#and hate on air for RUINING my pattern

[luciaramosc]

⁎⁺˳✧༚ dancing with our hands tied

pairing: luke castellan x afab! reader

warnings: mdni, smut, oral (f!rec), kissing, making out, nudity, swearing

word count: 2.5k words

an: i have no excuse for this, i’m in my #thothours rn. also episode 7 of pjo absolutely ruined me in the best way possible

You should have known from the first exchange of hot kisses and hushed whispers that this was a dangerous game to play. Dancing on a tightrope with Luke Castellan was bound to bring more ruin than good, but you couldn’t give a damn; Not when his lips trailed along your neck and perked themselves on the tender flesh. Not when his hands held you dearly like a prayer. And especially not when he’s whimpering oh so sweet for you.

⁎⁺˳✧༚

Under the cascaded moon light, Luke’s fingers wrapped gently around your wrist, leading the two of you through the camp and toward your cabin. As he twisted the door knob open with his other hand, he uttered a mental “thank you” to your half-siblings for busying themselves at the camp bonfire tonight. Pushing the door opening, a smirk etched itself on his face when he saw your bed, all made up and ready to be messed up. “You shouldn’t have bothered, princess,” Luke muttered softly. “We’re just going to end up ruining it,” he said, peering down into your eyes.

A blaze filed your cheeks at his words, and you couldn’t deny the tension filling in your chest. “It’s not the first thing you’ve ruined,” the smirk evident in your voice as your warm eyes met his. A quiet chuckle hummed from his lips at your joke, a bemused smile gracing his face as he shook his head. He loosened his grip around your wrist before moving to shut the door behind you. The satisfying click of the lock echoed in the otherwise empty cabin, and it granted him all the courage he needed for the moment.

He moved away from the door, turning his head towards you and within an instant, your arms were thrown behind his head. Your lips crashed with his in a dizzying frenzy, savoring the taste of your lover. His hand sought their place on your waist, his thumbs brushing against the plush of your tummy. Your fingers carded themselves through his bouncy locks before trailing down to rest behind his neck. He pulled apart first before trailing gentle kisses down the expanse of your neck and collarbones, adjusting his hands to rest his palms on your hips.

“Missed me, princess?” he teased you, welcoming the feeling of your fingers tugging his strands. “Something like that,” you sighed out. The feeling of his lips and teeth teetering at your skin made your legs weak, but Luke’s warm grip wouldn’t even let you think of crumbling. His hands found their way to rest delicately on the supple curve of your ass, his mouth trailing underneath your orange cabin shirt to kiss a purple bruise on your skin.

The desperation pooling in your chest brought your hands down to grip his biceps, your whispered pants and whines were swallowed by his mouth. Luke made his way back up to connect his lips with yours, hungry to feel you consume all his senses. “Fuck, baby,” he grunted out, “Hated being away from you all day.” His lips bruised themselves trying to memorize the pattern of your rhythm. “Missed you so bad. Thought about sneaking you off for lunch. Maybe some dessert too.” He whispered between kisses, and his words made the delicate skin between your legs drool. He held your frame close to his as the two of you whisked your way to your bed, eyes fluttering open as you pulled away from his kiss.

His love struck gaze found your own as he laid you down on the bed, his body leaning above her own. “Is this okay, baby?” he whispered, gentle hands toying with the hem of your shirt. Your fingers pulled his chin down to bring your lips together for a brief peck. “Always, my love.” A soft smile illuminated his face as he began lifting the fabric over your skin. The cool air nipped at your flesh, but you couldn’t pay any mind as the warmth radiating off Luke’s frame harbored in your core.

You aided in removing your cover, lifting your arms above your head to pull your shirt off. Luke’s attention was brought to your chest, taking in the precious details of his girl. He took in the delicate bow resting in the middle of your bra, almost like a bow on top of a present made just for him. He took in the freckles decorating your breasts and how each cluster looked like a constellation, sun kisses painting your delicate skin. And he took in the faded memories of previous nights in your bed, a smug grin taking his features as he sees reminders of him on you.

“My eyes are up here, Castellan,” you joked, crossing your arms in a mock offense. Luke’s cheeks warmed up as he realized he got caught staring, blinking and shaking his head suddenly. “Sorry, baby, just couldn’t help myself,” he uttered an apology. “Not when my girl looks this good.” His words sent you quietly giggling, his breath tickling the expanse of your neck as he whispers in your ear. “Oh, aren’t you romantic?” you laughed out, the sarcasm heavy in your tone. His lips engaged with the skin on your chest with a smirk, leaving precious kisses and love bites for you to try to hide tomorrow morning. Your fingers run up his back, leaving scratches in their wake as they make their way to tangle in his curls.

Luke’s lips attached themselves to a tender spot on your neck, painting a beautiful mark that caused your back to arch into his touch. He grazed his thumb gently across the padded curves of your breasts, hands tracing from your rib cage to your back to unclip your bra. He threw the garment to sit next to your shirt, the pile by your desk growing by the minute. He palmed your breasts in his warm hands, and the friction rubbed your nipples so deliciously, making them perk up more in his touch.

His body travels down the expanse of your body, memorizing every inch of your body with his mouth. Luke settles his knees on the floor, his hands now squeezing the plush of your hips over your shorts. His thumbs fiddled with the loops of the denim before catching your eye and offering a sweet smile. “You’re so pretty like this, sweet girl,” he praised, running his hand up and down your thigh. She whined out at his touch, squeezing her thighs with a stroke of his hand. He moved to trail kisses down her tummy, making a sweet moan tumble out her lips as he got closer to where she needed him. “Luke, please touch me,” she moaned out.

She bucked her hips as she began to get impatient, her pussy soaked at Luke’s teasing. “Fuck, baby” she whispered out, desperation seeping through her tone. She knew what game Luke was playing at; the way he grazed his lips above her clothed core, ghosting his fingertips over the sensitive skin. As his lips continued to adorn her thighs with hickeys, she sat up on her elbows, bringing herself face to face with Luke. “Enough teasing, Castellan,” she huffed out. “Touch me or I’ll make myself cum tonight.” His eyes widen at her sudden command, the contrast between her soft whines and demanding tone giving him whiplash and a tighter tent in his pants. A smirk grazed his lips at her demeanor, and he knew that his game was working.

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered out with a sly grin, hands immediately reaching behind his head to pull off the orange cabin shirt he adorned. His arms moved above his head to rid himself of the shirt, his muscles riveting with each flexing move. Now, it had been your turn to stare, to admire the work of art settled on his knees for you. He turned his body to throw his shirt next to your desk chair, and when he turned back to face his girl, he was met with hungry lips catching his own. You poured your love for Luke into the kiss, the ache seeping deep within your bones. Your lips broke apart before moving down his neck, savoring the taste and warmth of your lover. “I love you, Luke,” you breathed out between kisses. “You’re so pretty like this, baby.” He whined out at your touch and your words, his senses overwhelmed by the pure adoration you were pouring out for him.

His fingers dug themselves into the fat of your hips, holding onto you like a lifeline. His eyes screwed shut for a moment as he felt your mouth making its claim on his skin. Within an instant, your lips were back on his in a dizzying frenzy of lust and love. He pulled apart and held your chin, his eyes shifting between your swollen lips and your warm eyes. He pushed your body back down onto the mattress, his hands holding onto your hips so dearly.

He toyed with the button of your shorts, admiring the way the denim curved around your plush thighs. He looked back up at you through his lashes, catching a glimpse of your annoyed face. “Luke…” you had warned, but you both knew who was in control here. He smiled before moving his fingers to unbutton and unzip your shorts, sliding the fabric down your legs. He turned to throw the fabric toward the ever growing pile before eyeing a precious little bow on your panties, noticing how it unintentionally matched your bra.

“What is this, princess? ‘Got a present wrapped up for me?” He fiddled with the bow, grazing his finger right above your core. His hot breath fanned right above your aching pussy, and his hold on your thighs was too intoxicating. “Just for you, my love,” you whispered through shuddered breaths. Luke smirked at the thought of you being his and his only, and the thought only sent his mind into a frenzy.

His fingers grabbed the fabric resting on your hips before pulling down your panties, leaving you entirely vulnerable to his touch. He gently rubbed his thumb above your hip bones, reassuring you once he heard your breath pick up. “It’s okay baby, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, pressing kisses on the insides of your thighs. He took it upon himself to tease the skin there, leaving soft love bites for you to find in the morning. “I wanna make my girl feel good tonight,” he hummed out before pressing a kiss right above your core. You let out a whine, the desperate desire to feel his mouth on your pussy drove deep into your bones.

Within an instant, his tongue met her cunt, pushing its way inside her folds. The languid movement of his mouth against her left her breathless, his tongue fueling the fire in her belly.

He latched onto the taste of her, desperate to taste all of her. “Oh, fuck, Luke!” You breathed out between pants, the pleasure becoming dizzying. It became messy, but neither of you would complain. Your slick decorated his chin as his mouth moved diligently, trying to consume your nectar entirely. He threw your thighs above his shoulders, pressing your cunt ever closer to his face.

He lapped at you as if you were the only thing worth living for, drinking you up like his only lifeline. Given the proximity, it was no surprise his nose fumbled its way on your clit, but you couldn’t say you weren’t pleasantly surprised with the added feeling. The stimulation had become too much yet not enough all at once. The friction on your clit and in your folds send your mind into a fuzzy haze, drunk off the pleasure your lover was giving you. Your fingers shot straight to Luke’s curls, tugging on the strands. Luke moved his lips to attached onto your clit, and each scratch of his scalp sent him reeling, moaning around your bundled nerves. He shook his head in between your thighs, creating such a delicious feeling, it brimmed tears in your eyes. “Luke, please!” You cried out for more, desperation seeping out your core as Luke’s mouth kept you steady towards your first orgasm of the night.

It only took a few more flicks of his tongue on your clit to have the walls begin crumbling. You closed your legs around his head, locking him entirely on your cunt. His mouth trailed within your folds and his nose returned to rub on your clit. His mouth began writing symphonies in your pussy as your whines got increasingly louder, the sound a hymn to his ears as he knew you were close. He moved one of his hands to play with your eases nipple while the other gripped onto your hip so deeply, it was bound to leave a bruise in its wake.

With a few more strokes of his tongue on your pussy, your breathing had become desperate pants of air as you screwed your eyes shut. “Fuck, Luke, I’m coming,” you panted out. “I’m coming… I’m-“ And in that instant, your walls came crashing down. Your ears began ringing as blood rushed into your head, and you squeezed your thighs around Luke’s head. A throaty moan tumbled out your lips as you held tightly onto Luke’s locks, his tongue continuing its assault on your core. He was no longer doing this solely to please you, but to also satiate the lustrous hunger he had. The stimulation had become too much to bear, and tears began to fall down your pretty cheeks. “Luke, ‘s too much, I can’t,” you mumbled out in your fuzzy state. Your slick kept oozing out of your pussy, and Luke only took it as a challenge to drink you dry. It wasn’t until you tugged his curls, urging him away from your core, that he pulled away;

He moved his head back to catch a breath, eyes capturing the perfect glimpse of you in this new position: head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, back arched, and pussy clenching for something inside. “Good girl, baby. You did so good for me.” As your legs still rested above his shoulders, he took the opportunity to decorate your thighs with more kisses and love bites, filling the skin with more reminders of his love. He trailed his kisses down to your knees before standing up and making his way next to you.

He nuzzled you against him on the mattress, curling you deeply into his chest. You pressed your warm cheek against his chest as you caught your breath, focusing your hearing to his steady heartbeat. “Thank you, baby. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate you taking care of me.” She turned her head up towards her boyfriend, her lips grazing the column of his neck. He tilted his head down to meet her lips, sharing the taste of her on his lips. She moved her hand to hold his chin, but the proximity hadn’t been enough for the two of them (It never was.) She moved one leg to straddle over his lap, pressing her lips roughly against his.

“Already wanting round 2?” Luke pressed between kisses, smirking against her lips.

“Oh, don’t act surprised, Castellan.”

#luke castellan x reader #luke pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #luke x reader #luke.txt #luke castellan smut #i need him biblically #i also need to touch grass! #and go to sleep #pjo tv show #pjo fluff

[phfenomena]

❝in that lavender haze❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

| request- hear me out! lavender haze with tom 🤭

| A/N- done and done. im hearing you out and im listening so hard. i’ve been high probably like hundreds of times but still cannot properly word it sorry 💔

| WARNINGS- marijuana consumption (mega slay), kissing, eating, wine, tiktok, tooth rotting fluff,

(divider by @benkeibear)

the feeling of your lungs being filled with smoke made you giddy, everything with sharp edges turning soft and fuzzy. coughing lightly at the larger hit you’d taken you passed the blunt to your left, to tom.

your eyes fixed on the way his lips wrapped around it and the way he closed his eyes at the sensation. your hopeless crush on your mutual friend with rachel had been developing for months, seeing him at every gathering and meet up.

he was fairly nice and polite, the true english way. you just wished he’d converse with you, more than small talk. you’re laying on your back on the floor and studying the swirling patterns on the ceiling. out of your peripheral vision you see tom lay down next to you.

staring at the ceiling with you, you don’t ever say too much. and you don’t really read into my melancholia.

“you don’t have much to say, do you?” you question into the air hoping that tom would cling on. he hums and says “yeah, i don’t know what you like or what you don’t like so i jus’ say nothing.” you turn your head to face him- all caution thrown to the wind. you find it hard to care about your words in your state. “when i first met you i thought you hated me, you wouldn’t talk to me like how you talked to everyone else. thought i might’ve done something. sometimes i still think that.” you confess and it hangs lowly over both of you.

“i was honestly kind of scared of you. in my head you’re this cool actress who does slashers and everyone loves her. i didn’t wanna say the wrong thing.” you smile and place your hand on your chest. “you think i’m cool? i think you’re cooler, tom.”

his eyes crinkle when he laughs and you love it. you find it hard to decipher where the high ends and where how tom makes you feel starts, but they’re mixing. “i think you’re really cool. you do these cool like artistic horror movies and i’m kind of obsessed with your acting.”

i find it dizzying, they’re bringing up my history. but you aren’t even listening.

the group on the couch and chairs above you pass a bottle of wine and finish off the blunt. your friend laughs loudly and you turn to look at him. “do you remember that time last year when you dated the like entire cast of that one movie? what’s it called? i can’t remember. that was funny as shit.” you cringe and cover your face trying to forget.

tom lightly grazes your shoulder with his finger and whispers “are you hungry? i really want pizza right now.” you smile and nod. he wasn’t going to ask about your questionable past times. he pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. “i can’t function enough to order pizza, could you do it?” you happily nod and scroll your way through the menu before you both agree on toppings you both like.

i just wanna stay in that lavender haze. talk your talk and go viral, i just need this love spiral.

the pair had found themselves in a corner, talking and giggling over pizza whilst telling stories. “yeah! and she kept asking when i was going to settle down and get married. during an interview for a horror movie.” tom shakes his head and laughs. “i couldn’t get through one promo or interview without someone showing me at-least one edit of me. it was torture.” you pull your phone out and show him how edits of him had filled your timeline.

“you’re literally everywhere. i’m not complaining but sometimes i want to see something else!” he picks his phone up and shows your his own home page. “i’m sorry i ruined your tiktok, but this might make up for it.” his entire for you page was filled with edits of you and you co-stars from your latest movie.

you laugh and watch them “i had no idea people made edits of me, i feel honored. it’s like a right of passage.” he sets his phone down as well as his pizza. “they only the use the same ten clips of you covered in blood, i need more content.” you place you own pizza down and lean towards him.

“do you wanna know a secret i’m not supposed to tell anyone?” he nods and leans closer. “i’m gonna in the next scream movie and i’m one of the ghostface’s, you’re gonna see me murdering on the big screen.” he raises his eyebrows and you barley take into account how close your faces are.

“i love everything you’re in. when i first met you, i went home and watched everything you’ve done.” he confesses with a smile and red eyes. “i did the exact same thing, rachel told me i was creepy! we’re like each others biggest fans.”

get it off your chest, get it off my desk. that lavender haze, i just wanna stay.

you’re sitting in the bathtub of your bathroom passing a blunt back and forth between you and tom. “it’s so much quieter in here, i love them but they’re so loud.” you say leaning your head back on the tile. he softly chuckles and looks at you. “i can’t believe we could’ve been hanging out for months, i should’ve just talked to you.” you smile and set the blunt in the ashtray you brought with you.

“yeah but where’s the fun in that? this is probably the best night i’ve had in a while.” you turn to look at him and you study his features. you’ve never had a chance to really look at him, your glossy eyes try to memorize each slope and curve of his face.

“can i kiss you?” you whisper out before even realizing you’ve said it. he mutters a small ‘yes’ and you’re leaning in, like your body’s on autopilot. he tastes like weed and pizza, you couldn’t find a bone in your body that cared. you sluggishly manage to inch onto his lap. “you’re so pretty.” he whispers in between kisses. his hands find purchase on your waist, not letting you even dream of getting off of him.

you reluctantly pull back and his lips chase yours. “do you wanna hang out tomorrow?” you ask him with a smile. “i would be honored, maybe i’ll take you out on a real date.” his hands are rubbing small circles on your waist. “the press is gonna love that one.” you mutter out before leaning back into him.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth fluff #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader fluff #billy the kid fluff #billy bonney x reader #billy the kid #william bonney smut #william bonney fluff #william bonney x reader #william bonney #coriolanus fanfiction #lavender haze #taylor i love u

[bellamybellamyblake]

Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it. 

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster? 

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe. 

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say. 

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #acomaf #acowar #acofas #rhysand #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #acotar fandom #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #acotar angst #tw: sa #tw: sa mention

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level One

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.3K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

“You’re late.”

“No I’m not.”

You were. Twenty five minutes, in fact, and your stomach was still swirling from the night before, remnants of cheap beer and cheaper vodka mixing unhappily with the cold, strawberry pop-tart you’d force fed yourself on the way to work. 

Steve Harrington leant against the wall with a grin as he watched you struggle to clock in, the old machine chewing up your employee card before it finally stamped it. You pushed past him, shoulder into his in a way that was awfully familiar now. The blunt words, the eye rolls, the semi serious acts of violence all part of your work day and they had been since last summer. He didn’t give in to you, arms colliding, the smell of his cologne now on your T-shirt too. 

“Hungover?” Steve asked, enjoying the way you squinted against the harsh, fluorescent strip lights. 

The office was much quieter than the arcade outside of the staff doors and you were trying your best to stay away from the sounds of Super Mario and Pac-Man for as long as you could. Except Steve wasn’t making it easy. 

“No,” you lied again. You were so hungover, stupidly hungover. And tired. You’d barely managed to crawl back through your bedroom window when the sun was beginning to rise, the summer outside starting back up as the sky turned apricot and the birds sang. Eddie had walked you home, both of you sharing the last dregs from a lukewarm beer before he bent at the waist and let you use his back as a footstool, groaning and swearing at you as you took too long to grab the end of the broken trellis. “What’s with the fucking interrogation, Harrington? Did Murray die and leave you in charge?”

Outside the office, the arcade machines jingled, beeping and ringing with each win and loss, the constant clinkclinkclink of quarters being dropped into the coin slots, the yells of sugared up kids making your head pound. 

“Nah,” Steve’s grin only widened, an almost smirk that made you grit your teeth together. You busied yourself at your locker, shoving your bag into the too small space, the rattle of the metal hurting your very being. “Seeing you each morning is just the best part of my day.” 

You rolled your eyes at Steve’s blatant lie, snorting at the possibility you could both be anything close to friends. Steve Harrington lived to annoy you, and had done since middle school. He spent the first couple of grades annoying you at recess, pulling your hair and snickering with his friends when you yelled, all pink cheeked and shocked looking when you stomped towards him, indignant, shoving the heel of your buttercup yellow shoe into his toes. 

It went on like that, spitballs launched from each end of the classroom, backs of chairs kicked and faces pulled at the other during presentations. Then you both got older and the words got colder, scathing remarks made in the hallway, lockers defaced with semi serious insults and potential dates ruined by mocking comments said in front of crushes. 

Then high school was over, Hawkins seemed to get smaller and the only job available to get you enough cash to leave the tiny, backwater town was a position beside Steve at Upside Down Arcade. Run by someone who everyone only knew as Murray - a man who had absolutely no time for anyone under the age of twenty five and was utterly inept with technology - the arcade was a staple in Hawkins. As permanent a feature as the community pool, the town hall and the library; the brown brick building looked bland from the street outside, but stepping in the doors led kids into a maze of gaming machines, air hockey tables and neon lights. 

The carpets had seen better days, the Space Invaders themed pattern a headache of dulled yellows, purples reds and greens, the painted black walls barely seen behind the rows and rows of games, all brightly light and beeping, illuminations flashing pink and blue, leaderboard charts mocking on the screens. 

It smelled like burnt sugar and stale popcorn, despite the machine not having worked for over a decade. A heavy mix of all things bad for you: sour candy, old hotdogs, cherry slush stains and pre-teen hormones. 

“If I’m somehow even bringing you the slightest bit of joy with my presence, Harrington,” you deadpanned, “then I’m doing it wrong.” You slammed the locker door shut and smirked when Steve had to yank his hand back, fingers narrowly avoided. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, moving only to grab his name badge from the board, making sure he knocked yours onto the floor when he shoved the bundle of keys into his pocket that opened up all the coin slots. 

“Murray’s not in until later, Donkey Kong is fried and oh,” he clicked his fingers and pointed a digit at you, all faux sympathy making his face soften. “I knocked you off the top spot on Dig Dug. Again.”

You glared. Steve grinned. 

 You wanted to say something sharp, something witty and mean, but your head was still pounding and your throat felt like the Sahara Desert. “Bite me, Steven,” you muttered instead, shoving past the boy so you could get out the door first, for no other reason than simply to feel like you’d won something. 

Steve was too close behind you when he answered, all charm and flirt, the cadence of his voice dropped to the level he used when he flirted with the older girls that brought in their baby siblings. 

“Bend over then, Princess Peach,” he cooed, “at least lemme see what I’m working with.” His voice was at your ear, his stupid hair tickling at your cheek. 

The stupid nickname made your nostrils flare, but the suggestive comment before it had your toes curling. You scoffed, shocked, because as the summer crawled by and the heat got higher, you and Steve’s snipes were getting more and more below the belt.

But that was his bravest yet. 

You didn’t bother turning round, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and Jesus, you were sure your cheeks were flushed - but if he dared comment on it, you would’ve blamed it on the hangover you told him you didn’t have. 

“You’re a pig,” you bit out, ignoring how he kept close behind you as you finally braved opening the door. 

The arcade was already full to the brim, bursting with kids, a line of them at the desk, ticket stubs clutched in sticky hands, dollar bills ready to be exchanged for bags full of coins. The door almost hit Steve when you let it go behind you, his hands barely catching it as he scowled at your retreating figure. You planned to lurk in the darkest corner of the arcade for your entire shift, maybe sipping on a stolen slurpee, biding your time and waiting for your headache to soften enough in order to conjure a formulated attack on the Dig Dug machine. 

You turned around just before Steve served the first customer, narrowing your eyes at him in suspicion. He was already behind the cash register, Erica Sinclairs bundle of tickets in his hands as the girl pointed at a toy sword in the cabinet. 

“And don’t even try and pretend you haven’t looked before,” you called back to him, smug and referring to his lewd comment before. “Oh, ‘lemme see what I’m working with’,” you mimicked. “You’re not sly, asshole.”

A few kids tittered at the insult, Dustin Henderson snorting especially loud, but some gasped at how you cursed in front of them, a sure fire way to know there’d be a hand written complaint about on Murray’s desk tomorrow. You’d hoped your jab would make Steve shrink, maybe blush like he used to when you got all brave and bold with him. Shit, maybe he’d even had the right to look ashamed. 

But he simply shrugged, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking at you but his expression was still the same. 

Pleased. Too cocky. Challenging. 

You went straight to Dig Dug. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

[lu-sn]

i am here today to talk about HORRIBLE OVERSIGHT in the pete fandom we NEED to correct our ways and see the light

but it is ok i will Explain

ok do u see this

this is a pha khao ma (spelling up for debate). it's a waistcloth commonly worn in south and southeast asia — you may have heard of it as a lungi / longyi. it's a rectangular, light, soft piece of cloth that (mostly) men tie around their (mostly) waists to wear in hot humid climates because it's very comfy and breezy and dries fast.

some fun facts:

it's very common to wear right out of the bath / shower because the dampness stays on your skin for a while after so this helps air it out

underwear is ✨ optional ✨ (although really mostly only at home. the fear of being pantsed in public is universal, after all)

it's often worn at home, but people wear it out as well and it is especially common in rural communities. if you've got a bunch of old uncles sitting outside on a veranda in a small town, they're all maybe sitting around in pha khao mas

(let me follow this up with: while it is common in rural regions, people in rural areas all over thailand do also just wear shirts and shorts and pants 😂 it is merely an option, not a rule)

what you see is the casual version. there are much more formal versions, and fashionable versions, and they are apparently having a resurgence with the thailand youth rn

the plaid-like patterning is a specific design that has centuries of history in thailand! different regions produce styles of designs with vibrantly different colors and dyes, and they're very proud of it

there's many ways to tie it: in these pictures, pete has it tied so that it hangs down well past his knees, but you can hoist them up to mostly be around your upper legs (leaving the knees showing). this gives you a TON more mobility to, say, run around or climb trees or beat up people

here is a reference of real people wearing pha khao mas. as you can see they are chilling

and the most important fun fact of all:

post-canon pete wears it ALL. THE. TIME.

we know pete wears these in the privacy of his home! they're his comfy post-shower post-workout jammies! every time we see him with one he has a different one! HE HAS LIKE SIX MORE OF THESE TUCKED AWAY.

he probably wore them a lot around his yaai. and now, at home, vegas sees him in them CONSTANTLY.

you may be looking at me, and then looking at these photos, and then looking again at me, and going, lu, noooooooo, this ruins the post-canon pete being unbearably cute and stylish and hot agenda!!! to which i say

no

it ENHANCES IT. it's about the DICHOTOMY

vegas watches as pete walks out of the bathroom wearing one of these and nothing else, and they're riding real low on his hips, and vegas chokes out a "what the hell are you wearing" and pete leans against the doorframe and wiggles his eyebrows and puts on his thickest northern accent and says "you wanna fuck me so bad city boy" and he's RIGHT OKAY VEGAS HATES THEM AND VEGAS DOES WANT TO FUCK HIM SO BAD ANYWAYS

macau gives pete sooo much shit for it but then he watches pete kick ass in one during training one day and pete looks like some rural film movie star in his tank top and pha khao ma and his fists of fury and macau goes, huh, actually, phi looks fucking cool, can i have one

when they visit yaai pete basically forgoes pants and just wears these all the time and blends in with all the old grandpas who pat pete on the back and ask him for his opinions on politics and vegas is so fucking confused and totally in love do you UNDERSTAND

anyway. all of this to say, if you were to write fics where pete wears a pha khao ma and/or draw him in one it would be HIGHLY CANONICALLY ACCURATE. and i would love you. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

(and thanks to @minorfamilysupremacy for being the first victim of said ted talk)

#i am simply spreading the agenda #this is very important to me. we talk extensively about ass-out pete but NEVER ABOUT PHA KHAO MA PETE #it is a Look. it is CRITICAL TO HIS CHARACTER #also allows for uh #easy access #👀 #if you know what i mean #i hope this was informative LOL and if i got anything wrong or you have more to add please let me know!!!! #kinnporsche #pete saengtham #vegaspete

[thelightsandtheroses]

One: I was just coasting until we met

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: When Joel finds you on your self-assigned insomnia bench one night, it sparks an unexpected friendship that quickly develops into more. Finding peace in the middle of an apocalypse always seemed impossible, but being with Joel feels natural, like a missing piece has fallen into place at last. When a ghost from your past threatens to destroy the peace you’ve found in Jackson, everything will change.

Word Count: 2.5k

Overarching Series Warnings - 18+ blog - minors do not interact, unexpected friendship, developing relationship, idiots in love, flangst, typical TLOU content, references to cults, references to past manipulation, references to past violence, references to PTSD, single parent reader, some secondary original characters, etc. No use of Y/N, any further warnings to be added as appropriate. No specific age for reader, but range is implied in later chapters (minimum of 30s but not specified any further than that) Notes: This idea has been going around my head for months and I’m so excited to actually do something with this and share it. Also, a special thank you to the lovely @darkroastjoel for encouraging me to write this weeks ago when I wasn’t sure of the concept. The chapter title is from I’m With You by Vance Joy. 

One: I was just coasting till we met

Series List | Next

Jackson, WY, 2024

There’s nothing but stars and night sky ahead of you. If you look behind you, you can see a few sparse lights illuminating houses in Jackson, but ahead of you there are no distractions, just the trees and the sky and vastness of the world around you.

The air is cool and smells fresh; a mix of woodland, of the night. You adjust the thick woollen cardigan around your pyjama top and faded sweatpants. There’s no one around at this time of night so you haven’t made a real effort to get dressed or worry about your appearance.

You’ve come here many times before but it never fails to take you aback. The vastness, the stars, the way it makes you feel insignificant but not in a negative way. The only sounds you can hear are the insects and wind blowing through trees.

It’s peaceful, or as close to peaceful as exists these days. For a while, you could forget about the world you live in, convince yourself the last twenty years have been some sick fever dream instead.

In the two years you’ve lived in Jackson, this has become your spot. It’s where you go when you can’t sleep. It’s where you go when the past gets to you, when you either wake because of creeping nightmares and ghosts, or after hours of lying in your bed in a restless, anxious state wishing for slumber. 

You only ever come here at night. It’s as if there’s some sort of magic in place that would either ruin or remove the bench in the daytime. 

When you first came to this town, the idea of wandering around in the middle of the night seemed preposterous, downright reckless after living in Kansas QZ. 

However, one night you hit a breaking point.

You’d been lying in your bed, restless and unable to relax. Every time you thought you might finally drift into sleep, your heart would race and your throat would be so dry that you wondered if you were dying. You would become irrationally concerned you might just stop breathing if you did fall asleep at all. It was a pattern of insomnia that had followed you for years, from before Kansas and beyond. When you did finally sleep, you’d have nightmares, but most of your nights were shaped by restlessness.

That night, as you desperately tried not to wake anyone else up, hating them all for being able to sleep, you felt like you were going to finally break. You had to get out, just clear your head a little. 

You discovered the bench that night, perfectly positioned to watch the sunrise, to take in the world around you without distraction or worries.

It’s a special spot; serene and soothing. It’s your sanctuary.

 Sometimes you don’t need to come here, your record is a week and half away - an achievement you only reached a few days ago, but inevitably, and usually at least twice a week, you’ll end up back on your bench waiting for the sun to meet you and wash away your ghosts. 

There’s the crunching sound of boots on gravel behind you and you turn around cautiously, one hand clinging to the edge of the bench. You’ve been complacent, you chastise yourself, you don’t even have a weapon with you.

Joel Miller stands before you; a battered brown coat buttoned up to his neck, torch in one hand, with the other jammed into a jacket pocket, and a bemused expression on his face when he sees you sitting there.

You’ve heard enough of him from the other locals since his arrival; he’s Tommy’s older brother, Maria isn’t sure of him, he settled here with a teenage ward a couple of months ago. Some of the other locals have said Ellie, the girl, is almost feral. Your impression of her from fleeting visits to the library is that she’s curious, she’s haunted, not used to a community like Jackson (and these days, who would be?) and perhaps the most honest person you’ve met in years. 

”May I?” he asks, indicating the empty space on the bench next to you. You almost want to laugh at the Southern lilt to his voice, the polite manners he’s showing you. 

‘May I?’ is not a phrase that belongs in this world anymore. People take, some people give, but most take. When the world ends, manners fade. When the world ends, you ask for forgiveness and not permission. 

It’s why your instinct is to say no, to say ‘Actually fuck you, Tommy’s brother, and go find another insomnia bench, this one is mine!’

You don’t do that though. Jackson brings back those manners, or it’s trying to at least. And even if you think it belongs to you, technically it’s not your bench because this is a stupid commune. 

So you grimace and nod, frustrated about the interruption as Joel Miller sits next to you. 

It’s the first time you’ve had a chance to look at Tommy’s brother this closely.  While you can see the familial similarities, Joel’s different. His greying dark hair is far shorter, almost messy at the moment like he’s just woken up and walked here. It’s almost endearing.

There’s a scar on the right side of his temple, the one closest to you, and you try and take in every detail of him, to analyse and evaluate just who this person next to you could be. 

You expect to feel uncomfortable at his presence, to feel on edge and ready to flee or pounce, but you don’t.  

“It’s uh, a good view from here,” Joel says after a moment. 

You nod noncommittally and clasp your hands together on your lap. 

“I’ve seen you around Jackson. I’m Joel,” he continues. His voice is surprisingly soft, gentle as though he wants to put you at ease. It shows a level of consideration you didn’t expect, one that makes you more honest in your reply.

“It’s a small town, I know who you are, Joel Miller.” 

“Oh really?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow and for a second something else flashes across his face. “What have you been told about me then?”

“You’re new, you’re Tommy’s brother. I think that’s about it. Heard you and Tommy are good on patrol.” 

“Oh yeah?” Unlike most of the men in Jackson, he doesn’t seem to puff with pride at that compliment. He looks at his hands, wringing them together then before asking, “So, that’s me. What about you then? What’s your name?”

You introduce yourself, taking in the way he repeats your name - how it sounds on his lips.

“I haven’t seen you around town much before,” he says after a moment.

“Would you have even noticed?”

“Someone like you? Most definitely.” You look at the ground in surprise, certain that you’re misinterpreting his words. 

He’s just being polite.

It’s just the insomnia. 

“It is a good view. You’re right,” you say quietly, keen to shift the conversation away from yourself and back to this moment. “It’s a really great spot for the sunrise.”

“I know,” he says calmly.

You pause. Has Joel Miller been using your bench when you haven’t? Is your bench essentially cheating on you?  You’ve always believed this was your secret, your place, but perhaps it’s a timeshare instead.

For some reason, the thought of that upsets you more than you expect.  You try and shake it off though, to be polite and good and everything someone who lives in Jackson is expected to be.

Perhaps you can share the bench … today. Just for today.

“How are you liking Jackson so far then?” you ask.

Joel scoffs quietly to himself and you look over with raised eyebrows. 

“Been asked that a few times already, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“Why am I not surprised? Well, we don’t get that many new arrivals and you’re Tommy’s brother. People were bound to talk. They’ll settle down when something else comes along.”

“‘S been weeks now. Besides, I thought you just said you don’t get many newcomers, how long exactly is this going to last?” he asks, leaning forward for a moment, his arms crossed on his knees and head down.

You smile to yourself, wondering if you should admit how long it took for people to stop asking your group how you were liking Jackson, how long it has really taken to be seen as a resident and not a new arrival. 

“Well, there’s a new litter of puppies due soon, and I heard a rumour that there’s going to be another dance again in the next few weeks. Your arrival will become old news before you know it,” you say with false sincerity.

He chuckles to himself. “This really is like a small town, huh? That uh, -“

“Nosiness? Lack of privacy? Gossip mill?”

“All of the above. So, you think puppies will help?”

“Everyone loves puppies, Joel Miller. Probably even you do.”

He smirks. “Really, do I look like that to you?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice, mischief in what you can make out of his eyes in the dim light. 

“Sure you do.”

“So we’ve just got to wait for a bunch of puppies or some town dance for me an’ Ellie to be old news? Okay, here’s hoping.”

A silence falls between you but unlike before, it feels companionable, calming even. 

“So, you said ‘I know’ when I said it was a good spot for the sunrise. Does that mean you’ve been out here before then?” you ask as your curiosity finally wins out. 

Joel looks over at you with a smirk, “Why, is that really bothering you, huh? A couple of times, sure.” He shifts his weight slightly, places an arm on the bench and turns himself so he’s facing you.

“I just haven’t seen you out here before, that’s all.”

“You come out here at this hour a lot?” Joel raises an eyebrow that you can’t tell whether conveys being impressed or incredulous.

“Sometimes,” you say lightly. Most times.

“How long have you been out here then?” Joel asks.

“On this bench? About an hour. In Jackson? Two years, give or take.”

 “An’ how are you likin’ Jackson so far?” he asks, a mischievous spark in his eyes that even in the dim light takes years off him, makes him look lighter. 

You laugh before you can stop yourself. 

“Touché, Joel.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

“Do you know what? Honestly, I didn’t believe it at first,” you say after a moment. “Places like this - they don’t work, okay? Someone always wants to be in control, power abhors a vacuum and then power corrupts, right? We were watching that play out before cordyceps, and if I’ve learned anything these last twenty years …  so when we got here, I didn’t want to stick around too long. I guess that I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop? Only now, now I’m still here and I guess this place, maybe it just works. It shouldn’t, but it does.”

You’re not sure what makes the truth spill out of you like that. Perhaps it’s because it’s the middle of the night, or it’s the power of the bench, or more likely, it’s because you know Joel is probably out here for a similar reason to you. 

You can see it in his eyes, in the way he’s sitting. 

“That’s what my - my - I’ve heard that before.  That this place actually works,” Joel says. “I know what you mean though. You see enough of all that in the QZs. Is that where you were before here?”

“Before Jackson, I was in Kansas for a while.” 

“Oh.” 

“Huh, I take it you’ve heard the stories then?” 

Kansas had a reputation amongst all the remaining QZs. FEDRA had been brutal there; ruled the city with an iron fist and realised every nightmare of a brutal regime.

 It was no surprise the fireflies had been so present there at one point, the symbol of hope and rising up against tyranny. Only they had abandoned Kansas years ago and it was down to those who stayed to try and fight back. You remembered Michael, who had tried to lead a movement against FEDRA, a man who was working towards a peaceful rebellion, as if such a thing could exist.  The QZ had gone dark months ago though. It didn’t bode well and you’d heard the whispers that perhaps Kansas was no more. 

“I uh - passed through on my way here.” Joel shifts awkwardly.

“It’s gone, isn’t it?”

Joel pauses and regards you carefully before he replies.“Yeah.”

“I take it that FEDRA and Michael’s group just - it doesn’t matter actually.” They’re all dead anyway, you think, the facts won’t change that.  

Flashes of years pass you. 

Violence. So much violence. Then those moments between, the ones that managed to burrow and bury themselves beneath your skin.

Your ex-boyfriend and you kissing in the kitchen of your crappy apartment  …

Your birthday - singing to that cheesy rock song in the living room and dancing to an old song with Sean and his sister.

Marking Gabriel’s height each birthday on the kitchen wall because it felt like a normal thing to do, a new line each year, each growth spurt measured.

Your ex-boyfriend and you arguing over the system, over the possibilities for Kansas. You wonder how long he lasted after you left Kansas - if he was there for its end.

Separations … losses …  too many deaths … pockets of hope and continued disappointments.

You okay?” Joel asks, a reluctant expression on his face.

“I’m fine. Left there for a reason.”

“Right.”

“It’s fine.”

Kansas had never really been home. You can’t make a home in a place you’re constantly on alert in, where you subsist on fear and anxiety. You could exist there though and at least in Kansas it was clear who was running the show, clear who was in charge. 

Jackson is the closest to a home you’ve found in more than twenty years, and even here you feel halfway out of the door. 

Joel’s still looking at you though, his brow furrowed like you’re a map he can’t read, an unfathomable equation.

You shrug and resume staring ahead at the forest ahead, at letting every sound, smell and sound around you just soak in, to create an illusion of peace.

After a while you steal a glance at Joel. He’s still on the other side of the bench; the hand on the arm leaning on the bench now pinching the space behind his brows, his eyes momentarily shut.

You’re not sure exactly how much time passes like this but soon the darkness fades and dawn rises to greet you with the promise of a new day.

You stand up, brushing imaginary dirt off your clothes and meet Joel’s gaze. “See you around, Joel Miller.”

“See you,” he replies lightly.

As you walk down the hill, you turn around and notice Joel’s still sitting there, focused on the horizon ahead.

This isn’t going to be the only time you find Joel on your bench, you realise. Suddenly, your lonely but peaceful sanctuary has an addition. You know the two of you will find yourselves on this bench again in the middle of the night.

If you hadn’t spoken to Joel, the loss of that solitude would be devastating, but it’s not. 

 So, you think to yourself, it turns out you’re not the only insomniac wanderer in Jackson.

Tag List

YHIM: @orcasoul @pedropascalsbbg @yoursoulsunbreakable @iamskyereads @genetics4life @everyth1ngfan @frickatives @perennialdoll247

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk

If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #your hand in mine fic

[kittyadore]

I wait for you

—𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦!42 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱

—𝘴𝘢𝘥, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨

—𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵; 3𝘬

—𝘢/𝘯; hi lovelies, i know i was supposed to post this like 2 days ago AND it wasnt supposed to be longer than 1,5k but i got a bit carried away.. also yall aint ready for this i promise i put my heart into this

You always hated waiting for your boyfriend. You absolutely despised it, every time you had to wait for Miles, because he had something 'important' ruin your plans. Not talking about him being a couple minutes late, but whole hours. This man got you waiting hours for him to come to your date, cause of his important shit.

In anticipation of the day, your heart brimmed with excitement for the long-awaited date you had planned with him. The nostalgia swept over you, knowing that today, you were destined to revisit the very restaurant where your first date happened, a place tinged with sentimental memories.

As you prepared for the evening, a soft melody escaped your lips, a reflection of the contentment that filled your heart. The sight of your boyfriend never failed to make your heart flutter, even though you two see each other on a daily basis. How could it be otherwise? In your eyes, he embodied perfection, a sentiment that filled you with gratitude for his presence in your life, day after day.

You got abruptly brought back to the reality as you heard the chime of a notification coming from your phone, the fleeting joy that had enveloped you dissipated as you reluctantly opened a text message from Miles, its contents shrouded in uncertainty.

[mi novio]: sorry ma, ill be abit late

[mi novio]: just a couple minutes dw, its something really important

[mi novio]: ill make it up to u

[you]: ur joking miles

With a mixture of frustration and resignation, you flung your phone onto the bed, releasing a heavy sigh that echoed through the room. It was a familiar scene, for his perpetual tardiness had become a predictable pattern. Yet, deep down, a glimmer of hope persisted, longing for a change this time.

Despite your longing to remain nestled in the comfort of your bed, the difficult struggle to secure a reservation at the coveted restaurant compelled you to get up to embark on your journey. Reluctantly, you grabbed your phone and tucked it into your purse. . A light mist of perfume adorned your being, a final touch of preparation. As you approached the front door, ready to step outside, you got stopped by your mother.

"Have fun sweetie! You going out with Miles?" Your mother's words echoed in the air as you gazed at her, a confused expression etched upon your face. Who else could you be going out with, considering your carefully chosen attire.

"Yeah mom, Miles." Under your breath, a mutter escaped your lips accompanied by an eye roll. You said goodbye to your mother and slowly made your way to your destiny. As you traversed the crowded streets of Brooklyn, you found solace in the sanctuary of your thoughts, determined to fend off mounting frustration aimed at Miles.

However, your patience had reached its breaking point. Despite your unwavering love for your boyfriend, you couldn't understand why was he always so late. His explanations of "it's important" or "it's my work" fell short, leaving you yearning for a deeper understanding that he seemed unwilling to provide, despite your heartfelt appeals. You couldn't help but wonder, could his reasons truly be so dire as to justify the constant disregard for your feelings?

Abruptly, a sharp masculine voice shattered the confines of your trance, jolting you back to reality. You strained to place the unfamiliar sound that pierced the air, it was definitely not Miles.

"Hey, hottie!" You visibly cringed at the words, walking away from the man. "Come on, talk to me."

"I have a boyfriend."You retorted firmly, refusing to stop. The stranger's advances failed to sway your resolve. "He doesn't have to know, really." He grabbed you by your shoulder, compelling you to meet his gaze, a physical imposition that demanded your attention.

"Fuck off." You firmly pushed him away in utter disgust, asserting your boundaries with unwavering strength. "No means no, and you better remember that." Accelerating your pace, a surge of urgency propelled you forward, fueled by a desperate need to escape any potential danger, trying to reach the destination as fast as possible.

Sitting yourself at the fancy reserved table, you took your phone out, but seeing no messages from your boyfriend made the faint smile fade off your face.

[you]: how long do u think it will take u

[you]: im waiting

As silence persisted from Miles, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, prompting you to seek solace in the realm of social media, curious about the lives of your friends. However, upon encountering a picture of your best friend and her girlfriend, accompanied by the "I love you" caption, a pang of unease twisted your stomach. Sure, you were glad she was happy, but the an insidious jealousy gnawed at your insides. In an attempt to stifle those feelings, you left a like on the image before returning to the conversation with Miles, desperately hoping that perhaps you had missed a message from him.

[you]: how long do u think it will take u

[you]: im waiting

seen

Seen. Three simple letters stared back at you, a stark departure from the norm. Miles had never once left you hanging, always quick to respond with a brief "can't talk rn" or "one sec." You tapped your nails on the table nervously, as a torrent of worrisome thoughts flooded your mind. Yet, among the anxiety, you desperately clung to self-reassurance, convincing yourself that he must be preoccupied with matters at hand, nothing more sinister or distressing.

[you]: miles?? everything okay?

[you]: im worried

Still nothing. . Concern mounted within you as minutes slipped by, morphing into an agonizing hour, with nothing but deafening silence emanating from your boyfriend. As the time was passing, it was finally time to leave the fancy place and make your way back home. Rising from your seat, a sense of hesitation clung to you like a shadow, your fingers lingering over the final check of phone notifications, before reluctantly leaving the building.

On your way back, you decided the best way to make all the bad thoughts go away is to grab a coffee. The very place where Miles had always whisked you away to after your dates, serving as a comforting refuge upon your return home, teemed with bustling crowds. Undeterred, you made the conscious choice to partake in your usual order, braving the crowd before embarking on the remaining walk homeward.

"Can I have the same as always, please?" you addressed the familiar cashier, whom you knew by name, as it was your turn to place an order. She received your request, responding with a gentle smile that graced her face. Completing the transaction, you exchanged payment for the awaited drink, patiently waiting for its preparation. With the warm cup now in your hands, you travelled the bustling streets of Brooklyn, a decision solidified within you to pay a visit to Miles' mother, consumed by growing concern for your beloved boyfriend.

Knocking on the door of the familiar place, you were greeted by Rio's radiant smile and tender embrace, a comforting presence amidst the storm of your emotions. Her perceptive eyes swiftly captured the worry etched upon your face, prompting an immediate shift on her face.

"Hey, what's the matter sweetheart? Did mi hijo do something again? I swear this boy is only trouble." she inquired, concern evident in her tone. She shook her head, almost as if she had already anticipated the nature of the problem. In response, a gentle laugh escaped your lips, a reassurance that the situation was not exactly as she presumed.

"Well, he simply didn't show up for our date. I mean he said he was going to be late, but it's been over an hour now and there's been no response to my texts," You explained, your voice tinged with worry. Anxiety flooded your thoughts once more, flooding you in a torrent of unsettling possibilities. "I'm really worried about him, this kind of thing never happens. I'm just scared something happened to him" You confided, seeking solace in the comforting embrace of Rio, not wanting to imagine a world without her son, your boyfriend.

Seated together on the couch, both you and Miles' mother found yourselves in a state of uncertainty, unaware of where the boy is. In an attempt to distract your troubled mind, she kindly offered you a slice of cake she had recently baked. As conversation flowed freely, spanning topics both trivial and profound, a sudden realization washed over you. In the warm embrace of this space, a sense of belonging enveloped your being, stirring a feeling that extended beyond mere comfort. Here, within these walls, you felt an unexplainable sense of safety, an assurance that surpassed any other place you had ever known.

The light-hearted conversation between you and the woman was abruptly interrupted by the distant ringing of her phone emanating from another room. She let out a small sigh, rising from the couch and making her way towards her bedroom to retrieve the device. While a wave of curiosity washed over you, it didn't feel appropriate to ask about the caller, knowing it wasn't your place to do so. Yet, deep within your heart, a glimmer of hope flickered— a silent wish that it would be Miles on the other end, assuring his mother of his well-being and providing an explanation for his absence.

A heavy breath escaped her lips as she returned from the other room, her trembling hands struggling to maintain a grip on the phone. Your attention instinctively turned towards her, and the expression on your face shifted abruptly as you took in the state she was in, a mixture of concern and apprehension washing over you.

"Is everything okay?" you asked, your voice trembling with fear and genuine concern, as she seemed to have heard something quite bad. "Is it.. Is it about him?" You questioned, your voice barely above a whisper, anxiety tightening its grip on your heart.

Her gaze fixated upon your face, a swift nod affirming the gravity of your concerns. "The hospital." she uttered with a sense of urgency, the weight of those two words lingering in the air. In a swift motion, she hastened towards the door, leaving you rooted in place, unable to move. The two words echoed through your mind, causing you to freeze in utter disbelief. The hospital? What happened? Questions swirled within, leaving you yearning for answers, your heart gripped by an unsettling sense of unease.

Not wanting to stay behind, and desperate for answers, you hurriedly trailed after her to the waiting car, realizing the urgency of reaching your destination as swiftly as possible. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on your heart, knowing that your boyfriend's life hung in the balance, yet unable to understand the extent of the danger. Unwilling to burden Miles' mother with probing questions, you refrained from seeking specifics. As daunting as it appeared to you, you couldn't help but acknowledge that the ordeal was undoubtedly even more distressing for her.

On your way to the hospital, an undeniable tension enveloped the car, willing to broach the unfolding situation. The weight of the unspoken words hung heavily in the air, intermittently interrupted by muted coughs and the rhythm of pounding hearts, mirroring the whirlwind of inexplicable questions that consumed your thoughts. Each glimpse of crimson traffic lights intensified the sense of urgency, causing both of you to lose your minds, as reaching your destination with maximum haste became the main objective in that critical moment.

Exiting the vehicle in haste, the two of you stumbled towards the entrance of the hospital, urgency propelling your every step. With a sense of determination, you swiftly reached the reception area, conveniently located near the entrance. You, your voice laced with concern, immediately inquired about the whereabouts of your boyfriend.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but that's the information only the family can get." She spoke, looking up at me from her seat, as I tapped my fingers nervously on the table. Her words echoed in my mind as Miles' mom stood up "I'm his mother!"

"Alright, ma'am, I get it. But her?" she gestured towards me, her finger pointed in my direction. "I'm sorry, I don't make the rules." Hearing those words, I moved away to the side, hoping that the woman at the reception could provide any information to Miles' mother. She shook her head in disappointment, releasing a heavy sigh, and then guided the two of you towards the room where your boyfriend was laying. As you traversed the corridor, your breath grew heavier, permeating the air with anxiety, while the glimpse of other occupied rooms passed by in a blur.

As you finally reached the desired room, you found yourself standing before its closed door, grappling with mixed emotions. While a part of you yearned to lay eyes on your beloved boyfriend, another part hesitated, fearing the sight of him in a vulnerable state. Miles held an irreplaceable position in your heart, and the mere thought of witnessing him in pain inflicted a pang of distress within you.

As the woman entered the hospital room, requesting you to wait outside for when she's finished, you decided to settle into one of the unwieldy chairs that lined the sterile hallway.Grasping a fashion magazine, you attempted to distract your racing thoughts, seeking solace in its glossy pages. However, your mind couldn't help but be consumed by a constant stream of questions, each one a knot of concern, wondering about what happened to Miles.

The sound of the door creaking disrupted your focus, drawing your attention away from the tightly clutched magazine. In response, you swiftly rose from your seat, hope and anxiety intertwining in your gaze as you awaited the woman's response. A faint smile played upon her lips as she met your gaze, her voice barely above a whisper as she murmured, "He's fine… I think." Her hand gently settled upon your shoulder, urging you forward, and you obediently followed her lead, guided towards the room.

With deliberate steps and hushed breaths, you entered the room, treading softly to minimize any disruption that might disturb Miles. The sight before you stopped your movement, capturing your attention and evoking a mix of relief and concern. There he was, your beloved boyfriend, laying on the hospital bed, hurt by quite a dangerous situation.

His braided hair laid loosely on the sides of his peaceful face, his eyes closed, and his head slightly tilted to one side. Taking a seat on a small chair positioned by the hospital bed, you delicately intertwined your hand with his, craving his touch and connection. Despite yearning for his warmth, you exercised caution, not wanting to cause him any discomfort. Your thumb gently traced patterns on his hand, letting out a deep sigh of affection as you admired his face, finding solace in his presence even amidst the current circumstances.

His shaking voice disrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention away from your contemplation of his features. Startled, you realized he was awake, his eyes still closed as he spoke. "Hey, ma," he began, his words laced with regret. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I'm sorry I kept you waiting." His apology hung in the air, permeating the room with a mixture of vulnerability and guilt.

"Miles, what on earth are you talking about?" you responded, disbelief tinged with deep concern in your voice. Your gaze scanned his face, your eyes stuck on his. "Look at yourself; this is not the time nor place for apologies. I'm just glad that you're okay. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. Your words carried a genuine reassurance, urging him to recognize the profound relief you felt at his safety, and your inability to comprehend why he would blame himself in such a moment.

"I wanted to see you, ma. I know I'm always late or cancel our plans, I wanted to change that. I knew how much it meant to you, believe me. I realized how late I was, and I hurried to be with you, mami. But then this happened." he explained, his voice loaded with a mix of regret and urgency, his grip on your hand tightening. As his breath grew deeper, a sense of concern washed over you. "Are you okay? Miles?" you asked, worry etched in your voice, your attentiveness catching the shift in his breathing pattern.

"I'm fine," he reassured, though his attempts to calm himself proved pointless. "It's nothing, really. They'll release me soon, and I'll be back home before you know it, I promise, ma." You looked at him, concern deep in your eyes, as he spoke. You gazed at him, your eyes filled with deep concern as he spoke. The worry for his well-being weighed heavily on your heart, knowing that the state he was in was far from one that would warrant his immediate release.

"Miles, you can't be released soon. Just look at yourself, you need time to heal and regain your strength. I promise, I'll visit you as often as I can, but your health comes first. You don't look well at all," you started, wanting to express your genuine concern for your boyfriend. However, your heartfelt words were abruptly stopped by a long, uninterrupted sound that pierced the air, causing you to gasp in fear. Your eyes darted towards the nearby device, and your heart sank as you noticed a significant change on its display.

The door swung open, revealing Miles' mother standing outside, her face etched with worry. In a sudden rush, a couple of doctors rushed past her and into the room where Miles layed. Your body felt frozen, still gripping his hand tightly as chaos unfolded around you. One of the medical workers gently guided you out of the room, his voice a hushed reassurance, "He'll be fine." The door closed, separating you from your boyfriend, and you crumbled against the wall, sinking to the ground. Tears welled up in your eyes, tracing a path down your cheeks as the weight of uncertainty and fear pressed upon your heart. Miles' mother tenderly joined you, enveloping you in her embrace, her soothing words offering solace to both of you in this harrowing moment.

The words of your boyfriend echoed through your mind, a fragile strand of hope clinging to your thoughts.

"I'll be back home before you know it, I promise, ma"

I wait for you.

#across the spiderverse #miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales #prowler miles #prowler!miles #prowler!miles x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales prowler #miles morales x reader #atsv miles

[sinsandsuccubus]

Pregnancy Cravings - Meet The Harlow’s

Context: Peanut butter chicken?

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 700+

Warnings: n/a

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

                                          ☽ ☾

You hated being pregnant.

Hated it.

You felt like a blimp, considering your size and how far along you were. You were roughly between six to seven months, and at this point, you really wished that the little thing would just come on out.

Maybe a premature baby was okay.

Not only did the pregnancy come with a size change, but a clothing change. No longer were you able to fit into the crop tops and items you usually wore around your shared home with Jack. As much as you wanted to wear your old clothing, Jack made it a good point that by wearing them, you’d stretch out the material, which would ultimately ruin your wardrobe once returning back to your “normal” size.

At least you hoped that’s what would happen.

Pregnancy weight was not a good look on you, in your personal opinion, although Jack found you hella attractive.

“Mamas, you look good, I swear. As a matter of fact, I take that back, you look sexy. Do I have to dick you down to prove it?”

Needless to say, Jack kept his word.

Another thing about your pregnancy that made you raise a question was your cravings.

Sure, you had heard the many stories about the different combinations, peanut butter and pickles, boiled eggs with horseradish, but peanut butter chicken?

Peanut butter chicken. The same food combination you shamed Jack for when you both started dating and he was comfortable around you.

“Come on babe, don’t knock it til you try it, it’s really good.”

“Jack, that’s utterly disgusting. I could never eat that.”

Oh, how the turn tables.

You and Jack were currently laying in bed, your head laying on his chest while he drew patterns over your pregnant belly.

“What do you want to eat mamas? It’s almost lunchtime.”

“I don’t know baby. Nothing sounds good right now.”

“Chick Fil A?”

“Nope.”

“McDonald's?”

“Not that either.”

“Popeyes?”

“Hell no.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday. You were fuckin up those chicken wings and that dry ass biscuit.”

“Your dick’s gonna be dry if you don’t shut up.” You looked up at your husband whose eyes went wide, making a motion to zipper his mouth shut and throw away the key.

“You know… I actually have a craving for something really weird.” You looked up at Jack again, who’s mouth still mocked being zippered shut.

“Ohmygod, Jack, you can speak.” You smacked his arm, laughing as he gasped for air.

“Phew, I was running out of air.”

“Yeah, you mouth breather.”

“You love me though.” He spoke, kissing you on the forehead.

“I’ll love you even more if you make me peanut butter chicken with veggies please.” You spoke, smiling up at your husband.

“I remember there was a time you thought that was gross. Going as far as to say “That’s utterly disgusting. I could never eat that.”.”

“Yeah yeah, well, now I’m pregnant out the ass. And this pregnant momma wants her peanut butter chicken with veggies.” You gave him a stern look, to which he immediately hopped up from bed and saluted you.

“Yes ma’am.” You laughed as he disappeared out of the room, shaking your head at your goofy husband. You hoped your child would take after him, especially his personality. Just not his big head.

                                          ☽ ☾

To say you were hungry was an understatement. As soon as you sat down at the table, you dug into your food, moaning at the satisfaction from your tastebuds. Jack looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t you say a damn word.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, you used to shame me about my peanut butter chicken, and now you’re moaning like I just blew your back-“ The words silenced from his mouth as a fork whirled past his head, his eyes turning around to eye the utensil that clattered on the floor.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“It got you to shut up, didn’t it? Now, please get me another one so I can finish this delicious meal my beautiful husband cooked for me, whose dick I’ll be sucking later.” You spoke firmly, staring directly into Jack’s eyes.

He got up immediately, moving to pick up the fork from the floor and place it in the sink, grabbing a clean utensil from the drawer.

“If I had known that my peanut butter chicken would take you this far, I would have made it a long time ago for you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get your hopes up. I’ll probably hate it after giving birth.”

“Dang it.”

#jack harlow x reader #jack harlow #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow scenario #jack harlow fanfiction #meet the harlows

[tripleyeeet]

IN SHADES OF BLUE

PAIRINGS: Jotun! Loki Laufeyson & Female Reader

SUMMARY: Loki reveals to you the parts of himself he hates the most. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WORD COUNT: 3,061

A/N: Another fic from my previous account! A little rough around the edges but still a fave of mine so I thought I’d give it a quick edit and repost. :)

MASTERLIST

-

“What’s your favourite colour?” he asks, plain and simple —trivial almost— so much so that it makes you scrunch up your face; lips and nose contorting into an expression of disapproval that makes his eyes roll.

Under the silken sheets, your body ruined under his touch as his fingers trail patterns over the bareness of your hips and thighs, you don’t fully get why he’s asking. You’ve only just met; hours before, in the corner of the bar. He approached you and you reciprocated his interest and the rest was just boring old history, so why does he care what colours make you happy?

“I don’t know,” you say, even though you have an answer. Everybody does regardless of what they tell themselves because colours have meanings —representations, you decide, sitting there, watching as he pulls away and positions himself on his back. 

Despite your better judgment, when he moves you immediately crave his touch and the way his skin seems to cool your own, prompting you to follow him wordlessly, placing your chin on his chest. “How about you?”

“What about me?” He raises his brow and looks towards you, a small smile absentmindedly creeping across his lips.

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

Whatever yours is, he thinks, because truthfully he doesn’t care anymore. After everything he lost interest in caring for things that made him happy, because feelings like that don’t last and neither does beauty, so why would he stop to think and choose a favourite colour?

He doesn’t have time for that.

“I don’t think I have one.” It’s a poor excuse for an answer, both of you know it, which is why when you deeply sigh against his chest, the air from your lips fanning across his skin, he can’t help but swallow hard and look away, feeling almost guilty.

Which doesn’t make sense, because you’ve just met. Your opinion is nothing in the grand scheme of things, yet something in his chest pulls him to feel hurt by your response.  

“Everybody has one.” 

“I’m not sure that’s true.” 

“No?” 

He shakes his head and moves his hand to your hair, running his fingers through it. It’s softer than anything he’s ever felt, like silk. “You don’t, apparently.” 

You bite back a smirk, angling your face away from his, knowing that this is his way of calling your bluff.  “I mean, maybe I do,” you admit, feeling the pads of his fingers make work of your roots, their strength digging into your scalp so effortlessly that without even thinking you give in to the pressure and close your eyes.

“Tell me then.”

You hum in response and focus on the weight of his fingers and how languidly they move through the base of your head, pulling forth a sudden sense of lucidness that makes you grin. “I think I like blue.” 

“Blue,” he practically scoffs, because of course you like blue —everybody likes blue. It’s the colour of the sky and the ocean and all the other things so universally good that even just the thought of it makes him want to crawl out of this bed and wash the entirety of his body. 

Because while blue is known to be a colour of beauty, for Loki it’s merely just another layer of suffocation —a draping of fabric pulled taught against his increasingly brittle frame. Like all his other insecurities, he’s forced to be blue all hours of the day, forever beneath his usual coating of flesh. On the outside, he’s pale and soft to the touch —easily approachable. People like him when he’s not blue, they respect him and take notice of the way he is rather than what he looks like and it’s something he never takes for granted. 

Because deep within the pool of his mind, he often thinks about the difference between the blue he hides and the washed-out, creamy tone he portrays. How would people truly treat him if he were to get rid of the veil? Would they run for their lives as they did on Asgard? Would they hate him and fear him; talking behind his back in hushed tones, or would they direct their repulsion toward his face? 

As much as he hates to admit it, every day he wonders about this. When he’s staring into the mirror with his eyes shining red, he wonders if anyone could ever truly love him like this —with texturized cobalt that’s so cold and untouchable, just like the real him.

He doesn’t think that they could. 

“Do you not like blue?” 

Your voice shifts his thought process, pulling him out of the preverbal depths of his insecurities. Awkwardly he smiles and takes notice of the curiosity in your eyes, visually tracing the way your eyebrows furrow at his lack of response.

“Because everybody likes blue, at least to some degree,” you say after he fails to speak, turning your head so that your ear rests against the centre of his sternum, making it easier for you to hear his rapidly-paced heart. 

“Sure, I suppose.” He shrugs lightly, his shoulders lifting and falling at the same time his previously appointed smile becomes engulfed in the usual scowl he lets loose whenever he’s frustrated or uncomfortable. 

“But not you?” 

He shakes his head, prompting you to narrow your eyes even further, the visibility of your pupils becoming limited as you purse your lips and explore his tells. 

Because despite popular belief, Loki —God of Mischief and Lies— has many tells. Like everyone else, he’s vulnerable to the truth and all its revealing glory, leaving him anxious and overly critical of both his thoughts and movements as you continue to stare, taking in all the details.

Your eyes, much like his, scan everything with an air of caution, slowly moving across his nervous face, causing him to swallow hard and force himself to remain calm because as much as he denies it, moments like these often leave him feeling insecure. 

“Were you afraid of the Smurfs as a kid or something?” Revealing a smiling set of teeth that makes everything within him instantly halt, he’s quickly left with this coating of confusion, because it’s not common for people to make fun of him so flippantly. Or at all really, which is why when it happens he can’t help but laugh —but shake his head before giving in to the desire to lean over and kiss your forehead, trailing cold, chaste kisses across the expanse of your face. 

“No, I’m not afraid of cartoon characters,” he says, and with him you laugh and look up, noticing the back-and-forth look of absence in his eyes. There’s something empty about them as if their blackness isn’t black, but more so bleak —almost empty. Loki’s eyes are sad and lonely and as you look at them, narrowing your own, you can see the bright blue iris shrouded in red; long, lines of crimson that branch out across the white.

“We should sleep,” you say, but Loki just shakes his head again, taking the moment passing to release a deep breath and give your hair a few final run-throughs, his fingers working delicately through the knots that have formed. 

“I want to tell you something, if I may.” 

You’re not sure what he means, but you know it’s important because of the quiet tone of his voice. It’s innocent sounding, small and frail and barely falling from his lips, and immediately it worries you. Sends you into a state of shock that forces you to pull yourself off his chest and reposition in front of him, legs crossed underneath you. 

“What is it?” Swallowing hard, you feel the slick build-up of your anxiety trickle down your throat as you watch his hand reach for your own, each finger taking refuge between the empty spaces as he clears his throat and begins to tell you everything.

Asgard, Midgard, and everything in between —Loki entrusts with you the story of his family and the horror of his upbringing. He tells you of Thor (yes that Thor) and Frigga —of Odin and his kingdom and that fateful day in Jotunheim where Loki was discovered alone in the snow. Cautiously he tells you about his betrayal —his plan to claim the throne and then later, his plan to die. Every detail slipping through his lips is like a reclamation —a perilous journey of memories he’s chosen to take you alongside him as he recounts the details of his mother’s love, his brother’s arrogance, and inevitably his father’s lies.

Loki tells you anything and everything, taking each story and weighing it in his hands before offering it over, hoping that despite the brokenness —his brokenness— that you’ll still find some worth in it. 

Because Loki would be lying if he said he didn’t think of himself as worthless. All his life, even without the constant horror of his underlying blue skin, he’s never felt valued, only valuable. To Odin, he was merely a pawn in the diplomatic affairs of Jotunheim and to Thanos, he was deemed the same for having the Tesseract.

Which fucking sucks, you think, as you watch him rip open his chest and fish out the traumatized organ with tears in his eyes, desperately waiting for you to take it.

So you do. Without question you take it and put it in your hands, watching it pulsate in the base of your palm; the tainted blood of his past dripping down your flesh, coating your skin like syrup. 

Happily, you want to lap it up —want to look him in the eyes and lick his wounds; swallow them up and bury them deep inside your gut so that he never has to look at them again. 

More than anything you want to shield him from the pain and the suffering —want to show him love and support and make it known that just because the past was full of hurt, the future doesn’t have to be as well. 

“Thank-you for telling me.” 

You know he doesn’t need to be thanked —doesn’t need to be praised for telling a stranger the holy terrors of his upbringing. Loki’s a God, the maker of his own destiny, which is evident in the way he perseveres despite the odds constantly working against him. He’s resilient in his efforts, a strong player in whoever’s story he’s managed to become tangled in, which is something you’re not sure he knows because, to you, it seems like he tethers himself to other people. Playing them like fools in his never-ending game of tricks and trades, hoping one day that they’ll figure out how to hate him. 

Because if he can just get them to hate him, perhaps he can be free. Free of the unknown —free of the constant wondering of whether or not he’s worthy of another person’s love. 

Of course, he is, you think, but considering the circumstances, you know he doesn’t know that. 

“I’m not sure why I did, if I’m honest,” he says, staring at your hands, suddenly wishing that he too could experience the normalities of fleshy tones woven over heated insides instead of the icy structures within his own. 

“Strangers are often the best people to tell things to.” 

Raising his brow, he hums in response, hoping that you’ll explain.  

“We’re not tainted with the idea of you; we’re unbiased.” 

“Were unbiased,” he corrects, another scowl crawling across his face, showing you that he knows you’ll think less of him now that he’s told you. 

Which isn’t necessarily true. If anything, it’s almost the opposite; because his telling you, even if the story is tailored to benefit his own viewing, is still a step in the right direction. A step towards healing —towards trust. Because at this moment, Loki trusts you with the weight of his life. He sees you as someone worthy of his truth and that in itself is something you know you can’t take for granted as you pull your hand away from his. 

“Have you ever shown anyone?” Propping yourself onto your knees, you move to straddle his frame, feeling the base of his cock immediately twitch against you. “Your Jotun form, I mean.” 

“Only a select few.”

“Other lovers?” You smirk.

Smirking back, he shakes his head and repositions himself, moving to sit upright against the headboard of your bed, taking your hips in his hands. “Lovers want to love, not to run away in fear.” 

There’s a pause then —a lengthy one filled with nothing, but breathing and touching, Loki’s hands digging into the base of your flesh, desperately kneading themselves into the plush of your sides. Instantly you’re drawn to the feeling, your mind already thinking of a thousand ways to subdue the aching that suddenly presents itself between your thighs as you instinctively press yourself further against him.

“I won’t be like the rest of them,” you find yourself saying, the absence of breath throughout your chest making it hard for you to speak above a whisper. “I won’t fear you.”

“Fear me,” he sarcastically scoffs in response, gripping you tighter, almost as if the very thought of fear ignites something within him —something aggressive and primal. “It’s not the colour of my skin that makes them fear me, darling.” 

After that he slowly blinks, the colour of his eyes flickering from the lightest of blues to the deepest of reds, an image that makes you weak as you reach out to touch his face, realizing that his skin feels colder than before; rigid and rough, the presence of markings becoming visible across his forehead and cheekbones.

Purely out of habit you pull your hand away and narrow your eyes, inspecting the facial structures that continue to form, raising themselves higher off his skin at the same time his flesh begins to darken. All across him wild splotches of blue become present, their positions resembling freshly wet pavement on a rainy day. 

“You look…” Inhaling and exhaling before you can even finish, you quickly find yourself reaching across the empty space, prompting Loki to follow through soundlessly until your lips eventually meet in a frenzy of movements that leave you pulling at each other’s flesh. 

Groaning, Loki reaches for your hair and grips it as his lips messily glide from your mouth to your cheek, then to your chin, eventually ending at the side of your neck where he latches on. As he does you let out a soft moan, your lips widely parting at the feeling of his tongue pressing down against your flesh in between swift bites that leave your skin blooming with bruises. “I could ruin you, you know,” he whispers against them, the formation of his words across your wounds sending you over the edge as you feel him work to lift you onto his cock, holding you steadily against the head.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” 

Before you receive an answer he’s entering you with everything he has, his hardened flesh pushing through your heat in a chorus of throaty gasps as he rocks back and forth, feeling your weight shift as you lean backwards and reach for his thighs. 

Steadying yourself, you grip the tops of them with greedy hands, thumbing the patterns of newly unveiled blue as he repeats his movements, bucking into your wet cunt with a new kind of force that leaves you shaking and grinning because god he’s just so beautiful. 

His body, drenched in lapis, looking like the ocean itself, is stunning and radiant, ebbing and flowing against your Midgardian complexion as you lean forward and envelope his lips again, showing him that he’s worthy. 

He’s worthy and you’re willing and as he pistons into you, your inner walls aching for that last final snap of the band, you can’t help but tell him. Over and over with each passing wave of pleasure, you speak to him in praises, telling him repeatedly how amazing he is and how good he feels and how after everything he’s been through he deserves to feel loved. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Loki,” you tell him, even though you’d much prefer to tattoo it into his skin in shades of navy; a reminder that despite the green he often drapes himself in, blue is truly his colour. 

Opening his mouth to respond, he’s quickly met with your lips again, his words becoming lost behind your teeth and tongue as you swallow his pride and hate and everything that's ever needed to be pulled out of his system. Like a leech, you rip from him the worst parts of his being; the outward flesh that covers his Jotun form that’s been mistreated and left to suffer; the vile words of his father all those years ago; the abuse he experienced under the hands of Thanos. 

And with each new breath, Loki begins to better understand these efforts. Slowly but surely, his mind, once clouded with thoughts of angst and regret, begins to fill with something new entirely —something soft and warm that makes his stomach twist into knots as he fills you up further and further, the sounds of your wanton moans shrouding him in bliss.

At this moment, Loki’s engulfed in ecstasy. He’s elated and delighted; covered in a sense of euphoria he’s never felt before. Hopelessly, he wants to laugh and cry and scream —to take you as you are just as he is he, coated in blue like sapphires and the sky and little robin’s eggs in the spring.

Because right now he’s your favourite colour and he knows it. He knows it because everything to you that’s beautiful is blue and no longer is he the exception. In fact, Loki’s the rule now; an ever-present reminder of just how glorious your favourite colour can appear through the naked eye as it fucks into you, pushing you over the edge until you’re panting and gripping, and asking him to ruin you over and over again. 

He wants to ruin you forever if he can —if it feels like this— because the high he gets from being with you is intoxicating. It’s everything he never dreamed of and as he feels those final twitches press against your insides, he knows it’s all he’ll ever dream of now.

In shades of blue, he’ll dream of only you.  

-

TAGLIST: @lovelysizzlingbluebird​ (if you would like to be added to any of my taglists, fill out this form)

#in shades of blue #loki laufeyson fan fic #loki fan fic #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson smut #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #jotun loki x reader #jotun loki x you #jotun loki #jotun loki smut #summer writes

[leviismybby]

Seashell

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day everyone! ❤️ This is just a fluffy piece I wrote for Levi. The reader is a civilian :))

Levi stood in the cold water with his pants rolled up to his calves, searching for something down between the rocks and the sand. The skies were blue, the weather sunny providing him with just the right amount of light.

His grey eyes glanced over every single little rock that lay beneath the salt water. You told him last time about how much you would love to see the sea, how much you would love to travel with him to the coast one day.

And Levi can't give you that now, it's too risky to bring you out here with all the chaos going on. He doesn't get to see you a lot anymore so he uses every free day he has to make sure to visit you.

Valentine's day is approaching and he wants to give you something that will remind you of him any time you look at it, you told him that no present in the world can be more precious than his time but he still feels like he owns you at least something.

He can't thank you enough for loving him and always sticking by his side even when he tried to push you away from him.

Once his eyes land on a practically unusual object, he picks it up with his hand. It was a seashell, small but full of different colors and patterns.

Levi knew almost nothing about sea life but seeing the way Sasha and Mikasa seem to keep a lot of these in their tent, he assumes that you will like it too.

"That should do." He makes his way back to tents, putting the seashell in his pocket. He can't wait to see you.

---------------------------------------------------

You yawn as you put the wet shirt onto the drying string. A sound of horse steps reaches your ears and you turn around towards the gate, seeing your boyfriend with flowers under his arm.

As soon as he gets down from his horse, you immediately run to him, hugging him tightly and almost knocking him off his feet. "Woha easy there."

He wraps his arms around you while holding the flowers in one of them, and you bury your face in his neck, smelling the scent you missed so much.

Levi pulls away just enough so that he can plant a soft kiss on your lips as your fingers play with his hair. God, he has missed you so much. Levi will never say it but he didn't need to, you know.

When you finally pull away to catch some air, Levi gives you the flowers he brought. Of course, he has memorized what flowers were your favorite.

They weren't quite cheap either. You see Levi reach into the pocket of his green coat, pulling out a dark red box with a pink ribbon wrapped around it.

"Happy Valentine's Day love." You almost squeak as you take the box from his hands, excited to see what's inside. For someone who claims he isn't romantic, Levi surely is sweet.

You find a seashell inside, colorful with pretty patterns on it. You have never seen the sea up close but every time Levi tells you about it, you wish that you were there with him.

"Wow. It's pretty." Maybe you'll ask your father to make you a necklace out of it so that way you always have it with you.

"I found it myself. Spend two hours looking at the fucking ground." Snorting you press a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you for this, will you be staying the night?" Levi chuckles at the little spark in your eyes but he hates to ruin your hopes. "No. I have to be back in three hours."

"Well, at least you'll stay for dinner. Happy Valentine's Day Levi." Leaning back in you kiss him again, this time a little more passionately until you feel his horse huff next to you.

Laughing against each other's lips Levi pulls away. "Don't be jealous." You tell her, softly petting her head.

"She loves you more than she loves me. Anytime I come to visit you she already knows where we are heading." He pets his horse on the nose, a gentle smile approaches your lips.

"Good. She will let me know if my boyfriend visits anyone else." You love teasing him about such things because it gets on his nerves.

"Shut the fuck up." He kisses the top of your head before tying his horse to the fance as the two of you walk into your house.

---------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @the-milk-anon @youre-ackermine @sixpennydame @yakaaamoz @notgoodforlife @levisbrat25 @luvjiro @ackermendick @lovolee3 @laraackerman @levisgreyeyes

#levi #levi ackerman #aot levi #levi x reader #captain levi #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi fluff #levi fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi x reader fluff #levi aot #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot fluff

[addicted-to-dc]

Scorned - König x Assassin!Reader

(A/N) Always a sucker for spitfire assassin readers. 'Tis my weak spot. Anyways, this will contain gun use and descriptions, bullet wounds, violence, body horror, and amongst other things. Nothing too heavy for the first part. Slow burn, slight enemies to lovers. We shall see what the future holds, muahahaha. (2367 word count)

Of course, it had to be fucking Russia the 141 sent you to. Trust was something they’d never give you, not with your track record of running the second you saw a viable chance. Not this time. A severe winter storm obliterated every option you had. You hate being on their leash. If there’s two things you loved about your life before this, it was being rich and free. At least your rage is keeping you warm.

Teeth chattering, you lift your scope and finally spot your target. A warehouse in the middle of nowhere, apparently one of KorTac’s many weapons caches. The mission? Fucking sneak in and place cameras throughout the facility. That’s all they’re using you for, recon for something they’ll just blow up at the end of the day. A waste of your talents.

You itch for the hunt again, researching and observing everything about your target before finally taking them out. It’s not like you popped the heads of good people. All of them deserved it in the end.

“Got eyes on the warehouse. Going in…”

You wait a few seconds, unable to resist snarking back at the men who’re probably enjoying the heat of the base.

“…and go fuck yourselves. I better have a warm bath waiting for me after this.”

Silencing your comms, you pocket the scope and trudge up the snow. The snow boots they forced you to wear are clunky, something that would make sneaking around more difficult than it should be. It’s like they’re trying to kill you, which they most likely are.

Getting past the guards was too easy, quickly memorizing their patterns until you noticed an opening. Slipping through, the clunky boots are left behind and buried in the snow long before you enter. At least you were able to sneak in backups, much more lightweight and silent. Just the way you like it.

Your snake cam quickly slides underneath the door, confirming that it’s safe to enter. The door is unlocked… that’s the first strike. Your instincts tell you to get out of there, that the mission is already fucked, but you continue. Slipping in, you waste no time climbing to the rafters and place cameras. The unlocked door plagues your mind, something so small that KorTac would never allow to happen.

There are several exits you could use if your gut is right. A window, no, two windows and even a skylight, but even if you did manage to get out you would be stranded. The thought chills you to the bone. Was this a suicide mission? Would the ‘good guys’ really do that to you? Shaking the thought out of your head, you decide to save the last camera placement near the door. At least you’d be able to leave quickly.

Just as you place the second to last camera, the door opens. The cold air sends a chill down your spine, but the man you see walk in makes you freeze. He must be 7 feet tall. Fear finally settles in your bones. Hiding behind one of the metal beams, you shift out of his eyeline and regulate your breathing. You can’t lose your shit, not now. You sneak another peak at him and holy shit, he’s wearing a mask. It’s not cheesy like Ghost, the emo skull caricature ruining any intimidation tactics the man tried on you. No, it’s terrifying. The eye holes, a void of black in the lighting, feel like they’re staring right into your soul.

He moves to turn a corner and BAM!

You slam onto the ground before you know it, slamming on your side and  cracking your head on a crate. Your vision blurs, a possible concussion sealing your fate. God, you should be in the Caribbean right now getting your back blown out. This is such bullshit.

“Looks like a little birdy is nesting where she shouldn’t be.”

His voice is accented, possibly German. No, Austrian? It’s taunting, making your blood boil. Despite seeing three of him, you lift your pistol and aim at one of him, but he’s faster than he looks. The giant plucks the weapon from your hand and grabs you by the throat. As if you weigh nothing, he slams you into another crate, shattering the wood beneath you. Black spots dominate your vision, his eyes burning into yours.

Even while you’re clawing at his hand, he rips your mask off with ease. You try to suck in another breath, but it’s in vain. This is it. You’re dying. The dream of retiring and dying of old age is dead, just like you…

Air. You have air? Greedily filling up your lungs, you wheeze and gasp as you’re flung over a shoulder. Something painfully digs into your stomach, nearly making you lose your breath again, but the cold is enough to kickstart your body. You begin to struggle, but a harsh squeeze to your shoulder wound makes you freeze. Fuck, this giant really did a number on you.

Mr. Tall, dark, and horrifying shoves you into a vehicle, shouting something at the driver. The car lurches forward immediately. Your head nearly slams into the window from the force, but you’re pulled close to a warm body. A knife appears in your vision, your unfocused eyes unable to track it as your clothing is cut away. You move to push him away, but the knife moves to your throat.

The overhead light in the car finally lets you see his eyes, deep blue orbs paralyzing you instantly. Satisfied with your reaction, he finishes cutting through your clothes and applies pressure to your wound. Hissing, your eyes flutter shut, but you’re not even allowed the sweet peace of unconsciousness.

“Eyes open.”

A bump in the road sends pain straight down your spine, waking you enough to keep your eyes open. The giant, who is hunching in the vehicle, starts dressing your wound. The sight nearly makes you laugh. Maybe it does. His eyes move from your wound back to you. It makes you want to shrink away, but the fucked-up part of your brain is enjoying this. You missed working with mercs, at least they knew how to have a good time. A good time sounds good right now.

Everything’s a blur, you barely register leaving the vehicle, let alone the gurney trip through a hallway of blinding lights. Multiple figures pull you forward, slamming through door after door until you reach your destination. They stop so fast you nearly vomit, the whiplash too overwhelming. Too many pairs of hands tear at you, stripping your equipment and cutting through any cloth in the way.

“Sir, the resources we’re using for her-”

Heavy footsteps interrupt the doctor’s words, the room growing dead silent. “She’s worth more alive, unbroken. Do not make me repeat myself again.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Your mouth is dry, why the hell is it dry? Shifting in the bed, the blanket scratches at your exposed skin. The new angle shines a bright ass light in your face. It forces you to shift again, a sigh escaping your lips. That’s when you hear it: a beep. Frowning, your eyes refuse to open until you blink quickly. Flashes of a bright, barren room fill your senses. A hospital?

That’s when it hits you. Oh. Shit. There’s a creak next to you, and that’s when you see him. The giant that subdued you quicker than the 141 did, and that was the whole lot of them. You both stare at each other for a ridiculous amount of time, until he shifts, and your heart rate jumps at the movement. His eyes remain on you, barely blinking.

“You’ve been out for a while,” he remarks, standing up.

He grasps a cup of water, comically small in his hand, and offers it to you. You take it, eyes flicking down to inspect the water before finally taking a sip. God, it feels like heaven. Before you know it, the entire cup is empty. How long were you out?

“Why didn’t you kill me?” you ask, cringing at your own voice. Damn, you sound like you smoked one too many cigs.

“I did not spend months of planning just to kill you, Schatz,” he responds, folding his arms. “After the 141 intercepted our contact, it was my priority to get you back.”

“So, you rescued me?” No one has ever done that for you before. Being used is all you’ve ever known, paid or unpaid. It was you who had to prioritize yourself. “Why?”

“You are not an instrument of death; you use death as an art form.” Who knew he was such a poet? “Apologies for the wounds, I had to convince them we’d kill you.”

“How long was I out for?” Rotating your shoulder, you feel no pain from your bullet wound.

“A month… and there’s something else. The men who had you, the 141, yes?”

You nod, waiting for him to elaborate.

“We found a tag in your arm.”

That makes you sick to your stomach. A tracker? They tagged you like a fucking dog. You played their stupid game, did everything they asked so you could earn their freedom. Your nails dig into the sheets, tearing the fabric from the force of it.

Your eyes flick up to his. “You said something about a contract. What is it?”

Something flashes in his eyes, his head tilting upwards. Is he smiling? “You haven’t lost your fire yet.”

Grumbling, you start stretching your limbs. Like hell you’re going to stay in this bed any longer. Your limbs pop more than you want them to, but at least your body is not as run down as you expected it to be. The routine goes by quickly, and you finally, cautiously, stand up. You wobble slightly, but you’re able to recover.

Your eyes shoot at the mirror in the bathroom, sadness overwhelming you. Shit is what you look like. Your colored hair is long faded, replaced by a dull, washed-out color of blah. Gritting your teeth, you turn to the man who kidnapped you. Technically freed you, but you still have no idea what this giant wants.

“You still haven’t answered my question, big guy,” you huff, immediately snagging the spare clothes next to you. You run through the previous conversation through your head again, trying to get any information out of this gargantuan man.

You slide on the pants, thankfully it’s easier with the shitty hospital gown. Unfolding the shirt, you nearly cry when you see a sports bra fall out of it. God, it’s even your size.

“We will need you for future missions.”

You finish sliding on the bra, freezing. “Missions?”

“Ja. We will discuss a contract, something beneficial to both of us. You and I will be equals in this.”

Tearing off the gown, you pull your shirt over your head. You turn around, sliding your arms through the sleeves with a frown. “And I have a choice?”

“Of course.”

It’s so damn hard to read him with his entire face obscured. At least with Ghost you could cheat a little bit. Masks suck the fun out of everything. “What about living arrangements?”

“Since you are AWOL, soon KIA, I would prefer it if you remained here. There’s a room prepared for you.”

That’s nice of them, but how long until you go crazy in a new cage. You highly doubt they’ll just let you walk out the door, but there must be more to this. He’s got to sweeten the deal.

“The pay?”

“You will find it more generous than your usual prices,” he responds, taking a few steps towards the door. Damn he’s got some legs. Your eyes drift towards his backside. Nice ass, too.

You really need to be spayed. Forcing your eyes upwards, you follow him through the building. Your socked feet are silent compared to his heavy boot steps, but the noise grounds you enough. It allows your mind to wander, this whole situation forcing you to think about how you got here.

You aren’t military, special forces, not even a cop. No, you were a nobody who was willing to do anything to stand up for the little guys. Getting the weapons wasn’t that hard, but training yourself? Being self-taught is what made your skills sought out, always unexpected and untraceable. You made your own rules, picking up a few things whilst you traveled. It’s funny, a life of death and crime let you shed your shell. How things have changed.

You’re in the room before you realize it, your mind wandering too close to memory lane. It’s sparsely decorated, screaming military and barf beige, but it’s all you have. The guns mounted on the walls catch your attention immediately. A gasp leaves your lips before you can help it, gently removing your sniper from its mount.

“Where did you find this? Never thought I’d see this again,” you whisper, immediately falling into your routine of checking it for damages.

“We were too late to prevent your capture,” he replies, watching you, “but we recovered everything they didn’t bother taking.”

Your jaw clenches at the thought of them taking you. Wordlessly, you place it back on its mount. Your hand lingers on it for a few moments, your fingers sliding down in now resistance. “I didn’t wipe my slate clean just to be immediately kidnapped. There was a rat, and not just the one they squeezed my information out of.”

Rage enflames your entire being. Revenge would be a good hobby for you, something to get your strength back. You’re itching for something up close and personal. Almost as if the giant could read your thoughts, he places a file onto the desk. Where was he keeping that? Goddamn you really need to start paying attention.

“We’ve identified a previous client… your first…”

You sift through the information. What information is available on you is enough to fuck you over. She gave them your legal name, history… everything. Your throat tightens at the photo of her, someone you considered a friend. Past tense. She’s on your hit list, bumped up to priority number one. The 141 will have to wait.

#konig x reader #cod x reader #konig x you #konig x fem!reader #konig x assassin!reader #scorned #konig x female reader

[snwusberry]

cry for love

pairing: yeonjun x reader x wooyoung

genre: angst, fluff (if you squint real hard)

warning(s): language, food/eating, alcohol consumption, intoxication, a lot of crying, toxicity (yeonjun is a lil toxic ngl), trust issues, cheating mentioned but no one actually did, a lot of tears. love square my dudes. pov changes (sorry). there are many errors. i will try and fix them as soon as possible.

wc: 7k

notes: this is by far my longest fanfic (i had to bust out my laptop for this one) and i'm not gonna lie, for someone with a short attention span, this was quite difficult to write but i wanted to step out of my comfort zone so here it is. i hope you all enjoy this one

playlist:

cry for love - baekhyun

movies - conan gray

the cut that always bleeds - conan gray

like i need you - keshi

i don't - sabrina claudio

bleeding love - leona lewis

reader pov

"this is the third time in a row now yeonjun. how many times is she gonna rock up at your apartment drunk?" i ask him, looking at the sleeping girl on the sofa. she’s a little too at peace for someone whos ruining my night right now.

"she comes here because she's most familiar with me. who else is supposed to help her?" yeonjun defends and i roll my eyes, not having any of it. this not the first time this is happening.

"her other friends. it's funny how she's got other friends, isn't it?" i sarcastically remark but he just returns a stern look.

"quiet down, you're gonna wake her up." i raise my eyebrows at the sheer audacity.

"have her sleep somewhere else then. i don’t know, call someone to pick her up and look after her. you're not doing none of that tonight." i tell him.

it's tiring how much this happens. she always does this. she comes up with something whenever she knows yeonjun and i will be together that day, like right now. she appeared drunk on yeonjun's doorstep on the day we decided to spend time together.

"please be serious right now."

"i am being serious. she's not spending the night here." i fight back, trying to stand my ground but i'm afraid i'm fighting a losing battle.

"this is my apartment y/n, not yours. i think that i should be the one to make that decision, no? stop bitching about it." he responds coldly with an unreadable expression on his face. there's a look in his eyes i've never seen before.

"okay then i'll leave."

his eyes soften upon hearing my tone of voice indicating that i am, in fact, upset.

"i didn't mean that." he tries to hold my hand to stop me from leaving but i pull away, getting my things to leave.

"then what the fuck did you mean?" i ask him turning to face him but he just stares, not saying anything. “you said what you said. call me when you drop this act of yours."

once the cool air outside the giant apartment building hits me, i let out a sigh, frustrated by all this. he really said that to me with a straight face and thinks he can just take it back all willy nilly? unbelievable.

i send a text to the person who's been helping me through this somewhat confusing moment in my relationship.

me:

are you busy?

i get a text back fairly quickly, i don't even need to read it to know he's not busy and judging by his patterns, he wouldn't have responded so quickly had he been occupied.

woo:

no

i make my way down the familiar road to one of my best friends' apartments. i've been here many times before but now i feel bad for even thinking about going there because i feel like as of late, i've just been there to complain.

"oh y/n. come in." he ushers me inside his warm apartment.

i make my way in and he walks me to the kitchen where i sit by the small island.

"let me guess, the name starts with m?" he asks, preparing some tea for both of us. i nod but the tears start to fall. i fucking hate when my anger turns to tears because it makes me feel weak. "that's not all, is it?" i shake my head and he walks around the island to pull me into a hug.

---

i sit on the sofa with a cup of tea in my hands. wooyoung sits next to me listening to everything i'm saying while i rant about what happened with yeonjun.

"that's messed up like how many times is she gonna show up drunk at his door?" wooyoung asks, outraged at the audacity of this girl.

"that's literally what i said to him. i told him she couldn't have gone to anyone else and you know what he said? he said 'she's most familiar with me. who else with her?' can you believe this guy?" i rhetorically ask, taking a sip from the cup. "and then i said to him that she's not spending the night and i kid you not, something in him just switched. he was like 'that's not your decision to make' but like, the way he said it... it was so unlike him. it's like i was talking to a whole different man."

"if this continues its gonna be a problem." wooyoung warns me cautiously.

"i know. i don't like where this is going."

---

i wake up, sitting up to look around, realizing i crashed at wooyoung's place. everything from last night coming back to me. i remember how yeonjun acted, that i cried and now i'm here.

"ahhh." i groan throwing myself back on the bed. how long is this going to go on for?

"rise and shine." wooyoung calls out a little too chipper. he enters the room and i glare at him. "what's with that face? come on i made you breakfast."

"you didn't have to."

"you say that all the time and yet here we are. come on grumpy." he says, pulling me out of bed.

"i'm not grumpy." i mumble with a pout.

"say again."

"nothing."

"thought so."

he makes me sit down at the kitchen table where the table is set with my favourite breakfast. i thank him, sitting down.

"don't be shy."

i smile at him, immediately digging in.

"slow down. the food isn’t running away." he warns and i apologize briefly.

my phone starts ringing and i check to see who it is but my smile falters and wooyoung looks at me worried.

"who is it?"

"yeonjun."

his face falls at my answer, as if a happy moment was ruined.

"answer."

i nod, answering his call but i take a moment before saying anything.

"babe?"

"hello."

"baby, please come over, or rather, i'm coming over-" his voice sounds hasty, his breathing choppy, as if he ran a marathon.

i look at wooyoung for a second with hesitance and he's just minding his own business but the look on his face shows he's upset.

"don't bother." i tell him bluntly. i'm still not over last night so let me be petty today.

"why? is everything alright?"

"i'm not home." wooyoung looks up and shakes his head making me sigh. "look, i'll be right there. just make sure your friend is not there once i arrive."

"come on y/n not this again."

"i'm serious yeonjun." i hang up before throwing my phone on the table. letting out a sigh in frustration because i don't want to go to him right now. he could at least let me enjoy my morning.

"go on." is all wooyoung says before standing up and clearing up the dishes to wash them. his mood has clearly drastically different now.

"wooyoung-"

"go talk to him. you can't leave these things unresolved like this. go talk to him and sort this mess out."

"but wooyoung."

"no, not another word. besides you can always come back once you're done." he suggests so i just agree.

"okay."

i walk out, calling an uber to yeonjun's apartment building, deciding not to walk there.

i make my way to the elevator where i see mara walking out. i try to avoid her, not wanting to even talk to her because it will just ruin my mood completely.

"oh? look who it is."

dammit.

i put on my fakest smile, turning to face her. "hi mara."

"going to yeonjun's?" she asks and i fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"no i'm here to see soobin. haven't seen him in a while." i respond sarcastically.

"soobin is in the states."

wow i had no idea.

"great then who else could i possibly be here for?" i ask her in the most real yet fake questioning tone.

"why don't you just give up already? no matter how hard you try, yeonjun will always pick me over you anyway." she smugly remarks and i roll my eyes.

"is that why you he asked you to leave for me to come see him at my request, might i add. i wouldn’t be proud to be a choice sweetie." the elevator door opens once again and i get in, waving at her as the doors close.

something inside me is restless though because deep down i have a feeling that she might be right. he's chosen her over me multiple times so i'm afraid she's right.

once i reach his floor, i walk to his door and knock, hearing shuffling before the door opens.

"you didn't have to knock you know. i'd know it's you." he says blankly and i roll my eyes.

"yeah well then i guess we both acting different."

"babe- wait, those are last nights clothes." he looks at me suspiciously and i raise my eyebrows.

"i'm aware."

"then where were you so early in the morning? you said you didn't go home last night?" he questions.

"why do you care?"

"because you're my girlfriend, of course i care, y/n be serious please." i scoff at his words. at this point, i feel like he thinks i’m a joke because he always says that to me.

"i am being serious. you haven't been treating me like i'm your girlfriend so i don't see what's wrong with my question."

"what are you even saying? and where did you go last night then?"

"oh now you're questioning me? you called me over to talk so tell me what you needed to so i can go."

his eyebrows furrow as he looks at me confused.

"i wanted to spend time with you since our date last night was ruined." he says softly.

"and who ruined it?"

"don't start. just please tell me where you wer-"

"wooyoung's place."

his face drops to an expressionless one and he just looks at me.

"why the long face now all of a sudden? what's wrong?"

"you get mad at me for having mara over but it’s okay for you to spend the night at wooyoung's place? how is that fair? besides, i only went there because of you."

"because of me?" he questions and i nod. "why? tell me."

"because he's the one who was able to give me comfort after the way you spoke to me. you chose to let mara crash our date for the nth time." he remains silent. "what now? much like you were there for mara, wooyoung did the same for me."

"was it to spite me?” he asks me and i scoff.

“not everything is about you jun.”

“i don't want you going near him anymore. if you have a problem you come to me." i scoff, rolling my eyes at what he just said what does he think this is?

he has to be joking. he is joking right?

"and if you are the problem?"

he looks at me confused with his head tilted trying to figure out what i meant.

"what do you even mean?"

"i mean that you, choi yeonjun, are the problem in this scenario." i tell him and try to walk out but he grabs my wrist.

"let go."

"not until we resolve this."

i sigh to myself knowing he's right. we need to actually talk about this or it will just get out of control.

"come sit down." he gently speaks walking with me to the living room.

"y/n please tell me what's wrong." he asks once we've sat down. we're facing each other while he holds both of my hands in his, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs.

"mara and how you are around her."

he let's one of my hands go to run his hand through his hair, an irritated expression making its way on his face.

"you always act different when she's around."

"why are you always bringing her into this?"

"she's getting in the middle of us." i tell him and he rolls his eyes.

"baby she's my best friend, that's all."

"and she likes you."

"don't talk shit."

he thinks i'm talking nonsense? it's clear as day that she has feelings for him and it frustrating that he can't see it but him talking to me like this? absolutely not.

"i'm telling the truth. tell me, how come she always has an emergency whenever we're together?"

"i don't know. look it's not right to blame someone else for this. do you not trust me?"

"of course i do! if i didn't trust you, i wouldn't have left the two of you alone together and i would’ve questioned you the way you just did when i walked in. i just want you to see what's really going on here."

"y/n." he reaches for my hand again to hold it. "whether she likes me or not, that shouldn't matter anyway. i love you and only you and that won't change."

"then why do you always choose to be with her instead?" i ask him and he tenses.

"what?"

"you always choose her. whenever it comes down to it, it's always gonna be her. she even said it herself in the lobby and i told her off but i knew deep down that she’s actually telling the truth."

"y/n."

"like last night, for example. she showed up and you stopped our plans to go help her even though there are many other people she could've ran to, then when i walked out, you did nothing."

"this is ridiculous."

"you are being ridiculous, yeonjun. you don't wanna see what's right in front of you."

"are you jealous of her or something? babe i tell you time and time again that she's just a friend!" he raised his voice at me and i pull my hands away from him.

"oh i'm jealous... that's what it is, right? i'm jealous because my boyfriend is making time for someone else. i’m jealous because my boyfriend let's me leave to spend the night with another girl. is that what you're saying?" i question, standing up, ready to leave.

"stop talking, you're making it seem like something it's not. besides you have no right getting upset since you spend all your time with wooyoung anyway."

"BECAUSE HE AT LEAST HAS TIME FOR ME! it's selfish, yes but he has time for me when you are too busy giving all of yours to someone else!"

"are you that hungry for attention that you're too busy looking for it elsewhere?"

"fuck you yeonjun." with that i walk out and go straight back to wooyoung's apartment.

---

there is a movie playing but it's just background noise at this point because my thoughts are running wild.

i found myself staying at wooyoung's apartment for the past 3 days since my argument with yeonjun.

he let me stay here and he's been nothing but accommodating and i feel like i'm taking advantage of his kindness which is the last thing i want to do.

"wooyoung."

"hmm?"

"thank you." is all i say and he sits up from his seat.

"for what?" he asks, not knowing where all of this is coming from.

"thank you." i repeat, feeling a burning sensation in my eyes.

"y/n." i look down and he moves to the loveseat i'm sitting on. he sees the tears forming on my eyes and immediately hugs me. "what did he say to you?"

i can't answer, the words are stuck in my throat and i couldn't answer him.

"it's okay. it'll be okay."

"i don't think it will." he stops patting my back for a second before continuing.

"don't be like this y/n. he’ll open his eyes eventually."

"i'm afraid it will be too late by then." i say sadly, more to myself than anything but i said it too loud because wooyoung heard.

he pulls away to take a brief look at me.

"what do you mean by that?"

"i'm reaching my limit here."

"don't make any hasty decisions."

"i'm not wooyoung. i love him, i really do, but if loving him is only going to get me feeling like this then it's really not worth it."

"y/n-"

"it's tiring." i tell him letting more tears fall at the thought of possibly ending my relationship with yeonjun.

"whatever you choose to do, i'll be right by your side." he softly tells me with eyes filled with sorrow as he watches me cry. "and if he doesn't appreciate you someone else definitely will. you're a sweet girl who deserves only the best and it kills me to see that that's not what you're getting."

he makes me look in his eyes and mouths something that i couldn't quite catch what he said. he wipes away my tears with this tumbs, all while keeping eye contact with me.

"someone will treat you better y/n." he whispers, letting out a sigh before looking away. "come on, let's do something that'll get your mind off him." he suggests. i don't know what he means by that.

"sure."

"alright, follow me." he takes my hand and takes me to his room, further confusing me.

"wooyoung?"

"shhh." he rummages through his closet and get a long sleeve shirt, handing it to me. "wear this."

"what's this for?" i ask, looking at him.

"just wear it. there's a method behind my madness."

i just shrug and put it on over my tank top and we walk out.

---

"a rage room?"

"why not?" he asks, shrugging his shoulders before we both walk in and book a session.

the lady explains the rules to us and before i know it, i'm breaking everything around me with out a care in the world. i'm imagining mara’s face before hitting something which really helps get the aggression out.

"FUCK! YOU! CHOI! YEONJUN!" i scream while breaking the things around me. "AND FUCK THAT MARA BITCH TOO!"

wooyoung just looks at me with a wide smile which is still visible through the protective gear.

once our session is over he takes us both to go eat some street food and i feel calm after all that.

"you know, i needed that." i breath out in content.

"yeah?"

"yeah. is it concerning to feel better after imagining someone's face over an object before hitting it to oblivion?" he laughs making me smile a bit, not thinking what i said was gonna be funny but go figure.

"it's not hard to imagine someone's face over something you're gonna throw at a wall."

"who's face were you imagining?" i ask him, turning to face him on the bench.

"the one who made you cry." i stop eating briefly at what he said.

"not too much bow, he's still your best friend."

"that doesn't excuse his shitty behavior." he sing-songs before taking a bite from his food.

"still." i try to grap a fry from his box while he’s not looking but he staws my hand away before i can even get far.

"hey."

"you have your own."

"had my own." i frown showing him the empty box.

"ask next time. here." he says giving me some and i smile, thanking him.

"the weather is so nice today."

"not with that fucking vanilla talk."

"last time i try to create conversation." we laugh together, looking at the sun setting.

i feel a lot better now after going to the rage room and taking out all of my frustration.

"ready to go home?" he asks once we're done.

"can we go to your place?"

"and what will your boyfriend think of that?" he asks teasingly.

"he won't like it but i spent the last two nights at yours so what's another night?"

"i don't want him to freak out on us for that. come i'll take you home."

"please wooyoung. i don't wanna be alone tonight."

"then call yeonjun. i think you both need to sit and talk with a clear mind.”

"we tried that already, remember?"

"try again." he urges and i sigh, taking my phone and dialing his number. it rings but he doesn't pick up.

"voicemail, see he’s still mad. let's go."

“y/n” he warns and i sigh, giving in, deciding not to make this an even bigger deal.

once i get home and wooyoung has left i lay in bed, listening to the music playing on the speaker.

yeonjun and i have been together for 3 years now and we've never gone through something like this nor have i ever considered the possibility of breaking up with him so how did we get this far?

i pick up my phone to text him. i just wanna see something.

me:

yeonjun please come over quick!!

please.

something happened!!

i put my phone down to see if he will even respond.

"in my head we never grow apart. in my head you never break my heart. but we know that's not what we're doing. 'cause baby this not like the movies." i sing along softly letting a tear fall hearing no notification go off on my phone. this is exactly why i didn't wanna be alone tonight.

---

wooyoung's pov

i sit with san in his apartment just relaxing, catching up, all that fun stuff. it's been quite a while since we actually got to just hang out and talk but right now i just wish more than anything that he'd shut up or change the topic because he is driving me insane.

"i say be selfish." he finally says with a shrug to finish off his little rant.

"what do you mean by that?" i ask him, narrowing my eyes at his final statement.

"look, yeonjun is being a complete dick right now and who does she run to afterwards?"

"me?"

"bingo." he smiles, taking a sip from his can of beer.

"i'm not picking up what you're putting down."

"she goes to you for comfort and you treat her the way her boyfriend is supposed to. be selfish and let them break up. i mean, why are you even trying to help save a dying relationship?"

"because i respect both of them and their relationship. besides, that's just taking advantage of her vulnerability you ass."

sometimes he doesn't think past the present.

"and its not like she'd ever look at me that way. no matter what the state of her relationship with yeonjun is, she will still love him regardless." i tell him sadly. she's deeply in love with him and it hurts me so much because it's not certain if he shares the same sentiment anymore and i'm just here waiting to give her the love she deserves.

my phone rings and i pick up without checking who's calling.

"hello."

"jung wooyoung."

speak of the devil.

"y/n."

"wooyoung are you home?"

her words are slurred and my worry spikes. she's drunk in broad daylight. it's never a good sign.

"JUNG WOOYOUNG!"

i hear her starting to cry judging by the feint sniffing on the ither side.

"are you also tired of me now too?"

"where are you?"

"don't worry if you're busy right now. i don't wanna bother you." she hiccups, before yawning loudly.

"you're not. please tell me where you are."

"the streets." she laughs hysterically before catching her breath. "i'm outside yeonjun's apartment building."

her voice wavers when she says that and my heart sinks. what did that asshole do to her this time?

"i'm coming there okay. don't go anywhere."

i hang up, ready to get my keys.

"where are you running off to?" san questions with a raised eyebrow.

"to pick y/n up. she's not doing too good."

"let me come with."

"okay let's go."

once we get to the complex i see y/n sitting on the ground looking out of it.

"holy shit." i hear san whisper as we run to her and get her off the floor.

"wooyoung?" she smiles widely it doesn’t reach her eyes. she looks a mess with swollen eyes and tears still running down her cheeks. i feel terrible.

"if she can show up drunk at his door then why can't i? why am i not allowed to go to him all vulnerable like she does? i'm his girlfriend, not her!" she starts shouting out of nowhere which draws attention from a couple of people around us.

this isn't fair anymore. if he's gonna keep pushing her around like this he might as well just end this relationship instead of continuously making her feel like absolute shit.

"why doesn't he love me anymore wooyoung? why? why don't you love me anymore yeonjun?! what did i do?" she starts yelling, properly sobbing now, hitting my chest while she speaks.

"get lost." san says, probably talking to someone who is probably staring. i need to get her away from these people looking at her weirdly.

i take her to the car, getting in the back with her so she can sit comfortably.

"what did he do?" i ask her once she’s seated comfortably.

"he kicked me out because that bitch was there. she probably called him crying or some shit but i'm crying too." she points to herself, choking on her tears. "YEONJUN SEE I'M CRYING TOO!" she shouts to no one. i close my eyes, letting tears of my own fall. i haven’t seen her like this before. 'aww, look, you woke up poor mara who’s sad and going through things, and she’s sad and not doing too well.' it's always about poor sad mara! you know, he called me an attention seeker the other day? an attention seeker for wanting the bare minimum from my boyfriend. he's with that girl so much, he might as well be her boyfriend and not mine right?" she humorlessly laughs. "and then he had the audacity to tell me i can't be around you anymore. who does he think he is?”

did he seriously tell her she can’t be around me anymore? but then he continues to act the way he does. if y/n can't confide in me or him then who else is she supposed to run to?

“he's not mine anymore wooyoung. i think i've lost him."

i shake my head as she cries in my shoulder.

where did it all go wrong? i mean, he's never been like this before so what now? why is he acting differently now?

"enough is enough. san, please take her home and take care of her. make sure she drinks water and sobers up. i'll be there soon." i tell san who's in the passenger seat and he nods.

"san is here? hi san." she smiles widely, waving in no particular direction.

i give him the keys and wait for him to drive off before heading to yeonjun's apartment, knocking on the door and i wait for him to open. he's got a look of surprise written in his face.

"wooyoung? what are you doing here?" he asks and i shrug. "come in."

i walk in seeing another pair of shoes already there. he offers me a drink which i decline.

"is mara here?" i ask and he nods. "yeah, she's asleep in the room."

"i see."

what's gotten into him? he used to be the most attentive person when it came to y/n so what changed?

"what on earth do you think you're doing?" i ask him.

"sorry?" he asks me, completely dumbfounded by my sudden question.

"do you think what you're doing is right?"

"what's this all about?" he questions, clearly not expecting me to start asking him questions.

"mara is here sleeping am i right?" he nods. "and where is y/n, if you don't mind me asking."

"i sent her home. she came here, caused a scene and started drunkenly shouting so i sent her home because she could've woke mara up." i wanna strangle him so bad right now but i just scoff, deciding to choose peace.

"doesn't it concern you that she's coming to you drunk at 3 in the afternoon?" i ask him but it seems like i'm talking to a brick wall.

"what?"

"you're so dense."

"look, if you came here to do the same then you can go see yourself out."

"do you understand the shit you're putting y/n through?"

"don't involve yourself, this is between y/n and i." he warns but i'm not backing down. he either does something to fix this or he breaks up with her and he's deciding that today. i don't care anymore.

"no, its between you, y/n and mara so i will involve myself too. y/n has been crying non stop for days now because of you and your inability to see what mara is actually doing here."

"she didn't do anything. y/n clearly doesn't trust me to be around her so she's obviously gonna wanna cause a scene."

i raise my eyebrows at his bold choice of words. so he defends her by belittling his own girlfriend... it's bewildering to me.

"you're unbelievable. through all of this, when has she ever accused you of cheating with mara?" he remains silent. what else can he say? there's no way to defend the way he's acting right now and i will call him out for it. "she does trust you asshole, all she wants from you is for you to not blow her off because mara needs you. she needs you too yeonjun."

i'm saying all of this but a small part of me hopes he stays stubborn like this and they break up. san is right, it is selfish but i wanna be there for y/n the way yeonjun is failing to. she deserves so much more than this and that's what i wanna give her but then again.

but there's a small part of me that know i still don't have a chance anyway. she doesn't see me that way and that's the only reason i'm here trying to help save tis relationship. even if it hurts me in the end.

"i'm with her all the time." he defends and i scoff. there's no way he's actually being serious right now.

"that's bullshit and we both know it. when was the last time you two actually spent quality time together?"

"two weeks ago and then she walked out."

"without interruptions." i clarify and yeonjun's face drops. i don't know what he's thinking right now but he better be realizing his mistakes.

"you called her an attention seeker for wanting to be with her boyfriend who's too busy with another girl."

"you're making it sound like something it isn't."

"well how am i supposed to know what actually goes down when the two of you are alone together."

that hits a nerve because he yells for me to shut up and i just smile at his reaction.

"don't you ever accuse me of such things EVER. i love y/n way too much to even think about doing that to her so who are you to even question me on that? besides, you're the last one to talk."

"excuse me?"

don't act like you're not always with her. who knows what you two are doing behind my back?" he asks and i raise my eyebrows. someone needs to be here to slap some sense into him because he's genuinely lost it. if he loves her so much then why is he acting like this.

"that's how much you trust her and i? you know, she's never questioned you about mara. you say love her but you don't trust her? is that it yeonjun? and you have the audacity to say you love her then why don't you fucking show it? she sat outside this very building for who knows how long crying her eyes out asking why you don't love her anymore. she asked why mara can come to you in that very state but she can't and she's your girlfriend, no less. you know what else she said? she said she thinks  she's lost you. she said you're not hers anymore. are you hearing me? she's giving up on you and she’s giving up on trying to singlehandedly save your relationship." i tell him while he looks at me with tears forming in his eyes.

oh now he's listening...

"you know, she's told me before that she's thinking of breaking up with you because loving you is hard and she doesn't think it's worth all this pain it’s giving her."

"she said that?" he asks and i nod.

"i'm gonna give you an ultimatum. it's y/n or mara."

"quit playing wooyoung."

"i'm not. either choose mara and end it with y/n and i will personally make sure it ends or choose y/n and stop being friends with mara."

"why? you hoping i choose mara so that she can run into your arms?" he asks rhetorically but that question has an answer already.

"yes i am, actually. she's already doing that, isn't she?"

"you son of a bitch. i always knew you had feelings for her. if you ever say shit like that to me it won't end well."

"look, i was never even trying to hide it. she only runs to me after you treat her like trash. she doesn't see me like that and you know that. that's why i'm here right now. because no matter what my feelings for her are, you’re the  one she thinks about. you're all she talks about. i know i don't have a chance otherwise you two would've broken up the moment she came to me the first time crying because of you. make a choice yeonjun." i say before walking away.

---

reader's pov

headache. a fucking headache is the last thing i need right now.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"how are you feeling?"

i open my eyes to see san standing by the door with a mug in hand.

"horrible. why did i do all that?"

"i made some tea for you." he hands me the cup and i thank him, taking a sip a little too quickly because i burnt my tongue. "easy now."

"sorry."

"what happened yesterday?" he asks sitting down on the edge of the bed next to me.

"where do i even start?"

"ladies and gentlemen. sorry i have a little announcement. attention everyone." i slur out to everyone who's around me in the bar. it's more on the secluded part of the club so i can get away with making a little announcement. i just need these people to listen.

"ma'am, get down from there." a man who's sitting at the bar tries to help me down but i haven't said what i needed to yet.

"hold on i need to tell everyone this. HELLO!! yes."

"ma'am get down or i'm afraid we'll have to throw you out."

"my boyfriend is an asshole." i laugh hysterically, clapping and everything. "YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE YEONJUN!!"

"get down!"

"okay okay i am. relax." the people around me helped me down but i was escorted out because these people are boring and don't know how to loosen up.

i could go to yeonjun. i hope he's not busy with mara right now. i miss him and we haven't spoken in a good minute.

i decide to walk, not really feeling like sitting in a stuffy car.

once i get there, i take a breath before knocking on the door and wait for him to open but nothing so i just enter.

"CHOI YEONJUN!" where is he? "babe i miss you where are you?"

"y/n?" he appears from his room and i immediately run to him for a hug.

"were you drinking?" he asks annoyed. what's his problem?

"just a little. i had like 5..."

"y/n."

"bottles." i burst out laughing but he doesn't seem to find it funny. so uptight.

"y/n you're drunk."

"am not." i pout and he rolls his eyes.

"why are you drinking at this time of the day?"

"because of you. you made me feel like shit when you didn't respond my message yesterday. o drank because you don't care about me yeonjun. you didn't even call to check. WHY DIDN'T YOU AT LEAST CALL ME? TELL ME!"

"yeonjun?" i look at the person calling his name and there stands mara in the doorway to his room.

"babe is she wearing my clothes?" i ask him after eyeing her up and down.

"she's just borrowing them."

"no you are incorrect. YOU yeonjun, took it upon yourself to give her my clothes. borrowing would imply that she asked me to wear my clothes and me allowing her to but it's nothing of the sort. see how it works? come on, go change." i tell her walking towards her but yeonjun holds me back from walking forward.

"what am i going to wear then? jun please speak to her." she is such a bit-

"y/n."

"give her yours then. there problem solved, now everyone can have their tea. i'm so smart." i pat myself on the back beaming at my bright idea.

"y/n you're embarrassing yourself."

"in front of who?" i start looking around to see if there's anyone else here but it's just the three of us. "i don't see anyone."

"me. you're embarrassing me."

"okay but in front of who though?"

"y/n go home, alright, you're drunk and you woke mara up."

"oh sorry mara. i didn't mean to barge into your home and wake you up. and don't even worry about my clothes you can have them. you've already taken something else from me, getting upset over clothes would just be trivial."

"Y/N!" i immediately stop talking, flinching from him shouting my name suddenly. my heart starts rapidly beating and my breaking picks up pace. "please just go home. now."

i nod, trying to hold back my tears as i walk out the door.

"im so sorry y/n." san said, taking my hand in his to try to comfort me. i keep my head ducked.

the door opens and wooyoung walks in.

"san what did you do to her?" he jokes making me laugh a little bit.

"nothing. shut up."

"y/n, can i talk to you?"

"sure." he walks in, sitting down next to san.

"i spoke to yeonjun." he starts off but i don't wanna hear it. anything with regards to him, i don't wanna hear it. his name alone just upsets me.

"let's not mention his name right now."

"i gave him an ultimatum." he blankly says and i look at him.

"what's the point? he's chosen her time and time again, what's the point? and talking about him will just piss me off." i dismiss the idea, not wanting to talk about it further. "let's talk about something else." i suggest.

"you really not gonna talk to him?" san asks and i shake my head.

"i don't want to. you know, something in me keeps telling me to just meet up with him so i can end it, but i'm weak. i'm too weak to do something like that."

"you can't avoid him either though." wooyoung injects but i shake my head.

"then give me time to think things over."

"i'll respect whatever decision you make." he says.

"thank you woo. but please don't let me cause a dent in your friendship. the last thing i want is for you two to stop talking on my expense."

"i'm just gonna say it. y/n, you're too good for him." san says making me smile.

"thank you." i finish my tea and take a shower before heading back to my place.

--

i look through the racks of the detergent aisle. i've been needing to buy groceries for a while.

the past week after the whole incident at yeonjun's apartment have been complete hell. a whole back and forth of emotions and its honestly too much for me but i need some air and run errands and basically get my shit together because i can't let a man put my whole life on pause like this.

my phone beeps and i check, smiling while reading wooyoung's message. him and san have been checking up on me every 3 hours, driving me up the wall here and there but i appreciate it nonetheless.

once i get home, carrying my groceries, genuinely in a good mood after actually taking a walk but ummm.

"what are you doing here?" i ask the girl.

"just visiting a mutual friend." she slyly responds making me roll my eyes.

"get lost."

"no."

"suit yourself."

i unlock the door, going in, shutting it in her face, waving before locking the door.

because i thought a bitch said something. i do not have time today.

i put on my music, deciding to clean up and pack my stuff like the mature adult i am.

while i'm going through my bills, i hear rattling at the door.

now who's trying to break in?

i stand up to go check, deciding to bang on the door to stop this person but then they start again.

"see what i’m not gonna do is deal with this rattling noise going through these thin ass walls, if you wanna get in just knock like a normal person dammit!"

the person knocks and i open the door. why? i don't know, i could literally be in danger.

"what the hell do you want?" i look at the tall man in front of me, not really expecting him to be standing there.

"oh it’s you." i try to close the door but he pushes it and keeps it open. "are you here to shout at me for closing the door in your precious mara's face?" i ask looking at the girl standing behind him.

"i'm here to talk to you."

"i don't wanna talk to you. look i've been having a good day today so please take your little hip attachment and leave."

she looks at me smugly and i decided to just turn a blind eye because she's pissing me off.

"mara please leave." he tells her not even looking at her. her face drops and i look at yeonjun, confused.

"do you want me to wait for you outside?" she asks him, voice getting high pitched as if she wasn't sounding like someone's father while speaking to me earlier.

"go home mara." he sternly tells her.

"jun-"

"leave." he urges making her open and close her mouth like a fish. deserved bitch.

"yeonjun why are you here?" i ask in a defeated tone not really in the mood to talk to him right now.

"i wanted to talk to you. can we please talk?"

"no." i try closing the door again and he stops my from doing so again.

"please y/n."

"i don't want to talk to you right now. please just leave me alone and don't be so rude to mara. go with her and leave me alone please."

"y/n."

"GO."

"i'm not ready to give up on us y/n."

"I TRIED WITH YOU YEONJUN! i've been trying with you. it’s only when i've reached my limit when you come to me with that? it took someone to force you to make a choice for you to realize the shit you’ve done but all those times i've pleaded with you flew over your head. i stood in your apartment drunk as a cry for help and you threw me out because i woke your dearest friend up! i took everything and accepted it quietly. you called me names and i accepted it, you spoke to me however you wanted to and i accepted it. you had that girl in MY CLOTHES, USING MY SHIT SLEEPING IN YOUR BED AND I FUCKING KEPT QUIET. i never once doubted you or your relationship with mara, only to have wooyoung tell me that you had the fucking audacity to question my loyalty to you when i've never given you a reason to. it's not fair so for you to come here, sending mara away in front of me as if to prove a point and demand that i talk to you. it's just pathetic." i yell out to him, finally getting it off my chest.

it felt good to actually say it and dare i say, to shout at him the way i did.

"you're only here because wooyoung gave you an ultimatum and that's what fucking opened your eyes? i'm your girlfriend yeonjun, not a choice and if it's gotten to a point where you havr to you're have to choose me or someone else then please just don't bother choosing me, it's insulting. now please give me some time and leave from here."

he nods his head and i can see the prominent pain in his eyes but i need to stand my ground.

he finally leaves and i shut the door. i truly can't believe this guy.

the last couple of weeks have been hell and here he comes all willy-nilly talking about some, 'i'm not giving up on us' well it sure as hell felt like it. after pushing me away for so long he only comes to me now after i've given up? i've told him how i felt but he only listened after someone else told him.

"fuck you yeonjun!" i sob out quietly. i've found myself saying that a lot lately because who does he actually think he is?

still, after all the heartache, my heart is still too weak to leave him.

he's just a caring person though. that's how he is but if he's caring, then we wouldn't be like this now.

i know that mara is the main reason all of this is happening, he's never acted this way until she developed feelings for him and decided to try to separate us, but he still made his own decisions regardless of that. he let her get between us and he chose to treat me the way he did.

i wanna get back to how we once were but there's this lingering question of 'what if this all happens again?'. i mean, he didn't hesitate to forget me once so what's stopping him from doing it again?

my phone rings and i walk to go pick it up, seeing it's wooyoung calling.

"hello?"

"are you dumb?" he asks me and i furrow my eyebrows.

"okay ouch, first of all, and second, where is this coming from?" i ask him.

"why did you shut yeonjun down when he wanted to talk things out?"

"because i'm tired woo. he's been putting me on the back burner for another girl for weeks before i said anything and when i did, it all just spiraled after that. he spoke to me any which way and i took it but it became too much. i'm tired from all the chasing." i rant out to him, feeling tears forming.

--

"so what does this mean for the two of you?" he asks.

that's a good question...

the next week has just been me thinking everything through. 3 years together is a long time to consider.

i call yeonjun telling him i’m outside before entering the building. i walk to his door thinking over, knocking on it before he opens it.

"y/n. uh come in." he steps aside, allowing me in. being in here fills my head with nothing but memories of the recent events. that's not a good sign.

"do you want anything?" he asks but i decline.

sitting at the kitchen table in awkward silence, my leg bouncing up and down from the nerves that have taken over.

"i'm sorry for lashing out on you last timea. i didn't let you explain your side of the story which was unfair on my part." i tell him, avoiding eye contact.

"how you reacted was valid. i haven't been the best boyfriend to you for a long time now and i wanna apologize for everything. for the way i spoke to you and treated you. it was completely unwarranted and unnecessary and i should have listened to you the first time, no actually, i shouldn't have given you a reason to feel that way in the first place."

i see tears forming in his eyes as he speaks and it takes a lot in me to not engulf him in a hug to comfort him. i can't do that right now, i need to be headstrong.

"it shouldn't have taken someone else to talk to me about this before realizing what i did to you and i should have managed my priorities better. you know, you're the most important person to me and i didn't show it and worst of all, i questioned your loyalty to me, not once but twice."

i never once did. not even when i saw mara walk out of his room because that's how much i trust him. you can't love without trust and he clearly couldn't seem to trust me and that's what stings the most.

that's what breaks my heart more than anything. i haven't given any reason to feel that way which is why i was shocked when he doubted got just me but wooyoung as well. everything between us has been nothing but platonic but clearly he didn't see it that way. a tear rolls down his cheek and i look away so that i don't see him crying, it's my biggest weakness.

"i should know better than anyone that you wouldn't even think of doing such a thing. look, i regret everything y/n. you shouldn't be apologizing for the way you reacted yesterday, i was wrong, i let someone get between us and i hurt you. that's my biggest regret." he says.

we both have tears running down our eyes but i still refuse to look in his eyes. he takes hold of my hand before continuing to talk.

"i'm not asking for you to forgive me right away because i know that's a big ask but let me earn it please."

"okay. you can earn my forgiveness." i smile weakly at him before quickly looking away. "by letting me go." i finish and i feel his grip on my hand loosen a bit.

and that is why i didn't want to look in his eyes. because i know i wouldn't be able to tell him that had i looked in his eyes.

it hurts to do but i know it's the best decision for me right now.

" y/n, what- what are you saying?" he asks, stumbling over his words.

"i thought about this yeonjun. the things you've said to me, the things you've done. it was so easy for you to forget how to act, who's to say it won't happen again?"

"i cut ties with mara."

"it shouldn't have to get to that point. that means that you'd let this keep happening otherwise. it shouldn't get to the point of you having to choose."

"i don't wanna lose you." he weakly tells me but i shake my head.

"actions have consequences. please let me go. let's end this here." i feel the lump in my throat forming and that's the last thing i need. i can't let myself change my mind now. i've had to think about this far too long to let myself fall back in his arms. it's for the best.

"is that really what you want?" he asks and i nod, not trusting myself to talk. "then that's it."

i let out a breath i didn't know i was holding.

"i love you yeonjun."

"i love you too." he says before letting go of my hand.

i walk out without looking back, because if i do, i'll just run back to him.

‘sorry heart, i guess we’ll just have to start again.’

i let more tears fall as i walk into wooyoung's car.

"ready to go?" he asks and i nod and with that he drives off.

"you missed the exit." i told him and he just smiles.

"i know."

"where are we going?"

"who knows?"

"wooyoung."

"you need to see some scenery, get some air, and let your mind relax so that's why. remember, there's a method behind my madness. there always is." he saus smiling.

"thank you woo."

"don't. you deserve the best and i'll always be there to give you just that." he says to me making me smile.

#choi yeonjun #yeonjun #yeonjun imagine #yeonjun scenarios #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung scenarios #yeonjun angst #wooyoung angst #tomorrow x together angst #txt angst #ateez angst #tomorrow x together #ateez #kpop imagines

[meowcats734]

[Soulmage] The goblins who dwell just outside your village are small and dumb –in an oddly endearing way. The villagers humor their innocuous raids and sometimes even give them advice. In the village’s darkest hour, the goblins send aid.

“It’s debatable whether goblins are even sapient,” Witch Aimes began, and I already knew today’s ‘history’ class would be nothing more than thinly veiled propaganda. “What is known for certain is that they are a subspecies of humanity, twisted over millennia by their over-reliance on the witchcraft of mischief—yes, Cienne?” Witch Aimes radiated irritation as I raised my hand—and when a witch radiated irritation, everyone in the room could feel it. A careful, grating hum filled the class, aimed at me like a warning. I am a powerful person. Do not cross me if you value your continued existence.

“Goblins are sapient,” I said. 

She arched an eyebrow. “And what evidence do you have for that?”

“What evi—I lived shoulder-to-shoulder with goblins for sixteen years in the Redlands! What evidence do you have that goblins are a ‘twisted subspecies’ of humanity!”

“I’m so glad you asked, Student Cienne.” Yikes. Normally I had to piss her off a lot more for her to get all formal. Or, wait, was this about the ‘Vile Magics’ discussion this morning? That might explain her mood. The witch reached into a space only she could see, arrogance swirling around her like a cloak, and pulled out a hunched, green corpse.

Bile rose in my throat.

“We know because of autopsies,” Witch Aimes said, her glare unflinching as she stood over the corpse of a person, and for a stuttering heartbeat she was not Witch Aimes but a far older witch, the echo of the despair that had ruined my home village—

###

Ice blotted out the summer sun, the magics of misery freezing the very moisture out of the air. My mother stood between the fragile wooden door and my quavering, curled-up form. Another building collapsed under the weight of the ice-witch’s onslaught, and I could hear his glee as our village’s despair fed his growing power.

“I don’t want to be here,” I whispered. “Mommy, I want to go home.”

My mother looked around the tiny wooden hut that I’d grown up in, the battered, creaking rooftop, the bitter, chilling cold, and didn’t have to say aloud that this was not our home anymore.

“It’s going to be okay, Cienne,” Mom whispered. “The witches—they can only see despair. If you—if you just stay calm and don’t panic, they won’t know where to find you.”

I tried, I really, really tried, I squeezed my eyelids as tightly shut as I could and pretended I was under the summer sun, but I heard someone shatter like spun sugar and I couldn’t do it I couldn’t do it I couldn’t do it it was all my fault and we were all going to die and the door smashed inwards like so much cheap glass—

“It’s okay,” my mother whispered as she stood. “It’s okay, Cienne. I forgive you.”

And when I opened my eyes she was gone, and the witch of frost stood in her place.

It was my fault. It was my fault. I hated myself so much, I felt so small, I wanted to shrink into nothing and hide where nobody would ever find me, and I waited for the snap of cold to end my life—

But it never came.

The witch of frost, by some miracle, didn’t see me in my hiding spot.

Later, I would understand why. Later, when the goblin tribe searched the village for survivors and kept me fed and warm until the Academy swooped me up, I would sort the events into a linear story. This is where my mother died. This is where the trauma unlocked something within me. This is where I wanted so badly to fall asleep and never wake up.

The goblins didn’t fight the witch. They would have been slaughtered like cattle. That wasn’t my darkest hour, in any case.

My darkest hour was what came next.

###

I stood, clenching my fist and feeling the delicately patterned ornament I held. A message from an old man who may have been a friend, who knew what it was like to grow up under the rifts. 

“You have your corpses,” I hissed. “I have my life.”

The words of the old man dug into my palm.

They cannot take this from you.

I shoved my chair back and stormed out of class.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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#writing #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #writeblr #serial fiction #fiction #series #web serial #oc

[bullet-prooflove]

The North Star - Part Eleven: Weak - Terry Bruno x Reader

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after 'Blood Out'. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @legit9thlunaticwarrior @bbyxoo @the-adzukibean  @xoxabs88xox  @crazy4chickennuggets  @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life @witches-unruly-heart

Part One: Moments (NSFW)

Part Two: Case of the Ex

Part Three: Her Worse Half

Part Four: Always

Part Five: Ask Me Again (NSFW) 

 Part Six: Degas

You’ve been up a couple of hours by the time Terry appears. He’d grumbled when you’d slipped from the sheets, his face pressing into your pillow as he nestled into the warm space where you’d resided. You left him sleeping as you showered, taking stock of the bruising that was starting to blossom across your wrists and between your thighs. It was had to look at yourself, when you did, you saw a victim and you hated it.

When he finds you, you’re in Meredith’s backyard, sitting on the edge of the decking throwing a tennis ball to Shasta, who hurtles after it like a wild thing, catching it in her mouth when it rebounds off the fence. The sound is soothing, rhythmic. The impact, a calming sound in the chaos of your thoughts.

You knew that sexual assault was about control, about claiming power over someone else. You’d pushed Paul’s buttons throughout the night, turning down the Degas, confronting him, you should have known better…

Just that thought, that ridiculous notion that this was somehow all your fault…

It pissed you off.

It ignited some deeply ingrained sense of rage, something savage and violent inside of you. He had put you in this position, in this horrible untenable place. Report the assault and potentially end up ruining your career or let it go, let Paul get away with it again, hurt you again, keep hurting you because you knew men like this, they didn’t stop. If it wasn’t you, it would be someone else and you knew you couldn’t live with that.

Terry dropped down beside you, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as his gaze lowered to the hues of purple that flourished across the surface of your skin. His lips pursed together grimly before he took a sip from his cup.

“I’m gonna do it.” You told him, launching the ball once more for Shasta to chase. She snatched it from the air before racing back towards you, ears flapping in the wind. “I’ll go to my Captain and report it.”

Terry stayed silent, his thumbs trailing over the pattern of the mug as Shasta dropped the ball at your feet.

“It’s the fact that everyone will know.” You told him quietly. “Everybody will know what I let him do to me, that I let this happen.”

“You didn’t let anything happen.” Terry said, setting his mug down beside of him. He took your hands gently in his, his thumbs tracing over the tender marks upon your flesh. “You didn’t want this; nobody would want this.”

You swallowed hard against the well of emotion in your chest. It made your heart feel heavy and the muscles ache.

“I’m supposed to be the strong one you know?” You asked him, your eyes stinging. “I’m supposed to lead. How can I do that after something like this? When my team view me as weak.”

“Is that how you think they’ll see you?” Terry asked, studying your features. “You think that Sinclair will judge you for what happened? That Lou will say you deserved it? That Carr is gonna tell people you asked for this?” Terry shook his head, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and drawing you close. “Nah, they are gonna see the same thing that I see. A survivor, someone who had everything to lose by coming forward and did the right thing anyway. Those guys have your back, just like I do, like Meredith does and even Duarte.” He said with a smidgen of humour. “You are going to get through this, I promise you.”

“I suppose Mike would always let me join his detective agency.” You said, a small smile gracing your lips. “Duarte’s Detectives has a nice ring to it.”

“The family that heists together…”

You rolled your eyes.

“It sounds more exciting than it was.” You informed him, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Thank you for this by the way. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll never have to find out.”

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#detective terry bruno #terry bruno fic #terry bruno x reader #terry bruno x you #terry bruno

[toushindai]

Do you think something happened between Ganondorf and Rauru before the events of Zelda's memories? I've always viewed them as something like exes cause their dynamic is pretty tense in the flashbacks that Zelda gave us. ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

Exes is such a widespread thought about Ganondorf/Rauru and I absolutely see why—very obviously there is something between them that makes their interactions resentful and deeply personal, and it goes a long ways towards explaining the malice in Ganondorf’s accusation that Rauru has shacked up with a Hyrulean woman. That particular dig is the only one Rauru responds to visibly, not even the “hey do you ever think about how all your people are dead and it would be super easy for me to finish you off?” one, which to my ears is a much weightier and more pointed threat. So I think exes is a delicious dynamic between the two of them—having been close once, having thought themselves in sync once, their philosophical conflicts were too great to resolve and they fell apart, each resenting the other enough that their aftershocks played out on the land of Hyrule.

Unfortunately by the time I saw that this was a pattern in Ganondorf/Rauru thought I was already neck-deep in my own thoughts, which did not involve them being exes and were broadly incompatible with the thought, and it was too late for me. Everyone else, please carry that torch proudly ✊😔

And it’s not just a backstory thing that makes it incompatible with my thoughts… I said above, if they are exes, their breakup becomes much larger than something between two people, effectively underlying if not causing the Imprisoning War. Absolutely a fascinating dynamic, but in some ways the opposite of what I found myself interested in writing, in which the affairs of state—these larger-than-life considerations with their own, slightly off-from-human sense of ethics and responsibility—are jammed into two tiny bodies and performed on a scale far too small for them. Does that make sense? Rauru is Rauru and he is Hyrule and he is the last of the Zonai. Ganondorf is Ganondorf and he is the first Gerudo male in a century and he is the Gerudo. Everything they do two each other is at least three things and there’s no room left for the people involved even as the people involved hate each other and want each other so much.

So, when I say “here’s what I think,” I’m not making any claim to canonicity; this is just what I’ve built to serve as the background odor the story I’m telling with them.

What I think is, Ganondorf and Rauru met seven years before the time of the flashbacks when Rauru got himself an invitation to visit Gerudo Town. This comes up in UAWTATR. Ganondorf loathed Rauru before they even met—understandably, as he and Sonia had already been around the region setting up shrines without permission from the Gerudo—but Rauru was hopeful for some kind of friendship with the Gerudo’s prince. His hopes were dashed to pieces when he met Ganondorf in the Northern Temple (what is now the Northern Ruins—where we find Riju training in TOTK). Ganondorf was curt and antagonistic with him, exuding with every exchange an air of we don’t want you here. This stung Rauru quite badly and he did not very much reflect on how his attitude might have led to Ganondorf’s—especially after, at a banquet that evening, Ganondorf orchestrated an opportunity to demonstrate his own strength (and thus the superfluity of Hyrule to the Gerudo) by having a molduga sicced on the party and taking it down single-handedly. This did not really have the effect he hoped on the royal couple and they left with the impression that Ganondorf’s vibes were rancid.

Then they didn’t really hear from each other again until Ganondorf’s predecessor stepped down and Ganondorf came to power, and at that point “hear from each other” is a very generous phrasing because what happened is Rauru started sending his Repeated Invitations and Ganondorf decided that Gerudo’s new foreign policy, at least when it came to Hyrule, was simply to Ignore.

So all in all, the way I’m writing them, Ganondorf’s time at the court of Hyrule is the first time they’ve dealt with each other extensively, but they already have this enormous history of antagonism built up between them. How refreshing it is to get to hate each other in person! While fucking.

#these days I am thinking about the two of them going hunting together #I am rotating that idea in my mind and seeing if it goes anywhere interesting. I have one GREAT sentence in mind #but one sentence does not a fic make #thanks for the ask! #and we were both kings 😳 #tou and the tearful kingdom

[astraymetronome]

I finished the first chapter the night before this was posted. I'm busy all day today so I can't really take time to post it so I opted to schedule it the night before.

This is a gift for @cyncerity and I do plan to write a few more chapters. It's my own play on their trapped Wilbur au so I hope you enjoy it. I'm calling this Of Starlings and Confines but the tag will just be #Starling AU since it's a little bit of a long title.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Also if anyone wants @'d when new chapters come out. Repost it so I know.

The soft cardigan that draped over his shoulders was enough to tell Tommy he was safe. He had barely managed to make this from Friend’s wool before everything went to hell. It was going to go lay it on the grave he’d made for the ghost but he couldn’t bring himself to do away with it. After all, he didn’t have a chance to see him. Wilbur and Niki had taken the sheep before he even found the sheep’s reborn body. 

On top of this the cape techno had left with him had been turned into a cover for his wings. The avian hybrid knew full well that, if given the chance, Dream would try to cut them off in a heartbeat. He brushed his blond from his eyes, narrowly missing the scar that adorned his forehead. His tail swished as he quietly fettled with his khakis and ruined green bandana that was tied around a belt loop. 

The 16-year-old knew he shouldn’t be doing this, let alone when Dream was on the loose, but he had to check on Boo and Tubbo. They may not be on the best terms as of right now but he had to know they were safe from that fucker’s greed. He wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt from the stupid obsession. The dreamon wasn’t going to be allowed to do any more harm to any of them. He stepped from his dirt shack, running his hands through his messy curls before he let his wings spread. The wind blew through each feather, allowing his instincts to sing at the long-abandoned desire for 5 years. He hadn’t brought himself to return to the sky despite how much Philza had begged him. 

Flying had sadly become a trigger for his PTSD. He hated it considering flying was once a desired release. Dream had taken it from him by clipping his flight feathers and threatening to remove his wings altogether if he attempted to fly once they grew back. It was an endless cycle of having them retired before he even got to use new flight feathers. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure he could still fly after all this time. 

Ignoring his inner dialogue, the blonde let his wings beat almost to the rhythm of a heart before he fluttered into the air. It wasn’t graceful like his dad had once described his flight pattern and instinct, but the sensation of wind and the air brushing under and over feathers was peaceful. He could feel the cape over his shoulders getting in the way of his wings despite being decently pinned. He felt glad he’d done that so at least instead of trapping air or interrupting his flight they instead rested in between his shoulder blades and fell, following the space, past his scapulars.

Each stroke of his pinions brought him closer to his destination and the duo’s home. He knew the husbands would probably be against seeing him, considering Boo didn’t act anything like Ranboo did. Tubbo refused to let him around them since he didn’t want his platonic lover's ghost to disappear. Tommy just needed to make sure they were safe and warn them about the risk Dream opposed to them getting back at him. 

No matter how mad he get at that smiling blob of a fucking person he refused to take it out on anyone but him or not at all. Puffy’s therapy had taught him enough to grow healthy coping mechanisms but.. Well of course this had to ruin his weekly visits upon escaping since Puffy couldn’t handle having her son released. The ewe had mixed feelings after he caused Techno to be dragged into Pogtoupia’s beef which led to her youngest child’s death. 

Tommy hated going into the rabbit hole of his own thoughts but at least it distracted him from the fear bubbling in his stomach. The nagging fear that bubbled in his abdomen, flooded forward and gave a sensation of nausea that shot through every fiber of his being. He did his best to hide it deep down just like he did with most things. This wasn’t something he could hope or wish away like some of his feelings. 

As he got closer, the distant sounds of shouting and seemingly an argument reached his space. Being this high in the air he really shouldn’t be able to hear it but, if they were this loud, something had to be wrong. He broke into a hover, letting his wings slow down into a glide as he made his way down to them. It was hard to get down quickly without just dropping his weight so this was the next best option. 

Once his sneakers reached the brush, grass and moss being crushed under his weight, the teen stepped forward. It was rather refreshing to hear Toby even if he wasn’t in a good mood. The ghostly echo that seemed to speak in response wasn’t very surprising considering the connection Boo had still attached to his spouse. Nothing could kill the bond they both had, Tommy wished he could have experienced the same thing even after exile. 

“We can’t just let that bastard have our son! Goddamnit Ranboo!” His goat friend yelled out, Tommy could see how Boo kept stepping in front of Tubbo as he yelled towards if not behind the ghost. He sighed moving forward and into view of the couple. He wasn’t surprised as the fellow hybrid looked over the enderman’s shoulder and towards him. The half-blind teen simply glared in his direction before the insatiable happened. 

“Tommy! The homeless Teletubby stole Michael!” Tommy could feel his blood run cold at this. He’d been too late to stop that fuckers actions and the choice to take it out on others who no longer had a part in this. He felt a snarl press against his lips and cross his face as he turned. 

“Which way did he go.” He found himself mumbling.

“There is no-” Boo began but Tommy refused to let him finish.

“Where the fuck did he take your son!” The blonde shouted, watching as Tubbo’s eyes lit up for a moment, only a moment, as his hand pointed towards the east. Tommy didn’t even take a second to consider his options before he let his wings open and brought himself up above the trees, propelling himself in that direction. No matter how long the two of them planned to hate or dislike him, he refused to let Michael be a victim. 

He knew Boo would be mad but he didn’t care. Tommy needed to keep Michael safe when Ranboo would be eager to see him if, no, once he was back from the afterlife. He was quick to rush, his dark wings weren’t well adjusted for hiding in the dark unlike his brother’s. Wilbur’s wings had white slats that had some dark brown or black shading. He thought they were beautiful in comparison to his black primaries and bright red flight feathers. His own wingspan of 7 feet seemed to dwarf his size but it really wasn’t. In comparison to his body, when spread out, they looked proper and reminded him of Phil’s crow-based wings. He wasn’t actually aware of the bird his were based on. He knew the immortal knew but he’d never really gotten to bring it up. 

He watched the ground, much like a hawk searching for a rabbit or something along those lines. Unlike a hawk, he was well aware of what he needed to find, not a victim to instincts and a need for food, unlike the well-known predator. Tommy refused to let himself be swallowed up by stupid nature, he wasn’t going to lose himself to it. 

He was unaware of how long it took for him to take notice of pink and white. Without another hesitation he dropped, landing roughly and accidentally causing the small child to scare. The moment the three-year-old’s white eyes landed on his form, the small snort that left him as crying started caused his heart to lurch in panic. He couldn’t believe Dream would consider harming this angel.

“Hey, Big Mike.” Tommy whispered as his arms wrapped around the child’s body, his wings moving to hug him as well. He refused to let him go as the pigling squirmed to be held higher. He tucked the child on his hip, listening as he muttered something in enderspeak. He wasn’t proficient in the language, unable to learn more after Ranboo’s passing.

“Scared. Taken. Green. Blob.” It honestly made no sense to him but he knew what Micheal meant by the green blob. He could feel a growl forming in his throat as he carefully juggled the toddler's body. His hands held him protectively as he moved the cape, uncliping it as he used it to slightly swaddle him. He knew the small boar would like the texture considering he remembered how Techno used to wrap him in one of his own capes. 

Tommy heard something, his slightly pointed ears swiveling as he glanced around. His grip grew more possessive and protective as he looked for the cause. He had this sneaking feeling it was going to be who he thought it was. Dream had no reason to back up or leave. The avian had no armor or weapons on him and he was sure that he would at least need to survive long enough to get Micheal to Tubbo. 

He shook as he glared before his sharp eyes took notice of the small white form on the floor. He wasn’t used to seeing Dream’s blob form. He knew the dreamon was well versed in transformation magic but… this was different. The asshole never entered this form unless he was around George or Sapnap. Tommy lifted him up, with some hesitancy, before hastily dropping him into his pocket and making his way towards the small piglin’s home. He had to get him home before he could take care of this. 

His interest was peaked and, if Tommy was honest, having a chance to take the dreamon back to prison for once and for all, was too important to give up.

#Starling AU #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt g/t #mcyt tommyinnit #mcyt tubbo #mcyt ranboo #vore will be in a later chapter #i'ma sucker for buildup #avian!tommy #hybrid!tommy #hybrid!tubbo #hybrid!ranboo #technically hybrid!boo #hybrid!micheal #demon!dream #tiny!dream #dream smp #discduo #be prepared for angst #trapped wilbur au #rewrite? #kinda