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sorcerersseestars · 5 months

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LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.

PART II

credit 🩷:

@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider

*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo behavior #hurt/comfort #gojo hurt/comfort #angst #jjk #best buddie shoko #sad bc utahime and shoko aren’t together in this one 😤#Gojo is a hater

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chewwypepsicola · 7 months

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avm fans when two character's almost beat each other to death: wow they're so in love!

#im the biggest secred hater and lover out there #I NEED TO BE IN LOVE SO BAD but i know that canonically they have very few interacitons we are making a feast out of crumbs and then a whol #10 min episode of angst #anyone got any secred fic recs?#try saying that five times fast #anyyways #hai tumblr fam #.i love u #secred #avm the second coming #avm green #animation vs minecraft #animator vs animation #ene does art

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uncanny-tranny · 5 months

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I just find it very interesting that all the labour classed as lesser (most often seen as "women's labour") becomes indispensable in moments of crisis. It's just interesting to see how quickly people turn to that labour and then discard it in moments of peace or prosperity, devaluing it until another crisis hits.

#politics #feminism #yes this is me reflecting upon the knitting and war video #it's interesting how a 'feminine' craft like knitting became recognized only in tangent to the violence of war #my feelings about this are complex but i think textile craft is a good example of what i mean #because textiles are revolutionary to humanity - just like the discovery of fire. and yet it is so often devalued #especially when it comes to profit over human welfare #look the textile artist to even stauncher hater of capitalism pipeline is real and i'm barreling down it faster than the speed of light #complex feelings on this but this is my general thesis i guess #(context: i was watching a video about knitting and how it supported war efforts in wwi and wwii)#(and while i did know a lot about the topic in that it was a huge part of war support propaganda it was still interesting)#i feel like that video encapsulated a lot of angst i have about crafting labour especially #and also by 'interesting' i actually mean infuriating and stupid

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canneddolts · 6 months

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Do you have any thoughts on freehoun?

#hope this Helps <3 #EAT EAT EAT #for realsies they are like….the secret 3rd thing between bestfriends & dating In my mind #not quite either #i dont have much to say about hl2 barney #also #i do like everything ppl do with them..#every dynamic like best friends & haters & angst ers & lovers #i j stick to silly stuff bc it makes me joyous & spin in circles #also i cant write angst or anything deep #oopsies #half life #hl1 #gordon freeman #barney calhoun #my stuff #half-life

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heartsoji · 11 months

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CAN I HAVE A KISS?

synopsis: in which you see him off

starring nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, itoshi sae

warning! chigiri's is a little steamy? but its pretty chill

inspired by the song "see you again"

N. SEISHIRO

"uuugh" nagi groaned into your chest as reo rolled his eyes in the background. "dont wanna go.."

you chuckled fondly as you ruffled his fluffy hair. "it'll be over before you know it."

"noooooo" he whined, shoving his tall frame onto your smaller one. "i dont wanna go! i wanna just stay here with youuuu"

"sei! you're crushing me!"

"dont care."

"..reo! help!"

reo sighed as he plucked nagi off of you. "come on, nagi. we've gotta go."

he groaned. "but its so much of a hassle.."

"too bad. say your last words."

he sighed and mumbled something under his breath before turning his attention back to you.

"can i get a kiss?"

"hm?"

"and can you make it last forever?" he puppy eye-d you.

"im about to go to WAR"

"boy."

"and i dont know if im gonna see you again.."

"NAGI! stop being so dramatic! we're leaving soon. hurry it up."

nagi whined, but then turned his attention back to you. "so.. kiss?"

you planted a sweet kiss to his lips as reo cringed in the background. "it'll be over before you know it. i love you, ok?"

nagi nodded and engulfed you in a huge hug. "i love you too."

"ok, loverboy, thats enough. lets go."

"just a few more minutes.."

"WE'RE LEAVING"

C. HYOMA

it had been awkward between you and hyoma lately.

his whole injury thing had taken a toll on not only his mental health and soccer career, but also your relationship.

still, you wanted to see him off nonetheless.

"be safe," you said awkwardly. "hope its fun."

he chuckled stiffly. "thanks."

there was a long pause where neither of you said anything. the air was tense, and you hated it.

"well," you said, "i'll see you when its over, then."

panic flooded his senses as you began to leave. "wait." he said, grabbing your wrist.

when you turned around to look at him, he averted his gaze. "can i have a kiss?"

your eyes widened in surprise.

"..what?"

you hadn't had any form of real communication since he got injured, and now he's suddenly asking for a kiss?

he let go of you. "uh.. sorry. you dont have to if you dont wa-"

you cut him off with a deep kiss, wanting to taste his lips. his eyes widened a little before returning it, hands in your hair.

when you released for air, you whispered, "i'll make it last forever," before going in for a second round.

after you both pulled away, breathless, chigiri smiled and gazed at you gently, caressing a lock of your hair, trying to remain composed, but his red face giving his real mental state away. "well, sounds like this blue lock thing's gonna be like a war. i dont know how long it'll be until i see you again."

you chuckled fondly. "i'll wait for you, hyoma."

his pretty smile caught the attention of passerby. (um mr. no-pda what r u doing but wtv) "ok. thanks."

he turned around to go, but it was you who grabbed his wrist this time.

"i love you, hyoma."

his gaze softened. "i love you too."

I. SAE

"so you're really leaving for spain, sae?" you mumbled, though you already knew the answer. when you got no response, you sighed and pulled him in for a hug. "i'm gonna miss you."

he hugged you back and squeezed you tight. "me too."

"don't forget about me in spain, ok?"

"ok."

"make sure to call me, ok?"

"ok."

"dont forget! ever week, or every day if possible! ok?"

"ok."

you sighed. "i love you, sae."

to the untrained eye, sae's expression remained the same. the same cold, harsh one that could pierce through walls. but to someone experienced like you, you saw how his expression softened ever so slightly. "i love you too."

lip beginning to quiver, you asked, "can i get a kiss?"

he hesitated, as he was in public, but quickly pressed a kiss to your cheek.

you smiled. "and can you make it last forever? you're about to go to war, y'know."

he rolled his eyes at the dramatic phrasing but gave you a slower, deeper kiss to the lips regardless.

"and i dont know if im gonna see you again!"

he gently pressed a fist to your head jokingly, letting out an 'idiot.' however, although the phrasing wasn't entirely true, he knew exactly what you meant and how you felt. (this guy? mr. no-feelings? ok.) he was sure that he'd see you again at some point, but he had no idea how long that would be. he really wanted to be with you, but he also wanted to pursue his dream, which was nearly within his grasp, and spain was the only place he could do that right now.

you began to tear up. "im really gonna miss you."

"i know. me too."

you were never very good at goodbyes. you didnt even take leaving his house well. but realizing that suddenly, your boyfriend was going to be in a whole different country with a whole different language and a whole different time zone without you, hit you harder than you could've ever expected. it filled you with an indescribable emotion of sadness, fear, emptiness, and more. you didnt want to, as you wanted to stay strong for sae, but you began to cry. tears streamed down your face as your buried your head in his chest, sobbing like a child.

as you cried, your tears on his sweatshirt, you began to wonder if maybe you were annoying sae. maybe he just wanted to leave and get this over with, but you were holding him back and he was just being nice by not turning his back and leaving. however, the way he held you back and pressed a small kiss to your head as he kept you firmly in his grasp told you that although he didnt express it like you did, he, too, was feeling an indescribable feeling. it told you that even though it would be hard, it would work out.

you sighed, laughing slightly, and pulled away from the hug. "well, i guess i'll be seeing you some other time, then."

"i guess so," he answered.

"bye, sae."

"bye, y/n."

you cried on the way home, once you got home, and the days that followed. you felt so lonely now that he was gone, but the daily 'goodmorning,' 'how are you,' and 'goodnight' texts helped you through it. your personal favorite, however, was the daily 'i love you' text.

(spoiler alert: his favorite was the 'i love you too' text)

heartsoji 𑁍 please do not steal, plagiarize, or repost onto any platform. thank you!

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valynne · 7 months

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our mothers warmth (a raging fire)

pairing(s). platonic alicent hightower x daughter! reader word count. 0.9k description. visions were for your half sister, helaena, hers were not pleasant but they were oft correct. your dreams are glimpses of something in the corner of your eyes, something stalking.

content. targaryen madness, angst, blood, accidental self-harm (accidentally getting cut), mentioned medieval style doctoring, untreated mental disorders, alicent being a good (step)mother

a/n. the concept of targaryen madness is just too appealing, i really enjoy writing characters who have something inexplicably wrong but wish not to see it :P

A shallow gasp, raw and keening, racks your chest. The sheets constrict your body as you claw to sit upright, the longer you lay the more blood rushes behind your eyes and the more white noise snuffs out every sense. Pushing and pulling and gasping as you fight the monster that climbs up the end of your bed, teeth as sharp as needles ready to pounce. You hear your own scream before you realise you are, how did it get in?

Your throat is burning as you thrash and finally free yourself of the weighty quilt. The monster snarls as it grabs ahold of your thrashing leg, trying to drag you off. A sharp kick to the arm of it that misses- a jangling of metal. There's a hard line of pain on the soft curve of your calf, tension in your skin is released and a itching pain weeps from the line. The pain pools and heat begins spreading along the extremity, it brings focus back to you.

And you realise, the glinting of teeth turns into the metal of your guards armor.

"-cess? Princess a-" The blood rushing in your ears finally disappears. "What happened?"

"I-I don't," Your eyes drag down to your sliced foot, blood staining the pale linens a dark burgundy. "I'm scared."

The guard is taken aback, his eyes following your gaze to the wound on your leg. "Maester! Summon a maester, the princess is wounded!"

The candles are fresh, flickering. The fireplace blazes on without fault, a beacon in the canyons of your night terrors. A maester sits at your foot, dabbing away droplets of blood that continue beading at the edges of the wound.

Your queen mother, Alicent Hightower, sits dutifully beside you. Her gentle hand clasping one of yours, her thumbs caressing soft circles into the skin on the back of your hand.

She hasn’t spoken to you yet, her eyes watch the maester salve the wound. Ready to order him out of the court should he harm you any further. Once she was notified she had been quick to gather herself from sleep and sweep through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast. Eyes frantic as she burst into the room, still in her sleep wear.

“Sweet girl,” Her voice is soft, her doe eyes softer as she watches you, her words pulling you from your recollections. “What happened?”

A long pause is held before you can find the words, but they do not suffice. “A night terror, queen mother. T’was nothing more.”

Alicent turns her head accusingly to the maester, her fingers tighten just slightly around your own.

“Have the treatments not been working?” The maester glances up, startled. “What is the point in bloodletting if it does nothing?”

The maester cannot bumble out a single word, your Queen mother’s words are fired at him too quickly for an answer to be thought up. You’re too unfocused to listen to the conversation but your mother’s voice, no matter how frustrated, lulls you. The ladies at court said you had clung to her, ever the frail and sickly babe, and wished only for her company during your little days when she had been Rhaenyra’s lady-in-waiting. You weren’t of Alicent’s womb, a mere legitimised bastard of your dear King.

There’s a large crackle of the fire pit, and the following tumble of a burnt stump of wood. Your head turns to watch, eyelids feeling heavy as you watch the wood that crumbles within the firepit. It reminds you of the stone and brick in your dreams, the crumbling Red Keep.

A breath and then another.

The shallow rise and fall of your chest settles the longer you stare into the flickering fire, the pain induced sweat on your skin drying away into your dressing gown leaving a gross feeling behind. You lean back into the chair fully, a stray tear rolling down your cheek as you let the maester lather a salve of some kind into the wound.

"Seven help me." A brush of a whisper to no one. The Queen mother hears though, she always does. A crease forms between her brows as she watches you, watches you close your eyes and hide back away inside yourself.

She presses a featherlight kiss to your hairline, hand smoothing over the stray hairs, as she rests her head against yours. “All will be well, my sweet girl.”

Your lip quivers, as tears threaten your waterline from behind closed eyes. The hand that isn’t being held is quick to find home in your mother’s gown. Fingers grasping tightly as a quiet sob falls from your lips.

“M’sorry.” A shuddering breath in. “I’m so sorry, Queen mother.”

She holds you, her cold hands brushing away at your hair and your exposed arm, the kisses at your hairline multiplied as she holds you close. “You needn’t apologise, my sweet girl. Tis not your fault.”

Sleep doesn’t come easily, not after your quiet tears. Alicent holds you until you do though, she mumbles a lullaby. Not of High Valyrian, no, but one of the Reach. A gentle hymn of the Mother, and her love for her children. A prayer for saviour.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd x you #targaryen madness #house targaryen #alicent hightower #alicent hightower x daughter! reader #there’s something about twisted prediction man ong #angst #targaryen siblings #reader is older cause i said so #viserys targaryen #maester hater for life <3

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sodafizzyart · 1 year

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Love when people remember to point how pretty Peeta is

#I’m an angst hater except for these two #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #everlark #thg #the hunger games trilogy #the hunger games #mockingjay #everlark fanart #thg fanart #sorry for bad art again I haven’t been drawing

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ermesskiss · 3 months

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LMAO

trying to pretend this isn't annoying me 😔

why can't ItaFushi playlists have the same amount of saves like my SatoSugu one (links under cut)

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roe-and-memory · 5 months

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every time someone calls lightning “M*nty” a part of me dies. that is NOT HIS NAME. just immediately assume he came out of the womb and his parents looked at each other and his mother said “i literally dont give af. name him lightning or something.” and his dad was like yo hear me out… thats a banger name… and boom they named their baby after a weather event that people would eventually stop thinking about as a weather event when they hear it because they think about cars so often that the word “lightning” stands for cringe ass redhead 18 year old racer boy and not “electricity that comes from the sky”

clarifying this by saying i adore lightning and i call him a cringe ass racer boy because if you google the word cringefail his face is the first result (affectionately)

#cars 2006 #lightning mcqueen #cars fandom #signed memory #pixar cars #i cannot take the name MONTY seriously #whoever did that to him needs to be JAILED.#i can write angst with the name lightning with a smile on my face #as soon as monty comes into the picture im losing my absolute shit because that boy is no MONTY #im sorry im a hater thats an awful name #if your name is monty i have condolences and a get well soon balloon ready in the mail for you

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silverlistenstothings · 1 year

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Everyone is always talking abt how much Link hates Oakworthy and they’re absolutely right but if you ask me the funniest part about it is that he’s trying to play it cool. Like he’s so goddamn excited to get a chance to shittalk Hermie but as soon as Normal expresses that he’s still into him (he needs him), Link backs off. He’s giving Normal a big thumbs up and telling him to go get his man, but then leaning down to whisper to Scary about how much he hates Hermie’s stupid theatre kid ass as soon as he turns away. He’s trying so hard to be supportive but every day spent in Hermie’s presence is a day closer to turning over a new leaf and excepting that murder is ok, sometimes, if it’s Hermie.

#they’re so funny #do you have any idea how sad I am that I couldn’t go through with the ‘Grant and Marco pseudoadopting Hermie’ thing #i think it would have done awful things to link forever #silver tongue (talk tag)#lincoln li wilson #hermie unworthy #Oakworthy #being a hater is the funniest thing for a character to do #and like #what’s going on btwn scary and Taylor?#as much as it’s played for goofs it’s very much like. scary killed taylor’s dad right after they bonded for the first time #it’s built off this very genuine angst #but link’s hatred for hermie is just him being a little hater #he just thinks he’s annoying and he doesn’t understand any of his references #and Taylor (LINKS BEST FRIEND!!) keeps saying hermies his best friend but he’s fucking not. link is

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sunshinebingo · 4 months

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The Things Autumn Did To Me

Merry Christmas @thelov3lybookworm!!! 🎁 It has been so nice to meet you through @acotargiftexchange and I had a great time secretly interacting with you. I had a lot of fun experimenting with your gift too (you and I have a lot in common btw 😌). I really hope that you will enjoy the slight mess that is this fic 🤭

***

Synopsis: Two months into their convenient marriage and Gwyneth and Azriel still have very strong feelings for each other. Is it really the hate that they claim it to be, or something else? Not even they can tell.

However, another chance at tackling the failed mission that has led them to where they are will make the two spies face something that they have both been afraid of. After all, the line separating hate from desire can be very thin.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning: None for this chapter

Find the Masterlist here

Read Chapter 1 on Ao3 or below the cut

“Wife,” he sneered.

“Husband,” she sneered back.

Azriel walked to end of the table and sat down, carefully adjusting his wings behind him.

“Glad to see that you are still alive,” he said, pulling the plate that his wife had already filled for him closer.

“Glad to know that I am still the funny one,” Gwyn replied without looking up from her own plate.

Morning greeting, checked. Daily verification that his partner was still breathing, checked. What was left to do before breakfast? Ah right... Check the food for poison. His shadows made a sweep around the table, ensuring that nothing would lead to him dropping sick or dead.

When he finally raised his cup of tea to his lips after their quick inspection, his eyes landed on a pair of teal ones across the table. Azriel internally shuddered at Gwyn’s piercing gaze and at how her lips turned into a feline smirk.

“It will happen when you least expect it,” she said, then dug a knife into her pancakes.

Azriel snorted. As if she could sneak past his trusty shadows. They might have an odd affection for her – unlike their master – but they were still loyal to him. Many believed that, being a Shadowsinger, Azriel had full control over his shadows. He refrained from letting others know that they also tended to have a mind of their own. Like the little wisp which was currently ignoring him and was slowly making its way between the bowl of fruit and the teapot to reach her.

Gwyn’s eyes followed the movement of the shadow until it reached her hand and started swirling around her fingers, especially the one adorned with a silver band – a perfect match to the one on his own ring finger – that glinted against her pale, freckled skin. Her smile softened for the shadow in a way it never did for him.

While she watched the shadow, Azriel watched her. The rich copper hair that was put up in a very messy bun atop her head with random strands that escaped and which fell around her face, her pointed ears where she wore several simple studs, her nose and cheeks across which lay a scattering of freckles, as if someone had tossed them with a careless hand, her plump lips, her eyes. Those bright eyes that had unsettled him from the very first time he had looked into them. A depthless teal ocean that often seemed like they could see straight through him. Gwyn was a creature of cruel beauty and Azriel hated her more for it.

When she looked up from the shadow playing with her hand, Azriel lowered his eyes to his food before she could see the thoughts that he always tried his hardest to hide in her presence.

“Is there something on my face?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, stirring his tea despite having added nothing to it.

“Well,” she went on, unable to stay quiet for long, as always. “What is it?”

“You look...” the shadows whispered an assortment of words though none that he was willing to use. Instead, he responded with, “...like you slept in a tree.”

Gwyn let out a snicker. “That would certainly be better than trying to sleep while listening to your pacing all night.”

It took him a few seconds to understand and none more to feel stupid about it. The endless pacing had nothing to do with the work he did at this hour and everything to do with him trying to focus while also attempting to block out the sound of her thumping heart and that of her mumblings while she slept. His office was right above her bedroom on the third level and he had selfishly never stopped to think that she might hear him walking around on the wooden floor when he could hear her too. He had tried to work in other rooms instead but the pestering of his shadows and their insistence to be close to her was even more annoying. At least in his office they shut up and contended themselves with spreading on the floor while listening to her.

It was the first time in the whole two months since they had been living together that she was mentioning it. Surprising of her since she often found something to complain about him. He did the same but, unlike hers, his complaints about her were at least justified.

“Some Spymaster you are,” she mumbled around a mouthful, “Not even able to walk without raising the dead.”

Azriel looked up at her and smirked. “I do it on purpose to piss you off.”

Gwyn swallowed her food. Her face remained impassive when she spoke again. “You do that well enough by just existing.”

He did not respond. He only held her gaze, risking getting lost in her ocean eyes, until footsteps were heard entering the dining room and someone cleared their throat.

“A letter arrived from the Prince of Autumn,” Roslin, their maid and one of the very few persons aware of the truth behind their union, announced and handed an envelope to Gwyn. Roslin had been Gwyn’s trusted maid when she lived in the Forest House. She was also a spy and had helped Gwyn with maintaining her second identity in the Autumn Court by covering up her secret activities. She offered Roslin her thanks with a usual friendly smile before the maid left the dining room.

“What is it?” Azriel asked, eyes narrowed on the folded paper that Gwyn took out of the envelope.

“Hopefully something that will get me as far away from you as possible.”

Her comment suddenly made him want to spend his entire day being as close to her as he could. Not because he liked her company whatsoever. Their shared mission already ensured that they spent a ridiculous amount of time together. Including sharing a house and attempting to look like an oh so happy couple in public.

“I’m afraid, dear wife, that no one can get rid of me so easily. Least of all you.”

Azriel had learned a great deal since they sealed their marriage two months ago. He obviously learned a lot about Gwyn. And, surprisingly, a lot about himself too, especially his patience and tolerance of her.

Gwyn placed the empty envelope on the table, picked up a little spoon and brandished it at Azriel as though it was a dagger. “I could kill you with this,” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m trembling,” he deadpanned. The shadows snickered around him.

He had always taken pride in his infinite patience. That was one of the qualities that made him the best at his job. But somehow, the female sitting across from him, reading her letter as if she wasn’t the bane of his existence, had found ways to challenge almost all of his skills, including his ability to remain calm under any circumstance, and also his ability to charm any female and male alike. That last skill would not be of much use anymore anyway since, to the rest of the world, all of it was now supposed to be reserved for Gwyn only. His wife. The one who made him lose his godsdamned mind in every possible way.

It was not as though he had ever seduced anyone in hope of anything more but a few hours of pleasure. His family thought that he refused to commit to a serious relationship, much less marriage, because his job was too dangerous to rope a potential partner in such things. Being the Spymaster and non-official torturer of his court made Azriel do things that most would cower to do and put him in dangers few were willing to face.

The reality was that Azriel did not want anyone to feel shackled to him. Although he had witnessed many successful relationships in his life, including the couples in his found family, his childhood had left more scars on him than those on his burned hands. He had witnessed what a monster his sire had been to his mother. For so long Azriel had feared that his resemblance to the cruel male might be more than physical. He feared that the beast he became when he tortured for the protection of his court might scare away a partner, or even worse, hurt them. So, instead of taking the risk, he preferred to block out the possibility of finding out altogether.

His several centuries as a spy might have made him an expert in the art of seduction, but he was empty handed when it came to true romantic feelings. Azriel doubted anyone with a bit of common sense would willingly stay with him if they knew how little he knew about love. Save for his family, the one with which he was related in every way except for blood, he had never let anyone close enough to his heart to feel such things. That was why he had been more than a little nervous when Rhysand and Eris had suggested this marriage, despite being aware that it was one of convenience. Imposed was a better word than suggested. Though even if Rhysand was his High Lord, Azriel could have still been opposed to his brother’s orders. But he did see the necessity of the situation, especially for Gwyn.

Since she was herself a spy, he knew that Gwyn had also seen her fair share of danger and blood. He knew what she also had to do to protect her court. Being from the Autumn Court and secretly acting with Eris against her High Lord for the greater good of Prythian, Azriel knew that her position had been more precarious than his. For Gwyn, this marriage was not just to keep plotting against Beron to put Eris on the throne. It was also to save her life. If the High Lord of Autumn found out that the lady who had lived in his home her whole life was a spy trying to bring him down, death would prove to be a small mercy for her.

For most, it might seem like their paths had crossed at one of the High Lord and Ladies’ meeting in Autumn, which also involved important members of all the seven courts and had fallen so deeply in love that they had been married in the same week.

The truth was that they had met several times before that to exchange information about what Beron was up to behind closed doors. Gwyn was the one who Eris trusted to pass on information about his father’s secret plans. She had been like a beam in the night on their first meeting in a wood bordering her court. She had looked like she had been crafted by the capable hands of the Mother herself.

Gwyn had also looked like she was not happy at all with the new secret alliance between the Night Court and the Autumn Prince. Azriel had not been either. Even now, he was still suspicious of Eris’ true intentions when it came to this alliance. Azriel despised the arrogant Prince. He despised Autumn Court and anything that had to do with it. He had never wanted to work alongside one of them, but fate had apparently decided otherwise.

“I bet you would read that thing faster if it was smut,” he complained when she remained silent while her eyes kept going back and forth on the letter.

Gwyn looked up at him with another scowl. “Shut up and quit distracting me.”

With a flicker of her hand, she summoned a small golden flame that she then ran across the ivory page. She read the hidden message that Eris had left there for her before burning the entire letter along with the envelope.

“It’s an invitation from Eris,” she finally explained. “Autumn Solstice is being held at the Forest House in a week.”

Azriel cursed. As a former member, it was natural for the redhead to be invited to celebrate with the rest of her home court. But looking at Gwyn, he saw what she was not saying. This event would be their second, possibly last chance to get a hand on Beron’s plans and avoid a possible war, or at least prepare for an eventual one. Something else also shone in his wife’s eyes. A determination that this time, they would not fail. They should not. This marriage had been a last resort to hide Gwyn’s secret identity. It had been the only plan that Eris could come up with to get his cousin out of reach of his father before this one could start questioning her presence so close to his private quarters and start to suspect her.

“Well, my broody bat.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. Gwyn picked a bunch of grapes from the bowl and observed one carefully before popping it into her mouth. “I hope you’re ready to have some fun.”

“We’re going there on a mission Berdara. Not to party.”

Gwyn shrugged. “Who says one has to exclude the other.”

The two of them had different approaches to spying. Azriel preferred to keep to the dark. His shadows allowed him to remain unseen and unheard even in plain sight. He had always been the quiet kind of person, picking up clues by silently observing while his shadows searched for what was out of his reach. Gwyn, on the other, was the complete opposite. While she could also hide in plain sight, her talent was that of deception. She could have been a shape shifter with how easily she could adapt to and blend into any situation.

“How do you propose we do that?” he asked.

She pushed her empty plate aside and propped her elbows on the table.

“Well your shadows could signal us when the time is right.” She lifted the hand where a shadow was once again twirling in between her fingers and down her wrist.

“We’ll then pretend to sneak away to do what we were doing last time.”

Azriel’s fork stopped midway to his mouth. His shadows circled him excitedly, chanting their glee at Gwyn’s plan.

On the evening that had led to their current situation, Gwyn and Azriel were on a common mission to infiltrate Beron’s quarters to try and retrieve some incriminating documents about the High Lord of Autumn. These would have been the perfect proof to put Beron on trial for his actions against peace in Prythian. Unfortunately, a few wrong moves had led to them being caught where no one should have been. The only thing that had saved them then had been to act as if they had been a second away from having sex.

Azriel still remembered every single detail of it, from the very first second that Gwyn had grabbed his shirt and had pulled him down against her. He remembered how it had felt to have her in his arms, how her lips had moved fervently against his as if her life depended on it, which it did. If he closed his eyes, he could recall how her hands had felt as she had glided them across his chest, his arms, on his neck and the way she had tugged at the roots of his hair. How urgent those same hands had been when she had pull him closer by hooking a finger at the seam of his pants. The sounds she had made when his tongue had tangled with hers had been louder than the approaching footsteps of the guards. Perhaps it was in that exact moment, where his mission had shifted from those documents to her, that his shadows had started to become obsessed with her. More so than they had been since they started meeting for a few brief minutes to exchange information.

Everyone knew that Autumn Court faeries had fire in their veins. But only then had Azriel learned what the rumours were truly about. If a kiss that was devoid of feelings and which was only meant to fool the guards was like that, then Azriel did not even want to think about what a real kiss from her would be like. He refused to imagine it. The fake one had burned a big enough hole in him. Glancing at the Autumn female across the table, Azriel cursed her for having ruined every kiss he ever had before and certainly all others that he could have had if he was not bound to her.

“Or,” he proposed to prevent himself from spiralling deeper into their backstory and what it was doing to him. “We can just pretend to leave.”

Gwyn looked at him like he had said the stupidest thing ever. The last time he followed her lead had resulted in them getting married. What would happen this time? Would Eris find a random child that they would be forced to raise together to keep up their disguise? Azriel’s thoughts quieted when a shadow rushed from where it was hovering beside his left wing to remind him of what had prompted her to kiss him and he reluctantly agreed to the reasoning behind it.

He went on explaining the paths that they could take around the Forest House to avoid running into anyone if they followed his plan and how his shadows would help in the process.

“Well?”

He waited for her opinion when he finished.

“Huh? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

Azriel closed his eyes and sighed. Fucking Autumn courts and their fucking hard heads. Fucking wife and her fucking stubbornness.

“You come up with something then, smart-ass.”

She started to open her mouth but Azriel cut her off. “Something that does not involve fucking in Beron’s quarters.”

Gwyn huffed. Her cheeks started to turn pink, probably from the fire coursing through her and which seemed to run hotter at every outburst. “I wasn’t about to say that, you dimwit.”

Azriel gave her another roll of his eyes before returning to his food. Gwyn said nothing more. Yet by looking at her face, the emotions that he was still learning to read there, Azriel could see the gears of her mind working. She remained like this for the whole time that he finished his breakfast.

When he was done, he rose from his chair and walked to her. He grabbed her chin between his thumb and index and lifted her head until she looked at him.

“We have a week to come up with a solid plan. There’s no need to fry up your head over this right away.”

He suspected that she was worried about going back while there were still talks about her. Leaving the Forest House was not so simply done without a proper reason after all, especially for someone who had been raised there. Several rumours had already rose about the lady who had so hastily left her home to settle in the Night Court with the infamous Shadowsinger. His reputation in Rhys’ inner circle alone had fuelled the suspicions of more than one person, including Beron.

Azriel dragged his thumb along the seam of her lips, right where a trace of the syrup from her pancakes was still glistening.

“You’ll need that brain of yours to come up with more creative insults for me. The ones you currently have are terrible,” he added.

Gwyn brought a hand to the one that held her face. She slowly wrapped her long fingers around his wrist without looking away from his face. More pink spread across her cheeks and made her freckles stood out. Azriel badly wanted to know what she was truly hiding behind those eyes in this moment.

“Can you please do something for me, my dear husband?” her voice came out like a soft breeze singing in the night. Azriel had the reflex to stop his wings from twitching.

“What is it?”

He convinced himself that his breathlessness had nothing to do with that voice which was sweeter than the sticky syrup on his finger. Her hand tightened around his wrist.

“Throw yourself off a cliff,” she gritted out and forcefully yanked his hand away. Gone was the sweet, melodic voice. Her chair made a loud screeching sound as she pushed it back and stood.

Azriel held in a chuckle when she raised her chin and stomped off of the living room. “See you later, my annoying husband.”

He followed her as he made his way to his room. “Sure, my petulant wife.”

They went up the stairs and reached the door to her room first. Gwyn paused with a hand on the handle. “Don’t miss me too much, my haughty husband.” She opened the door and walked inside.

Azriel stood at the threshold of her bedroom with his arms crossed and a smirk on his lips. “You wish, my Autumn witch.”

Gwyn’s returning smile was as wicked as a witch’s. “I know you will.” And she slammed the door in his face.

To Be Continued...

#acotar gift exchange #acotar secret santa 2023 #gwynriel #marriage of convenience #haters to ... stay tuned to find out #some spying #some banter #some angst #some smut and fluff #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel fic

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