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zwhoreo · 7 months

Note

can i request some slutty luffy? just fuck me up fam ☠️

AHH i think this is so beautiful and one of my fav smuts i’ve written!!! :’)

hunger - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: luffy gets incredibly horny, and he’s confusing lust with hunger

contains: mating press, praise, marking (reader receiving)

words: 2.4k

_______________________________

Luffy’s alone. He thinks, right now, of touch. And his body is sweaty from the day and from his yearning mind, he’s shirtless because an hour ago he lit on fire beneath his skin, he’s been simmering ever since, and it’s healed, somehow, by touch. So his fingers dig into the grooves of his abs, he likes to feel them flex and shift as he traces every corner, mouth open, drooling onto the glass of the porthole. He left his bed an hour ago when he lit on fire beneath his skin. His blanket became too hot, his mind too full to fall asleep. He’s thinking about food now, juicy fruits that drip down his throat, melted cheese, the greasy, fatty pieces of steak that slide so slowly along his tongue.

He rubs his stomach because he’s hungry, that’s it. There’s a burning within him, starvation but if it was beautiful. He needs food right now but he knows, somehow, that food won’t do anything for him, not really. And if he rubs his stomach because he’s hungry then why does his hand go lower, down beneath his waistline, tugging at the hair down there because, why? Why does this feel good? Why is he moaning, little whimpers that fog the glass, what does he need? He thinks of touch. Skin on skin. That’s it, skin on skin.

You’re probably alone. Moonbeams sail one by one from the east with the wind and blackening sky as the sunset turns lilac, fading, gold waves turning silver, copper. Translucent silk the color of the sunset hangs from your shoulders, a slip so loose it barely covers your chest. It isn’t cold tonight and you’re not tired. You saw dolphins this evening and you wonder if you can see them again before the water disappears in the night. Everyone else is already asleep. You hope that when you’re tired you can find Luffy, who’s probably asleep, and curl up with him as everything drifts away.

But as the ocean laps at the ship and you’re calmed by the gentle rocking you feel, suddenly, arms from behind. Arms that run over yours, hands massaging your wrists up to your shoulders. A distinct smell, the feeling of hot rubber, this is Luffy and he’s so, so warm. And his breathing is so heavy in your ear. He places his chin on your shoulder and it’s covered in drool, he begins to slowly lick your neck as he pulls you closer. You haven’t even said hi before he has you in his lap, squeezing your waist from behind. His licks turn to kisses, and then to bites, all over your upper back and then a wet, raw trail up to your jaw. He’s groaning with want, no words yet, he has too many things he wants to say.

“Hi Luffy,” you murmur with a little smile, reaching back to pet his face which is burning up and flushed. His tongue laps your cheek, he’s an excited puppy, you feel his teeth now so you ask gently, “what’s up?”

“Gonna eat you,” he says in a quiet, gravely voice, right into your ear. He whines after this in desire, in hunger, he’s lustful and desperate.

“Yeah?” You lean back against him. His arms are so tight, he’s trying to wrap you up and crush you like a python. And you can feel his heartbeat race in every muscle.

“Mh, ‘cause you’re real pretty. And I’m hungry so I’m gonna eat you.” He’s almost trying to take a bite out of your neck now, his teeth are sharp but his tongue is soothing, he moans because he likes the flavor. “Real pretty…” he hisses again beneath his breath.

You turn so you’re facing him. He needs a kiss right now and he doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and dive in, writhing tongue slipping greedily between your lips. And there’s a gentleness here too, his hand moves to the back of your head, stroking your hair adoringly. He isn’t going to hurt you he just needs you so, so bad and he doesn’t really know how or why or what he should say.

“God, Luffy.” You’re quiet, muffled by his mouth. And just hearing your voice again clouds his mind.

“Love ya, love ya so much,” he says in between moans and kisses. His nails scrape at your chest, delighted by softness, something to grab onto, more to squeeze. “I wanna play, please can we play?”

Trying to get on top of you he’s leaning over you and pulled by instinct, he wants you straddling him but he wants to be on top at the same time. He’s just a tangle of limbs right now, saliva dripping messily onto your neck.

“Of course I’ll play with you.” You’re blushing, eyes closing but he’s squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him, huge sparkling eyes as deep as the Mariana look down on you.

Luffy begins to laugh. Just a breathy giggle at first, blowing air between his teeth in a little joyful hiss. And then his mouth opens, he laughs more, louder, that’s what he does when he’s excited and when he knows he’s about to get something that he wants so, so bad. And then it fades to giggles again, and he stills for a moment, no movement except his chest. Rise and fall, rise and fall. He’s just looking at you.

And then he licks his lips. He dives in.

You make a small sound, surprised and unable to react in time, as Luffy plants his feet firmly on the deck, your thighs slamming his stomach as your legs are thrown over his shoulders. And you’re bent, folding tighter and tighter as Luffy crouches over you. His arms encircle your legs and your back and your waist and constrict again, his legs are spread and ready, twitching, hips pressing yours. He’s forgetting, probably, that you aren’t as flexible as he is.

“This is good, Lu, this right here,” you manage to choke out because you often have to remind him what your body can and can’t take.

He mumbles a little apology and does a once over with his eyes, he wants to make sure that you aren’t hurt but, at the same time, he’s letting his gaze linger on your body, on the silk slip that’s fallen as your waist curls upwards and your breasts are bare now, so delicious, he’s drooling again. You’re tasty, you’re his.

This must take so much strength, the way he’s perched on his toes over your body, his thigh muscles clench and ripple against yours. Shared sweat, shared warmth. His balance is perfect even as he reaches for your chest, rubbing, holding, kissing, now he’s kissing your lips, now your neck. He doesn’t want this ever to be over.

And he says, “I love ya so much.” That’s the third time he’s said it.

“I love you too,” you say with such joy even as you’re breathless still, but before you can finish he’s pressing his mouth to yours hungrily. You said you loved him and he wants to taste it — the flavor of those words — it’s all-consuming.

“Tastes so good, mmh,” Luffy gasps as he takes you into this hot, wet kiss, “can’t wait, wanna play now.”

You’re not sure how he did it from this position, but his pants are off, kicked to the side. His cock is aching and leaking already and smoldering against your stomach, you can see it from here, throbbing and waiting, skin so smooth and thin and perfect like auburn moth wings over red-hot iron.

His chest crashes against yours in a tidal wave now because this new vulnerability makes him want to be closer. Now you can’t see it anymore but god, it’s so hard it feels like he’s denting you, so long and thick like a python, he’s still holding you, and squeezing more and more. Like a python.

With so much pressure he wraps his hands around lower, lower, snapping your panties, thrusting against your stomach in a way that shakes your body but he’s got you. You’re in his arms.

Begging eyes so close to yours, mouth on your lips and cheek, breathing so fast and so warm and he whispers, “can I?” And it’s so scratchy and kind and needy so deep in his throat.

So you pull his hair, you kiss him, yes.

Rolling back on his heels he finds his way, sloppy thrusts that don’t quite make it but god when they do, he isn’t going all the way even though his every nerve craves you but you’re his baby and he can’t hurt you.

Thick tip so soft and gentle, butterfly wings and flowers, impossibly hard and aching in heartbeat rhythms against your clit, moving you with every pulse, searching and desperate like a moth to a flame he finds you.

Shivers that make you clench your legs against his shoulders as he rubs and rubs back and forth and hugs your body and bites your cheek and murmurs, “that feel good? Ya like that?” with such curiosity like he really wants to know, he wants an answer.

“Perfect, so perfect. Please, I need you.” Words in his ear like shooting stars lighting up his body like the darkening sky. He’s made of ochre sunbeams.

He smiles and laughs and with another quick kiss he’s finding you more. Muscles flex and as he leans forward onto you he’s there, right there. He starts to moan loudly and whisper about how happy he is but it’s Luffy so it’s not a whisper, really. He’s not even inside you yet. He’s just so, so excited.

“Feels so good, so good. C’mere,” he giggles against you happily and makes sure he holds you as he’s pushing into your body, you’re filled in an instant and more and more every second.

Amid the panting and moaning you can almost hear that heartbeat and those pulsing veins buried in you. You’re dented again but from the inside now. With a little mh, Luffy finds his home so, so deep. You’re in a cocoon of warmth, wrapped in the sun, filled by the sun, melting.

“My girl’s so pretty, gotta bite, gonna bite.” Those teeth again and their practiced, hungry chewing. He swallows on instinct, abs vibrating and tightening against your skin as his stomach purs. And he’s rocking into you, back and forth on his toes, enjoying that deep, tight massage. He’s inside you, he’s trying to eat you, trying to get you inside him, too.

You’re going to be covered in marks but that’s ok. You like hearing him groan and laugh against you, and something about that swallowing, his throat flexing against your shoulder, that’s so beautiful to feel.

“Mine, ‘kay? Mine.” Luffy’s talking the whole time through his laughter and you’re swept away by him as he continues to crush your body from the inside over and over, tidal waves on a cliff’s edge, he makes whirlpools in you.

“This is so fun, you’re so fun, so pretty,” he keeps huffing and you hear this over and over as he squirms and wriggles on your body, thrusts shallower because he can’t bear to pull out of you any more than he needs to. Luffy wants to be close and never leave.

He tries to have conversations with you that just spill into unending praise. You’re too dizzy and lost in this world of feeling to respond most of the time but you kiss him whenever he wants, you tell him he’s beautiful and that he feels so good whenever your voice is there.

He’s swelling in you, veins bulging and rubbing so far up inside you that you feel him throbbing in your stomach, his twitching cock encouraged by your clenching, leaking, every muscle wracked with craving and overstimulation.

“Gonna fill you up ‘cause you’re real pretty,” he laughs against your lips, twisting into you deeper still, “gotta make ya all mine.” He still sounds so sweet and so soft, just a playful little puppy.

Even as he groans and begins to pump you full.

Love feels like this, love is raw and endless like this, love makes you float away. You close your eyes and now he lets you, you just hold him, you let the rhythm carry you and it feels like so long until he’s done. He doesn’t want to pull away but his legs give out. His knees finally hit the deck, he squeals in delight as he’s pulled from you with a wet little sound. But he’s still hugging you, of course.

“Heh, felt so good.” Luffy’s smiling with all his teeth, his chin sparkles with saliva, and your neck is dripping too, “thanks, darlin’. Love ya so much”

“Love you too. I love you, Luffy.” You don’t want to ever leave from his arms and you feel so empty now. But you’re soaked in him, neck and thighs both shining.

His hand rests gently on your back, helping you sit up, your slip falls back down over your body and it’s all wrinkled now. Luffy smooths your hair, he pets you, now is when he just wants to stare at you and not say a word. But when he sees the blooming red and purple trailing from your ear to your collarbone he starts to shake a little bit.

“Aw, this ain’t hurtin’ right?” he murmurs, tracing the bruises and teeth marks with his fingers so softly, carefully. There’s no blood, it’s just glossy with layers of drool, he’s proud but he needs to check on you first.

“No, it’s not bad. Don’t worry, I like it.” You kiss him right next to his mouth but he turns, quickly, because he wants your lips. “Whole crew’s gonna know I’m yours, that’s all.”

This makes him smile. He sees no reason for embarrassment or shame, you’re his so he can bite you when he wants. You feel his muscles twitch against you again as he laughs. And he’s flushed all red, hibiscus on his warm honey skin. Those eyes, dark brown eyes melting with that lavender of the sunset which is almost gone now, fading silently. So orchid blue then, on loving, deep Bulgarian rose.

“Good! I want ‘em to.” he rubs his head against your cheek, still biting just a little. And now he’s moving like he wants to pick you up and carry you, even though you’re both tired. But it’s because he’s hungry, and in that throaty little voice he asks, “wanna go get snacks?”

#blushing rn #luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #one piece smut #luffy smut #luffy x reader smut #luffy x f!reader

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earthtooz · 1 year

Text

fluff with a lot of angst, reader is injured and in hospital for one scene but it's not graphic, lovesick!bakugou

during the many years you’ve loved bakugou katsuki, you have only seen him cry three times.

the first time, you were alarmed. where you fell asleep on the couch awaiting your boyfriend’s return, you did not expect to wake up to the sound of sniffles and the sight of drying tears.

“katsuki? what’s the matter?” you asked cautiously, immediately sitting up to wipe his tears away.

your touch, like a healing balm to the blond, lets you treat him like glass when both of you know he is nothing akin to fragile.

“‘s nothin’,” he gruffly huffs, voice cracking a little.

“if you say so,” you murmur skeptically, knowing better than to prod when it’s bakugou involved.

“were ya waitin’ for me?”

you nod. “i thought we could eat together but- what time is it?”

“almost nine.”

“oh. i thought we could eat dinner together but your patrol must have ended a lot later.”

his heart aches pitifully, worsening when he watches you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “‘m sorry, i didn’t mean to come home so late.”

“it’s okay, i get it.”

“we can still eat together, if that’s okay,” he grumbles, looking away bashfully and missing the way your face brightens.

“that sounds lovely, i’ll go heat up dinner-“

“-no, i’ll do it. it’s my fault for coming home later, i’ll call you when it's done.”

bakugou is out of your sight before you can argue any further. as you watch your boyfriend disappear, you’re left pondering on the couch as to why he was acting so uncharacteristically. did he have a bad day? did something happen at work? was he unable to save someone? that’s can't be the reason, he always-

“dinner’s done!” your boyfriend calls from the kitchen, disrupting your thoughts.

when you asked, it didn't sound like he had a terrible day, in fact it sounds like he had a successful patrol, but you cannot fathom any other reason for his melancholy, but if he’s forgotten about it, then you will too.

but... bakugou doesn’t forget. he still remembers when midoriya first alluded to the inheritance of his quirk from all might, he remembers the night vision goggles kirishima broke when trying to save him that one time, he remembers your favourite things and what makes you happy; he remembers everything.

and he’ll never forget that the tears he shed tonight were over the fact that bakugou will never get to show you how much he loves you.

bakugou katsuki, for the first time, realised just how painfully human he is.

he has a heart that beats for you, limbs that longingly ache to be near you whenever he’s not, a mind devoted to you and a cursed mouth so incapable of expressing it all.

if he could, he would wrestle the night sky to give its stars to you instead because you love stars. you love the stupid things in life that bakugou can't give. he can’t give you everything you could ever want and with that realisation, bakugou discovered just how beatable he was.

you may never know the multitude of bakugou’s love for you, and that fact alone brings him to tears as he gazed upon your sleeping figure on the couch, resting peacefully until his arrival.

the second time, you wake up confused.

the lights in the room are dim, there's a machine beeping intermittently and you think it's a heartbeat monitor but you don't really think too hard about it because your body hurts.

you have to blink a few times to get the blurriness out of your eyes, but you eventually comprehend the sterile walls of a hospital room. then the memories come back one by one, a patrol gone awry, evacuating citizens and... ah, being slammed into a wall back-first by the villain. explains the pain.

then you register the looming figure beside your bed, a pair of widened vermillion eyes gazing into your own with untameable blond hair to match, you can't help the smile from spreading on your face when you see your lover.

"hey," you cough weakly, throat dry and scratchy from lack of use.

next thing you know, bakugou's bulky figure is draped over yours, forehead resting on your chest as his arms gently snake around your torso, bringing you into his chest and pressing himself firmly against you.

you feel him; his relief, his sorrow, his devotion, his painful sobs as he shakes against you and it kills you that the only thing you have the strength to do is run a hand through his hair. you want to kiss him, to tell him that it's okay and that there's nothing to cry about, that you're here and nothing will change that, but you're so very sore and barely in tact.

"don't do this shit again," he threatens weakly and you feel his tears seep through your hospital gown. "you had me so fuckin' worried, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, i can't believe you'd do this to me, do you know how much it sucked to be without you?"

"sorry, katsuki," you whisper and he looks up at you, glossy eyes and quivering lip.

"promise me you'll never do this again."

cupping his cheeks with your hands, there's a rush of deja vu as your thumbs catch his tears. "i don't know how realistic that promise is given that this is my job-"

"-your job is to save lives, not go crashin' into buildings, idiot."

you laugh gently, a stabbing pain making itself known in your gut when you do. your wince doesn't go unnoticed by bakugou, who knows you better than the back of his hand and his heart lurches at the slightest evidence that you're in pain. "still, i won't make promises i can't keep, you know how our jobs are, katsuki."

he frowns, furrowing his brows. "then i'll promise to always be there for you. don't go where i can't."

"that's not realistic."

"watch me."

"okay then, deal."

there are questions you still want answers to, but for now, you'll let the blond continue crying with his ear pressed against your chest.

(you won't ever know about the few days bakugou has spent in your hospital ward, absolutely miserable as he looks upon your gaze with anticipation. he hates how helpless he is, that he can't do anything to rid of this horrible feeling in his chest but wait for you to wake up. he hates that he can't any semblance of peace, he hates the man that love has made him, but most importantly, he hates being without you.

you won't ever know the struggle it was to get bakugou out of your room for even just an hour. midoriya and kirishima had to wrestle him in hopes of getting some proper food together, and yaomomo and todoroki had to literally block the door with various items to prevent his entrance.

you won't ever know how alienated bakugou felt, unable to face your shared home without you in it. without your music playing, without your shoes messily thrown at the genkan, without your comforting presence to return to when all is said and done, there isn't much of a home for bakugou.

you won't ever know how desperately bakugou clung to your hand, fiddling with it whenever he needed a safe haven.

you won't ever know the amount of tears the blond had shed by your side, hunched over your bed, with nothing and no one to comfort him but the sound of the heartbeat monitor.)

the third time, you cry too.

it's your wedding day.

when the news first came out, japan practically roared with excitement and anticipation for the special day that their two favourite heroes would wed. the enthusiasm has not dimmed down even months later, and now, as you're one door away from your lover, you feel it buzzing in your bones.

it all goes by in a blur. one second you're about to trip over yourself in nervousness and the next, you're walking down the aisle with a stunned bakugou failing to keep his composure at the altar. despite the amount of close friends and family around you, all you can see is the love of your life who looks at you with unmatched adoration and affection in those ruby irises of his.

up close, however, all you can see are the tears forming in his eyes, and his first sniffle takes everyone in the room by surprise. no doubt, this is their first and last time seeing their beloved hero cry.

more tears are shed and then, it's just waterworks from practically everyone in the room as bakugou breaks down even more.

thank goodness for a private wedding because you know he is never going to live it down if the press got their hands on this image.

a close friend of yours hands you a handkerchief and you wipe away bakugou's tears with a teasing smile, unable to keep your wobbly laughter at bay as your lover- japan's symbol of victory and heroism, turns to nothing but putty in your hands. he lets you treat him so delicately because you've seen him at his lowest, most shaken, and most unlovable, yet still decided to stay.

"sorry," he apologises as you dab at his tears, words reserved for you and you alone. "you're just so... divine. i can't believe i'm marryin' you."

you feel your first tear roll down your cheek and bakugou catches it before it can go too far, wiping it away.

"such an embarrassin' way to start our wedding," he grumbles.

"embarrassing for the both of us, but memorable no doubt," you try to reason.

"everything is memorable as long as i'm with you."

"such a sap," you whack his shoulder lightly. "have you been saving that line for today specifically?"

"you should wait til the vows. bet mine are better than yours."

"i didn't know you could be a poet."

"only for you."

"well then, i can't wait to find out what else you are, katsuki."

"i'll always be yours."

you laugh, "i'm glad to hear that 'cause i love you."

"i love you even more, i'm crying just to prove it."

"your tears are dangerous."

"yeah well, you're marryin' these tears so."

"like i said, i can't wait."

#don't talk to me abt this. this was so bad #lmk if there are warnings i missed #i'm pretty sure this is gn!reader i mean i'm gender neutral so hey if the shoe fits #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader

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cobrakaisb · 3 months

Text

always an angel, never a god

summary: the aftermath of luke’s failed quest to the garden of the hesperides includes a dirty motel, a new wound, and sharing a bed with his best friend.

word count: 2.8k

featuring: ONE BED TROPE, set pre-tlt, luke and reader both have crushes on each other, lowkey hurt-comfort, mentions of injuries/getting injured, death, angst with a tiny bit of fluff

“let’s just stop here for the night, then we can keep moving,” you begged, standing in the motel parking lot. luke was weary, eyeing the property distrustfully. “it doesn’t look safe,” he mumbled, hand fisting the strap of his worn blue backpack so tightly that his knuckles were white. “please,” you whispered, eyes shining with tears. it had been a rough couple of days, especially with the major losses you’d both suffered.

“just until tomorrow morning,” you begged. he sighed, but nodded his head. you exhaled a breath of relief, as your forehead came to rest on his shoulder. he stiffened, but relaxed under your soft touch. your lips ghosted against his shoulder, as you planted a soft, barely-there kiss on the faded green cloth. luke’s fingers gently brushed against the back of your hand, wrapping around your wrist. you lift your head from his shoulder, lacing your fingers together, and lead him towards the motel lobby.

it’s clearly rundown; the carpet floors are dirty and the room reeks of mildew and sweat, but neither of you complain. you're just happy to have access to a bed and a shower. luke walks up to the check in desk, ringing the small bell to alert the employee(s) that someone was here. a few minutes pass by, but then an older man comes out from the back room. he looks hesitantly between the two before asking, “can i help you folks?”

“we’d like a room please. just for tonight,” you explain, squeezing luke’s hand a little tighter as the man continues to stare you two down. you can’t imagine what you look like to him: bruised, battered, bleeding, and crying. not to mention luke’s face; the wound was still open and dripping blood every few seconds. you’d done what you could on the road to help stop the bleeding, but the only real way to heal it was going to be with stitches and deep disinfectant.

“just your luck, we have one room left,” he smiles, inputting something in the system before handing you a key. you smile tightly at him, feeling the tension in luke’s shoulders seeping into your bones. why would there only be one room left if the parking lot was empty? “thanks so much,” you replied, leading luke out of the lobby and towards your room on the second floor.

“i really don’t like it here,” he grumbled, setting his bag down on the floor once you entered the room. you toed off your worn out black converse, locking the door behind you as you rolled your eyes. “it’s just one night. besides we need to rest and regroup now that…” you started to say, but ended up pausing. it hurts to mention her; the wound in your heart is still fresh. you swallow, taking a deep breath before turning to luke, “let’s take care of your face.”

he nods, wordlessly following you into the bathroom. he watches as you grab the first aid kit from the backpack and turn on the hot water. he waits patiently, occasionally admiring you, while you wet one of the few provided face clothes. “this might sting,” you whispered as you began to clean away at the blood and grime caked onto his cheek. he winces, gripping onto you for support.

“it’s okay. you’re okay. i’m almost done,” you said, trying to soothe him. instead of watching your motions, he looks at your face. your eyes, ones which normally shone bright with joy, were dull; the vibrant colors muted by your sadness. he wondered if you felt pity for him and his failure, or if you were still coping. this quest wasn’t meant to be a three person one, but you refused to let him partake in the challenge alone. he couldn't help but blame his dad for your sorrows; everything always came back to the gods.

“can you sit down on the toilet for me? i want to clean the cut, and i need a better vantage point,” you explained, putting the towel on the side of the sink as you opened the first aid kit. he complied to your orders, taking a seat on the closed toilet. he waited with bated breath, as you dug around in the kit, looking for whatever it was you needed. finally, you made eye contact with him, a small smile on your face as you held up a cotton ball and bottle of peroxide.

luke groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “no, absolutely not,” he mumbled, moving his head away from you. he froze, however, when your palm rested against his uninjured cheek. “please luke, i don’t want it to get infected,” you whispered, voice soft and thick with emotion. his brown eyes meet yours; they’re swimming with worry. “okay,” he relaxes, rolling his shoulders back to release some of the tension in them. you smile softly, trying your best to be reassuring as you remove your hand from his cheek to pour a small amount of peroxide onto the cotton.

“this is going to sting,” you warned. luke takes a deep breath, and subtly nods for you to continue. as gently as possible, you begin to clean the deep wound running from his eye to his jaw. luke hisses, his right hand gripping onto your thigh. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you mumbled, but you continued your ministrations. luke doesn’t answer, simply gritting his teeth and keeping a hold on your thigh. after a few more swipes, you pause to inspect the wound. your hand grips his jaw, and you turn his face to the right; satisfied with your work, you throw the used items in the small garbage.

he watches as your attention focuses back on the first aid kit. you’re digging through the small red box, searching for the required items to stitch up his face. despite his dire situation, the crushing weight of worthlessness and embarrassment, and his most likely infected wound, he couldn’t help but feel serene. being here with you was exactly what he needed; you were all that he needed.

“okay so i have the needle and thread. do you want to shower first? otherwise you won’t be able to,” you explained, moving back to stand between his legs. luke’s hands came to rest on the small of your back, fingers creeping under the hem of your tee shirt. “i’ll shower, then you can stitch me up,” he agreed, humming softly as you absentmindedly twirled one of his black curls around your finger. “perfect. i’ll be right outside,” you whispered, trying to step out of his hold, but his arms just tightened around you.

“stay,” he pleaded, brown eyes widening. you sighed, a conflicted look in your eyes. “i can’t lose you,” he whispered. “i won’t lose you,” he continued, resting his head against your abdomen. you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. everything was getting to be too much, on the both of you. “i’m not going anywhere angel, i promise,” you replied, fingers carding through his hair in a feeble attempt to soothe him. he lets out a shaky breath in response, and you can feel his tears seeping through your tee shirt.

“it’s okay. i’m right here,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice from cracking. your fingers still card through his hair as you lean down and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. this whole quest has been a pot of emotions, and it seems like it’s finally boiled over the edge, for both you and luke. you want to let your guard down, and crumple to the floor and sob, but you don’t. luke needs you right now.

a few minutes pass by, but he calms down. he sits up straight, arms still holding you in a vice grip. “i’m sorry,” he mumbled, and you aren’t sure what he’s apologizing for. “there’s nothing to apologize for. i’m here to support you, whatever that looks like,” you explained, cupping his jaw with a small reassuring smile on your face. “will you just sit outside the door? i need to know you’re there,” he said, reverting back to the original conversation. “whatever you want,” you answered. once the words leave your mouth, his arms unravel from your waist. you step back, giving him room to stand. he pulls you right into his chest. “we’ll talk later,” he promised, waiting for your hum of agreement to let go.

“shower. you reek,” you teased, trying to bring some joy back into the depressing atmosphere. he finally cracks a smile as he pretends to smell his underarms. “a shower is a good call,” he agreed, lightly pushing you towards the door, a sign that he wants to get changed. you obliged, leaving the room just as the sound of gushing water arises.

luke takes his time in the shower, letting the water drip down his clean body. he knows you’re sitting right outside the door, just like you promised, because he could hear your soft humming and mutterings. he was angry, and he refused to let that anger out on you. instead, it stews inside of him; all the resentment, annoyance, and disappointment. he was supposed to come back a hero, they all were. instead, he’s returning a failure, and with one less friend. he thinks about his father, who recycled a quest from the history lessons at camp and refused to help. he thinks of you, his pillar of strength. he thinks of beth, hoping that she reached elysium, where she belonged. his mind wanders back to camp half-blood, and the faces of his siblings and all the unclaimed children fill him with dread. what will they think, now that they’re head counselor failed?

“are you almost done?” you asked, pulling him from the depths of his mind. he shakes his head gently, water spraying from his soaked curls. “just finishing up,” he answered, turning the water off. “i put your pajamas on the sink,” you replied, closing the door so he has some semblance of privacy. “thanks,” he answered, and the sound of the opening curtain muffled your reply. he takes a couple extra minutes to dry off and pull on his pants, purposefully leaving the shirt to the side.

“okay i’m decent,” he shouted, and the door cracked open. he sees you standing there with your eyes closed, and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “i told you i was decent!” he laughed, and you opened your eyes with a giggle. “i just had to make sure,” you replied, your usual smile encompassing your cheeks. he playfully shakes his head at your words. “whatever you say,” he said, and reclaimed his seat on the toilet lid.

you took your spot between his legs, and his hands found their home on your waist. “this might hurt, and take a while because i have to go slow, but it’ll help you heal,” you said, holding up the needle with a shaky hand. luke grabbed your wrist, steadying the shaking. “hey, it’s gonna be fine. i trust you,” he mumbled, placing a soothing kiss on your palm. “i know, but i hate seeing you hurt,” you answered, taking a deep breath. finally, once you’ve calmed down, you begin stitching up the wound. luke remained still through the entire process, but you could see the pain in his eyes. in a matter of minutes, and with the quick snip of the scissors, you tied off the stitches.

“done,” you announced, tapping on his forearm. luke thanks you, and gets you from his spot, admiring his reflection in the mirror. “handsome as ever,” you whispered, heat creeping up your cheeks when you realize he heard you. he blushes at your words, but still manages to throw a cocky smirk your way. he doesn’t comment on your words, instead he pushes you towards the shower. “get cleaned up so we can sleep,” he mumbled, closing the door on his way out. you’re frozen, forgetting how to function, but once you regroup, you take the time to shower.

it’s longer than usual, but you deserved it after everything this quest has put you through. while you’re standing under the showerhead, letting the water wash over you in waves, you can’t help but blame yourself. everything that went wrong could be pinpointed back to you. you and beth were supposed to take care of the dragon, but you were distracted by your worry, turning to check on luke. in that split second, everything went downhill from there. you should have just remained focused, followed the plan, and none of this would have happened.

“i think you should get out of the shower now, before the motel sends us their water bill,” luke whispered, opening the door to the bathroom. you clear your throat, blinking harshly. were your cheeks wet from the water or tears? “i’ll be out in a minute,” you promised, and luke agreed. once the door closed, and you were back in the privacy of the bathroom, you stepped out of your sanctuary. it’s when you dried yourself off that you realize you forgot to grab your sleepwear, but thankfully luke had you covered. sitting on the bathroom counter were a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, along with your hairbrush. you felt yourself smiling gratefully at the gesture, and started your nightly routine.

he heard the sound of the door opening before he saw you. you were wearing the clothes he’d laid out, and your hair was dripping wet, despite your efforts to dry it. you threw the towel on the floor, letting it sit in a sopping wet heap, before climbing into the bed. he didn’t think you’d comment on the fact that the motel manager seemed to be playing matchmaker, and he was right. you lied down silently, pulling the covers up to your chest as you turned to face him.

“it’s all my fault,” you whispered, eyes glossing over as you looked at him. luke’s eyebrows furrowed, and a confused look took over his previously serene face. “what?” he replied, uncertainly. “everything with beth, your scar, the quest. it’s all my fault,” you continued. he was baffled by the fact that you genuinely believed that. something of this caliber, of his undoing, was not your fault. “why would you think that?” he asked, genuine curiosity present in his tone. “i was supposed to distract the dragon, we both were, but i was nervous. i looked away for just a second, and the dragon maimed beth. then came for you,” you answered, voice cracking and shaking. luke’s hand cupped your cheek, wiping away at the lone tear before it could drip down the bridged of your nose.

“beth died a hero, she knew what she was signing up for,” he whispered, thumb rubbing over the apple of your cheek. he wanted to reassure you that none of it was your fault, that nobody would blame you for what happened, that he didn’t blame you. “the blame doesn’t fall on you,” luke continued, staring softly into your eyes. “never,” he finished, kissing the tip of your nose.

“but she’s gone. and your quest…” you trailed off, more tears brimming at your water line. “my quest was stupid anyway,” he replied, pulling you closer to him. “it was never serious. not to him,” and luke didn’t need to specify who the him was. “but it was important to you,” you said, finally meeting his brown eyes, “so it was important to me.” luke sighed at your words, his eyelashes fanning his cheekbones. “you’re the most important thing to me angel. i’ve stopped craving his approval long before this,” luke explained.

he wished that he kept his closed so that he didn’t have to see the shocked look on your face. or the pity flashing behind your eyes. he knew, deep-down, that you didn’t pity him, you just felt bad for everything he’s faced. you felt guilty for the relationship with your parent, when he had none.

“he loves you luke, you must know that. maybe not as much as i do, but there has to be some compassion there,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled your foreheads together. “nobody can love me as much as you do,” luke whispered, lips ghosting over your skin from the proximity. “of course not, angel,” you answered, closing your eyes. he knew the stress of the quest and day was taking over you, so he let you fall into the arms of hypnos.

when you were really asleep, he whispered the words he’d been dying to say: “i love you.”

the way i am not strong enough to be your man // always an angel, never a god

#luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #pjo luke #percy jackon and the olympians #cobrakaisb writing

2K notes · View notes

forlix · 4 months

Text

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways.

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it.

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him.

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige.

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter.

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds.

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—”

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.”

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year.

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen.

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia.

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt.

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds.

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds.

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds.

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through?

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.”

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

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merchen-aeravellae · 4 months

Text

Deep in the Forest

Yandere Enemy x Reader

Warning: decapitation, death, war mentions

Two kingdoms engulfed in a conflict that spans generations, peace is no longer an option, and the thirst for revenge permeates the entire surrounding land. But battles are no longer the darkest things you can encounter in this desolate place.

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Yandere Enemy, who is a warrior, trains day and night with the purpose of protecting his rulers and his people from the threat posed by the neighboring kingdom.

Yandere Enemy, like the rest of the inhabitants of Nocheblanca kingdom, grew up with the idea that the Rosazul kingdom was eternal enemies of Nocheblanca and should be eliminated, but they are currently in a temporary ceasefire.

Yandere Enemy was training deep in the forest that connects both kingdoms, as he did every day, when he heard a noise behind a tree.

Yandere Enemy was surprised to find another person outside the grounds of the kingdom but quickly shifted to a battle stance when he noticed that it was a person from Rosazul.

Yandere Enemy expected to fight you, but all you did was raise your hands in a peaceful gesture and stepped back to give him space.

Yandere Enemy examined you from head to toe, and by your attire, he could tell you were a type of healer. He lowered his sword slightly but remained alert in case you made any movements that could indicate a fight.

Yandere Enemy only looked at you for a few more minutes, and when he realized you weren't leaving, he decided to leave first to break the awkwardness that had enveloped both of you. However, that wouldn't be the last time you two would encounter each other.

Yandere Enemy began to notice your presence every time he went to the forest to train, and no matter how much he changed his location, you always seemed to find him. At first, he threatened to kill you to be left alone, but when that didn't seem to work, he simply ignored you.

Yandere Enemy injured his hand one day while training but decided to continue as if nothing had happened. When you noticed this, you decided to help him. He refused at first, but when he realized you wouldn't take no for an answer, he had no choice but to accept.

Yandere Enemy, after a few weeks of this event, started tolerating you a bit more, and even had a couple of conversations that weren't threats. Unbeknownst to him, he was starting to feel comfortable with your presence.

Yandere Enemy, who began to hate himself, after months of interacting with you, came to the conclusion that he had developed romantic feelings for you. These feelings were forbidden, but he couldn't stop them he didn't want them to stop and they grew with each passing day.

Yandere Enemy knows that this would be considered treason to his homeland, but every time he saw you smile, that thought faded from his mind.

Yandere Enemy gathered the courage to confess his feelings to you, fearing rejection or the possibility that you might never want to see him again. He became the happiest man in the world when you admitted to having feelings for him too.

Yandere Enemy no longer went to the forest to improve his fighting skills; now his reason for going was you. He always brought an object that might interest you, or he would wait for you with a picnic.

Yandere Enemy was surprised when you told him that you had knowledge of healing and medicinal herbs because it had been a practice in your family for generations. It was also the reason why you were in the forest the first time you met.

Yandere Enemy, knowing you two couldn't hide forever and fearing what would happen if both were discovered, he asked begged you to escape together. Far away from both kingdoms, far from the fear of being separated, he wanted to find a place where you could create a life in peace, a place where you could be happy.

Yandere Enemy jumped for joy when you accepted his proposal. He couldn't help but embrace you, and for that brief moment, everything was happiness, until it wasn't.

Yandere Enemy returned to his home in Nocheblanca to start packing all his valuable belongings and clothes for the long journey ahead for both of you. However, halfway through packing, screams and lamentations were heard outside his house.

Yandere Enemy discovered that the heir of Nocheblanca and his guards had been killed while they were out hunting, including Yandere Enemy's brother, who was one of the personal guards of the Prince.

Yandere Enemy saw red the moment he learned that his brother had been murdered, probably by warriors from Rosazul. At that moment, all the hatred he had for them, which had been buried deep in his mind because you had occupied it, resurfaced.

Yandere Enemy, who began to plan his revenge, completely forgetting the plan to escape with you. His brother was one of the few people important to him, and now he was gone. Convincing the population of Nocheblanca to attack Rosazul was not difficult for him, and by the dawn of the sixth day, Rosazul had fallen. The royal family was in the dungeons, awaiting execution, but not before being tortured in the cruelest manner possible.

Yandere Enemy had a reality check at that moment. In his pursuit of revenge, he left you standing on the same day you two were supposed to escape together. Panic and terror consumed him as he searched for you among the prisoners, in the forest, and in the place he feared the most—among the corpses. But there was no trace of you.

Yandere Enemy became a war hero; now he had enough power to save you from the cruel fate of the rest of the inhabitants of Rosazul but it seemed like you had vanished into the air. He searched for you for two months and as more time passed, madness began to take hold of his mind, and regret consumed his bones.

Yandere Enemy decided to kill the heir to the throne, wanting to take revenge on the person "responsible" for keeping him away from you. If it weren't for the prince and his guards, the two of you would be living your best lives in a distant place.

Yandere Enemy didn't stop there. To make him suffer more, he decided that his entire family should witness his inevitable death. The guillotine and the prince were ready, with all other family members in a row, bound arms and sacks over their heads.

Yandere Enemy, who witnessed the exact moment when the heir's head was severed and when the sacks were removed from the heads of the royalty, he wanted to die at that moment. Now he understood why he never found your whereabouts, why he couldn't locate you—because you were with your family, in the dungeon.

Yandere Enemy never imagined that you were a member of the royalty of Rosazul, but he couldn't be angry with you for that. He knows that everyone makes mistakes, and he forgives you for not telling him earlier, just as you will forgive him for what he did to your kingdom and family.

Yandere Enemy, who went to the dungeons in the middle of the night to see you, found only a pitiful sight. You were handcuffed to the wall, beaten and wearing dirty and torn clothes, your gaze lost somewhere on the grimy wall.

Yandere Enemy approached you with the intention of hugging you, but he didn't expect you to scream. Every attempt he made to touch you ended in screams and your lamentations. The few words you spoke were filled with anger and hatred directed towards him.

Yandere Enemy is convinced that you only need a new place far away from others. He tries to talk to you about the plans you two had before to lift your spirits, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Yandere Enemy knows that the longer you stay here, the more likely it is that you'll be killed, so he steals you away while everyone is asleep, taking you far away to a hidden place where no one will find you both. He is sure that this will bring back the old you, the one who was deeply in love with him. He had to knock you out, tie you up, and cover your mouth in case you wake up early, but it will be worth it.

Yandere Enemy who found a cabin deep in the forest connecting to another kingdom, "mysteriously" the former owners disappeared, and now it belongs to the two of you.

Yandere Enemy knows that you still fear him, but not for long. He will make you love him again, and if it still doesn't work, he won't let you go. He prefers to have you even if you hate him for the rest of your life than not have you at all.

Yandere Enemy "I refuse to let you go, I don't care if you hate me, curse me, or hit me. We will always be together, whether you want it or not."

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Extra information, Nocheblanca is known for its warriors while Rosazul for its healers.

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misslovasstuff · 5 months

Text

Writing prompt: Them taking about their lover

op men x fem!reader

with: Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Buggy.

author’s note: oh to be described by hot pirates that would die for me hehe. Enjoy ~

please support me here (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)：ko-fi

Sanji:

“Ah, - he rests his elbows on the table, pupils dilated and somehow taken the form of an heart as his face rests on his palms. - she…”

The moment you are mentioned in the conversation, Sanji completely melts. His mind now travels distant lands where he imagines you and his surroundings become dust.

“She completely devastates me. - he closes his eyes and starts describing you. - Eyes that lure me in even with the shortest of glance, a smile that determines my fate, the touch of those hands that are grown among prickles of roses and yet have remained so soft that when caressing my skin so gently, I feel like I am healed from everything that has hurt me. Ah, for my love I could talk for hours. She… she is someone I thought I could ever meet. A miracle.”

Zoro

He puts his sake down for a moment, eyes lowered as he looks down whilst thinking. Suddenly he chuckles and shakes his head.

“That woman will be the death of me. - Zoro says, leaning against the chair with a sigh and a smile. - She’s an open book, easy to understand, at least for me. The way she smiles and lightens up every time she sees me… it warms my heart. I hear my name falling out her lips and my whole body just shivers from the sound of her voice. Sometimes while I’m training she’ll walk by to visit me. Those are the times I cherish a lot since we don’t get to be alone together for a long time. Small pecks she gives me during the day, notes that she sticks to my swords, lipstick marks on my clothes…- his pushes his head back, staring at the ceiling as he covers his bashful face. - What a woman she is… I can never get enough of her.”

Luffy

“Ah, she’s amazing! - his eyes shine brightly at the mention of your name. - we have known each other for a while now.”

Luffy smiles, voice deepening as his cheeks turn slightly pink.

“We met as she tried to save my life. That type of courage, I’ve seen only in a few people. - he begins explaining. - Anyone that looks at her can feel how genuine she is: her kindness… she has helped so many people and yet fails to see how she has helped me the most by opening my heart to so many new experiences. I don’t know what it is, perhaps I’m always too full when I look at her and my stomach feels heavy, my eyes get fixated on her as she watches over the horizon, the one I used to observe but now I completely ignore it, as if I’ve found something more beautiful to look forward to.”

Buggy

“Uh?? Why would you ask me about her?”- with his voice high pitched eyebrow raised, Buggy is taken a bit aback but soon calms down his protective instinct. - Well, there’s no reason for you to know but I’ll say it anyways because I’m so proud of my girl.”

He smirks, crossing his legs as he sits comfortably whilst beginning his description:

“A total babe, tall and curvy, so beautiful that my hands shake upon first touching her. - his eyes soften a bit, so does his voice. - Her laugh is the most precious thing ever in my world. She chuckles at my jokes and makes me laugh too. Not only is she fun, but my sweetheart is my biggest support. There is no one who believes in me like her. And… if I can become the man that she hopes I can be, then I could make her the happiest, like she makes me. A man like me saw her and truly believed that I had found the treasure that was meant for me and I’m willing to guard her with my life.”

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cosmicbucky · 7 months

Text

verity

summary: an inadvertently broken heart and a girls' night in can only lead to one thing: you drunkenly confronting the very man who broke your heart in the first place - aka your best friend, bucky barnes pairing: bucky barnes x female reader word count: 3253

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk with friends, pet names, sad bucky, sad reader, drunk confessions, swearing, misunderstandings, reader gets sick (vomit), fluff, kinda friends to lovers (??)

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The music flowed through the living room around you, quiet enough to not overpower the conversations you were having with your friends, but loud enough for you to know what you were swaying in your seat to.

It had been a while since you had a girls' night, though you were all but forced into this one; it was made clear by Nat that your presence was not an option - you were the only reason you were all gathered here now, each of you at least a bottle or two in.

At first you resisted. You wanted nothing more than to wallow alone in your room, watching trash TV and crying over cheesy scenes. It wasn't that you didn't love the company you had right now, you just wanted other company. You wanted the same company you had every day for the last year. The same company that became your only solace ever since it took a literal bullet for you without thought just to keep you safe. The same company that read your favourite books so you had someone to talk to about them. The same company that sat with you and watched all your favourite shows so they could get a better glimpse of who you are and what you like. The same company you thought you were finally getting somewhere with.

It felt like you got hit by a truck when the words "You know Bucky's been dating?" nonchalantly left Sam's mouth one day while you were having lunch. You didn't want to know more about it. You didn't want to know who they were, how the two met, or what they did for a living. You didn't want to be told anything other than the fact Sam was joking, that what you thought you had with Bucky really was real and not just in your head. Sam never said anything close to that, though.

Bucky never brought up the dates to you, and you almost felt that was even worse than if he did. Why did he not want to tell you? Were you really not as close as you thought? Did he not trust you enough to tell you such a thing? Your thoughts continuously spiraled over the next few days, stealing away your self confidence and the air from your lungs. Nothing was the same anymore. You thought you knew where you stood with Bucky. You thought it all meant something. All the stares from across the room, the lingering touches, the 'just because' gifts, the movie nights, the sleepovers, all of it. But it meant nothing. You read it all wrong. And now it's been two weeks since you were able to look at him long enough for you to even say hi to him, let alone have a conversation with him.

Bucky noticed the shift the moment it happened; when you slid ever so slightly away from him when he tried to hold you in his arms like he did every movie night. He noticed when the smile stopped reaching your eyes. He noticed when you stopped showing up for dinners with the gang every night. He noticed when you couldn't hold his gaze anymore. He noticed that you two just weren't the same, and it killed him. It killed him because he didn't know what he did, and he tried everything under the sun to get things back to the way they were, but nothing worked.

Everyone noticed when his demeanor changed. His fuse was shorter, his temper was stronger. He spent even more time in the training room, pummeling and destroying bag after bag until his knuckles were bloody; letting himself heal overnight only to do it all again the next day. He shamelessly threw a dining chair into a wall when Tony made a joke about how you must have smartened up and finally got sick of him, and his expression was so murderous that a Code White was called, effectively resulting in him being locked down in his room for a full 24 hours - he ended up staying in there even after the lockdown was over. The only reason he started leaving the confines of his room was to spend time with his best girl, and he didn't have that anymore.

All your friends were sick of it. They didn't know what was going on, and you both refused to talk about it. No one could even mention the others' name to either of you anymore without fear of having the nearest object thrown at their head.

So plans were formed, and you now sat on the couch with a glass in your hand as you mindlessly swayed to whatever song was currently playing.

"Who is in charge of this music? It is awful!" Yelena stated from her spot on the floor, taking yet another shot.

"I picked it," you crooned, stilling your movements as you looked at her. "It's completely free of attachments to you-know-who."

A cohesive muttering came from all the women before you, and Yelena cleared her throat. "It is not bad," she corrected with a grimace, taking pity on you.

"Are you drunk enough to tell us what happened now?" Nat asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

Downing the rest of your glass, you looked at her with a thoughtful expression for a minute. "No," you concluded, filling your glass again.

"Okay, this is torture. Time for a drinking game!" Wanda exclaimed, standing from her chair. "Everyone take a mustache and tape it to the TV. We're putting on a trash show and drinking whenever it lines up with someone."

You beamed with excitement, ready to both watch crappy TV and get drunk - gods know you needed at least one night to forget about Bucky.

And forget you did. You can't remember the last time you were this far gone, the last time you had this much fun. The drinking game was very successful; it even got Yelena and Nat a little tipsy, which was not easy to do. No one said anything when you went a little harder than everyone else, when you drank a little more, taking shots when you weren't technically supposed to. You haven't smiled like this in weeks, and they weren't going to take that away from you.

Your giggles carried on down the hallway, the echoes of your voice, of your laughter, music to everyone's ears - having gone so long now without hearing it. It captured someone's attention, socked feet being dragged towards the sound before even knowing what was happening, a seat being taken in the kitchen just to be that much closer, eyes gazing across at you, a face with such an amorous expression it would have made anyone who saw it sick.

You audibly gasped as you caught sight of him, your eyes meeting his for the briefest of seconds before he looked away, contemplating whether he should go back to his room or not.

"Oh, my god. Why is he here?" you asked the girls, unable to take your eyes off of him.

"Why is who here?" Kate asked, following your gaze. "Him? What are you talking about he-"

"We don't know!" Nat chimed in, sending a warning glare to Kate that you were too distracted to see.

"Why don't you go talk to him and find out?" Wanda suggested, quickly catching on to Nat's motive.

You shook your head vehemently, making yourself momentarily dizzy. "Noooo. He broke my heart, Wan. What would I even say?" you replied with a whine, sinking into the couch as you lifted the glass to your lips again.

She shared a look with Nat, two looks that said 'fuck, maybe we shouldn't let her do this' and 'what the hell does she mean by that?' You couldn't decipher either, though. The blood was rushing in your ears as you stared across the room again, torn between going to confront this beautiful, asshole of a man and staying in the comfort of the living room.

Before you could really think it through - and in your state, it's not like you really could anyway - you abruptly stood from the couch, taking a few seconds to steady yourself on your feet.

"Fuck him," you muttered to yourself, vaguely aware of the girls trying to get your attention as you marched across the floor.

His head snapped up when he heard you coming, his enhanced hearing paired with the fact you weren't exactly in a graceful state didn't give you the advantage of sneaking up on him.

"Hi, doll," he said once you approached him.

Had you been in a more collected frame of mind, you probably would have noticed how quiet his voice was, how strained it was from the fact he was holding his breath in the hopes the two of you would go back to normal. You would have noticed the pain, the hurt, the confusion, and the hope dancing around in his eyes; making the blue that used to be your favourite colour now dull and stormy.

You didn't notice, though. All you noticed was the burning pain in your heart that was supposed to be gone after all those drinks, but just one look at the man before you brought everything back.

"You can't call me that anymore," you declared, shaking your head so much it made the room spin even more. "You gotta keep that name reserved now," you added bitterly.

"Reserved?" Bucky asked, his brow knit together in confusion. "For who?"

You scoffed, walking forward to close the distance that was left between you and the table he sat at. A few steps in and you lost your footing, but before you could even stumble Bucky was already out of his seat. His hands were on your arms in an instant, the feeling of hot and cold both burning your skin in a familiar way. The tenderness of his touch and the yearning you felt for it after all this time was almost too much to bear; your mind was spinning. Spinning from alcohol. Spinning from heartache. Spinning from anger. Spinning, spinning, spinning.

"Let go of me!" you exclaimed angrily, shrugging yourself out of his grasp. "I don't think your little lover would want you touchin' me."

Bucky could only stand there, blinking in surprise with his hands still outstretched. "My what?" he asked, his hands slowly falling back to his sides. "My lover?" he repeated.

"Yeah, your lover - or… whatever the hell you want to call them. Sam told me, because you didn't," you told him indignantly.

"I- what? Sam told you? Sam told you what?" he asked, more confused than ever.

"That you're dating someone!" you yelled, the anguish clear in your voice.

Bucky sighed and ran his hands over his face in exasperation before resting them on his hips, his lips pursed as he collected his thoughts. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he finally asked, trying to put the pieces together in his head.

"Didn't expect me to know, did you?" you spat furiously.

"I don't- sweetheart, what the hell is going on?" he asked softly, trying his best to remain patient. You were finally talking to him again, and it's definitely not the way he imagined but he'd be damned if he was going to let you slip through his fingers again.

"No!" you said forcefully. "I'm not your sweetheart. She is. Whoever she is."

"There is no ‘she’," Bucky told you calmly, trying his hardest to make sense of what was going on.

"Okay, then he is!" you replied in defeat, finally throwing yourself down on the chair beside you.

"What? No, that's not-" he tried to answer you, but you quickly cut him off.

"Why didn’t you want to tell me?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking.

“Because… I’m not dating anyone,” he replied slowly, more of a question than a statement.

“Just stop lying!” you yelled, hands slamming onto the table. “Please, I can’t take you lying to me anymore, okay? You’ve been lying to me all year,” you added in desperation, your eyes starting to glisten with tears.

“All year?” he asked, his voice quiet and shaky as he slid into the seat across from you.

You could only nod your head, bottom lip trembling as the first tears started to fall down your cheeks. Bucky started burning from the inside out, wanting nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and kiss the tears away- but he couldn’t. So he stayed where he was, swallowing thickly as he willed himself not to start crying with you.

“I never lied to you, you know that,” he said carefully.

“You did, because this whole time you-... I really thought-... you made me think-” you couldn’t get the words out, falling silent as you tried to collect yourself.

Bucky instinctively reached his hands across the table to you before he caught himself, pulling them back and setting them on his lap. "What did I make you think?"

"That you trusted me. That we meant something to each other," you explained softly, swallowing back more tears. "I thought you loved me back," you added, your voice so quiet it would have been inaudible to anyone other than him.

"What?" Bucky breathed out, the air being stolen from his lungs with those last six words that spilled from your trembling lips.

"I know you heard me."

"Okay- now is not the time for this conversation," he sighed, running his hands over his face.

You sat in silence for a moment, looking at him with such an recognizable expression Bucky felt like he was looking at a completely different person. "Figures," you muttered before shoving your chair back and standing up.

"What are you doing?" Bucky asked, half out of his seat as he watched to make sure you were steady on your feet.

Without another word to him, you turned and carefully started to make your way out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" Bucky called from behind you, quickly on your heels. "No, you're not allowed to leave me like this again."

"You left me first!" you yelled back, placing your hand on the wall to keep your balance as you walked a little faster.

"I never left you once!" he argued, still hot on your trail.

You scoffed, shoving open the door to your room and trying to slam it in his face; the attempt was unsurprisingly futile. "Stop following me, you said you don't want to talk."

"No, I said this isn't the time for this conversation," he huffed, shoving his way into your room and closing the door behind him.

"Why? You don't want to admit what you did?" you asked, stumbling your way to sit on the bed.

"For fucks sake, I didn't even do anything!" he defended with exasperation, leaning against the door.

"Yes you did," you argued, attempting to take off your sweater.

"I'm telling you, I didn't," he told you, trying his best to not let out a laugh as he watched you struggle to lift the sweater over your head.

"You did!" you yelled, voice muffled by the fabric. "You lied, and you kept secrets, and you - god, can you fucking help me?!" you asked with a huff, interrupting your own rant.

Bucky suppressed his laugh as he stepped forward, kneeling down in front of you. "Alright, alright. Stop fuckin' squirmin'," he muttered.

You stilled, muttering a few choice words under your breath that did not go unnoticed by him. Grasping the hem of your sweater, he carefully lifted it up and over your head to reveal your disheveled, pouting face.

"There's my girl," he whispered softly, delicately brushing back your mussed hair.

"I'm not-" you started to argue, before he quickly cut you off.

"Yes. You. Are," he said firmly, enunciating each word.

"But Sam-"

"Is an idiot," he insisted, cutting you off again. "He tried to set me up with someone but I never went. When he asked me about it, I told him we were gonna go out again so he'd stop fucking bugging me about it. I lied, sweetheart. I was never dating anyone."

"You- there was no one?" you asked quietly.

"There was no one else," he told you, his thumbs brushing away stray tears you didn't even know were falling.

Before you could ask him what that meant, your room started spinning once more and your mouth felt like cotton and your stomach felt like it was making its way up your throat.

"I don't feel so good," you mumbled, staring at him with wide eyes for a moment before rushing to your bathroom, barely making it on time.

Bucky was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding back your hair as you let loose the contents of your girls' night, his hand ghosting up and down your back. He sat patiently with you, muttering comforting words between each second of you getting sick as you gasped for air and sobbed, occasionally wiping your face with tissues.

"Better?" he asked after a few minutes, his hands never leaving you.

You could only nod in response, shifting away from him to rest against the bathtub as you closed your eyes.

Bucky immediately fell into his old habits, wasting no time in taking care of you. The only thing that destroyed him more than not having you in his life lately was watching you practically wither away, unable to do a damn thing about it.

"Drink, sweet girl," he told you, caressing your cheek in an attempt to rouse you before handing you the water you had no idea he even retrieved.

You blinked up at him, taking a moment to process what was going on before taking the glass from him. As you drank he gathered up a washcloth, running it under cold water before kneeling before you once more.

"C'mere," he whispered, taking your chin in one hand to hold you in place as he gently wiped your face. Your eyes closed once more, sighing in content as the cold water eased the burning under your skin.

"I love you," you found yourself telling him. Your voice was a delicate whisper, but the words were so heavy you felt like they echoed off the tiles surrounding you anyway.

Bucky stayed quiet, but you refused to open your eyes and look at him. Looking at him would make this moment real, so as long as you kept your eyes closed, you could pretend none of this ever happened.

"Let's get you to bed," he finally said, causing your world to implode once more.

Completely defeated, you allowed him to lift you from the floor.

Not having the energy to fight him anymore, you cooperated as he helped you into some sleep clothes.

Wanting to just hide away forever, you let him tuck you under the covers, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he slid in beside you, wanting to be there in case you got sick again.

The room was engulfed by silence for so long it almost felt like it was suffocating you, but just before your whirling mind finally succumbed to the allure of sleep you heard Bucky's gentle voice speaking out to you.

"Sleep this off, angel. Because when I explain to you how in love with you I am, I want to make damn sure you can remember what I say."

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rayne-astrophile · 3 months

Text

i think i'm getting into another fandom :"D

Mashle x Reader Headcanons

When they were sick for the first time after getting into a relationship with you

Mash

Bro doesn't realise that he's sick

You have been pointing it out since morning, but he doesn't want to listen

He rarely gets sick, after all

So when he finally accepts the fact that he's actually sick, you help him get into bed

Nothing much happens, he's obedient

Until you give him medicine

He throws up after eating a pill

"T-Too bitter...."

You have to mix the medicine with the cream puff

At first, he'll be like "???" because the cream puff tastes like the medicine he threw up

But he finishes anyway, because it's the cream puff you made for him

After that, you give him another one to make up for that trick cuz you feel bad

He'll ask you to cuddle with him in his bed

He's a large teddy bear

The next day, he's already well, but you get sick because of the cuddle from last night

He'll ask Lance to help him take care of you ❤️

Lance

This man refuses to accept the fact that he's sick

"I'm not sick, I never get sick, I can't get sick because Anna needs me-"

"Anna will be upset if you don't take care of yourself."

And on the bed he goes

Nothing much to do, he can take medicine well

But he can't take it when you want to feed him porridge that you cook for him

"Stop, I'm not a child!"

"C'mon, this is the only time I can be romantic with you!"

After an argument that you barely win, you get to feed him

His cheeks are red when you reach out a spoonful of porridge, but the delightful smile on your face makes him eat anyway

It's true, both of you never have romantic moments together

He always focuses on healing Anna, and you respect that

You don't complain at all, and he's definitely grateful for that

For not leaving him because he puts his priority on someone else instead of you

Welcome to reality guys, family matters more than lover

That's why he doesn't mind it when you stay with him the whole day

This moment is the only time he spends with you, with you alone

Before, whenever he gets sick, he's always by himself

So when he has you, he's so grateful

For your love and patience for him

The next day, everything went back to normal

Both of you will act like usual, like friends do instead of lovers

Except for the fact that he always stands by your side instead of being beside Mash, Dot or Finn

It's a small change, you barely noticed it but you do anyway

And that just makes you love him more ❤️

Rayne

He knows that he's sick

The moment he wakes up, he knows there is something wrong with him and figures that he has a fever

But man doesn't care

He has a job, and he doesn't care about himself

But he has you, and you care for him

At first, you don't notice it

But when your hand accidentally brushes his, you can feel that he's burning

But he's quick to deny it

"Rayne! You're sick-"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You force him to rest, but you know how he is

You give up and ask Wahlberg to give Rayne a one-day break, and he immediately agrees

He knows that lad needs rest too

So you come to Rayne, the wide grin on your face makes him furrow his eyebrows

"I asked Wahlberg-san to give you a one-day break. So let's rest!"

He sighs

"You're truly a stubborn one, aren't you?"

"You are, too!"

But he knows, that is one of the reasons why he falls in love with you

He lets you take him back to his dorm and tuck him to bed

You tend his needs; food, medicine and check his temperature from time to time

You never leave his side, and he doesn't complain

When the class time comes, he lets you go. He thinks he's not important enough for you to skip classes, so he tells you to go to class

You did go to class anyway, because you know he won't be a brat and get off the bed until you're back

After the class session, you go back to his dorm to check on him

When you arrive, he's sleeping

He looks so cute in his bunny blanket

You try to not make a sound, but when you touch his forehead to check on his temperature, his eyes snap open, startling you

He immediately sits up despite your protest

"I made some notes for you. You can catch up with the syllabus later, but you need to rest now."

He's grateful that he chooses you to be his partner

You make him a porridge and he lets you feed him without a word

This makes you happy, because you never have such moments with him

Rayne is a busy man. He never really has time for you, but you understand

So you treasure this moment so much

After feeding him, you tuck him back to bed and put a damp towel on his forehead to ease the temperature

When you think that he's sleeping, you play with his hair while sitting beside the bed happily

Little did you know, he's awake all along

He likes it when you play with his hair. It's soothing

When the night comes, you ask his roommate to switch with you for a night

At first, Rayne says that it is unnecessary, but you are his girlfriend, you have the right to be worried

You sit on a chair beside the bed, telling him about your day

He listens of course. This is the only moment he can spend his time with you, after all

Then, when you're getting sleepy, you rest your head on your palm as your elbow rests on the bed as you talk to him

He notices that you are getting sleepy

"Come, get on the bed." He offers

You had done everything for him today

You tend his needs, go to class, and stay by his side without break

He doesn't even know if you take your meal or not

So sharing a bed with you is the least he can do

At first, you refuse because you don't want him to be uncomfortable

But when he insists, you happily agree

You would take as small space as you could on the bed as you're still worried that he might get uncomfortable

But then he grabs your hand and pulls you into his embrace, shocking you

"Rayne...?"

He rests your head on his chest as his warmth engulfs you

"Don't talk. Just sleep,"

You try to raise your head to look at him, but he pushes your head back against his chest

But you can hear his heart beating fast

"....I'm sorry I can't spend time with you." You hear him mutter. "I can't give you attention like any other boyfriend does. I can't even spare a glance at you some days. Yet you're still here for me," You can't help but feel your heart ache at the vulnerability in his voice. You take his hand from your head and hold in yours as you raise your head to look at him. "I told you I love you, didn't I?" You smile softly at him. "It doesn't matter if you don't have time for me or if you can't give attention to me. I choose to love you." He can feel his heart skip a beat as you grin. "And you can't stop me from loving you, you should know that."

He shoves your face back to his chest as you let out a muffled 'oof'

You can hear his heart beating faster, making you smile

Oh, how you love this man

You wrap your arms around him and giggle

"I guess I need to wait until you get sick again to get your affection like this,"

"Oh, shut up."

I just love this man so much

#mashle #magic and muscles #mash burnedead #lance crown #rayne ames #mashle x reader #headcanon #rayne ames x reader #lance crown x reader #mash burnedead x reader

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utterlyotterlyx · 22 days

Text

Worthy

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - After a hard day, all you need is your mate to tell you that everything is going to be okay.

Warnings - angst, self hatred, self doubt, blood, brief details of childbirth, death, fluff

For my lovely @thisiskaylin - hope this makes you feel better x

Blood.

There was blood everywhere. All over your hands, spatters on your face and neck, it clung to you like a disease.

It was meant to be worth it.

One more push, you would tell them. One more push and you get to see your beautiful baby. Just one more and it'll all be over and you can go home and raise your perfect little baby.

Just one more push.

The child wriggled in your arms, you had bundled the winged babe up in grey blanket, protecting him from the scene in front of him. A non-Illyrian woman lay before you unmoving, tears rolling down her face, fingers outstretched toward you with a vacant look in her eye. And there was blood everywhere.

Amalia had been one of your favourite patients in your career, full of life and wonder, kind and sweet and soft, she was made to be a mother. Every visit had been so positive, you had no reason to believe that she wouldn't make it. Amalia was strong and healthy, she should have made it. You had promised her it would all be alright.

But blood at pooled at her thighs, staining her cream coloured birthing gown, she had gone pale and sweaty and her lips had turned blue. The rapid rise and fall of her chest confirmed it, that she wasn't going to make it, and there was nothing your healing hands could do to stop it.

"Please. Let me see him," she had rasped to you and you sat beside her, lowering her babe to her face and letting her shaky fingers tug down at the neck of the bundle to see his face. "So beautiful."

Tears pricked your eyes, "You did so well, Amalia."

Amalia peered up at you, her icy blue eyes softening at your face, she had always called you an angel, "I did?"

Choking back tears, you ran your fingers through her lifeless blonde waves, a comforting gesture, to let her know she wasn't alone, "So well," you confirmed, "You have to name him."

"A name," her voice was fleeting, drifting away into the wind, carried by the coaxing breeze floating through the slightly ajar window, "Amias. Eternal love."

"Amias," you turned you gaze to the bubbling boy in your arms and smiled, brushing your fingers against his full cheeks, "It's perfect, Amalia. It's-" but you couldn't finish your sentence, not when you turned back to her and saw nothing, no rise and fall of her chest, just vacant tearful eyes and pale sweaty skin.

It was always a danger you had faced, losing a mother to the complications that came with bearing an Illyrian child, a thing you knew all too well from birthing Nyx. It was your specialised field of mastery, the birthing of Illyrian babes, you had saved many that would not have stood a chance without you. You were a miracle to them, even the males at Windhaven had come to treat you with kindness, it wasn't often that they were thought of, and you made them feel cared for.

The room was solemn. The team of midwives that accompanied you to all of the births you attended worked slowly and respectfully, draping the thin cloth of her bed sheet over her face after washing her skin softly with lavender soaped sponges all whilst you rocked and cooed the innocent motherless child into slumber. Handing the small thing over to one of your midwives, you sniffled, you went to wipe your face with your sleeve but froze when you saw the blood trailing up your arms and let out a small sob in response.

There was only one thing, one person, that would be able to fix you.

Windhaven was a place that Azriel hated you going to.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were the most extraordinary thing on the planet, but sometimes he wished that you had chosen a different specialty in your healing career. One that didn't make you feel so small, one that made you happy.

He knew something had gone wrong when he had sent a questioning love down the bond for it only to collide with a rock solid wall of iron clad fury. The bond only went silent when something was wrong. Every patient of yours was a friend, it was hard for people not to adore you, so it hurt you more when they left the world.

Footsteps scuffed up the pavement outside of your shared home and Azriel heard you sigh deeply before the handle turned and you stepped in.

The room was as it always was. Books, some medical and some historical, splayed across the coffee table, a fire dancing at the forefront of the room cascading the space in a golden glow, and two mugs of tea, one of which had long since had gone cold, on the side tables by your assigned spaces on the deep cobalt love seat.

Azriel scanned you for but a second before throwing his body over the edge of the seat and rushing to you. There was blood coating you, from your skirt up to your hair, your eyes were shocked and vacant, your lips were chapped and your cheeks were red and puffy. You had been crying.

Being no stranger to blood, Azriel took your hands in his and lifted them to his chest so that you could feel his heartbeat, so that you could centre yourself and bring your consciousness back to the land of the living. Then your gaze turned to him and your chest dropped, and Azriel knew what had happened, "Amalia?"

Shaking your head, you choked, "She didn't make it," tears pooled in your eyes and your face crumpled, "I promised her that she'd make it. There was no reason why she shouldn't have. I've been doing so well with the prenatal visits and the vitamins and the tonics, and she just," a sob broke through, "She just died."

Azriel ran his hands down the side of your face and continued to listen to your words, "What kind of healer am I if I can't save a woman, my friend, from the risks of childbirth? The risks I have dedicated my career to avoid? I've left a child without a mother, Az," you peered up at him, tears streaking down your face, collecting blood on their descent, "I'm a monster."

Unknowingly, you opened your side of the bond, and Azriel was flooded with your grief and anguish, your self loathing and doubt, and your all-consuming worthlessness, "Look at me, y/n. Look at me," he pulled your focus and smiled softly at you.

Azriel adored everything about you, but more than anything, he adored your kind soul and caring heart. You were the most magnificent thing he had ever come across.

The bond had snapped for him when he had been badly injured and Rhys had stormed into your little apartment above the pharmacy with Azriel strung over his shoulder. Despite your messy hair and askew nightgown, you worked endlessly to bring Azriel back from the brink, he truly believed he had entered heaven that day and that you were the one to guide him to the light.

He didn't realise that heaven could exist on earth until he met you.

It had taken months for you to release the bond between you, you were a busy thing, always researching and working on ways to save people from some of the most unavoidable events of life. One being childbirth. But during one certain sunset, when the sun was low and the sky was painted in pink and gold, did you feel that golden thread snap into place. Since then, you had been inseparable. He was your rock, the only one who could smash your soul into pieces and the only one who could put you back together, and you were his sunshine and rain, the only one who could cause him any real pain, but the only one who could clear his darkness and bring him into the light.

"None of the women you have saved would have stood a chance without you," blood covered your face like dirt, dusting but prominent, and your eyes were brimming with exhaustion, "I know it's hard, and that you feel worthless and like you're failing. But none of the women in this court could have survived without you, you are an angel, you have saved so many mothers and children that our study is bursting with gifts and flowers," you strained a smile, "I know that Amalia was your friend, I'm so sorry that you lost her, I know how much you wanted her to live."

"As much as we want to, we can't save everyone, y/n. All we can do is seek to save the next, to give another person a chance of a full beautiful life just like ours."

The obsession of non-Illyrian mothers had grown since you had accepted the bond with Azriel, you had never directly voiced why, but he knew you were trying to find a way for yourself to survive if the time ever came when you would carry his child. It was heart breaking to see it, to see you lose a patient and feel your own soul hang in the balance. It was heart breaking to know that you saw yourself as Amalia, broken and bloody and alone.

It had always been something you had wanted with him, a child of your own, with little black wings and shadows curling around him just like Az's. But you also wanted to live to see him grow. You weren't an Illyrian, which meant that you too were at risk of facing the same fate as Amalia's.

The fear in your eyes broke him.

"You are so worthy, so talented and determined that you put all of us to shame. You are the light of the Night Court, I'm just lucky that I get to bask in it daily. No wonder everyone is jealous that I get to call you my mate," a soft grin formed on his lips at your whispering giggle and he took your face in his hands, allowing his shadows to curl around your forearms and sooth the raging sadness within you, "I love you, y/n. I'm in awe of you every day. It's not easy to do what you do, to fall in love with the idea of saving people and breaking when the Mother decides to take one away. But it doesn't make you any less worthy or loved. You were put on this earth for a reason, to save people, and you will continue to do that because you are y/n, and you are my mate, and you wouldn't be you if you didn't. You save me everyday and you don't even know it."

The room had grown lighter, and the all-consuming anguish that had flowed down the bond had shifted, "Thank you," your eyes flickered across his face and your shoulders dropped.

Azriel tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and sighed, taking you in his arms and holding you tightly against his chest, "Let's get you in a bath, hm?" he pulled away and looked down on you, tilting his head and drinking in your radiant beauty despite the sadness and stains on your skin, "Then I'm going to brush your hair and hold you and kiss you until you fall asleep, and then tomorrow, you save another life."

Nodding, you exhaled shakily, pulling him back to you as he went to lead you to the bathroom upstairs, no doubt to the already full tub that was big enough for both of you, he gazed at you in question, with a furrowed brow and fingers interlinked with your own, "I love you, you know that, don't you?"

The desperation in his voice made him want to scoop you up in his arms and show you exactly how much he adored you, but you were hurting, and you needed him in a wholly different way, "I know. I love you too. So much. Let's go and soak okay? I'll tell you who Nyx said was his favourite..."

Light beamed in your eyes and you wilfully allowed your body to be pulled by Azriel's grip, "If it's Cassian, I will riot."

The rest of the evening was spent in his arms, his fingers massaging your scalp and shoulders, wrapping around you and his lips pressing into the curve of your shoulder. Azriel brushed your hair, his touch so gentle and his shadows peppering their love for you across your face. And as you drifted into slumber, the symphony of your dreams were set by Azriel's voice, a low and sultry sound, reading to you, his fingers running through your hair and lips pressing into your hair line.

Not once did he take his hands off of you. Not once did he stop muttering how loved you were. And you knew that as long as he was by your side, you were invincible.

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bitterchocoo · 1 month

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A Blessing or A Curse?

Jing Yuan | M. Reader as Baizhu [Genshin Impact]

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"The doctor will see you now~"

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For centuries, immortality has been seen as a curse by the Xianzhou natives. An abomination.

How could they not? When they saw it with their own eyes, what immortality had brought to those who wished for it. How it changed them. Twist their minds until they're merely a shadow of their former self. What had become of those who got Mara-struck.

But...

Amongst those who look down on immortality with disdain. There's one who sees immortality as a blessing rather than a curse.

Hey, have you heard? There's a Doctor that could cure any illness! It's like a miracle! He works in a Pharmacy in the Alchemy Commission called, Bubu Pharmacy. The Doctor's name is—

"Doctor [Name]?"

"This new prescription, though not as fast-acting. Will allow gradual recovery and build-up of strength making it well suited to someone who's been suffering from a long illness. The needed ingredients can also be found around the Exalting Sanctum."

"Thank you, Doctor!"

The man thanked the doctor for the new prescription with a smile on hie face. The previous prescription used ingredients are hard to get in the district and now with the new prescription, finding the ingredients for the medicine would be a lot more easier.

He then left the pharmacy with the prescription in hand, leaving the doctor alone with his...

Snake.

"You actually found replacements for those ingredients." She says as she watched the man leave. "Of course, what kind of Doctor would I be if I couldn't?" He replied softly, his eyes scanning the documents in his hand.

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One day, Doctor [Name] have an unexpected visit.

"Ah, General! To what do I owe the honor of your visit? Are you perhaps injured?" The doctor greeted him with a faint smile on his face. Jing Yuan laugh at [Name]'s words. "No, Doctor. I'm perfectly healthy."

"That's good to hear." "He better be, or else our work would have been for nothing!!"

"Good to see you too Changsheng." The General chuckles. The snake huffs as she rested her body around [Name]'s shoulders. The two old friends sat at a nearby table, chatting away and catching up with one another.

For as long as he could remember, [Name] had always been a kind soul, ready to help at any given time despite being a short-life species. That didn't concern him at all as he studies medicine and the art of healing.

The day [Name] retuned with a white snake around his shoulder was the day that changed everything. For the Luofu and for his friends. Almost like a miracle, the people began to heal ad recover in a rapid pace. Thanks to the Doctor's treatment. They've began to wonder as to how that could be? A short-life species? Having an ability akin to a Vidyadhara? Impossible! And yet..

As [Name] continues to heal and treat his patients... the sicker he became..

It wasn't that it's noticeable, no.. far from it..

He appears as healthy as ever, although a few coughs and wheeze here and there but as an old friend of his, Jing Yuan can't help but show concern for the Doctor.

"Life, death... and the world around us all follow a set of laws... Hehe, but if you never test the limits, how can anyone know where the boundaries of these laws are?"

He should have known..

He should have known that.. his friend was..

..Researching on something forbidden..

How could this be...?

A kind and gentle man.. wanting nothing but to help and treat others.. began searching for the thing his motherland sought to destroy..? And he's been doing this from the starts..?

Why..? Why must he..

He felt betrayed. Betrayed by an old friend.

Immortality is a curse! Can't the Doctor see that! All of those soldiers, all of those people that were lost from it! Is he blind!! Why!? Why must he search for such abomination!!

And yet.. and yet...

His reason.. the Doctor's reason... [Name]'s reason...

..It's still pure..

He wanted to help.. to treat and heal others..

Changsheng.. her ability to heal is simply out of this world.. but the price.. the price that needs to be paid to do such an act.. isn't that just prove how terrible the power of Abundance is? And yet..

[Name] saw this as a blessing.

It's a gift.

A gift he'll accept with open arms.

Once he received immortality.. he could continue on to help others and.. he won't have to pass down the contract to anyone ever again..

His objective is simple...

To prevent suffering.

But.. is immortality truly the only way? To him, yes. As it would prevent any more people from dying young thanks to the contract. But to someone like Jing Yuan? The General of the Luofu? The man who had seen what immortality had done to others?

Is Immortality a blessing..? Or.. a curse..?

He doesn't know anymore.

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #hsr #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x male reader #baizhu #genshin baizhu #genshin impact #genshin #x reader

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inconspicious-random-thoughts · 3 months

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Broken staff

It more than likely been mentioned elsewhere but I want to talk about Alastor staff.

Vivienne mention the staff is part of his essence. Now it is split into two along with a deep gash from holy power across Alastor torso. He made sure to salvage the broken pieces before shadowing away.

I REALLY hope they do more angsty shit next season with this. Alastor power is severely weaken until he recuperates. That Alastor is covering this vulnerability from the others. Notice in that group hug, his obvious tattered clothes and gash is hidden and he back to his 'normal self' facade after his chilling and rattled part of the song. No one knows how Alastor battle went....except for the Vees. Dun Dun DUUUUUN.

I would love to watch Alastor trying to power play, manipulate and figure out his freedom. All the while hiding his weaken state. It frustrates Alastor greatly as healing seem agonizing slow. Because holy wounds heal slower or some BS like that. The hotel constantly rely on his powers that he would still provide and he continue to use his reserves to cover up his secret.

Husker was the first to notice something up. Be as observant and ability to read people, and just know Alastor. He catches the momently grimace is Alastor moved his torso wrong or an involuntary flinch, clutching his chest in pain. But Alastor recovers these moments quickly. It's in a blink of an eye type movements, that only Husker catches. It's all so obvious to Husker. The extra strain smile when Alastor performs magic. How exhausted from the exertion afterwards. Husker keeps a wary eye on him but doesn't say anything. We know what happen last time he brought up a touchy subject before.

Charlie was next to notice but it took a while. It took some obvious clues. Something like Alastor faceplants to the ground unconscious from over exhaustion after a more complicated spell. Or maybe some more dramatic...

The Vee's. They know Alastor took heavy hits. They will use that to their advantage. They possibly make a move against him and he unable to defend properly. Vox would be mocking loudly what he witness, revealing Alastor secret to the hotel. Naturally, Charlie would be hurt with a "Why didn't you tell us?" after a gasp.

I really hope they do something with it. It doesn't have to be a full season arc, they can probably even manage it in one episode as a focus with subtle clues from a few episode before it.

I be so annoyed Alastor bounce back like his fight with Adam never happened. I am a sucker of Alastor barely keeping it together and nearly losing his shit. HE. IS. BARELY.KEEPING.IT.TOGETHER. But he still keeping together...we haven't see him break yet. Can you imagine the weight of stress finally breaking him?

His staff (which is part of him) is splint in two. Just like how is internal conflicting dilemma of being powerful sociopath demon with a plan vs growing affections of the residence of hotel that complicates his plans.

All of his careful planning will go to shit, he will lose all control-He going to absolutely alone when he finally breaks down from losing control of everything and the audience will see him drop that smile.

He mention to Charlie that a smile is a way to keep control and that's when we see him drop his. As much he careful with control he doesn't even control his own soul.

Edit:

Omg, So when I originally wrote this, I knew staff was incorrect word I want to use but at the time I kept drawing a blank what to call it.

It's a cane

A cane is something be used to support themselves with, a crutch. And Alastors just splint in half. The thing that's also part of his essence and probably help channel/control his powers.

The angsty poetry is fucken delicious

~I am nearly foaming from the mouth from the thought!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel spoilers

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florencemtrash · 2 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fourteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Secrets are revealed, relationships are tested, and the arrival of new guests at the River House make things all the more complicated. Oh and some canon typical violence.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

There was something cold and damp against your forehead, the bitter taste of medicine lingered on your tongue, dry and acrid, and a faint pulsing near the base of your skull.

“She’s waking up.” Gwyn’s voice came to your ears through fifteen feet of water. “You can hold her hand, if you’d like. She can handle it now.”

A hand slid into yours, palms calloused from hundreds of years spent swinging a sword. Warm and heavy. Golden light pricked behind your eyes like sunlight through thin curtains and you woke up to the sun smiling down on you, red-eyed and weary.

“Helion?” His healing touch traveled over you, whisking away any remaining tenderness in your stomach. You whimpered when he wove his fingers through your hair, gently peeling apart any tangles. It felt nice to be touched by him. Safe.

“I’m here.”

“It hurts,” you murmured, even though you couldn’t identify the pain very well. It seemed to exist both within you and outside of you, pressing down on your chest until even breathing felt unnatural. Everything just… hurt. Your head, your heart, your throat. Like you’d swallowed a mouthful of hot ash. “I’m so… I’m so tired.”

Again Helion combed your hair back with his fingers and you felt the sore spot on the back of your head prickle when he touched it. The blood had been cleaned, the wound closed, but you could still feel it there like a stamp sinking into your skin. The same way you could feel the stretch of scar tissue over your stomach. A thick, pale line a few inches below your sternum.

“You’re ok, my dear. Rest. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“Thanks Dad,” you whispered, but you were already slipping away. You wouldn’t remember what you called him when you woke up again.

Helion gritted his teeth and brushed away the stray tears that dripped down your cheeks, then his own.

“I won’t let anything hurt you,” he said to the empty air.

The next time you awoke was not so pleasant. There was no caressing hand down your face. No slow murmurs from your father. No warm light blinking in the darkness.

There was the banging of doors. Cassian’s alarmed shouts mixing with Rhysand and Mor’s, and Feyre’s commands for Nyx to take Velaria upstairs and lock the door behind them.

“Don’t come down until I get you, ok sweetie?” The boy’s footsteps were light and quick up the stairs as he calmed a startled Velaria with gentle coos.

“Gwyn?” You reached across the bed for the priestess’s hand. Her robes looked like they were glowing to your sleep-dazed eyes.

Her teal eyes were hard. The grip on her knife tight.

“Gwyn, what’s happening?”

“Shhhh. Go back to sleep.”

Helion roared and the River House shook down to its foundations. The silky covers stuck to your weak arms, slippery and cool as you gripped Gwyn’s arm and forced yourself to stand. Your knees immediately buckled and Gwyn’s awaiting arms caught you in a sprawl of heavy limbs.

The House trembled once more. The wooden banisters creaked. The faelights that sat on swooping, wrought iron curls blinked on and off, signaling the House’s alarm as the floor slipped and slid beneath your feet. Help me! The House seemed to shout.

“Gwyn.”

“Hold onto me.”

You leaned heavily against the priestess’s side, her arm wrapped around your waist, and together you stumbled out the door and into the hallway.

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the lamplight just as Cassian flew across the room, crashing into the fireplace mantle in a burst of color that had you turning pale. The glass figurines and picture frames cracked and shattered in a rain of glass. But Cass only grumbled, “This is what I get for helping,” before bouncing onto his feet and charging back into the foyer where Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor stood. Rhysand kept his arm out in front of the two sisters and grabbed Mor’s arm before she could step further.

“Let them go.” Rhys said, his voice low and deadly. He knew something they didn’t. “Helion has a right to this.”

“It wasn’t Azriel’s fault,” Mor seethed.

“Doesn’t matter. I’d do the same if anyone hurt Velaria.”

“What the hell does that—”

Helion slammed Azriel’s bloody and bruised body against the wall with a snarl. The shattered vases in the hallway and the blood dripping from Azriel's broken nose clear evidence that you'd stumbled upon this fight a few minutes late.

Helion held a fistful of black leather in one hand and a gleaming sword of pure light angled up just beneath Azriel’s sternum in the other. His skin burned so brightly even Azriel’s shadows had slunk away to seek shelter in the few remaining dark corners of the House.

“You bastard,” Helion spit out the words like venom.

Azriel hung limp and exhausted, wings brushing against the floor. The bruises beneath his eyes and the cut of his cheeks spoke of days spent without sleep. Days spent prowling Velaris for Andrian. Days spent waiting outside your door for you to wake up.

“You think I don’t see what game you’re playing? This pathetic pattern of yours?” Helion’s eyes flashed a dangerous yellow.

“Helion!” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be. “Let him go!”

“It’s not a game,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. “It’s never been a game. Not with her.” “Don’t. Lie. To. Me,” Helion snarled. He pulled Azriel off the wall only to slam him back into it. Cracks splintered out like spiderwebs. Dust floated down and landed in Azriel’s hair like snow. “It wasn’t so long ago that you were convinced enough about a mating bond with Elain to invoke a fucking Blood Duel with Lucien Vanserra. Now you’re chasing after Y/n’s skirts like a dog? Looking at her with lovesick eyes as if being near you won’t bring anything but death on her head?”

You went still.

He’d… he’d challenged Elain’s mate to a Blood Duel?

He’d believed they were mates?

All at once it made sense why Elain and Lucien had disappeared to the Mortal Lands, chased away by a violence that should have ended with either Lucien or Azriel ritualistically buried in the ground. Nothing but a pint of blood and a name to remember them by. All at once it made sense why it had been so long since their family had lived under one roof.

Your words shriveled up in your throat and died there.

Azriel stiffened, eyes flashing dangerously.

Helion clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You’re not the only one who hears whispers, Shadowsinger,” he hissed. “First it was Mor you pined after for five-hundred years, then Elain, then the priestess. One right after the other like a prize just out of reach.”

Gwyn tensed beside you and your heart tightened in your chest like untempered glass ready to shatter.

“Gwyn?” You whispered.

You had no right to Azriel, no right to know about his past exploits with females, but still it felt like something you should have been told after long nights spent in the priestess’s presence. Months of living under their roof, eating their food, and falling in love without a whisper of warning. The things they must have whispered about when you weren’t in the room.

Her silence was all you needed to hear. Greasy and rotten.

Azriel’s hands shook the more Helion spoke.

“You like your females broken and vulnerable. You like it when they need you. When you get to swoop in feeling like some grand hero. So you felt you had the right to go after my daughter! And then you were too weak to protect her when the time came? You dared to lay a hand on her are you fucking kidding me?!”

The world froze at those two words. The Inner Circle was shocked into complete silence.

You swayed dangerously as the floor tilted beneath your bare feet.

Is that what they thought of you? Is that what Azriel thought of you? Broken. Weak. Pathetic. Someone who couldn’t handle their own. Someone who had needed saving. An easy target to charm and dazzle. A Librarian who’d been left alone for so long she’d throw herself at the first handsome male who smiled in her direction.

Azriel stiffened.

You were Helion’s daughter. And somehow that made everything worse, because Azriel knew how lonely you’d been as a child and how much losing your mother had nearly destroyed you. You’d shoved yourself into the Alcove where everything was familiar and safe, and all this time Helion had just stood by and done the bare minimum.

Azriel had been holding back his rage — his pain — but he felt it erupt with new passion. Lingering jealousy, that acid that had been building up every time you mentioned Helion or touched the necklace he’d gifted you, added fuel to the fire. Shadows burst out from his hands and ate away at Helion’s magic like a plague.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel growled and spit blood onto the floor by Helion's feet, “You weren’t even here. She could have died on those streets.” His voice was hoarse and on the verge of breaking, “And you wouldn’t have been there.”

And he might not have been there either.

Rhys had held him back, refusing to let go even as Azriel had tried to crawl to you on broken bones. Even as Azriel had screamed for you.

Helion's face twisted into something ugly and foreign to you, because deep down he knew the true reason he was so enraged at the Shadowsinger. It was like looking in a mirror. They’d failed you in similar ways.

“Helion… Helion no!” But your father didn’t listen.

His power shot out in a blaze of light and heat and slammed into Azriel’s chest. His shadows were barely able to soften the blast. Azriel saw you then, shock and horror seeping down the bond along with something that felt a lot like heartbreak. You watched wide-eyed and slack jawed as the wall bowed out and then snapped in two. Azriel was thrown onto the front lawn, a gaping tear left in the House like a knife wound.

Helion stepped outside and stalked up to Azriel like a lion out for blood. There was murder and hatred in his eyes.

Everyone was shouting again as he raised his sword.

You felt a flare of something bright and hot in your chest, like a shot of whiskey or the first bleeding rise of the sun. You stood up on your own, eyes burning with a glassy, gold sheen that had Gwyn stepping away from you with a gasp. You were glowing, pure and clear and strong.

You’d only felt like this twice before. First, when you’d grabbed hold of Henna and stopped hiding who you really were, and then once more at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf mere minutes before Azriel had turned the book to ash. Both moments where your power demanded to be felt. Moments when your emotions turned to magic.

“Helion.” Your voice echoed throughout the room and into the wide open space beyond, eerie and calm. So loud. So quiet. Like an aching whisper in pitch black darkness. “Let. Him. Go.”

Helion blinked in surprise with his arms still raised over his head. Inch by inch that blade of bright light faded away with the dying light of a sunset. His eyes cooled and that magic rage left his body. He staggered away from where Azriel lay on the ground.

Your hands were trembling, but you forced them to be calm as Azriel got back on his feet, hazel eyes boring into yours. He drank in the sight of you. Your wrapped forearm. The white bandages around your middle peering through your thin nightgown. Your clean hair.

The smell of blood was but a distant nightmare, even if he swore he could still feel it on his ruined hands. Slippery and dark.

You turned to leave.

“Y/n, wait!” Azriel shoved a stunned Helion out of his way, racing back into the House in a blur of darkness. “Y/n,” he begged and reached out his hand, “Please let me explain.”

You froze. The weight of his hand wrapping around your wrist and the rough feel of his scars against your fluttering pulse pinned you to the floor. You felt uncentered — off kilter — and without meaning to, you were thrust into his mind.

You felt the way he’d pined after Mor for centuries. Always close by. Waiting. Watching for the moment she might actually look at him and realize what he was willing to become for her. Someone to love and kiss and take to bed. Someone who’d never have cast her off into that wood. Someone who would do whatever she asked until she was smiling and whole again.

You felt the way he looked at Gwyn, like she could be the answer to all his questions. Like she could be the one to hone all his sharp edges with her delicate smile and her creamy skin and dewdrop eyes. Because if she could love him, it might actually mean something. It would mean he was capable of fixing, not just destroying.

You… you knew the ways he’d imagined Elain. Three sisters for three brothers. Mates. Fate. Love. How he’d imagined touching her. How he had touched her. The thrill of hiding away in dark corners and the soft skin of her fragile neck beneath his lips. The arch of her back. Wood grain beneath his fingers as he pressed her up against a wall and kissed her. How he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else ever again.

You felt the acidic contents of your stomach surge and wrenched your hand out of his grasp.

Azriel faltered, eyes wide and staring. Something inside of him fractured and broke. You hadn’t pulled away from him like that since Summer Solstice back when you were strangers and meant nothing to one another. But even then you hadn’t looked at him with this much feeling. This much betrayal.

His arm was still outstretched and hanging in the empty air.

Tears dotted your eyes, but you forbid them from falling. Not in front of him. Never in front of him.

“I am not broken.”

You went back to your room and slammed the door shut.

“I thought he liked me,” you murmured pathetically, leaning against Helion’s side. He’d slid into your room quietly and approached you like a wounded animal ready to scatter.

Your father hesitated, fingers caught in hair that reminded him so painfully of Leda — of your mother. Things had not ended well between them, but he could think of her with nothing less than fondness and gratitude. After all, Leda had given birth to you. Brilliant, wonderful, beautiful you.

He listened to the House and the way it seemed to be holding its breath. The doors shut a little tighter. The curtains hugged the windows. And across the hall shadows lingered by the door of Azriel’s room, reaching out towards yours but never crossing the threshold. They were held back by their master’s tight leash.

“I know this might come as a surprise after what I did, but I… He did like you. He does like you. They all do. How could they not?”

You shook your head slowly. “But not in the way I want him to. Not in the way I lo—” You shut your mouth and sighed bitterly. Your cheeks flushed with warmth and before you knew it you were crying again, leaking tears onto Helion’s bare shoulder and feeling wretched.

Azriel curled in on himself, collapsed on the floor like a broken doll with knees pulled up to his chest as he ignored the pulling of his shadows.

She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. They repeated over and over again, yanking on his leathers and strands of ebony black hair. Helion had left for one of the guest bedrooms upstairs after you cried yourself to sleep. Now was Azriel’s chance to beg for your forgiveness. To explain himself. To hope.

She needs you.

Azriel shrugged them off, scattering their disembodied voices with a wave of his gloved hand. He was back to wearing them.

I am the last thing she needs.

“Lucien’s found one of Bethsevah’s descendants.”

Gwyn stood by the doorway, pale skin and blue robes outlined by the mountain’s red walls. The priestess kept her hands behind her back, wringing them in a nervous twist of bitten fingernails, and waited for you to finally look up from your notes.

You didn’t like spending time at the House. You hated the way everyone’s attention shifted to you whenever you entered a room; the look of tight, empathetic smiles and knowing glances filling their eyes. It wasn’t that they were trying to be unkind, but you knew they whispered about the power you’d displayed. About your status as Helion’s bastard daughter. About the absolute state that Azriel was in.

This morning, when you’d left your room for Cagniv Library, Azriel had been waiting, filling his bedroom door frame with a hauntingly tortured look in his eyes.

“Y/n, please—”

You’d left without a second glance in his direction, footsteps hurried and head bowed down. His shadows had followed you to the front steps of the house, but no further and you couldn’t help but feel a weight in your chest thinking about how Azriel had looked. He’d started wearing the gloves again.

Bethsevah’s name rang through the air like a jolt of electricity. After thousands of years, her name still held a strength that demanded to be felt. The book was gone. Whatever magic Azriel had been forced to perform had swept it away to the Continent, and Rhys and Feyre had been wracked with worry and preparations ever since. Favors called in. Threats made. Weapons forged. Bodies armed. At any point they might be called away to the Continent, or forced to reckon with a Death God at their door.

You’d helped in your own way by digging through your notes on mating bonds and the manuscript that was becoming more useful each day.

Thanatos and the Bone Carver, one and the same, and mated to Bethsevah Mordeigh. Magic that wasn’t the same, but perfectly complementary. Magic that worked as a lock and a key.

You were made to ruin me.

Your initial theory, the one you’d shared with Azriel in that cramped apartment at the Alcove, had turned out to be true. Bethsevah, and Bethsevah alone as Thanatos’s mate, had possessed the ability to split him from his power and lock him away, and because his magic was cut from the same kind as his siblings, Beth had been able to do the same with Stryga and Koschei. Her blood, her genetic connection to that magic, would be the only thing capable of releasing the power in the lake.

All magic could trace itself back to a biological underpinning.

You were made to ruin me.

The memory was burned behind your sleepless eyes and haunted your dreams, but sometimes when you stopped concentrating so hard on the harsh angles that made up the Bone Carver’s face, you caught him transforming. Black eyes turned to brandy. His reed thin body filled out and grew strong. Wings sprouted from his back. His pale skin turned tan and scarred.

You were made to ruin me, Y/n. Azriel would say, and you’d pretend that the look of utter love and adoration in his eyes was real.

“When will they be arriving?”

Gwyn sighed in relief. You’d been so quiet the last few days. “Tomorrow.”

Mor bit her cherry red lips, glancing at Rhys and Feyre with worry in her eyes as they all stood in a row ready to greet their guests. Rhys was schooling his features into one of careful neutrality, but Mor had known him for centuries. She’d seen him through his awkward teenage years when his skin wasn’t so perfect and his body grew like a weed in Spring. Back when his temper wasn’t so honed and his ego undeserved. She knew when he was agitated. The squaring of his shoulders. The set of his eyes. The faintest twitch of his left ear.

What a fucking mess this all was. If he thought about it too hard it gave him a raging headache.

Azriel and Y/n were mates, although Y/n didn’t know and no one knew how to tell her, especially after Azriel had stabbed her through the chest under Andrian’s influence. Helion had nearly killed Az. Azriel had nearly killed Lucien. And if anyone ever told Lucien about Y/n being his half-sister, he was sure Lucien would try and kill Azriel too… again. And— oh FUCK. Helion didn’t know Lucien was his son. Y/n didn’t Lucien was her half-brother. Fuck fuck FUCK. Cauldron boil me.

Rhysand rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.

Azriel stood motionless, nothing but the minor sway of his wings and the masked look of anguish in his eyes to hint that he was still reeling from that day in the market square. He couldn’t stop glancing over at where you stood between Mor and Cassian, every inch of your skin covered and a forcefully blank look on your face.

Truth Teller was no longer strapped to his thigh. His shadows had returned, but with hesitance, and Rhys couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Azriel eat something. Every family meal that you didn’t attend, Azriel would just stare at your empty seat and flinch at the sound of knives dragging through meat.

Feyre winced at the onslaught of Rhysand’s thoughts. Do we even want to attempt to fix any of that right now?

Feyre darling, where would we even begin?

At least Helion’s moved to the House of Wind. Feyre offered it as a small consolation. Took me a while to convince him of that.

Rhys gritted his teeth. And he will stay on that fucking mountain.

Lucien had gone his entire life not knowing about Helion precisely because when he stood next to his brothers he blended in. There was just enough similarity there in the silhouette of their faces and their overwhelmingly bright red hair, that no one had ever batted an eye at the seventh son of Autumn. But put Lucien and Helion side by side and a keen eye would make out the same strong slope of their noses, the same dimples on their cheeks when they smiled, and the way their brow bones hung over deep set eyes.

You possessed such an eye — an eye for details and specifics. So when Lucien Vanserra walked through the front doors with the setting sun splashing his frame with fire and light, Elain glowing and beautiful beside him, you knew immediately who he was.

Fuuuuccccckkkkkk. Cassian groaned. Nesta, she knows.

Stop it. There’s no way she figured it out that quickly. Nesta said. Then she actually looked at you. Your mouth was open in a round “o” and your face had gone pale. Oh for fuck’s sake. Really?

Your gaze was locked on Lucien as he walked up to Rhysand and shook his hand.

“Lucien, welcome back to the Night Court. It’s been too long.”

His golden eye whirred, moving up and down the line and lingering first on Azriel. His full lips flattened, freckled nose twitching with thinly veiled distaste. “Not long enough.” But his many years spent as emissary wiped the emotion from his face quickly and he moved on, greeting everyone with a detached kindness.

“Luc.” The High Lady grinned, finally tugging a genuine smile from Lucien Vanserra’s lips.

“Hey Feyre.”

She wrapped him in her arms, closing her eyes and giving him a hearty squeeze.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“You too.”

There was a somber familiarity there, and you got the sense that Feyre was the only one Lucien truly felt connected to. Whatever history he had with the other members of the Inner Circle was tolerable at best.

You finally caught his eye — the one strange face he’d never seen before. He easily towered above you, built with Helion’s strong legs and resplendent in a deep green riding cloak and cream-colored trousers that accentuated the tinge of color in his skin and his mismatched eyes.

He tipped his head to the side, his long braid falling over his shoulder, and smiled softly. “You must be the Librarian that got roped into all of this madness.” Yes. Because that’s all you were to him — some unnamed female from the Day Court. An unfortunate victim of circumstance. “Y/n Halwynn.”

You blinked, surprised to hear him speak your name so casually when you were reeling over the fact that standing in front of you was another one of Helion’s children. Another bastard that perhaps should never have been. Your half-brother.

“The one and the same.”

Lucien evaluated the shrewd set of your eyes and the fit of your clothes over straightened shoulders and found that, at first glance, he quite liked you. You were of the bookish variety — that much was evident in the small novels dragging down your pockets and the smudged inkstains on your fingertips — but you held yourself in front of him well. You looked kind, if not skittish.

“Lucien Vanserra.” He held out his hand and you regarded it with hesitance before accepting it.

“I know the name.”

“It is a rather infamous last name.”

“Bit of an infamous first name too.”

Lucien smiled a little wider. Yes. He quite liked you.

Elain hugged her sisters in turn, breathing in their familiar scent and gripping them tightly. Her time in the Human Lands had served her well. Gone were the days of frail bones and heavy eyes always looking out sunny windows. Her skin was flush with color, her hands strong and calloused, and her knees pleasantly bruised after months spent laboring in the fields outside Vassa and Jurian’s manor. She smelled like soil and flowers. She was as lovely as everyone had always described her. The second Archeron sister who’d been born with an unnatural beauty even before turning fae.

Your eyes dropped to the floor so you wouldn’t have to see what Azriel did when she greeted him. But it didn’t matter. They avoided one another carefully, and Azriel kept looking at you, begging you to lift up your eyes so he could offer you a smile.

A word.

A glance.

Anything.

Bethsevah’s descendant appeared next, willful and stunning in her own way as she waited by the door. Her frizzy grey hair was held away from her face with a strap of leather, stormcloud eyes staring out unflinchingly from a time-worn face. Everything about her was grey from her hair to her clothes and the iron jewelry that hung from her neck and wrists. Cassian sometimes forgot how humans wore their age so openly, and how this woman in particular seemed to brandish it like a weapon.

“Ione Morgana.” Her voice was deep and hardy. Her eyes narrowed at everyone now that the familiar introductions had finished. “That’s my name and it’s the name my family has carried as long as we can remember. Although the redhead seems to believe otherwise. I am old, as you creatures can very well see, and I am tired. My parents are long gone. My sons dead. My sisters dead too. Now,” she banged her walking stick on the ground, although she hadn’t used it when walking up the steps, “Which one of you will see me to my room?” Her words came out more as a command than a question.

Rhys tipped his head to the side, his surprise evident on his face. “You’re a very bold woman. Do you not comprehend who you’re standing in front of? My wife in particular?”

“Boldness comes with age.” She stuck her nose in the air like a wolf sniffing for a bunny, “Something you’d do well to learn.”

An amused smile grew on Rhysand’s face. “I’m over five hundred years old.”

“You certainly don’t act like it, standing all crooked like a tryhard.”

Cassian coughed into his fist and Mor snickered.

“I could kill you.”

Rhys!

Relax, my love, I’m just curious how she will react.

The woman — Ione — hardly reacted at all. In fact, she almost smiled. “Time can kill me. Sickness can kill me. At this point a stiff wind could knock me down and break my back. You’re not special.” She whacked her walking stick again, harder this time. “Now. My room?”

Nesta raised and then dipped her head in silent acknowledgement and together they disappeared into the east wing of the house looking like two grey chess pieces moving over the tiles.

“Wonderful isn’t she?” Elain commented with a fond look in her eyes. She was Ione’s favorite by far.

Jurian came in last, sweat beading his brow as he dragged a huge steel cage up the steps, and Lucien and Elain’s faces turned solemn. Vassa flitted inside her prison — a cage within a cage so that she couldn’t snap at Jurian’s hands when he got too close. His eyes were bloodshot, knuckles bruised and bloody.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You’d imagined the firebird as something majestic. You’d imagined feathers dipped from the richest dyes trailing light from their ends like red, green, and blue sparklers. Instead, her eyes were the only vibrant feature about her, and they were sharp from hunger.

“What’s happened to her?” Cassian breathed. When he stepped forward, Vassa lunged from her perch, screeching when she clashed with the steel grate. Her claws tore at the metal but never broke through the magic Lucien had placed there.

Jurian whispered words of comfort and love through the metal, and in time, Vassa seemed to settle.

“It started last week,” Lucien said through clenched teeth, “The day Koschei got his hands on the book, Vassa started going mad. She can’t sleep, not in her human form or as a firebird, and she keeps… hungering for something she can’t name. The day we found Ione, she…”

“She tried to kill me.” Jurian raised his hands and slid his sleeves down. Claw marks, barely healed, ran jagged down his arms. “Let’s not mince words, Lucien.” He grimaced. “Koschei’s trying to call her back to the lake, but she’s fighting it with everything she has.” He looked back at Vassa, eyes dull and tired. She screeched once again and feathers fell from her body before curling up into blackened husks on the floor. You could just make out the sections of skin where she’d ripped out her own feathers, raw and dotted pink with blood. “I suggest you give us a room far away from everyone else.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

^^ Me writing this chapter because Helion finally beat the shit out of Azriel and revealed all the tea about his past relationships with Mor, Elain, and Gwyn and because I got to bring Lucien to the Night Court. And soon! We'll get to see how Lucien reacts when he learns that Y/n is his sister!!!!!!!

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst #yessssss Helion beat him up!#Daddy Helion to the rescue #we love a character with “don't touch my daughter” energy!

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hannieehaee · 5 months

Text

content: badboy!wonwoo (he's actually a cutie pie he's just v careless with his safety T-T), established relationship, break up, angst, fluffy ending (it's always fluffy endings here or i die), mentions of shady work, mentions of bruises, etc.

part 2

wc: 1191

a/n: thank you so much to the person who requested this!! im rlly bad with angst so this was hard haha if any of u want a smutty continuation pls lmk <3 i was gonna finish w smut but i wasnt sure ;-;

masterlist

"how can you expect me to care about you when you have such little regard for yourself?"

those were some of the last words wonwoo had heard from you last time he saw you.

he had, once again, arrived home late, blue and grey from yet another altercation he'd found himself in. he had promised you he'd leave his shady past behind. that he'd take care of you and you'd exist happily together, never having to worry for the other's safety.

it had taken you a while to break, begging him to put you out of your misery and either leave you or promise you a life in which you wouldn't be terrified every time he stepped foot out of the door. living without you was just unconceivable for wonwoo, which left him with only one choice.

he managed to keep his promise for about a week or two, happy to arrive punctual at home every night and find you waiting for him, more than ready to shower him with your affections.

he hadn't meant to break his promise. nothing broke him more than the look in your eyes as he entered your shared home, two hours late and with twenty missed calls from you. his skin was once again covered with bruises, disheveled hair and exhausted state to match. he hadn't thought this would be the end. that despite of his pleas to please stay, you'd still pack your bags, eyes filled with tears as you cried at him that you couldn't stay and watch him slowly kill himself like this. what you hadn't realized was that nothing could kill him more than your absence.

it had only been two weeks since you left him. two weeks since his last genuine smile graced his face. two weeks since he was able to sleep. and most ironically, two weeks since he'd gotten into some type of life-threatening altercation. his bruises had healed by now, taking longer than usual now that he didn't have you to tend to him like before. he still kept up with you, watching you from afar as you cruised through life. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, hoping to respect your decision to leave and take his heart with you, but your absence was too much for him. if he couldn't have you, he'd at least watch you from afar, dreading what he had lost. so that's what he did, and thats what he was currently doing right now.

you were attending some party, he'd found out. which meant he needed to be in attendance too and watch over you. he felt dejected as he watched you have fun with your friends, sad that maybe the breakup just hadn't been that big of a deal to you. maybe you were truly better off without him. maybe he needed to leave you alone and allow you to enjoy life without a burden such as jeon wonwoo.

he wanted to leave, he truly did, but his body wouldn't let him. he just wanted you back into his life so badly. everything had turned bleak the moment you left, making him just a shell of himself. he wanted to approach you and get on his knees (in front of all the wasted party goes, even) and beg you for forgiveness. he wanted to cry out to you how much he loved you, that you were the light of his life, that he'd leave it all behind for you. but he was too much of a coward to do that. so, he prepared himself mentally in order to leave, sparing one last look your way before disappearing into the crowd. except you were gone. in his distracted state, you had left. your friends were still there, but you were the sole disappearance. wonwoo knew he should've just left you alone, but he couldn't live with himself if something were to happen to you.

he frantically looked for you for a good five minutes before finding you in some empty balcony, sitting down against the rail with your legs hanging from it. he could only see your profile, but was able to spot the shine of your cheeks, a clear indicator that you'd been crying. he once again couldn't help himself when he spoke up.

"baby?" he was slow at approaching you, not wanting to surprise you too much.

you jumped a bit anyways, "wonwoo? what are you doing here?"

"i ... i wanted to see you. i'm sorry"

you had gotten up, now facing him but keeping yourself closed off, arms wrapped around yourself and eyes not meeting his, very much unlike your usual affectionate self.

"wonwoo ... you can't keep doing this. i know you've been following me around. you need to leave me alone."

"i .."

"do you think this is easy for me? i love you. so fucking much. i just cant watch you get hurt over and over. i cant wait home late not knowing if you'll actually come back," you'd began ranting, your emotions getting stronger by the second, "every time you leave it's like i have to hold my breath, and i cant breathe until i have you back to me safely. i can't do this anymore. i love you, i-"

wonwoo couldnt take it anymore. he walked the rest of the way and held onto you. he lightly grabbed you and placed you in his arms, engulfing your shaking form against his chest. you'd begun crying halfway through your speech, your words becoming slurred and you shook and sniffled throughout. wonwoo couldn't physically handle seeing you in such distress without wanting to take it away. so he held onto you. what surprised him was that you held him back. you nuzzled your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him as you sobbed against him, crying that you loved him.

"i love you ... so fucking much," pulling away, he made sure to look into your eyes as he spoke, "i can't exist without you. i'll stop- i stopped. i'll leave it all behind for you. we can leave. together. i'll do anything for you, just- please. please come back to me. i love you."

"wonwoo ..."

"i mean it! i'll keep you safe. i'll keep us safe. we can start new. just us. you'll never have to worry about me again, i promise. just need you back. please. i can't do this without you, i-"

like in any other cliche, you pulled him into you, kissing his words back into his mouth. but he didn't care. he kissed all emotions right back into yours, letting all the sadness he had in him dissipate against your lips. you kissed until you became lightheaded, sighing against each other's lips even when you were out of breath, refusing to pull away. wonwoo was finally the one to pull away, almost losing his mind at the way your lips chased after his.

"let me take you home? i love you. wanna take care of you."

and with that, you walked back into his life, hand in hand, with the promise that his love for you would keep him safe.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #svt angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo angst

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bubblebaththoughts · 4 months

Text

Breeding

Aged up!Olo’eyktan!Neteyam x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

kinkmas masterlist

warnings: 18+ MDNI, p in v, breeding kink, making the bond :),

translations:

Tsakarem - Tsahik in training

Tsaheylu - the bond

After the war, The Sully’s thanked the Metkayina and returned home.

With the exception of Lo’ak, he stayed with the reef people to be with Tsireya.

Tarsem wanted to step down from Olo’eyktan, but Jake refused to take the role away from the younger man, so Tarsem placed the responsibility on Neteyam.

With Neytiri gone, Mo’at had to find the next Tsahik, you.

And so you became Tsakarem.

Neytiri always knew that she didn’t ever truly desire to be Tsahik, she always wanted to be a warrior, so she was secretly glad that you took over her role.

Nonetheless, The return of the Sully’s threw you for a loop.

Suddenly, your courtship with Tarsem had ended, and you were arranged to be mated with Neteyam. Which, you didn’t really mind, you just wanted to continue your duty to the clan, it didn’t matter to you who you mated with.

It felt so… domestic.

Watching you teach the kids of the clan different skills.

Weaving, sewing, carving, healing.

You seemed to know everything there was to know.

He knew that being you being Tsakarem, you needed to know all of those things and more.

He wanted them to be his children that you both would teach them everything you knew.

He would put twelve of them in you right now, if you asked.

“You have duties, Neteyam, focus.” His father interrupted his train of thought

“Yes. Sorry sir. What were you saying?” Neteyam looked back at him

Jake merely shook his head.

“You know, you watch her a lot.” Jake discreetly pointed at you

“She is to be my mate, of course I have to look at her.” Neteyam flushed

Jake laughed, again shaking his head, “No… the way you stare is, it’s something else.”

It was the absolute most pestering desire to put a baby in you.

“I don’t know… I don’t know much about her and… I’m curious.” He shrugged

Jake gave his son a knowing look, “What ever you say.”

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to him, you were friends before him and his family left, but now there’s a bit of a rift because of the sudden circumstances you’ve both been put in.

He caught you slipping out of Mo’at’s hut that night, a smile on his face as he realized you were alone.

“Oh! Neteyam! You scared me.” You sighed as he stepped our of the dark

“I’m sorry, syulang… didn’t mean to.” He circled you, like a predator that had cornered its prey

Eywa… what was he doing? He felt almost animalistic as he watched your chest rise and fall.

“You know… When it’s time, we’re gonna need to be really comfortable around each other.” Neteyam tilted his head down at you

“I’m comfortable with you Neteyam.” You replied, an indescribable look in your eye

Neteyam placed his hands on your hips, pulling you against him.

“I don’t know if you know…” He cleared his throat, trying to not notice how close you two were “But we’re supposed to… create the next leaders.”

You nod slightly “Of course.”

“That doesn’t bother you, right?” His hand gripped your hips roughly

“Of course not.” You answered

“You can always say no but, I want to start that process sooner, rather than later.” Neteyam watched your face for any doubt.

His voice is gentle as he speaks, but his words are heavy. He's telling you about his desire to have a baby with you, and he's trying desperately to convince you. You can tell he means it, but it's still a lot to take in.

You don't know what to say. Your heart is racing, and you're feeling overwhelmed. You want to tell him no, or that it was too soon, and on the other hand, you wanted to have a child with him and secure your spot in his life.

He looks into your eyes, and you can see the promise he's making. He'll be a good father and take care of you, you know he would.

You take a deep breath and slowly start to nod your head. You can feel your heart racing as you agree to what he's asking.

He takes your hands, pressing small kisses to them, feeling a sudden wave of warmth and comfort.

“Knew you’d do it.” He leaned in, kissing your neck

He leads you back to the hut that you two would soon share in the near future, laying you down on the soft, handmade mat that was adorned with different things given to Neteyam since he became Olo’eyktan.

“Neteyam…” You moan as he settled between your legs

“Hm? What is it?” He mumbled in between kisses you your neck and jaw

“Need- need to make Tsaheylu, to get pregnant.” You tell him

He pulls back with a smirk “I know.”

He pulls his kuru to dangle in front of you.

“You’re serious? Right now?” You can’t help but laugh

“Why not? Might be breaking a couple rules, but I want this… you want this. And why should we delay something that’s already predetermined?” He explained

“Right…” You nodded, reaching back to bring your own kuru to your front.

He brings his down to yours, you feel a tingling feeling as they seemed to have a pull on each other.

The tendrils danced around each other before joining together.

Your senses felt incredibly heightened, like you could suddenly feel every nerve in your body.

Neteyam leans down, kissing your lips with a fiery passion.

While he’s distracted you, he’s untying both you and his loincloths, discarding them across the hut. His broad shoulders and arms seem to completely cage you in.

Everything was him.

You were feeling him, tasting him, seeing him, smelling him, hearing him.

Him. Him. Him.

He’s gotten you naked now, a small pinch of insecurity is nagging at you but you brush it away as soon as he begins to mumble little praises under his breath.

He pulls away from you, leaning back on his knees in between your leg as he tried to guide the thick tip of his cock to your entrance.

He watches as it goes in, little by little. His jaw hangs open as a breathy groan emits from his throat.

“Fuck- So fucking tight.” His eyes shut for half a second

He looks back down to you as he was leaning in, his arms caging you in once again.

“Baby…” He moans, “Too much?”

You shake your head no.

“Squeezing me so much…” He growled “Here, play with that clit for me, relax baby.”

Tears brim your eyes, feeling overwhelmed by new feelings and new sensations all at once.

“Oh my poor baby.” Neteyam mumbled, his hand finding the back of your head and pulling you into his shoulder.

He gives you a second before he pulled your head back, and placed a kiss on your lips.

As he held you against himself, he began to thrust into you, small and slow thrusts, but just enough to get you whining.

“Play with your clit baby, don’t you dare stop.” He growled at you

You listen, desperately rubbing at your clit.

Neteyam uses his thumb to wipe the tears from your eyes, whispering to you how good you feel.

“Gonna stretch this tight ass pussy out…” He moaned “Gonna make this pussy remember me.”

“Neteyam…” You whine “I need it.”

“Shh, I know baby.” He comforted you, as he nestled his head in your neck and placed gentle kisses on it

His thrusts slowly sped up, making your whines louder.

“Yeah there it goes.” Neteyam chuckled “You can cum on it. Cum on it baby.”

You let out a particularly loud moan as you came on his cock. Your head turned to the side where you held onto his bicep for dear life, leaning forward and let your teeth sink into his sweaty skin.

He tasted like a sweet and salty mixture, something indescribable.

He yelped in pain, his head dropped down to your neck, breathing heavily as he continued to roughly thrust into you.

Once you released him, he pulled back from you, a smile on his lips as he saw your fucked out face.

“Oh look at you.” His hand came up to rest on your cheek, and he began to gently caress your cheek with his thumb.

“Feels so good!” You cry to him

“I know, fuck I know.” He groaned “Gonna cum baby, gonna fucking cum in you.”

You threw your head back at his words, too many feelings all at once that made you feel so intensely overwhelmed. As if they’d never stopped, your tears began to roll again. Your legs wrapped around his waist as a sob escaped your lips.

He put his forehead against yours and pushed your hair out of your face, his eyes full of sympathy.

“It’s alright.” He whispered “Just be a good girl..”

“It’s too much.” You cried

“I know, I’m about to cum, hang on for me.” He moaned “Gonna make you get pregnant… Gonna breed this tight little pussy until it takes.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, continuous moan falling from your lips as his thrusts speed up. He’s completely relentless, whispering praises into your ear.

“Oh, Oh my- fuck I’m cumming.” He growled “Cumming in this little pussy… Gonna give you all of my kids…”

He whispered dirty promises to you until you felt the warmth of his cum fill you. You cry out to him from the new sensation, holding onto him firmly.

Even after he’s done, he doesn’t pull out. Opting to instead roll the both of you on your sides and pulling you closer together.

“Gonna fill you up every day until it takes.” He tiredly whispered to you

“A threat or promise?” You jokingly tease him

“Take it as you will.” He shrugged

taglist: @danniackerman @loaksslut

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eddie-van-munson · 3 months

Text

The Princess Bride (Farmhand!Eddie Munson x Princess!Reader)

***********

Warnings: Mentions of Blood (Nothing Graphic), Kissing, One Subtle Allusion to Smut, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn...I think that's it?

Summary: You've been best friends with the stable boy since childhood, but when a suitor comes from across the sea to ask for your hand in marriage, you're forced to finally confront your feelings for him.

A/N: I hope y'all like this! I've had this in my drafts for literally over a year, but people seemed interested when I asked, so here it is! Please, Please, Please leave a comment! It will keep me writing!

Six Years Old

Your earliest memory of him was from the stream.

His head was a mess of wild brown curls, so thick they nearly covered his eyes, and his pants had been rolled up past his knees. You'd been sitting in the gardens, ignoring your tutor's endless lesson on etiquette, when you spotted him through the clearing. He wobbled as he waded further, jumping forward suddenly as he tried to catch a fish with his hands. You had to hide your giggle with a polite cough, lest you be scolded.

The boy heard you, though. He stared at you as you obediently walked along the bank behind a man with a large nose.

You made eye contact with him, and as soon as he noticed he'd won your attention, it became a game. Suddenly, he was pulling funny faces and splashing around the creek like a giant. He held your gaze all the while, flashing you a two-front-toothless grin when you finally fell into a fit of giggles.

You'd had to recite forty lines that afternoon because of him, but it was well worth it to share a laugh as he mucked about in the water.

***********

Six Years Old

The next time you saw the boy, you'd fallen ill with fever. It'd been a few months since the stream, and you almost didn't recognize him as he plopped a bundle of healing herbs down on your bedside table.

"You don't look like a Princess." He crossed his arms before him as he eyed you suspiciously. "You're awfully pale…And you're not even wearing a crown or a dress or anything."

"I'm sick, you knob." You frowned, "No one wears a crown to bed."

He hummed, sticking up his nose. "I thought Princesses had to be grown-ups."

"I'll be queen when I'm a grown up." You announced, bossily. "And you'll have to do everything I say, or I'll send you to jail."

He scoffed, "Not if I'm the King! The Queen has to do what the King says!"

You rolled your eyes, "Well, you can't be King."

"Yes, I can! Haven't you ever read King Arthur?" He pointed, brows raising. "I just have to find an enchanted sword and pull it out of a stone. Then I'll be the King, and I'll send you to jail."

Your cheeks went pink as you argued, "King Arthur isn't even real!"

"Yes, he is! And I'll be just like him! King Edward the First!" You giggled, and the boy flipped around from where he'd started strutting around the room, proudly. "What?"

"Edward is a funny name."

As wildly offended as the boy was by this comment, he had to hide the smile that crept to his face at the sound of your hoarse laughter. "It is not!"

"Yes, it is! Who's ever heard of a King called Ed? King Eddie!" You held your stomach, falling into another fit of giggles.

He turned from you indignantly, "Fine! Stay here all alone with your smelly herbs, then! I don't need any silly ole' princess!"

"No!" You croaked, sitting up in bed. "Don't go. It's so boring up here. I can hardly stand it."

He sighed, putting a hand on his hip, and thought for a moment. "Only because you'll have me beheaded if I don't."

***********

Ten Years Old

"Oh goodness…You've gotten mud on your dress!"

Your mother fussed over the little blue dress you were wearing, kneeling beside you to get a better look at the damage. Splotches of brown had been smeared over your front. Even your hair had a few streaks of dirt.

"I got in a mud fight with Eddie." You informed her, as if the mess was perfectly justified by this.

She chuckled, "I see. It looks like he may have won this time, hm?" She gave your cheek a gentle pinch, making your nose scrunch.

"No, he didn't!" You turned, pointing at your friend. He dragged his feet behind you, looking defeated.

Your mother burst into pretty laughter at the sight of him, resting a hand on her stomach. "Oh lamb…come here."

The poor boy was absolutely caked in dirt. Not an inch of him was left unscathed. His wild curls were sopping with heavy mud, and you couldn't even see the embarrassed flush on his pouty face. He looked like he'd rolled around in the pig pen.

The queen tutted affectionately, smirking. "Oh what am I going to do with you two?"

***********

Thirteen Years Old

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Tears welled in your eyes as you sat in the windowsill in your room, watching Eddie as he walked quietly by himself in the distant fields, below. "I don't like seeing him cry."

"He'll be alright, love." Your mother cooed, taking a seat beside you. "I know it's hard to see him in pain, but the poor dear's lost his mother. It might take some time for him to feel like himself again."

You sniffled, holding your knees. The words trembled when you spoke again. "He'll be sent away, won't he? He won't be allowed to stay at the palace anymore."

The Queen frowned, stroking your hair. "Why do you say that?"

"His mother worked in the laundry. That's why he's lived here so long. Without her, he-" You trailed off, voice cracking as you gave a soft sob.

"Oh, silly girl." She chuckled softly as she dried your tears. "You think we'd throw Eddie out all on his own?"

Your brow furrowed, confused.

"Eddie's a strong boy, sweetheart. He works very hard in the stables and takes good care of the horses. He holds his own…and even if he didn't, he's family. We'd never send him away."

Your whole demeanor relaxed, "You really mean it?"

Your mother smiled, "Of course."

Still, your eyes didn't leave him. You sighed, "He's so sad...He's sad and I don't know how to fix it.

"I wish we could fix it for him, darling, but that's not how these things work. You can't take away that hurt. You just have to let him feel it." She straightened her dress as she stood, giving your hand a loving squeeze. "But that doesn't mean he couldn't use a friend."

***********

Fourteen Years Old

"I didn't know Princesses were allowed to climb trees." Eddie's grin was stained sweet and red, his legs crossed over a branch lazily as you plucked another strawberry from the bushel you'd collected that morning.

Your etiquette teachers would be appalled if they could see you now, wearing little more than a chemise in the summer heat as you straddled a thick tree branch. Your feet were bare and dirty where they hung in the breeze. You smirked, "They are if nobody sees them."

Eddie laughed, and it was such a clear sweet sound that you wished you could keep it tucked inside a locket. You sighed, longing to freeze time and keep things just the way they were forever.

You relaxed against a branch, "I've got my whole life to do what royalty is supposed to do. I've got to do fun things while I can still get away with it."

Eddie chuckled, "Maybe I'm a bad influence on you, after all.

You frowned, "Did someone say that to you?"

He shrugged, unbothered. "The maids whisper it. They say a young lady shouldn't be left alone with a young man." He put on his best 'prim' voice, making you giggle. "I'm a threat to your innocence!"

You held your stomach, laughing. "A threat to my innocence? That's horrible!"

He grinned, "You're telling me!"

The breeze rustled the leaves in the tree as you lounged, breathing in the sweet summer air.

Eddie had strawberry juice on his lips. For the first time, the tiny, ant-sized thought of kissing it away crawled into your brain. You squished the ant.

A bad influence, indeed.

***********

Fifteen Years Old

"Tag!"

Eddie sprang up from the corner of the barn, sprinting after you as you ran off into the fields.

You lost him quickly, cutting down and into the gardens. The morning dew was cool as the grass tickled your bare feet, and you nearly slipped as you ran over the stone path. A gloved hand grabbed your elbow to steady you. You turned to see a member of the palace guard; his brows furrowed. "There you are, Princess. Your Mother-"

It all happened so quickly. Eddie ran through the bushes, a playful grin tugging his lips, and grabbed you from behind, "I've got you!" He yelled, drowning out your giggles.

Before you realized what was happening, the guard ripped you from his hold, tossing you aside. Eddie was thrown onto the stone path, his temple hitting hard against the tile. Distantly, he heard you shriek. His vision was fuzzy and starry when he felt the weight of the guard pin him down, a drawn sword shoved against his throat. "You shall not touch her!”

"Stop! Stop it!' You grabbed the guard's arm, But he threw you back down. Eddie choked your name.

"Stay back!" The guard barked at you, pressing harder against the blade. Eddie could feel blood trickling from his head. He was trembling, eyes closed tight. Still, the guard yelled in his face, “Who are you? Hands by your side!”

"He's my friend!" You screamed hoarsely.

"Get off of him this instant!"

You'd never been so happy to hear your mother's voice in your life. The guard dropped his sword at the sight of her rushing towards him. Immediately, his face drained pale as a ghost. "Y-Your majesty!"

"Get off of the boy, for god sakes, he's a child! Get off!" The man clambered off of Eddie as your mother knelt beside him, fussing over him dotingly, "Oh sweetheart, your head…You're shaking like a leaf…"

He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. The queen turned to the guard as you pitifully crawled over to your friend, pushing his curls back off of his forehead. "I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

The guard searched for an explanation, "Your majesty, I thought the boy was-"

"I know what you thought!" She snapped, sternly. She was well aware of the whispers surrounding yours and Eddie's friendship. Your mother's lips were pursed, cheeks red. You'd never seen her like that before in your life. "It gave you no right to hold a weapon to that child's throat!"

"Your highness, I-"

Your mother ignored the guard, turning back to you. "Help me get him inside." You nodded obediently as she squeezed Eddie's shaking hand, "I'll send for a doctor to check your head, darling."

Eddie nodded, dizzily.

You sat with him later that night when the doctor had gone and his head had cleared. The mark on his forehead would scar, no doubt, but it had been well tended, and any concussion he suffered was minor. This knowledge, of course, did nothing to soothe his nasty headache.

"You're not a very good sport, you know." He groaned as you took his hand, smirking. "Siccing the palace guards on me just because I tagged you?" He tutted, "What a sore loser."

***********

Sixteen Years Old

"You have to tell!" You ran after Eddie as he hauled a sack of oats through the gardens to the stable.

He ignored you, holding his nose high. "No, I don't. I don't have to tell you everything just because you're a princess."

You crossed your arms, "You have to tell me because I'm your best friend, you knob. Best friends don't keep secrets!"

"Sure, they do. You mean to tell me you've never kept a secret from me?"

You groaned, "That's different! You have to tell me if you fancy someone!"

Eddie sighed, turning to face you, and dropped the sack of oats. "Why do you want to know so bad?"

You blushed, stammering. "I…I want to help you confess your love!"

Eddie laughed, "What a lie! You just want to tease me!"

"Oh, Come on!" You pouted, putting your hands on his shoulders. If you tell me who it is, I'll tell you a secret, too."

"Tempting." He sighed, picking up the sack again and throwing it over his shoulder. "But no."

***********

Eighteen Years Old

"You've got to keep it down…"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as he guided you towards the stables. "Why?"

He laughed, "If I told you why, then it wouldn't be a surprise."

He smirked when you groaned, reaching for the latch on the barn door. “You know I don't like surpris-..."

You went silent as he led you inside slowly, revealing a soft colored mare, and below her, her newborn foal.

"Oh!" You gasped, a smile creeping to your face. You stepped forward, wanting to approach the baby, but Eddie took your arm, gently pulling you back.

"You've got to be careful...the mare's protective of her. I nearly got kicked in the teeth this morning." He chuckled, enjoying the amazement in your eyes as you watched the mother and baby interact.

"She's beautiful." You mumbled, grinning.

Eddie couldn't help but smile, "She's strong too..." He paused, breath fanning your neck as he spoke just loud enough for you to hear. "She'll make a good riding horse, one day."

You met his brown eyed gaze, biting your lip shyly as he nudged your arm with his elbow.

You could feel him admiring you.

You liked it.

***********

Nineteen Years Old

"Oh, Eddie. He was horrible…You wouldn't have been able to stop laughing!"

Eddie clutched his stomach, laying back against the grass as he toyed with a wildflower. "That's because it's funny!"

Your fingers fumbled with the ends of your hair, untangling the intricate hairstyle it's been tied up in. "It's not so funny when it's you!"

Eddie grinned, looking starry eyed, "It really just fell off of his head?"

"During dinner!" You exclaimed. Eddie fell into another fit of laughter. "Right onto his plate in front of everyone!"

Your friend sighed, wiping his happy tears as he sat up to gather a handful of clovers. "I can't believe he wore an honest to God wig. The poor lamb."

You laughed at his faux sympathy, watching his hands as he wove together stems.

He looked so different from the little boy you'd befriended as a child. His wild curls had grown just past his shoulders now, his bangs often covering the scar on his temple. His arms and back were beautiful, muscles sloping gently beneath his skin, and while he was a hint more bronze than he had been as a boy, his freckles remained. His nose and his dimples had never changed in the slightest, and those big brown eyes reassured you that no matter how much Eddie had grown up, he'd always be that silly little boy, deep down. He'd always be your Eddie.

"But what's the verdict?" He chuckled, "You never said. Is he the one?"

You groaned, "You're mocking my pain."

"I am not!" He fought a smirk. "I didn't want to assume. Maybe he was a wonderful conversationalist."

You giggled, yawning. "I wouldn't know. I didn't catch a word he said after his hair went into his soup.

Eddie gave you a fond smile, laying on his elbow beside you, "Here you are, princess. A crown."

Your heart felt oddly achey as he draped a handmade crown of wildflowers over your head. You smiled, affection in your eyes.

Your throat was tight when you spoke, "You're better than any prince, Eddie Munson."

His cheeks flushed faintly. "Well, I don't know about that…" He tapped your nose playfully. "Most princes don't smell like a barn."

***********

Twenty Years Old

"Eddie, darling!" Your mother had called to him as he cut through the gardens back to the stable. His brows raised when he turned to find the Queen accompanied by you and the King. A man Eddie had never seen before held your arm, an unreadable expression on your face. Eddie bristled.

"Your Majesties." Eddie nodded his head politely as the group approached, his muscles stiff with wariness.

Your father gave a proud smile, gesturing to the stranger on your arm. "Son, let us Introduce you to Prince Carver the Fourth: Heir to the Throne of Hawkins."

"An honor to meet you, Your Highness." Again, Eddie bowed his head. He'd never seen someone that looked so stiff. The two of you would have fun joking about it, later.

Prince Carver was older than you, and by the looks of him, he'd never been outside a day in his life. Every last one of his blonde hairs had been tediously placed, as if he'd been sculpted out of clay, and his boots were perfectly polished black leather. The blonde eyed Eddie with disdain, crinkling his nose at the sight of his work clothes. "Yes, I'm sure."

Eddie fought an eye roll. Another suitor, he assumed. The Royals were only being polite by offering him a tour, seeing as he'd travelled so far only to be rejected.

The Queen stepped towards him, glancing at the prince. "Eddie has become a very dear friend to our daughter, Prince Carver. Perhaps he would make a nice addition to your staff. He's served us so well in our stables."

Confusion was visible in Eddie's face. An addition to his staff? What was going on? He looked to you for help, but your eyes were cast down into the grass.

Prince Carver cleared his throat, "Unfortunately, we aren't lacking any farmhands at the moment, but you need not worry about the princess, your highness. She'll find much companionship in Hawkins, once we are wed."

Eddie felt his blood go cold. Absolutely frigid.

Once we are wed. Once we are wed. Once we are wed.

His mouth opened to say something, but he couldn't find a single word. He was desperate to look you in the eyes, but his gaze was only met by a small shimmer on your left hand. An engagement ring.

"Please excuse me, Your Majesties."

****

Eddie hadn't cried like this since his mother died.

He hadn't felt the blow of such terrible loss since he'd been orphaned.

He sat alone in the barn on a stool, tears rolling down his cheeks as he gently stroked his fingers through the mane of the foal he'd surprised you with two years ago.

It was a pretty horse…full grown now and patterned with soft brown spots across her back. You'd named her "Sweetheart" after hearing Eddie call her that.

Come're, Sweetheart.

Here you go, Sweetheart.

Good job, Sweetheart…That's it.

Pain shot through his chest at the realization that the horse would probably get to go with you to your new home.

But not Eddie. Eddie would be left behind.

He clenched his jaw, eyes burning as he buried his fists in his curls and tugged. He was angry. He couldn't help but feel angry. It wasn't fair. His whole heart was being shipped off to God knows where, and there wasn't a word he could say about it.

It wasn't your fault. You were a princess. Your hand in marriage was a pawn in a game of political chess. It had been since the beginning. Both of you knew this. You always had. So why weren't the two of you happy that this inevitable union was one that would lead the country to thrive?

Eddie took a deep breath, relaxing his hands from his hair and rubbing tears from his face.

You'd daydreamed with Eddie before. Lots of times. It was always the same thing.

I wish we could just run off and live in the woods, Eds. Just you and me. We could build a little cottage beside a stream. That way, we could swim in the summertime. You could finally teach me to fish, too.

Is that what he'd been expecting? Had he hoped, deep down, that he'd somehow end up in that cottage after all, spending summer days with you by a stream?

Maybe. Or maybe he'd just wanted you.

He'd dreamt up hundreds of different futures for himself. There were countless paths he'd wandered down curiously in his head, over the years. Some were outlandish and fantastic…some were more modest. As much as they varied from day to day, he was realizing now that his hopes for the future had always held something in common.

He'd always had you.

****

The next week seemed never ending.

Eddie didn't see you once. You were avoiding him. That much was obvious.

Before the proposal, you made a habit of visiting Sweetheart at least once every day. You liked to brush her as you talked with Eddie, twisting braids into her coarse hair. She was spoiled rotten, no doubt, but that didn't leave the horse feeling any less deprived of attention with the sudden loss of your quality time. She'd gotten fussy over the week, whinnying and pacing in her stall. She'd even started kicking again, when she was feeling particularly agitated.

Still, you made no appearance at the stable. Eddie was surprised, however, to look over the gate one evening to find Prince Carver walking swiftly through the grass.

"Your highness." Eddie nodded, spotting the green apple in the man's hand. "Have you come to feed the horses?"

"Certainly not." Carver scoffed, "I've come on behalf of the Princess. I find it inappropriate for her, as a lady, to be spending time in the stables.

I've reassured her that I'll take it upon myself to fulfill any required visits with Sugarplum."

Eddie frowned, " Forgive me Your Highness, but I think you might be thinking of Sweetheart."

The man scoffed, slapping the apple down in Eddie's hand before storming off.

"Whatever the damned thing's name is."

Eddie swallowed hard, calling after him. "Would you like me to show you how to feed her, Prince Carver?"

The man laughed cruelly, "Heavens no. That's your job, is it not?"

**********

"What on earth are you-! Edward Munson!" You gasped, immediately dipping over the stone ledge of your window to reach for him. He laughed, flashing you a boyish grin as he took your hand, pulling himself up and over the sill.

Christ, you'll crack your skull one day!" You muttered, the both of you giving way to the effort and falling to the floor with a thump.

"For the present my skull remains intact." He reassured, giving a faux bow of his head.

You snorted, plucking dead leaves and briars from his thick dark curls. "What on earth put it in your head to climb all the way-"

Eddie caught your hand, his eyes landing on your engagement ring. His thumb brushed over its stone as your heart sank into your belly.

"Oh."

Eddie studied the ring for a moment, taking in its details. There was a long silence. Finally, you spoke.

"It's a dreadfully heavy thing." You pulled it off, placing it on your bedside table. "It catches on my gown, anyways."

A knowing smile crept to Eddie's lips. He sat in the silence for a moment before reaching into his pocket.

A small wooden ring was produced, painted delicately along the band with tiny white flowers. He slipped it onto your marriage finger. "How's that one?"

You were breathless. "It..it's..."

It was perfect. It was the most beautiful ring you'd ever seen, though you couldn't find the words to say so.

Eddie's thumb brushes over the flowers, "I carved that for you when we were sixteen."

Tears welled in your eyes.

"I had it in my mind to propose to you then. The gardener stopped me when he discovered my plan." He gave a sad chuckle. A comfortable silence hung between you. Eddie took your hand, humming. "Would you have said yes?"

"Eddie..." A tear rolled down your cheek, only to be brushed away carefully by his ever-gentle hand. You gave a sad laugh, your thumb stroking over his wrist. "You're not being fair."

"Maybe not." He whispered, "But any man should be damned if he saw you and didn't want to keep you."

"It's cruel." Your voice wavered with emotion. "You know I've loved you since we were children...nothing can be done about it, Eddie."

"Nothing can be done about it?" Eddie gave a humorless laugh, "You're going to be Queen. Everything can be done about it."

"What would you have me do?" Your brow furrowed. "Tell my father to end our alliance with Hawkins?"

"Yes! Hawkins only seeks to use us for our resources. Forest Hills is better off without their partnership."

You swallowed thickly. The cicadas sang their response from the Glenside below. Again, Eddie wiped your tears.

"Love is not something to be kept only for common folk. Your father will understand that. So will your kingdom."

Something in you crumbled under his gaze. You drew closer, letting him envelope you in his arms. He held you for a long time, stroking your back, sweetly.

"I spoke to your mother." He cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. Your head tilted back; eyes wide as you stared up at him.

"Did you?"

"Yes." His eyes were so warm and brown. You had admired them many times before this, but never quite so closely before. "I knew I was to ask for your hand...I couldn’t very well ask for your father's blessing, so I felt your mother's would be just as valuable. To us, at least."

You smiled, your forehead resting against his. "What did she say?"

Eddie chuckled at the memory, "She pinched my cheek red. I wish you could've seen it. She cried and held my hand...told me she'd always known I would ask her one day."

You gave a watery laugh, your fingers lacing tightly with his.

"She said she didn’t know if it was possible for me to make you mine, but that nothing would make her happier."

There was a long silence. Eddie cradled your face, "Do you feel the same, little Princess?" Your pretty eyes fluttered at his whisper. "Do you love me the way I love you?"

"How could you even ask?"

Eddie chuckled, "Because I've done nothing but profess my feelings for you tonight, and now I'd like to hear you do the same."

You chuckled, your smile fading with thought.

"I knew...I knew I loved you about five summers ago." Eddie smiled fondly, his cheeks going pink. "We practically lived outside then...the world seemed so bright and warm and I didn't realize then that it was all because of you." You reached up, carding her fingers through his messy hair. "The sun turned your curls golden on the edges-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he was kissing you. He was soft and warm and strong, holding you close as you melted for one another. Eddie laughed, breathless, when you parted. "I'm afraid I win, then. I've loved you far longer than that."

You laughed brightly as he kissed you again, working his way down your jaw to the column of your throat. "When?" You breathed, whimpering as he nipped at the crook of your neck.

"It's hard to say." He moaned softly as you coaxed him back up to your lips, your hands lacing in his hair. "All I know is that I've never loved you more than I do right now."

Another tear rolled down his love's cheek. He kissed it away.

"But why these tears, now? Am I really that terrible?"

You gave a watery laugh. "No. Not at all I...I just..." You gave a little sob. "I want to marry you. I want to be your bride and keep you always, but I can't-"

"Marry me, then. Right now."

You frowned, tucking a strand of his curls behind his ear. "What?"

Eddie thumbed your ring as he caught your hand. "Do we not have a ring? A gown?" He swallows thickly, eyes darting between your night clothes and the mattress beside you. "A marriage bed?"

Slowly, You stood, guiding Eddie to stand before you. "We...we have to make a vow"

"What kind of vow? I've never been to a wedding."

You stared up at him, eyes brimming with love. "S-Something about.... For richer and for poorer. Through sickness and in health. From each sun to each moon."

"May I write my own?"

A tear rolled down your cheek as you nodded.

He looked down at your hands, so soft and perfect in his rough ones. "I wish I could tell you that as my wife, you will want for nothing. I wish I could make you flowery promises about how you won't have a care in the world...but since I can't make you those promises, I'll make you the ones I can."

He knelt before you, gazing up into your eyes.

"I promise to you that no matter how hot the summer's day, I'll always climb to the highest branches to find you perfect, sun-spotted apples."

You giggled, a grin splitting your cheeks.

"I promise to let you spoil your horse as badly as you wish. Never again will I deprive her of a single sugar cube."

Another giggle. Eddie kissed your knuckles.

"I promise to kiss you...often and abundantly...until you can't bear to kiss me even once more."

Eddie grinned at your blush.

"I can't build you castles, but I promise you a home. I promise you food to eat and sturdy walls to keep you warm. I promise you children to nurse and adore."

Eddie paused, heart fluttering.

"And I promise you love. The same love for you that I've held long since before I even knew what I was feeling."

His voice wavers.

"I promise that at the end of our lives, I will still feel it."

Eddie clasped your hand with his, "So, Princess. If you'll have me...then with this ring, I thee wed."

You repeated his words, falling to your knees to embrace him. Eddie caught you in his arms as he stood, peppering kisses to your nose, then your cheeks, and finally, your lips.

His thumb brushed your new ring, gently. "I can't tell you how it feels to see you wearing it." He gave a watery laugh. "It's been sitting on my nightstand for four years now."

"I wish I could wear it always..."

"Why can't you?" He pulled back to meet your eyes.

Your expression sunk, "I'm afraid I'm still scheduled to be wed tomorrow morning."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous." He hummed. "You think I'd allow another man to marry my wife?"

"Eddie..." He scooped you up, laying you gently upon your mattress before sitting beside you. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid tomorrow."

He chuckled as you combed through his curls with your fingers. "When have I ever been known to do stupid things?"

"I mean it. You remember what happened the last time someone thought you were a threat to my innocence. It would kill me to see you hurt." Your fingertips grazed the scar on his temple, stiffening at the memory of his head hitting stone.

There was a long silence as Eddie gazed at the ring. He kissed each of your fingertips slowly. "Do you trust me?"

"More than anything."

Eddie smiled at this, holding your hand to his heart, "Then don't worry."

You gave a hesitant smile. Eddie cradled your body against his, gently combing through your hair.

"We must leave tonight." He whispered. "Disappear into the woods. If we rode as far as we could on Sweetheart, it would be nearly impossible for them to find us by the time morning came. It would be difficult, but we'd be free."

Immediately, you tensed. "Eddie, no. He could have you killed if they found us."

"Then you'd better hold me awfully tight for as long as you can, my love."

**********

You woke to the sound of water rushing beside you. You laid upon a bed of moss; a thick blanket tucked around you. You felt shade cover you as a figure knelt as your side. A hand on your head, pushing your bangs back lovingly. You stretched and groaned in response, not wishing to leave behind the warmth of your blanket, and kept your eyes closed.

"What a shame." Eddie cooed with a smirk, seeing right through your fib. "My little wife is simply too weak and exhausted to carry on. I suppose I must leave her behind..."

Your eyes flew open, taking his bait. "Leave her behind!?"

Eddie laughed brightly, pulling you into a smiley kiss. You were beginning to think nothing in the world felt better than kissing him.

Eddie's nose nudged against yours as he hummed passively. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Your jaw dropped, "I do not, Eddie Munson."

He giggled, "You most certainly do, Mrs. Munson. We had a whole conversation whilst you slept."

"What about, pray tell?"

Eddie laid on his back beside her, letting her rest against his chest as he tucked his arms behind his head. "How handsome I am."

You smirked, rolling your eyes as you kissed him. The sun was warm and the cool earth beneath you felt like silk beneath your skin.

"I feel like I could do anything I wanted out here. No one could stop me."

"You could." Eddie smirked with another peck. "But I'm afraid we must keep traveling, my love. We still have a long way to go."

"How far are we going?

He tucked hair behind your ear, "So far they'll never find you. So far that it will be impossible for them to take you from me."

You nodded, curling in against him.

"And once we have finally traveled far enough..." Eddie grinned down at you. "I shall build you our cottage by the stream."

***********

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