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2hightocare · 2 days

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DOWN BAD! 01

Synopsis: Despite undeniable chemistry, your guys’ relationship remains undefined, caught between playful teasing to deeper, unspoken longing,

Pairings: bad boy! jungkook x fem! reader

Genre: friends to lovers. college au.

Warnings: toxicity, jealousy, explicit content, angsty, smoking, usage of drugs and alcohol, fighting, profanity, slowburn, jungkook and oc are literally in love but do nothing about it, crying, hurtful words being thrown out when arguing, slapping.

a/n: IM BACK!! this is something super different than anything I have ever wrote sooooo… but i actually really love it. This would be a two-shot. Hope you enjoy🪽🪽 <3

pinterest board. 02!

"He pisses me off," you say while dropping onto the couch with a loud annoyed sigh, catching Taehyung's and Dahlia's attention.

"What did he do now?" Taehyung jokes, adjusting his tie on his uniform. "Look at another girl, that's what he did," you clench your teeth, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Your fingers play with the hem of your short navy squared skirt.

Your friends let out a collective laugh, making you scoff at them. "He asked a girl for a cigarette," you mumble under your breath, feeling the pang of jealousy hit your heart.

"Morning," a deep voice speaks from behind you, sending shivers down your body almost automatically. Your brows furrow as Jungkook makes his way beside you on the small couch in the lounge room after acknowledging his friends. His white button-up is opened, revealing a peak of his skin, which annoys you. He tugs on his navy tie, the same one as yours, undoing it and letting it hang loosely around his neck.

"Are you done being mad?" He tilts his head to the side, staring at you. His breath smells of the cigarette he had been smoking, the same one he accepted from a girl who had a crush on him, which irked you. You almost wanted to snatch the cigarette from his lips and stomp on it like a child when he lit it up.

"No, I'm not done being mad," you scoff, getting up from the couch in a swift motion. Jungkook lets out a frustrated sigh behind you before reaching for your skirt and pulling it down.

"Too short," he says, ignoring your whole tantrum.

You don’t reply. Instead, you smack his hand away from your ass before picking up your backpack and throwing it at him.

"Let’s go to class," you say, crossing your arms in front of you, making your boobs push up from the white button-up—you had intentionally left two buttons open after seeing him. His eyes immediately drop to your chest, and Jungkook pokes his cheek with his tongue on the inside before letting out a soft growl and reaching to button up your shirt.

"You’re insufferable," he lets out, fixing your shirt.

"You’re insufferable," you mock back, earning a grin from him.

"Are you ready to talk to me?" He bites his bottom lip, picking up your pink backpack and hanging it over his shoulder, something he was used to doing by now. "No, but the attitude is kinda hot, not gonna lie," you say, before making your way to your first period, with Jungkook trailing behind you like a puppy on a leash.

You and Jungkook weren’t dating, nor were you friends with benefits either. You were just friends with feelings bigger than Mount Everest. It all started on the first day of sophomore year of high school.

“No more fights, okay. First day only and you already got into a fight,” Namjoon blows out a sigh, running a hand down his face.

Jungkook scoffs, pulling on his tie. “This uniform is pissing me off.” He growls, ignoring Namjoon's attempt to coax him into a conversation about controlling his anger issues. Jungkook wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of it, especially today.

“Yeah, well, fancy private schools love their uniforms,” Namjoon jokes, but Jungkook's expression remains jaded.

“Anyways, you’re lucky you didn’t get suspended,” Namjoon continues, shooting Taehyung a look that screams for help.

“Lucky? I would’ve preferred if they expelled me,” Jungkook mumbles, leaning back on his chair, throwing his head back in annoyance.

Before Namjoon could mutter another response about self-sabotaging, a female voice catches Jungkook's interest. “I don’t give a fuck, she literally ripped my new tights,” you whine, your hair disheveled, the lipstick once on your lips now smeared, and your new black over-the-knee tights, ripped.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you could tackle her to the ground, Yn,” another girl says, nudging you, which makes you pout more. “My mom is going to kill me for getting into a fight on the first day.” You sit down in front of Jungkook, not even glancing his way, throwing your pink backpack on the ground beside you, keeping your eyes on the ground.

Jungkook takes notice of your appearance, and his heart rate skyrockets. You were beautiful, like an angel, but Jungkook knew better than to think you were innocent. The skirt was much shorter than it was supposed to be, your blouse more open than closed, which had Jungkook's eyes dropping to the tie between your tits, taking notice of the cross necklace hanging on your neck.

Angel with dirty wings. Jungkook thought to himself as he took you in, the smeared lipstick adding to your allure. Your full and pouty messy lips, had him imagining things only he imagined when he was in his room at night with his hand wrapped around his cock.

Instead, he's sitting at the front office with a pretty girl in front of him for the same reason he was. As he is thinking about far more inappropriate things than fighting. Before Jungkook could look away, your eyes met his.

“You’re new,” you grin at the bruised-up boy manspreading with a matching grin on his face in front of you.

“I am,” Jungkook replies, licking his bloody bottom lip with his tongue. Eyes still remain glued to yours as you nod. “I’ve never seen you around,” you state, tilting your head to the side, leaning forward.

“And I’m pretty sure I would remember someone that looked like you,” you continue, taking him in. The black blazer, with the school logo, he was supposed to be wearing was discarded on the chair beside him, leaving him in the white button-up, sleeves rolled up halfway, giving you a full view of the veins on his arms. His black hair was tousled on his head, the bloody lip made him hotter than you cared to admit.

“Is this a way of telling me you don’t have a boyfriend?” Jungkook flirts, ignoring his friends' obvious stares from beside him.

“Not yet,” you quirk, tapping your finger on your bare thigh. “What’s your name?” you ask, wanting to know more about the boy in front of you besides the fact that he gets into fights on the first day of school.

“Does it matter? You’ll be calling me “baby” by the end of the day,” Jungkook says aloof, which gets him a small smile from you. “Smooth,” you shrug, leaning backward.

"Angel," he says, his hands snaking around your waist, pulling you in.

"Hi," you smile at him, your eyes twinkling with unspoken affection.

"Hi," Jungkook responds, his dimple carving into his skin as he leans forward, his nose touching yours, nuzzling—a short, quick gesture that steals the air from your lungs. You almost feel yourself hanging onto these moments by a thread—moments where he isn’t high or drunk out of his mind or fighting with anyone who pisses him off in the slightest.

"Do you like my costume?" You flutter your eyelashes at him sarcastically, eliciting a small laugh as he throws his head back into the wall. "I don’t know, do I?" he says, his tone dipped in enticing sarcasm. His tattooed hand drops lower on your back, causing your breath to hitch in your mouth.

The music suddenly muffles out as you focus on Jungkook’s finger dipping into the waistband of your skirt. "You look pretty," he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Where’s your halo, baby?" he says, pulling on your perfectly curled hair, making you look up at him. "Lost it while I was dancing," you pout, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer to you.

You’ve never understood when people said, “home could be a person,” but you hundred percent get it now. It's almost embarrassing how quickly you melt into his embrace, your limbs relaxing—inhaling his scent. Your brain suddenly shuts down, not thinking about anything besides him, the moment he wraps his arms over your shoulders, dropping his lips on the crown of your head, leaving a soft kiss there.

"Don’t smile," you jut out, peeping your head up to see the small curved smile displayed on his face. "Why not?" he pokes, amusement clear in his face as his smile widens, deepening his dimples.

"Stop," you giggle, placing a small hand over his face.

"What?" he chuckles, getting a hold of your hand, giving your wrist a kiss before letting it hang beside you. "Your dimples are showing, and they’re only mine to see. Bitches love dimples," you say, only making him smile more.

Anyone else who saw Jungkook smiling all giddy at you would know better than to poke fun at him—but it was rare to see Jungkook smiling and laughing so casually out in the open. Behind closed doors, Jungkook was the epitome of a teddy bear; he loved head and back scratches and loved being a little spoon, all contrary to his dark clothes, cigarettes hanging from his mouth, and the heavy amount of alcohol he could consume.

"Be a good boyfriend and stop smiling, please," you quip, untangling from his embrace and looking around for Dahlia, only to be met with her making out with Taehyung on the countertop.

"I’m not your boyfriend, angel," Jungkook says beside you, putting a hand over your shoulders, taking a chug out of his beer.

"Oh yeah, my bad. I forgot. You’re my bitch," you turn to look at him, a mischievous smile on your face, which has him playfully rolling his eyes, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch before he took his arm off your shoulder, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cigarette.

"Let’s go outside," he holds out his hand, which you don’t think twice before intertwining yours with his. You feel giddy as you walk past the crowd holding his hand, as he leads you outside. You hated how many small moments like this had you wanting more from him, knowing this is the most he could ever give you. Jungkook had walls larger than the walls of China. You tried your hardest to stand up on your tiptoes and look. But whenever you got a sneak peek from what's inside, Jungkook built them right back up.

Ever since sophomore year of high school, you had the hugest crush on Jungkook, and you knew deep down he did too, but he never said anything all these years. It was embarrassing how you found yourself waiting for him—you couldn’t help it; your heart basically beat for him.

As you both reach a tall seat wall, before you know it, he's picking you up and placing you on the cold brick wall. Goosebumps appear on your bare thighs while he rubs his warm, calloused hands up and down.

"Cold," you whine, looking down at your angel costume—the white, flowy short skirt, your long white knee-high socks with the tall heels. And don’t forget your lace white top that kept getting tangled with your belly piercing. "I know ways to keep you warm," Jungkook waggles his eyebrows, moving closer to you. You feel his hands on your knees, opening your legs before he steps in between them. The closeness was something you were used to—the cheek kisses, the hand on your thigh, but never this. He was too close to your face—you could feel his warm breath whenever he would breathe. You felt your chest heave as everything you wanted was for him to put his lips on yours. Jungkook's face moved closer in.

You felt your heart stop in your chest almost abruptly. If it wasn't for his face millimeters away from yours, you would think you just had a heart attack.

Your eyelids fluttered closed, waiting for his lips to make contact with yours, but you're met with nothing. Then you feel the warmth of his hand on your thighs disappear, and the same with his body between your legs. You open your eyes to be met with Jungkook lighting up a joint instead of a cigarette. Before you could stop yourself, you pull it out of his mouth with a hard tug.

"What the fuck," Jungkook says, an unreadable expression on his face when he looks at you. "Are you fucking serious?" Your eyebrows furrow as you throw the rolled-up paper somewhere far—jumping down the wall. Your heels click on the pavement as you walk closer to him. The heels didn't do anything for you, as you still had to look up at him to meet his eyes.

"You said you’d stop," your voice cracks like your heart, as you push on his chest.

"It's just weed," Jungkook lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "That's what you said at first then you ended up in my room, high off oxy. So don't tell me it's just weed, Jungkook," you shove him, sending him tumbling backward.

The knock on your window sends your soul leaping out of your body. The sight of your favorite boy outside has your heart beating faster—it's past midnight, so seeing him there sends a different feeling down your body.

“Hi, what are you doing here?” You ask, opening the window to let him climb in. His eyes don’t meet yours as he walks in and sits on your bed, watching you close the window.

“Just wanted to see you,” Jungkook mumbles softly, his voice raspy.

“Well... hi,” you say as you drop beside him on your bed. “Hi,” he says, his eyes avoiding eye contact as he looks down at his twiddling fingers.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worry picking up as your hand moves to his cheek. His skin is hot under your palm as you move his face to look at you.

The moment his eyes lock with yours, you feel as if the ground disappears beneath you. Jungkook's eyes are unnervingly vacant, the pupils dilated into enlarged black circles.

“What did you take?” Your voice cracks, holding his face in your hands as he slumps into you. “Baby... don’t be mad,” he slurs, his eyes fluttering closed—your hand immediately goes to his heart, finding his heartbeat. This isn’t the first time this has happened; it’s a repeating cycle where he gets high, ends up at your house, and you hear every apology in the book, but it doesn’t mean anything since he’d do it again. The new thing is you don’t yell anymore; instead, you feel the tears start rolling down your face.

“Fuck. Don’t cry. Yell at me, be mad,” Jungkook slurs, trying to reach for you, only for his arm to drop beside him.

“I can’t...” you sob, “why do you do this?” Another sob racks through your body as you pull him into your chest in a hug. His body is limp in your arms.

“Baby... I’m so fucking sorry,” he groans into your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm down. “I love you,” he whispers, and you feel like you can’t breathe as another sob breaks out of you.

“Tell me when you’re sober,” you sniffle, knowing he wouldn’t remember in the morning, laying him down onto your bed and placing the pink covers over his shaking body. You know you’re just feeding into the cycle, but right now all you can do is cry. You prefer him in the safety of your room instead of outside on the streets. So instead, you wrap your arms around him and pray to god he’ll be okay.

“Why do you give a fuck about what I do?” Jungkook scoffs, “it’s none of your business,” he continues, but now it’s your turn to scoff.

“Right, it’s none of my business, asshole,” you throw out.

“You just don’t get it, do you? I’m not good for you,” Jungkook says, his tone much higher than he had anticipated. “I don’t give a fuck, I want you. Don’t you get that,” you frustratedly point your finger into his chest, almost annoyed that he still didn’t get it.

“You want this?” He motions between us, “us fighting all the time, because that’s all we do,” Jungkook scowls, the hard expression on his face has your heart shattering—you almost even hear the cracks as he continues to talk.

“I don’t need you being all up in my business; you’re not my mother,” Jungkook says, letting out a sigh of frustration—rubbing a hand over his face. “I care about you,” you say, looking at him, your voice betraying you as it cracks, again.

“Don’t,” he steps backwards, a shaky laugh escaping him as he avoids meeting your eyes. “Why?” You find yourself asking, making his head snap to look at you.

“Why what?” He asks, brows furrowed as he locks eyes with yours.

“Why did you lead me on then? If you don’t want me,” you ask, wrapping your hands over your waist, feeling vulnerable out in the open as you lay your heart in front of the man you were in love with. He had two choices, break it or carefully pick it up and lock it somewhere safe. You were praying he would pick option two—instead, he decided on the first option.

“What other reason would there be?” Jungkook says, his tone low, stepping closer to you, backing you into the brick wall. Your eyes move to his lips then back to his eyes.

“Maybe because you so easily would open your legs for me. All I have to do is ask,” he spits out. Before you know it, your hand is making contact with his cheek.

“Fuck you,” your teeth clench as you feel a tear stream down your face, “and this is why you shouldn’t want me,” Jungkook clicks his tongue before stepping away from you— a pained expression on his face.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Come back,” you hurriedly say as your eyes fill with tears, watching him walk away into the dark street.

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ktgoodmorning · 2 days

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See you care

Cata Coll x reader

You need to see Cata pull some weight in your relationship, an angsty one for a change :)

Masterlist

You pushed open the door to your shared apartment, absolutely exhausted from work and ready to start your weekend. A week ago you had been promoted which you couldn’t have been more excited about at the time, however, it ended up being a significantly more stressful position than you had expected. Nobody warned you of the amount of extra pressure that would be placed on your shoulders or the insane amount of overtime you had to complete just to keep up. All day you had been looking forward to coming home to relax with Cata and forget everything else.

Unfortunately, your hopes of a peaceful night in were immediately dashed when you walked inside and saw the huge pile of laundry on the floor in front of the washing machine, exactly where you had left it this morning. Cata knew how stressed you had been lately and insisted that she would do the laundry and clean up while you were at work. You were always good about taking over the household chores when she was traveling or busy with her job so you were relieved when she offered the same to you. However the further you entered, the more you realized that she had done none of the things she promised, somehow making things messier than they had been when you left this morning.

Setting your work bag down in the entryway, you took a deep breath in an attempt to keep your cool but to say you were pissed was an understatement.

All week she’d been making promises of all the things she’d do to help out while you were gone, finally having a lighter schedule than she typically did, but continued to put things off. When you left for work that morning, you hardly could find clean clothes to get you through the day, so she had insisted that she would get it all done today. And here it all sat in front of you, in a giant, intimidating, pile, that was about to push you past your breaking point.

“Catalina Coll!”

“In here!” She called from the other room to you, her cheerful and unassuming voice making you fume. How could she be so oblivious that you would be angry when she didn’t do anything she promised all week long. If nothing else, your use of her full name and tone of voice should have tipped her off that you weren’t happy with her.

You immediately clenched your fists when you walked in to find her laying on the couch playing fifa, greeting you with a smile, “Hola, bebita!” Your jaw tensed at the way she was so ignorant of the way her actions were affecting you, trying your absolute best not to explode and yell at her but also knowing you weren’t far from it. Your girlfriend knew exactly how hard you worked to take care of everything when she was busy so the fact that all week she claimed she would return the favor and still didn’t, had you seething. It was only made worse by how unaware she seemed to be.

“Cata,” your voice was low, trying to hold in all your anger. “What did you do while I was gone today?”

The anger in your voice didn’t seem to phase her, as she responded with just as much eagerness as she usually did, never pulling her eyes from the screen in front of her. “Well I had today off so I wanted to just relax and get some rest. I slept in, got lunch with Patri and Pina this afternoon, and then I’ve been here playing fifa ever since! I figured you might want to make dinner so I thought I’d wait just for you.”

You could feel your eye twitching. How could she be so unhelpful? It wasn’t fair for you to have to parent her to help out while she layed at home playing video games. And why on earth would she assume you’d want to make dinner when you’d been at work all day?Your silence caught her off guard, finally pulling her gaze from the game to look at you and notice the scowl that had been on your face from the moment you walked in the door. “Is something wrong? Rough day at work?”

You didn’t know it was possible to anger you further until those words left her mouth. It was over an hour after you were supposed to be home and she hadn’t texted or called once to make sure you were okay or to see if you were coming home soon. Your girlfriend should’ve been able to realize what time it was and that obviously it couldn’t have gone very well at work if you were there an extra hour on a Friday.

You completely snapped.

“Are you kidding me Cata! Look at what time it is! How could you possibly think I could have anything but a bad day if I’m home an hour later than normal. On a Friday no less!” She looked dumbfounded, shocked at your response, just looking at you with her mouth hanging open. Her reaction pissed you off further, making your face turn red, radiating anger.

“So yeah, Cata, I guess you could say I had a rough day,” you scoff at her, struggling to communicate everything you were thinking, continuing to yell at the woman in front of you. “And to top it off, I come home to my girlfriend who did nothing that she promised she would do all week! Do you realize I barely had clothes to wear today? I was counting on you, Cata! And you just sat her playing fucking video games!” You were now breathing heavily, looking at your girlfriend expectantly to see what she had to say for herself.

Instead of jumping up to fulfill her responsibilities or, I don’t know, apologize, she gave you a meaningless shrug, somehow still not grasping your frustration. “Babe, calm down. I was tired, I wanted to relax.” Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, she turned back to her fifa game which only made you yell louder.

“You were tired?! Do you realize how tired I’ve been!? Working overtime all week, coming home to make dinner every day, and getting nothing done around the house! That’s why you promised you would help out! Did you just forget that you’ve been promising all week that you’d do the laundry and make dinner and clean this fucking mess? And you’ve done none of it!”

The only response she gave you was a heavy sigh as she paused her game and looked up at you, still glaring at her with your arms crossed and face red. It was as if she was inconvenienced by you. Your anger was quickly turning to annoyance at her blatant disregard for you, turning your yelling into something much scarier to her, pushing your words through gritted teeth. “Cata, can you please just act like you fucking care about me? Just this once?”

These words appeared to ignite a fire in her that hadn’t been lit before, making her stand up to join you, now yelling face to face. “Are you really going to tell me that I don’t care about you?!”

“Well if you do, you sure as hell aren’t acting like it, making me do everything around here when you know I’ve been exhausted all week?”

“If you can’t see that I care about you, that’s your fault, not mine!”

“Do you seriously think that, Cata?” Your voice had suddenly lost some of its edge from the way her words cut into you. When you were met with silence, it only cut deeper, starting to hurt you more than it angered you. “We- I can’t do this. Sometimes I really need you, and you’re just not there. I needed you this week. I’ve tried so hard and I’m exhausted, I just want to know you care about me.” You were met with silence from her that you were too tired to try to decipher, leaving you to stomp off to your bedroom.

All you knew was you couldn’t be around your girlfriend at the moment and you couldn’t stand to spend another second in your disaster of an apartment, so you angrily changed from your work clothes into sweatpants and a t-shirt, throwing some essentials into a bag so you could leave. You grabbed only the bare minimum, wanting to escape as soon as you possibly could.

You only seemed to catch your girlfriend’s attention as you grabbed your car keys off the table and made your way to the door. “Where are you going? Are you really about to leave over this?”

“I’m going to my parents for the night. I can’t be around you right now if you still can’t see why I’m so upset, and I sure as hell can��t be in this disaster of an apartment.” You turned your back to her so you could open the door, shouting over your shoulder before you left, “If you figure your shit out, give me a call, you know where to find me.” And with that, you left, not planning on returning unless Cata figured out how to be an adult and contribute to your relationship.

Not planning on doing a part two, trying to get better at angsty stuff. Requests always open! Feedback always welcome!

Masterlist

#cata coll imagine #cata coll x reader #cata coll #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #woso imagines #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #espwnt #espwnt x reader #wosoreadingcata #wosoreading24/7

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esmedelacroix · 3 days

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All the ways you disappoint me.

pairing: boyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: The honeymoon phase confirmed it's existence for the second year of dating Miguel. Your love life went from flourishing to one-sided the day Miguel revealed to you that he was Spiderman.

cw: ooc miguel, very angsty, depressive behaviors, alcohol abuse

a/n: I have been on hiatus for a very long time. I've been in a very dark place this past month. I lost a very good friend of mine that I have known since middle school. Which really threw me off track. I have a bunch of works in progress coming out soon. I finally feel like I'm in a mentally okay spot to pick up writing again. This is lowk just word vomit but its something.

*not proofread*

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Disappointment. A feeling you you felt often. Maybe even too often. You were very familiar with disappointment. He only ever came around late at night. Disappointment would wrap his arms around you as if he wasn't the reason why there was a wet spot on your pillowcase almost every night.

All Miguel O'Hara ever does is disappoint you. "So why are you still with him?" your good friend Jess asked over hot morning tea.

"What am I supposed to do without him?" you questioned.

"That's not a very healthy mindset to have. You know that," Jess said putting a firm comforting hand over yours.

You look away for a moment. Eyes trailing out the window of the Spider Society Café that reeked of coffee and broken promises. Miguel O'Hara was married to the barista who would hand him five coffees minimum a day. He chose to marry the barista and work and not his own girlfriend of three years.

As you watched the birds create an arrow in the air flying north over the firey trees below. Part of you wished that you were a bird in this very moment flying away from the problems that devoured your brain from the inside. "You still with me?" Jess asked worriedly.

"Yeah," you sighed turning back to her.

"So you'll talk to Miguel tonight?" Jess commanded. She did that a lot. She would ask a question that sounded like an order which made you feel the need to obey. You simply nodded bringing your mug to your lips and sipping on your now-cold Earl Grey tea.

"Isn't it strange how quickly tea gets cold?" you thought out loud.

"Well that's kind of how tea works hon'," she answered.

. . .

You stopped waiting for Miguel to come home ages ago because you didn't think there was a point in it. Just like how you didn't see the point in trying to talk to him about putting effort into your relationship. In the same way you shouldn't have seen the point in staying with him after your last thousand arguments. You felt your eyelids get heavier with every passing hour you spent staring at the ceiling waiting to hear the door swing open.

Like you summoned him with your mind, you heard the door. The keys. The sigh. And the footsteps. Your heart began to race. Why am I nervous? You asked yourself. You stood up and walked out of your shared room.

Miguel's usual routine was to get home eat the food you prepared for him hours prior, shower, and go to bed. As you walked down the hallway leading to the kitchen, you stopped yourself before turning the corner. Inhale. Exhale. You stepped out into the kitchen and his head shot up immediately. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked. That’s new. An apology, from Miguel. You thought to yourself.

"No, no, I was having trouble sleeping," you answered in a quiet voice.

"Everything alright?" he questioned as he scraped the last bit of food on his plate into his mouth.

"Yeah, I've just been thinking," you started.

"About?" he asked urging you to continue.

"Miguel do you still love me?" you blurted out.

"Of course I do," he replied in a fraction of a second. He sounded almost hurt that you had even asked that question.

Moments like these make you forget the status of your relationship. Moments when Miguel would forget that he's supposed to be cold to you. The moments when he allowed himself to let his guard down around you. Those fleeting moments that should have never left your relationship. "Then why don't we spend any time together? I want to be around you Miguel, I don't care if we sit in silence at the most boring place on the planet. I just want to be in your presence," you admitted. He gave you that little hurt expression again.

"I—I've just been busy," he stuttered. Miguel would often do this thing where he would begin to say something and then cut himself off and choose to say something else.

"Miguel, you know you can tell me anything," you insisted.

"I just—can we please not do this right now?" he pleaded.

You gave him a frown. "Can we sleep it off? Talk about it in the morning?" he sighed rubbing his face.

"Will you even be here in the morning?" you ask under your breath.

"I'll see," he said putting a hand on your shoulder as he walked past you into the bathroom. He did it again. He cut off the conversation the moment it got hard for him. Why are we so complicated? You asked yourself as you lay your head on your moist pillow. Will there ever be a night where I don't cry because of him? A night where he doesn't confuse me with his actions?

. . .

That night as you lay in bed with his back faced away from him, you couldn't help but cry. You felt like you were drowning in your tears. Like they were holding you back. You tried to be as quiet as possible. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. You repeated to yourself.

The only happy thoughts you could think of were of Miguel. Or the Miguel you used to know. The person he used to be before he started using his job as an excuse to neglect you.

Just then when your breathing slowed and you calmed down a bit with tears still streaming down your face. He wrapped his arms around you. He cuddled you from behind. He did that often. When he thought you were asleep. It was almost as if different versions of himself occupied his brain. You liked the one that took the spotlight at night.

The one that would cuddle you. Nuzzle his nose into your hair. The one that would rub your back and. Apologize. To. You.

. . .

Apology fell asleep last night and disappointment woke up at the ass crack of dawn because there was another Spider-verse that needed saving.

You woke up later that morning to the usual chilling feeling of Miguel not being there. You got up stretching your arms as you walked to your kitchen. You made yourself a cup of tea and an omelette, and ate alone, in silence. Thinking. About him. Again.

For the second time this week as if you called for him with your heart, you heard the balcony door slide open and a masked man swing in. He took his mask off and shook his head adjusting his hair. "Good morning," you said with a stupid smile on your face. Why? You couldn't tell. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually here in the morning like he said he would be.

"Good morning. You’re in a good mood," he chuckled.

"Well you're here," you smiled.

Miguel gave you a look. You weren't sure how to feel about it. But it wasn't a bad look. It was nice. Kind of sweet. He prepared a pot of black coffee and talked about his morning in Peni Parker's universe catching a difficult anomaly. For a moment, you could feel little fireflies set off in your stomach seeing him talk about something he was passionate about.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked as he took a seat next to you.

"Just about us and our recent slump, I guess?" you started.

"I'm listening," he hummed as he sipped his coffee.

"I want to spend more time with you Miguel. I want to not argue with you about how much time you spend at work. I want to know what's on your mind. I want to know how you really are and not just how you say you are," you admit. Miguel stayed quiet for a while in thought.

"I don't know what to say to that," he said; his voice cracking a bit.

"You don't have to say anything just—let me be your shelter, please?" you suggested.

. . .

That night Miguel didn't come home. He didn't come in the middle of the night. He didn't come to eat either. He didn't come to wrap his arms around you. And he didn't come to apologize to you.

. . .

I don't like it when my friends tell me I have a drinking problem. How could it possibly be a problem if it makes me feel better about all the things that rack my brain? Being vulnerable is much easier said than done. Especially, with the girl I love. Of course, I want to tell her things. I want to tell her everything. I want her to know me as well as she knows her hometown. As well as she knows her childhood cat. And as well as she knows how to navigate Pinterest.

But I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'll cry and she'll think I'm weak. I'm afraid she'll think I'm unworthy. I know she would never think those things about me. But how could anyone think anything differently if I think that way about myself?

That's why I turn to the friend that won't let me down ever. Endless Modelos. Because I'm so weak that I can't even open up tp my girlfriend. Every time I feel like I am finally ready to tell her what I'm going through, I stop myself because I am afraid.

. . .

To your great surprise, Miguel wasn't there in the morning. Or the next, or even the one after that. By the third you hadn't seen him it was beginning to stress you out. You wondered if he was safe. If he was even still alive. You decided to go to the Spider Society.

After talking with Jess for a while and babysitting Mayday for a bit. You were finally free to go see Miguel in his office. You opened the door and called out to him but the only thing you heard from him was a sniff. Then two. Followed by a third.

"Miguel are you up there?" you asked as you climbed the stairs to his his platform.

"No?" he said in a shaky voice.

"Is everything okay?" you asked. You saw your answer in the form of 10 too many emptied beer bottles on his desk and on the ground.

You rushed towards him discarding your purse on the ground. He brought his hands to his face and he hid. From you. Your heart sank to the lowest pit in your stomach it could reach. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulders and crouched down next to him. "Miguel, talk to me, please?" you whispered.

Nothing.

. . .

The worst way Miguel could ever disappoint you happened. You had imagined it happening in so many other ways but not like that. You never thought of him as the type of man to give up on something so good.

For the last time in your relationship, Miguel O'Hara disappointed you when he told you he wanted to break up.

. . .

to be continued?

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lustylita · 2 days

Text

After it all happened.

Angst/ Open ending.

Idea is by me, but with the help of the amazing @nyx-umbrakinesis 's beautiful writing skills, I present this angsty idea!

Go give her love omg!

_______________________________________________

The extermination had ended... time had passed and the devastation left behind had been mended... mostly, the hotel had been rebuilt, Sir Pentious had been mourned and memorialised, and you... you found yourself actually beginning to be able to process what had happened.

The trauma still fresh, but day by day it's symptoms becoming more manageable. It was in this more awakened state... (as you focused more on the problems of the others around you rather than your own,) you noticed one glaringly out of sorts issue – Alastor.

He was behaving like everything was fine, like the battle had never occurred, like everyone around him hadn’t suffered either – something was off... Was it denial? You could tell something wasn’t right, his trademark smile was slightly strained, his face looking more contorted and uncomfortable than usual, and his posture constantly stiff, as though ready to fight (or flee) at a moments notice, on top of all of that he spent so much more time cooped up in his radio tower, you barely saw him as he whiled away hours upon hours away from the company others, behind the locked door of his safe space for it to be a coincidence.

You simmer on this information, and agonise for a few weeks, observing just to make sure you weren’t imagining things – even though highly unlikely – you also waited to see if he would open up to anyone, share why he’s been acting like Quasimodo in his bell tower.

However, to absolutely no-ones surprise, he did in fact not do that, (even though everyone was in the same boat, all of you suffering some form of injury or trauma).

So, with a determined air, and confident gait, you ventured up to his radio broadcast station. Footsteps echoing slightly on the wooden floorboards as you ascend the stairs, breathing labouring, legs aching from the ascent.

You knew Alastor didn’t like anyone intruding upon the sanctity of his precious room, and wouldn’t appreciate this gesture of goodwill, preferring to interact with others in the common areas when he was free, but given his new proclivity for hiding away he hadn’t really given you any other choice, since he’s never present in the public areas of the hotel anymore.

Arriving at the heavy door, teetering back and forth on your heels and toes nervously for a moment, you take a deep breath, steeling your nerves.

You reach up with a sure hand and knock loudly on his door and wait. You heard rustling of scattered papers and the clang of something sturdy being knocked over in haste, and fumbling as he clearly tried to correct the error.

In this it became evident to you that your suspicions were correct, he was indeed hiding, or withholding, something of significance, you blinked several times snapping out of your thoughts when the door squeaked as it swifly opened.

“Ah, hello little one! To what do I owe this visit!” Alastor says with an exaggerated flair, his smile tensed, and his eye twitched looking more manic than you’ve seen from your observation of him this whole week.

Before you could get any words out however, he continued as though filled with effervescent bubbles, really overemphasising every movement and word, his smile looked like a wide crack in a porcelain plate, “Do come in, my dear, my broadcast won’t begin for another hour, I have plenty of time for a special guest,” He guided you inside, a hand ghosting on the small of your back, almost forcefully,

“Come on, in, in,” his voice sounded unnerving.

You took this as the opportune moment to confront him, so after taking another nervous breath and taking note of a bead of sweat travelling down his forehead.

“Alastor, I know you don’t like divulging your feelings, and that’s all well and good... But I do feel like opening up could be cathartic for you... To put it bluntly, ever since the extermination you’ve been acting strange – more so than usual. Alastor everyone’s beginning to notice, it’s getting more and more obvious with every day that goes by. You’re withdrawn, you don’t torment Husk nearly as much as you used to, even Charlie and Niffty can’t get your attention, and you literally set Vaggie on fire last week,” You nervously twirled the ring on your index finger around and around (a nervous tick) as you watched his whole body freeze.

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re insinuating, my dear.” his voice sounding strained as he dismissed your theories.

Just as you’d predicted. However his nonchalant attitude about the situation was anything but, with the way he looked at you with a rigid grin, and stiff posture all but confirmed everything.

And you knew... you knew, that if you pushed slightly, put pressure on the raw emotion you would get at least some form of an answer. So without any self preservation.

“Alastor please.” Sounding exhausted, “You know I’m not ignorant, I thought it would be better if I came to you first about this, or would you rather it were Charlie who came to see you in this state? I think this solution to be the lesser of two evils, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your brow raised as you tried to rationalise with him, in contrast his brow began to furrow in irritation, his ears even pulled back, and you could swear you almost heard a growl, “I would prefer if all of you left me well enough alone. If I wanted assistance, I would ask. Quite the probing busybodies you lot are, leave me be.”

He stalked over to his desk, his boots making a dull thud, almost stomping, before huffing and taking a seat in his chair heavily, all while still regarding you intimidatingly with displeased narrowed crimson eyes, his grin still unchanged.

With an agitated huff of your own, you slowly approach Alastor again, “Us? Busybodies? Says the man who relishes every opportunity to intrude into people’s personal space, get in peoples faces for the sheer entertainment of it all. God forbid the people who have spent months with you getting to know you, enjoying your company actually care about you Alastor!”

Angrily pacing before him, your hands gesturing wildly in your temper, “so why don’t you please just enlighten me on what’s wrong, at least then I can stop Charlie from coming up here and dealing with you in this state, and then maybe I can let you go back to whatever it is you’re doing in here all day everyday, become a hermit for all I care, just tell me and then I can leave, I want to actually enjoy my afternoon.”

You knew goading him was risky, but he really knew how to push your buttons, having now paused before his chair again leaving but a few inches between you as you puff like an angered wildebeest.

You observe him, his expression darkened, but as he looked up at you, you saw it again, the same facade, cracking him again, making your heart lurch, he laughed at you condescendingly.

Rolling his eyes, Alastor looks back to you coldly, “Absolutely, nothing is wrong with me.” His voice becoming more scratchy as the radio effect worsens, suddenly he’s towering over you.

Hoping intimidation would be enough to deter you he continues, patronising you, “I’m not a weak little demon like you dear, I don’t need someone to hold my hand, or help take me for a walk, or talk about my feelings in a nice little share circle.” His grin became dangerous.

“I’m an overlord, one of the most feared in all of hell, I am quite capable of dealing with my own issues, not that I have any. I don’t need you or anyone else in this tacky hotel to think you could possibly make any impact on me when you’re all just such pathetic little failures, I can’t believe you of all demons think that I care, well allow me to disabuse you of this notion. I don’t and never will, and if yo-“

Alastor watches with manic glee as your eyes quickly harden with rage and your shoulders begin to twitch bunching up with unbridled rage, as you react faster than you can think, your arm coiling back, with full intention of giving a well deserved slap to the contentious lanky shit, however, before your hand could move barely an inch, Alastor fast as lightning grabs your wrist.

Now also enraged at your impudence, Alastor menacingly backs you up, until you find yourself pressed against the red cold glass window overlooking the exterior of the hotel, his grip on your wrist bruising and tinged with pain, as he leans down towards your ear. Uttering in a low angry growl, his breath tickling your ear.

“Would you care to try that again, dear?”

#hazbinhotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #oc #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #agnst

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junggunz · 2 days

Text

beside you ft. jay jo | 🔞

summary: Sneaking around with Jay is one of your favorite ways to pass time. cw: fembodied!reader, smut, lowkey angsty, established relationship, infidelity, homewrecker behavior, fwb!Jay, oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, all characters featured are 18+ wc: 3k an: i lowkey botched this request lol my badddd might redo it when i dont feel like writing smut so jay's mom can actually walk in on him and reader making out lol. buttt i was SUPER inspired by keshi (specifically beside you duh and just friends) since i associate his music with jay for some reason.

It’s mostly peaceful when things are like this. Being with Jay alone, not having to deal with the loud chatter of your other friends. And most importantly, not having to be face to face with Shelly when you’ve been fucking her boyfriend on a weekly basis–on some weeks, seeing him on the daily.

The silence in Jay’s bedroom is calming until you start thinking too much about the circumstances. You don’t know why you settle for this kind of relationship with him. You’ve laid with him intimately, seen him in his most primal and vulnerable states, got peeks into his mental framework during pillowtalk– but it wasn’t enough to cross the threshold of “being just friends.”

But when he’s calling you in the middle of the night after a long study session to invite you over, are you really just friends? When he’s fucking you from behind with a hand clamped over your mouth so your moans don’t wake up the rest of his family, can you actually be “just friends?”

Never has Jay invited you over for the sake of just talking and hanging out. It’s always as a means of stress relief, taking out all his frustration into your hole when he can’t find joy in his favorite hobby. Even today– when he invites you over in the late afternoon when the sun is gradually setting, filling his room in a warm orange glow rather than waiting until the cover of twilight.

“What took you so long to get here?” Jay mumbles between placing kisses on your neck once he gets you to his room, hands roaming your body like he had already forgotten what you felt like beneath his palms.

“Traffic. Everyone’s getting off work at this hour.” You reply softly, letting your head fall back to give him more access to the stretch of skin his lips occupied.

Walking you backwards until your knees hit his bed frame, Jay ushers you onto the bed without pulling away from you. Lips sealing yours, there’s no time for you to voice any complaints about how fast he moves.

His tongue coaxes your lips into parting for him, meeting yours and sliding up against it in the most salacious of dances. Tongue slithering past your parted lips, it moves in tandem with yours once they meet; lewdly rubbing up against each other until you have saliva spilling past the corners of your mouth.

So caught up in the heat of the heated lip lock, you barely even realize that you’ve started grinding against the growing bulge in Jay’s pants. The friction is nowhere near enough but it’s addictive, you can’t stop. His hands grabbing onto your hips in an attempt to still you isn’t enough to get you to stop squirming, seeking out a means of extinguishing the heat that had been steadily building in your core the moment he kissed you.

“If you want me, say you want me.” Jay gently chides you, the words dancing across your lips.

Funny, you’ve said something along the same lines to him in the past when discussing the nature of your relationship. But there’s no time to dwell on the blurred boundaries of your so-called friendship when your mind is clouded with lust, only interested in getting down to the real reason you were in his bed in the first place.

“I didn’t know you liked reassurance.” You taunt him with a small scoff.

Your fingers find the hem of the loose fitting t-shirt he wears, tugging at it and silently demanding it come off. You crave the feeling of Jay’s skin on yours because it’s the most warmth and comfort you’ll ever receive from him. Reaching for the back of his shirt’s neckline, the fabric comes off with minimal effort. Giving you no time to ogle at the lean muscle of his frame, Jay makes quick work of your top; eager hands palming your breasts through your bra.

It’s moments like these where you finally get some sort of reassurance that Jay feels something toward you—even if it’s just lust— and every touch is filled with so much longing, so much passion. The desire is almost enough to make you believe that he sincerely wanted you in more than just a physical way. His hands reach under your back, your body arching to make it easier for him to remove your bra before you toss the wired fabric off to the side.

Jay’s lips are on yours again, this time each tender kiss serves as a distraction for him to strip you out of the rest of your clothes. As soon as you’re completely nude, his mouth no longer occupies yours and ghosts along your jaw; going down your neck to nip the skin hard enough to make you wince but not leave a mark. From your neck to your chest, his lips trail lower and lower until you see him comfortably settled between your thighs.

Hooking his arms around each of your thighs, he pulls you closer to him; your hips coming off the mattress and your center perfectly aligned with his lips. It’s always the same song and dance with Jay– and he’s seen you naked on so many occasions– but you never stop feeling shy whenever he goes down on you. The fluttery kisses on your inner thigh. The focused expression that shrouds his features. The way his hips buck into the mattress to get some relief from the pressure building in his pants. It all makes your heart tremble with excitement, much like the way the first swipe of his tongue on your pussy makes your legs tremble.

Treading softly on your body, Jay savors the time spent between your legs. His tongue traces out the letters of an apology to you, hoping that you could decipher the message because God knows that he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words to you. Stringing you along like this was never his intention, but the fact you stay gives him no real urgency to break things off. How good he feels while lying with you is more than enough to cast away any guilt he feels about keeping two different people on each of his arms to fulfill different needs. Seeing how his initially one-sided relationship with Shelly was able to bloom into a connection that helped him grow as a person, maybe if circumstances had been slightly different, your relationship with him would’ve developed the same way.

But instead, you’re confined to a timeline where Shelly is the one to speak to Jay’s heart and you’re the one who can only communicate with him via body language.

For all of the emotional nurturing and comfort that Jay can’t provide to you as a person, his warm tongue is more than happy to deliver it to your pussy. Languid strokes that lap at your folds that lead to your clit; leaving no part of you untouched. As good as it feels for you, the thick stripes licked over your folds are a mere warm up for Jay. He starts out so slow and lazy with his mouth, the actions only fanning the flames of your arousal rather than dousing them. It’s only when he gets you to the point of dripping all over his sheets and feeling like your cunt had its own pulse, he amps up the actions.

Swollen pearl throbbing with need, you start to fuss and your fingers seek out Jay’s hair; pulling on the inky locks to get him to keep going. Though he wants to poke fun at your desperation, he moves where you need him, encasing your clit between his pouty lips and sucking with an intensity that he knows you can’t resist. He knows he’s done it right when you start bucking against his face and cause your juices to smear all over the lower half.

Jay spends nearly an hour eating you out; caught in a loop of licking up all the nectar that seeped out of you while also causing you to leak out more. He gets you so close to climax, only to retreat and leave bite marks on your inner thigh; the tiny jolt of pain sending your senses in a frenzy.

“Why are you being such an asshole today?” You groan, your voice coming out weary and shaky. “Let me cum.”

“Last time I saw you, you said something about not spending enough time together.” Jay says after pulling away from you, tongue poking out to run over his lips and clear them of any of your lingering juices.

“You’re too smart to pretend that you don’t know what I meant.” You respond in an almost dejected tone before it seems like something snaps in you and you’re put back into a state of indifference. “Whatever, just fuck me.”

Maybe if he was in a different state of mind, Jay would have tried harder to think about what your words truly meant. However, when he’s been ignoring his own arousal for the sake of pleasing you for so long, he isn’t very receptive to your evasive response.

Nimble fingers undoing the drawstring of his joggers and shimmying out them, his boxers come off as well and are haphazardly kicked off. His cock springs free, long and hard and already leaking pre-cum. It’s not often that you see Jay like this– looming over you, hands on either side of your head as he holds himself above you with the tip of his cock dragging along your folds. He slides his cock back and forth over your slick cunt instead of rushing to put it in; his precum dribbling down and making everything messier. Looking up at him through your lashes while his eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock sliding across your slickness, you remember why you rarely took him in missionary.

Jay was breathtakingly handsome whenever he was fully engrossed in something– fucking you was no different. Just looking at him while he humps against your pussy, his dick catching on your clit every so often has your neglected hole clenching in anticipation of being filled. When the underside of his shaft is thoroughly coated in your arousal and your clit is sensitive to direct contact, no matter how light the touch is, Jay finally guides his cock into you.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He hisses lowly, a shuddering breath escaping him while he watches your tight hole greedily sucking in the rest of his length after breaching your entrance. “So…fucking…wet.” He pants, head falling forward slightly as he squeezes his eyes shut; the sight of his shaft disappearing within the heat of your cunt becomes too stimulating to handle. Your walls stretch to accommodate his dick as he buries it inch by inch.

Pushing his hips forward until his full balls are pressed against the curve of your ass, you and Jay moan in unison as he bottoms out within you. No amount of sex with Jay could fix the hole in your heart that he had left, but being full of his thick cock like this almost makes the heartache worth it.

You rarely see eye to eye with Jay on matters pertaining to emotions. However, it goes without saying that both of you wish you time would stop whenever he was balls deep in your juicy cunt. After getting over the initial bliss of being inside you, Jay slams his cock in deep; making your breath get caught in your throat from the force. The little choked out noise you make causes his eyes to flit to your face, concerned that he had hurt you but as soon as he does that, he regrets it. Pleasure is written all over your face and it has his cock throbbing inside of you, encouraging him to keep pumping his dick into your heat. And soon, he’s fucking into deep spot in your pussy that has your eyes rolling back and grabbing onto his biceps for any means of keeping you grounded.

“Oooh, fuck. Right there, don’t stop.” You plead, your voice sounding foreign to you as it comes out whiny and prurient.

You know he won’t stop. His hips are still into yours like a dog in heat, focused on his own ecstasy that merely happens to be elevating yours. He was giving you these brutal strokes filled with so much greed, your high is within reach. It’s embarrassing how sensitive you are after being edged for so long. Any and every instance of physical contact has you moaning, but it’s the hard and urgent manner that Jay pumps his dick into you that makes you cry out the loudest; as well as making your wet cunt lewdly squelch.

“You’re getting too loud.” He scolds you, meanly grinding into you and teasing your sweet spot with each snap of his hips.

“No one’s even home.” You whine as you let Jay fold you in half, pushing your thighs back as far as they’ll go so your knees are lined up with your shoulders.

“Don’t get into the habit of being this noisy.” He grunts, pressing you in half and slinging your legs over his shoulders.

For all the noise you can’t make while in this new position, it has your pussy clenching around him and of course, the excessive tightness has him fucking you harder to counteract your walls trying to keep him in place. Those deep, deep strokes hit you in all the right ways.

Leaning further down, keeping your body pinned under his weight, he presses his mouth to yours. His lips are soft, the taste of you lingering on them. For how erratically Jay’s hips move as they pummel into you, he manages to keep his kisses relatively tame; his tongue is precise and intentional with every move against yours. The feverish moans and pants that you eat up let you know how good he’s feeling. How much he craves this release. It’s just one of the few things you have in common with one another.

“I’m really fucking close.” Jay whispers against your lips, fucking you with all the pent up frustration he stored up while eating you out. “Are you?”

He speaks those words so quietly, they barely pull you out of the lust induced trance you’ve been under. The heat that’s been blossoming in the pit of your stomach was starting to spread throughout the rest of your body, making you forget how excruciating it was to be in this folded position.

“Y-yeah.” You weakly mumble, biting your lip.

That’s all Jay needs to hear before giving you these calculated thrusts right into your sweet spot; repeatedly hitting the bundle of nerves. Pink cheeks, jaw tense, eyelashes fluttering – they all make up the feverish look on his face. He’s impossibly close to finish, gritting his teeth as he keeps ramming his dick into the spot within you that makes your toes curl. He keeps at it, trying so hard not to cum before you so he can feel your walls milk him for all its worth when he reaches his peak.

With the repeated stimulation of your sweet spot, it doesn’t take much to get you right on the edge. Deep, deep strokes hit you perfectly and just in– one, two, three sharp thrusts– you’re hurtling to your orgasm.

You have to bite Jay’s shoulder to stop yourself from moaning so loudly as your pussy clenches around him, an obscene amount of your juices trickling down his shaft when you cum. Not too far behind you, Jay brutalizes your sensitive, quivering walls until he shoots his load deep into you. The warmth rushing your insides makes you shudder, but it’s nothing compared to the dull ache you feel when he pulls out of your still spasming cunt.

There’s no time to lay around together after such an intense finish; his mom would be home soon and you both knew that. Immediately after cleaning up, Jay sees you out; but the air is thick as the two of you linger at the front door step.

“Why are you just staring at me like that?” You ask after an uncomfortable stretch of silence, not wanting to leave on such a strange note.

“I…don’t want to say ‘bye’ yet.” He murmurs, sheepishly rubbing at the nape of his neck.

There’s a first for everything, it seems. Up until this point, Jay hadn’t been too keen on being alone with you for too long. Or at least, he had behaved that way. Getting into his mind and deciphering his emotions had never been your strong suit– if it was, you’d probably be dating him and not just hooking up.

“But you don’t wanna just hang out with me, right?” You retort with a bitter laugh before turning away from him. “I’ll see you later.”

You don’t make it very far before Jay catches your wrist, pulling you back toward him. A few more seconds of silence ensue while he stares at you. Though it’s not clear what’s on his mind, it’s obvious to you that he wants to say something. His lips quiver, mouthing the beginnings of sentences but nothing ever comes out as you impatiently wait for him to speak. The moment you open your mouth to berate him and tell him to get on with it, his hands are cupping your face then he’s leaning in down to press his lips on yours; eating up all the words you were planning on hurling at him.

Time just moves differently whenever you’re with Jay. For you, it always feels like it’s not enough. And from his perspective, it swings too wildly between seeming like an eternity and being an ephemeral moment. Despite not knowing the exact number of minutes that pass when he’s kissing you, it’s long enough for his mother of all people to spot the two of you locking lips.

When you part, she’s nowhere to be seen, leaving you and Jay clueless that someone had seen you two together. After Jay gets his kiss, he seems content with finally letting you go– so you do without hesitation. You leave him to wrestle with his own moral compass and feelings he can’t share with anyone else but you; if he had ever found it in him to be more candid about his emotions.

Until then, you would simply stand beside him as his friend in public; picking apart his shortcomings until being “just friends” became more appealing than being his lover. But while in private, the hedonist in you would enjoy the way he arranged your guts.

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker smut #jay jo smut #jay jo x reader #jay jo scenarios #junggunz.txt

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jeyusos-girl · 2 days

Text

a/n: yall someone tell this man to release me from the spell he’s cast on me 😭😭😭

don’t know where this came from but here it it

i feel like i may make another version of this without the angst bc it wasn’t supposed to be angsty to begin with 💀💀💀

word count: 832

❤️💔❤️

“What do you want?” Y/N whispered, stretching her limbs over her king-sized bed, loving the way the silk sheets felt over her smooth skin.

There was a beat of silence before the man at the end of the bed spoke up.

“You.”

A smirk painted itself on her glossy lips. She pulled herself up, leaning back on her bent elbows.

“Which part of me?” she teased, biting her lip. She stared into his dark eyes, feeling a chill creep up her spine. She hated that he had that effect on her.

Her teasing did nothing to crack the stoic look on his face.

“All of you.”

She fell back on the bed as his strong hands traveled up her legs, gripping and massaging her calves. Her skin broke out in goosebumps. She did little to stop the satisfied moans from escaping her lips.

She ignored the alarm bells ringing in her head when his hands inched towards her thick thighs.

“Why are you holding back from me?” he asked gruffly.

She heard him, but she didn't speak. Too deep in a euphoric daze brought on by the feeling of his big hands roaming her thighs.

She was shaken out of that daze when a sharp slap cracked across her left thigh. A soft gasp fell from her lips as he pulled her to the end of the bed. They were now face to face, his stoic expression replaced with one Y/N couldn't decipher.

“Why are you holding back from me?” he repeated, growing more frustrated.

“You're married,” Y/N stated matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes, standing up straight. He ran a hand over his full beard, not making eye contact.

“We’re getting a divorce,”

“I've heard that one before,” it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“I’m serious, I’m meeting with my attorney next week,”

The room went silent for a moment before Y/N spoke up.

“You're still legally married,”

He let out a frustrated sigh.

“My marriage has been over for a while regardless of what the law says you know that,”

“Okay but-”

“Why are we still talking about this,” he interrupted her.

“I don't sleep with married men,”

He smirked at that. Of course he did.

“Well then, how do you explain what happened three years ago?” he wove his fingers through her hair tugging harshly so she couldn't look away from his fiery gaze.

She swallowed harshly as she felt herself shrinking internally.

“That was a mistake, you know that,” she whispered.

“Really? Four days of making love all over Hawaii was a mistake to you? Be honest with yourself.”

“I am honest with myself but you can't say the same can you?” Y/N snapped.

“You knew marrying her was a mistake, I told you you'd regret it. That's why you'd come crawling back to me every time you and her argued, that's why you flew me to Hawaii after she said she was done with you for the millionth time and that's why you showed up on my doorstep unannounced after almost 2 years of not speaking to me because you finally have the balls to do what you should've done a long time ago.”

He slowly loosened his grip on her hair as he saw her eyes well up with tears.

Y/N was a tough girl, but Tama had always been her weakness.

“And I was stupid enough to let you in again,”

“Baby,” Tama tried to wipe away the tears that escaped her eyes.

“No Tama, I can’t do this again, you're just going to leave me like you always do.”

She stood up from the bed, pushing him away in the process.

He watched as she sat at her vanity, silently wiping away the tears that kept coming.

“You're right,” he murmured.

She looked at him through the mirror as he paced the room.

“You’re right, I do regret marrying her, I regret not choosing you every time I think of what my life has become,” he paused as Y/N turned to face him.

He moved closer and kneeled before her.

“I hate that I put you through this for all these years, I would give anything to go back in time and change this situation. I love you, and I will never stop trying to make it up to you.”

“I don't know, I don't think I can handle another heartbreak Tama,” Y/N mumbled with her face in her hands.

“You won't have to baby. Just let me make it up to you,”

He moved her hands from her face and cupped her cheeks in his hands.

She didn't pull away, instead, she leaned into his touch as his thumbs caressed the soft skin.

“Okay, one last chance. That's it,”

He nodded, searching her eyes before testing his luck and leaning in slowly.

Y/N met him halfway, and their lips met in a sweet yet timid kiss.

‘hopefully he stays true to his word’

#tama tonga #tama tonga x reader #tama tonga imagines #tama tonga imagine #wwe imagines #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #the bloodline imagines #the bloodline x reader #the bloodline imagine

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oldfashioned-lovergirl · 3 days

Text

my boy only breaks his favourite toys — lewis hamilton x nico rosberg (full work)

chapter 4 - unforgettable

cw: mentions of mental disorders, dirty talk, smut

summary: when lewis and nico ended they relationship and when some years later realize it never actually ended

note: finally a less angsty chapter lol. I will probably keep this going but I won’t update as often. I have other contents upcoming from the requests tho

Nico came to his house some days later to give him his hat back. They had sex. That was the last time and they knew it.

Some months later they fought again over a race. In his driver’s room Nico even took him from the Mercedes overalls and angrily pushed him against the wall. They ended up kissing, but this time it was Lewis who put an end to it. “No, not this time. No more mind games, Nico. It’s over.” And he left.

He was convinced Nico was trying to mess with his head with all that push and pull, that purposely hitting him and then saying sorry, making him forgiving everything, and then again being ruthless on the race track. That was the last straw.

Lewis was remembering those final words as they were said yesterday, laying on the bed the night after the conversation with Nico. He was so angry. Why telling him all that right now? Now that Nico had a wife and daughters, now that they didn’t talk for years after he left the team, now that he thought he had finally moved on. He began to think he never actually did, because he never dealt with his feelings after the break up. He couldn’t lie to himself, he wished that kiss would’ve last longer. He wished Nico would’ve stayed longer. Now he couldn’t get his pretty face out of his head. That wasn’t news of course, he had often dreamt about him, but now that they kissed in real life, after a period that seemed short and endless at the same time, it was definitely something else. The thought of having him again was tormenting him, preventing him to fall asleep. Not even music could help: every song reminded him of him. That damn german couldn’t really keep himself away from him, couldn’t he?

The day after he felt so tired he couldn’t even do his morning exercises. He felt like shit. Anger turned into pain and longing for a different life. A life were him and Nico were still together, as friends, as teammates, as husbands. He tried to rest in the morning and after lunch he went out for a run anyway. He prayed not meet Nico somewhere along the way and fortunately it didn’t happen. When he came back he was exhausted. He went to the building’s lodge to collect the mail. He noticed a letter that didn’t look familiar at all. Lewis never received letters. The adressee was undoubtedly him, but when he opened it to discover who the sender was, he found Nico Rosberg’s name written on the inside.

“This must be a mistake.” Lewis turned to the doorman. “Maybe I should put it back in Mr and Mrs Rosberg’s mailbox.”

“It’s no mistake, Sir Lewis.” Replied the doorman. “And by the way, they’re not married anymore.”

Lewis was taken aback. “What?” He realized he had sounded too emotional. “I mean… I didn’t know.”

“They divorced some months ago. I thought it was public knowledge.”

Maybe Lewis would have know it if he hadn’t blocked Nico and Nico’s name in every social media platform. Why didn’t Sebastian tell him?

“Right, it probably is. I should open more newspapers.” He gave the doorman a little smile and went up to his apartment with the letter in his hand. That was a big information to handle.

Lewis read the letter sitting on the couch. He straightaway recognized the handwriting.

I’m sorry for yesterday. I think I have some more explanation to do. Meet me in the building spa at 9 if you want. Please don’t be angry.

Lewis knew Nico liked to leave hand written notes. He also knew he liked going to the spa to relieve the stress. Lewis was sick of explanations and sick of playing games. Still he had the feeling he would go anyway.

Nico thought he was imagining it when he saw Lewis in the jacuzzi room. Of course he knew were to find him. That was such an intimate place, it helped him meditate. He usually booked it for an evening and went to relax alone.

He watched him close the stone door. “Hi.” Nico said, trying to shorten the tensed distance hovering in the room. He got no answer.

Lewis approached him in the bathtub and entered the hot water, sitting in the furthest point of the small rounded pool. He was only wearing bermuda swim shorts and Nico couldn’t help but let his eyes wander on his godly physique. He realized that was the first time in years he saw his half naked body that close. He blushed a little when Lewis noticed. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought I scared you away. I’m sorry for–“

“Stop apologizing. I initiated the kiss.”

Nico lowered his gaze. There was a moment of silence until Lewis broke it. “Why didn’t you tell me you divorced?”

Nico didn’t expect the question. “I– I don’t know, I thought you knew.” Didn’t he listen to the news?

“I didn’t.”

“Well,” Nico didn’t know what to say. “Now you know. It was a mutual decision, we thought it was for the girls’ best to stay in good terms.”

“That means I’m the replacement.”

“No, no, that’s not– that’s not like that at all. If anything…” It was the opposite, he wanted to say, but he had the feeling it was unnecessary, Lewis understood.

“We really fucked up our friendship, right?”

Nico nodded. “It was mostly my fault. I became a horrible person. All those mind games I used to get the title… I don’t think I wasn’t mentally okay at the time. That’s not an excuse, anyway.”

“I know, and I forgot you when you needed me because all I was thinking about was winning over you. I didn’t care about anything else. We swore we would have both become World Champions. You know… all these years I had the time to realize we were best friends until I was the one who came first and everyone knew I was the best. But when you proved everybody wrong, I couldn’t take it. And then there was Vivian. And then you left Formula 1. Why did you left our dream? Why did you left me?”

Nico couldn’t look at him in the eyes. “I– you can understand it wasn’t easy. I accomplished what I wanted, and it was so draining. I couldn’t take it anymore, I wasn’t okay. Physically and psychologically. It didn’t help I lost everything had with you. There was no reason for me to stay.”

It was unbelievable: after eight years they were finally talking it out. Eight years. It seemed to be so much time yet Nico was in love just as when they were teens.

Nico took a deep breath. Now they were both grown out of their mistakes, their bad habits and their flaws. At least of most of them.

Lewis made a step closer. “I won’t lie, I thought about you a lot since I saw you in the paddock. I mean, more than usual.”

Nico finally looked at him. The dim lights made Lewis’ dark tatted skin glow in different colors in rotation: purple, green, blue, orange, red. He kept himself from blushing again. “I did too.”

Lewis came even closer, forcing him against the tub wall.

“What are your intentions?” Asked Nico.

Lewis was thinking exactly “hearing again those moans of yours that sound so much like a needy kitten and hearing you say ‘right there’ and ‘yes just like that’ as you used to do”, but those were too many words, so he simply put his hands on Nico’s thighs and made him sit in his lap. Nico’s breath was taken away. There was no distance separating their bodies anymore. That was a big step from interviewing him by standing 20 feet apart.

Nico put one hand on his neck and pulled him in a kiss. A passionate kiss. No more anger, no more regret, no more desperation, just a simple exchanging of everlasting love and desire.

His hands finally travelled eagerly on the Brit’s chest, his thumbs brushing his sensitive nipples. Lewis let out a soft little moan, letting his hands slide on Nico’s hips and pulling him in return.

“I think we should–“ go upstairs, that’s what Nico was trying to say, hardly breathing because of Lewis’ move.

“My place?” Asked Lewis, between one kiss and another. Nico nodded.

They stepped out of the tub and dried each other with a towel, trying to ignore the growing hardness in their pants. They raced to be first to the lift, laughing and bumping into each other, then kissed all the way through Lewis’ apartment. That night they had the best sex of their lives.

Lewis woke up the next morning having the feeling it was way too late. He turned on the phone on the bedside table to look at the clock with eyes still sleepy. 10:12. It was definitely too late. He put the arm back under the sheets when the memories of the night before flooded. Nico. Oh, what a sweet night it was. And hot. He remembered it very hot too. They must have fallen asleep late because he never woke up past 8. He turned around expecting to see Nico but there was no trace of him. He began to worry. There, he got screwed one more time. He had let him play with his feelings again and now he was alone. Lewis was beginning to feel angry again when he heard noises coming from the kitchen. He stood up and walked in the other room. Roscoe, barely awake as well, followed him.

Nico was there, cooking breakfast in boxers and t-shirt. Lewis thought he was dreaming, but then the blond man turned and saw him. “Damn, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Lewis gazed at him in awe. “I thought–“

“What?” Nico smiled gently. “I could never leave you. Not anymore. You make me happy.”

Lewis couldn’t help but returning the smile.

“Besides, who would leave a seven times World Champion? It would be crazy.”

Lewis got closer and wrapped him in a hug from behind, smelling his scent. Roscoe wagged his tail next to them. “Come back to bed.”

“The breakfast will get cold.”

“Please.”

Nico sighed. “If you’re asking like that.”

#brocedes #lewis hamilton x nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #f1 #formula 1 #fic #fanfic #smut

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iwillpunchyouinthenose · 2 years

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Finn, Rey and Poe have separation anxiety with each other

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murdrdocs · 6 months

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BUT YOU'RE NOT MINE. miguel o'hara

description. if you're not his to have, why do you look like the one he has loved? why do you spread your legs and whine and moan for him?

includes. DARK CONTENT 18+, DUBCON & CNC ELEMENTS (it's complicated fr), SMUT 18+, slightly angsty but mostly filfthy smut, fem!reader, massive size kink, dacryphilia, p n v, oral (fem receiving), animalistic miguel (fangs and claws included), possessive miguel, reader is a variant of miguel's late wife, reader's miguel is dead, slight dumbification, power play, cervix kissing, brief mention of paralyzing reader unwillingly, told from miguel's pov (still 2nd person), creampies, like 3 spanish pet names (author does not speak spanish)

wc: 5.5k+

fanart creds to @shuploc

→ kinktober masterlist

He stalks his prey from the window.

The house looks the same. There’s not much dust anywhere, there’s still four seats at the kitchen table and the still slightly cluttered island, the couches are the same worn in set. He can’t tell what the floorboards are like from outside, but he figures that there’s still the scratches from young Gabriella, or the times he dragged his luggage across the living room instead of picking it up like you wanted him too.

He wonders if the kitchen has the one mixed matched knob on the furthest left cabinet like his house does. He remembers the time he underestimated his anger fueled strength, leading to the custom made knob being ripped off the wood. He remembers how upset you were for a second, mourning the loss, and then the flare of lust in your eyes as you looked at him.

You look the same.

A little thinner, clothing a little more muted than before, but you’re still you.

Even though he knows you’re not the woman he married.

And he’s not the Miguel you married.

But you’re still his wife.

He notices you wear your wedding ring, the band accompanying it, and he notices you’re wearing the necklace he got you for your first anniversary. So much is the same that he finds it hard to believe he’s in a different universe. He’s finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t supposed to be here.

But the confusion on your face when you open the door quickly reminds him.

It takes a while for you to calm down from the hysterics. He makes you your favorite tea, marveling, because this is the same, too. He rubs your back when you start to inch more towards him than away. He coos in your ear lovingly, calling you the sweet pet names that you always responded to.

And when your cheeks are dried just enough, Miguel’s lips are on yours.

He meant to lead more up to it. He didn’t even think he came here for this. But you smell like you and you look like you and you feel like you and Miguel just couldn’t take it anymore.

You stall in the kiss, freezing against him, but Miguel continues. He knows you love him. He knows you’re as eager to see him as he is to see you. And he knows you want him as much as he wants you.

You kiss him tentatively at first, and Miguel slows to let you set the pace. He follows your lead, gently connecting his lips with yours, a hand rising to cup your cheek. He slides his palm towards your head to stick his fingers tips in your roots, digits separating around your ear. It’s shocking almost, how his hand envelopes your entire cheek; fingers spread close to your eye all the way down to your jaw.

And it’s with this –– and your hands going to his shoulders –– that Miguel realizes just how much bigger than you he is. He almost dwarfs you in comparison, having both stature and structure over you.

The thought makes him animalistic.

He groans into the kiss, his other hand cupping your other cheek, and he can’t take it slow much longer. He kisses you aggressively, noses smashing together before he tilts his head, and even then his nose digs into your cheek.

You hum, slightly apprehensively, and Miguel feels your eyebrows furrow. Your hands lay over his, and he thinks you’re going to push him away. He prepares himself.

But you don’t.

You keep kissing him, movements still slow so you don’t move in time like you should.

But Miguel’s forgiving.

He takes one of his hands away to slide it down your back, rough palm rubbing against the worn in fabric of your crewneck. It fits you a little big, Miguel remembers from when he came in, and he wonders if it’s his. The him from here, smaller due to the lack of necessity to go out in a Spiderman suit.

The envy that he feels makes him aggressive. This time he growls.

Miguel fists the back of your shirt, using his grip to pull you impossibly closer, and it’s with this movement that you pull back.

He chases your lips, and you let him kiss you once, twice, and Miguel goes for a third time until your lips pull from his with a smack.

“Miguel …” you say, voice uneasy, a little shy. Not like his wife but he remembers that you’re not his wife.

He’s instantly apologizing, fear rising in his chest. “I’m sorry. Am I too much?”

Your smile is soft and comforting. Miguel quickly feels at ease and he suddenly wants to cry. Just the effect you’ve always had on him.

“No. You’re never too much for me. I’ll always want you. Always.”

And that’s the same too. His eyes soften for a second, widening as his eyebrows lift. He searches your gaze for the look, the one that tells him you want this, that this is where you want the night to go. Because he doesn’t know if that’s what you mean.

But you smile gently, you nod, you bite down onto your bottom lip, and Miguel knows.

His body engulfs yours.

You lay there, small in structure, but also in nature, too. You look shy, timid, intimidated by the large man above you. Which does nothing but hardens the prominent length between Miguel’s legs.

He likes that he has this above you. He likes that your safety, your pleasure, your comfort, all relies on him.

Most of all, he likes how your legs spread for him, even though your mouth says something different.

“Miguel, I don’t think we should do this. You’re not my husband, you—“

“I’m not?” He dips down, teeth nipping at your neck. It’s just his front ones this time. He licks the spot, kisses it. “Am I not your husband?”

Your head shakes and your hands go to his shoulders.

“N … No. You’re not my Miguel. You’re not the father of my child.”

Miguel hisses and his chest flares with anger. He didn’t need the reminder, not at a moment like this. He fists the sheets beside your head to calm himself, but when he nips you this time, it’s with his sharp canines. It’s not strong enough to pierce your skin, maybe not even strong enough to sting.

You suck in a sharp breath anyway, realizing you did something wrong, and you’re quick to apologize, leaving Miguel to shut it down.

“Don’t apologize, cariño. Just be good for me, yeah? Let me feel you.”

His free hand slides down between your legs, forcibly cupping your mound, pushing the heel of his palm into the area where your clit resides. You hiss, your back arching, but your hands push at Miguel’s shoulders.

“Mig, this isn’t right, this isn’t—“ but he’s cutting you off, tired of hearing your excuses.

His lips kiss at the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks, his mind racing with how soft your skin is, and how thin the layers truly are. If he wanted to, he could easily sink his fangs into you, claiming you forever.

He considers the thought as he chooses to gently press his lips into your skin instead.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Missed you so much, beautiful. I need you.” Your sounds are soft, little breaths, almost mewls whenever Miguel sucks harder in a spot.

It’s all music to his ears. It does nothing but fuels his desires more and more. He wants you louder, he wants you to whine and cry for him.

And Miguel has always been determined. He’ll do anything to reach his goal.

His middle and ring fingers separate from the rest on your mound to press between your lips, the pinky and pointer fingers spreading them so his middle fingers can settle between.

Your mouth falls open.

Miguel can tell when he hears the clearly audible breaths you let out that sound a lot more like panting than breathing.

“You still make those pretty little noises, too, yeah?” He pulls his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you head on, brown eyes searching yours. If he’s reading you right, he’s noticing it all. There’s shock, some guilt, maybe a tiny bit of fear, but Miguel can clearly see the arousal in them.

He can’t help but smirk, smug and overconfident as he tilts his head. “I wanna hear everything, okay? I need to hear how good I make you feel.”

He leans down, forehead pressing against yours, and you’re so warm, nearly sweating even though Miguel has done absolutely nothing to bring you true pleasure. Your eyes close while his stay open, and Miguel takes a second to admire just how gorgeous you are.

He takes in all of the similarities; from your eyebrows, to your eyelashes, to your nose, to your lips. But it’s beside your lip that he notices something not right. You have a scar, deep enough to be visible, clearly healed, but it’s there. His eyebrows furrow, he gets possessive, he gets angry, because you weren’t protected. You’d gotten hurt, and he knows that if he were here, the Miguel above you not the other one, this wouldn’t have happened.

So when Miguel presses his lips to yours, it’s soft at first. Gentle for a few moments as he tries to communicate the fact that this Miguel, while he might not be your husband or the father of Gabriella, is willing to be your protector all the same.

He wants to be more gentle with this entire ordeal, but you start to kiss him back and he loses it again. He starts to devour you, face a little scrunched as he pushes his lips against yours, moving with a pressure and pace that overwhelms you.

Your smaller hands fist at the fabric of his shirt, bunching the material up at his shoulders, pushing at them but Miguel barely even moves. Miguel understands that your reaction comes from the way he’s attacking your lips, but the more illogical part of his brain reasons that you want his shirt gone, so he pulls back long enough to yank the fabric over his head with one hand.

It’s thrown off and into one of the clean corners of your bedroom, Miguel’s eyes quickly taking in just how clean the room is. He notices the lack of anything belonging to him, save for an old pair of sneakers that sit in the vicinity of his shirt.

Sadness overtakes him for a second, but then he hears your soft “wow” and he turns back to you. Your eyes are tracing his exposed body, taking in his physique. Your hands reach out, hovering over his biceps before they rest fully upon them. It’s amusing to Miguel, the way you squeeze the area and your eyes widen more.

Your heart starts to beat faster, Miguel can hear it in the silence of the bedroom, and when your eyes look at his again, he sees a bit of fear in them.

He tries not to have a positive reaction to the emotion, but he can’t help it. He’s entertained, thinking of how you’re finally realizing that Miguel is bigger than you. So much bigger. He can do whatever he wants at this moment, and you have to take it.

He doesn’t know if you’re aware, but you fucking whimper. You sound like a terrified pet, facing danger inescapable to them.

Miguel reaches his free hand out, cupping your cheek just as his occupied hand starts to rub up and down your slit. Your lips part, your eyebrows push together, and Miguel smiles.

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say it.”

You know the code word, Miguel made sure of it before you reached the bedroom because he would never hurt you. Not if he could control it.

You just stare at him. Not saying anything. And Miguel subtly feels your hips shift to push further down, more into his touch.

He takes it as his go ahead.

He sits back on his haunches, all six feet and nine inches of him, his chest rising and falling with shallowly taken breaths as he eyes you beneath him.

Stripped of your shirt and shorts, wearing nothing but a clearly loved bra and a pair of printed cotton panties. There’s no manufactured bow in the center of them, and Miguel briefly wonders if you still have those. He thinks back to how you’d always pull them out for date nights, or nights where Gabriella wouldn’t be home, and when he’d comment on them, hinting that you were surely expecting something, you said nothing, gently smiled, and turned towards the bathroom.

Miguel doesn’t realize it, but he’s gotten lost just staring at this single garment. Your wiggling hips breaks him out of the trance and he slips his thick fingers beneath the elastic waistband of your panties and he starts to pull them down your legs.

The movement is awkward, a product of your refusal to work with him. Your legs are spread too far, you won’t close them enough to let Miguel slide your panties down, it fucking frustrates him. He’s holding back a growl, his lips clamped shut in a thin line so he doesn’t snarl.

“Baby, just close your legs a little, let me–” but his words are cut off as Miguel grips one side of your underwear with both hands, and then the fabric is broken into two.

A sharp gasp from you and your legs clamp shut. But Miguel’s not having any of that. His hands, palms rough against your soft skin, grips your knees, muscles barely flexing as he easily pulls your legs apart.

He briefly wonders if the lack of resistance comes from your own personal will, or if he’s just that much stronger than you. Either thought has Miguel feeling a little dizzy, his blinks slowing as your opened legs reveal a slickened cunt.

Pretty, glistening with your juices, evidence of how much your body wants him. He starts to salivate a little, his enhanced nose picking up on the aromatic scent coming from you.

Miguel barely realizes that it’s happening, but suddenly he’s leveled with your cunt and his breath is fanning against the most sensitive parts of you.

You jump, moving a little further up the bed and away from him, your escape futile when large hands drape over the tops of your thighs, pulling you back to him and pushing you down into the mattress simultaneously.

Miguel’s sure that the sound that escapes from your mouth would’ve been a whimper if he hadn’t decided that now was the time to lick a long stripe from the lowest point of your cunt, to the clit.

It’s slow, a little torturous on his end, but it’s worth it with the reaction you give him.

Mouth dropping, eyes widening as your eyebrows attempt to meet in the middle, your hands fisting the sheets, your hips trying to pull away from him and get closer at the same time.

How reactive you are does nothing but excite Miguel.

He launches forward, head burying in your essence, his nostrils flaring as he takes deep inhales. He gets lightheaded for a second, the dizziness coming back, but he reminds himself to breathe when his nose bumps against your clit and he hears you take a deep inhale.

What follows is Miguel O’hara behaving in a way that can barely be akin to a man, more akin to a beast, as he tries his best to devour you. The sounds are sinful; Miguel’s saliva combining with your wetness, his tongue uncoordinated as it plunges into your walls and comes back out to slurp the surrounding area.

This isn’t his best work, and he wants to correct his technique to bring you more pleasure, but he can’t get enough. He’s like a man starved, attempting to consume a meal as if someone’s waiting to take it away from him.

Briefly, he’s reminded that someone could take this all away. He can’t stay for long, or else your universe could collapse. He shouldn’t be here in the first place. But his greed, the very thing he’s displaying now, brought him here, completely on selfish desires.

Guilt attempts to cloak his being, but you whine and Miguel’s right back in it.

He lifts his mouth to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucks, once, twice, flattens his tongue to swirl the bud around, and then he bares his teeth, turns his head to the left, and his right fang gently connects with the sensitive nerve ending.

A little gasp comes from you. “Fuck,” you whisper, and Miguel wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing.

It’s a positive reaction, he figures, so he does it again. And again. And one more time before he has two fingers plunging into your walls, inching further in even as you heave.

“Not used to this, are you? Your little fingers haven’t been cutting it. Need something bigger to fill you up.”

Miguel lifts himself again, arm going to rest beside your head, body hovering over yours once more.

You don’t say anything, but Miguel’s fine with that. The pads of his fingers are deep inside of you, they’re massaging your walls, curled and reaching for the spot that Miguel still hasn’t forgotten. He finds it after a little too long, and you try to stifle the sound by biting onto your bottom lip, but Miguel can see the pleasure.

It shows in your wide, pleading eyes. In your raised eyebrows. In your flared nostrils.

He smirks, proud of himself, and pays special attention there.

“That’s it. There it is. ‘S all the same.”

He kisses your cheek and his fingers slowly pull out, only to thrust back in, finding the area of that spot over and over again. It has you mewling, your legs spread, your body clearly enjoying it even though you pretend the opposite.

“Mig, Miguel, please, I … I’m, it’s all…” You’re saying so much but so little. Little jumbles of words that preface something that never comes. He can’t tell if you’re begging him to keep going or to stop. He doesn’t know if he could stop even if he wanted to.

Not with the way you’re so obviously close.

One of your hands fling to wrap around Miguel’s wrist, and he fucking laughs when he sees that your pointer finger and thumb is miles apart, on opposites sides of his wrist.

“Don’t know how you’re gonna take this cock, baby. So fucking tiny beneath me. ‘M gonna split you open.” The words are whispered in your ear, meant as a warning, maybe even a promise, but it feels borderline threatening coming through his bared teeth.

Your head turns away from him, your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re practically intelligible when you say, “‘M close.”

It’s like Miguel’s been presented with a goal that could alter everything. He needs to make you come, this time being the first of many tonight.

He has a thirst that can only be satisfied by feeling your walls squeeze and flutter around his fingers.

He kisses your temple, his fingers speed up, and he’s encouraging you.

Not even a few moments later Miguel’s fingers are constricted. His hand lifts with your hips, his ears drink in the sounds you let out; little moans and huffs of air that you’re clearly trying to keep hidden. Which Miguel is fine with for now, because he knows in due time you’ll be screaming around his cock, not even aware of the sounds that you make as you reside in complete ecstasy.

You’re barely calmed down, the occasional twitch still in your legs, before you’re looking over at him.

He stands off to the side of the bed now, eyes on you as his thumbs dig into the elastic of his gray sweatpants. He tugs them down, watching your eyes trail down his body. He exhales, abs flexing with the breath, and your eyes get just a little wider.

But when his sweats are on the floor, and he’s stepped out of them, your eyes are low, lidded not just from the directional change, trained on the way his cock is straining against the stretchy fabric of his briefs.

He steps closer, hand cupping your cheek, head dipped as he looks at you.

“Would you like to do the honors?” A phrase he’s uttered frequently to you in this setting. Usually a wicked smile, and eager hands is your response.

Now, you tilt your head, assumingly letting the words translate in your head, and Miguel realizes that it’s really been a while since you’ve had your Miguel.

When you understand, your hand reaches out to his boxers, but then it stops midway.

Miguel nods. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

Then your nails scratch at his lower abdomen, beginning to stick under the elastic.

“There you go.” His eyes turn down, watching his crotch, watching your hand disappear beneath the fabric. They flutter shut when you wrap your hand around him.

The first touch is always the best for Miguel. He shudders, the feeling translating to a shaky breath.

He wants to keep his eyes closed, basking in the feeling of you starting to timidly stroke him, but he feels eyes on him, and there’s nothing Miguel loves more than your eyes.

So he looks down at you, he watches you as your hand trails to the tip of his cock, thumb smearing the precum along the circumference to give you better slip.

Your hand glides up and down the expanse of Miguel’s cock, feeling him up, working him slowly.

It feels nice. But it’s not nearly enough.

Miguel takes the liberty to pull his briefs down his hips, the garment meeting the same fate as his pants.

Your hand is still around him, but your grip falters just a bit when his cock springs free.

Miguel watches your eyes size him up, taking in the sheer length and girth of him.

He can already predict what you’re going to say before you go.

“Miguel. It’s not gonna fit.”

The fear returns to you. It shines in your eyes, flares in your chest, scrapes up your limbs and leaves goosebumps in its trail.

His head shakes. “It’ll fit, amor. I’ll make sure it fits.”

He wants the words to soothe you. He hopes the words will soothe you.

But as he situates himself between your legs, as he arranges your legs to lay over his, as he starts to line himself up, you look even more fearful.

You’re clenched tight, it’s showing in your entire body, so Miguel rubs his thumbs along your hips, and he gives you what he thinks is a comforting look. He hasn’t been able to contort his features into that look for a while now, and he’s sure that he’s out of practice, but it works.

Your eyes set on his face, they roam over his features, then they lock onto his eyes like meeting a target.

There’s an unspoken agreement for him to proceed.

So he does.

You’re tight. Miguel knew you would be, but it’s still slightly unexpected. He can’t help but hiss as the head starts to breach. You’re tight.

“Baby. Let me in. Breathe.”

You try to do so, but it’s like no matter how many calming breaths you take, you get tighter as Miguel continues to push.

It gets to the point where Miguel has no choice but to keep going, hoping that his attempt at soothing words work as he buries himself to the hilt. Miraculously, it’s only then that you relax, the feeling of loosening alerting Miguel of the change.

He looks at your expression, satisfied to see your features slack, starting to morph into pleasure once more.

He starts to move, slow drags out and even slower pushes back in.

They’re intended to allow you room to adjust, to cease your whines and provide you comfort, in an alarmingly discomforting situation. Miguel thinks it’s working. You go mostly silent, he wrenches his eyes closed in pleasure, but they peel back open whenever he hears sniffles.

It’s impossible for him to continue holding back when you look at him all pretty like this. Tears streaming down the sides of your face, pooling in your hair, salty liquid sticking your eyelashes together as you blink pathetically up at him.

Something tugs at him, telling him to give it his all.

So he does. He takes what he wants.

He takes what he deserves.

His snapping into yours with a force that sends you up the bed each time. He refuses to let you off the hook like this, hands gripping your hips, your soft and supple skin pinched between calloused fingers. You whine, crying out desperately as you push at Miguel’s hands.

He doesn’t let up, believing that this is the only way to keep you close to him. Even if it hurts.

He gives you some reprieve, however, taking away one of his hands to slide up the back of your thigh. He hooks your limb over his hip, encouraging you to dig your heel into the dimples at his lower back. It’s something the you that belongs to him would’ve done, and there’s a split second of fear in his chest as he anxiously waits for you to do it now.

Whenever you do, the heel of your foot pressing into the skin right above his ass, he snarls. It’s unfiltered, an accident, but it’s real and raw.

His claws come out and they swipe at your skin accidentally. A gasp from you, then a wince, alerts Miguel of the mishap, and his heart stops. His hips stop. He’s hurt you. He’s done the thing he swore he never would.

You look at the bleeding cut, then at him, and Miguel doesn’t see hurt in your face. Instead, you pull him closer, arching your back, pushing your hips into his and grinding as best as you can against him.

You go from stoic and pliant to untamed, your own nails digging into his forearms, your hips lifting off of the bed in what should be an unattractive motion.

Yet there’s nothing that you could do that could be unattractive in Miguel’s eyes.

He’s sworn to love you forever, despite the Universal difference.

He licks his lips, and with the motion he feels his fangs. Sharp, pointy, ready to plunge into whatever flesh he can reach. He once again considers it for a second, sinking his teeth into your thigh and rendering your limbs useless. Keeping you stuck to the bed for him to use and abuse however he’d like.

But you’ve been behaving so well tonight. So he finds no need.

Miguel angles his hips differently and you whimper, the sound sweet and small and soft from you. It resembles a “hng”, tailoring off into a gasp towards the end that has Miguel grunting in response.

“Acting like you’ve never been fucked like this before.” His voice is rough, lacking any romanticism in the tone. He could barely care less.

“Maybe you haven’t. Has no man taken you like this? This sweet, supple body, left unused for this long. You know that’s not your purpose. You’re wasting your potential, honey. This is what you’re made for.” He punctuates his statement with a piercing thrust, hitting a spot that makes you gasp sharply.

“Made to give men like me pleasure. Not many can take what I can give, but you can, right?” You nod eagerly, seemingly attempting to prove your agreement by taking a deep breath and relaxing your cunt around Miguel enough for him to slide just a little deeper.

He smirks, hand reaching to your tit where he strokes your nipple with his thumb. “Such a good girl. Probably make a good little housewife too. Maybe I'll stick around. We could do this more often. Get this tight little body to take me 24/7 until it’s second nature. I can feel her struggling around me. Pussy’s too tight. Hasn’t had a big cock to fill it in a while. But that’s alright, we can train her. She’ll be as good as new in no time, yeah?”

It seems he’s fucked you too good, beyond any verbal or nonverbal responses from you. Instead, you’re a mess of whines and groans. Your mouth hangs open, drool pooling at the corner just before it fills over and slides down your chin. It doesn’t bother you, or you have more important things to focus on, because you let it glide down until it sits in your clavicle.

Miguel’s ego inflates as he watches you fall apart like this. Earlier tonight you were the picture of perfection; a neat outfit, a neat home, your emotions and responses polished. But you shed all of that for him. Because of him.

In his mind, there’s no greater honor.

Especially whenever he slides his hand down to your clit, flicks your bud one, two, three, times, and then your back arches as your orgasm travels through your body.

He sees it start in your loins first. Your pelvis rocks against his ferociously, and then it stops, twitching every so often as your orgasm travels to your limbs then. Your legs lifting, hovering on either side of Miguel and twitching sporadically as he continues to fuck you despite your feeble hands pushing at his shoulders.

He’s bigger than you, stronger than you, smarter than you, and he knows what’s best. He knows your body better than you do. He knows you can handle another.

He knows you need another.

So he continues.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, presses his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, and starts fucking you to a second round of completion.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your body tensing as you brace yourself through the pain. But Miguel tuts.

“None of that, baby. Look at me. Look at who’s making you feel this way.” It takes you a second. You huff, your eyebrows push together.

Miguel rolls his eyes. He lifts one hand, taps your cheek with enough force to have your eyes snap open, and then he grips your face. “I said: Look at me.”

You do as told now, fear flashing through your eyes, and Miguel grins. He likes the power. He likes this feeling.

“There you go. That’s it.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Now give me another. Just one more, my love.”

He’s so deep within you, your arousal leaking out around him, giving him access to the uncharted parts of you by virtue of providing absolutely no resistance. There’s possibly the easiest slip and slide happening between the two of you, Miguel’s cock entering and exiting your cunt rapidly, shallow thrusts that reach mere inches away from your cervix each time.

Each drive into you prompts a sound, a gasp or moan or just a force of air from your diaphragm. They spur Miguel on, the vigilante adjusting your leg over his shoulder just a little, his chest almost parallel to yours as he forces himself deeper and fucks you harder.

“C’mon, baby. When you’re ready, just let go for me.”

He’s close at this point, too, but he absolutely refuses to cum without you clenching around him.

His wish comes true just a few thrusts later. This orgasm builds longer, your walls starting to flutter a few moments before your moans crescendo.

“There we go. There we––” His words are cut off short as his orgasm pushes through his body. His balls twitch, his hips stutter, and he’s shooting warm ropes into your fluttering cunt. He can feel his claws come out and pierce the fabric of your mattress, but he doesn’t think about how he’ll replace it yet. Instead he focuses on this feeling.

The euphoria taking over every fiber of his being as his hips automatically piston into you a couple of times as your cunt greedily milks him. It’s not until he has none left that he pulls out of you, his cock steadily softening, creating a sensitivity that has Miguel wincing.

You’re silent except for a few breaths and Miguel mirrors your state.

You both lay there, staring at the ceiling, and Miguel looks over at you after what could be anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes.

You’re already looking at him, smiling softly. He smiles, too, his features getting softer whenever your hand raises and cups his cheek. He places his hand over yours, body relaxing when he feels your wedding ring.

“I’m glad you came back to me,” you say, voice earnest and honest.

Miguel pulls you into his chest.

#🕸️ 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐑 #migueltobr!#miguel o'hara x reader #miguelsworld!#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099

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buckyalpine · 9 months

Text

Pick Me

Bucky x reader

The new recruit has her eyes set of a certain set of super soldiers. Especially your super soldier.

warnings: jealously, Angsty bangsty, but also so fluffy fluffy and smutty, clueless Bucky, he really means no harm, go easy on him.

A/n - editing to add: when I first started writing this I loved the concept and wrote a large chunk but then I left it for months cause I struggled to actually finish writing it. This wasn’t even the original ending I had planned but I just wanted to finish it so yes Bucky should’ve done way more, pretend there was a time jump where he does a better job with earning forgiveness 🥲

“Everyone, meet Nicole, our newest recruit for the field agent training program” Tony walked into the common room where you were sprawled out on the couch with Nat, Sam and Wanda while a young woman walking confidently behind him. “She’s going to be staying with us for a couple of months to train before she goes onto the the field” Tony turned back to her, bringing her to his side.

“I’m sure you know everyone but let me introduce you to them anyway. This is the very Natasha, Wanda, Sam and y/n”

“Hey Nicole” You gave her a warm smile, happy to welcome her while everyone else also got up to greet her. “Nice to meet you”

“Oh, ew, just call me Nic! I don’t really go by Nicole” She scrunched her face at the sound of her full name, her eyes scanning the room, clearly looking for someone. “Don’t suppose the very Captain America and Sergeant Barnes are here?”

The hopeful uptick in her voice made it clear that’s who she’d been searching for. Right on cue, the two super soldiers walked into the living room on their way to the kitchen after a morning run.

“Speak of the devils and I do mean devils” Tony snorted beckoning the men to meet the new recruit. “Rogers, Barnes, this is Nicole, preferably Nic”

“Hello handsome” She gave Bucky a bashful smile before turning to Steve and batting her lashes, “and handsome”

“Nice to meet you” Steve reddened at the way she gripped onto his hand before slinking over to the brunette, purposely sticking out her left hand so he’d shake with his metal one. “And you Sergeant”

Bucky gave her a smile and quick shake, excusing himself to get some water while Steve quickly trailed behind him. Tony went on to take her to her room which was on the same floor as yours, all the other spare rooms occupied by a few others who had already started training. Nicole returned to the living room moments later with sweats and a hoodie, her hair tied up, plopping down onto the sofa beside Sam.

“Hey, were doing a girls night, movies, junk food, wine, you wanna join us?” Nat offered with a smile hoping to make the new recruit feel more welcome even though a part of her was wary.

“It’s a lot of fun, I was just about to get some snacks for tonight, let me know what you like” You add with a smile, only to be met with a scoff.

“Mmm, hard pass on that, wine isn’t really my thing, thanks though” She gave the group a tight lipped smile before turning back to the two super soldiers who had also joined at some point, scrolling through phones they finally knew how to use.

“What are you boys up to tonight” She threw them a smile while laying back on the couch and kicking her feet up, letting her hoodie ride up in the process.

“Bucky and I were actually just going get in a work out, nothing much tonight” He said with a smile, not noticing the way Nicole’s eyes lit up.

“Oh wow I actually haven’t been by the gym yet but I guess it’ll be where I spend most of my time for the program”

“You could join us if you’d like, we can show you around” Bucky offered, also missing the smirk that crossed her face, only seeing her bounce right up with an enthusiastic nod.

“Really? That would be great, I’d really appreciate it!”

“Of course, anytime. We’re just about to head down soon” Bucky stretched as he got up, along with Steve, waiting for her to change before heading down. She got up and went off to her room while you picked at the skin on your fingers. You felt a pang of something at the pit of your stomach at Bucky’s offer but you knew he was just trying to make the girl feel like she was part of the team. He knew more about feeling left out than anyone else; of course he’d never want anyone else to feel the same way.

Still.

Something was off.

You shook off the inkling of insecurity you felt, not wanting to over think his intentions. You and Bucky were not official yet but everyone knew there was tension and a clear unspoken dynamic between you both. It was just a matter of time. Unless he had his sights on the new girl...

No.

He wouldn’t do that.

Right?

*****

“She’s getting really comfortable around those two” Nat cocked an eyebrow watching Nicole have a field day sparring with the two men, throwing herself onto Bucky in particular, giggling when he’d help correct her stance or catch her before she slipped. Every since she joined them at the gym, she made a point to only work out when they were both there, finding excuses when anyone else would offer to help her train.

“I guess they are really experienced, so it makes sense...” Your voice trailed off, trying to reason why she was practically glued to their side, again ignoring the uneasiness you felt when Bucky picked her up with ease and set her back on her feet.

“Uh-huh, we’re all experienced” Nat rolled her eyes, plastering on a fake smile when the three finished up on the sparring mat, making their way over to the both you. “You three have a good workout?”

Steve blinked, noting the iciness In Nat’s voice though Nicole seemed unbothered.

“They’re great, can’t beat having the two best soldiers train me” She drawled out, giving them a wink. Bucky couldn’t help the blush that spread to his cheeks, not used to being praised and you couldn’t help the jealously that started to gnaw at you again.

No.

Relax.

“Anytime, Nic” He shrugged while Nat retched internally, deciding to cut through that conversation before it went further.

“You know, if you come by in the afternoons, Agent Hill hosts a great self-defense workshop for women, great way for you to do some networking as well” Nat gauged the way Nicole’s nose scrunched, shaking her head.

“Women’s workshop, sound’s like a drama fest waiting to happen, honestly most of my friends are guys, makes life easier, thanks though” her eyes didn’t leave the brunette, placing herself perfectly between both soldiers. “Besides, I’m pretty good with self-defense already, that's why I got these two helping me with a little extra”

“Anyway! Y/n and I were talking about the event Stark is hosting later night. You’re both coming, right?” Nat looked at the two men before her, purposely avoiding the Nicole but it didn’t seem to matter.

“Are you coming as well?” Bucky asked her, her eyes lighting up again, quickly recomposing herself after. “You could meet a few of the other agents too, get to know some more people”

“Uh sure, I could come by for a bit” She shrugged, coming off as indifferent while shaking with excitement on the inside. “Thanks, Sarge”

You sucked in a breath at the name she kept calling him, always dropping a suggestive tone in her voice. Or maybe you were over thinking it. It was perfectly plausible she was just being nice to the person who was making an effort to make her feel welcomed. Maybe she had bad experiences in other places that made her wary of women, hence why she only stuck to all the guys on the team. You tried to wrack you brain for answers that would make you feel a little better but came up short.

But you didn’t want to be petty.

You were more mature than this.

“We have plenty of dresses if you want to come by and get ready together” You offered again, mustering a smile, making a final attempt to befriend the new recruit but she didn’t even look your way, fully focused on the brunette.

“Uh- not really the dresses and heels type. I’m more of a sneakers girl to be honest” She tossed her pony tail over her shoulder, missing the way Nat’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head while you nodded, watching her sway her hips as she walked off. “I’ll drag myself over if I’m feeling it”

“Oh-okay, then we’ll just see you there!” You called after her while Nat dragged you off, uninterested in your constant attempts to be friendly.

“C’mon, lets get you ready. I’m going to make you look so hot, Barnes ends up on his knees” The red head smirked while you squeaked, feeling your face heat up. “We’re putting you in that red dress, the one that makes his pants feel too tight, don’t think I didn’t catch him adjusting himself the last time you wore it”

“Nat!” You hissed, hoping he didn’t hear, the both of you in a fit of giggles as you made your way to your room. “Oh my god” you hid your face while she dug through your closet, pulling out the tiny dress that hugged your body perfectly, the red color making you stand out in the best way possible.

“Go shower while I get all the make up out, I’m tired of miss pick me trying to get a buy one get one free deal with those two”

You snorted, hopping into the shower, letting the hot water destress your muscles, feeling a little more hopeful with the dress choice you were going with. Nat didn’t waste any time; as soon as you were out, your hair was styled, make up done and heels strapped. You knew you looked good when both Sam and Tony did a double take, letting their eyes shamelessly linger on you with low whistles.

“Y’know if you’re done playing games with terminator, I’d be happy to take his place” Tony wiggled his eyebrows while you giggled, taking a seat on the plush couch of the lounge where everyone else sat.

“What are you ladies drinking” Steve came over with a tray of drinks from the bar, already well aware of what each person liked to typically order.

“I’m good with a beer” Nicole shrugged, rolling her eyes when you took the pink drink from the tray, “Ugh, I don’t know how you drink those, they’re so sweet, do you even taste anything at that point?”

You shrugged, quietly taking a sip of the raspberry lemonade while she gulped her beer, signaling for another after slamming her bottle down.

“You guys took forever to get ready, this is why I can’t deal with makeup and dresses n’shit” she snorted, directing her comment mostly at you, “That’s a pretty bright color, I thought tonight was supposed to be lowkey?”

“Well I think you ladies look beautiful” Thor boomed, not catching the snark in Nicole's voice, his smile wide and voice completely sincere. “Especially you, Lady y/n”

“Thank you Thunder” You smiled, though the giddiness you felt initially had taken a second hit for the night. He beamed, setting down a bottle of Asgardian mead, searching for the two soldiers.

“Alright, where are the two that need this” He looked around for Steve and Bucky, since they couldn’t get drunk off of regular alcohol. Bucky strode in clearly dressed to kill, in all black from head to toe. Steve joined his side, their faces lit up like it was Christmas day seeing the crystal decanter in the God’s hands. Bucky’s eyes flicked back to you, his breath hitching in his throat, seeing you in his favorite dress.

“Fuck sweets, you look-

“C’mon Sarge, how about a little competition” Nicole nudged Bucky, cutting off the trance he had on you, her shoulder pressing into his, biting her lip and eyeing the alcohol, “Let’s see how many shots we can do”

“This might be a lot to handle doll” Bucky chuckled while you froze hearing what he called her. Her eyes lit up again, quickly glancing over to you, her eye brow quirking before leaning into him more.

Since when did he call anyone else doll.

You felt your stomach sink, taking another long sip of your drink instead, but nothing distracted you from the banter that was taking place before you.

“Ugh, finee, I’ll stick to regular vodka, c’mon Buckyyy, lets gooo!” She practically clung off him waiting for him to pour shots, inches away from crawling into his lap as he grabbed the bottles. You couldn’t tell if the flush from his cheeks was from the alcohol or the constant giggles Nicole made whenever he spoke but either way, you didn’t want to watch any longer.

“Where are you going” Nat grabbed your arm as you got up to leave, though you didn’t need to say anything for her to understand. Her green eyes glared at the tipsy solders who were now busy with a game of pool, surrounded by the rest of the team, Nicole practically crawling up Bucky’s legs each time it was his turn. “For fucks sake-

“They’re just having fun, don’t worry about it” You stopped Nat before she stormed over, shaking your head. As much as you wanted to red head to have her way with any of the three at this point, you couldn't be bothered. You were not about to fight for Bucky’s attention; if he wanted to give it to you, he would...

Right?

You thought things would go back to normal at some point. But it didn’t. Nicole made a point of training twice a day, anything to get her hands on the brunette. Anything to feel the cool metal of his hand on her. In fact she’d taken up most of Bucky’s time outside of just training, always finding ways to tag along with Steve as well, all while avoiding the rest of the team.

*****

“What's wrong sweets” Bucky could tell something was on your mind while he stroked your back, his body still warm from the way he took you apart at least 3 times before filling you up till you were dripping and soaking his sheets. He had finally gotten an afternoon off, tossing you over his shoulder when he found you in the kitchen, not letting you get a word in as he shut the door behind him. You wanted to argue back that he couldn’t just have access to you any time he felt like according to his convenience, but as soon as his soft lips were on you, you melted, turning into a moaning mess seconds later.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” You shrugged, toying with the corner of Bucky’s blanket, starting to feel more like you were just a body to warm his bed than someone he actually wanted to be with. “We haven’t really hung out recently”

You had let yourself relax into his hold only for him to curse under his breath a second later after he noticed the time. He shifted you off him, making his way over to the closet to pull over his jeans and Henley before scrambling around for his wallet and keys.

“Bucky, what are you-

“Sorry doll, I forgot I promised to take Nicole to the corner diner, showing her around a little bit cause she’ll be staying for a few extra weeks”

Fantastic.

“You spend a lot of time with her” You didn’t want to come off as jealous, keeping your voice even, though you were close to tearing someone's head off. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, humming in agreement while sitting at the edge of the bed to pull on his socks.

“Yeah, she’s fun!” Bucky said casually, which only made the weight in your stomach feel heavier. “She almost beat Steve in MarioKart, just when he thought he was unstoppable”

“Hm” You didn’t bother saying anything else while Bucky threw on his jacket, patting down himself to be sure he didn’t miss anything. He caught the way your face had fallen, his cool metal fingers slipping under your chin to tilt your face up.

“How about we hang out after? Around 7, we’ll watch a movie together, okay? I’ll grab dinner for us. Promise doll” He kissed your forehead before jogging off, closing the door behind him.

You were ready by 6, too excited to wait till 7, having showered and changed into something comfy, laying out Bucky’s favorite snacks and adding a few more soft pillows to the bed. You knew it was still early so you didn’t mind lounging around for a bit, anxiously checking the time as it neared closer and closer to when he was supposed to show up.

An hour later, it was 7.

Then 7:30.

And then 8.

By 9, you had left everything as is, blinking back the hot tears that wanted to spill, retreating back to your own room, not wanting to see him at all, even if he did have a good excuse for not showing up, which was highly unlikely. You shut the door, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and crawling into bed, burying yourself under the covers, no longer bothering to hold back the tears that began to soak your pillow.

****

Bucky cocked his head curiously, seeing his bedroom door left ajar, wondering why it was open when he definitely closed it before leaving. As soon as he stepped in, his heart dropped to his stomach seeing the pillows that were propped up against the headboard, his favorite snacks piled on the fluffy blanket, your fuzzy bunny slippers left behind beside his bed.

He cursed under his breath when he realized the time, remembering his promise to you, running straight to your room, only to find it closed with the lights turned off. He tried knocking only to be met with silence, carefully turning the handle and letting himself inside.

“Doll?” He felt his heart break further seeing the small lump under a mountain of blankets, curled up into a ball “Oh, doll” He strode over, sitting at the edge of your bed, careful not to wake you if you were asleep, his hand gently tucking a strand of hair from your face.

“What” Your voice cracked, hoping he’d think its from sleep and not the fact that you had been crying.

“I’m so sorry sweets, we lost track of time, we went out to grab food and then Sam suggested we check out that new arcade just down the street”

We were supposed to do that you thought to yourself, swallowing down the lump in your throat, refusing to let your emotions get the better of you.

“And then Steve and Sam had to leave half way cause they had a mission early in the morning. Nicole wanted ice cream so we went by Carla’s before coming back-

“You took her to Carla's?” You cut Bucky off, your heart breaking further. That particular ice-cream shop always felt like something special you shared with Bucky, the place he took you to when neither of you could sleep. It was the place you shared your first kiss with him, the place where he said he felt something between the two of you. It’s not like you owned the store but it felt like the final straw, your resolve finally breaking.

“Yeah, I-

“Just go Bucky” There wasn’t a hint of iciness in your voice; just disappointment and defeat, both far worse than you being angry. Bucky froze, pulling your blanket away from you, only for you to push his hand away, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Doll?”

“Don’t call me that” It was the indifference in your voice that left him hurt and confused, mouth opening and closing, “Please leave”

“Sweets, I can make it up to you, I promise-”

“It’s fine James” You shrugged, pulling the sheets higher up, not willing to speak anymore, knowing you’d burst into tears again if you did. Bucky reluctantly decided to let you sleep, figuring you’d hear him out the next day but no.

How wrong he was.

You avoided him in the morning.

And the day after that.

Nearly a week had gone by and you didn’t spare him a second glance, always finding an excuse to evade him whenever he trailed behind you. It didn’t help that Nicole attempted to stay glued to his side, not giving him chance to get you alone.

*****

“What’s with you” Sam watched Bucky slump down onto the sofa, where everyone else lounged around, his face sullen from a lack of sleep, grumpiness amplified because why were you avoiding him so much?

“Y/n isn’t talking to me” He shrugged, while Nat glared at him.

“I wonder why” the red head mumbled, rolling her eyes at his confusion.

“When was the last time you guys spoke” Steve inquired, equally concerned about why you were ignoring his best friend. Bucky was the last person to share stories about his love life but at this point he was desperate. He recalled the events of the last time he spoke to you, promising a movie night, going out with Nicole, taking her for ice cream, running late, apologizing to you afterwards, where did he go wrong?

“I didn’t mean to forget-

“Bucky!” Nat slapped him upside the head while he yelped, looking at her with puppy eyes.

“What did I do?”

“Barnes, you absolute doorknob, you took her to all the spots you take y/n to, you’ve been spending all your time making little miss I’m one of the guys feel comfortable, you’ve made y/n seem invisible and you’re wondering why she’s not talking to you?” Bucky blinked while Nat continued, her annoyance only growing when she saw a message from Nicole pop up on Bucky’s phone.

“You treat Nicole like your girlfriend. Imagine some new guy joins us, makes a point of eye fucking y/n the entire time, finding ways to constantly flirt with her and touch her, you’d be fine with it? Imagine he avoids hanging out with the guys but makes all the time in the world to chase after anything with breasts. On top of that, how would you feel if y/n went out of her way to make said guy feel more welcomed when he clearly just wants to get into her pants. You’d be fine with it?!”

Bucky shook his head, though still not fully understanding because Nicole was just a friend, not someone he’d even be into. Plus, its not like she was into him like that, right?

“But Nicole doesn’t want to-” Bucky started, shutting his mouth when Nat nearly hissed, staring at him while he did the mental math, “Nicole wants to get into my pants?” Bucky looked at Nat wide eyes, ducking the cushion she was about to whack at his face, all the pieces finally clicking together. He groaned, running a hand over his face, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Just as Sam and Steve were about to hum in agreement with Nat, she glared at them, their eyes growing wide.

“And you” Nat turned to glare at Steve, his shoulders slumping when he realized he wasn’t in the clear. He squeaked when Nat pulled his ear, giving it a squeeze, “What were you thinking. You didn’t once think it was weird she only trained with you two? Haven’t any of you noticed Nicole doesn’t hang out with any of us, Just you?” Nat waved her hand at the men that sat before her, their dumb stuck faces only adding to her annoyance. “Idiots”

As much as Bucky wanted to hit his head onto a brick wall, he didn’t have time to waste, immediately springing up from the couch to look for you. He checked everywhere he could but you were nowhere to be found. He was so desperate, he found himself shuffling outside of Tony’s lab, hoping FRIDAY would give him your location.

“You’re asking for a lot Barnes, y/n might add my name to the hit list if I tell you where she is”

“Please” Bucky was ready to beg on his knees while the billionaire huffed, watching the former assassin look like a lovesick puppy. He cocked an eyebrow, noting the glassiness of Bucky’s eyes on his desperate face, nodding before calling for FRIDAY to look for you. “Also, I need another favor...”

****

“Y/n, babygirl” He’d never felt such relief before, seeing you make your way to your room, coming back from your hiding spot from the roof, the scowl on your face clearly showing you weren’t trying to talk to anyone one your way over.

“Oh, I’m babygirl now? Has doll now been reserved for Nicole” You couldn’t hold back the sneer in your voice, walking away faster, ignoring his calls.

“Baby, please!”

No.

“Baby, wait!” Bucky chased after you, not willing to let another day go by without you knowing exactly how he felt. He managed to get hold of your hand, gently tugging you towards his chest and spinning you till your back was against the wall, his chest nearly pressed to you. “Please, I-I need to talk to you, tell you how I feel”

“There’s nothing to talk about”

“Yes there is” His voice was earnest, baby blues searching your downcast eyes, his finger tilting your chin up to look at him, “There’s so much to talk about, I adore you”

“Do you also adore Nic?” You scoffed, while Bucky’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment, the pink spreading up to his ears.

“There’s no Nic or Nicole, theres just a y/n, my y/n, only you doll” You rolled your eyes at his response, trying to move away but Bucky wasn’t having any of it, keeping you pressed against him, “I’m sorry darling, I didn’t realize what she was doing or get her intentions. I thought she just wanted to get to know the team better”

“Wow” you huffed under your breath, wishing you had the space to flick the super soldiers forehead.

“I know, I’m an idiot, and I’m an even bigger idiot for not making it clear I’m so utterly and desperately in love with you” Bucky bit his lip as soon as the words left his mouth, he’d said everything under the sun except those words before. But they were true and he’d kept it inside long enough. “I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you”

You squeaked in surprise when he scooped you up in his arms, tossing you over his shoulder, walking over to his bedroom, smiling when he felt your small fists hitting his back, your butt wiggling to be put back down.

“Barnes, put me down, you can’t just say you love me and then carry me away like a complete ogre!” He set you down, kicking the door shut behind him before wrapping his arms around you tightly again, falling more in love with your irritated pouty face.

“I love you sweet girl. God, I’m so in love with you”

“You’re an absolute idiot”

“An idiot who is in love”

“You’re so cheesy” You willed yourself not to smile, ignoring the butterflies that fluttered at his words and love struck eyes. “you’re still a dick”

“I know. M’sorry angel, I didn’t realize what I was doing, I never wanted to hurt you. I should’ve known something was up when all she wanted to do was train 24/7 but I guess I misunderstood her intentions cause I didn’t see her as anything else. I’ve only ever had eyes for you baby, you have my heart. You always will”

“Where is she right now anyway?” You melted into his chest, closing your eyes at the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Isn’t she supposed to be leaving soon?” Bucky didn’t respond, his hands starting to wander your body instead, slipping up your shirt, rubbing soft circles on your hips. Without warning, he picked you up again, tossing you on the bed and pouncing on you, peppering your face with kisses.

“Bucky what are you doing” You giggled feeling his beard tickle your skin as he started to trail kisses down your neck.

“I may have requested Tony to have her stay an extra night” Your face twisted in confusion at his words but the devious look on his face made your tummy flutter.

“And he happily agreed because...”

“Because...?”

“I want her to hear how good I can make the girl I picked feel” Bucky smirked as he crawled off you, stripping his clothes off before tearing yours off immeitedly after. “M’not gonna waste another second, gotta let the whole compound know who my best girl is”

****

“OH G-GOD J-JAMES FUUCCCKKK”

“That’s it pretty princess, that’s it, cum on my dick baby, my good girl, fuck you’re so good to me, look at that, God you’re soaked baby”

“Jesus Christ” Nicole huffed, no longer able to ignore the moans coming from Bucky’s room while the rest of the team pretended to be none the wiser, your loud love making carrying all the way down the hall. Bucky happily disabled the sound proofing in his room before pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, railing you into the mattress.

“Baby you look so pretty when you’re all stretched out like this, c’mon you can take more, spread those legs for me baby, open up, c’mon, lemme in”

“HNG PleasepleasepleaseJames”

“So perfect when you beg, cock’s all yours mama, m’all yours, go on and use me, that’s it, ride this dick, you own me”

“Bucky, gonna-c-cum, gonna-cum!”

“Cum for me princess, God I love you”

“You want a snack?”

“Nick?”

“Uh-Nicole?”

“Huh?” Nicole whipped her head around to where Steve was innocently holding out the bowl of popcorn, while Sam stood up to grab more snacks before the movie started. She stared at everyone surrounding her acting as if they couldn’t hear the way you were screaming your vocal chords raw, the super soldier moaning louder than you, “N-no, I’m fine”

Tony cocked an eyebrow at the way her jaw clenched, mindlessly scrolling through her phone while Bucky’s thrusts punctuated with each word.

“Y’feel so. Damn. Good. baby, could spent my whole life like this making love to you”

“Fuck, I love you James”

“Ugh- they’re so loud” Nicole rolled her eyes again in hopes that someone would feel the same but all she got were blank stares back.

“I mean, terminator is practically in love with her” Tony shrugged while the others nodded in agreement.

“They’re cute. It’s about time they made it official, don’t you think?” Nat asked sweetly staring directly at her while Steve tried to chime in as well, his cheeks burning hot pink between the sounds of skin slapping and moaning.

“They sound so happy together” he stuttered out while Sam snorted, choking from laughter.

“Oh God, oh god, fuck-Jamie-JAMIE”

“Yup, real happy”

“I-I think I’m actually gonna call it at early night, stay at the recruiting center tonight instead” Nicole headed straight to the main doors without looking back, the rest of the team giving each other satisfied smirks.

Bucky collapsed beside you, panting, his short locks clinging to his forehead, a thin sheet of sweat covering his body. He truthfully stopped caring about what Nicole could or couldn't hear half way through, meaning every single word he said as he took you apart over and over again. You giggled at his shy smile when he pulled you into his chest, pulling the sheets over you both, kissing your forehead.

“I love you pretty girl. I love you so much”

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steveslevis · 4 days

Text

i love you, it’s ruining my life

azriel x cassian’s sister!reader - part 1 of 3

summary: it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you weren’t supposed to be your brother’s best friend’s mate, especially when that best friend is the same male who’s acted like you don’t exist for the last two centuries.

warnings: angst, very brief mentions of violence and abuse, azriel is oblivious and reader is angry, not much pining in this part mainly just angsty

A single band of golden thread, stretched from your soul, reaching out into an abyss. There was seemingly no end to the thread, no definite stop, just a shadowy mess that sent the thread into a disarray as it reached for your mate.

Your mate. The male who had spoken maybe a full sentence to you a handful of times in the last few centuries. The male who was best friends with your brother, and acted as if you didn’t even exist.

Even in your younger years in Windhaven, it seemed Azriel didn’t even know you were there. Like you were a ghost, invisible to him in every sense of the word.

Azriel didn’t ever really speak to anyone, though, so it wasn’t like you were an exception, he treated you like most everyone else. But you never had been able to shake the fact that he would nearly sprint out of a room if you were the only one in it, or that he would refuse to look you in the eyes when you spoke at dinner. It was like he couldn’t even stand the thought of being in the same vicinity of you, like he couldn’t stomach talking to you.

And you were now bound to him, for the rest of eternity.

The bond had snapped for you immediately upon seeing the state of Azriel when they returned from Hybern without Feyre, when the entirety of their plan had gone up in flames, with Azriel in the main path of destruction.

Seeing him in so much pain tugged at your heart, nearly ripping it out of your chest when you saw how ruined his wings were. It affected you so much that you ran out of the room when they first arrived, partially because of how much it hurt you to see him like that, and partially because of how distraught the bond snapping into place had immediately made you feel. You couldn’t bear to see your mate in so much pain, and you knew you didn’t trust yourself to be around when they inevitably put him into more pain while healing him.

You kept to yourself for weeks after their arrival, only speaking to Rhysand and your brother when need be.

Rhys was the first one to find out about your dilemma.

He called you into his study weeks later to talk about a mission, one he needed you specifically on for your daemati skills. While he explained the details, he could tell your mind was elsewhere, so much so that you couldn’t even stop him from getting past the pure obsidian wall you’d built up in your mind, the wall you never let anyone break down until that moment.

Rhysand had given you a hesitant look when he stopped explaining the tasks in order to peer into your mind and capture your attention. He didn’t want to pry, only to get your mind focused by scaling his talon down the obsidian wall, which to his surprise collapsed before he could even attempt to breach it. But you nodded when he silently asked to see what had been keeping you so on edge, what had stopped you from helping Madja out with taking care of Azriel when they returned from Hybern, what had stopped you from engaging in conversation at dinner as of late.

A vision of a golden thread shrouded in black and gray shadows was sent to Rhys’ mind, along with a memory of exactly the moment you had been struck with the bond.

“Have you told him?” he implored, though he seemed to already know the answer.

You couldn’t even speak at that point, only shaking your head in response as tears brimmed your eyes when you thought of how fucked up it was to be bonded to someone who’d barely acknowledged you in the hundreds of years you’d known him.

Rhys gave you a sympathetic look then, knowing the feeling of an unrequited bond all too well.

You promised him about a thousand times that you wouldn’t let him find out, that you wouldn’t let the agony and sadness get in the way of the mission. You could prove yourself worthy and able to go on without thinking about how you might never get an accepted bond, you assured him that you could. He was still unsure when he agreed to let you go on the mission, but it was miniscule enough that any lapses in judgment wouldn’t be detrimental, so he agreed.

And you proved yourself, just like you said you would. You proved yourself over and over again with Rhysand’s missions, building up your mental shields stronger than they ever had been before. So strong, that the High Lord himself had a hard time cracking through them.

You became a shell of what you were before seeing your mate in that near-death state, but you didn’t care. You needed to distract yourself in any way, shape or form that you could in order to forget about him, to forget that he’d never even taken a second glance in your direction.

It got to the point where you became so shut off from reality that even Cassian, your brother known for paying no mind to female emotions, started to notice.

You caught Cassian giving you inquisitive stares a handful of times during training and at dinners when your attitude was exceptionally reserved and demure, but never thought he would actually say anything to you.

That was until he finally snapped, on the first dinner with Feyre back in Velaris, which just so happened to be the first dinner that Azriel joined in the weeks after Hybern.

You nearly fell out of your seat when you saw him in all his glory. There he was, standing at the end of the table, as beautiful as ever. He was almost fully healed, aside from a few scars littered over the membrane of his wings.

Excited chatter filled the room as he entered, everyone falling into their rightful place in the Inner Circle, along with the newest members, Nesta and Elain. Though you were one of the longest standing members of Rhysand’s Inner Circle, you felt the most out of place in that moment.

The wine you’d been sipping churned in your stomach as you eyed the shadowsinger, who was sitting quietly across the table from you. You couldn’t handle it, knowing that he was your mate and he had no clue. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him finding out, of him potentially rejecting the bond.

After a moment of silently wallowing in your self pity, you felt that familiar talon scrape along your mental shield. Rhys was requesting access to your mind, likely to give you some insight about this unrequited feeling based on his own experience.

You rejected his request instead of letting him in, shooting him a quick glance before standing up abruptly, quietly excusing yourself with the reasoning that you weren’t feeling well.

You rushed up the stairs, toward your bedroom all the while feeling like you were drowning. You needed air, fresh air, now. It was in that moment that you thanked the Cauldron for Rhysand putting you in the bedroom with a large balcony, one perfect for moments like this.

Little did you know, your brother had stalked up the stairs behind you, worried after seeing the panic-stricken look on your face before bolting from the room.

You didn’t bother to close your bedroom door behind you, leaving Cassian the perfect opportunity to come in to check on you. You were out on the balcony in an instant, nearly gasping for air as the cool night breeze hit your face.

“Hey,” Cassian called behind you, standing awkwardly in the middle of your bedroom. “You alright?”

“I don’t want to talk right now, Cass.” you retort quickly, shooting a glare in his direction before leaning over the metal railing as he furrows his brow. “I obviously don’t feel great at the moment.”

“Yeah, no shit. But that doesn’t warrant you snapping at me when all I’m doing is coming to check on you,” he presses, taking a step onto the balcony to stand by you. “It doesn’t warrant you ignoring me for fucking weeks now.”

“What do you want me to say, Cassian?” you snap, throwing your hands up in defeat. “I—I don’t really know what kind of explanation you need from me, I just haven’t been in a talking mood these last few weeks.”

“Oh, bullshit.” he says, shaking his head at you. “I see you chatting with Rhys and Mor all the fucking time. You’re only shutting me out. What the fuck did I do?”

You take a moment to look up at your brother, finally seeing the hurt sketched across his features as he pleads with you, trying desperately to get through to you.

“You didn’t do anything.” you sigh, letting your guard down as you realize how much you’d hurt your twin in the last few weeks. “I—I just am going through some shit right now.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” he says, nudging your arm with his elbow as a relieved but hesitant smile passes over his face. “I’m always here to lend an ear.”

“Are you sure?” you say, voice cracking as you internally accept that you’re about to change everything in Cassian’s life with four simple words.

“Positive.” Cassian says, smile still on his face as he grips your shoulder to reassure you.

“Azriel is my mate.” you say bluntly, watching in silent terror as your brother’s face falls and so does his hand from your shoulder. “And he has no idea.”

——————————————————————

That was almost two years ago.

Cassian took the news quite well, and became your biggest supporter when it came to dealing with the hardships of an unrequited mating bond. Even as he dealt with his own unrequited bond for a short amount of time, he still made sure to make it known that he still cared for and understood the pain you were going through.

And now that the war against Hybern had been won, you could focus all your energy into training and missions Rhys would send you on.

Rhysand knew you preferred to be sent on solo missions, that you worked better alone without anyone disrupting your focus. But, there were some missions that couldn’t be done alone.

“You–This is a joke, right?” you say with a laugh, narrowing your eyes at the High Lord who sat across the desk in his office, raising his eyebrow at you as you laugh. “I work alone, Rhys.”

“I know you work best alone, but sometimes I can’t send you alone,” Rhys starts, giving you a sharp glare as you start to stand from your chair, “I can’t send you alone, not on this one.”

“Why?” you pressed, pushing off the arms of your chair to move closer to the desk. “You haven’t even told me what I’m doing or where I’ll be going yet, so why should I even agree to it without knowing?”

The look the High Lord was giving you made you uneasy, turning your stomach in knots, but you persisted. You needed him to stop treating you like you were made of glass, like you would break, like you hadn’t been training with Cassian since you could stand.

“I’m not a child anymore, Rhys.” you snapped, hands balling into fists as they pressed against the oak of his large desk. “I can handle whatever it is, without Azriel babysitting me.”

“I really don’t know–”

“Are you trying to torture me?” you interject, a pained expression crossing over your face, one of betrayal at the feeling of one of your longest friends trying to put you in such an uncomfortable position when he knows exactly what you’ve been dealing with over the last two years. “Are you trying to make me suffer, do you want me to –”

“I need you to go to Windhaven.” Rhys finally commanded, voice wavering slightly as he brought up the place you once called home, the place he knew would send you regressing into a lesser version of yourself. “I need you to go there, with Azriel.”

The mention of Windhaven sent a shiver down your spine, wings twitching in fear as you thought about the horrors you endured in your final years at the camp. Your sharp gaze flickered for a split second, mind running back to that cabin, to the flash of wings and clawing hands, to the male who did irreparable damage to your soul, to the moment you swore you’d never let a male hurt you again. With a shake of your head, you block the thoughts out, pressing that black obsidian wall back up to prevent yourself from breaking.

“I’ll be fine on my own.” you say, putting your stern persona back into place, trying to make it seem as though you’re unbothered.

“I need to send him with you, someone needs to watch your back.” he insists while shaking his head as his gaze softens, trying to get you to break from your hardened facade.

“What about Cass?” you retort, shaking your head.

“He’ll be in Spring, he’s got business with Tamlin and Eris to attend to for me.” he quickly replies, shaking his own head. “Please, I need you to do this.”

“I–I can’t.”

“Is the thought of being alone with me for two days that bad?” a voice comes from behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

Your mate, just the person you didn’t want to see right now.

You whip around quickly at the sound of his voice, brow furrowed as you see him standing in the doorway. It takes everything in you not to sigh at the sight of him, at how damn good he looked, just standing there. You cursed yourself internally, wishing you could think about anything else besides how much you pined for him. Still, you had an image to uphold, an image of distaste for the beautiful shadowsinger standing in front of you.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, shadowsinger.” you snap, shooting a glare in his direction that sends a pang of guilt running down the one-sided bond.

“I’m sorry?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you, his face the poster child for cool composure as your rage boils in front of him.

“You can barely stand to be in the same room for me for more than five minutes,” you state, crossing your arms matter-of-factly. “You quite literally leave any space in the house when I’m the only other person around.”

The thought of your mate, the one who was supposed to be at your side for all of eternity, leaving the room any time you entered made your blood boil and chest ache. You ached for him, you ached to feel his touch, to be loved by him. But he didn’t care about you, didn’t care if you lived or died.

Seeing the anger in your eyes made Azriel stop in his tracks, something unfamiliar tugging at his heart as you seethed. There was a gnawing feeling in his chest as he thought about the last five hundred years, how he never paid you any mind.

The truth was, he avoided you with every bit of willpower he had in order to restrain himself. He couldn’t be around you for more than a few moments without your overpowering scent filling his nose feeding his desire to tear you apart. Every time he was with you alone, he wanted to tear down any walls that he had and just have at you, to have you as his. He wanted you carnally, he wanted all of you, all of the time.

But that wasn’t the kind of male he was. He would never do such a thing to Cassian, his best friend. He couldn’t let himself have you just to fulfill his deepest desires, you deserved so much more than to be some one night fling. You deserved to be loved and cared for, to be protected at all costs.

So he had ignored you, for almost five fucking centuries, because he thought he couldn’t give you what you deserved. He pushed out any thought he had about you, pushed away the urge to pursue you in any way, and pushed you away in the process. He knew you well from watching from afar, but to you it seemed as though you were the last thought in his mind, when in reality, you were the only thought in his mind at all times.

“That’s not–” Azriel started, but the words fell on his lips as he watched your own pull into a frown, an expression that was much more broken than the anger that had crossed over your face when he snuck in.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought, you prick.” you said weakly, finally letting your emotions get the better of you. As tears pricked your eyes, you turned to Rhys once more. “I will not be going anywhere with him. I will be going by myself, or not at all. I am strong enough to do this on my own and I’m tired of being treated like a child in this court.”

Rhys only stared at you as you stalked towards the desk once again, watching as your hands shook with pain. He showed no change in emotion as you spoke, fully in High Lord mode instead of the Rhysand you knew and loved.

“I will be in my room, packing. When you’re done being a stubborn male and realize that I can do whatever the hell it is you need me to do, I’ll be waiting for further instructions.” you state, trying to choke back the tears that are threatening to flow onto the wood in front of your hands.

The High Lord nods firmly in response, and you turn on your heels. Azriel is still standing in the doorway, but you don’t dare to look at him. You push past the shadowsinger, swiping your cheeks hastily as tears fall down them. As you pass, your wing brushes his in the lightest of touches. You swallow a gasp as they touch, a shockwave flowing through your wing and going straight to your heart.

Azriel turns to gaze at you with wide eyes and you immediately know he felt it too. He felt the shock, the electricity between your wings, but not in the way you did. Not down the one-sided, golden bond that stretched toward him.

Confusion spread over his face as he looked at you, but you turned away and rushed towards your room before he could fully process what happened.

The rest of your afternoon was spent alone in your room, laying on your bed for most of the night as you stared up at the ceiling. You cursed yourself internally over and over again, wishing there were some way to change everything, some way to make you forget that you even had a mate.

Over and over again, you told yourself how you weren’t worthy of the immeasurable love that came with a mate, how you would never be good enough for Azriel.

It had always been like that for you, though. The feeling of inadequacy was a daily occurrence for you, it wasn’t a secret. Cassian knew it, and so did Rhysand, so you’re sure Azriel did too. You worked day in and day out trying to prove that you were worthy to your brother and the High Lord and everyone around you, regardless of the pain you put yourself in.

Rhysand knew you too well, and knew that you were all too serious about going on the mission by yourself, or at least without Azriel. After you left his office, he’d tried to speak to Cassian about accompanying you, but it was of no use, he was preoccupied. He didn’t want you to go by yourself, he knew you’d be scared just by being in Windhaven again, but he also knew that you being the one to go on this mission was the only hope.

Your untraceable daemati skills were an impeccable weapon that couldn’t be replaced by Azriel’s shadows or Cassian’s brute force. Even the High Lord himself didn’t have daemati powers as stealthful as yours, so you were the best option when it came to figuring out who was trying to rebel.

After much contemplation, Rhys eventually sent a concise and firm message to your mind.

I need you in Windhaven by dinner tonight, Devlon will be expecting you to be there. There are a few Illyrians that I need you to check in on while you’re there, Cass told me there are talks of rebellion led by Cormac and Bavlard. he explained, you should only need to be there for tonight to gather enough information, but plan to stay until tomorrow evening in case we need more intel. You’ll stay in the cabin as usual, I’ll be in contact regularly to check on you, since you’ll be on your own this time.

The last sentence had a smile flickering on your lips, happy that Rhysand was finally taking you seriously as a member of his Inner Circle and trusting you enough to send you on missions by yourself. Luckily, you were already packed so it didn’t take much for you to get ready to go.

In less than an hour, you were dressed in your fighting leathers and on the balcony of your room. You waste no time in flying from the house, large wings spreading for the first time in what feels like forever as you make for the sky.

The breeze against your skin makes you sigh with joy, trying to enjoy the twinge of happiness that flying gives you as you make your way towards the place you once called home, the place you now call hell.

taglist: @paleidiot @tothestarsandwhateverend @impossibelle

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel angst #azriel x you

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luveline · 28 days

Note

you can ignore me for the rest of time and I will still dutifully show up to read your work every day ~ can I request some angsty bombshell x spencer? maybe their first actual fight and spence snaps at her so bombshell r crying and locks herself in their room and he apologizes through the door but still sleeps on the couch and she comes and snuggles in the middle of the night and forgives him bc she can’t sleep? this is so self indulgent pls feel free to change anything you want love you jade

thank u for requesting! —spencer makes you cry. fem, 1k

Spencer can’t stand hearing you cry. He can’t believe he’s the one who caused it —he didn’t mean to, he just got so annoyed at you, everything’s difficult lately now you’ve moved in together permanently because you practically living at his apartment is apparently not the same as truly living with one another.

He knows neither of you are unhappy living together, but you haven’t fought before, not like this. He stands just outside the bedroom door where you’ve sequestered yourself, ashamed of making you this upset. He doesn’t let himself in. “Y/N?”

“Go away, Spencer,” you say. To your credit, you try to sound calmer than you are.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. Please don’t cry.”

“Spencer,” you say, a line of anger darkening your words, “leave me alone.”

He shouldn’t have said you were being lazy. You aren’t lazy, you’re tired. Moving in together has been really hard on you, even if you won’t admit it, or show it externally. He just wanted to say something mean, because you’d said you allowed him to have that ugly armchair in the living room and he got mad —it’s not ugly, and he wasn’t allowed, he’s a grown man.

He just can’t feel angry about it anymore hearing your sad sniffling. He said something too mean, he took it too far, and maybe he was ‘allowed’. Moving in together is about compromise, and you’d compromised, and he’s punishing you for it.

“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I– I was being mean and you didn’t deserve that. I’ll be out here if you… if you wanna talk to me,” he says, turning to leave with his head held low.

He waits all night for you to come out, if it were just to drink some water or use the bathroom, but after a few minutes he can’t hear you crying, and you don’t make any sounds. He thinks he might hear you moving the sheets aside some time toward 10PM, but there’s nothing after that. He falls asleep on the couch, sulking, wishing he hadn’t been such an idiot.

You let yourself out of your shared bedroom in the middle of the night. The sheets don’t smell enough like him, and you want to hold his hand, and you want to know he’s really not mad at you. That he doesn’t really think you’re lazy.

Quiet, you walk downstairs and into the living room, where Spencer sleeps stretched out on the couch. It’s a big couch, meant for soft sitting, wide enough that, were you to set a baby down, they couldn’t roll off accidentally. Spencer’s on his side with his arm curled around one of the bigger pillows, brown strands of hair falling into his face.

He’s not a deep sleeper, but you can’t say you’re scared to wake him. You pull the pillow from his arms and sit on the couch beside him, working your way into his side, and encouraging his arm over yours. Gentle, you brush the mess of his hair from his eyes. He doesn’t even have a blanket.

You hold his sleeping face in your hands. His eyes twitch and scrunch tighter at your touching, worried, but you give a gentle, “Shh,” and he relaxes. His eyes smooth, then open, lashes struggling apart, the brown of his eyes dark as a roasted chestnut.

He whispers your name, tongue heavy with sleep.

“Mm,” you reply, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You press your face to his neck, letting yourself deflate as you wait for his arms to lock you in. It can’t be five seconds before he’s curling his arms around you carefully, kissing your hairline, the first bit of skin he can reach at this angle. He’s not quite awake yet, you know, can tell from countless times sleeping in his bed. If he were to fall back to sleep, he wouldn’t remember this tomorrow.

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper.

“Oh,” he says, with all the tenderness of a pet name, dripping, palpable adoring, “want tea?”

“Want you.”

He strokes your shoulder. You’re the one being hugged, really, but Spencer’s grip gets so tight you worry he needs one. You wrap your arms behind him, close your eyes tight to stop from getting teary.

“I don’t like fighting,” you say.

“M’sorry.”

“Do you want to kiss and make up?”

He stills. “You’re not mad?”

“You really upset me, Spence. N’ I bet you know that n’ feel bad enough already,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was being childish.”

You forgive him. Everybody’s allowed to be mean every once in a while. You’d been arguing, and you can feel now that he regrets it, his hands apprehensive but somehow loving still as they touch your back through the thin fabric of a t-shirt he’d bought you. The front has a silly graphic on it, some equation that spells out love.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’m not mad. I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me, so… Let’s not fight again.”

“I don’t like it when you cry.”

You shake your head gently, slotting yourself into all his nooks and crevices. Your legs tangled, the couch is an ample bed for two people trying to be as close to each other as humanly possible. You don’t like crying either, not over Spencer, not thinking he doesn’t see you in the light you’d thought he did.

“Do you really think I’m lazy?” you ask.

“No, I was being awful,” he says, sounding deeply repentant.

Well, there’s no need to punish him, you decide, not when he’s beating himself up already. You cup the back of his head to tap your foreheads together, any aches and pains of the bed disappearing in the eye of his softness. He’s gaining confidence now you’ve touched his hair, his hands travelling low to the small of your back, your face once again pushed into the curve of his neck, where you stay.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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roosterr · 8 months

Note

Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines.

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

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blondedmuse · 4 months

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BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE (BEAUTIFUL PROBLEMS)

synopsis. ꩜ how felix comforts you.

author’s note. ∿ i wanted to write something (kind of) short and angsty so here’s this

When Felix woke up his skin was cold, lacking the warmth your body gave him in the night, his arms holding onto the ghost of you. He lifted his body from his bed, his eyes in search of his room for any trace you you. He couldn’t find anything. He checked the room you were assigned when you first arrived at Saltburn and you weren’t there either—not that you used it anyways. So, he walked downstairs to the dining room assuming you were at the table eating breakfast. While everyone ate at approximately at the same time it was in Felix’s nature to be a little fashionably late.

His assumptions were correct as you sat for the meal, looking down at your food. It was when you looked up at him he noticed something innately wrong, unable to ignore how your eyes were tainted red as they flit around the room, unable to hold his gaze. You hadn’t said much other than please and thank you the entire time, ultimately excusing yourself early, the sound of your feet resounding throughout the house as you walked back upstairs.

“Is she okay?” Venetia subtly whispered to Felix and he shook his head with a shrug. “I don’t know,” He responded seriously. Elsbeth gave her son a look of concern, the green light that it was acceptable to excuse himself.

“If I may, I’m going to excuse myself to check on her.” His parents nodded and he followed the same way you went. He eventually traced you back to the bathroom that separated your two rooms, peeking in the door when he heard your figure slosh in the water of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly and you nodded. Your knees were to your chest as you held a cigarette in your hand. Felix kneeled beside you, replacing the cig with his hand, putting it out on the ash tray beside the bath it seemed you brought with you. His thumb massaged your hand in silence as if it would magically ease whatever was devastating you—it didn’t, but it calmed the both of you to know that it helped.

“Do you want me to join you?” He mouthed, quieter than the previous question as you looked at him again. Still you didn’t say anything, only nodding as he reluctantly released your hand to remove the clothing from his body. You moved from your position momentarily to make room for him in the bath, sitting in his lap once he was submerged with you.

He didn’t push you to talk but there was something so concerning, persuasive about the look in his eyes you almost felt guilty for staying quiet. Felix would never intend to make you feel that way, there was just something about him that made you want to open your heart to him knowing that he’d keep it safe.

The thought alone made your eyes water like they had earlier that morning, the reason why you left him in bed alone. You rested your head on his chest as you cried, Felix’s arms around you, rubbing at your back as you did so. His head rested atop yours, cringing to himself each time he felt it shake from a sob.

“I’m right here, okay?” He mumbled into your hair. His statement made it seem like he was a few doors down or right next to you, but in truth his body was wrapped around yours, protecting you like a shield from anything that threatened to hurt you. He knew he couldn’t, but right now it was the best he could do.

#gentle love is soo ☹️☹️☹️#jacob elordi #felix catton #felix catton saltburn #saltburn #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton headcannon #oliver quick #felix x reader

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wandasfavreal · 1 month

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Getting Closer

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finally indulging in a relationship with your stepmom, you found yourself in more situations involving Wanda’s careless behavior such as her secretly fucking you as your father’s in the same room.

Part 1(Make You Mine)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stepmom!Wanda x fem!reader, slight non/con, strap on(r receiving), strapwarming, fingers in mouth, RISKYYY sex, angry sex??, daddy issues, and mommy kink bc she’s just sooo, also kinda angsty/fluffy at the end

It’s been a couple weeks since your first time with Wanda. And ever since then, she had become a bit more clingy than expected. Actually more than clingy, just completely obsessed with you.

Almost every night Wanda came to your room, fucking you to relieve herself of both the sexual frustration from you and just the frustration from your father. The two haven’t been getting along at all, only having arguments every day even if they were over little things. Wanda couldn’t even bear sleeping with him, and just used the couch downstairs in the living room as a cover up of where she actually slept, your bed.

Not that you mind though. It was actually one of the best things that happened to you as you didn’t think your father was ever worthy of having such an endearing and beautiful wife like Wanda. She was the only person who actually cared for your well being, truth be told. Unlike your dad, she didn’t dismiss your feelings, always looking out for when you acted unusual and making sure there was something she could do to fix it. Her whole world and worries were about you, only you. Her sweet nature only got to the point where you questioned yourself, if you’d possibly fallen in love with her.

———————-

Around 5pm Wanda called you out to the living room, seemingly planned something. She was sat in the armchair, one of those sofas that would only fit for one. You walked towards her curiously, asking “You called?”

“Yeah, you wanna watch a movie with me?” She replied quickly with a charming smile, the one you grew even weaker for. Glancing at the tv screen, it displayed a familiar movie from the collection of DvDs you grew up watching. You figured it’d be fine to spend some time with her, noticing the need to be close to you she showed too. Though strangely, she had a blanket covering her lap despite the hotter conditioning within the house.

“Um, sure,” You said, moving to sit on her lap as she patted and gestured you to sit there, something that was considered normal as you’ve done it many times before now. However, as you sat down you felt something hard poking your thighs. Your head turned to look back at her questionably, your eyebrows furrowed. “Wanda..?”

In response, she only smirked and moved her hands to your waist, pulling you back to push her front against your body. You let out a small gasp upon feeling her breasts pressed up on your back and as the lead-up happened all so quickly. “I need you really bad today, sweetie.” She said, her voice low in your ear. She moved one hand down to roughly tug down the blanket out and from under you, revealing the toy she hid. It was a large strap on that she had used on you before, though you’ve never taken the whole thing before. The deep red of it was an appealing color to Wanda’s character, and you thoroughly found it arousing to see her with it.

The toy was then in between your thighs, slightly pressed up against your clothed center. “Could you be a dear and help mommy out?” She asked you as her hand squeezed your side, her control already leaving her like always.

You shyly nodded as her soft tone made your head feel cloudy, reaching for the waistband of your shorts and underwear to pull them down once you stood up a bit. Wanda assisted you in doing so, and quickly pulled them down because she just desperately wanted to get straight to the point. She positioned the strap to align with your entrance, already finding you wet. Once the tip was in, she got ahold of your waist again, carefully lowering you down on the big shaft.

“I’ll go slow, don’t worry,” Wanda reassured you. There was small whine that left your mouth as it barely fit and got halfway. She shushed you, rubbing your sides in the hopes that you’d relax more. Still, as she kept pushing you down, tears quickly built up and your hands found their way to Wanda’s thighs under you, squeezing tightly. A loud whimper came out as your breathing also quickened. “I know, I know baby, it’s big. Just breathe in and out.”

You knew Wanda always made sure you were okay before doing something, but she was at times an impatient woman. Ergo, leading to her unexpectedly force you down fully. You yelped and had a tighter grip on her, though not strong enough to hurt her. Your legs kicked a bit helplessly as you were stuck with her inside and buried in you to the brim. Another whine left your throat, “Mommy…”

“It’s okay, I won’t move. I just want you to sit on mommy’s cock for a little while, okay? Just focus on the tv, sweetie,” Wanda responded, her voice sounding sickly sweet. She lifted her hand to your cheek, turning your head to face forward instead of her. Her eyes trailed your body, noticing the hardening nipples showing through the shirt you were wearing. One hand went under the fabric, creeping up to aggressively grope your chest, only making you moan as you began to focus on that instead of the bruising feeling within your cunt.

She kept this up for about half an hour, teasing your body and making you drenched around her cock. As time passed, you grew needier and eager for her to move, but she showed no signs of wanting to. You shifted bit in her lap, biting your inner cheek as the toy hit a spot that made you quietly moan. Wanda of course witnessed the entire thing, not paying a single ounce of her attention on the screen in front of her, only her favorite girl. She smirked at your desperation beginning to show, and only stopped you as her hands tightly held you still. “What did I say? Focus on the movie.”

“But I-“

The sound of the front door alerted you two and stopped you from continuing. Both you and Wanda turned to the direction of it, only to hear the familiar noise of your father barging in. Panicking, you tried to lift yourself up. However, Wanda had other plans as she kept her hold on you, giving you a look of authority to keep you from moving. Despite his unexpected return, Wanda was awfully calm, like she didn’t even care if you’d get caught getting fucked by his wife.

The footsteps were getting closer, making you sweat nervously as you stared between Wanda and where the hallway met the living room.

“Hey, is Wanda here?” Your father asked, seeing your head positioned slightly above the headrest of the armchair once he came into view. Considering the size of the chair and the way it was positioned, you guessed that Wanda wasn’t visible in his perspective. You turned your body a bit and moved your head to where the back of the chair didn’t block your eyes, resting an elbow on the armrest as you looked behind at him.

“I-“ you felt a small yet effective upward movement of Wanda’s hips that caused you to bite your lip hard, causing it to slowly bleed out. Any feeling of her moving inside your sensitive walls made you see stars. Your father looked at you, confused at the sudden pause. Wanda held a smug look on her face as her hands were on your waist, and noticing how you weren’t responding quick enough, she dug her nails into your skin. The action made you surprised and stutter out an answer to him, trying your best to ignore the pain and pleasure that came from the woman underneath you. “S-She’s probably out buying groceries.”

He only responded with a silent nod, no longer looking at you and focusing on searching for something from his pocket. Confused on why he was even home at this time, you asked “What are you doing here anyway? S-Shouldn’t you be at work..?”

Your father still wasn’t looking at you as he patted down his jacket. “Uh yeah I got off work early… but I think I have to go back. I forgot my wallet,”he said, sighing loudly as he didn’t find it anywhere.

“You should probably go then…” you said, a noticeable quiver in your voice. Wanda still kept thrusting gently into you, the entire thing going in and out. You looked down at her face for second which showed a pleasured and teasing look as her eyes zeroed in on how you were taking it. Your lip was also still trapped between your teeth, and you tasted metal off the tip of your tongue.

“Alright, I’ll be back later then. Make sure Wanda starts dinner, I’m starving.”

That last comment made Wanda thrust inside your cunt brutally. A whimper escaped as you immediately put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it hard enough to make her stop. Her face then showed irritation and annoyance, staring off to the side. Luckily your father’s ears seemed to lack hearing, something you noticed as he hadn’t questioned the screaming coming from your room every night at all. He quickly left the house, leaving you stuck on top of his wife who he aggravated.

Out of nowhere, she brought her hands down to your ass, lifting you up from her strap. As you shakily stood, it allowed Wanda to drag you to the longer couch, pushing you down on it so you laid and faced upward. She took the hem of your shirt before pulling it off you in a careless manner.

“God, I’m so fucking sick of him…” she said, her voice deep and raspy as her eyes happened to have darken. Her hand took the toy and positioned it back to your pussy, only this time pushing in swiftly and roughly. You cried out and winced at the feeling of being stretched again, gripping onto the soft cushions underneath you. Wanda set off a fast pace and slammed into you without any remorse.

“W-Wanda slow down- please,” you begged, tears beginning to form once again. Wanda only ignored the plea, holding up your thighs from underneath and pushing them up against your chest to get better access. Your mouth fell open, moans spilling as the pain quickly faded into something pleasurable. You shut your eyes, letting Wanda take all her frustrations out on you now. Your orgasm was soon just seconds away, already built up from warming her cock earlier.

“There you go, cum for mommy,” she said, panting heavily as she continued the forceful thrusts and felt your walls tightening around the strap. Once her words registered, you came and let out noises you didn’t even know were possible out of your mouth. Wanda fucked you through it, letting you ride out your orgasm, but not letting up and making you build up to a second. You cried out again for her to stop, reaching out with one hand to push against her pelvis in attempt.

“Shh… you can take it,” she spoke, smiling sadistically down at you as tears kept falling. You shook your head no repeatedly and vigorously. Your noises and crying didn’t stop either, so to silence it, Wanda took two fingers and shoved them into your already gaping mouth, shutting you up. “Uh huh… so much better when you’re quiet and letting me have my way.”

You whined around her fingers, causing her to only push them deeper and making you gag. Finding it hot, she kept pushing her fingers back in and out, loving the way you choked on her thin yet long digits. It followed a similar pace as her hips, and this time she was pounding you into the couch. “Fuck, you love it when I stuff your holes like this huh? Filled up with all of me?”

Lost in your mind, you now nodded desperately feeling her beginning to hit your g spot over and over again. Drool leaked around Wanda’s fingers and your mouth, following the tears that layered your cheeks. She was feral at the sight of that and it only pushed her to fuck into you deeper and harder. Now coming closer to another orgasm, you whimpered aloud and gripped the wrist of Wanda’s hand that was near your mouth.

Your body shook tremendously once your climax hits you hard, more than the first. Wanda’s fingers left your mouth, a string of saliva following. And her movements continued, but a lot slower thankfully. Still, the overstimulation was overwhelming. “M-Mommy too much, I can’t…” you helplessly said as your voice was shriveled and weak. She had a small upward curve of her lips due to your adorableness from the aftershocks of an orgasm, then soon coming to a halt. She slowly pulled out, watching your pussy leave a mess as it leaked onto the couch.

Fighting the urge to just put her cock back in and fuck you stupid again, she breathed out heavily and took the strap off. Wanda leaned down to give you a kiss, a meaningful one as it lasted longer than most. “You’re so perfect baby… did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.” She whispered against your ear once you sat up slowly and against her chest with her help. It was already sore in different parts of your body, but especially your abused center and bruised thigh. Wanda wiped off the wet spots on your face, softly cradling the back of your head. “You okay?”

“Mhm…” you hummed in response, nodding slowly. She smiled cutely at you, now no longer thinking of anything else. She placed light feather kisses all around your face, causing you to also smile at her adoring aftercare.

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers ran through your hair. Her other arm wrapped around your body, pulling you into her more once she leaned back on the couch. Your head laid peacefully against her within this moment of silence. You then looked up from her neck to see her already looking down at you with a blush on her face along with her eyebrows knitted together forming small wrinkles between. It was like she wanted to tell you something, and knowing her, it was, because she always looked at you with that same expression when she felt vulnerable around you.

“I love you.”

The words that came from her mouth weren’t exactly unanticipated but you were still surprised. Butterflies erupted in your stomach and your face became a darker shade as well, matching the warm cheeks that Wanda had. She looked at you nervously as you took time to respond, not sure if it was too soon after the session.

“I love you too,” you replied, gazing up at her lovingly. She raised her eyebrows in surprise at your response, the overthinking and insecurities preventing her from expecting the answer she wished for. A grin grew on her face once she saw your cute expression. She cupped your face, pulling you into another deep kiss.

“I wish I met you sooner,” she whispered between kisses, thinking about how different it could’ve been without your father in the picture. You smiled, yet inwardly frowned at her words, finding them true as they proved the reality you created in your head false. That maybe you weren’t able to keep whatever this relationship was up in spite of the love you shared.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #mommy!wanda #scarlet witch #lesbian #elizabeth olsen #top!wanda #fem!reader #i need her so bad

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illyrianbitch · 3 months

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Death and His Reaper

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: After suffering a devastating injury in battle, Azriel finds himself on the brink of life and death where he meets you, The Mother's reaper.

Warnings: angsty fluff?, brief mentions of battle and injury, lil convos about life and its meaning, Azriel without his shadows, lowk love at first sight

Word Count: 13k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel could feel the hot, metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, the sharp sting of pain shooting through his body with each ragged breath. A pounding, almost unbearable, pain in his head consumed him, a relentless throb that pulsed with every beat of his heart– each pulse sending waves of nausea washing over him. He tried to move, to shift away from the agony, but his limbs felt like stone, heavy and unresponsive. His muscles screamed in protest with every attempt to shift position, every movement met with waves of agony that radiated through his battered form.

Dark spots filled his vision as the ringing in his ears grew louder. Everything was fuzzy, hazy, blurs of movement and moving color. Azriel could hear sounds around him. Loud sounds, piercing sounds. Distantly, he could make out what he assumed were screams. He wasn’t sure though, and wasn't able to think about it too hard. His shadows were whispering to him, louder and louder, but he couldn’t hear them. The sound rattled in his brain as he blinked. Once. Twice. His vision became more unfocussed.

With a final, shuddering breath, the world dissolved into darkness.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was a humming in his ear when Azriel came to, a light vibration he wasn’t familiar with. The ache in his body grew duller with every blink— his eyelids still heavy with pain, or exhaustion, he wasn’t quite sure. One of the same, he guessed. He let a moment pass, taking deep breaths as he oriented himself. He laid in a bed, soft white sheets placed upon him gingerly. Had Feyre tucked him in? He thought for a moment. Why would Feyre tuck him in?

Another moment passed. Azriel became aware of his clothing, his body still strapped in his illyrian leathers— leathers that were eerily clean. No smudges, no stains. Pushing himself upright, Azriel glanced around the room, his movements slow and unsteady. There was no one else in sight, no familiar faces to provide him with answers. He frowned, his brows knitting together in a puzzled expression. With a hesitant sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his muscles protesting at the sudden movement. He wavered for a moment, grasping for balance, before taking a cautious step forward.

He casted a casual glance towards the bed, rubbing his hands across his face in exhaustion as made a move towards the door, his thoughts scattered and disjointed. But then he stilled, his head quickly snapping back. Instead of an empty bed, Azriel's gaze fell upon his own body, lying prone and unmoving— paled, almost colorless, wings hanging limply at his sides. He blinked, a flicker of confusion and fear knitting his brows as he registered the scene before him.

“Quite strange, isn’t it?”

Azriel whipped his head around, his hand instinctively reaching for a dagger at his hip that he failed to find. His wings flared out angrily, fully extended with curled ends, each single claw at the apex poised and ready to strike. His eyes were wide as they focused on you.

You let out a quiet laugh, a gentle sound that caressed him like a comforting hand. He felt himself falter, a sense of confusion washing over him. Yet, within that confusion was a warmth that spread through him at your presence, at your voice— soft, like a faint ray of sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.

He fought the sudden urge to stand down, an odd sense of safety wrapping around him, unnerving him with the ease in which it filled him. He struggled back, pushing the feeling away. Stay guarded, stay ready, you are a threat. Yet even in his attempts, he recognized a slight release in the tension surrounding his shoulders, a small release in the stance of his wings– decisions he hadn’t consciously made. With his eyes still trained on you, his hand searched the side of his thigh, his hip, the backside of his waistband. He patted frantically, fingers itching to find a form of protection. When his search came up empty once more, he settled for holding his other hand out towards you in warning, his palm facing you as his body fell into a defensive stance. The blue siphon on his hand glowed aggressively.

The corners of your mouth tilted into a small smile. “You do that everytime.”

Azriel didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he narrowed his eyes as he properly took you in. He scanned your body; the way you stood comfortably in front of him, your hands clasped together, placed delicately in front of your waist. It almost hurt to look at you, he observed. He had to squint to make out your features. And when he did, he was hit with one thought: you were beautiful.

He cursed himself for recognizing it, for letting the thought echo in his head. You were a threat, he reminded himself, a stranger in his home. He was confused, disoriented, and yet you stood in front of him, presence dripping in a calm ease. You stared at him with a look he couldn’t discern, not when his mind was a muddled, confused, blurry mess. But the way you were looking, so expectant, so patient– it made him slightly nauseated.

“Who are you?” Azriel’s voice was loud and rough. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, a twitch in his wings, still extended wide. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Azriel scrambled for words, his head aching as he searched it for answers, for explanations. His confusion exposed him in a way that made him feel naked— at risk. None of it was right, not him standing over his own body, not him conversing with, what might possibly be, the most gorgeous female he’d ever seen, not the empty room around him. Was he dreaming? Was he being tortured?

You slowly lifted your hands in defense, remaining careful of how fast your movements were. “I’m not here to cause you any harm.”

A skeptical expression crossed his face. “Then why are you here?” He eyed you intently, his gaze scanning you as if sizing up a potential threat. His outstretched hand stayed unmoving, still on the defense. But you recognized a subtle shift in his posture, a slight calm flickering in his moving eyes.

Azriel was always the more difficult of the three to soothe. You had noticed this the last time, his wings shredded with ash arrows, his blood coating the floors beneath him. Even then, even through the exhaustion that bled into his unconscious mind– into his soul– he had fought you, acknowledged you with apprehension and distrust. You never blamed him, though. You understood. You would be fearful, confused, and defensive, too.

“I’m here to help you.”

Your voice was lower now than it was before. A soft murmur. He recognized the cadence, the words. It felt like a voice he’d heard before but couldn’t quite place.

"Who are you?" Azriel demanded as he frantically looked between his own body and you. He felt a sense of fear he wasn't accustomed to, a worry that either body would vanish were he to take his eyes away for too long. "What the hell is going on?"

You took a step forward as he turned to look upon his body, reaching an arm out to touch him, to begin to explain, when his head swiftly turned back to you. Azriel recoiled, taking a step away from you, his eyes scanning you again— wide and wild. There was a rustle as his wings mirrored his actions, still extended aggressively, unmoving. You quickly stilled, realizing your mistake of initiating contact too soon. Your brows furrowed as you gave him an apologetic smile. You took a step back, settling to stand a bit further from him than you were before.

Hazel eyes watched your every movement, his body tense as you fixed yourself into place, standing in front of him with the small smile still on your face– it reeked of pity, he thought. It didn’t feel right. No matter where he was, or who you were, he wasn’t supposed to be this off guard, this jumpy.

His face fell as the realization hit him: he couldn't feel them. His companions, his protectors, his shadows– there were no whisperings in his ear, no cool trail as they snaked around his body. He hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by you, by his lifeless form. The absence of his shadows explained this sudden vulnerability– he was receiving no information on you. No intel about who you were, what weapons you may have, who was around to witness. As quick as the realization settled into his stomach, Azriel called out to them. He dropped one of his hands lower as if to make it easier for them to find him, to reach him, but nothing came. No cool touch on his body, no whispers. Instead, silence enveloped him as he took notice of motion around him, black wisps of smoke scattered throughout the room.

You watched his movements, watched as he examined himself, as he craned his head to scan his body. "They can sense you," you explained, gesturing towards the shadows that seemed to be bouncing around, slithering on the ground like they were blind and confused. Some rested on his unmoving body, some around his feet, but not quite on him. His wings began to retract and slump as Azriel’s face slightly fell, his mouth open and brows furrowed.

He looked down, observing his hands tentatively. “Why aren’t they with me?” Azriel asked. His voice was slightly strained. He didn’t look up at you, his vision trained to his scarred hands, to the floor below him where shadows circled aimlessly. He felt an ache in his heart, a longing to be covered again, to be with them, to be protected. He felt too naked, stripped of every layer that protected him— no shadows, no intel, bare before you.

“Your shadows are sentient,” you explained, “they don’t die with you.”

His head snapped up, hazel eyes meeting yours instantly, widened with disbelief. "Die?" he repeated, his eyes scanning yours. "What do you mean die?"

In a slight moment of shock, Azriel took an unconscious step forward. His body tensed, and you watched as the rest of his frame followed suit, the muscles in his jaw clenching. There was an evident unease in his face, tension etched into his features.

You maintained a stillness, a deliberate choice not to intrude further, to remain respectful of his boundaries. Your gaze held a mixture of understanding and patience, offering him a moment to process the information without feeling overwhelmed. Then, you softly asked, “Where do you think you are, Azriel?”

His name sounded foreign on your tongue but he didn’t have the space to acknowledge it, instead rummaging through his other thoughts. He blinked, taking in your question. A dull ache in his head creeped up on him, but your voice soothed it instantly— soft, comforting.

"I... I don't know," he stammered, voice low and quiet, void of any assertion it held moments prior. His eyes darted back and forth, attempting to piece together fragments of memory. His wings now mirrored his defeated state– limp and listless, curled in, the membrane hanging dejectedly.

Sensing his growing distress, you adjusted your approach. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Your voice, smooth like honey and warm like tea, flowed through him. For a moment, he allowed it to sit, allowed it to spread, letting it calm him in a way that he was fighting before.

"I…" Azriel muttered to himself. Slowly, fragments of memory began to resurface, faint but discernible. He looked back at his body, examining it as if trying to find the missing pieces, memories popping up like distant echoes, flashing in the corners of his brain. The ache was back, slowly spreading throughout his head. “I was fighting.”

He looked back over his shoulder, twisting his body to peer at where his physical body lay in the bed, the colors of the room now registering with a strange clarity. Tandem disembodied flashbacks surged through his mind—flashes of fighting, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, and the cacophony of clashing weapons. Each image hit him like a sudden jolt, disjointed and chaotic.

In one fragment, he could almost feel the weight of a blade in his hand, the strain of muscles as he swung it in a frenzied dance. Another flash brought back the distant echoes of shouted commands, the clash of metal on metal, and the acrid scent of sweat and blood lingering in the air. The blurry memories continued, each scene disconnected yet vivid in its brutality. He shivered as the ghost of each sensation trailed his body, a twitch in his wings as he recalled the injuries they had sustained.

Then, a searing pain in his head, a sharp and sudden ache that brought him to his knees in his mind's eye. The pain lingered in his skull like a phantom sensation, and with it, a realization began to form. His eyes met yours with a cold, distant understanding. A wave of sadness hit you.

"I'm dead,” he stated, his voice quiet, “Aren't I?"

A sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Not yet," you clarified, taking a step to move closer, the movement slow and deliberate. "You're in between."

"In between? In between where?"

You took a moment to look at him, your gaze lingering on his face. His eyes were darker now, troubled, as he stared back at you. “Your body,” You started, gesturing towards his sleeping form to guide his attention back to where it lay, “It's still fighting.”

Azriel nodded slowly, taking in each of your words, digesting them, letting them sit. There was a shift in his expression—a solemn understanding replacing the earlier confusion he once held. You continued.

"Madja, she's a brilliant healer. She has brought back many from this same brink."

When Azriel looked back at you, you shifted your focus to his head, motioning with a gentle sweep of your hand, then directed your fingers towards your own temple. "And your mind," You said, "it's fighting too."

Azriel frowned. He was a soldier. He sustained many injuries before, had fought in battles that left him with gaping wounds, with his organs rearranged. This was nothing new— so why was this different? Had he always been out this long?

You watched him intently, observing the way his thoughts seemed to churn beneath the surface, how he began to blink rapidly, how his brow furrowed. He was still confused– you could feel it. You let out a small sigh, running your eyes across his face.

"The injury you sustained was worse than any you've ever had," you explained, your voice steady. Flashes of his memories interjected—him fighting, soaring into the air only to be shot down, engaging in combat once again, his head colliding with something hard, the sickening sound of a crunch. "Not only to your body but to your head. You cracked your skull open completely, Azriel. The trauma of the infliction itself… well, let's say it damaged your brain. Heavily."

As Azriel looked directly at you, his hazel eyes glazed over with deep contemplation. He nodded absentmindedly, "Okay.” He said. He looked over to his unmoving form again.

With his attention fixated on his proper body, you took the time to observe him more closely, scanning his face and his body, taking in the details of his fighting leathers. Azriel was a vision— your favorite male to visit, your favorite soul to see. You can’t remember the first time you saw him, the first time he laid on a bed, a grasp away from death. You suppose it was centuries ago, when he first became a soldier. But even then, time escaped you.

Your gaze wandered to the wings adorning his back, now freed from their earlier alarmed nature, not fully extended but not fully kept back. You thought back to their wide and impressive extended form, the membrane between each robust wing bearing a faint sheen, casting a subtle shimmer in the ambient light. Even now they were mesmerizing– the leathery texture, the powerful structure, the way they naturally framed his form. The tips of the expansive wings curved slightly, giving Azriel an imposing yet graceful appearance, even among current circumstances. Azriel's voice brought you back to attention.

"So I'm stuck here?"

"For now." You responded, your voice carrying a gentle reassurance. The look on his face, only beginning to finally process his reality, pushed you to postpone any further explanations. Time was not an issue, not now.

"And you are..." Azriel's voice trailed off.

"Y/n," you answered.

He let the name sink in, repeating it with a slow, deliberate pace, "Y/n."

“Yes.” You nodded.

“And you’re here to help me.”

Another nod. “Yes.”

He rolled his shoulders as something that resembled a skeptical scowl slowly made its way through his face. Then, Azriel squinted his eyes at you. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

You couldn't help it—a small laugh escaped you, echoing softly in the room. The sound made Azriel jolt back slightly, caught off guard. Dying it down with a small, genuine smile on your face, you caught Azriel’s uncomfortable gaze, his wings now extended slightly, the corners of his lips downturned in confusion.

"I’m- I’m sorry,” You said, clearing your throat. “It's just... you are curious this time around.”

Azriel's hazel eyes widened in shock, his brows furrowing in confusion. "This– this time around?” His eyes rapidly scanned your face with a deep intensity. Faintly, he recalled your earlier comment, the laugh when you said that he reacted the same way every time. “Have we met before?"

You offered him a small smile as you said, "Many times.”

Azriel let out a deep breath. Here he stood, suspended between life and something else entirely, facing someone who knew him in a way that he couldn’t even remember. A sense of anxiety filled his chest. He wished for his shadows now, for them to wrap themselves around his arms, around his neck, to offer some calm. He searched you for any sign of deception, looked at the way your eyes followed him, the stance that you held. But all he found was a sense of sincerity and tenderness.

“Your family tends to face death a lot more than others in Prythian,” you explained, “You and your brothers especially."

At the mention of his brothers, Azriel's heart dropped, a heaviness settling in his chest. Thoughts of his family rushed in—wondering who had found him, the worry that surely gripped them. He straightened up, a sense of urgency urging him to survey his surroundings. His family… His gaze moved beyond you, taking in the details of the room. It was his guest suite in the River House, the room he’d stay in when he came to visit Rhysand and Feyre, the room they would drag him into when he needed to rest or heal. It was his room. Yet, there were no sounds of people, no familiar voices—just the quiet emptiness that surrounded him, surrounded you both. Surely they would be near him, Azriel thought, Madja at the least.

"Where is everyone?" He asked, still scanning the room. He walked towards the large windows, taking in the nighttime view, gorgeous and still— mountains covered in snow, a city lit by moonlight.

“Here, it's just you," you said gently.

Azriel turned to face you once more, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. He didn’t ask for any further explanation, a sense of exhaustion heavily weighing on him. His eyes bore into yours. "And you. You exist here too.”

“I do.”

He took a step towards you, wings rustling in their position behind his back. Azriel scanned your face, hazel eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and weariness. He wasn’t afraid of you, didn’t believe you were a threat– not anymore, at least. But you were still here, in this state of existence that only he was in.

“Why?”

The question was pure curiosity, not a hint of distrust or malice within it. You observed him, noting how he seemed to have settled, the tension in his frame easing. Instead, a subtle sadness lingered, a reflection of longing. Azriel loved his family, this much you knew. He was a devoted male, devoted to serving those he loved, devoted to his position, to his duties. Of course he was missing his family. Your heart ached.

"I'm here to help," you assured, "I’m to stay while you heal, or until–"

“Until I stop…” Azriel finished the sentence, a quiet acceptance in his voice. "And then you guide me."

You were taken aback as Azriel's hazel eyes locked onto yours, a moment of realization passing between you. Usually, it was you who revealed your purpose to those you reaped, explaining the meaning of your duties, easing their worries. You blinked, your head tilting back slightly as you clasped your hands together. Azriel continued, stating with a quiet certainty, "You're a reaper."

You nodded, titling your head as you took in his face, his brows slightly knitted. “I am.”

You weren’t supposed to be doing this. In situations like these, where they were stuck between the life before and the life after, you were to leave them in peace– wait until they decided or their body decided for them. It was never intended for you to stay with them during the waiting period, to keep them company. No, this was something you felt inclined to do. You couldn’t leave Azriel if you wanted to, it felt wrong— and you didn’t want to. Not one bit.

"You weren't what I expected," Azriel admitted.

Azriel had a faint idea of your kind, of your duties. He heard accounts of near-death experiences, tales of encountering a radiant light, foggy memories and beliefs of meeting a beautiful entity—whatever that meant. He always wrote them off as distant narratives, existing in the realms of folklore and imagination. He would have never imagined something like you – something so… delicate.

Curiosity lingered in your gaze as you asked, "What did you expect?"

"I don't know," Azriel replied honestly, his head beginning to throb and ache again. A hand instinctively rose to the back of his scalp, fingers rubbing at the tension that surfaced. The ache radiated through his skull as he massaged his hairline. You recognized the discomfort with a small frown, playing with your hands as you observed him for a moment.

"Azriel,” You spoke, drawing his attention back to you, “I'm going to give you some time to process everything. Explore, think. When you're ready, and if you want to, you can find me then."

Azriel looked at you, uncertainty drawn across his features. "How will I know where you are?”

"You’ll know.” A soft smile played on your lips as you reassured him. “Trust me.”

As you left, Azriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the quiet expanse embrace him.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were right. Azriel knew exactly where to find you. How we knew, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even aware of how he got to you, how he managed to move. One moment he was wandering, taking in the quiet halls of the house, the next he was thinking of you, seeking you out— and then he was here, watching you.

It was dark out still, a fresh night breeze in the air. Azriel stood for a moment, taking in his surroundings—a small clearing nestled between two towering mountains covered in snow. The landscape was rugged, the terrain too harsh to be in the vicinity of Velaris. Somewhere beyond the borders of Illyria, he concluded. He turned his focus back to you. Draped in a simple cream-colored dress, you stood at the edge of the clearing, your silhouette softly illuminated by the glow of the full moon that hung in the sky. The moonlight painted the terrain around you with a soft, silvery hue, casting long shadows that danced across the uneven ground.

“Hi, Azriel.” The words left your mouth before you turned your head to look at him. When your eyes met his, you gave him a smile. He faltered for a moment.

“Hello… Y/n.” He said your name quietly, adding it onto his greeting tentatively, as if he was testing how it felt on his tongue. He liked it, he decided. It tasted sweet.

You turned your head back to the view in front of you, and Azriel took it as an unspoken invitation. Slowly, he found himself walking towards you, the snow crunching beneath his boots. You both stood in silence, and Azriel found a sense of calm rolling through him. Taking a deep breath, he let his wings unfurl slightly, not having noticed the tension they had been carrying, tucked tightly behind him.

Azriel turned to gaze at you. You stood still, eyes trained forward on the view before you. Your focus prompted him to take in the sight once more, bringing his attention back to the vast expanse ahead.

"Where are we?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

It was now your turn to look at him, to observe the side of his face as he looked forward. The faint glow of the moonlight casted shadows on the contours of his face. He looked almost holy, something devout and ethereal. "You don’t recognize it?”

Your question led to a contemplative frown creasing his brow and he turned his head, taking in the soft smile on your face. “Should I?”

You turned your body fully to face him, craning your head to look up at him. There was a subtle shift in his expression as your eyes met. You nodded toward the view, a gentle encouragement.

“Look again.”

And he did.

Then, his gaze softened, a hint of recognition flickering in his eyes. Azriel's shoulders fell, a subtle release of tension, and his wings shuddered softly. "I used to come here," he said quietly, "A long time ago… I used to come here."

His eyes shifted between you and the view. You met his gaze, nodding in silent understanding, leaving a space of silence that invited him to continue talking if he desired to— if he was comfortable.

"I found it flying one night," he continued. His memories now seemed to dance in his mind, distant yet vivid, a time before Amarantha, before Koshei. A faint smile ghosted his lips. “I'd find time between missions to come here and just breathe. Now I could never validate wasting time to be here, doing nothing."

You let out a small hum. “Taking time to breathe is never a waste.”

Azriel turned to look at you. "How did you..."

"Know about this?" you finished for him. He nodded.

You smiled, the expression warm and animated. Holding your arms in front, one hand cradling each elbow, you continued, "I could feel it. Part of our duty," your voice carried a gentle honesty. "The Mother helps us to find your peace."

Azriel's gaze scanned you again, a subtle curiosity in his eyes. His attention shifted to your arms, and then to the snow-covered surroundings. "Are you cold?" he asked, concern lacing his words. Instinctively, he placed a hand on your bicep, but quickly retracted it when he registered the movement.

You kept your gaze locked with his, unfazed. "No," you replied calmly, and then added, "Neither are you."

Azriel blinked, and then he looked down at himself, his eyes scanning his own body, his arms. He wasn’t cold. He thought back to every time he had visited this place, this lookout. Being so high up made the air nippy, made the breeze cold– he always wore an extra layer. But here he stood, alongside you, and all he could feel was a sense of warmth. Interesting. It was all so interesting to him.

Azriel nodded to himself, turning to face forward again. He traced the tops of the snow-covered mountains, the valley below. You remained sideways for a moment, watching him as he processed the image before him. Another moment passed and then you, too, turned to face forward, mirroring his contemplative posture.

“So, what does it all mean?” He asked, his voice a low murmur.

You stilled, rubbing your lips together as you took in his question. You glanced to the side, his eyes still trained before him. It wasn’t the view he was talking about, you knew this. He was asking the question many before him had, wondering about the purpose of life, the answer to their troubles. You thought for a moment, pondering on what to tell him. There were no right responses here— at least, none that you thought would satisfy him. So, you answered from your heart.

“Does it have to mean something?”

Azriel’s head turned to you. “Yes,” He said, all too fast. It had to mean something. His entire existence, his suffering, every life he had taken— it had to mean something. He needed it to mean something. The agony he had lived with, the anger he wore as second skin, it was all for something… for some reason. He needed it to be. So he continued, “It has to.”

You studied him, watching the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the weight of his gaze lingering on you— there was something in his eyes, a sense of desperation, of fear. You took a deep breath, and then you offered an understanding smile.

“Then it means whatever you need it to mean.”

Azriel frowned.

“That isn’t an answer.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him for a moment before you responded. “Well,” You said, "Perhaps you asked the wrong question.”

“What do you mean?” His brows knitted together, forming a furrowed line of confusion on his forehead. Faintly, in the back of his head, an ache gnawed at him.

Facing each other now, you maintained eye contact as he looked at you intently. “Ask me what you really want to, Azriel.”

”I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was a tinge of frustration in his voice, delicately mixed into the confusion that laced it.

You simply shrugged, giving him a close-mouthed smile. “You will.”

In normal circumstances, your elusive answers would have driven him crazy— he would be suspicious of you, find a sense of guilt in your failure to give proper, concrete responses. But he wasn’t in a normal circumstance, and you weren’t a threat. These were two things he knew, now, for sure. So he took your answers, as ambiguous as they were, and let them sit with him in the comfortable, cool, silence.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel found you again by the Sidra, walking along the cobblestone streets of Velaris. It was the same again, him being able to find you without so much as a second guess. It was daytime now, he noticed. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow onto the city streets, filling his body with a comfortable, familiar, warmth. A few steps ahead of him, you stilled, turning around gracefully to face him.

“Hello Azriel.”

He stopped, making a motion to look around as if he were to find someone else, another person you might be referring to. Quickly he remembered that it was just you and him in this plane, in this form of his existence. He cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” He greeted, with a small nod of his head.

He walked towards you, stopping into place in front of you, a few feet ahead. The sunlight hit your back, creating a soft, radiant glow around your silhouette– it outlined your figure, forming a subtle halo around your head that seemed to blend with the warmth of the sun. It almost looked as if the sunlight itself was embracing you, framing your presence with a touch of radiance. Azriel took a moment to admire it.

He realized seconds later that he’d stared for too long, that you were now gazing up at him expectantly, eyes scanning his face.

Azriel wasn’t much of a talker, not around strangers, and sometimes not even his own family. It was never that he didn’t have things to say— quite the opposite, really. Az thought about everything, and he thought about it all very deeply. He had too much to say, too much that he’d observed. But now, in front of you, his mind was drawing blanks. He thought back to how, not long ago, you both stood on a snowy mountain, looking into the comfortable darkness of the night. How time worked here, with you, he didn’t know. It didn’t bother him, however, not like it did when he first woke up. In fact, he had begun to enjoy it. To enjoy how free it was, how there were no rules, no expectations, no missions.

Azriel paused, his thoughts swirling, and then, almost as if caught off guard by his own words, he blurted out, "I would like to show you something."

You blinked in surprise, your mouth parting slightly as your heart seemed to skip a beat, carefully falling back into a rhythmic melody. A smile spread across your features– a broad, teeth-revealing smile. The corners of Azriel’s lips turned up in response. If you didn’t know any better, you would have described the smile as almost awkward in its delivery. Though modest, it still held a certain beauty as it graced his face. The lines that had once etched across his features seemed to smooth out, replaced by silent calm evident in the softening of his gaze, the subtle curve of that smile. Your own smile settled into a close-lipped one, and you gently pulled your bottom lip with your teeth before nodding your head.

“Lead the way, Azriel," you said, and he began walking, but not without a quick glance back at you, ensuring you were following his lead. As you walked beside him at a comfortable pace, his wings fanned out comfortably. Their immense size allowed them to extend behind you, and even though you walked at his pace, you could feel their presence above you.

The streets of Velaris unfolded before you as you walked alongside Azriel. You took it all in– the beauty of the city, its intricate architecture and vibrant atmosphere. It was always a pleasure to experience it, to breathe in its life. Even amidst the circumstances that brought you here, there was a sense of appreciation for the privilege of experiencing such a place. A sense of jealousy welled up within you. Envy for those who could lead a normal life here— those who could wake up, take a walk by the Sidra, greet their friends in the morning light. It all seemed so mundane, so easy. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to give it the air to breathe, the space to fester. You looked towards Azriel.

“Where are we going?” You asked, as you both rounded a corner into a small alleyway. The space was narrow, causing you to fall into line behind him, your vision focusing on his wings. They were beautiful before, in the nighttime glow, but seeing them in such close proximity, with the sun casting through their membranes, it was a different experience. Such beautiful, beautiful things, you thought. You ached to run your fingertips across them.

He responded over his shoulder, "Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

You sensed a slight playful tone in his voice, letting out a small laugh at his question.

"That's not how it works," you replied, "I'm not The Mother."

Azriel stopped for a moment, causing you to skitter to a stop as well. He looked back, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he uttered a simple "huh."

You suddenly felt a vulnerability settling in, an awkward awareness of yourself and your proximity to him. Before it could fully take hold, Azriel resumed walking and you followed. The alleyway began to open up to a bigger road, allowing the space for you both to begin walking side by side once more.

"Azriel,” You said, casting a glance up at him, “If you're leading me to some private area to kill me, I hate to tell you that it won't work."

He stopped, and then craned his head down to look at you. A nervous flutter danced in your chest as a sense of self-consciousness crept in. What a stupid joke to make, you thought. What if he believed you were making a crude reference to his duties as a spymaster– assuming the worst of him and his abilities? Had you inadvertently touched on a sensitive subject in an attempt at humor? You weren't friends, you reminded yourself, there was still an expectation of professionalism to uphold. Azriel looked at you for a moment. And then another.

And then, he laughed. The sound, small and amused, radiated through your chest. You awkwardly joined in, unsure if your joke had landed or if it was something else entirely.

"Why would I kill the one who will bring me peace?" he asked, his words delivered with a touch of sincerity.

You let out a breath, taking in his face, the hazel of his eyes as he stared down at you. You smiled back at him, letting out another laugh, this time more certain and lighthearted. "Right, that would be foolish of you.”

You knew that Azriel was talking about your duties, about the job of a Reaper, not you specifically. But for a moment, you let yourself live in a fantasy, one where you weren't simply The Mother’s hand, where you didn’t only exist here, in a space where no one remembered you.

Azriel beckoned you to walk into the bigger street. It was only a few more steps before you stopped, taking in the sight of a quaint shop before you, adorned with small tables and chairs, surrounded by hanging plants and flowers. The window boasted a delicately hand-painted logo: Fillings & Emulsions.

Azriel took notice of the silence surrounding you both, no hum of the usual Velaris life, no laughter, no murmured distant conversations. Yet, the shop still smelled like its usual self— a sweet, buttery aroma of delicate treats and pastries. Azriel breathed it in with a smile. He opened the door, a small jingle sounding above him where a tiny bell rang. He held it open for you to enter.

Your gaze swept across the interior, taking in the small tables and the glass display filled with pastries of various shapes and colors. Behind the counter, loaves of bread sat neatly on wooden shelves.

"I like coming here, when I have the time."

Wandering around and exploring the cozy pastry shop, your gaze casually shifted towards Azriel, who remained by the doorway. "You're a dessert person?" you asked as you continued to meander through the charming space.

“Sometimes,” Azriel replied, walking further into the store. He looked around, taking in the familiar environment, the comforting decor. “But they have these sour candies that I love. They come in this little gold box-”

“You mean these?”

Now behind the counter, you turned around to face him, a small delicate gold box in your hand. The plastic cover revealed 12 small square gummies nestled inside, each in their own white wrapper. You looked up at him for confirmation. Azriel met your eyes before his gaze traveled down to your hands.

“Yes,” he breathed, a small smile forming on his lips, “Those.”

You smiled at the response, slowly making your way back around the counter, a few feet away from where he stood. You surveyed the store, eyes bouncing to the different tables and mismatched chairs. “Where do you usually sit?”

“I, uh, I don’t.” Azriel cleared his throat. “I never have the time. And when I do, I usually just head home.”

Azriel didn’t explain further, didn’t tell you his real reasons. It was true, he usually didn’t have time to sit and leisurely enjoy a box of candies. But when he did, he was often too afraid to stay in the store itself.

Azriel knew he called attention, that his wings stuck out in stark contrast against the gentle streets of the city, the quiet hum of life. He’d conditioned himself to appear smaller when walking around, to avoid direct eye contact so as to not intimidate those he passed. But even then, his presence was offputting– he’d catch citizens avoiding him, creating more distance between them or switching to the opposite side of the street. It was part of the job, he told himself. He was a large male, fully aware of how terrifying his stature could be, how frightening his own wings could be— especially when fully extended. Not even to mention his scarred hands, ones that he was sure fae could imagine easily drenched in the blood of his enemies. He wore gloves when he could. He wasn’t ashamed of them– his hands– not as much as before, but he was always acutely aware. Aware that they weren’t normal, that they drew attention, that for the comfort of others, he hid them away.

He came to, his thoughts slowly dissipating as he registered his surroundings once more, his gaze landing on you. You looked at him with a small curiosity in your eyes.

“Well,” You said, taking a glance around, “Would you like to sit now?”

“I would.” He nodded, offering a small smile that carried a touch of timidity. It wasn't like before, no uncertainty or awkwardness, but rather a gentle expression that hinted at a reserved warmth.

“Inside or outside?”

Azriel looked over his shoulder, towards the small door and the seating outside.

“Outside,” he replied.

A hum of agreement escaped your lips as you gave him a smile, taking a step to the side in order to walk around him, leading the way. The gentle jingle of the little doorbell echoed delicately as you stepped outside.

Azriel followed you, watching as you approached a small steel table. The white paint was chipped, flaking off at certain areas of the legs, but you didn’t seem to mind. The air felt crisp and clean, rays of sunshine peeking through alleyways and the tips of the stores that lined the street. Azriel took a moment to breathe it in, savoring the clarity that hung in the atmosphere, the silence. You pulled out your chair, the movement emitting a small screech as it slid against the cobblestones. Azriel walked to the table, standing opposite of you, and carefully took a seat.

As you slowly opened the box, Azriel adjusted himself in the seat. It was small, the steel back stiff and straight, making it hard for him to sit comfortably with his wings. After a small struggle, he settled into a position sitting up right, wings draping across each side of the chair. The frustration melted away as he took in his surroundings once more. He felt a certain peace he’d never felt before. A lightness in his movements, in his touch. The fresh air kissed his skin, a soft breeze whispered into his ears, threading itself through his hair.

“Is it always like this?” He asked.

You pulled the lid off the box, casting a glance up at him. Azriel’s head was turned sideways, his gaze following the curve of the streets.

“Like what?”

He looked at you, catching your eye. His face held a graceful calmness, brows slightly furrowed, and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With a soft, velvety tone, he replied, "This peaceful."

Turning to the side, you quickly scanned over the streets, registering the simple beauty that surrounded you both. Turning back to him, a tender smile played on your lips.

“Yes,” you replied, “It is.”

Azriel's response was a simple silent contemplation. Leaning back with a subtle adjustment for comfort, his wings gently folded and his gaze fixed on the table. Azriel loved Velaris. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the peace of an empty city that graced him now. Sitting with you now, at a small table by the streets, was something he was never able to do— not truly, not to this extent. He held the feeling close.

"Which are your favorites?"

Your voice pulled Azriel back to reality. He blinked, and then he looked at you.

"The green ones.”

You picked up one of the green candies nestled in white wrapping and offered it to him. Your hands briefly touched as he gently accepted the candy from you. You felt the texture of his skin against yours, the small ridges formed by the scarred tissue that extended to his fingers.

Azriel waited for it– the expected recoil from unintended contact, his body having been naturally accustomed to jump at the slightest of touches. However, this time, there was no involuntary withdrawal, no rush of icy embarrassment.

He was always so careful of his touch with Elain, acutely aware of how his hands looked against her immaculate skin. Although he refused to admit it, it bothered him deeply, how obvious it made his differences appear. Yet, that caution wasn’t found now, in his movements with you. Instead, a sense of certainty filled him, a gentle nudge to his heart, a contentedness with himself and his presence. You were beautiful, graceful, kind– and he didn’t feel guilt when touching you, didn’t feel as if he were about to taint something too beautiful for his hands.

You observed him as he stared at his hands, now resting on the table, the candy still in between his fingers. With a small movement, you gently cupped the side of one of them with your palm.

“Azriel,” You softly said, pulling his attention to you. “They didn’t feel this type of peace— didn’t feel peace at all, actually.”

Azriel stayed quiet, his gaze now trained on where your hand touched his. You pulled your hand back, and Azriel's gaze followed. Then, almost imperceptibly, the hazel of his eyes brightened. There was something about the way you spoke to him, about how kind your voice was. They didn’t feel peace. Your words rang in his head, a wave of relief passing through his body. It healed a part of him that he swore was broken, warmed his body like a summer's eve. He gave you a small smile.

You worried for a moment that you had forced thoughts onto him, ones that harbored pain and loneliness. But you felt it in your gut, a need to tell him, to let him know that they had suffered the way they deserved— that his hands were solely a part of him, a body part, natural. And from his response, it seemed as if he understood what you were saying, and most importantly, that it resonated with him the way you wished it to. You returned your attention to the sour candies before you.

"Can I ask why you like these so much?"

Azriel looked at you, a close-mouthed smile forming. His eyes crinkled a bit, and then he explained, "My mother used to give me candies just like this when I was able to see her. I never figured out how she got them. She..." He trailed off, readjusting how he was sitting. His gaze met yours as he finished, "That's why."

You could sense the sadness now evident in his face, his wings rolling in closer to his body. You let out a small breath as a sudden pang of sympathy hit you.

"Let's talk about something else," you suggested, subtly shifting the focus as you played with the edges of the candy box

Azriel leaned forward quickly, his hand reaching out to gently rest on yours before either of you had the chance to register the movement. "It's alright,” he said softly. “I'd like to talk about this. I don't talk about her much.”

Your gaze lingered on his hand touching yours, on the warmth that spread through your skin at the contact. Be professional, you reminded yourself. This is not real.

With a genuine smile, you nodded, careful not to move a muscle, not wanting to disrupt the moment, to risk the chance of him retracting his hand. "Then please, I'd love to hear.”

And so he did. Azriel spoke of his mother, of growing up admiring her long hair and the way she smelled of pine and snow. He realized that he had never talked so much about himself, never shared such intimate details about his life. He realized, too, that he quite liked it. He liked talking to you. He liked you.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Days and nights had passed, Azriel was sure of it, but he was never tired, never slept. Time worked so differently here– he wasn’t aware of it passing, wasn’t aware of what he’d done the day before or even hours prior. All he was aware of was the peace in his heart, how it radiated throughout his body, relieving him of centuries worth of tension. Amidst it all was you, a companion Azriel had grown to enjoy— to adore, if he was being honest with himself.

You were kind and patient, welcoming in a way that had him opening up to you, telling you stories that he’d never dared to share with anyone else. There was no fear of being vulnerable here, with you, no threat he had to worry about, no anxiety regarding a new enemy or an evil to defeat. It was all so easy.

Azriel walked through the hallways of the House of Wind, taking in the familiar sense of home that filled it, the beauty of the sun-warmed stone. He found himself outside of his own room, staring in at the space. It was strange to think that his body, his real body, lay in another bedroom, in another home— in a form of existence that he no longer held. It was all so very strange. But he didn’t mind, not anymore.

He felt you before he heard you, a gentle breeze fanning over him, a smell of sweetness filling his nose. He turned to face you, taking in your presence, the cream dress that adorned your figure. It was there again, the subtle halo around your head, framed by faint rays of sunlight.

“Hello, Azriel.” You greeted with a large smile. He mirrored the gesture almost instantly.

“Hello, y/n.”

You took a few steps forward, craning your head to peer into the room behind him, past the doorway he stood under.

“Is this your room?”

“Yes,” He said, taking a step aside to allow for you to pass him as you entered. “One of many. My family, they have many places to call home.”

“Do you miss them?” You asked, casting a glance over your shoulder as you moved around his room, “Your family, I mean.”

Azriel stilled for a moment. He hadn’t thought of them as much as he would have expected, a part of him felt guilty for not being as heartbroken. He did miss his family– he was worried about them, about how they were doing, if his help was needed. But he didn’t feel a rush to return to his life, no nauseating need to fix his current situation, to be healed and awake.

“Yes.” He replied. He watched as you walked around, carefully taking in your surroundings. His room wasn’t very interesting— simple decorations that had already been placed before he took residence, various random books.

“Where do you disappear to?” Azriel asked.

You turned to look at him, taking him in for the first time since you entered. It was still there, you noticed, the sense of calm on his face, the evidence of a serene ease. His eyes held a lightness that you’d seen grow since he first came to you. His shoulders were relaxed, his wings comfortably fanned out behind him in an open and unhurried sprawl.

To do your job, you thought. The duties of a Reaper. Visiting souls in distress, leading them to their peace swiftly– efficiently. Not staying with them, not keeping them company. No, those were things you’d reserved for Azriel. You only hoped that The Mother wasn’t angry, that your affinity for him didn’t disrupt a delicate balance.

“As much as I enjoy our time together, I still have duties to fulfill,” You replied. “Did you miss me?”

You intended for it to be a joke, a lighthearted comment that would make him laugh– a melodic sound you had gotten used to recently, one that you savored and replayed in your mind. Yet Azriel’s eyes met yours with a serious gaze.

“Yes,” He answered, his voice sincere. “I did.”

Something in your chest fluttered and your mouth parted, a pleasant shiver rolling through your body. There was a small heat that rose to your cheeks. For a moment, you looked at the floor, composing yourself before meeting his gaze again. A genuine smile graced your lips as you softly admitted, "I missed you, too."

A few moments later, you walked along Azriel as he shared stories about his home, his brothers, and the various experiences he'd had, absorbing each narrative with hungry ears. It was a beautiful thing to see, Azriel open and laughing, the smile on his lips as he recalled favorite memories. This house, The House of Wind as Azriel had called it, was filled with life– his life. You could feel it everywhere as you walked. There was a small tug at your heart. He had a life. A beautiful, real life.

Eventually, you both stopped at a large window, the outside world spread before you in a breathtaking view. Azriel found his gaze dropping to the streets below, devoid of the usual bustling life he was used to. Faintly, a small ache hit the back of his head. He blinked it away. Then, he frowned slightly, a realization hitting him that he didn’t enjoy seeing the streets empty– that something felt missing. He turned to look at you, brows furrowed.

"Do you ever get lonely?"

The question lingered in the air for a moment, stealing the air from your lungs. Why it seemed to strike, you couldn’t tell, but it left a burn in its wake. You let out a deep breath as you looked up at Azriel.

“The Mother blessed me with a duty that is fulfilling.”

Azriel looked at you, studying your response. A sense of sadness filled him, a gentle ache in his heart at the idea, at the image of you alone, wandering the empty streets. Softly, he spoke, "That's not what I asked."

A wave of emotion washed over you. There was a sanctity to your duties, to the job that you held. You were honored to help The Mother, to be the one that granted such peace. You never knew that you could feel such longing, such a desire to be someone else, something else, until you met Azriel the first time he crossed. And then the time after. And now.

"Yes, Azriel,” you admitted, “I do.”

As you both stood in the quiet moment, the stunning view from the window still visible in your peripheral vision, you looked at Azriel. You took in his details—the tousle of his hair, the gleam in his eyes—committing the scene to memory. This was an image you wanted to save forever, one of him so close, so connected.

Azriel broke the silence with another question, "Why do you do that? Say my name so often?"

You didn’t realize that the frequency in which you used his name was noticeable. It rolled off your tongue so easily, so naturally. You thought about it for a moment, thought about the feeling you got before you said it.

"Would you prefer me to call you by something else?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as you observed Azriel's expressions. "Shadowsinger, or Spymaster?"

His response was immediate and he took a step forward as he spoke. "No," Azriel said, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I-I like it."

You smiled at him. "I suppose I do it to make sure you feel seen."

A flicker of confusion crossed Azriel's face, his brows knitting together. "Seen?"

"To show you that you're not just what you do," you explained, your voice carrying a quiet sincerity. Your words trailed off softly. A beat passed, and then you added, "At least not to me."

In his hundreds of years of life, Azriel was never seen. He had been perceived, observed, even known, but never truly seen. Not like the way you looked at him, the way you allowed him to breathe, allowed him to exist as nothing more than simply Azriel.

Your gaze held seemed to see beyond the layers he had meticulously built around himself for so long, beyond the titles and responsibilities that often defined him. For the first time, he felt a sense of vulnerability mingled with relief—a feeling of being understood in a way he hadn't experienced before, in a way he never felt he deserved. A warmth spread through his body, starting from the pit of his stomach and radiating outward, enveloping him in a comforting embrace.

Without even realizing it, his hand moved towards you, lifting a strand of your hair and gently holding it between his scarred fingers. In the past, he would have hesitated to touch another person so intimately, but in this moment, there was no hesitation, no sense of reluctance, only a pull to you and you only. Was this part of what it meant to be a Reaper? He wondered, to cause such comfort in those you kept company? To make them feel like this?

He watched the way the strand of hair caught the light, twirling it between his fingers with a tenderness he had never known himself capable of. He met your eyes, slightly widened, observing him intently. With a soft smile, Azriel spoke, "I see you too, Y/n.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

His view was filled with rolling hills, vibrant in green hues, a gentle afternoon sun in the sky. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of babbling brooks and streams, a soothing melody that seemed to blend seamlessly with the rustle of the wind through the grass, through the leaves of the trees that surrounded you. Azriel understood why Mor was so fond of her estate, why she ran off to it when she could. If it was surrounded with views like this, with such quiet life, beautiful life, he would escape to it, too. Beside him, you lay on the soft grass, your hair spread out around you like a halo.

Despite the open air, Azriel felt groggy, his eyelids heavier than they’d felt in a while. Something felt strange, a trickling sense of anxiety within his body. The wind in his hair and the air on his arms, on his wings, didn’t feel the same— it wasn’t as lively, wasn’t as strong. There was a sharp throb in the back of his head, sending a sudden wave of pain crashing over him. He grimaced and let out a low groan.

Instinctively, you jumped up at the sound, angling your body to face him, concern painting your features. Your heart dropped as you watched him bring a hand to the back of his head, brows furrowed in discomfort.

Amidst pained groans, Azriel turned to you with a frown. "I’m sorry. I just- I keep having these horrible headaches.”

You let out a small breath.

"It's because you're healing," you murmured softly, your voice tinged with sorrow. Your gaze lingered on him, sadness flickering across your features. When Azriel’s eyes met yours, you quickly blinked away any evidence of it, calling forward a gentle, unassuming, face.

His hand dropped slowly from the back of his head. "I am?" he echoed.

You extended your hand, hovering it gently over the back of his head where his hand had been moments ago. "This is where you damaged your skull," you explained softly,. "The injury that got you... Well, here. With me." Your gaze swept around the tranquil surroundings, a small, bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Any progress in your physical body, you feel here too," you continued, your voice tender yet matter-of-fact. "The ache is calling you back."

"Back to my life," Azriel murmured, the words barely audible as they slipped from his lips, softening and fading before they fully formed.

You nodded, a lump in the back of your throat.

Azriel's expression shifted abruptly, a flash of tension replacing the settled calmness that had graced his face for quite some time now. "I don't want to go back," he said. It was a tone of voice you’d never heard from him before, a sense of desperation that didn’t fit him.

You shook your head gently. "You don't mean that.”

But Azriel remained resolute. Moving closer, he reached out, his hand coming to rest atop yours on your thigh. "I do," he insisted, his tone unwavering. “Y/n, I do.”

“Azriel,” You said sternly. “You have a life waiting for you, a long life.”

“But I’m so tired. All the time,Y/n” he admitted, his voice heavy with weariness. “And this,” he gestured around him, his eyes lingering on the rolling green hills, "this is the most at peace I’ve ever felt."

You felt a selfish impulse, a desire to indulge in his fantasy, to urge him to stay, to fight against the inevitable pull back to reality. But you knew it wasn't fair, that it wasn’t right. If you truly cared for someone, you had to be fair to them. And you cared for Azriel– cared for him in a way you’d never felt before.

“But it’s not real,” you interjected softly, leaning in, your brows furrowed, your forehead creased with concern. "This isn’t a life.This isn’t a reality— this is an in-between. Sooner or later, you will find yourself on one end.”

Azriel couldn’t understand. His heart hurt. Why weren’t you agreeing with him? Why weren’t you telling him to stay, convincing him it was worth it? This peace he felt with you, this quiet life you lived, he could stay. He would stay.

“You’re real,” he whispered, his voice tinged with desperation. “And right now, this...” he trailed off, his gaze sweeping over your face, "this feels real to me.”

You took a deep breath, feeling knots tightening in your stomach, a lump forming in your throat. You swallowed down the words you wanted to say, replacing the ones on your tongue with those he needed to hear.

"I'm a Reaper," you said, reminding him of the inevitable separation it entailed. His eyes, a dark, almost sad brown, met yours. “Reapers aren’t meant to stay.”

The knots in your stomach were twisting now, weaving themselves through your ribs. It was hard for you to breathe, hard for you to look at Azriel as he stared at you with such clear hurt on his face. He couldn’t stay. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t the plan. Azriel was going to return to a life where he would not remember you, a life in which you didn’t exist. And you would remain here, waiting in a form of existence that had no time.

"Your family misses you," you continued, your gaze unwavering as you locked eyes with him. The knots now wrapped around your heart, squeezing. "You still have things to do. They need you. You need them."

Surely your heart was about to burst, the pressure in your chest now overwhelming– crushing you, your heartbeat erratic.

“Come with me.” Azriel said.

You let out a small breath, a soft laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his suggestion. It sounded so simple, so easy, but you knew better. It wasn't that simple, life was never that easy. You were a Reaper. He was a soul. Before you could respond, Azriel continued, his voice still gentle but earnest.

"You'll love them. And you'll love Velaris when it is filled with people. With life."

His eyes bore into you, seemingly searching for something, trying to memorize every contour of your face, every flicker of emotion that danced across your features.

"I can't," you replied softly, your heart heavy with the weight of your duty. You shook your head again as you tightened your lips for a moment. "That's not how this works.”

Azriel's demeanor softened, a small breath of defeat escaping him as his wings drooped slightly. He took in everything you said, his gaze flickering down to where his hand still rested atop yours before meeting your eyes again.

"I don’t want to leave you here," he said quietly.

Here, alone, he thought. It was true, everything was so beautiful in this form of existence. It was quiet, serene, and calm. The nights were beautiful, the days were glorious. But without you, it would have been empty. Void of life. He didn’t want that for you, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you in such a vast space. It felt wrong.

You recognized the concern in his eyes, realizing that his desperation stemmed from a place of caring– caring for you. It struck a chord within you, stirring a bittersweet pang in your chest, right beside your rapidly beating, tied up heart. Somehow, knowing that he cared for you only made you care for him more, deepening the sorrow that lingered in you, the feeling that now coursed through your veins.

Tilting your head, you offered him a soft smile, a gesture of reassurance, you hoped. "Azriel," you said gently, your voice tinged with a warmth he had grown to love, "I'll be alright. I'm happy here. It's where I belong."

It wasn’t all a lie. This was where you belonged, and you would be alright. But you weren’t sure if you’d be happy. Happiness wasn’t something you used to think of. You had a duty, a sacred, important duty, nothing else really mattered— not yourself, not your desires, not your heart.

Azriel took in your answer, swallowing the urge to fight it, to convince you further. But the pleading in your eyes, coupled with the ache in his chest and the heaviness in his stomach, left him feeling defeated. With a resigned nod, he looked at you, his voice soft but determined.

"I'll find you," he whispered.

You blinked, caught off guard by the soft declaration.

"I'll find you," Azriel said again, his tone firmer, as if he were making a promise that he intended to keep.

You understood the sentiment behind his words, recognizing the determination in his eyes. You knew, without needing to discuss it, that as a skilled spymaster, he possessed the ability to find people. Yet, deep down, you also understood the inevitable truth—that soon, he would forget you, forget the time you spent together. The thought caused a sharp ache in your heart, one you preferred not to dwell on.

So, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded and murmured, "Okay." And offered him a smile.

You sat there in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air around you. Breathing in the crisp, fresh air, you let the sounds of nature wash over you, grounding you in the present moment. Your gaze lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory, as if carving it into your very being. You wanted to remember this. Remember him, his touch, his care for you.

Azriel—the shadowsinger, the spymaster, a skilled killer. And then there was you—the servant of the Mother, a guide for souls, bound by duty and devotion. Death and his Reaper. What a poetic pair you made.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was time.

You had been right, when you talked him down before, sitting on the beautiful green hill. Azriel had a life to return to, a family he missed– a family that missed him. He didn’t belong here, no matter how much he wished he could. He could feel it, nestled within his ribs, a deep pull to his body.

Azriel stood in the familiar confines of the River house, his gaze fixed on the bed where his physical form lay peacefully. He took in the sight of his body, now filled with color, vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the pale, lifeless form he had been when he first awoke.

A sense of disorientation washed over him as he realized he was back here, in this room, though he couldn't recall making the conscious decision to return. From behind him, he felt your presence, a familiar energy that always seemed to embrace him with a comfortable warmth, the sweet smell in his nose.

"I didn't even realize I was coming here.” Azriel said.

Without turning, he heard your soft voice. "You never do," you replied simply, “Your body calls and you answer.”

Azriel nodded slowly, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He breathed out heavily. He longed to turn and look at you, to embrace your presence, trace the features of your face. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to confront the truth that lay before him—that he wanted to go back, back to the land of the living, to his family, to embrace his life once more. But he wasn't ready for what he needed to do in order to return– wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you.

“Azriel,” You said, as you gently placed your hand on his arm. He turned to look at you, his heart skipping a beat.The faelight cast a soft glow on your body, illuminating the delicate features of your face, dancing through your hair like shimmering strands of moonlight. And there it was—the small, reassuring smile that you had offered him so many times before. The smile you had given to him when he first woke up, afraid and alarmed, in the same place he stood now.

He couldn't help but feel a flicker of happiness at the sight of your gentle smile, but just as quickly as the feeling washed over him, it was replaced by a bittersweet pang of realization. The reality of why you were here, why you were looking at him with such tender affection, why he could barely feel your touch— and why his head throbbed with searing pain. He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping form, and then looked at you again.

“Y/n, I-”

You gently shook your head, a soft shushing sound escaping your lips as you reached out to calm him. "It's okay," you reassured him, your voice gentle but firm. "You won’t feel a thing."

But Azriel shook his head too, his expression filled with concern as he took your hands in his. "That's not what I'm worried about," he admitted quietly.

You met his gaze, taking in every detail of his face, breathing in his scent. Your gaze drifted towards his wings, so beautiful, so powerful. And then you looked back at him.

"I'll be okay."

It was a promise, not just to him, but to yourself.

Azriel's senses dulled and the pain intensified, a sense of desperation washed over him. He thought back to your conversations earlier. He never figured out how time worked here, perhaps the conversation had been days ago, even weeks. But, to him, it felt like hours prior. Maybe a day, if he was being generous. Still, his mind raced with thoughts, with things he wanted to tell you, to ask of you, things that hadn’t been there before. Ask me what you really want to, Azriel, you had said, so he did.

“Am I worthy?” His voice rang out, unsure, afraid— of the answer, of what the question meant. “Am I worthy of this life? Is… is it worth it?”

You smiled. A broad, bright, and kind smile.

You felt Azriel's hands tremble slightly in yours, guiding them to your lips. With tender reverence, you pressed a small, tender kiss upon his scarred flesh. “Yes,” you whispered, “If only you knew.”

You understood now, why The Mother always urged for a swift journey. You weren’t supposed to spend such intimate times with your souls, you weren’t supposed to grow comfortable in their presence, to learn about their favorite candies and the way their mothers smelled. You weren’t supposed to because it distracted you from your duty– and more importantly, you weren’t supposed to because it prevented you from the heartache you felt now. A piercing pain in your chest, a heaviness in your stomach.

You lifted a hand and gently placed it on his cheek. The warmth of your touch radiated through his body, sending a wave of indescribable sensation coursing through him. The world seemed to blur around him, the ringing in his ears drowning out all other sound. He squinted against the growing brightness, his head throbbing with a relentless ache. He heard your voice, soft like honey, sweet like tea, whispering in his ear in perfect clarity.

“Goodbye, Azriel.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel jolted upright, his body propelled by a surge of adrenaline that left him momentarily breathless. With a deep inhale, he struggled to steady his racing heart, his surroundings swimming into focus with agonizing slowness.

Each detail of the room seemed to materialize before him in excruciating detail, from the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the window to the faint murmur of voices drifting from the doorway. His hand instinctively went to the back of his head, a gesture born of instinct rather than any physical discomfort. Confusion furrowed his brow as he tried to recall why he had woken with such a start, where he currently was, why he laid on a bare bed, but the memory seemed frustratingly out of reach– blurry and unfocused.

As Azriel's eyes adjusted to the soft light filtering through the room, the door creaked open, a distant sound barely registering in his slow mind. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, a blur of motion filled his vision and Cassian was upon him, bounding forward with a crushing embrace. "There's my boy!"

With a startled gasp, Azriel felt the air rush out of his lungs as Cassian's hug engulfed him, the force of the impact momentarily disorienting him further than he already was. A small, involuntary sound—a mixture of surprise and amusement—escaped his lips as he tried to regain his bearings. Azriel's gaze flickered past Cassian’s broad shoulders, to where Rhysand stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.

"Okay, Cass," Rhysand said, walking towards the bed. "Let him breathe. We don’t want to give him another head injury."

Cassian released Azriel from his enthusiastic embrace, though a joyous gleam danced in his eyes as he stepped back, offering Azriel a sheepish grin. "My bad," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment, “I just missed ya.”

Rhysand stood casually, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. "If you were seeking attention, Az, you could've simply asked," he said with a wave of his hand. "No need to resort to dying for it."

The comment elicited a shocked blink from Azriel, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I- What?" he echoed. A few of his shadows slithered up his arms, wrapping themselves across his shoulders, the cool trail of them relieving tension in his upper body.

Rhysand let out a small laugh as he clapped him on the shoulder with a reassuring grin. "You have a lot of catching up to do, brother," Rhysand remarked, “Let's get you back to the land of the living.”

Azriel offered a small, uncertain laugh in response, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a hesitant smile, his mind still cloudy, disoriented. Rhysand and Cassian began talking, referring to him, attempting to fill Azriel in, but he wasn’t paying attention, their voices blending into a distant hum.

Instead, Azriel's attention was drawn to an inexplicable warmth on his cheek. Instinctively, he lifted his hand and gently touched the spot, feeling the comforting heat beneath his fingertips. He frowned, trying to make sense of the sensation, but the warmth seemed to soothe his lingering disorientation, grounding him in the present moment with a sense of…ease.

Azriel's attention shifted towards the corner of the room, where a soft beam of sunlight filtered through the window. A handful of his shadows floated and twirled, their graceful movements dancing within the warm glow. He smiled, tilting his head at the sight, his hand still on his cheek. What a beautiful sight, Azriel thought. And then he was turning his attention back to his brothers, a wide smile now on his cheeks.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

y'all... imagine meeting ur soulmate but u can only see her when ur dead and cant remember her otherwise lol sucks for azriel.

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