#and simply could not treat him as any less than that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zombiefiilm · 4 months

Text

Next to You

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: sharing a room with the person in the bau that hates you the most makes you go through more emotions than you thought possible

warnings: kind of enemies to lovers, arguing, crying, no use of y/n, smut, nsfw - 18+ only, apology sex, soft sex, fem oral, protected p in v, praise, typical criminal minds death and unsub mentions

word count: 2.7k

Last minute cases in desolate towns in the midwest often meant that there was nowhere for the team to stay. It wasn't uncommon for you to have to pair or group up with other team members in dodgy motel rooms.

The most recent investigation had brought you all to the middle of nowhere in Nebraska, a long day ending with a drive to an motel that housed 7 rooms in total.

You, Reid and Rossi were the last to arrive so when Prentiss handed you a room key and told you that you would be sharing with Reid, it was already too late to complain.

"It's for your own good" she she grinned, picking her go-bag off the floor beside her.

"I hate you" you sighed.

"Sure you do" she was already walking off. You've been face to face with serial killers regularly, and this was just surviving a few nights in the same room as Spencer Reid, you could do this.

You walked back outside to find Reid standing in the dark by the car, right hand in this pocket and his left leaning against the black SUV.

"Looks like you're with me, Reid" you announced and the way that his face instantly dropped almost knocked you over. It was almost like you'd told him you were about to kill him.

"Come on" you began walking down to room 4, Spencer following shortly behind as you unlocked the door.

Being met with just one double bed though was enough to bring tears to your eyes. The couch looked like it had been through the war and there was no way on earth you were even touching it. And the sigh that Spencer let out made you want to rip your own hair out.

"I'm gonna sleep in the car" you quickly turned around to walk out of the door.

"You're not sleeping outside with a killer targeting women the exact same age as you on the loose" he stopped you in your tracks. He was right. "I can take the couch".

You were a little surprised at the chivalry but thankful none the less. "Are you sure?"

He didn't answer, instead dropping himself onto the couch.

Feeling content with his actions, you dropped your own bag on the floor beside the bed and told him you were going to use the bathroom before cleaning yourself up and changing into the oversized t-shirt you were using as pyjamas.

Coming out of the bathroom again, you were going to tell Reid that he was free to use the bathroom now but he simply glared at you.

It was as if he wanted to make your life hell. He always scowled at you, made snarky comments on little details about you, gloated whenever you got anything wrong. He always drove you up the walls, since you first started at the BAU, and you never knew why.

It's not like you had done anything to him, from what you knew at least. You smiled and shook his hand when you met him and even thought he was cute, you treated him just like you did with everyone else on the team, but you quickly noticed how differently he treated you.

You gave him plenty of time to warm up to you before you let yourself develop any solid opinions on him. You were warned about how he took to knew people, and you were understanding at first. But after you were several months in, and now years, and he still treated you like an outsider, you were no longer shy to expressing your dislike for him.

Other people on the team noticed it too, you, JJ, Garcia and Emily often discussing it with each other, but if one of them ever mentioned Spencer's attitude to himself, he'd deny everything and brush it off.

You really tried to not let it get to you, especially with the support from others, But man, did it upset you.

Spencer eventually got himself ready in the bathroom and came back out, silently setting himself up on the couch as you sat in the bed and did some research. There was a nice silence for a while, and then:

"Could you stop turning the pages so loud" he sounded irritated already and you hadn't even spoken to each other in the past 30 minutes.

"What?" you matched his tone, was he really trying to start a fight with you right now?

"I can't even think with how much noise you're making"

"I'm not making any noise, Reid, what's wrong with you?"

"You're flicking the pages, I can't pay attention to anything else"

"Oh so the sound of paper is able to stop boy genius in his tracks?" you mocked, pissed off at what he was choosing to do do.

He glared at you in response, he looked like he was about to blow a fuse.

"I don't know how to help you here, Reid, I'm trying to work on the case"

"Yeah, trying, it's not like you've ever actually done anything important for one" his voice had raised slightly.

"What?"

"You're practically incompetent, how you got recruited to the bureau, I'll never know" you hadn't even noticed him standing up, but it suddenly made you feel uncomfortable so you got out of the bed too, standing on the opposite side of the room.

"Excuse me?" you were completely shocked now, how had he gotten so far.

"You heard me. You have no place on this team. All you do is mess things up, you can't figure anything out and then you go and let our unsubs go"

You knew exactly what he was talking about. During one of your first cases, you had unintentionally informed an unsub that the FBI were searching for him during an interview with his wife and he got away. He was dangerous and you had never forgiven yourself for the people who had died before he was finally caught.

You just broke down in tears after that. It felt like he'd re-opened the wound right there and then.

"Fuck you" you spat through tears. You couldn't even look at him now, turning your back to him to sit on the bed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry" it was like he had suddenly snapped out of the unexplained rage he was just experiencing.

You felt the bed dip as he sat down behind you, and then a hand rest on your shoulder.

You were edging on losing the ability to breathe. It wasn't even just remembering the worst experience you had on the job, it was the fact that Spencer had used it against you just to get a reaction out of you. You wouldn't have even expected that from him.

He just sat behind you as you attempted to regain some sense of composure, not saying anything else. Was he finally feeling some sense of remorse for how horribly he had been treating you?

Once he noticed that your breathing had slowed, he called out your last name, your work name. It felt so impersonal in that moment. Not that you'd ever been on a first name basis with him, but you gave no reaction to him.

He tried again, squeezing your shoulder this time. You gave him nothing.

But then he whispered your name. Your first name. It was quiet, apologetic.. desperate.

You sniffled, wiping the tears from under your eyes before you turned around to look at him. He was sitting right behind you in the bed now, his big brown eyes practically burning a hole in your head. You knew you probably looked like a mess now, face red and wet, eyes puffy, and hair mangled.

"God, I'm sorry" his hand reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek "I'm such an idiot, I can't believe I said that".

You flinched at his touch, not saying anything back to him.

"If I could take that back I would, I did not mean it. It was just in the moment" he tried to hold your face in his hand but you avoided his touch.

"In the moment?" you repeated "What even was that moment. It's like you wanted to have an argument with me for fun".

"I don't want to argue with you, I just.."

"You just hate me" you finished.

"No! I don't hate you, I'm just stupid and don't know how to deal with how I feel about you"

You looked directly into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. "How you feel about me?"

You managed to catch his gaze as it briefly flicked down to your lips. It felt like something was drawing you closer as you moved towards him.

"Please, let me make it up to you".

"No. Are you saying you've treated me like this because you can't figure out what to do about your feelings for me? What are you? Twelve? You've made my life miserable."

The tears spilled out again, what was he even saying?

"Please, just let me show you how sorry I am"

His voice was laced in what could only be described as desperation, it was making you want to hear him out, forgive him, and you didn't quite know why.

"Please" his voice was on the verge of breaking.

Your walls were crumbling down, it was like he'd cast a spell on you

"please"

You only nodded, allowing him to to lean in closer to you, finally cupping your head in his hands and softly pressing his lips against yours.

It was like he was purposefully avoiding any roughness as he gently kissed, from your lips down your jaw and then down your neck. He looked at you then, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question. And you nodded.

He loosely grabbed the hem of your shirt, and you let him lift it up over your head.

He didn't touch you yet, kissing your lips again as he began to slide your underwear down. You manoeuvred enough for him to take them off you completely. He was so gentle that you didn't even think of feeling self-conscious being completely undressed in front of him.

He urged you to spread your legs and quickly laid down on his stomach in between them.

You barely had time to blink before his lips were on you, kissing up the inside of your thigh. as his hands wrapped around you, holding you down.

Then, he was softly licking up your cunt, softly moaning to himself as he tasted you. He avoided your clit, dragging his tongue everywhere except where you needed him most.

"Spence" the nickname drove him crazy, he finally felt like maybe you could be his.

He finally flicked his tongue over your clit and you couldn't help but push your hips against his face, a whine slipping from your lips.

He only egged you on, using your legs to pull closer to his mouth. He kept circling your clit, increasing the amount of pressure he used as your squirmed under him.

Every few moments, he'd bring his tongue down again, dipping into your hole gently, gathering your slick, before suckling at your clit again.

Slurs of his name, swears and a few 'oh my gods' were the only coherent sounds that could leave your mouth. He had gotten you incredibly sensitive and you felt like you could tip over the edge at any moment.

Spencer himself couldn't stop himself from moaning at your taste, your sounds, how your skin felt under his hands. The vibrations pushing you further.

He suddenly sucked a bit harsher, almost nipping your clit before going back to his previously gentle movements.

The contrast between the rare harsher movements and his gentle attention had you bucking into his face, only to be stopped by his hands pushing you down.

All of a sudden, you felt your release. You moaned much to loud as you writhed under Spencer's mouth, him carrying you through your orgasm.

Just as you felt yourself come down, you went to pull yourself away from Spencer, but he refused to let you, keeping you pinned down to the bed as he let himself taste your release.

"Spencer, please" you were so incredibly sensitive at this point, your body jolting at every small movement. You had to bite the side of your hand to stop yourself from yelling out from the pleasure.

He suddenly pulled off of you with a soft *pop* ad sat up, quickly kicking his trousers and boxers off as you reached forward and loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

Now that he too was undressed, you felt more equal, it was almost metaphorical as if he was agreeing to end the weird tension between the both of you.

He sat between your legs again, lifting your legs around his hips. You hadn't noticed the condom he had taken out from his pocket until you heard the crinkle of the foil as he opened it.

He quickly rolled it down his shaft as you finally got the chance to look at him. You felt yourself clench in anticipation.

He finally lined himself up and you were subconsciously pushing your hips down towards him.

"Please, Reid" you practically begged as he leaned forward but he stopped at your words.

You looked into his eyes, pleading for him to fill you up, but he didn't.

"Spencer" you whined, and he quickly rutted his hips into you.

"Thats it, good girl" he praised as the air was knocked from your lungs.

He started slow, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to finally caress your skin. It was like he was trying to memorise the curves of your body with one hand. He grabbed at your hips, held your waist, squeezed your breasts, as he slowly picked up his pace.

He couldn't get enough of feeling your body as he pinched your nipple, marvelling at the way it hardened further.

"God, you're so beautiful" his hand finally fell down to your clit, rubbing small circles in time with his thrusts.

You couldn't even get a single word out at this point, too tired and desperate to say anything.

"I'm so sorry baby" if he didn't have your attention before, the name had definitely gotten it now. "I'll be so good for you from now on" you could tell he was close from the waver in his voice, but you too felt your 2nd release approaching.

"You're so perfect" his rambling was interrupted by groans, "never want to leave your side ever again" his thrusts had last there rhythm as he circled your clit quicker, desperate to get you to cum before him.

It didn't take long for the coil in your stomach to snap, vision blurring as he continued his thrusts. Not much after, he plunged into you one last time. You could feel him coming inside as he filled up the condom, his chest now flush against yours.

You both laid there for a few moments, enjoying the hot, sticky embrace as you caught your breathe.

Silently, Spencer pulled out, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash before pulling his boxers on. He then got you cleaned up, helping you put on your own underwear afterwards, before you got into the bed.

He tried to walk over to the couch but you were not letting that happen. “Get in here Reid" you muttered, laughing quietly as he practically jumped in beside you.

As he faced you in the bed, he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. "I'll make it up to you, I'm sorry, about everything" he kissed you once more, it would take more time for you to forgive him, but for now you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencerreid #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fluff

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

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Zoro is fuckboy material.

Sanji is boyfriend material.

Shanks is husband material.

Mihawk is BDSM Dom Daddy™ material.

Earlier I refused to elaborate.

Now, I will elaborate no further than the sources below the dotted line.

dottedlinethedottedlinethedottedlineth

Zoro

He'll pull you into a broom closet without any warning at all, turn you around, pull your panties down under your skirt, and have you right there when the mood strikes.

Then he'll catch your eye across the deck half an hour later and give you a little smirk that makes your cheeks flare bright red. You're not sure if you want to either kick him in the shin or go for another round right that moment, if not both.

He's not looking for anything serious because he's just not that good at getting close with anyone or being emotionally available in general.

There's a lot of time between port towns, and you're a good match for each other's physical needs and desires, but not much beyond that.

Sanji

Even if he is a relentless flirt, he's just such a complete sweetheart. It's difficult not to swoon at those subtle little touches at your waist and hips, at his seductive murmur in your ear.

He respects every last one of your boundaries; if you tell him something he's doing bothers you, he's going to back off from it. No protest, no questions asked. He's still going to make it clear that he thinks you're incredible, but he wants you to be comfortable and happy above all else.

He's still as sweet as candy even once he does win you over. Playful and flirty and constantly planning the most romantic dates. Picnics on the beach, preparing candlelit diners just for the two of you, laying out a pallet of blankets and pillows with a bottle of wine under the stars—doing everything possible to make you feel special.

It's difficult to tell where it will go, but he's sweet and doting and fun, and he puts every ounce of effort into treating you like literal royalty.

Shanks

You're his lover just as much as you are his best friend. He doesn't hold anything back from you, good or bad, trivial or important. He wouldn't ever consider keeping a secret from you because the thought simply wouldn't even cross his mind—whatever he knows, you know. If anyone else tells him something in confidence, they tell him knowing that he's going to tell you the second he sees you.

His gestures of romance are more subtle and revolved around camaraderie than worship. If you're cooking or cleaning, he wants to be there, both to help lessen the load and to just be there with you. If he sees you washing dishes, he's right there next to you with a towel to dry them and put them away. If you're cooking, he's helping clean up after you. If you're sweeping the floors, he's apt to just take the broom from you, kiss you on the cheek, and tell you to go take a load off and relax.

Absolutely nothing could ever stop him from being with you. There could be an entire armada of Marine warships between you and him, and he would still find his way to you.

Every hope or dream you have ever had in your life is also his now. Literally all of them. It doesn't matter how long ago it was or how unobtainable it seems—if you still want it, he wants to make sure you achieve it. Does't matter what it is. He's never going to tell you it's silly or impossible or unachievable—he's going to exhaust every effort to find a way to make sure you can achieve it.

Mihawk

Hopefully you didn’t have too many plans of your own, because if you've managed to catch his interest, he's going to make sure that you're his, and probably within the next twenty-four hours or less.

He isn’t completely unreasonable. You will have the option to refuse. But he isn’t going to beat around the bush, either. He's going to pull you against him by your hips, comb his fingers through your hair and grasp it to pull you in and ask you outright if you want to belong to him.

He won't pressure you if you say no. That's your choice. He'll just leave you with a deep, passionate kiss that makes your knees weak, a light brush of his thumb across your lips, and he'll let you go.

But if you say yes...then good luck. You're his now, and he's never letting you go.

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messiahzzz · 5 months

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i have seen several posts around that addressed how discouraging gale from taking the crown of karsus is “keeping him from realizing his true potential.” that tara is merely upset at his choice, instead of being utterly devastated at the loss of her little love. that it’s not a bad ending per se because to get there he didn’t need to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls in the process. gale isn’t continuing the cycle of abuse either, he still appears to love tav and does come back for them to offer them ascension. he wants them to be equal, so it can’t possibly be an unhealthy dynamic, right?

but what of gale himself, his own convictions, values, and everything he holds dear? everything flawed and human that shaped him into the person he is?

player: are you saying you want to ascend? claim godhood?

gale: no, not like that. i don't want to join them. i want to better them. a god's powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart.

gale’s motivation for acquiring godhood is that he will able to aid mortals in a way no other god has ever done before. he won’t hide behind pretense nor require blind devotion of his followers. he will understand and be able to empathize. he wholeheartedly believes that he will be different - he will act.

gale: [..] the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind ao. so let us act ourselves.

gale believes that by becoming a god he will kill two birds with one stone: aid mortals and acquire enough power to quash any of his insecurities and enemies in the process. that by ridding himself of every perceived flaw he'll finally feel like he will have enough to offer - maybe, just maybe he'll even be content. his flaws are merely holding him back from becoming the best version of himself, and by ridding himself of everything fallible, he will be whole. maybe this is what all of his suffering has led up to. maybe the orb chose him. maybe the reason he had to endure all the pain, isolation, and excruciating loneliness was so that he could realize that he was meant for something even greater. after all, power feeds ambition. and what is more powerful than a god? his convictions were certainly naive, he possesses enough knowledge to know better. don't get me wrong, part of him definitely wants to spite mystra a lil. but his intentions at that time were mostly pure. a reflection of his self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy.

player: this is wrong, gale. that power will corrupt you, even if you can seize it.

gale: it won't, i swear to you. it's merely a tool - a means to an end.

once we meet gale at the party in his new godlike form, it is apparent that even with all the power at his fingertips, he has reached no greater knowledge about himself. his insecurities are still as present as before, he merely is less subtle in his compensation - repeatedly highlighting his grandeur and how dull life on faerun is compared to the wonders of elysium. it is also genuinely crushing to see how little he thinks of himself even now.

gale: i was nothing. a drifting dust mote of a wizard, abandoned by my goddess, my powers lost, my reputation destroyed. and look at me now. i'm their proof.

any perceived dismissal of his Greatness™ is met with immediate disdain.

gale: a bold decision to treat a divine being with such cold indifference.

nodecontext: aloof, annoyed you weren't impressed with him

gale: you mortals do love to live dangerously, don't you?

nodecontext: the slightest hint of a threat - you've probably made an enemy here today. or at least, you've lost a friend.

he is still desperate to impress. emphasizing what an honor it is that a new-born god chose to bless their little soiree with his presence. gaze upon all his divine glory! gale has now become the embodiment of everything he criticized about the gods. his original intentions and plans are discarded and long forgotten. he assuages his erstwhile companions by telling them to simply pray to him, in case they should ever require aid. if they're lucky and their ambition pleases him, he might even deliver.

player: what does the 'god of ambition' offer to his followers?

gale: i 'offer' them nothing. i inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves.

player: interesting, so you help mortals help themselves?

gale: precisely. though that isn't to say i'm averse to the odd bit of direct encouragement.

gale: [..] my aims are set a little higher than offering cursory blessings to just any half-decent spellcaster.

gale: regardless, ethical quandaries are more the remit of my mortal devotees. they do love to talk, and faerun is starting to listen.

aiding "any half-decent spellcaster" is unbefitting of his status. he isn't concerned with questions of ethics and morality either. deeming such matters beneath his divine capabilities.

once gale has ascended and established his domain, what remains of the gale we knew? what of his mortal heart?

minthara: your ambition is not cruel, but you fear that if you indulge it, you will lose yourself in the mysteries of the weave and unravel the world.

minthara: you are afraid of so many things, and it is that fear that keeps you true to yourself.

gale did lose himself and ultimately became one of his biggest fears. considering that his existence as a being of pure ambition leads him to constantly seek out greater heights, it isn't farfetched to believe that raphael's prediction will indeed come true.

player[astarion]: ambition? finally, a god i can get behind...

gale: i assure you, this is merely the prelude to a far grander vision. elysium's in for something of a shake-up.

all that remains of gale is a thin veneer of the person he used to be. what he presents is a hollow echo of the old gale. he does retain some of his mannerisms and quirks, but he is definitely a lot colder and more condescending. if his personality already changed that drastically after a duration of only 6 months, what will he inevitability turn into when he has eternity at his disposal?

essentially, you are aiding gale in the eradication of himself. eradicating everything about him that made him into the loveable, charismatic, awkward, kind, buoyant person he was. everything about him that he perceived as defective, flawed, and lesser-than. before, his hubris was merely an expression of his own discontentment and low self-worth, but now he is hubris incarnate. all of his worst qualities have been amplified.

gale: i am ambition incarnate. as indistinguishable from that most potent sensation as mystra herself is from the weave. and word is spreading.

nodecontext: palpable, almost unsettling excitement from him - hint of megalomania

he put his trust in tav, trusting their judgment and relying on them to nudge him in the right direction. after all, they had plenty of opportunities to show him that they are an ally worth following and confiding in. but in the end, the prospect of what he could be, the things he could give them, the enemies he could yet conquer, won over the desire to simply accept him and help him rebuild a life on solid ground. tav denied him the unconditional love he craves most out of their own selfish desires.

tara: you were looking out for him. i expected better of you.

as i've already mentioned, gale desires nothing more than to be seen, accepted, loved, and valued. having a partner who wholeheartedly supports and believes in him is enough to make him feel content. most importantly - he just wants to live. to enjoy life with everything it has to offer. his ambition can’t be quenched because he hungers still. believing that only by acquiring more power will he finally be enough and reach said acceptance.

we see in his good ending that his own contentment was even able to influence and (temporarily) sate the orb's ever-present hunger:

gale: [..] or perhaps the orb's hunger was fuelled by my own, and my contentment influences it in much the same way.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

it is devastating that he doesn't reach the same feeling of fulfillment if he chooses to pursue godhood, and is instead compelled to continuously surpass his own accomplishments. not being granted rest or reprieve.

gale: i achieved everything we hoped i would, and still i'm not good enough for you?

gale pursuing godhood isn't evidence that he "has been evil all along" or that he "just waited to be unleashed" either. we can't diminish tav's influence in this outcome, they are after all an extension of the player. able to steer every companion toward a path of redemption or to enable them in their worst traits. fandom has already established that by letting astarion ascend you are actively supporting him in becoming the very thing he despises most, putting your own ambitions and idea of what you want him to be above his healing, this is no different.

tara: the gale i knew wasn't like this. he recognised his mistakes. he was contrite. all he wanted to do was live.

tara: unfortunately, he fell into company that turned his gaze towards foolishness. yes, i mean you.

player: gale is his own man, tara.

tara: false. he was mine. though now he belongs only to his own pride.

yes, the epilogue cutscene is beautiful and there is something bittersweet and romantic about his love for tav being one of the few emotions that remained a constant throughout the past 6 months. he didn't need to come back for them, but he did cause he loves them still. no matter how warped his definition of love may be now. while it is abundantly clear that tav ranks lower on his priority list than they did before, his commitment remains.

gale fears isolation, hoping to never return to the time when he was hopeless and alone, stuck inside his tower. by heading in this direction he is once again creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

tara: [..] if i pretended you hadn't turned tail on every lesson you set out to learn, i'd have no right to call myself your friend.

morena may as well have already resigned herself to her son’s death. elminster partly blames himself. for his lapse in judgment, as well as being the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place. mourning the kind, bright-eyed boy who cried at the scorched roses in his neighbor's garden. tara won't be here anymore to care and look out for him either. he has lost his oldest and dearest friend, the one who witnessed his downfall from grace and never left his side. who believed him to be the finest mind AND the finest wizard she's ever had the pleasure to know. who was certain that he’d find a way out of any crisis no matter the circumstances. ...and if tav declines his offer to ascend with him? what does he have left?

gale: yes, i am rather radiant, aren't i?

tara: don't flatter yourself, gale. you've debased yourself in ways i could never have fathomed.

tara: goodbye gale, i hope the heavens are worth it.

gale’s godhood ending deals with the loss of humanity, the loss of oneself, and everything one holds dear. it is a devastating and bone-chilling narrative. it is a tragedy.

gale: i hope you don't think less of me. great ambition should not come at the expense of what you already hold dear. i see that now.

if gale could see himself, he would be horrified at the losses he deemed necessary to get here. he would be horrified at what he’s become.

#buckle in this is gonna be a long one!#even for my standards #to be clear this is by no means meant as a slight against specific users #just here to clarify that it is definitely one of the worst outcomes for gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 epilogue #bg3 epilogue spoilers #bg3 patch 5 #bg3 meta #god!gale #had this sitting in my drafts for days now but i am so sleep-deprived that i can't even tell if this is cohesive anymore (i apologize)

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asmosmainhoe · 3 months

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hi i saw that you mentioned you’d do Obey Me Characters react to you being jealous and was wondering if you did it, cause i couldn’t find it 😅. and if not.. well i guess this is a request haha thank you 🫶

The brothers reacting to a jealous MC

Notes: Omg it's been yeaaaaars since I talked about that jsnsjqh I totally forgot

Gender: neutral

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Lucifer

Saying that he doesn't enjoy the scene that unfolds before him would be a lie. You're standing there with your arms crossed and a frown on your face, too proud to admit your jealousy

He might even tease you little bit and have that awful cocky grin form on his pretty lips. That frustrates you more than anything

"Don't be a fool, my love. As much as I take joy in seeing you like this I don't want you to feel insecure."

"I'm not insecure though. I trust you."

"I know, but nevertheless I want you to remember that you have no competition. You could never have competition."

Maybe it's his reassuring voice or the adoration that is oh so obvious in his eyes that makes the silly voice in the back of your head shut up. You believe him when he says that no one compares

Mammon

So many mixed feelings. On one hand he likes the thought of having his favorite person fight for him, but on the others he really doesn't want you to beat yourself up over this

Mammon is a party animal and incredibly outgoing so those traits naturally come with some side effects which is in this case an overly confident admirer. The same admirer who is currently experiencing the terror of a lifetime thanks to the deadly looks you're giving them

As much as a jerk your beloved boyfriend can be this time he's keeping his teasing comments to himself. On the contrary even. He's sending clear signals towards the other demon by displaying so much affection towards you to the point where you have to practically shove him off you. It still leaves you giggling and grinning

"What in Diavolo's name are you doing?!"

"What does it look like? I'm givin' ya the Mammon deluxe package!"

Leviathan

Of course he knows the feeling too well. After all he's struggling with keeping it at bay at the slightest interaction you have with other people. It's not his intention to hurt you or cage you in simply because he can't control himself

So out of all the brothers Levi is the one to react the fastest. He's already pulling you aside for a more private setting and tightly wraps his arms around you

"Please don't think anything of it! You're my number one and you always will be!"

The hug might or might not have been a way to hide his intense blush as he's saying those words. We all know that it takes a lot out of him

He will avoid the other person like a plague from that point on even if you stop being jealous of them. Someone only has to mention their name and he's jumping to his feet as if he got stung by something

Satan

He doesn't care about how others feel about him so when you first mention that he has an admirer he doesn't pay it any attention. You don't know if it relieves or bothers you to be honest

While Satan couldn't care less about such things he still does care how you feel in this situation. If you're uncomfortable with the way the other person is treating him then he will address it to them immediately

But beware! He thinks the problem is solved with that and most likely doesn't quite notice that it still bugs you. You literally have to bring it up to him, but don't worry. Everything after that is easy

"Please don't get this the wrong way. I trust you with all my heart, but I don't know...I guess I need some extra reassurance to be able to get passed it."

"No, don't apologize, my dear. I'll give you anything you need to have the issue solved."

Asmodeus

Us Asmo stans know that he comes with a price. The price being a comically large amount of fans who would kiss the ground he walks on

Usually you're not the type to be bothered by that, because you knew exactly what you agreed to when dating him and Asmo has done everything in his power to never let you feel insecure in this relationship

Unfortunately there is still this one specific person who you can't seem to stand at all. The thought of them alone turns your stomach upside down and has your blood boiling

Please feel more than free to bring it up to Asmo though! He doesn't want you to feel that way.

Since the beginning he's been doing nothing, but fight the allegations that he's not a loyal partner and only cares for one thing and you've been making sure that he knows how much you trust him

"I can tell them to step on the breaks and if they don't listen then I'll just be a bit more assertive."

"What exactly do you mean with assertive?"

"Don't you worry your pretty head, honey."

The next day this person magically vanished from all social media and for some reason Asmo doesn't want to give you any details, but you do know that his fanclub has something to do with it

Beelzebub

Like Satan he couldn't care less what other people feel towards him. He has his family and his own close circle that's all he really needs, but he's an extremely attentive boyfriend. Your sudden mood changes whenever this particular demon is mentioned or around don't go unnoticed

"Did they do something to hurt you?"

Beel-fight-mode is activated and he's looking around for that person, ready to knock the breath out of their lungs

"No, no! It's a bit...silly."

You're feelings aren't silly! They're valid! Just tell him what's going on and he will get to it immediately

If you need some extra reassurance after that then he's more than happy to cover you in love and affection

Belphegor

Is it bothering you enough to put up with his teasing? Don't give me that look. We both know that he's going to provoke the shit out of you

"Wow, is someone jealous?"

"I will punch you."

Yes, he will make you suffer for several days, but when he notices that you're genuinely hurting from it he will stop

He doesn't mind being rude to others to get his point across or to get you what you want. So, no. He's not breaking their heart. He's shattering it into million tiny pieces and stomps on the remains

Later that day when you two are cuddling in bed he's telling you that you're the only one for him as he drifts off to sleep kissing you

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euphoricfilter · 4 months

Text

the silent ‘i love you’

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au

summary: sometimes you don’t need words

word count: 1.1k

tags/ warnings: fluff!!!! just very soft and nice and easy to read for tonight. intensional lowercase. sort of sleepy thoughts about love <3

where you can find my other works :D

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

some days jungkook simply felt like those three words weren’t enough. that the warm glow of his fragile soul couldn’t scream loud enough for your own precious existence to know how much he truly loved you.

that the whispered words of love as the both of you woke, or a gentle kiss before you both slept and met in your dreams— it simply was only the surface of how he felt. that the silent ‘i love you’ the both of you shared each day was somehow louder than the words themselves.

tender souls touching in a whimsical dance between your existence.

tangled so tight, unmoving, seeping out of you with that fluttery sort of love.

the kind of love that pulls a smile onto your lips at the mere thought of them. gentle touch enough to have your skin alight. obsessive, itching greed consuming every fibre of your being, needing them closer than humanly possible. bodies pressed together and heart beats in sync, tied together by a string of fate and life times you shared before this one.

and some days neither of you had to say ‘i love you’ but that didn’t mean the love wasn’t there. that either of you loved the other any less than you had the day before. or more than you would tomorrow. because it was ever-growing. blooming in both your chests, a flower that would live through all of eternity.

it would be him waking before you, purple and blue toothbrushes sat beside one another in the cup on the sink. or how on some days he’d pick your shower gel over his own. for no other particular reason that he loved everything about your existence, that he felt that little bit closer to you in the hours you had to part.

or remembering to tuck one of your hairties in one of his pockets, just in case.

the same hair tie you’ll find in the washing machine days later, smile tugging at your lips. because as much as you remind him to take everything out his pockets before putting them into the washing machine, there were things you could never get mad over. not when he thinks of you, even when you’re not there. a silent show of care that you never bring up because that was his secret to keep, dissolved into the back of your mind for safe keeping.

he likes to hold your hand as you cross the road, fingers interlaced. because he knows sometimes you get too caught up in your own head, unaware of the wider world around you. so he keeps you glued to the pavement before tugging you across the road. fingers squeezing yours when he knows the both of you are back to safety and you’ll let him pull you around, blind trust in him to take you where you need to go

you like picking him up from work, sat outside on a bench with a box of treats for the walk home. and he would indulge you, even if he had the car parked a block away. not caring if it would mean he had to walk the next morning. because he would never abandon those gentle moments with you, shoulders knocking as you kiss sweet cream from his lips, desperate to hear about his day just as much as you want to share yours

you liked to say ‘i love you’ through the stars. tugging him to the roof of the apartment building, legs tangled as you lay on a blanket.

you both look up at the sky.

so many questions slipping off your tongue. where you talk of fate and destiny and how you loved to believe that two souls so intricately intertwined like your own was probably crafted by something as beautiful as the stars, or another celestial being that just knew what the future held. speckles of fine stardust crafted and moulded, so, when you found a mortal body there would be no doubt he was the one for you, just as you were the one for him.

he likes sending you photos of cats. adopting the habit of carrying a small bag of treats around with him; though neither of you have a pet.

he remembers the frown that would tug on your face each time you’d come across a stray. and he’d stand there for as long as you like as your fingers pet over fluffy heads and behind furry ears. another silent vow of love to a lonely creature.

you liked to pack him lunches, hours spent in the kitchen of a nighttime experimenting, because you never wanted him to have a dull meal. and he’d sit there at the table, reading as a piano piece plays over your phone. not a word spoken between the both of you, and some nights you scuttle his way with a fork-full of something for him to try.

there was love in the tv shows you watched together, the music you shared, the space you both lived in. the closet was a muddle of clothes and accessories that he liked to steal from you just like you steal from him. racks of both your shoes line the entry way of the apartment, collection of mugs a sudden birthday tradition that will go on for as long as you’re alive.

you lived in his mind like you lived in the plants around the house. or the posters you’d put on the walls. and he lived in your mind with gaming consoles and photos of you hung up that he had taken, loved and forever cherished; thriving in the memory of you and how much he loved you then and how much he loves you now.

jungkook had tried to find a better word.

hours spent laying in bed, with your head on his chest, moon spilling into the room as he mulls over the thought of you.

how he likes how warm you are, how he likes sharing this space with you. that he’s glad he’s found you, grateful that you exist within the same time line as him.

your silly little stories of a wonderful sweet sort of love filling his own mind— because maybe you really were crafted for one another. and even if he forgets three simple words, the both of you know love lives within the sphere of your existence.

because maybe that’s what the both of you are when you’re together. maybe even in those moments you’re apart. perhaps you’re the epitome of the word love and that’s why all the silent ‘i love yous’ equal more than words ever will

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts non idol au

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scoobydoodean · 4 months

Note

what is your opinion on people calling dean a heavy misogynist? i don’t agree personally but i feel like you could put my thoughts into better words

First, I have to chuckle a little at "heavy misogynist". Apparently, some people have begun to realize their fave is also guilty of misogyny crimes therefore they focus on making sure all of us know Sam is a light misogynist and Dean is a heavy misogynist. I just find that amusing.

This is a broad topic in a long show, so I won't endeavor to address every conceivable incidence of misogyny in the show I can think of. Instead, I'm going to create a few headings, at least one of which I think most criticism falls under.

Misogyny through the writing team

How Sam's misogyny gets a pass

Purity culture wank and Dean performing for Sam

How Dean actually treats women

Misogyny Through The Writing Team

First, Supernatural in of itself has issues with misogyny—as in, the writers of the show (including female writers) have issues with misogyny which they are happy to put on display semi-frequently. The show started in 2005, during a period of time where casual sexism was absolutely rampant on TV and no one thought anything about it. Female celebrities were regularly mocked and dragged on cable television in a way men simply weren't. They were called bitches and skanks and whores, and even "progressive" voices were inundated with casual misogyny and a fixation on purity culture (that largely applied to women only). Quite simply, I think fandom tends to be far too generous toward the writers, assuming certain things were "flaws" the writers intentionally wrote for the characters.

Put another way, there are some criticisms I prefer to level at the writing team rather than the characters, because what is written plainly reflects their ignorance in the real world rather than any intent to give Sam or Dean or any other character meaningful flaws—much less outright terrible ones that greatly harm their image. I'll give a few examples:

2.17 "Heart" makes me very uncomfortable as I sit here in 2024 and observe how Sam and Madison's romance develops. Me feeling that way does not mean the authorial intent of 2007 Sera Gamble was that I think to myself, "Man Sam comes off as uncomfortably rapey here." Hopelessly bad with women, perhaps—but not creepy.

In season 2, the writers begin to develop a running “joke” that Sam is afraid of not just clowns but also little people. The latter “joke” is (wisely) dropped fairly quickly. I have never criticized Sam for being afraid of little people, and I never will. It is readily apparent to me that this running "joke" reflects the ignorance of the writing team rather than an intent to give Sam meaningful or interesting flaws. Their intent was to use little people as the butt of a joke. I personally find this "joke" distasteful, and the idea of trying to take that and somehow "dunk" on Sam for the bigotry of the writers is more distasteful to me.

This is also how I feel about the running "joke" of a porn magazine and website (BAB) that solely features Asian women, that is put on display on multiple occasions during the show—first in 2.15 "Tall Tales", where the context is Gabriel infecting Sam's laptop with a virus from the website and making him believe Dean is responsible. BAB continues to make "Easter Egg" appearances in the show afterward. While often associated with Dean by fandom, the writers clearly think of BAB as a general, "funny" (it isn't), running gag with no more depth than "haha men like porn funny". An issue is stolen by a sentient teddy bear in 4.08 "Wishful Thinking". An issue is owned by the teenager who swapped bodies with Sam in 5.12 "Swap Meat". The Men of Letters also collected a considerable number of issues (8.17). I simply do not believe the writers thought for a single moment about BAB being a grossly racist gag. They most certainly did not write it as an intentional criticism of Dean from that perspective. It reflects nothing but their ignorance and racism here in the real world, and absolutely SHOULD be criticized from that REAL WORLD impact.

How Sam's misogyny largely gets a pass

One of the things I have not been able to stop noticing on this rewatch is Sam's issues with misogyny, and how often Sam's misogyny comes out in conflicts with Dean... starting from the very first episode of the show. Pretty much any time you get anything that feels like it might be a misogynist Dean or horn dog Dean moment... Sam either just has or is about to follow that up with some misogyny of his own.

In 1.01, right after entering Sam's apartment and meeting Jess, Dean mentions the Smurfs on Jess's shirt. We think to ourselves "Okay. A little misogynist... a little horn-dog Dean." Sam is happy to 1-Up that in two ways. First, Jess voices her intentions to go get dressed. Dean dismisses this, but while doing so, makes it clear he intends to leave the room with Sam, as he'd like to have a private conversation with Sam anyway. Sam objects, walking over to Jess and putting an arm around her, demanding Dean say whatever he needs to say right then and there. Maybe this would feel supportive if Jess wasn't in her underwear and hadn't just made it clear that now that the panic over a possible break-in is over, she'd really like to not be in her underwear in front of a stranger. But nope. By god she needs to stand there so Sam can prove a point about misogynist Dean! Second, Sam immediately (and I think quite erroneously) jumps to imply Dean is trying to cut Jess out of the conversation because she's... a woman? Or... something? He makes a big show of moving over Jess and standing beside her, saying anything Dean has to say, he can say in front of Jess. However, the moment Sam actually understands that Dean is here because John is missing on a hunting trip, he dismisses Jess to speak to Dean alone... because he's lying to her. By painting Dean erroneously with this "The men are talking" bullshit that had nothing to do with anything, Sam sets himself up to be viewed as a misogynist by his own framing of the situation and what it means to leave Jess out of a discussion. He also reveals his own alleged principles as a performative illusion. Despite being his intended life partner, Sam never intends to tell the woman he loves about his past as a hunter (he makes this clear later on the bridge). However, I think because Sam's actions usually co-occur with what gets called out more directly or more immediately recognized as misogyny from Dean (should have gotten him for the Smurf's comment, Sam!) Sam's misogyny often flies under the radar... and he's really... pretty bad.

I spoke here at length about how Sam tends to look down on women who interact with Dean (often before meeting them). There is absolutely an intersection with purity culture here and there's discussion in that thread about that as well, and whether this is a "2000s writers" issue or intentionally written flaws.

In 1.06, Sam cuts Dean off before Dean can accept an offered beer from Rebecca, but then as soon as Sam needs Rebecca out of the room, Sam asks her to not just bring them those beers... but also fix them sandwiches. Rebecca says, "What do you think this is, Hooters?" and Dean mumbles, "I wish" and we somehow lose sight of the fact that Sam literally just asked a woman to make him sandwiches which is possibly the number one misogynist man trope. Sam vaguely suggests Dean is a misogynist in 1.19 for nudging Sam to go on a date with Sarah Blake and possibly get information on the case, because that would be "using" her, but Sam wants to "use" Meg Masters in 1.22 and he wants to "use" Ruby to get what he wants, and when he said getting information from women was "Dean's job", he was also showing he was perfectly willing to use Dean and Sarah—he just doesn't want to get his hands dirty. It also comes to light in 1.19 that this is more about Sam's belief that he has to protect women from him, and Sarah herself ends up calling Sam antiquated for it.

I mentioned before that Sam doesn't plan to ever tell Jess who he is, and he makes the same plans with Amelia. Dean, meanwhile, confides in Cassie (it's what leads to their breakup) as well as Lisa.

I also have to mention... one of the funniest things I see deancrit samgirls in particular dig at time after time after time is Dean calling women "bitches". Never mind that Sam also calls women like Ruby and Bela bitches and calls a woman a bitch in front of Madison. Apparently none of these occurrences count because... *looks at notes* reasons. "Bitch" only counts as misogyny when it's Dean saying it. Also, let's not mention that Sam exclusively uses the word "bitch" to refer to women, while Dean also calls men and creatures bitches at different points so it isn't a gender specific insult for him.

Dean is definitely the "heavy" misogynist here... right? (I guess Sam is a "tall" misogynist instead).

Purity culture wank and Dean performing for Sam

Dean is commonly treated in fandom as if he's some kind of sex pest, and quite blatantly... he isn't one. Women almost always proposition Dean first (thejabberwock has sets on this here and here), but him asking people out also isn't inherently creepy in any way? Co-occurring with Sam's purity culture inundated judgements, we often see fandom's own as well, where Dean is some kind of sex pest because he... likes women? Or... because he has sex with consenting women who also want to have sex with him? Sometimes it's giving purity culture wank, sometimes it's given big radfem energy... but regardless, I sometimes see people talk about Dean like him so much as making eye contact with a woman is a violent sexual threat, and that's just laughable—as is denying the agency and autonomy of consenting women in general.

Even though it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, I'll also add that Dean... doesn't even actually have sex with the frequency that people talk about it? Dean has sex with Cassie—who was a long term partner of his in 1.13. He has sex with an actress in 2.18, and with Doublemint twins in 3.01. He has sex with a waitress 4.05. He plans to have sex with someone in 3.04, but turns her down when he realizes she's a prostitute who's working. This happens again in 10.07. I'm on season 4 of my rewatch and haven't been formally keeping up... but Dean is not actually having a lot of sex? We get implications he's been out partying a few times, and can maybe infer he scored, but we don't actually know.

I'm not a huge fan of performing Dean, in the sense that I think over the years I have seen it wildly overstated far too many times. But I do think Dean sometimes plays a character for Sam especially. Dean tells us this himself in 2.03 "Bloodlust" when confiding in Gordon. He never says so directly when it comes to the sexy sex guy doing sex persona, but his actions reveal him. One can think of plenty of examples of Dean saying horny stuff about women to Sam... but what about his actions?

How Dean actually treats women

Finally, there's how Dean actually treats women... and one would be very hard pressed to prove to me that Dean is sexist toward the women in his life. He's been close friends with multiple women and worked with women on hunts on multiple occasions and never once batted an eye. Jo in 2.06 is sometimes floated as an example, but it's actually discussed within the episode. Dean makes it very clear that he thinks women can do the job just fine. What he has a problem with is Jo's lack of experience and her romanticization of the job (especially during a period where Dean has fallen deeply out of love with the job himself). Everything we see as the series progresses supports Dean's assertion as truth. He's very good friends with Charlie, Jody, and Donna and doesn't go around excluding them on hunts while favoring men. That is not a thing that happens. While he initially tries to talk Claire out of the life (as he does everybody—this is not unique to women—see Adam for example) when she decides to hunt, he supports her regardless. There is nothing uniquely overprotective about how Dean treats women who hunt. End of. Dean has no illusions about traditional gender roles or any of that nonsense, jumping to clean dishes after dinner at Jody's and cooking breakfast for Lisa and Ben. (Our knowledge of Dean and the chores he does for his family already tell us this—but regardless). Even Demon Dean, an entity with no love for anyone and close to zero principles, targeted men who abuse and threaten women, and when Crowley ordered him to kill Lester's wife to fulfill the terms of Lester's demon deal, Demon Dean instead became so deeply annoyed with Lester's hypocrisy (he cheated on his wife first) and his assertion that it's different when men cheat, that he killed him and smiled while doing it.

So anyway, nope—I don't think Dean is a "heavy" misogynist.

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azrielbrainrot · 1 month

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

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kamiversee · 1 month

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 19 || The Halt of Something New

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, & angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 6.1k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOU'RE AN IDIOT.

Did you really think that everything was going to be all sunshine and rainbows just because you have a crush on a guy who treats you right?

How humorous it is for you to have been worried about Choso using you as if that's not exactly what you're doing to him. Sure, you wish things were different and that you weren't technically using him but, it's the truth-- you are using the man.

Sleeping with Choso was a requirement for you. His name was just something you needed to cross off the list, a box in which needed to be checked.

And let's not forget, you have to go on and sleep with Sukuna sooner or later. Someone who Choso's related to, according to Gojo.

How the fuck are you going to pull that off?

By now, it's been approximately two months since you've been blackmailed. Going down your accomplishments so far, out of a total of seven men, Gojo included, you've got the majority of the list completed.

After that one night with Choso, you found it extremely difficult to move on to the next guy. You weren't expecting it to be this hard but, you just couldn't leave the man alone.

You spend all of your free time texting him or on the phone with him and whenever your schedules align with one another, the two of you are within each other's company.

Those rendezvous that you had with Geto came to a stop and you ended up sleeping with Choso more than anyone else.

From your apartment, to his car, to his apartment, to his art studio, and even to a vacant janitor's closet-- you and Choso have been fucking like rabbits. The guy couldn't get enough of you.

Sex aside, he couldn't get enough of everything about you. If Gojo was right about anything; Choso did in fact grow attached to you.

Thing is, you couldn't differentiate whether or not he was attached because of the sex or because of you in general. Either way, it wasn't good.

The two of you hung out often and you only got to know him more and more and more. Choso's a wonderful person and you view him as your way out of the dark and deep hole Gojo's dragged you down into.

Even so, you can't help but feel like something about Choso is... off.

His care for you often overshines it but you simply cannot ignore how odd some of his actions or phrases to you are. For example; after the first time you slept with him and he left, how did he get back into your apartment?

You never asked him about it but you do wonder sometimes. Did he take a key before he left? Or did he simply leave your door unlocked so that he could get back in? Either way, it's odd.

Then there are those prolonged stares of his. You can feel the way he drinks in every little detail on your face. At first, you thought it was an artistic thing, thinking that maybe he admires you so intently because he sees beauty.

But over time, it really begins to feel as though Choso's inspecting you, printing your facial expressions and smallest gestures in his brain.

These moments of intimate study over your features give you wavering fluctuates of emotions in your chest. Sometimes you enjoy his expressive eyes and other times you don't.

Even so, none of it makes you like him any less, it just makes you feel like the man sees right through you. Choso makes you feel like a piece of glass, especially when you're lying to him.

As much as you can, you avoid talking about anything or anyone regarding the list when you're around him but the few times you slip up, you swear Choso is able to see through all the bullshit. That's what makes you nervous.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

A wise person once said; ignorance is bliss. Such a phase is nothing more than true for a woman such as yourself.

You believe you know a lot about Choso. You also believe you know a lot about Gojo.

But the truth is, you don't. There's a long twisted and fucked up path ahead for you but your ignorance is what keeps you in a blissful state, shielding you from the twisted truths of the feelings being harbored for you.

Honestly, it isn't difficult for one to acknowledge Choso's obvious crush on you. However, you fail to see the depths of said crush.

In the time you spend getting to know him and being around him, you end up being very transparent with him, to which he reciprocates every time. At one point you admit to Choso that you've slept with others within the time you've known him, sparing the details of who (of course).

His response to that information was that there was another girl he had relations with named Yuki but he stopped fooling around with her around the same time he started having sex with you. It was kinda messy and somewhere deep down you think you were a bit jealous but you had no right to feel that way.

And while jealousy is the topic of narration; Choso subtly lets his show every now and then.

He's aware that you and he aren't in a relationship but that never stops him from pulling your body close to his when he sees someone staring at you, or giving someone a death stare as they speak to you, or even telling someone to fuck off whenever they try hitting on you.

Is it wrong of him to do so? Technically, yes. You're not his girlfriend so he has no right. But, do you stop him from doing any of those things? No. Do you secretly enjoy seeing him act this way? Perhaps.

Even so, Choso does try to keep his jealousy over the small things at an all-time low. The last thing he wanted you to see was how far his care for you really went.

And he had it under so much control until he saw the negative effect a specific person (Gojo) has on you...

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

In all honesty, you had forgotten about the list for a while as Choso's presence and your feelings for him consumed you. At least, until Gojo texted you.

Currently, you sit in the passenger seat of Choso's car, your fingers aggressively tapping at your phone screen as your mood sours from merely one text from your blackmailer.

The vehicle is parked not too far from your apartment complex as Choso had driven you home from a day spent at the museum. He said he needed to go there for research for one of his classes and invited you along but you can't deny the fact that the whole thing felt like a date.

Even so, Choso's in the driver's seat, his ears perking up at the sound of your fingers tapping so quickly and aggravatedly across your cell phone. The man can't help the burning curiosity he feels as he glances over to you.

With tensed brows, your jaw clearly clenched, and scoff after scoff leaving you in reaction to whatever's on your phone-- Choso finds it physically impossible not to feel the need to question you.

"Are you alright over there, love?" He asks carefully after hearing your sixth sigh in a row.

You don't even look up from your phone, too engrossed in Gojo's stupid concerns for you, "Mhm, I'm fine."

"Liar." Choso points out.

A frustrated little groan leaves your lips, "I'm fine, Choso." You repeat, your voice stern.

The man tilts his head, his eyes burning into the side of your face.

He stares for a while, having no response to your repeated lie to him. After a few minutes of simply watching you text back and forth with someone, Choso scoffs and tears his eyes off you.

He pulls out his phone and tries to distract himself from you and whoever's got your attention but it's no use. Scrolling through social media is impossible to focus on when all he hears is the annoyed sounds you keep letting out and the way you dryly laugh in anger at something.

The male doesn't even know why he's so hyper-focused on you like this. More than usual, Choso finds himself picking up on every little thing about you.

There's even this feeling he gets in his chest when he sees your attention elsewhere. He wonders if it's jealousy but it couldn't possibly be that when the two of you aren't in a relationship.

Reluctantly, his eyes find their way back to you again. His vision fixates on your hands, attentively watching each letter you tap on the screen.

Choso's able to put together the words you're typing out just from watching your fingers alone, gathering the message you typed that reads; 'Don't give me that bullshit about just wanting to check up on me. I already told you not to text me like this unless it's about the-' Your fingers had stopped moving.

Both of your eyes went wide as you received a sudden call, cutting off your rant. Choso doesn't mean to be nosy like this and it's almost instinctive the way his eyes search for who's calling you, only for that curious gaze of his to be obstructed by you quickly turning your phone off and dropping the device.

A deep groan leaves your lips as your phone slips slightly in between your thighs. You let it vibrate against your skin, completely ignoring Gojo's call.

You then look over at Choso and his eyes fly up to your face.

It's awkward the way you two stare at one another. He's wondering if he seems far too nosy having been all up in your phone and you're worried that he may have seen the messages you've typed and who just called you.

"Are you uh... not gonna pick that up?" Choso questions. Evident in his tone is this carefulness, as if his words were walking on eggshells.

"No." You answer curtly, "I'm actually about to block him."

"Him?" Choso repeats thoughtlessly.

The two of you freeze.

Choso didn't mean to let that slip. His bottom lip draws into his mouth in regret, having wanted to avoid feeling jealous over nothing. In his mind, he has no reason to exhibit such emotions when you're not his girlfriend-- a fact he constantly has to repeat to himself.

The male looks away from you after saying that, visibly letting his thoughts take over his words.

"Yes Choso, him." You reply, your tone cold.

You don't want to take your frustrations out on your crush but then again, the last thing you have time for is jealousy.

Your frosty gaze peers into the side of his face as he avoids looking at you after slipping up like that.

He figures he's already let one question loose so why not continue expressing himself? "Mind if I ask who's 'him'?" Choso questions.

Your brows push together and you open your mouth to reply but after a second of thought, your mouth shuts. You'd nearly said something out of aggravation and you had to hold your tongue to prevent any negative vibes between you and Choso.

With a sigh, you look away from the man. "Do you remember the asshole I told you about weeks ago?" You ask, tone soft but still holding your stress.

Of course he remembers, how could he not? You told him about said asshole during your first phone call with him, an event in which Choso could never forget.

"The one that made you cry?" Choso asks for confirmation, his voice dry as he recalls the unnamed man you always refer to as an asshole.

You hum, "Yeah, him."

Choso steadily looks over to you, his eyes sinking down to the buzzing phone in your lap, "I see." He replies. He then lifts his eyes to your face that's turned away from him, "Still don't like him, huh?"

"I told you before, I hate him." You explain.

"Then why're you just now about to block him?" Choso questions, his tone growing more dull.

You scoff, "I'm not in the best position to where I can actually block him."

"Why not?"

"Because there are things he and I still have to work out." You explain vaguely.

Choso blinks, his eyes darkening as his mood dips into something annoyed. "Is he an ex of yours or something?" The man asks you.

You turn your head to Choso with pinched brows and a scrunched-up face, "What? No."

"Mhm, right okay so, what do you still have to work out with him that prevents you from blocking him?"

You sigh heavily and flash a clearly annoyed smile, "Choso, while I appreciate your concern for me, I really don't feel like explaining right now."

Your crush grits his teeth and visibly bites back a response to that. There's a mix of genuine care and jealousy brimming inside him.

"Right. My bad," Choso resorts to sympathy. "Just know, if you need advice, I'm right here." He says with an emphasizing scoff.

For the first time since you've met him, Choso is aggravated. You're unsure of why he's upset when you have the right to be private about the context of a man who's upsetting you.

You're not obligated to explain anything to Choso. He knows that.

Though, that's not why he's upset. As he turns his head away from you and looks out his window in thought, Choso feels displeased at how some guy has you angered and the way you won't open up to him.

There's this need you feel within you to calm Choso down so, almost instinctively, you reach a hand over to his side and place it on his thigh-- watching the way his body stills under your touch.

Choso glances down at your hand and raises a brow.

You swallow, "I know you're right here and I know you can give me advice but..." Your hand slips upward along his leg in a comforting manner, "This isn't something you can help me with."

The sound of him clearing his throat as you touch him is heard. Choso rolls his hips a little, trying to comfort himself under your touch while your hand trails up.

"How uh... How do you know?" Choso hums, just barely taking his gaze away from your moving hand.

Your eyes meet his, "Cause' it's uhm... it's personal." You explain, grinning slightly.

You then lift your hand from his leg, to which he sighs, and grab a light hold of his chin. Your thumb rubs over his smooth skin and Choso just melts into your touch.

"Oh," He says, nodding slightly, "I get it..."

"Yeah, sorry-"

"Oi," Choso cuts off as he raises his hand to yours. His eyes are serious while he shifts to kiss your palm, "What'd I tell you about that?"

You chuckle, "About what? Apologizing?"

"Mhm. There's nothing for you to be sorry about." He tells you, "I get it, it's personal."

"It's a habit," You explain simply, nearly apologizing again.

"I've noticed."

A smile spreads across your face, your mood lifting, "Have you?"

"Course' I have," Choso says.

He then moves your hand, placing it back down on his thigh with his own resting on top. His fingers gently caress your smaller ones, eyes dropping down to the sight and his expression relaxing as he does so.

The tension in the car begins to dissipate as you and Choso find solace in one another's touch. The weight of the situation lifts and you feel a little less uneasy.

The warmth of Choso's hand on yours is comforting, providing you with a moment of relaxation. He never fails to change your mood.

Choso looks up to your face, "I notice everything about you, y'know."

Your smile widens, "Do you?"

"Yeah. I try to remember as much as I can." He tells you.

You raise a brow, "Why?"

"I don't call you my muse for no reason." Choso claims, "When I say that, I mean it artistically too."

Too, you repeat mentally. He's confirming that calling you his muse has always been meant in a romantic sense previously.

"Really? So do you have more paintings of me hidden somewhere or something?" You ask jokingly.

He laughs slightly, almost as if there may be some truth to what you just said. "Somethin' like that, yeah."

"Wait seriously?" You ask, your face brightening up at the thought.

"Yes. I find myself accidentally drawing your face quite often." Choso hums, looking back down to your connected hands as the tips of his ears redden.

You lean closer to him slightly, "Aw really??"

He clears his throat, "Yes, really. Do you uh... You wanna see?"

"Of course I do!" You beam.

He can't help but stammer as your excited expression is revealed to him. The way seeing you happy has him melting immediately is almost embarrassing.

Chuckling slightly, Choso nods his head to his bag on the floor in between your legs, "I have a sketchbook in there you can look through."

You don't hesitate to move for the item, quickly removing your hand from his thigh and diving it down to the bag on the floor. You unzip it and rapidly spot the book he's referring to, taking hold of the item and pulling it out.

As you do so, your phone keeps buzzing in your lap but every notification is ignored.

With a smile on your face, you hastily open the sketchbook and the first drawing you see is a picture of someone that makes your smile flicker. It's difficult to control your facial expression when the first image shown to you looks like a younger version of Sukuna without face tattoos.

You bat your eyelashes at it and open your mouth to say something but Choso makes up for your confusion by speaking first, "That's my little brother," He explains.

"Yuji, right?" You ask in return, having remembered the name from a previous conversation with Choso.

Any chance he's gotten to talk to you about his brothers, he's taken. Well, with an exception for Sukuna. The only reason you know they're related is because of Gojo, which concerns you since Choso always finds a way to talk about his siblings to you.

A big smile spreads across Choso's face, "Yeah, you remember his name?"

"Yep." You reply proudly, "And your other brother's names are Kechizu and Eso, right?"

Oh, the man's heart is simply fluttering at the fact that you remember his brothers' names. "Y-Yeah." Choso stammers, flashing you a gushing smile.

You flip to the next page of the sketchbook and see two more drawings of Yuji but at different angles. "I think I know who your favorite is..." You say teasingly.

Choso chuckles, "I don't have a favorite."

"These drawings say otherwise..." You hum as you continue to flip through the next few pages.

Other images of Yuji and Choso's other siblings appear and you can't help but smile at each one. Eventually, you get to a page where the drawings go from portraits to anatomy; more specifically, hands.

You notice that each hand seems to be his own, all in different positions and angles. Your eyes skim page after page until you come across a set of hands that appear more feminine than the rest.

A narrowed gaze inspects the paper a bit closer and you can't help but notice how the hands on the page resemble your own.

"Cho..." You call out, glancing over to the man, "Are these my hands?"

There's a light shade of pink on his face but his eyes are down on the sketchbook you're holding. "Mhm." Choso hums quietly.

His timidness makes you smile before you continue. Steadily, the focus of his sketches transitions back to portraits and you soon come across a drawing of you. You can't help but cheese at the sketch-- Choso draws your features so beautifully.

The male leans toward you a little, "Like it?" He asks.

Your smile doesn't waver for even a second, "Like it? Choso, I love the way you draw me."

Choso finds himself smiling at you, his heart simply pounding in his chest. "R-Really? Wow, thanks...? I'm happy you like it so much."

"Love, Choso," You correct, turning to look at him, "I love it."

He holds eye contact with you but his face goes red as you utter those words to him, "They're uh, they're not even that good though..."

"They are to me." You argue, looking back down to the page, "I look so pretty in your eyes."

"You're pretty in everyone's eyes, princess." Choso complements.

You chuckle, "That's cute but no, I'm not. Thank you though, I think you capture my face better than my phone, honestly."

"I disagree," Choso says.

You look at him. "Why?"

"Cause' I could illustrate your face a thousand times over but..." His gaze softens as he thinks for a second, "Something always feels like it's missing."

Your brows raise a little, "Like what?"

"I dunno, you? It's like they look like you but they don't feel like you and I'm struggling to express that feeling on paper." He explains, "Which is why I ended up choosing graphic design and not fine arts, I'd be losing my mind if my career was based on this..."

You laugh at him, "Yeah, I get it."

After which, you start flipping through page after page again, beginning to see what the man meant when he said he draws you often. You're pretty sure you've seen yourself with almost every facial expression and every angle by the time you reach the end of the sketchbook.

"Seems like you express the feeling of me just fine on paper," You point out, "Well, at least to me."

"Nah," Choso denies, raising his hand to your chin and forcing you to face him. His eyes scan your face, "Every drawing in there is missing something."

"If you say so," You chuckle.

The male pulls you toward him, weighing himself to you at the same time as his thumb moves to outline your mouth, "For example; your lips." Choso sighs.

You blink, "They looked fine to me."

He shakes his head, "When I draw them, they lack warmth."

"I mean... they're sketches Choso, I'm not sure how-"

"Your eyes," Choso unintentionally cuts off, still tracing your lips, "When I draw them, it feels like you're actually looking at me."

A snicker leaves you, "So are you supposed to feel me kissing you when you draw my lips?" You ask in a joking manner.

Choso smiles, "I wish but no, that's not what I'm trying to feel." He then shrugs, "I just want to draw how looking at your lips makes me feel."

"I'm not sure I understand, Cho." You sigh.

"Every time I look at your lips, I wanna kiss you. Every time I look into your eyes, I feel... vulnerable. In my sketches, I feel that same vulnerability as when I draw your eyes but then I feel nothing when I draw your lips," Choso explains in full.

"I see..."

"That's why I said they lack warmth. The sketches don't feel like you."

You nod understandingly, "I get what you mean now."

"Mhm. And y'know I think it's because I study your eyes more than your lips," Choso continues, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down. He then licks his lips, "Maybe if we made out more I'd be able to draw your lips better."

Your eyes widen for a moment, then you start laughing. "Choso, you did not just use your art as an excuse to kiss me."

He gives you a toothy smile, "Oh no, I definitely did."

You commend him for his excuse by leaning in toward him and tilting your head, slowly connecting your lips with his. Choso struggles to control his smile whilst you kiss him and his hands steadily go to your cheeks, cupping your face in his palms.

It's now you struggling not to smile as both of you kiss each other passionately.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You wished every day could've stayed like that.

Such a time of bliss was something you'd been longing for amid your stressful troubles. To stay in Choso's arms for hours on end was something you'd plead for if it meant you could feel happy for some time.

Of course, all good things must come to an unfortunate end. And in your case, it wasn't an end but more of a... pause.

About one more week was the most you got to enjoy happiness with Choso. From your point of view, you could just not tell Gojo that you'd already slept with Choso, which prolonged the unlimited time you have for the list.

And it was wonderful not having to move on from Choso but, it did lead to a stronger attachment growing between the two of you.

It happened on a Friday afternoon. Something you stupidly didn't think about. A question you hadn't had an answer to, which led you down a path of regrettable decisions.

It was all fine at first. Shoko wasn't home, like always, and Choso was resting his head comfortably on your chest. His body lay slightly on top of yours and his arms were wrapped around you comfortably.

The two of you were watching TV together, almost like a couple in love. Whenever you laughed at something on the screen, Choso would smile at the sound and snuggle the side of his face into you.

At some point, an emotional scene came up on the TV and the words made the man on top of you begin to think. There was a couple arguing in the show about their relationship going public or something and damn the way it made Choso wonder.

For you, it was unexpected. The man shifted slightly, taking his eyes off the TV and looking around your room in thought.

After a moment, Choso spoke. "Hey, can I ask you something?" He requests.

Your eyebrows raise slightly as you look down at the man lying on you, "Depends," You tease, "What kinda' question is it?"

He chuckles, lightly but nervously. "It's uhm..." He moves around to glance up at you for only a few seconds, then he looks off to the side. "It's about us."

You bat your eyelashes at him and your heart freezes in your chest, "A-About us?"

"Mhm." He hums.

"Alright," You swallow, "What about us?"

Choso goes quiet. It's clear he's debating something, his eyes trail over to your face once more, and those sangria-colored eyes of his fill with uncertainty.

You return a curious stare to him before raising your hand to his face. Your thumb gently skims across the tattoo running along the bridge of his nose. Choso's hair is loose, dark strands messily flowing down and just barely reaching his shoulders.

Your small touch to his face provides him with this sudden sense of comfort, making him grin. "What is it, Cho?" You ask, your voice soft.

"What uh... No, I..." He trails off as he tries to find the right way to word his question. Choso swallows hard and shuts his eyes, "Okay. Do you like me?"

You chuckle at his sudden question, "I thought I made it pretty obvious..."

He sighs, "I'm being serious. Like, do you have feelings for me?"

"Uhm," You chew on your lower lip in thought.

Choso's eyes open and he takes in your expression, "Be honest with me, princess."

You smile, "Why are you asking me this all of a sudden?"

"Cause' I have feelings for you," Choso admits bluntly.

Your eyes go wide as if you didn't already know that. "O-Oh." You chirp.

"So," He sighs again, feeling as your thumb continues the gentle trace over his tattoo, "I wanted to know if you feel the same."

"I do," You whisper, seeing no way of avoiding this conversation.

Choso nods, "Yeah, I know." He then chuckles, "I just wanted to hear you say it."

You pout, "This isn't how I planned on confessing..."

"Welcome to my world," Choso hums teasingly. "Anyways, that wasn't my main question..."

"Oh?" Anxiety returns to your nerves again.

He stares up into your eyes, "See, I uh, I like what we have going on right now, I think..."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I like spending time with you, I like laughing with you, smiling with you..." His voice lowers and he glances off to the side, "I like fucking you," He murmurs softly before looking at you again, "I like it all, honestly."

"Okay... Where are you going with this Cho?" You question, your eyes narrowing a little.

He swallows, "Well... Do you like what we have going on?"

You're quick to nod, "Of course."

"Right so..." Choso bites his lower lip for a second, then releases it, "Is this all you want?"

You blink. "What uh... What do you mean?"

"I mean," The man shifts, pulling his face from your touch and propping himself up over you with his elbows, "There's no... label on us."

"Okay..." You trail off, worried about where this is going.

Choso sighs heavily, "How long are we going to be like this?"

"I-I don't know..."

"Don't you want to be something more?" Choso questions.

"I do," You hum, "But..."

His brows furrow and he tilts his head slightly, "But what?"

"Not..." Your voice lowers and you look away from him, "Not right now..."

He blinks, "Okay, but... can I know why?"

You shrug sheepishly, "I like what we have right now."

"I do too," Choso claims. "But, I'd also like it if we were... y'know..."

"If we were what?" You ask.

"Together." He answers straightforwardly.

Ah, here's what Gojo warned you about.

You chuckle slightly to try and ease the growing tension, "We are-"

"Officially." The man cuts off.

You look at him with pleading eyes, "Choso, we-"

"Publically." He cuts off again, his expression full of seriousness.

"So, what, you wanna date?" You ask.

Choso blinks, "Yes."

Your heart starts caving in. "T-This is an interesting way to ask me out, y'know..." You tease, again trying to ease the tension.

It's no use though, Choso's not in the mood to joke about this topic. He voices out your name in a low tone, making your body freeze beneath him.

"I'm not joking." Choso tells you, his eyes intimidating, "I wanna be yours."

Fuck, those words almost made you smile. Under any other predicament, you'd say yes in a heartbeat. But, you can't date Choso and finish the list at the same time.

You swallow hard and look away from him nervously, "Ch-Choso, I-"

"And I want people to know that I'm yours," He expresses. "Yes, I like what we have now but the unknown of it all... it bothers me."

"Unknown? Choso, we know what we have-"

"Do we?" He scoffs.

Your brows pinch together, "Yes?"

"I don't." He claims, "I mean, there's no title to it. I just can't help but wonder... What..." He sighs heavily and shuts his eyes again, "This is so cliche but, what are we?"

And there it was. The question you struggle to answer. It's a damn good question because, honestly, what are you two??

Choso lifts himself up some more before sitting up, "Are we fuck-buddies? Is that what this is?"

"N-No, we're-"

"Is this some kinda' situationship?" Choso asks further with a scoff, he seems upset now. "Cause' y'know, I'm just really confused. We hang out like friends one day, fuck like lovers another, and then..." He trails off, shrugging instead as he doesn't know what to say.

You move to sit up too. "I... Choso, I didn't realize you wanted to put a title on this..."

He narrows his eyes at you, "I didn't... at first. But then I found myself feeling weird when people stare at you whenever we go out or annoyed when your attention is elsewhere a-and... I can't say anything about this weird feeling because we're not in a relationship so..." Choso explains.

"Feeling weird? You mean jealousy??" You question further.

"Yes. That's exactly what it is, jealousy. I get jealous because of a lot of things and there's nothing I can do about it because we're just..." He pauses, then shrugs annoyed. "I don't even know."

You take a deep breath and keep your voice gentle, "So that's why you're upset, because you get jealous over things when you feel like we shouldn't and because you don't know what we are?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Choso tells you.

"Okay so-"

"Do you want me?" Choso cuts off, the question pouring out of him faster than he intends.

Your voice gets caught in your throat, "I... Of course-"

Choso moves again, his hands placed at the sides of your legs and his face coming closer to yours, "Then have me." He whispers passionately, "If you want me, have me.”

"I can't..." You murmur.

His gaze switches focus back and forth between your left and right eye, "But you can." He argues, moving to take one of your hands and hold it against his chest, "I'm all yours, I just need you to claim me."

You frown at the needs prodding at your insides. You want nothing more than to do such a thing but you can't.

Choso inches his face closer, his head tipping to the side and his lips nearing yours, "Tell me I'm yours," He whispers, now moving your hand to his cheek, "Let me be your boyfriend."

You inhale heavily, your breath shaking as you do so. "Choso..."

"Yes, princess?"

"I... I can't." You tell him regrettably.

Choso grits his teeth before turning his face to kiss your palm, "Why?" He whispers, "Tell me why we can't be together?"

Your heart throbs in your chest as you come up with the only excuse you can, "I can't do a relationship right now."

A moment of silence envelopes the two of you as Choso sighs into your hand with his eyes shut. He then pulls away slightly for just a second to shake his head in disbelief before planting a kiss on your palm.

"Right..." Choso mumbles into you, "Okay."

He then releases your hand carefully and turns his face to yours. You both meet eyes and he can see all forms of sadness within your gaze. Choso feels his heart waning at the sight.

Slowly, the man shuts his eyes and kisses you. You're not sure why he does it but you definitely don't fight it, kissing him back tenderly.

Choso parts from your lips slightly and whispers against your skin, "Whenever you're ready," He begins, causing you to frown immediately.

"Ch-Choso please-"

"You can call me," He continues, "I'll be there for you in a heartbeat."

You feel as though you're about to cry, "Are you... leaving me?" You whisper.

He nods, "I'm sorry."

Your hands go to his face again, cupping his cheeks in your hold as if to convince him not to, "Choso please, I just..."

His hands move to your wrists and he gives you a soft squeeze, "I can't do uncertainty so," Choso gives you one last peck on the lips, "I gotta go."

Another kiss is placed upon your lips and you try to push yourself further into it so that the connection never ends. Choso's heart feels heavy as his lips pry from yours.

With one final look into your eyes and a somber grin, Choso pulls your hands off his face. He then releases your wrists and moves to get off your bed.

You quietly watch him grab his stuff and move toward your bedroom door.

He then turns back to look at you one last time, "When you're ready for a relationship, I promise I'll be here."

You release a shaky sigh, "Please don't leave."

He frowns, "I can't stay."

"Choso..."

"I'm sorry, baby." He apologizes gently.

You bite your bottom lip, holding back the tears that threaten to pour out of your eyes.

With one last gaze and sigh, Choso tears his eyes off you and walks out.

And there you're left; alone.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

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elixrr · 3 months

Text

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ☆ ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ᴍᴇɴ

ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴡ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜ.

ꜰᴛ. Genshin men (via alphabet)

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: Movie nights with the modern genshin boys <3

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Headcanons! I love! Headcanons!! I'm writing this before I write for any other character so.. I hope I have enough tags available for everyone 💔💔

☆ ALBEDO ☆

— Albedo would usually watch something more educational, but when you're with him, he's open to most things. Usually, when the movie's not too dramatic or action based, he'll lean onto the arm of the couch and let you lean on him. It's basically the same when it's action based and/or dramatic, even with horror movies, because no matter how gorey it gets, Albedo would remain unphased. He'd let you hug him if need be, though.

Educational, though? Lay your head on his shoulder and fall asleep if you want, but he's taking notes.

☆ ALHAITHAM ☆

— Unphased by any movie, but amused by your reactions and/or commentary. He physically could not care less about the movie. Sometimes, it's interesting, but most of the time, his eyes are on you, his phone, or a book. He would only mildly care if it was My Little Pony or something, but other than that, he doesn't care. Alhaitham would only agree simply because you're cute when you're invested. Especially with horror films. When you're scared, he just loves to tease you.

He'd let you hold him most of the time, but when he feels a jumpscare coming up, he'll "leave for the bathroom," but just secretly watch your face when it comes up, internally laughing if you jump at the sight.

☆ AYATO ☆

— Please, he would be all over dramas. Ayato already loves watching people's faces as he pulls the strings, but to see other people do so and see the result of their actions with so much drama at detail? It's delightful and heavenly. He wouldn't be super straightforward with it, but he'll definitely chuckle or smile deviously when he sees a plan in action. Still, sometimes he'll turn his eyes away from the television and look at you, especially when you're invested.

Immediately, he'll tell you to put your arms around him and cuddle with him while you both watch the movie or series. It's a very comfortable way for him to enjoy the television tension, all the while enjoying and basking in your presence.

☆ BAIZHU ☆

— In all absolute, pure honesty, I don't know what he'd be into. Baizhu would definitely watch whatever you put on, but he'll probably like watching dramas or movies with some sort of injury or medical condition because he'll definitely make comments on the things that the character(s) do. He'd probably spontaneously sit down and turn on the TV to watch something he found interesting and then invite you to join him, though you'd probably invite yourself in anyway.

By the way, you'll probably fall asleep mid-movie, especially if it's a documentary, but that's because his voice is extra soothing when he makes comments. It sort of... puts you to sleep? Oh well. Nice voice :)

☆ BENNETT ☆

— He's so invested! It's adorable <3

Whenever Bennett hears the words "movie night," his reaction is akin to that of a dog's when they see a treat. He'll cheer, yipee, and then he'll hop onto the couch, excited for the movie and to snuggle up with you. He really liked action movies, and while he doesn't mind romance or dramas, he'd prefer if it was more intense.

Still, don't let him near horror movies. He'd absolutely crumble just watching one. Bennett would cling to you and nearly begin to cry when— of course, mid jumpscare, thunder strikes outside, and the lights go out. Good luck out there, because you'll have a terrified, teary Bennett clinging to your arm as you both try to find a way to fix the issue.

☆ CHILDE ☆

— I feel like... when Childe sees a cool move in an action movie, he would immediately tries to replicate it, but add 10x more pizazz. He would also critique how someone uses weapons or how someone fights. Other than that, he's just there to sit down, lay down, and hug his love to death! Childe would be very unphased when seeing any gore, heavy or not. But when he watches a Pixar of Disney film that's wholesome and has the most bittersweet, tearful ending, he might start crying. He'd play it cocky, acting like he doesn't care, but at the end, he'll go quiet because there's a little tear trickling down his cheek.

He'll never admit defeat, though. No way he's cried to these movies more than you have!

☆ CHONGYUN ☆

— He does enjoy movies, but he does explicitly ask that they're not on super interesting topics or that they're not too exciting. Otherwise, he'll literally lose himself. This also includes horror films that feature ghosts. Chongyun still remembers when he'd watch little childish cartoons as a kid, of course, before he started training to be an exorcist. He would watch simple little children's shows, and once his friends came over— only to see Chongyun running around and getting all ecstatic whenever he would answer a question right from the cartoon.

Once, you wanted to tease him, so you had Chongyun close his eyes as you selected one of his old favorites. He'll open his eyes to see the character that he once deemed as his superhero. Chongyun hasn't ever let you near the remote after that.

☆ CYNO ☆

— He's definitely going to sleep through movies. No matter how interesting or intense the plot is, Cyno will always fall asleep during the most important climaxes of the movie. He does his best to stay awake, but because of his job and because of his semi-lack of interest in the movie, he's drifting off anyway.

Sometimes, when you're watching a horror film with Cyno, he'll stay awake to comfort you, but on the occasion where he doesn't, have fun fending for yourself. He's not going to wake up 100% if you scream or yell, and the best part? Sometimes Cyno is awake, but he doesn't do anything because you're adorable when you cling to him.

☆ DILUC ☆

— He's chill with anything as long as it's not My Little Pony or any straightforward kids' movies. Actually, Diluc would probably find himself invested in Marvel movies or the batman series. Any action movie would have him sit up, rest his chin atop his hands, and stare intensely at the screen. Diluc nearly starts glaring at it, but you know that it's just his RBF. He would probably have you sit on his lap or something, either that or you just lean your entire body on him, and he'll sit there, unphased.

Also, if you ever watch a horror movie with him, rest assured, Diluc will pause the movie if you get too scared. He'll let you take a break for a bit, get some tea or hot cocoa, and then he'll resume. If you don't want to watch it anymore, he'll advise you to put on music and go into another room because he'd like to finish the movie.

☆ FREMINET ☆

— Freminet would love things from Pixar, Disney, any fantastic fairy-tale or wholesome story. He won't force you to watch if you don't want to, but if you're willing, he'd be so giddy inside. Freminet would never tell you, of course, but if you took your eyes off of the TV and looked at his face, his eyes would glow brighter than the screen.

He'd cuddle with you under blankets and watch the movie, but he'll also be holding Pers close to him when watching, and he'll probably give him a little (gentle) squeeze whenever there's a depressing point in the movie. Oh well, he'll have his best friend Pers and you, his lover, to be there by his side when things get sad. There'll be a happy ending to look forward to anyways, right?

☆ GOROU ☆

— He's really fine with anything, except for horror movies. Trust me, Gorou will lie all he can about his taste in movies, but you'll never miss how his eyes glow when something sweet or wholesome comes up. He doesn't mind action movies and dramas, but when a wholesome moment in the movie shows up, his excitement is parallel to that of a lonely dog finally seeing its owner again. Gorou would let you hold him, and he'd hold you too, and as long as you're into the movie and holding him close, he doesn't care what movie you two watch.

...Until a horror movie starts playing. He says he doesn't care; he swears it. Yet, no matter how many times he tries to convince you that he doesn't care, he'll always shriek at jumpscares. He'd jump at the slightest of scares but scream at bigger ones. Be careful and try not to let your ears explode!

☆ HEIZOU ☆

— True crime. Murder mysteries. Documentaries. No questions asked. Heizou would absolutely research movies and anything interesting when you announce movie night, and he'd find the most appealing thing to watch. If there's nothing interesting that day, which seldom ever happens, he'd just play something dramatic with a lot of action, and he'd hold you close while being super reactive about each scene.

Heizou would be such an English teacher about it. Anything remotely eye-catching or eyebrow-raising would be the highlight of the movie until the next interesting thing happens. If you don't mind, great! If you do, shut him up with kisses. It works every time. Sometimes, it works a little too much...

☆ ITTO ☆

— It's either he watches something super fantastical and wonderful with you, something that pumps him up with pure unicorn energy, or he watches something intriguing... and falls asleep halfway through the movie. Oh, and of course, Itto will always somehow manage to fall asleep on you, regardless of your height. It'd be nice to hold him, but he's too jumpy for that. He fiddles in his seat, gets loud and excited, and to be honest, you're probably all for it. If not, a quick lecture and a kiss will do the trick for a good five minutes or so.

Still, it's wholesome when Itto gets all melted and almost gushy when things get nice in the movie. He wouldn't like romances, but with something like a Pixar movie, he'd definitely start tearing up— albeit he would never admit that. It's also quite peaceful when he's asleep in your arms. You get to finish the movie while he's sound asleep, either on you or shoved to the side of the couch (lovingly).

Oh, also, don't watch horror movies with him. It's all he'll ever be able to think about for the next two weeks.

☆ KAEYA ☆

— Kaeya would watch the movie– he doesn't entirely care what movie, but he'll only watch it to wait for the perfect moments for flirting with / teasing you. That's if the movie isn't too interesting to him, but he likes having an excuse to see your flustered face. Kaeya enjoys seeing your eyes tear from the screen and find their way to him; it's extra amusing to watch.

But he still relishes in your presence. Though he may never show it, being around you makes him feel complete. Kaeya can be real around you, and he can finally let his guard down without a drink or two. He loves movie nights, as they're just an extra excuse to spend some time with you.

☆ KAVEH ☆

— He's such a romantic movie guy. Kaveh wouldn't be too into action-based movies, but he would absolutely love dramas. As long as the plot doesn't suck and it's dramatic— extra points if it's romantic— he will absolutely love it. When cuddling with you and holding you close, he'll be pointing out key information or anything intriguing that happens, or that is said. Something about the drama fuels him, and if he would allow himself to, he'd start kicking his feet around with pure excitement. But he'll control himself. For you.

Anyways, Kaveh and horror movies could go two ways. He'll be cocky at first for both ways, but he might end up terrified, screaming to terrifying things and clinging onto you in fear for his life. But there's the rare chance where he's so invested that he just looks possessed by the movie. He'll sit up straight with both hands on both legs, and he'll just stare blankly at the screen. It somewhat scares you, but he'll snap out of it if you say his name. Albeit he'll revert back to his usual self, terrified of everything after his mini trance.

☆ KAZUHA ☆

— He's so chill; it's unreal. Kazuha would be invested and whatnot, but he wouldn't be super surprised unless there's a huge plot twist. Quick note that he would genuinely be the best cuddler in this list, and if you don't want to be held / hold him, then that's okay, too! At some point, though, he'll let go of you and just watch the movie when it gets really intense, but you can hold him whenever that happens. Kazuha would also have a lot to say about... anything, really. He's big on commentary, but his voice is so soothing that you simply don't care.

Fair warning, though. Should there ever be a sad moment where a character loses their best friend, Kazuha may go quiet, depending on how sad the moment is. If it's dramatic, extra sorrowful, then he will absolutely stay silent until something else catches his mind.

☆ KUNI (WANDERER) ☆

— Kuni would make fun of your movie taste half of the time, especially if he finds them distasteful, so he'll usually pick the movies. He wouldn't automatically cuddle with you, though, and at most, he would let you rest your head on his shoulder, or he would let you hold his hand, but he would not move an INCH during those times. He would also be rather... stony faced when watching movies, except for times he'd gag at romantic scenes or complain about how there's too much gore.

If you fell asleep during a movie, Kuni would watch only a minute or so more to see if it catches his interest, but then he'll pause and turn off the TV to hold you close to him secretly. He thinks you're adorable, and he thinks the movie is irrelevant in comparison to just being with you.

☆ LYNEY ☆

— He'd watch most things, and he'll be extra open to movie genres, as long as he's with you. Lyney wouldn't mind if it bored him because he'll have you to hold and keep him company! What better than to be snuggling with your own lover than... watching a documentary on how paper is made. But whatever, he thinks, he'd take this over children's shows. Also, he'd be really expressive with whatever happens in the movies, like in dramas, he would be shocked at plot twists or suspension build-ups... he would also be quite scared and horror movies that he would find scary.

To be honest, Lyney wouldn't really find most horror movies scary, but when it's on a topic he's somewhat sensitive about, and especially when it's a psychological horror movie, he would be scarred for a few days. No more carefree magician Lyney for the time being, you'd suppose.

☆ NEUVILLETTE ☆

— It's hard to tell what he's into. Neuvillette could like court cases or mysteries, but maybe he would like to watch something that takes his mind off of work. You're well aware that Neuvillette seldom ever gets the chance for a break, so watching something wholesome might be up his alley for relaxing, especially with you. Just be sure he won't cry at super sad scenes; you might have to skim through the movie first. Otherwise, you'll get an upset lover instead of a relaxed one. By the way, he wouldn't, again, be too into horror movies. They're scary, maybe to you, but he's somehow unphased by the terror. He'd only feel for any lives lost at the hands of the antagonist(s).

Anyways, I can't see him being too into cuddles like other people would be, but he wouldn't mind hugs or hand-holding. He'd let you lean on his arm or shoulder if you're tall enough, and maybe when you do, you'll be lucky to feel his tense shoulders relax themselves for once.

☆ THOMA ☆

— Loves loves, loves commentary, but will quiet down when something big happens. Thoma would be expressive. He'll show he's shocked when he's shocked; he'll show his sorrow when there's sorrow. Funnily enough, he won't say much when something wholesome happens in the movie, but he'll definitely smile and/or chuckle at the sweetness.

Just beware: he likes theorizing with murder mysteries / horror movies. If Thoma feels like this or that is gonna happen, he might blurt it out loud. Or maybe if he thinks the ending will go like this or perhaps like that, then that will also be spoiled, too. If you like commentary, great! If you don't, politely kiss him on the cheek and make it known.

☆ TIGHNARI ☆

— He's so critical, it's everything. Unless Tighnari genuinely likes the movie, any flaws in the acting or in the plot that he finds, he will comment on. He almost lectures the screen on how to make the movie better and how to make the plot more effective / attractive for the viewers. He'll even throw in some sarcastic remarks here and there, but when it gets good, it gets good. If you like the movie, he'll shit on it just a little bit, but he won't really care or judge you for it. Just don't force him to watch something like Dora. Otherwise, he won't trust you on movie night selection for a while.

Tighnari isn't crazy about cuddles while watching because most of his attention is focused on the TV, but he doesn't mind romantic gestures like, say, holding his hands, or maybe even running your fingers through his tail, sometimes it gets him to quiet down and just watch the movie. It's soothing, you're soothing, the couch is soothing, and he isn't. Well, for watching movies he isn't.

☆ VENTI ☆

— He's drunk and watching Frozen with you, no questions asked. Venti would absolutely love childrens movies, not just because the plots are near harmless and easy to follow, but because there are usually songs and good sound tracks to them that he could sing along to, and with a breath that smells of wine and a heart full of passion, he will sing: “Let it goooo, let it gooo!! Can't hold it back anymoooore–”

Anyways, when Venti recovers from his fun little goofy private concern, he'll plop back down on the couch and just wrap his entire being around you. He'll hold you so tight, but it's Venti, so you don't mind too much. He'll say a few things here and there, express a few opinions and theories on the movie, but not too much. Just enough that you know he's paying attention to the movie and not just you, but not too much where he bombards you with a little detective hat on his head, and he starts analyzing everything. Not that you would mind, though... Right?

☆ WRIOTHESLEY ☆

— He seems like the type of person to watch things on criminal cases and whatnot, but honestly? Wriothesley's down for anything. He finally has a break, and he wants it to be spent well, so he'll watch whatever you want to watch with him, but he'll always give his second opinion before the actual selection. He doesn't care what genre to be honest, he's really only there because you're watching a movie with him and he gets a good hour or so of time to just cuddle with you while watching something. Just, if you want him to stay awake, listen to his opinions and select something that the both of you would enjoy. Also, don't fall asleep either because he may or may not fall asleep with you, too.

That fact alone is really sweet, considering the things he might have to hear as a prison guard. Wriothesley would hear the inmates sneer at him and insult him either to his face or behind his back, and having to go through that every day as a job can be rough every so often, so just being able to watch something nice with you in his arms is quite the refreshment.

☆ XIAO ☆

— He's not a big movie person, and he's already well picky enough, so be wise with picking movies! Don't watch horror movies with Xiao, but don't watch something too comical or dramatic. Something more mundane may suit him, strangely enough. He's not too big with romance, but something wholesome like a Hallmarks Christmas movie would bring the slightest and most subtle of smiles on his face. Your presence is honestly one of the biggest contributing factors, though.

Xiao would 100% enjoy the movie more if you're expressive. Not over the top where you jump out of the couch every five minutes, but as long as you're not stone faced and you find yourself smiling or tearing up at times, it makes things a little better for him. Your smile is infectious to him, anyway. So, key tip? Smile when something sweet happens, Xiao will glance from the TV to you and see your smile, and his heart will immediately swell with pure adoration.

☆ XINQIU ☆

— He always looks forward to movie night. Not just because he can watch movies and cool films with you, but because he's written and read so many romance novels that he's just trying his best to recreate them. Xinqiu would pick old romantic movies or (occasionally) horror movies whenever he felt like being smooth. Of course, horror movies seldom ever work out because one of you ends up jumping on the other, eyes filled with tears and lips trembling like there's no tomorrow.

It's fun, though. You know Xinqiu well enough that you automatically see through his plans whenever he picks out a movie. You enjoy messing around and "innocently" making him improvise the plan, catching him off guard when you make the first move or do more romantic gestures. Eventually, you'll just kiss him and say that you simply want to watch the movie with him normally, and he'll agree... for the most part.

☆ ZHONGLI ☆

— He's an oldie, old-fashioned with his way of holding you when you're both on the couch, watching whatever films pique your interests. Zhongli's willing to know more about how movies are now, so he'll usually let you pick the movies for the night, and he'll watch the nostalgic, old, heartwarming ones on his own so to not bore you. But if he finds out you're into them, then he'll let himself pick the movies occasionally, and he'll watch them with you. Still, he doesn't watch movies too often. He'd prefer to do things that involve more interaction, but movies can be quite nice.

It'd also be a great idea to not watch any horror movies with him because he's just... stoic. Throughout them. He'll comfort you if you're scared, but he'll wonder why people like horror movies when watching them. Unless it's based on real cases, then he'll be interested. Zhongli will be sure to hold you closer to them, though. It's nice for him to know that you're with him; you love him; you're safe here with him.

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fiction-is-life · 1 year

Note

Congratulations on 500 non-bot followers! I just joined the ranks after reading the angstly little treat you did for @eleanor-bradstreet 🤩

I would like to request a blurb for Anthony from your prompt list. #8 - "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while."

This is so fun!

Trapped and Titillated

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the follow, love, and for your kind words! I am so glad you liked Touchstone of Our Character! I had so much fun writing this request; it is quite a bit longer than a blurb, but I hope that makes up for the fact it has taken me so long to write it! Enjoy!

Summary: You are trapped with the Viscount.

Warnings: Angst, getting locked in a room, verbal fighting, steamy make out session, brotherly teasing

The door wouldn’t budge. Oh, I knew when that latch clicked, I was doomed. Utterly doomed. And it was all his fault.

“Well, you have done it now, my lord,” I seethed, letting the veneer of polite reserve fall away. It was always thin around him anyway.

Anthony Bridgerton had the audacity to raise one perfect, dark brow. “I have done it?” he intoned, his voice cutting through my rising panic, reinforcing who I was angry at.

“Yes,” I hissed. “You shut the door behind you, and now it is jammed. It may be hours before someone comes by and finds us, and what then?”

He took a step towards me, matching the one I had subconsciously taken, bringing us closer than society would deem acceptable. “As far as I am concerned, I have only done what was my right. This is my library in my home, and I may shut any door I please.”

“Not when an unmarried young lady is in said library - unaccompanied. Or have you forgotten the rules of the Ton while you were busy raking about the kingdom?” I knew I had struck my mark when I saw the Viscount’s eyes darken, his whole body tensing.

“Miss (Y/L/N), you do not know of what you speak,” he said through clenched teeth, and I shivered from the ice in his tone. Anthony certainly did not miss it. “I was raised a gentleman, Miss (Y/L/N), as a member of one of the most respected families in all of England, no less.”

I scoffed and raised my chin and matched his stance. We were practically nose-to-nose with each other. “Well, there must be an exception to every rule, my lord, and I suppose you are it.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them, terrified at the way his features turned from red-hot anger to a cold, stony silence. I took a shaky breath. “M-my lord, I apologize. I believe I am overwrought from the events of today. Please forgive me,” I spoke in a rush, not daring to make eye contact with those dark depths again.

A long moment passed before he cleared his throat, his complexion returned to a more normal hue but his posture still stiff. “It looks like we'll be trapped for a while, Miss (Y/L/N). We may as well make ourselves comfortable," he spoke in a clipped, quiet tone. For some odd reason, I wished he would have yelled instead.

He must have noticed the look of panicked confusion on my face as I alternated between staring at him and the couches near the fire. “Do not fear, Miss (Y/L/N), I shall strive to reign in my more ungentlemanly urges. Your virtue is safe from me.”

I bit my lip, nodding at his words. They were what I wanted to hear. Right? Oh, dash it! I had never been prone to hysterics before, but something about being this close to the Viscount was making my thoughts and feelings a muddle. So, I did the only thing that felt safe.

I pretended to read.

I believed it was working, too. That is, until the Viscount cleared his throat again. I wanted to roll my eyes at the realization that the smallest of his gestures still commanded attention. I was looked over during a one-on-one conversation, but Lord Anthony Bridgerton could simply breathe in a certain way and every head would turn.

“Is there something you need, my lord?” I asked, my eyes still blindly trained on the pages in front of me so that I missed his growing smirk.

“You must be a great reader, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said.

I raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Yes, I do love a good book,” I returned, turning the page.

“You are most certainly a more avid reader than I.”

That made me look up at him, confusion wrinkling my brow. “Why do you say that, my lord?”

He openly smiled now, allowing me to see that little dimple in his one cheek. “I have never mastered the art of reading words that are upside-down.”

“What?” I looked down and finally saw what book I had picked up. It was a tome on new farming practices, and it was indeed upside down.

Well, I could not let him win that easily. “I find I absorb the words much better when it is more difficult to read them.” I looked down my nose as I had seen many women do. “I believe it is important to challenge oneself, so one does not become ignorant and vain.”

His features twisted into a wry grin. “Very true, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said in a tight voice. He crossed over to the sofa I was sitting on and sat down - far too close for comfort. “What are other pursuits that you find are challenging enough, may I ask?”

I knew he was goading me, but I simply could not back down from his challenge. “Any activities I find rewarding, I suppose.” I closed the book and tilted my head, staring him in the eye. “Making sound investments, helping run the household, volunteering for charities,” I listed, not even trying to mask the smugness in my tone. “Basically anything that contributes to society, unlike spending every night at gaming hells or with ladies of the night or -”

His lips crashed onto mine, cutting me off. I felt positively surrounded by him as he crushed me into the back of the sofa, his strong arms encircling my waist and pulling me into him. He smelled of bay rum and mint, and it was utterly intoxicating.

At first, I was too shocked to react, but as his lips moved insistently on my own, I started to follow his lead. He growled when I parted my lips, and my eyes shot open when he darted his tongue into my mouth, but it felt too good to pull away. So, I pulled him closer.

My hands tangled in his dark locks, and when my fingers caught on a knot, Anthony pulled back slightly, moaning. I gasped and pulled back. “Did I hurt you, my lord?” I asked, concerned.

He groaned again, his eyes darkening further. “Call me that again,” he growled, panting heavily.

My face twisted in confusion. “My lord?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his lips finding mine again. His hands wandered this time, sending pings of pleasure straight to my core. I couldn’t hold back my own noises when his strong hands found my breasts, my nipples pebbling embarrassingly.

I lost track of time as Anthony peppered wet kisses down my neck and over the swells of my breasts where my dress did not cover them. He started to work his hand under the skirt of my dress when a crash was heard on the other side of the library.

“Brother! Are you in here? I need to get away from all of the matchmaking endeavours mother has concocted,” the voice of Anthony’s brother, Benedict, was heard. Anthony’s head snapped up, a panicked look in his eyes.

“Stay here. I shall get rid of him,” Anthony whispered before rising from the sofa, straightening his jacket where I had mussed it. “Brother. You find me at an inopportune time. I was just leaving,” he called out to his brother, trying to prevent him from seeing me.

“Why? You already met with the steward this morning. You have nothing else planned until dinner.” Even I could hear the skepticism in Benedict’s voice as it grew closer.

“Well, yes, but I thought I might go for a ride,” Anthony hedged.

“Wonderful! I shall join you!”

“No!” Anthony shouted. “I mean, I was wishing to ride out alone this time,” he finished in a more tempered tone.

There was a long pause where I thought Benedict just may have believed the lie. “Are you sure you want to be alone? Because I think Miss (Y/L/N) might disagree.” I gasped. “I shall see you at dinner, brother, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, a door closing behind him shortly after.

I sat up with a huff, my cheeks flaming a brighter red than they had been before. “I am sorry; I did not think anyone would follow me here -”

“What door did he come through?” I interrupted what was sure to be a very eloquent apology.

Now, the Viscount’s cheeks turned red and he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Well, um, he used the hidden entrance in the south wall.”

“Oh, you cad!” I screamed. “Open it. Now, my lord.”

Anthony silently moved toward the south wall, pulling a certain book back to reveal a hidden door. I gathered my dignity about me as I fixed my skirts. I caught a whiff of his cologne once more as I passed him, and for a brief moment, I wanted to turn back. Instead, I held my head high, giving the Viscount one of those superior looks other ladies had mastered. I wanted him to know I was not to be trifled with.

But I knew this was not the end of my encounters with the Viscount.

My Masterlist

#500 Followers Celebration #answered asks #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton smut #bridgerton fanfiction

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latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 9 months

Text

⌗︙・⚠︎ being intimidated by love-struck and obsessed wriothesley ⚠︎ ♡⸝⸝

Wriothesley is aware of how intimidating he is.

Sometimes he doesn't even mean to be, and he feels a bit guilty about it. Given his stoic and less-than-inviting expressions, he doesn't blame the average person for flinching in his presence whenever they notice him in the vicinity. Hell, he's accidentally given the staff at some of the restaurants he frequents a bit of a fright from his tone and expression alone. And all because he had been simply inquiring about his meal, as it had taken longer than usual to be brought out.

But his seemingly unapproachable manner doesn't mean that Wriothesly doesn't attract his fair share of admirers and potential suitors. He'd have to be a fool to not see the lovestruck stares that were thrown his way by certain individuals, to not hear the hushed whispers of admirers fawning over his attractive features and squealing whenever he'd coldly glance their way for a split second. He isn't one to let all of that admiration inflate his ego, let alone pay much attention to it, to begin with. If at all, he'd rather avoid people's attention, much preferring to enjoy the quietness of solitude.

But he doesn't care about any one of them. Wriothesly only cares about you—his eyes are reserved for you and you alone.

Love-struck gazes on your form are often what he finds himself doing a good majority of his time, his heart beating so hard—so painfully loud—that he feels dizzy by just looking at you. Wriothesly looks at you as if you're the very reason he takes each breath, the reason why he wakes up and gets up out of bed, the very reason why he lives on. Sometimes if he catches himself passing by a mirror after having seen you, his cheeks and even ears are tinged with blush. To the unsuspecting eye, the dark haired male is more akin to a happy dog having received a treat for being good, his gentle smile and softened eyes making him look nothing like the intimidating man he is supposed to be.

But his lovesick puppy gazes fade away upon seeing you with somebody else, somebody else making you smile and laugh in a way that makes his belly fill with warmth but is quickly snuffed out once he remembers that your sweet laughter is not for him. Jealously rears its rotten, ugly head within Wriothesly's gaze, sick thoughts coiling to fruition within his mind. He cannot stand the thought, let alone the sight, of you interacting so merrily with someone that is not him. If looks could kill, then the bastard would have long since torn to pieces, left as a bloody pile heaped upon the ground long ago. He ends up crushing the fragile tea he'd been holding in his hand to pieces from the raw anger surging through his veins.

But it is not just possessiveness that fuels his obsession with you. It is envy—envy that others could make you laugh and grin so merrily in ways that he cannot. You are uneasy around him, unwilling to spare him one of your smiles that renders him a clumsy fool.

Self-hatred festers inside him every time you flinch in his presence, how when he does manage to ease a measly excuse of a conversation from you, you don't even look him in the eyes—the dust gathering in the dingy corner of a room is far better than looking at him. He supposes that your less-than-stellar first meeting has something to do with your wariness around him, as well as his frightening demeanor and voice—he sometimes forgets that he comes off as scary to you even if that was far from what he was intending.

But Wriothesly can only hold in his suppressed feelings for so long. He's only human, and even he has his limits too after all, no matter how standoffish and collected he appears on the surface. He wants nothing more than to lose himself in your warm embrace, bury his nose in the side of your neck and soak in the tranquility of being so intimately close to you without having to worry about scaring you off once again. Those daydreams that leave him shuddering with need and wanting more can hardly suffice anymore.

Wriothesley is uncertain for how much longer he could possibly hold in his festering feelings.

#lati thirsts #tw yandere #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #yandere wriothesley #written before the release of fontaine so pardon the potential inaccuracies #once we get him then i can rewrite this to make it more accurate

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

Familiar & Unfamiliar

din djarin x female!reader

warning: attempted sexual assault (not by our boy mando, and i don’t describe it in depth the furthest it goes is non-consensual kissing), light smut, angst then comfort, then fluff fluff fluff, identity theft, mentions of slave trade, canon violence, dom!din trying hard to be sub!din for you, he doesn’t succeed for long

word count: 4,174

Summary: You travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian who is much softer than his impenetrable beskar would lead others to believe. He leaves you with his son to search for a Quarry, but it’s not the Mando you’ve come to know and love who returns to you.

“It shouldn’t take long.” Mando hummed as he collected his gear from his weapon’s storage. You sat cross legged on the Razor Crest’s floor with the child in your lap. His small green hand played with the small, metal ball he seemed to always find. Your hand stroked his ears only stopping to push the ball away from his mouth when he began to try and chew on it. Mando turned around to stare down at you. “Will you be alright here?”

After traveling with the Mandalorian for the last two months, babysitting and completing repairs on the ship, you had finally grown accustomed to the silver beskar covered man. Initially it had been difficult for you to even look at the man for longer than a second⏤ too intimidated by the black t-shape visor that stared back at you. However, joining him had been your only option at the time, an act of self preservation, so you had to push your fear aside. Luckily, you had quickly learned that though the metal he was covered in was impossible to penetrate, the man underneath was as soft as they come.

You learned that the solemn, silent, and dangerous facade Mando wore was more or less an interpretation of what people saw. Yes, he was dangerous. You had seen him wrestle quarries three time his size and come out unscathed, but you had also seen him humming a song under his breath while giving the child a bath. You had seen Mando go out of his way to purchase you a new pair of boots in the market simply because he noticed your discomfort with your current pair. The brief times you felt his touch, a brush against your arm or a hand on your back, it was soft and comforting. His eyes were impossible to see behind his helmet, but you could feel the care in his gaze. Having Mando’s attention on you felt like safety.

Mando called out your name and you blinked in surprise. “Oh, um, yeah! We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“I shouldn’t be gone long. Days at most.” He reassured before you could even ask. You stood up and Mando drifted closer⏤ his gloved hand reached out brush the child’s head. Mando chuckled when his son cooed and giggled in response. You heard a long time ago that the best judge of a person’s character was how they treated animals and children. Mando passed that test with flying colors. “You remember the rules?”

“Hmm, no running with scissors?” You joked. Mando tilted his head and you chuckled. “Don’t open the Razor Crest’s ramp for anyone but you, and if I do have to leave for some emergency, get to a crowded spot with plenty of witnesses and talk to no one. Not until you come for us.”

Mando nodded in approval. He gave the child’s head one last pet along the ears and as his hand pulled away you felt his leather covered fingers drag down the length of your bare arm. Heat crept up the back of your neck and you prayed to any deity that was listening that Mando hadn’t heard the hitch in your breath. You were not attracted to your metal armored Mandalorian employer and friend. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Without another word, Mando made his way to the back of the cargo hold. He opened the ramp before heading down and you called out for him to be careful. Mando glanced over his shoulder, at you and the child, and you waved. You stood at the cargo hold’s edge as Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet and the ramp began to rise. As the metal door rose, you stared at the mandalorian’s back until the ramp cut him off from sight.

Din was more distracted than usual and he told himself it wasn’t because of the newest addition to the Razor Crest. It obviously wasn’t because of you. No, he was just busy with all the bounties he was juggling and the stress of trying to find the child’s people. Then the added dilemma of his current quarry. Already he had been on the flesh trader’s trail for three days. Three full days. That was nothing in comparison to past hunts that would take him weeks on end, but Din found his patience wearing very, very thin.

“Are you ready yet, mate?” A voice asked through the closed door.

Din had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His only lead came from a mercenary who was hunting an Inner Rim politician that had come all the way out here to participate in the slave trade. It was the only access Din would have to get into the market to find his quarry and it came at a cost. Din glanced down at the helmet held in his hands. It was an oddly shaped red thing from Kaleesh culture. His new mercenary partner made it very clear that if he walked in as a Mandalorian everything would be lost. On any normal bounty Din would’ve risked it anyways. There was very little in the galaxy that could coax him out of his armor, leave him bare to the world, but a child in danger did it.

A mother had come to him after he searched for a lead in the local cantina on his first night. She had fallen to her knees in front of him and begged for his help⏤ she offered everything she owned and more in return. Her only child, an eleven year old little girl, had been stolen away from her. Dragged to the flesh market to be sold. Din swore to her that he’d bring her back. On his word as a Mandalorian, she would be reunited with her daughter. He just wasn’t allowed to do it looking like a Mandalorian.

“Seriously, mate, we’re going to be late!” Trigg, the mercenary, barked once more.

Din settled the helmet over his head and shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t fit quite like his real one did, but it was tight enough that he wasn’t worried about it falling off in the heat of battle. For a second, he just stared at himself in the mirror. Red armor of cloth and leather covered every inch of his skin, black gloves pulled on tight, and his oddly shaped helmet covered his face entirely. Din hated it more than anything. But, the sooner he saved the girl and caught his quarry, the sooner he could return to his ship. Return to the child and you.

“I’ll be right out.” Din called back. He settled all his beskar armor pieces into the tarp bag he had borrowed from the child’s mother. It was her home they were using as a base of sorts. Din hid the bag in the closet of the room behind a stack of boxes. It made him anxious to leave his armor behind, but he forced himself to step away and open the door.

Trigg stood in the hall wearing his own personal gear. The blond man had scars from a raking claw on the side of his head leaving those patches with sparse hair. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stared at Din in a mix of annoyance and impatience. “Finally. Did you have to do your hair?”

“It’s you we’re waiting on now.” Din replied dryly as he marched past the man to the door.

The sooner, the better.

Night had fallen for the third night of Mando being gone. It was too soon for you to be worried about him, but a ball of anxiety still sat in your gut. He had been away for longer periods of time before. The longest thus far being three weeks. You were mumbling a soft song under your breath as you rocked the child to sleep. When his eyes drifted close, you carefully set him in the hammock above Mando’s bunk and tucked a blanket around him.

When you were certain that the kid was settled, you drifted toward the fresher to get ready for bed yourself. You wondered what it would take to convince Mando to pick up a bounty on a planet with an ocean soon. Going from the lava plains of Nevarro to the deserts of Tatooine and now this dusty Outer Rim world was bleak. You missed water. You had grown up near a river on your homeworld and spent a decent amount of time there. It wasn’t until you saw dry planet after dry planet that you truly began to appreciate natural bodies of water.

You shrugged out of your clothes, tossing them aside, and slid into a pair of shorts and one of Mando’s shirts. It had been borrowed early on in your travels and now it belonged more to you than it did him. The dark shirt was large enough to cover most of your shorts. You had been in the middle of washing your face when you heard the tell tale sound of the ramp. Quickly, you grabbed a towel and dried your face while rushing out of the fresher.

Mando was walking up the ramp just as you entered the cargo hold and you shot him a smile, “Hey, Mando.” He came to a sudden stop. You glanced around but saw no evidence of a quarry behind or near him. Had they gotten away? “What happened with the quarry?”

The Mandalorian crossed his arms and a nervous energy settled over your skin. The way he stood just seemed…off. And, the silence that surrounded him wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet you had grown used to. Mando’s helmet tilted some, as if his eyes were raking over your form, and you tugged on the bottom of your shirt anxiously. This was an outfit you wore to sleep every night on the Razor Crest, but right now was the first time you felt uncomfortable having it on around Mando.

“Are you⏤Are you injured?” You asked.

Mando strolled closer to you. Another bit of him that wasn’t right⏤ his gait. As you tried to gather your thoughts, he came to a stop right in front of you. Nearly chest to chest. A lump had formed in your throat, mouth dry, and you tried to swallow it down. Being around Mando always made your stomach feel as if it were filled with butterflies, made your heart race out of your chest, made an addicting warmth pool in your core.

That was not how you felt right now.

Your hand reached out, as quickly as you could manage it, and slammed against the lock button of Mando’s bunk. The metal door slid down. It clicked into place, and the Mandalorian in front of you grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back until you slammed into the Razor Crest’s wall. You clawed at the familiar, gloved hand tightening around your throat as a low, unfamiliar chuckle rumbled through the modulator.

“What’s wrong, baby?” A voice that did not belong to your Mandalorian asked. “Aren’t you happy to see me? You were a minute ago.”

“Wh⏤Who⏤” You tried to spit out but you could barely breathe let alone form words.

“I’m your Mandalorian, baby.” The cruel laugh coming out from behind the t-shape visor you found comfort in felt so very wrong. He yanked you off the wall and released your throat. You managed to gasp a single breath of air before he backhanded you across the face hard enough to see stars. You fell to your knees and elbows roughly, a cry of pain leaving your lips, but you struggled to find a weapon of any kind. “That’s right. Crawl away, baby. Run. I’m a Mandalorian who likes to hunt, and now you’re my prey. How’s that sound?”

Your hand found a screwdriver, lying off to the side where you had been working on something under the floorboard earlier, just as he kicked you in the side to flip you over. The imposter knelt on the ground over you and you tried to stab him where only the flight suit sat. Unfortunately, he turned fast enough that the screwdriver struck beskar and did absolutely nothing. He laughed once more as you gave up the attack to try and slip away, but he grabbed your hands by the wrist and pinned you to the ground. The imposter sat on top of your thighs, kneeling over you, and you were forced to stare at your reflection in Mando’s armor.

It would be a bold faced lie for you to say you hadn’t daydreamed about having the beskar armor on top of you⏤ the weight of it pressing into you in every delicious way you could think of. But not like this. Not with a stranger inside of it.

“Who knew the ship came with such a pretty little whore.” The imposter hummed. He shifted your arms so he could pin both your wrists with one hand. With his other, he grasped the bottom of the beskar helmet and pulled it off. The man’s eyes were a piercing blue. Cold and cruel. Blond hair covered his scalp except on the side of his head where the scars of what looked like claw marks sat. He tossed the helmet aside and gave you a sickening grin. “Is that what you’re here for? You keep the Mandalorian’s bed warm? Let him fuck you when he’s done with a hunt?”

“Get the kriff off of me!” You struggled against his grip, against his touch, but nothing seemed to deter him from using his other hand to run over your body. You screamed until you were hoarse and when you cried out for Mando the man sitting on top of you just laughed. Faintly, you could hear frantic tapping behind Mando’s bunk door and fear struck you. Was the child awake? He wouldn’t be able to unlock the door from inside you didn’t think.

It seemed the imposter was too immersed in you to hear the sound.

“How about this,” The man leaned closer into your space, “I get a quick taste of you now, and then, once we’re up and in hyperspace, I’ll fuck you better than your Mando ever could, yeah?”

His lips crashed down on yours roughly. You tried to turn your face away, but the imposter bit down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Between the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue and the smell of his rancid breath you were going to be sick. You gasped in pain and he took advantage by shoving his tongue into your mouth. He pressed his hips down into you, grinding against your stomach now, and the feel of his erection pressing into you made a horrified sob slip form you. It seemed to only spurn him on further. He let go of one of your hands to grasp at the waistband of your pants.

The sound of sprinting footsteps made the imposter sit up and you were barely able to register what was happening when a body dressed in red leather slammed into the beskar covered imposter⏤ both men falling away. Taking advantage of your freedom, you scrambled back as quickly as you could. The stranger dressed in red, wearing an oddly shaped helmet that covered his face, had a hand wrapped around the imposter’s throat while his other fist pounded away at the man’s face. Grunts of anger filled the air with every blow thrown and the imposter fought back only for a moment before his body went slack.

You scrambled away further but your back hit a metal crate sitting in the cargo hold. It shifted slightly and the sound made the stranger sit up and spin around. You gasped⏤panicked. Heart still racing. The imposter laid motionless. His face bruised, broken, and bloody beyond all recognition. You were breathing hard, trying to suck in more air as the air you did get brought no relief. The stranger jumped up, motions smooth and agile, and rushed to you. A cry of fear left you as you tried to pathetically jump up, but his hands wrapped around you. Soft, but firm. A comforting weight.

“It’s me. It’s me. You’re safe, mesh’la.” A familiar voice came out of the unfamiliar mask. The bright red and angry shapes still jarring to look at and you tried to struggle away. He pulled away to rip off his gloves. One hand came to rest on the side of your face, while the other lifted the red helmet just enough to reveal a jaw covered in dark scruff and lips. “Listen to me, mesh’la. You’re safe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s me. I’m here.”

You were still shaking, your entire body threatening to tremble into pieces, but your breaths were beginning to grow controlled. The warm hand on your face was grounding. It was familiar. You couldn't see the man’s eyes, but you could feel his soft gaze. Safe. You felt safe.

“M⏤Mando?” You gasped.

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m here, mesh’la. You’re safe now.”

You broke into an uncontrollable sob, unable to bite it back, and Mando didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms. The coarse, red armor you buried your face into felt unfamiliar, but the strong arms that wrapped around you felt right.

For the first time, Din felt uncomfortable in his helmet. It smelled of the spice that Trigg disgustingly chewed on. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull his armor on. It left him in a pair of plain sweats and shirt. After setting you in his bunk, the child curled into your side, he had stripped the mercenary out of his beskar and thrown the piece of shit into the carbonite freezer.

The job had gone so well then so bad. Din found the young Rodian child and killed his quarry. He’d only get half the bounty with the flesh trader dead, but something was better than nothing. The moment he returned the girl to her mother his heart had stopped when he realized his armor was missing. Din had sprinted to the Razor Crest, faster than he had ever run, and still he hadn’t come soon enough.

Din stepped out of the fresher. The Razor Crest was in hyperspace and the cargo hold was dark. The only light spilling from the open door behind him. The sound of whimpering filled the otherwise silent space around him. Din hurried to the bunk to see you tossing and turning. He scooped the child up and set him in the hammock before crawling in to try and calm you.

He called out your name, bare hands on your shoulders, and when your eyes snapped open, thanks to his visor, he could see clearly the way panic and fear filled them. You screamed and began to swing at him. His helmet. It was his helmet. Without thinking, Din ripped his helmet off and threw it out of the bunk. Din pulled you into his arms again, pressing your face to his shoulder, and whispered reassurances.

“It’s me, Mesh’la. It’s me. I’m sorry. I was wearing the helmet. You’re safe, I promise.”

“Mando?” You breathed. He buried his hand in your hair and pulled you tighter into his chest. As if the two of you weren’t already tangled together in the small confines of his bunk. “I’m sorry I hit you⏤”

“It didn’t hurt. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Din didn’t know which emotion waged in him the most⏤ guilt or anger. They were neck and neck. You took in a deep shaky breath and your hot breath on his neck made him sigh in relief. You were safe in his arms. Din rubbed your back and the question fell out before he could hold it back. “Did he… Mesh’la, did⏤”

“No.” You whispered. “You got here just in time.”

Din could feel tears soaking into his shirt. When the tears stopped, Din coaxed you out of the bunk and onto the cargo hold floor. He grabbed a first aid kit and rushed back so you weren’t left alone for too long. The only light still came from the open door of the fresher and he sat so his back was to it. The dim light illuminated your features and it was like a spotlight to the injuries you sported. He had told you that you could open your eyes. With the way you sat, it’d be too dim for you to see his face, but you said you didn’t want to risk it.

He let his fingers trace the forming bruise surrounding your right eye. It trailed down to brush against the torn skin of your lower lip. Dank farrik. That kriffing fucker had bit you. He could see the outline of teeth. Din’s jaw clenched. He grabbed a bit of bacta and rubbed it gently into the forming bruise. He was going to do the same for your lower lip when you stopped him.

“Did I hurt you?” He blurted.

“No, no. Not that.” You mumbled. “Can I… Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything, mesh’la. Anything.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked. Din was certain he had misheard you. It was why he sat in silence. He was trying to puzzle out what it was you had actually said. You spoke again, nervous, “You don’t have to. I⏤I…”

“You want me to…kiss you?”

You nodded. Eyes still closed lightly. “I know it’s dumb. It⏤ I just don’t want to feel his lips anymore. I don’t want the taste of him on me.”

“That’s not dumb, mesh’la.”

Din settled one of his hands on the side of your face. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Din began to lean in. He didn’t want to startle you. He wanted to give you every opportunity to pull away if you needed to. Din would be lying to himself, again, if he said he hadn’t imagined the way your lips would feel on him. But not like this. He hated that these were the circumstances, but there wasn’t a single thing Din wouldn’t do for you if you asked.

His nose brushed against yours. Din was close enough that he could feel your lips part. He waited one second more before pressing his lips softly against yours. One of your hands lifted to tangle in his hair and a simple gesture shouldn’t make him feel so hot under his skin. The kiss was slow and tender. Din was terrified to press too hard and bring you pain. The injury to your lower lip still so fresh. And after what you had just suffered through, he wanted you to have all the control. If you needed to use him to rid yourself of that nightmare, to erase the memory that bastard left on your lips, then he would.

Your tongue brushed against his lower lip, tracing it, and he parted his lips for you giving you room to explore him. Maker, the taste of you was so sweet. It took every single ounce of Din’s self control to not deepen the moment even further. The kiss grew almost frantic. A hand in his hair and another at the back of his neck to pull him into you. You pulled back just enough to suck in a sharp breath before your lips was back on his and Din lost his battle for self control.

He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Din was caught off guard when you pushed down to press yourself against his already hard cock, but it was a welcome surprise. He grabbed your hips, hands tightening into the soft skin there, and grinded into you. You moaned into his mouth and Din pulled away briefly so he could press open mouth kisses along your jaw then down your neck until he reached your shoulder. Thoughtlessly, he bit down, wanting to leave evidence of himself on you, and you let out a sharp gasp while grinding into him again. Din ran his tongue against the bite soothingly.

Din’s hands slipped under your shirt and he desperately let his lips find yours once more. His tongue slipped past your lips, but then he tasted it. The sharp, metallic tang of blood. Din pulled back quickly realizing his plan to let you run the show had gone to shit. Both of you were breathless.

“Are you okay, mesh’la??” He pulled one hand away from your hip to touch your face. His thumb brushed against your lower lip and in the dim light he could see the tint of red.

“Thank you.” You breathed. You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss that missed and only landed on the corner of his lips. Then you leaned your head on his shoulder and just took slow breaths. Din let his knuckles drag up and down your spine. He could feel your entire body going limp as you melted into his hold. You mumbled, “Thank you, Mando.”

“Din.” He replied, but he didn’t know if you had already fallen asleep or not. “Call me Din.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #female reader #reader insert #din djarin smut #dom!din djarin #trying real hard to be sub!din djarin #angst/comfort #fluff

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libertyybellls · 4 months

Text

BELIEVE ME NOW ?

pairing; mentor!finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick odair, to love you- to protect you, battles it out with tough love that you can’t quite see.

contains; ENEMIES TO LOVERS, fluff/tad bit of angst, finnick nearly breaking readers door down, ONE singular kiss is shared 😇, unspoken feelings, death/typical hunger games violence, comfort.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you didn’t know why you hated finnick odair, but you know when it started. you knew it the minute he was assigned you mentor, the minute he put on an act and thought of himself to be better than you, and the second that he wouldn’t give you any reasonable advice before your games.

it was only when you’d won your games, did finnick finally feel for you, it ate him up inside- guilt, fear, shame, it all sickened him.

he sought death in his games, not of the other kids- but himself. but when you’re forced into that arena- when someone stronger, faster, smarter than you starts running towards you- desperate to hear that cannon sound, you fight. and he hated everything about how he fought- only to end up a possession to the republic, a slave to his own mind.

so when he saw you, wide eyed- sitting on that train- scared, unsuspecting, unprepared- he saw himself. he saw that fourteen year old boy stripped from his home, to end the game with blood on his hands.

you were older than he was then, but it didn’t matter if he was nineteen, thirty, even eighty- he’d give anything to have been lucky enough to die in that arena.

you’d arrived from your games a few days ago, only having seen mags. mags who had helped you before your games, signing to you how to find food and water, how to not get sick or hypothermic, die of heatstroke. mags, who brushed your hair after your first shower when all you wanted to do was curl in a ball and disappear, who sent you off to rest knowing if she hadn’t given you medicine you’d stay up- stuck in your head.

being in that hotel after your games was like a ghost town. all the other mentors and stylist sent home- only your own had been there. all the other kids were gone- quite frankly dead. the room next to yours vacant- your district partner, a boy you’d gotten to know quite well- someone you’d even call a friend, dead. just you left.

you’d just finished your interview, faking a smile, plastering on a look of faux happiness- preaching about how grateful you were to have made it out. dressed so extravagantly, so see-through, so indecent, your makeup so dissimilar to you- you couldn’t even recognize yourself.

you’d been rushing back to your room- rushing to hide away until you’d once more get back on the train and give a ‘victory’ tour.

finnick had been waiting for you, he had so many things he needed to say, to tell you- no, warn you about.

but as you strided towards him from the elevator, and let out a sharp; “what? here to take the credit from all the advice you gave me?” and slammed your door without batting an eye- the words were lost in his throat.

he started with knocking, simply calling your name, “can i please just speak to you?” then the knocks got harder, less distance in time between each one, then he was pounded on the white door incessantly. “y/n, open this door.”

your head was pounding, and you could care less for what glorious speech he was going to spew at you, “i don’t want your fucking pity story, finnick.” you tell back from the other side of the door- at this he pushes, and pushes the door until the lock gives.

when he sees you, your sitting on the edge of your bed- your heads in your hands, the lamp beside you is dim.

“what? what’s so important you had to force yourself into my room? do you think anything you say is going to change how you left me? you left me to die.” you were glaring at him. with so much hate behind your eyes he couldn’t take it anymore.

you thought you’d been nothing but kind to him, respectful, even after he’d won his games you still treated him normally once he’d gone back to district four- worst of all, you thought you deserved some type of help from him. but all you ended up being was dirt on his shoe?

“i was trying to protect you-“

you laugh incredulously at this, “trying to protect me? no, finnick. you wanted to protect malik-“ you waved your hand in the direction of the very empty, lifeless room of your district partner, “and look where your ‘help’ got him.”

“i mean, you made no effort to do so much as look my way, and now you want to talk? you’re of no use to me now. i already got through the worst of it- without you.” you continued rambling as you took of your necklace, your rings, your bracelets.

“trust me y/n you’ll realize victory isn’t the better option. so if you’d just fucking-“ he sighed, running his hand over his face and looking down. “if you’d just listen to me- you’ll see i’m trying to be your friend- to help you for what’s coming next.”

there’s a few beats of silence as he waits for your response, it’s deafening- you’ve completely paused in your action of taking out your earrings. “my friend?” you laugh, hair falling over your shoulders. “i don’t really like you, finnick.”

this perplexes finnick, shaking his head. “and i don’t really believe you, y/n.” he takes a step closer, breaking your imaginary bubble. “you know you were the only person who didn’t hover around me in our town after my games? the only person who never looked up to me? like i was this spectacle? waiting to see my next move?”

you take one step closer to him now, you can smell him- it’s of salt air and expensive cologne- and it’s unbearable. there’s heat emitting from his body.

“that’s called caring, finnick.” you look into his eyes now, for the first time. “and i’d only wish you’d have that same respect for me.”

there’s something he can’t understand about you, you’re constantly trying to fight back- you won’t admit defeat or accept help- just continuing your fight for survival. but he prays you know you don’t have to fight him, he only wants to help you.

“why do you think i’m here?” his eyes are pulling you in, his smell is suffocating you. it’s all a paradox. “you think im here to torment you further, y/n?”

truth be told, you don’t know why he’s here. you don’t know why he’s caring so much. but you’re here, standing inches away from him in your hotel room and admiring him- for reasons you can’t quite explain.

“snows going to do everything he can to make you feel small. he’s going to make you the capitols dream girl. he’s going to objectify you, and show you off like you’re a prize.” he takes a breath, you’re driven to further confusion- why does it look like this is hurting him too? “and you can’t fight it, because it will only have him sway more control over you. only more pain for you. and i won’t have that y/n.”

finnicks closer to you now, “i won’t-i cant have him take more of you.” from me, he wants to say, he wants to tell you that all he’s tried to do from the moment he met you as a boy, is protect you.

there it is again, that glint in his eyes- the utter, pure concern and passion, and you can’t take it. “don’t do that. don’t look at me like you care about me.”

finnicks face is not even an inch away from yours now, you can see the birthmarks on his neck- the freckles the sun has blessed him with that are so faint you wouldn’t have seen them before.

“i do.” he says like it’s the last words he’ll ever say. the air has left both of your lungs.

you keep this eye contact with him, like he can see your heart, and like you’re trying to read his mind. “i don’t believe you.” you mock his words from earlier.

he angles his head at these words, moving closer so your lips are touching-and your eyes flutter shut- but he hasn’t kissed you, not yet.

“i want to protect you until i can’t anymore. until im gone.” he doesn’t let you speak now, his lips stealing your words when they crash into yours. the movement is natural, fluid, soft.

he expects you to pull away, shove him off of you, tell him that you hate him- but you deepen the kiss much to his surprise.

you kiss him, pull him impossibly close to you until you can’t anymore- until your lungs now beg for oxygen- but all you want to do is breath him in. you pull away, and your eyes open, nearly in shock, but more in amusement.

“believe me now?”

masterlist

#finnick angst #finnick fanfic #finnick fluff #finnick imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick oneshot #finnick smut

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