#and I’m currently listening to tolerate it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelanderson · 8 months

Text

SUCK IT— ELLIE WILLAIMS

you want a kiss, but ellie wants something first. cw: strap on sucking (ellie receiving), mean dom!ellie, bratty!r, r!receiving, light degradation. established relationship. u decide if au or not :) MINORS & MEN DNI. (long-ish tbh ! adding word count soon!) enjoy!! xoxoxoxo <3

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

ellie is beyond fed up with the attitude you’ve had all day. it seems like anyone and anything is setting you off, and she’s at the receiving end of it. she’s lost count of how many times she’s told you to stop rolling your eyes today after the seventh time.

you both know you can’t disagree with what’s about to happen— you know ellie doesn’t tolerate a bratty attitude ever. in hopes she’ll somehow be lenient with you, you look at her through thick lashes from your current position on the floor. a nervous whimper almost escapes your lips as you watch her ignore your attempts. you now accept that there won’t be any leniency tonight after all stunts you’ve pulled today.

“e-ellie?” you whine out, craving her warmth again. you hate when she doesn’t give you attention, and she knows that.

ellie hums, shamelessly eyeing your naked figure. she watches you squirm for a few more seconds for her pure enjoyment. while she’s acting nonchalant, she’s feeling anything but inside. she needs to scratch the itch that is punishing you, but your girlfriend knows to play the long game by now.

“already whining, huh? That’s kinda pathetic. Don’t you think so, baby?” she teases you, making you whine more.

you speak before even thinking about the words that leave your lips. “no! i’m not pathetic.”

ellie’s face visibly drops at that. you know you’re truly in for it now. you have the audacity to talk back? ellie can have what you’ll think is the audacity to make you work even harder for her forgiveness now. after all, she’s always shown you she can play meaner than you.

“oh, is that so,” she asks as she raises an eyebrow before continuing, “guess i’ll just have to to make you listen. get on your knees properly. now!”

you scramble to follow her orders as you watch intently watch to see what her next move is. to your surprise, you see the strap bounce as she pulls down her pants and boxers in one movement. your previous assumption that that’s what she went to get while you stripped down is correct.

ellie starts up again, her condescending tone immediately shining through. “i can see you practically drooling, baby. now, here’s what is going to happen-“

you interrupt her, feeling an even stronger craving for her warm affection now. “e-ellie? kiss? please? ‘m really sorry.”

“you’re sorry, huh?” she lets your interruption slide.

you frantically nod. “yes, really, really sorry! pretty please els, i want a kiss.” a permanent pout seemingly etches upon your lips.

you think she’s going to give in as she leans in closer, but she doesn’t. she roughly grabs your chin instead, forcing you to make eye contact with her. her rough grip on you has your lips puckering, almost seemingly to tease you.

“you’re going to have to work for that kiss. time to let me use that mouth of yours for something more useful than mouthing off. you’ll get your kiss later, but only if you can be a good girl for me first.”

knowing it’s pointless to argue, you lean in to give the tip of her strap a kiss. you pause before you wrap your lips around the tip, giving it an experimental suck. ellie’s always told you she swears she can feel it as if it’s attached to her body. she even swears it could probably make her come, in which you always call her a loser after.

a soft gag can be heard as ellie pushes your head down on her plastic cock. your girlfriend doesn’t think she has to play nice with you after all your attitude from today. she also maybe not-so-secretly loves to watch the tears fall from your eyes as she moves your head up and down.

ellie feels absolutely ruined as she watches your mouth take her. god, how she wishes she could feel you like this. she does the second best thing she can think: she moves the strap lower so it’ll rub her clit as you suck her off.

the guttural moan you let out when you catch onto her makes the strap vibrate— ellie thinks she could come on the spot. she carelessly chases that feeling, making you gag, which makes her more frantic in return. ellie loves when you just let her use you now she wants to.

“fuck, baby. you don’t know how crazy you’re driving me right now. shit. you’re such an angel.”

a few more seconds is all it takes before ellie’s being pushed over the edge. legs trembling, she starts to see stars in her eyes. pure bliss has taken over her whole body. she continues to spout out her praises of how well you’re doing as she rides out her orgasm.

her incredulous laugh is the only sound filing the room after she manages to whisper out a “fuck”. she grabs you chin, forcing you to look up at her again. “holy shit, babe. i think you deserve your kiss now, yeah?”

the speed at which your nod makes you both dizzy. “yes! yes, please. was so, so good? right?”

giving into your pleas, ellie leans in to give you a kiss on the lips. her gentle kiss largely contracts her rough behavior that was less than two minutes ago. you can make out the faint taste of some of the cherry chapstick you gave her last week. you both melt more into the kiss.

after pulling away and wiping away the drool off of your chin, ellie groans after fulling taking in your current state. she needs to ruin you immediately. there’s no way she can spend another second without her hands on you. she knows she needs to give in now. “fuck. get on the bed.”

you don’t bother to respond. you all but fling yourself onto the bed, and into the position you know she likes. ellie always has you on your back, leaning against the pillows when she’s rewarding you. something or another about it being her turn to pleasure you.

barley giving you time to recover from just moments ago, ellie rolls your nipples around with her thumbs. your moans start to quiet down as she leans over to make out with you. your body starts feels warm in the best way possible.

starting to feel desperate again, you whine for her to do something more. “need you. please? i deserve it now. did what you said!”

“yeah, you’re right.” is the only reply ellie gives you before she starts moving down your body.

your breath catches in your throat as her fingers trail down your thighs. an excited tremble runs through your body as you watch it unfold. hands parting your legs, ellie practically whimpers at the sight of seeing your sticky cunt on display for her. she takes no time in sticking two fingers in you

the sudden intrusion makes your back arch with pleasure. you watch ellie work her fingers in and out of you through pleasure-driven hooded eyes. had your eyes been open, it’d be hard to miss the smirk plastered on ellie’s face.

ellie suddenly pulls out of you, causing you to cry out. she’s quick to soothe you. “baby, ‘m just taking my fingers out so i can slut you out on my strap. no need to worry that pretty little head.”

your giggle in response is cut short the second you start to feel ellie push into you. your hands find her back, starting to dig your nails in as she sinks all the way into you. a strangled moan leaves your lips. you feel so full. so good.

“oh. my. god.” it’s the only think you can think of to say now.

“mhm, feels good, my pretty girl, and yeah, just take it” are the only responses you get back from ellie. she’s also in her own little blissed out world with you.

wet sounds mixed with both of your incoherent moaning fill up the bedroom— you’re sure the neighbors can hear by now. but there’s no way you could you possibly care about that when your girlfriend is fucking you so hard that you’re seeing stars. every stroke makes you drip on the sheets even more.

ellie’s left thumb finds your clit as she starts to fuck you faster. your moans turn into incoherent babbling about how good you feel, thank you’s, and pleas for her to keep going. the feelings of sweet release start to wash over you like waves in the ocean. you feel as if you’re drowning with pleasure.

each thrust makes the room spin faster for you. ellie’s always felt amazing inside of you. your whole body is ignited with pleasure as you take everything ellie is giving you. you feel so close. any second now you’ll be the one cumming all over her cock.

picking up on this, ellie starts to speak normally again. “oh baby, are you gonna cum for me? gonna get my cock all wet for me, hmm? let go, baby, just let go.”

the second she tells you to let go is the second you hit peak bliss. your entire body twitches as your orgasm washes over you. ellie prolongs it by fucking you through it. she always makes you feel every last bit of your orgasm. and god, you haven’t felt this fucked out in a while now. you don’t think you’ll be walking normally for at least a day or two.

“baby?” ellie is the first to speak, like usual.

“els?”

“think you can go again? think you can handle me fucking you again?”

you know she’s feeling full of herself right now. she always does after she fucks you like this. “dunno, els. feeling very sensitive i think,” is your semi-questioning answer. you know she likes to overstimulate you.

“well that’s just too bad isn’t it? gonna have to give me another orgasm before i can forgive you for being a brat today. can’t be a brat anymore if i fuck you stupid and quiet, huh?”

your eyes snap open fully again after that. ellie’s freckled face is the closest thing in your line of vision. she’s wearing her classic look of fake sympathy on it. you’ve finally accept the fate of what’s going to be a very long night.

pouting, you question her, “can i have another kiss first at least?”

“yeah,” is the last thing ellie responds with before she crashes her lips against yours.

tag list: @cowgirlcherrie @cherriesxinthespring @ellies-princess @abbyskitty @dropsofs4turn @ellabsprincess @angelbill @cosmikoo @sosobaker @ellieismybbg

#ellie willams x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou2 #tlou smut #tlou fic #ellie williams au #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams blurb

1K notes · View notes

maevesheart · 4 months

Text

FOOLS - PART II

CORIOLANUS SNOW X CAPITOL!READER

note: continuing to use the mars family name for reader, but different storyline than tolerate it. i recommend listening to fleetwood mac’s “storms” while reading :)

PART I // PART II // PART III

summary: only fools would fall for coriolanus snow, and you’re the biggest fool of them all.

wc: 7.5k (she’s a long one)

tw: smut, pet names, curse words

Coriolanus had kept his promise, and that next morning, you awoke to the sounds of Coryo’s small snores and the chirping of birds outside.

You raked your nails through his soft curls, now a little messy from his deep slumber. He lightly stirred, and you giggled, he was so pretty with half his face smashed into your pillow, back to the ceiling and one arm tucked securely around your waist. You could really get used to this.

“A photo will last longer,” Coryo’s hoarse voice cuts through the silence, catching you staring at him. “You’re just so pretty,” you smile, “how could I not stare?”

He gives your hip a tight squeeze, causing you to giggle.

“Goodmorning, gorgeous,” he murmurs, sitting up and placing a kiss on your temple.

“Goodmorning,” you chirp back, watching as he rises from the bed, removing his top. He throws it to the floor, and then pulls off his socks, going for his pants next.

“Woah, steady tiger!” you joke, earning a chuckle from him.

“Just going to shower. Would love if you’d join me,” he smirks, lust dripping from his words.

“Normally you know I wouldn’t decline, but we have to be down at the Academy at 9… or well, you have to be at the Academy…” your situation still hadn’t completely settled yet, you were disappointed to be taken out of the competition, but you couldn’t fathom meeting an end like Arachne’s.

Coryo nods, “I’m sorry, darling. I’ll win for you,” he winks, opening your en-suite bathroom door and stepping into the room.

You decide you’ll go get him a clean uniform from your elder brother, Perseus’s, room; he graduated two years ago, so his uniform was still in crisp condition, and he and Coryo shared the same muscular, broad frame.

Percy was a Major in the Peacekeepers, currently probably keeping people in line in District 1. He hadn’t been home since his graduation two years ago, except for the brief visits during the holidays or someone’s birthday. Duty calls, as your father would proudly claim when describing Percy.

It was still early, but you knew that your father was awake, no doubt. Probably sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and the newspaper in his hands.

Luckily for you, Percy’s room was directly across the hallway from yours, a straight-shot.

You scurried across, shuffling around in his closet, the bright red uniform sticking out compared to his rather black and blue wardrobe.

Percy was a tad bit taller than Coryo, but it would do for one day. Coryo didn’t have time to go home, and if he walked down wearing an Academy uniform, your father was sure to believe he arrived this morning. He wouldn’t be too pleased knowing he spent the night.

You pulled the uniform off its respected hanger, took a pair of socks, and then some dress shoes from the floor of his closet. Percy could spare a pair, after all, he had about 20 pairs of identical shoes.

You opened his door, ready to exit the room, looking up to meet the suspicious eyes of your older sister, Persephone.

Where you and Percy were close and told each other almost everything, you and Persephone were distant and hardly trusted each other. Never since she ratted you out years ago for hiding a bottle of posca under your bed.

“Why were you in Percy’s room?” she questions, words like daggers.

You roll your eyes, but fear begins to creep into your body.

You have the uniform in your arm which is hidden by Percy’s door, the only thing visible are the extra pair of dress shoes, hanging from your hand.

“Why do you have his shoes?” she sneers, finally noticing the footwear.

You ignore her, finally pushing past, the uniform meeting her gaze. Her eyes narrow, trying to connect the dots on why you’d need a male’s Academy Uniform.

“I’m going to cut up the fabric and make some bows, you know I need some new ones. And I’m going to mail the shoes to Percy, he wrote to me requesting them,” the lies were mediocre, at best. You had more than enough money to go out and buy some new bows, and you have Avoxes who could easily make them for you. For the shoes, Percy didn’t wear shoes other than the ones that paired with his uniform, but Persephone never paid enough attention to him to know that.

You get lucky, and Persephone doesn’t question you further, nose up in the air as she continues down the hall, the sound of her loafers echoing off the walls as she continues down the hall.

Finally back in the safety of your four walls, you let out a sigh of relief, throwing the clothing onto the now made bed, and the shoes onto the floor.

The Avoxes must have come in while you were gone. You were suddenly very thankful that they couldn’t talk, meaning they wouldn’t be able to snitch.

You hear the shower turn off, the cease of the sound of water. Coryo comes out next, just a towel tied around his waist. You have to keep yourself back from drooling, watching water droplets fall down his chest.

His hand rakes through his hair, his curls dripping water onto your expensive rug.

“I got you one of Percy’s old uniforms, and some shoes,” you explain, bashfully, feeling his eyes all over your body.

You were dressed in your silk pajamas from last night, a rose-pink tank top and little shorts, suddenly feeling very exposed under Coryo’s gaze.

“Quick, dress. Cook made breakfast, you can get something before you have to leave for the Academy,” you usher him towards the outfit, picking up his clothing from before, quickly bringing them to the laundry basket in your closet.

“I’ll have them washed and bring them to you later, and don’t worry about returning the uniform or shoes,” you throw a smile over your shoulder at him, flipping through your clothing options for the day.

“Y/N, I will return them,” he shakes his head. You know he hates to accept help, but you love him. And when you love someone, you help them.

“Seriously, Coryo. Percy is gone, and he’s graduated, so it's not like he needs it anyways. He has plenty of shoes, he won’t miss one pair,”

Coryo looks down at the shoes, last season's best design, straight out of the box it seems. To most people, your family's money would be intimidating, but not to Coriolanus. He strived to be able to support you the way your father does, to be able to buy you the things that your father buys you now.

Not willing to press the issue further, he pulls on the outfit, fitting relatively perfect except for the extra length in the sleeves and pants, but no one will notice. He slips on the fresh socks and Percy’s fine shoes, fitting like a glove.

You pull on a simple pair of white form-fitting pants, a white long-sleeve blouse that has a large bow in the front, and some dark navy-blue pumps that accentuate your long legs.

Coryo’s eyes take over your now more conservatively-dressed body, pausing to stare at the way the slightly-too-tight pants hug the curves of your ass perfectly, and the top of your cleavage that peeks out in the opening of the bow.

“Alright, you go down first, that way my father won’t assume you’ve been up here this whole time,”

Coryo smirks while nodding, he wants everyone to know you’re his, but the public displays will have to wait until you’re out of your penthouse.

Coryo leaves, giving you a quick kiss to your lips before exiting.

After a few seconds, you follow suite, hearing the conversation flowing from the kitchen.

Coryo is standing next to the kitchen table when you enter, hand on his chest as he laughs over one of your fathers (probably not very funny) jokes.

You walk over, placing your hand on the outside of Coryo’s arm, leaning down to peck your father’s cheek.

“Goodmorning, shining star. Did you sleep well?” he asks, taking a quick sip from his cup of coffee.

“Always do, daddy. Good morning to you as well, Coriolanus,” you smile, catching the glint in Coryo’s eye as he nods back to you.

“Coriolanus here was just telling us how he stopped by say good morning, darling. How caring,” your mother swoons, placing her hands over her heart.

“That is very considerate, thank you,” you look back to him, hand still on his arm.

Persephone, sat in between your mother and father, looks down to where the two of you are touching, eyes flitting down to see Percy’s old shoes on Coriolanus’s feet, and connecting the dots as to why you really needed his old uniform.

She catches your eye, and shakes her head, and you know you’re caught. But you’re not scared of her, not anymore. You slightly lift your head, showing your defiance.

“Alright, I’m going to run some errands and go find a dress for the opera later, daddy,”

“Okay, darling. Once again, it was splendid to see you, young Snow.”

Coriolanus returns the compliment, following you as you head for the front coat closet, retrieving your old fox fur coat, the sharp orange contrasting with the dark blue in your shoes. You throw your navy bag over your shoulder and guester for Coryo to exit first, extending your hand to the door.

“Y/N!” Persephone is marching down the hall. You urge Coryo to continue, assuring him that you’ll be right behind him.

“Are you mad?” she sneers, face mere inches away from your own.

“What are you on about now, Persephone?” you roll your eyes, ready to escape from your neurotic sister.

“I will play dumb this one time, Y/N. But I know the Snow family just as well as you do. And Coriolanus Snow is a cunning, deceitful boy. Only a fool would allow themselves to fall for him, let alone help him.” she shook her head, placing a hand tenderly on your shoulder.

“Don’t be a fool, Y/N,”

You shoved her hand away, taking a step back away from her.

“You just don’t know him the way I do, Persephone. Mind your own business.”

With that, you turned on your heel, slamming the front door behind you.

The bell rings out as you enter Fabricia Whatnot’s shop, Tigris quickly pulling you into her arms.

You had asked her to design your dress, knowing there was no one more suited for the job than Tigris Snow.

“Oh, Y/N, you are just going to play so beautifully! I’ve been so excited all week, telling all the clients how lucky I am to know the artist herself!”

You blushed, shaking your head. “You flatter me,”

She tuts, pulling you over to the small platform, gesturing for you to stand up on it, and slip on the dress hanging in front of the mirror.

It was beautiful, long and a deep scarlet red. It was sleeveless, and a ballgown, large billows of fabric falling out from the cinched waist. A large bow sat at the back, right on your waist and above your bum, the tails of the bow flowing down to the floor, creating a train. Bows were your signature touch on every item you wore, you made sure of it.

“Oh, Tigris,” you murmured as she helped you step into the dress, pulling it up your perfectly sculpted curves.

She smiled, zipping up the backs, the hidden corset within the dress hugging you tight, accentuating your hips and waist. It billowed out perfectly, showcasing your cleavage strategically, leaving enough to the imagination while showing off what you were assessed with. The dress glimmered in the bright lights of the shop, making you shine like a star.

Once she was satisfied with her work, Tigris pulled back, hands covering her mouth in awe.

“You look like a princess,” she complimented, watching you twist and turn in the mirror, smiling as you took yourself in.

“You are fabulous, Tigris. This dress is everything I wanted and more,” you pull her in for a hug, endless thanks falling from your lips.

She helps you out of the design, and packs it into a gown bag for you to bring home.

As you pay for the dress, she makes light conversation, asking, “Have you seen Coryo recently? He disappeared last night to check on Lucy Gray and hasn’t returned home since.”

You feel like you’ve been hit by a rebel bomb when the words leave her mouth, brain failing to place the pieces together.

Did he see her before he came to you? Or did he once again sneak from your bed to visit his pitiful songbird?

You composed yourself, not willing to be embarrassed in front of his cousin.

“I walked him to the Academy this morning, and then made my way over here. He seemed perfectly normal,” you stated, when deep down you wanted to rip all of the curls off of his perfect head.

Tigris sighs in relief, handing you the gown bag.

“I’ll see you later. You’ll perform wonderfully, I know it,” you smile at her compliment, bidding goodbye, while a silent fire rages within your belly.

The ride home is short, and soon you’re hanging up the marvelous dress in your walk-in closet, bare feet against the cold marble tiles.

For your recital, you had decided on one simply instrumental piece, and then one where you sang. You were nervous, though you had been practicing for ages. You had sang while playing at a few parties, but when you were a guest, people never paying much to you. This time, all the attention would be on you, and you had to make sure this performance was perfect.

Usually in the Capitol, the only successful singers were those who sang in the opera, but you had a rich and smooth voice, one that many would die for. The original song you had picked to sing was a classic, one that everyone would be expecting and familiar with.

But you now decided that you wanted to stand out, give them something they aren’t expecting. It would either be detrimental or skyrocketing, and you were choosing to believe it would be the latter.

You tried to calm your ever-present nerves, smoothing your hands onto the front of your gorgeous dress, toying with the massive sapphire stones on your ears. A matching necklace hung deep from your neck, into your cleavage. They were your mothers, a token of pure beauty and wisdom, something you were hoping would come to you.

You needed to calm down. Stress never mixed well with your mind. You had decided on a song; it was from the old world. Something all the guests sitting before you had most likely never heard. It was soulful, slow, and emotional. You hoped you would pull a few heartstrings, maybe get some audience members to cry. With your voice, nothing was unlikely.

Coriolanus had been rushing around backstage for the past few minutes, wanting to steal you for a few moments alone. He wanted to wish you luck, not having seen you since you walked him to the Academy days ago.

He felt like you were avoiding him, the Avoxes not letting him into your home, you only speaking to Clemmie and Sejanus at school…he was confused about what he could have possibly done, questioning Tigris and Sejanus, but neither could decipher it themselves.

He had asked various staff members where you were, all giving different answers. It was like you told them not to tell him where you were.

Finally, he rounded a corner, eyes settling on your back.

He gawked at the dress, practically eye-fucking you. Your hair was in long curls down your back, and as you turned to face him, he saw a deep red color on your lips, matching the shade of your dress.

The last person you wanted to see was Coriolanus, but as your eyes settle on his piercing blue ones, you know you’re in for it.

You stay put, unwavering as he strides up to you, eating you up with his eyes.

“You are the most marvelous thing I have ever seen,” he compliments, going in for a kiss, expectant lips meeting your cold cheek.

He is taken aback, confidence slightly faltering as you cross your arms against your chest, eyes on his – or should you say Percy’s – shoes, the ones you had given him before you knew him as the traitor he is.

He watched as you looked in every direction but his, trying your hardest not to give into his gaze.

He takes your face in his hands, moving your head so your eyes meet his, anger burning in the back of your pupils. You had been pushing yourself away from him the past few days, as it was clear Lucy Gray demanded all his time and attention.

“Not with your songbird?” you sneer out, venom seeping from your words. Coriolanus’s eyes narrow as he realizes that this is what the avoidance has been about.

“Darling, I already told you that she means nothing to me. Less than nothing, she is district. I am to take care of her if she is supposed to win, don’t let it get to you,” he is soft with his words, care laced within every consonance.

You want to believe him, you really do, but it seems his words don’t match up with his actions.

“Once you can show me you truly mean your words, I will listen. Besides, I think it’s time for you to take your seat, Mr. Snow. The show is about to start.”

Coryo is raging as he makes his way back to the box seats you provided him, sitting back in the seat between Grandma’am and your mother. Your words were replaying in his mind, not understanding how you couldn’t see that you were all he wanted. Not some flamboyant little girl from District 12.

He knew, deep down, that Lucy Gray was becoming important to him. He tried to deny it, but he couldn’t. The more time he spent with her, he began to sympathize with her, trying to ease her pain as much as possible.

The thick, dark green curtains covering the ornate stage pulled back, revealing a black glossy grand piano, likely a fortune, and you sat on the adjacent bench, your dress billowing out from your back. It was gorgeous. Your mother turned to compliment Tigris’s work, as well did Persephone. It was the most beautiful dress that had ever been crafted in Panem.

Coriolanus watched with adoration as your fingers delicately danced across the black and white keys of the piano, playing the original piece perfectly. The audience watched in awe, a beautiful girl playing a piano even more beautifully. It was captivating, how someone so gentle and caring could play such a dramatic piece, a song with such emotion that it brought tears to many people’s eyes. You chose this particular piece on purpose, it was one that Coriolanus had asked for you to write years ago, when the two of you were just close friends who messed around in your family’s music room.

He froze still, the notes going straight to his nervous system, setting him into overdrive. You were performing for him, and he couldn’t decide if it was the most romantic thing he had ever seen, or the most infuriating. You had just been chastising him, but now you were playing his song, the one you wrote for him.

The song became fast, striking. People would be talking about this piece for weeks, it would be drilled into young students' minds the next time they sat on a similar bench. On the program they had given everyone when they entered, named the song “A Snow Waltz”. You could not have been more obvious if you tried, and the idea of having a song written and named after him sent Coriolanus spiraling, wanting to kiss the sense out of you that very moment.

He sat in disbelief as the elaborate tune turned into something slower, something more calculated.

Then you began to sing, and he knew he was done for.

“Every night that goes between, I feel a little less,”

The audience sat upright, eyes wide as they ingested your words, ones that Coriolanus knew you had pored over for weeks, trying to find the most fitting song for your relationship. And based on the first two lines, he wasn’t feeling overly pleased with your song of choice.

“As you slowly go away from me, this is only another test,”

And then he understood. This isn't a love ballad. You weren’t professing your love for him in the most public way possible… you were claiming it back.

“Every night you do not come, your softness fades away,”

The emotion in your voice is strong and compelling, anyone who is listening can sense the sorrow in your words, the pain you must have endured.

Coriolanus now knows that he has caused this pain. He is the reason for the best performance the Capitol has seen in a long time.

“Is there anything left to say? Every hour of fear I spend, my body tries to cry, living through each empty night, a deadly call inside,”

He looks around, engrossed faces all around him. Grandma’am’s eyes are glossed over, and Tigris is dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. Your father is holding your mother’s hand, tight. Sejanus is upright, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

“I haven’t felt this way I feel, since many a years ago. But in those years and the lifetime passed, I did not deal with you, I know.”

Your voice ceases, a lovely piano piece following your words, giving Coryo a chance to finally digest what he’s just heard. You’re professing great fondness for someone, admitting that the relationship is fading away, running its course.

Your voice faintly picks back up, adding in a few lyrics to compliment the complex piano piece.

“She said, ‘Every night he will break your heart’, I should’ve known from the first, I’d be the broken hearted”

Coryo’s chest is tight. You look up and out to the crowd, eyes falling onto his. He sees the emotion, the sadness. He knows that it’s his fault, and could’ve prevented it.

“I loved you from the start, and now not all the prayers in the world, could save us, oh save us,”

The piano begins to slightly fade, and you stand from the bench, dress flowing as you make your way to the middle of the stage, bowing for the now standing and cheering audience, bouquets of flowers thrown to your feet.

As you take your bow, your eyes are back on him, but this time, his hold the emotion.

The show was a success, a vibrant grin across your beautiful face as you flitted around to greet all the guests. Various old family friends, distant relatives, even some of your professors at the Academy.

After the performance, your parents find you first, kisses pressed to your cheek, and comforting hugs as tears slip from your mother’s eyes.

“Panem hasn’t seen talent like yours in forever, darling.” Your father speaks, pride sparkling behind his eyes, bearing the same color as your own.

You blush, nodding at his words, accepting his compliment.

You break from them, finding the Plinth’s next. Sejanus gives you a kiss on each cheek, rambling about how your talent must have been given to you from the stars above.

You giggle, letting him and his mother rain down on you with millions of compliments, all more enchanting than the last.

“Thank you for being here, Mr. And Mrs. Plinth. It means so much,” you nod, taking Mrs. Plinth’s hands into yours.

“Darling, believe me when I say you’ve just done something the Capitol hasn’t seen in decades. You will be more talk than the games, that’s for sure,”

And with a kiss to your temple, Serbo Plinth walks away, Sejanus and his mother trailing.

The room that all the guests were brought in after was a large room; high ceilings, a plush (likely expensive) rug, rows of tables with regal chairs, and various portraits of Panem’s most prominent leaders and talents up on the walls.

You spotted the portrait of your father and Serbo Plinth easily, it was the largest in the room, other than the Presidential portrait. It was commissioned after the war, to show how your father and Mr. Plinth had been the greatest allies throughout the war, proving true to the president.

You were sat at the center table, where everyone could come over to speak to you, or watch as you ate. Your fathers portrait hung above your seat, a silent expression of how the most successful in Panem continued to produce the best, and only the best.

You looked at who would be sitting next to you, your father on your left, and Sejanus on your right. You were happy with that, you would speak to Sejanus through dinner, ask him how the games were going.

You hadn’t been paying much attention to the mentorships after your dismissal, hearing bits and pieces from Clemensia during school. They had a small meeting, gathering information about their respective tribute.

Excusing yourself quickly, despite the table still being empty as the guests continued to make conversation, you slipped through the crowds and went to the ladies room.

You touched up on your makeup, and quickly returned back to the table. To your surprise, Coryo was now sitting in the seat that was labeled for Sejanus.

You tried your hardest to act nonchalant as you sat back down, your father acknowledging your presence was a small pat on the knee, and then he turned back to Mr Plinth on his other side. Sejanus was now across the table from you, all sorts of different food items piled high on his fine china plate.

Coryo’s eyes were burning into the side of your face, you could feel his harsh gaze. In all honesty, you were quite scared to turn to him. Your song was compassionate, and your deliverance of it was in the most public possible way. The best from the Capitol watching it in person, and everyone through the districts watching it on the soon-to-be Hunger Games broadcasting screens.

You were the Gem of Panem, their princess. This had secured your place in society, you had established yourself among the most brilliant, the commanders, the leaders. You were proud of yourself.

Criolanus stood from the table, going to gather food onto his plate. You hoped he would gather lots; it was all paid for by your father, and Coriolanus needed to eat. You always worried about him, even if you weren’t happy with him.

He returned, plate piled up, like you hoped, and you accidentally slipped a small smile, a tiny corner of your mouth going up in happiness.

Coryo caught it. He was always able to catch even the faintest changes in your expressions and demeanor.

Once he had taken his seat, and loud conversation engulfed the room, you finally spoke.

“I thought Sejanus was meant to be sat there,” you take a small bite of steamed carrots.

“Last minute change, I suppose,” Coryo lightly shrugs his shoulders, turning his head to get a better look at you.

“Mhm,” you breathe out, blush tickling your cheeks ever so lightly.

“You played beautifully out there. And your voice, well, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. Why didn’t you tell me you’d be singing?” Is that… hurt behind his words? You turn to look at him, eyes finally meeting, and you swear you see the faintest stain of tear tracks on his cheeks, filling your stomach with fulfillment.

“Well, you’d been too busy. I didn’t want to burden you while you save your songbird,” you try your hardest to mask the words, but you know he can hear the venom and jealousy peeking out from behind them.

He doesn’t look smug, no, he looks hurt. Extremely hurt.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, placing his barely used fork onto the table.

“I know you visited her the night that you came to me.” You whisper, composure starting to crumble.

All he does is nod, proving your accusation to be true. You lightly slouch at his silence, so that was his response? He has nothing else to say? “Is that all you have to say?” you whisper, you knew if you tried to speak any louder your voice would crack, giving your emotion away.

“What is there to say, Y/N? You played our song up there, The Snow Waltz. You sang a song about our relationship, one where the words insinuated that you had once loved me but my betrayal was too strong. Help me understand you, Y/N, how could I possibly respond to that?” He was closer to you now, downcast faces mere inches away.

To any onlooker, you two would look like a few teenagers who had deep set feelings for each other, feelings that must be voiced at that very second.

You had a feeling that he would be upset with your song choices, that it would hit him deep in the chest, give him the same feeling that he had recently been giving you.

“I played your song because I love you. And then I sang that song because I want you to know that I don’t feel loved by you.”

Coriolanus feels as if a blow has gone straight to his gut, knife clattering as he accidentally drops it on the table.

His eyes are hard, unreadable. But they’re glossy, the only part that is giving him away. You read him better than any other person, and he knows this.

He stands up, chair screeching as it pushes out behind him. You watch with wide eyes, staring up at him. He spares you one last solemn look, a slight shake of his head, before he is storming off, down the isles of tables and through hundreds of guests, straight to the doors.

You feel possessed, your feet pulling you up and forcing you after him, feeling as if they have a mind of their own. Everyone is silenced now, eyes following your every move. The young, beautiful, and talented Mars girl chasing the abrasive, orphaned, tarnished Snow boy.

“Fool,” Persephone mutters under her breath, shaking her head.

You find Coryo in the empty lobby, no one but you and him.

He is pacing, hands in his hair, mumbles of inaudible words spilling from his perfect lips, you want to scream at him. Scream at him for showing up before the performance, scream at him for leaving your dinner. You want to scream at him for leaving your bed to see Lucy Gray, for telling you he loves you and then going and proving to do the opposite.

“Coriolanus,” you announce your presence, slow steps up to his brooding figure as he ceases his pacing, eyebrows twisting together.

He first ignores you, going and taking a seat on the golden bench beside the entrance for the auditorium.

You walk over, perching next to him. He timidly reaches a hand out, laying it onto the red dress, smoothing down the thick material.

“You assume the worst in me, Y/N.” he shakes his head, light amusement behind his words.

“I already told you what I believe, Coriolanus. You tell me beautiful words, give me special moments. But you then contradict yourself, going back to her. I know you need to win the prize, I know, I know, but I love you. And you’re supposed to love me. And when you love someone, you don’t abandon them for another person,” tears brim on your eyes, threatening to spill out and ruin your flawless makeup.

“I love you, more than anything in the entire planet, Y/N. Can’t you see that I am helping Lucy Gray to win because that prize ensures I can give us the future that we deserve. The future you deserve…I want to give that to you. To be able to continue to live your life as luxuriously as you do now. Dresses, jewelry, pianos. Anything you would ever want.” His voice is soft, wavering.

You stare at him, lips slightly parted, not expecting him to voice his deepest insecurities.

“I don’t care about all those things, Croyo…” you murmur, grabbing his hands in his lap.

“Darling, I just watched you play the most highly acclaimed piano concert that Panem has seen in decades. You are a spectacle, a performer. You love your piano, and your dresses, and all the things that make you pretty, the things that make you shine. You are meant to be a star.” his voice drips with desperation, embarrassment. He thinks the life he lives now isn’t good enough for you.

“I need Lucy Gray to win so that I can give you the life full of luxury that you deserve. So that I can buy you a new piano every year, a new ruby ring every birthday. Darling, it’s all for you.” his hands come up, cupping your face. They are soft, rubbing your skin.

“Love me, Coriolanus. Show me that you can.”

With that, he grips your jaw, hard, and yanks you into him, a small whimper falling from your lips. He is rough, pent up anger finally spilling out. “I love you,” he murmurs out, kissing your chin. “I love you,” he’s now on your neck, sucking as hard as he can, being sure to leave marks. “I love you, more than anyone else,”

He’s standing, pulling you up with him, his hands moving down to your biceps, lips back on top of yours, pulling you into the coat room.

He locks the door behind you two, pressing you against it.

His leg slotted between yours, keeping you pressed tight against the doorframe. His lips continued their vicious attack against your neck and collarbones, tongue gliding across the prominent bone.

You watched as he slowly trailed further down your body, getting onto his knees. He pulled back from your skin, watched from below as you panted, trying to catch your breath. With a final smirk, he flipped up your skirt and disappeared under the hem, hiking one of your knees over his shoulder.

Your breath hitched as you felt his hot breath over your clothed pussy, head falling back against the mahogany as he trailed a calloused finger over the red lace, cock twitching at the sound of your light moan.

His fingers toy with the lace, before ripping it off your legs, you hear the lingerie tear.

“Coryoooo,” you whine, upset that he just ruined your brand new panties.

“I’ll get you some new ones, darling,” he promises, throwing the disheveled garment to some corner of the closet. He grins, knowing some Avox will find the star performers panties sometime later tonight, and know she was fucked in the coat closet.

Before you have time to prepare yourself, Coryo is licking a strip up your folds, and then his mouth is sucking on your bud, whimpers falling from your lips, your hands digging into the wooden walls of the room.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, Coryo lapping you up, his lips ravenging you at an unbearable speed, pressure begging to brew in your stomach.

He knows the easiest way to get you undone is to give you head, and lucky you, he loved to do it.

His one hand squeezing the fat in your ass, kneading the sensitive skin.

You moan, loudly, when his tongue starts to circle around your clit, and he squeezes your ass extra hard: a warning.

The burning sensation in your core continues as he enters two fingers, pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace. Though you can’t see him, you know that he is smirking, hearing you fall apart above him.

Finally, the mix of his two fingers, tongue, and thumb rubbing circles around your clit causes you to finally come undone, legs shaking as Coryo drinks up all the juices you spill. His rough hands hold your legs up, and soon he’s out from under the dress, lips quick to attach to yours, making you taste all of your juices on his tongue.

He pulls away and smiles at you, “I love you,” he whispers, brushing your hair from in front of your face, fingers delicate and soft.

“I love you,” you smile, lightly melting into his touch.

“Can I fuck you now?” he smirks, a mischievous glint to eyes, fingers rubbing your jaw. “Please, pretty thing? I’ll show you just how much I love you…I’ll fuck it into you,”

His lips are re-attacking your neck, hands pulling down the zipper of your beautiful dress.

“When I’m president,” he pants out, your hands tangled in his hair, humming,

“I’m hanging this dress up for everyone to see, the most beautiful dress ever worn,” he finished, attacking your lips with his own. He’s sure your lipstick is smeared across his chin, likely off the corners of his lips. He doesn’t care, everyone should know that you’re his. He is the one who gets to kiss you, gets to fuck you.

He helps you step out of it, gently placing it over a near chair, not wanting to ruin the masterpiece.

“In fact, I’ll have a whole wing dedicated to you, my love. It’ll have dresses, coats, portraits..” you shut him up sucking on the sweet spot under his right ear, knowing it turns him on the most.

And you are right, watching him tear off his black coat and shred off his slacks, left in his boxers and white button down. He pulls you back into him, watching with lust blown pupils as your perfectly painted fingernails unbutton all the way down the shirt. You help him remove it, discarding it to the pile of his other clothing.

Then, his boxers are tugged down, carelessly kicked off, and he’s back to you, pressing you harder into the wall.

He tells you to jump, and you oblige, legs wrapped around his hips as he lines himself up with you. “Just one more, princess,” he mewls, noticing your sudden nervousness. You nod, knowing Coryo would stop if you became too overstimulated.

You dig your head into his shoulder, biting the hard skin as he pushes in, your pussy taking him so perfectly that he almost passes out.

The two of you hadn’t had sex in weeks. Sure, you had done other things, but you hadn’t done the thing that ties two people so closely together, barring ever single part of themselves.

His hands are secure around your ass, moving you in synchronization while he relentlessly continues to bottom out in you.

“Coryo,” you moan, slightly muted by it being said deep into his shoulder.

“Taking me so well, baby,” he groans, feeling himself slowly untie. You feel the same sensation, his dick hitting your sweet spot so perfectly with every thrust.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, and then move your free hand down between the two of you, massaging circular motions to your clit.

Coryo goes even faster, earning whines and various other noises from your lips, beginning to squirm from the sensitivity.

“Come for me, darling,” he says, eyes following your every movement. You begin to massage faster, head falling back against the mahogany door as his thrusts become sloppier.

The two of you come undone at the same time, Coryo lightly leaning against your body, slipping out before delicately dropping your leg.

He makes sure you’re able to stand up before walking away, gathering your dress, and helping you step back into it. He ties the corset, and then the zipper.

He slips back into his outfit, pulling up the slacks and sliding his feet into the shoes. You button up his top, and smooth down the collar. You go to run your fingers through his now slightly tangled curls, making them look as perfectly curled as they were when he arrived to the show.

Finally, he gets down on one knee, holding your heels. You prop a bare foot onto his knee, looking down at him with lust-blown pupils, swollen lips, your hair slightly messy and smudged lipstick. How he got so lucky, he has no idea.

He slides the expensive heel delicately onto your foot, like he’s scared of hurting you. As he begins to buckle it close, he cuts the silence.

“I love you, Y/N Mars. I love everything about you. Your voice, your eyes, your spirit. I love your dedication, your talent that so very few possess. I love how you care for me, and make sure I’m alright, always bringing me whatever I need. They say that love can arise from the most unsuspecting of places, and in my case, that was you. As a child, I would trail you like a lost puppy, always seeking your validation, some sort of indication that you saw me, knew me. I know we’ve had our initial clashes, loud, aggressive fights in the middle of class or in lunch, and I know you don’t always listen to me, and I don’t always listen to you, but you see me differently than anyone else, you see a side of me that I don’t know to anyone else. And amongst the original animosity, I found myself drawn to you, seeking your approval. The deeper I got to know you, the more I began to fall for you. Everything I’ve done, every person I’ve hurt, it’s all been for you. And now, here I am, professing my undying love for you. Love that will burn for as long as I live, as long as you’re by my side.”

You are speechless, mouth agape, Coriolanus’s glossy eyes raking over all your features. You were bewildered, wondering how something so romantic could come out of a man’s mouth who was simply doing-up your shoes.

He is still down on one knee, and once he’s finished your other shoe, you pull him up, arms winding tightly around his waist.

His large hands rub your back, holding you as close as possible. You dig your face into his chest, his chin atop your head.

A slight sniffle, and then you murmur out, “I love you, Coriolanus. I don’t know how I could’ve doubted you.” Persephone’s words echo in the back of your head, over and over again, “fool”.

tagged

@snowsgames

#coriolanus x oc #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow angst #maeve writes 🎀

296 notes · View notes

ooshu · 1 year

Text

"jae?"

summary: jaehyun buys johnny and mark some cuervo shots. he forgets the one thing that everyone says—stay away from your phone when you're drunk. note: jaehyun finishing his undergrad thesis, johnny and mark as a support system, and a lot of swearing/profanities, really. genre: pure and raging angst | word count: 1.7k — “one bott?” johnny asked.

“sure! this one’s on me.” jaehyun, with a sheepish grin on his face, replied. his cheeks were now hinting a shade of red. fucking adorable.

so why is jaehyun suddenly ecstatic about drinking cuervo and gulping it down straight as if it was… an ordinary non-alcoholic drink?

give the guy his moment. jaehyun’s thesis-making era has finally landed in the area of responsibility. out of all the frameworks and methods to be potentially used for his study (verbatim. legendary thesis), he is anxious. as much as he wants to bag that best thesis nomination from his architecture department, the thought of just getting it at the end of the sem sounds more convincing and realistic which is, well, quite a lonely take from a former A student turned mediocre due to sudden burnout, but that’s life now for some after the unforgiving turn of events embedded in the 2020 history records.

to tl;dr, jaehyun needs a drink and to get drunk. let him be, please? he’s used to bragging about his high alcohol tolerance but his primary goal is to get shitfaced, excuse the expression. a good hangover is needed by the morning; something to make him feel human again. the world is spinning quickly, and he needed to slow time just a little bit to cue his hazy vision and low inhibitions.

so the second cuervo arrived, right? jaehyun thanked the waiter and johnny and mark couldn’t help but laugh at how he was currently losing it all. he holds the golden bottle, his eyes fixed on the shot glasses, and when he poured, the drink spilled on the table. at this point, being drunk is no longer an excuse. his eyesight has also become worst over the years. what’s up with this guy, anyway? just go get yourself a LASIK surgery (to which jaehyun would only reply via text so dryly: lol)

johnny snatched the bottle from jaehyun and poured it into their shot glasses. in this kind of scenario, one would actually tap out and advise the rest who refuse to follow, but dang!, as the younger bro always says, it seems like jaehyun needed this the most. johnny knew the stress as he has already graduated (but still chose to enroll for a master’s degree afterward because the MA sneak beside his name sounds lit!), and mark is amused by jaehyun’s clumsy state anyways.

“mark, stop laughing.”

“oh, why?” mark looked at johnny with confusion.

“because next year, bro, you’re gonna be as shitfaced as jaehyun because of your thesis! haha!”

while the two bickers, the cuervo shots were going down on jaehyun like water. as he takes the nth shot of the night, he lowers the glass slowly and stared blankly at the two of them.

mark slightly gripped the hem of johnny’s shirt to break off the banter.

then he said “yo, the fuck?”

when the both of them faced jaehyun, his eyes were bloodshot… red?

“jaehyun, are you crying?” johnny asked.

“i broke… heart.” jaehyun muttered.

“huh?”

“shit, i broke it.”

“you broke what?”

mark dumbfounded, was just staring at jaehyun. johnny kept asking who, but jaehyun just keeps on speaking in codes.

“fuck, she said “i love you””

“dude... who?” mark asked. the atmosphere is getting serious as he mumbles what we can assume as his regrets. the two couldn’t really tell. at this point, jaehyun’s all over the place; incoherent.

“fuck,” jae cursed for the nth time. “i took it for fucking granted.”

“it was so exclusive. fuck, that ‘i love you’ was so exclusive.”

“fuck. fucking fool. the fuck, jae? i’m such a fucking headass.”

and bratatatat he goes. the other two gentlemen were listening attentively, hoping he’d spill a name or a clue of who he was referring to. but nothing comes out. as if jaehyun was stuck at the moment when the person said “i love you” to him. jaehyun was in a loop, like a broken record. and when he finally stopped blabbering and took another shot, his face was already on the table, and with eyes closed, he fell into a deep slumber.

and god, his position looks so uncomfortable. his arms were just hanging and flanging into the air. the younger noticed his state, so he decided to put jaehyun’s arms and palms over his legs.

“dude”, mark said to johnny. “are you sure he needs it for his thesis or that thing?”

—

when jaehyun woke up, mark was on his phone. johnny, on the other hand, was taking a puff from his vape that is wrapped around his neck. you know those dudes who are not so subtle about their vape life? displaying their vapes like an id, and is lit blue? strawberry-minty flavor, smells good though, in fair. but he would tell you to go away if ever you would want to try. “smoking kills!”, he would say. shoo!

“i feel like throwing up.”

“i’ll come with you. come on.” johnny offered.

they went inside the restaurant across from their al fresco space. johnny led the way toward the bathroom. the rest is history. jaehyun walked out from the bathroom stall and washed his hands and mouth. a little splash on his face was needed, too; just to sober up.

he is in fact, and indeed, sobered up; sound and with consciousness. he said “go ahead” to johnny and went back to their table. mark is texting, probably a hook-up, by now. but he never leaves the gang to give respect to the bro night. he was also curious about what happened to jaehyun, anyway.

but johnny isn’t surprised, like, at all. jaehyun is an eye candy in his university. he sure made his fair shares from time to time but the thing is, they don’t really talk about their flings and such. the pack isn’t a kiss-and-tell, the usual trashy friend group that reeks pride via body counts. and jaehyun would introduce if ever he gets in a situationship leading to commitment anyway. it’s just that mark has never seen this side of jaehyun.

but there is indeed a possibility that jaehyun has this hopeless romantic tendency given he must have watched 500 days of summer approximately 500 times by now, and still believes that summer finn is a bitch.

“drink some water”, mark handed a bottle.

“thanks.”

“so…”

johnny nudged mark. it was a signal to stop the interrogation. mark got social cues, thank god. they’ll let jaehyun spill at his own pace. the guy is still trying to recover. one of these days, he’ll remember and open up because perhaps, it did really get serious at some point.

but jaehyun opened his phone and checked his text messages. there was a message, waiting for a response sent almost ten months ago.

january 11, 2022, 01:11 am | you wrote:

home?

to which he now replied: november 10, 2022, 02:45 am | jaehyun wrote:

not yet

and i dont think ill everr be

jaehyun grabbed the half-empty cuervo and poured it into his glass. mind you, not the shot glass, the bottle itself. mark and johnny, once again, stared at each other. jaehyun poured the last bit of the golden bottle and drank it straight. he winced and his throat felt burning. he then continued typing on his phone.

october 10, 2022, 02:46 am | jaehyun wrote:

and i know it sounds tssstupid

but i think im still in love with you

not think

fuck

i am in love with you

ive always been in love with you

and i never said it

and i wish i couldve said it back whenever you say it

because fuck

you deserved to hear it so much

jaehyun was in the middle of his never-ending texts when his phone rang.

he let it ring a few times. the phone vibrating felt somehow pressuring for the guy. mark and johnny were just staring at jaehyun, waiting for his next move.

shit, it really is you.

jaehyun got up from his seat while gripping his phone quite tight and walked a few inches from their table, lingering on the feeling of the buzzes. he took a few deep breaths in and touched the green button.

“jaehyun? are you drunk?” he heard from the other side of the phone. “go home, please, jaehyun?”

jaehyun.

jaehyun. it’s no longer jae.

meanwhile, johnny and mark were squinting their eyes, trying to look out for the dumbstruck fool, trying to catch signals and connect the dots.

“jaehyun?”, he couldn’t breathe. it felt suffocating. “are you still there?”

“hey.”, jaehyun finally mustered up the courage to speak. “i know it’s been a while but-”

“do you need me to book you an uber, jaehyun?”

jaehyun. jaehyun. jaehyun. tears start to swell in jaehyun’s eyes. where the fuck did ‘jae’ go? he desperately wonders.

“please… please call me jae, please? love, please?”

“jaehyun…” you replied hesitantly. “times have changed.”

“just this time, please?” jaehyun desperately asked. “one last time. i just need to hear it again then i’ll go.”

the line felt silent despite the murmuring sounds of happy co-workers cheering for the weekend and the faint booming music to liven up the place. but jaehyun’s world is painted in monochrome; lonely, and lifeless.

“jae…”

“hey, love.”

“jae…”

“i’m gonna miss you so much; every single day, baby. every single day.”

“jae, jae, jae…”

hearing ‘jae’ coming from you sounds music to his ears.

and for the last time, he pretended it was just another call coming from you—those nights like this paralleled before when jaehyun refused to pick up your calls on a night out, shitfaced, while on the other line, there was you who were constantly worried on his whereabouts. but he always got home safely and always told you this:

“don’t wait for me okay?”

and then you played along.

“just go home safely, jae.”

but in a parallel universe, he wishes he ended the calls with this. and he finally said it, when it is now too late:

“i love you so much, love.”

and jaehyun heard a faint sob on the other line, just before the call abruptly ended.

jaehyun stared at his phone until everything became blurry and his tears flowed down his cheeks.

he opened the message app and scrolled through your thread, until he reached the last message you sent.

"home?"

but jaehyun, he was never coming home,

now that he has lost the keys along the way.

1K notes · View notes

faeskiss · 30 days

Text

A DANGEROUS GAME

Zaros x reader!

It’s been weeks since the trials have begun, life has constantly been dragging me down, it just gets harder and harder, every trial is more difficult and draining than the last

Having the throne is MY birthright, no ruler in Serulla has had to fight for it since a millennia, so WHY me? Sometimes, I just want to get away from it all, to run away, and never look back, but I can’t do that, I’d never do that to my mother and I CERTAINLY won’t let Zaros win so easily

I can’t believe there was a time where I pined over him like a naïve, halfwit being, that sort of behaviour was certainly not appropriate for a dignified, future regnant like me, but I have since corrected myself

I won’t tolerate his constant brawling or his scorn insults anymore, I have let him throw cruel insults my way many times before , ignoring his contempt on purpose, letting it go, for I have to uphold my family’s name so I certainly should not be seen going around engaging in useless disputes

But if he strikes again, it might just get ugly, and the nobles might just have a new scandal to talk about for the rest of eternity

I am currently standing in the corner of the ballroom, it’s become my favourite spot these days, a corner, but I fear I simply don’t have it in me to fake smiles and engage in asinine chatter with these duplicitous people tonight

the party is in full swing, people are dancing and getting drunk on wine and mindless gossip, yes another day, another party, "a well deserved break” as my mother likes to call it

I take another sip of my drink, that’s when I notice Zaros joking and laughing with a group of nobles, he then proceeds to give them the most charming smile I have ever seen, he used to smile at me like that…all.the.time, he's been doing this all night, dancing, mingling with every single person at this party except for me…….not that I care, I'd rather stay far, far away from him

a sudden wave of unease washes through me, why is he smiling at random people when he hasn’t even approached me all night? Am I really THAT uninteresting and repulsive to him? I thought he hated all nobles with a surging passion? So why is he smiling and laughing with them and NOT me?

Oh god, I sound like an obsessed lovefool, but seeing him be so affectionate and content with other people, well to put it lightly stings…..a bit, there was once a time in our lives where we were completely, inseparable, that in itself feels like a lifetime ago but it still hurts to reminisce …..is it…possible…that I’m jealous….right now?

I shake my head vehemently, no no no no, no it can’t be, it’s just the champagne getting to my head, I quickly put my glass down on the table near me, not liking the way the intoxicant is making me think, perhaps I just need to distract myself

I roam around the ballroom till I find my mother talking to the judges of the trials, reluctantly, I join in the conversation, they are talking about all the progress so far, oh god, why are they talking about the trials at a party that is meant to be a break FROM the trials…

“How are you liking the party my dear” my mother asks

“It’s lovely, thank you for organising it” I reply with a faint smile

“And how’s Zaros? Is he having fun?” she asks

I wouldn’t know cause he hasn’t spoken a word to me all night, but from the looks of it, he’s having a fucking blast

“I’m sure he’s enjoying himself as well” I say

I stand near the group, pretending to listen earnestly, but I can’t stop stealing glances at Zaros, the way he dances, his constant laughter, his soft smile, he just looks so happy, at this point my eyes are practically locked on him, that is until he catches me peering at him

Horrified, I abruptly turn away, so much so I’m pretty sure I strained my neck in the process

“Are you okay earis? You look a bit rattled” one of the judges asks me

“Oh no, no, no I’m perfectly fine, just a bit overwhelmed, you know how draining these parties can be” I reply awkwardly

The song ends and so does the dance with it, the sound of clapping and laughter echoes through the ballroom

“If you’re feeling tired please don’t hesitate to go and rest, you’re probably already exhausted from the stress of the trials, I

want you to feel your best and healthiest my love” says my mother as she gives me a warm smile

“You’re right, I should probably retire for the night, thank you for understanding” I say quite tiredly

“Well then, it’s been an enjoyable day but I must go and rest, it was a pleasure spending time with you all and I hope you all had a wonderful evening, good night!” I bid goodbye to the group and start to make my way out

I am almost out of the room when I suddenly feel someone grab a hold of my arm

confused and quite shocked at the sudden gesture, I turn swiftly, and when I do I am met with those familiar, piercing green eyes staring right into mine, mischief gleaming in them

“And where do you think you’re going?” asks Zaros in a low, strict tone

“I just feel a bit tired, so I thought I’d end the night early, why? Do you have a problem with that too” I reply, an unexpected irritation plaguing my voice

“Tired already? You haven’t even danced, my, my, you of all people should know that it’s rude for a royal to not engage with the party thrown by their own family, it’s not a good look on your part” he says with a stupid, sly smirk on his face

“Shouldn’t my disgrace only add to your elation?” I ask with all the heartlessness my voice can muster

“Oh trust me it does” he says with a stupid laugh as if I’ve shared an intriguing jest

“How about you quit your baseless play and tell me what you want, I have better places to be” I sneer

“What like your room?" he says with that same stupid laughter

"Well I was originally coming over to ask you to dance with me, but I got distracted by your cold demeanour, so back to what I actually approached you for, would you be so kind as to join me for a dance?” he asks

“I’m not sure if you’ve always been this stupid or it’s the wine talking, why would I dance with you after your constant jabs? I don’t care, leave me alone” I hiss

“Alright then, let’s make this a little more interesting, take it as a challenge, I challenge you to dance with me, if you refuse, you lose, and I’ll win, like always” he says with a hint of mischief in his voice

“Oh fuck you, as if I’ll fall for your stupid trick” I scoff

“Alright then, off to bed with you, loser” he replies in a slow mocking manner….

I can feel my anger, hot and red, slowly flaming up inside of me, I know I shouldn’t fall for his trap, but I can’t let him have this, not after all his constant insults, I’ll take this opportunity to fuck with his brain a little, two can play this game

“Fine, I’ll dance with you, but only.one.song” I say in a strict manner

“That’s more like it” he replies with that same stupid smirk

He offers me his hand, I have no choice but to take it, we make our way to the middle of the floor and suddenly everyone starts to gape in our direction, how could they not? two rivals sharing a dance is certainly a sight to keenly watch….

The music is rather slow and soulful, the kind you'd play at a wedding for couples to dance to….I can't believe I have to dance with him to such a song

He slowly encircles my waist with his arm, and grabs one of my hands, intertwining our fingers, my free hand resting on one of his shoulders, this form is rather intimate and it makes me blush a bit…..this is so embarrassing, we slowly start moving, it's nothing fancy and I mostly follow his lead

"God your form is utterly terrible tonight, certainly the worst out of anyone I've danced with so far at this party" he mocks

"Do you ever stop running your fucking mouth? WHY did you even ask me to dance with you?" I ask in frustration

"Oh please lighten up, I'm just messing with you, learn to take a joke for once" he replies in a annoyed manner

I roll my eyes and swallow my anger, I want to get back at him but I'm scared to cause a scene, people expect a certain grace and courtesy from me than him, I think I'd rather live up to that

He twirls and dips me once, I am aware of all the times his hands brush against my skin, gentle and subtle, there's a certain unexpected sincerity in his touch, it's alive with vulnerability and tenderness, something I definitely don't expect from him

he dips me again, and as I come up, he traces his fingers down my back and pulls me in, my chest flutters in response, what the hell is he doing? I suddenly realise the swift shift in the atmosphere between us, I instantly notice exactly HOW close he is to me right now, oh this is dangerous, so very dangerous

"Zaros what the hell are you doing? You're way too close!" I whisper to him frantically

"I am as close as I need to be" he says in a low, soft and magnetic tone

He suddenly turns me so that my back faces him, my mind is reeling and whirling with a million thoughts "as close as I need to be" what does that even mean? Is this one of his tricks to torture me? I should've never accepted his proposal, I should've just gone to sleep

That’s when I suddenly feel his voice sneak into my ears, I can feel my heartbeat quickening by the second, I can feel his warmth creeping up on me, it’s all such a feverish daze…

"By the way, don't think I forgot your constant stares in my direction earlier, do I really look that ravishing tonight?" he says, his voice is laced with reckless yearning and temptation so deep….I think I might drown in it if I’m not careful

“Don’t flatter yourself” I say with restraint

“I thought we promised to never lie to each other, hmm?” he replies

I stay silent, not really knowing how to respond

“Well one of us needs to be honest here, I think, you’re the most alluring being to grace these palace walls….dare I say this world? Sometimes I lie awake at night, thinking of those torturous lips of yours, what they would feel like against my own, to feel your skin melt under my touch, it’s funny actually, I’ve had partners before, but none of them have left me as lovelorn as you”

I try to speak, but my mouth fails me, I try to think but it’s like I’m paralysed, I am completely and utterly under his mercy,

The song is nearing it’s end and so is my composure, the only thing my mind can register is his agonizingly tempting voice and the scandalous words it whispers that are both, making me want to die of shame and kiss him till I forget my own name

"wh-where is all this coming from, I thought you loathed me?" I ask in a shaky voice

"Contempt and desire can co-exist, they're similar emotions in a way, both will make you go insane for the person you feel them towards and who wouldn't go insane for you" he says as he lifts my chin, his thumb lightly traces my lower lip, my body shudders in response to his touch, I've completely forgotten that people might be staring at us, but I couldn't care less, I can only hope that people are drunk out of their minds to even notice us, his hand travels back to my waist but this time his grip is tighter, we stare into each other's eyes for the rest of the dance, both unable to act on our heart's true desire for there is way too much at stake

After one last turn, the song ends and so does the dance

"We still have a lot to figure out, you and I, I can't believe I'm saying this but…..I quite enjoyed the dance and I certainly look forward to-"

I suddenly feel his soft,warm lips on my cheek, my world stops, the kiss is soft and gentle, empty of vain or ill intent, just a pure kiss that one might share with their lover, the crowd around us gasps in shock and disbelief, but all I can focus on is the shameless yet charming smile on his lips, it's the same smile my eyes have been dying to see for the past eight years, and for the first time in a long time

my heart skips a beat

#sakuverse #zsakuva #zsakuva zaros #zaros #writers on tumblr #zaros x reader #I think this is kind of bad I’m sorry😭

71 notes · View notes

devildom-moss · 6 months

Text

Roses for You (9)

This had all started when you noticed a link between a book on the language of flowers you had borrowed from Satan’s room and the current lessons from your Seductive Speechcraft and Magical Potions classes.

In Seductive Speechcraft, you had just reached a section on the effectiveness of spells using non-verbal communication: enchanting glances, dance, and offerings. Meanwhile, in Magical Potions, the professor had been discussing the significance of using specific quantities when concocting potions; they had spent fifteen minutes just providing examples – including adding petals from two different flowers when using them for a love spell.

You couldn’t resist discussing the use of flower language – utilizing the type, color, and quantity of the flowers – to specify the magical intent of an offering as a form of seductive speechcraft. Asmo and Solomon listened intently. The same idea popped into both of their minds, and before you knew it, everyone was looking into color and number meanings, searching for the perfect combination to convey their feelings for you and try to put you under their spell. The only rule for their little competition to charm you? Only roses are allowed.

Will you be charmed by their attempts?

Nine Roses - Barbatos

Word Count: +1,500 (sorry. I think my bias is showing.)

Eternal love

“Hey, Barbatos, why did you want to see me today?” You stood at the door to the Demon Lord’s castle.

Barbatos chuckled and stepped aside to allow you in. “What would you say if I told you I simply wanted to see you?”

“I’d say, ‘I’m glad you invited me because I missed you, too.’”

You missed the brief widening of his smile. He was delighted by your response, but the thought of someone walking into the foyer and seeing him practically fawning over you caused him to suppress that joy.

“Actually,” Barbatos started with a hint of something between hesitation and musing. “I was finishing up a task that I believe you might enjoy. Would you like to try your hand at making a flower arrangement?”

“I don’t know if I’d be any good at it, but it sounds fun.”

“Excellent. Come with me to the garden.” Barbatos turned, hiding the sudden appearance of a grin, and led the way. Perfect, he thought. It was no coincidence that you “caught him” in the middle of this particular task. He had worked hard to complete his necessary duties ahead of time so that he could spend the entire afternoon with you. This last task had been postponed until you were on your way with the hope that it would spark your interest – with the expectation that his plan would come to fruition. “I have a table set up in the garden where I was previously making arrangements. The flowers around the castle required refreshing. Although, as you can see, I’ve already completed a few.”

There was a vase slightly ahead of you on a table in the hall. You recognized the purple basil and black calla lilies, but there was something else in the arrangement – some alien- or Devildom-looking plant. It was a large dark reddish-brown, almost black, with petals that resembled wings – some pointed, demonic version of an orchid. Even stranger were the long, whisker-like tendrils that jutted out from the center. You’d never seen anything like it. “What type of flower is that?”

“I take it you mean the black bat flower?” Barbatos hummed and stopped in front of the vase.

“Is it native to the Devildom? It’s incredible. I half-expected it to growl at me as we walked by.”

“No, my dear,” Barbatos chuckled. “This plant is from the human world, but it tolerates Devildom conditions quite well; in fact, it flourishes here – much like yourself. I’ve heard about your recent interest in flower meanings, would you happen to have learned about any of these?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s the same for purple basil, but basil is usually a symbol of love, right?”

“It is now, although I’ve read that it once symbolized hatred. It was said to drive men insane. What an interesting turn of events. Both the calla lilies and the bat flower symbolize transformation, strength, and mystery. However, the black calla lily has a rather unique association.” Barbatos paused and turned to face you. His tail wrapped around the back of your thighs and pulled you closer to him. He held your gaze seductively and spoke, slow and heavy: “forbidden love.”

Barbatos had brought you here on purpose – both to see that particular arrangement and because the hall was quiet and not prone to foot traffic. He gave you a gentle smile that smothered the spark of heat you had felt in his eyes.

You found yourself searching for something to say – to cut the charged tension in a still-very-public part of the castle. “It’s a beautiful arrangement, Barbatos.”

Barbatos chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, dear, I lost myself momentarily. Shall we continue to the garden?”

He didn’t wait for a response before he turned and began to walk. You immediately felt his tail drop and encircle one of your calves, pulling you along with him.

The table Barbatos had set up in the garden was filled with a variety of flowers. You could see that he had nearly completed another arrangement before you had arrived. Barbatos added a few more hell roses and a sprig of black grass before he wrapped it carefully. “I’m going to place this in an empty vase. You’re welcome to use whatever you’d like to create your arrangement.”

“Will you display it in the castle when I’m done?”

“I’d like to, yes – if you don’t mind.”

You grinned to yourself as Barbatos walked away. The thought of Barbatos looking at an arrangement you made throughout the week as he went about his duties left you nervous but eager to please. Instinctively, you reached for a blue anemone. Sure, you probably should have considered what would suit the castle and the potential surrounding décor, but all you could think about was Barbatos. You added a few purple hyacinths, and cursed baby blue eyes, rotating the placement of each selection, but you felt that something was missing. The pale blue glow of hell jasmine called to you. Strange; the scent of hell jasmine was said to make a demon extremely needy. Why would Barbatos want to display these in the castle? That seems a bit dangerous. However, on closer inspection, the scent had been hampered significantly compared to other times you had run into this plant.

“Let me guess,” Barbatos spoke up as he returned to the garden. “You’re wondering if that hell jasmine has had an effect on me today?”

“Sort of.”

“Worry not. This variety has been modified. Its scent has no power over me. That honor is all yours today. It’s perfectly safe to use in your arrangement.”

“Oh!” You felt the heat rise in your face. You weren’t sure you believed him with all his sweet-talking. But that didn’t matter. If the hell jasmine was safe to use, it would make for the perfect final touch. You wanted to surprise Barbatos with your creative decisions. “Close your eyes, please.”

“As you wish.” Barbatos made no attempt to get closer and shut his eyes. You finished your arrangement and brought it to Barbatos, holding it out to him like an offering.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.” You watched as a look of pleasant surprise was sketched on Barbatos’s face. The smile on his lips filled you with an unfamiliar pride – so warm and encompassing as if you had performed a miracle. There was no restraint in that smile. “I made it with you in mind.”

“Oh my.” Barbatos brought the knuckle of his index finger to his mouth. “I beg your pardon, but would you indulge my selfishness and put your arrangement in my room? There’s an empty vase on the table near the door.”

“You want to display it in your room?”

“I would feel better knowing something so thoughtfully crafted by you was in my room. I’m afraid I would feel quite jealous allowing someone else to admire it. That is, I want the sole joy of seeing it and thinking of you each day. Is that okay?”

“Are you certain the hell jasmine has had no effect on you?” You looked at him suspiciously as if that would distract from the way he flustered you.

“I’m afraid not. This seems to be a consequence of thinking about you so much today. Now, will you do me a favor and deliver those to my room? I believe you’re adept at finding my room on your own by now,” Barbatos added a seductive tinge to the last sentence. He turned you towards the entrance and gave you a gentle nudge. The warmth of his hand lingered as you headed to his room.

When you returned, Barbatos was carefully wrapping a bouquet of blue roses and darkness thyme – likely both of which were cultivated by Barbatos. It was simple, but the blue roses were stunning, and their rarity was only complemented by an equally rare herb. Barbatos tied a silky blue bow around the bouquet and held it out to you with both hands – an oddly elegant gesture.

“Where would you like me to put these?” you asked.

“No, my dear, these are for you.”

Your eyes widened and you took a closer look at the bouquet. Nine blue roses. Nine was for a timeless, eternal love. Blue roses signified mystery and uniqueness, but they could also mean something unattainable or impossible. You frowned. “Eternal love is impossible?”

Sure, maybe Barbatos wouldn’t love you forever, but that message seemed a bit cruel.

“Not quite.” Barbatos laughed at you softly. Had his laugh not been so sweet, you might have been upset. “Blue may represent the impossible, but here it is – a dream come true. If I can be so bold, you are a dream come true – the only one I could adore like this for all of time.”

The frown fell from your face, and you were left with shock and shyness. Something must have gotten into him today. In truth, the thought of the others giving you roses only encouraged Barbatos to charm you as much as he could, and that meant he would need to bare his heart to you. Barbatos pulled you in close and kissed you with a sweetness that matched his words.

“For a demon such as myself, eternal love is a rather serious proposal; will you still accept it?” His thumb ran across your lower lip.

“That would be a dream come true.” It was your turn to kiss and fluster him now. Hopefully none of the little D.s would go into the garden that afternoon.

#this was not supposed to be this long. I just got too into it. I'll try to go back to shorter posts next time.#I took my idea and ran with it so here it is #barbatos #gn!mc #obey me series #obey me #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #please let this one get some much craved (by me) attention #also did I give Barbatos soft dom energy or what?

142 notes · View notes

lvgrrqs · 8 months

Text

LIGHT STING — E. WILLIAMS.

summary. ellie williams with an s/o who’s getting a tattoo for the first time!

no warnings besides some slight cursing and maybe incorrect performance on giving a tattoo.

note. i’ve gotten to see two concerts back to back and i’m so happy about that :) just in a good mood because of it so i’m trying to write better things besides that mini series i pulled from my ass.

word count. 815

ellie williams. who holds your hand as you enter the quaint tattoo shop together. she’s sure to be by your side even when you were first planning on getting your own tattoo.

“how did it feel when you got yours?” you asked as she held the door open for you with her free hand, allowing you inside first. “eh, just a light sting.” she hummed in response. but she knew that everyone’s pain tolerance was different, and knowing you, you wouldn’t just feel a ‘light sting’ as she had. “i’ll be there to watch you and possibly hold your hand if you need it. worst case, you’ll get a stress ball or pass o-“ she stopped her words at your face, nervously laughing off how fast your head had spun to look at her. “pass what now!?”

ellie williams. who borderline had to bribe you back into your own idea of getting a tattoo with your favorite lollipop and a frown on her face.

yeah, it probably wasn’t the best thing that she let that part slip, but she was able to successfully get you from walking outside of that tattoo shop. “i’m sorry sweet thing, that’s on me. but you got this, i know you do.” she attempted to cheer your spirit, which she did with no effort as a smile lifted upon your lips. “thanks els, but do you think i could actually get that stress ball?”

ellie williams. who sat nearby as the tattoo artist kindly complimented the stress ball you currently had in your hands, thankful that they were so kind and understanding about your first experience with something like this.

“now, you ready?” the artist sat down next to you, materials on a table next to her as your stencil had already been placed down onto your arm. “yeah, i really like the placement.” ellie’s eyes followed your gaze down to where your forearm was, a small collection of butterfly’s in a morphed, twisted design sat inches above your wrist. the design was a mock of her tattoos, which you admired heavily. “it’s a nice design, matches your girlfriends.”

ellie williams. who’s asked to sit out because of how watchful she’s being over you.

oh where did it go wrong.

“i understand you’re looking out for them, but you can’t stand there and tell me how to do my job.” you looked back and forth between ellie and the tattoo artist, both facing off as you sat back in the chair, stressball still in hand. “well you’re obviously hurting them! you don’t see how they’re jumping?” “els, im fine. it’s a tattoo, i’ll be okay.” “i’ve been around tattoos for a long time, okay? i know how people act and why.”

“if you knew as much as you claimed, you would be giving the tattoo.” the artist sighed, looking at you. “i’m going to have to ask her to leave, but i doubt she’s going to listen to me.” with an understanding look, you got up as ellie started rambling on about ‘how can you talk to them like i’m not standing right here??’

briefly, you led ellie back to the front of the building and sat her down. mumbling, she looked up at you and then at the unfinished tattoo. “you sure you’re okay? it’s your first tattoo, i know i freaked you out earlier-“ “i’m fine, it’s like you said. feels like a light sting, i’ll probably feel it later though.” with a relieved sigh, she finally sat back without a problem and let you go back to the back to finish the task at hand.

ellie williams. who finally sees your finished tattoo a while later.

she’s absolutely grinning like an idiot when she sees your smile and the pep in your step and you approach her. your arm is extended out to show the tattoo off to her, and anyone else who happens to pass out. “look! oh my god, it’s perfect.” you swoon out, meeting ellie’s gaze. “it is perfect, i really like seeing you excited like this.” “we should go get more sometime soon.” you practically demanded

“let’s let that one heal first, and then we’ll see.” she promised.

ellie williams. who totally takes pictures just to post them and show it off to her friends.

your phone went off as soon as you got back home and said goodbye to els so she could head home herself. it was a new post she had tagged you in, which you found weird because you just closed the door.

captioned, “u wish u were this kind of cool.”

followed by her story including a picture of her flipping off the tattoo artist working on your arm from around the corner, both you and the artist unaware. she even had the audacity to tag the tattoo shop - you probably wouldn’t be welcomed back anytime soon.

240 notes · View notes

ghcstao3 · 1 year

Text

Ghost doesn’t fear much. At least, not anymore. And it isn’t just a cause of a reputation needed to be upheld—he’s learned to live with fear, was forced to adapt with it, and now holds it against the enemy as one of his greatest strengths.

But the one thing he still cannot stand? Snakes. Fucking snakes.

It seems stupid. Feels stupid. Given everything Ghost has gone through and still goes through, it’s likely no one could ever guess that snakes are the one thing that set him off. That they are the one thing capable of incapacitating the Ghost.

But they are. And though they aren’t usually much of an issue in the military, it’s still one of his best-guarded secrets. Because addressing it means addressing where the petrifying fear came from, and Ghost isn’t certain he’d ever be able to do that.

When Soap speaks of a pet at home, about how she’s cuddly and loving and sweet, Ghost expects a cat. Not a dog, never a dog because that’s what Soap fears. A cat. A normal, conventional pet.

To Ghost’s chagrin, however, it is not a cat. Soap’s sweet girl is a snake, and while relatively small, a snake nonetheless. The moment Ghost sees her, he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, even as Soap continues to navigate his own flat to begin unpacking what little he’d brought on leave.

Soap finally notices the more tense silence from Ghost, though, and rushes over to see what’s wrong. Concern is written into his features as he loops his arms around Ghost’s neck, prodding gently to get an answer, but never pushing.

And normally, it would help. Normally the closeness is welcomed, embraced, but the arms around Ghost’s neck only serve to make him feel constricted, suffocated, as he’s brought back to those moments of torment he’d suffered throughout childhood. He can’t breathe.

Soap seems to understand in part what the issue is, and quickly drops his arms away, instead taking Ghost’s hands to maintain that contact that is usually so naturally grounding.

“Simon,” Soap coaxes. “Mind telling me what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

Ghost can’t bring himself to respond. He’s still watching with great intensity as the snake writhes around in its tank, curling around one of the decorative branches within its containment. Ghost’s silence prompts Soap to follow his eye-line, and from there it’s a rapid realization of what’s got Ghost so immovable.

Soap slips away, hasty to find a cover for the tank and drape it over, hiding the snake from view. He returns to Ghost, still glued in place, though he’s far more willing to listen to Soap’s instruction to find his eyes instead.

“I’m sorry,” Soap is apologizing, “I should’ve told you.”

Ghost musters the strength to shake his head. His eyes flit back to the covered tank, but his gaze returns to Soap’s the moment there’s a tug on his sleeve.

“Isn’t your fault,” Ghost says. “I never…”

“Why don’t we go out?” Soap suggests. He always seems to know how to perfectly divert attention from what’s currently so bothersome. “Just for a bit. Then we’ll come back and try again.”

Ghost happily agrees. Anything to get away for a while, to recompose himself and prepare mentally for the leave he’s about to spend in a space with one of the things he dreads most.

The tank stays covered for the rest of that night, and the day following. But Ghost remains tense throughout, and Soap decides they ought to do something about it.

Gradually, Soap leaves the tank uncovered for longer. He’ll pull the sheet over the second Ghost starts panicking, at first, but eventually Ghost builds enough tolerance with a lot of reassurance from Soap, and the sheet gets neatly tucked away. It’s left unused for the last few days of that leave.

Over the next couple with a lot of time between, they try more exposure. Soap takes his snake out of her tank to show she’s just about harmless. He keeps distance from Ghost, of course, but is happy to satiate any curiosity the lieutenant has with in-depth answers, and doesn’t say anything as Ghost creeps closer every day, until he’s within reach. Until he’s gingerly guiding his index finger over smooth scales. Until Soap is placing the snake into Ghost’s own hands.

She hardly weighs anything. And, really, she would only ever be more scared of Ghost, than he could ever be of her.

Soap’s snake doesn’t relieve Ghost’s fear entirely, no. She likely never could on her own, even as Ghost grows more comfortable around her. But she still helps, and seeing the smile it puts on Soap’s face to see her and Ghost getting along makes it more than worth the effort to try and work on the fear.

Facing it isn’t as terrifying as Ghost thought it would be. He still has a way to go, but he’s also still progressing. And maybe one day, in some not-so far-off future, the Ghost wouldn’t fear anything at all.

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #drabble #writing

347 notes · View notes

kkyeomies · 2 months

Note

Im so excited to hear that you’re going to be writing again! I love seventeen, and idk if requests are open but I’d love to ask for a tiny seungkwan Drabble. maybe first time with seungkwan? where it’s cute at first but gets really steamy 😭 sorry if this is a weird request, feel free to ignore it ^^

hi anon, thank you for being my first request!!!!! i know you said drabble, but i... got very carried away. i hope i interpreted it the way u wanted :) my writing is still a bit rusty, so i also hope this is a tolerable read 🙏🏽

First Time

pairing - bf!seungkwan x reader

content- fluff, smut, new relationship, first time, reader is a virgin

warnings: none

word count- 2.1k

He was stumped. He had tried what seemed like every trick in the book, but he still couldn’t figure out why you didn’t want to have sex with him. You’d been dating for almost four months, and Seungkwan couldn’t help but feel like he was doing something wrong. He had never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to, of course, but by now, he simply couldn’t figure out why you shied away when he tried to go further. Despite this, you were still very affectionate toward him and expressed only love. Tonight, however, Seungkwan decided he would put an end to his agony, whichever way it would end.

”Baby, can I ask you something?”

You look down at his face from where he lays on your lap, both of you currently in his bed relaxing and listening to music. His soft black locks weaved through your fingers as you brushed them back in a soothing motion. You always thought he looked the most beautiful like this, face free of worries or cares, just enjoying the time between the two of you.

As you held eye contact with him, you could see a hint of hesitation in his deep brown eyes. Offering him a warm smile, you reply.

”Have I ever said no to that question?”

Seungkwan moved up from your lap to sit, leaning on the headboard next to you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it slightly.

”Am I doing something wrong? Like, to make you uncomfortable? Or is it something I said? I promise I can fix it- just let me know, and I’ll d-“

”Whoa, sweetie, where is this coming from?”

You sit up a little straighter, trying to understand where this is heading. You could feel him playing with your fingernails, something he often did when he was anxious about something.

He hesitates again before saying, “It’s just that, well, we’ve been together for a while now, and every time I try to… go further… you don’t seem to like it, so I don’t know if … ” His voice fizzles out to a whisper at the end of his insinuation, anticipating the worst possible answer from you. Instead, he was surprised to see your face heat up in embarrassment as the weight of his words sunk in.

In just a moment, your positions switched. His dependant grip on your hand turns reassuring, and he scoots a little closer to drape his other arm over your shoulder to draw you into him.

”Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. Forget I even mentioned it.” He copies your warm smile from earlier as he lifts your chin to meet his eyes. As much as he wanted an answer to his troubles, it wasn’t worth any pain on your part.

You look down at your intertwined fingers before speaking, “It’s just- I’ve never had sex before.”

Frankly, he was shocked. He had never even considered that an option. He knew you had dated before and just assumed you had experience (in his eyes, you were too attractive to be a virgin still), but now he felt like an idiot.

”I’m so sorry, baby, I just thought- I shouldn’t have assumed. We can wait until whenever you want to.” He pressed a small kiss to your head as he pulled you closer into his arms.

“Well, it’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Messing up, I guess. What if you don’t like it, or I can’t make you feel good?”

He sat up to face you better before saying, “I don’t think you’ve ever made me not feel good.”

You scoffed lightheartedly, amused by his flattery, but he looked dead serious.

“I’m not kidding. I promise you nothing you could do would ever make me feel bad, and you know I’d take good care of you, too. Plus, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It's a ‘first time’ for a reason, silly.” His reassuring tone put you at ease. You had no doubt he would take care of you; he’s proved that to be true every day you’ve been together.

You had been replaying that conversation since it occurred over two weeks ago. The more you thought Seungkwan’s words, the more your fear dissipated, leaving an unfamiliar sense of excitement in your belly.

You and Seungkwan were settled on the couch for your first movie night in a while. It was his first day off of schedules, and he wanted to spend it cuddled up with you.

“What’s wrong, honey? Did I choose the wrong flavor of ice cream?”

“I’m ready.”

“Huh?”

You took a deep breath before declaring, “I want you to take good care of me, Kwannie.”

His confused face shifted as it clicked in his head, and in less than a minute, he had swept you away to the bedroom. In one fluid move, he laid you down on the bed and settled himself in between your hips. He was wasting no time as he pulled his hoodie off, littering kisses down your neck and chest. As he pulled back for a breath, you could catch a good look at his face, shining with a newfound energy.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this moment, baby? All I want to do is make you feel good. Will you let me do that, hmm?”

You could only offer him a whimper, both taken aback and extremely turned on by this new side of him you were seeing. He dove back in to capture your lips while stripping the both of you down. Soon, you were situated between the soft sheets underneath you and the cage of Seungkwan’s arms. The temperature was becoming borderline unbearable as your skin heated up with passion and anticipation.

He shifted down your body slowly, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over your stomach and thighs. His hands roamed over your breasts gently, causing your nipples to perk up and a cool shiver to wash over you. When he reached the foot of the bed, he dropped to his knees on the floor and moved your legs onto his shoulders, spreading you open in all your glory. Seungkwan couldn't hold back his low groan after seeing you already wet and ready for him to dive in. You gasped as his tongue finally met your folds; he was really wasting no time. To be honest, you had never expected him to be this forward. He always treated you like you were something precious, so gentle, so caring, but now he was so… rough. But you would be lying if you said you didn't like it.

You were brought back down to earth when Seungkwan moved up to your clit and slid two fingers into your entrance. With a gasp, you propped yourself on your elbows to look at his face. You could see his eyes were clouded with lust as he looked up at you, maintaining a hurried pace with his mouth. It was too much all at once; you dropped back down with a loud moan, causing him to rut against the side of the bed. He had never been this hard in his entire life, but he was determined to get you to finish first before he even thought of touching himself. He always knew you would taste good but never expected it to be this amazing.

“Fuck, I’m so close, baby, don’t stop!” You could barely get the words out before he slipped in a third finger, hitting that sweet spot right on the nose. Your face was scrunched up in pleasure; you had never felt this good.

“Come for me, baby, wanna feel you cum around me.”

With a few more thrusts of his fingers, you felt your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, washing over you from head to toe. You swore your vision blacked out for a second from the intensity.

By the time you came to your senses, Seungkwan had moved back up your body and was softly sucking hickeys into your neck and jaw.

“You did so good for me, honey, so good.”

Still trying to catch your breath, you held the back of his head to pull him into a searing kiss. Your manicured nails grazing his scalp almost knocked him out; he let out a small huff as he pressed his forehead to yours, brown eyes meeting yours.

“I love you so much, you know that? My sweet angel, so beautiful,” he murmurs, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as he reaches over to his nightstand to pull out a condom. You finally got a good glimpse of his hard cock as he rolled the rubber on; you had seen his dick before, but never this hard. The tip was an irritated shade of red, clear that he had been struggling for too long.

“Wait.”

Seungkwan paused what he was doing to look up at you, bewildered. You grabbed his arm to lead him to sit against the headboard and straddled his thighs. He looked up at you, slightly amused, and you said, “It’s my turn to take care of you.”

He honestly thought he could’ve died then and there. The way your hair fell around your shoulders, framing your flushed face, and the borderline painful grip you had on his biceps nearly crushed him. He had never seen you like this, and it drove him crazy.

“I love you so much Kwannie, so much.”

You gave him no chance to respond as you sank down on him. Both of you let out loud groans, the tight fit sending pleasure throughout your bodies. You were grateful to gravity for helping you out, the sensation too overwhelming to focus on pushing it in voluntarily.

“You’re so tight, oh my God. Don’t move, please,” he sobbed. His hands flew to grip your hips with a grasp so tight you thought he would draw blood. You were left with nowhere to escape as the tip of his cock pressed against the deepest part of you, showing no mercy as he took the time to compose himself. He almost came when the entrance of your pussy squeezed his tip and couldn’t even think of continuing if you started moving right away.

“You’re so big- fuck, baby. Can’t believe you even fit.”

Seungkwan groaned partly in pleasure and in panic as he desperately attempted to delay his orgasm. There was no way he would cum without seeing your face when you reached your high again.

After a few moments, you both were steady enough to return to reality, and you slowly started rutting against him. With each swivel of your hips, your moans got louder, and in no time you were bouncing up and down on his dick. Seungkwan’s grip only got tighter (if that was even possible) when he could feel himself hit that gummy spot inside you. He moved one of his hands up to your hair to pull your head back and expose your neck, where he returned to his previous marks that were already bruising beautifully. With an almost wicked smirk, he leaned into your body, nipping at your already sensitive skin. You jolted to a halt as the feeling shot down to your clit. It had been just a few minutes since your first orgasm, but you could already feel your second one fighting its way to the surface.

“Can’t believe I’m the first one to see you like this, fuck! You look so sexy, baby, all fucked out for me. My pretty baby, you’re mine, right? You’re all for me? Only me.”

Before you could respond, he had flipped you both over. You were back in the position you started in, and Seungkwan took the extra step to move your calves onto his shoulders. This was the deepest he had hit all night, fully bottoming out into you. Neither of you was going to last any longer.

“Only you- Fuck- I’m coming again!”

His pace was unrelenting as he got you to your second high of the night. You clenched around him for the last time, finally coaxing his orgasm. He fully came within a few more sturdy pumps before slowing to a stop, panting like crazy.

You took a little longer to recuperate, at which time Seungkwan had disposed of the condom and prepped a warm towel to clean you up.

“So beautiful, my love. You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you,” he kissed your temple firmly. This was better than any ending he could’ve imagined.

i hope u enjoyed :) feel free to let me know if anything is wrong or if my writing can be improved, i haven't written anything in like two years 😭 send any requests u have, I'll slowly get to them!

#kkyeomies #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungkwan smut #seungkwan fanfic #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #kkyeomies fic #kkyeomies answered #kkyeomies smut

72 notes · View notes

kindasleepywriter · 3 months

Text

Bird of Prey - Chapter 12: Flight Risk

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: You finally face Rhysand, prepared to defend your place in the Night court. You never expected it would end this way, though.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Some good ol' trauma, as always, but that's about it!

Word count: 2.8k

Prev | Next

“Well, if this is your idea of necessary training, Az, you had better watch out before I try finding new powers of my own.”

Rhysand’s voice echoed in the modest living room, the amusement lacing each word sobering you up faster than a bucket of ice water ever could. You looked over your shoulder and hissed harshly at the man standing in the doorway, the length of your wings snapping back to their usual folded position in response to the intrusion.

Your centuries-old reflexes had you about ready to launch yourself at Rhysand, but Azriel’s hands landed on your hips and kept you from leaping backwards. You struggled against his hold for only a second before ceasing your efforts, regaining control over your instincts. You remained tense as a coiled spring, distrusting the High Lord.

“Not the best moment, Rhys.” Azriel sighed, dropping his head back lightly on the backrest’s cushioning.

“By all means,” Rhysand purred, “don’t let me stop you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, darkness by his feet almost unnoticeably flickering as your intertwined shadows made their way back into the room. You lost track of them quickly as they blended into Azriel’s, but you felt their presence around you as they distantly told you there was a box of spare linens in the attic.

You fought the urge to slap them away, frustration slipping into your very bones. They had apparently been too busy to count blankets to notice an entire person coming into the very small house. Spatial awareness was visibly not their forte.

“What,” you sneered, ignoring the pressure Azriel added to your hips in warning, “So bored of your own sex life that you have to live vicariously through other people’s?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, unimpressed by your taunt. “All that training did not include manners, it would seem. Noted.”

“How about you shove your manners up your-”

Azriel cut you off before you could further insult the High Lord, his shadows pushing Rhysand encouragingly towards the kitchen. “Alright, let’s not do that. Rhys will you just- just give us a minute, alright?”

Rhysand sent another smirk your way, winking. “I’ll let you lovebirds finish what you were doing.”

You snarled as he turned around, still immobilized by muscled arms. “He better sleep with one eye open,” you hissed once he left the room. Azriel reluctantly let go of you and you sprung to your feet, using every last bit of your restraint not to follow into the kitchen. You fiddled with a fallen feather, and your shadows trailed the man, assuring you they’d report back on any suspicious activity. If they even kept their attention on him long enough, you thought.

Azriel shook his head as he put his shirt back on. “Can we reschedule the regicide for another day,” he sighed. “He just wants to talk.”

“About what.”

“About you not being a threat to the Night Court. My impression is that you’re not currently helping your case, I’m sure you know why.”

“I don’t need that asshole’s permission-”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, and he took a slow step towards you. “Watch it.” he snapped.“You’ve made your opinion about him abundantly clear, but I won’t tolerate insults. You do, in fact, need his permission to be here, so I encourage you to take it down a notch and go talk to him.”

You gritted your teeth, pacing throughout the room. You’d tried all week to get a clearer idea of who Rhysand actually was, and you’d gotten nothing more than ‘You can ask him.’ in return. If anything, the evasiveness around the man’s character had only made you more distrustful of him.

Your twin shadows slithered back to you, reporting nothing other than the fact that Rhysand was clearly listening in. That, you’d expected.

“Fine. But if he tries anything-”

“He won’t.” Azriel assured you swiftly, almost pleading. “Nothing more than a conversation, I promise you.”

You barely kept yourself from flinching at his last words. ‘Promises’, you’d heard that too many times. Nevertheless, you finally nodded, and the relief on his face was clear as day. You knew this would happen sooner or later. He softly laid his hand on your lower back, careful to avoid sensitive areas, and ushered you towards the kitchen.

Rhysand sat comfortably with a bottle of red wine at the dining room table, his wings almost brushing the floor. The open layout of the kitchen gave you enough space that you weren’t anywhere near close to him, and you hesitated to come closer. Azriel tried to lead you to the delicately carved oak table to sit down as well, but you remained standing. He gave in to your silent compromise and leaned against the kitchen isle at your side. Your shadows kept to themselves, hiding in your feathers.

All three of you stood in silence for a moment, too tense for the situation to be considered awkward. This was a battle, you knew, and you would not lose. You kept your eyes firmly on Rhysand, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. Your mental walls were stacked as high as they could go, ready for assault.

Rhysand’s silken voice was the one to cut through the silence that hung over the room, gesturing towards you.

“So few words from someone who’d been planning my assassination only a second ago. Still thinking up new ways to accomplish the feat?”

“Depends.” you said, infusing boredom into your every word. “Are you here to taunt and provoke me, or can we talk like adults and get it over with?”

He tsked and shook his head in disappointment. “So preoccupied with efficiency. No word of thanks for the man who has so kindly let you into his court?”

“I never asked for anything. If you want me to leave, you just have to say the word.” you said flatly.

Azriel’s hold on the kitchen counter tightened and you took a step, your arm brushing his. In the periphery of your vision, you saw his hands loosen, shifting closer to you. Barely noticeable, but just enough for Rhysand to raise an eyebrow, and you hated how vulnerable such a simple act made you feel.

“Ah,” he said, looking towards Azriel, a glimmer in his eyes before turning back to you. “I see. Well, you haven’t caused any trouble yet, but you must understand why I’m curious about what this ‘training’ consists of. Care to clue me in?”

Azriel looked towards you, a nod toward Rhysand indicating not so subtly that you’d be doing the talking. You took a calming breath.

“We have been working on… powers I can apparently wield.” you said, carefully choosing each word. “More specifically, on finding a way for me to use them consciously rather than instinctively.”

“Go on.” Rhysand encouraged, firm but without any anger or surprise.

“We have confirmed that I can use someone else’s powers as my own, that’s what happened with Feyre in the study.”

His gaze wavered, brows furrowing. “And how are you sure that they’re not yours?”

You didn’t reply, instead willing your lighter shadow to slip out from your plumage and explore the room. It joined with Azriel’s own companions, briefly brushing against his dark curls before making its way towards the dining table. It flowed over the wooden surface, a small cloud of white smoke dancing just out of Rhysand’s reach. He leaned forward, inspecting it, but the shadow flickered and skittered back to you, taking refuge in your feathers once more.

“I’m not a Shadowsinger. Well, I wasn’t one before arriving in Velaris, at least.” Before you met Azriel, you noted to yourself. “We’re still not sure how it all works. Nesta explained that she didn’t feel any power missing, and Az…” You threw a glance at him in confirmation.

“I didn’t, don’t, feel anything amiss. With Nesta, it had stopped the second you’d realized what you were doing, but her shadows haven’t dissipated. I don’t understand how, but she does have the ability, Rhys.”

Rhysand looked… he looked concerned at the implications.

“They’re like familiars.” he mumbled.

“What?” you asked, his voice so low you couldn’t make out the words.

“They’re like familiars.” he said again, louder. “When you conjure them, you use a burst of energy in a short period of time that lingers over time. They don’t fade away because in normal circumstances they don’t need a constant flow of power.”

“That could explain it.” Azriel said, nodding, “We haven’t tested the limits of it so far. Training has been…” he hesitated, and you froze. It was true that there were many words one could use to describe how you’d progressed, ‘not at all’ and ‘a waste of time’ at the front of your mind.

“Progress as been next to non-existent.” you cut in. Azriel frowned at your side and went to speak again, most probably to tell you that your shadows were a good sign of progress, but you didn’t give him the chance to coddle you. “At this rate, I might be able to start a forest fire in a couple centuries. I’m more of a danger to myself than to any of you.”

Both of their eyes snapped to yours, and you winced at Azriel’s concern. Ah, why were you never able to keep yourself from oversharing?

“What do you mean, Dove?” he asked carefully.

“Look,” you said, avoiding his stare, “We’ve established that these powers are not mine, and that they don’t come from your reserves either. I’m apparently making up these abilities out of thin air. So, where’s the catch, who or what’s paying for it? There has to be a give and take, there always is. I might not have noticed anything yet, but something or someone is paying the price for what I’m doing.”

In truth, the thought had lingered in the back of your mind since the moment Nesta had revealed her power was intact after your scuffle. You were bargaining with powers you did not understand, racking up a debt of uncertain value, and you didn’t see a scenario in which it would end well.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Azriel breathed, his hand gently guiding your head back to him. You were still very aware of Rhysand’s presence in the room and his analysis of you both, and you pushed away to walk to the other side of the kitchen counter. You still refused to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter. I… have to train, don’t I? That’s how I can stay here.” With you, you didn’t add, trying and failing to sound as detached as you were earlier. “I understand the conditions of my presence here, and what will happen if I’m considered a possible threat.”

Azriel ran a frustrated hand through his hair and a low growl escaped him, his shadows rippling around him with a renewed fervor like winds in a storm. Your own were pleading to join them, but you held firm against their song.

“Dove, you-”

Rhysand’s voice resounded gravely across the room, stopping him in his tracks. “I think we need to clarify some things.” he said, looking unpleased at Azriel.

There it was, you thought, you’d given yourself away. What High Lord would let you in their court when you were possibly putting citizens in danger? You were nothing but a volatile threat to a leader. You reinforced your mental shields, forcing yourself not to flinch when you felt the unfortunate familiar talons grate at your mind, and furtively looked around the room. Your inability to keep your mouth shut was once again going to cost you your freedom.

Not this time.

Two doors, 3 windows. The windows were out of the question, you could never fit your wings through them despite their size, and one of the doors was blocked by Azriel’s large frame and his own fully flared wings. A common sign of anger, you knew that. That left the other door, the easiest to reach. Only a few feet to your right, right where the dining room seemed to start. Past that, no obstacles other than the front door. You evaluated the distance of the two men in relation to yourself.

You could make it, but you’d have to fly to get away, if you even could. You’d used the privacy of your guest room to stretch and move them, but you weren’t sure you could hoist yourself up in the air. There was a small ridge overlooking the Sidra next to this house… maybe it would be enough to bring you airborne. You’d just have to climb the stairs to the lookout.

You’d have no choice but to try. You tensed, ready to spring into action.

Rhysand’s voice resonated through the room again with an edge it had previously lacked. “Did you think you were on trial?”

Azriel took a step towards you, and you took one in turn towards the door. Your chest squeezed at the hurt that flashed across his face. You wished you could go to him, you wanted to go to him, but he was still a subject of the Night court. Rhysand called the shots. Had all of this been a set up?

“Aren’t I?” you asked carefully, keeping both men within your sights as you angled yourself subtly towards your planned exit.

“No, of course not!” Azriel protested sharply, taking another step. You did the same. He looked agitated, too agitated.

“You are not a prisoner here,” Rhysand stated, “and it seems that our good clueless friend here seems to not have made it clear enough.”

You stilled under their eyes, evaluating the situation. You wouldn’t be able to detect deception from Rhysand, not if he’d been fooling the entirety of Prythian for centuries. Instead, you looked towards Azriel.

You almost stepped forward at the devastation you found in him and his surrounding shadows, the latter reacting to the desperate song yours sent their way. Maker, it was all you could hear, the deafening silence broken only by their longing. Azriel took another step, raising a hand towards you gently.

“Az, don’t-” Rhysand warned, but it did not reach his brother’s ears.

“Dove, please, we only want to help you.”

Help you? Voices rang around you. Your scars were flayed back to life, flames licking at your back and wings.

‘Quit whining child, this is all for your own good.’

‘You can end the pain if you earn it.’

‘We’ll stop if you stop hiding your powers, dear.’

‘We’re only trying to help you; you’ll be grateful when you’re older.’

‘We’re only trying to help-’

No, no, no, no, no, not again-

Your head yelled at you to run, run, run. Darkness, your mind wished for, darkness. Rhysand’s darkness, you realized. You couldn’t tell who started it, him or you, but an absolute void of light was created, snuffing out the sunlight streaming through the windows as easily as you would a candle. You heard Azriel shouting your name in the pitch black of the room, but you were already running. His voice followed you into the sun.

It was only when you reached the rocky ledge that you dared to look back. Azriel was right outside the house, violently trying to shake off the grip Rhysand had on him, holding him back. You couldn’t make out what he was saying to the shaking man in his arms through the ringing in your ears.

Azriel shouted for you one last time, eyes wide, when you used your momentum to propel you off the rocks of the lookout in a dive down towards the Sidra’s rushing water. It enveloped you in its noise and offered you a brief respite from your mind.

At the last moment possible, praying to the Mother to give you a helping hand this one time, you snapped your wings open to catch an air current. You thrust desperately against gravity, every muscle in agony, and your confidence wavered as you approached the water rapidly. If you hit the surface at this speed, you thought, at least it would be a swift death.

You doubled your efforts with a roar, using every second of your training to save you from the icy wall, still going down, down down until- you finally caught a strong draft. The tips of your feathers barely brushed the water, a moment stopped in time as you witnessed the reflection of your spread wings at your sides, black and white shining in the sun’s light, before you were shooting back into the sky.

You didn’t dare look back as you shot through the sky, heading for anywhere that wasn’t here.

Okay first off- this is not edited, I got REALLY tired of waiting to find the time and I wanted to give you guys something! I'll probably go over it in the next few days.

We've got some angst today (I'm a whore for trust/betrayal storylines, can you tell?) and FINALLY a reveal of her ability to fly!! Rhysand tried to do damage control, at least x)

If I break up the next chapters like planned, the next one will be the first of the final story arc (the last one planned, anyways) and lemme tell y'all its WILD

Please tell me your thoughts, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa @minnieoo @weasleyreidstyles @anuttellaa

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers #bird of prey

74 notes · View notes