. 

everything felt suffocating. the darkness only made it worse, leading you to stumble into the bathroom and turn on all the lights. you loved ganyu, but you couldn’t lay there with her anymore tonight. you didn’t know why.

but you didn’t think your girlfriend would wake up to your side of the bed slowly getting colder and colder. 

as she got out of bed, she walked into the hallway, finding the bathroom light on and light sobs coming from inside. she knocks before walking in, a gasp leaving your mouth as you lock eyes with the qilin for a split second. you look down in embarrassment.

“are you okay? what happened?” she said, her voice slightly raspy, trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. you could tell she was barely able to comprehend what was happening.

when you explain why you were crying, she sighs, opening her arms wide and leaning against the sink cabinets. you crawl into her lap, hugging her back. she makes sure you’re aware that she cares, and as sleepy as she is, she only wants to comfort you, and that she will make sure that nothing hurts you anymore tonight. she already feels bad enough that you had to come into the bathroom to cry, instead of simply just doing it in bed. because she wouldn’t mind it. she’d do the same things she's doing now. 

and she makes sure she clarifies that as soon as you two sit down for breakfast in the morning. 

-> rosaria

it was around nine at night, and you knew rosaria wouldn’t be home until two in the morning. which is why you chose now out of all times to have a breakdown. 

but you didn’t catch that over breakfast earlier that day, she told you she’d be home earlier so she could get a better nights rest and be able to spend a bit more time with you. so, just as you started to really cry, she walked in the door.

as soon as you heard the key hit the knob, you tried to frantically wipe your face and calm your breathing. but you know that wouldn’t be possible, because she was already through the door and looking at you like you were crazy. 

but that look faded when she realized you were seriously crying, bent over the countertop of your kitchen with your head in your hands. she didn’t know whether or not to approach you, so she sat at the barstools on the other side of the counter. you look up, laughing a little.

“i’m sorry, rosa,” you sniffled before motioning for her to hand you the tissues. she tosses them to you and then looks at you once more. 

“sorry for what?” 

“for greeting you this way. i forgot that you were coming home early today,” you look up, trying to avoid her gaze. 

“you don’t have to apologize. at least we’re together, and you’re not crying alone,” she grabs your arm and rubs it up and down. “i wouldn’t want you to be alone when you’re suffering. you know i’ll always make time for you, right?”

you nod.

“now, tell me, what happened? why were you crying?” her motions stopped, and she put her hands nicely across her lap. 

when you told her, she sighed, looking down the hallway to her left. she was debating on murdering someone, that someone being the person who hurt you, but she decided against it. she came to the other side of the counter and attempted to give you a comforting back hug. you knew she disliked physical affection, but this was a moment where it was all she could give, so give it she did. she was genuinely a great lover, despite her past and her personality.

-> kaeya

you were out at the market while your husband was at the tavern. it was a bit later at night, but you needed to cook dinner and you didn’t have the right ingredients for your dish of choice.

you overheard the cashier and the person they were checking out talking about kaeya. the customer was asking if he was in a relationship, and the cashier said no. you assumed that they simply didn’t know, but the tears came when the customer started to go on about how much they were hoping that would be the answer, and nobody is exceptionally good enough for him around here.

you set your basket down on an open shelf and rush out of the grocery store. as you were walking home, you were trying very hard to hold the tears in, but they came spilling out. 

halfway home, just as your eyes were watering over, you spot kaeya walking the same route. he was a bit ahead of you, so you decided to stay as silent as possible and keep your distance so he didn’t have to see you cry, and wouldn’t have to worry too hard about you. 

unfortunately for you, he knows the sounds of your footsteps, and turns around to find you walking at a slow pace with mascara running down your cheeks. 

“hey hey hey, whats the matter?” he looks concerned, pacing towards you. you didn’t bother turning away.

“lets just head home,” you said, sniffling and hiccuping between your speech. “i don’t want to attract any more attention to myself than i already have.”

he nodded, understanding before rushing the both of you home. 

when you both got into your home, he immediately drew you into a hug, allowing you to sob into his shoulder. he rubbed your arms and back as you proceeded to calm down.

you explained what happened and what was said, and you swore you saw hurt and anger flash through his eyes. he sighs, making sure you knew how much you meant to him, and how much your worth mattered. 

at the end of the day, he was your husband, and nobody (not even those stupid jealous ass fans) can take him from you.

-> charlotte

your usually bubbly girlfriend was not so bubbly and happy when she stepped in your shared home to hear light sobs coming from the bedroom.

she opened the door to see you curled up in a ball, crying into her pillow. 

“whats going on? are you okay, y/n?” she rushes up to you, internally panicking and trying to calm herself down as she was calming you down. it took everything she had to not cry with you- she hates seeing her loved ones in pain. she spooned you for a while as you calmed down, stroking her fingers through your hair in the meantime. she didn’t want to scare you away or be too intrusive, so she let you speak about your issue if you wanted, and if you didn’t, then she wouldn’t push it.

but if you were to, she’d listen very well. she’d sit there, criss cross, and be very attentive. if you needed something, she’d go fetch it. if you simply wanted her to hug you, she would! but if you wanted her to try to talk to the person, she would, (and maybe, just maybe, with your permission, put this as an issue worthy of the steambird) and at this point she’d do anything for you. 

and in the end, she’d make your favorite food and… selfie time!!!! mirror selfies, the sticking-your-tongue-out-and-making-a-peace-sign, or those cheesy couples photos of a full makeout session. but as long as it makes you laugh, she’s completely on-board!

-> freminet

you were simply just cuddling with your boyfriend when you started to cry, simply breaking down in his arms. he was a little clueless at first, bringing your chin up to him to look at your face. you looked like you had a lot of pain behind your laughter, laughing about how you don’t know why you just started crying, and that it was dumb of you to even do that in the first place. that you didn’t mean to burden him or do anything of that sort.

he’s quick to silence you, making sure you know that you can cry in front of him. he doesn’t want you to reserve your emotions, and certainly doesn’t want you to suffer in silence. 

but the issue is that he’s bad at verbalizing those feelings. he doesn’t want you to feel alone, but he doesn’t know how to form that statement into words. no matter how many times he’ll rehearse it in his head, no matter how many times he’ll get lynettes (and sometimes lyneys, depending on how bad the situation is) help on how to communicate with you, and make sure you know that you have his support constantly.

“whats wrong, if it’s not too much to ask?” he says slowly, picking his words carefully. he’s never really had to experience a breakdown from you, but there's always a first for everything.

you tell him, and he feels sympathy. he wishes he could make everything in that moment go away, if thats what’ll make you feel content for even just a few moments. he wishes he could take on your burdens too, and you know he feels that way. but you won't let him, because he has too much going on himself. so, all he can do for now is sit in silence and hold you. it’ll do for now, he thinks.

-> layla

layla was fast asleep on your lap when all of the sudden, tears just started running down your cheeks. you didn’t know why, they just started. you remembered something you didn’t want to think about, something rather harsh. layla woke up when she felt those exact tears plop onto her face, only to be met with the sight of your swollen eyes.

“whats wrong??” she says in a worried, dreary tone. you could tell she was beyond exhausted, slowly bringing a hand to your cheek while yawning. “you don’t have to say… just wondering…”

if you say, she’ll listen as best as she can. you and her both know that she’s tired a lot, so her ability to focus on one thing without drifting into peace for a few hours is near nonexistent. but to you, she changes that, and makes sure to be as alert as she possibly could be. she’ll try to help you get through it with the best of her ability, understanding that the things going on in your mind right now are not good and you just need your lover to be there for you, especially at such a vulnerable time.

so, be there she is. she’ll cuddle you if you want her to. you know she might fall asleep, but at least she’s trying to make an effort to help you feel better.

[shanniethewr]

in loving arms

summary: men are cruel as they disgustingly label women lower than them. as unfortunate as it may seem, you fortunately have your dearest who proves that he's not as low as the vile creatures.

warnings: boys being disgusting, harassment, past toxic relationships, sexual harassment, name-calling (slut, whore), swearing, assault, mentions of violence, lowkey ooc

characters: albedo, cyno, kazuha, lyney, and tighnari gn!reader but implied having feminine items such as a purse lowercase intended + not proofread

ALBEDO

traversing through mondstadt was another mundane routine for you, helping the citizens with their troubles and whatnot. fortunately, things had been far more peaceful ever since the traveler had came and gave leeway for peace in the city of freedom.

but that didn't mean horrid things would suddenly stop overnight. oh no, definitely not. because the least you expected was to find yourself in a vacant room in the favonious headquarters, surrounded by what people call the knights.

"heh. you know you shouldn't be walking around with those skimpy clothes you got, looking like a slut." you cringed, feeling a shiver down your spine as you stepped backward from the nearing hand.

"you're absolutely disgusting. how the hell have you become a knight with that filthy attitude? archons, i feel truly disappointed for your parents." you spat with venom in your tone, the consequence for that was angering the knight.

"a feisty one, hah?" he grinned with a sickening feeling, and his hands soon laid on your body, groping in places it shouldn't be. "stop it!" you yelled, thrashing around, attempting to pull the man away. you were no fighter, and that was obvious.

you felt nauseous, you couldn't even comprehend the words that were being said. you just wanted to go see albedo, why must the world play and pull on the strings of your life?

"to think such behavior was conducted in the headquarters filled with people who's desires are to protect the people, not to harass them... truly disappointing." a familiar voice, the speech was relaxed, if not, unfazed. however, there was a tone of hostility, dripping with poison.

albedo, whose eyes are glimmering with disgust and anger, a contrast to his gentle and calm expression. "c-chief alchemist!" you took the opportunity to slip away, quick to get to albedo's side and taking his hand in yours, an attempt of comforting yourself and to soothe the chalk prince's anger.

"i'm sorry my dear, have i not been caught up with affairs, this wouldn't have happened." albedo said, eyes softening when meeting with yours, lips on your forehead as you relished in his calming presence. "you can go wait outside, i'll just deal with some unnecessary variables."

ushered to exit the room, you saw nothing, but you sure did hear the sound of a fist meeting with a face along with the cries of the knight begging for forgiveness.

CYNO

being a scholar in the akademiya and the rumored beloved of the general mahamatra was not a peaceful matter as you thought of it before. fortunately, it had its perks, the downside was that some people just forget about it.

"c'mon baby, let's just forget the past and move on, 'kay?" the man, boy, you used to call your lover has been invading your personal privacy and has been continuously annoying you about it.

'how the hell did he even find me...' you thought, gritting your fists as you stood up from your seat, being agitated for far too long. "hey! don't ignore me babe!"

exiting lambad's tavern, the night sky of sumeru looks down upon your figure along with the radiant stars. the scenery would be perfect for a romantic and dreamy moment, but unfortunately, an irritating being is stuck to you like a leech, having no intention of letting go.

"can you fucking stop!?" you yelled after the constant annoyance of the presence following you for archons knows how long, stunning your ex, standing in shock at your sudden outburst. "there's no future for the two of us! if you wanted one, you should've treated me like the way you want to be treated! i will never go back to the likes of you again."

"is that how you treat me? after i took care and loved you for so long!?" that was all you needed to snap, as the loud sound of a slap was heard echoing in the quiet, empty streets of sumeru.

"took care of me!? what the hell are you talking about you bastard!? i was the one who did all of your unfinished works and projects, i was the one making money!! you, you ungrateful bastard always took the savings i had just to buy some useless pair of jewelry only to find out you were giving it to some other girl!"

tears brimmed your eyes as you felt your throat becoming hoarse after every second of yelling at the awful man in front of you. archons, you just wanted to have a peaceful drink at a tavern, not to meet the person you hated the most.

because damn, he was acting like a fucking weed.

"hah!? you're really starting to become more disobedient now, talking back to me." you yelped in pain as he pulled on your hair, kneeing your stomach as you coughed in pain.

"where's your lover now, huh? don't tell me all of those rumors were fake." he chuckled evilly as you sob from the pain.

and everything went like a blur, you heard your ex howling in pain along with the sounds of bones being broken. not soon after, you were cradled in strong arms against a sturdy chest, the very action soothed your pain and worries.

"you weren't home my love, don't worry, i'm here now, i won't let anything bother you from now on." cyno's stern yet gentle voice brought you to reality as you melted in his embrace.

cyno's amber eyes soon turned into the eyes of a predator eyeing its prey, a frown on his lips, one of anger. "and as for you. i recommend you not to bother them anymore, less you want to be enclosed behind cold bars, feel free to take up the offer anytime."

your ex panicked, taking off in fear. your lover huffed, soon carrying you in his sturdy arms. "sorry cyno, for.. making you worry." you quietly stated against his chest as he remained quiet for a few moments before speaking.

"please, don't. it's my duty to make sure you're safe and loved, so no matter what, i trust that you will rely on me in times of need."

KAZUHA

you leisurely walked into the streets of inazuma, enjoying the taste of freedom after the sakoku decree was abolished, there was a new upbeat in the city and the people were thriving.

that was only a few minutes ago, until you found yourself in a quiet alleyway with a weird man cornering you. "you shouldn't have gone walking around like that, you filthy whore, that desperate for attention?"

there wasn't anything special about your clothes, a typical inazuman outfit with a few alterations thanks to your dear friend, ayaka, who told the seamstress to add a few decorations, claiming it would brighten your beauty more.

"you creep. just because the sakoku decree was abolished, that doesn't mean you can just waltz in and start sexualizing our cultural outfit! have you not heard of respect!?" you countered, glaring at the man as your grip on your purse tightened, you should've asked kazuha for some martial lessons at the very least.

"but i can do whatever the hell i want. it's your fault for wearing those clothes." his hand was on your shoulder, attempting to pull down the sleeves as you thrashed your arms around.

"NO! STOP IT!" you hated this, you wanted to run, scream. but how could you do that when you're pinned against the wall as the man was grinning evilly? you prayed for the archons to at least save you from this moment.

and fortunately enough, your prayers were answered.

"attempting to sexually assault on an unwilling individual, much less my beloved, you've inclined me to do worse than having you rot behind the bars of inazuma." a voice so gentle yet cold and stern, kazuha spoke, hands gripped into a fist, "who the hell are you!?"

"just a wanderer passing by. now, if you'd allow me..." the samurai was quick to act on his feet, punching the stranger, causing him to falter and fall to his knees. kazuha immediately embraced you in his loving arms, lightly combing his fingers through your locks in hopes of soothing your shaking figure as he hid your partially clothed body from anyone's eyes.

"i'm sorry for taking so long, my dove. from now on, i swear on my name to never let you experience such things again. i will be your sword and i will protect you until death does us part."

LYNEY

the quiet atmosphere of the backstage was what you needed after a tiring night of endless cheering for your lover's and his sister's performance. undoubtedly, their performance was always pristine and beautiful, like always.

most of the staff had already packed away and home they went, for sleep had fallen among most of the people in fontaine. you were simply waiting for lyney as promised, claiming he had to go finish a quick task, leaving you alone in the empty opera.

the least you expected was to find yourself on the floor with a man you feared, on top of you with a terrifying grin on his lips. he has your hands pinned above your head as you weakly kick your legs around, only for it to be held down with his legs.

"i never expected you to wait like an obedient puppy for a man other than me! i think you deserve to be punished, i mean, come on, cheating already when we're just taking a break?"

you gritted your teeth in agitation, "the hell do you mean break? we broke up years ago! who the hell said we're still together?" you spat, glaring hard against the man on top of you.

"is that so? then i have no choice but to force you, it's your fault for doing this to me. if only you could've acted like you would with that filthy magician." a blade, seemingly out of nowhere was in his possession, lightly pressing it against your cheek as your breath hitched.

"knock it off!" you yelled, thrashing your limbs around as the man let out a disgusting laugh, enjoying the suffering he was putting you through.

"trespassing in the backstage is not something for audiences like you, especially when you dare to attack mon trésor, is something that i will not let go of lightly regardless of the circumstances." lyney said, his charming smile was seen yet his aura was the contrast of the magician lyney. he is upset, in the sense of madness.

"hah! what can you even do? throw cards at me?" the man chortled, you however, were subtly trying to escape from his grasp which lyney noticed. with a snap of his fingers, you found yourself in the arms of the one you dearly loved. "what!?"

"oh, i'll do something far worse than that. you see, i've been wanting to test out a new magic trick, one where they saw and tear through your limbs. your actions today demonstrated that you're the perfect candidate for such a terrific trick!" lyney's voice was coated in venom, his eyes glared with the intention to do something to the man.

you heard only bits and parts, as his hands were over your eyes and ears, embracing you closer to him as a gesture that you were safe with him. that was a pure and pristine fact, as the magician lyney would filter his words about you with nothing but truths.

"let the show begin! ah, but before that, mon trésor, please wait outside for a while. don't worry, i promise not to make you wait for too long, and i will make sure i will protect you as it is my duty as your lover to do so."

TIGHNARI

a visit to gandharva ville was a normal weekly routine for you, as you had a busy job, and so did your partner, tighnari. but that didn't stop the two of you to express your love to one another each weekly visit.

you were patiently waiting for him at an empty hut, quietly indulging in the music of nature as you sipped on your favorite drink that collei knew all too well, having it prepared before your arrival.

"oh hey! look who it is, it's been a while, old friend." one of your former scholars from the akademiya said, taking a seat in front of you as you smiled, "you as well. how are you fairing lately?"

"same old, same old. how about you? i heard you've gotten a partner recently." you nodded in response, "yup! he's actually—" "he must be lucky, huh?"

you went silent, a shiver crawling down your spine, and you knew something wasn't right. "what do you mean?" "well, you know, you've always been a heavy sleeper. i could've done anything to you and you wouldn't even wake up or even know about it."

"but it's not surprising if he'd already done that to you. i mean, even arjurn and daksh wanted to do you but they never got a chance. gotta give them one in the future, right?" he laughed as if he was just talking about the weather while you were shocked, disgusted even.

"please leave," you stated, glaring hard at the person you once thought as a friend in front of you, only for him to wolf whistle in return. "feisty huh?"

his hand wandered under the table and found itself on your thighs, causing you to flinch and stand up abruptly. "if you're here just to make disgusting comments about me and my partner, leave! you are not needed here."

"come on sweetheart, that can't do. besides, he doesn't need to know what'll happen between us." standing up, you found yourself defensively taking a step back from the awful creature in front of you.

"stop it. leave! i don't need you or your disgusting presence in this room, right now! if you won't leave, then i have no choice to report you to the chief officer of the forest rangers."

"then, let's just make this quick, alright? just—"

"they said to leave. you have made a trespassed against a very dangerous territory sir, with that filthy behavior, you are officially never welcomed in gandharva ville again." tighnari spoke from behind, his galre hard as his voice remained cold and ruthlessly.

making a beeline towards tighnari, you found yourself in his embrace along with his sweet gesture of a forehead kiss. "you dare to force my partner into something they were unwilling to do, have i seen them being harassed and forced into the act, i will not act as merciful as i did today."

"so please. leave, before i make your consequence harsher than it is. if you dare to go near to my lotus again, i am not afraid to make a hole in that head of yours."

— © wr.shannie created on 8.26.23 finished on 8.27.23

do NOT copy or plagiarize my work!!

[lilac-5ky]

Oh then! Can I request a scenario where Toji eavesdrops on a convo between Reader and Gojo (or whoever) where Reader confesses to having a crush on Toji?

Thank you so much!

Confessions of a Confection Thief (Toji x Teacher!Fem!Reader)

Plot: On a warm summer day, you confess your love for the man once known as the Sorcerer Killer to the man who, twelve years ago, spared his life. What you don't count on is the man in question listening in, nor the consequences of a mere lunch invitation.

Tags: au in which Gojo heals Toji's ass with reverse jujutsu and makes him his bitch, reader is megumi's teacher, parent/teacher relationship, age gap (reader early 30s, toji early 40s), character development!toji, soft!toji, confession, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), facial, doggy style, petnames (teach', sweetheart, baby, doll), MDNI (obviously)

A/N: You can tell I got inspired since this took me 9k words to develop that feature not only the confession, but the date and the "happy ever after" ehe. Hopefully this was worth the wait!

“Damn machine!” You grunt as you kick at the vending machine’s side, lamenting over the 1,000 yen bill you were just robbed of.

“Let me give it a try.” The man beside you suggests and you clear the stage for him to work his magic. His right hand lifts from his pocket, open fingers coaxing an entire bundle of sodas out without even making contact. What a show-off.

He gathers the cans off the ground and hands you the one that is your favorite, making you wait while he places the rest on top of the vendor for a lucky student to find.

“Isn’t that considered damaging school property?” You raise a brow, yanking the ring close to the tab with a pop.

“Is it?” He chuckles, bringing his refreshment to his lips. “It was already damaged when we got here. Ijichi’s gonna get an earful later.”

“I don’t think that falls under Ijichi’s responsibilities, Satoru. Cut him some slack already.”

“No harm in harassing your cute underclassmen from time to time, Y/N.” He smiles. “You should try it too.”

Right, you mutter under your breath, already regretting your decision to spill your heart’s contents on someone with such little regard for others. Shoko would’ve been a better choice. Utahime, too. You could wait until the weekend, get on the first bullet train to Kyoto, and have a girls’ night out like you used to before life and work got in the way. They’d surely talk you out of the horrible mistake you’re about to commit. Maybe that’s why you chose Satoru. He’s the only one who’d give you the final push down the cliff, and you don’t mind the fall.

“So what is it that you wanted to talk about?” He brings you back to the parching reality of Jujutsu Tech’s grounds, with the sun glinting across every metallic surface and body of water in the perimeter. The heatwave has only begun, and thankfully, the outburst of curses has finally simmered down, or else you’ve no idea how you’d survive abandoned building-hopping with those three rascals.

You take a sip from your soda, the taste of honeydew melon cooling your throat like the sweetest form of redemption. You struggle not to gulp it all down in one go, eyeing the remainder of drinks that have vanished in the horizon—or rather, you have, your steps leading you toward a path of tori gates that itself leads to the school’s Inari shrine. This should be safe. No one comes around these places.

“I have a confession to make.”

Satoru stops in his tracks, awaiting a follow-up that doesn’t come. His sunglasses come off, and a knowing smile slowly creeps up his lips. “I know.”

“Y-You do?” You blink in surprise. What does he know? How does he know? Since when does he know? “Satoru—”

“You’re the one who ate the last Manzu.”

And he couldn’t be any more off the mark.

You sigh. “That’s not it.”

“It’s not? Huh.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his palm after chugging his strawberry-flavored soda. “Guess I’ll have to ask Ijichi about that too.”

“Please don’t torment him for useless things.” You cast your gaze to your feet, kicking a pebble as you speak. “What I want to confess is… my feelings.”

The cicadas come to a stop, leaving space for your words to take root. You are hesitant to move forward, cautiously treading on the shells of emotions you recently began to accept. Almost there, you encourage yourself as Satoru invades your personal space, cornering you against the red gate’s pillar.

“Finally decided to profess your love for me?”

You shove his smug face away and roll your eyes at the notion. “Dream on, Shit-toru.”

He takes a step back, acting as if you just delivered a fatal blow to his heart. You chuckle at his childish antics while shaking your head in disapproval. To think the future of the entire Jujutsu world rests on the shoulders of a conceited guy who makes everything about him.

“Then who’s the lucky guy?”

Your anxiety resumes before it has the chance to fully dissipate. You close your eyes and lean back against the pillar, the familiar name on your tongue feeling foreign. “It’s… Fushiguro.”

“Fushiguro?” You nod. You understand it’s a lot to take in and give him a moment to process it, yet the longer he takes to answer, the more tempted you are to say this was a joke and call things off. “Don’t you think there’s a bit of an age gap?”

“I mean… I suppose there is.” You sound defeated. If even Satoru saw this as an issue, then there’s no reason he wouldn’t. “You think it’s that bad?”

“Bad?” His lips twitch. “The heart wants what it wants, Y/N. Give it a few years, and the difference won’t matter.”

“You think I have a chance?”

“Oh, definitely! I saw Yuji move some of his American-star posters into his room last week, and he didn’t throw any away. Jennifer Lawrence ‘s your age, right?”

Your memory is put to the test as you go through various Jennifers. Is she the one from Friends or the one married to Ben Affleck?

“I think she’s older by a few years.”

“Older?” He snorts. “Well, if it makes you feel younger, then who am I to argue?”

You decide to let his comment slide for the sake of picking on the dissonance in his words. “But what does a Hollywood actress have to do with this? And Itadori—what are you talking about?”

“Y/N, you should get to know him a bit better before confessing, don’t you think?” Satoru says, as he finds your beloved pebble and tosses it in your direction. You catch it with your heel. “The kind of woman he likes; his best friend; the ages of top-paid actors. These things shape up a guy’s adolescence. They’re as crucial.”

By the time he finishes talking, all the puzzle pieces fall into place, and you have to mentally control every joint in your body to prevent it from lashing at him with fury second only to the Curse King’s. Even by Satoru’s dubious standards, this is plain outrageous.

“Are you outta your mind?” You yell, pushing your hair off your sweaty forehead with both palms. “How could you—why would you—what do you take me for?” You fail to put your thoughts in order until you suck in a deep breath. “I would never crush on any of my students, or any other minor, for that matter!” You declare.

Thin white eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion. “But you said—”

“Fushiguro! The man I’m in love with is Fushiguro Toji!”

And not a single soul is left on campus who hasn’t heard your confession, no matter how far and wide or close you think they are scattered.

Toji’s never set foot on these damned grounds without cursing to himself as if the paths his shoes traverse are paved with nothing but shit. Even after all these years, something about marching through the front door just doesn’t feel right. It’s not hatred, that’s for sure. He’s spent more than two-thirds of his life cultivating his loathing for sorcerers to the point where he can tell it apart by taste alone.

No, what’s tainting his palate right now and will continue doing so in the days to come is more akin to chagrin than resentment. It’s failure. A failure that’s branded onto the bare skin of his torso and that he can’t pawn off for as long as he stands, because if a fate worse than death exists, then that’s surviving on a snotty brat’s pity.

Wiping some of his sweat and plenty of his regrets against his pants, Toji remembers his reason for being here has nothing to do with Six-Eyes or his past shortcomings, as he’s here to share the news of his divorce papers finalization with the only person he’s keen on letting know: you.

A decade has passed since he last heard from his wife—his ex-wife who had no qualms about leaving everything behind (her daughter included) and ran back to her parents, never to be seen or heard from again until a hotshot big firm lawyer showed up at his doorstep with a bunch of papers and a platinum-coated Montblanc in hand.

And with that, another overdue chapter was closed, the rest of the pages flipping through the wind. By the end of summer, the goalkeeper in his relationship with his son will be heading off to college, and with Tsumiki gone, Megumi decided he’d grown old enough to slam the door on his face and choose that faux albino sorcerer over his own blood.

It was that very rebellion that roused Toji to reevaluate his lifestyle. He stopped counting the years after the candle with the number 4 became prominent in each birthday cake, but that didn’t stop time from moving forward. He was aging. And while one-night stands do a decent enough job to distract him from searching his scalp for graying hair, the nights he catches himself wishing his bed could stay warm the morning after add up.

None of the silly little girls he fools around with are capable of that, not the way you are. Since that first PT meeting he begrudgingly attended two months ago, a rusty cog in his heart began turning again.

You don’t match any of his previous criteria. You don’t come from a wealthy family and aren’t an airhead either. You live in the dorms because you can’t afford rent in the city, and you are smart enough to have graduated from a big university. You are one of them, but you’re also proof that not all beauty was lost with her.

Toji doesn’t want to screw this up. Just once, he wants to do things right. He waited until he was a free man in the eyes of the law, wore his good jeans on a day when wearing jeans should be considered a criminal offense, and kept enough cash to afford however many side dishes you ordered—assuming you accepted his lunch invitation in the first place.

The jittery, four-eyed guy he ran into on his way to your class pointed him in the direction of the school’s shrine. After a while of wandering around, Toji spots two sets of imprints in the soil, the smaller ones belonging to your heels and the larger ones undoubtedly being that brat’s. Luck isn’t on his side today. His stride overlaps with Gojo’s as he childishly covers the younger man’s tracks, leaving yours intact, and eventually, the sound of clamor confirms his lead.

He strays off the pebbled path and mingles with the shadows of the dense forest, scoffing as Gojo’s shit-eating grin becomes apparent. That beanpole’s standing way too close to you. Toji almost intervenes when you finally push him. A kick to the nuts would do him better, but that’s enough for a tiny smile to rise on his scar. That’s my girl.

There’s no reason to stay hidden anymore. After all, that brat is already aware of his presence. He takes a few steps forward, turning into a pillar of salt at your sudden outburst.

“The man I’m in love with is Fushiguro Toji!”

His hand nearly reaches inside his back pocket to double-check the name on his ID. Looks like some of his luck returned to him. Asking you out just got a whole lot easier.

“Fushiguro Toji?” Gojo twists a finger in his ear. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Toji hisses, his fist itching to knock some teeth off his face. That ought to jog his memory, but he holds back, realizing that’s all part of Six-Eyes’ plan. To egg him on into a brawl he can’t win.

“He wiped the floor with your face only a few years back, Satoru.” You sound as irritated as he is. “How could you possibly forget?”

The man folds his arms over his chest, sparing a glare in Toji’s direction as he reclines against the tori gate. “Was it at the arcades? Man, no need to rub it in.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. You sigh, hogging the unoccupied pillar with no intention to play his game.

“What about Megumi’s old man won you over?” Gojo gives in. “His kart skills?”

“So you do remember, after all.” You murmur in a low voice. “I don’t know. He’s just… nice.”

“Nice?” Gojo asks with utter disgust painted on his face.

Nice?

You nod, fumbling with the hem of your navy-blue dress. “Hey, Satoru. You know what makes for a good parent?” You don’t let either of them consider their answers. “It’s effort. Not success, but effort. Mister Fushiguro hasn’t missed any of his son’s PT meetings, even when the two of them are clearly at odds.”

Toji feels too guilty to step in and correct you that his priority is to see you. Not that Megumi doesn’t matter, but what’s the point of hearing his son excels in everything he never could for the nth time in a month?

“And?”

You glance at the clear sky. “And you remember those forms Yaga gave us for the kids to fill out? Nobara said her dream was to buy out Daikanyama. You can guess what Yuji’s was. As for Megumi, he left his blank, and when I asked him later, he said that he doesn’t have time for dreams; that his goal is to repay his dad the money he lost from the Naobito deal, so he owes him nothing.”

The two men blink in surprise. “Didn’t think he knew about that.”

“You aren’t exactly a quiet speaker, Satoru.” You shrug. “Point is, he doesn’t know. Neither of them do. Megumi doesn’t know his father attends his PT meetings, and Mister Fushiguro doesn’t know about his son’s dream. Isn’t it funny? They both care about each other but are too awkward to admit it.”

“And you call me twisted.” Gojo yawns. “You wanna act like a bridge between them? Is that it?”

You shake your head. “I wouldn’t want to interfere. Megumi placed his trust in me as his teacher when he disclosed that, and Mister Fushiguro… We are nothing to each other.”

Yet, Toji mentally added.

“You might think it’s crazy, but I think Mister Fushiguro’s heart is full of raw emotion he can’t put in order on his own. He’s not taught how to, and I… I think I could help him out with that; be someone he can direct those feelings to. No, I—” You shake your head again, except this time you do so with a little smile of conviction tugging at your lips. “I want to be that person. I want to be his person.”

Gojo doesn’t say anything for a good while, and you end up nearly as flustered as Toji himself. “Of course there are plenty of other things I like about him! He is funny, charming, has his own house,” your voice drops in volume, “he is very attractive, and we have the same taste in seafood.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve got it all figured out.” Gojo let his hand drop after fixing his sunglasses over his nose bridge. “But you should know, Fushiguro, or rather Zen’in Toji, is a lot more than that. He’s killed more sorcerers in his prime than most curses combined. Not sayin’ that to be a buzz kill, but you should be careful around him, or else,” his tone drops a menacing octave as he peers over his shades, “I’ll have to terminate that relationship myself.

“You get it, right?” He switched back to his usual voice with a lighthearted chuckle. “Wouldn’t want to lose another precious friend.”

Silence reigns between you, and that’s Toji’s cue to walk up. He’s heard enough. The few fallen leaves rustle under his weight, caution thrown to the wind as tiny twigs crunch below his sandals. He’s close enough for you to tell someone’s coming, but not close enough to tell that someone is him.

“Got nothin’ better to do than gossip about others, Six-Eyes?” Toji paces in the middle of you two, his eyes flickering in your direction. He has to brace himself not to smile at how red your face has gotten, his resolve giving way to a suggestive smirk. “Teach’.”

“Mister Fushiguro.” Your smile is shaky, but there. Always there for him.

“Yo, it’s been a long time!” Gojo springs forward. “Came for a rematch?” His hand travels up his neck, rolling his shoulder blades one at a time. “Could use the exercise.”

“I’m done fighting kids.” Toji deadpans.

“Is that so?” Gojo scratches the back of his head. “Your hands must be full with all that jell-o they feed you at retirement house,” he chuckled at his own joke. “What then? Remembered to pay the med bills twelve years later?”

“Satoru!” You object.

“Only if you remembered to hand the Star Vessel cash back.”

“Mister Fushiguro!”

“Money belongs to Amanai,” Gojo raises his volume. “I don’t think she’d want you to have it.”

“Really? ‘Cause last time I checked, corpses don’t talk.” Toji grits his teeth and unwillingly finds himself at the end of your right palm, the other one prompting Gojo to maintain his distance.

Your eyes are round, but the look behind them firm. The same look you assume when you reprimand your students, he bets. His gaze is drawn to your fingers, small and slender as they graze his shirt. You’ve never been so close to him before. If it weren’t for the walking parasite to his left, he might’ve been enjoying the proximity.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Toji is the one to back away first, clearing his throat with a soundless cough. His eyes remain on Gojo’s while he speaks. “I’m here to take her out.” He stops and considers adding “to lunch”, previous occupation and all, but deems that should be obvious enough.

“You got time?” His tone softens, still bearing hints of the annoyance he failed to submerge.

A single finger pad skims over his chest as you withdraw your hand, slower than you did the other. So cute. He promises to give you plenty of opportunities to touch him later.

“I have an afternoon class, but Satoru can cover for me.” You smile sweetly at Toji and click your heel down on Gojo’s foot. “Right, Satoru?”

He’s inclined to agree, his face lightening up behind his shades. “As long as you agree to grade my papers for the next three months.”

“I’m already stuck grading the papers from when you went to Hiroshima,” you mumble under your breath, your nose scrunching in an expression that’s new to Toji. “Fine.”

“Mister Fushiguro?” You turn to him.

Toji shoots Gojo a stunted glare before his large palm finds its place in the small of your back, prodding you to move forward.

On the way to the car you find yourself making small talk about the weather, and on the way to the restaurant, your getaway is Megumi’s recent success in domain creation. This isn’t the first time you’re alone with him, but with every mile you count away from school grounds, you shrink into an ever-growing bundle of nerves that threatens to unravel on his passenger seat.

You’re in the middle of your third recounting of the kids’ excursion in Saitama when a hand moves to your lap and muzzles your every thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Teach’.” Toji says once you’re stopped at a red light.

He’s careful to keep his fingers over your dress, only his thumb looming over the bare skin of your knee. Your glance loses momentum as it travels from his knuckles to his wrist and then his elbow, reveling at the sight of muscles bulging underneath his rolled-up white shirt. You’re glad half of his attention remains on the steering wheel, because if you got to see the other side of his lopsided smile, then you might say something that’s unbecoming of an educator—and you almost do, after his hand drops to the gear stick.

“I don’t normally do these things, Mister Fushiguro.” You admit, preserving some of his leftover warmth with your own palm.

“Hmm? What things?”

“Going on dates with parents—it’s a first for me.”

“Oh? So that’s what this is?” He chuckles lowly, as if the notion were new to him. Other than the few visible wrinkles around his eyes, you wouldn’t guess this man was roughly ten years your senior. “You can relax. Got a long way before the main course, sweetheart.”

Embarrassment flares up in your cheeks at the pet name. You can’t remember the last time you were asked out, let alone called something of that volume. You don’t mind it. If anything, you like the ring.

“Ah, and do me a favor, won’t ya?” His head cocks to the side, tousled black strands falling forward. “Quit callin’ me that.”

“Calling you what?”

“Mister Fushiguro.” He grimaces. “It’s ex mister Fushiguro now.”

“What?” You exclaim with more excitement than you’re entitled to.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. “Check the compartment glove.”

You do as you’re told, discovering a bitten-off subway that’s wrapped around at least four layers of napkins. His sloppy eating habits mustn’t be what he’s so eager for you to see. You nudge it to the side and dig out a few crane toys that are too adorable to be his, and then finally, a stack of creased official documents that you have to separate from the massage parlor flyers stuck between the pages.

You quickly go over the lines, the most notable by far being the words “Divorce Agreement” written in all capitals on the front page. “Is this…?”

He nods. “Got ‘em this morning. Thought you’d take proof over my word.”

“That’s amazing, Mister Fushig—” You bite your tongue. “Looks like you got to keep all your assets, too.”

“All, except that name.”

You remember pondering why, even though Toji was born into the main family, both he and his son left the Zen’in surname behind. Others would kill for a chance to be written in their family registry—but then again, it was just like the Zen’ins to keep clan matters private.

“You can call me Toji until I take on a new surname.” He continues, his voice reflecting his lax smile. “Am open to suggestions.”

You return it, piecing a non-existent strand of hair behind your ear. “Already proposing that I should marry you?”

“Better strike while the iron’s hot,” quietly adding, “figured that should give ya enough time to sort my shit out.”

“What was that?”

He grins as he cups your hand with his own. “We’re here.”

Toji’s restaurant of choice turns out to be a cozy little family restaurant by the park in Nerima. He asks if you’ve been there before, but you shake your head. Having no car means you rarely get to go around Tokyo without Ijichi, the kids, or Utahime whenever she decides to pull a surprise visit. You’re a tourist in your own town.

At this time of the day—neither appropriate for lunch nor for dinner—the tables are mostly empty, and you’re free to choose your own seats. He points at the bar, and you point at the window. He pulls your chair and then plops down on his own, chin quick to balance atop his wrist while he stares off at the greenery on the horizon.

You thought sitting closer to the window would be cooler, but the heat is reflected through the glass. You should have listened to him.

A waiter drops off your menus with a tired smile, patting some of the perspiration off his forehead with a napkin. “Sure is hot today, isn’t it?”

You nod politely and start browsing the list of appetizers. All those nights you spent bent over your tiny desk lamp pile up against you as your stomach lets out a low grumble—overjoyed to be presented with something that doesn’t require a microwave.

“You drink?” Toji waves the wine menu in your face.

“If the occasion calls for it.” Your reply paves the way for his next question. “I’d say a glass of champagne is due to celebrate your freedom.”

He flings the menu at the next table. “Don’t have that here. Maybe next time,” he says, and you almost stand in ovation at the prospect of there being a next time.

“You don’t want anything?”

“Not a drinker.” He doesn’t care to elaborate. You go back to scanning the pages, and you must’ve taken long enough for him to grab onto your menu. “I can recommend you some.”

Your stomach gurgles again, and this time he hears it. His stare lowers over your body, and you shift in your seat, offering him the menu to distract him from your issue. His bottom lip curls in amusement.

“The stake’s good here since their stuff’s from Kobe-hmm,” Toji pauses as he zeroes in on an item that he taps with his index. “The barbecue ribs are the real deal.”

His green orbs spin like pinball in his eyes while he flips through the pages, pointing out what’s good and what sucks, as those are the two main phrases he uses to describe the specialties. This is the most you’ve heard him speak in a row, and admittedly, you miss out on most of what he says taking in his mannerisms.

His surprisingly well-trimmed nails drum on the table when they aren’t shifting to a different page, while his cheek prop up his fist. He makes a habit out of licking his slanted scar at every nasal consonant, and there’s a slight drawl whenever he stumbles upon a foreign word, his thin brows furrowing in uncertainty. However, his most distinctive quirk of all remains the unintentional frown his lips shape; a trait shared with your young protege.

Toji might be a little rough around the edges, but still carries some of that boyish charm.

“So?” He slaps the menu shut.

You suck on your teeth, unable to remember a single specialty. “I’ll have what you’re having. You sound like you come here often.”

He gestures for the waiter to come over. “The kids dragged me here all the time. There’s a park here,” he points outside the window, as if that’s self-explanatory. The image of a little Megumi and a little Tsumiki tugging at their father’s pants to play hide-and-seek makes your heart swell.

The waiter arrives approximately a minute later, and Toji places your orders. You’re apparently having the aforementioned ribs, along with a beef bowl, some chashu, and a few standard vegetable dishes that, for some reason, should not contain any red bell peppers. He chose plenty, but he chose smart. None of these break the bank.

“Why not bell peppers?” You ask once the waiter goes off to fetch your water. Toji scratches his jaw as if he’s got no idea what you’re talking about, until the realization hits him on the head.

“Fuck, Megumi’s the one who hates ‘em.” He curses and motions for the waiter again when you catch his hand in mid-air and bring it down onto the table.

“I’m not a big fan either.”

Your eyes lock with his and slowly dart to where your hands meet, watching as his fingers decisively slip between your own. He forces your wrist to prop against the wood, your knuckles hugging, while he tests out what it feels like to be holding hands. Ever since the only woman he let himself cherish passed away, he’s avoided the slightest illusion of romance, and if you could peer into his brain, you’d see him contemplating how your hands are small like hers—how they’re soft like hers.

They’re just hands; he dismisses the stupid notion that hands can be anything beyond what they appear to be, and yet yours feel special to him. He looks back at what you told that asswipe and wonders if those shards you claimed to see could ever amount to love or if you’d be cut like all the others he purposely hurt. He wonders if you are dumb enough to love him. He wonders if he’s smart enough to love you.

“Here’s the seasoned spinach and the chilled tofu—” The waiter cuts in, and the table clatters after you fail to retrieve your hand. The man makes room for the plates and the glasses, standing there with an awestruck smile until Toji harshly orders him to “Scram”.

Another man with a lousy temper.

Metallic chopsticks replace your hand as Toji transfers about half of the spinach to his plate. “Man, I’m starving.” He declares and wastes no time to dig in.

You follow his lead and quickly forget all about his rudeness as your eyes well up at the euphoric taste that floods your taste buds—your insides sincerely thanking him for each bite that makes it down your throat.

The conversation dies down while you share the appetizers unevenly, with him discreetly claiming the last bites under the guise of asking you whether you’re going to eat that. You don’t mind. After all, he is paying, and he’s ordered enough for your belly to gain that five-month pregnancy bump without your stolen share.

However, when the main dishes arrive, he does the unexpected and takes on your plate first, separating the meat from the bones without your asking. It’s a clumsy way to compensate, but you can’t help but think it’s more of a reflex than a tactic, considering all the times he must’ve had the kids slide their plates his way. You thank him by dropping an extra three chunks of meat on his plate, which he gladly accepts—no returns.

The waiter who didn’t dare approach your table after delivering the ribs comes back with the dessert menus and picks up the dishes. You don’t fuss over your choices for long—Toji decides on chocolate chiffon cake and you on coffee jelly. It is then that you realize your impromptu date is coming to an end, and you haven’t asked him one question about himself.

“So what is it that you actually do?”

No sorcerer who hasn’t heard the name “Sorcerer Killer” exists, yet only a select few know the urban legend behind it has retired—a decisive factor in his deal with Satoru.

“You mean when your little friend ain’t tasking me with his dirty business?” Toji shrugs. “Stocks, mostly.”

“Stocks?” That’s not at all what you expected.

“Takes about five minutes of your time, and if ya get lucky, you’re settled for life. Rest is knowing how to read people and the market.”

Judging by the sound his car engine emits, he must be still waiting for his big break.

“Would you say you’re good at reading others?”

“The market? It depends. The people?” Toji smiles confidently. “Yes.”

“What’s your reading on me then?” You take the bite.

“Hmm.” He rubs his chin while sizing you up. “I bet you were one of those four-eyed nerds at school.” His serious tone makes you snort out loud. “Eighty percent of your experience comes from dating shows, and the other twenty from group dates with your gals. Y’are too damn trusting and find good even in rotten apples, but don’t mind losing a shoe if someone gets on your nerves.”

“Oh, really?” You snicker into your palm and shake your head once he asks you if he’s wrong. “I’d say eighty percent right?”

“Heh, told ya I’m good.”

The waiter interrupts you as he drops your dessert in the middle of the table. He apologizes and points at a few tables away, where a little girl is devouring the last piece of chocolate cake available. Toji huffs in annoyance, attempting to bewitch the cake from the girl’s plate with his glare alone.

“We can share if you want.” You offer him a spoon, which he begrudgingly accepts.

A few spoonfuls and half a dessert later, he points the spoon at the family behind you and asks if you want one. “Kids,” he specifies. “You like ‘em?”

You tap your spoon against your lips. “Would you believe me if I said I see them as walking-talking grading papers? Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and lucked out with our first years, but this was supposed to be a co-teaching gig before Satoru offloaded even the second years on my back.”

“Want me to teach that brat a lesson?” Toji flashes a grin.

“I think his confectionery going missing before he gets to try any is enough punishment.” You smile mischievously. “I can save you some. Wagashi or castella?”

“I’m beginnin’ to like you more by the minute.” He blurts out and perhaps it’s a slip of the tongue because you catch him cocking his eyebrows upward right after.

“I like you too.” You earnestly say. “God, I sound like a teenager.”

“Nah, pretty sure you’re my dream woman.” You both scoff in unison. “Now that’s lame.”

“Yeah, it was.” You hide your blush by pretending to search for the waiter. “Shall we get the check?”

“Thanks for driving me hom—well, back.” You give a little bow, having yet to unbuckle your seat belt.

“Don’t sweat it.” Toji leans against the steering wheel. He looks even more handsome in the late-afternoon light, the shadows that contour his face bringing out his defined jawline and jade eyes. You aren’t prepared to part with the sight. Not when you were just getting accustomed to it, but every word that follows leads to a quicker parting.

“I had fun today.” He nods.

“Let’s do it again sometime.” He nods again.

“I’ll be going now.” He is reluctant to, but nods a third time.

You open the door and step out of the vehicle, your waving turning into a grip as you tug the car door back open. A perplexed look wanes into a full-blown smirk when you ask him if he’d like to come in for a bit.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Your desk chair looks comically small wobbling beneath Toji’s weight, a long arm draped over the backrest while he gawks at your crouching form, half your body—save for your backside—swallowed by the mini fridge. He hears a lot of rattling. The dorms are quiet after sundown, and with the expulsion of the third years, the sound of empty drawers being flipped inside out (just in case a minuscule bottle of Ramune has slipped between them) echoes throughout the east wing’s desolate floors.

You should’ve grabbed those soda cans when you still had the chance. You consider running outside, but in the unlikely event no one’s gotten to them first, you doubt they’re safe for consumption after boiling under the hot sun for hours on end.

“Damn, kid screwed this one up badly, huh?”

You glance over your shoulder at Toji, who’s going through the scattered papers on your desk, finding the one test Megumi flunked in his entire four-month career at Jujutsu Tech. You close the fridge and pad toward the desk, balancing against the edge to peer at the answer sheets in Toji’s hands.

“Everyone failed that test.” You trace a finger over the bright red 48 mark. “Megumi actually did better than most; rest scored below 20.”

“Of course he did.” Toji scoffs.

He leaves the papers on the desk and quirks a brow as he takes in your image. Your dress has lifted higher up your thighs now that you’re propped on the furniture, revealing a slit that his eyes discreetly follow to where his imagination needs to fill in the blanks. He’s not here to fuck you, he reminds himself. He’s here because you were kind enough to offer him a drink for giving you a lift, but your hands are notably empty.

“What happened to the drinks?” Toji forces himself to look you in the eye, supposing that your eyes existed on the same level as your tits—perfectly delineated under your dress’ square neckline. He hasn’t even kissed you, and he’s already picturing what your nipples would look like sucked between his lips.

He shouldn’t go there. He really isn’t here to fuck you.

“I… forgot to do my shopping this week,” you answer, oblivious to his lewd thoughts. “Sorry, I brought you up here for nothing.”

“It’s fine.” Toji glances at the wall clock. Time’s the greatest excuse. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

And he really thinks he’s made the right call, until your dangling foot pushes against his chest to prevent him from getting up—slowly traveling down his lap while his eyes travel up to your actual ones, picking on a glint he previously missed.

“It’s not right for me to let you leave empty-handed.” Your voice assumes a sultry intonation that contradicts your angelic smile. The spread of your legs widens to reveal a thin white strip that clashes with the dark blue of your dress. He feels a strain in his pants; his conviction is wearing thin. It’s more of a “maybe” now, if anything.

His hand slides from your ankle to your knee, rubbing rough circles that purposely stray away from your sensitive parts. “Whatcha offering, doll?” Toji rasps.

“How’s twenty percent of what you got wrong sound?” Your toes create friction as they curl against his crotch, swaying back and forth. He doesn’t answer. He expects you to go on. “I was a big-time nerd. Got in college with a fully covered scholarship and all.”

His breath hitches as he moves closer to your thighs. “Expected that much.”

“And I did go on a lot of group dates. The girls wanted to meet guys whose names didn’t start and end with Gojo Satoru.” Your heel presses firmly onto his length. He’s big. You can’t tell exactly how big, but you know it won’t take long to have his cock plugged in one of your holes.

“And you didn’t?” Toji asks, rolling the plush flesh in his fingers like play-dough.

“I valued my precious dating shows a lot more.” You feel the stretch of his lips as they lay on your inner thigh, peppering kisses until the lower half of his face disappears past the layers of your dress.

“Seems to me I read ya like an open book,” Toji inhales deeply, growling a low “Shiiit, Y/N” when his nose nudges your dripping cunt, his jade eyes flickering shut while you shiver. You’ve never heard him use your name before—all pretense of respect in the form of his little Teach’s drops the second you start to rut your pussy into his face.

Before his hands can slip into your underwear, you prod him back onto his chair and get off the desk. His glare fades as soon as he watches you kneel in front of him and rest both your elbows on both sides of his knees.

“Skipping dates doesn’t mean I missed out on the experience.” Your smile drips with honey while you palm him on the way to unzipping his jeans.

You tug them down, and his hips wiggle to accommodate you. It’s a lot tougher than you thought, with the tight fabric stubbornly adhering to every muscle of his bulky thighs until it recedes. His boxers come down with greater ease, and your hand finally wraps around his cock, feeling his girth out in your open fist.

“I told you at the restaurant, but I really like you.” You give his length a slow stroke that has him sucking his teeth. “I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you barge into my classroom. I like you so much I think I can love you.”

Toji bends forward and pinches your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, tilting your head until his lips find yours—soft when they fumble around and rough when they part for his tongue to sneak into your mouth. Your delicate fingers insist on pumping his cock as he cups your cheek, ending the kiss with a playful bite across your bottom lip.

“I know,” he grins. “Heard ya talkin’ to that brat earlier.”

You would be shying away if it weren’t for his cock throbbing in your grasp, his swollen tip flushed with the exact same shade of feverish red as your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping isn’t so nice, Toji.”

“I’m not so nice either, but you overlook that.” Toji throws his head back, holding onto his breath, while you drool all over his cock head—clear strings of saliva streaming down the veiny shaft. “Y’know what’d be nice, hah—having that nice little mouth of yours wrapped around me.” Your hand drops to his balls, pink lips eager to fulfill his wish, with your cheeks barely hollowing around the tight fit. “So fucking nice,” he hisses.

His filthy praises are muffled out by his groans, which grow both in volume and in pitch the more inches you manage in your throat, his raspiness fading into the breathiest of moans once your nose tingles his unkempt base. You let go with a plop, air returning to your lungs through heavy pants. Your fists take over instead, appearing beyond puny as they struggle to engulf his hefty girth. Toji’s by far the biggest you’ve had; another of his assets you’re elated to discover.

You steal a lick from the precum that’s glazing his tip and purse your lips together. It’s a bit strong in flavor, but you don’t mind. It’s his.

“I meant everything I said,” you beam. “I still think of you as nice.”

“You’re bound to milk some kindness out of me if ya keep goin’ sweetheart.” Toji jokes, taking hold of his cock. He starts jerking himself to the sight of you, and you may have all your clothes on, but the way you genuinely smile at him, lips glossy from spit, almost sends him over the edge. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles. “Even thought you were pretty in that—ugh, what was it?”

“Tunic?” You ask, recounting your first meeting.

“Yeah, right. That ridiculous grandma’s tunic you flaunted.” Raven strands flap over his forehead. “Wanted to rip that right off your body and fuck you on the spot.”

His words send pleasurable tingles throughout your body, with the pool in your panties overflowing your thighs. “What stopped you?” Your lips attach to his balls, your wet tongue lapping around until it finds a spot that has him fisting his cock at a faster pace, the tip rhythmically smacking your forehead.

Toji fails to gather his thoughts; his mind is solely focused on chasing after his incoming release. You feel his balls tighten and back away, setting your palms flat against your lap—eyes marveling at how the man who kept you tossing and turning in an empty bed for months on end is about to spill his load all over your face. A man whom you, up until a few hours ago, dreaded would reject you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he pants out. “Gonna make you even prettier. Gonna make you into my pretty girl—fuck, all mine.”

“All yours, Toji.” You repeat, lulling your tongue out. “Cum on my face, Toji. Please, gimme your cum.”

And it is that please that gets his cock to spurt his milky cum all over your lips and chin, with only a handful of his velvety ropes making it onto your tongue. He grunts, squeezing the final drops from the tip until it stops twitching. He wipes it clean against your lips and helps you to your feet, taking advantage of your imbalance to hold you by the waist.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask, seeing as Toji blatantly drills holes into your skull.

Heavy eyelashes flutter over his low-hooded eyes. A dark chuckle rings against your skin as his mouth presses against your jaw. “Aren’t ya cheeky?” He licks a portion of his cum off your chin and feeds it to your tongue, all nice and slow, in a heady kiss that brings your bodies closer to one another. Your cunt is still soaked, pulsing around nothing, and his cock is still rock-hard, throbbing against your stomach.

Holding turns into groping as Toji gives your ass a squeeze. “Better not fail Megumi from now on.”

Your teeth clash together as you break into a sudden cackle. “Someone might think you’re only doing this to secure his grades.”

“Among other reasons,” he states.

“Is this how you care for your son’s education?” You humor him. “By seducing his teacher?”

“Nah,” Toji pauses to tug at your dress’ strap. He’s going to have to unzip it if he wants to move things forward. “My kid’s plenty smart on his own. Besides, the teacher’s the one doin’ the seducing here.” He caresses your curves and smiles in triumph once he spots the zipper on the side. “Wouldn’t fuck ‘er if she’d let me go back to my car to jerk it like a responsible man would. Would’ve waited until the second date; buy her something good—you like flowers, right?”

You lift your arms for him to strip you. He leaves you to stand in your unmatched underwear, black lace on your tits, and white cotton around your hips. His tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. “Is it too late to enroll?”

Your eyes perform a full circle. You almost shove his hands away from your bra when you realize it’s already off. He thumbs at your nipples with his palms cupped around your breasts, refusing to let an inch of your soft skin spill from his calloused, practiced fingers.

“I’m afraid you’re behind the rest of the class.” You go along with his game of role-play. “I’d have to give you private lessons.”

“Sign me up.”

Toji steps back to remove his shirt, undoing his buttons so quickly that you’re certain they’ll fly right off. He discards it on the floor, and you take stock of his physique, inevitably gaping at the jagged scars that span from below his left shoulder to the center of his torso. Your fingers carefully trail over them, as if the violence that caused them still lurks beneath.

So that’s what sustaining limitless leaves you with, you momentarily muse, before your sympathy dissolves into a quarter of a smile. You don’t want him to think you’re pitying him—because you aren’t. Both he and Satoru made their choices, and you refuse to be the judge of their decade-long feud.

His hands return to your waist, while yours meet behind his neck. You kiss again and again, the action of mouths stealing each other’s oxygen repeating until the edge of your desk digs into your lower back. His strong arms smother you like he’s never embraced another before; overwhelming you to the point where you’re moaning despite his cock not being in yet.

“Just so you know, this gonna be a regular thing.” Toji mutters, his green eyes confirming his sincerity in the way he pulls your thighs apart. He doesn’t think he’s never said that phrase before. It’s always the opposite.

He dips a hand into your panties, lathering his palm with your slick, and then strokes his dick. “Not ‘ere for the sex only.”

“You’re gonna stay over and buy me breakfast?” You entertain the idea.

“As long as convenience store Onigiri cuts it. A bit tight this month.” Toji leaves you some breathing space, kicking his pants off his ankles. “A’right. Turn around and arch that back for me.”

A wicked smirk rises on his scar as you face away from him. “I was hoping to fuck you on your little classroom desk, but this will do just fine. You can look back on it next time ya feel swamped with papers.”

“I won’t be able to get any work done!” You protest.

The aforementioned papers glue to your breasts when you prop yourself on your elbows. You glance over your shoulder, catching sight of Toji positioning himself between your legs. You feel him run his cock between your now-bare folds, your panties having dropped in a pool around your feet like tasteless anklets.

Toji kneads your ass with one hand, the other stroking himself along your clenching holes. “You can think of this as my confession.” He trails off as he drives his thick cock into your wet pussy, and he does it slowly enough for it not to hurt, but it’s him who ends up needing a good minute to adjust after he bottoms out.

He knows it’ll feel even better once he moves, but it already feels perfect as is. So warm; so tight; so good that he’s afraid he’ll lose composure and jackhammer into you until the desk legs break.

“Haven’t had such perfect pussy in ages.” Toji grunts, his nails digging sharp crescent moons into the fat of your ass.

He’s had his fair share of pretty girls with empty brains and tight cunts, but yours is something else. Yours, he wants it owned. He wants it to lull him to sleep every night, only to wake up the next morning to the mess you’ve made creaming around his cock all night long. He wants to make you into his personal cock warmer, and he nearly cringes at the thought, until he feels you pulse around him and realizes you probably want that too.

“Fuck me, T-Toji.” You stammer, pulling your body forward only to slam it back on his length.

That’s all he needs to get going. His hips mercilessly slap against your own while he drills his cock in and out with such vigor that he feels it kissing your cervix. The desk bangs hard against the wall, almost overpowering the sounds of your soft whimpers. He forces you to meet his tempo, using the leverage on your ass to cut down on the distance between his leaking head and your puffy cunt.

“‘member what I told ya when I first saw ya?” Toji slows down, his fingers reaching between your thighs to swipe at your clit while his hips switch to languid rolls.

“Y-You mean after you—fuck, put your shoes on my desk thinking it was Satoru’s?”

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” He huffs and brings your arm behind your back, pressing down on it. “Remember,” he mouths hot kisses down your nape and shoulder, his palm cupping your entire cunt while your walls flutter around him. “Remember how I said you’re too hot to be stuck ‘ere teaching brats manners?”

You fist at the table, desperately searching in your foggy mind for a memory you can’t seem to find or a place to grip, the only answer you can muster being, “You never said that.”

“I didn’t?” Toji flicks the sensitive nub upward. “Well, not every thought’s meant to be shared, mhm?”

He pops your dialogue bubble by nipping at your neck, his cock scratching an itch that has you writhing in pleasure.

“Shhh, baby.” He coos, the warm timbre in his voice soothing the shrill ringing in your head. “Promise I’ll be more vocal now on. Tell ya all about how good that sloppy pussy’s flooding me, or how gorgeous your cute face looks lighting up whenever ya see me.”

The flames in your stomach shoot up to your heart, beating so loud you swear it punctuates his every word.

“How many times was it?” He asks. “Eight PT meetings in two months? Or ten? Ya think I wouldn’t notice I was the only parent called?”

Your head droops forward. “Would’ve been eleven if you didn’t come today. Wanna see more of you, Toji. F-fuck, wanna see you all the time.”

“And you will,” he detaches from your neck and picks up his speed, keen on having you see starts with the way he thumbs your clit. “Gonna make you cum around my cock every day, sweetheart. Just call me and—ugh, I’ll come runnin’. No need for that PT crap.”

Your bitten lips do nothing to contain your unregulated cries as you tighten around him like a vice—the only coherent words among your long-drawn vowels being “I’m cumming, Toji!” that you scream at the top of your lungs.

Toji begrudgingly pulls out, letting you ride your high alone. If he stays in a second longer, he knows you’ll end up with a nine-month trouble that will escalate into a lifelong problem in the form of paychecks for him and test sheets for you.

He plops down on the chair to cool down for a moment, proudly admiring your stupefied expression, eyes blown out with sheer ecstasy, and lips gasping for air.

“Hey. Are you free tomorrow?”

Maybe you are worth the trouble.

The delightful buzzes in your head are replaced with a series of acute knocks against your door. You barely have time to locate your rug of a dress in the corner of the room and zip it up, hoping the fabric’s enough to keep the marks on your body out of your visitor’s field of view.

“Should’ve known,” you groan, wishing you'd shoved your head in the pillows and pretended you were missing—except, there's no hiding from him. You step outside and close the door with your back, folding your arms over your chest. “What brings you here, Satoru?”

“Mornin’ to you too, Y/N.” His mouth is full as he speaks, rice grains framing both sides of his lips. “How was your date?”

“It was…” you pause, focusing on the plastic convenience store bag he’s holding rather than his eyes, “good.”

“Good, huh?” He grimaces. He doesn’t have to tell you he was hoping it’d fail. “Anyway, came to drop these. Someone left them on your doorstep.”

You peer into the contents of the bag, full of onigiri in different flavors—two that are tuna mayo, two with shrimp tempura, two with salted salmon, and lastly, a spare pickled plum.

Your lips curl into a smile as you pick your favorite from the bunch. So that's your answer.

"Thanks, Satoru." He is surprised you didn't scold him, gladly taking his chance to leave before you speak again. "Wait."

"I was the one who stole your Manju."

[enchantedflameandflower]

Billy Butcher fic! 18+ H/C

He came out of her room soon after with damp hair, looking ridiculously handsome. She pressed a mug into his hands as he leaned against the counter.

“I need another address, love,” he rumbled after a long sip while she was shuffling through some mail. “You want a shag before or after?” he asked, dimple showing. 

Tag List: @2dead2function @secretdreamlandmentality @nosebeers @vavafaure1994

This takes place between 6 and 7 of Season 3! I really really hope you enjoy! Lots of hurt/comfort here!

Chapter 1

previous chapter (Chapter 35)

~*~*~

Part 36

In only one moment the peaceful, lovely quiet of Addison’s dark bedroom was ripped apart at the seams. 

She was wrenched from her dreams by a loud, pained shout and the bed shaking beneath her as if the building were crumbling down. But she’d gone to sleep hours ago very much alone. Though she’d been in a deep sleep, her eyes flew open and she shot up in bed. What in the hell - 

“Billy,” she breathed his name with relief finally realizing.

But when the fuck had he come in? Somehow he hadn’t woken her when he did and now he was asleep next to her - still asleep despite his outburst, the sheet tangled around his body, his face contorted in pain.

“Billy,” Addison said again, louder, reaching out to shake him. 

His dark eyes popped open, wild and fearful, and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it away from him as if he was about to pin her to the bed. If she wasn’t a supe, maybe he might’ve hurt her, but she was and she knew not to resist, not to startle him more. “It’s me, Billy. It’s just me. Just a bad dream.”

The confusion in his eyes started to clear as he finally focused on her face and she watched as his gaze flicked over each of her features in turn, as if checking to make sure it was really her, checking to make sure she was real. She couldn’t miss the relief and then affection in his eyes.

“You’re here. You stayed,” he husked. “You’re here.”

He let go of her wrist and she shifted on the bed to sit facing him, tucking her legs underneath her and tiredly falling back against the pillows. “Of course I’m here,” she answered. “It’s my bed.”

Butcher managed to look a little chagrined at that and he pushed himself up to sit propped against the wall. 

He looked weary and exhausted to the bone. Even despite everything, her heart swelled for him. “Nightmare?” she asked.

A hollow empty look came to his eyes then for a moment before he managed to tamp it down again. “Not sure. Just…I were alone.”

The pain in his expression hit her hard. She couldn’t pretend he didn’t mean everything to her. She wanted to reach out to him but she waited, trying to resist until he listened to her. “Maybe you should stop pushing people away then.”

Billy frowned, his forehead creasing. “Do ya want me to leave…”

Even if she was still a little irritated and caught off guard by his sudden appearance, when she really thought about it, there was not one single part of her that wanted him to leave. He needed her right now. 

Addison shook her head. “No,” she answered, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “I’m here. I’m not going to disappear.” She couldn’t.

Billy rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing away the images in his mind maybe, then smoothed his fingers over his beard. 

Tired, Addison shifted, stretching her legs out and nestling down again into the pillows. She curled up on her side to watch him in the dark. She hadn’t forgotten she had told him before it was over but she knew it wasn’t what she really wanted and she wouldn’t abandon him. Maybe it wasn’t what he really wanted either. When he came to her like this, seeking her out, it only reminded her how much she loved him. 

“Why did you come?” she finally asked, curiosity winning out against exhaustion.

For a few moments he was silent and she almost said his name but then he spoke. “In the neighborhood,” he answered brusquely. “Too tired to trek all the way to - to where we’re staying.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you for a while.”

He was quiet for a few long minutes. “Did ya hear what…” he trailed off but she knew what he meant.

“It would've been impossible to miss. I saw Annie’s livestream as soon as I woke up. Then I logged into work and read the reports myself as they came in.”

Butcher didn’t say anything else and she was sure he was waiting for a lecture but she just didn’t have the energy right now. Leaning back, she tilted her head to look up at him. “Are you okay?” The expression on his face was a mixture of anger and pain and frustration and defeat. It was hard to tell in the dark, but his eyes started to look glassy and her heart squeezed in her chest. He wasn’t okay.

“We had him, Addi. We had him and I failed. I thought -”

Addison let out a breath. “If you had succeeded, you would be dead too.” It was the one thought she had kept pushed away while she had pieced together what happened by herself, but he was all but confirming it and the idea of him being gone forever…

He stilled and she could see he was looking up at the ceiling. “Nahhh…I weren’t that close to Homelander, really… If Soldier Boy had…”

Addison huffed, her frustration rising. “Right,” she interrupted. “You survived the first of those…blasts…there, and you’re telling me you ‘had him’ so I assume there was going to be a second blast? While you were holding Homelander? And that wouldn’t kill you? Even on that temp V shit.”

“Ehh…” he sort of shrugged. “I think Soldier Boy were holding him actually…memory’s a bit foggy.”

“Billy, when I find out you’re lying to me…I’m going to be really pissed off again.”

“Don’t you mean ‘if’?” His mouth quirked.

“No.”

“So that means you ain’t angry now, though.”

Addison closed her eyes, already too tired again. “I don’t know what I am. What happened was horrible and if you had died…”

He shook his head once. “Yeah it were a right fuck up all around. We didn’t know fuckin’ Herogasm would be goin’ on…”

“Billy…”

“That wasn’t the plan -“ He stopped and he didn’t say anything else. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t finish. “M.M. won’t ever forgive me for this one.”

“What happened with M.M.?” Addison asked, alarmed. 

“He tried to go off against Soldier Boy. I stopped him.”

“But that’s suicide,” Addison exclaimed. “His daughter…”

Billy shook his head. “He didn’t care.”

Addison didn’t know what to say; she reached out to squeeze his hand. 

Finally he turned his head to look at her and the pain in his eyes was devastating. “It’s only a matter of time before Homelander kills everyone. And I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t tried everything to stop him.”

When she didn’t answer, Billy reached over to brush her hair back behind her shoulder, stroking it once before pulling away again. 

“I can fuck off…” he offered.

Addison shook her head firmly. He was right. He was right about Homelander, even if he had his own reasons too. And not now. He couldn’t leave now that he was here, and he was alive, and he had survived another day. She couldn’t let him leave, not when he looked like a single strand of straw might break him.

She shook her head once more. It was too late, she loved him and she didn’t want him to go. She still had a glimmer of hope, and she couldn’t help him if she made him leave. “You need to rest.”

He laid down, facing her in the dark and all she wanted was to help him. If there was anything she could do, she would. She knew he never let anyone else see this, see how much he hurt and she couldn’t add to it.

Billy reached for her, and she went into his arms without hesitation as he nestled her tightly against his bare chest. His strong arms wove tightly around her body and he buried his face in her hair against the curve of her neck. 

It was only a matter of minutes before she was peacefully sleeping again now that he was safe beside her, heart beating slow and steady, almost in sync with the heartbeat of the little life inside of her. 

*~*~*~*

The next morning Billy was still asleep next to her when Addison woke. For awhile she laid there, reveling in the simpleness of it, savoring the peace. 

Eventually she got up and made some coffee and a few minutes later she heard him starting the shower.

He came out of her room soon after with damp hair, looking ridiculously handsome. Addison pressed a mug into his hands as he leaned against the counter.

“I need another address, love,” he rumbled after a long sip while she was shuffling through some mail. “You want a shag before or after?” he asked, dimple showing. 

Addison lifted her brow with a little snort of amusement. “I’ll take a rain check. Who do you want now?”

“Mindstorm.”

Addison jerked her head up to look at him, giving a short laugh. “Good fucking luck. I can tell you right now that no one’s got Mindstorm. He’s been off grid for years. No one knows where he is. Not even us.”

“Could you at least try?” he bit out.

“Excuse you.”

“Sorry,” Butcher sighed. “Listen, I need this to work.”

“We don’t have him Billy.” Addi shook her head, shrugging. “I’ll run it, but I already know for a fact we’ve got nothing credible on that guy. I know these files top to bottom.”

Butcher glowered and Addison sighed as she went to sit at her laptop. 

She tapped the screen, then let her fingers fly over the keyboard until reports were scrolling by just as fast.

“Twenty-seven possible addresses from the past 40 years, Billy,” she said as the computer chimed. “It’s pointless.”

“Fine then.”

Addison took a breath then fixed him with a steely expression. “Mindstorm is bad news, Billy. He really fucks people up. I don’t think you should go after him. He’s hiding, just leave him be.”

“I gave me word.”

“This is not a good plan,” she added, with a little more force, but it didn’t matter. 

Billy turned away. “Shoulda figured you’d be on their side,” he grumbled under his breath as he sat down at her kitchen table to tug his boots on. 

“Don’t be stupid. I’m on your side, but there is a middle ground here, you know? You’re all so angry with each other you can’t even think straight. If you could actually calm down and work together it might already be over.”

“They won’t listen to anything logical.”

Addison tilted her head. “Because that’s one of your strengths.”

He grumbled again without looking up. “I’m taking any chance I get. I have to.”

Maybe it made her a horrible person but she understood. She knew what Homelander was capable of. It was unthinkable and getting closer every day. She knew what it meant to him. “I know.”

Billy stood up and crossed the room, stopping to kiss the crown of her head before he left but she stopped him, grabbing his forearm. 

“Billy.” She looked up at him, waiting for him to meet her eyes. “I love you. You don’t have to keep doing this to yourself.” 

“You keep me goin’ love.” He stroked his hand over her hair.

Addison lifted a brow sardonically. “I give you the strength to continue on your never-ending homicidal, suicidal war path? Oh, great.”

His answering smirk while he slid his dark sunglasses on was nothing short of pure, devious mischief but it still made her stomach flip all the same. 

She was fucking crazy for loving him, but it was far too late now.

*~*~*~*~*

Part 37

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think! Requests are open!