#i just 🥺 love that they make each other laugh

[snowballseal]

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that. 

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look. 

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.” 

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit. 

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.��

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question. 

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly. 

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework. 

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers. 

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

[lilas]

wip whenever

Tagged by @thevikingwoman and this time I have something you can read. 😂

tagging no one once again because I am Late but I’m back on the writing bandwagon! Small victories 😌

—

The idea leaves Avi’li’s heart hollow, disconnected. He can’t remember the faces and the cheers that greeted them in Sharlayan, and that’s maybe for the better. What does he have to give as an answer for their happiness except for this numbness that coats him?

His brow furrows. This numbness is worrying and too familiar, harkens back to memories of the Doman and Ala Mighan rebellions, the Dragonsong War…

Haurchefant’s death.

At that time, numbness had sunk its claws so deep into Avi’li’s skin that it was a part of him. How long has it been since it was finally forcibly shaken off him? How long has he been able to feel his heart again?

How long will it be before he can feel it again?

“Those aren’t edible.”

Avi’li blinks, and slowly turns to regard Erenville. “Huh?”

Erenville nearly fades into the gloom of the grotto, the light gone now behind the fake horizon. Only the crystal lantern on his pack lights his jaw in a warm yellow.

“You were staring at that mushroom for a long time,” Erenville gestures with a nod, “I promise no matter how much it looks like candy, it doesn’t taste like it.”

Avi’li scoffs, his nose twisting up in some effort to fight of a grin, “And you know this for fact?”

“Let’s just say even field researchers can make mistakes and leave it at that.”

[willowser]

if i had More Brain, i would write about ex-pro chef bakugou. that like. was once world renowned and at the top of his game. that was on his way to opening a second restaurant in his name and had all the money in the world and was probably like. a guest judge on tv shows — the one that would just tear contestants to shreds about burning their creme brûlée, or something.

and then something happens, idk: he's sabatoged, maybe, and an important critic has bugs in their food, or his cocky attitude lands him in hot water. he's offered business advice from an old mentor and ignores it because he thinks he knows better, that he's too hot right now to slow down until he has no choice. maybe having it all wrapped up nice and neat for him isn't as exciting as it was when he was sweating his balls off, trying to make sure every dish that left the kitchen was perfect, from the moment dinner started until the moment they closed for the night; something changes.

very publicly goes missing from the spotlight. for a little while. he can afford to, so it's not a big deal financially, but there are little whispers about him, what happened. the truth probably isn't even out there, just a whirlwind of rumors about why he's gone now. and people move on fast, when you're just another big name among a thousand others.

it's not for a few years until he decides to start again, from the ground up. doesn't want help from anyone, doesn't want any ties to the life he lived in his early 20's, whether his name has been tarnished or not. he just — wants to begin anew.

the little place he opens is small, menu not very lengthy because — and he finds this out as he's drafting dishes on a sticky note — he's very suddenly terrified that he's lost his edge, after so long. he doesn't really want anyone knowing who he is or what he's doing; if he fails, then he wants to do it quietly, out of the spotlight. without all the eyes on him.

bakugou can't run the place by himself, much as he'd like to.

the food? no problem. after so long, he'd like to be in the kitchen alone, searing and seasoning and plating it all himself — but he can't very well walk each dish out. whoever he hires, he decides, has to be so far from the world he used to live in, someone that doesn't recognize his face or the paring knife-sharp tone of his voice.

you just need a job. that's all you tell him. whatever mysterious desperation you try to hide in your face, he doesn't ask after. you don't know who he is — don't seem to care, either. in the interview, when he asks why here, why you, your answer strikes him in a way none of the others did, all the other shmucks he considers.

"i just moved to the area and —" you pause, eyes dancing around the closet-sized backroom he's tucked away in. when you look at him again, your eyes are shining, glassy with something he's seen in his own reflection. "gotta start somewhere, know what i mean?"

and yeah. he does.

[ervotica]

“shhh, shhh..I know, I know..” with finnick pls 🥺

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: this takes place after the poison fog, r is badly injured and finnick takes care of her

hunger games masterlist

You twitch against Finnick’s chest in the tall grass, rough like sandpaper against your wounded face. You’re covered head to toe in blisters from the fog, eyes half lidded as you begin to lose consciousness from the pain.

Katniss’ strangled wail is muffled and far away in your ears and you barely register the words.

“The water! The water helps.”

You drag yourself from where you’ve collapsed on top of your fiancé; crawling along on your elbows, you make it a couple of feet at most before you’re exhausted; your entire body is burning, skin raw, every little touch flaring up every nerve ending inside of you.

There’s a rustling next to you as Finnick is lifted and dragged to the shallow pool of water a few feet away; there’s a splash and a gurgled scream as Katniss and Peeta start to clean his blistered skin.

“Finnick,” you gasp, your concern for him overriding the searing pain for a split second. “Finn,” you croak again, eyes heavy.

It’s quiet for a minute, the only sound the whispering of leaves brushing against each other. All the while you lay face down, trying to peel your eyes open where they feel like they’ve been superglued shut.

Thick fingers pull at your jaw and your head turns; your neck is stiff and the touch feels like the lick of a flame against your bulging wounds.

“C’mon,” It’s Peeta. “Gotta get you to the water.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got her,” comes Finnick’s voice and his hands pull you up by the armpits. You hiss and squirm away from his hold, the skin on skin contact causing too much pain.

“I know, honey, I’m sorry.” He speaks in that soft voice you love, the one reserved just for you. “It’ll feel better soon.”

He lowers you into the water and you scream. It’s a pain unlike any you’ve ever felt before, white-hot and scalding. It’s like you’re bleeding from every pore.

“Shhh, shhh… I know, I know.” He winces as the blisters start to lodge free from your skin and you relax, sagging in his arms.

“‘S better,” you slur. Your eyes snap open as you grapple for purchase against Finnick’s neck; your thumb rubs circles into his cheek. “You’re okay? You’re sure you’re okay?”

He laughs, incredulous that even at a time like this, he’s where your worries lie. Pointed teeth glare back at you as you thumb at his bottom lip and smile.

“I’m fine. Just worried about you.”

“I feel better. I’m okay now.”

His muscular arms engulf you, wrapping around your waist now it’s finally safe to touch you again.

[maxlarens]

Hi ! As a pescatarian girly and as someone who has recently started to like Lando, I kept thinking about him with pescatarian!reader, because you know opposites attracts and also it made me think of the olive theory from 'How I met your mother', can be fic or smau

(also I'm the anon who requested the Charles fic and I was wondering if you gave names or emojis to your anons 🤔)

ahhh hi😇😇 thank u sm for sending another ask in. verrryy into this! ive never watched himym but i HAVE heard of the olive theory and genuinely think it can be so true. i also think like sharing food/giving certain parts of ur meal to ur partner is so sweet so i loved this a lot🥺🥺

also, tbh i have never had a consistent enough anon to name them/give them an emoji so i would loveee LOVE to do that🙏🏻 pls let me know what i should call u❤️ (and if anyone wants to be a regular/semi-regular anon and give themselves an emoji/name pls do!!!) ANYWAY alright i hope u enjoy— it’s a just a short ficlet 😌💖

LN: quid pro quo

pairing(s): lando norris x reader [read on ao3]

word count: 1.2k

“Eugh,” Lando says, feigning a gag as he looks at the plate of food set in front of you, “That’s disgusting. I don’t understand how you can put that in your mouth.”

Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at him, looking between your plate and Lando’s screwed-up expression; you point at your food, “Salmon? You think salmon is disgusting? Are you joking right now?”

He shakes his head fervently, a grimace still stuck on his face, “It’s gross.”

A laugh, loud and guffawing erupts from your mouth as you realise he’s being entirely serious. He’s fixated on your meal, frowning as if the fish has severely insulted him in some way. Quickly, you clap your hand over your mouth, concerned you’ll offend him if you keep laughing like that. This is one of a handful of dates you’ve been on together— clearly the first you’ve ordered seafood on— and you’re still trying to make a good impression on Lando.

“Wait,” you collect yourself, breathing deeply so you don’t fall into a fit of giggles again, “You’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “I just hate fish. You’ve never heard that?”

You snort a little indelicately, already going back to eating your salmon, “‘You’ve never heard that?’,” you tease, “Do you think I stalk you on the internet, Norris?”

He grins that small sheepish grin you like so much as a light blush blooms on his cheeks. You’re very fond of him really. He’s cute in a scrappy kind of way; he’s funny and charming, a little bit dumb sometimes; and he’s into you, which is always a bonus. You’re not together— not quite— just seeing each other when you both have time, but it’s been going very nicely if you do say so yourself.

You like him.

He likes you.

Lando rolls his eyes, and purses his lips in an attempt not to let you see the smile that he’s trying to hide, “Don’t you? Stalk me on the internet?”

“Never,” you answer resolutely, thinking blatantly of that night after you’d first met him when you fell down a rabbit hole, spending a good hour watching thirst traps of him on Instagram before coming to your senses, “Not once.”

He hums, unconvinced, “Alright.”

Alright. You make a face, almost stick your tongue out at him but think better of it at the last second. He laughs— giggles— at you. You look away from him, down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that spreads and spreads behind your hair. God, you like him. You’re trying not to let it get away from you. You get the impression that he’s not huge on relationships, and you’re trying hard to be casual about him. It’s difficult— mostly because everything feels so easy when you’re together.

“So,” you start as you push a forkful of salmon and leafy greens around your plate, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m a pescetarian.”

“Um,” Lando asks around a mouthful of half-chewed food, “What’s that mean?”

You stifle a laugh, “Like a vegetarian, but I eat seafood.”

He swallows and makes another face, similar to the earlier one. You can see this is hard for him to process, he clearly dislikes seafood to a degree that you hadn’t quite understood until now. It’s funny. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of reasons you fancy Lando Norris. Though you would think that as a pescetarian you’d want him to like fish, but you suppose by not eating them he’s just saving all the sea animals that you’re not— quid pro quo.

“What about, like,” he waves his fork around, evidently still wondering why you’d eat seafood voluntarily, “just being a vegetarian?”

You shrug, “Vegetables are boring.”

“Right. Better than eating fish though.”

“I like fish.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t get it… It’s— they’re slimy and they smell and they’ve got fucking beady little eyes. It’s not natural.”

“Okay,” you laugh brightly at his despondent expression, “I do need to eat them, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d probably die of malnutrition, or I dunno, scurvy.”

He groans, hanging his head so that all you can see of his face is that mop of brown curls. You think of your second date when you’d kissed him for the first time in your stairwell and how you’d threaded a hand into it— and they were soft and not heavy with product the way that you hate. The way he’d smelt like expensive cologne and tasted both smokey and sugary at the same time, just like the whiskey and cokes he’d been having at the bar. There’s a soft smile playing at your lips when he finally looks up.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “That I eat fish.”

He shrugs, shakes his head in a non-committal way that could be either answer and does that little grin again. The one that means he’s going to say something that you’ll find either unbearably cute or embarrassingly funny.

“Yes,” he says, grin not subsiding, “How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve got fish breath.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a shocked laugh bubbles from your mouth, you try to ignore the stirring feeling in your gut at the words how am I supposed to kiss you in favour of responding to his lack of tact Try, being the keyword there. It somersaults in your head, how am I supposed to kiss you he said, like he was thinking of doing it again. Which, okay, of course, he’s thinking of doing it again. You understand what this is— but there was an unmistakable fondness there that you just can't shake.

Anyway, you push thoughts of kissing him aside, he’d still accused you of having fish breath, “Wow,” you say dryly, with no malice at all as much as you try to feign it, “You say that to all the girls?”

He blushes, his tan cheeks turning a very pleasant red as he properly realises what he’d said, “Shit. No— oh my god— I’m sorry. I just meant—”

You wave him off, laughing, “I know what you meant. You’re good, Lando.”

“Phew,” he lets out a breath of relief, his nervous laughter punctuating the air between you, without meaning to he says, “God, I thought I’d just fucked it.”

You furrow your brows and frown, confused, “No. You couldn’t.”

You watch him scrub a hand over his face, embarrassed, before it falls away and he gives you a sheepish little grin that says he’s happy to hear that. Toothy, eyes squinted and carving dimples into his cheeks. Your face feels warm and you smile back, biting your bottom lip on the smile so it doesn’t grow and grow to cover your whole face.

Later, after you’ve finished lunch and spent too much time talking over a too-sticky table in your favourite pub, Lando kisses you up against a tree in the park by your apartment. You put your hand in his soft curls and you smell cologne and taste what he’s been drinking as he presses his tongue into yours. The coarse hair of his moustache brushes against your lips and you kiss back with equal gusto. You pull away when it feels like you two are veering into too inappropriate territory for this public park. He chases you, but you laugh softly, pressing a perfunctory closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. He groans, laughs, and puts his forehead against yours.

You hum, “I guess my fish breath doesn’t bother you so much, huh.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re never going to let that go are you.”

You shake your head ever so slightly, “Not as long as I live, Norris.”

[manikas-whims]

Love and Deepspace men's reactions when they hear a little kid say he'll marry you when he grows up 🥺

ZAYNE

❄️ “In that case, we're rivals now.”

❄️ Pats the kid's head, encourages the challenge and shakes his hand in the name of healthy sportsmanship.

❄️ He will initiate mini challenges with the kid— lets see who can bring more flowers for you, who can make you laugh first..if the kid has evol Zayne even challenges the kid, saying lets see who can make a better gift for you using their evol..You'd laugh and enjoy all the love and attention.

❄️ He will also instill good habits in the kid. “You won't grow up if you don't eat green veggies. And if you don't grow up, kid, then how will you marry her?”

❄️ Its all good because deep down Zayne’s heart will always belong to you, and he knows that you will always be his.

XAVIER

⭐ To Xavier, it's adorable that the kid wants to marry you. It's only natural. Who wouldn't want to marry someone as kind, strong, loving and protective as you?

⭐ But he will also subtly assert himself and let down the kid. He'll sneak a hand around your waist and pull you closer, making sure the kid is watching as he does so.

⭐ “She’ll already be taken by the time you grow up.” He'd state, causing your cheeks to heat up at the implications.

⭐ He'll also reassure the kid by saying that the kid might find someone truly meant for him by the time he's at that age.. someone who would be a lot like you but unique in their own way, and would love the kid..just as you and Xavier love each other.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Probably rolls his eyes and acts unbothered cause..PFFFFT! It won't happen. And that's cause he.. he will..cause he will marry— ahhh! even the thought of it makes him blush.

🌊 But then he'll notice you giving a lot of attention to this kid. You'll rub the kid's head, calling him adorable and peck his cheek for anything nice he does. And Rafayel would feel the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head. He'd be very jealous..of a kid at that!

🌊 “I’m also nice, aren't I?” Rafayel would point at himself. You won't understand the sudden question but nod anyways to sate his ego. Unfortunately, that won't be enough. He'll ask you to rub his head as well cause if the kid gets your affection, then he deserves it too. You sigh but do rub his head too. You also find it ridiculous because..HE'S LITERALLY YOUR BOYFRIEND AND YOU BOTH LOVE EACH OTHER.

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

[amazingwriter101]

🔥 Fourth house stellium in the composite increases intimacy, and puts a real focus on the home and domestic life but it should never be taken lightly. High dependence on each other due to familiar feeling can be a problem if not handled correctly.

🔥 People with Saturn in eighth house should overcome fear of nothing, emotional isolation, fear of intimacy, sexual inhibitions, obsession and addiction. That's the lesson Saturn is teaching you.

🔥 Composite Venus in Libra is a fantastic placement it shows a couple that think the relationship as a matter of importance and is willing to work together and compromise and communicate effectively/properly.

🔥 Leo Moons are diva. You cannot change my mind.

🔥 Virgo placements can be turned on on the sight of their partner cleaning their house, of if their partner smells good not necessarily wearing perfume but clean natural scent. You know what i mean?

🔥 Don't mess with Sagittarius and Gemini when it comes to debate or just witty banter i swear they're unstoppable.

🔥 I notice that most capricorn placements love working out.

🔥 Don't sleep on Capricorn humor. They may have a cold or resting bitch face but they make you laugh hard with just a simple joke, statement or pick up lines.

🔥 Pisces looks so unreal and dreamy I cannot-🥺

🔥 Libras, please stop being indecisive, like you need several people to decide for you.

🔥 Moon square Saturn aspect in synastry is bullshit. When the moon tries to express his/herself saturn denies it, there can be a lack of emotional intimacy between people. Because saturn signifies longevity, heck it would last for a very long time. The type of cold life couple.

🔥 I notice that most Virgos are good at photography.

[brokenmenswhore]

Hi, first of all I agree with the other ask, you're definitely my favourite writer on here, I love how you write Aegon! Also your smuts are SO hot but also so emotional idk it's all perfect 😭 I'd love to request a fic where Aegon and fem!reader (idk maybe some Stark girl living in the Red Keep for some reason?) are so obviously in love but they both express it with teasing and making fun of each other and they're kind of best friends who love going around and creating chaos (Alicent gets SO annoyed). One night they get pretty drunk and they finally understand they both want each other so badly. Also can we please have a happy ending, they're gonna stay together forever and stuff plz I'm done watching this man suffer he deserves some relief 😭 thank youuu ily 🫶🏻🥹

thank you so fuckin much 🥺 i’ll give you two happy endings for aegon if you know what i’m saying wink wink

trouble | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader

warnings: drunk sex, smut (MDNI 18+), rain sex is that a warning

────── ☾ ──────

Though you missed Winterfell, the Red Keep began to feel more and more like home the longer you resided there.

The greatest reason, perhaps, was Aegon. You two were fast friends, and matched each other’s constant desire to stir trouble. The more you spent time with him, the harder and harder you fell. You could not deny that you were in love with him if you tried, but luckily, no one ever questioned it.

Instead of telling Aegon, you simply teased him every chance you got.

“Open up, you drunken whore,” you called, banging on his chamber doors.

He swung the door open, sticking his lower lip out to pout at you. “I’m not drunk yet.”

You laughed. “The only fault you find with my insult is that you are not yet inebriated enough to properly embody it?”

Aegon smiled, “precisely.”

“I cannot stand you,” you said, walking past him and entering his chambers, plopping down on his bed.

“No, please, make yourself comfortable,” Aegon jested.

“I am only shocked to find your bed empty,” you reciprocated. It was a joke, but you still felt a pang in your heart at the reminder that Aegon had a constant cycle of whores in his bed. You were pleased to find it empty tonight, though.

Aegon leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “You are aware that I am your future king, and in fact not a whore, correct?”

“I beg to differ,” you responded, “you are but the greatest whore I know.”

“You must be having some shit sex then.”

You giggled at his retort. This was how you liked it: fun, light, and full of understanding of one another.

“Are you not tired?” Aegon asked.

You adjusted the pillows beneath your head, propping them up higher as you leaned back, seated on the mattress, “it is much too early to be tired.”

“I suppose that is true.”

“Are you aware that your mother has invited House Baratheon for supper?” you asked.

“Of course I am.”

You could tell by the way he answered that he had no idea.

“She did not inform you?” you questioned.

“She does not like me to be present at such things,” Aegon explained, adjusting his clothing, “she says I am simply too much. I believe she tells our guests that I am too preoccupied with duties that befall an heir.”

You laughed, intentionally overdoing it. “As if anyone would believe such a thing.”

Aegon opened his mouth in offense, but meant it as playful. “How dare you speak to your future king like that,” he said, laying down on the bed next to you.

“If you are my future king, you shall never see me on my knees,” you responded.

“Shame,” Aegon replied.

Your cheeks reddened from just the singular word. Did he mean a shame he would never see you on your knees?

“Did you come here simply to bully me?” Aegon asked, propping his head up on one of his hands as he laid on his side and faced you.

“Of course, why else?”

Aegon sighed. “I’m bored.”

You turned to look at him. “I am insulted that you are bored in my presence. I’m the most fun of anyone around here.”

“So entertain me then, Stark,” he said, playfully pushing your shoulder, “if you’re so fun.”

“If it were up to me, we would just crash your mother’s dinner,” you said.

Aegon’s eyes widened at the idea. “I’m in.”

You smiled. “Truly?”

Aegon nodded his head yes. “I’m already a disappointment,” he shrugged, “I may as well fill my cup while I’m at it.”

You laughed and jumped up off the bed, watching as Aegon fixed up his hair before you two left the bedroom.

You laughed and snickered quietly as you crept down the lavish staircase to the grand dining hall, slowly peeking into the room where Alicent was hosting her guests.

“She allows Aemond to be present, but not you?” you whispered, loud enough Aegon could still hear you.

“Why are you whispering? I want that wine,” Aegon said, marching into the dining hall and pulling you in with him.

“Oh, mother, you shouldn’t have!” Aegon said, strutting over to the wine in front of his mother and downing the entire cup in one gulp, “all of this for me?”

Alicent sighed. “Forgive my son, Lord Baratheon, he is rather drunk-“

Aegon continued to work the room as he signaled you to grab the wine bottle next to Aemond. Trying to do anything in close proximity to Aemond was a challenge; he would grab your hand and stop you in an instant if you weren’t careful. He already knew you were there, so Aegon had to truly distract him.

“I am not drunk,” Aegon protested, “but simply excited to greet our esteemed guests!”

“Aegon, this is highly inappropriate-“

“Lord Baratheon, a pleasure!” Aegon said, swiftly taking the man’s face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. The room stilled for a moment, shock and awe on everyone’s face.

You moved behind Aemond’s chair and snuck your arm out next to the armrest, gripping the top of the bottle and pulling back as Aemond moved to stand and stop his brother.

“Aegon!” Alicent bellowed as her son pulled away, giving a few gentle taps to the side of Lord Baratheon’s face before he caught your eye.

You held up the bottle, and Aegon swiped two glasses before you both ran out of the room.

“AEGON!” Alicent called, but you were both running as fast as you could, laughing as the wind caught your hair.

You ran up a staircase, Aegon following suit as you reached the roof of the tower. The night was beautiful, and you could see Sunfyre taking a nighttime fly in the warm night’s air.

You leaned your arms against the stone, overlooking the water as you watched Sunfyre and rested long enough to catch your breath. Aegon appeared next to you and did the same.

“You able to get this thing open?” you asked, passing him the wine.

Aegon took the glass bottle in his hands, swinging the top fourth into the stone. Glass shattered and wine spilled as Aegon rushed to right the bottle and keep most of the wine inside.

“Aegon!” you laughed, kicking the glass shards away from either of you.

Aegon poured the wine into the two cups he stole, handing you one as you sank down to sit on the stone flooring beneath you. You leaned back, relaxing as you turned to Aegon, who had already finished his entire cup.

“Gotta keep up, Stark,” he teased, and you downed your entire cup with one giant sip.

“You’re trouble,” you told him, holding out your cup for a refill.

“You like it,” he said, still jesting and teasing you as he filled up your cup, but his words ignited something within you.

You and Aegon continued to drink until the wine was completely gone and Sunfyre had long been asleep.

You were still coherent, but you were both undoubtedly pretty drunk.

“I cannot believe you actually kissed him!” you laughed, Aegon shrugging his shoulders and pretending to bow.

The mood calmed down for a moment, and you could feel your brain become hazy.

“You got me drunk,” you pouted.

Aegon placed a hand to his chest in offense. “I did no such thing.”

“I wouldn’t have drank this all if you weren’t also drinking it all,” you explained.

“So you only do what I do?” Aegon responded.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

Your eyes immediately widened, you were completely shocked by your own words. You went to stand and leave from the sheer embarrassment taking over you, but you didn’t have the energy to run away right now. Instead, you tried to dig yourself out of the hole.

“Woah, I’m really drunk, what did I just say? Must have been something stupid. Probably another joke.”

“You don’t seem that drunk to me,” Aegon contested.

“No, no, I am drunk. I am so ridiculously drunk that I don’t even remember how I started this sentence. I am so-“

Aegon could see right through you, and knew you were faking it to save face.

He cut you off by pressing a finger to your lips, shushing you. “And what do you wish for me to want from you?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “I think you’re more drunk than me, Aeg, because that made no sense.”

“If you’ll do whatever I want-“ Aegon’s voice trailed off as he reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered, slowly resting against your cheek as he caressed your face.

“Aegon?”

He snapped out of his daze as his eyes drifted from his hand touching you to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

You felt the liquid courage coursing through your veins. “What is it you wish for me to do?”

Aegon’s hand moved from your face down your body, until it reached the hem of your dress. He looked to you for consent, and you nodded, giving him the go ahead.

He pushed your dress up your legs until it rested entirely bunched up around your waistline, exposing your small clothes to him.

There was already a wet patch on the fabric. You had spent the entire evening with him, so it was only to be expected, but apparently not by Aegon.

“You’re really wet,” he said, in genuine shock.

You blushed and tried to close your legs. “I mean, yeah.”

Aegon slowly pushed your legs open again. “From what?”

He was not asking as foreplay, he was asking because he was curious and too drunk to understand why someone would want him.

You placed your head in your hands, but forced out the words, “well, I spent all of tonight with you, Aegon, this usually happens.”

You did not expect to say all that, but the wine in your veins was making you more bold than you had ever been with him.

Aegon nearly choked on air when you spoke. He ran a finger over the wetness, causing you to shudder from the sudden contact. “This is all for me?”

His lustful voice was now seeping through.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

Aegon ran his finger along the waistband of your small clothes, gently tugging them down and off of your legs to completely expose your cunt to him. You’d never felt so vulnerable.

“Aegon?”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

Aegon moved closer to you, but stopped himself. “You’re really drunk.”

You scoffed, “I’m not that drunk.”

“But-“

“Aegon, I’ve wanted you forever, and I’m not that drunk.”

Aegon blushed, which was something you’d never seen him do before. “You have?”

You closed your legs and leaned forward, sitting on your knees as you took his hands in your own. You sighed and looked into his eyes. “You are an idiot.”

Aegon pouted at you again, intentionally overdoing it. “Mean.”

“You love me,” you responded in a tease.

“I know,” he replied.

Your breath caught in your throat. The intensity and emotional gravity of the situation was slightly sobering both of you up. You gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment before Aegon pulled you into a desperate kiss, a few soft raindrops hitting the tops of your heads as your lips moved in sync.

“Can you stand?” you asked, pulling away.

Aegon rose from the floor, standing in front of you as you shifted closer and closer to him on your knees, raindrops still hitting both of you.

You gently tugged down his breeches, exposing his semi-hard cock. You took the length in your hand, gently kissing the tip before taking him in your mouth.

He started to show himself to you, growing as you began to gently suck him, moving your hand in sync with your mouth on his base. He threw his head back in pleasure as a hand held the back of your head. He did not apply any pressure, but simply rested his hand there for the comfort of knowing you would stay.

“Wait,” he snapped himself out of his lustful haze for a moment, “but I was gonna-“

You pulled off of his cock with an pop. “Would you just let me take care of you?”

No one had ever asked him such a question, and you could feel him twitch in your hand. You were gently, excruciatingly slowly stroking him, gazing up at him as he watched you.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” Aegon said.

“Like what?” you blinked, taunting him.

“Fuck,” he cursed again as he watched you taste him again, moving your head back and forth.

Aegon had never been treated so kindly before. Oftentimes the women he bed were rough upon request, or gave him nothing, only acting as a vessel for him to outlet his frustrations.

Despite never having touched one another, you and Aegon knew each other better than any two people had before, and this was no exception.

You began to swirl your tongue around his tip, collecting the pre-cum found there and spreading it around the rest of his cock as you sucked.

He had been in love with you for so long, and had pictured this in his dreams, or in his chambers with a fist around his cock, enough times that the sight of you on your knees for him was enough to make him come much faster than he usually did.

“I’m-“

You began to move your hand even faster, causing him to gasp and groan. You were determined to pleasure him first. You so desperately wanted to see how pretty he looked when he came down your throat.

You moaned around his cock, the gentle vibrations sending a shiver up his spine. You felt his muscles twitch in warning before he came, shooting his seed down your throat with a moan of your name.

He took a moment to recover, looking down at you as he wiped the rain off of his face.

“I was going to take care of you,” he said, his voice still a little shaky.

You spread your knees apart, pushing up your dress to expose yourself to him once again. The rain began to pick up, and you were blinking past the droplets. You held your dress against your waist as you stood, pressing your body against his.

Aegon swiped two arms behind your legs, forcing you to jump into his arms as he held you, your legs wrapped around his waist. He sat you down on the ledge, and you gripped his shoulders tightly, still a little too drunk to trust that you could keep yourself from falling to your death.

Aegon immediately lined his cock up to your entrance, but you spoke before he could enter you.

“Aegon, I’m going to fall and die. It’s slippery from the rain and I’m still a little drunk.”

Aegon groaned and pulled you down. “You have to flip then.”

“What?” You didn’t understand what he meant by “flip.”

Aegon sighed, “turn around, idiot.”

Aegon swung your body around and pressed on your upper back, bending you over as you rested your palms against the stone. You felt much safer in this position, even though you could see out below the tower roof.

“You could have just led with ‘turn around,’ you know.”

“I didn’t think that ‘flip’ held such a complex meaning,” Aegon said.

“You can never just say the simple version-“

“Oh shut up,” he said, pushing his entire length into you with one thrust, causing you to choke on your words and gasp at the feeling.

You were wet enough to lubricate his cock, but the rain was also to thank, your bodies even more drenched as the rain became heavy. You could barely hear the light whines Aegon was letting out as he began to fuck you.

He pulled his entire length out of you before slamming it back in, causing your body to jolt slightly forward. Aegon laughed at your reaction.

“Mean,” you said.

Aegon wrapped his hand around your hair, tugging your head backward. “Now now, that’s not very nice.”

Aegon set a steady pace inside of you, watching your body and face reacts to each and every snap of his hips.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Whimpers were free falling from your lips; you were unable to control yourself.

“You sound so pretty when you moan,” Aegon complimented, picking up the pace and nearly slamming his cock into you with every thrust.

“Wow,” you strangled, “not an insult this time?”

Aegon wrapped an arm around your chest and pulled you upward until your back connected with his torso. He braced himself against your hips, fucking into you and hitting an even sweeter spot within you due to the new angle.

“You want an insult?” Aegon whispered directly into your ear, “how about this? Just look at yourself, soaking wet and moaning from my cock in you. You’re a filthy fucking whore. My whore.”

You could tell from his eloquence that Aegon was sober. You could also tell how badly he needed you- it was almost as badly as you needed him. He didn’t have time to jest anymore, he needed your body and your mind to be consumed by the pleasure he was giving you.

“‘M- I am,” you moaned out, your head leaning backward and resting on his shoulder as he pistoned in and out of you.

“I want you to come for me,” he commanded.

You could feel raindrops hit your chest and run down your body every second, your dress completely soaked through and your hair wet enough that you could wring it out if you wanted to.

The feeling of Aegon inside of you was so much sweeter than you imagined, and his demands had you crying out his name as you reached your climax.

Aegon continued to hold you against him, keeping his cock inside of you as you came down from your high, your legs twitching from the intensity of it all as you tried to ensure that you could still stand.

“Aegon?” you caught his attention after a few minutes, wiping the rain away from your eyes, “you can’t stay in me forever.”

“Says who?” He was back.

“Aegon,” you repeated, and he pulled out of you, pushing your dress down, but it didn’t matter. The material was completely soaked through.

Aegon reached down and pulled his breeches back up, covering himself the best he could with the soaking wet fabric that no longer wanted to sit on his hips correctly.

Aegon stood and stared at you.

“Gods, Aegon, admire me inside, I’m fucking soaked,” you laughed, pulling him down the staircase and to your chambers.

You pushed the door open and were relieved to see that the handmaidens had already been in your room, and would likely not be back until morning. You pulled Aegon in, softly closing the door behind you as you began to undress.

Aegon did the same, ridding himself of all his soiled clothes.

“What now?” Aegon asked.

You wrung out as much water from your hair as you could before you climbed into your bed.

Aegon scoffed. “You’re insane, I’m wet.”

“As am I,” you spoke, matter-of-factly.

Aegon shrugged and joined you, both of you naked under the warm sheets. Aegon shivered at the sensation, feeling his muscles relax as he lay flat on his back.

You began to run a finger across his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles absentmindedly.

You took a deep breath, eyes focused on your movements on his body. “I do not wish to forget this in the morrow.”

Aegon turned his head, tiredness in his eyes as he looked at you. “Neither do I. I meant what I said. I do love you.”

You smiled. “As I do you.”

Aegon placed his hand over your own, holding it against his chest.

“You and I, causing trouble and chaos in the realm forever,” he smiled, giving you a small laugh.

You giggled. “What a pain in the ass for everyone else.”

“Ah, I’d say you’re a pretty big pain in the ass for me,” Aegon jested.

You opened your mouth in offense, but Aegon closed it by kissing you, this time more passionate and intimate than before. You were both sobered up now.

“But you love me still,” you smiled.

[goldenstring6123]

This happen to my bestie last week ajsjsjsjsns

She came to school all moody instead of cheery and vibrant and it's not normal to see her like that– I asked what happened, at first she doesn't speaks and just shook her head. Like, 20 minutes later, she suddenly cried. I was there next to her and comfort her, (I literally get all concerned and panicked)

During break, I asked again why she is like that and she told me that her mom told her to die out of frustration (Like– girl, wth) it is all because her little sister overslept and make her late for school. And her mother also late for works.

So, can I ask how LaDS men comfort their partner when they're feeling down? 🥺🥺

Thanks ♡⁠(⁠Ӧ⁠ｖ⁠Ӧ⁠｡⁠)

Lnds: Comfort for a crying heart

Warning: Comfort. GN!Reader

Author's note: I'm sorry to hear that about your bestie, no person should ever be told that especially by their mother. I'm sending my hugs to you, your bestie and everyone who's having a hard time! You have my full love and support!

Zayne: The Patient Comforter

Zayne never sensed the shift in your personality that day. He knew there was something different with you, but he didn't think much of it, considering it was morning time. When he got home after work, he found it odd that his house was very silent. It was as if it had gone back to the days when you hadn't moved in yet. He entered your shared bedroom and found you sleeping, but it was odd, too, because the room was too dark and the air was too dry.

He changed his clothes and tucked himself into bed, but unlike his usual routine, he wrapped his hand around your waist and buried his nose in your hair. You were running hot, and simply by that alone, he knew you had been crying. He hugged you while you sobbed quietly and tried to catch your breath.

"It will be alright, honey," he would whisper to you and rub your arms. When you rolled over to him, you immediately buried your face in his chest. There was nothing to say to him at all; it was just one of those bad days when all the bad things chose to be at the forefront of your mind. Zayne stroked your hair and pulled you in closer to his chest, not minding the snot and tear marks you were making on his gray shirt.

When you let go of him and scooted back a little, he went to the kitchen and brewed you tea. He came back and handed it to you while waiting to see if you wanted to tell him how you felt. You looked so tired in his eyes, so he was very, very patient with you. You both talked to each other for a good hour or two, and Zayne listened intently, asking you how you felt.

He wiped your tears for you and lent you his shoulder when you spoke. His hand held onto yours, and his thumb brushed the back of your palm while you cried again.

Rafayel: The Comforting Joker

Rafayel is more perceptive than you thought. The moment you stepped into his house, he could see that you were in a bad mood. He stared at you, and the first thing he asked was, "Why the long face?" which was pretty odd considering that you were smiling.

You thought you were holding it in so well, but when he asked that question, everything seemed to slowly topple down in an instant. You found a way to distract yourself in his home, but Rafayel was having none of it. He looked so serious about it, and not a single hint of teasing escaped his mouth.

His frown made you frown as well. You decided to give in and tell him what was wrong, how you felt heavy when you woke up in the morning, and how things seemed to go wrong the moment you got out of bed. The moment a single tear fell down your cheek, Rafayel pulled you into a tight, long hug. He said a lot of stuff to try and cheer you up, and he did his best to make you laugh even if it made him look stupid; he didn't mind doing it for you.

Along the way, he talked about how he'd rate bomb that rude store and punch that post you walked into, and as stupid as that sounded, you managed to let out a stupid laugh. When Rafayel saw that, he was more than glad to see you slowly getting back on your feet.

Throughout the whole day, he gave in to your whims, doing things that you liked and eating the food you wanted to eat at that moment. He acted all cutesy for you because he knew you liked that about him the most, but he didn't joke with you in return. Instead, he acted all romantic and such.

Xavier: The Silent Comforter

Xavier could sense that something was off. Everything was in its place, and you were acting practically the same as every day, but he couldn't help but be instinctively close to you as if the energy he was sensing was oozing out of your body. He was quiet beside you, tending to his own entertainment, but the moment he heard a sniff, all his suspicions were confirmed.

Xavier kept his lips shut and reached an arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He didn't say a word to you. You continued to sniffle and hiccup while watching the movie, but both of you knew you weren't actually paying attention to the show.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Xavier would pat your arm or your thigh to comfort you, placing a kiss every now and then. He listened intently to your rants and your concerns, nodding and asking the right questions. It was his strategy to get you to relax and let it all out naturally. Albeit he'd have a hard time trying to understand you through your sobbing, all he knew was that you needed him at that moment.

It didn't take long for you to calm down and doze off to sleep, feeling the emotional exhaustion weigh you down more than you'd like to admit. You always fell asleep on his lap because he would always comb through your hair while you spoke.

A few hours later, you would wake up next to Xavier on the bed, and on the night table was some convenience store food that he bought.

Sylus: The Kissing Comforter

Sylus didn't know you were having a bad day, even if you were going on and on about that small little thing that made you feel so infuriated. Although he was listening very, very intently, offering you some practical advice and partially suggesting that he could deal with it for you, it wasn't until you headed to the restroom that Luke and Kieran sneaked into his office after hearing the entire thing.

Sylus was confused when the twins told him that you were crying on the way to the bathroom. At that moment, Luke and Kieran thought that their boss was too…insensitive. Sylus knew the look on their faces.

When you headed back to his office after half an hour, Sylus was waiting for you by the door. He pulled you into his grasp and brushed his thumb under your puffy eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, and you burst out crying ugly like you did in the bathroom. He frowned when you told him that you were just having a bad day, but Sylus could see right through you.

Your efforts in brushing your own misery aside were futile at best.

He picked you up and carried you to the couch, and he patted your back like a baby. You went on and on again about how you felt so bad and why everything was going in the wrong direction, and this time, Sylus was quiet, shushing you and telling you, "Don't cry; everything will be better tomorrow." When you had nothing left to say, Sylus slowly began to distract you by giving you kisses in between cries, touching you, and petting you until you couldn't think of anything else for a few minutes. He nibbled on your ear and whispered sweet nothings alongside comforting words.

Author footnotes: I'm more than sure that their way of comforting the reader/you would vary depending on how you particularly act when you're having a bad day so I decided to go generic and not specify anything... Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

[chaotic-birds]

hi!! i saw you wanted to write fluff and i love your work! i was wondering if you could write a jasonxfem!reader on their wedding day, like getting ready and just being sweet and dopey.

(i tried to send this in earlier but it said it didn’t work so if you already got an ask like this is was from me 🙏🏼)

im so sorry about how late this is but tysm for sending something in! and ty for loving my work 🥺

TW reader has she/her pronouns, one rated r joke (tho its tame aha) | WC 1.5k | G fluff

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty!

masterlist

Jason is usually not one for superstitions, so you were surprised at how adamant he was about not seeing each other until the altar. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop him from designating Dick as his messenger.

“Dude, seriously? This is your seventh note to her,” Dick scoffs at the folded paper in his hand.

Jason looks at his brother through the mirror while fixing his tie for the tenth time.

“And there’ll be an eighth, so stop bitching and go give it to her.”

Dick grumbles, mumbling curses as he huffs out of the room.

“You know, you could just wait and tell her whatever it is in person,” Tim comments.

“And you could just mind your business,” Jason replies.

Jason notices Tim pursing his lips; he’s no doubt repressing his snarky comeback due to it being Jason’s big day.

The sound of the door opening makes Jason snap his head in that direction. Is Dick already back with your note?

Stephanie walks in, a big smile on her face.

“I thought wedding days were supposed to be filled with happiness. What’s up, grouch?” Stephanie questions.

Jason releases a big sigh and turns to face her.

With a pout, he answers, “My tie keeps looking weird.”

She laughs. “You really are nervous, huh?”

Stephanie comes to stand in front of him, undoing his tie.

“Can you blame me? Things don’t exactly go well for us, and I need this day to go well.”

“Is that why there’s a gun in your jacket?” Damian pipes in.

Jason shrugs. He’d feel naked without it.

Stephanie flattens the tie against his chest then taps him to confirm she’s done. Jason turns to the mirror again, overanalyzing the article of clothing. It still doesn’t feel right, but he guesses it never will.

“Thanks,” Jason mutters.

Dick walks back into the room, holding up a small piece of paper.

Jason eagerly meets him halfway and snatches the item from his hand.

You’re unbelievable, Jay. Ditching is not an option! I’ll see you soon xoxo (:

Jason grins at your scribbling. He can tell you’re in a rush and wonders if you’re as nervous as him.

There’s less than an hour to go, and he can’t tell if time is moving too fast or too slow. He just knows he’s ready to say I do.

There was a time when Jason believed a day like this would just be a fantasy. He never thought he’d wear a ring on his left hand. Never thought he’d find a home in a person.

But he’s so glad he did.

Jason stares at you with a smile so large it makes his cheeks hurt. However, he feels it can’t be helped. He’s buzzing with overwhelming joy.

Though, despite that, there’s the ever-present dark cloud above his head, threatening to shower him with self-deprecating thoughts. Thoughts that he wishes he could overcome, but somehow they keep sprouting. The most consistent out of them all is that he’s not deserving of—

“Jay?”

He turns his face and his gaze finds yours. They’re analyzing his features.

“What’s going on up there?” you whisper, sitting at their table at the front of the room. Everyone around them is eating.

It’s then he realizes his smile has faded, leaving behind a dejected expression.

You raise a hand to rub at one of his temples, not wanting to mess up his hair.

“Sorry,” he sighs. His eyes close briefly. When he opens them, you’re still staring at him.

“I love you,” he blurts. “I love you so much.”

You grin widely, hand dropping to grab his.

“I know.” You steal a kiss and squeeze his hand.

Jason opens his mouth to ask if you love him but stops. Out of all the places, all the events, this one should be a clear beacon of how much you love him.

As if reading his thoughts, you lean in and hug him.

It takes everything in him not to pull you into his lap and cuddle you like a stuffed animal.

“You’re the best man I know,” you say close to his ear. “You’re caring, thoughtful, funny, a little bit of a smartass,” you pause to chuckle, “and deserving.”

You pull away but keep a hand on his shoulder blade.

“And not only do I love you, but so does everyone in this room,” you continue. “I couldn’t have married a better man. You’re mine, Jason Todd. You know that?”

Jason hates crying. He hates it even more when it happens in public. But for fucks sake, he can’t stop the two tears that glide down his cheeks.

You kiss one and wipe the other.

“There’s darkness in us all, but focus on the light. Focus on us.”

Jason nods. His heart is beating rapidly from your sweet words.

“I was only supposed to cry at the altar,” he mutters, trying to bring some humor—some light—back into the atmosphere.

You smile. He can tell you’re recalling his tears as he watched you descend the aisle.

“Guess it means you’re a bigger crybaby than me,” you tease. Sure, you’ve shed a tear or fifteen, but not as much as Jason.

“We’ll see about that,” he huffs but there’s a smile on his lips. “The night’s not over.”

“No, it is not, little bro,” a voice joins the conversation as a hand slaps down on Jason’s other shoulder roughly.

Dick grins down at Jason. There’s something in it that’s wicked.

Dick turns, retrieves the microphone from the DJ booth, then walks back. The music lowers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time to start the fun,” Dick announces into the mic.

The room quiets as people’s attention shifts.

“I’d like to congratulate the lovely couple and share a few words,” he pauses to glance at Jason. “And you bet your zombie ass, I’ll be telling embarrassing stories too.”

Jason narrows his eyes at Dick, but one simple kiss from you on his cheek has him wilting in his chair.

He’s so done for.

Jason is perfectly content watching you on the dance floor from afar. But oh, that won’t do.

From being tossed from Stephanie to Dick, to Duke, to even Damian, he’s had his fair share of time away from his chair. A chair that his feet desperately miss.

“Woah, hey there, handsome,” you smile when you catch him. He sends Cass a glare as he stumbles after she made him spin.

“How are you still standing?” he groans, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist.

You shrug. “I’m surprised you’ve been dancing for so long.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” he grumbles.

He watches you peep over his shoulder and giggle–no doubt seeing his family laugh.

Jason loves your giggles.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I liked watching you shake your little hips,” you joke and wiggle him as if to reenact his moves.

Jason groans louder and grips your waist tighter.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he almost whines.

You pull him closer, whispering, “I rather be under you.”

Jason stops breathing for a moment. A bunch of thoughts fill his head, none of which are appropriate for a public setting.

You pull away, sending him a wink before scurrying off to who knows where. Jason watches you go. He wants to go after you, but truthfully, it’s better if he doesn’t. Or else, he might just find a secluded spot and turn his thoughts into reality.

Jason lets out a deep sigh and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Already can’t keep up?”

Jason turns to see Bruce at his side, eyeing you as you stop at your friends’ table. You throw your head back, laughing loudly as if no one can ruin your mood. You catch Bruce’s stare and smile sweetly—as if you didn’t just whisper something vulgar to Jason a second ago.

Bruce laughs softly, then directs his focus on Jason. He gives him a pat on the back like he’s done so many times before.

“I’m happy for you,” he says. “You’ve done well for yourself, son.”

Bruce gives Jason a genuine, big smile. It’s not one he sees much from him.

Jason nods. He may still have unresolved issues with the man, but there’s no mistaking the care and pride in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Jason says. He would say more, but he’s never been much of a talker… well, a sappy talker.

Bruce understands and gives him one more pat before he walks back to his table.

Jason takes one long sweep across the room. He takes in the pretty decorations and the smiling faces. He sees people who have been by his side through rough times and, now, one of his happiest.

His eyes land on you last.

You’re so beautiful that his heart churns.

Jason can feel the dark cloud forming above his head. He can hear the faint sound of thunder.

He shakes his head.

No.

Not today.

He won’t stand in the storm. He won’t be showered in doubt. If he were to be showered, he wanted it to be with your love.

Ignoring the thunder and drizzle, he moves away from the storm and makes a beeline for you.

Here, with his hand around your waist, there is sunshine and chirping birds. Here, there is happiness.

Here, there is love.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

Dividers by @strangergraphics (ty!)

[norrizzandpia]

if we're adding more to the Oscar verse can we please get a peek into the time when they weren't together but everyone could feel it coming 🥺🫣🥹 ALSO BESTIE OUR BOYS POSTING ICE BATH PHOTOS HAD ME KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING

BRO I KNOW EXACTLY WHICH ICE BATH PICS YOURE TALKING ABT AND WHEN I TELL YOU THOSE CAME OUT AND I DIED, I. DIED.

I love McLaren so much for that post

ANYWAYSSSSS this is from my older Oscar social media au titled best friends to benefits to lovers.

It’s basically a prequel because it takes place before they got together and were just bsfs with benefits

Just Benefits Right Now (OP81)

Summary: It’s common knowledge they love each other. Just not to them - even when they’re sleeping together.

Warnings: fluff, pining, YEARNING, sexual conversations and innuendos, Oscar and yn being dumbasses, language

Note: this is very much casual by Chappell roan and risk by Gracie Abram’s coded

“Can I be honest?” Oscar asks from the other side of the table at breakfast. Y/n sits staring at him, a certain feeling in her stomach that gnaws uncomfortably at her insides.

She nods, “Always.”

He takes a deep breath and it almost feels as though her body is anticipating something she’s always been waiting to hear. What she’s meant to be anticipating, she has no idea.

“How would this be a good idea?” His eyes avert from hers and her stomach finally settles. Oh. Her discomfort was linked to the massive, life-changing scenario she presented Oscar the night before. Friends with benefits. What could go wrong? They loved each other and hadn’t slept with anyone in months, it was getting to the both of them. They wanted the best for each other and each could lend a helping hand to the other’s problem. No strings attached. That’s what she had said.

She shrugs, “We’re both antsy from not getting laid. This could take the edge off. It might even help your racing.”

He laughs and Y/n smiles, “Can I think about it?”

“You asked that last night and I agreed. That hasn’t changed.” She reaches over the table and lays her hand over his. Her soft thumb rubs over his skin and his whole body warms.

The warmth makes him give in, “You know what? I’m down. We’ve been friends for years, nothing could change that.”

She nods and smiles, but there’s an unsettling hesitation to her agreement. Pushing it aside, Y/n giggles as she asks him when they should fully go through with the new plan. There’s a slight blush to their faces as they discuss and they deduce it’s from the unusual topic.

The stirring stomachs and slight relief filling their bodies is not something their minds decide to address.

—

Lando hears the giggling from down the hall. His light chuckling as he stands completely alone makes him look insane as engineers pass by him, but the man has never been one to shy from social anxiety.

His knuckles rap against the door softly, trying not to disturb the friends in their fun. The volume decreases after a few seconds as Oscar’s heavy footsteps meet the threshold. It opens and Lando shoves his way through, Y/n rolling her eyes at him.

“Come on in, Lan.” Her tone is dry and sarcastic, but Lando sees the sparkle in her eye. Sure, the sparkle was usually bigger when directed at Oscar, but he knew that was a sign of her adoration nonetheless.

He plops down next to her, his arm around her shoulders, as Oscar closes the door. Amidst their greetings, Lando misses the way Oscar’s face contorts into something akin to jealousy at how cuddly his friend and his best friend seem to be. He shakes it off. Y/n is single despite their plans to find each other in white sheets. If she wants to flirt with Lando, so be it.

It still irks him though.

“We have an interview to get to, Osc. PR is making me come to summon you. They seem to think I’ll be able to lure you away from Y/n quick enough.” Lando explains, his eyes drifting between the two. Something about the way Oscar’s hands twitch at his sides and Y/n’s fingers pick at the skin around her nails tips him off to the tension. Tension between Oscar and Y/n is not surprising considering their confusing relationship, but this is more sexual. It’s not even as if that’s surprising, Lando’s just never seen it play out in front of him before. Drunk Oscar is quite open about how attractive he thinks Y/n is, there’s no doubt he’s had suggestive thoughts about her. Same goes for Y/n. Drunk words are sober thoughts, no?

He’s almost contemplating the possibility of them having found each other on an alcohol-loving night, leading to clothes on the floor, but the strained nature of the two makes him second guess it. If they would have had sex together, Oscar would’ve never let her go. Lando knows that.

What’s this then? What’s with the new wandering eyes and brighter smiles? Or the recently discovered confidence to make their feelings so obvious?

Lando practically wipes the drool off of Oscar’s chin as he stands from the couch in the corner of the room, untangling himself from Y/n, and grabbing Oscar’s arm to lead him out of the room.

“Have fun! Be quick!” Y/n shouts as they leave. Oscar nods and smiles at her before the door closes fully, yelling back about how fast he would be.

The exchange is too flirty compared to the usual Oscar and Y/n. The cheeky grins and reassurance on how short of a time they would have to be apart makes Lando question Oscar immediately.

“Did you two fuck or something?” His hands are up in the air, completely lost at the two. Lando has always wanted the friends to wake the fuck up and confess how much they’ve always loved each other, but this doesn’t feel like that. This feels lustful and not at all like how he would expect the two to act after having found out about love shared.

The dreaded words leave Oscar and Lando almost claws his eyes out, “No, we didn’t. But, we’re talking about, like a friends with benefits type thing.”

Lando halts, “No, Oscar. You guys can’t be friends with benefits.”

Oscar’s eyebrows scrunch together and he puts his hands on his hips, “Why not? Who are you to tell us what we can and can’t do?”

Lando groans, “Because! I’ve been where you are, in love with someone and taking anything I could get to be closer with them. It never ends well. Especially friends with benefits.”

“Who said anything about being in love?!” Oscar’s eyes practically bulge out his head, his arms flinging out by his sides.

Lando goes quiet and his head cocks to the side. No words are spoken, none can be said. Lando refuses to tell Oscar how he feels, but he also refuses to lie. It’s a look of plea, please be serious right now, but that’s as far as they get. Oscar turns around, clearly frustrated, and walks down the stairs to where they’re needed. Lando lets him go, putting space between them, and stares at the picture of them hanging on the wall beside him. Taken in Suzuka with their trophies, their smiles are so big. Lando wants Oscar to be that happy and stress-free again, but, then again, when was Oscar ever?

Y/n and Oscar have known each other for years, this cycle having always existed. No matter how many times Lando could try to say it, try to make Oscar wake up, he wouldn’t get it. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t come to terms with it.

Because of that, this friends with benefits plan was destined to fail miserably.

—

The door slams shut behind them and quiet fills the room. Y/n and Oscar stand side by side in his apartment, a translucent look to their skin.

They shuffle to his room, careful not to wake his roommates. The next slamming is Oscar’s personal door, solidifying the start of their attempt at sleeping together. His hand gently finds hers, but neither dare to look at the other. They stare at his bed and link fingers.

“What do we do now?” She whispers. It’s a stupid question, she knows that and so does he, but he doesn’t say it. He simply squeezes her palm and finally turns so his body stands in front of hers.

His long fingers play with the sleeve of her shirt, “Can I take this off?”

HIs deep brown eyes bear into hers, helping her get more comfortable with the situation, and she nods.

“I’m gonna need words, Y/n.” His lips kiss her ear, his voice soft.

Her breath is hot against the skin of his neck, “Yes, Oscar.”

And with that, the first item of clothing falls to the floor. Neither of them is prepared for whatever transpires between them. From the way Oscar holds her to the gentleness of their eyes, things stray away from what they had prepared.

No strings attached. Casual. Friends with benefits. This is what this was. That’s all. But, they were beginning to find out it was hard being casual when the other was someone they had cherished for so long, someone who had taken residence in the other’s heart. Oscar admired her and her strength. She admired his sympathy. Now they admired the way the other touched, the way the other sounded. At their most vulnerable, the friends found a gray area. A gray area that had always been there, but was only now so obvious with how naked they were.

Nonetheless, they were still friends, and still claimed the title as friends with benefits. Casual, no strings attached was some sort of chant in their minds when they both agreed it was best if Y/n didn’t sleep over, that she leave the minute they were done. And when he closed the door on her, hearing her walk down the hallway and out of the building, Oscar closed his eyes and breathed.

The weight on his heart made it hard to continue the mantra.

—

This was the weirdest Lando had seen Oscar and Y/n. Their touches were fleeting as if once their skin met, they realized what they were doing and pulled away. Usually, they drank in the softness of the other like it was something that would be gone tomorrow. Now, it’s like they’re nervous to cross some sort of line.

It clicks in Lando’s mind.

The line’s already been crossed, forcing them into unknown territory. His warnings and pleas for logical thinking went ignored by Oscar. Friends with benefits it was.

He looms over the two, “Oscar, I need to talk to you.”

Y/n and Oscar exchange a look, something harsh in Lando’s tone, but he goes with the man anyway.

Lando drags him by the arm to a small room out of the way, closing the door and turning around to stare at Oscar.

“What?” He asks, but he already knows. He’s sweating under Lando’s glare.

Lando folds his arms across his chest, “You’re not dumb, Oscar. You know this isn’t going to go well.”

Oscar scoffs, “You don’t know that! It could go anyway! We’ll stay friends. It’ll be fine. Once one of us finds someone else, we’ll stop.”

“And what happens then? When you have to see her with another guy, knowing what it’s like to have her that way? Or vice versa?” Lando counters. He takes a step toward Oscar.

Oscar takes a step back, “It wouldn’t be that way.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’d stop having sex with her and then you’d just completely go back to being platonic with her? You’d know what it’d be like to have her that way and all of a sudden, you think you’d be able to turn it off? On top of everything that started before this?”

This time, Oscar doesn’t argue or act stupid when Lando mentions the supposed feelings he believes Oscar to have. At this point, Oscar can’t bring himself to admit to anything. He can’t say he doesn’t love her nor can he say he does. He can’t say they’re just casual nor can he say that they are. It’s been a few weeks of having her naked under him and it’s all he can think about. He loves knowing that side of her, having her trust him enough to give him that side. Though, he doesn’t know how serious it all is to her because of her lack of interest in staying after. He wants her to, doesn’t want her to feel as though he’s using her, but she’s so adamant.

It’s fine, he tells himself. They’re just friends, she can leave whenever she wants.

Still, Lando’s words cut into his skin, sharp and painful. He’s right, Oscar won’t ever be able to unsee her unraveling with him, but he wants to believe he can. He wants to believe that he still wants them to be just friends as they get into all of this, that he’s fine with continuing to be friends with benefits.

The idea of her being with another man, not just in bed, makes his skin crawl. To experience and be forced to be cordial with a man that has what’s hi- what he knows now isn’t something he thinks he could do.

In all his stubbornness, Oscar can’t let Lando be right. “Yes. It wouldn’t be that hard.”

It’s already hard to say goodbye to her now. Saying goodbye to her completely in that sense sounds impossible.

Lando looks at him as if he knows it too. He sighs, “Alright, fine. I believe you. But, if you ever need someone to talk to, if you’re ever confused…”

The two share a glance and Oscar nods, “I know. You’re there.”

When he emerges from the room, Y/n is staring intensely at the door. He sits down next to her and she leans forward. Her perfume replaces the rationality in his head.

“What was that all about?” She whispers, looking up at him with her kind eyes.

He smiles, dimples deep and permanent around her, “Just racing stuff. Strategies we need to keep quiet and all that.”

She nods and it seems as though the perfume hasn’t completely left him mentally helpless.

—

“Fuck, Y/n.” Oscar pants as he rolls off her. Their fingers lace together under the blankets and Y/n’s face turns to the side to smile at him.

She doesn’t move from her spot, giving Oscar hope she won’t leave, but when her body slugs over the side of the bed and begins getting dressed, his actions forget to check in with his head.

His hand grasps hers tightly, holding her from getting too far away. She looks down, her eyes to their hands before moving to his eyes. They’re dilated and big, puppy-like.

She runs her other hand through his hair and he sighs, “Please, stay.”

The two words are soft and hang in the air around her. They’re daunting, suggesting a break in the meticulous rules they set to protect themselves. She’s so close to saying no, to completely running from the situation and Oscar himself, but he holds her so tight, like he knows she’s slipping away, it’s hard to reject him.

Her gaze moves to the door and Oscar holds her tighter, “Y/n, it doesn’t mean anything, remember? I just don’t want to be alone after the race.”

Ah, the race. For fucks sake. Of course, he only wants her to stay because of the bad race he had. How could she be so stupid? It doesn’t mean anything. This isn’t supposed to mean anything. It doesn’t to him. He only seeks comfort in his best friend, the one person he’s always looked to when things didn’t go right. Y/n falls back into his bed, defeated. Some part of her, even though it had been scary, wanted him to want something more. She wanted him to break the rules with her. Yet, she lives in a world where the only way she can get close to Oscar in the way she craves is through this. This horrifying, painful excuse of a relationship, a friendship. Whatever you wanted to call it. When all is said and done, he’ll go back to dating women he loves and she’ll live with the memories of him above her, pleading with her to stay for reasons she hates.

To know she had been the one to suggest this, to get herself into this complicated situation, hurts the most. There is a world where she doesn’t know this. A world where Oscar doesn’t hold her in the way he is or touch her in the way he does. That world seems less cruel.

Though, she finds herself here. Oscar’s chin on top of her head as his breathing evens out, sleep finding him. His arms are wrapped around her body and his chest meets hers every time it expands with air.

What she wants is to not be here, not experience him in this way, but it’s too good to give up. To stop all of this too soon would be denying her heart something she’s wanted ever since she met him years ago. She couldn’t ever bring herself to do that.

So, she keeps her eyes open, fighting off the sleep she wants so bad, so when he ends this, she’ll remember what it was like to sleep next to him.

—

Small snippets of music from TikTok play from the phones of Oscar and Y/n as they lay against each other in his room. A video of a couple laughing together as they kiss and cook in a kitchen loops itself on her screen. She stares at them, wondering if that’s what people see when they see her and Oscar. Knowing what her friends and family have said in regard to the way Oscar and her act toward one another, she pictures him looking at her with this much love.

Surely, she always tells them, if he looked at her with such care, she would notice. What she can’t tell them is that the way he looks at her is pure lust, something that’s self-explanatory as they find each other every night to feed certain urges.

“You’ve been watching that for a while.” Oscar says, his hand trailing from her arm to her hair and pushing it out of the way. She sits up, his touch being so hard to stomach with the thoughts rushing in her mind.

The noise from his phone stops as he turns it off and throws it to the side, suddenly concerned for how stoic Y/n is. He sits up next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder.

Again, his touch is too much to take, so she moves from the bed and stands at its foot.

Now, Oscar’s really worried.

“What’s wrong?” He clambers over to her, sitting in front of her and staring up at her nervous face.

It all comes out like word-vomit, “What if I’m never loved?”

She doesn’t even know where that notion comes from, but it’s a genuine worry. It always has been for her, just one that’s gone unsaid.

Oscar reels back, “Don’t say that.”

She huffs, “Why?”

He’s very clearly speechless, his mouth hanging open as he scoffs. “Because.”

“Why because?” She tries again. For some reason, knowing Oscar still doesn’t want her in the way she does him even when he has her sexually makes her panic that no man could want her if one has her body and still doesn’t choose to love her. It’s drowning and stressful, but, at this moment, all Y/n sees is her best friend, not the man she sleeps with, and she seeks his reassurance.

Oscar takes a breath, “Because, of course, you’ll be loved, Y/n. It’s easy to love you. You’ll find the one and it won’t be hard for them to love you.”

What if I don’t want the one, she thinks.

“How do you know that?” She counters, tears pricking her eyes.

Oscar visibly softens, his words coming out faster than he likes, “Because I love you.”

The three words are something she’s heard from him multiple times, but now, with the frequent benefits, she finds herself searching for more meaning. Three words she has wanted so badly to shift away from platonic and to romantic begin to with the way he looks at her. It’s as if the world falls away and what is left is only her. She watches the brown eyes dilate completely, only black color being left to be seen. She watches him stare at her with the utmost respect and sincerity.

This can’t be friends, can it?

“You love me in a friend way, Oscar.” She clarifies, hoping for him to give her something that suggests what’s unfolding in front of her eyes.

He hardens immediately, “Yeah, but I still love you. If I love you as platonically as I do, it won’t be hard for someone to love you romantically.”

She stares at him. He mistakes pain for confusion.

“Think about it like this,” He begins, “You love me platonically. But, it’s easy for you to see someone loving me romantically because of how much you love me just as I am. Platonic love can easily find itself to be romantic love.”

She misses his last sentence and the underlying meaning of it because she’s too hung up on the one component he misses in his analogy.

That she loves him. Not platonically, but romantically.

—

The next week, Y/n can’t bring herself to see Oscar. Multiple excuses of being busy or having some sort of appointment to go to, she dodges his every try to see her. Her realization that she’s fully in love with him hit her hard and it must’ve been clear to Oscar with the way he pestered her after she fled his apartment that day. In a heap of tears and anxiety, Y/n mumbled some random excuse about needing to leave and practically ran from Oscar when he tried to question her. He was confused, but tried to leave it at the fact that she probably got upset over her emotional confession and just wanted to be alone. He tried, but he still found himself wandering to the possibility she got upset over the fact that he was focusing so heavily on his (made up) platonic love for her.

Remembering the one person that had warned him about the mess he would find himself in, Oscar calls Lando.

After two rings, the British accent fills the speaker.

“Is everything okay?” Lando asks, as if he already knows.

Oscar is quiet for a moment before calmly speaking, “I haven’t seen Y/n in a week.”

There’s a small sigh on the other end of the phone, “Why do I need to know that, Oscar?”

“Because you told me you’d always be there for me if I ever got confused.”

“So, you’re confused?”

“Yes.”

“About her?”

“I love her, Lando.”

What once seemed to be the whispered gossip of the paddock is now a firm fact as Oscar finally admits to something everyone had always suspected.

Lando tries to hide the smile in his voice, but Oscar hears it anyway. “And what do you want to do with that information?”

Oscar rubs a hand over his face, “I don’t know.”

Lando grunts, “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. The last time we spoke she ran out of my apartment after I had spoken about how much I loved her platonically. That could either mean she got upset that I seemed to only love her platonically or she noticed the way I was adamant in that I loved her just as a friend that she realized I did love her romantically and panicked. She either loves me or she doesn’t and I can’t tell.” Oscar rambles. His palms are sweating and it almost feels as though his entire life is falling apart in front of him. Admitting what he just did either means losing the one person he values most in his life or finally getting to experience love the way it should be.

Lando smiles, thinking how cute this all is as he witnesses a massive love story for himself, “I think you should just tell her, Osc.”

Oscar laughs, “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? That’s the advice you promised you’d always be there to give me when I was fucking completely lost in my life?”

Lando nods, “Yep. Now follow it. Thanks.” He ends the call before Oscar can grill him on why he’s so confident in Y/n loving him back that Oscar’s only action to do is tell her how he feels.

The man is left to stare at his phone, his Lock Screen to be more specific. A picture of Y/n and him after his sprint win. The sparkles in her eyes, the ones he always loved from afar, are the most prominent here compared to every other time he’s gotten them photographed. It’s the reason he set it as his background.

His inner monologue, reminding him of why this photo sat proudly on his phone, is what pushes him to pick up his coat, rush from his home, and delete his train ticket.

The ticket that was meant to get him to the city where the hotel he would be staying at for the SIlverstone Grand Prix was. The ticket that ensured he raced, did his job, gone from his phone.

In the back of his mind were the texts Y/n sent him, telling him they shouldn’t meet because he needed to prepare for the race. Knowing she used that as a way to distance herself from him, whether that was because she loved him or didn’t, he needed to know why. If she didn’t love him, at least he tried but, if she did, what a world he would get to be acquainted with.

After all, he’s always had to fight for the things he loves.

—

The pounding on her door makes Y/n grab a knife. It’s so late at night, the only person who would reasonably be at her door is Oscar but, after all her deflections, she knows it’s not him.

Or so she thought.

Oscar stands with his head held high, but it plummets when he sees her grasp on the weapon.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n! What the fuck?!” He yelps, jumping away from the door with his hands up.

She scoffs, “What do you mean?! What’re you doing here? Your train leaves in like five hours! You should be asleep or packing!”

She’s panicked. He can’t be here. The majority of her is so susceptible to just giving in and telling him how much she loves everything about him. Being around him means jeopardizing what little she has.

Oscar shakes his head, “I deleted my ticket. I’m not going.”

The knife clatters to her feet and Oscar screams out. She shushes him before ushering him inside whilst looking outside, making sure he didn’t disturb any of her neighbors. When they’re comfortable inside with the door closed, she whips around and jabs a finger in his chest, “Why did you delete your ticket?!”

He grabs her wrists, stopping her hitting, “Because I needed to see you. You’ve been blowing me off all week.”

She rolls her eyes, “Because I didn’t want to blow you off all week.”

He gapes at her, loosening his grip on her. She moves away from him, picking up the knife and putting it back in the drawer.

“Y/n, I don’t understand. Everything was fine until that day in my room when you started talking about not being loved.” He says, a hand over his face in despair.

She shakes her head, “It’s always been not fine, Oscar. You just never noticed.”

He meets her eyes and he snaps, “What do you mean?!”

She turns around, another sign of her rejection of him, “I’m not prepared to have this conversation with you.”

“Not prepared or just scared?” He counters, hands on his hips as he stares at her back.

She doesn’t respond, giving him the moment to explain why he’s even here in the first place.

“Well, I’ll let you know that I’ve always been scared. Scared of the way you make me feel, of what it means to be around you and love you as much as I do.” He breathes for a few seconds, letting the previous tension dissipate as she turns around to look him in the eye, “I love you, Y/n. Sleeping with you, being friends with benefits, was always just going to be a way for me to get a taste of you that way until you decided to end things. And, now, it feels like you’re trying to end things and all it’s done is make me realize just how gone I am for you. I kept telling myself that once you decided to be done with our casualness, I would be able to turn it off, but that time has seemingly come and I can’t do it. I love you too much.”

They stare at each other for a minute before Y/n smiles softly, “You love me too much?”

He nods, taking a step toward her, “Not platonically. Very much romantically. I think I always have.”

She meets him in the middle and his arms find her waist, hers around his neck, “Oscar Jack Piastri.”

He smiles down at her, “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.”

Her fingers tangle at the bottom of his hair, forcing his head down to meet her lips. They move together softly, the first kiss that’s openly filled with love. When they pull back, Y/n whispers against his lips, “I love you so much.”

His eyes closed, relishing in the moment, he whispers back, “It’s never been hard loving you.”

“I wasn’t blowing you off this week because I didn’t want to blow you off.” She giggles, he does with her, “I just thought I would never have you the way I truly wanted and I couldn’t deal with it.”

He moves his head away from her slightly, catching her eyes quickly. They dilate as they look at her and Y/n is finally able to know it’s with love.

Oscar cradles her face, “You’ve always had me the way you wanted. You just never saw it. But, now you do, and you’ll never not have me the way you want. I’ll always be yours.”

And she would always be his.

[coco-loco-nut]

Stolen

pairing: grid x wolff reader

summary: the grid just can’t help but steal you any time you show up to a race, you just want to pass your classes

a/n: short blurb! thanks for the request, sorry it took so long 🫶

requests open masterlist

—————

“Pup, come look at this,” Lando drags you away from the Mercedes garage, where you just sat down.

“Lando, I just got here. Can’t I relax on my day off?” you pout. Every time you come to the track, someone is stealing you from your parents. That’s what happens when you are raised on the track.

“Ah, Miss Wolff, how is school going,” Zak asks when Lando drags you in.

“It’s going. Today is my day off, I was going to spend it with my parents,” you give Lando a pointed look.

“Quit complaining, come on,” Zak shakes his head as Lando drags you away.

“What did you want to show me?” you sigh as Lando leads you to his drivers room.

“My new line, a hoodie for you,” Lando hands you a soft hoodie.

“Thank you, but you couldn’t bring it to me?” you frown.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to hang out with you,” he pouts.

“You want to hang out with a teenager? I appreciate your friendship Lando, but I need to study for my exams and it’s hard to do that when everyone steals me from the garage,” you tell him, hoping he understands since he finished school while racing.

“I do, you are fun. I also get that you have to study, even if it is your day off school. I’ll see you later?” Lando says, hugging you.

“Yeah,” you hug him back before going back to Mercedes. On the way back you get stolen by Logan, Zhou, Fred, and Christian, meaning you lost an hour of study time.

“Alright Christian, give me my daughter back,” Toto shakes his head when he finds you in the Red Bull garage after your SOS text.

“Bye Uncle Christian,” you give him a little salute as you walk out with your dad.

“I can send out a message asking everyone to stop kidnapping you,” Toto suggests, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“No, don’t, it makes them so happy,” you chuckle, even if you are a little annoyed. You grew up in the paddock and loved everyone here.

“Whatever you say. Why don’t you use my office to study? Maybe that will help,” he says, leading you to the motorhome.

“She can use my driver room, no one will look for her there,” George chimes in. He and Lewis will always be your favorite current drivers, even if they are trying to set you up with Kimi or Ollie. George’s idea works, and you get a couple quality hours to do your work.

“Sweetheart, it’s time for George to get ready for the practice session,” your mom pops in as you are putting your books away.

“Thank you, Georgie,” you hug the driver who hugs you back.

“Carmen is waiting for you with a coffee,” George winks, stepping into his room. Your mom takes you to hospitality where you find Carmen waiting.

“You are the best older sister ever,” you say, taking the iced coffee from her.

“I figured you needed something after the boys bothered you all day,” she laughs. The two of you watch the practice with your mom, watching the boys pull out a P3 and P4 for FP1.

“That’s it, Kid, you are staying here all weekend and every race,” Lewis tells you once he’s back in the garage. You are his good luck charm, he’s called you that since you were little.

instagram

georgerussell63 great weekend for the fam 👊 oh and ig @/ynwolff was there too

lewishamilton just two guys and their dad

ynwolff this is me erasure 😭

ynwolff dislike button ➡️

jensonbutton what did i do other than help raise you, Pup 🥺

ynwolff sorry uncle jense, love you 🫶

mercedesamgf1 if the rest of the grid would stop stealing my daughter, she’d be in this picture 😐 - toto

scuderiaferrari No. - Fred

landonorris I agree with Fred

williamsracing technically we had the Wolff family first…

user1 find someone who looks at you the way the merc team looks at each other

ynwolff ew, no that’s my dad and older brothers

user2 LMFAO

[thatacotargirl]

Hi there, still accepting requests? For some reason I'm in the mood for some classic Elriel angst 🥺 maybe where Inner Circle reader loves her best friend Azriel and secretly knows that they are mates, but he was always in love with Mor and now seems smitten over Elain, so she's scared to tell him in case she gets rejected, and she doesn't want him to feel forced to be with her because of the bond, but he finally realises (maybe when reader is about to give up on him and go on a date with someone else or leave the night court) and they get their cutesy happy ending together 😊

Hi there! I absolutely am, thank you for the request! I’m a fluffy writer at heart so this is my first attempt at any kind of angst - I hope I do your request justice!

Inbox is always open for requests ❤️

Divider is from @tsunami-of-tears , you are an absolute genius! Thank you for making such beautiful dividers ❤️

Misunderstandings

An Reader x Azriel one shot

"AZ!"

You hear screeching laughter from the library of the House of Wind and you feel your heart crack, your stomach drop, and your head spin, knowing exactly who that laughter is coming from. The strawberry pastry in your hand drops to the floor as you pop your head around the door, careful not to be seen, and see Elain balancing precariously on Azriel's shoulder. Azriel, who is known for his reserved nature, his lack of comfort for physical touch, has Elain hoisted on his shoulders and is guiding her towards the bookshelves so she can reach the book she is looking for. Only, he keeps pretending to trip, or to drop her, or to forget she's there - making her scream and grasp onto his arms tightly. In other words, he is flirting with her.

You feel tears pricking in your eyes as you slowly back away and close the door quietly behind you, desperate to not hear the laughter any more.

When you had felt the bond snap with Azriel 75 years ago, your heart had soared. You had harboured a crush on the Shadowsinger since the first moment you met him and to know he was your Cauldron destined mate had been the best moment of your life. Only, the bond snapped one-sided, and Azriel had yet to realise. Sometimes you would tug on that little golden thread, other times you'd yank on it harshly, hoping for any sort of reaction from him, for him to realise who you were. But nothing.

Instead, you watched as Azriel pursued an unrequited crush on Mor for centuries. She had no idea that you were mates, the only person that knew was Rhysand - and likely Feyre by extension. She didn't know how much it hurt to watch Azriel follow her around, his eyes full of metaphorical hearts. You saw the pitying looks from Rhysand every night at Ritas when Azriel would make a sly attempt at garnering Mor's attention, his back turned to you.

You and Azriel had always been close, he was easily the best friend that you had ever had. You could fall into comfortable silences with each other, neither of you particularly extroverted people, especially not by comparison to the rest of your family. But there was always a very clear line in your friendship and it was never once crossed. You'd hug, if the situation warranted it, you'd sit next to each other at meals and on the sofa, he'd help you if you asked; but you knew he didn't see you the same way that he saw Mor.

And now, Elain.

You had caught the pair of them in the kitchen just last week, laughing and covered in flour as he watched Elain bake. You saw them sat shoulder to shoulder in Azriel's study late at night, giggling over who knows what. Azriel had never looked this happy before.

You didn't realise you were crying outside the library door until you felt a hand on your shoulder and the sensation of winnowing around you. When you looked up, you were in Rhysand's office and clasped to his chest.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I told him to stay away from her, on account of her being a mated female, I thought he'd listen".

You could do nothing but cry harder. His feelings for Elain surpassed even an order from Rhysand - and Azriel never defied Rhysand. You heard the door open but didn't look up, too busy soaking Rhysand's shirt in tears. You felt someone pull you towards them and your body was engulfed in another, large male. You would know Cassian's scent from anywhere.

"He's a fool, y/n", Cassian whispered into your hair. You looked up at him, and then glared at Rhysand.

"I didn't tell him!", Rhysand said, holding up his hands in innocence.

"He didn't have to tell me, y/n. I figured it out a long time ago - for a Spymaster, I'm amazed he's so damn clueless".

You only cried harder, your head on Cassian's chest, mindful of his siphon. He held you whilst you wept, slowly guiding you both to the sofa in Rhysand's office.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Rhys".

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch him fall in love with every female that isn't me".

Both Rhysand and Cassian looked at each other, concern marring their faces.

"What are you saying, y/n?".

"I need to leave, Rhys".

You didn't know how long you intended to leave the Night Court for. Rhysand had spoken with Tarquin and had agreed that you would go to the Summer Court. You would find a home and work there, and Tarquin would allow you to stay for as long as you wanted - forever, if that was your decision. He had even lifted the ban on Cassian, allowing him to visit, but only if supervised by you at all times. You had formally resigned from your role as Night Court emissary and began packing your bags.

Mor and Feyre, teary-eyed, sat on your bed watching you pack - Mor secretly pulling out clothes from your suitcase so you'd have to re-fold them and stay longer.

"Mor".

"Please don't leave us, y/n. Azriel is an idiot, he's not worth leaving over".

You had told them about your mating bond with Azriel. Nesta and Amren also knew. But you'd been careful not to tell Azriel or Elain. You didn't want Azriel to leave Elain just to be with you because of the mating bond - you wanted him to be with you because he loved you. But he didn't. He loved her.

"I have to, Mor. It's time I get some space and find my own feet again. All these years have been taken up by Azriel and waiting for him - I deserve more than that".

She sighed, her head hanging in resignation. She knew you were right.

As you put the last of your clothes in the suitcase, you moved it to the door where your boxes waited to be transported to the Summer Court. You heard a knock, expecting Rhysand, but opened the door to a grinning Elain.

"Hi y/n! I was just wondering if you wanted to go..."

Elain looked from you to the suitcase, to the boxes, to Mor and Feyre's tear-stained faces, and then back to you.

"What's going on?".

"I'm going away for a little bit - just to the Summer Court. But you can visit, and I'm sure I'll visit here again".

Elain's lip wobbled.

"For how long?".

Feyre couldn't hold back her sob and at that moment, Elain realised you might be leaving forever.

"Why?".

You wanted to tell her the truth, but her sweet face made it hard to be angry at her. She didn't choose this. She didn't know that Azriel was your mate. She is just a young female thrown into a new world and making the best of it.

"Just need a change of scenery", you reply, forcing a smile on your face. You watch as Elain's face changed from heartbroken to panic-stricken, and she ran from the room.

"I think maybe that was one change too many for her", Mor sighs.

"I'll go after her", Feyre says, standing from the bed. She pulls you in for one last, long hug and flies from the room, hiding the new batch of tears streaming down her face. You see Rhysand standing in the doorway, his hand outstretched to you.

"Ready?".

You nod, taking his hand in yours and feeling his powers fill the room as he winnows you to Adriata, the Summer Court, your new home. You felt a lightness take hold of your body that had been missing for the last 75 years. A sense of calm and peace. Your heart was broken, but it could heal, you could find yourself again and feel happiness and joy at the small things in life, things you sorely missed.

But, if you'd have tugged on that golden thread one last time, you'd have felt Azriel's answering pull back.

Elain thundered through the House of Wind and up the stairs to the training ring on the roof. She burst the door open to see Azriel lighting the last of the candles that surrounded the picnic blanket, rose petals littered the floor, and a strawberry pastry sat on a plate in the middle. Azriel knew they were your favourite, and knew it had to be the food he offered you for the mating bond.

"AZ, SHE'S GONE".

Azriel whipped his head to the door to see a dishevelled Elain standing there, red in the face and out of breath.

"Gone where?"

"The Summer Court, she's left the Night Court, Az".

Azriel felt his heart sink. He had only felt the bond snap a few weeks ago and had been planning this night ever since. Elain, his new friend and confidant, had been helping him. She had helped Azriel find and read your favourite romance novels in the library to know what you liked from a partner, she had helped Azriel learn how to bake your favourite pastry so it would be perfect for you when you accepted the mating bond, she had taught him calligraphy so he could write you the love notes he knew you swooned over, the pair of them giggling at Azriel's attempts to be a hopeless romantic, and failing terribly.

He never imagined that you would leave before he could tell you how much he loved you. That you would leave without even saying goodbye.

His head reeled as he stumbled backwards. Without a second thought, he took to the sky, wings beating harder than they ever had before, towards the Summer Court.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Tarquin". You were in awe of the home he had provided for you in Adriata. A beachfront, two-story home decorated to the nines in shells and pearls. It was glorious.

"It is my pleasure, y/n. Please, do enjoy everything that my Court has to offer. This particular beach gives a beautiful view of the sunset".

With that, Tarquin departed - allowing you time to process your move and absorb your new surroundings. You walked down to the ocean, your beautiful new sundress blowing gently in the breeze, and felt the water flow up to your mid-calves. It was pleasantly warm, heated by a day of sunshine, as you watched dusk start to coat the horizon.

That was, until something crash landed in the ocean in front of you.

Before you were able to turn back and run, you noticed a black membrane bob up out of the water, followed by a blazing blue siphon. You heart stuttered as you watched Azriel swim as fast as he could to you.

"Y/n", he breathed, his hair matted to his face with sweat and salt water. In his hand, you noticed a soggy, crumbled, almost entirely disintegrated strawberry pastry. Gaping, you watched Azriel offer the pile of mush to you.

"Az?"

"I.... love.... you", he heaved, trying to catch his breath.

But you were pretty sure you stopped breathing altogether. You heard more noises behind you, and turned to see your entire Night Court family there, having been winnowed in by Rhys, Feyre and Mor.

"What is going on?".

Rhys stepped forward and offered you his hand.

"Let me show you". So you did.

Once joined, Rhys entered your mind and showed you memories from Elain and Azriel's minds. You saw the moment the bond snapped for Azriel, the grin that had taken over his face when he realised, the sheer excitement she had felt at knowing two of her friends were mated. You saw the conversation between them - Azriel asking her to teach him how to make your favourite strawberry pastry. You saw, from their eyes, what they were giggling about at Azriel's desk - the poorly written love notes, all addressed to you. You saw the book Elain was reaching for in the library from Azriel's shoulders - your favourite romance - and how they studied your tabs and highlighting like their life depended on it. You saw the picnic. You saw Azriel's heartbroken face when Elain told him that you had left.

As Rhys withdrew, you realised that you were crying. When you looked up, you realised you weren't the only one, your entire family was in tears - Cassian near blubbering into Nesta's hair.

Azriel loved you.

You turned to face him, still completely sodden and holding out the mush to you. You took it, grimacing slightly, and shoved the entire pile of it into your mouth.

"I love you too".

Azriel flew at you, grabbed you into his arms and kissed you like he would never get another chance. You dropped your shield and felt the bond overflowing with love, Azriel pushing all of his emotions to you, almost knocking the breath out of you once more.

"Come home?", he asked quietly.

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again. Then paused.

"But, maybe in a couple of weeks?". Azriel looked at you with confusion, before his eyes suddenly darkened, a feral look overtaking his face.

"Aaaaannnddd, that's our cue to go", Cassian laughed, your family all grappling at each other to get out of there quickly, not wanting a front row seat to your show.

You paid no attention as you let Azriel lift you into his arms and carry you towards the beachfront house. You simply smiled, feeling comfort in the fact that, maybe, everything really was going to be ok.

[pupyuj]

[cw: g!p liz, pregnancy, breeding kink, lactation kink]

i wasn’t meant to write anything for this bcs i was literally just sitting eating breakfast this morning when the thought of baby daddy jiwon graced my brain and i laughed at it for a second but then it got serious so now ya’ll have to indulge me bcs??? 🤤🤤 also not me saying that that one baby daddy yuj was the only time i’ll write abt pregnancy and yet here we are…

kinda long bcs i rlly loved the fluffy stuff so hehe have fun 💖

we’re all thinking about the same thing, right? your chaotic mess of a girlfriend jiwon feeling as if her whole world was turned upside down when you sit her down and give her the news in the morning where the two of you were supposed to go on a cute picnic date 😭 you can’t tell me she wouldn’t sit there for at least half an hour taking everything in, merely just staring at the wall with her mouth hanging open for so long you thought it would get stuck that way 😭😭 and ykw you were worried for a bit!! the two of you certainly didn’t plan on this happening and this was the clear result of both of you forgetting to use protection that one night where you were just eager to feel the other’s skin,, you half expected jiwon to be angry and lash out at you but no! ofc weird ass jiwon takes a deep breath before pulling you up to your feet and hugging you 🥺

she figured that the news was even harder on you since you were the one carrying the kid,, and being the amazing girlfriend she was, she prioritized your feelings over her own,, comforting you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when you broke down in her arms not bcs you were upset abt being pregnant or anything but bcs you were just relieved that jiwon wasn’t going to abandon you 🥺🥺 and you’d still go on that picnic date with her! it would be awkward at first but best believe she’s promising to be there for you and with you every step of the way whether or not you decide to keep the baby 🥹💞

i believe in the ‘jiwon would be a wonderful soon-to-be-daddy’ agenda! due to her genuine fear of fucking shit up, she’d probably read countless parenting books 😭😭 sure she knew how to take care of a little kid or two but not a baby! let alone one that she made! she’s reading books, getting ahead of the game and researching and possibly buying all the stuff your kid needs, asking her parents for advice… jiwonie just wants to be the perfect partner and parent 🥺💕 you’d find her in the kitchen one day practicing how to make milk—as in making sure it’s the correct temperature and that it tastes good.. don’t ask her how many times she has actually finished a whole tiny bottle of baby milk 😭😭

and now to the nasty parts! ☺️ if i remember correctly i said this same thing about baby daddy yuj (🤤… sorry—) but jiwonie would sometimes find herself staring at you and thinking back to the night she got you knocked up! it would be worse with her though—unlike yujin’s massive ego showoff, she’s more… dreamy about it? 😭 like she’s really basking in every detail of that night from the stumbling-into-your-bedroom shit while giggling, practically ripping each other’s clothes off while making out, jiwon surprising you with her hidden strength when she suddenly just pushes you into the bed and quite literally gives you the best fucking of your life?? all that of that along with seeing that growing bump in your stomach and your now swollen tits heavy with milk, well… nobody can blame jiwon from getting hard on the spot!

also becomes a clingy perv 🤤🤤 obsessed with backhugging you randomly and kissing your neck bcs it makes you giggle bcs ur ticklish and she loves hearing you laugh BUT ALSO you whimper and get goosebumps all over your skin so it just… turns her on so much 🫣 loves caressing your little baby bump while she half listens to you yap about your day and half touches you all over 😳 you don’t notice what she’s doing until one of her hands is squeezing your inner thigh and the other is making its way up to your breasts,, “our kid’s very lucky.. they have the prettiest mom in the whole world.” and she’s leaving marks all over your neck and shoulder while she feels up your soaked panties… 🫣🫣

jiwon’s a love-maker so expect to be gently fucked while standing by the sink! has definitely memorized each and every spot that has you scratching her arms and curling your toes so you were just completely at her mercy the entire time! the contrast of jiwon telling you the sweetest and prettiest things in your ear while she softly fucks you into an orgasm that has you seeing white?? see, she’s all hot and sexy while fucking you but then you turn around after getting situated and you see a wet spot in the middle of her pants.. even she would laugh and cover up her red face 😭 but she can’t help it okay?! it’s totally normal for someone to cum while fucking their partner.. jiwon just happened to be so stinking cute while doing so that you can’t help but take her to bed afterwards 🤭

now as we’ve established before, jiwon’s always taking care of you and that pretty much tripled every time you wanted to do something ‘drastic’ in terms of sex!☝️ jiwon is always careful when in bed with you, only choosing positions that were safe and comfortable for you even if they weren’t for her! even if you have her rolling her eyes to the back of her head while you ride her, jiwon’s still looking out for you! whether it may be asking if you’re okay, if anything hurts, or just singing your praises to ease you 🥺🥺

jiwon’s so weak against dirty talk too?? 😭 especially when you tell her you want to make a big family with her bcs she knows that means you want her to get you pregnant over and over and yk what that does to her brain?? it almost literally shuts it down bcs she gets sooo turned on at the idea 😵‍💫 sometimes she even thinks about it when she’s cleaning up the house or at work and has to run to the bathroom bcs her fucking cock just wants to burst out of her pants 😭 baby can’t control it, she always needs you :((

ah yeah and the moment your tits start leaking?? it’s so over bcs you’d think that jiwon wouldn’t get even more obsessed with you than she already is but you’re so wrong‼️‼️ teases you and calls you ‘mommy’ a lot while licking and sucking away at your breasts.. and eye contact is a must bcs she loves the flush on your cheeks as you watched her lap all of your milk up! 🫣 and she definitely makes a joke abt being the one to drink your breastmilk if your kid ever gets tired of it but the two of you know damn well it’s not just a joke 🤭 jiwon also loves massaging your breasts to ease the tension in your shoulders and god her dick just gets so fucking hard when she feels her hands get wet w your milk 😵‍💫

in all of your years dating jiwon you never could have guessed that there was a gentlewoman in her! definitely the perfect balance of being a good mommy and a very charming daddy 🥺🥺 speaking of which, her knees turn into jelly whenever you ‘jokingly’ call her ‘daddy’ in and out of bed 🫣 she’s the cutest baby daddy ever 💕

[werecreature-addicted]

Could you write a little more about the farmer and the minotaur? 🥺

one two three four I will make a Sam master list soon so I can link that and not the individual parts every time.

"you could kiss me if you wanted to." those words hang thick in the air, sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

"What?" Sam asks his voice choked, it's all he can manage. He must have heard you wrong.

"I said, that if you wanted to, I'd let you kiss me," you repeat, calm as ever. you squeeze his big hands before letting go entirely, "We've been dancing around each other for a while and I just think it's fair to let you know where I stand, I like you and I think you like me too, we can keep things professional we can stay friends but if you want more, that's on the table too."

He wonders for how long you've had this little speech prepared, how long have you known that he liked you? and for how long have those feelings been returned. You're staring at him, and he blinks and realizes you're waiting for him to respond, or god- kiss you.

"I want to," he admits, before bowing his head, avoiding your gaze "but I don't think I can it doesn't feel...safe," he glances up quickly at your face and feels his blood chill, one look and he can tell he said the wrong thing. you look hurt, before quickly trying to mask the emotion and put on a neutral expression.

"fuck- no not you you feel safe you are so good and kind to me you," he tries to explain. "Just- like relationships, love-" he cringes, it's too soon to say love but he's already said it no matter how much he wanted to take it back. "that part doesn't feel safe," he mumbles pressing his face into his hands.

"I don't know how to do this," Sam admits. "I do care about you which makes me want what's best for you and I'm not what's best for you." If he didn't love you so much it would be easier to have a relationship with you, but you deserve so much better than what he can give you. At best he's an anti-social mess with a hair-trigger temper, at worse- Sam shudders and pulls away from the thought of the worst possible outcome.

"I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions when it comes to who I date, and besides that, you're not a bad person," you state firmly.

"I've done bad things," he says gravely,

"against your will, that's not your fault," you whisper softly, you touch him softly, pulling down one of his hands from his face and holding it in both of yours. "I still want you, past and all Sam," you say softly.

Sam looks at you and almost bursts out laughing, you look so determined and firey, it's a serious expression that becomes cute on you. you're cute when you're this serious. and he remembers your previous words, he has your permission to kiss you whenever he wants it seems.

"Just go slow with me? I don't think I'll be any good at this," he says, shifting his hand to move up and cup your cheek, your skin is soft and warm against his callus palm.

"I can put up with that," you breathe softly before he kisses you softly.

[slu7formen]

Girl first of all I want to say that I'm OBSESSED with your writing I love it.

Second of all I would like to make a request about Luke so hear me out.

Luke and reader were in a relationship before he betrayed camp and they were head over heals for each other and then he stole the bolt and when Percy discovers he's the thief the reader is there feeling betrayed and specially heartbroken even though Luke ask her to go with him but she doesn't accept it because she's so loyal to camp and her friends.

Time passed and even if she wants to hate Luke she loves him more than anything. And Luke loves her too so instead of asking Annabeth to escape with him he asks reader and she accepts.

I want to see everything in here fluff, angst, everything you think about.

I hope you like this request and make it real for me because I've been having this idea for over a week.

Okay but I feel so bad ‘cause I totally forgot I had this story FULLY WRITTEN and READY to be published (‘cause I LOVED it), I’m so sorry angel, made you wait a lot more than just a week 🥺, but thanks for reading my stories <3

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: luke´s a traitor, betrayal, use of yn, swearing, kinda angst (?, KISSING, lil book spoiler

₊˚⊹♡

The crackle and pop of the bonfire filled the air, a comforting contrast to the vibrant bursts of color exploding overhead. The annual fireworks display was in full swing, casting shadows on the faces of your friends huddled around the warm flames. It was a picture of peace, a moment of respite amidst the constant threat of monsters demigod drama.

You stole a glance at the empty space beside you. Luke, your boyfriend, had told you he'd just be back in a minute. A few minutes had turned into an eternity, but you chalked it up to his usual impulsiveness. He'd be back any minute, with his signature smile and an arm wrapped around you.

You knew it.

From the moment you met, you and Luke had been inseparable. You were his confidante, his anchor in the chaos of being a demigod and his messy life. He was your rock, always there to make you laugh, to understand the weight of your heritage in a way no one else could.

The warmth of the fire danced on your skin, but a shiver snaked down your spine. Something felt off. The chatter of your friends seemed muted, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You couldn’t deny the way you noticed how Luke has been acting lately. So weird and distant towards you the last couple days. You loved him, fiercely and unconditionally. You'd been there for him through thick and thin, especially after his quest left a jagged scar across his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes.

But then he suddenly just, snapped.

A memory surfaced in you , sharp and unwelcome. It had been months ago, a conversation in the darkness of his cabin in a particular cold night. Luke, his eyes filled with a desperate fervor, had confessed his anger towards the gods, his belief that they were cruel and neglectful parents. He'd spoken of tricking the Olympians, joining forces with the Titans to fight for a better life for all demigods.

The anger in his voice, the glint of rebellion in his eyes, had scared you. The scar on his face, a reminder of his failed quest, seemed to burn brighter that night.

You understood his anger. The gods were far from perfect, their neglect and cruelty evident in countless demigod lives. He'd begged you to join him, his voice filled with a desperate hope. But you'd refused, your loyalty to Camp Half-Blood and your friends unwavering. You had spent hours talking him through it as you held his hand, reminding him of all the good the gods had done, no matter how flawed they might be. He'd looked lost at the time, seeking comfort in your touch. You'd thought you'd reached him, extinguished that spark of rebellion.

You really believed that conversation was long forgotten. But there was a reason why you remembered it.

Some movement at the edge of the woods caught your eye. But it wasn't the boy you were expecting. Percy, his face pale and etched with worry, practically stumbled into the fireplace, his chest heaving and his grip tight on Riptide.

A pang of concern shot through you. "Percy?" you called out, concern lacing your voice. You pushed yourself off the ground, walking towards him. "What happened? Where's Luke?"

Percy hesitated, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. Shit, should he tell you? His silence was a hammer blow to your gut. You knew, with a chilling certainty, that something was terribly wrong.

"What?" you choked out, the question barely a whisper, expecting some kind of answer from the blonde boy, but nothing came from his trembling lips. The air felt dense, with a truth you desperately wanted to deny. You saw Luke getting into the woods with Percy, you saw it. And now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Then, it clicked. A cold, horrifying truth began to dawn on you.

He lied.

Without a word, you pushed Percy aside and started running, towards the woods. Your heart hammered against your ribs, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You plunged into the darkness of the forest, the path you'd walked countless times with Luke now leading you into the unknown.

"Luke!" you screamed, your voice raw with anger and despair. You wove through the trees, the undergrowth tearing at your camp shirt, but you didn't care. You had to find him, to confront him, to understand why he'd chosen this path, if he chose it, why he'd lied to you.

But with each passing minute, hope crashed over you. The forest grew denser, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the frantic beat of your own heart. There was no sign of Luke, no echo of his footsteps, no smell, no sense of his presence, only the chilling truth hanging heavy in the air.

He was gone.

He had left.

You sank to your knees, the weight of betrayal crushing you as the first tears you ever cried for Luke Castellan, started to fall. The man you loved, the person you'd trusted with your life, had chosen darkness over everything you held dear. He had chosen Kronos over you.

Grief, a cold and relentless serpent, coiled around your heart. And that feeling never seemed to leave.

The year that followed was a blur of sadness and a desperate attempt at normalcy. The silence from Luke was deafening. Not a single Iris-message, not a single sign of the one who once, was your boyfriend.

You knew you wouldn´t be able to return to Camp, at least not for now. Every corner held a ghost of Luke's smile, every sword clang a reminder of his battles and his betrayal. Your friends, the true ones, bless their hearts, tried everything to cheer you up from a distance, but their efforts felt like trying to pick up the pieces of a broken glass in the sea.

You opted to stay home that summer. But even there, away from the prying eyes and hushed whispers, escape from Luke's betrayal seemed impossible. Messages and news found you no matter where you hid. News of Luke leading a rogue army aboard a stolen cruise ship, rumors of him serving as Kronos's right hand while the Titan slumbered – it all reached your ears.

The nights were the worst. The darkness mirrored the hollowness within you. Tears would stain your pillow as you relived the events leading up to his betrayal. You once seemed to dream about seeing him again, and now you only screamed when you saw his face in your nightmares.

The memory of his touch, the warmth of his smile, the nights you spent loving each other with the sheets tangling in your legs, all felt like cruel illusions now. Yet, a part of you, a stubborn, illogical part, still clung to the love you once shared.

And Gods, did you try to keep yourself as busy as possible. You threw yourself into your studies and little courses here and there, seeking solace in facts and logic. You even began working, a boring but well payed summer job. Yet, the pain lingered, a dull ache that refused to subside.

The more you tried to banish these visions, the more vivid they became. You missed him like a starving man craved a feast, a yearning that gnawed at your insides and threatened to consume you. Frustration gnawed at you. How could you still love someone who'd betrayed you so utterly? How could your heart still ache for a man who chose war over you? The questions echoed endlessly within you, a relentless chorus fueling your self-conscious.

How could you be so weak?

These consuming questions were your companions for a whole year. But as the second summer after Luke's betrayal rolled around, a shift occurred within you. The raw, agonizing pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve.

Finally, you decided it was time to take back control again. Camp Half-Blood called, a familiar haven among the storm. You returned a changed person. The vibrant smile that once adorned your face was a ghost, replaced by a guarded expression that spoke about the pain you harbored in silence. The camp's familiar energy felt hollow, a constant reminder of the happiness you'd lost.

Training became your sole solace. You'd disappear into the arena for hours, your celestial bronze sword a blur as you cleaved through training dummies, each swing fueled by a potent cocktail of grief and anger.

Exhaustion became your closest companion too. You pushed yourself to the limits of your endurance, hoping to find oblivion at the bottom of an empty fuel tank. But sleep, when it finally came, offered no escape. You'd dream of him, leading his army of rogue demigods, his eyes filled with a fanatical zeal that chilled you to the bone. And in those dreams, you'd see yourself, standing beside him, not out of loyalty to his cause, but out of a desperate yearning for the boy you once loved, still love.

In the quiet moments, when your friends weren't around, the dam would break. You'd collapse onto your cool and empty bed, tears streaming down your face, a raw, primal sob escaping your lips. The memory of Luke was no joy anymore, it haunted you like a specter.

You hated yourself for the traitorous flicker in your heart, the desperate, illogical yearning for him. It wasn't the war that tempted you; it was him.

You hated how much you missed him.

The scent of rain clung to the humid night air and to you like a second skin as you zipped up your duffel bag. Another summer at Camp Half-Blood loomed, promising a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and pain, but more training. The worst was yet to come, so you needed to be ready.

New York City, with its cacophony of car horns and the anonymity of millions, had become your refuge these past few months. In Manhattan, the memories of Luke seemed to hold less power for some weird reason, their edges dulling with the passage of time. You'd spent the past months in this tiny apartment, the silence deafening compared to the constant hum of life at camp.

Just then, a sharp rap on the door shattered the silence of your apartment. It was past midnight, an unusual time for visitors.

Adrenaline surged through you. Months of living fully alone had honed your senses. You'd become acutely aware of the city's underbelly – the flickering shadows that could hide monsters thanks to the ever-present mist. You'd seen them stalking the streets, stalking you, their true forms hidden to them mortals, an unsettling feeling crawling up your spine whenever their paths crossed yours. They never attacked, but their chilling presence followed you like a phantom.

Grabbing your necklace, you asked, "Yes?"

Silence. You weren't taking any chances. Pulling down at the pendant once, the necklace morphed into your celestial bronze dagger.

You took a step, two. Could it really be a monster? Could it really be some creature trying to get to you, by knocking on the door? With a shaky breath, you cracked the door open just enough to peek through the gap, hiding the dagger behind your back.

The sight that greeted you stole the air from your lungs.

Standing on your doorstep, bathed in the harsh glow of the hallway light, was Luke. His dark hair was windswept, his face etched with a gauntness that hadn't been there before, but his eyes – those were the same eyes that had haunted your dreams for months. They held a desperate plea, a flicker of the boy you once loved struggling to break through the hardened shell of the man he'd become.

“Luke?”

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words and a tangled web of emotions. Time seemed to warp in that hallway, a single moment stretched into an eternity. Luke looked different, yes. The carefree boy you knew had been replaced by a man hardened by experience, his features etched with lines that spoke of battles fought and burdens carried. But his eyes, those brown eyes that had once held a mischievous twinkle, now held a deeper sadness that mirrored your own.

"Hi" Luke finally said, his voice raspy.

You stood speechless, the dagger still clutched tightly in your hand. Years of longing warred with the fresh wounds of betrayal. You wanted to scream at him, to unleash the torrent of hurt and anger that suddenly washed over you. But something held you back, a flicker of curiosity, maybe.

"Um, can I come in?" he continued, his posture pleading despite his attempt at nonchalance.

Jesus. Was that all he had to say? After everything, after what he did, all he could muster was a request to enter your apartment? A tide of anger threatened to drown you. Did he not understand the gravity of what he'd done? Did he not realize the pain he'd caused? But you forced your thoughts down. You weren't a child anymore, throwing tantrums wouldn't solve anything.

"Are you armed?" you asked, your voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

Luke flinched at your question, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "You think I wanna hurt you?" he countered, his tone defensive.

"Last time I saw you," you spat back, your voice laced with bitterness, "was three years ago, and I know your little monsters are keeping an eye on me. The first thing I'm supposed to think about is whether you want to hurt me or not."

He sighed, a long, weary exhale. Unzipping his jacket, he turned slowly, patting down his pockets before turning back to you. His eyes, once alive with mischief and love, were now filled with a desperate sincerity. "See? No weapons. Just me."

You studied him, a battle raging within you. One part of you wanted to slam the door, to let him know that he wasn't welcome. Yet, another part, a smaller, more vulnerable part, couldn't help but cling to the flicker of hope that flickered amongst the ashes of your love.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you stepped aside, allowing a sliver of space for him to enter. "Fine" you said, your voice devoid of warmth. "But you better have a good reason to come here"

Luke hesitated for a beat before stepping inside. He closed the door softly behind him, the sound echoing through the tense silence. He stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the room, landing finally on the packed bags besides the tv.

"You're heading back to camp?" he asked.

You flipped the dagger in your hand, and the celestial bronze morphed back into the golden necklace. "What do you want?" you repeated, your voice still sharp, a shield against the emotions swirling within you.

Luke stood awkwardly in the doorway, the once carefree boy replaced by a man burdened by the weight of his choices. His leather jacket seemed to hang heavy on his broad shoulders.

"I…" he started, then stopped, seemingly unsure how to proceed. He cleared his throat, the sound scratchy and unfamiliar. "You look different" he finally managed, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You scoffed, a humorless sound that surprised even you.

"Look, yn" he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wanna talk, okay? I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "You could say that again."

His fingers twitched at your bitterness, but pressed on. "I came here because..." He hesitated again, seemingly wrestling with an inner turmoil. "Because I-"

Frustration bubbled up within you. This cryptic approach, this lack of honesty, it was infuriating. "Because you what, Luke?" you demanded, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Because you decided to grace me with your presence after leading a rebellion against the gods? Or maybe because you just wanted to see if I'm still waiting for you?"

You watched his face harden, the vulnerability replaced by a familiar defiance.

"Don't twist this" he snapped, his voice firm. "I came here because..." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "Because I miss you, yn. I miss us."

The air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it.

You took a slow step towards him, then another. He took notes of yourself as you did. The way you had grown internally was so intense that he could sense it everywhere. He might have betrayed you, but that only helped you get on your feet stronger, grow stronger. Become the warrior he always knew you were.

Then, in a move as instinctive as it was fierce, your hand lashed out. The slap connected with a stinging crack, the sound echoing through the apartment like a thunderclap. Luke's head snapped to the side, a crimson handprint blooming on his cheek. Shame flickered in his eyes as he scoffed, quickly replaced by a dull acceptance.

He deserved it, that much was clear.

"How dare you?” you spat, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury, "How fucking dare you come back here after what you've done? After leading a rebellion against the gods, after putting everyone we care about at risk? After betraying me?"

Luke took a shaky breath, running a hand over the burning mark on his face. "I'm sorry” he said, his voice low and ragged. "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know a simple apology won't erase the pain or fix things. But you have to believe me, I never meant for things to get this bad"

He stepped towards you, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture, but you flinched back, the space between you a tangible barrier. "Don't touch me" you warned, your voice laced with ice.

He lowered his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I know you hate me for what I´ve done. For joining Kronos, I-“

"You think this is all about Kronos?" you cut him off, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. "You think the reason my heart has been broken these past years is because you joined a fucking Titan?"

Luke remained silent, the weight of your words pressing down on him like a collapsing mountain. He knew better.

"This is about what you did to me, Luke" you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. "I was with you, all the time. I was your girlfriend! And you betrayed me. You left me alone” your voice broke so hard that you had to take a second to swallow the big gulp that was forming in your throat. “Everyone at camp looked at me after what you did," you choked out. "They either felt sorry for me, or they insulted me, saying that I was still loyal to you, that I was a traitor."

You closed your eyes for a moment, the pain etched on your face a stark reminder of the devastation he'd wrought. "You were the most important person in my life" you cried, your voice raw and vulnerable. "But you? You let Kronos fill your head with empty promises, and just like that, you forgot about us."

The truth felt like a bitter pill to swallow. He opened his mouth to speak.

"I asked you to come with me" he finally whispered, his voice thick with regret. "I gave you the chance to leave with me."

"And even after I said no," you countered, your voice trembling like the finger that was now pointing at his chest, "you still left. You threw me away like shit. And do you know what the worst part is?" Tears streamed down your face, tracing a path through the dust of old heartache. "That as much as I try, I can't seem to hate you."

A sob escaped your lips, shattering the fragile dam you'd built around your emotions. "I still love you, Luke" you confessed. "Even though it's a love that fills me with pain, it's still there. I hate myself because I dream about you, about the way things used to be. But when I don't, I feel like a piece of me is missing."

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears and a raw vulnerability that left Luke speechless.

What had he done?

"I hate myself because I can't help but pray for your safety, even though you never seemed to care about mine. I hate myself because even after everything, I still love you, Luke."

Your heart felt like a shattered kaleidoscope, a million shards of love, anger, and pain reflecting back at you in a distorted reality. You walked and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs racked your body.

Luke, his heart heavy with a remorse sharper than any weapon, watched you crumble. The carefree girl he fell in love with was gone, replaced by a woman etched with the scars of his own actions. Hesitantly, he reached out, placing a hand on your back as he sat down next to you, a gesture of comfort that felt more like a branding iron on his guilt.

"yn” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I still love you too."

You didn't respond, the sobs coming in ragged gasps as your body struggled to contain the storm within.

"I know I left you" he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "And you didn't deserve it. But… I was so lost, so angry. Kronos promised me power, a solution to all the problems I saw. He convinced me that Olympus was corrupt, that the gods didn't care about half-bloods like us. And when you said no, he-, he told me to leave you behind, said that it would be easier for everyone…"

His voice trailed off. Easier for who? Easier for him, perhaps, to sever the ties that bound him, to plunge headfirst into a rebellion fueled by manipulated ideals.

"But it wasn't" he choked out, a tear escaping his eye, carving a glistening path down his cheek. "Every day, every step I took… it was a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The guilt was eating me alive, yn, you have to believe me”. His hands desperately reached for yours, trying to get your fingers to intertwine by placing his over yours.

Tears welled up in his own eyes. "I regret everything. I mean it. I don't want to do this anymore."

You finally lifted your head, your eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. Luke looked different to you now, the bravado and arrogance gone, replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"Don't want to do what?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

"This” he gestured vaguely to himself, but you didn’t quite catch it. "Following Kronos. Helping him rise to power. It's wrong. I can see that now."

“Little late to that, isn’t it?” you blurted out.

He took a deep breath, his expression resolute. "yn, there's a reason I came to you. A reason I risked Kronos' trust in me." He paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kronos wants me to become his host."

And the world seemed to suddenly stop. You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Your mind raced, trying to process what he had just said. Luke, your Luke, becoming a vessel for the monstrous Titan?

"What?" you croaked, fear coating your voice like frost. Your eyes darted around, searching for a way out, a solution, anything. But Luke wouldn't meet your gaze, his jaw clenched tight, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. "No. No, he can't. It's not possible."

The thought of him, Luke, being consumed by Kronos, twisted your insides into knots.

Luke, however, seemed to gather his resolve. "Yes, it is" he said, his voice low and strained. "There are things you don't know, yn. Things I've done."

A cold dread gripped your stomach, a physical manifestation of the terror that clawed at your insides. Your mind raced, desperate for answers. "Then tell me" you only managed to say. "Luke, what have you done?"

He hesitated, looking around as if afraid someone might be listening. "There's no time now" he finally said, his voice tight with urgency. "But I promise I will explain everything. That's not why I'm here."

Taking a deep breath, he dared to reach out, his hand gently grasping yours, finally. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, a stark contrast to the chilling fear that gripped you.

He called your name, his voice softening. "Come with me" he said.

You only feel capable of frowning your brows in confusion. "Go where?" you asked, your voice wary.

"Anywhere" he said, like a plea. "Let's run away, together. It can be just you and me again"

He leaned closer, the air around him crackling with a tension that mirrored the storm within you. As his forehead rested against yours, a jolt of electricity shot through you. It was a familiar warmth, a spark that had ignited countless stolen kisses and whispered secrets back when your world wasn't teetering on the brink of war. His other hand cupped your cheek, the touch a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you. His hand, usually warm and comforting, felt cool against your burning skin, a physical reminder of the distance that had grown between you. Yet, despite the chill, a wave of longing washed over you, a yearning for the simple comfort of his touch.

But reason tugged at you, a voice of caution in the midst of the storm. "But Luke," you stammered, pulling away slightly, "If you escape, Kronos will come for you. He'll come for us, and-,"

"I don't care" he interrupted, his voice resolute, yet laced with a tremor that betrayed his bravado. It was as if he was on the precipice, teetering between defiance and the vulnerability of a man on the verge of breaking. "I'll fight everything that comes for us. And if the war happens... I'll fight. I'll fight for everyone, I’ll fight for you. I'm not losing you again, yn."

His words resonated deep within you, a desperate echo of the love you still harbored for him, a love you thought you'd buried beneath layers of anger and sadness. You saw the fear in his eyes, a fear that you sadly shared, but beneath it, a flicker of something else – a raw, desperate hope. And as you looked at him, a wave of relief washed over you.

The relief of knowing he wasn't entirely lost, that a part of the Luke you loved still existed.

"I love you" he confessed again, his voice trembling.

Looking into his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling within them, the truth resonated with you. "I love you too" you whispered, the words tumbling from your lips like a long-awaited confession.

The world did indeed, stop. The rain, a relentless symphony against the window pane, faded into a distant murmur. The thunders became a muffled echo. In that moment, the only reality was the space between you and Luke, charged with the unspoken electricity of your confessions.

He leaned in further, a hesitant question in his eyes. A flicker of fear danced in their depths, a scared boy seeking forgiveness beneath the warrior's facade. You watched him, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest.

With a sigh that trembled on your lips, you closed the distance. Your lips met in a hesitant touch, a tentative exploration of a forgotten familiarity. Three years of longing, of unspoken words and simmering emotions, poured into that kiss. It was sweeter than you'd dared to imagine, a warmth that spread from your lips and drizzled down your chest.

Unlike the passionate encounters of your past, this felt different; like kissing him for the first time. Luke's lips moved against yours with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. He held back, his desperate desire tempered with a respect that surprised you. You knew him.

But then, you yielded. Your lips parted, a silent invitation, and his tongue met yours in a dance as old as time. A full, heavy and angry thunderclap erupted outside, a jarring contrast to the intimacy unfolding on the couch. But you paid it no mind, lost in the whirlpool of rediscovered affection.

Your arms encircled his neck, a desperate hold. He, in turn, cupped your waist, his touch lingering on the curve of your hip as he gently lowered you onto the soft cushion. His body hovered above yours. His lips, however, remained glued to yours, a relentless exploration that spoke of a love both fierce and fragile.

The kiss deepened, a slow burn that threatened to consume you both. You felt the familiar rhythm of his heart against yours, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of your own. It was a melody of second chances, of unspoken apologies and nascent hope.

His hand trailed down your back, teasingly brushing under your shirt, sending shivers dancing across your skin. You arched into his touch, a wordless plea for more. But just then, he pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions.

His voice, a husky murmur against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. "I missed this so much," he whispered, his lips trailing down the delicate column of your neck and the dip of your collarbone. His warm breath mingled with your own, a heady mix of emotions swirling around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, the familiar texture a stark reminder of the past you both desperately clung to. He reached for your pulse, slowly sucking in before letting it pop.

"I wanted to feel you every night" he confessed. "Every night, I dreamt of you." His words were a stark contrast to the cold, distant Luke you saw in your dreams, the only vivid memory you’ve had of him the past years.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to speak.

He didn't stop. His hand drifted down your torso, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your lower tummy. Every touch felt like a brand, a searing reminder of what you had lost and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"It was a mistake" he said, his voice thick with regret. "A big, fucking mistake. Leaving you, betraying you-, it was the biggest mistake of my life. My life doesn't make any sense without you."

With a strangled sound, Luke deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own. You clung to him, a drowning sailor grasping at a lifeline. The scent of leather that clung to him was intoxicating, a familiar anchor in this storm of emotions.

"Luke" you managed to gasp between kisses, a flicker of reason breaking through the haze of desire. You needed more than just words, needed a binding promise, something concrete to hold onto if you were to take this leap of faith.

He stared at you, his eyes a storm of emotions – desire, confusion, and a flicker of something that might have been annoyance. But before he could respond, you pressed on.

"Swear on it, Luke" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Swear on the River Styx” you repeat. Luke’s eyes dart back and forth, from your lips, to your eyes, to filling up with confusion. “I’m not-,” you cut yourself off as you feel your eyes filling with tears again. You bit your tongue before speaking, “I’m not letting you hurt me like this again"

You knew it was selfish, a desperate attempt to safeguard your heart. But Luke was here, finally, after all this time. You craved the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence. The thought of letting him go again, of enduring another betrayal, was unbearable. Yet, a part of you, still scarred from the past, craved a guarantee, an oath sworn on the most powerful river in the Underworld. It was dangerous, yes, but did you care?

Did he care?

Luke's expression hardened. The River Styx, held a weight that couldn't be ignored. The river he already bathed himself in. It was a binding vow, a promise etched in the very fabric of existence.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of doubt, a hint of manipulation. But all he saw was the vulnerability, the fear – a vulnerability born from the scars he himself had inflicted.

"I swear on the River Styx" he said, his voice low and solemn, each word heavy with the weight of the oath. "I swear I won’t ever leave you. I swear I love you. I swear I'll fight for you, for us, with every breath in my lungs."