#and i watched the epilogue after breaking up with him and like

[penkura]

last forever [3/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: At time of posting, this is the most recent chapter I have finished. Chapter four will be worked on and hopefully posted tomorrow (4/29), then I will update every Monday, hopefully.

Your stress is through the roof, watching Zoro fight against Dracule Mihawk. You're wringing your hands hearing Luffy tell Johnny and Yosaku not to interfere, and it makes you want to jump over and help. You knew this was his plan as soon as name left Johnny's mouth before you all arrived at Baratie, you hadn't gotten the chance to tell him he should wait, and seeing his swords break, the large attack from Mihawk that left him bloodied and Luffy screaming his name now makes you wish you could go back and do that.

"Sis, we need your sewing skills!!"

Johnny and Yosaku brought Zoro onto a small ship manned by Usopp, one you'd probably be taking to go after Nami and bring her and the Merry back.

You're about to jump in and go to them, before remembering the one thing keeping you from doing so.

Damn it, I can't swim!

"You have to bring him over here! You guys know I can't swim!"

"We can't get close enough," Usopp yells and looks between you and Zoro, "He's bleeding really bad!"

Biting your lip, you barely notice Luffy wrapping his arms around you three times before he says your name.

"You're gonna fly!!"

"Wait wha–"

Luffy lifts you up and stretches his arms all the way over, making sure you've touched down on the boat before he lets go, arms snapping back as he tells you to help Zoro. You start getting your supplies ready, your heart pounding in your ears and you barely notice Zoro awake, lifting up Wado Ichimonji and making a promise to Luffy with heavy breaths and tears you've never seen before.

Actually, you've never seen Zoro cry before this day.

"Until I become…the world's greatest swordsman, I swear…I'll never lose again! Got that, King of the Pirates?!"

Hearing Luffy's agreement makes you smile as you stare at Zoro, quickly remembering you have to start stitching him up or he'll bleed to death in this tiny boat. Usopp starts you all in the direction Nami took the Going Merry, while Johnny and Yosaku watch you with tear filled eyes as you stitch up the gash from Mihawk down Zoro's chest, he's nearly fast asleep by the time you finish and cut the thread.

A very quiet word of thanks leaves his mouth before he's asleep, you simply respond telling him not to mention it, rinsing your hands in the sea water. Johnny gives you praise for being able to stitch up such a large wound, Usopp saying you were one of the best he'd ever seen for a makeshift doctor. You hear them, but don't respond, watching Zoro sleep instead. Despite his loss to Mihawk he looks as if he's resting peacefully, and that makes you happy to think about for the time being.

You're quiet as you place a hand on his face, stroking his cheek slightly while telling the others that he'll be alright, before removing your hand from his face.

You'd love to tell him how amazed you are and that you have feelings for him, but now's not the time. Maybe another day, when you aren't chasing down your friend who's stolen your ship and is going off to who knows where, and maybe when Zoro isn't unconscious from nearly bleeding out after taking on a fight he couldn't win (but oh how badly you wanted him to win it).

Right now, you have to focus on Nami.

+!+

How you all have now liberated three towns from Pirates or the threat of Pirates, you aren't sure. Your crew isn't anything like the Pirates your parents had tried to teach you to fear as a child. Luffy was far too kind and really only wanted to be King of the Pirates, but helping Nami came first.

Freeing her home from Arlong and his Fishman Pirates was the main priority of the day, and you were glad to lend a hand. Nami had become your best friend in no time, you had to help her. Even when you were told (ordered really) to stay back by Zoro, you made sure you were ready to help if needed.

And you tried. Tried to pull Zoro away after he'd beaten Hachi and was on the verge of collapse from a fever and his wounds from Mihawk, but he tried to shove you away and tell you he was fine despite the dizzied look he had. Arlong ripping his stitches out caused you to try again, trying to help him, but you were stopped by Johnny and Yosaku pulling you back, telling you not to bother because you'd just die.

Even seeing Luffy swap places with Zoro terrified you that he was going to be even more badly injured, but you were still held back by your old friends through the end of Luffy's fight against Arlong, finally freeing Nami and her hometown.

Your biggest concern afterwards was Zoro, but when you saw him later that day with a drink in hand you knew he was fine. Most of your time at the party was spent with Nami and her sister Nojiko, listening to Usopp tell his stories to the kids, and sharing Sanji's food with Luffy. Every now and then you'd look for and find Zoro, a few times smiling brightly at him when you caught his eye, which made him look away from you immediately.

Sanji, still brand new to the crew, noticed the looks you and Zoro shared that night. You were strange, your relationship with him, whatever it was, was strange to him.

Even stranger, he notices you leave Nami and Nojiko at one point, hurrying over to Zoro and latching onto his arm, making him lean in to hear whatever you had to say. He rolls his eyes while you smile, but doesn't shake you off, letting you move his arm around your shoulders while he has another drink.

You're weird, both of you. The rest of the crew isn't phased at all by the two of you being so buddy-buddy, but Sanji wonders what you two have going on. Are you together? How long have you known each other? Surely you only met when you each joined Luffy, right?

When Zoro leaves you to go look for Luffy, food, or another drink, whatever it is, you seem content to be left alone, until Sanji sees your shoulders drop and you look almost like you're going to cry. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, he's not sure.

But if Zoro said or did something to upset you, Sanji was going to make sure the swordsman paid for it.

+!+

The majority of your crew doesn't know of your struggles with nightmares. Normally they take the form of your parents, the man they were going to force you to marry, and being trapped in a loveless life in your home village where most treated their children like property to be sold. Your only solace there being your older brother who was protective over you. Being the one to help you run away, making you swear to never come back and to take his sword to protect yourself after he'd spent the last few years teaching you how to use it.

You were good at keeping those demons to yourself, to not worry anyone. The nightmares had been less lately anyway, you felt safe with everyone around. The six of you on your way to Loguetown, you and Nami snatching up the office area as your room, both turning in late in the night after long talks about numerous things.

Your bad dreams, however, took a new form that night. This time, the dream takes you back to Baratie, back to Zoro's fight against Mihawk, and instead of him waking long enough for his promise to Luffy, you're sitting beside him while he bleeds from the wound and you're unable to move. You can't bring yourself to start stitching him up, and before anything else happens, you've woken up.

While it wasn't as bad as the dreams about your parents, it was enough to shock you awake and into a seated position on your bed. Nami is still fast asleep in her own bed, apparently not having noticed or heard your heavy breathing from the nightmare. You don't know why your nightmares took this turn, you'd much rather deal with seeing your parents in your dreams than seeing your closest friend and ally dying in front of you, even though he was just down the hall and alive.

It's several minutes of tossing and turning before you decide to get up and sneak off to the boys' bunks, turning back to your habit you'd been determined to stop as more crewmates joined, but you can't help it.

The past nightmares have been enough to make you slip into bed with Zoro before, he never fought you over it and let you stay, let you continue when it was just the two of you, but with more friends you worried they'd all get the wrong idea.

And maybe they will, but if Zoro doesn't mind and it helps you sleep, they shouldn't complain or tease you. Hopefully.

Usopp and Luffy are both spread out on the floor, making you have to tiptoe around them to get to Zoro's hammock, not even registering that Sanji's is empty.

You're quiet while you slip in and under the blanket, wrapping your arms around Zoro and making yourself comfortable. You figured he was asleep when you walked in, but his hand moves to grab one of your own, thumb stroking the back of your hand while he waits to hear if you say anything.

You don't, Zoro doesn't mind, he knows you won't tell him the contents of your nightmares anymore, not after the first one. If you're unable to sleep, he's glad to let you join him and keep you safe. He promised he would do so, helping keep your demons away so you could rest.

Unfortunately, your peaceful sleep is interrupted early in the morning by Sanji shouting at Zoro to get off you, like he'd done something wrong when you were the one to climb into his hammock.

"What do you think you're doing to [Y/N]-chan, you moss head?! Get your hands off her!"

A pillow lands on your face, likely aimed for Zoro, but it misses him due to the fact his face is buried in your shoulder while one arm is around you. Normally your face would be red at this, but with Sanji still nearly screeching for Zoro to "unhand" you, all you can think about is crawling in a hole and dying.

Zoro gets fed up and eventually lets you go, taking the pillow that disturbed you both and throwing it back at Sanji with twice the force.

"Shut up already!! You're going to wake the whole damn East blue!"

"I will as soon as you stop violating sweet [Y/N]!"

Yeah you really want to just up and die right now.

"Who's violating her?!"

"You are, you savage!"

"How do I violate my own wife when she's the one that crawled into my bed?!"

Everything goes quiet, you don't want to know what look is on Sanji's face at the moment, but you're grateful for Nami coming in and telling everyone to shut up, even though she's a moment too late. Luffy and Usopp were awake and just watching the scene unfold, until Zoro's statement which makes Usopp's eyes go wide and Luffy laughs. He just knew you two wouldn't be able to keep this secret.

You're so embarrassed that you pull the blanket up over your now definitely bright red face, wishing Zoro and Sanji didn't feel the need to egg each other on and instigate all these petty fights.

When you finally decide to look and see what's going on, Luffy's still laughing, Nami is confused, Zoro's still got a glare set on Sanji, while your chef and Usopp are both looking at the two of you wide eyed, disbelief on their faces before there's one outburst from Sanji.

"Your WHAT?!"

+!+

It feels like an interrogation. You're in the kitchen still in your pajamas with Usopp and Sanji both questioning you and Zoro about your little marriage, Nami and Luffy enjoying breakfast to your side.

Zoro's completely unbothered by the whole thing, answering Sanji's questions with an annoyed look, while you answer Usopp's inquiries with your face still red from the way everyone was woken up that morning.

Eventually, they come to realize you two are only married to prevent the arranged one your parents set up, making Sanji sigh in relief and Usopp is slightly concerned but seems to understand.

“So, one more time,” you just can’t look at Usopp while he relays your situation once again, “You and Zoro got married to prevent you being forced into an arranged marriage, but you’re going to annul?”

You nod, taking glances at Zoro, who continues to glare at Sanji for waking you both too early. All of this was too much first thing in the morning, and you both had decided to keep this little marriage a secret from any new recruits, wanting only Luffy and Nami to know because you’d both slipped up with calling each other husband and wife without thinking about it in front of them.

"And you're just waiting for your parents to say something?"

You nod again at Sanji's question. "It's weird, I know but…I just can't go back there. My older brother told me never to go back, or I'd definitely be forced into that marriage."

"Your parents suck." Luffy nodded, still eating his breakfast when you look over at him with a smile. "But we'll keep you safe! We'll fight anyone that tries to take you from us!"

"No one's forcing you back home," Zoro doesn't look at you, instead moving to leave and start his training for the day despite not having breakfast yet, "I'll make sure of that."

There's something in the way he says it, as you thank everyone, that makes Sanji lean back in his seat and watch Zoro leave. Even with you both stating you were not in love and were going to annul the marriage as soon as you heard from your parents, Sanji swears there's something weird about the way Zoro treats you.

It might just be friendship, but it feels like something more that neither of you are saying. You absolutely could be hiding real feelings for each other, he knows that, the way you two speak to each other and work together seems to say so, but until either of you say anything, Sanji isn't willing to believe this is anything more than a sham marriage.

There's something else, he's noticed in his short time with you all, in the way you look at Zoro, the way you speak to him as well. Zoro's a tough guy, but you speak so gently and kindly to him, it's almost like you really are his wife and want to stay that way. Maybe it's just your dynamic since you two have known each other much longer than the other Straw Hats, but Sanji isn't convinced. You and Usopp break him out of his train of thought by asking for breakfast, which he proceeds to provide you both with a grin, deciding he'll have to ask you another time if you have feelings for the moss head swordsman. If your heart's already taken, he'll gladly leave you be, despite his rivalry with Zoro.

[comatosebunny09]

Astarion’s the ex-boyfriend who reluctantly let you go because he felt like he wasn’t good enough.

He’s the ex who took some time away to mature before he could face you and your companions again.

It was nothing you did—Gods, you were perfect. He just wasn’t ready for what a genuine relationship entailed. For what it cost.

When Withers reunites you, you secretly hope to mend things—and, secretly, so do your friends.

Your conversation is seamless as if you hadn’t spent all these months avoiding one another like a sickness.

He smiles more. Your laughter’s lighter now. He’s no less beautiful than he was six months ago. His touch still makes your skin prickle with static electricity despite its harmlessness. Still makes your heart stutter, and those dragonflies stir in your belly, and you’re a nervous little wreck, aren’t you?

You part ways with see you laters as opposed to goodbyes because the latter would imply you’re done for good. But fate has a tricky way of meddling with your lives and bringing you back together like driftwood returned to the shoreline.

Eventually, you become acquaintances, running into each other by happenstance throughout Baldur’s Gate.

Bumping hands whilst reaching for a book in the library. Encountering each other at the night market, exchanging familiar smiles and nods—Gods, darling, you’re still as terrible at scoping out a good deal as ever, he jests with that customary waggle of his hand.

Then, you become friends again. Close friends. And eventually, he becomes a constant in your life once more, showing up to your home each night with the promise of wine and juicy gossip—it’s all just a ruse to see you.

Though your breaths hitch in tandem each night you find him seated close to you on your settee—your thighs brush together, your pinkies graze, and his lips “accidentally” touch your cheek—you don’t want to ruin things. Don’t want to dredge up those old feelings. Fester those old wounds because, of course, you still pine for one another.

But you don’t want to muck up your rekindled friendship by once again rushing into something he may still not be ready for.

So you settle for breaking your own heart each night, smiling like a drunken, enamored fool while he rests his head in your lap. And you twirl his pretty little curls about your fingers, watching his lashes flutter, and his cheeks redden with your blood—you still offer it to him from time to time. That’s what friends do, right?

And though your lips twitch with a question, with that urge to ask what happened to us—with a need to lean down and kiss him—you stomp down those impulses.

You’re content with sitting with him like this, watching a smile round his lips and his chest quake with a fond chuckle because maybe he’s still as much taken by you as you’ve always been by him.

And maybe it’s just you being wishful. Maybe it’s the candlelight playing tricks on your eyes. Perhaps it’s the wine warming in your veins, making you delusional.

But you feel his hand at your nape, slowly drawing you closer. And the world around fades into a beautiful bokeh when your lips meet, and your neck hurts from the angle, and maybe your lips are a little chapped and unrehearsed after all this time, but…

Well, it’s every bit of perfect. Just like you remembered it.

[workingwhileidream]

Okay Burrow's End had me thinking some thoughts... So here are my favorite Dimension 20 moments that rotate like a rotisserie chicken in my brain (in no particular order other than the order I thought if them).

- Riz goes into the butthole of the Corn Ooze Monster (Fantasy High). The first absolutely insane shenanigans move anyone makes on D20, setting the tone the show will have forever.

- Raphaniel kills Queen Pamelia (Ravening War). I think I saw Brennan's soul leave his body briefly when he got that How Do You Want To Do This from Matt. Time was an absolute flat circle that day.

- Hank convinces Brennan to let him role savvy instead of sneak (Mentopolis). Hank is one of the most famous content creators, having him on the show was phenomenal to begin with. Then right out of the gate, he pulls this move in his first episode. And it just works. Hilarious, instantly iconic.

- Jet Dies (A Crown of Candy). When Lapin dies, it is shocking but I wasn't attached to him as a character. Lapin was a bit antagonistic and his death happens early in the season. On the other hand, Jet is instantly likeable. Emily and Siobhan are amazing as siblings, their performances this campaign are some of my favorites. I have siblings and I am very close to them, so this hit me like a ton of bricks.

- The entire epilogue of Burrow's End. "Are you pitching and Air Bud ending?" is one of the instant hall of fame quotes from this show. I started crying I was laughing so hard.

- Ylfa's bottleneck and the TPK (Neverafter). There are so many close calls for total party kills in Dimension 20 history, but this is where it finally happens and it's only 3 episodes in. I was on edge, expecting another TPK at any turn, for the rest of the campaign.

- 3 nat one initiative rolls for the battle that literally opens the season (A Starstruck Odyssey). The beginning of a new season is always full of excitement. This season was extra special, having everyone back in the dome after the pandemic and the season being based off Brennan's Mom's comics. The zoom energy is still in the air and I still think about this season opener a lot.

- Mother Timothy Goose breaks Snow White's concentration with a cantrip (Neverafter). Only Ally Beardsley could and we all damn well know it. Still didn't stop me from being so far in disbelief that all I could do is laugh.

- Hob's "You will never know another lonely day" speech to Rue (A Court of Fey and Flowers). I will still cry about this if I think about it for too long. Rue and Hob's romance is the heart of this season to me. I won't be over it ever.

- Gertrude convinces Nyruth to give the Questing Queens very powerful boons after the Queens tried to rob them only a few hours earlier (Dungeons and Drag Queens). The fact that this season exists drives a level of serotonin into my brain that is unimaginable. This is the definition of a big swing and when Bob rolls well, Brennan has no other choice than to honor it. This is one of the moments I have made a meme of. I cannot wait for season 2.

- Wuuvy shows up to the duel and she did not come to play (A Court of Fey and Flowers). Aabria has talked about how Wuuvy is one of her favorite NPCs and I feel the same. Wuuvy and Rue's relationship has such a great arc and this moment is so pivotal.

- Fabian's no good very bad day (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). An iconic moment in D20 history that was truly wild to watch live. For everything to go so fantastically bad for Fabian and Lou was unprecedented. There is a reason why people still talk about this moment to this day.

- Amathar survives being pushed off the castle (A Crown of Candy). Brennan tried to kill Lou so many times in this campaign. I really thought Brennan had gotten him with this one, my stomach sunk. But Lou pulls it out and Amathar lives once again.

- Pib plays "Smoke on the Water" (Neverafter). "I stepped out to play 'Smoke on the Water' " is also a hall of fame quote to me. This list could be all Pib moments if I'm being honest, he's my favorite Zac character. And the fact that Zac doesn't roll well makes this moment funnier to me.

- Buddy Bear gets planted with the All Blossom (Dungeons and Drag Queens). Jujubee and Brennan owe me a therapy session for this one. I sobbed. My cat is my baby and I will be ruined the day she leaves me, so I get it. I really do.

- "Eat your dice, Brennan" (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). A great bit made physically possible by Siobhan. I hope Siobhan gives him gummy dice or something like that so that Brennan can continue to eat his dice for Junior Year.

- Orange Top Hat Fairy (Neverafter). It's a horror season and the cast is doing bits about how hot a mini is the entire finale and the Adventuring Party that followed. I felt the stress and off the walls energy through the screen. The Smooth Criminal pin was the first piece of Dimension 20 merch I bought.

- Viola's epic takedown of Phoebe (Burrow's End). Watching Rashawn absolutely crush it her first time in the dome was amazing. I loved Viola from the jump, her arc was so satisfying and fun to watch. Also the idea of a tiny stoat kicking a gun just the right way to get it to fire is hilarious. No notes other than please have Rashawn come back on every season she possibly can.

- Evan Kelmp warns the Rosemont student not to duel him (Misfits and Magic). Brennan's deadpan warning matched with the reactions of the other players and Aabria really make this scene. An underrated Brennan moment for sure.

- Stacey Fakename turns out to be real (Mentopolis). This was such a good reoccurring bit, so to have Stacey be real at the end of the story was too funny. In a season of bits, tropes, and puns - this one has the most payoff to me and is definitely my favorite.

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable VIII - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst angst angst

a/n: Hey guys! Sorry I took so long to update this story. I got major writer's block for it :(( This chapter is short but I wanted to get something out to you guys. We're almost at the end though! One more part after this and then an epilogue <3 Thank you guys for all the kind words/support! I don't have a lot of free time so I'm shit at replying to your comments/asks but I promise I read them all and they make me so happy! Hope you enjoy!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part VIII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You stumbled backwards, away from the evil sorcerer who was hovering above the lake. You frantically looked at Cedric. “Please, Cedric, what is this?”

He didn’t even look your way. You kept stumbling back until you knocked into the hard chest of one of the guards. He grabbed you by the upper arms, locking you in place despite your attempts to wiggle free.

“I brought you the girl,” Cedric said to Koschei. “Now it’s time to uphold your part of the deal.”

You twisted to look up at the guard. “Deal? What deal is he talking about?”

But the guard ignored you too. 

Koschei waved a dismissive hand at Cedric, his eyes still lingering on you as if you were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "Yes, yes. You will have my support to overthrow your father."

"I need more than just your word," Cedric grumbled. "I'm not handing over the girl until you make a bargain with me." 

Koschei laughed under his breath. "You wish to make a bargain with me?" 

While the sorcerer's attention was elsewhere, you realized this might be your one and only chance to break free. 

You threw your cuffed arms up around the head of the guard holding you in place and bucked forward as hard as you could, effectively tossing him over you and onto the muddy ground. A move Azriel had taught you once. 

You ignored the shouts and yells as you darted off towards the wooded area that surrounded the lake. You couldn't winnow away, not while the faebane handcuffs were still on you. But maybe you could run and hide, buying yourself some time to think of an actual plan to escape. 

You darted into the trees, forcing yourself to run as fast as you could. The air was cold, making it hard to breathe but you pushed yourself forward. You could hear the pounding of feet running behind you. You chanced a glance over your shoulder to see the three guards chasing you but no Cedric or Koschei. 

One of the guards winnowed into the clearing in front of you, causing you to scream as you ran straight into him, knocking both of you on the ground. You rolled off him before he could grab you and winnow you away, pushing yourself to your feet. The guard snarled, getting off the ground faster than you considering his hands were free. 

"Don't you run," he growled at you. 

You took a step back. Another.

Rhysand! Help!

You screamed and screamed for your brother in your head, even though you knew he wouldn't be able to hear you from this distance. You were fucked. 

"My brother will come for you if you don't let me go," you hissed at the guards, keeping out of their reach. They were circling you like they were predators who had just found dinner. 

One of the guards scoffed. "With Koschei on our side, your brother won't be able to do anything to us."

"Koschei is offering his support to Cedric to kill the King," you shouted back. "Not to help Vallahan fight against the Night Court and its allies once my brother has realized what you've done!" 

That seemed to make the guards pause for a second, the three of them exchanging glances as if now just realizing how stupid the Prince's plan was. Mor knew you were going to visit Cedric. That's where they'd look for you first once they didn't hear from you. And you knew your brother would rain hellfire down on the Prince's territory to get you back. 

Suddenly a loud noise cracked in the air like two boulders smashing against each other, causing the ground to rumble. You fell, your legs collapsing, as three people winnowed into the clearing. You let out a cry of relief. Your brother stood in his fighting leathers, looking ready to murder with Cassian by his side. But it was Azriel who made you falter.

You had never seen him look as angry as he did now—it almost spiked fear in you despite knowing none of it was directed in your way. He looked feral, unhinged. 

The three guards around you were misted by your brother before you could even blink. Their blood rained down on you, still slightly warm. You gagged, rolling over and trying to push yourself to your feet.

“Y/N!”

You heard your brother shout but his warning came too late. 

You felt someone grab you by your hair, lifting you off the floor. You let out a cry of pain, your cuffed hands rising to grab the attacker by their wrist to get some of the pressure off your scalp. You were turned forward to face your brother and the two Illyrians just as the cold metal of a dagger was placed against your throat.

“Don’t move,” Cedric ordered and you realized it was him who had you in his grasp. 

“Get your hands off of her,” Azriel growled. It was dark and full of primal rage. You knew Cedric felt it by the way his body shuddered in response but he held his ground. 

“I don’t think so, shadowsinger,” Cedric hissed.

Azriel’s shadows poised around him like venomous snakes ready to attack. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your nerves on fire. But still, the pain of seeing Azriel fought its way through despite the dire circumstances. The image of him and Elain together was enough to almost fold you into Cedric’s embrace. 

Perhaps death would be a mercy compared to the anguish building in your chest. 

You focused on your brother instead. His violet eyes were hardened with rage, his entire body tense. “Let my sister go, you bastard, and I’ll consider making your death swift and painless.”

Cedric chuckled, his hand in your hair tightening causing you to whimper at the sharp pain. Azriel took a step forward at the noise but came to a halt, his eyes drifting to the area above your head. 

You felt it then, that dark presence. The foreboding. You knew Koshcei was in the clearing now. Could feel his horrid magic in the air. This was a powerful death god sorcerer and despite your brother being the most powerful High Lord, he was no match with a God. None of them would be. 

“Kill them,” Cedric demanded as he too realized Koschei was here.

But the death god did no such thing. Instead, you felt his darkness wrap around you, encompassing you into its hold. You let out a cry of fear, calling out for your brother. 

“The girl belongs to me now,” Koschei said. “Leave and never return or I will do more than just keep her as a little pet.”

“Why do you want her?” Rhysand switched into his diplomatic role, realizing a fight would not be won here today. “Whatever you need her for, I’m certain I can do it all the same. Better, even.” 

He was…He was offering himself over to the sorcerer in place of you?

“No, Rhys,” you cried out. “Just go!”

But you were ignored. 

“Unfortunately,” Koschei drawled. “I do not have a taste for males otherwise I would take you up on your offer. But your sister will do just fine. There is nothing you can give me for her. I don’t think you even realized what a prize she was—what sort of power she holds.” 

“Anything,” Rhys begged. “Please, I will give you anything. You want my armies, you can have them. You want my court, take it! Just give her back. Please.”  

You couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth. Rhys would never give up his power, would never give away his court and his people. But here he was, offering up all he had for you. You had caused this. You had made the mistake of running away to Cedric. This was all your fault.

“Get him out of here!” you shouted to Cassian and Azriel. 

All you could think about was your brother’s lovesick bargain with Feyre, of his death leading to hers, of Nyx left with no parents. No…Rhys needed to get out of here before things got worse. You tried to convey your thoughts to the other two Illyrians with a single look. Cassian gave you a dip of the head in understanding, evidently having the same thoughts.

Azriel wouldn’t look at you, his rage filled eyes focused on the sorcerer that held you. 

“Anything,” Rhys pleaded again, surging forward. But Cassian gripped him by the shoulders, holding him back. “I’ll give you anything.”

Your eyes darted between the three of them. At Cassian’s look of despair and uncertainty, Rhy’s pleading face and Azriel….Azriel who was shrouded in his shadows, who circled him in a frenzy—his eyes darkened, his lips twisted in a snarl. He took another step forward. 

“Let her go,” he growled. You swore the birds in the clearing took off fluttering, as if they knew the sort of darkness that was coming. But Koschei let out a small noise of understanding before he chuckled—an awful noise. 

“What an interesting turn of events,” Koschei purred, his grip on you tightening. 

“Kill them,” Cedric hissed, slight panic in his eyes. If Koschei left him behind, you knew your brother would tear him to pieces. 

Koschei chuckled again, as if realizing the same thing. In the end, he would get what he wanted without having to follow through on his half of the bargain, not if Cedric was dead. 

“Say goodbye to your brother,” Koschei laughed in your ear. “And your lover and friend. You’ll never see them again.” 

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” you cried. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

Rhys fell to his knees, Cassian still holding him back with his lips pressed in a thin line. You felt Koschei’s shadows wrapping you up, spreading up your legs. Time was running out. Azriel stepped closer with another growl.

“I will kill you for this,” he promised, his eyes shifting from Cedric to the sorcerer. “Let her go!”

Your voice caught in your throat. All the words you wished to say to him with it. You loved him, still, even after knowing these past few months had all been a lie. Your heart was broken, stomped on, discarded by the only one you had ever given it to—but you loved him. You always would. 

He finally looked at you, his hazel eyes so full of rage but you saw it then, the fear. 

“Take me,” Azriel shouted. “Take me instead!”

Koschei laughed again. “Oh, but it is much more fun this way, shadowsinger.” 

His shadows spread over your torso, up your neck, nearly choking you. Tears ran down your face; you were gasping for air. You took one more look at Azriel. One more look at the male you loved with all your heart. One last look because you knew you’d never see him again.

Azriel met your gaze—fear and anguish written all over his face. And just as the shadows began to darken your vision, something snapped into place. Something gold and bright. A thread that extended from your chest and speared right into the shadowsinger. A mating bond. 

Azriel’s grip his chest, his eyes wide, as he stumbled back a step. You watched him realize it at the same time as you. Something burned on your hip and you realized you were feeling Azriel’s bargain tattoo dissipating. He screamed your name as Koschei laughed one more time, swallowing you in his shadows.

Azriel’s pained roar shook the trees of the forest around them and echoed all the way to the small cabin on the lake, where you were thrown to the hard flooring, still shackled and trembling. 

Koschei stood over you, his face a painted picture of glee and lust. He tsked, circling around your weeping form. Your thoughts were filled with Azriel. With your mate. You could feel his horror, his rage, his anguish, all through the bond. 

“Did you know,” Koschei purred, “that Cedric and his family are quite exceptional at illusions? The magic runs in their family.”

You were crying, panting—barely able to hear his words. 

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Koschei laughed. “Those images of you walking in on your mate with that little fawn were never real, my dear. You fell for Cedric’s tricks and now you’re here. You’ll never see your mate again.”

Those images of you walking in on your mate with that little fawn were never real, my dear.

You hunched over, falling limp against the floor as sobs racked your body. You had lost everything, everything, tricked by that stupid Prince. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything except the crushing weight of your despair.

 And all you could hear were those final words. 

Over and over and over again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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[autistichalsin]

Halsin and abandonment issues

One thing I've come to conclude about Halsin's character, based on many parts of his story and some lines he says, is that he might have abandonment issues.

To begin with: he lost his entire family over the years to accidents and disease, per his writer. That's the kind of thing that leaves deep scars- watching everyone you love fade away over years, until at a "comparatively young age" you're the last of your family and turned over to the Druids to be taken care of. (His writer didn't specify an age, but if he was young enough to be "turned over to the Druids" instead of "finding his way there" then it is likely he was not an adult.) There's no time to lose your family that isn't absolutely horrible, but as a young person is far, far worse.

Then there's Halsin's other traumas, all of which involve isolation; he was a prisoner for three years in the Underdark, and despite this, no one thought to come looking for him to save him. He lost most of his fellow Druids in the battle against Ketheric Thorm and the Shadow Curse that followed- and what few didn't die, he still lost their friendship to his leadership position, the "weight of responsibility". His one lasting friend in all of this, Thaniel, was lost to the curse and Halsin spent over 100 years blaming himself, fighting to be the best leader he could at the Grove, and having no one at all he could lean on for any of his burdens. And then he wound up kidnapped again, this time by the goblins, and when he returns, almost all his Druids have been turned against him, some even holding him in contempt. All experiences that are isolating in nature and reinforce to him that he can't rely on anyone else, that he is the only person he can depend on, and that in the end, everyone he cares for is going to leave or die.

It's not just speculation that he feels that way, either. He has several lines about his survivor guilt and isolation:

"[...] there is a burden to being the survivor... the witness to others' tragedies. It only grows heavier with time."

"[...] Grim as it is now, it was worse on the day of the battle. A vivid wound upon my memory. I was lucky - I lived, when so many did not. It would take me a day and a night to recite the names of all the friends I lost."

And lines that indicate he's used to being left, too.

If the player rejects him after he wildshapes (emphasis mine):

"Ah, I see. Well, of course. Back to camp then."

Saying "of course" implies it's not entirely unexpected.

After the final battle, if the player declines to have a celebration and says the party should split up:

"It was always destined to be so, if we prevailed. But the foreknowledge makes it no less bittersweet..."

He was expecting the party not to stick together.

Similarly, if a love-interest player breaks up with him in the ending:

"I see... After all my years of living, I know all too well that nothing lasts forever. Yet a parting can sting, nonetheless. But that just means what we shared was precious, and will live on in my memory. Thank you - I am a richer man for having met you."

The "nothing lasts forever" really sells it, to me, especially because the context makes it clear that he isn't just making a general statement- he's talking about relationships and people. Again- he was expecting it all to end.

His worry in the epilogue, when a solo-romanced player comes to the party with him, hints at this even more: "You could have done anything, gone with anyone... yet you chose me."

He's surprised that the player, even if they're in love, would want to live with him and share his dream. He can't believe they really wanted that- he even says that he keeps expecting to "stir from the dream".

I feel like that shows a lot about how Halsin feels after all the loss he's endured- he doesn't ultimately believe anyone is going to stay with him, whether because they choose to leave him, or because they'll die.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 33 The Epilogue | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Some things never seem to change for Bradley. But maybe he worked at keeping them the same. Baseball, Everett and you.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Seventeen and a half years later...

"Happy birthday, Coach," you whispered, slowly coaxing Bradley awake. He could feel your warm breath on his cheek and the weight of your hand resting on his chest. 

"Mmm, Kitten," he rasped, placing his bigger hand on top of yours as he cracked his eyes open. And there you were, fresh from sleep yourself, and so beautiful with the early morning sunlight catching on the angles of your face. "It's Sunday. Why won't you let me sleep in?"

"Because it's your birthday. And we get to see Ev."

Bradley stretched and rolled over so you were pinned deliciously underneath him. "We won't get to see Ev until later this afternoon. He's going to have a very busy day."

"I'm not so sure about that," you said with a smirk as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Bradley knew he was going gray, but you claimed you liked it, including the few stray strands that found their way into his mustache. 

"You sound like you've got something up your sleeve. Wait, Molly's not coming over to break the stove again, is she?"

You started laughing as you wrapped your legs around his. "Not that I know of. But anything's possible with her."

"Poor Bob," he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "And the kids, too. She's an absolute menace." 

Bradley pulled up your shirt and kissed his way along your breasts. If he was lucky, he'd get round one of birthday sex now and round two tonight after the game.

"Wait," he whined as you tugged your shirt back down. "What are you doing? It's my birthday."

"Yes," you agreed, kissing him once and then slipping right out of bed. "And I've been told I need to keep you on a very strict schedule. So come on. Get up."

"A strict schedule?" he mumbled. "Baby, I'm retired. My schedule revolves around making you breakfast, packing your lunch, coaching tee ball, and watching every single Phillies game."

"Well, I'll be making your breakfast today. And you can eat nachos or a hot dog for lunch even though you should be watching your sodium intake. And we will definitely catch the Phillies game," you said, reaching out to take his hand. 

With one more groan, he let you lead him downstairs where you told him to sit at the kitchen counter. He passed his display case on the way and paused to look at his first Coach of the Year trophy and the baseball covered in little faded hearts that he used to propose to you. He smiled at the collection of other baseballs, including the one from the first time his son pitched a no hitter. 

"Seriously, Bradley. We have a schedule to keep."

A few minutes later he had his World's Greatest Dad mug full of coffee in front of him. You kept checking the time as you pulled eggs and vegetables out of the refrigerator. Once 8:00 hit, you grabbed his phone from where it sat on the counter and entered his passcode as he sipped his coffee.

"Read this," you said, voice full of excitement. 

"What is it?" he asked as you thrust the phone into his hands. It looked like he was going to have absolutely no say over what went on today, so he was just going to go with the flow.

"An article. In the Philadelphia Inquirer. It just got released two minutes ago."

"Okay," he muttered, setting down his coffee and as he started to read.

WILL SEASON FOUR BE AS LUCKY AS ONE, TWO, AND THREE?

by Harrison Boyd

June 27, 2039

From his draft day nearly four years ago to now, Everett Bradshaw has been turning heads. We had collectively wondered as baseball fans from the City of Brotherly Love if we would ever have a truly elite pitcher again after Ronson's career ending injury. But as soon as the franchise acquired Bradshaw, we were allowed to stop wondering. We have reached elite status once again. And Bradshaw shows no signs of stopping. 

When I asked the freshly twenty five year old ace about the secret to his success, the first thing out of his mouth was, "My dad."

Bradley rubbed his eyes with his fingers and took a deep breath against the swell of emotions rising in his chest. "Kitten, what is this?"

You just shrugged as you cut up a green pepper for an omelette. "A feature article on Ev. Keep reading."

Bradley took a deep breath and picked up where he left off.

So I asked him, "Was your dad the one at your games who was cheering the loudest? The one who kept you motivated since you were a kid?"

"Not exactly," Bradshaw replied with a smile. "He was my very first coach. He actually still coaches tee ball in San Diego. He wins Coach of the Year so frequently, I think we've all lost count of how many of those little trophies he has at home. But anyway, I met my dad on the very first day I ever played ball. The very first time I swung a bat with instruction was from him. And he's the one who taught me how to pitch. His slider is still really hard to hit."

"You met your dad through tee ball? Through baseball? That's fascinating."

"Yes. I begged my mom to let me play. I was already obsessed with the Phillies by the time I was six. My mom took me to see them clobber the Padres at Petco Park, and I just thought they were the coolest team. So when she let me play tee ball, and I met my coach and learned he also loved the Phillies, I just wanted to spend as much time with him as I could. Turns out, they also wanted to spend time with each other. They got married a few months later. And then my dad adopted me."

While his birth name wasn't Bradshaw, Everett said he never had a close relationship with his biological father. "Really, he's not even worth mentioning. The only one I've ever considered to be my dad is Bradley. I can barely remember a time before he was taking me to the park to hit balls and teaching me how to keep stats. We did my homework together and collected baseball cards. He helped me apply to colleges. The video of him losing his mind when the Phillies drafted me went viral. My mom and my aunt and uncle are awesome, too. But my dad has always understood me in a way probably nobody else ever will."

During his four years at Vanderbilt, Everett earned a reputation as a fun loving, team oriented pitcher. But his stats were enough to catch the eye of every major league team. He pitched a no hitter against Stanford when he was nineteen, and he hit his first grand slam when he was twenty. And he's only cleaned up his form since then. For anyone not keeping track at home, Bradshaw already owns an incredible record in the MLB: he is the only player to pitch a no hitter as well as hit at least one grand slam for every year they played in the pros. His batting averages are practically unheard of for a pitcher. 

It's no wonder he was heavily scouted. And he assures us that his dad was there with him every step of the way. "I didn't know anything about contracts. I just wanted to pitch. But I spent a lot of time talking things through with my dad before I made any decisions. And now everyone is making a huge fuss about my new 440 million dollar ten year extension with the Phils, but to be honest, I still just want to pitch as many games as I can."

The 'huge fuss' is being made, because Bradshaw is now the highest paid pitcher in league history. The Phillies went all in on him, however Bradshaw did adjust his deal to assure that the team would be able to keep top catcher Sanchez as well. "If Miguel Sanchez isn't catching for me and the other guys in the rotation, then that's a big problem. The team needed to retain him as well. And to be honest, Harrison, nobody needs 440 million dollars."

Bradley set his phone down, rubbed his eyes, and said, "I still can't believe our son is the highest paid pitcher ever."

"I can," you replied, adding cheese to the omelette. "He's incredible. Keep reading."

When I asked him what he plans to do with 44 million dollars per year, he kind of shied away from the answer at first. "Well my girlfriend runs a nonprofit organization back in San Diego. She helps fund underprivileged children and schools. So a lot of my income goes back to kids in the city where I grew up and beyond. But I've also been working on a bit of a project myself."

When I asked him for more details, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and took a few beats to answer. "We talked a lot about my dad and what he means to me personally, and how he has impacted my career. But I also think it's important to remember that I'm just one guy. I'm just one kid who went through tee ball and little league. There are thousands of kids across the country who benefit from those types of athletic programs every year. And some of them, just like me, really need the positive influence that the coaches bring. So my dad doesn't even know about this yet, but I'm starting the Bradley Bradshaw Foundation, which will help fund a handful of youth tee ball programs every year. This is something I've been thinking about for a long time. The coaches bring the love and dedication; they shouldn't have to worry about equipment costs and field rental fees."

Bradley dropped his phone onto the counter and tried to wipe his eyes as he sobbed. "I can't even finish reading it."

You slid his birthday breakfast onto a plate and set it in front of him. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him cry against your shoulder. 

"Why is he doing this?" Bradley asked you. "He knows how fucking emotional I get, Kitten."

You kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Yes, you're always very soft for us. But you're also soft and sweet for all the kids you've coached. Keep reading."

So he pushed his breakfast aside and picked up his phone once again. And once he blinked away most of his tears he read the last part.

When pressed about how he thinks his stats will pan out by the end of his fourth season, Everett 'Grand Slam' Bradshaw laughed and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just trying for consistency. I'm trying to be a good teammate. I'm trying to make the best of every game I get to start. I'm trying to spend as much time with my family as I can. But if you really have a specific question about my stats, you should call my dad. He probably knows better than I do."

Bradley stood up from the kitchen counter and walked away from you. "I need a minute," he said, raking his hands through his hair. The love Bradley felt for his son was just simply part of him. He never took the time to try to pinpoint it exactly, because it was just built into him at this point. But he supposed it really was quite simple to reach back in his mind and pull out the moments when he started to fall in love with you and Everett. And it really was just because of the Tiny Eagles tee ball team. 

If he hadn't agreed to help Bob coach that first season, his life would be fundamentally incorrect right now. He didn't even like thinking about it. But it was because of his love for Everett, and you, and baseball that he stuck with coaching. He'd spent time with countless six and seven year olds over the last eighteen years. He'd missed some practices and games for deployments here and there, sure. But giving a little bit of his time and attention to a roster of kids each spring ended up changing his life. Because while his family owned his heart, Bradley found he had quite a lot of patience and love to share with more kids. 

"Bradley?" you asked softly, standing next to his untouched breakfast. "We can go see Ev when you're ready."

"I'm ready."

Bradley took a quick shower and put on his favorite jeans and his Phillies jersey with Bradshaw and the number 1 on the back. You were dressed similarly in your own Everett Bradshaw jersey; it had taken until your son was playing for the team for you to have what Bradley considered an adequate amount of Phillies clothing in your drawers. Once Bradley added his backwards hat, he was ready to go.

You took his hand and led him out to the new Bronco, and Bradley handed you the keys. He still felt like he was on the verge of tears again. "I need you to drive."

"Okay, Coach."

When you turned onto the Private Parking Only ramp at Petco Park, Bradley chuckled. "I still can't believe Ev is playing the Padres in San Diego on my birthday."

"You screamed like a small child when the schedule came out," you reminded him as you parked near the players entrance where the three of you had entered on your ballpark tour eighteen years ago. 

"Yeah, I know, but we hardly ever get to see Ev during the season unless we fly to Philly." He was already climbing out before you turned the engine off, and then he took your hand as you laughed. "Shit, Kitten... it's 10:00. The game doesn't start until 1:00. Are the gates even open?"

"We can get in," you assured him, and you pulled a lanyard out of your pocket with VIP printed all over it. 

"How did we get that?" he asked, leaning down to kiss you as you approached the gate together. "Ev usually just sends us box tickets."

But before you had a chance to answer, the security guard looked at the VIP pass and asked, "Which player are you here to see?"

"Everett Bradshaw?" you replied. "He plays for the Phillies."

The guard's face lit up and he said, "He just autographed a ball for my kids about ten minutes ago! Nicest guy."

"He's our son," Bradley said with pride in his voice, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter. 

"Come on in," the guard said with a bright smile, unlocking the gate and sliding it open. "You can wait in the VIP lounge right up this ramp to the right. Scan the pass to unlock the door. I'll call down to the locker rooms and let him know you're here."

"Thanks," Bradley replied, and you led the way up the ramp. "Baby, I'm still a little confused about why we're here so early."

"You'll see in a minute," you replied, scanning the badge. Bradley pulled the door open when it unlocked, and he followed you into the lounge full of plush seats, TV screens, and refreshments. And at the far end, perched on the edge of one of the long tables, was Everett. He was smiling as he tucked his phone in his jeans pocket, and Bradley thought he looked impossibly taller and stronger than he had two months ago when they visited him in Philadelphia.

Bradley's eyes filled with tears as he started closing the distance to his son. "Happy birthday, Dad," Everett said with a laugh in his deep voice, but Bradley was already wrapping him up in a tight hug. He just wanted to hold all six foot two inches and two hundred and twenty pounds of his son, and Everett let him. 

Bradley had to fight the onslaught of tears as the familiar feel of Ev hugging him back filled his senses, and the words from the article he read earlier flooded his mind. When he finally released him, he patted him on the shoulder. "You look good, Kiddo. Did you eat enough for breakfast? Are you still starting today?"

Ev smiled at him and nodded, "Yeah, I'm feeling good, Dad. I could probably use some of your pancakes though."

"Well why didn't you say something? I could have brought some with us. Kitten, why didn't you say something?" he asked you as you walked over to join them.

As Everett gave you an enormous hug as well, he said, "I'm thinking about sleeping over at the house with you guys tonight, since I'm not starting tomorrow. You can make me about a dozen pancakes tomorrow morning. Hi, mom."

You kissed his cheek and adjusted his backward Phillies cap. "I like your hair this way. You look so handsome, Ev.

"Of course he does," Bradley agreed. "He looks like you." And then he was rewarded with the twin smiles that you and Everett bestowed on him at the same time. "Listen, if you're coming back to the house later, I need to stop and get groceries. You ate everything in the refrigerator and drank all my beer last time."

Everett just smiled at him. "Damn, I really do miss your pancakes."

"Ev, that's an adult word," you scolded.

"Mom. I am an adult," he scolded back playfully. But he was grinning when he turned toward Bradley. "Did mom make you read the article this morning? From the Inquirer?" 

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head. "You didn't need to do that for me, Kiddo. But thank you."

His throat was tight with unshed tears as Everett gave him another hug. "I didn't do it just for you. I did it for the other coaches and kids, too. You were just my main inspiration. You always are, dad."

"Please, Ev," he said, sucking in a deep breath as he rubbed his son's back before releasing him. "I might never stop crying."

And he was once again met with Everett's smile and yours. "You're a softie, Coach," you told him, cupping his chin in your hand and kissing him.

"Always for the two of you." Bradley kissed your fingers and then laced them with his as he looked around the room. "How much longer can you hang out with us, Ev? You need to warm up soon?"

"Pretty soon," he replied. "I'll walk you up to the box to meet Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob and the cousins, but we need to stop and take care of something first."

"Take care of what?" Bradley asked, but Ev was already heading for the door past the tables and unlocking it with his own badge. Hand in hand, the two of you followed your son down a long hallway that ended near the locker rooms at a door that said PRESS AND PLAYERS ONLY. "Are we even allowed back here?"

"Well," Everett said, stopping in front of the door, "if you remember the tour we took when I was six years old, this is where we met some of the players."

"Of course I remember," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "That was one of the best days of my life. I told your mom I loved her that day."

"He did," you confirmed for Everett.

"You two have always been sickening," Everett replied with a smile. "But yes, we're allowed in here. Actually dad, you're the man of the hour."

"Man of the hour?" he asked. "Kiddo, you're the star pitcher. It's just my fifty-fifth birthday." 

But as soon as Everett pushed the door open and Bradley stepped inside, about twenty reporters and photographers started buzzing with excitement. 

"Ev, I'm still confused," Bradley said as his son rested a hand on his shoulder. He watched you smile and head to an empty seat at the back of the room. "What's going on?"

Ev rubbed his shoulder before giving him another hug and releasing him. "Every interviewer asks me how I became successful. And my answer is always the same. It's because of you, Dad."

"Ev," Bradley choked out, his throat tight with tears once again.

"So you're in high demand, Coach. I told a few media outlets we would give an interview together. Nothing too crazy. As long as you want to."

Bradley glanced around the room, and as soon as he found you with a bright smile on your face, he said, "Okay."

So he sat down where the players sit, and Everett took the seat next to him. They had on matching jerseys and backward caps, and it didn't matter that he adopted Everett, this had always been his son. They were cut from the same cloth. They understood each other. They were a family. 

Everett cleared his throat and announced, "Hey, everyone. This is my dad and my very first coach, retired naval Captain Bradley Bradshaw. He taught me literally everything I know about baseball. Everything I know about anything, really. He showed me how to pitch sliders and curveballs at Myers Park here in San Diego. He made sure I could lose a game with the same attitude as when I won a game. He and I met the first day I ever played tee ball and the very first day he ever coached. And he's been coaching the Tiny Eagles ever since. So I guess if you want to know more about me, then he's the man to talk to."

Bradley was still wiping tears from his eyes when the first interviewer raised her hand, smiled at him, and asked, "Can you tell us how proud you are of Everett?"

He turned to look at his son and smiled. "How much time do I have?"

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

Well, that's it! The tale of Coach Bradley! I can't thank you enough to everyone who has been lovely to me as I worked on and posted this fic. I can't get enough of these three. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32 (and thanks for the banner, Mak!)

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

Still want more? Read Draft Day!

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@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

[dilemmaontwolegs]

And Carlos having to watch in Abu Dhabi as they get to publicly be together. Maybe that’s why he crashed out in FP2, she was on his mind…

This is now canon.

Can it be an epilogue?

Lady in Red {4} || CS55 & CL16

Summary: It's the final event of the season and plans are being made for winter, but first there's some mind games going on at Ferrari Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, bj, fingering, toxic behaviour WC: 2.4k One || Two || Three || Four

Charles felt your fingers slip away from his as you neared the entrance to the track. Confused, he reached for them again and looked at your reflection in the car window. Turning away from the lines of fans waiting for a glimpse of the drivers, you met his green eyes. “Sorry, force of habit,” you apologised sheepishly. 

You had confessed everything to him when he tried to kiss you at the end of the night in Vegas. Ever the gentleman, he had walked you to your room but when he leaned closer, just like you wanted him to, the words had tumbled out. He knew everything; how you had been played by Carlos and, even worse, what you had done knowing he was in a relationship.

Lacing your fingers tighter, he raised them to his lips and kissed them. “You don’t have to hide with me.”

You smiled at the truth and leaned into his side as the car came to a stop. “I know.”

It felt strange stepping out into the spotlight with all of your clothes on. You were used to the wind kissing your skin through the thin lingerie you were being paid to promote with your body, pretending you weren’t freezing cold when night fell. It was comfortable to walk hand in hand with Charles, in a fairly plain dress that you had chosen. You weren’t here for business, it was purely pleasure.

“What are your plans for the break?” you asked as he settled into his driver's room. 

He pulled his t-shirt off and traded it for the fireproof long sleeved shirt you had grabbed from the shelf. Your eyes lingered on the toned skin that disappeared beneath the shirt and he combed a hand through his hair that had messed up. “My plans or our plans?”

“I didn’t know we had plans,” you said coyly. 

He kicked off his jeans and smirked as you hid the fireproof pants behind your back. His body pressed to yours as he dominated your space, reaching around your back and catching your hands in his much larger ones. 

“Then we will have to change that, chérie. Unless you have something already planned?”

He pulled you closer and dipped his head to yours, kissing you until your body relaxed and your hands released his clothes. 

“I suppose I can clear my schedule for you,” you sighed jokingly, smiling when his lips tugged up again. 

“Don’t go out of your way,” he said sarcastically as he pulled his fireproofs up and jumped to get the tight leggings into place. “I would hate to be a nuisance.”

“Such a pest,” you noted, dropping onto his couch and tucking your legs up. You rested your chin on your knees and watched him sip from his bottle to keep hydrated. “What did you have in mind?”

“Do you like skiing?”

“Never tried. I’ll probably be terrible and complain about the cold,” you admitted with a laugh. “I hope you are a good teacher.”

“The best, chérie.” He winked your way as he pulled his racing suit on, shrugging the shoulders up so he could close the velcro collar. When he had his boots on and his balaclava in his hands, he bent down and kissed you goodbye. “I’ll see you after practice.”

“Drive safe.”

Charles had done well to avoid Carlos for most of the week. The two drivers had been on separate media panels and had barely spoken outside of team meetings or whatever silly games they were told to play by management. Those had been tense to say the least. 

There was no avoiding him however when they finished FP1 and spoke to the media. They had both finished their interviews at the same time and were heading in the same direction to hospitality.

“Did your girlfriend tell you about me? About the things we did?” Carlos goaded his teammate as they walked along. They both smiled and waved to the fans and the cameras but Carlos’ one was straining under the force of his.

“She told me everything, but we all make mistakes,” Charles replied calmly, his smile never wavering as he signed autographs for the young fans. “That’s all you are to her, a mistake.”

“We’ll see about that: once a whore, always a whore.” Carlos threw his arm over Charles’ shoulders and pulled him closer, slapping his chest patronisingly. “You’re vanilla, Chuck. Vanilla is boring once you’ve had a bit of spice. Why do you think they call me Chilli?” 

Carlos pushed away with a laugh and left the Monegasque with the words playing on his mind. Charles was still thinking about them when he met you in his driver's room. He closed the door a little too hard and you frowned at the change in him. He had been smiling in the media pit, proud of how the first practice went, but now he was sour as he started to strip his clothes off.

“Is everything okay?” you asked as you touched his back lightly, feeling his move out of your touch. “Oh, okay. I’ll leave you alone then.”

You grabbed your handbag and reached for the door but Charles stretched over you to plant his hand on the top, the press of his chest against your back. His lips brushed the shell of your ear and his other hand snaked over your hip, drifting down your abdomen. “Am I boring?”

Your head fell back to his shoulder as his fingers followed the shape of your body and slipped between your legs. “No,” you whispered as you remembered he had asked you a question. “Did Carlos say something?”

Charles' hand disappeared as he pushed away from you with a huff. “Were you seriously thinking about him?”

“I think you were,” you pointed out as you turned to face him and leaned against the door, crossing your arms. You stared at him for a moment and he looked away first, brushing a hand angrily through his hair - but the anger wasn’t aimed at you. 

“Fuck, he got in my head.”You crossed the room and caught his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over the beard he sported. “Forget about him, Charles, I’m with you. You’re good for me, healthy.”

“Vanilla,” he muttered as he twisted his face away and sighed. 

“I’m going for a walk,” you murmured as he sank into the couch. “Give you some space.”

“Wait,” he said as you opened the door. “Come back.”

“I will, soon. Promise.” You closed the door behind you before marching across the motorhome to the other driver room and pounding your fist on Carlos’ door. “Open up.”

It swung open quickly, like he had been waiting for your visit and smirked as you stepped inside. “Hermosa, you look disappointed. Does Charles leave you unsatisfied?”

“I am disappointed, Carlos,” you said as you crossed your arms but quickly unfolded then when his eyes fell to the swell of your breasts. “Do you really have nothing better to do with your time?”

“There’s one improvement I can think of, and it isn’t talking, cariña.”

Your hands turned to fists at your side as he undressed you with his eyes, his tongue rolling across his bottom lip. “Don’t talk to Charles, don’t talk to me, don’t even think about me, okay?”

Carlos shrugged nonchalantly. “Hard to do, he’s my teammate.”

“You’ll find a way, or Rebecca will find out the truth. Wouldn’t that be fun? Imagine that, Carlos, she would drop you in an instant and once again you would be all alone - because I won’t be answering your call,” you threatened coldly as you took a step closer. “I will be too busy on holiday with my boyfriend - the one I will fuck in every possible way so no one could ever call him vanilla again.”

“He’ll never be enough,” Carlos called out as you stepped towards the door. “That thrill, of knowing you might be caught, you’ll never get that with him.”

“There’s other thrills to be had,” you smirked over your shoulder. “Maybe I’ll take a page out of your book and mess with your girlfriend. I could send Rebecca that two piece you loved so much. You remember, the red one, delicate, lace. The one that had you on your knees begging to fuck me in. Yeah…I think I like this new game, it’s just so thrilling.”

“You're not wearing red today,” he muttered.

“No, I’m not being paid to support Ferrari, I’m here for Charles.”

You left him unable to articulate a response and closed the door behind you with a dark smile. Charles was where you left him, fidgeting with his rings, and his head snapped up when you walked in. 

“You went to him?” It wasn’t an accusation, merely curiosity that filled his tone and he patted the space beside him.

“I did,” you confirmed, taking the seat he offered. His hand laced with yours and he settled them on his thigh as he leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh. “I needed to clarify some things that he didn’t seem to understand.”

“I didn’t mean to push you away, or pin you to the door.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Was kind of hot though.”

Charles laughed nervously. “Yeah, it was. Would it be alright if I did that?”

You peeked up under your lashes to see him looking intently at you. You didn’t realise he felt he needed permission but your heart skipped a beat over the fact he asked. You hadn’t really had that before and your body burned in response as you shifted on the seat to straddle his hips. “Yes, Charles.”

“Not too vanilla,” he teased, but the laughter never reached his eyes.

“I don’t know why you are so hung up on that,” you tutted. “Vanilla isn’t an insult. It’s classic and timeless, and perfect for all occasions.”

“I suppose so,” he mused, half convinced.

“You know what wouldn’t be vanilla?” He shook his head and watched you sink to the floor between his legs. Your hands found the waistband of his fireproofs and dragged them down as he lifted his hips. You wet your lips at the sight of his semi that was growing harder by the second. “Letting me do this, with the door unlocked.”

His eyes widened and his lips parted but before he could think better and ask you to stop your lips sealed around his cock and the only sound that escaped was a sated sigh. “Putain, tu te sens si bien.”

You hummed at the taste of him in your mouth and you pressed your tongue against his shaft as you took him deeper. Incoherent French filled the room and you delighted in the sounds as you ignored the need to breathe. There was nothing prettier than rolling your eyes up his body to see the complete awe on his face as he watched you pleasure him, your name on his lips. Not a nickname or an endearment, your name, because you weren’t a secret to hide.

“Je vais…je vais foutre,” he moaned loudly. His hands gripped your head and he snapped his hips up, choking you with his cock as he buried himself in your throat. A thick stream of cum filled your mouth as he sagged back into the couch, his cock twitching as you milked every last drop on your tongue and swallowed it. 

You sat back on your heels pleased with yourself. He was thoroughly relaxed as he curled his fingers to draw you back up onto his lap. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, his confidence completely restored. “I’m sorry I have to get ready to go, chérie, or I would happily return the favour.”

“I can wait,” you hummed as he started to tease you with his fingers anyway. He eased one into your cunt to find it already wet and ready for him, then he added a second and pressed his thumb to your clit. “Someone might walk in,” you whispered, but it turned to a moan at the circles he drew around your clit.

“Someone might,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying the idea as much as you were. 

His fingers worked you to a frenzy and you rode your hips over them as you chased your release. He swallowed the cries of your release with a deep kiss, his tongue dominating yours and sharing the taste of his musk that coated your tongue. Lifting his fingers to his lips, he held your eyes as he licked them clean and your pussy clenched at the sight.

“That’s not vanilla,” you said as you bit your lip and climbed off. “Not vanilla at all, baby.”

He grinned at the compliment and tucked himself away before standing up too. “I’ll see you after practice.”

“Drive safe.”

Charles didn’t stop smiling that night. His practice may not have had the top time but it was still a positive indicator that he was going to have a good pace for the race and better yet Carlos had crashed out. They had passed each other in the media pit and Charles didn’t have the ability to hide his smirk as he watched his teammate saunter off with a scowl on his face.

“I don’t know what you said to him, chérie,” Charles laughed at dinner with his friends, Carlos’ table much more reserved on the other side of the restaurant. “But I haven’t seen him that quiet, ever.”

“I just reminded him of his values,” you said with a sweet smile, and you fluttered your eyelashes too. “And what will happen if he tries to fuck with us again.”

“God, winter break can’t come soon enough,” Charles said as he took your hand and kissed it before draping his arm over your shoulders. Carlos shifted in his seat, eyebrows furrowing at you before he did the same to his girlfriend. “I don’t know if I will even want to leave the chalet.”

“One ski lesson with me and that might be the wise decision.”

Charles shook his head. “You’re not getting out of it, I told you, chérie, I’m the best.”

You smirked as your hand came to rest high up his thigh under the table. “Yes, yes you are.”

[neptuneiris]

sparks (epilogue)

Yeah, I saw sparks And I saw sparks

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 9.4k

previous part • series masterlist

sorry for the delay, I had some inconveniences, but here it is finally!

unfortunately everything has an end and the time has come for this other fic of mine that i have really loved writing

i never imagined that you would like it so much, which is the same thing i say with every single thing i write and post, i know haha, but i am really surprised how much you like my ideas and how much you support me, seriously thank you

i hope that in the future we can see more of this aemond and this reader, whom i keep in my heart. i loved this idea and i am very happy that you loved it too

i love you beautiful people, see you very soon in my next fics, thanks for all the support to sparks:)

warnings: angst, language, sexual content, smut

Never before in your life have you felt so uncomfortable being in Aemond's presence.

How did we come to this?

You ask yourself, incredulous and with sadness in your chest, as you can't even look at him.

The awkwardness lingers because you both have seen each other again after almost five long months where you knew nothing about each other, also because everything between you ended badly and it's just too much now to be here together in his car… alone.

At first when Jenna got out of the car once you got to her dorm you thought about staying in the back seats, but you knew it wouldn't make any sense, neither did Aemond say anything to you but you decided not to make this even more uncomfortable.

So you got out of the car, said goodbye to her and with your shaky legs you move to the passenger seat.

You avoid looking at him at all times as you buckle up, but the shoulder-to-shoulder approach seems too much for you and the space in the car feels small even though you've been in here before.

You both watch as Jenna enters her residence building safely and once you see her disappear through the glass doors, an awkward silence envelops you both even with his music playing in the background.

Until finally your dumb brain reacts and uncomfortably you shuffle in the seat, swallow hard as your throat feels dry and you bite your lips for a second.

Aemond tries not to look at you, but does so out of the corner of his eye, as he looks straight ahead with an expectant gaze while keeping one hand on his chin and the other on the steering wheel.

Clearly he's waiting for directions, which you don't understand in the first few seconds, feeling incredibly nervous.

"It's four blocks down, then left," you point out trying not to make your voice sound nervous.

He doesn't say anything, just understands the directions and starts the car again.

You watch the window at all times, avoiding eye contact of any kind with Aemond, who is totally focused on the road and also feels the same way as you, where neither of you knows what to say.

And now you are both here, again with that silence between the two of you and that heavy tension in the air that makes you both feel uncomfortable, since not even the music helps. Neither of you speaks for as long as the drive lasts.

So it's easier for both of you to just keep quiet and wait for this to be over.

You on your side also experience a mixture of intense emotions. You want to talk to him, you really want to try, you even want to offer him your condolences for his father's death, but you can't find the right words to speak and the worry that you will make things worse keeps you silent.

Aemond on the one hand wants to break the ice and find a way to try to talk to you, but the uncertainty and fear of rejection paralyze him.

It's very difficult, he can't, he doesn't feel capable and all he feels is that sharp pain in his chest.

Not to mention the incredible nerves you feel all over your body.

As the ride continues, you watch in the distance as some lightning flashes in the night sky, catching your attention. You briefly glance out of the corner of your eye at Aemond but continue to keep your gaze firmly on the window.

Not until a few minutes later a gentle rain begins to fall, creating a sort of melancholy atmosphere, which you don't know if that makes the whole situation worse.

But there are also more words you want to say, but you just can't.

The raindrops gently tap against the windshield, Aemond turns on the windshield wipers and slows down a bit.

You realize that it's not long before you have to tell him what your building is, but you still feel that lump in your throat that prevents you from speaking, even to tell him something as simple as that.

You recognize that you were the one who broke up with him and that although it hurt you too and you also suffered, you also recognize that you caused him more pain by deciding to end it all that way, taking advantage of his situation.

But you really want to offer him your heartfelt condolences, to let him know that despite everything, you still care about him, but you feel the great tension all over your body.

What right do you have to say something like that to him after what happened?

What right do you have to be empathetic with him in that regard when what you did with him trying to find you to fix things, was that you blocked him from everywhere and just disappeared from his life as if you never existed?

And you can't imagine all that he must have gone through, all that he must have felt and all that he must have endured as well for his promotion in the company.

You know you have no right.

You know the damage you caused and the most acceptable thing would have been for you to have sought him out when it just happened, but you didn't.

You honestly don't know what these months have been like for him and in trying to find the words to be able to talk to him, you don't need to, as he talks.

More than anything Aemond asks you the first thing that comes to his mind after briefly seeing some small buildings with the name of your university below the name of the residence hall, breaking the silence.

"You live in a dorm now?"

He asks you with a certain disinterested and casual tone, which still makes you feel nervous, mostly at the thought of what you will say to him before you speak, still feeling that tension and awkwardness in the air.

"Yeah," you reply softly almost in a trembling tone as you still stare out the window, "Yeah, it wasn't hard to request it in the middle of the semester, you know… because of the scholarship."

You bite your lips, feeling really very nervous indeed even though the ice has been broken, though not really. And Aemond only hums in a nodding sound, not taking his gaze off the road and not saying anything else.

You bite your lips again, wishing he would say something back, anything, so you can talk to him, tell him what you want to tell him, but the words continue to get stuck in your throat and he says nothing more.

The ride continues for a few more long minutes until you see through the window that it is almost time to tell him which building is yours, causing you to despair.

Now or never.

You say to yourself, then begin to gather bravery and fill with courage, finally letting out a long breath and without thinking too much, you look at him again and speak.

"I'm sorry about your father," you say in a soft and compassionate voice, daring to look at him.

A complex mixture of feelings invade Aemond inside, definitely not expecting that.

He hides his astonishment, still fixing his eyes on the road, suddenly feeling a knot in his stomach, as well as feeling a warmth expand throughout his chest at your words.

He doesn't know what to say.

Much less what to do.

What would have happened if you had been with him at the time when his father left this world and he went on to become the head of all Targaryen Inc?

Even though the two of you didn't end well and now he feels that support from you towards him, however small it may be, it still made him feel grateful.

Although… he can't help but feel sad too, as inevitably his mind takes him back to remembering the good times when you and he were together.

Your words spill out all over the inside of the car, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed due to his lack of response, until he finally clears his throat as he shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat, then nods, even though he doesn't return your gaze.

Probably everything would have been a little easier.

That's why he also feels a bit angry to see once again how everything is now between the two of you, where there is no longer an 'us'.

"Thank you," he says back in a soft, emotionless voice, not daring to look at you.

And again another awkward silence sets in.

You want to ask him how he is, what he has done, how is the company, his mother, Hel, even Aegon and Daeron, you want to know what happened to his grandsire and Alys Rivers, but again… you can't speak.

At least you're thankful he didn't ignore you after you ignored him and you feel a weight off your heart, you look out the window again while biting your lower lip, still feeling that awkwardness and that tension all over the air, but strangely feeling a little relieved.

And finally that moment comes, you see your residence in the distance.

With this also coming to an end, with a resigned feeling you point to the building, again feeling on edge just from talking to him.

"It's over there," you point to him and he doesn't say anything to you, just starts to pull up to the curb to park.

You swallow hard and Aemond brings the car to a complete stop, right in front of the doors of your building, then continues to stare ahead, expectantly, waiting for the moment when you will get out of his car and probably never see you again.

With a sadness in your chest, you grab your phone and also your purse to get out, also being aware that after this, you probably won't see him again for a while. Or maybe never again, because of your new job position.

And that disappoints you, makes you feel sad and inevitably, you resist the urge to cry.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it," you tell him honestly and sincerely, placing your hand on the handle to open the door and walk out.

He just hums back with a slight nod, not watching you, his hand resting on the steering wheel and the other on his chin, his gaze straight ahead, which hurts you, that he can't even watch you. At least not at this moment.

Because he doesn't want to see you go again.

He doesn't want to have another image of you leaving, leaving him, not knowing when he will see you again or if he will even see you again.

Again you feel that sharp pain in your chest as he apart from not being able to watch you, he can not even speak to you again, just waiting for this to be over and nothing more.

Although… just as you are about to open the door to leave and enter your building, you stop.

And you understand. You understand his lack of interactivity and also his lack of words. But this is just as painful for you as it is for him.

Your shoulders slump from the tension you were feeling, suddenly feeling defeated and like you have nothing left to lose. That's why you stop all your movements and with a thoughtful and disappointed look, with your lips parted you turn to watch him.

And that's when you finally ask him the question that was always invading your mind since you broke up with him, even crying, being more of a statement than a question but now you can finally know his answer.

Aemond frowns slightly as he notices out of the corner of his eye how you stop and don't get out of his car.

He feels your gaze on him and when you don't move any further nor say anything to him, he finally looks directly into your eyes with a confused and expectant expression at the same time.

You know your question is risky, but you need to know.

"Do you hate me?"

You ask him with uncertainty in your voice, your eyes full of sadness.

"Because of how I ended things?"

A heavy silence again fills the interior of the car for a moment with your words hovering, as Aemond feels astonishment again but hides it well, also not expecting to hear those words from you, as an unfamiliar feeling settles in his chest.

He remains completely silent, thinking about your question and also what he will tell you next.

Answer with the truth or be just as cruel to you, as you were to him, even if it's not true?

The simple question in his mind makes him feel absurd and also makes him scold himself, as it doesn't make any sense.

The sound of the light rain still patters softly against the car, the lightning continues to reflect every minute, his music also plays softly in the background in that delicate moment, where you wait for an answer and he feels a whirlwind of emotions, contemplating the question with seriousness.

And finally he breaks the silence between the two of you, deciding to answer your question honestly, still focused on the road and not watching you.

"No."

His voice is clear, but with a slight sadness and his answer makes you feel more that pain in your chest and also that a new knot forms in your throat, feeling more the urge to cry, but inexplicably you feel a relief inside because of his answer.

Despite everything, he doesn't hate you.

You think with wonder and longing, for he should hate you, really. Yet he doesn't. And you don't know if that just makes everything worse.

"I-I thought…" you begin to say, trying to control your trembling voice, "I thought you had moved on and—

And after his confession, Aemond lets out another long breath, not saying or doing anything else, still expectant of what you will do, whether you will finally get off or say something else.

And you nod your head slightly as you bite the inside of your cheek, chasing away your tears.

You stop as you hear him let out an incredulous snort with an amused grin, shaking his head, averting his gaze from the road for a moment, feeling anger sweep through his body.

"Do I look like I've moved on?"

And before you can say anything else, he speaks again.

He asks you as he finally watches you with disbelief and anticipation in his gaze. And you bite your lips, further controlling the urge to cry, as Aemond turns his gaze forward, clenching his jaw in annoyance.

"You did what you thought was right and necessary at the time," he says seriously, "It wasn't what I wanted but I don't blame you because I know I made mistakes too," he acknowledges, "My father's death just made everything worse," he says finally, still with annoyance in his gaze.

And right after his words and silence again settles between the two of you, you know you have nothing more to do here.

The rain continues to fall and with your heart in a fist, you finally decide to get out of his car and take refuge in your room, where you will cry yourself to sleep. So you grab the door handle, making sure one last time that you have all your things with you.

You withdraw your tears and speak without daring to look at him.

"Thanks again for the ride."

You tell him for the last time in your soft, sad, broken voice, controlling your emotions and your sobs.

And just as you open the door and the sound of the rain becomes more audible, before one of your legs touches the ground and you get completely out of the car, this time it is Aemond's voice that stops you.

"And do you hate me?"

His question with a soft tone makes you stop immediately, making you freeze in surprise for a moment, since you did not expect that, and then slowly turn your gaze back to him, where he is already watching you with the same need to know your answer as you were watching him before.

He notices your glassy eyes, he notices your sadness and also how you are controlling your crying, he notices it all. And you also notice the sadness in his eyes, that longing that you can't really explain.

Because you also feel that same longing inside you.

"Do you hate me for not fighting hard enough for you?"

And in that moment, you both know he means everything.

For not fighting Otto Hightower, Alys Rivers and his work hard enough. For allowing everything to escalate, for not fixing it soon enough, for making you reach your breaking point and that's why you decided to break up with him.

And you… had never thought about it, about hating him. But you immediately know the answer, without hesitation.

"No."

And again Aemond feels caught in a whirlpool of emotions.

His gaze reflects slight surprise and also slight relief, but also regret. He honestly didn't expect to hear that answer from you. And his surprise is mixed with his confusion.

Even though his own grandsire interfered in the relationship and also his possible partner Alys Rivers in a completely improper way, where they both pretended you didn't exist and he didn't do enough to protect you and the relationship, he wonders in confusion: why? Why don't you hate him?

"You don't even do with knowing that I could have done more to make it all work?" he asks you softly and uncertainly, "So we could have been together?"

You focus your gaze on the rain-fogged windshield, watching the drops fall and slide down the glass, as you again feel a lump in your throat and process his words.

You bite your lips, again feeling the urge to cry.

Honestly you did had wanted him to have fought harder for you, for both of you. But you know it wasn't his fault. It was just things he couldn't control, things that weren't entirely in his hands.

You know that work is work and he really tried by putting his boundaries firm with Rivers and also by worrying all the time about you, all the time making you his priority.

But sadly it wasn't enough.

You let out a sigh and with your eyes on the rain, still feeling a mix of complex emotions, you speak in your calm and soft voice, mostly honest, but at the same time with a touch of sadness and resignation.

"No, I don't hate you," you clarify again, "It's not fair to blame you for what happened, the situation was complicated and we both made mistakes," you watch him with your teary eyes, "And I know I owe you an apology."

Aemond's gaze contracts into one more of sadness, watching you intently but with that hard look on his features where he tries not to break down, as the rain out there intensifies and you gently close the door again.

"I'm really sorry," you sigh, in a light sob, "I'm really sorry that I took advantage of your trip to give you no time at all. I never meant to hurt you like that," you tell him honestly, "I did what I thought was right. But you didn't deserve that."

Aemond feels a slight ache in his chest, with that feeling of sadness again taking over and his mind goes back to the past, to remembering that horrible day in that horrible moment, when you left him without looking back.

And he thinks of all he could have done and all he could have been.

But despite this, he feels a flash of relief to know that you don't really hate him, but he is also overcome with regret for apologizing to him, when he never felt the need or thought you owed him an apology before.

Just like you, he feels remorse, a longing, and that longing inside him that still lingers and grows bigger.

"I regret… everything," he tells you in a soft, low murmur, drawing your full attention, "I regret not trying harder, not showing you how much you meant to me…" he pauses a little, "Not stopping my grandsire sooner... and I'm really sorry, for everything I put you through."

And he tells you all this with restrained emotion, feeling completely vulnerable and sincere, wanting you to understand the depth of his feelings.

And you do, you really do.

But honestly, you can't take this anymore.

The rain is getting heavier and heavier and what you need is to release all the tears you've been holding back for a while now. And you don't want to cry in front of him, simply because you don't want to look so vulnerable and you want to get it over with, because in the end, he will go back to his own way and you will go back to yours.

And it's better for you to end it once and for all before it gets harder for you.

"You don't have to apologize," you say through your held back tears, "But if that's what you need to say, it's okay, I understand."

You try to keep calm in your voice, but there is a mixture of sadness and understanding in your tone. And even though Aemond feels a weight less on his shoulders, the sadness is persistent and he says nothing more, with silence enveloping them.

And that's when you decide it's time to leave.

"Take care of yourself, okay? And thanks again."

You don't watch him when you say it, you don't dare to watch him, to watch as you again leave him behind, as you quickly wipe the tears that have escaped from your cheeks and again place your hand on the handle to open the door, turning your back on him.

And here it comes, the ultimate goodbye.

Aemond noticing all this, with his sad, desperate, anguished and worried expression, says to himself too: now or never.

And again he stops you with his words.

"I fired my grandsire."

He says to you in a tone just as desperate as his face, almost in a needy tone, again stopping you and making your breath catch for a moment, listening to him carefully.

"As soon as I became head, I fired him," he tells you more plainly, watching you sadly and desperately, "Rhaenyra took his place and I never associated with Rivers," he says and between your parted lips in surprise, "In the end I cut all connection with her and her company. And instead I successfully partnered with Rodrik Greyjoy, who has connections to Dorne and Essos."

You turn your gaze slowly back to him, where he is already watching you, being completely honest with every word he is saying, drawing your attention and making you focus entirely on him, now knowing the answer to the questions you asked yourself in the pub when you saw him.

And… you don't know what to say.

His grandsire and Rivers, they're both just not around anymore.

And probably if Aemond had become the boss sooner, maybe you and he would still be together. And that's what hurts you the most, that Aemond couldn't act sooner until he was the boss.

And how you wish you could have been present at that moment in his life.

Aemond averts his gaze from yours for a moment, where neither of you say anything else nor do anything else, submerging you back into that silence that is eclipsed a bit by his music and also the rain outside.

And Aemond again summons up the courage to ask you what has been going through his mind since the relationship ended, all the while feeling a sadness inside, along with helplessness, frustration and jealousy, thinking the worst.

"Do you…" he pauses for a moment, feeling the bitterness in his tone that he can't help, "Do you have someone new?"

Your eyes immediately meet his, who watches you completely attentive to your answer, wanting, no, needing to know that question that has tormented him every night and day, making him feel jealous and annoyed.

And your gaze shows a mixture of emotions, from mild surprise to sadness and indecision. But not because of the question, but because of him.

How could he think you have someone new when he's been the greatest love of your life so far?

Practically Aemond has ruined every other man for you and you are still completely in love with him. But you understand his question, because of the sudden way you decided to break up with him.

And honestly, you too sometimes wondered the same thing, if he had found someone else or if he finally decided to get involved with Rivers.

"No," you answer him truthfully.

Just you.

You want to say, but the words get stuck in your throat.

And Aemond feels a huge relief course through his body, as he looks away from yours once more and nods his head slowly, running a hand over his chin.

And you can't help but ask him the same question with a certain cautious tone, just to make sure.

"Do you—

"Of course not," he tells you immediately, still with sadness in his gaze.

And that to this day still lingers, just in the same way that you are still in love with him.

It's also absurd for him for you to return the question, since finding someone new was the last thing on his mind.

And even though he moved on with his life and his work more than anything else, his mind and heart were still anchored to you in a way that he couldn't get over.

Aemond unable to contain his emotions any longer, finally tells you the words that have been stuck in his throat for a while now in a trembling voice.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, not even for a moment, since you left."

His gaze meets yours, feeling just as vulnerable as you did before, as your eyes fill with emotion, longing and surprise, beginning to feel your heart beating too hard, unable to control your heart rate.

"I came to keep Floris company because I knew you would come, that's the only reason I decided to show up, because I wanted to see you again and try to talk to you, fix what I couldn't fix before, if you would let me," he tells you honestly, then lets out a bitter laugh to himself, "How could I have anyone else when it's clear I'm still completely crazy about you?" he slowly shakes his head, "I still love you, more than you or anyone else could ever imagine."

And it is there, in his most sincere confession, that he tells you that he still loves you in his slightly trembling voice.

And you for a moment, you are silent, struggling to contain your emotions. However… inevitably tears begin to slide down your cheeks freely, uncontrollably.

Tears of happiness, excitement, surprise, but also of sadness and nostalgia simply because of the situation. And Aemond seeing your state, feels like a dagger piercing his heart, still hating to see you cry and it's worse when he knows you're crying for him.

But before he can say anything to you to stop you from crying, feeling guilty, you with your emotions running high, suddenly feeling a liberating impulse, you let yourself go.

"Oh Aemond," you sigh through your tears.

And without giving him time to anticipate anything, surprisingly in an act necessitated by that impulse so suddenly in your system, you lean fully into him and press your lips to his.

And Aemond without thinking at all, though still in surprise, wastes no time at all and kisses you back in an equally needy way, also leaning completely into you, where one of his large, firm hands takes you around the back of your neck to hold you close, kissing you deep and slow.

You gasp softly into his mouth at the sensation, then move your lips again in rhythm with him, feeling every texture of his lips, those lips you missed so much, bringing your hands around his neck, clinging completely to him.

You both almost devour each other, it being a kiss with a slight mingling of teeth and where it feels so fucking good, his lips moving in coordination with yours, deep.

And you find yourself responding to his kiss now that way, being completely addictive, enjoying his warm and consuming lips, not wanting to stop, feeling your desire increase every second for wanting to feel his closeness, also that little tingle in your between leg.

"Fuck baby," he sighs into your mouth.

Then his tongue makes its way all the way inside your mouth, unable to help it, making you gasp and feel a curious sensation in your lower abdomen as well from your nickname that you haven't heard in a while.

"I love you too," you tell him in between kisses, "So fucking much. Never stop doing so."

Aemond groans in your lips, feeling that warmth from before expanding again in his chest when he hears your words, as well as he feels a fire starting to grow inside him that makes him take you with his other free hand from his hip and forces you to sit in his lap.

His moist, warm mouth welcomes you back, taking in the slight smell of beer and cigarette which doesn't displease you at all, on the contrary, it makes you continue to more fervently caress your lips with his in a deep way in wet sounds.

It's not complicated even though you are both inside his car and the steering wheel is right behind you, being a little uncomfortable, but you don't mind.

So with the same need he has to feel you close, you make yourself comfortable and with your hand around the edge of his jaw, bring his face closer to yours to kiss him again.

This way Aemond can hold both hands on your face, keeping you exactly where he wants you, then gently caress your curves and breathe hard against your face.

"I love you so much," he murmurs against you between kisses, kissing you again, "I can't get enough of you."

You slide one of your hands down his chest, inhaling deeply to return his demanding kisses, as he continues with his hands on your hips, pressing you against him, letting you feel what is happening inside his pants.

You almost let out a whimper as you feel his rigid, hard, hot arousal beneath you, almost below your center, where your juices begin to flow.

"Did you miss me?"

He asks you in a low, husky murmur, completely aroused, then pulls his lips away from yours and begins to leave soft, wet kisses down your neck, starting a trail, making you gasp loudly and tilt your head to the side to give him more accessibility.

You bite your lower lip as his hands go all the way down and briefly caress your thighs, then squeeze and lightly caress the soft skin of your ass above your skirt, increasing your arousing desire all over your insides.

"Yes baby, all the time," you reply with a little difficulty, panting and breathing hard.

"Miss you too," he says in a hoarse murmur as he kisses your collarbone, your throat and again your neck.

Placing your hand back on one of his cheeks, you kiss him again with need, beginning to move smoothly and deeply back and forth your hips against him, his hardness slamming directly against your center, making you moan.

Aemond lets out a deep growl as he feels the friction of your movements against him, squeezing both of your ass cheeks with more fervor, not wanting you to stop.

Simply everything around you both disappears at that moment, the rain is still coming down hard and you're both too busy to worry if someone will walk by and see you like this.

"I want you, now," he murmurs against your lips, breathing and panting just as hard as you are.

And this catches your attention, causing you to stop kissing him and watch him at the eye that is fully dilated and full of lust and arousal, which you also know your eyes must be like this.

And as much as you want to calm that slight delicious ache of arousal in your nerve center since it's been too long since he was last inside you, at that moment you remember where you are and look around, barely being able to see anything through the rain-fogged glass, but still causing you hesitation.

"But..." you say with your voice and look not entirely convinced, again trying to see something through the glass, "H-here?"

"It's been so long," he tells you, again leaving wet kisses on your neck that make you shiver all over, trying to convince you.

"I know b-but… "you say still undecided, "I don't know—

"Please, baby," he looks into your eyes, "Feel what you're doing to me."

It forces you to again move your hips against it deeply, fully feeling its heavy hardness in need of attention and release, the friction sending delicious waves of arousal that also need attention.

"I want you. Right here. Right now. Don't tell me you don't want me too, I know you do."

You almost let out a little cry of surprise when unexpectedly, he sniffs under your skirt and just above your panties, you feel the huge palm of his hand cover your pussy with ease, caressing you in your entirety.

"A-ah!"

A soft whimper escapes you and you furrow your brows with the clear excitement and pleasure in your gaze, beginning to breathe harder, agitated and shaky.

"You're all soaked, baby."

He says in the midst of his excitation, delighted by the way you're dripping all over him, stroking you with his huge hand all over from front to back, making you moan loudly and start to move your hips against his hand, needing more, the friction being absolutely delicious.

And just as one of his long, slender fingers is about to pull the fabric of your panties aside to touch you directly, with a feeling of regret for the pleasure but also desperate, you stop his hand abruptly, not letting him go any further.

Aemond furrows his eyebrows in confusion amidst all his excitement, staring at you blankly, as you return your nervous, worried, agitated gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"I-I wasn't expecting this," you begin to say, even with your hand completely stopping his movements, nervously, "And it's been a while since I've shaved."

Aemond's confusion only becomes more noticeable even after hearing your words, understanding but at the same time not, as you watch him completely worried and on alert, not having the slightest idea what will happen next.

But Aemond knows what exactly will happen next, still not understanding why you said that and why you look so worried about it when he understands that you already know.

So he shakes his head briefly in your direction, still confused.

"And you think I care about that?"

His words take you completely by surprise and before you can say or do anything, his finger finally pulls the fabric aside and with his index and middle finger directly touches your dripping wet center, stroking you in slight circles making you moan and arch your back with your face contracting in complete pleasure.

Aemond can't help but smile in satisfaction at the way you react and respond, feeling you moisten his fingers more, loving your every expression and how you are like this to him.

And finally he expertly slips his fingers between your folds as if he wants to check how wet you are.

"Aemond," you moan his name, wiggling your hips against his hand again.

"Yes, baby," he praiseswith even satisfaction and desire in his gaze, "God, you are so fucking hot."

"Please," you whine, watching him with need and pleasure, "Please fuck me, fuck me with your fingers."

"Yeah? You want that?"

He watches you with tease, feeling his fingers slide all over your entrance, making you moan and sigh for him, feeling so good but not enough, as you need more.

"Aemond," you say his name in a plea.

And that smirk appears on his lips, deciding he doesn't want to tease you since he's just as desperate as you are, but this little moment is about you.

"Here you go, baby, all for you. I'm gonna take good care of my girl."

You moan prologue as he slips both fingers into your tight, hot, needy entrance, moving them inside you in a way that steals the breath from your lungs.

You arch your back as you moan and your chest is right in front of him, his eye going at that moment to your confined breasts, needing to be released and also needing to receive attention.

He doesn't need to say anything to you, as you are too busy receiving and enjoying the feel of his fingers inside you, so with his free hand he moves it up the back of your top, reaches in and with a calculated and expert movement, undoes the clip of your bra.

This doesn't totally get your attention, what does is how Aemond moves your bra out of the way and down the front of your top, exposes your breasts for him by the side of your cleavage.

"Gods," he murmurs to himself in delight to then bring his hand up, kneading your left breast all over and bringing his lips to your nipple on your right breast.

Now the feel of his lips and one of his hands on your breasts makes you moan louder as you continue to feel him move his fingers inside you just the way you need and exactly how you like.

Just as he knows exactly how you like it when he licks and kisses your nipples with need, grunting in the middle of his licks, watching your face at all times, not wanting to miss every expression on your face.

"Yes, just like that, p-please," you whimper, arching your back more and bringing one of your hands to his hair to push his face more against your breasts.

But you lose it completely when he twists and arches his fingers inside you with purpose, stroking and searching until he finds the spot that draws a gasp from you.

"There we go," he murmurs, watching you, "Fuck, you're so warm, baby, "he groans, "You're going to feel so fucking good around my cock."

His words send more delicious waves of pleasure to your center that he continues to caress and soothe, as he watches his fingers disappear inside you again and again, continuously, to return his attention to your breasts.

Each caress of his fingers, hand and lips make you melt completely on top of him, still panting and feeling dizzy and lightheaded, having no coherent thought because of the sensations.

And yet, it's not enough, you need more, need more of him, desperately.

"So fucking good," you murmur in sighs, your breath coming in ragged gasps, "Please, baby, don't stop."

Aemond groans

"I can feel you squeezing my fingers, baby," he says, stroking your soft spot, "Are you going to cum?"

"Y-yes," you say in a faint murmur, contracting your face into one of pleasure and need, moving your hips faster against his hand, "Oh fuuuck."

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs, beginning again to leave wet kisses down your face and neck, "I can't believe you're mine… and how perfect you are," he says over the softness of your breasts, husky, "Fuck."

"Aem-mond," you say in a desperate tone, still swaying your hips and about to reach your high point.

He feels you clench tighter all around your fingers and before you can finally feel your orgasm hit you, he stops his movements and removes his fingers from inside you.

You whimper with confusion and discomfort more than evident on your face, watching him instantly, breathing hard and fast, with the slight sweat on your forehead, about to reproach, but Aemond speaks quickly.

"On my cock," he clarifies to you, taking his hands off you for a moment, bringing them to his belt to remove it and also unbuckle his pants, "I want you to cum all over my cock."

As he begins to remove his belt with a little difficulty, he is totally focused on that, but as he unbuckles his pants and is about to release his hardened member, he turns his eye to your face and sees even the discomfort and frustration on your face from the denied orgasm.

"Oh baby, don't look at me like that," he tells you with the smirk in his gaze, leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your cheek, "Don't worry, I'll give you exactly what you want. Be a good girl for me and be patient."

This inevitably brings waves of pleasure to your aroused yet aching center for not cumming, so you squeeze your thighs together in a vain attempt to find relief.

And finally Aemond releases his big, hard, hot cock from his underwear, watching you all the while with pleasure and completely ravenous.

His long, slender fingers wrap around the base, then stroke himself with deep, long strokes, grunting lowly each time his thumb brushes over his sensitive, red tip.

At the scene of him stroking himself with your lust-filled eyes, you can't help but moisten your lips with the tip of your tongue, needing him inside your mouth or inside you, either is fine with you.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he says, bringing one of his hands to your thigh, "Let me see that pretty pussy."

Even though it's been a while, you still shamelessly try to spread your legs as wide as you can, letting him see your wet pussy dripping with your juices, glistening slightly and fully engorged, needing him.

"Fuck," he growls, "All this for me?"

He brings his hand to your center again and with his thumb strokes gently but with just enough pressure your sensitive bud, making you moan and arch your back from feeling it more intensely.

Aemond bites his lower lip as he watches your pussy contract from his caresses, then he moves his eye up to your face and at the end he focuses totally on your slightly sweaty body, your perfect breasts with both hard nipples making his cock throb in a painful but delicious way at the same time.

"I want to ride you," you say in the middle of your expression of pleasure, panting.

Aemond smiles and pulls his hand away from your needy pussy before he goes any further and places them both on either side of your body, watching you expectantly.

"Go ahead, baby. I'm all yours."

This only heightens your arousal more and the idea of riding him rough is too delicious and makes you feel yourself getting wetter.

You wrap his heavy cock in your hand, breathing through your mouth, then rise up on his lap and direct his tip to your needy, dripping pussy.

You slowly lower down and feel him open you all the way, making you moan his name too loudly.

"Oh my god, Ae-mond" you whined, closing your eyes in complete delight.

"Oh fuck," Aemond groans, "Fuck, baby."

You both curse as it feels so fucking good.

You slowly descend, moaning throughout, feeling yourself open wider for him, causing Aemond to groan and curse louder as he feels you squeeze him in such an exaggeratedly good way that it almost makes him cum.

Even with more of his long, thick cock left to enter your pussy, he grabs your hips with both burning hands and pushes you down to finish sinking all of him inside you, where you both moan and grunt deliciously.

"That's so fucking good," you praise, completely drunk with pleasure and how he fills you completely.

Only he fills you this way, being exactly what you need. And you've missed it.

He gives you time for your body to adjust to his size after so long, while this time with both hands he caresses your breasts, giving attention with his tongue to your hard buds, making you moan as it feels too much, though not enough.

"You like it that much, hm?"

He teases you and then runs his tongue right across your right bud, lightly grazing it with his teeth, making you gasp as his hands continue to caress the softness of your breasts with sharp movements that take in all your skin.

And once you feel comfortable again with his size inside you, you begin to move your hips against him.

"Oh yeah, baby," he grunts, "Just like that."

You continue to move back and forth, moaning his name, feeling his warm breath against your breasts, beginning to feel your skin bristle from all the sensation that is too much but not enough at the same time.

"Yes, baby," you say in a whimper, "Please, you feel so good."

You begin to move more purposefully up and down now, causing him to growl again and let out a curse in your ear, holding you tighter around your waist by how you bounce against him.

The rain out there probably helps make your moans not so audible, but you no longer care where you are and if anyone might notice you both, especially since the car is moving with your movements on top of him, but you don't care.

You can only focus on one thing and that is Aemond, your perfect boyfriend.

You only feel more waves of pleasure that his cock soothes as you see his beautiful smooth but slightly contracted face in intense pleasure, with a few strands of his now short hair sticking to his forehead from his light sweat, looking so sexy.

Each drag of his cock head sends electricity throughout your body and a feeling of euphoria, almost making you see stars and fireworks, moving more fervently against him.

His breathing is just as fast as yours, hearing on top of that the slapping of your ass against his thighs every time you thrust him deep inside you again.

"That's it," he hums, then tightens the grip of his hands on your hips and begins to move faster and harder on top of him.

You moan loudly, feeling too much, delicious and driving you completely crazy.

"Fuck," you whined at the way he guides you, closing your eyes in complete delight.

And the next thing he does as he feels your walls contract around him, he wraps his arms around you and holds you with his warm hands from your lower back, grunts and begins to meet your movements as he too thrusts his hips upward in hard, fast, hard thrusts.

The air is completely gone from your lungs once more and you moan louder, the sound of both your skins sticking together also being heard, making your eyes roll back.

"Yes, yes, baby," you say as best you can, drunk with pleasure, frowning as you feel yourself cumming soon.

"Holy fuck, baby," he croons, "Keep goin', baby. Squeeze my cock. I wanna feel you cum first," he groans, his voice almost desperate.

He continues to whisper obscene things in your ear, that you are his, how much he loves you, how beautiful you look all desperate with his cock inside you, what he wants to do to you next, how long he has waited to be inside you again and how much he loves to hear your beautiful sounds that are only for him.

You can't help but react to his dirty words and your pussy squeezes him harder, making him grunt and curse with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his cheeks pink from the heat and his lips half-open, breathing hard.

"Fuck-fuck," you say quickly, clinging tighter to him in a desperate way.

"You're going to cum, aren't you?" he purrs and you let out a moan, trying to speak, "Yes, baby. Cum for me, please."

He leans in and kisses you with need, as he continues to grind his hips against yours and you moan into his mouth as he brings his thumb back to your bud and strokes it with just enough pressure to make you moan and feel more of your pleasure on the verge of exploding.

And with three more sweeps of his thumb on your clit, you get goose bumps and collapse on top of him.

You moan his name and every muscle in your body tenses at once, you tingle and your mind goes blank as you let out a high pitched moan louder than the previous ones and you see stars behind your eyes as a wave passes all over your insides.

You feel the euphoria all over your head and you jerk for a moment, almost aching from it all, feeling too much as Aemond continues to fuck you through your orgasm, reaching his own peak.

"Oh, fuck," you hear him moan and with one last hard, hard lunge, a hot liquid spurt of his cum fills you inside you.

The pleasure burns all over you, it courses through your body and you gasp, breathing hard and barely processing everything that has just happened.

Together you wait for the high to subside as you drop your head heavily against his shoulder and he continues to hold you, waiting for his racing heartbeat to calm down.

He begins to leave soft kisses on your forehead and brushes away your damp locks stuck to your sweaty face gently, smiling completely happy and satisfied, while you continue to melt under his touch and watch for a moment as the rain continues out there.

"Are you okay, baby?"

He asks you while still trying to catch his breath and you hums in affirmation, slowly sitting back up to look him in the eye.

"More than okay," you assure him with that satisfaction in your body.

You smile at him with love in your gaze and lean in to kiss him, where once again you think of how much you missed him and how happy it makes you to be with him again in this way, being all you needed.

"Stay with me in my room," you tell him as you pull away from him, not taking your hands away from his face.

"I wasn't planning on not staying, love."

He smiles back at you and he leaves one more kiss on your lips again, pulling your whole naked body against him again, holding you tight, as if he doesn't want to let you go.

His cock softens inside you and you carefully pull away from on top of him, feeling like there's a mess on your crotch and thighs, but nothing you can't fix since your room is a few feet away.

Once you both finish cleaning up what you can inside his car, where barely Aemond cares about it, you and he run under the rain to hurry into your building, where you take him to your room.

Tonight is not the last time Aemond makes you come, as once you are both in the four walls of your room, he makes you come with his fingers, tongue and cock, proclaiming it is to make up for the time you were both apart.

The next morning, in your bed, you can't help the silly smile that appears on your lips when you see the serene and calm face of Aemond, who is sleeping peacefully next to you.

You immediately place your head on his chest and hug him, wanting to feel that closeness and touch from him, completely happy but also tired from everything you both did last night.

You feel that satisfied tingle between your legs and now being like this with him, just time seems to stand still for you, wanting to be like this forever.

Aemond stirs a little under you and you feel and hear him inhale deeply, then feel his warm hands wrap around your bare back, pulling your body closer to him, making you smile softly.

"Hmm," he says hoarsely, sending a vibration you feel in his chest, "Good morning," he says still sleepily.

You laugh softly under your breath, lifting your face to watch him.

"It's the afternoon, actually," you tell him amused then leave a soft kiss on his lips.

He hums, still keeping his eye closed, while instead of seeing his blue sapphire in his left empty socket, he has on his prosthetic eye, which you hadn't seen in some time, but still had missed.

"Really?" he asks you still sleepily.

"It's twelve o'clock," you let him know, then look at him somewhat warily, "Don't you have to work or something?"

"Hmm…" he says for a moment, hugging you against his chest more firmly, "Yeah but it doesn't matter, I want to take the day off."

You can't help the small tight-mouthed smile that appears on your lips and you pull your face closer to his, closing your eyes and melting under his touch and the comfort of your bed, while out there the weather is cloudy from the storm at night.

"You know my work now won't interfere between us, right?" he suddenly asks you softly, getting your attention, "I'm not going to make the same mistakes as last time. I'm going to do this right."

Again you can't help but smile a little, as you remain silent for a moment and gently nuzzle your nose with his.

"Now I know," you murmur softly to him, in response.

Aemond smiles softly, marking his dimples on either side of his cheeks, as the two of you make no effort to get out of bed and entwine your legs together, intending to stay here for a while longer.

And in that moment, it's just you and him, both in the right place at the right time.

That day in your room, you both talked about everything, about what would come next and how you would face it together, how you would do things now and also caught up for the months apart.

There were all kinds of laughs and heartfelt conversations. Instead of focusing on the mistakes of the past, you chose to look forward and build that new future together.

A few weeks after you and Aemond got back together, the topic of you both living together comes up again, but this time, he gives you the news that he stopped living in the apartment where you both lived together and recently bought an apartment for himself in the upper suburbs.

And it's only a matter of time before you both now create new moments in a new place.

Even the press gives the news after they see you both in a luxurious restaurant enjoying a rich dinner, where there is no lack of physical contact and some innocent kisses, where you both look absolutely happy.

Aemond's family, Hel more than anything else, are happy that the two of you are back together, where you never crossed paths with Otto Hightower.

And it is also only a matter of time before all the other close people around know that you and Aemond are back together again.

But Aemond couldn't care less, since he has you back, his sweet girl and that's all he cares about.

His company continued to be successful, even increased with now him being the boss and your classes and work remained the same, only with the difference that you now have that stability you had so longed for back.

And fortunately it came back into your life, as well as Aemond's new life, having you back.

You both supported each other in your goals and dreams, finding strength and inspiration in this new chapter of your lives.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @n4forlife @iamavailablesstuff @ttkttt @elliaze @trshngyn @tsujifreya @imsoshygirl @watercolorskyy @kckt88 @zenka69 @yentroucnagol @crispmarshmallow @bellastwd @queenofshinigamis @strangersunghoon @happinessinthebeing @iloveallmyboys @twobluejeans @siriusdumblittlepuppy @celesteblack08 @birkinwhore @nikkitc0703

[prythianpages]

Like An Angel | Masterlist

𓆩♡𓆪 Like An Angel

summary: Eris is dancing on the edge of despair when he finds you. The one person who reignites the flickering flame within him, breathing life back into his weary soul. His mate. Too bad you’re betrothed to his younger brother.

a/n: this follows a loose plot and below you can find more of soft reader x Eris <3 I tried to write each imagine as a stand alone. Most of these will be inspired from songs.

𓆩♡𓆪 Cruel Wicked Thing

summary: you are betrothed to Sawyer Vanserra yet that doesn't stop the eldest Vanserra from wanting you.

𓆩♡𓆪 A Man After Midnight

summary: you feel utterly and completely alone with only the company of autumn winds, blowing outside your window. that is, until, Eris shows up. Your man after midnight.

𓆩♡𓆪 Golden Hour

summary: Eris sneaks you out of the Forest house to watch the lantern festival in private.

𓆩♡𓆪 You're Good To Me

summary: Eris realizes two things. One, he's in love with you. Two, he's put you in danger.

𓆩♡𓆪 Catching Fire

summary: When word of Sawyer's nightly endeavors reaches Beron, he summons you both to his office. Meanwhile, Eris is away on a secret mission where he discovers a troubling truth about you.

𓆩♡𓆪 I Can't Pretend

summary: After your sudden disappearance, Eris takes it upon himself to find you. When he does, he breaks down and can no longer hide his feelings for you.

𓆩♡𓆪 Locked Out of Heaven [coming soon]

summary: Eris finds a way to save you from the horrors of Autumn Court but in doing so, he inevitably hurts you and fears you’ll never forgive him.

𓆩♡𓆪 Crawl Home to Her [coming soon]

𓆩♡𓆪 Sent From Heaven Down to Earth [epilogue]

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 9)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, language, the tiniest amount of alcohol consumption, digital penetration, masturbation, oral sex (fem rec), anal play, unprotected sex, etc

Okay, sweet peas, we’ve got one more chapter to go (maaaaybe two idk), but all your favorites will be back! Plus an epilogue. Thank you so much for sticking with me after I did sugar jake so dirty the first time around ❤️

The air is lush and fragrant with herbs, sizzling eggs, and Jake when you wake - though his side of the bed has already cooled.

He’s all around you. Clothes and scuffed boots tossed about the room. Guitar case propped open sans Gibson - where has she gone? The scent of his skin clinging to yours. The gentle bustle of him milling around in the kitchen. You roll over and shamelessly bury your face in the pillow he rested his pretty head upon last night. Drawing him in with a shiver of content…he is home and you are basking in the comfort that is the great return.

He’s humming something to himself, and though you can barely hear - and you certainly can’t place the song - you try to hum along, laughing quietly to yourself when it comes out sounding muddled and strange as you search for a melody you don’t know.

It doesn’t matter. If he’s humming, you want to hum along. You’d like to walk beside him always, twisted and tangled together like a silken braid of devotion.

Seduced by his silly siren’s song, your feet hit the floor as you search for something to throw on. You settle on the black blazer he’s tossed over the back of a chair and pad down the hallway. Lulled and lured by his quiet chaos.

You find him, back to the doorway, gingerly shaking a pan with one hand and tossing what looks to be diced veggies with the other, totally at ease and at home. A gorgeous, disheveled chef complete with yesterday’s sweats, t shirt that’s torn at the neck, and tangled hair.

Should you stand and watch him awhile? It sounds tempting…to watch him work, a sneaky, head over heels fly on the wall. The way he moves, every shift of muscle is intoxicating. Yes, you are bewitched, but even standing here bathed in his presence, you miss him, and that wins out.

”Morning, Jakey,” you smile, breaking his concentration.

”There’s my sugar,” he tosses you a look over his shoulder that stops your heart. “I’m making you breakfast, my love. Would you like coffee or tea?”

Bare feet dancing over chilled tile, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek between his shoulder blades, “Whatever you’re having.”

He backs up a little, no doubt worrying about your arms - though they are protected by his jacket - being too near to the stove, and turns, pulling you closer while walking you backwards towards the island, “How about we share a cup of tea? You hungry?”

Flashes of memories burn through your brain…last night, in the foyer wrapped up together on the floor while he kissed your body and wept. On the couch while you talked about how exactly this all might work. Later, in a bed that wasn’t yours, in sheets you wouldn’t wash.

You should be thoroughly sated, but yes…you are hungry.

”How’d I get so lucky, little girl?” His lips curve into a grin that derails your thoughts and replaces them with something much softer. Your heart is weak for the look in his eyes…the unapologetic, worshipful love that blazes there. “How did I manage to earn this?”

”Earn what?” You smile back, praying that the emotion pounding in your heart is as evident in your gaze as it is in his, “Us?”

His eyes duck away with a shy nod, “I just never thought I’d have you like this again. In my arms, not going anywhere. Staying.”

Your fingertips are at his cheeks, sweeping over the perfect warmth of his skin, soft as air, “Jake, you didn’t earn anything. You’ve always held my heart.”

Still unwilling to meet your gaze, he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “You took it away.”

”No,” you argue in a hush. Can he really not see? “I left it with you. You’re the only reason it beats, anyway. But if you don’t feed me soon, I fear I may perish.”

”Drama queen.” He grins, pecking your cheeks each in turn, grateful that you’ve eased his mind and calmed his tender nerves.

The kettle begins to scream and you patter off to the table tucked into the corner, homey and quaint, to watch him work to take care of you. Soon, you’re gifted a steaming mug along with another kiss dropped atop your head. “Splash of rum and a sprinkle of cinnamon, sugar. It’s 9 o’clock in the morning, you lush.”

”Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, Jake?” You tease back, watching as he moves to finish things up at the stove, throat seizing with aching affection…he remembers how you take your tea.

”I don’t have to get you inebriated for that,” he sounds gravelly and full of himself, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I could fuck you however and wherever I so felt the inclination, my lovely little doll, and you would grace me with your gracious and enthusiastic appreciation.”

You bat your lashes wildly at him as he presents two plates heaped with brightly colored, expertly sautéed vegetables and fluffy, scrambled eggs like cheery, sunny clouds. A bowl of swollen, fuschia raspberries deposited between your plates like a pile of sweetened jewels steals the show. “Oh, be still my heart…you know how I enjoy it when you speak like a dictionary.”

”I know, sugar,” there’s that beaming smile of his again as he offers you a berry, lightly teasing it at your lips until you open up for him. “plenty more where that came from.”

A comfortable quiet sparks to life as you both dig in and pass the teacup back and forth. He finally breaks it, speaking up around a bite of potatoes and peppers. “I spoke to Josh this morning.”

”And how is your missing piece?” You quirk an eyebrow over the top of the cup you have now commandeered.

He leans back in his chair and settles his gaze upon you, clocking your expression closely, searching for a reaction. “Obnoxious as ever. He’s annoyed with me because I haven’t looked over the lyric revisions he sent me, and I certainly couldn’t care less if I actively tried. However, he’s very excited to see you. Cross though he might be with his dear brother.”

”Hello, Oliver,” you wink, “Let’s have Jacob back, shall we?”

You haven’t forgotten Jake’s tendency for trotting out Mr. Reed when he’s dipping a toe or two into the waters of vulnerability.

“Do you miss him?” He asks quietly, “Do you want things to be the way they were before? Because I can live with that if it means you’ll stay.” He rushes on as if he fears he may lose his nerve. “I want you to be happy, whatever it takes, I just want you to be happy.”

Fork clinking lightly against your plate as your focus zeros in on his lovely face, you lean forward and reach for his hand “Did he tell you he came to see me? After I ran into Danny that day?”

His fingers slip into your waiting palm with a soft squeeze, “He mentioned that he found you and asked you hide away until we’d gone. I’ve never wanted to hurt him as badly as I did then. Not even when we were young and stupid. Not even that night, when he forced me to let you go.”

“He was only trying to protect you, jake.” Your head tilts, watching residual pain flare to life in his eyes. “I’ve done a great many things to hurt you, it’s a wonder he doesn’t hate me for it.”

“He could never hate you, sugar. Don’t say things like that, it would break his heart to hear them.” The conviction in his words is fierce, and that makes sense…they share a life force at times, it seems.

“He did ask me to hide away, yes…” you nod, wrapping your free hand around his knuckles, warming his touch with your own, “But did he tell you anything else about our visit? Did he tell you how easy it was for us? How we caught up and laughed and looked at each other like very old friends that had been lost to each other for too many years?”

His shoulders tense as though he’s bracing for a gentle impact, but on you march, whispering to him in this unfamiliar kitchen that feels fat full of love.

”Did he tell you that it didn’t even hurt, our being in the same room with everything so fucking different? Did he know that all I could do was sit there, falling silently apart and searching for you in his eyes?”

“But you loved him.” Now it’s his turn to search your eyes, but for what you’re not sure. “I don’t want you to have to tamp that out. Not ever. You love so beautifully, sugar. I can share.”

”I did love him,” you nod. “Very much. A long time ago. I love him still. Differently. And not the way I love you. I have never loved anyone the way I love you. You don’t have to share. Not anymore.”

His grip is pulling at you now, tugging you to your feet and into his arms, creaking the worn wood of his chair beneath the weight of you both as he buries his face into your bare chest, hiding his tears in the lapels of his blazer as he weeps into your skin.

“Shh, baby,” you soothe, stroking through his hair, holding onto him as he clings to you as if you might vanish like a sigh.

His face tilts upward, lips brushing over your chin and jaw, licking and tasting you through his tears. “I love you, sugar. Sometimes I feel like all this love I have for you is just going to break me into pieces, like I can’t hold it all inside. There’s no room for it. I’m too small.”

”Jake,” you feel like you could break into pieces right alongside him as he begins tugging his jacket away from your shoulders.

He shakes his head, hushing you silently, “So, I’m going to take all this love and I’m going to give it all to you. And I’m gonna fill our house with it, press it into the walls and let it seep into the floorboards. Every nail and every window is going to feel it. The pipes and hinges. The chimney is going to breathe it into the night when we light fires in the winter. And we’re going to have babies and I’m going to love them just as much, and I can’t wait to watch you love them…”

You feel baptized in his tears and the wet, warm press of his mouth as he tattoos beautiful promises into your flesh. How could you ever have believed that you wanted anything other than this?

“I’m going to exist for you every single day, sugar…” a sob escapes him, though he tries so hard to bite it back, “I already do…I always have.”

“I know, baby…it’s okay,” you’re kissing adoration into his hair, combing your fingers through the tangles, coddling him and cooing the softest endearments, desperate to mollify his soul, fraught to offer him peace. “Please don’t cry, jakey. You know I can’t stand it.”

Hearing his own words lilting off of your tongue, he pauses and gazes up into your eyes like he sees everything he’ll ever need in them, “When I said that to you, I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be…gone. I didn’t want to live in a world where you wore his ring on your finger with tears in your eyes. Will you miss him?”

Should you lie? Perhaps. But wouldn’t he see the untruths lying bare? Wouldn’t that hurt even worse? Your deception?

“Yes,” you nod, petting him as he presses in closer, “he was kind to me, and sweet. He made me laugh. He made me half-way happy enough to pretend. I’ll miss him sometimes…but never enough to look back and regret chasing after you.”

“I’m glad he was kind to you,” he whispers, kissing a drunken, winding path across the tops of your breasts, “you deserve kind. He loved you, I could see that. I didn’t want to, but I could. And maybe I hated that, but I would have hated the alternative so much more. I’m sure he loves you still.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you laugh softly, “he wasn’t very pleased with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sugar,” he stares up at you with eyes laced heavily in adulation, “you don’t leave a man alone so easily. You linger and overstay your welcome in the worst way. Learn to leave a room, sweetheart.”

He has pulled another laugh out of you, louder and bell like this time…it twists his heart with heated, pulsing adoration.

”Jake,” you pause, waiting for him to give you his honey brown eyes, “You were right when you said none of it matters. This matters.” Your palm finds your heartbeat for a moment, and then his own.

”I know, my love…” tears skate along his lash line like blissful, shimmering quartz, “I know.”

~

His mouth is at your throat, gentle hand splaying out across your abdomen, holding you down against the cool, polished wood of the table.

Fingers playing at your lips, he breaks a raspberry apart between his fingers before sweeping it over your waiting tongue. “You’re so beautiful, sugar. Aren’t you? Aren’t you my pretty, pretty girl?”

His shirt has landed on the tile, forgotten and worthless to this task at shaking hand.

“Yes,” nails digging into his shoulders to remind him of where you’ve been, of where your touch belongs, you nod fervently beneath his kiss, “I’m your pretty girl, Jakey. I’m your girl.”

Lips beginning a path up your cheek to your temple, he hums euphorically and grasps at your ankles, tugging gingerly until your heels are resting on the table. “Will you show me?” His voice is silken and inquisitive, tongue fluttering over your earlobe to bring chills to life inside you. “Hmm? Will you show me how pretty you are for me?”

”Anything,” you pant, arching away from the table, desperate to be closer to him as he pulls back.

You watch on, body throbbing and screaming for him while he pops a raspberry into his mouth and settles back into his chair, legs spread wide, hands fisted into flexing balls at his knees, “Touch yourself for me, sugar. Rub your sweet little clit, nice and slow, just for me.”

Maybe you’d like to say your body protests, maybe you ought to say that you shy away, maybe if you weren’t so indescribably in love with him you’d do both of those things, but as it stands….

….as it stands, you give him what he’s asked for without thought. There isn’t a breath of hesitation. You simply roll two fingers over your tongue, reach down between your thighs, and begin.

The hushed moan that tumbles off the tip of your tongue tugs a sigh from his lungs that sets you further on fire. He sounds so beautiful, so wholly under a spell that you can’t fathom having the ability to cast over this deity of a man.

“There’s my good girl,” he is so quiet, you’d scarcely hear him were your focus not so completely honed in on jake jake jake, “Does that feel good, little girl? Is my sugar making that pretty pink pussy feel just so nice?”

He is an obscene angel staring you down with snarled hair and wicked sin in his wild eyes.

A trembling sound is all you’re able to manage as your touch dips inside yourself to draw slick back up to your clit.

”Yeah?” he tilts his head, watching you reverently, “It looks like it does. You’re dripping all over the table. I want to lick it up.”

“Please,” your fingers circle faster, but something is missing. He, close though he might be, is missing.

”Please, what?” He sounds as needy and hungry as you feel. “Tell me what you want me to do to you and I’ll do it, baby. Whatever you want…I’ll fucking do it.”

”Your mouth,” your legs spread wider until your hips protest, and then you spread a little wider in offering. “I’d like to have your mouth please, Jakey. Please. lick me, please, please.”

A groan rumbles out of his chest like pained thunder as he wraps his arms around your thighs, tugging you in and burying his mouth exactly where you’ve so politely begged for it. Another anguished sound pushes from his lungs as he drinks down his first mouthful of you.

The tip of his tongue teases over your shivering clit, and then slinks down to dip inside you, and then down farther still to lap against that heavenly little spot where it shouldn’t be.

He hums against you while you whine and yank at his hair, pulling his kiss in closer as your hips lift away from the wood you’re making such a mess of.

“Fuck,” your fingers lace through his hair perhaps just a bit too tightly, but a quiet grunt signals his appreciation, “right there.”

“I know where you like my mouth every now and then, sugar,” his words are hot against you as his thumb slides, warm and thick, inside your cunt “Dirty girl.”

Watching you shy away so endearingly squeezes at his chest. You have always given yourself to him so completely. You have always been his girl. His mouth has known every breathtaking inch of your body in a hundred different lifetimes. His heart has known your heart in a thousand more.

Your fingers search out your clit, neglected and crying out for attention, completing that lovely trifecta as you rock your hips, fucking his face without shame.

He is yours and you will take him.

Your belly is burning, white hot and tight, coiling and churning as your body begins to tremble and flush.

“Gonna cum…” A complete sentence seems an impossible task “I— oh, please, please, please,”

His fingers replace his thumb with a feral growl low in his throat, tucking up in behind your clit as you watch his arm begin to move rhythmically below the table.

”Don’t cum,” you order through whimpers and whines that sound anything but authoritative. How difficult it proves to be to be bossy when his tongue is warm and wet where you shouldn’t adore it so damn much.

”I won’t,” his promise is beautifully muffled. “But I want you to do it. Cum for me, fuck doll…give it up pretty.”

You tighten deliciously around his searching tongue and delving fingers as it crawls through you like sinking into a warm bath that swirls with glittering, lilac goldfish. They kiss your skin soft as monarch wings; strange, swimming beings in the waters that are Jacob. It is lovely, though given the filth that has ushered you into this state, maybe that makes no sense.

He works you carefully until your breathing begins to stutter and gasp uncomfortably, and then there is his striking and stunning face - cheeks blazing with desire - kissing and licking up your body as you squirm languidly.

“Was that good, baby?” His teeth are dragging against the swell of your breast now, igniting a fire within you anew.

Jacob, always so cocksure and confident, sounds famished for your approval. How strange.

You hand it over willingly and honestly, on a silver platter of affection, “So, good, Jakey…I love you so much.”

“You taste like fucking candy everywhere,” his praise is little more than a whispered murmur as he buries into the crook of your neck, “I want you in my mouth and under my fingertips forever, for fucking always.”

The tip of his cock, full and hot like velvet, sweeps across your entrance, teasing inside just a breath before pulling back and then nudging in all over again.

“Put it in,” your fingers are clawing lazily at his hips, silently trying to guide him into action, “Fuck Jake, please baby, just slip it inside and—“

He grinds his hips forward, cutting you off, filling you up, pulsing and slick and hot and…

”My girl,” his words are humid at your throat as he whimpers through a physical shudder. “My sugar, my love. That’s my baby, that’s it…taking it so well. You feel so fucking good.”

His wandering fingers find and sweep over your clit with a glide as sweet as satin, and it has you clenching down around him so wildly his eyes snap shut with a furrowed brow, mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

Buried to the hilt now, those eyes lull open to stare down where your bodies connect. “Looks so pretty stretched around my cock. How’d this little cunt ever get so beautiful?”

Your cheek turns to meet the cool of the oak you're draped across, embarrassed in the most blissful way, but he is positively weak for the way his words cause your thighs to tighten around his waist.

His name begins to burn out of your lungs, smoking into the sun-soaked kitchen like a prayer.

”That’s it,” he sounds faraway, like he’s crooning to you from across the room, “My name, sugar…always my name.”

And then, there is his thumb, soaked in your need and brushing against that spot just below where his cock is dragging in and out of your cunt.

A wanton cry for more bleeds out of you, bringing forth another knit of his brow as he sinks inside you to follow the deep thrust of his cock, “‘Oh my’, right sugar? Isn’t that how my fuck doll reacts? All sweet like a lady, to being filled up so full?”

His loving, mocking tone snatches you back full circle to that very first night with him that seems so long ago…he has been all you’ve ever wanted, ever since. He is all you will ever want.

He is every direction, the night and the day, every song ever written…every poem ever wept onto pages, every star that will light the skyline tonight and all the ones that came before. He is every beat of your pulse, every breath in your lungs - and when you breathe your last, it will be his name on your lips.

White explodes behind your eyes as fireworks detonate down deep inside you, sparkling a crackling-like frenetic energy throughout your nervous system until you are tightened up and writhing with it…cumming so hard, so fucking hard, that you nearly force his beautiful cock right out of your body.

He follows your lead and pulls away, tugging at himself violently as you shower down over him like the filthiest, most exquisite drops of summer-of-love rain.

“Oh fuck, sugar, please,” he’s whining as his release lands hot and frantic against your quivering stomach, but for what, neither of you know.

You’re lost in his faraway expression, watching him fight for a deep breath as you search for your own composure when your fingers sweep through a milky ribbon painted across your navel…you want to taste him, but his grip is wrapped firmly around your wrist in an instant, with your fingers nestled against his cashmere tongue.

“I’ll clean my pretty girl up myself, if she doesn’t mind.” His mouth brushes soothingly at your hip just before he begins licking up his own release, eyes cast upwards to your own as you shake, stunned and blissfully shellshocked.

At last, you find your voice as his bubblegum pink tongue curls over the last drop, “You taste good, don’t you, Jakey?”

“Not as good as you, sugar,” His mouth is on yours now, kissing far too sweetly for what you know him to be capable of. “not even close.”

“Shower?” He pops another raspberry into your mouth and then nuzzles against your nose.

”Bath.” You correct, nearly melting into the table beneath his love.

~

A sponge, fresh out of its package and now smothered in body wash, drags across your chest as his chest rests against your back.

”We leave tonight?’ Your voice sounds unfamiliar…too content, too relaxed. It’s been such a long time since you’ve sounded this way. Since you’ve been so completely happy.

”I wish we could stay longer,” he kisses at your drenched, now squeaky clean hair, “just you and me.”

”Me too,” you sigh, settling back into his embrace even more, “but I’m also excited to see those idiots you call brothers. Especially the baby.”

”He’s missed you.” More kisses to clutch at your already stolen heart. “Nothing was the same without you, sugar. Time to come home.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove

[rollingsins]

all hers, part x

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Sam moves in. Tara isn’t happy, so you soothe her in the only way you know always works. 

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder, drug abuse, strap-ons, vaginal sex, top!reader, bottom!tara

word count: 3.5k

a/n: for all my bottom!tara supremacists. enjoy, and tell me what you’d like to see next!!

Tara stays in the hospital for the rest of the weekend. 

You don’t let her out of your sight, not once, sleep curled into her side with your back against the hospital bed railing so she can have more space. 

You think she kind of likes it, you fawning over her like this. You can tell by the way she grips you tight when you try to get up to go to the bathroom. Or when she insists she’s too tired to shower alone. 

The morning after she was first admitted, Sam shows up in a flurry, her new boyfriend Richie on her arm. 

“What happened?” She asks, somewhat accusingly as she looks down at Tara’s sleeping body, curled into your side. 

You hesitate a moment. Sam’s scary when she gets angry, and this would almost certainly make her mad. 

“She mixed some pills. She was… upset.” 

“Upset?” Sam asks, “Upset about what?” 

“Wes.” Tara croaks out, stirring against your side, “He’s missing.” 

Sam crouches down, brushes Tara’s hair out of her face. 

“Oh, Tara. I know. I’m so sorry.” 

Then, she grips Tara’s hand, hard. 

“What were you thinking?”

Richie’s looking at you, a little funny. 

“Maybe we should go and get some coffee.” He suggests, “Let these two catch up.”

“No.” Tara says immediately. Grips a possessive hand around your waist. You press a kiss to the top of her head. 

“It’s a good idea. I’ll be ten minutes. You can catch up with your sister. I’ll get you some Jell-o.” 

She stares at you a moment, before relenting. 

“Strawberry, please.” She murmurs. 

You press a kiss to her lips. Watch as Sam surveys you. Then follow Richie out of the room. 

You’ve met Richie exactly once. Tara didn’t like him, but you didn’t think he was that bad. A little awkward, sure. Gangly but harmless. Sometimes, inappropriate jokes. 

He cracks one now, as you’re lining your paper cup underneath the coffee machine, trying to break the tension. You don’t laugh. 

Your girlfriend lying in the hospital with tubes coming out of her nose has somewhat ruined your sense of humor. 

“So, uh… what do they think happened to that Wes kid?” Richie asks, out of nowhere, “They think it was Ghostface?”

You turn, sharp. 

“No. He’s missing, that's all.” 

Richie hums. 

“That’s the Sheriff’s son, right?” He asks, “We ran into her on the way here. Wouldn’t want to be the one who took her kid. That guy’s in for a world of hurt when she catches him.”

Your stomach churns, uncomfortably. 

“You ran into her on the way here?” You ask, head tilting. 

Richie nods, “Yeah. Told her about Tara. I think she’s going to come and check on her later this afternoon.” 

Your stomach drops. 

“Oh. Perfect.”

Richie catches your tone, “You don’t like the Sheriff?” 

You pull your coffee cup out from the filter. Try to appear casual. 

“She doesn’t like us.” You say, honestly, “She’s- caught us. A few times.” 

“Huh.” Richie says, like he doesn’t know what to do with that information. You’re hoping it will make him uncomfortable enough to stop asking questions. It seems to work. 

“So. Um. No word from Tara’s mom?” 

By the time you make it back to the room, Sam’s taken your seat, and Tara looks unhappy. 

“They were out of strawberry.” You murmur, press a kiss to her cheek. Set the raspberry Jell-o to the nightstand. You settle down on the edge of her bed, rub at the frown on her face, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m moving back home.” Sam answers before she can speak. “It’s a bit of a- shock, clearly.” 

“Oh.” 

A storm brews behind Tara’s eyes. You rub her arm, hoping to calm her a little. It doesn’t work. 

“You can stay a week.” Tara says, sounding very much like it’s the last thing in the world she wants to offer, “Then you can go.” 

“Tara, this isn’t up for negotiation.” Sam says, she reaches for Tara’s hand. Tara’s shoulders tense, “Mom is…. fucking useless and I don’t want you in that big house all alone. Look what just happened.” 

“I’m not alone,” Tara argues, “I have YN. And we’re happy. You being there would just… ruin everything.” 

“Thanks.” Sam says, a little sarcastic. She doesn’t look put off, “I won’t ruin your love bubble, sis. I promise. YN can stay. Richie and I will take the guest room-”

“Richie?” Tara says, incredulously, “No, Sam. No way.”

Richie laughs, somewhat uncomfortably. He looks at Sam. 

“Always great to know where I stand with the family.” 

“Enough, Tara.” Sam says, like it’s final, “It’s my house just as much as it is yours. And I’m staying there so I can keep an eye on you, like it or not.” 

Tara’s in a terrible mood when Sam and Richie finally leave to pack. You curl up into her, try and soothe some of the anger with a kiss. 

“Come on, babe.” You say, press your lips to her chest, “It won’t be that bad.” 

“She always does this.” Tara seethes, “She always has to ruin it. Why does she always ruin it?” 

“She cares about you.” You say, “She just wants you to be safe.”

Tara pouts. 

“I like it when it’s just you and me. How am I supposed to eat you out on the kitchen counter when she’s around?” 

“You’re not.” You say sternly, “And don’t you dare try.”

She groans. 

“See? This already sucks.” 

You kiss her once more. 

“We’ll just have to have sex in bed like regular people.” You tease, stroke her cheek, “It’s not the end of the world.”

Tara bites her lip, “And you’re staying with me, right?” She says, sounding somewhat vulnerable, “You’re not going back home to sleep without me, right?”

“I’m staying with you,” You assure. Punctuate your point with a kiss, “I promise.” 

A knock on the door breaks you apart. 

It’s Sheriff Hicks, dressed in her uniform, hat in her hands. 

“Hi girls.” She says, “Just thought I’d stop by and check in.” 

Immediately your heart races. Your hands sweat, clammy. The Sheriff moves a little closer, edges to the end of the bed. Tara’s hand tightens around yours. She rubs her thumb over the back of your hand, soothingly. 

“Hi Sheriff.” She says, “Thanks for stopping by.” 

“Your sister mentioned some pills.” Sheriff Hicks says, eyes stern, “Care to tell me where you got them from?” 

“My mom’s bathroom cabinet,” Tara lies, without a beat, “That’s not a crime, is it?” 

“Actually it is.” The Sheriff says, “That coupled with the underage drinking. Not a good look, Tara.” 

“You’re not going to arrest her?” You ask, in somewhat disbelief, “Look at her. She’s in a hospital bed.” 

The Sheriff surveys you for a moment. Her expression is blank, unreadable. But her eyes give her away. Hard, pained. She’s hurting. And hurt makes people unpredictable. For a moment, you really do think she’s about to pull out her handcuffs. 

“No. Just- don’t do it again. I can only look the other way so many times, Tara.” 

Tara nods. 

Your heart slows, just for a moment. 

“Any word on Wes?” Tara asks. 

The Sheriff swallows. 

“No. But that’s actually part of the reason I came here.” 

She looks like him, you think. Same eyes. Same unnerved expression. 

“I know you girls said the last time you saw him was on Thursday. But I have a witness who told me otherwise.” 

You might be sick. Your heart hammers so loudly you’re sure she can hear it. Tara grips your hand. 

“Really? Who?” 

“One of your neighbors.” She’s looking at you, critical, hard, “They saw Wes on your doorstep Friday afternoon.” 

Silence fills the room. Your mind is blank, frantic. You scramble for an excuse. Tara beats you to it. 

“You left your biology notes for him, didn’t you babe?” Tara says, turning to you. You look into her eyes. Warm, encouraging. Slowly, you nod. 

“Yeah. I’m so sorry. I totally forgot. He asked if he could pick them up.” 

The Sheriff watches you, her stare piercing. 

“And you let him in?” 

“He had a key,” Tara says smoothly, “We were- showering.” 

“So you didn’t see him?”

Tara shakes her head. 

“No. Sorry. Like I said, we were busy.” 

You bite your lip, anxious. Wonder if she’s buying it. 

“If he had a key, why did he knock?” The Sheriff asks. Your stomach whirls. It’s a fair question. 

“All our friends knock,” Tara says, her fingers tightening around yours, “We have a certain reputation. Ask Mindy, or Chad.” 

The Sheriff’s tense shoulders loosen a little. She scribbles something down on her notepad. 

“Alright. Thank you girls.” She hovers a moment, “I hope you feel better, Tara.” 

And she leaves. 

The moment she’s gone, you bury your face in Tara’s neck. 

“It’s okay, baby.” She soothes, rubbing her hand down your back, “She believed us.”

“I hate this.” You say, mournful, “Every-time she’s around, Tara, I feel like I’m going to-”

“Shh.” Tara murmurs against the top of your head, “Everything is okay.” 

-

Tara’s discharged in the morning. 

Sam drives the two of you home, ignores Tara’s grouchy jabs as she cooks the three of you dinner. Tara’s still a little weak, so she serves you in bed. When she comes back to collect the plates, Tara isn’t afraid to give her honest opinion. 

“The chicken was a little dry.” Tara says, slouching back against the pillows, “Can you please make sure Richie doesn’t touch my movie collection. I have it alphabetized.” 

Sam isn’t easily deterred. 

“Get some sleep.” She tells the two of you. Presses a long kiss against the top of Tara’s head, “Love you. I promise I won’t let Richie touch your precious movie collection.” 

You kick off your jeans, crawl back into bed with Tara as Sam leaves. 

“Be nice to your sister.” You chide, pinch her side as you curl into her, “She’s trying.” 

“Too little, too late.” Tara murmurs, “Besides, I wanted to watch that new M Night Shyamalan movie tonight. Can’t do that with Richie lounging around, playing his stupid shooting games.” 

Richie had commandeered the living room pretty quickly. Faintly, you can hear the sounds of Call of Duty blasting up the staircase. 

“We can still watch it.” You assure, “I’ll get my laptop.” 

Tara makes a face. 

“Baby, you can’t watch movies on a laptop. It ruins the entire experience.”

“So we’ll watch The Bachelor.” You say, a little excited at the prospect, “They’re down to the final three.” 

Tara tugs at your waist, pulls you into her. 

“Or…” She says, pressing a kiss to your neck, “We could do something else.” 

You close your eyes. Her tongue runs down the length of your neck, that familiar feeling of arousal flickering through your body. 

“You’re still sick. You need your strength.” You say, a little half-hearted. Her hands grip your hips, trying to pull you on top of her. 

“I’m lying down, aren’t I?” She murmurs. Her hands reach down into your underwear, trying to tug them down. 

You sigh, tilt your head to kiss her feverishly. 

You’ve missed her like this, you realize the moment your lips meet. You haven’t had sex with her in almost two weeks, a record for the two of you. Without a word, you relent. 

Her hands are greedy, roaming, trying to touch every inch of your skin. 

You climb on top of her, hands on her face, keeping her lips fused to yours. 

She’s so good with her hands, you think as she slips you out of your clothes. Her touch is like wildfire, igniting every part of you. Passionate, fierce kisses as she pushes her body up to yours, trying to grind herself against your thighs. 

You part from her lips for a moment, trail hot kisses down her neck. 

She’s egregiously overdressed. Blindly, you tug her sweatpants down her legs, her underwear soon to follow. 

You pull her shirt up, kiss your way down to her nipples and take one in your mouth. 

“Fuck.” She moans as you suck gently, take the other one between your fingertips. You can hear Sam and Richie’s voices downstairs, lick at her nipple once more before leaning up to kiss her again. 

“Quiet, baby.” You murmur. The last thing you want is Sam coming back up to check on her. Your hand slips down her body to feel between her legs. She feels so good, warm and wet. Your moan almost matches hers. 

She looks up at you, smiles slightly, her dark eyes impossibly turned on. 

“Snap.” She murmurs before you’re leaning down to kiss her again. 

You kiss a while more, slipping your fingers through her wet heat, loving the feeling of her tight under you, desperate leaning up to meet your kisses. She’s so pretty like this, wild, wanting and so wet. It sends a thrill through you. Even after all this time, even after you’d had her like this so many times, she still got so turned on for you. 

“I love you.” You sigh into her mouth, “I want to taste you so bad.” 

It’s not a question, and you don’t wait for her response. You kiss your way down her body, tilting her thighs to nestle yourself between them. You press a quick kiss to her inner thigh, then allow yourself to dive into her syrupy wetness. 

She moans as you swipe your tongue down her length. Her hands reach down to your head, locking you in place. You kiss her once, then twice, then trail your tongue down to her entrance, lapping gently in the way you know she likes so much. 

You wrap your arms around her thighs, keeping her where you want her. Teasing her entrance, slipping your tongue in and out a couple of times. She tastes incredible, you can’t get enough. You drink her greedily, like she’s a fine wine, then lick your way up to her swollen clit. 

“Oh my god.” She’s moaning as your tongue flicks against her. Her thighs tighten around your head, her hands gripping your hair so tight. 

You lick a few times, drawing a little more wetness out of her before you’re wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking hard. She likes it like this, she likes the pressure of your lips against her, suctioning hard, not giving her a moment to breathe. 

Her hips are tilting up, trying to get more as you lovingly suck her into an orgasm. 

She cums quick, hard, all breathy, quiet moans. 

Her hips jerk, and then sink back into the pillow. You release her with a final, tender suck, then press your lips to her thigh as you’re rising back up to meet her. 

She sighs as you kiss her, wraps her legs tight around your torso. 

“I missed you.” You tell her, press another gentle kiss to her lips, “I missed doing that.” 

“Me too.” She says. Her hands are still in your hair, her body pressed tight against you. She’s still so wet against your stomach. 

“I want to do something.” You say, your lips against her jaw, “I want to fuck you.” 

She nudges her nose against your cheek, smiling slightly, “What do you think we’re doing? Playing scrabble?” 

You’re deadly serious. You don’t smile, grip your hands tight around her thighs. 

“No, baby. I want to fuck you.” 

Her mouth falls open, slightly. She knows what you mean, you can tell by the way her eyes darken, a little unsure. You kiss her once more, soft, reassuring.

“Please.” 

She swallows. Surveys you for a moment, those pretty brown eyes, dark, hesitant. Then, she nods. 

You don’t give her a moment to change her mind. You’re reaching into the top drawer of her nightstand, tugging out the harness. Usually, this was her role. It’s what she liked the most. Topping you, making you hers. Tonight, you wanted to make her yours. 

She watches as you slip the straps around your waist, her legs spread slightly, making your mouth water. You hurry through it, wincing as you tighten it a little too hard, confusing yourself with the varying straps. 

“Here.” She sits up, helps you into it properly. Gives your hips a little squeeze. 

You kiss her once more. Tangle your hands in her dark hair. Then you’re pushing her back onto the bed. 

She looks a little confused. You didn’t wear the strap much, but when you did she was usually on top. You lean down and kiss her again, reassuring. 

“I want you on your back tonight.” You tell her, “Is that okay?” 

She blinks up at you. Then she’s nodding, slow. 

“Good girl.” You say, you lean down, press a kiss to her knee, “Spread your legs for me, baby.” 

She complies without a second thought. You slip in between her legs, placing her thighs on yours. 

You can’t resist reaching down to brush your fingers over her clit. She looks so pretty like this. Spread wide for you, naked and wanting. She looks vulnerable, like she’s yours for the taking. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You tell her, spread her thighs a little wider. 

She bites her lip as you lean in a little, rub the head of the dildo through her folds. 

She’s wet, wet enough for you to not need lube but you reach for it anyway. Pour a healthy helping into the dildo. She flinches slightly as the cold hits her warm heat.  You apologize with a kiss. 

You slip your tongue into her mouth, rub the head of the dildo against her clit. She sighs into your mouth.  

“Inside.” She murmurs. “Please baby.” 

You rub your hands over her thighs, soothe her as you slowly enter her. 

“Fuck.” You gasp out as the edge of the strap-on brushes your clit. You sink in as far as you can physically get, until your hips are flush against the back of her thighs. She’s tight, tense against you. You kiss her, let her get used to the stretch of you. 

Then, you gently jerk your hips forward. Her hands grip your arms, she shudders slightly as you sink back inside.

It’s not hard to see why she likes doing this to you so much. 

You feel powerful, tilting your hips into her, knowing you’re the one inside her, making her feel so good. She’s a little breathier than usual. Her chest flushing red, biting her lips as you thrust into her. It’s addictive. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” You murmur. She nods, eyes closed. You lean down, rub her clit. 

“Tell me.” 

“It feels good. Really good.” She says, her voice strangled. Higher than usual. 

You pump your hips a little harder. 

“I love it when you let me fuck you like this.” You murmur, lean down to press your body over hers. Pepper her neck with kisses, “You look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” 

You grip her thighs, tilting your hips. The act itself was hot, but more than anything you knew she’d never let anyone else take control like this. The fact that she trusts you so much turns you on even more. You press down into her, fuck her a little harder.

She gasps.  

You lose yourself a little. Your hips thrust hard, fucking her into the mattress. She’s all soft skin and quiet moans, her fingernails carving half moons into your back. You kiss her, a little sloppy, overwhelmed by the way she’s writhing under you. 

Each thrust edges you a little closer. You suck on the base of her neck, reach down to rub her clit, needing her close. 

“Fuck.” She moans, “I’m going to cum.” 

Her back arches.

You pound into her a little harder, sending her careening off the edge. Her entire body tightens, nails clawing into you as you fuck her through her orgasm. Then, with one more thrust you join her, body tensing as you orgasm hard. 

You heartbeat thrums. You press a kiss to her chest, feel her heart pound under your lips. Then you’re moving back up to her lips, taking her in a sweet kiss. 

You lay on her a little longer, until she’s yawning sleepily, then withdraw yourself with a careful tug, and slip the straps off your waist. 

You nestle yourself into her side, wrap a protective arm around her body. 

“Thanks, baby.” You murmur, “Love you.” 

“Love you too.” She says. 

Her eyes droop slightly. 

She wakes herself up, tries to reach down your body.

“Go to sleep, babe.” You tell her, press one more kiss to her lips. 

“What about you?”

“You already made me cum.” You tell her, you rub her leg, tug her into you. “Doing that.” 

“What, just lying there?” She smiles, tilts her head into your chest. 

“Laying there incredibly sexily.” You say. “Did you like that?”

She hums. Rubs her hand against your hips. 

“Yes. More than I thought I would.” She says, a little shy. 

“Good.” You say. Kiss her slow, “Because I want to do that again. And again. And again after that.” 

“Hmm.” She says, “I might be okay with that.”

Next part

[zepskies]

In the Dark

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

AN: Another story for the BMD-verse! This was requested by @sl33pylilbunny. It’s set in the six-month time gap after Part 17 and before the Epilogue of Break Me Down.

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, traumatic memories, hurt/comfort and feels.

Read more of the BMD-verse: ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

The building was falling apart.

You couldn’t remember why, but you were deep in a labyrinth. The only way out was further down, into what felt like an immense basement, wading through debris and pieces of the ceiling threatening to crush you at every turn.

You hadn’t stopped running and your lungs were on fire. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears. You had an iron grip on your friend’s wrist, so you wouldn’t lose her or her son in the chaos.

“Keep going,” you told them. “We’re getting out.”

A hand on your shoulder stopped you from moving forward.

And three shots rang out. You ducked and took your friend down with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

You woke with a sharp inhale.

Your eyes blinked wide and bleary in a pitch black room. You couldn’t see, but you could still hear your wild heartbeat echoing between your ears.

The more you blinked, the more your eyes adjusted. You could make out the familiarity of your bedroom. While you tried to calm your breathing, you turned onto your side, slowly.

You found Ben, asleep.

His mouth was parted as he breathed. His hair had fallen over his brows in sleep. You almost smiled…but you weren’t quite able to.

You carefully brushed the stray locks away from his forehead. Then you slid out of bed so you wouldn’t disturb him.

This had become your habit over the past couple of weeks since moving into this new apartment. You loved it, but it was hard for you to stay comfortable at night.

Though I don’t think that’s the apartment’s fault, you thought wryly. No, it was just your fucked mental health.

Shaking your head at yourself, you went down to the kitchen and made yourself some chamomile tea. That was Step 1.

Step 2 was sitting on the couch with your laptop and your headphones. You kept yourself up with YouTube videos and answering work emails. By now, they knew not to ask why you were sending them at three in the morning.

This time, however, you made a mistake.

Instead of going back to bed and lying awake for another hour until your alarm went off…you fell asleep on the couch.

You must’ve been more exhausted than you thought.

The next time you woke, it was to the odd sensation of floating. Or rather, being carried. You blinked up at Ben, whose brows were already furrowed.

“Hey,” you said, a bit sheepishly.

He didn’t answer you, nor did he set you down until he’d walked you back into the bedroom and laid you down on your side of the bed. It was still dark in the room, which meant you couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or so.

Ben slipped back into bed, and you turned toward him under the covers.

You felt bad about waking him up. He had his own bouts of insomnia, but it had been starting to get better, ever since you two moved in together permanently a couple of months ago.

You scooted closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder when he shifted onto his back. His arm came down around your waist, a comfortable weight that made you feel more secure.

“When was the last time you slept through the night?” he asked.

You breathed in deeply…and you let it out.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

He paused for a moment. Then he hummed in understanding. His hand moved slowly up and down your back.

You closed your eyes, but he still fell back asleep before you did.

Both of you had to work in the morning. Ben watched you out of the corner of his eye as you got ready for the day.

He’d been waiting for you to come to him with whatever was on your mind, but you were keeping it to yourself. He didn’t push you. You were smart, and whatever you needed to work out, he would let you deal with it your way, as you so often did.

It didn’t seem to affect how you did your job. At Supe Affairs, no one was the wiser. They didn’t know about the concealer covering the bags under your eyes, or that you were adding a couple shots of espresso to your usual latte every morning.

No, the fun came long after your day was done. After you had showered and dressed for bed, with a silent undercurrent of anxiety hovering in the back of your mind.

Another night, another pain in your ass.

You kept your eyes open for as long as you could, but at 2:00 a.m., you couldn’t take it anymore.

The darkness claimed you.

Three shots rang out. You ducked and took Yvette with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

Jon, your father, had a gloved fist punched through his chest cavity. 

You watched with wide eyes as Black Noir revoked his arm from your father’s body with a wet, horrific sound. You gasped when Jon fell to his knees.

But to your shock, the supe glanced right past you, Yvette, and Devon. His pale gray eyes focused on only the men in the room. He then strode forward and began picking them off one by one.

You shakily pointed out a large aisle of A-Train merchandise for your friend to hide behind. Yvette pulled her son in that direction, while you went to your father where he laid on the ground. 

With difficulty, you rolled him onto his back. You then laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other hovered over his chest. Blood pooled through the gaping chasm in his Vought-issued black jacket. 

Your lower lip trembled, and you realized then that you were crying as he struggled for breath. Even after everything he’d done to you—to your family—it still hurt you to see him like this…to know that he was dying. 

And there was no time. Not to save him, or for resolution…

“Dad,” you tried, but he stopped you. His brows were furrowed with pain, but he gripped your wrist tight. 

“Run,” he said. He held on for a moment or two longer, but when the light faded from his eyes, you closed yours. 

Your eyes wrenched open when a hand gripped your throat.

It was Black Noir, brandishing a katana between your eyes.

“…ake up.”

Words that just barely registered as you sucked in shallow breaths.

A solid pair of arms were caging you, and you instinctively fought the hold, uttering a whimper.

“Hey,” he said firmly. “It’s me.”

You gasped and finally found Ben’s face in the dark of the room. You heaved for breath as you stared up at him.

Despite your relief, tears brimmed in your eyes. Your grip tightened on his arms as your lips trembled. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sob.

Ben slid onto his side instead of looming above you. He guided you more securely into his arms, and you let yourself rest against his chest. You buried your face there and wept.

His fingers sorted through your hair as he tried to calm you.

“I’ve got you,” he rumbled. 

Your body was exhausted. Your chest was filled with anxiety, the remnants of fear, and frustration at yourself, that you couldn’t just get over this.

But you felt his lips at the crown of your head. The sound of his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek drowned out the sound of your rapid one, and it served to steady you too. Your hand splayed against his chest, connecting you with his warm skin.

You began to calm in his arms.

“I see my father die every night,” you whispered.

Finally, you admitted the things you hadn’t been able to for weeks.

“Black Noir, Vought crumbling, trying to find you,” you said, even though your voice was shaking. “Everything, all over again…except I never make it out.”

Ben let out a deep sigh. He nodded, his lips still brushing against your forehead.

“It’s just a dream,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

He could concede to that. He didn’t know what else to say to you though. All he could think to do was hold you a bit tighter.

“It’ll fade,” he said eventually. “Give it time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. A few tears fell through, but he brushed those away from your cheek.

When you were able to look up at him again, you asked him, “Has it all faded for you?”

Part of you already knew what he might say. As a result, you expected the way he hesitated.

“You know the answer to that,” he said. His fingers continued to sift through your hair, and you breathed easier at the pleasant sensation.

“They’re like battle wounds,” he continued. “They’ll just become scars.”

That wasn’t anything new for you, he knew. You’d had scars long before he met you.

You seemed to let his words sink in though. You nodded and pressed a kiss to his chest; a wordless thank you.

“Close your eyes,” he said, low and steady.

You hesitated, but you did as he said. You closed your eyes.

And when your breathing gentled into the deep calm of sleep, Ben allowed himself to try and do the same.

AN: And there we have it. Short and angsty lol. But I can't write angst without a little hurt/comfort. 💚💚

I hope you liked this!

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Precious chapter / Epilogue

a/n part fifteen! Right so, welcome to the end of it all. I genuinely from the bottom of my heart didn't expect you all to love this series so much. It's hands down one of my favorite project through a year of writing. It breaks me to know that we are meeting here with all of them for the very last time... You will get an epilogue chapter after this so. Second to last, let's say. Enjoy! And thank you once again. ✨🤍🫧

warning: kids - a fan favorite, past trauma, injuries, self sabotage. Nothing major, I promise.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

All Azriel remembered was the excruciating pain that ripped through every fiber of his body as he took step after step down the mountain from the fallen sanctuary. He had roared for Rhys, but either from his share of luck, at a second chance at life, or the level to which his body had been drained, Azriel was nowhere near his high lord mental shields. So he walked with your limp body in his hands. His wings dragged behind him. Jaw flexed. Teeth grinding against one another. Azriel took shaky steps. Because he never, not even in thousands of years, was gonna give up a chance to save you.

He collapsed shortly after reaching the burned outskirts of the city. Anger and dread pooled in his gut. He couldn't give up. Couldn't lose consciousness. Yet his knees dipped, and Azriel was on the hard ground. You slipped out of his grip, the pearlescent sheen of your hair and skin mixing with the ashes. "I'm so sorry," Azriel had breathed as he laid there beside you, feeling his body draining of last bits of strength. "If only I hadn't met you," he breathed, and the words alone shredded his heart. Because, as much as he tried to tell himself that you all would have been safer without him interfering, the spymaster couldn't imagine living in a world where you three weren't the center of his heart. But maybe that was the same selfish part of him. So deeply rooted in him. No matter what, he always ended up thinking how he couldn't live a life without the feeling of you in his chest and without the laughter of the kids. Azriel had let out a shaky breath, and then everything turned to darkness.

He had woken up in his bed sometime later. Rhys was sitting by his side. His faces were so dull and pained that it almost made Azriel want to reassure him, but he couldn't because the wave of anger that had rippled through Azriel was way stronger. The spymaster sat up quickly, pulling the blanket off. "Azriel," Rhys had let out a shaky breath. "Where are they?", black dots sprung into Azriel's vision, but he stood up regardless. "I think you should..." Rhys stared, but Azriel quickly cut him off. "I think you should tell me where my family is before I do something we might end up regretting down the line." His voice was rough and bitter.

"Give me a chance to...", Rhys pleaded as he stepped closer to Azriel. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, but Azriel didn't let them sway his judgment. "Give you a chance to what? Tell me that you all love me but sabotaged the best thing in my life because you didn't care all that much". His words were venom. Pure lethal venom. But the panic that rushed through Azriel was too strong. Too... "So I'll ask you one last time, where is my family?" His tone turned even deeper, "Where are my kids?" Rhys just stared at him. One heartbeat too long. Azriel growled as he yanked the door open. Swaying as he stepped into the hallway, on good days, when his scenes were intact, he would be able to find them with the emotional pull alone. But now... The spymaster was a mess as he wiped his head in different directions.

"Axel!", he yelled, not caring what hour it was. "Zofie," he breathed. He had to see them. "Ax!", Azriel roared, followed by the second part of his plea, "Zo!" The sound of the door opening somewhere down the hall made Azriel turn his head back. Nyx had stepped out, his weary eyes watching the spymaster. "In here, uncle," the boy called out softly, his eyes drawing back to the room. Azriel let out a relieved sigh as he rushed forward.

Axel met him almost halfway, and it was enough to almost send Azriel back on his knees. The feeling of these messy black curls beneath his fingers eased some of the worry. "Papa," Axel breathed into Azriel's chest. "I got you, my worrier; you did good," the spymaster muttered into the boy's hair. "I was trying to look for you. I was trying," Axel's lip trembled. Too little. They were too little for this. "And I should have been there sooner; I'm sorry, Ax," but the boy simply shook his head. "You're here now," he said, his tiny hands wrapped around Azriel's neck, and for a moment, Azriel just kneeled there, holding him.

Madja stepped out. A kind smile on her face. Azriel's puzzled eyes met her, and she knew that she had to put out the flames burning within the spymaster quickly, or they would all blaze in it. "Both girls are okay," she said in a comforting voice. "Y/n just needs to rest; your mother is with her." The healer reached for Azriel's cheek in a similar way Cordelia always did. "Zofie?", Azriel breathed out. "She needs you the most out of all of them now," Madja stepped aside, and Azriel let go of Axel as he pushed into the room.

The moment the dim lights cast a shadow over the shadowsinger, Nyx let go of Zofie's hand. Moving away from the bed, "Nyx being here helped her a lot," Madja said from behind, trying to earn a free pass for the boy now that Azriel was less himself than most of the time. But at that moment, he didn't even register his nephew's actions. Because all he saw was a sickly pale girl lying in bed. "Little star," he breathed as he reached out to brush some of her messy hair away from her face. He drew his fingers back momentarily because the girl was colder than any ice Azriel had ever touched.

He quickly sat down on the bed, pushing some of the covers away from her frail body and biting his teeth at the sight of her already in his shirt. He was her anchor. Empaths didn't know how to shield in the early stages. So they, in a way, hung on their lifelines—a person, an object—something that could swallow their overwhelming emotions and fill the cracks up with calmness. Azriel scooped Zofie up with one hand. The girl let out a pained grumble. Mother only knew how many suppressed emotions were clawing at her from within.

"You're okay," Azriel breathed as he moved her up and onto his chest. The moment the two of them came into full contact, Zofie let out the deepest sigh. And that was when it struck Azriel. For the very first time, he could feel the emotions pouring through him. Fear, worry, anger, and helplessness but he welcomed it all regardless. He would endure just so she could get better. Just so she would no longer have to hurt. He would do it over and over again for her. Until she was strong enough to protect herself. And even when she's older and in control, he would still never decline her request for help.

A tiny, cold finger fisted into his shirt, making Azriel look down. Here she was. His baby girl. Her golden eyes were slightly dazed, but she still held a firm gaze as she looked up at him. "Azzy," she breathed, the spymaster's lips curving upward instantly. "Hey, my little star, who dared dimming your light, huh?" Zofie's face scrunched up instantly. As if she was slowly plunging back into the events of the past few days. Then her eyes grew big. "We... had a card made for you... it," she muttered, her gaze falling into the room as she searched for Axel. If was way to sweet that that was the first thing she worried about. "I saw it. It was very pretty," Azriel muttered, right as Axel crawled onto the bed beside them. "You saw it?" Zofie's voice was barely a whisper, and Azriel could feel the worry building up within her. "You both know it would be an honor if you two called me dad or papa," Azriel said, looking at the two kids who gaped at him. "Just no father; it sounds too old-fashioned." Azriel barely managed to speak his last words as the sea of tiny libs was all over him. The spymaster wrapped both of the wings around the overly excited younglings. Savoring the sound of their squeals and giggles.

"So, we're a real family?", Zofie asked as her head hit Azriel's chest. His fingers instantly reached to twirl around the ends of her hair. Axel bit his lip as he looked at Azriel. "Mommy, papa, and us," the boy breathed, his eyes glistening, and Azriel had to blink a couple of times more so he wouldn't start crying in front of them. But Axel frowned slightly, "You do love Y/n, right?" Here was that protective thread that was never far behind. "They are mated, Ax," Zofie huffed tiredly. Azriel was about to ask how she knew that, but then she probably not only felt but also saw emotions. "So we were always meant to find each other?", Axel mused. Azriel reached out for the boy, and he wasted no time snuggling into Azriel's side. "We were always meant to be a family," the spymaster breathed, kissing both of their hands softly.

"You too can catch a cold, you know?", your voice made Azriel flinch slightly as he turned to you, already moving to get up from the patio in his mother's backyard. "You shouldn't be standing," he huffed, his shadows instantly swarming all around you. That's how it has been ever since you woke up. You had to admit at first that you needed his help to do everything. He carrying you around places. He feed you and helped you stand. You had drained so much of yourself that it had taken a toll on your body like nothing before.

"It's been weeks, Az," you breathed as his arms wrapped around your middle, taking most of the weight from your feet. "I won't get better if I just lay in bed," you grumbled. "Last time I checked, that's exactly what would happen if you stayed in bed," Azriel huffed. You twisted in his embrace. "You should be resting as well," you said, cupping his face. It all felt almost like a fever dream. It almost felt as if time had moved way too quickly. You didn't even remember how you ended up back at Cordelia's house, where you four had been living ever since. Azriel shook his head. "I can't sleep," he muttered, shaking his head. "Every time I close my eyes, all I see is you or the kids dying," you pressed your forehead against his. Letting him breathe his emotions out. "But we are all here," you mumbled, looking up at him. Azriel's face hardened. "By pure luck and all because Rhys...", "Azriel, you can't blame him forever," you sighed. That was another thing that had changed. Azriel had stepped down from his court duties. He had cut off his family completely, and with that, you had a bone to pick. "Watch me," he breathed, turning away from you, but you quickly cupped his cheek. "Make it my winter solstice gift," you muttered, "At least think about it." Sighing, you pressed your head against his chest as your arms snaked around his torso. Azriel kissed the top of your head, still weary of the nail scabs on your scalp.

"How does your head feel?" he muttered softly. It was torture watching your hazy eyes the first time you woke up. You just lay there, staring at the ceiling. No reactions. There were no signs of any awareness to your surroundings. But Azriel didn't budge, regardless. "It's okay, I still can't summon though," you muttered against his chest, savoring his heat. The morning wind wasn't as pleasant now that winter was around the corner. Snow not only covered the mountains but also in the city. "You drained yourself raw... for me," Azriel's arms squeezed around you just a tag stronger. "I'll do it all over again," you mumbled, kissing his chest right over his heart. Azriel shook his head and said, "I'll do everything so you will never have to go through anything like that ever again. Two times too many", he said softly. You knew he meant it. Meant all of his words every time he spoke them. And even more so, you knew that no matter what you said, his burden, at least for now, would not get any lighter. So you pressed yourself closer to him, pouring love through the bond, hoping to warm him from the very inside of his heart.

"No, go left," Zofie huffed, her finger pointing to the exact location where she wanted Axel to hang the ornament. Axel clapped his little wings as he looked back at his sister, who had inspected the placement, before nodding her head. "That's where I put it five minutes ago," the boy grumbled as his feet hit the wooden floor. "It was not," Zofie huffed as she continued to match different ribbons with the glass ornaments. "Females," Axel said, rolling his eyes. "I heard you," Zofie said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Hey, you two. No fighting", you said from the sofa, Azriel had practically tied you to. You knew that it was a huge deal for them. They had never celebrated the solstice properly. let alone in a loving family. "He's being rude," Zofie said, sticking her tongue out, and Axel quickly crossed his arms over his chest, "Look at what I need to deal with." You let out a chuckle. If only they knew how lucky they were to have one another when these moody swings hit. "I think you two are long overdue for a hug," you said softly, pulling the blanket off your legs as if you had triggered the alarm shadows swirled into the room, making you roll your eyes. Don't you dare, you muttered into the bond. You couldn't even see him, but you knew the smug idiot had a smirk on his face. We made a deal. You promised to lay down for the evening. You shook your head. I've been glued to the sofa for the past two hours. Get over yourself, mother hen.

"Go on, a little hug won't hurt you two," you urged the two younglings, who both huffed and puffed till they were wrapped up in one another. And the look on their faces changed. There was only happiness there. "Why do we only call grammy these days?" , Zofie tilted her head to the side, "Uncles don't visit, and we don't get to play with Nyx." A warm smile spread to your lips. Leave it to little Zofie to worry about everyone who was a part of her little world. Don't even think about it. Azriel warned you, but you quickly ushered him out of your mind.

"Papa is a bit upset with them," Gods, you will never get used to the joy of referring to Azriel as their dad. "There were some misunderstandings that involved all of us," you softly cupped both of their faces, "And because we respect Azriel's emotions, we will support his choice... for now." "So, he's brooding," Zofie stated bluntly, making you laugh a little. "I think so, sweetheart", you had conversations with them about what happened. Mother, they have been sleeping with you and Azriel ever since. Too afraid of the dark, of little sounds, of monsters that fly through the door.

You could pull yourself through the pain, but watching them suffer in the aftermath was more torturous than feeling the last bits of your power leave your body. "But...Granny said that high lady likes lemon biscuits, and it's her birthday soon," Axel said while helping Zofie tie up the knots of the colorful threads. "We should make her some and go visit them," Zofie said, clapping her hands. Her emotions were fragile these days. Azriel would cut his sulking hunts in the forest short, almost daily. Winnowing back just so she could recharge once more. I said, Don't think about it. Azriel grumbled once more. "Go, pull up the bowl. I'll come help you shortly", you smiled at the kids who had been halfway through the door before you had even finished your sentence.

A part of Azriel knew that he should have moved on some time ago. His anger had simmered down. He wasn't even mad. But sometimes disappointment was stronger than anger. He had felt neglected by them all when he was desperate to get with Elain, and he could look past that. You were a whole different story. You were his mate. Azriel had gone to hell to protect Feyre, all because she was important to Rhys. He and Cassian had almost died for her and for what?

"I knew I would find you here." As if summed, the Lord of Bloodshed stepped out in the clearing. "When have these trees grown so big?", he muttered. "Please, no small talk, or I will winnow out of here," Azriel grumbled, pulling his daggers out of the tree trunk. "It's good to see you; you know it's no fun now that I'm the funniest in the family", Cassian nudged Azriel's shoulder, but the spymaster didn't share the enthusiasm.

"How's Nesta?", Azriel watched as Cassian's face lit up at the mention of his mate. "She started showing," he muttered, his eyes filling up with proud tears. They had all been so supportive of Feyre's pregnancy. It was a family thing. Sure, the dad got the worst spells of protectiveness, but even Cassian and Azriel would find themselves growling at people they didn't trust around her. Now Azriel couldn't help but wonder if Cassian felt more vulnerable because he didn't have two sets of extra eyes looking out for the mother of his child.

"I miss you, you know," Cassian breathed, right as Azriel threw one of his daggers at his makeshift target. "Rhys is also practically going bald. Come on, man, you owe him at least one conversation." There had been times when the spymaster thought he would never pay his debts to his high lord. But that had been then. "I have nothing to tell him," Azriel grunted. "Now you're being a little bitch," Cassian said, moving to stand right in front of his brother, "They fucked with the report Rhys got. Do you seriously think that he would play with the lives of your family?"

Azriel's turned away abruptly. "We've all been in positions where we thought we'd never see our mates again, so I know that you are pissed off," Cassian pulled at Azriel's shoulder. "Fuck it; I can be mad alongside you if you want. But we are family. We talk shit out". Azriel slowly felt his walls crumbling. They had spent almost their whole lives together. For years, it had just been Cassian and him when Rhys got taken under. A choked-out cry slipped past the spymaster's lips, and Cassian didn't even waste a single moment as he wrapped Azriel in his arms.

It was the laughter that greeted him as he walked through his mother's door that, just as all the times before, set all of his worries free. Azriel stopped by the door. Closing his eyes for a second. Letting the sounds surround him. Fill in his broken parts. This was home. You were his home. Azriel had barely managed to get his muddy boots off when the most excited shriek filled his ears.

"Papa," and here it was the most beautiful thudding of tiny feet against the floor. He caught Zofie mid-jump as she moved to squish his cheeks. "Cold," she muttered at Azriel's rosy cheeks. "Been outside for a while, bug, that's all," he reassured her. She seemed seemingly pleased with the answer as she shimmied out of his grip, opting to pull him by the hand instead. The silent command was clear, so Azriel didn't even fight it.

And there was his other half of the heart. Both covered in flour from head to toe. "What happened to making cookies?", Azriel chuckled slightly. Axel hopped off the table, his hands leaving white imprints on Azriel's black clothes. The look merely lasted a moment, but the mischievous laughter that left both of the kids said it all, and within minutes, Azriel was chasing them around the kitchen. "Duck!" Axel shouted, and Zofie quickly hid beneath the table. Yet her laughter didn't die. Axel jumped off the chair, throwing the last bit of crumbly dough at Azriel before he too took shelter beneath the table.

Azriel turned his attention to you. Leaning against the counter, biting your lip, trying not to laugh. "Excuse me, miss; maybe by any chance you've seen rebels running around," he asked in his spymaster tone, making you snicker. "Two rebels?", you put your hand on your chest as Azriel approached you. "Kind sir, they could be far away from this kingdom by now," hushed giggles sounded from beneath the table. Don't call me that when kids are around. Azriel growled into your mind, making you smirk slightly. Got it, sir kink it is. You purred back right as Azriel wrapped his arms around you, spinning you around. You shrieked and giggled as you held onto his muscular arms for support. "Help, help," you pleaded, right as Azriel playfully started to nibble at your neck.

"Don't threaten, princess; help is here." Axel's little voice sounded from behind, right as another lump of dough hit Azriel in the back of his head. More giggling erupted right after as Azriel swirled back to catch a glimpse of their next move. "You all were allies; how did I not realize?" he mumbled in a half-dead tone. Scooping up a handful of flour and throwing it at the two little monkeys, who were already climbing the counter, fearlessly leaping off it and into Azriel's arms. The spymaster twirled them both around. Trying to escape their sticky hands but finding no luck there. His stomach hurt from the laughter, and for the first time in a long time, Azriel felt so alive. The nagging fears had been shoved in the back of his head, locked under the heaviest iron door. Upfront was the side of Azriel he never thought he would get to show.

The two kids huffed for air in between their giggles, and Azriel slowly lowered them down. "You two win," he muttered, watching the two of them high-fiving one another while lying on the kitchen floor breathlessly. "You got some dough here," you pointed to the side of Azriel's face. "Oh, just there, nowhere else?" he teased back, earning a shake of the head from you. You walked closer to him, picking the bigger chunks out of his hair. "Still attractive?", Azriel asked, holding onto your hips. "Yeah, not bad", you shrugged your shoulders. Azriel pulled you in quickly, brushing his lips against yours softly.

"We have dinner tomorrow with the rest of the family," he muttered quietly, making your eyes grow big, "Bumped into Cassian; he invited us. " You could tell that he was still so hesitant, but he was trying to open his heart once more for his first family. "That's amazing; we already made cookies, and a cake is sitting in the fridge." Azriel raised an eyebrow, "You made a cake?" You simply hummed, "Let's just say I knew that I was going to get you there one way or another." You shrugged, making the spymaster shake his head.

Slowly, he pushed the strand of hair away from your face. "Hey, you two," Azriel said softly. "It looks like it's bath time for you." Axel helped Zofie up, but the girl only huffed, "Just say that you want to make out with her," the girl muttered, making Azriel choke on his breath as he hit his chest a couple of times while coughing. You let out a chuckle, feeling your cheeks heating slightly. "Come on, Zo, the faster we go, the faster they will finish," Axel waved a hand in your and Azriel's direction before dragging his sister through the door.

"They are too smart for their own good," a couple of Azriel's shadows followed them through the door as well. "So, are we going to make out or what?", you asked, catching Azriel off guard slightly before he sat you back on the counter. "I'm proud of you for accepting the dinner offer," you said as you brushed your fingers through his messy hair. "I can't promise I won't growl and scowl," Azriel let out a sigh. "That's okay, I'll scratch your ear," you smiled, and Azriel instantly moved to tickle your side.

"Can I tell you a secret?", Azriel muttered against your ear. You draped your hands over his shoulders loosely, nodding your head. "But you can't tell anyone," he said in a serious tone. "Okay, what is it, Az?", you frowned slightly. Azriel tilted his head to the side, watching you for a heartbeat. You felt a burst of warmth rushing through the bond. One heartbeat. Two. "I love you," Azriel muttered, "I love you so much. You are a part of me now." You smiled at him softly, brushing the skin on his neck. "Well, I should tell you a secret too," you breathed, "I love you too, with the darkest parts of you, all of you, with no exceptions." Azriel leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, igniting the flame within you even more. "Close your eyes," the spymaster breathed against your lips. You hummed, packing his lips one more time before pulling away. Azriel felt his heart drumming against his chest.

Of course, you trusted him fully. But something about him having full control over you like that sent a shiver running down your spine. Then you felt it. Azriel gently picked up your left hand. There was a moment of stillness, and then a cold metal brushed against your skin. Your eyes snapped open right as Azriel placed a beautiful band on your finger. An oval blue sapphire was glistening in the kitchen lights. "Az...", you breathed out, your voice shaky. "I know that I should ask first, then put..." he breathed out with a chuckle, but you leaned forward, smashing your lips against his. It was way more needy and rushed. It was almost hard to see where your own emotions started and Azriel's began.

"I didn't ask," Azriel pulled away breathlessly. "You don't have to; yes, it's a yes," you muttered. The glistening light in your eyes was enough to make him melt. He was yours in so many ways. In ways, even he still didn't know about. "Let's call it an early mating ceremony gift," he muttered, "Plus, it will keep other males from looking at you for too long." "Az," you breathed out, shaking your head and looking down at your hand as your eyes filled up with tears. "Thank you for allowing me into the middle of your darkness," you muttered. As a tear slipped down your cheek, Azriel carefully brushed it away, "Thank you for shining your light upon me, love."

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @stressed-reader

[keikikait]

ᴋɴᴜᴄᴋʟᴇ ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛ (ᴀ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀꜱ ᴇᴘɪʟᴏɢᴜᴇ)

this is the epilogue to my strangers story, which you can find on my masterlist

pairing: gojo x f!reader (not au, gojo is 29, reader is early-mid 20’s)

word count: 1.4k

summary: after your fight with gojo, he goes to your apartment to explain himself

warnings: TW: DEATH, talk of stalking, angst??????

a note: this is the epilogue

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

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“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch I would fall in love with you faster.”

“Fine. Go with him. See if I fucking care. You’ll come crawling back to me after you realise he isn’t any different.”

Ever since you left him, and slammed the door in his face, Gojo hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

Gojo contemplated reaching out to you. To talk to you at work instead of just ignoring you, but he can’t do it. He wants you to grovel, to beg on your knees for his forgiveness, to admit you need him to protect you. Soon enough, he realised that you weren’t coming back. You were moving on and with Nanami of all people? You were supposed to be his, the toy he abandoned when he got bored. He was always content knowing that you’d always be on the top shelf when he wanted you again, free from the reach of any other man.

Gojo's heart, a tempest of turbulent feelings, refused to relinquish its claim on you. You were his, not Nanami’s. He felt something rising within him, a possessive urge to get you back, whether you liked it or not. Yet, the ache of unreciprocated longing gnawed at his resolve, leaving him suspended in a realm of uncertainty. He decided, after a while, to begin following you.

You never noticed him. You didn’t look around much. You felt safe walking alone through the streets of Tokyo, never turning around to see if anyone was following you. You were naïve, just how he liked you. Part of him knew this was wrong, to stalk his ex and peep into her windows when she wasn’t looking, but he was just protecting you! What if you got hurt? What if Nanami decided to hurt you? You were nothing without him, you couldn’t stand up for yourself. You needed Gojo, and he needed you.

He watched from the shadows as Nanami rejected you, claiming you weren’t girlfriend material. Gojo agreed, to an extent, but it did break his heart to watch you cry as you made your way home. He was so focused on Nanami, on the way he casually went back to eating as if you never existed, that he didn’t follow you home while you cried. You were vulnerable, and he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to start walking after you.

Gojo almost confronted Nanami. Almost. He thought it over and realised how hypocritical he would sound. He was angry at Nanami for rejecting you, yet he did the same thing. Gojo held your heart in his hands, promising he would take care of it, only to squish it under his boots when you pissed him off. He didn’t want you, not in the way you wanted him, but he hated to think about you with somebody else.

He grounded himself and began the walk to your apartment. Gojo was, although he would never admit it, miserable without you. He missed his baby, his girl, his doll, the one who would greet him eagerly in the evenings with a homecooked meal and a kiss. He missed holding you in his arms as you watched a cooking show, he missed the peaceful look on your face as you fell asleep in his arms.

Did he love you? Or did he love the idea of you in his head?

Emotions surged through Gojo’s body, filling him to the brim with a turbulent mix of longing and resentment. Suguru’s treachery had left him feeling broken and discarded, left behind to rot, and after that day he vowed to never love again. Love breeds hope, and hope breeds eternal misery. He started to resent himself, after all, he was the reason Suguru would never come back home. Gojo didn’t sleep for months after Suguru left. He waited up for him, hoping Suguru would come back and apologise, but he never did. He was so alone without Suguru, and he was so alone without you, too.

As Gojo nears your apartment building, he starts to realise that he and Suguru were always alike. They both abandoned someone they cared about, and Gojo wondered if Suguru felt as guilty as he did. Did Suguru miss him? Did Suguru ever love him the way you do?

He enters the code into the gate, pushes the door open, and walks up the stairs towards your apartment. He didn’t know what he was going to say to you. He couldn’t profess his love, it didn’t feel right, but maybe if he lied to you, you would stay. Maybe if he lied and told you he loved you, you would be naïve and gullible enough to believe him. 

He makes it up the last flight of stairs, heading down the long corridor. For the first time in a long time, he feels anxiety. He wants you to stay with him. He needs you. Did you need him anymore? He feels so powerless and weak, and he hates it. He shouldn’t be doing this, he should just move on and find another girl to toy with, but he couldn’t. Gojo, deep down, wished you two had never even met, because he was having a hard time forgetting and moving on. Or did he get you confused with Suguru? If Suguru hadn’t broken his heart, would he love you?

He turns the corner and stops in his tracks.

Your door is wide open.

Gojo knew you weren’t stupid enough to leave your door open. You were naïve, yes, but you weren’t dumb. He steps closer, and suddenly, all at once, his world comes crashing down.

You’re lying there, in your doorway, surrounded by a pool of your own blood. Your throat is slashed, practically ripped out, with claw marks decorating your legs, arms, and torso, as if you were mauled by wolves. 

For the first time since his fateful encounter with Suguru, Gojo cries. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions, he drops to his knees, desperately reaching out to grasp you. With trembling hands, he pulls you close to his chest, clinging to the faint hope that somehow, against all odds, you might still be alive. He pushes your hair away from your face, matted with blood, and he cups your cheeks, shouting at you to wake up. To be his again.

He grabs you, holding you close, and notices that your heart is missing, ripped out of your chest, a gaping hole in its wake. 

As he holds you in his arms, fingers stained with the crimson hue of blood, fear grips his heart, a visceral reminder of the fragility of life. He holds your head up gently, terrified that if he were to let go, it would slip away and tumble off of your shoulders. His silent cries reverberate through the air, echoing the profound loss and longing that consumes him. The mere act of holding you close becomes an act of defiance against fate, a desperate attempt to defy the cruel hand that has torn you apart.

He pulls out his phone, his hands shaking as he dials 119, blood smearing on his phone and causing it to almost slip from his grasp. He holds the phone to his ear as he looks down at you, surrounded by blood, yet still so beautiful. You look almost at peace, as if in your final moments you were content with dying. Did you think of him in your final moments? 

As his gaze followed the widening circle of blood, he noticed something else in the periphery of his vision. It was a familiar sight, something akin to Megumi's Shikigami, its form wavering and shifting, almost as if it were made of smoke. It circled you, its ethereal eyes seeming to study your body intently.

In the haunting darkness, the wolves that had stalked your every step, their taunts echoing like eerie whispers, were cursed spirits, bound to the shadows. And Gojo, in all of his strength and power, had kept them at bay for so long. His mere presence was strong enough to protect you from the darkness that sought to consume you.

As he dialed another number, Nanami’s, he was certain now, he had fallen in love with you. He didn’t want to admit it then, he was too scared to fall in love, he didn’t want you to abandon him, to toss him aside as effortlessly as Suguru did. He had spent so long thinking that his fate was bound to Suguru, intertwined in the stars, that he didn't think about how he was treating you, stringing you along as he waited for Suguru to return to him.

He was so caught up in how he had failed Suguru that he didn't realise he had failed you, too.

Nanami answers the phone after the third ring, and as Gojo fumbles to get the words out, he realises he isn't the strongest after all.

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★taglist: @heijihattorisgf, @strxxberries, @sadmonke, @mo0nforme, @whereflowerswenttodie, @mwtsxri, @tuliptoot, @certainduckanchor, @softhrted, @mystarlightswiftt, @kaizestar (italics mean i couldn't tag you)

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable IX - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst, physical torture, violence

a/n: guys, I’m so sorry this part took a long time to come out. I hope this chapter is worth the wait! Part 10 will be the final chapter/epilogue :)

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part IX

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Days might’ve gone by…days…months…years. Time was an elusive being to you. Had been since the moment the mating bond had snapped between you and Azriel. Since that one last second you got to have with him—your mate. 

Koschei kept you strung up in chains, your wrist shackled above your head, your feet barely touching the floor. Your entire body ached with pain. Blood crusted on the white slip he had you put in. 

When he had shadowed you back to his small cabin on the lake, you had assumed he would turn you into one of the swans, like he had with the other girls. But apparently, none of you had ever learned the full story. 

Vassa had certainly never mentioned this part. Not that you blamed her. You wouldn’t want to talk about it either. How he liked to beat the girls he captured, break them in, before transforming them into one of his pets—forever tied to this lake. 

You didn’t want to give up but it was getting harder and harder each day. But you had to. You couldn’t let that day in the clearing be the last time you got to see Azriel…to see your mate. 

A few tears leaked from the corner of your eyes at the thought of him, of how he must be feeling with you gone. Everything you both had wished for had come true only to last for a mere second in time before the universe tore you apart once more. It was cruel. It was… no word could come close to describing it. It couldn’t be the end of your story. You couldn’t let it be. 

The door to the room you were confined in opened and you whimpered at the sight of the sorcerer. 

“Oh, little pet,” he purred, “Are you not happy to see me? And here I thought we were finally making progress.” 

“Fuck you,” you groaned, swaying on your shackles as you tried to distance yourself from him. 

He gave you a serpentine smile. “The stubborn ones are so much more fun to break.”  

You glared at him as he stalked over to you, a cup of water in his hands. You had kicked and bucked the first few times but after all of the torture he put you through the past hours, you had no energy left to do anything but dangle there. 

“Now, are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?” He held up the water to your mouth but you twisted your head away, slamming your lips shut. “Ah, the hard way it is.”

Excitement filled his eyes as he landed a punch straight in your gut, knocking the air right out of your lungs. You gasped and he grabbed your chin roughly, squeezing the sides of your mouth and making it impossible to snap your jaw shut. 

He poured the water into your mouth but you spit it back up, right on his face. You knew it was full of faebane because this was the third time he had come in here to give it to you.

He growled as he wiped away your spit before slapping your cheek hard enough that your head whipped to the side and blood swelled in your mouth. You heaved, letting it trickle down your jaw and onto the floor. 

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to face him again, hooking his fingers over your bottom teeth and yanking your jaw open once again. This time when he poured the water into your mouth, he quickly slammed it shut and plugged your nose.

“Drink it,” he ordered. 

You glared at him defiantly but it did nothing to help you as you ran out of air and choked the water down. He let go of you and you greedily sucked in air. 

“Good girl,” he grinned. “See how much easier it is when you listen to me?” 

You said nothing. You couldn’t. Not as the faebane coursed through your body, extinguishing all the magic that had started to replenish as the last batch wore off. Not as your wounds and bruises stopped healing and pain slammed into your body. 

The faebane he liked to give you was partially diluted. Just enough to let it wear off quicker so you had time to heal in between his sessions but not enough to fully heal or get your magic back. He liked working with a clean canvas but didn’t let your magic linger enough to rid you of pain entirely.

Koschei circled around your hanging body and you heard him fiddling behind you. The sound of leather in his palm had you squirming.

“Now, where were we?”

The crack of the whip against your back rippled through your body and you couldn’t fight the scream that erupted from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push your consciousness into the deepest crevices of your mind, where you might find the tiniest bit of solace as one name constantly repeated in your thoughts.

Azriel.

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“I’m not waiting any longer,” Azriel growled at his High Lord. “I’m leaving. Now.”

Both Azriel and Rhysand looked worse for wear. Rhys’s face was littered with bruises and cuts and Azriel was sure he looked no better. But he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that his mate was in the hands of that fucking sorcerer and he was going to rip that male apart limb by limb for ever thinking he could take her.

“We need to think this through, Az,” Feyre pleaded. “If you rush in, you’ll end up dead and be of no help to Y/n.”

Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. These past two days had been hell. Once Rhys had misted the Prince in the clearing, he had winnowed the three of them back to Velaris—to start planning their rescue mission.

He hadn’t even gotten two words out before Azriel pounced on him. He could barely remember those first few hours after she had been taken. All he knew was the anger he felt—the rage. The mating bond snapping into place. The bargain breaking. And her…his love being taken away from him, his heart and soul with her. 

And Rhys, the fucking asshole, had been at the center of his anger. For making him agree to that bargain with him in the first place. For making him stay away from her—his mate.

It had taken Cassian, Mor and Feyre to pull them apart that day. 

He had stopped starting fights with Rhys but his anger still pulsed under his skin, ready to strike at a moment's notice. 

"We've had plenty of time to think,” Azriel snapped at his High Lady, causing Rhys’s head to shoot up with a warning glare. 

“Watch your tone,” Rhys bit back at him.

“Fuck you, Rhys!” Azriel slammed his scarred hands down on the desk between them. “I’m going and I swear to the Gods if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your throat out!” 

“No, fuck you, Azriel!” Rhys yelled, standing up to his full height. “Stop acting as if you’re the only one affected by this! She was my sister long before she was your mate! Maybe if you hadn’t gone behind my back—” 

“Maybe if you hadn’t made us make that stupid bargain with you in the first place, we would’ve never had to! I could’ve had centuries with her. You stole all those years from us!” 

The second the bond snapped between him and his mate, Azriel swore he lived a whole lifetime. A whole lifetime they hadn’t been afforded. It had all flashed right before his eyes. His mate…His beautiful mate. She deserved so much better than this and as soon as he got her back in his arms, he would give her the whole world. He'd tear the sun from the sky if it would make her happy. 

“Guys, stop! This fighting between the two of you has only made things worse! Fight all you want once we get Y/n back, but you need to focus. Both of you. For her sake,” Feyre snapped.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise of frustration. His shadows swarmed around him like a monsoon—screaming his mate’s name over and over again in agony. “You don’t understand, Feyre. Every single time I feel her…during those tiny moments she slips through to the bond…all I feel is her pain. He’s torturing her. How am I supposed to sit here while my mate is being tortured?” 

He turned away from them, unable to look at Rhys any longer as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He had completely and utterly failed his mate. Had let her get into the arms of an enemy. This was all his fault…all of it. She would’ve never even ran away from Velaris if he had never tried to move on with Elain last year. He put those thoughts in her head and there was nothing he regretted more in his life. He had never wanted Elain. He had never even wanted Mor. He had tried, when he thought Rhys’s sister was off limits, to move on. But he had never, ever stopped loving her. He had never felt anything for anyone other than her. 

And she had been ripped away from him before they could even have a life together. 

“That’s it,” Rhys whispered from behind him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“What?” Azriel snarled, whipping around. 

“You said you can feel her sometimes—through the bond, right?”

Azriel nodded his head, crossing his arms. 

Rhys stroked his jaw in thought. “He must be drugging her with faebane. But not consistently. There must be small moments when it wears off before he gives her another dose. That’s why you can feel her sometimes.” 

“Where are you going with this?” Feyre asked.

“We can use the mating bond to tell us when to act,” Rhys explained. “When Azriel can feel her, we know her magic is regenerating. We should stop looking at this as battle and more like a stealth mission. We bait Koschei into coming to the water’s edge the moment Azriel feels my sister down the bond—act like we are declaring war. Keep him distracted long enough for her to get back most of her power. Meanwhile, Azriel can slip into the cabin, release her from whatever binds he has her in and get her out.” 

“What about the wards around the cabin? No one can winnow in or out. Even Az’s shadows might set it off.”

“I’ll have to get inside without using any magic,” Azriel said. “I can do it. I can get to her. As long as you keep him distracted and buy me enough time.” 

“Helion has given Y/n some lessons on setting and breaking wards,” Rhys added. “Once she sees you, once she realizes she’s being saved, she can start working on breaking them so she can winnow the two of you out.” 

“And you trust that she’ll be able to do that?” Feyre asked. 

Rhys let out a long sigh. Azriel knew how much it would pain him to have to force his sister to save herself. Rhys had always been the one doing the heavy lifting for their family, always keeping his sister as protected as he could, especially after she almost died. But he couldn’t save her this time. 

He’d need to have faith in her.

“She can do it,” Azriel declared, full of confidence in his mate’s abilities. “She is not that little girl in the woods anymore, Rhys. You’ve trained her. I’ve trained her. She is more than capable of this.”

“I know she’s not,” Rhys whispered. “She hasn’t been. Not for a long time. And I’m sorry, Azriel, I truly am. You’re right. I should’ve never forced you to make that bargain.”

“Save your apology for when I get my mate back,” Azriel spat out. Maybe it was unfair, but he was not ready to accept any apologies from Rhys. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

If their plan worked, Azriel would have his mate back in his arms, back in Velaris, safe and sound by tonight. It had to work. It had to work because there was no way he could go through another sleepless night in an empty bed. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs; he simply could not live without her. He would either be back in Velaris tonight with his mate or six feet under because he wasn’t leaving this damn lake without her. 

The Valkyries are ready, Az. 

Rhysand’s voice in his head caused his fists to clench. He was not any closer to forgiving him than he was yesterday but that was a problem for a different day. Right now they’d have to work together to get his mate back and nothing would stand in his way, certainly not his own pride. 

The plan was simple in theory. They had decided to use Koschei’s weakness against him—females. Some of the Valkyries were willing to help and he trusted their training. If things went correctly, they wouldn’t even need to fight. 

Azriel was crouched, hiding and waiting for the mating bond to begin singing again. He hated that he couldn’t just rush in and take her. Hated that she was likely being tortured as they sat out here waiting for the right moment to begin their plan. Azriel was used to having to wait around like this. It was a part of his job, after all. But right now, it was excruciating. 

But finally… finally he felt it. That tiny spark. That gold thread reforming. 

It’s time, Rhys. 

Okay, wait for the signal. 

They had to lure Koschei out. He couldn’t see though because he was waiting behind the cabin on the other side of the lake, ready to fly to one of the landings so he could sneak his way inside. 

Alright, we’ve got his attention. Good luck, Azriel. Bring my sister home but make sure you come home too.

He couldn’t promise his brother that. He wasn’t leaving here without her, no matter what happened.

I will. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A noise caused you to look up despite the pain the movement caused. Your eyes widened in surprise as a shadowed figure stood in the doorway, blue light emitting from their form. Your vision was going in and out of focus, blurring everything. You blinked one…twice…

The person finally stepped into the light. 

“Az?” You wheezed out.

Azriel swore and rushed forward until he was right in front of you, holding your face in his hands. He was speaking but you couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in your ears. You must be hallucinating. There was no way Azriel was really here in front of you. It was not possible…

“—can you hear me, baby? Fuck, we’ve got to get you out of these chains.”

“Az,” you rasped again, “Is…is this real? Are you real?”

His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, the emotion swimming in them threatening to tear your heart right out of your chest. Pain, rage, desperation, guilt. Your eyes flooded with tears of relief.

“I’m real. I’m here with you, baby,” he said, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m going to get you out of these chains, okay? And then I’m going to get you out of here.” 

“H-how?” you stuttered out because you had no idea how he was standing here in this cabin when it seemed like an impossible feat. 

“Later. I'll explain later. Do you think you can start trying to take down the wards around this place?”

"I'll try," you whispered but your magic had barely started regenerating. The wounds on your back weren't even beginning to heal yet.

The sound of a door slamming open rang through the house. You let out a whimper and Azriel’s eyes widened in fear as he looked at you but not fear for himself…fear for you. 

“Fuck, we’ve got to go. Now,” he said, frantically. 

The fear in his eyes faded to cold, hard rage and he grabbed the chains above your head and yanked them apart with his bare hands. You collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain, your legs unable to hold you. Azriel caught you on the way down, kneeling with you.

“I’ve got you, babygirl,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” 

You could still feel the wounds on your back bleeding, some ripping open as you curled in towards Azriel. Your head was still pounding, your body still in agony. Azriel wrapped his arms around you and helped you stand up, letting you lean your entire weight against him. Stomping footsteps were coming down the hallway, almost to the room you were being kept in.

“We need to get out of here,” he was frantically whispering, his hands holding you by the upper arms, your wrists still in cuffs with a bit of the chain attached. 

You stood on shaky legs, raising your head to see Koschei standing in the doorway, his face twisted into a grin that sent chills down your spine.

“Az!”

Azriel twisted around, his wings flaring out protectively to block you just as Koschei sent a blast of dark magic careening your way. It came at the two of you so fast, Azriel was unable to throw up a shield.

You were able to yank Azriel behind a stack of crates just as the wave of darkness clipped his wing. He let out a cry of pain, his entire body tensing as the darkness ripped through tendon and bone. You nearly cried out with him as the wing that was hit fell limp.

“Did you think you could fool me with your little plan, shadowsinger?” Koschei purred out as the two of you hid behind the crates. “Did you think I’d let you steal my pet? You’re a fool!”

Despite the agony he was in, Azriel twisted the two of you around, covering your whole body with his. Another blast of darkness caused the crates in front of you to explode to pieces, sending splinters of wood flying that pierced through any exposed skin and you let out a tiny scream of fear. 

Azriel pulled you up and helped you run further back in the room, unable to leave with Koschei blocking the door. Another blast of magic hit the both of you just as you ducked behind a rack of the weapons and tools Koschei had been using to torture you with. 

You cried out in pain, your jaw smacking against the floor with a sickening crunch. Blood filled your mouth as you pushed yourself up, your whole body aching, turning to make sure Azriel was okay. 

But Azriel had taken the brunt of the hit, shielding your body as much as he could. A deep laceration cut across his torso, blood seeping over his leathers. His body was tense, his wing still limp on the floor. You knew he was holding back his cries of pain for your sake. 

The sorcerer strided into the room, leisurely, as if this was at most a minor inconvenience to him. Darkness seeped from his figure, tendrils running along the floor towards the two of you. 

“I’m going to distract him,” Azriel whispered to you. “You need to make a run for it. The Valkyries will be waiting for you, okay? They’ll help get you home.”

“No,” you cried out, clinging to the front of his leathers. “I’m not leaving you behind, Azriel!”

Azriel stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re going to have to, princess. I need you to get out of here, do you hear me? Get out of here and go as far away as you possibly can. The others will find you, I promise.”

Tears filled your eyes as he held your face with such care and tenderness. His own eyes were filled with that same cold rage and a heavy resolve. You shook your head rapidly.

“I’m not leaving you, Azriel,” you repeated. 

“Why don’t you come on out, shadowsinger?” Koschei called out, his voice filled with amusement. “You can fight me for the girl. I’ll even let you make the first move.” 

Azriel was the most powerful warrior you knew but even he would be no match for a Death God. Facing Koschei would mean certain death and by the way Azriel was staring at you, he knew that. His eyes traced over your entire face as if he were committing it to his memory. 

“I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispered to you, his thumbs stroking away your tears. “I’m sorry for ever making that bargain that kept me away from you but I want you to know that even after all those years, it has always—will always—be you that I love. You were my first and only love and I’m so sorry that I can’t give you the life you deserve. I will find you in the next one, I promise, even if I have to crawl my way out of hell to get back to you. Even if I have to tear apart the universe, I will find you. You are my mate and even death can’t take that away from us. I love you. I will always love you.”

“Azriel,” you choked out, your fingers tightening on his leathers, but he simply placed his hands over yours and lightly tore them from him. “Az, you can’t—”

Azriel cut you off, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. A kiss full of love and despair. You tasted your salty tears through it, tears that kept pouring at the realization that this was the very first kiss the two of you shared that didn’t cause him any pain.

And it would be your last. 

Azriel stood up as much as he could, his right wing still dragging along the floor. Bruises were appearing on his jaw, blood still poured from the wound on his chest. 

“Azriel, no!” 

You reached out for him, to yank him back, but he stepped away, exposing himself to Koschei.

“Look at you,” Koschei said with a grin, “So ready to die for your love. I’m going to enjoy killing you in front of your mate.”

“Fuck you,” Azriel snarled as he spat out some blood. “If I’m dying here then I’m dragging you to hell with me.” 

Shadows exploded from Azriel in a swirl of never ending darkness that launched itself towards Koschei. But Koschei’s own darkness seemed to absorb it and grow in size before he sent it careening back to Azriel. It burned through the blue shield Azriel had thrown up and knocked straight into him, sending him flying through the room until he collided with the back wall which nearly buckled under the force. 

You screamed out for him, trying to stand but falling once again. You were dehydrated, starved, and beaten within an inch of your life but you pushed your body as much as you could, using the edge of the table to help you stand as Koschei stalked towards your mate.

Azriel had wanted you to disable the wards....If you could do that, if you could tear them down, you could try winnowing to Azriel so the both of you could winnow away before Koschei killed either of you. You were wheezing as you forced yourself to stand and concentrate. You had to do this. You had to get Azriel out of here.

Koschei descended on him once again and they began a battle of shadows and darkness. You could hardly keep track of either of them as they began to disappear and reappear in other places with their shadows, each taking shots at each other. You winced at every noise of their magic colliding, winced at every brutal hit Azriel took from the Death God. 

You could feel more of your magic renewing itself, the open wounds on your back finally starting to heal. As more and more pain wore off, you focused your energy into tearing down the wards, trying to drown out the sound of the fighting in the room for now. 

It was like an intricate spider web of silver light. One you'd have to disentangle carefully to not trigger. You had no idea what sorts of traps lay in the magic around this place. So strand by strand, piece by piece, you worked on taking it apart. It just had to be enough, enough to give you a small window of opportunity. 

You heard Azriel cry out and your focus slipped for a second. You frantically looked over your shoulder and screamed his name as Koschei slammed him into the ground a few yards away. His condition had worsened, his face had gone pale from all the bloodloss, less shadows seemed to be swirling around him as his magic weakened from all the use. You had to hurry. 

“Go,” he rasped out, glancing your way. “Y/n, go—run!”

But you wouldn’t…couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him to face this alone. 

You tried to remember everything from your lessons with Helion on spellcleaving. Tried to remember how to spot what strand to pull and when, as if the ward was a symphony of sorts and you were playing its violin. One after the other. Twisting and pulling each and every way until finally… finally, you were able to carve out a small hole. But it needed to be bigger. Big enough to winnow through.

Suddenly, something sharp struck within your chest and you fell to your knees in pain, losing your concentration. You clutched at your chest, your heart feeling like it was tearing itself into two. A feeling of dread and terror washed over you when you realized the mating bond that was beginning to fray as life was being sucked from Azriel. Another stab of agony made you crumble all the way to the ground, crying out.

You looked up to see Azriel on his knees in the center of the room. His breathing was heavy and slow, he was covered in his own blood, his leather armor torn to pieces and bruises decorated his beautiful face. His wings were slumped on the ground, the right one still nearly shredded. And above him stood the Death God, his darkness wrapped around your mate's throat, ready to squeeze the remaining life out of him. 

Time seemed to pause in that minute—like the whole world was about to collapse in on itself. The breath was sucked right from your lungs. The very fiber of your being was crying at the sight of your mate on death's door, ripping itself apart as you felt his pain like it was your own. Your hand inched on the ground towards Azriel as you weakly called out his name. 

His head turned slightly, his eyes widening as he realized you hadn’t ran away like he had hoped you did. That you were still here with him. He shook his head at you, unable to speak, trying to will you to get up and make a run for it before it was too late. But you would die here with him, because no part of you wanted to live without him. 

They always say your life flashes before your eyes when you're on the brink of death. 

But that is not what happened. 

Instead, a life you never lived did. 

A private mating ceremony with Azriel, declaring your love for each other as a priestess tied a ribbon around both your hands, linking you forever. Azriel painstakingly building a small cottage for you on the edge of Velaris with his own hands just because the ones you toured weren’t like the one you had dreamt of. A life where you and Azriel were together, mated and married, living in that cottage on the outskirts of Velaris. You and Azriel on a balcony watching starfall as he gently placed a hand on your round belly. Azriel with his arms wrapped around you, pressing kisses to your neck as you watched two children who resembled the two of you running through the tall grass in the meadow behind your home. 

A whole life that they two of you could've had. A life that was stolen from you because of a bargain made three hundred years ago. A life you would never get to live because this would be your ending. Two lovers torn apart for centuries, finally able to be together as they wished only to met their demise before their life together even began. 

No.

No.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, crawling on your hands and knees towards your mate.

No.

This would not be your ending. You wouldn't allow it. No, too much had been stolen from the two of you and this...this was not how your story together would end. 

You channeled all your magic, pulling from the depths of your soul, pulling from parts of yourself you didn't even know existed, all the way down to the core of your being. You were the Princess of Night—a child of night and shadow, for Gods’ sake. A child born with the darkside of the moon in her. A child blessed with magic. You pulled and pulled at your darkness until it was pouring out of you, seeping from your skin and bones. 

It lurched forward and slammed into the Death God, pushing him away from Azriel—away from your mate. 

Death would not have him today because he was yours. 

Azriel fell forward onto his hands, gasping for air. You stood up, limping over to Azriel and standing in front of him, glaring at Koschei. You didn’t have any armor on, still in the tattered night gown with your wrists shackled together, didn’t even have a weapon, but you had your magic back and it would have to be enough. 

Koschei chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off. Although he had brought Azriel to his knees, the Death God hadn’t escaped without injuries of his own, a testiment to Azriel’s power. 

“You know,” Koschei said, striding towards you. “I thought we’d have more time together—you and I. But it seems like you’re more trouble than you’re worth, child. So now, I shall end you and your mate. Hm, two mates dying together, how romantic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, your darkness curling around your form. Azriel was weakly calling out your name from behind you, his hand reaching to grab you so he could push you away but you didn’t let him. 

“You know, this is the most excitement I’ve had in a long time. I’m feeling rather charitable so I’ll offer you this—become one of my swans and I’ll let your mate go.”

Azriel let out a growl from behind you that nearly shook the room but you stepped forward, as if considering it. Koschei’s body relaxed, thinking the fight was over, like you hoped he would. 

But the darkness that was curling around you shot forward like a chain and wrapped itself around his neck before he could deflect it. You yanked on it, causing him to choke as he fell to his knees—in the same exact position he had Azriel in before. 

His hands clawed at the darkness but you didn’t let up, not for a second. Not as that life you dreamed about replayed in your mind over and over again. Not as you thought of Azriel, your mate. No, you wouldn’t let up. You sent all your hatred, all of your anger into that darkness. 

Your darkness spread around the Death God and started shoving its way into him from all orifices, his ears, his mouth. Everywhere until he was being consumed by it. 

“You should’ve never laid a hand on my mate,” you growled at the Death God who was gasping for air and then you yanked your rope of darkness tighter and tighter—ignoring the agony you felt as your magic burned through you until your well was drained entirely. 

Koschei’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped over finally—crashing to the floor. He…he wasn’t dead. You could still hear his faint heartbeat but he was out cold. You let out a breath of relief.

“P-princess…” 

You whirled around as Azriel rasped your name. His hazel eyes met yours for a second, blinking lazily before they closed and he fell to the ground. You let out a cry of alarm and rushed for him, falling to the ground next to him. You wrapped your arms around his limp body, pulling him into your lap. His breathing was labored, heavy. His heartbeat barely audible.

“Azriel,” you cried, brushing some hair from his face. “Come on, baby. Don’t—you can’t…you can’t do this to me. Wake up, please!”

His eyes blinked open for a second and some of your tears fell on his cheeks. You pressed a hand to the deepest wound on his torso, trying to stop some of the bleeding. 

“H-hey, princess,” Azriel choked out, a soft smile on his lips, still in a haze. 

“Hey, shadowsinger,” you whispered, smiling at him weakly. 

“You’re…,” he coughed, a bit of blood dribbling from his lips. He was in bad shape. You needed to get him to a healer. Now. “You’re touching me.” 

“I am,” you choked on your own sobs, running your hand down his face. You tried to reach out to your brother through your mind. You didn’t have enough magic left to winnow the both of you out of here. 

Rhys…Rhys, please, I need you! 

“Y-you’re touching me,” Azriel repeated, his eyes closing. “And i-it feels like…heaven.”

You couldn’t help the bittersweet laugh that escaped as you wiped at the tears still pouring down your cheeks. 

Dove, I’m here! Are you okay? Where is Azriel?

“Az, I need you to stay awake, okay? Can you open your eyes for me? Please, baby, just for a little longer.”

He’s here with me but he’s in bad shape, Rhys. I don’t have any magic left. I can’t get us out of here. Please…I don’t know what to do.

“Mm…‘mm so tired,” Azriel slurred out. 

“I know, baby, but you’ve got to stay awake. Just for a bit and then you can rest as long as you want to, okay?” 

I’m coming, dove. Hold on. 

You let out a sob as Azriel’s eyes shut again and his breathing slowed. “No, you can’t do this! You can’t leave me, Az. Not when I finally have you. Come on, baby, wake up!” 

Darkness swirled around the cabin and for a second, you thought Koschei had woken up but you sobbed even harder as your brother finally emerged from it. Rhys glanced at the passed out Death God before he saw you holding Azriel on the floor. 

“Rhys, please! Please, he needs a healer,” you cried.

Your brother’s eyes widened at the sight of his shadowsinger. He rushed forward, falling to his knees beside you.

“Let me take him,” your brother whispered. You didn’t want to let your mate go but you knew you couldn’t lift him. “It’s okay, dove. Let me help him.”

You passed Azriel over to him, watching your brother take your mate into his arms and lift him off the floor. You stood on shaky legs, your own vision beginning to blacken as the exhaustion of all the magic use finally caught up to you. The last thing you remembered was Rhys winnowing the two of you to some makeshift camp away from the lake and crying out for Azriel before darkness consumed you. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

One week later

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The sound of the door opening stirred you from your slumber. You sat up with a groan, your back aching because of the way you had fallen asleep—hunched over in a chair, next to Azriel’s bed where he still lied unconscious, as he had been since the day he’d help you escape from Koschei’s grasp. 

You blinked the sleep from your eyes, taking notice of your brother in the doorway. He hesitantly stepped inside the room, closing the door shut behind him softly. You hadn’t spoken to him since you had woken up a week ago. Not when he was part of the reason for all of this, for ever making Azriel stay away from you. 

And he knew he deserved your resentment and had kept away for the most part. But you noticed how sometimes after falling asleep you’d wake up with a blanket thrown around your shoulders that smelled like him or there’d be food waiting for you on the bedside table that you knew came from him. 

You grabbed Azriel’s hand, squeezing it lightly. You felt comforted by his warmth. Madja wasn’t able to tell how long it would take for Azriel to heal. He had taken a lot of damage, all of it mostly internal because of Koschei’s magic, and that was taking far longer to heal. 

You were so scared he’d never wake up. So scared that you never left his bedside. You'd sit here for the rest of your life if you had to. 

Rhysand was staring down at Azriel’s limp body, his eyes swimming with tears. You could see the guilt he felt written all over him. He’d almost lost someone he’d considered his brother because of that stupid bargain he’d made him make. 

He came around the side of the bed until he was standing beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Part of you wanted to cringe away from his touch but another part also just really needed him as a brother right now. 

“I am so sorry, dove,” he whispered. “Making Azriel make that bargain with me is something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry I kept you away from your mate. I’m so sorry for ever thinking it was my right to control who you loved. I understand if you never want to talk to me again—if you hate me now.”  

A moment of silence passed before you stood and looked at him. “Rhys, you fucked up. You really did. I know you were traumatized after mother died—after I almost did, too. What you did has caused me and Azriel so much pain and maybe I’ll be mad at you for it for the rest of our lives but I Rhys, you’re my brother. I could never hate you.”

A small sob escaped from his lips before Rhys pulled you into a warm embrace. You crumbled into your brother’s arms, seeking a type of comfort only he could provide. Your own tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, dove. I’ll keep apologizing until I can’t speak. When Azriel wakes up, whatever you guys want, it’s yours—all of it.” 

“I’m so scared, Rhysie,” you cried, burying your face in his chest. “I’m so scared he’s not going to wake up. I’m so scared I’ll never get to talk to him again…” 

“Azriel is the strongest person I know,” Rhys whispered into your hair. “He’s going to wake up, dove. As long as you’re here, he will fight his way through whatever is keeping him from you. He’s going to wake up.”

“I never even got to tell him how much he means to me. I never told him how much I love him or how ready I am to accept the mating bond. I never…I never—”

You fell into a fit of sobs again, unable to even speak. Rhys held you tightly, stroking your back. 

“He knows, dove. He knows how much you love him. And you’ll get the chance to tell him, okay? You will.” 

But all you could do was pray to the Gods that you would get that chance. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A few more agonizing days passed by. Days that seemed longer than the span of your entire life. Days spent next to Azriel’s bedside, praying each and every morning that this would be the day he finally woke. You didn’t lose hope, you couldn’t because just the thought of him never waking up would send you into a spiral so deep, there’d be no pulling you out of it. 

You let out a sigh and dropped your head into your hands. 

Is this how he felt while you’d been chained in Koschei’s cabin?

You still felt so guilty…guilty that you hadn’t trusted Azriel’s reassurances that there was nothing between him and Elain, guilty that you had fallen for the Prince’s cruel trap. If you had just trusted your mate, he wouldn’t be lying here after nearly dying for you. 

“P-prin…p-princess?” 

Your heart leaped to your throat and you looked up so rapidly, you almost cracked your neck. Azriel blinked at you in a daze. His eyes held confusion as he glanced around, realizing he was in his room back at the House of Wind. His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, glowing gold in the soft faelight. 

“Azriel,” you breathed out, reaching forward to grab his hand. “You’re…you’re awake.” 

“I-I think I am,” he said, his words still slurring a bit. “But you’re touching me and I’m not in pain and normally this usually only happens in my dreams.”

You smiled through the tears sliding down your face, tenderly cupping his cheek. 

“You’re awake,” you replied. “You’re awake and I’m here, touching you and it doesn’t hurt because the bargain has been broken. You are my mate, Azriel.”

A dopey smile took over Azriel’s face. “I’m your mate.”

You nodded with a small laugh. “You’re my mate, Azriel. And I am yours.”

“You are mine,” he repeated softly, then lurched forward like all of his memories finally came back. You jumped into action, helping him sit up.

“Careful,” you said. “You’re still healing. You’ve been asleep for a little over a week now.”

“What! W-what happened?”

You brushed some of his hair from his forehand, running your fingers through it. Now that you could touch each other without causing him pain, you weren’t ever going to stop. He leaned into your touch, looking up at you with such reverence and love, it caused your cheeks to turn pink. 

“I kind of…lost it when Koschei was about to kill you,” you finally answered, your voice a mere whisper. “My magic erupted and I choked him out. I didn’t kill him but it gave us enough time to get out of there. I broke the wards like you told me to and my brother came for us.” 

“Are you telling me that my mate choked out a Death God?” He grinned at you and you lightly smacked his shoulder. 

“It’s not funny, Az. You nearly died! Do you know how awful this past week has been? I…I thought I might never talk to you again. I thought you might never wake up!” 

Azriel lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. “I know, babygirl. How do you think I felt all those days you were trapped with Koschei? I wanted to get you the minute he shadowed you away but Rhysand wouldn’t let me go.” 

Well, Azriel using your brother’s full name told you exactly how he was feeling towards his High Lord at the moment. 

“I’m glad he didn’t,” you said, sternly. “You would’ve died and I would’ve given up. The only thing that kept me going in there was the thought of you, Azriel. The thought that maybe, maybe I could find my way back to you.” 

Azriel wiped at the tears falling from your eyes, gently. “I’m so sorry, princess. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant that the mating bond finally snapped between us…if it meant that I could have you now.” 

“I’m yours in any way you want me, princess,” Azriel reaffirmed, yanking you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you despite your protests because of his injuries. He placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’m yours from now until always.” 

You pulled away to look him in the eyes, your heart pulsing at everything you found in them. 

“And I am yours, Azriel,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

He smiled, fully smiled. “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

And then he pressed a passionate kiss against your lips. A kiss free of pain. A kiss that was full of every single emotion he felt towards you—admiration, craving, devotion, but above all else, love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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[jessamine-rose]

‧͙☽˚⋆⁺*˚꒰ Moonrise ꒱˚*⁺⋆˚☾‧͙

Surprise, surprise, the epilogue for The Spider and the Fly was finished early!! To everyone who loved Yandere! Miguel x Variant! Darling’s story, pls enjoy this short continuation which takes place after the events of ATSV (◞ꈍ∇ꈍ)◞

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, self-deprecation, Stockholm Syndrome, mention of nsfw, babytrapping

Note:: Female reader, ATSV spoilers, LYLA and Darling definitely have BFF keychains

♡ 1.6k words under the cut ♡

“He did what?”

“You heard me correctly.” LYLA flickers in front of you, her expression serious. “He escaped to another dimension. So now Miguel is looking for Miles in Earth-1610 while everyone else is scattered across the multiverse.”

“I see…” Your gaze drifts to the empty side of the bed. You can’t help but feel both worried for your lover and impressed by Miles Morales.

“But here’s the good news: Your desk wasn’t damaged when they chased him around HQ! Though you’ll be very busy once you get back to work. There will be a lot of multiverse jumps in the next two days, not to mention damage control.”

Never mind, Miles must be stopped as soon as possible.

The mere thought of all those incoming reports is enough to stress you out. What more for Miguel with the fate of the multiverse?

“And of all days, this has to happen while I’m on sick leave.”

As if on cue, you are interrupted by another coughing fit.

“Do you feel worse?” LYLA quickly does a medical scan, but your results are only slightly better than yesterday’s. “You should get more rest.”

You drink more water, shooting her a grateful smile. “Thanks for the update.”

In the dim bedroom, Miguel’s AI assistant is the brightest source of light. The Nueva York skyline appears gloomy, owing to the heavy rain. Is the weather similar in Earth-1610?

“Is Miguel going to be okay? It sounds like he’s already been through a lot.”

“You know how he is. He won’t go down without a fight.”

She’s right. And based on the records of Miguel’s previous missions, Miles and The Spot will be dead once he catches them. It will be difficult to watch.

There is a moment’s hesitation before LYLA continues speaking.

“He left a message for you: ‘Get well soon. And don’t try anything funny while I’m gone.’”

Now that puts a smile on your face. “Of course. Tell him I understand.”

Two days, less supervision. A stronger ______ would definitely plan an escape attempt while Miguel is distracted, notwithstanding the tracking devices and LYLA’s surveillance. But such an opportunity is wasted on you.

If anything, you already miss him.

…Though it is nice to imagine a break from Miguel. There are only so many warnings, so many hours of his sole company, so many ruined sheets and scarlet restraints before your apprehension resurfaces. His love is as intense as it is twisted.

Regardless, the previous months have been the happiest days of your life. Not even the increase in Anomalies could get between the two of you. There is a certain bond to be found in stressing over the same reports and drinking gallons of coffee together and getting jointly reprimanded by LYLA for “overworking yourselves, amongst other forms of self-neglect.”

Your status in the Spider Society has also changed thanks to the public knowledge of your relationship, sans the dark details. It hasn’t really bothered you, apart from the friendly jokes and knowing looks you get before your regular visits to Miguel’s laboratory.

Thinking about it now, Gwen Stacy has also asked for your help in convincing Miguel to let her visit Miles. Hopefully, she is doing well in her home dimension.

Then again, she is much stronger than you. She can handle this.

A holographic screen pops up. Reading it, you follow the scheduled reminder and take your medications. At least your cold has subsided.

LYLA watches you. “You’ll make a full recovery in no time. I’ll inform Miguel.”

“That’s good to know. Can you please relay another message to him?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“‘Good luck. I’m counting on you.’” You finish your cough syrup and close the screen. “‘And please take care of yourself.’”

Even today, he made time for you. A spoon-fed breakfast. A hands-on medical examination. Caldo de pollo and other healthy pre-cooked meals. Brief video calls. A text message explaining that he would come home late due to The Spot, now unsent.

“At least it means I can delay the news.”

LYLA gives you an inquisitive look. “What news?”

You open the bedside drawer and take out a used pregnancy test.

She gasps. “Are you…?! But your medical scan—”

One line.

“Oh.” She double-checks the device for confirmation. “Another negative, huh?”

“Yeah.” After returning it to the drawer, you lie down and wrap yourself in more blankets. “Can you keep it a secret this time? I want to tell him myself.”

“Sure.” She looks at you with renewed concern. “Hey, you okay? It’s not your fault.”

“I know.”

Still, you’ve grown tired of seeing the same result or more precisely, Miguel’s reactions. How many more times can you watch his gaze shift from hopeful to disappointed? By now, you’re already taking fertility drugs and discussing adoption—not that there’s anything inferior about the latter, but your Variants were able to conceive their child. Why can’t you?

Just last week, you noticed a medical article amongst his holographic screens. Miguel had highlighted a paragraph about the connection between stress and fertility. You don’t know if the research was for you or him; but either way, nothing can be done about that.

Worst of all is the relief you feel every time you see that single line. It feels like a secret betrayal, the final shred of your sanity in collaboration with your reproductive system.

“How did she do it?”

“What?” LYLA gives you a confused look.

You lie on your side, facing her. “My Variant. I mean, she was obviously healthier and also in favor of having kids, but…how did she manage? Wasn’t she ever scared of making a mistake with Gabriella? Is it even possible for us to raise a family as happy as theirs?”

“Hey, you’ll figure it out.” She gives you a kind smile, the perfect simulation of sympathy. “It’ll be Miguel’s first time, too, you know. Your pregnancy, your baby, and everything else will be just as new to him. And you can always count on Jess or Peter B for advice.”

“He did say that I’ve warmed up to Mayday…though she still prefers Miguel.”

“Nah, that’s only cuz he lets her treat him like a playground.”

Sitting up, you look around the room. It has undergone a few redecorations since you’ve moved in, under Miguel’s permission and LYLA’s encouragement. Everywhere you look, your personal items are mixed with Miguel’s.

The desk holds a jewelry box, one of your first belongings in Nueva York. The bottom drawer holds an assortment of rings, most of which were purchased on your last shopping date.

It wasn’t anything romantic. For someone who can read several reports and statistics at the same time, Miguel looked almost overwhelmed by the variety of clothes and accessories which caught your attention. LYLA’s opinion was more helpful and fashion-literate.

…He did call you pretty in the fitting room. The comment was totally unprompted for a dress which looked no different from your usual outfits. Up until that point, you had been observing your reflections with a mix of critical looks and pleased smiles.

After blushing, you quickly brushed it off as a matter of preference—LYLA did say that he likes your personal style more than your Variant’s. It’s more suitable for Nueva York.

Never mind that his gaze was on your face, not the dress.

…

Maybe one day, a special ring will be added to the jewelry box. Hand-picked by Miguel, made of any material except pearl, a perfect fit for your ring finger. It will be deserving of a place in the hidden compartment, where you keep your collection of pretty red spiderwebs.

When you receive it, it will be a special moment exclusive to you and your Miguel O’Hara—the versions of you who met on a moonlit night in the shadows of New York City.

Whatever happens, he still loves you. You, despite your flaws and every trait which sets you apart from his Variant’s wife. That is a promise you can believe in.

The room is too cold, so you adjust the air conditioner and take out another blanket. It won’t be as warm in Miguel’s absence.

You should get more rest. The sooner you recover, the sooner you can get back to work and give him one less thing to worry about.

After his mission, you’ll welcome him home as always. He will reciprocate your kisses, call you by your special nickname, and appreciate the food you prepared—his favorites, to celebrate another saved universe. If he looks tired or stressed, you will be the one to comfort him.

…Then you will show him the pregnancy test.

The hope will appear and vanish from his gaze. There will be reassurances directed at both you and himself. Miguel will give you a hug and soft kisses, which became part of the routine after the second test. After that, he will move on to a new topic or suggest a movie night.

Then during your next ovulation, you will be confined for a different reason. You will have to deal with Miguel’s company, his passionate touches, his lovesick declarations, his desperation for your own version of domestic bliss. A small, pathetic part of you has begun to look forward to it.

If he defeats The Spot and Miles Morales.

“Hey, LYLA?” you whisper.

She moves closer to your face. “Yeah?”

“If this continues…he’s not going to alter my DNA, is he?”

“…That’s the last resort. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

♡

Prologue ft. Wife! Darling ๑ Side Stories

So did I jumpscare y'all with the early release of Moonrise?? It’s part of a double feature with Sunset, hence the contrasting titles and simultaneous ideas. But aahhh little did I think that I'd finish this fic ahead of schedule~

Lots of love to my beta-reader @diodellet!! And thanks again to everyone who expressed their love for my Miguel O’Hara writing. May my next idea be less painful for all of us :’>

Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @yanmaresu @yandere-romanticaa @yandere-daydreams @bweoo @kocherry @oofasleep @h2o2-and-baking-soda @yandere-wishes @hisachuu @weebsinstash @handsomeunderwear-art @literaree @pumpkin-toffee @curesi @miggyyyyohara @abyssalrot @letskidaddle @miguelswifey04 @skeleton-on-wheels0