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studioghibelli · 4 months

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the end of the world- a joel miller x reader

summary: you had a strict relationship with joel that stuck to the rules. fuck, leave, repeat. it was only a matter of time until feelings were dragged into the mix. when joel leaves at the first sign of love, you're left wondering what you had done wrong. (rated explicit, 18+, mdni)

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, implied fwb relationship, heavy handed on the angst, a whole lot of pining, a lot of flashbacks, and smut. (unprotected piv sex, fingering, clit rubbing, masturbation?, dirty talk, pet names, allusions to slapping/rougher sex, brief biting, a tiny bit of daddy kink.) ended with a bit of fluff

note: i think this is my favorite thing i have ever written. i guess i was in some sort of mood or sumfin. also i absolutely hate spell checking so sorry for any errors. enjoy!!

Joel used to be rough.

He used to imprint his name upon your skin through heavy handed grips and crescent shaped nail marks, left deep into the supple skin of your thighs. Like hieroglyphs on a wall of sandstone, he made sure the world would see what beauty he had left etched into your skin, like a canvas that only he had the privilege of painting.

He used to take you by the throat and kiss you with biblical fervor. He would kiss you so hard the taste of his spit lingered on your tongue for the days following, reminding you who you belonged to, if only for a few hours.

He used to sink his incisors into your neck, suckling at your skin like a vampire in search of an artery. He would leave deep patches of purple beneath your ear, the mark of a man who knew just what you wanted, the mark of a man who was more primal, more animalistic, than he was human.

Then, something changed.

Soft was he, on one fateful night, where his rough palms dragged across the side of your body, gentle waves of pleasure heaving, heaving, heaving, washing over you until you were a shell drowning in an ocean tide, consumed only by thoughts of him.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

A mantra, a promise, a prayer.

Soft was he, his lips molding to yours like cement stuck in the cracks of sidewalks, unwavering and unbreaking, filling you up to the hilt.

Soft was he, as he slipped his cock deep into your pussy, deep and gentle, hitting against every inch, every spot, that made your legs quiver just for him.

Soft was he, as he cradled your face in his rough hands, eyes boring in to your own, the curved bridge of his nose pressing into your rounded cheek, coaxing you, asking you, begging you, to cum for him.

Only ever him.

His hand's had done irreversible damage, taken many lives, and he pushed back the guilt for those crimes long ago, but Joel figured that perhaps holding your face in his hands was worth all the blood, the sweat, the grime and decay. Perhaps touching the skin of an angel was enough to bathe him clean from his past sins, enough to purify the monster which lurked within.

And then one day, he swore you off.

"Can't be around you anymore." He snarled, hand dragging down his face, heavy and hot with the burning poker of shame.

"Says who?" Your voice was cracking, the angry prick of tears stabbing at your eyes, like daggers dripping with bitter venom.

"Me. This ain't.... right. We should never have done this."

"Why isn't it right?" You were begging, trying your hardest to coax put a semblance of an answer from him.

"You're too young for this. For-for me. I ain't good for you."

"Where is this coming from? Just two nights ago you were making love-"

"That's the problem." Joel hissed. "Makin' love." He scoffed spitefully, shaking his head firmly. "It's the end of the fuckin' world and I'm worried about makin' a woman cum, makin' your eyes roll. I should be out fightin', I should be out makin' rounds and doin' my work. Ain't thought of anything like that since I've been with you. I have duties. Responsibilities. I'm too old to be sleeping around like some teenager."

You hated yourself for allowing a tear to slip, hated yourself for showing weakness in his presence. "What about your duty to me?" You cried out, hands tangling into tight fists. You felt your veins pumping with venomous resentment, wondering how you could have been so stupid to allow him respite behind the walls of your soul, sanctuary from the world around the two of you.

"I don't have no duty to you. You're not my wife, not my girl. You're just somebody I was fuckin'."

That was two months ago. Two long, grueling months.

This winter in Jackson was particularly brutal. Perhaps nature had been in tune with your heart, rocking and shaking and screaming in unison with your thoughts, angry and vengeful. Like Poseidon wreaking havoc on the ocean, like Zeus bringing hailstorms of lightning, like Zephyrus playing his hand in an assailing wind; you felt your rage through the soil, the packed snow, the shaking pine needles.

Everyday you would trek to your shop, sit behind the counter, and patiently wait for someone to stop by, wait for someone to ask how your day was (which you would inevitably lie about, tell them how good you were), and wait for someone to barter or trade with you.

A dozen chicken eggs for a woven blanket, a few sprigs of rosemary for some pencils, a handful of sheep's wool for some freshly pressed paper.

It was the same every day.

Rise, work, sit, cry, sleep, repeat.

For the past two months you had lurked around the corners of Jackson with a heavy gray cloud hanging over your head, and each day for the past two months you despised yourself for being so caught up with Joel fucking Miller, for being so upset he left you.

You lived in the smallest house in Jackson. There was no reason for you to take up a big one, no reason for you to have two stories, no reason for you to have a big open kitchen or spacious living room. What was the point? No husband, no children, no nothing.

You had tried to make it yours, and you had tried to make it happier since that horrible, awful, nasty thing happened between you and Joel.

You had bought a thick and oversized crocheted blanket the color of sand with a harvest worth of kale, thrown it over a soft and lived-in suede couch to curl up under. You had bartered a basketful of gourds for two knitted pillows, a brown dachshund stitched into one, and a ginger cat stitched into the other. You had picked up a backpack full of books on a run into the nearest town, settling on classics that you used to read as a young girl, in hopes you could feel that golden peace so often felt during childhood, when the only pressing matters on your mind were untied shoelaces and what mom was cooking for dinner.

A life long ago. A life you could barely remember. You were a small child when the world went to shit, barely starting school, with gaps between your teeth and messy, unruly hair. Still growing out of your sneakers, still biting your nails, still picking up worms from the rich soil with amazement and wonder bubbling in your eyes.

When everything happened, when the buildings were bombed and fields burnt, you were forced to grow up. Forced to toughen up, to be someone you never planned on being at such a young age. You ditched the sparkly backpacks and trips to the library for switch blades and look out towers, for uneasy silence and stale dinners.

Then you met Joel, many years after it first began, and everything seemed a little bit better. It started fast and rough, as though you both thought the world would implode the following morning. And then, when the realization that this was life, that nobody was going anywhere, things grew gentler, softer, more meaningful.

Joel's kisses grew deeper, his touches dragged out for longer, his mouth imprinted upon your soft and lithe skin like droplets of dew on blades of morning grass, gentle and ethereal. His words became breathless, sweet, full of desire and thick with honeyed praise.

"Look at you, such a pretty little thing. Shakin' like this, all for me. Who's makin' you feel like this, sweet girl?" Joel's middle finger was buried to the knuckle in your tight pussy, thumb gently tapping at your clit. A string of saliva strung from your nipple to his lips, where his plush mouth had been covering your hardening bud in gentle bites, sucking like a man on a mission.

"You." Your voice came out as a mewl, quiet and shaking. "You, daddy."

Joel grunted a primordial, brutish grunt that rumbled through the sturdiness of his chest, adding a second finger as his head ducked down to your neck, where his kissing resumed upon the blades of your collarbone. "Good fuckin' girl. Good girl. So fuckin' good, a god damn dream. You know that?"

The wall in front of you was covered in framed images you had found on your travels around Jackson. Some original art you scored in the back of a desolate thrift store, some vintage movie posters you found huddled in the dusty corners of a theatre, some polaroid photos you had taken with old friends.

You blinked the memories of him away.

With each day, you tried to convince yourself it was for the best. With each day, you tried to make yourself understand where he was coming from, why he did the things he did.

"You're just somebody I was fuckin'." You remembered his words like sandpaper grinding against the track of your throat, burning their fiery syllables into your tongue. How true his statement actually was, you weren't so sure.

Joel's forehead was pressed to yours, eyes fluttering open and shut with each deep thrust, hands entwined into your own. Your palms were pressed rigid and unyielding into his, Joel's thick fingers wrapping and molding into your smaller ones, chest rubbing against yours with each masterful movement of his hips.

His hot breath, soaked with the sweet smell of whiskey, fanned across your face, coating you with the ache he felt for you, the love he knew he had growing deep inside for you. Each breath he took was a promise. He was never going to leave you. How could he?

"Joel." You chanted, head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes full of stars.

"What do you want from me, darlin'? Say the word and its yours." Joel's voice was breathless and throaty, coating you in the sweet nectar of his affection, seeping deep into your pores until it filled your soul with yearning,

His cock, thick and veined, was slowly pumping as deep is it possibly could within your walls. You fluttered and ached and wept against him, bodies meshing into one, tight and close yet flowing and gentle, like the Bernini sculptures you saw in an art encyclopedia, a long time ago in Boston. Joel filled you to the brim with his length. You felt full of him, wrapped and wanting and wanton. For his eyes only. Only ever him, always.

"Right there." You begged, nails dragging down the length of his wide, sturdy, strong back, marking him with the love caked beneath your fingernails. That unspoken love that weighed heavy on your shoulders, like a wool blanket in the dead of winter.

When Joel's eyes met yours, hitting against the spot you begged him to touch, he had that gaze glossed over his irises, that heavy, awfully gentle look threaded within the chocolate umber of his orbs, the stare that only a man in love ever carried with him.

The memory stuck to your mind like glue on a school project, drying there with no hopes of ever coming loose.

That night, with Joel so heavy on your mind, you treaded heavily to your record player, sifting through the record's you had collected over the years.

"That'll do." You mumbled with dejected finality, putting the vinyl on the player as you lowered the needle.

Why does the sun keep on shining?

Why does the sea rush to shore?

Don't they know it's the end of the world,

Cause you don't love me, anymore?

As you listened to the sweet voice of Julie London, you looked around your kitchen, the pile of dishes only stacking up, higher and higher. With your hands on your hips you walked over, forcing yourself to do something with your night. You couldn't sit and mope, you had already spent too long doing that anyways.

You let the hot water fall upon the backs of your dainty hands, watching with glass eyes as it fell and dribbled off your fingers, the soapy suds filling the porcelain bowls. You cupped them in your hands, breathing in the citrusy scent, closing your eyes.

Think. You begged yourself. About anything else but him. Think.

Why do the birds go on singing?

Why do the stars glow above?

Don't they know it's the end of the world,

it ended when I lost your love.

You pricked the tip of your finger with the sharp point of the butcher knife, gently twisting it soft enough to only make the hint of an imprint, thinking to yourself. You had lived your entire life fighting, fleeing, hiding, escaping, yet it only ever felt like the end of the world once you lost him.

"Damn you Julie London!" You shouted, voice mellow dramatic and emotive, face planting into your arm which rested on the wooden counter.

"What'd Julie London ever do to you?"

The voice, raw and rough, startled you, awakening you from your trance. Before you could catch it, a puppy like yelp escaped your mouth, sharp and nasty against the ears.

You knew who that voice belonged to. The voice that lulled you to sleep, the voice that whispered sweet nothings as you lay naked and bare on linen sheets, the voice that called you good girl and sweet angel and pretty princess whilst crammed deep into your cunt.

Joel.

Turning so hard you nearly snapped your own neck, you saw him standing in the doorway of your home, tall and brooding, filling the heavy air with the familiar scent of pine needles and bergamot. He held a basket in his arms. A basket he had bought from your shop, many moons ago.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Your voice was nastier than you meant it to be, but you couldn’t help the emotion rising within the confines of your chest, beating at your ribcage like a wild animal locked in a zoo.

“I did knock. You didn’t answer. Took the liberty to walk on in and check on you.” He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, and slowly shut the door behind him.

“To check on me?” You scoffed bitterly, turning your back to him again as you resumed your cleaning. You heard the vinyl come to a stop, the air silent and palpable, moulding to your rage. You took in a deep breath, looking down at the sponge you were grasping ahold of a little too tight. “Two months go by, and suddenly today- of all days- you decide to take the liberty to come and…. check on me?”

Joel’s sigh, burdened with what felt like guilt, swirled through your ears. “Yes.” Was all he said, simple and plain.

Oh, you had a lot more to say than one meager word.

You were too nervous to meet his gaze, too worried your tears would come flooding, soaking through your skin and deteriorating until you were nothing more than a puddle of nothing on the wooden floorboards.

“I….” You struggled for a long moment, tongue twisted and stuck in your own throat. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”

You heard the sound of dense boots against the ground, felt the weight of the air behind you shift. He was close. His scent was coated around the inside of your nostrils, fogging your mind with past memories you swore you’d never ponder on again.

“I know what you want to say.” Joel’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper in the wind. “That you hate me. That you never want to see me again. That you hope I’m ripped limb from limb by clickers. Gunned down by raiders.”

Tears welled within your eyes. You didn’t speak for a long beat, sniffling as quietly as you could possibly muster. “After everything, you know I-…. even after you broke me. I-I don’t wish for that. Never even thought of that.” You admitted your terrible secret with a shaking voice, hand tightening so deeply around the sponge, your middle finger sunk straight through the material.

Joel’s fingers gently traced down the small of your back. An offer. You heard a gentle thump as he set the basket down, followed by his other hand pressing flat into your side.

“I’m scared.” His voice was full of emotion you had never once heard from him. “That’s why I left.”

“What?”

“I’ve lost everyone, ‘cept Ellie. Tess, Bill, Frank, Sarah.” His voice cracked, trailing off. “I couldn’t lose you, too. I can’t watch you…. can’t watch you fall victim to this world.”

You shook your head, dropping the sponge against the metal sink, tilting your head to look out the window which stood in front of you. The night sky was sparkling with millions of stars before you, snow flaking down from the heavens, coating the glass window pane with a copious layer of delicate snowflakes, each so different and unique. It was beautiful.

Joel’s left arm slowly wrapped around you. You wanted to fight him off, wanted to scream and banish him from your home, wanted to promise if you ever saw him again you’d kill him on the spot. But you couldn’t. Not when he was so vulnerable, so warm, so willing.

You shifted against him, leaning back until your bodies were close together. His hand rested taut against your belly, his other arm soon finding solace beneath your shirt, pulling you even closer.

“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the dizzying silence, chin nuzzling into the blade of your shoulder. “I didn’t know what else to do. I- I still don’t know what to do.”

You blinked away new forming tears, taking in a deep breath. “You could start by warming me up.” You were so meek, you were unsure if he heard your words.

Joel’s hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, pressing gently into the skin of your tummy, fingers massaging into the supple skin of your waist, your love handles, drawing circles into the line of skin right above the hem of your pants. Your back fell deeper into his chest as he touched you, felt you, as if he had never known your body before.

You could stand there and argue with him, cry and rage and scream at the universe, or you could let him apologize the best way he knew, let him make it all up to you.

“After this,” you managed to choke out, “am I still going to be somebody you just fuck?”

He wasted no time shaking his head. “You never were. You were, are, the light of my life. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His breath was hot against your neck, his lips pressing kisses, scattered like constellations, into your skin.

“You weren’t thinking.” You moaned a breathless laugh, head tilting to allow him access.

“No, I wasn’t.” Joel’s fingers slipped into your pants, palm cupping your pussy, hot and wet with the promise of his touches. “Damn baby, this horny already?”

“Haven’t been touched in two months. Sure you understand.”

He chuckled a deep, endearing chuckle, nudging his nose into your cheek. “Think I should do somethin’ about this?”

You nodded quickly.

“Words, pretty baby. Use your words.”

“Yes. Please, do… do something about it.”

“That’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you want, I promise.”

You felt butterflies brewing within your belly as his middle finger traced the middle of your green cotton underwear, rubbing where you swollen clit gently poked against. He knew you like the back of his hand, like a map he had spent years memorizing. Giving you pleasure, knowing where and how to make you cum, had become second nature for Joel.

“Don’t be ‘fraid to lean against me. Let daddy take care of you.”You groaned softly at his words, falling back into his body. His strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you up, bicep thick and muscled against you. “Push those down for me.”

You wiggled out of your pants and underwear, bottom half open and exposed for him. His fingers dragged across your mound, brushing against the outside of your pussy that cried out for his touch.

Joel slipped his index finger between your outer lips, finding your clit, slowly drawing circles around your aching bud. You sighed out, once again meshing in to his chest as he touched you, feeling the silkiness of your pink, throbbing cunt.

“I missed this pussy. So wet for me, so needy. You like it when I touch you? Like it when I make you feel good?” His words were hot in your ear, melting into your senses like dripping candle wax.

“Oh, I love it. I love it so much. I love you so much.” You were too caught up in pleasure to understand the weight of what you just said, head rolling against his shoulder as he teased your pussy.

Joel let out a quiet moan at what you just admitted, his hold on you tightening. He was never going to let you go. He sunk his middle finger into your tight opening, slowly hooking it against you G-spot, thrusting it up and down the way he knew made you cry for him.

Your knees were shaking, yet you had no fear of falling. As foolish as it may have been, you had complete trust in Joel Miller. You knew he wouldn’t let you drop. Your walls fluttered around his finger, clit begging to be touched once more. You lowered your hand, gently flicking at your swelling button, moaning out as he added his ring finger to your cunt.

“That’s it baby. Rub that pretty pussy. Cum on my fingers.” Joel whispered m, gently biting down on your ear lobe.

You felt your thighs quivering, belly tightening as your orgasm drew closer. Joel watched you with hawk like vision, relishing in the way your fingers traced and danced across your clit. Before you had the chance to announce your climax, you found yourself cumming on his digits, coating them in you sweet, slick arousal, screaming his name as thought it was the only word you ever had the chance to memorize.

When you came down from your high, Joel slowly removed his fingers, bringing them to your soft lips. “Suck.” He commanded gently. You did, wrapping your mouth around them as you gingerly took them in, all the way to the hilt, sucking them clean and dry, free from any of your cum. “That’s my good girl, my pretty darlin’.”

You shivered against him, your head falling back. Joel gently tapped the counter. “Jump up there.” He whispered.

You did as you were told, grabbing the collar of his flannel, pulling him closer.

“Kiss me, Joel Miller.”

And kiss you he did.

His lips found yours with the passion of ten thousand soldiers, sickly sweet and supple against your mouth. Joel was consuming you with this kiss, torridly leaving his mark into the soft ridges of your pouted lips, blanketing you with the desire he had for you that he so often tried to push down. Your fingers found his graying hair, legs wrapping around his waist until the bulge breaking at his jeans was pressed right into your bare pussy.

You grinded against him, clit still sensitive and aching from the power of your last orgasm. Still, you dropped your hands to his zipper, tugging them down swiftly.

“Want you to fuck me.” You whispered against his mouth, tongue sliding across his. “Want you to cum inside me. Make me yours.”

“You’ve always been mine.” Joel muttered, hand slipping down to remove his boxers. “I was just bein’ an idiot.”

“Then make it up to me.”

The tip of his cock found the slick lips of your pussy, and he slowly pushed himself in through on graceful movement, filling you to the top until your clit was pressed against his stomach. Joel felt your pussy clench against him, and he groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder. He sat there for a moment, relishing in the warmth being inside of you provided, arms wrapped around you like a belt, pressing you hard into his chest.

You gently placed your hands on the back of his head, pulling away to look at him. Tracing over his features, you took every inch of him in. That Aquiline nose you had grown to love so much, the patchy beard littered with charming speckles of silver, that stray curl in the middle of his forehead that never stayed put. Joel Miller was beautiful. He was an enigma of a man. Stoic, masculine, tender, intuitive, full of emotions and worlds unknown to everyone. Everyone but you. He was a crazy, deep, beautiful paradox of a human, and he was all for you.

Joel slowly pushed out from you, before pumping himself back in. He did this a few more times, his eyes never straying from your own. His fingers slipped to your clit, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb against it.

“Think you can cum on my cock?”

You nodded.

A smile lifted the right corner of his mouth. “Tha’s what I like to hear.” He leaned down, kissing you again as he began fucking you, deep and slow, each move methodical and well planned, as if he knew just what he wanted to do to your body.

Your hands fell to his broad shoulders. His broad shoulders. That alone could have made you cum. The tanned slope of his beautiful, beautiful shoulders, collarbones thick and jutted out just right, followed by patchy chest hair, down to his soft belly that pressed into yours so perfectly. He was beautiful. You traced your fingers down the trail of his biceps, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, straight to his wrists, lacing with his long, skilled, well worked fingers, palm rough and calloused, tough as leather against the softness of your sweet, smooth hands.

You drunk his figure in like a lovesick fool. Oh, you were, weren't you? So full of love and affection for this brute of a man, well aware he struggled with his emotions. You watched the crows feet by his eyes crinkle as he clamped his eyes shut, watched the line of his neck pulse as he threw his neck back in pleasure.

He was a Baroque portrait of lust standing before you, dark and brooding, thrusting into your cunt as if it were the sweetest thing in the world for him. He growled into the air with each pump of his hips, nails digging into your skin as he held you close, never to let go.

"Joel." You whispered softly, burying your face in his chest as your second orgasm fast approached. You weren't sure why you said his name, not sure what you wanted exactly, but Joel knew. He always knew. He just cradled the back of your head with his right hand, his other gripping ahold of your waist, pounding faster, deeper, harder, hungrier. You were all he wanted, all he ever wanted, all he ever needed.

Joel bit down onto your shoulder softly as he twitched inside you, and you knew his orgasm was soon to come. He kept the same pace on your clit until you were putty in his hands, legs tightening as pleasure washed over you. You both came in harmony, moans mixing and melding into the air which surrounded you. His cock painted your walls with thick, hot ropes of white, and your tightening walls milked every last lick of it out as your came hard, head dizzy with thoughts of him.

He whispered your name softly as he slowed to a stop, pillowing you against his body. "God, I missed you."

You nodded in agreement, sticky skin pressed together like two puzzle pieces. "I missed you." You pulled away, holding on to him for support as you slowly stepped off the counter. You gently pressed your palm into his chest, feeling his cum dribbling down your thigh. You smiled softly at the feeling before glancing up at him. "More than you know."

Joel gently ran his palm down your back as you slipped your underwear on, quickly following suit.

"What's in the basket?" You asked, pointing to the item he left alone on the living room rug.

"Oh. It was s'posed to be a peace offerin'. Makin' up with you was easier than I thought." Joel joked, and you gently slapped his shoulder.

"Whatever." You giggled, walking over to the present.

Inside were some paintings Ellie had made you that Joel never had the courage to send before, some sprigs of dried herbs they were growing in their back yard, some handmade goats soap from a lady down the street, and a long, narrow velvet box. You picked it up slowly, turning to look at him.

"Now if you don't like that I might as well go out and die in the woods. Took me fuckin' weeks to find." Joel admitted, rubbing his neck nervously. "I remember you sayin' you wanted one of them."

You slowly opened it, met with a shimmering string of pearls. A necklace. A necklace you had spent your whole life yearning for. Your lips parted with surprise. "I-I've never seen one in person. Only in those old magazines they had back at QZ."

Joel walked towards you, nodding a bit. "Spent a whole weekend with Tommy, all the way in Cheyenne. Almost got me killed." He chuckled, hands falling to your hips.

"Oh, Joel. It's beautiful. It's.... I've never seen something like this before." You whispered earnestly, gently sweeping your hair up. "Put it on me?"

He smiled a soft, rare smile, gingerly clipping it around your neck. He took a step back, admiring you, soaking you in, memorizing the way it looked on you. "Yeah, that was worth the trouble."

You smiled happily, falling into his arms. He held you tightly to his chest, fingers sweeping through your locks of hair. "By the way..." Joel murmured into your head, pulling away slowly as his fingers found your chin. Your eyes met in a searing gaze, full of summertime warmth that fell over you like golden sunlight. He stared at you long and hard, and you saw something like tears gloss over his gaze.

And when he spoke, his voice was calm, steady, devout:

"I love you, too."

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k4marina · 10 months

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too far in || j.r

for that anon that requested this, i like the way you think. ;)

synopsis: just a snippet of your relationship with the joker

warnings: joker (bc he deserves his own warning), sexual/suggestive themes, angst ig, my spelling probably.

fem!reader x joker

you really couldn't pinpoint when or how it started. it's almost as if he'd always been there; by your side in your bed. you knew it was wrong. having these.. relations with gothams most wanted was a sure way of having either gcpd on your front door or batman, and if the time came you hoped it was the former.

tonights no exception either. it's late, way past anyones bedtime. you're in your bed, sleeping after a long day of work when you felt the bed dip. something that always left you mesmerized was how he never made a sound. you'd only know he was there if he wanted it to be known, otherwise he would just blend into the shadows.

no words are exchanged, you don't need too. you both know what he wants and you have not problem giving it to him after all, you want it too.

he slips in you so easily like all the other times. his cut and callused hands sending shivers throughout your body, jagged nails gripping onto your flesh.

his hips are rutting into yours, leaving you breathless. depending on the time of night or on how much energy you both had it was either slow and somewhat meaningful or crude and animalistic, you just couldn't decide which one you'd prefer.

the only sounds he would make would be low groans and pants or the occasional dirty talk or instructions, never being one to make useless chit-chat, "that's it baby, right there," "what a filthy cunt, just taking my cock in" "imagine what people would say if they found out what we were doing."

you on the other hand were left hot and bothered. moaning whenever he'd hit that right spot, whimpering when his nails or sometimes teeth would clamp down on you, whining every time he'd finish and leave you empty.

when you wake up he's never there, but you know that he was by the smears of red and black grease paint on the pillow next to you. you'd push down the hurt you'd feel in your chest. it's okay. it's for the better. anything more or with him and your life is basically ruined.

but you knew, you were far too deep into him.

#dc x y/n #dc x reader #dc joker #dc fic #heath ledger joker #joaquin phoenix joker #jared leto joker #the joker #arkham origins #arkham asylum #p5 joker #batjokes #joker x y/n #joker x reader #joker fanfiction #joker smut #joker angst #k4marinafics

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sataraxia · 10 months

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jerk.

earth42!miles x fem!reader

summary: you haven't heard about him for a whole week, what a 'jerk'. (wc: 3.9 k, kinda short and a dumb blurb)

warnings: cursing, a kind of suggestive? line at the end.

a/n: it's the first time i publish something so maybe it's kinda bad idk, and also this isn't angst miles is actually the best man ever pls i just wanna hug him. aand english isn't my first language so pls pls let me know if i spelled something wrong!

"I heard that kiki was invited to prom in the most romantic way possible, I'm so jealous."

"oh god, yeah, I wish I had a boyfriend like hers, or well, just a boyfriend".

You were biting your nails right now, looking everywhere but at your friends, what a topic, huh?

“hey, your boyfriend already invited you?”

And there was the question, you just looked lazily at them “uh, sure”

The truth was that you hadn't been talking to Miles for a week or so, and this was exactly why.

You always understood that maybe he didn't like a lot of things about high school, and you never complained about it, but this time, it was something important to you, and he didn't seem to care.

"baby, it's just a dance, I don't understand why you're acting like it's such a big deal." he said while not even looking at your direction.

"maybe it's a big deal that you're being a jerk about this."

Yeah, that conversation didn't end well, you haven't heard from him since.

The thing was, you don't do a lot of couple things publicly, and it's slowly starting to affect your mind, maybe he didn't want to be seen with you, or someone couldn't see him with you, the thought alone causing you to shiver.

You spent the rest of the day distracting yourself with your friends and your homework, secretly waiting for a message from him to appear on your phone.

It did, but definitely not what you expected.

miles <4: 'i’m back in town, wyd?'

Oh.

You didn't know whether to be happy that he wasn't ignoring you, or angry that he didn't give the last discussion more than a thought.

You decided not to let it go this time, and not even look at the text.

Of course, that was stupid, but so were you.

It wasn't more than two hours, he was already knocking on your window, and once you let him in, he just looked at you, deeply.

“wanna’ tell me what’s up with you, darling?”

That was not affectionate, he was annoyed, mocking, you realize.

“nothing.” you couldn’t look at him when you were lying, he knew that.

“i thought you were the one who opted for that communication bullshit, cmon.”

“where were you?”

“work” the tone was defensive, almost secretive, it was always like that when he mentioned something about the prowler, you never talked a lot about it.

“you could have told me”

“thought you didn't want a jerk talking to you?”

“yeah, but you’re still my boyfriend, Miles, we argued, and I didn't hear about you for a whole week.”

“sorry.”

That's what made your veins boil the most, he was never mean, disrespectful, or a jerk.

He always knew when to say sorry or when he had done the wrong thing, that meant he didn't really care about the problem that kept popping into your head, he didn't see it like a problem at all.

And that only made you feel dumber, maybe you were overreacting, again.

“it’s okay, i just missed you”

That's all you had to say for him to look at you with those eyes that made you feel like the most special woman on earth, that made any insecurity disappear just as the space between your bodies did.

“i missed you too.”

Of course, he stayed the whole night with you.

The next afternoon, when you entered your room, you saw a package on your bed, with a note on top of it

“I couldn't go to prom if my girl wasn't wearing my color, be at your door by eight o'clock.

luv ya, miles.”

Inside the package was a beautiful dress, vibrant purple, obviously.

This was definitely the man of your dreams.

+bonus:

Eight o'clock, and he was with his motorcycle at your door.

"you are breathtaking, love" he said and you approached him to give him just a little kiss, while smiling.

"thanks for all this, but I thought it wasn't a big deal?" a smirk adorned your face.

"it was a big deal if you were calling me a jerk about it" you grabbed his waist as you settled on the bike.

"sorry about that." a little peck on the cheek.

"you'll have time to apologize to me, don't worry:"

#writing #writers on tumblr #oneshots #across the spiderverse #miles g morales #miles morales #miles 42 #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales fluff #earth 42 miles morales x reader #the prowler #miles the prowler #miles morales x y/n #sataraxia

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lovebelphie · 5 months

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋

featuring - lucifer/satan, asmodeus/solomon, beelzebub/belphegor

ꨄ synopsis: they realized their feelings a little too late for you and learn you’re with another.

content warnings: nsfw with (major?)angst, female reader, standing up sex, public sex (in the hol library), marking, oral sex (fem receiving), doggystyle, heavily implied established relationships, unrequited love essentially

side-note: quite angsty and cruel in a sense, but who doesn’t love a little betrayal essentially(?) anyways, enjoy lovelies!

-`♡´- 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 — ft. 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐧

sometimes it was like lucifer was a little too stubborn. especially when he shouldn’t be. for some reason, he never could accept the fact he had feelings for you. it was like admitting he liked you more than just someone he was close to and trusted was a crime.

and it was his stubbornness that would be his downfall in this case. he had been looking for you in hoping to talk to you. he’d been busy with council duties he’d barely seen you.

plus his time away from you was making him realize maybe it was time to come to terms with his feelings. only for it to be too late. as he was walking by the house library he noticed there was light from the fireplace. which seemed odd.

until he heard what sounded like a moan coming from the room. the doors were slight ajar and he couldn’t help but glance through. only he immediately wished he hadn’t in that moment.

you were pressed up against the shelves, your legs wrapped around satan’s waist as he pounded into you. his thrusts causing the shelf behind you to rattle. your moans rang through the room as you clung onto him, “fuck, you’re extra tight, kitten.”

lucifer could feel his heart break, not realizing how much something like this would hurt. especially when he caught view of the bitemark on your neck, satan purposely traced with his tongue as he had you bouncing on his cock for him.

-`♡´- 𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 — ft. 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧

for some reason asmo denied having feelings for you. he flirted with you all the way, to the point of being a bit too touchy with you. except he was like that was everyone, you couldn’t be any special. he insisted there was nothing there between the two of you.

though because of his thoughts, he had been somewhat avoiding spending time with you. he hardly saw you but still flirted whenever he did and it was only brief.

yet as he walked down the hallway, you were on his mind. he was getting close to passing your room and felt the urge to check in on you and see you for a bit. he had heard that solomon was helping tutor you with some of the spells they were learning.

except as he reached your room, he heard noise. easily picking up what he knew for sure were moans. not to mention the clear sound of your bed creaking as well. it made his heart drop.

still somehow he compelled himself to open the door and his heart broke at the scene before him.

you were on your hands and knees, your face pressed into a pillow as you sobbed while solomon pounded into you front behind. the loud slapping of skin ringing in his ears as he heard you crying out solomon’s name. “fuck, you love when i’m pounding you from behind don’t you, princess.” solomon growled, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips as he thrusted harshly into you.

for some reason asmo still had hope. maybe it was a hookup, after all he had meaningless flings but he was quickly proven wrong. he saw the way you looked back at solomon. the way he kissed you and murmured a sweet, ‘i love you.’ was the final nail in his coffin.

-`♡´- 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁 — ft. 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫

there were plenty moments were beel seemed blind to his feelings for you. just the way he talked about you was sweet but he would say it with an ending of being just friends. despite him clearly desiring more than just friendship.

he didn’t know how to go about his feelings, barely aware he viewed you romantically. romance wasn’t something he desired but with you, that became a different story. he just didn’t know how to act.

which was why he hardly treated you any different or exposed clear interest like how he often did when it came to food or eating. he just didn’t know, and because he was so confused he spent time away from you. trying to understand what he wanted, did he really want you romantically?

he had been going to see you and belphie who he heard were in the attic. he had been hoping to also talk to you about his feelings with the possible support of his brother belphie by his side.

except while reaching the top of the stairs, he heard noise and a weird slurping sound. he came to a halt by the door, peeking inside only for his eyes to widen and his poor heart to break.

he saw belphie in between your legs, eagerly eating you out while you had your eyes closed and held on his hair. “you taste just so sweet every time i devour you. do you like me tongue on your pussy~?” belphie’s words teasing yet his hands tracing along your thighs were loving. gently squeezing them as he sucked on your folds and made you throw your head back into the pile of pillows.

beel was frozen in place hearing the girl he loved, screaming his twin brother’s name. it hurt even more when he saw the way belphie’s hand reached up to grab yours, intertwining your fingers together.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmo #obey me solomon #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me x reader smut #obey me x female reader

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7s3ven · 2 months

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ALL I WANTED WAS YOU. luke (pjo)

( master list ) - soulmate au

IN WHICH… Two opposites fall in love and where one sees an anchor, the other sees jail bars. And eventually, the pair must ask themselves, is this really worth destroying ourselves over?

“All I wanted was you.”

Warnings : Implied sex, spoilers, angst, a bit of gore

A/N : this fic is my Roman Empire

—

Ever since Luke had discovered the concept of soulmates, he had hated it. Why not let people decide who they wanted to love? Most people didn’t follow the laws of fated partners anymore, but those who did always ended up hurt.

Luke still had yet to meet his. He often stared into the mirror, his gaze trailing over his soulmate mark below his ear that looked more like a tattoo in his opinion. He was never interested in it before, even going as far as to try and harshly scrub it off. But ever since he arrived at Camp Half-Blood, he had been staring at it nonstop.

It stung and burned sometimes, probably a good sign to most but a bad one to Luke. It meant that your soulmate was close.

Stumbling into them was inevitable but Luke did all he could to avoid them, whoever they were. And then finally, the day Luke dreaded arrived. It was a new Aphrodite girl who shared Luke’s tattoo. His heart sank as soon as he spotted it adorning her neck.

Was it the commitment that scared him? Probably. Luke had never witnessed a healthy relationship, something that was impossible when you were a demigod surrounded by unfaithful deities.

And yet, Luke continued to hide from both her and from the soulmate connection. The more he ducked under heavy vegetation for cover, the more he noticed about her. How she loved to dive into the lake to collect perfect pearls. And how she always wore the same necklace her younger sibling had given to her the day of her arrival.

Luke found himself admiring her and while his brain tried to say no, his heart gravitated towards her. In a short span of time, Y/N had successfully captured him within her charming spell. It’s not like she was trying to anyway.

Weeks later, Luke finally had the courage to approach her. He started off with small talk and if Y/N felt the same stinging sensation in her mark as Luke, she didn’t comment on it. It felt like months until they finally acknowledged they were soulmates and while Y/N was overjoyed, Luke had to take a step back.

He resorted to standing in front of the lake, skipping smooth stones along the surface of the water.

“Luke?” A voice called out. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. He could instantly tell when his heart skipped a beat.

“Y/N. Hey.” He quietly greeted her, skipping another pebble into the water.

“Are you okay?” She questioned, stepping closer to Luke who wanted nothing more than to be away from her. She was a sweet girl but Luke felt suffocated in her affectionate presence.

“I’m okay.” He skilfully lied through his teeth, causing Y/N to smile.

“I was just making sure. You were in a rush to get away from sword training, which is usually your favourite.”

Luke could smell her soft floral perfume now. It engulfed him, making it hard to breathe. Or was it his imagination? Nevertheless, Y/N noticed his furrowed brows.

“Are you sure everything’s alright, Luke?” She gently questioned, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his torso. Luke went stiff for a second before he forced himself to relax. Y/N’s perfectly manicured nails dipped under his shirt and trailed across his back. It should have felt calming but instead it felt like sharp claws dragging across his skin, slitting his flesh open and letting blood ooze out.

Luke didn’t know he was holding his breath until Y/N pulled away. If she acknowledged his strange behaviour, she still said nothing. That was what she always did. No matter how Luke acted, she remained silent, not wanting to ruin the fragile relationship they had. If it was even considered that.

It was clear in that moment that Luke struggled with abandonment while Y/N suffered from getting attached too easily. Luke swallowed his protest as Y/N drew out the already long hug, not wanting to upset her.

When Y/N finally pulled away, Luke held her hands in his. They were soft with lotion and yet Luke could feel rust beginning to set into the cold handcuffs that bound him to her.

“People say I feel like sandpaper.” Y/N uttered as Luke enjoyed the feeling of her warm hands against his, even if it was for a minute before his dread kicked in as it always did. “So I make my hands gentle with lotion.”

Luke silently nodded before he let go of Y/N’s fingers.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” He put on a fake smile just for her and Y/N slipped away, giggling under her breath. It gave Luke a moment to catch his breath. And then the thoughts came. The dark, impulsive ideas that swirled around in his mind until he could only focus on them.

She’ll be happy if I leave.

She’ll find someone else.

She won’t agree to come with me… will she?

Even if Y/N was willing to follow him into hell, Luke wouldn’t let her. He didn’t want her to throw away her life as well simply to please him.

Luke had always been told he had to learn not to run away so he stayed put, knowing it would only increase the risk of Y/N becoming more attached to him. Thus making his acts of betrayal harder to swallow.

Evening came and the sun dipped below the bright green hills. Luke arrived late to dinner, already finding a plate of steaming food sitting next to Chris. There was the small outline of a heart next to his food and Luke already knew what that meant. Y/N had taken the liberty of her time to care for a boy who couldn’t care for her back.

Nevertheless, Luke sat next to his friend and ate in silence. Occasionally, his gaze would flicker to Y/N, who was already staring at him like a hawk.

Luke should have blushed. Anyone else would have if a gorgeous girl was looking at them like that. But he saw another thing behind those loving eyes, something monstrous and obsessive. Something no other camper noticed except for him.

Y/N’s pretty tinted lips curved into a happy smile and while outsiders to their complicated relationship saw a joyful girl, Luke saw the one person keeping him chained to camp. He would have left Annabeth without hesitation if he had to but something about Y/N kept him grounded and held him back.

It would only be a few more days until Luke’s master plan created chaos between the gods and their children, giving Luke the perfect opportunity to slip away. At least, it should have been the perfect chance if it weren’t for Y/N. No matter what Luke did, his mind couldn’t fathom the thought of leaving her behind.

He suspected it was the soulmate connect.

Luke had barely finished his dinner before he suddenly stood up and walked over to Y/N, who was chatting with her siblings. He tapped her shoulder, immediately gaining her full attention. She stared up at him with doe eyes and slightly pouted lips, causing Luke’s heart to jolt.

“Follow me.” Luke quietly uttered, not wanting to freak Y/N out with the infamous words we need to talk.

Y/N trailed after him like a lost puppy as he led her to his empty cabin. He shut the door behind him, locking it for good measures. He wanted to give Y/N something warm to remember him by instead of only recalling his cold and distant nature.

So he kissed her. And she, to nobody’s surprise, swiftly kissed back. Y/N took careful steps towards Luke’s bed, her lips still locked with his. The back of her legs hit his mattress and she fell onto it, bouncing slightly as the springs loudly squeaked.

“Are you sure?” She murmured. She wasn’t stupid. Y/N could see Luke adjusting his pants and unzipping them when he thought she wasn’t looking. Luke nodded his bed as he cupped her face in his large hands, trying to memorise her beautiful features before he left.

Luke pressed his lips to Y/N’s once more. Unlike her usually warm body, her lips were cold and unwelcoming like the jail bars that enclosed Luke. But he pushed on, relentless as he tried to chase every teenage thing he had missed in one night.

His first kiss.

His first time.

His first love whom he was starting to grow feelings for, and that scared him.

Every sound and whisper Y/N made drove Luke mad. This time, as her hands touched his back, he could feel her nails dig into his skin, scratching neat lines down.

Y/N fell asleep before him. The other kids had yet to return from dinner, as there was a campfire happening now, so Luke quickly washed himself off in the shower reserved for camp counsellors. He dampened a cloth, running it over Y/N’s body as she peacefully tossed and turned, mistaking a pillow for Luke and snuggling into it.

Luke watched with a sort of fondness before he snapped himself back to reality. He grabbed a glass of water that he had already prepared and, with a quick gesture, dropped a few sleeping pills into the cooled liquid.

He sat Y/N up and carefully tipped the cup against her mouth, watching as she swallowed every last drop while she was still unconscious. Her body drooped in his arms, the pills taking effect immediately.

Luke held her for a few seconds, enjoying the peaceful silence that now fell upon the cabin.

“Sorry, Y/N.” He muttered as he brought her back to the Aphrodite cabin and tucked her into bed, hoping she would still be asleep by the time he left.

As Luke predicted, the camp fell into chaos. The cabins took sides as Annabeth, Percy, and Grover had yet to return. It was like a battlefield, every person for themselves. Luke watched the discord unfold, knowing he was at the sole heart of it.

Y/N was still asleep by the time Percy arrived back at camp, which concerned most of her siblings. She had been moved to the infirmary and the Apollo kids brushed her case off as a small overdose that she’d recover from eventually.

“You knew Clarisse didn't steal the bolt… You did.” Percy’s eyes widened. This was the moment Luke had been working towards. For Percy to finally realize who as a friend and who was an enemy. His reaction to all this would determine what Percy was to Luke. “You worked with Ares to plant it on me so when the shoes you gave me pulled me down into Tartarus, the bolt would be delivered right to Kronos.

“I didn’t think you’d give ‘em to Grover to wear.” Luke sighed, “I am your friend. Percy, none of this was meant to betray you. The Gods are my enemies.”

“You…” Percy couldn’t choke out another word as he stumbled back, unable to belief his first friend at camp had been the mastermind behind all this.

“I’m here to recruit.” Luke grinned in a way that unsettled Percy.

“I don't wanna fight.” Luke muttered, “This is what I wanted to show you. This... is our way out. Way out of what? Camp. And their control.” Behind Luke, a portal appeared. “Backbiter can open secret doors. We can stay on the run as long as it takes.”

“Stop saying we.” Percy snapped. He wanted no part in Luke’s little game with Kronos.

“It's the word Zeus fears the most. The gods want us to fight for them, worship them, fear them. And they couldn't care less what we want. They're bad parents, Percy. And they've gotten away with it for far too long.”

Luke had a point there but Percy still wildly shook his head. “No. This isn't you. This is Kronos. He got to you.”

“No, he opened my eyes to the truth. A golden age. That's what they called it when he ruled. We're gonna help Kronos bring the Golden Age back. Stealing the bolt and the helm was easy. For what comes next... we're gonna need all the help we can get.”

Their swords clashed against one another, sparks flying everywhere.

Percy panted as he spoke, “Our parents aren't perfect, but they're trying their best. I met your dad. But he...“

At the mentioning of Hermes, there was a new type of anger flashing in Luke’s eyes. He grunted as he swung his weapon at Percy. “You did get better.” He heaved.

The portal thrummed again, reminding Luke that he didn’t have much time left. “Last chance.” He warned Percy.

The blond boy didn’t respond. He blocked one of Luke’s blows, accidentally cutting the brunette’s cheek. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Percy was quick to apologise as if it were a simple sparring session.

Luke was ready to swing back at Percy harder until he heard the sound of twigs snapping. Annabeth revealed herself as she took off her invisible cap.

“Annabeth?” Luke whispered, furrowing his eyebrows. The anger in his gaze was suddenly replaced with remorse and sadness.

Annabeth hesitatingly lifted up her dagger. “I heard everything.”

Luke was about to step into the portal before he heard the sound of Y/N’s voice in the distance. In a desperate, and probably stupid, attempt at making the most of his few moments left, Luke opened another portal and jumped into it.

He immediately crashed into Y/N who held him up by his shoulders.

“Is it true?” She wailed.

Luke could only stare at the ground as his soulmate mark burnt with such intensity that it made him want to shout. “I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster up. Y/N’s emotional sobs racked her body until she let out a small gasp and wiped away her tears.

“I’ll come with you.” She uttered, “You don’t have to be alone. We can leave now!” Y/N grasped Luke’s wrist, tugging him forward. He remained still and unmoving.

“I can’t let you do that for me.” He said. “I won’t let you leave everything you’ve ever known behind for me.”

“But…” Y/N’s bottom lip trembled, “I want to… you have no idea what I would do for you.” Y/N almost pleaded, wanting to prove her complete devotion to Luke.

“I know. You would have walked to the ends of the earth. You would have walked off a cliff. You would have jumped into a pool of fire all for me.”

The tears running down Y/N’s cheeks made Luke feel pity for her. His sympathy towards her soon rotted into apathy as he spoke again. “That’s the problem. You’re willing to loose yourself to find me when I didn’t even know how to find myself. Let alone find another.”

Y/N quietly sniffed.

“The issue isn’t that I don’t know how much you love me… it’s that you love me too much.” Luke told Y/N the words he hadn’t been brave enough to say before.

But Y/N was not willing to back down. “Maybe if you knew how to love me, I wouldn’t have to make up for it with an abundance of myself.” She snapped.

“Maybe you‘re right.” Luke mumbled, unable to look her in the eyes as his ego deflated and he felt weak, like he was a new camper all over again. “Maybe I don’t know how to let you love me and maybe you love me too much and I love you too less.”

Luke slowly stepped away from Y/N. She reached out for him, hoping to grasp him before he slipped away. And she ran after him until he disappeared, his once calming presence slipping away and becoming one with the air.

Y/N kneeled to the ground as she cried. Her heart practically shattered in her chest, feeling like a million needles stabbing into her skin. Her tears felt like poison, stinging the flushed apples of her cheeks until her skin ran raw.

The rejection of a soulmate always hurt the most, both physically and mentally. As Luke said, the people who followed the rules of soulmates always ended up wounded.

Y/N walked away with a newfound awareness about her identity. That her hugs were more suffocating than comforting and no matter how pretty they are, her hands will always resemble cruel talons when grabbing things. Her ‘I love you’s are always said with her finger on the trigger of a gun and her careful kisses leave sore bruises instead of delicate lipstick stains.

Luke emerged from the portal, away from camp and his friends and family, with a newfound sense. His desire for intimacy is more like a repulsion and with every new door he opens, his hands will always tremble on the handle. No matter how pretty the walls are inside, he would always find himself standing next to the fire exit, ready to flee the first chance he gets.

To love a ghost without pouring some of your own essence into their empty and weary bones is an impossible request.

Y/N eventually came to the upsetting conclusion that she should have stayed away from Luke while Luke wished he had found more reasons to stay.

PJO TAG LIST (FULL) : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @jennapancake @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @justanotherkpopstanlol @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @jamesmackreideswife @2hiigh2cry @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303 @luvvfromme @y0urm0m12 @mochi-lover26 @annispamz

#luke castellan #annabeth chase #luke castellan pjo #greek mythology #luke castellan x you #grover underwood #percy jackson series #luke castellan x reader #camp half blood #percy jackson fanfiction #rick riordan #pjo show #pjo season 1 #pjo spoilers #pjo fanfic #pjo fandom #luke pjo #hermes pjo #percy jackson show

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 9

Pairing: Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister!reader

A/N: Giving something new a try here, absolutely terrifying

Warnings: different povs, (Smidge of angst…I think…?)

Word Count: 5,707

-Part 8- -Part 10-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Silver eyes cut to cocoa. “Why not?”

Elain sighs, attention flicking away to the bookcases lining the walls of their home. Nesta had been the main designer, though bits and pieces are still missing—like the fireplace that will be put into the living room while they’re away, specially designed to contain the crackle and pop of logs as they burst upon the fire. Sure, she could have chosen to have a spell wrap it all up, but she enjoys having time away from magic. That small thread leading back to her old life.

“So many reasons,” she answers quietly, scanning the titles. Fatigue laces her shoulders, hands tucking into her lap, playing with the lilac fabric. “She’s just not… She’s not interested, Nesta.” The sharp eyed female sits in silence, staring blankly into the middle distance. Nails press into the arms of the cushioned chair, spine straightening. “She needs help. You heard her argument with Feyre— Has she at least spoken to you about it?”

Elain sighs again, shaking her head, leaning back into the seat. “No. And I’m not asking.”

Nesta studies Elain from across the room, the light half-circles beneath her eyes. She knows how Eris has been visiting the trio in the lower lands—how it strains on her mate, passing onto her. Part of her doesn’t want to push Elain further, noting the distance in her normally bright eyes, but she remembers her own silence. The pressure building in her head, on the cusp of shattering. What a mess she’d been.

“You’re the only one she talks to, Elain,” she says, hands lowering to her lap. “You saw how she shut us out over dinner. If anyone can revive her, it’s going to be you.”

“I know,” she snaps abruptly, eyes cracking open. Shifts in her seat, sitting upright, brining her feet up onto the cushions, tucking up neatly. Exhales heavily. “I know,” she repeats, softer this time, “but I’ve been trying, and she just doesn’t want to do anything. Pushing her won’t work, she’ll just retreat further.”

The two sit in silence, sun streaming in through the large windows, pooling in a golden square of heat upon the carpet. Outside, the roses sway in the breeze, climbing up the sides of the paprika-red bricks.

“And what about Bas?” Nesta asks, quietly.

“What about him?” She answers, still peering up at the bookcase. How many have already been read? “She’s close with him,” Nesta says, “maybe she’s said something to him.”

“How would you have felt if Amren spoke to us?” She asks pointedly, but quietly. “I’ve wanted to ask—either of them—but that’s not the right way to do this. She already keeps her distance from you. Trying to find an in through Bas would just push her further,” Elain argues. “Plus it’s an invasion of privacy,” she murmurs, an afterthought.

“Then what do you suggest,” Nesta asks, silver eyes piercing. “That we just let things continue? She already practically estranged from us.”

“She needs time,” Elain says quietly. “Just give her space. That’s all she wants at the moment.”

“That’s all we’ve been doing, and it’s not working. She hardly even comes to dinners anymore. The last time I saw her was over a months ago—a month,” Nesta mutters softly. Brows pull together, conflict marring her sharp features. “Az says she barely leaves her room up in the House.”

“But that’s where she wants to be, Nesta.”

The silver eyed female shakes her head. “I wanted to be left alone too,” she murmurs, hands tightening. “Maybe she likes being alone up there, but it’s not good. And don’t say she can manage on her own—I know you heard her argument with Feyre.” Nesta shifts in her seat, eyes lowering to the pool of sunshine on the carpet, splitting them apart. “That’s not dealing with anything. She’s just pushing it away.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” Elain says quietly, not meeting her eyes.

“I know what I heard, and I know how I felt. It’s the same thing, she’s just quieter,” Nesta responds. “She always has been.” Elain shifts again, eyes joining Nesta’s in peering at the dazzling pool of sunlight—reflecting off the carpet, illuminating the room with a warm-orange glow.

“You’re suggesting forcing her into a place of discomfort,” Elain says at last. Inhales deeply, then blows it out, raising her fingers to her brow, rubbing lightly. “I needed time and space, too,” she says, almost a whisper. “I needed to be on my own. To have my independence returned. I needed the quiet to recover from the Cauldron.” Hands drag over her face, cool tips of her digits cover her eyes, soothing the ache at the back of her mind—not enough sleep.

Shifts again, straightening, hands returning to her lap. “While you needed someone to reach out.”

“We’ve given her time, and space,” Nesta argues. “Most of the time she has the whole House to herself. None of us bother her up there; she can come and go as she wants. And nothing’s changing.” Elain remains quiet, peering distantly at the carpet, the colour of fox’s fur. Drags her attention away. “If she won’t change, something else needs to,” Nesta says, voice softening again. “It’s not right,” she breathes, “we’re sisters. We grew up together, slept in the same bed, went through the same sufferings. We shouldn’t fall apart now.” Her voice is heavy, tired and worried. Not how she wants to be the day of her departure.

“Why not now?” Elain asks quietly. Silver raises to cocoa, brow raised in question. “I think now makes sense,” she says softly. “There’s no longer a reason for us to stay together.”

“What are you talking about? We’re family, that’s reason enough,” Nesta mutters. Elain shakes her head. “Think about it,” she insists. “Growing up there was nowhere else to go. There was no choice—we’d do what had to be done to live. You were going to marry Tomas, I would marry Graysen, and Feyre would continue looking after father,” she says heavily. “Then Feyre was taken, and eventually so were we. Then came the Cauldron. Then the war hit. Then Briallyn messed things up.”

Elain sighs heavily, closing her eyes for a moment. “We were finally in a spot of peace, and now there’s” —she gestures to Nesta in her state of departure— “this to deal with.” The silver eyed female stiffens, hands shifting in her lap. “For her, there’s no reason to stick together anymore. It’s over, it’s behind us. We don’t need to keep it together.” She swallows, eyes locking with her sister’s, “she’s free to let go.”

Nesta shakes her head, gaze moving to the window. Cassian will be pestering her to get a move on soon—they were supposed to leave an hour ago, but she wanted to wait. “So you don’t want to speak with her, Bas is out of the question, and getting her away from the House is wrong,” she states flatly. “What about Az?”

Elain stiffens for a moment, inhales, then relaxes.

“That’s the worst idea yet,” she sighs, smiling despite herself. “She’s out with Mor today anyway. Let’s just see how that goes.” Nesta turns away, sharp eyes flitting to the clock atop the mantel piece. “Fine. But things need to change.”

————

She’s been leaving her room less and less, coiling tighter and tighter in recent days.

He’s certain that’s entirely to do with the agreement they had come to almost a week ago.

The scent of gardenias flourishes in her wake, touched to the handles of mugs and the hilts of cutlery. She’s even taken to wearing gloves when she deigns to seek food, scurrying through the hallways on what she must think are quiet feet. It seems even the House is reluctant to encourage her reclusive behaviour. Quiet pitter-pats softly padding down hallways, cotton socks tip-toeing along floorboards, fabric fluttering as she whispers between walls.

He’s begun noticing unusual crooks in cutlery—subtly misshapen around the necks of the metal. Often accompanied by a dull warmth, like soft skin fresh from the sun, steadily cooling in dappled shade. Plates are usually clean: washed, dried and returned to the cupboards after use. Very few things are ever out of place once she’s made her bi-daily trips to the kitchen, as if limiting her marks on the space. Keeping her distance, even in the background.

Her sleeping pattern is sufficient for the most part, only occasionally is there no light coming from beneath her door by the time midday strikes. With the days becoming shorter, candlelight frequently flickers in the hallway once night has descended, generally winking out before midnight, though that’s also subject to change.

Why does he always get tasked with chaperoning?

Azriel nods his silent thanks to the House, a hot meal delivered to his desk, pointedly placed atop the book he’s been meaning to read. A habit that had initially been formed three centuries ago—close enough, anyway. Sleep is a rare delight, a luxury he’s rightly denied, often allowing him time to complete more reports, file new orders, map out future movements.

The book had been purchased with these long nights in mind, intended to help relieve the immense stress of managing his work, now manifesting as strain across his wings and back, often finding the trapezius aching, on the verge of cramping up. Supposedly, he would find himself restless, then turn to the novel for comfort, yet it would do nothing to assuage the guilt of not working. He needs to work to protect. He doesn’t need rest as long as he eats well and keeps up with training, pushing himself to the limit in every aspect of his life.

However, despite the self-indulgent purchase, completing these tasks; writing up reports sets him at ease. So long as everything is kept in order and regularly maintained, the fewer cold nights he’ll put himself through. He works to prevent events from tipping into unstoppable motion, to prevent opposing players being caught, finding themselves at the wrong end of his blade.

Those nights are bottomless. Spirals that have no pit, that he doesn’t always manage to escape in time.

There’s one kept away from the light now, slowly dying in the darkness he was born from. A sickness creeping into bones, softening minds to outer incisions. Plying apart willpower with contemptible cruelty.

Stares across at the pile of reports, paper bowing beneath the accumulating weight. Reaches for the first one, pen in hand, poised to take note of any changes mentioned. Steadily working his way through the pile, day draining to dusk, draining to night. Shadows swish and swirl, aimlessly flickering, freely crawling and creeping across the floor in search of things to report on. Catch the faint thumps of soft feet upon floorboards, pouncing on the sound.

Skitter beneath the doorframe, lurking at the threshold as the female figure approaches on pointed toes, tip-tapping over wooden boards, gliding past. Darkness observes dutifully, grabbing at details: lidded eyes, stray hairs loose, rectangular bags hanging regretfully from her forearms—handles biting into soft flesh. Watch as she passes, skirts swishing against brown paper with each step. Not fully present.

She passes by, keeping to the other side of the hall, giving the door an unnecessarily wide berth. Shadowed gaze strains ahead, tilted down to place her steps correctly, heading for her own chambers. Continues along, darkness stalking her steps, making sure she passes before moving to return to their keeper. Observe as she comes to a stop before a chest of drawers, bathed in moonlight. Atop is a large mirror, the frame intricately detailed. The surface is littered with little things: blown-out candles, burnt down incense, stray jewellery, a few lone arrowheads—probably misplaced.

Eyes wonder between the bits and bobs, attention not fully there, forearms marginally lower with the weight of result of her gifts. He keeps them from sneaking inside, discovering the contents. Notes as her gaze lingers on the candles, picking out their reflection in her eyes, moonlight contained within clear glass. Flick up to the mirror, shoulders sloping with fatigue, lips pursing.

Nib scratches across paper as he copies a sentence down, setting the parchment to the side, shadows already having slid the next one to his desk. Still-full plate pushed closer to the centre of his desk, encouraging him to eat. Seven more, he thinks, eyeing the steep stack of reports. Seven more, then I can eat.

Arms shift, evening out the weight of the bags. Relieving pressure from indented flesh as her eyes dart away at last, finished analysing. Skate over the metalwork of the frame, flora sculpted to each corner, in bloom. Rise higher, tracing the pristine blade mounted atop the mirror. Looking how her younger sister does at scenes she likes, the urge to put them onto a canvas itching at her fingertips.

Muscle snaps tight, a flinch zapping against her skin as feet stutter in their stillness. A faint green light sparks from beneath the gloves, teeth sharply clamping together, like the clink of porcelain.

Silence settles, limbs held taut as moments pass. Counting down, plummeting. Arm shifts slightly, then handles snap, the edges of the paper singed. Heart kicks up, lips parting in a choked inhale, lids widening marginally. Bags hit the floor, thudding dully as she winces, cottoned foot stuck out to muffle the sound, teeth clasping her lower lip.

Breathing quickens, shallowing as she hastily fans off her hands, as if cooling the skin before dipping down. Carefully scoops the bags back up into her arms, shoes pulled to her chest as she scuttles away to her own room, not sparing a look back. The smell of sweetened gardenias wafts in her wake, mixing with something smokey—like singed paper.

Pen pauses its movement, nostrils flaring delicately, throat rolling.

Shadows recede from the hallway, coast now clear.

Seconds tick by, before ink is scratched into parchment, resuming his task. A few more, he promises. A few more, then I can eat.

But minutes later, a few having passed, and the next report lies upon his desk, hazel eyes scanning the concise letters. Food untouched.

————

Midday hits, and you’re fidgeting outside the door, hand raised for the handle.

It turns before you get a chance to twist it, harshly stepping back, making room as it swings open.

Silky, golden hair gleams beneath the sunshine, a dazzling smile already in place as warm eyes latch to your own. Something stabs across your chest, and you have to ease a deep breath into your lungs, feigning surprise. “Gosh,” you murmur, a little breathlessly, “you startled me.”

Soft, pillowy lips widen in an even brighter smile, cheeks rounding with laughter as apologies ring from her mouth. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here already,” she smiles, opening the door wider as she steps out. “Hardly anyone in this family is ready on time,” she mutters playfully, as if exchanging a secret. You flush at the murmured tone, the look of playfulness, as if part of an inside joke shared between the two of you. Lips part in a helpless smile, a little shaky around the edges as nervousness burns your throat.

The door clicks shut, and she’s briskly walking down the steps, arm already linked below your own. The pale yellow dress floats about her ankles, heels the colour of golden straw lacing up her feet, the tea-coloured shawl prettily wrapped over deceptively slim arms. She waltzes over the cobbles as if it’s flat ground, the points of her shoes moving as she wills, dodging the dips and cracks as she pulls your with her.

“Is there anywhere you want you visit first?” She asks, steering you down the street, taking a right at the bottom of the front lawn, the sidra peeking between earth-toned buildings. Swallow thickly, finding your voice. “Not really…” you answer—you should have planned this in advance. Why hadn’t that crossed your mind? Clear your throat as you walk together, side by side. “We’re doing this together, right?” You manage, feeling as though your feet are slamming into the cobbles, stumbling over your shoes.

Honey-warm eyes flit to you, sparking with life. “What do you mean by that?” Avert your gaze from her gleaming features, the smooth skin and the perfectly plump lips. “It’s not just… You’re going to be getting things too, right?”

Her smile doesn’t falter for a second. “If that’s what you want, then I’m sure I can find something to spend money on,” she laughs, squeezing your arm lightly in a surprisingly familiar gesture. You manage a tight smile, one you hope looks regular. You’d settle for believable. She laughs again, attention returning to swiftly scanning shop windows, flitting about each front, effortlessly making her way through the street. “We’ll tell Amren it took more convincing than that, won’t we?” She says, again in that intimately secret tone you’re having trouble understanding.

“Amren?” You ask, confused. There was no mention of Amren joining this trip over the dinner. Stomach plumes with anxiety. Would it be too obvious to feign a stomach ache? Mor doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed by your bewilderment. “We had a bet, of sorts. She bet that I’d end up coming home with at least three bags of clothing,” she elaborates. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?” Manage a stiff nod, scrambling to keep up with the conversation, thrown off by the brightness of the sky, how crisp the wind is, how noisy background chatter can be.

“Right,” you say in response.

“Wrong,” Mor corrects, making your skin flush with embarrassment. “I have never once managed. Any less than five and something’s gone wrong.” She smiles at you, then her attention flicks over your head. “What about that one?” She asks, nodding to a store. Turn to peer at the shop fronts—none of them containing books. Throat rolls, scanning again. “Which…one?”

Mor only laughs, already dragging you toward an open door. “Come on, it’ll be fun, I promise,” she smiles. “Besides, you said you wanted me to do some shopping too, right?” Reluctantly nod your head, because yes, you had said that.

Ease a heavy breath, stepping into the large store, filled with clothing, the aisles thankfully wide enough to accommodate multiple bodies without becoming packed.

Beginning the long day.

————

“What about this?” Mor asks pulling out pale yellow dress, a few shades darker than her own. Clear your throat, nodding, “looks nice.” Her eyes sparkle, pushing it onto your hands, “go try it on then!” You blink, peering down at the dress that’s been pushed into your gloved hands. Quickly shake your head, trying to push it back to her. “I thought you meant for yourself,” you hastily clarify.

Rosey lips lift into a charming smile, “I’ve got way too many in yellow and gold. Besides, you said it looks nice, right?”

“Well, yes…”

“Then try it on!” She encourages, nodding toward the changing rooms. But you shake your head, “it’s autumn already, I wouldn’t be able to wear something like this until next summer.”

“Perfect! We can look for a jumper— or cardigan,” she corrects, noting the cozy wooden piece you’ve wrapped yourself in. Already her eyes are scanning the racks for something complimentary.

Shake your head, “really, it’s fine. I have enough.”

Her hands still from sorting through the hangers, fingers pausing, before settling on the wooden pole. “You know you can get things that you want now, right?” She asks gently, gaze resting on the rack. Lick your lips as apprehension builds in your shoulders. “I know I can,” you reply slowly, “I just— I don’t— want anything.” She looks at you then, and you swear you catch something flicking through her gaze, but it’s gone too quickly for you to be sure.

A beat of silence passes, tension coiling your stomach, muscles contracting.

“Okay,” she says at last, softer than before. “It’s not for everyone, I suppose.” Warm-honey eyes flick down to the dress still clutched in your hands, “would you at least try it on? To see what it feels like?” Your lips purse, hesitant to do something so deeply indulgent, but… She’s compromising here. You should respect that. Throat rolls, nodding, “okay.”

The edges of her mouth soften into something that’s not quite a smile, but it’s reassuring. “You’ll look great,” she says, “I’m sure of it.”

————

A few hours have passed, food eaten, Mor trying on clothes here and there. At least ten different items from each shop, and you’re relieved. Relaxed enough that she’s managed to coax you into trying on a few other things here and there. Nothing that would even compare to some of the clothes you’ve seen the others in, but it’s a start. Nothing you would have cared even think about a few years ago. It still makes you a little sick to think of the steep gap in wealth.

What would have happened if Feyre hadn’t killed that wolf?

You’d probably still be there now, dreading the onset of icy winter, the early morning bite of cold that would seep beneath the thin blanket. The dirt and grime beneath nails, skin tacky with dried sweat, hair smelly and matted.

Swallow thickly, moving your gaze around the large shop—another clothing store. Locate Mor in the far corner, having wondered off of your own volition to peer at a pair of earrings, deep blue set in silver. Thumb the empty slots on your ear absently—it would be nice to have some jewellery. Something thin and elegant, not too chunky, but subtle and dainty. Run the pads of your fingers over the cool glass of the pendant at your neck, feeling the reassuring weight.

“See something you like?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, releasing a surprised sound as you snap your attention to the side, Mor having snuck up on silent feet to peer over your shoulder. Inhale deeply, pressing a hand over your chest, feeling the rapid flutter of your heart as you attempt to even out your breaths. Manage to shake you head, “just looking.” Her eyes catch on something, pointing through the glass case, “what about that?” Turn to see what she’s talking about. “The rings?” You ask.

Goodness, rings would be lovely. You’ve see the ones Feyre sometimes wears—silver with slices of gem encrusted along the surface. The ones Rhys sometimes wears—flat, thick bands of sterling, a single one carved into a feather, wrapped around his fifth finger. Then the ones Mor wears, shifting between different metals depending on her mood—todays she’s feeling golden.

“Look at that one,” she gushes, pointing at the band containing a small ruby, polished to perfection. A smile creeps onto your lips of its own accord. “That’s very you,” you say, a hint of a laugh surprising both of you. She nudges you playfully, “I’m more than just red and gold, you know.” Lips part in a more open smile, corners quirking as you hum back, “of course, my mistake. Too few jewels for your taste.”

Mor blinks for a moment, a beat passing, then a ringing laugh spills from her rosey lips, eyes closing for a second to conceal her surprise. Palm coming over her mouth in attempts to muffle the joyous sound. Dip your head in slight embarrassment, a shy smile playing on your mouth as she tries to recompose herself.

“What were you looking at?” She asks once she’s pulled herself back together, golden hair silkily cascading over her shawl as she runs her fingers through the soft mass, sending it spilling in new directions. You shrug, hastily averting your eyes again, head dipping away. “Nothing in particular.”

Mor hums, laughter still bright on her features. Her hand suddenly clasps your forearm, making you tense. “What about that?” She asks, sounding somewhat breathless. Raise your gaze to follow her direction, spotting the dress that’s hung at the end of a pole. “It’s perfect for you,” she says, excited, already pulling you gently toward it. Reluctantly, you follow.

You can tell why she thinks you’ll like it. In terms of practicality, it seems to be excellent, the dress made of a creamy-cocoa coloured wool, looking like it would be soft against your skin. The neckline itself is a gentle v, the curve not too steep, an elegant suggestion instead of blatant showcasing. Both the sleeves and the skirt of the dress are modest, looking like you’d be able to tuck your hands beneath the wool should you become too cold, the hem of the dress nearing the floor.

For the first time that day, you allow Mor to push the dress into your gloved hands, allow her to convince you to try it on, even to convince you it looks nice over your shape. The wool is as soft as it looks, almost sending you to sleep from the warm brush, soothing as it contains your heat, like being swaddled in feather-soft cotton. It’s a little close-fitting around your ribs and stomach, pressing comfortably but not tight—a little too revealing, but it can be hidden by a cardigan or cloak. Spin in a small circle, watching as the skirts flare at your ankles, then falling back against your legs, cosy and soft.

“You look lovely,” Mor says from your side, and you turn to face her, a helpless smile lifting the edges of your mouth. This is something you wouldn’t mind having. It’s warm and practical, comfortable without compromising appearance. There are no intricate details, no sequins or jewels to make it particularly astonishing, just simple and plain. Absolutely perfect.

“Do you want it?” She asks quietly, having moved closer. Throat rolls, gloved fingers running over the wool—how lovely it would be to feel it properly. You do want it, but… “Let me get it,” she says, hand lightly clasping your wrist, turning you toward her. Eyes flick down at the warm wool, taking in its soothing comfort. The redirection is on your tongue, prepared to deny yourself further. “That’s what this whole trip is for,” she reminds, tone quiet. “You like it, don’t you?” She asks, and discomfort squirms beneath your skin—you can’t lie to her.

Her lips part into a wide smile, hands pressing together. “That’s great,” she reassures, “let me get it for you. As a belated present.” Eyes dip lower, pressing into the floorboard, brows tightening ever so slightly. This isn’t something you need…

You can’t quite bring yourself to look at her as your head dips. “Okay…”

You feel more than see the air shift, brightening as she eases a breath out, smile widening into sunshine. “Perfect!” She signs, “I was beginning to doubt we’d find anything.” You manage a tight smile, still unable to go fully look at her, but—it’s going to be yours. How long has it been since you’d been in a situation where you were allowed to pick something you liked, instead of a hand-me-down?

Naturally almost an entire new wardrobe had been offered upon your initial transportation here, but those were plain in a different way. The idea of having a cupboard full of clothes explicitly for yourself seems wildly indulgent, bordering on selfish. What could one person possibly need so many clothes for? Yet the way the wool sits soft against your skin has you beginning to understand the want, why it’s so important to some people. Throat rolls, touching gloved hands to your waist, feeling the wrap of warmth around your skin. “Thank you.”

A weight settles in your chest, but you can’t quite bring yourself to regret the purchase.

————

After being taken from shop to shop, you’d finally reached one of the many bookstores in Velaris—the point your discipline had taken a heavy hit.

Peer down at the brown paper bag on your arm, one of three. The first containing the dress, the second containing a comfy pair of slippers Mor had managed to convince you to allow her to buy—there had been an ochre yellow jumper too, that you’d had to beg her not to buy because you’d caught sight of the price tag. And this third bag, containing two new books. You’d taken your time deciding on them—books don’t last you very long, generally being finished anywhere between a few hours and a week depending on your interest.

Darkness has fallen thanks to the days becoming shorter, a wave of fatigue washing through your mind as you glance out through the windows, peering down at Velaris, lit by dotted faelights—appearing as little, bright stars spotted amongst inky blackness.

Shoes are held in your arm, not wanting to tread dirt into the floors, the three bags weighing on your forearm as you behind quietly making your way to your room. You don’t know who else is about, and while the days hadn’t been as straining as you had anticipated, any more interaction threatens to send you spiralling.

Cotton socks tread lightly as you make your way through the halls, trying to keep from kneeing any of the bags in case it disturbs someone.

The corridors seems darker than usual, something ineffable about his presence affecting the surrounding area as you raise to the points of your toes, keeping volume to a minimum. Heart picks up as you keep to the left of the hallway, creeping at the edges like an unwanted creature, keeping to the darkness in fear of being caught and squashed. Keep your gaze on the floor as you try to move past as quietly as possible, peering along to the end of the corridor, a single wide window illuminating the floor. Moonlight spills through it, pooling on the wooden boards, reflecting onto the short set of drawers pushed against the wall.

You pass by his door as quietly as possible, hardly breathing until you reach the piece of furniture. Peer at the small trinkets scattered across its top, momentarily distracted. Some stray jewellery glints against the wood, little tea lights and incense sticks, a few arrowheads that have been discarded. It’s unnervingly simple to find various little weapons lying around, short daggers accidentally thrown in with cutlery, or things like arrowheads that have seemingly been forgotten this far into the House.

Eyes inadvertently lift to the large mirror, locking with your reflection. Something shifts just out of your vision, but you remain latched on. Stare at your hair, the set of your mouth in relation to your eyes, the corners aligning with your pupils. Look lower, shifting over collar bones and tense— You relax your shoulders, untighten your jaw, releasing the lines of tension that have been carved into your body.

Stare at your mouth again, tempted to raise the pads of your fingers to skate across the skin—test to see if they’re as pillowy as Mor’s appeared. Throat rolls, pressing down on the urge. Why bother comparing yourself like that.

Gaze breaks from the mirror, shoulders sloping further. The day was fun. Fun.

She’s enjoyable to be around. Almost enough for you to want another day. She knows how to speak to people, how to set them at ease. Brows tighten as you recall her smile, dazzling like sunshine, practically spelling you into response. Once again peer at the downward tilt of your mouth. Who would want to kiss such a sad looking mouth?

Look away before your thoughts go any further.

Lift up, settling on the mounted blade. Moonlight grins along its edge, hanging tauntingly overhead. Like a guillotine poised to snick down on your reflection. Throat rolls, the point of the steel twinkling like starlight, tongue flicks out to wet your lower lip.

Mindlessly wander how sharp it is, if there’s some tale behind it—maybe an heirloom. Either way, it must be special, to be put on display like that.

Again trace the smile of the curved blade, following the gleaming edge of steel.

(Would its slice would be faster than pain?)

Pain splinters up your knuckles, breath catching int your throat as fingertips burn. Jaw clamps, muscle locking as violent aches cramp your palms, lacing beneath the sleeves of your dress.

Keep still, eyes squeezing shut as you ease breaths into your lungs. The pain subsides to a dull itch, and you move to turn. Nostrils flare at the smell of smoke, eyes flicking down as the handles of the bags snap, singed and burnt away. Heart picks up at the books plummet to the floor, ready to thud intrusively on the boards, crack through the silence. Socked-foot sticks out before you can think, just needing to muffle the sound before it hits.

Teeth sink into your lower lip as one of the corners hits the bridge of your foot, undoubtedly going to bruise later, but you keep the noise of pain to a minimum. Heart pounds in the silence, and you’re swiftly ducking down to scoop the bags into your arms. Humiliation burns in your throat, shame twisting in your gut. If you had been less greedy…less hoggish… So stupid.

The gifts weigh in your arms like burning coals, clutched to tightly, desperately, as you scurry away down the hall. Crawling away into the distance.

————

Unscrew the pot of hand cream as soon as you’ve finished shoving the bags into the dust beneath your bed, pushed as far back as possible.

Peel back gloves, their tips singed open, already dipping your fingers into the cooling balm.

The sickening smell of gardenias floats up to you, skin burning as you rub the cream in, stinging from the aftermath. Fleetingly peer at the blank paper atop your desk, taunting but unadded to.

Feel control slipping out from under you, like the world is moving without you. Just a few steps behind. Heart picks up, a light, panicky feeling setting in. Fingertips crackle, glowing bright and tears slip out, teeth biting into the raw pain of your lip.

Swallowing down a single choked cry.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel acotar #azriel angst #CBMTHY #multi part fic

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samkerrworshipper · 7 months

Text

safe and sound | leah williamson x reader

themes of suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, self harm, depression, anxiety, angst, 4000 words

sorry this is messy asf and not spell checked whatsoever cause i’m uploading this at 1am lol but got this from a request and felt like i had to finish it before i start the lucy smut that i’m starting so here it is my loves xoxo

I blamed myself for getting myself into this position. Maybe if I’d been a better friend or a better player or maybe just if I hadn;t of woken up on the left side of the bed this morning. Maybe it would all be different if we hadn’t just won a home Euros, maybe I wouldn’t feel the same pressure from the media, maybe I wouldn’t have felt so goddamn anxious to go anywhere. Maybe if I hadn't transferred from Barca I’d feel safer, maybe if I wasn’t so focused on my career I would have seen the warning signs. I hadn’t though, hadn’t seen the way that I felt so fucking tired after every session, even the easier ones. Hadn’t noticed the fact that I wasn’t sleeping anymore and that I was always checking social media to see what people were saying about my most recent game. I hadn’t noticed that I was picking at my nail beds again until they were a bloody mess. Hadn’t noticed that the accidental nicks along my legs from my razor had slowly become less accidental. Hadn’t noticed how absolutely broken I had been from the inside out until I was sitting on top of my apartment car garage contemplating everything.

The sun was setting slowly, the yellows and pinks and oranges all mixing like a starburst tie dye across the sky. It was incredible, something I’d never really seen in London, it felt symbolic. Maybe if I hadn't been choking down my feelings for so long I wouldn’t have been looking at the concrete 30ms below me and finding comfort in it. Finding comfort in the poetic way that it spoke to me, that it made me feel a little bit more at peace. Solid, grey, concrete. Nothing special about it but there was also something so special about it. A gust of wind would probably be enough to send me plummeting onto it, my brains and blood spilling out all over it. It would never look the same after that, never be quite so mundane and normal. The bloodstain would be hard to get out, the deep maroon seeping into the stone and staining it within a matter of minutes. I thought about the headlines for a few seconds, I’d probably make the front page of about every newspaper in the nation, ‘Y/n Y/l/n, Lionesses star striker, dead at 24 due to suicide’, it sent shivers down my spine, the good kind of shivers that made you feel at peace.

I’d never really let myself get further than that, never left myself alone long enough to think of a plan, actually think about much further than sitting here. Now though I felt more alone than ever, I shouldn’t have ever left Barca, shouldn’t have left my family there. It had seemed like the right decision coming to England, to play for Arsenal, to play at home again. Now though I couldn’t have regretted my decision more, I mean I was pretty much calling Lucy or Alexia everyday telling them how desperate I was to come home, balling my eyes out to them on the phone about how much I missed our team in Spain. I was technically only on loan for a season, just to find my footing, but now I was certain that I stood no chance of surviving the whole season. The girls are lovely, Jonas was lovely, I was playing alongside the woman I loved but everything about it felt so wrong. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the location but it all was just so wrong and I couldn’t tell you why. I woke up every morning, went to training, came home, ate, tried to sleep and then repeated it all. It was a strenuously depressing pattern that never ended. It was the same, day in, day out. I didn’t have my found family anymore, just myself and my girlfriend who was too occupied with being Arsenal and England’s captain to have much time for me anymore. I didn’t really blame her, she was a busy woman, and she had such a good pure heart that she used to do so much good.

Sometimes it was overwhelming to me how much she was willing to give, to other people, to anything. She put her whole heart into everything and it was something I envied so much in her. Her willingness to give up anything for the people she cared about was insane to me. She cared so deeply about everyone around her and it was truly astounding but it did leave me feeling neglected occasionally when she was busy helping out someone or busy dedicating her time to a project that needed her more than I did. I didn’t like to be needy, so maybe even though I’d been struggling for a few weeks I hadn’t flagged it with Leah.

She’d caught on somewhere along the way, stopping me one morning to check in, I’d shaken her off with a smile telling her I was just a little bit burn out with the Euro’s and changing to Arsenal, I could tell she hadn’t believed me but she also knew that I didn’t respond well to being pushed, normally she would wait me out, wait until I came crawling to her to talk but this time it felt different, like maybe this was the end. Maybe this time I wasn’t going to get around to talking to Leah, maybe this time I didn’t want her to help me, maybe I just wanted to be done with trying to be better, trying to be okay when I wasn’t. Maybe this ledge was the end of my story, maybe it was destined to be.

“Hey honey.”

The sudden voice behind me was almost enough to send me over the ledge, my knuckles turning white from clutching onto the edge. I flinched as the source of the voice climbed up onto the ledge and sat down beside me.

“Beautiful sunset, how was your day?”

It was such a mundane question and the simplicity of the statement was enough to bring me down to earth enough to realise that there were tears falling down my face and my whole body was shaking slightly.

“Reminds me of the ones in Barca. It was alright.”

Leah nodded at me, keeping her own eyes on the horizon, the sun had almost fully gone down but there were parts of it still peeking out.

“I went and saw Keira and Jill, Keira was in town to visit Millie and some of the other girls, she said she missed you, that you’d been missing her and Luce’s calls for about a week now.”

My hands were almost numb from the death grip that I had on the ledge that we were sitting on. She had distanced herself enough that we weren’t touching but close enough that I could feel her presence.

“It kept slipping my mind to call them back.”

It was all excuses, things that I was telling Leah to avoid the conversation.

“Fair enough, they’re both just worried about you, I’m worried about you sweetheart. Did you end up going for coffee with Katie this morning?”

I knew she was asking me the questions as a distraction technique, new she’d been taught it from Lucy when I’d moved here, the same stuff Lucy had been taught from my therapist. I knew that subconsciously but for some reason it worked every single time, without fail.

“Felt sick.”

“She called me, said you’d bailed last minute and asked me to check in with you for her, to tell you that you guys would have to reschedule. What did you eat for lunch?”

I could feel my legs kicking out against the solid concrete below my feet, I was averting Leah’s eye contact with everything that I could, keeping my eyes on my feet or the sky that was gradually getting darker.

“Felt sick, wasn’t hungry. Why are you here? I thought you had that dinner thing with Alex.”

It was the first question that I’d asked in the conversation, my curiosity taking over slightly.

“I came to check in with you, you weren’t answering my texts or calls and I was worried you were sick, so I came to check in before heading off to Alex’s, it’s unlike you to not be on your phone.”

I nodded, it was a fairly good explanation and it made sense but it also annoyed me so much because Leah showing up here was fucking with everything.

“You can go to Alex’s, I feel fine.”

“I love you, you know that right?”

Leah’s words hung heavy in the space between us.

“I know Lee.”

I rubbed at the tears that were drying up on my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, I was still trembling slightly but my tears had come to a slow.

“If anything ever happened to you I’d be beside myself.”

I felt my two front teeth falling to my lip, clutching it between my teeth and biting down on it.

“Lee, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not angel, and there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s okay for you to not be doing okay. We wouldn’t be sitting here if everything was fine, how about we get down from here, yeah? We can head down to your apartment, or my house if you want. We’ll go see the dogs, we can talk if you want, or we can call your therapist, or Ale, or we can just cuddle in bed, whatever you need.”

I shook my head almost immediately.

“Leah I need you to leave me alone, please, just leave, go home, go hang out with Alex, just leave me.”

“I can’t do that sweetheart and you know it, and if you can’t get down from here then you know that I won’t hesitate to call 999 if it's what I have to do to keep you safe. I love you Y/n, but I will not love you to death. So you can either get down from here by yourself or with my help, or with the help of a policeman, those are your options.”

It was the stern Leah that was now coming out now, the Leah that came out when she needed to help a teammate who was struggling but wouldn’t admit it, the Leah who was relentless and would do anything to protect the people she loved.

“I can’t do this anymore, I can’t fucking deal with this anymore.”

That was when I broke, tears and sobs cascading from my eyes and mouth.

“I know sweetheart, and I am so sorry that I didn’t realise that it had gotten this bad, I am so sorry for that. Let me make it up to you, let me take you home and I can take time off, we can both take time off, travel, whatever you need. Y/n/n, I can’t not do life without you, so let’s get down from here, let’s work this out at home.”

I was at a crossroads, on one hand I was very much so aware of the fact that I could jump right now, that Leah couldn’t stop that, I also knew that I wouldn’t do it with Leah here, the guilt of making her watch it would eat at me too much. So eventually, I was going to have to get down but for right now I couldn't, I needed to hold on to this for a little bit before having to get down and face reality.

“I’m not going to jump, I just need a few more minutes here.”

“I don’t know if I trust you right now honey, no offence, but I’m looking out for you.”

I nodded, it was fair judgement, I probably wouldn’t trust me either in her position.

“You can hold onto me if it helps, I just need some time here.”

Leah conceded to me, but wrapped her arm securely around my waist, moving herself so she was flush against me and holding me tightly against her body.

“How was Keira?”

“She was good, misses you, her and Lucy are good, I think Keira is getting the sense that Lucy might be tiptoeing around proposing. Apparently she’s been very secretive and antsy, typical Lucy fashion, I told her I knew nothing. Jill made me promise that we’d meet up with her, she says she misses my better half. I picked up Scout from the groomers, you should see the hair cut they gave her, just pure fluff. I went to the grocers, the fancy one that you love so much down the road, picked up all of your favourite stuff, even the stupidly expensive soup that you like. If you want we can go back to mine and you can eat it while we talk.”

She was trying to coax me away, with the promise of soup, which sounded so stupid but she knew me so well that it made me laugh a little bit.

“Can I have the soup without talking?”

“You can drink the soup first but we have to talk and you know it, whether you realise it or not it’s for the better.”

I nodded into Leah’s side, she was right, she was always right. She was so wise for her age and sometimes it felt like instead of being two years older than me she was 20.

“Let’s head home, yeah?”

I pursed my lips, still contemplating my options.

“You’re going to make me anyways, right?”

“Yeah babygirl, it’s for the best.”

I nodded at Leah, accepting defeat.

“Can you help me?”

Leah nodded at me almost immediately, getting herself down and then reaching up for me. She lifted me off of the ledge and pulled me down onto the ground beside her. The first thing she did was drape her jacket around my shivering form. She didn’t say anything else, she just immediately started walking, dragging me along towards her car and gracefully fastening the passenger seat belt around me before climbing into the driver's seat and started to drive.

The car ride was silent, I was a shivering, crying, mess. Leah was keeping up her strong facade, clearly not prepared to give me any sympathy. It wasn’t her way, she was a tough love kind of person. She gave it to you how it was and that was that. I loved her for that, I didn’t like people who bull shitted you with false sympathies and sweetness, I was a realist and so was Leah.

The drive to her house was reasonably short, she lived about a ten minute drive from my apartment or a half an hour walk. It was convenient, especially when one of us needed a little bit of space but we also wanted to be within reach of the other. When we did make it back to her house I was kind of feeling inexplicably numb, my thoughts eating at my brain and body and leaving me feeling frozen in time. Leah unbuckled me from my seat and helped me up, helped me walk through her front door before getting me seated on her couch with our dogs before walking into the kitchen to get that soup that she’d promised me.

When she did finish warming up the soup I was melting into the couch practically, our dogs, Scout and Saidee had apparently gotten the message that I needed them, so both of them were draped on top of me, it was what I needed. Leah returned with a bowl of soup and placed it down on our coffee table before sliding in next to me on the couch.

“I’d give the soup a few minutes to cool down, how about we talk until then?”

I didn’t want to talk, but it didn’t seem like I had a choice.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“How long have you been feeling not okay?”

It was a rough question, but not something that I hadn’t been expecting.

“Honestly, a few weeks, since my move here. I love you and I love being with you but being here isn’t easy for me and I’m struggling to settle in.”

Leah nodded, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for her to hear, that’s probably why I’d avoided telling her for as long as possible. Arsenal was her family, Arsenal ran in her blood and I knew that there was a chance she’d take it personally that I hadn’t been finding it easy to settle in.

“Okay, I wish you’d told me earlier but that’s okay. Change isn’t easy, I can’t blame you for struggling. Obviously, I love having you here but if it’s not meant to be then it’s not meant to be. I’m sorry if I haven’t been focusing on you enough, I know that I’ve been so occupied with everything else but that isn’t a good enough reason for me to have been neglecting you. I have to ask this question, were you going to kill yourself tonight?”

I took a deep breath through my nose, no one is ever prepared for that question, it’s not something anybody wants to hear or talk about ever.

“Look, I’m not quite sure. I wasn’t really thinking, if you hadn't showed up, maybe. I don’t know Leah, I just know that I was feeling so fucking out of control and when I fele out of control I stop thinking.”

Leah just pursed her lips, it was clear that she didn’t know exactly what to say, or she was trying to put what she was thinking into words.

“Okay, that’s okay. Obviously it’s not okay, but that’s okay. We have options here, you have options. Let’s book an appointment with your therapist tomorrow, firstly. Secondly I think you and I should maybe sit down and have a proper conversation about your mental health, just so that I can become more educated on it and I can be more aware of these kinds of situations, because I want to be. I love you y/n and I want to be here to support you fully, but if I’m going to do that I need to understand how I can love you but also look after you and help you, because I want to.”

I was anxiously patting our dogs stomach, as I thought about how the fuck I was going to talk to Leah about this.

“I’ve had fucked up mental health since I was a kid, it fluctuates, you know that I get panic attacks and spouts of depression. Sometimes it worsens, Lucy can give you more details, honestly I don’t think I’m the best at explaining it. Sometimes I get really low, I’ve had my fair share of suicidal thoughts and self harm over the years, I’ve never gone through with anything and honestly my mental health has been really good over the year or so, that was why I didn’t flag it with you, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I am so sorry that you had to see me like that, I’m sorry that your fucking worrying about me.”

Leah’s arm wove its way around my waist, bringing me flush against her and it felt so right in that moment.

“Y/n, look at me.”

It was the first time that I’d looked her in the eyes the whole night and it kind of hurt in some bizarre way staring into her brown eyes. They were full of so much emotion, so much feeling and pain in them.

“You should not be sorry for having human emotion. I’m sorry for not seeing the warning signs, for not being around enough to see the signs. I’m still learning, I’m trying to be better for you, so let’s just agree that neither of us are perfect. This is new to me, but I’m going to try my fucking hardest for you, whatever you need. We’re going to make you feel happier, put that smile back on your face that made me fall in love with you, if it’s the last thing I do. Maybe we take a break if that’s what you need, or we explore other options, anything to make you feel happier, anything for my girl.”

#woso #leah williamson #lionesses #woso community #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #katie mccabe #lucy bronze #marry me rn

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arlana-likes-to-write · 4 months

Text

Not Like I'm in Love with You

Summary: For the longest time, it was you and Maria. A package duo. A dynamic team. Agent Hill and Gaia. But you were always just friends, nothing more. Until a mission goes wrong forces Maria to admit her feelings for you.

Warnings: jealously, angst with a happy ending, surgery, medically induced coma, bomb, eco terrorist?, reader is enhanced, mention of drinking and sexual activity, love confession

Word Count: 5.2k

“My savior,” Natasha groaned as you handed the redhead a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. She moaned, taking a sip of the coffee. “I could marry you right now.” You shook her head at her antics and passed the rest of the goodies to the team. Clint had his feet on the table and head thrown back, and a pair of sunglasses covered his eyes. He grunted out a thanks when he set his order down. The rest of the team was in different states of hungover, barely muttering a greeting. You chuckled.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have gone out on a school night,” you teased, sitting down at your desk so you could eat your own. Clint groaned.

“You aren’t my mom,” You felt like it.

“Where’s the boss?” You questioned.

“Probably untangling herself from the blonde she went home with,” May mumbled, holding a cold towel to her forehead. Why did your stomach drop when she said that? The team had the right to party after a job well done. The case had a breakthrough, and they wanted to go out. Like always, you refused, you weren’t much of a drinker, and you didn’t trust yourself drunk with your abilities. You were an Eco-empathy, allowing you to connect deeply with the environment and sense, understand, and manipulate the natural world. SHIELD nicknamed you Gaia, and your fellow agents called you various Earth-related names. You and Maria were just friends, right? When Fury picked her as Deputy Director, she prompted you alongside her. You were her second in command; while she went out in the field, you stayed behind to run point. It was how you two operated a well-oiled machine. Co-workers. Best friends at most. Like you’ve been, right? Natasha raised an eyebrow at you.

The door opened, and Maria walked in. “Ah, she emerges from her walk of shame,” Natasha teased. Maria flipped her off and thanked you with a smile for her breakfast.

“Ain’t nothing shameful what I did last night,” Natasha cringed. Thankfully, Maria’s back was to you, so she missed the frown on your face. The redhead saw it. “Alright,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

“You missed a hell of a party,” Maria said as you handed your mock battle plan for the upcoming mission. It would go through her than Fury before it was green lite; the more eyes, the better when it came to people’s lives.

“All these years you’ve known me, you know clubs aren’t my scene,” you sat on the edge of her desk. There was a picture of you and her during your SHIELD graduation. “Besides, how long were you there until an innocent woman fell under your spell?” You teased, but it didn’t feel enjoyable in your mouth.

“She wasn’t so innocent when I had my way with her,” you faked a gag. It was typical behavior between you two to talk about the woman you brought home; more times than not, Maria had the stories. But why did you feel like you could throw up right now?

“I can tell by that hickey on your neck,” you pushed the bruise, and she squatted your hand away. She was your ride-or-die. So you weren’t jealous.

“What is your schedule like today?” You sighed, looking at your nails on your left hand.

“Leading a training with May, a meeting with Phil, and I think Clint wants to go over some new trick arrows,” you rattled off. It was a typical busy day for you. Maria nodded.

“Do you want to go get lunch? We could go to that Mexican place you like.” That sounded nice, and you liked the burritos and mock tails they had. You sighed.

“How about a ring check? Nat asked if I could get lunch with her today,” Maria liked to joke that you made her soft. She rarely held up the mask to hide her emotions around you. There was no need. Now you saw the mask slowly creep up to hide her true feelings.

“Yeah, of course, she forced a smile. “Now get out of here before I write you up,” she teased. Rolling your eyes, you jumped off her desk.

“See you later, Ria.”

“Stay safe out there, Willow.” You rolled your eyes at the nickname but her office to start your day.

“You love her,” Natasha said as you took a bite of your sandwich. You choked on it, and the Black Widow smirked at your misfortune. You rubbed your chest to help the food pass and took a sip of water.

“I have no idea what the hell you are talking about,” she took a fry from your plate and popped it in her mouth.

“Please, Cherry, you’ve been in love with Maria since I’ve known you, and according to Phil, it’s been since the academy,” you gasped.

“Why is this office gossip?” You asked.

“We have to talk about something,” she shrugged. SHIELD agents were moths to a flame when it came to gossip. “Don’t worry, we won’t discuss it with Maria.” That was not reassuring.

“Look, Maria and I are friends. We have been forever; the way I feel is black and white.” You were curious to know if Natasha believed you. Hell, you barely believed yourself. It wasn’t like you stayed up at night overthinking the possibility of you and Maria has a couple. Nah, that would be dumb.

“Are you sure?” Yeah, it was fine. It was cool. It wasn’t like every time she talked about having sex with some random hookup at a bar, it made your stomach burn with jealousy because you wanted her body all to yourself. You wanted her more than anyone else. It’s not like you were in love with her.

“Shit,” you mumbled, slumping back into her hair. Natasha smiled, sipping on her chocolate milkshake.

“Glad you admitted it,” you hadn’t admitted anything. What was she talking about? “So, are you going to tell her?”

“No!” You shrieked, and you drew the attention of the other patrons. You felt your body warm up due to the extra eyes. Natasha chuckled. “God, no. I can’t. It will ruin everything. Besides, I doubt she feels the same.”

“She does.” The Black Widow glanced at the watch on her wrist. “Shit, we have to get back.” It was supposed to be a quick lunch because Fury called for an emergency meeting. You nodded, throwing your half-eaten food in the bag to take with you. “You know,” Natasha held open the door for you as you walked onto the busy DC sidewalks. “You should tell her. You both could be happy.” She said it as if it was easy and not scary. It’s not like you were losing your mind thinking about her in your bed. It started slow, but like dominoes, you started free-falling with no control. You were doing a shit job at hiding it if your friends knew the truth. It’s not like you were in love with her.

“I’m going on this mission,” you said, a little surprised.

“Yes,” Fury said, his arms behind his back and one good eye trained on you. “Your skill set is what this mission needs. Is that a problem?”

“No sir,” you said without hesitation. You kept up to date on your physical and firearm certification, and you met with SHIELD’s psychologist. You were always mission-ready when the time called for it, but it never did. You glanced at Maria, who was oddly quiet. Her face was in a permanent frown. But you couldn’t worry about her now; you had a mission to lead.

Maria found you in the locker room, tackle suit around your waist, and you were holding your dad’s dog tags in your hand. It was your good luck charm. “Want me to put it on you?” She asked. You nodded, handing her the necklace. Carefully, she placed the chain around your neck and locked it. The cold metal caused goosebumps to cover your shin. “I don’t like you going on this mission without me.” She admitted and sat down next to you on the bench. You chuckled.

“You’ll be watching my back,” you looked over your shoulder. “No, you’ll know how I feel every time you run off into danger.” You tried to make light of the situation, but there was a frown on your face. “Here,” you removed the necklace and placed it around her.

“What are you doing?” She asked. “You never go anywhere without it.”

“I don’t need it,” you said. “I got you watching my back. That’s all the luck I need.” Maria was quiet. It was unsettling for her to be quiet. “Ria, we got this. I get this. I’ve learned from the best, so I’ll be the best.” She laughed, and you were glad you could pull a sound out of her.

“Just-”

“Clover,” May walked in and cut Maria off. “We are all set, just waiting for you.” You told me you’d be there in 5 and turned your attention back to Maria.

“Just stay safe out there, Willow.” You wondered what she was going to say if she wasn’t interrupted.

“I’ll see you later, Ria,” you smiled. “Promise.”

You learned to listen to your gut instinct. It was your most valued tool as an agent. Even when you ran point back at headquarters, you listened to it when your stomach tightened with anxiety as you sat in the wooded area that surrounded the factory. This factory was responsible for releasing toxins into the air. Usually, this type of case wouldn’t gather attention from SHIELD, but the damage they were doing to the environment was affecting the locals: memory loss, muscle spasms, and strange hallucinations. The problem was that it was impossible to locate the idiots responsible for the mess. You could feel the environment dying in this area. May place a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay? She asked. You nodded, unable to open your mouth. You let out a few shaky breaths, trying to loosen the anxiety knot in your stomach, and tapped on the com in your ear.

“How are we looking?” You asked.

“They are about to make the guard change,” hearing Maria’s voice helped calm you down. “Are you doing okay, Willow? Your heart monitor is spiking.” You rolled your eyes and bit back a huff of annoyance. It was Phil’s idea to add pulse and heart detectors into the suit.

“Yeah, they’ve caused a lot of damage to this area. It’s making me all jittery,” you admitted.

“We’ll stop them,” this time it was Natasha’s voice through the coms. The Black Widow was recovering from a shoulder injury that left her benched until it was healed. You lead the team with Clint, May, and a handful of qualified agents.

“Shift change is in 3,” you put on your gas mask. “2 and 1. Stay safe, agents.” That feeling remained in the pit of your stomach. Anxiety, dread. You needed to figure out why. You moved through the building with ease and worked towards the control room. It was your, May’s, and two other agents’ job to turn off the factory while Clint protected the outside in case the alarm was tripped.

“We made it to the control room,” May said.

“Perfect, insert the flash drive. It should take 5 minutes to shut down the factory and copy the information they have on it.” Maria explained. May pushed the rolling chair out of the way.

“Go stand guard,” you ordered the other two agents. They obeyed and went into the hallway. The mission was almost over, so why were you so anxious? When May inserted the flash drive, an alarm went off, and metal walls trapped May and you inside the room.

“Houston,” your friend said. “We have a problem.” The room began to shake as a trap door opened, and a bomb rose from the floor. The red numbers clicked down from 10 minutes.

“Houston,” you repeated, and you took off the gas mask. “We have a bigger problem.”

“Turn on your cameras,” you turned on your body camera and heard the sharp intake of Maria’s breath.

“Guys, we have multiple heat signatures heading towards the factory,” Phil said. You walked over to the bomb, staring at the mysterious liquid.

“Barton, pull back. Gather all agents to the secondary position,” you pulled your hand back, clutching your hand against your chest—a fertilizer bomb.

“Willow, what is it?” Maria asked. You glanced at May; you knew she saw the panic in your eyes.

“It’s a fertilizer bomb,” you admitted. “Big enough to take out the factory and the surrounding bomb.”

“Fucking hell,” you heard Natasha mumble.

“May-”

“Already on it,” she cut off Maria as she rapidly typed at the control panel, trying to disarm the bomb.

“All agents have made it to the secondary location. Just need you two.” Yeah, that was going to be a problem. The sound of your team frantically discussing how to disarm the bomb became white noise. You walked the room length, gliding your hand over the metal wall. To your surprise, you felt pieces of earth within the metal sheets. Of course! All you had to do was focus on the impurities within the metal. You let out a shaky breath and concentrated. The metal moved underneath your palm.

“I have an idea,” you said suddenly.

“Am I going to like this idea?” Maria questioned. Probably not. You took your normal stance, feet shoulder length apart and knees bent slightly. You put your hands together, and then your palms faced the metal walls. Slowly, you began miming as if trying to rip something apart. At first, nothing happened. Beads of sweat trickled down your neck. Finally, the metal started to crumble and pull apart. A small doorway appeared. You fell to one knee, chest heaving. May ran to your side.

“That was wild,” she said. “I don’t know you could do that.” You chuckled as she helped you to your feet.

“Neither did I.”

“Nice work. No, get out of there,” Maria said. You quickly turned off your body camera and your and May’s com.

“You’re staying, aren’t you?” She asked.

“I think I can contain the blast.”

“You think?” It wasn’t an exact science, and you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to contain it.

“Go,” you told her. You had to try. If not, so many people would die, including your team. Your friend hesitated but took off towards the exit. You faced the bomb and turned on your com again. There were four and a half minutes left.

“Why aren’t you leaving with May?” Maria questioned. You took a shaky breath and retook your stance. “Willow, it’s just me and you. What are you doing?”

“I gotta try, Ria,” your voice strained with exhaustion, arms shook at each metal wall you bent around the bomb. “If I don’t, hundreds if not thousands of people are gonna die.” You said. It was your responsibility to get your team home and protect the innocents in the area. Maria whispered your name. It was so rare that someone said your real name it took you by surprise. The bomb was fully wrapped in metal, but you were exhausted already. “You got my lucky charm, right?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I got it.”

“Good, good,” you mumbled, digging your feet into the metal floor. “I’ll see you later, Ria. I promised, didn’t I?” There was so much more you wanted to say. A three-word sentence danced on your lips, but you held it back. It wasn’t fair to her to say it now. Each nerve in your body was vibrating. Every breath you took burned. You sent a silent prayer to your father as the explosion rocked your body. You held the metal to contain it. A scream left your lips as it became too much, and your world went black.

Maria knew she had this aura that surrounded her. An aura that screamed authority. It told newer agents not to fuck with her. She knew she was good at what she did and wanted everyone to know that. As she walked to the med bay with Natasha close by, she was murderous. Rationally, she knew it was no one’s fault. It was par for the course when it came to this line of work, but she needed someone to blame and push guilt onto someone. May was resting in a chair with an ice pack on her head. She looked up when she heard the approaching footsteps. “She’s still in surgery,” she mumbled, and Natasha sat beside her. “Doctors are worried about the amount of blood she lost and the toxins that entered her lungs.” A heat of anger washed over Maria, but she tried to push it down.

“May, go shower and eat,” Maria ordered. Her voice strained. She saw the protest form in the agent’s eyes. “That’s an order.” You risked your life to save her and the rest of your team. It would do no one good if May stopped taking care of herself. “That’s an order.” May sighed.

“Yes, Hill.” She stood up and left. Maria took a seat in her spot, elbows resting on her knees.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Natasha asked. Maria refused to look away from the wall she was staring at.

“I need her to be okay,” Maria admitted.

“Is this why you wrote her out of every mission?” The Black Widow questioned. Maria slowly leaned back and looked at the redhead. “Come on, Hill, it was obvious. With her on the field, missions would be over in half the time, but you didn’t want to risk her getting hurt.” Maria remained silent. “Now, why would you do that?” Her eyes locked onto Natasha’s green ones; there was no judgment like she had expected to see. “We do crazy things for the people we love.”

“I-” Maria let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know, Nat.” She whispered. “I just need her to be okay.”

“She will be,” the Black Widow smiled. “She’s strong.” Of course, Maria knew you were strong. She’s seen you at your lowest point when your father passed away, but you pulled yourself out of it. Your screams right before you collapsed were repeating inside her head. It was like a bad song stuck in there. The only thing that gave her hope was the steady beat of your heart monitors within your suit. You were alive, barely but alive.

“Deputy Director Hill,” her name said, but the approaching doctor caused her to stand up.

“How she is?” She asked.

“Stable,” the doctor said. “The next 24 hours are critical. I must admit she has a few guardian angels looking out for her. There was a major piece of metal in her stomach and left thigh. She also had small pieces in her arm. We think she hit her head due to a cut on the back of her head.”

“May said you were worried about her lungs,” Natasha said. The doctor nodded.

“She inhaled a great deal of the fertilizer before she was found, so we are worried about the lasting effects.” She explained.

“Can-can I see her?” Maria asked.

“Of course, we’ve placed her in a medically induced coma to allow her body to heal.” She faintly heard Natasha say she would inform Clint and the others of your condition. Maria wasn’t sure if the doctor was talking about your prognosis, but soon she was alone.

The only noise in the room was the steady sound of the machines connected to you. It seemed unreal that you were hurt. For the longest time, you seemed untouchable. Now, you were bedridden and too pale for Maria’s liking. She took your father’s dog tags off her neck and opened your hand to put the chain in it. “Lucky charm is back where it belongs.” She formed your hands into a tight fist and placed it on your heart. “Come back to me,” she whispered, kissing your forehead. “Please.”

There was a heaviness that surrounded you. It started at your chest and then moved to your limbs. The pressure was suffocating. Catastrophic. Slowly, you opened your eyes to the bright light of med bay. You felt metal in your hand and opened your palm to see the dog tags you gave Maria. “You’re awake,” you turned to see Natasha. A deck of cards in your hands and glanced down at your chest. You interrupted a game of war.

“Why are you using me as a table?” You deadpanned. Natasha shrugged.

“Had to kill time as we waited for your dumbass to wake up,” you rolled your eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a semi-truck,” you groaned and sat up slowly. The door opened to the bathroom, and Clint walked out.

“Shit,” you said. “You’re alive.” You scuffed, rubbing the bandages on your chest.

“I’m glad you had so much confidence in me, bird man,” Clint took a seat across from Natasha. “The team is okay, right? They all made it out.”

“Yeah, you saved their lives,” Natasha said. “Maria is pissed at you.” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll deal with her later.” You closed your eyes. Now that you were a little more awake, you could take a better inventory of your body. Every small breath you took caused your chest to burn; it felt like a fire was starting. You sighed, wincing slightly, and turned to look at Natasha. “How bad?” The Black Widow sighed.

“There is potential damage to your lungs due to the fertilizer, and you had a metal that they had to remove from your stomach and thigh.” Cool, you thought, real cool.

“Just think,” Clint started. “At least you are off breakfast duty for a while.” You laughed at his poor attempt to lighten the mood but hissed. “Shit, sorry. No laughing. Got it.” You waved him off that you were okay.

“I’ll go get the doctor. Don’t move.” Natasha said, standing up. You scuffed. Yeah, you would make a grand escape with a hole in your stomach.

“You had everyone worried,” Clint said once Natasha was gone. You remained quiet, lost in your thoughts. It wasn’t your intention to scare everyone. It was your job to protect your team and bring them home. So, you completed that part of the mission. It so happened you were hurt in the process.

It was night when you woke up again, and Maria was in Natasha’s seat. Her eyes were closed, but you knew she wasn’t asleep. Even in the dim light of the room, she looked exhausted. Bags were under her eyes, and her face looked pale. Natasha told you that you were in a medically induced coma for five days. Maria barely slept, had to be forced to eat, and left her office. “I know you aren’t asleep, Ria,” you whispered. Her eyes shot open. “You look like shit.”

“Says the girl with the hole in her stomach.” You smiled.

“They stitched it up all good. Besides, I had my lucky charm,” you picked up the dog tag around your neck. To your surprise, Maria took your hand in hers. Your body felt warm at the simple act. It wasn’t like you hadn’t held her hand before this moment felt more intimate. “Ria,” you whispered. “Are you okay?”

“I thought I lost you,” she admitted. “God, Willow, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you said. “I needed to save the team.” She shook her head.

“It was the right call to make, but,” Maria sighed, and you felt her take her hand away, but you held her tight, not wanting to let her go. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you promised.

With the surgery and injuries, your movement was limited. The most straightforward actions were impossible for you to do without pain shooting through your chest. It was deemed you would move in with someone until you fully recovered. Natasha was the first to offer but was quickly overruled by Maria. So you moved in with the Deputy Director, and it was strange. You needed help washing your hair, changing, and undressing yourself. You couldn’t understand the look in Maria’s eyes for every action you required assistance with. It wasn’t the first time you shared a living space with Maria, but now you walked on eggshells around each other. A part of you wanted to go back before the mission before everything felt complicated between you and your best friend.

The physical limitations weren’t the worst part of your recovery. It was the mental scars. Nightmares plagued your mind almost every night of that mission. It would change constantly. Sometimes, your team would die, or you would fail to save Maria. It was exhausting, waking up in a pool of sweat, your heart racing, and your lungs unable to get air into them. You wanted all to stop.

Maria was sitting at her dining room table, a bottle of whiskey opened, and she needed to work on a few case files. Her mind was a million miles away and not on her duties as Deputy Director. It wasn’t entirely her fault; a lot had happened over the past two weeks. Her best friend was almost killed; Natasha forced her to admit she was in love with said best friend, and she had to watch you piece yourself back together. It was exhausting, but she knew you would do it for her. This was how it had always been. You and Maria. Agent Hill and Gaia. A package duo that never crossed the line as friends. So Maria filled the void that was missing with one-night stands and drunken sex that meant nothing to her. All she wanted, needed, and craved was you. She could not risk the friendship; it was the most important thing in her life.

Small whimpers from your room pulled her out of her thoughts. Standing quickly, she made her way to the guest room. She carefully opened the door. You lay on the bed, mumbling something Maria couldn’t quite understand. On socked feet, she walked over to the bed and sat at the foot. “No,” you mumbled. “Take me. Not her. Please.” Maria’s heart broke.

“Sweetheart,” Maria whispered. “Wake up. Come on.”

“Maria,” you mumbled, thrashing slightly. “Maria, please, I’m sorry.”

“It’s just a nightmare. Wake up. Wake up.” You woke with a start, chest heaving and eyes frantically looking around.

“Ria,” you forced out. There was a thin layer of sweat on your body.

“It’s okay—you’re safe. I’m safe. Breath,” she gently touched the back of your neck and brought your forehead against hers. Your eyes closed as you took a few deep breaths in and out. Finally, you pulled away, and Maria hated to admit she missed you being close. You slumped back on the bed, arm across your face.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked. She was curious to know if you heard her. With your other hand, you grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

“I’m scared,” you said. Your voice shook at every spoken word. “I feel broken and weak and-” You aggressively rubbed your eyes as tears filled them.

“You are not broken,” Maria said. “You are healing. In time, you will return to your old self that I-” Maria cut herself off. You removed your hand from your face and slowly sat up.

“You what?” You asked, crossed your legs, and tried to cover the grimace of pain that crossed your face, but you moved closer to her. “Come on, Ria, tell me,” she was looking at every decoration in the room so she wouldn’t have to look at you. Finally, you used your index finger to tilt her chin to look back at you. “Finish your sentence,” you wore a smile on your face. It was a smile that Maria learned to look for in a crowd, in a meeting, or on a video call while on a mission. Your smile filled her with a sense of peace. It warmed her body and made her feel at home.

“That I fell in love with,” Maria softly spoke as she finished her sentence. You made a surprise sound that originated in the back of your throat, but you recovered quickly.

“You love me, Maria Hill?” the agent huffed a laugh, shaking her head.

“Shut up,” she mumbled. “If you are going to make fun of me, get it over with.”

“I’d never make fun of you, not about this, at least.” You added with a smirk because you have made fun of her about other things. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, inching closer until Maria felt your breath mingling with hers.

“Please,” you connected your lips with hers. Maria hated how often she thought about this moment. She would go to her grave before admitting out loud how many times she had to bite her lip during sex to stop herself from moaning your name. Fair too soon for her liking, you pulled away and rested your head on her shoulder.

“Why have we waited so long to do that?” Maria chuckled. “Will you stay?”

“Always,” the open bottle of whiskey and mission reports could wait another day.

When you woke up the following day, you are disappointed to find an empty bed. Maria’s side was cold, but you heard a commotion in the kitchen. Carefully, you stood up. The mornings were always rough due to being in the same position for so long. You slowly made your way out of the room and into the kitchen. Maria was at the stove, her back to you, and you walked over to her. Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you buried her head in her shoulder. Her body tensed up but soon relaxed in your arms. “Morning,” you mumbled.

“Morning. Breakfast is almost done. Why don’t you go sit down?” You shook your head.

“Your arm,” you said, kissing the skin you could reach. You were happy with the goosebumps that formed on her skin. Her body shook with laughter.

“Go sit. I’ll get your medicine, too.” You pouted, walked over to the couch, and pulled a blanket over your lap. It wasn’t long before Maria joined on the sofa with two plates of food.

“I can help you know,” she said with a smile. She brought back two mugs of coffee and water with your medication. You kissed her cheek as your thanks and took the three white pills with water.

“I should probably say this,” you bite into the eggs. “I love you too,” she smirked.

“I would hope so, or this entire thing would be incredibly awkward,” she teased. You rolled your eyes and pumped your shoulder against hers.

“You are a dork,” you smiled.

“I’m your dork,” that was also true. Oh, how you liked that sound.

“Mine,” you mumbled, kissing her. “And I’m yours.”

#maria hill x reader #maria hill x you #maria hill

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sinning-23 · 5 months

Text

Fishbowl (Buggy x Siren!Reader)

I hope you guysss like this one lol it’s been in the works for a minute and is one of the last in the siren/mermaid series! Also sorry for any spelling errors! This one with be a two part red and definitely some angst? Or at least I’ll try lol angst isn’t exactly my specialty!

Anyway, ENJOY!

Your nails claw at the glass, leaving scrapes and indents in their wake. After being captured by these pirates, you were transported to a large glass dome on wheels. You were panicking, the screeching from your echolocation making passerby’s of the crew cover their ears and double over.

Why you? You hadn't even been by the ship...they just pulled up to the shore of your home island firing cannons as your sisters swam for cover. You directed them, helping them escape only to be grabbed by the hair an dragged to the shore before you could make your escape.

Any mermaid knew what happened when they were captured.... fin scales used for jewelry, the rich meat of your tails used in rare dishes. The your teeth would be grinder down to pearl like where’s, drilled for necklaces. Nausea builds in the pit of your stomach. This was it.

He approached you, lifting you by your hair as your gills opens and close at the side of your neck, an unpleasant, wet sounding “gasp” filling the silence.

“What a treat. My audience is gonna love you.”

You swallow hard, native tongue sliding off with venom. He sneers at this.

“Too bad I can’t understand you sweets.” Buggy chuckles.

He’s got your arm in an uncomfortable grip as he drags you across the sand and flings you into another crewmate. I’m some kind of silent agreement the carry you across the sandy beach to the temporary tank. Your stomach turns, glittery tears falling down your cheeks.

Currently, you keep clawing, scratching, and screeching, and the glass begins to crack at this latest noise. You needed to get out. But before you can fix your voice to scream again, he enters.

"Please shut your mouth sweetheart. You're not going anywhere.” He explains with a roll of his eyes.

You speak again, and of course, he can understand but it’s something along the lines of,

“I’ll kill you when I get out of here.”

_____4 months______

You scratched a tally for each day you were there, the fishbowl now adorned with a stand and a pretty label in fancy blue ribbon and gold paint. He forced you to act in his shows, putting your gifted set of pipes “to good use”. Even though your siren song was powerful, its intended purpose seemed to fade away.

Every song you sang, the sorrow of being captured poured into your notes, making the audience ever more mournful than they already were. Your songs and performances almost always ended in tears now, Buggy’s crew opting to wear earplugs in fear they’d end their lives then and there if they heard one more melancholic tune.

Buggy, on the other hand, was beginning to grow ever impatient. The first two months of shows had gone just fine! His crew and audience were so enamored by your beauty and sound. Now it was just pitiful. But even though it pissed him off his own decisions led to failure, he couldn’t help but want your gorgeous set of pipes to himself.

Often, he’s caught himself in a daze, wondering what it feels like to have you sing him to sleep, your hands caressing his face with a smile and he pulls into a sense of security. Fat chance though…

Besides, you hadn’t even really been properly introduced since that day he surprise adopted you(kidnapped). Perhaps he should make conversation? He shakes his head at the thought, sitting in his designated chair, just watching.

Your scales flash and flicker sparkles of light in the empty tent. Maybe that’s why he captured you in the first place? You were beautiful. And his did he love seeing those pretty glittery tears roll down your cheeks when you’d first met.

A smile plays over his lips when you catch him staring, your eyes narrowing for a moment before you press against the glass, blowing bubbles at him from under the water. You say something he can’t quite hear.

In a curious haze, he stands, walking up to your fishbowl, looking at each tally you’d engraved into the glass.

“Why won’t you let me go?” You hum, the water making your voice somehow sound prettier that ever, the slight muffle making him hum.

“Because I like sad songs.” He jokes, circling your glass prison.

How typical of him, to joke in a serious situation like this, well serious to you at least. He really takes time to observe you, the way your scales seem to be some sort of opalescent chrome.

How your hair floats around your face, your gills opening and closing ever so slightly. He admires the smaller fins adorning your spine and forearms. He wonders if you’re insecure about them.

“Sing for me.”

It’s a demand, and before you can protest, he’s already back in his chair, watching, resting his head against his closed fist.

Even though you feel obligated, your voice and song feel softer now. Almost as if the small interaction with the captain had only slightly lifted your spirit.

And somehow your hymn didn’t seem so dismal.

#x reader #reader is a siren #i don't care he's hot #one piece live action #one piece #opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece buggy #one piece x reader #buggy the clown #op buggy #buggy the clown x reader #angst?

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fieldofdaisiies · 3 days

Text

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 7

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2k words | warnings: mentions of trauma | masterlist

Your neck is aching when you throw it back and release a loud groan. Your eyes are already burning from staring into books the whole day. Outside Velaris has already entered the night – many hours ago–, but you are still sitting here, your back sore from being bent over the books for hours.

The orange candle on the table, the only light source in the living room of the house of wind at this point, has almost burnt down to nothing, but you need it just a few more minutes.

You are so close, you know it. The solution is right there, you just need to grasp it.

Reaching forward, you place your hand on the onyx box, sharp nails piercing into it. With the index finger of your other hand you trail over some ancient spells written in lettering that is now longer used. The spells are most likely witches runes, you are not familiar with them, but with the help of Nesta and maybe also Amren, you will be able to open the box.

You can feel it. You can feel how the small casket reacts to your touch, to the idea of being opened. It is burning with emotion, so hot your palm heats.

You are so close – so close to opening this damn box. And so close to freedom. You will be allowed to roam freely when this is over, no one will ever lock you away again. Once the box is open you will demand your amulet back. With it your powers will return and then you are gone. To the continent or wherever the wind takes you.

Gone…involuntarily your thoughts wander to the shadowsinger. He is also gone. Has been gone for a few days now. Gone just like back then. When he left you behind, broken and bloody. He did not even check to see if you are alright. If your wounds are too deep. If you will survive.

Rhysand’s words hollow in your mind, loud, strong, and you force your eyes closed, fighting against the tears.

“My father…he threatened the other female in Azriel’s life. The only other female he would have given his life for. This was the only way to protect you both.”

All those years, you have wondered what Azriel’s reasons were. Why he betrayed you like this. Why he never came to see you. You don’t know if you will ever be able to forgive him, but what you know is that you want to give him another chance to talk. You want to hear it from him. Everything. Every little thing he has to say. You want him to talk about his mother, about how he locked you in the Prison, the moments after it, the moment when he found out what the Harp was capable of. He owes you all the explanations and you owe him your time to listen.

You shake your head, directing every thought that threatens to stray into Azriel’s direction at matter at hand again – Koschei’s onyx box. You need to open it and you are so close. You flip over to the next page, finding more cryptic lettering. Your eyes are closed when your fingers trail over the words, the runes, the pictures and you feel it. This is it.

Jumping up, the chair scratches over the ground with a loud noise. You need to find Nesta, and you need to find her now. You really hope she is not currently otherwise occupied with a certain general of the Illyrian armies because you really need to talk to her.

Blowing out the candle, you turn swiftly and head for the corridor, running as fast as your feet can take you, your thin, silken gown swishing around your legs. You head up the stairs, towards Nesta and Cassian’s main bedroom, but stop dead in your tracks when your eyes land on him. When his moan of agony pierces through your mind.

The door to his bathroom is open, his bloody chest exposed, large wings draped on the ground, his hands braced on the edges of the sink.

You can’t tear your eyes away and fully on your own accord your feet start to walk, no longer moving you towards Nesta’s room, but to him. You can’t stop yourself, it is like something is pulling you to him. And you know what it is – the tug on your chest. Before his betrayal you had loved the idea of it. Then everything came crashing down, and you hated it. You have been clamping down on the feeling of it for centuries, pushing it away, but now seeing him bloody and wounded –seeing your mate bloody and wounded– fire ignites deep within your soul, the bond once more coming alive inside of you.

“Azriel.” Your voice trembles, heart squeezing at the gaping wounds marring his entire torso, dripping with blood and puss. It looks awful and painful. Your fingers curl towards your palms.

He whips his head into your direction, and with a crooked smile, he says, “It isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“Bullshit,” you answer and step into the bathroom. “You look like you have been attacked by a beast, those wounds are deep. You need a healer to look over them.” When your eyes lifts, they clash with his.

“Don’t act like you care,” he mumbles, holding your gaze.

“You have no right to snap at me, Azriel,” you answer in a stern voice, “not after everything that has happened between us, not after everything you did to me.”

“I am sorry.”

“I know.” You close the door behind you and fully move into the room, reaching for the cloth on the sink that is no longer white, but has no a pinkish colour, stained from all the blood. You clasp it tightly in your hand, and without saying a word, attach the cloth to Azriel’s wounded skin. He sucks in a sharp intake of air, then holds his breath and lets you do your work. “I am ready to talk, Azriel.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers curl around the edge of the sink, scarred knuckles turning white. “I needed time, I needed time to adapt, to understand, to progress, but I am ready to talk now.” You tip your head back and meet his hazel eyes, a flicker of hope within them now that you revealed that you are ready to talk to him.

“Rhysand told me about your mother.”

“His father threatened to execute her. I needed to protect her, but I need you to know that I didn’t choose her over you. I was…torn. I only had a few people in my life that I loved, and risking one’s life for that of another…I only tried to–”

“Keep us both safe. I know this now.” Your hand moves lower, brushing over a wound on his lower belly that disappears behind the pants of his Illyrian leathers.

“I was trying to get you out. I was looking for ways once all threats were gone, but…only when we found the Harp I had a solution on how to do it. I knew how I was going to get you.”

You nod slowly, and put the cloth aside. “Let’s patch you up and then we talk properly, yes?”

It is a big step you are taking, but you know you have to do it. You finally have to talk to him. Your heart is racing both with panic about being so close to the person that has hurt you most in your life, but also with relief that you can finally be near him without feeling like the air to breathe has been stolen from you. He still unnerves you, but now that you have learned more about why he acted like this, talking to him seems easier.

You have to talk to him. For yourself. You need to know everything. Find out what really were his reasons.

“In my room?” Azriel asks in a calm voice.

You nod again and set out to do exactly what you said – patching him up.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

“He showed me what he would do to her. All the cruel things. And all the cruel things he would do to you. He invaded my mind and showed it to me.”

You find yourself nodding again, tears lining your eyes. You sit next to him on the bed, Azriel’s head resting on the pillow, close to your hips, his chest now bandaged, his body covered by the thin bed sheet. “I had no choice.”

You want to tell him that everyone always has a choice, but in this case, this was truly the only way to do it. You have been listening to him for the past hour or even longer, soft moonlight filtering in through the curtain-framed windows. It is the only lightsource, but you don’t need more. You close your eyes, your soul for the first time calm and at ease in his presence. Azriel has been talking the whole time, a rarity you think, because centuries ago when you were together he was always rather calm.

“Did it really hurt you to put me in the Prison?”

You feel the bed shift next to you, and a moment later his scarred digits brush your hand. “What a question…” You can hear how he draws in a deep inhale and his hand closes tightly around yours. “It tore me apart. It felt like someone ripped out my heart, and tore it into pieces. Like my soul lost its life, like it was diminished and I could never ever feel happiness again. All the years, the centuries that passed, where I couldn’t free you, destroyed more parts of my soul.”

You slide down on the pillow, not letting go of his hand, until you are on eye-level with him. His head is turned to you, and he is already looking at you when you open your lids.

“I knew the first moment I could find a way to free you, to get you out, I would do it. You were bound to the Prison by the High Lord’s magic, you couldn’t get out alone, not even if I had tried to. It was only possible through the Harp – the Dead Trove’s magic is stronger than any High Lord’s.”

You deep your chin, nodding slowly, the back of your mouth aching. “I thought you hated me, you loathed and feared me just like everyone else. That our whole relationship was a false-pretence.”

His throat bobs. “I didn’t fake a single thing – every I love you, every kiss, every hug, whenever we made love, I meant it all. And I meant when I said that I would protect you…I never meant to hurt you. To destroy you.”

You shift closer on the bed. “Do you know why your soul hurt after you put me into the Prison?”

“Because I lost the love of my life.” He pushes up on his elbows, groaning due to the wounds on his chest that have not yet healed. He shifts onto his side, now looking directly at you, but you shake your head.

“No, Azriel,” you say, “your soul hurt because we were mates and the bond broke the moment you closed the gates to my cell.”

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @azrielsmate2 @callmeblaire @lilah-asteria

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel

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niki-phoria · 12 days

Note

Hello! It's one of my first times asking for something, so forgive me if it seems strange or if I spell something wrong! Feel free to ignore this too!

I was looking at your Jjk list and realized that our beautiful boy Yuuji doesn't have a story there yet, so I had an idea!

something like Itadori and Reader (gn or male) were in a fight together, and Sukuna ends up appering to deal with the whole situation, and as a result, he ends up hurting the reader on purpose to bother Yuuji, so he is left feeling very bad and guilty , so ends up “ignoring” reader, because he keep blaming himself

I only thought until this part (srry), I would like an ending with something cute and fluff ig? 👉👈 (i like angst with a happy ending)

WEREN'T WE THE STARS IN HEAVEN?

pairing: itadori yuuji x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: angst word count: 758

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of blood, poorly written fight scene

notes: thank you so much !! i hope you like it :)) split this into two parts to make it easier to write lol, possibly ooc sukuna but i did my best, title from adrianne lenker - anything

part 02 here !!

shibuya is empty. desolate, even. eerily so. even after spending only a few months in tokyo, ITADORI YUUJI had grown accustomed to the noise. the bustling crowds and noisy tourists had become commonplace - almost a comfort at the end of a long night. if nothing else, at least the people were safe.

until they weren’t.

your lungs burn as you race through the remains of shibuya station. the walls are splattered with a mixture of blood and curse remains. there are no longer complaints from people about being trapped inside of the station. there are no longer stray groans from mahito’s transformed humans. there are no longer screams of terror.

you feel sick.

you force yourself to run faster when you see a figure standing in the distance, near what remains of the bathrooms. water seeps across the tiles from nearby, probably damaged in the midst of a fight. “yuuji!”

he doesn’t have a visible reaction. your footsteps slow to a stop as you take in the sight of him. his clothes are ripped and tattered but there are no visible injuries on his body. beneath the flickering lights above, you can just barely make out the blood stains littering his clothing.

“yuuji?”

he turns to face you, smirking over his shoulder. you take a step backwards, shoes slipping on a puddle of water on the floor. there’s a dark glint in his eyes - one that you’ve never seen before. “not anymore.”

“sukuna,” your breath hitches.

he frowns, mockingly pouting as he begins walking towards you. “that’s not how you should address your lord.”

anger flares in your chest. your hands curl into fists, nails digging into your palms. you grit your teeth, aiming towards sukuna’s jaw as you swing.

he evades it easily, languidly pushing his hands into his pockets. “i’m hurt, y/n,” he mocks. “i can’t believe you would hit your own boyfriend.”

“shut up!” another swing. another miss.

sukuna laughs. he watches you with amusement; like you’re an ant beneath his foot he’s pushing around just for the sake of his own entertainment.

he’s fast. almost faster than your own reflexes. your punches only ever meet air as he dances around you. “does it bother you?” sukuna asks. his breath ghosts against your ear as he leans in. “knowing that yuuji’s power comes from a curse. does it scare you?”

you swallow your insults, instead focusing your attention on aiming your punches at the right time. he frowns. “ignoring me now? that won’t do.”

sukuna raises his leg, swiftly landing a hit against your side. you’re barely given time to react before your body slams into the wall.

the pain comes hard and fast. it’s agonizing. it feels like you’re on fire. every part of your body begs you to give up; to lay down and crumble into a ball on the ground. but you can’t. you won’t.

blood pools in your mouth, dripping down the corners of your lips. debris surrounds you. you can feel pieces of rock and concrete digging into your hands as you push yourself up onto your hands and knees.

your attempts are quickly ripped away when sukuna kicks your side once again. you land on your back this time, staring up at the ceiling through blurry vision. your head aches.

“pathetic human.” sukuna smirks over you. the heel of his boot digs into your chest, pushing your body down further into the rubble. your eyes flutter shut. if you’re going to die, you’re not going to give sukuna ryomen the satisfaction of being the last thing you see.

the force of sukuna’s weight forces a weak cough out of your lungs. he raises his foot once again before he pauses, humming to himself. “i wonder what the brat would think of this.”

time seems to still as your consciousness begins to slip. you can feel yourself growing weaker. your breaths are shallower. it’s harder to get air into your lungs. your racing heartbeat has also slowed. it no longer pounds loudly in your ears. instead, a dull ringing has replaced the noise.

nothing feels real. yuuji is yelling your name. he’s on his knees; his face hovers over you.

yuuji looks different. the black marks across his skin have disappeared, leaving only pale skin behind. hands that have the power to snap bones and destroy buildings are gentle as they cup your cheeks. he wipes away blood and dust and tears.

“yuuji,” you whisper. at least, you try to. and then-

the world goes black.

shibuya is empty.

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milswrites · 3 months

Text

Irreplaceable

~Azriel X Reader

Summary: While on a mission with Azriel, Y/N finds herself captured by the enemy. Will Azriel get to her in time to save her or must Y/N find another way out of this situation.

Warnings: Angst. Graphic descriptions of wounds. Mentions of torture. Violence. Minor character death. Badass MC with a happy ending though :).

Notes: Most definitely should have been two parts I’m sorry for the length <3

Your eyes flickered open slowly, lids struggling to lift fully as your head agonisingly throbbed in pain. Even through your blurred vision you could tell the surroundings were unfamiliar and there wasn’t much information to gain from them other than the fact you were locked in a cell and it was dark. Very dark. The only source of light being the dim flicker of candlelight that squeezed its way through the edges of the door before you, the shadow in your cell dancing in the soft glow that broke through.

Aching, you tried to move, twitching your fingers only to be met with an unsettling numbness that travelled up your arm. Forcing your eyes to open fully, sight becoming less foggy, you glanced to your side. Your eyes drifted from your shoulder and followed the length of your dirty, blood-stained arm to your hand. Your hand, which you had only now noticed was softly trembling, was a picture of horror. A large, rusted nail had found its home in the centre of your palm. Clearly the wound had been there a while as the blood down your arm and on the floor was cracked and dry, congealed around the base of the nail where it met the skin of your hand. Alarmed, your eyes snapped to the other side, head throbbing at the fast movement. Your other hand bore the same wound. Choking back a sob, you stilled your breathing, the anxiety-born shaking your body was doing was only causing you more pain in your hands. You were pinned to the wall like a piece of art. Like you were a trophy.

A sudden wave of panic flooded your system as you recalled how you ended up here in the first place, Azriel was with you on the mission where you had been knocked out and captured. Your wide, alarmed eyes scanned the room, there was no sign of him in here. No traces or makings on the floor that showed any sign of a struggle other than that of your own. Was he safe? Or was he trapped somewhere in this building in another cell? You wondered if he had managed to slip way and if he was looking for you, if he would come save you from entrapment and carry you back to Velaris where you would be safe. Cursing yourself, you shook the thoughts from your mind, you were disposable to him. A young, newly trained spy for the night court. Azriel wouldn’t risk his safety and the safety of his court to ensure your well-being.

You prayed to the mother that Azriel wasn’t in the same situation as you. Locked up in a separate cell. From the moment you met him, when he had saved you from the beating your father was gifting you in Hewn City, you knew you couldn’t just be friends with Azriel. Over the past year of training under him you would be a fool to deny that you had fallen under his spell, those feelings that sparked in you when you first laid eyes on him the day you met only grew and grew until they were a wildfire. The countless hours spent by his side working, training and travelling for your court did nothing but amplify your school-girl crush on the spymaster. But it would be ridiculous for you to assume you ever meant anything more to him than just another person to train. He had never shown much interest in you other than when it came to training and work. In fact most days he struggled to meet your eyes, mumbling the days tasks to you as he busied his gaze elsewhere. There was no way Azriel reciprocated your feelings. But it didn’t matter now. Now you were trapped and this cruel form of punishment bestowed upon you was surely a sign you would not be making it out of here alive.

~~~

Eyes stinging with tears, you brushed all thoughts of your unrequited love aside. Now was not the time to get distracted, all your energy had to be directed into finding a way out of this situation. If Azriel was here you had to make sure you wouldn’t do anything stupid that could end up unintentionally harming him in the process. But if he was here, and wasn’t too heavily injured, you’d both at least have a chance of fighting your way out of this.

If he wasn’t…you would have to attempt this alone and in your injured state. You could wait and see what they wanted from you, see if they kept you alive but the chances of them letting you go were slim to none. You could wait, hope Azriel got back to Velaris and told Rhysand of your capture, hope that they deemed your disposable life worth saving. You didn’t see the likelihood of either option.

No. You would have to try and find a way to discover if Azriel is here and if not it was up to you to ensure your safety. To try and work your way out of this cell in a place you don’t know, guarded by an unknown number of people. The odds were not in your favour.

By this point the tears were freely flowing down your cheeks, despite attempting to hold the sounds in, small sniffles and sorrowful whimpers forced their way out of your mouth. A small part of you wondered if it would be easier to just stay here, anything they were going to do to you already was surely better than what they would unleash upon you if you tried to escape. Head pounding, you awkwardly rested it on your shoulder, the weight of it causing you arm to shift downwards a small amount, your hand seizing with pain as the nail rubbed against the open wound once more.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain. Maybe it would be easy to just shut your eyes and pray for a swift death. Hope that if you close them and sleep you won’t have to open them again. As if replying to your thoughts, you felt a small tug in your chest, an unusual sensation that you wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact the lack of sound and light in your cell had made your senses very sensitive to even the smallest change. Hope bloomed in your chest, filling your body and soothing your thoughts of giving up. You would try. If it was fate that you were going to die here then at least you would go out fighting. At least you would die trying to stay alive, trying to get back to Azriel.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there since waking, coming up with scenario after scenario, plan after plan. The new sense of determination that coursed through you, prevented you from getting the rest your body so desperately craved. The pain in your hands had reduced, the unbearable stinging was replaced with a dull numbness, you weren’t sure whether that was because the wounds were actually getting better or because you had grown used to the pain. Certain that you’d have to remove the nails soon for fear of infection, you kept them in. You would play the role of their prisoner as long as you were unsure that Azriel was locked up here as well. Only when you found out he was safe would you risk removing the nails and escaping.

The screeching sound of a metal door opening in the distance broke the silence. It was the first sound you had heard that hadn’t been made by you. Your head raised quickly, ears twitching with anticipation as you tried to listen and gather what information you could. There was no speaking, but definitely the sound of multiple footsteps, gradually getting louder as they moved closer. Two? No, three pairs of feet. You were grateful for Azriel’s intense training that allowed you to come to this conclusion. Taking down one person in this situation would have been easy, even with the nails, but three? No you would bide your time. Their footsteps got louder and louder until they stopped. They had come to a halt outside your cell.

Unsure of how to handle this, you dropped your head to your shoulder again at the sound of rattling keys, softly grunting at the pain that flashed through your skull, your eyes snapped shut, pretending to still be unconscious.

The door slowly creaked open, only one pair of footsteps came into the cell, the other two people staying outside.

“I told you that you hit the bitch too hard”

It was difficult not to flinch at the gruffness of the man’s voice, but you managed to stay still, keep your breaths deep and eyes closed. He huffed, unsatisfied at your believed unconscious state, clearly having come to your cell hoping you’d be awake for him to torture some night court secrets from you. Hoping to stir you, you heard the scrape of his boot against the stone floor before you felt it collide against your ribs. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of you waking for him only so he can undoubtedly prod and poke at you until he felt he had enough information, you lolled your head forward, hands tugging downwards against the nails. You bit back your cry of pain, hoping this action was enough for him to leave you be.

He nudged your leg with his foot a few times, body shaking but you continued to play your part. Until finally he released a disappointed sound and you heard his feet dragging towards the door.

“What did I say? The spymaster would have been the better choice than his pet, shame you let him get away.” And with that he exited your cell, you heard the sound of the lock clicking shut and the low mumble of the man say to his companion, “stay here, send for me when she wakes. Then we can try have some fun.” Muffled steps walked back towards where they originally came from. Two pairs. Only one man had stayed behind to watch the cell.

Now the cell was once again empty and you were in the safety of your own company you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, eyes flicking to the door in realisation you’d have to be quiet now there was a guard outside. Azriel was safe, he hadn’t been captured. Resisting the urge to cry once more you now hardened your emotions. You had to find your opportunity, try and find a way out of this hell before the man came back and realised you were awake. You needed to get out of this cell and get far away from here, you had never learnt to winnow so you’ll have to run, perhaps if you’re lucky you’ll have some idea where you are and where you can go to.

But first you had to sort out the predicament you were in. The nails had to come out. By this point your panic was almost unbearable, this was going to hurt. Your deep shaky breaths doing nothing to quell the rising anxiety in your body. That odd tug you felt earlier in your chest once more showed itself but in your terrified state it just felt like your heart was trying to rip itself out of your body.

~~~

It must have taken an hour or more for you to calm yourself, steady your breathing and prepare yourself for the worse. Ideally you knew you should sleep, gain some energy back that you no doubt were going to need to aid in what you were about to do. However, rest wasn’t an option. You’d already wasted enough time in your panic, sure that if you waited any longer your captor would return.

In fear of being too loud and alerting the man stood outside you moved your head down and bit into the thick collar of the Illyrian leathers you wear for your missions. And you pulled. Starting with your left hand, you pulled it forward, teeth clenching onto the leathers hard. An uncomfortable mixture of sweat and tears streamed down your face as your wound that had healed around the nail broke open, hand flying forward and off of the nail lodged in the wall. One hand was free, now for the other.

Wanting to get it over with you gripped the nail in your right hand with your really released left one, blood streaming down your arm. Once more you pulled only this time you tugged at the nail itself. Mouth falling open in a silent scream, you managed to get it out of the wall and out of your hand. A bitter chuckle slipping from your lips, these idiots locked you in a cell with nails for weapons, even with the knowledge that you were trained by the spymaster himself.

With the wounds in your palms soaked in blood, you used a nail to tear at the bottom of your leathers. Ripping two strips of material from your top, you wrapped them around your hands, pulling the ends tight with your teeth to make sure they were secure. You weren’t sure how hard you would have to fight to make your way out of this.

Once your hands were wrapped you took the nail back into your hands, flipping it from either hand to test its weight and flexing your fingers to make sure that when you needed to use them the ache in your hands wouldn’t be a hindrance.

It was time. There was one man outside and all you needed to do was to get him to open the cell and kill him. Weighing out your options until you settled on the easiest, hoping he would fall for it and so you yelled out.

“Excuse me!…. Can-… can you please help me? I need a drink.”

You made sure to sound as weak and pathetic as you could, which honestly wasn’t hard considering the situation you were in. Listening, you heard him stand to attention, having not expected your voice. You take in his hesitant steps in the direction the rest of his friends went in, clearly wanting to go get them. Desperation spiking in you that this was your only chance, you tried again.

“Please! Just some water, it’s not like I can try anything anyways.”

A string of expletives followed. Then the sound of sloshing water. Standing where the door would open you braced yourself, nail in hand and stance wide. A click of the key turning. A grunt as the heavy metal door is forced open. Light glaring through the gap. And nothing. Your nail finding its home in his throat before he could live to make another sound, body slumping onto the floor of your cell, a pool of blood forming around him.

Checking him for weapons you grabbed his sword, it was too heavy but it was better than the nail so it would have to do, hopefully you wouldn’t need to use it. The last thing you grabbed were his keys to the cell from the door, tucking them into your pocket, unsure whether they will be needed in your escape.

Stepping out into the corridor you glanced around. There was only one way out and that was the way the men from earlier had left from. You steeled yourself and pushed forwards, walking down the cell corridor and opening the door. Met with yet another corridor on the other side, you picked a direction and walked that way, thanking the mother there was no one around and praying to the cauldron that no one would come.

The architecture was unfamiliar, you were definitely in unknown territory. The halls winded on and on, the more you walked the more stressed you became, sure that if you were to go through any more of them you were going to get caught. As if the mother had taken pity on your already situation and heard your silent pleas of despair the next corner you turned had an archway that led outside. Adrenaline coursed through you as you bolted to the arch, eyes squinting in the brightness of the sun.

Now out in the open you wildly scanned your surroundings, choosing the best pathway forward to ensure you had the best chance of escape possible. It was busy outside, stalls full of market goods, with people bustling about them. Afraid of being caught you hid your bloodied arms and sword behind your back but thankfully when you scanned over the crowd you didn’t lay eyes on anyone who looked like a threat.

Hesitating, you were lost on which direction to go in, until out the corner of your eye you caught a merchant’s horse and carriage, a large chest situated on the back. Perfect. Skillfully, you snuck past the crowd of people gathered together, all stretching their necks to look at something you couldn’t see, and you opened the chest. It was empty. At this point you were grinning widely, and you hopped into the chest, hands throbbing as you gripped the edge to haul yourself up into it before pulling the lid to, enclosing yourself in darkness.

You hadn’t been in the chest long when the owners had returned and thankfully they had not opened the chest and found you, bloodied and dirty hiding inside. The carriage pulled away and you have to admit you weren’t the most comfortable, already sore head banging against the wall of the chest with every bump in the road, but it was a whole lot better than being inside of that cell. You didn’t know where this carriage was heading to, but you would catch a lift as long as possible before you had to get out and gather your bearings. Exhaustion overwhelmed you as the adrenaline slowly dripped from your system and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you could stop your eyes drooping as sleep eventually caught up with you.

~~~

You woke up to an overwhelming bright light and a petrified scream. Startling, you sat up in shock and attempted to take in your surroundings, the lid of the chest had been opened and you were staring into the face of a horribly distressed woman who was clearly not expecting to find you inside.

“Shhhh… it’s ok, I’m sorry. I’m leaving” you tried to sooth her as you speedily hopped out of the chest, taking your sword with you. Turning in a circle you took note of the inn before you and the dense forest that surrounded the area.

Unfortunately, the sight of your blood-stained arms and the glint of your sharp edged sword did nothing to calm the merchant lady who was screaming bloody murder. You backed off, arms raised in surrender, eyes travelling to the group of angry men standing outside of an inn, whose attention had been caught by the wailing woman. You cursed, brain trying to come up with excuses you could give to get them off your back so you could be on your way but your stream of thoughts was interrupted by the ringing of bells that had started in the distance, presumably where you had just escaped from. Fuck. The carriage hadn’t taken you as far as you’d have hoped.

“They ringing those for you sweetheart?” One of the men asked, cracking his knuckles together after having seen the panic flash through your eyes over the sound of the bells, “we’d get a pretty penny for bringing you in if that’s the case.”

At this point you weren’t even going to stop and try talk your way out of this. Azriel had always said your tongue would get you killed one day. So you didn’t only thing you could think of. You ran. Bolting towards the forest behind you, you moved as quickly as you could, muscles burning after your limbs had been squeezed together in the chest for a little too long. Shouts broke out behind you and you knew that they had followed. The haunting sound of the bells still carried in the wind, a reminder of the place you had come from. A reminder of where you’ll be stuck at once more if you don’t get yourself out of this. That is if the brutes don’t bring you in dead.

You run and you run, throat squeezing in agony at every breath. But no matter how fast you could run it was no use, you could hear their jeers and taunts getting louder, voices turning gleeful as they realised there was no way you could get away. Adamant you weren’t going to get captured again after putting in all that effort of getting out you didn’t give up, flying through the trees until your feet dragged you to a halt. You were met with the rocky face of a cliff.

Survival instincts still being in control of your body, you grabbed the rocks, trying to pull yourself up the rocky feature in order to scramble to the top to get away from the brutes chasing you, but the flash of agony up that started in your damaged palms and flashed up your arms reminded you that you were injured. Your hands shot open at the burst of pain and you fell off the side of the cliff and onto the floor. Scrambling to your feet, you turned back round to face the forest and gripped your sword as tight as your hands allowed. No more running. You were going to have to fight your way out.

~~~

Snarling at the men as they approached did nothing to deter them, horrible grins plastered on their faces as they rounded in on you. Even if you weren’t as injured and exhausted as you were you were certain you still wouldn’t be able to take them all, not by yourself.

The boldest of the men, the one who had called you out outside of the inn, lunged forward, sword swinging towards you. You jumped backwards, reactions sluggish as the sword caught your arm and your back slammed against the rock face behind, a shout of pain came from your lips. Insistent on the fact you won’t go back to the cell, you clenched your jaw and advanced, raising your sword. You would die here sooner than being a captive of the men who took you again.

Azriel.

The memory of him flashed through your eyes. Tears of frustration falling down your cheeks at the thought of the man you were never able to have. Once more thankful that he hadn’t been captured with you, thankful that you wouldn’t see the disappointment on his face as he realised that even after all his training you were still too weak to fight your way out of this. His name, a final prayer on your lips as you hope that whoever he finds himself stuck with next does better than you had.

Then you fight. The world around a blur of swords, spears and limbs, unsure whether you were actually hitting anyone you swung your sword around you, parrying blows and kicking people back. The holes in your hands cracking open and bleeding once more, blood causing your grip to slip, unable to keep a firm hold on the hilt.

It only took one more move from your attackers and your sword went flying. Instinctively your hands shot to your leathers expecting to find your holsters for your daggers, only to remember they were stripped from you before you woke in your cell. You didn’t even have the nails that were lodged in your hands with you, both left in the cell you escaped from, one in the throat of one of your captors.

The hilt of one of the men’s sword caught you in the back. Weaponless, you fell to your knees in defeat before you closed your eyes. This was it. They would either kill you or take you back and there was nothing more you could do but shut your eyes as to avoid seeing the gleeful smiles of victory on their faces as they enact their final punishments. Your ears rang, their voices all blurred into one mass of yelling. The bells. All you could hear was the bells as you gripped your head, crying out and waiting for the death blow.

But it never came. You were aware of the change in atmosphere around you, maybe even aware of the screams that had began breaking out. But you stayed focussed on holding your head, fingers plunged into your ears as you sat on the floor, rocking backwards and forwards. The haunting sounds of the bells calling for your death lingered. It seemed as if they were getting louder and louder until they stopped altogether at the call of your name.

“Y/N”

Hands grabbed you. Pulling your hands from your head. A crack in their voice that must have been born from the realisation of the state your hands were in.

“Y/N can you hear me?”

It was Azriel. Still unable to open your eyes a you laughed. The mother worked in strange ways but you never could have predicted that death would arrive to you in the form of Azriel. Your final moments met with the soothing tones of his deep voice. And so with limbs like lead, body tired and unmoving you allowed yourself to drift off for the final time, a whisper upon your lips that was met with a cry.

“I’m ready”

~~~

Your pain had returned. The wounds on your palms so unbearable it drew a whine from your lips. Pain so intense it was clear you had somehow survived. You were in a bed, you could feel the soft sheets against your back and the weight of a blanket above you. The information did nothing to quell the fear inside you. Fear that when you opened your eyes you would be back with your captors. Your heart rate increased, the muscle thudding in your chest and you pressed your eyes together so hard it hurt.

“Hey…hey, don’t do that, it’s ok you’re safe”

Azriel’s voice broke through the silence. Your ever increasing heartbeat stilled. You were safe. You jumped upright, eyes snapping open. Azriel not expecting this fell backwards into his chair in shock before realising what was happening and was then rushing forward to steady you as you swayed from the fogginess that had found its home in your head.

“Woah careful now, it’s alright it’s just me. You’re home” his voice shaky as he moved his hands from where they were gripping either side of your shoulders, running them gently down your arms before they settled over your bandaged hands which were laid in front of you.

Brain frog still present, you just couldn’t put together how you got there. Azriel wasn’t with you when you were captured, “how… how did you-“

Already knowing the question being asked he promptly replied, “the second they took you I went straight back to Rhysand for help. It was hard ignoring the… the need to get you back as quickly as possible but I knew I’d be stupid to do it on my own,” he swallowed hard, as if the subject of your capture was a difficult one for him, “I tried to tell you we were coming, find out where you were I tried to tell you through…well I tried to tell you.”

He took in another deep breath, “ and then we found out where you were, only when we got there the bells were ringing and you were gone. We were too late, you’d gotten out on your own because you thought we weren’t coming,” at this point pearlescent tears were flowing down his cheeks, “I didn’t give up and I kept searching for you and when I finally found you and you were knelt before all those men covered in blood…I…I.”

Even though you were the one who had been captured and pinned to the wall, and chased down by a hoard of angry men, watching Azriel break down in front of you because he thought he had failed you had to be one of the worst things you’ve ever experienced.

“Azriel,” you croaked, throat dry from lack of water, “the only reason I’m here now is because of you. The thought of you is what kept me alive in that cell and it was your training which was the reason I was able to escape,” it was at this point that you were sobbing along with the spymaster, “and I know for damn certain that I definitely wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t found me in those woods. So thank you Azriel, thank you for saving my life.”

You slowly lifted a shaking, bandaged hand to his cheek, thumb brushing away his tears, pain shooting up your arm at the action but you didn’t care. You only cared that this beautiful man before you hadn’t given up on you. That all the while you were captured he had been searching for you. Trying to get a message to you. That all the time in the cell you had spent thinking of him, he was thinking of you too.

His lips softly brushed over your bandage, right where the hole of your palm was stinging underneath. It was an intimate moment, your wrapped hand against his face was possibly the most you’d ever touched him aside from training.

Perhaps out of fear of that you weren’t worthy of Azriel, that he couldn’t possibly like you as much as you’ve grown to love him over the past year, you drew your hand away from his face, ending the moment. Agonisingly tearing your eyes away from his perfect face to settle them on your ruined hands which were now uncomfortably laid on your lap.

“So, uh. Did you find my replacement?” You asked nervously, dreading what he was going to say in response but knowing you’d rather get the pain of it over with sooner rather than later. Especially since the feel of your hand on his cheek had ignited that odd feeling in your chest.

For the second time since awakening, you had Azriel shocked, “r-replace you?”

“I failed right? I got captured and if it wasn’t for you I’d be dead right now. Surely you can see I wasn’t made for this, that I should just go back to my father-“

His eyes now full of fury, Azriel cut you off, “You Y/N L/N are irreplaceable,” he moved his body so he was sat at the edge of the bed, hands holding onto yours, “you are the strongest woman I know and there is no one, no one else, that I could wish to be at my side more than I wish for it to be you.” The rage in his eyes settled, morphing into an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on and he continued, “in the past year of being together you have changed me as a person more than I care to admit and I can not, no I will not, carry on living my life without you by my side. You are irreplaceable… because you are mine.”

That was all you had ever dreamed of hearing and you just couldn’t believe it was true. Azriel felt the same way for you as you did for him, and so in fear of it being a cruel dream made up by your conscious, or afraid he would come to his scenes and change his mind, you crashed your lips to his.

Mouths connecting in firey passion, you poured every ounce of love and affection you had locked away in your heart the past year into it, hoping Azriel would understand just how much he was yours as you were his. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as he gripped your face in his hands. You were unsure what to do with your damaged hands, still placed in your lap, but that didn’t matter, nothing about this kiss was awkward or painful. It was as if his lips were made for you, fitting together with yours like it was the missing piece of a puzzle and every part of you wanted to jump right into whatever this was between you and explore every single part of it.

It was only when the two of you needed to breathe that you broke away from the kiss. Still tangled in a sweet embrace, you gazed into his eyes, now certain that unreadable emotion you had seen swimming in them earlier was love. And it was this realisation of his love that caused the tugging sensation, the one that had been occurring in your chest since you found yourself in that cell, to finally pull free. It dull knot that you hadn’t even known was there, morphed into a beautiful golden thread which linked you to Azriel.

Azriel who’s gorgeous smile bloomed at the sight of you realising you were looking into the eyes of your mate, the person created for you. Your equal. And as he began to litter kisses all over your face and neck he mumbled in your ear the sweetest words you have ever heard, “my beautiful, irreplaceable mate.”

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #sarah j maas

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 1 month

Note

The attractive voice part 3 please! When Donnie and reader decide to meet in real life together! :D

The Attractive Voice: part 3 (Angst?/Fluff)

2007!Donatello x reader

Part 1 (Fluff) Part 2 (18+)

A/N: This one is not 18+, as it didn’t seem to fit quite right with what I had in mind💜

All characters are aged up

Warning: None, other than spelling💜

When do you call a relation between you and another person a relationship? After you called each other even day, just to hear the voice that made your hearts skip a beat, and put bright smiles on your faces? Or was it fitting to do so after you started to do everything together, with each other over the phone? Or could you do it after you and Donnie would stay on the phone together late at night, pleasuring yourselves to the sounds of the other? Well, maybe.

You and Donnie had not yet gotten to a point, where either of you had felt brave enough, to bring up the topic of relationship status or titles. You feared that a conversation like that would scare Donnie away, while Donnie feared a talk about relationship status would bring up another topic - meeting up in real life.

During all your conversations, Donnie feared the day you would ask to see or meet him. He had no idea how to react the day you would ask to meet him. He really wanted to meet you, and the face of the person he had been talking to for so long. But how was he going to explain his appearance? Was he just going to tell you that he in fact was a mutant turtle, and just hope that you would go with it? Or let alone believe him. And that was making Donnie nervous.

But while Donnie was nervous, fearful the moment you would ask to see him, you had gotten curious. You were trying to create an image in your head, based on the few things you knew about Donatello. He had brown eyes, part Italian and part Japanese and very muscular. However, that was a pretty vague picture, so you had been starting to ask small questions. His height, his nose, his hair, his ears and so on. And with every question, you could hear the nervousness in Donnie’s voice when he vaguely answered. You chuckled it up to Donnie not being confident in his own appearance, and therefore you decided to not push him too far, too fast. You had plenty of time, so there was no need for rushing anything. But both of you knew, without telling each other, that it wouldn’t take long before that conversation would make its way up.

But life continued, slowly inching closer to the day that you and Donnie finally would meet. Even if it wasn’t in the way that you had expected.

You were walking home from work one evening, after your closing shift that weekend, dialing Donnie on your phone. Nothing about your sometimes late shifts, Donnie had asked you to call him when you walked home, so he could make sure that you were okay, all the way home to your apartment, with your door locked safely behind you. And even then you would stay on the phone together, talking late in the night, almost falling asleep on the phone together.

You started walking down the street with your phone to your ear, listening to the ringing as you waited for Donnie to pick up. The wind blew cold air around you, making you pull your jacket closer around you, sending looks down the street behind you. The ringing turned to beeping, and you looked at your phone in confusion, calling Donnie’s number once more. Why wasn’t he picking up? This wasn’t like Donnie. He always picked up, even if he was in the middle of something.

You looked at your phone, getting ready to text Donnie and ask him what was going on, when suddenly something large fell from above, slamming into the pavement from above, sending dust flying into the air, breaking the sidewalk in the process. You were horrified to see a large creature, with fur, horns, large yellow eyes and long sharp teeth, along with what looked like big hands and feet, with claws like nails at the end of each finger.

You staggered backwards, unable to take your eyes off the creature in front of you, hearing the low grunts as it heaved for air. Then suddenly, as the dust slowly started to settle, the creature turned its gaze towards you. You almost stumbled, feeling fear rush over you, causing you to freeze in its line of sight. It roared, the sound sending waves through you, yet you did not move. All you could do was scream. Scream and stare as it came rushing towards you, its claws ready to lash out at you.

But before any claws could get you, or any pain could befall your body, you were pushed out of the way - no, you were carried. In a pair of strong arms, carrying you off to a safer part of the street in a hurry. You looked up at your carrier, only to be met by a green face. A green face, a shell on their back, with a bow staff strapped on to said shell, and a purple bandana wrapped around your face, with a pair of eye holes, allowing you to see a pair of brown eyes.

You almost screamed, panic flashing across your face once more. First a monster falling from the top of a building, and now this. But your carrier was quick to hush you, placing you on your feet, maintaining eye contact as they held onto your shoulders. They were trying to comfort you.

“Don’t worry”, they said, in a familiar voice. A voice you could recognize anywhere. “I got you. Me and my brothers got this. You’re safe-”.

“Donnie?”, you asked, staring at him in shock.

They mutant turtles stared at you with wide eyes, feeling as if all air had been knocked out of him, forgetting all about the monster behind him, and his brothers that were currently trying to fight it.

“(Y/N)?”, he asked, his voice shivering. His hands shook on your shoulders, your eyes never leaving one another. Damn, he had some deep brown eyes.

Donnie felt his mouth go dry, several emotions rushing through him. Fear and happiness, along with pleasant surprise. You were there before him. You in your beautiful form - much more beautiful than he could ever had imagined you to be. But you were looking at him. His green turtle form, standing before you with his hands on your shoulders, unsure of what you thought of him. The mixture of emotions made his stomach hurt and his heart pound like crazy. He almost felt sick, fearing you would scream or yell. But before you could ever do such a thing, there was shouting from Donnie’s brothers, followed by the monster storming towards the two of you.

Donnie acted quick, pushing you behind him and pulled his bow staff from his shell, taking a stance before the creature. You watched as Donnie swung his staff at the creature, hitting it over the head, causing it to whimper and back up a bit, giving Donnie’s brothers enough time to come and help him out. However, during the ensuing struggle, the monster managed to get away. With a loud roar, it jumped to the top of the nearby building, before running into the night, causing the four brothers to groan in annoyance. But Donnie did not.

Donnie turned to you, fearful of what he would see. He expected you to be scared of him, tell him to never talk to you again, and run away. He feared that you were horrified by not just his looks, but this sudden introduction to not only his appearance, but the life he was living. But to his surprise, you still stood there, your expression shocked, but with a glint of admiration. If there had been any disgust, it was impossible for Donnie to detect, even as he tried to look for it in your beautiful face.

“Listen, (Y/N)”, he started, hoping that he could save what might have been ruined. “I know what this looks like, and I can explain everything, but-”.

Donnie did not get to finish that sentence, before you had wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling the shocked mutant close to you, so that you could plant your lips firmly on his. Donnie froze, not daring to fully believe what was happening. You were kissing him, even after seeing who he truly was. But after a moment he allowed himself to relax against you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer against his plastron, ignoring the sound of his brothers’ jaws hitting the pavement, staring in shock at the scene in front of them.

Pulling from the kiss, you smiled at Donnie, joy appearing big and bright on your face, and your eyes shining just as much. This confused Donnie. This was not how he had expected you to react.

“Aren’t you mad at me?”, Donnie asked, his eyes wide and an unbreakable smile on his face as he fought for his breath.

You chuckled and shook your head. “There’s no way I could be mad at you”, you said. “All though this wasn’t was I expected”. You gestured to his body. “But I could not never be mad at it”.

For a moment Donnie just stared at you, your words echoing through his head. He didn’t know what to say, nor what to do. But with the growing happiness bubbling up inside of him, he could only do one thing, and that was to pull you in for another kiss. And you kissed back with a smile. You now knew that Donnie did not only have an attractive voice, but an interesting yet handsome face to go with it. And suddenly the thought of having an official relationship, didn’t seem so far off anymore.

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somanyratsinthewalls · 5 months

Text

Be Careful What You Wish For

Pairing: Kid x AFAB!reader

Summary: When you drink, you always beg your boyfriend to be rougher with you. Every single time, he says no. He’s afraid he’ll hurt you. After a dry spell, your much larger man obliges your request.

TW: ANGST? Kink communication issue, potential pressure to be into something? Alcohol consumption, Spanking, Rough sex, nipple clamps, improper use of devil fruit powers, sex toy usage, drunk fooling around, Bondage, handcuffs, missionary, unprotected sex, choking, creampie babyyyy, they are in love, Kid loves his lil lady.

Smut Under the Cut (minors DNI you will be blocked)

——

*3 weeks earlier*

It was 2 AM and you and Kid had stumbled into his captain’s quarters after a night of heavy drinking with the rest of the crew. He had been pawing at your breasts through your shirt and kissing your neck as he ushered you down the hallway. Finally reaching the door, Kid pushed it open and swiftly pressed your smaller figure against it once it was closed and you two were on the other side. While attacking your lips with his, Kid moves to remove his large, imposing metal arm so it can be out of the way for your love-making session. You pull your head back, breaking the kiss.

“Keep it on…” You pant out at him while cupping his face.

“Dollface you know I can’t… It’ll hurt you… I promise you don’t want that…” He insists as he casts aside his apparatus. He leans down to kiss your lips again. Drunk with need (and alcohol), you roll your eyes and drop the issue for the night. Kid picks you up in one arm and lays your body down on the bed. He pushes your torso up, silently asking you to help him take your clothes off. You assist him slip off your top and shorts, laying back down completely bare for him.

“I will never get tired of this.” Kid says as he slides his hand up your side, marveling at your naked body. “So pretty… and just for me…” His mouth waters at the sight and dives down to kiss you again. Kid slips his tongue into your mouth and you relish in the feeling of his massive body on top of yours, raking your nails gently up his back and into his scalp. You feel his hard dick rubbing into your center as you kiss.

You whine and rut your hips into his to gain more stimulation on your aching cunt. Kid pulls back and chuckles down at you.

“So needy as always, baby. Haha don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you, my little-”

“Choke me.” You interject.

Kid’s eyes blow wide as he stands on his knees on the bed over you. You were in one of your moods again.

“Absolutely not.” Kid leans down to try to kiss your chest to distract you.

“Slap me, then. At least spank me!” You desperately press your core into his, trying to tempt him into humoring your most favorite fantasy. You had a pain kink. You knew that. Kid knew that, but he had never given in. You were so small compared to him. As a pirate, you certainly weren’t weak, but Kid was so frightened that as soon as he acquiesced your request, he might hurt you more than you wanted. He would’t be able to live with that.

“God damnit, Y/n! Stop it!” Kid gripped your hip with his strong, callused hand.

“Oh my GOD, Kid! I’m not a paper doll! I know you’re strong, and THAT’S one of the things that turns me on about you! I LIKE you BECAUSE you’re big and strong! You aren’t going to kill me, I can take it!” You huff and sit up from your laying position on the bed. “I’m a fucking Kid Pirate! I want to get tossed around a little, roughed up a bit! And I KNOW you want the same thing! I’ve heard you with those girls before we got together! I want you to just… let go for once!” You shout at him.

“You aren’t like those girls, Y/n!” Kid spits back at you immediately. “Those whores meant nothing to me. I didn’t care what happened to them. But you…” He grabs your hand in his. “You’re my everything. And I just don’t want to go too far and…”

“Save it. Honestly, Kid? I get it, but save it. If you don’t think I’m strong enough to handle you... then the message is received.” You slip your legs out from under him and off the side of the bed.

“So you haven’t been satisfied in bed with me? Because I’ve seen you squirt enough times to challenge that idea.” Kid is starting to get annoyed with your attitude.

“Kid I love the sex we have, I’ve just been trying to communicate to you that I might have other needs and wants. You’re telling me you’ve never wanted to manhandle me into ungodly positions until I’m crying? You DON’T want me bent over your lap with my ass bright red for you? You’re saying the thought of me walking around the next day covered in marks showing the crew who I belong to doesn’t turn you on?”

Kid blinks at you.

“I’m so done having this conversation tonight. Goodnight, Kid.” You slip your shorts and shirt back on and head towards the door.

“Doll, wait-“

You leave your captain’s room and head back to your own, the one where you rarely slept nowadays. Frustrated, you flopped into bed and tried to fall asleep.

— —

*now*

“Happy birthday, to you! Happy birthday, to you! Happy birthday dear y/n, happy birthday to you!”

Your pirate crew of oddballs had planned a surprise little get together on the Victoria Punk as a celebration for your birthday. You smiled as you leaned forward, pulled your hair out of the way, and blew out the pink candles on your beautiful birthday cake. You had no idea Killer could bake, but this was a pleasant surprise.

“Thank you guys, it means a lot… but we have more booze, right?” The crew hooted and hollered loudly as Wire poured more shots. Kid was next to you. You had kept up appearances since your argument in his bedroom, and for the most part you were… fine? You got along, didn’t argue, but you hadn’t shared a bed or a kiss in weeks. He was always near you to dispel any rumors throughout the ship that you two had been having problems. You both took two shots that Wire had poured for you. You winced a bit and then laughed.

“Are you trying to make this my last birthday?!” You choke out across the table. Your crew mates laughed. You spent the next few hours drinking and enjoying your party. As the festivities died down, your captain pulled you aside against the wooden wall of the ship.

“I have a special present for you tonight, doll face… want it?” He growled into your ear as he grabbed your hip with his flesh hand. The alcohol in your system was making you forget your argument weeks ago easily.

“Mhmmm…. What is it? Can I have a hint?” You licked your lips and looked up at Kid, who had a devilish smirk on his face.

“Let’s just say…” Kid moves his hand to wrap around your face. “It’s something you’ve always wanted.” His smile grows impossibly wider while staring directly down at you. He squishes your cheeks. “Now, open.”

You part your lips for him. Kid gently, slowly drops a ball of spit from his mouth into yours and uses his hand to close your lips. You clench your thighs and swallow. You moan at his vulgar actions. He was so fucking hot.

“Good girl.” He coos at you. Your eyes roll back into your head. “Let’s go.”

Kid swiftly picks you up and throws your body over his shoulder as he heads out of the dining room towards his captain’s quarters. The few remaining crew members gave you wolf whistles and cheers as you jokingly gave them the Queen’s Wave from your position draped over Kid’s back.

You giggled as Kid swiftly carried you to his chambers on the ship. Before he reaches his door, he gives you a sharp, short, smack on the ass with his hand.

“Oh!” You yelp out, surprised and aroused by the hit.

“I hope you know what you’re in for, you little slut. You’re gonna be a real good girl for me tonight, right, sweetness?” Kid growls at you as he bursts into his room, kicking the door closed behind you both. He tosses your body onto the bed face up as he stands at the edge of the bed looking down at you.

In your horny, drunken state, you giggle up at him.

“Hmmm…. How good are we talkin’ captain? Because I kinda-“ Your voice falters when you look up at the ceiling and see a chain with handcuffs hanging from it, right above the bed in the center. “Woah…”

Kid chuckled.

“It’s gonna be a long night, doll, I hope you’re ready. Strip.”

You begin to reach for the zipper on the side of your party dress to take it off. Impatient, Kid grabs the fabric of the dress right between your breasts with his large metal hand and rips it off your body, leaving the tatters on the bed surrounding your naked form.

“I liked that one.” You pouted up at him.

“I’ll buy you 10 more. Up. Now.” Kid grabs your wrists and pulls you up onto your knees on the bed. He lifts your hands above your head and snaps them into the handcuffs. Somehow, the cuffs were at a perfect height that your arms were suspended above your head and you were left kneeling with spread legs in the middle of the bed. You struggled against your cuffs, wanting to feel his toned body against yours so badly, but you couldn’t move.

“Resisting? I thought you wanted this, hmm? Begging for so long for me to use and abuse your little body… Can’t handle it now that you’ve got it?” Kid slips his jacket off onto the floor, leaving him in just his trousers. He takes his cold, metal hand and wraps it around your whole body, squeezing the steel digits gently into your torso.

“I-I can take it! I promise! I want it so bad!” You whine out and wiggle your hips in his direction. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend had finally agreed to indulge in your kinks. Your nipples were erect and your pussy was becoming slicker by the moment, just looking into his bright orange eyes that were dark with lust.

“Oh you’ll take it, haha! You wanted it, you’ll get it.” Releasing your body with a sinister laugh, Kid raised his flesh hand. Something zoomed across the bedroom and arrived in his grasp. It was some sort of metal chain contraption. “Now hold still, sweetness… oh wait! You don’t have a choice!” Kid laughed again as he approached your naked, helpless form with the metal chain. It was a set of nipple clamps. You gasped. He started fastening the clamps onto your sensitive, erect nipples.

“Oh Kid… fuck…” Your head fell back at the feeling of the cool metal squeezing your hardened buds. Once your captain was satisfied with his work he stood up fully and looked down at you again.

“Fuck, doll… can’t believe how turned on you are by this. Kind of pathetic really…” Kid leaned in and wrapped his human hand around your neck. He pressed gently at the sides, constricting your breath. You let out a high pitched whine. Kid smirked before turning around and walked to his armchair across from the bed and sitting down. He leaned back in the chair and put up his boots.

“Kid… baby! Want you to touch me! Please?” You struggle against your cuffs above your head and try to spread your knees further, so he could get a glimpse of your soaking sex.

“HAH! You think it’ll be that easy? After bothering me for MONTHS to wreck your needy little body? When ALL I wanted to DO was pleasure you? Treat you? Give you all my love? You think I’ll just fuck you that easily? Hahaha, yeah right.” Kid was laughing at you… and it made your cunt gush.

Kid raised his right hand and pulled his fingers into his palm. With this motion, using his devil fruit powers, the metal chain connecting your nipple clamps pulled into the air and towards him. Your nipples were being tugged painfully in your lover’s direction from your bound position on the bed.

“OH FUCK!” You moan out loudly, this sensation new to you. Kid hears your pleasure and drops his telekinetic hold on the chain. He chuckles at your sigh of frustration. He then pulls and tugs at the chain using his powers, teasing you for several minutes. “Want more, my slutty little doll? Want me to touch between your legs? I can see how wet you’re getting…” Kid smiled as he tugged at your nipples more forcefully with the chain.

“YES! More! Please! I need it!” You desperately choke out as he stimulates your sensitive tits.

“Hmm… I don’t think you’ve earned the privilege of my cock yet… so this might have to do…” Suddenly a silver, shiny egg shaped object flew across the room from a drawer to rest against your left thigh. The object began vibrating lowly and you shrieked out in surprise.

“Kid!!” You lurched forward as your body got used to the vibrations against your skin.

“Uh oh… did little girl bite off more than she could chew?” Kid laughs as he slides the vibrator up towards your dripping sex.

“No…” You whisper out as your hair hung in front of your face.

Kid finally pushes the metal vibrator up to your cunt and presses it harshly against your throbbing clit.

"OH MY GOD!” You cry out and your knees tremble against the bed as your torso bends forward. You toss your head back and you shudder your hips towards the toy.

As he moved the vibrator back and forth in a slow, smooth rocking motion on your clit, Kid also resumed his movements pulling at the chain on your nipple clamps. You moaned and squealed loudly under your boyfriend’s hands-free ministrations. You opened your eyes to see Kid in his chair unbuckling his pants and freeing his massive, hard cock. You watch him pump it slowly and release a guttural, primal groan.

“Kid… please… I want it…”

“Not until you cum for me like this, doll face.” Kid’s demeanor doesn’t falter with your begging. You were going to have to work for his dick, he couldn’t let you have it so easily. You were going to have to prove to him how much you loved being treated like a toy, a plaything for him.

You felt the tension in your lower body build under the vibrations on your clit and squeezing of your nipples.

“I’m so close.. I’m right there… Fuck, Kid, I’m gonna-!” Your body seizes forward under the immense pressure of your orgasm. Your juices spill out around the toy pressed against your messy cunt and you cry out in pleasure. After the waves of pleasure cease, you hang limply against your cuffs and pant out heavy breaths.

“That’s a good girl… I guess you really are into fucked up shit, huh? How about you take this cock now, baby?” Kid gets up from his chair and sheds the rest of his clothing as he walks towards you. He reaches you, so close to your face, but out of reach for you to kiss him or feel him.

“Yeah! I can take it!” You breath out, struggling against your restraints.

“I have to admit… you are cute like this… want to feel me, doll?”

“Yes! Yes! I wanna touch you! I need to touch you! I love you so much, Kid! Please, let me!” You beg with tears in your eyes, you wanted to feel him inside of you so badly. He hadn’t even touched you with his hand all night.

“As you wish, my love…” His heart panged, finally reaching that sensitive part inside of him. He used his devil fruit power to remove your cuffs and you flopped down bonelessly on the bed. You whined and whimpered for him.

“Shh… I’ll take you now, it’s ok…” He grabbed your wrists and kissed them soothingly. He laid you back and spread your legs for him as he slotted himself between them on the bed. He lined his weeping, angry cock up with your wet hole. Before he pushed into you, he pressed the crook of his metal hand into your neck and the mattress. As his cold metal squeezed your neck, Kid fully shoved his cock inside of you.

“Kid… Yes…” You squeaked out as he choked you out.

“Holy shit you’ve never been this wet or tight before. You really are a little pain slut! Maybe I shouldn’t have had you wait this long if I knew how good you’d feel on my cock like this…” Kid stutters out as he pounds harder and harder into your pussy.

You felt yourself ready to cum so quickly, it was almost embarrassing… but you felt so safe and comfortable with your captain… The wet glide of his cock in your hungry walls was enough to send you teetering towards the edge again.

“CAPTAIN! Wanna cum again, please!” Tears spilled from your eyes down your cheeks to meet his metal hand around your throat.

“Well since it is your special day, who am I to deny you?” Kid picks up the speed of this thrusts and brings his flesh hand up in the air. The vibrator zooms back to your clit and picks up speed. The combination of sensations was so much, your head was spinning and you couldn’t no longer form a coherent sentence.

“Kid, I- AH!” You squirt and writhe all over your boyfriends thick cock as he relentlessly pounds into you from above. Your orgasm wracked through your body and left you boneless.

“I’m almost there, sweetness, you can take it…” He huffs and puffs as he chases the feeling of your needy cunt milking him of his release.

Oversensitive from your orgasm, you cry loudly and reach out with your hands to grip at his shoulders.

“Take all of it, doll, I know you can.” Kid grunts and releases his seed deep inside of you. He softly whimpers as he grinds his pelvis into yours, riding out the last spasms of his climax. He eventually flops onto you and buries his face in your ample chest. A few minutes of silence and heavy breathing go by.

“Ok maybe you were right about that.” Kid finally mumbles into your breasts.

“I know.” You chuckle and wrap both of your bodies in his red silk sheets. “Told you I could take it.”

“And take it you did, baby. I love you.” Your man nuzzles into your tits and makes himself comfortable.

“I love you too, Kid.” And you both drift happily off to sleep.

#one piece #one piece anime #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #kid x reader #eustass captain kidd #eustass x reader

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whoyacallinyellow · 1 month

Text

To The Fallen

Charles Smith x F! reader

Spoilers: major RDR2 events Content: 18+ mdni, m/f smut, drunk sex, angst, tension, possessive, canon typical events / violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes Type: second pov (wc - 3693) / pc: pinterest

Summary: After the gang’s downfall, you join Charles on his endeavors. While roughing it in the woods, you convince him to share a drink with you…

“C’mon Charles, live a little.”

You encouraged the man, sat upon a log as he tended to the small campfire you shared. He sighed at your relentless begging, gazing at you over the orange flames. Truly torn, he hated to turn you down, but your safety was more important than your idea of a good time.

“What if something happens?— besides, someone needs to take care of you.”

The man reasoned with your buzzed mind, gesturing towards the half empty glass you cradled on your knee.

Your eyes followed him as he joined you, carefully studying his every step before he sat next to you, tobacco leeching off his clothes and filling the air.

“It’ll be fine.” You reassured softly, watching him glance longingly into the flames once again. His eyes carried a certain sorrow that did not leave since Beaver Hollow. Apathy had stuck to Charles like a ball and chain, burying his friends was a pastime he did not favor, with Arthur being the final nail in the coffin.

After the fallout of the gang, the two of you spent your time roughing it in sticks, you reckoned somewhere between Canada and northern United States. You felt as if it were the smartest move to be as far away as possible, while Charles was a man who did not like running. He was fully aware the severity of his actions came with a big price— but he was willing to compromise for you.

Charles always seemed to know what to do, and where to go. He found refuge in your company and trust, the close bond you shared only flourished after being by your lonesome. The man wouldn’t want it any other way, sometimes pondering where he would be, or what he would be doing without you. The doubts he kept quiet and buried deep often resurfaced the moments he was reminded how sweet on you he was.

“You could use one.” You continued, placing a small hand on his knee with the attempt to break his trance. You so desperately wished to lend him a penny for a thought, but your attempts usually went nowhere.

The man huffed in defeat, encapsulating his hand over yours tenderly.

“Maybe just one.”

Charles reluctantly agreed, his words barely finished before you filled his unused glass with a much needed relaxation aid.

You scooted closer as a Canadian breeze whipped past, which made his grasp slip politely around you. The man’s arm alone somehow carried more warmth than any blanket could give you. Or perhaps it was the security he offered with each touch.

“Uh— to the fallen.”

You propose awkwardly, raising your glass lazily to the man who met you with a stupid smirk.

With your tipsy state being more than amusing to the outlaw, your words would be teased and mocked in the morning, in addition to gentle kisses as compensation— if you were lucky.

“To good health, my girl.”

He compromised huskily, his words presenting a much more giddy side which had been long erased with time. Charles lounged in the moment, the drink would allow a disconnect from his thoughts, unwilling to think about the gang under the grip of a bottle.

You took his offer with a small clink, the contents of his glass sloshing and spilling into yours.

Charles always knew you had his best interest in mind, the same he held for you. And with everything that happened in the past year, maybe he’s been too uptight and miserable. He reasoned that self reflection would come after a night of fun, maybe he did need this.

The night seemed to slip from his grasp after that point. His incoherent banter blew through the trees and vacant wilderness, undoubtedly scaring any animal or man for miles. Charles would often lean against you for temporary support, his hand sneaking through your inner thigh, and lingering for a moment to prop himself upright before continuing his casual slurs. The bottle loosened his tongue more than you expected, allowing him to exaggerate a memory or two.

You have not seen the man wear such a toothy grin since Sean was rescued, a celebration where he took the liberty of more than one drink. As you walked past the rowdy group by the fire, he would match Sean and Karen by pulling you onto his lap. A drunken stunt he would never dare pull sober in front of the others, denying every bit of the scandal once teased the day after. His leg would bounce effortlessly to the music beneath you, wobbling you tightly to his chest. All you could think about was the stubble of his chin digging into your shoulder, the way his fingertips treaded dangerously close to your waist—as if he was taunting you. His hard bulge you rested on would go unacknowledged by the man as he bounced his leg, but not you.

It was a sick game he played and perhaps enjoyed a little too much, testing your willpower for him every moment available.

Charles’ one ended up being your three, his glass being long retired in favor of the bottle, swaying between his fingers as he nursed it sporadically.

As the man went over the deep end you just spectated, you figured the least you could do was take care of him for one night, as he does for you every other. One night off was the very least he deserved.

“S’enough now, reckon you oughta sleep.”

Your words interrupted Charles, an unmistakable hum rattling through his chest. It hurts you how much the gang lived within the man, even while blackout drunk, Javier’s rhythms that played years ago flowed through him.

You arose stiffly to your feet, which the man unsteadily followed, his arms swaying and outstretched to recoup some balance.

The fire had died down along with his energy, Charles’ half-lidded eyes wandered, barely illuminating off the flame.

Your unexpected touch at the man’s nether region triggered his reflex with a stagger as you unclasped his taut gun belt. Relieving him of today's responsibilities.

“Oh hush,”

You murmured, your concentration ignoring his sudden silence.

Glancing up at the man who towered over you was now stiff as a board, arms hung by his sides as he stared back directly into your soul.

His lips parted ever so slightly, but nothing came out besides a sigh, the bottle dulling his expression, but emphasizing fervency.

All Charles could do was stare, his mind clouding over his better judgment— the thought of you seemed to do that often.

He remembered a particularly sunny day at Clemons Point, a job gone not to plan. You tended to the man’s wounds as he recovered in a cot. Your eyes heavy and looming over each part of his injured body, a sense of worship you held for his temple he simply did not. White bandages decorated his torso and bicep, a familiarity with his body and scars that only you held. The sacredness and safety your touch gave him made his pride not allow anyone else to see him in such a way, not that he would ever tell you.

You would not speak while focusing on him, not even to ask for an explanation of the wounds. But your vibrant presence would keep him company in the midst of your silence.

The feeling would eventually leave him as you wandered off, he would watch your figure lingering in the distance, pondering while gazing off the beautiful lands camp offered you. Your apprehensive mannerisms worried the man, which he mistook as forlornness. Charles would justify the scenarios, a double edged sword he deemed to be second nature— you knew what type of man he was.

You would bide your time against a nearby tree in eyeshot of the cot, ensuring his peace. But would return before too long, your eyes slightly uplifted in spirit. Once again presenting Charles with the same feeling he had before you left the tent.

Perched up on the barrel level with the cot, the back of your delicate hand would linger on his forehead before caressing down his scuffed cheek, the same touches his mother would give him as a boy.

Your silence was louder than any words you could have said, you loved him and he always knew.

—

“M’sorry.”

The man uttered after a needy kiss. Insincerity snuck upon his lips, unsure of what exactly he was apologizing for— was it to you? Or was it guilt of the broken man he’s become?— when exactly did he dismiss the morals he subscribed to?

Now laying in the tent you shared, your lust for him kept him far from his drunken mind, his pants you had undone tempted his desires over redemption. Charles somehow held no recollection of your hands working down there.

Once again your silence was louder than words, fingertips tracing gingerly over his bulge. Subtly begging him to give into his desires, give into you. Charles always had different plans for your first time together, but the past years haven’t been kind, making the time never right— he never once considered taking you while a drunken idiot.

But your body would soon be consumed by that very same desire, he would only leave your lips momentarily while clothes were kicked off.

The unsuitable lighting made the man rely on his hands, touches that were a test of how well he knew your body, by now considering it an extension of himself.

“Charles,”

His name deliciously exhaled from your lips at the slightest feel of him. Your voice saying his name in such a manner forever burnt a mark into his mind. You molded into every touch of his, which only encouraged his high. His calloused fingertips ran from your hip bones to your breasts, touching the off guard parts of you to everyone but him.

“Yeah?”

Charles eventually answered, his gruff voice lowly exiting his chest with an unforeseen force.

Stroking himself, the man positioned at your entrance, his tip preparing you extensively. Charles’ neck craned back as pleasure began to soar through him, a sharp sigh being exerted at the slightest feel of himself in you.

“Think you can take me?”

Less of a question, the man wondered out loud through a slur. The syllables lazily slid off his tongue as he teased his head back and forth through your heat. His jaw had gone slack from a combination of ecstasy and concentration, your wetness and anticipation only grew with each of his strokes.

He hoped to get more noise from you. So desperately wanting you to be loud for him, no camp, no one to worry about— just you. You were his one and only focus, as it should have been from the start.

Your silence was temporary, captivated by your lover teasing you between your legs.

“Go on then,”

Your voice came out as a pitiful whine, a beg of yours he would not take lightly.

The large man hummed through his amusement and pleasure, his hands covering every area of skin he could on you. Scooting you closer to his preference came with ease, his pull on your hips united your thighs to his. With how light and sweet Charles’ casual touches were, you sometimes forgot how strong the man really was.

“Charles!”

Your frustrated moan was music to his ears, it broke through the man’s clouded brain like the sound of a gunshot. A distracted hand was still placed on the base of his cock, threading it through your lips in awe.

“Okay— ok, sweet girl, don’t know if I’ll fit s’all.”

He contemplated out loud, his voice remained low and primal, glossed over drunken eyes lustfully staring into yours, a hint of playfulness being held within the brown wells.

It was the same look they held the day of your hunting trip for Mr. Pearson. You insisted on joining Charles, less to assist and more to loiter and encourage the man. A simple and innocent request he would never refuse. You held onto his torso as he rode Taima, to his dismay your hands would wander further, and further down, until resting prettily on either side of his groin. You would see the man headbob towards the saddle, infatuated with both your boldness and touch— needless to say, you both returned to camp empty handed that day.

—

The wind that rippled through the tent canvas sent chills through your bones, your naked frame being consumed by goosebumps which the man took humor in. His rough fingertips wasted no time fiddling with your nipples before covering you with his body. Finally exchanging his body heat with yours that would not be needed for long.

Now fixated on your upper body, it did not take him long to cover you in his hungry mouth, his shaft still grinding against your lips as he eagerly thrusted, barely touching your entrance with each movement.

Taking matters into your own hands, your patience grew thin, reaching down and directing the man where you needed him.

The abrupt contact caused spots to flood in vision, Charles’ pleasure and whiskey filling his palette in a way he did not know possible. A part of him wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop after taking you, afraid he would accidentally hurt you in his drunken stupor. His lack of control over his dire state only showed the desperateness Charles usually hid from you.

Your fingers laced around the man’s bare chest, little nothings you would mumble as you took his length. Charles still doesn’t know what got into him, all the pent up desire for you finally being spent with a slow and powerful thrust that swooped to your core. Despite his eagerness and your moans, he somehow mustered up enough composure to allow you to get used to his size.

“So tight for me,”

Was all the man grunted through his drunken lust, he thought you took his size so well for him, almost as if you were made for him as a lover.

Your fingernails that dragged along his back earned you some groans and abrupt movements that were particularly passionate.

Hearing him in such a worked up manner only made you tighter around him. It was enough to nearly make the man lightheaded as pleasure roamed throughout the tent.

Words weren’t needed for Charles to understand that your desperation was mutual to his. Your walls continued to grow wet and clench around him with every adjustment and word of his, making a mess of the bedrolls beneath you both.

“You should’ve took me that night— at Shady Belle.”

Your unsteady words momentarily stopped the man in his tracks. His body frozen atop of yours as he mentally mapped out just how long you’ve been wanting him this way.

Charles remembered the look you gave him as he peeled off the layers of his bank heist clothing, gun belt falling to his ankles with a clank. He was the only man to return from Saint Denis that night. You followed him around camp like a lost dog, eyes glued to him, silently begging for an ounce of him. You always knew if any man were to return from a botched heist, it would be Charles Smith.

Your need for him then would go unfulfilled, his large hands lingered lovingly on your waist everytime he rushed past you to assist what was left of the gang, as if he silently acknowledged your desperation. Charles always carried that sense of urgency and composure you did not— he was the last man with a lick of leadership, afterall.

You wore a similar look now, needy and willing.

A lazy chuckle filled the tent before he planted a sloppy kiss on your lips, feeling your breath quiver against him was a reminder to continue.

“Should’ve said, my girl.”

Charles rebutted simply, allowing your moans to once again fill his ears as he moved swiftly but rhythmically.

After all this time Charles knew what kind of lover he wanted to be for you, in his mind he earned you and your desire to be with him in such a way. Which meant you deserved to experience your importance and much more.

Sensual and with purpose—at least for the first time. Each of his actions would show how much you meant to him. Charles thought about it more than he would like to admit, the days you would patch him up only encouraged the back door thoughts of showering your body in his devotion, your lingering touch merely drove those thoughts further.

But the whiskey consumed his prior plans of reverence, only to reveal how badly he needed this— how badly he needed you.

Every last bit of his self-control was thrown out the tent along with your clothes, discarded in the dirt by the fire.

His hands gripping whatever skin of yours he could, small marks of his fingertips peppered on you, further demonstrating the long overdue tension he held prior to taking you.

Lips and tongue that traveled on your breasts occasionally came with teeth, his excitement winning and the principals he usually held washed away with the prior drinks you shared.

These marks the man would notice in the morning, guilt and embarrassment surging through him while planting soft kisses upon the possessive marks— Did he hurt you? Was he too rough?— Was he foolish?— he doesn’t remember, his head hurts. Your words of praise would feel just as genuine as it did the night prior, reassuring the man you enjoyed him just fine.

Your touch ghosted down his chest and to his bucking hips, tracing the muscles that flexed with each thrust. Both of your thighs now sopping, Charles let out a low moan, his stomach knotting and quivering under your spell. He guided your hands back up, not wanting to reach his peak quite yet, and your excessive touch would overstimulate him to that point.

“Easy now.”

Charles whispered, his voice gravelly and hoarse, a vague warning which slipped from his lips as smooth as the booze went down. The man knew you were close under his control, and how malleable you were only drove him closer to the edge.

His braided hair had gracefully come undone from the intimacy, loose strands both dangling over your bare skin and sticking to his shoulders.

Your body quivered beneath him, sensing your climax was near with excessive moans and breaths you gave him. Hearing you moan his name fully unleashed would replay in his mind for days to come, your pretty lips trembling was a sight for sore eyes. Hoisting himself back to his knees, his bottom lip slid between his teeth, rubbing your clit while he admired how you gripped his cock. So trusting, so excited, so wet, and it was all for him?

His thrusts became more attentive, each one pressing and lingering deep within you, his back arching to meet your pelvis, ensuring no part of his length went neglected.

If Charles didn’t know any better, he would have lingered in you a moment longer before finishing, basking in the pleasure your high presented him with. The same high he has been subconsciously chasing since Clemons Point. But instead his shaft planted onto your stomach as he climaxed, animalistic groans exiting the man as he marked you.

Your lover’s chest heaved, lingering momentarily as he finished. Both soaked and relieved, he weakly lowered for yet another soft kiss. His necklace and hair tickling your collarbone as he recovered from his high.

The mind fog prevented any sort of disruption of his focus on you. Charles studied your torso as you recovered yourself, the small faded scar he stitched up for you back in Colter now glistened under his love for you, it seemed so long ago to the man. He never once thought in this lifetime the girl he saved from a seemingly fatal stomach wound would be the same stomach covered in his seed.

“‘Look real sweet like that.”

He hummed, pride and satisfaction littering his tone. His voice rumbled in his chest, presenting signs of sobering up after his chase.

“Oh?” Your lips formed into an amused grin, staring at your tired lover laying beside you, his toned figure barely visible in the tent besides the glossy formations of sweat beading down his chest. His dark eyes still hooked onto the mess he created on you.

“Real sweet.”

The man affirmed gently, figuring he would put you out of your misery and clean you off.

How whipped was Charles? He could not tell. Every kiss you would give him later that night threw him over the moon. Your fingertips soothingly outlined the scar on his jaw as he held you tightly, your frame curled within his, thighs that pressed against him unknowingly gave him a certain friction that begged him for another round.

But he decided you needed the rest, as he felt there would be more where tonight came from. He would make it up to you then.

The embers cracked in front of your tent, with the trees swaying the distance, the white noise was enough to lull you to a slumber. But the man forced himself awake just moments longer to experience you. Relishing in a feeling he never wanted to leave him. Charles wished the night lasted a little longer, as he did with most good things he was fortunate enough to have come his way. He always wondered what he did to deserve those things, especially with all the sins under his belt.

He felt as if he were sinking, or spinning, maybe it was spinning, his fingertips tapped rhythmically down your spine in his subconscious state, gaining your attention.

“Sleep with me.”

You cooed against his chest, words he could barely make out from your state of delirium.

The man kissed your forehead in response, his mind that tried running off into the night was anchored back to you. Like most things were.

Your wish was Charles' command, and he knew it would be the beginning of many more.

#charles smith #charles smith x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr x reader #rdr smut #rdr2 headcanons #idk if i like it #maybe ooc????#no one will get the title reference and im SCREAMING its so stupid lmao I cant stand myself

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