#and i need to finish the fic i promised but once i get home it’ll be my priority!

[imaginesmai]

Taken - Azriel

This is long and this is messy. I don't know where this came out, but shoutout to @marscardigan because she requested this fic so long ago I almost forgot. Enjoy the ANGST.

This is a fic inside the baker!reader universe from Right around the corner. You don't need to read the fics to understand but it will help you!

Plot: you're taken in the worst possible situation, and Azriel fights against time to find you.

Warnings: pregnant!reader, blood, wounds, death (not main characters).

You should have closed the bakery a while ago, you knew. You should have also taken a few days off and relay on Elain a bit more. As a matter of a fact, there was a long list of things you should have done better, most of them converged in the last month, but you were busy. And stubborn.

A very busy, very stubborn, very pregnant baker who was closing the bakery way too late.

You had been lucky that morning when you had won the first argument. It was Nyx birthday in a few days, and the boy wanted a special cake with the shadows of his uncle. And you had been working on it even if you were supposed to be on house arrest, only because Azriel was with you at all given time.

But that day, your mate had a meeting and he couldn’t stay with you, so originally you weren’t supposed to go. Originally. Since Azriel loved Nyx as much as you, he had agreed to leave you at the bakery on your own and not chain you to bed.

You hoped that agreement was still valid if he discovered how late it was.

“Alright” you muttered, looking down at the cake with your hands resting on your swollen belly. “I think it’s coming just fine, huh? One more floor and it’ll be the event of the year”

The cake had a base covered in black chocolate, small curls that simulated shadows coming from the bottom. You had already finished the worst part, and had the rest of the shadows ready in the oven for tomorrow.

While you admired your work, you rubbed your hands absentmindedly across your stomach. At the beginning on the third trimester, you looked ready to give birth. Maybe it was because of the wings, or maybe the baby already took upon his father’s size.

“I hope your tastes are less expensive than your cousin’s” you said, smiling when your rubs were answered by a strong kick. “That didn’t feel like agreeing”

The shadows that were already yours pushed you once more to the door, like they had been doing for the past hours, since the sun came down. Raising your hands up in defeat, you took the first step back home.

“Alright, I’m going. I’m going” you chuckled as they pressed more urgently now that you started walking. “I’m fine, it’s late but I’m finishing. Promise to put my feet up when I get home”

Talking with the shadows and with your baby was as common as talking to yourself. Just as Azriel, you seemed to understand what they wanted to tell you. You endured their constant tugging and pulling as you closed off the bakery.

Only when the door was locked and you turned to take the few steps to your house, you realized just how late it was.

“Oh” you blinked, looking around you. The babe sent another, softer kick.

The street was empty, the night silent. Not even the few cats that purred in the shadows happened to be there that night. Even though it was a summer night, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you put the key on your pocket and took the already usual wobbly steps.

At any given moment, you liked to think, you would have been more aware. Azriel had trained you for it, his family had too in the last years. But still, that one time you would have used any of that training, you couldn’t.

Your hand only made it to the knock of your door when the faebane arrow went clean through your shoulder. A clothe covered your mouth as the few shadows tried to blind whoever was behind you, not given you any time to scream or call for help. Gripping onto the last thread of consciousness, you tugged on the bond.

-

The meeting was taking far longer than what he would have liked.

It was supposed to be easy, to talk the problems out and to let Keir go with a warning. That was why Rhysand had asked him to come along, so that his shadows would snoop around while the male was busy. Because, if the high lord had known it would take so long, he wouldn’t have dared to separate Azriel from you.

Since you both solved your last argument, things had gotten better. He was ready to give himself to you, to become a better man for you and to be what you needed. And seven months ago, it had kept going – you were pregnant, with his child.

And if Azriel thought you were beautiful before, watching your body swell with a new life, watching you become a mother, made you perfect. The thought of you and your future child was what kept him put during hours.

He had known you were at the bakery alone; had known he was supposed to be home before dinner. But he waited, because he didn’t have a reason not to. Azriel felt a tug at the bond during the meeting, and sent a reassuring pull back.

He waited, until Keir left and he put a foot out of Hewn City. Cassian was waiting for them with his arms crossed, his back to their brothers.

“Missed us much?” Rhysand teased, letting himself smile for the first time in that day. “Is staying with – what’s wrong?”

Cassian turned around and his face fell. Azriel recognized earlier than Rhysand the fall of his shoulders, the slump on his wings. There was tension and pain written all over his face. His spymaster-mind ran over a few possibilities before his brother locked eyes with him – an attack to Velaris, an update about Beron’s plans, the revolution in the human’s lands. He even had time to worry about Nyx.

Then, he locked eyes and his breath got stuck in his throat.

“What?” he blurted out. The look on Cassian’s face threatened to swallow him down a spiral of panic. “Cassian, what?”

“What happened?” Rhysand asked, although he was already reading the general’s mind.

“Y/N’s been taken. Don’t know where yet or why” the general spoke, without dropping Azriel’s burning gaze. “I’ve got guards up in the sky and through Velaris”

“Taken?” the high lord asked again, frowning.

“Your shadows came into the wind house, somehow… Nyx knows. He told us what they saw. We are looking for her already, don’t panic. We will find her”

Rhysand could see through Cassian’s eyes, the burst of Azriel’s shadows and a crying Nyx in his room, waking him up. His son telling him about the shadows warning him in his sleep, asking the general if it was true and why they said that.

He looked at Azriel, who looked as pale as the bone wall behind them. The Illyrian tried to come up with something to say, just as he had done in so many similar occasions. It was him who remained calm when Rhysand went under the mountain, when Nyx’s life was threatened just after he was born. Azriel made plans, he was a skilled warrior.

Still, he could only tug on the bond and horrify at the emptiness that came back.

“I can’t feel her” he confessed, finally looking away from Cassian to Rhysand. “Why? Why can’t I feel her?”

“She isn’t dead” his brother answered immediately. “You would know. It’s the faebane, you won’t feel her if they have used it. Cassian, what do we know?”

“No smells, no traces. Bakery was empty and her apartment too. They must have taken her in between”

“Who would fucking take a pregnant woman?” Azriel blurted out. “She’s pregnant. She’s – fuck! In between? It’s – it’s two steps! There’s no space in between!”

“What else?” Rhysand ignored him.

“They sent a note”

Azriel’s panic died down for a moment when Cassian handed his high lord the note. He quickly snatched it away. Barely able to keep in place, he turned his back to his brothers and shamelessly used his shadows in his favor.

He heard his name being called, felt Rhysand demanding to be let in. His own power wasn’t a match for the high lord’s, but it would keep them out enough to read the note.

One of the first rules he applied when it came to kidnappings was to keep the family and loved ones out of it. They didn’t think clearly, and without wanting to, could endanger the victim. But it wasn’t just a person, it was you.

So, ignoring his own rules, he opened the note.

If you want Y/N and the baby safe, the spymaster will present himself at the given coordinates before sunrise. Impaled with faebane and with no hidden tricks. Once we deem so, we will deliver the girl in Windhaven.

Each hour past sunrise will be paid. Don’t be late.

We do not appreciate being hunted.

There were words, that made sentences, and that should have made sense. But all Azriel could see was your name, the word baby, and feel his chest tighten. That wasn’t a clue, there was no way they would find them before sunrise and bring you home to him. Right then, he understood why they kept family out of those types of matters.

The note was snatched out of his hands by a very angry looking Rhysand, with a pained Cassian behind his back.

As Rhysand read the note, Azriel let himself have a moment of sorrow. He turned every emotion upside down, explored them instead of refusing to acknowledge. For years, he had feared the possibility of you being taken from his side. There would be time to panic once he had you in his arms, to worry about the baby once he could touch your belly once more and check your pulse and breathing.

Azriel tugged on the bond once more, feeling the crushing emptiness back. There was nothing, and he was threatened to become nothing too. Instead, he tugged on the faint, thin bond that was still developing. It was barely a thread of your own, fragile but promising.

The bond with your child had been the cause of your discovery. One day it was only the two of you, and then Azriel felt something else. He tugged on that and, even if he didn’t receive anything back, he knew.

“They’re in the mountains” he looked at his brothers. “Can’t say where, but far from Windhaven”

“How are you sure?” Cassian asked, but Rhysand smiled knowingly. Sadly.

“The other bond. You shouldn’t pull too hard, Az. It’s – “

“I won’t. But I’m not letting one second go if I can find her” Azriel cut him off with a hard look. “You’re wasting your time in Velaris”

“Don’t you dare, Az”

Cassian words were lost in the wind as he winnowed away, Rhysand barely touching his forearm. He knew he shouldn’t tug on the bond so soon in his child’s life, that it would only put him at risk. Risk an early labor, risk your discomfort. But if it meant it would take him back to you, he would rip the word apart piece by piece.

-

You didn’t know how, but after all those years, all those good memories built that replaced the bad ones, you just knew. You recognized the painted walls, the stains on the ground, and the smell from the fire.

Nothing had changed over the centuries that had passed by, you realized. The tavern was just as terrible as it had been, just as dirty. They were just as tall and broad as they were, although not that many. And you were that scared girl that they ripped their wings from, tucked into a corner.

While they stared at you, you only hug your belly and tried to keep your tears at bay.

You had woken up a while ago, and they had only whispered between them. From what you had gathered, they didn’t expect the pregnancy, and were worried about it. The one who had clipped your wings so long ago wasn’t around, thanks to Azriel, but you recognized their faces.

You also recognized the blood stains on the ground and walls, courtesy of your mate and probably the reason you were in that position.

“It has closed” one of them broke the silence, frowning. “Why has it closed so soon? We just took it out”

“Must be the babe” the taller one, whom you remembered to be called Sandor, shrugged.

“It’s the third time – “

“All right, girl, you already know to stay put” Sandor sighed, as if it was a simple routine.

You refused to talk, refused to anger them just like you had done in the past and pay for your actions. It wasn’t just your life in the game, and right then, your priority wasn’t it.

With only the moon light through the window, Sandor knelt in front of you and grabbed a clean arrow. Two bloodied ones were discarded on the ground, ripped out of your shoulder and arm. Apparently, they didn’t want to risk you healing around the arrow, in case it would somehow affect the baby.

That didn’t mean they weren’t willing to stick another one once the wound was closed and there was a chance of Azriel feeling you through the bond.

For a moment, Sandor hesitated. It was clear that he wasn’t comfortable about your belly or the situation. Hurting you to get Azriel might had been fine, but hurting pregnant-you was debatable.

“Just do it, man. You might already ring the bells and light a bonfire” the nameless one snapped.

“Do you want to do it?” Sandor turned around on his knees. “Clyde, I’ve got a pregnant woman at home. And she looks ready to burst”

“It’s not your woman, it’s his. Do you want to stare at what used to be Burton?” Clyde pointed to the darkest stain. “Tell him if he wants to consider, take his time”

As they argued, you finally felt it. A tug, a breeze, nothing more than a feeling, but it was there. It was Azriel pulling at the bond like his life depended on it, with so much strength you were sure he was using power that wasn’t only his.

You blinked surprised at the change. It had taken you all your willpower not to panic when you woke up feeling nothing on the other side, and they hadn’t let enough time for your body to recover from the fae bane to feel it again. But as they argued, you silently cherished the discovery. Maybe it was the baby’s strength, maybe it was the cauldron leaning in your favor or any other force, but not only you were healing fast – you were getting the bond back.

Still looking at them, you tugged back. The bond went silent for a second, and you pressed against it again. You were hit with an overwhelming amount of worry, of fear but also love and relief. Azriel’s emotions became yours, and you were so glad it was about to be over that you unfocused your gaze.

It was enough for Clyde to notice your far-away look, and realize what was happening.

“Fuck, she’s warning him!” Clyde rushed forwards, taking the arrow out of Sandor’s grip. “You think you’re so smart?”

You blinked your fogginess away when he walked towards you, coming back to your senses. There wasn’t enough amount of love or assurance Azriel could send you that would stop you from panicking.

“No, wait” you pushed yourself farther into the corner as he moved closer, screaming at Azriel as loud as you could through the watered bond. “I didn’t! I didn’t!”

“You knocked-up, useless, brat” he gripped your ankle and pushed you towards him, your back and head hitting the ground. “Let’s see how you tell him this”

The momentary pain of hitting the ground wasn’t enough to drown the anguish of having a new arrow dug into your leg, just above your knee. The ceiling became blurry and his voices tuned out as you screamed in pain, your bounded hands trying aimlessly to break free.

You couldn’t remember the pain from the first one, seeing you were knocked out, and Sandor had managed to make the other one hurt less. But Clyde pushed his body weight onto your leg, the bottom of the arrow piercing the ground. You looked up and watched horrified as blood started leaking out through your pants and under your leg.

Moving away from him only caused the arrow to shift, but being near him was putting your baby close to the monster. So, in your panic, you tried to ease the pain by lifting your leg while shifting farther into the corner.

“How’s the bond now, uh? Is your pussy boy there?” he chuckled, while Sandor looked away. “Go on, tell him how bad we are”

“We should move” the third one spoke for the first time. “If he has felt her, he knows”

“You heard the boss” rough hands tried to push you up while you cried out.

“No” you repeated, letting Clyde put your whole weight up and almost collapsing after him. “Please, just let me go. Let me go”

Gone was the keep-quiet-don’t-talk. The tears kept rolling down your cheeks as Sandor stepped on your other side, holding you up a bit gentler than Clyde. Your baby started kicking on your side, and between the pain and desperation, you felt like throwing up and passing out.

Their chatter as they discussed what to do next was background noise. Certainly, they weren’t taking the arrow out that time, risk or no risk of being sealed inside and affecting the baby. You could barely stand up between your kidnappers and remember how to breath at the same time.

You wanted Azriel, that was the only thing you were certain. You shouldn’t have closed so late, you shouldn’t have gone to the bakery on your own, and you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed that morning. The baby agreed with you, answering each thought with a powerful kick to your kidneys and bladder.

You tried desperately to think about positive things, to keep yourself sane enough. Closing your eyes, you thought about him. His hazel eyes, that shone with a special light when he saw you between the crowd. His mouth, that curled up so lightly every time you stared at him. The freckles in his cheeks, that one that snuck up to the corner of his eye.

You could almost hear his voice reminding you to breath carefully and gain control of your body when the pregnancy pain hit, and you tried to do the same. Taking a deep breath through your mouth, holding it in. Letting it go through your nose.

“Oh, sure, because winnowing her again is the best solution, right?” Sandor scoffed loudly.

You moved your toes lightly, relieved to notice that despite the burning and overwhelming pain, you could still feel everything. From your feet to your head, you twitched every part of your body, finally able to breathe through the pain.

That didn’t mean you could move without them hauling you up, or that the baby was anymore happy.

“Enough! We’re moving now. Grab the things. We winnow – “ the anonymous man startled you, making you look up.

“I need to go the bathroom” you whispered, although it was heard as if you shouted it.

Three pair of eyes looked at you with raised brows, one pair certainly more annoyed than the other two. You didn’t know how far had it been since they took you, but it was still night time. During the last weeks, you had been paying a visit to your bathroom at least once every two hours.

And that was being generous.

The babe kicked again against your bladder, making your knees wobble. If you didn’t catch a bathroom, in a minute, you would have to let go.

“Sure. Do you want me run a bath too? Clyde, you could massage her feet. Is our lady tired of standing up for so long?”

“Nestor, she’s pregnant” Sandor was the only one looking slightly affected by your request. “My Lorren – “

“Your Lorren is home and we are here. Stop with Lorren!” Clyde let you go to push Sandor’s shoulders, which made you stumble back.

“I’m not carrying her if she’s gonna pee herself”

“She’s gonna be a big girl and hold it, right?” Nestor gave you a tense smile. “And you’re going to winnow her to the cabin”

“I’m not taking her to the cabin, man”

And while you stood up and waited for them to decided where to take you, you felt your bladder giving up. It wouldn’t be the first time you peed yourself, and with the strength your baby was kicking you right then, you were amazed that you managed to hold it for a few seconds.

Clyde and Nestor kept arguing loudly about the cabin, while Sandor just looked at you with a scrunched nose. You would have felt embarrassed, but you were in pain, you were scared and tired. It was hard to stay standing at any given moment with your belly. Whether it was the wings or the baby’s size, you were heavy.

The discomfort of the arrow was starting to become secondary. Even though you had just peed yourself, you still felt the kicks against your bladder – and almost against every part of your soul. You gripped the only thing available when another wave of kicks hit you, that being Sandor’s arm.

The man realized at the same time you did what was happening, although he didn’t have time to voice it out.

“Damn it!” Clyde barely missed the door coming out of its hinges. He didn’t miss the knife that embedded itself on his throat.

“Sandor, shoot him!” Nestor yelled to his friend, who was too busy keeping you off the ground now that the only support was holding his open neck. “Shoot!”

“Pathetic”

His voice was like a cold breeze in the summer, the feeling of his shadows helping you gently to stand up making your breath speed up once more.

Azriel appeared like a dark angel through the open door, his eyes not even leaving you as he stopped an arrow with his bare hand. His wings covered the moon behind him, but they didn’t stop the next figure coming through. Before Clyde hit the ground still chocking on his last breath, Rhysand had winnowed himself and Nestor out of the tavern.

You briefly wondered if death by Azriel’s hands right then would have been better than by the spymaster’s hands later.

Your mate said nothing as Sandor was ripped out of your side. Only by gripping his arm and pulling him away from you, you heard the awful crack of his arm breaking into two.

Sandor cried out, only getting a few seconds to acknowledge his arm before his left wing is ripped out of his back. Azriel’s shadows assessed your body with a sickening speed, coming to the same conclusion you had.

You were lowered softly onto the ground, silently watching what Azriel had always hidden from you. The unleveled part of him, the one that came out when someone he loved was in danger. He feared that part would take you away from him. But as you watched your mate tear Sandor to pieces, you only felt relief at his presence.

The male wasn’t done screaming for his life when he fell dead to the side. His mangled body was blocked from your view by training leathers and tearful hazel eyes. Everything he had felt during the last hours, that he had denied himself from so he would find you, crashed hard.

His scarred hands held your face while he scanned your body, stopping on your untouched belly and bleeding wound. He didn’t even flinch when he touched your soaked pants to pull it out.

The pain you were in in that moment prevented you from feeling anything more than a discomfort at the pull.

“You’re alive” Azriel cried out, not holding his tears back. “I thought – for a moment, I thought… I couldn’t feel you. And then I did, but you were gone. I didn’t know what had happened. I almost died, Y/N. You’re alive. You’re okay”

“Az” you whined, one of your hands gripping his shoulder harder than it was necessary.

“The baby’s bond… I followed it to the mountains. I know I shouldn’t, but I pulled it” he placed one hand on your belly, laughing tearfully when he felt a kick back. “I love you. I love you both so much”

There weren’t words to explain what Azriel had felt in the last few hours. How he had stumbled down into the snow when he had felt your end of the bond alive, how desperate he had been to follow it. Then, it had gone dark and if it wasn’t for Rhysand following him, he would have crashed right there.

He was glad his brother had been there, that he had taken a male away for questioning. Once you were safe and with Madja, he would make sure to take his time.

Azriel pressed a shaky, wet kiss to your forehead, then another one to your nose. He kissed each and every tear that had stained your cheeks in the past hour, finally pressing his lips against yours.

When he moved back, ready to winnow you both back to Velaris and hold you close for a week, he was surprised to see new tears running down your cheeks. What he thought was terror for the kidnapping, the anguish of your captors, hadn’t left your face.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned, leaving his own despair for later and looking back at your body.

“Az” you repeated.

You had realized what was happening before him, had known just before Sandor. His shadows couldn’t possibly understand what was happening, and so, Azriel didn’t. Any pain you had felt during that night paled away from the complete, absolute fear the crippled you as you stared at your mate in that dark tavern, where your worst memories had taken place.

“I’m here” he reminded you, his hand caressing the belly. “Where does it –“

“It’s coming” you finally admitted, watching the realization hitting him. “The baby’s coming”

It had felt like peeing yourself, like normal kicks, you guessed. What had given it away was crippling, motherly realization that your baby wanted out. That bond that had connected you to it was more present than ever, and somehow, you knew.

Azriel paled even more if that was possible. Right there, sitting in the dirty, bloodied and now empty tavern, your water had broken. You wanted to break down crying, because of course, given your history your baby would choose that moment.

When Azriel didn’t say anything, you lip wobbled again. Because, if he didn’t have the answers, who would?

“It’s coming” you said again, feeling like a broken record. “What do we do? What -?”

“I’ll winnow us to Velaris” Azriel interrupted you, knowing the answer before saying it.

“Madja said we can’t” you reminded him, although he already knew. “Oh God. Az, it’s coming. What do we do? I’m having a baby. I’m having a baby!”

Indeed, one of the first things Madja had advised you against was winnowing while pregnant. So close to the date, it would only trigger an early labor – and on the date, it would be dangerous to the baby and you. Rhysand would be back in Velaris by then, probably thinking you two were just fine and happy together once more.

And winnowing away to warn him and bring someone was out of the equation, since he wouldn’t be leaving you for a while now.

So Azriel gathered himself together and gave you a hesitant smile.

“We can do it” Azriel whispered, not sure of the truth behind his words.

“What?”

“I’m not leaving you. We’re here together, and we can do it. Madja told us what it’s like” Azriel tried to sound confident for you, for the both of you, but it came out as a question.

“We’re having a baby”

“We’re having a baby”

The first rays of sun entered through the empty space where the door was as you stared into his eyes. You could risk winnowing back and losing the baby and your life, or you could send away Azriel and hope he made it in time back with Madja or any other healer. Neither of those options felt like surviving to you, so you nodded at him and willed that tear to be the last one.

Azriel leaned in and kissed you softly. His lips were salty, from his tears or your own, and kind. While his shadows brushed every available part of your body, you let yourself forget about the closing wound, about the trembling of your knees and the pain in your belly.

Kissing him would always feel like the first time, like fireworks and Starfall. His nosed brushed your own and his tongue deepened the kiss. One of his hands cupped the back of your head, the hair there already covered in sweat. Even it was cold with the morning breeze, you were ready to get out of your body.

The kiss ended way too soon, just as another kick, or contraction, hit you harder than before. You sucked a breath and almost stumbled to the ground.

Azriel was quick to roll his sleeves up, lowering you until you were laying on the ground. Looking up at him, he gave you reassuring smile and hesitant nod.

“We’re having a baby” he squeezed your shoulder.

You tried to smile as another contraction hit and the first scream broke the silent morning.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @wallacewillow0773638 @clara-geekhime @kalulakunundrum @saltedcoffeescotch @originalcrusadetrash @mel-wcst @ailyr92 @bubybubsters @chickensrock3 @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @wallacewillow0773638 @just-m-2 @theravenphoenix26 @glitterypirateduck @a-frog-with-a-laptop @justdreamstars

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel one shot #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar one shot #acotar fic #acotar x reader #imaginesmai #imaginemai #imagine #x reader #one shot #fic #shadowsinger x reader #shadowsiner

[moonlight-prose]

✧ WRETCHED AND JOYFUL ✧

a/n: this was meant to be posted yesterday, but i could not for the life of me write anything. my brain was stalled and kind of broken. kinktober has really gifted me with a different kind of burnout. but in a lovely turn of events i managed to finished off two fics last night to catch up! i hope you enjoy this one.

day twenty-two - dom/sub + rough sex | kinktober 2023

summary: "he would be your end and all that came next. he’d be your consequence in a world that sought out punishment rather than forgiveness. your small slice of joy in the wretched ways of reality."

word count: 1.9k+

pairing: tommy miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, dom!tommy, sub!reader, breeding kink, oral (f receiving), religious trauma cause it was that kind of night, the aftereffects of listening to hozier, angst, fluff, rough sex, tommy can't shut the fuck up for the life of him but we love him for that, dirty talk, aftercare, not edited or beta read, we live and die by this fucking pen.

You always thought he’d be the one to stop your heart. The one who could bring you to the very edge of existence and push you over. A fate that had always been solidified in stone. Like the prayers that came before—the belief that had once lingered on the Earth. He would be your end and all that came next. He’d be your consequence in a world that sought out punishment rather than forgiveness.

Your small slice of joy in the wretched ways of reality.

And there you stood at the edge of it all, taking in the view, and willing to fall if he asked.

There was comfort in his promises that he often whispered to you at night. Speaking of a time where neither of you would have to suffer. Where you could live peacefully together, possibly grow together in a way you couldn’t there in the middle of nowhere. In a spot on the world where you were simply two people clinging together. All with the lingering hope that the words he spoke would one day come true.

He spoke them even now, whispering them against your skin with each kiss. The tenderness in their soft brush. His lips held you captive, stuck in the place beyond pleasure—turning you pliant beneath his touch. Eventually his lips would find yours again in the lantern lit room, but for now you allowed them to drag along your stomach, finding the patch of curls where you needed him most.

“Gonna build you a home one day,” he murmured, fingers spreading you gently. As if he was about to partake in something sacrilegious that deserved the tenderness of a sinner.

“Tommy,” you gasped, fingers delving into his curls and tugging when he sucked one of your lips into his mouth, moaning at the slight taste that spread across his tongue.

“It’ll be big and beautiful.” His tongue slid through your folds, grinning at the broken high pitched cry that echoed in the room. “Lots of room for us.”

He ate you like you were the apple fallen from the tree. Sweet enough to cause him to sin and if you were to say the word he’d do it. He’d kill for you—he had killed for you. He allowed blood to cover his palms to keep you safe in the hopes that he’d be able to worship at your altar. To taste the sweetness that emitted from your body—drinking you down as if you would heal him from his past. And perhaps you would. Tommy liked to believe that you were without even knowing it.

“Fuck,” you moaned, the sound dragged out and low when he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth.

“You taste delicious.” He’d barely gotten a taste and sounded drunk. As if he couldn’t get enough of everything you could give him—willing you to take it for him until you couldn’t anymore.

“Fuck me,” you whined, tugging at his hair. “Please Tommy. Need it baby.”

He sucked in a breath, fingers digging sharply into your thighs. “Yeah honey? You need my cock?”

Clambering to his knees, he dragged your thighs around his hips, watching in awe as the slick across his fingers spread along your skin. A shiny picture of debauchery. The breath caught in his throat, eyes darkening at the sight of you spread out beneath him—mouth open in a soft silent moan as his fingers dipping back into your slick. Swirling around your clit and causing your body to jolt.

“What if I just make you cum like this huh?” His cock twitched at the thought. “Get myself off til I’m ready to fill you up.”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your stomach. “I-I need—”

Grasping onto his cock, he tapped it against your clit, smiling at the sound that tore from you. “You need it baby I know.”

His other hand reached up to palm your breast, tugging at your nipple and watching in rapture as your back curved up. Pressing your body further into his touch. His head spun at the sight. Completely at his mercy and begging for more. It snapped something in his brain. Bringing forth feelings he didn’t know existed. He wanted to watch you beg, hear the sweet sounds of your need echo in the room until it burrowed in the depths of his chest.

Tommy wasn’t a cruel man. But for this…he’d take.

“You gonna beg me for it?” He slid his cock through your folds, biting back a groan at the wet heat of you. Although the words weren’t coming from your mouth, your body was indeed begging him. “C’mon honey. Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting the dark black of his. He was five seconds from being completely gone. Ready to fucking devour you as if you were the remedy to his need. The one thing that could satiate the hunger in his body. He wanted to hear you beg so you did exactly that. You covered his hand still on your breast and dragged it up to your throat, allowing his large palm to cover the warm skin there.

“Want you to fuck me full of your cum baby,” you breathed, face warm from the words that came from your mouth.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “You’re fuckin’ filthy aren’t ya honey?”

You nodded with a whine, hips canting up as he dragged his cock through your slick once more. “Need it.”

“Yeah baby?” He notched the head of his cock at your entrance, fingers flexing around your throat. “You need me to fuck you full? Want me to spill out of you for days?”

Before you could even get the answer out, he thrust into you smoothly. Listening to the cry that bounced off the walls around him. He felt the way your walls clamped down around his cock, dragging a low growl from his chest. A sound that you felt down to your toes. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for his body to calm down slightly, but there was no use.

Neither of you would last very long.

He pulled out, the tip resting at your entrance before he slammed back in. The sound of your cunt sucking him back burned up his spine. It broke the thin strand of control he had left, the ability to go slow and savor his time with you. Tommy was starving. A man whose sole purpose was to watch you break, to flood him with your pleasure.

Gripping onto your throat, his eyes met yours, teeth bared as he bit back his release and set a pace that nearly had you jolting up the bed. His cock rammed into you, the wet sounds of your slick slicing through the cold night air. Each thrust sent a mewl up your throat, your fingers digging into his forearm as he used the hold he had on your throat to pull you back on his cock. He grunted with each shift, the pool of heat in his body nearly suffocating him.

But none of that deterred him from staying silent.

“‘M gonna fuck you in our house,” he grunted, dragging your hip even higher up his hip. “Make sure we fill it.”

You gasped, eyes rolling back. The thought of Tommy wanting to fuck you so full that you had his kid rewired something in your brain. Setting your entire body alight. The need to please him overwhelmed you, body moving to meet his thrusts with small ones of your own.

“You like that huh honey.” He grinned at the way you keened for him—the head of his cock grinding against your walls. “You want that? Want to fill our house?”

“Tommy!” You scrambled for purchase along his body, nails scratching along his skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pounding into you until the bed began to ram against the wall. “Can feel you fuckin’ leakin’ for me. My good girl. Perfect baby.”

His thumb found your clit, hand pressing down on your throat until your body went taut. There you were at the very edge of the cliff. Willing to fall, but you couldn’t. Not until you heard the three little words that would consume your body in the flame that you longed for. He pulled you up slightly, contorting your body until you were nearly bent in half—his lips finding yours in a punishing kiss. One that stole all the breath in your lungs.

“Cum for me,” he rasped, cock dragging along your walls right where you needed, nearly kissing your cervix with each sharp thrust. “Soak my fuckin’ cock baby and I’ll give it to you.”

As if he held control over your body, you felt the dam burst. A burning pleasure flooded every one of your senses until you could barely hear the words he continued to speak. Gripping onto his curls, you kept his lips on yours, moaning when his tongue slid along yours, tasting the desire that was prominent in your mouth. He grunted roughly, his hands holding you so tight the skin would be tender, as he took his own pleasure.

Until he was just as sated as you were.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, hand moving to find yours and slam it against the mattress, fingers interlocking tightly. “You want it baby? Want my cum?”

Nodding frantically, you tightened your legs around his hips. “Fill me up Tommy. Give me all of it.”

He cried into your mouth, hips stuttering as he broke. Spurting harshly into your cunt until his head went fuzzy and body nearly gave in. He felt you reach between your body, fingers trailing through the trail on his stomach, until your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. Massaging him gently and making sure that every drop spilled into you. That you would be full for days to come.

Kissing you messily, he felt your spit trail down your chin, eyes fluttering open in a fucked out daze—lips curving into a smile. “Thank you baby.”

His cock twitched, a punched out groan tearing from his chest. “You’re tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me,” he huffed.

You wrapped your arms around his body, letting him fully sink into your warmth with a soft hum. His lips still attached to yours. There was a tenderness there that still remained despite the rough way he broke you. A gentle piece of his soul that had survived the brutality of this world. Even though you thought yourself lost to the darkness, willing to survive as a broken shell of who you used to be. Tommy managed to bring you back to life.

He nudged his nose along yours, fingers trailing gently along your cheek before he moved. Dragging you up with him even though you still clung to his broad shoulders, a soft whine of disappointment echoing in the back of your throat.

“C’mon honey,” he said softly, leading you towards the small tub in the corner of the room. “Let’s take a bath?”

Smiling, you allowed him to prep the water, never straying from you for too long. As if he was tied to your very being, forever a part of your soul. Or perhaps he’d been there all along. Perhaps the world had been biding its time waiting to gift you with his presence. All to give you a chance at happiness once more.

To once again find the lost joy in this wretched world.

#tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x y/n #tommy miller smut #tommy miller #the last of us fic #my writing #kinktober 2023

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 3

Author's Note: I'm truly proud of this one, I love how it came together and I'm so excited to keep going! (I haven't forgotten about Collision, I'm just slightly addicted to Oberyn right now. You're just gonna have to forgive me.)

Description: Oberyn works to uncover the mystery of your survival, but when the time comes to go home, you find yourself conflicted.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, eventual romance, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, reader gets a nickname, this one is mostly Oberyn's pov and he thinks a bit more old-fashioned. Small time jump. Angst. Word Count: 5740 Author's Masterlist

   His fingers are deft and practiced as he draws samples of your blood, but the silence between you is awkward, and you’re not sure why.    Maybe because of how shocked he’d been at your embrace earlier. It makes you wonder how long it’s been since he was touched by someone. Even just platonically.    You’d been too distressed to notice your own reaction to him this time, but it had been there once you’d pulled back. The same inexplicable heat.

   “How much do you need?” you ask, mostly just to break the tension.

   “Four vials should do for now,” he replies in a tone much more neutral than what fits with his expression.

   “I’m sorry about… before,” you try, but he doesn’t get the vague reference.

   He looks up and meets your eyes with a silent question in his brows.

   “The hug,” you elaborate, averting your gaze before the two small words have even finished leaving your lips.

   You’re not really ashamed to have needed comfort, that much no one would judge you for after the last twenty-four hours of your life. What bothers you is that you don’t understand why you felt safe to seek it from him.    No matter who (or what) he is, you shouldn’t be this at ease around him, it goes against every grain of reason and common sense. The man is holding you against your will.

   “Don’t apologize to me, young one. I have you at a terrible disadvantage,” he says, and he sounds entirely unamused by his own words.

   “Okay, can you start calling me something other than that, please. No matter how much older than me you might be, it sounds so wrong when someone who looks to be my age calls me that. It makes me feel like a schoolgirl.”

   He looks somewhat perplexed at that.

   “What would you prefer?”

   “I don’t know, just make up a nickname for me that has nothing to do with age.    I’d tell you my real name, but you have enough power over me already.”

   Finishing up the blood-draw and placing a small band aid on the punctured skin, he seems to ponder that, and something about it amuses him.

   “How about Kaivalya? It means freedom,” he suggests, and you raise a brow in scrutiny.

   It’s a mouthful, but kinda beautiful too. Still, if he’s gonna name you something with that implication, he’d better own up to it.

   “I’ll consider that a promise.”

   “As intended,” he agrees, smiling slightly while he inclines his head at you in a little bow.

   Why does that tiny indication that he respects you, make your stomach flutter?

   “Let’s shorten it to Valya or Val, though,” you suggest, trying to kill the highly inappropriate butterflies with bland conversation. “The whole thing is too cumbersome.”

   “Well then, you’re all done for now, Valya. Thank you.”

   “How long do you think it’ll take to analyze it?”

   “That’s hard to say. It all depends on what I find,” he says and then gets up to put three of the vials into a fridge, leaving one for him to get started on right away. “But you have my word that I will keep you informed.    Until then, as I said, you move around the castle at your own risk.”

   “Will the dragon come back?” you ask, only slightly less frightened of the prospect, now that you know that he has some sort of relationship with it.

   “Yes. But not for a while yet.”

   “How do you know?”

   “He brought you here after he had tried to feed on you and failed. And he stayed for a while to find out if you would mutate, after noticing that it had not happened as quickly as it usually does.    But he had still not fed, so he had to hunt again. That’s why you saw him leave the castle.    He was successful this time, though. Which means he’ll be laying low for a while now.”

   “Oh. I didn’t realize that he was the one who’d brought me here. But I guess that makes sense. Dragons fly, after all,” you ponder, and you’re starting to feel quite ambiguous about this beast.

   On the one hand, it tried to eat you, but on the other, it also tried to help you.

   “If something should happen… I mean, if I should start to feel strange or anything, how do I call for help?” you continue after a moment.

   “Scream as loud as you can for as long as you can. If your door is open and you’re facing the stairwell, the sound will travel with the stone.    But I really don’t think that you’re at any risk of that kind of mutation, at this point.”

   “I hope you’re right, and I’m sure you are, I’m just trying to navigate being here. You are keeping me furthest away from absolutely everything, which seems kinda unnecessary.    Wouldn’t it be easier if I just stayed somewhere down here?”

   “I’m not keeping you away from everything, I am trying to keep everything away from you.    You’re safe up there, where the pull from the creatures in the basement cannot possibly reach you, and nothing else is going to find you,” he explains, while he works on taking a first look at your blood through a microscope.

   For a second, you wonder what the hell he means by “nothing else finding you”, but you quickly decide that you don’t wanna think too closely on that.    You get up and start slowly moving towards the door of this makeshift little laboratory of his, somewhere on the second floor of the main body of the castle.

   “Okay, um… Before I go, is there any food?”

   “Of course,” he answers immediately, looking up from the microscope with an apologetic set to his features, as if only just now realizing that you do need food to survive. “The kitchen is at the end of the main hall. That’s the same corridor as the one to my study and the main stairwell you take to get to the tower. Just follow it to the end.    Do you think you can find it?”

   “Yeah, I think so. That’s the one hallway I’m beginning to feel familiar with.”

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   What he had hoped would only take a few days, remains unsolved even after two weeks. He is not skilled enough in genetics, nor does he have the right equipment to try and find anomalies within your DNA. All he can do is visually analyze your cells and the levels of vitamins and minerals in your blood, hoping to find something deviant, as that might indicate where changes have been, or still is, taking place.    But he has yet to succeed. Thus far, every test has come back normal.

   If not for the extremely rapid healing of the bite, he would not have thought that anything about you had been affected, but clearly, something has been.    By rights he should take your samples to a lab and ask that they run a full diagnostic on it with more advanced technology, but he’s afraid that they might discover something about his own genetics, and the thing within him that is responsible for so much death and suffering.

   He has spent thousands of years trying to avoid humans as much as possible, and to do that, he has had to study their psychology rigorously, so he knows what they would do if they ever learned what he is and what he is capable of.    The few sightings of him that have occurred over the millennia, have generated an entire mythology surrounding dragons, and he would much prefer that it remains nothing but stories.

   Still, to his astonishment, you seem to tolerate him quite a lot better than one might think that a victim of assault and kidnapping might. After that first tumultuous day, you have apparently decided that things could be a lot worse, choosing to focus instead on the fact that you are alive and doing very well, despite the worry of mutation.    You insist that he join you for dinner every evening, to keep yourself from going stir crazy with isolation, and he finds that he is increasingly intrigued by your character.

   You are kind and considerate, but only when you feel that it’s justified. You like to be useful and you’re clearly accustomed to handling yourself and whatever problems you face, but you will ask for help if you come across a task that is too difficult for you.    Pride seems to be something you take only from knowing your own strength, not necessarily needing to show or prove it to anyone else. Which is an attractive trait for anyone to have, but especially someone so attractive in other ways as well.

   The monster that he is, he has always refused to take a partner, for fear that he would end up eating them and then having to live with that regret.    You are the first woman to test his resolve in this matter for at least two thousand years.    Before then, he had still tried to hope that he might not have to live all alone for eternity. A hope that had died for good after he had turned a young woman into a creature like those in the belly of this castle right now, forever poisoning him away from the allure of the fairer sex.

   Or so he had thought.

   There are moments when he is around you, when your gaze seems to shift into something warm and inviting, sparking a heat within his chest the likes of which he has never before known. It sets a blush to his usually so tempered skin and triggers a craving in his blood that has nothing to do with sustenance.    It is a frightening feeling to him, something forbidden and dangerous, so he tries to quell it whenever it awakens, but he knows that you notice it and that it makes you curious.

   Today, he awaits your arrival at the dinner table, ready to finally announce the results of his efforts, but he knows that they are unsatisfactory. He has failed to provide the answers that you seek, that you might need in order to lay these horrible events to rest in your soul, and this shames him.    So, when you walk in, smiling at the sight of him having beaten you to the table once again, he does not reciprocate, and you’re instantly on edge.

   “What’s wrong?” you ask, as you take your seat opposite him at the narrow table, and you look more worried now than he’s seen you be since that first night.

   “I have reached the end of my knowledge in my analysis of your blood. I can’t learn anything more than I already have, which, as you know, is unfortunately not much.    You have my sincerest apologies, dear Valya, but I’m afraid that I have no concrete answers to show for it,” he explains, bowing his head to you in the hopes that you will be forgiving.

   Even though you know nothing of the transformation which he may undergo at will, and which is the worst deception he has yet committed against you, there is still more than enough cause for you to despise him.    But instead, your eyes soften at his words.

   “Maybe that’s good news. Maybe it means that there’s nothing wrong with me,” you shrug, and he wants to say that to his eyes, there is absolutely nothing wrong with any part of you.

   But he refrains. Flattery will not do your impressive character justice, and he has every intention of protecting you from his own misguided heart, no matter the pain it might cause him.    Fifteen days. That is all he has had of you, and yet, you seem to have crept into every carefully concealed crevice of his being, entirely without effort.

   “I’ll bring you back to your home later tonight,” he replies, unable to fully mask the sadness that the thought of the castle once again echoing of emptiness, brings him.

   He is, however, most surprised to look into your eyes and see that same sadness within. Surely, you can’t be sorry to finally be free of this haunted and terrible place.

   “Why tonight?” you question, and even that smallest hint of defiance is enough to make him want to change his mind and ask you to stay.

   “I kidnapped you. And while I’m not proud of this, I wish to remain a free man despite my actions. So, I can’t very well return you in broad daylight, as anyone who sees us might grow suspicious,” he says, the last part being yet another lie.

   The real reason is that he needs the cover of night to conceal the span of his wings, the glimmer of his scales, and the size of his claws and teeth.

   “Right, of course,” you say quietly, turning your gaze back down to your plate, before you remember to add something, and look up once more. “And just to ease your mind, I’m not gonna report you to the police, or anything. You may have kidnapped me, but you haven’t mistreated me in any way.    Quite the opposite, really. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so well cared for.”

   He lets his head fall slightly to the side as he considers your words, but your own resolve seems to falter then, and you return your attention to the dish before you. Either to avoid his gaze, or perhaps the thought that you will likely never see him again once this night is over.    The meal passes in silence and the clock seems to spin so much faster than usual, as though time itself is rushing to end this unnatural coupling.

   “It has been my pleasure to have your company in these weeks, Val. It’s been a long time since I had company for so long.    Aside from the living nightmares of the basement, that is,” he tells you, already dreading the rapidly approaching goodbye.

   “I don’t like to leave knowing that you’ll be all alone here,” you reply, surprising him.

   He wants to say that you may visit him at any time, but he holds his tongue, offering only a grateful smile in return.    Because aside from the fact that you don’t know where the castle is, he also desperately wants you to be free of him. Even if his lonely heart screams entirely different things through the dungeons and catacombs of his being, to which he has condemned all thoughts of romance and passion.

   “We should get ready for your departure,” he says softly, sidestepping your concerns as gracefully as he can, before he rises and steps away from the table, gesturing for you to accompany him.

   You follow without protest, and a part of him wishes that you would rage against the lack of choices you have been afforded. But he is also relieved that you don’t.    There are no possessions to pack, you will leave his house as poor as you entered it, save for the clothes he has given you, so there’s no need to delay.    He brings you back to the lab where he already has a syringe filled and waiting.

   “Please, don’t be alarmed,” he asks when he sees your expression turn wary with the sight of the unknown clear substance behind the needle. “It’s a strong sedative. I’m afraid I cannot let you see the journey back, as this place needs to remain as hidden as it can be.”

   “Oh…” is all you say, but the sadness in your eyes grows deeper with the realization that you will never be able to return.

   You step closer while shrugging of your jacket, the garment returned to you already on your third day here, as he had learned by then that you would not run from the answers you sought.    There is no hesitation or questioning in your frame. You roll up your sleeve, trusting this stranger not to kill you, or cause you harm in other ways, and he wishes so dearly that you had never crossed his path that night, so that he could have been spared this ending.

   “It will only take you a few minutes to fall asleep once the injection is done. But you may start to feel unsteady within seconds, so I suggest you take a seat,” he cautions.

   Defiant on this matter, for reasons which evade his understanding, you remain on your feet, holding out your arm as you wait for the unknown substance to be administered into your blood.    He is not going to fight you, so he merely gives you the injection and then quickly puts the syringe away, preparing to catch you if you should grow dizzy.

   But the moment that he steps closer to you, so that he may reach you should he need to react quickly, you raise your hands to his shoulders, holding him steady as you steal a kiss from his lips.    It’s brief, but not rushed. Your lips are soft and the pressure moderate, but there is curiosity and desire within the touch. A wish, perhaps. Much like the one that burns his own chest and is responsible for how he responds to your affectionate gesture, kissing you in return as soon as your lips have left his.

   Then your legs wobble, and the moment ends. He catches you, pressing you against his upper body to prevent you from falling, as you already struggle to keep your eyes open.    He worries that he might have given you too strong a dose, but he needs you to be completely unaware of the journey back.    Only moments later, you are beginning to doze off, but you stubbornly keep your eyes open for as long as you can, as if trying to commit his features to memory.

   When you go limp in his arms, the image of your seemingly lifeless body on the ground in that forest, flashes before his waking eyes, and all at once, tears are gathering in them.    You should not have suffered such a fate. You should have been spared from ever knowing of these monstrous things, and he can only hope that your paths will never cross again.    He swoops your legs up and carries you outside, the strength of the beast making the burden easy to bear despite the distance.

   Once out on the courtyard, next to the prancing white horse, so noble and proud, he sets you down and steps away to let the transformation happen. He knows the feeling so well, and yet it never grows any less unsettling.    The dragon and him are one and the same, but the beast has a different mindset. A primal and largely thoughtless existence. It knows what the man knows, and if need be, it will think rationally, but that is not its default manner.

   It is an animal, still. Despite the many centuries of life that it has shared with the human. It feeds, sleeps and repeats the process as needed, nothing more. And as that mindset takes over, Oberyn fades into the background. Conscious and aware but drowned out by the sensory input of the much larger animal and its superior senses.

   However, even the beast is enchanted with you, recognizing your scent at once and having no adverse reaction to it.    Instead, he feels only protective over you. He doesn’t think unless he has to, but his heart is no less sensitive within the body of the beast.

   He gently picks you up in his front paws, cradling you to his chest for warmth, as his body will remain quite hot regardless of the temperature of the air, the fire within always stoked and ready.    Leaning back to rest heavier on his hindlegs, he leaps off the ground. His wings are long, wide and powerful, easily taking up the extra strain as they bear you both into the skies, heading south and away from the snow.

   There was a time when all the heavens belonged to him. When he was the largest, fastest, and strongest creature up there. But no more.    Now, when he flies, he must always keep a watchful eye on men, as they jump from city to city in their metal birds. Airplanes. What a terrifying way to move, locked in a box, thousands of feet above the ground, having to trust the skills of a complete stranger to operate it.    Oberyn will never set foot in such a thing, of that he is most certain.

   There is no such obstacle in your way for this journey, however. Concealed by the night, he lands softly in the still green grass on your backyard, before instantly shifting back to his human form, so that he may fit through the door.    Your scent around this entire place is so strong that he could sense it even from the air above, so there is no question, he’s found the correct address.

   Rounding the little cottage, he finds the front door and shifts you over into his left arm so that he may unlock it.    During dinner eight nights ago, you had asked him about your personal belongings, and he had confessed to taking your keys and the small mobile phone which he had found in your pockets, only the first of which he would be able to return to you.

   The fire in the ballroom, where you had sat to warm yourself on your first morning in the castle, he had set in order to burn that phone, not trusting even the outdated model to not be traceable somehow.    But you had explained that you only had the phone with you for emergencies, as there are many ways to get yourself hurt in the mountains. Beyond that, you do not like to be too reachable, apparently.

   You work in a store which specializes in holiday themes, such as Halloween, Christmas and Easter, which is perhaps why these ordinarily festive seasons appear to have lost their charm for you. You had spoken of them only briefly and with a great sense of emptiness.    Listening to you, he had often felt a great loneliness behind your words. But perhaps not the obvious kind. Something deeper, to do with unfulfilled dreams, maybe.

   It was only when you had spoken of working outdoors, chopping your own wood or tending to your horse or your vegetable garden, that he had seen peacefulness in your frame.    You’re not a typical modern person, drawn to various forms of digital media, preferring instead to work with your hands and be rewarded for your efforts with things that are useful to you. Things you can not only see, but touch and experience in real time.

   He steps inside, finding a quite large and inviting living room directly to his right, decorated to feel warm and somehow intrinsically you. As well as he knows you, at least.    To his left is a small kitchen and straight ahead is a short hallway with two doors on the left. The closest leading to the bath, easily discernable by the smell of scented disinfectants, and the other to your bedroom.

   He can sense a lavender fragrance from your sheets. Not the concentrated fabric softener that most people use, which is filled with chemicals, but something natural and clean. Probably your own concoction, created with lavender grown in your own garden.    It’s a pleasant fragrance to his sensitive nose, as is most of the scents he feels from this house. Your home.

   He brings you to the bedroom and sets you down on top of the covers, noting that your bed is large enough to comfortably accommodate two adults, but then quickly wrenches such thoughts from his mind.    You look peaceful in your unconsciousness. Unlike when he had flown you to the castle. You’d been restless then, twitching and trembling as your body had attempted to adjust to whatever foreign process had been taking place within you.

   Had he known how wonderous you would turn out to be, how tolerant and kind and patient you are, he might not have been so frightened as he had waited by your bedside, dreading having to watch another mutated monster emerge from another innocent soul.    Even if he will never know how you survived, he will forever be grateful to have been given the chance to know you. And… he will greatly miss your company, for however long he may remember you.

   He puts a thick quilt over you and steps back to leave, but then decides that there can be no harm in stealing a kiss of your forehead before he walks out of your life entirely.    Your skin is exactly as warm as it should be, which feels quite cool against his own, since he runs at a much higher base temperature than humans. Your heartrate is steady and strong, your breathing even and deep, so he feels certain you will recover from the sedation without any problems.

   As he walks back through the house, he steps into the living room and over to the fireplace. The autumn chill has found its way into the half-timbered building, and he does not want your first day back to start with you feeling cold.    The heat within the dragon’s chest is still there in his human form, so a little huff of superheated air is all it takes to ignite the dry wood. He waits for another minute, just to be sure it will not go out, and then he slips back out into the night, never to return.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   You come around slowly, feeling drowsy and heavy at first, in a more than natural way. Your brain is sluggish, leaving every movement feeling like a mountain climb, but your bladder has woken up and is demanding the rest of you do as well, so you climb.    First into sitting, which results in your tumbling forwards out of bed, only just managing not to hit your head against the floor. Then your nerves start to feel more responsive, perhaps with the slight rush of adrenaline at the fear of getting hurt, and you’re able to rise to your feet.

   Every step gives you back a little more control, and by the time you’ve reached the bathroom, you don’t need to hold onto the walls anymore.    Once done in there, you walk over to the kitchen to run the taps for a few minutes, which ends up being the longest minutes of your life because you’re suddenly absolutely fucking parched.

   You down two full glasses and you’re working on filling a third when there’s a knock on the door.    Startled, you nearly drop the glass in the sink, because who’s gonna show up here when it’s barely even light out? Who even knows that you’re back already?    Irrationally hoping that it might be Oberyn, you walk to the door and open it.

   “Good morning, miss,” officer Park of the local police greets you, and you’re momentarily stunned.

   Not that it isn’t your much too desired former captor, but that the police would be the first to come knocking. You haven’t had anything to do with them in your life at all, you’ve always been very well behaved. So, naturally, your mind jumps to the thought of crime, wondering if you could’ve committed any without realizing it.

   “How nice to see you alive and well. We’ve been looking for you for two weeks and then someone reported seeing smoke rising from your chimney this morning,” the officer helpfully explains, easing your worries, but creating new ones at the same time.

   Since you haven’t lit any fire, your gaze is automatically drawn to your right and the brick fireplace at the middle of the far wall, where there is indeed a fading flame.    He must’ve lit it before he left, to make sure that the house wouldn’t be too cold when you woke up, and the thought tugs at something both painful and wonderful within your gut. No one has ever shown you that kind of consideration.

   But you’d expected to have at least a few hours to come up with a plausible story to tell anyone who asks where you’ve been, not being slapped in the face with it the first damned thing after you’ve woken up.    Of course, you have played with an idea or two, loosely, while still at the castle, but not enough to have a solid plan ready and waiting.

   “Yeah, um… I’m sorry that you’ve wasted your resources on me. I fell off my horse in the dark and ended up getting completely lost during the storm. By the time daylight broke on the next day, I couldn’t recognize anything.    Has anyone found my horse, Casper?” you ask, hoping to buy a few seconds to think but also genuinely worried about what happened to him.

   “He came right back here, safe and sound. We found him grazing in the backyard when we came to check on you after you hadn’t showed up for work the next day and no one could reach you. He’s over at the Mackey farm.”

   “Oh, great, thank you so much.”

   “Sure. But I’m a bit confused,” the officer starts, clearly wanting to bring the topic back to you, so you try to stay cool and think fast. “If you’ve been lost in the woods for two weeks, I’d expect to find you in a lesser state.    Honestly, miss… you look fresh enough to have just came from a beauty salon.”

   Shit. You haven’t looked in a mirror, so you have no idea how you might look, but you do know that you definitely don’t look starved or dirty enough to have been living rough for that long.

   “Actually, I was helped by a stranger, if you can believe it,” you say, deciding to weave as much truth as you dare into this lie. “After several days of wandering in the wrong direction, he found me and let me stay with him for a bit. And once I was fully recovered, he brought me back here. It was a long trek, which is why I didn’t get back until the middle of the night.”

   “This guy have a name?” Park challenges, years of experience making him skeptical of such an unbelievable story.

   “No. I mean, I assume he does, but we didn’t exchange names. I just called him the good Samaritan.”

   “He saved your life, and you didn’t ask for his name?” the officer asks, raising his brows in disbelief, but you’re not even really lying about this.

   After all, he’d said that his name is Oberyn, and you don’t think that he made that up, but you also remember him telling you that he doesn’t recall his own mother’s name, so there’s every chance that it’s just a name he’s heard at some point over the years and liked the sound of it enough to take it for himself.    And if he’s as old as you were made to believe, then his identity is highly unlikely to exist in any records anywhere in the world anyway.

   “He’s a recluse and a hermit who’s put himself as far away from people as he can get. Saving me was an inconvenience to him, but he still did it. He didn’t want to tell me his name because he doesn’t want anyone to come looking for him, so please, let him be.”

   You keep your tone a bit sharper for that part, to let the officer know that you have no intention of helping him pursue that lead, and he seems to get the message.

   “Alright, well… so long as you’re sure everything’s okay with you.”

   “Yes, sir. I am very grateful for your efforts, and again, I’m sorry that it was all for nothing, but I’m fine.”

   He nods politely, somewhat gruffly wishing you a good day, and then he leaves.    You close the door, exhaling deeply in relief that you managed not to panic. But then his words about you looking like you could’ve just walked out of a beauty salon pop up in your mind, and you head back to the bathroom.    There were no mirrors in the castle, at least none that you saw, so when you now see your own reflection in the one over your sink, you momentarily lose your breath.

   The wrinkles around your eyes and mouth have smoothed out. In fact, there isn’t a single visible flaw to your skin. And… has the color of your eyes shifted slightly?    Your hair is both shinier and much less damaged overall, and it seems to have changed color. Not drastically, but the tone is fuller, richer, and the shine has a distinct shade of orange, which is far from what it’s ever been close to before.    Even your teeth have been altered. Each one sitting perfectly aligned and each one apparently now flawless in shape and size.

   “The bite…” you whisper to yourself.

   The mutation which had turned those creatures in the basement into the worst things ever concocted for a horror story, seems to have turned you into the perfect version of yourself.    Just like Oberyn has looked to your eyes, ever since you first saw him.    Oh, god… Does that mean you’re becoming whatever he is? But no, that makes no sense, it was the dragon that bit you, not Oberyn.

   For a moment, the room disappears, as your brain is suddenly laying a puzzle you didn’t even know existed, and a series of images are displayed before your eyes.    The green coat, exactly the same color as the scales. The golden embroideries on the cuffs and lapels, in the exact same shape as a classically depicted serpentine dragon.    And when he’d talked about humans, he’d used the words “them” and “you” instead of “us”. He’d even said that he was tethered to the dragon…

   You droop to the floor as the unthinkable becomes an inescapable truth, gasping for air while you try to find rationalizations, anything that could make it explainable in some other way, but it all fits too well to be coincidence.    You probably put these pieces together even from the start, but chose not to see them because you liked him. Because he was sweet and kind.

   But he’s a monster. A viper lurking in the dark.    It was all a lie.

Part 4

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

#oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #modern!au #halloween writing #spooky season fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories

[fumifooms]

Hi I adored your chilchuck/marcille fanfic, "grind me down sweetly", that was so lovely!! i ate it up with like no hesitation! i was wondering if you were considering writing more of them? thank you so much for all your work and thank you for sharing it with us!

First of all thank you so so much!! Every nice word and kudos mean the world to me, and for rarepairs they're all the more cherished 💖 And yes anon, I absolutely do plan on making more for them! As much as I can manage, a library's worth if possible. They're my absolute Dungeon Meshi OTP and Dunmeshi’s been my obsession for like 10 months now, I'm a huge shipper & I love making fancontent and yeahh it's not stopping anytime soon. Though I am a slow writer... And I really should get around to finishing my older non-dunmeshi wips too 😫

I’ve talked about marchil fanfic prompts/wips a couple times on here, and very recently even about a sequel to Grind Me Down Sweetly actually! The fic’s a lot about having a familiar routine with someone and sort of growing used to that, to knowing someone like that and with sharing his days and his living space with someone again, about growing open to the idea that maybe just maybe he and Marcille could have something in the first place. And it’s kept pretty platonic due to that and whatnot, but I recently thought that, since the arc of him becoming more aware and open to the relationship got done in GMDS, doing a sequel where we actually see the relationship grow more romantic would be cute!! Warming up to the romantic nature of their relationship like settling down into a cozy couch. And this time rather than coffee it’ll be centered around what all the best cafes have… Cats!

Gonna summarize the concepts of some of my marchil fic wips under the cut, if you’d rather go in blind when they… Eventually get written, then you can just stop here and safely be assured that I am 100% planning on writing more for them! Oh, btw I also take prompts and requests, though I can’t promise anything.

Alright so GMDS sequel: I think in canon both Marcille and Chilchuck have a special dynamic with Izutsumi, where they care after her, not unlike Senshi but with more feelings attached. With her traveling around, I feel like every once in a while they’d talk about her, dealing with the worry and the uncertainty. Marcille is like "My fragile baby bird out into the world… She needs to at least live to be 100 years old 😭" while Chil knows how it’s like and just trusts her to be alright, like with Puckpatti. And so!! Every time she sees a stray cat while strolling out her heart pangs… There are many strays in Chilchuck’s neighborhood, and with her pushing for it they start leaving some food out for them. At one point she sees one standing out in the rain all pitifully in front of Chil’s shop and she invites it in (to Chilchuck’s despair), and from then on it’s still a stray but it has a home to go back to… Until Marcille officially adopts it. And it can showcase Marcille and Chil’s growing relationship alongside that metaphorically, where she sorta moves in and they grow more boldly affectionate, and it’s like… Domesticating love… 😌 Man didn’t want a cat, a cat daughter nor a new lover, but they took a liking to him and were stubborn about getting close to him and now there they all are. I like to say that post-canon despite Chil living alone in his shop he gets a second family of clingy asses, and this is exactly what I mean. Vibe wise I’d like it to have that cozy energy of spending a slow afternoon at a nice quiet cafe on a rainy day, but we’ll see how I manage it! It’s not the highest on my writing priorities currently though.

Other marchil fic ideas I’ve talked about are… Following them on that time pre-canon where they went to shop for a pouch together would be cute. I have a long post talking about them being sick and caring for each other would be like and that’d make a fun whump fic too. He gets sick and she dotes on him, she indulges herself and kisses him anyways, and then of course he passes it on to her right as he gets better so then it’s her turn getting taken care of hehe.

This one’s more convoluted, so either Marcille invites him to a fancy social event at the castle as her plus-one (aka emotional support) maybe already dating maybe on the verge of confessing, OR they’re already dating and then Marcille’s mom visits them and it’s very sweet and maybe marriage talks happens~, but in both cases Chilchuck is going through SO much stress. Just Chilchuck’s heart being on the absolute edge of giving out, going through the five stages of grief over the banquet not having his favorite kind of alcohol and Marcille not letting him be an ornamental plant in the corner of the room and doing the bare minimum. Or having to engage with her mom and seeming worthy of being her lover as his shit is only barely pulled together after they hurry to ready his house to host her as a guest. And I have a bunch of wips where I tackle them properly doing a confession or a proposal… I was planning on making a comic about it even. Here’s a lil taste of them talking about getting into a relationship together~

And you know what, here are some new exclusive ones I hadn’t shared yet that I’d really like to get around to making

In the meantime if you want I have a ton of analysis and headcanon posts about marchil on this blog, and fanarts here, and @fumiku is my fanfic blog with updates + for fanfic related asks (which rarely gets used rip).

I have non-marchil dunmeshi fanfics I want to prioritize too, but idk idk I’ll see what I end up getting around to… I like having a new vision to offer with each fic, so I tend to prioritize fics that take a new angle for the same ship or tackle different characters and themes, so I can see myself pushing myself to do other stuff before falling back into my marchil comfort zone.

#ask #fumi rambles #fic updates #fic wip #marchil #I keep my fic ideas grouped in the same text file usually but the file for dungeon meshi ones was getting so loooooong and huge #I recently had to split all the marchil ones into its own file bc it was half of the whole thing and was getting out of hand lmaooo

[cloudlessly-light]

Hello lovely! A Prompt for you if you like it!

A fic with different one shots of other team members walking in on Em and Hotch doin the deed

love your work!

Hey Anon! First off, thank you so much! This will be the first out of 6 one shots, I hope you like them!

Title: Let it be all night Summary: Aaron and Emily gets caught… and not only once. Word Count: 2,4k Rating: Explicit Warnings for this chapter: Smut, oral, multiple orgasms, dom Aaron (kind of), rough, dirty talk

Penelope

It had been days, almost a week spent in separate beds until they landed back in DC after a case. Six days of Emily not getting to be with Aaron in the way her body needed. It had been longing looks and subtle touches as they worked together but never actually giving in to the urge of each other.

She finally breaks in the elevator in the hotel and she kisses him roughly, presses her body against his and he reacts immediately. She feels his large hand on her hips, pulling her against him and when she pulls back they’re panting.

“I can’t wait until we get home.” He tells her lowly and she feels the heat between her thighs intensify as he licks over his bottom lip with dark eyes.

“Me neither.” She kisses him again just as the elevator dings and the doors open to reveal the rest of the team waiting for them.

“You guys ready to get out of here?” Derek asks as they come to stand beside him.

“So ready.”

The plane ride feels longer than ever and she can’t seem to get comfortable as she shuffles around in her seat. Aaron’s hand lands on her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin slightly and she stills.

“Stop squirming.” He breathes against her ear and she immediately grinds her teeth together as her eyes dart across the plane. The team were all either asleep or lost in conversations, no one was paying them any attention.

“I can’t.” She whispers, her own hand moving to cover his.

“Dirty girl.” He hums with a knowing smirk. “Needy aren’t you?”

“Aaron.” Her fingers dig into his hand and he twists out of her grip to hold her hand in his.

“Just a few more hours.” He promises her quietly, kisses her temple and then leans back into his own seat to continue with the paperwork he was working on before she got his attention. He forces the smirk away as Emily continues to shift around, knows that she has been going stir crazy for the last few days.

When they land it’s late and everybody goes home, deciding that the reports could wait until the morning, everybody except Aaron who had to go back to Quantico, with Emily pouting in the car beside him.

“It’ll be quick.” He promises and she fights the urge to roll her eyes because she knows that it’s a lie. But she still goes with him, removes her jacket and throws it on the couch in his office and decides to work on her own report while he finishes the work he needed.

It’s less than twenty minutes before she decides that she can’t wait. Aaron had gone to use the bathroom and was just coming back when she slams the door to his office behind him and attacks his lips with her own.

“You really couldn’t just have waited until we got home?” Aaron says through heated kisses as Emily presses him up against the wall of his office.

“No, that would he hours from now, I can’t wait that long.” She bites his bottom lip and tugs hard enough for him to hiss as she rips his tie away from him. “I’ve waited all fucking day.” Her lips move from his and along his jaw, his stubble rough against her searching lips. She gets to his neck, feels his pulse race as she unbuttons his shirt in search of more skin to kiss and touch.

“Fuck Em.” He breathes as she kisses down his chest, her teeth digging into muscle and then soothing the sting with her tongue until she’s on her knees in front of him. He pushes some hair back from her face as she gets his belt undone and doesn’t waste any time to get his pants unzipped and pulled down to his ancles.

She smiles up at him as she pulls his boxers down as well. He’s already hard and when she gently strokes along his length he breathed out a sound, low and graveled and it makes her clench her thighs together. She keeps her eyes on his as she licks the tip slowly, the heat of her mouth making his knees buckle.

“Why are you teasing?” He asks as his fingers bury themselves in her hair and her mouth opens wider, already knowing what’s coming. Aaron thrusts against her face, makes her take half of him in her mouth before pulling back only to roll his hips against her again. He pushes his hips against her face until he feels her swallow desperately around him, eyes glassy as she gags on him. “You desperate enough to try and jump me in the office, but then you try to tease? That’s not what good girls do.” He mumbles as he slowly fucks her face.

Emily can only moan in response, the vibrations of it makes him groan as he continues to watch her. He sees her hand move inside her own pants, can see her fingers move against her clit and then she moans again.

“Look at you,” He stops thrusting and Emily is quick to start bopping her head instead. “on your knees on the dirty floor for me.” He can see her fingers moving faster against her, hears her muffled whimpers and moans and he’s tempted to let her come on her own fingers. But he had craved her just as much as she had craved him.

Emily lets out a sound of surprise when he tugs her hand away from her soaked folds and pulls her up to stand. She watches as he sucks her own arousal from her fingers, his tongue swiping over the pads of her fingers. She kisses him the moment he lets go of her wrist, Aaron’s hands pulling on her pants as he steps out of his own.

“Undress.” He grunts out against her lips and she quickly pulls her shirt off her body kicks away her pants and underwear. He unhooks her bra before she lays back on his desk, body flushed as she spreads her legs for him to stand in between.

“Baby…” She leans back on her elbows and watches with hooded eyes as he kneels in front of her. The first swipe of his tongue is agonizingly slow as he licks the length of her. His groan is rough and muffled against her as he dips his tongue inside of her. When he moves up to lap at her clit her legs tighten around his head and he looks up at her with eyes blown black by want. He sucks her clit between his lips roughly, making her whimper and then he stands back up.

Aaron towers over her, his hands landing on either side of her as his cock slides against her.

“You want me to fuck you?” He muses and when she nods desperately he leans down to kiss her lips. It’s soft, somewhat out of place and then he’s pulling back to watch her face as he pushes inside of her with one hard thrust.

“Fuck!” Her head falls back as he stretches her effortlessly and she feels his labored breath against her neck as he licks over her sweaty skin. He starts to fuck into her, hard enough for the large desk to rattle and she swear her vision blurs.

“Breath, baby, breathe.” He reminds her and he sees her take a couple of breaths. He stands up fully, drags her with him until she’s sitting up and her arms wrap around his neck and legs wrap around his hips.

“You feel so good.” She gets out through harsh pants, her hips moving the best she could against him as he finds a pace. It’s hard and rough and exactly what she needed and when his thumb rubs over her clit her entire body tenses. It’s only minutes before her thighs tighten around his hips and her breathy moans turn needy.

“Already?” He chuckles and in any other scenario she would have tore him a new one but it only makes her hotter, makes her body react even more to him.

She cries out, muffles the sound against his chest as her body shakes on the desk, his thumb on her clit and still moving hips only prolonging her orgasm until she falls back, chest heaving and body limp.

He doesn’t give her much time, only steps back to turn her around and slides back inside of her from behind.

“I love when you come for me.” He tells her as his hands falls to her hips and pulls her back against him. He knows he’s hitting at her spot from the way Emily is scrambling for something to hold on to, her fingers finally wrapping around the edge of the desk.

“Baby, Aaron… fuck…” She bites down on her arm to keep from screaming out, another orgasm somehow already building inside of her.

“Again?” He growls as she starts to tighten around him again. It spurs him on, makes him move a little harder and she moans louder. “Do it Em, fuck you’re so pretty when you come.” He encourages her and he sees the muscles of her back tighten as she grips the desk harder.

She feels the pressure snap and she comes crashing into another orgasm not long after, her body trembles hard enough for him to pin her to the desk as the pleasure rolls over her in waves. She’s whimpering, low and breathy and when she finally relaxes she feels his warm finger trail along her spine until his fingers are back in her hair and tugs her up.

“Maybe I should make you wait for my cock more often huh?” He mumbles against her ear as her back arches. “If you’re going to come so easily for me?” He rolls his hips against hers, pushes as deep inside of her as he can and she hisses.

Aaron lets go of her hair and wraps one hand around her body, his hand wrapping around her throat but not putting any pressure on her airway, just lets her feel the warmth of his palm against her skin as his other hand comes around to rub her clit. She whines and jerks and he smirks against her ear.

“P-please.” Her fingers dig into his arm as he continues to fuck lazily into her, making her feel every part of him as he pulls back only to push deep into her again. She can feel her body straining against his, every circle of his fingers against her clit making her moan. She feels him everywhere, groaning into her ear, arms around her, his front pressed against her back, his cock inside of her, he’s everywhere and she feels lightheaded.

“What do you want baby?” He licks a stripe along the side of her neck and she ruts back against him.

“I- I wanna come again.” She mumbles, voice barely above a whisper as his fingers rub her clit a little faster. “And I want you to come inside of me, want to drip with it.”

That set something off in him, something primal and he growls into her neck as his hips jerk against hers. He moves harder, fucks into her roughly and Emily claws at his arm, the sting of her nails will be proof that will last for days on his skin.

Emily knows that she’s being too loud, even this late, her moans and whimpers echoing around his office. Aaron’s own grunts and whispered words only gets her closer, as she tries to move back against him the best she can. He nips at her neck, probably leaving marks that she’ll curse him out for in the morning, but right then only made her roll her head to the side to give him easier access.

“You get so tight when you come.” He grunts as she starts to clench around him again. “Hold it, come with me.”

Emily nods desperately as she tries to stop her body from erupting right then and there. She feels his hips stutter against hers, his hold on her tightens as his own orgasm nears.

“Let me feel it.” She whimpers and Aaron growls into her shoulder, his teeth digging into the back of it.

“Em,” He grunts as his own release builds fast. “come now.” He spurts inside of her just seconds after Emily tenses against him. She comes, breath caught in her throat as her legs give out and she falls back into the desk as Aaron moves to hold her against him by a firm grip on her hips. He can barely hear anything over the ringing in his ears, his only focus on his own high and Emily’s still twitching body.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t hear the sound of heels against the floor, or the knocking on his office door until it’s too late. He turns just as the door opens.

“Sir I’m glad I caught you, there’s…” Penelope stops dead in her tracks when she’s met by her boss and best friend, naked and sweaty. “Oh my god!”

Emily can only stare back at her friend when Aaron moves from her and for a fleeting moment she realizes that the blonde can probably see the way his cum is leaking out of her.

“Out!” Aaron orders as he scrambles to cover himself with his shirt and moves so he’s standing in front of Emily.

“I-I was just…” Penelope isn’t sure why she’s not able to move, her feet planted to the floor.

“Garcia out!” His voice is louder this time and she jumps.

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” She rambles until finally she seems to get control of her body again and she closes the door to his office much harder than she had intended.

“Shit…” Aaron mutters as he starts putting his clothes back on quickly.

“It’s okay honey.” Emily isn’t sure why she isn’t more freaked out, blames it on her body still buzzing from pleasure and mind deliciously numb from it. She wraps her arms around his neck until his forehead press against hers. “It’s okay, it’ll be fine.”

“She saw us naked Emily.” He breathes and when she laughs his brow furrows. “It’s not funny.”

Actually, it kind of was.

#hotchniss smut #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x emily

[skyfall8600]

Can I request a fluffy Eddie x fem. reader long fic where reader is in college and it’s graduation day for reader and Eddie comes to support her and Eddie makes the day even more special for reader by surprising her with a romantic night on the beach and they lay on a blanket on the sand cuddling in each other’s arms while looking up at the stars and Eddie starts to go into a romantic speech about how much he loves her and how he can’t see a future without her in it and he proposes and asks reader to marry him?

By Your Side

Pair: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warning: fluff

Main Masterlist

[1.9k words]

Note: Sorry for the delay G, here it is <3

For as long as you could remember, it had always been you and Eddie. It started out as friendly conversations and laughs when you were children, which progressed into a tight friendship in middle school until you ultimately confessed your feelings during your senior year. 

Whilst everyone made jokes out of Eddie when he had to repeat his last year of high school, you were his constant support. You knew that the education system wasn’t built for everyone, and it was failing him. It was failing the Eddie who you knew was smart and wise, creative and imaginative. You wanted to stay and help him work on it, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“No, I’m not holding you back.” He said. 

“I want to stay, I can help you more now that I don’t have the pressure of school.” 

“Sweetheart,” He said softly, bringing your hands into his own. “I know about the acceptance letters, and you need to take them.” 

“I can go to college any time I want, once you graduate we’ll go together-”

He laughed, “I’m not meant for college. But you are, and I’ll be damned if you don’t go because of me. If anything, I want you to go for me.”

Simultaneously, both your eyes filled with tears. You shook your head softly, “I don’t want to be away from you for that long, it’s over an hour away.”

He sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. “I know, and it’ll kill me too. But I need at least one of us to get out of here and make something of ourselves, it’s not forever…. We can talk every night, I’ll come up on weekends…. Sweetheart, I saw how my father held my mother down and I don’t want that for us, for you.” 

And sure enough, he kept his promises. It was hard at first, being separated and relying only on telephone calls and letters. Eddie kept every single bit of mail you sent him, decorating his bedroom walls with every piece of them…. Serving as his motivation to try his best to finish high school so he could run straight to you. 

During your three years of college, it didn’t take much longer for Eddie to pack up his van with his high school diploma inside and drive directly to you after graduation. He would rotate his time between staying nights in your dorm and going back home to keep Wayne company. 

He made sure that during exam periods and weeks of multiple assignments due at once, that he was there. Just being around him calmed you right down; and the snacks he brought would help as well. 

As you finished getting your degree, Eddie focussed on using his skills to his advantage. Steering away from his father’s life of crime and grand theft auto, Eddie redirecting his skilful wiring skills and love of music to get into the show industry. It started out small, fixing a few stage lights and setting up, but it payed well. 

“I’m never going to finish this essay.” You said, practically crying out of frustration. 

He hated when you got like this, so worked up and stressed that all hope seemed lost. Even though you came through every time, getting decent grades and yet to fail anything like he had, you were never good at handling feeling overwhelmed. 

“Come on Sweetheart.” He said, rubbing your back. “I think you need a break, huh?” 

You sniffled, rubbing your nose. “No- I have to-”

“Isn’t this the one not due for another two weeks? You’ve got time hun, come on. Let’s get some fresh air then you can get back to it.” He kissed your temple, slowly guiding you out of your seat. 

“Okay.” 

Towards the end of your final semester, you finally felt at ease. The light at the end of the tunnel was visible. You felt excited and hopeful. As you finished up the last of your assignments, you were grateful that Eddie understood that even though you loved having him around, your entire focus on finishing everything on time. 

Eddie, on the other hand, had a plan of his own which meant picking up more hours at work. He even took on a side job of teaching guitar to kids, just so the extra cash came in quickly. He was beyond proud of how far you had gotten; he was even secretly proud of himself that he had succeeded and remained by your side. 

A week before your graduation, it became harder for Eddie to hide his most prized possession - yes, even more prized than his guitar. He was careful in his hiding spot for it, making sure that there was no chance of you stumbling upon the velvet box. 

Your parents and Wayne drove up to attend the graduation ceremony, an equal amount of pride and tears shared amongst the group. But none more-so than from Eddie, who had to fight back tears when he saw you walk the stage in your cap and gown, a smile beaming off your face and directly to him. 

When the University Dean called out your name, Eddie cheered louder than anyone there. He didn’t care about the stares he got, or how your mother laughed at him to shut up. He wanted to see you thrive; he wanted to prove that he was nothing like his father, he didn’t hold you back. 

“Congratulations honey!” Your parents hugged you tightly, giving you a small bundle of flowers. You thanked them, turning to give Wayne a turn at congratulating the newly graduated college student. 

“So where are we going for dinner?” You asked, leaning into Eddie’s side. 

Your parents shared a glance at each other, smiling softly. “We’ll meet you there, Eddie insisted on driving you himself.” 

You looked at him, “Lead the way then.” 

You missed Eddie’s old van; it had so much history and memories. But you can still remember when Eddie brought his new, sleeker van a year ago. You had to admit, it looked far more stylish than the old beat up brown vehicle. 

You were so wrapped up in telling Eddie how nervous you felt walking up on the stage, that you failed to notice how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. The little velvet box was burning a hole in his jacket pocket; hell it was the nicest jacket he had ever owned, he wanted to make sure he looked his best for what was about to come. 

Your voice trailed off as you noticed him park the car on the side of the beach, “I don’t think this is the restaurant Eds.” 

He blushed slightly, “Just follow me, Love.” 

You didn’t push or resist it, getting out the car with his helping hand. “Always a gentleman.” You mumbled, causing for him to only blush more. 

You removed your heals so you could walk on the sand with ease, holding them in one hand as Eddie clutched your other tightly. 

“Is this a surprise gift?” You asked, giddily. 

His throat was dry, “Maybe…. Now do you wanna keep asking questions that may ruin the surprise, or do you just want to see what I have planned?” 

You laughed, which seemed to ease his nerves. “Okay Casanova, let’s see it then.” 

Your laughter died when you finally saw where he was leading you. A red picnic cloth was held down by fake light up candles, decorating with loose petals and small chocolates. There was a basket with a champagne bottle sticking out of one end of it, with food and plates concealed in the other. 

You were frozen, “Oh its beautiful, but what about the others? I thought we were supposed to be meeting everyone.” 

He shook his head, “They helped set this up while we got here, wanted it to be a nice surprise. We’ll see them tomorrow for a nice proper family lunch.” 

He guided you to sit down on the blanket with him, worried that you could feel how fast his heart was beating. He gave you the first bit of chocolate and champagne, a small appetiser to please you as he set up the rest of the meal. 

You gasped, “Is that your pasta and garlic slices?! Oh I missed this.” 

He laughed, “Yeah, haven’t made it in a while and I remembered how much you loved it in high school. It’s a lot better now that I can afford the good ingredients.” 

You hushed him, “It was always good.” You leaned into each other as you ate the meal, “Thank you.” 

You kissed his cheek, wrapping your arms around him. He hesitated slightly, separated your bodies from fully connecting. “I - I wanted this to be special.” 

“It was perfect, I never did thank you properly for supporting me. I know I didn’t want to leave you behind, but you made it feel like I never did. You made it possible for me to still have you and do this.” You said, continuing to look up at the stars in the night sky. 

He brushed away some of the hair from your face, and mentally decided that it was now or never. 

“You never ever have to thank me for that. I am beyond proud of you, I promise you, that no one will work harder than me to make sure you are happy or cherished. I can’t imagine my life without you; you have always been there since day one, loving me, supporting me, and putting up with me when God knows you deserve the world… you deserve so much more than I can give you. You deserve the very best, someone who will back you up without limits, let you grow without borders, and love you without end. Will you let me be the one?” He pulled you up to sit with him, no longer lying down. 

His hand left your face and retreated into his jacket pocket, his fingers shaking as he pulled out the velvet box. 

“I love you more than anything, and I am hoping you will do me the honour of marrying me?” He asked, his voice breaking. 

You couldn’t find the strength to use words or move your body at all. Instead, your mouth stayed open and your eyes watered. 

“I’m going to need an answer here Sweetheart.” 

That’s when reality finally caught up with you, and you blinked back into consciousness. “Yes!” You screamed, moving straight past the ring to kiss him, “Yes, a thousand yeses.” 

For a moment he forgot about the delicate expensive piece of jewellery he worked so hard for, that he took forever to finally decide on which one was worthy to be on your hand. And he just kissed you, relishing in the pure emotions that radiated from it. 

When he placed the ring on your finger, the rest of his life finally had meaning. You showed him the man he could become, and you supported him to be better than anyone thought he could be. And he’ll be damned if he didn’t spend the rest of his life ensuring you god exactly that; love and support from now until the end.

_____________________________________________________________

Eddie Munson Taglist:

@fentyreligion @littlelunarfox @coconutchumby @eempxth @superflannel @fluffycookies22 @yearwalker96 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @grungegrrrl @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @dixontardis @buckyslwts @bratckerman @dani-d0rk @musicmoviestv @tomshelbystits @reddisteddie @ungracefularchimedes @santaatemypuppy @cherryrevenger

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson

[saintgoths]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

CHAPTER FOUR - PRETTIEST DOVE.

WORDS - 4,628.

RATING - 18+. [protective will, alcoholic!serena, quickie, infidelity, love and hate relationship between will and serena and slight SA and grooming.]

SUMMARY - Serena almost reveals what she truly is to the institute.

"A lot can happen in the dark, Love when it makes you lose your bearings, Some information's not for sharing, Use different names at hotel check-ins, It's hard to stop it once it starts." - Billie Bossa Nova by Bille Eilish.

feedback would be appreciated! and i would like to say, this story is a will romance story, but i just want you to be aware that serena is a man-eater...

i also cross-post this fic on wattpad and ao3.

previous chapter - chapter four.

The moment Serena had watched Charlotte and Will enter the drawing room was when she had known it was the perfect time to leave. “My time here is finished,” Serena whispered and without letting Serena have a second to get to her feet, Will briefly pointed towards Serena, a complicated expression on his face that had Serena gently intrigued on what had happened. “Best for you to remain here.”

With her eyebrows furrowed, Serena remained sat, “I hope you know Charlotte, that this isn’t the London Hospital or a hotel, Tessa’s brother shouldn’t be here and Davidson definitely does not need to be here!” Will clarified and surprised, Serena’s once furrowed eyebrows jumped.

“Davidson definitely does not need to be here…?” Serena repeated as she closed the box. “I…” Serena began as she had then turned to look at Charlotte. “I didn’t even accept his offer.”

“What offer?” Will seethed. “Offer for what?” He continued to inquire. “Too much is going on,” Will mumbled and as the door to the drawing room opened once more, Jem revealed himself to enter causing the heart to Serena feel to drop.

“Nathaniel should remain, he already knows about the Downworld,” Jem said, and once more Serena stood back onto her feet, lightly anxious of the tense atmosphere that had slowly commenced.

“Where are you going?” Will asked. “I said it’s best for you to remain here.”

Taken aback by his bold attitude, though, he usually was bold. Serena protectively pressed the box against her chest. “I will be going to the Salvatore home to speak with them.”

Confused, Will pulled himself back. “What’s the entire deal about you?”

Eyes narrowed; Serena twisted her face at him. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business, since you’re living under Shadowhunter roof,” Will retorted and with a snort Serena stepped beside him.

“Is Davidson coming here because of you?” Jem asked.

“Yes,” Serena and Charlotte truthfully responded, and with brief visual exchanges with each other, Serena clasped her hands together. “It’ll be fair to tell them,” Serena said. “What I am.”

Unsure, Charlotte looked between Will and Jem who had seem to brush off the Nathaniel circumstance, both suspicious to what Serena had meant. “It’ll be best for the Clave to know as well,” Serena continued. “If something goes wrong, they should know why.”

“I’ll consider it,” Charlotte breathed. “Yet, the promise I had given to Lady Evaline,” Charlotte reminded and with a quick look, Serena pressed her lips into a thin line.

“She would know it’s for the best,” Serena expressed and as she had neared herself to the door, Jem briskly reached out for her.

With a calm exterior, Serena turned to glance at Jem, his touch had almost felt like a breeze, an intense commodity, yet soft. “At least someone should take you there,” Jem said and with an encouraging look, he had slightly smiled at the dark-haired girl who had then shortly shared a sight with Will who had softly clenched his fist into loose balls.

“I’ll be fine,” Serena answered and without a second thought, she had fully left the drawing room, closing the door behind her, leaving the trio in am uncomforted silence, Charlotte who had been unsure to share what Serena had been to the world, Jem intrigued by the new figure who had lived in the Institute with the rest of his kin, and Will, perplexed to proceed to follow after Serena, but alas, he stayed.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

The Salvatores were known to be a rich family, respected within Venus, thus their seat in the Court of Aphrodite, they handled most of the finances in Venus, hence their riches and how they were able to quickly buy a vast home in the Mortal Realm, the architecture hooked with influences from both the Mortal Realm and Venus, though only one who had been in Venus would be able to identify the baroque and complex details of Venus Architecture.

Before Serena reached for the door, the sealed opening had been pulled by one of the family members of the Salvatore home, Andrea Salvatore, the twin sister of Theo Salvatore and the youngest sibling of Davidson. Andrea was a really pretty girl, out of all her siblings, Andrea had the darkest shade of blonde that it was sometimes be deemed as brunette, her eyes were brightly green and skin slightly tanned, and she was always seen nibbling on something, like a fruit, and presently she had held an apple.

Serena had learned that it was odd in the Mortal Realm for a lady of the house to open the front door, it was usually a servant, and Serena had also remembered that it was impolite to come to someone’s home without a calling card. Though, within this moment, she didn’t care.

She was known to have a sparky but flaky personality, an individual someone would never recognise what she had stood on or stood for, an unpredictable soul.

“Serena,” Andrea smiled. “Come in, it’s lovely to see you,” she said as she pulled the door wider open.

“Thank you,” Serena said as she stepped in. “I’m looking for Davidson, is he here?” Serena questioned looking around the intricate styled home, aware from the corner of her eyes Davidson’s figure slipped in. “Speaking of the Devil,” Serena smiled.

“Bella Serena,” Davidson smiled. “Happy to see you,” he continued, pressing his lips against the back of her hand, aware of the curious glint that had shone in Andrea’s eyes. “As much as I appreciate your arrival, may I ask why you’re here?”

Nourished, Serena placed her hands against her stomach, a knowing look on her face that had caused Davidson to flash an emotion of guilt across his face. “Follow me,” Davidson said and with sending Andrea a short nod, Davidson guided the dark-haired girl to their drawing room.

“Bye!” They heard Andrea call out and with a short smile, Serena waved her goodbye to the youngest Salvatore before the Drawing Room door had closed behind her. Thus, when the door was fully sealed, Serena briskly punched Davidson’s shoulder.

“Fuck!” Davidson cried out. “Why did you do that?”

“Do not be dull, Salvatore,” Serena seethed. “How dare you?” She breathed out. “You’ve already thought yourself to be the participant to protect me in the Institute and began to plan to move in already!” Ruffled, Davidson had opened his mouth to speak, but with a threatening point from the Venrosa woman, he had immediately sealed his lips. “I forbid you!”

“I knew you’d take a long time to choose because you don’t want anyone to protect you, even it is for your own sake-ow!” Davidson yelled once he had felt another pang from the young woman.

Though as much as Serena angrily whacked Davidson, he couldn’t help but pull an impressed smile. “You’re terrible lustful when you’re mad.”

Annoyed, the girl had looked away from him. “No, you will not do this again,” she struggled and with one longing shared look with him, Serena sagged her shoulders ere she allowed herself to be taken in by the Salvatore boy, her lips melded with his, while her hands had angrily cupped his face. “I’m furious with you,” she moaned.

“I know,” he whispered while he groped her curves, his hands quick to pull down his garments while Serena had quickly pushed down hers. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “I need to feel you,” he continued, “Oh God,” he moaned as he slipped inside of her, Serena’s warmth weakening his knees, but he held himself strong, his hands against the walls while Serena’s hands pressed against the drawing room architecture.

His lips moving to the softness of her neck, thrusting his hips upwards as he continued to sink into the erotic pleasure of Serena’s cunt, with her arms desperately tight around his torso, Serena whimpered at the rough but sweet motion of Davidson’s hips, both of their bodies rolling in candied dirt while the Venrosa girl eagerly aided herself to bounce on his cock, her walls pulsed around him. “Davidson—” Serena moaned. “Someone can walk in on us.”

“The idea of someone seeing how good you look being fucked by me excites me even more love,” he groaned, his mind racing into a plethora of lust which had commenced his cock to harshly lick against her sensitive sex, his racy behaviour had pushed the long-haired girl into a heated orgasm, her loud moan immediately muffled once she had brought her mouth against his skin, her area had tigehted around his length once his cock fiercely leaked and seeped inside of her.

Thus, longing looks shared with one another quickly cut through once the recognisable voice of Cersei had rung through the lobby of the home. Surprised, the both of them readied themselves decent---when Serena was proper, she had opened the door with a bright look on her face. “Cersei, what brings you here?” Serena asked, her simple inquire bringing a short awkward essence in the drawing room.

“I can ask you the same thing,” Cersei chuckled before nearing herself to Davidson. “Hello my love,” she gently cooed, her short sentence alerting Serena to violently cough, stunned, Cersei whipped her head towards Serena. “What’s wrong?” Cersei asked.

“My love?” Serena repeated.

“Oh right,” Cersei smiled. “Remember when I said I was supposed to tell you something that day of the Court?” Cersei shared. “I was supposed to tell you that Davidson is my betrothed!”

Shattered, Serena kept a confident smile on her face before walking towards Cersei. “Congratulations,” Serena smiled, gently burying her face in the crook of Cersei’s neck while quickly throwing a glance towards Davidson who had awkwardly shuffled with his feet, he had avoided eye-contact with Serena who had the let go of the Sapphire girl.

“Thank you,” Cersei gleamed. “Though, you didn’t answer my question, what brought you to the Salvatore home?”

“I was here in regards of the meeting we had in the Court of Aphrodite,” Serena responded as she anxiously played with her garments. “I’ll be leaving now.”

Against Serena leaving, Cersei reached for Serena who had already made her way to the door. “Stay for tea,” Cersei pleaded.

“It’s fine,” Serena gently winked. “I need to go somewhere,” she breathed and without a second look back, the dark-haired girl exited the manor.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Once again, Serena had found herself in Myrtle and Doves and she couldn’t remember what number drink she had continuously downed, but what she had known was that she had felt immense guilt. Serena wasn’t jealous that Davidson had been betrothed to Cersei as he had been nothing but a boy toy to her, though, what had her drown in regret was that he was Cersei’s betrothed, her best friend.

Cersei had not known that Serena had shared previous sexual adventures with her fiancé, though Cersei had known that Serena had lost her virginity early. In Venus, women being sexually open was not looked down upon, compared to the Mortal Realm, specifically London, people in Venus weren’t snobbish and uptight, on the other hand, Serena had been angry.

Angry at Davidson, Davidson who had known of his betrothal to Cersei and had still fucked her. With a deep sigh, Serena had been tempted to take another swig of her drink until she had felt a recognisable energy near itself towards her, surprised, Serena turned to look at them, as this was normally a Venusian Area, a location only those from Venus would know of.

“We’ve never gotten a Mortal Realm Shadowhunter before,” the bartender said and with a sharp glare, Serena threw a look at the bartender before turning herself to Will Herondale, who had sauntered into the pub with a look on his face, one Serena had wanted to wipe off.

“He knows nothing and isn’t supposed to be here,” Serena slurred. “Why are you here, Will?”

“You’re easy to follow,” he shrugged and with a short look, Serena looked at her glass.

“Did you follow me to the Salvatore House?” She asked and with the corner of her eyes, she could see him shake his head.

“No,” he responded. “I sensed you around this area, so, I followed.”

With a gentle sigh, Serena slowly sat up on her seat. “Never do that again,” she forbade and as she lifted her cup to take a sip of her alcohol, she could hear the breathy smirk emit from him.

“It seems like I would have to carry you to your room again,” he said and with a quick glare, Serena bounced her shoulders.

“I can handle myself,” she answered.

Dismissive, Will neared himself closer to her, earning a confused look from the girl. “Are you staying here?” She asked and adjusting himself on the chair, Will hastily examined the area, the comedic look still resumed on his face.

“I want to try this new area,” he replied and with a roll of her eyes, Serena sucked in her teeth.

“This pub isn’t new.”

“Well for me it is,” he shrugged.

“The pub is never used by people from the Mortal Realm,” Serena exchanged and with a surprised look on his face, Will perked his left eyebrow.

Aware that she had slightly leaked information about herself, Serena had gently cursed under her breath. “So, you’re not from the Mortal Realm?” Will inquired and aware of the discomforted look she had on her face, Will had then left out a breathy laugh before he ordered himself a drink.

Unmoved by what he had ordered for himself, Serena narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s a weak drink.”

“Weak?” Will repeated and with a bounce of her shoulders, Serena continued to drink her toxin.

“Did Charlotte order you to follow me?” Serene asked.

“Of course not,” Will said. “Since she’s hiding your secret, there would’ve been no chance of her asking me to follow you.”

Humoured, Serena hummed. “Why do you want to know so much about me?”

“Aside from the Tessa circumstance, your situation intrigues me as well,” Will smiled. “I have an idea that what’s going on with you is entirely bigger from what I currently know.”

“I’m glad my current position is interesting for you,” she said with sarcasm.

Soft, Will sagged his shoulders. “There’s many things interesting about you,” he said as he began drinking his pint. He had then turned to look at her, as balmy his orbs had been, there had been a slight sharp aspect that had been carried in them. “I never would’ve thought I’d meet someone as broken as me. At this point I believe you’re even more damaged.”

Sharp, Serena snapped her head towards him, offended, she had furrowed her eyebrows, “I’m not broken,” she seethed and with a light laugh, Will curved his eyes at her.

“Oh, right,” he scoffed. “The grotesque paintings you have in your bedrooms definitely do not summarise what’s going on in your head,” he mumbled before taking another sip, and as kickback, Serena pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze away from him as she had tightened her grip around the edge of the round table.

Her reticent response earning a sympathy point from Will who had remorsefully sighed at his forward comment. “What happened?” He asked, his cup down and arms currently folded.

Unsure to share her secrets, Serena had gently thought that it wouldn’t hurt to tell Will a small section of her circumstance. “My family recently died in a fire, because of me, they’re dead.”

“You set the house on fire?” Will asked and with a short eyeroll, you fiddled with your fingers.

“There were people hunting me, and to find me, they thought I’d be with my family, so they burned it,” she explained, and with a light huff, she sat up.

Drowned in her own guilt, the girl took another sip of her drink. “If they were hunting you, to capture you, why would they try to burn you?”

“Because they knew I would’ve survived the fire if I was there, Will,” she breathed and silent, the boy quickly tucked his bottom lip behind his teeth in thought.

“Are you an immortal?” He curiously asked and with a gentle smirk, Serena drank again.

Her eyes smoked with her intoxication, she hastily glanced at her unfinished drink, yet, tempted to ask for more. “I know you’re not stopping me from drinking to get intel from me.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” he smiled and with a scoff, Serena lifted herself from her current seat and as kickback, Will set down his drink. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the institute,” she replied and a second after her answer, Will hurried to his feet.

Humoured, Serena slowly glanced at him, she had paid the bartender before she directed her path to the exit. “Will you be able to handle yourself?” He questioned and with a hand on her hip, Serena reached for the sealed doors.

“I will be able to handle myself,” she reassured and as she slipped through the now open doors, she turned to look at him once more, her eyes narrowed but laced with a threatening essence, the woman carried herself to falsely smile at the Herondale boy before she spoke. “This will be the last time you enter this pub,” she seethed and with a mocking glare, Will looked down at her, a voice in his head unsure of her seriousness---but as she took one more step towards him, he couldn’t help himself but land his sight onto her lips as she did to his. “The next time I see you in here, I’d beat you into a bloody pulp,” she whispered and with a short smile, she turned her back to him and left the property.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

Serena had returned to the Institute half an hour after Will, it had appeared the boy had used a carriage while Serena was on foot, she couldn’t blame the boy for not inviting her inside the vehicle, since, she did threaten to beat him if he appeared in Myrtles and Doves again, though her thoughts of Will had been discarded once she had learned that both Jem and Tessa had been in danger.

Disappointed in herself----that she had been tipsy when she had met with Charlotte, Tessa and Sophie; without uttering a word to anyone, Serena had made her way to Tessa and directed her to come close to her. “Come to me,” Serena whispered and confused, Tessa furrowed her eyebrows.

“Serena, what are you doing?” Charlotte wearily questioned, her eyes cautiously following the woman’s behaviour. Serena who had not replied to Charlotte’s inquire had gently placed her hands against Tessa’s figure and while a purple chaotic energy emitted from the unique woman’s hands, a zap sound followed after, the strange energy had then commenced to heal Tessa. “Serena!” Charlotte desperately called out.

“It’s fine,” Serena muttered and curious, Sophie gently glanced at Charlotte before she returned her gaze to the curly-haired woman.

“Are you drunk, Ms. Venrosa?” Sophie asked and with a poking smile, Serena whipped her head towards her.

Serena had wondered if she now been known as the drunkard of the Institute, though she wouldn’t mind. “Not even,” Serena responded. “Perhaps a bit tipsy, but strong enough to still heal.”

“What are you?” Tessa asked and with a strong look Charlotte had stared at the two women, both her fists gently clenched, uncomfortable, but comprehensive that Serena’s identity would be revealed sooner than later.

“I’m many things,” Serena smiled. “Keep on speaking about what happened with the Automatons that attacked both you and Jem.”

“That’ll be pretty difficult,” Henry smiled as he directed himself towards the current situation. “Hard to overlook a being with powers like that, a being who isn’t a Warlock as well,” Henry commented and with a quick look at Henry, Serena sent him a short smile ere she dragged her paws away from Tessa’s body.

Surprised, Tessa left her gaze from Serena and then had hastily examined her body. “I feel so much better,” she sighed. “Thank you so much Serena.”

“No problem,” Serena smiled and as she had taken a step back, the young girl had clasped her hands behind her back, stubborn to not share the rest of her identity to the people of the Institute, she had allowed herself to listen to what they had to say about De Quincey.

If she was being truthful, she had felt guilty for not interacting with Tessa’s entire circumstance, yet, in her defence, Serena had a lot in her basket. “De Quincey must be found and stopped,” Henry said, “and in the meantime, Tessa, you must stay in the Institute. Not that we want to keep you a prisoner here, but it would be safer if you remained inside.”

“But for how long---?” Tessa began---and broke off, as Sophie’s expression changed. She began to look over at something over Tessa’s shoulder, her hazel eyes suddenly wide. Tessa and Serena had then followed her gaze.

It was Will, he had stood in the doorway of the drawing room. There was a streak of blood across his white shirt; it looked like paint. His face almost masklike, his gaze fixed on Serena had then moved towards Tessa. “He wants to talk to you,” Will said, followed after Thomas who had stood behind Serena.

“Lady Venrosa,” Thomas called and once leaving Will from her sight, Serena turned to look at him, her eyes and face welcoming. “Mr. Sapphire is here to meet you,” he shared and within the same second Thomas had shared Lyonel’s arrival, the girl had felt her heart sink down her chest.

Charlotte, as curious to why Lyonel had been here had brought herself to her feet. “I’ll come with you,” Charlotte said and with lowly flushed cheeks, Serena hesitatingly followed Charlotte outside of the Drawing Room.

♡⊹˚₊ ❦ ❀ ₊˚⊹♡

“Mr. Sapphire,” Charlotte smiled, “Your arrival here is a surprise for the both of us. What brings you here?”

“Is it a bad thing to visit an associate from Venus?” Lyonel asked and with a wary look, Charlotte quickly hushed Mr. Sapphire.

Confused, the man had looked between both Serena and Charlotte before she had spoken. “Barely anyone in the Institute knows what she is.”

“You have hidden Serena’s circumstance from the Mortal Clave?” Lyonel smiled, aware of the guilty look Charlotte had on her face.

“Charlotte will tell the Clave soon,” Serena said.

“And have you in more danger?” Charlotte asked ad comforted by the woman’s protectiveness Serena had gently smiled at Charlotte’s demeanour.

“I can protect myself,” Serena reassured while she gently fiddled with her fingers in slight anticipation.

Slightly encouraged, Charlotte placed her hand against Serena’s shoulder. “I know you can,” she whispered and inspirited, Serena’s smile had grown bigger, though with the awkward cough that had emitted from Lyonel’s, the two women had turned to look at him, suddenly aware of the book he had carried in his right arm.

“What’s the book for?” Serena curiously inquired and content that both of their attention had returned to him, Lyonel had moved the book from his arm to his hand.

With a proud look on his face, Lyonel had examined the detailed book before he moved his orbs to Serena. “This has to be privately given,” Lyonel responded. “I’d like to have a confidential conversation with Ms. Venrosa,” the man smiled and unsure to leave the young girl alone with him, Charlotte briskly looked at Serena, a look that had announced her dubious expression.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” Serena whispered and without another second, Charlotte had turned on the balls of her feet ere guiding the two Venusian citizens into the drawing room.

Hence the minute Mr. Sapphire and Serena had been left alone in the Drawing Room, Serena had made sure to sit opposite the man, her figure tense and awkward that had caused the man to furrow his arched eyebrows and give her a look of comedic humour. “I’m not going to do anything to you,” he hummed and with a quick roll of her eyes, Serena gently fidgeted with the fabric of her clothes.

“I know that,” Serena said with raised eyebrows. “It would be stupid to do so.”

With a laugh, Lyonel sat up on his given seat. “Always been so funny,” he breathed while taking out the book Serena had waited for, and with vigilant eyes, Serena had watched his every move, “Do you know what this is?”

With an unsure expression, Serena had softly shaken her head. “It’s the lost book of Aphrodite,” he replied and with a surprised look on her face, Serena had forwardly sat up on her seat. “Did you do the barrier?” He questioned and without second thought, Serena had jolted to her feet to place her hands against the Drawing Room walls to emit the sound-proof barrier.

“I didn’t know such things existed,” Serena spoke, “why do you out of all people have it?”

“I had a couple of my men look for it, it’s been a couple of years since I have given them the mission, but in the end, they had made me proud,” Lyonel shared and as she returned to her seat, the girl lifted her leg on top of her other.

“And you’re just going to give it to me?” Serena asked.

“Yes,” the man smiled.

With a shaky sigh, Serena gently shook her head, confused about this sudden important gift. “Why?” Serena questioned and by the fast look on his face, the girl felt her heart almost drop down to her stomach. “Oh,” she whispered ere she commenced to play with her digits. “I’ll never tell Cersei of our shared past,” thus, Serena already had too many secrets.

“I’m well aware you won’t,” Lyonel arrogantly responded. “Yet, you should know that’s not the reason why I’m giving the book to you,” he said. “I’m giving it you because I love you.”

Impaired, Serena hesitatingly licked her bottom lips, a sick feeling crawling through her body. “The Book of Aphrodite explores content of the Venusian Spirit and the Venusian Culture you won’t see anywhere else.”

“Was the Book of Aphrodite hidden?” Serena asked while reaching for the object.

“Yes,” Lyonel replied while he passed the book towards her, he watched how hesitant she was to hold it.

“I wonder who hid it,” Serena shared as she gently dragged her finger tips against the texture of the currently closed book.

With a slight annoyed look on his face, Lyonel placed his hands against his kneecaps before he had spoken once more. “You don’t need to worry about that since you have it now.”

“Thank you,” Serena kindly thanked and with a short welcome, Lyonel hastily winked at her.

“You’re always welcomed by me my prettiest dove,” Lyonel said and with an awkward shuffle, Serena had gracelessly looked down at the closed content that had been pressed against her lap. “Did you like the necklace I sent you?” He inquired and with a short look, Serena had kept her answer to herself and with a quick hum, Lyonel helped himself get to his feet. “I’d like to see you wear it someday,” he smiled and before he had left to the Drawing Room door, the man had helped himself press his lip against her forehead.

“I’ll be seeing you again my prettiest dove,” he whispered and with a short hungry but eager smile, Lyonel had pulled himself away from her, aware of the dubious and shaky look the girl had on her face, he had reached for her hair for one last stroke ere leaving her alone.

masterlist

song referenced

#will x reader #will herondale smut #will herondale fanfiction #will heronale #will herondale #tessa gray #jem carstairs #shadowhunters chronicles #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #the infernal devices #infernal devices

[ghostofaboy]

Rock Bottom - Limits

Summary: Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of.

Frankie meets with Tilly again to talk about what working for him would exactly involve.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morale/Original Male Characters Rating: Explicit. Serious over 18s only Word count: 2264 Chapter: 17/?

Warnings: implied/referenced drug use, drug addiction, self-esteem issues, angst, Frankie not coping, dubious consent, mentions of hard and soft limits (masturbation, oral sex, degradation, bondage, choking, anal sex, anal fisting, dildos/plugs, piss play, group sex)

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. This is a fic with gay and bi characters. Please make sure you read the tags/warnings. Header by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Part 16 / Part 1 / Masterpost

The next morning Tyler cooked breakfast, all the while complaining as usual about how ‘early’ Frankie had to get up. He chuckled as Tyler once again tried to pitch working with him and how Frankie would be able to set his own schedule. Each of them danced around the elephant in the room until Tyler set the pancakes in front of them.

“So,” Tyler began, pointing his fork at Frankie as the bleary-eyed former pilot started to eat. “I’ve slept on it, and here’s what I think. Like I said last night. I can’t shit on this or you doing any sex work without coming off as a massive asshole. I’m a fucking sex worker. I have a job booked in a couple of weeks with some guys. I have sex with other men all the time.”

“Good to know.” Frankie interjected sardonically, chewing his food and throwing Tyler a wink when the younger man frowned at Frankie’s words.

“My point is,” Tyler playfully scowled as he continued, “that the sex part isn’t the problem for me. Yeah, I’ll be jealous, but it’s not like you love the guy. It’s just sex.”

“The problem is who it is.” Frankie nodded.

“Yeah. Tilly’s rep is bad. I know he’s a loan shark, but I’m guessing that’s the tip of the iceberg Frank.”

“I’d never heard of him before this.” Frankie admitted. “But yeah, he’s obviously into some shady shit. That’s what I want to talk to him about today. I want a promise to keep me out of his other business.”

“When are you gonna talk to him?”

“After work. I just need to let him know when and where. In fact…” Frankie pulled out his phone. “I’ll text him now.”

[It’s Frankie Morales. Are we still on for today? Same time & place as yesterday?]

“All right.” Tyler finished his breakfast, collecting Frankie’s empty plate as he passed. “I’ll let you get to work. I’m gonna head home and go back to bed; it’s too fucking early, man. Let me know how it goes, ok?”

“I will.” After planting a kiss on Tyler’s lips, Frankie watched as the younger man left, heading for his car. Then Frankie finished getting ready before gathering his stuff for the day ahead.

Tilly didn’t text back until halfway through Frankie’s lunch hour. His phone buzzed in his pocket, making him jump as he fumbled to fish it out. Frowning, Frankie read the message.

[Yup! Made some notes re: our last conversation. But I was wondering if you’d like to come to my home? I can show you the cars, and it’ll be more comfortable than storage sheds.]

Tilly wanted him to go to his house? That was a big step. 

Frankie chewed thoughtfully on his food as he considered this offer. On the one hand, Tilly would have the advantage if he wanted to try anything. On the other, if he accepted the job, he’d be working there, so he may as well get the lay of the land. It made a certain kind of sense, but it wasn’t without danger. Frankie still didn’t know enough about Tilly to trust him fully. But then again, he’d been around the guy when drugged. If Tilly wanted to hurt him, he’d already had ample opportunity. 

[Ok. Send me your address and I’ll drive over after I’ve finished work.]

By the time he’d finished his lunch, Tilly had sent over his address, and Frankie had Googled it. It was in a nice part of town and looked pretty big from the aerial view. Tilly had obviously done well for himself, although Frankie still hadn’t figured out what he did as his legitimate business. Tidying up after his lunch Frankie tried to mentally prepare himself for the meeting later as he headed back to work.

After finishing for the day, Frankie went home to quickly shower before heading over to the address Tilly had sent him. As he pulled up, Frankie got his first look at Tilly’s home, and he had to admit it was gorgeous.

Set back from the road behind a pair of large iron gates, the house was barely visible from the street. As the gates opened for him, Frankie was able to drive up the short winding driveway toward the house. Pulling up outside, Frankie was met with a two-story house with sleek, clean lines with bright wood paneling. There were only a couple of windows visible from the front, both on the second floor. From this angle, the house looked like a large wooden block with a set of frosted glass double doors that swung open as Frankie killed his engine. 

Locking up his truck, Frankie was met at the door by Tilly beaming at him in a pair of blue sweatpants and a tight black vest showing off his muscular arms. 

“Great to see you again!” Tilly held the door open for Frankie to go inside. “Would you like something to drink, Frankie? I have tea and coffee, or would you like something cooler? I have beer or lemonade.”

Inside was a small entranceway that opened into a large sitting area with huge floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated the far wall. Off to the right were a set of stairs going up, while to the left was an impressive kitchen. Tilly darted into the kitchen, pulling out a couple of glasses and glancing back at Frankie.

“Beer? Lemonade?”

“Lemonade is fine.” Frankie shrugged, not wanting to drink alcohol at the first meeting in case he needed his wits about him.

“Take a seat, and I’ll bring it over.”

Frankie nodded and headed over to the lounge. A massive white leather L-shaped sofa occupied most of the space in the room, wrapping itself around the area. A large panel tv hung on the wall above a sleek metal fireplace that seemed to be the focal point, flanked on either side by massive windows. Frankie could see a cozy seating area and a pristine-looking lawn through the windows.

Sitting down on the plush sofa, Frankie started taking in the details. Although the space looked clean and minimalist, tiny personal touches were everywhere. A large bookcase was packed full of books, both paperback and hardcover, as well as small picture frames. While there was no art on the walls, there were pops of color everywhere to contrast the stark white. Sheer navy blue curtains framed the huge windows, the shag pile rug was a sandy shade of beige, and the sofa cushions were patterned with navy and gold. 

“Here.” Tilly returned, handing Frankie a cool glass of lemonade and pulling over a small glass coffee table. “So, shall we make small talk or cut the bullshit and dive straight in?”

Frankie couldn’t stop himself from smiling at Tilly’s joke. “Why don’t we just get to this?”

“All right.” Tilly nodded, setting down his glass. “I’ve given some thought to what you said about rules and came up with a list of things I would like to do with you so we can rule things out if needed. What about you? Do you have a list for me? Hard and soft limits?”

“Yes.” Frankie took a sip. “Firstly though, I wanna make sure I don’t have anything to do with your, um, your business. I’ll fix your cars, I’ll fuck you, but I’m not gonna work as a hired thug.”

Tilly’s eyebrows shot up, but he smiled all the same. “Blunt. But fair enough. I understand your concern. My business is, well, my business. Not yours and I give you my word you won’t be involved.”

“All right then.” Frankie took another mouthful before putting the lemonade on the table. “Do you want me to just list them or…?”

“Oh!” Tilly stood up and headed to the bookcase to grab a pad and pen. “You’re right. I should have this down. That way, we can revisit it when needed. Go ahead.”

“Ok, soft limits.” Frankie thought for a moment. “Well, to start with, I guess degradation is ok, but only if it’s just us. I don’t know if we’ll do group stuff, but if we do… please, no degradation. And I don’t mind being called a slut but don’t ever call me a whore.”

Tilly furiously scribbled down Frankie’s words. “Got it. Anything else?”

“I’ve never done any bondage, so I’m a little… um…” Frankie stumbled over his words. “I don’t know you that well, so…”

“I understand completely.” Tilly looked up from his notes. “We can talk about that once you’re more comfortable around me. What about light bondage? Not tying you up, but something like nipple clamps or a cock cage?”

“That’s fine.” Frankie nodded. “Light spanking is fine too, but no hard impact play.”

“Hands only.” Tilly looked up at Frankie, smiling. “I’m not really into spanking, to be honest. Is that all the soft limits?”

“I’m open to being blindfolded, some roleplay and sounding.” Frankie racked his brain but then shook his head. “That’s all l I can think of right now.” 

“Soft limits can be revisited as we try new things.” Tilly drew a line under the list he had written, then poised the pen to begin taking notes again. “Hard limits? Things you absolutely won’t do.” 

“No choking. I don’t want anything round my neck. Not your hands or a cord, nothing. So no breath play either.” Frankie wrung his hands. “Nothing to do with animals or animal roleplay. I’m not gonna eat out of a fucking dog bowl for you. No needles, no guns, no knives. Piss is fine, but no scat or blood. And it goes without saying, but no drugs.”

“Got it.” Tilly finished his notes and then underlined each one. Looking up at Frankie, Tilly looked almost sympathetic. “Frankie, I don't know what kind of guys you’ve been with in the past or who Gavin was renting you out to, but I don't want to hurt you. I will never do anything to physically hurt you; I don’t get off on that.”

“So, what do you want to do with me?” Frankie grabbed his lemonade again and took a big mouthful.

“Well, what I would consider basic stuff, really.” Tilly shrugged. “Anal, oral, masturbation. You know I like to fist you. You already mentioned degradation. I might make you display yourself for me, but nothing public. The rest is plugs, dildos, edging, piss play, and maybe some group stuff now and again.”

“That all sounds simple enough.” Frankie nodded, taking it all in. “Is… is this what we used to do together?”

“Yes.” Tilly looked guilty at the mention of his prior times with Frankie, and Frankie couldn’t help feeling a little satisfaction at that. “Lots of oral, cum eating, anal, then I’d fist you. Wide, not deep. Like I said, we never did anything you didn’t like.”

Frankie rolled his eyes and drained his glass. “I want a safe word too.”

“Naturally. Do you have one?”

“January.” Frankie answered immediately. He’d been using the same safe word since his twenties, making it ingrained in his mind. “So, I think that’s everything.”

“Not quite.” Tilly set the pad and pen down next to his lemonade. “This part is a little, shall we say, delicate. I’m not going to beat around the bush, though. I know you’re in a, well, a relationship with Tyler Jansen, an up-and-coming online porn star. Now, I’m not going to tell you that you can’t have a boyfriend, but he might not be very understanding of our arrangement.”

“I’ve already talked to him about this.” Frankie frowned. So Tilly knew about Tyler? Of course, he did. “So long as you can promise me I won’t be a part of any other part of your organization, then we’re both fine with this arrangement.”

“Organization? You make me sound like a crime boss.” Tilly laughed. “But if you’ve already spoken to him, then I think we’re done for the day. Unless you’d like to stay the night?”

Frankie hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “I still have work tomorrow. I’ll have to talk to my boss and hand my notice in before I start working for you.”

“So you’ll take the job?” Tilly looked overjoyed. 

“I wanna run everything from today past Tyler, but yeah, I think so.” Frankie stood up, with Tilly leading him back to the front door. “I’ll let you know when I’ve spoken to my boss so I can give you a start date.”

“But I haven’t shown you the cars yet.” Tilly smirked, holding the door open. “Why don't you come over this weekend? Have a look at the cars and start your extra duties early.”

Frankie paused for a fraction of a second before nodding, swallowing hard as he shook Tilly’s hand and got back into his truck. Setting off back home, Frankie shifted in his seat. 

He had lied. 

He didn’t know why he told Tilly he would go over it with Tyler. He was taking the job. He knew that now. 

From the moment he’d started talking about sex acts and what they would and wouldn’t be doing, he had felt his dick twitch. Even as Tilly briefly spoke about what they’d done together, he’d felt his arousal growing. They were going to fuck this weekend after viewing the cars, and Frankie was concerned how much he was looking forward to it. Even though thoughts of Tyler and his beautiful soulful eyes and goofy smile made him feel guilty, he still shivered at the thought of Tilly’s cock in him. 

#frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x male character #francisco morales x original male character(s) #triple frontier #m/m fiction #rock bottom fic

[coolkidstable]

guess who’s back!

it’s been like a week but i am BACK BABY! as you can guess i have mixed feelings about that entire series, which were amplified by the fact that i actually went to that game - yes, game 4 - as a (slightly early) birthday present from my brother. this is truly just 2.3k words of me being emo and getting personal, but it helped me process everything. and sorry for the lack of a read more but i’m on mobile lmao

i made it clear to both family and friends that i wanted this series to be a close one, for the home team to win each game, and for it to be a hard fought series that shows just how good both of these teams are. (maybe this wasn’t as clear on tumblr, but the decision to step away was made abruptly, though i’m very glad i did it.) that, well, didn’t happen. the canes are a great team, and their success wasn’t a fluke. don’t even try to suggest that. but this series didn’t work for them, for reasons that i really don’t know but may be revealed with time. who knows. regardless, it was a fantastic run and while i wish the ending wasn’t so bitter, i’m so proud of this team and all that they accomplished this season. the future is bright, and this time “next year will be better” isn’t just a hope - it’s a promise.

i really wanted them to score a goal, though. i love tuukka, and i want him to win those two trophies so badly, but i was really hoping he’d give up a goal. obviously, the canes’ chances of coming back to win the series were slim to none, but one last goal would’ve been a way to end the season on a somewhat promising note. and it’s weird and a bit sad that i went to 3 home games this season, and didn’t even get to hear raise up in person - two shutouts and a whalers night for which brass bonanza played instead.

that’s not the main reason, though. i was at this game with my brother, whose main team is the canes, who just got back into hockey late last season, opting to root for his local team over his childhood rangers and getting to see such an incredible run. he just wanted to see a goal to ease the blow, and i was right there with him. it was expected, though, and he’s not crushed or anything. he went to some pretty special games this season, including both the first storm surge and the first playoff win, and he knows that the rest of our family is happy. and really, that’s what it all comes back to - family.

the first bruins game that i have even the vaguest of memories of watching is the 2010 winter classic against the flyers. i’m not even 100% sure if i watched any of it; i just remember asking my dad why they were playing outside and catching glimpses of the game while he watched. he and my mom, once diehard bruins fans, had become fairweather fans upon moving to north carolina in 2003. the bruins, quite frankly, sucked, and games were rarely on tv. meanwhile, the patriots were quite the opposite. the bruins soon started to improve and began to creep back into our lives. i remember the 2011 cup finals, and not knowing a single player other than zdeno chara - the Tall One - and tim thomas - the Brick Wall. i don’t remember much else, but i was there in some capacity.

then came 2013. a series against the leafs. a historical game 7 comeback from a 4-1 deficit. i remember watching bits and pieces of this game on two different TVs - first the main one downstairs, where my dad was watching, only because it was the playoffs. he didn’t watch or care about regular season hockey - i didn’t even know there’d just been a lockout. when he gave up on this game, he went upstairs to go to bed and turned on the tv for background noise while i hung around to say goodnight. we were almost done when nathan horton scored the first goal, and from there, we watched history unfold. i was losing my mind - was this what i’d been missing out on?

from there, i watched the rest of the playoffs, and i haven’t looked back since. first i watched this young undersized rookie defenseman by the name of torey krug take the rangers by storm, then i watched the bruins hand the penguins‘ asses to them in a swift 4-game sweep that began with a shutout on my birthday, and then i watched the bruins lose a hard-fought series against the chicago racistlogos in the blink of an eye. it was a rollercoaster of a postseason, and i spent most of my free time learning about the game and my new favorite player, who i must regretfully admit was seguin. every game brought me closer to my dad, as before the game 7 comeback, i’d never join him to watch sports, or anything, really. in turn, it allowed him to reconnect with the sport he’d once loved most of all.

the next season was a good one as well: my first full season, the first game i ever attended in person, and the bruins winning the president’s trophy. that season ended in disappointment, but it was a good run, and i grew an appreciation for every single member of that bruins team. (nowadays, i guess that attitude is what the kids would call my brand.)

halfway through that season, i discovered hockey tumblr. i didn’t really make content or liveblog or even talk in the tags, and i never made any lasting connections, but still, it was a community that i greatly enjoyed. it also opened my eyes to other teams, and i started to experiment with the whole having more than one team thing - yeah, those were my stars fan days, among other questionable choices that aren’t important right now. this is also where the canes first came into my life, though not as a true second team until much more recently. things were changing, and not always for the better.

the 2014-15 season was fun, though i wasn’t able to watch as many games due to not knowing about r/NHLStreams or anything of that nature. regardless, the bruins just simply weren’t very good, and the season ended in disappointment. a few months later, hockey became very disappointing for reasons i won’t get into, and this coincided with my second emo phase (see: my current url). i ended up jumping ship for bandom tumblr and the life of a panic! at the disco stan.

still, i kept up with the 2015-16 season a little. it kinda sucked, but it was fine. i still loved the team - i just wasn’t really invested anymore. and maybe it was for the best given how busy school was that year. the next season went much the same, only this time, the bruins made the playoffs, i had just about given up on using tumblr at all, and there was this new kid on the team named sean kuraly.

the 2017 playoffs were odd. i hadn’t watched many games that season, and i hadn’t watched a bruins playoff game since the last time i was truly invested in hockey. still, it wasn’t like a switch flipped and i suddenly stanned the bruins again. i spent all the games in that series playing pokémon moon while occasionally glancing at the screen to see what was happening. i wasn’t even truly playing the game; i’d already beaten it and was merely trying my hand at shiny hunting a jangmo’o by hatching dozens and dozens and dozens and dozens and dozens of eggs, nicknaming them, and randomly trading them over the internet. it was mindless enough to pay attention, and pay attention i did.

it was kind of like the rangers series, on a smaller and less successful scale. much like torey krug before him, sean kuraly came out with a bang and made bruins fans love hockey again - or maybe i’m just projecting. regardless, you know he scored the 2OT winner, and you know about the kuraleap. i don’t remember how many jangmo’os named sean, kuraly, and sean kuraly i traded to the lucky people of pokémon sun and moon wondertrade, but the humber was definitely higher than 52. the bruins did lose the series, but i was interested again.

when the 2017 draft happened, i felt a special connection to it by virtue of these boys being the right age to be in the same high school graduating class as me. this draft piqued my interest in a way no other since 2014 truly had (unpopular opinion on 2015, i know, especially considering my favorite player was drafted fourteenth that year), and you know what? it had been a few months since i’d been active on tumblr, but i searched a few tags and started peaking back at hockey tumblr. i was almost convinced i should dive back in and redo my account for the second time, but i had college orientation to worry about, and by the time i returned, the motivation was lost.

until the 2017-18 home opener. you all know i love jake debrusk, and you probably know he scored his first nhl goal in that game (alongside charlie mac). you’ve seen the video and/or gifs of his dad crying. but beyond all that, it was just a damn good game. i had so much fun watching it - in boston, no less, because finally, after all those years trapped in my hometown, i was where i wanted to be - that i just had to get involved with hockey tumblr again. watching on my own wasn’t going to be enough, i knew.

and so, tumblr user @david-pastrnak returned. honestly, that season was fun, but the first half felt like a blur - likely just because it was my first semester of college. i even went to my first bruins home game in november, and though it wasn’t a good one, it was fun. they picked up the season with a win against tampa on the day i met my favorite band, and somehow, that seemed important. soon i saw my first live bruins win on td garden ice, and even went to a few more games, during which i watched as my grandma grew to love hockey and the bruins, bringing us closer together. it was around this time that i truly embraced the hurricanes, too, and having that second team that i truly care about and love has made being a hockey fan so much fun. it was also around this time that i rediscovered my love for writing. things were changing for the better, but they were only getting started. even when the bruins lost in disappointing fashion to the lightning, i knew things were going to be okay - better, even.

the off-season was mostly uneventful, but towards the end and into the beginning of the season, i ended up in a few group chats with others on here. some of these are still active while others are not, but regardless, i connected with a lot more people, got better at making conversation, and, most importantly, found some of the best friends i’ve ever had. you don’t really expect to meet a lifelong friend on the internet, never mind several, but i’ve gotten incredibly lucky!

this season has been special. i started going to games more often, grew to care about every member of this team more than i’ve probably ever cared about the entire team, and made some incredible friends who i’m blessed to know. and beyond me, this season has been incredible. you know that if you’re reading this, so i won’t get into it all. there were ups and downs, there were moments we thought we’d be golfing in april, and now we’re going to the stanley cup final. the last time this happened, i had just started watching hockey and was still learning. i was also a literal child who still thought i was straight. a lot has changed since then, and somehow, this stanley cup final feels like a culmination of everything i’ve been through with and because of this team. winning the cup isn’t just about how happy it would make jake, how much tuukka deserves it, or whether sean would hand it to danton or vice versa. it’s not about watching to see who helps wags lift it without damaging his injured hand further. it’s not even about watching the look of pure joy on pasta’s face and thinking back to his draft day and my bold, unwarranted, yet correct claim that he would be one of, if not the best player to come out of the 2014 draft. no matter how much they mean to me, winning the cup isn’t about the players.

winning the cup this season would be a celebration of all the friends i’ve made, the stories we’ve shared, and the connections we’ve made. winning the cup would be a celebration of how much closer hockey has brought me to my family. shit, winning the cup would be a celebration of kureinen and all our fun memes because why the hell not?

winning the cup isn’t about the players, or the team, or the parade, or the bragging rights for fans of boston sports. winning the cup is about the deeply meaningful and even just the fun ways in which hockey and the community on here have positively impacted our lives.

and even if we don’t, it’s okay. this season has been by far the best i’ve ever watched, and no matter what happens, it’s one i’ll always remember.

but hey, if we do, i’ll get my first tattoo to commemorate it. speaking of playoff promises, from now on, i’m going to have to talk like anders bjork on here so checkurohhhhhhhh

#now that that’s out of my system: i cannot believe ive been to two series winning games what the fuck #and i need to finish the fic i promised but once i get home it’ll be my priority! #personal #also i won’t be fully back until tomorrow in reality bc i’m busy today lmao #long post

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #cult au #tw: religious themes #tw: dubcon #tw: blood #tw: minor character death #tw: abuse #hades.dark #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader

[harrysgoldenline]

can you pls write an angst where y/n went to her and harry's house that they bought or something like that in Italy to try to move on and go on with her life after harry broke up with her but then she never expected that harry will be there as well with his new gf.... you can end it whatever you like!! thank you

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: idk, sad I guess? also not proof read oops sorry lol

When In Italy

It has been three months since you’ve last seen or spoken to Harry. A very abrupt change after being together for four years, with constant talk of marriage and starting a family, the break up was something either of you really expected. It started as a break of sorts, eventually turning into a complete break up after only a couple weeks in a somewhat mutual way. With Harry's career taking off in so many different ways, with acting, the new tour and more, his life had changed completely and has left him very little time for anything else.

It went from daily phone and FaceTime calls, constant text messages and flowers being delivered to nothing.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Your best friend asked you, concern plastered all over her face, “that won’t bring up too much?”

She had been sitting with you as you finished packing up your suitcase, trying her best to give you her support as you were going to be going on a spur of the moment trip to Italy and staying at the home of you and Harry, needing the much needed getaway and disconnecting completely. Seeing different things online about him all the time didn’t make it any easier and no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, he always found his way to pop up.

“I just need a break, everything here is a reminder to.” You sigh, “I just want a change of scenery. I think it’ll be good for me.”

“I hope so…” she frowned, looking up at you with a sad smile, “please don’t just sit there in the house all alone. Go out, meet some local Italian men!”

“I’m definitely not ready for that.” You say, forcing a laugh as you close your suitcase, zipping it up and placing it on the floor by your door, “but I will really try, I promise. I will call you if I need you and you can come out?”

“Hell yeah I can.” She laughs, standing up and giving you a hug, “and you’re really going right now?”

You bite your bottom lip as your eyes fill up with tears, nodding quickly as you look at her and she quickly pulled you in a tight hug.

“You can do this.”

***

You pulled your suitcase through the front door, waving goodbye to the driver as you turned around to close the door behind you as they left you alone in the house that has so many memories inside. You pause at the door, taking a couple deep breaths as you look around and try and keep your mind at bay before walking to the guest bedroom, deciding the main bedroom was too much and the guest bedroom was already way nicer than your apartment.

After taking the time to unpack, knowing you would stay awhile, you put away your things into the various drawers and closet in the room. You keep out a swimsuit and change into it quickly, sliding a simple dress overtop before walking out onto the balcony attached to the bedroom, taking in the smell of the ocean and beautiful view, memories overwhelming your senses.

“Well don’t you look absolutely stunning.” You can practically hear him say all over again, reliving the memory as if it was actually happening, “ ‘m the luckiest man in the world.”

You remember him coming up behind you, arms tight around your waist as his head rested on your shoulder, soft kisses being pressed along your shoulder as you leaned back into him, a large smile covering both of your faces before you leaned your head back, connecting your lips before he pulled back.

“I can’t decide…” He had whispered, connecting your lips again.

“Decide what?” You had giggled, turning around to face him, arms resting around his shoulders as his came around your waist.

“If I want to get married here or have our honeymoon here.”

You shuddered slightly as the memory came back, letting out a deep breath before packing a beach bag quickly and leaving the house just as fast, taking a walk down to the private beach and settling yourself in a lounge chair. Applying your sunscreen you could almost convince yourself it was him applying it on you like he always would do, large hands massaging it into your skin.

You push the thought away as you grab your phone, playing music softly to try and distract your mind. Your fingers hovered over your different social media apps, wanting desperately to just give it a quick click, wondering if you could get any update on where he could be from his fans, posts always finding their way on your feed. Instead, you hold it down, deleting all of the various apps and throwing your phone down on your bag, grabbing your book and letting the music play, opening to the first page to try and escape into the new world.

***

After a few hours been spent peacefully on the beach, you decided to head back to the house to take a nice bubblebath and order yourself some dinner, deciding that you would go to town the next morning in order to cook some of your own meals. The walk back to the house was more enjoyable this time and you began to feel a sense of hope as you approached the house, your heart not clenching in as much pain as it originally had done when you first pulled up to the house earlier that day.

Using your keys, you unlocked the back door, locking it behind you again as soon as you got inside, making your way to the bathroom right away and letting the water fill up the bathtub, pouring in some of the fancy bubblebath that you remember buying once from your favorite boutique in town, making a mental note to stop there again tomorrow.

Discarding your clothes, you hung them up, deciding you could use it once more as a cover up after not even going into the water, and you honestly didn’t even have the energy to even think about doing laundry right now, even simply showering was too much most days so you were happy to submerge yourself simply into the warm water, eyes fluttering closed as it embraced you with it’s comfort.

You began preparing yourself a mental list of things you could do tomorrow, forcing yourself to get out of the house and keep yourself occupied after locking yourself away in your apartment the past few months, planning on taking baby steps but knowing that even starting will be more like a push off a cliff.

Pulling yourself out of the bath once finishing cleansing your body, deciding to save washing your hair for the next day, you pulled yourself out of the bath, honestly just wanting to curl up into bed and go to sleep but knowing you needed to force yourself to eat something. So, you dry off, applying some matching lotion to your body, which made you feel a sense of pride of yourself as you made small steps to take care of yourself again, thanking the air of Italy as self motivation and threw on the robe that you swear was the softest one in the world.

A sudden sound coming from the house made you jump, a hand coming over your chest to try and calm your racing heart as your mind tried to think of all of the possibilities of who could be there, or maybe it was coming outside? Or honestly at this point you thought it could be your imagination as the memories that have been flashing into your mind have been so vivid it felt like it was actually happening. Your feet softly padded on the wood flooring, making your way to what you thought was the site of the sound, feeling bile rise in your throat at the sight before you.

It was Harry there, with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life, laughing together.

You weren’t sure if they saw you, both of their hair wet as towels wrapped around them and it seemed like they had just got back from the beach, making you think that you must have just missed each other as you swapped positions. You slowly walk backwards, thinking of running out the back towards the beach and calling a car, leaving all of your clothes there.

You could see slightly into the master bedroom, seeing their suitcases sprawled and things laid on the couch as they chatted together, knowing they must have arrived when you were down at the beach, your presence unknown as all of your things sat seemingly hidden in the guest room which you were now desperately trying to go and hide in, but after it being too log since you been here, you accidentally ran into the wall, a photo that was hanging there crashing to the floor, glass shattering.

Two heads quickly snapped their way towards you, both pairs of eyes meeting yours as gasps left both of their lips, Harry’s face going pale as he saw you. You opened your mouth to speak, but with this being your first time seeing your partner since the breakup, no words were able to come out.

Spinning on your heel your ran back into the guest bedroom, pulling the suitcase out of the closet and messily shoving all of your clothes into it, tears stinging your eyes and unable to hold them in as they silently spilling on you cheeks, more coming as you heard the familiar steps coming your way, feeling the presence behind you and hearing the door shut softly behind you.

“Y/N?”

—————————————————————————

Part 2 anyone???

ALSO PLEASE READ THIS!!

I was wondering what people would think about me doing personalized little blurbs/imagines for people who donate to my tip jar? you could give me your name, prompt, pronouns, etc and i will write it just for you!! :) i’m trying to write more and it’s hard bc i’m a broke college student who needs to work but if people who WANT a personalized little fic with bucky or harry or something with their own name and such maybe I could do something like that? of course I will still be doing all normal requests and such but this way it’s kinda like a one time patreon for people who want to do something like that? idk please comment/send me a message/ask and let me know what you think!!!! let’s talk!

#harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles imagines  #harry styles headcannon #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles writing #harry styles request #fic rec #harry styles #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles one shot

[gaitwae]

Could you write a fic where Loki and female reader switch bodies and have to stay like that until someone figures how to turn them back?

Comment/reblog!

Tag List: @make-me-imagine @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword @xlehukax @electroma89 @joucebox @high-functioning-lokipath @lokislittlesigyn @kingix-the-confused-earthling @nilavey @superfangirl-romanogers @funsized-mimi

Warnings: A disgusting amount of fluff.

“Oh, for the last time, darling! You shouldn’t be messing with spells you don’t know the first thing of,” Loki scoffed behind you, making you jump and snap his spellbook shut. It was an odd thing to remember that Loki even had a spellbook, but you had to learn new spells somewhere, right? You were just a simple mortal, and you had no use for things like magic on Midgard.

Or so he told you.

“I mean, yeah, but what’s it to you?” you mumbled, turning around to face him. “I wanted to go over a new spell with you, if that was okay.” You put your hands together in front of you and smiled up at your friend. You tried for your best smile, which ultimately caused him to cave.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Alright. But is it within the range we spoke of? What we just went over? I don’t want you to overwhelm yourself so soon in your learning. Some messes just don’t clean as well as the others do.” He put his nose in the air as if he was remembering just how uncleanable past messes had been. He took your hands. “Let’s do the spell. Hurry. I haven’t got all day and I truly don’t want to be stuck in some kind of situation we can’t sort out ourselves.”

“It sounds like you’re noncommittal,” you teased, reciting the spell you had just read out of the spellbook not even seconds before Loki opened the door and walked in on you.

“I can be plenty committed. Just not to your self-destructive need to be a sorcerer,” he said airily, speaking through the incantation; he didn’t even comment on it. 

If he had even heard it.

When you finished the rest of your incantation, the spell started to take hold. You became woozy, and so did Loki. You crashed into his arms, and he collapsed on the floor with you in his embrace. He smelled like mint and some kind of harsh cologne, but it fitted him. It was the last piece of consciousness you could hold onto before you awoke...

+-+--

“Hey, Lokes, are you awake? Hellloooo?” Tony’s voice came. It sounded far away. You stretched, and you could still pick up that cologne from where you laid. It was less intense than you thought it would be from hardly smelling it at all. You opened your eyes.

“Where am I?” you asked, and funnily enough, so did Loki. Odd choice of words.

“Stark!” someone called. You sat up to see who the person was, but your blood ran cold at the sight. “Stark, what happened? What has been done to me!? Where is—?” 

They stopped as well. There you were, your face, your voice, but... not you. You looked down at your hands. They weren’t yours. Your heart dropped significantly.

“How’s this even possible?” you asked, hearing Loki’s voice once again. “Am I—? Did we—?”

“Don’t do anything!” your voice came again, but littered with Loki’s speech pattern. “If you stain that Asgardian leather, I’ll—I’ll—”

“Oh, you’ll what?” you scoffed, standing. “I don’t even know how this happened! I’m surprised you haven’t started running your hands all over me!”

“Oh, please, we’re friends first,” you—Loki—mocked. Tony was staring at the two of you like you were talking about the finest boots to eat. He lifted a finger, but Loki raised a hand to stop him from even trying to speak. “It appears you’ve gotten us into a mess we cannot fix, haven’t you?”

“Will someone else have to change us back?” you asked. You stood, managed to walk over to Loki, and sat down. “I didn’t mean for us to... to...”

“Swapped,” Loki sighed. “We’re swapped. Either it’ll go away on its own or we’ll have to go to Asgard to convince my father to reverse us. How in the Nine did you find such a spell? It shouldn’t even be in the books!”

“Should I leave you two alone, then?” Tony asked. “Since, uh, you’re both acting extremely weird?”

“Yes,” you and Loki chorused. You crossed your arms and Loki mimicked you. Stark left quickly, leaving you two alone in the medical room, where only a blink ago you had been in a completely different room with Loki in his own body and you in yours.

Once he had shut the door, you watched your own body twist with Loki’s mannerisms and expressions. They turned to you and pushed your chest. You scoffed, gasping. “How could you even experiment with such a spell?!” they shouted. “We might be stuck like this forever! You made me mortal!”

“I wanted to swap our perspectives,” you admitted, gulping, “but I didn’t think it would lead to this!”

“What else could it have meant?!” Loki scolded. They put their hands in the air, then dropped them. They began pacing. “I’m stuck in your body! I may have wanted to hold it, but I certainly didn’t want to have it!” 

You bit your lip. “I didn’t want to have your body, either,” you mumbled. “I just wanted you to see how I look at you... I had thought...”

“Thought what? That suddenly I would fall for you? You’re out of luck there, mortal. It wouldn’t have gone the way you wanted it to,” Loki sighed, shaking their head. They sat on the cot where they had awakened from the spell. 

“I didn’t know you knew,” you said meekly. You looked down at your hands. Your heart was racing. It didn’t usually race when you spoke to Loki. The hands that had become yours, hopefully for a short period of time, were long and pale and so different from yours.

“How could I not, little mort—Y/N?” they asked. “It’s almost like watching someone sink into a depression; everyone can see it, but no one talks about it. I know you have feelings for me. I don’t blame you, though.”

“You don’t feel the same, do you?” you asked, sitting down on your cot. Loki shrugged. 

“I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t fall for you by seeing myself the way you do.” Loki picked at your nails. “Y/N, we shouldn’t be talking about this now, we should be finding a way to get out of each other’s bodies.”

You huffed a sigh. “We should ask Strange. He knows insane magic, and I doubt if I use your powers anything will change. I already botched this spell.” You laughed but stopped when you heard what it was. It wasn’t your laugh. It was odd. Laughter was determined by one’s body, so it made sense that it wouldn’t have been yours... 

“Oh! Brilliant idea!” Loki praised falsely. Clearly, they must have still been upset about the swapping bodies thing. 

You were disappointed in yourself for it, too. “Can we just go and see him? It’ll take no time at all.”

“He isn’t even home," they sighed, wiping their face with your hand. It was hard to watch. "Why must you be so perfect? Being so adorably shy that you cannot even ask me if I love you back?"

Your heart thumped. No, no. Loki's heart thumped for you. "...Don't mock me while you're in my body. I can still hurt you."

Loki narrowed their eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I so would!" you announced, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out.

"Hurting me goes against loving me, doesn't it?" Loki asked, slightly panicky. "You couldn't draw my blood, could you?"

"I won't draw blood," you promised. "I just have your daggers on my person, and I've never really cared for this stupid Asgardian leather..."

"This is going to be a long time waiting for Strange to be back, isn't it?" Loki groaned. You nodded happily. You scooped your own body to his body's chest.

"Oh, yeah. Swapped, for better or for worse."

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki mcu #mcu loki #marvel #mcu #gait writes #gaitwae writes #loki x you #wasn't sure how to use pronouns when swapped #interesting request! #my love rose7420

[lightsovermonaco]

Attention

Masterlist

I have once again been struggling with writers block so I decided to try a song fic. Beta read by @acollectionofficsandshit​​ as per usual 🥰

Word Count: 3.1k

Song: “Attention” by Charlie Puth

Pierre only agreed to come to George's party because he was promised alcohol. Two hours in, his throat is drier than a desert, his hand is empty, and he was starting to regret his decision.

He scans the party for some sort of out. This conversation was starting to grate on his nerves and he wasn't sure he'd survive without whatever fruity cocktail George had cooked up tonight.

Parties bored Pierre. What little free time he had was better spent working out, in a car, or at home wrapped in someone he cared about. He had little patience for small talk, which is half the reason he had forgotten about the woman to his left until she breathed word of his profession.

"...heard you're some sort of driver and I had to ask."

Pierre's head snaps up. He smiles automatically at the blandly pretty woman, "yeah, I'm glad you did. You saved me from a slow, boring death."

He meant it sarcastically but she laughed anyway. It was too forced, her head thrown back and her chest pushed towards him like she wanted him to notice her low-cut top. Pierre did notice, but didn’t care to linger.

He didn't linger on much these days. 

A laugh rises above the music, carried to Pierre on cherub's wings. Everything inside him stretches and pulls until he's not sure which way his organs are actually supposed to be arranged.

You're here. Somewhere in his hellscape of strobing lights and pounding bass, you slip through the crowd.

Pierre blinks hard, wildly scanning the crowd, begging the fates to grant him some semblance of luck.

The fates have other plans. Pierre catches a glimpse of your sun-kissed skin and he can picture your dazzling smile even with your back turned.

"Fuck." Pierre's stomach drops to his feet and he shrinks, desperate to disappear into the tropical-printed cushions. 

"Um, are you okay?" His conversation partner tips her head, her wide smile not matching her otherwise perplexed expression.

Pierre yanks at the bracelets on his wrist, desperately trying to ground himself. His heart beats wildly, breath coming quick like he'd just finished a marathon. Fucking hell, he was gonna lose it. George promised Pierre he didn't have to worry.

That laugh grates against his eardrums again. Pierre is amazed he manages to keep his blue and white Nikes from being painted blue and green.

Memories surface through rose-tinted glass. Your fingers carding through his hair, stretched atop him in a barely there bikini at a deserted beach. Pierre begging you for one more kiss before getting on a plane. Your lips at the shell of his ear, whispering promises you had no intention of keeping.

He was obliviously happy then. Love came easily under the heat of the summer sun. But hearts freeze over with the first fall frost and shatter like the petals of a flower caught unaware by the sudden cold snap.

A hand brushes his arm and he jolts. "Do you need some water? You look like you're going to be sick."

"Uh, I'm fine." Pierre fights to arrange his features into a smile. "I spotted my ex and I don't really feel like talking to her."

Understatement of the century.

"Oh, I know what that's like." The woman- Lana, maybe? Pierre can't remember her name though they'd spent the better part of the last hour together- slides closer to him. Her hand lands on his knee, light as a feather. "I'm guessing it didn't end well, huh?"

Pierre scoffs bitterly. "If you call dragging my name through the mud and effectively banning me from all events that aren't hosted by my closest friends not ending well, then yes."

It'll be a miracle if you don't spot him. Pierre prays his lightened hair and poor posture are enough for you to skip over him.

Maybe-Lana clicks her tongue. "Poor baby." Her lower lip juts out in a little pout at the same time her hand slides up Pierre's thigh, applying pressure as it travels. "You wanna get out of here? She can't bother you if you're not around. And I bet I can help you take your mind off it."

Flirting, he can tolerate. The occasional suggestive touch or chaste kiss, fine. But he can't imagine taking anyone to bed and subjecting them to the embarrassment of being called by a name other than their own.

Pierre fumbles to string together words. His jaw moves but a voice that isn't his own speaks oh his behalf.

"He'll pass. Right, Pierre?" Pierre feels your heat radiating a hair's breadth from his neck. "I can tell you're trying to find a way to let her down easy. No worries, I've got it."

Your hand lands on Pierre's shoulder, giving it a quick pat. Neurons cease firing, your simple touch short circuiting his brain.

Please don't move your hand, he begs silently. He's not sure if the pitiful sound he makes is audible or not when you lift it and break the connection.

"Excuse me?"

Pierre doesn't have to look to see your red-painted lips cut a wicked, beautiful grin. God, he wants to kiss it off your face. "He's not interested, in case you haven't picked up on that. Actually, he never was. B-list actresses aren't his type."

The woman's mouth hangs open. She glances between you and Pierre, clearly expecting him to say something in her defense.

He would've chosen softer words, but you get the point across. The poor girl never had a chance. Pierre lifts his shoulder in an apologetic shrug, "she's right. Sorry."

"Wow. Okay then." Lana laughs harshly and snatches her phone and purse off the chaise. "You two make a lovely couple. Real winner you chose there, Pierre."

A tight smile stretches his cheeks. "Preaching to the choir."

You wait until the woman is out of earshot before chuckling. "I don't know why you try with those girls." When you finally hedge into Pierre's peripheral, he does his best to keep his eyes locked dead ahead. You stop directly in front of him, knees inches and oceans apart. "You know they only want you because you're semi-famous."

Like his favorite dog-eared novel, Pierre remembers your plot. Reading it a thousand times doesn't change the ending. When the final chapter comes, the same blood is shed. Crossing his fingers does not rearrange the ink on the page or stop the hero's defeat.

Twenty fingers beg to touch. Two sets of lips yearn to explore. One heart screams to run.

"Hey, Pierre."

He blows out a long, shaky breath and turns his eyes to the sky. It isn't fair for you to say his name with such reverence when it was never a holy thing to you. 

"How have you been?" You tip your head and your hair falls over your shoulder. Pierre can't describe the scent of your perfume as anything other than regret.

You're as beautiful now as you were the first time you ripped out his heart. He hates that his pain doesn't change how badly he wants you.

"Don't you like my dress?" You run a hand down your side. He does. You already know that. 

"That dress is karma," Pierre mutters. Misty blue velvet clings to your body, flowing over your curves like water until it stops mid thigh. He knows exactly what it'll feel like under his palm if he follows the trail yours blazes. No gesture from you was devoid of meaning; the exact shade of blue to match his irises you said were impossible to equal.

Pierre digs his nails into his palms because if he doesn't, he won't survive the night. And he knows that can't end in anything other than an hour of euphoria followed by weeks of silence.

"What was that?" When Pierre stays silent you lean forward, slow and sensual, and curl your pointer finger under his chin. "Speak up, I didn't hear you." Pierre counts the freckles on your brow to keep himself from counting the lashes brushing your cheek. "It's rude to avoid eye contact when speaking with someone. I know your mother raised you better than that. Should I call her and tell her how her son treats women?"

Pierre wonders how many parties you dragged your friends to tonight until you found him. Did you pay for all their cab rides? Had you bribed them with the promise of free drinks and ample desperate men to fawn over them? He doesn't understand why they are drawn to you in droves.

A heart so black, not even a mother could love you.

"I'm waiting, mon ange."

Maybe the answer is simpler. Maybe you own them the same way you own Pierre.

Pierre swallows his pride and prays he keeps his composure. Butterflies erupt in his stomach when he works up the courage to meet your lustful gaze. The soft light from the pool paints you in a ghostly bluish hue and tosses a halo around your figure.

Halloween isn't for another three months, he thinks. And yet here you are, a devil masquerading as an angel, wrapped up in a pretty bow, his death disguised in a beautiful smile.

He doesn't dare allow his gaze to venture further than your plump, glossy lips set in the same smile that reeled him in. But when you smile at him, because of him, it is enough.

"Good boy," you purr, running your finger under his jaw. He curses the shiver that runs down his spine. "Did you miss me?"

"No." Yes. "I've moved on." No he hasn't. "I haven't thought of you in forever."

"Oh, is that so?"

Pierre nods. "It's so."

Lying to you around the broken glass in his throat is one of the hardest things he's done. He thought about you five minutes before your laugh forced him to question reality. The sweatshirt you loved to steal from him hangs at the back of his closet, untouched and smelling faintly of you. Your favorite blanket remains folded neatly on the arm of his sofa, like the faded blue and white pattern might summon you back to him.

Your lips twitch upward and you sink into the recently vacated cushion next to him. Your dress rides up to expose a torturous amount of soft skin. You make no move to fix it. Pierre prides himself on keeping his hands to himself.

Pierre breathes deep and focuses on the two guys at the tiki bar downing shots, the couple fighting by the fence, the dog standing at George's feet waiting for scraps- anywhere but on you.

He was so screwed.

"Nice night." Under the guise of getting comfortable, you sling your bare legs over Pierre's lap. "Reminds me of the ones we spent together causing along Mulholland Drive." You tip your head back and laugh. The curve of your throat is a threat to his health. "You remember, don't you? I'm sure you remember fucking me on the hood of that NSX. By the way, did you ever get in trouble for that?" 

The weight of you is too familiar, too welcoming, for him to be remotely comfortable. Pierre bites his cheek to keep from groaning as your toes dip between his thighs.  "Can you not?"

Your laugh is light and airless. "Not unless you come clean and tell me the truth. Trust is a two way street."

Pierre isn't sure how he's drowning on dry land. He's nowhere near the pool but chlorine burns his nose and water rushes into his throat when he tries to breathe.

Your fingers graze his shoulder, setting five thin forest fires in their wake. "Why don't you relax, mon chou? You look awkward. It's not like you've ever had a problem touching me before."

Pierre flexes his hands where they hover a foot above your skin. He stares at your legs like doing so will magically make them move.

Fuck, he couldn't survive this again. George already dug Pierre out of one hole; he's fairly certain the Brit's kindness only extends so far.

But oh, how wonderful it would be to fall from heaven unto hell if you are the one waiting to walk through the flames to greet him.

You whisper the words that are his undoing. "Am I still someone to you?"

Pierre sets his hands on your shin. His thumb moves of its own accord, stroking lazy lines over your calf. 

Fucking weak.

"Now say you miss me."

He almost does. Pierre always does what you ask. The words creep up his throat but he rushes to replace them with his own, untainted by your floral-scented manipulation.

"You just want attention," Pierre says, stronger and more convincing than he expected. "You don't care about me, you never have. It's my fault too, because I let you. But shit, I deserve better than this, don't I? You don't want my heart. You don't love me."

"So what if I don’t?" You lean close enough for him to taste the champagne on your breath. "It'll still be more fun than with anyone else."

You both know it's the truth. No one holds a candle to the way you move and you've lived in his head for months. He sees your silhouette on the street, in the drug store, at the gym. In his dreams, his name falls from your sugar-coated lips like candy and chases him from sleep.

"Come on, baby. Kiss me and I promise I'll make it go away."

He will never be free of your ghost, so why should he try?

Pierre's heart cracks when he breathes, "One kiss."

Your snare tightens around his neck the moment your lips touch and rips him to shreds. Hungry and needy, your nails scratch the base of his skull and you pull him closer. You blow past his defenses and he opens his mouth when your tongue prods his swollen lip.

This time will be different.

When you straddle his hips the lie deflates and settles in his hollow chest.

"One dance," you murmur. Pierre can't bring himself to answer. Impatient, you nip at his lip. 

"One dance."

The last bit of himself breaks off when you haul him to his feet. Pierre avoids George's observant glare and follows after you like a lost puppy. He pretends he doesn't care when you refuse to let him thread his fingers through yours.

Sweat trickles down his back as you grind on him, one of your arms flung back to curl around his neck. Pierre dips his head to your shoulder, letting the beat take hold as he sucks a mark on your skin. He hopes you see it in the mirror and remember how you refused the moon when he pried it from the sky and offered it to you with bloodied, broken nails.

"Let's go to yours." You slot your mouth over his to swallow his answer. Pierre's whine mingles with your laugh as his stomach ties itself in knots.

Everything in him screams to cave, to call an uber and stumble into it with you glued to his lips. He wants to be intoxicated by your moans as he fucks you the way only he knows how. He wants you to carve red lines down his back and taste himself on your tongue. He wants that little sound you make as you come to linger in his consciousness forever. He wants to crawl inside your heart and get lost for so long that you finally let him stay.

The thing about dreams is they very rarely come true. Being signed to a semi-professional racing team probably met his lifetime quota of wish fulfillment. Short of stumbling upon a magic lamp, the rest of Pierre’s will indefinitely remain fantasy.

You will never want anything more than sex from him, and Pierre should come to terms with that- has come to terms with that. 

But you draw him in with your siren song and he is powerless to resist. When he grows close enough you will lash out and drag him into the sea. You'll whisper that you love him as the water rushes in and his heartbeat fades, and he will thank you for doing it, just as he always does.

Your fingers carding in his hair, pulling him from his thoughts. “Come back to mine, then. I’ll wear that green set you like so much.”

Salt bursts on Pierre's tongue when he kisses you. It's the last time he ever will and he wants to carve it in stone. His hands wander in hopes of memorizing the shape of you. Strawberry shampoo assaults his nose and he'll never be able to smell it again without thinking of you.

Pierre steps away before he breaks the kiss. He draws a breath bristling with knives. Cold floods him in the absence of your body pressed against him and he regrets it immediately, but his only chance at freedom is now.

"No," he says with a sad, knowing smile. "You already won, what more do you want from me? I'll be chasing your high for as long as I live, and I think that's punishment enough."

Your face twists with true confusion and he almost crumbles. "Pierre, I won't leave this time. I swear, I want this, I want you-"

Pierre shakes his head, chest rattling. "It's okay. I knew from the start that there was only ever one ending to us." Pierre pinches a stray curl between his thumb and forefinger. He tugs on it a little as crocodile tears spring to your eyes. "You've made sure I'll never get over you. You'll always own a too-big piece of me, and I know that's what you've always wanted. Congratulations."

Pierre withdraws his hand before you can latch onto his wrist. "No, Pierre don't. Please don't."

"I wish I didn't have to."

Your tears become a mirror, magnifying and reflecting the heartbreak into his soul.

He feels it setting in. Ash coats his taste buds; he will never taste another meal as sweet as you. Exhaustion grows roots in his bones in preparation of years spent lying awake and wondering if he was always destined to be the consort to your unhappiness. 

You are a hangover that will never end. You are the disease that will inevitably consume him.

Pierre leaves you to cry alone under the party lights, his lungs filled with the thick black tar of grief.

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #pierre gasly fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 one shot #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic

[divinefireangel]

They Just Don't Know You

Soft Yandere! Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: A 2nd longer fic for our lovely cannibalistic psychopath. I hate that I'm attracted to him. Someone please be my therapist. Or psychiatrist. Honestly doesn't matter. My brain is fucked anyway.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 16+ and written for female reader, but all can read. (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Except that I've mentioned reader is short, cuz LDW is tall 🥰. There is a brief mention of sex, but no actual smut. Reader kinda highkey hates on her parents and younger sister. Read it to know. Age gap between reader and Moon-Jo. Slight obsessive thoughts. Manipulative words. I tried to put plot twist in the end, probably you won't notice it 💀. Please please tell me if I need to add more warnings. Do not read if you start to feel uncomfortable. I apologize in advance 🥺

❗❗PLEASE READ WARNINGS ❗❗

Pre-Requisite / Summary: Just a fic based on the song They Just Don't Know You by Little Mix. After watching Strangers from hell I related this song to him for some reason. Reader and Moon-Jo are in an established relationship. And reader's loved ones don't approve.

2.3k ish words My longest fic till date 🥳

" You know that he's too old for you. You can settle for younger, much younger guys for your age sweetheart. If you can't find anyone eligible enough, we will find one for you. And you don't even know if he has intentions of marrying you. What if all he wants is just a fling or some time pass relationship. Hmm? What are you going to do then? "

Sipping her tea silently, Y/N sat next to her dad on the porch swing, listening to all the criticisms he had about Moon-Jo. All his words did was boil her blood. But what could she do when they don't walk in her shoes? They don't know how safe and content she feels when he kisses her like she's the only girl for him in the entire universe. And no point in explaining that to her father anyway. She's tried. And failed. Multiple times.

"Are you done with your tea?" She asks her dad, in desperate attempt to try and get away from him and his words because she knows, and even he knows that it's going to end up in a fight if they continue to speak on the same topic.

Humming yes, he hands her his tea cup which she takes to the kitchen so she can help her mom with dinner. Placing them in the sink upon entering the kitchen, Y/N drags her palms down her face in frustration.

" I could hear what he said you know. Your dad. He's not wrong. Seo Moon-Jo seems like he'll break your heart in three. And we're only looking out for you Y/N. You don't have to go through heartbreak when you can very well avoid it." Her mom finished slowly.

" Why. Why is it so difficult for you to accept the fact that I'm actually in a happy relationship for once in my life. So what if he's much older than I am? He's a dentist. A doctor. A very good profession and he's known and well respected in his neighbourhood too. " Y/N said loud enough for her dad also to hear.

Huffing in annoyance she left the kitchen to go upstairs to her room. Or rather the room she shares with her sister. Of course the door is wide open. The younger rascal is always here for the drama.

Ever since Y/N came out to her family about her relationship with Moon-Jo, her sister has become the favourite child, for obvious reasons. And now eavesdropping with the door wide open? That's a new low. But what else can Y/N expect from such a low life who is literally thriving off her own sister's pain and suffering.

When entering the room, Y/N realizes how big a mistake it was to visit her family. And she did not need such snark from a younger, less experienced child.

"Are you that blinded by " Love " that you don't even see how weird his hair is? A man who isn't an idol or actor doesn't need such long hair. He's clearly a fuckboy. Or man whore. Whichever is right. " She said with disgust.

'She's just jealous. She's just a jealous bitch. They all are.' Y/N thinks to herself.

" At least one of us gets laid regularly. And just so you know, it's absolutely heavenly when he makes me cum over and over on his fingers and his dick-" Y/N said as her tone slowly got lower and darker and her emotion angrier.

Screaming and covering her ears, the younger girl ran downstairs to her mother, no doubt to tattle on her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Y/N started packing her things, all of them, in a bag she took down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

It's really difficult to leave one's family, but it is clearly getting more and more tiresome to love them nowadays. If it's so wrong to date him, why does Y/N herself not see it? She's a logical and smart young lady. Does her family hate that man so much that they don't even want her to be happy? No matter who she's with. And is it so bad to date a man who's older? Richer? And cares more about her than all of her family members combined?

Wiping the fallen tear stains from her cheek, she just thinks to herself ' They just don't know him. They just don't know him like I do. '

Sending a text to her lover, saying that she misses him and that she's coming back home sooner than planned, Y/N carries her bag through the front door, her parents and sister ignoring her as she leaves and walks out that door one final time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once reaching their shared apartment, Y/N collapsed into her lover's arms the moment he opens the door, crying her eyes out. Seeing his lover in turmoil, shedding a tear or two of his own, Moon-Jo carries her to the living room couch to cradle her like a child who needs attention.

" They- They said -"

" Shh my darling. I know. " Moon-Jo said, shushing his girlfriend and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once she's calmed a little, her sobs turning to sniffs, she lifts her head to meet his gaze.

Seeing her sad, tear stained eyes always upset him. More than anything in the world. Running his long slender fingers across her cheeks and jaw, he removes her hair from her ponytail with his free hand and rests it on her thigh.

" Tell me. Please tell me that you won't break my heart like them. That you won't try to tear my world apart like them. " Y/N looked desperately at him, wanting so badly to know that he's not just using her.

Those words, that slipped out her mouth, shocked Moon-Jo, to say the least. What did he do wrong? What did her family fill her head with?

Tilting his head to a little, he looks into her red eyes, trying to read her mind for a moment, all the while she just looked at him with the same desperate expression.

"Please tell me that you will be there when I need you the most. " Y/N whispered so softly, she herself barely heard it. But the end of the sentence, she started crying all over again.

Taking her head to his neck, he stroked her hair and her sides, trying to calm her down.

" Darling. I promise with my everything, that I will never leave you, I will never ever let you go. That I will do anything, anything necessary to prove my love to you. "

"No, oh dear no. That's not, you don't have- have to do anything at all to make me believe you love me. I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question. " She sobbed out.

Shushing her softly again, he rocks their bodies back and forth, till she's calmed and fallen asleep there, in his arms. Knowing that his arms are her only safe place for her from now on, he takes her delicate figure to the bedroom.

Placing her on her side of the bed, he lays down on his. Staring at her stunning face, he feather touches her face with his fingertips, memorizing every curve, every little detail on her, like a sculptor admiring his work and giving it the finishing touches.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

" So, I did a little digging on your sugar daddy. "

" Why?! And he's not my sugar daddy. " Y/N said in disbelief. No. Not her dear best friend too.

" I know you said not to and I'm sorry. But I am worried about you. He made you leave your family Y/N. " They stated with worry and sympathy.

" No. He didn't make me leave them. I left them by choice. They don't see him like I do. And clearly, they hate that I'm happy with him. " Y/N finished as they sat down at the lunch table.

" Y/N..... "

" What? Even you don't want me to be happy? " She questioned her friend in disbelief. Laughing sarcastically Y/N shook her head.

" I've heard rumours! Okay? He was in the orphanage that had that severe fire explosion. And most of the culprits from that incident are MIA. What if he's one of the people who caused it?! " They said in a whisper, worried that the neighbouring people can hear their conversation.

" Do you really think that? All of that is just a rumour. And he's told me about it. He's told me everything. Unlike my parents who so desperately tried to tie me down to an arranged marriage. "

" He's not good for you. I know you deserve better. Okay he may make happy and all but what if he leaves? What if he just uses you and drops you like you were nothing? We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt Y/N. Physically and emotionally. " They finished.

" This, all what you said, is cheap talk. But it'll eventually wear down because when we get married and have kids and all that in the future, you're all going to look like fools. And I will proudly say ' I told you so '. "

" If that's the case then I am the happiest person for you. Hopefully I won't have to be the one to say ' I told you so'. "

" Wow. I, just- hah. Wow. Just wow. " She paused.

" You know, I really hoped you would be more supportive or at least tolerant enough to have patience and support me with my decision for my love. " Y/N said loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear audibly.

Of all the people she would have to drop, never even in her nightmares had she fathomed that her best friend would be one.

Getting up from the table, she picks up her bag and leaves without another word, and goes to the only place that has love for her and that accepts her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reaching home, Y/N notices the place empty. Maybe he's at the clinic?

Shrugging off her bag and jacket she sits on the couch for a moment, before her restlessness takes over and she begins pacing in the living room.

Why are people being like this? Do they hate her so much? They barely know him. Why are they treating and accusing him to be such a criminal! He's not. He takes care of Y/N so much. He loves her so much. He provides for her. He's affectionate with her, more than he's told he thought capable. He's become her ride or die. And she, his.

They don't know him like I do. They will never love me like he does.

They don't know about the love they have. The just see what they want to see. Bloody society dictating whom to love and whom to not. Is it so hard to see the love they have for each other? Can't they just let it be. They don't know the turmoil she's gone through recently; they don't know how well he's taken care of her, kept her happy and same enough to not let her intrusive thoughts get the best of her.

Her thoughts interrupted by the door clicking open. Smiling, Moon-Jo enters with a box, surely containing sweets from her favourite bakery. How can you not love someone so considerate, who does things for you without even having to ask.

Seeing the sad look upon his lover's face, Moon-Jo's smile fades into a frown.

" What's wrong my dear? "

Smiling sadly Y/N just shakes her head, conveying that she doesn't want to talk about it.

Placing the box of sweets on the coffee table, the two hug each other, feeling of comfort taking over them both. She can just stay here, forever, in his arms till the world ends.

" Babe. What's wrong? You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I'll take care of the problem. " Delicately Moon-Jo cradles Y/N's head in his palms, making her face up to him, their height difference evident.

Sighing, she moves to sit on the couch, motioning him to do the same. " It's just people. And what they say. My family was one thing, but my best friend, the person I chose as my family " Pausing Y/N breathers the tears back in, " They were doubtful of you today. How can I live knowing that no one will approve of us? " Y/N questioned looking at him.

" Does their opinion really matter that much? So much so that you are skeptical of my affection to you? " Coldly, he moved back from his seat on the couch.

" No! No. Gosh that is not what I mean. Not at all. I love you and I know that you love me. So much. So much so I would die for you. But there are other people whom I care about. Who's opinions matter to me. And I don't want to let them go. As happy as I am with you, I need them too. They give me joy in a different way, that is important. "

" Do I not make you happy? Are you not content with the love I give you? Is it not enough? " He asks carefully.

" That's not what I meant! You love me more than anyone I've known. "

"Then what's the problem? You don't need those people who don't love you. You have me. You will have me forever and ever. I will never leave you. And you will never leave me either. We'll be with each other till the end of the world darling. "

Nodding with a small smile you looked down at your feet.

Unhappy with your action, Moon-Jo pulls your face up by your chin to look at him with such force, it scared you a little, making your heart skip a beat in fear.

" Do you not love me, babe? " He asked tilting his head to a side, his expression mildly offended.

" I do! I love you. So much. " You finished with a soft tone, cupping his face with your hands.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Moon-Jo leaned down to capture your lips with his. Reacting immediately, you kissed him with as much energy and sincerity you could muster, as you head filled with thoughts of doubt.

Had your parents been right? Had for friend been right? Had they all been right all along and you too blind to see?

No. It can't be. He loves you. He's said that so many times. And you love him.

You love him.

You.

Love.

Him.

...

Do you love him, or have you been illusioned into loving him?

#lee dong wook #lee dong wook imagine #lee dong wook x reader #ldw #strangers from hell #strangers from hell x reader #hell is other people #seo moon jo #seo moon jo x reader #seo moon jo imagine #seo moon jo x f!reader #yandere seo moon jo

[earlgreydream]

vaccines.

| bucky barnes x reader | fluff |

bucky drabbles 🥺 ❤️

anon requested. I was wondering if you could write a fic where Bucky comforts/ takes care of the reader after she gets her vaccine? Like just full of tooth-rotting fluff 

a/n: i decided to make this one a blurb because i thought it fit better that way

Bucky picked you up from the doctor’s appointment, and you felt fine at first. But in the car on the way home, you started getting a terrible migraine and feeling like you had the flu. 

“Hang in there, we’re almost home,” Bucky promised, feeling sympathetic for you. His hand smoothed over your thigh between shifting the gears of his vintage yellow car. You whimpered and winced as he drove over a uneven part of the road, jostling you.

“I’m so sorry, doll,” he apologized, and you shook your head. 

He carried you inside, your arms hooked around his neck as you were taken to your bedroom. He got you settled amongst the pillows, draping your favorite blanket over you when you complained of being cold. He made sure you were comfortable, handing you the remote to turn on Netflix before moving toward the door. 

“Don’t leave me, I need you,” you looked at Bucky with sad eyes, and he brushed hair from your face gently.

“I’m just going to make you some tea and get you some tylenol. I promise I’m coming back.” 

You nodded weakly, knowing you didn’t have a say in the matter, and you were too weak to get up and follow him to the kitchen. Once Bucky turned the kettle on in the kitchen, grabbing a teabag, he picked up his cellphone. 

“Banner, Y/N is feeling really sick after the vaccine. I’m worried,” Bucky anxiously expressed to the doctor on the phone. 

“That’s totally normal, you don’t need to worry, it’ll go away in a day or so. Send Y/N my best.” 

He thanked the doctor before finishing your tea so he could rejoin you in bed. You looked so small and weak in your state, and Bucky’s heart ached for you. He hated seeing you sick, something being wrong that he couldn’t fix. 

“You’re burning up,” Bucky sighed, touching your hot forehead. Tears started to slip down your cheeks in defeat, just feeling so shitty and exhausted. 

“Oh, doll, no,” Bucky breathed, sitting down behind you and wrapping you in his arms. 

You were shivering from cold, despite your body burning up, trying to soak up Bucky’s body heat. 

“You need to relax, Y/N.”

You tried, and Bucky dragged another blanket over you, putting the tea in your hands and urging you to drink it. He tied your hair back from your face, and you took the tylenol he brought for you. 

“Pick out something to get your mind off of it,” he searched through Netflix with you. 

“Whatever you want.”

“You’re too sweet to me,” you laughed softly, and he kissed your temple. You put on Star Wars, which Bucky decided he could live with without being too miserable. 

“We can order whatever you want for dinner, or I can make something whenever you get hungry,” Bucky promised.

“Can you make your special Romanian food for me?”

“Certainly,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

You traced the lines on his vibranium arm as you watched Revenge of the Sith, eventually warming up in his hug. His fingers brushed through your hair and every so often you felt a kiss against the top of your head.

“I wish Anakin didn’t turn to the dark side,” you sighed, and you felt Bucky’s laugh against your back.

“You’ve seen this movie how many times? You know that’s how it ends,” he teased.

“I’m just saying,” you mumbled shyly.

“I love you.”

You got hungry once the movie was finished, and Bucky got up to go to the kitchen to cook for you. You followed despite his protests to stay in bed, but you threatened to cry if he used his super-soldier-serum-strength to keep you in bed. 

You wrapped up in a blanket and held his metal hand as you followed him to the kitchen. He lifted you to sit on the counter beside where he was cooking, handing you his phone to turn on music. 

“You called Banner?” You asked, seeing his most recent history.

“Yes, I was worried about you,” Bucky gazed at you softly, and your heart swelled.

You leaned forward to kiss him, appreciating your sweet, loving boyfriend. The house began to smell like his home-cooked food, the familiarity of it bringing you comfort. 

“Go sit, doll,” Bucky lifted you down off the counter and lightly swatted your ass. Even when you were sick, it was his way of getting you to move or just to remind you of him as you walked by. You giggled at the action, going to sit at the table to eat. 

He set a plate in front of you, rubbing your back as you ate. 

“This is amazing, thank you,” you smiled up at him. He returned it, kissing the tip of your nose. 

He loved on you the rest of the evening, trying to make you feel better and cheer you up. After taking a bath and having your back rubbed, you were in Bucky’s oversized clothes, curled up in bed. 

He was asleep soundly beside you, his arm draped over your waist, resting on your tummy under your top. You tried to drift off, but your discomfort prevented you from doing so. Bucky had been so sweet and spent the entire day taking care of you, and you didn’t want to wake him. You laid there in silent suffering, staring at the wall, trying not to squirm. 

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was thick with sleepiness, deeper than normal.

“I can’t sleep, I’m sorry,” you apologized. 

“It’s alright, doll. Give me a minute,” he mumbled, getting out of bed. He dragged on a hoodie and rubbed his eyes, tying his long hair into a bun.

“Let’s go,” he waved for you to follow him, and you got out of bed. He grabbed the keys and the two of you went outside, Bucky opening the passenger door of the car for you. 

He handed you the blanket from the back seat, getting in the driver’s side. Soft music played from his radio, and you stretched out, letting Bucky drive you around to lull you to sleep. 

It became habit when you couldn’t sleep, he’d roll through quiet neighbourhood streets, taking you for a drive. He always woke up for you, not letting you be awake alone. Bucky knew all-too-well what it was like to lie awake at night alone, and he never wanted you to feel that way.

You were beginning to feel better, and the drive lulled you to sleep. Bucky was careful not to wake you when he moved you two back to bed, thankful you were finally able to rest. 

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky blurb #bucky drabble #bucky oneshot #bucky one shot #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x you fluff #bucky x y/n fluff #winter soldier #the winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fluff #tfatws #fatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes au #marvel #the avengers #marvel au #avengers au #james buchanan barnes #requested #anon

[a-funny-little-sunflower]

Yandere Nuada x reader

[Warning, there's a minor murder scene so if you aren't interested in anything like that just skip over it or don't read the fic, whatever makes you the most comfortable. Hope you enjoy :)]

Translation: Darling wife - bean chéile darling.

You had just come down to the sewers to see how Nuada was and to bring him some food you had made for him, but what you were greeted with instead is something that will stay with you till the day you die.

You could remember everything, no matter how much you tried to forget. You could recall how unwelcoming the sewers were that day, even though you had traversed them many times in the months of courting Nuada. It was almost like they were trying to warn you of the danger ahead.

As you walked, you could hear the faint sounds of what seemed to be, moans of pain, and the closer you came to Nuada’s residence, the louder the sounds became.

You grew worried for your love and began to quicken your pace for fear that your beloved was in pain. Oh, how you wished you hadn’t, maybe then you wouldn’t have seen it.

But you did…

And nothing will ever change that…

As you entered Nuada’s residence, you were met with a terrible sight.

It was Nuada all right, his pale elvish complexion seemed to glow in the dark of the sewers, but he was on top of something…Or rather…Someone.

It was an acquaintance from work, someone you barely knew, John was his name…He had shown romantic interest in you before, but you had always politely declined any of his advances, after all, you had Nuada!

But the man you knew from work was barely recognisable in his current state. He was covered in blood; his eyes were glazed over with tears and he was letting out cries of agony.

What made this sight so much worse was that Nuada was the cause of it…He was on top of him, holding a sharp-looking blade of some kind, with a dangerous look in his golden eyes that you didn’t trust.

He was moving the blade around the man’s face with murderous intent while talking in a dark mocking tone…what was he saying…?

“If you had just taken the hint that my beloved had no interest in filth like you, this whole thing could have been avoided.” Nuada moved the blade towards the man’s chest and held it just above his heart. Like he was deciding his fate.

Nuada stared into the man’s eyes before saying, “You should have stayed away.” Nuada raised the blade above his head, letting it shine in reflected light for a moment, before slamming it down violently, so it met its mark directly in the man’s heart.

But Nuada didn’t stop there.

He ripped the blade out of the man and raised it again, ready to stab him once more, and that’s exactly what Nuada did. He stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed until his clothing was soaked with blood, and splatters of the man’s blood covered his face.

When he was finished with the brutal murder, he got to his feet and stood above the man’s dead body, staring at it in disgust for a moment before turning his head and looking directly…at…you…

There was tense silence filled with things unsaid as you two stared into each other’s eyes, neither of you able to talk.

Nuada hadn’t expected you here, otherwise, he would have left the disposal of that filth till a later date so he could give you all his attention. After all, you were kind enough to come to see him, albeit suddenly, and from the basket in your hand, you must have brought him something to eat. You were always so kind like that, so willing to lovingly care for him, a perfect love, to which no other could compare.

While Nuada’s thoughts were calm, yours were running rampant, you couldn’t process what had happened, you didn’t WANT to process what happened! It had to be some kind of joke…It had to be…

Nuada’s mouth stretched up into a soft welcoming smile, but after what you had just witnessed, his grin seemed almost demonic. His smile lessened when he saw how you were looking at him, he tilted his head at you in confusion and spoke.

“Pretend you never saw that bean chéile darling, I can’t stand it when you look so scared.”

You started moving backwards slowly, stumbling, shaking your head at the one you once loved. How could he have done this? You had long lost the hope of this all being some kind of practical joke, the man’s unmoving bloody corpse made sure any thoughts of salvation had long vanished from your mind.

“…No... No…No! … please don’t…It’s a joke…you didn’t…Please tell me you didn’t….

“I did this out of love, I’m doing this out of love.” Nuada moved closer extending his hand to you, trying to calm you, but his words only served to frighten you more. He had just killed someone, you couldn’t stay here, he was unstable, and he wasn’t close enough to grab you yet, maybe you could run…There was still a chance of escape…Of freedom.

You turned on your heel and ran back the way you came; your heart was hammering in your ears and the sounds of your footsteps echoed along the sewers…but…those weren’t just your footsteps…Nuada. He was running after you and his footsteps were getting closer! Oh God how stupid you were, of course, he was faster.

Without warning, you felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around you and pull you towards a firm chest. The moment you’re caught, you let out a started cry of fear, however, this didn’t deter Nuada in any way.

He picked you up bridal style and starts walking back to his home in the sewer, all the while you thrash and cry, desperate to getaway. “Nuada please let me go, please! I won’t tell anyone I promise!”

Nuada took no heed of you until you had both returned to his home, whereupon arrival, he laid you down on a large nest of blankets and pillows. As soon as he sets you down, you immediately try to move away in desperation, but he doesn’t let you. “

“You have to stay here, where it's safe, it’ll be a little strange at first but just give it a little time, you’ll get used to it, I promise.”

You can’t stop the few tears that slip past your eyelids, but Nuada tenderly brushes them away.

“Nuada plea-” but he cuts you off by cupping your face, forcing you to look directly into his golden eyes. “My darling, please try to understand” His voice is soft now, a stark difference to his action’s moments ago. “You are a golden light of kindness in a sea of dark cruelty, and I must protect you, I’m the only thing keeping you safe from a filthy, disgusting world.”

You couldn’t turn your head away, so you simply closed your eyes, his words had a powerful effect on you. Nuada adored you, worshipped you as if you were the very being that hung the stars in the sky, but what you had scene had frightened you.

Nuada must have sensed your fear because he spoke again. “Darling, I wouldn’t have intervened if I didn’t think it was necessary. That man would have hurt you at some point, he was already becoming too comfortable with taking advantage of your politeness”.

That remark made you think. The man was constantly pushing boundaries, now that you thought about it, but you were always too kind to say anything, not wanting to make him feel embarrassed.

“You see my beloved? He might have hurt you or taken you away from me, and I couldn’t let that happen, no one else makes me feel as loved as you do, I can’t lose that!”

“So,” you begin, your voice shaky from the left-over adrenaline in your system, “you only want to protect me? You don’t want to hurt me?”

Nuada took his hands away from your face and clutched your hands, as he looked deep into your eyes. “No darling, I would never. I love you more than life”. His eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment before he leans forward and captures your lips with his.

You are mentally and physically exhausted from what happened, and this finally loving gesture is what breaks you, you can’t help but lean into Nuada, melting in his touch.

“Okay,” You say softly, “I understand…I still love you, and I won’t leave you”. At those words, Nuada almost weeps with relief and presses his forehead to yours, a loving gesture in itself.

“I just want to love and adore you every day for the rest of our lives” He whispers, “I just want to keep you safe from all harm”.

And you can’t help but believe him. Nuada has always protected you, always adored you, and he was right in believing that man was a threat, his advances could have easily escalated, and Nuada stopped that from happening.

He worshipped you like the Sun, and you gave him the warmth and light he so desperately needed, you were perfect as you were, and nothing could ever come between you.

#Yandere Prince Nuada x reader #nuada x reader #yandere x y/n