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#i fucking hope he chokes and keels over
aroaceleovaldez · 5 months
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Nico and Percy's dynamic through the series is eternally funny to me, because it's just. like.
Percy's having a constant mental struggle between his fatal flaw of loyalty with a promise he made to Bianca to protect Nico, versus his Big 3 kid desire to maim other Big 3 kids / Poseidon descendant urge to totally maim Nico specifically. He hates Nico so so much. He thinks Nico's annoying and weird at best, and creepy/sketchy when he's older. The only positive thoughts Percy has towards Nico are "He's Bianca's brother and Bianca was my friend and I owe her/He's Hazel's brother and Hazel is my friend and would kill me if I was mean to him," "He's a powerful asset and useful ally (if questionable)," and "He's kinda pathetic and I feel maybe a little bad about it." Percy has multiple occasions throughout the series where he strongly considers - and on one occasionally actually goes through with - throttling Nico.
Meanwhile, Nico is following around Percy like a lost puppy. He explicitly can never bring himself to even dislike anything about Percy no matter how hard he tries. He has a whole bit in BoO where he's mentally going "UGH he's so stupid BUT IT'S ENDEARING HOW DARE HE." He's totally smitten. He's making deals with his dad for Percy. He's making convoluted plans to help Percy stand a chance against Kronos. During the entirety of BoTL it's like he's playing tsundere - "I'm helping NOT PERCY SPECIFICALLY with this quest! Me helping Percy would be SILLY because I DEFINITELY HATE HIM." Then he proceeds to show up to Percy's birthday party to basically ask him on a weird date and spend the entire next book scrambling around trying to help him or protect him or impress him. And Percy could not give less of a shit.
Just. That dynamic is so funny to me. Percy is the founder of the Nico Protection Club in that he's the one they're all protecting Nico from and meanwhile Nico is throwing himself at Percy to the point where the literal god of gay love calls him out on it.
#pjo#percy jackson#nico di angelo#Percy shows up at CJ and squints at Nico like ''hm. why do i feel like i hate you? like i just wanna punch you in the face?''#and Nico just immediately goes ''huh no idea anyways i have to go-'' and jumps into Tartarus#but not before he gives Hazel essentially a detailed explanation of ''this is Percy i cant say much but please dont let him die <3''#and Nico's whole Tartarus trip was basically a whole ''im doing this so no one else has to''#only for Percy and Annabeth to fall in like one book later and Nico proceeds to spend the next book internally screaming about it#and then Cupid calls him out on it and the next book#Nico's just like ''at this point im hoping i keel over within the next week just so i can force this dumb crush to chill the fuck out''#Nico staring pointedly at Will: ''For my own sake i need to form another crush RIGHT NOW so i can finally get over Percy.''#''this has been so bad for my health''#Nico's crush on Percy is just too funny to me. horrible pick my guy. terrible job. love that for you. he could not be less interested.#Percy LITERALLY TRIES TO KILL NICO and ditch him in the underworld and Nico is somehow STILL like ''but i love him''#Percy basically chokes him. beats up his dad. tells him ''go get smited by your dad for me.'' and ditches him.#and Nico's opinions/crush on him DO NOT CHANGE#though also Nico's reaction to Percy beating up his dad + skeletons is SO funny. his jaw is on the floor. he's flustered about it.#he just witnessed Percy be incredibly hot and proceeded to go ''yea i'll do anything for this man. collect reinforcements of 3 gods? sure''#nico you absolute DISASTER with HORRIBLE TASTE. you can do better. raise your standards.#which tbh is funnier when you factor in sun and the star. Nico just wont stop crushing on guys who dislike him and everything he stands for
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wonusite · 4 months
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The Thing About Pretty Boys
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❝ You’re convinced that pretty boy Seonghwa could never fuck anyone stupid. He decides to prove you wrong. ❞
PAIRING: park seonghwa x female reader
GENRE: friends to lovers au, smut
WORD COUNT: 4k
WARNINGS: pwp, repressed feelings, overuse of the word pretty (sorry not sorry), seonghwa is HUNG, cock drunk!reader, pussy drunk!seonghwa, mentions of anal, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, multiple creampies, backshots, squirting, dumbification, possessiveness, breeding kink, overstimulation
A/N: this has been long overdue, and i hope you guys like it! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
“There’s no way.”
Your incredulous snort makes Seonghwa pause. He whips his head in your direction, pretty frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. You keep laughing, keeling over until your loose nightshirt starts to hang off one of your shoulders. The way you’re falling over like he said something hilarious is starting to irritate him. Like really fucking bad.
When you finally stop laughing, you notice the deep scowl your friend is directing at you. Even as he's directing a scornful glare at you, he looks unfairly pretty. The thought makes you huff out one last weak laugh. “What? Don’t give me that look.”
His jaw flexes, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “You believed fucking Mingi when he said the same thing.”
Your nonchalant shrug makes Seonghwa’s eye twitch in annoyance. He’s not offended, not exactly. It’s just the slightest bit irritating that he’s literally in your room, on your bed, alone, and you still can’t think of him in a way he desperately wants you to.
“Because it’s obvious that Mingi knows what he’s doing. Like, you can tell he’s a beast in bed.”
“And what makes you think I’m not?”
It’s weird that he’s so insistent on getting you to believe him. Seonghwa usually doesn’t care about what anyone thinks since he claims to know himself the best, so other people’s opinions don’t really matter. Apparently, he isn’t too different from all the other guys you’ve met. It’s kind of cute.
“I just— Who cares?” You splutter, suddenly feeling flustered with how he’s staring at you so intently.
“Tell me why.”
You nearly recoil in shock at how assertive and dominant Seonghwa sounds. His tone and hard eyes makes something inside you flutter with desire. Taken aback by your own indecent reaction, you clear your throat and avert your eyes back to the paused sex scene out of a movie you can't remember the name of.
If you could go back in time and pick a different movie that hadn’t started this entire thing, you would.
“Fine.” You sigh, willing yourself to calm down. “I just think that most pretty boys aren’t able to fuck anyone stupid. That’s all—it’s nothing personal.”
Oh, but it is.
To Seonghwa, who had pictured you writhing and screaming from pleasure under him way too many times to be considered normal, it’s definitely personal.
“I could fuck you stupid.”
His words hang in the air heavily. You expect him to give you that pretty, nonchalant smile of his and tell you that he’s joking. But he doesn’t. In fact, Seonghwa is looking at you with an unmistakable heat and determination in his gaze that has you feeling like prey.
“Whatever.” You force yourself to choke out a laugh, mind already wandering to what it would be like to fuck such a pretty man.
Seonghwa seems unfazed by your dismissal. He stands up from your bed before kneeling at the edge in front of where you’re sitting. You let out a shocked yelp when he grabs your bare legs and yanks you toward him. His eyes are dark as he gazes up at you like he’s going to devour you.
The heat coming from his hands and just having him nestled between your legs makes your cunt throb. It’s embarrassing how fast you’re getting turned on, but you blame it on the fact that it has everything to do that Seonghwa is just so damn pretty.
“H-Hwa.” You actually fucking whimper, sounding completely needy.
“Gonna let me prove it?” He smirks, hands gently caressing your thighs that are unconsciously spreading for him.
“Fine.” You try to sound like you aren’t already soaking, horny mess. “You have to hurry, though. Sannie’s gonna be back soon.”
Seonghwa nearly growls at the mention of your clingy roommate. He trails his hands up the soft skin of your thighs and grips the edges on your panties. You let out a scandalized gasp when he literally rips them off of you. He throws them over his shoulder before flipping up your oversized shirt and exposing your hot cunt to the air.
His groan makes you clench around nothing. Before you can say anything, Seonghwa yanks you forward and smashes his face into your wet pussy. Any and all coherent thoughts are quickly ejected from your mind. You let out a small moan when you feel your friend’s tongue split through your folds, tasting you for the first time.
“Fuck.” Seonghwa moans into your cunt. “I knew you would taste good.”
His words make your brain turn into literal mush because what the fuck? Had he been thinking about what it would be like to eat you out? The mere thought has more juices spilling out of you. Your body’s reaction only spurs Seonghwa on, his hands gripping your thighs tighter and pulling you further on his mouth.
You toss your head back with a moan. All you can feel is his tongue plunging deep inside you. Every time his nose bumps against your throbbing clit, it sends jolt of pleasure up your spine.
“S-Shit, Hwa.” You whimper, hands falling to his messy hair.
Seonghwa smirks into your pussy when you start to tug on his hair. He hums against your leaking hole before latching onto your swollen nub and suckling on it with a lewd slurping sound. Your cries of pleasure sound like music to his ears, and it makes him more determined to have you begging and crying for his cock. Seonghwa is sure your moans would sound even prettier when he’s actually splitting you open with his dick.
“So good.” You mewl as he keeps sucking on your aching bud. “K-Keep doing that.”
Seonghwa starts to plant sloppy kisses on your glistening folds before dragging his tongue up your slit. He repeats the action a few times before he sucks your puffy clit back into his mouth. The sight of your face twisting in pleasure is a sight he’ll never forget. To see the object of his fantasies writhing and shaking from pleasure has his cock straining in his pants, eager to be stuffed into your cunt.
You start to grind your pussy into his face as he keeps licking and fucking you with his tongue. His ravenous movements are like that of a starved man, and soon you feel your abdomen tighten with the need to release.
“I-I think I’m gonna come.” You moan, surprised that he managed to get you so close to an orgasm in such a short amount of time.
Seonghwa groans into your sopping cunt. “Do it, baby. Come all over my tongue. Let me taste you.”
You gasp out his name as a wave of pleasure suddenly washes over you. The tight coil in your stomach snaps as your walls become impossibly tight. Your moan is loud and wanton as you squirt all over your friend’s face.
Seonghwa’s moan sounds animalistic as he presses his tongue flat against your entrance, collecting all your sweet juices and slurping you dry. He’s practically making out with your pussy until there’s none of your addicting cream left to lap up.
“Mhm, baby. You taste so fucking good.”
You’re a trembling mess as he plants gentle kisses on your inner thighs before standing up, your juices covering his chin. The sight of you all fucked out because of him, makes the desire in his gut get more intense.
“Sorry.” You huff out, mind a bit more clear when you see him licking his lips. “I-I’ve– that usually doesn’t happen.”
To be exact, it’s never happened.
“I’ll forgive you.” He sounds sweet as he starts to unbuckle his belt. Seonghwa pulls his shirt off before pulling his pants down until he’s left in only his underwear, impressive bulge standing out. “But only if you do it again—on my cock this time.”
You can’t be mad that he looks so smug because he’s just so fucking pretty. He becomes even more attractive after sliding his underwear off and letting his big cock slap against his lower abdomen. The large organ is intimidatingly long and thick as it throbs and leaks with precum. Your mouth waters, and you can’t be surprised that his cock is a pretty as he is.
Unfortunately, you don’t get to admire it for too long because Seonghwa grabs you and flips you around. You’re propped up on your elbows and knees to support your weight, large shirt bunching at your waist as he arches your back to the angle he wants.
Seonghwa licks his lips as he squeezes and caresses your ass, leaking cock throbbing at the pretty sight of you all ready to get fucked. This is way better than any of his fantasies, and he hopes that this is only the first time of many.
“Such a pretty ass. Maybe you’ll let me fuck it next time.” His sultry voice has you dripping in desperation. “But for now, let’s see how much you can handle, baby.”
A needy, pathetic mewl tumbles out of you as Seonghwa presses his oozing tip against your entrance. He rubs and taps it against your folds, enjoying how you’re desperately rutting your hips back. Just minutes ago you were adamant that he wasn’t capable of getting this sort of reaction.
Your mouth drops open in pleasure when he slowly eases his cock into you. “O-Oh, fuck.” Your moan is weak as your eyes slowly close.
Seonghwa looks down to where his fat cock is pushing into your tightness, stretching you wider than ever before and claiming your pretty cunt as his. The sight is mesmerising, and he can’t stop the deep moan he lets out from it. His cock throbs wildly as he finally bottoms out. You’re so hot and tight that he might actually blow his load before he even gets the chance to fuck you properly.
His cock is hitting your deepest spot, and you let out a wanton moan as you tightly grip your sheets. “Fuck me!”
A carnal desire takes over Seonghwa when he hears your needy cry. He’s never been able to deny you anything, and he doesn’t plan to start now. Immediately, he begins to pummel in and out of you, fucking your sopping cunt roughly. Obscene noises fill the room as his pelvis slams against your ass.
Seonghwa can’t take his eyes off your pretty little pussy and how it swallows his cock so perfectly. His heavy balls are being stained with your arousal as they slap against your puffy clit. He becomes more ravenous with every rough thrust.
“You’re already soaking my cock, baby. I fucking knew you wouldn’t be able to get enough.” He grunts as he grabs your hips, quickly growing obsessed with how you feel around him.
It's true, and you can't deny it. Not that you want to. His cock is stretching you out so good that you can’t think straight.
“So fucking good.” You mewl as you deepen your arch so he can fuck you deeper.
One of Seonghwa’s hands trails down your body to squeeze your ass while the other goes around your waist to rub your sensitive clit. He pounds into you harder, loving the cries and whimpers you’re letting out every time he fucks his cock into your juicy cunt. You’re throwing yourself back on him to meet his thrusts, loving how his big cock splits you open with every snap of his hips.
“Gonna ruin this sweet little pussy so only I fit.” Seonghwa growls, spanking your ass harshly.
His words make you clench on his cock and coat it with more of your cream. You whine and cry out for him, already feeling any thoughts that aren’t about his big dick being fucked out of you. His hips start to snap with a rough precision you claimed he wasn’t capable of, and you wonder how longer it’ll take him to realize that he already proved you wrong.
Seonghwa feels your cunt start to tighten around his cock like it doesn’t want to let go. With the way you’re starting to tremble, he can tell you’re close to falling apart. But he wants to see your face when you do. It’s the thing he’s wanted the most since he met you.
You cry out in protest when Seonghwa abruptly pulls out his hard cock of your pussy. Before you can beg him to put it back in, he’s flipping you on your back. He gently caresses your shaking thighs with a heated gaze. Then, he’s removing the big shirt you have on, dark eyes taking in every inch of your exposed body.
“Hwa.” You plead through a needy mewl. “Don’t tease.”
The look on your face makes his cock throb painfully. You look absolutely fucked out, and to think he hasn’t even made you come yet. Seonghwa licks his lips and teases your soaking entrance with his leaking tip. His smirk is deviant, but so hot that all you can do is buck your hips desperately. Unlike your initial thoughts, your friend doesn’t make you wait.
It’s satisfying how Seonghwa’s jaw snaps open as he watches your pretty pussy slowly get filled with his thick cock. The erotic sight drives him to start fucking into you again. He lets out a deep groan when he sees your cream coat his entire length as you squeeze him tighter than anyone ever has.
Pleasure consumes you and licks up your entire body as Seonghwa pounds his cock into your hot cunt. Your moans turn into loud cries that mix into the lewd squelching coming from where you two are connected when he presses your legs to your chest. The new position allows him to fuck into you deeper than before.
All coherent thoughts are slowly dissipating every time his cock pounds against your sweet spot. A carnal desire takes over and has you begging for more through broken whimpers. “Fuh-Fuck. Fill me up, Hwa.”
The moan Seonghwa lets out is as pretty as he is. Your wanton pleas trigger something primal inside of him, and he feels himself going feral at the thought of breeding you.
“You want my cum, baby?” He coos sweetly, heavy balls slapping against your ass in sync with your wanton moans.
It’s embarrassing how fast you nod, back arching as you feel a wave of pleasure start to consume you. His cock is throbbing inside you, and all you can think about is milking him for all that he’s worth. “Want it so bad!”
“Fuck.” Seonghwa sucks in a sharp breath. “Pretty little pussy’s so tight for me.”
Your filthy moans are quickly stifled when Seonghwa bends down to kiss you. His movements are passionate and desperate, teeth tugging at your bottom lips. It feels like your brain has turned into static with all the euphoric sensations consuming you. All you can focus on is his cock splitting you open and the sounds of your skin slapping against his.
When Seonghwa pulls back, he maintains eye contact. As you stare into his eyes, you can see that they’re filled with an emotion that goes beyond lust and arousal. It makes your heart pound for an entirely different reason. His gentle stare is a great contrast to the rough snap of his hips.
That affectionate look is all it takes for you to squirt all over your friend once again. Your cry is loud as you cover his abdomen with your orgasm.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Make a mess all over me.” Seonghwa moans as he watches you go dumb on his cock.
The sight of your pretty face slack with pleasure has him fucking into your cervix savagely. Your cunt is gripping his cock so tightly that it doesn’t take long for him to release his thick load inside you. His thrusts grow sloppy as he starts to fill you with ropes of cum. Your soppy cunt is overflowing with so much of his seed that it bubbles around the base of his cock and leaks down to your ass—a filthy sight Seonghwa will never forget.
You’re both panting as he slowly lets go of your legs. Seonghwa watches you carefully, but doesn’t make a move to pull out of you. He wants to keep you plugged and full of his cum, and by how you slowly wrap your legs around his waist, it seems like you feel the same way.
When you come back to your senses, you nervously lick your lips when you see Seonghwa’s smirk. “What?”
“You’re a squirter?” His words sound teasing.
“N-No.” You pant out, unsure of how to tell him he’s the only one capable of evoking such a reaction from your body.
Apparently, your friend only sees this as another one of your challenges. He caresses your soft thighs as a challenging look crosses his face.
“Do it again.”
Seonghwa starts to move again, his aching cock sliding against your walls with ease as he fucks his cum deeper inside you. He unhooks your legs from his waist so he can place them on his shoulders. From this angle he can see your filthy cunt being split open on his thick cock.
“I can’t.” You manage to moan out, loving how his dick drags against your velvety walls with precision. “God, Hwa. I-It’s too much.”
“You say that, but your pretty little pussy keeps squeezing my cock like it doesn’t want to let go.” He says as his thumb starts to rub slow circles on your throbbing clit. “I’m sure you can squirt for me again if I give you another load, hm?”
Seonghwa’s smirk is cocky when he feels your cunt tighten around him again. He loves how you don’t deny it. In fact, you whine out a quiet more as he continues to fuck you. His thumb is still stimulating your puffy bud as his hips snap into you. Clearly, your friend is enjoying fucking you to the point of delirium. You can’t complain because you’re enjoying it just as much.
“Tight little cunt was made to take my cock.” He grunts as his eyes start to roll to the back of his head.
You can’t fathom how it feels like he knows your body more than you do. His cock keeps ramming against your g-spot, and all you can do is let out moans and mewls of pleasure. You’re sure it won’t be long until you come again.
A ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock and slowly drips down his balls and on to the sheets. Seonghwa knows you won’t ever be able to forget how good he’s fucked you, and he also knows that he’s potentially ruined you for any other man. Not that he would let you go after feeling your pussy.
“God, baby. Your sweet pussy’s already gonna make me come again.” Seonghwa groans, thrusts becoming tougher and sharper. “Gonna let me come inside again?”
“Yes!” You squeal, already gone dumb again. “Come inside me!”
The overstimulation has lewd and filthy sounds coming out of you, but you can’t help it. Especially not when you look down and see how his big cock is piercing into your tight cunt. You gasp and jolt as he continues to ram into you like you’re nothing more than a hole. Your legs start to tremble as your third orgasm abruptly hits you.
Like the two previous times, your toes curl as you uncontrollably squirt on his cock.
“Such a good girl.” Seonghwa praises you with his pretty smile. “Here’s your reward.”
He slams into you a few more time before he spills his thick seed inside you, filling you to the brim. Your eyes roll back as your pussy contracts around Seonghwa’s pulsing cock. The feeling of his hot cum filling your insides is so fucking good that all you can do is mewl his name weakly and pathetically. It feels like your mind is clouded with a euphoric haze preventing you from thinking straight.
Soon, Seonghwa pulls out of your creamy cunt, his cum dripping out of you and staining the sheets beneath you. His eyes darken at the sight of your sensitive folds covered with his seed. A low growl builds in his chest as he swoops down to smash his lips on to yours. You moan into his mouth as he parts your lips with his tongue to deepen the kiss.
When he pulls away from you, he gives you another lascivious smirk. “We’re not done yet, baby.”
It shouldn’t excite you this much that he’s not done. You’re literally dripping with his cum, but you still want more. His hard, throbbing cock is resting against your sloppy pussy, and you start to gyrate your hips to get him to fuck you again. Maybe you’re already addicted, but it doesn’t matter because Seonghwa seems to feel the exact same way.
A quiet moan rips from your throat when he starts to fuck his cock between your messy lips. You cry out from the sensation, still sensitive from the other orgasms he’s ripped out of you. Slowly and teasingly, Seonghwa drags the tip of his fat cock down to your entrance, moaning when more of his cum seeps out of you. The sight is something he’ll never forget and always try to recreate.
The noises you let out are so cute and needy that they make his cock throb painfully. Seonghwa slowly eases into you for a third time, base of his heavy cock touching your core and big balls resting against your ass. Your pussy is pulsing around him as you leak with your mixed releases.
You can feel Seonghwa’s cock so deep inside you that it’s dizzying and almost comparible to being drunk. Vaguely, you think this is what it must be like to be cockdrunk.
“So fucking pretty. All for me.” Seonghwa groans hotly.
The breath is almost knocked out of you as he drags his dick back before ramming it back into the depths of your wet pussy. He begins to pound into you, the sound of skin on skin quickly filling the room.
Seonghwa stares down at your pretty face while he fucks you into oblivion, making sure to memorize every aspect. From the way your eyes roll into your skull when he spears his big cock into you to how your jaw falls slack so quickly. It’s all for him, and he knows he wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.
“S-Seonghwa!” You squeal, toes curling and limbs starting to tremble.
The familiar sensation gets worse as your friend continues to fuck into your guts, stroking your walls with his thick cock. He’s slamming into your sweet spot with a savage like pace that you know it won’t be long before you fall apart again.
“That’s it, baby. Cream all over my cock.” Seonghwa groans as you mewl at his filthy words.
As if his voice and words are a trigger, your body starts to react. His harsh thrusts make you start to convulse, effectively soaking his cock. As if it’s all you’re capable of giving him, you weakly come on his aching dick with a choked moan. Your tits are bouncing with every thrust, body twitching as Seonghwa roughly fucks you through your orgasm.
“Want your cum.” You mewl, and Seonghwa simply begins to fuck you quicker.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna pump you full until you’re leaking with my cum for days.” Seonghwa promises through possessive growls as he sloppily fucks into your soiled cunt.
Seonghwa suddenly stills deep inside your pussy, spilling his hot seed inside of you. Thick, white ropes of cum paint your walls until it leaves his cock dripping. He nearly slumps on top of you, but then he rolls over and onto his back, taking you with him. His cock stays inside you, keeping you plugged with his many loads.
“How are you feeling?” The soft voice you recognize is back as Seonghwa gently caresses your naked back.
You sigh into his neck, feeling completely sated. “Full.”
His pretty laugh makes you smile, and you can’t help but think that Mingi was right when he told you that thing about pretty boys.
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vesper-tinus · 1 year
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Could I request a little something with Ghost in which reader (soldier from the 141 also) and him fuck casually “without catching feelings” and in a mission she gets shot and thinks she’s going to die, ghost freaks out and she tells him: ‘you know what I think? I think you’re gonna have to find another fuck buddy’, and he confesses that he had loved her all along?
Hello! You most certainly can! Really putting Simon through the trenches, huh? I hope this is akin to what you were looking for! Enjoy 🖤
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𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female ! Reader
Summary: Fatally injured during a mission, Simon tends to you in your final moments. Keywords: Reader is a lieutenant, angtsy questionmark? Blood, injury, death (or is it 😏). Wordcount: 1051
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“You’ll live, just sit still for fuck sake,” Ghost barks demandingly as you feel his palm press against your hand, pressing your wound. There’s an edge to his voice, one you’ve never heard before. It’s… different. Different from his usual, cool demeanour you are often subjected to out in the field. There are no quips, no one-liners. He almost seems agitated with you. At everything around you. 
Well. You have the perfect remedy for that.
“That your professional opinion, sir? Because from where I’m sitting”—you suck in a sharp breath, clenching your teeth as you almost keel over in pain, exhaustion, and whatever the hell this feeling is—“because—fuck—I think you’re gonna have to find a new fuck buddy,” you hiss, attempting to chuckle. You don’t want him to be like this with you. Not in your final moments. You want him to call you a moron, and make a joke at your expense. Call you thick-headed and stubborn. Something, anything. You think hearing the subtle lilt in his voice as he cracks a joke would be a pleasant thing to hear in your final moments. 
“That’s not funny.”
You attempt to raise your head to look at him, though the blood oozing down your eye makes it difficult to see much of anything. You had almost forgotten the nasty scar running across your forehead. Almost. Adrenaline does the damndest thing to your senses, you haven’t even noticed he’s been wrapping your waist the best he could, to keep the blood from pouring further. 
“That’s not fuckin’ funny, I—” Ghost swallows a breath through gritted teeth. His features are hidden beneath the skull mask you’ve become so familiar with. It’s fitting, almost, dying in the face of death itself—a skull. Your eyes feel heavy as you envision what it would look like. Would he carry you across the threshold back to the team? You, bloodied and dead in his arms, and him a visage of death? Carrying you to the afterlife? 
You let out a gasp as Ghost violently shakes you awake, barking your name like it was an order, like it was the worst thing he ever had on the tip of his tongue. 
You want to stay awake, but it’s so, so difficult.
The hardness of the wall doesn’t feel cold anymore. You feel lighter—lightheaded. Teetering on the brink of nothingness, on the lack of life.
“I don’t fuckin’ want someone else.” His voice is wavering, and his eyes are unfocused. Or maybe that’s just you slipping in and out of consciousness. “So stay. Awake.” Ghost—Simon—steels his voice, jaw clenching, and you can’t help but cough a chuckle. He still orders you around, even when you're half a foot in the grave. Some things never change.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed. “Orders—“ you wheeze a breath, brows pinching together in pain, “orders denied.” Though not for lack of trying. 
You can’t feel your legs anymore. This is it, you think, and you will the last portion of your energy to lift a hand to his masked face. “Tell the team… tell the team m’sorry.” You want to kiss him goodbye. You want to feel the rough texture of his stubble against your skin. “M’sorry, Simon.” Your voice is choked with emotions. You only call him by his name when you’re teasing him, when you’re testing his limits. When he silently knocks on your door after midnight and you welcome him inside with a purr his name. Better times, you think as the thumping of your racing heart gets louder in your ears. 
You don’t want to die.
You don’t want to leave him alone. 
Your palm leaves a bloodied trail down the white of his mask as your hand falls. 
“Listen to me,” he all but hisses, cradling your face in his hands in an attempt to keep you from slumping over. “Don’t fuckin’ do this to me. Don’t—” His thumbs clumsily dig into your cheeks as you wheeze another breath, doing your best to keep your attention on him.
Whatever he’s saying is drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears, by your own heart. Had you the strength, you would tell him his mask was muffling him, coax him to lift it enough to kiss you. 
He always had a hard time saying no to you. 
Your surroundings blur, the area around you slowly being overtaken by a creeping shadow. You feel him gently nudging your face in an attempt to lure your attention back to him, the roughness of his voice echoing in one ear, falling out the other. His tactical gear easily blends into this unfamiliar shadow, and soon, the only thing you can make out is the paleness of the bloodied mask. 
He just needs you to stay awake a little longer.
He’d contacted the team as soon as he’d found you, contacting base soon after. He can’t lose you, not like this, not when he finally found you. Somewhere in his heart, he can’t help but think of this as some sort of divine punishment. Cruelly taking you away from him the moment he started caring for you more than he should—more than he is allowed to. 
The moment he prolonged his stays in your bed to bask in your company. When he sought you out on his own accord without guising it under sex and stringless fun. 
His hand cups your cheek as his thumb wipes away a spot of blood, desperately attempting to catch your gaze despite your lack of response. "I love you," his tone is soothing, mellow. "Don't leave me like this," he says, pleading for you to hear his words. Simon is not a begging man, but for you he will crawl on his knees. He will pray to every God imaginable, and take any devil's deal. "Stay awake a little longer." He drops his words to a hoarse whisper as he continues, "That’s an order lieutenant.”
You feel a spike of pain in your heart, and then, nothing.
That’s funny, you think in an attempt to cling to coherency, it sounded like he said he loved me. And the thought makes you want to smile. Your heart is pulling tricks on you even in your final moments. 
Maybe in the next life.
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 6 months
Text
Practice On Me — Part Five — Azriel x Reader
Note: I feel like this part isn’t that great but as you may have seen, I had a family emergency and I got kind of distracted whilst trying to finish it. It was going to be even longer with even more drama, but I wanted to get an update out today and I wouldn’t have finished it in time, so I’ve cut it short (on a cliffhanger, of course), and the next part will be out quicker as it’s already mostly written. You can look forward to more drama 😏 I hope you enjoy this part all the same! Also, I try to tag everyone who asks, but it won’t let me tag some of you, so please check your settings to make sure your blog is able to be tagged/searched for!
Summary: Reader is trying to carry on as normal, but a trip to a rival camp has tensions rising once more, and jealous Azriel makes a return. Trouble seems to follow our poor girl everywhere…
Word Count: 6.1k.
Warnings: A bit of violence.
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This is all wrong.
The beautiful female hovers over Azriel, her lips slanting over his. Her mouth is commanding, entirely in control.
She smiles against him like she knows it.
She grabs Azriel’s hands, plants them on her waist. And she whispers in a voice that is so seductive, it almost seems impossible, “Touch me.”
So Az touches her. And it’s all wrong.
He can’t exactly place why it’s wrong. Just that there’s a panic unfurling inside of him that this is all happening too fast—
No, not too fast. It’s not that.
It’s who hovers over him that’s the problem. The realisation is nearly suffocating. Something has changed.
He doesn’t…doesn’t think he wants to be doing this here, right now, with Kaeda. It feels…off. He’s not comfortable, not at ease, like he’s always been with—
The door bursts open, and it’s a relief when Kaeda tears her mouth away from his.
The relief instantaneously disappears as he turns his head, drinks in who stands at the threshold. His stomach lurches.
Y/N looks as if she’s about to keel over on the spot. She trembles so violently that she can’t seem to keep her body still. Her tunic and breeches and shoes are sodden, as though she traipsed all the way here, through the snow, with nothing shielding her from the cold. Her hair sticks to her face, and there’s blood — blood streaking down her chin.
Azriel goes cold. Something has happened.
But Y/N seems oblivious to the blood as she stares, wide-and-watery-eyed, between Azriel and Kaeda.
And Az thinks…fuck. Fuck, fuck, a thousand times, fuck.
His head is reeling, roaring.
And then Kaeda says, “The shop hand from the forge,” and Azriel doesn’t like her tone; like being a shop hand is something shameful. She adds, “What happened to your face?”
Az is wondering the same fucking thing. It’s then that be remembers how to move, and he’s wrenching up and scooting out from beneath Kaeda, and his voice is quiet, soft, as he murmurs, “Y/N…”
He wants to go to her, fuss over her, but she’s gripping the door handle and shaking her head in a way that stops him from doing so.
“Sorry for interrupting.” She chokes out. In a flash, the door is yanked shut, and she’s gone.
All Azriel can think is no. Something prickles at his skin. He forgets there’s someone else in the room with him.
“Do you know her?” Kaeda’s voice jolts him.
“She’s my—friend.” The word sounds strange in his voice, tastes funny on his tongue. It tastes…sour.
“You think she got into a fight, or something?”
“No, that’s not—” He stops himself from revealing too much. Presses his back into the pillows. “No. I’m not sure what happened, but…no.”
Kaeda seems to think on that for a mere second or two. And then she shrugs. “How strange.”
Before Azriel can reply, she’s climbing into his lap, legs either side of his. She grabs his hands, planting them on her hips. Her soft hair tickles his cheek as she leans down, and she smells pleasant. Sweet and powdery.
“Where were we?” She murmurs, and then she kisses him again.
There is no excitement in this. There should be something thrilling about the way her lips attack his hungrily, and the way she’s stroking her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, and the way she rocks on top of him. Az may lack experience, but he doesn’t lack knowledge, basic common sense.
His cock should be hardening in his breeches by now. But all he feels is…panic.
He’s too concerned about Y/N to focus.
He rips his mouth away, panting, “I can’t.”
Kaeda blinks down at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry, I just — I need to find Y/N. I need to check she’s alright.”
The female studies him, reading his face.
And then her expression softens. She nods. “Of course, Azriel. I’m sorry. You should go find her.”
Kaeda is nice — he’s thought so since the moment he met her, when she took a late night trip to one of the training rings a good few months ago, and Az had had the same idea. She’s one of those personable people who can get along with anyone — who could coax conversation out of a lump of snow. People light up around her, and they laugh, and she makes everyone she talks to feel special.
So of course she has no problem with Az skipping out on her. It thaws his heart a little. The panic is still there, though.
“I’m sorry.” He stands from the bed, a twinge of guilt biting at him for just…leaving her here. “I’ll check on her and make sure she’s okay. I’ll come back after.”
Kaeda smiles at him brilliantly. “Go on. She needs you.”
He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. Later on, he might regret how quickly he darts from the room, as if it’s on fire. But right now, all he thinks of is Y/N.
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You end up at the cottage. You’re not sure why. Nor how — you have no recollection of the walk there.
The pain of an aching heart blocks out the cold, at least.
You need…you don’t know what you need.
It feels as though you’re standing still as the world moves too fast around you.
You numbly walk through the front door, forgetting to kick the snow from your shoes. And you stop at the sight of Cassian in the kitchen, stood alone at the counter, his back to you. Your mind can’t register that he’s here, when you expected him to be at the centre of the Solstice festivities, drinking the night away and finding someone to fall into bed with by the end of it.
He turns, unperturbed by your abrupt arrival. “Sandwich break.” He chirps, and then his eyes land on you. The sandwich slips from his hands. “What the fuck?”
You open and close your mouth, not even sure what might come out. There’s a disconnect somewhere. Nothing’s working right.
You just hope it isn’t Azriel’s name that slips past your lips. You don’t want to have to explain your complicated feelings where he’s concerned.
“My father.” You eventually rasp. “He…”
You don’t need to finish the sentence. Cassian knows. He always knows.
He comes striding over to you and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. And you feel a little deceitful that the tears that immediately begin to fall have nothing to do with what went down with your father. But what’s one more negative emotion to add to the growing pile? You sink into the embrace, accept it greedily. Cassian’s hugs will one day feature in legendary tales, you’re sure.
“I told Az I had a bad feeling about tonight.” He says, pulling back to study you. A rare fury flames his gaze, turning him instantly into the feared opponent that so many other males simply refuse to fight. He clenches his jaw, features harsh for once. “Gods, I just want to go straight to your father’s house and—”
“No.” You quickly cut him off. “Not tonight. Please. I can’t take any more tonight.”
Cass can be stubborn and driven by emotion and he’s damn well attracted to fights like a moth to a flame. But he’s also a fiercely loyal friend who will listen to what you need and act accordingly.
Which is why he gently takes your face in his huge, warm hands, inspects your split lip, and says, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
You could kiss him for that, alone.
Maybe you should.
No, you’re not thinking straight.
You don’t want to think at all, as you allow yourself to be seated on the couch, and Cass begins rummaging for whatever scant medical supplies Rhysand’s mother keeps in the cottage. Years under your father’s thumb means that you’ve got the art of emptying your mind to an almost frightening level of perfection. Perhaps an unhealthy coping mechanism, but a necessary one. You force your head to go quiet, to empty.
But then Cassian is perching himself in front of you, a gentle smile on his face.
“I’m totally making this up as I go along.” He admits. “I’ll make it as painless as I can.”
A bizarre thought strikes you that you actually want this to hurt.
You’re not sure what to make of that one.
Luckily for you, you can’t exactly provide much conversation with Cass cleaning the wound on your lip. It’s nice not to have to think beyond the vague hums you give in response to his occasional comments.
But before long, he’s rubbing a salve into the cut — and apologising as you hiss at the sting — and then he tells you, “All done. The bleeding has stopped.”
Your attempt at a smile is more of a grimace. “Thank you.”
The silence in the room is odd. Pressing. Even in the most testing of times, Cassian is known for trying to inject some humour into the situation — he’s a master at easing tension. But he stares at you in a way that strips you bare.
And then he asks, “What happened tonight?”
You frown at the question, not entirely sure how to answer. You know he’s asking in regard to the wound, wanting to know exactly how you got it, but your thoughts are aimed — uncontrollably — in a singular direction, and if you open your mouth, you’re not at all sure that Azriel’s name won’t just roll off your tongue.
“Y/N?” Cassian presses.
“I…” You swallow. It’s a good start. “I think I might be homeless.”
Not exactly an answer. But it seems that’s enough for Cass.
He shifts his position so that he’s able to fold you into his side. He guides your head to his chest, pressing a kiss to your hair.
“No, you’re not. You have this place.” He murmurs. “You’ll always have this place. Or you could move into my room at the dormitories, if you’d like. I’ll even clean it for you.”
That drags a weak, rasping laugh from the depths of your aching chest. “You really are a catch, Cass.”
“Oh, I know. But I’ll clean my room for no other female but you.”
Would that change, you wonder, if he met Kaeda, saw how beautiful she was? He may not have had the pleasure of an introduction yet, but you’re sure that Azriel must have shared at least some information with him and Rhys. They probably know more than you do.
Your curiosity piques, and before you can stop yourself, you’re speaking. “Cass?”
“Yes, sweetpea?”
You should totally backtrack, blurt out something pointless and irrelevant—
“What do you know of Kaeda?”
Or maybe not.
There’s a short pause as Cass seems to mull the question over, his fingers beginning to absentmindedly rake through your hair.
“Not much.” He eventually admits. “Her family aren’t from this camp. Her father is Lord of Camp Fenlaros. I think they’re a wealthy family, highly respected. I don’t know any more than that.”
Which explains why you’d never seen her until the day she’d walked into the forge. You’d certainly remember meeting her before. The Fenlaros Camp sits at the other side of Illyria — the furthest one from Windhaven.
“You don’t need to worry, though.” Cass then says, and you stiffen, wondering if your silence has somehow exposed you. “Az has a good head on his shoulders. He knows what he’s doing.”
Yes, you want to say, because I fucking taught him.
But before you can muster a reasonable response, the door is bursting open.
Azriel strides in, damp hair sticking to cold-bitten cheeks and his chest heaving. His eyes drink in yours and Cassian’s current position, before zeroing in on your face.
“I’ve been looking for you.” He pants.
You stare back at him, and you hate that you feel…angry. You have no right to feel that way. What has Az done, besides what he always intended to do? Exploring your affections was only ever supposed to be a practice run. If he feels ready for the real thing, you should be excited for him.
But quite simply, you’re not.
“Why?” The word comes out too brusque, too harsh. You correct yourself, clearing your throat. “I mean—what for?”
A pause. “I was worried.”
“I got her all cleaned up.” Cass jumps to his feet, gathering the healing supplies in his hands. “It’s not as bad as it looks, thankfully.”
Azriel’s eyes don’t leave your face. “Your father?”
You lower your eyes to your hands, your fingernails of sudden interest to you. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
And you don’t. But as the words leave your mouth, you know you’re not referring to your father’s behaviour. And you think that somehow, Az knows, too.
He stares at you in silence, still breathing a little heavily. And as that silence becomes thick, almost uncomfortable, Cass catches on to it.
He pauses his movements in the kitchen, staring between you and Azriel. It becomes suddenly clear to him that there’s an elephant in the room, and both of you are refusing to glance at it.
You really, really don’t want him to leave you alone with Az right now. You need time to gather your thoughts and feelings and know what you’re not going to say—
“…Anyway…” He clears his throat loudly. “I’m going to head back to the dormitories while the night is still young.” He swivels towards you. “Do you need anything else?”
“I’ve got her.” Az answers before you can. “We’ll be fine here. Go have fun, Cass.”
And, well, Cassian doesn’t need telling twice. So typically of him, he finally scoops his dropped sandwich off the kitchen floor, blows on it, and eats half of it in one bite.
“Happy Solstice, fuckers.” He says around a mouthful of bread. “Come back to the party when you’re finished here.”
You have no plans of doing that. All you want is to climb into bed and cry. But you know there’s no getting out of whatever is about to follow.
“Thanks, Cass.” You murmur quietly, forcing a weak smile.
“Anything for you, sweetpea.”
With the remainder of his sandwich still in hand, his tall frame ducks out of the cottage. The closing of the door is a death knell.
Az stares at you. And then he’s rounding the couch, stopping just inches away.
For the first time in nine years, you’re not sure you can face him. There’s an oily feeling of…of humiliation, that coats you, and it may just worsen if you make eye contact.
“Are you alright?” He breaks the silence, his voice solemn, grave.
You nod. Twist your hands around each other just to give them something to do.  “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t mean it like that. But your lip—”
“Cassian saw to it, Az.” Finally, you force yourself to make eye contact. And for his sake — or yours — or whatever — you push your mouth into a watery smile. It hurts your lip and it hurts your heart. “It’s really not that bad.”
There’s a momentary pause. Perhaps he’s not expecting you to be so calm in the wake of such an awful day. Little does he know, it’s all a front. Self-preservation.
You almost — almost — flinch, when he steps closer and perches himself on the coffee table in front of you.
“I should have been there.” He presses his lips into a thin line as he studies the wound up close. “I’m sorry.”
You don’t want to talk about this. You can’t talk about this. You may just die if you do. You just…need the night to end. To go away.
And just as Azriel reaches out to brush a finger over your hurt lip, you’ve decided you’ve had quite enough.
You jump up way too quickly for it to be casual, clearing your throat. “Where is Kaeda?”
“…She’s still at the dorms…”
“You shouldn’t have skipped out on her like that, Azriel. It’s rude.”
“I explained to her that you needed me. She understood—”
You whirl around to face him. You dread to think what he might have told her. “Go back to her, Az.”
Does he know you’re begging him, not telling him? You’re not sure.
He studies you like…like he doesn’t understand your demeanour. And then he says, “I will when I’m done here.”
A brusque laugh leaves you. “There’s nothing to be done here. Cassian already helped.”
You see the words hit him. Part of you feels like a wretch for throwing it in his face. He’s done nothing wrong. He owes you nothing.
This is on you for letting your feelings get out of hand. Your eyes shutter, and you draw in a slow, steeling breath.
“I’m very tired, and I just want to go to bed.” You explain quietly. “And I appreciate that you interrupted your night to come and check on me, I do, but there’s nothing that can be done for me. I just…need to sleep.”
Az stares at you again. Swallows. “Then I’ll stay until you fall asleep—”
“Az. Don’t keep Kaeda waiting.”
You can see how torn he is. You almost feel bad. He wants to do right by everyone.
But he can’t do right by you. Not tonight. It’s too late for that.
And maybe that realisation dawns on him, because finally, he pushes to his feet.
“You know where to find me if you need anything.”
You won’t. But you nod, all the same. “Yes.”
“Lock the door.”
“I will.”
He strides to the door. Pauses with his fingers on the handle, like he wants to say something else.
But then he leaves.
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The cold hurts so good. Every inhale burns your lungs. Your eyes water against the brisk air.
Pushing yourself hard like this, working against the elements, is precisely what you need. You’ve been up here every morning for the past week, putting your body through its paces before the sky has even lightened.
You’ve got avoiding Azriel as much as possible down to an art form, and when you’ve no choice but to face him, your act of breezing nonchalance, or normality, is so convincing that you almost fool yourself.
Almost.
It’s a routine, if not a strange one.
You pant heavily through the exertion, gazing up through the towering trees as you take a moment to catch your breath. It seems that the harder you push yourself, the more your muscles burn, the less your heart aches. The quiet and solitude has been a welcome companion in the days since—
Snow crunches under boots. You stiffen at the approaching footsteps.
If the males training below catch you doing your exercises up here again, they may do more than just chew you out.
But through the trees, Azriel’s unmistakable form emerges in a halo of early morning light. The nature around you seems to pause and bask in his presence, and you can’t blame it one bit.
Gods, he’s beautiful. Painfully so. Gut-wrenchingly so—
It’s for that reason that you snap your front into place; the one you’ve spent the past week perfecting. You will simply act as you always have — as you always did before that first night you offered Azriel your help — and maybe, hopefully, you’ll even start to believe it.
Maybe it will stop hurting.
“Thought I’d find you up here.” There’s an edge to his voice that makes you think he’s waiting to follow your lead. He smiles tentatively.
You smile widely and hope it’s convincing. “I’d much prefer having smoother terrain to work on, but beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.”
The rigidity of his shoulders ease. “How many times have you tripped over these rocks?”
“Oh, seven hundred, or so.”
He breathes a laugh, a little white cloud pluming in front of his face, and you do the same.
And it’s bad — it’s really bad — but your thoughts are immediately jumping to Kaeda and assuming her natural grace would hold its brilliance on smooth or rough terrain. There’d probably be no tripping, no falling.
You banish those images quickly.
Sometimes, you’re not sure whether you want to be her, or be in bed with her.
Azriel clears his throat, his face sobering. “Listen, I wanted to talk.”
Oh, gods.
Surely he’s not going to just…confront things, right here, right now, like a reasonable person. You’re not even slightly prepared for that. You claw at your mind in panic, searching for some way out of this besides tucking and rolling down the hill away from him—
“I have an invitation.” He says, and you pause. “Well — Kaeda does.”
Bizarre, that the first thought that hits you is a bleating, please don’t ask me to have a threesome.
You drag your mind straight back out of the gutter and will your face into neutrality. “Oh?”
“…Yeah…” Az rubs the back of his neck. “I know the two of you haven’t been properly introduced, but she’s throwing a party back in her home camp — Fenlaros — and she invited me and said I should bring some friends.”
For a moment or two, you simply don’t know what to say. Going into a rival camp is usually best avoided, given that Illyrian males will look for any excuse for a fight. You don’t know much, admittedly, about the Fenlaros Camp, but Illyrians are Illyrians, and that’s just a fact.
But it makes you question, for the first time, a thought that hadn’t so far occurred to you — why has Kaeda been hanging around Windhaven? You don’t even know the story of when she came here, or for what reason.
And that’s on you, you suppose, for wanting to know as little as possible.
“She doesn’t really know anyone here in Windhaven, besides me.” Az continues. “So she told me to bring you, Rhys and Cass along. I think she’s eager to get to know you.”
You’re silent as a thousand thoughts filter through your mind, one by one. So many things you suddenly want to ask, and yet what comes out is merely, “Fenlaros?”
Az nods. He seems to be studying your reaction closely.
“Is that a good idea? We’re not supposed to breach rival camps without express permission.”
“We have permission. Kaeda’s father is Lord of Fenlaros, and the party will be held at her dwellings. She tells me they’re a tad more civilised there than they are here.”
Hard to believe, of Illyrians. But who are you to talk? You’ve never ventured to another camp like she so boldly has.
You can’t exactly explain your hesitation, besides the obvious — subjecting yourself to being in the company of both Azriel and Kaeda seems unnecessarily cruel. But something else about it also just feels…odd. Just strolling into another camp as though that’s a done thing.
To Kaeda, you suppose it is.
“Look, you don’t have to come.” Az says, reading the caution on your face. “Rhys and Cass are eager — it’s our last chance to enjoy ourselves before training gets intense again. But I wouldn’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with—”
“I’ll come.” You blurt. “Of course, I’ll come.”
Even Az looks a little surprised. He studies you, giving you a moment to retract. And then he smiles. “Alright. Great.”
Maybe going to a party with your friends is exactly what you need — doing something normal, something you would have done without thought before you created this mess for yourself.
Perhaps the key to getting past this is to just…pretend it doesn’t hurt, until it no longer does.
And perhaps getting to know Kaeda, making a friend of her, will even help.
“Listen, I need to get back.” Az tells you, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ll discuss the details later.”
Before you can reply, he’s reaching out and pulling you into a tight hug. His scent envelopes you, soothes and pains you in equal measure. You close your eyes against his chest and find yourself hoping — really hoping — that this ache will go away soon. Azriel’s embraces have always been a place of solace. You don’t want that to have changed.
Just as quickly, he pulls away, dropping a kiss onto your forehead. “I’m really glad you’re coming, Y/N.” He says. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
You’re vaguely aware of the non-committal response you give him. Your mind is suddenly screaming at you.
And as he turns and walks away, you can’t help wondering what the fuck you’ve just got yourself into.
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It’s high up in the skies, two nights later, that the true regret begins to seep in.
Not just because the idea of this party makes anxiety coil tightly in your gut, like something in the air whispers to you that tonight will be a total shit show.
It’s the humiliation that hits you on the way there. An itchy kind of humiliation that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel for a very, very long time.
Not far in front of you, Cassian flies freely, the wind stirring his hair. He always wears the same expression while flying, one that’s a combination of elation, freedom and pride.
A small distance ahead of him, Azriel, too, is the picture of soaring grace. And at his side, Kaeda is the same. Her brilliant hair is like a streak of crimson blood that’s been smeared on the night landscape.
And you — you have to be carried by Rhysand. Like a youngling.
You stopped pitying yourself a long time ago for what your father did to you, the way he stole your ability to fly before you ever really had the chance. It was one of those things you had to come to terms with, because you’d never be able to change it.
That old feeling is returning with a vengeance, now, eating you up from the inside. Seeing Az be able to fly alongside a female, something you’d never be able to do—
“I’ve never been to the Fenlaros Camp.” Rhys speaks into your ear, ripping you out of your thoughts. From the way his fingers rub soothing circles into your hip, you know he didn’t miss your bleak expression.
You fix your gaze on the sprawling landscape below. Noises are drifting up to you, becoming louder. You must be close.
“Az says there’s nothing to be worried about.” You answer quietly. “But do you really think all will be well? It doesn’t take much for the three of you to find trouble when there’s alcohol in your system. If you land yourself in deep shit, you’ll be punished.”
His violet eyes sparkle with mischief. “I’m the High Lord’s son — their future High Lord. Everyone is too scared shitless to punish me.”
That’s not entirely true, and he knows it. You shoot him an unamused glance. “Rhys—”
“Hey.” He cuts you off, squeezing your waist. “Look.”
Your eyes fall below, and you pause — blink.
War camp is not the correct term to describe what you’re descending towards.
Windhaven is a war camp. Windhaven is brutal, and cruel, and — quite frankly — unpleasant. You can spend a lifetime there and never feel at home amongst the crumbling, sparse buildings and watchful eyes.
Fenlaros is a small town.
You glimpse barracks and training rings, an armoury and a common hall — all things that Windhaven has. But Windhaven doesn’t have the pristine, secure buildings, looking as new as if they were built yesterday. Warm glows emanate from the inside out, and it feels almost ludicrous to consider that this is a place built to train for war. It just looks like…like a place someone could call home.
You’re close enough to pick up the sounds of music and laughter — all sounds of a place that’s lively despite the late hour. It’s Kaeda’s lead that your three friends follow, and it doesn’t surprise you one bit when she begins a smooth incline to what looked, from above, to be the largest, grandest building in the place.
Suitable dwellings for a Lord and his family, indeed.
Rhys is the last to touch the ground outside of the building. As he sets you down, Cassian lets out an approving whistle.
“This certainly beats the dormitories.” He says, and Kaeda grins.
“Welcome to Fenlaros.” Is all she answers.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
Nothing is ever as bad when the alcohol begins to flow. You even start to vaguely feel like…like you might actually enjoy yourself. The house is so big, filled to the brim with so many people, that you’ve only seen Azriel and Kaeda a couple of times in passing.
This sets off a tiny little battle in your innermost thoughts. Part of you wants to know what they’re up to. The other part of you really fucking doesn’t.
But so far, the people of the Fenlaros Camp are pleasant enough that you’re plied consistently with conversation, too occupied to wonder what might or might not be happening elsewhere in the building. You may just survive this party yet.
You’re just taking a moment to grab yourself another drink when you feel a touch on your shoulder. You turn, and you almost start at the sight of Kaeda smiling at you.
Gods, she really is beautiful.
“I feel like I haven’t had a chance to speak with you properly.” She says, and she’s right. There were very brief official introductions when she arrived to guide you all to Fenlaros, but so far, there’s been no one-on-one.
A fact of which you don’t know whether you’re relieved or disappointed.
“This place is…not like Windhaven.” You breathe a laugh. “Thank you — again — for the invite.”
“Of course. Azriel and I have been getting to know each other for a few months now. That’s all it is so far, and I don’t know where it might go, but I’d like to know his friends as well.”
Enough alcohol has settled into your system that the mention of Az’s name only gives a small twinge. You grin back at Kaeda. “It’s a relief to have another female around.”
“Gods, I’ll bet.” Her laugh is so, so brilliant. Like trickling water or birdsong or something. “Has it really been just the four of you all this time?”
“Pretty much. Since we were nine. A few odd love interests have come and gone, but nothing ever lasted.”
“Well.” She smiles. “Perhaps my arrival in Windhaven was a blessing in disguise.”
“I meant to ask, actually, what brought you there in the first place—”
“Don’t look now, but I think you may have bagged yourself an admirer.”
You pause at the interruption, your thoughts slow to catch up. And then you’re following Kaeda’s gaze to a group of boisterous males. One of whom is eyeing you with an intense hunger. As your eyes meet, one side of his mouth tips up into a smirk.
“That’s Thedis.” Kaeda tells you. “I’ve known him since we were younglings. He’s a good male.”
The way he’s drinking you in makes you not really care, in that moment, whether he’s a good male or a fucking terrible one.
“Listen, I’m going to go find Az.” Kaeda tells you, and her eyes glitter. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
You give each other your names, and it’s all heavy petting from there.
Thedis doesn’t provide much in the way of conversation, but then that doesn’t matter when the music is loud, and the packed room is dancing, and he’s grinding against you.
He spins you in his arms, hands palming at your hips. You lean into the touch, knowing that his eyes are all over every one of your movements. He’s desperate for you. You have him eating out of the palm of your hand.
But it’s a different pair of hazel eyes that find yours from not far away. A more peculiar pair that you know so well.
Azriel dances nearby, Kaeda moving against him in a similar manner. But he stares at you. Intensely stares at you. The way his eyes rove over your outfit makes you feel like you’re actually wearing something worth marvelling over, and you didn’t just have to make do with what clothing you keep at Rhysand’s mother’s cottage.
The velvet top is pretty, though. Cinched at the waist and accentuating the curves of your breasts. You’re not certain if Thedis has stared at your face or your cleavage more.
But does it really matter, when you’re both aiming for the same, mindless goal, only desiring one thing from each other?
He surely doesn’t seem to think so as his hands explore your body. Azriel watches the entire thing with an unreadable expression.
You rip your gaze away, force it elsewhere. The room is so full that the air is stuffy, and your head spins a little. Against the far wall, a male has his tongue down Rhysand’s throat. They’re touching each other so desperately that it wouldn’t surprise you if they whipped their clothes off and began fucking there and then. The male would wear it as a badge of honour that he’d been with the future High Lord. Amongst the dancing bodies, Cassian is getting a similar treatment from a pretty, blonde female.
One song morphs into the next, and this one is faster, more frenetic. It spurs the couples around you on, and a sensual charge fills the space as if the damn lute players are strumming an aphrodisiac straight into the room.
Thedis slides his hands down to your ass, and he squeezes, lowering his head to brush his lips against yours.
“Let’s find somewhere more private.” He breathes onto your mouth. And he adds, without filter, “I want to fuck you.”
You tilt your head up, aiming to make contact with his lips.
The kiss never lands.
Everything happens too fast to register. But suddenly, Thedis is on the floor, and Azriel is on top of him, and the shadowsinger’s fist goes flying into his face.
Complete chaos erupts from there. Some people are darting out of the way, while others form a circle around the two males on the ground. The music stops, replaced by loud jeering and whoops of excitement. Azriel delivers a second punch, and Thedis returns it with one of his own, and then they’re rolling on the floor and you don’t know what to do.
“Azriel, what the fuck?” There’s no way he hears you above all the noise. You look around for Rhys, Cass, Kaeda, fucking anyone, but they all must be lost in the fray, the pushing and shoving.
You swear loudly, and you’re jostled this way and that as you push through people and try to reach the fight. You’re shoved forward just in time to see Azriel’s shadows snake around Thedis’s throat and squeeze—
“Azriel!” You snap. You try to grab the back of his shirt, but someone is grabbing the back of yours, trying to stop you from stopping him. You round on the Fenlaros male, shoving him away from you. “Do not touch me.”
And fuck, that’s the worst thing you could have done.
It doesn’t take much for Illyrians to start a fight. Male, female, it doesn’t matter — they’re a violent people, and as soon as you hit them with a punch or a shove, they’re accepting it as a provocation.
Which would be bad enough in Windhaven, where you’ve seen things get out of hand time and time again.
But you’re not in Windhaven. These aren’t your people. You’re in Fenlaros. And there’s now two members of Windhaven going up against two members of Fenlaros.
They take it as an affront from a rival camp.
And all hell breaks loose.
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azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown
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arqhon · 1 month
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You should do sub choso with the reader overstimulating him🏃🏃
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— CW/TW: MDNI, sub!choso, overstimulation, dacryphillia if you squint, biting + tiny mention of blood, dumbification, switch!choso
SUB!CHOSO <33 kinda got carried away with this ask and added a bit of switch!choso as well !! ty for requesting, anon !! enjoy the read xx
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sub!choso who’s embarrassed about cumming too much too quickly. he tries his hardest to stop himself from cumming, but you’re bouncing on his cock so good that he can’t. he’s lost count of how many times you’ve made him cum. he’s overwhelmed, sensitive like you wouldn’t believe. he can barely think, his cock throbs and aches as you ride him relentlessly.
you whisper sweet praises in his ear, out of breath from overstimulating yourself, but you love the way he looks underneath you so you don’t stop. exhausted, needy, it’s adorable how desperate he is. he begs and cries, pleads for you to stop or slow down but deep down he doesn’t want you to. he loves it. 
he bites the back of his hand to try and control himself, but he bites too hard that his teeth draw blood. “fuck, puh-please, not too fast- i can’t! ngh-” he whimpers breathlessly, going dumb from how good you’re making him feel.
he looks up at you through hooded eyes, his mind fuzzy. he mumbles incoherently, begging for you to stop, telling you that he’s too tired and that he can’t take it anymore even though his cock is still hard and leaking, flooding your insides with his cum almost continuously. 
you don’t listen to him. instead you ride him faster, rising up until his aching tip is the only thing inside you then slamming your hips back down to fuck yourself nice and good on his cock. he lets out a choked sob, keeling forward with your every bounce. 
“please, please, please-” he doesn’t know what he’s begging for.
he stretches you out so good. his cock heavy and pulsing inside you, ready to fill you up again despite choso’s claims that he can’t anymore. 
“baby, please i- ah! you’re ridin’ me too good, m’gonna…gonna cum again.” he whines deliriously, feeling as if he’ll pass out at any moment.
he begs for you to slow down, but you don’t listen. his desperation is replaced with frustration and in a moment of anger he grabs at your hips, fingers digging into you as he begins to fuck you back. he fucks up into you mercilessly, using his grip on your waist to lift you up and slam you back down on his cock, matching the brutish pace that he sets. it catches you off guard, knocking the breath out of you as he holds you steady and fucks you hard and proper. he groans, feeling himself get more and more sensitive, but he’s close, so close, and he doesn’t want to stop.
he bites into your shoulder to quieten his whines, a desperate attempt to restrain himself as best as he can. his vision is blurry, body aching, focused only on chasing after his orgasm, hoping to fuck you good enough to make you stop. he starts to feel you convulse in his arms and he holds you tighter, fucking you harder.
“feels- ah- good, huh?” he manages too chuckle “gonna cum with me, baby?” he breathes against your neck “want you to cum with me. know it’ll feel so good.”
you tighten around him and that’s all the indication he needs to flip you over and fold you into a mating press, pressing down on your thighs to fuck you deeper. 
“that’s it- ah- fuck! just like that, baby.” he fucks you through your orgasm, bullying your cunt until you stop shaking underneath him. 
you look spent, barely able to keep your eyes open and he chuckles breathlessly, trying to catch his breath. “can’t think, huh?” he laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead “m-me too.” he pulls out slowly, cock twitching at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. he filled you up good - he can’t help but feel a little proud of himself.
he lets himself fall to the space next to you, chest heaving as he runs a hand through his hair. he feels you curl up into his side and he puts his arm around you reflexively. little tremors shoot through him, his body trembling and his muscles aching. he can feel how fast your heart is beating against him, and he cards his fingers through your hair, helping you calm down. he smiles dumbly at you, his mind still not really there.
“overstimmed yourself too, huh?” he chuckles, and you hit his chest playfully. “you’re fucking crazy, y’know that?” he teases “i fucking love it.”
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reblogs and feedback are appreciated !! <33
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That smut you wrote for Donnie was so good OMFG do you think you could write something for 2007 Leo (if you write for them IDK if you do) where Reader is giving him a blowjob? 👉👈 
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Mouthful | Leonardo
i definitely write for 2007! in fact, please send me more 2007 asks, i'm actually kind of obsessed at the moment because i rewatched it the other day and this ask kind of got me out of a writing slump, so thank you very much anon. also, i took 'blowjob' and made it more face-fucking because i felt like it... hope you don't mind! enjoy!
warnings: NSFW (not proofread, read at your own risk), slight choking? face-fucking, bruises, degradation etc. it's just a bit filthy guys. mentions of pussy for reader, awful title but i was blanking so bad so don't judge. everyone is 18+!!
summary: leonardo is a mouthful
word count: 887, pretty short
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Your knees are aching, you can feel the bruises already blossoming like petals blooming, but you don’t dare move, not even to reposition yourself as Leo fucks your face harder. He’s not being gentle or loving tonight, not after you spent the entire evening teasing him, and you can’t help the way it makes your stomach clench and your pussy leak.
You groan drunkenly around his cock as he pumps it over and over into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease, then fucking down beyond. It's not possible, you know it isn't, but it feels a bit like he's fucking deep enough to puncture your lungs and the thought only makes you wetter. A whine that sounds more like a breathless wheeze escapes you as his hand wraps around your neck and he pistons his hips rougher and somehow even deeper.
Vision blurry with both pleasure and ecstasy, you moan something; it might be his name or a wordless plea, you’re not quite sure, but it makes Leo growl darkly as he tangles his fingers in your hair and pushes you further down on his cock until your face is pressed harshly against his plastron and his sweat drips onto your skin. It’s filthy and not particularly comfortable, but you’re too far gone to care. You’d take anything he’d give you with a smile and a thank you, although your smile might be drunk and your words might be nothing more than slurs at this point.
“Please, Leo,” you say as best you can around his cock, heavy and thick and taking up all the space in your throat. "L-Leonardo." It’s the biggest you’ve ever taken or ever will take, bordering on too big, but that just makes you need it more. It’s so perfect, you think dazedly. You might whimper it out loud, too, judging from Leo’s tightening grip that burns your scalp. You feel dizzy, like you’re about to keel over even from where you’re kneeling.
“What was that?” He asks, face taut and jaw clenched as he holds himself back from pumping load after load before he’s through with you. “I couldn’t quite make it out.”
It's humiliating and tears are gathering on your lashes like diamonds, stinging and sharp, before rolling down your flushed cheeks. “Please,” you beg again and this time Leo barks a cruel laugh at how broken you sound, please sounding more like wheezing gibberish, the word unable to form from where he’s got his cock blocking your airway.
“You’re such a good slut,” he coos, hand squeezing tighter around your throat. He curses loudly as you whine in agreement, grasping firmly and feeling his length inside you. He can’t help himself as he fucks your face faster, using your mouth like a fuck toy, praise and degradation in equal measure pouring from his lips in tandem with the slap, slap, slap of your face against his keratin. “You’re so fucking good for me,” he snarls, hand still gripping your neck in a way you know will leave impossible to hide, three-fingered bruises. “So fucking dirty, such a perfect mouth for me to use.”
Your moan is loud even with his cock still deep within your throat and that’s what it takes for him to come undone. He doesn’t pull back, doesn’t grant you the slightest hint of reprieve as he spills thread after thread, filling you up until you feel like you're drowning. “Swallow it,” he gasps. “All of it.”
You try to do as you asks, desperate to please him even in such a pathetic state, and you almost manage. It’s impossible to swallow it all, and you cough as he pulls his softening cock out of your throat with an obscene squelch that ignites a modicum of embarrassment in the depths of your mind.
Leo, as smug as ever even as he pants like he's run a marathon, runs a finger across your mouth and down your chin with a self-satisfied smile, gathering what come you couldn’t keep down and pushing it back past your lips. “Come on,” he murmurs softly, and you let your mouth fall open, watching him with hazy eyes as you work instinctively to clean up every last drop he’s willing to give you.
He might be a conceited bastard, but he’s looking at you with so much love and affection, even after fucking your face with abandon, when you know you look like a drooling mess, and it turns your limbs to jelly. You sag against him and your breath catches as his smile turns soft and gooey and that hand still around your throat slackens into a reverent caress. “I love you.”
The moment doesn’t last long; his dark eyes darken further, traces of honeyed endearment melting as you try to speak. Your voice is wrecked. “I love you too,” you croak, and before you can blink you’re on your back and Leo’s there, strong and imperious above you, clouding your vision and blocking out everything but him.
You giggle deliriously as his teeth sink into the column of your throat, right over one of those already flowering bruises, and you make a mental note to call in sick tomorrow because there is absolutely no way you’ll be able to walk when Leo is finished with you.
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thelavenderflamingo · 6 months
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Night Shift
Fictional Interpretation/Short story of the Song Night Shift by Lucy Dacus.
Summary: Y/N goes through a horrific breakup with her now ex-girlfriend, Julien Baker. Instead of seeing Julien everyday at Y/N's 9 to 5, she decides to get a new job.
 I felt it in my bones that this was wrong. The spit of the man I was kissing was almost drowning me. Actually, it was. I pushed my tinder date harshly off my body and coughed into the floor. My date laid on one end of the couch where I had pushed, while I keeled over, coughing on the other side. “What the fuck? Are you okay?” His gruff voice only made me cough harder. “Julien I’m sorry” I regretted the name the moment it came out of my mouth, my head slowly whipping around in hopes the man would be replaced by a more comforting figure. He wasn’t. “Okay, you’re fucking crazy. I’ve got to go.” I quickly got up. “Hey I’m sorry. Julien- I mean Jacob please come back!” The door shut in my face. 
“I’m doing fine.” My hands rubbed against the soft fabric of my pants. “I’m just trying to derail my one track mind, you know how I get.” I looked up, trying to gather whether my therapist believed me. “You  know I’m regaining my self worth back in just record time.”  She let out a quick chuckle. “You’re not doing fine, Y/N. You choked when you kissed someone other than Ju-” “My ex.” “Do you see my point? You can’t even hear her name.” I was silent. “Have you spoken to Phoebe or Lucy?” I shook my head. “I almost reached out a couple of times, but it felt wrong. They belong to her. Not me.” My therapist nodded. “Have you been keeping up with what she's been up to?” I slowly nodded in sadness. “She comes back into town this weekend.” “Oh that's interesting! Will you see her?” “Oh no! Absolutely not!” She set her notebook down. “Well why not? You could gain a lot of closure by going to have coffee or something with her.” “She’s already moved on.” “Well this isn’t a get back together Y/N, It’s closure. Don’t entertain the thought.” “But I just can’t help but think of the other girl in the bed that was once mine every time I see her.” “Just try it.” 
I wondered if I was a masochist. That was my only thought as I stared at the brown eyes before me. The woman I once looked at as the sun now resembled a burnt out street lamp. She wore a backwards hat and slouched, like she always fucking did. Always trying to seem small in public so people wouldn’t realize she was Julien fucking Baker. In my head, I imagined myself punching her in her teeth. Her big ‘Dave Grohl’ smile, as Lucy once put it. I was so fucking angry. How dare she move on. She moved on in the four months of silence while I had been grieving the three years of love. “You’re a fucking bitch Julien!” My arms shoved her back so hard she slipped out of the metal chair. Her mop of beige hair flew into her face. “I fucking loved you! I never meant what I said in the breakup! I always assumed you’d come back! But you fucking moved on!” I kicked the table so violently the glass cups fell and shattered on the ground. Laying next to my broken heart. The glass crunched under my boots as I walked away. 
“Y/N. You okay?” My eyes blinked back into reality. “Hm?” “You went somewhere for a second.” “Oh yeah, I’m sorry about that.” “You know you never needed to apologize.” There was silence between us. The tension cut both of us off from talking. “I regret my part in the downfall of us, but you truly left me no choice, Y/N.” I felt sick. “I mean what was I supposed to do? Beg you to come back when I knew neither of us was happy? I certainly wasn’t happy.” Why did I come here? To sit and watch her stare at her fucking feet and absolve her guilt and just shake hands as if she didn't destroy me? I felt no need to forgive whatsoever. But as I looked into her eyes I figured I might as well. It would take time but I couldn’t live my life being angry at the woman I once adored. As I gazed at her I felt the urge to connect our lips. She looked at me with the same intensity she always had, eyes analyzing every part of my being. I need her lips on mine.  I just wanted to feel her one last time. No. I had to stop. I cleared my throat, shattering the moment. A crumpled up bill was in my pocket, I grabbed it and threw it on the table, paying for my part of coffee. “I gotta go Jay.” “Wait.” She grabbed my arm. “Say it again.” I turned around, confusion consuming my eyes. “Say what again?” “My name. It’s just been so long-” “I can't, I truly have to go, Julien.” My arm was ripped from hers as I quickly made my way towards the street. 
The sun was making its way down behind the tall buildings, the neon lights of Memphis slowly replacing it. I walked for hours on end. The last time I had checked my phone it was when I was waiting for Julien at 5 o’clock, checking my phone through blurry eyes, I saw that it was now 12 am. I sighed and turned the corner with all intentions of returning to my new, empty apartment, but when I rounded the brick wall I saw a small bar, nestled in between a Law office and a Record store. The bar looked cozy enough so I popped in through the red door. 
“Hey love, it’s four am, you have to leave.” The blond behind the bar spoke to me sweetly while trying to pull the vodka soda out of my hands. “Wait-no please. I need it.” “Here’s some water. Please sober up. You gotta leave here in the next 45 minutes.” I nodded sadly as I took the water out of her hands. I finished the water and my hands grew idle. My phone had sat neglected next to me, so I picked it up, tapping through stories. My eyes landed on what only could have been described as my worst nightmare. It was one of JUlien and I’s mutual friends' private stories. My eyes were glued to the image behind the two men posing. It was Julien, with the girl she had been seen with mere hours after I ended things. I grew angry and dialed the all too familiar number. The ringing stopped. “Hello?” The groggy voice that came through the line cut my heart.” “You know what Julien-” I was completely slurring my words. “Don’t hold your breath. I hope you forget you EVER saw me at my best. You know, you don't deserve what you don’t respect. You don’t deserve what you say you love and then you neglect.” “Avery I-” “Now bite your tongue! It’s way too dangerous to fall so young.” I took a well needed breath. “Take back what you said. You can’t lose what you never had.” I hung up just as the girl’s hand took my phone. “There will be no calling of exes.” “Whatever.” I sighed, slouching down. “Come on girl. Let's get you home.” 
I got over it the best I could over the next few weeks. I eventually ended up getting a job at the bar I had solemnly stumbled into. I was serving one of my regulars when he looked at me in my eyes. It wasn’t just a glance, but a look. It was almost like he could see my entire life in this look. “What are you doing here?” I laughed. “What do you mean?” “I mean this job obviously isnt you.” “Well that’s a bold statement.” “Im serious.” He grabbed my arm. “Tell me why you’re sad.” Looking at the him, I decided to give into it. “My ex, well we met at the recording company I was working at. I fell for her instantly, but after we broke up i couldn’t stand to be there anymore. She was there 9 to 5, so I just assumed it would be best if i took the night shift, somewhere else.” “You left your job because your ex recorded there?” “If i can help it, I’ll never see her again.” A slow love song that used to be ours started playing from the speaker. He waited for my commentary, “In five years I hope that all of these songs feel like covers, almost very distant, and I’ll dedicate them to new lovers.” 
The questions from my regular never stopped coming until we finally had to kick everyone out at closing. The floors were sticky with spilled alcohol, and my coworker had left me to close the bar by myself. I was mopping the floor when I heard it. The soft sound of Julien’s voice over the speaker consumed the entire building. I let the song devour me, dropping the mop and throwing my arms around myself as I swayed with the music. I was so consumedwith the sound around me I didn’t hear the soft sound of the door opening, but I did hear the steps of boots I had known so well. Instantly I whipped around and made eye contact with the person who broke me and engulfed me all at once. I took a breath. “Julien.”
Thank you for reading! This is my first work so pls be nice!!! Suggestions and critiques are welcome!!!
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wardenred · 6 months
Text
Angstober 4: "I want to believe you"
I was kind of going to keep using Angstober prompts for the exploration of that one plot bunny, but after writing some Tim/Leo fluff I had to rewind and write some angst for them, too. I was in a mood and craving emotional drama. Those boys do it well.
The club is called Discombobulation. A stupid name that perfectly matches Leo’s stupid feelings.
This was supposed to be a date. The thought swims in circles around his dizzy brain like a feral fish locked into a too small bowl. He tries to get rid of it, to focus on something else, anything: the oppressive weight of the crowd, the heavy beat of what the DJ mistakes for music, the prickling heat of liquor sliding down his throat.
He can’t.
Because this was supposed to be a date. Wasn’t it? Was it? He doesn’t really know the answer. Neither of them explicitly said so, but he thought. He hoped.
The hope made sense, didn’t it? Up until they came here, Tim had been acting like this was a date. Like he was happy to spend time with Leo. Sure, he chose this club without asking if Leo would prefer something else: a trip to the movies, a quiet walk around the city, maybe even just a night at home. But Tim loves clubbing, and that’s how they first met, and Leo sometimes enjoys it, too—he wouldn’t bother having a fake ID otherwise. He doesn’t mind it at all when he’s having a good night. When he feels confident and secure and knows that there’s someone by his side he can relax and lean on.
Not when he’s stuck by the bar watching Tim eye-fuck some other guy across the pool table, turning his back on Leo time and time again.
“Another?” the bartender asks, and Leo realizes the glass in front of him is empty. He can’t remember if it was his second one or his third. It feels like all the alcohol turned solid and rolled into a big slimy ball and that ball is now stuck in his airways.
He can’t trust his voice. He shakes his head, slides some cash toward the bartender—too much, probably, and he’ll yell at himself for it later, but he’s always got so many things to yell at himself for, what’s one more—and stumbles his way toward the exit. The most straightforward path lies through the dance floor. The crowd closes in on him. That must be what graves feel like, with all the weight of earth and maggots. He keeps his head low, elbows tucked in, his magic simmering within him—a spark threatening to ignite into a blaze. He stomps down on it as hard as he can. No one here deserves it.
Outside, a faint sheen of rain greets him. He draws a breath; the air is too thick, too damp, too slimy. A lot like that ball in his throat. Leo still tries, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right, when you’re on the verge of a panic attack? You’re supposed to breathe. One, two, three, four, hold, one, two, three, four, release.
His attempt only result in a coughing fit. He moves as far away from the club entrance as he manages, gets stuck in the middle of the parking lot. Keeled over, hands on his knees. Droplets of saliva and snot land on someone’s shiny expensive car. 
“Hey. You okay there?”
For a second, Leo doesn’t even recognize Tim’s voice through the low ringing in his ears. His mind is filled with all kinds of humiliating images involving strangers trying to help him and then realizing just how pathetic he is. A waste of their time. They should have just passed by without giving him a second glance.
Then a warm hand lands on his shoulder, and he knows. The images don’t subside, not right away. Still, he relaxes a little into the touch, despite the stupid scene in the club, despite everything.
“Do you need some water? Are you choking? Should I slap you on the back? Was there something in your drink that you’re allergic to?”
I’m fine, stop fussing, is what Leo should say. What he’s going to say.
Instead, when he opens his mouth, out comes a bitter, “Like you care.”
Tim’s fingers slide down his arm and he takes a step back, a sliver of damp, cold emptiness between them. Leo wipes at his face, once, twice. Rolls up his turtleneck’s stained sleeve before turning.
“Of course I care,” Tim says as soon as their eyes meet, and he already sounds defensive. A great start. They’ll be snipping and yelling at each other in no time. That’s how it always ends, or at least that’s how it ends half the time, which is half the time too often. Why do they even bother?
“I’m sorry,” he says, and Tim should be sorry, too, but he won’t be, will he? He never is. “I’m probably coming down with something. I’d better head home.”
Disappointment flashes in Tim’s eyes, but he nods. “Okay. My place or yours? And, um, I forgot my jacket.” He points his thumb toward his club. “Do you mind if I go grab it real quick?”
“You don’t have to go with me.” Why would Tim even offer? It makes no sense. “You’ve been clearly having fun. So go on. Have fun.”
Tim frowns. “I just stepped away to play one quick game.”
“Yeah,” Leo agrees. “That’s how it always starts.”
“I did ask you to play with me!”
“I don’t know how! And you told me you don’t like teaching people to play!”
“What? Fuck’s sake, Leo, it was months ago.”
“Well, sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to learn—”
“That’s not what I mean! I don’t mind teaching you!” 
A bird croaks and flaps its wings, spooked into the sky from the top of someone’s car. In the dark, Leo isn’t sure if it’s a rook or a crow. Either way, this reeks of a bad omen. 
Tim’s shoulders are hunched, fists pressed against his thick studded belt. “I don’t mind at all,” he says again. “I told you things are going to be different this time.”
Leo is beginning to feel like a bad guy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t lessen his the anger.
“I know. I want to believe you.”
“But you don’t.”
The best Leo can offer is a helpless shrug.
The sky stops spitting drizzle at them and barfs forth a proper rainstorm, complete with distant flashes of lightning.
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youkaiyume · 3 years
Text
Jesus my neighbor is such a dick. Its like almost noon and I was fxing/installing a shelf (not even IN the wall??) And of course there's some hammering and like while I'm doing that he starts pounding the walls like it was a competition? Like, I'm not even doing it at night when everyone is asleep and it lasted like 30 seconds JESUS steve when would you like me to do things and have a life, what a douche. And it’s not like I go around doing home renovations all the time this is literally the first time in like 2 years. I don't talk to YOU when you fucking smoke weed every night and I can smell it through the vents or whenever you berate and possibly beat your wife in the wee hours of the morning while I AM STILL ASLEEP or when i hear random banging around the entire house below me when you're doing god knows what. Anyway I hope he chokes :)
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luveline · 2 years
Note
Hello! Congrats on 800! Can I request a 🌾 for Sirius.
Basically Sirius being in love with James' little sister (Potter!reader) and he's a softie around her so the marauders making fun of him for being a simp but he denies his feelings until jealousy swoops in when he sees her with another guy or something?. Idk lol go crazy with this trope that's all I have to say.
tada! sorry it’s so late, i hope this is alright! thanks so much for requesting <3
"You're looking at her again," Remus said lightly, turning a page in his novel.
"I am not," Sirius said, furiously averting his eyes from you.
James scowled. "He was."
"And how would you know, Remus? You haven't picked your head up in hours. It's a party!"
"Don't need to pick my head up. You're infatuated."
"Grow up," Sirius said.
"Take your own advice. Couldn't you fancy literally anybody else?" James said testily, circling his glass, drink teasing the rim.
"I don't fancy he- hi, Y/N!"
You smiled softly as you approached, glancing between each of the marauders in turn. "Evening, boys. How are you all? Sirius?" you asked, turning to face him head on. He melted under your eyes.
"Great, yeah, brilliant. How are you?"
You nodded, though you seemed a little unhappy. "I'm good."
"You sure, princess?"
James made a sound like he was being choked. Sirius ignored this, giving you a reassuring smile.
You sat down heavily on the sofa armchair beside him. "Tired. What about you, Remus?"
Remus smiled and looked up from his book, finally. "Great."
"Oh, good," you leaned into the sofa, your arm at Sirius' shoulder. "Jamesie?"
"I'm fine, you harlot. What's wrong with you, anyways?"
"Nothing!" you protested, fingers running along the fabric of Sirius' shirt, tracing the creases.
"Boy troubles?" Sirius asked quietly, trying to contain a shiver at the feeling of your fingertips on his soft shirt. You snorted, scratching his arm with your nail delicately.
"No. Lack of boy troubles, probably... Sorry, James, you don't want to hear it."
"I absolutely don't," he agreed.
"I do. Let's hear it," Sirius said, ignoring Remus' pointed you will hurt your own feelings glance.
"I just… I thought maybe Ben would come tonight," Ben was your on again, off again fling.
"There's still time, it's early," Sirius said.
You picked at a stray thread on his shoulder. "I don't know, it's stupid. I don't know if I actually want him to come. There doesn't seem to be much of anything between us these days."
"Good!" James said happily, sipping at his beer. "Fuck that guy."
"James," Remus scolded.
"What? He's an arse. You can do better, dearest sister. After you get me another beer," James said impishly.
You groaned, using Sirius' shoulder to climb up from your perch.
"You don't have to do that, Y/N," Sirius said.
You shrugged. "I want one myself anyways. Thanks, guys," you said, making for the drinks table.
“I can’t believe you fancy my little sister.”
“I don’t, Prongs. For fucks sake.”
Remus laughed quietly to himself. Sirius frowned. “Fuck you too, Moony.”
“‘You sure, princess?’ Oh, I could just projectile vomit where I stand,” James imitated his friend, before dramatically keeling over.
“You’re sitting,” Remus said, laughing loudly now.
“Pads understood the sentiment.”
Sirius blessed his best mates with the bird, sinking down into the sofa in a sulk. He didn’t fancy you. He was attracted to you in the way people usually were - you were lovely, soft-skinned with shining hair, a vision in multicolour. He’d have thought not being attracted to you would’ve been the less believable situation.
“There’s no shame in being whipped for a woman. I myself have been whipped for women in the past, and continue to be whipped for a woman as we speak,” James babbled. “That being said, literally any other woman would do. She’s my sister, and you’re my brother, and that’s literally incest.”
Sirius wrinkled his nose in disgust. Remus responded in turn, moving his leg to dig his foot nastily into James’ side. “You freak. That’s hardly the reality here.”
“You’re vile,” Sirius said, though he was laughing, “and Remus is right. You’re delusional.”
“You’re delusional if you truly believe you’re not infatuated with her,” Remus said.
“Who’s side are you on?” Sirius asked, though he knew Remus was never on anybody's side - he was justly fair.
“Look! If you don’t like her, you won’t mind that her boyfriend’s here.”
James gestured over Sirius' shoulder. He whipped around, heart in his mouth, to see that Ben had in fact decided to come, and had commandeered your attention. You giggled at something he said, the sound a song, and it made his stomach roil.
“I’m indifferent,” Sirius said decidedly, though he couldn’t look away as you pressed your hand to your neck, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “I’m happy for her.”
“She doesn’t even like him these days,” Remus said encouragingly. “Go save her.”
“She doesn’t need saving,” James protested.
“Go steal her,” Remus amended.
“She’s not an object,” Sirius murmured, getting to his feet without thinking.
“And get my drink while you’re at it,” James called, as Sirius walked away, towards you, towards your tinkling laugh and sunny smile.
He found himself standing a half foot away from you and your not-boyfriend with nothing to say, floundering for words.
You threw him a rope instantly, eyes sliding to his. “Hey, Sirius. I forgot his drink, didn’t I?”
“He’s feeling spoiled today.”
You rolled your eyes. “Isn’t he always?”
“Only on days ending with Y,” he said. He winced as soon as it came out of his mouth, though you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard.
“Oh, he’s the worst. Let him get his own drink and stay here with me,” you said, eyes bright.
Your not-boyfriend cleared his throat, looking at you expectantly. Sirius could feel himself about to say something rude when you said, “Ah, sorry, Ben. You’ll excuse us?” and pulled Sirius off to the drinks table.
He squeezed your hand in his, looking down at it between you both with something like wonder.
Oh, he thought to himself, I do fancy her.
“What are you drinking?” you asked him, stopped at the cider.
“I was thinking - you?” he asked, suddenly struck by a white-hot confidence, drawing strength from your lovely hand in his.
You grinned. “That could be arranged.”
<3
my masterlist
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peppermint-toads · 3 years
Note
Okay, but what if the reader has a day where she just cries, like it's just one of those days and the boys (wolfstar) are a little confused but try to figure it out, or they wanted to do some seggsy time but she just starts crying from exhaustion or something, just a lil thought
word count: 1.4k
cw: mostly fluff, spanking, use of safe word
an: this is my first request thank you thank you! i hope you enjoy!
“Fuck!” You winced as you rammed your shin into Sirius’ bed frame. The sudden pain caused your hands to fly down to the source of pain, grappling onto your leg as your books tumbled from your hold and onto your toes. “Shit!”
Hot tears pricked at your irises, less so from the pain and more from the pent up frustration festering in your entire being.
You had missed breakfast that morning, cursing yourself as your oxfords clacked across the castle floors, desperately trying to at least make it to transfigurations on time. With your luck, you had stumbled into class late and you were met with an utterly fuming Sirius.
He pinched your thigh when you sat, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, “You’re going to regret that.” This caused goosebumps to prickle at your skin, and not in the usual good way. Today his musings only fueled the pit of dread growing in your tummy.
The day dragged on, one painfully boring class after another. Potions, a class that you typically found captivating, did nothing to pique your interest. You were so distracted, in fact, that you completely blundered your garrotting gas potion. Slughorn decided it would be a lovely idea to make an example out of you.
“You see, ladies and gentlemen,” he chuckled to himself, “We want to do the exact opposite of what Miss y/l/n has done!” His plump cheeks glinted as he continued laughing to himself. You even caught Remus giggling to himself across the classroom.
You stared down at your fidgeting fingers, trying to coax the tears forming your eyes back into a state of dormancy. The fact that your own boyfriend was finding amusement in your humiliation made you feel ten times worse. You could feel the blistering heat creep up your cheeks until it tinted the tips of your ears a deep vermillion.
You choked back any visible signs of your vexation, opting to simply keep your head down and focus on your work until the class came to an end.
You grabbed your belongings in one swift motion, not looking to entertain Remus’ company. Your strides were long as you paced through the corridors to the tower, hoping to find solace under Sirius’ duvet.
You stumbled up the stairs, eager to hide from all the stressors the outside world had thrown at you today. Luckily, when you entered, you were met with silence, the boys probably messing about the castle somewhere.
You quickly kicked off your shiny, black shoes and unzipped your skirt, aching to replace your robes with one of Remus’ t-shirts. You did exactly that, trifling through his wardrobe for the shirt you desired. You remained in only your knickers, too tired to change into anything else.
Remus’ scent was present on the fabric, hints of tea leaves and parchment wafting upwards and catching on your nostrils. You relaxed, the aroma lulling you into a peaceful state.
It didn’t last long, however. You were ripped from your blissful headspace by the sound of the wooden door creaking open.
Remus and Sirius trampled over each other, both boys entrapped in fits of laughter.
“Did you see James’ face?” Sirius snorted, clutching his side in pain.
Remus nodded quickly, grappling at the door frame, nearly keeling over from the sheer force of his own laughter.
You watched them silently, crossing your fingers that Sirius had forgotten of your tardiness. And upon seeing Remus’ face, you were reminded of the ignominy of your potion. Tears filled your eyes yet again, but you wiped them away quickly, fearing further embarrassment.
Once Remus’ stature had returned to normal, he focused his attention to you, “You got away from me so quickly today, puppy. What was that about, hm?” Within moments, he was standing in front of you, stroking your hair back from your cheek that was smushed against Sirius’ plush pillow. You blinked up at him with glossy eyes, projecting innocence.
He smoothed a finger over your cheek, the sickeningly soft touch sending shivers down your spine. You sat up, reaching out and scrunching your fingers at the boy, signaling that you wanted up.
He obliged, slipping his arms around your waist and hoisting you up to straddle him. You pressed your cheek into his shoulder as he carried you over to Sirius. Remus quickly transferred you into Sirius’ arms, your legs now wrapped around the long-haired boy’s waist.
Sirius’ warm fingers melded into the undersides of your thighs and you mewled at the sensation. Your nose was mere centimeters away from his own, you could feel his soft breaths tickling your skin.
“You were late today, angel.” His grip on your thighs grew harder, the once comforting feeling turning into one that plagued you with unease. “Now what are we going to do about that?” He drawled.
Remus stood behind you, tenderly drawing shapes across your back. “You know that’s one of our rules, darling. You know better.” Remus’ tone was gentle but still reprimanding.
“What do you say, Remus? Maybe a spanking or two will straighten ‘er out?” You swallowed, all you wanted to do was rant about your day but you held your tongue, wanting to avoid further punishment.
Sirius carried you back to the bed you were curled up on only moments ago, laying you over his lap. Your limbs were splayed haphazardly across the mattress and Sirius’ firm thighs. He trailed his fingers up your thighs and to the hem of your borrowed shirt, lifting it over the curve of your bum.
I can do this, I’ll be fine, I can-
“Shit!” You cried as Sirius’ hand came down and landed a harsh strike across your flesh. A searing handprint was left in his wake, small white welts already forming on your skin.
“Oh you poor, pitiful thing,” Sirius seethed, rubbing a hand over the imprint, somewhat soothing your scorching skin.
The second spank came down harder and faster than the first, pain building off of the already existing impression. An onslaught of tears was released, you could no longer quell your pain and frustration.
“Butterscotch, butterscotch! Please!” You wailed out just before Sirius could deliver a third thwack to your backside. Remus was at your side before you could even blink and Sirius was flipping you over to straddle his lap. You winced, the movement stressing your fresh wound.
“Shh, shh angel, you’re alright,” Remus cooed from beside you as you smeared hot tears into Sirius’ sweater. Sirius’ firm grasp was now gently cradling the back of your head, stroking softly.
“Can you tell us what’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“F-first I m-missed breakfast, then I-I was late and Si got mad at me,” Every word came out broken, you couldn’t help the stuttering mess you had become.
“Oh, puppy,” Sirius frowned, “Was never really mad at you, could never be.”
“And t-then Professor S-Slughorn completely embarrassed me! And Remmy laughed!” Your tears picked up considerably and Remus’ cheeks flushed with guilt. He placed a tentative hand on your back, rubbing kindly against your heaving frame.
The three of you remained like this for a bit, soft touches lingering over you as hot tears rolled over the apples of your cheeks. They continued shushing you gently until your sobbing subsided into small hiccups.
“There we are,” Remus sighed out, relieved that you were finally calming down.
“We would never make you feel bad on purpose, y’know that right?” You nodded feebly into Sirius’ chest, finding comfort in the vibrations that tickled your ear when he spoke. You hummed at the sensation, your entire body relaxing into his form.
“I didn’t mean to laugh at you, promise. You just looked so flustered, I thought it was cute! I swear.” Remus explained, hoping to Merlin that you weren’t actually angry with him.
“S’okay, Rem.” You slurred, reaching a hand out to hold his own.
“C’mon, poppet, let’s get you to bed.” Sirius said decidedly.
“I’ll read you any book you’d like, how does that sound?” Remus added on quickly. Usually, he would pick the reading; anything he deemed noteworthy or deserving of his time. But tonight, it was your decision to make.
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Text
out-perving jiraiya 
I don’t remember the request for this at all, but I was having a moment earlier and this is what came of it. 
p.s. reader is of age, 30 years younger than Jiraiya.. so around mid to late twenties.
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You shouldn’t have been there, and if it counted for anything, you knew that. You knew it was wrong, but you were too far in to do anything about that now. In fact, you really weren’t thinking about the consequences of what your actions would lead to. If anything, he should have been proud of you. You were just following his example. 
You weren’t quite sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the course of traveling with him, there had been a sudden burst of lust that broke through the forefront of your brain, for a man that was not only your sensei, but also close to thirty years your senior. 
Were you ashamed? Yes, at first, but now however, your breaking point had been hit. Your fingers wouldn’t work anymore, and normally they would. You’d think about him, your sensei, with your fingers curled deep enough inside yourself it was damn near painful. You’d think about how his fingers would feel, you’d think about his mouth, his tongue, his cock.. hell, you’d think about anything as long as it was attached to him, but now, suddenly.. it just wasn’t enough- you needed the real thing.
You weren’t stupid enough to throw yourself at him, afterall, you had seen the kind of women that interested him, and you were sure that he’d turn you down, and you would have to live the rest of your days in shame. A plan, that was what you had devised, and fuck- you hoped it would work.
____
You just wanted a peek. You were sure that would be more than enough to get you through your dry spell. Which led you to where you were now, and the towel you had wrapped tightly around yourself wasn’t nearly enough for you to not feel the stiffness in your legs, or the ache that was beginning to blossom in your knees, but still you persevered. Your head tilted, and you caught a glimpse of him, white hair still as wild as normal, but this time, slightly damp. 
Your eyes trailed over the broadness of his shoulders, down to his chest, eyeing the scar there, before trailing lower.. and lower.. and- oh fuck. Your knees knocked, rubbing together in an attempt to gain friction, this had to be out of your wet dreams of him, you were sure of it. 
Your saliva was suddenly so much thicker than you remembered, and you found yourself almost choking, lungs seizing in a way that could have sent you gasping for breath. The sheer heft of his cock was the first thing you noticed as he moved to splash the warm water against his face, it swung at the mere motion, knocking back and forth against both of his thighs, and you were positive you might keel over then and there. You wouldn’t lie, you were extremely distracted by angry color of the head of his cock, and if you squinted hard enough you were sure there was a thick vein on the leftmost side.. oh hell, he was delicious. You could only imagine what he’d look like hard. Would he get thicker? Longer? Would the vein pulse against your insides? Fuck, you had to get out of here.
You didn’t know if it was better or worse that his cock was thicker than you had imagined, all you knew was that he was huge, and you were sure you would struggle to take him. The broadness of shoulders, and the way his hair brushed against his forehead was something that you weren’t privy on remembering. You were far too distracted by other things to focus on that anymore. Your eyes continued to take in the sight, burn it to your memory. Your dry spell was more than over, you could tell that already. 
Your fingers dug into your thighs, trying to maintain some dignity, you couldn’t touch yourself here. You were already crossing a line, and the last thing you needed was someone catching you knuckle deep while watching your mentor bathe. You sucked in a deep breath, determined to get one last glance at the way his abdomen melted into coarse hair, and then trailed to one of the most impressive cocks you had seen, but he was gone... oh no, he was gone.
Your head snapped around at the sound of imposing footsteps, and the first thing you saw was the white of a towel. Your gaze trailed up, mouth gaping at the dusting of white hair against the mans abdomen- and oh shit.. oh fuck.
“Get up, little girl.. you should know better.”
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love-toxin · 2 years
Text
kinktober day 12 - diluc ragnvindr.
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warnings: fuck or die, aphrodisiacs, master/servant dynamic, rough sex, oral, cock worship, hair pulling, mild spanking, gn reader.
word count: 1.1k
"Master Diluc, please-"
Every second that he doesn't move, you feel yourself inching closer towards your grave. Every absence of concern or hurry causes more sweat to bead at your skin, staining the soft fabric of your pressed outfit. 
And the more that the master of the winery looks down on you, the more you feel like you'll break if he doesn't touch you right this second. 
You know he's not the most fond of you, the one who constantly breaks things or spills tea or makes a bevy of other mistakes in his presence, but you're part of his staff nonetheless so there's little else he can do other than fire you. And you've expected it on many occasions, but he's never done so to you--but this time may be the exception, considering you're quite literally on your knees for him in his office, begging him to do unspeakable things to you.
"Enough."
Locks of his crimson hair sway as he turns his head away from you, like the sight of you alone is too much for him to bear. But he doesn't swat your hands away from his legs or his groin quite yet--in fact, if anything, he moves a little closer and just teases you that much more. He must be able to tell by your temperature alone that you've fallen victim to the effects of the wine you spilled all over your lap, the experimental brew so potent with electro slime energy that it electrified your whole body within seconds. You can feel the jolts of electricity running through your veins like they're iron lamp posts in the rain, keeping you energized and needy for something to combat it, but nothing comes close to beating the heat between your legs until Diluc's gloved hand comes to rest firmly on your head. 
"If you want it so badly, then work for it." 
Your eyes widen up at him, big as saucers. You're not quite sure you heard him right but fuck, you have nothing to lose at this point. You yank on his pants so hard his buckle breaks and endure a rough tug on your hair for doing so, but it's just so close--Master Diluc's cock is so tantalizingly close you can almost taste it, and when you finally get it uncovered you can barely believe the sight. It's just like you imagined it to be, veins prominent but not huge, head flushed and pink, slit dripping with precum just from watching you beg for him...it's a dream, such a sweet dream, all the way down to his crimson-coloured pubic hair trimmed neatly like he's been waiting for this. You've convinced yourself he has, and so you don't wait. You purse your lips to kiss the tip of it, and in the next second half of his cock has disappeared down your throat and Diluc is gripping the desk behind him to keep from keeling over. 
A strangled curse leaves his lips and he tugs so hard you nearly choke, but the full feeling of sucking him down is just so addicting you can't stop. You've fantasized about doing something like this for so long that it's always felt like just a faraway dream, but now that it's happening you want to make the most of it--and if you can blow him good enough to make him forget your misdemeanors, then that works even better in your favour. You start tonguing at one of those veins that you just know will be sensitive, the heady musk that surrounds his nether regions not even close to being able to deter you, and turn your eyes upward to watch him struggling to keep composure as you silently hope he loses all control and fucks your throat loose.  
"Get up,"
He pants from nowhere, patting your cheek just mildly hard enough for the slaps to sting a little. You don't quite catch his order though, as per usual, and his voice deepens as he bellows out the command one more time. 
"I said get up!" 
Diluc yanks you to your feet and throws you down on the desk with so much force it rattles everything on it, and leaves you so limp to make his frenzy to get the lower half of your uniform off that much easier. The fabric slides down your legs and his hands slide up them, leatherbound fingers prying your thighs apart and a gleaming pearl of spit dribbling from his mouth to land right between them, his thumb circling your entrance and teasing you with the tip before he feels like you're prepared enough. But you could never be, because as soon as the master enters you you're left scraping your nails against the wood grain of his desk, feet scrabbling for purchase against the floor as he pulls every thought from your mind and moans into the quiet air of his office as it's soon filled with the rough paps of him railing you from behind. 
A few papers slide off and flutter to the floor followed by a nearly empty teacup that smashes into tiny shards of porcelain, all of which he'll almost certainly force you to pick up when you're done. But for now all you can do is gasp and clutch at whatever you can to keep steady, even though your feet themselves keep lifting off the floor every time he thrusts and pounds you into submission. Your body is but a doll for him to abuse as he pleases, if not obvious by how hard he grips you by the back of your neck and brings down an open palm to your asscheeks, alternating between either one so you'll never be able to brace for the inevitable stinging ache. 
"Clumsy...just like always.."
He grunts from the back of his throat, yanking you up by the neck so his lips brush the shell of your ear, and his breath washes over you in hot puffs as he stifles the moans that are desperate to come out.
"My clumsy little servant...you owe me your life for this…" 
You certainly do. Diluc is kind enough even to grace you with a cumshot in the end, the warm splatters painting your back like a beautiful canvas, and his handprint branded on your rear like a tattoo that screams "Dawn Winery Property". Master Diluc has saved your life without a doubt, despite him eagerly watching you tremble afterwards as you sweep up the broken teacup with a soreness that stutters your step, eyes catching every detail and tongue so sharp as it points out your mistakes. 
But even if you spend the rest of your life paying off this debt, at least you can say it was worth it. 
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chil2de · 3 years
Note
Hi!! if possible can i please request yuuta having a girlfriend that’s his childhood friend? (So like instead of rika it’s y/n and she doesn’t die) that loves to dote on him cause that boy needs some love. Thank you!! <3
PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE THIS MADE ME SO SOFT!!!!! ohmygod!!!! growing up with yuuta would be THE best onshdhfsh thank you sososos much anon this was such a pleasure to write! i don’t know why but the “and she doesn’t die” had me screaming LMFAOOOO
enjoy! no warnings, just old fashioned cute fluff and heart wrenching moments! thank you for giving me the opportunity to write for the best boy mwaaah you deserve eternal happiness! hope no insects bite you during these warm months <3
“okkotsu!” you cried out, feminine and shrill voice ringing in the air. the cicadas chirped melodiously, calling out their delightful songs in the spring air.
the young boy staggered around, losing his balance from spinning too fast. his fragile hands reached out, pulling in small grabby motions towards your innocent and joyous face.
you were always so optimistic, even when you were younger. yuuta could only huff and wail as his caretaker hauled him away from the playground, gesturing it was time for him to come home. thick and messy tears spilled out the corners of his eyes which hadn’t yet endured countless sleep devoid nights.
he was so far away, but that was okay because you knew you’d see him the very next day.
“okkotsu! promise to play with me again tomorrow!” you cupped your hands, exclaiming as much as your little lungs could endure. yuuta could see the tears heavy in your gaze, but even then, you prevailed. you grinned, all for him.
ever since the very start. till ‘death do us apart.
-
“okkotsu! come oooon, don’t cry, okay? (y/n)’s got your back! see, see?! look! they don’t bite!” you braved a smirk on your features, beckoning the shy and introverted young man over. his face looked uncertain and his lips wobbled as though he could crack at any moment. he took a few cautious steps, maintaining his distance between you and the furry animal on the floor.
“r-really? it won’t bite?” he coughed, reaching his unstable fingertips out.
“eh?! that’s the first time you’ve spoken to me! your voice is so nice! it’s so cool! hey! can i hear it again? pleaaaase? i know you’re shy but i’d really like to hear it! hey, okkotsu, say my name? pretty please?”
“um- i, uh.. it’s okay.. you can call me yuuta.”
-
“yuuta! you’re going to be late for your first day of junior high! i totally told you to wake up on time too!” you stood with your hands rested firmly on your hips, face stern and tone impatient.
“sorry! sorry- it’s um, my hair. i don’t know how to style it.” he admitted, albeit sheepishly by trailing the last few words off into a murmur. you only gave him a sigh before kneeling down behind him, propping yourself up to take a look at his hair in the reflection of the mirror.
“how on earth are you so tall already? we eat the same food, you know. slouch over a little.” you pinched his cheeks before glossing over his hair.
when you ran your fingertips through his hair, you felt butterflies and anxiety rock your stomach.
that’s never been there before.
you’ve touched yuuta countless times, whether that was accidentally hitting him, holding his hand to cross the street…
so why was it different?
you could feel yuuta’s body tense up and run rigid underneath your touch.
that definitely wasn’t there before.
“relax. it’s me.” you cooed quietly, roughing up his hair into different styles.
“like this? looks like you just woke up, sorta, but i think it’s cute.”
yuuta’s heart rate skyrocketed through the roof and his breath hitched.
“cute?” he reiterated, chewing out the phrase like he’d never heard it before in his life.
“hm? yeah-“
you caught his gaze in the mirror, eyes half lidded and attention averted. the tips of his ears were tainted a deep red with small flicks of blush painting his cheeks.
“eh?! nononono- not like that i’m- i just think it suits you, you know? oh, crap, would you look at the time? okay we gotta go and leave!” you clambered out of his bedroom, thudding the door shut behind you.
yuuta only gawked at you with bewilderment, lips slightly parted and fingertips outstretched in his failed attempt to stop you.
he turned to himself in the mirror, studying his features before running one hand through his jet black locks.
“cute, huh?” he muttered, avoiding his own judgemental gaze.
-
the bittersweet part about growing up with a childhood friend is change.
for all the time that you’d spent with yuuta, you didn’t realise that your relationship with him was something to not take for granted.
especially with those around you who would kill for what you two have.
you’d always get mundane questions from high school girls who thought they could have a shot with him, “what’s his type?” “do you think he likes me?”
meanwhile you only played along with their charades, laughing inwardly when he was actually extremely introverted.
“so? what’s the deal with you and okkotsu-san? you guys dating?”
“no. we’re just friends.”
“seriously? you guys are always glued at the hip. you know he has a picture of you in his locker, right?”
“yeah? so do i. it doesn’t mean anything.”
“it’s kind of a shame, he’s such a nice young man.. gone to waste like that..”
“what’s gone to waste?” yuuta inquired with an indifferent tone, plopping down beside you with his bento box. the classmate sat opposite you only gave him a phony cheerful temperament, twirling her index finger around her hair.
“oh! okkotsu-senpai! we were just talking about you! how was your da-“
“please leave.”
you could only gape at him in your peripherals, sputtering on your sandwich as you watched the life drain from your classmate at his monotony. yuuta didn’t spare you or the girl a glance as he worked to unpack his lunch, hell the guy even murmured a small itadakimasu as if nothing happened.
“wh- okkotsu senpai?”
“listen.” he let out a deep sigh before proceeding.
“whatever shot you thought you had with me? it’s gone out the window. don’t disrespect (y/n) in front of me like that again.”
“you’re making us uncomfortable, so get up and go.” he motioned with his chopsticks, giving her a dead gaze towards another table.
the girl scoffed, mouth hung wide open as she picked up her bag and stormed out of sight.
whilst your face was as blank as a stone, internally, you were only screaming in the depths of piping hot hell visible from the sun itself.
baby girl? that was when you noticed how fucking fine of a man yuuta grew up to be.
“that was seriously nerve wracking.. my stomach hurts so bad right now” yuuta coughed through a bite of his sandwich, refusing to meet your gaze.
you slapped his back, because, holy shit??? awe painted your face like you just witnessed your own child talking or walking for the first time.
“what the shit? yuuta? are you kidding?”
“oh, huh? did i overdo it or something?“
“no?! are you kidding? that was fucking awesome! i swear! this is why i love you-“
oh.
uh oh.
oh no.
yuuta let out a shrill squeak unbeknownst to any human being able to produce such a volume. it was a cross between a floorboard creaking, a mouse sniffing and him choking on his food. the poor boy had to excuse himself to the bathroom, hacking and sniffling in an ugly fit of coughs from the food that got caught in his windpipe.
your blood rushed to your head, veins lit ablaze, bones rattling as you could hear the chatter pound and drill into your skull, scoring you deep and down into your bones.
“did she just say she loves him?”
“i totally knew they were going out!”
“i can’t believe it…”
“do you think he’ll reject her?”
it replayed over, and over, and over. what a fucking fool you felt. did he even feel the same?
that’s why i love you.
i love you.
i love you.
a blob of black clouded your vision and you could hear the glass breaking.
yuuta sat himself back down, excusing himself.
you could hear nothing but the tune of his heartbeat. or was it yours? it sounded too heavy to belong in either of your bodies.
his voice came as a wobble because of his anxiety, but this was the one thing in his life he’d be absolutely certain of.
“that’s okay. i love you too.”
-
“yuuta? you okay? you’ve been spacing out for at least five minutes. something on your mind?” you lightly shake your boyfriend, grip reassuring but firm. it takes a couple of seconds for his gaze to gloss over as he returns back to reality.
“sorry. was just thinking about our childhood, that’s all.” his voice comes out deep and masculine. it doesn’t have that tremor as it used to before, like he’d break down at any minute.
you can say with absolute certainty as you stare up your entire 5’10 boyfriend that he’s matured well.
his hand snakes around to your waist, pulling you into him for comfort.
some ways better than others, you suppose.
“can we stay home today?” he hums, resting his chin on top of your head,
“same as ever, yuuta, aren’t you? it’s fine, i’ll tell nobara my period’s making me act up. she’ll understand-“
“hm? you’re not due for another week though, right?”
you crease your eyebrows as you type out an apology to nobara for cancelling plans, glancing up at yuuta curiously.
“how the heck do you know that?”
“i’m not supposed to? i’d always count your cycle so i wouldn’t irritate you on the wrong day. besides, don’t you think it was too convenient for you to always find snacks in your locker when it rolled around?”
“those snacks were you?! oh my god! i was trying to figure that out for forever!”
“i know. i remember you ranting to me about it.”
“you just sat there?! yuuta! you’re so cheeky sometimes, i swear!”
“only for you.” he chimes, peppering a soft kiss onto your head. you smile against him, though unfortunately pry out of his familiar and welcoming touch.
“i’m gonna step out for a second tho, ‘kay? i think that’s itadori at the door with my chocolate and painkillers” you snort, giving yuuta a bold wink as you put on your best act, keeling over and clutching at your abdomen as though you’re on death’s door.
“you’re awful.” yuuta chuckles, slumping down onto the sofa to hear the events unfold right in front of him.
you clear your throat and slouch your shoulders as you pry the apartment door open.
“(y/n)-senpai! i came as fast as i could and i brought you some of your favourite sna- oh, okkotsu-senpai! hello!”
“hi there.” he leans his head back, giving itadori a small wave.
“i won’t interrupt you guys so get well soon! and fast! cause i wanna hang out with you! bye!”
you cradle the necessities itadori brought whilst gleaming at yuuta with a wicked grin plastered on your face from ear to ear.
“you want anything?” you cock an eyebrow, showing him the arrangement of snacks.
it’s not the answer you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t unwelcome. it made you feel warm inside, like eating warm and soothing soup on a cold winter’s day. this, for you, was okkotsu yuuta at his best, stripped clean and vulnerable.
you’re the only one who he can relax around, act like the world is carefree. like he’s young again, prancing around in that dingy colourful playground he met you at.
“i want you to kiss me.”
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aetherarf · 3 years
Note
Hi there!! Based off of your headcanon of Diluc being allergic to alcohol, could you write either headcanons or a fic where Diluc accidentally drinks alcohol and gets sick and his s/o takes care of him? Maybe he mistakes some wine for grape juice and guzzles a glass while very thirsty or something
Of course :D! I'm going to mention I'm going off of my own allergic reactions to alcohol and this is not how everyone who IS allergic would react.
[[ ANGST WARNING: NEAR LETHAL ALLERGIC REACTIONS ( No death ) , BLOOD ]]
[[ SFW Summary: A simple night with his spouse, Diluc wants to just relax... but a mix up, he takes a sip of your wine... And it goes downhill from there.
Word Count: 1'761 ]]
"Is this a good spot?"
"Uhm... Just a little to the left... there!"
Diluc sighed, dusting off his hands. You had, only recently, gotten everything over to the Winery. Sure, you've been married for more than a few months, but it was just a daunting task... And it took a little bit of moving stuff around to make it feel like a proper home--for both of you.
And with that, it was the last bookshelf moved. You walked over, giving Diluc a hug and a kiss on the cheek, seeing that rare but beautiful smile on his usually apathetic features.
"Come, let's celebrate a little..."
"And by that you mean lazing about until dawn." Diluc said, but it wasn't an insult.
"Right. And I'm going to be drinking--I know, you won't, you won't... could you just drink some grape juice though, so you're drinking with me in spirit?" You pleaded, it felt a little less like you were getting drunk on your husband's [Husband!] lap while he was probably working on something or reading.
"Of course," he agreed, he liked grape juice anyway.
"You have to put it in a wine glass though. It's prettier that way."
"Demanding," he teased, all fluff and adoration, "That's fine, too."
The both of you walked to the kitchen, Diluc pouring you a glass of wine, and corked the bottle, but he left it out on the table--a silent way of saying Just bring it, I know you'll want more later.
He knew you quite well. Just how you knew he would never drink a drop of wine if he could help it, he didn't even like it on his skin...
In the end, he always said the same thing, I just don't like alcohol. There was no reason to press further, while you were curious if it had to do with... ahem, the late former Winemaster, or if it was just a manner of taste.
He'd tell you when he was ready.
You grabbed the bottle, walking ahead to laze about on the sofa, and a few moments later Diluc came in with his own glass of grape juice, sitting down beside you, practically dragging you to lie down on him as he set his glass down on the table beside the sofa, you reaching over to set down your glass as well, noting that it was the one on the left, before you leaned over, grabbing a book for yourself to read, and as you looked back at him, he was already reading his own... Squinting more than you expected.
"You should get your eyes checked," you commented, pressing your finger on the bookmark to your open book, flipping it open to the page, trying to find the line you left it on...
"Why?" He asked, not looking at you.
"You're squinting more and more. Old man eyes."
He only huffed, "Fine, I'll get checked another time."
"And I'll remind you."
"... thank you."
A comfortable silence fell as the two of you read. You reached over from time to time, taking a sip of your wine, and Diluc hadn't touched his... maybe he just wasn't in the mood, so it was fine. It was nice that he was just being considerate enough to 'pretend'.
Eventually, you emptied your glass, refilled it, and took a sip before lying against him again. His was untouched, but after you finally refilled yours.
Diluc looked oddly at the drinks... he should probably at least finish his glass to not waste, reaching over and grabbing it--he just didn't feel in the mood for it, but... it was fine.
He tried to drink it quickly, normally he enjoyed the taste but maybe he just was a little sick of it. But--As soon as he saw the empty glass, right before him, he made a horrific choking noise, the taste hitting him.
He drank wine-- an overly full glass no less.
A hand smacked over his mouth, he jumped up, desperately hoping that if he got it out of him, nothing bad would happen, completely ignoring your shout of dismay-You'd forgive him, he could mask it under such a horrific veil of disgust...
He grabbed a spare cloth and pressed it to his mouth, spitting any of it as he could, almost wanting to gag and vomit--his neck, his throat, it felt like it boiled, burning... horrific... It was spreading to his face and chest, both of which were probably red.
"Diluc-" Distantly, he heard your voice, but as he saw your face before him through teary eyes, he realized you were far closer than you sounded, "Diluc, what's wrong?"
He opened his mouth, but he suddenly smacked the cloth over it again, spitting up the blood that always would come up, as soon as it was out, he desperately rasped for air.
You saw--you stared at it. That was not the red of wine alone, that was blood. The deep red wine mixed with vibrant blood somehow was the most disgusting color you've ever seen.
"Please," you begged, "Tell me what to do," You could ask why or what or how when he didn't look like he was about to keel over.
But he couldn't tell you--he was so... weak. He could only devote every ounce of energy he had to breathing.
Lie down-if he could lie down, he could focus on that better, but... but...
With your arms wrapped around him, you did the bed you could dragging him over to lie down, he flopping like a corpse, but the desperate, almost shocked gasp of an inhale he made as soon as he wasn't forcing himself to stand, the world around him scalding hot, like he was boiling alive.
How pathetic he looked, lying here, reduced to this pathetic state by a single glass of stupid fucking wine.
You had left, for only a moment, getting a new, clean cloth to try and wipe any other blood off of his mouth. As you could back, he was coughing, how desperate and weak he sounded, tears pouring down his cheeks. You grabbed his arm, forcing him onto his side in fear that he could choke on his own blood,
"What happened," you asked, terrified with tears in your eyes as you wiped around his mouth, trying to offer what little comfort. His skin was damn dear as red as his hair, his throat looked almost like he was strangled, and his shoulders and chest were flush. You tried to tuck a pillow under his head, his neck, so he could strain as little as possible.
"Diluc," you begged, "Please, tell me... tell me what to do, tell me what's happening?"
You felt so selfish, crying when it looked like he was dying, but what else were you supposed to do? If-if you could know what to do, at least it was... something!
"Ah," he panted, "All...er..."
"Aller? No... Allergic?" You asked, and he weakly nodded. "You're having an allergic reaction to... no, you're allergic to alcohol?"
Again, he nodded, making a noise between a choked up cough and a sob--
"How do I help?" You asked, trying to comfort him, to wipe the mess off of his mouth again,
"Waih...tuh..." Wait, "Stah...yuh." Stay.
Probably staying here and ensuring he could keep breathing was the best course of action. You didn't want to leave for a second, and you wouldn't. How long would it last? Should you be dragging him to the Cathedral, as far as it was, you'd do it, you'd walk on two broken legs before you'd let him die, dragging him along.
... No.
If he knew he was having an allergic reaction, then he knew about it. He knew how to... deal with it felt generous, with how he was just riding it out, but if he'd survive... you'd never touch wine ever again if it meant never ever risking seeing him like this ever again. You didn't marry for wine, after all, you married him because you loved him, which made seeing him like this so, so much more painful.
Minutes, tense minutes when you just tried to comfort him turned to hours. For the first hour, oh, how horrible he must have felt, just spluttering for air... but slowly, his breathing got quieter. When you first noticed, you tried listening, but he was breathing... not just fighting as much.
By the third hour, his skin was not as red. Still visibly blushed all over.
By the fourth, he pushed himself up, but he seemed hesitant to speak... but this was enough. You sat next to him, grabbing him and holding his head to your chest--the tears that still trickled, he too exhausted to cry in the pain he must be in, stuck to your clothes. You didn't care. He could cough blood on you and you'd just want to make his pain stop.
"Soh... sorry." He apologized, weakly.
"Don't be." You cooed, worried but still full of love, "You're okay, that's all I care about."
A few long moments... and eventually, he pulled away from you--letting out a weak whine... He must've still been in pain.
"Can we," his voice was agonizingly raspy, but he could still talk, which was enough... more than enough, "Can we... go to bed...?" He asked, and you nodded
"Of course."
You both found your way to the bed, you half-dragging him as he kept tripping over himself. Again, he flopped into the bed, and you crawled in with him, holding him close.
"Are you going to be okay?" You asked, he didn't respond... but then he sighed.
"Yes," he said, "In a day... or two..."
"You're going to be like this for a day or two?"
He grumbled... "No..."
He must've just been too tired to explain.
"I can ask tomorrow," you decided, holding him close. '... Why didn't you tell me you were allergic to alcohol?"
A silence.
With your arms wrapped around him, you gently ran your knuckles up and down his back.
"Scared."
...
"You don't have to be scared of me."
"I know..."
"Are you safe to sleep?"
"Yes..."
"Okay, I'll be right here... I won't let something like this happen again."
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, weakly sighing... His breathing was still a bit rough, raspy...
The next day, you'd learn that he's been allergic to alcohol since a young age, each word still raspy, and it'd take 'a day or two' for all the effects to clear up.
Suddenly, his aversion to alcohol, at least to a degree, made much, much more sense.
153 notes · View notes
jaskierswolf · 3 years
Text
The Love We Have
Part 3/5 - AO3 - Previous
Summary: Kaer Morhen has an old tradition in order to keep the witchers safe after the siege. Only witchers and their partners are allowed in the keep but Geralt is tired of parting with Jaskier over the winter so decides to invite him to Kaer Morhen… only he forgets to mention one tiny little detail.
Ship: Geraskier
Rating: T
Warnings: None?? Maybe… I’ll add them later if I remember any.
________
They hadn’t found a solution that night. Geralt hadn’t been willing to talk about it, so Jaskier had reluctantly let it go. They had time to figure everything out. It’s not like they had to have fake sex every evening, and they’d already said they were worn out from the road. It didn’t stop Jaskier’s mind from running faster than Roach in a field full of dandelions. Geralt had eventually pulled Jaskier to his chest and started rubbing soothing circles into Jaskier’s side.
After that Jaskier was out like a light.
Which was totally unfair.
They’d woken up wrapped in each other’s arms, legs tangled and honestly in his sleep hazed mind Jaskier hadn’t been able to figure out which limb belonged to which body. It had all been rather nice, until Jaskier remembered Geralt was now his fake boyfriend not his real one and he pulled away from Geralt in a start.
He’d ended up falling out of the bed and almost giving himself a concussion. He was a fucking nightmare.
“Bard,” Vesemir barked just as he was finishing his breakfast, “meet me in the library. You have work to do. Geralt, there’s some tiles coming loose on the roof above the armoury.”
Geralt nodded.
Jaskier just stared, wide eyed after Vesemir. “Wait what?”
“Chores, Jask.”
“Yes yes, but… why am I? I’m a guest!” he whined rather pathetically.
“We don’t have guests in Kaer Morhen. You’re family, you have to work.”
“Oh cock!” he grumbled, there went his relaxing winter.
__________________
It turned out he really shouldn’t have worried about having to fake his relationship with Geralt. They barely saw each other during the day. Geralt was stuck on the more physical tasks whereas Jaskier spent his days scribbling on potion bottles and ingredient jars, or helping Vesemir organise the vast library, a job he would have finished sooner if he didn’t keep getting distracted by the books. He’d never seen half of them, not even whilst at Oxenfurt.
Two more witchers arrived after Jaskier’s first week at Kaer Morhen, Lambert and Eskel. They travelled up the mountain path together and arrived just in time for dinner that evening. Thankfully, like Geralt and Jaskier, they’d been too tired to really say anything the first night.
The second night, however, was a different story altogether. Lambert, as it turned out, was a little shit. Jaskier, under any other circumstances would have adored him, but his questions about their relationship were driving him up the wall.
“So, you finally tamed the famed White Wolf,” Lambert snorted, taking a long gulp of white gull.
“Ah yes, well. It would seem that way wouldn’t it,” Jaskier said smoothly, not entirely a lie either which he was proud of.
“So when did he confess?” Lambert probed. Jaskier cooed over how he’d been in love with Geralt since Posada, love at first sight being all very poetic and exactly the sort of story Geralt expected from him. Geralt mumbled something about the Djinn and how Jaskier almost dying had opened his eyes. Jaskier wanted to laugh at that, but he kept his cool. The only thing he remembered was how Geralt had fallen into Yennefer’s arms and broken his heart.
“I found Jaskier in Oxenfurt in the spring,” Geralt explained, again not a lie. Jaskier was amazed by their combined ability to spin the truth. Jaskier remembered it fondly. Normally he had to track Geralt down so he’d been surprised to see Geralt on his doorstep come spring. “Missed him all winter, didn’t want to spend anymore time apart.”
“And the fool quite literally swept me off my feet,” Jaskier giggled, leaning against Geralt’s shoulder. He wanted to hold his hand under the table but… well…he had no excuse.
“I couldn’t wait to kiss him,” Geralt admitted, a stupidly fond smile on his face that Jaskier couldn’t help but return. He licked his lips and his eyes flicked down in a silent question. They’d spoken about kissing in front of the other witchers but this would be the first time.
Geralt’s smile widened, a rare occurrence that left Jaskier’s heart somersaulting in his chest. He swallowed and then leaned in to press his lips against Geralt’s. It was only a peck on the lips, appropriate for company, but Jaskier still felt dizzy. Gods, he was so in love. It was just not fair.
Geralt bumped his nose against Jaskier’s as they pulled apart and Jaskier could feel himself blushing furiously. How was Geralt so good at this?
“About time the idiot got his head out of his arse,” Eskel laughed, shooting both Geralt and Jaskier a fond smile, and raising his drink.
Jaskier choked, ale spraying all over the table. Some went down his throat the wrong way and he started to cough and splutter. He was wheezing for breath by the time he’d finished and his throat was sore. Geralt’s hand rested on his back, and Lambert and Eskel were looking at him like he was about to keel over.
“Fine,” he rasped “I’m fine, just… “ he coughed again.
What the fuck had Eskel meant? Geralt finally getting his head out of his arse? Come to think of it, Vesemir hadn’t been entirely surprised by Jaskier’s presence either. None of them were, and he knew Geralt had told his family about him.
So what exactly had his grumpy best friend been telling the witchers of Kaer Morhen.
Jaskier started thinking over the last couple of decades spent at Geralt’s side. The witcher barely admitted they were friends, going so far as to argue with Jaskier that they weren’t. At first that had stung but now Jaskier was starting to wonder if he’d read it wrong. Geralt wasn’t one for words or emotions, Jaskier knew that, but he would have thought that even Geralt would know that Jaskier needed to hear some kind of confession.
But Geralt’s love language was not words, and it never had been.
Geralt showed he cared in different ways. At first it was not riding away and abandoning Jaskier, despite his protests that Jaskier was just trouble, then Geralt would put away coin to save up for treats on the road. Treats that he didn’t indulge in himself, but sweet buns, healing potions that wouldn’t kill Jaskier, a spare bedroll, better shoes, warmer clothes. Piece by piece Geralt had made sure that Jaskier was well equipped for the road.
In turn, Jaskier paid for their rooms at the inn, helped to wash Geralt’s hair, which was honestly a gross job and Jaskier deserved a lot more thanks for it. Monster guts stuck to hair like a burr in a sheep’s wool. He played ballads and told epic stories of Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, all around the Continent until the Butcher of Blaviken was but a distant memory. A cautionary tale told to children before bed but nothing based in truth. No one, outside of Blaviken, even remembered that it had been Geralt at all. That was also Jaskier’s doing, morphing the tales of the Butcher of Blaviken into a monster of its very own, far apart from witchers; a demon that the White Wolf had banished.
But that wasn’t Jaskier’s love language. That was just… helping out a friend. He was a bard, a poet, a romantic. If he truly thought he’d had a chance with his best friend then he would have adorned Geralt in pet names, flowers, sonnets. No one would have any doubt about who Jaskier truly loved, who his heart belonged to, and he’d foolishly expected to be wooed in quite the same way.
Fuck.
A fool.
An utter fool.
All he needed was a hat with bells and a tambourine.
“Oh fuck,” he finally muttered aloud.
“Jask?” Geralt’s voice cut through his turmoil and he blinked until he was back in the now familiar dining room at Kaer Morhen.
Four sets of golden eyes were watching him.
“I need a moment,” he stammered and then, like the coward he was… he fled.
_____________
He paced around the room until the sound of his footsteps started to annoy him, the never-ending echoing thud reverberating around the room. He threw himself on the bed, inhaling Geralt's scent. It usually helped to ground him but today was different. It just confused him. He felt completely off-balanced. Did Geralt actually want him?
As more than a friend?
It completely changed the last two decades of his life. The wasted opportunities he’d had if hadn’t been such a coward.
Fuck!
Why couldn’t he have just said something?
Why didn’t Geralt?
But what if he was reading the whole thing wrong? What if this was just false hope? That thought burned through him, making his heart ache. He felt like he’d been thrown into a fire, flames blazing around him, a slow torturous death as his love seared through his soul.
He sobbed helplessly and held a pillow to his chest. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. He’d flown too close to the fucking sun and now he was falling, wings melted and falling apart, his tears glistening in the very rays that had been his end.
“Jaskier?”
“Go away,” he grumbled. He couldn’t face Geralt, not now. It was too soon and too overwhelming.
“I’m sorry, Jask.”
Jaskier threw his pillow at the door and Geralt ducked out of the way. He heard the door close and he went back to feeling sorry for himself, praying to all the gods he’d feel better after a good cry. He was pathetic. And yet again, Geralt had found him bawling his eyes out.
“Fuck!” He yelled, not even caring anymore who could hear him. Fucking witchers and their fancy mutations and enhanced hearing. It wasn’t fucking fair.
And the whole ‘only significant others’ rule was completely bullshit.
“Fucking shit balls,” Jaskier screamed into his pillow. “Cock,” he mumbled rather lamely.
It would have all been quite fun if he wasn’t quite so in love with Geralt. If they’d been just friends he would have enjoyed the easy flirtations, his personality was practically made for it. He was so fucking angry with himself for not being able to do this, even Geralt was putting on a better show. He sniffed and wiped the snot from his nose.
“Oh get a grip, Jask,” he muttered, grimacing as he looked at his hands. “Gods, I’m a wreck.”
“You’re not a wreck,” he heard Geralt say.
He sat up, slightly dizzy from moving too quickly, and glanced around the room. It was empty. Was he hearing voices now?
“Geralt?”
“I’m outside.”
“Oh.”
Jaskier stared at the door, longing to open it but something held him back. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw Geralt right now. Either yell at him or snog him senseless.
He wasn’t really sure if Geralt wanted either of those things.
So he crawled off the end of the bed and knelt in front of the door, pressing his forehead to the wood. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m normally better company, or at least I try to be… for you?” he whispered, knowing Geralt could hear him.
Geralt hummed and Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, tears still running down his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to cause a fuss.
“I didn’t think it would be so hard,” he sighed, his fingers scraping at his scalp.
“I’m sorry,” Geralt grunted. “I know it can’t be easy, pretending to love me, but…”
Jaskier had scrambled to his feet and pulled the door open before Geralt could finish that sentence. The fucking bastard thought it was all so hard because he was unlovable! Jaskier’s misery turned to anger in the blink of an eye. Geralt fell backwards through the door, his head landing at Jaskier’s feet and he blinked up at him in surprise.
“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence, Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier hissed.
“But…”
“You are my best friend in the whole wide world and I love you, so don’t you dare start spouting some nonsense about how no one could love you. You horse’s arse!”
“Jask,”
“Now get in here, you and I are going to pretend to have sex.” Jaskier’s words surprised him, they were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“What?!”
“We’ll tell the others that I was just being dramatic, I’m a bard after all,” Jaskier explained with a wave of his hand. He needed to stop moping and get into his role, plus if there was a chance that Geralt did love him back, which he was really beginning to suspect he did… then… well… what better way to find out?
86 notes · View notes