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queers-gambit · 6 months

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Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

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kaizokuniichan · 8 months

Text

Attention - Part 1: Mossy Musings

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro/Afab Reader (referred to as she/her)/Trafalgar Law

Summary: There’s something going on with you and Law. But there’s also something going on with you and Zoro.

• This chapter is very tame and just kind of sets up the plot. Supposed to take place after Dressrosa so Law is onboard the Sunny. Everyone is pining.

CW: none for this chapter

Word Count: 2k

Next Chapters: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

*This specific chapter doesn’t have any inappropriate material but the rest of the story will so MDNI

(Divider by @cafekitsune Banner by @/eelnoise)

Zoro knew you had a thing for Law. For someone as perceptive as him, he’d especially mastered reading you. Normally you were very precious with which parts of yourself you revealed, but when you liked something, that preciousness began to slip away.

He wasn’t jealous of Law, far from it actually. He respected the hell out of him, respected his strength and how formidable of a fighter he was, and respected how much he trusted Luffy as an ally despite how tentative that allyship was. But he was curious as to what exactly attracted you to him. He knew objectively he was a good-looking guy, he was older, and he had an underlying angst that seemed to appeal to you. But he was just as guarded as you were, and if your walls were a chain link fence, needing to be rattled to shake off little nuggets of your innermost self, his walls were a 20 foot tall, thick slab of concrete.

Maybe it was the mystery of wanting to figure him out and getting him to open up, something that seemed impossible given the incompatibility of his personality with the raucousness of your crew. But you did have a disarming air, and a penchant for making people comfortable enough to reveal their vulnerabilities. So maybe throughout the time Law spent on the ship you’d began chipping away at that concrete slab.

Law was even harder to read, though not impossible. Zoro saw the way his eyes lingered, intrigue pooling in his irises. How he seemed to anticipate your needs, wordlessly filling your plate with more vegetables and rice during meals; always at the right place and the right time to catch you whenever your clumsiness tripped your feet. How his scowl softened when you came to him with a question about an ailment you’d been plagued with since Chopper wasn’t available. It was subtle, but the tension in his shoulders, and the grit in his teeth (irritated by Strawhat antics) would dissipate as you followed him to extract yourselves from the chaos any time your social batteries depleted. Just like Robin, you were someone he seemed to have found comfort in, but it was different with you. He was different with you.

Zoro observed the two of you, tucked away in your favorite corner of the deck overlooking the glittering reflection of the setting sun. Law sat next to you at an appropriate distance, back against the railing and arms rested on bent knees. He didn’t face you but his body was positioned in a way that suggested he was actively engaged with your presence. A subtle movement of his mouth made you giggle, obviously in relation to something he’d said. Law didn’t say things that were intended to be funny, but sometimes his dry platitudes were so dramatic one could find them quite amusing. Your laughter pulled his attention back to you, eyes shifting to your face and lips curling into a barely perceptible smile. It took him several moments to drag his gaze away from yours to look down at his hands.

You must’ve complimented his tattoos, something you’d not so subtly alluded to liking on more than one occasion, though not to Law directly. To Zoro’s mild surprise Law held his hand out for you to trace your fingers over the ink. He watched as you gushed, biting your lip in concentration as you admired the intricate shapes and patterns. Law’s eyes never left your face, heated pride radiating from his skin. A hint of pink dusted his cheeks as you placed his palm on top of yours, curling and threading your fingers to you compare the sizes of your hands. Zoro snickered; this was your classic move. He’d seen you do it countless times in a local bar with some nameless patron; hell, you’d even done it to him. It always turned the person into putty, and the effect on Law was no different.

Zoro’s snort caught your attention as both your heads snapped over to him. Law discreetly snatched his hand from yours, subtly shifting further away. Zoro took pity on the man, obviously not realizing he’d had an audience, and raised his jug of sake in acknowledgment. While the two of you waffled about, trying to put some space between you, a workout in the crow’s nest suddenly felt very appealing as Zoro took his katanas and made his way back inside. As he approached the door leading to the kitchen he caught sight of Robin sitting at her little table, sipping on a cup of tea. She greeted him with a serene smile and a friendly wave which Zoro returned with another lift of his jug. Just as he was about to pass she turned to him, tinkling voice lilting over the lip of her teacup.

“Does that bother you?” She asked, eyes drifting over to you and Law still pretending to not have been canoodling on the other side of the deck.

Zoro knew it was pointless playing dumb about what she was implying. She was always in tune with everything going on aboard the ship.

“No, not really,” he huffed, already knowing where this was going.

“Just curious?”

Zoro looked back over his shoulder at you, still dragging your fingers along Law’s arm.

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighed, continuing on his journey and ignoring the amused glint in her eye.

“She seems to have a type, handsome and powerful swordsmen.”

Zoro stopped in his tracks as he shook his head, laughing to himself.

“Seems like her attention span is fleeting since there’s a new boy toy around.”

“Are you saying you’re also her boy toy?” Robin prodded, eyebrows raised in mock surprise and still infuriatingly calm and collected as she flustered him.

“I’m not saying I’m anything,” he muttered, grinding his teeth as his ears burned. Robin had a knack for zeroing in on the most humiliating parts of himself. It was why he avoided her as much as he could.

He started to stomp away, but she reeled him back with one final jab.

“If it does bother you, you should act fast. Something tells me he’s feeling more bold the closer we get to Zou. He might want to snatch her up before you get to her first.”

A niggling sense of dread ate at the center of his chest as he pictured you leaving the crew to join the Heart Pirates. To be with him. He knew there was no way that would happen, but the thought still shook him, ice filling his veins. He wasn’t going to let Robin’s predictably dark musings rattle him; he was fine. It’s not like he had anything going on with you anyway, save for some fleeting glances here and there, a lingering touch in passing. You two hadn’t even kissed. Neither of you were the type to commit to anything on a romantic scale, and Zoro wasn’t the type to delude himself into believing that any of it actually meant something. There was too much on the line with him working to achieve his goals, and your relationship as crew mates. A little mutual attraction was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

After a few hours of blowing steam in the gym, Zoro collapsed onto the bench, muscles groaning with relief. He’d brought the jug of sake with him upstairs, and took a healthy swig, gulping down as if it were water.

As trails of escaped sake ran down the sides of his face, your head suddenly appeared above the ladder, eyes meeting his and face blooming into a smile. As more of your body lifted up into the space he smirked. You’d donned an old sweatshirt of his, worn and fraying hem falling halfway to your knees. His mouth betrayed him as he grinned, feeling slightly gleeful that you’d chosen a piece of him to adorn yourself with.

You walked over to where he sat, the sound of your slides slapping your heels echoing against the walls. As you stood in front of him, you thrust your hand out and made grabby motions at his jug.

“Use your words,” he tsked, clutching the sake to his chest.

“Gimme some of that,” you pouted, still offering your hand to him.

He grasped your hand, pulling you down to collapse next to him, dragging you closer.

“You smell horrible,” you huffed, wrinkling your nose.

“You knew that when you came here.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you grumbled, finally snatching the sake from him.

“But you knew it was a 50/50 chance.”

“Hm. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He snickered as he watched you take a sip, gagging at the taste. He’d busted your balls enough times about how you couldn’t actually handle it, so he’d let it slide just this once.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I’ve hardly been able to at all this week.”

“Too busy thinking about Tall Broody Sideburns?” He couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled, lip poking out in another pout. Normally you wore an armor of stoicism when you felt exposed but now you weren’t even trying.

“You sure weren’t shy when you were making googly eyes at him earlier.”

“Don’t be jealous,” you rebounded, mushing his face with your hand. He caught your wrist in a loose hold, looking into your eyes.

“You know it’s not a good idea to fraternize with the enemy.”

Your shriek of laughter caught him off guard, but he buzzed with satisfaction for making you smile.

“You’re so annoying you know that?”

He let go of your wrist, stretching his arm along the back of the bench. You shifted closer, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I thought you said I smelled.”

“You do but I’m getting used to it. Color me shocked.”

His hand came down to grasp your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“You know it’s fine with me right? It’s no pressure you know.”

You turned to look at him, an unreadable expression on your face.

“No pressure about what? There’s nothing going on.”

Zoro knew he’d said something wrong, your body pulling away from his grasp. You stood up preparing to leave when reached for your hand.

“You know how complicated this is though, right? He’s technically our enemy when all of this shit is over with.”

Still standing, you turned back to throw him a conflicted look.

“Yeah I know I just…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You wanna be greedy and have us both?”

You pulled your hand from his, shaking your head.

“I just want to feel wanted, you know? I can’t help that I like…who I like,” you sighed, briefly catching his eye. “I just. I know none of this, any of this, can become anything. It’s all so fucked.”

Zoro grunted as he straightened up in his seat, wrapping an arm around your waist to plop you back down at his side.

“If you’re worried that this will put a damper on…whatever’s going on, don’t worry about it. It’s up to you to determine what you want. I’m obviously not going anywhere.

“Obviously?”

“You know that.”

His words seemed to melt the tension as you settled back into his side.

“Why are you being so accommodating?”

He nuzzled the side of your face and pulled you closer against him.

“Because. We live together stupid.”

You scoffed, playfully flicking his forehead.

“And because I respect you. And at the end of the day I do care about you.”

You turned in your seat to look at him, curiosity painting your face.

“You know, you’re a lot cuter than you give yourself credit for.”

He rolled his eye but couldn’t wipe the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Being cute isn’t something I strive to be.”

“So you just can’t help it. That makes it cuter.”

Refusing to argue any further, he squeezed your sides, eliciting another one of those banshee shrieks he always teased you about.

You were both unaware of the man at the bottom of the ladder, listening intently and brimming with a new resolve.

#myfic #roronoa zoro x reader #Trafalgar law x reader #forgot to tag this lmfao #zoro x reader #law x reader #attention series

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llovekami · 5 months

Text

is it really you? / eren j.

synopsis: eren jaeger was the best and worst part of your life. your first love, first heartbreak; but what if when you move on, he comes right back and worse than ever?

content warnings: angst(?), smut, porn with plot, p in v, unprotected sex, hair pulling (on eren), biting, reader is gender neutral but afab and femininely dressed, toxic eren, implied cheating, pet names angel, sweets, pretty, possessive eren

a/n: never wrote for eren before. i love toxic men even though i'd probably kms if i fell for a toxic man irl.

eren jaeger was your worst nightmare. your first love on college campus, freshmen year. honestly, the red flags were there - he started flirting the first night you met despite him having his hand on your best friends hip not even a few moments ago before she shoo'd him off in your direction. even worse, it was a halloween party—it was bound to fail from the start. the flimsy material of the black dress you wore and the fake tail clipped to the back of it to make more of a dressy cat woman outfit. the little cat ears you wore reflected the flashing strobe lights of the room, the glitter etched into the black fake fur shining brightly.

he was eager, a real flirt—he had you fooled. if only you had discovered months prior of his scandals with other women, you would've brushed him off the same way your friend did. but when you ended up on your back that night, arched with sweat pooling down your body and the high of pure ecstasy rushing through your veins, you were hooked.

for the next 6 months, you were treated like the campus queen. "eren's never settled down so fast.." "what'd you do to him?" "what spell did you bewitch him with?"

numerous of your friends had warned you of what would happen. your heart would get broken and you'd ugly cry for days, just like you were known to do even over the slightest inconvenience or frustration from you, but you clung hope. eager to make it work, you gave it your all, yet to eren... your all hadn't been enough.

the countless night you had spent on your back or on your stomach with your head pushed into the pillow, in front of your mirror, spending hundreds on fancy lingerie for him to tear off and promise to buy more had all meant nothing. it wasn't that you were shocked when you found him in a room with another woman he told you not to worry about.

her grin haunts your nightmares, and the glint in his intoxicated eyes still made you sweat in your sleep—you moved to learn on, in peace, but it took you until your sophomore year to begin dating once more. it was a sweet, polite boy, someone who'd surely treat you right.

but somehow, eren lured you right back in with a couple of apologies and wet eyes. he always looked prettiest with those long wet lashes of his batting away tears, not that you'd ever mad him cry—but seeing him sniffle over your own crying still made your heart warm.

he pulled you away from the crowd, hiding in a private room and sitting you down on the bed. he said it was to "talk", to put the past behind you. if that was the case, why was his hand dragging up your thigh?

"eren, no touching—" you gasped quietly once he traced over that one barely ticklish spot on your inner upper thigh, watching the way his dimples formed once he smiled. "i still know your body like the back of my hand, angel. i always will." he whispered, letting his lips run along the soft of your neck. your date, the man you were planning on going right back to, waited for you patiently downstairs while your ex kissed on your skin.

"eren," you muttered desperately, brows furrowing as you pushed back slightly on his shoulders. you squirmed in his hold, the old feelings that you had so desperately pushed down resurfacing quickly. your fingers grasped a hold of his long dark brown hair, the same hair that you had tugged on so desperately months ago while he made home in between your thighs. he giggled against your skin, green eyes leaning in on you.

"too much, sweets? cant handle it? are you really satisfied with the fucker that brought you in here?" eren whispered, the words trailing into your ear and igniting a deep fire within you, "he knows you're still mine, angel. you don't blush the way you used to with me." he muttered, snaking the dress you wore upwards and around your waist, noting the way your panties clung to your body. his pinkie teased the lace of it, grinning just a bit.

he sunk to his knees slowly, spreading your thighs apart just slightly. a hunger took over the both of you, your entire body melting into his touch. parting your lips, you were so tempted to beg, eager to whimper his name and scream it to the top of your lungs without him even ghosting his fingers along your core. his teeth dug into the fat of your thighs, looking up to you as he sucked harshly against your skin.

barely a moment had passed before your clothes were eagerly tugged off and he pushed you on your back, taking in the dips and curves that he had foolishly taken for granted. he breathed in your scent and kissed the crook of your neck once more. after he had prepped and entered the same wet cavern that gripped him like a vice, it took his all not to cum right there and then—no words in the english lexicon could explain how desperately he missed this, more so, missed you.

"pussy s'perfect, dunno how i coulda' thrown this away, fuck," he muttered under his breath. the praise had your toes curling, the angle of which he had you in with your hips slightly upward and your ankles locked around his back, had you seeing the stars you never thought you'd see again. the overwhelming feeling of guilt chewed at you, tears prickling your eyes as you watched him enter and leave you with his thrusts.

it was easy to tell when eren was holding back, and now was that exact time. the usual rough pace that you grew accustomed to within the 6 months of dating was now replaced with something much lighter. it had you think, even just for a moment, if this was really eren. the gentleness in which he cradled you, his thumbs rubbing circles into your thighs as he marked you up from the crook of your neck to the valley of your breasts.

you dont know how many times you sobbed his name, nails digging into his back while sweat covered your bare bodies. "you're s'pretty, don't know why i didn't see that with you, ma," he muttered with a moan, "like that? yeah, felt you get a lil' tighter. fuck, keep clenchin' me like that an' i wont be able ta pull out." he groaned against your skin, and you sobbed, "missed you, 'ren, missed you s'much!" you called out desperately without a care in the world. the bass from the music outside still thumped against your heart, so being loud wasn't an issue.

he shuttered at the sound of your begging, and the gentle thrusts that he had started with growing more erratic. you moaned, the spongy spot inside you that he never had any trouble reaching now being abused. his thumb that had previously rested on your thigh now drew attention to your clit, dragging tight circles around it rapidly as if to bring you impossibly closer to the edge.

"eren," you cried, convulsing as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, "gonna cum, m'gon cum, 'ren!" you warned, waterline wet from tears that had shifted from guilt to those of pure overwhelming pleasure. "cum with me, pretty, you wan' cum? cum with me." eren pleaded with you, those jade eyes of his watching the way he disappeared into your hole.

with his encouragement, you reached and came to your peak. you twitched and arched your back higher and higher until you were struggling to breath, feeling the way eren stilled and helped you ride out your high while his own pent-up cum desperately spilled inside you, filing you to the brim as he moaned.

calming down, he grinned at you. "i'm so sorry i left you, angel," he cooed. he brushed your hair back, kissing your forehead while you stared up at him with the prettiest fucked-out expression he never got tired of. "missed this pretty pussy, missed that pretty little face of yours." he hummed, pulling out slowly with a shlick sound coming as he did. he pulled up his pants and ran out, fetching a wash cloth as he returned.

"promise i'll do better if you just give me a chance and drop that fucker you're talking to," he muttered, kissing the hickeys that lined your neck as you nodded drowsily, "you were always mine, pretty. you never stopped being mine."

divider by cafekitsune

#aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren aot #eren smut #eren jaeger x you #eren yaeger smut #tw.cheating #toxic eren

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juiles · 9 months

Text

All to well

Plot: idk. have fun!

Type: angst and fluff

Warnings: i am in no way saying that this is how all autistic people are!! This fic is based off my PERSONAL experience with autism and sensory overload. Please remember this as you read!!

Masterlist here!

Request here!

————————————————————————-

Being autistic has drawbacks for a normal person, but for an actress in Marvel movies, it was tough. I’m proud of who I am but I didn’t want the pitying looks, the comments or being stuck as only getting the “autistic” role so for my own sake, I’m not super open about it.

My parents are ashamed of it so they never told anyone and I was forced to mask anytime I was around anyone. Not even Scar knew, and she was my best friend, almost a mother figure to me. I didn’t want her to think any different of me. She’s known me since i was 7 and played her on screen adopted daughter in Iron Man 2.

We’re filming Endgame right now. I’m on my way to set with Scarlett. Today has been a rough day for me so far as my parents woke me up by screaming at me which then caused me to struggle in keeping my mask up. Scar picked me up and I’m already exhausted, I’ve caught myself stimming a few times and quickly stopped it.

When we pulled into the parking lot, i grabbed my bag and walked with her through set to our trailers where we left our stuff and we’re immediately shuffled to makeup and costumes.

“Oh shit…” I mutter staring at the costume in Erica’s hand. “I didn’t realize it was a fight scene today…”

“Babe.” Erica, my assistant and on set guardian says. She’s known about me since the first day which was when i was 7. “You’ve known about this for a week. Are you okay?”

“I’m super over stimulated right now…” I murmur tapping my leg in sets of 7, a common stim for me.

“Let’s do hair and makeup first okay? Keep you out of the costume until the last second okay?” I nod and the two of us move to hair and makeup where Scarlett is getting her hair done.

“Hey, where’s your costume kid?” She asks looking over at me.

“I uh-“ I glance at Erica who steps in for me quickly.

“It had a small tear in it so it’s getting fixed quickly.” Scarlet merely hums in response and I sit. Getting my wig on and makeup done is awful, having everyone touching me and all their voices so close to me ears. I feel a soft hand on my cheek and peek my eyes open to see Scar staring at me in concern.

“Stop grinding your jaw babe…” I release my jaw, not even realizing i had been doing it. “You okay love? You disappeared for a bit there.” I respond with a hum, my voice disappearing from within. “Let’s get your costume on and to set okay?”

I look around quickly and don’t see Erica, Scarlet must see the panic as she quickly says. “She got called away in an emergency. I’m going to be your guardian today.” I nod, feeling the panic bubble up in my chest, but give her a soft smile.

The two of us make our way to my trailer and she helps me quickly slip into the suit. I immediately want to rip it off as it’s skin tight and an uncomfortable material. It feels like it’s digging into my skin and pulling it away as if it’s velcro and my skin is the other side. I take a deep breath and come out to see Scar in costume waiting. “Ready?” I nod and we head to set where I realize it’s a busy day, all original 6 avengers, Lizzie, both Paul’s, Gwen and Cobie are all there. I internally groan as immediately, the girls are coming over to me and Scar talking a mile a minute. I stand next to Scarlett silently until Lizzie turns to me. “Hey kiddo. Ready to fight? We have to fly today.” My eyes widen for a moment before i force a smile and nod at the fake red head in front of me.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” This makes everyone around us laugh but it makes me feel awful. I have no voice, it comes and goes, when it’s gone, my parents ridicule me, I get hit. I look down as i feel my tears well up in my eyes and blink rapidly trying to will them away. I thank god silently when Joe calls us to places which means i get away from the now very suddenly concerned looking Scarlett, Lizzie and Cobie. I’m stuck with Renner as I get rigged up, the feeling of being sick suddenly appearing as more people touch me.

I feel the lump in my throat tighten and the feeling of the harness wrapped around me suddenly makes me feel like it’s constricting my breathing and everyone around me disappeared as my hands flung to the harness, in my panic my hands struggled with the buckle which just made me more infuriated and grunts started coming out as my tears blurred my vision.

I feel a set of hands on mine holding them down, i scream and rip mine away and start scratching at my throat trying to rip it open to get a breath. My eyes started blacking out and the last thing i see is Scarlett’s panicked face as she tries to grab at my hands before it all goes black.

Scarlett’s POV

I know something is off with y/n. Not off but just that she was different. I have had a feeling it was autism for a while now, today proved that to me.

She was silent the whole car ride to set, normally she’d be singing along the radio but she wouldn’t even let me turn it on today. As soon as we got to set she locked herself in her trailer without a word, the next time i saw her, she looked panicked and while she was getting her hair and makeup done she disappeared fully before i brought her back. She has days where she goes mute, she just calls them her bad days, they usually happen on days she has arguments with her parents but normally she can still communicate to me in different ways but today she was completely gone. It got worse as soon as she realized Erica was gone. Walking on to set, she tended up and i saw her tapping her thigh every once in a while. The comment that Lizzie made would normally make her laugh, her reaction today was off.

I watched her from the corner of my eye but had to look away for a second before i heard Renner.

“Y/N!! What are you doing?! You’re going to hurt yourself!” I whip my head around and my heart sinks as i see y/n struggling with her harness, her hands are shaking violently, tears streaming down her face, her eyes are glazed over. I bolt over and grab her hands gently.

“Y/n baby, stop. You’ve got to stop my love.” She rips her hands out of mine and starts clawing at her throat which is when i notice she’s not breathing properly. She’s barely able to get a small breath. Instincts kick in for me and i turn to the cast and crew crowding her. “Give her space. Now. I need someone to set up a dark room with minimal sound and her clothes she was wearing this morning as well as the blanket from my trailer. A cold cloth and her wig taken off.” I turn around as she starts to collapse, i grab her arm and quickly wrap an arm around her waist. “Now!”

It’s a bit of a blur after that honestly, the next thing i know, im alone with her in the green room after everything is unplugged and blankets are draped over the windows. Her wig is already off and someone hands me my blanket and her clothes before silently leaving. I help her unconscious body out of the suit and into her clothes before draping my weighted blanket over her body. I sit back and stare at her, not touching her at all but close enough if she needs me.

It felt like hours but looking at my watch, it shows it’s only been 20 minutes when she finally wakes up.

My heart is beating what feels like a million mile a minute with panic as i watch her blue eyes flutter open before she looks around the room for a moment. Her hand comes out of the blanket and she starts tapping her thigh again, her head nodding along to each tap. She squeezes her eyes shut and i can hear her voice mumbling. “I’m safe. I’m here. I’m y/n.” Over and over again, i quietly cough to get her attention and she quickly sits up and her head whips up to look at me with wide eyes, both hands start scratching at the other wrist. “Oh my god…”

“Baby, you are safe. It’s just me.”

“No… no… no no no no no no no no.” She started tugging her hair and rocking slightly. “They’re going to kill me… you aren’t supposed to know…”

I quickly scoot over and grab her hands before pulling her into my chest, she tenses for a moment before melting into my arms. “I can’t hide it anymore Scar…”

“I know baby… I know.” I mutter into her hair swaying us back and forth slightly.

“I’m autistic…”

“Oh baby i know…” She freezes and looks at me with wide eyes. I can ready the fear in her blue eyes. “You hide it really really well but I’m basically your mom my love. I had suspicions but didn’t want to push you into telling me. Today was too much.” She nods burying herself back into me. “I need you to know that I will always listen to you. That if you ever feel like that again, you can tell me and i’ll get you out of it. Baby seeing you pass out was terrifying. I need you to know that if you’re that overwhelmed, that you do not have to do all that.”

“But… my parents don’t want everyone knowing… they’re all gonna know now…” She mumbles into me, my heart cracks.

“Baby being autistic is not a bad thing. It makes you even more amazing. It’s not something to be ashamed of at all. You are allowed to be who you are. To stim when your emotions are too high. To have bad days. I am here to show you that.” I say looking her directly into her eyes. “I’m here to support you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded quickly. She sat up and started tapping her thigh as she stared at me. “This is my favourite stim, it’s really subtle but it calms me down… i count the most important people in my life.” She then looks down at her hand as she taps each finger. “Scarlett.” Tap. “Lizzie.” Tap. “Renner.” Tap. “Gwen.” Tap. “Cobie.” Tap. “Rob.” Tap. “Rosie.” Tap. “It reminds me that you guys would love me, no matter how broken or weird i am because i know how much you care.” She looked up at me through her eyelashes. “Another one is tapping here.” She taps her chest right above her heart twice. “Right here.” She does the tap to each word. “This is where you sit in my body. I usually only do this one when I’m not wearing my necklace. Playing with that is the stim i can do out in public.” I pulled her into my arms again as I cried.

“Oh baby…”

“You’ve always been my safe space Scar…”

“And i will be your safe space for the rest of eternity.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes before she pulls away with a smile. “Thank you. For learning how to help me.”

“You are more than welcome my love. Let’s go home and have a calm day okay?” She nods before standing up, pulling my weighted blanket over herself. I stand and wrapping my arms around her waist, the two of us make our way out of the room to find Lizzie standing not too far away, crying into Gwyneths arms. Y/n instantly runs over to her and wraps her arms around the crying woman. Lizzie jumps before she turns and sees who it is and wraps the girl into her arms.

“I’m so sorry bug. I shouldn’t have made that comment. I know how bad your parents are.” Y/n shakes her head pulling back and squeezes Lizzie’s hands. “Liz that wasn’t what caused that.” She takes a glance back at me before taking a deep breath and looks back at Lizzie. “I’m autistic and I was overstimulated and everything was just too much. I won’t lie, the comment did hurt a little but i know you didn’t say it in a mean way. You didn’t hurt me, memories of my parents saying stuff hurt me. But not you.” Lizzie’s eyes widen and she glances at me before she nods breathing to calm herself down. “If you ever need to talk or are struggling you can talk to me bug.”

Y/n nods with a small smile. “I know Liz.”

“Hey. Me too.” We all turn our head to see Gwyneth with a pout on her face. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo. Never do that again. Understand?” She pulls y/n’s laughing form into her arms.

“I understand mother Paltrow.” She says making us all chuckle.

Y/n pulls away and biting her cheek looks at me. “I- i uh- I’m not ready to face everyone else yet…”

“They already left bug. It’s just us four left.” Lizzie said smoothing the crazy hair down on y/n’s head. “I couldn’t leave worried i hurt you and Gwyn couldn’t leave me alone but everyone else left to give you privacy. Scarlett went full mama bear mode and screamed at some people for trying to push her into anything. It was great.” Y/n chuckled, which brings a grin to my face.

“Of course you did. But i wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“I love you too baby.” I say kissing her head softly.

459 notes · View notes

juyeonszn · 9 months

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WHAT IS LOVE?

PAIRING ₊˚⊹ lee juyeon x f!reader

GENRES ₊˚⊹ fluff﹒crack﹒angst﹒slice of life

WARNINGS ₊˚⊹ mature language bc even on a different blog i won’t ever change, uni!au, reader is a matchmaker, juyeon plays baseball, lots of kys and kms jokes, sunwoo is an incel, a bunch of lesbian jokes, um one sided pining for a while, like i am absolutely ruthless to reader for a Hot Minute i am so sorry, but it’s okay!!! bc then i’m also ruthless to juyeon, the unrequited love in this series goes crazy, it wouldn’t be a fawn smau without a second lead — so there is a small second lead moment, most of the written parts are full of sheer Angst and i’m not sorry about it, there’s like idol shipping in here ? but it’s for the sake of the plot i swear i don’t condone idol shipping 😭 it’s literally in my carrd, the bullying in this smau goes even crazier, ummm for some reason there are a lot of barbie references towards the end

FEATURING ₊˚⊹ the rest of tbz, soyeon + yuqi from (g)-idle, seonghwa from ateez, lee know from skz, sakura from le sserafim, dahyun + tzuyu from twice, jaehyun from nct and mingyu from seventeen

SUMMARY ₊˚⊹ all is well in the business of matchmaking. except it’s actually not, because lee juyeon, the school’s star baseball player, has just come to you for help in obtaining the girl of his dreams. oh yeah! and he happens to be the guy you’ve had a crush on since your first year of university.

STATUS ₊˚⊹ complete!

BEGINNING ₊˚⊹ august 1st, 2023

ENDING ₊˚⊹ october 19th, 2023

MORE ₊˚⊹ HIIIII hello!!! my first smau on another blog this is crazy ?!!2!!22!!2 fun fact; in case the plot seems familiar, it was an old wip for yeonjunszn that i had for jake from enhypen and decided to scrap for reasons that i do not remember LOL but then it came back to me and i decided to redo it for juyo bc it was so juyo-coded and now we’re here 🤗 send an ask to join the taglist (bc note and dm notifs get swallowed up with the ones from my other blog)!!

PROFILES ₊˚⊹ realize real eyes real lies | ball hitters + the token lesbian | ouran high school host club (+ tzuyu)

ONE ₊˚⊹ i’m the ceo president and chair mama

TWO ₊˚⊹ the hwang yeji incident

THREE ₊˚⊹ i hide and u seek therapy!

FOUR ₊˚⊹ /s or /j

FIVE ₊˚⊹ setting virgins up with other virgins

SIX ₊˚⊹ POSER FAKE FAN

SEVEN ₊˚⊹ #mancrushfriday #mrstealyogirl

EIGHT ₊˚⊹ I HATE WHEN WOMEN ARE RIGHT

NINE ₊˚⊹ the start of a W matchmaking season

TEN ₊˚⊹ ur on THIN ICE JAMAL

ELEVEN ₊˚⊹ Just Like A Doughnut (2.04k)

TWELVE ₊˚⊹ need a comically large piano to fall on top of me

THIRTEEN ₊˚⊹ hit tweet follow me 🙌🙏

FOURTEEN ₊˚⊹ what the bell are u talking about

FIFTEEN ₊˚⊹ THAT WAS A CRY FOR HELP

SIXTEEN ₊˚⊹ chest heavy eyes misty

SEVENTEEN ₊˚⊹ they laugh at me cause i’m emo

EIGHTEEN ₊˚⊹ sangyeon boyfriend material era

NINETEEN ₊˚⊹ Blocked and Reported for threatening language

TWENTY ₊˚⊹ A Hole In The Shape Of You (2.17k)

TWENTY ONE ₊˚⊹ men against song yuqi

TWENTY TWO ₊˚⊹ i thought we were friends.

TWENTY THREE ₊˚⊹ u think i’m pretty??? 🥰

TWENTY FOUR ₊˚⊹ for research purposes

TWENTY FIVE ₊˚⊹ The Middle Of My Heart (1.60k)

TWENTY SIX ₊˚⊹ AND THE CROWD GOES WILD

TWENTY SEVEN ₊˚⊹ to me it was

TWENTY EIGHT ₊˚⊹ clown to clown communication

TWENTY NINE ₊˚⊹ A Space Just For You (2.05k)

THIRTY ₊˚⊹ THE JUYEON THERAPY FUND

THIRTY ONE ₊˚⊹ is this pic AI generated

THIRTY TWO ₊˚⊹ i’m gay…

THIRTY THREE ₊˚⊹ 11:11 make a wish

THIRTY FOUR ₊˚⊹ Our Love Loop (2.62k)

THIRTY FIVE ₊˚⊹ graduated from bitchless university

#the boyz #tbz #the boyz smau #the boyz social media au #tbz smau #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smau #lee juyeon social media au #juyeon x reader #juyeon smau #juyeon social media au #juyeonszn #what.is.love.juyeon🩷

486 notes · View notes

shycoconutt · 17 days

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A Future With You (Gojo x Reader)

Summary: It's been a long time since Satoru and you talked, and there are some feelings that are threatening to come to light. Can you both move on from your tragic past?

Content Warning: MDNI (18+) smut, penetration (unprotected sex, finishing inside, oral fem receiving), fem reader, some angst, porn with some plot, praise, past betrayl. Takes place post night parade, pre season one.

WC: 5.8k

Notes: I did it! First semi-long fic for JJK! Requests are open, fyi :)

“Why do you do that?”

Saturo Gojo's voice pierced through the room, interrupting your focus on your paperwork. Ignoring him, you continued ticking off points on your mission checklist, frustrated by the tedious task mandated by the higher-ups.

Ugh, it’s so annoying that they make us fill these out every time. It’s pointless, they never even read them.

“Hellllllloooooooooooooooo,” Satoru sings in your direction.

Glancing up, you find Satoru leaning forward in his chair, his white hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights of his office in one of the main buildings of Jujutsu High. His eyes are covered in thin, black material. To his right, Nanami is sprawled out on the sofa with his head resting on the armrest, one leg hanging off the side and his foot on the ground. He’s passed out, finished paperwork resting on his slowly rising and falling chest, oblivious to the world.

"My bad, I thought you were talking to Ken," you apologize, turning your attention to Satoru.

“Oh yeah, suuuuuuuure,” he pouts, “You always ignore me.”

“Not always, but most of the time,” you smile teasingly.

You were so used to Satoru’s presence, that ignoring him was one of the only ways to keep you sane. 80% of what he babbles on about is nonsense, and he knows it. He lives to tease you. The truth is, you’ve grown up together, faced death, lived and loved together. You don’t technically ignore him, you couldn’t if you tried, you just tune him down a little, like the radio.

After a brief pause, you relented, "Why do I always do what?"

Satoru smiles and leans back into his chair, pressing his fingers together.

“That thing with your feet,” he smiles, pointing towards them.

You draw your attention to your feet crossed on the coffee table in front of you. You only had your socks on, for comfort. Your brows furrowed in confusion, not exactly sure what he was getting at.

Satoru scoffs, reading your face. “That thing!”

“What thing?!” you ask, bemused.

Satoru sighs and tilts his head back in frustration. Bringing his hands together again, he begins to rub them into each other in a haphazard manner.

“This whole thing you do,” he continues to demonstrate, “It’s like your feet are making out!”

You begin to giggle as he becomes more aggressive with his hands. Your joy comes in waves throughout your body, thoroughly amused. Satoru knows how much you love his physical comedy, so he really hams it up for you.

Suddenly, he springs up from his chair and explodes like a firework, “You’re doing it again!”

“Argh, why are you yelling?” Kento grumbles from the couch, papers crumpling under his grasp as he sat up from his sprawled-out position.

“Oh, sorry Kenny,” Satoru puts a hand up to his mouth and grins. Giggles are still escaping from you as Kento grunts in frustration, gathering his papers and brushing himself off from his slumber.

“I was just over here trying so hard to complete my important work,” Gojo continues, "but we have a little cricket in the room," he quipped, looking over at you with a playful glint in his eye. It’s a look you are all too familiar with. It’s a look that gets you out of bed in the morning.

God, he’s so pretty.

Satoru is the type of pretty that transcends human – part of you swears he is extraterrestrial. His skin was born without imperfection. His white hair, although sometimes wild, is shiny and smooth. His teeth look like they are made of pearls. His body is sturdy, yet aerodynamic. Then, of course, there are his eyes.

His eyes are like mirrors facing a partly cloudy sky. Often you wondered if they would suck you in, spit you out, and watch you freefall.

Terrified of hitting the ground, you never fully give yourself over to him. You never released all of what was inside of you. If he was the sky, you were a single raindrop resting in a storm cloud, waiting to fall if the pressure of it all became too heavy.

But with him, at least on the surface, it rarely got heavy these days, so you were always able to float around in the bliss of ignorance. Maybe one day, the cloud would pass by, or evaporate altogether. Part of you hoped it would, part of you didn’t want to experience the pain that it could cause. A life without him seemed empty – a desert void of life.

But what came next threatened a downpour.

“Well, I’m out of here,” Kento huffs, “I don’t know why either of you let me fall asleep. You both know I hate staying here past five.”

“Sorry,” you start, “you just look so peaceful when you sleep. It’s a nice change of pace.” You smile, throwing him his jacket that rests next to you.

Kento let out a small hum in thanks, putting on his jacket in one quick move, swiftly exiting the room without a goodbye.

“Bye, my love! I’ll miss you every second you’re not in my arms!” Satoru cries out, running to the doorframe to wave Kento off. You scoff at his antics, turning back to your work, you finish off the rest of your checklist with disregard. Feeling the couch dip, you feel a familiar warmth on your side as Satoru makes himself comfortable.

“You know what’s funny?” he starts, “I’ve always noticed they way you mush your feet together. You do it constantly, you know that?” Taking his blindfold off, he loops it around his pointer finger, pulling the fabric back with his other hand. With pinpoint accuracy, he slingshots the band around your crossed feet. “They release a tiny amount of cursed energy when you do, it’s almost like you have a pilot light.” Obviously pleased with himself, his lips spread in a tight smirk, making your face feel warm.

God, you loath Satoru Gojo. The way his single observation makes your stomach do flips. Knowing that he perceives you. That he recognizes your patterns.

Suddenly, your hair is being pushed behind your ear by Satoru’s long fingers, his arm stretched across the length of the back of the couch.

“So soft,” you hear him mumble, barely audible. His fingers linger on the back of your ear, slowly gliding down to lightly pinch your earlobe. You watch him intently out of the corner of your eye, at a loss for words. Although his touches were light, they feel like they burn.

“Satoru…” the noise that leaves your mouth is barely a whisper.

“Hm?” he muses, fingers leaving your ear to grip your shoulder. His grip is firm, almost uncomfortable as he turns you to look him in the eyes fully.

This is one of those moments – he is sucking you in and you don’t know where you are going to fall.

That is how you two always seem to navigate, pushing the limits of what defines your relationship with moments like this. You were friends, colleagues even. You work tremendously well together, which both you and the higher-ups discovered after the death of Haibara, then the following departures of both Geto and Nanami. With just you, him and Shoko left of your former teams, and Shoko staying behind on campus to further advance her reversed curse technique, both of you were usually sent out together on missions.

At first, your missions were always done in silence, both of you trying to heal your traumas internally. In both of your defenses, navigating without verbal communication went on without a hitch. You danced around each other, synchronizing your attacks and defending the other’s back. You didn’t mind him taking the lead in most cases, because you were always exactly where you needed to be when the moment struck. You hate to admit that his looks of approval are what kept you going during that dark period of your life.

It wasn’t until you were at death’s door when feelings bubbled up to the surface. What seemed like a routine mission turned for the worse when a gaggle of special grade curses were congregated in your area. You were cornered, and with no way out, Satoru was forced to use his domain expansion. You knew it well, understanding the rules of the infinite domain. As long as you were touching, you were safe.

But Satoru cracked. In the fight leading up to the point of his release of the technique, he became high off of the feeling of exorcizing strong curses. He hates to admit it now, but his vision tunneled, and he forgot about you.

At that moment, you were not observed. You were not perceived. You were not recognized. You were an afterthought – a casualty.

As quickly as the domain exploded around you, it released. Satoru realized his mistake in a quarter of a second, but at the time, he thought that was all it took. Barely escaping the area, he raced back to Tokyo with you in his arms, your body breathing but lifeless. You couldn't respond to his cries, his profuse apologies, his pleads to the gods to let you live. Satoru Gojo thought he killed you, and he swore to you that he couldn’t, and wouldn't, move on without you.

Turns out that over the course of your time together, your roots were intertwining – hope for a new life manifesting in each other's strength to continue forward, despite everything.

You were out of it for weeks in a bed tended by Shoko. She cared for you, studied you. She took note that you were conscious, but unresponsive. It wasn’t until after where you told her that you were, in fact, conscious – all your senses worked, but you couldn't get your body to move. It was like you were frozen, much like how it was inside Satoru’s domain.

Satoru was banned from seeing you, although he often broke that rule. Every night you could sense his presence at your bedside, his delicate fingers tracing softly over your exposed skin. Those fingers always happened to make their way to your earlobe, pinching you softly there – a small plea for you to come to life. For you to sit up and slap him across the face for being so damn stupid.

And he would let you. He wanted you to leave him bloody and bruised. He wanted to experience pain by your hand. It was what he thought he deserved. That over you not talking to him ever again. Undoubtedly, that would kill him.

He received punishment from the higher-ups for being careless, to which he bore with no complaint. To this day he states that he is unsure what he would've done if you hadn't made a full recovery. Maybe it would have all been too much.

But you recovered, and you forgave.

You understood completely, knowing it was an accident. Yes, it hurt a little bit to know that he forgot about you, even for less than a second. Truth is, you forever want to hold a permanent residence in Satoru Gojo’s mind. Quite selfish of you frankly.

After your recovery, time went on and your plates began to fill. Satoru gained students. Nanami came back. New roles were filled. Expectations changed. Your relationship with Satoru continued strong, but it plateaued.

You were stuck in romantic purgatory.

Or so you thought.

“What are you doing?” you finally ask. You struggle to find the emotion hidden in his eyes. They seem excited, playful, yet serious. His brows are furrowed together, hair now fallen in front of them due to the absence of his headband.

Satoru’s lips pursed for a moment before speaking, “I-” he pauses, seemingly going over the words in his head, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.”

His hand has yet to leave your shoulder, his thumb slowly rubbing circles in the small divot located in the muscle there. It feels heavenly. Something about his energy seems so calming to you in this moment, and you acknowledge how respectful it is that he waited for a natural minute where you two would be alone. It was very rare these days. Whatever he wants to talk about, you know it’s important to him.

“Satoru, whatever it is, you know you can talk to me about anything,” you say with sincerity, placing your hand over his own.

Satoru gives you a soft smile, “I know,” his eyes travel and find their way to your hand on his, “but rarely does anything we talk about revolve around us.”

Us?

You can’t help the fluttering feeling that gathers in your lower stomach. Satoru was right, you barely had any moments to talk about anything other than work. Nanami and you were always away on missions, and he was always preoccupied with his students and Megumi. You had a moment together after the trials of the night parade and the aftermath of Suguru Geto’s death. You consoled him, took care of him for a short while. But, again, he was quiet. He was in mourning.

After that, when things turned back to normal, you asked Nanami if you could do your mission paperwork together in Satoru’s office from then on out. Any chance you had to check in on him was one you wanted to take. Nanami, being the angel that he is, agreed to this, knowing your intentions without even having to ask.

You have feelings for Satoru Gojo. You care about his well being more than you care for your own. The man labeled famously as God’s Favorite is simply just a man to you. No matter what he or anyone else thinks, you know Satoru is not invincible. He deserves to be protected too.

After a few beats, your stomach settles, and you continue on with more confidence than even he expected.

“Yes,” you begin, “we should talk about us.”

Satoru’s eyes widen by a millimeter, just enough for you to catch.

“Okay,” clearing his throat for a moment, Satoru continues, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you because I’m tired of just letting precious time pass by. You know I care about you deeply, right?”

You nod in reassurance.

Satoru's eyes darken slightly. Taking his hand off you, he slumps forward in his spot, placing his hands under his chin, propping his head up. You watch as he looks forward out the school’s window, watching the pink skies as the sun begins to set.

He continues.

“You say so, but I don’t think you truly understand. When I thought that I took your life that day, like a dumb fucking idiot, I was prepared to rid this world of my presence completely. I know I’ve screwed up in the past, but I couldn’t screw up this.” Satoru gestures his hand back and forth between your space on the couch. “If I did, and I almost, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Things would have turned dangerous quickly.” The frown he bares hurts your soul completely.

“But we’re okay, Satoru,” trying your best to reassure him, now it was your turn to place your hand on him. Without much thought, your hand found its way to his thigh, gently rubbing the area with your palm. You felt his quad flex slightly at the touch.

Your hand is soon taken away to be held by both of his own, bringing them to his chin as well. His lower lip grazes the skin of your knuckles, sending a rosy flush to your cheeks. He pauses again, obviously finding it difficult to communicate his thoughts.

“Satoru, please,” your tone is soft, encouraging, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

What happens next feels like a whirlwind. One moment, you're sitting across the couch from Satoru, hand against his chin. Next, you are pinned underneath him with your head on the armrest, both his hands planted on either side of your face to hold himself up. Your legs are spread, the cold air touching the warmth of your panties under your skirt. His knee is in between them, pressing against the flesh of your inner thighs. Looking up, obvious shock sketched on your face, you meet his eyes.

Even in the shadow underneath his white hair, they shine with intensity. In the pools of blue, you can see that he is yearning.

You don’t try to move, you don’t protest his advancements. The closer he is to you, the more content you feel. Slowly, he brings his head down to yours, his forehead resting against your own. His breath is warm, smelling of sweet mint. With a lick of his lips, he continues again.

“I thought that you being alive was enough for me. That I could watch you go on, and just merely being in your presence, able to help when you needed me, would satiate my feelings for you.” You can feel the intensity vibrating off of his form. Satoru looks like a man who has starved for days finding his first meal. Is it terrifying? Yes. Do you love it? Yes. You can’t help the playful smirk that dances on your lips.

You don't know if you are going to regret the angle you are about to take.

“Then what happened, baby,” you purr, eyes challenging his own with a flash of pure lust. His eyes widen in what you can imagine is excitement.

“What happened?” Satoru chuckles, darkly, “What happened is I realized that I cannot go on if you are not mine.”

Satoru’s lips crash into yours with ferocity. Although somewhat aggressive in his movements, his actual contact with you is soft and sensual. His kisses are unleashing his secrets, one’s that seem hard to keep. Parting your mouth slightly, you push your tongue forward to invite him in. Your tongues begin to dance slowly, mixing each other's spit to create a lustful potion.

One of his hands comes down from the couch to under your shirt, tightly gripping your ribcage. Your hands come up to wrap around the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the short, velvety hair of his undercut. Satoru allows himself to come down slightly, resting his hips over your own. The corners of your lips turn up slightly at the feeling of the hard bulge in his pants against your core. A small moan escapes his lips at the contact. His body was reacting this way because of you.

How fun.

You take it upon yourself to start undressing Satoru. You start by unpinning his uniform jacket, opening it and pushing it off his shoulders. Bringing your hands down under his white cotton shirt, you take a moment to press your fingers into his hip bones, then you slowly lift up the fabric. Satoru, in compliance, sits up and lets you lift his shirt over his head and up his arms. Shirtless in front of you, you can’t help but admire his long torso. He is lean, but strong. You notice one long scar that starts where his shoulder meets his neck and ends around his belly button.

Around his neck, there is a thin silver chain with a small pendant at the end. Instinctively, you take it between your fingers and notice that it is a small raw amethyst crystal. Hm, the crystal for the sign of Aquarius, I wonder-

Oh.

Your eyes move up to meet Satoru’s, and you give him a knowing look. The small smile he gives to you hurts your heart, as you can sense the obvious pain behind his eyes. He removes your hand from his necklace and lays it on his chest where his heart is. You know that this is his way of telling you that he is okay.

Your breathing hitches in your throat as his hands come down to the top of your blue work vest. He quickly unbuttons the three buttons holding it together, opening it up, then grabs the bottom hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head, exposing your bra to him.

Satoru comes down to gently nip at the squishy flesh of your upper breast spilling over. You hear him deeply inhale your scent, a small hum in satisfaction leaving his mouth. He quickly grabs the lace of your bra, tugging it down so your nipple is exposed to him. Trailing his warm tongue down the side of your breast, he latches on to your bud, giving it a small suck.

The first gasp of the night leaves you, your legs tightening around his midsection in response to the stimulation. Satoru grabs both of your breasts in his hands, kneading them together while continuing his ministrations. You let your hand trail down his abs, passing under his waistband to find what you’re so desperately looking for.

You make contact with the hard tip of Satoru’s cock, a bit of pre smearing across your fingers. You let your hand trail down further, wrapping your hand around the base of his length, giving it a small squeeze. Satoru lets go of your nipple with a pop, letting out a strained hiss at your touch. His hips instinctively buckle forward, causing your hand to stroke towards him.

“Fuuuuck, baby,” he swears, tightening his grip around your chest. Not without protest, he shifts off of you, your grip coming back out of his pants. You give him a small pout, one he finds adorably sexy.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, but not yet,” he coos, cradling one hand in your hair, “I want to taste you first.”

Without hesitation, he quickly finds the zipper of your skirt, hidden in a fold on the side. In one quick swoop, your skirt and panties are off your body, down your legs and discarded to the floor. You are completely exposed to Satoru, now wearing nothing but your bra pulled off your breasts and your stockings. Kneeling on the couch in between your legs, you watch as he stares at your dripping cunt, a blush quickly forming on his cheeks. Now, you know Satoru is not the type to be bashful.

“What is it, Satoru?” you ask, shaky concern in your voice. Was something wrong?

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he stares at your pussy in awe, his tongue slowly coming out to lick his lips.

You look down at yourself and your eyes go wide. Oh my god, I forgot.

Your hands come up to cover your face, your cheeks now burning hot. Of course this would be the case, of fucking course.

“I forgot,” you confess, barely a whisper, “my wax girl was always encouraging me to try something new. So when I went last week, I decided to go for it,” you gulp, “she told me all the different designs she could do for a landing strip, and I thought the heart one was the cutest.” You slowly begin closing your legs in sheer embarrassment, but Satoru quickly stops you, grabbing you by your knees and spreading you apart like a book.

If it was possible to Olympic-dive into a pussy, that was what Satoru just did.

Satoru Gojo is sloppy. He is messy. Going straight for your hole, he snakes his tongue in as far as it can go, lapping out your juices and spreading them all over yourself. Wrapping his arm underneath your thigh, he brings it around to the top of your pussy to grab your mound, lightly pulling it back so that your clit is jetting out of your folds. Once satisfied with your wetness, he wraps his lips around your bundle of nerves, sucking rhythmically and flicking it smoothly with his tongue. Satoru’s other hand makes its way underneath him, coming out from under his chin to insert two digits into your heat. Once he finds the rough patch at the top, he makes a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers. Your loud moans escape from you relentlessly. If this was a video game, Satoru Gojo knows all the lethal combos.

You can feel the coil in your stomach tighten. Oh my god, you had no idea someone could make you cum this fast. Of course, Satoru Gojo is good at eating pussy, of course he is.

Hands coming down to grip his soft, white locks, you tilt your head back in pleasure. Satoru in between your legs feels natural – it feels right.

“Satoru! Oh-” you cry.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he says into your folds, not stopping the work he's doing to make you snap, “you going to cum, princess?”

“Yes! Satoru-” words escape you as you reach your limit. Cunt pulsing around his fingers, you fully give yourself to your release, crying out in pleasure as your juices spill over. Satoru grinds his hips into the cushions as your cum drips out of you, moaning himself, he makes sure to savor every last drop, scooping some out with his fingers and sucking them clean. His cock is throbbing in the confines of his slacks, begging to be inserted into your pretty folds.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Satoru comes up from in between you, mouth and chin glistening with your juices. His face is flushed, hair in disarray from your grasp, chest heaving as he breathes in air after suffocating himself inside you. You feel yourself pulse again at the sight of him. He looks like an animal, and it sets off something primal inside you.

Sitting up from your position, not knowing exactly what is coming over you, you grab Satoru by his neck and guide him to a sitting position on the couch. Once he’s seated, eyes wide in shock, you swing your leg over his lap and straddle him, hand still remaining around his throat. His hands come up instinctively to wrap around your waist. His mouth is slightly agape, looking up at you with lust and, maybe, a little bit of fear.

At this moment, you don't give a damn if you look crazy. You need him.

“Satoru Gojo,” you begin, your voice laced with arousal, “I am going to fuck you so well, you’re going to go blind.”

All he can do in response is nod. Dipping your head, you bring your mouth to the crook of his neck, sucking and nibbling at his skin there. He moans, tilting his head away to let you explore further. Taking your hand off his neck, you work to open and unzip his slacks. Tugging at the waistbands of his slacks and boxer briefs, he lifts up his hips so you can pull them down to his thighs. You look down to watch as his cock slides downwards, caught in the band until you bring them down far enough for it to snap upward and smack his abdomen, Satoru letting out a pained hiss as it does. His member is long and thick with a pretty-pink tip. It’s quite beautiful, really.

You look up again to meet Satoru’s eyes with a devilish grin. You can’t fucking wait to feel his member inside you. With a couple of long, drawn-out pumps down his length, he tilts his head back over the couch to let out a long moan. It’s music to your ears. Bringing your hand to your cunt, you gather some of your juices and coat your fingers. Wrapping your hand around him again, you pump harder and faster this time, gliding with ease when adding your slick. Satoru can only grip harder into your sides.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me, baby,” he gasps, “please, sit down on my cock. I don’t know how much more I can take.” He brings his head forward again to rest on your chest, and you take the opportunity to kiss the back of his neck.

“Okay, okay, baby,” you comply, taking the fat tip of his cock and positioning your entrance on top of it. Satoru quickly looks up again, wanting to watch your expression as you take him in. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, letting his tip enter the first ring of muscle. You can't help but let out a moan, bring your hands to Satoru’s shoulders for support.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Satoru coos, “take as much time as you need baby,” rubbing his hands in circles across your hips, he brings his mouth up to yours and slips his tongue in, to which you suck sensually. You can taste yourself on him, and it turns you on.

You lower yourself a bit further now that you have adjusted, and it feels euphoric. Although you know it’s probably best to wait a bit more, you can’t help but push yourself to the limit to fully feel all of him. You need him. Gradually, in one continuous movement, you take him to the hilt. Not breaking away from his kiss, you wrap your arms around his head and completely relax yourself. Satoru’s tip was resting on your cervix, and you decided to start off with a couple pulses for good measure.

Once he realized what was happening, he broke free from your lips and gasped, “Oh, you naughty girl. You could just do that and you would milk me for all that I have.”

“Another time,” you smirk and lift yourself about halfway up his shaft to then quickly slam yourself back down again. Satoru cries out, thighs flexing in response. “I want all of you.”

“Yes,” he cries out, “you have me, baby. You have me now. Forever.” Bringing his hand down to your heat, his fingers swirl around your clit. You let out a gasp as he takes your juices and brings it to your nipple, covering it with your slick. Satoru then leans down and sucks on it ferociously.

“Oooo, yes, baby, yes, I love that,” you moan out, allowing yourself to start riding him fully. “You have all of me too, baby. Forever.” You quickly find a good pace, the sounds of your bodies slapping together sends you into overdrive. You can hear your pussy squelching over his cock, making you more aroused at the lewd noise. Satoru’s hands have found their way to the plush underside of your ass, helping support your weight as you move up and down on him.

With his member pounding your cervix, his mouth working wonders on your breast, and his hands spreading you apart, you can't help but feel yourself starting to tense up, coil threatening to snap. Satoru recognizes this, feeling the familiar sensation of your pussy clenching much like it did around his fingers. He can feel himself starting to let go, but forces himself to hold it together long enough for you to explode.

And that's exactly what you do. Holding him closely and shutting your eyes, your movements turn sloppy as you ride him to your release.

“Satoru, Satoru, Satoru, yes, Satoru…” Crying out his name, you let go completely, giving yourself over to him.

Satoru moans out as well, and you swear you feel him twitch inside you, but nothing spills over. Opening your eyes and looking down towards him, you can see that he’s fighting to keep it together.

“Satoru-” you begin to question, but let out a yelp as he lifts you off of him effortlessly. The world spins, and you find yourself thrown over the armrest of the couch, head dipping towards the floor with your ass up in the air. Not more than two seconds pass before he’s grabbed you by the waist and is slamming into you from behind.

“Ah!” you scream, tone somewhere between shock and pleasure, “Satoru!”

“Sorry baby,” he apologizes, but you can tell he's grinning from ear to ear, “but it’s my turn to fuck you.”

Satoru begins to pound into you without restraint. You can tell that he has one goal: to cum hard and fast. You’re obsessed with the way he lets his inhibitions go, knowing he can only be this vulnerable with you.

“Fuck, I-” he chokes out, “I- I love your smile. I love your eyes. I love your body. I love the way that you feel around me. I love your voice when you cry out my name. I love how-” his voice breaks again. You can tell that he’s reached his peak.

“I love you, god, I love you,” Satoru grabs you by your shoulders, lifting you up to him so your back is now to his chest. His arms wrap around you, engulfing you in a tight embrace and burying his face into your neck. His thrusts were not letting up, but they were getting sloppier.

“I love you too, Satoru,” your heart swells, “You know I’ve loved you for a long time, baby.” You can feel tears brimming in your eyes and you quickly grab onto his forearms, craving more of his touch. You feel him nod into your neck. He knew, he always knew.

“You wanna cum baby? You wanna cum inside my pussy?” you coo at him. “Give it all to me, I want to feel you fill me up so good.”

You felt Satoru tense for one last time. Slowing down slightly, he pauses every time he hits your wall. Bringing one of his hands down to your lower stomach, he presses into you to feel the sensation of him inside you. With one last thrust, he’s spilling over, and you can feel thick ropes of his seed coat your insides. If you felt full before, you were even fuller now.

Satoru came, but he didn't want to leave just yet. Very carefully, with him still inside you, he picks you up to bring you to spoon him on the couch.

You laid there for a while, just enjoying the feeling of each other while you drifted in and out of sleep. While watching you intently and grazing the outside of your arm with his fingertips, Satoru decided then and there that he would formally ask you to be his girlfriend tomorrow, although he already wanted to call you his wife. He never thought he would allow himself to see a future with you, never thought he could forgive himself for putting you in danger. But now that he has made that step, there’s so many possibilities. All he knows is that he never wants to do anything without your support and love, and he will do anything to protect you. No one was going to take him away from you. He loves you, in every sense of the way.

“Satoru?” you call out to him, still in a sleepy state.

“Yes, my love?”

“You wanna sleep over at my place tonight?” You ask, a little shyly.

Satoru chuckles softly, “Of course, baby.” You feel him smile, hand coming up to pinch your earlobe.

The sensation sent you back in time. A time where you witnessed Satoru Gojo pleading for your future everyday at your bedside. You know now that he was pleading for something more – a future with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Aye! Let me know what you think! <3

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #satoru smut

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persephonesbody · 4 months

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the weekend: part ii, elliot x reader

୨୧ the weekend masterlist synopsis: in which he's in a relationship but still has you wrapped around his finger... but only on the weekend warning(s): infidelity/cheating, angst, arguing, lying, nate jacobs, manipulation, gaslighting, public humiliation, rough handling, bitchy!reader (?), canon relationship, probs more but i can't think of them rn author's note: will be writing a third part to this because i finally have an idea of where i want to take the plot. unedited. happy new year! enjoy :)) wc: 1.1k

“Elliot, stop. I’m not joking.”

He caressed the dip in your back softly and ran down the sides of your body, trailing down to your thighs. Your breath hitched and your fingers quickly clawed at his hands and your eyes struggled to convey how serious you were.

“Lighten up, babydoll,” his smooth voice laced your eardrums. You tried your hardest to fight temptation once again and failed miserably.

His fingers were now pulling on the material of your underwear. He continued to tease and tug until you firmly grabbed her hand and yanked it from your lower half, “I’m not having sex with you. Not here. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Your tone caught his attention. He gently removed his hand from your grip and cupped your face. And with a grin on his face, he said, “Stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m not lying. I’m done with you. For good,” you strongly declared.

A faint chuckle left his lips and he shook his head. You thanked God that the music was blaring as loud as it was because if not, you would’ve been able to hear a pin drop. The atmosphere in the bathroom was still. You both sat on opposite sides, against the sink and him near the shower.

It was like that for about two minutes before he breezed past you and left you in the bathroom. Alone with your dress riding up your thigh, the lip gloss on your lips completely smudged off.

It was taking everything in you not to choke up and bawl right here, right now. In one of the many bathrooms in this huge mansion. At someone's party who you didn't even know.

After pulling yourself together and finishing what was left in your red cup, you braced yourself and left the bathroom. You pushed your way through the crowd and into the kitchen to make yourself another drink.

Spotting a half-full glass of tequila, you grabbed it and poured its contents into your cup. Before you could chug it, you were stopped by the sound of a man’s voice.

“You’re gonna down all that with no chaser?”

You furrowed your eyebrows and directed your eyes to whoever the voice belonged to. As soon as you met his eyes, yours rolled so hard with annoyance and fixed on walking away, “I don’t have the energy for this,” you cursed under your breath

“Oh come on, Y/N. Did you join the Nate Jacobs Hate Club too?” He playfully questioned with a faux pout on his face, “Let me make you a drink.”

He’s drunk. As fuck.

“No thank you.” You respond swiftly with a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh, come on, Y/N, lighten up.”

It was as if you’d heard the last two words that Nate spoke in an echo. Your mind taking you back to just a few moments ago in that bathroom.

“I’ve had my fair share of asshole interaction for the night, so I’ll repeat once again: No thank you.” You thought that that would be the end of this confrontation when you turned around, but you felt his hand grip the top of your arm, a little too roughly causing you to wince loudly.

You looked at him as if he had five heads and tried yanking your arm out of his hand, “Are you fucking crazy?” you harshly spat.

It seemed as if no one around you wanted to help or even cared about what was happening. Everyone continued their social activities over the loud music while the skin underneath Nate’s fingertips squeezed under tense pressure.

“I wasn’t asking,” He uttered through his gritted teeth. He yanked your arm and dragged you along out of the kitchen and outside, “Come on outside, I have a real treat for you.”

You begin to scream at him, ordering him to release you and let you go. Nate didn’t answer, just led you outside and shoved you toward the lawn. You stumbled, catching your balance and fully ready to take off on him, and just when you were about to punch him square in the nose, your eyes caught his.

Elliot stood there right next to her, who stood next to Maddy, Kat, Cassie, and Rue. They all stared at you in complete disgust.

“Is it true, Y/N?” Jules asked softly, “Did you try to hit on Elliot?” her eyes teary and burning into yours awaiting an honest answer.

Your heart sank and confusion plagued your demeanor, “W-wha–”

“He told us everything,” Rue stepped forward.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abou–”

“You tried to fuck him. Just now, in the bathroom.” Maddy blurted out, “Did you think she wouldn’t find out?” She gestured at Jules,

You could not believe what you were hearing right now.

You glanced at Maddy, then Cassie, Rue… Jules… and lastly Elliot. The smirk on his face was indescribable, almost like he was taunting you for finally deciding to end things. That's why he was so silent. That why he had that stupid fucking grin plastered on his face.

He took the one thing that you didn’t want to happen and used it against you. And now your secret was out, and Elliot was the puppet master. But you weren’t going to let him win. You weren’t backing down without a fight.

“First off, I didn’t try to do anything. I did. Multiple times. And, by the way, Elliot came onto me. Not the other way around.” you clarified, looking specifically at Jules, “I’m also sure that after this party he’ll try to call and plead his case after attempting to throw me under the bus over a ‘relationship’ that he initiated.”

“You’re disgusting.” Kat blurted out.

All eyes outside were now on you and the dramatic scene taking place at the moment.

You cut your eyes at Elliot and his were already on you. Staring into your soul with that stupid grin. It was at this moment you realized that nothing that you were saying was making the situation better. Because no matter how you looked at it, you and Elliot were always in the wrong.

You and Elliot, yet here you were. Taking the fall for it all because he was bitter about you trying to break it off.

This is so fucked.

“Fuck all of you.” You choked out, your throat burning from the sobs you were holding back. Tears brimmed at the tips of your eyelids and you knew that it was time to leave to save yourself from more dramatics.

With that, you trudged off the lawn, leaving all of them with your words and nothing else.

#elliot x reader #elliot x y/n #elliot x you #euphoria imagines #dominic fike #elliot euphoria #black reader #elliot x black reader #euphoria #dominic fike smut #the weekend | elliot x reader

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moralesluvr · 11 months

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JUST YOU AND ME | MORALES ❥

♡ pairings & aus: miles morales x fem!afrolatina!reader ♡ summary: miles is late to your date again, even after you've called numerous times. is his excuse really a good one, or have you had enough? ♡ warnings: miles being secretive, reader being all sad, a little angst with a happy ending! ♡ a/n: first miles fic! lmk how you like it! ♡ got a request? | masterlist in the works! ♡

YOU LOOKED IN the mirror with piercing eyes, judgingly nitpicking your third outfit choice of the night. Your arms fell by your sides in defeat, a freshly manicured thumb slipping into the waistband of your onyx Dior skirt. Although you were sure you could’ve found a better outfit, time was plotting against you, Twirling on your heel, you examine your final choice of outfit before your lips curl into a merely satisfied knot, “It’ll do.”

Strutting over to your closet, you quickly grab a pair of knee-tall, heeled boots, along with your leather jacket and a silver bag. Anxiety courses through your veins when your reminder goes off on your phone, Siri’s monotone voice reading aloud- “Date with Miles, 6:30 pm.”

A string of curses tumble off your lips as you hurriedly sat on the half-deflated bean bag chair that was tossed in the corner of your room for a reason. You unzipped your boots, slipping them on quickly before requesting that Siri call your boyfriend while you tried to scavenge for your keys.

“Calling ‘Mi corazón.’” Siri announced, the poorly spoken Spanish filling your ears. You chuckled as the phone rang, nimble fingers wrapping around your car keys and the keychain that Miles got for you. It was a picture of you two hugging in black in white, the back reading, “I love you.”

“Hello?” You heard your lover groggily mumble from the other side of your room.

“Hey baby!” You shouted from afar, slipping your bag onto your shoulders, “You about ready to go? You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

You heard Miles grumble, accompanied with shuffling of sheets, “Uh, no, no- of course not, mi amor. Me levantaré, lo prometo.”

“I BELIEVE YOU, BUT MILES, PLEASE DON’T BE LATE.” You whispered, mouth moving only scarcely as your top row of teeth sank into your bottom lip. You walk over to your nightstand and scoop your phone up, holding it up your ear, “Please. This is our fifth rescheduled date.”

“I know, I know,” Miles murmurs, “Lo siento, mami- I’ll be there. I promise.”

“Oh? You promise? I better see you in thirty, then.” You almost chuckle, but the seriousness strained in your voice overpowered the comedic aspect of your statement. You blew a kiss into the phone, “Te amo. Leaving now.”

“Te amo tambien.” Miles says, the line going dead.

You stuff your phone into your purse and head for your front door, calling out to whomever was home that you were going out and should be back before ten. You shut the door behind you, stepping out into the spring sun, its bright aura soaking every inch of your skin. You smile, walking over to your car and getting inside.

You slam your car door shut, waltzing over to the fancy restaurant that awaited before you. The lights inside were dimmed with elegance, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that shone brightly atop minimalistically decorated tables. You opened the door to the place as two women dressed in all black greeted you with bright smiles and preppy ‘Hello!’s.

“Hi, I have a reservation tonight for two at 7:00?”

The blonde out of the two checks her iPad, nodding when she sees your reservation, “Y/N, correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Right. Follow me, please!”

You stay close behind the girl as she leads you to your table. She gestures for you to sit, “Here you are. My name is Mimi if you need anything, I’ll be back to take your order when the other person gets here. Enjoy!”

You smile at her as you sit down, “Thank you so much.”

She disappears into the darkness behind the restaurant while you wait idly, fingers tapping against the soft material of the table’s cloth. The clock on the wall reads 6:47, meaning that Miles has exactly thirteen minutes before he’s officially late. Or, right on time.

Minutes pass, each second feeling like half of an eternity. You reach for your purse that rests on your chair, your fingers wrapping around your phone. You fish it out and click on Miles’ contact, bringing the device up to your ear.

You expect him to answer, to be on the other side of the phone, to ask where you were sitting because he was already there. Ready to make it up to you.

But instead, his voicemail rang through your ears. You were worried at this point– what else could he possibly be doing?

You click on the messaging app, eyelashes batting in an attempt to blink away the tears that were brimming in the underskirts of your eyes.

[you] to mi corazón: hey where are you? [you] to mi corazón: miles? [you] to mi corazón: it’s like 7:10. are you in traffic or sum? lmk read.

Your jaw swung open when you saw that he left you on read. Was he mad at you? Was it a family emergency? Why was he blowing you off?

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into an hour. You waited up for him in hopes that he would walk through those doors dressed up, flowers in hand, telling you why he was late for your date that he promised he wouldn’t be late to or miss.

But that never happened.

You had already eaten and paid by the time the clock hit half past eight. You rose out of your seat and bid the friendly waitresses adieu, slipping a twenty onto the front counter on your way out.

Your heart was breaking in your chest. This was now the sixth time that Miles had blown you off on a date, and you were fed up with the apologies that had no meaning or a valid excuse. On the way home, all your happy memories with your boyfriend flashed before your eyes. All the times he held you, comforted you, kissed you. Did all those things even matter now? Clearly not.

When you unlocked the door, your mother was propped up on a chair at the island, glasses on the tip of her nose as she read. Her eyes drifted to your sad ones as you walked in.

“¿Estás bien mija?” She cocked her head to the side, “Where’s Miles?”

Sighing, you sunk into the velvety cushions of your couch, “I don’t know, mama, he blew me off again.”

“Ese niño…I’m sorry, mija.”

You give her a downturned smile as you rise to your feet, “It’s okay, really, I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

Your mother starts to say something, but you’re already halfway up the stairs before she can even get the first word out. You slam your door shut and the tears immediately fall, warming your cheeks.

Throwing your bag onto your bed, you unzip your boots with a sniffle, tossing them onto your oh-so-useless beanbag. You slip out of your jacket and throw that on top of the boots, plopping onto your bed.

You felt hopeless.

You curled up into a ball for what seemed like hours on end, scrolling through social media mindlessly in an attempt to distract you from today’s earlier events, although all you could think about was Miles.

You slipped underneath your throw blanket and closed your eyes before you heard two familiar voices sounding from your living room.

“...ten cuidado mijo. Creo que está molesta, pero yo también lo estaría.”

“Yo entiendo. ¿Puedo ir a verla?”

You perked up when you heard your boyfriend’s voice. Why was he here? It was nearly eleven o'clock.

“Sí, pero si está durmiendo, no la molestes. Ella te quiere, lo sabes. Cuida, por favor.”

The air is thick with silence for a moment before you hear footsteps approach your bedroom door. You curl up into a ball and contemplate whether or not you were going to let your boyfriend in, or pretend to be asleep.

Two soft knocks sound from the other side of your door, “Amor? Hey, it’s me…Miles. Are you asleep? Espero que no…” he mutters the last part.

You sigh, starting for the door sheepishly, your fingers turning the knob as you opened the door.

His eyes immediately met yours. They were a little red, and at first, you didn’t notice the purple bruise forming on the outskirts of his eye. You bring your fingers up to it slowly, and he flinches when you touch him.

“Miles, come here.” You murmured, walking into your bedroom and plopping onto your bed. He follows, shutting the door behind him. He crawls next to you, arms open, ready to engulf you in his embrace– but you just stare at him half-heartedly.

“I know–”

“Explain.” You cut him off, “Now.”

He sighs, “Mami…I know I owe you one. It wasn’t right for me to blow you off, but somethin’ came up and I really couldn’t get out of it. For real.”

Your fingers come up to rub your temples out of stress and annoyance, your lack of patience showing through your blank expression.

“I’m trying to understand, but this isn’t making any sense. No me mientas, por favor. Just tell me the truth and I won’t be mad, swear.” You huffed, waiting on him to give you the truth that you had been waiting for since months ago. All this time being wasted, all these promises coming to the surface as lies, all these–

“I’m Spider-Man.”

The sentence shocks you so bad that you almost throw up. Your eyes stretch into the size of saucers, “You what?”

“I’m..Spider-Man.” Miles repeats. You think it’s a practical joke by the way he just said it so blunt, but something about his demeanor screamed that he was telling the truth. You cock your head to the side, “Dios…you better explain this to me right now!”

Miles nearly whines your name to get you to stop overreacting. You’re nearly fuming, and nervous and confused all at once– so honestly, who could blame you?

“I was bitten by some weird spider when I was painting a while ago. And then basically, I got all these sick spider powers, and that’s why I’m always gone. I’m sorry– I should’ve told you earlier, but I just wanted to protect you, precioso.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. The random disappearances, the bruises and cuts, the not-so-hidden suit that you accidentally found around October. It was Miles’ lucky day, because he said that it was just a “late minute backup costume” for Halloween.

“Oh..I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” You murmured, scooching closer to your boyfriend. You brought your hand up to his eye again, and this time, he didn’t flinch. Your thumb grazed his eyelid, “Stay and hold me? No spider stuff tonight?”

“No spider stuff tonight, cariño.” He wraps his arms tightly around you as you bury your head in his chest, legs intertwined in between his, “Just you and me.”

Your eyelashes bat before you find yourself falling asleep, the last thing you feel being Miles’ lips plant a soft kiss onto your forehead.

my taglist is open if you would like to join it! just send me a message or an ask <3 have a good day!

#spiderman #spiderman into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x black!reader

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lovelyhan · 11 months

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— meet cute of the century (a teaser) ⟢

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest, clumsiest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

★ FEATURING; wonwoo x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1.7k words

★ TAGS; meet cute, strangers to lovers, pining, some angst, smut (though this teaser is completely sfw!)

★ TAGS; mentions of accidents but it's not given much detail

★ NOTES; i'm back with my low quality wonwoo bf pics for my teaser headers hehe i am soooo excited to write the rest for this! honestly didn't think the teaser would end up this long but here we are :3c little heads up that some parts of this teaser could change in the full story, but nothing major plot-wise will be taken out. hope you like it!

this is part of the doting on you! series.

There are a handful of things that a college student can do with their free time. Studying, hanging out with friends, and maybe even picking up a hobby of sorts. You, on the other hand, use up all the hours you’re not spending on your undergrad thesis or sleeping the day away at an animal shelter just a few minutes away from your apartment.

Your friends constantly wonder how you’re still able to maintain a remarkable GPA with a part-time job that’s starting to look full-time, but you just laugh their questions off for the most part—saying that other people have got it worse than you, but can still perform leagues better academically.

You also tell them that most of your motivation comes from all the unadopted animals from the shelter. You started as a volunteer just to kill time on weekends when you’re free, but even if you knew better than to get attached to all those adorable faces, you eventually found yourself on the part-time employee roster anyways.

Now you’re rushing to finish your degree so you can get a neat sugar mommy job that’ll let you afford to adopt everyone that’s been stuck in the shelter for nearly a year or more.

Okay, maybe not everyone because you’re no fool with a savior complex. But just enough to give a few furry friends a new home, right?

“Don’t look now,” your coworker, Mari whispers conspiratorially while you’re in the middle of snacking in the break room, “but that cutie you’ve been crushing on just walked inside. He’s checking out the cats out in the playroom as usual.”

Right. Apart from your altruistic dream of adopting as many animals as your financial capabilities can allow, there’s another reason you’re always looking forward to your shifts at the shelter. A reason that you’re a bit too embarrassed to let your friends know about.

You nearly choke on a potato chip when Mari breaks the news and she immediately laughs in your face. Glaring at her, you compose yourself with a long gulp of water before saying, “I do not have a crush on him.”

“Sure,” she plays along. “If you consider making googly eyes at the guy every time he drops by as ‘not having a crush on him’, then I’ll concur.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, sweetheart. Now get out there and sweet talk him into take one of the kittens home! Pretty sure he wants one if he’s been showing up as much as he did for the last two months.”

While you would’ve argued that the so-called cutie you’ve been crushing on could just like seeing the cats play around in his free time, you don’t really have much energy to play mental gymnastics with Mari. You’ve had a long day of revisions and other nonsense materials you have to submit for your majors, so you’ll let this one slide.

Your workplace is as bleak as every other shelter you’ve seen a few times in your life. Gray walls, concrete floors, and steel cages stacked on top of each other. It looks more like a prison than anything, really, but it’s the staff and those kind-hearted souls who rehome animals that have long been abandoned that give the entire place some life.

While Mister Cutie That You’ve Been Quote-Unquote Crushing On doesn’t exactly fall into either of those categories, you like to think he still leaves the building just a touch colorful once he walks out of the front door.

Speaking of color, he’s wearing a loose, dark green shirt that falls just below his elbows. Cutie—as you’ve deigned to call him not because you think he’s cute but because you’re yet to get his name—has one palm flattened across the viewing glass of the playroom. He’s wearing his usual black face mask today, but from the way his eyes glint behind his glasses, you’re just going to assume he’s having a good time just by watching the cats frolic inside.

“You’re here pretty late,” you state nonchalantly before standing a few feet away from him.

“Is that so strange?” he murmurs with a chuckle, surprisingly not startled with your sudden entrance before glancing your way. “I always show up here at this hour, don’t I?”

God. No matter how many times you hear his voice, you just can’t get over how deep it is. But before any of your thoughts could show on your face, you get talking.

“True. You’ve sparked a debate among the volunteers about your line of work, actually.” Not exactly. You’re not sure if any of the volunteers have even seen this guy, since they mostly work day shifts. “Anyway, are you just here to check ‘em out or am I finally going to hand you the adoption papers?”

His eyes crinkle a bit before he shifts his gaze towards the playroom again. Most of the older cats have already been put back in their respective cages. All that’s left inside are the kittens with way too much energy to spare. The director, A.K.A., your boss, believes that it’s best to tire them out first before settling them into individual enclosures for the night. Keeps the place nice and quiet for the evening shift fellows like yourself.

“Not yet, sadly,” Cutie says with a sigh before pointing at one of the kittens huddled up in a corner. “That one’s new, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve seen him around before.”

“Her,” you correct. “Her name’s Hani. She’s a stray that someone from the university I’m attending brought in last week. It was pretty ugly, actually. Poor thing got into an accident and was bleeding everywhere. Good thing our usual vet was paying a visit when they came here.”

“Oh? That’s a relief then. No wonder she’s got a little limp every time she walks around,” he observes with a saddened tone. “But I digress. You mentioned you were attending university?”

…Okay, why’d the topic of interest suddenly shift to you?

But since it’s a harmless enough question, you reply with, “Yeah. The one that’s just a few blocks away. It’s kinda why the person who found Hani brought her here instead of a vet clinic. The nearest one’s like half an hour away.”

“Good call, good call.” He nods with a look of understanding. “I hope someone comes and adopts her. She deserves all the love she can get. Well, everyone here does of course.”

You flash him a conniving smile, raising your brows a few times. “You could give that to her.”

Cutie shakes his head with another low-pitched laugh. “As much as I’d love to, my…living conditions won’t be suitable for her at all. Or any of the other animals for the matter.”

“Hm?” You stare at him curiously. “Your landlord doesn’t allow pets or something?”

“Mmm… Not exactly.”

The conversation pretty much ends there. Cutie excuses himself—saying that someone is waiting for him at home. You don’t know why your heart deflates a little at the very real possibility that he has a significant other. Then again, if you’re this whipped when you haven’t even seen his face, you could only imagine how easy it would be for him to settle down with someone who has.

Either way, it’s none of your business. And correction: you’re not whipped. Just…hyper aware of his presence every time he stops by.

Despite the fact that you’re dead-set on filing away this strange fascination you have for the guy, however…

“Wait!”

Cutie turns around to face you with an inquisitive look. “Yes?”

You swallow thickly, deciding to just bite the bullet before your nerves get the best of you. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Cu—I mean, Glasses Guy in my head whenever you pay us a visit.”

He blinks for a few seconds, obviously nonplussed by your forwardness but you don’t think your pride can take it anymore if you had to refer to him as—

“You can call me Woo,” he says warmly and you can almost see the smile that stretches behind that black face mask.

Shit. Did your heart just stutter?

“Mister Woo—”

“Just Woo is fine.”

“Okay, Woo,” you start, kind of liking the way that something that’s obviously a nickname rolls off the tongue, “just let me know if you ever want to take Hani home. We’re open twenty four-seven, as you already know.”

He nods. “Sure thing. Is it okay if I can get your number for that?”

Now you have to fight the urge to scowl at him after he’s been so nice to you all night—and every other night he’s dropped by.

This guy isn’t flirting with you. He said it himself—someone’s waiting for him at home! Plus, he’s expressed consistent interest in adopting a kitten for himself a handful of times before. Maybe he just connected with Hani on a level that’s above the others. Enough to ask for your number since the possibility of him bringing one of these angels home is becoming more and more real.

Yeah, that’s definitely the reason!

So you give it to him—hastily scrawled behind an old flier gathering dust in one of the drawers on the front desk. It’s way too big to write just yours and the shelter’s contact details on, but the other calling cards are nowhere in sight. You’ll have to ask Mari if she’s seen them once—

“Thanks. I’ll keep in touch,” Woo tells you while folding the sheet of paper into a sleek black Louis Vuitton wallet.

Wait a minute.

Before you can even seriously ponder about what job he’s got to be able to afford that, Woo is already out of the door—heading into the evening streets without once looking back.

“Gosh, I swear that guy’s an idol in disguise or something.”

That’s the first thing that Mari tells you when you find her doing a few rounds among the sleeping dogs in the far back. You haven’t even spoken a single word about your most recent exchange.

“What makes you think that?”

“He just exudes idol vibes, y’know? Shows up here when the place is deserted. Always acts subtle and inconspicuous. Oh and not to mention how hot he looks even with a face mask on! He could be that one idol your little sister is crazy about.”

You roll your eyes at her odd ways of deduction. “Mari, I’ve seen enough of Haewon’s Mingyu merch to last a lifetime and Woo definitely does not look like him.”

“Oh?” Your coworker perks up with a mischievous smile. “You finally got his name, huh?”

God. This is going to be a long shift.

want to be included in the taglist? send me an ask!

#svthub #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan

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hard-core-super-star · 7 months

Note

Hiya, may I request something for Kate bishop.

(Peter could be rs cousin or something.) Reader (who is spiderwoman and dating Kate), Kate and Yelena help Peter Parker (T. Holland) with the villains from the other earth's and as a result green goblin ends up killing aunt May and she seeks out revenge for may and almost kills green goblin but Yelena and kate stop her. (Oh, and Peter is the only one who is forgotten)

no such thing as good grief [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x parker!reader

summary: you always knew being a superhero came with a long list of dangers but it turns out you weren't quite ready to deal with someone else suffering for your mistakes.

warnings: major character death; heavy mentions of blood + injuries + grief; a huge serving of angst with a side of hurt/comfort, a dash of humor, and a sprinkle of plot; weird descriptions of fight scenes

wordcount: 3.2k

a/n: i probably should have rewatched no way home for this but shhh. any inconsistencies are just part of this other timeline because i said so and the MCU timeline is incredibly messy anyway. i very clearly got way too attached and wrote way too much but whoops, hope you enjoy <3 [also yes, may is R's mom in this but somewhere along the way, i resorted to just calling her 'may' instead 'mom' because I didn't want it to get too repetitive]

* * * * * * *

Nobody ever said being an Avenger was easy.

Especially now that most members are either dead, retired, off-world, or just simply unreachable. Nobody wanted to address the fact that the safety of planet Earth now rests solely in the hands of a bunch of college students and a Russian ex-assassin.

Of course, there’s still Dr. Strange and his merry band of sorcerers, including Wong, but it seems the only thing that man can successfully protect is his massive ego. It’s harsh, sure, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Although, maybe you’re just bitter that Stephen’s soft spot for your cousin ultimately got you tangled in a mess you had no business being in.

A crack in the multiverse is bad enough but it being caused by one of Stephen's failed spells is even worse.

And of course, Peter's seniority when it comes to being part of a superpowered team means when he calls, you answer. There’s also the fact that he’s family and your mom would absolutely lecture you if you ignored him…again.

You really wanted to sit this one out but there was no way your girlfriend was going to let you. You tried all the tricks you knew to convince her but ultimately, her and Yelena ended up dragging you out of your apartment to help Peter fix his multiversal disaster.

“So, your plan to defeat these villains is to…not defeat them?” You question. “In what universe does that make sense?”

“Don’t be a jerk, y/n/n,” Kate mumbles.

You playfully roll your eyes at the archer’s words, biting back a comment about how rare it is to see her actually attempting to focus on forming a plan. She’s gotten a lot better at not rushing into situations but old habits die hard.

“Actually, it’s May’s plan,” Peter says. “I know it’s unconventional but I think it could work. We’re the good guys, right?”

Yelena shoots you a look but you just shrug in response. Fighting with him will only lead to more problems that you’re not sure you’re qualified to solve. Actually, none of you are qualified for any of this.

Webs, arrows, and strong punches are not going to get you out of this one.

You swallow down your hesitation and give Peter a small nod. “Right. What do you need us to do?”

Step 1, according to your annoying Spider-Cousin, is to pick up a few materials for him while he takes the misplaced villains to Happy’s condo. You don’t love the idea of being an errand girl but you already agreed to help and there’s no way Kate will let you take your words back.

Her loyalty is as admirable as it is annoying. But at least you get to spend time driving around New York with your two favorite people. And by driving you really mean sitting in the backseat with Kate while Yelena complains about how much harder it is to drive a car than a motorcycle.

Step 1 takes about an hour to complete and it’s not until you’re all heading to Happy’s place that your girlfriend decides to question you and your lack of trust in Peter’s plan.

“Since when are you so cynical?” She asks, her arm loosely wrapped around your waist.

“Me?” The question catches you off-guard and you turn your face away from the car window to look at her instead. “I'm not the one shooting arrows through people’s limbs.”

“It’s not like I’m killing people.”

“Neither am I,” you reply with a shrug. “I'm just saying to send them back to their universe.”

“So they can die,” she says, her tone making her statement sound more like a question than anything else.

“Well…yeah.”

It sounds brutal when said out loud but it’s the logical choice. Keeping them in your universe isn’t an option and there’s no telling what kind of damage Peter’s plan will have on those other timelines.

“And you don’t think that’s cruel?”

“Should I?” You look away from Kate’s eyes before you get distracted from the conversation at hand due to the puppy-dog look they’ve been carrying the past few minutes. “Yelena, you wanna help me out here?”

“You’re gonna get the heartless Russian assassin to help you prove your point?” She asks with a chuckle.

“Ex-assasin,” the blonde corrects her. “And I am not heartless. But y/n is right. What is that stupid saying? Something about a circus?”

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so if you’re so against this plan why did you agree to it?” Kate finally asks the million-dollar question.

The answer is a lot more complicated than one would think and you’re not in the mood to explain why the plan being your mom’s idea means so much to you. So, you take a page out of the archer’s book and reply with a stupid joke instead.

“You think May would have been fine with me letting Peter run around on his own?”

Yelena’s reply is just as witty as yours. “I am only here because someone has to babysit you while y/n babysits Spider-Boy.”

“You guys are jerks.” There are notes of humor in her voice that she tries to wipe away with an overdramatic pout.

You chuckle and lean in to kiss her, ignoring Yelena’s complaints about how annoyingly in love you two are.

The moment is a welcome respite from a chaotic and difficult situation.

A situation that only gets worse with every minute that goes by.

The three of you finally arrive at Happy’s condo and are led inside by your overly chipper cousin. You try to ignore the way the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the mere sight of the supervillains scattered all around the living room.

You’re probably just being paranoid. That’s what you tell yourself until Peter lets it slip that he’s not the only person watching over the time-scattered villains.

You grab a hold of his arm and lead him away from Kate and Yelena, more for his sake than yours if you’re being honest. “What do you mean my mom is here? Why the hell would you bring her into this mess?

“I didn’t do anything!” He responds. “She wanted to help. You know how she is.”

If you had a nickel every time he used that excuse you’d be as rich as your girlfriend.

“This is different, Pete! It’s not just her bringing us snacks while we fix our web shooters, this is serious.”

“Which is exactly why she should be here. We need all the help we can get to do this. You have no problem with Kate being here, why is May different?”

It takes you a second to be able to reply, your brain not fully computing his audacity to make such a flippant comparison. “Because she’s not a superhero, you dimwit! She’s the only family I have left, I am not letting her get hurt because you convinced her to help us.”

“First of all, ouch. Second of all, relax. She can take care of herself.”

All you can really do is groan since it’s obvious no amount of arguing will get him to change his mind and help you convince May to go home. There’s also the fact that she probably wouldn’t listen to you even if you managed to get Peter on your side.

“Fine. Just tell me what to do so we can wrap up this shitshow.”

You ignore his very obvious sigh of relief and focus on lending the helping hand you promised earlier. Help that makes you ignore your growing unease and leaves you unprepared for the violent turn things take.

You’re not even sure how it happens.

One second you and Kate are arguing about how Sandman’s powers even work while Yelena and May help administer Dr. Ock’s cure and the next you’re watching Green Goblin turn the rest of the misplaced villains against all of you.

Your one and only thought is on getting your mom out of here unscathed but it quickly becomes clear you won’t be able to just swing her to safety. There’s no plan, or even time to think things through, there’s only a tense atmosphere and an inkling that things won’t go well no matter what you do.

Green Goblin’s taunts ring in your ears right as Electro blasts Dr. Ock out the window. Kate shoots you a look you can’t ignore and you hold on to the silent promise that she’ll be okay without you.

You dive out the window without a second thought, barely managing to shed your hoodie and reveal the Spider Suit hidden beneath your clothes. (Peter can keep all his fancy little upgrades, nothing beats the classic suit in your opinion)

You manage to help Dr. Ock before he slams into the ground with equal parts teamwork and a staggering amount of webs.

He assures you he’s fine once you manage to get onto a nearby roof, not so subtly doing his best to get rid of a few webs that are stuck to his clothes. You shoot him an apologetic smile before jumping off the roof and swinging back to the now blacked-out building.

You ignore the swarm of cop cars and news vans that litter the front of the building and impulsively divide to crash through a window into the lobby, figuring it’ll be faster to find May and your team this way.

You jump onto your feet after your literal crash landing only to find Kate and Peter in the middle of fighting Green Goblin. A part of you screams to run and find your mom but then Osborn kicks Kate’s bow out of her hand and your body reacts faster than your mind can even comprehend.

“Hey, asshole!” You shoot a web at his leg and yank him backward. “Get your hands off of her.”

He stumbles but doesn’t fall the way you anticipated. Instead, he turns to look at you, that chilling smirk still plastered on his face. “What is it with you Parkers and your savior complex?”

Your first instinct is to run at him but you catch the archer’s look as she runs to help a badly injured Peter. If it’s a distraction she needs, that’s exactly what you’ll provide.

“It’s part of our charming personality.”

You shrug and shoot at him again, managing to pull his focus toward the barrage of webs you send his way.

You expect to keep him occupied until Peter and Kate catch their breath but instead, May rushes out of the stairway, a bleeding Yelena trailing behind her, and she injects the so-called cure into the back of Osborn’s neck.

The cure doesn’t work. All it does is send the Green Goblin into a fit of rage.

You urge May to run in between Osborn’s taunts directed mainly at you and Peter. She doesn’t listen and you’re too distracted to notice the deadly glider that hovers just outside the window.

By the time Kate warns you it’s too late.

The blast it creates when it crashes in sends you flying onto the ground. All the air gets knocked out of your lungs from the impact but you don’t get time to lay there and recover.

You somehow manage to get back onto your feet right as Osborn sends a bomb flying your way. You just barely manage to web it and throw it to the side before it goes off, sending bits of debris raining down onto all of you.

There’s the distinct sound of Kate’s boots running toward you, Yelena’s Russian curse words, and a part of you that tells you to go check on May. There’s no chance in hell that you’re letting Green Goblin get away though so you swallow down your pain from aching joints and bleeding cuts and run after him.

You arrive outside just in time to watch him throw another bomb that you’re too slow to stop.

The explosion throws you back onto the ground and you groan as you land on a piece of glass. You’re breathless and bleeding and it’s only then that the guilt crashes into you at once.

This time, your attempt to stand is far less balanced and you stumble onto a familiar frame. “Hey, hey, easy. There’s no rush, babe.”

You happily accept Kate’s embrace, the familiarity of her comforting touch soothing some of your pain. “You okay?”

“Yeah, nothing some band-aids and a nap won’t fix.”

Hearing the usual humor in her tone brings you back to reality…which brings your mind back to your mom and the way you so recklessly rushed outside without knowing if she was injured. “How about Peter and May? They okay?”

Your girlfriend’s silence never means anything good and in this context, it makes your heart drop to your stomach in an instant. You’re about to question her again when Yelena’s voice stops you.

“We need to get out of here before the cops arrive…again.”

You push your injured body away from Kate’s, searching for the answer you don’t want to hear. “Kate…”

“I’m sorry.” She avoids your eyes as she responds. “Peter tried but it was already too late. She’s gone, y/n.”

You don’t hear anything she says after that.

It’s strange the way the world slows to a stop around you while your overwhelmed brain tries to process the Earth-shattering information. Strange how a second ago everything seemed to make sense and now you’re left gasping for breath, reaching for answers you know don’t matter.

The how, the why, the what. None of that matters.

May is dead.

And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it despite the powers, and the gadgets, and the hours of training.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye before she-

“y/n, it’s not your fault.”

“Listen to Kate Bishop, she’s finally right for once.”

“Hey!”

Their attempt to comfort you turns into chaotic bickering but you don’t pay attention to their words. You can’t think about anything except the gaping hole in your chest that had once been full of May’s knowing looks and thoughtful words.

Kate’s right.

It’s not your fault. Or May’s. Or even Peter’s. There’s only one man to blame for this.

And you’re sure as hell going to make him regret his choice to mess with your family.

“y/n.” Kate’s voice manages to cut through the hate-filled fog that’s starting to cover your mind. “y/n, don’t.”

You don’t listen to her words, you don’t even take in the way she so easily knows what you’re thinking, you just do what you’ve always done: keep moving.

You successfully escape your girlfriend’s embrace and start running. You’re not sure where you’re going or how you’re going to find him but the plan will come later. Right now, you just need to do something before the grief consumes you.

Kate yells after you but there’s no way she’ll be able to chase after you. Especially once you start swinging from building to building.

The hours pass by in between blurs of rain, tears, and the occasional wall you end up crashing into. Your phone blows up with missed calls and countless texts but you don’t care.

The entire world could crash and burn without you for all you care. The light within your own world has already been extinguished.

Your search ends up leading you right to the Statue of Liberty where you’re not at all surprised to find a chaotic battle going on. Maybe you should have checked your phone to get caught up with the plan but that doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that you’ve finally found what you’ve been looking for. And your mind is dead-set on your objective.

You ignore the rest of the fights going on, including the look of pain and relief on Kate’s face once she sees you swing past her, and hone in on Peter.

You're still bleeding and there's a sharp pain in your leg you can't ignore but your injuries don't matter. All that matters is avenging May.

You land next to Peter without a word, the venom in your eyes saying more than your voice could. You're both fighting for the same thing but you have no doubt he's still pulling his punches.

Something you have no intention of doing.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to join the fun,” Green Goblin taunts. “Too tired of running after your dead parents?”

“Shut your mouth,” you reply as you step toward him. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

That only makes him laugh. “Trust me, pain makes you stronger. You'll see, all I have to do is take away your pretty little girlfriend next and you'll understand.”

There's no hesitation left in your body once you hear those words.

You lunge forward, tackling Osborn to the ground. That stupid smirk doesn't leave his face even while you rain down punches on him.

“Come on! Is that all you can do? What's the point of two Spider-Idiots if one is too weak to fight?”

You know he's only taunting you. Trying to push your buttons and get you to break. Too bad that's exactly what you want to do.

Every time he pushes you back, you kick him back twice as hard. You stumble and get punched in the face enough times to make your ears ring but you don't dare stop.

You don't even think.

You just punch and punch and punch until Osborn’s on the ground, his witty mouth finally silent.

Seeing him like this only serves to remind you of what you've lost, of the pain that's taken hold of your every thought and move. You lift your hand to shoot a web at his forgotten glider when a voice stops you dead in your tracks.

“y/n?”

The mere sound of your name coming out of Kate’s mouth in that desperate tone is enough to make your breath catch in your throat. You already know what she's going to say so you speak up first. “I have to.”

“No, you don't. You've done enough, okay? You can walk away.”

You look down at your hands, at the bloody mess you've left behind, and the tears start falling before you can stop them.

The hand that pulls you up doesn't belong to the archer but it's full of an understanding only Yelena could be capable of. “Go on, Spider-Boy and I got this.”

You nod, too numb and overwhelmed to fully accept the weight of what you've done. Of what you almost did.

“Kate?” You call out as you finally turn around to face her.

“I’m right here.” She greets you with the same soft look and warm smile you fell in love with, nothing but compassion in her gaze.

You all but collapse into her waiting arms, your shoulders slumped as you finally give in to the all-consuming grief that lingers in every breath you take.

The sounds of the chaos around you fades into nothingness.

All you can hear is Kate's soft reassurances and the steady beat of her heart. You don't need anything else than that right now. Despite how strong the urge for revenge had been.

You just need your girlfriend…and a long nap.

Peter watches the scene with a small, albeit sad, smile on his face. There's a weight on his chest that even fixing his mistakes won't take away.

But at least he knows you won't be alone. The spell will make you and everyone else he loves forget about him but at least you'll still have Kate.

It'll be hard but he has no doubt you'll be able to rebuild and find the light inside of yourself that May always believed was there. Flickering underneath all the pain of your past.

Now you and Kate can shine together.

Without him and the chaos he unnecessarily brought into your life.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop fic #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop #yelena belova #peter parker #hawkeye #black widow #spiderman #hawkeye fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #wlw fic #wlw #writing

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onwriting-hrarby · 14 days

Text

okay, so... i am reading what i think in my 18 years in fandom is THE BEST FANFICTION I HAVE EVER READ. and not because it reads like a novel or it's particularly well-written (which it is!) but because it's like the writer is a reincarnation of the original writers of the series. not in how they are plotting the fic, or the conceptualization of the canon material... btu because of the DIALOGUES.

Like the dialogues are SO WELL DONE it's practically like HEARING the characters with their voices. The tone... THE TONE! THEY GOT THE TONE RIGHT! despite all the political struggle, all the angst of the fic... the dialogues absolutely bang. I am in AWE of this fic, I swear. It's the best fanfiction I have ever read in the pure sense of canon/au-fanfiction. Of course, if it was a modern au, things would be different but being a fanfiction based in the canon univers (albeit a little au) it feels... truly, it feels like a sequel to Avatar itself.

It's a Zutara fic called Southern Lights. I believe when sorted by kudos it's one of the firsts fics that appears in AO3 (which got me thinking: ah, so there are true masterpieces in the first page of AO3. I always had to dig a little deeper for fics that piqued my interest, were well-written, flawlessly done... That I considered myself lucky to actually find this fic first thing.)

#atla #avatar #fanfiction #zutara #the world of fanfiction

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cultofdixon · 1 year

Text

Trapped

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Terminus was a hell for everyone that experienced it. But you were the only one out of them all to have lived there and you saw EVERYTHING. Even lost a part of you to get you in line. That when the next community opened its doors, you were the last one adjusting • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence / Cannibals / Missing Appendage / Injuries / Scars / Anxiety Attacks / Claustrophobia / PTSD / Nightmares

Requested by: Anon

The explosion took all of their attentions away from what was about to happen. The two butchers behind the four kneeling men looked at Gareth for answers while he left in search of them.

“Should we continue?”

“I’m not sure—-hey” One of them got distracted leaving Rick’s window to be open but when he heard what’s next— “You’re not allowed in here. Where did you—-“ the gun fired making them all flinch and turn around quickly to find Y/N. Y/N…

The gun in hand was Rick’s, and it was handed to him after said retired sheriff broke loose taking out the second butcher as she took care of releasing the three still tied. Daryl didn’t hesitate to bring her into his embrace holding onto her for a short while relaxing every negative thought from the time apart. Glenn noticed her hands on Daryl’s back and quickly made the two part so that he could get a better look at the missing pinky and ringer finger of her right hand.

“How long have you been here?”

“Who the fuck did this to you?!”

“Y/N. What are we dealing—-“

“Cannibals. Fucking human eating human beings!” Y/N snaps handing Rick back his gun as he took her hand to see the damage himself. “I’m not gonna like what you’re plotting am I?”

“You know where our stuff is being held if you had my gun. We can find a lighter”

Y/N helped her group get their weapons back, along with anything else they might have taken. Resulting in the next actions being Daryl holding Y/N’s body still as Glenn held her hand for Rick to heat up his knife and pressed the heated material against the stubs where her fingers were to stop the bleeding and start the healing process.

“You know I’m a doctor right?”

“Would you do this in the green zone?”

“As a last resort” Bob states grabbing a left over bandana and wrapping it around their wound securely and temporarily. Until they find actual medical supplies. “What…did they do to your…?”

“You don’t wanna know” Y/N frowns as her words made Daryl tighten around her for a second before the small group had to retrieve the others and leave this shithole.

The reunions made the pain hurt less. But there was still something lingering there…that got triggered by the downhill spiral they all endured.

The cannibals finding and eating part of Bob

Bob dying

Finding out Eugene was useless

Finding out Beth was alive…but dead when reunited

Tyreese dying

Starving themselves

Almost dying to a herd trapped in a barn

Then the stranger that promises a safe haven, and going to such with hesitation. Y/N kept to herself as the group followed the stranger named Aaron and his partner Eric. She found herself lingering to the back watching the place come to view with more guards, another fence, and most likely another set of rules with harsh consequences. At least that’s the state of mind she’s going in with.

“Hey…come on” Maggie pulls her out of her thoughts wrapping her arm around her and walking inside the place with Y/N. “We’ve got yea. I don’t think anything bad will happen here…”

“And if it does?”

“You’ve got us” Sasha reassures joining the two as they made their way into Alexandria.

Daryl kept his attention on Y/N the entire time since they first entered Alexandria. She has Sasha and Maggie currently but it’s always nice to have another set of eyes as long as he doesn’t stare for too long. He was making sure nothing overwhelmed her or triggered her because she hasn’t sit still since arriving.

“Y/N is staying in the first floor bedroom” Carol informs Daryl who didn’t want to be inside the homes for too long in case anything happened. But he also wanted to make sure Y/N stayed in one place to avoid the worrying of where she’s at. “The surgeon here patched up her hand, what Rick and you guys did was a bit much but he would’ve done the same if he were you”

“The son of a bitch doesn’t look like he’s stepped out of this place since the beginning”

“Regardless. Y/N hasn’t slept since the fall of the prison and if you’re not leaving the porch to yknow take a much needed shower or to scowl at one of the pretty boys…if anything happens, Y/N will need you.”

Daryl knew this already, but Carol knew a part of him was still hurting. Blaming himself for Beth’s death. Beating himself up for not finding Y/N and having her suffer the horrors of that place the longest. He wasn’t going to leave his spot unless something bad happened.

Y/N sat up in her bed to be met with a dark room, only light was on her. She felt her fingers seeing that they were there, until a hand came into view grabbing her wrist and yanking her forward.

The woman fell out of bed on her hands and knees as the light only followed her. She gasps to the sudden pain returning to her ribs as she fell through the floor landing straight on her side.

As the prison fills into the world surrounding Y/N, she looks at her person finding the damage from the fall of the prison littered on her body. Weakness from recovering from being sick…and the bruised ribs from an explosion knocking her off the second floor to the first in A block.

Need to get out

Need to get…

Y/N found herself sitting up in restraints in a cold building. Felt like a freezer of a warehouse. She scans around the once dark again room as footsteps echoed in the darkness. Revealing Gareth who held a nutcracker behind his back.

“You stumbled in our community, and killed one of our own”

She couldn’t speak.

“You’ll suffer the consequences…and then work for me. Unless you’d want to lose another finger” Gareth smirks as Y/N suddenly screams in pain to find one of her fingers missing. “Just. Cooperate…and you can live here.”

Suddenly Y/N was on her back gripping onto the set of hands gripping her throat staring up at one of the butchers who had enough of her attitude. Gareth appears beside him watching the light in her face but right before she passed out, he made the man let go.

“Another”

The sudden screaming caught Daryl off guard as he stops talking to Glenn about the asshole sons of Deanna to rush into the home. Glenn of course followed in case something worse was happening but as he joined the scene watching Daryl get swatted away from Y/N’s fetal position in the corner of the room. He quickly grabbed the back of Daryl’s vest pulling him away causing a bit of a fight.

“The hell are you doing?!”

“She’s still having the nightmare” Glenn points out the fact that she’s never opened her eyes since he arrived and given when Daryl first entered she didn’t know instantly that it was him. “You need to be more careful”

“Right…Fuck” Daryl frowns taking it slow and approaching Y/N’s curled position grabbing the blanket off the bed.

“It’s okay. Y/N…you’re not where you’re at” Glenn whispers approaching along with the archer in case she retaliated. “You are in a house…that you share with Carol…and Daryl…in the new community. That is scary…and full of new people…”

“But we’re here…” Daryl states watching her body relax slowly. “You ain’t alone like back at Terminus……we reunited. We’re safe. You are safe”

The two stopped when her body relaxed enough for Daryl to bring the blanket around her without any freak out. When she woke she retracted a bit making Daryl back off and Glenn shoot out reassurance until she relaxed again but conscious.

“You had a nightmare”

“That triggered sleepwalking or I don’t know what you’d call being asleep but acting the nightmare.” Glenn sat on the bed as Y/N curled up with the blanket around her with Daryl keeping his hands on her knees. “Uhm. I know the timing is terrible but what happened in the nightmare?”

“Felt more like a night terror…but uh…I don’t really want to talk about it”

“That’s fine. Just know you’ve got us whenever you’re ready to talk about it” Glenn got up from the bed. “Do you want anything before Daryl can—-“

“I’m okay…thank you Glenn”

Once he left, Daryl got up from the floor to help Y/N off the ground. He directs her back to bed sitting on the edge once she got in entirely covering herself more in the blanket.

“Imma ask, if yea need anything before I grab assumptions”

“…my hand hurts”

“Pain meds it is” Daryl pats her knee getting up to grab what she’ll need leaving her alone for a moment.

Y/N brought her knees to her chest covering her entire person with the blanket Daryl wrapped around her shoulders earlier. She wanted to make herself small for just a second to find some sense of calm…even when her heart was still racing like it did when she was in Terminus.

The night of the party came and Daryl wasn’t going to go. Because he hates that shit and wants to be there for Y/N, who hasn’t left her room since receiving it. He kept to the porch as he smoked to clear his mind of the mental toll she could be experiencing when Aaron walked by.

“Not going to the party?”

“Nah, I’ve got shit to take care of”

Aaron nods thinking about his next response before just going for it. “Want some dinner? I wasn’t gonna go because of Eric so we’re staying in”

“I uh…” Daryl turned toward the house expecting Y/N’s bubbly self to come out but that was taken from everybody. “Y/N hasn’t left the house and—“

“You don’t wanna leave your partner. I get it” Aaron smiles. “But if you come by. For just. 15 minutes. You can eat…grab a plate for her” he offers and left on that note.

Fifteen minutes…

And he didn’t have to worry about it one bit. Daryl came back actually past fifteen minutes to find Y/N in the kitchen in fresh clothes and grabbing a glass of water. He joins her at the kitchen island setting down the bowl of spaghetti he brought for her from Aaron’s.

“The party?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t go to that shit without yea. Just went to Aaron’s for dinner” Daryl watches her inspect it. “I had two plates. It ain’t poisoned.”

“Thank you for bringing me dinner…” Her smile returns to her as it always brought a sense of warmth to Daryl.

Daryl brought himself beside her while she ate her dinner in the comforts of his presence. Y/N finishes her dinner and put the bowl in the sink to wash later…feeling Daryl come up behind her wrapping his arms around her torso resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry you were stuck there…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Dar…we’re safe now” Y/N rubs his forearm gently. “Right?”

“M’not leavin’ anymore. You’re stuck with me now” Daryl smiles listening to her laugh that he missed so much.

“Good”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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mxigo · 1 year

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soul sick | part 2

SERIES SYNOPSIS: It’s hard enough watching the male that holds your heart pine for another woman, one that is the definition of beauty and grace, but to watch him fall for another yet again after you feel the mating bond snap into place is its own hell. A hell that makes you dangerously ill.

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: lucien pays you a visit to ask a favor, and things come to a head with azriel

WARNINGS: angst, swearing, graphic descriptions of vomiting

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: FINALLY. oh my god i finally figured it out and was able get the plot done and chugged through the angst. as usual, please let me know if there are any errors. enjoy!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

Your mood improved ten-fold after having lunch with Cassian and Mor. They did everything they could to get you to forget your miserable night, and they did for the most part. Although, they caught you staring off into space once or twice, and they knew you were trying to understand where you went wrong with your relationship with the Spymaster.

The remainder of the walk consisted of the three of you talking about senseless things until they each give you a hug before they leave, Mor winnowing out of the street with a pop.

When you walk through the door, you can’t help but sigh, letting the rest of the tension fall off your shoulders. Blessed relief floods through you as you shuck your shoes off in your room near the wardrobe’s door, pushing past clothes to find a sleep set to wear.

You throw your hair up out of your face, padding into your bathroom to wash your face of the little makeup you did wear today. It doesn’t matter that the sun had just set behind the horizon. Once your pajamas were on and you took off your face, you were not stepping foot outside again today, and you planned on shutting yourself in your study to continue your work for the priestesses.

While you were not a priestess, you feel at home in the library in the House of Wind, and you loved helping them with rewriting and translating anything new or old for them. Before you had friends of your own, you had books and the stories that they told. And although you have made some friends throughout your life, your love for books has never waned.

In the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of rosé before making your way to your study, letting the door close behind you with a soft snick. The entire room is lined with shelves upon shelves of books of just about every genre of fiction and nonfiction, organized carefully so that you know where every book was right off the top of your head. Cassian likes to poke fun at you and call you anal, but it literally drives you crazy if a book is put back in the wrong spot and then you can’t find it the next time you need it.

The dark mahogany shelves exude warmth throughout the room, pairing perfectly with the desk of the same material, gifted to you from Rhys when you bought the townhouse. This place is your safe place and has a perfect view of the dazzling lights of Velaris at night through the double glass doors leading to a balcony.

The hardwood floors are cool beneath your feet as you walk over to the desk, sending chills up your spine. You grab a blanket from the back of the couch, wrapping it around your shoulders before settling into the comfortable chair. The stack of books that you need to work on is tall, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The first book is thousands of years old and seems to be a second edition one as well. The spine is nearly falling apart, holding together by sheer will alone, like merely touching it could make it disintegrate into dust. Dust and dirt is caked into the scratches and grooves of the cover, but you can still make out the title. Orys: Prythian’s Fourth High Lord of the Night Court. A smile tugs at your lips. You’re almost excited to read about one of Rhysand’s distant relatives.

A sharp knock at your door interrupts you, pulling an annoyed sigh from you. You grab a sweater to throw on before you walk down the hall to the door, praying that it’s not Azriel. You just don’t have the strength to talk to him about last night just yet.

But you’re surprised to see Lucien at your door instead of the shadowsinger.

“Lucien? To what do I owe the pleasure,” you ask, completely taken aback.

He is noticeably distraught, his hair looking like it needs to be washed along with forming dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he has not had a good sleep in a few nights.

“I—I need some help.”

For a moment, you are speechless. There could only be one thing that he would need help with, and you are a bit afraid to confront it.

“I just opened a bottle of rosé from my favorite winery on the Sidra. Would you like a glass while we talk,” you try, earning a nod from the lordling in response.

You stand back, opening the door wider for him to step into your home, suddenly self-conscious about how you are dressed in the presence of a male that you hardly know. You wrap your sweater around you a little bit tighter at the realization.

Lucien follows you into the kitchen where you left the bottle, telling him to get comfortable while you go to retrieve your glass where you left it on your desk. When you return, Lucien is staring off at the table, a pained expression shrouding his face. His hands are curled around each other, supporting his head as they rest under his chin. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the counter where the bottle sits and pour a generous glass for your guest before settling across from him, tucking a leg under yourself.

Neither of you speak first, and you wait so Lucien has the time to gather his thoughts and think about what he might say. After a moment, he finally unfurls his hands to rest them in his lap.

“I fear that I may be losing my mate to the shadowsinger.”

Oh dear gods. Your heart aches for the male in front of you, suddenly understanding his pain, and feeling your own at the same time. You wet your lips, shifting as you try to come up with something to say, but you suddenly feel sick, and your heart is beating too loud to hear anything.

“Could it be possible that their relationship is just platonic,” you ask, your voice airy.

You take a long draw from your glass, watching as Lucien shakes his head, finally looking up at you, and his golden eyes find your own.

“No. I catch glimpses of her emotions and feelings occasionally, especially when they’re together. It’s not platonic.”

Your eyes fall shut, attempting not to panic at the thought that Azriel might share the same feelings for the Archeron sister.

“I’m sorry this is happening. I can’t imagine the pain that you might be feeling.”

“But I think you can.” Your eyes snap open, freezing on him.

“What?”

“You have feelings for Azriel, do you not?” His straightforwardness makes your mouth drop open.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are quite obvious about it. It’s puzzling that he hasn’t caught on yet,” Lucien says, leaning back in the chair and taking a sip from his glass.

Your face burns, undoubtedly red. This time, you take a gulp of the wine.

“I’m hoping because of it, you can try to persuade him to turn his efforts elsewhere, perhaps yourself.”

“Lucien, I understand you are upset, and rightfully so, but I think you should talk to Elain, not me.” You shake your head, unbelieving of what he is asking of you.

“Then try to talk to Azriel and explain what he is doing, even if he doesn’t realize it,” he fights, his desperation seeping through. “He is taking what is supposed to be my moments with her.”

Neither of you speak, the tension having peaked.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit much,” he whispers, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s ok. I’ll try to talk to him the next time I see him. Although, we’re not really on good terms right now.”

“For the same reason?” You nod.

“Hm. Well, thank you for listening to me, but I should get going. Mother knows that Rhysand will start to wonder where I slinked off to.” He stands, knocking back the rest of the rosé. “Thank you for the drink. You have lovely taste,” he adds with a smile, which you return.

“You’re welcome, Lucien. My door is open whenever you need me.”

He nods once before winnowing out of the house, leaving you to think about his proposal.

Just the very thought of talking to Azriel about relationship with Elain makes your stomach roll, and there is a very good chance that Azriel won’t take your advice the right way either. Historically, he is not one for getting over someone that he cannot have.

A knock from behind you makes you jump, nearly screaming when you see a shadowed figure outside your home, but you sigh when you see a pair of great leathery wings. Your heart thunders in your ears as you try to decide whether to go out and talk to him or ignore him and send him away. You decide on the former.

Taking a blanket from the living room, you walk out the door and onto the patio, allowing yourself to lean against the wall. The night has quickly turned brisk, a sharp wind ripping through the balcony, and you pull your blanket tighter. It’s silent for a moment, waiting for him to speak first.

He is dressed casually tonight, the swirls of his tattoos spilling from underneath the hem of his short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of pants loose around his thighs. Not that you’re looking.

But as you look to meet his eyes, you blink in surprise at their seriousness, staring at you with a look that you can only describe as distraught.

“Why was Lucien here?”

You blink again, not quite sure of what you heard.

“Excuse me?”

“Why did Lucien come to you at this time of day?”

“What? Can a friend not come for a visit?” you ask defensively, crossing your arms.

“We both know that he’s not a friend, Y/N. There’s a reason that he came here, and I need to know what it was.”

You stare at him, mouth agape in disbelief. Is this really happening right now?

“He came to me for help.”

“Help for what?”

You take a breath. “Az, I think you should take a step back from Elain for a while.”

His face screws up instantly, offended by what you have said.

“Is that what he came here for? Because he’s jealous?”

“Azriel, think about what you are doing. Regardless of what the two of you think, there is a reason they are mates.”

A feeling of unease is palpable from him as he switches his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“You know that Rhys’ parents were mates and look how that turned out.”

“But Lucien is not Rhys’ father, Az. He is so far from that, or Feyre wouldn’t have brought her with him to Velaris. He is a good male, and you are actively standing in the way of their relationship.”

Azriel’s mouth is agape, at a loss for words, but he quickly turns to gather himself.

“I’m just trying to help her assimilate into our life, Y/N. She lost a lot when she was Made, and I’m helping her understand that there’s a whole new world that she can explore now.”

A weightless feeling begins to overshadow you, not believing the words that are coming out of his mouth.

“That is Feyre’s job as her sister to do that. She is also mated to someone that happens to be living with us and is dying to get to know her, Az, and you’re taking that away from him and stealing those moments that are meant for him for yourself.”

Azriel scoffs, his gaze sour.

“A mate that had a hand in having her kidnapped from her home. Of course she doesn’t want anything to do with him, Y/N, and she doesn’t have to.”

Silence stretches between the both of you as you allow the gravity of his words sink in, a cold terror gripping you.

With a blank face, you ask, “what do you mean by that?”

He just shakes his head, letting his wings unfurl. In a desperate attempt to get him to stay, you grab his hand, and your eyes meet once again. Then, suddenly, you feel it. You feel the bond snap into place as your soul realizes that male in front of you is your mate, and your heart breaks for the second time tonight. Your eyes go wide, breath catching in your throat as your skin erupts into chills. Hope fills you as you wait for any recognition from him, but there’s nothing, only his face screwing up.

He shrugs your hand off, just as you did to him. Your heart is thundering in your ears, and you struggle to figure out what to do next over the onslaught of emotions, both yours and glimpses of Azriel’s.

“Az, wait—”

“I love her, Y/N.”

Everything goes numb, your hearing cutting out. There is no possible way you heard him right. He can’t be in love with her because he’s your mate, it can’t be right.

You must look pitiful, staring unbelieving at him, waiting for him to say something different, but he only looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says before launching off of the patio and into the sky, disappearing into a black spec in the night, leaving you alone to unravel the fresh bond that will never be returned.

†

Sleep evaded you the entire night, having left you to your thoughts and to relive how your mate essentially rejected you without actually knowing what he was doing. All because you didn’t have the guts to tell him how you felt, and now he is no longer yours in any sense of the word. You had centuries to tell him but waited too long, and he took the opportunity that opened for him to have someone of his own, despite her already having a mate.

A headache sprung up as well, bursting right behind your eyes, throbbing with intensity. You haven’t had a headache spring up like this since before Rhys was Under the Mountain, but the stress of the past few days could definitely have caused it, especially from last night. The morning brings no relief, as you remain curled up in bed with the blinds pulled shut to prevent the harsh light from attacking your eyes. You managed to make yourself a cup of tea to sit on your bedside to drink, but you are so exhausted that you have not been able to muster the strength to sit up and drink it.

A groan slips from you as you roll over to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but as you do, your stomach turns, and your mouth suddenly fills with saliva. Eyes snapping open, you scramble up from your bed, bolting to the bathroom to make it to the toilet just in time for your stomach to reject everything that was in it. You grip onto the cool porcelain, choking on the painful onslaught. The rejection is so strong that after each contraction, you sag against the seat, heaving. Even after there is nothing left to come up, your body keeps rejecting, causing you to gag and cough until you are gasping for air like a fish out of water. After an eternity, your stomach finally lets you rest, allowing you to sag to the floor, sighing against the cool tile upon your flushed cheek.

This continues the entire day, waking for bouts of dry heaving until tears leak from your eyes, and your chin trembles as you fight back a sob. You have no clue as to what time it could be, surely deep into the day, but you are confined to the bathroom in fear that your stomach will revolt again. You finally submit to whatever has a hold of you, deciding that you will sleep in the bathroom, you carefully pull your duvet from your bed to drag it into the bathroom to have some kind of comfort on the hard tile floor. Finally, sleep peacefully takes you.

†

A soft touch pulls you from your dreamless sleep, your eyes peeling open to look blearily at whoever is kneeling in front of you. The headache persists, and the light causes you to clamp your eyes shut again, hissing at the light.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Cassian’s voice whispers in your ear. You nod but don’t open your eyes again.

“Rhys has been sending you notes all day inviting you to dinner, but you never answered them. Have you been here all day?” Another nod. “What has you so messed up, sweetheart?”

“I dunno. Just woke up like this. Can’t stop throwing up.” Your voice is scratchy from the abuse it has suffered, and it hurts to swallow. “Just put me in bed and set a bucket next to it. I wanna sleep.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the House?”

“No, no House. I’ll sleep it off. It’ll be fine, just stressed out,” you insist, still not opening your eyes.

Despite his better judgment, Cassian carries you back to bed, tucking you in and replacing your cup of tea with a glass of water and brings the bucket that you wanted. You haven’t moved from how he laid you in bed, and his eyebrows furrow in concern. It’s not often that fae get sick, especially with whatever you have.

He kneels next to the side of the bed you are on, letting a hand run itself over your head.

“I’m going to get going. If we don’t hear from you in a few hours, I’m bringing you to the House and we’ll get Madja. Do you understand?” Yet another nod.

Cassian sighs, registering that you have a slight fever. He stands up, leaning over to tuck you in before he leaves. With a last once over of your room and leaving a scrap of paper and a quill on your bedside, Cassian leaves.

He still doesn’t feel right about leaving you at your home, but he will be going back if you don’t write back within a few hours to check on you.

Everyone has moved to the sitting room by the time he gets back, each with a drink in hand. He notes that Elain is sitting in a chair next to Azriel but refrains from saying something. He settles into a seat next to Rhys, and Feyre notices that Cassian is back, but without her friend in tow.

“Did you see her?”

“Mhmm. She’s sick. Found her asleep on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet, all wrapped up in her sheets. She refused to be brought here, so I told her I would be back if we didn’t hear from her.”

“Oh Mother. We just saw her yesterday, Cas. How could she have gotten sick so quick?” Mor asks, face warped with concern as she leans forward.

“She said it’s from stress, but I don’t know how stress could make her throw up so much that she had to sleep on the bathroom floor,” he sighs.

Across the room, the Spymaster listens intently to Cassian’s words, his heart dropping as he realizes that he is the “stress” that has physically manifested as a sickness.

TAGLIST: @positivewitch @brekkershadowsinger @baebeepeach @toobsessedsstuff @lucyysthings @marigold-morelli

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel angst #mxigo.azriel #mxigo.masterlist.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist.azriel #mxigo.masterlist.acotar #mxigo.soulsick

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aqricus · 11 months

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SAY MY NAME ! feat. xiao

V SAYS . . . “who knew that giving you one little gift would open xiao’s eyes to how he feels about you? but, is it enough to convince him to act on it?”

+ WC . . . 3.6k

+ sfw material. female reader. angst. fluff.

!! this was supposed to be nsfw, but i made it into two parts for the sake of making the plot fit in a way that feels comfortable and fluid to me. the NEXT part will contain nsfw material !!

“if you ever find yourself in danger, or if you cannot bring yourself to do what is necessary, speak my name, and i will appear to you.”

in xiao’s mind, it was but a trivial blessing, a privilege well within his sphere of work and achieved without significant effort. but, as appealing as it may seem to be deemed worthy of wielding his name like a baleful curse, he believes that it is all he can give you. he is clumsy and unversed in matters of human relationships, and he does not serve much benefit in the way of offering applicable advice or the types of elegant, lyrical compliments he occasionally hears pour from the lips of poets and performers entertaining audiences near the boundaries of the city.

it doesn’t help that you hardly ever find yourself in sticky situations or toeing the line between safety and peril; because, although he is grateful for your security and the lack of harm you face, he simply wishes that he could offer you more. when he first relinquished such a power to you, it was nothing more than a precaution. you’ve never been one to gamble with your life or plunge headlong into potential danger on a whim, instead avoiding trouble within the walls of your picturesque cottage.

in fact, the only reason you even encountered him at all was due to the fact that a band of lawlichurls abandoned their usual routine and began chipping away at the outskirts of the city. you merely happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

he could tell you weren’t an adventurer with a single glance as you thanked him profusely for his intervention. you were frazzled and in clear disarray as you fluttered anxiously around him, hands gripped with a noticeable tremor as you awkwardly attempted to gather the collection of wildflowers and meticulously snipped mint plants that had been stripped from your grasp and scattered about the area during the mayhem. your explanation of the purpose of your whereabouts was linked together into one unbroken, jumbled stream of vowels and consonant. you were tense, movements rigid and tight like the string on a bow drawn taut.

however, it wasn’t until you finally began to mellow out and he dared to step closer, fist stuffed full of stems he managed to snag before the wind could whisk them away, that he noticed how captivating you appeared that night. despite your dress being rumpled and creased beyond simple adjustment, there was no mistaking the charming cascade of the violet fabric around your figure, loose enough for the hem to swirl around your ankles with each gust of wind yet tailored to inconspicuously highlight even the slightest curves embellishing your physique, right down to the gentle bend of your knee as you shifted your weight.

it reminded him of a sculpture he’d once stumbled upon among the ruins of a forgotten town sunken into the earth—a woman seated upon a pedestal with her head lifted toward the cracked ceiling, draped in overgrown vines and stained with moss yet carved with such care that every smooth edge and shape appeared soft to the touch.

you stood tall, even as the material draped over your body rippled beneath the force of the breeze. you radiated goodwill—your profuse expressions of gratitude, the benevolence that twinkled in eyes far more unguarded than any he’s had the pleasure of meeting in a long time, and especially the kind voice that fussed over blood that didn’t even belong to him until the words of rejection brewing on his tongue withered.

there he was, soaked in cerise and sharp gaze piercing you to your core as if your flesh were as delicate as gossamer, yet not once did the warmth in your gaze waver. you were afraid, of course you were, he could see it in your eyes, plain as day. but you approached him, regardless.

still to this day, he wonders why.

at the time, when you insisted that he allow you to repay him in some way, he became painstakingly aware of how rough—how calloused and hardened—his hands were compared to yours, which he was positive had never clutched anything sharper than a kitchen knife. he had half a mind to withdraw from your touch; but beneath the silver wash of moonlight, you appeared so serene that he wondered if such an action would be enough to upset you, so he stilled instead. he paid no heed to the figure veiled by your attire or really anything regarding your features. all he could focus on was the manner in which you gazed upon him without judgment, as if he hadn’t just effortlessly terminated an entire band of monsters within seconds, as if his awkward silence and uncertainty when speaking to you didn’t exist, as if his conspicuous appearance didn't deviate from the city's normalcy . . .

as if he was just like you.

you weren’t keen on allowing him to slip away so easily, either—at least, not without learning his name, which evolved into his favorite treat, which then developed into an invitation to meet the following day so that you could give him said favorite treat as a proper show of your gratitude. he didn’t quite understand what prompted him to take you up on your offer. perhaps it was because of how swiftly the chill of loneliness sank back in as soon as you vanished down the hillside with a secretive grin. maybe it had something to do with how the prospect of being able to ascertain whether or not the uncritical sincerity he’d seen from you the day prior was actually real made the corners of his lips quirk upward.

he may not have accepted an outright wish to meet you, but you piqued his interest. and, if nothing else, he knew that he wouldn’t be entirely adverse to seeing you just one more time before your paths would diverge once more.

but, you clearly had no intention of allowing it to be just “one more time.” time and time again, you would either stumble across him in a stroke of fortune or scrape together a reason to cross paths with him. he could not understand why you were so adamant about being in his presence if not for the need for protection or guidance pertaining to the land. even for the most mundane activities, like filling wooden basins with water near the edge of the river or assisting you with carrying something you clearly could manage on your own, you found pleasure in simply having him by your side, undaunted by and comfortable in even the longest stretches of silence that would settle between you.

he didn’t find it troublesome by any means. rather, he quite enjoyed being in your company, even if his attempts at reciprocating were poor at best. there is no history between you—no bloodstained, fractured past where you’ve witnessed his behavior at his worst or the horrific extent of his capabilities as a warrior. he was simply xiao, an enchanting individual who’s never had the pleasure of tasting a strawberry tart or experiencing lantern decorating but also happens to be your knight in shining armor.

you made him feel welcome, valued beyond his physical prowess, yearned for in his entirety. and in return, he’d grown to care for you deeply, craving a level of intimacy he’s had yet to explore.

even now, you don’t shy away from him, eyes wide and glimmering with excitement as the weight of his gift to you settles in. “really?” xiao remains rooted to his spot in the grass even as you step closer, close enough for him to count the individual fragments of rose quartz adorning the gold chain hooked around your throat—close enough to touch him, if you so pleased. “so, that means i’ll be able to call you whenever i want?”

he should have anticipated that you would completely bypass the fine details, your brain’s processing capacity reduced to nearly tunnel vision as you zero in on the overarching meaning instead: no more having to hope that you both are in the right place at the right time, no more wondering whether or not he’ll make the first move, and no more having to trek through the wilderness alone.

he nods and loosely folds his arms over his chest. “correct, but—”

before he can finish speaking, a dazzling smile blooms on your features, and your hand darts toward him without warning. he falls silent at the sensation of your fingers clasping his, drawing his hand into the space between you and cradling it within your own. he can detect a floral fragrance wafting from your skin . . . wisteria. it envelops his senses, intertwining with the comforting presence of your touch to send a ticklish, tingling sensation dispersing through his stomach. he swallows.

“this is so cool!” you squeeze his hand. “thank you, xiao.” the corners of his lips tilt upward into a small smile, and his muscles relax.

but, just as quickly as your grin appeared, it vanishes, along with your touch as you release him without warning. wait. his widen a fraction as he witnesses the warm gleam in your eyes dim into a muted reluctance. you withdraw from him, and in one fell swoop, the candlelight flickering in his chest is extinguished, reduced to nothing more than a cold whisper of smoke. wait. he’s never witnessed this behavior—this uncertainty—from you before. did he accidentally squeeze your hand? did you see something?

“wait, so . . .” you begin hesitantly, and xiao’s hand sinks back down to his side. he feels . . . he doesn’t know. he can’t quite place it, but it leaves his stomach roiling with malaise all the same. “all i have to say is your name, right? just ‘xiao’ and that’s it?”

“uh . . . yeah.”

rejection. he recalls the sting of it in the pit of his stomach, not quite foreign and not quite familiar, but never rendering him as defenseless as he is now. he’s become used to the solitude, accustomed to most regarding him with suspicion or fear. but to be subjected to such kindness from the first encounter, only to then have such a luxury slip from his fingertips without as much as a hint—this is new.

the swelling of your chest beneath your blouse as you inhale is barely noticeable. “have you always been able to hear when i say your name?” you question.

that’s probably the issue, his shoulders square. from what he’s learned from observing humanity, disregard for an individual’s privacy has never been taken kindly. “no, no,” he rushes to placate you. “i can only hear it if i establish a link between our consciences, which would allow for minimal communication.”

“oh . . .” your eyebrows furrow as you mull over his explanation, only for your easy smile to return a moment later. “oh!” the sight alleviates the coil of tension constricting around his chest, and he exhales slowly, with it expelling the besetting pessimism clouding his psyche. you laugh, and xiao relaxes. “sorry, that got a bit tense.” you dismiss with a breezy wave of your hand. “so, what about in conversation? can you hear that? like if i just mention your name.”

he shakes his head once more. “not quite. it’s more complicated than that. so far, i’ve only been able to hear it in times of desperation or fear . . . or, really just when you need me.” he explains. “let’s say you get attacked or get lost in the woods. you call me, and i’ll hear you. but, if you mention my name in conversation, i won’t.”

“oh, that’s a relief,” you shift your weight onto your right leg. a relief? does that mean she talks about me? xiao can’t help but search your eyes in question, seeking any kind of emotion to hint at the circumstances you may have mentioned his name in. why would you? do you speak highly of him? who do you speak about him to? how do you really feel about him?

almost as if his inquiries were spoken aloud, you shake your head. “i’ve mentioned you to ying’er in the past, but it’s only her, so you don’t have to worry—that is, if you don’t want people finding out about how much time we spend together. i told her all about how you saved me that one day, and ever since then, she’d ask about you whenever i came back late.” still not convinced by the hesitation shadowing his expression, you continue with a quiet chuckle. “it’s nothing bad, i promise. all good things.”

xiao’s chest warms at the confirmation. “oh . . . i see.” a tacit question lingers between the two of you; it rests on his tongue, cumbersome and thick, and manifests in your gaze as buoyant twinkles of anticipation as you await his next words. what do you tell her? it sears the tip of his tongue, dances behind twin rows of teeth welded together. you both feel it, he can tell. but, even as your gaze yields nothing but an earnest clarity, he pensively tucks his forefinger beneath his thumb and presses down, popping his knuckle. he never truly realized how easy it was to be deprived of the comfort of having you by his side. it could happen at any moment; one wrong word, one wrong move, and he could chase you off for good. he’s only just begun to find his place among the outskirts of society—to find his place with someone. perhaps at the moment, it’s better to play it safe and admire from a distance, he reasons, just as he has been up until this point.

“that’s . . . nice. i’m glad.” the delivery is awkward, as well as his words, but he figures it’s better than unnerving you.

wrong choice. his lips part when you wilt subtly at his lackluster response, shoulders deflating the tiniest bit and smile now tinged with a twist of dry amusement. you don’t seem shocked by his decision to avoid the question, but your disappointment is palpable regardless. “oh, uh . . .”

but, before he can scrape together something else to say, you silence him with a gentle shake of your head. “you know, xiao,” despite your despondency, he can still sense the same warmth in your voice. “i like hearing your thoughts, even if they aren’t anything profound. i just like talking to you.” your eyes meet his. “i ask you questions all the time—far too many, probably,” you huff a small laugh, “and you answer them all. it’s not weird to have questions for me, too.”

but when will i know when i am toeing the line between acceptable and unacceptable? once again, his thoughts remain unspoken. “. . . you would be correct.”

“if you want something, xiao,” you finish, “then pursue it.”

“if you want something, then pursue it.”

at the time, xiao had received your words in stride; but at this moment, as he sits alone, perched upon a low-hanging branch with his back braced against the trunk and one knee drawn up against his chest, he can’t help but consider how ludicrous of a statement it really is. a short sigh is huffed from his lips as he absently twirls the stem of an apple blossom between the pads of his thumb and index finger. the ivory petals stained with blush-pink glow beneath the gentle caress of the moonlight, protruding from the shadowy, muted backdrop of the surrounding vegetation like a sore thumb. he ghosts the tip of his middle finger over the velvety canvas of the petals.

“hey, check it out,” xiao’s eyes bounced from your face to the freshly plucked flower cradled in your palms. “the apple blossoms are blooming early this year! they smell lovely, don’t they?”

you were right. they do.

“pursuing something simply because you desire it . . . what a foolish way to live.” xiao reflects with a wry smile. no one can have everything they wish for; to believe otherwise is not only idiotic, but it also promotes greed. during his lifetime, he’s witnessed his fair share of avarice and power grabs, all spawned from people’s ideas that they were capable of achieving it all; and, just like clockwork, it would bait them into a downward spiral that would result in their own destruction. everyone is dealt their own hand of cards and is born to fulfill a certain purpose, himself serving as a prime example. to crave or demand something other than that would be . . .

but, then again, isn’t that exactly what he’s doing now? what he’s been doing?

his encounter with you that day was only supposed to be a one-time occurrence. neither of you had any business being involved in each other’s lives; he was slated to remain a finely honed weapon of mass obliteration, and you were to maintain a peaceful life separated from combat. your kind nature was in danger of being tainted by and desensitized to his misdeeds, just as your compassion threatened to dismantle his brutal, black-and-white mentality surrounding the protection of liyue that had been established within his mind longer than you have been alive.

even so, you became a staple in his life in an effort that was not one-sided. you dared to pursue him, and he returned the favor.

his forehead creases thoughtfully. pursue what you want.

what exactly do i want?

your face flickers through his mind, and his brows twitch. he wants you, he’s come to terms with that. but, what does that mean? what does he want from you? what does he want with you?

if it were as simple as he wished it was, he would find a way to keep you closer, find a way to have access to your voice first thing in the morning and last thing at night. he wants the freedom to dispose of the hesitance that restrains his fingers from brushing leaves from your clothes or from snaking around your waist to steady you whenever you trip. he wants to be able to comfortably ask you for more of that almond tofu you made him two weeks ago. he wants you to call him to accompany you whenever the sun begins to set.

he just wants . . . you. he wants more of you—all of you in your entirety.

however. . . the apple blossom slips from his fingertips, drifting to rest among the grass below. what i want does not matter. to dare to hope for a companion . . . such a desire is far too audacious for someone whose pedestal is composed of severed limbs and lifeless bodies--for a being whose soul is bound to solitude and tongue bound to silence by his karmic debt. perhaps he deserves it, perhaps he doesn’t. he doesn’t really think about it anymore.

but you certainly do not. it would only make way for misery and discontent to bleed into your soul, and he would shoulder the guilt for the remainder of his life.

he swings his legs over the side of the branch and allows himself to plummet through the air before landing nimbly upon the earth below. but none of that matters, anyway, if you do not reciprocate his feelings. without your tolerance of him being further interwoven in your life, he would never be able to completely fulfill his goal of being embraced with wholehearted acceptance. his hands seek anchorage in the fabric of his pants, porcelain fingers twisted into royal purple as he tethers himself back to reality. there are one hundred reasons for you to reject him and one hundred more that prove you deserve someone else, more familiar with affection and expressiveness, someone who isn’t only confident and willing to take charge of the situation when ensuring your safety.

the apple blossom catches his eye from its place nestled among the grass, and he picks it back up. it’s undamaged, still radiant and pure despite the thin, sanguine crescents lodged beneath his fingernails and the papery film of dirt layering his fingertips.

i’ll leave it here. he twirls the stem between his fingers. there is no reason to risk soiling it.

your smile appears in the back of his mind, nothing more than a brief flicker of a memory.

he stills, and after a moment of silence, he tucks the flower into his pocket.

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