#i'm hoping to keep this streak going for a while yet

[solalunar-eclipse]

Sonic Boom - S3E11

Episode title: Having A Mecha Good Time

Summary: Sonic's testing out his mech, but is struggling to keep it charged up. Shadow has something that might help, but unfortunately, Eggman interferes (as always) and messes things up.

AO3 Link

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[Episode opens on Shadow in his cave. The camera follows him as he walks farther back, to the same shelves where he stored the grey sheep in episode five. The sheep is visible in the background as he searches the shelves and the stacks of boxes below them for something else.]

“Ugh, where is it…” he muttered, digging through the old cardboard boxes one by one. Many of them were filled with strange and mostly broken machinery, some more organized than others.

[Camera shows a few pieces of metal and crystal with odd carvings clattering to the floor as he looks.]

Suddenly, his fingers closed on a gleaming diamond-shaped crystal, etched with a variety of complex patterns. He studied it carefully for a moment, making sure that it emanated a clear blue light and nothing else. 

Once he was satisfied, he stowed the crystal in his quills. “Alright,” he sighed, “let’s just hope this is compatible…”

…

[The same intro sequence plays as last time, but Shadow is slightly less irritated. He still refuses to play along with the others, but is no longer outright angry.]

[Eggman’s villain reveal follows the usual green screen sequence…except it doesn’t malfunction, and the outline of his mech from Og Man Out appears behind him in red as well.]

[The intro then continues on, before ending with the title of this week’s episode.]

…

Shadow appeared at the entrance to Tails’s workshop, sliding open the door right as a laser beam shot above his head. He immediately dropped into a battle stance, prepared to fight—only to see that it was just Sonic messing around in his mech, like he’d been doing all day long.

“Hey Shadow!” the fox called, sitting at his computer station (which was currently protected by a reinforced blast shield). “You here to see how long it takes for the mech’s battery to wear down again?”

Sonic groaned. “It just died. It’s barely gonna last me one battle like this!”

Shadow glanced over at him. “That’s probably because you’re trying to power it with the energy from this workshop.”

“Yeah, and?” the hero asked. “We gave it some juice before and it worked just fine when Eggman made his mech—it’s only now that it won’t take right!”

Shadow began to walk over to Tails, rolling his eyes. “You forget, I had this thing for quite some time before you and your friends ‘discovered’ it, so I know more about how it works.” he said, complete with air quotes around the word ‘discovered’. “The only reason the mech functioned for as long as it did then is because it had leftover power from the symbiote chip in addition to your attempts to recharge it. Now that you’re trying to run its systems on solely ordinary electricity, it won’t last nearly as long. The amount of power required to keep it active is immense.”

Tails shrugged. “So I’ll jack up the power then. I have enough electricity stored to boost it.”

“You absolutely should not do that.” Shadow replied, shaking his head. “You’ll fry the circuitry in that thing. It’s designed to respond to energy from Chaos Shards and neural networks, not crude electricity.”

“And, uh, also don’t do that with me inside the mech, please?” Sonic added.

“So what do you think we should do then, oh all-knowing Ancient expert?” Tails shot back, smirking.

“Ooh, burn!” Sonic laughed.

Shadow resisted the urge to facepalm. “If you would listen to me, then you would know that I think you should use one of these.” With that, he reached into his quills and handed over the symbiote chip he’d found in his cave earlier.

Tails promptly shrieked and dropped it as though it had burned him.

The striped hedgehog snatched it out of the air, his eyes wide. “What was that for? These things aren’t weak, but they can still break, you know!”

Sonic winced. “Uh…the last one of those we found kinda turned me into an evil jerk.”

“Was it red?” Shadow asked. “Do you still have it?”

Tails smiled awkwardly. “It was red, but we don’t have it anymore. Amy…kinda smashed it with her hammer.”

“To be fair, from what I was told, I was being a full-on villain by the time the others got me outta there.” Sonic explained, leaping out of the mech.

Shadow frowned, confused. “There should have been a display that told you the status of the chip, though.”

“There wasn’t…but hang on, how do you know that much about it?” Sonic asked.

Shadow froze. “I found schematics for the mech in its control seat, but an animal stole them one night.” he said quickly, looking away.

Sonic snickered. “Forest: one, Shadow: zero.”

The other hedgehog let out a long sigh. “Ugh. Here, let me show you how this thing is supposed to work.” He stalked over to the mech and shoved the symbiote chip into its proper place, making the entire thing light up with cyan lines.

“There.” Shadow said, folding his arms triumphantly. “One perfectly safe mech, all ready to go.”

Sonic inched towards it cautiously. “And if I start being weird again, you’ll pull me out, right?”

“Of course.” Shadow replied, softening his voice slightly. “I promise.”

That seemed to be more than enough for the hero, as he jumped right in, powering the mech on. “Whoa!” he gasped, seeing the full display for the first time ever. It showed the time, date, current weather, and his exact longitude and latitude, as well as a tiny map. 

(While he didn’t notice this, the map was significantly incorrect, as it showed Seaside Island mostly covered by a giant city instead of sparsely populated…)

The machine scanned both of his friends, labeling Tails as “Age: appx. 11 yrs - Species: unknown - Threat: Minimal—High” and Shadow as “Age: appx. 17.5 years - Species: unknown - Threat: Moderate—High”.

Sonic glanced around a bit nervously. “Uh, guys, I think it just targeted both of you or something?”

Shadow stepped forward. “There should be some sort of switch you can press. It’s currently in attack mode, but I think you can switch it to a more defensive mode or even a pacifist setting.”

The hero fiddled around with the controls for a minute, making the mech cycle through colors rapidly by accident…which then gave him two problems to fix. (Even if he didn’t really think that second one qualified as a “problem” but instead “really cool”.) Thankfully, he eventually managed to solve both of them with some guidance from his friends, leaving the mech in a more relaxed position.

“Hey, this says ‘full motion test’.” Sonic said, getting more and more excited now that he was assured the mech was safe and under his control. “I wonder what happens if I—”

“Wait, maybe you shouldn’t—” Shadow began, but it was already too late. The mech had begun to run its full range of motion, including windmilling its arms, balancing on one foot, both at once, and (for whatever reason) doing the Macarena, complete with music.

By the end, Sonic and Tails were both crying with laughter, while Shadow was sitting down with his face buried in his hands. 

“C’mon, Shads, wasn’t it funny?” Sonic asked teasingly.

“The…only other thing that I managed to make out on those schematics was that this was intended for serious fighting.” Shadow explained, still looking like he was fighting the urge to cringe. “You just made a deadly machine do the Macarena.”

“Well, technically, whoever programmed it made it do the Macarena…” Tails said, fighting off giggles.

Shadow shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Fine.” he said, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Just try not to blow anything up.”

…

Soon enough, the rest of the team appeared to check out this second attempt at using the mech, though some were more skeptical than others. Knuckles jumped right in, challenging Sonic to a no-holds-barred wrestling match (that the former was somehow currently winning).

Amy, on the other hand, had multiple questions for Shadow. “How do you know it’s safe?” she asked him.

“I read the schematics I found with it, but they eventually went missing.” he explained.

“He said an animal stole them!” Tails called from his position as both referee and commentator, making Amy laugh and Shadow huff.

“It was probably working for the government.” Sticks whispered.

“No, but really, how do you know it’s safe?” Amy insisted.

“You see how the chip is glowing blue?” Shadow pointed out. “If you see any red—or even a hint of purple—that means it’s broken or corrupted. If that happens, you should absolutely rip it out and break it as soon as possible.”

Amy nodded. “That’s good enough for now. The other question I have is: why did you think it would be a good idea to give Sonic more weapons?”

Shadow blinked. “Oh. Good point.”

“So what you’re saying is, you didn’t think.” Amy said, smirking.

“Shut. Up.” he grumbled unhappily.

“I still think it’s part of a plan by the robots to trick us into thinking they’re our friends.” Sticks explained. “And just when our society begins to rely on them…boom! They’ll turn us all into robots too!”

Shadow’s expression flattened abruptly at that.

“Sticks, I’m feeling fine.” Sonic called, having just lost the match. “This new chip is actually really great!”

“Sure, you’re feeling fine now…but you might not forever.” Sticks said ominously.

Sonic shrugged, making the mech’s shoulders move up and down as well. “I trust Shadow.”

The hedgehog in question looked away quickly, his arms tightly folded against his chest. “Well.” he said, his voice strained and small. “You trust plenty of people. Too many, in my opinion.”

“Yeah, but you’re my friend. That’s different.” Sonic insisted.

Unseen, Shadow smiled quietly as the hero turned back to round three of his fighting match. 

…

As Sonic continued to stomp around the workshop area excitably, two robots watched from the bushes outside. They were supposed to be sneaking around, but considering that they were, well, Orbot and Cubot, that wasn’t going so well.

“Hey, what’s he doing now?” Cubot asked loudly.

“Shh! Keep your voice down!” Orbot hissed, dragging him back down. “We are supposed to be spying on Sonic!”

“Can we go home yet?” the yellow robot whined. “These bushes are making me itchy.”

“How does that even—oh, never mind.” Orbot sighed. “I think we’ve learned enough now, let’s go home.”

…

“Oh ho ho, so that’s what Sonic’s been up to!” Eggman chuckled. “Well, two can play at that game.”

“I heard them talking about something…they called it a ‘symbiote chip’?” Orbot added nervously.

“No, I heard them say ‘antidote dip’.” Cubot interjected.

“I see…a symbiote chip, hm?” The doctor stroked his mustache thoughtfully, completely ignoring Cubot in the process. “Well, there’s no technology I can’t surpass with enough time—so I suppose I should start working!”

[A montage ensues, alternating between images of Eggman working hard in his lab and the team (now including Shadow) messing around with the mech. Eggman does a variety of tasks involving complex equipment…including downloading some pieces of software designed to emulate Ancient technology into a custom-built disk.]

[Meanwhile, Sonic is delighted to discover that he can now pick up all of his friends with ease, and they use this new ability to take a variety of funny pictures. Shadow is a little hesitant at first, but as time goes on he seems to accept this silliness and even begins to enjoy it.]

[The montage ends with Eggman inserting a disk with pieces of glowing red machinery into his mech, complete with ominous music in the background.]

…

Sonic and his friends were careful not to take the machine anywhere near the village, considering how much damage it had caused last time. He did, however, give each of them a chance to ride in it as well, though Sticks and Shadow both ended up turning it down. 

Knuckles was currently doing his best to lift the mech and carry it around, while Sonic and Sticks cheered him on and the three others all flinched every time his hands slipped. 

“Why are we messing around with this again?” Amy asked, sick of wincing so often.

“Hey, you were ready to hop in the driver’s seat when I offered!” Sonic said.

She sighed. “That’s different. It’s meant to be driven, not to be used for weightlifting!”

Knuckles peered out from behind the machine. “Anything can be used for weightlifting if you try hard enough!”

Shadow, Amy and Tails all gave him flat looks at that.

Suddenly, however, a loud explosion pulled them out of their argument. The ground shook beneath the team (and Knuckles just barely managed to set the mech down before crashing into it) as they tried to get their bearings.

“What’s going on?!” Tails cried.

“It’s the robots! They’re invading!” Sticks shrieked.

A loud, booming laugh echoed throughout the forest. It sounded a lot like Eggman, but also…different. Eggman’s usual laugh straddled a careful line between menace and delight, and gave the impression that he most certainly had not practiced it for hours in the mirror during his early days of villainy.

This laugh, on the other hand, sounded downright deadly.

Seconds later, a giant mech burst through the trees, glowing a bright, terrifying red. Sonic paled considerably. “Oh, no…” he whispered.

Shadow froze. “Another corrupted crystal? How many of these are there?”

Tails held up his Miles Electric, blanching at the readings it showed. “This says it’s not a crystal…it’s a piece of his own tech that he’s downloaded Ancient code on!”

“Is that worse or better?” Knuckles asked.

“Worse.” Shadow and Tails said simultaneously.

And that was when the mech’s fist came crashing down.

The entire team scattered. Sonic scrambled for his own machine, while everyone else began to throw everything they had at Eggman. The doctor growled, a red glow emanating from behind his glasses.

Furious, he swatted Knuckles and Tails aside, the echidna just barely managing to shield his friend with his own body before they hit the ground. Sticks and Shadow at least managed to land a couple of hits with boomerangs and Chaos Spears before suffering the same fate.

Screaming, Amy charged the mech, leaping from branch to branch until she gained enough height to whack its cockpit, sending Eggman stumbling backwards. Fortunately for her (as she fell back to solid ground), it was practically a rule in this universe that nobody ever takes fall damage.

By now, Sonic had gotten his machine up and running, immediately firing twin lasers at his opponent. They fought back and forth for a few tense moments, nearly blasting Sonic’s friends once or twice, even after they’d scrambled for cover.

“Come on, Eggman!” Sonic cried. “You’re smarter than this thing, you can fight it!”

Sadly, Eggman did not, as a matter of fact, fight it. Instead, he quite predictably continued fighting Sonic, using enough weaponry to destroy the village at least twice over in his single-minded pursuit of his greatest nemesis.

Thankfully, the hero’s machine soon began to predict the doctor’s moves well enough that it could provide Sonic with actual advice on how to fight him in this state. With that, he managed to get in a calculated blast that sent the doctor toppling, completely off balance. 

Knuckles and Sticks had gotten into position by this point with Amy’s direction, perfectly poised to tear the disk out and hurl it to the ground. The moment the metal hit the grass, Amy and Shadow proceeded to hit it with a combined amount of firepower that could have destroyed the entire island, let alone one small disk. 

When they were done, even the pieces were shattered into pieces.

Meanwhile, Tails pulled a heavily disoriented Eggman out of his mech, saving him from any further injury (he’d gotten a little banged up in the fight) and carrying him to the ground. “Ugh…” he groaned, sitting up slowly. “What happened? I feel like I got run over by a Motobug…”

Shadow stormed over, folding his arms irritably. “You made a truly absurd mistake, that’s what. Your fake symbiote chip corrupted your morality until you became even more of a madman than usual. You’re lucky we managed to get you out of there, otherwise this whole island would have been in great danger.”

Eggman sighed, getting to his feet. “I guess I’ll just have to make some improvements to it so that this doesn’t happen again.”

“No you won’t!” Amy cried, brandishing her hammer. “We’ve had enough of disks that turn our friends evil for one lifetime! Or Fuzzy Puppy Buddies, in your case.”

The doctor scoffed. “I’d like to think that I was evil without the help of some disk, thank you very much!”

Sonic cringed. “Yeah, but didn’t you hear? You were, like, really evil this time. Like full-on terrifying supervillain stuff.”

“…how terrifying, exactly?” Eggman asked cautiously.

Sticks shrugged. “Eh, you probably would’ve blasted us all to bits without a shred of remorse if we hadn’t stopped you.”

Everyone stared at her. “What?!” she cried. “I’m just telling it like it is!”

The doctor thought for a moment, frowning. “Well, maybe I’ll get to work on some of my other evil schemes instead. Clear out the old files, see if anything’s in there that I can update.”

The entire team relaxed marginally at that. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” Sonic said, clearly relieved.

“But what about your mech, Sonic?” Eggman asked. “It won’t be a fair fight if I give up my machine and you don’t!” The doctor nearly whined that last part, attempting to give Sonic puppy-dog eyes despite the fact that his glasses were very much in the way.

“Fiiiine, I promise not to use it in our fights.” the hero muttered. 

“Pinky promise?” Eggman said suspiciously. 

“Pinky promise.” Sonic sighed, linking his little finger with Eggman’s. (The doctor had to reach down quite a lot to make it work.)

“Now then! Robots!” he cried, making all of the others jump into defensive positions. Then, however, he smirked, and simply said “Clean up this mess! I’m certainly not dragging it all home.”

Much rolling of eyes and facepalming ensued.

While Eggman’s various robots skittered around the fallen machine and began to carry it back to his evil lair, Sonic leapt back into his own mech. “So what do you wanna do now, guys?” he asked excitedly.

When he turned around to face them, though, he saw that they were all beat up from the battle with Eggman, and hesitated. “Anyone want a ride home?” he said, a little more gently.

“Oh, yes please.” Amy sighed, leaping onto one of the mech’s shoulders. Tails perched on the other, while Knuckles sat down on one of its hands. Even Sticks overcame their aversion to technology long enough to hitch a ride.

“Shadow? Don’t you wanna hop on too?” Sonic asked.

“I’ll be fine.” Shadow muttered. “I heal quickly.”

But nobody could miss the way he held his arm close to his body, or the way he winced with every step. “Knux, can you help me out here?” Sonic sighed.

The echidna promptly picked Shadow up, making him yelp and writhe in surprise. Before he could muster up the ability to teleport, he was placed at the very top of the mech and then immediately held in place by Tails and Amy.

“I don’t need help.” he said weakly, feeling his touch-starved body jolt at the sudden contact.

Nobody seemed to notice except for Amy, who leaned against him and glanced up to make sure he was alright with that. Shadow rolled his eyes, but allowed her to remain for the whole ride back. By the end, he was alternating rapidly between tension and relaxation, striving not to let his contentment be shown and failing miserably at it.

Thankfully, he was also mostly healed by then, and so was able to leap off the mech with no problems. The others weren’t so fortunate, and only climbed off with a bit of help and lots of complaining about stiff muscles.

“Maybe we should put this thing away for a while.” Tails said. “It’s caused us a bunch of problems and hasn’t helped all that much.”

Sonic sighed. “Yeah, probably. I guess I can’t go as fast in it as I can by myself either.”

“I’m sure we can still bring it out if we ever have a serious problem.” Tails added reassuringly.

“How are we gonna move this thing into storage, though?” the hero asked.

Tails stared at him for a moment. “Sonic. You can literally just walk it into storage and then get out.”

“Oh. Right.” Sonic said sheepishly.

[Iris out ending in which he smiles awkwardly at the camera, before the entire screen goes black.]

[roll credits]

[buckyalpine]

Fluff, domestic cuteness, more fluff, I know it’s not everyone’s thing but pleaseee hear me out; just imagine beeeefy paramedic Bucky taking care of you when you’re in labor. You’re ex decided to leave halfway, realizing he wasn’t ready to be a father when you were already midway through your pregnancy, not that he was much help in the first place. You managed all on your own, ready to bring your little baby into the world all by yourself which is exactly how you ended up in this situation.

You were so close to your due date, ready to pop at any moment but your cravings for a donut didn't cease so you waddled down to the corner coffee shop in hopes of getting something with double chocolate.

Everything was fine until another customer bumped into you, sending you tumbling to the floor. A sudden sharp searin pain began to radiate through the lower half of your belly making you cry out in pain and it didn't take long for a crowd to form, the number of shouting voices and concerned faces adding to your growing anxiety. Al elderly woman held you hand while you tried to hold back tears; you couldn't get up, still laying on the floor when the faint sound of an ambulance grew louder.

A firm voice cleared the path, 2 large men walking towards you, ushering the crowd away from you first. The one with brunette hair crouches over to you, giving you a comforting smile before asking you a few quick basic questions, all while neatly looking over you for any signs of a major injury.

“Up you go, mama” he lifted you up with 0 effort, carrying you carefully in his thick arms, laying you down gently onto the stretcher. A sudden contraction rips through you causing you to panic more while your on your way to the hospital but he takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey, its okay, look at me doll, focus on me alright?" He continue to hold your hand while monitoring your heart rate and vitals, timing your contractions since they're happening closer and closer together. "I know it won't make the pain go away but how about I try and distract you, hm? My names James but you can call me Bucky" He threw you a wink while you tried your best to focus on the feel of his hand, calloused palms from lifting, yet soft and warm. You focused on his baby blue eyes and scruffy beard and sweet pink lips that curve into a half smile; no doubt he was a shy charmer.

As soon as the ambulance stops, you're whisked away to the delivery ward, poked and prodded by doctors again. None of this was part of the plan and the pain was getting worse.

"How's she doing" Bucky came by the ward on his break, curious about the sweet thing he helped earlier in the day; surely you had a partner of some sort but he couldn't help himself nonetheless. The doctor directed him to your room, his heart breaking seeing your tear streaked, terrified face.

"Everything alright, mama?" He knew you were scared, hell, he was scared himself just thinking about the situation. He rested his hand on top of yours, careful not to touch anywhere near needles. You'd been at this hospital for 2 hours already and you were still alone without another visitor in sight. "Is uh-anyone-do you want me to call anyone-

You shook your head, biting down on your lip to keep it from trembling, gripping onto him tighter. The pain was becoming unbearable, alerting the doctor and nurse to check on you again.

"She's gonna have to start pushing" You overheard the nurse as she spoke to the doctor, your heartrate racing more. Your panic stricken face wasn't missed by Bucky, still planted in his seat as if he had any business being there. He debated on if you felt comfortable with him there, ready to go or stay, whatever you needed.

"Doll, it's almost time, I can leave-

"Please-please don't go" You shakily cling onto his hand, now frozen in fear when you realize the moment is coming. The baby is almost here and you're alone. There's no one here to support you, no one here to-

"M'not going anywhere, I'm here, you're doin' great" Bucky let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you wanted, coaching you through your breathing while you were prepared to have the baby. "C'mon, push mama, you can do it, almost there"

You were in tears, sweating, crying, and Bucky couldn't help but find you beautiful. Not that he'd say that right then and there but there was something so raw and powerful in that moment, seeing you give yourself to bring in another life. He watched in awe as you fought with your body to push a human out of you.

"One more, just one more and your little one is here, you can do it doll, one last big push" He dabbed your forehead with a cool cloth, comforting you until you let out a final gasp, tiny screams filling the room. You fall back against the bed panting and he still holds your hand, gently rubbing your knuckles while giving you a proud smile.

"You did it, you did amazing mama"

-

After your baby boy is born, you still occasionally visit the hospital for checkups. You can't help the way your cheeks heat up every time you see Bucky, giving him a shy smile, lingering to talk to him longer than necessary every time you see him. You insisted on buying him and the rest of the paramedic crew coffee and donuts for helping you safely deliver your baby boy. Bucky blushes when you give him an extra donuts as a special thank you.

Each time he sees you, he likes you even more but he doesn't want to push his luck. Not when you're probably still trying to figure things out. Initially he's a little unsure, wanting to give you some space. He's also careful not to overstep any boundaries, making sure he's respectful.

Eventually he can't help himself.

He has to ask you out.

And he does.

3 years and a wedding later

You giggle watching your husband and son both press their heads against your swollen belly, whispering secrets to the little one growing inside as if you couldn't see them.

"Daddy, can she hear us?" Daniel asks with wide eyes, his little hands trying to feel the places where his baby sister was kicking.

"She can hear you baby, let her know you're gonna be her big brother" Bucky chuckled while Daniel continued to talk to your belly like he did every night ever since you found out you were pregnant.

"I can't wait to meet you" He hugs your tummy before crawling into Bucky's arms, ready to go to bed. Bucky takes him to his room, laying him down and tucking him in, pressing a kiss to his head before turning off the lights.

"Sleep tight little man"

"Night, daddy"

-

Your second pregnancy is nothing like your fist. Bucky is there by your side for every second of it. He takes time off work, cradling your belly so you don't have back pain. He reads up on books to take care of your cravings. He worships your changing body.

"Look at you, Mrs. Barnes" Bucky cooed, loving the way you filled out his Henley, your little belly stretching it while you pouted at him.

"I'm huge Bucky" you whined while he grinned, rubbing your tummy.

"S'cause you're carrying my baby, mama" He kissed your head, his large form scooping you up for some midday cuddles. He holds your close to his chest, excited over his growing family. You smile against his chest, closing your eyes while he rubs your back.

You're so happy you decided you wanted a donut.

[mariasont]

THE BIMBO RECEPTIONIST WAS SO CUTE

now id like to introduce, goth/metalhead!bimbo!reader x spence ( more of the opposites attract vibe )

super dark clothes and jewelry and looks like elvira a little bit, maybe a few piercings and tattoos for spencer to oogle at

Brooding - S.R

a/n: EEK i hope u love this as much as i loved writing it :)

bimbo reader has my heart <3

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x goth!bimbo!reader

warnings: mmm none! fluff! just two cuties being cute!

wc: 0.6k

Your pen was a flurry of motion, streaking bold lines upon the sketchpad. Technically, you should be sorting through the endless stack of files, keeping them pristine and accessible for the agents. You were always ahead of your tasks, and this job, while not earth-shattering, mattered to you. But when you had a muse as captivating as yours, it was hard to put the pen down. 

That muse being the man rifling through the files before you, his face a masterpiece of pretty lines and angles, unaware of the intensity of your focus. You contemplated expressing your admiration aloud, but the idea seemed a little too forward. So, you poured that impulse into a portrait, tracing the contours of his handsome face.

But it proved difficult to accomplish with his relentless pacing. Each step he took sparked another round of redos on the pad. Your tongue, tipped with a silver piercing, unconsciously found its way to your lip as you wrestled with the proportions of his nose, erasing furiously to get it just right.

You let out a sigh, louder than intended, and it was enough to pause his steps. "Sir, can you please stand still?"

He looked utterly baffled, lifting his brows toward his hairline. As your eyes met, he pointed to his chest, his question simple and unsure, "Huh? Me?"

A quick nod sent a ribbon of dyed hair fluttering before your eyes as you beamed at him. "Yes, you! Please, if you don't mind," you murmured, your fingers racing over the paper. "I just need, like, one more second."

He stood frozen, brows remaining quizzically raised. Why he complied, he couldn't say, but the sight of you, so engrossed in your art, your necklaces chiming in time with your movements, and how your bold makeup seemed to frame your face perfectly kept him rooted to the spot.

You peered up through your lashes, giving him a sheepish grin, cheeks lightly flushed as you set the pen down.

"All done! You're free to go. Thanks for being so patient," you chirped, gently waving the paper in the air as if to dry the ink faster.

"Can I at least see the result of my patience?" Spencer asked, his approach casual yet expectant. 

You hugged the sketchpad to your chest, a gentle laugh escaping you. "Well, I don't usually just let anyone see my work, especially strangers."

Spencer's smile was tinged with amusement.

"Considering I'm the subject, I think I have some claim to it," he joked. "And by the way, I'm Spencer Reid. There, we're practically acquaintances now."

You couldn't contain the goofy grin that spread across your face, and a giggle bubbled up from your throat.

"Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I can make an exception," you said, drawing out the last word with a wink.

The portrait made Spencer do a double-take--it was him, but as if seen through a gothic, moody lens. His usual composure cracked, and a deep, genuine laugh broke through. 

"I never knew I had such a brooding side," he commented with a smile. "I look like I stepped out of a Brontë novel. Perhaps Heathcliff on one of his better days?"

Your head cocked to the side, hair cascading over one shoulder, looking at him through lashes heavy with mascara as you shrugged.

"Heathcliff, huh? I'll take your word for it, but I get the brooding part," you said, with a bubbly laugh. "Come on, it's so you."

Spencer fiddled with his tie, raising a brow.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he felt a pleasant heat rise to his cheeks.

You squinted sightly, pretending to mull it over.

"Flattered, for sure," you said. "Broody types are just secretly plotting world domination, right?"

He grinned. "Well, maybe not world domination, but certainly plotting something."

Your voice was light, but your question was pointed. "So, what are you plotting, Spencer? Should I be worried?"

He tried to remember what Morgan had taught him.

"Absolutely. But some things are worth the wait--patience, you'll see, can be quite rewarding."

And with a promise like that, you found yourself more than willing to wait. 

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[lokiswifeduh]

Long Night

Pairings - Roommate!tfatws!Bucky x Fem!Roommate!Reader

Summary - You've been stood up twice in a row now. Bucky is tired of seeing you disappointed. So he takes you on a date.

Warnings - angst, being stood up, angry/annoyed bucky

Notes - I'm horrible at summaries, I know!! This happened to me a couple days ago, wishing I had a Bucky to take me on a date in Brooklyn right about now! Not proofread so lmk if there are any mistakes! Thank you for reading loves!!

WC - 1,750

masterlist

"Whatcha gettin' ready for, doll?" Bucky leaned on your bedroom doorframe, watching you straighten your hair in the mirror on top of your dresser.

"I have a date." You smiled, not noticing the slight drop in Bucky's smile.

"Oh, with anyone I know?"

You shook your head. "His name's Nash. Someone Sam set me up with," You explained. "He's supposed to pick me up in twenty minutes."

Bucky internally rolled his eyes. The guys Sam hung around with were nice, yes. However, he never got the guts to take you out on the date you deserved. A date with him.

"Are you sure you want him picking you up?" Bucky asked, making you look back in confusion. "I mean you don't know him that well... You could meet him there or uh, I'll drop you off." You let out a small laugh, "Yeah Buck, I'll just have my male roommate drop me off at a date, that'll go over well."

Bucky shrugged. He walked away from your bedroom to grab a beer from the fridge before sitting on the couch. He turned on whatever channel didn't require him to use the remote too much before slouching into the cushions.

Twenty minutes passed by when you slipped out of your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

"Wow, doll. You.." Bucky's eyes widened slightly, "You look great."

You grinned, looking down at your outfit. It was basic but it was the most comfortable yet fashionable outfit you had. Black flared leggings with a sage green sweater and some white sneakers. It was simple yet appropriate for a late-night-diner date.

And to top it all off your makeup had cooperated for once. Both eyebrows looked like twins and not sisters. Your highlight was perfect, shimmering, but not too much. And you had the perfect lipgloss that made your lips look sunkissed. Perfect.

"He should be here any minute!" You sprayed some perfume, your favorite vanilla scent, and went to sit in the armchair across from the couch.

Bucky hummed, keeping his eyes on the Tv, taking another sip of beer.

However, twenty more minutes went by and Nash hadn't texted you, hadn't called, and hadn't shown up. Bucky was starting to feel bad and you could tell by the pity looks he kept throwing your way.

"He uhm," Bucky cleared his throat, "Maybe he hit traffic. You know, with it being New York and everything." You nodded, trying to hold onto at least a small bit of hope. "Yeah, traffic." But then another forty minutes went by and he still hadn't even texted.

And then another hour.

And another hour.

By the time Bucky finally turned off the Tv it was three and a half hours since the time Nash was supposed to come pick you up.

You were still sitting in the armchair, having dozed off with a couple tears streaked down your face. Ruining your once-perfect makeup.

Bucky sighed, silently cursing Sam even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

"Alright, doll," Bucky whispered, placing his metal arm behind your back, and lifting your legs with his right. You groaned awake, holding your phone in your palm as you wiped your cheek. "What time is it?" Your eyes shoot open, "Did he show up?" Bucky placed you in your bed, handing you one of his t-shirts you had stolen a while ago. "No, doll. I'm sorry." You stripped your shirt off to change as Bucky went into your bathroom, grabbing a couple of makeup wipes.

"Here." He softly spoke, hating your distraught and disappointed expression.

You wiped your makeup off, shedding a couple more tears in the process. The tears dripped from your cheek to the grey henley Bucky had given you. "It's okay. Maybe he was just busy." Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to tell you that any respectful man, any gentleman wouldn't have done what Nash did to you. But he kept his mouth shut, opting to hum in your favor, and threw the makeup wipes in the trash when your face was completely bare.

"Goodnight, Doll." He placed a kiss on the crown of your head as you hummed in response. "Goodnight, Buck."

---

A couple days later, you finally got a text back from Nash.

"Bucky I was right!!" You came sliding into the kitchen, your socks making it easy to ice-skate on the smooth wood floor.

Bucky chuckled at your ability to skid so gracefully without falling. He had tried it once but vowed to never do it again after he slid into the dining room table. You would never let him live it down.

"Right about what, doll?" Bucky flipped the pancake, adding some vanilla to the dough.

"About Nash! He actually was busy!" Bucky quirked an eyebrow. Wondering why he had waited this long to text you back. Six days to be exact. "Did he say with what?" Bucky turned back to making breakfast.

"He said he got busy with work, and that something at work pissed him off so he didn't wanna see me while he was upset." You explained what Nash had told you.

Bucky had never wanted to hit someone in the face so hard.

Well, actually that wasn't true. But he did want to sock Nash in the face for standing you up and giving you a half-ass excuse days later.

"I mean that explains things, yeah..." Your brows furrowed at Bucky's flat tone. "Do you not believe it?" Bucky sighed, pulling the milk and eggs from the fridge as you sat on the countertop. "It's not that I don't believe it, it's just that it kinda seems like he forgot and or didn't wanna see you so he made up an excuse a little less than a week later to not seem like a dick." You nodded, taking in the information. Bucky couldn't sense your reaction quite yet, seeing how you were just staring at the ground with your hands in your lap, swinging your legs in the air.

"I mean, I'm seeing him tonight. If everything goes well after then I'll know it really was true."

"You're seeing him again?" You nod, "But this time I'm meeting him at the fourth corner Bakery. And I'm meeting him earlier this time, around noon."

Bucky looked over at the clock, seeing it was already 10:45. "Well you better go get ready," He said almost reluctantly, "Breakfast will be done before you need to leave."

You smiled, hopping off the countertop as you gave Bucky a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Buck. You're the best!"

He smiled, but then remembered he's only making you breakfast before you go on a date with a guy who's already stood you up once. Rolling his eyes, he scrambled the eyes, listening to your music in the other room.

---

You had already left for your date three hours ago when Bucky decided to go over to see Sam. His excuse was wanting to discuss the next mission they were due to go on in a week. But he just didn't want to sit at home all day, thinking about how you were on a date with another guy.

However, before he could reach Sam's he had to pass by the bakery where you were meeting Nash.

Yet when he looked through the window, there you were, sitting all alone at a table for two, eating a piece of cheesecake. No Nash in sight.

An internal war started in Bucky's mind. Should he go in and see if you were okay? Or should he believe Nash was in the bathroom and you were just sitting by yourself for a minute or two?

But then he noticed the solemn look on your face. The way your fork poked at the half-eaten cake. And that was your favorite kind. Bucky mumbled a soft curse, opening the door to the bakery and making his way over to you.

Without words, he sat down, his gloved hand resting on the table in front of your plate. You kept your head down, not quite looking at Bucky but knowing he was there.

"He didn't show, again." You mumbled. If Bucky didn't have super soldier hearing he doubted he could've heard what you had said.

"I know, doll. I'm sorry." You finally looked up, tears in your eyes which made Bucky's heart clench. "Why me, Buck? Why am I the one who's alone?" Bucky stayed silent, knowing you needed to vent.

"Am I unlovable? Is that what it is? Why does every single one of my friends get to find the one? Get to fall in love, get married, and have kids and I'm the one without someone?!" Your outburst made some other customers look over in concern.

You groaned, resting your head on your hand and hiding your face from the rest of the bakery. "I- uh, I'm not sure, doll. But I know one thing.. you're not unlovable. You just haven't found the one who wants to take the effort to show you how effortless you are to love."

You looked up at Bucky, fresh tears gleaming in your eyes. You had never seen him look so vulnerable before. He usually grumped his way through emotions. But not with you, not anymore.

He gave you a sad smile, clearing his throat before he stood, "Y'know what, doll. Let's go." He held out his hand. You looked around, "Where are we going?" Bucky took your palm in his gloved hand, "It's a surprise." You laughed, before standing and throwing the rest of your soggy cheesecake away. "You know how I feel about surprises." "Okay, I'll give you a hint." Bucky opened the door for you, making sure to walk on the side of the road with the bustling cars and traffic. Bucky called a taxi, opening the door for you. "You're about to have the best date of your life." You stared at him in awe before laughing and climbing in the taxi. Bucky's knees barely fit as he scooted in next to you. The driver asked where to go as Bucky licked his lips, "Brooklyn, please." You smiled, "Brooklyn?"

Bucky nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder. "I may be old but I still know some good spots to take my best girl on a date." A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked over to him. "Your best girl?" Bucky nodded, picking up your hand with his metal one before leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. "Always and forever, doll."

---

masterlist

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Six: Salt and Blood

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Alright, everyone. This is the last time you'll see baby Aemond and the reader, so let's cherish it. In the next chapter, we will start where the show did with the characters aged up in Ep. 8. I'm very excited to write for adult MC. I'm not going to lie; I'm a bit worried about writing Aemond's inner dialogue, as I've never written for a male character who isn't obsessed with the reader, but I'm sure I'll do fine. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Alicent being delulu, parentified sibling trauma, and watch me make you feel even worse about Driftmark.

As you journeyed from the gloomy corridors of the Red Keep to the sulfuric atmosphere of Dragonstone and now to the sandy shores and scattered shells of Driftmark, an air of sadness seemed to cling to you wherever you went. You stood at the edge of a cliff, gazing down at the tranquil sea, overlooking the stone coffin that cradled your late Aunt Laena. Two deaths, each carrying its weight of sorrow, yet only one mourned.

You wondered what it would be like to die choked in flames like Ser Harwin and Lyonel Strong did. Would it be the same as suffering dragon fire like your Aunt? Most likely not. Hers was a swift burning of flesh from bones, while theirs was hours of agony and suffocation. 

Despite what your family claimed, the idea of dying to your own dragon’s flames wasn’t an appealing end to you. It didn’t seem noble like how stories explained it to be. It was horrifying to have your skin torched from your body, to feel the power of a thousand suns on your flesh. It would be excruciatingly painful, and you wished it upon no one, not even those you despised most. You would much rather meet the Stranger in your sleep. 

You barely settled into your new home on Dragonstone before your mother received the two ravens. One bringing news of Ser Harwin and the other of Laena, containing death in the ink. You consoled your mother and father as best you could, hugging and kissing and telling them that you loved them and were sorry. It was an impossible task to do, but you couldn’t help yourself. You hated seeing them so distraught and wanted to make them feel better. 

At night, you cried into your pillows in your now isolated bedroom until Jace and Luke entered, watery eyes matching yours. As the eldest, it was your job to hold your family together when your parents couldn’t, and it left you no time to properly grieve the loss of an Aunt and a father figure.

You felt terrible for your cousins Baela and Rhaena. To go to bed one night and wake up the next without a mother was a depth of grief you couldn’t imagine. You didn’t think you could live a life without your mother; you would die with her, and the ability of your cousins to continue without her was admirable as you observed their sullen faces streaked with tears. 

Your Great Uncle Vaemond spoke his sermon in High Valyrian, which was too fast and practiced for you to understand. You could decipher some words here and there, but ultimately, you were lost listening to a man you rarely met. You felt your mother straighten her stance from behind, her arms coming to circle the three of you in a protective embrace.

Vaemond’s eyes were on yours, Luke’s, and Jace’s, but everyone else was focused on him—on the coffin with Lady Laena’s face carved into it.

As your eyes wandered to the other people surrounding the funeral procession, fear struck you as you caught your eldest uncle’s eye. It wasn’t very comforting to see Aegon so soon. You had set it in your mind that you wouldn’t have to see him for many years, and yet, here you were, dressed in an obsidian and red-sleeved gown, pearls adorning the collar and your veiled headpiece. Quickly, you turned away, instinctually taking Jace’s hand in yours.

An air of stiffness surrounded your family that you weren’t blind to. It was always there, but now, more than before, you felt it. You thought it was childish to be so locked into familial drama when someone lay dead inside a casket. Though you didn’t remember much of the times you met your Aunt Laena, she still deserved the respect of putting these grievances aside. You knew you were part of it, but more important things were happening than what you suffered. 

The cries of your father sent waves of sadness into your heart, and with the sudden urge to get him to stop, you left the safety of your brother and clung to your father’s waist. He lifted you into his sea-worn arms and clung to your frail body as if it was the only thing that kept him from sinking into his grief. You rested your temple onto his shoulder, tears of empathy falling from your eyes as he pressed your head closer. 

Afraid of what would become of your father if you let go, you allowed him to crush you in his embrace for as long as he needed it as a scornful laugh broke through the tense atmosphere. You peeked from your position to see Great Uncle Daemon chuckling to himself with a shake of his head at what Vaemond said. You felt annoyance bubble inside you, solidifying your distaste for the man as the Velaryon guards clad in silver armor and blue seahorse sigils lifted the ropes and lowered your Aunt into the roaring sea. 

You didn’t leave your father’s side for the remainder of the day, not even when he slowly lowered himself into the sea with his sister as the cold, salty breeze swept through the evening. You wanted to speak with Aemond, if just for a small moment, but your family came first. They always came before anyone else, a fact that your mother instilled into the very fabric of your being.

Sitting atop one of the rock ledges near your father, you dipped your feet into the saltwater, dragging your toes to watch the water ripple and allow time to pass. It didn’t feel right to leave him alone. The image of him falling into the ocean as your Aunt played repeatedly in your mind’s eye. You were afraid in his grief, he would follow her. Only when your father’s squire, Ser Qarl, took your father from his place with his sister did you leave, joining the rest of the goers for the wake late in the evening.

Searching through the crowd of people for your mother and your brothers, you couldn’t find them. Alone with none of your family for protection, you felt fear pull at your chest. Your hands began to scratch at your arms and scalp, attempting to quell the insatiable itch. The fabric prevented you from doing so, and tears of fright soon began to collect at your lashes. 

From across the balcony, you saw a flash of green, a color that had never offered you comfort until now. Yet as quickly as you saw it, it vanished, leaving only a head of white promptly running down the stairs. You felt your heart drop into your feet as you watched Aemond run across the sandy dunes like he was running from you. 

The call of a dragon you never heard before screeched through the gray skies. It was mournful as if it were calling for a lost pet or child. In this case, it was a rider. As you looked up, you could see the vast shadow of Vhagar’s silhouette soaring through the clouds, flying in the same direction your uncle went. You felt your eyes grow wide with worry at the realization, wanting to chase after Aemond and warn him.

“Let’s get you to bed,” a tender, feminine voice came from behind you as you jolted in surprise. The tall figure of Queen Alicent stood before you, curly auburn hair pinned back into a magnificent updo and clad in her usual green and gold as she put a hand on your back. “Your mother already sent your brothers.” 

“Where is she?” you hastily asked. Aemond was no longer on your mind.

“I’m uncertain. Your father is off drowning his sorrow in his cups with his squire,” she answered in the same velvet voice you remembered her having, bitterness you didn’t understand laced in the undertone.

You felt offended by how the Queen spoke about your father. He was grieving. He was allowed to spend time with whomever he wished, doing what he wanted.

Alicent lifted her arm, wrapping it around your petite frame, and led you inside Hightide. It was not as cold or formidable as Dragonstone; its dark magic melted into the walls, yet it didn’t hold the warmth of the Red Keep. Still, you felt unwelcomed here, either by the place or its people. The pale stone walls were filled with bits and pieces of shells from clams, mollusks, and other long-dead shell creatures mixed into the mortar to make it stand the test of salty air. 

The Hall of the Nine, where you passed as Queen Alicent, led you to the guest chambers, where you held the Driftwood throne where your grandfather Corlys reigned. You recalled when you visited this place many years ago and how he went on about the many treasures from his sieges and conquests that decorated the room in all its glory. He and his wife, Rhaenys, sat in a heated discussion in front of the hearth.

Once you reached the door to your shared bed chambers with your brothers, Alicent turned to you. It was the first time you had seen her since what Aegon had done to you, and you felt tension. It seemed as if she wanted to speak, to say everything that had been bottled up since the revelation of her son’s transgressions, but she was unable to do so as tears choked her. Instead, the only words that came out were those she couldn’t say to her children. 

“I hope you can find the time to visit the Keep. Helaena asked when you would be returning, and it broke my heart to tell her you wouldn’t be,” she confided, stroking the thin black fabric covering your dark hair. “Aemond has turned inwards since you left, and Aegon has become crueler to him. It makes me wonder if he’s always been this way and that my love for him has blinded me from his transgressions.” 

You said nothing. The mention of Aegon’s name still felt like a blow to the stomach. “I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive my son for what he did to you and that we may yet be the family we were always meant to be.” Your tongue felt like lead as your breathing began to race, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as Alicent kneeled before you, a sad smile on her supple lips as she tenderly swiped your tear-stained cheeks with her smooth thumbs. 

“I love you, my shining light, my dream.” 

Leaning in, she took your small frame by your shoulders, kissing your forehead as one would do to their babe. You felt sick, nausea churning in your stomach as you quickly opened the bedroom door, hastily shutting it behind you in fright. 

It was all too much—Lady Laena’s death, Ser Harwin’s, seeing your father in shambles, and Queen Alicent’s steadfast belief that you should become a part of her family no matter what happened to you. The Queen desired to wed you and Aegon despite the horrors he committed. The realization that she genuinely didn’t see what your eldest uncle did to you as something that would permanently bar you from joining the union pierced your heart. You would much rather marry Aemond or Helaena, but having no ties to her seemed better.

Your brothers peered at you curiously from their beds as you clutched your chest, looking as if you ran the entire way here. They didn’t ask any questions, and you didn’t move to speak, loosening the ties of your gown and shrugging it off until you were only in your smock. You didn’t feel like changing into your nightdress in front of your brothers, deciding to climb into bed and shove your face into the pillows, refusing to cry in front of Jace and Luke as you fell into a dreamless sleep.

When Aemond learned of Lady Laena’s death, he knew it was a sign from the Gods that his time had come. The Seven had deemed this the moment to prove himself to everyone who doubted him and thought him useless without a dragon. 

Vhagar. 

The largest, oldest, and strongest dragon in the world was riderless. 

Aemond believed that once he gained the only thing he lacked, life would finally be what it should have been. He would make his father proud, shove all the taunts and jests from Aegon and his nephews back into their faces, and finally become a man you deemed worthy—your Mors Martell. 

As Aemond fled from the wake when the candles had long melted, he thought only of the ichor coursing through his veins. Dusk was upon the island, and the night’s wind blew harshly, strands of his silver-blonde hair covering his face as he climbed over the dunes. Vhagar was further from the castle than he initially thought.

“Fuck.” Aemond released a sigh of exasperation and scrambled across the uneven ground. 

When he came upon the dragon, he was in awe. Vhagar was as frightening as she was enormous—a giant, green-scaled, moving mountain that shook the ground and blew sand with every movement and breath from her powerful lungs. 

Taking advantage of Vhagar’s resting state, Aemond crept along the sparse grass, feeling each gust of air she created with her wide nostrils, blowing the sand into his face and ears. Anxiety was present in his gut, feeling a slight tremble in his limbs as he closed the distance, wrapping his hand around one of the many ropes draped across Vhagar’s scales. Suddenly, he felt the ground underneath him quake, and the head of the dragon lifted with a low rumble.

Vhagar observed Aemond with tired yet calculating amber orbs, double eyelids blinking. She grumbled as she bore her teeth to him. They were the size of a fully grown adult, sending a shiver down his spine. As if it were an act of divine intervention, Vhagar laid her enormous head back down, seeming disinterested in the young boy before her. 

If Lady Laena’s death wasn’t proof enough Aemond was fated by the Gods to claim a dragon, the most powerful beast in the world, laying its head in acquiescence certainly was. Blinded by his small victory, nerves still in his mind, he reached for the rope ladder again, only for Vhagar to raise her head and growl, low and deep. A snarl formed on her great maw as Aemond stumbled back in shock and saw the light of orange flames gather at the back of her throat. 

“Dohaerās!” (Serve!) he shouted instinctively, recalling the many lessons he observed in the Dragonpit as he felt the heat of fire on his countenance. “Dohaerās, Vagus! Lykirī!” (Serve, Vhagar! Be calm!)

With Aemond’s commands, the she-dragon relaxed, recalling her flames and closing her mouth. She purred to him like a cat, a sign that she approved his merit while standing in the face of death. Vhagar would allow the Prince an attempt to claim her, but he must prove himself before the eyes of the Gods, before the eyes of a dragon. 

Aemond took the ropes and climbed atop the mighty Vhagar’s back, positioning himself in the saddle and grabbing the reigns. 

“Sōvēs!” (Fly!) Aemond ordered, and Vhagar rumbled, raising her legs and shaking the sand from her scales. “Sōvēs!”

She obeyed, taking a few giant steps and flapping her great wings, pushing off from the ground and leaving a sandstorm in her wake. Though Aemond told Vhagar to fly, he still had yet to control her as she took to the night sky in a near-vertical position, catching him unaware. The force knocked him from the leather saddle, leaving him dangling in the air with just the reigns for purchase. Aemond screamed with fear, feeling as if his stomach lurched out of his body as he struggled against the whipping wind to regain control. 

She tested him as he grabbed the pommel, sat upright, and pulled the ropes to balance her. He felt like he was on a bucking horse, loosening, tightening, twisting, and turning to the left and right to steer her safely. Vhagar ignored Aemond’s movements and continued to fly like he wasn’t there, diving into the dunes of Driftmark before he reared her upwards, dragging her claws across the sand. He squealed in terror, blocking the debris that scratched his face as she soared over the sea.

Aemond knew he needed to prove himself to her, to show the war-hardened dragon that he deserved to ride her. Her chirps and groans from the day earlier called to him like nothing before, singing to the Prince in her dragon song of forlornness and isolation. Perhaps that was why he felt compelled to claim her. They both shared that feeling of loneliness deep within their souls, that same oddness in their families. The dragoness was too large to be held within any structure, leaving her in forced solitude, her only companions being her rider. Aemond was the only one, despite his Valyrian features, not to have a dragon. 

That would no longer be his story.

Aemond fortified his mind and will, putting his soul into his movements as he lifted Vhagar higher in the sky. He could feel the blood of Old Valyria coursing through his veins as the mighty dragon obeyed, leveling out her vast wings and soaring over Spicetown and back to Driftmark. He screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him in the skies, a bright smile he was sure you could see in Lannisport. 

Aemond had proven himself. He had shown himself and all who doubted and bullied him for not having a dragon that he was capable, that he was worthy. 

Everything was as it should be.

Perhaps you would allow him to kiss you again and spend the night in his embrace. Aemond had no doubt you would be proud of him as he listened to your assurances that he was brave, a dragon knight who you could trust with your secrets and protect you from enemies, and that he deserved your heart. 

Aemond landed Vhagar with a grace he hadn’t possessed before, climbing down the rope ladder on her side with windburnt cheeks. As soon as his feet touched the sand, he ran straight to the underground caverns of High Tide to wake you and explain everything.

“Jace!” 

You faintly heard a voice calling, sounding distant in your dream state. Ignoring it with a groan, you rolled over, trying to return to sleep.

“Jace, wake up! Someone stole Vhagar!”

This woke you from your sleep. You sat up to see Baela and Rhaena hovering over your brother’s bed. 

“We need to stop them!”

Jace and Luke quickly threw the covers off and stuck their feet into their slippers as you observed them curiously. Rubbing the sleep from your face, you yawned, begrudgingly following them. 

“You cannot steal a dragon,” you countered after a long silence in the pale stone halls, your voice laced with sleep. It felt like you had hardly gotten a wink. 

“She is my mother’s dragon! I was supposed to claim her,” Rhaena countered, tears collecting in her dark eyes. 

Yawning again as you followed a few paces behind your siblings and cousins, you rolled your eyes, wanting to bite with the remark, “Why didn’t you?” But you didn’t say it. The reason was apparent why she didn’t, and Rhaena didn’t need any more reason to be distraught.

They led you to the caverns of High Tide, stumbling in your sleepless state. They led to the beaches lit only by dim torchlight, your movements groggy and slightly annoyed. On the other end of the tunnel, Aemond appeared before you with a proud grin and windswept hair. You couldn’t help but mirror his expression, a contagious self-satisfaction that spread to you. 

He needn’t say it aloud. You could tell by how he carried himself, shoulders back, chin high, and a slight lift to his cheeks, that your uncle claimed a dragon—the mightiest one in the world, Vhagar. 

“It’s him!” Rhaena exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Aemond.

It didn’t deter him, countering with his head high, violet eyes flicking from you to your cousin. “It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!” she yelled, hurt as if this reasoning would change Vhagar’s fate. As you moved to Aemond, Jace grabbed your hand, stopping you with an anxious yet demanding look on his face. 

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now,” your uncle replied, and you felt your brows raise in shock. You knew better than most of the cruelty he could commit, but after spending time with Aemond and seeing the softer, gentler, and kinder side of him, it took you off guard. 

“She was mine to claim!” Rhaena argued, charging toward him in a challenge. Your skin began to itch, and your breath quickened. 

The hatred felt at the funeral carried over into your brothers and cousins. Tension in the air crackled like a fire in a hearth, watching the yellow and orange flames slowly dwindle into embers until someone threw tinder to spark it.

“Then you should’ve claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride,” Aemond sneered. “It would suit you.”

Your lips parted in empathetic offense as you looked from your uncle to Rhaena, tears of guilt and shame pricking at your eyes. You apologized about the pig, and you thought Aemond forgave you, but it seems he couldn’t let go of the hurt no matter how close you were. The feeling of joy for your uncle’s feat was as brief as your friendship.

With a surge of rage, Rhaena charged forward, attempting to push Aemond, but he swiftly countered, and she fell to the ground. You jumped back in shock as you covered your mouth, Luke standing beside you. Baela screamed, protecting her sister as she punched him across his face and Aemond yelped in pain. Without thinking, you went toward your uncle, fearful for his well-being in your heart, but he swiftly stood before you could reach him, returning the same swing to Baela. You gasped in horror and moved to the side, narrowly missing your cousin’s body from colliding with yours. 

“Come at me again, and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” Aemond snarled at the twins, and without warning, Jace ran to him with a shout, shoving your uncle in offended anger and smacking him across the cheek.

You screamed for them to stop as you watched Luke try to join the fray, but you held him back, scared that he would get caught in the crossfire. He was the youngest and the littlest, most likely to get hurt. You needed to protect what family you could. Aemond brought this upon himself with his words of arrogance, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to defend him, too.

The scene before you was violent, a flurry of white, black, and red running atop Aemond as Luke slipped from your grasp, all pummeling, kicking, and screaming at him as you cried for them to stop. He was helpless as he suffered blow after blow, and you felt your heart splinter. This wasn’t a fair fight. Without worrying for yourself, you jumped on top of Jace, pulling him back from your uncle and giving him a chance to defend himself. You felt like a betrayer, turning against your twin to save your uncle. Your brother grunted as you both fell to the ground, his body on top of you as you struggled to keep him from fighting. 

You and your siblings had fought before, but nothing like this. It was so vicious, filled with violence and want for pain, as Jace whipped his head back into yours, causing it to slam against one of the many jagged rocks across the ground, having you see stars. He went back into the brawl with no worry for your safety as you heard the unsheathing of a knife, your eyes blurry as you struggled to see the scene before you. 

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Aemond yelled, suddenly holding Luke by his neck with a rock in his hand.

“My father is alive!” Luke gasped in protest, flinging his arms and blood running down his face.

You needed to get up to protect Luke from physical harm and the threat of discovering your lineage. You didn’t believe Aemond would kill Luke. He was capable of violence, but he wasn’t a murderer. As you tried to move, your skull felt filled with sand, pulling you back down to the ground as you felt the warm trickle of liquid run down your neck. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your sight and mind. 

Aemond spoke again to Jace, seeming to forget your existence and holding a sense of superiority. “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?” 

You forgot how cruel Aemond could be. Your stolen moments of reading and kisses in the night had closed your eyes to it.

“Aemond, don’t,” you mumbled, skull pounding as the excruciating sounds of your brothers and uncle’s shouts pierced your ears like needles. 

You blinked your eyes into focus, seeing Jace wildly swinging a knife at Aemond as you managed to kneel. Your brothers didn’t realize how dangerous what they were doing was, that a knife wasn’t something to use against someone who was armed with only a stone in hand. While Aemond was bigger and had more combat experience, a dagger would kill him. Being upset because someone claimed a dragon wasn’t worth murdering over. 

Reaching your arm out with a soft grunt, you grabbed Jace’s ankle as Aemond pushed him over, holding the same rock above his head as he did for Luke. You thought Aemond knew better than this. You gave him the perfect opportunity to run and get help now that Baela and Rhaena huddled into a scared, crying mess, but he was too far gone into his anger to see reason, blinded by it. 

“Aemond! No!” you shouted hoarsely, trying to stand but failing as your head pounded like a drumbeat.

He turned to you then, lowering the rock to his side as he stared at you with the sudden realization of what he had done. Your uncle was filled with a surge of superiority inside him. He couldn’t think straight, and when he happened upon the five of you, people he was always told that he was above, something inside him that lay dormant finally broke free. He knew he was always capable of violence, but felt remorse when he saw your bruised nose, tear-streaked cheeks, and blood dripping down your throat. 

Did he do that to you? 

Suddenly, Aemond was blinded, sand thrown into his eyes as he stumbled back and heard the yell of Luke, unimaginable pain soon following. You watched in horror as your brother savagely sliced into your uncle’s left eye, blood pouring and splattering across the ground. 

Aemond couldn’t remember if you were amid his attackers. He surveyed the bruised and battered bodies before him and realized what he had done as his stomach fell to his feet.

He hurt people, just like Aegon. You would never entrust your secrets to him. His hands committed violence, but his heart desired to tell a different story—one of a strong and noble prince who went through many trials and tribulations to prove himself worthy of the princess's heart.

All you could hear were screams. Screams from you, screams from Aemond as you crawled towards him, sobbing. 

“Aemond!” you cried as he doubled over, falling into your body as he screeched in pain. 

“It hurts!” he wailed into your chest, his free hand clawing into your back. “It hurts! Help me!” 

You trembled, arms struggling to keep yourself upright against his weight as the flurry of guards rumbled inside your skull like thunder. Unable to make out their words as they moved, it seemed like you were watching the world from outside your body, from the lenses of another, as Ser Harrold pried Aemond from your embrace.

It hurt. Everything hurt—your heart, stomach, muscles, and head. You weren’t sure who led you, Baela, Rhaena, Luke, and Jace to the Hall of the Nine as a flurry of people gathered, pushing and shoving as you clutched your skull. The room was so bright, so loud, as you heard your uncle’s screams. You felt sturdy arms grab you by your shoulders, roughly moving you as if you were nothing more than a doll, as it felt like your eyes were about to burst. Steel blue fabric blocked your eyes as you saw the hazy image of a seahorse stitched into the fabric.

“Father?” You reached out, small digits feeling along the fine silk until the texture of scruff scratched at your skin. Blinking, you saw the aged face of your grandfather, Lord Corlys, as he gathered you and your brothers behind him. 

Where was he, and where was your mother? 

You felt sick as people scattered around you like seagulls when they discovered a bloated whale carcass, all trying to see the injured Prince, who cried until the Maester poured Milk of the Poppy down his throat. It felt like when you accidentally drank the water from Blackwater Bay, like a cold, nauseous sensation that sent beads of sweat rolling down your spine. 

“I don’t feel good,” you whispered to Jace as you leaned into his side, clutching your head and gut. He paid you no mind, peering behind your grandfather to see your other one appear, bearing total weight upon his dragon-head cane. 

“How could you let such a thing happen?” Viserys questioned Ser Harrold, examining Aemond as you heard the sickening squelch of flesh and rattle of metal tools. “I will have answers!”

Despite it undoubtedly being a harrowing sight, you wanted to be by your uncle, to hold his hand through it, to feel his pain with him, but you couldn’t. You needed to be with your brothers. What they saw and experienced would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Luke had taken Aemond’s eye. 

“The princess and princes were supposed to be abed, my king,” the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard explained, shame woven in his words. 

Viserys wouldn’t allow his knights to show such carelessness, surveying each of them with critical eyes. “Who had the watch?”

“The young prince was attacked by his cousins, your grace,” Ser Cristion nonchalantly replied. His words angered you for reasons unknown, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. 

Viserys turned to the room, looking between the two Kingsguards on opposite sides of the family as he hobbled on his cane. “You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!” he boomed in a way you hadn’t seen before. You were afraid he would direct his anger at you, Jace, and Luke, wrapping your arms around them like you were in any state to protect your brothers. 

“I’m very sorry, your grace,” Ser Westerling said, head hung low in unimaginable disgrace. You felt bad for him. There was no way he could have stopped this. He was doing his duty and serving his King. It was Ser Criston who should be blamed.

“The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes before, your grace-”

“That is no answer!” your grandfather yelled at Ser Criston, causing a clap of pain to thunder inside your skull. 

You wanted to go to bed, sleep for eternity, and be awake to everything as it was yesterday. Your brothers and cousins unbloodied and Aemond dragonless and with an eye. 

“Where’s mother?” you noiselessly questioned Jace, leaning into his ear and almost losing your footing. You needed to stay strong for them. 

“It will heal, will it not? Maester?” Queen Alicent asked, velveteen voice quivering with pain for her poor son. Maester Kelvyn finished stitching Aemond’s skin, throwing the needle and thread into a bowl with your uncle’s fleshy, viscous eye. 

“The flesh will heal. The eye is lost, your grace,” his nasal voice replied matter-of-factly.

You were going to be ill. 

Quickly, you ran through the multitude of people, pushing past Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, who tried to stop you before you vomited all the contents of your stomach onto a person’s unsuspecting shoes. The crowd gasped in revolt, those not close to you jumping back and clutching their chests in shock. You found yourself before the fireplace, basking in its comforting warmth as you leaned onto the hearth and looked at the unlucky soul you retched on. 

Perhaps the Gods had a twisted sense of justice as you saw the disgusted face of Aegon before you. You didn’t hide your amused smirk.

“Tend to the Princess!” the King shouted to the Maester, seeming to forget about his injured son and throwing his cane in your direction. 

A flurry of green came before pale gray, tenderly cradling your visage in her palms as if you were her child, inspecting it. You grabbed the Queen’s wrists and attempted to push her away as if her touch burned, but she resisted, struggling against your childish strength until she grabbed your shoulders. Her touch reminded you of Aegon as you burst into tears, muscles going limp and at Queen Alicent’s mercy. She turned your head in her grasp, examining you with the utmost care that made another wave of nausea through you. 

The crowd observed in anxious silence as Aemond turned to watch his mother treat you with the affection he wished to receive. Familiar hatred bloomed inside his heart, swallowing his dry mouth as he thought resentfully. He would still have his eye if he hadn’t been so concerned with you. 

“I want my mother.” you whimpered, lips quivering in fear as the Queen lovingly wiped the blood from your neck. 

The Queen released you from her grip as if you had struck her, chest heaving and wide brown eyes watering as she turned to her eldest son. Your mother was here; you didn’t realize it.

“Where were you?” she interrogated Aegon, smacking him upside down before he could answer. 

“Ow! What was that for?” he questioned, incredulously rubbing at the afflicted area grimly. You held no sympathy for him as you hugged your sides. 

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your siblings suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!” she whispered heatedly so only he could hear, shaking his gangly body in rage. You looked at the Queen with confusion, thinking she had gone mad with grief when she said “siblings.”

As the grand Hall doors creaked open, a shaft of golden light spilled into the room, casting long shadows on the marble floor. With an air of elegance, your mother swept into the room, her silk gown trailing behind her. Following closely was Uncle Daemon, his formidable presence filling the space. Amidst the whispers and murmurs, your name and that of your brothers floated through the air, drawing your attention. Without a second thought, you moved toward her, the sensation of fingertips brushing your bicep as if a ghostly hand had tried to hold you back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Show me, show me!” your mother ordered you and Luke, softly running her digits across your body as you sobbed with relief. “Who did this?”

“They attacked me!” Aemond yelled before you could get a word out, leaning from behind his chair. 

You saw his wound on full display. An ugly crisscrossed row of stitches lined up his eye socket and onto his forehead, the flesh puckered and pink as it fought the infection. Your mother moved your face before you could stare any longer as a chorus of accusations from your brothers and cousins sang. You couldn’t get the image of his gash out of your head. 

“He was going to kill Jace! I didn’t do anything!” Luke loudly shouted as you scrunched your eyes with a painful wince.

“Enough!” you heard your grandfather yell, and you looked at him with helpless, watery eyes, but no one listened. 

“It should be my son telling the tale!” the Queen protested, fist pounding against her chest with conviction over the voices.

You continued to look at your grandfather in anguish, the King of The Seven Kingdoms, whom everyone ignored except you. “Silence!” he yelled, voice rattling inside his hollow chest as flem flew from his decaying mouth. 

The Hall went silent, quieter than the Stranger himself, as everyone looked at one another, stunned at the turn of events. People came here to mourn the loss of a daughter, an aunt, a niece, a wife, and a sister. Viserys looked at you and then at his son, his ivory staff sounding with every movement as you swallowed, the taste of bile strong. 

“He called us bastards.” you silently whispered to your mother, wiping the tears and snot from your face.

“Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened.” The King approached your uncle as he slumped into the armchair, stepping swiftly and with a newfound curiosity. “Now.”

“What else is there to hear?” Alicent questioned, clutching at her neck as tears threatened to spill. “Your son has been maimed, and her son is responsible.”

“Twas a regrettable accident,” your mother countered, moving her body to shadow the three of you from the onlookers.

“Accident?” the Queen repeated, astonished. “The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush! He meant to kill my son!” 

You realized the truth didn’t matter now. All that did was what people perceived it to be. 

“Twas my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!” your mother argued as she placed a comforting hand onto Luke’s shoulders. “Vile insults were levied against them!” 

Your grandfather turned from his son to the four of you as you inhaled a shuddering breath. “What insults?” he questioned, a dangerous lilt to his tone that you had never heard before as the Hall went silent. It raised the hairs on your arms. 

“The legitimacy of my children’s birth was put loudly to question,” your mother replied, her chin high yet holding a nervous waver to her voice. 

As she turned towards you, your mother’s eyes conveyed a silent but insistent demand to verbalize what you previously whispered. She wished everyone to hear these words from you—the compassionate and considerate eldest daughter known as The Gods’ Light among the common folk. With tears streaming down your cheeks and your chest heaving with emotion, you gazed at Aemond with a sense of guilt. You knew the words you were about to utter would carry an extraordinary weight. Both sides sought someone to bear responsibility for the turmoil, but you recognized the unspoken truth. 

At that moment, honesty seemed inconsequential. Aemond had suffered the loss of his eye due to Luke’s actions, and you keenly felt your failure to shield your brothers from harm. You would never fault at your duty again. 

“He called us bastards,” you confessed, lacking the anger and conviction of your siblings as you sniffled, refusing to look at Aemond. 

You watched as the Queen’s auburn tresses bounced with the slight affirming nod of her head, a look of disbelief and recognition crossing her face. At that moment, it became clear that she had informed Aemond about the deception, hardening your heart with betrayal. You had believed that she was different and loved you like family, and it stung to realize that she didn’t hesitate to spread lies that would hurt you.

“My children are to inherit the Iron Throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons,” your mother reasoned, stepping forward to her slouched father as you attempted to reach for her hand to keep you hidden. “Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such awful slanders.”

As you gazed at your mother, her expression eerily mirroring that of Alicent’s, your lips began to quiver with unease. Was your mother implying that he should be subjected to torture? It seemed unfathomable. She couldn’t possibly be serious.

“Over an insult?” the Queen asked, shaking her head in disbelief. You knew she was trying to protect herself as you glared at the woman you once thought held the moon. “My son has lost an eye!”

“Tell me, boy. Where did you hear such lies?” the King seethed, face a hairsbreadth from Aemond as you whimpered.

“The insult was training yard bluster,” Alicent swiftly reasoned, eyes flicking desperately from her son to her husband. “The lot of boys. ‘Twas nothing-”

“Aemond,” your grandfather interrupted, ignoring his wife’s explanation. “I asked you a question.” 

Your uncle sat in solemn silence, his lone violet eye unwaveringly fixed on the ground while his father awaited his reply. Before he could utter a word, the Queen unexpectedly interjected. 

“Where is Ser Laenor, the children’s father? Perhaps he would have something to say on the matter,” she jeered.

Your grandfather turned, sparse brows scrunching together as he turned to Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. “Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, your grace. I… could not find sleep and decided to take a walk,” your mother answered for them, smooth palms wiping across her crimson skirt.

The Queen let out a derisive laugh, her disbelief evident as she shook her head at her old friend. It was impossible to ignore the precise timing of Daemon’s arrival into the Hall of the Nine, trailing just moments behind Rhaenyra with her tousled strands of golden hair. Alicent bore the knowledge of her friend’s calculated machinations, even as Rhaenyra’s children stealthily slipped out of their beds to perpetrate the heinous act of maiming her son. She couldn’t dismiss the nagging suspicion that Ser Laenor was likely engaged in equally treacherous activities.

“Entertaining his young squires, I presume,” Queen Alicent sneered like before, making you feel the same deep-seated ire. 

As no one dared to voice their opposition to her words, a glint of silver caught your eye from the corner, revealing Ser Criston Cole’s silent laughter. Like Ser Harwin, you felt the urge to wipe that smug grin off his tanned face, even though you knew it was impossible.

“Aemond, look at me. Your King demands an answer,” your grandfather began, staggering before your uncle. “Who spoke the lies to you?”

Everything went silent; the roaring of the fire and the crashing of the waves in the darkness were all that could be heard in the Hall. You understood that whoever Aemond implicated might not live til the next morn. You felt your throat grow tight and struggled to breathe, clutching at your throat as you swallowed the acrid taste in your mouth. Queen Alicent told him as you recalled the time in Helaena’s room. It confused you at first why she would spread such gossip as she seemed to hold a tenderness for you. Claiming your brothers were bastards went without saying you were, but you realized that whatever contempt she had within her heart weighed far more significant than any affection for you. 

Some of you wished to shout that it was her, but you realized that was something Alicent would do without a second thought if the roles were reversed, and you did not want to be like her. She was wicked and cruel, just like her eldest.

“It was Aegon. He told Aemond to call us that,” you answered as every pair of eyes flocked to you. You didn’t like how close your grandfather was to him, afraid that he might strike him for the consequences of his mother. You felt your heart lurch into your throat as you gained the courage to speak the words aloud of all the bad things he did to you. “And he… he”

Before you could finish, your mother tucked you into her waist, kneeling and pushing your face into her shoulder. You tried to pull away from her when his hand rested on your head, the welt sensitive to touch. 

“Don’t,” she whispered into your hair, disguising it as a kiss. They deserved to know. Everyone needed to know what awful Aegon did to you. You wanted to move against her, but your mind was foggy and muscles weak.

“Me?” Aegon exclaimed with shock, wide amethyst orbs looking at you with a broken expression. 

“And you, boy,” your grandfather crept towards him, the rhythmic tapping of his cane piercing your skull like an ice pick. “Where did you hear such calumnies?” Your uncle refused to answer him as his gaze bore holes into your being. There was no remorse in your heart for him. “Aegon, tell me the truth of it!” Viserys shouted, causing you to flinch and cover your ears. 

“We know, father,” Aegon replied fearlessly, refusing to remove his stare from your quivering form. “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

Feeling the stares from the guests, you admired your uncle for not implicating his mother like a coward, removing your body from your mother, wiping the snot from your lip. Let them look, you thought, inhaling a deep breath as you felt your mother bring you closer. They would stare at you for the rest of your days. It was best if you grew accustomed to it now.

“This interminable infighting must cease!” the King declared, banging his walking stick off the pale stone floor. “All of you! We are family! Now, make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it.” 

You grimaced at his words, and though you loved your grandfather, having been his favorite granddaughter, you disagreed with him. You refused to apologize for your family trying to defend themselves, and the Queen couldn’t help but agree more. 

“That is insufficient,” Alicent said, gesturing to her son. “Aemond has been damaged permanently, my King. Goodwill cannot make him whole.” 

Aemond’s fingers dug into the wooden framing of the armchair, and your chin quivered at the thought of what he might be feeling. 

“I know, Alicent,” Viserys sighed, “but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it’s been taken,” she sobbed, clutching at her chest, flicking her hair back in a manner that reminded you of Aegon. “There is a debt to be paid. I shall have the hand of her eldest to one of my sons. To mend the rift and unite the House of the Dragon once more.”

“Alicent,” your grandfather breathed in a warning, yet still turned to his daughter, having a hint of hope in his violet eyes.

You looked at your mother, shock overcoming any sadness you felt as she shoved you behind her skirts like a hen would do to her chick, too stunned to speak. “I refuse.” 

The Queen shook her head, a sneer curling her plump lips and wet cheeks. Rhaenyra was a selfish, wicked woman with no inclination of decency. Why couldn’t she see this would be solved if she returned Alicent’s rightful daughter to her? The Queen steeled herself to the belief that she would have to fight for her right to have you. She knew deep in her bones that you would one day be by her side.

“Then I shall have one of her sons’ eyes in return. The Princess is innocent,” the Queen declared with a desperate wave of tears. 

Aemond looked to his mother, face impassive, and senses dulled from Milk of the Poppy. He didn’t recall telling her about what you did for him, though it was very little. It felt like he was becoming a second thought to his mother, who seemed only to be scheming on how to insert his niece into their lives. Aemond realized then that he would always be second in his mother’s heart to you, and he felt hollow at the thought, the love that once filled it for his niece ceasing to exist.

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment,” your grandfather warned Queen Alicent. She said nothing as her chest heaved, brown orbs flicking between her husband and old friend.

Believing the matter finished, the King backed away, but Alicent wouldn’t allow this to be the end. She looked to her sworn protector, an apathetic expression on her visage. 

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” Ser Criston looked to the Queen with a startled expression as Luke cried for your mother. “He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.”

“You will do no such thing,” your mother steadfastly declared, ensuring the three of you were behind her.

“Stay your hand,” the King commanded as the Queen shook with rage, desperately looking between her husband and sworn protector. She reminded you of a deer cornered in a vast forest, listening to the distant howls of wolves closing in for the hunt.

“No, you are sworn to me!” she yelled, finger pointing to her chest indignantly. All waited for the knight to respond, the Lord Commander slowly bringing his hand to the hilt of his sword.

“Protect your brother,” your mother whispered, never straying her eyes from the Queen. Without further instruction, you stood before Luke, gradually backing him away from the group of people unnoticed. You understood Alicent would not hurt you, as did your mother. 

“As your protector, my Queen,” Ser Criston replied with a wary head tilt.

“Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?” your grandfather declared, seething, his face centimeters away from his wife before he addressed the room. “And let it be known that if anyone’s tongue dares to question, the birth of Rhaenyra’s children should have it removed.” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, you let go of Luke, coming to take your place beside your mother as she thanked the King. The unsheathing of a blade cut through the room as the form of Queen Alicent charged toward your family, startling you, the King’s ancestral dagger in her grasp. Luke screamed as she reached the four of you, but your mother stepped in her path before Alicent could enact her rage. 

Suddenly, a person shoved into you, disregarding your existence as you found yourself on the floor. You noticed how the stone seemed to ebb and wave like the flow of the tide. Lord Corlys appeared beside you, lifting you into his arms, securely bound around your torso as he took you into the circle of your cousins and brothers, your mother struggling against the Queen. 

“You’ve gone too far!” your mother admonished the Queen as tears burned her eyes. She pushed against Alicent, and she jerked against her, trying to get to your brother.

“I?” Queen Alicent exclaimed, voice thick with anguish as you attempted to push out of your grandfather’s arms, kicking your legs into his side. “What have I done, but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, and the law while you flout to do as you please?”

“Alicent, let her go!”

The Queen still poised the dagger to strike, its new path being that of the heir to the Iron Throne as your mother looked helplessly to the onlookers. No one made to separate the two as they all stared in shock, the fire illuminating their faces like wraiths of death. Landing a hard smack to Lord Corlys’s neck, he dropped you as you shoved through the onlookers toward your mother. She put her life for yours and your brothers, but who would put hers before theirs? 

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? My happiness and dreams? It’s templed under your pretty foot again!” the Queen sobbed, her form trembling with hurt and rage, everything that she bottled inside her for years. 

“Release the blade, Alicent,” Lord Otto commanded, a man you hadn’t met until this morn, but she paid him no mind, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she pushed against her old friend. 

“Wasn’t taking her, my only light, enough for you? And now you take my son’s eye, and to that, you feel entitled,” she confessed, tears making the Queen’s mouth thick with wetness as you shouldered your way to the inner circle of people. 

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness,” your mother interrogated, a bitter grimace on her sharp lips. “But now they see you as you are.”

Alicent stared at your mother with an enraged offense that wrinkled her brows as she felt fire surge through her, and with a loud cry, she unthinkingly swung your family’s ancestral dagger. You screamed, running to your mother as you pulled her back, seeing a gash on her inner arm that gushed with blood. 

“Mama,” you wept, tenderly holding her limb as if it would break. 

Dropping the dagger, Alicent took an instinctual step toward you, a blanched, horror-stricken expression across her round face. She longed to go to you, to dry your tears and stroke your head against her bosom like your true mother would, but she could not. The terror and fear in your wide brown eyes that resembled her own sliced through her chest and laid her heart and soul bare as she felt a small hand slide into hers. The Queen hoped to see you standing beside her and thought herself mad before she securely took her son’s fist.

Much like you, Aemond knew his parent needed him. “Do not mourn me, mother. ‘Twas a fair exchange,” he expressed with a maturity beyond his years. He turned to you, a violet gaze once filled with joy now devoid, hollow, and one less eye. “I may have lost an eye but gained a dragon.”

You wished Aemond hadn’t claimed one this way and felt a hiccup wrack your lungs as you cried into your mother, Jace, and Luke coming beside you. You sadly realized this was the end of the fleeting companionship you cultivated with your uncle. All the stolen moments of reading, ideas, philosophies, and aspirations you shared under the cover of privacy were nothing more than air the moment he ran across the dunes. You would have still cared for him without a dragon, as before, but his pride wouldn’t allow it, and now he stared at you with an eye that you knew far too well. 

Aemond hated you. He loathed you and your brothers with a fire that would never cease. This was your fault. He lost an eye because of you—because he cared about his bastard niece and had the foolish dream of becoming the man you loved. You did not deserve it. You were nothing more than a common girl born from sin, undeserving of your station. He would despise you for the rest of his days no matter how his heart screamed to have you by his side when darkness fell and all that was left was the ghost of your touch. 

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Happiness never lasts in ASOIAF. I'm going to miss writing for baby Aemond and reader. They were so cute! From now on it's going to be messed up young adults with severe mommy uses and mental illness. I'm not going to say who has which XD. Thank y'all so much for reading and I hope to see y'all in the next chapter!

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[lieslab]

Nothing new

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: Minho finds you on the porch when the hurt from the issues your father gave you tends to bubble up and fizz over.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.3K

Trigger warning: Daddy issues, grief, depression, anxiety, mentions of physical violence and emotional abuse.

A/N: I forgot that I wrote a daddy issue post like a week or two ago because I have the memory of a goldfish. I haven't done a Minho drabble in a while and honestly, this was one hundred percent completely self-indulgent and I cannot lie about it. I was spiraling and this was what conjured up in the middle of my grief. I'm so sorry if you can relate, we deserve better <3

_ _ _

"Why are you hanging out here alone?” Minho plopped down beside you on the back wooden porch. 

You couldn’t remember how long you had been here. Maybe it was mere minutes or maybe it was more like hours. Time seemed to blend together out here and you let it. 

The sun was starting to set. It painted the sky with roaring reds and bright oranges. Streaks of clouds were beginning to fade further and further away into the distance. Soon the sun would set and the moon would begin to climb the darkened skies. 

“I’ve been calling your name for a while. I thought you were in our bedroom, but you didn’t respond. I even thought you were showering until I found the bathroom empty. I was starting to think you had been kidnapped or something.” 

You shrugged, “I’m just here.” 

“So what are you thinking about?” 

“Noth-” 

“Bullshit. You don’t turn into a recluse unless you’re truly struggling with something. You know that I’m not going to judge you, so what are you really thinking about?” 

“Everything all at once.” 

“Anything specific?” 

“Family.” 

His face softened at the mention of your family. Life with your family has been chaotic. He knew the stories, you always told him about them. More specifically, he knew the issues that you had with your father. 

“Daddy issues again?” 

“Or perhaps my brain is the issue.” You shifted and leaned back. Your legs hung down the descending stairs, but your upper half clung to the deck. “I just…I just wish I could stop making it a big deal. I wish things didn’t affect me so much. I wish actions and words would run off me like water instead of sticking.” 

“It’s not wrong to mourn the things you missed out on. I understand that it must be hard to deal with the cards life gave you. Everyone has struggles and yours just happens to be your father.” 

“You’d think it’d stop once you grow up.” 

He paused for a moment and his eyes went out to the backyard. Off in the distance, the shared vegetable garden bloomed. Bright grown plants flourished in every direction. Two white cabbage butterflies chased each other around and around. Soon they’d land on an outer cabbage leaf and begin to munch away without a care in the world. 

“I think realizing it when you get older makes it worse. You become aware of the injustice and hurt which causes a cognitive disconnect. It makes it cut that much deeper. You don’t have to feel bad for feeling something so natural.” 

“You know what the worst part is?” You finally got out. The sting of tears began to collect in the corners of your eyes. “He’s not even a good man. We’re talking about one of the worst people out there and yet I still feel myself chasing after him.” 

“The kind of person who picks strangers over his own children. The type who spends money on stupid things instead of the youngest child’s needs. The kind of person who has no issue yelling and screaming in someone’s face. The kind that lets their anger control them and make all the decisions.” 

“But yet…I keep chasing. I keep hoping and praying. I’ve started to talk to God,” a tearful snort fell from your mouth. “I don’t even know if I believe in him, but I’ve talked to him. I keep asking for a better father, but all I hear is silence.” 

“They say you should stay in contact with your parents because they’re your parents, but what if a parent is making you so stressed and upset, your hair falls out? What if it leads to sobbing and emotional distress? What if it leads to screaming and fighting? What if trying to love my father is what kills me?” 

Minho’s heart broke apart at your words. He knew it was bad and it had been for a while, but he didn’t know it was this bad. His hand instinctively reached out for yours. The warmth of his palm connected with yours and curled around your fingers. 

“And you know what the worst part is?” 

“Hmm?” 

“If I leave him, that’s it. He won’t change and try to become a better person. He won’t think about his actions and go out of his way to change. He’ll just point the finger and belittle me. Run my name through the mud to every family member. He’ll belittle me, turn me into an outsider, pull the curtain over everyone’s eyes again. He’ll always be the good father in his eyes and I’ll just become another asshole that did him wrong. Just like the hundreds of other people that he once upon a time knew.” 

Narcissism was deadly for some. Too much of an ego and too much self-imposed-importance left people craving attention. No matter whose character they had to rip apart, they’d do it. Whether that meant belittling them to everyone they knew, screaming at them, or even assaulting them. 

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. 

All the attention had to be swallowed by them. Like some sort of powerful sun, the rays never knew how brightly they burned. Any ounce of criticism was a pot of boiling hot water. 

The huffs and puffs. The finger in your face. The yelling and screaming as spit flew everywhere. The broadening rage that seemed to fill the room without a single sound. The angry marching from them as you tiptoed along on eggshells. Just when you let out a breath, they snapped and lashed out. 

You didn’t have time to react before you became a victim of another episode. Another rage fest where things went flying. When the refrigerator door slammed shut so hard that the shelves full of condiments shook. The way that cupboards were dented from the force of wood slamming against wood. 

Your dad would always be your dad, but he’d never be a good father. You could cry and cry and cry. You could cry enough tears to create an ocean, but it’d never be enough to wash the hate out of your father. That realization caused your heart to break apart. 

Your biological father would never love you, at least, not the way you loved him. Your chasing was starting to slow down. You could spend a few more years chasing his love and begging on your knees for it, but when was the last time your father said he loved you? 

When was the last time you were your father’s child? When was the last time that your father seemed to give a shit about you? Did he know your favorite color? Did he know the songs that caused your heart to boom with adrenaline? 

Better yet, did he know something as simple as your birthday? Does he know or does he laugh as he asks you because it’s not such a big deal to him? So when he hands you a card from the dollar store with his name, does it feel just as worthless as his love for you? 

“Is it wrong to want to be loved?” 

“Never. It’s never wrong to be loved and I’m sorry you don’t have that kind of love. If you want me to, I’ll share my father with you.” 

“I haven’t even met your father.” 

“Oh, I was talking about Bang Chan.”

“Minho!” You leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. Before you could reach it, he jerked out of reach. His hand grabbed your wrist and he jerked you closer. 

“Hey!” 

Your annoyance instantly dissolved the moment his lips met yours. Your body relaxed and you began to kiss him back. At this moment, none of your father’s lack of love mattered. Right now, you had this and what a fool you’d be to ever give it up.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

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[lovecried]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋˚ ONE KISS AWAY FROM LOSING YOU!

THIS JUST IN . . . nanami kento has been caught booking a hotel room with a mystery person. we couldn't capture a clear photo of the person, but it's definitely someone not in the royal family's caliber. who could it be?

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, nanami kento, angst & sexually explicit | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 2100 words.

╰┈➤ prince!nanami kento, afab!reader (she/they), nickname: love/my love, secret relationship, pleasure dom!nanami, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, praise, not proofread.

( author's note. ) while writing this, i thought of the song, like i'm gonna lose you by meghan trainor featuring john legend. and honestly, that's the entire vibe for this fic.

A SECRET ROMANCE BREWING? NANAMI KENTO CAUGHT WITH A MYSTERY BEAUTY!

By Gojo Satoru | Sunday, May 5, 2024 | 01:30 PM EST

While the past few months have been a bit lackluster when it comes to the Nanami’s, this week I���m happy to report something very enticing to our readers’ eyes. Just two days ago, the young prince, Nanami Kento, was seen entering the extravagant hotel, the Renaissance, with a hand clutching onto his forearm. Not dressed in his usual pristine attire, I nearly missed him, but I’d  recognized those bulking arms and stark blonde hairs from anywhere. (It was also his signature round glasses that gave him away.) 

The mystery beauty by his side, however, was able to keep a much more discrete profile. With a hoodie on, they kept their heads down as they entered the beautiful hotel. With some dignity and honor, I had left the two alone to enjoy their time together (and because the prince is quick on his toes), but it’s no doubt what they’re going to do. Nanami Kento is regularly discussed as a man that goes by the books. Rarely shed in any negative light— minus the rumors that he’s a stuck up snob and thinks highly of himself— people have been speculating when this clean streak of his would come to an end. I’m just happy I’m the one to document it. 

For more news on the world of the royals, rich and famous, please subscribe to our newsletters or download our app through Gyomei Plays for a discounted price of $0.15/month. Get sizzling news on not just the Nanami family, but hear on what Duchess Maki is up to and about her solitary confinement after murdering the majority of her family after the passing of her late twin Zenin Mai, or snoop into rising Indie artist, Geto Suguru, and how his new album is turning out. I hope to bring you more tantalizing articles very soon. (Hopefully unveiling the mystery partner of ex-goody-too-shoes Nanami Kento.)

—

MAY 3, 2024

Nanami Kento has never been in love before. Has never allowed himself to. He knew that this life he was born into wouldn’t allow for it. Keeping his heart chained and locked, he couldn’t quite understand just how you managed to find the key. And his mind couldn’t wrap around the idea of just how easily he had given in to you. 

Is it because of your glistening smile that your eyes and lips that you did when he first met you? A simple waitress that was doing their job in the fancy restaurant that his parents had reserved a table for. His parents had requested for the best and in return, had gotten you. The dark bags under your eyes was enough evidence of your exhaustion, yet you kept such a relaxed yet kind tone even when his parents were snipping at you. They could never be satisfied. 

Is it your voice and how you carried such a melodic laugh? He had made a comment about one of the choices on the menu, making a snide remark about oysters and just how he couldn’t escape them. It was under his breath. Truthfully, he didn’t expect you to hear it, but you did and you had let out the cutest laugh with a subtle snort at the end that led his parents to grimace. However, the two corners of his lips had curved upwards and he started showing more interest.

Is it because even in dim lighting, you still managed to shine? That while he broke his internal promise with himself as he got to know you, no matter where the two of you went, you managed to be the center of attention is his mind? From renting out places for the day to spend time with you to booking hotel rooms to enjoy the night in each other’s arms, he’s come to memorize every course of your body. He’s memorized every curve and every angle that he needs to put you in for the light to hit just right to continue to make you flourish. 

Even in moments like this, where he’s checked the both of you in and has led you upstairs. Making a few wrong turns before arriving at the room and hastily opening the door, where he gently pushes you on the bed and captures you with the length of his body. He switches on the bed lamp because he wants to see you. He wants to look into your eyes as he breaks his promise over and over again, falling deeper for someone that he knows that in the end, he’ll have to let go.

—

No matter how habitual it is, you find yourself giggling into the gentle and feathery kisses Nanami places on your lips. And no matter how habitual your giggling is, Nanami can’t help but peer down at you every time you do so. The way your nose would scrunch together as your small laughs make his heart race. From small pecks to elicit more sounds to swallowing them up and dragging a moan out of you instead. One hand that caresses your face while the next holds onto your waist, traveling down to unbutton your pants. Loosening its grasp, Nanami dips his hands between the hem of your pants and underwear, feeling your bare skin against the palm of his hands. Your stomach tenses with anticipation as you continue to kiss him back.

Your hands tangle into his blonde locks, squirming underneath Nanami as he nears your core. Yet, he stops right as he’s a mere centimeter away, dragging his hand out and gripping onto the fabric of your bottoms. You whine despite his tugging against your clothes, wanting the touch of his fingers against your cunt— to feel his thick digits stretch your tight walls. Just the thought alone has your arousal seeping through the crotch of your underwear as your hips forcibly rise above the sheets as Nanami pulls off the tight-fitted pants. 

“God,” he huffs. “As much as I love these on you, I hate the trouble I’m going through to remove them.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re not as strong as you look, big boy,” you jest, gently jabbing at his chest; his still clothed chest that vibrates as he chuckles. And while he might say your smile is glistening, his is your entire world. Such a stoic man portrayed by the media, you consider every chance you get to make him smile a blessing. Just as hard as Nanami’s falling hard for you, you’re trapped in the clutches of how strong your love for him is as well. You yearn for him just as much as he does— if not more. 

It’s not because of his socioeconomic status within society. It’s because of his brown eyes that are like a hot cup of coffee. Piping hot as just one sip will rejuvenate every bone in your body, giving you the energy to keep going. When you stare into them, it’s as if your lifespan has extended exponentially. He’s given you life. That itself is all the power that you need.

So attentive and genuine with each and every action he makes. You don’t care about the price tag listed upon every gift he’s given you, but the practicality and meaning each of them have. He’s listened to you, followed all of your “pointless” ramblings about the things you like and dislike. He’s shown interest in all of your hobbies and quirks, and in return you do the same. And whether or not you both end up liking it, you both enjoy the quality time spent together. Because who knows how long this will last.

“You’re right,” Nanami chuckles in agreement. “I’m always weak when it comes to you.”

You shutter before whispering, “I hate how you can make something so corny sound so seductive.”

With yet another chuckle, he leans down; his lips ghost yours. “I try.”

—

You’ve come to realize that Nanami is a relentless man. Two strong hands that have your legs pinned up and pressed to your chest. A painful and compromising position, your muscles ache as your pussy is exposed all for Nanami to inspect. Brown eyes that seem captivated and mesmerized by how your juices have clung to your folds, making your cunt shine like porcelain. You crane your head to look down at him, gnawing on your bottom lip as you watch his thumb press down on your clit.

Your heart beat rises, pattering heavily against your chest as you watch the man dip lower to taste your pussy. A chaste kiss planted before his tongue teases and prods at your hole. A hum that reverberates against his chest as he instantaneously decides— delectable. His lips that pucker around your clit, sucking on your dark nub as your mouth falls open and your head falls back. Your toes curl as you feel Nanami knead at the skin of your thighs while simultaneously eating away at you. His eyes have fluttered shut to further savor your taste. 

His tongue explores your caverns and you pulsate around the feeling, closing your eyes shut to engrave this moment in your soul. You mewl and whine, calling out his name in such prosody.  Your hands travel to tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging at them as your pleasure grows stronger. Nanami grunts at the pain you cause. 

Eyes opening, you peer down at Nanami, watching how his muscles flex and contract as he holds you down. How he has his face buried between your legs as he laps up your pussy with an insatiable need. He barely comes to a stop before one of his hands leaves the comfortable position of holding you up to slot in between your lips. Two thick digits that glide in between your folds, collecting your juices before prodding right at your entrance. You clench needily as you wait in anticipation for the stretch they’re going to give you. Mewling out his name “Kento” in such a way before your grip on his hair tightens. You don’t have to say anything else. The tone in your voice is all that he needs to decipher what you want— you want more. And Nanami Kento is always too willing to give you whatever you want. He’d give you the world. 

Two knuckles deep into your pussy, the juices of your cunt seeping into the fabric that Nanami feels bad for the maid that’ll be left to clean up their sex-induced mess. You squirm in his hold, back slightly arching despite the hold he has on you with one arm. His fingers thrust in and out of your sex, unrelenting as he’s determined to bring you to yet another orgasm. Such a messy process unbefitting for a prince, but the lust tinting his eyes lets you know there’s no going back from this. 

“Kento,” you cry out, feeling his fingers curl inside you. Your swollen clit is still in the mouth of a dragon as he claws at the insides of your walls. “‘S too much! Please— please!”

Your words say one thing while your body says another. Your hands push him closer to your mound despite your squirming, an internal battle that you’re having with yourself. And sometimes he’s convinced himself that only he knows just what you need. He breaks away for a moment, lust-blown eyes with your slick coating the bottom half of his face. Nanami says, “it’s okay. I know you can take it. I know you take whatever I give you.”

His voice dips, becoming deeper than it already is. It has your stomach coiling as you feel that familiar heat as your nails dig into his scalp. Against your pussy, he breathes, “Fuck.”

“‘M g’nna— I’m—” 

Nanami coos, silencing you as your lips tremble. “Shhh… It’s okay, love. I got you.”

Your mouth goes dry, only able to croak out a few undecipherable noises before you’re cumming against his tongue. Nanami laps up your taste, cleaning you up with the pink muscle inside his mouth. When you come down from your high, your voice trembles as you mutter, “Kento, I love you.”

His heart pounds against his chest. While not the first time you’ve said this, it still elicits this reaction. He stammers, not because he doesn’t mean it, but because he does, too. He’s just got too much. “As do I, my love.”

—

“Y’feel so good,” Nanami breathes in the crevice of your neck, hips thrusting back and forth as your moans and whines fuel the room. “You always feel so good.”

His once perfectly kempt is now messy, hanging over as he rises from the crook of your neck. A hand comes up to caress your face as his brown eyes meet yours, staring at each other with such heavy longing. “Gosh, you’re so beautiful.” Your eyes crinkle, welling up with tears that threaten to spill. You can’t quite identify the reason for them. Are they for this overwhelming amount of love or is it for the fear of the future? “So are you, my prince.”

・SIDE NOTE: nanami as a prince ? hicks & sniffles in one breath, goes feral and bat shit crazy in the next. im not well.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Thirst For Blood

Pairing: Azriel x Reader.

Summary: What happens when you finally escape one prison, only to be locked in another for merely surviving...

Warnings: Mentions of slavery and torture (nothing descriptive). Blood (ig)

A/N: This is probably my longest writing yet. I'm so proud of myself for this one. I tried writing in 2nd POV after the results of survey done by @leafsandstarlight so i apologise in advance if the povs change suddenly mid sentence. I did my best to edit out the mistakes but if there are some left still, do tell me and I'll correct them right away. I love this one and I hope you do too. 🫶💕

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The soft cracks of fallen twigs fills the silence spread across the forest. The wounds on your bare feet had finally stopped flowing blood. It didn't really mattered though, considering you were covered with it.

The streaks of dried blood coming out of your mouth lined all the way down to your chest, soaking through the torn material. The dress shirt and pants you had stolen from your very first kill had been ruined, having constantly walked for weeks. Covered with dirt and blood that now appeared dark brown.

You didn't know where you were going, only that you had to keep walking, running away as far as you can from the place you left behind.

You saw something move behind you and froze. You turned and held your breath, looking around, hoping for an animal or something to jump up and attack you. After what felt like ages but was probably a minute, your shoulders sag in relief when you didn't see anything unusual.

You turned to continue down your path but gasped when you saw a male right in front of you. Tan skin with black short hair atop his head, adorned in leather and blue stones. Not normal stones, you realized, Siphones.

You hadn't even had a chance to think about what to do now, before he twists his wrist at your direction and a black shadow comes out in a blur, hitting you on your forehead hard enough for the world to turn into darkness in you eyes and you fall unconscious.

-☆-

Azriel paced around the dark room, frowning at the females body asleep on the floor in front of him. The shackles around her hands and legs were bound to prevent her from running or pulling any tricks when she wakes up. It's been hours since he brought her here and imprisoned her, he realized. And she still hasn't woken up.

He has been trying to catch her for a long time, longer than what it normally takes him to find his targets. The creature that's been killing fae left and right. Draining every drop of blood from her victims and leaving the bodies for everyone to find.

She's been moving from one Court to another without leaving any trace of who or what she is. Never letting anyone predict her next move. It has thrown every Court into a spiral, not know what kind of creature has been killing their people everyday.

Azriel has been searching for the monster–her for a while. It took him a lot more time then it should. Always coming up blank while predicting what she was and what it's–hers next move would be. He was starting to question his position as the Spymaster, starting to feel ashamed every time he couldn't give Rhys the information he needed even though Rhys assured him multiple times that it's alright.

But now he knows.

He finally has the answer to all his questions. Finally found the only thing that kept him awake long into the nights, wondering why he couldn't perform his best this time. He felt as if he could finally breath freely again, without feeling abashed.

But as he watched her for hours, waiting for her to wake and using that time to observe her. How peaceful she looked and her calm features and clothes made him question himself, again. He's started to feel agitated. Maybe he made a mistake. Maybe she isn't the one he was after, all this time. But the one thing that stopped him from releasing her was the dried blood on her body. It seemed almost black from the darkness of the dungeons.

The wind in the room moved when a dark cloud formed and Rhysand stepped out. The energy in the room calmed to an eeire silence before he looked at Azriel and raised an eyebrow,"Still not awake?".

The shadowsinger shaked his head and sighed,"I don't know what's wrong. I didn't hit her with much force, just enough to make her faint for a few hours."

Rhys hummed and moved towards her sleeping form, staring at her for a few minutes before crouching down, raising a hand and placing it down on her head.

-☆-

You woke up with a startle and let out a small yelp at the sight of a male touching you. You scrambled back going as far as you can before your back hits a wall, breathing loud and fast while switching your gaze between the two male in front of you.

The one who was crouched in front of you stood and moved back, standing beside the male that was already stood with his hands crossed. Wait. You've seen him. He is the one that took you from the forest, the one with siphones straped to his body, seven siphones, you counted. They glowed so bright in the darkness. You forced yourself to look at your surroundings. A small room with four walls, a window on one of them and a metal door on another. A table in the middle on which a siphone–less male was now leaning against.

Your hands felt heavy when you tried to lift them, looking down and feeling the weight of the shackles locked on your hand and legs. The chains on them were small, enough to stand but not run. The air left your lungs and you felt like blood drained from you body when you realized where you were.

A torture chamber.

No no no.

Not again. You had just got out of one. You refuse to be locked up again. Anger filled your body as you looked up at your captures and snarled. "Release me!" You demanded.

The siphon male narrowed his eyes while the other's lips thinned in a straight line. The disappointment clearly displayed on both of their faces.

"No." Said the narrow eyed. And before you could speak again, the other one extended his hands as though calming a wild beast and said,"How about we start with introductions? I'm Rhysand, the High Lord of Night Court." His then pointed at the siphoned one,"This is Azriel, The Spymaster of Night Court." He gave a gentle smile which you knew was fake and asked,"And you are?"

Rhysand. Azriel. The High Lord and Spymaster. Night Court. Prythian. Right. I am in Prythian.

Your expression soften and eyes widen when you realized how far you've travelled. You were at the very top Court of Prythian. Did you really walk all the way through the continent without even realizing it?

Rhysand cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows in a silent demand to answer him. You swallowed a lump, wincing when you felt your throat sore and scratchy from dryness. You opened you mouth and told them you name, feeling a lot calmed then you did a minute ago. Rhysand's eyes widens as he looks at you as if he hadn't expected you to answer. "Will you answer a few of our questions?" You nod slowly.

"First of all. What are you?" You frown upon hearing his question but then relax looking at him. Of course he doesn't know.

"I'm a Vampire." You answered. Both their faces shocked and you sigh. Feeling the weight of your life on your shoulders. Azriel composes himself the next second but the High Lord's mouth still agaped a for longer than a minute.

"That's not possible. Vampires aren't real, they're a folklore created by ancients to scare the younglings." It's Azriel that says it this time, shaking his head in disbelief. His voice oddly comforting and you lean your head against the wall closing your eyes for a second. "And even if they were, they are extinct. They haven't been seen in a Millennium."

"So were Seers. But they came back too, didn't they? Even if only one." You open my eyes and raise an eyebrow.

"Yes. And im not going to ask how you know that but that's because a female was thrown into the cauldron and it gave her powers." Rhysand states.

"Exactly." You say. "The cauldron made her a fae and gave her powers, along with her sister. And I know because I've heard about you, high lord. The one who stole Spring's wife." You laugh softly. "It's absured what they say about you."

Rhysand's jaw clench.

"Calm down. I'm not making fun of you." You gave an apologetic expression.

"How are you a vampire? Have you been hiding all this time?" Azriel winces as he says, probably cringing at how crazy his words sound.

"Couldron made me a Vampire when I was pushed into it. Since I was already fae, I became the creature who feeds on blood to live. I was transformed in hybern, been made one of the King's experiments." You explain. They both frown in confusion and share a glance while you close your eyes and rest yourself against the cold, hard wall, the exhaustion of your journey finally hitting you at once.

"How did you get here?" Azriel questioned.

"I used my powers."

"What, exactly, are your powers?" It's was Rhysand this time.

"Compulsion. I can compell anyone to do anything I want."

"Is that how you hid yourself? Killing or compeling the people, who saw you?"

You finally straighten your neck, giving them your full attention and raise an eyebrow. "Isn't it obvious? I compell the people to forgot they saw me." Rhys' body tenses as that. "You can control minds?" His calm tone shealing the panick and anger behind it.

"Not exactly minds. I can control your consciousness by looking into your eyes and ordering you." They shared a glance, unsure to believe you or not.

"Don't think im telling the truth?" You tilt my head towards the shadowsinger. "I can show you." Azriel assessed you cautiously and nodded once.

You peered into his yellow onyx eyes, the gold flickering in them can be seen clearly even from the distance between you both. Concentrating on energy thuming beneath your mind, your iris' expand as you give the order,"You'll do as I say."

His face cleared of any feelings, his expression bland as he repeated,"I'll do as you say."

"Take off my binds." You lift your hands and the corner of you lips quirk up.

His eyes widen,"No!" He exclaimed but his feet moved on their own, seeming as if they were they're own person. He stopped in front of you and sat on his toes, hands moving to your restrins. "What the fuck?" He barked.

"Azriel stop!" The High Lord ordered, stepping behind him and held onto his shoulders, trying to get him away from you. Azriel didn't budge.

"Stop." You spoke, pulling your hands back toward you before he actually opened your chains. Azriel stood and took a big step away from you, finally in control of himself. He and Rhysand breathing hard, staring at you in disbelief. "Believe me now?"

A moment of silence passed, no one speaking anything before Rhysand cleared his throat,"How–," He shaked his head slightly. "When did you became a vampire?"

"I'm not quite sure of the time. All I know is that when you killed the king, I ran and came here." You shrug.

"Tell us everything." He ordered, the traces of a gentle man gone, leaving only the authority of a high lord. "You said 'experiment'. What do you mean by that?"

"You don't think he just threw the high lady's sister in there and hoped for the best did you?" Your lips thinned. "He tried it at first, obviously. Trying to see if his theory actually worked. Since he couldn't throw in humans, he bought fae slaves like me and drowed us in the Couldron. He drowned one fea at a time. The first two didn't survive but he didn't give up hope. When the third subject resurfaced, he was overjoyed. Thinking it finally worked but all that hope was destroyed when he crawled out of the Couldron and died a few minutes later.

The forth subject the same as before but the fifth survived. She came out a dragon, being able to exchange skin for scales and pikes, hands to wings, and breath fire when angry. The king locked her up and tortured her, trying to check how strong she was. She lived a full month but at the end died of bloodloss." You sucked in a sharp breath, preparing yourself for further.

"The sixth subject came out looking normal. But everyone quickly realized they had made a mistake calling her a fail when she looked at a person and that person turned stone. She was executed the second she turned the gaurd stone. I don't know details more than this because as I said we were never transformed at the same time. I heard all this in small pieces of information, listening to the guards that were stationed to my cell, talk.

I was the seventh subject. The only fae who was weak enough to torture and strong enough to keep alive. They beat us, burn us, and tortured us in ways I couldn't even imagine were possible. I had a better of it though because not long after I was turned, you killed that king in war. When I heard the he was dead and the castle was in mayhem, I ran. I ran and compelled my way out of Hybern and into Prythian, in hopes of finding a better life." You gave them a lopsided smile and sigh.

"You killed innocent people in the process. You murdered your way through our land." Azriel finally spoke and the look in his eyes as he looked at you was pure rage.

"I was weak. I was hungry. I couldn't control my hunger, I didn't know how to. When I fed on those people, I planed to just take a sip of thier blood and leave. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't control myself in the few killings. I would never kill a person on purpose. I never want to harm anyone. And after I was strong enough, I did learn to control. I fed, compelled and ran." You tried to explain yourself but it seemed clear he didn't believe you.

"You could've used your power to get out of here the second you woke up. Why didn't you?" He abruptly changed the topic. You swallow a lump.

"As I said, I don't want to harm anymore people."

You turned to the high lord and said,"I won't hurt anymore people. You have my word. I just want my freedom. A peaceful life is all I want." You plead.

"How do we know you're not lying?" Azriel asked in an irritated tone. I glaced at him and said to Rhysand,"You can look into my head. If you find that I'm laying, you can kill me right here and never let me walk out alive. I'll accept whatever punishment you give. I promise you I'm saying the truth." You considered begging at this point if it got you free.

Rhysand looked at Azriel, The two of them held each others gaze for a minute without saying anything, having an unspoken conversation. Your eyes skipped between them, confused because they weren't even blinking.

Suddenly, Rhysand turned to you, stepping near and put a hand on your head. He either didn't notice the dirt in your locks or didn't care. You gasped feeling a dark shadow within you soul, you winced and shut your eyes because it felt almost painful, not so much that you couldn't handle it but enough to steal you focus only to the shadow digging around your subconscious. Your body locked itself in the position you were sitting in. You couldn't do anything but sit there and let the high lord examine your thoughts.

After what felt like forever Rhysand finally stepped back and sighed. The relief of body finally back to your control almost made you drop to the ground but you kept yourself composed. Breathing heavy and looking up to the high lord, you raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him.

"She's telling the truth. She doesn't intent on killing anymore people." Rhysand informed Azriel and his face relaxes the slightest. "And as for your request," He told you,"Fine. I'll let you walk through Night Court," I couldn't control my smile. "But only on one condition." He raised a finger.

"Anything." You noded.

"Azriel will be with you at all times. Anywhere you go, anytime you go. He will be there. At least until we are sure to trust you won't harm our residence." Rhysand ordered and Azriel clenched his jaw.

"Alright!" You felt so happy, you could dance.

Rhysand and Azriel shared a worried glance, again but you were too in your own joyful world to realize. You are finally free. You closed your eyes and rested you head on the wall, the smile on your face refusing to go.

I am finally free.

-☆-

Azriel watched with skeptical eyes as you practically skipped through the road. You both were on your way to a small bakery Feyre had suggested.

When you were taken out of the dungeons, the High Lady of Night Court had arried there complaining how long her mate had been gone. Her eyes had widened when she took a look at you, worry clearing written in her expression. When the high lord and spymaster explained who you were and what your situation was, she immediately took it in her hands to get you comfortable.

It was weird, to be honest. You had never experienced someone being so kind and nice to you, treating you like you were important, like you mattered. Even before you were turned, your life was rough, being a slave waiting to be sold, it was expected. So yes it had been very weird.

You were transfered in a house built above a mountain. Rhysand said it was because Azriel lived there and you were always expected to be with him, but you knew the real reason. It was because the House of Wind had ten thousand steps, standing so high the if you ever tired to run, you wouldn't be able to go far without being caught or dead. But you didn't care because you never wished to run. Never wished to give them any reason not to trust you.

So you accepted your fate with a happy face. You met with High Lord's inner circle who were cautious with you, still are, but a little comfortable thsn before. You only met them once and are sure they all could kill you the second you did something wrong.

Everyday you walked with azriel around Valaris, going from one shop to another, learning the style and culture of people of Night Court. You were first a bit scared to do or touch anything in front of Azriel, not even speaking much but you have to admit, you got used to having him around. Finding him at every corner you turned to, watching you. After a while you tried to talk to him, making small talks about random things as you walk and surprisingly he replied to you everytime.

Azriel didn't understand how someone can be so annoyingly curious about everything. You looked at every person, every dish of food, every single thing with so much curiosity and happiness, it made him almost angry. The smile of your face hadn't left for a second since they released your shackles. It was like walking with a bubble full of pure contentness.

Your eyes widen in excitement as you pointed to a bakery in front of you. "There is it!" You took your hand in his and walked faster, almost ran to the door of the small shop. He opened the door and stepped aside to let you in first and closed it behind you both.

You smile impossibly wide as you take in the pink interior. A few tables spread across the left side of the shop with even fewer people sitting on them and the right filled with freezers that contained verities of sweets. From cakes and pastries to cookies and different breads, everything looked so delicious, you can't possibly choose what to taste first.

"Good morning darlings, what can I get you?" The lady behind the cash counter asked with a smile.

"I apologise but I can't decide. Why dont you suggest me something?" You gave a smile.

"Alright do you like chocolate?" She asked. You opened you mouth to reply but stop, trying to remember if you've ever tasted chocolate. You don't think you have. Well guess you'll if you like it now. "Sure." You smiled.

When the lady asked Azriel what he wanted he just said that he doesn't want anything. You both go to sit in one of the empty tables on the very left corner, taking the seat opposite to one another. There is a widow right next to you from which you glimpse at every person walking through the road.

While you observe outside the window, Azriel observes you, thinking how can anyone be so energetic all the damn time. He thinks of how you look so different than how he first saw you, covered in so much filth, and now your skin is as clear as water. Your eyes and lips so perfect, he can admire you for days without stopping. The one thing he's sure is amazing, is the joy in your eyes, he swears you could have the deadliest disease and still be happy.

He breath catches for a second when you turn to him, realizing he had just been caught ogling you. He expected you to frown in discomfort or turn to the other way trying to avoid him but he stopped breathing entirely when he sees you smile even brighter at him. The blush on you cheeks and sparkle in your eyes fading away the rest on the world around you.

His focus entirely on how breathtakingly beautiful you are.

The moment shatters when a girl in aprone comes in with a dish and places it between you both, muttering a small enjoy and going away, leaving them alone again.

"I've never had chocolate before. I'm not sure if I'll like it or not." You quietly admitted. Azriel tried not to let his surprise show as he digested the information. Of course you never had chocolate, you were a slave most of your life. He mentally rolled eyes at himself.

You picked up the spoon and scoped a small piece of the brown substance. You put it in your mouth and instanty let out a small moan at the taste. Sweetness explods in your mouth as you chewe, digging in for the rest of the cake immediately.

Azriel tried to ignored what that moan did to his body. He tried to suppress the smile itching to appear on his lips as he watched you eat the piece of cake in utter amusement. The chocolate covered you lips and you tounge poked out the lick in clean. You finished the cake and beamed at him. "One more, please?"

Azriel's lips turn up at the corner as he gestured the waiter for one more pastry. He noticed the end of your lips still brown. "You still have chocolate on your face." He stated and pointed at his own lips, trying to show the exact place. Your hand came up and wiped the opposite end. "Better?" You asked. He shaked his head. "The opposite." You wiped it almost cleaned but missed a spot. You raised you eyebrows, silently questioning him again.

He sighed and reached his hand to your face and wiped the rest clean. His fingers felt rough against your soft skin. You intake a sharp breath feeling fire ignited against your skin as he moved his hand back. He then pulls his thumb near his mouth and open his mouth to lick the chocolate off. His eyes held your gaze for a heated moment and you forgot how to breath.

The moment interrupted when the waiter came in again. Bringing in the second dish of chocolate cake you ordered, though before she could rest it on the table, someone pushed her, causing her to lose footing and drop the dish, shattering it to the ground. A hundred broken pieces of ceramic glass spread through the floor and she spoke out a curse. Bending down to pick up the pieces, she repeated apologises under her breath, but as she picked up one sharp pieces, the sharp edge cut through her skin and she instanty dropped it and gasped. The small cut deep enough to gush out a trail of crimson blood.

You tense as the smell of blood fills the room faster than anything. You close your eyes and try to control but the smell is so strong you feel hunger hit you all over your body. Azriel quickly stood up and grabed you, standing you up too as you both quickly get out of the shop, you running as fast as you can from the desire to feed on that poor girl until you feel her limp in your arms.

Azriel pulled you in a dark ally beside the walk way, placing your back against the wall and resting both of his hands beside your head. You press your eyes with both hands trying to think of something else, anything other then the beautiful scarlet liquid ready to be suck on just a few steps away.

"How are you feeling?" Azriel doesn't mention how he feels proud of you that you controlled yourself enough to get out after not drinking blood for so long.

"Hungry." You growl, trying to distract yourself by thinking.

"You need to distract yourself."

You scoff. "You think im not already trying." You snapped at him, not even in enough mindset to feel bad. Your head hangs low as you reach to your hair, pulling as hard as you can. Pain. Yes that's what's going to distract you.

Azriel licked his lips. "I have an idea but I'm not sure you'll like it." He whispered.

"I don't care if I like it not. If you have something to calm me then act on it!" You finally lowered your hands and glared at him.

Azriel felt speechless as he looked at you. Your irises glowed red and veins that coloured black and purple pulsed around you eyes. Your mouth in a snral, showing off you pointed canine that stood out proudly with sharpest edge amongst the other teeth. You looked deadly as though you could kill him this very second without a problem.

It made him want you even more.

Pushing every doubt out of his head he slam his lips to yours. You mouth open in a gasp and he used it to his advantage, pushing his tounge in your mouth. You returned the kiss with a sigh, pushing yourself into him, hands in his hair and tougne tied with his. His one arm wrapped around you waist and other behind you neck pushing your head upwards to deepen to kiss.

You both kept your lips to the other until what felt like forever. Finally pulling back and opening your eyes to find him already looking at you. The hunger you felt now was of a entirely different reason than before the kiss. The gaze you shared was a lot more than desire, it was raw and intimate.

You smirked at each other.

"I hope you liked that, because we are definitely doing that again."

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

if you still do them, is it okay you do like one shots with ROTTMNT boys and a little sibling reader?

but here’s the thing, the reader is a little pink gecko with yellow spots, they’re around 10 or 9 years old and can run just as fast as sonic the hedgehog and basically have the energy of a golden retriever, they’re like a tiny dragon and it’s adorable yet SO. FREAKING. EXHAUSTING!!

❝ pink bubbles and banana laffy taffy!! ❞

₊˚꒰🥞꒱‧ — 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!𝐠𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

｡˚ 𓂋 🍋﹒✦﹒✿ ˚

❝l ɑׁׅ֮/ꪀׁׅ : okay i had to squeeze this one out because OHMIGOSH it is SO. CUTE!!!! i literally got soso excited when i read this because how did you know i'm legitimately obsessed with geckos?! 😭 i literally downloaded picsart to make that collage and wrote this in the span of a day or two because i got so excited aausghshdh !! fluffybun24, fluffy, darlin'. grips your shoulders and brushes your cheek tenderly. thank you. also, i'm just now realizing you asked for one shots after the fact ajsjjhd I AM SO SORRY I DIDN'T REALIZE UNTIL AFTER RE-READING IT after writing this whole thing out XD DX but foremost, i must tell you that i mostly do my fandom writing in headcanon/reaction formats !! :(( one shot(s) aren't really my forte . . . albeit, i do hope this is just as good !! o7

(honorable mention: @agentturtlecupcake *HARSHLY NUDGES YOU* HEY. HEY LOOK. LOOKLOOKLOOOKLOKKOKLOKOOOKKLLOOOOOOOK. IT'S the, k-KID-🩷💛)

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ oh my goodness me, you are the simultaneous love and light, the bane and exhaustion, of everyone's respective lives.

don't get me wrong, your family absolutely adores you!!

especially since you're :(( the baby :(( aww :(((

it just, kinda freaks everyone thafuq OUT when you zip and zoom and flash everywhere

just. a maniacal streak of pink and yellow.

they don't know peace because of you. (affectionate!)

like they will be mindin' their whole business in its entirety and here you come

"*walks into the main living room* heeeeeyy, anybody seen my jupiter jim issue— [*nyooom!*] SWEET MOTHER OF G O D–"

it's not like you ever have ill intentions, tho 🥹 so it's okay.

"they're cute so it's okay!" — all of your siblings at one point, probably

while they do accept your golden retriever tendencies, it be givin' them gray hairs fr 💀✋

especially because you're so f a s t

you're there one moment then next thing they know you're halfway across the entire lair, tittering and chirping happily away.

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ so, over the course of your life, they've all developed their own designated role when keeping up with you:

raph . . .

being the oldest definitely feels the most responsible for you and acts on it! he himself has developed a sixth sense for when you zoom by and can catch you with (relative) ease every time, and has definitely saved your butt from like. accidentally crashing into a wall or smth sjsjsj

but big bubba can't prevent everything :\ so you have gotten some owies !!

but you can always count on him to be there to help you feel better.

he's your biggest bro 🥹 he always makes you feel better.

but i imagine u're also a maniacal little shit (*cough* thanks leo *COUGH*)

so sometimes you just, str8 up run away from him like ACTIVELY escape his grasp

it deffo takes some effort 😮‍💨 (petition : #saveraphfromhissiblings /lh)

"[NAME]?! Get back here, you little speed monster!!"

*cue toiny baby gecko squealing and The Daily Chase commencement*

oh yeah. it's a daily occurrence.

you stress him out 🤣😭 but it's okay. :))

(after catching you in his hands, holding you up to eye level): "Alright, you little goober. That's enough outta ya today." "But Raaaaph!!"

and then you can't really do anything because raph knows your sweet spot, your little switch, that melts you like putty - a little patch riiiight in the center of your upper back, a well-pressurized scritch is all it takes really, and oh. there we go. down for a nap !

however you simply must have your grand rebellion moments and give him arm gummy bites the entire time but he's the just personification of "😇😌"

ain't no doubting he loves you tho. adores you, really; your bright bubbliness is what makes him smile most days, and even tho your energy is a bit much for him to keep up with, and he'd really like it if you stopped fighting him for afternoon naps sometimes, i don't think he'd change it for the world.

leo . . .

is one who's fairly on par with your hyperactivity, so he's the one we all turn to when your excitement is bubbling over into something a liiiiittle too much :'))

playing tag when you're zooming to and fro is one of you guys' favorites.

but sometimes he doesn't play fair and uses his odachi to teleport >:((

and if you get genuinely upset, he just scoops you up and blows raspberries on your soft lil tummy.

he's the only one who can wear you out so he's an essential part of everyone's lives asksksjd

but bc of this

HE PROBABLY USES YOU AS COLLATERAL TO GET THINGS HE WANTS I'M NOT EVEN PLAYIN

"LEO!!! Ugghhghhh, can you please handle them?!"

"Mmmhmmmmmmm....."

"L E O ಠಗಠ! For the last time, you are NOT choosing for movie night tonight and the kind of pizza!! You've had it all week!!!"

"Ohh, suddenly I have no capability for one very specific baby cotton candy-banana pudding gecko..... Shame. Woeful, horrible, terrible, shame—"

"LEO!!!"

he's a jerk, but he's highkey your idol and he would give the entire world for you in a heartbeat, so :))

donnie . . .

acts like your hyperactivity is an inconvenience...... but in reality, he doesn't mind it.

(only when it compromises his tech. you've only had one to two incidents involving his lab before permanent damage control was done and it's been this way ever since. 😭✋)

sure, sometimes your wild nature can make him cringe on bad days, but what's a sibling if they don't get tired of your antics once every while?

it's healthy development !!

plus. he himself has his moments where his lowkey descent into madness shows its peak, so he can't really talk.

you've all got your quirks, y'know? (/ref)

in truth he accepts it as a part of you, and he loves all of you - i mean c'mon, you're his baby sibling.

and even tho he doesn't openly admit it nearly as much as the rest of your family - he really does think you're adorable.

and in more truth: donnie takes care of you a lot. like- as soon as you started showing signs of your speediness and just-consumed-five-bags-of-candy excitement levels, he completely baby proofed the lair 😭

and you can't tell me he didn't know you'd possess those superhuman levels of speed bro you CAN'T

that man is a scientist and he leaves no stone unturned, especially when it comes to his family.

he has you microchipped too sjjsjdh

[ i just thought of this just now, actually: he and leo are a team when it comes down to your genetics/biological health. donnie researches with his stem-augmented brain and studies your dna down to the very microfiber; leo adapts with his medical affinities to make sure you're the healthiest little gecko mutant kiddo you can be. <3 ]

WE MAY HAVE MADE FUN OF HIM AT THE MOMENT, because how much harm can one baby gecko do Donnie you silly fool honhonhonhon BUT HE'S THE ONLY 👏 ONE 👏 WHO CAME IN CLUTCH.

very much "who's laughing now?"

certainly donnie. my bet's on donnie.

"THEY ALL LAUGHED. THEY CALLED ME A SILLY FOOL. BUT FEAST YOUR EYES, BRETHREN. EATETH THY WORDS!!" "..... Raphie! Bonbon's doin' that crazy scientist shtick again!!" "[NAME]. >:("

on another note, i feel donnie would extend that branch of 'baby-proofing' and relate it to the gift he created for you. [ ref: s1/ep2 — "donnie's gifts" ]

maybe it was something like . . . a malleable sludge, some sort of putty, that melded perfectly over your legs whenever you were starting to get too speedy.

you were initially excited over the cute little metal band anklets gifted to you by your older brother, buuut once it activated .... :((

it made you big sads. :((

being a little speedykins was your most defining trait !! why would donbon try to take that away from you?? :(( donnie :((( donbon why :(((

.... what you don't know, (and me either tbh, we never got that 'explanation' from the inventor himself), is that donnie made it with your specs in mind.

geckos are able to climb vertical surfaces (with some exceptions of course, but for the most part !!) — when activated, those little "putty bands" would've aided in that.

because donnie knows how much you love to run around, especially climbing up the walls, but you can't stick up there forever.

was it made to simultaneously slow your ass down? yes. 🤣😭

(he's only one man what do you want from the poor guy ☠✋ your drive by's were enough to send him into cardiac arrest every time)

...... was it made to adhere to nearly any and every surface texture known to man & mutant kind? for an unprecedented amount of time? with the intentions of you having so much fun with it? also yes.

was it made with intricate care and with, overall, your best interests at heart?

yes.

but after the whole ordeal, he really did mean it when he says you're great just the way you are. :))

in your calmer moments, he likes to have you wrap around his shoulders like a fashion designer scarf and taps at your cute little tail, half as a stim, half as a gesture of affection, while he's in the lab focusing on his latest project

or even just. vibing. y'all are primetime vibey.

he finds your weight comforting. like a tiny weighted pillow.

and he'll never admit that he feels his heart nearly burst with love and pure fondness when you yourself happily curl up into your brother and fall asleep there, cooing softly into his ear.

he built a little comfort bed/pillow extension for you in his battle shell for such occasions <3

but he prefers the sibling cuddles without his shell on.

he trusts you, after all.

(i will never financially recover from this aksjddh SOBBING)

mikey . . .

is exceptionally good at matching all of your moods: your bubbly hyperactivity and bringing you to a calmer, serene state !!

how does he do it. 🧍

he catches you in his arms and strokes/scratches your back to calm you down, and it works like a charm every time !

he never has to use dr. delicate touch on you. despite being the closest in age, surprisingly, you listen to mikey very well !

call it survivor's intuition 🫠 orrrr just the fact that you and mikey are very close and in-tune with one another,

whenever he calls it quits for you - no matter how much you might whine and pout - you genuinely do tone it down.

i know i said this for leo too but i feel like mikey just has that magic touch. yenno?

no pun intended. ha.

but en ee wayz !! yusssss, mikey and [name] are the cutest little goobers.

y'all deffo get roped together being the "babies" of the family,

and despite mikey wanting to outfit that mold — mostly by means of appeasing to raph's overprotective tendencies — he babies you a bit too !!

you like to poke fun. you're observant, clever little thing. you call mikey out on it, going so far as to call him a hypocrite,

and whether you guys have a serious discussion or not is completely up to you !

but for the time being he just pets your head and affectionately tells you to hush, and keeps right on babying you.

he likes being your older brother !! so sue him !!

dynamics change the older you guys get =] so who knows what the future has in store?

you're one of his favorite muses. your color palette never fails to strike inspiration within him 🎨✨

when he catches your pink n' yellow blur in passing, he can come up with an entire idea for murals to tag around, don't play w him

he likes to do body paint on you too !! :))

(completely safe + free of harmful chemicals wbk)

probably makes flowers out of your polka dots (he definitely calls them that) or connects them to make a bigger picture.

he made an entire field of flowers and koi fish pond encompassing your back one time and you absolutely loved it.

you'll always be his little muse 💔

"[Nameeee]!!~ C'mere, polka dot! You wanna see if I can make a constellation this time?" "YAY!!!!" "Wait- waitwaitWAITWAIT SLOW DOWN—" [ *cue wii bowling ball strike sound sequence* ]

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ ahaaa. overall, you're their cute little ball of sunshine. their little sugar carnival. their little pink bubblegum and banana laffy taffy gecko baby! and — while you being.... you, can get just shy of unbearable sometimes, they wouldn't trade you for this world and all the others.

after all, what's a family if you don't accept every part of them? no matter how exhausting it is. <3 you're a handful, but that's why you've got six pairs. and as the years go on, it only grows.

@chachachannah + @sweetparty for the dividers 🩷 @cureqt for the cute emoji combo 💛 & pinterest for the pictures! [the collage is by me!!] 🥰

⟆ ˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ further author notes . . .

™ : as always, susceptible to future editing for grammatical/formatting corrections !!

i absolutely loveddd writing this!! and for the intricacy, this is the quickest i've ever pulled a request-bun fresh from the oven!! :o kudos to you, fluffy! <3 i do hope you like this as much as i did aaaa!! now i've got polka dot gecko sibling brainrot. 🥴 it's true: you never know it's a good idea until it's presented to you !!

a couple of fun facts: "sugar carnival" is a term coined by me, in reference to one of my free verse poems a while back! i, also, consider myself a sugar carnival being at most times ˶ᵔᗜ ᵔ˶ & i came up with the title on the spot after hearing + envisioning "pink gecko with yellow spots". ideal color combo, criminally underrated. fluffy your brain deserves a pedestal and i will personally create it for you with my bare hands.✋🩷💛

╰┈➤ tues. jan 23, 9:18 pm, '24.

[justmenoworries]

some unorganized thoughts about Vox and Valentino Hazbin Hotel

Spoilers For Hazbin Hotel episode 2

TW: Discussions and depictions of abusive relationships, sexual assault, extortion and financial abuse

So going by the promo material shown to us, a lot of fans seem to think that Vivzie has changed course on VoxVal and that it's going to be a much more healthy relationship than previously implied.

Not gonna lie, that disappoints me.

Because depicting an abusive romantic relationship with an imperfect and unexpected victim would have been extremely interesting. We already know Valentino is a piece of shit who doesn't care about anything but himself and profit.

The "Addict" music video and the prequel comic "Dirty Healings" make that very clear.

Valentino regularly assaults Angel, keeps Angel's earnings for himself and tries to keep Angel in the studio as long as possible, even getting angry when Angel goes out by himself. Even if it's to get money for Val.

And for all of his faults, it's very easy for the viewer to feel sympathy for Angel. Angel is a likable character who's been shown to have a much kinder side to him via his friendship with Cherry and him trying to comfort Charlie in the pilot after her pitch for the Happy Hotel flops.

Vox though?

Vox is slated to be a main antagonist. He's a fellow Overlord of Hell. Someone for whom it'd be much harder to believe that he'd let anyone treat him like Valentino treats Angel.

And yet...

To be fair, this artwork is from the in-character Instagram accounts, which were already confirmed as non-canonical. (The accounts themselves are sadly archived now due to some really messed up stuff that happened with the Octavia and Stolas accounts.)

Still, depicting Vox as one of Valentino's victims would have been pretty intriguing. It shows that this kind of thing can happen to anyone, no matter the gender or financial or social situation. It would also acknowledge that just because someone is a victim of abuse doesn't mean they're pure, innocent or weak. And that no matter the circumstances, no one deserves to be treated like Valentino treats Vox and Angel.

I'm honestly hoping that this aspect of the VoxVal relationship isn't entirely gone and I kinda think it isn't.

In episode 2 we see right off the bat that Vox doesn't really like Valentino. And it's easy to see why.

Valentino is a spoiled angry manchild with no self control. He needs Velvette and Vox to reign him in, otherwise he's going to do stupid shit like waltz up to the princess of Hell's doorstep with a gun in hand. Because he can't handle the idea that one of his employees is living somewhere he didn't approve.

If Vox hadn't stopped him and talked him out of it, Val would have gotten the VVVs into some serious shit. His violent streaks can also not be talked down completely, they need to be satisfied somehow. Vox needs to offer Val the lowest earners to shoot at and work out his aggression on or Val's going to continue to go on a rampage and most likely tear apart more of Velvette's models.

Speaking frankly, Valentino seems way more trouble than he's worth. Vox and Velvette appear to be doing all the work in their shared empire while Val just throws tantrums and forces them to go out of their way to calm him down.

So if that's the case, why do the other Vs puts up with Val?

In Alastor's and Vox' duet in episode 2, Alastor has this very interesting thing to say about Vox and his relationship to Valentino and Velvette:

"Is Vox as strong as he purports? Or is it based on his support? He'd be powerless without the other Vs."

What's also interesting is Val's and Velvette's reaction to it.

They're smiling. Like they agree.

Alastor also reveals that Vox was trying to get Alastor to join the Vs. Alastor declined.

Vox of course tries to deny all of that, but in the process gets so worked up he short-circuits himself and causes a city-wide blackout.

If Alastor is telling the truth here (and we don't really have a reason to believe he isn't), that puts everything in a whole new light.

Vox is he brains of the operation but is he also the only thing that's keeping it together? Val and Velvette don't really get along (Velvette insults Val behind his back, Val rips apart her models when he's angry) and both don't seem to respect Vox that much. Velvette lets him deal with Val's bad moods, Val doesn't hesitate to throw stuff at Vox when he's pissed (the fact that Vox nonchalantly dodges the glass Valentino throws at him implies this is not the first time). They both have a look of disdain on their faces when Vox hugs them during "Status Quo".

So why does Vox go to all this trouble to keep these two assholes in line if he doesn't really care for them and they in turn have no love for him?

Maybe for business reasons, but Vox already has a giant multi-media empire, right? So again, what does he need the other Vs for?

I think it has to do with Vox's need to be admired and liked and at the top.

See, another thing this episode tells us about Vox is that he's deeply, deeply, insecure.

He has a dozen different programs where he changes his outfits, approach and demeanor to cater to every single sinner possible, he throws out new business ideas on the fly so he'll always be the newest trend everyone follows. If something (or someone) comes up that cracks his cool confident businessman facade even a little he can't handle it and literally breaks down.

Really, Alastor puts it best:

"Is Vox insecure? Pursuing allure? Between this fad and that, is nothing working? Every day he's got a new format."

So Vox doesn't just want to be powerful and popular, he wants to be the most powerful and the most popular and his shows alone aren't going to cut it for that.

That's why he needs Velvette and Valentino. They provide the content that draws the viewers Vox so desperately craves. Without them he'd be all on his own, might lose large chunks of his viewership. And that's something I think Vox is deeply afraid of.

So no matter how little he might actually like them, regardless how shitty Valentino treats him, Vox needs these two. In his view at least, he can't afford to lose them.

[yawnderu]

Ghostface - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Kinktober Day 5 - Phone Sex

Not rlly satisfied with this one but I'm posting to keep the kinktober streak

''What's your favorite horror movie?'' A deep, unrecognizable voice asked on the other side of the phone as you were preparing popcorn, ready to have a horror movie marathon while your boyfriend was out. You hesitate before answering, an eyebrow raised as you think about your answer.

''Uh- I don't know. Who's this?'' You glance back at your phone screen, just realizing the call comes from a private number.

''I'll tell you yours if you tell me mine.'' The voice replied, and you can hear the shit-eating grin simply by his tone. You roll your eyes, hanging up as you focus on preparing the call, trying to think about something else besides the weird interaction. Halloween was near, so it was no surprise assholes were prank calling.

You move the popcorn bag around, making sure all the seeds can get buttered up and explode, the sound of your phone ringing again making you jump in surprise before hurriedly picking up, hoping your boyfriend finally found some free time to call you.

''What are you wearing?'' The accent sounds familiar, yet the voice changer he's using is making it hard to distinguish. Is he...?

''None of your business.'' You scoff, looking around your apartment just to make sure no one managed to break in, despite the fancy security system reassuring you already.

''You look pretty.'' He compliments and your heart stops, head snapping towards the only window you're close to, walking closer and closer, wondering if someone can see you despite the dark apartment. Your face is almost against the glass until a hand slams against it, the shock and surprise of it all making you fall on your ass with a loud scream. As soon as you look up, the hand is gone. You're too scared to even process you're in the 32th floor of the building.

''Did I scare you, princesa?'' The voice on the phone asks, and your suspicions are now confirmed.

''Asshole!'' You yell at your boyfriend through the phone, hand in your heart as you try your best to calm down knowing no unknown creep was the one bothering you. The man on the phone lets out a soft snicker, the familiar sound somehow making your nerves calm down slowly, but surely.

''Lo siento, mi amor. You looked so pretty.'' Miguel praises, the voice changer now turned off as you can hear his soft breathing picking up, slowly getting louder once you get up from the floor, rubbing your sore ass with a small frown from his scare.

''You looking at me right now?'' You ask curiously, looking out of the window again, yet you can't see anyone. He mutters a small ''mhm'', breathing getting louder as his mic starts to pick up soft wet sounds. You raise an eyebrow at this, slightly confused until you realize what's going on.

''You disgusting pervert.'' You accuse jokingly and he laughs softly, the fingers around his hard cock teasing the tip, smearing his precum all over it while he looks at you from afar. Oh, how he wishes your much smaller fingers were the one working him up and down, rather than his big, calloused hands. He's busy with work, though, and only has a few minutes before he's bothered again by his duty as Spider-Man.

''Mucha ropa.'' He teases you, the corners of his plump lips curling up when he sees you laugh, his right hand working faster up and down his dick at the image of you looking happy. He can't help it- you're too damn pretty, he'd do anything to keep that smile on your face. You roll your eyes, stepping a bit away from the window as you put the phone on speaker, making a show out of stripping of your clothes.

''Is this good enough?'' You ask teasingly, hand slowly trailing down your stomach as heat begins to pool up when you listen to his breath hitch, the wet sounds coming from the speaker getting louder and faster.

''Touch yourself for me.'' He growls out, his palm spreading the precum leaking like a faucet all over the tip of his cock, eyes slightly narrowed at the sensation as he sees your hand disappear inside your underwear, your pretty, whiny moans becoming pure music to his ears. He starts to jerk himself off again, the sounds of your mixed heavy breathing and moans mixing in, yet he's holding back, trying his best not to get the attention of anyone that might be nearby.

''I wish you were here.'' You moan out, digits dipping deeper into your cunt as you can feel just how much you need Miguel, how much your pussy truly needs to be filled by him, and him only. ''I'd be sucking that dick so good.'' All shame goes out the window when you drape your body on the couch, fingers lazily going in and out of your cunt as your other hand rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves above your dripping hole.

''Yeah?'' He asks between deep groans and heavy breaths, red eyes fully focused on the sight of you pleasuring yourself. You look like a work of art in his eyes, and you truly are. Hair slightly messy, a thin layer of sweat painting each perfect curve, and fingers disappearing in and out of yourself, a loud and lewd squelching sound bouncing off the walls and coming out of his phone.

''Mhm...'' You moan out, nodding your head as if he was there, yet you know he can still see you. ''Need you so bad, Miggy... are you coming home soon?'' His line goes quiet for a few seconds and you stop masturbating, suddenly worrying for him. The sight of a bundle of colors appearing in the middle of the living room almost blinding you, the familiar behemoth frame clawing his way out of the portal.

''I'm here, amor.''

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 8 : Put Me On A Feeling I've Never Had

Note: Yeahh my bad, I was not supposed to be gone so long. I am so thankful anyone still here, I still love this story, my life just started lifing again you guys. Thank you for the notes, reblogs, comments and messages. Thank you to those who created things in honor of my story. I love interacting with you guys and hearing thoughts (constructively, I'm sensitive). This one is pretty long and Art and Heaven centric, but the full gang will be around in the next chapter. Once again thank you for the love and I hope you're still rocking with me. I was a little rusty but we're getting back into it. Also...there's a nasty scene, MDNI. Grown folks...the song I feel like is playing in the background is Novacane by Frank Ocean. If you guys have any songs you feel like apply to any characters or relationships in my story, please share! Thanks, hope you enjoy! <3

Warnings: Cheating (fr this time y'all :(), explicit sexual content (MDNI!!!!!), small mention of disordered eating, and some strong language.

Translation: Tanti baci- Many kisses; la mia dolce piccolina - My sweet little girl

Taglist: @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

2019 (California)

“Let’s go.” Tashi mumbles, tying the thick hotel robe around herself as she shuffles across the floor, forcing her lip not to curl as her scar peeks out from the heavy, white fabric. 

Art releases a deep breath, rolling from his stomach onto his back, determinedly keeping his eyes shut. His large hands blindly feel across the painfully cool, silk, sheets. Painfully empty, silk sheets. The folds slip along his fingers as he feels for a body that’s not there, finally giving up and forcing his eyes open to push off of the soft mattress. It’s not like it was offering him any comfort anyway. 

He pulls on a pair of shorts over his underwear before walking sluggishly to the bathroom to pee  and brush his teeth as he hears the hotel door clicking open, knowing none of them belong to the two people that he wanted to see the most. 

Like a zombie he stalks his way into the suite, the room filled with people Tashi hired in an effort to keep her machine oiled and running. Nutritionist, masseuse, physical therapist, assistant coach. All bustling around, shaking up the protein shake he was allowed to have in lieu of the real, delicious food that he could hear the rest of them murmuring about ordering. 

Art falls into his routine on autopilot, letting his personal trainer stretch his legs as he lies on the floor, stretching his back with the resistance band. All under the scrutiny of Tashi’s watchful eye out of her peripheral vision, focus flickering between Art and the television. He clenches his jaw and tries to drown out the sound of what feels like the 50 thousandth reporter questioning if today’s match was going to be the one that pulls him from his losing streak. 

Maybe they should get off their asses and try to see him on his court. Maybe then they wouldn’t feel so comfortable talking shit behind a desk and a camera while he was working his fucking ass off. 

“Art, relax your shoulders. You’re tense.”

That earns him another glance from Tashi, lips pursed as she pops a strawberry into her mouth.

The blond corrects his form, releasing the air constricting his chest, letting his eyes slip up toward the ceiling in resignation. 

After finishing his warm up stretches Art downs the protein shake, feet dragging lazily along as he stands in the kitchen trying to psych himself up for the day.

Donaldson has taken the win in several tournaments, even making his mark at Wimbledon, several grand slams-

That’s right, Shane. The only thing the player is missing is that elusive U.S. Open. Now, he was a fan favorite prior to a painful injury last spring, but has made a full recovery. And yet, he seems to be in some sort of slump, hopefully with the support of the new team hired by his coach he’ll be able to take the victory today in his match against DeMario-

Tashi slowly brings her gaze upward, raising her eyebrows at Art as he looks at her, dropping the plastic remote back onto the coffee table after muting the tv. Shrugging, she brings her coffee to her lips and sits back against the cushions, crossing her legs and facing the tv again. 

Art’s lips part as he works up the courage to say what he’d wanted to say for the last few months…hell maybe years. 

Before the words can come out, the door beeps again. The only other person with a key card clicks the door open and once again, the words get caught in Art’s throat, it’s too big of a risk. 

“Daddy!”

The little voice has Art’s heart clenching, blue eyes softening immediately as dark curls and big brown eyes come bouncing toward him, he’s bending to catch the girl attempting to fly into his arms, only to be stopped short.

“Hold on baby-” there goes the other voice, the one that makes his heart speed up instead of clench. Heaven lifts the squealing girl, grunting as she hoists her onto her hip, nuzzling her nose into her cheek. “Gotta let Daddy get ready for work right?”

“But I want to play with him.” his little girl whines and he could weep.

“Oh, you will, la mia dolce piccolina. But first, Daddy’s gotta get ready to play some tennis, you remember why?”

“Because he’s the best tennis player in the world.” She squeals. 

Heaven’s lips roll inward as she glances at Art then Tashi and then back to Art, whispering a quiet, “Yep.” Before walking over to the couch, lowering the little girl to Tashi, relishing in her giggles as she dangles her over the back so she can reach Tashi’s face, “Go on, tanti baci.”

Tashi smiles, accepting the uncoordinated kisses the child scatters all over her face, mumbling a thank you against her cheek before sending a meaningful look to Heaven, nodding her head in Art’s direction and turning back to the TV in front of her and turning the volume back up.

Art rolls his eyes, cocking his head back as Heaven makes her way over to him, the little girl squirming in her arms to smack her hands on her father’s cheeks. “Oh, is it my turn?”

“Yes!” She grins, cheeks dimpling in a way that makes him melt.

“Yes?” He cheeses back, blowing a raspberry into her hand and taking in each messy kiss his daughter plants on his skin. “Thank you, princess.” When his daughter releases Heaven adjusts her on her hip, a soft smile on her own face as she watches the interaction. Art stares down at her, watching the smallest of movements she gives him, her eyes flicking up to his and just as quickly turning away. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She says gently, finally giving him her eyes fully, pouty lips just begging for him to take them with his own. 

Art brings his hand to her chin, tilting it up to guide her to meet him halfway, sighing in relief when her eyes flicker closed in anticipation of a kiss. He places his other hand over his daughter’s eyes with a breathy chuckle, inching closer to her lips only to be stopped short by the creek of someone jumping up from the couch. 

“We need to get down to the courts.” Tashi calls, not looking up from her notebook, but clearly disapproving from the look he’d grown to know very well over these last few months. 

Before Art can do anything, Heaven recoils, pulling back again, this time shuffling a couple steps away, ponytail bouncing behind her as she walks between Art and Tashi, not offering either of them so much as a glance. Her voice fades as she disappears towards the kids room in the suite, the last thing he hears is her murmuring into the little girl’s ear. “Should we check on sissy? Maybe we can all order some breakfast before we watch Daddy play.”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes? Pancakes are for big girls, are you a big girl who can walk on her own without running to get Daddy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s good, mama, let’s get you some pancakes then.”

Art stares down the hallway, picking at the skin on his fingers as he tries to catch the rest of the conversation. Just a little bit more.

But he couldn’t have more, at least, not right now. He’d have to settle for this little bit he got. So, he scrubs his hand down his face, and grabs one of his shirts and follows Tashi out of the door, biting back a yawn.

“-and the pool.”

“And the pool? That seems like a lot of fun. I wonder when you’re going to practice your reading.” Heaven hums. She holds the door leading to the tennis courts, guiding the little girl through first before adjusting the two year old on her hip, following closely behind. “Don’t run, Aurora, walk to the seat please.” 

Her heels clack as she walks along the gravel walkway, nuzzling her cheek against the toddler in her arms, offering a soft smile to the man who helps her up to the seats reserved for Team Donaldson. Slipping shades onto her face, Heaven ducks her head to hide away from the reporters, suddenly noticing her arrival and snapping some distant pictures before they decide to swarm her. 

Tashi’s mother leans forward, kissing Heaven’s cheek, murmuring in her ear for her to pass her the baby to hold in the row behind her. Heaven crosses her legs, bouncing her knee nervously as she stares at the empty court. She bites her bottom lip until she tastes metal, and then takes to toying with the rings on her finger. 

Today is a big deal. 

The match is nothing serious. Just some young, new player who was probably absolutely pissing themselves because they’re going against the Art Donaldson. But Art’s been…struggling. She doesn’t know what’s causing it, this slump he’s in. They’ve been operating the same way for the past few years, but suddenly, it seems like Art’s checked out. It bothers her to watch him just go through the motions, like a little worker bee with no thoughts or ambition of his own. Heaven can’t stand how uninterested he seems in everything. Tashi seems to think it’s a confidence issue, at least that what she tells Heaven as she rolls her eyes and scrolls through his dropping stats. Art’s mother thinks that he needs to take another break. 

Heaven doesn’t know what she thinks. What she does know, is that Art hasn’t been fucking winning. And when Art doesn’t win, none of them win. 

“Excuse me, miss?”

Heaven jolts from her thoughts, turning to look up at a brunette lady, her hair pulled back into a probably once neat bun, mussed from rushing around, working the event. She adjusts her headset and looks down at Heaven with a smile. “Hi, yes?”

“Team Donaldson wants to see you in their waiting room.”

2007 (California: UCLA Campus)

Art claps as loud as he can as Heaven and the rest of the cast takes their bow. He watches her curtsy deeply with a pretty smile on her face, her chest rising and falling with effort. As she allows the male lead to take her hand and guide her off the stage, her gaze falls to Art, and she fixes him a strange look. 

He knows he probably looks stupid. Art can almost feel how goofy the smile on his face is, but he can’t help it. 2 hours and 15 minutes. That’s how long he got to watch her. She came on and off of the stage but his eyes followed her the whole time. It felt like she was only on stage for 3 minutes. Time suspends while Heaven dances. Art watched her body contort, and her muscles stretch as she moved across the stage. He felt fucking privileged. Like he didn’t deserve that experience. He doesn’t know how Patrick and Tashi could pass up the opportunity to see her like this. The glow on her face as she tells a story with her form. 

Art is startled by a soft nudge to his side, turning to see Heaven’s stepfather giving him a knowing grin. The blond coughs, finally and fully shaking the trance he’d been in and giving the older man his attention. “She’s…she’s amazing.”

“Believe me, I know, my daughter is the brightest star.” Luca pats Art roughly on the arm, his strong hand a stark contrast from his kind smile. “It seems like you know that too.”

Art feels his face heat, eyes briefly darting back toward the stage. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And your friend, Patrick, does he know?”

If this was any other situation he’d cover for his best friend. Art would tell the older man that something happened. Make up some excuse, some lie as to why Patrick wasn’t here to support his girlfriend. But he didn’t have it in him. 

Why should he? Why should he talk his way out of something good? If Patrick actually knew what he had he’d be here. Tashi he can excuse, she’s recovering. But even then, Art can’t think of anything on God’s green earth right now that would have been able to keep him from watching her like this. Or even just the chance to spend time with her. 

"Heaven deserves...everything."

A few minutes pass before Heaven comes barrelling out, leaping into her stepfather’s arms like a little girl, her smile wide as she cuts their brief conversation about the other dancers Art missed while he was in his Heaven induced daze. The elder man grunts as he catches her, showering her in praise and presenting her with the Chanel gift bag before slipping into the conversation that her mother was unable to make it. 

Art enjoyed the warmth of the moment. He basks in the joy on her face, and the hum of jealousy at the fact that he’s not the one causing it is manageable, remaining at a low thrum in his chest. When she finally turns to address him, he straightens, determined not to sound like a fanboy meeting his celebrity crush. 

“Well?” Heaven cheeses up at him, clearly waiting for her ego to be stroked. She rocks on her feet, her hands clasped together behind her back. She’d loosened her hair out of the intricate style she’d performed with, but still stood before him in her final costume, looking like a princess who walked straight from a fairytale. 

“Well…I’m gonna empty my bank account to get tickets for every other night, so-”

“Then I’ll expect to see you there. I’ll put on a good show” She says softly, pushing onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Heaven brings her lips to Art’s ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Um,” Art’s voice cracks as he feels her press against him, not knowing how to embrace her in a way that wouldn’t give away the fact that she literally made him fall in love with her all over again moments before. He settles for rubbing her back, holding her a beat longer than what’s appropriate. He holds himself back from tightening his arms around her when she does pull away, opting to present her with the flowers he’d bought her instead. “I got you these. I  saw they gave you some when you were taking your bow but…these ones are from me.”

Heaven bites her bottom lip glancing behind him and then back into his eyes. “Thank you, Art.”

“Yeah. You were beautiful, Hev.”

Luca’s eyes narrow as he looks between his stepdaughter and the young man he’d watched sitting on the edge of the fabric theater seat the entirety of the performance. He’d expected to be joined by Heaven’s boyfriend tonight. He’d heard from Tashi that she still was not feeling well and his wife made it abundantly clear that until Heaven was part of a company that she deemed professional, she would not be making the effort to attend a performance. 

So when a young man came in looking like he was about to win the lottery, eyes glued to the stage before the performance even began, stars in his eyes and hands gripping the side of the seat, he thought this was him. The older man was relieved, really. He’d love for Heaven to be his baby forever. He’d never take for granted the day that he was taking his niece to the ballet to see Coppélia. She was briefly in town and he’d taken the night off work to take her out while his sister and brother-in-law got a break. He’d gotten the nicest seats in the house to show his niece a good time. 

What Luca hadn’t expected was for a beautiful woman to tap him on the shoulder, her adorable little girl dressed like the doll in the ballet peeking out from behind her leg. The woman had all but demanded that he and his niece trade places with her and her daughter, offering to pay him after pointing out that his niece was asleep and not paying attention anyway. 

He didn’t mind giving up the seat, in exchange for the beautiful woman’s number, and the bright smile on the little girl’s face. She was missing her front two teeth and was barely taller than her mother’s knee, but he watched them. He saw the little girl stare up at the dancers with wonder, sitting with her back straight, imitating their arm movements as the ballet went on. He watched her mother smile down at her, pointing out things the little girl might miss. It wasn’t long before he fell in love with the woman and her daughter, and soon, they were a family. 

But now, the little girl who used to ask her stepdaddy to twirl and lift her like the big girls he took her to see was on stage where she belonged. And there was a boy. A man. Here, mesmerized by her. He watched the love in the boy’s eyes in real time. 

The only problem was that he wasn’t him. He wasn’t the boy who was supposed to be here, on the edge of his seat, watching his little Stellina shine. No, he was a friend. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to be rooting for the boy in front of him when he hadn’t met the boyfriend. Maybe he owed him a chance to prove himself too. But one thing he and Beatrice had instilled in Heaven, trait that she and her Tashi share, is knowing you have to earn the things you want. Tonight is the first big night of many for Heaven. But, it was the first. She deserved support. As long as Luca was alive she would have it, but he’s not naive. He knows he won’t be enough anymore. And it all boils down to one thing. Art was here. Patrick was not. 

So, if he invited Art to dinner, it was because he’d earned a seat.

“I could have been a pro, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Utensils clang over the music and chatter of the restaurant Heaven and her dad had guided him to. Apparently, they went to it every time Mr. Whitlock visited Heaven at school. It’s an American Steakhouse and Brewery. Fancy enough that he couldn’t come in sweats, which Patrick would have hated. But not so fancy that they had to be all stiff and uncomfortable like at the restaurants his dad normally drags him to.

“Papino, please-” Heaven whines, dramatically dropping her head into her hands. 

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Art.” The older man waves his hand, dismissing his daughter playfully. Leaning in conspiratorially to Art. “My daughter is closed minded, but she is not the only athlete in our family. If my football career would have taken off-”

“You see!” She points, sitting up pointing at her father. “Football” she mocks with a thick italian accent. “Ask him where he was born, Art.”

“It’s not about the birth place!”

The blond chuckles at the exchange, enjoying the banter between father and daughter. He wishes he and his dad had this. Jokes. Familiarity. Heaven softens around him. He remembers what she looked like around her mom. Tense. Nervous. Insecure. And around everyone else, it was like she held herself apart. She stays where its safe, next to Tashi, in their own world, keeping everyone else out. Just the two of them plotting their world domination together. Art often found himself feeling jealous, like he was on the outside begging to be invited in. But right now she’s open. Showing him things he;d never gotten to see from her before. “Where are you from Mr. Whitlock.”

“Luca.” The older man corrects, taking a sip of his water. “And italy-”

Art feels a foot brush his leg under the table and whips his head to look at Heaven, willing his face not to turn pink and for his dick not to get hard as her lips mouth to him ‘New York’. 

“You see this? Arthur, when you have daughters, don’t spoil them, they’ll turn into brats, like my Heaven.”

“A brat? I’m not a spoiled brat. Art, am I spoiled?” she asks, leaning against his arm, fixing her big brown eyes at him. 

Art could fucking melt.

“Don’t bat your eyelashes at him and confuse the boy, here” Luca reaches over and musses his daughter’s hair, earning a laugh and a whine that he’d pay if he messed it up. “Answer now.”

“Hev…”

“Art, no.” She pouts.

“I’m not gonna lie to your dad, you’re a princess, Hev, it’s just what you are. Pretty girls like you tend to get what they want.” He jokes, pinching her cheek. Heaven swats his hand away and crosses her arms, mumbling about them ganging up on her.

“Sorry,” A voice calls from beside the table. It’s their waitress, carrying the desserts they’d ordered. “I didn’t want to interrupt, your chocolate mousse, sir.” The waitress places Luca’s plate down in front of him and he naturally sighs as his daughter’s eyes automatically shift away from it to her glorified fruit cup. He wishes she’d let herself indulge, but he knows from experience. Heaven will not bend. Her discipline will not break. Even as she eyes Art’s strawberry cheesecake, a snack that happens to be her favorite. 

The older man doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it’s certainly not what he sees. He watches the blond young man push the plate toward Heaven, and as he suspects, she pushes it back, the glass is pushed back and forth until the boy shrugs, placing his hands in his lap, as if declaring that if she didn’t have any, he wouldn’t either. Another thing his daughter hates. Waste. 

Heaven rolls her eyes, scooping a small piece of the creamy dessert onto her spoon and taking it into her mouth, causing the boy to grin with victory. Victory that is short lived and replaced with flushed embarrassment when she grabs his chin, taking a much larger scoop and pushing it into his mouth with the same spoon. Luca can’t help but join his daughter in laughing as the boy sputters trying to swallow the hunk she fed him. But he also can’t help but notice her bringing his water to his lips, rubbing his back and thanking him for a piece of his cake. The cake that he didn’t touch again, the grimace he’s hiding clearly revealing that he doesn’t like strawberry cheesecake and that his decision may not have been a coincidence after all. 

As they close out their meal, he thinks back on what he witnessed that night. Heaven’s beautiful dancing had definitely been the highlight. But as his daughter and the boy who had stars in his eyes as he looked at her spoke about everything and nothing he had a feeling that he was witnessing something even more rare.

And this would not be the last time he saw Art Donaldson.

“He likes you.” Heaven singsongs, strolling into the doorway as Art holds it open, following closely behind her. “My dad.”

“Thank God, I was worried about that.” Art breathes, letting her lead him to her dorm room door. 

When she reaches her unit Heaven turns, leaning against the door and looking up at the blond man in front of her. “Why? Pressure’s not on you, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.” Art just raises his eyebrows, nodding his head. “Too soon?”

“Uh, yeah,” he breathes, dropping his head slightly. “Pretty sure it’ll always be too soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He forces himself to ask her the question burning in his mind, looking at the floor. “Have you…have you heard from him?”

“No. But, I’m pretty sure I’m not the girlfriend he’s worried about losing.” She shrugs.

“He’s just…if…Patrick’s a fucking idiot, alright?” Art needs her to understand it’s not her. She’s not the problem. He would do anything for her to get the only issue is that Patrick isn’t right for her. He can’t handle her looking up at him with sad eyes like those. Her gorgeous rose petal lips should only ever be spread into a smile. Leaning his forehead to hers, Art lets his eyes slip closed in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna be a really shitty friend right now, so if you really don’t want to hear it, you should go in your dorm and I’ll drive back to school and kick myself for fucking up with you again.”

“Art, you promised-”

“You wouldn’t have to wonder if you were with me. I meant what I said. I’d be at every show, every rehearsal, fucking, I’ll sit in a room and watch you twirl for fun if you want me to. I want to make you happy.”

“Art, what do you want me to do?” she whines, literally stamping her foot on the carpet, still not moving, sharing his air. 

“Let me show you how good it could be.”

“You want to sleep with me-”

“I’m in love with you.” he sighs. “I’d do anything. Let me show you.”

“You should stop saying that.” Heaven says wearily, running her hand through blond curls. “I’m starting to believe you.” 

He sighs again, leaning into her hand and scanning her features intently, waiting and watching for a sign that this is going in his favor. He just wants to be with her. Take care of her. He’d be so good at it. She just has to let him try. 

And then a miracle happens. 

Art’s brain blows a fuse as he feels Heaven’s lips against his. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s tasted her. He wills himself to take it slow, but as her lips part for him he finds himself groaning and wrapping his arms around the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up against the door. Being with Heaven feels like being an addict getting a fix of their favorite drug. It’s euphoric. A high he can chase with all his might but the only thing that got him to true ecstasy what having her. 

He’s almost scared of what making love with her would do to his psyche. 

Patrick would call him a pussy for saying it that way. But that’s the only thing that he could conceive of calling what he was about to do. Or, the only thing he could say that would be applicable and not sacreligious. 

Heaven gasps as the cool air of her room hits her as she grips Art’s shoulders to keep her balance as he carries her in. The sound of her keys hitting the floor is drowned out by her attempts at breathing steadily and what could only be described as whimpers coming from Art as he bites and sucks at her skin. She hadn’t expected him to be the type to like to leave marks. But here the usually gentle man was, manhandling her onto her champagne, silk bed set, head buried in her neck like a fucking vampire, large hands switching between shoving up her shirt and tugging down her pants.

She scrambles to pull at his shirt, squeaking out the word, “Off.” as his lips encase one of her nipples. 

He listens immediately, reaching one hand back and whipping his own shirt off before kissing a wet trail down her body, kissing her hip bone, tucking a finger under her underwear. Art pauses then, waiting for confirmation that he could continue. He looks like a wounded puppy when Heaven sits up, legs effectively closing to him. 

The somber look is immediately traded for one of shock and then pleasure when she guides him to sit in the bed, and climbs into his lap, her hand unzipping his shorts and pushing into his boxers. “Fuck, Heaven-”

“I figure, I should thank you. For showing up for me today,” she whispers into his ears, relishing in the noises he makes as one of his hands grips the blanket below them and the other buries into her hair. “and any other day since I met you. I do appreciate you, Art. You matter to me.”

Art’s desperate, lifting his hips each time her hand moves up, leaning into her as she whispers in her ear. “I…fuck it feels so good.”

“Yeah? Do I make you feel good? Is that why you wanna be with me so bad, handsome?” she hums, squeezing the tip and trying not to react to his tightened grip when she does.

“I wanna be with you because I…fucking oh fuck, I fucking love you.” he breathes, chest rising and falling, his abs flexing with effort. “Fuck, let me see your face.”

“But I wanna keep talking to you.” Heaven says, letting her lips brush the skin of his ear. “You’re attracted to me, Arthur. You want to fuck me. That’s all. S’okay.”

Art’s eyes squeeze closed and he pulls her even closer to him. “No, I love you. Even if I can’t fuck you.”

“Really?” She twists her wrist and changes the pressure in her grip.

“Unh, fuck, no I love you, but I need to fuck you.” He whines.

 Art drags his hand from the back of her neck to cup her jaw, guiding Heaven to his lips. He kisses her deeply. She can’t describe it. But she feels it in her toes. She can feel the intensity. This wasn’t what she was used to. This kiss felt like something she’d never experienced before. It felt like begging. Like he was pleading with her to understand. He needed her to get what he means, what he feels. When he says anything he means anything. When he says he loves her he means it. 

And for the first time, even in her own mind, Heaven acknowledged that she wanted him to know she felt the same way. 

So when he pulls away to give her air, she chases his lips, capturing them again and getting another taste of the same intensity he’d given her before. “I really tried, you know. To stay away from you.” 

“Don’t stay away from me, I need you.” He breathes against her lips, his own dragging along them as they refuse to take any more space from each other. Art nudges her nose with his softly, dropping his hands to her waist. “Heaven, please.”

“What do you want me to do, Art?” Heaven asks, pulling him from his pants. Her eyes locked on him. He’s blurry in her swimming  vision, but she can see him build the courage to tell her what he needs from her, taking a deep breath.

“Tell me you love me too.” he says against her lips, holding her down against him, rocking her hips to set a pace with his hands. “Tell me, baby. Please.”

“I love you.” 

“Again.”

“I fuck I love you.”

“I love you. Again.” he groans, guiding her a little faster, sliding one hand down and tugging at her underwear again. This time she pushes up onto her knees, separated by his thighs, she helps him get the fabric off of her body as his gaze follows her upward, leaning his head back. 

“Arthur.” she says sternly, cupping his cheeks with her hands, “I mean it.”

Art and Heaven share a gasp as she sinks down on him, his strong, calloused hands grip soft, muscled thighs as they share two pecks before pushing their foreheads together, both peering down to where they’re joined together, the only sounds in the room are the slow creaking of the bed and the pants passed between the pair.

Heaven had never felt so close to someone before. She’d never felt this good. All she could think about was Art. Art’s hands on her, squeezing her, pushing her hair out of her face, pressing his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her eyes whenever they slip closed as she rises and falls above him. 

Art’s eyes, that drink her completely. The perfect mix of blue and brown, glossy and locked on her. He always demands her eyes. He’s made it clear he loves when she looks at him, but the way Art looks at her…it’s like he worships her. It’s like he’s worried if he blinks she’d be gone. He makes her feel the most beautiful she ever has.

He’s beautiful. It distracts Heaven to look at him, beneath her, yet somehow demonstrating his strength. Holding her up, guiding her movements with his strong arms, veins running up the muscles that hold her. All while offering her the prettiest slurred moans.

“Fuck, Heaven, you feel so good.”

“So good, squeezin’ me, you need me baby?”

“He didn’t fuck you like he loved you, no one can. Only me, gorgeous. No one can love you like I can.” 

“S’like I’m meant to be inside you.”

As Art’s thrusts grow harsher and deeper, they keep their slow pace. Heaven buries her head in his neck, letting him rock her as she cries into his skin. She feels the pressure building in her lower abdomen.

Art feels her tighten around him and suddenly he’s lucid. The squeeze pulls a cry from him before he’s turning his head to be in her ear. “You gonna cum, sweetheart?”

“Yeah” Heaven whimpers.

“Yeah? Fuck…I’m so glad, baby. Hold on okay?” He lifts her then, earning a squeal from Heaven as he rolls them so he’s above her, just barely hovering as he brackets her with his arms. Art leans down, placing his weight on her before pushing into her again, staring down at her face as she bites her lip, trying to silence her noises. “Please don’t. I fucking dream of those sounds, I wanna hear them. I earned them, I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, Art-”

“Fuck yes, baby, say my name.” He groans, dropping his head to her chest, pressing open mouthed kisses and littering hickeys along her breasts. “”Cum for me.” He pants against her damp skin.

Art has never heard anything more beautiful. He’d never felt anything fucking like it. In the few years he’s spent on this earth, he’d never experienced anything like feeling Heaven Whitlock cum around him. He almost feels sorry for the past version of himself that hadn’t been inside of her yet. If he had known…maybe it was best he didn’t know. He fell in love with her before any of this. Maybe that’s why it felt so good. Maybe it’s just Heaven. Maybe her parents knew what the fuck they were doing when they named her.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go back to being a person after this. How is he supposed to want to do anything else? He feels like a fucking junkie, worried about when he’d get his next fix. He needs to treat every kiss like it could be his last. Every touch. Every moan. Every thrust. He wants to live here. With her. In her. 

It’s not even over. Art’s still fucking her right now and he’s praying to God that she won’t leave again. She can’t take this from him. She can’t take herself away from him. Her pretty face, crying out for him. Looking at him. Loving him. That’s right baby, eyes on me.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby.” He whines, kissing her deeply as he feels her wrap her legs around him, pulling her closer. “Fuck…I’m-” Art starts to panick, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s almost over. Then she’ll go. She’ll make him go. He wants to be close. Together. He needs more. More time. Please-

“It’s okay, I…feel- I want you to cum, Art.” She presses the sweetest kiss to his nose, wiping dampness from underneath his eyes that he didn’t even realize was there. “I love you.”

It’s the most innocent thing in the world. A little peck on his nose. 

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

“I fucking love you.”

He basically fucking blacked out. She came again…with him. Art could die now, and he’d be fine.  Somewhere in his mind he feels like what they just did altered his life. He knew he wanted Heaven. He knew that when he first saw her. He knew he loved Heaven, he found that out when he saw her dance. But this intensity he feels…he’d do anything for her. Anything she asked. Anything to make her smile. If she’d just stay. 

And despite knowing her for only a couple of months, almost a year now, he knows exactly what she’s about to do. They’ve played this game before.

“So, um,” She clears her throat, rolling out from under him as he releases her, laying on his side and staring as she slips off of the silk sheets and reaches in her drawer, pulling out a white nightgown. Heaven wraps her arms around herself. Closing off. Covering up. “I’m…I’m on birth control so you don’t have to worry that you…”

“Came inside of you?” Art asks, a soft smile on his lips. 

Heaven straightens, eyes narrowing. “Yes. That. And now I have to go pee.” She turns to leave for the bathroom, only to feel a large hand encase her wrist, tugging her back toward the bed.

“Are you really going to pee?”

“Yes, where else would I go?”

He tilts his head, still holding onto her, running his thumb over the back of her hand before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “You have a tendency to run-”

“I don’t run.”

“Hev, baby, you run. When we get close. We were really close just now.”

Heaven sighs, rolling her eyes before climbing back onto the bed, swinging her leg over Art to straddle him again, this time pulling the fabric of the blanket between them. She intertwines their hands that are not already clasped together, and Art lifts his knees for her to rest her back on. “You scare me.”

The blond man stares up at his lover with a confused look. As she sits perched prettily on his lap he can see she’s being earnest. The anxiousness on her face makes his heart hurt. All he could think is that he’d rather hurt himself than hurt her. She has nothing to fear. But he lies quietly. Letting her playfully pin his hands down with her own, leaning down to his face. 

“I don’t get what you’re doing here.”

His brows furrow. “I’m earning you. Like you said.” 

“That game is way over-” Heaven giggles, rolling her eyes. “What happens if you get me and you figure out I’m not worth it.

“That’s not possible. We both know that, Hev. You’re everything. You’re perfect.”

She shakes her head at that, nuzzling his nose again. “Fucking tennis players, man. Toxic ass bunch.” Heaven huffs at herself, shaking her head. “Just can’t leave ‘em alone. You know, Tashi gave me her blessing to hook up with you? Told me to get you out of my system already.”

Oh. 

“Oh.” He steels himself, letting her weight above him be his anchor. He commits this feeling to memory. Just in case she’s about to say this was a fluke. In case this really didn’t mean what it meant to him to her. “Did it work?”

“I just told you I loved you and let you nut in me Arthur.” Heaven deadpans. 

“I know it was awesome.” He smiles goofily, lifting their joint hands and nudging her dimple with his knuckle. 

“Oh, was it awesome?” she mocks, leaning down and biting his cheek lightly, giggling as he finally stops indulging her and rolls her to lay in front of him, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I actually do need to pee.”

“You sure?” he mumbles against her cheek.

“U-T-I.” she hums, patting his head before pushing up, his arms allow her to move this time. Heaven smiles flirtily at him before slipping out of the door. 

Art lies back on her bed and smiles to himself. She’s right. She did say she loved him. He’s never felt more alive than he does right now. Everything about this felt so right and real. Things were how they should be. Art with Heaven. Heaven with Art. 

It was like he was high. Nothing could take it away from him. This moment was perfect. They were in love, and happy and nothing would pierce this bubble they’d created.

Except that damn buzzing.

Art tells himself he thought it could be his or her phone.

They’re both discarded on the floor. It could be anything. An emergency. With her parents. His. Tashi. Anything. 

He tells himself he didn’t even consider it could be Patrick texting her. And when his jaw clenches, and he runs his hands through his own hair hastily before opening the texts, he tells himself that he saw his best friend’s name and wanted to make sure he was okay. And that he showed great restraint when he chose to delete the message he sent Heaven, claiming to miss her and expressing the need to talk. He could’ve thrown the fucking thing against the wall. He could’ve sent the motherfucker a picture of himself in her bed. Instead he protected her feelings.

And sure. He felt guilty. There was definitely a weight on his chest as he placed the phone perfectly back on the floor where it was and climbed back on the bed. 

But Art can admit, it definitely got lighter when Heaven came tiptoeing back into the room, smiling at him, for him, lifting his arm so she could lay with her back to his chest. Twisting her body to kiss him and promising to talk to Tashi. 

And it for fucking sure went away when she bid him goodnight. “Goodnight…I love you.”

It’s time he and Patrick take some space anyway.

“I love you too.”

[letternotekisses]

Hewwoo i dont know if you do threesome nsfw headcanons but if you do, can i request Leland Coyle feeling generous and sharing his "prisoner" (aka the reader) with his trusted Big Grunt (the brown haired one)? 👉🏻👈🏻

size kink go brrr <3 nsfw under da cut

"Oh, you pretty little thing..." - Big Grunt, during a chase.

Coyle's a possessive man...but he's also a freak. The man likes watching you take a big cock, so what better to get his trusted big grunt involved? Leland does take control of the situation, mind. He splits you open first, staking his claim by having the grunt watch as you squirm on his cock. He's kind enough to let the brute fondle himself while he watches - but if he wants to share Coyle's pretty little prisoner, he's gonna have to fuckin' work for it.

Leland ensures you're ready for it - he won't have his favourite prisoner broken just yet. He watches on, cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips as the Grunt works his oversized fingers into your sweet little hole. He gives the Grunt a small zap with the baton every now and then - encouraging him to eat you out just a little bit faster. Big Grunt's cock hangs between his thighs, throbbing and pulsing with the need to stuff himself into your cute little cunt already but - ah ah, she ain't ready yet! And with a shock, he's back between your thighs with a newfound vigour.

Once he's happy with the soaking mess between your thighs, Coyle finally lets the Big Grunt align his fat cock up against your slit. By all means, the Grunt's sheer size and enthusiasm made up for any experience he may have lacked - as even Coyle slid his sunglasses down to get a better look at the way his cock filled you up - pushing you to your limits. But hey, Leland can't let his Grunt have all the fun, and he soon moves his hand up to grab your soft throat - sliding inside your warm mouth with one smooth movement of his hips.

Big Grunt's movements are jerky, hips stuttering sloppily against your backside as he buries himself impossibly deeper inside your tight hole - making you whine with uncertainty around Coyle's cock, sending vibrations up his shaft that make him grumble in pleasure. Leland cups your cheek, your mouth hollowing around the head of him as he stares down at you through his sunglasses - the burning cherry of his cigarette wafting smoke sensually through the air. His voice is a quiet growl because of course you can take them both, you wanna be rehabilitated, don'tcha?

The Big Grunt likes it when you writhe under him as he watches the point of where you both meet with delight, his fat cock plunging in and out of you. Places a huge, scarred hand on the small of your back when you clench around him especially tight, keeping you grounded and still with a deep chuckle, "Easy, now."

I'm also making it a point that Coyle hates to be shown up. If you moan and whine a little bit more when the Grunt delves inside of you, the bastard cop will make it a point to get you to scream louder. In the end it just results in you being thoroughly worn out, splayed over Leland's lap as he enjoys his post-sex cigarette with a hand planted firmly on your ass. The Grunt stumbles out of the room in a daze, cum streaking his thighs as he prays and hopes that Coyle will feel generous a bit more often.

"Why, you been rehabilitated." >>>

[nocturnesmoon]

Chapter 1: The Wandering Fool

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - Chapter 1: The Wandering Fool

Wordcount: 6.8k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious trauma, PTSD, Hallucinations, Paranoia, Anxiety, Disturbing Themes, let me know if i missed anything

Description: You ran from it all for a reason, it's easier to disappear when everyone thinks you're dead, but what happens when someone wants to bring you dangerously close to your past, the one you've been trying to run from for so long?

A/N: Trying to not panic over the fact i'm finally releasing this- Hope you enjoy it!!

[Next Chapter]

Through all your problems in life, your most prominent ones always seem to have a connection between the weather, and unnecessary questions. Since the dawn of time people have had this annoying notion of being very nosy.

There aren’t many places in the world you've been to where it's different. They can deny it all they want, it's all the same no matter where you go. Simultaneously the weather has never quite agreed with you. It makes your nonstop travel tedious, a draining task that often takes more time than you'd like it to.

Even here, with the amount of time it took you to get here in the first place because of the weather. It's an ironic turn when only a few days after your arrival, the sun turns the concrete into a fire from hell. A stark contrast to the storms and rain, that kept your flight delayed, again and again.

The heat makes you want to never leave that little flower shop, with the big fan in the corner. If it wasn't for the sharp floral smell, and the continuous buzzing of the thing, you could even have considered working here. It's not prone to traffic of many people, and those who are here are usually in a hurry, so they don't engage you in too much meaningless chatter, while you would work.

Unfortunately, you rarely have that luxury, every turn and twist in your day-to-day life, threatening you with the underlying feeling of being caught, of being known.

A loud sound erupts from the back, when the old man drops a pair of scissors. Children squeal outside the shop, as soon as the ball goes into the hoop placed above the window. It's a disaster waiting to happen. However, it kept the children happy and busy, in the early hours of the morning, when there was nothing to do yet, and the heat wasn't high enough to spoil their activity.

The quiet sound of snips continues soon after, the man continuously giving you odd looks from your request. You don't pay it any mind. Your hands nervously clutch at your wallet, the ache in your knuckles barely noticeable anymore.

One of the kids outside pick up the ball again, launching it at the hoop but missing by an inch. The ball bounces back, and you realize it before you see it. The silence between the kids is almost comical, the squealing and happy yelling gone within an instant.

A little streak of crimson runs down from the kid's cheek, the bruise already forming with unnatural colors. The other kids flock around them, fuzzing about with caring tones and careful touches. One of the older ones finds a rag to gently dab away the blood.

You wonder if it would still be warm to the touch, metallic in taste, an awful sign of life.

The kid's eyes keep staring ahead, through the window. You could pretend that they're looking at the pretty flowers, but you hold their eye contact with purpose. They look defeated in their shock, too big of a reaction for a little accident in your flawed opinion.

You could've stopped them, prevented it before it happened, they wouldn't have gotten hurt.

They continue to stare you down, a frown settled on their lips. Do they really think that you could've stopped them. The kids would've laughed at you at best. The eyes multiply tenfold when the other kids notice the injured one's staring. You keep it up, not backing down despite the uncomfortable feeling of too much attention on you. You've been too exposed today.

You've had eyes in the back of your neck ever since you left your room this morning. Not the usual way either, this time it's been from an unknown source.

You don't miss the man leaned up against the wall to a clothing boutique. His hood raised up, his lips moving to speak every now and then. He's doing a good job at pretending to watch the kids have fun and play.

The old man clears his throat. He's already arranged the flowers beautifully, they now rest on the counter, waiting for you to pay up.

You put down your payment in coins, ignore his grumbling in favor of grabbing the flowers and getting out of there in a hurry.

The café has been your only place of respite. A quaint little space you found when you first came to this place. It sits open to the streets, while still managing to feel packed away. Behind those old curtains, and dainty accessories adorning yellowish walls, is the best coffee you've had in years.

Ding

A pleasant little sound fills your ears every time you open the door, and step down in the lowlight place. As much as you liked it, every time you were here, you'd be fighting your instincts to make the sound again and again and again. Your own mental oblivion urging you forward.

Coffee is already placed on your table. Steam rising from the little blue cup, the one with a chipped side, unofficially assigned to you. The little corner is always free when you come in. There was always the question of whether the little spot was unpopular, or if there were other external factors for its lack of use.

It was hard to tell, by the already general lack of customers and patrons, but the little seat was always there for you.

Confined in your own little corner, you would spend the mornings of the past month sipping coffee, and looking like you belonged in a prison cell. With the amount of paranoia your posture exuded, it's impossible to not think you had something going on.

Luck has a tendency not to follow you in places like these, so you refrain from interacting too much with anything. It leaves you looking a bit like a social reject, but you comfort yourself in the knowledge that in a month, none of these people will see your face again.

At least people don't ask questions here.

You walk over to the counter and place the bouquet of spider lilies down next to the registry. Being careful not to disturb the beautiful order the nice old man had put them in. Your eyes linger for but a moment.

A meek old woman owns the place. Elena. She took a quick liking to you the first you arrived here a few weeks ago. She seemed to understand you in an underlying way, she never asked you the hard questions, she accepted your secrecy in a way only a mother who's seen the worst can do. It freaks you out.

You still feel bad about lying to her.

Had she been someone else, you might've been more inclined. To let the woman know who -what- you really are, would only put her in more harm’s way than necessary. That would even be before she could get a chance to hate you, for the things you've done to stay alive.

The wood protests when you settle into the chair. You pull back on the urge to wiggle in it. The old woman was nowhere to be seen, but the little rustle of pots and pans in the back gave you clear indication of where she is. There's always the fresh smell of newly baked pastries in the mornings, just before everyone wakes up for their daily hustles.

Not many people would come this early, making it a regular occurrence for you to spend that time here. Little hole in the wall only really served the continuing patrons, most others took to the more populated places.

A flash of light shines through the thin curtains, illuminating the dust swirling around in the air, as well as the colorful pillows carefully placed in each chair. They felt out of place to everything else in here. Newer. You quickly learnt a lot of things about the mentality of the people living here, you had to if you intended to blend in inconspicuously. Something you found out the hard way, was that the old woman tended to take things personally.

It didn't matter how much you meant it positively, negatively, no meaning at all. One little comment a faint evening, and the next day the pillows were all replaced.

You squint your eyes from the raging orange and put your focus back on the coffee. It's no longer steaming as much as before. You hadn't originally picked this place because it would provide you cover. In all fairness, if the place wasn't as cozy on the inside, it would likely be shady enough to be conspicuous, from the odd looking outside alone.

Yet still, it serves as your little paradise.

You find your brain goes quiet when you're in here. You can sip your coffee in peace, unaware of the shadows creeping in the corners of your eyes. It's numbing. Your little respite away from the danger outside, the danger within, and with Elena's nurturing soul, it makes you not want to leave.

Ding

Unfortunately, fate has a funny little tendency to give you the middle finger. It has never been on your side, and you doubt it is ever going to be.

Your little paradise is about to be invaded. With lingering smells of gunpowder, and blood so thick it will stain your soul. Patches of blonde and black hair, one making its way to your corner, and the other stationary at the door.

You take a sip of your coffee. It tastes wrong.

The blonde woman pulls out the chair opposite of you. She takes a moment to get comfortable before leaning in, her arms neatly folded on the table. She's playing on your domesticity, your familiarity, you know her too well to expect anything else. You don't doubt if you were look up, you'll see those blue eyes full of desperation, ready to ask you to move heaven and hell for her.

She's a few years too late.

Much to your surprise she keeps quiet when you take another sip. How kind of her. It doesn't last long. As soon as you put the chipped cup down, and acknowledge her, she opens her mouth to speak.

"No" you intercept her.

She closes her mouth, opens it, closes it. "You haven't even heard what I have to say," a small smile plays on her lips. It seems innocent enough. You know her better. She has blood on her hands, the same way you have blood on your teeth.

"The answer is no."

"I wouldn't come to you if it wasn't serious," her folded hands tighten, "You know that." She's honorable, as far as you know, but you're not ready to get back into your harness, so she can pull on your collar.

The next sip burns your tongue. You bite down on it, choke the yelp deep down in your throat. "Laswell..." you speak her name with urgency. The quicker you can shut her up and get her to leave, the quicker you can get back to making your plan to move.

"I need you to just hear me out alright?" she pauses, "it's in your best interest."

She's not letting you leave this place unless you agree.

Your eyes dart over to the man standing at the entrance. There's more than one way to get out of here, the one he is blocking is the least convenient. But you suppose you do owe it to Laswell to hear her out.

If you narrow it all down to the dirt and bones, she is the only reason why you're sitting in this café alive, while remaining dead to the world.

Your would-be grave is far from here. Dug and scraped with your own charred hands and broken nails.

Crack crack, bury the sin beneath blood and bone.

You can still hear it when you unfocus your brain, they won't let you forget.

"It's him, he's back" the words soil your throat, and they didn't even come from your own lips. "He's brought his group back along with him, and they're causing a bigger disturbance," It's sickening that she's even bringing this up.

She continues despite your grimace, "I would have pulled out every other resource I could before coming here, but you're the only person I can rely on to see this through."

She wants you to go back.

Go back, Go back, Go back.

"You're the only one I know that has both skill and cause."

Your eyebrow twitches, and you bite down on your tongue to not retaliate. You can taste the metal before you relent. The last thing you want to do is cause a scene in here.

The old woman doesn't deserve this.

"I understand your apprehension to this, but you know how important it is that we put a stop to him, you should want this more than anyone else."

The chair screeches as you push yourself to your feet. Your palms connect with the table, and it in turn rattles. The man who was standing stationary at the door breaks form. He reaches behind him, and let's his hand settle on something.

Not that you thought she would come here unarmed.

Laswell calls your name, bringing your attention back to her. She's a lot calmer than her jumpy backup. "It's just a talk, nothing more for now," it's all lies is what is.

"Bring attack dogs to all your family meetings?" you don't settle back into the chair. You were done with this place the moment Laswell and her soldier set foot in it.

She spares a single glance back at her friend, something reassuring in her face, it makes him ease back up to form. "Fine, there's no going around it with you," she wants it to all be lighthearted, to ease you in, you won't fall for it again.

"I am cashing in the favor, you'll be properly paid of course, and you can settle a score, does it really sound that bad?"

"Yes."

You stare into her blue eyes. She smells faintly of smoke. Her eyes won't leave you, but you see the contemplation in them, the searching of your figure. She's looking for the right bait, looking for the best way to sink her hooks into your ribs and drag you along.

"I don't want to have to do this to you..." her voice is quieter. It almost surprises you, but you know what she's talking about. She's in a bind herself.

She's not going to wait forever for you to say yes, and she needs you. On paper you are the perfect candidate for whatever she has planned. Though you doubt your mental profile lives up to the required standards. Certain things can be overlooked in desperation, you suppose.

"I'll hear you out," you start "somewhere else." The determination in her eyes border hope. It's pitiful that she thinks you'll have so much influence on her mission. You're really not all that.

You have the basic training, but also enough history to disqualify you, from any position within the military ever again. Laswell let's out a sigh of relief. Was she really that worried?

"Everything alright petal?" your eyes snap to Elena, a pot of something steaming in her hands that she places on the counter.

Laswell's backup twitches, seemingly surprised that the place wasn't as empty as he thought it was. You give the old woman a curt nod. It's enough to make her go about her day as normal, and you silently thank God that she isn't one to question.

"Always pick the jumpy attack dogs?"

Laswell stands up, breathing in harshly. If she doesn't like your resistance, she can pick someone else. "The squad is still weary from the last op." She explains.

You nod quietly in response. At least that's one thing you can sympathize with.

"Come, I'm not going to wait around for you to change your mind."

You hope Elena likes the flowers.

You feel like an idiot. Not even an hour out of the town you resided in, is an off the map military base. You are disgusted, appalled, shocked, disappointed. Every word in the book they could find.

You had prided yourself in being able to outrun anything. When Laswell helped you fake your own death, it was even easier. The amount of preparation you had to do when moving from place to place, was to put it mildly, extensive.

Somehow you completely missed this place.

It has your head reeling. Not even the rumbling of the car, or the passing outside, is enough to distract you. You catch Laswell eyes in the rearview mirror. She was first to get behind the wheel, which is a...choice.

Allowing out a soft sigh, you let your head rest against the window. The base is out past the middle of nowhere. You'd go crazy if you had to count all the corn fields you've passed by now.

Oh look...a cow.

"Nervous?"

The man next to you startles you out of your thoughts. You spare him a glance, not allowing yourself to linger too long at a time. He's casually dressed, his weapons hidden cleverly beneath layers of clothing.

If you remember right, Laswell called him Gaz. Odd nickname but not like you can judge, you've been called way worse.

He's got a good build, even with the blue hoodie you can see how his muscles fill it out. You don't doubt he could deck you fast if he wanted to. There'd be very little you could do about it, so out of form as you are. Occupied with everything else and staying out of sight, you haven't much time to keep yourself excessively fit.

Laswell picks her attack dogs well.

How sweet the sound of his bones breaking beneath your boot would sound.

You shake your head, grimacing at the thought. The little cracks that fill your ears are deafening.

"Don' worry, Cap's nice enough"

You don't doubt it, you just can't find it in yourself to care. Promises can so easily be broken; at the end of the day everyone wants something. That something has a tendency of putting you in danger, so you're not particularly excited.

"Gaz..." Laswell looks through the rearview mirror, making brief eye contact with the sergeant. Does she really think you that unhinged to not handle a simple conversation. A bit insulting.

"What...jus' making conversation," Gaz mumbles and turns his head to the side, subsequently joining you in looking out at the passing cows.

How much would she even tell Gaz about you. He couldn't know much, over half the things you're included in would be classified, and he's but a sergeant. His standoffish stance in the café was likely just to assess the danger, but the switch up is kind of freaking you out.

He seems nice enough overall, but you can't decide whether or not you actually want him to be. In a way it would be easier if he wasn't. You're not here to cultivate new friendships, you're here because you don't have another choice.

Whatever conversation he tries to make, dies out for the rest of the ride.

As soon as the car is put in park, Gaz jumps out. Gone within a blink of an eye, which you came to expect. The rest of the way was spent in awkward silence, and as much as you'd rather have silence, it was bad even for your taste.

Laswell takes it upon herself to lead you through the base. It's hard to ignore the looks and glares you get. You're an unknown variable, and without Laswell, you likely seem like an outright danger. It's a bit uncanny, to think that you once stood on their side, shoulder to shoulder with a sibling made of war.

She doesn't talk to you as you walk through base. You rely on your prior knowledge of the layout of UK military bases, to know where your exits would be. She parts with you in front of the "captains" office, a small throwaway promise to come get you once she has talked to him.

You don't question it, but it does make you raise a brow. Has she even told the captain you'd be coming? He would be the one supervising you when Laswell wouldn't be there, it's a pretty big thing to leave him in the dark about.

As soon as she closes the door, you let out a frustrated gust of air. This was already turning more complicated than you wanted it to be. Why didn't you resist a bit more, protest a bit more, you didn't even negotiate better terms with her. The shock alone, of seeing her again so soon after everything, rendered you unable to think logically.

At least the hallway is relatively empty.

Shadows start to creep in the corner of your vision. Thousands of little things hide there, occupying the otherwise empty space around.

You read the inscription on the door; Captain John Price.

The captain wasn't completely unknown to you. Though it all stems from rumors you heard, when you were a recruit. A few of your teammates had spoken about him in quiet whispers. Back then he didn't have the rank of Captain yet, nor a whole taskforce to command. He's come a long way.

Could they be similar?

No.

No one else could be like that, not that far. Especially not an old Idol, that would just be cruel.

"Kate you can't be serious...have you seen their file."

You perk up when you hear the slightly raised voices from inside. They're talking about you. You tilt your head closer. A grumbled brass voice sounds out, it reminds you of that of a dragon, most likely one belonging to the captain. You try to put a face to the name, but you can't remember any of the old pictures you saw. Every vivid image in your mind is distortedly different.

"You asked me to find extra help, this is it."

You'd laugh in her face if she was out here. There are much more qualified people than you, even with dealing with a group such as this.

"You could read one line in this and know they should not be handling a gun; much less be sent out in possible high-pressure situations."

You nod along for no one to see. You've done this song and dance trying to get reenlisted, twice before. More for the protection aspects than anything else. It would’ve been a lot easier getting your hands on weapons that way, instead of the unconventional way you've resorted to in your time away.

You did give yourself a bit of credit. Despite everything you had fared quite well for yourself, without Laswell's extended help. It came with strings, so you had turned it down.

At least you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere, which to be quite fair, you wouldn't put it past you for it to happen.

"John..."

"Kate..."

You start to wonder if Price would look like a dragon in human form. He already has the voice to match. Maybe he has a fiery beard, a tone that commands the respect of thousands. Would he hoard his possessions, to a disturbing extent?

The door scrapes against the floor when its opened. The sound makes you want to tear your ears off.

"Come on in" Kate waves you inside, making sure to close the door behind you. His office is simplistic, no personal touches around, only the standard issued items rest on his desk. From what you remember, he's used to moving from place to place often, it's likely that this office won't be his anymore by the end of the week.

"This is Captain John Price" She introduces you, and you offer him a nod of hopefully mutual respect. It's not reciprocated.

At first glance you notice two things about the captain.

One.

He stands tall. You don't doubt no matter how many meters you have in you, the man has ways of making you feel small.

He has a beard, beautiful eyes too, when you find it in you to look past the serious expression. It tells you all you need to know about him. At least he's not incompetent, he knows you shouldn't be here. Anyone would know after a single glance at you, even if Kate seems to think otherwise.

And two.

Price doesn't look like a dragon.

You don't know why it disappoints you. You knew very well he would not, and still, you find your heart sinking just little at his dismissive look.

It's a fantasy.

You stopped dreaming years ago; you have no intention of starting the childish notion again. You see enough things that weren't real, why add to it.

Price let's out a long sigh. His frustration with you is clear, but Laswell is steadfast in her opinion, no matter the resistance she wants you in this. The look she's sending his way, does as much as a firm set of words would. He folds his arms over his chest, looking back at her with as much determination as she is.

The quiet is...intruding.

You feel like you're witnessing something that you shouldn't be. The type of conversations, that your boss would have about you in private, to decide what to do with your behavior. You feel a need to say something, to break the silence and remind the two in the middle of a staring contest, that you're still here.

"Fine" Price concedes reluctantly, "but if there is anything-"

"There won't be any problems," she assures him "right?"

You freeze up the moment she refers to you. What were you supposed to say to that. You didn't want to be here, it was only out of obligation to her, to pay the blood debt you owe her.

You shrug your shoulders, finding a spot in the floor to stare at. The stain morphs and changes, subtly getting bigger and smaller, wider, and thinner all at once. It bleeds into the tile. You try to place a shape to it, but it changes too fast for you to decide on anything.

"Right then," Price moves over to his desk and pulls out a folder of multiple files. "You're going to want to know who you're going to work with," he slams the folder down on the wooden table. It creeks. You fight back a flinch.

"Kate has promised me you're going to be able to help," he doesn't sound convinced, "we'll see what you can do."

Laswell gives Price another glare. It would be comforting -her protectiveness- if it wasn't shrouded in obligation. It's laughable how much she believes you can solve her problem.

"You'll be accompanying the 141 in this, they've been working on this for the past month." Laswell chimes in as Price gets out the files of each respective member.

"I thought you needed my help immediately."

"I told you I was going to pull out all other resources before bringing you back into this." There's something pitying in her eyes, it makes you feel sick.

You were always going to be in this. No matter how much you hated it. It has been a part of so much of your life, there's nothing you can do to peel it off your skin. Lord knows you've tried to.

"Yes...We've been gathering as much information as we can on the group," Price leans his hip against the table. "We haven't found much, like the last time they were around, their efforts are very secretive, but we know where they're grouping. We have received reports, threats, missing persons rapports, all the signs the same group gave a few years ago, it seems very possible they have the same leader as well."

"The Divine Principle" you dig your nails into your palms. Your eyes catch the captains, now suddenly more attentive of you.

"You-"

"That's what they call themselves. I've hunted them before; I thought Laswell said." You don't bother looking towards the woman on your left, this is between you and the captain. He didn't seem to be quite convinced of your knowledge or skills. You didn't blame the man. You couldn't prove your skills worthy just yet, so your knowledge had to suffice.

You don't know why you suddenly feel the need to prove it to him, but there's something about his presence that makes you want him to like you. It's a rare feeling, the last time you felt like this you-

"She did, but she did not explain much about you, other than what's available in your file."

"I know enough to know they aren't good people," you switch up your stance, mimicking the way he was standing when you first came in. Your attention catches on the files again. You wonder who they could be, what their skills would include, if they would collide with your own.

You weren't used to working in groups like this, it was going to be different.

"Then you also know how important this mission is, they've done irreparable damage in the past, we can't have it happen again."

Price pushes one file towards you, holding the other three files in his grasp. "Gaz, who you already met as I understand it." You nod, thinking back to the man. Part of you had expected to meet him again, you should've realized he likely already was in the taskforce if he was accompanying Laswell.

"There's Soap, he'll be enthusiastic having a new member on the team I'll assure you that." Price places his file for you to see, giving you a moment before moving on. John MacTavish, Scottish by the looks of it, and an interesting hair choice of a mohawk. You're almost surprised they let him keep it.

"Lastly Ghost, and myself" he puts down the last file. It has no attached picture, but that isn't what initially grabs your attention as out of place as it is. What settles deep in your bones, is his name.

Simon Riley

Simon.

That Simon.

Your brow furrows as you read his name over and over and over again, gradually wishing he had a picture so you could confirm it for yourself. You hadn't seen or heard the name in years, not since you left Manchester. Was there really a chance it could be him.

"There's no picture," you pick up his file, as if reading his name closer would bring clarity to your adding questions.

"Never is," Price observes your hesitance the way you give Ghost's file more attention than the rest, "Do you know each other?"

"Might, it was a long time ago though, I doubt he'd even remember me."

He observes you for what feels like forever, trying to look past your carefully crafted mask, to gouge out the state of the relationship. "Well, it'd be good to have some familiarity on the team," he shrugs "can make the transition easier for you."

Yeah, if he doesn't despise you still.

You don't feel the need to tell the captain of your possibly declined relationship with the man. There's still a chance it's not him. You don't know why you're trying to fool yourself that it's not. You knew even back then that he wanted to join the military, that it had been all he ever wanted.

He's a lieutenant now. Despite everything you can't help but feel a little proud of him for making it this far, even if it's tinged with sadness.

"Will it be a problem?" Laswell brings your attention to her. Her voice layered with a sense of supposed knowledge that she is not supposed to have. It's hard to not get a little irritated, at this point you have no idea how much information the woman has in her skull. Information that you'd love nothing more than to erase from her memory.

"No, it will not" she isn't expecting any other answer. It's not like she's suddenly going to let you go if you do. Worst case scenario she restricts your workspace to avoid a conflict, and if she so desperately wants you to do this job, then you need your space.

"Make it quick, yeah?"

Gaz comes to a stop in front of the door to your little motel room. He makes a quick glance down each side of the hall. Deeming it clear, he leans back against the yellow tinted walls. Too bad he can't see the shadows breathing down his neck.

Though you'd never experienced anything shady or violent, you knew there was a rising criminal activity in the motel. You just never really spent enough time here to witness any of it.

"Yeah yeah," you grimace fumbling with your keys. You really should get rid of some of them, most of them didn't have a purpose anymore. Though like with most things, you had a hard time letting go.

The inside of your the little room you rented is exactly as you left it. Dresser door broken and splintered, curtains half closed, shadows looming in every corner and crevice.

Home sweet home, or something to that effect.

It's not a lot, but you don't complain, you've certainly lived with worse. Not staying in one spot for more than a month at a time didn't leave many options for work, so you had made do.

As much as you trusted Laswell's skills, and her promises, you had your own wariness to battle against. This way was the only one that actually made you feel like you had an advantage, against those that meant you harm.

The duffel bag with most of your belongings, had been hastily shoved into the dresser the morning prior. You find it uninterrupted in the same place, as expected. You glance towards the window and mark your possible exit. Should the man outside turn for whatever reason, the window would be loose, and you could break through the rusted glass frames.

For now, though, you had to trust that this taskforce you were to temporarily join, didn't actually want you dead. Yet.

Your variables are changing, and fast. There isn't a bigger part of you that enjoys this, and meeting up with Simon again could only prove trouble. He probably still held some resentment towards you, there's only the small hope that he keeps things professional.

You look down into your bag, rummaging around in the sealed pocket to locate your pile of papers. Years old and stained letters, some answered, some not. It was your only means of communication for a time, until it all stopped. You don't think he ever found out why, he would've contacted you if he did right? Or maybe he had decided then and there you weren't worth his energy.

Pushing the thoughts aside proved a much harder task than normal. You had gotten used to putting all into a tightly sealed box in your brain, but now that you knew for certain it would all come flooding out, it proved it harder to contain overall.

There isn't much to collect from the room itself, most of your things were already packed and ready for an easy go. You pick up an extra set of shoes and stuff them in before venturing to the bathroom.

You had to give it to this place, they had some of the most uncomfortable bathrooms you'd had the pleasure of occupying. The mirror is stained and dirty, the tile an ugly brown color, and not even to talk about the toilet itself, or the odd smell. Though the latter could be explained by you and your own ministrations.

Your eyes land on the cross tossed into the tub. Little thing on a chain, the same one you had worn for years at a time. Dried blood still gives it that discoloration.

Your knees click when you reach down and place it in the cup of your hand. To think that this little thing carries so much of you. It has seen it all, witnessed your greatest heights making you feel light as a feather, and watched all your sins unfold, burning like hellfire against your chest.

You've never hated a thing more.

Slipping it around your neck is a thoughtless process. The muscle memory in your fingers do the work for you, securing the chain on the back of your neck, like reattaching a leash.

You stand up straight and walk to the sink. Your toothbrush has fallen, it's green hue so faded it's turning white in some areas. You really should just get a new one.

Your reflection catches in the mirror, and you make the mistake of not looking away. Your face turns to a blob of colors and bleeding effects. There's nothing to tell and nothing to see. Your eyes cave in, your nose splitting apart, your ears fuse with your hair and your fingers are too long dragging off your skin.

You barely recognize yourself anymore. You know it's in there, begging to come out, but it'll only come worse than before if you let it.

It all morphs together. A thousand different shadows standing behind you, their long digits running over your arms and shoulders, beckoning you forward. They lean into your ears, fester in your brain, in your eyesight. The shadows in the corners are always the worst in front of mirrors.

It's your fault. You know what you did. You know that they would've still been alive if you hadn't done it. Why are you still here. Why do you think you can hide? You always go back, it's your place, it's ingrained on your skin.

There's never been an out for people like you.

You grab your toothbrush and exit the bathroom.

"You really been livin' in here?"

You clasp a hand over your mouth, masking the shriek you would've let out. You thought he was going to stay outside.

Gaz looks into mirror hanging next to the dresser with the broken door. He inspects his reflection, rubbing a thumb over a smudge of dirt on his neck.

"It was a temporary solution," you tell him as soon as you get your spiraling mind under control. You walk over to the duffel bag on the bed, throwing in the rest of your dwindling belongings.

You can feel his eyes on you, likely judging you. At least he has the decency to keep his mouth shut. You couldn't afford nicer in your current situation, and moving as frequently as you were, this was the least costly option.

"For how long?"

He walks over to the bed, glancing into your bag once before continuing his move around your room. You didn't truly know the answer to that question yourself.

Very long, too long, as long as you can hide like a coward.

"As long as necessary," you answer him while zipping up your duffel bag. It slings around your shoulder, fits neatly against your back. It's a familiar lightweight. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad, you were planning your move anyway.

He gives you a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate. You don't. His shoulders sag a bit when he seems to realize. "Hurry it up," he says and walks to the door, "don't got all day, we have a plane to catch."

He leaves you alone in the hollowing room. It turns a shade darker when the sun shifts outside the window. The shadows consume more of the room. Millions of little eyes watching you in secret.

You walk over to the wall and kneel. It feels wrong to do. There's so many little dents and scrapes hammered into it, the pattern of the wall hiding the little room perfectly. You bang on it once and quietly. Moving the cutout piece out of place, you reach inside to find the gun.

You check it, still fully loaded, and put it down amongst what little clothes you have. It's only for necessity of course, nothing vicious yet.

Come come come.

Your head tilts towards the window, the curtains managing to flow ever so slightly. They bleed into the background, the murky watery color splitting with the patterns on the walls, and the greenery outside.

All of it dark and gloomy. Threatening.

Your legs carry you there. The sun has disappeared behind a set of clouds, leaving dark promises of rain and thunder. The whispers are always the loudest when you're alone. They're not always saying anything. Sometimes they're shaming you, reminding you, other times it's incessant noise.

Occasionally they take shape. Shadow figures with creepy smiles, wide bloodshot eyes. It hides down in the forest behind the motel, to watch you through the window to your room. It's crooked grin bleeds and oozes. You forcefully blink a few times, trying to will it away, but you know it won't disappear until you get distracted, or it wants to go.

You don't hear it; it merely mouths it to you.

He'll find you.

And the scariest part is, you know it's right.

There's never been anywhere you could hide.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

The party

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit smut (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: You may recognise this as a prompt I did on my old account. I wasn't happy with the other one, so I have edited it and added a little more to it, so I hope you like this.

The prompt in question was: "Keep the noise down, baby. Someone's gonna walk in while I have my dick in you/you have your dick in me."

Summary: You are dragged to a party by one of your friends, and part of you wishes you never agreed to go until a certain stranger catches your eye.

Sipping on your second drink of the evening, you sat at a table at the party you had planned on not attending. It was your friend who pleaded with you to come, and every time you refused, she kept asking and begging, until eventually, you gave in. Yet part of you wishes you had never bothered going, because your so-called friend had just abandoned you, going off with guys she had met at the event. 

But despite your plans to leave after finishing your drink, a certain person dressed up in an Armani suit suddenly caught your attention as you looked over at the bar, and it seemed as if he was also interested in you, his gaze fixated on yours. The grey streaks in his hair indicated that he was older, but it made him look even more handsome. 

After thinking about it for a short while, you decided to talk to him. Getting up from your chair, you walked over to the bar and stood next to this handsome stranger with your empty wine glass in hand. Before the barman could serve you, the handsome stranger spoke up, grabbing your attention. 

“Oh, allow me miss,” he said before clicking his fingers, filling up your wine glass. 

You were shocked by what you had just witnessed. “How did you do that?” you wondered, swooshing the glass around to check whether the liquid was real. 

After shrugging at you, he extended his hand, gesturing for a handshake. "I'm Stephen, by the way."

A smile appeared on your face before shaking hands with him. “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he smiled back. 

"You too."

After that, you spent most of your night drinking and talking to each other. But, as the night went on, both of you drank more, and soon you became too comfortable with one another. Whenever you laughed at something Stephen said, he would put his hand on your thigh, gently squeezing at your skin while you placed your hand on his chest.

“I’ve really enjoyed talking to you, Y/N,” Stephen said while setting his empty glass down on the bar. 

“Same here,” you replied, finishing your own drink.

Despite your desire to make a move, you were worried he'd reject you due to his age and your belief that you were not on his radar. Then again, you knew you'd probably never see him again, so you decided to just take the chance. You leaned forward, gently pressing your lips to his, kissing him. When Stephen didn't kiss you back though, you pulled away to quickly avoid the sheer embarrassment you felt. But he quickly pulled you back into the kiss, his lips colliding with yours.

You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth for a short moment. Stephen eventually pulled away for a breather, leaving you breathless as well. Then he leaned forward, his warm breath on your neck making you shudder as he whispered in your ear.

"Why don't we get away from all these people and go somewhere quiet?”

Stephen then pulled away from you and looked at you intensely. A long moment passed as you stared at him, processing what he had just asked you, before sending him a quick nod. Taking your hand, Stephen then led you away from the party and into a quiet room, shutting the door behind him as you entered. 

Then he moved to kiss you, slamming his lips onto yours, kissing you hard and rough. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as your lips moved together. But Stephen suddenly broke off the kiss and he turned you around, pinning you up against the wall. He then grabbed your hips, pulling them back as your back arched slightly before he lifted up the dress you were wearing and squeezed at your ass, digging his fingers into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I’m going to have my way with you now. Is that okay with you?” Stephen asked with a growl. 

“Yes,” you whined, and it seemed that was the only response he needed to hear because you then heard the sound of him unclipping his belt. 

You waited in anticipation for him to touch you again, and you let out a little whine when you felt Stephen’s fingers on you, pushing your panties to the side. In a desperate attempt to get him inside of you, you wiggled your hips a little as you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance. 

Stephen then gave you what you wanted. He pushed into you, and you let out a filthy moan as he filled you up. A deep groan left Stephen's mouth as you took every inch of his thick length. Once he was in balls deep, he gave you a moment to adjust to his size, which you appreciated. 

After giving you time to adjust, he moved, pulling almost all the way out of you before slamming back into you, causing you to whine.

Then his hands were on your hips, gripping you harshly before he began to just pound into you, the sound of his hips slapping against you filling the room. You cried out as he moved, his cock feeling so good inside your pussy. 

"Keep the noise down, baby,” Stephen chuckled. “Someone's gonna walk in while I have my dick in you.” 

The only thing you could do was whine in response as Stephen continued to fuck you, his thick cock stretching you out in the best way possible. You then felt one of his big hands on your throat before he tilted your head up and kissed you. Moaning against his lips, you kissed him back when the tip of his cock hit a sweet spot deep inside of you. 

“I love all the sweet noises you’re making for me, sweetheart. But do you want someone to hear us, huh? Do you want them to know how good you are at taking my cock?” 

“Yes!” you cried out. 

Stephen sent you a smile before he kissed you again. He kept moving, kept fucking you at a fast and punishing pace. You could feel yourself dripping all over his cock as he moved, coating him with all your juices. 

“Please don’t stop,” you begged. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You feel too good for me to stop.” 

Your sweet moans continued to fill the room as Stephen kept pounding into you, and you could hear the distant chatter of other partygoers. You prayed that they wouldn't hear you being fucked by someone you had only met a few hours ago. 

As Stephen kept moving you could feel your orgasm blossoming, and you were so desperate to cum. You needed it so badly. You turned your head to look at Stephen and you kissed him, clenching around him as he groaned against your lips. 

“Please keep fucking me. I’m going to cum,” you told him. 

“Fuck,” Stephen grunted, his thrusts speeding up.

“Fuck yes! Just like that,” you cried out as Stephen hit that sweet spot, and all it took were a few more powerful thrusts before you saw stars, the feeling driving you wild. 

Stephen fucked you through your orgasm, and your legs felt like jelly as he dragged out the feeling. It was evident he was close too because he wouldn't stop groaning as his length twitched inside of you. 

“Cum inside of me,” you whined, and it seemed that’s all Stephen needed to hear. He gave you two more rough thrusts before emptying inside of you with a deep groan, filling you up with his cum. 

Stephen pulled out of you once he had finished coating your insides, the both of you catching your breaths. You waited for Stephen to pull up his trousers before you said anything, and once he had done up his belt, you spoke up in a hopeful tone. 

“Could I see you again?” 

Stephen let out a low chuckle. “Desperate for more already?” 

The feeling of your face getting hot let you know you were blushing, your lips pressed tightly together as you stared at him. It was true though, you did want to see him again.

You then watched as Stephen performed the magic again as he had earlier, this time a little card appearing in his hand. He then handed it to you and you stared at it, noticing the address and phone number written on it. 

“Text me or visit that address whenever you’re up to it again,” he said before sending you a wink. 

You smiled at him. “Yes sir.” 

Stephen laughed before you both left the room and went your separate ways. You couldn’t wait to see him again.

Tag list: @butchers-girl @azu21 @polytheatrix @lucimorningst4r @evelyn-kingsley @withalittlehoney @mirikusashes @bobateadaydreams @strangelockd @thealleydog @cemak @stewardofningishzida @lady-harvey @smokeywhalee @floatingfireflies @iamsherlocked1479 @icytrickster17 @asherloki @ssinimbrn-catsr0pia @aphroditesdilemma @strangesthirdeye @scxrleth3r @rmoonstoner @stephenswh0re

[hard-core-super-star]

deep blue, you painted me golden [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: the ups and downs that come with secretly dating under the watchful eye of the media prove to be too much for you and hailee...so you decide to come up with a solution yourselves instead of giving in to the chaos.

warnings: an overwhelming amount of fluff; mentions of anxiety + panic attacks but nothing super detailed; protective hailee; petnames for days; secret relationship; rude paparazzi's and ruder interviewers

wordcount: 2.1k

a/n: this request was sent in via pm and it was an absolute delight to write. thank you everyone for the continued support and lovely requests. hope you enjoy <3

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You’re not sure if you’re too optimistic or a complete fool but either way, you’ve found yourself in a situation you were promised wouldn’t end up in. If you were anyone else, you might be mad but you’re far too overwhelmed to think like that.

“y/n! Hailee! Over here!”

You flinch as another camera flash hinders your vision. Right now is not the best time to be thinking about anything except getting the hell away from everyone.

Everyone except the one person keeping you safe amidst the chaos.

“It’s alright, baby,” Hailee mumbles, no doubt picking up on your rising anxiety. “We’re almost there. Just hang on, okay?”

All you can do is nod in response as her grip on your waist tightens. She pulls you closer to her side, the subtle action filled with all the love and protection she always exudes so easily.

You’re not the only one who notices the affectionate gesture considering the amount of camera clicks that go off the next second. You’re more worried about finally reaching the safety of your home than the number of headlines those pictures will create.

The brunette leads you inside, doing her best not to lose her temper at the paparazzi yelling at you to smile. They’re just doing their job. A job she strictly told her team she didn’t want to be a part of.

You breathe out a sigh of relief once you’re back in the familiar walls of your apartment. It’s not until you move to take your jacket off that you notice how fast your heart is beating and how shaky your hands are. A second longer and you surely would have had an anxiety attack.

Hailee comes to the same conclusion as you once she reaches your side again. “I'm sorry,” she says while her hands find your waist again.

“It's not your fault,” you reply, not so subtly reaching up to wipe away the few tears that blur your vision.

Hailee’s frown deepens and she gently pulls your hand down before taking your face in her hands, her thumbs wiping away the wetness that starts to streak your cheeks. “I should've known they would call the paps on us. They always do this.”

“I get it, it’s your job.”

“My job and my life are two separate things, love. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Lee, it’s fine.” You both know you’re lying but you’re far too tired to have this conversation all over again. The problem wasn’t whether to go public with your relationship or not, the problem was the number of people involved in the decision. A decision that ultimately wasn't yours to make.

“Okay,” she relents. “Let me make it up to you, though.”

She attempts to move away, probably to put on a movie so the two of you can cuddle up on the couch and forget all the unnecessarily complicated details that make up your relationship. You stop her before she can get too far, though, and instead pull her into the embrace you so desperately need.

Her chest rumbles with the affectionate chuckle she can’t hold back. Her arms go around your body in an instant as you rest your head against her shoulder. “I’ve got you, y/n. I promise.”

You don’t doubt her words for a second and yet you don’t understand the full extent of them until much later.

To no one’s surprise, the paparazzi pictures end up going viral leading to countless articles speculating what exactly you and Hailee are to each other. Neither of you cares much but of course, that doesn’t stop everyone who knows the truth about your relationship from freaking out.

You’re given the usual advice you’re used to hearing from both your friends and your girlfriend’s PR team. Advice that just boils down to people who have no business butting into your relationship telling you to break up or, at the very least, put some distance between you until everything cools down.

It’s not something either of you plan on doing but you agree to tone down your affectionate displays for a while. It hurts more than you’re willing to admit but you know Hailee’s not doing it to be malicious, she’s just trying to keep you safe from the constant criticism that looms over your head nowadays.

Criticism that doesn’t bother you…until it does.

Somehow, Hailee manages to convince you to join her for an interview a few weeks after the paparazzi incident. There’s no real reason for you to go with her other than she wants you there and well, how can you say no to her puppy dog eyes?

You’re sitting a few feet away from where your girlfriend and the interviewer are set up, your eyes focused on the brunette’s radiant beauty more than anything else.

“So, you’ve been pretty hush-hush about where the inspiration for these songs has come from,” the interviewer says.

Hailee chuckles, her eyes drifting toward you for a split second before she focuses again. “Yeah, well, being cryptic is part of my charm. Why spoil the fun, right?”

“The rumors don’t bother you?” The question seems simple enough but you know by now these situations are never what they seem.

“Which ones?” She jokes.

“The ones that say you wrote Coast after having a fun time with y/n down by the beach.”

The implications of the words and the tone aren’t lost on you and you suddenly regret agreeing to come along. There’s a high chance this section will be edited out of the interview clip but you still can’t believe she genuinely said that.

Hailee does a good job of not letting her anger show on her face but the way she’s gripping her chair gives her away. “Let’s leave y/n out of it. Rumors are just rumors but they’re still uncomfortable to listen to.”

“Right, right,” she says with a nod, acting like she’s going to change the subject. “But I mean, rumors are nothing compared to knowing you’re being used.”

The mask falls and even from this distance, you notice the way her eyes narrow and her jaw clenches. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t think someone like that is dating you just for fun. You’re not exactly being subtle and I’m sure all the attention must feel great.”

The words feel like a punch to the gut.

You’d been spending less time on social media to avoid reading all the theories about your relationship but this…this was insane. Did people really think you were with Hailee for the attention? Were you being made out to be a golddigger and nothing else despite how careful the two of you have been so far?

You tried to tell yourself over and over you didn’t care what anyone said yet your mind seemed to disagree with you. You couldn’t get a single rational thought into your brain.

Whatever Hailee replies to the interviewer doesn’t reach your ears.

Nothing seems to register until you feel her loving touch against your skin. “Come on, darling, let’s get out of here.”

She helps you onto your feet and you instantly lean into her, looking for something to ground you before you get lost in your overwhelmingly loud thoughts. Her arm goes around your waist to pull you close and you focus on the tiny circles her thumb draws against your side. No words are spoken as you start to make your way out of the building.

Even before you reach the doors you can hear the bustling of people gathered outside, no doubt waiting to catch a glimpse of Hailee. The noise makes you groan and your girlfriend is quick to ease your worries.

“It’ll be okay, y/n.” She presses her lips to your temple for a sweet kiss. “Don’t think about them, just focus on me. I’ve got you, remember?”

That night in your apartment seems like a lifetime ago but Hailee’s never broken a promise to you. And you don’t think she’s about to start right now.

“I know,” you reply in a quiet voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You can hear the smile she’s wearing through her words.

She gives you a loving squeeze before resuming the journey away from all the prying eyes that watch you closely. It’s a struggle to get outside even with the security team that opens a path for the two of you.

Everywhere you look there’s a camera or someone demanding answers for questions you can’t even hear over all the noise. Hailee’s grip on you doesn’t waver for a second, her focus entirely on you and making sure you don’t fall prey to your growing anxiety.

You can hear her mumbling words of encouragement against the side of your head. You can’t make out what she’s saying but the soft tone of her voice is more than enough to keep you calm…or as calm as you can manage to be considering the situation.

It feels like hours pass before you finally catch sight of your car. Hailee hands her keys to one of her security guards once you reach the vehicle and she quickly helps you climb inside.

The second the car door is closed, you seek out the warm safety of her embrace. She knows exactly what you need and she guides your face into the crook of her neck. Her arms wrap around you as you cling to her shirt, ignoring the shouts and camera clicks that still fill your ears.

“It’s alright, you’re safe,” she mumbles, her hand running through your slightly disheveled hair. “Everything’s okay.”

You can’t bring yourself to reply just yet and Hailee doesn’t push you. A tense silence hangs over the both of you while the car begins to move. It lingers until you’re finally able to catch your breath and relax your shoulders.

“There we go,” your girlfriend says once she notices the change in your breathing. “Better?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Thank you, babe.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

You let out a soft hum before you ask the question that’s been on your mind this whole time. “Is that really what everyone thinks? That I’m using you?”

“y/n, it doesn’t matter what they think. We’re what matters.”

“It matters a little,” you mutter.

A beat of silence goes by until the brunette speaks up again. “Baby, can you look at me? Please?”

There’s no way you can deny her anything when she uses that tone on you.

You shift a little, making sure your body is still pressed tightly against hers, before lifting your head out of the safety of her neck. You look into her eyes, feeling vulnerable and safe at the same time.

“My love, is it the rumors that bother you or the fact that we have to hide?” She asks, her eyes shifting to find the answer in your features.

“I don’t know.” You hesitate for a second and then tell her the truth. “I get why we’re keeping everything a secret but…I don’t know, I just…I don’t want to hide how I feel for you. I don’t want to worry every time we step outside if we’re standing too close together or looking at each other too long. I just want to be with you…all the time. Does that make sense?”

The little grin on her face is enough of an answer but she goes the extra mile by leaning in and giving you a quick, reassuring kiss. The remaining tension leaves your shoulders the second her lips meet yours. You may have hundreds of ways of showing your support for one another but this one might be your favorite one.

She pulls away from you but rests her forehead against yours. The close proximity allows you to notice the specks of gold hidden in her warm brown eyes. “It makes perfect sense, baby. I want that too.”

“Are you sure?" You find yourself asking. "I know it’s a big step. And a risk.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The car comes to a stop right after those loving words leave her lips. She gives you one more quick kiss before climbing out and leading you inside her home.

You’re greeted by Martini and Brando who distract both of you enough to leave your conversation on the backburner for now. It feels good to be able to relax and spend time together without anything getting in the way and you both take advantage of it.

You’re curled up in bed together when she asks a question that makes your heart stop in the best of ways. “What if we just…come out right now? We can post a picture of us and let everyone figure it out if they want to.“

The answer is as obvious as your love for her. "Okay…but I get to choose the picture."

She laughs, the sound reminding you of all the reasons why no one else compares to your girlfriend. "You've got yourself a deal, love."