#Angstober 2024
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Motherfucker. I feel like I got shot to chest. Point blank.
That's the issues that would arise with any of the bats in the end: mask or the person behind it.
Just Like Him
Summary: When you argue with Jason, you slowly start seeing less of Jason Todd and more of Bruce Wayne. (Jason Todd x reader)
Word Count: 1.9K
Notes: I legit came back home from a night out and sat here editing this till 3am cause I refused to miss a post haha. A little bit shorter due to that and I'll do a second look over it later. Only warning for this is mentions of violence as usual for most of these, and that it hasn't been as edited cleanly as usual. Tomorrow's post might be really delayed too since I've got events tomorrow too. Anyways, enjoy my Lovelies~! xx
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You had loved Jason. You did love Jason.
You loved the boy who was too awkward to hold your hand when you went out in public, who left you notes at your door when he was too frustrated and too pent up to explain himself properly. You loved his habits, his quirks, the way that he cooked you food if he knew he was going to be out for a few days, silently leaving it in the fridge in the hopes youâd keep yourself healthy.
You also loved the dark sides of him, the nightmares he woke up to, skin sticky with sweat. You loved him even when his eyes were lost in the darkness, unable to tell who you were exactly but still seeking the comfort of your arms to shield him. You loved him even when he tensed outside in public, a sound, a smell, setting him off and making him clench onto your hand. His eyes were scared, but you didnât mind bringing him back into reality, letting him know that you were here for him.Â
Yet on nights like these, you love for him faltered slightly. These were the nights that you couldnât temper, the ones here he burned angrily and bit hard. He was currently pacing the kitchen, hands in his hair after a rough patrol.Â
âYou just donât understand.â He murmured over and over. âMaybe you just donât get it. Maybe you just never will. How could you even try to?âÂ
That hurt you, the way he talked like you werenât even there. Like you werenât in tears on the other side of the kitchen island. Like you hadnât been having this argument for an hour how, sunset drinking its way into the dusk.Â
This was the part of Jason that hurt you, the coarse side that snarled and growled at you like he was an injured dog. The side that looked at you with those striking green eyes narrowed into slits, who spat words like heâd never seen you before.
âI do understand Jason.â I you sigh. âYou want to protect this city, you want to change Gotham, but donât you dare tell me what I know or donât, when Iâm asking you to just be home more. Is it really that hard to protect the city and go out for a date?â You sigh, heart beginning to falter under the scrutiny of his gaze. âI know you canât always be there. Neither can I, but please,â you say, folding your arms across your chest. âPlease be there for me.â
âI am.â He groans back out, making a flicker of irritation spark in you.Â
âNot youâre not.â You counter. âYou leave dates, you leave dinners, you donât come home some nights. No warning, no text, no notice.â You snap back. âBeing there for me is being at those dinners, going on those dates, coming home, spending time in bed with me.â You snap. "it's not cold sheets, cold food, cold feet on date nights. Step up."
He throws his hands up in the air, teeth clenched. "Can't you see I'm trying to save the city? trying to stop it from eating itself from the inside? You know its corrupted, you know about the violence. Hell, you got shot." he snaps back. His fists are tightly clenched by his side, eyes burning into yours. You stare back at him defiantly, and it makes the frustration in him rise.
He knows he's not good at words, knows that he's rough around the edges. The voice in his head tells him that when he sits up at night, when he finally comes home. His head leans back against the headboard whole you sleep peacefully beside him, rolled completely onto your side. His fingers twist in the sheets, as it speaks at him, tells him that he's not good enough to be with you. That the city isn't safe enough, that he needs to make it safer. He wasnât the safest out of Batman's gang of protegees. He had a hit list that had started while he was just a young teenager and continued to have names added every other week. He'd been shot at, stabbed, thrown into and off of buildings, and that was something he was fine with. that was his job, his burden.
But when you got shot, that's when life really had caught up with him. It was like he had been living his life in slow motion up until that point, until it all rushed forward like a wave on double speed. He hadn't erven been there, halfway across town with Nightwing on some stakeout when he got the call. Dick had let him go without a word, merely watching him speed away on his bike before calling in backup from the cave to replace him. He didn't care that Bruce would get mad at him for abandoning his post, he could go to hell. What he cared about was you, and the fact that he hadn't been able to protect you, been able to stop it from happening. He heard about it only when the hospital called him, informing him that you were being prepped for surgery immediately.
How bad was it? Was it just one shot? Did it go cleanly through? Where were you hit? What calibre? What make? What model? Where did it take place?
Those were all questions that Red Hood might have been allowed to ask if he had worn the mask and marched through the emergency department, but he couldnât do that. If he did it would be a giant target on your back, associating you with his vigilante life in the most obvious way possible. Instead, he had to race through the doors breathless as Jason Todd, the worried boyfriend who had to be held back by security trying to get to your ward.
 You had of course recovered, learnt to walk again on the leg that caught a stray bullet from a gang shoot out in Lower Gotham. It had been worryingly close to your artery, but you had pulled through. Jason couldnât deny the fact that his status as a Wayne kid helped your care and the way the hospital aided your recovery. With a harsh word, Jason could have any of their licenses revoked.
That's why Jason did it. To make sure that the fear that gripped his heart that night never had the chance to wrangle him like that again. He'd fight night after night and come home with a string of broken and bloodied knuckles if it meant that you would be okay. It's all he can think about as he stares you down in the kitchen, watching your jaw twitch.
"Don't you dare use the fact that I got shot, against me." you seethe, hand coming up to point at him. "That wasnât my fault, and it could have happened to anyone in the town, it's Gotham, Jason." you bite back, and he throws his hands up.
"That's exactly the problem! It's Gotham." he shouts. "You can get shot, or stabbed, or killed. Anyone can. one day you're here, the next you ain't. You really want to go out there, sweetheart? You got shot and you want to tell me not to clean the streets up? The sheets are cold? Well, they'd be a lot colder if you were dead." he spits back, and you are too stunned to say anything. You shake your head, a look of realisation coming over you.
"Oh my god," you breathe out. "you're just like Bruce. Youâre no better."
That makes something in his freeze, halting all of his movements and shutting down his train of thought. You see it, see the way his bright green eyes widen and his head tilts slightly, making the white tuft in his hair flop over his eyes as you continue. "You're so obsessed with cleaning up the city. So obsessed with fighting out there that you can't give it up even for a second. You both can't. You criticize the man, tore him apart for his neglect just to do the exact same god damn thing.â Tears begin to prick your eyes in helplessness, lump building in your throat.
"You canât see yourself out of that stupid helmet." you say, choking up as the tears clog your vision. "When was the last time that you read?" you ask, sniffling. "When was the last time you did a hobby, or rode your bike as a civilian? When's the last time we went on a date or held hands, or went to the park, or the library or anywhere?" you yell at him, hand coming to claw at your heart.
"When was the last time you were Jason?" you whisper softly. "Because right now, I feel like Jason Todd has died for a second time." you choke out. "Except this time, it wasnât Joker who killed him."
You wipe your eyes with your sleeve while you leave him stunned, pushing past him to go into your bedroom. When the door slams harshly it snaps him out of the stupor he had found himself in, body swivelling on his heel immediately to follow you.
 You didn't respond to his soft knocking at the door, or his calls. You didnât accept the apologies he murmured into the wood, didn't bother to listen to his promises or ways that he swore he could make it better. It was only when he began knocking desperately, worrying building, that you swung it open violently.
Your face is a mess, sticky with tears and chin wet. Your breath comes out in small hiccups as you try to collect yourself, still mid sob as you shout at him. "Couch." you seethe, your puffy eyes glaring at him with a hurt filled dagger before the door slammed in his face. He sighed, forehead against the wood before pushing off the door frame with a click of his tongue. He plops down onto the living room couch with a groan, legs thrown over the side to try and accommodate for his size. He raises an arm to cover his eyes, other arm grabbing a couch cushion and bringing it to his chest.
"You're just like Bruce, no better." rattled around in his skull, making him chew at his lip. He didnât like that. He didnât like being compared to Bruce, even if he respected the man at times. He had come back, intending to be everything for others that Bruce had failed to be for him. Yet according to you, he was walking the same steps the man before him had traced.
Was he really no better than Bruce?
He groans and removes his arm from his eyes. He casts them over to the turned off TV, catching the sight of a much younger Robin peering back at him. With a smile the boy took off the domino mask and revealed the childish figure that was young Jason Todd. He raises a hand to his face as well, mirroring what he had just seen the reflection do. Except when he pulled his hand away, studying the digits instead of the TV screen, he could still see the remnants of the Hood he failed to leave at the door.
#messenger of babel#angstober 2024#day 25#fanfic#angstober24#angstober#angst#dc comics#dc fanfic#dc x reader#dc#jason todd x you#jason todd#jason todd angst#jason todd x reader#dc robin#red hood#red hood dc#red hood x reader angst#red hood x you#red hood angst#red hood x reader#dc jason todd#jason todd dc#dc red hood#jason peter todd#the red hood#< author's tags
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Welcome to another year of Angstober! We're delighted to unveil the prompts for this year of angsty, spooky fun.
What is Angstober?
Angstober is a yearly October challenge with 31 angst-themed prompts to inspire you to create. The challenge is open to all sorts of creative work - writing, art, edits, whatever you want - in whatever medium you want. Original work or fanworks? Whatever you feel inspired for!
How do I take part?
Tag your works with #angstober2024 and the day of the prompt (e.g., #day 01) to share on tumblr. Feel free to @ us directly in the post as well! To share your work on AO3, add it to the Angstober 2024 collection.
You can post your works whenever - early or late - and use as many or as few prompts as you feel inspired for! We'll do our best to reblog as many works to the @angstober blog as we can.
Is there a banner to post my work with?
Absolutely!
Anything else?
Nope. Happy Angsting!
2024 Prompt List
Again
2. Countdown
3. Self-Destruction
4. Blood
5. Do Better
6. Medication
7. âYou Still Donât Get It.â
8. Growing Pains
9. Promise
10. Humiliation
11. Wake Up
12. Rotten Touch
13. Shaking
14. Only Around You
15. False Hope
16. No One Else To Turn To
17. âShhhâŚâ
18. Falling Stars
19. Tear-Stained Cheek
20. Spare Me
21. Abandoned
22. Crocodile Tears
23. Safe/Unsafe
24. Dark Sunrise
25. Youâre No Better
26. Persuasion
27. Curled Up
28. Perfect
29. Get Out
30. Nothing Else To Tell You
31. It Ends Here
#angstober#angstober2024#angstober 2024#angst#writing challenge#prompts#writing prompts#prompt challenge#october#art challenge#creative challenge#prompt#fic prompt#story prompt#writing ideas#writing inspiration#writing exercise#story ideas#story prompts
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growing pains â aemond targaryen x niece!reader
a/n: i know iâm late. shit happens. iâm having so much fun with this writing challenge that the lateness isnât even bothering me anymore, lol. hereâs day 08 â growing pains. of course i had to keep it in the family for this one (got it? hehehehehe)
a/n 2: hey! just posted day 10 - humiliation, which can be read as a prequel to this. check it out! Â
summary: the daughter of the Realmâs Delight and the Rogue Prince was a valuable trade coin. amidst the chaos, and fortunately for her, there was one who saw her as a person and not a merchandise.
word count: 1.7kÂ
warnings: angst. targaryen incest (uncle/niece). mentions of death. slight ooc!aemond.
As a little kid in the Red Keep, you were under the constant eye of your motherâs step-mother. Your parents were always coming and going, and your siblings were all boys, who had the privileges that came with it. Your uncles and aunt were most often than not more than willing to ignore you, as well as your grandfather, the King.Â
Your uncle Daeron was sent away when you were very young, which was very painful, as he was very kind. The only one out of your entire extended family who could be considered as such.Â
From then on, with two grown sons and one far away, the Queen seemed to have more time with you. She always praised your silver hair, saying it differed you from your older brothers.
You werenât even a woman, hadnât even bled yet, when Aegon made his first pass on you. He was to be married to his younger sister, the Princess Helaena, and he knew very well your father, the Rogue Prince, would gut him if he ever laid a finger on you. Still, he made his remarks and made sure it was known throughout the Keep that he could have you any time he chose to.Â
Your mother spent most of her time in Dragonstone with your older brothers, sisters and father, and you got news from a raven that she was with child once more. Joyous news, of course.Â
However, even in happiness, you still felt a little left out. With the Blacks, you were the distant sister, kept away by the politics of it all. With the Greens, you were the first trueborn child of an heir who would never be, your legacy tarnished by the constant discussions of your brothersâ legitimacy.Â
Your Uncle, the Prince Aemond, was a constant in your life. Ever since birth, the two of you were always in each othersâ camp of vision. Sometimes a bully, sometimes an enemy, sometimes a friendly face in tedious functions, Aemond was always there. You had danced with each other a million times in events, not only in Kingâs Landing, but all throughout Westeros.Â
As the second son of the King and the first daughter of the Princess, you both were disposable enough to be sent wherever the Crown needed an appearance, but the royal family wouldnât be able to attend in its entirety.Â
He wasnât always a dragonrider, much like yourself. You only claimed a dragon as an adolescent, and he made sure you knew how proud he was.
The Cannibal, your dragon. Never before mounted, always thought to be a wild, untameable beast.Â
You proved them all wrong, and when you did it, their faces showed nothing but horror, except for Aemond.Â
Aemond was there, and Aemond was proud.Â
It was the dead of night in Kingâs Landing, but you couldnât sleep. It was when you heard the muffling and quiet running of servants from outside your door.Â
You knew you were in danger before anyone walked in, even though the reason was unclear to you.Â
You changed out of your nightgown and hid a small dagger in your clothing. Something was coming, of that you were sure, and you wouldnât stick around to find out. Women, even royalty, only had two fates in a crisis: death or marriage. You refused both.Â
You didnât fear for your life as much as you did for the second option. No one was insane enough to put a child of the Princess to the sword.Â
It was then and there you knew you had to go to your parents, in Dragonstone.Â
Aegon was married already, but there was nothing stopping him from taking a second wife to strengthen his claim. Queen Alicent was arduous when she needed be, and you had no doubt she would whore you out in order to protect her own children.Â
Your uncle Aemond loved you, of that you were sure. He would marry you gladly and he would make sure you were happy. When you were younger, the thought made your stomach fill with butterflies. You didnât need the Iron Throne, you were more than content with your beautiful uncle, who rode the largest dragon and was educated enough to carry a conversation for hours.Â
Even with his quarrel with your siblings, he saw you as a valuable member of the family. The main reason for that, you now understood, was because your allegiance was questionable. You were loyal to your parents, but you were also living with the Queen Alicent and her children.Â
In your mind, all the family bickering and fighting could have been solved if Jace and Helaena were to wed each other, but the Queen refused, of course. A marriage between you and Jacaerys wouldâve been the second option, and it probably wouldâve happened, if Lukeâs claim to Driftmark wasnât so controversial. There was no doubt as to your heritage, silver hair and lilac eyes. You were the spitting image of your parents, and a perfect Targaryen Princess.Â
Such were the growing pains of life. The nostalgia and longing for better days, even though the days past were just as tumultuous. Above all, you missed the innocence you lost.Â
You looked around your room, and it pained you to realize there was nothing to take but yourself.Â
There was a secret passageway in the backs of your room that would either take you to the Small Council or outside. Leaving now seemed like the only sane option.
As you made your way very quietly down the spiral stairs, you couldnât help but wonder what your life would've been like if your mother and her stepmother had simply gotten along. Maybe you would not be fleeting Kingâs Landing in the middle of the night like a criminal.Â
It was then that you felt an arm involve you, paralyzing you, and a hand fly up to your mouth to keep you quiet. You began to react, but the soothing shh made you calm down. You recognized that voice, and you knew who youâd see even before you turned around.Â
Aemond was hiding beneath a cloak, much like yourself. He looked around to make sure the two of you were alone, even though you were in a deserted, secret, ancient passeaway.
âUncleâŚâ, you wanted to be honest and simply ask him what was the matter, but you had to play your cards right.Â
âRČłbagon naejot issa (Listen to me)â. Your parents made sure you were fluent in Valyrian even before you fully understood the common tongue, and you were thankful for that. On the rare occasions you and Aemond spoke High Valyrian to one another, it was because something very funny or very important was happening. Now, you doubted it was the first. Â
Aemondâs one eye had so many emotions in them you couldnât focus on one alone, and his hand still held your arm tightly. You had no idea what he was about to tell you.
âGĹŤrogon aĹha zaldrÄŤzes se jikagon. Se dÄrys iksos morghe, Aegon jÄhor sagon vÄttan dÄrys sir se ao issi nykeÄ trade gelebo hae se tala hen Rhaenyra. Čłdra daor sĹvegon se route naejot zaldrÄŤzesdĹron, jikagon naejot Dorne nykeÄ naejot se Arryn's. AĹha kepa jÄhor ao adhirikydho. (Take your dragon and go. The King is dead, Aegon will be made King now and you are a valuable trade coin as the daughter of Rhaenyra. Don't fly the usual route to Dragonstone, go to Dorne or to the Arryn's. Your father will surely find you quickly)â, he spoke quietly, but intensely.Â
âWhy are you telling me this, Uncle?â, the frown was inevitable. Aemond had too many reasons to take you back, kicking and screaming, and present you to his mother. He was never kind, and this made no sense other than he was trying to lure you into a trap.
For the first time in your life, you looked at Aemond and saw exhaustion.
âNyke bÄ ao daor naejot gĹŤrogon aĹha hen ao (I care about you enough not to take your choices from you)â, he said, not looking directly at your eyes.Â
Years ago, you would have believed him in a heartbeat. He had just said the most perfect words a prince could ever say. Now, a woman grown, you didnât fully believe it, even though your heart wanted to, desperately.Â
You approached him, and your hand met his, that was still on your arm. The other cupped his cheek, making him look at you as you firmly said, âGĹŤrogon issa naejot se shores, mazverdagon issa aĹha ÄbrazČłrys. VÄŤlÄŤbÄzma hen iksos jÄhor mĹris istin ÄŤlon dÄŤnagon ÄŤlva ÄlÄŤ Äzma tala naejot Jaehaerys (Take me to the shores, make me your wife. Whatever war of succession is happening will end once we marry our first born daughter to Jaehaerys)â.
You didnât know how much your words resembled your motherâs. You would never know just how much it affected Aemond, making his manhood twitch with the thought of spilling in you and seeing your body grow with a little Targaryen princeling.Â
In another life, maybe, Aemond made you his. But now, as he well knew, the two of you had dance the dance to the choreography that was made for you.Â
He could still steal one moment, as all this was already borrowed time. Just one more.
So, he pulled you by your waist, closer to him, and pressed his lips to yours. First, your eyes widened, and then closed. You melted in his arms, and you kissed him back. The good feeling lasted only for a second before he was pushing you away. Â
âJikagon se Čłdra daor jurnegon arlÄŤ (Go quietly and don't look back)â.Â
He was already turning back and motioning for you to go, leaving behind not only him, but the life you made for yourself, quietly. It broke your heart, but you knew where your loyalty lied: with your mother, the only heir to the now late King Viserys. Soon, youâd be back at the Red Keep, and hopefully Aemond would be forgiven. Hopefully, the two of you could pick up where you left off.Â
Even with hope still in your heart, you knew the truth. You knew Aemond was just a memory now, even if you could still listen to his footsteps. You were older, wiser, and it ached, but such were the growing pains in life.Â
#angstober 2024#angstober#targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd aemond#aemond x you#angst#aemond targaryen x reader smut#aemond x reader smut#hotd aemond x reader#ewan mitchell#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#house hightower#house targaryen#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#fiction#day 8#day 08#writers on tumblr#targaryen incest#daemon targaryen#valyrian#high valyrian
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Please Come Back | K.SN
ăpromptă : wake up ăpairingă : bf!sunoo x fem!reader ăword countă : 1.2k
ăsynopsisă : after a huge argument, you ran out of the apartment in a fit of rage, and sunoo stayed behind; that was until he got word that you had been in a lethal car accident, resulting in you fighting for your lift with no sign of recovering.
ăgenreă : angst
ăwarningsă : cussing, brief mention of arguments, car accident, death, self-blame, lmk if I missed anything!!
ănotesă : this was written at like three in the morning while I'm fighting for my life to keep my eyes open so hopefully it turned out alright.
masterlist â navi. â angstober list
âCan you pull your head out of your ass and take a look at the real world? It doesn't revolve around you, y/n!â Sunoo hissed, anger boiling hot in his veins as he glared at you.
Matching his glare with one of your own, you scoffed in disbelief, âYou know what, Sunoo? Fuck you!â
With that, you stormed out of the house, refusing to listen to another word that would leave his lips. That was probably the worst decision that you could have made in your life and, quite frankly, your last.
In the span of an hour, you had been involved in a car accident with a drunk driver and was rushed to the hospital.
In the span of an hour, Sunoo received the call that nearly made his heart stop in his chest. You were critically injured and currently undergoing surgery that could mean a matter of life or death.
Dropping his phone, he quickly made his way to the hospital, surprised that he hadnât been pulled over in the process. Once he got there, he rushed into the hospital and to the receptionist's desk, asking them for you.
âThe patient is still currently in surgery,â The nurse explained to the blonde with a solemn expression because things werenât looking too good for you.
Sunoo then asked which operating room and pointed him in the right direction. Running off, he stopped in front of the door, pacing back and forth. You had to be okay, right? This was just a simple surgery, and you would come out alive.
Right?
âIt was just a stupid fight. Why did it escalate so far?â He started to beat himself up over the argument, praying that you would make it out of this and he could make it up to you.
After what felt like hours, the operation light finally turned off, and the door slid open. Sunoo quickly rushed up to the doctor, asking how you were, to which they gave him a look filled with pity.
âWeâve done everything we can, but sheâd be lucky to make it through the night.â The doctor informed the younger male, who nearly collapsed to his knees right then and there.
Nurses quickly rushed over to help hold him up, but Sunoo wasnât worried about them. He quickly grabbed the doctor's arm and looked at him with pleading eyes.
âCan I see her?â His voice shook as he tried his best to keep the tears that had built up on his waterline at bay, but as the seconds ticked by, it was proving more and more difficult to do so.
The doctor agreed before moving to the side and allowing Sunoo to walk into the room. As soon as he walked into the room, the tears he fought so hard to stop started flowing down his flushed cheeks.Â
There you were, lying in the hospital bed. A multitude of wires and tubes connected to your body, and god, did you look so, so lifeless. If it wasnât for the faint beeping of the heart monitor, one would think that you were just a corpse lying there. The sight caused Sunooâs heart to hurt, a sharp pain shooting throughout his entire body.
He couldnât stop the tears. All of the overwhelming grief and anger hit him like a freight train. There was no way he could process all of the emotions at once. His fist connected with the solid wall next to him in the blink of an eye.
It hurt, god, it hurt like hell, but even when he looked down at his now busted knuckles with misty eyes, he didnât even think twice before punching the wall once more. A cry fell from his lips as nurses rushed in to keep him from doing any more damage to his hand.
He wept and shouted, all of the pain coming out in anger until he tired himself out and just sat on the floor of the room. His eyes never leave your motionless figure as you lay in that bed.
Once he finally gained enough strength, he pushed himself to his feet before stumbling over to your side. Gently grabbing your hand, he dropped back down to his knees as more sobs racked from his body. He begged and pleaded with you to wake up. To yell at him once more for being such an asshole and that you would be just fine.
âIâm so so so fucking sorry, baby. Please come back to me.â He cried, fingers tightening around you as he studied your face.
Even as he sat by your side for the next few hours, he continued to blame himself for your situation. Blaming himself for blowing up at you for asking a simple question. Cursing himself for letting the fight spiral out of control like it did.
âI know Iâm an idiot, but I swear when you get out of here, Iâll do anything to make it up to you, justââ He was cut off by a hiccup as tears fell endlessly from his eyes, âJust come back to me. Please.â
Those next few moments felt like they happened in slow motion. The heart monitor that had been reading your shallow heartbeat suddenly fell flat, and your whole body went still. A loud alarm rang around Sunoo as he panicked, calling for the doctors to rush in.
âGet him out of here!â They shouted as the nurses tried to pull Sunoo from the room, but he refused to move. Watching as they started CPR and trying to bring you back.
The ringing in his ears was so loud that he couldnât hear anything else, tears blurring his vision once more. Even if it brought upon an unimaginable pain, he couldnât tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him.
âTime of death; 2:49 am.â Those words echoed in Sunooâs mind as he watched them move away from your body.
He refused to believe it; you couldnât be gone. You couldnât have just left him like that. No, this was just some sick and twisted joke that you were pulling to get back at him for arguing with you.
Rushing over to your motionless body, he grabbed your shoulders and shook you like a ragdoll, âCome on, y/n, this isnât funny anymore. The prankâs over. Ha ha, very funny.â He laughed dryly as he continued to shake your body. âWake up, please. Please wake up. I canât do this without you.â His cried echoed all around the room, the doctors and nurses averted their gazes in pity, some crying tears of their own.
âDonât leave me, please, Iâm sorry.â He sobbed, dropping down to his knees at your bedside.
âIâm sorry, but sheâs gone.â
âNO!â Sunoo shouted at the doctor with a teary gaze, âshe wouldnât leave me like this. She just wouldnât.â
The doctors allowed him a few moments with you in silence before ultimately dragging him out of the room as he kicked and screamed. Then, even after he was removed, he continued to plead with you to come back.
âIâm sorry Iâm such an idiot.â He hiccuped as he looked up, tears flowing from the corner of his eyes. "God, just give me one more chance.â
But he knew it was too late for another chance. You were gone, and the last words he said to you were out of anger. Something that would eat at him until the day he died.
All because of a petty argument.
@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
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#đৠđđđ đđđđđđ#kim sunoo#sunoo#enhypen#enha#kim sunoo angst#sunoo angst#enhypen angst#enha angst#angst#angsty#angstober#angstober 2024#kpop#kpop angst#kim sunoo x reader#sunoo x reader#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#reader x kim sunoo#reader x sunoo#reader x enhypen#reader x enha#enhypen fanfic#enha fanfic#kim sunoo fanfic#sunoo fanfic
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Angstober Day 1: âAgainâ
Some post-Kazekage Rescue Arc Trauma :)
#my tumblr got basically shadowbanned for over a month soooo late repost#angstober 2024#day 01#prompt: again#narugaa#gaanaru#gaaruto#naruto#naruto shippuden#naruto uzumaki#gaara#sabaku no gaara#gaara of the sand#gaara of the desert#naruto x gaara#love me some angst#angstober#Angstober2024#pomegrantArt
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Angstober (day 16)
Pairing: Tfatws!Bucky x Shield!Reader
Prompt: No one else to turn to
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, fainting
Authorâs note: I'm a little behind with the fics but I'm trying my best! Hope you enjoy :)
Angstober Masterlist
This is ironic, really.
Downright absurd. Laughable.
Youâre just not in the position to laugh, or even crack the semblance of a smile. Your face feels stiff, evidently held together by a fragile patchwork of cuts and bruises that might split open at the slightest twitch. Not that youâd want to smile, even if you could.
You had assured Sam that youâd be fine to drive yourself back home after landing back on base about 25 minutes before. There actually had been a genuine belief that youâd be able to make it, so you told him all you needed was a hot shower to wash away all the blood and some rest, ignoring the wary looks of Sam as he watched you drive off.
Well, turns out it was a bad idea.
A terrible idea, considering the door you find yourself standing in front of right now. You donât even know if heâs home. For all you know, he could be drowning whateverâs left of his sanity in some bar, down some street.
And even if he is here, he has every right to slam this door right back in your face. Perhaps after giving you the I told you so speech.
But in your defense, you really thought this mission would be simple. Sam and you both had thought so. It was supposed to be one of those in-and-out deals. But of course, itâs always those easy missions that turn ugly in a matter of seconds, spiraling into a slaughter that neither of you was ready for.
But hell, you even guessed Bucky saw that coming. Maybe thatâs why he was so determined to join you two, but Sam and you declined immediately, insisting on sparing him the confrontation. After all, it was supposed to be a quick cleanup. Hydra remnants scattered like dust, nothing worth dragging Bucky back into that mess for.
So, Sam and you both figured heâd be better off staying behind, working with Torres on whatever else needed doing.
Youâre glad you held back the comment about him hindering you on this mission by perhaps a disturbing memory or some shit. That wouldnât have helped your current situation at all. And you did think it would have been a little harsh. Even for the bickering kind of relationship the two of you have.
Bucky wasnât having any of that. He was ready to suit up and follow you into the fray, whether you wanted him there or not. Though, Sam and you took off before he could even strap on his gear. Simple, clean.
Predictably, that would definitely leave him in a foul mood. But to be real, grumpy isnât new for Bucky. Actually, you only ever saw his expression soften when he was lost in thought, so lost he didnât even notice you watching him. Or perhaps in that moment he really didnât care.
Still, that irritable look seems to be his default setting. And, to be honest, perhaps he doesnât even care enough to even be mad. You arenât friends. Hell, you wouldnât even call him an acquaintance.
You two are more like tolerated inconveniences for each other, sparse conversations always laced with sarcasm and banter. You doubt he sees you as anything other than a nuisance - someone always getting under his skin with your remarks.
So, you are well aware you really donât have any business standing in front of his door, blood drying on your skin, looking like death warmed over.
But thatâs the problem. You donât have a choice. Because there is no way youâre making the 20 minutes to your apartment. You also wonât make it back to the base. Not to mention that driving in this state will not only endanger you, but rather the traffic around you. You're already feeling the blackness that tries to seep into your irises, pulling at your consciousness, threatening to drag you under, making you pass out before youâd even hit the halfway mark. And you donât have anyone to blame but your stubborn self.
Bucky is your only option and you also start running out of time, the longer you linger outside his apartment, scared to knock. Terrified to do anything. You begin to sway on your feet. The longer you hesitate, the harder it gets to stay upright, and passing out on his doorstep for him to find you is perhaps even more embarrassing than this already is.
With trembling muscles, you try to lift your hand. Knocking on a door shouldnât take this much effort, but it feels like itâs costing you everything. Youâre burning energy you donât have, and itâs starting to show.
Your hesitation seems to have been for nothing since thereâs no answer after your knock. The only thing you hear is the blood rushing through your ears and your heartbeat loudly pounding against your ribcage, almost like a warning.
Another knock. It saps what little strength you have left. Your breathing grows heavier, more ragged, each inhale feeling like a sharp stab. There is a tightness in your chest that could be an indication something inside you might have torn, making it impossible to get in enough air.
The apartment behind the door is still silent.
You lean your forehead against the rough wood, the coolness grounding you for a moment. Itâs as close to a third knock as you can manage. Your eyes slip closed for just a second too long.
âBarnes?â He surely wouldnât be able to pick that up without his enhanced hearing. âItâs me.â
Youâre not even sure what to say; not sure what you can say that will get him to open the door. But your thoughts are starting to slow, each one taking longer to form than the last. The blood loss is getting to you, causing every joint to feel like itâs rusting over.
âAre you home?â you murmur, a faint laugh caught in your throat at how stupid it sounds.
For a moment you think you hear something, perhaps a faint shuffle from the other side of the door. But your brain is swimming in exhaustion and pain, and it could easily be your mind playing tricks on you, teasing you with false hope. Maybe you didnât even give him enough time to get to the door. You have no idea how long youâve been standing here - standing might be too strong of a term by now.
Time is slippery in moments like these, hard to grasp, impossible to track.
A heavy and burning sigh falls from your lips, dragging your chest down with it. You push yourself off the door with a struggle that tears at your skin, shaking your head at your own stupidity. Youâre not sure if your head even followed through with the movement.
You shouldnât have believed for a second that heâd be around, or that heâd care if he was.
You attempt to step away, aiming for the staircase, but it seems your body isnât in the mood to listen to any signal from your brain at all. Your foot catches on itself, and before you know it, you stumble, crashing into the wall beside his door with a loud thud. A pained groan forces its way out of you, the impact shooting excruciating vibrations through your body, curling into every nerve like theyâre planning to stay. You press a hand to your side, movements not entirely your own, but it does nothing to soothe the ache.
You curse under your breath, or at least you think you do, eyes fluttering dangerously. Youâre not sure how much longer your feet will carry you. Are you even still standing at all?
Muffled curses break through the rushing sound in your ears, blending into the tumultuous pulse of your own blood pounding in your head. They donât seem to come from you though.
âFucking hell, Y/n.â
All you can manage in response is another weak groan.
Before you can fully process whatâs happening and where that frustrated voice came from, you feel strong arms wrap around you, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Insanely enough, a surge of exhilaration bubbles in your belly and you feel weightless for a moment, like youâre floating in some strange void thatâs just barely tethering you to reality but still keeping a strong grasp on you.
The sensation is short-lived and you almost let out a whine. Not at all from the pain. Youâre lowered onto something softer than you guessed the floor would feel like, cushions beneath your back. You try to wrap your head around how that could have happened.
That weight returns. The hands around you, however, donât leave you. Your thoughts are sluggish and trying to focus on anything is an effort youâre not able to keep up with. Your vision is a spinning blur, dizzy head trying to make sense of your situation, but you can feel the tender press of the back of a hand on your forehead, checking for something you canât quite grasp.
Blue. Thatâs the first thing your mind manages to hang on to. A vivid, piercing shade of blue. But itâs not just color. Itâs wrapped up in something deeper. Emotions, swirling and twirling, so heavy it almost hurts to look at. The sight alone drags another groan out of you, low and pained.
âI know, sweetheart, I know. Just hold tight, you hear me? I got you.â
Wait.
You know that voice. Rough around the edges, always carrying a certain weight, but now laced with something you donât recognize. Those eyes on you - the blue ones - you know those, too. Of course, you do. But there is something new, something like panic flooding them, you never thought youâd see in Bucky Barnes.
âBarnes?â The word barely falls from your lips, more of a croak than anything, but itâs enough. He was home. He heard you. He carried you inside.
There is something stirring inside of you, a warmth threading through the pain. Relief, maybe, or something close to it. You know Bucky and you have your problems sometimes but hell you never doubted him being the good man he is.
âYes, itâs me,â he murmurs, so soft, you want to lay in it. Bathing in the gentleness of his voice, getting rid of the blood and pain your body holds. âTry not to talk, alright? There are some nasty bruises around your neck. You gotta go easy on your voice.â
You hum in response, the sound barely more than a soft but uncomfortable vibration in your throat. His words slide through your mind like shadows, half-formed and hard to grasp, but you understand enough.
Thereâs the sound of clattering around you, hurried shuffling of hands working beside you, perhaps on you, somewhere nearby. But instead of jarring you, itâs comforting, like white noise. It lulls you deeper into the fog.
Suddenly, his voice cuts through it all, sharp and urgent.
âHey!â
It startles you. Your eyes snap open - you didnât know they closed in the first place - body jerking from the force of his tone.
His face looms closer, those blue eyes boring into yours, pinning you down with an intensity you canât ignore.
âIâm sorry, Y/n, but you have to keep your eyes open. You hear me?â His voice trembles in a way you never heard, and that - more than anything - forces your mind back to the surface, your eyes clearing just enough to make him out.
Itâs disorienting, seeing Bucky like this. Surprising. He moves in a way that almost associates incoordination, a frantic energy surrounding him. There is something off about the way he handles himself, the way his hands fumble with supplies, clattering objects that should have stayed silent. Itâs startling, unsettling even. Bucky Barnes is a man in control. Just not right now.
His hands return to your body, his touch firm and still tender, but there is a shakiness in them as his fingers skim over your torn-up skin.
Heâs pressing gently where he can, wincing as if itâs him in pain every time you flinch. The fabric of your slightly torn suit sticks to your body, and he curses softly under his breath, grabbing a pair of scissors from somewhere beside him. With a few quick, jagged snips, he cuts away parts of the fabric of your suit to get a better view of your torso, revealing the bruises that litter your skin, darkening it in a sickening way.
He apologizes for every hiss, groan, and whimper you canât suppress at the sharp sting that slices through the dull ache due to the antiseptic he uses on your skin.
His brow is furrowed deeply as he wipes the blood away with almost erratic strokes, trying to clean the area but moving a little too fast for his usual precision. The cloth is stained dark in no time, and he tosses it aside, reaching for gauze, fumbling with the tape as if heâs forgotten how to use it for a moment.
Every breath feels heavier as he continues to work on your wounds, pain pulsing with every fresh inhale.
Buckyâs eyes keep darting between your face and the wounds as if heâs checking not only for your injuries but for something else - for a sign that youâre still with him, still conscious, still breathing.
His hand moves back to your forehead, brushing some strands of hair aside with so much gentleness as he checks your temperature again. His face is tight, his jaw clenched.
It is odd, almost comforting in a way you havenât expected. Bucky Barnes, always so composed, now seems to have trouble holding it together. And somehow, seeing him this unfiltered, this human, makes your earlier doubts vanish. Those persistent thoughts, that he wouldnât care if you showed up on his doorstep battered and bleeding, that heâd turn away, turn you away, or doesnât even open the door in the first place - they all but disappear.
He does care. More than you ever thought possible, more than you imagined he even knew how to. You can feel it in the way his hands linger on your skin, urgent yet careful, and in the way his curses are filled with so much apprehension and frustration.
The same Bucky you thought might not give a damn is now fighting some battle with himself as if his sheer will could hold you here.
And for some reason, that knowledge eases something inside you, delightfully loosening that knot of tension in your chest. Again, your body starts to feel like itâs floating, somewhere in the air but instead itâs sinking deeper into the cushions beneath you, slowly letting go. Itâs not your body thatâs floating this time, itâs your mind. As if it decided to detach itself from the pain, from the reality of your wounds and your situation, and simply drifted away. Itâs weightless, flying through a space just beyond your reach. Itâs almost surreal, like youâre suspended in air but you know, somehow, that youâre still lying on that couch.
And Buckyâs here.
His hands are on you. His voice is in your ears but none of it feels quite real anymore.
You donât have it in you to fight it anymore. Your body is letting go, surrendering, and you canât muster the strength to resist.
Buckyâs voice sounds closer, much more than you thought it had been, but it seems distant too. Itâs rough, desperate; words coming out with a crack. Heâs pleading with you, urging you to stay with him, to keep your eyes open.
But you canât. Youâre slipping. Still, you feel like smiling if your face would have allowed it.
Bucky is here. And although you stopped listening to his words, losing the sense of his presence, you know he will stay.
Youâre in good hands.
đ October Writing Challenges Masterlist đ
#angstober2024#angstober 2024#day 16#marvel mcu#bucky barnes x reader angst#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fic#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky x you
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MEAN IT | scarlett johansson
on your lips just leave it, if you don't mean it. i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! main m.list whispers of heartache m.list
Y/N and Scarlett had always been the couple that everyone admired. Their relationship was often described by friends and acquaintances as "perfect." Living in a cozy apartment in NYC, they had spent two wonderful years together. Their relationship was marked by sweet gestures, tender moments, and an unwavering bond. Scarlett, who was known for her strong and assertive personality, was always soft and gentle when it comes to Y/N. Every day, without fail, Scarlett would make Y/N feel special, telling her how much she loves her.
Every morning, Scarlett would wake up before Y/N, slipping out of bed quietly to prepare breakfast. She knew Y/N loved pancakes, so she made them from scratch, humming softly to herself as she worked. By the time Y/N woke up, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pancakes filled the apartment.
"Morning, sleepyhead." Scarlett would say, a smile lighting up her face as Y/N shuffled into the kitchen.
Y/N would smile back, eyes still heavy with sleep. "Morning, love."
Scarlett would set a plate of pancakes in front of her, sitting down across the table. "Eat up. You've got a big day ahead."
Y/N would take a bite and sigh contentedly. "You always know how to make my mornings better."
One day, while Y/N was at work, Scarlett decided to surprise her with lunch. She knew Y/N had a hectic schedule, so she packed a homemade meal and headed to her office.
When she arrived, Y/N's eyes lit up with surprise and delight. "Scarlett! What are you doing here?"
"I brought you lunch," Scarlett said, holding up the bag. "Thought you could use a break."
They sat together in the small break room, sharing stories and laughter. Y/N couldn't stop smiling. "You always know how to brighten my day."
On Sundays, they had a tradition of spending the day in their pajamas, doing nothing but lounging around the apartment. Scarlett loved these moments, where they could just be themselves without any distractions.
They would cuddle on the couch, watching movies or reading books. Scarlett would often glance over at Y/N, who would be engrossed in her book, and feel a surge of love and gratitude.
"I love you, you know that?" Scarlett would say, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N's face.
Y/N would look up, her eyes sparkling. "I love you too, Scarlett. More than anything."
In the evenings, they enjoyed taking walks around their neighborhood. The city was always bustling, but in those moments, it felt like it was just the two of them.
Hand in hand, they would walk and talk about their dreams and future plans. Scarlett loved these conversations, where they could dream together.
"Do you think we'll always be this happy?" Y/N would ask, looking up at the stars.
Scarlett would squeeze her hand. "I know we will. I'll make sure of it."
On their anniversaries, Scarlett always went all out. One year, she surprised Y/N with a rooftop dinner. She had decorated the space with fairy lights and candles, creating a magical ambiance.
Y/N's eyes widened as they stepped onto the rooftop. "Scarlett, this is amazing!"
Scarlett pulled her into a gentle embrace. "Only the best for you, my love."
They danced under the stars, holding each other close. Scarlett whispered sweet nothings into Y/N's ear, making her giggle and blush.
"I can't believe how lucky I am to have you." Y/N said softly.
Scarlett smiled, kissing her forehead. "I'm the lucky one."
Some of their best moments were the quiet nights in, where they would simply sit together and enjoy each other's company. Scarlett loved to play with Y/N's hair, weaving it into intricate braids.
"You're so good at this." Y/N would murmur, her eyes half-closed in contentment.
Scarlett would chuckle softly. "I just like playing with your hair. It's so beautiful, just like you."
Y/N would blush and lean into her touch. "You're too sweet, Scarlett."
Scarlett had a habit of leaving little notes for Y/N around the apartment. Whether it was a simple "I love you" or a longer message expressing her feelings, these notes never failed to make Y/N smile.
One day, Y/N found a note tucked into her bag that read, "Thank you for being the light of my life. I can't wait to see you tonight."
Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. Scarlett always knew how to make her feel cherished and loved.
Sometimes, they would stay up late into the night, talking about everything and nothing. Scarlett loved these moments of vulnerability and openness.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Y/N would ask, her voice soft in the darkness.
"All the time," Scarlett would reply, taking Y/N's hand in hers. "And every time, I see you in it."
Y/N would smile, her heart swelling with love. "I can't imagine my future without you."
Whenever Y/N felt insecure or anxious, Scarlett was always there to reassure her. She would hold her close, whispering words of comfort and love.
"You're amazing, Y/N," Scarlett would say, her voice firm and sincere. "Don't ever doubt that. I love you more than anything in this world."
Y/N would nod, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. "Thank you, Scarlett. I don't know what I would do without you."
Every day, Scarlett made it a point to remind Y/N of her love. Whether it was a kiss on the cheek before heading out or a sweet text message during the day, she never let Y/N forget how much she meant to her.
One morning, as Y/N was getting ready for work, Scarlett wrapped her arms around her from behind.
"I love you," Scarlett whispered, kissing the back of her neck. "Don't ever forget that."
Y/N smiled, turning around to face her. "I love you too, Scarlett. More than words can say."
Despite all these sweet moments, Y/N noticed a change. Scarlett became distant, preoccupied, and often seemed lost in thought. Her usual warmth replaced by an unfamiliar coldness. It started with missed calls and shorter texts, and Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The final straw came when Y/N stumbled upon a message on Scarlett's phone from Addison, Scarlett's ex of ten years.
Y/N's heart sank as she read the messages. They were friendly, but there was an undeniable familiarity and intimacy that made Y/N's blood run cold. She decided she couldn't stay silent any longer. That evening, as Scarlett walked through the door, Y/N confronted her.
"Scarlett, we need to talk." Y/N said, her voice trembling.
Scarlett looked up, her expression guarded. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I found messages from Addison on your phone," Y/N began, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why didn't you tell me she was back in your life?"
Scarlett's face paled, and she took a deep breath. "I didn't think it was a big deal. We're just friends now."
"Just friends?" Y/N's voice rose. "Why have you been so distant then? Why didn't you tell me about her?"
Scarlett sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I didn't want to worry you. Addison came back into my life suddenly, and it's been... complicated."
"Complicated how?" Y/N pressed, tears welling up in her eyes.
Scarlett hesitated before finally speaking. "Addison reached out to me. She wanted to meet up, and... I didn't hesitate to go. We've been seeing each other as friends, trying to be civil." Scarlett admitted, avoiding Y/N's gaze.
Y/N felt a sinking feeling in her chest. "Civil?" Y/N repeated, her voice breaking. "It doesn't seem like just civility, Scarlett. You've been distant, you've changed! What's going on?"
Scarlett looked at Y/N, pain etched on her face. "Seeing Addison again brought back a lot of memories, Y/N. Feelings I thought I had buried. We talked, and it was like we never lost communication. All the old feelings came rushing back."
Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. "What are you saying, Scarlett?"
"I... I still love Addison," Scarlett said quietly, the words hanging heavily in the air. "Seeing her again brought everything back."
Y/N felt like the ground had been pulled from under her. Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes. "So, in the two years we've been together, she was always in your heart? Then where was I, Scarlett? Did I ever mean anything to you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Scarlett closed her eyes, a single tear escaping. "You were never there, Y/N. I thought I could move on, that I could love you the way you deserve. But it was never fully you. It never became you."
The room fell silent as Y/N absorbed the painful truth. Her heart shattered into pieces. She had given everything to Scarlett, only to find out she was living in someone else's shadow.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Y/N whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Why did you let me believe we had a future together?"
"I thought I could make it work," Scarlett replied, her own voice breaking. "I didn't want to hurt you. I thought if I just tried hard enough, I could let go of Addison."
"But you couldn't," Y/N said, her voice hollow. "And now I'm the one who's left broken."
"I'm so sorry, Y/N." Scarlett apologize.
"It's like, last night we were more than fine." Y/N said, letting out a teary laugh, "You only let me hold you because she can't."Â
"Forgive me, Y/N." Scarlett said, reaching out to touch Y/N's hand, but Y/N pulled away, her eyes filled with hurt and confusion.
"Don't mess with my head," Y/N shook her head, anger and hurt mingling in her voice. "You shouldn't have told me you're falling if your feet is still on the ledge."
Scarlett stepped closer, her eyes pleading. "I need you, Y/N. I need you in my life."
"Don't tell me that you need me," Y/N shook her head, stepping back further. "You can't keep doing this to me. You can't keep saying you need me when you still have one foot in the past."
Scarlett tried to approach Y/N again, leaning in to kiss her forehead, but Y/N stepped back, holding up her hand to stop her. "Don't kiss me, no, don't kiss me right now."
Scarlett's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I tried to move on, I tried to be the person you deserve, but I couldn't. Addison's presence brought back so many memories, so many feelings."
Scarlett's tears fell freely now. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I thought I could love you and let go of Addison. But I failed. It was like old times, like no time had passed. We talked, and the spark was still there. I fell in love with her all over again. I'm so sorry. "
Y/N's heart shattered even more at Scarlett's words. She turned away, unable to bear the sight of the woman she loved admitting she loved someone else. "How could you do this to me? To us?"
Scarlett's voice was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry. I wish I could change how I feel, but I can't."
Y/N wiped her tears, her voice cracking. "I thought we had something special. I thought you loved me."
Scarlett stepped closer, desperate to make Y/N understand. "I do love you. But my love for Addison never went away. I thought it had, but I was wrong. I never meant to hurt you."
Y/N's voice was filled with resignation. "But you did. You hurt me more than I ever thought possible." Y/N took a deep breath, wiping away her own tears. "Scarlett, I loved you with everything I had. I gave you my heart, my soul, and you couldn't even see me. You were always looking back, never fully here with me."
"I know. And that's my biggest regret."
Y/N nodded, her resolve firming up. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not. You need to figure out what you really want, Scarlett. Because I can't be in a relationship where I'm second best."
Scarlett's heart broke as she realized the finality in Y/N's words. "I love you, Y/N. I do."
Y/N looked at her, pain etched across her face. "On your lips just leave it, if you don't mean it." she said softly, her voice breaking.
With that, Y/N walked out of the apartment, she felt a mix of anger, sadness, and confusion. The place that had once been a sanctuary now felt like a prison. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she needed to get away from the pain, from the memories, from Scarlett.Â
Scarlett was left standing alone, the weight of her choices heavy on her shoulders. Scarlett watched Y/N leave, her own heart heavy with regret. She knew she had made a mistake, one that had cost her the most beautiful thing she had ever had. But it was too late. The damage was done, and she was left to face the consequences of her actions alone. As Y/N disappeared into the night, Scarlett knew that she had lost something irreplaceable, and she had no one to blame but herself.
As Y/N walked through the bustling streets of New York, the city lights blurred by her tears, she knew that she would have to find a way to heal from this heartbreak. She had loved Scarlett deeply, but in the end, it wasn't enough. Now, she had to learn to love herself again, to find her own way in a world that had suddenly become so much darker. She needed to figure out her own feelings and decide what to do next. All she knew right now was that her heart had been shattered, and it would take time to heal.
#wlw#female reader#imagine#lesbian#natasha romanoff#natsgrave#x reader#whispers of heartache#scarlett johansson#scarlett johansson x y/n#scarlett johansson x reader#scarlett johansson imagine#scarlett ingrid johansson#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanov#black widow#scarjo#angst#one shots#scarlett johansson angst#fem reader#black widow x female reader#natasha x reader#natalia alianovna romanova#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x reader#black widow imagine#mean it#angstober#angstober 2024
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Treason | Azriel x Reader
Day 4: Blood w/ Azriel
Summary: You come home early from a trip, only to discover a particular Vanserra warming the bed in your place.
Word Count: ~1.6k
Warnings: Smut, gay sex, naked men, HEAVY angst, cheating, blood, violence (punching), mentions of illness, does not have a happy ending. this is literally just heartbreaking.
A/N: well, azris is now something Iâve written for. this is literally so sad, but gotta have something for angstober, even if I donât think angst is my strongsuit. hope you enjoy<3
Requests are open!
It was late when you got home.
You were supposed to stay on your visit to Dawn Court a bit longer, but after falling mildly ill for a few days, youâd decided to cut it off a day or two early and return home. It wasnât like you were too upset to go see your partner a few days earlier, even if the two of you werenât mates, you were happy with what you had found.
Or at least you thought you were.
The House was dark when you arrived, the sentient home opening the door for you, quicker than normal, almost. As if urgent, trying to pull you along.
You didnât want to wake Azriel, assuming he was asleep by now. He rarely got good sleep these days, getting up in the middle of the night to take flights, saying he needed to sort his thoughts. You didnât blame him. His work wasnât exactly the best for his mental state.
Sitting down at the table, you waited for the House to give you a meal, per usual, but it didnât happen.
You waited a few seconds, pausing, and glancing around as if to see the reason for the delay around the room.
âHouse? Can IâŚhave food?â
You whispered to the thin air, knowing you probably sounded stupid. Hesitantly, you knocked on the wood, raising a brow in confusion, waiting a few more seconds before getting up from your chair with a sigh, deciding that you could just get your own food.
You walked quietly over to the cabinets, hand closing around the cold metal that felt a bit warmer tonight. The House itself felt warmer, almost uncomfortably so. Maybe the House was just having an off day, you couldnât think of any other reason for its strange behavior.
As if to prove your point, when you pulled on the cabinet, instead of opening, it remained stubbornly shut, as if glued by someone.
Maybe another one of Cassianâs âjokesâ.
So you tried another cabinet, the one that held the bread, and it also stubbornly refused to open.
After trying cabinet after cabinet, drawers, and more, you discovered that everything refused to open. It was as if the Mother herself had just decided to make you go to bed hungry.
Sighing, you gave up, deciding to just eat in the morning, quietly starting to pad down the hallway, rolling on the balls of your feet to keep your steps silent, not wanting to wake anyone.
Cauldron knows Nesta would crucify you if you interrupted her beauty sleep.
It was then that you heard it.
The unmistakable sound of sex. Moans and grunting.
You could recognize Azrielâs voice, but not the other one in the room that you and he shared.
You froze in place, almost stopping breathing as a sick feeling twisted in your gut, different from the nasty illness youâd gotten in Dawn. No, this wasnât a physical sickness, it was a mental one. You tried to convince yourself that your assumptions were wrong, that you were overthinking and this was all just a big misunderstanding.
That youâd be able to fold into Azrielâs warm, strong arms like nothing had happened after this, that he would still be your safe place.
An invisible hand, familiar but alien at the same time, urged you forward, whispering into your ear.
Keep going, it said.
You must see, it murmured into your ear.
It felt like the wind raking through your hair, a gentle caress that was there and gone, a sad melancholy that seemed to already know there was no happy ending to this story. Youâd been doomed from the moment you stepped into the House.
And so you continued walking.
You werenât sure if it was just your imagination or not, but the air seemed to grow thicker, suffocating, wrapping hands around your throat and squeezing until you were almost hyperventilating when you walked. It was warmer here.
Much warmer than the House usually kept it at.
The hallway seemed to stretch on indefinitely, and you walked and walked and walked until the door was standing in front of you, handle staring at you.
Laughing at you.
Your shaky palm enveloped the handle, turning, pushing, unveiling the scene in the bedroom.
In your bedroom.
Your bed.
The other male was below him. Red locks that had a silver gleam in the dim light were strewn above him like a crown on the pillow that his face was shoved into. His ass was in the air, back arched, knees pushing into the bed.
Azriel was bare just like the other male. Kneeling behind him. Hovering over him.
Inside of him.
His hips pushed forwards and backward, a rhythm that seemed to taunt you, a rhythm youâd experienced before, but never quite so frenzied, never so excited or eager like it was his first time all over.
His wings were flared out, casting a deep shadow over the Vanserra beneath him. The Heir beneath him.
The enemy beneath him.
The door had swung open, the knob finally hitting the wall, and immediately Azriel snapped over to look at you, eyes widening.
You didnât even know if you were crying. Everything felt numb, like a dream you could reach but not quite hold. Your limbs tingled, some sort of anger, or maybe sadness building, an outburst.
You could feel it coming as you watched, eyes dead, face blank.
Eris groaned at Azriel stopping, turning his head to look at him, but catching your eye as he saw you. He inhaled sharply.
The room went cold.
The candle went out.
It went further than just discovering an affair, you knew.
Eris was from another Court.
A Court that currently wasnât allied with Night Court.
Azriel was essentially committing treason, an act punishable by imprisonment or even death in severe cases. And with Morâs past with Eris, and how close Rhys was with Mor? There was no doubt in your mind Rhys would be pissed. Mor would be crushed.
Not just treason of the Court, but treason of the family as well.
Azriel seemed to realize this, rearing back away from Eris, the redhead hissing as Azriel yanked out of him. The shadowsinger tried to approach you, pulling a towel around his waist to cover himself.
Another towel was laid on the floor.
Theyâd both taken a shower in your bathroom.
The bathroom you and Azriel had shared once.
That sick feeling in your stomach traveled up and up, metastasizing through your blood, reaching your head and a blind anger overcame you.
Your head felt white hot, molten, almost.
Magma filled your veins, but not in the usual way it had in the past with Azriel.
His lips were moving. He was talking, saying something. You couldnât hear over the ringing in your ears.
You didnât bother trying to listen as that magma slid into your hands, your knuckles and fingers as your fist landed right on his jaw. Just like Cassian had taught you.
Just like Nesta had taught you.
He visibly recoiled, head spinning, Eris was on his feet now, baring his teeth.
You were yelling, words that tasted like iron and spoiled milk and rotten food that had been left out for too long leaving your lips, hands balled into fists again.
Something warm and wet was sliding down your cheeks.
Azriel kept saying something over and over, the same words leaving him, and it was only when a smarter part of your brain managed to finally listen, did you hear it.
âHeâs my mate.â
You heard the choked sobs coming from him now and saw Eris rushing to him, trying to comfort him. The instincts in full control.
Then your senses picked up on it, your body kicking into overdrive and processing faster and faster now that your fight or flight had snapped.
They were mated. Freshly.
They had used your away time to seal the mating bond.
You knew you should feel bad for the crimson liquid dripping down Azrielâs nose from another punch you mustâve thrown, not even remembering properly anymore.
You should be happy for them.
But instead, you turned on your heel, walking out of the room into the hallway, only to see Cassian with bleary eyes walking over, visibly confused, and Nesta close behind.
But she knew. You could tell.
By that anger in her eyes that matched what you felt. The silver lurching in her icy blue eyes. She saw you, and murmured something to Cassian, him nodding, and she walked over to your side.
No words were said.
None needed to be.
She knew where you were going already. A place that was always safe, no matter what. The library door wasnât locked like the cabinets had been. It never was.
You walked in, and that strange presence wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting. You walked and walked and kept walking, the labyrinth of bookshelves giving their condolences as you passed.
You only stopped walking when you reached a small nook, an area with windows of stained glass, moonlight gleaming through them and color splaying out on the floor, onto you and Nesta as you stopped and sat on the floor, back to the wall.
She sat next to you.
You leaned forward, curling inwards, only then breaking open and letting every shard of broken glass spill out of your eyes as sobs wracked your body, shaking you, cracking the stone foundation youâd built yourself on.
The sand that had felt like stone until the storm came.
Until you had to mourn someone who was still alive.
Tags:
@hawke1917
@angstober
#writers on tumblr#acotar fanfiction#acotar fandom#acotar x reader#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel angst#acotar angst#heavy angst#azris#azris fanfiction#azris angst#angst with a sad ending#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#azris smut#azriel fanfic#eris vanserra#angstober#angstober 2024
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Insufferable
Angstober Day 3: Miscommunication with Lucien
CW: Tamlin, angst with a happy ending, miscommunication, implied SA(not super obvious, but if you know, you know)
AN: So sorry this is late! Today I'm catching up with my October fics! This takes place during ACOMAF, when Feyre would be in the Night Court. I tried to make YN tomboyish without making her a pick me, but sorry if she gives pick me vibes.
Summary: YN has lived in the Spring Court her entire life. When Lucien arrived, the two became fast friends. YN fell in love with him. But when she overhears a conversation between him and Tamlin, her heart is broken.
Word Count: 1.5k
October Masterlist
âźâ˝â・°⧠â§â°・âžâź
You watched Lucien as he pulled back the string of his bow, his russet eye unwavering and focused on the target.
His long, fiery hair was pulled back, secured to keep it out of his face. His tan skin was golden under the setting sun.
And his face. His beautiful face. You had missed being able to see his whole face.
Once Tamlin got Feyre back from the Night Court, you would need to thank her for setting everyone free from Amarantha, simply because you could see Lucien's face again.
He let the string go, and you watched in anticipation, your eyes following the arrow until it buried itself right in the center of the target.
"I win," Lucien grinned, turning his smug attention towards you.
"It was close," you grumbled, crossing your arms.
"It was," he agreed with a nod. "But not close enough. I win."
You rolled your eyes, but had to bite your lip to keep back a smile. You watched his muscled form as he walked toward the target, collecting the arrows and placing them back in his quiver.
"It's getting dark, Y/N/N" he observed as he neared you again. "Your father will be waiting for you."
"Yes, I'm aware," you sighed.
Your father would be waiting at the manor, getting his horse ready to take the two of you back to the village. He would likely scold you for participating in such an unbecoming activity, but he knew very well what to expect from you, by now. A part of him would always secretly love you for it.
It wasn't that you refused to be a proper lady. You loved wearing dresses and spending your time with other females. You enjoyed cooking, didn't even mind taking over the house chores. And you had surprisingly proper etiquette for a poor village girl.
You could act like a lady with no complaints when the occasion called for it. But you needed a balance.
You needed adventure, and excitement. And you did not want to act like a proper lady all of the time.
The Fae in your village had always sneered about you when you were a child, gossiping when they saw you coming home covered in mud, climbing a tree, or playing with the other boys.
"It's because she doesn't have a mother," they would say. "A male cannot raise a lady on his own."
But your mother had died in childbirth. That wasn't your father's fault. Nor was it yours, as he always insisted.
âźâ˝â・°⧠â§â°・âžâź
You woke bright and early the next morning to go back to the manor with your father. You rode on horseback together, every morning since you were a child.
Your father worked as one of Tamlin's sentries. Since you had no mother to watch you, he began taking you with him since he first got the job, when you were just a toddler.
Once you were old enough to watch yourself, you realized you loved going with him so much, you didn't want to stop.
It wasn't until two centuries ago that Lucien arrived. The second your eyes met, you had fallen head over heels for him. But he hadn't shown any interest in you, not like that. So you settled for being his friend.
He was the closest friend you'd ever had. He was only a decade older than you, and he had a dry sense of humor that you loved. He let you hunt with him, and challenged you to competitions of all sorts. He didn't care that you were a lady, and he didn't expect you to act like one.
When you arrived to the manor, you were informed that Tamlin and Lucien were taking care of business. You ignored the disappointment that settled in your gut.
Before Lucien, you had spent a lot of your days in the library of the manor. One of the Lesser Fae servants had even taught you to read there.
You settled in by the fireplace, reading an adventure novel you had loved when you were young. Every now and then, you reread it to remind yourself of the simple innocence of childhood.
When you had finished the short book, you sighed, stretching out your limbs, and getting to your feet.
You decided to venture out into the manor, just to see if Lucien had returned from the business he was attending to.
Your shoes clacked against the marble floors of the manor, until you found Lucien sitting alone in the dining room. He was not eating; he was just sitting there, staring at the table.
"Lu?" you asked, frowning as you approached him. "Is everything alright?"
"I'm fine, Y/N," he murmured, the words unconvincing. Your brows furrowed. He very rarely called you by your full name.
"You don't seem fine," you said, sitting in the chair next to him.
"Just leave me alone," he nearly whispered, not even glancing up to meet your eyes.
"Lu--" you began, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't touch me," he snapped, snarling and shaking your hand off of him.
You flinched, eyes going wide. He had never raised his voice at you, nor had he ever spoken to you in such a disrespectful manner.
"I'm sorry," you said quietly.
"Just leave," he repeated, voice breaking.
âźâ˝â・°⧠â§â°・âžâź
You couldn't sleep that night. You tossed and turned, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you had done wrong. But you could think of nothing.
You were hesitant to return to the manor the next day, but you did. You made to decision to seek out Tamlin, and ask if Lucien had mentioned anything to him.
You and Tamlin had never been close, but he'd known you since you were a toddler. He had a soft spot for you. He had made sure to buy more children's books for the library, and he always let you eat whatever you wanted from the kitchens. When you were young, he made sure to assign a servant to watch you everyday.
As you neared his study, the sound of voices inside carried out to you. You stepped closely warily, pressing your ear to the door.
"You'll have to put up with her for a bit longer," Tamlin was saying.
"I can't fucking stand her. Don't you think I've had to put up with her for long enough?" was Lucien's harsh reply.
You flinched, the words cutting deep. Did he mean you? You always thought he enjoyed your time together.
"She is our guest," Tamlin snarled. "We have offered her hospitality, and you will be civil to her."
"You have no idea just how insufferable she is!" Lucien snapped. "She never leaves me alone. She's always right there. I fucking hate it, Tamlin."
You had heard enough. You felt sick to your stomach. You pulled away from the door, tears lining your eyes as you quietly walked away.
âźâ˝â・°⧠â§â°・âžâź
You went back to next day, only because you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of avoiding him. Not after everything he had said about you.
Your father had questioned you when your tears had begun to fall on the ride over. But you insisted that you were okay. He was still concerned, but he knew better than to push.
You spent the day in the library again, reading something new, this time. You wiped your tears and sniffled through the entire book.
"Y/N/N?" you heard. The first sound you'd heard in hours.
You glanced up, meeting Lucien's russet eye. Your shoulders slumped, your lip trembling pathetically at the mere sight of him.
"I wanted to apologize for the other day," he said calmly. "I was cold to you, and I shouldn't have raised my voice. I'm sorry."
"Are you apologizing because you're sorry, or because Tamlin is making you?" you challenged, eyes welling with tears of hurt and fury.
"What?" he asked, his face twisting in an expression of genuine confusion.
"I heard you talking to him yesterday," you scoffed. "You said you didn't want to put up with me anymore, and that I was insufferable."
His brows furrowed for a moment, then clarity fell upon his face. He sighed, shaking his head and approaching the couch you were sitting on.
"I wasn't talking about you, Y/N/N," he assured you.
"Who else could you have possibly been talking about?" you demanded.
"Ianthe," he explained. "She doesn't leave me alone. And she's very pushy. I can't stand her."
You frowned, recalling the words that were said. Yes, it did make sense for them to be about Ianthe.
"Oh," you said weakly, cheeks heating.
"I would never say or think such things about you," he promised, placing a hand on your warm cheek. "You mean everything to me."
"Really?" you whispered, meeting his eye.
"Yes," he nodded. "The other day, I was upset because of Ianthe, not you. I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair. I'm sorry."
"I forgive you," you said. "I'm sorry for the way Ianthe is treating you."
He shrugged, though something skin to pain flashed in his eyes. You reached out, cupping his face like he was doing to you.
He smiled softly, leaning in a planting a kiss on your lips. Surprise rendered you frozen at first, but then, you relaxed against his lips. And you kissed him back.
âźâ˝â・°⧠â§â°・âžâź
Kink/Fluff/Angstober Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @danikamariemain @book-obsessed124 @winchesterbbygrl @kissesfrommads @binnieonabike @fourthwing4ever @ghostslittlegf @mollygetssherlockcoffee @hawke1917 @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @honk4emoboys @rogerbarnesxx @a-courtof-azriel @kodokunarisu-blog @dxjaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @littlepippilongstocking
Lucien Taglist: @roxan1930
General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @anneas11 @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking @effervescentbutterfly
comment to be added to any of the taglists!
âźâ˝â・°⧠â§â°・âžâź
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#lucien x reader#lucien acotar#lucien vanserra#my fox lord#pro lucien vanserra#pro lucien#lucien x you#lucien x oc#lucien x y/n#spring court#tamlin#tamlin acotar#angstober#light angst#prythian#acotar x reader#miscommunication#lucien x reader angst#lucien angst#lucien vanserra x reader#lucien vanserra x you#lucien vanserra angst#lucien vanserra x reader angst#angstober 2024#acotar angstober
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First for Everything
Warnings: captivity, restraints, muzzle, torture, defiant whumpee, sensory deprivation
Whumper walked down the long hallway to the room they had locked Whumpee in almost twenty-four hours ago. They had thought Whumpee would have been easy to break.
They were wrong.
Not only was Whumpee bratty and defiant with their words, they also tried to fight Whumper with every breath they had. It was only after Whumpee had spat on Whumper five times and tried to bite Whumper three times that Whumper had decided they only had one course of action.
"You leave me no choice, Whumpee. This could have been far more pleasant for you." Whumper fastened the muzzle on Whumpee's face, tightening the straps painfully tight. "I would have been much more gentle if you had been a little nicer."
Whumpee glared at Whumper, growling through the muzzle. But they couldn't bite or spit. Whumper double checked the shackles around Whumpee's wrists. "I'm going to let you think on this for a bit," Whumper said as they headed towards the door. The windowless room had no source of light save the bulbs overhead. The walls were padded and all sound from the outside world was muffled. "You think good and hard about what you want to do the next time I come in, Whumpee."
Whumper left, flicking the light switch off. They chuckled to themself as they walked down the hall. They had muzzled Whumpee and left them alone in the quiet dark. Perhaps Whumpee would break much faster this way.
Sure enough, as Whumper opened the door and flicked on the light switch, they saw Whumpee curled around themself, completely silent and still. "Well, good morning, Whumpee."
Whumpee didn't acknowledge their presence. Whumpee stared off into space.
"Well, it would seem there's a first for everything," Whumper said as they knelt down in front of Whumpee, "I broke you without having to hurt you. This is most wonderful news because now I can have my fun with you without fear of going too far."
Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump
@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe
@artisticdemon
#serickswrites#whump#whump community#whumpblr#whump writing#tw captivity#tw restraints#tw torture#tw muzzle#tw sensory deprivation#defiant whumpee#whumptober2024#no. 27#prompt: muzzle#fic#oc#angstober 2024#day 27#prompt: curled up#ailesswhumptober2024#day 7#prompt: âWell there's a first for everythingâ
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hi everyone! i've truly wanted to do this for such a long time and i finally decided to step up on it so i'll give it a try! this year i'll be using @angstober's prompts (and banner), and while i don't expect this to blow up, i hope someone will appreciate it as much as i do!
RULES: i'll be writing only for haikyuu! and jjk! also, most of these will not be proof-written since i'll almost write daily (so sorry in advance). afab!reader, no use of y/n, and although every drabble/fic will consider mdni and tws, i won't be blocking anyone,, y'all responsible for what you read and honestly idc as long as you enjoy it lol
MASTERLIST:
DAY 1: "AGAIN" ft. toru oikawa
DAY 2: COUNTDOWN ft kento nanami
DAY 3: SELF DESTRUCTION ft satoru gojo
DAY 4: BLOOD ft yuta okkotsu
DAY 5: "DO BETTER" ft kozume kenma
DAY 6: MEDICATION ft megumi fushiguro
DAY 7: "YOU STILL DON'T GET IT" ft toji fushiguro
DAY 8: GROWING PAINS ft koshi sugawara
DAY 9: "PROMISE" ft suguru geto
DAY 10: HUMILIATION ft rintaro suna
DAY 11: "WAKE UP" ft toge inumaki
DAY 12: ROTTEN TOUCH ft ryomen sukuna
DAY 13: SHAKING ft yuji itadori
DAY 14: "ONLY AROUND YOU" ft kei tsukishima
DAY 15: FALSE HOPE ft ryomen sukuna
DAY 16: NO ONE ELSE TO TURN TO ft satoru gojo
DAY 17: "SHHH..." ft tetsuro kuroo
DAY 18: FALLING STARS ft shoyo hinata
DAY 19: TEAR-STAINED CHEEK ft tobio kageyama
DAY 20: "SPARE ME" ft toji fushiguro
DAY 21: ABANDONED ft oikawa toru
DAY 22: CROCODILE TEARS ft atsumu miya
DAY 23: SAFE/UNSAFE ft megumi fushiguro
DAY 24: DARK SUNRISE ft kento nanami
DAY 25: "YOU'RE NO BETTER" ft kei tsukishima
DAY 26: PERSUASION ft suguru geto
DAY 27: CURLED UP ft tadashi yamaguchi
DAY 28: PERFECT ft choso kamo
DAY 29: "GET OUT" ft rintaro suna
DAY 30: "NOTHING ELSE TO TELL YOU" ft megumi fushiguro
DAY 31: "IT ENDS HERE" ft satoru gojo
feel free to reach out anytime, and i really hope you stay!
sincerely,
oikawaweon<3
#angstober#angstober 2024#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#hq#jjk smut#jjk angst#haikyuu#haikyuu angst#haikyuu smut#kinktober#jjk x reader#haikyuu x reader
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Damn, here's to hoping it won't end in tragedy.
Reborn
Summary: Jason did what he swore he'd never curse upon anyone. It just so happened to be you he cursed in the process.
Word Count: 2.3K
Notes: Character death, greivous injury, language. I was actually so happy writing this one, I was thinking I was going to struggle with the prompt but it actually came to me with a lot less struggle than I was expecting. I'm a big Jason girlie so maybe this had a trace of self indulgence in there.
âââââââââââââŕźťâŕźşââââââââââââââ
"Hurry the fuck up!" Jason yells at Tim, hands pressed on the centre of your chest, blood trickling through his fingers. He hates the way the warm liquid seeps into the fabric of his gloves, sticky and wet.
"I'm trying the best I can," Tim grits back out, relaying something through their coms line while he runs to your side, dropping to his knees beside your body in the car wreckage. "HolyâŚ" he breathes out, eyes flicking over your form in concern. Your eyes are hazy and your face is ashy, paling from the blood loss.
"Jason, I don't think we-" he says, picking up one of your limp hands in his own, looking to his adoptive brother with pity.
"Shut up and do it."Â Jason grits back.
He wasn't going to lose you. Not like this. Not before him, not because of him.
Drop you to work, that's all he was going to do. That's all he was going to do. It was late at night, and he had patrol anyways. You were going in for a trial shift that night at the security company, something that could land you an executive manager role and get you out of that shitty job waiting tables. Something that could get both of you into a better apartment, more independent, the start of your life together. When you first started dating he was more than happy to throw Bruce's money around, the billionaire had more than he needed anyways, he wasn't going to miss it. Yet you had begun refusing after the first month, saying you wanted to be independent, and he fell in love right there.
And is this where it got you?
No. That was still all him. He had picked you up in a simple car since he was staking out some gang causing issues around West End and needed to go on stakeout. No reinforced glass, no secret bat gadget hidden in the glove compartment, just some tinted windows. So, who even saw you getting into his car? Well, what was supposed to be just dropping you at work turned into a car chase while you held onto anything you could, screaming in terror. It wasn't often that Jason would be the one getting chased, and under any other circumstances he would have thrown the car into gear and flipped the tables on them.
But you were in the car.
So, he threw it into reverse and ran as fast as he could. It had all been for vain, a burst tire and shattered windshield sent the car spinning out to a side street, flipping as it hit the curb. The screech of metal was deafening to his ears, the crunch of glass ringing out around him as the world flipped one⌠twoâŚthreeâŚtimes.
His lungs burnt as he struggled to escape from the seatbelt, head throbbing from the collision on the dash before he looked over to you. His heart stopped in his chest, unable to even respond to the calls of Red Robin over his com link, who he had contacted the moment a gun had been fired at the two of you. "Sweetheart?" his voice cracked slightly, unable to go louder over the ball of fear in his throat. You didnât respond as he clambered from his seat, arms coming around your back to support you and drag you from the car. he hated the way the image of you, splayed over the glass covered dash, had burnt into the deepest part of his mind. He had dragged you to the shelter of the car, blood boiling in his veins.
Anyone who had come to follow up was laid across the floor in seconds, Jason standing in front of your body like a guard dog. He blocked as much of your features as he could, taking out each gang member that came to inspect the crash with frightening efficiency. By the time Red Robin had arrived on the scene, Jason was already cradling your body in the shadow of the car, desperately trying to stop the bleeding from the bullet wound in your sternum. The bullet wound that he might as well have put there himself.
This was his fault.
"This isn't your fault, Hood." Tim says, laying his other hand on Jason's shoulder, muscled tensed and ready to snap. "None of us could have predicted-"
"Shut up and help," he hissed, fighting to stop himself from crying behind his mask. He hadn't felt this terrified since he was a kid, back in that warehouse. He was stronger than that now. Strong enough that surely, he could help you.
Jason wasnât oblivious to the pained and pitiful look cast his way. "Hood, they're already gone." he whispers softly, hands coming down to gently cover his still compressed on your chest. Jason shakes his head. "No." he chokes out. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no."
"Yes." Tim says firmly. "I'veâŚI've got the car. I'll bring it round before the GCPD shows. We can handle this. We can take them back to the cave, clean them up like they deserve-"
"I said No." Jason snaps, blood rushing in his ears. He knew you were gone. He could tell from the way your blood went tacky on your chest, the stream trickling into a standstill. The way your face was devoid of colour, making you look shades lighter than he knew you were. Your hands were limp, head tilted. What was the worst was the way your eyes stared up into him, glassy and fogged, as if cracking open his soul.
Why did you kill me?
Why me?
Why didn't you save me?
He knew you wanted to live, god, he knew you loved life. Loved life with him, and he loved it back in return. If only you had been given the chance he once was. "Bring the car." he chokes out, eyes burning with a fierce determination.
"What are you planning?" Tim asks, hesitant as he sees the way Jason's body is coiled, ready to strike.
"We're going to save them." He says softly, hand squeezing your lax one tightly.
God, he just hoped you weren't going to hate him.
âââ ââ
âźâ
â âââ
"So, you tracked us down to ask for our services?" Thalia scoffs, circling the two of them. "Didn't think I'd have two birds on our doorstep, didn't your mentor teach you better?" she says disdainfully, eyes raking over Tim and Jason. Jason just holds your body closer, wrapped in a white sheet and cradled in his arms. Tim shifts uncomfortably, making Thalia's eyes gleam when she detects the weakness. "Oh," she purrs, almost delighted, crowding into Timâs space. "You're off the record."
"This doesn't involve Batman." Jason gruffly says. "This involves me. This is my request."
Thalia's eyes flick back to him, but Jason doesn't flinch. He'd dragged Tim along as an accomplice, going dark on the radar as he returned to the alps, the one place he had sworn to never return to. To do the one thing he had told himself he would never force on anyone.
But he couldn't lose you.
"So, you think you can just show back up and ask to use the pits?" She asks, eyes flicking to your form in his arms. "My, you really are as dumb as you are bold, aren't you?" She hums. Jason remains still, eyes focused on the hooded woman in front of him.
"I'll owe you a favour." he says, without a beat of hesitation.
Red Robin's eyes widen behind him, domino mask unable to hide his surprise. "Hood, are you kidding? you can't just-"
"Shut it." Jason hisses back. "This isn't your decision. This is mine, consequences included."
Tim backs down only slightly. "You know what Batman will say. We can't trust these people; they'll use that favour to burn down Gotham. Think."
Jason tries to, he really does. He tries to see the big picture, but all he can see is fragments of you and your life together that was smashed the second he put you in that passenger seat. "I am." he says softly.
He could walk away now and save Gotham for sure, or he could stay and save his world.
Thalia sidles up to him, lips pulled into a smirk, like a snake rearing its head. "I could do you a deal if that's the case." she says, eyes sparkling like emeralds. "But you have to make good on it. You of all should know how we handle broken promises in the League."
Jason considers it for a second, before steeling himself. There was no other option for him.
"You have a deal."
"I knew bringing you back would be worth it." she smiles, like a cat batting a mouse between its paws. She turns, gesturing for them to follow her with two fingers. "Come." she commands, beginning a clipping pace through the carved stone hideout. Jason follows wordlessly, and Tim soon does a moment after.
"How long have they been dead?" she calls, not even looking back.
"Less than a week." he replies almost immediately. Thalia smiles at that, dark and curious.
"Oh? Snappy, I see. Who exactly is under that blanket to make you run to this corner of the world so quickly?" she grins, stopping at the entrance of a deep set of stairs. She stalks closer, steps echoing and deliberate. With a quick motion she pulls back the sheet from your stiff corpse, eyes raking over your face.
"A lover?" she asks, eyebrows raised at the way Jason holds you closer instinctively.
"None of your business." he replies gruffly, making her roll her eyes.
"We should've taught you how to be subtle." she murmurs, beginning to descend the stairs. He follows into the darkness, shadows beginning to give way to a soft green glow, bouncing off the carved stone walls. Tim takes in the room they step in to at the bottom, a grand, ornate space, yet somehow still appearing crude. Death clings to the atmosphere, cold and uninviting.
"Hood, is this where-" he begins quietly, but Jason cuts him off.
"Yes." he says as he follows Thalia deeper, feet stopping by the edge of the glowing green pool. Panic swirls in his gut, making his senses set themselves on fire. His mind races as he tries to control his own fear, to stop the metallic taste from rising in his throat. Flashes of his own time in the pool pry themselves into the forefront of his memory, making his fists clench in your sheet. He pushes them all down, taking a deep and shaky breath.
This was for you.
"Don't forget, you owe me." Thalia warns, gaze haughty as he kneels by the pool, unwrapping you from your blanket. His heart wrenches seeing your stiff body, eyes still open as if to judge him. When he's untangled the sheet from you, he slowly begins to slip your body into the water, Tim running his hands through his hair in worry behind him.
"JesusâŚ" Tim breathes, anxiety radiating off him as he watches your body submerge under the green glow of the Lazarus Pit. Jason doesn't move from his kneeling position, Thalia beside him as he scans the water for a sign of life, a sign of movement. A sign of you. After a few tense moments, it happens. A hand breaks through the surface, making Tim jump. Your fingers are clawed in pain, but he chooses to focus on the way your colour returns to the digits. You appear from the pit like you're drowning, eyes rolled into the back of your head as you breach the water. Your mouth is open in a wide gasp, screaming in unmeasurable pain. His heart tears itself in two and his stomach is in knots hearing you make that kind of noise, writhing and clawing at your face.
Thalia watches you scream and double over in the pit, making a mocking pout as madness clouds your eyes. "Aww, how cute. You're just like each other, a match made in hell."
"ShitâŚ" Tim exhales, pacing back and forwards behind him. "Batman isn't going to like this. This isn't right, this isn't rightâŚ" he mutters, panic written all over him. Jason drowns both of them out, extending his hand softly towards you, leaning precariously over the waters to gently grip your wrist and guide you his way. He could fix you. he could fix this. He could make it all better.
He guides you until you're in front of him, the familiar burning smell of the Lazarus pit stinging his nose, a smell he struggled to describe yet it haunted him on random nights. His eyes soften under the mask as he sees the panic in your eyes, the shock of coming back paired with the madness fighting to grip your mind. The sound of your cries and screams echoed around the room, a sound so full of pain and fear that he couldn't help but flinch.
He could teach you, the way he was taught. He could help you get your feet back the soft way, a way he wished he could have been offered. He'd do everything in his power to make your second chance as painless as possible. He'd nurse your mind back if that's what it needed, calm the rages late at night if you had them. He'd take you in any form you came to him, growing pains and all. He'd teach you how to live again.
He only hoped that you wouldn't hate him forever for bringing you back.
#messenger of babel#angstober 2024#angstober24#dc comics#fanfic#dc fanfic#dc x reader#angstober#jason todd#dc#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#dc robin#jason todd angst#red hood angst#angst#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x reader angst#red hood x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#day 08#day 8#writing challenge#writing event#< author's tags
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day 20 - skin to skin cuddling [m.murdock]
matt murdock x fem!reader
content warnings; angsty fluff, panic attacks, minor and brief self harm (scratching at face and chest during panic attack), non-sexual nakedness
notes; ngl i kept forgetting that he was blind when i wrote this, so if you notice anything about him seeing smth, no you didnât. very late bc i was v tired
kinktober/flufftober masterlist
âââââ
matthew wished that you werenât like this, not out of any selfish wants, but because he couldnât bare to see the petrified look on your face when your anxiety got the best of you, and your body shut down.
heâd gotten back late from patrolling as the devil, rushing home when heâd gotten close enough to hear your desperate gasps for breath and pounding heartbeat. heâd found you on your knees, upper body curled in on itself and hands clasped over your chest, trying to claw away the terror wracking over you.
heâd knelt down next to you, purposefully breathing loud and slow, hoping youâd eventually be able to copy his pattern. he hated the way his blood soaked hands tarnished your soft face, crimson smearing over salt-stained cheeks when he begged you to calm down, wanting you to focus on his face instead of whatever thoughts your anxiety had gripped its claws into tonight.
you blubbered out apologies, voice cracking as you begged for him to make it stop. you dug your sharp nails into your face, dragging them down to your chest, desperately attempting to bring yourself out of your panic with pain.
he quickly grasped your arms, large hands smothering yours, hoping that youâd use him instead. blood trickled from the thin cuts, split flesh reddening as you cried out, squirming in his hold.
âbreathe with me, slowly, honey,â
he took a big, deep breath, counting the seconds in his head, before holding it for four, then exhaling. he repeated that over and over again, patiently waiting for you to copy him, squeezing your hands in gentle encouragement when you eventually did.
the two of you breathed together for a long time, your heart steadily calming down as shakes began to wrack your body, exhaustion flooding over you.
he never stopped the exaggeration of his breaths, waiting for you to be ready to move, knowing that any unwelcome touches or movements could set you off again, that you needed to be in control after going through something so debilitating, stripping you of all your power.
eventually, you lifted up slightly, only having enough energy to whisper a soft âbed pleaseâ, clinging desperately to him the best you could in your exhausted state.
he picked you up, careful to hold your head against his shoulder so you wouldnât lull it backwards, walking over to his bed and placing you down on it. he could smell the iron on your clothing and skin, having transferred off of him.
he kept your same tone, quietly telling you that he was going to take off both your messy clothes, only continuing when you sleepily nodded your consent, hair mussing against the pillow.
he stripped you down completely, then himself before quickly wetting a washcloth in the bathroom, cooing when you whimpered your complaints of him leaving you.
dragging the warm, damp material across your skin, paying special attention to the scratches, wiping away the small droplets of blood that had collected along the lines. he watched some of the tension begin to ebb from your body, previously tense muscles slowly relaxing at the soothing motions, finally feeling safe and secure now that heâd returned home.
he barely bothered with cleaning himself up, deciding that he couldnât bare to be so far from you for even a second longer, figuring that he could just wash the sheets later that day, after youâd had some much deserved rest.
he slid under the covers, bare skin pressed against yours, wrapping his strong arms around you. you sighed contentedly, breath warming his chest as you thoroughly attached yourself to him, snuggling forwards to make sure the two of you were as close as possible.
âthank you, matty,â
âitâs okay, always gonna protect my girl, even from herself,â
his hand stroked strands of hair out of your face, thumb sliding down the bridge of your nose, wincing inwardly at the feel of your inflamed skin, metallic scent clinging to the self-inflicted scratches.
kissing the top of your head, he encouraged you to lean into the crook of his neck, face pressed against the tender skin. he rubbed up and down your naked back, intently paying attention to the way your chest expands and contracts, listening to your soft breathing, silently praying that it wouldnât begin to pick up again.
of course, he wished that you didnât have to go through this, hating every second that you gasped for breath, despising that your mind was reeling with self-deprecating thoughts and worries of terrible things that most likely would never happen. but, he did selfishly love the moments after, where you were too tired to resist his doting on you, where you let him take care of you fully and you would spend hours wrapped up in his arms.
he fell asleep to your soft snores against his chest, limbs still entangled together as he heard the city begin to wake, falling into a deep slumber with nothing to worry about but you.
#matt murdock#matthew murdock#matt murdock x you#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fluff#hurt/comfort#matt murdock drabble#matt murdock fanfic#fluff#angst#angst to fluff#angst then fluff#flufftober#flufftober 24#flufftober 2024#angstober#angstober 2024#my works#my work#angstober 24
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humiliation â aemond targaryen x niece!reader
a/n: bro, for real, i canât believe iâm posting day 10 - humiliation (@angstober) on the right day. seriously. iâm so fucking proud of myself! anyway, this can be read as a stand alone or a prequel to growing pains (aka day 08). and let me know what you think!Â
masterlist
summary: we donât choose our family, but we choose how we do politics.Â
word count: 2kÂ
warnings: angst. slight sexual harassment. arranged marriage. implied targaryen incest (uncle/niece). aegon is an asshole.
It didnât matter you were as much of a royal as they, as much of a Targaryen as they were. It didnât matter if you rode a dragon and had silver hair. You were still the half-sister of Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey, and that was enough for the Greens to treat you like a jester in court.Â
Queen Alicent was not blatantly hostile towards you, but she was not friendly either. You saw the way she side-eyed you, that her father looked you up and down. Whilst her quarrel was with your mother, the Handâs mind was much more cunning. He saw you as a piece not yet allocated in his board. Fortunately for him, you were sent as a bona fide present to court after your mother relocated to Dragonstone.
Your grandsire, the King, barely looked at you. Of course, he was terribly ill. Still, you were certain he just didnât like the reminder his daughter was wed to, and clearing bedding his brother.Â
As a young woman of a certain age, you knew whenever someone did the math, it was clear your parents conceived you before they were properly wed. The timeline was confusing, and you were undoubtedly the child of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, but were they or were they not wed at the time of your birth? Were you a bastard in technical terms?
To you, it didnât matter at all. For some, well, that was a point of conversation constantly brought up.Â
âUncles and their nieces seem not to be bound by rules of wedlock, isnât that right, Princess?â, a drunken Aegon moved his hand towards your leg at the dinner table. You slapped it away instantly, frowning towards him.Â
His mother sighed, and his wife wasnât paying attention.
âPrince Aegon, you ought to respect the Princessâ, Otto Hightower said. You read between the lines. Her father will assassinate you. Your own father will disown you.Â
Your gaze met Ottoâs, and you nodded once, recognizing his attempts at decency.Â
âPlease, grandfatherâ, Aegonâs hand moved towards your face, and you deflected. He still managed to toy with a single lock of your hair. âShe likes itâ.
Once more, you removed his hand. Right now, silence was your finest ally. Enticing Aegon would only make him grow angry towards you or worse, take it out on sweet Helaena. How could Aegon be such an arse? His siblings sure werenât as terrible.
Helaena was a good friend, and ever since giving birth she had grown even kinder, albeit a little weird. You and Daeron were closer in age, and he was ever courteous.Â
And then there was Aemond. You had never seen a man so torn between the darkness and the light within themselves, except only, perhaps, for your own father. And when it came to your father, you only ever saw the good in him, and these horrible things he supposedly did were only stories. That wasnât the case with Aemond.
You had seen him come and go from brothels, harm servants unnecessarily and even have you at the end of his insults. He could be a monster, prone to humiliating your brothers or even you yourself when he was threatened, and he seemed glad in causing chaos.Â
But he was also loving. He would defend you from Aegon and others sometimes, even. He was the first to take you dancing, and he would be on the floor with you even past his feet hurt. He had taken it upon himself to make sure you became fluent in High Valyrian, a task your mother herself had given up on. After you first claimed a dragon, he flew many times with you, and all of the smallfolk made sure to watch when you took the skies together, as it was quite the sight.Â
You were expecting him to defend you from Aegon right now, instead, he just quietly moved his food around his plate with his fork.Â
âI often wish we could go back to Sunspear, Helaenaâ, you changed the subject. Your aunt, who seemed to be in a totally different world, looked at you alarmed. âDo you remember?â, you continued, stretching to see over Aegon and look directly into your auntâs eyes. âThe weather agreed with me much more than the rainâ.
âMaybe we could see Daeron, tooâ, Helaena seemed excited for once. You didnât have it in you to tell her Sunspear and Old Town were a far ride from each other.
âWe should take the Cannibal and Dreamfyre and goâ, you said, already smiling at the prospect. The smiles died when you mentioned your dragon, who seemed to be aggressive to all but you and, eventually, Vhagar.
âOh, dear, I donât think either of you should leave nowâ, Queen Alicent stated, voice sweet.Â
âAnd whyâs that, mother?â, it was Aemondâs turn to speak, for the first time during the whole supper. His head turned to look at his mother, who was in her usual seat besides the Kingâs seat, which lay empty. Viserys was much too ill and in too much pain. âAssociating your daughter with the scandalous child of a scandalous mother is crossing a line?â.
The silence was deadly.Â
You knew Aemond well enough to know the problem wasnât with Helaena and you dreaming of Dorne.
Your eyes darted from Aemond to Alicent, and then to Otto. They all knew something they didnât let out yet.
And every bone in your body told you â whatever it was they werenât letting out, well, it was about you.Â
Aemond stood up like a bolt and excused himself, marching angrily away.Â
You had to find out what was going on, but leaving now would only bring more attention to both you and the matter, and it also meant dealing with an aggravated Aemond. Bad idea.Â
After dinner, waiting until the dead of night and sneaking into your Uncleâs room to get the truth out of him? Sounds perfectly reasonable.Â
Aemond was sitting, looking unbothered. You walked in from the secret passageway that connected most of the Red Keep, and he didnât seem surprised at all. He looked like a true Targaryen Prince.
âTook you long enoughâ, he was examining his nails, and then his one lilac eye turned towards you.Â
âI wasnât aware we had an arrangementâ.Â
âYet here you areâ.Â
You smiled softly, not showing any teeth. A conversation like this with Aemond could go in any direction, and, with your experience, you knew it was best to appear submissive.
âYou have been informed your name is a constant in the Small Council, havenât you, niece?â.
You raised your eyebrows, entering his chambers nonchalantly. With the Kingâs health deteriorating and talks of succession rising once more, you, the daughter of the heir apparent, were as valuable as gold. Of course you knew you were talked about often, and Aemond knew this as well. Therefore, you didnât reply. He wanted to make a point, so he was going to make it.Â
âThereâs been talks about your futureâ, Aemond continued, leaning forward as you sat across from him in the room. âMatrimonial matters have been raisedâ.
You gasped. You tried not to, but you did. Your mother swore you would have a say in who your husband was. Surely she hadnât delegated this matter to the Queen. Which meant you would be given as a shine prize to a nobleman, and he would consummate the marriage before your mother was even made aware of it.Â
You felt sick.Â
âDonât worry. Aegon is not taking a second wifeâ, the smile could be heard in Aemondâs voice. You scoffed and turned to him.
âIs that all?â
âMy grandfather wished to have you wed Daeronâ. Your eyes widened. Certainly not a good match. Daeron was kind and sweet, but he lived distantly. You would not be sent to Old Town, thereâd be no convincing you of that. âMy mother opposed, of courseâ.
âHow could the always just Queen Alicent have her child married to the child of the âscandalousâ princess Rhaenyra, right?â, you mocked and copied his words from dinner earlier. Aemond constantly looked angry, but now he looked just annoyed.
âThereâs that, yes. Also, itâs not politically wiseâ, he continued. âCregan Stark would be a better match, perhaps even a dornish man, since you seem so fond of those wildlingsâ.Â
âMake your point, Uncle. Who am I to marry?â
âIt hasnât been decidedâ, he turned to you. âThereâs a problem with your family, you seeâ.
âOur familyâ, you corrected. Whether he willed it or no, Aemond Targaryen was the younger brother of your mother, and he would have to live as such.Â
Your uncleâs eye narrowed, then went back to normal. Sitting across from each other, you seemed almost the same height. His gaze went from your eyes to your neck, then chest, then covered legs, darting upwards to the ceiling quickly as he let his body fall even more on the sofa. He breathed deeply. âYes, dear niece. Our familyâ.
âYou should take meâ, you said, without thinking. You thought too much, and a marriage between the Greens and the Blacks would be interesting for both, assuring both sides of the family were united. Wasnât that the way your family did business? Marrying off their daughters?Â
Out of this entire planet, Aemond was the only man youâd met that youâd be willing to marry. The rest were brutes, disgustingly aggressive or simply dumb.
From the look in his eyes, you knew Aemond was thinking about it. Your breath got caught in your throat. He surely had thought about it before, right? You were a beautiful girl, you knew this, and Aemond had a thing for women with silver hair. All men in Kingâs Landing wished they could have you, why would Aemond be any different?Â
You kept forgetting that Aemond was, in fact, different.Â
âI couldnât wed you, nieceâ, he said, mouth a thin line. Your heart was racing in your chest. âWhat would we have? Not the throne, not even Dragonstoneâ.Â
âEach otherâ, you replied harshly, fighting the tears in your eyes. âWeâd have each otherâ.
âThatâs not enoughâ.
The sheer humiliation that you felt was enough to make you stand up and motion towards the door. But you couldnât leave through the front door, could you? Your reputation would be ruined forever.
So, with your heart simultaneously beating fast and not beating at all, you just stood there in the middle of Aemondâs chambers. You didnât want to look back at him, but you had to turn to make your way out where you came.
You hadnât heard Aemond, who quietly made his way to you, and was now towering above you. Your eyes locked, breaths mixing. If you were to stand on your tiptoes, your lips would almost reach his. Almost.
The problem with Aemond was this constant streak of âalmostsâ. You were sure his reasons for not marrying you were political more than anything else, and it pained you to know that the legitimacy of your brothers was a matter even now, when yours wasnât. Your mother and her decisions⌠It had humiliated you once more.Â
Your heart was beating so loudly you feared he could hear it from this distance. Still close enough so you could feel his breath, Aemond muttered in Valyrian, even though you were alone âAo issi naejot jikagon sir (You should go now)â.
Quietly, with feelings of humiliation and something else you couldnât quite name, you stepped away as you did as your uncle commanded, and left.Â
#day 10#angstober 2024#angstober#targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd aemond#aemond x you#angst#aemond targaryen x reader smut#aemond x reader smut#hotd aemond x reader#ewan mitchell#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#house hightower#house targaryen#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#fiction#writers on tumblr#targaryen incest#daemon targaryen#valyrian#high valyrian
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Sweet Talker | L.HS
ăpromptă : persuasion ăpairingă : bf!heeseung x fem!reader ăword countă : 0.8k
ăsynopsisă : you and heeseung were never good for each other, but no matter how many times youâve tried to leave, he would find some way to persuade you to stay just a little longer.
ăgenreă : angst
ăwarningsă : DARK THEMES!!!, heeseung is manipulative asf!, mentions of violence and blood, metal abuse/manipulation, gaslighting, threatening, pls pls lmk if I missed anything!!!!
ănotesă : this fic can be SEVERELY triggering for certain people, so please, for the love of god, make sure to read the warnings, and if you still proceed to read, be cautious!!! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO READ!!!
masterlist â navi. â angstober list
You and Heeseung were like fire to ice, bound to only bring one another destruction. Yet, you could never leave, no matter how much you wanted to. Even when you promised your friends that you would finally end things, you never did. The excuse is always the same, but the light in your eyes dimmer every time.
âHe told me that he would change.â That was the exact seven words that you would tell everyone, but in reality, Heeseung never changed. At least not in the way that you wanted him to; no if anything, the way he treated you got worse.
He never once physically put his hands on you; he believed that he was above that. But god, was he a complete mastermind when it came to mental manipulation. And he would do absolutely anything to make you stay with him, no matter the cost.
Just like today, when you came home to find him sitting at your kitchen table, wiping blood off of his busted knuckles. Your stomach dropped as you took in the sight, fear etching itself into your entire being as you sat your bag and keys on the counter.
âYouâre back!â He greeted you with a wide grin, glancing up at you, and you nodded, lips curling inward. âGot into a bit of a fight with your friend, Jay, was it. Youâll help me bandage these, wonât you?â You felt your blood run cold at the mention of your best friend's name, eyes growing wide as you took in Heeseungâs appearance. There wasnât a single scratch on him besides the busted lip he suited and bloody knuckles.
This means that Jay had to have been worse, and it made your stomach turn at the thought of what could have possibly happened.
âY/n.â Heeseungâs voice pulled you out of your thoughts, causing your head to snap in his direction, tears pooling along your waterline. âCome help me,â he held up the first-aid kit, a smile on his lips, but you knew it was just a front, and you knew that you really shouldnât push his buttons. âPlease.â
Swallowing thickly, you walked over to the table and took the empty seat next to him, grabbing the first-aid kit. You kept your head down, refusing to meet his eyes as you worked on bandaging his hands.
Heeseung watched you with a keen eye, the corner of his lip twitching slightly when you pressed a little too hard on his knuckles before wrapping it. He let out a sigh, causing your body to tense, unsure of what he was going to say next.
âDonât you see?â He asked, his voice cold as his hand gently grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. Your heart lurched in your chest when your eyes locked, âweâre meant to be together. Thatâs why Iâm willing to do whatever it takes to keep us together.â His voice was like a forbidden melody, something you knew you shouldnât be listening to but couldn't help but be drawn in.
âI-I know.â You stuttered, eyes searching his face as your hands balled into fists in your lap, heart thumping against your ribs.
Heeseung smiled sweetly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his head tilted slightly. "Good girl,â he said.
And he would have you in the palm of his hand once more, forever tied to him all because you could never escape his sweet words.
âNow you know that you canât hang out with him ever again. Iâd hate to put him in the hospital again.â He pouted, feigning sadness as you looked at him with fear-filled eyes.
You nodded, unsure if you could even speak without all of the contents in your stomach coming back out. There was no way you could speak to any of your friends again, not if they were going to be put in harm's way because of Heeseung. So you could only agree in hopes that you would be able to keep all of your friends safe.
âI know, Hee. I wonât hang out with him or any of them again.â You promised, biting back tears as he smiled at you before leaning close. Your stomach turned violently as his lips pressed against your forehead, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you into him. He wrapped his arms around you, trapping your body against his in an embrace.
âSee, I knew you would understand.â He praised you, running his fingers through your hair and it took everything in you to not burst out into tears.
You were too far into the wolf's den and couldnât see the light anymore, but you knew that you could keep your friends safe this way, at least. And thatâs what mattered to you the most. Even if you would be suffering for god, who knows how long.
@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
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#đৠđđđ đđđđđđ#lee heesung#heeseung#enha#enhypen#heeseung angst#lee heeseung angst#enha angst#enhypen angst#angst#angstober#angstober 2024#kpop#kpop angst#heeseung x reader#lee heeseung x reader#enha x reader#enhypen x reader#reader x heeseung#reader x lee heeseung#reader x enha#reader x enhypen#enha fanfic#enhypen fanfic#heeseung fanfic#fanfic#angsty
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Again.
He'll do it again, over and over and over because he has to. If he adjusts the somatic component just slightly-
Rolan casts Thunderwave again, and it strains his already weary body. He's been practicing the same spell for hours, but the results remain the same, if not weaker than before each time. It angers him that he can't do this right. Why can't he do it? He's supposed to an Archmage for gods sake! He's supposed to be better by now, after all this practice and his intricate studies, he has to be better.
It can't be all for nothing.
Again.
This time, the spell utterly fails as he shouts in pain, the muscles in his hands finally straining.
"Useless boy," Lorroakan tuts in his head, "Unable to take a little pain? Do you think your opponent will let you catch your breath?"
That man won't stop talking, and he fights the stinging wetness in his eyes as he collapses to his knees, pulling his hands into his chest. They hurt, more than they should. The joints are numb and he can't feel the tips of his fingers. No, no, he can't lose the weave, it's all he has, it's all he has.
Bile threatens to touch his throat, and he feels as though he's going to vomit any minute. The study room is fuzzy, his eyes hurt, his chest is too tight-
He has to do it again. He needs to protect his family, he can't fail. He can't. He needs to cast it again-
"Love," a voice calls out, and it's right next to him.
His head turns into a cupped hand, Tav's thumb wiping a stray tear that managed to escape him.
"My hands-" he wheezes out, having trouble finding breath.
"Let me see."
His troublesome hands shake as he holds them up, and Tav quietly looks them over as he tries to calm from his panic. "They're strained, love, you've been overworking them," they say, gently massaging them.
"The spell needs to be better. I have-" he swallows, "I have to protect you."
"You've already done that, Rolan."
"He hurt you."
"And he's dead. Lorroakan can't hurt me," they murmur, hand moving away from his own to tilt his head up, "and he can't hurt you. We're fine, my love. You need to sleep, you've been up too long."
"I can't-"
"Yes you can, we're okay," they plant a kiss to his forehead and nose, "you're allowed to rest."
He suddenly pulls away and stands up, surprising them as he snaps. "You should go to bed, I need to get this right."
"Rolan-"
"Go to bed. I'll be...I'll be right behind you." He mutters dismissively, grabbing a book to look through the components again.
He doesn't see the way Tav reaches out to him, and how they hesitate before giving up, leaving the room. He doesn't see the tears, or how they hug themselves as they shut the door.
Even with the pain in his hands, he gets ready to cast Thunderwave again. One more time, just one more time.
Again.
#forest-writes#angstober#angstober 2024#rolan#holy rolan empire#bg3 rolan#rolan bg3#rolan x tav#writing blurb
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