#also—tender staring. its a must with these two

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Fifteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader are really enjoying being in L-O-V-E, which makes them a little careless. Daddy Fin likes to make gestures. Kaeda thinks she’s smart but she fucking AIN’T. The night of the ball arrives.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Some very light depictions of sex (not really smut). A light sprinkling of the ol’ violence.

Fingers rake slowly through your hair.

They belong to hands that have felt such torturous agony, and have been left with scars to show for it — but their touch is as light and as loving as a warm summer breeze.

Azriel’s body shudders against yours as he stares down at you. The hand that toys with the strands of your hair moves to brush a tender caress to your cheek, and his panting breaths land on your lips.

“I love you.” He whispers, not for the first time that morning.

Barely morning, in fact. The sun is not yet up, and even the dorms are still blanketed in silence. It’s the third time in a week you’ve snuck away to steal a few hours with Azriel — with Rhysand’s valued help. Your friend will return you to Velaris before Fin can even discover you left.

You push up onto your elbows, capturing Azriel in a languid kiss. And you murmur through a smile, “I love you, too.”

He also smiles. Your body is aware of his every touch as he pulls out of you and settles at your side, tugging the sheet over your naked bodies. The dorms aren’t the most romantic setting for you to lose yourselves in each other, no, but the mutual need for one another’s touches is getting—

Well. Quite frankly…out of hand. In a good way. The best way.

Gone is the endearing, nervous Azriel of that first sexual encounter. In his place is a male who knows your body like he’s been painting it with love for years — and not the mere two weeks since you first slept together.

Perhaps it wasn’t practice he needed at all, but rather…you. Just you.

He rests his head beside yours on the pillow, and his hand is clasping your cheek and turning your face towards his. “Sleep here with me.” He says.

A soft groan leaves you. Never would you have thought a night in the dorms would sound like heaven, but with Azriel, it really does. “I wish I could. I have to go back.”

“For how much longer?”

“I think Fin will make his decisions on the night of the ball. He knows what I think…what I want him to decide. And whatever choice he makes, I’ll come back here after — to you. I just hope I don’t fail in convincing him where Tathaln is concerned.”

Az twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. “You will not have failed. Whatever the outcome.”

You stare back at him. “We’ll be together regardless.”

“Yes.” He agrees. “We will. Let them screw with the camps, if they must. But wherever you go, I go, too.”

There is such ease in reaching forward to slant your mouth over his, that you almost forget how close you came to losing the opportunity of that simple gesture. The thought has you leaning in closer, throwing everything you think and feel into that kiss. You feel Azriel gasp against your lips, and you can’t hide your smile.

“One more week until the ball.” You say as you pull back. “Just one more week.”

Azriel studies you, sliding a hand over your cheek. “I want a life with you.”

Gods, you want the same. And it takes everything in your power to keep thoughts of war at bay — to push away the conversation you had with Fin concerning humans and uprisings and battle being inevitable. Happiness sits right here in front of you, and you…you’re going to throw yourself into its open arms. Think about the bad stuff later.

But before you can kiss Azriel again, the door is flying open, and Rhysand’s leaning against the frame.

“Time’s up, lovebirds.” He says, biting into an apple. “I have to get the damsel back to her tower before first light.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rhys.” Az scrambles to pull the sheet tighter around you. “You ever heard of knocking? We need to get dressed.”

“I’ve seen Y/N’s tits literally so many times.”

A snarl comes from the shadowsinger, and Rhys’s violet gaze glitters with amusement.

You roll your eyes, sitting up and clutching the sheet to those tits he’s seen literally so many times. “Stop winding him up, Rhys. I’ll be right out.”

“You sure you don’t need help dressing—”

There’s another deep snarl, and Azriel is launching a pillow in your friend’s direction. Rhys is out of the room before it can hit him, bellowing a laugh that causes a sleepy, disgruntled resident of the dorms to call out, “Shut the fuck up!” Rhys shouts back, “You shut the fuck up!”

You make to push off the bed, but Az tenderly catches your wrist and kisses you again. “Go careful with the High Lord.” He pleads.

“Always.” You peck him once, twice. “I’ll be back in your arms before you know it.”

He tries his best, to his credit, to smile. But you recognise the worry that lurks behind it, exists in a glowering streak on his beautiful face.

It’s the same worry that prowls in your veins.

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Rhys winnows you straight into your bedroom at Fin’s palace and parts with a kiss to your cheek — and a playful thank fuck you and Az sorted your shit out.

To which you’d promptly told him to go get his dick sucked by Zakai.

To which he’d promptly told you that he most definitely planned to.

Alone in your room, now, you feel…light.

Staring down the large bedroom filled to the brim with luxuries, you feel…content. Content to know you will soon be walking away from this and back to where you may have the bare necessities, but you — most importantly — have love waiting for you.

Perhaps you are a naïve fool in love. But with that love…anything seems possible, somehow.

You quickly change into your nightgown, not wanting to rouse suspicion by bathing too early in the morning — even if Fin does consider himself privy to your sleeping habits, he knows also that you have a routine. Doing anything outside of that may just pique his interest a little too close for comfort.

So you’ll sleep. Not for long; a few hours, maybe. And when daylight bathes Velaris, you’ll return to your scheming.

One week to go.

One week.

That thought becomes loud — too loud — the second you slip between the sheets. You want to shove a pillow over your head and attempt to block it out, but one urgent thought turns to another, another, and any tiredness that may have begun to bleed into your bones is interrupted by the very realisation that soon…things will be happening, moving along, soon.

You toss under the blanket, huffing quietly to yourself. But a slow, measured inhale of breath brings with it the lingering scent of Azriel, and it’s an immediate relaxant, a soothing presence of cedar and frost and—

You jolt at the click of your door echoing through the room. The sound of it opening.

The sky has lightened enough outside to lend little shafts of daylight to the room, but not bright enough to see much. You sit up quickly, watching the door inch open.

Footsteps thud against the floor, and Fin is emerging, his tall, muscled outline undeniable even in the dimness of the room. Your body tenses. You watch, stunned, as he strides further into your room, an object clutched in his hands. He heads straight for the desk.

Perhaps it’s foolish of you, but you reach over and lay your palm over the small orb on your bedside table. The touch has faelight blooming in the area, a golden glow that illuminates it just enough for you to see Fin stop in his tracks and turn towards you—

Flowers. He holds a bouquet of gorgeous, peach-coloured flowers in his hand. He meets your gaze, and pink dusts his cheeks.

“…did I wake you?” He swallows, shifting on the spot. “I’m sorry — I was trying to be quiet.”

You swallow, also. You eye him. The flowers. Him again. It makes you feel strange to have him here, in your room, at this hour. To think he came with a nice gesture.

It takes you a second or two to remember the role you’re playing. You force your shoulders to relax and plaster an airy smile on your face, drinking those flowers in with genuine surprise.

“Those are for me?” You ask.

Fin glances at the bouquet like he forgot, entirely, that he was even holding it. He clears his throat and nods. “Yes — I, uh…I got them from the Summer Court. You can only find them there. They’re called—”

“Dusk-Light Blooms.” As you kick your sheets away and stand, your reaction isn’t entirely for show. “I know — I’ve read about them. They’re beautiful.”

The male’s brown eyes study you, and then the peach petals, and then you again. He inclines his head a little. “Almost as lovely as you.”

“You say such kind things to me, Fin.”

“I think you’re owed twenty years of kind things.” He straightens himself, handing the bouquet out to you. “I meant to leave them as a surprise for you to wake up to. A parting gift, also. I’ll be away on business for the next couple of days and I…I didn’t want you to assume I left without thinking of you.”

There are such warring, conflicting feelings inside you that they almost knock you off your feet. Make you want to sit down.

Firstly, you almost feel like a wretch — for playing a game, and playing it so well. Who knew that you could charm a High Lord, make him so besotted by you? His kindness is not for show. He genuinely holds you in high regard.

And then a little bit of anger slips in. Because whether he and Roza honour their bond or not, Roza is his mate — his very pregnant mate. His very pregnant mate that’s currently sleeping in her quarters of the palace. It sits funny inside you that he’s not leaving her a beautiful bouquet of Dusk-Light Blooms before he parts for business. That he’s not more concerned about leaving her and the babe behind when he leaves.

But you suppose that means you’re a temptress, a wretched, seductive little thing. You have filled the High Lord’s brain with such sweet things that he can currently see no one and nothing but you. Manipulative, yes. But if it gets you your crucial result…if it saves Illyrians from Tathaln Baralas’s cunning mind…so be it.

Your voice is like syrup as you lift your gaze to his hickory-hued one and curl your lips into a smile. “I’ll look at these flowers while you’re gone.” You say. “And I’ll think of you.”

And it’s not an outright lie, because you probably will. You won’t be able to take in the beauty of those velvety petals without considering the fact that the High Lord of the Night Court went to the trouble of getting them for you in the first place.

“I’ll be thinking of you, too.” Fin turns, placing the bouquet onto the desk. He pauses with his back to you. “…I think of you a lot, in fact.”

“And I, you.” And Tathaln, and Fenlaros, and what a shit show this could turn into if things aren’t righted—

“If I could give you anything you wanted, Y/N, what would you ask for?”

He pivots so he’s facing you again, and the question leaves you stumped for a moment — even though the answer sits on your tongue.

You blink. “Anything?”

“Anything.” He dips his chin. “A house, a business to set you up for life, your father’s head on a spike for all to spit at—”

“I just want Tathaln Baralas to leave the Illyrian camps and their inhabitants alone.”

Fin stares at you. His head falls into a very slight tilt.

“It is by no means a glamorous place, Fin.” You breathe your words, unable to stop them pouring out of you. “It’s certainly not a gem like Velaris. But it works. The way it is has worked for hundreds of years — thousands. And where Tathaln thinks merging the camps would be the making of Illyria…I think it would be the death of it. In numerous aspects. Not just in the strength and training of its armies, but…in the strength of its families, too. There’s a lot to be righted about that place. Turning into one, huge cesspool of chaos and anger is not the way to do it.”

He knows all of this, of course…that you feel this way. But he stares at you like it’s the first time he’s hearing it, and he purses his lips. You can see the cogs turning in his mind. You let him think.

And when he steps closer to you, you do not step back. When he comes to within touching distance, you do not balk. Even when he raises a hand and taps the centre of your forehead with his finger.

“This,” he murmurs, “this mind is a brilliant thing. It should not go to waste.”

“I’m just speaking from the heart—”

“And from a logical standpoint, too. Your brain should be put to work on the council of a court. Not in a war camp where your excellence isn’t even seen, let alone appreciated.”

Your eyes dip to the floor. There’s no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” Fin draws even closer, and his hands are suddenly cupping your face, forcing you to gaze up at him. “You remind me so much of—”

He stops short.

For a moment, you can’t tell what cuts him off. You study his face for the answer.

And then you catch the very slight twitching of his nose. His brow furrows.

“You smell…different.” He says.

It is such a gargantuan effort to stop yourself from stiffening under his touch. To keep your expression mild, unperturbed.

“I don’t know what it is.” He sniffs again. “Familiar, but also…not.”

You swallow. Hard. “I used a different soap when I bathed before bed. I didn’t like the smell of it, so I threw it out.”

He leans in closer, and you stand still as his nose bumps the skin of your neck. He inhales deeply, slowly.

“…Cedar?” He guesses. “Cedar and…something else.”

“Yes.” You clear your throat. “I bought it from a market in Windhaven a while back. Like I said…I wasn’t fond of the scent.”

Such a lie. Such a godsdamned little lie.

But you will not give that away as Fin considers your words. You remain unflinching in your answer. You silently plead with him to believe you. If he could just believe you…you’ll kick yourself after he’s left, for not washing Azriel’s scent from your skin.

He slowly moves up your neck until his lips are at your cheek. Brushing the skin. “Interesting.” Is all he says, before pulling back. “I much prefer your scent.”

You bow your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He studies you. Closely. It seems to last for ages — so long that you grow restless on the spot.

But then a strange smile tugs his lips up, and he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger — a tender gesture. “Enjoy your flowers,” he says, “and don’t think of me too hard while I’m away.”

“I’ll try not to. And thank you — for the flowers.”

A deep laugh leaves him, and he’s brushing past you, striding back over to the door. Your heart is galloping inside your chest.

He stops with his hand rested on the doorknob, turning back to you. He tilts his head.

“If you have any more trouble sleeping,” he says, “just think about the night of the ball.” He opens the door. “I can do a great many things with my tongue.”

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You’ve reread the note at least ten times, now.

Something just feels…off about it. Churns your gut.

Perhaps it’s that it’s your father’s handwriting that glares up at you, dark and ugly and smeared on the page. Even his hand is threatening, domineering.

I need to see you urgently. Meet me at the mead hall this afternoon, three o’clock.

Of course, you consider simply throwing the note into the fire and giving it no further thought — that’s certainly what your father deserves — but…you don’t know. For all his flaws, your father is not a hyperbolic male. You can’t imagine him stressing urgency without good reason. You can’t imagine him wanting to see you without good reason.

Azriel flies you from Velaris to Windhaven, his arms a supportive band around you. He can feel the tension tightly coiled in your body. As his shadows guide his way through the skies, he leans in and presses a kiss to the crease between your brows.

“I love you.” He says, and those three little words loosen some of your restlessness. “You’re sure you don’t want me to meet your father with you?”

Yes, you want him to. But whether or not it’s a good idea is a different story entirely.

“It’ll only make him more hostile.” You smile apologetically. “You know…how he feels about you.”

“And he should know how I feel about him. That I hope he gets eviscerated. Slowly.”

He’s not joking, but a quiet, nervous laugh rasps out of you, and that laugh softens the fury in his eyes and causes him to squeeze you tightly against him.

“Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll stay away from the meeting. Not too far away, though. I’ll be nearby, and when he’s said his piece, I’m getting you straight out of there. We’ll go and buy hot chocolate.”

A smile curls your lips. “From the market stall?” The very one the two of you have been frequenting for years.

He leans in, kisses you again. “From the market stall.”

He sets you down a few buildings away from the mead hall and vows to wait. Something in his gaze as you part from him tells you that while he may not encroach on the meeting, his brilliant shadows will be putting the feelers out, keeping him updated. You expect — nor want — nothing less.

So close to Starfall, even Windhaven is mild enough that your heavy overcoat is starting to feel like a bad choice. Or perhaps the clamminess of your skin is from raw, nauseating anticipation. You do not want to do this. You would happily never see this male ever again. You wonder if it’s better to ignore his request and go running away from the building—

But you open the door and step inside before you can talk yourself out of it.

It’s always empty this time of day, when the Windhaven residents are finished with their lunch. The smells of roasted meat and potatoes still linger in the air, the warmth of the hearths still permeating the building. But it’s dark, and a little eerie, and that’s why you jump at the clipped footsteps that emerge from the kitchen.

The strange concoction of emotions you feel in that moment is jarring.

You’re both shocked and not shocked at all. Annoyed. Anxious. A little sick to your stomach. Kaeda holds your returned note in one of her hands. She chucks it onto the closest table.

“Wasn’t hard to imitate your father’s handwriting.”

You purse your lips, watching as she slides her hands into her pockets. You suppose you hadn’t considered this side of things — that she’d want to confront you about you and Azriel. But luring you here under false pretences…using your father to taunt you—

“Why.” You bite out. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop messing with my fucking work.”

Straight to the point, then. You take in her beautiful features, and oh, she’s angry. Her face is so pinched that it’s almost…not beautiful at all. Her vibrant hair is a flash of her temper.

But you’re angry, too. Livid. That she would use Azriel the way she did, play on his emotions, try to separate you…

“Azriel,” you snap, “is not your work. He’s not your anything.”

She stares at you, and her lips twitch. There’s amusement there, but it’s a sneer. A cold, calculating sneer.

“I knew, from the very first time he mentioned you, that you were going to be a problem.” She removes her hands from her pockets to fold her arms over her chest. “Azriel’s loyal little lapdog who’s so down bad for him that you’re loath to let him experience anyone else.”

“That’s bullshit, Kaeda. He didn’t want you. That had nothing to do with me.”

“Except it does. Because I could have convinced him if it weren’t for you, and then he would have come back to Fenlaros with me, and my fucking livelihood would not be hanging in the balance.”

Perhaps it makes you cold, but you don’t feel bad. It doesn’t grate on you that she may go from having everything, to having as little as you do. You feel…nothing.

She can sense that, you think. Just looking at you seems to incense her even more.

“If I can’t give my father what he wants,” she hisses, “I will lose everything.”

You shrug. “You play dumb games, Kaeda, and you win dumb prizes.”

“And what of the games you play? Word on the street is you’ve been cozying up to the High Lord. Does Azriel know just how far you’re willing to take it?”

If she’s trying to strike a nerve, it works. You try not to let it show as you straighten your back, hold your head up high. You may not be a seasoned schemer like she so clearly is, but your actions as of late are nothing to scoff at.

“Azriel knows,” you say, “that I am doing what I have to in order to stop your father destroying Illyria as we know it.”

“My father is trying to help Illyria—”

“Your father is power hungry and wants nothing more than to rule Illyria. Anyone can see that. And he’s using you to do it.”

“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing.”

A laugh breaks from you. “I know a great deal more than you do. And I know that if your father gets what he wants — and that’s a big if, because I will do whatever I have to to stop him — he will drop you so fucking fast, Kaeda—”

In the blink of an eye, she’s moving, and you’re suddenly slammed against the wall, her fingers wrapped around your throat. Her perfectly manicured nails bite into your skin as she squeezes.

“I didn’t come here to listen to your bullshit. It’s all steeped in jealousy, anyway, because my father actually loves me.”

“Your father,” you choke out, “needs you, Kaeda. He doesn’t love you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” She repeats, slamming you against the wall. Her hand squeezes your throat harder, tighter. “And stay out of the High Lord’s head. This is a warning. You do not want to cross me—”

Air punches your lungs so suddenly that you don’t even register the fact that Kaeda is ripped off of you. You slide down the wall, coughs shuddering from you, spotty vision just catching the way dark shadows snake out and launch the female across the room.

Azriel doesn’t even move from the spot he winnowed to. His shadows do all the work, shoving Kaeda against the opposite wall and pinning her there.

“This is a warning,” he intones quietly, dangerously, “that if you ever touch so much as a hair on Y/N’s head ever again, I will fucking destroy you and take great delight in doing so. Do you understand?”

Kaeda says nothing. Merely tries to fight against those shadows that only tighten the more she struggles. Az takes a step closer.

“We’ll attend your father’s little ball and face whatever he’s planning head-on.” His face is a sheet of icy rage. “But if you think we won’t retaliate, you’re sorely mistaken. It’s not too late to switch sides, Kaeda, and you’d be wise to do so before things really get out of hand.”

“Oh, fuck you—”

A shadow snaps out, and you can only watch in quiet horror — and delight — as it forges itself into a weapon that slices the skin of Kaeda’s cheek. Draws blood.

“I do not mess around where my loved ones are concerned, and you’ll do well to remember that.” Azriel watches with indifference as the blood trickles down. “You will never come for Y/N again. Won’t even look at her, in fact. Do you understand?”

The shadow-knife-sword-thing that cut her cheek now sits precariously at her neck. She tries to move, but her arms are bound to her sides. She’s backed into a corner and well and truly knows it.

“Don’t make me ask you a third time.” Az says.

“…Yes.” Kaeda grits out as the shadow presses against her neck. “I understand.”

And just like that, upon Azriel’s command, those shadows are loosening their grip on the redhead female, letting her go. She releases a staggered breath.

“You’ll regret this.” She seethes, pushing away from the wall. “Both of you will.”

She disappears before either of you have a chance to respond. All you can do is watch and watch those incredible shadows — watch as instead of returning to Azriel, they swim through the air, over to you. Their cool, gentle touch brushes the skin of your neck.

“My love,” Az is kneeling at your side, and he, too, brushes your neck. “I should have known. I’m sorry—”

You don’t allow the needless apology to linger between you — not as you reach out and pull Azriel into a heavy, heated kiss. It seems to knock him speechless for a moment, before he’s gripping your face and kissing you back.

And that kiss says everything. Tells him that you will not be intimidated out of loving him, out of wishing for a future with him. You will not stop until you get it.

You kiss him and kiss him until you’re both gasping for breath, your lips swollen and a little tender from the exertion. When you finally break away, just enough to meet his gaze, question swims in his hazel eyes. He wants to know what you’re thinking.

“We’re going to destroy them.” You promise breathlessly, pecking him once. “We’re going to stop them before they can stop us.”

He nods vigorously, hair falling into his eyes. “Yes.” He pecks you back, quick. “We are.”

“We’re going to tear them apart.” Another kiss, two, three — growing in desperation with each one. “Limb from limb.”

Your love, your heart, your soul, does not answer you with words. But rather, he answers by meeting your fire, your intensity.

His mouth captures yours again, and he’s scooping you up into his arms. And with the promise of a future lingering on both your lips and his, he lays you down and moulds his body to yours, exactly where this all first started.

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A week later — the night of the ball — you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You can’t help wondering if…if you wouldn’t have been able to pull off this dress a mere few months ago. If this garment is only to be worn by the person you’ve grown into. It’s like seeing it for the first time all over again. Its glimmering beauty knocks words straight from your mind until you can only gape at yourself.

You are beautiful. You are brave. You are strong. You are capable.

The gown, the makeup, your hair…it only encourages you. Encourages you to be the kind of person who whispers honeyed words and brings High Lords to their knees.

As if right on cue, the door inches open behind you. Fin strolls in and stops a few steps away. Stares at you.

You meet his gaze in the mirror, and your coy expression is not for show. He picked out everything about your appearance. You want it to be pleasing for him.

And his will certainly be pleasing for anyone who claps eyes on him. The blue of his tailored suit matches the blue of your dress. He looks resplendent, regal, kingly — a High Lord through and through.

He seems to remember how to walk, how to talk. He blinks out of his daze, and his feet are moving again, carrying him closer to you. He stops just behind you, his body more or less pressed against yours.

“You—” He clears his throat, shaking his head. “You are a vision. I think I might be lost for words.”

Your painted lips curl upwards. “I imagine that doesn’t happen very often.”

“No,” he agrees. “It does not.”

He falls silent, his eyes drinking in your reflection, and you allow him the time to do so. If he’s aware of your trembling, he doesn’t let it show.

“You are a vision, too.” You tell him, watching as his eyes flick up to yours in the mirror. “Truly.”

His smile is, perhaps, a rare one. One so few people get to see. It gives away the softer side to him that you genuinely believe exists. The one that takes the compliment to heart.

But then his expression sobers, and he’s closing the minuscule gap between your bodies — pressing his front to your back and allowing his chin to drop to your shoulder. You try not to tense.

“Where the ball is being held,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating through you, “The Hewn City — Morrigan’s home…she calls it the Court of Nightmares.”

You’ve heard of it, of course. Its callous residents. And you would have happily never paid it a visit. But…needs must, and all that.

“I’ve heard it’s not the most pleasant of places.” You say, standing still against the warm hand that brushes your hip. “Is that why you don’t want Roza there while she’s pregnant?”

Fin hums in response. An agreeing noise. “Partially.” He concurs, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “But also because of what tonight will be.”

Your two reflections lock gazes with an intensity that turns your blood cold. “What will tonight be?”

The High Lord takes a moment to answer. He continues to stare at you, all the while stroking a thumb over the curve of your hip.

“Tonight, Y/N, will be one for the history books.” He eventually answers, and another kiss falls onto your shoulder. “Of that, I can assure you.”

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl @mybestfriendmademe

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar series #azriel fanfiction #azriel smut #azriel fanfic #reader insert #illyrians #rhysand #cassian

[atinyniki]

atelophobia.

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!bangchan x f!reader x idol!lee felix

genre: angst, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, proposals, insecurities, crying, mentions of sex but no smut, suggestive jokes, lots of kissing, y/n is neglected

authors note: omggg my first fic for the 'making @miuracha happy' event !!! i really hope you love it <3 this fic really spoke to me because i guess... its just people being people. relationships have problems, but communication is so so important in order to keep it alive ! this has a happy ending, dw... this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 1771

atelophobia - the fear of imperfection.

“baby? we’re home!”

you quickly check the time from the clock above the stove, cursing yourself for not finishing earlier and rushing to the door to greet them. “hey loves…”, you smile tiredly. they share a look before wrapping you in a hug, dirtying their clothes from the contact with your messy apron.

you relax in their warmth for a bit… its been a long day. “missed you, my baby…”, chan whispers. felix hums in agreement from your side, leaving tender kisses across your cheekbones. they finally pull away from you, and you assess the damage done to their clothes.

you don’t mean to make your frown so noticeable, but it’s inevitable. “what's wrong love?”

before you can answer, you crouch down and use your hands to dust off the rice flour from their clothes, apologizing profusely for ruining them. the truth is, recently, it’s felt like you’ve only made things worse for everyone. it’s thrown you into this bad mental state, thinking that your boyfriends deserve so much better.

“hey, it’s really not a big deal. we’re gonna wash up soon anyways, yeah?”, felix shoots you a tired smile.

you nod, standing back up and smiling sheepishly. “um… dinner will be ready soon. it should be done by the time you’re out.”

the both of them nod, making their way into the bedroom and then the bathroom. you rush back to the kitchen to check on the tteok, but you frown once you realize you must have boiled it for too long. the rice cakes look a little too mushy, but you hope that it’ll taste good in the tteokbokki.

about ten minutes later, you hear the two giggle as they walk into the living room. “gosh, i thought you’d have more stamina baby…”

he rolls his eyes playfully, placing another kiss onto chan’s lips. regularly, you’d be happy about it. it’s nice to have a loving relationship and be able to see their love progress alongside them, but the sight of them now makes your heart clench. 

it’s different now than it was a week ago. you feel undesirable, unwanted. why can’t you ever be intimate with them? why don’t they kiss you like that? the questions run through your mind at a sickening pace, and it takes everything in you not to cry.

chan turns his head to look at you, but you look away before he notices you staring. “gosh what are you making? i’m hungry as hell…”, he giggles.

“i’m sorry… it’s taking longer than i expected”, you mumble out. felix is the first to notice your uneasiness. “no y/n, i think he just meant… because it smells so good, you know? don’t apologize, there’s no need to rush, yeah?”

you nod, smiling at him and turning back to the pot of simmering tteok. only a couple minutes go by and you’ve plated all the food nicely, setting their meals down onto the kitchen table. “food’s ready!”

the boys rush to the table, smiling once they’ve seen the food. it pushes you further to your breaking point, seeing them smile so widely at the food, but never at you. you regularly don’t need constant reassurance, but right now it feels as if everything’s breaking apart in front of you.

to make things worse, they sit opposite to you around the small circular table. your body seems to be betraying you, your bottom lip slightly quivering, and you quickly bite it to hide your pain.

they each take a bite of their food, quickly eating due to their hunger. you smile at their eagerness, finding their puffy cheeks adorable, until you see their faces go red.

“oh my gosh… what did you put in this?”, chan asks incredulously. he obviously doesn’t mean it in a rude way, but it seems that way due to everything else that’s been going on.

“i- im sorry…”, you whisper.

you pour him some more water, and refill felix’s too. “it’s so fucking— augh —spicy!”, felix groans.

“i’m sorry.”, your voice gets even quieter with every apology, the tears brimming in your eyes. “i can’t even eat this…”

“i said i’m sorry!”, you yell.

and you break.

the tears brim over your lash line, now spilling over your cheeks, and the boys finally look up from their plates and at you. the way their cheeks are filled with water makes them look incredibly stupid, and yet it doesn’t make you laugh like it normally does.

instead, you cry even harder, knowing that you’ve put them in pain. you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to show how truly vulnerable you are.

“baby…”, chan gasps out. the two of them stand up, immediately rushing to your side. the burn of their tongue can’t even compare to the pain in their heart at this moment.

“my pretty girl… what’s wrong?”, felix coos at you. you shake your head, “i’m okay, i’m sorry…”

you feel chan’s breath ghost over your neck while he whispers in your ear. “can i touch you?”

you nod, and you’re immediately picked up by chan and set down onto the couch in felix’s lap. “what’s wrong, love? did we do something wrong?”

“i just… i don’t know. i guess the feelings have been there for a while now, but it’s never gotten this bad.”, you sigh out. the boys share concerned looks, only making you want to cry even more.

“i’m fine, really. i don’t need to be babie—“

“tell me what’s wrong, y/n.”

“chan i- it’s not that simple… there’s a lot.”

you hear felix sniffle from above you, and you pry your eyes open to look at him. you feel upset, yes, but nothing would prepare you for this guilt. “how long?”, he rasps out.

“what?”

“how long have you felt like this? you don’t have to keep it from us… you can tell us everything…”

“i just…”, you sigh, covering your face again. chan grabs your wrist loosely, running his lips over your knuckles. “don’t hide from us, baby, please… tell us what’s going on.”, chan begs.

“i just… i don’t feel like your girlfriend anymore… i just feel like a roommate that you occasionally kiss at this point. you and lix have been out so much more than usual and you… you never bring me anywhere. i just want to be loved… i want to cook with you guys… and i want to sit next to you while we eat. i want to be intimate with you like you are with eachother… and i know that sounds crazy… but i just feel so… out of the loop.”

“y/n… that’s not—“

“felix… please… i just- just a little love is all i ask for… hold me, hug me, spend time with me… just don’t make me feel invisible.”

“i… i’m so sorry…”, he whispers. you open your eyes to stare at chan, who’s basically bowing on the floor, looking away from you so that you can’t see the pain in his eyes. 

“there’s no reason to—“, before you can finish, he pulls you up from his lap to wrap you in a hug.

“there's a reason, y/n. you don’t deserve that from anyone… and definitely not from your boyfriends. you mean the world to us, you really do… we were just… dealing with some things.”

“then tell me felix! i don’t mind that you two love eachother of course, i want you to. i want you to be in love with eachother and care for eachother but i just want to be in the picture. so tell me… am i still in the picture?”

“you will always be in the picture, my love…”, you hear chan whisper from beside you.

you turn your head towards him, and you almost jump when you see the dark red velvet box. his head is hung low in shame, and all you can hear from felix and chan are harsh sobs.

he flicks open the box, the three gorgeous trio rings glimmering in the light. “chan i- i—“, felix interrupts you before you can even get another word out.

“we wanted to make it special for you… that’s why we were out so much… so excited and happy all the time. it’s because of you.”

your voice gets caught in your throat, your tears suddenly fading away. the weight on your heart seems to be lifted, and yet it’s like these two are acting like the entire world is falling apart.

but that’s because it is. you’re their entire world, and they’ve hurt you. “we don’t need a special proposal, y/n. we just need you… so what do you say?”

felix pushes you up closer to his back so that you can feel his heartbeat against it. “will you marry us?”

you clamp a hand around your mouth, trying your best to suppress your sobs, but you can’t. you nod frantically, unable to say any words. nothing could have prepared you for this moment.

chan slides the silver band onto your finger, leaning over to kiss away your tears. “oh baby… don’t cry…”

“i- i didn’t mean to ruin it… i’m sorry.”

“you don’t have to apologize, my love. i’m sorry for putting you through so much pain.”

chan finally makes space for himself on the couch, pulling your legs over his lap. he lightly strokes them up and down, felix threads his fingers through your hair. all of a sudden, your stomach starts rumbling, eliciting giggles from the boys.

“you hungry baby? we can go back and eat”, chan smiles.

“i’ll just make something else… it won’t be too long, i—“

“baby, listen. it doesn’t taste bad i swear… it’s just… so spicy.”

he kisses over your eyelids, trying his best to soothe you. “it’s okay…”

“hey… we love you, you know that right?”

“i love you both too…”

you hum in satisfaction at the feeling of their hands on you. even when it’s not in a sexual way, there’s something so grounding about their touch. “eat later… i missed you guys”

“awh baby… you’re so cute. i guess we can wait a bit, yeah?”, felix coos. you lean up to leave a peck in his cheek. a simple gesture, and yet it’s so innocently sweet. 

chan leans over to swipe another tear away from your cheek, and that’s when you know you’re okay. they care about you. you don’t have to be perfect for them to love you. they want you for the person you are and nothing else. 

and you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with them.

<3

#atinyniki #we love you miu <3 #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #lee felix #bangchan #felix x reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan angst #felix angst #bangchan x y/n #felix x y/n #felix fluff #bangchan fluff #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #bangchan x felix #chanlix x reader #chanlix angst #chanlix fluff #chanlix x y/n

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 24 (Tender Sex)

Night's Cavalry x Male!reader

You look back as you walk down the Mistwoods.

Yep, he's still there. The Night's Cavalry Rider, Beor.

How do you know his name?

Because he wrote it down on a scrap of scroll and placed it on your face as you slept for you to find in the morning. Said note also contained a love letter professing his love.

Simp.

You sigh as you keep walking. He's been following you ever since he knocked your helmet off your head during battle. The thing that bothers you most is that he's out of his Lord's territory. You're fairly certain Margit didn't allow his men to travel this far out. You wonder if hes disobeying orders by following you all the way out here.

The moon rises over the land as you decide to make camp. You set up a bedroll and make a fire. You sigh as you hold your hands out to warm them up.

As you sat by the heat of the campfire, you couldn't help but feel uneasy knowing someone was watching. You glance around, trying not to be too obvious, and spot Beor hiding behind a nearby tree.

Damn it, dude! Just come out already!

You roll your eyes and turn away, deciding to ignore him for now. After all, he hasn't done anything harmful yet... just really creepy.

Suddenly, something hit your head. It's a crumbled ball of paper. you picked it up and turned to glare at Beor, who had quickly hidden behind a tree after throwing it. You straighten out the note.

The message read: 'I can't take my eyes off you.'

Good Gods. You had to do something.

Sighing heavily, you called out to Beor, "Alright... Come sit with me." You then added sternly, "But don't be creepy!"

Reluctantly, Beor approached slowly, almost like a timid animal. Once he reached you, he hesitantly took a seat across the fire from you. His entire demeanor reeked of nervousness.

Relaxing slightly, you began rummaging through your bag, searching for some jerky. However, you soon noticed Beor shifting closer to you, his posture tense as he tried to act casually. When you looked up, he was caught red handed, his gaze darting away guiltily.

This guy...

Going back to rummaging through your bag, you finally found what you were looking for – jerky! With a satisfied grin, you lifted your head, only to be startled by Beor practically breathing down your neck. He must have moved while you weren't paying attention.

Startled, you let out an undignified yelp and dropped the food. The jerky lands on some mud. You look at the jerky, to Beor, to the jerky, and finally back to Beor.

Both of you stared at each other silently before he leaned forward and grabbed the dropped jerky, which was now covered in mud. Hesitating for a brief moment, he held it out towards you.

You shook your head and sighed. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Trying to regain composure, you turn back to the crackling fire, hoping to ignore him. To your annoyance, Beor continued to scoot closer until your bodies pressed together.

Awkward silence hung heavy between you two.

Feeling movement against your side, you glanced over to see Beor holding out his closed fist. Curiosity piqued, you watched as he opened his palm, revealing a Miquella's Lily that had been crushed beyond recognition. Wordlessly, he motioned for you to take it.

Without thinking much of it, you accepted the gift.

Inspecting the fragile petals of the delicate flower, you couldn't help but feel touched by such a rare gesture. Although it was crushed, it still held significance. You brought the bloom close to your nose, savoring its faint fragrance.

Silence stretched between you again as Beor simply watched you appreciate his offering.

Nodding to yourself, you carefully place the crushed Miquella's Lily inside your bag for safekeeping. The silence returned, making you uncomfortable enough to break it.

"You can have..." You paused, feeling embarrassed at your own words. "...One kiss."

Beor tensed up and immediately started nodding vigorously, his helmet producing loud clanks with every enthusiastic movement.

Groaning internally, you prepared yourself for whatever was coming next. Beor eagerly closed the gap between you, anticipating his reward.

"Aren't you going to remove the helmet?" You asked curiously.

In response, he shook his head forcefully. Guess that means the helmet stays on.

Shrugging it off, you decided to leave his choice alone. Leaning closer, you press a soft kiss onto his helmet where his cheek would be. Instinctively, his hand clenched so tightly that you could hear the leather of his gauntlet creak under the strain. You pull away.

Good Gods, all you did was give him a peck on the helmet, and this was his reaction? No wonder he acted so skittish; he definitely was whipped for you.

Deciding to test how far you could push him, you leaned in again, this time tracing a line along his helmet with your tongue. Beor visibly trembled, accompanied by a muffled groan from within his helmet.

Oh dear, this man was putty in your hands.

Unfortunately for you, your actions didn't leave you completely unaffected either. Feeling your own arousal building, you felt your member hardening within your pants. Blushing profusely, you tried to reason with yourself.

"I know I said just a kiss," you started hesitantly, "...but..."

At the sound of your voice, Beor's head snapped in your direction, desperate to catch whatever suggestion you may have for him.

Letting out an exaggerated groan, you tried to continue, "You know..."

To your utter mortification, Beor pointed directly at his crotch, seemingly confirming whether that was indeed what you wanted. Covering your face with your hands, you berated yourself for getting into this situation.

Fuck it. You raised your head and gave him a decisive nod.

Beor seemed ecstatic at your response, eagerly beginning to remove his protective codpiece. Underneath, his cock stood proudly erect, ready for action. With a deep blush spreading across your features, you followed suit, taking off your pants and underwear. Your own manhood sprang forth, mirroring Beor's excitement.

Eager to get things started, Beor laid flat on his back, slapping his armored thighs invitingly as if asking you to climb aboard.

Rolling your eyes, you muttered, "You're an idiot," before complying with his request. Straddling Beor, you could feel his hardened length pressing against your ass.

Lifting yourself up slightly, you slammed back down onto Beor's lap, eliciting a muffled groan from within his helmet.

"You better be gentle," you warned him. In response, Beor nodded his head furiously, the clinking of metal echoing throughout the campsite.

Leaning to the side, you retrieved your bag, pulling out a small container of oil created from melted mushrooms. Resting on Beor's chest, you reached back and took hold of his throbbing member, liberally applying the slippery substance all over it.

Beor released a muffled moan as you positioned his lubricated tip at your entrance. With a deep breath, you pushed downwards, impaling yourself on his rigid length.

Letting out a soft moan, you sank deeper and deeper onto Beor's impressive girth. "Fuck, you're so big," you muttered, unable to believe how well he filled you up.

Meanwhile, Beor was clearly enjoying himself, his head thrown back as he panted heavily and trembled with pleasure.

Upon fully sheathing himself within you, Beor let out a low whine of delight. You sighed contentedly, feeling both their combined weight bearing down on you.

Before you could react, Beor shifted positions, wrapping his arms securely around you as he sat up. Now, instead of riding him, you were nestled within his embrace.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head against his cool, metallic chest, reveling in the sensation of being enveloped by him. Softly, he ran his hands up and down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

Gradually, Beor began to move within you, maintaining a slow, steady rhythm. Making sure to support your weight, he kept you cradled in his arms as his helmet nuzzled against your face.

Moans escaped your lips as Beor thrust into you with a gentleness you hadn't expected from someone so large and intimidating. You rubbed your aching cock against the smooth metal of his armored abdomen.

As he continued to plunge into you, Beor rubbed his helmet against your face affectionately, reminding you of a cat seeking comfort from its owner. Simultaneously, one of his hands found yours, entwining your fingers together as if they belonged there.

Whimpering as you neared release, you bucked your hips harder against Beor's armor, leaving streaks of precum.

"Sorry....your armor," you apologized sheepishly for making a mess on his black armor.

However, Beor didn't seem bothered by it at all – if anything, he appeared more amused than upset. Using his free hand, he gently petted your head reassuringly, letting you know that he didn't mind.

Reassured by his response, you wrapped one hand around his hip while using the other to resume stroking your own needy erection. Precum continued to flow freely, coating Beor's armor in a sticky film.

Beor released a pleased noise from within his helmet, picking up the pace ever so slightly as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly.

With a whiny cry, you finally succumbed to your release, splattering Beor's armor with thick ropes of semen. As your orgasm subsided, he gently rubbed your back.

Now that you had cum, it was Beor's turn. Still buried deep within you, he reached behind his back and removed his cape from his armor. Carefully laying it on the ground, he leaned forward until you were lying on top of it.

For a moment, Beor held your thighs aloft, offering them a brief yet comforting massage. And then, without warning, he suddenly changed tactics, pounding into you mercilessly. Unprepared for such ferocity, you cried out in surprise, your moans matching the speed of his brutal thrusts. Holding your thighs tightly, he showed no signs of stopping or easing up.

Still not letting up, Beor pressed your thighs together and rolled you onto your side. From this new angle, he somehow managed to increase the intensity of his relentless pumping, driving his cock deepr into you.

The air filled with the sounds of his labored breathing and the wet squelching of flesh meeting flesh as he continued to claim you.

As the tempo increased, you could do little more than issue a series of whimpers and mews, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your veins. Beor took full advantage of your vulnerable state, leaning over to pin you down with his considerable bulk as he pressed his helmet against your face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuccckk!" you cried out, unable to contain your mounting euphoria. Every forceful impact of armor against flesh sending fire down your body in waves.

Beor reached his breaking point. With a guttural grunt, he drove himself all the way home, his warm seed flooding your hole. Wrapped in his strong arms, you basked in the afterglow of your shared release.

Breathing heavily, you allowed Beor to nuzzle your face with his helmet.

"You're still a simp," you muttered sleepily, too exhausted to muster up any real zingers.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

#elden ring x tarnished #elden ring headcanons #elden ring x reader #elden ring #night's cavalry #knight kink #knight x reader #knights #armor kink #mask kink #masked men #tenderness #tender sex #scumtober 2023 #scumtober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #male reader #male!reader

[llondonfog]

also made myself sick turning around and around the idea of lilia & silver making the journey to wild rose castle after the events of ch7

the sight it must be— the imposing veil of vines draped like an ironclad curtain over the silent castle walls; the way they yield for silver like a beloved pet upon his approach, curling away from their prince's touch lest he prick his fingers upon their thorns

how silver might hesitate at the gate, staring out at the path his mother must have walked to greet her returning knight; the same grim path his father took to leave behind his family for the last time, a path that held the footsteps of fleeing innocents and rabid conquerors. (lilia squeezes his hand without a word— the castle yearns for its prince, after all.)

the thought of the two of them picking their way through the tomb-like halls; lilia remembering a time when fae voices rang loud and clear, silver staring at the very walls themselves as if to wring from them forgotten memories. there are portraits lining their steps, faded and dim in the cool shade— they depict both nobility and scenery of great battles long past, and silver half fears the golden strokes caught in their paint. if he stares at them for too long, he wonders if they might absorb him entirely, a creature of the past left to linger on this earth far beyond his time.

i just want them to discover silver's cradle still standing where lilia left it all those years ago, with the very blanket silver's mother tucked around him still folded inside. for silver to brush a hand over the thrones where his mother and father might have once sat, for lilia to watch his son with stolen breath and glimpse a mirage— the phantom of meleanor in all her glory upon the dais, a glimmer of a crown upon silver's head. things that once were, ought to have been, and will never be.

and it kills me to think about how heartbreakingly tender it would be for them to both discover silver's nursery. the rooms where the knight and leia had so joyously decorated in preparation for their newborn son, their baby prince, the light of their life. the stuffed toys, now slumped and worn by time; the once colorful paint and plush bedding faded and moth-eaten. for lilia to pick up a carving knife and a half-finished wooden block, and be struck (for the hundredth, thousandth time) with the tragedy of war. of a man who would never be a father, of a family that would never realize peace.

i just want them to both sit in that room, surrounded by the eternal, aching love of silver's parents, and have that long, painful conversation about lilia's past and their present— unknowingly watched by the ghosts of a woman who creeps close to hold her child the only way that she can, and a man who lays a hand upon his once-enemy's shoulder, finding forgiveness at last after four hundred years.

#twst spoilers #this is where i wanted oldstones to go #and then it took a sharp left turn and is languishing in my wip folder #anyways just thoughts with nowhere to go #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #diasomnia

[blissfullyapillow]

‧₊˚ ┊When the Stars Embrace the Moon 

♡⸝⸝ Makoto Yuki x gn reader 

♡⸝⸝ wc: 2,413~

𝄞 ‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ Song inspiration: Tek It I End of Beginning I Ghost I When the Moon’s Reaching Out Stars I 

♡⸝⸝ Warnings: Angst with a happy ending & depictions/implications of intense feelings of grief. Major Persona 3 Reload, Persona 3 FES, and Persona 3 FES: The Answer ending spoilers. Also mildly spoils some character stories regarding Persona 4 Arena and Persona 4 Arena Ultimax. I wrote this with Persona 3 FES in mind as I have no intention of playing Persona 3 Reload.

♡⸝⸝ Pillow Talks: This is what happens when you get too emotionally attached to a fictional character lol. The way this ends is not only my way to cope (lol) but because it’s heavily implied in Persona 4 Arena, as well as Persona 4 Ultimax, that Elizabeth is doing something that will result in a change. In PersonaQ (I have yet to finish it), even Margaret knows something will occur regarding Elizabeth but she must refrain from speaking of it. It is unknown whether this will result in Minato coming back, and of course many have mixed feelings on if he did come back and how that would impact the meaning behind his death. I’m interested to see what Atlus has planned regarding Elizabeth (after they make their 10th Persona 5 spin-off). Personally, Minato is my favorite fictional character of all time so I want him to come back. Anyway, I digress; I hope you enjoy. <3

♡⸝⸝ P.S: I have to clarify I made a magnificent reference to my fav song from Persona 3 FES, “When the Moon’s Reaching Out Stars” with the line, “It soars to the sky, to cast its adoring gaze to the moon as it rests amongst the stars. 

Masterlist

A warm hand intertwined with mine.

The blazing sun bathes his figure in an ethereal glow as beautiful pink petals fall from the trees above.

Yet the ephemeral scene fails to capture my attention; I fear my hands are sweaty and it’ll only be a moment before he takes notice.

A subtle glance his way is all it takes for me to capture his attention. Albeit one eye is obscured by his bangs, the tender emotion that lies dormant within his irises comes alive as they meet mine.

He’s silent, an action that isn’t unusual for him. Despite this, the vibrant sounds of life swarm around us and fill my ears with an everlasting ethereal tune. His hand squeezes mine, so softly it’s almost imperceptible.

My lips betray my trust as they curl upwards, and my voice divulges my secrets as an elated giggle escapes its confines.

His voice follows suit; our voices intermingle to create a melodious harmony that turns the heads of passerby. 

The air smells of cherry blossoms and hope. Hope that we carry together, kept safe between our pressed palms.

The air around us stirs with a subtle whoosh.

♪ ♫ 

This is a fond memory of mine.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ ☽ ๋࣭ ⭑❀˖°

He rolls his eyes.

I pinch his nose.

He frowns.

I smile.

“Will you two get a room already?” A familiar voice rebounds off the walls of the dorm, and our companion voices his agreement.

“Yeah, you two can be pretty insufferable when you act like this.” My eyes turn to glare at said companion to find his lips wearing a mischievous grin. “Just like you and Chidorita?” My smug comment alights his face in a burning flame, and Yukari fails to stifle her amused laughter.

“Yeah yeah, laugh while you can now!” Junpei’s voice echoes around the room. “Your face is as red as Chidori’s hair, Junpei-san. Do you need medical attention?” Aegis monotone voice drifts into our ears.

Obnoxious laughter follows from everyone in the room.

Excluding Junpei, who huffs in annoyance before storming upstairs. There’s no doubt that he’s sulking in his room.

I finally return my gaze to my favorite portrait, to resume admiring its beauty.

However, the painting now stares back at me, a  tender (find synonym) expression etched onto its features.

My heart skips a beat, similar to the way children skip as they play hopscotch.

His smile reflects the warmth in my heart; it’s an outward reflection of the love that fills my soul, only to pour from my fingertips with every gentle caress against his skin.

This memory moves me to tears.

These tears stain his used pillowcase, the one I have yet to wash since his scent desperately clings to the fabric.

I miss him.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ ☽ ๋࣭ ⭑❀˖°

Koromaru barks as he runs ahead. I glance at him beside me, his hands stuffed faithfully in his pockets.

It’s a chilly night, but the cool wind makes me feel alive. It roots me to the present moment, and for that I’m grateful.

“Yuki…”

Leisurely, he lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine.

I hold his gaze, and he makes no effort to break away.

“I love you.”

The words escape my lips in a borderline inaudible whisper, my voice oozing with the love I carry for him deep in my soul.

His eyes widen a fraction, clearly taken aback.

We’ve spent many nights together like this, whether it’s walking koromaru, singing our hearts out at karaoke, or even spending quiet nights studying in the dorm together; my heart has grown to yearn for his presence beside me.

Despite this, I’ve grown fearful of becoming too attached. Makoto isn’t someone familiar with emotions like these, not from what I’ve gathered from the time we’ve spent together.

Although.. These past few months I’ve seen a change within him. A slow one, like two friends who yearn to confess to each other but remain paralyzed with fear of rejection.

It’s a change that presents itself in his smile, the laughter he fails to hold back at our antics, the concern that’s etched in his furrowed brow when one of our teammates gets knocked down in Tartarus.

It’s a beautiful change. It’s grown to be something I want to protect.

Yet, my mouth has a mind of its own, and it’s spilled my most precious secret to him.

I wait with bated breath for his response.

Could this be the end of our friendship? Have I just ruined the bond we’ve formed, the bond that has brought color back into my dull world? Will he reject me? Will-

“Close your eyes.” My feet stop moving. I hear Koromaru up ahead, his happy barks indicating he's found something he wants to show us. Yet, my feet remain rooted to the ground.

My body acts on my internalized feelings as my eyes swiftly close shut at his command.

It’s silent.

Time continues to march forward despite my wishes.

As it always does.

This time, it’s in my favor, as I feel a soft pair of lips delicately brush against mine; lonely and yearning.

My hand rests upon his cheek as my heart flutters from my chest.

It soars to the sky, to cast its adoring gaze to the moon as it rests amongst the stars.

My heart is finally home.

just as my physical body feels at home in his arms.

He pulls away, and I open my eyes.

My heart is reflected within his gaze, and the change that I’ve grown fond of presents itself once more; He leans in for another kiss.

Koromaru barks.

The universe embraces me, and it gives me the happiness I’ve always yearned for.

This memory reflects the meaning of eternity; my feelings regarding the term ‘forever.’

This memory will remain.

It will always bring me happiness.

Despite this, he is not here in my arms, as he’s now bound to a door.

To watch over us all, forever; for eternity.

…Will I ever see you again? Why can I no longer press a kiss that furrowed brow? Am I doomed to forget the smile that lights up your features when I walk into a room?

Did I miss the opportunity? To show you how my heart reflects the love you’ve grown to harbor for others?

…The love you’ve grown to harbor for me?

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ ☽ ๋࣭ ⭑❀˖°

I reach out to grasp for his familiar hand, the hand that’s always the first to search for mine when trouble inevitably catches us off guard.

The only thing my hand grasps is air; the other side of my bed is empty.

His scent is fading from the pillow case.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ ☽ ๋࣭ ⭑❀˖°

My cheeks remain wet as memories of him fill me with yearning.

Love and heartbreak wraps me in their firm embrace; I feel their arms squeeze me as they hold me close, my friends’ sobs almost drown out the ringing in my ears.

Memories of school and a radiant blue sky, watching over the rooftop of Gekkoukan High School, refuse to leave my mind.

I’ve never felt such a deep feeling of loss and sorrow before.

That’s not something I can say lightly.

Despite my unique experiences that may deviate from his own, Makoto has been my mirror. My window.

I’ve seen myself reflected in him, time and time again. Yes, I am my own person, but I’ve grown to form a connection with Yuki that I’ve never formed with another in my short lifetime.

Call me crazy, but when I was with Yuki I felt as if our souls intertwined, as if we'd finally found a home together after wandering a desert full of failed commitments and broken promises. All in search of an oasis… in search of trust.

Trust that we found within each other.

I roll over and curl into a tight ball as my emotions threaten to consume me.

A soft knock fails to bring me out of my sorrow.

My ears pick up on the audible click the door makes as it opens, but I refuse to acknowledge whomever is there.

A gentle, cold hand rests on my shoulder.

My body shivers since the cool metal contrasts with my flushed skin.

“I knew I would find you here.” She doesn’t sound concerned. Just knowing.

I can’t respond.

She doesn’t mind.

Her cool hand runs through my hair. They uncurl my body to wipe my tears away.

I’m thankful, yet I’m angry.

I almost don’t want to see her.

She hums; almost as if she’d read my thoughts and she doesn’t care.

I fall asleep to the feeling of cool metal pressed against warm skin.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ ☽ ๋࣭ ⭑❀˖°

My voice sounds like a stranger’s to my ears. I feel awful, horrible for how I’m lashing out at another innocent person whose suffering just as much as I am.

Even so, the words pour viciously from my mouth as she stands across from me.

She doesn’t speak.

Akihiko raises his voice. He sounds just as angry, but for a different reason. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest, but I have to get the words out.

“Why was it you!? We all share a special bond with him, as well as with each other, but you…” A lone tear slides down her robotic features.

It makes me pause. I’m surprised.

But..

I knew all too well that my anger was misdirected.

Aigis doesn’t refute anything I have to say. She silently stands before me, crying.

Aigis, who used to struggle telling apart a joke from a genuine statement. Aigis, who couldn’t comprehend human emotions as a motivating factor behind certain actions and words.

Aigis, who now stands before me experiencing emotions of her own.

Emotions that have led her to tears.. because of my misguided anger towards her.

I swallow down the lump in my throat as I push past Junpei. Akihiko calls for me to return, and I hear Ken make a comment about how awkward and tense the situation is.

I lock myself in his room.

…

No one knocks on the door this time.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ ☽ ๋࣭ ⭑❀˖°

It’s silent.

Everyone’s gathered around. We need to determine what our next course of action is, but there’s an elephant in the room that longs to be addressed.

We’re searching for the answer, and it’s right in front of us; it’s been here all along. The only obstacle in obtaining it lies within our warped perception of the situation.

“You need to apologize-”

“Akihiko-san.”

He visibly falters before awkwardly coughing into his fist. Mitsuru clearly has her own thoughts on the situation, but she’s chosen to remain silent at the moment.

I glance in Ken’s direction, and he gives me an encouraging nod accompanied by a sympathetic smile.

“Aigis, I apologize for my behavior earlier. My anger towards you was misguided and fueled by my… well, it’s more accurate to say our sorrow.. with Yuki’s passing..”

The resulting silence is suffocatingly loud.

It’s presence is overbearing. So much so that I fear we’ll never talk things through.

That is, until Aigis walks over to me.

As her arms wrap around me, a new feeling blossoms in my chest. It swallows the creeping fear inside of me whole, and it fuels an unyielding strength within me.

Hope.

“We will figure this out together. The bonds we have forged amongst each other will not be broken so easily. Don’t you agree…?” Aigis’s words are as soothing as they are motivating.

A quick glance around the room reveals relieved faces and fond smiles.

Unshed tears blur my vision, but these tears do not originate from the sadness that once permeated my very being.

“..Yes.”

It still hurts.

But it feels a bit better now.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ ☽ ๋࣭ ⭑❀˖°

It’s been years now.

I’ve seen Ken grow into a respectable young man. Akihiko is finally pursuing college, with the supervision of Aigis, and Mitsuru continues to be successful in her endeavors. The same can be said of Yukari and Junpei, albeit it’s clear the latter still misses the one who made his heart sing.

Fuuka is doing well too. It makes me happy to see everyone pursuing their individual passions. Including myself.

☀︎❀

Spring has returned.

It’s hot today.

The heat from the burning sun above threatens to lull me to sleep.

My heavy eyelids fall shut as I feel myself drift off to sleep.

His face, encapsulated in stone, drifts to the forefront of my mind.

A heavy sigh leaves me.

My eyes remain dry as I allow the memory to come and go, holding strong all the while.

I miss him, I truly do.

But, through the bonds I’ve made with the former members of S.E.E.S, I’ve cultivated the strength of will to move onward and forward, towards a future I can be proud of.

I open my eyes when I hear footsteps approaching.

The figure standing before me is familiar, yet surely a figment of my imagination.

I close my eyes again, in hopes of fully waking up this time.

I open them once more when I feel the person moving closer to me. I sit up, only to bump heads with them.

“Ouch!” I yelp. My hands cradle the spot where we bumped heads. That’s when I realize, the pain I just felt is real, and the person standing in front of me is…

Is..

My eyes widen dramatically, and my mouth parts to say all the words my soul longs to poetically convey.

He simply smiles.

He opens his arms.

My thoughts spiral out of control. Is this an illusion? How could this be remotely possible? Is this… really true?

When our eyes meet, my questions receive a silent answer. My eyes take notice of the wavering emotions within his gaze; I can see the soul of the man I love, a soul which was once bound to a door, is now standing here before me. 

Whatever miracle performed this action, I am forever grateful to its benevolence. 

I dare not waste another moment in idle contemplation.

I throw myself into his arms. 

He catches me. 

He laughs.

My soul joins in on his joyous laughter, as tears full of love slowly cascade down my cheeks.

Our laughter intermingles to create a melodious harmony that turns the heads of passerby, once more. 

#minato arisato x reader #minato arisato x gn reader #makoto yuki x reader #makoto yuki x gn reader #persona 3 fes x reader #persona 3 fes x gn reader #persona 3 x reader #persona 3 x gn reader #persona 3 reload x gn reader #persona 3 reload x reader #p3 x reader #p3 x gn reader #makoto yuki x you #minato arisato x you #reader insert #persona x reader #persona x gn reader

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 14

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy!Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Implied Smut, Heartbreak, Little bit of Violence.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Felicia relives her heartbreaking past with her ex, Peter Parker AKA Spider-Man. 

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

A/N: Sorry for the late update, holidays and finals have taken us hostage. Enjoy this chapter, I loved writing it! I also recommend listening to the other woman by lana del rey during flashbacks!

New York, Earth-192

Felicia and Miguel sat comfortably on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in the captivating show playing on the television as their minds wandered to the thoughts of each other's lips. She found solace in leaning against Miguel's chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall as he breathed, a comforting and familiar rhythm that reassured her.

The playful touch of his fingers touching the silver strands. As the scenes continued on the screen, Miguel would occasionally plant tender kisses on the crown of Felicia's head, causing her heart to beat faster. Then, with a delicate touch, he would kiss her neck, leaving a trail of affectionate pecks that ignited a spark within her. Each kiss left a tingling sensation in its wake, and Felicia couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

In this intimate moment, the outside world seemed to fade away as they found comfort and love in each other's presence, even if they were doing nothing but simply watching the television. The shared silence spoke volumes about their connection.

Miguel continued his sweet assault on Felicia's neck, listening to her soft gasps and moans, until LYLA's sudden appearance jolted Miguel out of his moment with Felicia. He sighed, reluctantly pulling away from her neck, his attention shifting to the unexpected intrusion.

"What?" Miguel asked, a trace of irritation in his voice.

"I thought you wanted updates," LYLA said, crossing her arms with a no-nonsense expression.

Miguel pressed one last tender kiss to Felicia's lips. "Enjoy your show, Hermosa. I'm going to go in the other room if that's alright."

Felicia nodded and stole one last kiss. "You can go to the gallery. Its the third door down the hall." She gestures with her hand. 

With a smile, Miguel briskly made his way to Felicia's gallery. He opened the French doors, stepping into the room that held breathtaking displays of art. The walls were adorned with some of the most stunning paintings, and practically every inch of the room was covered with canvases. Miguel can’t help but shake his head and smile, imagining all of the Black Cat’s escapades. 

“Miguel.” LYLA interrupts his daydreaming to remind him of her presence. 

“Yeah, sorry, what’s going on at HQ?” Miguel asks as he walks to the desk by the window where a box of newspapers had fallen. 

“One thing has been confirmed, It’s all an inside job.” Miguel sighs, bending over to help clean the mess on the floor. “Miss Drew and I interviewed everyone that works in the Gismo production so see if anyone has been smuggling them. So far, we’ve got nothing there. A little over two months ago there were a few outages in the security cams.”

“That must have been when they retrieved enough to give to the Maggia.” Miguel ponders as he places all of the newspapers back into the box. 

LYLA continues to theorize, but Miguel becomes enchanted by the headings of the newspapers. 

FAMOUS PAINTING: THE SWING, MISSING! NEW YORK’S NEW VILLAN, BLACK CAT?

Several security guards reported a woman in a 

black suit and claws stealing the precious art.  

Miguel chuckles to himself as he looks over his shoulder to where the girl in a pink gown on a swing, hung proudly in the center of the wall. Miguel flips through several more newspapers spanning over the years. As he flips through the various years and headlines staring his Felicia, he stops on one in particular that catches his eye. 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT FIGHT SCORPION

Has the Black Cat changed her ways? 

“LYLA,” Miguel interrupts the AI’s train of thought. “Does Earth-192 have a Spider-Man?”

Taken back by Miguel’s random question, LYLA stops to go through the data in her codes. “Yes. Night-Spider and Spider-Man AKA Felicia Hardy and Peter Parker.” She informs. “Why do you ask?”

“She never mentioned having a Spider-Man.” His brows furrow. 

“According to my records, Peter Parker of Earth-192 sponsored Felicia throughout her training and interview process.” Wanting to know more, Miguel dives back into the box of newspapers. “Whatcha doing there, boss?” LYLA peaks over Miguel’s shoulder with suspicion.

“Just… looking.” He shrugs. 

“You sure you're allowed to do this? Might be a violation of her trust.” LYLA warns. 

“Holy shit.” He muttered as he finds exactly what he is looking for. 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT KISS!

New York’s favorite crime-fighting duo was spotted kissing on the Empire State Building!

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!

Spider-Man and Black Cat take down the sinister six! 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT PREGNANCY?

Is she bloated or pregnant? 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT ENGAGED?

Black Cat seen with diamond ring! Is it from cat burglar days or a special spider? 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT BREAK UP!

Black Cat makes it very clear that it is over!

LYLA and Miguel read each headline in shock. Slowly, Miguel places the stack back into the box, trying to take in the new information. As he takes a step back, Miguel notices a newspaper crumpled on the ground. Hesitantly, he picks it up to read the headline. 

SPIDER-MAN AND NIGHT-SPIDER: NEW YORK’S COUPLE REUNITES WITH A KISS?

After a tragic car crash, the former Black Cat was seen working with Spider-Man and sharing a passionate kiss! 

Refusing to let his scattered mind confuse the situation, Miguel grabs the box, rushing back to Felicia. 

“Felicia,” Miguel calls out, striding down the hall into the living room. 

“Yes, my spide-” Felicia’s smile fades as she recognizes the box he holds. “What are you doing with that?” Her posture straightens to attention. 

Miguel timidly sits on the couch next to Felicia, setting it down between them. “I found this.” 

She sighs, staring at the two Newspapers on the top. “SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!” and “SPIDER-MAN AND NIGHT-SPIDER: NEW YORK’S COUPLE REUNITES WITH A KISS?” 

“Mí Vida.” Miguel brights Felicia out of her dark thoughts as his hand touches hers. “You can tell me.” 

“He was the guy that… kissed me that night- the first night I stayed with you.” Felicia could feel her heartache as memories began to flow filling her mind’s eye. 

“He was the asshole that kissed you!” Miguel shouted, his eyes glowing red with fury. 

Felicia nods. “Peter Parker, the man obsessed with the front page of the Daily Bugle.”

“I just don’t get it,” Miguel becomes baffled by the information. “Peter Parkers aren’t exactly known for being egotistical assholes.”

“He wasn’t always… he was my first love.” 

Freshman Year of College…

Black Cat offered a playful smile from her elevated vantage point, perched on the rooftop as she surveyed the treasures of Tiffany & Co. she planned to rob after nightfall.

"Tiffany's? Again?" Spider-Man couldn't help but express his disapproval. "Can't we fight somewhere else tonight?"

Her melodramatic gasp followed, and she placed a hand over her heart as though she'd been wounded. "I thought we were close enough not to judge each other."

Spider-Man moved closer, nimbly walking along the thin rooftop wall. "When are you going to join me on a real mission and help people?"

Black Cat met his gaze, her sultry tone curling into a teasing purr. "Whenever you decide to take me on a date."

Spider-Man chuckled at her response. "That's not fair. You never say yes."

Black Cat shrugged with a devious grin. "You haven't earned it yet, Spider."

Their flirtatious exchange took a more serious turn as Spider-Man whispered into her ear, "I thought I earned it two nights ago, but I guess I was just a booty call."

Before Black Cat could come up with a witty response, Spider-Man suddenly leaped off the building, swinging down to the street below. Concerned and curious, she hastily followed him, only to discover that he had stopped traffic to allow a family of ducks to cross safely.

It was a simple, lighthearted gesture, but it struck a chord with Felicia. She couldn't help but reconsider her goals and her plans for the night, including her intended heist at Tiffany's. Perhaps she did want to explore the Italian restaurant Spider-Man often raved about.

Junior Year of College…

Felicia's heart raced with excitement as she raced up the steps of the campus lecture hall, leaping into his arms. "Pete!”

"My precious girl," Peter replied with a tenderness in his voice. He showered his girlfriend's face with affectionate kisses as his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"I missed you," Felicia pouted, looking up through her lashes at her dashing boyfriend.

Peter couldn't help but chuckle at her infectious energy. "It's been 8 hours!" he teased, his eyes sparkling with affection as he held her close.

"8 hours is a long time to show you this!" Felicia exclaimed, pulling a newspaper out from behind her back. She bit her lip, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Daily Bugle

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!

"We're New York's favorite couple!" Felicia excitedly whispered, her eyes dancing with enthusiasm as she carefully ensured they wouldn't alert other students. "We were all over international news, babe!"

Peter took the newspaper and inspected the featured photo, which captured the thrilling action of Black Cat and Spider-Man's recent battle against Vulture, Shocker, The Lizard, Sand-Man, and Green Goblin.

"Look how much you've grown, baby," he said, his voice filled with pride and love. "I'm so proud of you. I couldn't have done it without the love of my life."

With those heartfelt words, Peter passionately kissed Felicia on the steps wanting everyone to see how much he loved his Felicia.

Later that night…

"Wanna order takeout to celebrate?" Felicia asked as she playfully traced invisible doodles onto Peter's chest.

"Chinese downstairs?" Peter responded with excitement, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

"Mmhmm!" She confirmed as her fingers continued to dance along his skin.

Peter couldn't help but smile, and he gently pulled Felicia in for a sweet, lingering kiss. "I love you so much," he whispered, his words laden with warmth and devotion.

Felicia giggled her laughter like a cascade of soft chimes, and gracefully slipped out of the bed to put on some clothes. "It shouldn't take long. Why don't you set up a movie and get some drinks ready?" she suggested a playful glint in her eyes.

"Sure, baby," Peter agreed, giving Felicia a playful smack on the ass before she left their cozy studio apartment.

As he reached for his sweatpants, his phone chimed with a message, a notification that displayed a name he hadn't seen in a long time. His heart raced as he read the name, his mind racing with questions and emotions. The air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation, casting a shadow over what had been a tranquil and affectionate moment between him and Felicia.

MJ: Hey, Tiger. It's been quite a while. I caught a glimpse of you and your girlfriend on the news, and you two were nothing short of amazing. I'd love to catch up sometime. Feel free to text me whenever you can. I've missed you <3

Peter: Hey, thanks. I'm just relieved no one got hurt. Missing you too, by the way. How's everything going?

MJ: San Francisco has been chaotic. I can't help but wish I was back home with you. ;)

Peter hesitated, his gaze fixed on his phone, before typing his next message.

Peter: How's your boyfriend?

MJ: I called it quits with him yesterday.

Peter: Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. 

MJ: Don't worry. I'm genuinely happy.

MJ: I just realized that he's nowhere near as spectacular as you, Spider-Man ;)

Peter: Haha... Thanks. You're remarkable yourself too.

MJ: I'll be moving back after college next year. Perhaps we can reconnect?

Peter: Yeah, I'd really like that.

MJ: Can't wait to catch you on the news, Tiger. ;)

Peter's fingers danced over the phone screen as he exchanged messages with MJ. The nostalgia of their conversation filled him with a mix of emotions – a bittersweet blend of longing and fond memories. He couldn't help but smile to himself, lost in the exchange of words that felt like a breath of fresh air from his past.

"Dinner!" Felicia's cheerful voice broke through his daydreams as she walked into their cozy apartment, holding two plastic bags filled with takeout. Her vibrant enthusiasm clashed with the introspective mood that had overtaken Peter. "You didn't set anything up," she remarked, her smile slightly faded, but still optimistic.

Peter quickly wiped the smile from his face, placing his phone down as he returned to the present moment. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, the weight of his previous conversation still lingering in his mind.

"It's okay, Spider. Everything alright?" Felicia inquired, her concern evident as she placed the bags of food on the small table by the window.

Peter managed to put on a smile, though the warmth that usually danced in his eyes was absent. "Never better." 

Today…

Felicia's gaze was distant as she stared at the black and white print of the newspaper. "After that," she continued, "he became utterly fixated on the limelight. It was like he couldn't get enough of it." Her fingers absently traced patterns on the paper, betraying the weight of those memories. "He'd pose for every picture, he became obsessed with his physique, and took on the most outrageous stunts," she sighed, the words laden with both disgust and disappointment.

The room fell into a contemplative silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the city filtering in through the window. Miguel scooted closer to Felicia, letting her fall into his arms so that he could hold her. Then, she added, her voice lower, "He hooked up with MJ the very day she returned to New York." The words hung in the air, heavy with the knowledge of a romance that had played out in the public eye, and the impact it had on Felicia's relationship with the man in question. “Took me a bit to find out though.” 

2 Weeks after Graduation…

The apartment was immaculate, as Felicia desired to surprise Peter on their special date night. Freshly cut flowers from the rooftop garden adorned the living space, their fragrant aroma mingling with the alluring scent of Felicia's new French perfume, filling the apartment with an ambiance of romance and elegance. She dressed in Peter’s favorite black dress with elegant make-up and sat on the fire escape of their cozy apartment, a hint of anticipation in her demeanor. She occupied herself by meticulously manicuring her nails, her signature black nail polish to match her attire. As the minutes ticked by, Peter's absence stretched to over an hour and a half, causing Felicia to be more engrossed in her nail care routine while the anticipation gradually turned into concern. 

As the clock marked the two-hour milestone and Felicia's attempts at contacting Peter remained fruitless, her growing concern turned into determination. She decided to take matters into her own hands, donning her iconic Black Cat suit. With her agile and graceful movements, she swung out into the vibrant New York night, visiting the locations Peter frequently frequented in the hopes of finding him.

While gliding through the cityscape, the distinct sound of Peter's hearty laughter reached her ears, piercing through the bustling nightlife. Guided by this familiar echo, Felicia zeroed in on an apartment. With her newfound spider-powers, she stealthily crawled along the brick wall. Her cat-like finesse allowed her to peer inside the cluttered room, where she spotted Peter seated on a couch. Tears glistened in his eyes as he burst into laughter, the intensity of his amusement visible through the window. The sight both relieved her and piqued her curiosity, as she wondered what had brought such joy to her often absentminded boyfriend. Adjusting her angle, she finds the source in her blind spot. 

Felicia's heart plummeted and an overwhelming feeling of nausea washed over her as she beheld the scene before her. Watching MJ in her underwear, return to the couch with two glasses of wine, a million thoughts raced through her mind. She knew she couldn't let Peter see how he had just shattered her world.

With a heavy heart and a sense of devastation, Felicia glided back to the apartment, her swift, graceful movements belying the turmoil within. She hastily packed her belongings, leaving no trace of her presence behind. The only place she could run to was the secret penthouse at the Plaza that her father left her. It was dusty as she had mainly used to store her stolen valuable jewelry and artwork. Previously, she was content with the idea of living a humble life with Peter, but life had different plans for her.

After moving everything out of her, now, old apartment, Felicia found herself on her rooftop of the Plaza, finally alone with her thoughts. It was the first time she allowed herself to fully absorb the reality of the situation, the pain of heartbreak weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Painted tears streamed through Felicia’s Black Cat mask, leaving streaks of make-up along her face. In an instant, the Spider-Woman-in-training decided to revert to her previous life, purging herself of any trace of Spider-Man. Her tears blurred her vision as she gazed down the street at the Dolce and Gabbana store. A shift in her demeanor occurred as an idea suddenly sparked in her mind. Before she could put her plan into action, she goes back inside for her old bag of tricks, hidden away in the dusty confines of her home.

Across town, Peter wiped away his tears of laughter before reaching for his phone, which was charging on the table. "Oh, shit!"

"What's wrong, Tiger?" MJ inquired.

"I have a ton of Spider-Man alerts; I gotta run!" Peter replied, quickly grabbing his Spider-Man suit from his bag.

"Hurry back, lover," MJ said with a gleam in her eye as she pressed a kiss to Peter's lips before he pulled the mask down and swung out of the window.

Felicia deftly twirled her vibranium baton in her hand as her eyes locked onto her next target. With a powerful swing, she shattered the glass protecting the precious jewelry. A triumphant scream escaped her lips as the gems and trinkets lay exposed. This was her fifth shop of the night, and in each one, she left his clothes and a deliberate and enigmatic message for New York's beloved Spider-Man. 

Dolce and Gabbana: “CHEATER” 

Tiffany and Co: “TRAITOR”

Gucci: “FUCK YOU”

Chanel: “LIAR”

Versace: “ROT IN HELL, SPIDER-MAN”

Each message bore the distinctive signature of clawmarks and a cat sketch, a calling card only too familiar to the city's web-slinger. As Spider-Man arrived at the first scene, a heavy sense of dread engulfed him. 

"Did Black Cat make this for you, Spider-Man?" a cop inquired, eyeing the bold, black spray-painted words.

Spider-Man hesitated for a moment, his thoughts racing. "Are there more?"

The police officer nodded. "Yeah, several places around the upper east side have been broken into and tagged."

"Fuck!" Spider-Man cursed before swinging away in search of the next location. The night was a relentless cycle of pursuit, revealing message after message until he reached the last one. His frustration and anxiety grew with each discovery.

"FUCK!" he exclaimed once more, his voice filled with exasperation. He finally returned home to find his apartment nearly empty, all his belongings in a messy pile in the middle of the room.

Felicia stood before her floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed, and gazed at the flashing police lights converging on the designer shops she had systematically destroyed. The ever-growing chaos in the city below, brought her a strange sense of peace. 

After Felicia had run out of tears, she stepped away from the window and set about the task of cleaning the dusty apartment. She hung up her stolen art, unpacked her belongings, and gradually transformed the space into her new home. It was a solemn process of letting go and starting anew, but it needed to happen, even if she’d spend half the night doing so. Once the daunting task was complete, Felicia crawled under the covers of her king-sized bed, tears streamed down her face, and she cried herself to sleep. 

Today…

As Felicia’s head rested on Miguel’s heart, she continued. “For the rest of the summer Peter and I were in an on-and-off relationship.” She cringed to herself. “He would keep trying to convince me that there was nothing between him and MJ. It was a painful cycle where I’d cried every night as I realized that I would never truly have his heart.”

“It’s not your fault, mí vida,” Miguel whispers, caressing her hair soothingly. 

“Looking back, I realize I shouldn't have ignored the glaring red flags. I was a fucking dumbass and kept going back to him. I genuinely believed that the same Peter that would have stopped the world for some ducklings was still buried in there. But now, he's still obsessed with MJ's approval while she's obsessed with the chase. I hope they're happy in their psychotic relationship." She spat out, frustration causing her to throw the newspaper across the room. 

Miguel presses dozens of kisses to Felica’s forehead to soothe her. 

“Thanks, Miggy.” She looks up and smiles at Miguel. She moves around so her legs straddle his lap, a knowing smirk drawing itself on her face. She leans into his lips, whispering, “I consider myself very lucky to have you,” and presses her lips against his, both of them smiling into it. 

“Is that so?” 

“Hmm” 

“And what is it about me that makes you feel lucky?”

Felicia takes a deep breath in before saying, “I love it when you throw me around.” 

Miguel bursts out laughing at the bold statement. “You- you do huh?”

“Don’t you dare make fun of me O’Hara we’re supposed to be having a nice moment!” She slaps his chest to scold him. 

Miguel catches his breath still laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry what- what else, please please continue baby.”

Felicia huffs before continuing. “I like how you’re a good leader. You think about everyone else before you do yourself.” Miguel nods for her to continue.

“And I don’t care what anybody else says, but I like how you have a scary, menacing walk. Where people look at you and are scared to approach you but I for one find it incredibly sexy.” Miguel’s smile fades into a stern expression, his tone changing.

“Who says what now?” 

Oops. “No one! Just rumors, anyways!” Felicia quickly diverts the subject, waving her hand in the air as if to wipe it away from memory.

“I like the way you look at me.” 

“And how do I look at you?”

Felicia smiles to herself about the answer, the heat rushing up to her cheeks. 

“C’mon tell me.” Miguel sits up more on the couch, hands now rubbing at her sides. 

“I like how you look at me like I’m your equal. Like I’m worthy in every way possible. Not someone who needs fixing, or needs to be changed. You look at me like a partner, not an enemy.” 

Miguel slowly nods his head, absorbing all the things that Felicia expressed to him. 

“I’m lucky to have you too sweetheart. You have no idea, how lucky.” Without giving her a chance for her to reply he immediately pulls her head in to kiss her deeply.  She melts into his arms, her heart racing as their kiss deepens. His words echo in her head, I’m lucky to have you. She feels so lucky to be in his arms, feeling safe and loved. She’d never felt such adoration before, not like this, especially with Peter. She wraps her arms around him, wishing for the moment to never end.

Chapter 15

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com

#jedi jesi #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #stclairesplace #miguel ohara x female reader #miguel x reader #felicia hardy #miguel o’hara x felicia hardy #miguel o’hara x felicia hardy reader #spider-man x black cat #spider man x reader #miguel o’hara smut #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man x felicia hardy #miguel ohara smut #spider man 2099 #spider-man x reader

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

Y/N Ending

Staring at Homelander’s corpse, breathing ragged, you felt a hand touch your shoulder. You turn around and see Butcher standing next to you. How is this possible? Homelander beat him within an inch of his life, at the very least he should be comatose. You see the rolled-up sleeve and track marks.

“Come on, let’s leave before others find out what happened.” Butcher goes to grab your hand and you snatch them away.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Y/n I aint fuckin around. You just dusted Vought’s pride and joy and they’re gonna be lookin for ya. We need to leave while we can.”

“I’m not going anywhere with a liar!”

“Wha?”

“Your arm.” Butcher looks down, “You just shot up Temp-V after you promised you wouldn’t. How can I trust you if you can’t even keep your promises?”

“What else was I supposed to do y/n I was dying! We can talk about this later.”

“We’re not talking about anything later. Bye Butcher.” You begin to walk away from Butcher but then he grabs your arm.

“You don’t get to walk away from me.”

“Is there a problem here?” Ben now at your side. You step away from both men, Butchers eyes narrow.

“Mind your fucking business you supe cunt.”

“Anything with y/n is my business. How many times do I have to remind you, she’s, my girl.”

“She aint your girl she’s mine.”

“I’m no one’s girl!” The two men break the stare off and look at you. “This whole time I’ve been helping you fight Vought and fight Payback; I never got a chance to be what it’s like to be by myself. I never got to grieve for my poor husband.” You start crying. Butcher reaches out for you. “No! Don’t touch me. I’m done with this superhero shit.” You leave before the two of them get a chance to change your mind.

*

You find out that Grace was in the hospital, and you rushed to be by her side. Homelander never killed her but the attack left her paralyzed. In hopes to repay her for all her kindness, you become her caretaker. You helped her with daily activities, bathing, dressing, cooking, and cleaning.

“You know y/n you don’t have to do this.” Grace would always tell you in the beginning.

“I know I don’t have to do it; I want to. I want to repay all the kindness you showed me.” Grace helped you find a therapist to work out the shit you went through and how to develop copeing skills for when your PTSD arose its ugly head. Winding down one evening, the two of you were sitting in the living room watching the news when you got a strong urge to vomit. You ran to the bathroom did so. Confused, you walked back to the living room and Grace gave you a look.

“You, okay?”

“Yeah, something must not have agreed with my stomach, I just puked.” Graces attention fell back towards the tv.

“Hmm.”

The following morning, you felt like garbage. You made multiple trips to the bathroom, either to vomit or dry heave. You also noticed that your breasts were more tender than they have been, which isn’t normal. Weird…

“Y/n, have you thought about taking a pregnancy test?” Grace asked once you sat down at the breakfast table with a glass of tepid water.

“I don’t see the point in that, I can’t get pregnant after getting my tubes tied.”

“Theres always a small chance of getting pregnant y/n, the doctor explained that when you were still drugged, which I think he should’ve waited. Did you use protection when you shacked up with Butcher?” Oh shit. You made a doctor’s appointment.

*

“I’m afraid Grace is right y/n, test results came back positive, we tested both your blood and urine. We can perform an ultrasound to determine how far along you are, but basing off your symptoms and the timeline you gave us, we estimate you at approximately 6-8 weeks. We also feel like with your accelerated healing powers, it caused the tubes to grow back together. If it weren’t for you having the abilities you have, the surgery may have been more successful.”

Your heart sank into your stomach. You can’t be pregnant, it wasn’t possible. Reading your expression, the doctor adds,

“We can arrange for… a procedure to take place in a few days’ time if you didn’t want to keep it.” Several minutes of silence befell the room as you mulled over your thoughts.

“I’ll keep it.”

*

Grace’s family heard what happened to her and they arrived at her home to care for her. Even though Grace wanted you to stay, you felt unwelcome by her family. You decided to find an apartment in the city. Packing up the final boxes into the van, you give Grace a hug and bid farewell.

“Make sure you call me when you get there. Send me your schedule for your appointments and I’ll be there for you.”

“Thanks Grace.”

*Third trimester*

Arriving back to your apartment after a long day of being on your feet, you notice a small daisy on your doormat. This event occurred the same day every week since you moved back to the city. You always look around the hallway to see any figures and like usual, no one. You pick up the flower and make your way into the apartment and set it on the counter. Then, strong contractions began in your abdomen and lower back, water trickled down your legs. You pull out your phone,

“Grace, It’s time.”

*4 years later*

You moved to a small town just outside the city. The apartment complex wasn’t awful, it was close enough for you to make the trip into the city but far enough from all the stressors of city life. What prompted the move was the weekly flower delivery made you feel uneasy and watched. You and your daughter, who you named Lyla, always went out for ice cream on Wednesdays at the mom-and-pop ice cream parlor. Walking up to the second floor of the apartment building ice creams in hand, you reach your door and unlock it. The two of you enter the apartment and while you kicked off your shoes, you noticed a familiar pair of boots. Before you could react,

“Mommy? Who’s that?” you look up to where your daughter was pointing. There standing in front of you, was the man you left all those years ago in Vought’s lab. He still looked the same, beard maintained, brown hair a little longer now, his tall frame still holds the same confidence, face appeared more weathered than before.

“Hey.” He spoke. Lyla must’ve noticed the look on your face. She began tugging at your sleeve, showing her nerves. You break eye contact with him and look at your daughter, who serves as the daily reminder of the steamy nights you shared with the man in front of you.

“It’s okay honey. That’s your daddy.”

The end

#the boys #the boys amazon #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #frenchie #karl urban #mothers milk #soldier boy #kimiko the boys #soldier boy x reader #Youtube

[gatheredfates]

Alaice - Distraught

CONTENT WARNINGS: Alaice's story deals in dark/mature themes surrounding toxic relationships, domestic violence and my personal interpretation of a woman's place in Ishgardian high society. Please do not read/scroll now if you're under eighteen or if these topics are personally triggering. The abuse is primarily emotional/mental, but there is also a mention of martial rape. I choose to be transparent because I believe in tagging/warning were appropriate, but I'm firmly of the opinion people must be responsible for the kinds of media they choose to engage with. Curate your spaces appropriately.

when is a monster not a monster? oh, when you love it.

Tight fingers wove around a bunch of forget-me-nots, flecks of azure in the grey. Ahead, a weary band of onlookers watched the procession while the stony eyes of The Fury bored, an irony both in material and stare. It wasn’t the kind of wedding Alaice had envisioned for herself; a tiny gathering, a closed ceremony, the absence of her father on her arm.

'It would not do to wait for a spring wedding,' he explained on the first ask, and who was she to deny? The duties of her House weighed heavy since her parent's death (little more than babe, to loose them so quickly - what a tragedy!) and the tender promise of protection nursed to love as she confided to the handsome man now called her fiancé. He knew better, of course, master of his house for a ten-year, how to conduct her affairs in a most delicate manner. It would not bode well for her to attempt to navigate the bureaucracies on her own; the paperwork, the proprieties — she was ill prepared for it! No, he would care for it out of his adoration for her. She need only pledge her love for him and he would make it so.

Sensible. Pragmatic. It was no gayly court and gaggles of gossip, but she would be safe. Her mother had prepared her thusly before she died; the second-nature braid was originally by her hand. The spattering of snowberries and frosted evergreen haloed around her head only furthered the picturesque portrait of bridely innocence on her ascension to the altar.

Past the threshold of virtue. Out of the furnace and into the fire.

He looked at her and she swore to herself none of it mattered. Not the awkward assembly of acquaintances, the Halonic choir singing a chorus closer to a requiem, or the rush-job priest that better suited such a lament. The man on her left loosened his hold and relinquished her to her soon-to-be husband, as if he had any ownership over her in the first place.

Draeir smiled. His mouth were a gate of shiny white teeth, an ivory fortress where she loomed in enamel prisons lashed by his cold word. She smiled back so sweetly, barely containing her excitement, ignorant to the grip that was two ilms too tight on her fingers or the way he pulled her to him with contained force.

She stumbled. He caught her in turn. A moment's panic escaped her mouth, regained in an instant, and she apologised for her mistake.

"You won't do it again," he answered her, and she took it for gentility.

You will know better than to do it again.

The choir lolled into silence.

a beast can never unlearn its nature.

A posy of periwinkles decayed by the windowsill, overlooking the drab gardens flanked by an ever-constant pattering of snow. They had been a gift on his return, a placation for the girl resting chin-first by the ledge, and placed on the mantle to gather dust. That was how she felt most days, now — a painting, perhaps a statue at best. Something to revisit when he pleased, brushed down and realigned.

Sometimes, when he were being generous, he would trot her out to the crowds he entertained — watched with those hawk-like eyes how she curtsied and smiled at their jokes.

"Such a pretty thing, Draeir, how lucky you must be!" The women remarked, dripping poison from the corner of their lips to be bestowed upon their husbands who stared too long. She felt the uncomfortable flip in the pit of her stomach, intensified when they turned away to talk business and pleasure and his hand would seize hers from behind, pulling her to his side.

"Darling," he cooed, his voice dropping so low as to make the others believe they were merely conversing. Then came the hissed "Feeding their egotism is not your job."

Which did he want — her absence or her presence? If she kept to herself he'd stumble into their room wine-drunk and longing, clawing for her company and absconding her for her avoidance. If she stayed by him and submitted to his whims, a toe out of line spurred his ire.

"You are my WIFE." The specks of spittle were like stains on her skin, no matter how much she tried to wipe them off, and the desperate cries for his redemption could not strip the varnish from the bed that creaked from the weight of them. It hadn't occurred to her then to wish for them to crack; to fling them, body and bloody, to the floor.

It hadn't occurred to her to fight back.

How was this love when she was hysterical? How was this love when he looked at her with rage?

Draier grabbed her face and demanded her silence. He kissed her. He bit her. He tore her from the inside out, wringing her out like a crone's cloth, and left her in tatters at the bedside.

When she finally rose, barely registering what time had passed, she bundled the sheets dappled by blood and retrieved her clothes from the floor. She barely registered handing them to her maid, only that she asked they all be burned.

Rotting flowers on a mantle, elegantly framed. Holy work, the church claimed.

Tell me then, father, why I feel so unclean?

Is it nature or is it nurture?

In her dreams, her daughter wrapped her fingers around her throat.

"A sapling cannot be saved from the seed," She said, pretty lips spreading to a bloodied smile that poured down her chin to the spear of ice lodged between her breastbone. When Alaice screamed and tried to tear her hands away, Alyna only pressed her weight harder upon the weapon until she could no longer swallow the blood.

Her complexion. Her father's hair. Eyes of clear ice and steel grey looking at her vapidly. He looked like that when he died, too; the hard lines in his face smoothing to a eerie stillness as he slumped forward on the rime, steam rising from his rapidly cooling body.

She should have been horrified. Yet, when she dropped to her knees in front of him, all she could feel was relief.

Nature made him cruel. Nurture made her desperate. What would be the fate for their babe?

She woke the way a person stepped onto thin ice — cold and all at once. It was as if she suddenly remembered how to breathe, gulping down air instead of frozen water as her chest heaved and the blanket tangled around her legs was crisp and patched with snow.

To her left her daughter cried, but it was only on her third inhale that her mother registered it with fright and turned to scoop her up.

Alaice pressed her to her breast, icy cold. Alyna didn't seem to mind. In the stillness of the night, she was still a babe — not an apparition to be feared or an inevitability to supress.

"I can't tell you if evil is born or made," she recalled the witch telling her. They were alone one night, Elandervier having been coaxed by the promise of wine and relatively silent company. But, as she swirled the red in her hooked fingers, she sighed and looked to Alaice in full. Her mouth moved as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she busied herself with her cup.

She wondered what she might have said if she pressed. In truth, maybe it was better she didn't know at all.

Instead, she grounded herself with the feeling of her weight connecting with the wooden floorboards and the way her daughter wriggled in her arms. Alaice soothed her with a coo and a kiss to the crown of her head, straying to the window were dried lavender was plucked from the vase and offered as peacekeeping.

She had no way of knowing the horrors of the world. In this moment, she was safe.

That had to be good enough.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : alaice #i'm not tagging el because she only features once but she IS here #anyway hi i feel rusty but i got the main gist of what i wanted here sooo #watch me not write for another six months #( god i hope not FKGHJDFS ) #my writing #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea answers things

[spicy-picklez]

Rainbow after a Storm (P7)

Includes:

Apart from the swearing that seems to be a massive part of my vocabulary, no warnings.

Characters:

Larissa Weems x fem!reader (Principal x 18y student)

Summary:

Larissa and Y/N spend the day out of the school.

Word Count:

2.6k

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A/N: I’m sorry for taking so long with this chapter, I’m trying to do a 72hr sleep challenge with my mate to become clinically insane. I’m officially 63 hours in. That’s also why this chapter is probably horrible, so apologies in advance if it is because I must admit, I don’t remember writing half of it.🤣

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The sun was rising as you wake from your sleep. Your bare legs tangled with Larissa’s, your arm hanging loosely over her hip. Pulling her closer, you gently place a kiss in the crook of her neck as you sigh contently.

Of course you’d dreamed of this moment, the morning after you claimed each other as yours. But you’d never expected it to be more than that- a dream, and you certainly would never have expected it to feel so… right. Your bodies fit perfectly against each others, everything so calm like you’d done this everyday for the past eternity. Letting out a content noise in her sleep, she adjusts herself, pushing herself further up against you. You grin, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder. “You’re so gorgeous, mi corazón.”

Gently sliding your arm out from under her head, you slowly stand up, walking across to the bathroom. A grin spreads across your face as you see the marks of last night scattered across your skin. Sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, you start unwrapping the bandages. As you remove the gauze covered your wounds, you let out a sigh of relief. All stitches are still in place and none of your wounds have reopened. “Y/N?” You hear, Larissa’s worried voice from the next room. “In here, love.” Quickly cleaning up the gauze and bandages, you stand up.

Walking back out, you smile as you lay your eyes on her. Your handy work covers her skin, her blonde hair messy and lips swollen. Her cerulean eyes are unable to look away as you walk back over to her. She lifts up the covers as you get back into bed, her arms enveloping you in the comfort of her warm embrace. Your lips find hers, exchanging a soft and tender kiss. A smile grows across you lips as you stare at her in awe.

“What?” She lets out a gentle chuckle as she says this. You shake your head. “I just can’t believe someone as breath-taking as you would ever be interested in me.” Your hand gently brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. “How could I not?” She breathes.

“Your smile is infectious, your voice is heavenly. You are so goddamn breath-taking that I have to take a moment to figure out how to not seem like an idiot. Your personality may be a pain in my ass sometimes but its what makes you, you. I love that about you, you’ve never tried to hide as someone you’re not. Not to mention…” She grabs your hip and pulls you closer before continuing. “Your body is simple divine.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, looking away bashfully. Her finger hooks under your chin, gently making you look back at her. “I’m falling so unbelievably hard for you, Y/N.”

A smile spreads across your face. “And I you, Larissa.” Her lips close the gap between you. Your lips gently brushing over hers as you both pull each other closer. Sighing contentedly, you rest your head on her shoulder, placing a kiss over the hickey on her neck.

“Love?” She murmurs, her cheek resting on your head. “Mmm?”

“Did you want to get away from here for the day? I know this spot about an hour away on the other side of Jericho.” She almost hesitates as she asks this, unsure of your response. A grin appears on your face. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

Half an hour later, the two of you got into the car. Truth be told, 20 minutes of that had been used on cuddles. Her long fingers traced careful hearts on your thigh as you drive out of the Nevermore grounds. You stare out the window, your head in your hand, resting your elbow on the door as you subconsciously sing along to the lyrics.

That was how most of the drive went, aside from a few snippets of conversation where either of you would have a random thought. She pulls down a long gravel road, forestry casting shadows over you from either side as dust clouds rise behind you. As a black Jeep passes, a small clearing appears ahead about a hundred metres down the road. She pulls in, her hand leaving your leg as she turns off the car and gets out. Taking your hand as you get out of the car, she leads you down a dirt path through the trees.

“You’re not taking me out here to kill me are you?” A grin on your face as the trail winds around the trees. She looks at you, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Of course not, love. Just a few more minutes.”

Your hands still intertwined, the trails opens out to reveal a small clearing. The sun falls through the treetops revealing a waterfall cascading down a cliff. On a flat rock, lay a red and white checkered picnic blanket. A brown basket lay in between a set of pillows, on top of the blanket.

“Riss, this is stunning.” You marvel at the sight as she leads you over the blanket, taking a seat. “Marilyn came and set it up, the black Jeep we passed on the gravel road? That was her. She has no idea I’m with you though.” She smiles, softly running her thumb over the back of your hand. “That’s sweet of her to do that for you… How’d you even find this place?”

“It’s where my mum would take me before she crashed, we would be here almost every weekend swimming. When she passed, grandpa and nan took me out here, we stood on that ledge there and spread her ashes over the lake.” Her smile saddens as she replies. “Thank you for trusting me enough to take me here, love.” You lean forward and pull her into a hug. She wraps her arm around your neck, the other around your waist, pulling you close as she hides her head in your shoulder.

Your left hand rests on the back of her head as you place a kiss on her forehead. After staying like this for a few minutes, she eventually sits back up, rummaging in the basket before pulling out a small white box. “What’s this?” You ask as she places it in your hands. “Open it.” Her gorgeous smile growing back on her face. Undoing the black silk ribbon around it, you open the box. A sleek silver chain curves around the box, linking to a gorgeous diamond pendant. “Riss, it’s gorgeous… but I can’t accept this, I don’t deserve it.”

She gently picks up the bracelet, using her free hand to cup your face to look up at her. “If I thought you didn’t deserve it, I wouldn’t have bought it. You have captivated me in the best way possible. I always find myself smiling around you, I always find myself trusting you, more than I’d care to admit. You make me feel safe, so shut up about this ‘I don’t deserve it’ bullshit and let me put it on.”

A bashful smile grows across your face as you hold out your wrist. Her soft fingers brush against your skin as she clasps the bracelet around your wrist, the cool metal gently hugging your skin. She places a kiss to the inside of your wrist as your hand cups her cheek, rubbing your thumb over her soft skin. “You look beautiful darling.” She murmurs, a soft smile spreading across your face.

After you finish eating, you lie back as Larissa wraps her arms around you, lying her head on your chest. Your hand strokes through her hair as your other hand rests on her hip, your arm tucked behind her back. With the sound of the waterfall in the background, the two of you lie in each others safe embrace. Larissa lets out a small chuckle against your skin. “Whenever I need to be alone, I always come here. I used to think that I’d never have anyone to share this with. But since meeting you, everything’s changed.”

“Riss, are you telling me I’m the first person you’ve brought here?” You look down at her as she nods against your chest. “I’ve never trusted anyone else enough to bring here personally.”

Leaning your head down, you place a kiss on the top of her head. The one action saying a thousand words. Larissa’s ringtone sounds and she rolls over to pick her phone up, sitting up as she answers the phone. Standing up, you unzip your jersey, taking off your shirt followed by your pants, leaving you in your undergarments as you walk over to a rock at the edge of the lake.

Larissa’s eyes are hooked on you, hearing her stumble over her words behind you, you can’t help but grin. Leaping off the rock, you gracefully dive in, letting the water envelope you. The cool water sends a shock through your body as it flows over your skin, making you gasp as you resurface. Swimming over to less deep water, you feel your feet touch the ground, running your hands through your hair. “Alright, thank you Noble.” You hear as Larissa ends the call. She catches your eyes, a cheeky smile pulling at her lips as she drops her jacket off of her shoulders, slowly pulling her top off, followed by her pants.

As she walks over the rock you were previously on, your eyes trail down her body. Goddamn, she looks good. You watch as she dives into the water, her body suspending mid air for a second before disappearing under the water. “Jesus FUCK I forgot it’s winter.” You laugh, as she resurfaces next to you, gasping for air.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” You murmur, glancing upwards as she stands up next to you. She smiles, wrapping her arms around you. “Only multiple times a day.”

You lean forwards to place a kiss on her soft lips. “Good, because you just took my breath away.”

“Like the cold water did mine.” You laugh as she closes the gap between you again. Her lips gently brushing against yours as your hand goes up to tangle in her hair. Her arms pull your waist impossibly closer to her as the kiss deepens, your tongues working perfectly with each other. A cheeky grin pulls at your lips as you break away. “What’s that look-.” She is cut short as you scoop water at her, droplets running down her face making her let out a yelp in surprise. “Y/N!” She laughs, splashing back at you as you let out a squeal.

Her heavenly laugh fills your ears, making your grin grow even wider, something you didn’t think was possible. You continue with the back and forth splashing before raising your hands. “I surrender! I surrender!” You laugh as another bout of water hits your face. She grins but readies her hand to splash you again. “And what, my love, do I get for winning?”

You slowly step closer to her, looking into each others eyes. Your hand slowly runs up her side before placing itself in the middle of her chest. Slowly, you lean towards her, your lips mere centimetres apart. You can feel her warm breath on your skin before turning around, beginning to walk away. Her hand reaches out, grabbing your neck from behind, using her free hand to turn your hips to face her. Her mouth presses up against yours, her tongue running over your lower lip. You immediately open your mouth to her as she hungrily kisses your lips. Your hands, hung over her hips, pull her closer to you. You can feel her heartbeat against you as your bodies flush flat against each other.

Gently nipping at her lip, she moans into the kiss, a grin appearing on both your faces. Pulling away from the kiss, the two of you breathe heavily as she rests her forehead against yours. “I’ll take it.” A cheeky smile on her face making you chuckle. “Though I am very cold so I’m gonna get the fuck out of here.” She continues as you nod, feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin. Following her out of the water, you shake your head, droplets of water flying in every direction. Walking back to your clothes, the two of you wring out your hair. Quickly pulling your clothes back on, you shove your hands into the pockets of your jersey.

“Y/N…” Larissa begins as you look up at her. “Mi corazón?” You reply, walking over to her. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I know this going to sound completely wrong given that I’m your principal but I find myself falling for you harder with every moment I spend with you. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life, showing you just how gorgeous you are and how much you deserve my affection. So… do you want to make this official? Will you be my girlfriend?” A grin pulls across your face as she waits for your response.

Your hand reaches up to cup her face, your other one on her hip as you pull her closer to you, placing your lips on hers. Both of you desperate to feel your bodies against each other, your lips moving with each others. Slowly pulling away from the kiss, she swallows, a smile on her face. “I take it that’s a yes?” She grins as you nod. “Of course Riss, 100% yes.” The both you giddily grinning, she presses her lips against yours for a firm but tender kiss.

Breaking away, the two of you gather up your stuff before heading back up to the trail leading through the woods. Your hands are intertwined as you walk through in a happy silence.

The minute you reach the car, Larissa is quick to start the engine, turning on the heater. “I don’t know why I thought swimming in winter was a good idea, because I’m fucking freezing now.” You laugh, her nodding in agreement. The two of you sit in the heat for a moment, enjoying the warm air coming out of the vents. “You know, I haven’t been that happy there since before my mum died… thank you.” Her voice soft and genuine as she says this. Leaning over, you gently graze your lips over hers. You still can’t believe that you’re now officially hers and she, yours.

“Of course mi corazón.” She places her hand on your thigh as she turns the car around, driving back along the gravel road. You grin as MILCK’s ‘Devil Devil’ starts playing, singing along the lyrics. A smile pulls at her lips as she listens to your melodic voice, her thumb lightly running up and down your thigh as the chorus plays.

“Do not try me devil, devil. Cannot buy me devil, devil. You won’t make a fool of me, oh no.” Larissa joins in as you sing the next part of the chorus. “What makes you so special, special to think I would ever settle for the devious dance between you… and me.” You place your hand over hers as the two of you sing along to the lyrics. The song finishes as you reach the end of the gravel road.

The drive back seemed rather short as you both spent the time belting out lyrics as each song came on. The two of you feeling like young school kids, unable to stop grinning at the fact that you’re now officially girlfriends.

———————————————————

#larissa weems #principal weems #larissa x reader #woman x woman #nevermore #forbidden love #forbidden romance

[paperpeacock]

Hello !! I love your writing so much !! I was wondering if we could have a part three for Notice me where Allura finds out that your with Keith and she orders you to break up!! Can you please make it a happy ending ?? Thank you !! Stay safe and healthy !! Its okay if you dont want to do this.

Hi, I am deeply sorry, this has been a busy month for me and I thank you for being so patient. I loved this request! I thought I gave Allura a bad rep in my previous stories, so I also wrote a happy ending for her. I also apologize if this isn't what you had in mind, I got a bit carried away. But anyway, thank you so much for requesting and I hope you have an awesome day!

Notice me - Part 3

Opening inspired by this scene from Howls Moving Castle

A shooting star, befallen from the sky. A flurry of warm and colorful light. You took a chance and chased after it, across a moonlit field. Eyes ablaze in a curious wonder, whilst gazing up at the stream of wishes and dreams bulleting across the sky. You were warned not to engage in such childish things, but as you grew closer, as the light shone brighter. Such notions just disappeared. You rushed after it, catching it just before the ground. Now you had, a shooting star befallen from the sky. So warm and bright. Now that I have it, it will forever be mine, you thought to yourself. But be careful dear reader for once you have something so wonderful, so precious, there are those who will wish to destroy it. 

low laughter and shushing rung from the infirmary door, if anyone were to walk past, they’d know exactly who the culprits were. Keith sat upon the counter, his arm tangled in white bandages and face painted rose. You stood below him, gently fiddling with the long stretches of cotton whilst having to hush his and your own laughter. 

“Your terrible at this” He remarked. Bluntly. 

You laughed, struggling to untangled the multitude of knots you made. “J-just wait” 

“Mhm, okay” he smiled, head angled towards the ceiling. These feeling were so new to him, having someone to tease, smile at and adore. It was a fluttering foreign thing, but a thing he’d now welcome. After falling in love beneath that twilit sky, you two had done far more exploring. He offered to teach you how to spar, going for secret joy rides in the red-lion, you taught him of the kingdoms that planets had, the people that lived there. He told you stories of earth, promising to take you there, even then he taught you what a pinky promise was. 

Recalling these memories he directed his gaze back to you, stygian eyes swirling in warmth. “I love you Y/N” He called out, roping you from your task. 

You shyly ducked your head, hair falling around your soft face. 

“I love you too Keith” You whispered, smaller fingers grasping on to his hand, placing a kiss against his knuckles. His breath hitched, meeting your starry gaze. The way you looked at him, adoringly, it made heart drum fast and his blood go warm. 

“Do you need any help?” he asked, his right hand coming over to the bandage. You gave him a nod, copying his actions. You sat in a tender moment, silently wrapping the white around his injured arm. 

“have you spoken to Allura yet?” Then the moment was broken. 

You let out a defeated sigh, still staring at his hand, in thought.  

“I tried...” 

“And?” 

“I asked her what her thoughts on love were” You brought two pieces of the cotton together. “She said it is a foolish thing” You tightly pulled them together, tying a secure knot on Keith's arm. He watched as your brows furrowed, gentle hands grasping at the table. 

“Why must she be this way?” You asked, eyes alight in frustration. 

“Why must who be this way?” A voice snapped, the door hand been pushed open, revealing a hidden pair of aqua eyes. 

Earlier, whilst Keith and Y/N had scurried into the infirmary, Allura had been searching for you. She was the only one who didn't know of your relationship, the rest of the team were told to keep their mouths shut. And for good reason. Allura didn't want distractions. Allura didn't want giddy romance. Allura didn't want there to be love. at least, that’s what everyone was told. 

“Have any of you seen Y/N” she called, drawing the attention of lance.  

“Pretty sure she’s in the infirmary”  

“Why?” She quickly asked, her voice laced in worry. 

“Um, I'm not sure” 

“Okay, thank you” she nodded at him before making her way. Had something happened to you? Were you okay? Her pace quickened. 

Allura knew she presented herself as a cruel mistress towards you, often scolding you and putting you down. But in truth, she was afraid. Afraid of the vast universe now presented to her. Filled with war, filled with pain. In a inky mass so dense with stars she could easily lose you. She couldn't lose you.  

Before all of this, in a much simpler time. When you were both but small children, giggling in a field of endless flowers, smiling and talking for hours. Back when every secret was shared, back when you both cared. Back when you would apologize and make up, back when tears could be dried and it would be okay if you cried. Back when she was your big sister. 

“Allura!” You gasped, releasing your touch on Keith’s arm. 

“What are doing?” she asked, voice low, filled with a sinking rage. 

“I-I, I'm just...” You looked towards Keith, his coal eyes reflecting back your own worried ones. You swallowed down the trembling inside you, deciding this couldn't go on. 

“I'm helping my boyfriend with his arm” You replied, standing but only a little taller. “Is there a problem” your voice was cold. “Cause if there is you can tell me" You held nothing back, not any more. 

“Why...” She whispered. 

“Why? Why because I love him!-” 

“Why didn't you tell me?” her voice wobbled; hand placed against the door frame. You and Keith turned to each other; eyes wide with confusion. 

“Why would I?” You asked, softening your tone whilst approaching your older sister. 

“Because you always do!” She cried. “Y/N, you're not little anymore, I know, I know you want things that I don’t, I know you love him!” 

You were confused. Allura was confusing. She didn't want this for you yet she wanted you to tell her about it? 

“Y/N” she drew you and Keith's attention. 

“I didn't want you to leave me behind” This truth sunk into you, just as you sunk your arms around her. 

“I'm not going to” you hugged her closer. Tears staining your shoulder as you told her this. Despite the rage you both festered inside for one another, you could put it aside for this moment. You would discuss her methods of keeping you from Keith later. 

Her eyes fluttered open, scarlet in tears, and she peered towards your love. They looked at each other for once with an understanding. An agreement that no matter anything Keith would take care of you. This was the only thing they managed to agree on. But for now, that’s good enough. 

#keith kogane x reader #vld keith #voltron keith #keith kogane #voltron fluff #voltron legendary defender

[thedeal-if]

The ROs take it upon themselves to wake up the MC so they don't miss work or an appointment, how do they do so? (also hi! i hope you're doing great!)

Hi!! Aw thank you💕 I'm doing great! Hope you are too~!

(Dante is a fucking mess of a man I'd be shocked to see him waking himself up in time to help MC lol)

You wake up to the smell of burning food and the sound of a door snapping open. He’s not exactly running late, but Dante doesn’t have all the time he would have needed to make the situation as memorable as he’d hoped.

“(Name)~ Svegliati, mia gioia~,” Dante coos. English comes back swiftly when he sees you stir, the language switch always turns his pitch a little deeper “We’re running a teensy late and I don’t want to see you stressed~”

You mumble sleepily, “How late?”

Truly, a good question. Dante still doesn’t know how to use a phone, he doesn’t own a watch either, so he cranes his head to check outside, eyes meeting the clock on the hallway wall.

Oh, you really are running late.

“Em,” words are hard to find under pressure, but Dante’s hesitation probably speaks loud enough, and you sit up hastily, bleary-eyed “We should get going soon, gioia. Or now, if you can.”

Lilith, early riser as they usually are, makes sure that their alarm gives them all the time they need to freshen up, dress, and get their makeup done and on point. Getting you to your appointment means seeing you inside and picking you up if you wish them to. Lilith is responsible enough to handle the job, it also involves you, and you’re much more fun than the alternative.

You wake up to find Lilith by your side, sitting on your bed, graceful like a cat, they smile like one too, tentatively. Their care extends to the tender way their fingers graze your cheeks, the teasing touch makes goosebumps paint your skin. Lilith bites back an affectionate smile, they whisper your name instead—as if afraid to break the peacefulness of the early morning.

“Love, time to start the day,” they say.

Josh will end up confessing days later that, though he has always been sure about the time and date, he checks over seven times whether got it right or not. In all honesty, you wouldn’t have guessed he feels paranoid about being wrong, Josh wakes you up like he has done it a million times before.

“Hey, it’s time, Dot,” he says softly. And Josh is exactly on time as always—he will also confess, with a flush, that he waits for over ten minutes while staring at be clock just to do that—, a mug of coffee he brewed earlier in his hands.

Josh waits—he waits often, doesn’t he?—until you’re conscious enough to take the mug into your own hands.

“You’re going to do great today!” the pep talk Josh gives you might come a tad too early for you to fully register anything he’s saying, but Josh’s burst of energy is motivating enough either way.

Villanelle accepts naturally with a cheerful clap of her hands. She expresses some worry but promises she’ll wake up on time. No matter what. Villanelle delivers on her promise the next morning, and her bright smile greets you like the morning sun.

“Rise and shine~” Villanelle sets down a mug on your bedside table. The flowery scent of its contents fills your senses “It’s green tea. It always helps me wake up.”

It must work wonders if one were to judge Villanelle’s ever-bright presence, even so early in the morning. The witch coaxes you until you’re sitting up, she promises she made the tea so you would like it.

Last night Victor checked over the plan with you, he went over the motions and steps methodically. You felt like you were his partner, the two of you getting ready to hunt down some demon—except the only thing that happened was your request for him to wake you up for work.

Victor knocks on your door until you are well awake, he never crossed the threshold, giving you privacy and insisting through the wood only when he feels that you’re running late.

“You’re ready?” Victor questions once you join him in the kitchen. He eyes you briefly before he checks the time, and nods “I’ll drive you there once you’re done— I prepared a simple breakfast.”

Calling it simple is definitely acting up on his modesty. Victor seems to know, he smiles a little when you eye the feast he made. For you.

Despite Aliyah’s initial—quite strong, very verbal—refusal, the genie happens upon your room at the—what are the chances?—ungodly hour you once asked her to wake you up. Aliyah denies her interest in your well-being as is customary. Then, she proves it by being rougher than rough. She pulls up your curtains, rips the bedsheets off of you, laughs at your puffy, sleepy face when you turn to glare at her.

“You knew what you were getting into when you asked,” Aliyah shrugs, she always looks strangely smug when she’s right, but today seems to be an exception. The genie notices your eyes on her, and her self-satisfied smirk returns “Don’t look so worried, human. Confidence is key.”

You think that this is Aliyah’s roundabout way of telling you she believes you’ll do great.

As soon as you ask Nathan to wake you up it’s like a flip is switched, he takes the task as gracefully as he can, with a seriousness that dies almost as soon as it appears. Nathan is blind to your very human emotions, he automatically assumes you’re nervous about your appointment and tries to get your mind off it as best as he can for the rest of the day.

Nathan wakes you up like the two of you are going to a party, with a misplaced cheer that is strangely endearing given the situation.

“Morning, morning!” he beams—albeit a little forcedly—, yawns a couple times, tugs on your hand until you’re sitting up “It’s so… fucking early! What a joy!”

You remind Eden of your need to wake up early the day prior, she makes a note of it and dutifully shakes you awake the next day. Eden stares at you for a few seconds, puffy-eyed and shaking the haze of the morning, then she chuckles.

“Coffee/Tea/Juice?”

She asks like she remembered to buy/brew it, but you find out she didn’t quickly enough when Eden abandons the house to get it fresh for you. It’s an unspoken offer for you to shower and dress, one which you take, and by the time she’s back, you’re ready to go.

#trying new styles #im still finding my vibe here #i studied english not web design🤲🏻 #the deal #the deal if #the deal act 1 #inferno #ask #dante #lilith #josh #villanelle #victor #aliyah #nathan #eden #ros #scenario

[kadavernagh]

The dying room || Solo

TIMING: Current, right after Myself I must remake LOCATION: Regan's grandmother's house PARTIES: Regan & Cliodhna SUMMARY: After a year away, Regan returns to her grandmother. CONTENT: Domestic abuse, descriptions of animal being skinned

Never, until meeting her grandmother, had Regan known someone able to sound both entirely indifferent and utterly disappointed at the same time.

Cliodhna’s expert fingers moved with centuries of skill. The first step was always breaking the skin. In that way, banshees were no different than any other living or dead thing – all one needed was a sharp instrument and the knowledge of where the skin was thinnest. She hooked the rabbit under the chin, its small nose tipped toward the ceiling, then made medial incisions in the hindlegs. She held the creature’s feet in place as she bunched the fur by its ankles and twisted until a harsh snap sounded through the room. “Hello, little one,” Cliodhna said, her flatlining tone not matching her words.

She, of course, was speaking to the rabbit. Regan could feel her grandmother’s presence like sandpaper against her skin, and she knew her grandmother heard her come in, felt her come in. But some matters were more important.

There was a tearing noise like velcro as the pelt was pulled down the rabbit’s leg. The exposed flesh and muscle was pink and tender in the fading daylight that managed to creep in through the thick window. It always seemed, to Regan, like these scream-resistant windows strangled whatever tried to shine through them. The other leg came next, and Regan was grateful for the distraction, so that she did not need to hear the way her heart pounded like some dying creature’s. Cliodhna’s long fingers stretched the cape of fur upward toward the animal’s hips. She could have done it by feel alone. She could have done it blindfolded.

So why would Cliodhna not look at her? Regan had come all of this way. She did the right thing, made the correct decision, fought herself – the self that had formed, shouldn’t have formed – every step of the way. She left Jade, left her family, left everyone. So why–

Regan did not dare seat herself as she waited. I did not wean you on comfort, the woman in front of her might say, but Regan also did not dare speak a word to Cliodhna until spoken to. She was sure questions would come out, which were on her grandmother’s list of most loathed things, after life-saving medical intervention and cowardice (there was a list of items 1-100 somewhere in the bedroom that she had memorized). But Regan had been standing in the cramped dying room – what most would call a ‘living room’ – for at least two minutes, staring at her grandmother’s back and glassy, orange wings. How could she not question the lack of acknowledgement? So Regan’s vulturous thoughts circled, ready to par down her flesh like the rabbit in front of her grandmother. She knew the answers. Had Regan not turned her back first? Had she not spat on the gift her grandmother had seen fit to give her eight years ago? 

So she would wait, patiently. Still. Several more minutes. Her grandmother now held her favorite skinning knife, one she spent more time sharpening than she had speaking to her granddaughter (something Regan was usually okay with, actually). Cliodhna’s sharp, streamlined wings – which Fate had appropriately splashed with one of nature’s warning colors – were not unlike the knife, sharing a silhouette. Perhaps that was why she liked it so much.

"You've returned," Cliodhna finally said. Never, until meeting her grandmother, had Regan known someone able to sound both entirely indifferent and utterly disappointed at the same time. She still did not turn. Her grandmother’s wings caught the rest of the remaining light filtering in, sucking it from the room. She continued peeling up the rabbit’s skin with a series of careful incisions, no limb unmarked by the blade. “I thought it might be a few more years.”

Regan swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Her tongue was taking a minute to load in the correct language. She took a step forward, steeling herself for the chill of her grandmother’s gaze. It did not come. Cliodhna looked only at the rabbit that lay still and dead and exposed for her. Regan’s voice was brittle and exhausted when she spoke. “You were right. The longer I stayed there, the worse I–” Her grandmother caught the hesitation in her voice, and needed to make no movement for Regan to detect that invisible reproach. “– I would have killed someone, eventually. Or done something terrible. I would have cost myself and others everything. I was failing. I had stopped practicing what you taught me, and things started breaking, and I could barely control…” Her grandmother did not care about that, beyond the embarrassment to their family. “I was unable to serve the way I should have. So yes, I am back. I came with Siobhan.”

An unconcerned pause. “Who?”

If her grandmother had sighed, Regan did not hear it. She was stuck watching again. The skin was off but the guts had to come out. Cliodhna deviated from how one would typically accomplish skinning an animal. The incision she made next across the stomach was Y-shaped, stretching from the sternum to the pelvis, intimately familiar to Regan. Her grandmother’s long fingers split open the creature’s belly and grasped it by the trachea. She tore it, and all of the attached organs – the stomach, the lungs, the intestines – from the rabbit with a squelch that shed blood on the floor. The dead rabbit did not know. The dead rabbit did not care how it was skinned and eviscerated. It was as if to say, see, what you did back there was worth nothing.

"What is it, Regan?" she asked, her voice raising bumps across Regan’s skin. "Do you have something else to say?"

She weighed each word carefully in her mind before speaking them. “I won’t be a disappointment this time. I won’t leave.” 

“No, I do not imagine you will.” Blood dribbled to the floor, and she held the bloc of organs clenched in her hand, kidneys swaying. Cliodhna let the mass of viscera continue to drip, saying nothing, before spreading everything out on the table. The skinning knife was back in her hand. She was admiring that, not looking at her granddaughter, when she addressed her once more. “Oh, don’t look so glum. You know I won’t tolerate such expression. And you’re back where you belong. If anything, you should be having one of those… what do the humans call them? Ah yes, smiles.” Regan stiffened at the observation; her grandmother was not even looking at her. The blade, she realized, the skinning knife. That was how she saw. Or she just sensed it. A year had passed and her grandmother still knew when Regan was thrashing against her training, and when to tighten that noose.

Finally, Cliodhna stepped aside, revealing the rabbit’s once vibrant fur that had become a lifeless heap on the table. Now there was no reason for her grandmother not to face her. But still, she did not. She simply disappeared into the kitchen without a backwards glance and washed her hands, before turning to the stove, where soup was reaching a slow boil. She stirred it as slowly and deliberately as she had stripped the rabbit clean.

Really? But she had just– was her commitment to staying here going to be unacknowledged? What else did her grandmother need? Why did she always need more? 

Regan scampered after Cliodhna, desperate to just receive eye contact after all she had already given, even though she knew it would pin her where she stood, slapping her with an icy draft of perpetual failure. That was why she was here, though, that draft. Her grandmother would fix her. She would keep her from hurting anyone, would help her perfectly angle a scream, would teach her how to glamour her wings, would let her learn and earn her place here. Regan opened her mouth to say something – perhaps tell her grandmother about the pressed flowers she had collected, or describe how she had chosen this in more detail, chosen it over love and comfort and against the will of her heart, but her grandmother filled the silence with her own silence. She commanded it. No conversation occurred without her designating where others were allowed to speak. It had not been Regan’s turn. She had already grasped this prosody again.

Regan broke that contract anyway, her own guts wrenching out now, voice creased in desperation. “You’re not even going to tell me I did the right thing? I left everything! Twice now! So that I could come here and do no harm, and live up to what you expect of me, and to offer this place an actual physician. Twice. I left my… I left…” The Irish air was not being kind to her eyes, and her ring burned on her finger. “Tell me I was correct, that I made the right first step, that the only way for me to improve is to do what I just did.”

Cliodhna’s lips twisted like she was disgusted, the first sign of any emotion passing through her, as her inky black eyes snapped to Regan’s, finally. She looked exactly as she had the day they had met, eight long years ago. At least, to Regan’s memory, which was fuzzy – but who recalled their own birth with clarity? Her grandmother’s face consisted of sharp angles and little else, well-groomed blonde hair mixed with grey – the only sign of her being a day past 45 – and thin lips that barely moved. Her eyes had been blue, that day. The same blue as hers and her dad’s. Regan had never seen that shade on her since. “Child.” Your place. “It’s true we were lacking in a doctor. Ossa’s wings rotted off in your absence, and Muadhnait died. You will visit her in the cemetery. That band-aid dispenser at the clinic has seen better times; it grows rusted and crooked with age, ready for a permanent replacement. Such objects are subject to change. They are akin to the living. We are not.” With a flick of her hand toward the soup, she said, “Come, help set the table. In time, we will right you.”

That had been exactly what Regan wanted to hear, the scrap she had been hounding her grandmother for. We will right you. It’s possible. You can be righted. After so many failures, she would claim this small victory, she would grow it, she would surpass it, and all she had to do right now was ignore how her stomach felt like it was a casket being lowered into the earth.

#solo #writing #domestic abuse tw #uhhhh rabbit rabbit rabbit??

[athousandbyeol]

"it’s because they take care of each other and they are a source of comfort to each other. especially when they’re feeling nervous, you’ll see that they’re the clingiest." - this what you said is so true remember the bungee jumping where they kept confessing their love for each other I cried

"but it’s very rarely flashy or exaggerated. and 97% of what people think is fan service is really just how their friendship is." - you literally just took the words out of my mouth and of am not wrong they even mention this in one of those abaab interview that what others/fans think is a cute lovely moment between them is actually normal for them just their genuine deep loving friendship showing

i will never get tired of saying how very PROUD i am of them after everything they've been through together their every growth ups and downs with their relationship with each other their career and their success i love them with my whole heart and i've never been in love this much i am in love with them being in love with each other be it whatever kind its pure its genuine its beautiful its heartbreaking its celestial its destiny its a match made in heaven and i will never shut up about this its some soulmate/twinflame shit right there

sorry for the rant i just wanted to share it

op, these words are spoken by @laowen actually. as the president of forcebook society here on tumblr, she's very spot-on :) //i'm sorry if you thought it was me ㅠㅠ i'm not that good at expressing my feelings. i'm just a mess in this forcebook discourse hahaha

but yes. yes to everything. forcebook's interaction is organic and homey. although i do believe some gestures are spiced to taste (because let's face it, they're in the entertainment industry. of course there's in need of some ✨️pizzazz✨️), those touches, every word, the loving stare, comes from the heart and are sincere. i believe what they have even before they're in the industry plays an important role in their sturdy relationship. because whatever it is, forcebook are friends before everything. they've known each other half of their lives. what more can we ever say about them? love and trust are an understatement. they're so much more.

i dearly hold onto that notion because friends— good friends— don't come by all the time. but the universe somehow aligned these two souls to reunite again. and they've become inseparable, it seems. somehow, they're soul partners that would laugh at each other, record all those embarrassing moments, but will stand up for each other whenever things get messy. forcebook aren't meant for people who crave grand gestures. what they do every day is normal to them and i think it's what most foxmochis adore about their relationship. the normalcy. the quietness. the tender assurance. whatever forcebook have; it's beautiful. it's behind the scenes. it's sincere. it's home.

also, i personally think, if shippers that go beyond the comfortable context of 'liking two individuals', and start having weird ideas about them, they will definitely nitpick everything forcebook do as 'romantic'. everyone is open to ship or support their favourite artists. but there must be boundaries set. after all, we're all humans. p'book and p'force are humans. i hope these people won't hyperfixate whatever's inappropriate about forcebook's beautiful relationship and expect more than what they're willing to share with us.

yes, i can't deny, they're quite sugary together. people might have ideas. but i humbly hope, for as long as forcebook don't categorise or say anything about their relationship, we don't assume instances that could make them less comfortable with us. it takes so much guts for p'book to open up, and more trust for p'force to shed tears in front of the fans. i can't imagine if they start feeling icky once these 'so-called fans' go overboard. forcebook are each other's safe zones, and we are their family and friends, so, we should treasure this trust between us. don't break it.

the bungee-jump episode really got me shed happy tears. i questioned, just how much they love each other? it's crazy to imagine they're so emotionally dependent on each other— especially during hard/stressful times. that already speaks a lot about their relationship. they're just... they're just so soulmate-coded, don't you think?

op, it's ok. i totally understand. forcebook's genuine relationship is so fresh and heartwarming. of course, we can't get enough of these chaotic and idiotic besties! they spread so much joy and sincerity to everyone. it's so precious. they're so precious and loved. you can love them and cherish them and support them all you want. the door is always open. some of my friends here, mj (@/laowen, @forcebookish, @ellasaru12 and others) are very cool and they love forcebook too so, welcome aboard! <3

to more happier and glorious days with forcebook, op! ✨️

#op. you're very cute #this warms my heart so early in the cold rainy morning #forcebook really make foxmochi happy #thanks for this ask <3 #forcebook #personal #na answers

[dujour13]

Tender for siavash and woljif?

Thank you!! I deleted the list of prompts because I got scared of not having enough time, but you got this in first and I ended up making time because it was worth it. 💕

---

Woljif wasn’t sure what woke him, but he hadn’t been sleeping well recently anyway. Now that the shadow was gone he’d been hoping for some peace. Instead, ever since Iomedae had burst out of the stained-glass window on the Drezen temple, other dark things had begun whispering in his ear.

At his side, Siavash was restless. He rarely complained, but Woljif was aware that the wound had been giving him grief, the way he often made little pained sounds and rolled to ease the pressure on his chest.

He stared unseeing at the pale sliver of moonlight high on the Citadel chamber wall, his mind turning like the wheels of a carriage stuck in the mud. Progress had stalled on the Lexicon, although it had started out well, now that they had the two halves and Nenio had figured out how to get the enchanted words to sit still. The Storyteller knew a lot about how Nahyndrian crystals worked, and with help from the Queen’s arcanists he’d been able to decipher a few things, even though they used a lot of big words he didn’t know and tended to waste time bickering about stupid details.

The rifts, the “points of incision,” were places where the fabric of the planes was folded. A “being of duality was cobbled together”—Areelu and Siavash, no doubt—and it was that duality that opened the Worldwound, and it was killing them both.

She wrote that Nahyndrian crystals lent a mortal soul the strength to withstand the process, but had said they were both at their limit, so another infusion wouldn’t help. If Areelu Vorlesh hadn’t found a solution, what chance did a street-rat tiefling from Kenabres have?

But all that felt like nicking petty cash when the real treasure was locked in an impenetrable vault. He kept coming back to the same question: why? If the point was simply to destroy Sarkoris in a fit of vengeful fury, there must be simpler ways of doing that. He’d already discarded the theory that she bound herself to the Abyss and opened the Worldwound to gain the immortality of a half-fiend, because she’d almost died in the process. And none of that explained why she did it to Siavash too.

Siavash shifted again, rotating his shoulder. In the pale half-light Woljif could see the crease of pain in his brow as he slept. He sat up on one elbow and peered more closely at the edge of the wound as if it could tell its secrets. Healing magic didn’t work because it was more than a physical wound—a wound in the soul, and this was its physical manifestation. If it would not stay closed, it must be because something was tearing it open—that “duality” Areelu kept going on about.

There were too many unknowns. It was like waltzing into a heist with no inside intel. You never knew where the loot was stashed, or even if there was any to begin with. Or whether there were dogs. Like that one time—but he was getting sidetracked.

Siavash opened his eyes and pressed a hand to the wound, rolling onto his back.

“Chief? You all right?”

“Sorry.”

“The wound?”

“It’s all right.”

“Bullshit.”

“Woljif, please don’t worry. Get some sleep.”

Instead, he sat up and swung his legs out of bed. No chance of going back to sleep now. The Lexicon lay open on the desk. He pulled on a pair of pajama trousers, padded over to the desk and made a soft light spell. Rubbing his eyes, he checked through his latest notes, found where he left off, and began to read again.

The Worldwound is linked to the Key, but the Key is also linked to the Worldwound, and carries it in his soul. Then surely closing the Worldwound should heal it? Why did Iomedae say it wouldn’t?

He flipped back to the chapter on Suture: a demon torn apart when it was pulled through the Worldwound rift Areelu created, then stitched back together: did that mean there was a way to—

And then it came to him. Sitting at the table at Gran’s as she was showing him how to cut a hole in his trousers for his tail and then sew the hem back up, because he was almost six and she wasn’t doing it for him anymore. Pushing the needle through the fabric and pulling the thread tight. Licking his fingers and twisting the thread between them to make a knot. Then the true test: you tugged on it to see if it held.

Areelu Vorlesh had sewn the Abyss to Golarion. She had sewn an Abyssal soul to her own, and to Siavash’s—“the other half of your soul”, as she’d called it—and the two sides were tugging against each other.

Hadn’t Siavash said he felt torn by the bouts of demonic rage? That he’d come to a sort of reconciliation on board the airship? He was stitched to the Abyss.

His eyes went wide with excitement. That meant that you could snip the thread somewhere and unravel it, separate them without tearing… but would that kill him? Areelu surely thought of all this before. He shook his head in frustration.

Suddenly he felt a pair of arms wrap around his bare shoulders. “Come back to bed.”

In the bottom of his chest, something caved in. His lips began to tremble and tears pooled in his eyes. “No,” he whispered.

“I should never have put this on you.”

“Cut it out, it’s not your fault.”

“Stop trying to do it alone. Tomorrow we’ll meet with the astrologers from Pulura’s Fall. It’s going to be all right, Woljif.”

With tremendous effort, Woljif forced down a sob and let himself be led back to bed.

Unlike Siavash, he was too agitated to lay still, let alone sleep, so he propped himself on a pillow and drew Siavash’s head close to his side, and lay tenderly stroking his hair.

If I’d a’ taken Ygefeles’ deal, I’d be livin’ it up in Alushinyrra right now. Probly have half a dozen succubi in my bed feedin’ me grapes and massagin’ my feet.

Instead I have one azata who feeds me cookies and massages my feet.

Definitely the better deal.

Except that his azata was dying.

In a few days they would march on Threshold and it would be too late. Still, he felt he had seized an important thread (so to speak), and as he eventually drifted off his dreaming mind realized that with enough energy you could turn the Worldwound inside out like a sewed-up seam and make it bloom again.

#thanks for the ask!! #angrygoatwoman #woljif #siavash