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moonlesslights · 11 months

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Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

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Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

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mssainz · 1 month

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PART 2 | AFTER FIVE YEARS

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.

Warning: None

AN: We are still getting there guys. I'll update as soon as I can. Please bear with me. You can comment down so I can tag you for the next part. I hope you like this one. Love youuuu!

Cael faced Carlos. He said thank you and gave him his sweetest smile. The smile that he actually got from him. Yes, Cael is a spitting image of his father. He is indeed Carlos mini-me which you think is unfair as you are the one, who carried him for months and took care of him for years.

Looking at Carlos standing in front of you is making your world stop. Your shoes become glued, refusing to move your feet out of the ground and an immense silence dampens your ears. And the moment you met his eyes, your mind started to tell you to run but your body is casually betraying you. All of this made you rethink your decision to come back here.

Fate must be joking with me and this is not very funny.

“Mama, can I still get an ice cream?” Cael said, interrupting your train of thoughts. Your eyes move to your son.

Thank you baby, I think your ice cream will save us right now.

You smiled and gave him a nod of approval. You swiftly reached out for his hand and made a move. Years have passed and you thought you were completely healed and had the strength to face him again. But now that he is here, you realize that your wounds are still fresh.

Cael, get Mama out of here. Please, I'm still not ready for this. Not yet.

You didn't even say thank you to Carlos for returning your son safely in your arms. But before you can even walk away from him. Carlos called out for Cael, which made your son stop and look back at him.

“Wait Cael,” Carlos said and started walking towards you two.

What the hell? Get away from me. I mean from us.

He knelt down to talk to Cael. He is just a few inches away from you, talking with your son, with his son. You stand frozen beside Cael not knowing what to do. You are just trying to read what Carlos is trying to do and what's going on in his mind right now.

“I think I'm also craving ice cream. Can I come with you bud?” Carlos asked, not breaking eye contact with Cael.

Lies. You don't like ice cream Carlos. You are not fond of it. What are you even thinking right now? How can you stay so calm when I am literally about to faint here?

You saw how Cael’s face lit up. That glow in his eyes and that smile in his face, you knew he wanted Carlos to come with you two. No doubt about it you know Cael's expression very much.

“Mama, can he come with us?” Cael said looking up to you, waiting for your response. Carlos also looked at you.

“Mama please,” and there goes Cael giving you his puppy eyes. And Carlos smiling beside him is not helping the situation. You never know that Cael and Carlos combo is something you cannot resist.

“Okay, fine. He can come with us,” you gave in and rolled your eyes. Cael gave Carlos a high five before giggling with each other.

What is going on, seriously? How come these two get along so much when they just met? What on Earth is happening?

Carlos lifted Cael and carried him. Your jaw dropped but immediately brushed it off. You two walk side-by-side towards the ice cream stall. And it is the longest walk you have taken in your entire life. You can't help but wonder why Carlos is not asking you anything.

You bought two chocolate ice creams for the boys. Meanwhile, you got a pistachio ice cream for yourself. You didn't even want an ice cream in the first place but you needed something to do to lessen how awkward you feel about this whole situation. The three of you sat on the bench near the ice cream stall.

“Mama, what's the flavor you got?” Cael curiously asked while looking at what's on your hand.

“It's called pistachio ice cream, honey. Do you want to try it?” You asked Cael who is now sitting on Carlos lap. You try to focus on your son avoiding Carlos.

He is invisible, he is not here and he is not real.

Cael nodded and gave your ice cream a try. His face immediately wrinkled which made Carlos laugh.

“You didn't like it?” Carlos asked while wiping some of the ice cream at the corner of Cael's lips.

“It doesn't taste good, Mama. Chocolate is better,” Cael said after gulping the remaining pistachio in his mouth. You just laugh at your son's reaction.

You sat there awkwardly until you finished the ice cream. All this time you were munching the pistachio that you got, avoiding having conversation with Carlos. Fortunately, he is also not talking to you and just focused on Cael on his lap. They are casually teasing each other, giggling beside you. You are still puzzled why he is just enjoying the moment and not confronting you. You know he definitely has a clue on what's going on and you can notice that.

After having ice cream, Cael and Carlos decided to play tag. You have never seen Cael this happy. This view feels so wrong but feels right at the same time. It feels so wrong that that the boys have to meet this way. But it feels so right that they are finally having fun with each other.

The sky changes into its orange hue. Carlos offers to drive you two to where you are staying here in Madrid. You didn't refuse because you were too exhausted to even grab a cab.

“Where are you two staying?” These are the first words that he said to you. After five years of not seeing each other this is where you start your conversation.

“In a nearby Airbnb,” you bluntly replied.

As you entered his car, his scent started intoxicating you. It is still the same. This scent once felt like home but not anymore or as you make yourself believe it was not anymore.

The drive to your place was still awkward. You were in the passenger seat with Cael who is constantly asking you questions about what he is seeing on the road. And you can tell that Carlos is checking on you two in his rear-mirror.

“What was your name again?” Cael blurted out of nowhere while leaning to Carlos at the driver seat.

Wait, what Cael? Baby, you two played together and you didn't even know his name! Now it makes sense to me how you didn't even insist that he is your Papa immediately after he told you that maybe he just looks like him. Cael, I think I should remind you more about not talking to strangers, honey.

“You can call me Uncle Chilli,” You raised an eyebrow on what he just said.

Uncle Chilli, huh?

“Okay, Uncle Chilli,” Cael said giggling. You can see that he finds his name silly.

After almost an hour's drive, you finally arrived at your place. You immediately get out of his car with Cael. Carlos followed you two at the doorstep. You then opened the door and let Cael go in first.

“I think we need to talk,” Carlos said.

“Yes. We need to. That's I'm here,”

I'm calling all the angels and saints, the Avengers, and even Power Rangers. Please give me the strength to talk to this man.

TAG LIST:

@seasonswinter @charizznorizz @itsjustkhaos @celesteablack @openthenyoor01 @carlossainzbelongswithme @timmychalametsstuff @viennakarma @charlottef1 @i-love-ptv @evie-119 @somepeoplemaybe @amberpanda99 @gotthatname @karlossainz @wonderfulkawaii

next part

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one x you #afterfiveyears #cs55 #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz jr

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joelscruff · 4 months

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keep it squeaky (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

a/n the way this just kinda happened and idk how to explain any of it. if it's not your thing pls move along!! but if it is your thing...enjoy. bear with me, it was written in about 30 minutes. summary: joel miller has a problem, and it's his daughter's new best friend. or, alternatively, joel listens to you pee while he's in the shower. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age gap (you're in your 20s, joel is in his 50s), piss kink (????) i honestly don't know if this classifies as actual piss kink. he can hear you pee (and then watches you). you're on the toilet. idk if i can get any more clear than that, jerking off in the shower, joel having dirty thoughts cause he's a dirty old man, imaginary creampie, imaginary tummy bulge word count: 1.8k

You've been teasing him. You love teasing him.

It's been a long, grueling week of teasing.

But you and Sarah finally head back to college tomorrow, and he can't thank his lucky stars enough. He'd thought it'd be nice having her back here, even nicer that she decided to bring a friend along.

How wrong he'd been.

You're, for lack of a better word, persistent. Very persistent. And he's flattered, don't get him wrong, he's extremely flattered; beyond awestruck that someone as young and beautiful as you would have any interest in an old man like him. It had taken a few days for him to actually even accept what was happening; the flirty comments, the seductive glances, the little touches here and there. He'd thought he was making it up, that maybe you were just a touchy-feely kinda person, a lover of intimacy with everyone.

Until you'd been on the couch together on the third night. You'd leaned over to grab something - the remote, your drink, he can't even remember now - and you'd purposely made sure to brush your knee against his bulge. You'd kept it there for a few seconds, rubbed it gently, and then with a wink you'd grabbed whatever you'd been reaching for and settled in next to him again. Sarah, on the opposite side of you, hadn't noticed a thing.

But he had. And he'd noticed everything else you were doing after that. Nudging your foot against his ankle under the kitchen table, brushing past a little too closely in the kitchen so that your breasts pushed against his back, wiped crumbs of dessert from his mouth with your thumb and then sucked it into your own with a wide-eyed and flirtatious expression.

Not to mention the shit you wore - when you'd first arrived you'd been in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, nothing unusual. But after that first day of meeting him you'd suddenly switched to dresses exclusively. Short little things that barely covered the tops of your thighs, frilly material that bunched up in the back whenever you bent over.

He's now seen the plump shape of your ass and those delicate little panties you wear way too many times to count.

But he can't. He cannot act on the desire he feels for you, even though you're quietly begging for it. You're his daughter's best friend, not to mention he's three times your age. Only a dirty old man would even consider reciprocating the things you've done to him this week.

It's just one more day, he tells himself. Just one more day and she's gone.

It's on that final day that he finds himself where he usually does on a Saturday morning - in the shower. He's humming along to a tune he can't place and scrubbing body wash along his arms when he suddenly hears a knock at the door, light and almost shy. He freezes, raises an eyebrow.

"Mr. Miller?" he hears your voice on the other side, "Can I come in? I have to pee."

His eyes go wide; is she serious? She can't wait a few minutes for him to finish?

"I'll be out in a few," he calls back, trying to ignore the speed at which his heart is suddenly pounding.

"I don't think I can wait, I really have to go," you reply almost immediately, voice edged with a desperation he can't tell is real or fake. He lets out a low groan, hand coming up to pinch the space between his eyebrows as he figures out what to do.

Before he can decide he hears the squeak of the bathroom door, opening just a little bit. Fuck.

He could yell at you. He could tell you to leave him alone, to give him privacy. He'd have every right. Even Sarah would back him up.

But then he hears your little voice again, soft and eager.

"I'll be quick, I promise."

He brings his hand to his mouth, bites at the flesh on the back of it and shakes his head underneath the stream of water. This is a bad idea. This is a very bad idea.

"Okay," he manages to say, voice husky and muffled against his skin.

He hears you close the door behind yourself, hears the soft footsteps of your bare feet against the tile. He wonders what you're wearing; if you're still in your pajamas - those cute little pink shorts and that tiny white bralette - or if you're already dressed. What if you're wearing another one of those little dresses?

His cock, which only a moment ago lay soft against his inner thigh, starts to harden.

"M'sorry, I really had to go," he hears you say sweetly from the other side of the shower curtain, "And you guys only have the one bathroom, so..."

"It's okay," he replies, voice almost pained, "It's okay, I don't mind."

And he hates that it's the truth.

He doesn't hear you sit down on the toilet over the sound of flowing water, isn't sure whether you've already started or you're still waiting for him to say something else. He clears his throat awkwardly, willing himself not to look down at his growing erection.

"Y'good there?"

"Yeah, sometimes it just takes me a minute when I'm around someone else."

Then why the fuck couldn't you just wait? He wants to ask, desperation and arousal clawing at his thoughts as he leans his head back against the shower wall. He brings his hands up and covers his eyes, wills you to just do what you need to do and get out.

His cock bobs against his stomach.

And then he hears it - it's different than the shower, less heavy. More light, delicate. An almost melodic sound that echoes against the bathroom walls, overwhelms his senses to the point where it's suddenly all he can hear. It flows out of you slowly at first, then steadily.

Oh fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You're doing this on purpose. He fucking knows you are. He knows you're dragging it out, taking your time, knows that you're probably hoping he'll take a peek at you as you do it.

And fuck, he hates that you're right.

He removes his hands from his face and brings one down to finger the shower curtain quietly, pulling it the tiniest bit so he can see past it. He feels like such a fucking pervert, the dirtiest old man that ever existed, and yet the throbbing in his now fully hard cock and the sound of you pissing inches away is telling him that he needs to look.

So he does. And there you are.

You are wearing one of your dresses, pink and tiny and perfect. Your pretty little panties are around your ankles and you've got your dress bunched up over your thighs, almost up to your chest. He can see so much of you, so much that's been hidden only just out of sight all week. The tops of your thighs, round and soft, the perfect pouch of your belly that peeks out under where you're holding the material of your dress. And there...just barely in view... he can see the smallest hint of your pussy.

He stares. And he listens.

You must know he's watching you, but you don't let on. You stare straight ahead, holding your dress high above your tummy and pushing out the remainder of your release with a dazed little smile on your face.

He wonders if your clit is throbbing. He wonders if it's poking out while you sit there, wonders what colour it is and how it would feel beneath his fingertip. He hears that beautiful twinkling sound and imagines what your pussy must look like as it relieves itself, wonders if it's pulsing, wonders what your little holes must be doing under there, just out of his eyesight.

With barely any thought he begins to stroke his cock with his free hand, mouth popping open as he pulls and pushes and continues to watch you - the prettiest little thing he's seen in way too long - in such a vulnerable state. He knows you're almost done, knows you can't make it last forever - even though you both want it to.

He tilts his head a bit, brows furrowed, eyes dark. He stares at your tummy and imagines the outline of his cock poking through from the other side. Would your little hole take all of him? Would it fit? Would you beg for it?

If you don't leave in the next minute he's going to fuck you.

And just as that thought crosses his mind, your pretty little stream dies out. The sound of the shower centers his world again and disappointment floods his body. Don't go. Don't leave yet. Show me that soft little pussy, please.

Much to his chagrin you carefully pull yourself up from the toilet. He watches as you flush, watches as you turn away from the shower to slowly bend over, reaching for your panties. His jaw goes slack, fist still pumping his cock as you do just what he was wishing. He can see your folds, see the little drips of liquid still clinging to your outer lips, can almost see the hint of your little clit peeking out.

He comes almost immediately, white heat gurgling onto his fist and down into the drain below as he stares at that perfect little seam, wet and dripping and begging to be fucked. He wishes he was filling it up, wishes he was painting your insides and making you squeal, holding you close with his balls pressed firm against that perfect ass.

You pull up your panties slowly, making a bit of a show of it before you're suddenly standing straight. You start to turn around, back toward the shower, and at that he lets go of the curtain and allows it to fall back into place, concealing him - and his now softening cock - from your view.

He listens as you turn on the tap, doesn't mind that the water goes a bit cold as you do - anything to get some clarity.

"I'm done now, sorry about that," he hears you say over the sound of water hitting the tiles, "I just really had to go."

"Th-that's okay," he manages to get out, voice strained and practically wrecked, "Whatever you need, sweetheart."

"You're so nice," you reply, and he can hear that you're smiling, "Enjoy your shower, Mr. Miller."

That evening, he calls for you while you and Sarah are watching a movie downstairs. Jumping at the chance to be alone with him, of course you tell Sarah not to pause it, tell her to keep watching because you've "seen it before" and you "won't be long".

It's almost like you know.

You know that when you find him upstairs he'll be standing in the bathroom, know that he'll pull you inside and close the door behind you.

"You forgot to wipe, sweetheart. Lemme show you."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*

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blacknailsandheartbreak · 5 months

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Imagine the group cannot understand how you and Zuko are so close with you being a literal saint and Zuko being... well Zuko

AN: I am back! Man, it's been a hot minute since my last post! ...Lets not think about that because I am back! :) woo hoo

~1400 word count

Part 2 once your done reading :)

SO, lets jump in and see what this Zuko fic about??? Well, imagine this...

The whole group is together and you are the newest member joining from an encounter at a local market. You'd travel alone from town to town, trying to help in any way you can to help fix the wounds the war had created. You fit in well, very polite and nice, never showing any anger, but very capable of defending your own with a bow. You became close with Katara, almost like sisters. Though, unknown to the group that you were a fire bender, you wished to keep that a secret. Your nation had done too much damage and could not bear to be tied to such a name. You hadn't practiced in a long time and were contempt on keeping it that way. You were good enough with your bow, you could protect yourself without the aid of bending. But one person saw through your mask, the only other fire bender in the group. You had a feeling he knew, as he was finding ways to spend more time with you, offering to walk with you to the market, to fetch water or wood, and he seemed to only ask you questions while it was just the two of you. If he did know you were a fire bender, then let it be so.

You volunteered one night to gather firewood, and Zuko promptly offered his assistance, in your nature you gladly accepted, you did like the company. While you two walked, you held a wicker basket against your hip and did most of the talking. Zuko hummed in response, keeping note of their far distance from the camp. As the conversation seemed to die out, Zuko stopped walking and you walked a couple more steps before realizing his halt. You turn around and lock eyes, both of you stand straight and still like statues. You knew what was coming next, your hair swayed slightly in the wind, the setting sun leaving amber shadows across you both.

"You're a bender, a fire bender." Zuko states, no question to his voice. You couldn't deny it, there was no point, he knew. You looked at him and smiled. You confirmed his suspicions, and explained to him that you have been building a new reputation for yourself outside of a fire bender label, trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had affected. Zuko seemed sad, he apologized for his nation, our nation. He had promised things would change after Sozin's comet, once he overtook his father. You smile and agree that Zuko would make a fine Fire Lord, you talk to him about how much you believe can change. Ever since that night You two became close, very close. Close in ways the group could only suspect, but no proof.

On the last night of the Gaangs regrouping, before they had to pack up camp and keep moving, everyone had gone to bed, except for Zuko. He had a hard time trying to get to sleep that night, so he went out for a walk to try and clear his head. He sat by the nearby river and thought about what you had said, to rebuild a new reputation as to not be associated with the fire nation, start anew. Zuko balled his fists in anger at his country, the horrible things, unspeakable notions they had unleashed. Zuko scrunched his nose in disgust and felt the pull of his scar, a sensation that he was use to, one that would usually bring more frustration but only brought him sorrow tonight, as your words passed though his mind, 'trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had effected'. Zuko felt the shame of his land pile on his shoulders, but he decided to head back to camp before he got too far into his head.

Back at camp, everyone was in bed, Toph slept alone in her stone tent, the boys had their own tent, while You and Katara shared a tent. Katara took a leap on that last night and decided to ask you about you and Zuko. She thought now would be the best time over any. Katara looked at you laying with your back to her, she gently poked your shoulder and you turned over.

"Sorry for waking you, but I had a question and I hope you take no offence, but you and Zuko... you guys have seemed to be getting very close... so um... are you guys... you know... together...?" Katara asked you in a quiet whisper with wide curious eyes.

While Katara spoke, Zuko had made his way back into camp and heard the faint whispers. It was unlike him to listen in on others' conversations but they had obviously not heard him return, and he seemed to be the topic of their subject so he decided it was fair game to listen. He caught on quickly as it was something about you and him.

You smiled and replied in a steady whisper, "Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more." You and Zuko knew there was a bond beyond your secrets you shared, but you two were not together, just close.

Zuko had his arms crossed across his chest, he felt no offence towards the statement you shared, it was true, it was a neutral answer he could respect.

Katara responds "Oh okay... um if you don't mind me asking another question," You nodded her on, Katara continued, "Zuko and you seem to be very different, as in you are so... vibrant and kind, I don't think I have ever seen you mad." She said giggling quietly, and you smiled. "But Zuko... well you know Zuko, he only ever... scowls. Spirits, I think a smile might split his face in half..."

Zuko furrows his brows at the comment, and grabs across his mouth, 'I can smile', he thinks to himself, lowering his hand.

Katara continues, "and... and it's like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk..." Katara looks at you, "How do you- being your bubbly self, connect with someone like him? How can you talk with him for as long as you do when he seems to barely listens half the time?"

'Barely listen??' Zuko thought as his eyebrows shot up at the comment, 'Is she serious? How could she possibly think that!'

You smile at her observation, "Zuko is very kind to me," you say sweetly.

Zuko's face relaxes to your answer, and he uncrosses his arms.

You continue, "But you're right, he never says much, and yes, he is indeed quiet, but when one has gone through so much, it is understandable. We all know that feeling to some extent and we all have our ways of dealing with it. I have accepted how Zuko conveys himself as he had accepted me for how I present myself. But over all, yes, he does listen, even if it seems he is not, he always does." You conclude with a sweet smile.

Zuko is almost taken back from your answer in a way he cannot explain, but it feels as if an unknown weight has lifted off his shoulders from your response. He decided to leave the conversation there as he had heard all he needed to, and turned to walk away. But the next thing you said had caught his attention.

"Who knows," You add, "his ears are probably burning right now with the mere conversation of us talking about him...". You both giggle and say your goodnights. Zuko smirked and rolled his eyes and walked back to his tent. Although, as he replays the conversation over in his mind, something sits like a small rock in his stomach. 'Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more.' Nothing more, he thought over and over in his head, maybe with time that could change. Once Zuko becomes Fire Lord and is able to start the change that the world needed to heal, you would embrace your bending and be proud of your nation. But that would come in time, so for right now, he could work with good friends.

#prince zuko #zuko #atla #zuko fanfic #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #avatar #avatar fandom #atla fanfic #avatar the last airbender #grumpy x sunshine

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gtgbabie0 · 7 months

Note

heyy!! i saw that your reqs are open ans i was wondering if i could ask for an "cregan stark x fem reader" in which the reader is giving birth but she ends up having complications during the birth (blood loss or the baby simply taking too long to come out) and she ends up being unconscious for a while... if that's not ok please ignore it, thank you!! <3

-Cregan Stark x reader

{The birth of your son Brandon Stark was nothing but stressful, and it makes Cregan face some horrible realisations}

CW// descriptions of blood/ reader is giving birth

Hope you enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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It was early in the morning when it began. You were eating breakfast with Cregan when the sharp shooting pain erupted through your lower stomach, it took your breath away and you couldn’t help but reach over to clutch onto his arm with a gasp.

He stops mid-sentence as he watches your face contort with an awful look of discomfort, panic rising in his chest when your eyes meet his.

“My love? What is it?- what happened?” He asks, standing up from his chair. He helps you up, wincing as you scream out in pain. Cregan guides you to the bed his hand soothing your lower back in hopes it’ll relieve your discomfort, but his attempts are fruitless when he notices the tears that fall from your eyes and his heart drops.

You shake your head, squeezing your husband's hands as you try your best to ignore the blood that pools between your legs, “The maesters- please” You gasp between breaths and Cregan doesn’t need to be told twice as he rushes out the door.

It isn’t long before people start to barge into the room, orders being thrown around as the midwives lay you down on the bed pressing a cold wet towel on your forehead.

Your body aches as a hot flush wash over you, and every sensation is far too overwhelming, it certainly doesn’t help that your skin is sticky with sweat. You can hear Cregan outside your shared bedchambers before walking through the wooden door, much to the dismay of the nurses.

“What is happening?- please” his voice is strained and he can’t bear to look down at you, the sound of you hyperventilating is enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.

The maester looks up at him, “She has started her labour early lord Stark” he takes a deep breath, watching the worry that deepens within Cregan’s eyes, “You must let us work”

Hours have passed since then, the late afternoon sun is peaking behind the curtains and Cregan hasn’t left your side as your clammy hands squeeze his. He chokes back a sob every time you let out an agonising cry, your face pressed into the sweat-soaked pillow as you grit your teeth.

The nurses tell you when to breathe then push, breathe then push and you know for a fact that your body cannot handle much more pain, exhaustion is creeping through your already weak body.

“Almost there lady Stark, almost there” one of the nurses promises, as she switches your cold rag for a new one, and Cregan doesn’t miss the worry in her eyes as she glances down to the blood-soaked sheets beneath you.

“You hear that my love? Almost there” He leans down to press a kiss to your damp hairline, pushing back the wet strands.

His thumb caresses the space under your eye, wiping your tears away as he holds your cheek. “I can’t- Cregan I can’t” you sigh, trying your best to smile up at him.

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead against yours “Yes you can. You are the strongest woman I know” he whispers.

You nod, taking a deep breath before squeezing your eyes shut, pushing one last time as the nurses and maesters all shout praises. “A boy!” You hear someone gasp but they seem miles away, and then you hear your baby cry as the midwives move quickly to clean him, wrapping him up in a clean blanket.

The noise of the room seems to bleed together, muffled as if you were underwater and with it goes your sight, then everything seems to stop and for a moment, for the first time in the last seven hours, there is clarity and the ache in your body ebbs away as your eyes flutter close.

The moment your grip on Cregan's hand loosens his heart stops, and the sight of your limp body covered in sweat makes his whole world come crashing down. He can’t think straight and the feeling only grows stronger as his eyes drift to the blood-stains all over your legs and bedsheets.

There’s a lump in the back of his throat that chokes him, and all the words he wants to say, needs to say, die on his tongue.

“My wife- is-” he isn’t able to finish the sentence as the Maester hands him his son, his cries hit Cregan's ears, a painful reminder that no matter what happens to you he has to carry on, a harsh reality that he can’t bare to face.

Before he has time to even look down at his child he’s already being whisked away from his arms, wet nurses attending to him. It’s almost as if the world has slowed down, and he can’t breathe.

“She has lost a lot of blood, my lord,” The maester says, his tone soft and gentle as he cleans up, taking out some strong-smelling herbs. “The best we can do is let her rest, if she doesn’t wake within the hour hold this under her nose” he nods about to leave the room.

“She’ll live?” Cregan's voice is weak as he gently holds your hand.

“Of course my lord, as you said, she is a strong woman” he smiles before leaving the room, and it’s only when the door closes that his tears fall so effortlessly from his eyes, and he pleads to any Gods who are willing to listen to him that you’ll be okay.

Cregan doesn’t leave your side once as the hours pass by. His hand gently lays over the top of your heart. The feeling of it beating beneath his palm gives him hope. He gently pushes your hair back, tucking the strands behind your ear as he waits on bated breath for you to wake up.

He watches your eyes flutter and immediately sits up, shuffling to sit closer to you. You groan something incoherent, but he can tell from the way you sound it’s out of nothing but pain. He’s quick to hush you, guiding you to lay back down, to your dismay.

“Y/n, please- relax, my love” he pleads with you as you grab ahold of his hand.

“Our son? Is he-?” You panic, voice hoarse as you try to sit up, ignoring the pain that seizes your body.

“He’s fine, I promise-” He whispers, watching your panicked eyes flicker frantically around the room, "But you, my love- please you need to rest” The way his voice trembles with worry makes you listen, that and the unbearable ache in your bones.

You look up at him, tears in your eyes as the heaviness of the situation finally weighs upon you. “I want to see him, please?” You whisper, and the hoarseness in your voice makes his heartbreak.

He wipes away the tears that fall from your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You will, I promise.” His voice calms your nerves. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? He’s not going anywhere” Cregan smiles as you nod.

“Okay. I do need a bath” You let out a raspy giggle, relief washing over you as Cregan chuckles beside you.

“Of course, my sweet wife” he smiles, his hand gently caressing your cheek before disappearing off, but not without looking back at you, a sad look clouded over his tired eyes.

The water is pleasantly warm against your skin, your hands grasping onto your husband’s shoulders as he helps you into the wooden tub. There’s a thick layer of silence that falls upon you both, it almost feels suffocating.

Cregan doesn’t mutter a word as he washes you. The water sloshing around, and the harsh wind is the only thing you can hear. It’s you who breaks the silence, catching his hands within your own.

You bring his hands to cup your face, “I’m okay. Cregan? Look at me, please?” You plead, noticing how he hasn’t been able to keep eye contact since you woke up.

There are tears that build up in his eyes, a dam of emotions that burst out of him. “I thought I lost you” he whispers, voice strained as he breaks down completely, the last hour finally catching up to him.

“But you didn’t Cregan, I’m right here” You don’t bother trying to hide your own tears, and he’s quick to wipe them away.

He leans to rest his forehead against your own, “I know” his voice is so quiet that if he were sitting any further, you wouldn’t be able to hear him, “But you almost weren’t, and I can’t live without you” he presses his lips against yours in a gentle, loving kiss.

“You don’t have to, I am right here, my love,” you tell him, kissing him once more before he pulls away. “I love you” you smile, as he goes to start washing your hair.

“I love you more… more than words could ever express” he finishes washing you. His touch is overwhelmingly gentle, so full of love that it makes your chest bloom with warmth.

The way his fingertips graze along your arms, how his lips feel as they press kisses along your shoulders. Small whispers of sweet nothings shared between you both in the candle-lit bathroom only ever to be heard by the pair of you.

You lean on Cregan like a crutch as he helps you from the bath, drying you off and changing you into fresh clean sleep clothes. Your bedchambers have been aired out by herbs and incense, and the bed sheets have been changed.

It feels so heavenly as you climb into bed. The sun was well and truly set. “I have a visitor for you” Cregan smiles, walking into the room with your son in his arms, wrapped in a blanket.

You gasp as he hands him to you. He stirs from his sleep with the movement. His tiny fingers wrap around your own as you admire him. “He’s perfect” You press a kiss to his forehead. Cregan sits beside you on the bed, the back of his fingers caressing his son's cheek.

“Brandon Stark” you whisper, looking over to your husband as he glances over at you with nothing but tenderness in his eyes.

You lean your head against his shoulder, smiling when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer, before pulling the sheets over your legs. “Brandon Stark” he repeats with approval, and you both chuckle as your son gurgles up at you with wide eyes.

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raincoat-movings · 1 year

Text

My abusive mother is trying to institutionalize me & put me in a conservatorship. Please help me fund my escape plan across a few states.

Long story short my mother called me this morning informing me to be ready that I will be institutionalized against my will (as she is a manipulative person and has made her friends believe her and agree with her on this stance). I rather die than be put into conservatorship or to be institutionalized. I have a place to stay a few states away, but I need to save enough to have the professional movers haul my belongings I CANNOT leave behind as I am disabled and cannot make the long trip myself. The professional move will cover gas, fees, boxes, insurance, and the move itself, but it will be around 2000 dollars. (The price is steep, but it keeps me from driving 2 - 3 days, paying for the gas myself, having things happen along the way to the rental, etc. The moving company will cover everything - U-Haul will still cost me around 1.2k plus + gas + whatever else comes up.)

I am going to try to save up enough around the time I planned on visiting my beloved anyway as we bought a plane ticket for July a month ago. I added some supplies to my wishlist for packing my stuff as I won't be getting any of the packing materials I need now like these until when the movers are on their way. I will be packing what I want to keep, selling what I can part with, and I can find boxes locally for free at least.

The goal price is higher if the move turns into an emergency move and the movers charge me even more for the up-front schedule, and if it's still around July then the excess will go towards the bills + fees of me registering for a new state license, rent, etc.

I would not be moving until things were in better condition, but with my mother threatening me I needed to make this move sooner. Again, I am so sorry to be asking for help again, but this is life or death for me I REFUSE to let this happen to me and I cannot bear to leave my belongings behind for her to put her greedy hands on.

paypal: partange1 cashapp: par1demon amazon: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/37P45EQYVHZZT?ref_=wl_share GOAL: 2500

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 1 month

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The PledgeManager has launched!

Thank you for bearing with us. We’re happy to say that, as promised, the PledgeManager has officially launched!

In case you missed it, we detailed earlier this week that the publication of the graphic novel has been pushed back from its original July 2024 estimate into Spring 2025 - you can read the full update here. We also want to take a moment to say that we have seen the outpouring of love and support on Kickstarter, and across various platforms, wishing Colleen well in her recovery and the time needed for the graphic novel - a huge thank you from all of the team for your understanding and patience, and for the genuine community and care we’ve seen these past few days. We appreciate you all.

PledgeManager

With this in mind, we think it’s important to underline: though PledgeManager has launched, you do not need to pay for your shipping fees immediately.

The PledgeManager is there for those who missed the campaign to order the graphic novel, and indeed for any backers who would like to upgrade, get some other add-ons, or the new items. You, as a pre-existing backer, should receive an email with information via Kickstarter and/or PledgeManager to inform you that this is now open to you - note, these are sent in waves of smaller batches, so if you don't get yours immediately, don't panic! It will likely take between 12-18 hours to process all the backers.

You are, of course, welcome to pay your shipping right away if you'd like, however we completely understand that you may want to wait until closer to the fulfilment time, or when more solid dates are confirmed, before actioning this.

For this stage, we have compiled a quick FAQ below covering some key questions:

Will the whole project be moving from Kickstarter to PledgeManager? No. This is just for the fulfilment side and logistics - all updates will still remain here.

Do PledgeManager backers get everything that Kickstarter backers do? No. While the remaining tiers will be made available for those who missed it, with certain stretch goals (e.g. additions to the book, loot boxes, etc), Kickstarter backers have a number of exclusives such as the Good Omens HQ discount code for when the store launches, and the backers only events.

My PledgeManager address will be different to what is listed on my Kickstarter. Is that fine? Yes. We are handling all logistics through PledgeManager and, as such, that is the only place where we will need your address. If you move or need to change any details, that will be the place to do so.

Can I change my address? Yes. You can update your address until we are at the shipping stage. We will keep this option open for as long as possible to ensure maximum flexibility around this.

How are shipping fees calculated? It is based on both weight and the country it is being sent to. We have been working over the past months to streamline processes and bring the costs down from their original starting point.

Do I have to pay just now? You do not need to pay immediately, but payment will need to be made prior to your items being shipped. You now have a bigger window during which you can make payment. As above, we will keep updating you on the progression of the publication schedule, should you be waiting for firmer dates before doing so.

What about taxes and import duty? UK: VAT is included in the costs UK backers pay, there should be no extra tax charges. US: We believe (but cannot guarantee) that imports under $800USD in value should not attract import duty, those pledges above may be taxed at import. EU & REST OF THE WORLD: If taxes or duties apply to your pledge, these will need to be paid at time of import into your country. We’ve spent months trying to integrate the costs at this stage, but in having the project open across the globe, it has proven too complex to be able to fully refine and cover all instances and locations, and we’ve been advised that this is the best route forward. We know a lot of international backers, particularly in the EU – for example – will already be used to this process, and we will keep you all updated on any developments on this front. For all of our backers, we are working hard to make labelling and declaring all of the contents of your pledges as transparent as possible, in order to make taxing and importing as easy and affordable as possible.

I want to buy the new items, but am waiting to pay shipping. Are they limited? The pins, mugs, notebooks - all the new items specifically added to the PledgeManager are not limited and will be available regardless of whether you get them now, or months down the road. The only limited items are the remaining tiers that have moved over from the Kickstarter (e.g. the Obsidian Tier) that were limited to begin with, and a very limited run of the Alien Parking ticket. Everything else is fully available, in perpetuity.

Will you be adding extra items to the PledgeManager? No. What is there at launch is all we plan to include at this point - any new items afterwards will instead originate via the Good Omens HQ store.

Will Kickstarter backers get items first? Yes. We will have a staggered approach for fulfilment: Kickstarter backers, then PledgeManager, then everything that is moving to the Good Omens HQ store will subsequently be made available.

You can also view the more general PledgeManager FAQ at terrypratchett.com.

We will keep PledgeManager and logistical notes present in all the monthly updates going forward, but felt this warranted a dedicated one-off.

These are available as part of the PledgeManager. Another beauty from our pin designer, Carl Sutton.

Thanks again for your patience. Back in the April monthly update.

In short: :)

The Good Omens Pledge Manager has launched:

those who missed the Graphic Novel Kickstarter: Now you can order the Graphic novel, not all things that were in the original Kicstarter are available but there is stil a lot of options and fuckton of lovely ineffable add-ons! :)<3

those who participated inthe original GO GN Kickstarter: you should an email (Dunmanifestin needs more information to fulfill your reward) with a link that logs you (if not log manually) into the pledgemanager and lets you edit the order (add new add ons) (yep, my wallet weeps :D<3)

The addons:

I mean... how can one resist for example these I do not know... :D

#good omens graphic novel #good omens #graphic novel #graphic novel kickstarter #merchandise #good omens merchandise #wahoo!

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tohakumaru · 22 days

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[project page]

>walk away, go with the nomad. i love you.

since you cannot cry, you make an effort to push the stale air out of your lungs, a poor imitation of a sigh - i guess bad habits really die hard. if the nomad has noticed, then it pays you no mind and simply carries on. casting one last lingering glance at the water and the sky above, you dutifully follow. after a short while, it becomes clear that something has changed. the nomad has picked up its pace, moving in erratic strides. here and there, you find it dashing across the sand, beak and head angled upwards, as though searching, or following an invisible thread in the air, one that you can feel, but cannot quite grasp, like a long forgotten name - always on the tip of your tongue, yet never to be spoken aloud. at times, you struggle to keep up. it's so hard, you're so tired, it's too much. your eyes burn with fatigue. you want to scream, to beg the bird-thing to slow down, but the words evade you everytime you open your mouth, and the nomad does not so much as look at you. a hot and bitter pressure builds behind your nose and muffles your ears. once again you feel yourself falling apart - but the blanket wrapped around your frame and the water sloshing in your hollow stomach seem to work against your body's trajectory to disintegrate, two forces swirling inside and all around you, like a wicked pendulum that propels you forward despite, despite.

i won't let you go, should have known that from the start.

---

tenderly her eyes made their pilgrimage across the mounds of glass and steel, mourning perhaps hunger is a cure for insanity, shut-you-up-real-nice knowing full well being alive is a horrendously beautiful thing while the dogs, blood stained snouts dig out the madness, turn it into a five course meal heaving, a still-beating heart melts like butter on their lips as poorly clipped nails fumbled and fussed,

just enough to make a day-ride.

---

in this fashion, you and the nomad dance across the white sand for some time, until a hillside comes into view. upon closer inspection, you are awed to realise it is made entirely of roots. at the foot of this strange hill, a grove - an incredible indent in that tangled mass that is the tree-hill - opens up and presents an even more curious sight: 12 creatures, each bearing the likeness of a bird, but is clearly not one. they stand stock-still and solemn, with multitudes of dried flowers and glittering gemstones at their feet. their faces, elongated and coming to pointy, beak-like ends, are not dissimilar to the nomad, but much more haggard; and so immobile, it is easy to mistake them for statues, has there not been the occassional puffs of dusty smoke and shrill noises, like a kettle boiling over, coming from their beaks and throats that betray any hints of liveliness about them.

the nomad slows its steps, and looks down. it keeps its eyes to the ground as you get nearer to the grove. it occurs to you that it is avoiding the living-statues' gaze. surprisingly, they reciprocrate the gesture. Ever so slightly each of them turn their head, so their eyes fall off the nomad, and onto … you. you, who does not belong you, who comes on a leash, believing it to be choice you, who dies, and nothing changes

to your bewilderment, the statues came to life, all at once. they grovel at the flowers and gems, and toss them in handfuls at you as the nomad leads you through the grove, leaving a trail of petals and stones. when you pass the 12th statue and come to the end of the opening, everything suddenly shifts: slowly, mechanically, the roots shape themselves into a winding stairway, leading you up the hill.

calmly, the nomad signals you to go up.

what do you do?

[previous chapter]

#illustration #fiction #drawing #impossible nomad #writing #storytelling #prose #poetry #poll #stories #ocs #creatures #monster #art #artists on tumblr

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fragileheartbeats · 23 days

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ ℱAMILY FIRST 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

♡ ⭒ㅤ𓈒 Dārilaros jin ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ㅤ྄

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝐴𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑛 𝐼𝐼 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛 𝑥 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

♡ㅤ𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝅄ㅤೀ

˚꒰🦋꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. This fic is probably my worst work so, yeah. Hope you enjoy!

You sat there, bound by chains, your leg tethered to the bedpost, a cruel reminder of your captivity. Aegon stood before you, his eyes ablaze with a manic fervor that sent shivers down your spine.

"Sweet wife," he murmured, his voice a haunting melody that echoed through the chamber, "do you fear me?"

You met his gaze, the depths of his madness reflected in the pools of his eyes. "No, my king," you whispered, though your heart quivered with dread.

The chains rattled as he moved closer, his hands trembling as they reached out to caress your tear-streaked cheek. "I cannot bear to lose you, not after what we've endured. The traitors lurk around every corner, thirsting for our blood, for our downfall."

"I will protect you, my queen," he vowed, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "No harm shall befall you while I draw breath. I will keep you safe, even if it means locking you away from the world."

Aegon's lips curled into a cruel smile, a semblance of affection tainted by the poison of his delusions. He knelt before you, his hands tracing the contours of your face with a tenderness that belied the storm raging within him.

"My love," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion as he envelop you in his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for all of this."

"They took him from us," he mutters, his voice a low growl, tinged with madness. "Our boy, our blood. They will pay for what they've done."

You buried your face in his chest, seeking solace in his embrace as he held you tightly, as if afraid to let go. His touch was both tender and desperate, a silent plea for forgiveness that echoed in the depths of his haunted eyes.

"I cannot bear to lose you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Not after... not after what happened to our son. I cannot bear to see any more harm come to you."

Tears welled in your eyes, silent witnesses to the tragedy unfolding before you. You reached out to touch his face, to offer solace in the midst of his torment, but your hand remained shackled by the bonds of his paranoia.

His lips found yours, a desperate attempt to drown out the screams of madness echoing in his mind. But even in the depths of his despair, he clung to you, as if you were the only anchor keeping him tethered to sanity.

"I will make them pay," he vowed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "For our son, for our family, for everything they have taken from us."

"Aegon," you whispered, your voice trembling with sorrow, He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin as he spoke words of madness and despair.

You clung to him, your tears mingling with his as you surrendered to the darkness that consumed you both. In that moment, you were not husband and wife, king and queen, but two souls bound by the weight of sorrow and the promise of retribution.

As the first light of dawn crept through the chamber window, Aegon rose from the bed, his resolve hardened by the promise of retribution. He lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering upon your face with a mixture of love and madness. "Stay strong, my queen," he whispered, his voice a haunting echo in the silence. "Our time will come, and when it does, we will unleash hell upon those who dare to oppose us."

"Tomorrow, I march to war," he whispered, his voice a mixture of determination and madness. "And when I return, it will be with fire and blood. We will have our revenge, my love, and none shall dare to defy us again."

You clung to him, your heart heavy with grief and longing for the man he once was. Yet even in his madness, there was a strength and resolve that both terrified and awed you.

"I will not fail you, my queen," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. "I swear it by the blood of our son, by the gods above and the dragons below. We will have our revenge."

With one final embrace, he tore himself away from you, his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor as he prepared to face the battlefield that awaited him. And as you lay alone in the darkness, consumed by the same madness that gripped your husband's soul, you knew that your thirst for vengeance would be your only salvation in the days to come.

MASTERLIST

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

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exhaled-spirals · 2 months

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« True gardeners cannot bear a glove Between the sure touch and the tender root, Must let their hands grow knotted as they move With a rough sensitivity about Under the earth, between the rock and shoot, Never to bruise or wound the hidden fruit. And so I watched my mother's hands grow scarred, She who could heal the wounded plant or friend With the same vulnerable yet rigorous love; I minded once to see her beauty gnarled, But now her truth is given me to live, As I learn for myself we must be hard To move among the tender with an open hand, And to stay sensitive up to the end Pay with some toughness for a gentle world. »

— May Sarton, "An Observation"

#quote #poetry #poem #may sarton #nature #gardening #english

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buckyalpine · 2 years

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Want You

18+ Minors dni

Love this. This was literally in the works and then I see this request in the middle of me writing it, chefs kiss. I love jealously, idk what’s wrong with me but it scratches an itch I cannot describe.

Warnings: FLUFF, pregnancy, Smuuttt (daddy kink, breeding kink,) angst if you squint but honestly not really.

Word count: 1.6k

The best part is Sharon was so certain Bucky would never chose you. Bucky had a type and it wasn’t you so imagine her surprise when he’s completely smitten by you. And by surprised, I mean complete and utter denial.

She figured it’s just a phase, maybe Bucky is bored, wants to try something new and soon or later, he’ll come to his sense and dump you, it’s just a matter of time.

Except.

The way he is with you is unlike anything else. PDA galore and this is from the man who retches at physical touch.

Bucky’s hands are always on you and the more comfortable het gets, the friskier his touches become. He has you on his lap during movie night, one hand up your shirt, softly stroking your skin. His arms are wrapped around you, cuddling you to his chest like a teddy bear, not giving a shit what movie is on.

All he cares about is cuddling his girl in his arms at all times.

He gets pouty. Sharon nearly loses her shit when she sees how soft he is for you. You can’t even get up and get a drink of water without him trailing behind you or jutting his bottom lip out when you tell him he can stay, you’ll just take a sec.

“But I can come with you”

“Bucky I’m just going to the kitchen”

“I’m coming with you”

His head rests on your shoulder as you make yourself some tea, his eyes closed, arms around you waist, he truly doesn’t ever want to be anywhere else.

And the names. Any girl he’d been with before had only been referred to by name but with you?

“Good morning my baby”

“I missed you babygirl”

“Come cuddle with me bubba”

“How’s my babydoll”

“Where’s my baby” Sharon saw red the day he was going around looking for you, hardly realizing (nor giving a fuck) he didn’t use your name and just went around asking where his baby was. Everyone thought it was the absolute sweetest thing on the planet, love stuck Bucky, happily wandering looking for his babydoll (who was napping in his Henley on his bed). Sharon strongly disagreed.

All hell nearly breaks loose when she comes back from a temporary transfer. She figured Bucky’s infatuation would have died down by now. So imagine her surprise when she sees…

You were fast asleep on the couch, your back flush against his chest. Bucky nuzzled his face into your neck, his hand softly rubbing your little baby bump under your shirt. He couldn’t stop kissing you, giving you gently little kisses, careful not to wake you up while he caressed your tummy, he thought he was in love before but now it was in over drive.

Sharon considered quitting. Because it only gets worse.

You’re almost always in Bucky’s arms. He’s always carrying you. He won’t let your feet touch the ground, not when you’re having his baby. And fuck, he loves talking about it.

“I’m going to be a dad!”

“You think our baby will have super strength?”

“What do you mean I can’t get them a mini knife set”

He’s doting on you constantly, feeding you, rubbing your feet, kissing each of your toes before massaging up your calves. He never lets you shower alone, he’s always there to help you, making sure you don’t slip. He has you lay down on the soft sheets, grabbing your favourite lotion, his hands working in gentle circles, massaging it into your skin. He kisses your stretch marks, taking his time moisturizing your skin, his hands skimming over the little kicks; he loves feeling his little one move inside.

Sharon had a resignation letter ready (thought not submitted) after Bucky took his shirt off at the gym. He’d been shirtless plenty of times so she knew exactly what he looked like, memorizing every scar, and dip of his skin. So this was fucking new.

Bucky’s fists flew to the punching bag, his chest glistening with sweat, beading down his pecs, right over where he had your name tattooed, another tattoo dedicated to his little baby boy etched on his shoulder.

“Y-you got a tattoo?” She tried to give him a flirty smile, her hand coming to trace over the tattoo, her skin flushing in embarrassment when Bucky took a step back.

“Yeah” Bucky stuck to giving her one word answers, in utter disbelief she was still trying to make a move even after he’d had a baby with you.

“ Nice ink cyborg” Sam smirked, hoping to egg Sharon on, loving the way she angriliy huffed, trying to pretend she didn’t care.

“For my angels” Bucky smiled shyly, his cheeks blushing, this wouldn’t be the only piece he had for you.

Stop here if you just wanted some fluff. Continue if you want some spice.

Oh she doesn’t just over hear it. She saw it. It was her fault tbh.

You stayed back while the team had left for an international conference, leaving the entire compound free for just you and a certain super soldier. Sam’s sister had happily agreed to babysit for the weekend to give you both some alone time. And what a fucking time you had.

After learning Bucky wasn’t going, Sharon had managed to find a way to stay behind, figuring this would be the best time to get him alone, completely unaware that you were still at the compound. She did her makeup, throwing on a sheer dress and foregoing a bra, making her way down stairs…when she heard….the fuck?

The sounds of skin slapping on skin echoed through the hall from the kitchen, pornographic moans bouncing off the walls.

Her lips curled into a smirk, even if Bucky was fucking someone else, it was nice to know he wasn’t as loyal as everyone though. He clearly got bored of you, just waiting for the chance for you to leave before he could feel some type of satisfaction.

She crept down the hall, nearly collapsing, watching the both of you, stark naked, fucking on the kitchen counter. Bucky had thrown off all your clothes, bending you over the island, his palm pressing in between your shoulder blades, against the cold marble.

“Y-you like this, huh baby, you love daddy’s cock filling you up? Smile for the camera mama, lemme see that pretty little face”

Sharon felt light headed, noticing Bucky’s phone propped up, his hand coming to tug your hair, your eyes rolling all the way back. Bucky spanked you, causing you to cry out before coming down to kiss your shoulder, thrusting into you harder.

“Look at how fucked out you are baby, how you gonna handle my cum princess, already so fucking gone” Bucky groaned, his cock throbbing as you moaned, unable to formulate a coherent sentence.

“Gonna put another baby in you mama, fuck, can’t wait to see you pregnant again” Bucky’s balls felt heavy, slapping against your clit with each stroke.

“J-J-ames!” You cried out feeling the band tighten in your belly, your orgasam approaching you hard and fast.

“Mmm say my name doll, say my fucking name” He snarled, pulling his cock out, throwing you over his shoulder, moving to the dining table.

There’s no way…he wouldn’t actually…oh fuck. Sharon didn’t know why she didn’t just leave but she couldn’t look away as Bucky set up his phone again. He carefully crawled on top of you, right in the middle of the table (thank fuck for Stark technology, it was built to withstand just about anything), spreading your legs, slamming into you in a single stroke.

“Kinky little baby, wasn’t this your fantasy princess? For me to fuck you right on the dining table” Bucky let out a dark chuckle, brining your thighs up higher so he could hit a deeper angle. You nearly sobbed, your head thrown back against the table as he slammed into you, his hand cradling your head so you wouldn’t get hurt.

“James I-I’m gonna-

“I know mama, squeeze my cock baby, milk it, take my cum” Bucky moaned, nipping and biting your skin, leaving dark bruises in their wake. “There’s so much cum baby, gonna make such a mess all over the table”

“JAMES” You clawed at his back feeling his hand come down to play with your clit, his pace growing sloppy.

“Babygirl….m’gonna knock you up baby, you want daddy’s cum?”

“Wan’ daddy’s cum Bucky, wan’ it!” You whined and cried out, your walls spasming around him, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he started to fill you, his cum leaking out of you, dripping through your folds and onto the table.

“So. Much. Cum mama, its so fucking much” Bucky whimpered, his sensitive cock still throbbing in your silky walls. “Fuck, I love you” He grinned down at you, letting his body relax for a bit, as you played with his hair. He let his phone continue recording, he loved these moments just as much.

The whole compound was a mess. Bucky had spilled his cum into you in the gym, the showers, the balcony, the lab, the elevator, and finally in your room, under the covers, his hips slowly rolling against you, taking his time to savour your body.

Sharon moves to a different department. But it didn’t help. Imagine her surprise when she sees Bucky’s arms full of babies, a little toddler on his shoulder, sleeping twins in both arms, with you by his side, your hand resting on your little baby bump.

Of course she’s still waiting for the day where he’ll lose interest.

And he never does.

Not on the day you got married.

Not on the day you had your fourth baby.

Not on the day you had your fifth.

Not today.

Not ever.

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed! (also this is an 18+ blog, I can’t tag nameless/ageless blogs)

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorgane @peaches1958 @kingfleury @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur

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serpentandlily · 7 months

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Untouchable VII - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst angst angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part VII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Are you alright?”

Feyre’s voice knocked you out of your own head. You swallowed audibly, looking at her before following her gaze down to where you were holding your wine glass, white knuckled. You let out a sigh and set the glass down on the table, putting your hands in your lap.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you said, to get her attention off of you. “Just thinking about my last trip to Hewn City, that’s all.”

Feyre’s brows furrowed but she nodded.

Your eyes flickered back to the other end of the table, where Elain and Azriel sat. Elain was basically halfway out of her chair, leaning into Azriel’s space. A knot formed at the back of your throat. Azriel wasn’t exactly encouraging her, but he also wasn’t trying to put more distance between the two of them.

Jealousy roared its ugly head inside of you. Especially as you watched her place a hand on his arm, laughing at something he said. A hand that wouldn’t hurt him, unlike yours.

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of it anymore. You just wanted this stupid dinner to be over already.

Everyone seemed to have paired off into conversation. Feyre and Rhys, Cassian and Nesta, Helion and Mor, Amren and Varian, Elain and Azriel. You pushed around the food on your plate, feeling alone.

There was one another person here who looked just as lonely as you. Lucien sat across from you, his eyes glued on his mate who was flirting with your…with your Azriel.

Elain laughed again, drawing your attention back to her. This time, Azriel had a soft smile on his face as well.

You couldn’t take it anymore, thankful everyone seemed to be finished eating dessert. You cleared your throat, standing up and drawing everyone’s eyes to you. You kept your focus on Helion though.

“I'm going to turn in for the night. It was lovely seeing you again, Helion,” you said politely. “Goodnight.”

You couldn’t get to the balcony fast enough, summoning your wings to make the short flight back to the River House. You ignored the soft stroke of your brother’s claws against your mental shield, not in the mood to make up excuses for your behavior.

Once you were in your room, you started ripping the pins from your hair and tossing them on your vanity. Just as you were finishing letting your hair down, the shadows in the corner of your room seemed to expand until a dark figure stepped out of them.

Azriel approached you, concern written on his face.

“Y/n? Why did you take off like that? Is everything alright?”

You didn’t turn to face him, instead you looked at him through the mirror.

“I’m fine. I-I just didn’t feel too good.”

“Don’t do that, princess,” Azriel said, stalking forward until he was right behind you, still able to look at you in the eyes considering he was a foot taller than you. “I thought we were being honest with each other now.”

You let out a sigh and turned around, placing a soft hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t stand watching you with her. After what I saw that night—” You choked on your own words for a second. “It’s hard to be around you when I can't be with you.”

Azriel placed his hand over yours. “I cannot apologize enough for that night, princess. But it is only you that I see. It meant nothing to me then and it means nothing to me now. You are the only one who owns my entire heart. I can only pray that a day comes when I can let everyone else see that too.”

You softened, staring up at his beautiful hazel eyes. They were gold right now in the moonlight shining into your room from the balcony doors, a perfect compliment to your own violet ones. But then his jaw clenched and the moment was stolen away.

You pulled your hand away from him, letting your arm fall limp at your side.

“This is also why I left,” you breathed out. “It pains me to see another person get to touch you when I can’t. I hate it, Azriel. I hate that I bring you pain.”

“I’d drag myself across the burning fires of hell for you, princess” Azriel brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, before leaning down to whisper, “I’ve never been a stranger to pain, y/n. Quite the opposite. I’ve learned to like it.”

The heat in his gaze—his words—made you melt right into his hands.

“Is that so?” Your voice was a mere whisper as your hand trailed down his chest, lingering on the waistband of his pants before palming his hardened length with a ghost of a touch.

Azriel groaned, his head falling against your shoulder. “Don’t tease me. Not tonight.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you purred, stroking against his mental barrier.

When he let you in, you showed him exactly how the two of you were going to spend the rest of the night.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You bit your lip, tossing more of your clothes out of your wardrobe and onto the floor of your bedroom as you dug around, searching for your journal. It wasn’t in the place you normally hid it, but that hadn’t been too concerning. You did often throw it about after writing in it for hours. But not being able to find it at all? That was a first.

“What are you looking for?”

You screeched, falling backwards onto your butt at the sudden voice. A masculine chuckle, accompanied with the scent of night-chilled mist and cedar flooded the room. You peered up to see Azriel hovering over you. You pouted at him and his antics.

“It’s rude to just appear in a ladies room, you know,” you snipped, causing him to snort. “I’m looking for my journal. I can’t find it anywhere. Have you seen it?”

Azriel shook his head, offering a hand to help you off the floor. “I didn’t even know you kept a journal. I can help you look.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

Before you could say another word, Azriel surged forward to kiss you. You let out a small gasp before giving yourself over to him. He kissed you with a familiar passion, bringing heat to your core and causing your heart to beat fiercely.

The kiss ended far too soon.

“What was that for?” you panted.

“Can’t I just kiss you?”

You gave him a look that had his lips twitching. “Fine. Cassian needs help in Windhaven so I’m going to be gone for a few days. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You frowned as he played with the straps of your dress, his eyes as pained as yours were at the thought of having to spend time away from each other.

“Do you really have to go? Can’t Rhys go help him? He’s the High Lord, not you.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to your lips again, smiling.

“Is someone going to miss me?”

His eyes softened when the look on your face didn’t change.

“It’s just for a few days, princess,” Azriel said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I suppose you don’t have a choice.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Do I at least get more of a goodbye?”

Azriel let out a small groan as your body pressed against his but to your displeasure, he merely kissed you on the forehead and stepped away. “I wish, princess, but your brother asked me to meet with him before I leave. I’m sorry.”

“Why is he always getting in the way?” you grumbled, more to yourself than anything.

Azriel placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, Princess,” he murmured, giving you one last kiss before disappearing in a whirlwind of shadows.

His scent trailed behind him…but then you stiffened, another lingering scent was attached to it.

You sniffed the air.

Jasmine and Honey.

Elain’s scent.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Why did he smell like Elain? Had he gone and said goodbye to her as well? Had he been with her before coming to see you? You could feel your blood rushing to your head and you forced yourself to calm down.

You sniffed the air again, only smelling his night-chilled mist and cedar this time. You let out a long breath, sitting down at the edge of your bed. Perhaps you had been mistaken. Perhaps your own insecurities were making you paranoid.

But something awful curled in your stomach.

And a feeling of dread rushed through you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You busied yourself while Azriel was away. It had only been a day so far, but you already missed him so much. You had buried yourself in reports from the Court of Nightmares and correspondence from Eris. But still, nothing could fully distract you from your thoughts.

You kept going back to that scent in your room.

Had you made that up?

But why? Why would you do that to yourself? You hadn’t even been thinking of Elain. You wrestled with the idea that maybe Azriel had seen Elain before you, to tell her he was leaving. They were friends, after all. It could be something harmless.

But that night kept flashing behind your eyes every time you shut them. Elain on the counter, her dress pushed up to her thighs, Azriel between them, as they ravishingly kissed each other. Elain and Azriel at the dinner table, her hand on his bicep as he made her laugh.

It made you feel sick to your stomach.

The words on the parchment you were reading blurred together and you set it aside with a sigh.

You were overthinking things. Azriel had told you time and time again that he wanted to be with you. That he’s always wanted to be with you and it was your own brother that had kept him away.

You dropped your head down on your desk, sucking in air. You were just being paranoid. You were letting your insecure feelings get in your head. Azriel wanted you. Azriel wanted only you. He loved you. He always had…

Right?

A giggle in the corridor outside your door caught your attention. You sat up straight, recognizing it to be Elain’s. You froze for a second before quietly getting up and walking to your door, pressing your ear against the cold wood.

Another giggle, a bit further down the hallway this time.

You slowly pushed the door open a crack, peering into the dark corridor. Another giggle and the sound of someone shushing another. A streak of golden-brown hair slipping around the corner. Azriel’s scent wafted through the space and your stomach turned over.

You stepped into the now quiet hallway, following after the sound of Elain’s giggles and Azriel’s scent.

He was supposed to be in Windhaven. Why was he here? And why was here with Elain in the middle of the night? Your heart was pounding in your chest. You felt like throwing up. But you pushed yourself to follow despite your better judgment.

A door around the corner slammed shut and you could hear the sound of rustling clothes. Tears pricked your eyes and you darted forward now, pushing the door open.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the empty room. You blinked once. Twice. You couldn’t hear Elain’s giggle anymore, couldn't scent Azriel either.

Had you imagined all of that?

You rubbed at your eyes, exhaustion settling into your body. Gods, you were going crazy. The lack of sleep was finally getting to you. That was the only logical explanation you could give yourself. You left the room and returned to your own.

Just a few more days.

A few more days and Azriel would be home.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The next two days passed in a blur.

You had a stack of reports in your arms as you made your way towards your brother’s office, ready to deliver them. You had been staying in the Townhouse the past few nights, needing space away from Elain–hoping it would make your delusions go away.

It wasn’t her fault that you were going crazy, wasn’t her fault that your own brother had pushed Azriel away from you all those years. You didn’t want to take it out on her, so you figured you’d just remove yourself from the Riverhouse until Azriel returned.

You were passing by a closed off room when a familiar voice made you stop in your tracks.

“Fuck, Elain,” Azriel moaned. “You feel so good.”

You shook your head but the sound of two people panting didn’t go away. You froze, just like last time, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping it would go away. You were truly going crazy. You had to be.

“Gods,” Elain panted. “Please, Azriel, don’t stop.”

Your eyes shot open as your heart dropped to your stomach once more. That feeling of dread came again as bile rose up in the back of your throat. You put your hand against the door, slowly pushing it open, praying that you would be met with the sight of an empty room just like last time.

You choked silently on your breath as you peered into the room through the crack in the door. Your hand shot to your mouth as the sight of Azriel and Elain came into view. You blinked once. Twice.

It didn’t go away.

There was Azriel, holding Elain against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as they kissed. Your heart snapped into a million pieces, your eyes stinging with tears that had started falling.

What the fuck?

How…How could he do this?

They pulled away from each other and Azriel rested his forehead against hers.

“How much longer must you pretend to be interested in Rhys’s sister?” Elain asked, closing her eyes. “I’m tired of hiding, Azriel. I don’t care what Rhys thinks. I want the whole court to know how much we love each other.”

“It’s better this way for now, Elain. If Rhys is suspicious of me messing around with his sister, then he will take the news of us together more lightly. He’ll be relieved it's not her I’m after. Hell, he’ll probably throw us a wedding himself.”

Elain giggled, pecking his lips. “I just hate watching her pine after you. It’s a little sad, honestly. You’d think she would’ve moved on after all this time.”

“I know,” Azriel agreed. “But it’ll be worth it. I promise you.”

You couldn’t bear to hear anymore. You silently took a step back, closing the door as softly as you could. You felt your vision go in and out of focus as you forced your legs to keep moving.

Azriel…Azriel had been using you this whole time? He had been wanting your brother to think he had moved on from Elain to you in hopes that your brother would be outraged by the thought, leading him to be relieved that it was still Elain he desired, not you.

You wanted to throw up.

Wanted to scream at the top of your lungs.

You…Gods, you were such an idiot. You had believed every single thing Azriel had said to you. Had never doubted him until these past few days.

No. No….you couldn’t…you couldn’t do this. You were going to be sick.

You were walking still, not even sure where your legs were taking you. You wanted to winnow to Illyria and throw yourself off a cliff, wanted to curl up in a ball in your room and cry, wanted to…Gods, you needed to get away. Needed to get the hell out of here.

“Dove? Are you alright?”

You blinked, your vision coming back into focus to realize you had walked to your brother’s office—your mind likely on autopilot. His violet eyes were staring at you with concern, tracking the tears falling from your eyes.

The reports fell from your hand, scattering to the floor. Rhys rose from his desk, striding over to you quickly. A sob escaped your lips as he grabbed you by the arms, shaking you a bit.

“Dove, what happened? What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

The words began spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel was seated at the kitchen table in Rhys’s family cabin, across from Cassian who looked as miserable as he did. It had been a long day of dealing with Devlon and the other Illyrians.

A shadow curled over his ear.

The High Lord approaches. He is angry with you, master.

Azriel swallowed audibly as a wave of darkness overtook the cabin, Rhys stepped out of it looking like a prince from hell, his violet eyes set on him with a burning rage.

Azriel knew the moment he saw Rhys what this was about. He had finally figured it out. He finally knew what was going on between him and his sister. That was the only reason he could think of.

“Azriel!” The High Lord growled, causing Cassian to jump to his feet, his brows furrowed with confusion. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Azriel braced himself but didn’t move. He deserved Rhys’s wrath. He knew he did.

Rhys tackled him, splintering the wooden chair into pieces as the two males landed on the hard ground. Cassian shouted at them to stop but Rhys began to pummel Azriel with his fists.

Azriel didn’t bother fighting back. He just laid on the ground, letting Rhys beat him even as he began to spit up blood.

He always knew this day would come. Knew that he deserved to be beaten into an inch of life for what he had done. He had taken something as pure and good as y/n and fully corrupted her, marked her, ruined her.

He had never deserved to lay his hands on her perfect skin, her perfect body. Not when his hands were so flawed. Not when his hands had done such terrible things.

Suddenly, Rhys was being yanked off of him by Cassian. Rhys growled at his other brother, trying to push him away but Cassian held strong.

“Azriel, get the fuck up,” Cassian grunted. “Why the fuck didn’t you try to fight back?”

Azriel stood, slowly, wiping a hand at the blood that was beginning to dribble down his chin. He spat out more blood, already feeling the bruising that was going to be scattered all over his jaw.

“Because he knows he deserves it,” Rhys snapped. “You fucking piece of shit! I trusted you! I fucking let you into my home, took care of you like a brother, and this is how you repay me?! I swear to the Gods if you don’t get out of my way, Cassian—”

“Stop!” Cassian shouted. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck happened?”

“Tell him, Azriel, tell him what you’ve done! Tell him how you’ve been messing around with my little sister behind my back!”

Cassian’s eyes widened, his head whipping back and forth behind his brothers. “Rhys, calm down. I don’t know who you heard that from but that can’t be true. Right, Az? I mean, fuck, the bargain we have wouldn’t even—”

“It’s true, Cassian,” Azriel cut him off. “It’s true. Let him go. I deserve this. I fucked up.”

“Azriel,” Cassian murmured in disbelief, his eyes full of disappointment. Azriel couldn’t bear the sight of it.

“You’re fucking sick, Azriel,” Rhys growled. “You held her as a baby! You watched her grow up for fucks sake! I thought I could trust you!”

“Oh fuck you, Rhys,” Azriel said, baring his teeth at the other male. “Don’t make this into something it’s not. I love her! I fucking love her, alright! I always have! And you knew it! That’s why you made us make that fucking bargain with you in the first place!”

“Oh you love her?” Rhys snapped, sarcastically. “You love her so much, huh? Is that why she’s in her room crying over you right now? Is that why you fucking used her to get back at me for telling you to stay away from Elain? I’m going to fucking rip your throat out!”

He lurched forward again, but Cassian took the brunt of his weight, holding him off.

Azriel froze, utterly bewildered.

“Az…what is he talking about? What does he mean you’ve been using y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel spat. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Rhys. I’m not using y/n and I never even wanted Elain. I was trying to move on from…from loving your sister for gods’ sake.”

Rhys laughed bitterly. “If that’s so, then tell me why my sister came crying to me a few hours ago after catching you and Elain fucking each other?!”

“What!” Cassian swiveled to look at Azriel again. But Azriel looked as shocked as he did.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Rhys? I’ve been here all day with Cassian. I don’t want Elain and I certainly wouldn’t be using your sister to get with her!”

“You’re a fucking liar, Azriel! She showed me what she saw, you prick! Cass, you better fucking let me go—”

“He’s not lying, Rhys,” Cassian interjected. “He really has been here with me all day. I don’t think he’s left my sight once. You can go into my mind and look, but I swear it. If…if what you’re saying is true, then I’ll fucking help you kick Azriel’s ass but I think there’s some miscommunication here.”

“Y/n is in her room crying…because she thinks I’ve been using her? I don’t… I wouldn’t,” Azriel murmured, mostly to himself. “I need to go see her.”

“If you move a single muscle, I swear I’ll tear your mind apart, Azriel,” Rhys yelled. “Don’t you dare even think about seeing her right now! You have no idea what you’ve caused!”

“Rhys, I swear on my life that I haven’t touched Elain since winter solstice! And I would never use your sister. I love her! She’s all that matters to me! I need to go to her. I don’t know what she saw but it wasn’t me!”

“Rhys, please, listen to him. I know you’re upset, I am too, but come on, you know Azriel. Does this really seem like something he would do?”

“I saw her memory of it, Cass. I saw him fucking Elain! I saw him talking about using her!”

Azriel stepped forward, glaring. “I haven’t fucked Elain and I wouldn’t, ever! I don’t understand…I’ve been here with Cass all day.”

“He really has, Rhys. There’s got to be something else going on here…I don’t know what y/n thinks she saw or heard, but it wasn’t Azriel.”

Rhys cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to get home. I need to get to the bottom of this. But this is not over, Azriel! Even if you didn’t use her or cheat on her! You should’ve never even put your hands on her in the first place!”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Cassian pushed him back. “One thing at a time. I think finding out why y/n saw what she did is more important right now!”

Rhys glared at Cassian but backed off. He shot Azriel another scathing look before disappearing into the darkness, winnowing away.

“I need to go, Cass. I need to see her, need to tell her that whatever she saw wasn’t true. I don’t care if you hate me now too, but I won’t let you stop me from going to her.”

“I don’t hate you, Az, but fuck, what were you thinking? I warned you not to hurt his sister,” Cassian sighed, before holding a hand out. “Take me with you.”

Azriel grabbed Cassian’s hand before shadow walking to the River House. The foyer came into view a second later.

Feyre was there examining Rhys’s bloodied knuckles. She peaked over at them as they appeared, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Azriel’s face.

“I tracked down Elain,” Feyre spoke. “She wasn’t even here this morning. She spent the night at Lucien’s apartment.”

She whispered the last part, glancing at Azriel but he wasn’t even paying attention. His eyes were on the staircase that led to Rhys’s sister’s room. He needed to get to her, needed to make sure she knew whatever she had seen wasn’t real.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys snapped, his violet eyes glaring into Azriel. “Mor is with her right now. You stay down here, in my sight, until this is dealt with! Don’t think this has absolved you of anything.”

“Rhys, stop,” Feyre barked. “Now is not the time. Can you remember what your sister showed you? Was there anything weird about the memory?”

Rhys let out a frustrated breath. “No—I don’t know. I was too angry to even think.”

“Well, we need to go talk to her,” Feyre said. “Have her show you the memory again. I don’t know how but someone must’ve planted it or something.”

“Why would someone do that?” Cassian questioned. “Who knew that her and Azriel even had a thing together and would try and get in between it?”

Azriel was stewing in his own thoughts, pacing in front of the fireplace. He couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t stand knowing you were upset thinking he had cheated on you and used you for Elain.

“Azriel,” Rhys barked. “Did anyone else know about the two of you? You better be fucking honest or I swear—”

“You’re not being helpful by being angry right now, Rhys,” Feyre cut in.

Azriel racked his brain for anyone who might have known they were together. They had been careful but there was one person…

“Cedric,” Azriel answered. “Cedric knew we were together. He knew she turned down his proposal because of me.”

“The Prince?” Cassian asked. 'Wait, you and y/n have been seeing each other since you traveled to the continent?"

"Cassian, not the time," Feyre snarled again.

Azriel could tell Rhys’s mind was racing with his thoughts and he too, paced back and forth.

“Fuck,” Rhys suddenly cursed loudly, causing Feyre to jump. “The Prince…his family’s magic specializes in illusions. Could he have…but how? Why?”

“Maybe he’s upset she rejected him,” Feyre suggested. “You need to go talk to her. You need to look into that memory again, see if you can poke through it.”

“He can’t talk to her,” Mor said, walking down the stairs and drawing everyone’s attention. “She left for the continent an hour ago. I was packing some of her stuff for her to send over.”

“What? You let her leave?” Rhys shouted. “Where did she go?”

Mor narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t let her do anything. She’s a grown female, Rhys. She went to Vallahan. I guess Prince Cedric said his doors were always open for her and she wanted to get away.”

Rhys cursed again. “No, no! Fuck, Mor! You had one fucking job! Not to let her out of your sight!”

“Well, sorry! I didn’t know we were considering the possibility that someone has been making her see things! She wanted to go and I wasn’t going to stop her.”

“We need to go,” Feyre interjected. “If it is the Prince who caused all of this, then who knows what he’ll do to her now that she’s back over there! He might manipulate her into marrying him.”

“Everyone needs to calm down,” Cassian said. “I have a question. So maybe the Prince knows about her and Azriel, but that doesn’t explain how he knew the background between Azriel and Elain.”

Something clicked in Azriel’s head. “Her journal. Fuck, her journal has been missing. He must’ve stolen it when we were at his castle. You said she left an hour ago, Mor?”

Mor nodded, her mouth in a tight line.

“Shit. That means she’s probably there already,” Azriel growled. “I’m going. I’m leaving right now and I’m going to get her back.”

“No you’re not,” Rhys ordered. “I’ll go and bring her back.”

“We can all go,” Feyre snapped. “Go get in your fighting gear just in case. We’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes so we can go save y/n from that Prince.”

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You brushed your tears away, not wanting anyone to see you had been crying. The castle came into view and you hurried forward, eager to get inside and away from watchful eyes.

You had written a quick letter to Cedric asking if you could visit and he had readily replied with a yes. You needed to get out of the Night Court, needed to get as far away from Azriel as you could.

Your heart was broken, snapped into a million pieces. Your throat was hoarse from sobbing the past few hours. Your entire world had collapsed and you had never felt such despair.

The castle doors finally came into sight, a group of soldiers standing guard with Cedric. He smiled brightly at you as you walked forward.

“Princess! I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon,” he greeted. “Please, come inside!”

You greeted him with a smile, scurrying inside the castle. You turned to face him. “Thank you for letting me come on such short notice, Cedric. I—”

“Seize her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, at the coldness in his tone. Before you could react, the soldiers surged forward and grabbed you by the arms. You let out a scream, trying to wiggle from their hold as they snapped a pair of faebane handcuffs around your wrists.

“Cedric! What—what are you doing? Let me go!”

Cedric gave you a menacing smile. “You know, I thought this might take a little longer, getting you to come back here. Who knew your insecurities about the shadowsinger ran so deep? I’ll have to send him a thank you after all of this.”

“What are you talking about? Why…unhand me, now! This is…Cedric, what is this? Let me go!”

The soldiers dragged you forward as Cedric stood in front of the doors, hands behind his back looking quite pleased with himself. “Oh no, there is someone very important I need you to meet.”

He grabbed you by the upper arm and a second later, the familiar feeling of winnowing whisked you away.

You landed on soft ground, right beside a lake. Your eyes widened on the shack that sat in the middle of it.

“Cedric, please! Let me go!”

You tried to wiggle out of your restraints but the guards held you with unflinching strength. You let out a tiny scream as a figure emerged from the water. A figure made of smoke.

“Hello, Princess,” Koschei purred. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: ooppp sorry for all the rage/upset I might've caused you with this one. The series is coming to a close though! Two more parts and an epilogue is what I have planned rn! Thank you guys for all your support!

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