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wlntrsldler · 1 month

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poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you.

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up.

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name.

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.”

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.”

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face.

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan.

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.”

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore.

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though.

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said.

“five star,

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was.

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations.

luke :)”

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine.

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else.

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though.

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?”

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?”

“well, i did help organize it.”

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?”

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.”

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.”

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.”

“are you cold?”

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.”

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.”

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?”

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.”

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof.

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message.

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him.

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom.

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.”

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.”

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.”

“did you write it?”

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.”

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?”

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.”

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.”

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?”

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte.

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole.

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills.

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel.

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.”

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him.

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.”

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours.

“18.”

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.”

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?”

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.”

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy.

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it.

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck.

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.”

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.”

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later.

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!”

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights.

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air.

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.”

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic.

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.”

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!”

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles.

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!”

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play.

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.”

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you.

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed.

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line.

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this.

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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sarahs-library · 7 months

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Forgotten: Part Two

Azriel wakes to find himself with everything he'd never allowed himself to wish for. Now, faced with the reality of all he thought he wanted, he must come to terms with his desires and the unexpected direction his life had taken.

Word count - 3564

A/N - Thank you all so much for reading the first part of my little story and for all the lovely comments and words of encouragement. I'm still learning how to post and interact on here, a few people asked to be added to a taglist which I've tried to create but I'm not sure if it actually works.

Part One ☪ Part Three

Forgotten Universe: Pretty Eyes

Azriel

Azriel was still under Madja’s knurled fingers as they palpated his temples, the soothing chill of her healing magic drifted over tender, swollen skin. Her copper eyes assessed his face closely and he schooled his features into a blank mask. His gaze drifted over the curve of her shoulder to meet Rhys as he lingered by the open doors of the balcony. The bland smile, the loose set of his shoulders, and the hands that hung casually in the pockets of his trousers irked Azriel. After so many years it wasn’t difficult to read this feigned nonchalance, the worry it masked beneath.

“A lingering effect of the head injury, exacerbated by the bloodsbane.” Madja’s fingers continued to probe as Azriel returned his attention to her. Thickness lingered on his tongue; left over from the medication she’d administered on her arrival to reign in his fever. His head felt clearer now, where his shadows had been silent before they sang again, murmuring of the almost imperceptible anxious shift of Rhys’ weight on the floorboards. Elsewhere the House of Wind was quiet and empty, Elain having fled into Rhys’ arms with a demand to be winnowed home without sparing a glance in his direction. Azriel had been left to stew in solitude until his brother had returned with the ancient healer tucked in his arms, greying spindrift hair windswept, her face lined with wrinkles and kind concern.

“Some amnesia isn’t uncommon with an injury like this,” Madja continued finally pulling her hands away from his face. “Though to ascertain its true extent you must tell us what you remember shadow-singer.” She retreated from him into the chair Elain had occupied earlier, righted by Rhys, and slowly lowered herself on creaking joints. Azriel balked a little under the attention as he tried to force himself to recollect. Pain brewed between his eyes. He remembered the visit to Hewn City, the scheming; the gifting of Nesta’s made blade to Eris. He remembered the solstice party, the disaster of his foray with Elain afterward, and his brother’s wrath. The ensuing weeks had been busy, his mornings occupied with training the Valkyries and concocting obstacle courses modeled after the Blood Rite qualifier. The afternoons and evenings spent keeping tabs on Eris and following up on the dead leads from whispers and fables of high-fae women bearing winged babes. Everything after was hazy, difficult to hold, and worsened the pain in his head if he tried to focus for too long.

“Feyre,” he said, and Rhys cocked an eyebrow, his face encouraging him to continue. “We were following leads on the delivery of winged babes.” The darkening of Rhys’ features filled Azriel with a sense of foreboding. “Feyre,” he continued, “is she…Is the babe...” He trailed off, unsure of how to broach the topic. Rhys’ features softened, understanding his brother had misinterpreted the emotion to be driven by his grief and loss and not for the male before him. Shoulders pulled forward in a rare display of vulnerability, scarred fingers clasping his knees for stability, Rhys struggled to recall a recent memory of seeing his brother so open, so vulnerable. He hadn’t seen him this lost since their youth in the war camps.

“Feyre,” Rhy drawled, fixing Azriel with what he hoped was an abating expression. “And the babe, we named him Nyx, they’re both well. Perfect.” Rhys watched his brother process the information, the small twitch of the corner of his mouth the only sign of his surprise. Watched as Azriel came to terms with the missing months in the timeline, Feyre still had half of her pregnancy to go during the solstice. How would he even begin to broach the missing years? “You don’t remember anything about the attack?” Rhys probed, Azriel bristled under the line of questioning.

“No.” His fingers danced over his injured abdomen and trailed the bandages before climbing up to rub over the empty feeling in his chest, worse than any wound he’d ever gotten. It left him feeling cold and empty. The glint of his rings caught his eye. The signet on his little finger embossed with the Night Court symbol, a gift from Rhys centuries ago declaring him part of his found family, rubbed against an unfamiliar band of gold.

Feyre

Feyre locked eyes with Nuala as she crouched over Nyx playing with his toys on the carpet. The shadow-wraith stepped silently over to them and greeted the young heir to the Night Court with a small smile, producing a plate of homemade biscuits warm from the oven and smelling of cinnamon. Nyx fixed her with his cerulean eyes and toothy smile, cheeks chubby from the lingering fat of youth. Reaching out to fist the crumbling treat in one hand he thanked her, proceeding to get more crumbs in the creases of his clothes than he did in his mouth. Feyre’s heart swelled.

“I’ll be back soon,” she reached out to stroke his midnight hair as his arms waved, one brandishing a small wooden figure and the other his half-eaten treat.

“Okay, mama.” His eyes were drawn to her briefly before he returned to his imaginary world, moving his wooden figure into position to conquer the high ground of his drawing table, covered in drying paint and charcoal pencils.

“You’ll behave for Nuala won’t you?” Nyx nodded eagerly in agreement and proceeded to clash the figurine in his hand against a triangle formation of his enemies with a sound of delight. Feyre rose, leaning close to thank the shadow-wraith on her way to the door. After taking an indulgent glance backward she stepped into the breach, winnowing to a familiar path on the outskirts of Velaris.

Well-manicured grass thick with morning dew poked through the paving stones Feyre stepped between on the way up to the front door. The lower level was in darkness, the windows blending into the dark stone and winding vines. The second level blazed, fae light seeping out of the floor-to-ceiling windows though Feyre saw no movement.

The dark wood of the door opened on a wind under her fist, poised to knock, and Feyre took the invitation to enter. The foyer offset the chill of the early morning air and she made a beeline towards the dark staircase. The open door allowed a beam of sunlight into the sitting area, dark with the curtains drawn, illuminating the comfortable leather chairs perched around the large fireplace.

Feyre eyed the portrait hanging above the mantle, a solstice gift to Azriel the year after his mating ceremony, her heart ached. Depicting the moment after the vows had been said and the food exchanged, hands clasped between them bound by thick dark ribbon, Feyre remembered agonizing for days over how to properly encapsulate onto the canvas the shared look of love and adoration. Feyre couldn’t imagine how you had coped over the last few days, in the last months of pregnancy sitting vigil at Azriel’s bedside wondering if he would wake up. Presumably elated to hear he had awake, only to find him in the arms of another woman, one with whom he shared such history.

Continuing up the stairs to the second floor Feyre followed the fae lights towards the front of the house. The door to the nursery was ajar and she stopped short of the threshold. Your back was to her, one hand tracing the soft carved wood of the bassinet Azriel had spent every spare moment painstakingly crafting. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air, leftover from a few weeks ago when the pair of you decorated the walls with murals of snow-capped mountains, lush forest greenery, and frolicking animals.

Suspended over the bassinet in a sea of miniature stars hung multicolored globes, each spinning on their invisible axis. The spiraling constellation, you’d called it a galaxy, held all the planets known to your people. Feyre wondered how many you’d seen in your trips across the stars as you reached up into the field of magic closest to you to trace your fingers over a small planet of russet brown cratered with darker swirls.

“Rhys told me what happened.” Feyre watched as you continued to agitate the floating sphere. You didn’t turn. She crept closer into the room, torn between giving you space and reaching out in comfort. She waited with bated breath to see if you would respond before continuing. “It’s the head injury, he doesn’t remember.”

“He had no idea who I was.” The hand that hung in the stars moved to cradle your abdomen. “He would’ve…” You trailed off. The posturing, the aggression, there was no doubt at that moment Azriel viewed you only as a threat, a stranger, someone who had invaded his home. That was not the male who had doted on you only a week before, hands cradling you gently as his lips brushed your soft skin singing low lullabies to your unborn babe.

“Elain was at the River House earlier,” Rhys had dropped her there with a rushed explanation before disappearing again. “She feels awful, she wanted to come and apologise.” Feyre wasn’t sure why she brought up Elain, as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised she’d made a grave miscalculation.

“I don’t care what Elain wants right now Feyre.” The temperature in the room plummeted as you finally turned to look at her. For a moment the air in the room thinned and Feyre struggled against the pressure of the vacuum that forced her to exhale. As quickly as it came the atmosphere in the room returned to normal and she sucked in a shaky breath through her teeth.

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” Feyre tried to keep her voice low and soothing, pinned under your gaze as she edged closer, reaching out to place an open palm on your arm. “Madja’s with him now, she says that all this is to be expected. When Rhys spoke to her earlier she said these things usually resolve themselves with time.” Your thumb traced gentle circles on your swollen belly.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little short on that right now.” The anger in your tone was undermined by the tears threatening to spill. Realising there wasn’t anything she could say Feyre moved to pull your body against her own. Arms encircling you in a comforting embrace, she rubbed her fingers between your shoulder blades. You moved to hold her back, resting your face in the space where her neck met her shoulder as you let the tears fall. “What am I going to do?” Your voice was thin and watery, in the time Feyre had known you she’d never heard you speak with so little conviction.

“We’re going to figure this out.” She pulled away slightly and clasped your face between her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. “I promise. You have all of us, you’re not alone in this. We’ll do everything we can for you, both of you.” Nodding you sniffed, pulling away. Feyre let you go as you turned your attention back out to the window, eying the gilded disc of the sun as it rose across the Valaris skyline.

“I’m heading to the House of Wind,” Feyre continued to observe you as you tracked the ascent. “Would you like to come?” You moved closer to the window. On the opposite side of the city you could see the grand mountain range and it’s carved residence. Through the morning mist blanketing the base a large, winged figure rose, angling to land on one of the balconies.

“I don’t think I can look at him right now.” Feyre acquiesced her desire to push you to come with her.

Azriel

After Madja had left Rhys with strict instructions regarding Azriel’s rehabilitation over the next couple of days, he’d supported his brother’s weight while they made slow progress to the bathroom. Azriel’s limbs felt stiff, uncharacteristically uncoordinated and he concentrated on remaining upright and shuffling one foot in front of the other.

Steam rose from the bath the House had prepared, swirling to meet the shadows that seeped down his arm as Azriel braced one hand on the edge of the tub. Using the other he edged the loose cotton trousers down over his thighs until they pooled at his feet. Fingers tugged at the cotton on his abdomen to find purchase, loosening and unwinding until the bandaging fell away to reveal an angry pink scar, jagged and stark against tanned skin.

“Want me to wash your back?” Rhys shot him a cheeky grin, but the mirth in his voice didn’t reach his eyes. Azriel appreciated the effort, this small attempt at normalcy. He shot his brother an obscene gesture before raising one leg to step into the tub, thigh muscles twitching as he shifted into the hot water. Using his arms to brace his weight he started to lower himself in, descending too quickly they struggled to hold him up causing a wave of bathwater to soak the floor. Azriel sunk under the warmth of the water, allowing it to soothe him.

“We’ll be in the dining room, come down when you’re ready.” His shadows had already informed him of Cassian and Nesta’s arrival, he assumed the rest of his family wouldn’t be far behind. Azriel nodded, avoiding Rhys’ gaze, pretending to study the shadows roiling over the water. In the mirror on the opposite wall, Azriel watched Rhys’ reflection as he opened his mouth as if to speak, no sound coming out as he considered, before closing it again and disappearing through the doorway.

Dressing had been an arduous process, though no longer stiff and painful his muscles had a weakness that he wasn’t used to. After struggling into the tight second skin of his fighting leathers he felt more himself. Finding truth-teller laid out in its holster on the dresser he strapped it to his thigh. His shadows, now a fuller cohort with the effects of the bloodbane leaving his system, were a thick tangle of moving darkness, sour and agitated in solidarity with their master.

Despite his interrogation, they hadn’t offered him any useful information, it caused Azriel great frustration when they took the stance of purposeful vagueness or outright ignored him. He sent them ahead down the corridor to scout out the dining room only to be turned around by a shield of impenetrable night. Whatever conversations were going on in that room, Rhys did not want him privy to them. His own family, keeping secrets. It left a bad taste in Azriel’s mouth, a sense of betrayal in his chest that sat next to the empty feeling he was growing accustomed to, a limb he didn’t know he had until it was missing.

Azriel reached the closed door, the thick night dissipating as he progressed, the sound from beyond the door returned but he heard no voices. Just the sound of breathing and the clink of porcelain as someone set a cup on a saucer. Rhys must have informed them of his impending arrival. He pushed the door open and took in his family.

Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, Feyre and Amren all sat at the table which had been used for family dinners before the River House was built. Their faces were carefully blank as he assessed them all. Mor was notably absent, information Azriel tucked away, either her efforts across the continent were still ongoing or some other manner of business had her attention. He hadn’t expected to see Elain, not after her spectacular display of anger, but he couldn’t help the feeling of unease and disappointment it left in his gut.

“Finally, the invalid graces us with his presence. Took you long enough,” Cassian sent him an easy grin, arms folded across his stomach as he lounged in his chair. Azriel scowled in response which only made his brother’s smile wider. This had always been Cassian’s modus operadi, an invitation to be provoked into a physical outlet if that’s what was needed, thinly veiled under jibes he rarely meant at heart. For a moment, Azriel considered taking up the unspoken offer, if only to delay what was undoubtedly going to be an uncomfortable conversation.

“Azriel,” it was Feyre who spoke, offering him a small smile, “Why don’t you join us?” Azriel understood that it wasn’t an invitation and slid into the seat next to Amren. His eyes met Nesta’s who sat across from him. They’d reached a tentative understanding, perhaps it could be considered a friendship, in the months he could recall. He remembered her joy at receiving the solstice gift he’d gotten for her, the resulting rare display of physical affection.

Looking at her now, face resolute and stony with blazing anger behind her eyes, barely contained, he had the sense that something had damaged the dynamic between them. He purposely looked away, instead fixing his eyes on Rhys; then Feyre. He waited for someone to speak, break the almost oppressive silence. He half-expected it to be Cassian again, with some throwaway comment or badly timed joke, but it was Rhys who cleared his throat.

“Azriel, thank you for joining us.” Azriel raised an eyebrow at the formality but stayed silent. “There are some matters we need to discuss.”

“Clearly.” He trailed his eyes over his family again, they all seemed uncomfortable to be here, to be around him. As if they knew he was going to react badly to whatever they were going to say. Rhys let his remark go, seeming resolute to power ahead with the conversation.

“What you showed me of your recent memories,” he continued, eyes drifting to Feyre who gave him an encouraging smile. “Lead us to believe that the memory loss is more extensive than we originally feared. Azriel, what you showed me – it was more than five years ago.” Azriel barely seemed to move under the scrutiny of their gazes. He’d lost years of his life. In the grand scheme of his immortality it felt like nothing, but looking at his family and realising that they lived in a future he didn’t remember left him feeling sick.

Azriel tried to find some rational thought to hold onto as he spiralled. He fell back onto the only thing he could rely on, his role as the Night Court’s spymaster. “Was it the work of the Queens? The attack?”

“The debacle on the continent has been resolved, for the most part. It was only supposed to be a routine investigation, nothing too strenuous or time-consuming given your current…” Rhys paused. “Situation. You were gathering information on some remaining rebellious factions, we didn’t anticipate that you would meet that kind of resistance, that they would have the resources. We’re sorry Az, we never meant for any of this to happen.”

“And what exactly is my current situation, Rhysand? What do you have to apologise for?” Azriel’s voice was low and dangerous. Amren snorted at the display, reaching for her wine glass. He expected a scathing remark, but it never came as Rhys shot her a look, and in a rare moment of deference she adhered as he implored her to remain silent.

“The female that was in the house earlier-“

“The thief.” Azriel interrupted.

“No,” Feyre cut in before Rhys could continue. “Her name is Y/N, and she’s your mate Az. The situation,” Feyre seemed to find describing it as such distasteful, but she continued. “Is that she is pregnant, with your child. That’s why we’re sorry, if we knew how dangerous it would be we never would have asked you to go alone.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Three brothers for three sisters, that was what Azriel had always thought about, always dreamed. The cauldron blessing him with undeniable proof that, though not blood-related, he and his brothers were three equal parts in the eyes of fate. He’d wanted that, seeing how happy they were in their relationships filled him with bone-deep envy. Observing from the sidelines as Rhys and Feyre prepared for the new addition to their family with vigour, as Cassian and Nesta had danced around each other in slowly shrinking circles. The other halves of their souls. That should have been him and Elain, never mind the mockery of the bond Vanserra thought they had. Azriel knew it was a mistake, a sick joke that would all work out in the end because there was no other way it could be. Three brothers for three sisters.

He wanted it all. A house on the outskirts of the city, filled with the sweet scent of Elain’s baking and made beautiful by the flowers she cultivated in their gardens. Filled with sunlight and happiness, somewhere to retreat from the darkest corners of his life. He’d dreamed of that life in the secret hours of the dawn, of a future where the issues of Feyre’s pregnancy had been resolved and perhaps their home was filled with the noise of children.

Now he had awoken in a future where he had those things, a mate, an unborn babe on the way, only to find it wasn’t with whom he desired. Elain, whom he had woken in this world for, who had been so tender in his first moments of consciousness, who had kissed him back. Azriel couldn’t imagine choosing to build that life with anyone else.

A/N - Phew! I know, the angst was real. I promise it will get better, but there's definitely a long way to go here! Part three is in the works, not sure when it will be finished but hopefully it won't be too long.

Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @impossibelle @we-were-beautiful @going-through-shit @mulansaucey @sv0430 @naturakaashi @amygdtjhddzvb @airstrip-0 @acourtofsmutandstarlight @myheartfollower @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @valencia-rou @amysangel @furiousbooklover @phoenixgurl030 @imnotsiriusyouare @i-am-infinite

#azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar series #acotar x reader

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reve-writes · 1 year

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—dense; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 2,2k words. ʚ you're a bit clueless as to why the dirtyhands do the things he does, like call you schatje and pay you to steal something when he clearly doesn't need to. ʚ fluff. ʚ a/n maybe ooc kaz im sorry. more at the end!

Ketterdam is a marvel from afar, a pretty little flower offering promises of its nectar—new life, new opportunities, debauchery—only to catch you in its trap and swallow you whole. All the way up on the clock tower, roughly centralised in the port city, the Barrel is nothing more than bright lights emanating from bar signs and glittering roofs.

The bell rings, reveberating to signal the change of the hour. It's time to work, finally.

Your boots thump as you make your way down the spiraling concrete staircase, paying attention not to step on the chunks flaking off of the edge. Whoever was responsible for building this was clearly cutting cost, the concrete is about as fragile as clay.

A painting. It is an annoying job to do on your own, but your contractor offered a lot of Kruge for it—perhaps too much, but if Mr. Kikkert is willing to scrape his pockets for it, then you're more than happy to accept. It is more Kruge than you would ever need for a while, so you won't have to scrounge for scraps in this Ghezen-forsaken town. Moreover, it's been a while since your last job and you're frankly not doing too well.

You step lightly over the rooftops, hopping from building-to-building with sure, steady steps. You have done this for most of your lives, to avoid being stomped into the vile muck at the bottom of the Barrel, you learned to hide near the skies.

Where the painting is being kept isn't far from the Canal, just on the rows of overpriced apartments for rent. You were told that it was housed on the third floor of the corner building. Everything is going well. Your journey is uninterrupted and the stadwatch aren't on alert.

Until you spot him.

The familiar curve of his black hat. The high collar of his coat. The shining leather of his gloves.

Brekker.

You strut towards him as if you are neighbours crossing paths on your evening walks. When in truth, his Crow Club is on the other side of the town and you never come to this area without reason. You call his name sweetly. His head whips around immediately, finding you in the dwindling foot traffic of the street.

He says your name in a warning tone, suspicious of your being here.

“What? Can't I come and see an old friend?”

Brekker scoffs. “I don't know. Can you, schatje?”

You almost turn around and leave when you hear the term of endearment. He knows it gets under your skin—it always does. Your heart skips a beat or two and your train of thoughts gets interrupted whenever he calls you that. He means it as a jeering nudge and your head is wholly aware of that. Your heart, though. What a fickle little thing.

“A bit of a walk from the club, isn't it?” you say, falling into step next to him as he turns the corner towards the apartment building. “I assume you must be up to something.”

“Ah, but I'm always up to something.”

“I can't say I disagree,” you snort. “You don't happen to have a job around the area, do you?”

He halts, his cane knocking against the stone pathing. He turns to look at you and your elbows brush against each other. “Do you need anything? I have important matters to attend to.”

You bring a hand to your chest exaggeratedly, feigning a frown. “How callous. Call me schatje and throw me aside. Is this how you treat everyone, Kaz?”

“Only you, mijn schatje.”

You roll your eyes, unsure how to behave. Huffing, you say, “Stop calling me that.”

“I was under the impression that you liked the nickname.”

Oh, you do.

“I'll be going now. I've something to do. Stay off my job,” you warn. “You still owe me literal crown jewels from last time.”

Kaz's neutral expression shifts into fond nostalgia as he recalls the incident you're referring to. The crown jewels in question were under dispute by a pair of soon-to-be divorcees. One of them hired the Crows' help. The other called on you. One thing led to another and the item ended up in Kaz's hands and you went home empty-handed.

“I won that fair and square,” Kaz retorts. “Your current job wouldn't involve a certain painting, would it?”

Judging by his smug thin smile, you know that he knows.

“Tell me it isn't what you're here for.” You sigh exasperatedly. “Stay off of it, Brekker. I can't afford to lose another job.”

You think to be threatening, bluff your way out and tell him you'll tear down his Crow Club if he gets in your way, but you doubt it will work against the Dirtyhands. After all, you're one person and he has the whole Dregs behind him.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow for a moment and for that terrible moment, you think that he may be there for the same reason you are, but he shakes his head lightly. “Fortunately, schatje, no. Stop looking as if you're going to murder me in my sleep.”

An involuntary smile blooms. “I wouldn't dream of it, Kaz.”

“Go on, then,” he says. “Be careful.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks to keep from smiling. “You too.”

With that, you part ways with Dirtyhands, entering the building. Your acquisition of the painting goes smoothly and the deal is closed swiftly a few hours later. It's too easy. You know it is. You're missing something.

Miss something, you did.

You push open the door to the Crow Club carelessly. The loud chatter mixed with atmospheric radio surges to meet you as you push your way past sweat-slicked bodies and drunken patrons. Your eyes dart back-and-forth, trying to spot the familiar curve of his black hat or the shiny glow of the head of his cane.

Jesper spots you from one of the open gambling tables.

“If it isn't my favourite thief,” he says, inclining his glass towards you. “Fancy a game?”

It isn't until you stop by his table that he sees the downward slope of your frown and the sharp glare you're giving. He instinctively sits up straighter, taking his shoes off of the corner of the table.

“Where's Brekker?” You ask, to-the-point, without indulging in your usual chit-chat whenever you visit.

The other three patrons on the table freeze—sensing the tension on your shoulders, too. They look between you and jesper, both confused and intrigued to know more. What is Ketterdam if it doesn't have rumours and secrets whispered about?

Jesper's brow furrow. “Are you okay? What's going on?”

To Jesper's knowledge, you and Kaz are on friendly terms, despite the frequent bickering. Hell, he assumes you're more-than-friendly, with the way Kaz gives you a nickname—an endearment, to be specific. Is it possible that you're going through a lover's spat?

“Brekker, Jesper. Where is he?”

A familiar rasp cuts through the rowdiness. “Here.”

Your head whirls around and you shoot an accusatory stare at the source of the voice. You stomp your boots as you make your way towards him. As you pass by him, you tug on the sleeves of his coat.

“We need to talk.”

“Hold on, schatje,” he says, still trailing after you. His cane knocks against the hardwood of the floor. “About what?”

You make your way up the stairs, to the second floor and swing the door to his office open as if it belongs to you. He has an eyebrow raised when he enters after you, closing the door behind him. He leans back against it, waiting for you to speak whatever it is that's on your mind.

“Kikkert,” you snarl. “You paid him to pay me.”

“That's quite a conclusion. How did you come to it?” His voice is level, not betraying whether or not you've spoken the truth.

You're pacing in front of him. “He says, and I quote, ‘If you're so close to Brekker, why doesn't he ask you himself to do this?'”

His eyes furrow and he runs a hand through his combed hair. He sighs, holding a hand up in a you-caught-me gesture. “Kikkert clearly has no idea what discretion means.”

You glare at him. “Do you think this is funny?”

He seems taken aback. “I don't see why this is a big deal, schatje. It's a job. You're paid. I get the painting. What's wrong with it?”

“Why are you doing this, then? Pay me for something you clearly are able to do yourself? Hell, whose painting was it? Was it yours? Did you pay me to steal from you?”

He doesn't reply, but the way he shifts his gaze away from you let's you know. It's as clear as a verbal admission.

“It was yours. That's why you were there. From your safehouse, wasn't it?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Is this amusing to you? I'm sorry if I don't quite see it as such.”

“Schatje—”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

You can't wrap your head around Kaz Brekker's thinking process. He pays someone to pay you to steal a painting he already owns. What's his plan in the long run? To embarrass you? Hurt your pride? Is this some sort of ploy to rope you to be indebted to him?

He sighes. “You were struggling. I only wanted to help.”

“Dirtyhands doesn't help people. You don't run gangs the way you do charities,” you retort.

Is that all you see him as? The demjin? The one who's willing to stain his hands for the right price? Is there no other version of him in your eyes?

“You're forgetting the man behind the monster here,” he says softly.

“Am I?” You approach him, leaving a little over two steps in-between the two of you. “Who exactly is the man behind Dirtyhands then?”

He pushes himself off of the door, taking one step forward. The thump of his cane practically echoes in the room. The hustle bustle of the Crow Club is nothing more than a muffled sound. There's a sudden tension in the air—the same one that hangs over you whenever he calls you his schatje, but this one is heavier due to your lack of light-hearted banter to parry.

“Do you really not know?” he asks, as if the question is staring at you in the face. As if it's the most obvious thing in all of Kerch. His stare is heavy, dark irises acting like magnets that pull you in. He scoffs, “You really are dense.”

“Well, enlighten me, Brekker! None of this is making a lot of sense to me.” You let out a frustrated huff of breath. Your hands move wildly to stress your points. “You know what? Whatever it is, I don't want to know. Just — quit doing it. I'll never take another job from Kikkert. I'll stay away from your damned club and all your friends. I'll stay away from you. I'm a capable enough thief without your pity, Brekker. I don't need it. You can shove it up your—”

His gloved hand wraps around your wrist as it's flailing in the air. Your speech immediately comes to a halt and your eyes widen.

“You are impossible,” he says.

You snort. “And you aren't?”

“At the moment, no,” he retorts.

His stare is intense. It isn't until then that you realise you've taken a step forward during your rant, decreasing the perfectly amicable distance and turning it into a heart-thundering one.

“It wasn't pity,” he says. “You're capable, I have never doubted that, but even the most capable ones struggle sometimes. My intention is to help. Trust me on this. I know you're too prideful to accept any, so I paid Kikkert.”

“But why? Why bother?”

“Why?” He blinks, sighing loudly before continuing. “Why? Have you ever stopped and thought, for a moment, that I've been calling you schatje. Do you think that was out of pity?”

You bite the insides of your cheek and shake your head. “It was something else.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that it's because —ghezen forbid— I may actually harbour fondness for you?”

You blink once, twice. Kaz thinks he much prefers breaking into the ice court than having this conversation right now. His hand trembles when he brings them to brush your cheekbone lightly. He lets out a relieved sigh when you don't pull back. Your hand wraps over his gloved one, the leather cold on your skin. You lean into the touch.

“I thought it was one-sided,” you say finally. “I'm quite fond of you, too, you know.”

“You do a horrible job of showing it.”

“Says you,” you argue. “Just—don't do it again. Let me handle my own problems, Kaz. I'll let you know if I need your help.”

He hums in agreement. “You'll let me know.”

“I will.”

The two of you jump apart abruptly when there's a loud knock.

“Boss?” Jesper's voice sounds muffled through the door. “Everything okay? I hope ___ hasn't murdered you yet.”

“I haven't,” you answer, half-chuckling. Turning to look at Kaz, you say, “It's funny how he doesn't assume you'll murder me instead.”

Kaz shrugs. “He knows I can't.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Can't or won't?”

“Both,” he answers. “Can we not talk about murdering each other after what just happened?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. What just happened is you practically professing your little (well, maybe not-so-little) crush on him.

“So, is Kaz okay?” Jesper shouts again.

“Fine,” Kaz answers. “You can go back to your table.”

[ ]

i wanted to write something cute. schatje is taken from google and inspired from a kaz fic i read that used 'schatz' as a nickname. the plot is slightly ehhh? because it didn't really end the way i intended it to and i didn't proofread (when have i ever?). i was hoping to turn it into a two or three part series, but this is what we've ended up with & im quite happy with it. thank you for reading!

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #—ki writes ��

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months

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book 7 part 5 thoughts!!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 5 OF THE MAIN STORY!!***

If you’d like to watch a rough part-by-part summarized translation, please check out this archived stream!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

Starting off strong with some lore on magic! Teleportation magic involves breaking oneself down and reconstructing elsewhere. If the distance from point A to point B is too large and/or the caster is in poor health, the magic may fail or be difficult to perform.

Hmmm... Lilia is reacting very emotionally to the situation, but it is Baul that is (mostly) rational and reminding Lilia to keep calm. I'd anticipate it being the other way around, so that's quite interesting.

HUH... Even Sebek is staying calmer here than Lilia is; Sebek recalls training with Lilia and how they were taught that they have to stay calm to think and plan effectively in tough situations. Ironic that the old Lilia was the type to go against the advice he would later give and instill in his pupils. Again, it goes to show how much he has changed since then.

AH, BAUL'S BEING A TSUNDERE AGAIN 🤡 He's telling the kids to stay behind because the situation has changed... "Don't foolishly discard the life Lilia-sama protected", "humans shouldn't be fighting alongside fae anyway", etc. (And, of course, Silver's the one to step up and tell him fae or human, it doesn't matter and he still owes Lilia his life all the time.) NOW'S NOT THE TIME TO TALK, GUYS... MALLEMOM'S GONNA BE GAME ENDED

Weird sounds downstairs? SILBEK KICK DOWN THE DOOR and we find some chefs in hiding. adhbasvfvuvfqeilfe;o THEY MISTAKE SILVER FOR THE DAWN KNIGHT... More sussy behavior implying the Dawn Knight must be his ancestor.

They ask for brooms to transport the injured faster. Silver's negotiation skills come in clutch again, he convinces the chefs to direct them to the brooms even though it would be helping the fae, the humans' enemies.

Not Sebek's stomach growling now of all times... NOT SEBEK DENYING IT SO MUCH (it's okay, they get pity and some food from the chefs!)

Found a room full of birds; they seem to be for transporting messages. Silver feeds them some of the bread they got from the chefs. Wow, Sebek's actually being sneaky/clever (?). He tells Silver he's loved by animals, so time to use that now so they can use the birds.

AKHBBGSKUVYEQFBI NOT GRIM WANTING TO EAT THE BIRDS

Bleh, we have another time-gated, character-limited map segment. Silver and Sebek take up 2 of the 5 slots. Again, the cards' health does not regenerate unless you land on a special square. Luckily for us, there is only a single path forward rather than a larger, sprawling map.

NO KIDDING, THE BIRDS HELP THEM FIGHT THE SILVER OWLS... Literally they're swooping in and tugging on the knights' cape and stuff... the squirrels nibbled away at their catapults' rope too... chucking rocks at them... THE BIRDS POOPED ON THEIR ARMOR TOO???????? Imagine training your whole life to put your life on the line for your home country, only to be literally shat on and defeated by woodland creatures...

Lilia: I hate children. Also Lilia: *rushes into battle to protect the children and gives them head pats for a job well done and asks them to be safe*

Silver continues to be a Disney princess!! They find some horses tied up and he's like "let's free them". Sebek drops some club lore; Silver is one of the better students in Equestrian Club when it comes to soothing the horses. True Horse Girl at heart, huh??

Silver and Sebek are surprised that what they learned in school is actually helping the in a "real world" sense. Man, I wish that was true of irl high school education too...

The Silver Owls recruited mercenaries from other countries to help them seize Briar Country's resources??? The others pitch in because they live in fear of a dragon attacking them.

They're going to teleport into the castle, but they can't teleport out since they can't guarantee the safety of Tamago-sama... They're going to use the underground waterways to escape!

There's a mountain range that protects another castle of the royal family, Black Scale Castle. Malleus's mom is currently in an unprotected castle, Wild Rose.

Wow, what a peaceful vista straight out of Sleeping Beauty. I sure hope it doesn't become tainted by blood being spilt and bodies dropping or anything craaazy like that/j

DAWN KNIGHT INCOMING???? Silver's ring starts??? Going off??? When he sees the Dawn Knight...

Heinrich reveal too! He seems like just as much of a scumbag as all the rumors say he is (he wants a dragon to ride, tells the Dawn Knight he's only good for his swordsmenship, etc). BRO JUST STRAIGHT UP SAYS HE WANTS TO TAKE MALLEMOM'S EGG AND RAISE IT TO BE HIS STEED... 💀 WTF THAT'S SO DARK

This asshole reminds me of Jack Horner from Puss in Boots 2: The Last Wish, who is another irredeemably evil man with a small face and a generally grotesque design.

Heinrich is after the castle and some very powerful magestone called "Princess's Glow"? Not sure, did not hear the second word well.

He's giving them 30 minutes to send the princess out for a one-on-one duel with the Dawn Knight. If she wins, they'll retreat (I DON'T BELIEVE THAT FOR ONE SECOND).

NOT THE CASUAL FAE RACISM... Heinrich calls Mallemom a "witch". If you'll remember!! In book 6, Lilia says that mages were once called witches, but implied that those terms are now outdated and considered derogatory.

The Dawn Knight is like Silver! He tries to tell Heinrich this isn't right, but Heinrich tells him that since his father took the Dawn Knight in as an orphan, the Dawn knight "owes" them. It's a twisted parallel to Silver and Lilia's relationship (because Silver says he feels like he "owes" Lilia and has to repay him).

Okay, so to review the family tree??? The king of the human faction is sick and they want the Princess's Glow to heal him. The king is the dad of Heinrich and Leah; the king would also later take in the Dawn Knight. Leah and the Dawn Knight are in love.

Malleus's mom's official name is "Meleanor" (a location name is written in English with this)i. The castle's halls really resemble those in Diasomnia dorm (I think it's a reused asset). (Now that I think about it??? Didn't they also reuse the VDC backstage background for the eastern fortress?)

SHE'S SINGING???????? A lullaby for her baby, it seems. Bruh... Malleus sang like a line from this lullaby before he game-ended everyone with his UM... HE REMEMBERED HER SONG FROM INSIDE THE EGG SHELL??????????

MALLEMOM REVEAL AW YEAH (she starts zapping Lilia with lightning lol; she's mad at Lilia for showing up late to defend her and her egg) SHE'S THE HOT GOTH GF

OMG EGG REVEAL TOO... UNBORN MALLEUS... (The egg looks like it has blot running down it too, which is insane)

ADBLIsfiablfa IT'S SO WEIRD SEEING HER SIMP ON MAIN, she says he knows her unborn child will grow up to be a beautiful man just like her husband... (Sebek is practically sobbing from happiness that he gets to witness Meleanor name Malleus.)

The ear shape is really coming back to bite them; Mallemom noticed them and now her anger is turning to our group. She forces us to kneel with magic... Jafar energy fr

"Princess Glow" is the green orb in Mallemom's staff!

Lilia tells some embarrassing stories of the princess's tomboyish youth; "And though you always scolded me, you never failed to join me in my mischief" -- Mallemom to Lilia

She agrees to duel the Dawn Knight while the others escape with her child... Now Mallemom and Lilia are fighting because Lilia refuses to follow through with her order.

NOOOOOOO SILVER JUMPED IN TO PROTECT LILIA FROM MALLEMOM'S LIGHTNING 😭 EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS IT'S A DREAM, HE DOESN'T WANT TO SEE HIS DAD HURT

Lilia trauma time :)) "I can't lose both you (Meleanor) and Levan (Malleus's dad)".

IT'S LIKE WE THEORIZED, LADS. Mallemom says that if anything happens to her, then it's up to Lilia to help Malleus hatch with the POWER OF TRUE LOVE... BUT LILIA THINKS HE CAN'T HATCH IT BECAUSE HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND A PARENT'S LOVE

OH MY GOOOOOOD THE PIPING HOT TEA, MELEANOR SAID LILIA PROPOSED TO HER WHEN THEY WERE YOUNG... OVER 200 YEARS AGO

sdhbfbiyoaifofi Mallemom says that Lilia "also loves Levan" and that those two spent more time together than a "married couple". You could interpret this as Lilia being bisexual or just as them being really good friends, as Meleanor never specifies if Lilia “loves” Levan romantically.

Suddenly, Lilia's special card name makes sense! Lilia is the "Right General", and Levan is the "Left General".

The weather shifted according to Meleanor's anger. Like mother, like son... This woman also quotes Maleficent so much...

OOOOH we get to watch a battle between Mallemom (dragon form) vs the Dawn Knight. Mallemom uses all null/cosmic magic, just like Dorm Uniform Malleus. The Dawn Knight uses light type null/cosmic magic just like Silver does too!

Dawn Knight face reveal?! He's basically Silver copy-pasted but long blonde hair. Dude's really out here looking like a Sonic OC recolor/j

The Dawn Knight also has a crown-like ring on a chain. It's an item that was given to him by guardian fairies when he was young; there is no other like it.

YASASHII... The Dawn Knight notices our group has the egg and tells them to run. He doesn't want Heinrich to get his hands on it either... Crowley, takes notes 😭

UHHHHH SILVER'S CRYING AND SHOUTING... I think he realized that he's descended from the Dawn Knight, serving on the faction that's brought so much harm to his loved ones and home country. "Am I family to the enemy?!" His denseness is truly to his detriment here.

Uh-oh, Silver's being pulled into the "darkness" of the dream, thinking it would be better to just stay here than face reality... He's losing hope, DOING THE THING HE FORESHADOWED LAST UPDATE... IF HE EVER FALLS INTO THE DARKNESS, THEN PLEASE PULL HIM OUT... (Another map segment with Silver required; you have to find your way around in the dark.)

NOOOOO NOT SILVER SEEING HIMSELF AS THE DAWN KNIGHT THAT HIS DAD'S STRIKING DOWN IN VENGENCE OTL WHAT IS THIS, IT'S SO SICK AND TWISTED

400 years after conflict, the peace treaty was signed between fae and humans. Wild Rose Castle is now left in ruins; the rumors say it is haunted. The diurnal fae casted a spell on Wild Rose to keep humans away.

HUH???? LILIA FOUND BABY SILVER IN THE ABANDONED WILD ROSE CASTLE?????

Uhhh so apparently after the war we saw, another conflict broke out for territory and the Silver Owls got their asses handed to them.

LILIA UNIQUE MAGIC REVEAL... HE CAN READ THE MEMORIES OF THINGS HE TOUCHES????? (Reminds me of "Dimensional Scream" from Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of TIme/Darkness/Sky!) "Far Cry Cradle" is the name! We also get the chant: "As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye."

BABY SILVER?????

Silver was magically put to sleep for hundreds of years by some small (guardian) fairies?!?!?!?!?!?!? Because conflicts were still going on and his parents wished for him to live in a world free of war. When Silver meets someone who "loves" him, he will wake up from his magic-induced slumber. NOW THE BABY IS AWAKE AND CRYING

... Wait. Doesn't that mean. Silver is technically older than Malleus... since Malleus is only 178 years old and Silver's been sleeping for like 400 years????? OTL SILVER OLD MAN ERA??????

NOT (PAST) LILIA BEING TSUNDERE, he says he thinks the guardian fairies' magic is fading with time... he doesn't even consider that he'd ever love the baby...

"I'm not someone who deserves your love" - Silver, casually cuing all of our tears

Silver's hair was originally blonde; It became silver when he received a fairy's blessing (Lilia's). LILIA SAYS "May the Night bless you" and says that the day he found Silver is his new birthday. So the Dawn Knight has gold hair because it's blessed by a diurnal fae, but with silver hair like moonlight, Silver won't stand out in Briar Valley.

I CAN'T WITH LILIA, SILVER SAYS HE WAS NAMED THAT BECAUSE OF HIS HAIR COLOR IN A BIRTHDAY VIGNETTE... Yet here we see Lilia actually named him Silver as in silver moonlight to guide people in the darkness...

"Even if I have to give up my own life, I want to protect my child", that's a sentiment that both Lilia's princess and the Dawn Knight expressed. I think this kind of thinking probably helped Lilia put everything into perspective and better understand that humans and fae are actually very similar.

SILVER/LILIA HOME REVEAL, we're seeing some point later in time but before present day when Lilia is still raising baby Silver.

Lilia is singing the same lullaby as what Meleanor sang for Malleus in the egg!! Malleus pays them a visit and still doesn't really seem to understand humans (HE SAYS SILVER LIKE A MONKEY????) but also helps watch baby Silver... He even hums his mom's lullaby for Silver, but cannot seem to remember where he heard the song before.

It's so weird thinking about how fae take 30 YEARS TO LEARN HOW TO WALK... What do you do for those 30 years, just lie on your back????? OTL

LILIA READS SILVER BEDTIME STORIES

Oh, Lilia's understanding humans and fae a little better (around the time Silver starts to eat pureed foods). Both human and fae babies cry and sleep, etc. BHFABIYFVQIQEFL hE'S FEEDING SILVER RAT MEAT???????? Malleus has to have the castle prepare baby food for them...

WAHHHHH THAT ACRON BRACELET LILIA TREASURES IS SOMETHING KID!SILVER MADE FOR HIM... Squirrels helped him gather the acorns and woodpeckers helped him string the acorns together. The acorn amulet is meant to bring Lilia a long, healthy, and happy life (something Silver was told by forest fae). Even as a kid... Silver was hoping for Lilia's health... and now that I think about it, the acorn amulet is like a representation of Lilia's own deteriorating health over time... OTL

"I feel like I can live a thousand years with this (amulet)..." LILIA EVEN KEPT IT ALL THIS TIME AND CALLS IT HIS MOST PRECIOUS BELONGING... shUT UP, SHUT UP IM CRYING

ASKHBLIDIBIFIA WE'RE SEEING THE RAINING SCENE LILIA TOLD US ABOUT IN ONE OF HIS BIRTHDAY VIGNETTES???!?!?!?!????!? It's the day Silver realized he and Lilia aren't related by blood...

God, there are so many of the map portions... This time, Sebek is the required character!

The rest of the gang are transported to the darkness where Silver is wallowing?? Sebek sees some of his own memories which intertwin with Silver's (since Baul sometimes took bare of Silver or visited Lilia). It's also confirmed that Lilia went to Sebek's dad to ask for advice on how to raise Silver.

Back then, Baul asked Lilia to train Sebek since he's part human (and therefore "weak" in Baul's eyes). However, Baul still values his grandson and wants him to have a good education 🥺 (Sebek's older brother also graduated from NRC??)

Lilia tore up his invitation to NRC???? But it was his friend Levan who came to him with the invitation pieced back together and kept it safe for the future in case Lilia reconsidered. It seems like Levan really is a diplomat; he stresses the importance of humans coming to understand fae + vice versa, and how it's things like learning a common language that can help bridge these gaps.

Lilia confirms that Levan must have "become a star" by now BUT UNTIL I SEE A CORPSE I'M NOT BELIEVING IT

Sebek's trying to get through to Silver, who's slowly being swallowed by the darkness... HE UNVEILS HIS UM, "Living Bolt"!! "Thrust through the clouds, o' lightning!" It seems to summon a powerful strike of lightning, but I'm not entirely sure what it does because the visuals of the game are a little confusing??? (Like it shows a white silhouette of Sebek moving around, so it makes me think he can... control the lightning??? Or he... becomes lightning itself to move around??? DON'T QUOTE ME ON THAT.) Sebek says he hasn't mastered it yet so maybe even he doesn't know what it can do.

With Sebek's UM, he's able to snap Silver out of it!

THE GIRLIES ARE FIGHTING... There's literally a battle between Silver and Sebek, which resolves with Sebek smacking some sense into Silver. Sebek calls him an idiot and tells him to stop saying he isn't loved, because it's rude of Silver to be this weak when Lilia raised him to be strong (ie "IT'S AN INSULT TO LILIA-SAMA", "IF HE SAW YOU BEING THIS PATHETIC HE'D BE SAD", etc). Way to go with your words of encouragement... 100/10 motivational speaker, Sebek.

Silver realizes that he has had Lilia's love and support all this time... "It's true love", Silver says. The true love that his guardian fairies said would wake him from his sleep... 😭I really appreciate how it was Silver who first snapped Sebek out of his dream-induced despair, and now Sebek is doing the same for Silver.

WAIT THAT'S IT?????? THAT'S THE UPDATE???? ?? ??? ? ????????? 🤡 TWST really said, "I'm coming for everyone's throat and I'm taking no prisoners" AND THEN DIPPED ON US AFTER DROPPING SO MANY BOMBSHELLS... This is just the fate of every book 7 main story update now, isn't it???!??????!?

asidoavyfqevofb I know a ton of really exciting and shocking reveals happened this time around, but while my mind is still racing to process everything... the one thing that sticks out to me is "Ace is the only one without a UM now". IT'S SO FUNNY HOW HE THOUGHT HE'D GET HIS UM BEFORE DEUCE BUT HE ACTUALLY ENDS UP BEING THE LAST OF THE ENTIRE MAIN CAST TO GET IT................. .. . . . .. ....... .. .. . .. ... . . . .. THERE IS SOME CRUEL, SICK IRONY HERE.

I pretty much said all my other thoughts as they cropped up along with the corresponding story beats!! But overall, I loved learning more about the characters and their shared history. Part 5 confirmed many theories, such as the Dawn Knight being related to Silver (and not his ancestor, but rather his actual dad), Silver being put under a sleeping curse that requires true love to break, how Lilia came to raise Silver, etc. It also recontexualizes lore we already knew, such as how Silver got his name, the Zigvolt family's involvement with Lilia, and how Lilia changed from his old self to his current self.

khbhasdsbkuavuofafabf I ALSO CAN'T BELIEVE LILIA X MALLEMOM IS A THING, THAT WAS ONE OF THE MOST SHOCKING REVEALS THIS ENTIRE UPDATE😭 All this time we were joking about Lilia x Mrs. Spade... turns out, Lilia was into someone else's mom... HE'S JUST INTO MOMS, I'M CALLING IT NOW/j

I'm surprised that we didn't get to catch up with the Shroud brothers whatsoever this time??? Not a single peep about Ortho (who has 'woken up and is actively working to help everyone) or even Idia (who is still stuck dreaming)... I really hope the next update addresses how Ignihyde is faring, cuz I miss them and want to know how they contribute to saving the day!!

As book 7 progresses, it progressively calls the image of a spinning wheel into my mind... This is the case especially for the flashback segments we see, which shows us how the various members of Diasomnia are related to each other, and, by extension, their other family members. Lilia is raising Silver, the baby of an old foe. Malleus is visiting Lilia, who is implied to have helped hatch him after his parents died and/or went missing. Lilia asks Sebek's dad for help raising Silver. Baul asks Lilia to help mentor his grandson, Sebek. It really harkens back to the "individually, we're threads on a spinning wheel, but we come together to make something far stronger" line that Lilia dropped at the end of book 6, proving that the spinning wheel and the threads of Fate within it are an important motif for book 7 🥺

I'm fine.

This is fine.

It's not fine

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ghostboneswrites2 · 1 month

Text

You Were Found

Part 2 to You Ran

Summary: Daryl finds you holding your ground against the Saviors.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: heavy profanity, TWD typical violence, minor mention of reader’s past abuse

All things considered you were doing alright. In a survival sense, at least. You were fed most of the time, hadn’t been bit, and had a half ass decent amount of luck in finding water. One other fronts, though, things had been tough. You holed up in a beat down gas station off the highway. Another group — one that seemed to have numbers — frequently rode through and cause you problems. Their beef wasn’t with you, but it affected you nonetheless.

“Drop the bag, miss.”

“No.”

This man gave you the most shit. Any time he saw you he tried to rob you or sleep with you. It typically didn’t work out in his favor.

“Now, what are you doing with that?” He chuckled, nodding to your gun. “Looks a little heavy, darlin’. Why don’t ya hand it over? Let a strong man like me carry— Ahh!”

A shit fired and he fell to the ground, clutching his leg. What he mistook for poor sim was simply your sights being set on his fibula. You smirked and shifted your weight onto one leg, propping your unarmed hand on your hip.

“Oops.” You said in mock innocence. “My finger slipped.”

“You fucking bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!” He cried out, writhing in pain on the cracked concrete.

“Looks like you’re gonna need a few weeks to recover first.” You shrugged, strolling to his side. You crouched down and looked him over, hissing. “Oh, man. Looks like that hurts.” You taunted.

Was it cruel? Yes. You justified it by recalling each time some patronizing, misogynistic, disrespectful bullshit escaped past his paper-thin lips.

“Hey.” You cooed as he sobbed. “Hey, hey, hey…” You hushed, lacing a hand on his shoulder. “Hold still.”

You went to examine his wound, but instead you slipped his gun from his holster and tucked it into your waistband.

You leaned in close and whispered, “Figured it might be too heavy now, you know, with that leg.”

You stood and walked away, tuning out the enraged cries of the man on the ground.

From the trees across the high way, it was quite an interesting exchange to witness. The eyes of a trained hunter, belonging to a man that had tracked you for miles, watched with a blend of scrutiny and intrigue.

As your silhouette faded into the shattered glass doors of your gas station hideaway, he stepped out onto the street, scanning the landscape. With no sign of imminent threat, he strode across the way, heavy boots stopping before the man who was sure to bleed out within the hour. Blue eyes traced the man’s features. He wasn’t the man who Daryl had crossed paths with while leading the horde away from Alexandria some weeks back. No, but he had a feeling he was from that same crew of morally depraved imbeciles.

“The fuck you lookin’ at, asshole?” The man spat from the ground. His voice trembled with agony.

“Just some other asshole that got his ass handed to him by a girl.” Daryl shrugged. The man scoffed.

“That bitch’s days are fuckin’ numbered.” He spewed threats as he desperately cling to the last threads of live, before they were cut short.

“Looks like you might be the one runnin’ outta time.” Daryl mumbled.

“Shut up and help me, man.” The man pleaded.

“Nah.” Daryl shook his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled his half empty pack of cigarettes out, bending down and propping one between the man’s lips. He flipped his zippo open and lit it before standing upright and tucking his cigarettes away again. The man puffed and sighed.

Daryl tossed a final glance at the dying individual before he strolled inside. Upon first notice, the place looked desolate; barren of life or even walking death. Daryl knew better, though. Somewhere in the poorly lit ruins of a convenience store, you were waiting, lurking, searching for your moment to pounce. In all truth, walking in there blind out him at quite the disadvantage.

He was banking on the possibility of your recognition of the man who once meddled in your life and ultimately put you in a situation that forced you to run in the first place. He hoped that’d be enough for you to spare him some time to place his cards on the table, and more than that, he hoped you’d accept his hand. He hoped his deck held the trump card he thought it did, and that you’d be willing to recognize what he really had to offer.

“Coming to avenge your buddy?” A familiar voice called from behind the counter.

“Nah. Came to retrieve somebody.” He replied casually. “Someone who’s been missin’ a long time.”

“Sounds like they might not wanna be found if they’ve been missing that long.” You sighed. The hell was he doing there after all this time?

“‘M sure they don’t.” He shrugged. “‘M here for ‘em anyways. Had somethin’ I thought they might like to know.”

“I’m not so sure there’s anything worth telling them after all that time.” You stood from behind the counter. He eyed you.

“Maybe they could just hear what I got to say.”

“Maybe you should lay it all out then.” You crossed your arms.

“Alright.” He nodded, taking a step closer. “Well, for starters, I been lookin’ for ya almost every day. Me and Aaron.”

“And you found me. So what?”

“That asshole ain’t ‘round anymore.”

“And that’s supposed to make me want to come back?” You scoffed. “I’m takin’ real good care of myself, thanks.”

“Yeah, ‘til them assholes find their dead friend outside and his killer hangin’ out in here.” He countered.

“Then I find somewhere else.” You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t have to, though. Got a whole community waitin’ for ya.”

“The same one that watched me get beat for a year and turned the other cheek?” You raised an eyebrow. “I mean really, they should send better representatives ‘cause I’m not buyin’ what you’re sellin’.”

“Ain’t the same community no more.” He pressed on. “Things ‘ve changed there.”

“Doubt it.”

“Come see for yourself.”

“No thanks.”

“Look, just let me take ya back. See for yourself. If ya don’t like it you can go. I did my part.”

“Your part?” You laughed incredulously. “What — Are you wrestling with some insatiable guilt or something? Here, let me put you at ease. You didn’t do anything but set me free. There. Your burden is lifted; you’re free to go.”

“Ain’t about guilt. It’s about—“

“What is it about?” A man asked, suddenly strolling inside. “Does it have anything to do with my dead friend out there?”

Daryl and you looked between each other then back at the man.

“See, that’s the third one of my friends to go missing in six months. But, I only see two lives here. Does there…” The man searched around. “… Happen to be a third life bidding around here so where? You know, to pay your debt?”

“I don’t owe you shit.” You glared. Daryl shook his head at you. You ignored him and continued. “Those assholes tried to rob me.”

“I see.” He nodded. “I get it, you know. Defending your territory and whatnot, but.. Well, ya see the issue with that is this isn’t your territory. It’s ours. Has been for a long time.”

“I didn’t see a sign.” You challenged.

“Oh.” He chuckled. “I’ll be sure to make one out of your—“

His body fell to the ground with a thud, an arrow protruding from his skull.

“C’mon, (Y/N), we gotta get outta here now.” Daryl urged. You stayed out, feet planted in the soil of your stubbornness. “Quit bein’ so damn bill-headed and let’s go!” He demanded he had witnessed what those men were capable of — the ones from that group. That would make four men they had lost to you — and now Daryl — and he had no intentions of sticking around to see their reaction.

Tires screeched in the distance, headlights rolling into view. Without hesitation, you bolted toward the back exit. “Ah, shit.” You groaned. “Follow me.”

With Daryl in toe, the two of you melted into the trees behind the small building, ducked down in the underbrush to watch as five more men tore apart the gas station, shouting between each other..

“My bike’s not far. We should go.” He whispered.

“You rode a bike here?”

“A motorcycle, idiot! Come on!” He hissed. You followed him between trees, running for what felt like two miles. The voices of people never stayed far behind. They were on your tail, just not close enough to catch you. For the first time since you used to cower from the fist of a man, you felt afraid. Adrenaline coursed through you as you slapped beaches and flies from your face. Sweat burned your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to keep up with the prestigious woodsman ahead.

A break in the trees came into view, Daryl stopping to lift his bike from where he buried it in a tarp and leaves. He rolled it I got he street with haste and cranked the engine. You threw your leg over the back with no question, and he took off. You clung to his waist to steady yourself as wind smacked hair across your cheeks. Gunshots rang out behind you. Over your shoulder, you could see some of them men spilling out into the street, weapons aimed.

You pulled your pistol from your waist and held your arm out behind you, firing rounds at them as they faded from view. You could see one of them drop just as they disappeared behind the horizon.

Taglist || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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lyney-s-bitch · 1 year

Note

how about headcanons about some of the genshin boys‘ reaction to you squirting? I’d like to see diluc, tartaglia, kazuha, cyno, xiao, tighnari, alhaitham and scaramouche ;)

hello luv~

I will split my Genshin writing debut (aka this request) into two parts due to the amount of characters, so enjoy pt. 1 for now!!

EDIT: pt. 2 is up!!

————————————————————————

Genshin boys reacting to you squirting for the first time (nsfw) || pt.1

Diluc

• mans is dumbfounded (and kinda in awe)

• he looks up at you and blinks a few times, parts of his face covered in splatters of your slick

• "Well.. That’s new" he remarks, still processing what just happened while absentmindedly swiping his thumb across his bottom lip

• and you can bet your ass he’s going to make an effort to recall and memorize exactly what he did to get you there

• might even ask you what it was that you especially liked this time (he’ll wait until you’ve calmed down from your high before interrogating you though, he’s not a monster)

• and once he deems you ready for more, he will put his new hypothesis to the test right away bc he definitely wants you to do it again

• he’s a clean man and generally prefers not to get too messy, but in this case he doesn’t mind putting in some extra work for the cleanup after

—————

Childe/Tartaglia

• this man did it on purpose, 1000%

• not surprised in the slightest, but visibly elated at the fact that he finally got his sweet, innocent (on the outside at least-) girlie to squirt for him

• yes, he had been working towards it ever since you first started getting intimate with each other

• he’s an ambitious guy, training and practicing to get better at everything he does, and sex with his girlie is no different

• he can be a huge jerk, both in the streets and in the sheets, but in the end your pleasure and enjoyment is definitely top priority

• and what will he do now that he’s achieved this goal? why of course he’ll keep adding onto it to keep maximizing your pleasure

• meaning overstimulation all the way baby, now even more than usual

• he always enjoys your whining and begging, even more so when you’re crying because everything is just too much

• but he will always just shush you with a smile, kissing away your tears and cooing "I know baby, I know… but you’ll need to bear with it for just a while longer, yeah? Do it for me angel"

—————

Tighnari

• "Oh? I didn’t know females could do that too. You must’ve enjoyed yourself a lot just now, darling" the man with the fox ears purrs, visibly fascinated

• he assumes you didn’t know you could do that either, else you surely would’ve told him before, right?

• meaning he’ll have to find out himself how to please you in a way that gets you this ecstatic again

• like Diluc, he’ll inquire what it was that you particularly enjoyed

• he’s more… detailed with his inquisitions though, and very prone to experiment

• he’ll be trying out variations of "methods" and techniques on you, curious to explore the various reactions he is able to draw from you

• and yes, he does take notes. actual notes.

• so congrats, you just managed to become the Forest Watcher Academic’s #1 test subject and are in for a LOT of fun (and work😭😭👋🏼)

—————

Kazuha

• "Mmm such a good girl for me.. You did so well my love"

• a very humble man, not smug about being the source of your immense pleasure (ofc he’s still somewhat proud tho)

• will thoroughly lick you clean and then scoop you up into his lap to pull you into a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his sinful tongue (quite the generous gesture, seeing as he himself loves the taste of you so much)

• will try to get you to squirt for him again in the future, but doesn’t make it his main goal

• he prefers to just enjoy the moment and the emotional intimacy between the two of you, a "goal" such as this would only sully the act for him

• he’s an extremely attentive lover in general, picking up on every little reaction you offer him upon his touch, so you will enjoy yourself to the fullest every time, whether you squirt or not

• on a side note: if you were to specifically ask him to make you squirt again, he will. he now definitely knows how, and who is he to deny his love the pleasure she wishes for?

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slut4thebroken · 8 months

Text

Timekeeper Raymond Leon pt. 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Raymond Leon x reader

Summary | Raymond becomes obsessive trying to catch a suspect.

Warnings | 18+, canon level violence, smut, I’ll add tags for that in the next part, guns, angst?, idk what else to tag tbh

Words | 3k

Notes | Idk when part 2 is coming because I still have to write it but I’ll do my best to get it out soon.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“I’m timekeeper Raymond Leon.”

You snickered and raised your brows in disbelief— what an introduction.

“What can I help you with, timekeeper Raymond Leon?” He made no indication that he was affected by your mocking, which wasn’t all that surprising.

“Someone stole a lot of time and their last known location was with you.”

“Really? I don’t recall having any visitors recently. Except you of course.”

“Maybe you just need something to jog your memory.” He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a somewhat blurry picture of you and the man in question. It was clear enough that you could recognize yourself though.

“That’s not me.” You shrugged.

“That’s not you?” He asked, pointing to the mostly clear picture of your face.

“Nope.” As he stared at you, you studied his face, trying not to get flustered by the fact that— for a timekeeper— he’s fucking hot. After a moment, he sighed in what seemed like annoyance.

“I tried to do this civilly, but if you won’t cooperate I’m going to have to bring you in and question you officially.”

“Come back with something other than a blurry photo to prove it was me and I’ll talk to you. Until then, fuck off.” He pursed his lips and nodded as he thought.

“If I have to come back, things will be a lot worse for you. This is your last chance.” He warned and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“I think I’ll take my chances. You can see yourself out, timekeeper Raymond Leon.” He only stared at you for another moment before standing up and leaving. The second you saw his car pull away, you rushed to pack a bag, not wanting to stay here and make it easy on him when he inevitably returned.

You did help that man. In exchange for a place to stay for the night, he gave you one of the time bars he collected. You didn’t ask where or how he got them, honestly you didn’t care. With what he gave you, you can spend your days hiding from the timekeeper rather than working and giving him another easy place to find you.

That proved to be more difficult than you expected though. Multiple times now, he’s almost caught up to you, almost found you, and every time you always run. But you were getting tired and the worst part is that it doesn’t seem like he is too. If anything he’s only more motivated to catch you after all this time— as if it was personal now.

You were walking down the street, continuously checking behind you— he’s made you so paranoid that you flinch at the slightest sound. When you rounded a corner, your eyes widened at the black car slowly driving in your direction. You immediately turned around and started walking impossibly faster out of nerves, which only seemed to draw attention to yourself because you heard the siren turn on behind you, making you take off into a sprint. Every once in a while you checked behind yourself, finding the car right on your tail. When you turned down an alley, you heard the door slam shut and then loud footsteps, running after you.

“Stop!” Fuck. Part of you was hoping it would be literally any other timekeeper besides him. But you’ve never had good luck.

You rounded another corner, chest starting to burn from the exertion, and when you turned down yet another alley, you slowed to a stop at the sight of a building in front of you, high enough that you wouldn’t be able to climb over it. You cursed under your breath and turned around to go back and keep running, but he just caught up to you, slowing to a stop a few feet away and pointing a gun at you. When you staggered back, he followed you slowly, gun and eyes completely trained on you.

“No where else to run.” He said, making you look around again just to be sure. He’s right. You were surrounded by three buildings, there was no way out other than behind him.

“This doesn’t seem like a fair fight.” You said, glancing at the gun.

“I’m not fighting you.”

“Well I'm not going with you willingly so your options are shoot me or fight me.” He stared at you a moment, then scoffed a laugh and put the gun away.

“Fine.”

Truthfully this decision might’ve been a little stupid. You don’t know how skilled of a fighter he is and you’re not even very good yourself. But you figured having a slight chance was better than having no chance.

Everytime you attacked, he blocked it easily with a smirk— he wasn’t even fighting back. Wanting to position yourself on the side of the only exit, you started trying to circle him, but he caught on almost instantly and made sure he always stayed between you and the street.

The first time your fist landed on his cheek, both of you were stunned. He snapped out of it though and grabbed your wrist while you were still off guard, then twisted you around so your arm was bent uncomfortably behind your back. He pushed you forward until you hit the wall and then placed your other arm behind you as well.

“I didn’t even fucking do anything.” You spat, squirming in his grip.

“You ran, lied, and interfered with an investigation.” He said lowly, pressing his body against yours to limit your thrashing.

“No shit I ran. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people like me usually end up dead because of people like you.”

“I wouldn’t kill you.” He said simply— as if his words would be enough to make you believe him.

“No… You’d just take my time because I “have too much” and then I’d die.”

“I would only take back the time that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Someone gave it to me. I don’t fucking care where they got it from, you should be punishing them not me.”

“Trust me, we have. But since you aided a wanted criminal, you need to be punished too.” You felt him lean back a little before continuing. “Only ten hours? Where’s the rest?”

“I wasn’t about to walk around with too much time and get myself killed.” You scoffed, thrashing again.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Go to hell!” He suddenly turned you around, slamming your back against the wall with a firm hand wrapped around your neck.

“Where is it?” You clenched your jaw as your gaze hardened, ignoring the way your chest was heaving and your stomach was fluttering from the proximity alone. “It’s not at your place, we already checked. So where did you stash it?”

“Fuck you.” You muttered, making his grip tighten on your neck. His free hand grabbed your wrist and he looked down at it, making you do the same. “Hey!” You tried yanking your wrist free as the numbers kept going down and down. He left you with 30 seconds, then looked back up at you.

“I’d talk quickly if I were you.”

“This is not fucking legal!” Your eyes kept rapidly glancing between his face and your arm— 25 seconds now.

“Either you tell me where it is and I take it back, or you time out and no one uses it anyway.” 20 seconds.

“Okay— okay I’ll tell you, just- give me my time back.” You rushed out, chest heaving in fear rather than arousal now.

“Tell me first.”

“Fuck!” 15 seconds. Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you watched yourself grow closer and closer to death. Should you just tell him? Give him a fake answer? Maybe he’s bluffing… But you don’t know for sure whether he is or not. Ten seconds. “Please- please, I’ll tell you—” You whimpered, but he just waited. Five seconds. “It’s in my apartment!” Your time was going up now, but only back to 30 seconds.

“We already searched there.”

“I- I have somewhere to hide it. Please.”

“Show me.” He said as he gave you an hour. Pulling away from you, he motioned for you to start walking, so you did. “I doubt I need to remind you, but if you try anything, you’ll be dead in an hour.”

“Fuck you.” You muttered, bottom lip quivering. You were glad you were at least in front of him so he couldn’t see you wipe your tears. You can’t even remember the last time you’ve been that scared.

He walked taciturnly behind you, his boots heavy against the pavement compared to your worn down sneakers.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, not bothering to try and face him.

“Why am I enforcing the law? Because it’s my job.” That made you halt suddenly and you couldn’t help yourself when you turned around.

“Bullshit.” You spat, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve been fixated on me for weeks just because it’s your job? It’s only a few years, the other guy had hundreds. Why am I so fucking important?” He stared at you silently, his cheek flexing as he clenched his jaw, and you did your best not to shrink under his gaze.

“I’m not giving you more time until I have what was stolen so I suggest you hurry up.” You huffed and rolled your eyes at his response, then turned around to keep walking. As you neared your apartment, you tried to think of a way out of this. You weren’t lying when you said you had somewhere to hide it in your place but you couldn’t just give it up that easily.

You entered the building and walked up the stairs, then down the hall to your door. Fumbling with your keys, you tried to give yourself more time to think, but he caught on quickly.

“Stall all you want but you have less than an hour before you time out so I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“How do I know you’re not just going to leave me with this anyway?” You spat, turning around to face him.

“Because unlike you, I’m not a liar.” He countered and you tried to maintain eye contact— to not give in. But after only a few seconds, you clenched your jaw and turned back around to open the door.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You said, setting your keys down on the counter as he scoffed a laugh.

“Sure. After you give me what I came here for.”

“I need to go now.”

“Then you better hurry up.” Your teeth grinded together painfully as you glared at him, but all he did was raise his brows, waiting.

“Fine.” You opened a drawer in the kitchen and grabbed a screwdriver, then walked to your room as he followed, carefully watching you. You eyed the messy space and gave him an annoyed look. “They could’ve at least put everything back instead of completely trashing my room.” He didn’t respond. Just waited by the door impatiently.

You walked over to the nightstand and picked up the alarm clock to unscrew the back. You only bought this clock a couple weeks ago for the sole purpose of hiding the time capsule since you knew they’d search your apartment.

Reluctantly, you took it out and set the clock back on the side table. He walked closer and held his hand out, but you hesitated. Despite the fact that you’ve been obsessively anxious and vigilant for the past couple weeks, they’ve been the most relaxing weeks of your entire adult life. You weren’t always hours from death, you didn’t have to overwork yourself to the point of considering just laying in bed and letting yourself time out.

“Please.” You said quietly, looking up at him. “Please… Can’t you just- say I got away? Or that someone stole it from me?” You begged, grip tightening on the capsule.

“No.” Your face fell from just that one word. Even if he gave you back the ten hours, you’d still be dead before you could find work. You looked around the room, gauging how close you were to the door or window and if you’d have a chance. “Don’t do something stupid. You’ll only make this worse for yourself.” You turned back to him, eyes starting to burn with tears once again.

Impulsively, you decided to take your chances and go for the window since it was already open. You barely made it a foot away from it before a gun was going off, making you jump and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the pain you were sure you’d feel. When you opened your eyes, you saw a new hole in the wall in front of you, only inches to the left of your head.

“Fine!” You yelled, voice breaking. Turning around, you threw the capsule at him and he caught it effortlessly. “Just fucking leave. I don’t want the time back.” You knew you probably only had half an hour left, but you felt completely and utterly defeated and exhausted.

“We’re not done yet.”

“I gave you what you wanted.”

“You still broke the law. Numerous times.”

“Seriously?” He just stared at you. “Fine. I’ll time out there instead.” When you walked passed him toward the door, he grabbed your wrist, making you freeze.

“Not yet.” He said, then after a few seconds, released your arm that now showed two hours. “Let’s go.” Your gaze shifted between his hands, one with the gun and one with the time capsule. You knew you had to try something before you got in the car because after that you’d have no chance.

“Remember what I said about doing something stupid?” Your eyes snapped up to his.

“What so I’m just supposed to willingly fucking kill or incarcerate myself by going with you?”

“Yes.” He all but shrugged, making your gaze harden. Eventually you just huffed and walked out of your room to the front door as he trailed behind you.

The walk back to his car was silent and while you tried to walk slowly, every once in a while he’d nudge your back with the gun, warning you. When you rounded the corner only a block away from his car, you recognized the man across the street.

You met him a few days ago. He was on 20 minutes, frantically begging on goers for any type of job they’d be willing to give. So you gave him a day. He seemed to recognize you too, then noticed the timekeeper behind you. He looked the other direction, spotting the black car a little ways down, and seemed to understand what was happening. Pulling his hood up, he started walking in the opposite direction you came from, then crossed the street so he was behind you.

You heard a loud step, then turned around to find the timekeeper catching his balance before turning around to see who had pushed him. You reached for the gun and since he was distracted by your savior, you managed to take it from his loose grip, making him turn back to face you. His eyes quickly changed from shocked, to completely fucking pissed. You took a couple steps back and pointed it at him, watching the other man run away.

“Give me the capsule.” You said, gaze shifting to his hand for half a second before looking at his face again. When he took a step forward, you took one back and adjusted your grip on the gun. “Set it on the ground and kick it to me.” You urged.

“No.”

“Excuse me?” You asked, brows shooting up.

“If you want it, you’re going to have to kill me.”

“Please just give it to me.” You begged, knowing you didn’t have what it takes to do that. Slightly lowering the gun, but still keeping your guard up, you stared into hard, unforgiving eyes. He was suddenly rushing toward you, and it all happened so fast that you don’t even know what you did, but one second he was moving forward, the next he was on the floor. You could see blood pooling in the pavement and you almost gagged at the sight of the hole in his leg.

“Oh my god— oh my god, I- I didn’t…” You quickly threw the gun as if it had burned you and kneeled down next to him, anxiously looking between his pained expression and the wound that was gushing so much blood it almost made you throw up. “Are you okay?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” He hissed, making you flinch.

“Sorry— I’m sorry.” He stared at his leg for a second before growling and discarding the time capsule on the floor so he could put pressure on his leg. “Where’s your phone?” You reached for his coat pocket, making him flinch back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He spat.

“You need to call someone or you’ll bleed out!” How is it possible that you’re more panicked than he is right now? He seemed to understand his options though.

“Fine.” You reached in his pocket and took out his phone to call 911, making sure to specify that it was a timekeeper that needed help so that they didn’t take their time. You don’t know why you did that for him though. He was about to arrest you for god's sake. After hanging up, you put it back in his pocket then reached for the time capsule, making sure to stay out of arm's reach. You gave yourself three days, then set it down next to him.

“I’m sorry for shooting you. I honestly didn’t mean to.” He gave you a look of almost disbelief and irritation at the fact that you’d said something like that.

“You’re not running?” He asked, breathing getting more and more labored.

“I’m waiting until I hear the siren.”

“Why?”

“Because I shot you and I feel bad.” You said sheepishly, making him scoff.

“After all this time, you care enough to make sure I don’t bleed out?” He snarked.

“Would you rather I go?” You asked, gaze still nervously moving between his eyes and his leg. He let out a quiet huff and rolled his eyes. “Please don’t try to find me again.” You begged.

“You shot a timekeeper. You’ll be lucky if the order isn’t to shoot on sight.”

“Please.” You whispered urgently.

“I don’t have any control over that. But even if I did, I’m not going to stop.”

“Please, Raymond.” Your head snapped up at the sound of sirens quickly growing closer. Before you stood, you grabbed the gun just in case. “Please.”

“Run all you want. I’ll find you eventually.”

Part 2

#raymond leon smut #raymond leon x reader #raymond leon #in time #cillian murphy

350 notes · View notes

randxmthxughts · 11 months

Text

Chosen by Eywa - Crossing the Bridge - Chapter 4

← chapter 3 | chapter 5 →

contains: arranged marriage, mentions of war and grief, angst, one-sided enemies to lovers, slow burn

wc: 4.2k

chosen by eywa masterlist | general avatar masterlist

a/n: i know i haven't updated in two weeks, but it was only due to the circumstances. like i promised, i will have another chapter out during the week, bc i'm so happy that i got my visa and went to my concert, so stay stuned, babies. i hope you still like this series and will keep reading T.T

It was awkward. The way Neteyam stood in front of the tent, hesitating to walk in to avoid drawing the attention of the other healers. Awkward, how he had to shift his weight from one foot to the other every few minutes because everyone, except her, had caught sight of the future Olo'eyktan at some point. And it took Kiri to finally shove her so forcefully to look up from her task, that Y/N almost fell face first onto the ground.

The whole intention of spending time together away from the High Camp was to avoid the attention and the murmurs of the villagers about them. More importantly, to avoid running into Kaye and his new mate. But the moment their ikrans touched down in the forest, far away from the prying eyes, the pressure of performing got replaced with an uncomfortable tension. And neither Y/N nor Neteyam knew how to close that gap between them. How come weaving mats in a healing tent seemed to be easier and less stressful than taking a stroll in the lush forest of Pandora?

“Say something, show her the real Neteyam,” Neteyam muttered to himself, trailing awkwardly behind Y/N.

She, immersed in her own thoughts, walked ahead without a clear direction, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her loincloth. Neteyam desperately tried searching for an opening to deliver, and took a few larger strides not to fall behind too far.

“So… how was your day?” he finally mustered the courage to ask.

Y/N paused in her tracks, glancing back at him with a small frown, as if she couldn’t quite make out the words he said. Neteyam stopped walking too, waiting for a response.

“The usual. Lessons,” her voice lacked any enthusiasm that could have encouraged him to go on.

“Good,” Neteyam nodded, trying to offer something else in return, “I’ve had training today.”

“How was it?”

“The usual,” he repeated Y/N’s words with an ironic snicker, recalling his morning, “It’s either getting beaten up by your fake opponents, or by the actual bad guys. Today was the pretend one.”

He shrugged to complete his explanation, something that he had borrowed from his brother whenever he made a joke, as if to give his words a humorous meaning. And though they were quite ghastly, it coaxed a small chuckle out of Y/N. Neteyam’s ears twitched at the sound with a flicker of delightful surprise. He made her smile.

“Well, you look alright for someone who got beaten up,” Y/N gestured at his woundless body, her canines peeking out.

“I’d have to turn that compliment down, since I didn’t get beaten up today,” Neteyam smirked, “You should have seen the other guy.”

“Oh, is that so? That’s always the case with you?”

“No, I get beaten up too sometimes… though not as often,” he shrugged again, this time releasing the pressure of performing, as he admitted to a vulnerability that most warriors wouldn’t, “And even when I do, I don’t worry about that stuff.”

“Why not?” Y/N’s ears perked up in curiosity.

“Well, let’s see…” Neteyam bit back a smile, pretending to be thinking about his answer, “I have a grandmother for Tsahik, my mother used to be the tsakarem, now my sister is a tsakarem,” he paused, hesitating to add, “And my destined mate is training under the guidance of the Tsahik. So, I think I’m in good hands.”

“Right,” Y/N snorted at the comment, and for a moment Neteyam thought that he might have crossed the line his father kept telling him about, but once she turned away from him to continue walking, he noticed a ghost of a smile on her lips, and that was enough of a confirmation to send his heart into a rapid beat.

Neteyam wasn’t even sure why the reaction made him suddenly giddy but it felt like a small victory he could showcase, if his family expresses any interest in his progress with Y/N. And as he continued to trail behind her, though they mostly remained in silence, the atmosphere seemed to ease.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“It’s okay, Y/N, let’s switch,” Kiri’s tight grip on Y/N’s arm brought her back into reality.

Y/N stood awkwardly a few steps away from the two warriors in front of her - one, who looked at her with guilt but still some lingering warmth in his eyes, and the other - who studied her earnestly, looking for any signs of discomfort, as if he could make them vanish. Kiri, who was only a moment ago treating her brother, was quick to read the situation and attempted her best to resolve it. Everything just unraveled so fast, the way the group of warriors stumbled into the tent for the first time in days, seemingly wounded after an encounter with the sky people.

Since they were practically regulars at the tent, each warrior was used to being treated by the same one or two healers, and everyone found their places right away. Kiri too, without a second thought, was immediately grabbing her older brother and getting to work. Which left Y/N standing in front of Kaye, according to the unspoken habit that had developed over the past months. Kaye had a gash across his chest that needed close inspection, but Y/N couldn’t really move, as if her feet were suddenly glued to the ground, weighed down.

Neteyam, of course, watched the scene unravel before him, but he couldn’t do much but just contain himself from making a bigger deal out of it for the whole tent to see. His eyes darted around the room, searching for his grandmother, who perhaps could help Kaye instead, but Mo’at was already busy with placing stitches on another warrior’s thigh, and it would take a while before she would be free.

“It’s alright, I can wait for somebody else to -” Kaye cleared his throat, raising his palms in the air, as if to prevent the switch up, but Kiri simply ignored him, already nudging Y/N to the side.

“That looks bad, you need to take care of it,” Neteyam gestured at Kaye’s chest with much discontent, as if acknowledging the truth made him cringe.

Defeated, Kaye stopped disagreeing, the sting of the wound was only getting more painful when he spoke, and to be quite honest, he couldn’t wait. Y/N’s expression remained stone cold, as she watched Kiri lead Kaye to the other side of the tent. Neteyam pressed his lips into a thin line, watching them two, his irritation finally starting to seep away, the farther they got. He was almost caught off guard, when he felt a pair of cold hands against his skin.

Y/N silently kneeled in front of him, starting to treat the small scraps over his arms and shoulders. Her expression was unwavering, as if nothing had happened, and he wondered what she was really thinking about. Was this the first time she saw Kaye after their fight?

“Stop staring,” Y/N mumbled, without looking up at him, while her hands still worked their healing magic.

Neteyam shook his head to deny her request, and continued to watch her every move intently. Irritated, she hooked a finger under his chin and forcefully turned his head to the side, so that he was met with the tent wall. He chuckled weakly at the gesture but kept the new position.

“You can take a breather, you know? I’m not dying, I can wait,” he suggested.

Y/N paused to stare at the side of his face for a moment, giving him a false sense of actually contemplating his offer. Of course, she was going to turn it down, there was no way she could’ve just walked out of the tent. The scolding she’d get from Mo’at wasn’t worth it.

“I can’t,” Y/N pretended to be unbothered, her hands continuing to work over his forearm, where a few smaller cuts were in need of a soothing balm.

“Why not? I won’t mind,” Neteyam turned his face again to look at her.

“Because I can’t leave my destined mate unattended, can I?” Y/N's voice dripped with irony, and she couldn't resist stealing a quick glance at him, searching for a reaction.

Neteyam's frown deepened, caught off guard by the repetition of his own words. Was that a bad slip? Maybe she took what he said in a way where Neteyam only valued Y/N for her skills, rather than her as a person. Disappointed with himself, he shook his head and then gently covered her hands with his own, halting their movements.

"Y/N, I didn't mean it that way," Neteyam's voice was low, and he waited patiently for her to meet his gaze before continuing, "This... it doesn't matter. I was just kidding. Go on, and take a breather if you need one."

“I know, Neteyam, I was only teasing,” the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

For a fleeting moment, Y/N allowed herself to forget that the love of her life was sitting and watching her from across the room. It felt exhilarating to indulge in the playful banter, teasing Neteyam and pretending that they were a blissful couple, free from the weight of their responsibilities.

“You’re teasing,” he breathed out with relief, “Oh… good.”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “And obviously I can’t just take a break right now. Your grandmother will kill me.”

As Y/N returned to tending his scrapes and cuts, Neteyam bit his cheek, thinking for a moment. A sudden surge of courage coursed through him, and he made a decision, quickly standing up and pulling her gently to her feet. His hand found hers, and the movement surely caught the attention of those around them but Neteyam only shrugged, his eyes on Y/N. She was confused, and she couldn't help but glance nervously at Kaye, who had been watching the whole interaction with unease.

“Let’s go,” Neteyam’s thick-accented voice grabbed her attention once more, and without waiting for an answer, he was already walking out of the tent, leading her by the hand with him.

Y/N had little time to react, on the way out, her eyes caught a sight of Mo’at, who shook her head at the interruption and returned back to her task.

“Neteyam,” Y/N hissed embarrassed, but his grip on her, though gentle, remained unmoving.

“My grandmother won’t kill you, if I’m coming with you,” he explained, without even glancing back at her.

“You’re coming with me? Where?” Y/N’s nose scrunched up in confusion.

“Wherever you want.”

Neteyam was never one to protest the rules. Lo’ak liked to tease him about it and call him a “goody-two-shoes,” but Neteyam was too focused on excelling rather than getting offended by his brother’s weak insults. But he also never had enough motivation to disobey. Breaking the rules only brought trouble, and after careful consideration, Neteyam had never deemed it worthwhile. But here, now, as he led Y/N away from her responsibilities to offer her a moment of peace, he decided that it was for a good reason. That it wouldn’t matter if his grandmother got mad at them and he would take the blame anyway, since he initiated it. But if it meant that she didn’t have to keep working while her past lover gawked at her, then maybe it was worth it.

When they were finally away from the tent, Y/N stood right in front of him, their hands still intertwined. Despite trying to stare down at his much bigger frame with disapproval, there were traces of gratitude in her eyes. Her tail swished with excitement, thinking of how great it felt to abandon her day’s duties and just be left alone.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice carrying an earnest tone.

"No need to thank me," Neteyam squeezed her hand, "My mother always reminds me that those who care of others also deserve care in return. I tend to forget it at times, but she's right."

He tugged at her hand once more, his gaze already wandering off to somewhere else. Without hesitation, Y/N willingly trailed behind him along the narrow path that meandered through the Hallelujah Mountains. Neteyam's grasp on her hand remained firm all throughout, neither of them sure if it was to guide her safely or simply to reassure her with his presence.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Walks with Neteyam had shifted from being an obligation to somewhat of an entertainment. They still didn’t speak much, finding peace in the quiet companionship, as they wandered through the forest, away from the eyes of the clan. In those moments, Y/N stopped feeling the pressure of pretending to be happy about her impending union with the future chief, while Neteyam was happy to reconnect with the forest. Since the relocation of the clan to the Hallelujah Mountains, his time in the forest was limited to missions or overseeing his siblings, never to revisiting his past and his roots.

And while to Y/N, this relationship had evolved into a strong foundation for friendship, Neteyam struggled with his growing protectiveness over her. It felt like she might crumble if he wasn't there to watch over, and the mere mention of her past could be her breaking point. These thoughts consumed Neteyam's restless mind, keeping him awake at night. Alongside with them, his frustration towards Kaye and the lack of respect, fueled his anger, as he delivered another forceful hit to his pretend opponent. Was it genuine protectiveness he harbored for Y/N, or was it simply his frustration with Kaye's behavior? Neteyam felt like a hypocrite.

The future chief groaned in frustration, delivering another calculated strike, disarming his opponent, Kaye. But his anger and irritation were blinding, making Neteyam lose his focus, not necessarily in his movements but within the depths of his mind. He couldn’t stop the attacks.

Kaye fell into his parents’ trap and mated with a woman of their choosing. Yet, he seemed content with their decision and he had no trouble leaving Y/N behind. Did he ever even love her, or was he simply leading her on all that time? Either way, Kaye had moved on, and Neteyam had to be the one who watched Y/N try to deal with the fact.

Another powerful shove, and Neteyam swiftly toppled his opponent, sending him sprawling onto his back. His spear was aimed threateningly, directly at the vulnerable spot beneath Kaye's throat. Kaye’s eyes widened in fear, as for a fleeting moment, it seemed like Neteyam might not stop. He immediately lowered his ears in a gesture of submission to the future Olo’eyktan.

“Neteyam, that’s enough,” Jake's voice cut through, jolting Neteyam back to reality.

With an almost aggressive shake of a head, as if trying to force away the nagging thoughts, Neteyam took a step back and lowered his spear. The fight was clearly over and he was the winner, but it barely even felt like a victory.

Neteyam exchanged a look with his father, who was confused with his son’s behavior. To Jake, Neteyam was one of his best warriors, always in control of his emotions and precise with his movements, and it was rare that he got to witness him being overtaken with anger. With a loud sigh, Neteyam still complied with the unspoken rule within the camp and extended his hand to his opponent to pull him to his feet.

Oblivious to the fact that the fight was twice as violent because Neteyam had developed a personal vendetta against him, or perhaps he only chose to be ignorant of it, Kaye offered a small, appreciative smile in response to the extended hand, accepting the help. He dusted off his back and thighs, and before Neteyam could sign a goodbye and leave, Kaye quickly moved to stand in his way.

“I need to talk to Y/N,” he announced, forcing Neteyam to stop in his tracks, “You must see her, right?”

Neteyam clenched his jaw, struggling to contain the anger that still hasn’t died down from the fight. Just when he started to get the things moving for himself and Y/N, just when it seemed like Kaye wouldn’t hurt her anymore, he was suddenly wanting to talk to her? She wouldn’t hide if she wanted to see Kaye, would she?

“I think it’s safe to say that she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Neteyam’s voice trembled slightly, “If I were you, I would have kept my distance. Just like you've grown accustomed to doing over the years.”

“Ouch, I guess I deserved that,” Kaye winced at the comment, “Listen, I am truly sorry for the way things turned out but I never meant to hurt her. I just want to apologize.”

Neteyam simply shook his head, indicating that the explanation fell short of convincing him. If Kaye wanted to speak to Y/N, it would only be on her terms, Neteyam certainly wasn’t going to take part in helping him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Y/N sat in front of the healing tent in silence, the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows was turning deeper within each passing minute. She was annoyed with Neteyam, who didn’t show up, but mostly she was annoyed with herself for still being there and waiting for him. Her lesson had ended long ago, their usual routine of going for a walk right after was simply abandoned, and Neteyam was nowhere to be found. She knew that he came home a few hours ago, when she heard the shouts of the warriors, and some even came in for a check-up at the tent. So, if he was safe, it puzzled her why he hadn't come. Did he seize an opportunity and forget to warn her not to wait?

She shouldn’t be annoyed though. Wasn’t this exactly what she wished for? To spend less time with him, to be left alone. But it didn’t feel like a win at all, just a let-down. The times when Kaye would sometimes stand her up floated her mind with insecurity. Though it didn’t happen often, she got hurt deeply every time. No amount of apologies from Kaye could ever help her overcome the fear of him simply not showing up one day and giving up on her completely.

Shaking her head, disappointed with herself for wasting time, she stood up, ready to leave. To her surprise, just as she rose, Neteyam appeared right in front of her.

"You waited," he uttered softly, a mix of confusion and gratitude in his voice.

“You made me wait,” she retorted, her irritation impossible to hide as her eyes bore into his.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Neteyam raised his palms in the air, offering a defeat.

And that’s when Y/N noticed it. Before she could unleash the angry words she had rehearsed in her mind for the past hour, or fully grasp the tinge of pain in his voice, her eyes caught sight of something. A streak of red smeared across Neteyam's forearms, clumsily wiped but not enough to be completely rid of. Almost as if he tried taking care of it himself and failed miserably. Her amber eyes swiftly traced the path of the color, trailing from his ribcage and vanishing around his body, and without a word she circled him, to find his back, covered in awkwardly arranged leaves. She guessed that Neteyam had placed them himself, since some of the wounds were only partially covered, and there was dried off blood all over his skin.

“Neteyam, what the hell happened to you?” Y/N asked, her eyes turning bigger in shock. How long has he been in pain? Why didn’t he come to the healing tent and get it treated? Her mind was flooded with questions.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, turning around to face her, though his expression was painted with guilt, “Just a few scratches.”

“These are not just scratches, they look horrible,” Y/N gestured at him once more, “Why didn’t you come to your grandmother? You came home hours ago, no?”

Neteyam flinched at her words. They held the truth, but he didn't want to admit it. There was something embarrassing about getting that many wounds on his back. It meant he hadn't noticed the enemy behind him, which also signified his lack of attentiveness. But how could he pay attention when his whole reality was shifting around him? Neteyam took a step away from her, trying to force a small smile.

“Since you had to wait for so long, let’s go on that walk now, hm? I’ll try to make it up to you,” he tried nonchalantly.

But Y/N was quick to close the distance between him. She grasped his hand and without a word pulled him into the healing tent. Once inside, she gestured for Neteyam to take a seat on one of the rarely used old wooden chairs, thinking that being on her feet would be more convenient when treating his back.

“Seriously, I am okay, we can still go on that walk,” Neteyam tried to reason, but she was already hissing at him in annoyance to stop talking.

His ears lowered in defeat, which he desperately didn’t want to accept, but also secretly had craved. Because even though Neteyam was used to being the one taking care of others, it felt like a sun on his skin, knowing that somebody else was there for him. And he could tell she was mad just by the way she treated him with silence, but the anger was coming from a place of caring.

The wounds he bore were throbbing with pain, located in a difficult-to-reach place. Neteyam hadn't intended to be late; it simply took him longer than expected to dress his injuries. Yet, his heart fluttered with a mixture of relief and gratitude when he spotted Y/N still seated in front of the healing tent, patiently waiting for him. She could have easily left hours ago, so why did she choose to stay?

“You have a whole family of healers, why didn’t you just ask them for help? Why didn’t you ask me?” Y/N sighed.

Neteyam's ears twitched at the touch, a subtle response to the gentleness of her fingers on his back. Soon, the leaf bandages he had grown weary of were being carefully removed, and as she worked, a wave of empathy flowed through her, her tone turning into a softer, more understanding one.

“I know that there is some kind of pride that comes with being the Olo’eyktan’s son, and also this pressure of being perfect and never showing your vulnerabilities. But when you get hurt, Neteyam, none of it should matter.”

“I know, you’re right,” Neteyam admitted guiltily, hanging his head, “I just…”

Y/N tsksed at the incomplete explanation with discontent, taking off the last bandage. Now, fully exposed, Neteyam’s back was covered in multiple gashes arranged at sharp angles around his spine. Fortunately, they hadn't pierced deep enough to cause nerve damage, which meant that Neteyam was quick to react. A damp cloth grazed his skin as Y/N gently wiped away the brown stains of the dried off blood.

“Whether we like it or not, we are a team now,” she continued after a pause, “So you can rely on me.”

He nodded, even though he couldn't see her face. There was a sincerity in her words, something different from before. It didn't feel like mere obligation; it felt like she genuinely meant it, like she truly wanted him to rely on her.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

His earpiece suddenly crackled to life, interrupting the moment, and Neteyam immediately tensed up at the sound of his father’s worried voice. He sat up, and pressed a finger to his wired necklace, speaking into it.

“I am safe, dad, what happened?” Neteyam questioned.

Worried, and unable to hear Jake’s voice on the other end, Y/N quickly came in front of Neteyam, searching his face for clues of what was happening. The future Olo’eyktan seemed to grow more concerned, as he remained quiet to hear his father.

“What is it?” Y/N whispered impatiently, and then she felt it.

Y/N's stomach plummeted as she observed the transformation of Neteyam's expression. What was initially concern now gave way to a haunting mix of guilt and remorse. It was as if he carried the weight of something deeply troubling, something that was unfixable, probably too difficult to say out loud.

“How many of them?” Neteyam spoke again, his eyes still glued to Y/N’s, “And who exactly got shot?”

It felt like the world around her came to a stop, as in these seconds of waiting, Y/N had imagined hundreds of scenarios running through her head. And it could be anything, but the way Neteyam rose to his feet in a hurry, she feared that the worst one was coming to life.

“Is it him?” Y/N’s voice cracked, and Neteyam nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“It is Kaye.”

chapter 5 →

♡ taglist ♡ : @kiri-tuk @samiiistarss @afro-hispwriter @iwantjaketosullyme @thexplosivegirl @peachinsomniac @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @koala-wonderland @sakura-onesan @dimplesxx @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @theycallmesia @crazy4books1 @empiricsad @summertimedepression @vihelm @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ducks118 @couragemydearheart @xstarsmvxz @jkeluv @qtkat @marsbars09 @buckysleftarm420 @soleilmoon @blueslxt-primary @kavyaas-world @books-for-summer @tojis-discord-kitten @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @jackiehollanderr @totesnothere04

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killshotbabe · 1 year

Text

Title | Overheated

Pairing | high school friend’s crush/bf!Jeno x reader ft. nct dream (minor appearance)

Warnings | minors dni! mention of smoking and alcohol consumption, use of swear words, reader stuck in an “uncomfortable” situation, close proximity, drunk!reader at some point, sexual tension, cheating/affair, jeno gaslights reader (or does he really?), fingering, implied solo masturbation, slight somnophilia, a bit "dub non-con" in the beginning, overstimulation, sex under the influence (reader only), dirty talk, unprotected sex (please wear protection!), implied public sex, no romance in any type of context

Word count | 4.5k

Song(s) | red - santino le saint, link up - kid travis

A.N | May or may not have dreamed about the idea of this lol. Just finished it today so happy valentines! (this one-shot won't make you blush that way...)

You’re not sure why your friend decided to it would be a good idea to go out with someone like him to begin with.

At first, you thought she’d get over him like usual, hoping it’s just a part of her “hyper-fixations” just like how she’s got maybe five crushes all at once (from what you can recall in one of those nights you spent hanging out in her bedroom) but much to your horror, it wasn’t as simple as that.

You remember her gawking at him at the cafeteria after she had jokingly pinched you, nudging you to check him out in which caused to roll your eyes and proceed to open the cap of your cold tea.

You didn’t care about crushes at all, and yes, he was cute, handsome even but the only thing that piqued your interest at the moment was that sleek navy blue motorcycle he brought to school. You’ve always wanted one and to say that you were jealous of him flexing one at such young age is nothing but an understatement — you wanted what he had even if you couldn’t afford it.

And that wasn’t fair to you. Not when he barely has to do anything when you’re out here working part-time at a pizza parlour and you can barely even pay half of the bills at home.

Him and his old money status can go to hell, you think. He doesn’t even need to show up to any of his classes and you’re one-hundred percent sure he’ll be able to get into any top universities so easily, he just has to maybe tell his parents—

“Hey, are you listening?”

You blink away from your train of thought, the faint bustle of the library buzzing into your ear.

You realize you’re still in the same place for about three hours now, trying to study with the same friend (which would be your only friend, not best friend yet though because you don’t like getting attached to things, let alone actual people) who had been yapping about him for the past hour, and you may or may not have told her to shut the fuck up in your head twice.

“Wait, sorry.” You lie, typing away as your friend broke into a sly grin after finally catching your attention. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m gonna talk to Jeno today.”

Jeno.

Him.

You couldn’t help but squint, almost bursting out of laughter.

You didn’t mind your friend at all.

She was fun, even if she’s the complete opposite of you. Loved cute things like pastel colours, calico critters and dressed the part as 1/4 of the future art majors in your campus (quirky, and she happened to obsessed with colour yellow), and collects a shit ton of squishmallows she even has a separate storage for it. She’s literally the true epitome of cute, preppy and pure.

Way too pure when it comes to that said department actually.

You weren’t even sure how someone like you were friends with her, and why she wouldn’t leave you alone but she was quite persistent with you — having to initiate things first after meeting you then following you around until you decided to just let her have at it.

Ever since then the two of you had been inseparable.

Though that didn’t mean you two were automatically best friends (even if she did say this a couple of times) and you would be lying if you saw it that way too when she mostly talked about herself, her hobbies, her interests, etc. unlike you who just sits there and listens, nodding your head off as if you do agree (mostly you don’t because you can’t relate or it’s just not your style) but you don’t really have the heart to tell her that… not when she’s generally nice and hasn’t really done anything to offend you.

You just admire the fact that she keeps dragging you around and never gave up on you. You don’t even know what made her want to work her butt off to earn your approval and have her invade your space like that, but you guessed that maybe she’s just someone you might need in your life.

…And that maybe, she’s there for a reason you can’t quite guess.

She hasn’t done anything stupid anyway.

…Until today.

“What?”

You balked, brows raised as she sighed dreamily, already planning her wedding dress for when she ends up marrying Jeno, her “soon-to-be high school sweetheart” as she mentioned just a few times and might have tried to manifest too with you in her room in front of her mini crystal collection she’s been obsessed with lately.

“I’m gonna say hi to him today! I’m sick of him not knowing who I am.”

If anything, you weren’t really surprised with this sudden revelation.

It was about time for her to finally try to introduce herself to him after crushing on him for two months now, and you do know she would have the great confidence to almost pursue anything, including him but you didn’t really want this day to come (hell, the thought of it was already dreadful) because you already knew what was bound to happen once she approaches him.

It’s like… surrendering a fawn to a den full of lions, and you can’t do anything but watch her get eaten, figuratively-speaking.

“You don’t look too happy, but that won’t stop me y’know.”

She winked mischievously, stealing a tomato chip off your lunch as you shook your head, a little smile playing on the edge of your lips.

“Do whatever you want but don’t rope me into your shit.”

You shrugged only to earn a scowl from her, her round eyes practically begging you to tag along when she introduces herself to him later on.

“But… c’mon! You don’t even have to say anything you just have to be there for moral support, pretty please?”

You could only sigh, pausing whatever you were doing just to look at her in the eye, already incapable of saying ‘no’ to her because in your defense she looked too cute.

You couldn’t afford to break her heart by saying no.

“Fine… whatever! Just get me ice cream after then we’re good.”

“Oh, I was about to say that too in case he rejects me ha ha,” she laughs off as she sipped on her watered down mango juice. “But at least I tried, yes? Then we can just enjoy our little ice cream date but I might cry…”

You weren’t even worried about that all, but you don’t say that part to your friend because guys like Jeno fancied cute girls.

Especially the innocent ones.

And your friend just might be the perfect girl for him.

To say that you weren’t right would be a goddamn lie, and you wished you were anywhere else but here, inside Jeno’s black sports car, the posh leather seat cold under your lap.

It’s been a month since the day your friend had introduced herself to him with such spark in her eyes you thought Jeno’s friends might have fallen for her too. One of them was even eyeing her from head to toe, visibly amused after seeing her short little skirt hugging her little frame.

Your friend, on top of being the real embodiment of cute, was still gorgeous and easy on the eyes, so it didn’t really surprise you when Jeno ended up giving his number to her as you tucked yourself away from his plain sight, hiding behind your much shorter friend when she confessed her feelings to him with so much confidence, it made you gag.

You weren’t really sure what happened overnight but just a week after, you found yourself on your own as your friend started hanging out with Jeno, his friends and their equally cute “girlfriends”, but she still made sure to spend half of her lunch break with you, even trying to drag you to their table but you could only reject her offer and excuse yourself because you had to catch up on an “assignment” when in reality, you would rather sit in the library by yourself than sit with them.

Then, today, you and your friend was supposed to go shopping by train but what she didn’t tell you was Jeno was gonna be there to drive the two of you so you don’t have to commute on the way to the mall and on the way back.

At first, you fumed having to deal with him being in an inclosed space as you, but it was indeed cold outside now that it’s halfway October and you certainly didn’t want to wait for the train with you friend in this type of weather (and maybe you did want to see his car up close and personal…) so you begrudgingly agreed, letting her yank you off your misery and plunge you into it all when she voluntarily pushed you to the backseat, your eyes drifting to Jeno who’s still talking to one of his friends, Mark, another guy from his group you do find just as attractive.

You could only roll your eyes as your friend wore her seatbelt on, giddily humming to herself. You gradually shifted your attention elsewhere, quite amazed with the clean and sleek interior of his car, but again it made sense.

Jeno was neat, never messy.

“Sorry, Mark was being clingy.”

You briefly hear him quickly apologize with a low chuckle as he slipped behind the wheel, his classy, citrusy scent invading your senses.

You cross your arms and looked away, trying to get him off your head as your friend’s slightly high-pitched voice cooed him “it”s okay!” and that “we can wait” ultimately, ignoring that fact that she just called him “babe” after.

This was one major thing you couldn’t bring yourself to fully admit — the fact that he’s now officially “seeing” your friend not even after a few months in which you felt no ounce of happiness about.

Your friend did inform you about it just a few nights before when she asked if you could come over and watch a scary movie with her because she noticed you were too busy and had no time with her (and you did feel bad because even if she’s always with him, she till spent some time with you only for you to run away for the most part) but she didn’t confront you about it at all.

If anything, it seemed like the usual chill nights you’d share with her until she brought him up and dropped the bomb on you without some sort of a warning beforehand especially when she can tell you’re not fond of Jeno nor his friends.

It felt like a sick joke, and it just feels like you friend is doing her best to make you change your mind about him which you don’t plan on doing so, not when you catch him doing PDA with your friend here and there you couldn’t help but swear at him in your head and look away.

The more time you had to spend with those two, sometimes with their friends, made you want to crumble or run off to the opposite direction.

They were exactly like what you imagined them to be, a couple of rich, privileged kids with filthy heads, the filth your friend is too innocent to be able discern.

They were sneaky about it too especially that Haechan guy who might have tried to get into your pants before, and you hated him so bad you had to tell him to back off you in which he called you feisty in return with the sinister promise of “you’ll want me someday.” before he left you to go smoke.

The rest of the group hasn’t really said anything to you yet. Sometimes they did but it was shallow and the girls hated your guts which is fair because you hated them as much (and with passion too). The only person you could perhaps stand in the group was Renjun.

The guy didn’t make any back-handed comments and he kept to himself for the most part but he did flash you a gaze occasionally wondering why you’re even here to begin with when it’s so damn obvious you don’t like anyone except your friend who always made sure you were included even if you tried to get away, and when you do try… it always ends with her getting what she wants.

And now you’re here, lost in your thoughts as you bore your full attention to the rows of yellow lights in the tunnel, the loud laughter your friend shared with Jeno mocking you.

He did leave the two of you alone to go shopping, and just came back to pick the you up as promised, then he’s supposed to drop you off first before her then they might go on a date like she told you earlier with so much excitement she couldn’t even choose between the two purses at a high-end store you were helping to choose from.

In the end, the two of you walked out the store satisfied — her with a new heart-shaped purse and you with a cashmere scarf you’ve been fancying on for months now that was on sale (which did hurt your bank account but your friend offered to pay half of it so you can just pay her back with instalments) this then provided some sort of a distraction for you, even offering to buy her a warm drink from the cafe as a sweet treat but since Jeno was already parked by the exit, you had to hurry.

They were still giggling as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the urge to strap your headphones around your head getting stronger the more you tuned in, even rolling your eyes when Jeno asked for her hand so he could give it a kiss as if you weren’t just there, witnessing the horrors.

Much to your looming demise, you try to relax and lay your head back with a determined attempt to lull yourself to quick nap anyway since your apartment is around thirty minutes away, so you fold your arms, turned your head to face the window and closed your eyes.

Not even ten minutes later, just when you were about to actually let sleep take over, your hear the deep rumble of Jeno’s voice.

“She’s asleep isn’t she?”

There was a slight movement from your friend, causing you to hold your breath as you feel her check on you.

“Yep, she did say she was tired.”

“She doesn’t talk much. Why are you even friends with her?”

Jeno snickered, taunting you from the rear-view mirror as you tried your best not to reach out and strangle him god willing.

He doesn’t even know you like that.

“She’s nice! Just give her some time.” You friend sighed, defending your honour which you almost snorted at but pretending to be asleep at this very moment was more ideal for you, you think.

You pushed yourself to further into the door, eyelids slightly parting just in time to see him give her a sleazy wink before you saw his hand land on her lap, making your heart drop at the sight.

You weren’t sure if you liked where this was going at all.

“She’s sleeping Jeno…”

You clawed on your sleeved, clenching your jaw when you hear Jeno whisper rather suggestively.

You knew it was meant for your friend, but he didn’t even bother hiding it, assuming you’re fully knocked out at the back seat.

“If you can keep it down, she won’t know.”

You swore you almost cried, knuckles turning white for how hard you formed into fists when you hear your friend’s shy giggles which enveloped to a series of quiet moans from the front seat when he began touching her down there as he drove, the soft r&b blaring from his speakers in an attempt to suppress the noises your friend was trying so hard to hide so she won’t wake you up, when in reality, you were very much awake to witness all of this happening.

At this point, you genuinely wished you were dead, begging for the door to just unlatch itself so you can slide off your seat and fall into the road to your death than sit here, being forced to hear your friend let out a strangled moan as he fingered her, easily dragging her close to her peak.

You wanted it to stop — for them to just cut it out and put an end to your nightmare but it only got worse as the time went by.

You can practically hear the lewd noises Jeno was making with his fingers as he played with her sheer arousal and the way he was talking to her in such a dirty manner for the sole purpose to make her cum in which she violently did just a few minutes later, an animalistic high-pitched squeak leaving her lips before she heaving and moaning his name shakily with him still fucking her with fervour, overstimulating her.

The subsequent scarlet hue spread on your cheeks, heating your face up, second-hand embarrassment kicking in as you chewed on your lip until you drew blood from your cracked ones, neck craning all the way to your side so your scarf could hide the horrified expression on your face.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or laugh — cry because he had the audacity to finger your friend at your presence or laugh because of the high-pitched noise your friend made. You think it’s a mixture of both and you think you might have gone clinically insane from that alone as this was not a part of your bingo card.

It’s only been a few weeks. Have they fucked already?

You try to contain yourself as you kept still when you hear them share a languid kiss in which your friend giggled to before she flashed you a quick gaze, making sure you were in fact, still asleep.

“She probably didn’t hear that did she?”

“I’m sure she didn’t.” Jeno’s mocking tone caused you to move slightly, but not enough to make him think you were awake all along.

Your neck became stiff after what seemed like forever, and as much as you wanted to stay in this painful position you knew you had rouse yourself up just because you couldn’t handle “sleeping” anymore, so you waited until your friend led him to your street as she navigated for him.

It was then the only time you stirred yourself up, alerting the both of them that you were now “awake.”

“Hey, sleepy head!”

You yawned, trying to look at her in the eye in the dark as you borrowed into your scarf, hiding half of your face.

“Yo.”

You diverted your to the windows and recognized your surroundings as the car halted just in front of your apartment complex, relief surging through you in sudden realization that you’re finally home.

“Thank god.”

You murmured under your breath, hand already fixed to the door handle, about to yank yourself out of there when your friend stopped you just before you can leave.

“See you next week!”

She piped up, her pupils shaking in pure excitement you almost asked what the hell she smoked to look like that when you already knew it was due to post-orgasm high.

You couldn’t help but to mirror her expression, but with a completely different reason.

You think you might want to commit right there if you kept smiling for ten more seconds, much like an unhinged criminal.

“Yeah! See you and thanks for the ride, Jeno.”

“Anytime.”

You see him nod at you, acknowledging your thankful nature (he probably though you were incapable of doing that) before you sprinted off, the two of them watching you attentively as you pushed yourself inside the lobby, cursing vehemently under your breath.

You didn’t even sleep that night, not when you find your underwear being wet from your own arousal after thinking about it again.

You don’t even like Jeno to any degree and yet, you still dreamed of him but not for good reasons.

Not at all.

And if your friend was to find out, it would be game over.

“I might have a friend who can take me in so Tony can come and fix this.”

You sigh, seeing as how the flooding got worse over the weekend due to the nonstop rainy weather and you, unfortunately, still rents the basement of a hosting family your mother personally knew but since they were on vacation in the UK and the main floor is locked, you can’t even access the floor and camp in the couch until the flooding issue gets fixed.

You’ve been on the phone with your host for an hour now explaining everything, and that they were going dispatch a friend to fix the damage shortly but still advised you that you’ll probably want to look for a friend to sleep over at for the mean time which you were okay with but you didn’t really want to do that even if you had no choice.

Hotels were costly so you dialled your only friend anyway whilst chugging what’s left from your coffee cup before tossing it in the nearby bin.

You’re in a local library now, left with nothing but a small suitcase you hastily shoved most of your every day necessities in to cover one week’s worth. Your host did say it should be okay to come back in a week or less so you made sure not to overpack, and you didn’t really want to stay there for longer, not when the slightly murky water felt cold around your feet.

“What? Are you serious!”

You sighed for what seemed like the 100th time today as you told your friend the whole situation.

“Not sure if this is going work but do you think you can take me in?” You inwardly groaned. “I can pay you.”

“Boo, I wish I can but my aunt’s over with my cousins I don’t have a space for you. Maybe after four days? They leave on Friday!”

“Well that won’t work, thank you though. I’ll go find a hotel—”

“No, no that’s going to be more expensive I can get someone to take you in though if that’s ok?”

You hummed, picking on your nail at the thought. Might as well give it a try.

“Sure…?”

“Ok, great! Give me a sec!”

You hear some sort of a movement from the other line before you hear your friend’s muffled voice once again.

“I just texted Jeno! He should be done working out right now. Where are you?”

“What?!” You let out a harsh whisper, trying to calm down realizing you’re in fact, still in a library. “Jeno—? I didn’t even agree just yet!”

“Well, he’s the only person I one-hundred percent trust with you even if you guys don’t talk but he’s got a huge place you can stay in and then he can even pick both of us up for school!”

“No,” You clutched your head in annoyance, trying your best not to hiss. “I— I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why? He already said he can do that though just now and I really don’t want you to spend money in a hotel. Too expensive. Good luck with Jeno though because he’ll say no with paying so you’re in good hands!” She laughed a little, making you huff on the other line. “Please? Maybe you guys can be friends. It gets so awkward when I’m with the both of you and you don’t even talk to him…”

“It’s just…” You try to explain. “I don’t know I feel like it’s so rude of me to just—”

“Honey, you’re not being rude! He literally said yes, and he’s got like two cars over there that you might like. If you ask nicely, maybe he can let you drive one to school? How about that?”

You wished she didn’t mention that at all, especially knowing that sport scars were your weakness in general and Jeno happened own two more aside from the one he drives to school.

You weren’t even sure if you had any ounce of dignity left at this point.

Hotels were costly, and you didn’t want to ask your mom for money to spend in a hotel thinking you’ve got a friend to cover for you, plus what you make from your part-time job wasn’t enough to foot the bill if you were to opt for a hotel.

If it was someone else, perhaps Mark or Renjun, you would probably agree without missing a beat (not like they would offer themselves in the first place, but if they did, you’d rather be with them) but this was Jeno.

The guy you’re friend is “seeing” and the same guy you thought about that night when you shouldn’t have.

You don’t even know if you could look at him in the eye anymore, and now you would have to stay over because he’s that nice?

“Heeeey, are you okay? I thought you ended the call for a second there.”

You cleared your throat, trying to make up your mind.

Am I gonna do this or not? Why the fuck would he even agree to this…

“I’m here sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I really want you guys to start talking… Don’t you think this is a good idea? He thinks it might be good too.”

“He said that?” You almost laugh. “Thank you, but…”

“He did actually and no buts! Do this for me please?”

“You… fine, fine…” You say as you give up, letting her win over you again.

“Okay! Yay!”

You hear her clasp her hands together before she asked where your exact location was again, intending to forward it to Jeno.

In the end, she simply gave your number to him so it would be easier, logically speaking, but you didn’t even want to save his number at all or have that exchange. It felt so weird to have him there, in your short list of contacts when you don’t even consider him a “friend” for that matter.

You weren’t even sure if you were doing your friend a “favour” even if she did say she trusts Jeno because deep down, you knew she shouldn’t be putting all the trust to him, not when you’re in the picture.

Especially not when you’re about to be confined in one space with no one else but him for god knows how long.

He didn’t even bat an eye when you slipped into the front seat of his car as he was in the middle of a conversation what you can assume would be Jaemin, blabbing something about some new pc game he got, so you strapped your seatbelt on quietly, not sure when would be the good time to thank him when you can’t even look at him in the eye.

“K, heading home. Talk later.”

He didn’t say anything either so you slowly fixed half of your attention to the road ahead of you and his one hand steering the wheel expertly, then gradually moved past that so you can finally glance up there, to his gorgeous side profile in which you admire a little.

He’s even more handsome this close, with his tall nose, perfect jawline and glowing fair skin — you thought you might have forgotten your words but you quickly look away, feeling the nervous energy course through your veins.

“No thank you?”

There was a slight tinge of tease in his tone, so you clear your throat, refusing to actually spare him another glance afraid that he might catch you looking more that you should have.

“Sorry… Just sad about the whole situation, but thank you for taking me in. I hope that’s okay with your parents…”

“Don’t worry.” He chuckled a little. “They’re in the Caribbean Islands right now. No one’s home.”

“Oh, that’s great.” You weren’t even sure if that offered some sort of relief on your end. “Always wanted to go there.”

“Maybe if you start hanging out with us more then I can take you there for the summer with the group?”

You think he might be joking, so you treat it as such, trying not to derail from what seemed like a pleasant conversation you two are actually having.

You knew your friend would be happy to hear the fact that you can actually get along just fine, but because of how you see Jeno and his friends in such a negative light, you’re not sure if you had the ability to stop being stubborn for once.

“Maybe.”

You sigh, now shifting your gaze to him again, noticing his muscular, yet lean upper body hugged by just one layer of his black turtle neck. You couldn’t help but to ogle a little, but you do look away, feeling the slight guilt creeping down your spine.

He’s literally one move away from dating your friend, so why do you find it so hard to look away? Not when there are more conventionally attractive guys in the group? Like Mark? Renjun?

I have eyes. I can look, that’s it. It won’t hurt.

“Oh, c’mon the more the merrier.” There was some sort of a drawl in his tone you couldn’t quite miss, but maybe you might have been imagining things. “Let’s see if I end up liking you enough though then maybe I’ll work so hard to drag you into the group and come with us to the Caribbean next summer vacation, yeah?”

Or were you really imagining things?

The first night wasn’t bad.

You learn that your friend wasn’t exaggerating when she did tell you he lives in a mansion.

There was a huge fountain in the middle of a private cul-de-sac, two mermaids made out of a slab of rock perched in right in the centre, flowing water trickling from the matching queen conches.

The gate was tall, and the impressive gigantic lot is nestled in what seemed like a canopy of endless tall pine trees. They literally had no neighbours close by and the entirety of the driveway was an actual boulevard, you think they could possibly fit another house over the area.

It felt like you entered a different dimension — the gated community of the rich didn’t feel real at all. Even the air felt expensive, and just when you thought that wasn’t enough, Jeno allowed you to spare a longing gaze to his two other fancy cars parked in a quadruple-door garage.

He did notice your obvious interest with the exterior of his cars so he lets you have your fun until you found yourselves darting inside his own floor which could pass as some sort of a penthouse.

You think he might not even see his parents even if they were in one house altogether halfway in. Hell, if there was party being hosted by him for two days in a row his parents won’t probably hear any of it.

“I have a spare room when the guys sleep over so you can stay there for now. Don’t think I’d have anyone over soon so you’re good.”

You stand in the middle of the spare room, checking the surroundings like some sort of a curious cat.

It was super neat, had some distinctive art pieces by the walls, but it did look like where they would hang out judging from the game consoles tucked into the black drawers under the gigantic screen tv and the mini fridge with a snack bar situated in a corner surrounded by neon lights.

“Thanks again, Jeno.”

You tell him as he leaned against the doorway, a pleasant expression on his face upon noticing the way you looked awestruck with the room arrangement.

“No probs. I’m just one door away so let me know if you need anything. Usually up until 1 am. My maid isn’t here she’s on vacay so just it’s just us two.”

“Sure.”

He left you alone like that, letting you bask at thought of him even having a maid. You think he might have an entire staff like a “head chef” running the house, but sooner or later you learn they’re all on vacation since they were all related which leaves you and Jeno all alone in such a big house, though despite that, you couldn’t help but feel the foreboding anxiety blaring through you like fire alarms.

There was an itch you couldn’t pinpoint and it drove you crazy the more you stayed over, and even if the first night went equally well like normal, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt wrecking through you, so for the next two days you got in touch with Tony, the maintenance guy, in hopes to hear something positive about the situation back home so leave early.

Much to your demise, it won’t be until a few days so you gave up, trying to calm yourself down as you tucked yourself to bed right after doing your homework on your third night.

Your friend visited you a few hours before but since her and Jeno had plans for the night which involved the guys, Jeno might be coming home around dawn. You couldn’t help but feel the crash of relief to be finally alone for once which was bad for you to admit since you’re literally staying in his house for free, but having him there to share a space with made you feel too damn guarded and you hated that.

It wasn’t like he was watching you either — if anything, you’re the one who was doing more of that especially when you ate together after he offered to cook, and if he did order take-out, he asked what you wanted and delivered it right to your door just because you didn’t feel like going downstairs when you should’ve offered but upon finding out he was in the ground floor from their own home gym, you decided not to.

He didn’t even bother putting a shirt on when he knocked on your door, letting you see his bare abs through the wide split of the door so you were quiet thankful you didn’t make your way downstairs even when the damage has been done and it did nothing but make things worse for you.

“The passcode is the last four numbers of you number.”

He concluded as he gave you a quick rundown of instructions in terms of the security system.

You nodded obediently, quite touched at the fact that he made you your own designated password even if you’re only staying for a couple of days.

You weren’t friends with him yet, but he sure made things easier and was quite civilized the entire time, even putting all the trust in you to be in the house but the cams were all on so he can literally see what you would be up to unless you lock yourself in your room.

You follow closely behind him and your friend now holding hands with him as the three of you entered the garage. Your friend gave you a little pat on a head muttering a “good girl” in a light, teasing tone before they eventually drove away, leaving you by yourself for the next few hours.

You actually planned to do a mini tour and explore the other floors besides Jeno’s floor but because you didn’t want to end up falling to any “trap” doors (Jeno did mention that once as a joke but you didn’t want to risk it) you chose to stay in your room instead and watched movies on netflix with a plan to reheat the leftover pizza from last night.

Around midnight, you found yourself by the mini bar, wanting to try some of the alcohol he had so you pop a Hennessy from the glass shelf into a mug instead to pair with some sun chips to munch on at midst of a thriller movie you picked.

After downing what seemed to be a couple of glasses within the passing hours, you nursed an impending headache throbbing in your head. You could only curse, the thought of being completely hangover the next day already pissing you off.

You were more of a social drinker, but you think it’s been a while since the last time you attended a party and back then, it wasn’t so bad. You were still able to walk and say sentences incoherently after a few shots but this was worse.

You’re severely tipsy at this point, gaze all hazy as you attempt to shut the tv off, squinting over the rolling credits you can barely read off from.

You yank your crewneck over your head after feeling too hot, opting for just a mid-length slip as you tumbled out of your room, wanting to head to the bathroom with the sudden urge to splash some icy cold water on your face but you weren’t fully thinking as to where you were heading until you managed to somehow push into Jeno’s room, arms splayed in the dim-lit space.

You stumbled your way into his own bathroom adjacent to his bookcase, locking yourself in.

You were about to pass out inside, suddenly too sleepy to function but still made it out of there only to end up locating his equally large, yet better bed, his sheets cool under your skin which eased up the liquid fire running in your bloodstream.

You weren’t really sure what you did next, but the faint smell of his citrusy scent from his nice, cold sheets, you didn’t care about anything else and instead, slept through the great comfort of it all.

Unbeknownst of you, Jeno did end up going back home earlier than planned, but without your friend this time.

He was too exhausted to even notice that something was truly off by the time he got into bed, shirt off, sleep knocking him out a few minutes in.

“She won’t know.”

He placed your arms on the curve of your back as he pinned you to the wall in a hallway absent of any light.

You feel his sweet, minty breath on your nape, his strong hand tight around your wrists in a vice grip with the intention of not letting you go.

You were so breathless now, letting him do what he wished, his free hand tracing the outline of your thigh as he yanked the hem of your dress upwards, groping you from behind, whispering sinisterly in your ear before kissing the slant your shoulder, his hand snaking dangerously inside the silk fabric until he replaced your bra with his, playing with your breasts in a manner that drove you nuts.

“You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” He pressed, as you whimpered helplessly, back arched with your behind brushing against his. “Answer.”

“Y-yes…”

You sigh, unable to control the soft moan emitting from your throat when he eventually slid his hand in your underwear, callused fingers rubbing your clit now covered with pure arousal, spreading it all over your aching sensitivity.

“I didn’t even have to spit.” He hissed sardonically. “But I think you’ll like that, yeah? What do you think? Do you want me to spit on your pussy?”

“F-fuck… yeah…”

You feel him pull his fingers off you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact when you hear him spit behind you, immediately sliding his hand back into your soiled underwear after doing so, messily mixing the glob of his spit with your slick arousal you think if he kept this up, you would cum in no time without even having him fuck you at all.

“You’re disgusting…” He hummed in satisfaction, ultimately parting your pussy lips so he can pump a finger in, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your spine. “I like that.”

You hear him groan at the feeling your tight walls around his long, slender fingers, a series of swears rolling off your mouth when he began fingering you, fucking his spit into your throbbing hole all desperate for him and him only.

You rubbed your thighs together in a desperate attempt to itch the pulsating sensation between your legs, the bundle of nerves you eventually pressed on in your sleep made you whimper softly, the pleasurable feeling intensifying the more you rubbed yourself.

This was the second time Jeno had unmercilessly plagued your dreams again — like an incubus haunting you in your sleep, but in the end, he gives you what you desire — to come so hard you thought you’d black out.

You’ve never even drawn yourself to that type of high before you even knew who he was, but after what happened in the car, you couldn’t help but think of how good it would be to have him fuck you instead of your friend.

You did feel guilty for having this type of thoughts about your friend’s own boyfriend, but having him wreck havoc in your head after hours, was mind-numbing, it was almost addicting.

You’ve tried and fought so hard to stop thinking about him, trying to replace his face with someone else like Mark, or even Renjun or some other celebrity you fancied but when you’re just a minute away from reaching your peak, you can’t help but bring him back and let him take over you, his face alone making you come so hard your legs would shake as the raw lust mixed with shame riddled all over your skin.

Tonight was the same, except you were actually in his house and on his bed, touching yourself without any awareness about your surroundings and absolute care in the world, not when you had creeped your finger inside your now wet underwear, intending to finger yourself on your side, but before you could do that, you tucked yourself under the comforter seeking for warmth, back flat on the mattress as you slide your hand back in, moaning at the contact once again, legs propped with your knees bumping against each other as you played with yourself, eyes tightly shut.

“It hurts…” You whimpered lightly, still dreaming as you tilt your head to the side, brows furrowing in frustration. “I need…”

Jeno, who had been sleeping just right beside you, eventually stirred, turning to face you with a sigh, starting to be aware with the noises you were making but thought it was a part of what seemed like a dream for him too so he made no move until you inched closer and closer, now only one move away from touching him.

You’re facing him now, his familiar sweet scent elating your senses, it being the only thing to make you move faster, your middle finger playing with your growing wetness before you eventually slid it in, biting your lip at how tight you felt and wishing it was him doing it for you instead.

“Jeno…” You huff, you free hand snaking under your slip to grope your breast, hissing from how hard your nipples had gotten.

Jeno, now half-asleep, responded with a tired “hmm” as he hovered closer, his hand landing on your hip to pull you closer to him, sealing the small gap between the both of you with his face now resting on the curve of your shoulder.

He hears you purr sweetly, fingering yourself faster when you feel him lay a light kiss on your bare skin, his hand finding your jaw so he can tilt your chin up, kissing you there but deeper.

You didn’t even care anymore. No shame surging through you thinking this was a mere wet dream even if it felt too real, so real you could actually see him in the shadow but because the lights were so dim, you couldn’t make a face but his beautiful scent and warmth was more than enough.

You just needed to feel him, have him ruin you more just like how he does in your dreams.

“Aren’t you tired?” He whispered huskily, realizing you were fingering yourself when he circled his own around your wrist, stopping you. “What are you doing?”

“I want…” You mumbled, distress coating your tone when he yanked your hand from your underwear ever so gently. “I want to cum…”

“Want to?” he cooed, keeping his eyes close as he parted his lips open to suck your slick arousal from your fingers, earning another moan from you before he let you grab him on the shoulder, his own hand now snaking inside your underwear.

“Fuck, just-just put it in, please…” You begged, circling your arms around his neck as you lifted your leg, resting it on his hip.

You hear him hum, the deep rumble of it making your head go numb.

He wasted no time, pleased with your whines when he slid his finger inside your soaked pussy, fingering you slowly until you found yourself in a verge of breaking out of a sob, your knuckles turning white on his shoulder as he fucked you faster and harder at your request, fully attentive with the way you were squeezing him, sucking him further into your throbbing cunt, making him go crazy for how increasingly wet you’ve become.

“J-jeno!”

You half-screamed, back arching as he hovered on top of you, his head disappearing on the crook of your neck to kiss you right there before you feel his teeth bite the strap of your slip, yanking it down your shoulders.

He was going way faster now, fingers curving up to rammed on your sweet spot as you struggled under him, thighs closing tightly around his flexed arm just when you’re about to reach your peak.

“Don’t you want to come?” He smiled sleepily, sucking your left nipple with so much want it only drove you closer to your orgasm. “If you’re a good girl, you will, won’t you?”

It was scary how it feel too damn real — you could even hear him up close and personal and it was too overwhelming, but you couldn’t open your eyes, not wanting this dream to ever end, not when he’s about to make you cum so hard like this.

So you pushed through it, the lewd squelching of your wetness from him fucking into you the only thing you could hear, his equally pleased moans gracing your ears when you tell him you’re almost there.

“Fuck, fuck…fuck! I’m,” You cried, shaking violently as you finally snapped, hands flying on his in an attempt to stop him from fingering you in a brutal pace but he didn’t allow you.

Instead, he forced you to ride through it all as you cursed, head thrown back until you began sob from overdrive, thrashing and squirming under him only to make him pin your arms above your head, your slip pulled all the way to your neck, letting him feel your bare skin, your underwear being torn by him, tossing it on the marbled floors.

“I’m fucking you.” He growled, eyes parting slightly, unable to see you fully but the feeling of having you all naked and weak under him made him a little crazy. He wasn’t even sure if this was just a dream anymore, but he had his own personal desires needed to be taken care of. “You’ll let me, right?”

“Please…” You begged as he lifted your dress all the way to your face, turning it into a blindfold causing you to spread your legs wider for him, too aroused with the way he was trying to limit your senses. “Fuck… just do whatever you want, please…use..use me…”

“Can you even take me?” He smirked, tracing small kisses from your jaw all the way to your sternum as your breath hitched. “You’re this desperate, huh?”

You hear him unbuckle his belt as you begged, wanting him to give it to you already, afraid that this dream might come into an end.

“Please, Jeno…”

“Sounds better when you say it like that…”

He sighed, giving himself a few generous strokes before you felt the tip of his hard cock rub your pussy, giving you a few jabs before he slowly slipped inside you just halfway, wanting you to get used to his size so he waits for a tap which came just a few moments later, and gives it to you, a matching lustful moan being knocked out from yours and his.

“So b-big…”

You grabbed his biceps as he held his breath, trying his best not to fuck you like a wild animal for how amazingly tight and warm you felt around him, squeezing around him repeatedly, almost drawing him to the edge.

“Your pussy can take it…” He whispered, fucking into you slowly. “If I fuck you like this, you’ll take it…and if I go faster?”

“Ah!” You cried as he snapped his hips into you, the wetness of your pussy coating his entire cock, drawing him deeper into your cunt. “Don’t stop… fuck, f-fuck feels so good, so so good.”

“I know, baby…” He hissed vehemently, face buried into the crook of your neck as you let him fuck you faster, the slightly deep baritone of your tone intensifying the fact that he wants to ruin you, even if this wasn’t reality because god knows what he will do it had been, but for some reason, he didn’t felt any type of shame if this wasn’t a dream— just the carnal desire he felt for you, the girl who seemed to hate him for no valid reason.

You clutched the sheets as he pistons in and out of you, ultimately driving the both of you to each other’s peak.

He doesn’t let you touch him, his hand fixed to your wrists on top of your head as your jaw went slack, breath hitching as your legs trembled, alerting him that you were there.

“Fuck, spread your legs wider.” He demanded through gritted teeth, strong thighs stuttering against yours as you obediently did what he asked. “That’s it, pretty girl.”

It didn’t take long when the two of you finally came, you being the first to snap as he followed-through just a few seconds later, pulling out of you so he can cum on his bed sheet instead.

You immediately fell asleep right after, smiling through it all just like he did, the looming taste of regret awaiting to ruin everything in the morning.

Or would it?

You awoke to an unfamiliar bed, already panicking upon finding out you’ve been sleeping in his room the entire time so you quickly pad down the silent hall, disappearing inside your own room with a huff.

You ignore the throbbing headache in your head as sat on your bed, a little shaken and not knowing to go about explaining what just happened if he was aware of it, but you think he’s not even home or if he was, did he end up sleeping elsewhere?

You grabbed your crewneck and fixed yourself in front of the mirror, about to head downstairs and find him when you feel something odd, so you lift the hem of your dress, discovering that you didn’t even have an underwear on.

The memory of him taking it off you haunted your train of thought — last night felt too raw, too real and you think it maybe because you’re starting to be delusional, using the advantage of staying in his house and touch his stuff that weren’t yours.

You assume this might have catered to it all and you weren’t even sure if that’s something to be happy or angry about.

You figured it wasn’t — in fact, it was too wrong and you wanted out so you immediately text Tony for an update before heading downstairs to find Jeno.

Jeno, you learn, was not alone.

It was a Saturday after all, and he happens to be on the phone by the living room, his full attention watching the glowing fireplace in front of him, energy drink on-hand as your friend darted from the kitchen, immediately seeing you.

“Oh, she’s up!” She announced, running to hug you with a beam. “Jina and I are going to get our nails done and she’s picking me up, you wanna come?”

“Oh, um… that’s okay.” You falter as Jeno turned to look at you, gaze unreadable. “I’m leaving soon anyway, like going back to my place.”

“Oh! Well maybe next time? Jeno is leaving soon too but won’t be dropping me off. Jeno, help her okay?”

You avoid the way he’s looking at you now, quite embarrassed with the fact that you literally just slept in his bed and even dreamed of him fucking you. You just hoped he had no idea, and if he did know, you knew you couldn’t bear to show face any longer.

“I’ll plan us another date. Just you and I. I promise!”

You let your friend drag you to the entrance and albeit dazed from the unholy thoughts you were suddenly having about Jeno, you managed to brush it off and watch your friend leave, waving her a small good-bye, the guilt surging through you once again after seeing her.

You were just about to lock the door when you feel him hover behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the sound of his deep voice invading your cloud of thoughts.

“I’m gone for one night and you’re suddenly touching stuff that aren’t yours?”

So he did know. But does he know?

“I’m sorry…” You exhale, sighing regretfully but refused to look at him in the eye. “Got a little drunk then looked for the bathroom—“

“See… that wasn’t the only thing I’m upset about though.”

You gulped as you feel him walk closer so you slowly back away, the shocked gasp leaving your lips as you feel the pressure of the door behind you, him towering over you now.

“What?”

“Do you know what I’m talking about?” He questioned, a little on edge. “Don’t act dumb now.”

“I said I was drunk and I’m sorry.” You apologized sincerely, the overwhelming silence skyrocketing your anxiety. “If there was any damage—”

“No, that’s not…” You hear him chuckle as he drove his hand to the door, cornering you like a predator, but you remain still, stopping yourself from looking up or it was going to over. “Do I have to explain?”

“I don’t…”

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

Your eyes rounded in shock, immediately tilting your chin up so you can look at him in the eye this time, suddenly angry at his accusation.

“What made you say that?” You snapped, watching him shake his head in amusement but you weren’t buying it. “Jeno.”

“You’re something else.” He whispered softly, eyes searching something in yours before you feel him inch closer to your ear, his lips brushing across the shell of your ear. “You’re insane. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Jeno, what the fuck?”

You pushed him off you but he could only laugh, head tilting to the side, a smirk now evident on his face.

He was too handsome, it almost drove you nuts if it wasn’t for the way he just insulted you.

“Guess I’d be the first but don’t worry, I’m not that angry, you know?”

You clenched your jaw, watching him advance to you again with an intent to pin you against the door.

“You’re full of shit. I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about when all I’ve done is —”

“We fucked.” He sighed, reeling closer when you clamped your mouth shut, looking away from him. “Why, you thought you were dreaming?”

“You’re joking.”

“See, I’d like to think I was. The whole time I thought the same until I find you in my bed in the morning.”

You faltered, unable to think straight when you feel him trace the outline of your jaw, grabbing you by the chin gently to make you shift your attention back to him.

“Jeno.”

“You said my name too. Just like this.” His darkened gaze pierced yours, pupils blown. “You like me that much?”

“We can’t do this.” You grab his wrist, pushing him away with a huff. “It was a mistake!”

“I’d like to think the same but for some reason…” He took another step, completely caging you in just like you were always meant to be for him. “You’re fucking everything up.”

“How is that my fault —”

“You should’ve pursued me first, that’s all.”

Your eyes widen as he cradled your face, drawing you completely speechless.

Turns out, he was crazier, even more sinister with the way he’s touching you so inappropriately right now you feel like pushing him off and running out to escape but you simply couldn’t. You knew you wanted him too even if you shouldn’t.

Not when the damage has already been done, and you’ve opened a pandora box, unleashing his hidden desires on board with yours, the sinful thoughts you’ve been trying so hard to seal away for no one to figure out.

“You don’t give a fuck about her?” You swallowed a lump in your throat, a pained expression on your face as he kept up with his ministrations, his hand now holding yours. “Why are you touching me…”

“I like you.” He confesses with a shrug like it was something so simple to do, his piercing gaze meeting yours again. “You think I’m into your friend?”

“You’re sick.”

You say through gritted teeth, raw anger still there but the more you allowed him to stare you down like this, the more it dissipated. The desperate hold you had around it vanishing to thin air.

“And you think you’re not?”

There was that same fiery edge to his tone now, his grip around your hand tightening. You try to break free from his grasp until you hear his phone ring. You were just about to use that as way to completely push him away, but he cut you off, demanding you to stay still.

“We’re not done.”

You watch him answer the call, fear on your eyes when you discovered it as your friend asking if he could pass the phone over to you just because you weren’t answering yours.

“Talk to her.” He demanded, his stern tone sending shivers all over your body when you placed his phone near your ear.

“Hey,” You greeted your friend, trying to sound as normal as you could before shying away from the way Jeno’s eyeing you right now. “Was in the shower. What’s up?”

You let your friend take-over, asking if you wanted anything from a specific shop near the nail salon she was in and had been trying so hard to get your mind out of the gutter for the past minute that seemed to flow by in forever. You found yourself stuck in the middle — part of you wanted to tell her about what you did just like that no matter what the consequences were but the other half simply haunted you, did you really want to stop? When the guilt should be burning you alive right now but for some reason, you hardly felt anything and you weren’t sure what to make of that.

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

“The one with stars is cute but you don’t have to— it’s okay,” You shook your head, completely missing the fact that Jeno had gotten even closer. You catch on to him before he lowers his head to the side of your face, about to murmur something.

“Stop.” With the phone away from your lips, you attempt to get away but he only holds you still, hand fixed to the curve of your waist. “Jeno—”

“Just tell me the details later!” Your friend squealed over the phone. “And tell Jeno to read my text!”

The call ended just before you could utter something but the phone from your hand was snatched away in a millisecond, suddenly finding yourself gasping when Jeno placed his knee in between your thighs, feeling you up with his clothed knee, his hand now groping your breast.

“Quit it, won’t you?” You bit your lip, hand fisting his top as he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. “You want to run away so bad but I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do so don’t lie to yourself.”

“Jeno, stop,” You begged, arousal already pulling in your underwear when he forced you to grind down on his thigh, holding all your weight up alone with just that alone. “Jeno…”

“I’ll let you go f that’s what you want.” He grunted as you began to grind on him, growing more aroused with the way you were whining, struggling on his thigh. He challenged you, even if he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist all of this.

Resist him.

You whimpered as he removed his thigh between your legs, letting you off but you don’t make a move.

“You want to go?” You could only gaze back at him, completely in trance as he grinned down at you, his sardonic expression reeling you in. “Then go.”

It didn’t take long until you finally snapped altogether, crashing yourself to him to latch your lips on his in sheer frustration, an audible groan coming from him as he nibbled your bottom lip, lifting you up, hands all over your body.

Sooner or later, you found yourselves in bed, having to have exhausted each other but there were no words shared after it all.

You weren’t even sure what to do next as you laid there beside him, watching him sleep on his back, head turned away from yours. It was then you felt your heart crumble into pieces, the immense jolt of pain suddenly waking you up from trance.

Do I really want to do this?

You left the next morning just like that, not wanting to pursue this wrong deed at all, and without a word other as you hailed a taxi. You deleted and blocked his phone number and made a plan to somehow try to avoid him and your friend for the next few months, but it wasn’t simple like that, and yet, you tried to stay away.

For the next six months, it was like that — with you and your friend slowly falling apart because you no longer shared classes for second semester and you made no amends to even see or spend time with her, having to have met other friends you shared classes with and then her, with the boys and their girls.

You were also thankful of Jeno not pursuing anything with you too. You barely saw him around due to the fact that he did sign up for more sport-related activities so naturally, he disappeared from your sight. He must have thought that it was clearly a mistake just like you did, and you fought to repent for your sins and you wished he did too.

You didn’t keep track about anything that had to do with them anymore and decided to focus on your studies like you’ve always had from the beginning to prepare yourself for graduation and university requirements. Your great efforts did pay off in the end, having to graduate with almost on top of all your classes and getting into one of your top three universities.

Life seemed great for you — quite elated for the next journey you’re bound to go on for the next two years now that senior year was over and so was the evening dinner you had to attend because it was mandatory despite wanting to opt out of it but you made sure to leave early as you had no plans to sit in the fancy banquet of a five-star hotel and “get entertained” when everyone either sat around to chill or lose themselves in the dimmed down dance floor.

By 11 pm, you bid your goodbyes to a panel of teachers, one of them being your favourite, just in the next room in the hall, then gunned down to the parking lot where you parked your car.

You dug your keys in your purse, humming to yourself when you spot someone’s slick black shoes right next to your car so you stop and blink, shifting your attention the wide plain of his familiar broad back, his white dress shirt being the only article of clothing he has on with some tailored black plants that probably cost five months worth of rent.

“Jeno.”

“Nice ride you got.” He drew the cigarette away from his lips, grey smoke hitting your face as you slowly took a step back, unable to form any coherent sentence upon realizing that he’s standing before you now. “New model too. Gift, maybe?”

You do know you’ve been trying to avoid him.

As much as you tried however, he was there, always in a crowd and you never missed a handsome face like his. He burned in the back of your head so easily, but it was too difficult to get him out no matter how many distractions you could come with, and even if most of it worked in your favour he still lived inside your head like a parasite.

A parasite you may never end up getting rid of.

“I’m going home.” Was all you said, trying to stay stoic and unaffected as he advanced to you, even more irresistable now that he’s worked out more and grew his hair a little longer, a strand from his gelled back fringe curving on his forehead and it did nothing but clench your jaw.

He was just too handsome, you were close to believing no one would be able to resist him at all, not even the new arm candy he brought as a date to dinner since your he has apparently broken up with your friend a month before graduation due to a sudden drastic change in her family’s living situation.

You soon find out she was never coming back, and apparently “long distance relationships” wasn’t Jeno’s thing.

“This early?”

There was a coy smirk on his face, cigarette resting between his lips. You stood there, liking the smell, reminding you of your father back home so naturally, you stayed where you are, feet starting to hurt from the five inch heels you regretfully wore to dinner.

“Yeah, I have work the next morning.”

He’s one step away from you now, his full attention scanning your red dress from head to toe, liking the tight fit around your soft curves. You try to stand your ground anyway, albeit about to burst into shivers from the way he narrowed his eyes to you now, blowing another puff of grey you ended up inhaling into your system as well for how damn close he’s gotten, invading your comfort zone.

“That’s a shame.” He circled around you like some sort of a predator, but without touching you until you feel him stop just inches away, his hard chest brushing against your back. “Well go on, your car is right there.”

Your breath hitched as you began to walk to your car, unlocking the back door to throw your purse into with a slam. You don’t say anything as you placed your hand on the handle, chewing on your lips as he quirked an eyebrow, wanting to know what seemed to make you look a little stressed and all tensed up.

“Your date.” You slowly met his amused gaze. “How long?”

“Didn’t sleep with her if that’s what you were wondering.” You didn’t even want to lie — the wave of relief crashed through you, engulfing you in so you let go of the handle and headed to him, letting your burning desire drag you all the way to his arms as he pulled you into a suffocating embrace. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Jeno flung his cigarette off his lips to kiss you hungrily causing you to moan in his mouth, tasting the peppermint candy he’s had and the slight bitterness from the cigarette but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care until he threw you in your backseat, ripping your underwear off you so easily and gave it to you right there and then, until you were in a verge of tears, unable to think straight as you moaned his name all over again like some sort of a mantra, dragging the both of you into eternal hell.

And to hell with him it is.

#jeno x reader #nct jeno smut #jeno smut #jeno x you #nct dream smut #nct smut #kpop smut #lee jeno smut #one shot smut #killshotbabe

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amywritesthings · 5 months

Text

mistletoe (on the clock.) / nanami x you

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader word count: 1.7k summary: It's your annual holiday party at the office. You and your coworker Nanami Kento end up in a precarious yuletide predicament. tags: mistletoe, holiday office party, explicit language, sexual tension, hair pulling, kissing, make corporate speak horny in this house

part of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!!

Office holiday parties shouldn’t be mandatory.

Eight, sometimes bordering up to twelve, hours under fluorescent lights was more than enough anguish — add four extra mandatory 'fun' hours and you see why half of your colleagues spend their nights bar hopping to cope.

However, if these annual holiday parties weren't mandatory, most of your colleagues would never bother showing up in the first place.

You sure as hell wouldn’t.

(And you're pretty sure the tall blonde you spy from across the room wouldn’t, either.)

It’s only your first year with the company, but it’s already one year too many.

You'd taken a few gap years between college to figure your shit out, travel a little, but you still ended up in the grand corporate scheme.

The nine-to-five lifestyle is nothing less than soul sucking. Commuting back and forth is such a pain.

By the time you make it back to your tiny one-bedroom flat, the night is too cold to enjoy anything beyond your warm bed.

But... there are perks to the job, sometimes.

Free lunches are great.

Business connections don't hurt.

Not to mention you've grown fond of one person who makes your commute a little tolerable:

Tall. Blonde. High cheekbones. Voice as smooth as honey.

Nanami Kento.

Stoic on the outside yet considerably kind on the inside, Nanami has equal parts ruined and consumed your days.

The sheer sight of him in his tailored suits without a strand of hair out of place can make you weak in the knees, so you make it a point to always talk to him sitting down.

And he seems to like you, for what it’s worth.

Nanami always makes sure to bring you tea and water in the morning to stay hydrated.

He stops by your cubicle to tell you there's free catering in the break room if you missed the memo.

No matter how late you end up staying, he always makes it a point to never let you walk to the train station alone.

It’s sweet.

It’s more than what anyone else has ever done for you in your life, so naturally?

You're into him.

Bad.

Of course, that means you’re too chicken to invite him over for dinner.

God knows you can’t cook a decent course to save your life, but you’d order in — it’s only one string away from officially asking him on a date, masked as a favor repaid.

('Tis the damn season; it may be your time to take a little leap of faith if he's going to be standing there all alone for this insufferable party.)

Emboldened by the spiked eggnog in your system, you decide to jump:

You make a beeline through the crowds of laughing colleagues, all varying stages of intoxicated, straight to him.

In truth, you're eager to blend as a wallflower beside him.

Nanami almost instantly catches you in the crowd, but he makes no motion to meet you in the middle.

He moves a pace to the right, silently offering you the corner to hide in.

You have to be brave.

You have to make the first real move.

(Attractiveness aside, it's just Kento. He must be at the end of his social battery, too.)

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hello,” he replies, smooth as butter.

“Having the time of your life over here?” you joke, pressing your back into the wall.

He hums in a noncommittal fashion. “At the very least, this party is much more tame than the one they threw last year.”

“Is it?”

Kento nods. “Someone overserved. Shirts flew. Marriages shattered.” His strong brow furrows. “Though I wanted to ask, even though I've been here longer: has Mr. Hiro always been a happy drunk? I recall differently.”

“No, that’s a fairly new development. His wife finally finalized the divorce last week,” you gossip under your breath. “I had to field the call myself.”

“Oh?” Nanami asks, turning a sharp chin your way. “Ugly?”

“Very.”

“To call and finalize over the phone at the office is—”

“Ballsy.”

A sly smile tugs at the corner of his lip. “I was going to say a choice, but sure.”

Nanami clinks his ceramic ‘work hard, play harder ’ slogan mug to yours — a past gag gift from that Gojo Satoru friend of his, you’re sure — and pushes his body from the wall.

“Do you need a refill?”

You nod, holding up your empty eggnog mug.

"Thanks."

"How spiked do you want it?"

"Blackout levels," you joke. It earns you an even larger smile, albeit shortly lived.

He plucks the handle from you easily enough, but you notice how his eyes flutter above your heads and… stay there.

Weird.

Unable to help yourself, you lift your chin to see the captivating problem for yourself:

Hovering over the two of you this entire time has been a pesky little bundle of leaves, tied together with a tiny red bow.

Shit.

Mistletoe.

(Were these things even allowed in the office? Surely hanging one constituted breaking at least four different Human Resources violations in one swift sweep.)

You open your mouth to make a joke, but—

“Has that been there?” Nanami asks, and you can feel your face grow hot.

“I— Maybe?” You clear your throat. “Did you stand under it on purpose?”

(Way to go, moron.)

Nanami considers, then shakes his head.

“I had no intention of kissing anyone in our office, I assure you,” he replies, and you feel yourself deflate a little. “Though I guess this is an opportune moment.”

Oh?

You pretend to look unbothered, arms crossed over your chest.

It takes you biting your tongue to avoid asking outright.

“What do you mean, opportune?” you ask instead.

Blink and you’ll miss it: Nanami smiles, albeit barely, before turning his chin back to the mistletoe in question.

“I would prefer taking a woman out to dinner before kissing her, but I suppose if you were interested, then we could be a little unconventional. It’s likely the swift kick in my ass I needed.”

Your brows slide to your hairline as you regard him in equal parts confusion and hope.

“Wait, you…”

Words.

You have to remember how to speak.

The whole point of this job was to be suave, but you’re failing miserably at it at the moment.

“You were interested in going to dinner with…”

“You?” Nanami finishes, and he angles his larger frame towards you. “Was it never obvious?”

Obvious?

Now you really felt like a fish out of water.

Nothing about Nanami Kento was obvious.

You could barely get a read on him, even if he did all of those really nice things for you—

Oh.

The realization hits you like a subway train, leaving you breathless.

The blonde stares down at you, patiently waiting for an answer.

You blurt. "Do you still want dinner after?"

"I don't think many places are open at this hour, but if you're not hungover tomorrow, I could call."

"I'm not picky," you reply. "I love takeout."

"We're not getting takeout on our first outing," Nanami snorts.

"Like I said, very-much not picky."

A moment passes.

You both stare at one another, waiting for the right timing to...

Well, do anything.

He wants to take you out to dinner.

Nanami fucking Kento wants to take you out—

And kiss you.

Actually, that part is more important right now.

"So the... unconventional part."

"The mistletoe," he adds.

"Right. Is that still on the table?"

"Do you want it to be on the table?"

"Is that a serious question?" you counter, before leaning in a little closer. "Okay, but what if someone sees?"

Nanami shrugs a shoulder, resting his bare forearm against the wall you lean against. His button-down shirt is rolled up to the elbow, making your mouth water.

His body shields you from the rest of the people in the office.

One quick peck and none of the drunks on this floor would be any wiser.

“Are you that concerned?” he asks.

When his featherlight touch raises your chin to meet his gaze, he makes your decision right there and then.

You’ve wanted Nanami for so damn long.

Now the opportunity is presented to you like a holiday gift, and you’re not one to be ungrateful.

“Not anymore,” you admit, wrapping your fingers around his speckled yellow and black tie.

Like two magnets, you pull him in by the tie and he drags you in by the chin, connecting your lips in a searing kiss.

Nanami is warm, stronger than you anticipated. You melt against his lips as they gingerly move against yours.

You want him to push you against this wall.

You want to what he'd do if you dropped to your knees the way you’ve imagined doing every single time he’s sitting at his desk with those goddamn dress slacks bunched against his thighs.

You want so much in so little time that you bite his lower lip, causing the blonde to groan with need.

He slides his fingers along your jawline, snaking up past your ear and into your hair.

His fingers curl around the strands, tugging playfully.

Then, abruptly, he pulls away.

No.

Too soon.

You could topple over with how quickly you chase him, but he stops you with his index finger pressed to your lips.

“Nanami!”

A voice calls him, slurred and hiccupped, from the other side of the room.

You freeze, unable to do anything but stare into his brown eyes.

“Get your ass over here!”

“Group photo,” Nanami reluctantly murmurs to you, and your shoulders sag. “Before everyone starts digging out the hard liquor.”

Still, he leans back in to drop a gentle peck to the tip of your nose.

When he pulls away, he drops the arm against the wall to hold his palm out to you — an invitation.

“Let’s circle back after.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice.

You take his hand and never look back.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk x you #nanami kento fanfic #nanami kento fluff #jjk fanfiction #nanami kento fanfiction #amywritesthings #twelve days of amymas #fic: mistletoe on the clock

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enihk-writes · 5 months

Text

[hard to recall]

part of the [architect!reader] series can be read together with the other fics or as a standalone

pairing: pbss!chung myung x gn!they/them!reader

will be alternating povs from pbss!chung myung and mhdd!chung myung

summary: a hundred years and a few remnants later

word count: 5.50k

author's note: i got very demotivated towards the end but the og plot was supposed to be reader comes back from work to see mt hua in shambles and they tear down all the buildings they built just to secure funds and that's why the current sect looks so bare, and it's heartbreaking because reader is an architect and this was their life's hard work and cm knows that too and he realised there was virtually nothing left of that could remind him of them, like they put their soul into these structures and now it's gone type of thing,, and in the chaos of the aftermath when there was no one to lead the sect as the remaining elder they have to do it and everyone knows they tried their best and that they died miserable,, cm was supposed to find this out bit by bit through hyun jong and the other current elders... BUT like i said, i got suuuuuper demotivated towards the end because of writer's block so i scrapped the og idea... maybe i might come back to try writing it, but not in this story rn...

═══════════════

what does it mean to be loved?

what does it take to be loved?

power? fame? money? or was it a good heart?

═══════════════

they've always had a good head on their shoulders. some have said that it was a little too good. poised steady and head held high no matter the situation, had they been able to carry a sword like he, who knows what they could have accomplished?

but alas, they were not destined for such things.

the natural state of their qi clashed with the martial arts of mount hua. like water on fire, and it had left them weaker after each training session. they were lucky, having discovered this flaw early, or else they might have suffered more down the line.

talent is something you nurture to bloom.

he looks at them, eyebrows raised in questioning.

i'm going off to see what else i can do.

and just like that, they left. nothing much changed in his life. though, sometimes, he does feel as though it wasn't as noisy as it should have been. it's almost like there was a hard-to-ignore scratch on a perfectly polished marble.

the food tasted more bland now that they weren't watching over the cooks with an iron fist. the clothes didn't feel as crisp now, since the ones on duty these days didn't leave it out in the sun for as long as they used to. and dust was now left to collect in corners until it became too much to ignore, it wasn't like that when they were here — they would have gone down on their hands and knees to clean those annoying places obsessively.

he also might have missed that there was someone who talked to him like a peer, an actual peer, over most of the others who either talked to him like a child, their unreliable junior, someone to be feared and respected. it's nice to have someone your age to talk to, and he never really thought he needed that sort of companionship until they were gone.

well, he doesn't mind waiting. he was a pretty hard worker too, and wouldn't it be a little embarrassing for him if he had nothing to show for when they came back?

three years flew by so quickly, and he walks up to the front gates one unassuming day to find them reaching over to knock on the door.

he was a little shocked.

well, not shocked in the ah sense. but in the ahhhhh sense.

when they stood next to each other side-by-side, his mood went a little sour when he sees that they were still not much different in their height. he was hoping that he had grown more then they did.

welcome back.

mmh, i'm home~

he didn't ask about what they've been up to in the past three years while they were wandering across the country.

the elders seemed pleased when they all walked out of that long meeting, the elder in charge of the finance hall in particular looked a little happier than when he walked into the room.

huh. he would be lying if he said that this didn't make him wonder what happened to them in the past three years.

still, he kept his mouth shut, preferring to watch from the sidelines instead. grinning at them when they walked over in his direction, slinging an arm over their shoulders, annoying them like they hadn't ever left home.

dinnertime was noisy, the table where they sat was swarming with so many other disciples — all wanting to hear of their stories of the outside world. chung myung can't blame the others much, most of them weren't allowed to leave the sect grounds until they reached a certain age.

oh, him? he didn't get permission either, he just does it because he never cared about the rules. and it was this mindset that had all his seniors and other elders of the sect rubbing their temples in exasperation.

he watched from across the dining hall, chin propped in his hand, as the littlest ones tried to garner their attention by pawing at their thigh with small and chubby hands.

they laughed at the children's antics, carrying the youngest up from the ground, resting her on their lap as she was lulled to sleep against their chest. for a moment, they caught chung myung's gaze, looking at each other through the gaps between the crowd of people. they smile shyly at him, looking away when one of the older sect sisters asks them something.

chung myung's lips pull into a thin line, looking down at his half-empty plate of food awkwardly.

he wasn't sure why he wished for a moment that they were the only ones there in the dining hall then. maybe he wasn't used to having to share them with anyone, it was always just the two of them. with how chung myung was so quick to pick fights, nobody his age wanted to hang around him. only they had the patience to even try. and because of that, they slowly lost their friends — because if anybody wanted to be friends with chung myung, that person surely had something wrong with them.

he felt bad. knowing that he was the reason why nobody wanted to associate with them was a shitty feeling. he tried to chase them away in the beginning, never resorting to hurting them but he wasn't ever nice to them either.

go away!

nuh-uh!

that was always the way they greeted each other back then. he would hide from them in the tallest cupboards in the kitchen or in the trees or even the rooftops but they must have learnt something from his chung mun sa-hyung with how they still caught him each time effortlessly.

right.

this is how it's supposed to be. seeing them surrounded by so many people, all looking at them in awe and wonder. this was how they should have lived all this time.

the usual appetite he had vanished. pushing the food away, chung myung gets up to leave, slipping away into the cold night and away from the action.

white puffs of air float upwards at each exhale, gravel crunched under his feet as he drags them to bring him back to his room. he doesn't make it far though — there was a pitter-patter of light footsteps coming his way. he sighs and chuckles to himself.

he would know that sound of footsteps anywhere.

looking over his shoulder, he sees that the toddler sleeping soundly in their arms. it was amazing, how they managed to carry the child running without waking her up from all that shaking. he wonders for a moment if...

chung myung-ah.

he tilts his head.

let's put her to bed. she must be tired from staying awake for so long, poor baby.

he listens to them coo softly over the little girl's nose scrunching up from the cold. chung myung curiously pokes at the mounds of fat stored on the child's cheeks, snickering when the kid frowns in their sleep, grunting in protest.

they gasp and slaps his hand away.

hey! don't do that!

they whisper-yell, cradling the fussing baby's head closer to their chest, shushing her cries. rocking their arms, hoping the child would go back to sleep, which she thankfully did.

chung myung only looks away from their accusatory gaze.

═══════════════

there used to be a nursery a little aways from the main dorms.

it wasn't there anymore. much like most of the buildings that used to stand here in mount hua back in its heyday.

it was just one of the many little things that had been torn down from trying to salvage sellable materials. that was nothing more than a product of time, and the actions taken by a sect struggling to feed the mouths living there.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

why would you do something this pointless?

chung myung couldn't understand them. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, talking to them through their window, with him on the outside as they were drawing out lines on a parchment paper by candlelight.

hm... but i don't think it's pointless though?

they state simply, not once looking up from their work. feeling neglected, chung myung whines a little. they were finally back after a good few years and now that he wanted to spend time with them, they're too busy? please look at me. he wants to say, beg even.

you're awfully clingy these days.

he hears their breathy chuckle. and the corners of their eyes crinkle up, lips barely hiding that wide toothy smile he'd missed seeing. though, it looked less childish than he last remembered. that's right. they're both grown up now, they're both adults now.

he wishes that they could be kids forever.

mostly because kids don't think too hard or dwell too long on things that hurt their brains. and whatever new winds that have begun to sail on the ship since they've returned to mount hua, was bringing them to a different destination than he thought they'd end up. he wasn't going to gamble on the possibility that they might have taken notice of this subtle change like he did too. all these thoughts hurt his head.

he listens to the sounds of the calligraphy brush dragged across the paper, tingles travelling up to his brain. it was late, he should be back in bed... but...

ahh...hnn...

chung myung yawns, not bothering to be polite around someone he's known his whole life. he hears them giggle again, but this time, they set their brush aside. leaning across the table, their fingers fiddled with something, soft clanks of wood bumped into each other for a moment before the window was finally thrown open.

come inside.

they call out to him with that same soft smile.

woah there! you shouldn't be inviting a man into your private quarters so easily like this! what if he misunderstands something... this is so intimate you know...

he gasps dramatically, even if this wasn't his first time in their room, this was his first time in their room as an adult. it was very much a significant thing to him.

they laugh again.

...you jest. we're friends, what's there to misunderstand?

ah. of course. they were only friends. nothing more, nothing less. what was there to get confused about?

he wordlessly climbs in through their window. taking off his boots before putting his foot down on their pristine floorboards. it's hard to forget about that time they scolded his ear off for dirtying the floor they had freshly cleaned.

you still remember to take your shoes off huh?

they mumble quietly.

you don't have to do that anymore though. i'm not as nit-picky as i used to be. i can always clean it up again.

he thinks they've certainly changed quite a bit.

his thoughts wander more, but his gaze never once leaving the drawings that came into being on the paper. thin and thick lines that formed into what he recognised as the entire scale layout of the current mount hua seen from above. he marvels at their small drawings of furniture in each of the miniature rooms.

he moves to stand behind them, eventually sitting on their bed after changing into the spare set of sleeping attire they've kept in their wardrobe just for him.

as the night wore on, he finally succumbs to his tired state, burrowing under the covers of their bed. he calls out to them to go to bed too, but it seems they've chosen to ignore him in favour of their work. he didn't have half the mind to try again — not when they had that look in their eye. it was almost like a possession, some innate obsession that they'd somehow unearthed within themselves in the three years they were gone.

he doesn't remember them ever being like that. if anything, they were the most laid-back person he's ever known. with no particular ambition, no wants beyond what they needed... not much plans for their future. he didn't know what happened to them before they decided to leave, he still hasn't asked them about what happened in the time they were away. they've changed, and deep down he feels a little bitter for getting left behind, falling asleep with those thoughts running in his mind.

the next time he woke up, it was the beginning of daybreak. the room was still dark even with the sky slowly turning into a pale violet. he felt the covers lift and they climbed into bed as quietly as they could, not realising chung myung was very much awake.

ah!

they gasp, startled by the red of his irises staring right at them from under the blanket's dark shadows.

you scared me...

they mumble and whine tiredly, falling into his chest, his outstretched arms circling their waist, pulling them closer.

m'sorry...

his lips ghost on the crown of their head, a hand hesitates to cradle the back of their neck. what if that was too much? sure, they've huddled together under the covers on cold mornings like this countless times before... but they were younger then. now, things have changed. but maybe it's more him than they, or it was both.

he could think about that later. right now, he feels so warm and relaxed he feels himself drifting back to sleep again.

═══════════════

that day when he had dug into the ground to find the secret vault for the ledgers, he just barely missed the pile of scrolls sitting on the bottom of the bookcase.

he got curious, opened them and saw a set of familiar drawings.

the lines were faded from a vibrant black to a faint grey and the parchment had also turned a little yellow on the edges. his fingers traced over the writing at the corner of the paper. it was a signature of that person's name. he tries and fails to remember the way their hands held onto that brush they'd often used.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

recently, the elders have been discussing about what to do with some of the main halls.

you see, they've neglected the management of the buildings in favour of setting aside the budget for other matters like investing in expanding the local businesses or other miscellaneous affairs. they'd figured there wasn't really a need to keep up with building maintenance, not when these halls have been standing well and good for the past few centuries.

though the main issue now was that there was a wee bit of a nothing-too-serious case of termite infestation going on in the wooden frames on a select few of the said buildings. ugh, more work everyone around.

oh! but it's not for chung myung though!

he remained blissfully unaware about the current plight of a certain person until he comes across them slumped against the outer walls of the back gates, head in their hands.

hey...

there was a slight hesitation in his voice.

hm?

they look up to meet his worried gaze with a confused, sheepish smile. loud growling of their stomach interrupting the moment.

he feels his irritation grow. seriously! they were old enough to take care of their own needs! no sane person would choose to ignore those needs to keep on working!

nausea hits them hard when chung myung pulls them to their feet, the world around them spins as their knees grow weak and buckle. thank god for his reflexes, catching them before they fall to the ground — but now what?

he does what chung myung does best.

throwing the poor and sick, now his supposed patient, over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

they don't even bother fighting back instead, they fade in and out of the intense feeling of wanting to throw up on chung myung or passing out — wondering to themselves if this guy was genuinely trying to put them to an early grave.

put me down...

nuh-uh. you need to eat.

they groan in exasperation.

and they passed out soon after.

in the days following that fainting scare, everyone agrees to take a step back. probably feeling guilty that they were driving one of their own like a workhorse. but that isn't enough to stop someone who's a known workaholic. chung myung doesn't remember them being like this before.

though a friend was a friend, and he shoves down the ugly feeling slowly brewing in the pit of his gut to take care of them. he was dependable when he wanted to be. just don't expect it to happen every time.

he knew the corners of the sect they liked to be, and in each of those corners, he'd put down his clumsily made step-stools — uneven and shaky, made from scrap pieces of branches and logs he found. it wasn't the best workmanship in the world, though they were delighted that he did this for them nonetheless.

not long after, there was a second, more polished and well-made stool that stood next to each and every one of those misshapen ones. and in the duo's later years, a third one was added to the lineup.

it was a common sight for the younger disciples to see two of their elders and another guy hunched over, roasting water chestnuts by the back gate like a bunch of delinquents until sect leader chung mun would drag their two elders by the collar as the third person trailed behind sheepishly.

═══════════════

the back gates once made out of brick and stone had been torn down with only a low fragmented outline left behind. chung myung walks around that area until he stumbles on a mound of dirt by a wall still standing.

curiously, he kicks off the top layers of soil, revealing a splintered and rotting piece of wood. the more he unearths, the more the mound begins to take the shape of three step-stools.

his mouth waters at the smell of roasted chestnuts wafting from the kitchen. he hasn't had that in a while.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

loud banging noises from dawn till midday were the norm this past week.

almost everyone bit their tongues from complaining. it was a necessary process, after all. even the elders held back from commenting on the ruckus. of course they did, this whole mess was their fault! who asked them to neglect building maintenance!

they were perched on a bamboo scaffolding, mumbling curses under their breath. straining to pull out rotted wood, trying not to squirm at the disgusting look of wet mold. cleaning out the gaping holes and filling them out one by one was a cheapskate way really — but what the elders ask for, they had to deliver. no matter how tiresome the job was, they have to prove themselves.

somewhere in the back of their mind, a voice was always condemning them. telling them over and over on repeat how useless they were, not being able to pick up on the basic skill of using a sword in a martial arts sect. the odd one out, the nail that stuck out, the stubborn thorn that got on the soles of one's foot. all descriptors that applied to them. their master, a man whose name they didn't want to speak of, was a cruel one. they always felt like a freeloader, taking and taking like a parasite, his words, what use did they have other than being another mouth the sect had to feed?

just as the rest of the world faded into a blur, a familiar voice cuts through the fog of their spiralling thoughts.

he calls out to them, face red from a combination of alcohol, running away from the seniors and the heat of summer. he clamours up the scaffolding with a small basket and a bottle of wine, trying to hide himself from view.

you aren't expecting me to hide you from our seniors... are you?

chung myung laughs nervously.

i'm not going to lie to someone to cover your ass.

urgh... you sound like those shaolin monks talking about the five virtues of righteousness...

they were about to snap back when a flurry of footsteps came their way — chung myung retreats further into the shadows, stilling from making any more noise. they glance over at him, before turning over to continue with their work.

a few of the junior brothers stop at the foot of the scaffolding, panting a little. the boys look up to their senior, nudging amongst themselves to ask the whereabouts of their other runaway senior.

uh, senior... have you seen...

the timid voice of the junior was interrupted by the loud banging of the hammer against the wood. and every time there seemed to be an opening, the banging quickly resumed again.

the boys decided to just give up and report to the elders that they'd lost track of their runaway senior. grumbling amongst themselves about how they've wasted their time.

chung myung remained in his spot, only coming out when the coast was completely clear. all while they were still hard at work, pulling out the wood, and filling out the holes.

he reached into the basket, plucking out a kumquat from the bunch. he blows the dust off it and wipes it clean before nudging the fruit to the other's lips.

open your mouth... ahhh...

the kumquats were just as sweet and tart as expected. they chew on it thoughtfully, gathering the seeds under their tongue to spit it out. chung myung's hand moves to hover under their chin, and they raise an eyebrow in question.

you can spit the seeds on my hand.

ew. that's so disgusting. what are you? a pervert?

the man looks at them indignantly. urgh, they were so rude! it's even worse than when they first left mount hua! to have believed life outside shaanxi would have changed this block-head potty-mouthed person was a pipe dream after all!

you... you're cussing me out, aren't you?

chung myung shakes his head quickly, knowing they weren't above tattling to their elders if he pissed them off. he's known this first-hand since childhood, and it doesn't seem like things were going to change in adulthood either.

you can buy my silence with some of those mooncakes you have or with the mandarin oranges in the basket.

he sucks in a breath. they were asking for his favourite mooncakes... they were so cruel... evil, evil bastard! what friend? this was clearly the devil in disguise, maybe he should have brought talismans to test that theory...

oi.

he grumbles in defeat, getting to work by diligently peeling the skin off the mandarin oranges, splitting the fruit into its little segments, and feeding it to them piece by piece with slices of mooncake in-between each fruit to cleanse their palate.

mmh... our chung myungie can be such a good boy too eh~

shut up!

they cackle and drown out his insults with the loud banging.

═══════════════

the sect had been gifted a few carts of mandrin oranges by the merchant guild. chun myung had taken a few to snack on in his free time, and as he peels the skin off the fruit, he thinks about how nice it'd be to have someone to share these little slices with.

he bites on a piece.

it was sweet, but not like he remembered. and there was also a bitter aftertaste that left him feeling emptier than before.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

war was such a devastating thing.

beyond the obvious loss of lives, there was also the grief gained from seeing someone who is still alive and kicking lose all that made them... them.

chung myung hasn't been himself in a long, long time. he barely remembers through the haze of liquor-induced stupor the type of person he used to be before this endless bloodshed. he smiled less, got agitated more often, and even for someone who had always seemed to attract wayward troublemakers this was all too much. he wonders what went wrong, did that person also notice something was wrong with him?

no. that person surely noticed. they were an architect for god's sake — being observant was part of their job description. he wanted to ask them why they hadn't been so hard on him like everyone else. the tension hanging in the air had made the sa-hyungs lash out at him, he somehow became the scapegoat that took on the blame for the smallest errors. not that he minded, he understood they didn't mean it, but it doesn't make it any less hurtful.

myung-ah.

he looks up, eyes clouded over and dazed. a vaguely familiar figure makes their way towards him, talking with someone, presumably the tavern owner, in hushed voices before a hand caresses his head gently. chung myung leaned into the touch, it was as comforting as it always was. he hasn't been seeing them as often as he'd like these days... he frowns at the realisation.

myung-ah. let's go home.

he groans as he feels them lean him against their shoulder. he's been told he smells like plum blossoms, most of the other swordsmen that practised the plum blossom divine arts did too — but they didn't, and he becomes curious about what they smell like. nuzzling his nose into the side of their head, he catches a whiff of what could only be described as laundry left under the sun.

this person... how was it possible for someone to be this comforting in every aspect of their being? it doesn't make sense, they were human were they not? how was someone able to have such a clear mind at all times? even chung mun sa-hyung slipped up once in a while, losing his patience, just like he did earlier today when he chastised chung myung for not taking things as seriously as he should have been.

do you... do you also think i haven't been doing my best?

he mumbles under his breath, voice strained and cracking just a little. he felt his stomach drop, out of nervousness or dread, he wasn't sure. maybe it was even both.

the two stop walking. they were at the foot of the steps leading up to the front gates. he looks at them, afraid to hear what their answer would be. he tries to laugh off his question, peeling himself off them and was just starting to go up the steps when he feels their hand grip at the back of his uniform.

they pull him back towards them and hesitantly pushed him to sit. chung myung watched the expressions on their face morph through the gaps of his hair hanging over his eyes. he was the most terrified he had ever been in his life — ever since he'd come to terms with the fact that he saw the person standing before him as someone more than a family or a friend, any prospect of them thinking of him in a negative light was enough to have him running with his tail between his legs.

he dare not say he was in love with them. not when he held so much unresolved resentment towards them for leaving him behind. he wished, still to this day that they hadn't gone off to find what they were good at. they should have stayed within the walls of the sect, they should have stayed here with him, where they would have never bloomed their talents and made everyone want to take them away from him. they could have been all his if they stayed, and he could have held them as close as he wanted, envelop them with his whole being. his love, all his, his, his.

chung myung-ah.

he tried not to make a face.

our chung myung works hard in his own way. i don't know about the others, but i do. i know you have your own ways of working hard.

they brushed his hair back, tucking some strands behind his ear. he hated it. he hated how it made him melt under their fingertips, hated how even after all these years he didn't have the courage to admit to something this simple.

they didn't know all of him. if they did would they still touch him this tenderly?

his hands find their waist, and then their hips. musing at the way their pupils dilated and shook, he tugged them towards him. they stumble over their feet, falling into his chest. there was a stupid grin plastered all over his face as the other tried to get up from the embarrassing position. his arms circle around them, pulling them in once more, setting them on his lap.

...you're drunk. you know that right?

they push away his face that had been inching closer. he holds their hand covering his mouth, pressing his lips against the inside of their palm — kissing it once, twice, a few more times until he felt satisfied, before moving their hand to rest on his cheek. he rubs his sand-papery jaw against their smooth palm, the tip of his nose tracing their wrist, thumb pulling down the long black bracer so his lips could reach the thumping vein lying under the thin layer of skin.

their breath hitches as his teeth grazes over their wrist, he ponders for a moment before biting down on the flesh. hard enough that they wince, whimpering softly, but not enough to draw up blood. they feel the back of their ears grow heated, not really wanting to find out whether it was from embarrassment or arousal. hitting at his shoulder with their free hand, they chide him for doing something so indecent out in the open, where anyone could see.

do you hate it?

that's not the point!

but... you don't hate this... right?

they turn away from his prying gaze. he wasn't wrong, they didn't hate that he was doing this. it's just... what if...

chung myung clicks his tongue. with a snap of his fingers, the alcohol in his system leaves completely in a translucent haze. he scoffs at the way their nose crinkled in disgust from the overpowering smell. he cradles their face into his chest, saving them from their little predicament. now sober, he agrees that he had been a little too carried away, so he digs his heels to the ground and kicks off into the air — still carrying them in his arms, jumping on rooftops until he reached the front of his private residence.

he refused to let them down even as he walked inside, despite their balled fist thumping on his shoulder. using that same scolding tone, still said in a soft voice, not once raising it in annoyance or anger.

with wide strides and feet falling heavily on the wooden floorboards, he locks every door and window in the residence — just in case someone becomes too nosy. tense body only relaxing in an exhale when they were both in the privacy of his bedroom. setting them down on the soft covers, he kneels at their feet, resting his chin lightly on the plush of their thigh, mumbling about how sorry he was for the roughness earlier.

it's okay.

their hands work their way through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, cupping his cheek and turning his face up towards them.

chung myung was a beautiful man.

he knows it, but their look of quiet admiration made the blood rush to his face. he wasn't used to seeing someone look at him so lovingly, not when men and women would throw themselves on him from the lust they felt, not when most people closest to him always had a furrow on their brow from the antics he pulled. this was so new to him, he didn't dare move, lest it broke this tender moment.

have they ever looked at anyone like this?

probably not, he thinks, closing his eyes to savour the smooth pad of their thumb drawing circles on his cheek. smile tugging up the side corner of his mouth as the scent of the sun grows a little closer, their lips brushing over the hard lines on his face, his sun-kissed skin.

═══════════════

he doesn't have a lot of joys in this second life.

though there was one that everyone around him seemed to have picked up on. it was strange that someone as seemingly money-hungry as he was found content in the simplest things — his bedding washed in plum-blossom-scented soap, freshly dried to a crisp under the blazing sun.

what the others don't see was how behind the closed doors of his sleeping quarters he would hold onto the sheets so tightly in his grip his knuckles turned white. burrowing his face into the fabric, he breathed in deeply, trying to recall the face of his sun.

a hazy figure, a blurry visage.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

#enihkwrites #return of the mount hua sect #return of mount hua #return of the blossoming blade #rotbb #rotmhs #cheong myeong #chung myung #cheong myeong x reader #chung myung x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #return of the blossoming blade x reader #i was supposed to release this on his birthday... sorry guys... i got distracted... my bad....#time management skills are so wack like genuinely it has impacted my life negatively

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delicrieux · 2 years

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𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | autumn features (october edition)

pairing—aemond targaryen x f!reader summary—a peak into the married life of aemond one-eye and his flower wife: on love, anger, and kin before the pillar of light (30) word count—2.1k

written for the october prompt list ♥ masterlist. ☕. autumn features. part 2. part 3. extra.

Aemond had once been of a gentler complexion he always tried to hide, though never very well. His nature, as Helaena’s, was made clear by his gait, his anxious blink faced with his brother’s ire, the hunch of his shoulders and the longing gaze for dragons he didn’t have. Believed, once, truly, that he never will.

Helaena did warn that he will close an eye. This exchange, to Aemond, seemed fair, and in retrospect, a small price to pay for such power. You never understood it - never possessed the capacity. When young, you had feared that only those born of fire and blood can understand one another. As you got older, you came to accept that fact to be true.

By all accounts, you had been an outsider in the Red Keep, with it’s dragons and high towers burning green. Born Tyrell and lavished in jewelry and picaresque views, your childhood was spent in a peacefulness that now could only be recalled in a dream.

You came to court when the King still had his hand and the Princess was yet to exile to Dragonstone with the promise to wed Aegon. Your father faced your demotion to Aemond with scorn. Helaena was a better fit for the future King - these conversations where held in whispers, tight, dark corridors, under the axe of treason. In a country divided, rulers of the same blood would fasten it strong, nourish it’s soldiers with loyalty, keep the peace that had not been there for too long.

It was necessary.

It was a terrible blow to the Tyrell pride.

You had accepted your duties with a polished smile. Aegon you could learn to live with, but Aemond you would perhaps grow to love. He had been gentle once.

But the years and their vapid tension had done away at that timid exterior, molded there something harsh and sharp instead. Nothing is ever easy with the Targaryens, though you would not be a Tyrell if you were not trained from birth to deal with fiery tempers.

The moon peaks behind silken curtains of your bedchamber. Candles drip red wax on the floor; burn in a haze emitting pleasant aromas that takes a fortnight to evaporate and months to prepare. Another end to an exhausting day of court drama that you can only discuss in Haleana and never in private. The dinner show for the dying King had promise, yet, as predicted, ended in disaster. The wound is too deep - as the King’s illness, untreatable. Much too late to salvage a family that has been kept cross for decades. No amount of drinking wine or peppered laughter, rehearsed conversations, and false jolliness would mend this.

He had been gentle once, and perhaps he’s trying to deliberately forget the fact, “...I don’t understand,” Aemond breaks the silence slowly, quietly, like ship crossing enemy borders in secret; he turns to you beside him, takes your hand in his - it’s warm, much warmer than yours, always has been, “Why not just be done with it?”

He’s much too intelligent to know why not and not crass enough to proclaim murder in your presence, even if he would speak freely in front of his family. An outsider once, and outsider still. The small upwards twitch of your lips is a thank you for his curtsy - you never fancied bloodshed, despised plots of murder even more.

Be done with it. What an elegant way to describe an act so cruel. Never bordering on the line of treason, never explicitly stating that Rhaenyra should be killed to end this fight for power. It’s a quick fix; a mindless slip of the blade; a minute of tears before, finally, prosperity.

You sit on the thought, let it digest. Then, you motion him to turn, and he does so obediently, so you could untangle his braid. You starts from the bottom, slipping away the woven thread that holds it together, “...I believe you must know already why, lord husband.” You mutter.

“Enlighten me,” He replies, “perhaps it’s something I can’t see?”

Despite Vhagar’s price, he’s still bitter. It festers underneath him, sometimes overflows in a fit of paranoia - that he’s unfit, unsightly, unworthy, and that you must loathe him. Out of all the things you could, it’s his appearance he insists that repulses you. That has never been the case, nor ever will. The truth of the matter is, you don’t detest him at all.

“You see fine, lord husband,” You continue in a playful tone, “though I sometimes wonder if all you see you take at face value, like your brother.”

He snorts, “Aegon doesn’t see at all.”

You raise a brow, “My point being, you fail to understand the...” You pause, search for a word, settle on something easy, “-history. Between your mother the Queen and Princess Rhaenyra. Or perhaps you don’t wish to understand it at all.”

“You speak in riddles.” But there’s a smile in his voice when he says it.

“If I recall correctly, you always fancied this trait of mine.” You hum, “When you were young, you often skipped practice to play chess with me. Do you remember those days?”

“Ser Criston was not happy.”

“When has he ever been?” Before he can respond, you shush him, “Don’t. I care not for the answer nor the man in question to continue speaking of him.”

“He’s a honorable knight. And a great teacher.”

“And I never argued the fact.”

“Yet you dislike him.” The braid is half undone when he turns back to you; his eye levels yours with scrutiny, “Is there a reason? Did he hurt y-”

“Your Ser does not so much as look me in the eye fearing the end of your blade shall be the last thing he sees.” You smile, “And I wish to keep it that way.”

He assess you for a moment, tilts his head, and when he speaks again, he brims with the same curiosity he had when he was younger, “...Does Helaena know?”

“A lady is entitled to her secrets.” You lace your fingers with his.

“Then she won’t speak a word.” He says with a sigh.

“Nor will you hear more from me on this topic, my husband.” Your response does not please him, but you know that mindless submission would please him even less. Aemond always wanted someone who could challenge him. It was Aegon that required an obedient, motherly touch, “Neither your father the King nor mother the Queen would wish harm on Princess Rhaenyra.”

“My mother despises Rhaenyra.” He states it as an all inclusive fact, an inarguable law of nature, “I know it. Rhaenyra knows it. You do, as well.”

You come to stand, place your hands over your belly, “How about,” You begin, mindlessly wandering about the room, “a thought experiment?”

“Another one of your riddles?” He says, leaning back to watch you. He enjoys watching you, enjoys trailing your movements - small, quiet footsteps, straight back, an effortless grace of a dancer.

“One I am certain a man fond of books would figure out quite quickly. Indulge me?”

“Always.”

“Then let’s perhaps take into consideration the lineage that came before us.”

“The history, as you put it.”

“Indeed, lord husband.”

“Why is it that you never call me by my name?”

“Would you prefer it?”

“It’s not about my preference.”

You smile, “...It is because I like to call you mine.” You admit softly, “Lord husband. My husband...I do like the ring of those, as I like being referred to as your lady wife.”

He tries his best to bite down the grin rising on his face, but even in the dim light you can tell he’s pleased. He raises a hand and motions, “Continue...my lady wife.”

“Then, the history that was before us...I have heard many a tale, you know. These walls,” You glance around, “they have ears. And servants fancy gossip more than leftover wine. You know I frequent these...meetings and tea parties and daily routines you do not bother with. The ladies at court speak often of your father’s reign. All in wonderful reverence, of course.”

“Naturally.”

“And what I came to learn is that there had been a deep bond between your mother and Princess Rhaenyra once.”

“That was a long time ago.” He utters, “Things have changed.”

“But there was, once, love.” You counter, though not unkindly, “...I don’t quite believe it is gone entirely.”

The air seems to still, as if you roused a beast not meant to be awaken. You’re threading into forbidden territory, that much you know. He sits up slowly, and his face is lifeless, waxen, “What are you implying, (Name)?”

Your name has never sounded colder. You would never let it show, “Only a thought experiment.” There’s a sharp smile on your lips. You don’t quite manage to hide the bite from your voice, “The silly musings of a housewife that has nothing to do. Pay no heed to it, lord husband.”

“Is this what you have been discussing with the court ladies?” His tone rises, as if he can’t believe it, “My mother’s affections to Rhaenyra, of all people?” He stands, approaches, and you quickly evade. He falters instantly, “If I frighten you--”

“You could never, lord husband.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His request is oddly paced - soft, unlike his previous timbre, “You know I want you to speak freely around me.”

You grind your teeth. Hold your head up high, “Very well. Sit.” He does so without protest, never once loosing sight of you, “So be it, I shall say it as it is. It’s obvious. As obvious as the fact that Rhaenyra’s children are not Leanor’s and never were. Your mother’s affection for Rhaenyra has never ceased, nor Rhaenyra’s for her. If the hate between your families was truly as strong as everyone pretends it is, one or the other would have been dead already, and your father would have done nothing to stop it. Or you, or Haleana, or Aegon, or I - killed, before I came to court and you got your dragon. They were friends, Aemond, good friends, inseparable, from what I was told. A bond as that does not evolve into hate without having a strong foundation before it. And times have changed, I do agree, but I don’t think it’s as simple as petty hatred for the Iron Throne.”

You press your hand to your belly, to the life that steadily grows inside it, your first one, and suddenly you feel choked up, unpoised. You inhale, exhale, steady yourself, “I know this because even if you were to do something...terrible,” You catch his gaze, “I couldn’t hate you. I would only hate the fact that I love you still.”

A cool breeze brushes past your shoulders. He seems thoughtful, “...How long have you been...thinking about this?”

“Long enough.” You admit, breath spent and voice rasp, “Not much else to do here when you hardly join me for chess anymore.”

“Haleana keeps you company.”

“And you should find her opinion no different from mine. Listen to her.” You continue, ��You never do, yet you Targaryens may find some use in what she has to say.”

“You’re a Targaryen as well.” He reminds you curtly.

“Don’t make me laugh, Aemond. I’m not in the mood. I’m a Tyrell. I was born as one and will always be treated as one in your court.” You sigh, “Gods be good...” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose, “A war is coming. A war.” You look at him, “What am I good in war? I ride no dragon nor wield a sword. Or should you fancy me cowering in the Red Keep when the city turns to ash?”

Something clicks in him - it’s loud, aching, like shattering glass.

He pales, “...You wish to leave me.”

You must salvage this whilst you still can, quickly gather the pieces, stitch them together with blood if you must.

“I wish,” You state calmly, “to return home.”

He stands, “This is your home.” He stabs a finger into his chest, “Our home. You cannot abandon me-”

It’s what he’s always feared, always believed. He envisions it, awakes at night with remains of that nightmare plaguing him: he turns away for a moment and when he looks back you’re gone in a flurry of smoke. Sometimes there’s laughter and sometimes there’s deathly silence. He doesn’t know which is worse.

“I’m not abandoning you, Gods, do you even hear what I’m saying?” You pause, breathe in again, “You know what the maesters said. I’m of a delicate condition, Aemond. I am unfit for war. And I will not have my child born in a battlefield.”

His hands grip your forearms. You startle. His hold eases, apologetic, almost, “I,” He begins, trying to catch your gaze, but you stubbornly look over his shoulder, “I will protect you.”

Your brows pinch together, “When? When you’re on dragonback or slaughtering Rhaenyra’s soldiers?” You sigh, “Let me return to my family,” You try to appeal to that nature, that kindness that hides underneath a leather patch, “to the grandparent’s of your child. Wait it out there. And when it’s all done, and you’re victorious, we will return. Our child and I. We’ll be together, all of us.”

Your plea hangs in the air. The candles flicker. Aemond nods slowly, kisses your forehead, and when you close your eyes and lean into his embrace, you hear a soft but firm, “No.”

He will not let you go. He cannot let you go. He cannot do this without you.

You hear that word still, echoing among the dancing dragons and crumbling buildings, the screams and rubble and rains of ash. It could have been different. But as you sit by your bedside window and watch the city crumble you make your peace with it, as you did with a lot of things in life. Forgiven a lot of things, too, perhaps too many.

There’s a terrifying roar before the view burns in a pillar of light.

notes: babe wake up a new war criminal just dropped xx

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #game of thrones #got #imagine #imagines #aemond one eye #rhaenyra x alicent #i will die on this ship!#rhaelicent #one-shot #angst

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whateverisbeautiful · 2 months

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♥️ Ranking Richonne

#2: I'm Still With You (S5E16)

My favorite pre-canon Richonne scene. 😍 This moment is something special and monumental for many reasons. Plus it features my favorite thing Michonne has ever said to Rick in TWD. To me, the connection, vulnerability, and steam in this scene are nearly equal to some of Richonne's passionate exchanges during their post-canon era. I love that this moment makes it loud and clear that these two have a very powerful effect on each other. And most importantly, I adore this scene for cementing that Rick and Michonne are with each other always. 🥹 What a gift...

A lot of relationships can appear strong during happy times when both individuals are on the same page. However, it's during those challenging periods, when two hold different outlooks and have a multitude of things weighing on them, that the true strength of a relationship really becomes evident.

So part of what puts this scene so high on my list is that it is one of the clearest depictions of why Richonne's relationship is so deep and durable. Because even at this time when circumstances could have easily caused a major divide between them, Michonne and Rick instead choose each other and prove this is a relationship that they sincerely value in the good times and the hard times too.

But, before we get into the #2 scene, we have to talk about some scenes that proceed it in the s5 finale. 🤗

As I’ve said in a previous post, I think this scene where Rick wakes up to find Michonne watching over him and they finally talk about his headspace is extremely revealing of how he views her. Rick telling Michonne, "Well you wanted this place," just really hammered home that in many ways she’s in the wife category to him. Rick was trying to secure this place for team family, but especially for Michonne in a way that he wasn't able to do for Lori.

The scene opens with Rick asleep after Michonne quite literally knocked some sense into him the prior ep, and it's funny that when he stirs awake, he laughs almost amused as he recalls the wild stuff that happened leading up to this point.

Then Michonne asks, "What’s so funny?" and you see a surprised little look on Rick's face as he asks, "You were here the whole time?" And I like that there’s not an ounce of frustration towards her after knocking him out. He gets it.

I love that Michonne is the one in here with him. Even knowing Rick has been wildin' out she’s still protective of him. Cuz she can knock him out but that doesn’t mean she’s gonna let anyone else come for him. It’s like a visual representation of the sentiment she’ll later express in my golden #2 scene.

Michonne even says she was there with Rick all night, which is such an indicator of her love for him. And then because she knows his laugh meant something, she reiterates "What’s so funny?," and I love that Rick is willing to be vulnerable about his headspace with her when he admits to her that mentally he’s still stuck in the train car from Terminus.

Michonne gives him the rundown of what he missed, and it’s clear she was thoroughly holding down the fort and keeping the peace while he was out of it.

Then I appreciate that Michonne closes some of the distance between them when she pulls her chair closer and asks, "Rick, what are you doing?"

It’s clear she’s concerned about him, and I like that she asks this way. It’s not accusatory like, 'What were you thinking?' or derogatory like, 'What’s wrong with you?' She wants to know what he’s doing cuz clearly she can tell Rick thinks he’s doing what he has to even though he really doesn’t have to. And if he’d be honest with her, she could help him see that.

Like in this scene, Michonne really could have told Rick...

And she'd be right lol. 😋 However, when she asks this, Rick doesn’t have an answer so then Michonne for the first time addresses the Pete and Jessie situation.

She says, "You could have told me what was happening." And there’s a deeper reason Rick didn’t tell her, beyond what he’ll claim here when he just says "it moved fast." He kept people closest to him like Carl, Michonne, and Glenn out of the loop about the Anderson situation because in many ways his off behavior in that situation was not rooted in clarity but rather in the unresolved wound of losing Lori without closure and the severe PTSD that everything about ASZ triggered within him.

He says it moved fast “and then Noah.” The way Rick says that part feels like he knows how hard Noah’s loss was on Michonne. We saw her grieving Noah a bit in a prior ep too. Which would make sense, especially because Noah, as a kid who didn’t make it, could stir up a lot of pain over losing Andre for her. 😢

Rick says he couldn’t tell her about the gun and, while it could seem like he says it like he couldn’t trust her with that info, he knows what he really means which is what he’ll reveal later - that he couldn’t tell her cuz she had the power to talk him out of it.

Michonne sarcastically says, "nah you couldn’t," cuz she knows Rick knows good and well he can tell her anything.

It becomes clear that Rick meant he couldn’t tell her because of her influence on him when he says, “Well you wanted this place.” Again, I’ll always love the significance and delivery of this line. And he’s not saying this accusatory. He knows finding a home meant something to her, and it meant something to him that Michonne got what she wanted.

It really feels like during this whole arc, Rick didn’t want to tamper with Michonne's experience in ASZ by roping her into his underhanded plans with Daryl and Carol because they were plans that suggested the place could fall or not work out, and he knows Michonne wanted to believe in this place.

Along with knowing Michonne could talk him out of this approach, I've always felt like part of why Rick kept her out of the plans - plans that normally he would want her fully involved in - was because of his desire to "give her this place" without the burden of expecting things to go wrong.

Think about pretty much all of Rick and Michonne's scenes in ASZ leading up to this point, especially the scene where he looks right at Michonne as he "signs the papers" and agrees to be a constable with her the day after she expresses to him that she would want a job. Each of their ASZ scenes suggested that even as Rick was spiraling on his own mental journey, everything in him still wanted Michonne to have this place, even if it meant carrying the burden of intense uncertainty on his own.

Fortunately, in this ep, Rick learns that he is no longer with a partner who expects him to carry any burdening issues alone ever. 🙌🏽

So then Michonne adamantly tells him they had to stop being out there, and she's right as always. Then Rick says, "Well we’re here," and I love Michonne’s response to this. She notes what Rick said earlier about still being mentally stuck in that train car when she compassionately says, “Well you just said you weren’t.”

And really it’s true, the poor guy has not been all there in ASZ hence some of his more volatile behavior. And Rick looks like he knows Michonne has a point when he stares at her in this moment.

Then when Carol, Abe, and Glenn walk in (which feels like they are walking in on the Richonne bubble) Rick is caught in the middle with Michonne on one end asking about the gun, and Carol on the other wanting him to lie.

And you can just tell that man does not want to lie to Michonne anymore. But he goes along with Carol’s story even tho Michonne ain’t buying it, looking at Rick and Carol like...

Later, Carol talks with Rick alone and is in his ear about continuing their trust-no-one approach. And the first thing Rick asks is why she didn’t want to tell Michonne, Glenn, and Abe about the gun. You know those magnets within him are ready to stop with the games that are causing distance with Michonne and come clean to her once and for all.

Carol seems to suggest that Michonne knocking Rick out might make her untrustworthy of being let in on their plans, but I adore that Rick so quickly and confidently defends Michonne, saying both that he deserved what Michonne did and that, "She’s with us."

He knows and trusts his woman, y'all. And I love that even after Michonne knocked him out and Carol's trying to cast doubts about her, Rick's still like...

In this whole ASZ situation Carol and Michonne reflect two different ways to approach ASZ. And in this scene with Rick and Carol, it’s clear that Rick has already been swayed more to Michonne’s side, especially as he tells Carol, "I don’t want to lie anymore."

This moment lets you know that without even directly talking him out of it, Michonne has again influenced Rick to no longer want to scheme and plot under the table. I know Rick hated feeling even remotely distant from Michonne, and he’s ready to fix that and stop lying to her asap.

Also, now you know I don’t really care to revisit any of those scenes, but all I’ll say about the scene with Jessie in this ep is it’s an interesting choice to have Rick only seen through the window when they talk. It again shows that in this situation he’s not all there, as Rick's not even seen present in the same shot as her, just a reflection of who he is.

But then, in this next scene, this Top 2 classic, not only is Rick directly in the shot with the woman he’s meant for, but the two get all up close and personal too...

Ok so on to my favorite pre-canon scene and top 2 moment. 🤩

I love that after such a compellingly wild journey with Rick’s character arc in season 5, his turning point back to some sense of sanity in the finale is in this moment with Michonne. She’s the person in his life most capable of helping him start seeing things clearer.

It reminds me of Rick’s other mental spiral arc in s3 and how his turning point was also Michonne-related as nearly giving her up sparked him to return to democracy. No matter how off the deep end Rick can go, something about Michonne can always bring him back. 💯

So the scene opens with Michonne approaching the room and softly saying, "Rick, you ready?" which I like especially because in 5.11 she had asked Rick that very thing right outside the gates of ASZ before they ever entered the community.

And in some ways, Rick wasn’t fully ready to let go of the fight and embrace this place back then, which has led to their current predicament. But even then, she still checks in on him now and wants to know where he’s really at with this.

(also the opening shot low-key feels like she's the angel arriving on his shoulder to guide him back to the light, if you ask me.)

This moment of her checking on him also sorta feels like it parallels that scene in The Distance when Michonne approaches Rick outside the barn while he works on a car. There's some similar positioning with him lower and her standing above, but the interesting difference is in 5.11 Rick and Michonne were discussing the potential for other people/communities to pose a threat, and here in 5.16 they have to deal with how Rick is now deemed the threat to the community.

Then I love that all Michonne has to say is just those three words - "Rick, you ready?" - and Rick is ready to completely spill everything. Like details and all with no hesitation. 😋

Rick lays it all out saying how he, Carol, and Daryl worked out the plan to keep guns together, and he lets Michonne know exactly what they took from the armory and exactly what they still have.

Rick says, “We lied to you cuz I wasn’t sure how you’d take it - what you’d do.” which has always been quite interesting to me because like he knows Michonne wouldn’t just straight up turn on him or fight him but I think just the mere thought that what she’d do is pull away from him or be disappointed was enough for Rick to feel he couldn’t risk telling her.

And I like how, as he says this, he holds his hand out to give her the gun as this symbol that not only is he confessing, but he’s ready to “turn himself in” in a sense and let her have the gun and have intel on the plan completely, rather than hide anything from her.

I feel like this moment really hammers home that Rick views Michonne as his partner. They'd been operating like partners and co-leaders so much before arriving in Alexandria, so Rick knows that Michonne is someone in the group who would have and should have been let in on these types of plans, which is why not telling her felt like a lie that weighed on him.

I like that when Michonne hears Rick say this, she puts the windbreaker down, knowing they need to have a moment and talk this out so she can let him know exactly where she stands.

She asks if he thinks she’d try to stop him, and Rick, always finding time to be a little teasing with her, says, "Well you did hit me over the head." You know he's teasing too cuz he literally just defended her doing this when he spoke with Carol earlier lol.

And I appreciate that Michonne wants it to be crystal clear she did that to help him and not for the others. "That was for you." Of course, it’s for him, and doing what she thought was best to help him.

Even before hearing her say this, you know Rick believes that she did this with his best interests in mind.

And then I adore that he gets extra vulnerable for this next part, with this being his turn to close the distance between them.

Rick stands up and gets super close to her - cuz magnets - and he finally tells Michonne that he didn't tell her about the guns because “I was afraid you’d talk me out of it…you could’ve.”

Y'all, I love this. 😊 That "you could've" is going to hit my heart every time.

I’ve mentioned other pre-canon moments on this list where Rick has told on himself in terms of what he feels for Michonne. But none more than in this moment right here does Rick outright expose that Michonne has a very special and substantial influence on him.

It’s a big deal one; for her to have this power, two; for Rick to know Michonne has this power, and three; for him to then straight up tell her she has this power.

This is extremely significant, especially because Rick was seemingly at his most dazed during this 5B arc and said himself he was in the middle of losing his mind...and yet even in that disoriented state, he still had enough wherewithal to be aware that Michonne could get him to change course if she so much as talked to him about the situation.

Like homeboy was struggling to know right from left at this time, but one thing he did know was that Michonne had the power to heavily influence his choices and actions.

Rick Grimes won’t just let anybody talk him in or out of things, and yet Michonne effortlessly can do both as we saw throughout s5 and beyond. He also trusts her to know the immense influence she has without manipulating it. And honestly, he picked a good person to give this power to because Michonne is always right. 👑😌 Like fr...

I love that Rick finally came right out with it and told her this because he seemed to deep down know it was the case all along. Michonne means a whole lot to him, he fully respects her wisdom and ideas, and something in him always wants to give her what she wants, and in some capacity, he knows this about himself even here pre-canon.

As this is the season 5 finale, this is when they tie up a lot of arcs and storylines, and it’s fitting after a season where Michonne so fully stepped up as Rick's co-partner and both led alongside him and led him - the season ends with Rick actively knowing that just Michonne’s words, hell even a mere look, could influence his decisions on crucial matters. Even after losing it a bit in Alexandria, he still knows he'd trust Michonne’s gut even over his own. 👌🏽

And for him to say, "I was afraid..." I love the vulnerability. This is the Rick Grimes who has often had to come across as fearless to those they encounter, but here he can be honest and human and let her know that the influence she has over him is strong enough to even make him afraid.

Deep down something in Rick knew that Michonne has his whole heart and that he’ll ultimately be swayed to do what she says. Also, the visual of the two together is just so pleasing and the chemistry is always 🔥🔥.

And then cuz you know these equals stay taking turns sending my heart soaring - it’s Michonne’s turn to have me jumping for joy when she responds to him. (That's part of what makes this a top 2 moment because Rick and Michonne both have a line that just leaves me endlessly beaming 🤗)

First, Michonne so gently tells Rick they don’t need the guns here, and she doesn’t need her sword. It makes me think of the really sweet and sociable honorable mention moment they had in 5A when Rick asks her about her sword, and she says she doesn’t miss her sword but rather misses people they love like Hershel. Both these moments show she's always had such a solid perspective. 👑

Also y’all, as Michonne is talking to Rick in this s5 finale moment, again I have to point out the way Rick is looking at her...Whipped with a capital W. He looks so entranced that he again has to have one of those signature not-so-slick look-up moves he does whenever he knows he’s about to get lost in her lol.

I mentioned in a previous post that the story knew it wanted Rick and Michonne's journey to be that of an epic love story, hence why so many of their pre-canon scenes feel like they could fit perfectly into a romance. And you know who also naturally knew this - the Andrew Lincoln.

Because honey, the way his eyes always told the story that Rick was in love with Michonne 👏🏽👏🏽. Especially in this season 5 finale scene, all you have to do is look at Rick's eyes to know...

When Andy played our beloved sheriff during this pre-canon era, he basically said I don't really care what other storylines y'all got going on for Rick cuz whenever Rick is in front of Michonne he's going to look at her like she's the one for him really and truly. And I appreciate him for it. 😌

All those special stares between both Rick and Michonne throughout their journey really do add a wonderful touch to this love story. 👌🏽🥰

So then Michonne says, “I think you can find a way,” showing her steadfast belief in him. And then I love that she then emphasizes, “We can find a way.” It's refreshingly letting him know that, in navigating all this, he doesn’t have to do it alone. She will be by his side and they're a package deal. 😊

And then, as you know, what makes this scene such a classic is when Michonne flat out expresses the sentiment that they are forever a package deal when she so sincerely says, “And if we don’t…I’m still with you.” BEAUTIFUL. 😭

Oh I adore it with everything in me. She’s communicated to Rick that she’s still with him in so many different ways throughout the series, but I love that here she gets to look right at him with so much love in her eyes and let him know directly that she’s still with him no matter what. Good, bad, or ugly, she will forever be team Rick Grimes. 👌🏽

And it’s huge for her to say this and for Rick to hear this. Finding a home base has been Michonne's big goal this season and Rick's been aiming to provide that home - but now in the finale, this is Michonne’s chance to tell Rick she found home long ago because home actually isn’t a place - it’s him. And he no longer has to worry about losing her.

Also with the uncertainty of their world, how deep is it that they found a nice cushy community, a gold mine in that world, and Michonne is saying I still choose you even over the invaluable safety of having this home. As I’ve said before, this is the season where Rick and Michonne both show through words and actions that they will follow each other anywhere.

It’s so moving for Rick, someone who knows disloyalty well from his previous pre-apocalypse relationships (Lori & Shane), now has this woman to say I’m on your side always. And it's big for Michonne to know that the bond she formed with Rick is one she'll be committed to no matter what. Just a precious sentiment and my favorite thing she’s ever said to Rick so far. 🥰

And the way Michonne is looking at him. 😍 She’s in love with him, can’t tell me any different. So I, of course, gotta give major props to the Danai Gurira too because she also helped sculpt this story in the direction of a love story with the way Michonne would always look and talk to Rick.

Then Rick seems to just be taking her in completely as she says this lovely loyal line. Rick's look here feels like yet another moment that suggests he marvels over how he got so lucky to have someone like her be with him like this.

As Rick and Michonne let a silent moment linger between them, it really felt like RJ’s parents were finally about to kiss in this scene. Cuz these two were practically having this conversation...

Instead, Michonne notes how "something is going to happen," cuz she’s not naive or overly idealistic, and then she wisely states, "just don’t make something happen." And in this moment we’re seeing in real time the way Michonne just expressing herself can impact Rick and motivate him to change course.

I'm sure a lot of characters would have assumed Rick was unreachable in his season 5 era, but Michonne can always so effortlessly reach him and get him to try a new approach.

After she beautifully and prudently expresses this, Rick looks at her mesmerized (the usual), and then hands her the gun again, so eager to offer it as this peace offering that says he is with her too and willing to try to go about this her way rather than fight this his way.

It's a big deal for him to do this and I absolutely love the visual of this whole wordless moment.

I mentioned how in Clear, Michonne hands Rick a bullet as a sort of peace offering to show she’s on his side. And here Rick offers the same with the gun, but I love that instead of taking the gun, the shot draws emphasis on the two’s hands (seriously, Richonne stays giving the most Outstanding Performance by a Pair of Hands 👏🏽) as she softly places a hand over his and signals both that he doesn’t have to give her the gun and that she trusts him to make the right choice with it.

Again, Michonne is the soundest character in TWD, bar none, so in this moment, she knows it’s not necessarily unwise to have the gun, she’s not against the idea of precautions, but she also knows hostility is simply not needed here. And I love the arresting way they can always disarm each other, even without taking a gun.

And the moment just feels genuinely intimate and romantic which I love. Any time they touch it’s sparks. ✨ Michonne's first initiating touch with Rick was outside ASZ in 5.11 and now she does it again in the finale as touching his hand almost reflects her once again hoping that he’s really ready this time to make this place work.

But even if he's not...she's still with him. 🥹

Rick and Michonne then share this palpable passionate look before she heads out, sounding like a wife as she tells him, "Don’t be too long."

And that eye contact tho. 🔥 Richonne's eye contact at the end of this scene alone deserves its own shoutout. 👏🏽

Y’all, let me tell you what we just watched in this scene were some soulmates. Not just besties, or family, or partners - no, this was an exchange between soulmates. That’s their person, their true love, the one they trust unwaveringly - and somewhere in them during this scene, their hearts know it too. Their minds might need to do some catching up, but their hearts know if you ask me.

At the end of this scene, Rick stands alone in the room and holds the gun, moving his hand almost as if it's Michonne's touch that's most lingering with him. It may sound straight out of a romance film to say that, but that really is an element of what this subtle moment is giving.

Seeing that tiny moment of Rick's reaction to the gun in his hand after Michonne's tender touch just confirmed to me that one of the great perks about this ship is we never have to embellish the spark between Richonne because there really are just that many little romantic details to notice and cherish within these scenes.

Rick’s lingering reaction as she leaves also makes it feel like the gun weighs more than it does as it now symbolizes a weighted decision “to use or not to use.” But he knows deep down because the woman he loves has spoken and touched him literally and figuratively, he wants to make his next move one that she could be proud of.

And after a scene as romantically coded as this one, I too don't care what other storyline was supposed to be happening during this time...because Richonne was on the fast track to canon. 1000%.

Like truly after this moment there is no convincing me that Rick was healthily falling for anyone else. The chemistry, attraction, respect, love, and desire are far too evident in this scene between Rick and Michonne to suggest anything other than that canon Richonne is just around the corner. 🔥 And I love that Danai also noted this as a scene that really made it clear Rick and Michonne's bond was bound to blossom into more.

In season 5, who Rick was authentically in love with was crystal clear and who Michonne was authentically in love with was crystal clear. And fortunately, the following season, Rick and Michonne finally took the leap and made it crystal clear to themselves and the world that the two were in love with each other. 🙌🏾

This "I'm still with you" scene was an especially blatant sign that Rick and Michonne had developed an unbreakable love. And this moment is deserving of my #2 spot for how much meaning it carries.

The scene powerfully shows that what Rick and Michonne have between them is and has always been so incredibly deep, influential, reverential, beautiful, steamy, and special - and that no matter what they face or where they go, Rick and Michonne will always and forever be with each other. 🥰

#richonne #top 30 #top 3 #number 2 #rick x michonne #reveling in richonne #the best thing Michonne said to her husband so far 😍#twd 5.16 #twd towl #the ones who live

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magicalbats · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 7: Stuck In Wall

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7468

Warnings: Afab! Reader, master/servant dynamic, stuck in wall, age difference, dubcon, reader is a rabbit illuminated beast, vaginal fingering, bareback, no protection lol no gendered terms but he does call us “little one” because that is what I am personally weak for

A/N: alright so I definitely got a little carried away with this one but in my defense … in my defense Zhongli is my favorite character. I started playing specifically FOR him. So I think my bias was going to show no matter what 😂

⭐

Peering out from your hiding place behind a wide, red painted column, you secretly observe your lord and master while he sips his afternoon tea in the sprawling manor garden. The Lord of Geo is a sight to behold even when at ease, and you can’t quite seem to decide what it was you were feeling flitter about inside your chest when you looked at him. Was it excitement, pure and headstrong adrenaline at the prospect of challenging him in the way the young test themselves against the old? Or was it something more personal and intimate — a crush, you’d heard human adolescents call it before. This strange feeling wasn’t exactly new but it was still as much of an unknown as it had been the first time you’d realized Morax was the cause of it.

You think you’re just eager to try out what you’ve learned since the last time you came here and sparred with him though. Had even spent some time with the five Yaksha between then and now, most notably with Alatus who had (begrudgingly) helped you work on your speed. Bonanus had even teased you about biting off more than you could chew when you’d told her why you were so keen on training like this, but she didn’t understand. None of them did. For as much as you looked up to and admired the Yaksha for their strength and commitment to Morax’s nation, nothing was held in quite so high regard as earning his approval the same way they had.

All you wanted was to prove yourself to him. To be looked at with the same fondness and mutual respect that he gave the others rather than the doting, indulgent smiles he always gave you. It was undeniably frustrating, the way he never seemed to take you seriously. It wasn’t your fault you were a bit too young to have stood beside him during the Archon War but you were determined to win his favor no matter the cost.

So you very quietly sneak out into the open, recalling what Alatus had told you about the importance of concealing your presence until you were ready to actually deliver the killing blow. Not that you were trying to kill him or anything — as if you even could. But considering that all of your previous encounters with the Geo Archon had ended in resounding failure, with you slinking off with your tail tucked between your legs and licking your wounds, it seemed like it was worth a shot. Somehow, you’d almost managed to convince yourself that sneaking up on him instead of clashing head on would net you a different result.

But of course it is not meant to be, and you barely make it within twenty feet of the powerful god when the earth abruptly shudders and gives way, exploding outward from the force of a glowing geo construct erupting out of nothing. You give a startled jerk and immediately fall into a defensive crouch, but they just keep appearing around you; one by one, tall, imposing monoliths springing up out of the ground to entrap you where you stood.

Realizing you have fallen for a trap and Alatus’ advice was no good against someone like the Lord of Geo, you make a hasty attempt to escape. Try to utilize his training to your advantage even though it’s done you little good up til’ now, but you don’t make it very far.

You’re hyper aware of the moment that a construct of Morax’s making bursts up underneath you, shooting right towards your middle. You lurch, too surprised to even breathe as you see it spearing straight through you and up into the very heavens themselves. For a split second you actually think he’s going to kill you — but to your great surprise it suddenly splits down the middle and branches off into two separate halves that fly up past you only to reconvene and become one at the top.

It’s like you’re watching it all happen in slow motion, painfully aware of what’s happening as it seals around you and stops your momentum mid fall. You jerk to a sudden, screeching halt that rattles your teeth, and you suck in a harsh gasp that seems to tear at your throat. You’re stuck. Just like that. In the blink of an eye you’ve been left dangling there, trapped inside the unrelenting prison of one of his geo spires, and you had no way out.

You’re still desperately clawing and kicking at the solid stone when he steps up beside you, long dark robes swaying softly as he comes into view. You go stock still, heart hammering wildly inside your chest even as you bring your head up to look at him. To your gobsmacked, stuttering surprise, he was smiling at you.

“M - m - my lord!”

“Hello, little one. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here today. A very grumpy bird told me you’ve been training with the Yaksha recently and I assumed that would continue to take up a significant amount of your time for at least a while longer.”

Heat floods your face in a sudden rush that leaves you sputtering, trying to work out what to say to that. Dammit, Alatus! He wasn’t supposed to go behind your back and tell Morax what you’ve been doing! No wonder his advice hadn’t worked.

“Forgive me, master.” You finally manage to say. “It was not my intention to displease you. I only wanted to - -“

“Oh, I’m well aware what it is you wanted. My attention, isn’t that right?” He tips his head to one side, ever so, his expression still serene and gentle, but that doesn’t stop you from flushing even hotter than before. Quickly, you avert your gaze and try not to look so guilty even though that seemed to be a losing battle in this situation. You felt so stupid, and all the more when Morax draws a patient breath at your continued silence. “Honestly, I'm a little surprised with you. I didn’t take you for the sort to sneak around like that. At first I assumed you were merely working up the courage to come over and ask to spar with me, but that was not the case … was it?”

You sorely wished you could wither away, right then and there, but the unrelenting geo construct made it impossible to even turn from him and hide your shame, let alone beat a hasty retreat. “No, master. It wasn’t.”

“Then why?”

His gloved fingers suddenly brush your chin and you jolt, choking on a very unbecoming squawk of surprise as he tips your face up. Left with no choice but to look at him, you make a desperate attempt to school your expression and hide your fluster from the piercing intensity of his gaze only to fail miserably on all fronts. You couldn’t even remember a time you’d embarrassed yourself so badly in front of him.

“W - well, I just — I thought …” You trail off in uncertainty, but he just nudges your chin with a soft little hum of encouragement. Whimpering faintly, you squeeze your eyes shut so you won’t have to see him looking at you, patient and expectant, while you’re forced to admit to your wrongdoings. “I’m sorry, master! I thought if I took you by surprise I might fare better this time. Alatus said - -“

“Alatus?” Morax’s fingers abruptly slip away. Blinking back the sting of humiliated tears, you cautiously glance up to find him lost in his own thoughts and a tiny little spark of hope flares to life inside you. Perhaps he would let you go and direct his displeasure at the one who had given you that bad advice in the first place!

“I see,” He says at last. “I wouldn’t say he was necessarily wrong to tell you that. Given your size and strength, it certainly does make sense to rely on concealment when approaching a potential threat. However,” The deep timber inflected in just that one word sends shivers racing down your spine as much as the hard edge in his golden eyes does. “You had to have known such tricks would not work against me, little one, and I very much doubt Alatus intended for you to utilize that particular strategy in such a way. If I was so easily taken by surprise then surely I would not be standing before you as I am now, would I? Frankly, I'm not sure if I find your underestimation of me cute or insulting.”

Your chest wrenches violently at that. “No … no, no, I'm sorry, master! Please don’t be displeased with me, I didn’t mean to offend you! I would never! I promise!”

Evidently unmoved by your pleas, Morax makes a casual show of folding his arms behind his back before shifting into motion. Slowly, he walks around the side of the monolith he’d conjured to trap you where he disappears from your line of sight. Even trying to twist around is useless and all you can make out is the hard column of stone and a thin, sideways glimpse of the lush garden foliage. You squirm and brace your hands on the faintly glowing rock, making an attempt to wriggle your way out, but then he appears on the other side and you go still again.

You realize, in a far off, distant kind of way, that he’s circling you like a predator and with that knowledge comes a silent reminder of who he is. What he is. You’d never been lucky or privileged enough to see Morax in his truest form, nor had you ever caught so much as a glimpse of it until now, but you’d heard tales of it. Whispers of his magnificent size and strength. How he was just as big, if not bigger, than most of the gods he fought in the war and equally deadly too. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that the kind and gentle individual before you now, with his doting smiles and easy company, was in fact hiding a beast under that disarming facade. A monstrous dragon.

And you, little more than a rabbit, were trapped in his lethal claws.

“You must forgive my mood today. It isn’t exactly that I am unhappy with you, or Alatus for that matter.” He says quietly. Much too quietly to do anything except further rattle your nerves and make you more anxious. “But I think there is something to be said for these times of peace, don’t you? Not only do the years wear away at the memory of the people but even my beloved adepti too, and it seems that everyone is slowly forgetting what this land looked like not that long ago.”

Pausing in front of you, Morax sends you a slow, unreadable look of consideration.

“The same cannot be said of me though. I can’t forget it. I won’t forget.”

With that, he resumes his pacing around the monolith and you just hang there, having no choice but to attentively listen in even when you want nothing more than to crawl inside a hole and bury yourself alive.

“I’ve not faced a real challenge in many, many centuries now,” He continues, sedate and almost leisurely. “Most save a select few don’t even bother to spar with me now, whether because they hold me in too high regard to even take up their weapons or because they already know what the outcome will be. I must confess though, I miss it sometimes. That is why I have enjoyed our little sessions so much. Even if you cannot truly stand against me, it was still nice … refreshing to see someone standing on the side of opposition with neither hesitation nor reverence on their face. You just wanted to prove yourself, isn’t that right,” His hand abruptly caresses over your leg, starting at the knee and trailing a sensuous path up the back of your thigh, over your buttocks and higher still to finally flick at your small, curved tail. “My helpless rabbit?”

Yelping and blushing profusely, you quickly slap your hands over your mouth to stop yourself from making any further noise. You had no idea what was happening, what he was talking about, and you knew even less how you felt about any of it. Your heart slams a wild, continuous beat against your chest, feeling like it was likely to explode out of you at any given moment, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or … excitement?

Either oblivious or unconcerned with your current predicament, Morax just keeps pacing around you at a steady canter. “That is also why I’m so disappointed in your behavior today. I thought you were better than that. I expected better from you than that. Using such strategy against a lesser foe would have been another matter entirely but me?” He barks a quick, mirthless laugh that seems to set your guts to vibrate. “The only ones foolish enough to use such a shameless tactic against me in the Archon War were beings so far beneath my concern that I didn’t even bother learning their name before I destroyed them. Any warrior with even an ounce of pride would never stoop to such a low, for both his own integrity as well as that of his opponents. Is it possible that I have been much too lenient with you?”

You suck in such a sharp, painful breath that it claws at your throat on the way down. “Master, please! That’s not it at all! I - I just thought … I thought you would be impressed with me if I could implement what I learned from the Yaksha and show you I’m serious. I d - didn’t …”

You trail off, not sure what else to say to defend yourself or your actions, and Morax halts in front of you again. Eyeing you for a moment longer, he finally reaches up to touch fingers to his chin in thought. “You were still small during the war, weren’t you? Only just ascended, if I remember correctly.” You give a miserable little nod, prompting him to slowly exhale through his nose. “I see. It’s not that you’ve forgotten, nor did you intentionally mean any disrespect. It’s just that you don’t know any better. All you’ve ever truly lived is peace, so a warrior's sense of pride is likely just some fanciful concept rather than a tangible thing to you. Still, there is something … a part of me doesn’t want to let it go even knowing this. I want — no, I need to show you that I am not someone such petty tricks will work on.”

“Wha - -“

His hand is suddenly under your chin again, nudging you to look up even as he bends close to put his face in yours. Veins turning to ice, you just stare at him in speechless disbelief. If you could have backed up at that moment you would have gone skittering in the opposite direction, but the geo construct keeps you rooted to the spot. All you can do is take it when he carefully curls those long, blocky fingers over your jaw and gives them a brief squeeze to make you wince. It was only a very small fraction of his power, you knew this, but you still issue a quiet whimper anyway, more from your bruised ego than any physical pain he was causing you.

“Do not misunderstand, little one. You are young and naive, while I am willing to forgive and as patient as the tallest mountain.” Morax intones, his voice dropped to such a low register it almost seems to carry with it a … growl. “But I am also still the Archon of this land. It is my duty to soundly guide all who inhabit Liyue, whether they be human or adepti, and that very much includes you. Forgive me for saying so, but I think it’s high time I teach you an important lesson. One that appears to be long overdue.”

“… my lord?” It’s barely more than a whisper.

“Oh, don’t look at me with such fear in your eyes.” Cooing softly, Morax releases your jaw in favor of reaching up to carefully brush some of the hair back from your face. Just like that, his mood seems to have returned to the calm you were used to and it only leaves you even more unnerved. Confused to see him acting like this. But if he notices any of the disconcert in your expression he doesn’t acknowledge it, instead dragging his hand lower to tenderly cup your cheek in his gloved palm. “I have no intention of harming you today, nor do I wish to scare you. But I think it’s important for you to understand what I am.”

You swallow your nerves. Almost choke on them. “What are you?” You prod, wanting to hear him say it out loud with his own voice, in his own words.

With a slow, almost unsettling blink of his eyes, Morax puts his head to one side. “A very territorial god.”

The shudder that tears through you is so powerful it leaves you outright gasping in shock. He merely smiles though, that same soft, vague smile he usually wears, except … there’s an edge in the gilted amber of his eyes that makes you run hot. Hotter than any bath or spring, or teakettle, and you can’t quite seem to get your breathing under control now as he straightens up, letting his hand fall away, and then moves to step behind you again.

Panicking, you slap your clammy palms against the lower half of the geo construct and desperately try to find some amount of leverage you could use to shimmy free but it is resoundingly useless. His control over the element was so great, so fine tuned and honed that there was barely even a seam between your midsection and the cool stone you were imprisoned in. You’d never be able to squeeze your hips through such a narrow opening, nor your shoulders — not without dislocating them and causing irreparable damage in the process. The reality of that truth slams into you mere seconds before you feel his fingers brush against your tiny tail again, and you can’t quite stop yourself from letting out a frightened squeak.

“Now, now,” He chides, a heavy note of laughter dancing in his voice. “You needn’t rile yourself so. I already told you I’ll be gentle … but there are things you need to understand about this world. The way you came here today was so lacking in manners and propriety that you’ve struck an old chord in me, I’m afraid. But I won’t treat you as I did those who tried such petty, simple tricks in the past,” His hand abandons your twitching tail in favor of skimming down lower to pet over the seat of your form-fitted shorts, startling another gasp out of you at the static jolts that race through your body. “But I think we can come up with an appropriate substitute that will get the point across just as well. I will show you what it truly means to bend the knee to a god and impart upon you the significance of not underestimating one’s elders.”

Your mouth drops open in shock but nothing comes out, every single hair on your body immediately standing on end. The thought that this was really happening seemed so distant, so implausible, that you almost don’t even believe it. Morax had never touched you like this, usually much too polite and proud to lay hands on you (or anyone, for that matter) more than what was strictly necessary, but he doesn’t hesitate to do it now. The glide of his fingers along the seam of your cunt is sure and confident, like he’s done this a million times before.

The weight of it slams into you all at once and you finally give a delayed little jerk as your stomach violently seizes. “M - master! Thats - -“

“Mine, is it not?”

You go stock still, halfway through the motion of trying to push against the stone again. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious. “I … I don't understand.”

With a soft, vaguely condescending click of his tongue, Morax adjusts his hand to rub over the apex of your slit with a greater sense of purpose to make you twitch and seethe through your teeth. “Which is precisely why I would be remiss not to educate you, little one. You have truly lived a largely comfortable life and you do not grasp what would be apparent to you had you endured any of the hardships of the past. Respect, decorum, integrity … these are not just words without meaning. You must learn to maintain these principles even in your youth, or you won’t live to see the same old age I enjoy.”

Biting down on your bottom lip to stifle the embarrassing sounds trying to slip out, you frantically turn that over in your head. It was exceedingly hard to do when he was caressing you like that, gradually coaxing your body to bend to his will which it does with a horrifying lack of compulsion, but you desperately wanted to figure out what had set him off and why he was acting this way. You wanted to understand him … easier said than done, of course, when he always spoke in such a complicated and enigmatic manner. Yet a thought starts to slowly dawn on you, alighting inside your mind like the morning sun appearing over the horizon.

Was it possible that the lesson he wanted you to take from this boiled down to something as simple as a reestablishment of his dominance? Had you really stoked the mighty dragon in him enough that he now felt compelled to dominate you like he would any lesser foe who dared to disrespect his position and authority? He said you’d approached him without respect … had opined about the past and how he missed partaking in true battles, establishing his own superiority over others with fists rather than words. Said he’d enjoyed your sparring matches because of the way you’d looked at him with neither awe or reverence — but by sneaking around like an assassin you’d overstepped that understanding between you and your lord?

A sudden groan bursts out of you when your pussy eagerly flutters against the ministration of his hand, growing wet for him, and it quickly becomes that much harder for you to concentrate. But you frantically try to hold onto that string of thought, panting slightly where you hang from the geo construct. It felt like you were right on the brink of a solid idea … an epiphany.

You almost write it off completely when it finally comes to you, so absurd and implausible at first glance. But the longer he pets your cunt with sure, steady motions of his hand, as if he already knew exactly how to toy with you, the more you found yourself faltering. Could it really be that you had simply offended his greater sense of pride, his monstrous instincts, by suggesting (intentionally or not) that you didn’t consider him worth the effort of meeting face to face in the sparring ring anymore?

It’s not lost on you that Morax was well within his right to do as he pleased, however he so pleased, and he normally chose kind smiles, a soft hand to guide, friendly company and the grace to only show you a very small fraction of his great strength. The goodwill to let you think you ever stood any kind of fighting chance against him if you just trained enough, just stuck with it long enough. But now it seemed he was set on reminding you of your place in his world, bring you to heel, and let it be known in no uncertain terms where you stood. He had been nothing but tenderhearted and indulgent towards you until now, doting the way a father figure would be. Infinitely lenient, or so it had seemed.

That was not who was standing behind you any longer though. He’d been replaced by a king, a war general, a fierce draconian lord. Someone who took without asking and who claimed what was his by right, and that very much included you and your body, evidently.

Sucking in a sharp, wavering breath, you abruptly snap back into the moment when you feel him pinch at your clit through the thin fabric of your pants to get your attention again. His motions are self assured and confident as he gently teases the sensitive nub with a slow, rolling motion of his fingers before squarely pressing down on it. Your legs weakly kick out behind you at a series of awkward angles, torn between either balancing the distribution of your weight so there wasn’t quite so much pressure on your middle where the stone was holding you up or trying to close your thighs and keep him out. The latter was useless though. You were completely defenseless like this without even the privilege of being able to twist away, and you soon realize all you can do is accept your fate.

So you hang there, whimpering softly as he grinds mean little circles into your clit. He doesn’t stop until your hips start to judder and buck against the stimulation, a startling amount of sticky slick already bleeding into the fabric plastered to your cunt. You can’t help groaning in frazzled disappointment when he finally withdraws his hand some moments later, leaving your body thrumming with unspent kinetic energy, but he’s quick to smooth his hand over the curve of your ass and give it a brief, reassuring squeeze.

“There. That’s better isn’t it?” He rumbles behind you, that same hint of amusement making you tremble again. “Rest assured, little one. I will not be unfair or cruel to you. I’ll make sure this is as pleasant for you as myself, but I trust my greater intention will not be lost either. This is a symbolic act, so do pay attention.”

“M - master —!” Your voice warbles and catches, breaking off with a stilted little gasp when Morax redirects his hand to grasp at the material and tug at it. It takes him a prolonged beat to inch it down enough, between all your squirming and the position he’s got you stuck in, trapped within one of his monoliths, but soon he can slip his fingers inside the waist. Tugging your shorts down, pausing to untangle them from your twisting legs, he finally gets them pulled over your ankles and tossed aside.

You’re left naked from the waist down with only your socks and shoes allotted to you, and you’d never felt more exposed or vulnerable in all your life. Try as you might, you just couldn’t seem to find enough leverage to curl your legs up and it has you awkwardly writhing against either side of the stone spire. No matter what you do though you can still feel the waft of cool, pristine air against your bared cunt and, much to your mounting horror, even the clenched pucker of your ass. You were completely on display like this. He could see everything — and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it!

Was this how helpless his enemies had felt against him in the past? How weak, pathetic and unequivocally at his mercy they’d been?

“My,” He seems to pur, gently touching a fingertip to the meat of your cunt to make you jolt. “What a sweet little thing you are. Already so wet for me … I’m flattered.”

You momentarily forget how to breathe when he spreads your lips with a deliberate, savory slowness, and lets out a quiet huff at what he sees. Flushed so hot you think you might just pass out from the sharp, debilitating stabs of humiliation that slice into you, your hands blindly reach down to brace against the lower half of the construct and lift your weight up off your stomach a bit. You couldn’t process this. Couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he was not only touching you but even looking right at your most intimate of spots, completely unheeded.

The sting of burning, deeply embarrassed tears floods your eyes and you whimper, mewling a plaintive plea as he idly draws smooth, glove encased fingers through folds and petal-soft creases to further spread your slick around. Emphasizing how copious it is, and how very sticky you were. You try to brace yourself for what will come next — unsure what that would be, exactly, but knowing in some primal, animal part of your brain that your trial was far from over — but it still shocks you a great deal when Morax finds your entrance and applies just enough pressure to dip a finger inside.

Your whole body jerks with the sensation of him reaching into you, the sinuously smooth texture of his glove slipping and sliding indecently against your guts. Even when your pussy squeezes around the unexpected intrusion, even when your body aches in protest at being suddenly stretched, it does nothing to stop him from gliding in straight down to the knuckle. Heaving a gutted little noise, you lurch and almost lose your hold on the geo construct.

“Oh!”

“A tight fit.” He murmurs, more to himself than you. Which is good, because your head is spinning so fast you really aren’t confident in your ability to respond coherently right now. “I suppose I will have to take the time to properly prepare you first, then … I don’t think you’ll be able to take me like this.”

Take him?

The powerful god behind you doesn’t give you a chance to linger on that thought, gradually withdrawing his finger and then pushing back in to send you scrabbling at the surface of the stone. Slow and steady, he takes his time massaging along your inner sleeve with a level of patience you’d long since come to recognize in him but it drives you absolutely insane in this situation. Your pussy thrums eagerly around him, already so keen and sensitized from his earlier petting that it doesn’t take long at all for you to start feeling the muscles lock up in vibrating tension. Seething through your teeth, you try once again to bring your legs up even if only to brace against the sensation wracking through your lower body, but it’s futile. All you do is uselessly squirm in place, hips bucking slightly every time he reaches deep inside you.

But then — you choke on a haggard, frantic sound when he introduces a second finger to your soaked cunt, sliding in just as easily as before but the stretch was so much more intense this time that your eyes start to roll back. Hissing through your teeth, you can do nothing but endure it while he takes a moment to rub along your interior, caressing over every bump and ridge as if in careful consideration before he finally angles his fingertips down. Down. He curls them, crooks them in a come hither motion, and presses right into something that makes your heart catch in your throat. You start to wheeze, gasping and choking on the blinding pressure as he teases that spongy spot for a just moment and then sedately jabs into it again. Once, twice, and on the third time you shatter, falling into uncontrollable tremors while you wail in distress.

But no matter how hard you shake or judder your hips, he just keeps moving his fingers. Alternating between teasing at that insidious nerve cluster and casually working those long digits in and out of you at a tortuously slow, stilted pace. In a matter of moments he seems to milk your orgasm for everything it’s worth, leaving your cunt soft and pliant around the intrusion, and then immediately starts to build into the next. Your sensitive, post-climax twitching is very quickly replaced by the eager, needy roll of your shaking hips as you instinctively grind back on him, seeking out more like you were already addicted to it.

Your cheeks burn in excitement and shame alike, and another faltering groan slips out of you, unbidden, when you realize how stiff your nipples have become under your shirt. They seem to jut out in stiff, fine points, as if seeking out that same source of friction your cunt was getting, and that only humiliates you even further. You’d never felt like this before. Never known your body to turn on you so completely that your tits felt heavy with arousal where they were swaying softly each time you moved, nor had your pussy ever been so very responsive … either Morax was a very talented individual when it came to stroking another’s body to vibrating fever pitch or you were far weaker for him than you’d first thought.

Somehow you got the feeling it was a potent combination of the two. You also can’t quite shake the sense of being even more outmatched against him in this situation than you ever were in any of your martial sparring bouts, and that was certainly saying something.

“Master, p - please! I can’t take it …” You finally manage to hiss.

“Oh? Are you going to cum again already, my sweet little rabbit?”

Involuntarily, your pussy clamps down on his fingers hard, and he issues a low chuckle in response, still sedately fucking into your body at the same unhurried pace. It was like he had all the time in the world to do this, and he probably did. You can’t help but grimace at the sticky clicks and wet little slurps coming from the other side of the spire, as embarrassed that your cunt was making those kinds of noises as you were about Morax being the one to not only cause them but that he was hearing them too. That shame does very little to dissuade your arousal though and it seems like you’re wildly shaking again in just a matter of moments, your jaw clenched so tight it actually hurts. It was too much.

“My, this is a surprise.” He says over your high pitched, sensitive bleating. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so easily brought to climax, and in such a short amount of time too … perhaps I should retrieve a bucket to put under you if you’re going to keep cumming like this?”

You let out a long, keening groan as the tremors in your body finally start to ebb and fade but he merely chuckles at your reaction, clearly finding humor in it. If you’d been in any position to do so, you probably would have found the whole thing rather funny too. After all, it wasn’t every day one was able to witness the Lord of Geo laying claim to one of his Adepti with such ease and agility.

Distantly, you’re aware of him shifting behind you moments before his fingers pull out with a wet pop that leaves you shuddering anew while your pussy weakly squeezes around something that was no longer there. You try to catch your breath in that moment, having no idea how long it would last, but your body is so high strung and sore, a lingering ache settling deep within you in the aftermath of being stretched open, that you can’t seem to calm yourself.

“Master, please,” You beg, still wheezing harshly. “I did not mean to upset you … I only wanted to show you what I learned from the Yaksha, I swear it! I wouldn’t ever — ahhn!”

Your desperate pleas suddenly catch in your throat when you feel him brush against you, long robes fluttering around your bare, quaking thighs as something decidedly fleshy presses into you from behind. Warm and uncompromisingly rigid, it just touches your sticky labia and then pauses there, hovering. Waiting. The not so subtle threat has you wildly bucking against the stone structure, struggling just to breathe. You’d never wanted to turn and look at something so much in your entire life, but you can’t do that like this. Not with your front half dangling from one side of the construct while the lower - -

His hands abruptly squeeze around your hips, holding you still, and you let out a frazzled, helpless little mewl when he nudges into you enough you can feel your cunt lips parting under the stilted pressure. Weakly kicking your legs in an attempt to find something you could brace against, even if it was just by the tips of your toes, proves utterly useless. You were a bit too high off the ground, evidently level with his hips, and it forces you to experience the slow press of his cock in startling high definition.

You may not have been able to see it, but he felt big. Much bigger than you were prepared to take, and you loose a wild, high pitched squeal at the oppressive sensation of him poised and ready to lay claim to you.

“Do you remember what I said, little one?” Drawing a brief, savory breath, Morax gives another, barely there push, and just sinks into the give of your entrance before stilling again. Not quite breaching you yet but positioned to follow through at any moment, giving you plenty of time to process the full weight of your impending domination. “This is a symbolic act, first and foremost. You are inexperienced in the ways of this world so it is my duty to teach you … tell me, then. Do you know what the lesson is?”

It takes you a shamefully long moment to kickstart your brain enough to even realize he’s asked you a question. You were so overwhelmed by just his presence behind you, the impact of this innate claim he had on you and your body. For a long beat, you can’t even seem to find your voice.

“… I — I don’t know. I’m not sure.” You finally manage to warble.

“Hm? I don’t think I quite believe that. Why don’t you take a guess?”

He nudges you again, tauntingly sinking forward as if to finally penetrate you at long last, but never quite following through on it. Your pussy thrums in nervous anticipation, and he sighs very softly when your body seems to suckle at the tip of him with each shuddering clench of vibrating muscle. Arms trembling slightly from the effort, you awkwardly readjust their slipping hold on the spire and try to think. You needed to say something, preferably something other than mindless, overwrought gibberish.

“Is it that — you want me to feel what it’s like to be bested by you? To understand how weak I really am …?”

“Oh, precious thing. It’s not that you are weak, nor is that what I want you to take away from this.” Gently, almost affectionately, Morax smooths over the skin across your hips with blunt thumbs as if to comfort you. “Rather, this is but a symbolic representation of what can happen if you underestimate your foes. Even your god is not quite as immune to territorial displays as he would like to be. It’s been a long, long time since someone last challenged me in earnest … and you’ve awakened the beast in me today by presenting yourself as one.”

His strong fingers abruptly dig into you, hard enough to bruise, and you gasp at the pain. It is quickly overshadowed, however, by the sharp, splintering stretch of his tip pressing into you, forcing your guts to allow him entry one earth shuddering inch at a time. You abruptly understand then, realization lighting up within you in a far off, dreamy sort of way. This was a conquest. You’d been teasing the dragon in him this entire time — the way you looked at him, the way you challenged him and even the way you’d taken the word of one of his most loyal followers in a sea of many and tried to turn it back around on him. He wasn’t punishing you in the strictest sense, but giving in to his instinctive urge to dominate and claim. To quash opposition with his heavy fists and stand at the top, on his divine throne, where he rightfully belonged, to claim the spoils for himself and breed his powerful heirs.

A hollowed out, gutted groan tumbles from your mouth as he enters you from behind, his cock so big and heavy inside you the stretch of it seems to reverberate deep in your bones. You can barely even breathe around it, the way it seems to punch the air right out of your lungs, leaving you clawing at the monolith like a trapped animal. A hare, in a hunters noose. Inch by staggering inch, it feels like he’s breaking you in half and all you can do is woundedly bleat into the otherwise still garden. Morax was not just taking you for himself in the physical sense, he was subjugating your body to his rock solid will like a tyrant.

“My lesson to you is thus,” He growls, practically snarls behind you, as he sinks another tortuous fraction into your heaving guts. “Do not tempt fate and let sleeping gods lie. You never know what sort of mood they’ll wake up in.”

Keening frantically now, you arch so hard against your stone prison you feel the strain of it in your spine. But his hold on your hips is as good as iron and your lower body is practically immobilized like this, save the uncontrollable shake of your legs. You hear him grunt behind you, very softly, and then give his cock a stilted little push that has him sinking in even deeper, so deep you can practically taste him on the back of your tongue. The way he stretches your cunt so completely, so oppressive with the weight of him behind you, in you, against you, seems to overwhelm all your senses at once, and it takes you a prolonged beat to realize when he’s stilled again.

Panting harshly, you hang there for a moment as if in suspended animation, just trying to process his heavy presence inside your body, and then it occurs to you … his strong, narrow hips are pressed flush against your upturned ass. Seated in you straight down to the hilt. Your cunt had never felt so full, so stuffed right to the breaking point before, and you wheeze like some broken, wounded little thing.

“Hunger,” Morax intones, so abruptly it startles a low whine out of you. “For the flesh and blood of the illuminated beasts. Wrath, for those that dared disturb their slumber. Greed, to reclaim what was once theirs by any means necessary.” His fingers dig further into your hips and hold you in place as he carefully angles back just enough to drag at your guts. “Or, in some cases, you might even find yourself speared down the middle on a beastly cock that is much too big for your poor little body to take. You must tread carefully around the gods, little one. We are not quite as magnanimous as we may seem.”

Nudging himself forward again, he sinks back into you as far as he can reach. Your pussy throbs around him, weakly contracts with a warning tremor that makes fresh tears spring up in your eyes. You know you’re riding a dangerous line, just hanging on the precipice of some great, gaping abyss, and you’re helpless to stop it as he settles into a mind numbingly stilted rhythm. He fucks you like he could do this for hours and never tire, like he has all the stamina in the world to put his mark on you at his own pace, on his own time. Morax is not in any hurry to rush this, and it is that slow, halting motion of his hips and the blinding stretch that comes with it that soon shoves you over the edge.

You cum again, embarrassingly fast, but he doesn’t so much as pause to let you catch your breath. Just keeps fucking you even when you wail in overstimulated distress and dire urgency, your jolting legs slowly losing their strength until you have no choice but to let them dangle loose in the air while he ruts into you. You were exhausted. Completely spent.

And Morax was not going to stop until he finished sating the draconic instinct to take whatsoever happened to catch his golden eye, even if that thing was but a helpless little rabbit.

⭐

Crossposted here

#genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #self insert bullshit

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