#he didn’t like either of my answers either

[bangchansgirlsblog]

my dear! I'm your fan, I love your writing. Thank you for taking us out of our reality and allowing us to enter a world of our own! Could I make a request for a crazy idea I had? An anguished Y/N and Chan fight and he tells her to leave and leave him alone. When Y/N leaves in a daze he doesn't see the car and is run over. In the end I trust you. =) If it doesn't bother you and you can fulfill my request, I would be very happy!

Can we turn back time?

Warnings: blood, tragic, angst, accident.

Summary: ^^ Requested

A/N: hey baby :) not the best :/ butttt I hope you like it. Sorry for any grammar mistakes.

**

Her heart was beating at a fast pace. Why was he not understanding what she was trying to say?

“You always come home late Chan! I thought I could have this one night. This one night to ourselves but you chose to go drinking instead?!” She poured her heart out as she stared at her idol boyfriend.

“Please Y/n now now okay? I get you wanna talk but can I please just go to bed? We can talk about it tomorrow,” he pleaded as he put down his black leather jacket on the couch.

His curls sat neatly on his head and his black shirt fitting him perfectly and his jeans neatly ironed.

“Chan it feels like you don’t love me anymore!”

“Well maybe I don’t, okay?!” He got up and yelled. His anger was now full on visible as he aggressively slammed his hands on the table.

She stood there looking at him shocked. Tears pricking through her eyes. What was this mess?

His eyes softened as looked her scared figure. “I- I didn’t mean too,”

“Save it Chan.” She sobbed. Her hand was fiddling with her promise ring that Chan has gifted her on their 2 year anniversary. It was the most beautiful ring that she has laid her eyes on but as time went on she realized it was just a ring it was a stress reliever because anytime she was sad, frustrated, mad or confused she would play with the ring on her finger.

“Why can’t you see the things you keep doing hurt me Chan?” She sobbed and looked up at him. Praying that somehow she can find answers.

“I-“ he took a deep breathe trying to keep his own tears in, “I’m failing okay? Can you just leave me alone? Please?” He took a shaky breath before taking a step back and grabbing his jacket.

“Am I a burden now?” Her chest tightened. Chan couldn’t look at her. He had no courage, no strength.

“I’m going upstairs,” he simply said and walked past her.

She wanted to stop him, beg him to hold her, beg him to be there for her but the pain in her chest told her otherwise. She looked so silly, like a kicked puppy.

She wiped her tears and walked over to grab her shoes before leaving her house totally forgetting her phone and keys.

**

It was dark and cold. The sun had officially set and people were either out having dinner or rushing home from work.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel bad as she watched the couples sitting outside restaurants talking and laughing.

She felt empty, she felt deceived. Chan was the perfect boyfriend. He made sure of it but when they started becoming a hit he started slowly pushing her to the side leaving her at home and going out to drink and party or he would be locked up in the studio trying to make new songs.

She was lost without him. She had created her whole routine off of him and now she would wakeup every morning feelings lost not knowing what to do.

Her mind was runnning so fast that she couldn’t keep up. The tears in her eyes were were blurring her vision as she took quick steps to the park.

It wasn’t far. That was always her safe space. Everytime she would get overwhelmed or exhausted she would run away and hide behind the big old oak tree down by the river next to the park.

It was a little foggy, she couldn’t see anything but Chan’s loud voice kept playing in her head until she heard a loud screech. She looked to the side but it was too late. A painful scream left her body as she watched the car crash into her body.

She didn’t feel pain all she could hear was a ringing sound then a few sirens before everything went quiet.

**

“199 what is your emergency?”

“I-I crashed into someone, help! Please! I don’t know what to do-“

“Okay sir is she breathing? I need you to calm down and tell me what happened,”

“Y-yes she’s still breathing, I- I was driving and she just stepped infront of the car, I don’t know! It wasn’t my fault,” he sobbed as panic was filling his chest.

He looked down at the frail body, blood was everywhere and yet he still didn’t pass out. He tried to put pressure on the area that was bleeding the most but it wasn’t working. Blood was still gushing out of her.

She looked familiar tho, he thought.

“Sir, I’ve sent an ambulance. I just need you to keep breathing and tell me if she stops breathing. Keep your hand on the wound,” the dispatcher kept telling him over and over again.

“Oh God this is a lot of blood. Please God, please don’t let her die,” he whispered as he looked up at the car that was parked by them.

It felt like hours until he felt like who could breathe. He heard the sirens. They were here. The paramedics were finally here.

**

“C’mon Y/n please pick up,” Chan cursed at himself as he walked back and forth in the living room.

He was now in sweatpants and a hoodie. His hair wet from the shower.

When he had come downstairs he saw no sight of Y/n and at first he thought that maybe she had gone for a breather so he decided to do some work knowing that she wouldn’t pick up his phone even if he had tried to call so he just chose to distract himself.

He felt guilty for the fight they had. It was chewing him alive but he knew it was his fault and he needed to make it up. As time kept passing by; 30 minutes turned into 2 hours.

He started to feel uneasy so he decided to try her phone but she wasn’t picking. He called all the boys at the dorm asking if she was with them but they said they hadn’t seen her then he called her bestfriend and she too hadn’t seen her. That’s when the panic started to set in.

He called her phone over and over again while making sure to text her too. He rushed upstairs to grab his crocs and that’s when he saw her phone on the night stand table.

“Shit, Y/n,” he groaned and rubbed his eyes before grabbing his car keys.

He put on his crocs and rundown the stairs and that’s when he got a call from his manager.

“What is it Soon-hoo, I can’t really-“

“Chan we need to get to the hospital now,” he said in a panic. Chan’s blood went cold as he could hear shuffling in the background.

“W-what is it? What happened?!” He managed to say.

“It’s Y/n Chan,” Chan’s senses came to a hold. Everyhting around him felt like it was moving in slow motion, “she got run over Chan, I’m coming to pick you up,” their manager said as he started the car.

All Chan could hear was a ringing sound as he stared at the blank floor. Tears running down his cheeks as his heart was beating faster.

______

Don’t forget to reblog😋

[bubbleddisasters]

(Can’t believe I’m writing my first ever x reader (kind of) this but the Self Aware Au is so interesting to me)

Code Escaping: Heartstabyl Edition.

(All Students (can be viewed as platonic or romantic, Orthos is strictly platonic though)

Gender Neutral Reader!

——-

After several attempts, and failures, they finally succeeded.

They got through

To your world.

What next? Try and Find you, Rush to your side first thing and try to casually explain that a video game character broke out of their code to see them?

Maybe set things up first? Comfy living, then an easy way to find you? Or go off clues from things you used to say or areas he saw behind you? Or did he get lucky and he’s two feet away?

Man, He should have checked the code for your location…..No time to lose!

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

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒍

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

𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 🌹

——

Truth be told, he got quite lucky.

A library is where he arrived, one he recognized as your hiding spot to study, or simply relax.

So, he found every tome he thought relevant on what he needed to know of the basics of your world, aswell as the one he last witnessed you study, and sat himself in the seat next to where you usually did, awaiting your arrival.

Was it timely? Perhaps, Perhaps not.

You’d been slightly (Very) annoyed that for some reason, none of your Riddle cards would show his appearance. The Chibi was no where to be seen, and your homescreen vacant of him.

So as you made your way to your spot, you nearly shrieked because either thats a damn good cosplay or Riddle Rosehearts was very casually reading the history textbook your teacher assigned while sitting four feet away from your usual spot.

Steel blue eyes scoped to check the noise, and sat up instantly.

“Just as I expected, you’d arrive here sooner or later. You certainly took your time, however.”

Before you could process the fact he sounded suspiciously like Ciel Phantomhive, he quite literally summoned a tea set. Out of thin air.

And was just staring. Most definitely waiting for you to sit down casually like he didn’t summon an entire china set with piping hot tea in a magicless world.

This was the real deal. Mommy Issues Supreme was now officially your problem. Good Luck.

————————

𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒚♣

——

He remembered the name of the bakery down the street you visited.

As a joke, when you’d finished book one, you’d ordered a Strawberry Tart. He couldn’t exactly remember if you actually ate it, or gave it away, but it was funny, regardless.

Using Paint the Roses, he altered a napkin into a very nice resume, and he got a job there.

When Trey up and vanished from your homescreen, you’d gone to get a pastry to cheer yourself up. Not the best coping skill, but hey, it works.

It was pretty late, and it seemed they were closing up, so you planned to just be in and out, not wanting to make their job any harder.

The little bell rung as you entered, and the little alarms in your head went off when you arrived at the counter, and a-wait, why would someone cosplay at their job? Trey and working at a Bakery fit together, but…wait a second. Thats not a wig, and thats not contacts either.

If Ingame Trey was missing, and this guy looked exactly like him…..Nope, Not Possible.

Trying to play it casual , you ordered the usual and once you had it, sat down as you normally would.

But when you took a bite of your treat, it tasted like….Strawberry. Then Chestnut. What the hell.

You unintentionally had an odd staring contest with the current cashier, who then held out a scarily familiar pen, chuckling a bit as he placed it on the counter.

“Surprise.”

After making his way around the counter, he sat down on the other side of the table, doing his best to not freak you out too much.

“Yea, I know this might be a bit confusing, and It’s probably not easy to process all this, so take your time, and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Great, because you had several.

——————-

𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓♦

——

Social Media Stalking but not Stalking was his forte.

The first thing he did was make pretty much every account he could on medias he knew you had. Like Tumblr.

He decided it would be way too freaky to just pop up out of nowhere, so as he was thinking and exploring, he took a few selfies and photoshoots here are there.

And WOW. They blew up. At first he thought it was the general math of Attractive Guy + Good Photos of him = Alot of Views. He had sorta kinda forgot other people knew about Twist until he noticed the flood of “Cater IRL” and “THE Cater Cosplay” comments. Which gave him an idea.

After the annoyance of all your Caters being lost in the code sauce, you messed around online until you accidentally pulled up a page with the greatest Cater Cosplay you had ever witnessed.

You had to do a double take when the follow button said “Follow Back”. You complied with the buttons wishes and followed them back.

After a while, you somehow ended up dming back and forth with him, and his strangely Cater coded texts. You also discovered that it apparently wasn’t a cosplay, and just his natural appearance was scarily similar to Caters..and his name was Cater, which was accidentally revealed by a Starbucks barista calling out after finishing making his drink while you were calling.

Part of you suspected that this could be the real Cater, with all the math adding up, and the other half of you called you a fucking idiot for that.

Little did you know the first one was exactly what Cater was hoping for.

With that, he managed to do some kinda social media stalking ( but not like, Rook Levels, DW) and found your general area based on area matching (TY Google Maps!) and nearly jumped for joy when he realized it was where he was too.

He subtly managed to sneak that in conversation, and set up a meetup between you two, a brunch and phone shopping. Weird Pick on the last one, but you decided not to judge.

The first thing he said when you arrived confused you, alot.

With a bright smile, he waved you over.

“Hey! Long Time no see!”

Ignoring the aggressive red flag in that statement with a simple “Maybe he meant since we called” as if you didn’t call him last night to plan this out, either way, you scooted in.

You two got so distracted chatting, at one point making up a game of fake gossiping the craziest things to see if anyone reacted, and for your own entertainment.

Because of that, your drink went warm, and as soon as you mentioned it, you got your answer to the “Where did my Caters go.” question.

Why? Because, as if this had happened before, he simply refroze it. Magically.

As you stared in pure awe and confusion, he grimaced upon the realization his cover was pretty much blown.

“Whoops…Lets just pretend that didn’t happen, and I’ll explain later, ‘Kay?”

You just had to pray nobody witnessed that, as Area 51 did definitely did not sound like Cay-Cays ideal Vacay.

——

𝑨𝒄𝒆♥

—

He thought it would be fucking HILARIOUS to prank you, as, unfortunately for you, he ended up in your house, only to find out you were asleep, which gave him the opportunity to PUA (Prank Upon Arrival)

For the next several hours of your waking life, Ace of Hearts playing cards of varying sizes would be infesting your house, or when you’d put something down and look away, there was either a card on it or it had been replaced by a card.

You were also robbed of leftovers you’d been saving, and a few snacks by this card demon.

After you left the house vacant (you fool), the Knave struck again, this time sneaking out and guessing your next move, heading off to a cafe because you needed caffeine after the card madness, until you had already ordered, and you had turned on Twist while waiting for your drink.

Quietly, he slid into the chair infront of you as you grumbled.

“He’s not on the homescreen either—Where the hell are all my Ace cards?”

Hehe, Infront of you. This is the best setup ever.

Leaning back on the chair, he couldn’t contain a grin as he faked obliviousness.

“I dunno. Maybe try looking around a lil’ more?”

Not paying much attention to who was talking to you in your moment of despair , you sighed, swiping back to the home screen.

“They’re not those kinds of cards.”

“Aren’t like, five of them card themed?”

“Four right now, since Ace has seemingly gone and fucked off to another dimension:”

“Yeaaa, about that. It was not as easy to do as you’re making it sound. Just saying.”

You looked up for a split second, then did a double take and nearly skyrocketed out of your chair, making indecipherable confusion noises while he laughed his ass off, totally soaking in the success of his perfect surprise you had unintentionally enabled.

While you stood frozen in shock, he simply grabbed your things, put them in your hand, S̶t̶o̶l̶e̶ grabbed your coffee, and whisked you out the door.

I pray for you, good luck dealing with him.

——

𝑫𝒆𝒖𝒄𝒆♠

——

Woke up in either your garage or kitchen, and was confused. Rightfully so.

Since he couldn’t really find you around, but at least recognized this as your house, he just waddled around more or less, fixing random things here and cleaning up there while trying to find clues to where you might be, or if he should just wait here.

He finally found a grocery list, which you had forgotten, and spent the next 10 minutes trying to find the nearest grocery store while unintentionally locking himself out of the house in the process, so made the genius decision to hope you were still at the grocery store and dashed over.

You’re doing great, dude.

Anywho, he got lucky, because in the middle of carrying off your shopping bags, your notification that your AP was full went off, and as you went to use it, you noticed a severe lack of Deuce on your homescreen.

This lead to sitting on a bench and getting distracted trying to figure out why the hell this glitch had only affected your Deuce cards, so you weren’t paying much attention when you heard a voice somewhat far off but close.

“Oh hey! There you are!”

Assuming it was for someone else, you continued trying to fix the “glitch”, then paused when you heard the voice from before right infront of you.

“Do you need help with carrying those bags?”

The words “I’m good, thanks.” died on your tongue when you looked up, only to be face to face with the guy you’d been suffering trying to figure out where he went for 20 minutes. Ingame. In a VIDEO GAME.

Internally, you practically short-circuited, after you panicked, he started panicking, and you both ended up in a weird confusion panic that had the energy of the spidermans pointing at eachother meme.

Great job! You have now acquired a German Shepard Golden Retriever mix in human form.

————

Bonus :

——

𝑪𝒉𝒆'𝒏𝒚𝒂⤵➟

——

Unlike most of them, he had absolutely zero trouble hopping into your world.

However, instead of revealing himself right away, he decided to be the ghost of good deeds and mischief. And a random black cat you’d suspiciously find on your window sill demanding pets or cuddles.

Luckily transforming, flying, invisibility, and the rest of his magic ability seemed to work just fine.

Sometimes, you’d randomly find things placed in unusual places, spoons on the ceiling, for example, the paintings or pictures sometimes randomly taking on very funny faces, teacups and plates floating around at 2am, leaving you to assume it was a sleepy hallucination.

Other times you’d be aggravatingly trying to fix something, look away for one moment, and not only was it fixed, it looked almost brand new. Or you’d open the fridge or pantry, and notice the lack of food, then open it again, and i’d be filled to the brim.

You never noticed anything too strange on Twist itself however until you got bored one day, and decided to replay Heartstabyls chapters, only to realize Che’nya was…completely missing.

Out of sheer curiosity, you checked his Pomfieore Chapter appearance. Nothing. Gone.

Trying to see if it was just the WIFI connection, you moved rooms, only to see a blink of purple in the corner of your eye.

Lounging in the air by the window, tail swaying lazily, he peeked over, then grinned his signature grin.

“Nya-ice to meet you~”

———

Yay! Thats all!!

Holy shit I can’t believe I wrote this, feel free to take me out (Date or Assassination I really don’t care)

Alright! I might do more but they might not be in dorm order, see ya!

[spencerreidenjoyer]

welcome home | spencer reid x reader

word count: 2.2k, rating: 18+/explicit

warning/tags: smut and fluff, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, munch!spencer reid, established relationship

a/n: hello! this is my first spencer/criminal minds fic and am new to posting fic to tumblr!! i wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy lol. please let me know if u like this, enjoy!

You wake when the bedroom door creaks open. Spencer’s been meaning to get it fixed, but he’s been away so often recently.

A dark figure in the doorway startles you as you blink, your eyes adjusting to the darkness, and you reach for your phone as you sit up but a familiar voice soothes any of your anxieties.

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer, even though Spencer coming in most definitely woke you up. “Hey. Welcome home.”

Spencer walks over to your side of the bed, turning the lamp on the bedside table on. The gentle, yellow glow fills the room. You see how sweetly Spencer is looking at you. You smile up at him, and Spencer leans in to kiss you. He tastes like coffee.

“Told you not to drink coffee so late,” you chastise playfully. “You always have trouble falling asleep when you do.”

“Emily made me a cup on our way back from New York, I couldn’t say no,” Spencer shrugs, smiling. 

You shake your head, pulling the knot of his tie loose. 

“Go take a shower before you come to bed, baby,” you say, patting his cheek. “I’ve been missing cuddling my boyfriend to sleep.”

“Don’t wait up. Get some more rest, Y/N,” Spencer hums, before he turns around and enters the bathroom. 

You can’t fall back asleep, not just yet. You decide to scroll mindlessly on your phone while the sound of the shower running provides some ambient noise. You hear Spencer’s not-so-in-tune humming over the water, and it makes you smile to yourself.

Spencer always scolds you for taking too long in the shower. Says it’s a waste of water. You often suggest you should shower together, leaving Spencer a bumbling, red-faced mess. It’s cute. 

It doesn’t take long for him to step out of the shower, towel-drying his hair. You turn to face him to make a cheeky comment, but all you see is a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his torso, tanned skin still wet. Your lips parted still, you look up and meet his eyes. Spencer quirks an eyebrow, curious. 

You swallow, attempting to make a smooth comeback. “Couldn’t have towelled yourself off in there?”

Spencer chuckles, “Didn’t bring a change of clothes in. Thought I might as well change out here.”

You feel your cheeks heat, but you muster up some confidence to say, “Forget the clothes.”

“What?” Spencer asks. You can only focus on the veins in his forearms, the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

“I said forget the clothes. Come here,” you repeat, and Spencer’s eyes widen. He approaches you, almost nervous, as if you haven’t been dating for a year. Awkwardly, he stands by the bed, and you pull him down towards you with the towel he’s left slung around his shoulders. He catches himself, hands planted next to either side of your head. His hair, still damp, falls into his face. He looks so handsome like this. You lean up to kiss him.

Spencer makes a surprised little noise, before his hand moves to cup your face as he kisses you. He kneels on the mattress for support so his other hand can trace your body, feeling you up as you are with him, hands reaching for his biceps, his lithe body, his toned stomach. 

You feel breathless as you whisper, “I missed you, Spencer.”

“I missed you too,” Spencer exhales, eyes gentle and warm as he looks down at you. 

“Kiss me some more,” you coax. 

Spencer grins. “Gladly.”

Spencer kisses you, desperation in every move he makes. You run your hand through his hair. Messy as it air-dries, but that’s just another thing you like about him. You feel him slide his hand up your sleep shirt – well, it’s his shirt, but he no longer says anything about you stealing his clothes – and it sends a shudder down your spine. His hand is calloused, rough, but touches you with a sweet gentleness that makes you swoon. His hand reaches your breast, cups it, squeezes like he needs to get his fill. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, as you run your hand down his body, reaching where his towel is tucked in so that it stays up. Your hand nudges his hardening cock, and you smile. “Someone’s already hot and bothered, huh?”

Spencer shakes his head, chuckling. “As if you didn’t start this.”

“Oh, come on, baby,” you coo. “I think it’s cute. You want me so bad.”

“I do,” He answers rather earnestly. “I’ve been gone for the better part of this week. Of course I want you.”

“And I’ll give it to you,” you answer, undoing the towel and letting it fall around Spencer’s knees. Your hand wraps around Spencer, and he moans at the contact, at the pressure. 

“Shit,” Spencer groans, head falling forward as he loses himself in the pleasure of your hand. His brows are furrowed slightly but he’s leaking, and you just want him inside you already. You kiss his cheek, and he turns his head to meet your lips instead. His lips are soft, a little chapped, but Spencer’s never been diligent with the lip balm you gave him. You’ll kiss him regardless, chapped lips and all. 

“I want you, Spencer,” you sigh. “Please.”

“I know,” Spencer says, and he reaches for your lower half. “How- How did I not realise you weren’t wearing shorts?”

You smirk, only hiding your fluster when you take off your shirt and toss it onto the floor. “Oh, Mr. Respectful Boyfriend over here doesn’t realise his girlfriend is half-naked. Shocker.”

“Hey, I am respectful!” Spencer retaliates, while trying very hard not to ogle your tits, which you promptly counter by squeezing his cock. He squeaks. You laugh, as he apologises and moves to dip his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. He looks at you. 

“Take them off already, Spencer,” you say. He does, pulling your underwear off with a reverence he’s always given you when you’re in bed together. You lift your hips so he can slide them off. You expect Spencer to come back up, but he instead slides in between your spread legs. 

His hand is gentle on your thigh, and his thumb rubs at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You feel his breath on you, his face lowering towards your heat but his eyes solely meeting yours. “Let me take care of you, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling breathless already. “I thought- I thought I was supposed to make you feel good, since you missed me.”

“You do make me feel good. Even like this.” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “Especially like this.”

“It’s hot that you like getting me off,” you say. You can’t help the smile that forms on your face, as Spencer buries his face between your legs. 

You feel the little bit of stubble on Spencer’s chin rubbing at your thighs, and his insistent tongue that slowly coaxes you open. It’s wet and slick and you feel so good, as his tongue circles your clit. The way he’s eating you out is like a man starved, as he holds your legs apart, drinking from you like he’s running out of water. The pleasure makes your head spin, makes your toes curl, as adrenaline drums in your veins and makes the tips of your fingers (that are buried in Spencer’s hair) tingle. You hold him down against you, as if you want him impossibly closer, as if the pleasure he’s giving you will increase tenfold if you do. You feel him moan against you, the vibrations only making you feel better. 

“Spencer,” you exhale shakily, “You need to fuck me, right now.”

He pulls away slightly, and you expect the loss of warmth all at once, but Spencer’s slipped the tips of two fingers into you, and he fills you up just like that alongside his tongue. He spreads them to scissor you open, tongue slid in between them perfectly. You cry out as he fucks you with his stupidly long fingers, feeling crazy good when he hits the spots deep inside you that you can only reach on a good day. 

You writhe on the bed, the bed you share, and Spencer finally comes up for air. “That’s totally what you meant, right?”

You glare at Spencer. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You won’t,” Spencer says with a smirk. He pulls his fingers out of you, sits back up so he’s kneeling between your legs. You watch Spencer wrap his fingers around himself, sticky with your slick, as he works himself up. Playfully, he mocks, “You want me so bad.”

You gasp as he presses the tip of his cock to your hole, wet and sticky and leaking from the number Spencer’s already done on you. He’s sweet as he presses inside, doesn’t tease but instead gives you exactly what you want.

Spencer feels like he was made for you, fitting inside you perfectly. You sigh as he presses into you, all the way to the hilt. When you look up at him, it’s like he can barely keep it together. His face is scrunched up and a little flushed, and you just want to kiss him. 

You reach up to pull him closer by the nape of his neck. He can clearly tell what you plan to do, so he says, “I taste like you.”

You smile up lazily at him. “I know. I think that’s really fucking hot.”

He leans in to kiss you, full of heat, but he’s still extremely sweet about it. His chin is sticky, but you couldn’t care less. He holds you so softly, but wherever his hands touch your skin – your stomach, your thighs, your face – it feels so hot, burning with his desire.

You clench around him on purpose when he breaks away from kissing you, and he curses under his breath. “Jesus Christ, Y/N. The things you do to me.”

“Yeah?” You grin. “Show me.”

Spencer pulls out before rocking his hips, pushing himself into you, and you moan. His rhythm has gotten better since you and Spencer started sleeping together, better at keeping his pace even and steady to get you to your orgasm. He used to be a bumbling (but adorable) mess, close to virginal and would blow his load just after a few minutes. You like to think you helped him improve, but you definitely don’t want to see him use these skills with anyone else. 

He holds your leg up, allowing him to fuck you even deeper. You feel every inch of Spencer inside of you, as he slides in and out, repeat. He’s learned well, just how to fuck you. Being a genius definitely has its perks, with him learning so quickly, knowing exactly what makes you tick.

His other hand reaches down to toy with your clit, and you shudder. “Spencer… Feels so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds, sounding delighted to hear your glowing review. “Are you gonna…”

“I’m close,” you sigh. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Fuck,” Spencer curses, seemingly out of nowhere, but you know by now that it turns him on like crazy. His need for praise always had you curious, and using it in bed just makes you feel all the more powerful. He clears his throat, continuing, “You’re- So tight, so warm. You feel really good.”

Spencer’s been trying to… talk more, during sex, knowing how much you like it. He’s remembered the way you talk to him when you’re sleeping together, and he’s done well parroting it back to you. It’s hot, how eager he is to please. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” you say, breathless. “Make me cum, Spencer.”

He leans in to press his lips to yours again, driving his hips into you at a punishing pace, and you’re gushing as he flicks at your clit in all the right ways. You moan as your orgasm washes over you, electrifies you, till every bone in your body feels like jelly. He lets out a whimper as his hips stutter, emptying inside of you. His warmth floods into you, and you feel a strange sense of pride with it. 

“Ugh, you’re so hot,” you groan, while Spencer presses one last kiss to your cheek before he slumps down on top of you. “And heavy.”

“I love you,” Spencer says, awfully serious. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me, Spencer?” You chuckle. Spencer lifts his head to look at you. You stroke his cheek gently. 

“For letting me make you feel good, I suppose,” Spencer says. “Orgasms are often good for stress relief.”

“For me or for you?” You grin. 

“Both of us?” Spencer suggests. You nod in agreement. 

You sit in the comfortable silence between you and Spencer as you cuddle with him on top of you, only feeling sticky once the post-orgasm high has worn off. “So, wanna shower together?”

“Oh my God, Y/N,” Spencer squeaks, sounding positively scandalised.

You laugh. “Oh, please. As if you didn’t cum inside of me just minutes ago.”

Spencer makes a comically distressed noise. “Well, when you put it like that!”

He gets up off of you, like he’s afraid of offending you, but you just take his hand as you stand up. You see the way his eyes rake over your naked body. It feels good. You kiss the top of his hand and smile at him. “Nothing to be scared of, Spencer. Come on.”

[flemingsfreckles]

Grandkids

Jessie Fleming x Reader (parent fic)

Synopsis: You and Jessie catch wind that your teenage daughter might have a boyfriend. Jessie loses her mind over it.

Warnings: discussions of sex, bird and the bees type conversation

WC: 1.7k

A/N: literally no one asked for this but I’m struggling to write. This is just another short blurb that got written because I had a single thought about Jessie being a mom to teenagers and having to give her kids the birds and the bees talk.

When your children had gotten home from school that day, you and Jessie were in the office, organizing old documents. The office was just located off the kitchen where your two children had walked through the door.

Your youngest child, Riley was already interrogating at his older sister. “So what is he your boyfriend now, are you guys all gross and in love?” You paused what you were doing, listening further into the conversation.

“Stop Riley.”

“Amelia and Nick sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Your younger one continues to taunt his sister

“Ughhh, shut up!” Your daughter's voice begins to fade, you assume she’s walking out of the room and away from the teasing that’s going on.

“Where are you going? To call your boyfriend?” You hear Riley call after her followed shortly by the slamming of a bedroom door. Normally the door slamming would be immediate grounds for either you or Jessie to go talk with your daughter. However you and your wife both remained frozen in the office.

You hear your son grab something from the fridge and make his way to his own room before closing the door.

When you heard his bedroom door close Jessie started speaking. “Did he just say her boyfriend?”

“I think so? I don’t know?” You shrug at your wife before turning to put more papers away, no longer being distracted by the conversation between your teenagers.

“Why are you fine with this?” Jessie now standing, no longer caring to organize and shred paper. Clearly Jessie was not taking the new information well.

“Fine with what?” You look at Jessie, taking the papers in her hands to finish filing them away.

“Our daughter having a boyfriend.” She says as if it’s the most obvious answer.

“Oh right, I’m sorry, she didn’t turn out gay like us, we tried our best.” You feel the smile creeping across your face. “Maybe we should’ve let her play softball and dressed her in more flannels as a little kid.”

“Can you take something seriously for once?!” Jessie was usually a fan of your humor but it appeared that today was not the day for it. She was clearly upset.

“Jessie, first of all, Riley is 15 he might not actually know what he’s talking about, he might’ve just overheard some school gossip. Second of all, Amelia is 17, not 12, she can have a boyfriend.” You roll your eyes at your wife, seeing and hearing the panic that she was having.

“I thought we had agreed when she was born that she wasn’t allowed to date until she was 25!” Jessie was whispering yelling at you, not wanting to alert your children.

“That was a joke Jessie, I’m not controlling my kid’s romantic life until they’re 25!” You both had jokingly talked that you wouldn’t let anyone near her, she was your little girl, you both overbearing as brand new parents. You had forgotten about that, obviously realizing that she’s a human and will likely date before she’s 25.

“Well she can’t have a boyfriend.” She crosses her arms, staring at you like you’re the bad guy in this situation. You throw your arms out, not sure why Jessie is upset with you.

“She’s 17, it’s fine, we don’t even know if it’s actually a boyfriend.” You tried to reason with your wife but you could practically see the steam coming from her ears.

“She’s too young to have a boyfriend, she’s too young to be having sex!” Jessie whispers the word ‘sex’ as if just saying it was going to cause a teenage pregnancy somewhere in the world. “We cannot have grandkids yet!”

“Oh my god,” you start to laugh. “You’re fully losing it over this aren’t you?” You couldn’t believe Jessie’s dramatic jump from a potential boyfriend to your daughter giving you grandkids in a matter of seconds.

“I don’t know why you’re so okay with our daughter having sex with a boy we’ve never even met!” Jessie is wildly waving her hands, her face has a look of panic on it.

“Alright, sit, take a deep breath.” You push Jessie’s shoulders forcing her to put her weight up against the desk, half sitting on it. She takes a deep breath and you take one with her. You keep your hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze as you talk to her.

“We don’t know he’s her boyfriend. Let’s not jump to conclusions here. Amelia is a smart girl, you know that.” You take her hands in yours. “If she’s determined that now is the time she wants to start dating, I think we need to understand that that’s okay. We can talk with her about it. We’ll tell her our expectations, the expectations we have for her and whoever she wants to date. It’ll be fine.”

Jessie takes her hands from yours, crossing her arms over her chest, letting out a small huff. “But it’s not fine, I don’t trust him, I don’t think he has good intentions.”

“You’ve never met the kid, Jessie just because he’s a teenage boy, doesn’t mean he only wants sex from her.” You pause before you continue, knowing your wife would likely not be happy with the next few words you said. “And Jessie,” you grab her face making her look at you. “if she is dating this boy or dating anyone, and she’s curious about the physical intimacy that comes with that, I think that’s okay.”

“No its-” you hold up your hand to stop Jessie’s sentence.

“Let me finish. If she’s curious and has questions, I’d rather she feel comfortable coming to us than to the internet or her friends who don’t know and will give her terrible information. Yes, 17 is young, but she’s practically an adult Jessie. She’ll be off at school in a year, where she won’t have us to help her with these things.” You can practically see the rage building up in your wife’s face. “Now I'm not going to sit here and tell her to go have sex, but I'm not going to let our daughter be taught that sex is a sinful or scary thing, you know that. We’ve raised them to be open and honest about sex so far, we can’t become a sex-negative household now that she’s at that age where it might be a thought. We can talk with her, have an adult conversation. We’ll explain the emotional aspect that comes with it, we’ll make sure she understands all the aspects of what it means to have sex with someone. And that if,” you take a deep breath, “if she’s planning on, or has any interest in having sex, we’ll get her set with birth control or condoms, probably both.”

“She’s too young, putting her on birth control would be like offering to buy them a hotel room to do it.” You couldn’t believe Jessie’s behavior still, you thought your reasoning would’ve helped her opinion at least a little.

When you first learned you were having a girl, Jessie was admient that no one would go near your daughter until she was 30. But the two of you had done your best to raise your kids to be informed, you taught them about consent early, you taught them the anatomy of where babies come from, when your daughter turned 14, you and Jessie sat her down, giving her the full bird and the bees talk. You did most of the talking, Jessie was there but she looked just as mortified as your daughter did. You taught her sex wasn’t bad and sex wasn’t just for babies, it was for intimacy, connection, enjoyment, it was fun, it was a way to connect with another person, but that didn’t make it any less serious. Jessie had been on board before with these discussions, she didn’t always participate fully, but she was always there and you knew your daughter had gone to her to ask her some questions after to get clarification. But now that the reality of your daughter starting this part of her life was real, Jessie had done a 180.

“Jessie, she’s a teenager, teenagers have hormones. If she wants to have sex, it’s going to happen, teenagers find a way whether we like it or not. I’d rather her be having safe, informed, and protected sex, than unsafe sex in a boy’s mom’s car in a sketchy dark parking lot in the middle of nowhere just so they can avoid getting caught.”

You both sit in silence, Jessie looks at the ground and you look at her.

“I hate that you’re right.” She mumbles after a few minutes.

“I know.” You kiss her cheek with a smile. “Jessie” you grab your wife’s hand, your thumb rubbing over where her wedding band and engagement ring sat, “Let’s just go talk to her, that way we’re not sitting here guessing and making up scenarios. For all we know it’s not a boyfriend.”

“I just can’t believe she wouldn’t tell us. She’s our little girl, she used to tell us everything.” You can now see the sadness in Jessie’s eyes.

“I know, but our little girl is growing up, she’s a moody teenager now, she’s not going to want to share everything with us, and that’s okay.” You sit down next to Jessie, resting your head on her shoulder as you both stare at the door of the office.

“I want her to go back to being so little. I used to be able to hold her in one arm.”

“I know, they both used to be so little.” You and Jessie sat together, your head on her shoulder, reminiscing on the 17 years that seemed to have flown by. Thinking about how small their fingers used to be, how small their clothes were, how they’d babble at you, all of that gone, you now had two grown children.

“We did a pretty good job with them I think. They’re good people.”

“Yeah,” Jessie laughs, “just not to each other.”

“Well they’re siblings.” You respond back. You realize you’ll probably have to talk to your son too about his teasing. “Ready to go talk to her?” You ask Jessie.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to watch her grow up but I don’t think I have a choice.” Jessie says pushing herself off the desk. “Let’s go.”

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister) Part 3 (Azriel's Version)

Part One , Part 2

AN: "Majesty, Palo is exhausted. Because Majesty only Palo can take this (angst) and this (groveling) and give you...a masterpiece."

No fr guys I put my whole puss into this plz tell me if you liked it

check out my masterlist

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right? 

Warnings: angst, fluff like so much fluff, no editing (I'm so tired omg)

Word count: 9,370

We arrived in the house in silence, the only thing to fill the void was the crackling of the enchanted fire that always sprang to life whenever I walked through the door. My eyes were fixed on the floorboards, studying every grain of wood as I put together what had just happened. 

I had told Azriel about the bond, and I did it in anger. I had imagined telling him a million different ways over the past 400 years but never did imagine doing it out of spite. I was just so angry with Elain and her insufferable entitlement that had me seeing red. If anyone should act in such a manner, it should be me, I was a princess after all. 

I was furious with Elain there was no doubt about that, but the voice that kept echoing in my mind was Azriel’s. How he yelled at me. I had known him my whole life and I had never once been afraid of him, until today. 

As if he was tired of the silence, Lucien brushed his hand under my chin bringing my gaze to his, it wasn’t until then that I realized I was crying. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, brows furrowing at my tear stained cheeks. 

“Yeah,” I laughed him off, wiping the water from my face. 

“I’m sorry I interfered like that, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to speak to him or if you wanted me to kick his ass. But he seemed mad and I wouldn’t stand for him yelling at you.” Lucien apologized leaning against the back of the couch a good three feet away sensing I needed some space. 

“I suppose that I wasn’t sure what I wanted either,” I sigh leaning against the doorframe. “Thank you for stepping in. I think it was for the best.” 

“Of course, I’ll always be there for you,” Lucien nods before resuming his staredown with the floor, probably trying to make sense of everything just like I was. “Az seemed…concerned for you. I think the bond snapped for him.” 

“It did,” I say, running my hand over my chest, as if I could touch the faint glow of the bond that now sat in my chest. “It clicked the moment he saw us in the kitchen.”

“Are you happy it clicked?” he asked, once again asking all the questions I truly didn’t have an answer for, at least not yet. 

“I-I’m not sure.” I say honestly, knowing I didn’t need to hide my true feelings from Lu. “I’ve pictured him finding out a million ways, but over the last couple years I’ve kind of given up on the whole endeavor. I felt like I made it clear that I liked him, and he only met me with complaints about other women. First Mor and then Elain.” 

“Maybe he’s changed,” Lucien pointed out. 

“Even if he had it’s not because he loves me.” I murmured sadly. “You heard him in there. He only wants me because he feels entitled to me. He never once acted like he cared about me beyond being his best friend's little sister.” 

“I suppose you’re right, it’s hard to forgive 400 years of cruel behavior,” Lucien muttered, still staring at that little spot on the floor. 

I strode across the room and leaned against the couch with him. I wanted to say something, anything to break the silence. But it was as if all the air had been sucked from the room in one foul swoop. I had just let out a 400 year old secret and for the first time ever, our mates seemed to give a damn about us. I look to Lucien who is still processing everything and I recall how Elain was so upset to see her mate with another female.

“Elain…” I started, wanting to tread carefully. “She seemed pretty upset,” I said, only stating the obvious. 

Lucien chuckled, “Yeah, I think that’s the first time she’s ever called me her mate.” 

“And how do you feel about that?” I ask wanting to give him the same room to speak that he gave me. I knew if he didn’t feel like sharing he wouldn’t, Lucien was no pushover. 

“I feel strangely happy,” he says and for the first time since we got back his lip curls into a half smile. “I think that she might be willing to give me a chance.” 

My heart warms at the idea of Lucien finally getting to have a chance with his true mate, “I’m really happy for you Lu,” I smile, patting his hand that sat on the back of the couch. 

He snaps out of his trance, “that’s not to say that you’re not- you’re a wonderful woman y/n-” he rambles. 

“Hey, HEY!” I shout getting his attention. “I’m happy for you Lucien. You deserve this,” I laugh at his attempt to not hurt my feelings. 

“Thank you y/n,” he smiles, grabbing my hands and squeezing them. 

“What do we do now though,” I sigh looking at his family ring on my finger. 

His eyes flit to the ring as well as his thumb brushes over it, “We continue on as normal, we can push back the wedding. I’m not confident in what Elain wants from me at this point and you clearly are at odds with Azriel. If things don’t work out…” he trails off thinking about hsi next words. “If things don’t work out I would still be honored to have you as my wife. I still feel like we could make eachother happy.” he says earnestly. 

I look into his eyes of russet and gold and see that he truly means every word, “Okay,” I nod my voice barely above a whisper. 

“Okay,” he agrees, keeping his voice down as well. “Shall we head to bed?” he asks. 

“We shall,” I laugh, following him up the stairs. 

That night we didn’t make love, we cuddled as normal though, but somehow even that felt wrong, now that the bond I prayed over for so long hummed within my chest.

 While the little High Lord in training was typically quite docile, he had just learned to crawl and had begun flapping his little wings, which meant trouble was becoming the new normal. Which is exactly what had happened today…

“Nyx no!” I shouted as he reached for a heavy book on one of the bookshelves, his tiny wings helping him to gain the extra inch or two of ground he needed. 

I grabbed him from underneath his shoulders and brought him into my arms, bouncing him on my hip as his eyes caught the shiny necklace I was wearing. His little hands grabbed at it and I figured it was better than a vase or another heavy book. 

“Just wait till he can actually fly,” Lucien chuckled, coming up behind me.

“That won’t be for quite a while thankfully,” I laugh, bouncing the babe up and down.

“Are you so sure about that? Cassian seems to already be giving him lessons.” he points out. 

“I don’t even want to think about a flying toddler,” I scoff and Lucien chuckles behind me. 

 He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and I could feel his lips curling into a smile.“You’re going to be a great mother one day” he admitted. 

“I’ve always wanted children,” I said and a beat of silence passed until I decided to be bold. “Lu, do you think we could ever have children?” I ask, afraid to turn around and possibly see a wary look on his face.

I felt Lucien’s chuckle reverberate behind me, “Of course, I’ve always been fond of children myself,” he laughed. 

I whipped around with Nyx to search his eyes for a hint of uncertainty, but he seemed happy about the idea, “Really?” I asked in disbelief. 

“Of course,” he assured me. 

“I want a million just like little Nyx here,” I smile looking at the babe in my arms. 

“Minus the wings of course,” Lucien laughs behind me and I pause. 

My entire life I had always pictured my children with wings. Small, delicate little things that I would ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ over.  I remembered seeing the Illyrian children in Windhaven growing up, I was always so happy when mothers would let me hold their babies, their wings so adorably small. I looked forward to having winged children of my own, I always pictured them scaling Azriel when they were little like Nyx, and as they got older I would watch as Az taught them to fly.

“What is it my dear?” Lucien asked, breaking me out of my trance. 

“Oh it’s nothing, it’s just that when I pictured my children I always figured they would have wings,” I say, pressing a kiss to Nyx’s temple. 

As if summoned, Azriel walked in, Rhys and Feyre in tow, signaling that their meeting was over. His eyes flitted to me, no doubt having heard what I had said. Lucien’s hand tightened on my hip.

Feyre’s eyes sparkled at the sight of her son and Rhys eyes sparkled at the sight of Feyre taking their babe from my arms. I reluctantly gave Nyx back, already missing being able to pretend he was my own. 

“He was a little angel,” I report to Feyre.

“If by angel you mean hellion,” Lucien chuckles behind me. 

“I would expect nothing less from a child raised by this family,” Rhys laughed, wrapping one arm around Feyre and brushing a hand against his son’s cherub cheeks. 

A silence rolled over the room as we all watched the little family reunite. I couldn’t help but flit my eyes to Azriel, who looked at them with a grin and a longing in his eyes. His eyes find me and I don’t dare look away. 

“Can we talk?” Azriel asked timidly, taking a step away from the doorway he leaned against. Feyre and Rhys take out of the room, no doubt feeling the change in the atmosphere.  

I searched his eyes for a hint of aggression but all I found was remorse, “Yes we may,” I say quietly.

Lucien releases his grip on my hip as I follow Azriel into Rhysand’s study and close the door behind me with a resolute click signaling that I was locked in here with him. Az takes up residence by Rhys’ desk, leaning against it like some sort of tortured man. I couldn’t help but notice he was still in his fighting leathers, his wings tucked in tight and his knuckles perched over his lips, like he was contemplating what to say. Even now, when he was at his most vulnerable, he was so beautiful. 

“I’m sorry for the way I acted last night. I yelled at you and I shouldn’t have,” he says fidgeting a bit. “Its just… it’s just that I was so pissed when I found him with his hands all over you and you just seemed so happy.” 

He sighs running a hand through his hair staring at the ground, still unable to meet my eyes. 

“I think that’s what bothered me the most,” he continues. “You seemed…happy.”

“You were upset because I was happy?” I scoff furrowing my brows at him, the fucking gall of this male. 

“No, no! Gods y/n,” he corrects me, running his hands down his face clearly upset with himself. “I think I was upset because I wasn’t the one making you happy.” he finally says and I can hear the vulnerability in his voice. 

I’m completely taken back by his words, at the fact that he admitted that he wanted to be the one to make me happy like that. The way Lucien did. It didn’t make any sense, given the fact that he never showed me in the last 400 years. 

“That’s funny coming from a male who’s been complaining to me about the females he’s been in love with for the past 400 years.” I deadpan, crossing my arms. 

“Is that how long you’ve known? 400 years?” he asked me, voice rising a bit. 

I nod, “I knew the night you danced with me on solistance in the Hewn City all those years ago,” I confess. 

“Fuck y/n,” he groans running his hands down his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because you started panting after Mor and the second you gave up on her in walked Elain!” I shouted, it was the most obvious thing ever as to why I didn’t tell him. 

“You had to know that you were first,” he says, snapping his head up to meet mine, pleading in those hazel eyes. 

I gave him a blank stare not knowing what he was talking about. 

“Please tell me you know you were the first, before Mor, before Elain, I was practically on my knees for you,” he confessed. 

Once again I’m left speechless. Could it be true? That he had wanted me before I even knew about the bond? 

I shook my head, even if it was true he was speaking in past tense. I didn’t want him to be my mate because he felt like he had to be, I wanted him to love me, truly love me. I wanted him to choose me.

“I had no idea,” I admit feeling a bit of shame. “But that doesn’t matter anymore, it’s all in the past. I’m not mad at you Azriel.” 

“Thank the cauldron,” he breathes, crossing the room to cup my face.

I place my  hands on his wrists and pull them away from me, “Az I think that you should be with Elain,” I say, stepping back from him. 

“What? No.” he shakes his head and I take another step back.

“You clearly love her and she loves you, the cauldron made a mistake by making us mates, it's as simple as that,” I say trying to hide my tears.

I loved Az, a part of me always would, but I wouldn’t be his consolation prize just because the cauldron fucked up and made me his mate instead of Elain. I couldn’t live with that. 

“No don’t say that, please don’t say that,” Az pleads, his voice softening. 

“I’m sorry Azriel but I won’t be your consolation prize,” I say before grabbing the door handle and walking out into the living room where Lucien was. 

Azriel goes to say more until he hears the hitch in my breath. There, before me, Lucien is tucking a stray hair out of Elain’s face and placing a kiss on her knuckles. A sweet gesture, one I’ve probably read about a thousand times in my romance novels. Lucien’s eyes flit to mine, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen him so happy. 

“We’re going to give it a shot,” he smiles happily, putting an arm around Elain. 

“Really?” I ask looking to Elain who smiles brightly. 

“Yeah we are,” she says smiling up at Lucien. 

“Oh I’m so happy for you two,” I cheer before engulfing them both in a hug. 

“Congrats you guys,” Azriel mutters from behind me, seemingly abandoning whatever he was going to say to me in favor of praising his friends. 

Lucien chuckles at my excitement, “Don’t get too excited, we’re going to have to move my stuff out of your place today, I think it’s time I move back into the townhouse,” he smiled. 

“Well what are we waiting for? Let’s get started!” I cheer, grabbing his hands to winnow us away. 

In reality I wasn’t excited about the idea of moving, and much less excited about the idea of my little townhouse being empty again. But I needed to get away from Azriel. 

One week later:

After the all day affair of moving Lucien’s accumulated stuff out of my house and in the townhouse I was back to loving alone. Which at first wasn’t terrible. I was content to read my book and cook for myself when necessary. But after about a week I began to miss the food Lucien would make, or having someone to lie next to. It was a strange feeling, it felt like a breakup, but I wasn’t sad. I missed having another heartbeat in the house, not Lucien himself. 

After a week of getting my affairs in order my brother finally asked me for some help and I was thankful for the distraction. All week I had been in my own head about all that had happened, with Lu and Elain, with me and Az. I needed a break to think of something else. 

That’s how I found myself slipping on an old day court dress and getting ready to winnow to see Helion, an old friend of mine. I was leaving the house and locking the door when I ran smack into a large chest I screamed being taken off guard. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” a familiar voice apologized, I turn to find Azriel standing before me. 

“It’s okay, I should’ve been paying more attention,” I chuckle awkwardly. I hadn’t heard from the spymaster in a week, why would he come to talk to me now?    

Azriel’s eyes furrow from where they tower over me, “Why are you dressed for the Day Court?” he inquires. 

“Oh well,” I look down at the swaths of white fabric that cascaded down my body, suddenly feeling a bit exposed from off the shoulder dress. “Rhys wants me to go and schmooze Helion a little bit. Something about wanting to get him to agree to better trade deals.” I laugh remembering how my brother agonized over it the other day. 

“So he wants you to go and flirt with Helion?” Az cocks an eyebrow at me. 

“Well Helion and I go way back, and he’s always been…well keen on me.” I say honestly and I watch as Az bristles just a bit. I can’t even count the number of times the High Lord as tired to get Cassian and I in his bed

“I’ll give Rhys one thing he sure is ruthless,” Azriel chuckles trying to play off his nerves. 

“Is there something I can do for you?” I ask, still wondering why he’s here, at my doorstep. 

“Oh uh, no,” Azriel stutters. “Well actually I was walking by and I saw this and I thought of you.” he says pulling out a white rose. It looked like he had plucked it right off the bush down the street. “I thought you should have it.” he finished. 

I take the rose from his hand and notice that the thorns have all been cut off. I eye Truth Teller strapped at his side and the lingering thorn that was still stuck on its sharp blade. 

“That was very thoughtful of you Az thank you,” I tell him sweetly, taken back by his gesture. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, seemingly relaxing at my acceptance of his gift. 

I check my watch, “Well I really do have to go, Helion is waiting for me,” I wince moving past him on the stairs so I can get past the words my brother has on my place. 

“Yes of course,” Az says following me down the steps and out the wrought iron fence. “Do you need a ride?” 

“I’m okay, I can winnow,” I chuckle, closing the gate behind me. 

“Well I guess I’ll see you later then,” Azriel voices with a hint of a sigh. 

“Yeah I’m sure you will,” I reply before winnowing into Helion’s mansion. 

How could Az be so calm about all this? It was like he was trying to force himself to have feelings for me, figuring he better learn to love me now that he’s shackled to me for eternity. Part of me wondered if Rhys had given him a firm talking to and convinced him to attempt to like me.

“There she is,” Helion mused from the top of the stairs coming down the stairs dressed in his usual attire. Part of me hated that I found him attractive, in another life, if he wasn’t so promiscuous, I might’ve seen myself standing by his side. 

“Helion,” I smile, pulling him in for a hug. 

When we pull away his hands linger at my waist and his eyes look at the rose in my hand. “What’s this?” he asks plucking the rose from my hand. 

I think about the encounter with Azriel, how forced it all felt.

“It’s nothing,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. 

Helion tosses the flower aside before throwing his arm over my shoulder and leading me inside, “So, your brother has sent you to convince me to agree to his new trade agreements.” he smirks.

“He’s done nothing of the sort, I came to visit an old friend of my own accord,” I tease, knowing Helion isn’t as daft as Rhys makes him out to be. 

“We’ll see about that new treaty after some wine, and tell your brother that next time he wants to use you against me as leverage he should just send you naked,” Helion chuckles. 

I erupt in laughter, slapping his arm as he leads us to a white couch with a bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table. 

Three days later after successfully getting Helion to agree to a new trade treaty I found myself sitting in my living room with a glass of wine enjoying the fruits of my labors. As soon as I told Rhys about the High Lord of Day’s cooperation he sent me one of his finest bottles of wine as a thank you. Not that I required any thanks, I enjoyed spending time with Helion. 

My silence was interrupted by my door opening and closing. I just about jumped out of my skin, the only one who had the key to the place was Lucien and he had given it back a long time ago. My heart pounded as I stood from the couch in my nightgown and robe. I had turned in for the night and certainly wasn’t expecting visitors. I lift my romance novel over my head and step around he couch ready to swing when I see Azriel locking the door behind him quietly. 

“Azriel you scared the hell out of me,” I sigh, lowering the book. 

He turns from the door looking me up and down taking in my casual attire hungrily. “I’m sorry I guess I’m just used to walking right in, I wanted to give you these,” he says holding out a large bouquet of white roses, exactly like the kind he gave me the other day.”

“Thank you Az, they’re beautiful,” I say wearily, taking them from his scarred hands. “I’ll uh- I’ll just put them in water,” I tell him, padding into the kitchen to grab a vase and fill it. 

“I thought since you liked the other one I gave you that you might like those ones too,” he says walking into the kitchen and leaning in my doorway. 

I place the two dozen roses in a vase,“Well I appreciate them, it’s been a while since I’ve had fresh flowers in the house,” I divulge to him, remembering how Lucien used to bring them home all the time. He would always ask for Elain to make him a bouquet, his little way of speaking to her in a way that didn’t make her uncomfortable. The thought had me thinking of how Lucien and Elain were probably sitting at a nice dinner right now, had me questioning why the fuck Azriel was here. 

A silence fills the room as Azriel sits admiring either me or the flowers, from where I’m standing it could be either or. I walk around the kitchen island to test the theory and sure enough his eyes follow me as I lean my back against the side closer to him.  A wave of embarrassment slips over me. Did Rhys ask him to bring more flowers again? Was I really that pathetic? 

“Az why are you doing this?” I ask, gesturing to the flowers behind me. 

Azriel straightens taking a tentative step towards me, “Because I want what Elain and Lucien have. I want you to give me a chance to be a good mate,” he says softly. 

I look to the wooden floors below me, my bare feet messing with a loose floorboard, “You don’t have to do this Azriel. If Rhys sent you I’ll just cover for you and say you came.” I say not daring to look at him. 

“I’m not here because of Rhys, I’m here because I want to see you,” he implored and I heard his feet shuffle closer. 

“I’m still not your consolation prize just because Lucien and Elain are doing well. I won’t do that to myself,” I say, continuing to mess with the loose floorboard. 

“You’re not my consolation prize y/n, you’re my mate.” Azriel states, his voice becoming more urgent causing me to tighten my arms around myself ever so slightly. 

His boots come into my line of sight and suddenly he’s titling my chin up to meet his pleading gaze. I’m suddenly all too aware of how underdressed I was. There was a time when I would’ve killed for this. But now? I won’t let myself be hurt again.

“Y/n please-” 

“Azriel I’m at peace,” I snap, cutting him off and looking down at our feet once again even though his hand still rested under my chin. “For the first time in 400 years I’m at peace. I have loved, and pined, and thrown myself at your feet for 400 years, and I am finally happy in my exile. So forgive me if I’m hesitant to give that up so quickly because you all of the sudden want a mate.” I bit out.

His shadows dance around my hands and I move my fingers out of their grasp, like their cold kiss was burning me.I wait for him to say something back, for him to breathe wrong, yell at me or leave but he doesn’t move. I let my eyes flit up to his, and I find him staring down at me, like he’s been waiting for me to look at him this whole time. 

“I’m not going to give up,” he states, if he was sad or upset by my previous words he doesn’t show it. 

I sigh, tossing my head back, “Az please,” I beg. 

“No I’m serious, I’m not giving up on you, on us,” he maintained steadfastly, his hands not leaving my cheek as he steps even closer to me and my back hits the cool granite behind me. 

“Azriel I think you should go,” I grit out, the second my body stiffens under his he steps back giving me my space. 

“Alright I’ll go,” he says, taking a step back.

I follow him to the door and hold it open as he steps out into the cool night air that has me wrapping my silk robe around me tighter, as if it was helping anything anyways. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he assures me before shooting off into the sky. 

“I really wish you wouldn’t!” I shout into the air after him before slamming the door and locking it. 

I take a deep breath once I’m seated on my couch again, trying to salvage any sort of peace I might still have. But that tranquility was disappearing in my hands the more I chased it. 

The following day I head to Rhys’ house to talk over the new adjustments in the Day Court trade agreements. It was supposed to be easy enough, but as things got more and more complex it ended up being an all day thing. By the time I walked up the steps to my own townhouse I was exhausted and starving. I wasn’t looking forward to bread for dinner as I had no time to go to the market today. 

I kicked open the door and locked it behind me, the smell of fresh tomatoes and basil wafted through the air causing me to pause in my tracks. Was Lucien here? Had him and Elain gotten in a fight or something?

“Ah shit!” I heard a male cuss followed by the searing of liquid on a burner. 

I curiously walk around the corner of the kitchen where I’m greeted with the sight of Azriel, standing in my apron, reading my cookbook and stirring some sort of sauce. His shadows were helping him turn the pages of the book. I see the spilled sauce on the burner that was the cause of his profanity just moments ago. 

“There you are,” he smirked, his eyes flitting up to mine before reading the book again. 

“Az what are you doing here?” I ask, setting my bag down on the table. 

“Making you dinner,” he said, gesturing to the numerous used pans and utensils lying around my once clean kitchen. 

I walk over to inspect what he’s cooking. Fresh herb crusted chicken cooks in the pan next to him while he stirs a red sauce. In the sink is cooked pasta sitting next to freshly sauteed green beans. I inhale the smell of the food deeply and I can’t help but feel myself salivate a little, it smells delicious. 

“You always dog ear the recipes you want to try but you never make them for fear of not liking them,” he says nonchalantly as he prods at the chicken. 

I look down at the cookbook he’s reading, sure enough the recipe he’s making has a bent corner. I had been itching to try it but had never found the time. 

“If you end up not liking it there’s take out from Rita’s in the ice box,” he said using the spoon to point to the ice box in the corner of the room.

I look up to fully inspect him. This all feels like a ridiculous practical joke. If someone had told me that my spymaster would be cooking me dinner I would’ve laughed in their face. Upon further inspection I realize he’s shirtless, save for my apron he’s wearing. 

“Was the half nudity necessary?” I cock an eyebrow leaning against the counter. 

Azriel barked out a laugh, “It took me a while to find the apron, I had gotten tomato juice on my shirt when I started chopping them up for the sauce so I took it off and washed it,” he explained the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. “Plus I figured the whole shirtless bit might win me more brownie points with you.” 

I rolled my eyes at his cockiness, I didn’t dare let him know how right he was. 

He laughed at my reaction, “Why don’t you go sit down, dinner’s almost ready.” he said gesturing to the couch. 

I shrugged my shoulders and padded my way over to my favorite reading spot. The one he found me in yesterday. I plop down on the velvet sofa and there in front of me on the coffee table, my book has been left open to the place I bookmarked and a glass of wine sits for me. I raise an eyebrow but decide to just roll with it, I pick up the book and sip on the wine, becoming engrossed with the story.

A few minutes later I feel the cold begin to bite at my toes. I look around for a blanket and see that the nearest one is across the room. I curse at the idea of having to move, but before I can even set my book down one of Azriel’s shadows is scurrying across the room to retrieve the knitted blanket for me. The wisp of darkness arranges the blanket neatly over my legs, tucking me in like a mother would her child.  I can’t help but laugh at the care the little thing is putting into the job. 

Azriel’s shadows looking out for me was nothing new, the second the bond clicked for me they tended to stay near me. Picking up pens and silverware I dropped on the floor and always twirling around my hair and wrists. There were even times they would try to drag Az near me, like on starfall and solstice, nights I looked especially beautiful. But he would always curse and wave them off until they left him alone. 

The little shadow perched itself on my shoulder as if it too wanted to read my book. I could sense it was trying to anticipate any other small need I might have. 

“You know he might be insufferable but you guys are pretty great,” I laugh looking at the curious being. 

In response the shadow boops itself on my nose as if it was giving me a kiss. 

“Don’t tell them that or they’ll get a big head,” Azriel murmurs behind me where he’s leaning against the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, still shirtless and wearing that damned apron.

“In that case I’ll be sure to praise them more often, they’re little angels,” I smile as the tendril of darkness dances around my collar. 

Azriel lets out a small chuckle behind me, “Dinner is ready,” he tells me before disappearing into the kitchen once more. 

I follow him as the small shadow frantically pulls at my wrist towards the table, as if it’s eager for me to see what it helped its master cook. When I walk into the darkened kitchen and find that Az has set the table not only with our dinner but with candles and another bouquet. This time it’s an arrangement of jasmine, no doubt from the florist down the street. 

I sit down and inhale the heavenly scent of the white flowers and hum in delight. Azriel comes in with a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring us each a bit. He sees me admiring the flowers and smiles. 

“Jasmine, like your perfume,” he says, putting down the bottle and taking his seat next to me. 

I smile and look down at the plate before me. It looks delicious, the pasta is fragrant with basil, the chicken is cooked to perfection and the green beans are vibrant and green. I lift my fork and dig into the past first. The moment it hits my tongue the flavor melts in my mouth, rich, bold and oh so savory. I let out a moan as my eyes flit to Azriel who is watching me expectantly wondering if I’m going to like it or not. 

“This is incredible,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand so he doesn’t see me chewing. 

“Thank the cauldron I thought I put too much red pepper in,” he breathes out, seemingly relaxing before digging into his own plate. 

“No it’s perfect, thank you really,” I say earnestly. 

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, taking a bite of chicken.

We sit and eat our meals in silence simply enjoying the good food. A little shadow flitted up in front of my face to gauge my reaction to the bite of chicken I was chewing. I couldn’t help but laugh as it shifted like it was cocking its head at me. 

“Yes it’s very good, you did a wonderful job,” I laugh at the little fella. 

My giggle brings Azriel’s attention to me once again and before I know it he’s waving his hand at the little tendril like he’s swatting a fly. 

“Hey go away let her eat for the love of god,” he chastises as the shadow slinks back behind him. 

“Don’t worry it wasn’t bothering me,” I laugh taking another bite of green beans. 

“Yeah well they haven’t been listening lately,” he says looking back at the little shadow that had slinked behind his shoulder like a reprimanded child. 

I shake my head at the two of them interacting and take another sip of wine. To be honest I wasn;t really sure what to say to Azriel. Despite his valiant efforts to win me I still wasn’t ready to abandon the peace I had grown so fond of. 

“You know it’s funny,” he tells me, playing with the food on his plate. “I feel like my shadows have always liked you. It was like they knew before I did,” he laughed nervously at his confession. 

“Maybe so,” I shrug, not wanting to broach the subject, the friendlier we could make this the better.

“I can remember times when they would drag me into any room that had you in it. Most of the time I control them, but when it comes to you? They control me.” he laughs while taking a sip of his wine. 

“Thank you again for dinner,” I say, forcibly changing the topic of conversation. “It’s been a while since I had a home cooked meal. I think the local restaurants have my to-go orders memorized now.” I laugh. 

“Lucein used to cook for you didn’t he?” Azriel asks, and I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my head as I play with the pasta on my plate. 

“Yeah he did, he was a surprisingly good cook too,” I say, recalling the traditional Autumn Court meals he would cook all the time. They were mostly for him, for when he was feeling nostalgic, but he always left some for me as well. 

Azriel sits for a moment as if debating whether or not to say something for a moment. “Did you love him?” he asks. 

My fork clatters to the plate at the abrupt question and I’ve never felt so put on the spot. It was never something I had thought about in regards to the autumn court male. Love seemed like an emotion  that would be reserved for Azriel and Azriel alone, until one day it wasn’t. I didn’t love Lucien, but I certainly stopped loving Az in that way, or at least I think I did.

“No I didn’t” I say honestly turning to meet the shadowsingers gaze. “Lucien and I… it was never like that. We both knew what we needed for each other, it started as just sex. But then he would stay the night, and then we started going to breakfast. His shirts started showing up in the laundry hamper, his books on the coffee table. Eventually I just gave him a key, it seemed like the logical thing to do. We didn’t even label our relationship until he asked me to marry him.” 

“I wasn’t sure,” Azriel said, going back to shyly staring down at the table. “I overheard your conversation that one day. When you asked him about the possibility of having children. You said that you always pictured your children having wings, was that true?” he inquired. 

I nod shallowly, unable to trust my own words in such a raw moment. 

If Az had any other questions he didn’t ask them or press me to talk about the two of us, it was as if he was happy with the answers I did give him. He was perfectly content to let me finish eating my meal in comfortable silence. When I was finished he cleared the table and didn’t let me lift a finger to help clean. Instead those pesky shadows cornered me into reading my book once more. 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he came in, dressed in his shirt once more to bid me goodnight. He insisted that I stay in my comfortable spot by the couch as he walked himself out locking the door behind him. As the comfortable silence, which I had grown so used to, ensued, I found myself silently wishing he had stayed just a little longer.

The following weeks were spent with little visits from shadows and shadowsingers. Sometimes it would be Azriel showing up at my door with coffee or gifts. Other times, when Rhys had Azriel on missions he would find ways to leave things at my doorstep. The first time it was another bouquet of flowers and then chocolates. 

My favorite gift from Azriel had been the books. The first set he got me was the second and third book in my series. They appeared at my door the morning after he made me dinner with a note that read…

I noticed that you were almost done with your book last night so I went out to get you the second book. I noticed it was a short book so I got you the third in case you finished it in one day like you no doubt will. 

-Azriel

Of course he was right and I finished the second book by the end of the day. When I opened the third, and much longer book, to begin reading it a bookmark fell out and another note. 

I figured you might need a bookmark for this one.

-Azriel

He was right about that as well. 

The next book to be delivered was a classic romance with certain pages, and quotes underlined. His notes scribbled in the margins. Clearly he had taken the time to read the novel himself. When I saw the first annotation I expected his further notes to be corny or cheesy, but each one was well thought out. 

The most recent literally delivery was a small and short book about different types of flowers. Between each of the pages sat a live flower that corresponded with the page. It was possibly the most vibrant and beautiful bouquet I had ever seen and by far my favorite floral gift I had received. 

This week though things had been different. As the colder months were drifting in I started spending more time inside, reading by the fire. But not once had Azriel stopped by. Not a present, not a note to be found. When I subtly asked Rhys were the shadowsinger was he told me he was in the isle of Hybern. 

A week had come and gone without so much as a tendril of a shadow to be seen. I sat infront of my roaring fire with a book in hand trying to escape the bitter cold. Outside the first snowfall of the year had taken the form of a blizzard. I pitied the shopkeepers that would have to walk home in it. 

Around midnight I heard the scraping of metal against stone from outside my house. I jumped out of my skin and quickly looked at the clock noting the late hour. I set down my novel to wrap myself in a blanket and pad over to the front door. I could already hear the winds outside and feel the cold air seeping in through the cracks in the door. 

I open the door to investigate the strange sound and I nearly gasp when I find Azriel outside my house shoveling my walkway with a small shovel from my garden. One meant for digging out plants and trees, not snow. 

“Az what are you doing?” I ask, making the spymaster jump a bit. 

“I’m shoveling your walkway. I didn’t want you to slip tomorrow morning or hurt your back trying to shovel it yourself,” he said, digging into the snow again with the little metal shovel. 

“Oh Az you don’t have to do that,” I coo walking out into the cold pulling my blanket tighter. 

“I don’t have to but I want to,” he said shoveling more snow. “It wouldn’t take so long if I had a bigger shovel.” he grunts, frustrated.

“Well why didn’t you take Rhys’ shovel?” I laughed watching as the overgrown Illyrain tried to mangle the tiny thing. 

“Well I just got back from Hybern, I saw it had snowed and I came here first.” he explained and my heart swelled. He had come to my place first before he even went home. “I figured if I didn’t do it you would fall and break your head open.” 

“Azriel, really you don’t have to do this, I can handle it,” I plead with him feeling bad that he’s subjected himself to the weather. 

He stops his shoveling and turns to look at me, “y/n I want to do this. Don’t worry about it.” he says before looking me up in down seeing that I’m in nothing but a short nightgown and a blanket. “Now go inside before you catch a cold.” 

“Me? What about you?” I laugh looking around at the snow falling around us. 

“I’m Illyrian the snow doesn’t bother me,” he retorts and I can tell that he’s lying by the pink in his cheeks from the cold.

“Well I’m half Illyrian,” I counter, swinging back and forth on my heels. 

“Then I’m sure half of you is really cold,” he rebuttals. “Now go back inside and get warm before I carry you inside myself.” he smirks before shoveling up another heap of snow. 

I just shake my head and retreat to the warm fireplace awaiting me. 

I waltz into the House of Wind  where the Solstice party is in full swing. Lords from neighboring courts are chatting and drinking all around and from the corner of the room I can hear Cassian’s booming laugher as he doubles over at something Helion has said. 

Like almost every solstice party I arrive fashionably late. I truly never mean to be the last to arrive, but it feels like the whole guest list decides to arrive early just to spite me. I make my way around the area where couples and children are dancing to a small quartet and head toward the bar. My dress billows behind me like liquid starlight. Just like every solstice party before this one, I will get by with copious amounts of wine. 

I lean against the bar and watch as Elain and Lucien laugh and giggle across the room. I smile as Elain pops a pastry into Lu’s mouth and I can’t help but feel a warmness in my chest at the two of them. Lucien was finally happy with his mate, and if there was ever someone who deserved such happiness it was him. 

My thoughts are interrupted by a shadowy friend making its presence known. Flying up by my face to say hello and then rushing behind me as if it was called. I turn to see Azriel dressed immaculately staring at me. His eyes flit up and down my body taking in every detail of me.

“You look…” He trails off, shaking his head, as if the words he was going to say wouldn’t be the right ones. “There are no words. Even the poets would get it wrong.”

I can’t help but blush at his choice of words, taking a step toward him as the shadows behind me are pushing me to do so. 

“You clean up pretty good yourself, spymaster,” I chuckle giving him a once over.

He blushes and then speaks again, “I mean it, you look beautiful tonight y/n.” 

I blush again and turn my head to avoid his gaze, like that shade of hazel might burn me from the inside out if I look too long.

“You must allow me to dance with you,” he says, taking both our drinks and placing them on the bar. “Not having you out on that dance floor would be a disservice to everyone here.”

I laugh taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to lead me to the dancefloor, “Alright Az you’ve convinced me, but only because I know you won’t step on my feet,” 

We fall into a comfortable motion, swaying back and forth to the slow tempoed song the quartet is playing. The couples around us filter around us, some lost in deep conversation, some embraced closely swaying to the song. I keep my eyes on them, knowing that Azriel’s gaze is on me. 

Memories of a solstice much like this one float through my mind. The way my feet ached before Azriel saved me, sweeping me up into a dance. The way the bond felt when it snapped into place for me. I had pulled on it so desperately hoping he might feel it too. I thought of all the years of agony that followed that night. Watching Az fall for Mor and later on Elain. Hearing my brother and Cassian talking about Azriel’s exploits in bedding local women. All of it tore me apart and it took over 200 years to rebuild the part of me that I had lost. I wondered if I would ever be whole like that again. 

I hear Elain and Lucien’s laughter once more, the sound breaking me from my thoughts as Azriel and I continue to sway to the music. 

“They make a great couple,” Azriel’s deep voice rumbles through me. 

I smile watching Lucine place a kiss to his mates lips, “They really do,” I say with a lightness to my voice. 

“Do you think we’ll ever be like that?” He asks tentatively and my world comes crashing down. 

“Az,” I say and his face falls at the dismissal in my tone. 

“Why not y/n? Why can’t we have a shot like they can?” Azriel says starting to get upset.

As if on queue the song that the quartet is playing ends and I hear the musicians flipping through their sheet music to find the next song. I pull my hands out of Azriel’s and take a few steps back.

“I think it’s time for me to go,” I say calmly, trying not to let the damn of tears break. I swiftly move past him towards the door. 

“Y/n wait!” I hear him call out behind me but I’m already out the door, my tears falling down my face as I make my way back to that empty townhouse in the middle of the city. 

The rain outside my house slams into the window violently. Spring has come early in Velaris and I wasn’t exactly upset about it. At least I wasn’t until this torrential downpour blew into town. I hadn’t seen rain like this in the Night Court for at least a hundred years now.

It’s been weeks since solstice and it seems that Azriel has finally taken the hint and left me alone. I hadn’t heard a peep from him since that dance. Not a flower, chocolate or shadow to be seen and while I should be happy about it I had never been sadder. After all the walls I put up trying to keep my peace it seemed that he had succeeded in breaking them down again. 

I sat by the fire staring down at the dancing flames, no book, not even a glass of wine or tea. Just me and my all consuming thoughts. Each one of them led back to hazel eyes and blue siphons. 

I jump at the sound of a fist pounding on my door. Pulling my sweater tighter to cover up my nightgown I walk over to investigate who would have the guts to stand out in this monsoon at this hour. When I open the door I find Azriel bracing his arms against the doorframe, out of breath like he ran here. His hair soaking wet and sticking to his brow as the rain pelted him. 

“Az?” I shout over the sound of rain. 

“I can’t go on like this any longer y/n, I won’t do it!” he shouts over the storm. 

“Az it’s pouring what are you-” 

“I love you y/n!” he shouts stopping me mid sentence. “From the moment I met you I knew. I wanted so badly to put my hands around your waist and kiss you. And if you’re wondering why that seems like such an adolescent dream it’s because that’s what we both were. I was 117 years old and  you were 115 and that’s all I wanted. I knew little of love, even less of lust. All I knew was that I wanted to kiss you,” he hollers over the sound of rain wiping the water from his eyes.

“I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve hurt you, but I swear to you I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, because I love you. And I don’t care that you don’t love me too, because I love you y/n. I choose to love you!” he finishes and I can’t tell if it's rain falling from his eyes or tears that match my own. 

I choose to love you.

I take a shaky breath and take in the sheer desperation on his face, “I love you too Azriel,” I laugh feeling another tear slip down my cheek. 

He doesn’t waste a moment, stepping through my threshold and cupping my cheek to place a searing kiss on my lips. I melt into him, feeling his clothes soaking my own as my nightgown clings to my skin. His hands are on my waist, scarred and cold from the elements but still so intoxicating. My arms wrap around him pulling him further into the entryway. I hear him slam the door shut with his boot drowning out the sound of rain leaving only the music of our ragged breaths as he kisses me deeper. 

He pulls away to press his forehead to mine, his wet hair and skin causing drops of water to cascade down my own face. 

“I love you so much,” he breathes cupping my cheek to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “My mate.”

I pull him in deeper at the utterance of those two little words. I had waited 400 years for this male to kiss me, and this kiss right here? Well it made everything all the more worth it. 

Epilogue: 5 years later

I stand outside on the lawn of the townhouse. My arms clutching around the sweater I’m wearing as the fresh spring air blows over my skin. My hands drift lower to the small bump of my stomach. 

I was only a few months pregnant and barely starting to show. Elain had told me that it would be a girl claiming she had seen it in a vision. I couldn’t have been more excited for Azriel to be a girl dad. 

“You’re doing it son!” I hear my mate call from the sky where he teaches our son to fly. 

“Dad, I'm flying!” the onyx haired child shouted as he flapped his wings to pick up some speed.

At first I was apprehensive of him learning to fly so early, even though it had always been a dream of mine to watch my children learn to fly. But Azriel had assured me that the youngster was more than ready, and after a few weeks of lessons here he was taking to the air like a natural. 

I look around at the townhouse behind me. It had seen some significant changes since the night Azriel stood in the rain and told me he loved me. The front yard was littered with toy swords and shields, and the outside had a fresh coat of paint. The inside had a room addition, a room for our son, Kai, and now we're adding another room for our daughter. All paid for by Rhys of course who was more than happy to give his nephew and niece everything under the sun.

My thoughts are interrupted by Azriel slamming into the ground before me. I turn to see him walking over to me with a smile on his face. 

“Az shouldn’t you be up there with him?!” I fuss looking to where our son swoops and dives through the air. 

Azriel laughs and picks me up bridal style, pressing a kiss to my lips. 

“It didn’t feel right being up there without my girls,” he smiled nodding to my bump. 

Without warning he took off into the sky meeting Kai up there. We must’ve spent hours flying around the city, stopping by every uncle and aunt's house to show them Kai’s new skill. Everything was perfect, and for the first time in my whole life, I finally knew peace.

(Do you guys want a smutty bonus chapter of what they did after he confessed his love???)

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[starlostseungmin]

prologue: look what you started ─── lee know (unedited ver.)

✰ pairing : yandere!minho x doctor!fem.reader (she/her pronouns).

✰ genre : crime au, joker x harley quinn trope with a twist, nsfw 18+, romance, toxic relationship, angst.

✰ prologue warnings : profanity, mentions of murder, interrogation room, threats, knife + more and specific warnings will be written on the actual fic MDNI.

✰ prologue word count : 1.2k

✰ notes : been planning this fic for weeks and was inspired by lee know’s gucci photoshoot with wkorea and red velvet’s psycho and chill kill. i might provide a playlist but idk this is my third repost of this prologue btw. please separate fiction from reality. COMMENTS, REBLOGS, and TAGS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED. will post the actual fic either june or july!! stay tuned <33

Changbin slammed a bunch of papers on the table making you cringe at the sound. It was loud yet the fear wasn’t caused by it but what was written on them. 

It was a random afternoon when Han dragged you along with him from your clinic to this godforsaken interrogation room filled with nothing but silence as you were under surveillance from the outside. Changbin stood a meter away with his hands on his waist, waiting for an acceptable answer. You heard a heavy sigh from him as he grew impatient. There was nothing to tell anyway, and you won’t say anything. Not even a word as to what happened. 

“You still won’t talk?” He asked with a smirk formed on his lips. “What do you know about him?” 

You took a deep breath as Changbin leaned forward the second he asked you a questionーstill nothing was coming out of your mouth. It should be a secret, you promised him that and you will never tell. But out of everyone, why you? The papers on that damn desk were his medical records, prescriptions, birth certificate, and the personal information of the people he murdered. A responsible citizen, no, a professional doctor like you would most definitely report a criminal immediately. But you didn’t. 

Instead, you hid him away from everyone even though you knew about the consequences. You will go to jail, that’s for sure. You didn’t even know why you did it. Was it because you were swayed? Terrified? Threatened? Or was it because you voluntarily wanted everything to happen the way it was? 

It should be simple. He was your patient before he became a lover. 

“You wouldn’t turn me in, will you?” He asked pointing the tip of his knife on your neck as you stood in front of the mirrorーbody trembling. 

“N-no,” Your voice cracked. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Y/N, you know that,” He answered, pulling the sharp object away as he buried his face in your neck with his arms wrapped around your waist. “You’re precious to me. I love you,”  You bit your lower lip as tears streamed down your cheeks while reaching for his hands shakilyーholding them tight. 

“I love you too,” You answered staring at your messy reflection in that broken, foggy mirror. “No one will find you, I promise,” 

Upon turning away from Changbin’s face, Chan suddenly entered the room and sat across from the table from where you were sitting. He was cleaning the lenses of his glasses as your eyes glued on your balled fists resting at the hem of your skirt. You didn’t know what had gotten into you and why you ended up in this mess that he started. You were not supposed to tolerate him and yet you did. Were you crazy? Or was he? 

“What information did you get?” Chan asked Changbin, fogging the lenses of his glasses with his breath before proceeding to wipe them again.

Chan is known for being the best detective in the city. There’s no case he couldn’t crack and he’s too smart to be outsmarted by anyone who tries to flee from the law and Changbin being the interrogator made the situation worse. You knew he used to be friends with everyone in this room, especially Han who was outside, listening to every word. No one can escape, not even you. 

There were so many questions, most specifically they were for yourself. A doctor, a foolish one indeed. Who in the right mind would hide a criminal in the countryside for the sake of love? You. Maybe you weren’t in your right mind. And Minho… you can’t just let him go away. He did so much for you already. 

“She’s tight-lipped, she’s not answering any of my questions and it has been two fucking hours, Chan. Two!” You heard Changbin exclaim out of frustration with his jaw tightened. Right, two hours for nothing. 

“No matter how long you want to keep your mouth shut, we won’t let you go,” Chan spokeーtaking his glasses to rest on the bridge of his nose. He was calm as the ocean water in midsummer but you knew he wouldn’t be once he started talking.  “We will find him no matter what, Y/N,” There was a sudden threat and full authority in his voice that made you feel scared. He is one intimidating fucker. Even if you acted strong on the outside, the fear that they’ll find Minho anytime would kill you. 

“You don’t have to do this,” You spoke. Finally. 

“Then tell us what you know. You’re being brainwashed by him, Y/N!” Chan shouted as you stood up, slamming your hands on the deskーglaring at them as if your eyes would burn them. 

“A doctor will never share any confidential information of their patient with someone who is not their guardian!” You arguedーnostrils flared in anger. “Don’t make a fool out of me just because you think I know everything about him and you have the authority to question me. I was brought here against my will without a fucking warrant! And you are expecting me to say something which I won’t so let me go!” It was firm, indeed but they wouldn’t listen.

“You know we can’t do that unless you say something,” Changbin shouted making you slap his cheek causing a loud noise and a tense atmosphere. The man’s eye twitched in shock. For sure he wasn’t expecting that neither did Chan and Han. A harsh sigh escaped from his lips as his hand covered his red cheek, almost cursing the shit out of you but you were just standing there, hands on the desk with your eyes still not calming that death glare. 

“I said, let me go.” You answered, infuriated. They didn’t have a choice and so they did. 

You didn’t even say thank you after that, and what for? There’s nothing to be thankful about. 

Grabbing your bag, you headed out of their office as Han followed you outside. He kept calling your name and to your annoyance, you didn’t want to talk to him. Not with anyone involved in the authority. There’s Minho on the line. You can’t speak further of him anymore. 

“Y/N, you don’t have to be this harsh,” Han said, trying to catch up to your pace. “Minho Hyung was my friend, a precious one, and still is! We just really want to know what happened,” Han pleaded, almost tears in his eyes as you stopped in your tracks to face him. 

“If you want to see him, be a good friend instead of putting a price on his head,” You snapped at him. Han just stood there, breathless and confused as to why you were making a fuss about it just to save Minho’s ass from getting caught.

“He killed someone! He’s a runaway criminal and you’re the only one who knows where he is!” Han argued. 

“I said I don’t!” You yelled as tears started to form in your eyes. “He’s gone, Han! You don’t know where he is, neither do I,” You said. “I wouldn’t be back here if I was with him. He’s gone, Han! So quit thinking that I know!” 

However, there was a short pause between you and him as if he was suspecting you, which was indicated as obvious. Han doesn’t trust you ever since his disappearance but he is so naive, no, every one of them. 

“You’re lying,” Han gasped in between his cries. “I know you did something to him,” 

No, Minho did something to you. 

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[marvelsmylife]

Mr. Pouty face

Pairing: Liam Mairi x reader

Plot: Liam gets pouty when you don’t say I love you back to him.

a/n I am accepting fourth wing requests.

Fourth Wing Masterlist

Request

Everyone in Basgiath knew how sickeningly in love you and Liam were with each other. They constantly heard you exchange ‘I love you' throughout the day and all but fuck out in the open. That’s why Imogen had dared you not to say I love you to Liam the following day during a girl's night in. She knew you wouldn’t last and bet you wouldn’t even last half a day.

“I can so last more than half the day” you argued back “I can go two weeks even.”

Imogen had an amused look on her face at your claims, “Yeah? Let’s make a bet then. No saying I love you to Liam. If you win I’ll do your chores for a month and you’ll do mine if I win. Deal?”

“Deal,” you shook Imogen’s hand to make it official.

You regretted agreeing to the bet the following day when Liam showed up at your door with a smile on his face. “Good morning, my love. How did you sleep last night?”

“Great, but I missed having you in my bed last night,” you replied, lacing your fingers with his as you made your way to the dining hall.

You didn’t miss the confused look on Liam’s face when you didn’t call him love when he greeted you this morning. You also didn’t miss the pouty expression on his face when he repeatedly told you that he loved you in front of your friends, and you either hummed or said thank you instead.

Throughout the day, your friends would pull you aside and ask if everything was alright between you and Liam. “Is everything ok between you and Liam? You never blatantly ignore his affection like you’ve been all day today,” Rhiannon asked, concern laced in her tone.

“It’s a bet,” you whispered while looking over at Liam, who was pouting in the corner with Bodhi, Ridoc, and Sawyer, “I bet Imogen that I could go two weeks without saying I love you to Liam. It was originally only a day, but I needed to prove myself, so I upped it to two weeks. I immediately regretted making this bet this morning, but I can’t lose, so I’ve been distant and short with Liam.”

Rhiannon couldn’t help but laugh at your explanation and drew the attention of all of your friends. That included Liam, who was both pouting and staring at you like a lost puppy, “Sorry, y/n just told me a funny joke.”

Imogen sent you a smirk because she knew what you were talking about. You, in return, just flipped her off and brought your attention back to Rhiannon, who was still laughing. “Rhi stop” you complained, “This isn’t funny. How am I supposed to last two weeks?”

“I honestly don’t know. You two are worse than Violet and Xaden when it comes to PDA, but you better think of something fast; Liam is headed our way,” Rhiannon lightly squeezed your shoulder and motioned for all of your friends to follow her so they could give you privacy.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Liam and smiled at him, “Hey babe, what’s up?”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Liam just blurted out and caused your throat to close.

“No ! ! !” you answered immediately, “What makes you think that?”

Liam began to explain how he felt throughout the day and thought that you not saying you loved him all day made him think you didn’t want to be with him anymore. “Fuck” you cursed under your breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I loved you all day,” you apologized, “I had a stupid bet with Imogen that I could go two weeks without saying I love you to you, but I didn’t realize how hurt you would get by me not telling you I love you. Do you think you can forgive me?”

Liam let out an audible sigh at your words and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Of course I forgive you,” Liam wraps his arms around your body, “But you’re going to have to make up for not saying I love you to me.”

“I’ll do anything just to make you smile,” you smiled up at Liam, “I love you.”

“I love you-”

Liam was cut off by Imogen, who yelled out, “Yes, I won the bet. You have to do my chores for a month.”

All your friends let out ohs at Imogen explaining your behavior all day. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you do her chores. You just have to continue saying I love you to me,” Liam reassured you.

“Deal,” you smiled before pulling Liam into a kiss.

[captainreecejames]

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill. 

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up. 

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He  opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating. 

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him. 

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque. 

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

[yoonivy]

my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 7.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.

When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.

And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.

warnings. angst

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----

“Welcome back… Lady Mormont.”

Time has frozen.

At least that is what it feels like as soon as you laid your eyes on Aemond.

Your mouth parts after a dry swallow, as if parched for so long and his visage is the water that will sustain you. All you could do is stare upon him and drink in your fill.

You have thought about this moment happening for so long. Of what you will do when you see him again. Yet none of your previous fantasies seem appropriate anymore — not with his arm wrapped around your dearest friend’s waist and your husband so close by your side. 

So you just stare, open faced and vulnerable. 

The look on your face has Aemond narrowing his gaze. Quizzical or suspicious, you cannot tell. 

(Shouldn’t you be able to tell? You used to read him like an open book.) 

But you can only guess that he is as astonished as you are by this surprising reunion. 

“Actually, your Grace,” Jeremy pipes up.  “My wife goes by Lady Strong now.”

Aemond hums noncommittally and does not even spare Jeremy a glance, keeping his gaze and attention solely on you. It is as if he did not even hear him, reminding you of the time Aemond rudely interrupted your dance with Jeremy all those years ago. 

Perhaps your husband remembers it as well. He goes rigid beside you. 

So you slip your hand into his, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. Jeremy returns it, his finger flexing against yours before he squeezes your hand tightly. 

The prince does not miss even a millisecond of this exchange, and when you turn back to face him, you are met with the most unenthused scowl. 

There was a time when you could have just pinched it off his face with a laugh. Where did that time go? How did it end up like this?

It makes your stomach turn how strange this feels. It hurts so much…  but all you could do is grin and bear it. 

You pull your hand away from Jeremy to curtsy low towards Aemond, finally remembering that you had not even formally acknowledged him yet. 

“Prince Aemond, it’s wonderful to see you again,” you say with your head dipped low, eyes on the ground. 

“Is it, really?” You hear him question. “I apologize if I find that hard to believe, Lady Strong. You didn’t even invite me to your wedding! Did my invitation get lost somewhere on the way to me?”

Though it may sound lighthearted, you hear the subtle accusation in it. It has you flicking your gaze up at him, meeting his eye. Despite his smirk, you can clearly see the hurt in him. Hopefully he can see the pain you have been carrying as well. 

“How do you two know each other?” Alys questions, her confused gaze darting between you and Aemond. 

Your mouth parts, about to answer… But the words would not come out, dying at the tip of your tongue.

What can you even say? What are you and Aemond now?

“It is the duty of the Prince Regent to know the people that lord over our glorious lands,” Aemond supplies. “So of course I know about the Mormonts of Bear Island. I had visited a couple times as a child and got acquainted with the Mormonts,” he turns to you with a tight smile, hands clasped together behind his back as he dips his body your way, “isn’t that right… Lady Strong?”

It is not entirely wrong, but it did not seem right either. The nonchalant and broad way he explained your relationship felt so impersonal that you cannot help but feel a strong pang of sadness deep in your heart. 

“Right,” you answer hoarsely, taking a swallow since your throat felt tight and blinking rapidly since your eyes are threatening to water. The latter does not work, but you are blessed by a distraction by the name of Talia. The young Lady Strong runs to you and you bend to your knees to catch her, hugging her closely and your tears disappearing into her curls.  

It did not take you long to realize that the little girl is crying too. 

“Oh, angel…” you coo sympathetically, pulling away to wipe the tears on her cheeks with the pad of your thumb on both sides of her face. Your face falls as you take in her bloodshot eyes and look of absolute distraught — it’s clear that her tears are beyond just seeing you and Jeremy again. It is something else. 

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond watches with a knot in his stomach, looking between you and the little girl and wondering if she’s… he looks towards Jeremy, then back at the little girl. 

They have many similarities — chestnut brown curls and honey brown eyes. Definitely favouring the Strong features and yet none of the Mormonts. 

There is a bitter taste in Aemond’s mouth, his mouth pulling back in a scowl. 

In another world, a better world, she would have had pearlescent silver hair and your eyes. 

The Prince Regent shakes away the thought just as Jeremy picks up the little girl, the both of you coddling her closely, asking her what is wrong. 

The girl is in shambles, unable to explain as she stutters and hiccups through her tears.

“What about ‘We have a lot to discuss’ did you lot not understand?” Comes a booming voice. 

Everyone turns to the clearly vexed Ser Simon, who had just noticed that no one had been following him. 

“Apologies, grandfather,” your husband says, passing the little girl over to you. 

Ser Simon’s hard stare did not move away from you, disapproving as always. What have you done now, you wonder. “And Talia. I told you to stop with the tears. Crying to your aunt and uncle will not bring your father and mother back. You have to grow up now.”

A soft gasp startles out of you at the sudden devastating news, looking over to find your husband’s heartbreaking expression. His mouth opens, as if he was about to ask his grandfather to repeat what he had just said, like he could not believe what he had just heard, but no words came out. 

Your gaze sharpens into a heated glare at the man who spoke the deplorable words, holding the little girl more closely as she sobs against your chest, though she tries to keep it quiet this time. 

An agonizing pain throbs your heart, for your niece and your husband. 

You step closer towards Jeremy, hoping your presence is comforting enough. You can’t imagine how he is feeling. If you lost any of your siblings…

You could not even think of that right now.

Behind you, Aemond lets out a breath of relief that he had not known he had been holding. 

---

You are unsure if it is because you are a woman or because the castellan of Harrenhal does not care much for you, but you were not allowed to take part in the discussion. Frustratingly, you think it might be because of both reasons. 

The sun is already starting to set and yet your husband still has not returned to your chamber. He has already been gone for a few hours and it has you anxiously pacing around the room. 

Harrenhal had been attacked — that you can conclude by the injured and the repairs being done around the castle. But what of the riverlands? Or Hornhill? If a clash had broken out in Harrenhal, surely those areas would not have been left untouched. 

Worrying your lips, you stare out the window, wishing you had the gift of sight to see miles and miles beyond. 

Remembering Forrest’s letter to Braeden, a sinking feeling of dread settles in your stomach

Are your siblings alright? The invisible strings that ties you all together seem to be pulled taut and loose at the same time. But you are sure it is just in your head. As much as you try to put on a smile and stay optimistic, you are always just worried now, always stuck on the worst case scenarios. 

The door of the room opens just before you go mad with any more dreadful thoughts. 

Turning away from your spot by the window, you watch as Jeremy steps in, weary eyed and appearing more exhausted than the last time you saw him. You meet him halfway across the room, your steps hurried while his are slow. When close enough, you reach for his arms as his own find their place on your waist. 

Before you could even get a word out, Jeremy's face crumbles, it is as if he had been holding back this whole time he had been gone. He finds home with you, his face hidden in the crook of your shoulder, breaks down while he tells you through aching sobs about the fate of his brother, his friends, and many other people he had grown up with due the attack of the Blacks. 

As you hold him tightly, you tell yourself that in due time, Jeremy will tell you everything you need to know. But for now, you lead him to your marital bed and let him seek solace in your comforting embrace.

---

A couple days pass and you were correct, Jeremy tells you all that he knows once he is ready. He informs you that the Greens are brokering a peace deal with the Riverland houses, and that he is sure that the Tully’s will accept it. Though about the Reach – and Horn Hill, specifically – he had no news. Nothing at all. You don’t know whether that should relieve you or worry you more. 

Your husband has no reason to lie to you. 

So could Forrest’s intel be wrong? 

It does not make sense seeing as your older brother is part of the Queensguards, but you desperately hope that is the truth. 

You decide to take your mind off it for now before you go mad. 

There are still repairs to be done. Injured people to nurture back to health. And the children — oh you know they would love for a distraction and normalcy for this confusing yet terrifying time, and resuming your art lessons would surely bring that. 

You’ve neglected your self appointed duties since your return to Harrenhal, only leaving your bedchamber a few hours a day before you find yourself running back to the safety of it. 

It must be exhaustion from the long travel. 

It must be lightheadedness from the remembrance of death all around you. 

It must be the feeling of vivid violet like goosebumps on your skin, the wisp of blanche from the corners of your vision —

But you do not want to hide away anymore. So you start your day at the medical bay, offering your aid wherever the maesters see fit. 

You make makeshift gauze out of old yet newly washed clothing. You help dress wounds. You feed those who are not able to by themselves. And when one of the maesters needed more dreamwine, you offered to be the one to get more. 

That is how you find yourself standing like a statue right at the open apothecary door.

It had not been your intention. But you realize as soon as you step into the apothecary and freeze suddenly in place when you see your dear friend, that you had been avoiding her. 

You have seen Alys around. Out the window of your bedchamber as she walks across the courtyard, the prince regent by her side. In the dining hall, the two of them sharing a meal. In the common room, absorbed in reading separately while sitting so intimately side by side that Alys was practically on his lap. Wherever Alys is, Aemond is surely close by.

Perhaps that is the reason why you had not dared to approach her.  

But right now Alys is surprisingly alone and none the wiser about your guilty stagnant hovering by the doorway. The raven haired beauty is too preoccupied with her work. 

Your eyes water at the sight of her, mouth pulling down into a wavering pout. You miss her so, so much. Yet you’ve been hiding from her because of what? A long lost love who you have not seen in years ?

You’ve moved on. You really have… With Jeremy.

It is clear that Aemond has moved on as well — and with your best friend. You should be happy for them.

No. You are happy for them.

… Aren’t you?

You do not have the time to reflect on your conflicting feelings — not when you hear your name being called, and when you look up, you meet Alys fox-like gaze. There is an uncharacteristic small yet kind smile on her lips, one she reserves just for you. “… what are you doing standing over there?”

You clear your throat and put on a smile, finally taking a step into the room. “I apologize. I did not want to bother you.”

Alys shakes her head. 

“You are never a bother, my lady… Actually, I was going to seek you out after I let this batch of sweetsleep simmer,” she says as you make your way beside her. 

Close now but not too close, you watch her stir the pot in front of her one last time before putting a lid on it. She turns to you then, “I finished the medicine for your father last night and sent it out early this morning.” 

She leans in closer, and you catch the gleam of mischievousness in her eyes as she whispers, “threatened the courier to make haste as well, so hopefully it will get to your father sooner rather than later.”

With those words, every disconcerting thought you were having fades away, replaced once again with only appreciation and admiration for Alys.

An emotional feeling of gratitude overtakes you as you take a hold of her hands. “Thank you, Alys. I don't even know what I would do without you. I will forever be in your debt.”

Alys shakes her head with a soft smile, reaching up to gently tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear before she cups your face. “I want nothing from you except to know that your mind is at ease.”

You almost burst into tears. Instead, you tackle her into a tight hug.

“I really wanted to lessen your burdens,” Alys says, her hand stroking in a comforting manner against your back. “Especially after what happened here and at Hornhill.”

Her words give you a pause. You rear back slowly, meeting her eyes, your face pinched in confusion. “.... What… What happened at Hornhill?”

Now it is Alys’ turn to look bewildered. “Jeremy had not told you?”

Panic starts to set in you, heartbeat racing and breathing near hyperventilating. 

Told you what? Was there something to tell ?

“My Alys. There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” you hear distantly. It barely registers, not with the ringing in your ears. 

Alys ignores the newcomer as well and murmurs your name, full of worry. 

You step away from her, clearly already distracted with the thoughts in your head when you tell her, “I should go… have a word with Jeremy.”

“Yes. Of course. I’ll see you soon?”

You squeeze her hand once more, offering a smile and a nod before you turn away to leave the room.

As you pass by Aemond, you bow towards him though you quickly keep on walking. 

You don’t see how his hand reaches out in an attempt to stop you. Though before his fingertips could touch you, he drops his hand lamely by his side. 

The Prince Regent keeps his eye on you until he can not see you any longer. The ache in his chest grows. 

Another opportunity to be in your presence — gone , just like that. 

Disappointment does not even begin to cover it. 

---

You find Jeremy at the training yard.

Sometimes you forget how much the name Strong fits with your husband, when all he ever is sweet and soft-spoken with you.  

But as you watch him now, it is the one word you can think of to describe him. Strong , a solid and powerful force to be reckoned with. 

A protector. 

Is that why he had refrained from telling you about Hornhill? To protect you?

Jeremy barely budges when the man he is dueling with elbows him in the stomach, the abs on his stomach clenching as it absorbs the blow. He then easily turns things around in his favor, shoving the man to ground with a grunt and stabbing his sword right into the dirt beside the man’s head, thus ending the fight. 

A second later, the seriousness of the duel dissipates when they both laugh at the same time, Jeremy offering a hand to help the man up. 

Your hands come together to applaud for your husband, and his attention turns towards where you stand behind the fence. Meeting your gaze, his mouth widens into the most handsome smile. 

He jogs towards you, and you can not help but lose your breath at the sight of him. The way his bare upper body glistens with sweat and how his muscles are taut from the practice…

Swiftly, you shake the thoughts away that the heat between your legs try to distract you with. You remind yourself that you are here for an explanation and not anything else.

“Hey,” Jeremy greets, leaning across the fence that divides the two of you to kiss your cheek. “You’re up and about early this morning.”

“Thought I’d better start doing my part to help out,” you say with a shrug. 

He hums, reaching out to lay his hand on your shoulder, his thumb grazing along your clavicle. 

Ever since arriving back, Jeremy has been more physically affectionate. Always finding reasons to touch you, or sometimes, for no reason at all. You have a feeling you know what caused the sudden change. 

In truth, you had been enjoying the newfound possessiveness. 

Except right now. You can’t stomach his touch at the moment knowing he had been lying to you.

So you shrug his hand away, causing Jeremy to tilt his head and narrow his eyes in concern.

“Are you done with training?” You question, before he could get a word out. 

He glances behind him, and even though he does not seem to be — the others still clashing with one another — he turns back to you and says, “I could be.”

Nodding, you implore, “Please. We need to talk.”

With that, he jumps over the fence with practiced ease, and you pull him to a quiet corner of the courtyard. 

Alone and with no one around to eavesdrop, you get straight to the point. 

“I heard about Hornhill.”

The way Jeremy’s face falls in shock and the hard swallow he takes tells you everything you needed to know. But you press anyway, “Did you know?”

A long moment of silence passes before he nods sheepishly. 

Your heart wrenches. “Jeremy… why ?”

At the sound of your voice breaking, his does too when he starts to speak, “I… I did not want to worry you, my love. Believe me, if I knew any news about Jorah and Renee — good or bad — I would have told you right away. But, as of right now, I have nothing, just as I told you before,” he takes a hold of your hands, eyes pleading for you to understand why he had told the little white lie, pleading for you to forgive him. “The Tarly’s have been sending letters to families of fallen soldiers and villagers, and if Jorah was… gone , we would have gotten word of it by now.”

Red rims around his regretful gaze, and you know all too well the grief that had caused it. 

It had laid with you in bed every night since arriving at Harrenhal. It had your husband screaming in his sleep, dreaming of nothing but blood on the lifeless bodies of the people he loved. 

“Please, please, forgive me,” your husband begs, his honey brown eyes filled with tears. “I just did not want you to feel the way that I did — like I still do.”

Your lips thin, contemplating his words. Then you lace your hand with his. 

“Then tell me everything you know, my heart. And don’t spare any details this time.”

It’s not full forgiveness, but it’s a start. 

---

Aemond finds you in the kitchen, led there by the sound of your melodic and lively laughter drifting through the cold and bleak halls. 

He tried so hard not to seek you out. But his heart would always somehow lead him to where you are. 

It’s a conflict in his head. Yes, he still loathes you. Of course, he is still bitter. And there is no doubt that he still resents every inch of you. 

But for the past few weeks, every single day since the two of you find yourselves dwelling in the same place, Aemond’s subconscious would somehow find the time to search for you in the largest castle in all of Westeros and its hundreds of rooms.

The arduous task that he gives himself never deters him, for just one look at you — even for a passing second — is enough.

( You’re lying , the voice in his head mockingly laughs. You could never hate her and it is never enough. )

He stomps down the voice.  

So he never dared to come too close. Always just a little out of your sight. Drinking you in from afar. 

It's just you today, he notes as he watches in the shadows by the open doorway of the kitchen. No husband of yours following after you like a dog. 

There are a group of children surrounding you though, all in awe as you slice up the pie you had made with their assistance. 

The scent of the freshly baked pastry flows to him, causing a wave of nostalgia that pangs his heart. 

Aemond remembers the many times you and him had also helped your mother and Dorothea with making the Mormont’s special apple pie. 

He remembers peeling and slicing up the apples with you, offering up the slice most perfectly cut for you to pop in your mouth. Remembers accidentally dropping too much cinnamon into a small bowl, causing it to dust up into the air and into your noses, stinging your eyes as you sneeze and laugh and cough and whine out his name. Remembers sitting shoulder to shoulder, taking that first bite of the warm and delicious tart apple filling at the same time with a simultaneous hum of content, your elbow nudging him as your brows lift and your lips grinning as if to say we made that.

Smiling unbeknownst to himself, Aemond does not realize he got lost in the memories until the children are rushing past him. They are too engrossed and excitedly chattering amongst themselves that they do not see him standing there.

But someone does notice him.

“Prince Aemond?”

Your honeyed, sweet voice. His name. 

He has to take a sharp intake of air, his heart stuttering underneath its hollowed cage.

Although he is the one who sought you out and this is what he wanted, to be alone with you — it is too much.

(It is never enough.)

Plastering on a tight smile, Aemond turns towards you. 

The way he sets his eye on you has you feeling nervous. It is piercing. 

“I apologize for intruding, my Lady,” he drawls. “I was led here by the scent of the famous Mormont apple pie.”

But his gaze does not linger away from you for even a second.

“You are not intruding, your Grace…” you say, timidly twisting your fingers together. You glance back at the wooden counter behind where the pie rested, “Would you like a slice…?” Then you wince, remembering — ”Actually, there’s only one left and I’m afraid I already took a bite of it. But if that troubles you, I can make another—”

“I don’t mind sharing. We’ve done it before,” he interrupts you. A smirk starts to pull his lips.  “…I’ve devoured yours, remember?”

A shuddering breath escapes you, your face blazing with heat. 

You don’t believe he is talking about pies anymore. 

Turning away swiftly after clearing your throat, you don’t dignify the comment with an answer. It was highly inappropriate. But that doesn’t stop your chest from tightening at the image he put in your head. 

As you fuss around to plate up the last slice of pie, you feel his gaze following you. Leering so intensely that the crawl of it over your skin causes you goosebumps.

What was the word he used again? Devoured? 

Yes, it feels like he is devouring you whole . 

You are so in your head and nonplussed about your every move that you don’t even realize he was standing behind you — until you feel the weight of his touch on your lower back. 

They say that lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but Aemond’s touch is as electric and all too familiar. 

It causes a shiver to run down your spine, and you quickly flinch away from him as if struck. 

You fix an affronted glare his way, all it does is spread that infuriating smirk on his lips once again. 

If you didn’t know any better, he seems to be enjoying the fact that he is making you both nervous and agitated. 

“Shall we see if this compares to your mother’s and Dorothea’s?” He questions, tone cheeky, as he grabs a fork and cuts off a small piece.

“The children loved it.”

“They’re children ,” he remarks flippantly. The glare would have been the permanent fixture on your face if he had not said your name. But he did, and so your expression slacks, mouth gaping at the sound of your name on his tongue. It has been so long since you’ve heard his tongue wrapped around the syllables — he has always made your name sound like it is the prettiest song.

You are not sure if he had meant the familiarity or if it just slipped through accidentally. But he keeps prattling on, “They’ll eat anything tooth-achingly sweet and claim it is the Gods’ gift to mankind.”

“Wait a second…” Laughter fills the room, and you place a hand over your mouth to try to muffle it. “I think I recall this one dragon prince who had that revelation many, many times… He never learned though, not even when he would toss and turn all night because his tummy hurts and I had to keep him company, reading his favorite stories until he fell asleep.”

An annoyed huff through his nose is the only acknowledgment you get. It has you giggling until he brings the fork up into his mouth.

At the first bite, Aemond chews slowly, his expression giving away nothing. 

Anxiously waiting for the verdict, you begin to bite down at the corner of your lip.

You are not like your mother or your sister. Cooking and baking does not come second nature to you. Even boiled eggs are not safe in your care if you are not careful. 

On your visit to Bear Island, you would be by your mother’s side every time she was in the kitchen, making sure you follow the family recipes exactly how she does them. 

In all honesty, you have been scared that you will never measure up. Terrified that something will happen and you will never taste anything like what your mother makes ever again. 

But then Aemond lets out a steady hum, his eye closing as his head tilts up to the ceiling — captivating your attention so easily. His jaw is working like he is savoring it. And when he swallows, his neck — his beautiful neck — bobs elegantly. 

Ethereal. 

Aemond breathes in deeply, then opens his eye — lashes fluttering prettily — and sets it on you.

“It’s good,” he compliments, in a tone so soft you almost thought you had dreamt it. 

“It tastes exactly how I remember it.”

He smiles then, sweet, unlike the arrogant or cruel smirks that only graces his features lately. 

It is the smile of your Aemond. 

Just that one smile was enough to break down the walls that had built itself between you two — at least for you. 

So you gift him one of your own. Wide, and brilliant, and blinding. 

The air in his lungs catches. The beating of his heart stops. 

Who said he needed his sight anymore? As if you are the sun, he is willing to stare upon you until he loses function of his remaining eye. 

The intruding thought does not last long. 

Aemond glances away, cursing himself. Cursing you. 

Is that really all it takes for him to forgive everything you had done to him?

A pretty smile, and nothing else?

Irritated at himself, he pushes the plate a little too forcefully towards you. 

“Oh.” You frown. “You don’t want any more?”

One look of your little pout has Aemond squeezing his hand into a tight fist. 

Weak. He is so weak. 

Unflexing his hand after he takes a moment to calm down, he sighs. “We’re sharing, remember?”

Tentatively, you break off a tiny piece to put in your mouth before nudging the plate back in his direction. 

Aemond rolls his eye, but does the same, only taking a little piece and then offering it back to you. 

This goes on for a while. The room is quiet save for the scraping of the fork on the plate. 

It is strange being here with Aemond like this. You almost think you might be dreaming. But he is real — your many secretive glances at him from the corners of your eyes made sure of it. 

The silence is killing you. Many unsaid things linger in the air, but you don’t know where to start. There was a time when you talked to him about anything and everything, now you are rendered mute in case of saying anything wrong or idiotic. 

Does he even want you to speak to him?

All the letters you have sent went unanswered, perhaps he wants it to stay that way. 

“I heard you went back home for a little while.”

In breaking the silence, Aemond also tears down your overthinking. 

There is a sudden lightness in your chest when you take in that he wants to talk to you. 

As you were about to answer, you remember you are still chewing, so your hand comes up to cover your mouth as you nod to answer him instead. 

Glancing down, Aemond huffs out a soft chuckle because of the look on your face. 

Lovely , might have been a passing thought, but he is trying to drown out the voice in his head at the moment. 

“How was that…?” He questions carefully. “How’s your family?”

“It was…” It takes you a moment to find the words on how you felt being back home — so many emotions overwhelmed you every single day you were on the island. With a faint smile, you finally settled on, “… something I really needed.”

You tell Aemond about your short time back on Bear Island. About your niece and nephew, about Braeden fully taking over as the Head of House Mormont, and so much more. He stands there and listens, hanging onto your every word. 

“I finally had the chance to tell my mother this… thing that I was too afraid to tell her through letters.”

It flashes in your mind — your palms pressed on your stomach, your tears of distress, your mother holding onto you while she murmured it’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t you ever think that, my darling. 

You swallow the lump in your throat caused by the memory. 

“And seeing my father again…”

Maybe for the last time.

This time, the passing thought makes a few tears fall. 

Quickly, you wipe them away. “I apologize… I had not meant to dump this all on you.”

The awkward chuckle you let out dies in your throat when you feel Aemond step closer towards you. You glance wide eyed up at him through wet lashes just as his knuckles graze gently over your cheek. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, catching the last of your tears. His touch lingers on your skin for a bit longer before he drops his hand — but his half-lidded gaze is still set on you. 

You tuck your hair behind your ear nervously. 

“And what about you, your Grace?”

“You’ve probably heard most of it.”

“Perhaps,” you answer. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

Aemond lets out a low hum. “Then where shall I begin? With my brother, the supposed almighty and chosen king, and yet he’s injured beyond repair. Or my sister? There’s not much to say. She pretty much lost her mind further after losing her son. And I can’t forget about my mother…”

The look on your face is far too pathetic, Aemond thinks in disgust. So overtly pitying it makes his skin crawl. It makes him turn away from you, shamefaced. 

Don’t look to me like that — you have no idea what I’ve done to you and your family.

“I guess we’ve both missed a lot,” he comments with a sardonic laugh. “I suppose that is what happens when people drift apart.”

“I guess so…” you reply, frowning. 

But you don’t want it to stay that way. Your heart hurts thinking about it. 

“Aemond?” He looks towards you, catching your watery gaze again. “Can we…” Your hand grips on the edge of the wooden table, fingers tapping anxiously. “Can we start over?”

The request takes Aemond aback, gaze narrowing and head tilting in disbelief. 

Start over?

Just like that?

Like the past years did not matter? Like all his sleepless nights and anguish over you was for nothing?

Aemond nearly scoffs out loud — but then he really thinks it over.

Starting over and all that it entails… Being able to be by your side, to talk to you, to make you laugh once again… Which is everything he is secretly yearning for. As much as he loathes to admit it, it is true. 

The past few weeks have been sweet torture for the Prince Regent. You were all his rotten mind could think about, distracting every other thought in his head because of the fact you are finally so close. 

But to truly start over, everything should be laid out on the table, correct?

The damning confession is there, on the tip of his tongue…

Aemond bites back the words in cowardice, too afraid to face your ire. You despising him is the last thing he wants. Especially now that you are actually speaking to him, looking upon him with those eyes of yours he used to worship. 

So instead, he sucks in a breath and nods. 

“Alright… Let us start over.”

And when your pretty lips break into the sweetest smile he has ever seen, Aemond decides that although he made the wrong choice, it is one he does not regret making.

Aemond just wants to bask in your sun for a little bit longer before the inevitable happens — the day you find out the truth and hate him with all your guts until his final breath. 

Is that truly so wrong of him?

[themultifanshipper]

Charles was shocked into silence. How could he not have noticed? He had known you for years and yet, he had never been so turned on in his life, just from hearing you speak.

Warnings: gn!reader, french!reader, cum play? GRATUITOUS amounts of french! Like half the dialogue is in french (with translation). This is entirely self-indulgent! Charles is really stupid in this I’m sorry but it’s for the plot, also he started out dominant then I decided halfway through he should be submissive, then switched back again. Barely proofread, it is 4:30am as I am writing this, sue me. There is disgusting stuff involving cum, and I’m kinda considering this crack because I can’t take french seriously.

Bon appétit, this is a wild ride my friends.

You had been working in formula 1 for most of your adult life, going from media teams to personal assistant, to lots of other jobs that finally led you to your dream job: race engineer.

Well, your dream job was really being a team boss, but baby steps, yeah?

Anyway, you had been promoted to race engineer to the one and only Charles Leclerc following the whole Xavi thing. But before that he’d known you as his assistant for a bit when his own assistant was on maternity leave, and before that you had been the media trainer for a few teams, including Sauber when he was there. He’d literally known you since his debut, and the two of you had grown very close over the years, and saw each other every week. So the fact that he could have missed something like this was embarrassing.

You were at the end of a race, going on about the tyres overheating to Charles over the radio when the car in front of him locked up and slid, forcing him to swerve and hit the wall with a sickening crunch.

You gasped as you saw the car make contact. “Oh Putain, ça va Charles ?” (Oh fuck, you ok Charles?) You spoke into your headset but there was no answer, and Charles didn’t seem to be moving so you tried again “Charles, tu m’entends? Est-ce que ça va?!” (Charles can you hear me? Are you ok?)

He finally replied in a shaky voice, and you were finally able to breathe and call the staff that would go get Charles and his car off the track.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles was having a mental crisis. You spoke French?

Since fucking when?

His ears were ringing as he tried to think back your years friendship for any signs. He came up empty. He was positive he’d never heard you speak French before. And he was positive he should be hard, climbing out of his car after a crash.

When he got back to the garage, you were waiting for him, ready to ask him how he was but before you could say anything he grabbed your arm and dragged you into the nearest room slash maintenance cupboard he could find.

“What the hell are you doing Charles?”

He locked the door and when he turned back around his eyes were dark and stormy “Since when do you speak french?” he asked.

You just blinked at him.

“What?”

He backed you up against the wall, hands either side of your waist.

“Since when” he spoke patronizingly slowly “Do. You. Speak. French.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion.

“Charles, I am French. I have a French name. I was born and raised in France! What the fuck do you mean ‘since when do I speak french’???!”

His eyes widened as he realized how oblivious he’d been.

“My dad is friends with Pierre’s parents! I started my career at Renault! I brought you wine from my family’s vineyard! Charles how-  how could you not have known?” You laughed at him as he just stood there flabbergasted at his own stupidity.

“Sérieusement? Comment?” (seriously, how?)

His brain seemed to reboot and he put his arms around you “Je suis désolé, je suis vraiment débile” (I’m sorry, I’m so stupid) he giggled into your hair.

The proximity was odd but not unwelcome, as you put your arms around him and laughed with him, inhaling his pleasant scent.

“Tu as mis du parfum? Tu sens bon. ” (Have you got cologne on? You smell good)

He groaned. “Keep talking, please” and he squeezed you tighter against him.

You laughed. “Tu sais bien que je parle toujours en français avec Pierre et Este ?” (You know I always speak french with Pierre and Este, right?)

He whimpered into your neck and that’s when you felt it.

You froze in his arms “Charles are you getting hard?”

He put his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes, both of you going cross-eyed. “I’m sorry you just sound so sexy in french” he sniffled.

This was definitely something you could get behind.

“Ouais? Tu veux que je te parle en français pendant les courses alors? (Yeah, you want me to speak to you in french during the races?)

He chewed on his lip and nodded as your hand made its way to the front of his suit to cup him over the fabric.

“T’es sûr? On voudrait pas que tu salisse la voiture, tu devras expliquer aux ingénieurs pourquoi le siège est trempé” (you sure ? We wouldn’t want you to make a mess, you’d have to explain to the engineers why the seat is wet)

He whined and his knees almost buckled, so you turned him around against the wall and unzipped his suit, dragging it down to pool around his ankles, then making quick work of the second layer, leaving him in his very damp underwear. You pulled that down as well as you got a hand around his cock and started a slow pace, teasing the tip with your thumb every now and then. He bucked his hips and whined at the dry friction.

“What’s the matter? Un peu sec?” (a bit dry?) You said teasingly.

“Laisse moi t’aider avec ça” (let me help you with that)

You got down on your knees and his eyelids fluttered as you got your lips around his tip. When you took half of him in your mouth and reached a hand up to cup his balls at the same time, he moaned and thumped his head back onto the wall.

You pulled off “Garde les yeux sur moi, Charles” (keep your eyes on me, Charles)

He did so , with much difficulty, but his eyes snapped to yours and you continued, taking him all the way to the base and massaging his balls gently. His hips bucked up a bit making you gag slightly.

“désolé, je vais pas durer longtemps” (sorry, I’m not gonna last long)

So you picked up the pace and doubled down on your efforts, as his hands flew to your hair.

It took about a minute and a half for him to come, groaning your name while he filled your mouth. He felt like his soul had been sucked out through his dick. You didn’t swallow it all though, wanting to share the load, as it were.

You got up and pulled him in for a kiss, which he gladly accepted, and it was the most disgusting, satisfying kiss you’d ever had, all teeth and spit and cum, some of it dribbling down your necks and chests.

You stayed like that for a while, basking in each other’s embrace (and each other’s mouths) before you suddenly remembered where you were.

“Charles! Don’t you have a press conference to go to?!”

“Je m’en fous, je reste là” (I don’t care, I’m staying here)

He lifted you up and carried you to the other side of the room where there was a conveniently empty shelf, where he set you down before tugging your pants down and spreading your legs to slot himself between them. He was already half hard again as he pumped himself with one hand and used the other to swipe up the cum on his and your chests, then brought his fingers to your entrance, rubbing gently before sliding a finger inside you. It didn’t take much for him to prep you and he used the excess leftover cum to lube himself up and slide into you. You keened as he pressed up into your most sensitive spots. But he just stayed there, grinding slowly into you, driving you mad.

“Please, Charles!” You begged, pronouncing his name the English way.

He cocked his head and grinned at you, and you sighed in desperation.

“S’il te plait… Charles”

His jaw went slack as he used all the energy he had left to pound into you, right in that special spot that made you see stars, over and over until you were a whining mess underneath him.

You came with a shout, back arching off the shelf and he held on to you as he followed soon after.

Charles Leclerc got a fine for not showing up at the post-race conference, or the debrief, or any of his mandatory duties. Fortunately, he had enough money to pay the fine, and take you to dinner that very same night.

If you're still here, you should get a medal. I'm sorry.

[hotpinkstars]

HIIII I JUST READ YOUR BOOTHILL IDEA ABOUT PREGNANCY AND I AM WELL FED 😭 i love how angsty it is. oh boy i'm sure struggles a lot during his s/o's pregnancy. like...it has lots of cry and self-conflict because he may thinking that he isn't helping his s/o. there gonna be small arguments and misunderstandings. it's hard for the both of them and the baby. 🥹

ohhhh yes. yup. decided to take a real angsty route with this one. I added some mentions of his actual backstory here, bc my og one was written before his backstory was released lols

Boothill definitely cries during your whole entire pregnancy. He also has a lot of bad thoughts about himself during it, too. 

At first, he tries to hide it, and either subtly cry, or just simply wait until you’re no longer in the room or the house. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s not happy because of the state he’s in. 

He used to be human, he used to be flesh, and most importantly, he once had a daughter of his own, and that's what crushes him the most. He fears so much that he’s almost going to replace her, even though he knows deep down in his heart that it most definitely wouldn’t be able to happen. 

He also feels so bad about not being able to do normal human things for your during your pregnancy :(((( he knows how much you want to be able to be soft and intimate, to take baths and be able to have a cozy massage and just a cozy person around in general, and he’s the exact opposite of that. He doesn’t even think he deserves the husband title anymore.

He literally once asked you why you’re still with him and not someone else. You explained that you loved him and you wanted to be with him, and even then he never really expressed the way he felt about himself to you but you could sort of see it in his eyes. He didn’t like the way he was and the fact that he can’t be what he refers to as a “proper dad” to his kid. 

He knows it’s hard on you, too, and he also knows that you’re catching onto his harsh thoughts, and you’re catching on fast. It caused an argument a few times, on how you’re hurt that he’s not expressing his emotions, he doesn’t want to, it turns into a “do you not trust me or something?” conflict on your end, and a “I just don’t know what to say without hurting you” conflict on his end. Misunderstanding that likely won’t just dissipate. 

There was one argument that you both had when you were nearing pretty close to your due date, and he decided he was going to walk out midway through and not come back for about a week. For some reason, he chose a petty route, leaving you anxious and super betrayed, considering he refused to answer his phone, too.

The argument was over something that seemed incredibly stupid, if you both must say so yourselves. He was, once again, insecure, and he wouldn’t tell you why. That was what bothered you- did he not trust you enough? Did he seriously not want to be a part of this baby's life? Why else would he just walk out?

To say it made you super anxious, scared, and lonely was an understatement. You were left with the thought that you’d have to give birth alone, and go back to your original game plan that you already mentally set up. You thought he genuinely left you.

That was, until he walked back into the house on a random afternoon that next week. He ran up to you and apologized, allowing you to cry it out in his steel arms. He felt so horrible, and he vowed to you to never, ever do that again.

He tries to start letting you in on his troubles from that point on, but there still seems to him like there's a barrier blocking his words from coming out. Sometimes, he just blames it on his synesthesia beacon, which seems to work for now. 

He also lets you see him cry more often, but that stops when you give birth. He doesn’t need you to be more overwhelmed than you already will end up being.

[lxtstrip]

Homesick | C. Sturniolo

TW: weed/drugs mention

AN: first sturniolo fic — also don’t do drugs, smoke a joint (pack a bowl, rip a bong, eat an edible idc!) where/when legal and enjoy.

WC: 935

Pairing: Chris x Reader

“Stay in Boston.” Chris read with confusion from a crumpled note he found in his newly thrifted hoodie pocket. He didn’t think much of it, just some trash left by an artist in Los Angeles. Whether it was a photographer, videographer, songwriter, or maybe a failed sketch was anyone’s guess.

What he wasn’t aware of was the treacherous journey that hoodie had taken to get to him and its ties to the city he called home. The hoodie had gone through a family vacation, a boy’s high school career, moving into a college dorm, a relationship, many italian ice date nights, and a breakup. The hoodie signified an era of someone’s life; the same tagline as everything else you lay your eyes on at a thrift store.

He thought about everything he had ever known as the items were piling up in his newly found second hand collection. Donating his skates when he was 13, his mother cleaning out the garage of all their holiday things, and even down to his brothers piling clothes on the bed to list for sale online. He didn’t own much, just enough to keep him out of trouble, so the thought of someone having enough to give away was enough to make his head spin.

He kept the paper regardless of whether it was trash or not. Chris adored Boston and only associated positive memories with it. Fenway Park, Gillette Stadium and TD Garden were his go to places to hang with his friends, brothers, or even alone. He remembers frantically Googling ‘free things to do in Boston’ before dates and eventually dipping into his wallet after he couldn’t find anything good with pride. He was someone who would do anything to make anyone happy, whatever the cost, but he couldn’t apply that theory to himself.

When all was done and dusted for the day he decided to shut himself in his room and unwind. He ran his fingers down the spines of the books you gave him, reading the titles to himself, hearing your voice with each syllable. Empty promises of going to visit him came flooding back into his memory as soon as he saw your favorite book; tattered edges, taped spine, and a receipt paper bookmark. He shook himself out of it and went to his desk to pack a bowl.

With a swift flick of the lighter Chris pressed the glass to his lips and inhaled for a moment feeling the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders. He sat in his computer chair and looked around his room for signs of you - something, anything. He repeated the motion a few times and grabbed the torn piece of paper from his thrifting excursion.

“Stay in Boston.” Chris repeated to himself countless times before grabbing his phone. He knew your number by heart and as soon as he hit the call button an all-too-familiar ache came over him. He took another hit and exhaled when he heard your voicemail message play. He never thought he’d be here; alone, in his room, pining after a love lost.”

“Hey, it’s Chris…” he started. “I wish you were here. I’ve said it every day to myself while I’ve been out here. I know neither of us wanted this… I don’t think either of us knew what we wanted. I’ve been getting by on memories of stumbling to diners and stealing the mugs or skipping classes to go hang out at the park…” he took another hit and sighed. “What I’m trying to say is my heart will always have a space for you, my brain has always had one.”

You looked at your phone to see another voicemail from Chris. You shrugged it off thinking it was most likely another message he recorded at a party where he would preface it with whatever drug he was taking at the time; the west coast ruined him. As much as you hated to admit it you kept up with their videos and you locked in on Chris looking more gaunt every time.

You hadn’t answered a call from Chris in months and you never reached back out. You listened to his newest voice message as you recanted the first call since the split. He had just done a few lines of cocaine and he described it as feeling a sense of finally being able to focus to a greater extent. It shook you to your core that a once happy-go-lucky boy turned into… this. You couldn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

Chris often called to describe his high to you; cocaine, ayahuasca, benzos, acid, angel dust, salvia - the list went on. You were still his safe space and since he drew the conclusion you weren’t even listening to them he let his troubles go in the safe space of voicemails and dial tones.

Chris clutched the “Stay in Boston” note and thought about what it meant to the previous owner of the hoodie. Chris also thought about why this would fall into his lap and when it did. He slowly fell back into his nightly routine while he continued to contemplate that random piece of paper.

After a night of continuing keeping up his high, losing games, and melting his brain over three words Chris decided to head to bed. The second he was in bed it’s as if on cue he saw your name flash across his screen. It knocked his next breath out of him as he answered with a simple “Hello?”

“Chris…” you said followed by a shaky exhalation. “Please stay in Boston.”

[carmenberzattosgf]

my hand is good! I have two scars now under my middle finger on my palm but all is well!

I'm also here to ask about birthday treatment from carmy? I dontnthink he does a lot for his birthday and I personally don't do a lot so I think its either a sup casual affair or he's celebrating the fuck out of it because he's like that's my s/o and I love them and this is the day they started existing and I love that.

it is simply my birthday and i want to be spending it with fiction people but alas!

-🌂

OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I hope you have a wonderful day my dear friend <3

To answer your question though, Carmy is 100% celebrating the fuck out of you. He’s going to wake you up with breakfast in bed with your favorite breakfast foods. He’ll even buy some silly little balloons to have in the kitchen and the living room. They’re not even displayed all cute they’re just, floating on the ceiling, but he made the effort!

The whole day is all about you. If you want your nails done? Okay, sold, he’s paying for them. Hair done? Yep, he’s tagging along and covering the bill. He’s going to watch all your favorite movies and shows with you cuddled up on the couch.

If you want to have a proper birthday dinner, he’s going to make a phone call and get a table for you and all of your friends ( and him of course) at the nicest restaurant in Chicago. Carmy’s also going to make sure they do a dessert with the candles in it as well.

Although, if you don’t want a proper birthday dinner, he cooks one for you at home, anyway. Carmy’s already come up with the perfect birthday dinner menu. Literally, he’s thought of an appetizer, main course, and he’s made your favorite flavor of birthday cake. Oh, and he sings you happy birthday while you blow out your candles. To be completely honest, he films you blowing out your candles just because he wants to keep the moment forever.

Now to talk about gifts, he probably asked Sugar or Syd for help a couple of days before your birthday. While Carmy is talented in so many things, gift selecting is not one of them. He’d much rather prefer to go ahead and buy you the things you’ve mentioned wanting. There’s so much going on in that head of his, he doesn’t want to forget about things you’ve said.

I like to think that after talking with Syd and Sugar, he decides to buy you a gold necklace with his initial on it. It’s not huge or flashy. The necklace is a simple gold chain with a small round pendant attached to it. He opts to have a “C” engraved on the pendant in a dainty, cursive font.

The gift is perfect. You can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes as you look over the pendant in the velvet box. Your eyes widen when you see the 18k gold certification in the box. “Carmen—this is so gorgeous—you really didn’t have to splurge like this. I would have been happy with nothing.” At this point the tears freely flow from your eyes as you look at Carmy, who’s just smiling happily.

“It’s your birthday, baby. I love you.” There’s a break in Carmy’s sentence as he cups your face, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “You’re worth every single penny and more,” he says before leaning in to give you a small kiss.

“I love you so much, Carm. Wanna help me put it on?” He’s eager to see the necklace on you, so he stands up fast to get the box from you. Carmy stands behind you and clasps the necklace at the back of your neck.

“There we go. How’s it look?” Carmen asks before walking back in front of you. Honestly, he has to catch his breath for a second. He didn’t realize how much of an effect seeing you wear his initial would have on him, but he is a man after all.

“It’s so gorgeous, Carm.” Your face beams you stand up to look at the necklace through the mirror on the wall of the living room. “What do you think?”

Carmen walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and setting his head on your shoulder. “I think you’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful, my love.”

[babblingbookends]

Will trade Percy pics for protective big brother Dick with Tim (vs Ra’s, maybe?)

Sorry this took me a couple days to answer! No Ra's, because I sat down to write this and decided I was too tired for anything complicated. Not my finest work, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

---

“Stay back!” Dick snapped, electricity arcing across his escrimas.

In front of him, a mob of restless drunks, egged on by goons. Behind him, Tim, curled up on the floor, whimpering in pain.

“You alright back there, Robin?” Dick asked, projecting as much confidence and bravado into his voice as he could.

“I’ll live,” came Tim’s voice, shaky and pained but with that cocky confidence that came with being Batman’s partner. It was enough for Dick; he turned his focus to the crowd.

“Here’s how things are going to go. You’re either going to turn around and leave, or I’m going to make you leave. And,” he sparked the escrimas again, “it’s going to hurt.”

There was a moment of uncertainty; he could feel the energy of the crowd building to a tipping point. The only question was which way it would tip. He held his breath, waiting.

He thought maybe they would leave, right up until someone in the back yelled, “There’s more of us than there are of him!” and like that, the peace was broken, and the crowd stumbled forward.

From there, it was on. Whirling, kicking, and dodging, he did his best to keep a half-circle of space between the crowd and Tim.

Three minutes in and he panted out, “Robin, please tell me B is on his way?”

There was a moan that might have been agreement, or might have been wishful thinking. He ducked a wild swing, cracked a man in the back of the head, tripped another goon into two more, sending all three sprawling. “That’s fine, I’m sure I can handle these guys. I don’t have a broken rib from getting hit by a car or anything.”

Tim grunted out something that sounded like “doing great,” and Dick kept getting glimpses of him in his periphery pushing himself into a more upright position from his spot against the wall. Another three minutes and he had maybe half the crowd knocked down; another three and half of that half looked like they were determined enough to get back up.

“N’wng,” he heard behind him. “Duck.”

Dick didn’t hesitate. He hit the ground, twisting and rolling backwards to end, crouched, in front of Tim. Over his head, a flash of light that made him instinctively squeeze his eyelids shut.

Bang! The flare sent several people stumbling, and Dick lunged forward, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to fight his way through some of the larger and more sober goons, the ones shouting and raising enough of a ruckus to get everyone else riled. With them out of the way and a majority of the mob knocked down or out, it was short work for the rest of them. Some just ran, which was fine with Dick.

He crouched by Tim’s side. “Hey champ, how’s it going?”

“Fantastic,” Tim slurred. “Th’s a… a vacation.”

“Okay, bud, let’s get you out of here,” Dick said. Carefully, he pulled Tim into his arms and gathered him up, hoisting him off the ground.

“Th’ bike’s gonna suck”, Tim mumbled against Dick’s chest.

Dick had to agree. His bruised and broken ribs also agreed. Not that they got a say.

He stumbled out into the alleyway behind the building. “Okay, Tim, just gotta make it to where I parked-” A quiet, familiar purr interrupted him, and he grinned. “Nevermind. Looks like we’ll be riding in style.”

At the end of the alleyway, the Batmobile, matte black and more welcome than aloe on a sunburn, rolled to a stop.

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 7/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011

2012 – Jake

              He’s been watching it, staring at it, and he knows Nick is older than him, but he wonders if it changes anything. Well, it definitely changes one thing, and that’s the fact he can say he’s gay and not immediately get dishonorably discharged. He didn’t expect for that to feel like such a weight lifted from him, but it is. However he doesn’t suddenly feel okay with saying or doing anything different. The law was changed quickly and it could change back just as quickly. The one person he can talk about it with is currently incommunicado, and he hates knowing exactly where in the world Nick is, and knowing that Nick has been in hospital for three weeks with a concussion, and is now somewhere doing something. Secret Squirrel. He knows better than to ask.

              Doesn’t mean he likes it.

              Too many weeks pass without hearing from him, and he doesn’t hear from Nick’s friend either, has to trust that he’s still alive and well. And if he isn’t, then his friend will let him know as soon as possible. He tries to ignore the thoughts that something could have happened to both of them. Just like something could happen to him and Javy. He lies in bed and wonders if he needs another backup plan, one that is more foolproof and doesn’t involve anyone that has a high-risk career in the military. He’s been opening and closing Grindr compulsively, has even turned the notifications back on, desperate to know as soon as Nick answers.

>>Do you kind of feel it could be snatched away as quickly as they gave it?

>>What?

>>The DADT repeal.

>>Oh.

>>Shit. Yeah. I kind of forgot about it with the whole hospital visit.

>>Well, don’t think it’ll be going backwards anytime soon. They won’t turn away able bodied people. Finally moving with the times.

>>I’m more curious about the people higher up who have been serving for decades and hiding.

>>Why would they care?

>>Hiding their entire lives? That’s rough.

>>Huh.

>>Yeah. I guess it would be.

>>You served under DADT. Surely you felt that pressure?

>>Yeah. You made it okay though. Made it bearable.

>>I’m glad I could do that for you.

>>So am I.

>>Do you think you’ll ever come out?

>>Like, just be out and gay and in the military?

>>Yeah. Eventually? I’m kind of focused on my career more than anything right now. It’s not like I’m going to run off and find a woman and get two and a half kids any time soon. When I have someone. When we meet. Then I’ll consider it.

>>Yeah. Same.

>>This way of life is hard. Even with the repeal it’s not like everyone’s attitudes are magically fixed. They’ll find something else to pin on people they don’t like, or people they feel don’t fit the type of Navy they envision.

>>Got to play it safe still.

              Jake stares at the words.

              Navy.

              Nick is in the Navy.

              It’s the first time he’s slipped up with some type of fact that significant, one that Jake could actually potentially use to try and find him. Apart from the fact that there are thousands of people in the Navy. Not that he needs to find him, not really. They’re already trying to meet up. It makes him feel even closer to him though, like when Nick had first admitted he was also military and Jake had felt the ties between them tighten a little, shared life experiences; although Nick’s always seemed more at ease with being gay than Jake has ever felt.

>>I refer to you as my boyfriend you know?

>>Only to two people.

>>But still.

>>You sure you don’t want my name?

>>I’m sure.

>>I don’t need to know your name to know how I feel about you.

>>I want you to tell me your name when we meet face to face the first time.

>>Sounds corny, but I just feel like that would be a cool moment to have.

>>Same with our faces.

>>Like a grand unveiling?

>>A bride walking down the aisle?

>>Fuck off. Stop being a dick.

>>I’m never telling you my name now.

>>You can call me Nick forever.

>>Dick even.

>>I’ll keep my face completely covered.

>>Would make sucking my dick kind of awkward.

>>I’d make you wear a blindfold.

>>Tie your hands so you couldn’t take it off.

>>Okay, the idea of that is totally turning me on. We have to try that some time.

>>Sooner rather than later.

>>What’s your schedule like?

>>I have the entire month of July to play with.

>>I can make that work.

>>Okay.

>>Let’s do this.

…           …           …

              “Are you fucking kidding me!”

              “What?” Javy asks.

              “I got new orders. I’m shipping out to Afghanistan in June. They’re cutting this deployment short, giving me my four weeks leave now, and then I’m in Afghanistan for five months. This is bullshit.”

              “Uh. Any particular reason why you’re this angry?”

              “That guy I told you about? Nick?”

              “Yeah, you ‘ve mentioned him once or twice, a day, for the past year…”

              “Fuck off. I have not. Anyway, we were going to meet up last year, in November. But then he got deployed to fucking Afghanistan. So we were like, okay, fine, reschedule, to July. And now I’m being deployed toAfghanistan.”

              “What did you do to piss off the universe?”

              “Ugh. Shut up. It does feel like the world is plotting against us.”

…           …           …

>>Okay. So you’re stateside again in October right?

>>Yeah.

>>Third time lucky?

…           …           …

              It is not third time lucky.

              But neither it is a deployment.

              Sandy hits with the force of a planet scorned and Jake is helpless to do anything but hold on. It’s chaos and he turns up to volunteer, needing to do something to help. All flights are cancelled, so it’s not like he can go anywhere. He’s put to work, and when it becomes apparent he’s trained military he’s put into a more formal role of helping coordinate other volunteers into working parties. Thousands of people need to be evacuated, then a hospital’s backup generator goes and he’s strong and able-bodied, put to work again with emergency services.

              Amongst it all internet service is spotty at best, and he tries to save the power on his phone but it goes dead, unable to be charged with the lack of electricity. He knows it’s only going to be a matter of days before everything returns to a different level of normality but he’s also aware that Nick will be wondering about him. He gets to charge his phone, hovering over it until it’s got enough charge so he can turn it on. He gets reception and then his phone is flooded with notifications and he’s glad no-one is around to hear the constant sounds.

>>Tell me you are safe.

>>Jesus Jas.

>>I know you’re meant to be in New York right now.

>>Please tell me you’re okay.

>>God.

>>You might not even have access to wifi or internet.

>>Fuck.

>>I hate this.

>>Please contact me as soon as you can.

>>I love you.

              There are dozens more, then there are rambling paragraphs of text detailing his thoughts on whatever he’s watching on television, followed by his thoughts on what the news is reporting about Sandy and then it circles back to hoping that Jake is okay.

>>I’m safe.

>>I’m sorry, my phone died and no electricity to charge it. There were emergency charge points set up, but I was kind of busy. I’ve been volunteering.

>>Of course you have. You’re wonderful.

>>Like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing in my place.

>>I go where I’m needed. I’d have been there in a heartbeat if I could.

>>New York is really not a great vacation destination right now.

>>Wouldn’t matter. I’d get to see you.

              Jake bites his bottom lip as he grins at his phone, happiness fluttering in his gut.

>>We knew this was only going to be a week, do kind of feel like I’m dealing with bad karma from a previous life or something though.

>>Fourth time lucky?

>>And I know this might be weird, but with DADT gone I was thinking we could switch to another messenger app. I don’t mind using Grindr for hooking up.

>>But I’m not hooking up with you.

>>You want to separate me from your bad-sex experiences and low quality encounters and put me in my own special folder huh?

>>You’re a secret romantic. Admit it.

>>God you’re a dick.

>>You’re the one who just said he’d be here with me in a heartbeat.

>>I could just delete the app and disappear forever.

>>We both know you wouldn’t do that.

>>You’d miss me too much.

>>I’d miss you.

>>And somehow I’m the romantic?

>>I’ll have a look and see if there’s something else that can be just for us okay?

>>Okay.

[letters-adressed-to-the-fire]

so this is why i think peter is the one looking in people's windows

A few days ago, I saw a swiftie on TikTok talking about how I look in people’s windows could be taken as the other perspective of the same story narrated in Peter, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, I decided to go in-depth and start a self-assigned quest to look for any clue that could interweave these two stories in a way that made sense.

I know this could sound a little absurd or could be taken as a stretch of some sort, but I believe, and I’m sure most of her fans would agree, that most of the beauty in Taylor’s writing comes from the countless different interpretations people bestow on her lyrics. I’m not asking you to take this analysis as absolute truth because I’m genuinely just having fun with it, and I hope you do too.

I’ll analyze “I look in people's windows” from Peter’s point of view and “peter” from the other character’s pov, whom we’ll call Wendy given the obvious parallelism to Peter Pan.

Well, the main and obvious connection is given by the “window” element. While Wendy is waiting for Peter by the window, Peter is looking for her from outside that window. If you look at this through very literal and rational eyes, I believe you’d think it doesn’t make sense that they were both looking for each other through the same window but never met again. So HERE is where I want to insert my interpretation.

There are two options I can think of that would explain the failed meeting. 

Peter intentionally avoided Wendy while still looking for her every day.

Every time they were looking for each other, it happened at different moments.

The first case presents a lot of questions, like, is the pledge to grow up what is stopping Peter because he knows he can’t do it? Or was he cruel enough to wait for Wendy to move on and then come back? Either way, the conclusion remains the same. In this scenario, Peter was a coward. If it was because he didn’t want to grow up, if it was because he just wanted Wendy to never move on, or if it was because he never gave her a real answer.

On the other hand, the second case talks about something that’s closer to a tragedy. They were always doomed by the narrative. While Wendy was waiting for him, Peter was looking for her, but Wendy never saw him—not when she waited or when Peter was looking for her. We would need to assume some things here tho. Either it all comes back to the first option and Peter had been avoiding her the entire time, or he thought she had already forgotten about him. The first option shows us, once again, that Peter is a coward, but the second one also tells us something important: he may be too scared to grow up, but he’s not selfish enough to stop her from moving on.

“Northbound I got carried away As you boarded your train South, south, south, south, south, south A feather taken by the wind blowing I'm afflicted by the not knowing so”

Based on this verse, we can design a new theory. He watched her leave and he was aching for her to come back to him. So he started looking for her in other people’s windows, wondering if one of them was gonna be her. Even when he had already said goodbye to her.

And here’s where another verse of peter will acquire significance:

“I thought it was just goodbye for now”

With both songs in mind, it sounds like he said goodbye to her, hoping they were gonna see each other again, but he also knew he had to let her go at the time and that he was condemned to miss her. But what Peter didn’t know was that Wendy was gonna go through the same thing, but she wouldn’t have the comfort of knowing what he did (wait for her).

“promises oceans deep, but never to keep”

This is why we get two completely different endings for both songs. While Peter is still addicted to the what-ifs, Wendy has turned off the light; the fantasies have expired for her. Wendy grew up; Peter didn’t. While I look in people's windows gives you the feeling of being running from house to house in a neighborhood you don’t recognize anymore, trying to fit into a routine you were used to in the past; peter reads like the last chapter of a book you’ll never touch again.