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buttercupblu · 2 months

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God is Fair|The Lore

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Two-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: ever since you were young, you knew you were meant for each other. he came into your life like a storm and grew closer no matter how distant you seemed. he swelled and captured your heart every time he was near. so why did you keep fighting him? w.c: 12.7k (holy f*ck) out of idk yet for part-two the rest (god bless) tags: fem!reader, mostly angsty….pretty much 90% angst for part 1, repressed feelings, jealousy, lingering lips and fingers, a little bit of self-depreciation at the end but pick that crown up love, reader gets a little violent at the end 😳|if i missed anything, pls comment or DM ☺️ angel’s note: this story started as one thing and ended up as another—so goes the way of life. PSA: most of the good, filthy, mack-nasty shyt is in part 2/3, but you’ve gotta wade through the fire first to get it. It’s always worth it|thanks for reading 🖤 earworm 🐛: Chihiro|Billie Eilish

Over time, you became perfectly molded to him.

As did his lips to your tender bud that sank under his sinful tongue.

Slender fingers grip and drown under his raven locks, barely saving you from the shallow breaths you must take to stay alive.

You’re just above water, and he steals your air, spelling poetry with his tongue over your folding petals.

Broken coos spill from your puffy lips—his favorite melody to ever grace his ears.

Whether it was today, tomorrow, yesterday, or forever—you fall—in and in and even deeper into his grasp. Under the waves and trapped in his ocean—he gently pulls you under—your lungs yearning for air, but you never want out.

And the way he dives in, drowning to taste every drop, every sweet, delectable sip of your nectar like he could live the rest of his life without oxygen—tells you that he doesn’t either.

You learned to love each other’s oceans and came to mix seas. Both treaded rough waters but learned to float with calm bodies.

Now you lie hand in hand, limbs weaved like vines through each other’s arms, as you cuddle. Completely spent from another night in each other’s depths. Grateful. Grateful for his love—his patience.

And wondering how on Earth you thought it’d be possible to exist without someone you swore you despised.

Suguru has always been the best—the best at being good, the best at being kind, the best at being quiet—the best at being better than you.

When you were eight years old, he made his quiet introduction into your quaint little neighborhood, arriving in a flashy Mercedes-Benz followed by two moving trucks that pulled right into the driveway directly across the street from your humble home. Heels painted with red bottoms adorning stocking-covered legs were the first things you saw as you watched from your bedroom window.

The sound of movers drew your attention. No one ever came to your city, let alone your cul-de-sac. You felt a shift. A change was coming.

A tall woman, her long, sleek ponytail blowing in the wind, stepped out of the driver’s seat wearing large couture shades that took up most of her face. The overhanging forecast made everything bleak and gray, but the sunglasses stayed. A man exited the passenger seat and came to the woman’s side. He gingerly took her hand and looked around with a small smile, gently rubbing her arm. She slightly grimaced and handed him what looked like one of those small, overpriced designer bags.

They looked so…out of place.

They had to smell like money.

What the heck were they doing here?

In a city like yours, one of those places where everyone knows everyone and everybody's business, you instantly knew that this couple would be the talk of the town. At least with the adults.

You blew air into your bangs. You weren’t expecting new neighbors, but they could have at least come with a kid—someone who might actually want you around.

“Hey, Bug,” your dad called from the garden.

He always left the back door open so he could hear you in case you needed him. He must have heard the rumbling of their heavy trucks now being unloaded with elegant furniture. Would all of that even fit in there? Their house was bigger than yours but not by much. “Sounds like we’ve got new neighbors. Might go by later and say hi if you want to come.”

“No thanks.”

You turned back to the window, resting your head on your arms. Meeting Mr. and Mrs. Richy Rich didn't sound very appealing to you and might only make you feel worse on this already gloomy Spring day.

For once, you wanted to be pleasantly surprised and not just surprised with something you wouldn’t expect, like hitting the jackpot or whatever.

And then you saw him.

Inky black hair drawn into a short ponytail, emerging from the back seat of the fancy car and clutching a book thicker than his torso. His starched white-collar shirt and beige shorts reminded you of school. He kept his chin tucked and looked like the wind just might knock him over if the book wasn’t keeping him upright.

He and the woman were near twins. Definitely mother and son. She smoothed her hands down her skirt and put on a genuine smile for him. The man draped his arm around the boy’s shoulders as he took in the neighborhood. Slow and sheepish. You thought his eyes caught yours when he looked behind him and you ducked under the window sill.

Sh—

“You can’t stay cooped up in here all the time, Bug,” your dad called again. It sounded like he might be wrapping up. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You inched back up to the window and peered over the edge. The boy looked like he was just as lost as to why he was there.

Anxious. Reserved. Kind of boring.

Not your speed.

You blew a raspberry and turned away. So much for that. You wouldn’t be missing much.

In your neighborhood, all the kids walked freely to each other’s houses to see if anyone was home. This was before everyone had cell phones to save time and figure it out for them.

You watched it happen with the other kids all the time. They’d visit each other and either stay inside (super rare) or gather the rest of the neighborhood to play in the cul-de-sac or park.

But you were never quite given a direct invitation.

The few friends you were close with moved away about a year ago, and the thought of making new ones who would eventually do the same kept you emotionally at arm's length. To make it worse, you swore the group you were left with undoubtedly hated you.

Why?

Because you had a history of sucking.

Everyone else in the neighborhood was naturally good at something. Anything. Everything.

But you?

You had to try.

Mess up. And try again. At almost anything you could name.

Basketball? Trash.

Tag? You were slow.

Football? Pssssh. As if—like you’d let yourself get hurt? You sat out every time.

So, the kids stopped inviting you or always picked you last. Both were grimy slaps in the face. Because you always knew you could be better. Delulu was the solulu if they’d only give you a chance. Or two. Or a few. But damn, you were trying.

At least you weren’t the only one being left out.

It’d been weeks since you saw the new kid on the block—not like you thought about him much after you dismissed him. But slowly, as the sounds of Spring beckoned him outside, he reminded you that the new “rich” neighbors did indeed have a kid.

It started with the curtains in his living room window gently ruffling before he’d peek out, scanning the scene for signs of life. Then eventually upgraded to gracing the neighborhood with his presence to sit outside. For hours, he watched from his front porch as the neighborhood kids dashed past your houses to play in the cul-de-sac.

It kind of made you jealous—the amount of space and freedom on their porch that his parents clearly weren’t taking advantage of. Only two plastic chairs and a small table occupied the space, and they weren’t nearly as lovely as the things you saw go into the home on move-in day. If it were up to you, you’d string up one of those hammocks big enough for two like you’d seen on TV and just float in the breeze under the overhang. It had been a frequent daydream of yours long before they moved in.

Instead, a gawking boy with too much time on his hands made it his home. Watching. Fiddling with his fingers and leaning on the rail. Watching. Always seeming too afraid to approach.

He had what you thought was the best house in the neighborhood (and probably the most money), and still, he looked so lonely.

With the background he seemed to come from, you thought he’d be more ballsy.

One day, you were, and you walked right up there, took the hand of the wide-eyed kid, and led him to the rest of the kids down at the park. His dad watched the whole thing go down from the kitchen window as he did the dishes, silently laughing as the boy stumbled behind you without saying a word.

This was your chance. You were so tired of the other kids being better than you. With him being the new kid, you thought he’d at least be somewhat on your level or maybe even a bit worse. Anything was better than being the odd one out.

You and the boy just a few inches shorter than you crashed the party right before the next game started. You beamed at the group like you had caught a prized fish.

“Guys, this is um…um…” Then you realize you hadn’t asked his name. And he was still holding your hand.

You dropped it and nudged him. “Suguru,” he said softly, seeming to avoid eye contact.

Suguru hadn’t seen that many kids in a group like this outside of school. He didn’t mean to look so anxious, but he wasn’t used to being in a neighborhood full of kids his age. He instantly felt like an outsider seeing how comfortable everyone was with each other, apart from you by his side. While soft smiles offered him a glimmer of acceptance, the stares made him self-conscious. He wondered if he could ever fit in.

You repeated his name in case no one heard him. Suguru. It naturally rolled off your tongue. Soft and sweet. Like the boy. He fidgeted with his fingers, but hearing his name felt reassuring. You looked at him and grinned. It was time to see what he’s got.

Tee-ball was the game. One you hated the most. Running was not your sport, and you certainly didn’t have an arm, so it never hurt your feelings too much when you weren’t picked for teams. But you made sure Suguru was. You wanted to see him in action.

Last summer, you guys found an old traffic cone to use as the tee and placed sticks around the field for bases.

You didn’t expect much from Suguru when it was time to bat because…look at him. He was so small and timid. The bat borrowed from someone’s dad was almost the same size as him, and you swore you saw his feet lift a few times during his practice swings. Too much of that and he’d be airborne. You prepared to give him a “job well done” pat on the back once he hit the ball a few feet.

Suguru squared up at the tee—on his way to join you at the bottom of the barrel.

And wouldn’t you know it?

He knocked the ball clear out of the park and didn’t even skim the cone.

Your mouth fell open before you remembered you were the designated retriever since you weren’t playing the game. You grumbled the whole walk and search for it.

And then he did it again. And again. And again.

And surprise, surprise, he excelled at every game he played after. Everyone wanted Suguru on their team.

You gaped at the feat—so much power, strength, and coordination in such an unassuming body.

And instantly hated him.

Not because he was the best or braggy about it.

It was the complete opposite.

He barely seemed to acknowledge it—not in an arrogant, dismissive way, but more like he was just happy to be involved and doing something. He was sheepish with compliments and even seemed nervous to receive them. He’d rub his head and give a little close-eyed smile before returning to the game.

And peer over to you on the sidelines for approval.

Every swing, every hit, and every game after, his purple eyes would find yours whenever he thought he’d done something worthwhile.

You tried to hide the jealous scowl, returning his shy smile with a nod and told him to keep his head in the game.

But he noticed.

He saw it. He knew you were unhappy, and he wanted nothing more than to help.

So after that, you kind of mirrored each other.

The kids always saw you as a try-hard—constantly on repeat, trying to make yourself valid and stand out. You’d grab failure by the throat and wring its neck, determined to make it forget your name. Not because you were attention-seeking; you only wanted to be counted in.

And so the student became the teacher. Suguru began to slip you little nods as if saying he saw you—just like you saw him all those times on his front porch. It’d annoy you at first, what you thought could’ve been pity, but it felt nice to finally be acknowledged by someone.

And so gradually, you looked to him as a spectator, earning silent yeses and nos until you finally worked up the courage to do what you were afraid of most. Ask him to be a friend.

To help you perfect your skills, of course.

But the friendship blossomed like the Spring, and you and Suguru actually grew really close—instantly drawn to each other. Pop-ups to his house were the norm as you had the most advantage out of everyone in the neighborhood by living right across from him. And you both were always brought up by one another’s parents.

Turns out Suguru’s dad was a lot like yours and they got on really well. They’re both funny, kind. But your dad’s a little bit different. He’s got rebellion in his bones, as he often talked about when he told you stories about his youth and take-no-shit hippie days.

“I’m serious, Bug. So, there we were, strapped to the tree. Shackled, really.”

He mimicked the story with his arms in between laughs.

“So, so we’re all chained up, right? And this bulldozer is coming right at our heads, ya? I look over to Stanley,” your even crazier God-father who showered you with gifts every time he visited, “I say, ‘Stanley, toughen up. You look like you’re about to piss yourself.’ And he goes, ‘I’m not scared. I forgot to go before we locked ourselves in.’”

Your dad roared with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes like he hadn’t told that story a million times. Like he was going around trying to collect little activists. But Suguru almost fell over, leaning into his every word. He was such a shy laugher, always creasing his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he did. It made your dad feel like the funniest guy alive when Suguru entertained his jokes.

“You were so brave,” and Suguru called your dad by his nickname just like your dad told him to. “I want to be that brave when I’m older.”

Your dad winked at you—you stuck out your tongue. Suguru was a good kid, he thought and reminded him a bit of himself.

Those days, your dad was mostly the same. He didn’t need much and chose to live a quaint and peaceful life. He’d talk your ear off about activism, travel, and stories about your mom who passed when you were born. You never got to “meet” her, but you always felt like you knew exactly who she was. And she was totally different from Suguru’s mom, who you learned was a hard-working corporate baddie. Red bottom heels. Makes sense.

By the end of that first summer, your families were practically joined at the hip. You and Suguru even more so. Outside of house calls and playing games with the rest of the neighborhood, the two of you also made frequent trips to the makeshift pier. Almost everything in your neighborhood and the surrounding area was walkable, including a small, wobbly, probably dangerous dock that sat over the small lake in town. You’d play a little alphabet game you made up on the walk down and constantly challenge him. Only for him to literally beat you at your own game nine times out of ten.

“Angels shop at—” You skipped down the dirt path.

“Blessed boutiques,” Suguru finished, “Beautiful coats—”

“Can clothe their wings. Dashing dolls—”

“Eat every sweet. Forks will find—”

“Giant…giant,” you thought and thought and thought, “Giant—”

“Geese!”’ Suguru tagged you and ran down the dock, deeming you the loser of that round. You strolled down to meet him near the water reflecting the sunset. A pout took up your face. He patted the deck, motioning for you to sit. “You’re gonna miss the fireflies.”

Watching them pop up one by one and glow on the water as the sun went down became a ritual. And one of your favorite memories of summer.

The following school year, you were even more inseparable. And when the end of fifth grade rolled around the year after, you knew it was fate when you found out you’d be attending the same middle school.

You were overjoyed. So was Suguru, but for different reasons. To you, now it was on.

Academics was an area where you had a fair shot at flourishing. You were studious, attentive, and almost the perfect student. And while you didn’t have bad grades, you always felt like you could be better. And you know why. Because everything came naturally to Suguru, of course.

Thank goodness for extracurriculars, though. The two of you didn’t need to do everything together, and you both benefited from the time and separation to do your own thing and discover your own interests. The Newspaper club caught your eye and was more interesting than you thought it would be—the first hobby to make you fall in love with words.

Suguru took an interest in robotics and, surprisingly, Yearbook. He was pretty crafty with a camera and made sure to snap the best photos of you during your events.

But the two of you rarely spoke of school or after-school activities. You never wanted him to know if you were struggling or needed help with anything and tried not to rely on him so much those days, so everything with you was always good.

It had to be.

He was still the competition, after all.

And you had to appear just as flawless.

Instead, you enjoyed late-night phone calls that went way past both of your bedtimes as you grew into middle schoolers. Pretending to be asleep and slipping the phone under your pillow without moving a muscle when your parents checked in was a sport, but it couldn’t be helped. The books you were reading, shows you were watching, and thoughts on what high school would be like were too good not to talk about into the late-night hours—even when your eyelids got too tired to stay open. Falling asleep with your cellphones in hand or occupying a space on your pillows was the norm.

“What’d ya think about the movie?”

“I mean, the book is always better, right? But like,” you sighed happily into the phone, “they made their lives look so…amazing.”

The two of you watched The Great Gatsby 1979 version on DVD at Suguru’s house right after school that day before you had to scurry off to help your dad in the garden. Suguru finished the book a few days ago, and after catching him with it during lunch and poking him enough to get him to spill some of the details, you were sold.

A glamorous romance about a life of luxury and passion?

Say less.

And because you couldn’t resist, you told him you’d finish it in less time than he did.

Suguru thought the movie was pretty true to the book, but man, what a sad story. You, however, were in love with the lifestyle.

“What about Daisy?” he asked.

You pondered Daisy’s decision for half a second before deciding she was a one-off. All her life she had been spoiled, something you were a total stranger to but didn’t make a point to say—only dismissed her frivolous ways and called her a coward. “Just the money and parties would be enough for me,” you said in a daydream. “It’d be too happy to be that shallow.”

Suguru laughed and said that wasn’t the point of the book. “Money can't always buy happiness. She could’ve had love. It was right there.” He sounded so sophisticated when he said it, much too wise and sappy for a 13-year-old.

You sucked your teeth. “That’s easy for you to say.” And you reminded him that he has a nicer house, clothes, car. “And when are y’all getting the Benz back?”

Lately, you and Suguru had been getting picked up by his dad in a major downgrade of a car. It’d been at least two months, and you were missing the feel of luxury against your skin.

The phone went quiet for a second, and Suguru scratched his head. “Uh, we actually don’t have it anymore.”

Your eyes widened as if he'd just told you someone died. Borderline devastation set in like it was your family losing one of its greatest displays of wealth. But Suguru didn’t sound the least bit sad when he told you that his dad referred to the “new car” as a “cash car” because they needed something quick.

And then it clicked, and you realized why you’d been noticing that furniture and things had also been disappearing in his house when you came over. And why he had to switch to the free lunch program you were also on at school. And why his dad mentioned looking for a second job the other day.

Suguru’s family had been hit by the recession.

And that’s how he became your neighbor.

Most of everything Suguru grew up with in his previous family home was placed in storage when they first moved into your neighborhood. His mom thought their stay would be temporary; she had been demoted at work but didn’t think it was a big deal, and things would quickly be back to normal—maybe even come with a promotion if she worked hard enough.

But it wasn’t her skills that was the problem. The economy was in shambles, and her company was running out of money. After two years of hoping for a miracle, she and over 40% of her company were laid off.

They kept all of this from Suguru until only a few weeks ago. He was much too young to understand what it all meant when it first happened—he was just a kid. But now, he was older, smarter, way less naïve. They couldn’t keep lying to him about why the car was away at the shop or why the family heirloom dining table went missing, among other things.

When they told him that he’d have to slow down on his growing book collection and only get one gift for his birthday that year, that’s when he started asking questions—not that either of those things meant much to him. He was more than happy to frequent the school library, and you noticed that he’d been spending a lot more time there than usual during breaks.

What bothered Suguru the most was the looks his parents gave him when they told him everything. Like they were delivering the worst news in the world. Like they were so worried that they’d be disappointing him. Like they should be ashamed.

It hurt him more to know that they felt like they had failed him.

“My dad just looks so tired all of the time now.”

Mr. Geto, who had been a stay-at-home work-from-home employee since before Suguru was born, had to get a part-time job working overnight to help bridge the widening gap between their old and new lifestyle.

Now, Suguru doesn’t get to see him as much except to make breakfast and kiss Suguru goodbye with a sluggish smile on his face before school.

He really missed his dad. And it made you feel like shit for momentarily being a Daisy.

For the rest of the night, you just listened to Suguru tell stories about back home—what his parents were like, the things they used to do, the trips they would take, and the time they spent together. Little memories from a place you’ve never been but could clearly see as he talked through the night.

Never once did Suguru mention missing the things he used to have or wanted now. The people in his life were what he cared about most.

“My dad got a new antenna for the TV to surprise my mom with so she can still watch her favorite channels from back home,” he laughed. “It’s so big. I hadn’t seen one before, so it was kinda funny to look at, but I’m glad it’ll make her happy.”

You solemnly smiled and propped up on your arm. “Do you ever miss home? Like being back there?”

He mentioned that he thought about it sometimes: the plush green grass in his front and backyard that he’d lay in for hours, the much sunnier skies compared to the frequently gray and cloudy ones, and humid air here in your rainy city, the few friends and family members he had to leave behind.

But he liked it here better and surprised the hell out of you by saying so.

Anywhere was better than being here.

Even though his family was going through a hard time, they still managed to get the nicest house in the neighborhood. You could only imagine what his childhood home looked like compared to the one bedroom and living room your dad made into his own space.

You asked why. What could possibly make this place any better than where he came from?

You could hear him shrug through the phone as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just something about this place.”

You still think about that conversation sometimes.

The end of middle school came in a blaze, and so did puberty.

Suddenly, you became aware that it was time to start caring about what you looked like.

Some nights, you would call it early with Suguru in favor of spending hours on YouTube watching videos and learning how to wear makeup. You put more thought into how you dressed and tried your best to style the little clothes you had into mostly decent outfits.

Every morning, you’d beam when you entered the kitchen to grab breakfast and say goodbye to your dad. He’d try his best not to cry, watching his little Bug grow up before his eyes.

Suguru did some growing, too.

The summer of 7th grade, he got a little taller, and when your final year started, you guys were finally neck and neck. He was beginning to be able to see the top of your head when he lifted his chin, and he would make little jokes about it in his prepubescent boy voice that was starting to crack. You’d push the too-big glasses that he got at the start of middle school up the bridge of his nose and tell him not to get too cocky. This was the tallest he would get, you’d tease. He may have been good at everything, but he’d always be a pip-squeak.

When you weren’t going back and forth with Suguru, you were hanging out with the new gal pals you made at school. Your little trio started spending more time together, window shopping at the mall, attending football games after school, and talking each other’s ears off about anything in between throughout your last year. You couldn’t tell Suguru everything, of course—there are some things that guys will simply never be able to relate to or understand.

And one day, while the three of you sat at lunch together while Suguru was off with his robotics team, one of your gals leaned over the cafeteria table to poke you with a devious smile and ask the age-old question: who do you like in school?

Your brain had the audacity to picture Suguru first.

Your friends squealed watching your face blush beet red, but you turned away and never answered the question—only said that you were more focused on school and extracurriculars to help you in college more than anything else.

But where the hell did that come from?

Suguru was, debatably, your best friend, but that was it.

Not that you needed to convince anyone else of that. Just…yourself?

Before that day, you never really thought of Suguru in that light. He was this quiet, nerdy, prodigy of a boy who was great at everything and gave you another reason to want to be just as good. You secretly looked up to him, if you wanted to call it that, but you certainly didn’t like him.

He was just the boy next door.

The boy next door who was challenging you once again: to push the little hints of affection that had been blossoming aside and dismiss them.

Bury them down, keep your eyes on the prize, and finally be rewarded for your efforts.

To keep up with him, not fall in love with him.

On a rare sunny Saturday, a month and a half before school let out for the summer, the two of you sat on his beloved front porch with the future on your minds.

Suguru picked at the grass growing between the wooden boards. “Thinking about trying something new next year?”

You popped another sugary blackberry from your backyard into your mouth while stretched out on Suguru’s favorite quilt. He couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you looked, drinking up the warm sunbeams on your skin.

“I don’t know,” your arms folded behind your head as you stared at the ceiling, “I love Newspaper, but…I don’t know. I think I wanna branch out.”

You just weren’t sure how yet. You had done some research on the high school you’d both be attending next year and ran down the list looking for something to jump out at you. Something you could really put yourself into. You still loved writing and expressing yourself, but there was nothing else besides repeating Newspaper or trying Yearbook (Sugu’s territory). The rest of your options weren’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“How about volleyball?”

“Nah.”

“Art club?”

“Mmm-mm.”

He leaned against the wooden railing. “Hmmm, choir?”

You laughed and didn’t even bother to respond to what was clearly a joke.

He sighed and pensively licked the sugar from his fingers before asking if maybe you’d want to do something together.

You looked at him and squinted. “What?” he shrugged.

“You know what.” And he shook his head all innocent-like.

Always innocent that Suguru. Effortlessly wrapping everyone around his finger. Your dad, his teachers. Even your trio mentioned him from time to time about how helpful he was. With all the times he went out of his way to make sure you were okay, even you were starting to let your guard down. Watching him now as his ponytail blew softly in the wind, looking so naïve as to what you meant but still wanting to understand, made you blush sick.

Not having much of a reason to actually be so guarded, you made one up. “You tryna go toe to toe with me, Geto?.”

Your brow cocked, and you used his last name because you knew it’d get to him. He was fully aware that you only say it when you’re serious, and it’s mostly blurted when you guys go at it on Mario Kart.

“Just because I said we should do something together?”

“Yeah, so you can one-up me.”

If there was a hobby or favorite pastime that you really enjoyed and might actually be better than good at, you knew it was best to keep it out of Suguru’s reach. Academic and recreational competitions needed to remain separate if you wanted to keep your sanity.

Suguru took a breath. If there was one thing he didn’t bother competing with you at, it was arguing. He knew you wouldn't back down if he just sat here and tried to convince you; you’d poke a hole in every counter until he simply gave up.

So, instead, he pandered to your inflated ego, chewing his lip before telling the truth. “C’mon, Twin. I promise I won’t. Do it for me.”

His soft purple gaze landed on you, and you got a funny feeling in your stomach that you hadn’t felt before.

He was serious.

He really wanted to be at your side trying something new—exploring together—helping each other find yourselves.

The shy teen who was as quiet as a mouse and yet a beast of a kid wanted to be right there with you. And he wasn’t afraid to say it.

You cleared your throat and averted his gaze. “Fine,” you agreed, but on one condition, “It stays a hobby, no competing.” And it sounded like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But valedictorian? That’s mine.” And you tossed another blackberry into the air and caught it perfectly in your mouth, making Suguru raise his eyebrows.

“That’s a bet,” he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sugar from the corner of your lips. You swat away his hand and punch his shoulder, but damn him if the gesture didn’t make you feel all weird inside. He faked an “Ow” and rubbed his arm before joining you on the quilt to soak in the sun. You closed your eyes and pretended to float in the breeze whistling through the railing. Even without the hammock, it kind of felt like you were.

“Sooo, what do you wanna do this summer?” And the possibilities felt endless.

Who knew this core memory of each other’s youth, the moment you finally let his fingers inch across the blanket and softly brush yours without pulling back, would be one of your last?

Two weeks before break started, after all of your plans for the summer and the following school year had been planned out, it happened.

To this day, you question the timing of your worst nightmare—just when you thought you were living the dream—coming true.

The Geto’s were moving on up.

For years, Suguru watched his mom grind in corporate America. It wasn’t new to him; she had one of the hardest work ethics he’d ever seen, but it was on a different level after his family moved to your city.

Something in her had changed—the thought of instability.

She knew Suguru was used to not seeing her due to long hours at work, but when it started to affect her husband, when it began to shift the family’s dynamic, she knew she had to figure something out, and fast.

She could sacrifice her time for the family. She couldn’t sacrifice Suguru’s time with his dad.

All these years, Suguru’s family pulled themselves up by their bootstraps while Suguru was lost in the bliss of friendship. Mrs. Geto’s hard work paid off, and she got a promotion—on the opposite end of the country.

The day was bright and sunny when he left, the exact opposite of how you felt watching the beat-up car that had grown on you drive out of the neighborhood.

You looked on from your window because you didn’t want him to see you crying, watching, or caring.

You had been right from the first time you saw him.

And were back to square one.

Alone.

You guys tried to stay in touch, you really did, but being in totally different time zones made keeping up with each other a little harder. New apps for your phones, like Snapchat and Instagram, helped a little, but they didn't compare to the late-night phone calls you missed so much.

At first, Suguru would Snap you about how he was getting on in his new city, neighborhood, and places his family would explore over the summer.

The thought of him being someone’s new boy-next-door made your stomach twist.

When school rolled around, he’d send Snaps and joke about his preppy new uniform that came with a vibrant red tie and over-starched navy pants. His mom got him into a fancy private school because, of course she would, but they were really strict with phones, so you weren't able to talk to him until he got home. By the time he did, the sun had already gone down for you, and you’d be too tired from your own after-school activities to keep your eyes open.

You missed Suguru—even your dad missed him and his family terribly.

You missed him so much that you began to resent him—his new life, fancy school, and new “friends”. Jealousy reared its ugly head, forcing you to put your walls up again.

Another friend, gone, moved on to bigger and better things. Leaving you behind once again.

You had finally found a friend, a real friend, who never made you feel bad—someone you could tell almost all of your secrets to.

Who got whisked away.

Who you’d give anything to see again and go back to the way things were.

Though it’d only been five years, you felt like you’d known him your entire life.

But what you thought was fate, turned out to be folly.

It wasn’t fair.

Sometimes I fall But still, I rise To the skies high above In the clouds my ego Will go where no one knows

Why I am here

And why I try

To defy what I believe What it means to succeed To be won

To be one

To be “the one”

A smoking gun.

“Thank you.”

The cafe filled with snapping fingers as you walked off the stage, heart pounding and a smile plastered on your ducking head.

Look at you now. Performing in cafes, libraries, open-mics, wherever you could be that called for an audience. Still a little shy, but letting it motivate you and pour out on the floor to be soaked up by the listeners. It was an adrenaline rush, finally finding something you knew belonged to you and being damned good at it.

No one was better than you at telling the world how you felt while simultaneously mesmerizing an audience with your soliloquy and speech. Words still had a hold on you; you just figured it was better to say them out loud than keep them written down.

“Good job, Bug.” Your dad handed you a hot cup of tea fresh from the counter with your nickname scribbled in big cursive letters across the cup.

“Dad, please stop calling me that.”

He frowned. “But you’re my little bug.” He threw an arm around you, almost making you spill the hot liquid.

You groaned and protested. “I’m not a kid anymore.” And took a sip too soon, burning the tip of your tongue. You held it in and swallowed, looking around to see if anyone else saw the scorned look on your face.

You thought of 15 as one of your prime years and kept yourself busy to prove it. Just a sophomore in high school, Baby had a new hobby: dominating slam poetry. You had taken over the scene in your city with expansion heavy on your mind.

Though it was hard for your dad to hear, you were right; you weren’t a kid anymore. But you knew he was just proud of you. More than you could ever know. It made him happy to see you had something no one could take from you.

With a tsk, you leaned into his hug. You should be thanking him more. When the idea of doing slam poetry first crossed your mind, you were a hot mess (surprise, surprise) at being confident (BIG surprise)—your stage presence was lacking, to be specific.

On the page, your poems were like water in a desert, but opening your mouth and performing it with your whole chest was…different.

Fixating on your lines and rhythm made you want to pull your hair out. It was hard making sure your words sounded like you and would be understood. You needed to be understood.

You’d practice your performances in front of your dad until you were blue in the face. A show was put on for anyone who would listen. And secretly, you missed Suguru’s presence because he’d be perfect for it.

But you didn’t need him. You were on your way to competing in your first official local competition. All your practice around the city and long hours at home agonizing over your talent for slam poetry built up to that moment—the time to show the world what you had to offer.

Nothing felt better than holding the gold 1st place medallion between your fingers afterward. Regionals came next, and nothing could have validated your talent more than the medals you took home on top of the prize money your dad stashed away for college.

It was time to travel, and Nationals was your next target.

You couldn’t describe the feeling of finally being outside your city. The thought of being beyond the walls of home once felt like a hopeless dream. New cities, new friends, new organizations, and new styles of poetry were within your reach. The exhilarating travel that worried your dad put a thrill in your heart. You wanted to see everything—be heard everywhere. Life was full of opportunity and everything it had to offer.

“So you’re gonna do the group piece and then an individual one, maybe?”

You leaned against the cool bus window as you and your teammates winded down the road to your next hotel. Over the summer, you traveled with your state’s top slam poetry organization to compete in regional cities around the coast. All of this was practice for the Nationals coming up that August before school started. The day was coming faster than you could imagine.

“I don’t know about a solo,” you wondered.

You looked out the window and chewed your bottom lip. Your team lead had been pushing you to do a stand-alone piece for the Nationals for weeks, but you felt far from ready. You were strong in a group, but on your own, looking out into a crowd of people while demanding their attention on an empty stage, the thought made you queasy.

This wasn’t your local library or a small regional contest. Nationals is where you tell the country who you are and why you matter.

“Hey,” a hand rested on your shoulder, calling you back. “You’ve got this. You deserve this.”

And you did deserve it. You’d worked too hard and advanced so far in such a short amount of time. You didn’t think you’d get here so fast, but here you were, on a double-decker bus full of others who were just as talented as you, in a place where you belonged. In a place where you didn’t have to try so hard or look for that slight nod of approval to let you know you were seen.

August was in a hurry to put you on the stage because, before you knew it, it was time to head to California for the Nationals. What better place to begin to live your dreams than in the place where they all come true? Sunny skies, sandy beaches, and the aura of art and performance lingered in the air. It was the complete opposite of where you came from. It felt like home. You could see how Suguru could get easily lost in all.

You always wanted to visit the West Coast and see how he was living.

It’d be so funny to randomly Snap him after all this time and tell him you were so close, but you decided against it.

Cali was HUGE; there’s no way the competition would just happen to be in his city for you to casually bump into him.

Plus, imagine that awkward reunion after a few years of radio silence.

You two could be completely different people now.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see you.

Maybe you didn’t want to see him.

So many great things happened since his family packed up and left. In fact, without Suguru around, you found yourself excelling more naturally at anything and everything than ever before. Comparisons were a thing of the past, and you knew you had something no one else could take away from you.

Except maybe the competitor going on before you at the Nationals.

The audience was loud and clearly approving of his killer performance as they ate him up with whistles and snapping fingers.

Who needed a mic when you had a voice like that?

Easily projecting across the entire venue with every rhythmic pop, beat, and enunciation of his words.

You might have met your match or worse.

For the first time in your poetic career, you thought you just might lose your winning streak.

Anxiety convinced you to head back to the holding area. You just needed to run through the lines of your solo only a few more times.

You’ve got this.

He was nothing.

This was nothing.

You were taking home first place—absolutely positive that success was literally on the tip of your tongue. Until you saw him.

The boy with the raven hair.

Unmistakable and stopping you dead in your tracks as you saw him in the flesh for the first time in 2 years, standing long and tall in the venue.

Not in the audience.

Not as a stagehand.

But in another team’s holding room.

As a competitor.

Your heart plummeted into your ass.

What in the fuck was he doing here???

You swiftly ducked behind the wall leading to your team’s holding area, hand flying to your chest to still the thunderous beating.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. DEEP B R E A T H S.

Suddenly, your mouth was desert dry.

The entire summer, you prepared yourself to keep from slipping up—how you would suppress the urge to call him, think about him, or wonder where he would be when you were here.

You covered all of the bases.

But here he was in a place you least expected.

In a place you now knew you’d dread seeing him the most.

The boy you had become a ghost to was haunting you, but somehow, you knew this would happen.

You only got a quick glance at him before you vanished, but it was enough of a glimpse to notice the chances.

And God, were there changes.

As teenagers do, you both had grown out of your prepubescent bodies and into your young adult ones. And while you thought you looked relatively the same with a few upgrades here and there, Suguru had gone through a full-blown glow-up that set yours on fire.

“Almost ready?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your teammate followed your line of sight and smirked. “Know him?”

You shrugged a bit too nonchalantly and said you thought he looked familiar but didn’t. “Shame,” she rested her shoulder on the wall with a dreamy gaze. “He looks like a dream.”

You turned away before you threw up and realized that you were about to be called up next. The frazzled look on your team lead’s face let you know she’d been looking for you, and you took a synced deep breath when she spotted you. Her hands fell on your shoulders before you went up the stairs to the stage. “You’ve got this.”

I’ve got this. . . . You don’t got this.

Your legs felt like Jell-O walking up the short set of stairs to the black platform in the middle of the stage. You hadn’t been on one this big, in a venue so large, with an audience so vast and eyes in the hundreds. The row of judges sat below you, yet looked so intimidating. Heat engulfed you from the lights above—a literal deer playing the lion in the headlights.

Sight zeroed in on the judges, you avoided the audience. Hoping that he wasn't still there because you knew seeing him WOULD freak you out.

In the silence Between the shattered and oppressed dreams I found, I tore The roar Of my own voice Reclaiming the night

Your lines flowed out of you more naturally than water, eyes closed, unfocused, or hazy as you transformed your surroundings into the scene of your story—the journey from struggle to empowerment—the story of why you deserved to be here. In that moment, there was no one else—not even the judges—just you, the stage, and the song that belonged to you, even if it mattered to no one else.

But it mattered to him.

And you didn’t see him until near the end of your set.

The familiarity of your voice called him to confirm it for himself. To make sure it was you. He couldn’t believe it. You looked so…powerful. Fully fledged in your adulthood, kicking ass and taking names. Fierce and poetic. The same attitude as the girl he grew up with but in its full realization.

Your voice cracked a little when you spotted him, completely awe-struck by you, but you played it off like it was part of your set. Damn the boy who had the same gawking eyes that used to watch the neighborhood kids—quiet and longing. You hoped it wasn’t obvious, but Suguru noticed. He knew. He still had some kind of effect on you. He could tell by how quickly you looked away. You still felt a way about him. He wasn’t just a nobody to you. But given the circumstances, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it by the time he took the stage.

The mic fit snuggly between his fingers. It was rare that someone fully approached it without starting their piece first. You wondered where he was going with this, why he looked a bit tense, why he kept his gaze low—if it could be because of you.

You held your breath and crossed your fingers. Once again, it was time to see him in action under the sweltering stage lights. And in seconds, you saw your gold medal fleeting.

You expected nothing less.

His voice was lined with melody—a sweet, ethereal flow and a melodious string of vocabulary that wrapped you in an envelope and swaddled you like a baby. He sounded so mature. He sounded so much better…than you.

The nerdy boy with too-big glasses and cracking voice had been replaced by a young man who towarded over the audience with a long side-bang and gauges in his ears. The red tie around his neck did look absolutely ridiculous like he said, but the rest of his navy blue uniform was tailored to perfection and fit like a glove.

He looked and sounded like where he came from. Money. But he was more than that. You found yourself hanging onto his every word as you watched from out of sight. He couldn’t see that he made your heart thump, but it was begging to fall out of your chest by the second.

This wasn’t about slam poetry anymore.

Suguru had entered your arena.

Shy, reserved, and knocking the ball out of the park.

Out of over 200 solo acts, you came in 6th. Suguru came in 5th.

And you couldn’t even feel good about it. Because you knew what this meant.

Regionals took over the remainder of your sophomore academic year, but when summer rolled back around, it was time to look Suguru in the face again at almost every out-of-state competition. The West Coast was once a dream—now you dreaded touring the area because you knew he would be there.

Performing.

Waiting to chew you up and spit you out.

Over the final two years of high school, you both spent most of your free time hopping around the nation and directly squaring off with each other.

Growing more apart as you did.

Silent hatred brewed and led the way every time you saw him—unmistakably written on your face.

He chalked it up to the fact that the two of you had changed over the years, and maybe you’d simply outgrown him. But he never thought someone he used to call his best friend could give him a look so cold. With no other choice but to follow your lead, he kept his distance and pretended you weren’t there.

But the way he racked up medal after medal, winning over judges and audiences alike, was loud and clear.

With him, you could only hope for second best. Though out-of-state competitions were just practice, losing to him in any capacity was a constant reminder that what was yours, wasn’t anymore.

If it ever was.

This time, anxiety burned through you instead of helping you.

During junior year, one of the most pivotal moments of your poetic careers, you met face-to-face again at the Nationals. Both of your organizations fought their way to the semifinals, but as you held your breath waiting for the judges to call his team’s name, silence swept both of you when you realized that neither of you made it to the finals.

Again.

By that summer, you were tired, good and tired of inching closer and closer to third place, then second, but never first in out-of-state competitions where Suguru was in the mix.

He was sucking the life out of you, but you couldn’t show it, especially when on stage where you knew he’d have his eyes glued to you.

Then, in August of your senior year, it finally happened; you returned to the Nationals, your final opportunity to win and go international. This time, it was close to your territory, in Georgia.

All bets were off.

The winner was a toss-up.

And what a slap in the face to finally win….and tie with Suguru.

You sulked on the inside the whole ride home while your teammates cheered and celebrated around you. To them, you’d just made history with your organization being the first in your state to go to the continental competition and have a shot at the World Poetry Slam Championship.

To you, your freedom of expression kept escaping you.

You felt yourself starting to mold into something outside of yourself.

Some nights, you lied in bed, unable to sleep hearing Suguru’s rhythmic beats rack through your brain.

Analyzing them.

Judging them.

Mimicking them.

Wanting to be like the best.

Your foundation was shaking.

At least you didn’t have to worry about the continental competition. Winning wasn’t the point; only earning one of the top 10 high scores to be automatically qualified for the WPSC.

It was a dream come true.

But how come it tasted so sour when you stood on that stage, your teammates going absolutely insane in the crowd at the news of you advancing to the international championship, but once again with a score just shy of Suguru’s?

The two of you were declared the best in your country…and you were sulking.

It shouldn’t matter!

You're one of the top 40 poets in the WORLD, babe!

And, for Godsake, a free plane ticket and trip to leave the country was waiting for you with your name on it! Belgian waffles and fountains of chocolate are more than enough reasons to get over yourself and this one-sided beef.

But your dad still got an earful about it.

Weekly chats with him almost always centered around poetry and Suguru ever since you first saw him sophomore year.

The closer the world championship came, the sadder you sounded.

“What if I-”

Your dad stopped you. “Don’t even finish that sentence. What have I always said?”

You hugged the phone to your ear, rolling your suitcase back and forth between your legs in the airport terminal. “Bug,” your dad said after a moment’s silence.

You groaned. “We don’t say ‘what-ifs’. We say ‘what is’.”

“And what’s going to happen.”

You looked over to your team lead, soundly napping in the corner. It was the butt crack of dawn, and both of you had gotten to the airport way too early for your liking to make sure you didn’t miss your flight. Your first international flight. You actually had a passport, like???

So much had gone into getting you here.

Energy. Time. Effort. Trust. Encouragement.

People were rooting for you. They wanted to see you win. You wanted to see you win.

“I’m gonna do my best.”

“Then you’re already a winner, Bug.”

God, your dad was gushy. And God, you loved him for it.

You didn’t feel so bad by the time you watched the sunrise in full bloom through your airplane window.

Pink, orange, and yellow washed over your face, making you feel so small. It wasn’t your first time in the sky, but definitely the most nervous you’d been.

Local papers, blogs, and newsletters featured your name—people knew you now; they had expectations.

A reputation had been made, and now you were in the fight of your life to keep it.

You sighed into your palm with your dad’s words in mind.

David was determined to take Goliath down.

Belgium.was.cold.

Like you hadn’t packed nearly thick enough coats type of cold.

You felt like an idiot.

You were a lyrical genius but couldn’t even put ‘Belgium in December’ and ‘it might be freezing’ together. But the lobby of your quaint little hotel with hot chocolate on tap was warm and inviting.

Your team lead handed you a cup, and you found yourself missing your teammates. They would have loved this and cheering you on at the top of their lungs.

The feeling was lonely—nerve-wracking.

You were in the beautiful country of Germany for a competition, not leisure, so you couldn’t even relish in the fact that you were overseas.

At least the food was good. Nervous eating made you binge until you felt sick the night before the competition, but a quick stroll in the brisk morning air made you feel better.

The bus ride to the venue felt like you were about to hop into a boxing ring. And the gloves were off.

Crossing the threshold into a space full of chosen people was like marveling at the diamonds of top-society. And you were one of them. Your team lead walked by and closed your gaping mouth with a smile. “Chin up, dear.” And disappeared into the crowd.

You'd never met a foreigner before and were thrust into a venue full of different skin tones, accents, languages, and ages. It would’ve been even more overwhelming had it not been for the smell of coffee wafting through the air, reminding you of your last safe space for poetry before you went pro. With half an hour left until the competition, you thought exploring a little wouldn’t be a bad idea.

The venue was dark and moody, perfect for setting the atmosphere and circulating the rising tension in your body. The main stage basked against the background of darkness under a single warm light that cast a circular glow.

Your final destination.

His burial sight.

Suguru was nowhere to be found, but by the looks of the thick crowd shuffling in to fill their seats, it was easy to get lost. You met back with your team lead to run your rhythms a few more times.

“Please don’t say it.” And she laughs, giving you a small nod and shoulder squeeze.

You still hear it in your head. You’ve got this.

But man, were these poets giving you a run for your money.

It was exhilarating and terrifying—a glaring reminder of why you were here among the best.

Translations were available on the screens behind the performers as you ping-ponged between their words and their expressions. Both demanded your attention and the crowd’s.

But so did you and Suguru when you both breezed through the semifinals.

For a second, you thought he hadn’t made it to the venue at all when you looked for him during your performance. But he let you and everyone else know he was in the building when he graced that stage. A hush fell over the space, and even you felt your face go soft while watching him.

He more than deserved that advance, but you weren’t done just yet.

After a brief intermission—the DJ wasn’t playing any games—you turned the corner to line up for the final round when you collided at 100mph with Suguru.

“Fu— oh.” You held your arm as you looked at him—really taking him in.

When he was on stage, you noticed he wasn’t in his usual uniform, but up close, the alternative was definitely a choice. The loose black tee ruffled as he smoothed his bang.

“Sorry.”

He rubbed his shoulder and kept his eyes low. His hands stuffed into his black cargos as he looked away, not wanting to upset you. Or see the look of resentment on your face.

You could tell he knew he made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t know how different he wished things could have been.

Hurt was written all over the face of your childhood best friend, and you never knew Suguru to be upset about anything.

You cleared your throat. “Good luck.”

His head drew back like he’d seen a ghost.

His lips parted.

Then he kind of smiled, leaning against the wall—looking at you for a moment.

You were so grown up and had accomplished so much.

Suguru was fully aware that you hated his guts and was so proud of you—even if you didn’t need him anymore.

He reached out to shake your hand. “Good luck, Twin.”

Your heart thumped—no one had called you that in 4 years—sweet and low from honeyed lips.

Suguru’s hand lingered in your air for a second before you gingerly took it.

Soft and warm.

Just like you remembered but stronger—firmer.

The gloves were off for him, too.

Things were done a bit differently for the final rounds. Instead of holding deliberations for the end of the rounds after everyone had gone, everyone got their votes front and center from five random audience members.

Paddles would fly in the air, displaying the scores to be tallied up and held until the end.

Thank God you could do quick math. Numbers were racking up—bone-chilling talent was on full display.

You were amazed, laughing, shocked. Every set was different from the last.

The crowd fell into a hush when one guy came on stage and laid straight down. Bareback to ground. Then fired off rhythmic jokes that made you laugh at some and ponder the seriousness of others.

Dark humor often has truth in it.

Most sets were in a completely different language yet spoken so beautifully that you dug your nails into your palms to keep from crying. Emotion was universal. And you were feeling a lot of them.

Suguru walking onto the stage snapped you out of it as you watched from the other side of it.

Though you’d just seen him a few minutes ago, this was a completely different light. Something had shifted.

Nice to meet you My name is Suguru Oh really? So is mine! It’s nice to meet you too.

Tell me what you’re like, what do you like to do? Lately, I’m not sure Was hoping for a breakthrough

In a world where masks are sticky and glue I’m lost in a maze with no clear view Doubt will cling like morning dew Caught in the storm of shifting hues

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought Suguru was having a mental breakdown.

Your jaw tightened, clothes fidgeting between your fingers.

It was the most unexpected thing you could’ve imagined. And this was just the beginning of the journey through his paradoxical mind.

His ship was sinking. And he was taking you all down with him.

…I wear many faces each one feels new, But none will fit like I want it to Left with a voice that's small and untrue Burying deep I don't know what to do

In this mirror, I’m searching for clues, But this reflection is oddly askew. You scream through the glass, “Stay real and stay true!” But if you’re me, then…who are you?

You could hear a pin drop.

Suguru stopped breathing.

He couldn’t believe that he actually did it. He had never been so vulnerable.

If you thought you knew him and what he was going through before, you were left stunned and corrected.

A few of his scores floated into the air, and though you couldn’t see them all, the few you did were perfect 10s.

It would’ve been hell to go directly after that—thankfully, you had a few more people before you.

Time crept closer and closer to your set—nervous sweats and fidgeting fingers kept you company.

So much for keeping a hobby a hobby, you thought, pacing backstage.

This wasn’t fun for you anymore; it was always supposed to be fun, easy, natural.

But this was no longer just about you.

It never was.

It was about proving anyone who ever doubted wrong.

When the host called your name, you made those 3 minutes on stage feel like your last.

Rain, rain don’t go away, You’re the only one who stays, Cross my heart and hope to die I promise that I will not cry

Build and build and There it goes! All for naught and just for show Hypnotize your guards to grave Leave the trust to fade away

This was your final plea to be heard by the world if you had ever made one.

A letter to those who ever dismissed, ignored, or left you.

Fire and brimstone poured from the pit of your soul—served up on a plate with the audience in mind but Suguru as the guest of honor.

You thought he’d be away in the dressing room or at least within earshot, but no. He stood tall and bright, leaning against the door frame that led out to the hall, backlit by the warm lights that framed his figure, watching.

Listening.

Knowing the poem was partially about him.

You hoped it hurt him as much to hear it as it did for you to write it.

Deep breaths kept your voice steady—he wouldn’t hear it crack this time as you powered through your trembles. Bold and brash. Unleashing your truth.

He saw it in your eyes and unconsciously did the only thing he knew to support you, the beginning of your connection—trust that blossomed into turmoil. The small nod of approval.

Years had passed.

Envy had pushed you to avoid him.

He accepted that you no longer saw him as a friend.

Yet he still wanted to show his support.

And it pissed you off.

…Lo and behold the savior's light Here to take another flight Take me by my desperate hand Lead me how you only can Fragile like a gentle rose I will follow where you go.

Shadows whisper of the known What I am. I am alone...

You walked off stage before you could see your final scores.

Whatever would be was now out of your hands—the relief felt agonizingly sweet.

Your team lead wrapped you in her arms as you silently cried. You didn’t know how long the tears had been building up, but the release was like a dam burst.

Crying on your first international trip to Belgium.

Nice.

A final intermission was left, and the scores were tallied. You guzzled down some water and took a few breaths before meeting the rest of the contestants. Finally, finally, you and Suguru stood side by side again on stage. Your entire history had built up to this moment—ready to declare a winner. Ready to determine whether you finally caught up.

His pinky brushed yours, sending sparks to your belly like that day on his porch.

Head down, you waited for a name to be called.

Any name, every name, would be better than—

“Suguru Geto.”

Naturally rolling off their tongue.

Suguru stiffened beside you like he couldn’t believe it himself as they motioned for him to come forward. In your mind, everything went quiet. You couldn’t feel anything but emptiness in the pit of your stomach. Not even anger.

Before he moved a muscle to claim the spotlight, he turned to you, daring to offer his hand again. But it felt less like a “Job well done!” and more like a pitiful “I’m sorry.” And you had had enough of condolences.

You turned away and left the stage in the midst of the raging applause for Suguru. No one else may have caught the cold shoulder, but to Suguru, it felt like he was trapped in ice. He could leave your life forever now for all you cared.

This was your one, final chance to make things even between you two.

But reality was a bitch.

You couldn’t get away from him quick enough.

Yes, you’ve gotten to travel the country. Yes, you got the opportunity of a lifetime to go overseas just off your hard work alone, but all of that meant nothing if you were only second best.

It was redundant.

What was even the point in trying? You would never be good enough to stand on your own. Always under his shadow, drowning in his wake.

It wasn’t.fucking.fair.

You brushed past your team lead, contestants—anyone trying to tell you how amazing you did. You couldn’t stand being bathed in lies and beelined out the back of the venue.

“Fuck this.” You choked back tears, breath escaping you as you pushed the door open.

The contrast of sharp, cold air whipped your face, making you realize you didn’t grab your jacket, but it was just what you needed to set the gravity of your situation in.

You were nothing.

You bawled your fists.

And foolish for trying.

Hyperventilating.

Look at what you came from. Look at what you get for trying to change that.

Hot, fat tears spilled down your face as you huddled in a corner of the building. You wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to shield the icy winds, but you already felt dead inside. Pathetic and worthless. It was out of your hands to change that.

A voice called after you, belonging to the last person you wanted to see right now. That soft, angelic voice that swooned the world and made your insides boil. Why couldn’t he just get it?? Why couldn’t he stay the fuck away??

You thought you had hidden yourself well by putting a bit of distance between the exit and the corner you tucked into, but he found you in seconds, tears dried on your face, crouching into your knees.

He stood there gaping, completely overwhelmed by the state of you.

For once, he was out of words.

“Well??” It was hoarse and cracking.

“I-I’m—”

“Oh my God, pLEASE fucking save it!” You shook, burying your head into your arms.

It was enough that he got to bask in your pathetic breakdown with front-row seats. He didn’t need to pretend he didn’t enjoy it.

But Suguru was fed up with your bullshit and came looking to tell you about it. The final straw was leaving his extension of sympathy high and dry as you walked off stage. Giving him the ultimate “fuck you” in his moment of congratulations.

He never understood why you hated him—the resentment, what happened, what he’d done. But he was about to make you explain yourself.

“Get up.” Gentleness left his voice.

He came closer and towered over your petite frame, cornering you so you couldn’t run away. “You think I don’t know how much this meant to you?”

When you didn’t answer, he crouched down to your level.

“Hey.”

You buried yourself deeper.

“Hey.”

“Don’t touch me.” You brushed him away, pressing your back into the wall as you stood up, shivering in the wind.

But it felt like you had punched him in the gut.

He had never seen you so bothered before, and the revelation that you were pointing the finger and naming him the culprit made his chest feel tight. It felt worse attempting to bury your heart on your sleeve. But the extent of your scorn was on full display.

After a moment of looking your bitterness in the face, it finally clicked for Suguru.

Why you hated him. Couldn't stand to look at him. Avoided him.

Why you started all of this competitive bullshit in the first place.

The root of it was more painfully obvious to see than the daggers in your eyes. What else could it be?

“You’re jealous.”

And that set you off.

“HA!” It almost hurt to laugh. “Jealous?!”

People could probably hear you inside the venue. But Suguru knew just what to say to get you to talk.

“This whole time, I thought you were upset because I left, but…you’re just jealous.”

You snorted. “You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”

“What? You don’t think I earned this?”

“Who knows? Mommy buys you everything.”

“Woah,” he held up a hand and laughed, “Is that what this is about?”

Your cheeks burned hot, but you had egg on your face and had just spilled the beans. But fire still raged in your chest.

“You could have had anything else. Anything! Anything in the world, but you just had to take this from me!”

“How was I supposed to know??” he cut you off, “You stopped talking to me.”

You felt a pang and fell silent—flurries of unread texts, unopened Snaps, and missed calls played in both of your minds.

“How was I supposed to know anything? How was I supposed to have anything without making you feel bad?”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Without me, you’d probably still be sitting on that dusty ass porch (you loved that porch), watching everyone go and fucking live life.”

“I was like 7.”

“9.” You rubbed the blooming goosebumps on your arms.

“Whatever, you think I owe you or something? You want a ‘thank you’?”

His tone made you shift, but you puffed up your chest.

“No, I don’t need a thank you." Your eyes narrowed. “I’m just not that impressed.”

Oh?

He scoffed, backing away with a smirk, arms swinging as he looked away then back at you. “You’re full of it.”

“You’re not that talented.”

He cocked his head, raising a brow. You were questioning his talent—clearly emotional and spewing lies—but it was a shot at his reputation nonetheless.

His smirk faltered as he clasped his hands. “You wanna go?” And then he got closer. Your breath caught as he studied your face, his left arm shooting out to frame you, pinning you into the corner.

The heat radiating off his body should have been a comfort in the frosty air, but fuck, you also felt other things that raced your heart and made you hate yourself.

He leaned over you. “How would you like to eat your words? Fried? Or sautéed?”

His eyes bore into yours, daring you to buck up or back down. But just because he finally had the balls to challenge you and take up space didn't mean you were intimidated.

He was the same little boy he'd always been.

And you were quick to remind him.

“Bite me, Get—”

Instead, he kissed, capturing your lips in a way that shot electricity down your spine and stole the breath and shriek right out of your body.

In an instant, you swore your pupils morphed into hearts. For so long, he's wanted to do that—kiss your sweet, supple lips that ramble nonsense and shut you up—bridge the gap between your broken friendship to ask for more, to make all your fire, resistance, and anger melt away...so you could come back to him.

Knees weak, you nearly staggered, scrambling for the walls to keep you up, but was saved by his hand cradling your hip to hold you. Keep you. Protect you. Your heart burst.

You pulled away, eyes heavy. Leaving a sliver of space between your lips to see your heated breaths mingling in the chilly air as he rested his forehead against yours. Softly, you cradled his face in your hand, feeling waves of longing swell through your body—his had already burst. Then you slapped him.

“How’s that for poetry?” And left.

extended angel's note: this story took a TOTALLY different turn from what i originally planned (thanks Mac Miller) but omg it's sO much better and kinda fits into all of the sugu angst i have planned (oh how i love to hurt myself so). this story in particular was supposed to be like all smut and no exposition but um…things happen 😅 sO, all of the low-angst, ‘enemies’ to lovers lives in part 1, with a focus on the resolution in part 2: lovers who give in and chose each other arc while remaining focused on my original goal of making a smut that spotlights and actualizes realistic sex. learning each other, listening, patiently growing, and choosing.

#bluuharem #God is Fair #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk poc reader #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru smut #jjk smut #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #anime fanfic

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whiskeyskin · 5 months

Text

Goddesses and Mortals

Premise: After the events of Love and Longing, Gale finds out that his feelings are reciprocated.. and that's not all.. 😳🍑🫵

Accidental sequel to a previous fic cause I can't get this lonely Wizard out of my head without the promise of a potentially happy ending 🥹 in more ways than one 😏🍆

Gale x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M rating • MDNI

Gale POV, reader referred to as 'you', no specific mention of gentials or gender, porn with plot?, Mystra can fuck right off, fantasies becoming reality, longing, love, tenderness, mutual masturbation, anal fingering (M receiving), unabashed consent, mild cum swapping, minor sub/dom energy, marking if you squint

5.3k words

Special thanks to @senualothbrok for nestling this tadpole in my brain for Gale to get the real deal one day.. 💜

And at it again @spellbooking with another beautiful gif of our Rizzard ☺️ Thank you! 💜

•°•°•

Gale was close, very close.

He had to hurry, the party would all be rising from camp soon. Though there was no sunlight in this desolate place, a full rest was almost upon him.

Safely secluded in the abandoned house on the far reaches of camp; sweat damp on his brow, his hand slick with salvia, Gale feverishly pumped his length in quick bursts.

Your illusion image looked up at him through lidded eyes licking your bottom lip hungrily and growling a hedonistic moan.

"Gale.." you whimpered, the voice distorted.

"Yes, love.. I'm going to come for you.. only for you.. come with me." He bit out, on the precipice of orgasm.

Suddenly, a faint lilting of rosewater assailed his nose and stopped him dead.

A cold dread filled his body, incapacitating his lungs.

Mystra.

It couldn't be.

Surely not.

Not here.

Not now.

Why right now for hell's sake?

He'd not felt her presence since she'd tried to wedge herself between you both when you'd shared a moment of magic in camp.

Despite their separation, she still checked in on her disgraced former chosen and lover at the most inopportune moments.

Fumbling, he quickly tucked himself away in his waistband and spun on his heel.

Nothing.. but the scent remained.

Had she finally gotten sick of his abusing himself constantly to the fictitious likeness of you, using her magical essence to do so?

Had she been sensing him masturbating at least twice a day since her intervention charm through Elminster?

Was she making herself known to quell his incessant self-gratification, or to participate in it?

Even a tenday ago, that would have been a comforting thought. One he would have relished in, taken solace and pride in.. but this felt wrong.

His sweet nothings he had whispered in the dead of night to "you" weren't for Mystra's perverse enjoyment, or sick amusement, weren't for her for to cast judgement on.

"I don't know why you're here," he called brazenly, "but I assure you, this is nothing that concerns you any longer. Now, if you'd be so kind, leave me in peace." He requested, firmly.

Silence.

He wasn't convinced.

"And I don't appreciate the timing of you little assertion here. Now that I'm finally on a path of some kind of healing, you make yourself known?" He snapped, pointing a finger at nothing.

"You have no reason to be here. You have already spoken your will and want with my life and until such a time that that moment arrives, I will do what I want, with whomever I want. Be they real, or fantasy is no concern of yours. Now, leave." He frowned and gestured finally.

The warmth in the air he didn't realise had been present disparated. He was left cold.

Just like always with her.

"Gale?" Called your voice, your vision now by the doorway.

He looked up to see you leaning on the doorframe, slightly bleary.

"Sorry, my love. I got distracted. Less said about that, the better. Now," he beckoned a crooked finger towards himself, "let's get back to where we were before everyone wakes up."

You frowned and looked him up and down, "Did you just call me, 'my love'?" You asked.

For the second time that early morning, Gale's blood ran cold.

"And what exactly were we doing before?" You irked a brow, looking amused.

Gale struggled for words as the blood that had been swiftly journeying to the south was urgently redirected north.

"I-uh-I did? Must've been a mistake. What are you doing up so early?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

You squinted, "Who were you talking to?"

"No one." Gale answered, feigning innocence.

"Wow, that was convincing." You teased with mockingly wide eyes. You narrowed your eyes at him and he felt a gentle brush against his mind. You were seeking permission. He allowed it.

"Mystra?" You asked with a tense lilt. Gale nodded.

"Thought so, I heard you calling that you were trying to move on and someone was suddenly trying to get your attention again. Is everything alright?" You asked, your tone worried and sincere.

Gale's heart bloomed.

"Yes, since her missive from Elminster, she's reached out. I don't have time for it."

"That's a massive step for you, Gale. You said something about moving on, is that true?"

"Somewhat." He answered in a half truth.

You smiled, "Is she still here?" There was a pause, Gale could see the cogs turning, "Did you want to make her jealous? Is that why you called me 'my love'?"

Gale blinked twice.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe you snuck up here to be with me. Maybe I'm the one you're moving on with."

Again, Gale blinked twice.

How unintentionally right you were.

He swallowed.

"Would that be something you're interested in helping me with?"

"To fuck with the gods? Anything." You purred the last word down the connection at him and it made the hairs on his neck raise like you'd whispered it directly against his skin.

"Then by all means, take the lead."

You irked a seductive brow and turned down your head to gaze through lidded eyes.

He swallowed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You're just so gods damned handsome. I'm glad we could sneak away again." You walked towards him confidently, a slight prowl in your gait.

Gale's blood supply had ignored previous instruction and fully marched back south. The sight of you - truly you - saying these things to him had him dizzy from the rush of blood.

"Not to worry, I quite enjoying being gawped at."

"Well, it's certainly no hardship." You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for a sensual hug, while he desperately tried to keep his erection from your notice.

"Mm, we have to be quick. We don't have much time until the others wake up." You crooned, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Did the minor illusion keep you warm enough while I was gone?"

And for the third time that morning, Gale's body shot full of ice.

His blood entirely confused, threw it's hands up in defeat for direction.

You knew?

How could you know?

He was careful.. wasn't he?

Your hands never stopped roaming; his arms, his shoulders, his neck.. his hair.. oh gods, up into his hair.

Gale's breath hitched and shuddered.

Oh gods, you felt like heaven. Even if he felt like he was in hell.

"I know you like me to watch you but I've been so neglectful lately with everything that's been going on. Can you forgive me?" You pulled back from him, your face pulled into a beautifully twisted smile, sin pulled at the edges.

"I th-think you can make it up to me." He gasped.

Your eyebrows flexed in amusement up your forehead, "Do you want me to watch you right now? With everyone waiting in camp, drinking tea and preparing breakfast?"

You smoothed your hands from his shoulders to the top of his chest, "Do you like the anticipation of being caught, Gale? The rush of being found?"

Oh gods, you were so close. You smelled so good, like lemongrass and lavender.. and underneath the balms, your musk, your scent. You.

"I would do anything, as long as it was with you, my love." He breathed, unable to contain the emotion in his voice.

Your eyes unfocused for a brief moment, then came back, blinking as though seeing through an unfogged mirror.

A soft gasp caught in the back of your throat; that noise could state him for a thousand nights.

Then you stepped away.

You averted your gaze, and backed away from his arms completely. You shut your eyes tightly.

"Gale, I-"

You opened them, a wealth of feelings swirling but he couldn't decipher any of them.

"I need to get back to camp. We need to get to Moonrise Towers today, with Isobel's blessing we can cross the Shadows. We need to be ready." You nodded curtly and disappeared.

Gale stared after you, the cold air of the Shadowlands around him a cruel but poetic pathetic fallacy.

He groaned and closed his eyes against balled fists, as he pressed them against his eyes. Tears brimmed behind them, hot frustrated tears.

"Gods fucking dammit."

***

Gale had attempted to maintain distance today, which had been difficult considering you'd partied up together with Karlach and Shadowheart.

Karlach had tried to question his glum mood, but he'd simply recused it as nerves of their close proximity to the potential Heart of the Absolute.

"Ah, Gale. If there's anyone who knows how shit it is to have a ticking time bomb in their chest, it's me. Come and speak to me sometime mate, yeah? We can talk about it."

"Karlach, you're truly a soul that steels my own. I may just take you up on that."

A firm nod and a beaming smile from Karlach ended the conversation as they entered this Balthazar's chamber, after which none of them really had the stomach for food that night.

Wyll had stepped up and made a hearty bowl of vegetable and meat stew. It was nothing on his own cooking, of course but it was a valiant attempt.

Needed a little more pepper.

You sat nursing your bowl, generally making conversation around the fire. Halsin had joined you back from Last Light with no new news of the catatonic lost soul, apart from that he kept singing. A lute of significance to him had been added to your list of items to retrieve; an ever growing list.

Gale swallowed a mouthful and risked a glance towards you, your eyes met for a brief moment before you looked away, uncomfortable. His heart sank.

He'd truly ruined any chance of friendship after his desperate behaviour this morning. You'd barely spoken two words together all day, and now you wouldn't look him in the eye.

He excused himself for an early night and retreated to his tent. He lit his candles and pulled out one of the many books he'd picked up along today's excursions around Moonrise, hoping that one of them would point them towards the heart.

***

The noise around the campfire grew weary as he poured over his readings. Various 'goodnights' alerted him to the potentially late hour.

Gale sighed and rubbed his eyes, he conjured a bookmark, closed it and drained his glass of wine.

Now that he'd been pulled from his focus, he realised how tired he was. Physically drained from a gruelling day of emotional turbulence.

Rosewater gently lilted under his nose, he snorted it back out.

"Oh for the love of-! Bugger off!" He spat through a whisper.

"I'm sorry." Came your voice from behind him.

He spun around on his knees to see you hastily trying to leave his tent.

"No!" Called a little too loudly, reaching out across the space, "Not you. I didn't mean you."

You stopped, looking back at him for the first time since the morning. The soft glow of the candles illuminating your wonderful face, his heart squeezed uncomfortably.

"I assume she's back again, then?" You asked through terse lips, glancing around the low lit interior of his tent.

"Where rosewater is, Mystra's sure to follow. What can I do for you?" Gale asked, shaking off the lingering of his former lover.

"I-," you started, wringing your hands, "I wanted to apologise for this morning."

Gale blinked.

You wanted to apologise?

"What for?" He questioned his tone incredulous.

"For it all. I embarrassed you, I embarrassed myself.. I acted poorly. I thought it would be a good way to show that I knew what you'd been doing-with the minor illusions." Gale's eyes widened. He'd been attempting to solve that one today.

"H-How did you find out?"

"I'd cast Detect Thoughts on Jaheria when we met her at the Inn, and it lasts all day. I heard you when I was laying down to rest. All the things you wanted to do." You swallowed thickly, and a jolt of excitement shot it's way through his cock to his brain.

That was two nights ago.

He'd fantasized about gourging on your sex as you mounted his face, fucking yourself with his mouth as you leaned back with one hand to stroke him. He'd made a mess of his walls, as well as himself.

"You've got a pretty interesting imagination, Gale. Especially since we seem to be ethereal galaxy people in your head." You smiled, folding your arms across yourself, "The one from last night was pretty hot too." You bit your bottom lip to contain more, and swallowed.

He remembered that vividly.

He'd fantasised about spooning you, fucking into you and playing with you from behind. The mirror image had gasped and moaned for him, breathed his name over and over again, as he came to the thought of pleasing you enough to milk his cum inside your clenching walls.

"I thought it was just sex, that maybe we could get rid of some nervous energy together but then this morning.. the way you-you looked at me.." you trailed off, Gale's heart hammered against his chest.

You rest your splayed hands across your heart, "I was foolish. You're not the kind to just sleep around. To have casual sex and not think of it again."

"Like Astarion?" He quipped before vetting the venomous comment.

You tightened your lip, "Kind of." You answered, with a tone that felt loaded with more secretive information but he didn't want to pry.

Well, he did.

But not right now.

"I could be." He postured, looking up at you.

You let out a short laugh, "That face this morning is not the face of someone who can just have sex and not want more."

He hardened his face, "It could be.. if you wanted to be.." Gale irked a brow, feigning a casual air.

"Oh, yeah?" You goaded, leaning on one hip and folding your arms again.

"Absolutely. We could have sex right now and I wouldn't bat an eyelid." He lied, pushing his lips down into a grimace, while his cheeks flushed and his heart pounded against his sternum.

"Really?" You questioned, looking dubious.

"Unquestionably." Gale punctuated with a flick of his fingers, relaxing into his position on the floor, widening his knees to sit back on his heels in an attempt at nonchalance.

"So, you fantasising about kissing my neck, my chest, stomach and hips and calling me "my love" means nothing." You stated, using air quotations.

"Certainly not. Mere sweet talk." Gale shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, while sweat gathered on his forehead.

You kicked off your hip and confidently strolled towards the short distance to him. His mouth instantly dried to dangerous levels of dehydration, as he tried to keep composure.

"And imagining your cock in my mouth, telling me how much you adore me, that isn't telling at all?" You sneered a lip through a smirk and shrugged one shoulder.

"Demonstrably." He tried to remain calm but every cell in his body was panicking, "Do you see me reacting?" He willed himself through words not to show a care.

Your tongue broke through your smirk to rub against your top teeth and his felt it between his legs, he jerked unconsciously.

"You're glowing." You drawled, dipping your eyes to his chest, "Do you even realise the orb lights up when you're horny?"

Gale's painfully stony face dropped as he quickly darted his vision to his chest.

You were indeed correct.

Through his camp clothes, a faint purple hue eminated through the fabric. Gale shot his had to cover his blatant display of arousal. He gave a sharp exhale through his nose and closed his eyes in utter embarrassment.

"This tent has been a purple colour show since Crèche Y'llek." You teased, the sound of your voice curved around a grin.

Gale's chest hollowed.

Gods dammit.

Mystra dammit.

"Oh and also this.." Suddenly he felt something graze along the length of his concealed erection - what he thought was a his concealed erection.

He let out a whining gasp, his hand slapping against worn leather, and he opened his eyes.

You'd rubbed the top of your boot under and against him in his kneeled position, gliding his sensitive member with the leather of your shoe. You continued the rhythm, the gentle friction was delicious, he gasped open mouthed.

Oh gods, it was real.

You were real.

It wasn't a cruel trick, or a fantasy.

It was you.

Gale reached up to grasp the crook of your knee, you held your gaze steadfast against his own. He began to pull off your boot, your eyes never faultered from his as it was flung to the back of the tent.

Your foot resting on his thigh, his hand still holding the meat of your strong calf.

You took his prickly chin within your fingers, eyes unsure.

"If this going to happen, it's just sex. Nothing more." You stated, in a low tone.

Gale nodded, trembling from anticipation.

"I mean it. If you're on a path to self-destruction in the name of a Goddess, I'm not wasting my time with feelings." Your voice caught and anger flashed across your features but tears hinted in your eyes.

You slid your foot off his thigh and slowly descended to crouch in front of him, taking his face fully in your hands. Their warmth slid into the deepest recesses of his lonely soul.

"I care about you, Gale. You're worth far more than what she's asked you to do. Far more."

He poured over your face, so close to him. Emotions that he had denied himself bubbling to the surface; the longing, the loneliness.. the fear.

You ran a thumb to dry a tear he hadn't realise had fallen.

"Say something." You whispered, your gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips.

Oh gods.

This was to truly happen?

He'd kiss your beautiful, soft lips?

His breathing was unsteady, the anticipation coiled dangerously around every facet of his musculature.

Gale opened his mouth to speak, to utter sweet poetry regaling your beauty, your passion, your wit and wisdom but the words would not form, they were stunted on his paralysed tongue.

You were so close.

He could feel the heat from your body, he could see the wisps of your hair moving with his unsteady breath.

You came closer and pressed your lips between his brows, electric tingling his skin in your wake. His eyes lolled shut as he finally brought his hands to hold you to him, press you to him, to feel you finally.

He slid his hands below the seam of your shirt, to feel your smooth and scarred skin, fire grazing his fingertips at the contact.

"I-.. I care for you deeply. I cannot deny this." He began breathlesly, your forehead's connected, your bodies melting together. You sank further into the embrace, widening your legs to fully welcome him between your thighs.

The image of that first night he touched himself to thoughts of you, bloomed across his mind and he bit his lip.

"Neither can I." You agreed, the sound of your voice low and raspy, "It scares me, Gale. It scares the shit into me," you leaned back, holding on to the back of his neck, slowly leading you both down to the carpeted rugs below his bedroll, "Show me. Show me I'm not wrong to feel this way. Show me I'm not alone in this."

Gale shook in head, almost trance-like, "You're not alone-not alone.. I'm with you." He followed you down, desperate not to lose a second's touch with you.

"And I'm with you, I'm not letting you go." You spoke the words against his mouth, it made his mind numb.

"No, never. Never leave me." He mumbled, as you both situated yourselves on the floor. Words bubbled and frothed out of his mouth before he could stop them, "I've been so utterly alone for so long, cut off from everyone I knew and cared for.. and I'm terrified, I'm filled with dread each day. I don't want to die-I want to stay.. stay here." He mewled through the overwhelming emotion in his throat. You increased the intensity of your touch against your brows.

"Shh, none of that matters now. It doesn't exist. For now.. it's just us.. you and me.." you whispered against his skin, he felt it shiver down every vertebrae.

"You and me." He repeated, comforted by the softness in your voice.

Suddenly, your hand grasped his naked cock. He yelped in pleasure, but was hushed by the passionate meeting of your mouth. You captured his cries, claiming them as your own.

His fingers bunched your shirt, his knuckles white, as your tongue swept in to merge with his.

Oh gods.

You tasted like wine, and oranges, and sex.

He'd imagined your taste, your scent.. but this.. the full force of you was so much more intense that he could have expected.

You fingered his leaking slit and he jerked at the sensation, causing you both to make involuntary, open-mouthed moans.

You increased in fervour at his reaction, a desperate whine eeking from his body.

It was too much but not enough. He wanted more, more of you, more of this. He wanted the world to fall away and to be consumed by only you.

Like you said; "Just you and me."

Even though it would be grammatically correct to say 'You and I'.

Your hand wrapped around the length of him, pumping the head of his penis in short, lanquid bursts.. and suddenly the correctness on ones grammar seemed worlds away.

Gale shuddered and knelt over your body, settling himself between your gorgeous thighs, pressing down against your sex, enough to make you gasp.

You shared a wicked grin together before he cradled you to him, desperately kissing and mating your tongues. His hips unconsciously twitching against the friction of your hand.

"Gods, Gale. I want you." You keened against his lips, puffs of air escaping aggressively from your lungs, as his hips drove against you.

"Yesyesyesyesyes.." he chorused, messily thrusting against your palm, "Want this. Want you. For a long while.. even before.."

"Did you fantasize about all the positions we could fuck in?"

A sharp feeling settled low in his gut and he squeezed his eyes shut to close out a threatening, pre-emptive climax.

"Yes, wanted you.. badly." He added, barely able to speak.

"I know, I saw. Sweating and willing underneath you?"

"Yess.." he hissed.

"Slipping a finger inside me, then another, preparing me to take you?"

Another deliciously painful pang shuddered inside him.

"Stretching my tight hole for you, till I'm begging you to fuck me hard and unrelenting?" You growled against his lips.

Gale tensed his jaw to mute a groan from his chest, as your words gripped the back of his head.

Oh dear fucking gods.

You were very, very good at this.

"I especially liked where I got to play with you. Those moans at the back of your throat when you'd think of me on top, or taking charge.. I had trouble concentrating yesterday because I couldn't stop replaying those sounds."

He heard you whisper an incantation, that his lust-filled brain slowly realised was Mage hand, the moment before he felt the cold sensation working his undergarments completely free, pushing them down passed his knees.

"There was one particular part you seemed to be interested in exploring together." You purred against his temple, as you twisted your grip around his plump, weeping member.

The Mage hand palmed at the cleft of his ass and lazily dragged it's fingers up his perennium, sliding towards his..

He gasped, throwing his head back and loosening his tight hips to tilt them upwards in wanton display.

"Oh gods." Gale whimpered, biting down on his lip hard, "Mm-Mhm." He panted in abandon.

He'd experimented with himself in this matter in his youth and in his newfound sexual freedom after his year of self imposed celibacy but never with another.

The magical fingers languidly drawled across his sensitive skin. He bucked and jerked against the feeling of you pleasuring him, needing more of both.

You groaned and rutted your hips against him.

"You look so beautiful like this, I can see you in the mirror behind you. You look spectacular, spreading yourself for me." You crooned, praising him and licking your bottom lip. You looked beyond him to what he assumed was his mirror.

Oh gods.

You were going to watch him like this.

Like he'd imagined.

Exposed.

Hedonistic.

Depraved.

The thought waved over his brain and made him dizzy, the desire swelled low in his belly.

"You're so willing and receptive, Gale. Do you want me to slide these fingers inside you? To pleasure you completely until you can't comprehend your own name?" You asked salaciously, assuring consent before blindly continuing. He raised his hips higher for better access as wordless agreement.

The mage hand ran a soaked finger across his puckering hole but ventured no further without express permission.

His whole body trembled, desire coarsing through his veins, soaking into every orifice.

"Yes.. yes.. fuck. I need it. Please.. please.." he wailed through staggered breath.

"Look at me." You instructed softly, halting your motions of abject pleasure.

With great difficulty, Gale did as he was told. He about exploded with joy with the sight of you.

He'd imagined you, summoned your likeness but nothing could ever compare to this.

The aura of his orb bathed you in a magical amethyst glow; the adoration shining in your eyes, the seductive curve of your lip, the sweat flattening your hair to your temples.

"So handsome.. so beautiful. Look at you, look at how you light up for me.." you smiled, guilding him with compliments as you raise a hand to touch the angry purple mark on his chest, now emblazoned with Mystra's star. "This does not define you. You are not the orb. You are not Mystra's chosen. You are Gale and you chose your own path. You are, and will always be, enough.. just as you are.."

Soft tears fell from his eyes from the intensity of his emotional response to your words and the physical stimuli of the hand gently testing his entrance.

You gently kissed the apples of his wet cheeks, then looked up at him with a darkened expression.

"Arch your back for me, sweetheart."

Gale instantly buried his face against your neck, lifting his exposed self for you.

"Good.." you cooed, beginning a slow pace to pump his cock again.

"Ohh, gods." His whined against your skin, his limit already close.

"Relax.." you whispered, kissing his temple, "Relax for me, darling. Take a deep breath, and let it out. Keep breathing."

Gale did as he was told. With each expell of air he loosened the muscles surrounding his asshole. The need growing to dizzying heights.

Pressure pushed against his rim as the finger glided halfway, he gasped and clenched unconsciously.

"Breathe, Gale." You soothed, pressing soft kisses to his face, "You're handling this so well."

Further and further you pushed inside him, delicious sensation flooding his body. His body tense and limp simultaneously, as the pleasure radiated through him from his pulsating walls.

"Fuck." He barely managed.

He kissed your neck and sucked down on the bite marks left by Astarion. He would make his own mark on you. One that everyone would see.

You gasped, your breath catching as you rolled your hips against him, teeth lightly nipping at his ear lobe.

Gale felt the friction of your other hand reaching down between you to stimulate your own release. His urge re-doubled in it's efforts to push him higher, intoxicated by your arousal.

He could feel your desperate movements between you, lightly grazing his testicles with the back of your hand.

You surprised him by gently pinching the head of him and thumbing the slit before initiating an unyielding, rapid rhythm wrapped around his cock. Synchronizing with curling the Mage hand towards his stomach, rubbing over the knot of his prostate.

A ragged, strained noise escaped from his throat as the sensations joined, assailing him from both sides.

He pushed back against the Mage hand, taking it's digit to the hilt.

"Oh yes, that's it. Enjoy it. It's for you.. all for you." You chorused his words to you, the words he used every night to pray to your false altar.

But now he had you, truly had you.. and you were spectacular.. you could not be formed into words.. you transcendend this mortal plane.. you were.. more than Godly.. you were-

A second finger penetrated him without refute and stretched his hole, doubling the pleasure against his sweet spot inside his ass, and he cried out in sheer bliss. Your hand wrapped around his cock, pumping in jubilant rhythm combined with the thrusting of the spell deep inside him.

The precipice of orgasm gripped him like a vice and choked him of all other need, apart from that to cum.

In that moment of blessed eternity, the world was narrowed down to nothing more than you and him. A vaccum in existence bathed in magical light.

Rapture split through every atom of his existence, building and climbing in a torrent of unstable energy.

"Yes, Gale-yes-come. Come with me."

His mouth open, panting like a rabid dog, he lost himself entirely.

He roared and strained and gasped, as he shot thick ropes all over your torso. His asshole squeezed and clenched tightly on the digits deliciously stuffed inside him working his orgasm longer. Your skilled hand milking every last drop from him.

He gulped for breath as you cried out underneath him, jerking against your own hand, breathless and exhilarated.

He watched you come undone underneath him, eyes screwed, mouth gaping, then biting down to quieten your moans.

Dear gods, you looked exquisite.

He reached a hand between you both to feel the after effects of your rhapsody, you twitched and laughed through a smile, as he stroked your sensitive sex in the wake of orgasm, riding you longer like you were to him.

"Stopstopstop-too much." You barely gasped against his sweat laden forehead.

There you lay, for what seemed like an easy age, together.

Aftershocks struck you both as you lay together in your joined euphoria.

The Mage hand had disappeared and left him feeling pleasantly sore from the hectic pace.

Gale pushed himself up onto his forearm, extracating his hand from between you. It was covered in your release, it glistened on his hand.

It was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen. Something he hadn't fantasied.

He glanced back to you, you also held up your hand drenched in him.

You opened your mouth, clearing indicating to feast on yourself from his fingers. His tender cock twitched with desire.

He reciprocated his mouth and you swept your digits in his mouth. He tasted himself, licking his semen clean, as you suckled your own essence from his fingers, then pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Gale moaned at the melding of you both on mating tongues. It was pure sex and exhilaration. The desire and need. The fullfilment and warmth.

The kiss broke and you smiled at him, letting out a large breath.

"That was.." He started.

"Incredible." You finished.

"That's one of many words." He mused, laughing breathlessly.

Gale pushed himself up higher, "Oh, gods." He snorted, looking down at the scene of debauchery before him and kneeled onto his heels.

You and he were both covered in cum. It was obscene how licentiously delicious you looked painted with each other.

He remembered the first time he'd cum to your image, how hollow and alone he'd felt.

But not this time.

This time he felt complete.

Like a piece of him had hurried it's way back to him after so long apart.

"Well, that's one way to let off some steam." He chuckled darkly.

"I think it's hot." You smirked, biting down on your lower lip.

Gale swallowed with difficulty, "Careful you, that's dangerous."

Gale heaved out a breath and came to grips with what had just transpired between you both. How little his imagination had been able to conceive of you. What paltry figments had been the stars of his fantasies.

He glanced down upon you; hair mussed, sweat drying on your skin, clothes rumpled and he couldn't have loved you more.

"What?" You asked in a quiet voice.

Gale shook his head, "Nothing." He feigned.

He waved his hand with a simple somantic and the evidence was gone.

"Then come down here, I'm getting cold." You stroked your hands up his arms and enveloped him into an embrace that warmed all the lost parts of his soul.

"I meant it, Gale. I won't let you destory yourself for this. We'll find another way." You nestled yourself deeper into the hug.

Gale smiled contentedly from ear to ear, "I know we will.. because now I have something to live for."

•°•°•

Part 1

Psst.. Ive got a Masterlist too 👀

#bg3 smut #smut #gale x gn!tav #gale x reader #gale smut #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #whiskeyskin

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readychilledwine · 6 months

Note

Hi! I love your writing, it always makes me grin. Could I request a platonic Az fic? One where reader is like 10, super cuddly and touch affection starved and Feyre’s ward (kind of like Evangeline is to Lyssandra), and maybe like the kid or sister of one of the children of the blessed that was sent over the wall but feyre found her and took her in even though Tamlin didn’t like it, so when Mor took Feyre, she had to take reader too, and then during that dinner, she gets scared to meet everyone (especially cass sine he seems intimidating) so she runs behind the nearest person, Az and when he doesn’t get upset, she sticks with him through the dinner, wanting to be next to him, hiding behind his wings, asking for cuddles, and playing with his hands. He doesn’t get upset and reader just decides to follow him like a shadow from then in and make him her fave person, like watching when he train, being sad and quiet when he’s gone (until Nuella and Cereadwin bring her sweets), happy when he’s back, and never leaving his side, and even asking him to carry her etc.

Oath

Warnings - platonic soul mates, mentions of Amarantha and UTM, visions

A/N - I'm not saying I am tucking this away for a rainy day, but I'm not not saying that 👀

Azriel Masterlist

You didn't even have to ask or knock. The door opened, and shadows pulled you in. Guiding you to Azriel in the dark as he opened up his blanket and pulled you up to his bed and into his arms. "Nightmares?" He murmured softly into your hair, holding you close. "It's okay, little one. We all have them." You curled into him, basking in the warmth and protection he offered. His wing rested over you, feeling like a blanket weighing down like a tight hug. "Tell me what you saw?"

You started softly. "A robed figure with swans. But this time, it was like.." You paused, wiping tears from your eyes. "It was like I was a swan. You were on the waterline of the lake, yelling for me."

Azriel went stiff, then pulled you closer to him. "No one is going to take you from me. From us. You are ours to look after."

And you had been since you arrived in the Night Court. You had been ripped from the mortal realm with Feyre by Tamlin. Feyre had taken you in, despite arguments from her sisters, when she found you starving in the streets. You became hers, and she yours. She was closest thing you had ever had to a sister, and her regret the moment you were caught following her Under the Moutain was something she struggled to live with to this day.

Amarantha had taken a liking to you, though. You were a tender human girl she enjoyed using as a personal servant. She kept you at her side, almost always glowing with how much you admired the fae, how you were raised to be complicit to them by the Children of the Blessed. You complimented her constantly, adoring her dresses, her hair, her glowing skin. You had no idea she was so evil. So cruel. That was until Feyre's first trial.

It was Rhysand who pulled you into his room one night, sheltering you from the violence going on. He had whispered to you tales of a city covered in starlight and a family. A family that all found each other, chose each other, loved each other. He had worked you into the bargain with Feyre, ensuring he had you for one week every month, ensuring you were away from Tamlin, who, for unknown reasons, hated you.

When you first came to the Night Court, Rhys spent the week with you, teaching you to read and write more gently than he had Feyre, teaching you the different courts, the different high lords. He had put you in dresses that made his eyes sparkle but grow distant with longing. He had called you his little second chance, and on that second visit, you were sold. You loved Rhysand so fully that you had clinged to him, crying as Tamlin ripped you from his arms.

When Tamlin locked you and Feyre in the manor, it had been the scariest moment of your life. You were still mortal, but the power radiating from her, consuming her as she pulled you into her chest for comfort, was terrifying. She had told you the Night Court would be your home now once she had calmed down, and the decision was made to have dinner with Rhysand's family. Mor had taken you, winnowing you two in and letting you enjoy that drop, that rush of free falling. Everything had been fine until you saw Cassian.

Cassian was loud, he was huge, he had muscles in places you hardly knew could have muscles. You had ended up hiding, much to Cassian's amusement, behind the closest thing you could. Azriel.

And it had begun after that. Azriel became your best friend. You constantly looked for him, snuggled him, loved him. He became your everything and you his. You made him carry you everywhere, take you flying, and made him laugh with you under blanket forts.

On your 9th birthday, he had taken you into town, spoiling you before the war with Hybern begun with pastries, books, new dresses, and a stuffed animal. It was the same day Velaris was attacked. You had been taken from him, locked into a cell with Nesta, who held you close, whispering how it would be okay. You were forced into that same Cauldron as Feyre screamed, held back by Rhysand as the male pleaded for the King to let you go.

Azriel had promised you from that day forward you were his, swearing it to you in an oath that you two sealed with a pinky promise. He promised to protect you. To keep you safe. To make sure anyone who harmed you would regret it. But even Azriel, as powerful as he was, could not save you from the aftermath of the Cauldron.

1 week after your 10th birthday, weird things started happening to you. You had dreams where you saw things. Similar to Elain. Her visions came out in riddles, though. Yours were different. Odd to Rhys and Amren. Odd to Helion. Your powers were similar to a seer, yet so different.

Helion had described it as you walking through timelines. You could see all outcomes with no direction of how that outcome would come to be, whereas Elain saw one possible future and potential riddles guiding to it. "A burden," he had said to Rhysand quietly. "A burden to know each way someone you loved could die, to know what happens if one pawn doesn't move exactly according to plan, but not be able to tell them how exactly it happened."

You had fallen into yourself more, seeking only Azriel with Feyre's pregnancy and Nesta's spiral. You only told him what you saw in your dreams and occasionally the twins if he would send them to you with treats.

He pulled you close again, shaking you from the past. "What else did you see?"

"Elain," you whispered softly. "Lucien holding Elain tightly while she laid on the ground. She no longer glowed with the light of the fae. It was like the cloaked figure had taken it from her."

The grip on your nightgown grew tight. "What else?" His voice was tense, eyes getting slightly distant, letting you know he was communicating with Rhys that you had seen something.

"Rhys had facial hair." Azriel hummed. Unknown to you that you had just given him an idea of the timeline. It would have had to have been after the birth of babe. Rhys only grew facial hair when he was tired. "Feyre and Nesta weren't there. Just Lucien, Elain, the three of you, and I think me."

"As a swan," he repeated.

"Yes, as a swan. Trapped on his lake."

"Do you know how old you were when this happened?"

You shrugged. "No, but we had a string. It wasn't gold and glittering like Rhys and Feyre's, but red and power seemed to flow through it, not emotions. It felt like I was transferring something to you."

Azriel kissed the top of your head. "You know I need to tell Rhys about this?" You nodded. "And you know he may need you to show him?" You nodded again, but shivered at the thought of Rhysand in your mind. "We should also mention the red string to Amren. She what she can dig up."

"But she's so cranky." Hazel eyes, tired and heavy with sleep, peered down at you. "New Amren is way more mean than old Amren."

"A problem for tomorrow. Go to sleep, y/n. I'll keep your nightmares away."

"I love you, Azzie."

"I love you too, y/n. I won't let you turn into a swan."

You were asleep almost instantly, body back on that lake, and a cloaked figure with a bone like figure stroking your wings.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #send asks #send anons #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x platonic!reader

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rose-edith · 4 months

Text

Being a plus size Bridgerton sister would include:

•All your life you’d felt like an imposter, bigger than your sisters- sturdier- curvier. You felt less than, despite being physically more than. And you felt that no one ever really understood that.

•Your mother and Lady Danbury saw no flaws in you, thought you were absolutely beautiful, and kind and clever- but they believed you were simply crippling shy. So naturally, they went out of their way to help ‘bring you out of your shell’. Which yes, was as utterly hellish as it sounds! It meant rounds of introductions to eligible men, being pushed to the centre stage at all family functions, dressed in more jewels than anyone else. They really wanted to make you sparkle, because to them, you were already a diamond. You had been the apple of your Father’s eye before his death, and everytime Violet looked at you, it was Edmund she could see.

•as for the Queen? You may well not exist. She wasn’t even the slightest bit perplexed or excited by you. Which suited you fine!

•Anthony is SO protective of you, and following his marriage to Kate, she becomes protective of you too. Kate and Anthony stare at any members of the ton who even dream of thinking anything unkind.

•On his travels, Colin makes sure to collect for you the most beautiful jewellery or paintings or fabrics. Colin is tender with all his siblings, but he’s the one who listens to you most when you’re upset- he’s the one who sees it, and does his best to support you and build your confidence. Whether it’s fashionable or not to dance with your own sister, Colin will always take you for at least one turn about the floor; he can’t bare for you to be overlooked or be left ‘on the shelf’.

•Benedict is also your number one fan, at balls and social events he’ll often help you to escape- whether he takes you for a turn about the room, to get a drink, or to help you leave early if you’re just not feeling it.

•Growing up, you couldn’t help but be envious of Daphne, of her looks, her success on the marriage mart, her beautiful life with Simon. But as you grew, she showed you that real beauty comes from within anyway. Simon loves you too, finding you to be amusing, clever and witty. As for their children- well, you’re their favourite Aunt!

•Eloise was aloof as ever, she understood rationally and practically why you were somewhat on the outskirts of society. But she enjoyed not being the only one on the outside looking in; and sometimes when she needed an out you would cause a diversion, and vice versa; Eloise was an ally!

•and hand in hand with Eloise came a friendship with Penelope. You realised almost immediately that Pen was Lady Whistledown, but you never told a soul. Not Pen, not Eloise, not anyone. You were proud of Pen for using the harsh reality of a lonely life to create something meaningful; to carve her own career. Penelope was your friend, though she was Eloise’s best friend. She was at your side when Cressida cut across your heart with her barbs and remarks, and when Cressida “accidentally” cut Penelope up, spilt her drink or split her dress, you would retaliate in kind- most notably resulting in her perfectly smoothed down hair getting dislodged when she “tripped” over your out-stretched foot at the drinks table. ‘Poor Cressida!’ You had cried with devilish delight. ‘What an awful spectacle to befall you!’ The music stopped and everyone turned to look as the mighty Cressida crumbled. What an elated victory indeed.

•Francesca was in and out of your lives, going to Bath and escaping the misery of a lonely life in London. But she would send you music; and suddenly the world wasn’t so blue.

•Your favourite people of all to be around though? Hyacinth and Gregory. They were young, brains like sponges ready to learn and laugh and they love you without reservation. You spend afternoons drilling them with dances, playing archery, games, stealing cakes from the kitchens.

•but like all your family, there’s only one thing you ever wanted really: to find love. You just weren’t foolish enough to believe you’d find it yet, but maybe, just maybe, you’d be surprised when love fell directly into your lap.

#Bridgerton #Bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton reader #Bridgerton fanfic #Bridgerton imagine #Bridgerton headcanons #plus size reader #Anthony Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #kate x anthony #eloise bridgerton

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starsxblazing · 8 months

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Cause and Effect (Part 1)

a/n: Finally part one of the series as I work on requests! I tagged everyone that commented on the original story but there were a few that I was unable to. Thank all of you so much in your interest!

Azriel x reader/Archeron!sister

(Part 2)

From the moment that you were forced into the Cauldron, your life had drastically changed. You weren’t sure what to do or where you fit in life. It wasn’t like you truly fit in anywhere anyway but it had only been amplified by being turned into High Fae. Pain and betrayal stayed with you because Feyre had done nothing to help you, Nesta, and Elain. In a sense, you understood why but it didn’t stop the emotions.

Being the youngest of all of the Archeron sisters meant that you were always looked over by everyone. Your father barely acknowledged your existence and Nesta was always more concerned about Elain and her wellbeing. You were only a year younger than Feyre and even she wasn’t treated in the way that you were.

Maybe it was because she took the initiative to risk her life to keep you all fed but when you pushed to help her, she refused your help and brushed you aside like everyone else. The only attention that you got was from a boy your age and you also knew that he didn’t truly care about you. It was only all about him getting what he wanted and then leaving.

The one thing that kept you going, kept you somewhat hopeful, were a select few human holidays that were nearly completely forgotten for a reason unknown to you. There was one in particular that always stood out and you always did your best to celebrate it. Despite that, your low rank in the family simply earned you a scoff and told that it didn’t matter.

You simply wanted to share a small bit of joy that you could hold onto with the four of them. It was hard being so different in the sense that you wanted to spread love and joy but everyone around you was more focused on being miserable with poverty.

The Fae had their own traditions, you had learned, in the separate courts in the new world that you were forced into but that piece of you that loved your holiday felt as if it was slowly dying. Dying just as your humanity had. You had watched in horror as Feyre was forced back to the original court that she had found her first love in. Despite that, you kept silent while standing a few feet away from your two oldest sisters on the ground who were just as drenched as you were.

Mor had all three of you before you had time to blink, sending you all through a pit of darkness before landing in yet another place that you were unfamiliar with. Naturally, everything would be unknown to you and a piece of you didn’t really care. As you sat in your room all alone, your mind drifted to the males in the castle that you had been in and you could only hope that they were alright. Your caring heart wouldn’t let you feel much of anything else.

That was until you began to move between both of your sisters' rooms. You didn’t want to be alone but Elain was in a catatonic state and Nesta simply shoved you out of the room. It was a traumatizing situation for all of you but you craved and longed for someone to be there for you as Nesta was for Elain to help you cope.

Mor had come to check on all three of you within a couple of hours and she was the first one that showed you genuine kindness for the first time in a really long time. It unfortunately didn’t last long before the female left you alone again with the excuse that she needed to check on her friends.

“Are they going to be okay?” you asked worriedly.

“They will be,” she assured with a tender smile. “They just need some rest while the healers work on them.”

“Tell them that I hope that they get better soon.”

She gave you a small smile of understanding and once she left, you made your way back to your room. You hadn’t taken the time before to fully take in the sight before you. The bed was huge, decorated in different shades of blue. Your new bed was just as big and it made you wonder why a bed would need to be so large. It was a far cry from what you were used to in poverty and even the new estate that you had placed in couldn’t compare to this.

The balcony was what caught your attention the most and you couldn’t stop yourself from enjoying the evening breeze that flowed through your hair, setting you at ease as you took in the sight of the city below you. You knew that the small area would be where you would spend a majority of your time if your sisters didn’t want anything to do with you.

Unable to stay in one place, you found yourself wandering aimlessly in an attempt to learn your new surroundings. The simple fact that it was built into the mountain amazed you and you wondered how much work it took to do such a thing. Becoming aware of your surroundings was your main goal but you always ran excitedly when Mor came to visit.

“Have you heard from Feyre?” you asked as you dined with her at the end of your first day in your new dwellings.

No.” Mor shook her head, sadness written in her features. “She’s fully capable of handling herself but we’re hoping that it won’t take her long to accomplish whatever she has planned.”

“And your friends?”

“Our best healer is working on Cassian’s wings,” she answered somewhat hesitantly even though you swore you saw tenderness in her eyes. “Azriel’s wound was nowhere near as bad as it seemed and he’ll be okay in another day or so.”

“I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to have that happen when you have wings.” You shook your head as pain for them filled you. “Or having an arrow in your chest that’s laced with poison.”

“They are Illyrians and they heal quickly,” she assured. “Healing and reconstructing wings is quite difficult but we trust our healer immensely.”

You weren’t given much information and your heart sank whenever she had to leave to check on the injured males. Taking a chance on Nesta again, you slipped into the library to be met with a hostile face. It was all that you could do not to cringe away from that look so you sighed instead.

“Mor just left and said her friends are healing,” you offered.

“I don’t care,” she replied matter of factly, her tone proving her words. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh- Just came for a book,” you muttered, your heart breaking at the hatred that you were receiving.

“Well get it and go.”

Doing as told, you grabbed the first book that you could get your hands on and darted to your room. Mor hadn’t returned on the second day and Rhysand, the High Lord, simply walked through the home, glancing at all three of you before leaving again. You were unable to focus on the words in the romance book that you had unknowingly grabbed as you sat at the dining room table on the third day.

You heard the beat of wings before you saw them and noticed that it was one of the males, Azriel as you remembered, who had landed on the balcony. It took you a moment of staring to realize that he was the most beautiful male that you had ever seen in your relatively short life. He locked eyes with you when he noticed you and his own went wide when you smiled brightly before he stumbled back a step as if he were in shock.

“Hey!” you exclaimed a bit too excitedly, happy to see another person.

“Hi,” he whispered breathlessly.

A small smile formed on his face that only caused you to grin in response.

Tag List:

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover @cleverzonkwombatsludge @alessiazeni @rhenysz @ladespedidas @meritxellao @candyjaypoppins @carnationworld @mulansaucey @why4anne @tsibba01 @sassyangel16 @aetherl0l @wallacewillow0773638 @cherryinsalemverse @lupinswolfsbanes @amysangel @ayme301 @sassyslytherinshai @zeroangelo13 @sirens-and-moonflowers @evye47 @starcrossedsan @impossibelle @landofpetrichor @tuggboatfishin @dr4g0ngirl @one-big-fangirl @mistyheart @ang-taylorsversion @youngblood199456 @anuttellaa

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

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aphroditelovesu · 9 months

Text

Yan!Husband Maegor the Cruel/Yan!Mother-In-Law Visenya Targaryen Headcanons

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Am I obsessed with Visenya Targaryen? Yes I am. Lol, this takes place before he becomes King, except for the ending, so I hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes because it's 3 am where I live ❤️.

❝tw: not compatible with canon, mention of death, forced marriage, death, manipulation and usurpation.

❝🐉pairing: yan!maegor the cruel x female!reader and platonic yandere!visenya targaryen.

Your marriage to Maegor was rushed and you didn't have the chance to refuse or say no. Not when the Dowager Queen was the one who chose you to become her son's wife. You were doomed from the beginning.

Everything happened very quickly, you only remember your parents receiving a letter from the Queen ordering you to come to Pentos immediately. Neither your parents nor you have thought much about it. One mistake and soon you were placed in a ship and shipped off to Pentos without knowing the reason.

It was only after your arrival at the Red Keep that you knew what would happen. Your reason for being there. You would become Maegor Targaryen's wife.

You didn't want to marry him, you knew his reputation well but you no longer had a choice. Not when he had taken an interest in you and the Dowager Queen too.

Everything was done quickly. You were bathed, dressed like a doll and during the night, under several looks of pity and fear, you married Maegor, becoming his first and only wife.

It wasn't that bad, you quickly decided. Maegor was a kind husband to you and tried to make you happy. He let you have your freedoms and do what you wanted, as long as you never left the house in Pentos. Visenya was nothing but sweet to you, your mother-in-law was very affectionate and spent a lot of time by her side. You were grateful for that.

He was a decent and even good husband. You had to deal with his jealous outbursts frequently and his often painful touches, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't bad when you slept with him or when he killed a guard by ripping out his heart because he looked at you for too long. It wasn't that bad, you told yourself every day.

When everything seemed too much to handle, you turned to Visenya and she always comforted you. Everything was fine, she said. This is his way of loving you, that everything would be fine in the end. Visenya knew how to manipulate you with sweet and poisoned words.

There were times when you loved your husband, times when Maegor was your caring and loving husband. This happened when you were on your period or more sensitive and he was a completely different person. His touches weren't harsh, his kisses were soft and his body was soft. You loved these moments.

He had always been possessive and you knew that the best thing to do was not provoke him. You knew very well what your husband was capable of doing, you still had nightmares of when he forced you to watch the terrible murder of your guard after he accidentally touched you.

When this happened, you would curl up on the bed when he left the room and call for Visenya. The only one capable of understanding, you thought. She smiled as she sat next to you and stroked your hair, always repeating that everything would be okay. Your heart hurt, but you blindly trusted your mother-in-law.

With tenderness, Maegor presented you with splendid jewelry, but your greatest treasure was the time you spent together, away from the judgmental eyes of the everyone. He protected you, not just with his warrior skills, but with kind words and gestures of affection.

You came to love Maegor in your own way. And he loved you dearly in return. Although you were still afraid of him, you learned to like him. You would always fear him, but you could ignore that. Because you knew Visenya would never let him hurt you, especially when you found out about his pregnancy.

It was Visenya who discovered it. She always had an eye on you and when one of your maids came up to her and whispered in her ears that you hadn't bled in two months, she smiled huge and knew it was time. It was finally time for Maegor to ascend the Iron Throne.

Maegor was delighted when he found out about your pregnancy. Now everything was falling into place. You will always fondly remember his reaction. How he knelt in front of you and placed his head against your belly, smiling widely and you could swear there would be tears in his purple eyes.

Now everything could fall into place. Maegor would have a secure succession and together with Visenya Targaryen, he usurped the Iron Throne and became King of the Seven Kingdoms. You were present, watching as Visenya crowned her son with his father's crown and everyone watched in awe as the new King ascended.

You clutched your belly as if you were protecting your baby. Maegor stood up and walked over to you, taking a crown that he had ordered forged for you and placed it under your head, crowning you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Visenya watched with pride and satisfaction. Everything was coming together.

1K notes · View notes

simplygojo · 3 days

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Unspoken Desires

Author's Note: THANK YOU for your kind words, my friend!! I loved this request, sorry for the delay on it hehehe. I love the concept of the Drink, Dare, and Desire and think it turned out pretty well so I was so happy to get your request. I hope it is what you were expecting, I am always open to feedback :) Lurrvv u anon <3 (sorry I forgot to include Nanami...MY BADD)

My requests are always open :)

Request: “no cuz like why did Drink, Dare, and Desire eat. its how i found ur account and now ive literally read all of your works. you are so so talented. like fr ur so underrated. i wanted to request if you could do smth similar to Drink, Dare, and Desire but with young gojo, geto, shoko, nanami? potentially a gojo au ^.^” - Anonymous

Pairing: 19yo!Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Word Count : 4.1K

Warnings : 18+ Content, SMUT!, fingering, intercourse, alcohol use

The Jujutsu High dorms were filled with a cozy, intimate glow as the evening wore on. The soft light from the desk lamps cast a warm, inviting hue over the room, creating a perfect setting for a night of relaxation after a rigorous week of training. The air was charged with laughter and the faint, comforting aroma of sake.

You, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko had gathered in the common room, the evening unfolding with a mixture of playful banter and flirtatious energy.

Gojo, as usual, was at the center of it all, his charismatic presence impossible to ignore, not to mention he was such an attention whore. With a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye, he suggested a game of Truth or Dare, promising to spice up the evening.

“Alright, everyone,” Gojo announced, spinning the bottle with a dramatic flourish. “Let’s turn up the heat. Truth or dare?”

Shoko, lounging comfortably on the arm of the couch next to Geto, raised an eyebrow. “I’m in. Let’s make this interesting.”

Geto, leaning casually against the wall with a drink in hand, gave a nod of agreement. “Yeah, I’m game. Let’s take it easy on each other, though.”

The bottle spun and finally pointed to Shoko. She met your gaze with a mischievous grin, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Truth or dare, Shoko?” You asked, your tone laced with playful curiosity.

“Dare,” Shoko replied, her voice steady.

You leaned forward, emboldened by the alcohol and the thrilling atmosphere. “I dare you to share your biggest kink with us.”

Shoko’s cheeks flushed, but she responded with a sense of lazy confidence. “I’ve always been into dominant partners. I like it when someone takes control and knows exactly what they want.”

The room erupted in laughter and knowing looks as the conversation turned to more intimate revelations. The game continued, each turn more daring than the last.

When it was Gojo’s turn, the bottle landed on you. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and mischief as he leaned in, clearly excited to challenge you.

“Truth or dare, y/n?” Gojo asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Dare,” you replied, trying to match his playful tone.

Gojo’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked onto yours with a smouldering intensity. “I dare you to give me a kiss. Right here, right now.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt a rush of heat. The challenge was bold, but you couldn’t resist the thrill it sparked. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smirk tugging at your lips. “Fine. You asked for it.”

Gojo’s expression turned from playful to interested as he leaned towards where you sat beside him. His lips hovered near yours—the anticipation was tangible. You felt a jolt of excitement as you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a tender and fervent kiss.

His kiss was a mix of softness and intensity, his lips exploring yours with a passion that made your heart race. A heat formed between your legs almost instantly after his long fingers found themselves around your belt loop.

The kiss deepened as Gojo’s lips moved against yours with an emotional urgency.

His touch was firm but gentle, and the warmth of his lips moving hungrily against yours made your pulse quicken. You felt a surge of desire, a thrilling intensity that matched the fervour of his kiss.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, Gojo’s gaze was filled with a mix of satisfaction and something more profound. He grinned, clearly pleased with the outcome of his dare. The room was charged with an electric tension, the intimate connection between you and Gojo palpable.

The awkward silence in the room was thick with anticipation as Shoko and Geto watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Shoko leaned back against the couch with a smirk, an unlit cigarette dandled between her lips. “Well, that was something,” she remarked, her voice laced with playful sarcasm. “Gojo’s definitely not holding back tonight.”

Geto, who had been observing with a mix of interest and approval, chuckled softly. “Looks like Satoru’s been keeping a few secrets,” he said, his tone light but edged with a hint of intrigue. “You two make quite the pair.”

You, still catching your breath, felt your cheeks flush at their comments. Gojo’s arm remained around you, his presence both comforting and intensely alluring.

“Are you always this bold during Truth or Dare?” You teased, trying to lighten the mood while still feeling the heat from the kiss. You shoved his arm off of you and scooted back over to your previous spot on the couch.

Gojo’s grin widened as he looked down at you. “Only when it’s worth it,” he said with a confident wink, provoking another annoyed eye roll from you.

As the game continued, Shoko took another long sip from her cup, a teasing glint in her eyes as she leaned back against the couch. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the playful undertones now replaced with a palpable tension. Each revelation that followed seemed to push the boundaries further, testing the limits of comfort and desire.

Shoko swirled her drink lazily, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Alright, Geto,” she began, her voice laced with amusement. “Truth or dare?”

Geto, ever calm and composed, raised an eyebrow at her. “Truth,” he replied smoothly, taking a relaxed sip of his sake. He had been observant the whole night, watching the growing tension between you and Gojo with keen interest.

Shoko didn’t miss a beat. “Tell us your biggest fantasy,” she said, her tone both playful and challenging, the question causing Geto to choke on his sake. The question lingered in the air, drawing everyone's attention.

Geto’s gaze flickered briefly to you and Gojo before he answered, his voice casual yet with an edge of sincerity. “My biggest fantasy?”

He took a moment, his dark eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “I’ve always thought about having control over every sensation someone feels. To see them completely at my mercy, knowing every touch, every breath I take is driving them wild.” His gaze settled on the ground in front of him as he finished, his smile growing. “There’s something irresistible about being in control.”

Shoko chuckled softly, clearly entertained by his response. “Of course, you'd say something like that. You’re so emo, Geto.” She rolled her eyes but didn't seem surprised. There was a flicker of intrigue in her eyes, though.

You shifted in your seat, the charged atmosphere making it harder to sit still. Gojo’s hand, resting dangerously close to your thigh, gave a subtle twitch, reminding you of his proximity.

His fingers brushed lightly against your leg, sending another wave of heat coursing through you. You glanced at him, catching the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

After another round of revealing truths and daring challenges, Geto turned to Gojo with a sly grin. “Truth or Dare, Satoru?” “Dare,” Gojo replied with confidence.

“Have you ever had a wet dream about anyone here?” You practically choked at Geto’s direct question.

Gojo’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous light. “Actually, yes.”

The room fell silent, anticipation hanging in the air. You felt your cheeks flush as you glanced to your left at Gojo, who met your gaze with a knowing smile.

Geto leaned forward, putting a hand on his knee as he took a big sip of sake, clearly intrigued. “Who was it about?”

Gojo’s eyes locked onto yours with an intense, burning gaze. “It was about y/n.”

The confession hit you like a jolt, that burning heat returning to your crotch, making you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to squash the feeling. The revelation made your skin tingle and your heart race.

The room seemed to narrow to just you and Gojo, the weight of his words making your arousal more palpable.

Shoko sighed loudly, “What a shocker.” She said before tilting her cup up to drink the last few drops of sake she had in her cup.

You tried to steady your breathing, but Gojo’s intense gaze and the revelation had stirred a deep, simmering desire within you. The wet heat pooling between your thighs intensified, and you became acutely aware of every touch, every glance.

Gojo’s grin widened as he saw the effect his words had on you. He subtly shifted closer, his hand brushing against yours with deliberate and charged intent.

“Looks like I’ve got your attention,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

You met his gaze, your breath hitching as the atmosphere between you thickened. The desire in his eyes mirrored the heat you felt, and it was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull between you.

As the tension between you and Gojo thickened, his hand began to move with quiet intent, brushing against your thigh with the faintest touch.

It was subtle—almost teasing, but the sensation sent a shiver through your body. He was barely touching you, but the electricity in that light contact made your skin tingle, every nerve hyper-aware of his presence.

You tried to focus on the ongoing conversation, but Gojo's fingertips grazed your thigh again, this time lingering just a moment longer.

The casual way he did it—like it was nothing, just a simple gesture—made it even more intoxicating. Your breath hitched as the warmth in your core began to build, a slow burn that grew with each fleeting touch. You were practically squirming with arousal.

Gojo's gaze flickered toward you, his eyes filled with that same teasing glint—he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Every time his hand brushed against your skin, it became harder to ignore the growing ache between your legs. You shifted in your seat, trying to find some relief, but the friction only heightened your arousal.

Shoko, who had just finished telling a long story about one of the corpses she was working with, chuckled and leaned back against the couch. “I think I’ve had enough for tonight. Time for a smoke and some sleep,” she announced lazily, stretching her arms above her head.

Geto, always the gentleman, gave a nod and stood up, finishing off his drink as well. “I’ll join you. I am getting pretty tired myself.”

You felt a strange mix of relief and anticipation as Shoko and Geto prepared to leave, the prospect of being alone with Gojo sending another thrill through you.

The playful teasing from earlier now seemed to hang in the air like a promise, unspoken but understood.

As Shoko and Geto moved toward the door, Gojo’s hand slid further up your thigh, his fingers brushing dangerously close to the hem of your pyjama shorts. You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing, but the heat between your legs was now a steady throb, a pulse that begged for more of his touch.

“Night, you two,” Shoko called over her shoulder with a knowing smile. She and Geto gave a final wave before stepping out into the cool night air, with Geto following behind her.

As the door clicked shut behind Shoko and Geto, the room seemed to grow quieter. The only sounds now are the soft hum of the air and the pounding of your heart. The atmosphere thickened, the lingering heat of their playful banter giving way to a deeper, more charged tension.

Gojo broke the silence first as he slid his hand off of your thigh, his voice low and teasing, carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us now,” he drawled, the words rolling off his tongue like silk. He leaned back against the couch, his legs spread in a confident but relaxed manner, but the intensity in his eyes behind those rounded shades told a different story.

There was something predatory in the way he looked at you, his gaze tracing the curve of your body with shameless intent.

You swallowed hard, the room feeling smaller, more intimate now that it was just the two of you. The heat that had been simmering between you all night flared to life, and it became impossible to ignore the pull, the desire that had been building.

“I guess it is,” you replied, sounding far steadier than you felt.

Gojo’s smirk widened as he shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours, the subtle contact enough to send a shiver racing down your spine.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, intense and unyielding, as his hand slowly slid toward your thigh, already pressed against his. His fingers barely grazed your skin, a feather-light touch that sent jolts of electricity sparking through your body, igniting every nerve.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” Gojo murmured, his voice dropping lower as his fingers traced lazy circles along the inner part of your thigh, the teasing touch maddeningly gentle. “I’m sure you know that, don’t you?”

You nodded in response, but you felt your breath hitch as his hand slid higher, the heat from his palm searing through the fabric of your shorts. The way his fingers lingered so close to where you wanted him made your skin tingle with anticipation.

It was agonizing, but it was also thrilling—the way he held back, drawing out your need until it became unbearable.

“You’re torturing me, Gojo,” you managed to whisper, your voice betraying the desperation building inside you. The ache between your legs was nearly unbearable now, every touch of his hand sending waves of heat through your body.

Gojo’s grin widened, but the look in his eyes was darker, more intense. “Am I?” he teased, his fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your shorts, grazing the edge of your panties. “I haven’t even started yet.”

The deliberate slowness of his touch was driving you insane, and you could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs as his hand hovered so close, teasing but not quite giving you what you craved.

You had enough, and you went to stand up, to move yourself onto him yourself. But he pushed you back down into your seat with one of his large hands on your abdomen.

“You’re such a tease,” you breathed as you were forced back down–your voice catching as he moved closer to your face, placing a teasing kiss on your neck.

Gojo chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. “I like watching you squirm for me,” he confessed, his hand finally slipping beneath the fabric of your shorts, brushing lightly over your soaked panties.

The contact sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you gasp softly. “It’s almost too easy.”

His touch was maddening, his fingers tracing the outline of your folds through the thin fabric, but not quite giving you the pressure you needed. He placed sloppy kisses trailing down your neck as he toyed with you.

You could feel your pulse quicken, the heat between your legs intensifying with every second. The anticipation was unbearable—you were practically clawing at your cage—you found yourself leaning into his touch, silently begging for more.

“You’re so wet already,” Gojo whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Is this all for me?”

You could barely think, let alone form a coherent response. All you could do was nod and a meek-sounding “mhmm,” your body trembling under his touch as his fingers continued to tease you, slipping beneath your panties now, gliding through your wetness with practiced ease.

“I knew you wanted this,” he murmured against your skin, his lips pressing soft kisses along the curve of your neck. His fingers found your clit, circling it with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made you audibly moan. The sensation was overwhelming, and your body arched into his touch, craving more.

“Tell me what you want,” Gojo whispered, his voice a low, seductive hum in your ear as his fingers worked you with expert precision. His other hand slid up your body, cupping your breast through your shirt, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple.

The combination of sensations—the way his fingers moved against your clit, the heat of his hand on your breast—was almost too much to bear. Your body ached for release, the tension coiling tighter with every passing second.

“I want you, Gojo,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. Every nerve in your body was on fire, your skin tingling with the promise of what was to come. “I want you in me,” you breathed out, almost embarrassed to say it out loud.

Gojo’s smile was wicked as he applied more pressure, his fingers moving faster now, coaxing out those sweet, soft moans from your lips.

“That’s more like it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. His other hand slipped beneath your shirt, finding your bare skin, his touch firm and possessive.

Just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Gojo pulled back slightly, his fingers exiting your gummy walls, leaving you teetering on the brink of release. “Not so fast, y/n,” he murmured, his voice filled with amusement. “I can’t let you cum for me quite yet, I wanted to recreate that dream I had…”

With a swift movement, he lifted you, adjusting your position from sitting beside him to straddling him. As you straddled him, you could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against your soaked pussy, aching to be inside you. His hands on your hips were firm, and his touch sent shivers down your spine.

His smirk softened into something darker, more primal, and without another word, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing, hungry kiss. Your hands tangled in his soft white hair, gripping it tightly as you leaned into the kiss.

Gojo’s lips moved against yours with an insistent hunger, each kiss deepening the tension between you. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling them into a grinding motion as his bulge pressed harder against your core, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

Gojo inhaled sharply, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes now dark with desire. “You feel so good like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hands roamed over your waist, pulling you down onto him. T

The two of you exchanged as your breath came out in short gasps against his mouth, each movement of his hips making you crave more.

You could feel the heat radiating between you, the pulse of your shared desire growing stronger with every subtle grind of your hips.

As you straddled him, he unbuttoned his pants to reveal his giant cock, making your mouth practically water with anticipation. Teasingly slow, he pressed the thick head against your entrance, the heat of him making you dizzy.

He teased you with the tip of his thick cock, pressing it teasingly against your entrance before slowly pushing inside. This evoked a string of moans echoing his name in the now-empty common area.

With a deep groan, he thrust into you, filling and stretching you with each powerful movement. He threw his head back in ecstasy as loud moans escaped his lips, while you felt your walls pulsing around him.

You could see the tension in his muscles as he thrust into you, his face contorted in pleasure with every powerful movement. Gojo’s mouth hangs open in a blissful expression, and your own body is flush with desire and need as you watch him.

The sensation was almost too much to handle, but the intense pleasure kept coming.

Gojo's warm body pressed against yours, your skin slick with sweat and heat as he moves inside you. Every thrust feels like a wave crashing over you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls you closer.

As he pounded into you, the sensation of his skin against yours was electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body. Your hands grasped at his chest as you rode him, feeling the muscles flex and tense with every thrust. And as you tightened around him, you could feel his body respond, moving with even more urgency and need.

Your screams echoed through the room as tears streamed down your face from the overwhelming pleasure of his dominating rhythm. And even though you knew that Shoko and Geto were in their rooms just down the hall, you couldn’t help but keep shouting out his name in pure bliss.

—

You should have known, but due to Gojo being the self-proclaimed ‘strongest,’ you two spent the next few hours fucking in that common room.

Neither of you had gotten much sleep, but somehow, you ended up in his bedroom, tangled in the sheets of his small bed, lying in each other's arms as you cracked a few jokes with each other, laughing until the sun rose.

Gojo's piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, his gaze steady but filled with a raw intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his lips were set in a thin line, the vulnerability in his voice betraying his usual confidence.

"Y/n," he whispered, the words rough but so quiet, like they’d been sitting on his tongue for far too long. "I’ve wanted this... wanted you...for so long."

It was surreal seeing Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, like this—unguarded.

His white hair fell loosely across his forehead, framing his handsome face, and for once, his eyes, usually concealed behind his goofy-looking sunglasses, were fully visible, the intensity of their electric blue drawing you in like gravity.

It was as if the entire universe had quieted, and all that remained was this moment.

“Gojo…” you whispered back, your own voice trembling slightly. Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached up to brush a strand of his hair away from his face. His skin was warm against your fingertips, and his gaze softened at your touch, but the heat in his eyes only grew.

A small smirk finally pulled at the corner of his lips, though it lacked his usual bravado. “Aww, look at you,” he teased lightly, his voice low and husky, but there was a nervous edge to it. “Looks like you care for me too, huh, y/n?”

His hand cradled your face, his long fingers grazing your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his usual arrogance. His thumb brushed lightly over your lips, and you could feel his cursed energy ripple faintly, heightening every sensation, every touch.

“Oh wow, what gave it away?” You teased, a small laugh escaping your lips as you planted a small kiss at the corner of his lips.

"I've dreamed of this," he admitted, his forehead leaning into yours. “Yeah, I know. You told all of us about your wet dream.” You said it with a giggle, a playful tone still in hold of your words.

His breath was warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension between you building, like the moment before lightning strikes.

"Yeah,” He laughed at your quick remark, “There is that. But that’s not what I meant this time. I have dreamed of this—of holding you, of telling you how much you mean to me." His voice dipped lower, laced with emotion.

“Satoru…” you said, your voice trembling as your hands slid up his chest, feeling the solidness of his body beneath his clothes. There was so much strength in him, but right now, all you felt was the vulnerability and desire he rarely showed anyone.

The kiss deepened slowly, not out of hunger, but out of a desperate need for connection, as if he had been holding these feelings back for so long and could finally let them out.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged as he gazed down at you. “Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you?” He said, his voice dripped with desire.

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that was so gentle—so full of emotion, it nearly took your breath away. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by an earnestness that you rarely saw from him.

“You mean everything to me,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. His fingers tangled in your hair, his touch tender. “I need you to know that. I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

And in that moment, with Satoru Gojo’s arms around you, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you and the emotions you had both been too afraid to share for so long.

145 notes · View notes

mytaiyakeylover · 1 year

Text

you taste like roses.

synopsis: your boyfriend seems to be pretty sad lately, so you decide to give him a surprise.

pairing: mikey x gn!reader

warnings: maybe some signs of obsessive behavior, just a tiny bit of angst (not even sure if this counts) and kissing.

word count: 1.3k

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Charcoal eyes blinked sleepily at the sound of knuckles hitting a wooden surface. The blond, however, opted to ignore it in favor of getting some more sleep. A minute or so passed, yet the sounds did not seem to fade. Manjiro huffed, a loud groan escaping his lips. There was no way the boy was going to leave the comfort of his bed to open the door. He had already made that decision when he was forcefully pulled out from his deep slumber.

The knocking did not cease, and Manjiro pressed the pillow harshly against his ears to muffle the sounds. Where was Emma? Oh, right… He had forgotten that she had stayed over at Hinata’s place for a sleepover. For once would he actually prefer she was home, but no, she just had to go and have a sleepover. Not to mention with a person she barely knew! The betrayal…

Realizing that the visitor — or rather, his next victim — would not leave, the blond angrily threw his pillow to the floor as he got out of bed. Stomping towards the front door, he could hear Shinichiro's distant cries, warning him not to do something he might regret. Ignoring his own conscience, the blond swung the door open forcefully, fully prepared to confront and unleash his fury on the person who awaited him.

However, instead of being met by the face of some random dumbass, it was you who were standing before him. Smiling all innocent as if you hadn't just woken him up from his very much needed slumber at god knows what hour. Though, the boy couldn’t bring himself to be mad. You were just being so cute, and he could already feel his mood begin to lift from his previous tantrum.

Before the boy could utter a word, he felt something being shoved against his face. A sweet and tender fragrance entering his nostrils as a type of unknown euphoria spread through his senses. Opening his eyes, charcoal was met by deep and vibrant crimson, an ocean of blood-red roses presented before them.

A smile soon found its way to his face, albeit slightly shaky, cheeks flushed with a soft shade of pink. His hands were trembling just a little bit and he could feel a tornado of butterflies swarming aggressively inside his stomach. “What’s this for?” He asked, voice strained from emotion.

You smiled at him with that endless sweetness that you met everyone with, but was always a bit softer and more affectionate when directed at him. (E/c) eyes conveying nothing but pure adoration and endless devotion that made his heart squeeze whenever eye contact was made between you both.

The answer didn’t come straight away, as you looked down to avoid making further eye contact. A sudden portrayal of shyness that wasn’t present before. Hands fidgeting as you played with the hem of your shirt. Then you faced him again, cheeks coated with a pinkness of your own.

“It’s just that you’ve been kind of down lately and I wanted to cheer you up,” you mumbled quietly, a faint smile grazing your lovely lips.

Oh, how lucky he was to have you by his side.

“Do you not like them?” You asked, eyes betraying a hint of worry and uncertainty. Manjiro shook his head in response to your question. Because how could he not like them? They were a gift from you. Everything that came from you held an air of divinity and otherworldliness. Should anyone believe otherwise, he would make sure to change that.

“No, of course I like them,” he found himself speaking in a rather rushed manner, nervousness getting the best of him. He just couldn’t help it. The giddiness was unbearable. Knowing how much you must have worried about him to come so early in the morning to make his day better. All this, simply done for the sake of his happiness.

“But you didn’t have to come this early (Y/n)-chan,” he said, shaking his head amusedly. “You know how much I hate waking up too early in the morning.”

A fleeting hint of mischief passed your pools of (e/c) as you snickered slightly for some unknown reason. Manjiro arched an eyebrow at that, not quite understanding what was so funny.

“Jiro, it’s 2 in the afternoon,” you said, soft giggles escaping your lips. Cheeks flushing red at your words, the blond hid his face behind the bouquet of roses he held in his grasp. Then he felt your soft, slightly cool fingertips, touching his hands, as you carefully lowered the flowers in his hands to get a look of his face.

Manjiro sighed, coal eyes peering at you with fondness, enjoying the way your soft hands caressed his own, as you were still trying to calm down from the excessive giggling. A sudden idea entered his mind as he continued to stare at your pretty lips, tongue peeking out to wet his dry ones. The boy leaned in, left hand cupping your slightly flushed cheek.

Giggles were suddenly muffled as a soft texture pressed against your exposed lips. You blinked in surprise before relaxing and leaning into his soft touch. The rosy scent coming from the lonely rose petal between your lips adding some sort of dreaminess to the sensation, as your mouths moved in a sensual dance, lips molding together.

The blond boy sighed against the floral leaf as his other hand let go of the bouquet in favor of sneaking his arm around your waist. Thumb drawing absentminded circles on your soft, plush cheek as he pressed your body closer against his own — if that was even possible. He just couldn’t take it. He needed to feel you, to hear you, to smell you. He needed your everything — whatever you were willing to give and beyond.

However, like every human did, you needed air. So your soft, gentle, tender hands began to push his chest. But Manjiro didn’t budge, needing you just as much, if not even more. He felt as if he would suffocate in the next few seconds, were your body to get away from his own.

You panted as the boy finally let go, cheeks now flushed with a deep shade of crimson. Petal falling down from where it had been previously held captive, floating freely in the air until it reached the cold pavement. Vibrant red texture now scrunched and dry-looking in appearance. Manjro’s kisses were always sweet and gentle, but could sometimes turn passionate and demanding — possessive even.

Manjiro stared at you, mind filled with spiraling thoughts of you, you, you… He pressed his forehead against yours, breaths mixing together as neither of you still have managed to calm down from the wonderful kisses you both shared. Coal eyes filled with adoration and endless pinning for you.

“I love you,” he breathed out, admiring the dreamy and slightly dizzy look on your face. The sound faint, but holding so much emotion within it, you feared your knees would give out. Manjiro smirked at that, finding your state truly mesmerizing. A sense of pride enveloping his senses at the fact that he was the one to make you feel this way.

Then you smiled, that usual breathtaking smile that was just so you. And the blond felt his breath catch in his throat, unable to produce anymore thoughts. Mind growing empty as you uttered the words he always found himself craving to hear, despite the many times you’ve already uttered them to each other. The sound faint, like a distant whisper, yet so powerful it shook through his core.

“I love you, too.”

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parkerslatte · 10 months

Text

Overlooked | Part Three

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: mentions of abuse. allusions to sex

Summary: Y/N and Eris have been happily mated for the past month and he has a preposition for her. However, Y/N receives word from the Night Court to attended a meeting.

A/N: Thank you for all the love this mini-series has received! I will be writing a fourth and final part two wrap up the story, so keep an eye out for that soon :)

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

It had been a month since Y/N and Eris had accepted the bond and neither one could be happier. Every moment they spent with one another, they spent that time completing in love with one another. Y/N had never felt so wanted before. She had never been anyone’s priority. Now that she had Eris, he made her his priority.

Over the past month, Eris and her had been experimenting with her newfound power. Not Y/N or Eris has a clue about what it was yet but Y/N was trying to do her best to control it. But that wasn’t what she wanted to focus on. Her main priority was her happiness with Eris.

“Y/N, my love,” Eris said, walking into their shared bedroom.

Y/N lifted her gaze from her book and smiled as Eris sat on the edge of the bed. Y/N placed the book down next to her and shuffled across the bed to Eris, wrapped her arms around him, pressing her chest against his back.

“I missed you,” Y/N muttered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Eris chuckled, reaching up to caress her wrist. “I haven’t been gone long.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t miss you,” Y/N replied, tightening her arms around him.

Eris smiled and tilted his head to the side and captured her lips with his. He smiled into the kiss. Eris never thought he would find his happiness, he always through his whole life would be subjected to the torture from his father. Even when Eris was crowned High Lord, he still wasn’t happy. But now that he had Y/N, he had found his happiness. He had found the part of him that was missing.

“I love you,” Eris mumbled against her lips.

Y/N smiled. “I love you too.”

Y/N held onto Eris’s hand and twisted his rings around his fingers, an act she has picked up since their mating ceremony. The ring on his middle finger was one Y/N had bought for him and was one of Eris’s favourite pieces of jewellery. It wasn’t expensive and it wasn’t anything special but Y/N had gifted it to him so it made it the most special thing he owned.

“I have a preposition for you,” Eris said.

“Yeah?” Y/N said. “And what’s that?”

“What would you say to becoming my High Lady?” Eris said. His voice was quiet as if he were afraid of the answer.

Y/N stilled her movements. “What?”

“I am asking if you would become the High Lady of Autumn,” Eris replied, threading his fingers with hers.

“You can’t be serious, Eris,” said Y/N, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Me as a High Lady? I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a court.”

“I will be by your side,” Eris said, twisting to face her. “My love, I want to change this court for the better. The way my father ruled is not the way I want to rule. I don’t want people to fear me like they did him. I don’t want the workers at the palace to cower at the sight of me.” Eris pressed his forehead against Y/N’s. “With you by my side you can show everyone that this court is changing for the better. You are kind and loyal and hardworking. You are what males and females alike will want to see ruling the Autumn Court by my side.”

Y/N felt tears spring to her eyes. “You really want me as High Lady?”

Eris cupped her cheeks, wiping away the few stray tears that had fallen, a soft smile– one only Y/N ever got to see– on his face. “Of course I do. There is no one else in the world that would make a finer High Lady than you.”

Eris pressed his lips against Y/N’s with so much tenderness that it made her heart explode. Y/N loved him more than she had ever loved anyone and she hated how the Inner Circle had made him out to be some kind of monster.

“I have a preposition for you,” Y/N said, pulling away from his lips.

“And what is that, my love,” Eris questioned, pushing her down onto the bed so he hovered over her.

“Marry me,” Y/N said. “I know that we are already mated but when I was human, I always dreamed of having a large fancy wedding when I grew up. I imagined that I would marry someone I loved with all of my heart. I would wear a golden dress that trailed behind me as I walked. There would be flowers strung from the ceiling and decorating every single table.”

Eris smiled at her. “I will be happy to make your fantasy a reality. You are my mate but I would also take great pride in calling you my wife.”

“And I will be happy to become your High Lady,” Y/N replied and kissed him.

Eris smiled into the kiss and pressed his body down on top of her. Despite the way they both had been feeling for the past month with barely getting out of the bed, all they wanted to be was close to one another. Eris pressed gentle kisses across her jaw and to her neck before laying down, his head rested partially on her chest. Y/N smiled as she threading her fingers in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. Eris sighed in content.

Seeing Eris completely relaxed made Y/N happy. When he had spoken to her about the way he was raised and what his father did to him, Y/N only held him in her arms the way she was currently doing as he finally broke down. Centuries of emotions finally coming to light. Most of the things he told her, he had never told anyone before and Y/N had come to realise why Eris put up the facade he did. It was to protect his family and the people of the court. He sacrificed everything to keep the people he loved safe.

“I love you, my darling,” Eris muttered, his lips brushing against her neck.

Y/N tilted her head to the side, her lips grazing his forehead. “I love you too, my dear. More than I can describe.”

It wasn’t long before the two fell into a peaceful sleep.

***

Another month had passed and Y/N was officially High Lady of Autumn. It still wasn’t news across any other court yet as Y/N wanted to get adjusted before announcing it and of course Eris allowed her as much time as she needed.

A second throne was made and it was even larger than Eris’s. At first Y/N objected but after noticing the details he had put into the throne she began to love it and the two had spent countless hours making love on that throne.

Even now as Y/N began to spread her legs while Eris kneeled down in front of her, they were both prepared for no interruptions. Just as Y/N began to lift her skirt, the doors burst open and a guard ran in. Y/N quickly closed her legs while Eris rolled his eyes.

“What is it?” He demanded. “Myself and the High Lady were busy.”

“A letter came from the Night Court with urgency,” the guard said. “It is addressed to the High Lady.”

“Me?” Y/N said, rising from her throne.

Y/N did not know what to think. It had been eight months since she had last been in the Night Court and since she last saw her sisters. There was a part of Y/N that never thought she would see them again. They hadn’t reached out since she said that she decided to remain in Autumn.

“Thank you,” Y/N said and dismissed the guard as she looked at the letter in her hands.

“What are you thinking?” Eris asked, his hands lightly tugging her forward until she sat on his thigh as he wrapped his arms around her middle.

“I’m thinking, why now? It’s been eight months, why send me a letter now?”

Eris pressed a kiss against her shoulder. “Y/N, even though I do not give a shit about any of them, you should open it. I know you still love and care for your sisters, they might want to reach out to you.”

Y/N sighed and slowly began to open the letter. The writing was the familiar scrawl of her youngest sister. Even though Y/N didn’t like Rhysand, she was grateful that he had taught her how to read and write. Growing up, Y/N hadn’t had the time to teach her because of how much she had been working and when she wasn’t working, she was resting. In between that she had no time to sit down with Feyre and teach her.

Y/N’s eyes scanned over the letter as Eris’s hand caressed her hip, drawing patterns with his thumb. Eris didn’t read the note, respecting Y/N’s privacy. Instead he simply sat back and admired her beauty in the sun coming from the skylight.

“They want to arrange a dinner to discuss,” Y/N said, folding the letter away.

“Discuss what?” Eris questioned.

“The letter didn’t say,” Y/N responded, wrapping an arm around Eris’s shoulder. “Feyre only mentioned that it was urgent.”

“Do you wish to go?” Eris asked. “You don’t need to if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to go,” Y/N said. “It could be important. Someone could be in danger.” Y/N sighed. “But…I want it to happen here.”

“I’m not disagreeing, but why here?”

Y/N shrugged. “I think I just want to prove that I belong here. I want to prove that I am happier here. I am happier with you.”

Eris smiled, kissing her shoulder. “I am glad to hear that.”

Y/N threaded her fingers in his hair before shifting herself so she straddled his waist. “Now, where were we?”

***

The dinner was awkward. Y/N sat at the head of the table and Eris sat to her left, opposite Rhysand. Everything was made even more uncomfortable when Rhysand commented on why Eris was not sitting at the end of the table since he valued all of the power he had gained over the court since he became High Lord. Eris only growled at him. Y/N had told him to play nice and that was as nice as he could get.

“I am just going to come out and ask,” Y/N spoke up. “Why did you want to meet? It’s been eight months.”

No one responded for a while, only the sound of knives and forks scratched on plates. It was a sound Y/N hated.

“We were planning for a way to get you back,” Feyre finally spoke up.

“Get me back?” Y/N questioned.

“You were taken by Autumn–”

“I was not taken,” Y/N cut her brother-in-law off. “I stayed here willingly.”

Rhysand scoffed. “You can’t expect us to believe that you would willingly stay here, Y/N. We have told you what Eris is like.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Eris’s grip tighten on his cutlery. Beneath the table she brushed her foot against his leg as a sign of comfort. His grip slackened on the utensils.

“Yes, you did tell me what Eris was like,” Y/N replied. “You told me how cruel and awful he was. You made him out to be some kind of monster incapable of love.”

“Which he is–”

“He’s the furthest thing from that,” Y/N defended her mate. “He is protective, he listens and he cares for me. And I care for him, so whatever you say against him, you say against me, Rhysand.”

The rest of the Inner Circle was silent as Y/N surveyed them. Nothing short of the High Lady she had grown into the past few weeks.

“Just cut the bullshit, Y/N,” Cassian exclaimed, letting hit cutlery fall to his plate. “You can’t like it here.”

“Actually, I’ve grown quite fond of it,” Y/N replied, biting the carrot from her fork, sending Cassian a smile. “It’s been a real home for me, more than Velaris ever was.”

Feyre met Y/N’s gaze and silently pleaded with her. Y/N’s gaze softened as she looked at her youngest sister. Her and Feyre had always been close but ever since she was first taken by Tamlin, they had grown apart.

“If that is all you wished to discuss, I must ask you all to leave,” said Y/N, standing to her feet.

“You don’t have the power to order us out, Y/N,” Rhysand remarked.

“You will find she does,” Eris spoke up for the first time since the dinner started. “Since she is the High Lady of Autumn, she has the power to forcibly remove you all from our court.”

Everyone looked shocked, even Azriel whose face remained stoic throughout the whole discussion.

“High Lady?” Nesta questioned. “You are the High Lady of Autumn?”

“Indeed I am,” Y/N responded. “And as High Lady I order you all to leave immediately– except my sisters. There is something I wish to discuss with them in private.”

“Whatever you say to them, you can say in front of all of us,” Rhysand growled.

“Watch the way you speak to her, Rhysand,” Eris said, his voice calm but dangerous.

“It is a family discussion,” Y/N said. “And as far as I’m aware, none of you are my family. If you were, you would have acted like it.”

Y/N swiftly walked around the table. “Feyre, Nesta, Elain, if you wish to have the discussion I mentioned, follow me. If not, leave and don’t try to contact me again.”

There was silence as Y/N left the room, her heart falling the slightest amount at the lack of movement but when she heard three chairs scrape across the floor she smiled. Her three younger sisters followed her out of the door and down the hallway. They were silent as Y/N opened the door to her former bedroom allowing her sisters to step in before her.

As they stepped in, they looked around for anything that could be a danger but they were distracted by the large windows leading to a small balcony that had the most beautiful view of the court. Y/N smiled at her sister's stunned faces.

“Please make yourselves comfortable,” Y/N said, gesturing to a small seating area.

Her sisters sat down on the plush seats, rigid in their posture. Y/N sat down with them, kicking off her shoes and bringing her feet to rest under her. Feyre was the only one who relaxed her posture.

“So,” Elain spoke up. “This is where you live.”

“Yes it is,” Y/N said with a soft smile. “It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?”

Elain looked out of the window once more, her gaze taking in the sight. “It is,” she finally agreed. “I see why you like it here.”

Nesta scoffed. “Come on, Elain. We all know the real reason is because of Eris.”

Y/N’s gaze shifted to Nesta. “And why do you assume that?”

“He has clearly bewitched you,” Nesta accused. “Why else would you be with him?”

“Because he is my mate,” Y/N revealed. “And I am in love with him, and he is with me.”

Her three sisters stiffened, eyes wide.

“He’s your mate?” Feyre questioned.

“Yes,” Y/N replied. “And before you send any more accusations his way, Nesta, You must know that he didn’t force me. In fact he was the one who waited until I accepted it. He was even perfectly content if I decided to reject it. Over the six months I was here, I began to fall in love with him and it wasn’t just the bond.”

“You three do not see what I see because you see him through a filtered lens,” Y/N continued. “You think you know Eris, but none of you do. You believe what you hear and how he presents himself. But you also must understand that the reason he was cold and cruel was to protect his family from the abuse of his father. He put a facade for everyone to see.” Y/N focused her gaze on her youngest sister. “Sound familiar, Feyre? Seems like our mates are a lot more alike than you think.”

Feyre was silent, although Y/N could tell she wanted to come to the defence of her mate.

“Now, the reason why I asked you three here was to talk to you without Rhysand cutting me off every second,” Y/N said. “All I ask you is why?”

“Why?” Nesta questioned. “Why, what?”

“Why did none of you care?” Y/N asked. “Why did none of you come to check on me after the war? Why did you all pretend I didn’t even exist when all I did for my whole life was care for each of you?”

“Of course we cared, Y/N,” Elain replied, her voice quiet. “We love you.”

“So you’ve told me,” Y/N said, her voice cold. “But I do have a hard time believing it. Sisters are meant to care for one another and love one another unconditionally. That is all I have done for each of you. I am the eldest and I felt a need to protect all of you, even though I know you each are so strong and perfectly capable of protecting yourselves.”

Tears shone in Feyre and Elain’s eyes while Nesta simply looked down at her hands. Y/N let out a breath.

“I do love you three but you need to stop letting your mates and any relationship you have cloud your judgement of others,” Y/N said. “Starting with Eris. With all he’s been through, he doesn’t deserve it. He deserved so much love and he deserves to be accepted.”

“Our wedding takes place in one month from today,” Y/N said. “You are all invited. If you don’t show up, I will know that you don’t wish to fix our relationship and I will happily never see any of you again unless completely necessary. If you do show up, I will assume that you want to work on fixing our relationship.”

Y/N’s voice was steady but she had to fight to keep it steady. She let out a quiet sigh and rose to her feet. “Now, we will return to the dining room. You can discuss anything that I have spoken about with the rest of the Inner Circle.”

“Even what you mentioned about Eris?” Feyre asked.

Y/N nodded. “Even that. He and I had a talk before you all arrived.”

Y/N swiftly turned on her heel and exited the bedroom, her sisters slowly rising and following behind her. It took no time at all to return to the dining room. What Y/N hadn’t expected was Rhysand to be at Eris’s throat, bearing his teeth.

“Rhysand!” Y/N spoke, her voice loud and commanding.“Get away from my mate.”

At the revelation of the two being mates, everyone stilled but Y/N simply ignored them. “If you want to keep the Autumn Court as an alliance, I suggest you take a step back from Eris.”

Eris watched her, fondness evident on his face. He had never seen her take charge of a room before and he enjoyed it, even if he had the High Lord of the Night Court’s forearm pressed against his throat.

“Rhys,” Feyre’s voice echoed. “Step away.”

The corner of Y/N’s lips tugged at Feyre’s command to her mate. Rhysand took a step back from Eris and he instantly pressed his hand against his neck where Rhyand’s forearm resided. Y/N stepped over to him.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, the command in her voice gone in an instant. Instead it was replaced by a tenderness that made Eris weak at the knees.

“I’m okay,” Eris replied, slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her to his side.

Eris looked around at the Inner Circle and cleared his throat. “I will pretend that little spat didn’t happen. I believe this dinner is over.”

“But—” Cassian piped up.

“This dinner is over,” Eris cut him off. “You may show yourselves out, or if that is putting too much trust in all of you, I will happily escort you out myself.”

“We can leave ourselves,” Elain spoke up, looking directly at Y/N. “We have matters to discuss in private.”

Elain looked toward Feyre and Nesta and the three sisters began to leave the room, the rest of the Inner Circle following behind them, not before shooting a glare Eris’s way.

Y/N held her breath as they inched closer and closer to the door. Once they left the door shut with a slam, Y/N let out a breath and leaned into Eris. His grip on her waist tightened as he wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her close to his chest.

“You were incredible, my love,” said Eris, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “The most perfect High Lady.”

Y/N wrapped her arms round his torso, burying her head into his chest. In Eris’s arms she felt safe and that nothing could harm her. It was her own personal bubble that no one could break.

“I asked my sisters to the wedding,” Y/N said, her voice slightly muffled by Eris’s jacket. “I gave them the two options we spoke about.”

Eris’s fingers tangled in her hair. “And what did they say?”

“Nothing,” Y/N replied. “They said absolutely nothing.”

Eris tilted his head down so his lips brushed her forehead. “That doesn’t mean that they won’t show up. There is still a possibility.”

Y/N sighed and pulled away from Eris, slumping against the floor, not bothering to sit in one of the pushed out chairs from the table. “I know that there is a possibility but there is also the huge possibility that they don’t show up. They are my sister’s. They should love me.”

“They do,” said Eris, sliding down to the floor to sit next to her. “And even if they don’t, you don’t need them. You have so many here that love you. The guards love you. The servants love you. Most males, females and children of the Autumn Court love you. They love your compassion, your kindness, your protectiveness, your willingness to right all of the wrongs my father committed. You have plenty of people who love and adore you, even if you don’t see it.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she launched herself into Eris’s arms. “I love you so much.”

Eris squeezed her back, closing his eyes. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Y/N moved so her knees rested on either side of his thighs. The cold marble floor wasn’t very comfortable but she needed to be closer to Eris and to hold him within her arms. “You deserve me, Eris. You are the one who has made me feel wanted and important. You are the one who endured centuries of abuse from your own father just to protect those you love. You may have built up walls and never let people see the real you, but I do and I love you. I love every part of you.”

Eris buried his head into Y/N’s shoulder, wrapping his strong arms around her middle. “We deserve each other.”

“We do,” Y/N replied, moving back to kiss his lips.

Eris admired how beautiful she looked. Her hair had tumbled down from her elegant updo but as it fell in waves around her, she looked angelic. She looked surreal. She was the most beautiful female he had ever seen.

Y/N rested her forehead against his, simply savouring the closeness. “I must ask you though, what caused Rhysand to be at your throat?”

Eris chuckled. “You left and the conversation turned dreadfully boring so I needed to liven it up somehow.”

Y/N laughed and pressed her lips against his in a short and sweet kiss. “You really cannot help yourself.”

Eris simply shrugged before pulling her back until she hovered over him as he laid on his back. One hand cupped the back of her neck, bringing her lips down so they hovered only centimetres from his.

“Y/N Vanserra,” Eris mused. “I like the sound of that.”

“What about Eris Archeron?” Y/N replied. “I like the sound of that.”

Eris chuckled. “I don’t care if you take my name or I take yours. All I care about is that I get to call you my wife.”

“And I get to call you my husband,” Y/N said, smiling brightly.

Eris stroked her cheek before connecting their lips, praying that no one walked into the dining room.

#eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris acotar

969 notes · View notes

redroomreflections · 5 days

Text

Hair Care

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Request: Bestie I'll always come with requests :D how about in the early TLH days with Nat asking r to teach her how to do R's hair after maybe R stayed with her at the compound for the first time? Very soft and gentle Nat 💕

The Loud House Universe

It was quiet at the compound, the kind of stillness that only came late at night when everyone had retreated to their rooms and the hum of the facility faded into the background. You sat cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, your fingers working through your hair in steady, practiced motions. You had come to stay with Natasha for the first time, and though the unfamiliarity of the compound felt overwhelming at times, moments like this — peaceful and soft — made it feel like home.

It's a ritual you've known all your life - the detangling, the sectioning, the careful twisting. Something was grounding about it that reminded you of home and your mother spending her weeknights doing this very process. You didn't plan on needing to do your hair at Natasha's place. You also didn't plan on the hours of lovemaking that would inevitably cause this very process right here.

A smile graced your face as you remembered the feel of her lips pressed against your own.

Natasha leaned against the doorway, her eyes never leaving yours. She had always admired how you carried yourself — the quiet confidence, the grace that came so naturally. But there was something about watching you care for your hair that felt… sacred. Each curl you tenderly worked through, each product you applied with intention, it all felt like a ritual, a language she didn’t yet understand but wanted to learn. She stood there, captivated, unsure of how to ask the questions forming in her mind.

This was Natasha’s first time with someone so different from herself, and it made her feel uncharacteristically unsure. It wasn’t just your hair — though that alone fascinated her — it was everything about you. The way you navigated the world with a different kind of strength, a resilience born from experiences she’d never had to face. There was an authenticity about you that felt grounding, in contrast to the many layers of disguise and deception she’d worn her entire life.

When Natasha allowed herself to date in the past, it was always fleeting. Simple flings, a few weeks here, a few months there. Nothing lasting, nothing too personal. Her life as a spy required distance, a self-imposed detachment. Getting close to someone had always felt like a risk she couldn’t afford. But this was different.

With you, it wasn’t about quick connections or keeping things easy. It was about learning, about appreciating the parts of you that felt foreign to her but so integral to who you were. The way you cared for your hair, and your skin, the love you put into the routines that kept you grounded — it was all new to her. Natasha’s curiosity was piqued, not just out of habit or professional interest, but because she genuinely wanted to understand. She wanted to know every part of you, even the parts that had nothing to do with her.

Her fingers twitched at her sides as she wondered how to ask. It wasn’t a simple question of wanting to learn how to braid or twist; it was about wanting to be closer, to understand this beautiful part of your life she hadn’t experienced before.

You looked up, meeting her eyes and smiling softly. She was always beautiful, but there was something about the way her green eyes looked in this moment, a tenderness to her gaze you hadn't seen before. It took your breath away.

You could feel her restlessness from the few feet away and you let out a small laugh. "You can help, you know." You reached out to her, and grabbed the comb from the bed to pass to her.

"I don't want to mess it up," Natasha said unsurely.

"Well, you didn't think about that when you were knocking my head against the headboard," You pointed out.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at her lips. She stepped forward, taking the comb. "You can guide me," she suggested, settling behind you. She rested her hands on your shoulders, giving a light squeeze before trailing them down the length of your arms.

"What should I do?" she asked.

"Just keep going. Section out a little bit more and pull back," you instructed, pointing to the area where she should begin.

"Like this?" she asked, pulling gently on a section of hair.

"Yeah, and then take the comb, and run it through like this," you guided her hand with yours, showing her the motion.

Natasha smiled as she watched her hands work, focused intently on her task. This felt different than what she had done with others. In the past, her sexual exploits were mostly based in a shared understanding — a desire to fuck and not much else. But this was different. With you, everything felt heightened, each touch and look more significant than it ever had before. Natasha didn't want to hurt you, or disappoint you. She wanted to learn, to experience this with you in the same way you'd experienced everything with her.

"A braid would be nice," You offered.

"Okay," Natasha replied, following your instructions carefully.

You hummed, and closed your eyes as she worked, relishing the feel of her nimble fingers twisting through your hair.

Natasha finished, wrapping an elastic around the end of your braid.

"I know you have questions," You spoke aloud.

"How do you know?"

"It's written all over your face."

Natasha leaned forward, her chest brushing against your shoulders. She wrapped her arms around your midsection, kissing the exposed skin of your neck.

"Is this what you did when you were younger?"

You nodded.

"You're beautiful," she breathed against your neck. "All of you."

"Thank you," You murmured. "Of course back then my mom took care of it." You informed her. "She did my hair, and we watched movies."

"Tell me about them," Natasha encouraged, settling back down and wrapping her arms around your waist again.

"They were funny," You said. "Mostly things she wouldn't allow me to watch on my own. That way we could have open discussions about certain things. My favorite was Waiting to Exhale. I was attracted to Angela Bassett."

"Hmm, she's a beautiful woman," Natasha mused.

"Yeah," You said. "Haircare days weren't always my favorite but with three siblings it was always a way for me to spend time with her."

Natasha gave a gentle squeeze to your hips, encouraging you to continue.

"She was never afraid to allow me to try different hair colors, or cuts, or styles," You explained. "I went through a straightening phase in early high school. She quickly put a stop to that."

Natasha smiled. "Sounds like you two had a lot of fun together."

"We did."

Natasha kissed the back of your neck, holding her lips against your skin for a moment before pulling away.

"I want my daughters to feel the same pride in their hair and their skin," You said softly. Your relationship is still too new to talk about long-term plans together but, you'd like to think that she would be there too. "If that ever comes about."

Natasha hummed. "You're going to be a great mother."

You smiled. "I hope so," You shrug. "What's your favorite hairstyle of mine?"

"Hmm," Natasha thought for a second."I like the braids you get. The single ones in your hair what did you call them?"

"Box braids," You laughed.

"Yes! They suit you." She nodded. "I like you natural too."

"I'll have to let my hair breathe for a little," You said. "Though it's a protective style getting braids back to back can be tension-heavy."

"Protective style?"

"Yeah," You said. "You know... a hairstyle that doesn't require a lot of maintenance, or that protects the hair."

"Gotcha," Natasha nodded.

"So," You leaned back into her. "Do you want me to teach you how to care for it?"

"I would love that," She grinned.

"Okay," You nodded and then looked down at your braid.

"I love it when you share things about yourself," She said. "Especially things that mean so much to you. And, I liked this, even though I didn't know what I was doing."

You turned and looked back at her, kissing her cheek. "I love you, Nat."

Natasha smiled, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "I love you, too."

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you

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sorcerous-caress · 11 months

Note

Okay as great as crybaby!tav is we really glossed over the potential of mommy!Tav. I may be a smidge bias because that’s a lot like my tav, as she’s so damn determined to take care of her friends and was a baker before she was an adventurer so she’s constantly just doting on the companions offering them pastries. It’s a little self indulgent but My Tav has a little quirk that she grew up food insecure and just absolutely refuses to eat until she knows everyone else has eaten because she can’t bear the thought of any of her friends potentially going hungry. She’s normally very submissive and sweetly to all of them but no amount of begging, discipline or concern will break her because she just cares so damn much. Could you write the dom mom squad™️ reacting too something like that, who tries to comfort them? Who is incensed that she doesn’t believe they can provide? Who gets so hung up on the fact she’s being stubborn they forget the original issue?

A submissive mommy who can cook and give good hugs will literally fix 90% of the gang here, unironiclly.

Reacting to a very motherly Reader

[Bg3 women, fluff, dom mommies, afab!reader, fem pronouns, sub!reader ]

Karlach would relish in your dotting.

During her life in the hells, she was both touch starved and food starved for so long. You being there to encourage her with the pep talks, headpats, and occasional pie is everything she has ever dreamed of and more.

As much as she wants to be the one to take care of you, she can't help but let relish in you fussing over her. The coddling, the comfort, and the constant attention are slowly frying her brain from how happy she is.

Did she die and go to heaven?

She becomes very protective of you, never lets you carry heavy stuff, and always asks if you need her to bring you ingredients or something during her errand runs. No, no, you don't have to tire your pretty little legs. Just stay in camp all sweet and pretty while she goes out and brings you everything you need.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think she's subconsciously treating you like her stay at home wife.

She really likes hovering around while you cook, watching you work attentively and sometimes begging for a sample taste with her puppy eyes.

And yes you being the one feeding her those samples is very important, it enhances the taste a lot.

It might take her a while to notice the fact that you were always the last one to eat. Or how you immediately offered your plate if someone else wanted seconds.

She thinks it's very sweet at first but slowly grows more and more concerned at your well-being.

I mean, if she had to, she would sit on your lap to prevent you from getting up as she hands you a plate of food. Your stern talk will just make her feel guilty and sad but she'd refuse to let you get up.

As much as she loves nothing more than to obey her mommy, sometimes she also needs to take care of her mommy like she takes care of her.

Minthara would admire your ways.

Tenderness and love were never words that anyone in her culture used to describe a mother, an ilhar. No, they tend to fall more on the brutal and disciplinary side.

An ilhar meant authority, control, and order. To defy her is to commit a sin. To show weakness in front of her is even worse.

She is reminded by that cultural difference whenever someone describes you as motherly.

The only thing you had in common with the matrons of the underdark was that underlying strength. That unbreakable will hidden so deep inside you, the urge to survive at any cost and defend your subordinates. She admired it greatly.

You were very strong deep down, strong to be truly worthy of the description of motherly. That kind of strength that the males will never understand, the kind of strength that nurtured even more strength.

So when a person like you showered her in hugs, kisses, and even brushed and styled her hair for her from time to time, how could she ever be ungrateful and say no?

You were generous and kind even when you had no need to be, you were selfless to a concerning degree.

She had to put a stop to that.

Minthara respects you too much to use any of the punishments or disciplinary ways that her matrons taught her. She will talk to you like an equal because that's what she sees you as.

She will be very patient with you. Stopping you when your self sacrifices become too much for your health to bear, Reminding you that you also require as much food and rest as the rest of them.

She'll teach you to relay on her slowly, as gentle as she possibly can be. Which...isn't very gentle, honestly, but she is genuinely trying her best.

Jaheira feels like you complete her.

As an actual mother to so many children, Jaheira still never truly grasped the whole motherly vibe people keep preaching about. Her kids are safe, fed, cleaned, and trained in combat. Isn't that enough?

So what it if she was absent on missions a lot, need I remind you that her line of work concers the safety of the whole world? What kind of mother would she be if she let the whole world, which included her kids, end just because she picked to stay at home and colour with her youngest.

She knows it doesn't excuse it. Give her a break. She is at the end of her age and hasn't had someone by her side since in a long while.

That's why when you suddenly appear in her life with all of the qualities she was severely lacking in, she almost thinks it's too good to be true.

...you almost remind her of a certain someone she lost long ago. You're just as soft and caring to others. Ironically enough people also underestimate a lot because of your kindness too.

She is drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Jaheira can't help it. You shine with radiance, and she hasn't felt warmth in so long.

The first few days she brings her kids home-cooked meals, they immediately hold a knife to her throat as they demand this doppelganger tell them where their real mother is.

But after some very awkward conversations, and having to bring you into her house as actual proof. They realised that their mother's stone heart can still beat after all apparently.

Shadowheart tries to play it cool, fails.

She has an edgy mysterious aura she needs to keep, and you're making it very hard for her. How is she supposed to be this dark, cool cleric of Shar when you keep gifting her these hand-knitted pastel sweaters with the most loving look in your eyes.

Of course she will wear them, she isn't heartless.

She's really trying not to show how touched she is when you look for her during dinner at camp to make sure she got her plate. She can't help the blush on her ears when you wipe some food from the corner of her mouth.

She's mean to people on your behalf when they're rude to you or try to take advantage of your submissiveness. Actually she is just mean to people in general if she doesn't like the way they look at you.

Loves taking naps on your lap, absolutely adores when you play with her hair or braid it. Your thighs are the perfect pillows for her to rest her head on and just forget about the outside world and her mission for a while.

She saves the best wine she finds to share it with you later, or the best sweets or fancy jucies if you don't drink. She had to defend her stash from both Gale and Wyll wandering hands, absolutely refusing all of their offers or begging for some of that fancy cheese or that perfectly aged wine bottle.

You're the only person she ever shares it with. She doesn't even want anything in return. She just loves seeing you happy and relaxed every once in a while. You always take care of them, so it's about time that someone takes care of you too.

Laezel has killed people for disrespecting you.

And she'll do it fucking again. These worms forgot their place. She doesn't even care how little their offence is, just efficiently ending their miserable life.

Why do you have a look of disappointment on your face? She did them a favour. She even made it painless and quick to compromise for your feelings.

Chk. Your softness will be the end of you. Be grateful that she is here to prevent that from ever happening.

You threaten not to take her with you on errand runs anymore if she doesn't put her sword away? You really think you can survive without her?

...okay yeah actually you can. You make a really valid point.

If it was anyone else she'd have taken that request as an insult on her honor, but since it's you...

Fine. She will listen for now.

And maybe if you keep making more of those faerun dishes, she will find it easier to listen to you. Especially the apple pie ones.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

Pretty like the wind

a/n Part one! this was born last night after a had a little cry over everything that's been going on lately. Oh, and you are free to listen to black friday by tom odell. ✨

was inspired by a request but I don't want to spoil anything so I won't answer the ask just yet.

warning: past trauma, implied violence.

Next chapter

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Love was one thing Azriel had dreamed about. Longed for. He had longed for it since he was born. He had known his mother's kind hands. Had felt a touch of tenderness, but those memories had been swept away. Buried. Shoved deep within him. Been burned out of him. Azriel had welcomed the mask of steel. Had wanted nothing more than to hide behind the tight, cold shield.

He had grown tired of being the victim. Of being shoved around. He wanted to be the one people ran from. He wanted to possess that power. To be someone people dreaded. To never fall again. To never be the one to yield. So, he welcomed the power the brotherhood with Rhys and Cassian brought him. He found strength in his brothers. They helped him up until Azriel was strong enough to stand on his own two feet.

Azriel had learned to live with the pain. He endured it. Let the scars bleed out. Let them scab over. He knew they would never truly fade. Mother, his hands were enough of a reminder of that. But they had settled enough. Settled enough for Azriel to want to live. He had found purpose in Rhys's court. Rhys had given him that. And Azriel was thankful for that in more than one way.

But the clenched grip of Amarantha had messed it all up. Had put so many things in motion. Had plucked out so many souls. Had woven so many lives. Had brought so much heartbreak. So much trauma and sleepless nights. That same helplessness. Yet it also brought Feyre to Rhys. It had brought Nesta to Cassian. But left Azriel empty-handed.

And the spymaster had observed them all. He had spent countless hours watching the love blossom right in front of him. He had caught onto the ways his brothers looked at their lovers. There was always something special about a gaze like that. It was unmistakable. So loud. Drenched with so many emotions, sometimes unnoticeable for the lovers but so clear for the ones who looked from the side.

That's when Azriel had grown restless. Careless. Desperate. He was ready to step on the values he treasured. The laws he believed in. He went as far as reaching for an already mated female. She was lost. Everyone should have sensed that. The world. The obligations they brought frightened her. And Azriel took advantage of that. He had told himself that this was right. That had to be. Three sisters for three brothers. But even with Elain wrapped up in his arms, the roaring didn't ease. But Azriel refused to let go.

Refused until Rhys stepped in. Until the high lord had done something he vowed to never do, Rhys forced Azriel to his knees with his magic. The spymaster could still hear the roaring tone, "I warned you. This thing you are doing is out of order. Elain is a mated woman, Azriel". Oh, how he had fought. How Azriel had said it over and over, the world he had made himself believe in. Three sisters for three brothers. Just that didn't reach Rhys, and when Azriel woke up in an unknown room, he knew the punishment he was to face was like no other.

Rhys had knocked politely on your mental shield that night. It was way too late. But you cracked the locks open. "Can I winnow to the sanctuary?", it was such a simple question. Yet it left you frowning. The lines on your face only deepened when you saw your high lord, followed by a male who held another unconscious body.

"I apologize for the inconvenience", Rhys stated. He was angry. Tired? You couldn't pinpoint the emotion. Drained - that seemed the most fitting. "What's... Is your soldier in need of healing?", you questioned calmly, already moving to roll up your sleeves. "In some ways...", Rhys breathed, and that's how you came to know the story of the man who had lost himself in search of love. The man who had crumbled under his demons. Male Rhys had sent to the oldest sanctuary in the Velaris Mountains. In hopes of mending the broken pieces.

Azriel did not leave his room after he regained consciousness. He was stripped of his daggers. The gift to winnow was without doubt taken away by Rhys himself. Oh, how much he had cursed his brother in the first days. He roared as he threw furniture around the small room. He growled loudly when they were all replaced by magic right in front of him. Oh, Azriel imagined how much pleasure Rhys was having watching this.

You had chosen to seek him out on his fifth day here. You had come every day, but the sheer sounds of distraction from within made you halt every time. Today, it all seemed a lot quieter. Too quiet, even. You knocked a couple of times. Not surprised when you didn't get the answer. You knew that the sanctuary provided him with food and water, but you didn't want him to feel like a prisoner.

He looked rough. You doubted he had bathed in the days he had been here. The air inside was thick. He had drowned out the light almost completely with his shadows. They swarmed around him frantically. You frowned at the harsh light that threatened to cave in on his darkness. Quickly moving your wrist, you drew back the sharp rays of light. The room dimmed.

"Hey", you breathed out quietly, "I wanted...", but the wave of darkness poured towards you, pushing you against the wall, making you gasp. "Where am I?", Azriel didn't sound human-like. An animal ridden with anger. "You're safe...", you breathed out. "That's not what I asked you!", Azriel roared. His fist shook right in front of you. "What will you do, spymaster, hit me?", you moved to push off the wall slightly. "You might be angry. The hell itself might be burning inside you for all I care", you said, opening your palms and waving threads of light through them. "But you were brought here for a reason, and you can cry like a little boy, but you will not raise a hand against any breathing creature that lives beneath this roof", your wild eyes met his. A battle of power deep-rooted. You weren't too surprised when a roar left Azriel's mouth. Thick clouds of darkness forming. You just worked faster. Suppressing it. Capturing it in the smoothness of warmth. Taking Azriel along with it. Even if that was the last thing you wanted to do,

"You will have to accept my apologies", Rhys had his head in his hands after you had been summoned into his office. He felt guilty; you couldn't mistake that emotion even if you wanted to. "Wipe that thought away", you said quietly, "He picked a fight with me. Your intervening would have caused more damage". Rhys let out a sigh. "I don't recognize him, Y/N.", the high lord shook his head, "I look at him. I look through his head, and... I don't see the same male I knew for centuries".

You made your way towards the window. "Do you remember the night you came to me after you realized that Feyre was your mate?" The question had made the high lord stiffen. He was grateful that you chose the word came instead of crawl. "Your heart was desperate, and your mind was full of roaring demons," you said as you stepped closer to the windowsill. "So time", Rhys muttered. You nodded, "Even the most broken souls find themselves eventually. We can guide them to it". Rhys nodded mostly to himself; he had so many things he still wanted to say to you and ask, but when he lifted his head, you were no longer there.

Azriel had no recollection of how he had gotten into bed. He had no recollection of opening the window ever so slightly. The cold wind soothed him. Easing the throbbing all over his body. His mind dragged out fragments of you. They were scattered and dim. But his skin still bore the feeling of light. He moved to sit up, frowning as a piece of paper fell to the floor. The spymaster reached for it instantly. "I'll forgive you for the outburst last night, but you're on kitchen duties for the rest of the month. I hope I won't have to drag you out myself", it read. Azriel stared at it. Gaped. Let the anger simmer. He crumpled the paper and threw it towards the fire, but one of his shadows caught it in time. Straightening it out before turning it back to Azriel. "You don't get to pick sides", Azriel snarled, but the shadows only waved the white paper stronger. "I could easily just make you vanish, you know?", the spymaster grumbled, but he still reached for the pile of clean clothes. He went as far as washing his face before he stepped out.

Only midway down the corridor did Azriel realize that he had no idea where he was going. And suddenly, a wave of panic washed over him. Was he even allowed to walk freely? Rhys had banished him; Mother only knew to what end. He had no idea where he was. He might as well have been cast to another dimension. The sound of small feet hitting the floor made Azriel twirl around.

Two babies, not older than five, ran towards him. Azriel waited for them to halt. Frighten and run away. But they moved towards him, squealing, clearly lost in whatever game they were playing. They dove under Azriel's wings, moving past him. Sprinting down the hall. Azriel's feet started moving without him even realizing it. He followed the laughter and happy shrieks.

He walked right until he was met with a big open space. The glass dome was right up above it. Stone columns supported it. Azriel moved quietly. He used the dim sides to hide himself. The place looked like a commune area. The sound of singing increased. Rounding the corner, Azriel moved to stand in the arch of two columns. Breath hitched in his throat as he saw Fea and Illyrian children dancing in circles. A handful of females were seated all around. He scanned the room.

His gaze halted. There, in the middle of one of the circles the children formed, stood you. Pieces of last night flashed in front of Azriel's eyes. The way he had leaped at you. The way you brought on the light. How you had wrapped him up in the comfort of it. He watched as you spun around as well. The white dress you wore twirled with you. He was convinced that you were glowing as you smiled at every little happy face that watched you.

You sang with them all, and Azriel found himself leaning against the column. He was oddly captivated by the view in front of him. A handful of tinny wings messily clapped as the younglings kicked off from the ground. Trying to soar into the air. Azriel watched them. Some old, deep wounds throbbed within his chest. He lowered his gaze for the moment, trying to suppress it. To shove it back deeper into himself.

But then an urge to lift his gaze back up struck him. Azriel found the most beautiful set of eyes looking right back at him. He wasn't sure how you had spotted him in the shadows, but you did. He held your gaze firmly. He thought about frowning. Snarling even for a second. But you had smiled up at him. Had smiled so brightly that Azriel felt some slither of warmth trying to spark to life within his chest. You nodded your head slowly at him, and Azriel found himself returning the gesture. Right as a warm feeling settled deep within his cold bones.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar x reader

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gomu-fer · 5 months

Text

Wedding bells

Sanji x gardener!reader

This is an amazing request from @secretlife028

Warnings: from my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone, fem reader in mind but no pronouns used, WCI spoilers? But very vague, angst to fluff, good ending

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: In which you say I love you to Sanji in the worst scenario

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

You were in love with Sanji

That was something clear for everyone that had spent time with both of you. Your eyes following his mastered hands as he chopped the ingredients for dinner, the soft glances and sweet thank you’s you’ll grace the cook with whenever he offered you his delicious meals, your presence after midnight as he cleaned the kitchen a reminder of your unspoken love and affection.

You never thought about whether he would love you the same, the love you gave away was honest and non refundable. You loved because you wanted to

Something the cook was not used to, he was the kind of person to melt at any bit of attention, sign of affection or even acknowledgement, but he allowed himself to be loved by you

But that felt like a lifetime ago. Simpler times where you’ll wake up in the Going Merry, your crew mates laughter in the distance and the smell of fresh breakfast in the morning.

Now here you stand, in front of the man you had wrapped your heart in a bow for, leaving

“Why are you doing this?” You looked at Sanji who was just a feet away but felt like he had left already, his eyes wouldn’t meet yours

“That doesn’t concern you” your heart clenched once more at the stern voice leaving his mouth, that tender tone he once spoke to you with long gone, like a hazy memory

Vines grew on the cooks legs, like you were begging for him to stay and comeback to himself, holding him in place before you, breath shaky like you were about to break

“Sanji speak to me!” You were making this awfully difficult for him, he knew you’ll try and fight but didn’t expect you to be this fierce. Your voice echoed trough his thoughts like a haunting lullaby trying to wake him up from this awful nightmare

“There’s nothing left to say y/n” liar, Sanjis heart held so much unspoken feelings, words, intentions, so much love for you. You frantically took his hand in yours as you wrapped it around in blooming flowers grass and branches, like a grounding spell

“Stop this” you begged

“You’re the one that should stop”

“You want me to stop loving you Sanji?” His breath hitched, the air in his lungs trapped in his throat, he couldn’t have missheard you since you spoke loud and clear, unafraid and so certain. What once was difficult now felt impossible, of course you decided this was the time you’d let the L word roll out of your tongue, now that he couldn’t answer, that he couldn’t say a word of how he actually felt. His heartbeat accelerated in fear, he had dreamed of this moment of you before him saying this, but it didn’t quite went this way

“Because you know damn well I can’t” was the last thing you said before the blonde pulled away from your hold, loosing your balance at the force in his movement, breaking both of your hearts

“Too bad, because you have to… please stop”

So you stopped, standing silently as the love of your life left

You had never admitted this to anyone before, but as Nami held your sad trembling frame in a tight hug you couldn’t help but to say

“Why am I always left behind?” every single word spoken in a broken whisper, merely making it out of your parted lips, but Nami catches it and she can’t help but to wince, like she could feel the deep cut in your heart

“I promise you we’ll get him back”

And you did, but walking into a wedding wasn’t exactly how you expected this rescue would go

The lights jumping from the white garments fry your brain, the wedding bells making your ears bleed and your vision blurry with water that falls from your eyes. Why her? Why now? You knew there was a possibility for Sanji to not reciprocate your love, but reality just hits you now as you see him holding another woman’s hands in his, as he is about to make a promise that you wished accompanied your name after it. Thorns growing out of your frame like venom

But, you got him back

Not a word is exchanged between the two of you in the ride back to The Sunny, your minds busy replaying the mix of emotions you both had gone trough the last few days

Sanji cannot get your voice saying I love you out of his

Your mind flashing images of Sanji and Pudding at the altar

What was there to say after that?

“Thank you for saving me, flower” he whispers as he settles at your side, Nami’s eyes open like dishes as she listens quietly, praying to whatever god is out there that the blonde doesn’t screw things up more with you

“No problem” the icy tone and your numb expression makes him miss your sweet smile, warm laugh and twinkling eyes he was once graced with to see everyday

Another silence follows, a painful one. A silence that makes him realize what he had made you feel

But he’s lucky you’re the most understanding, kind and benevolent being that has walked this earth

His eyes lock in your fidgeting hands, flowers growing from the inside of your palms in anticipation. With the outmost delicacy, he breaks trough them and takes one of the flowers making you gasp, his skin against yours sending electric shocks around your body

He gets on one knee like the dramatic fool he is, the navigator face palming knowing this was to expect from her friend. You stay still

“I am sorry… I have hurt you, an unforgivable sin, I deserve whatever punishment you wish to bestow upon me” his words waiver, as if trying to formulate the best way to get his feelings across and make you come back to him, to open like a sunflower under the beaming sun

“However” your eyes travel to his, getting lost in the endless sea behind them, praying for him to say the magic 3 words

“I hope my confession suffices as an offer worthy of your forgiveness” he pauses as he places the flower in your waving hair, so tender like you were made out of the most precious porcelain that could break at his touch

“I love you y/n, and I hope your love for me remains in your heart… at least a little”

You stay quiet, the expectancy making poor Sanji’s heart to jump like a firecracker, breaths heavy with hope and nervousness. And you break, because how could you not? You knew everything that happened was not to blame on him, in fact, he was much of a victim as you were, if not even more tragic for his own past to come and haunt him down just after he had found a life he could enjoy. With another batch of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you smile

A smile that melts Sanji like an ice cream on the hottest summer day, a smile he had prayed for to see at least once again, even if he wasn’t the reason behind it. Yet here you were smiling at him, for him, with him

You jump down to his arms, holding him tightly as your hearts dance in opposite directions of your ribcage’s, finally complete

“You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met” you say between half sobs half giggles, you pull away to look at him again “But you’re my idiot”

Usually Sanji would be nothing less than a gentleman and had asked you for permission, but today, he decides to indulge and just crash his lips into yours

Finally

Nami just rolls her eyes and Luffy laughs, content to finally see his dearest friends make up

Sanji’s finally home

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

Had an absolute blast writing this hope you like it as much as I do, ty for the request

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 17 days

Note

Hello! Could I please request jealous as hell Donna but with a jealous as hell reader? Like, Donna hides her jealousy because she's scared reader wouldn't like it but then she finds out that reader actually loves it and finds it romantic and is equally jealous over Donna? And her feelings being validated just makes Donna incredibly happy/feral haha, they're a perfect match. Your writing is awesome bless you 🙏🏻

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request and for your kindness, bless you too ;)! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Everyone has flaws

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, jealousy

Word count: 5,054

Summary: You know the way she is, but she doesn't know yours...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Am disturbing you?” you asked in a soft voice as you settled into the brunette's lap.

Donna was working on her dolls, as always.

She looked at you with a tender smile and shook her head, stealing a kiss from you, one of those that said much more than any word.

Starting a relationship was always a difficult step, a series of tests and obstacles that had to be avoided or endured. It was already that way with anyone, but Donna Beneviento, Lord and doll maker, was not just anyone.

Of course, you didn’t regret having taken that step, of approaching that mysterious woman covered with a black veil, that woman who always caught your attention at mass, that woman who always seemed quiet, absent, but who, at the same time, seemed to look at you in the same way.

Asking was daring, the result was extraordinary. Just telling her that you admired her work, that you liked her dolls, was enough for the shy lady in black to invite you to her house, to a tea, and then to another, and another.

Talking about feelings was complicated, telling that sick and dangerous woman that, in some way, you were obsessed with her, was an even riskier move. But luck was on your side, and you left your old, boring life, to live your own love story, a romance you longed for every day, that you dreamed about every night. You couldn't ask for more from the life of a simple village girl.

It could be luck, or it could be that Donna was as crazy about you as you were about her. Coincidence, luck, or a romance from a novel, what you called it didn't matter, the most important thing was to feel it every day, with every kiss, with every word of love, with every caress.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, while she dressed a new doll. Donna laughed, focused on her work.

“Putting a new dress on this new friend…” she whispered, not losing her concentration, even with you on her lap, even with you by her side all day, she never lost her focus, well, almost.

“Ohh…” you murmured amused, earning another one of her tender smiles as she shook her head.

“What do you think?” she asked, showing off her new creation, moving you on her lap so you were more comfortable, watching your expressions.

You nodded in approval at that new toy, one that would surely brighten the life of one of the village children, just like when you were one of them.

“Not bad…” you whispered, pretending to observe every detail, every little detail that Donna never overlooked. “Who are you going to sell it to?”

Donna shrugged, picking up the doll again.

“Whoever wants it, I guess,” she said amused, putting the clothes back on that piece of porcelain. “The Duke takes care of that.”

“Taking his share, of course,” you joked, holding on tighter to her body, being held by her soft hands on your waist.

“Money doesn't worry me, (Y/N),” Donna said, with a disinterested tone. “I just like to do it, it reminds me of… better times.”

“Oh, times when you didn't live with a pretty village girl like me, huh?” you said mockingly, putting a finger on her nose, causing another soft laugh from the brunette.

“I didn't mean that, I…” she said nervously, misinterpreting your irony, as usual. You loved that innocence, that way of understanding everything that only Donna could have.

You interrupted her apologies with a kiss, and then another, until a sigh from her lips told you that the fear had passed, that she hadn't made a mistake. Laughter filled the sinister workshop, as did the sound of your rhythmic kisses, deeper and deeper, more and more… intense.

It could have been a perfect morning, one of many, but the screeching sound of the phone interrupted that intimate moment about to turn into a passionate one.

“How timely,” you said, rolling your eyes and getting off her lap, something Donna prevented by pulling you.

“Angie will take care of that, tesoro… Come back here,” she whispered tenderly, returning the sweet taste of her kisses to your lips.

“Mm, I'm not going to complain,” you hissed with a mischievous purr, letting the subtle rocking of your bodies become rhythmic, the temperature rising little by little.

“Hey!” a squeal interrupted again, an annoying, irritating one, Angie. “Again, Donna? How disgusting!”

“Angie…” you sighed annoyed as the lady in black elegantly lowered you to the floor, looking at the doll with curiosity.

“Che vuoli? Sono occupata,” the brunette said, fixing the hair you messed up with your caresses.

“One day we have to talk about how busy you are since that stupid girl lives with us. I feel neglected,” the doll protested, comically crossing her arms.

“The stupid girl is here, in case you hadn't noticed,” you said, with an ironic tone, the one you always used with the irreverent puppet.

“Of course I noticed, that's why I'm saying it. What's the point of insulting you if you're not there to hear it?”

You laughed with your eyes half closed.

“I guess that's a good point,” you sighed, letting yourself fall into a nearby chair.

“You can't handle my expert verbalization, loser,” the doll mocked again.

“Angie...” Donna sighed, fed up with the little fights between you and her partner, fights that, always, were just a joke. “Enough…”

“Leave her alone, she seems to be having fun,” you joked, kissing Donna on the cheek, only to elicit an angry growl from the doll.

“You Donna-stealer!” Angie protested. “Get away from her and pick up the phone,” she said, comically pushing you away as you tried to kiss her owner again. You raised your eyebrows.

“The phone? Oh, that’s right,” you said with a hand on your forehead, pretending not to remember.

“Who is it, Angie?” Donna asked confused by the doll’s words. The doll simply shrugged.

“A friend of the fool,” Angie explained, pointing at you unpleasantly.

“A friend?” Donna asked, with a slightly more serious look, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“That’s what he said, he wanted to talk to the fool,” Angie repeated. You snorted with a smile and walked out of the workshop, leaving a confused Donna behind you.

“Hello?” you asked as you picked up the phone, feeling a chill from being alone in that dark basement.

“Oh, um, yes, um, in life, and in death, we give glory…”

“Shut up, you commoner! How dare you to disturb me?” you said, darkening your voice, exaggeratedly faking the brunette's accent.

“I, I'm sorry, Lady, Lady Beneviento… I… I…” the boy said, frightened. You covered the phone, holding back your laughter at that practical joke.

“You will pay for your insolence,” you threatened, with that same dark voice. “You have disturbed me and I’m very angry. I’m pinching and shaking my hands because I’m angry,” you joked, making the gesture with your hand.

“No, no! Please, have, have mercy… Please…” your friend begged. Poor thing, it was time to enjoy your victory.

You laughed loudly through the phone and the boy sighed.

“(Y/N)…” he told you, relieved but annoyed by your usual jokes. “Don't do that, one day I'm going to have a heart attack.”

“I can't help it, it's very funny,” you said, still laughing, relaxing your breathing and speaking in a normal tone. “Do you want something?”

“I don't know, I'm thinking about it now… Damn, why did you have to get together with her? She's… Terrifying,” he protested, laughing amused.

“Because I love her, and believe me, she's not that scary,” you said in a calmer tone. “Irina in the morning produces more nightmares than poor Donna.”

“Poor Donna? You're hopeless,” the young man laughed.

“You know me,” you said, sighing, looking around. “What do you want? I'm quite busy right now.”

“Oh, sure, I was calling you because this afternoon we're going to the lake. Maybe you'd like to come,” he commented, to which you nodded interested.

“Mm, friends plan at the lake…” you said amused, pretending to think about it. “Sounds good, I’m in.”

“See you, (Y/N),” the boy said before you hung up the phone.

You walked back to the workshop, slowing down to listen to a curious conversation between Donna and her doll.

“But… what did he sound like?” the brunette asked, questioning poor Angie. “Was he really a friend?”

“He was a dumb boy, he almost peed himself when I yelled at him,” Angie said disinterestedly, pretending to whisper.

“A boy? Are you sure?” the lady asked, in a nervous tone.

“Either a boy, or the world champion of dark voices,” the doll joked. “Don't ask me any more questions, Donna, I've told you everything I know.”

“But, but…” the lady stammered.

“Shh, the silly girl is coming,” Angie whispered, just before you entered the workshop again.

“Ok, that's it…” you sighed with a smile, clapping your hands together. “Angie, go away.”

“Kick me out if you dare, you filthy commoner…” the doll said, comically moving her fists.

“Then stay,” you growled, returning to the brunette's lap, wrapping your hands around her neck. “Enjoy the views, you kind of doll with a voyeur kink.”

“Wait,” Donna interrupted, just when you were ready to continue with your kisses. “Who…? Who was it?”

You blinked, snorting, knowing that there would be no way to continue with your actions.

“A friend,” you said simply, getting off again and sitting next to her, playing with porcelain arms, scattered across the table.

“What friend?” she asked abruptly, staring at you, with a serious, worried face. It was strange to see her like that, she seemed angry.

“Well…” you sighed, speaking carefully, as the trembling of her hands betrayed her nervousness. “Dino, my friend… I think you already know him.”

“No, I don’t,” Donna whispered, looking at you intently, searching for something in your gaze, something you didn’t know what it was.

“No? Well, nevermind,” you said passively, playing with those scattered and discarded arms. “Hey, can you give me a hand?” you joked, extending a porcelain limb towards the lady, who didn’t flinch. “Hey, you usually find my nonsense funny.”

“What did that friend of yours want?” she asked, taking the arm out of your hands, nervously. “I don’t like people calling home.”

“Well, yeah, but… It’s the only way they have to contact me,” you said, with a more deflated tone, with the smile already gone from your face. “He just wanted to invite me to the lake this afternoon.”

“To the lake,” she said, blinking incredulously. “What for?”

“To kill huge monsters with a boat and a harpoon,” you said mockingly. “What do you think? To spend the afternoon, nothing you have to worry about, Don... Donna?”

The brunette trembled nervously, with a dark gleam in her eye, avoiding looking at you directly, as if she were controlling her own anger, an irrational one.

“This, this afternoon I wanted, I wanted... To spend it with you, (Y/N),” she said stuttering, thus evidencing her nervousness.

“I spend every afternoon with you, my love,” you said in a soft voice, taking one of her trembling hands, preventing her from clenching her fists too tightly.

“Donna, Donna, danger, danger...” Angie said, tugging at the lady's black dress. Donna seemed to be on the verge of losing control. “Remember what we talked about.”

“Hey, hey, honey, honey…” you said worriedly, getting up from the chair and grabbing her shoulders, studying her erratic expressions. “Donna, my love, calm down… Do you… Do you have a crisis?”

She shook her head, unable to seem sincere.

“Oh, hey, if that I go worries you, I'll call him right now and…” you said carefully, thinking that was what worrying her. She shook her head again, closing her eye to calm down.

“No, it doesn't worry me,” she sighed, being calmed by your soft caresses.

“Mm, you're such a bad liar,” you joked, lifting her chin. “Do you want a glass of water?”

Donna nodded, turning her face away from your caresses. You sighed with a sad look, sad for not controlling her problems, because the shadows of her mind were always lurking.

“That's it, slow down, don't choke,” you said, giving her a drink. She seemed a bit calmer, with Angie replacing your support.

“You, you should go with your friends, (Y/N), it's what a girl like you should do,” Donna whispered, with a calmer voice, with the trembling of her hands increasingly controlled.

“Are you sure? I don't mind staying. You know I love being with you, Donna,” you said softly, kissing her slowly. She, with an exaggerated smile, nodded, returning the kiss.

At least that crisis could be fixed soon.

Donna had an infinite number of virtues, but many flaws too. Her repressed possessiveness was often a cause for concern. You knew she was jealous, terribly jealous, but she always insisted on lying, on hiding her true feelings. Yes, it could be a flaw but, in fact, you didn’t see it as such.

That voracious need to always have you by her side, to growl or snort at anyone who came too close, was even exciting, romantic to you. But Donna was still Donna, she would never admit to feeling inhibited by the irrational fear of losing you. It was something she tried to hide with all her might.

Luckily for you, and unfortunately for her, Lady Beneviento was not skilled in human relationships. She didn’t know how to hide her feelings.

Actually, that was not a bad thing either. If it had been the other way, you would never have been able to kiss her, you would continue with your boring life as a villager.

The afternoon at the lake was funny, it really was. From time to time you liked to leave that dark mansion and remember you had friends, that you would always have them. When you returned home, you wondered what absurd strategy Donna had in mind, how she would attack, what way she would use to find out even the smallest detail of that outing with friends.

“Hi, hi…” you said amused, opening the door, finding an erratic Donna walking from side to side down the hall, waiting for you impatiently.

“(Y/N)… Finally,” she sighed, throwing herself into your arms, covering you with tireless kisses that you laughed at, trying to breathe. It was the expected reaction, after all.

“Hey, hey, come on…” you sighed, gently pushing her away. “I haven't been away for three days.”

“It seemed like it…” she said, looking at you sadly. “It's been an eternity for me …”

“How exaggerated,” you joked, kissing her quickly and entering the living room, letting yourself fall on the sofa.

Donna followed you, nervously playing with her hands, closely followed by the doll.

“Did… did you have a good time?” she asked, sitting next to you, surely dying to ask many things.

You nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes, it was good,” you said passively.

“Do you want, do you want to have something for dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, with a fake smile, holding her sweaty hands so they wouldn't move on their own. “I've prepared your favorite food for you… Just in case you came home hungry…”

“Ufff, I'm not hungry at all, honey,” you said, rubbing your stomach comically. “Irina has prepared so many sandwiches that I think I don't have blood anymore, but bread crumbs,” you joked.

Donna felt disappointed by your answer, looking at you with a dark glint in her eye.

“Who is Irina?” she asked in a different tone, getting a little closer, studying your gestures.

“A friend, the baker's daughter, I think you know her,” you said casually. She hardened her gaze, nodding briefly.

“She's such a beautiful girl,” she whispered in a voice that betrayed a lament, something that made you frown.

“She's not bad, but she wears too much makeup,” you joked, wanting to be funny, failing again. Donna moved, looking away.

“I see…” she murmured, clearing her throat, starting to shake again.

“It's not that bad but… Those sandwiches… They're out of this world. You should stop by her store one day and…”

“Maybe I should,” she said with a proud tone, crossing her arms. “I think she'd look pretty with her insides out, don't you?”

You opened your eyes with a confused smile at that terrible threat, tilting your head in an exaggerated gesture of disgust.

“Donna, that was… Terrifying,” you whispered, amused and scared at the same time.

“Donna, Donna…” Angie interrupted, tugging at her dress again. “Not threats… You're going to scare her,” she whispered, failing in her attempt at being confident. You frowned.

“Do you like how she cooks?” Donna asked, with a calmer tone but the same resentment in her voice. “Does she cook better than me? Do you prefer to eat what she makes?”

“What? Donna…” you said sighing, rolling your eyes. No matter how much she tried to hide it, her jealousy always came to light. “No one cooks better than you.”

“That's what you say now,” she grumbled, pushing away the hand that wanted to caress her. “You know what? If you're going to be talking about how wonderful that cagna is, I'm going to bed.”

“I didn't say she's wonderful, I just…” you said confused, watching the lady get up from the couch, quickly followed by you. “Hey, Donna, wait, hey…”

“Lasciami stare,” she hissed, pulling your hand away from her wrist, growling angrily.

“Don't be jealous, come on…” you whispered with a tender smile, blinking smugly, your heart beating for that dark side you liked so much. “Come here, honey, let me show you how much I love you… Come on, please.”

“Vaffanculo,” she hissed again, turning and disappearing from your sight, leaving you glued to the floor.

“Wow…” you sighed, shaking your head. “What did she say to me?” you asked Angie, who shook her head with a wooden hand on her forehead.

“She said: Fuck you!” the doll said, running after its owner. “Donna, Donna, wait, wait! You're screwing it up again!”

You pointed at yourself, incredulous at such an inappropriate word and frowned.

You had to wait a while to go down to the bedroom as well, letting that jealousy you loved so much fade over time.

“Hey, Donna…” you whispered, joining her on the bed. She groaned, turning her back to you. “Are you feeling better?”

“I'm fine,” she whispered.

“Okay…” you said, rolling your eyes and snuggling up to her. “You have no reason to be jealous, my love.”

“What?” she asked, feigning surprise. “I'm not jealous.”

“Yeah, sure you’re not,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Donna…”

“I just, I just care about you,” she corrected, turning on the light and sitting up in bed. “What if stupida had poisoned the sandwiches?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked amused. “Why would she do that?”

Donna shrugged, with a proud pose.

“Being with me puts you in danger, (Y/N)… Don't forget that,” she whispered, cupping your face in her hands, gently pulling it to kiss you.

“Oh, so that was it, huh?” you asked amused, with a mocking smile. “It wasn't jealousy.”

“It wasn’t,” she answered dryly.

“It wasn’t,” you repeated. “Nothing to do with jealousy.”

“Niente”

“Okay… Okay… Good night, Donna,” you sighed, kissing her cheek, laughing internally at her fear of acknowledging her true concerns.

At least the next day was a normal one, well, almost normal. It was the day of the monthly visit to the castle, one that didn't make you particularly happy, but that you would have to endure so Donna wouldn't worry about leaving you alone at home. You didn't want any more absurd arguments, no matter how romantic their intentions were.

“Tea?” the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with her always kind, but impossibly seductive smile.

“Sure, thank you,” you said, sighing, wanting to end this little meeting as soon as possible. You didn't know why Donna insisted on going every month. She barely spoke.

“Have you heard what happened in the village?” the lady in white asked, serving some steaming tea to her sister. Donna shook her head. “It seems that someone has been destroying the bakery tonight. Apparently that poor girl had a panic attack.”

You turned your head towards Donna, widening your eyes accusingly. The lady in black moved into a defensive position.

“That way she'll learn…” Angie whispered, sitting next to you.

“What do you mean, dear?” Alcina asked, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Donna…” you whispered, nudging the brunette.

“It wasn't me,” she murmured behind her black veil, in a childishly comical way.

“Yeah, sure,” you said amused.

“Did I miss something, ladies?” Alcina asked, laughing amused.

“No,” you, Donna, and Angie answered in unison.

An unpleasant buzzing sound reached your ears. Oh, of course, they couldn't be missing.

Dimitrescu's three daughters materialized with sinister laughter, to Angie's delight.

“Donna, Donna, did you bring it?” one of them asked, Bela, leaning on the couch shamelessly, close, too close to Donna. You shifted uncomfortably.

The lady in black nodded, handing her a bag with a black cape inside, which the young vampire showed off with a gasp of approval.

“It's great!” she squealed, admiring her new possession. You frowned. Unintentionally, your hands began to tremble. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Bela shouted again, throwing herself at the brunette and kissing her effusively on the cheek, through her black veil.

You began to feel uncomfortable at this unexpected affection. Normally no one got so close to Donna, everyone feared her. You should have assumed that this was not the case with the Dimitrescu family, but seeing such exaggerated displays of affection for yourself stirred your feelings a bit.

“Bela, leave her alone, don't overwhelm her,” Alcina said, gesturing towards her daughter, who smiled pleased, hugging Donna from behind and rubbing her head against hers.

“I'm just grateful,” the young woman protested. “You are the best, Donna, the best,” she said, shaking her again, kissing her for the last time, dislodging her veil.

You, kindly, wanting Dimitrescu to move away, reached out your hand to arrange the black cloth properly. But Bela stepped forward again, placing the doll maker's veil with a concentrated look, something that only you could do, that only you had the right to do.

Your fists clenched in your dress unconsciously and your gaze darkened. The shadow of jealousy had not yet appeared to torment you, you thought it never would.

“Mm, done,” the vampire whispered, finally moving away from your girlfriend, an occasion that you took advantage of to get a little closer to Donna and kiss her unexpectedly where her lips were, also on the black fabric.

“Oh, I see so much affection,” Alcina joked, laughing amused by your attitude. Donna stammered something incomprehensible, nervous about that stolen and indiscreet kiss.

“(Y/N)…” she whispered scared, embarrassed by such a strange act.

“Hey, you, whatever your name is!” Bela said, pointing at you unpleasantly.

“My name is (Y/N),” you growled. You should know what they were like, you knew them, but on that occasion, an irrational hatred ran through your veins.

“Whatever,” she said, pulling your hand away from the couch. You, seeing it as an attempt to separate you from Donna, pulled away from her grip, sitting back down with your arms crossed.

“Don't you want to play? The maids have taught us a new game,” another of the sisters, Daniela said.

You shook your head, leaning on Donna's shoulder, taking her arm so she would surround your body.

“I'm fine here, thank you.”

It was a somewhat strange afternoon. In your mind you could only see Bela Dimitrescu's gestures of affection, Donna's passivity towards them. She spoke to you as you walked through the forest, but you didn't listen to her, you could only hear the vampire's mocking laughter.

“What do you want for dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, closing the door and getting rid of the veil, with an innocent smile.

“I don't know,” you said with a brusque, spiteful tone, one that Donna didn't seem to notice. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I asked first,” she said with a sweet voice, gently grabbing your waist, kissing you affectionately among soft and shy laughs.

“Release me,” you said dryly, pushing those tender kisses away from your face, pushing her by the shoulders. “Do you feel like cuddles?”

Donna looked at you surprised, with her eye wide open due to your rejection.

“Well, I…” she murmured confused, with an embarrassed smile.

“What a coincidence, huh? We come back from the castle and you get tender…” you said in a cold tone, shaking your head.

She remained thoughtful, looking for a reason for your attitude, one that she couldn't find, of course.

“I, I want to make love, (Y/N)…” she said in a discreet whisper, trying not to let those words reach Angie's ears.

“Oh, do you want to do it now? Right now?” you asked with a mocking smile, narrowing your eyes.

“Yes, well…” she said, shaking her head, confused. “If, if you don't want it, I'll…”

“I don't want it,” you snapped, huffing. “I'm hungry.”

“Fi, fine…” she said, looking at you cautiously, searching for something strange in your gaze, something that didn't fit with your normal behavior. “Tell, tell me, what do you want me to do for you?”

“I don't know…” you murmured, controlling your anger, that sea of jealousy that flooded your rational thought. “Something that fits well with white wine.”

“White wine?” Donna asked, searching for an idea in her mind. “I think, I think we don't have any. But red wine will do.”

“Of course, of course... You love red wine, don't you?” you asked, furious again, erratic. She shook her head, taking a few steps back.

“Yes, I, I like it,” she answered fearfully.

“Red, red as blood, right?” you mocked.

“Te, tesoro, what's going on? Have I done something wrong?” she asked, searching for your trembling hand, calming it with hers, with a pleading look.

“I don't know, have you?” you asked, sighing, controlling your anger, that jealousy you felt. “Really, Donna? A new cloak for the fly girl?”

“Cosa?” she asked surprised. “What, what are you talking about?”

“Bela Dimitrescu, that's what I'm talking about,” you confessed, turning your back on her. “Why do you have to make her a new cloak? Can't one of her hundreds of maids make it for her?”

“Um, well, she, she likes the clothes I make,” Donna explained, running a hand over the back of her neck, not being able to help but feel somewhat proud.

“She likes a lot of things about you…” you hissed, turning on your heels, with a crazy look. “Giving you kisses, for example.”

“Oh, well, you know they are that effusive,” she said with an innocent smile, approaching cautiously.

“And you love it, don't you?” you asked ironically, leaning threateningly over her. The lady in black looked at her doll, who shrugged, unable to explain your attitude.

“No, no, I… Amore mio, what's wrong?” she asked, confused and a bit intimidated by your unusual attitude.

“Look, I thought I wouldn't have to tell you this but... I'm sorry, I'm very jealous,” you finally said, looking away. “I'm jealous to death, I'm dying of jealousy. I can't stand it.”

“Y-You? Jealous?” the lady in black asked, surprised, frowning. “But, but...”

“What?” you snapped, pointing at Donna with your finger, making her back off again. “Of course, I can't be jealous, right? You can make a poor girl hallucinate because she cooks well, but I can't be jealous...”

“But, but...” the doll maker murmured, backing away while you chased her around the living room in a comical way.

“Yes, I am, I'm terribly jealous, I can't stand anyone laying a finger on what's mine, do you understand? Nobody can do that,” you said, poking the brunette with a finger on her chest.

“I, I didn't mean to...” she explained, shaking her head, grabbing your wrist with a nervous smile. “You, you don't have to worry, I'm only yours, you know that.”

“Oh, why does that sound familiar...” you murmured amused. “Don't be confused, Donna, and stop pretending, I know you're jealous even of the air I breathe, and do you know why I know? Because I feel the same.”

“I don't...” she said, closing her eye, controlling her breathing. “Okay, okay, yes, I... I can't stand the idea that someone, someone...”

“Mm,” you murmured, putting your hands on either side of your hips. “Well, at least you admit it.”

“I didn't want to admit it! That, that's not right, I... I didn't want to... Scare you,” Donna said, nervous, confused and hurt by having to admit her biggest flaw, one that you didn't even consider as such.

“The only thing that scares me, Donna...” you said with the softest voice, moved by those words, by the romanticism they evoked for you, the smile they formed on your face. “... Is that you might find someone better than me.”

“I fear the same,” the lady whispered, approaching you, bringing her hands to your waist again, brushing her lips with yours. “I'm terrified, tesoro... I don't want to lose you.”

“I don't want to lose you either,” you whispered, melting into her in a passionate, wild, even furious kiss. “I think the Duke have some insecticides, doesn't he?”

Donna laughed, shaking her head, kissing your neck mockingly.

“There's nothing you should worry about…” she whispered in your ear, caressing your cheek. “You're my first, and my only love. I love you, I love you so much…”

“Donna,” you said blushing, with a silly smile, hugging her to end that stupid argument. “You're very tempting, you know?”

“Do you really think so?” she asked amused, playing with your hands.

You nodded, kissing her again.

“Cheesy fools” Angie said, interrupting, as always.

“Hey, Angie,” you said amused, without letting the brunette go. “Look, we're just as jealous, what do you think?”

“Yes, yes, you make a great couple… You're just as crazy…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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