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norikuna · 6 days ago

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SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #works #gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #lmfao i was meant to post this 3 days agoooooo

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lizzybeeee · 2 months ago

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DATV Spoilers - The Story We Lost

Posted earlier that I was compiling a list of lore/story threads that have been dropped with DATV's handling of Southern Thedas. The sheer number of things means that I've made this into two parts - this one focusing on all the story threads that have been effectively dropped.

Spoilers for the game ahead, of course.

If you've played the game then you'll know that Southern Thedas - everything from the past three games - was basically swept away by the blight.

A double blight should have catastrophic consequences for the entirety of Thedas, I don’t deny that, it’s nothing short of a mass extinction event – the absolute worst case scenario for all of Thedas.

However, waving away the fact that Southern Thedas - specifically every area you ever traveled to and interacted with in previous games – is gone, devastated by the blight, in a codex entry and line of dialogue makes it abundantly clear that BioWare is attempting to clean the slate so that they can move forwards with the game series with no ties to the previous ones.

The Warden, Hawke, and the Inquisitor effectively accomplished nothing.

As I put it in another post: I never expected them to consider every decision in game outside of the three options they gave us, but I certainly didn’t expect them to go scorched earth on the possibility of ever seeing the results of those decisions either.

How the lore has been handled in this game, summarized to “the elves did it” and “there’s been a shadowy organization in the shadows pulling the strings on everything” is absolutely devastating to the franchise.

The lack of care with which this was treated just bleeds, “There, we’ve answered all questions and finished with this era of Thedas. Moving on now.” At the same time, this destruction absolutely obliterated whatever story threads remained from the first three games.

Could BioWare bring these threads back? Yes, I suppose. But it doesn't change that it was so carelessly thrown aside in the first place.

If they didn't want people to care about their decisions and the impact they made on the world, perhaps they shouldn't have made that a feature of all the previous games.

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Story Threads/ Plot Points that were dropped:

Limited my points to what was in the Dragon Age Keep and what points were brought up frequently in codex entries, conversations, etc...

Edit: I never expected all of these points to be answered in DATV - this is just a list of what was effectively brushed to the side through very bad handling of lore and story.

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Dragon Age: Origins

What is the line of succession in Ferelden?

Things are looking very grim for Ferelden's succession and the Theirin/MacTir line if nothing is done. And nothing was done. The entire plot of DAO literally culminated in resolving this issue, yet no one seems to have learnt a thing from it?

- Anora ruling alone is unmarried with no heir - Alistair ruling alone is unmarried with no heir - Ruling together they have no heir - Alistair and a Cousland Queen have no heir - Anora and a Cousland King-Consort have no heir

The only potential candidate that can fit into several of those world states is Kieran.

Fergus Cousland, according to lore, is the second closest to the throne that is confirmed to be alive in DAI - potentially the brother in-law to the King/Queen of Ferelden.

Ferelden's succession with Alistair as King hinges on whether or not the Warden was able to cure the blight. Alternatively, it is hinted that he may be more resistant since he has dragon blood in him from Calenhad.

The potential implications of Kieran being the bastard son of the King of Ferelden.

Kieran being used as a political pawn to depose Anora using the Theirin bloodline.

DAI took away whatever destiny Kieran had with the Old God soul – that didn’t mean that BioWare had to take away everything else too. Regardless, it doesn't matter. Denerim and Redcliffe have fallen to the Blight - it's unlikely that any of this will ever be brought up again.

2. Did the Warden find a cure?

Unknown. Irrelevant.

Ferelden ended up blighted. Denerim fell. If Ferelden rises from the ashes, it will be without any sign of their influence. Any mention of them will likely be their title alone - no mention of their accomplishments.

3. General Questions about the Landsmeet

What happened to Anora if Alistair is named King? Who rules the teyrnir of Gwaren following the blight?

What happens to Alistair if he's exiled? We know Teagan finds him in DA2 but what happens after?

If Leliana becomes divine does that mean that Connor Guerrin is potentially an heir to Redcliffe?

4. Companion Plot Threads

Morrigan's sisters - the many daughters of Flemeth.

Shale's quest to reverse the process of becoming a golem.

Whatever the hell Nathaniel Howe was going on about when you run into him in DA2 in the blighted thaig.

What, if anything, Avernus leaned from spending a literal age or two studying blighted blood.

5. Zevran's Crusade against the Crows

RIP Zevran's one-man crusade against the Crows and their child slavery ring.

DATV messed up immensely by portraying the Crows as more of a ‘found family’ rather than the horrifically abusive organization it was set up to be.

The very same organization that preys on the weak and disenfranchised - honing them to be tools for the nobles/powerful of Thedas - are now the heroic freedom fighters of Antiva.

The literal decade he spent hunting down the Crows and their leaders is up in flames. No mention in DATV whatsoever.

Wasted a perfectly good opportunity to have a schism in the Crows, with Zevran at the helm of kicking out the antaam, taking in Crows who are are sick of what's happening.

6. The Dwarves of Orzammar

The impact of Bhelen/Harrowmont's reign - ruthless progression verses strict traditionalism

The rumours of an uprising of the casteless dwarves in DAI

Will we ever hear of noble House Brosca or Queen/Lady Rica? Nope.

Will we ever hear of the son that Aeducan can have with Mardy? Nope. (RIP Duncan Jnr - I still love you)

The Anvil of the Void and potential links it may have to the Titans.

If Branka lives what happened to her?

No more fine goods direct from Orzammar

The entire caste system has been simplified by Harding in DATV to effectively be: 'surface dwarves' and 'deep roads' dwarves.

7. The Magisters Sidereal / Awakened Darkspawn

According to a codex in the Descent: one went mad, consumed another, and the final magister fled into the Deep Roads.

Corypheous + Codex Magister + the Architect (most likely) = 4/5 magisters remaining? Possibly?

Reminder that it's hinted that there's an eighth Old God that was struck from the records of Tevinter.

The Architect and his Awakened Darkspawn.

No, it was all the elves. They're all dead now anyway. Thanks BioWare.

8. The Guardian and the Urn of Sacred Ashes

"Where did you come from, where did you go? Nobody in Thedas will ever knowwwww."

-------------------------------------------

Dragon Age 2

Dragon Age 2 was pretty self-contained, with most things being tied up in Trespasser or DAI. The worst of the plot points abandoned relate to the companions in the game and the lack of closure/answers about them.

General Questions:

Kirkwalls, apparently, endless line of 'provisional' viscounts and constant political instability since Varric ran off to go after Solas.

According to DA: Absolution the Red Templars are still in Kirkwall...yet the show is set after Trespasser - when Varric is viscount? When he mentions that they threw a parade when getting Meredith out of the Gallows?

Aveline, Varric, Merrill and whoever remains of the Kirkwall crew apparently just allowing red templars take over the Gallows?

What happened to Petrice if she lived?

What happened to Feynriel if he went to Tevinter?

If Hawke lives following DAI - where are they?

I have a whole list of lore that's also been brushed over: the Sundermount, Corypheous, the Band of Three etc... I decided to put them in Part 2 since I feel they fit in more with 'lore obliterated' rather than 'abandoned plot points'.

2. Companions

Merrill's Eluvian:

Merrill spent years fixing an eluvian with a piece of string, a potato, and some gum - managing to actually do it.

And it meant nothing.

Eluvians are now a fast travel hub - all mysticism and awe at this marvel of magic are completely gone. Whatever sacrifices Merrill went through to save her sliver of elven history is meaningless.

Imagine if Merrill's eluvian aided in the fight against Solas - if having it intact gave you an advantage against him. Imagine Merrill weeping as Bellara fixes every other single eluvian in ten seconds with her magical omnitool.

Fenris and Slavery in Tevinter:

DATV utterly trivializing slavery in Tevinter is abominable.

Disregarding everything Fenris went through, everything he ever fought for, and making it something barely touched upon in DATV is insanity.

You wouldn't know there was slavery in Tevinter if the Shadow Dragons didn't drop a line or two about it.

Fenris' entire story of going to help free the slaves is diminished because no one wanted to show the ugly, dark side of Tevinter in DATV.

DATV has retroactively made this choice for him to be so unfulfilling.

Where is Anders?

What happened with Sebastian's crusade against Anders? Was he ever captured? Was he executed? Are you telling me that no templars ever pursued this man fanatically after what happened in Kirkwall?

Does his fate vary if Hawke was friends/romanced him?

Varric appointing a new Viscount’s Keep healer called ‘Banders’ who just happens to sleep in the same room as Hawke and their children call him ‘daddy’ lmao

Does his fate vary according to who is Divine? Vivienne hunts him down, Cassandra puts him on trial, while Leliana pardons him?

How does he react to Leliana abolishing the Circles? How much does he weep when the rebellion fails and the mages are destroyed? This man instigated the starting event for DAI and drove most of DA2's major plot and he's just...gone.

The Hawke Siblings:

From DAI we know that Warden Bethany/Carver are safe, but what happened to them if they're in the Circle?

Give us Knight-Commander Carver and First Enchanter Bethany Hawke, you cowards! Have them dismantle the Gallows and be the shining examples of human decency we know they are.

What happens to them after DAI and the Mage/Templar War is concluded? In a world that can embrace or reject them - how do they find their place?

Varric

Trespasser gave him a satisfying conclusion - he's viscount, he's in his shit hole of a city, he's surrounded by the people that he loves and cares about. He has the chance to truly build up Kirkwall after all the shit its gone through.

It just feels so bitter, so meaningless, that they gave him the end that they did in DATV. Varric should never have been the one to go after Solas - the only reason it was him was because he's a popular character in the franchise and was used to draw interest.

Why not Cole?! Who was literally mentioned in Trespasser as being on hand to help his friends - who has the ability to get through to Solas in a way no one else could?

No proper send off - no acknowledgement from those who loved him as to his fate...Varric was reduced to a marketing gimmick to draw people in who wanted to see if he died or not.

Isabela

Isabela's story was brought to a close in DAI - she became an admiral, got a fancy hat, helped the Inquisition, and kept in contact with those she loved/Hawke if defended from the arishok.

Imagine bringing her back in a terrible outfit, having the most sex/gender positive character misgender another person, and making her part of the group that steals cultural artifacts from others.

The tomb of Koslun and Aveline would like a word with you?!

The entire Lords of Fortune group is also extremely bland? No commentary on the ethics/effects of colonialism/cultural appropriation - because confrontational topics/ideas are not allowed in this game. Just like topics of slavery/indoctrination.

Her entire character just seems to have regressed from DA2. Why bother having her cameo in the game if she's not going to meaningfully contribute/comment on whats happening?

Edit - Thanks to bunnyiscthulhu for reminding me that Isabela's mother sold her into marriage...yet she does nothing when Taash's mother is outright forcing them into a life they don't want. Isabela, who believed that everybody should be free - that no one should be forced into a life they don't want, just...lets it happen to another person?

-------------------------------------------

Dragon Age: Inquisition

What's going to happen to the Red Lyrium that's popped up across all of Thedas?

Ferelden, Orlais, Kirkwall - all areas are reported to have red lyrium on the surface.

What happens to the Red Lyrium in Suledin?

DAI speaks about how they can never stop the spread of red lyrium, only slow it – animals, insects, organisms - whatever life is in the ground is all susceptible to becoming blighted by red lyrium. Suledin Keep in particular was utterly devastated by the Red Templars - what happens to life there?

2. What happened to Corypheous' Inner Circle?

What happened to Samson? How long did he live *if* he’s given the chance to help Cullen? Can something good come from his cooperation?

What happened to Calpernia?

Looking at previous concept art for DATV she was a companion - freeing slaves, gossiping about Samson & Corypheous. Just...what a waste. Any potential insight we could have gotten into Corypheous is gone.

3. The Mage / Templar War:

How does the world vary if you conscripted vs allied with either?

How do the remnants of what faction was not chosen fit into this new world?

How does the world deal with abominations and weird magic shit now? Is an alternative to the Order made if it's wiped out in DAI?

How is Cullen's templar clinic doing? If the templars still exist, how is Divine Victoria changing/adapting the Order to better support mages/templars?

4. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts:

How do Orlesian politics reflect who was made ruler?

Is Gaspard looking to expand into Ferelden once more? Are the elves being brutalized under his rule like they were by his chevaliers? Does he do away with the grand game like he threatened in DAI?

How does this differ if Briala has collared him? How do his supporters feel that Briala has his balls in a vice?

Do Celene and Briala stay together? Do things improve for the elves and for the culture of Orlais at large?

Do improvements for the elves mean that Solas' arguments to his elven agents are less persuasive?

If Florianne is alive what the hell is going to happen to her? How quickly does she fall on her blade after being forced to wear flat shoes for the rest of her life?

How quickly does shit fall apart if you get all three to cooperate lmao

Friendly reminder that DATV sets up that all of Orlais, except for the Winter Palace has been overrun by the Blight - and that a coup from the Venatori is inevitable, likely resulting in any ruler dying.

5. What is the line of succession in Orlais?!

Why does every noble family in Thedas have no contingency plans for if their head of government dies?!

Part of why we needed to resolve the leadership problem in DAI was because there was no clear, direct heir if Celene died!

Celene has no heir Gaspard has no heir

Florianne planned to frame Gaspard, murdering Celene herself, leaving no clear heir to the throne - Orlais was already in a civil war, the council of heralds/nobles would have all campaigned in their own interests...that was why this was so important!

Orlais shortsightedness and pride in their nation being the greatest in Thedas led to them almost falling in a single night!

6. Here Lies the Abyss:

What are the ramifications of having the Warden's exiled verses remaining in the south?

Trespasser literally states that there's a schism in the Order because some Warden's believe they should touch grass more often and not listen to some bloke up in Weisshaupt for what they do down in the south.

Perfect opportunity to have the wardens remaining in the south mean something! Greater numbers in the south means that there's a greater chance of holding against the blight - while greater numbers in the north can effect if Antiva/Tevinter end up blighted in the first attack!

How does public perception towards the Wardens/King of Ferelden change when they learn they were exiled for committing human sacrifice to demons?!

Give us a warden coup and First Warden Alistair / Blackwall, you cowards!

7. The Well of Sorrows:

What was the point of drinking Mythal's bathwater?!

It's been set up as something that changes you. Bound to Mythal forever?!

Retroactively, Solas feels like he's going mental about nothing! One of the few times he ever breaks - he begs you not to - and...for what? Nothing.

DATV does not acknowledge that in the slightest. Such a waste and disappointment of what was made out to be an impactful decision in DAI.

Imagine if the Inquisitor drinking from the well made us forced to fight against them during the fight with Solas - imagine if Solas, in a world state who hated the Inquisitor, used them as a puppet! Just like the envy demon in DAI - and no one notices until its too late. Imagine Mythal herself, wanting Solas to go through with his plan - (or one of the other evanuris) using an Inquisitor/Lavellan he loved as a puppet - imagine the horror he feels as another one of his friends is reduced to nothing more than a mindless slave of the evanuris once more. Imagine the devastation as he watches Lavellan lose all sense of self - perhaps swaying him to, maybe, not go through with his plan?! Imagine having Cole come back to help save the Inquisitor - or Solas begging Rook to save them.

8. DLC Implications:

What happens if Hakkon is not slain? What happens to Southern Ferelden and the Avaar?

How does the rest of Thedas react to the truth of what happened at Red Crossing and the Dales? How do they react to learning that Inquisitor Ameridan - First Inquisitor and leader of the Seekers - was a dalish, elven mage?

What happens if you do not save the mines in the Descent DLC? How badly is Orzammars economy crippled? There are already rumours of riots occurring within Orzammar - it this enough to push the caste system over the edge?

9. Elven Uprising and the War with the Qun:

The elven uprising that was implied to be occuring all over Thedas as a result of years of oppression, systematic abuse, and Solas’ influence? What happened to it?

Where are the agents of fen'harel?!

It was set up that Solas was planning to use this rebellion as a smokescreen for his plans - the elves, all rebelling for good reason, rallying to his cause while Solas planned to restore the world that once was. The rest of Thedas would only see an elven uprising, not knowing the true face behind it until it was too late!

The war between Tevinter and the Qun?!

Everyone conveniently forgetting that the Qun literally attempted to assassinate every noble family in Thedas? Why was there no exalted march because of this? This should have destroyed any accord between the chantry and the qun. There would absolutely be blood for this – Tevinter could have attacked the Qun and all of Southern Thedas would have applauded - no one would have differentiated between extremist qunari and the normal qun, especially not after Kirkwall.

The implication at the end of Trespasser that we could convince Solas to abandon his plans? Him saying that he welcomed giving us the chance?!

The difference that the Inquisitors friendship, love, or hatred could have in either convincing Solas to take another path or damning him to go ahaead with his plan, no matter the cost?

Have our decisions in previous games matter! How we treated the elves - if we worked to better their lives or 'put them in their place' - can be used to convince him that the world can change! Have the ripple effects of these decisions be seen when the elven gods return, blighted - does the world turn against the elves, hardening Solas, or does the world defend the elves from those who would blame them?

Why was Sandal in the Crossroads?! Where is Bodahn?!

10. Divine Victoria!

How does the world of Thedas change with Leliana, Cassandra, or Vivienne at the head of the chantry?

How does Tevinter react to having a mage divine?!

Do relations change between both nations because of this?

Leliana allowing elves, dwarves, and even qunari to join the Chantry! Leliana also allowing members of the chantry to get married if she's romanced by the warden.

What happened to the Seekers? Are they being rebuilt?

Does the chantry inform the masses, the rest of the mages, that they can CURE tranquility?!

If either Leliana or Cassandra was romanced - what are the implications that may have on the chantry?

-------------------------------------------

No wonder the writers insisted that none of the past choices would have an impact on Veilguard - they literally went scorched earth on everything we ever did.

Ferelden is blighted - any legacy of the warden is gone.

Kirkwall is destroyed - any impact Hawke had is gone.

The hard won peace/order of the Inquisition was rendered meaningless since every single place that you went to and helped is now destroyed by the blight.

Orlais' ruler will likely be assassinated by the venatori who are plotting a coup with the nobles - making whomever you chose obsolete.

AND IT WAS ALL THE WORK OF THE MAGICAL ILLUMINATI FROM ACROSS THE SEA???

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months ago

Text

suguru is too well-mannered for his own good.

when you walk into his living room, a lidded paper cup in hand, he’s seated on the couch. right in front of the coffee table, his fingers tapping the keys of his laptop, a series of clicks filling the open air.

he’s just as beautiful as always. light shines in from the veranda, through parted curtains, licking along the contours of his face; illuminating his face lines, soft crows’ feet by his eyes. he’s got his hair tied up into a messy bun, raven locks and silver strands, only slightly grayed, some of them tickling the back of his neck — behind a pair of reading glasses, his eyes narrow in concentration.

you can see his age, like this, but also not at all. he looks younger than ever, with the sun as his gown.

suddenly, he raises his head, meeting your adoring gaze with his own; two pools of amber, always warm, like they were made to reflect sunlight, made to pull you in. his lips curling up into a fond smile.

but your gaze strays down to his hands.

big, steady hands. hands that always find their way to the dips of your waist, or your shoulders, or the top of your head. reaching out to pinch your cheek, to soothe your headaches after long lectures, to mend and mold any lump of clay you place into his waiting palms — guide it into whatever shape he pleases, with those skilled fingers.

when you think of suguru, you think of pottery. you think of something beautiful, and there he is.

and he’s holding a cup.

as you step farther into his line of vision, hungry for a proper look at him, you can’t help but notice it. painted a deep, dark green, his favorite, but the shape is all wrong — uneven, not nearly polished enough, rough around the edges. when he puts it back down on the table, it wobbles.

(you visibly cringe.)

”hi, sweetie.”

that deep, honeyed voice tugs you back into reality, your gaze pulled up like a puppet on a string. suguru is patient, just taking you in, waiting for a response. there’s never any rush, when it comes to him.

a shy smile blooms on your lips.

”hi,” you echo, stepping closer yet; raising a hand, the one carrying the paper cup, swaying it lightly side to side. ”i got you a latte.”

”oh?” he lets out a soft noise, something like a coo, eyes blooming with fondness. ”chai?”

”mhm.”

his smile only grows. you watch him lean back, absently crossing his arms, thick muscles hidden under the turtleneck he’s sporting. when you take a step closer, eager to hand it to him, he stops you.

”why don’t you give it a taste for me?” he asks, giving you a sweet tilt of his head. eyes soft and amused.

you blink.

after a moment, you raise the cup to your lips; taking a tentative sip of the brew. it’s hot on your tongue, a dash of pleasant spices, but mellow and sweet. just the way he likes it. you sigh out in bliss.

he only chuckles. ”how is it?”

”tasty,” you hum, licking your lips. holding it out for him to take. ”not too sweet, don’t worry.”

suguru accepts the cup with a smile, his thumb lingering on your hand for a moment, caressing the skin in a soothing motion. his voice a low, tender murmur. ”thank you, honey.”

(a warm feeling sprouts in your chest.)

”i’ll get you a cup next time i pass by a café,” he continues, taking a tentative sip of his own. he visibly perks up at the taste. ”what would you like?”

”you don’t have to!” you’re quick to assure him, blinking sheepishly. but, of course, he won’t have it.

”i want to,” he chuckles. ”you’ll make me very happy if you let me.”

…

there’s no use protesting, when it comes to things like this. when he gets like this. telling suguru not to take care of you is like asking the sun not to shine.

so you let out a sigh.

”i… want a caramel frappe, please…”

another little chuckle. his voice is soft, as always, like a coo is resting on the tip of his tongue. ”understood.”

suguru watches you, silently, for just a moment or two. you’re meeting his gaze with a shy pair of eyes, always a little flustered by his attention, his care. his sweet little baby bird, coming over just to give him something to drink. straight out of class.

(you must be in need of some pampering.)

he pats his lap. ”come here,” he croons, parting his legs to give you space to take up. ”keep me company while i work. i want to hear about your day, sweetie.”

you blink, again. looking down at his lap, then back up at him, at the light catching onto the silver of his half-rim frames. he gives you a patient, closed-eyed smile — waiting for you to take your rightful place.

and you do.

his thighs feel solid, beneath you, big arms curling around your waist as you crawl into his lap. one hand goes to rest on your hip, the other on your lower back, cradling you close, secure in his embrace. you wrap your arms around his neck, legs draped over his thighs, leaning into his touch; inhaling the scent of sandalwood and tea leaves.

”… it was pretty boring.”

”oh, i’m sure you can do better than that.” he grins, brushing his thumb over the fabric of your jeans, an absentminded gesture. ”any interesting lectures?”

”uhhh…”

as you take the time to think, recollecting your long and tiring day, suguru leans forward — reaching for the cup. the ugly one. pulling it closer, putting the ceramic to his lips, to finish whatever he was drinking before you came in. green tea, you assume. the sip he takes resounds in your ear, your eyes sticking to his fingers as he places it back on the wooden table with a clink — it wobbles again.

you give it a look of silent contempt.

… a look suguru seems to notice. because his keen, warm eyes trail down to where yours are still resting, and then back up at your little frown. he raises a brow, but he’s still smiling, an amused curl of his lips.

”… what?”

a moment passes. you consider staying silent, but the nagging curiosity gets the better of you. avoiding his gaze, still glancing down at the cup in question, absently clearing your throat.

”you still… use that one?” you ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. thinking that it should be stashed away in some forgotten cupboard, not out in the open — but maybe your boyfriend is just too polite to do something like that.

suguru only blinks. ”why wouldn’t i?”

…

you give him a look.

he returns it with a look of his own; silent, coaxing, that one questioning raise of his brow. he pairs it with a gentle squeeze to your hip, knowing it’ll make you relent. and he’s right.

”it’s…” you part your lips, searching for the right word, frowning down at the little ceramic bundle of joy. with its bumpy texture, that awkward-looking handle, the uneven bottom layer. ”so ugly, suguru.”

”ugly?” he echoes, a spark of amusement in his amber eyes. but he sounds a little discontent, almost protective. ”now, now. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my love.”

his deep voice buzzes in your ear, as he reaches out again, cradling the cup with one large hand. gazing down at it with a look you can’t quite place — so sweet it makes you shiver. out of the corner of your eye, you notice him giving you a pointed look.

”… and i happen to think this cup is very charming.”

you can’t help but pout, shying away from his gaze. gnawing at your bottom lip, crossing your arms and resting your cheek near the crook of his neck, muttering under your breath. ”what’s charming about a cup that can barely stand…?”

”you made it,” he answers, simply, no hesitation in his voice. ”with your own hands and fingers. and you gave it to me.”

ever so gently, he grips your jaw; his pointer and middle finger tilting your chin to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

”… don’t you think there’s an awful lot of charm in that?”

(warm. his eyes look warm enough to fall into.)

a sigh slips past your lips. he gives you a soft tilt of his head, and you part your lips in pliant response. sulking. ”the ones you’ve made for me are so much better, though…”

you think of all the bowls, all the cups, the plates he’s given you — the same ones you use every single day, sitting tall and proud on your shelves, made entirely by him. in all kinds of elegant patterns, your initials carved at the bottom of every single one. he always gives you the ones he’s most proud of, after he’s finished with his classes.

… in comparison, yours is just…

”we don’t make art for needless comparison,” he shushes you, ever so fondly. ”there’s no end to that. we make it because it’s fun. my pieces aren’t better or lesser than yours just because i happen to be more experienced.”

…

when you don’t respond, suguru shifts — cradling you close, lifting the cup up to catch the light of the evening sun. it cascades down the ceramic, a mellow orange glow gliding across the green expanse. he watches it with barely concealed adoration.

”… this is my favorite one, you know. in my entire collection.” a joyous little hum buzzes in his throat. ”i’ve never made a cup i liked as much as this.”

you watch his expression change, eyes flickering with something soft and subtle, crinkled at the edges. his voice is nothing but sincere — coated in that sturdy, reliable tilt, like nothing he says could possibly be a lie. even if he tried, you doubt he could fake this kind of delight. putting the cup back down, as gentle as he can, as if it’s a cherished possession. he only looks more delighted when it wobbles a bit.

without thinking, the words slip past your lips.

”… i’ll make you another one.”

suguru’s gaze flicks down to meet yours. all bright and determined, your cheek squished against his shoulder, enough to make him want to coo. he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

”oh…? joining us in the studio again?”

”joining you,” you’re quick to correct, letting out a quiet huff. ”i… don’t want your students to make fun of me.”

a raspy chuckle leaves his lips. ”they won’t,” he assures you, a hint of pride in his voice. ”they’re much too well-behaved.”

”well-behaved around you, maybe,” you mutter, with a roll of your eyes. nuzzling against his jaw, frowning softly. ”… you’re coddling them.”

”i coddle you,” he purrs, with an affectionate squeeze to your hip. ”i don’t see you complaining, do i?”

”… that’s different.”

the tiny pout on your lips makes him laugh. but he indulges you, always, all too eager to let you have your way. ”of course it is,” he coos, deep and teasing. ”how could i ever suggest otherwise?”

you fail to stifle a smile. feeling his skin against yours, his fingers rubbing absentminded patterns into your back, that soothing voice rumbling in your ear. when he leans down, to pick up the paper cup, you’re filled with a sense of purpose. you’ll just have to make a better cup next time — one that doesn’t wobble, with an smoother texture, perfectly symmetrical. one he can show off to his students and coworkers, the same way you do with all the pottery he’s given you.

suguru deserves nothing but the best, after all.

… what you don’t realize is that it won’t matter either way. even if you give him a better option, he’ll undoubtedly continue to use the cup he has now — with a sheepish little smile, and a sorry, honey. it seems i’ve gotten attached.

(… you suppose it’s the thought that counts.)

#geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff

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endless-ineffabilities · 7 months ago

Text

chemical override (2)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : aaand I just couldn't let this storyline go. Typical. Best to read part one before this one :)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan have gotten a lot closer since the press tour for season two, but neither one has made a move. The reader is spotted with another costar, giving rise to rumours of romance.

The press tour came and went like a fever dream. From Paris to New York to London, everyone had been highly anticipating your upcoming show.

Albeit you had a minor role, it all seemed like everything you could ever wish for.

A blossoming career. Lifelong friends made from your peers. The overwhelming support from audiences.

Only two episodes have since been released to the public, and already your character has become a fan-favourite.

Sadly, you and Ewan only had that one press day together, after which you were paired with other cast members. That didn't stop the onslaught of comments under your interviews with him, fans stating how good you looked together. Speculating whether there was something going on between you two.

You are good friends, but that's all.

He calls you often, mostly in the evenings after you're both finished with work. He sticks close to you during premiere after-parties. Now and again, you would catch him looking at you from across the room.

But... well... that's all there is to that.

Maybe he's just being nice. Maybe he only sees you as a good friend, and this is just how he is. With his effortless charm and cheeky remarks that can be mistaken as flirting, you think that maybe you're reading too much into it all.

"Ewan likes you, you know," Phia looks at you over her shoulder, as she does her makeup in front of your dresser.

The cast is having a private get-together in Fabien's apartment for a night, and yourself and Phia decide to prep together, her own place only being five minutes away from yours.

"He's just being nice," you shake your head at her observation, as you sift through your closet looking for a top.

"He's not that nice to everyone," Phia laughs. "Trust me, that lad fancies you and it's plain as day. Ask anyone, I mean, Tom even pointed it out the other day."

"And Ewan was there with you guys?"

"Uh-huh," Phia swivels her chair around, all done, nodding at you, "Poor sod just about turned red as a beet."

"What did he say?" you ask, not even bothering to hide your curiosity. Phia's got your back, after all.

"Well..." Phia glanced away, weighing just how much she is at liberty to say. Ewan's her friend just as much as you are, and she doesn't know how deep she can meddle in this.

"How bad is it?"

"Nothing bad, promise," Phia walks over, then takes over the task of sorting through your closet, "He likes you. A lot. But it seems like he's apprehensive about jumping into a relationship right now."

You plop down on your bed in a huff, "I guess that makes sense."

"Chin up, darling," Phia turns around, arms folded behind her, concealing her chosen top for you. "You're both rising stars, with great careers ahead of you. If you're going to commit to each other, you're gonna have to do it right."

You smile, because you can't help it, the high from landing your dream career not yet subsiding.

"And," Phia continues, "even if he's too chicken to make a move, that doesn't mean you can't torture him with this." She grins, presenting a green satin top, the material weightless and shimmering.

"This? Are you sure?" It was definitely revealing, and it would have your back exposed, only tied together by two strings.

"Ewan loves green," she hands it to you, and you hold it up with concern etched in your features.

"I guess I could wear this," you mumble.

"Oh, you will wear it," Phia smirks, pushing you over to your bathroom so you can get changed.

Already wearing your trusty pair of bootcut jeans, you shimmy into the slinky top, calling out to Phia so she can assist with securing the strings at your back.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," she beams at you in your bathroom mirror. "Ewan is going to melt at the sight of you, doll."

"Huh," you say, checking yourself out in the reflection. "Okay then, I think we're ready - "

Your phone rings, cutting you off. Phia beats you to it, and her face is scandalous when she raises your phone up like it's precious evidence.

Ewan's name flashes bright on the screen.

"Oh, look who it is!" Phia practically sings, "Lover boy."

"Give me that," you demand, reaching for your phone, but Phia quickly sidesteps you and presses the screen to answer the call.

You gasp, and the both of you struggle to keep down an incoming fit of giggles. Phia then clicks on the speaker mode, and Ewan can be heard saying your name, his tone a bit confused.

"Are you there?" Ewan asks.

"Yeah, I'm here," you take the phone, waving to Phia so she doesn't make a fuss.

"Hmm," he says. "I hope I'll be seeing you tonight. The party won't be as good without you."

"Well, Phia and I just finished getting ready," you glance at her, and she makes a kissy face at you.

"Hello, Mr. Whipped," she playfully cuts in with this greeting, effectively letting Ewan know he's on speaker.

You hear Ewan snort on the other end, before he says, "Hello to you too, Phi."

"We should be heading out in 15 minutes, and we'll be there on time," you let him know.

"Okay, I suppose I'll see you guys there," he replies.

"Okay." A beat of silence passes, and Phia just shrugs at you.

"I, uh - " he finally speaks up again, but hesitates.

"Yeah?"

He clears his throat, having decided on saying, "Nevermind. See you soon, darling."

The line cuts off. You slowly let your hand fall to the side, sighing at how it abruptly ended. Shaking off your worries, you look at Phia once more, and she already has her line all prepared. "See you soon, darling," she recites in a low voice, imitating Ewan.

"Oh, shush," you shove her playfully, and she shoves you right back.

"I can't wait to see you, darling," she continues teasing you, laughing, and you can't help but blush and smile, finding her endearing.

"Well, let's go," she says, picking up her things, "your darling boy of Derby awaits."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Fabien greets you at the door with that perfect smile of his, arms outstretched to pull you and Phia into a hug.

"Welcome, welcome," he greets, leading you into his apartment, where most of the cast is already assembled, including Ewan.

You happily exchange pleasantries with everyone. Chatting with Emma and Olivia. Profusely thanking Matt when he gushes over your outfit. Catching up with Harry and Bethany. All the while sensing that Ewan watches you from somewhere in the room.

You're eventually directed by Tom to the corner table where Ewan and Phia share a loveseat, drinks in hand.

"I'll get you a drink," Tom kindly declares, heading to the kitchen.

"Thanks, Tom," you say. You sit next to Phia, leaving her between yourself and Ewan. You finally say to him, "Hey, you. How are you doing? Got here early?"

Ewan's jaw clenches and loosens, and you catch his eyes quickly drift down to rake over your figure. When he meets your eyes again, his pupils are considerably dilated.

The boy just shamelessly checked you out.

"Ewan," you hear Phia say, elbowing Ewan from beside him. "She just asked you a question, be polite." She wags her eyebrows at you, mouthing the words lover boy.

Ewan hears that, astute as he is, and it snaps him out of whatever haze he seemed to be stuck in.

He shakes his head at himself, offering a smile to you. "I got here just before you guys," he answers. His voice lowers when he adds, "You look really good, darling."

You smile in return. "Thanks. So do you."

Phia beams at the exchange, then makes some excuse of having to catch up with the others. The look she gives you before sliding off the seat reveals that she just wanted to give her two lovebirds some privacy.

"So," Ewan inches closer to you, his arm outstretched on the back of the seat, "how did the script turn out?"

"It was better than expected," you say. He refers to a script you told him about a week ago, for a potential project which will shoot in Atlanta in the fall. "I'm supposed to meet with the director pretty soon to discuss it further, but I think it might be the right fit."

"That's amazing," he expresses sincerely. "Rian Johnson's a brilliant director and they would be lucky to have you as their lead."

"Thanks, Ewan! Yeah, I'm really excited for it, it's a lot different from House of the Dragon, but I'm all in for the challenge, you know."

"Is it a drama film, or thriller, or - "

"Oh, it's a rom-com, actually."

"Oh," he nods, leaning back a little, like that needed a bit of processing. "And you'll have a romantic co-lead..."

"That's right, and - " you confirm.

He smirks, like he just thought of something amusing. "Well, maybe I could - "

But you finish your statement then, " - I think Jacob Elordi has just been selected as my partner in the film."

His face scrunches in apparent distaste, "Has he now?"

"Mhmm." You note the switches in his expression, how his face fell when you mentioned your upcoming co-star. He can't have something against Jacob; they already did a film together and it seemed like it went well on set.

That thing nags at you, that little spring of vanity and desire creating warmth in your stomach. That Ewan might be jealous.

Which is ridiculous, given your shared line of work. Besides, you were not together. What could he possibly be jealous over?

"You've worked with him, right? What's he like?" you continue the topic, keeping watch for the minutiae of his reactions.

"He's... he's a good actor, I guess. Dedicated and all that. Pleasant on set." His answer is curt, not giving away any details, tone flat like he's disinterested.

"Riiight," you nod slowly, smiling impishly at him to get him to lighten up, "I'm sure he'll be just as pleasant on our set then. Good to know."

He catches the look you're giving him, causing the corner of his lips to pull in a soft crooked smile. "Hmm, be that as it may... I think I'll do a much better job as your love interest, don't you?"

"Oh, will you now?" you lean forward, and he does the same.

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" he whispers conspiratorially, like there's a secret to be shared. "According to the internet, we have a lot of chemistry. Practically oozing with it, based on some comments I read."

"You've been lurking on comments? You? The last crusader against all social media?" you joke, fully knowing that he keeps a few shadow accounts just to keep up with how his work is being received by the public.

"Sure," he shrugs his shouders dramatically, " that, and also to stalk your page, of course."

"Oh, of course," you quip, "I wouldn't expect anything less."

You share another laugh, feeling light all over, and even lighter when his fingertips brush against your arm for a few seconds. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you sneakily rub your arms to cover the effect he had on you.

Tom reappears from the side, handing you a drink as promised, "What are you kids giggling about over here?"

"Nothing," you share, "just that Ewan is planning to join Instagram."

"A damn miracle, that!" Tom exclaims, lightly punching Ewan in the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Ewan looks at you warmly, playing along, "you can be in charge of keeping my account running."

"Tough job. All those fan messages I'll have to answer."

"Yeah, you'll have to quit your day job," Tom adds jokingly. "It was fun while it lasted. The industry will miss you."

You feel a pressure by your shoulders, and notice that it's Ewan's arm snug behind you on the seat. In the midst of conversation, he must have drawn even closer. You glance down briefly and see his knees touching yours.

You nervously take a huge gulp of your drink. There is no hiding the effect he has on you now.

"Don't you two look cute?" Tom comments, then he stands right in front of the loveseat and puts his phone up. Before you can say anything, a clicking sound makes it clear that he has taken a photo of you and Ewan.

"Awww, I ship it," Tom gushes afterward as he looks at the photo. He then reaches over and passes his phone to you.

The image betrays what the both of you are probably struggling to hide - it's there, clear as day. The attraction, the tension, the chemistry. Ewan practically has his arm around you, looking at you intensely with the inscrutable spark in his eyes. His teeth lightly clamping down on his lip in desire.

There's a subtle scrunch between your eyebrows as you return Ewan's look, a result of trying to maintain composure when he is so close. But your posture is relaxed, almost cozying right up against him, showing just how comfortable you feel around him.

As Tom just said, you ship it.

If only.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Two weeks after the party at Fabien's, the main cast members of House of the Dragon are engaged in an additional round of promo work. Season two is at its peak, and the media is just clamoring to get more from the cast.

Some are booked for photoshoots, others for interviews.

While a minor character in the show, they also wanted you to take part in engaging with the press, but you are already busy with your upcoming film with Jacob. You're currently out in LA, doing rehearsals in preparation for the actual shoot.

Ewan is yet again lounging in a hotel suite, about to do an interview with Vanity Fair.

He sends you a text, in response to your complaint about a difficult scene.

You had shared, It's a pretty dramatic scene. What if I can't cry on command?

He easily texts back, You can do it, darling. Trust me, you're one of the most talented young actors I know.

- Thanks, Ewan. Good luck with your interview!

- Thank you, good luck with rehearsal. I miss --

Ewan pauses typing. I miss you, he aches to send. He does miss you so much. Why can't he just commit to it?

He ends up sending, I'll see you soon, in its place.

He knows he wants to do everything with you. Take you out on dates. Sweep you off your feet. Travel to wherever you will be filming just to see you. Confess how much he wants you.

Why can't he? It's terrifying to him, being with someone, in danger of falling in love - truly falling in love - with a fellow actor, and that relationship exposed to much public scrutiny.

He's always been a private person, so will he be able to handle all of that? Acting is his first love, and he's devoted to the craft. If he succumbs to his desire for you, will that cause him to go off track?

What if the relationship is not well-received? He is aware of how passionate fans can be. What if they cruelly decide to make you the object of their ire as a result? He can't possibly put you through that.

But... but fuck it.

The Aemond in him turns proud and defiant. Why can't he? Why shouldn't he?

He types another message in a second, then clicks send.

And I miss you.

His publicist walks over to him, giving him a few last-minute instructions. In a few minutes, the room is all composed and the interview is ready to begin.

The line of questioning has almost become routine-like for him, a far cry from when he first started giving shorter interviews for previous projects.

The answers flow from him smoothly, stemming from his care for Aemond and the show.

Near the end of the interview, he is asked about the remaining normalcy of his life. Surely it has all changed ever since he landed the show?

"Well, I try to go back to my hometown as much as possible. Just, you know, spending time where I grew up really helps maintain a sense of normal, for me," he responds. "It keeps my feet planted on the ground, that is, when I'm not on dragonback flying high up in the clouds."

The interviewer promptly laughs at his last remark, then asks, "What's next for you? Your fans are just eagerly awaiting your next project. Maybe a film like your new costar? Everyone is excited for her film with Jacob Elordi."

Ewan can't hide the way he perks up at the mention of you, never mind how Jacob is included too. "Ah, yes, well there are some things down the line for me. More than anything, I want to choose a project that I am passionate about, with a story and a character that is rich and complex. Whichever that is, I guess you'll find out soon!"

"Yes, yes, we will!"

"And about her project, I mean, I'm just so proud of her. We've become really close and I think she's a fantastic actress and person. She's going to smash it in this film, that's for sure."

The interviewer nods enthusiastically, smirking as he adds, "Apparently a bit of romance on the cards for her as well!"

"You mean in the movie?" Ewan replies, half-smiling in confusion. But he spies his publicist gesturing to the interviewer from behind the camera, a signal that private affairs are off-limits.

After a final question, the interview wraps up.

His publicist grumbles to him afterward, as they prepare to leave the room. "It was clear that no private questions are allowed. Sorry about that, Ewan."

"It's alright, that was... well, what was he on about? Did he mean romance between the two of us?"

"I believe he's talking about Jacob and her. They were spotted out in LA today. The interviewer probably just wanted you to spill some dirt on your costar."

Ewan frowns, "What do mean they were spotted?"

His publicist appears surprised at his question, and his obvious interest. "They've been papped walking arm in arm in LA. Seemed pretty close, not that it's any of that interviewer's business."

As they walk out of the hotel, Ewan can't help but do an immediate Google search of your name, and sure enough, the headlines about your walk with Jacob are abound.

He can't pinpoint how he feels as he sees the photos, the statuesque Jacob with his arm around you as you beam up at him. He notices that his grip on his phone has tightened, so he turns it off quickly and shoves it in his pocket.

Whatever this is, and how it makes him feel, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit.

His phone vibrates from his pocket, but he ignores it.

So he doesn't yet see your reply.

I miss you too.

💌 next chapter

Ewaaaan! Make a move, my guy!

As much as we'd like to see them make declarations of love or get into the passion quick, I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. How would two young actors begin dating? Reader, kudos to you for keeping it cool as a cucumber thus far - it's up to Ewan to make the big move.

Part three may be the last. What'll they be? Just friends? PR relationship? Notorious fling? Or new celebrity power couple?

MASSIVE thanks for all the lovely feedback for part one! 💙

Update: if you wish to be tagged in part three, let me know in the comments 💌

#ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader

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xo100 · 22 days ago

Text

A night on the beach - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: At a beach party, you feel out of place until Lando Norris, who’s unexpectedly there, helps you navigate the chaos. Despite your shyness, his charm puts you at ease, and the two of you connect over quiet joys like sunsets. By the end of the night, standing together by the shore, you realize stepping out of your comfort zone was worth it.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1629

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The beach was alive with music, laughter, and the crashing of waves under the soft glow of string lights. The party buzzed with life, but you couldn’t help feeling like a misplaced puzzle piece in this loud, chaotic world. You clutched your small green purse, adjusting the delicate straps of your pastel dress, a masterpiece of soft fabric and embroidered flowers that caught the moonlight beautifully. It was Lucy who convinced you to come, practically dragging you here despite your protests. She called it “breaking out of your shell,” but you were pretty sure your shell was perfectly fine.

You hadn’t even wanted to leave the car earlier, yet here you were, standing awkwardly near the bar. The crowd pressed in around you as people ordered cocktails and chatted animatedly. You weren’t drinking—never did—and trying to get the bartender’s attention felt like navigating a minefield of tipsy strangers. You craned your neck, softly mumbling “excuse me” every now and then, but your words were swallowed by the music.

Lando Norris wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this part of town. Tonight, his name had been written on the guest list of an exclusive gala, complete with black ties, red carpets, and cameras flashing at every turn. He had the perfect black suit tailored for it, ready to make a sharp, polished appearance. But life had other plans. A series of delays and last-minute cancellations had left him unexpectedly free for the evening. On a whim, he decided to wander—just drive until something caught his attention. That’s when he saw it: the soft glow of lights on the beach, the sound of faint music carried on the wind. A party. No pressure, no obligations. Just... people.

It was impulsive, but he stopped anyway. Walking toward the bar, he loosened the collar of his suit, blending into the crowd effortlessly despite his fame. He wasn’t there to be noticed, just to enjoy the anonymity for a little while. But then, he noticed you.

You stood out, not in an ostentatious way, but in the way that draws eyes without trying. There was something inherently endearing about the way you fidgeted, your hands brushing the hem of your dress nervously as you struggled to get the bartender’s attention. You looked so out of place in the sea of wild laughter and carefree dancing, a quiet sort of beauty like a flower blooming amidst chaos.

Lando found himself stepping closer, weaving through the crowd toward you without a second thought.

“Need some help?” His voice cut through the music, warm and playful. You turned, startled, and there he was—a man who looked far too charming for his own good, even with his shirt slightly undone and his tousled curls catching the breeze. His grin was lopsided but kind, his eyes sparkling like he was in on some secret joke.

You blinked at him, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. “I... uh... I’m just trying to get a soda,” you admitted shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Non-alcoholic.”

His grin widened. “The sober one at a beach party. Brave.”

You opened your mouth to respond but faltered. Small talk wasn’t your forte, and this was... a lot. He didn’t seem to mind the awkward pause, though. Instead, he leaned slightly against the bar, signaling the bartender with a practiced ease. A moment later, a soda was slid across the counter toward you.

“There,” he said, as if he’d just performed a heroic act. “Saved you the hassle.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, clutching the cold glass as if it were a lifeline.

He tilted his head, studying you with a curious smile. “Not much of a party person, huh?”

“Not really,” you admitted, glancing down at your drink. “My friend dragged me here.”

“Let me guess,” he said, leaning in slightly. “She said something about needing to live a little?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Exactly that.”

Lando’s smile softened at the sound of your laugh. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m not much of a party person either.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, skeptical. “Really? You seem... comfortable.”

He shrugged. “I’m good at pretending. Perks of the job.” There was a playful glint in his eye, but something about the way he said it felt genuine. “But you... you’re honest about it. I like that.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Compliments weren’t something you were used to, especially not from strangers who looked like they belonged in glossy magazines. You took a sip of your soda, hoping it would hide the blush creeping up your neck.

Lando didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. If anything, he seemed content just standing there, the chaos of the party fading into the background as he focused on you. “So, if you’re not a party person, what’s your thing?”

“My thing?” you echoed, buying yourself a moment to think. “Um... I don’t know. I like quiet things. Books, movies... sunsets, I guess.”

He smiled. “Sunsets are a solid choice.”

“What about you?” you asked, surprising yourself with the question.

“Me?” He rubbed the back of his neck, as if the question caught him off guard. “I guess I like... racing.”

“Racing?” Your eyes lit up with genuine curiosity. “Like cars?”

“Something like that,” he said with a grin, clearly amused by your lack of recognition. “I’ll tell you what—I’ll show you sometime. If you’re interested.”

The offer hung in the air between you, and for the first time that night, you felt a spark of something new—something exciting. Maybe Lucy dragging you to this party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

You hesitated, glancing down at your drink as you processed his words. He wanted to see you again? You weren’t used to this kind of attention, and you didn’t want to overthink it—but it was hard not to. Lando, on the other hand, seemed entirely at ease, waiting patiently for your response, his smile soft and encouraging.

“I think... I’d like that,” you finally said, your voice barely above the sound of the waves crashing behind you.

His grin widened, and he straightened up slightly, looking undeniably pleased. “Good. It’s a deal then.”

The air between you shifted, lighter somehow. You didn’t feel quite as out of place anymore, even as the party continued to hum around you. He leaned back against the bar, his body turned slightly toward you, as if you were the only person worth talking to tonight.

“So,” he started again, his voice teasing, “what’s a quiet, sunset-loving introvert doing in a dress like that? Not that I’m complaining—definitely not—but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘low profile.’”

You laughed softly, your cheeks heating up. “Lucy again. She said it would be a crime not to wear it.” You glanced down at the soft green fabric, the embroidered flowers trailing along the straps. “I guess I thought it might help me fit in.”

He tilted his head, his eyes scanning the dress for a brief moment before meeting yours again. “You don’t need a dress to fit in,” he said gently. “But for what it’s worth, it suits you. The color, the flowers—it’s... soft. Like you.”

The way he said it wasn’t like a typical pick-up line. It wasn’t overdone or cocky. It felt real. And that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks,” you murmured, looking away, unsure how to handle his gaze. You took another sip of your soda, hoping it would cool the flush on your face.

He let the moment linger for just a second longer before breaking the tension. “So, what do we do now?” he asked, his voice light and playful. “Want me to rescue you from this party, or are we braving it together?”

You looked at him, surprised by the question. He was giving you an out—a way to leave the noise and chaos without judgment. Part of you wanted to say yes, to let him lead you away to somewhere quieter, safer. But another part of you—the part that had spent so much of your life hiding away—wanted to try something different.

“I think...” You paused, glancing at the crowd. Lucy was nowhere in sight, probably lost in the music or talking to someone. “I think I can stay. If you’re here, that is.”

His smile turned softer, his eyes warm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t. For the rest of the night, Lando stayed by your side. He didn’t push you to dance or drink or do anything outside of your comfort zone. Instead, he talked with you—about sunsets, about racing, about the little things that made him laugh. He made you feel like you belonged, not just at the party but in that moment, with him.

When the party finally started to wind down, the music fading and the crowd thinning, he walked you toward the shoreline. The water shimmered under the moonlight, and the two of you stood there, your dress catching the breeze as the waves lapped at your feet.

“See?” he said quietly, his voice just above a whisper. “Sunsets aren’t the only thing worth staying for.”

You turned to him, the sound of the ocean filling the silence between you. His gaze was steady, his expression open. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel shy or awkward. You smiled back, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer air.

Maybe parties weren’t your thing. But tonight? Tonight felt different. Tonight felt like the beginning of something you didn’t even know you were waiting for.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

*:･ﾟtags; @spookbusters-jr

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pajarita-gonzalez · 2 years ago

Photo

colored pencil on vellum, with some white pen

part of the Tied With Strings Series (for the ap art exam)

this is another piece exploring how music is used to make connections with others, but i wanted to explore using music to feel that connection with family

i’m not a guitar player, but i’ve picked up a bit throughout the years, like learning a chord here or there from a family member, and pictured here, trying to learn guitar so i could join in and participate in this common activity my family did so i could be a part of it and feel that connection with them

so while this piece deals with similar themes to the one after it (here), i feel like this one focuses more on insecurity and a desire to feel connected, rather than focusing on what does connect me to my family

#traditional media #traditional art #colored pencil #vellum #artists on tumblr #my art #ap art #ap art portfolio #Tied With String Series

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andvys · 10 months ago

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter two ⭐︎ I want you to notice, when I'm not around

Warnings: angst! mean!Steve, unrequited feelings, one sided feelings, mentions of Steve being in love with Nancy, mentions of death, allusions to suicidal thoughts, mentions of weed and alcohol

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Author's note: I promise, it's gonna get so much better soon, get ready for some much more angst in the next chapter, it's gonna hurt. @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, you're the bestest!!!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

The living room is crowded, at least it seems that way to you. You aren’t used to being around so many people. You didn’t want to come here, but you had no choice when both Eddie and Robin had showed up at your house earlier today and practically forced you out of the house.

Now you sit here, sinking deeper and deeper into Steve Harrington’s couch, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. You’re playing with the loose string on the hem of your shirt as you look around the room. Robin is snacking on the m&m’s Eddie had brought as she’s looking through the pictures Jonathan had taken of her and Nancy just now. Eddie is out on the patio, smoking a cigarette and talking to Argyle who will leave for California in two days. Jonathan is staring at the screen watching some music video that is playing on the MTV channel, his pupils are blown and his eyes seem heavy, he is high out of his mind and for once, Nancy doesn’t seem to care, with her legs thrown over his thigh, she’s sipping on the beer that Steve handed to her a few minutes back, she is talking to Robin, unaware of the set of eyes on her.

You restrain the eye roll as you look at him.

Steve is sitting on the same couch you do, though with a big distance, you sit at one end and he on the other, far far away from you. You know he doesn’t want you here, you saw the look on his face when Eddie had dragged you into his house, a wave of something had washed over his face, something unpleasant, like he wanted to scrunch his face up in disgust at the sight of you – his mind had already erased your little moment at the Sinclair house, last week. Now you are back to normal. He made a comment, you made a comment and now you both sit there, avoiding each other like the plague.

Secretly, you watch him though.

Like you always do.

And what you are seeing now, only fuels your annoyance and your wish to go home.

The smile on his face that could never be directed at you, is directed at her. The love and the longing in his eyes that always lingers when she is around. She who had stolen his heart from the very first moment they saw each other. She who had always kept his heart even when she left him for the one she is smiling at now. She who will always be the one he will look at.

You thought that he was over it, you thought that he was over her. But you were a little blind and maybe he was too when he told Robin that he was over her. He never was, he never will be. You saw the way he looked at her when she patched him up after he was attacked. You saw the way he looked at her in the RV. You heard the things he said to her, how he talked about his dreams that he surely saw her in by his side.

You also heard the things he said about you when he thought that you were sleeping. You still remember how gut wrenching it felt to hear him say things about you to his ex-girlfriend.

You huff in silence when his lips curl into a smile and his eyes light up when Nancy throws her head back in laughter.

God, why are you even here?

Eddie falls into the seat next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. It feels as though a cloud of smoke had followed him because suddenly, the smell of snacks, fresh air and beer is replaced by it, along with the smell of his cologne.

Right. You’re here because of him. You don’t know why he feels the urge to drag you along to every group hang out. No one wants you around, you don’t even think that Robin wants you here, she barely talked to you since you came here. And the longer you sit in Steve’s living room, with an untouched can of coke on the table in front of you, surrounded by people who most likely cannot stand you or your presence, you wish more and more that Jason should have dragged you down with him.

You don’t belong here, you don’t belong anywhere.

Eddie takes a look around before he turns to you, the smile still lingering, though turning into a softer one when he notices the frown on your face.

“What’s wrong, sweets?”

You shake your head a little, trying to give him a smile, “nothing.”

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, whispering.

You wonder if that is the reason why he always wants you around, so he can keep checking up on you, so he can make sure that you are okay, that you are still alive and not lying in some ditch after pushing yourself a little too hard while still recovering from surgery.

Does he care so much because he knows that no one else would?

Or does he feel like he owes you something because you helped him when it wasn’t even asked of you?

You nod, “yeah, I just don’t know why I’m here,” you whisper to him, subtly gesturing to this tight friend group that you don’t fit into.

Eddie is new to this as well, but unlike you, he’s open and friendly with everyone. He surely isn’t as cheerful as he was weeks back. Just like you, he is still recovering, hiding his inner scars from the face of the earth but still, he is trying. Trying to fit into this, and for him, it’s working, for you? Not so much.

“Well, you’re here because of me,” he grins, tapping your shoulder.

You huff but smile, looking down at your hands.

Yeah, you wouldn’t be here otherwise.

Had you not gone on a walk that one afternoon a few weeks back, you would have never ran into him. Eddie who had been a wanted man at that time, Eddie who was hiding at skull rock, in drenched clothes and with clattering teeth as he shivered like crazy. You remember how scared he looked when you saw him, how he thought that you would rat him out because at that time, you were nothing but acquaintances to each other. – You bought from him a few times but that was all. He always tried to make small talk, throw a few jokes at you, but at that time, he barely got you to laugh.

You didn’t believe the rumors on the news, not even for a second, not even when Chrissy used to be a close friend of yours.

You decided to help him, not knowing what else you were getting yourself into, not knowing that it wasn’t just him involved in a world you hadn’t known of yet, at that time. You got him dry clothes, food and the walkie talkie he had begged you for.

You never expected Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson to show up moments later, though. And least of all, you hadn’t expected Max there. It felt like a surreal dream the moment they started explaining everything to you. The moment you found out the truth about Starcourt, about all the deaths in this town, about the lab, about Henry.

You had only been allowed to be a part of it because of Max, because of your friendship with the girl you had grown protective of, because she let you help.

The night in the upside down, the night at the Creel house led you here, into this friend group, into Steve’s house where you certainly don’t belong.

You don’t know what that nagging yet empty feeling in your chest is, if it’s the trauma that is slowly catching up to you or if it’s from watching him watch her, or if you’re just simply having a bad day but it’s making you feel sick and restless, you want the ground to swallow you up.

You muster up your greatest smile and flash it at Eddie, “yeah, cause you’re my very best friend.”

He snorts at you, hearing the sarcasm in your voice.

“Your only best friend is Red.”

You smile at his nickname for Max.

“Hey Chica, do you wanna smoke this with me?”

You don’t even pay attention or look up, not until Eddie chuckles and nudges your shoulder, raising his eyebrows at you to look up and when you do, you find Argyle looking at you with a dopey smile on his face as he holds up a blunt to you.

Without thinking, you get up with a smile on your lips, “is that even a question?”

It’s been a long time since you have had anything other than medication in your system, you are in dire need of something that will ease your mind and make you feel more than what you are feeling today.

You fail to notice the disapproving look on Steve’s face, the way he tensely straightens up, slowly getting up as his brows knit together, more and more, watching in disbelief how you make your way over to Argyle.

“What the hell, Blondie!?”

His raised voice startles everyone in the room. Robin looks up from the polaroids in her hands, glancing up at her best friend who is staring at you with angry eyes. Nancy and Jonathan turn to look at Steve before they turn to look at what he is glaring at – or who he is glaring at.

Argyle and Eddie turn to Steve with confusion on their faces.

And you, you halt in your tracks, and turn back slowly. Caught off guard by the intense look on his face, you freeze.

“Are you crazy?”

You open your mouth to speak, though you shut your mouth again when you realize that these words aren’t directed at you, they’re directed at Argyle.

“She can’t smoke or drink! Her doctor said it loud and clear, and I warned you before!” He points at him.

You’re taken aback by his anger, by his words. The fact that he remembered when even you, yourself have forgotten about it. You hate the way your heart flutters at that, you hate the way it makes your stomach feel all tingly. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, just because he remembered.

You see the way Argyle’s face drops and the way he smacks himself on his forehead, “I forgot, I’m sorry, man,” he looks at you, pulling away the blunt he was just about to give to you. “Sorry, he told me… I wasn’t thinking.” He whispers, a little uncomfortably as a funny look takes over his face.

Steve warned him?

“Dude, I forgot too, don’t worry about it,” you pat his arm, giving him an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind mother hen over there, he’s overreacting as always.” You say as though you don’t feel your heart racing over Steve’s outburst.

“And you.”

You instantly turn to face him, just like everyone else in the room who watches the scene unfold with curiosity and confusion on their faces.

You meet his hazel eyes, the ones that are still raging.

“Stop being so fucking careless!” He snaps, pointing his finger at you now. “You’re getting on my goddamn nerves.”

He places his hands back on his hips, huffing loudly.

Your cheeks flush under his gaze, you can feel them burning, your heart beating faster and faster. You don’t know how to feel but all you can think about now is the look in his eyes when he realized that he hurt you back at Lucas’s place the other day, the words he had said to you.

Despite the giddiness inside of you, you hide your feelings behind a smirk.

“Wow, you do worry about me, Harrington. You weren’t lying.”

He squints his eyes at you, nodding at your words with another huff. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

Everyone is looking between the two of you, waiting for the bickering to start, the way it always does, but Steve manages to bite his tongue.

And you surprise the others by holding back your little remarks.

“And fucking relax, leave Argyle alone, he isn’t responsible for me and neither are you, Lego head. Go and get high, you need to calm down.”

Jonathan snorts at the nickname, he throws his head back, chuckling loudly as he mumbles ‘Lego head’. Argyle, who already had one too many drags of the blunt he passed around before, is barely holding himself together, threatening to burst into laughter too.

Steve shoots Jonathan a glare, pointing at him to shut up.

Nancy looks down, pressing her lips together with an amused look in her eyes.

Eddie drinks his beer, hiding the smirk behind the can, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sit your ass down, Blondie and drink your goddamn coke, don’t even think about weed or–”

“No weed, no beer, just fucking coca cola, got it, mom,” you roll your eyes at him and slump back in your previous seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

He sighs loudly, sitting back down as well, he crosses his legs, giving you the side eye.

“Goddamn brat,” he mumbles under his breath.

“I heard that.”

“Good,” he snaps at you.

There is no tension in the room, not even awkwardness after this weird moment. If anything, everyone is still amused.

“Always bickering like an old married couple,” Eddie snickers.

Steve glares at him, and you, you would have dug your elbow into his side, but he is wounded and still healing. The band aids on his neck are the evidence that they are still bad. He is hiding him, and you wonder if he always will, you ask yourself if he will hide his pain the way you hide yours.

You don’t even notice that Robin left the room, only when everyone moves on from what just happened and chatter fills the space again, do you take a look around. You furrow your brows when you find her spot empty.

Argyle and Jonathan leave the room, stepping out into the garden with Nancy following close behind.

“Are you still in for tomorrow?” You hear Eddie, directing his question at Steve.

“Yeah, sure.”

You don’t bother to ask and find out what their plans are.

Robin walks back into her room, with something in her hand. Her eyes are aimed at you, a smile on her lips when she walks towards you. She hands you a drink, a diet pepsi.

“Here.”

Your lips part as you stare at the can for a long moment, blinking. You tilt your chin up, looking up at her with big eyes.

Her smile falls and a frown takes over, “shit, I thought you liked diet pepsi? Was it original?”

You shake your head at her, taking the can from her hand, “n-no, it’s diet pepsi.”

She paid attention to you.

She smiles at you.

She felt bad watching you sit there and being unable to drink beer or smoke weed with the others. And she remembers that you always asked for pepsi when you were still in the hospital, you hated the teas there and despised the fact that you were only allowed water.

“I thought you liked coke, Blondie.”

Robin rolls her eyes at Steve.

“It’s not my favorite,” you shrug, turning to look at him. “I prefer pepsi.”

He squints his eyes at you, “so when you stole my coke the other day, you did it just to–”

“Get back at you, yeah. Cause you stole my coffee.”

“When did he steal your coffee?” Robin asks.

“When I came to family video to rent a movie–”

“Oh, you little liar,” Steve scoffs at you, “she did not rent a movie, she didn’t even come to look for one.”

A smirk tugs at your lips, if there’s something that you love more than the drink in your hand, it’s to get on his nerves.

“Says who? I really wanted one but the customer service sucks when this one isn’t around,” you point at Robin.

Eddie chuckles, turning to look at Steve who is glaring at you, before a smirk appears on his face, his hazel eyes twinkling with smugness.

“You and I both know that you didn’t want to rent a movie, honey. You were there because you wanted to see me,” he says, cockily as he lets his eyes move from your face, down to your body and back up to meet your eyes.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the way he just looked at you. You don’t squirm in your seat, but you surely would if the others weren’t around. You grow flustered beneath his stare but you have come to learn how to hide it – Steve Harrington will never see you blushing over him.

Maybe he was right, maybe you did just want to see him, because you always do, you always want to see him. No matter how much he hates you, no matter how much he despises you, you can’t help but want him, even if you continue to lie about it to yourself to stay sane.

Steve Harrington had always been your demise – from the first glance.

You couldn’t help but grow fascinated with him, watching him from afar with eyes the shape of your favorite sunglasses. You couldn’t help but care for him, even when he couldn’t stand you.

Sometimes you feel like a creep, watching him and adoring everything about him, from his sun kissed skin, to his beautiful eyes, to his perfect hair, to that one smile that he blesses only those around him that he cares about – something that you will never get.

Sometimes it’s hard to look into his eyes because every time you do look for a little too long, you feel like dying because suddenly, you see the world with different eyes, you see something beautiful, because he is in it and when you look away, when he is gone, it feels anything but.

Steve wouldn’t even bat an eye if you were gone. He wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t around.

Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed by the way he looks at you, by his presence, by all of this. You are in his space, you are invading, his home, his friend group, his safe place. The reminder of it, that you don’t belong here, lies heavy on your heart and you feel the urge to run away but you cannot give yourself away so easily, knowing that it would be awfully noticeable if you suddenly left after what he just said.

So you put on a mask, the way you always do.

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you smirk, tilting your head at him, “I mean no one else would come to see you, I took pity on you.”

He clenches his jaw, his smirk falling into a frown.

“Keep your pity to yourself, Blondie. I’d rather never see you again than see you when I don’t have to.”

You know how he feels about you, you know what he thinks of you, yet every single insult, every jab at you feels like a punch to your gut. But this, this was a punch to your heart.

You know he wouldn’t grieve you if you died at the Creel house, but to know that he might have felt relieved to never having to see you again, hurts you more than you want to admit.

“What the hell, man?” Eddie snaps at him as his brown eyes fill with anger at his words.

Robin rolls her eyes, shaking her head at Steve in disappointment.

But he keeps his eyes on you, struggling to read you, struggling to look past that smirk that is still going strong.

“Well, I’ll put you out of your misery, Lego head,” you say as you place the drink on the table before you get up.

Robin furrows her brows, looking you up and down, “what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” You try not to sound bitter or hurt. “I’m getting tired and I forgot my meds at home.”

Steve looks away from you, feeling a rush of guilt.

“I’ll drive you–”

You cut Eddie off, shaking your head at him, “no, I’m gonna walk, I need some fresh air.”

Eddie looks at you worriedly, “sweets, I don’t want you to walk by yourself.”

“Eddie, I’m okay, I don’t get dizzy anymore,” you say, trying to smile at him. “I promise, I’ll call you later tonight.”

He still looks unsure, not wanting to let you go like this.

But he can tell that you want to be alone, right now, so despite his worry, he leans back again and nods begrudgingly.

“Okay..”

You walk out of the room, biting back the bitterness on your tongue, trying to swallow down the pain. You rush through the hallway and open the door, you only manage to take one step out before you hear footsteps behind you.

You roll your eyes, knowing that Eddie being the stubborn guy that he is will try to convince you to stay, but when you turn around, it’s not Eddie’s brown eyes that you find yourself looking into, it’s Steve’s and it catches you off guard a little.

He stops in front of you, his eyes scan your face and he huffs a little when he runs his fingers through his hair.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’s guilt and worry in his eyes.

You hold onto the door, ready to escape whatever pain he will put you through again.

“Listen uh, that was mean,” he starts, now struggling to look into your eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, tugging at his hair. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

You blink.

You swallow as you keep on looking at him with smugness, to hide the pain.

“It’s okay, no need to hide the truth from me, you were just saying what you were feeling, right?”

He opens his eyes and when he faces you again, he looks at you, really looks at you. He tries to find a hint of pain in your features or hurt in your eyes, but there is nothing. All he can see is the coldness in them.

Nothing he could ever do or say would hurt you – at least, that is what he believes, what he always believed.

“Right.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks.

“Good,” you nod and you tear your eyes away from him, unable to look at him any longer as you feel your heart cracking more and more.

“Y-You don’t have to go, Blondie.” He stops you once again, holding himself back from taking your hand.

You slowly turn around and he still struggles to read you, even when you stop smirking, even when you only look at him with a straight face, not saying anything back.

“But if you want to leave, no one’s gonna stop you.”

You see the indifference in his eyes, the coldness that is only there when he looks at you.

Yeah, you know no one would.

How can you care so much about someone that cares so little about you?

How can you want him so bad when all he wants for you is to disappear?

How can he worry one second and hate you in the other?

How can you long for him after every hurtful thing that he said to you?

You take a step away from him, blinking as you feel your eyes starting to burn.

“Bye, Steve.”

You turn around before he can even open his mouth, and you slam the door shut behind you because you don’t want to hear his voice.

You walk away with tears in your eyes.

You wish you didn’t come here today, every moment spent with him makes you want him even more, makes you hate yourself even more.

You don’t go home, no, you can’t stand to be in a house that resembles nothing but loss.

You turn the other way, towards Hawkins cemetery.

You just need to vent.

Even if only into the void.

♡

tagging only friends & mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @livosssblog

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

1K notes · View notes

heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 5 months ago

Text

☆ Enjoy! ☆

Red Hood

He Comes Home

Safe

Let Him Be Worthy

Set In Place

Honest Words

It Only Takes One

Something That Used to Be

Pre-established Relationship

Between Heartbeats

To Wait and To Love

Promises

Jason Todd

Gentle Touches

Outlier

Whispers of Him

Longing

Putrid and Foul

Ever Since We Met

Pre-established Relationship

Quiet Mornings

Jealousy | 3 x 1

To Look After You

The Birthday Blurb

Skin to Skin

Cookie Sheets

Trinkets

There are Highs and there are Lows

Priority One

Best Friend Blurbs

Pining

Stick Around

Kitchen Dances | Places We Dance

Just Friends | 3 X 1

More to it

Multi-Part Works/Collections

The Breakup Series

900 Event

AUs

His Name | A Soulmate!AU

Instinct | BeastWorld!AU

Strings of Fate | Ties That Bind | A Soulmate!AU

The Death Stench | Zombie Apocalypse

Blood Bag | DC vs Vampires AU

Claws and Curses | Werewolf!Jason

Headcanons

Gamer!Reader

Anxious!Reader

Reader Has Surgery

Jason Knows a Lot of Languages

Some Dating Thoughts

Random Headcannons

Jason and Kisses

Overly Attached (and in love)

Arkham Knight

Need

Things Unspoken

Guilty Hearts

Desperation

The Blood In Your Veins

Abducted

Matters of Fact

Guardian Angel

The Facade of You

Multi-Part Works

A Gilded Cage

Red Hood (Arkhamverse)

Fear

Bruce Wayne

Oaths

Dick Grayson

I Know How to Fall (So Teach Me to Fly)

538 notes · View notes

rafesbabygirlx · 2 months ago

Text

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 7A

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: I’ve pretty much wrapped up part 1. Which is why this is pretty long. I’ll be splitting it into its own 2 parts.

Part 2 comes out next week so I’ll be able to finish the series then! There will be much more Pogue story lines then! You’ll hear more about Maybank Readers involvement with the hunt! Hope you’re enjoying so far!

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: angst, smut (brief oral, p in v) Ruthie trigger warning.

You and Rafe are up early, getting ready to head out to the beach. You glance at your phone as you head into the closet to change, seeing a new message from JJ.

JJ - 9:04 AM: “Waves look good today. Grab your board and come join us! Unless you’re too prim and proper for us now.” 🌊

You - 9:06 AM: “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to watch you wipe out every time.” 😇

Meanwhile, Rafe is talking about the offer from Hollis, which has been on your mind too. “Y’know, I might be warming up to what Hollis suggested. It could be a good way for you to get established. Make people take you seriously. This is where you’ve always wanted to be, right?”

Surprised by your support, he glances over. “You think?”

You lean out of the closet, watching him pack your beach bag. “I mean, I’ve got my reservations. I don’t trust anyone who speaks so highly of your dad.” He gives you a look, but you ignore it. “And Sofia pushing you to take it? I mean, what does she know? But maybe it’s worth a shot. I just want you to feel good about whatever you decide.”

You step out, holding your bikini top in one hand, catching him looking at you. Smiling, you gently push his face toward the mirror. “A little help?” You pull your hair out of the way, and he ties the strings in a firm knot behind your neck.

“No matter what you choose, I’m here. But honestly, I’m starting to come around on the idea.”

He grins, his hands settling on your hips. “Feels like this is just landing right in my lap, huh?” He cups your face, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek.

“You could make so much money, Rafe.”

“Well, then I guess I’m about to make so much money.” He leans in, trailing kisses from your lips to your cheeks and down your neck as he pulls you closer, lifting you onto the sink. His fingers press into your hips, and you laugh.

“Making money turns you on this much?” you tease, tilting your head.

He smirks. “Guess it does. Though having you there with me doesn’t help.” He tugs at your bikini bottom, dropping to his knees. “Rafe, we need to leave soon…”

“Just a quick taste,” he murmurs, ignoring the clock.

He laps up the wetness that’s already coating you. Bringing his lips up to your clit and sucking on it. He moved his way back down to your hole and swirls the entrance with his tongue. You love how it feels but you want him inside of you.

You place your palm on his forehead and push his head back. He looks up at you with furrowed brows. “Inside, now… please.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” You pull his shirt off of him and he drops his swim trunks to the floor, they pool around his ankles. He undoes the strings of your bottoms, releasing you to the cold air of the bathroom and he pushes up your bikini top.

He runs his hard length through your folds to get it nice and wet and ultimately thrusts into you. You move forward to place your forehead in on. You stare into each other’s eyes. It’s a bit of a strange feeling, you and Rafe completely sober. It’s complete intimacy, neither of you are drunk or high, just looking for a quick fuck with a comfort person. You’re deep in this, you’re both in so much love.

He moves his head down, breaking eye contact, to suck on one of your nipples. One hand traveling to your clit. Rubbing perfect circles on it. Your body arches into him. You moan into his ear and his sends him into overdrive. He’s pounding into you getting you both so close. You grip his shoulders and grind into him meeting his rhythm and clench around him. “That’s it, cum for me, I’m right there too baby.”

His words don’t help and you crash immediately from them. Your legs fall numb and drop from Rafe’s waist so he picks them up and thrusts a couple of more times before he releases into you. You two stay in the same position before Rafe pulls out. He pulls up his swim shorts and walks over to the tub to grab a wash cloth.

He comes back over to you reaching behind you to turn the water on. He smiles at you and you lean into kiss him. You kiss him everywhere, lips, cheeks, neck, chest you don’t want to miss a single spot. Then you just pull him in for a hug. “What are y-?”

“Just hold on a second. I just want to hold you.” He obliges and wraps his arms around your back. You rest your ear in his chest and listen to his heart beat. You’re like that for a few moments when you break. “Can I clean you up now?” You smile and nod and he does just that. Further taking care of you by pulling back down your bikini top and retying your bottoms.

You both stand there for a moment, catching your breath and enjoying the post-coital glow. The water still running, creating a soothing background noise. Rafe gently turns off the water and sets the washcloth aside, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I think I might like this sober sex thing, especially if it’s with you forever,” he says with a smirk. You giggle and roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“I think we might be onto something here,” you reply, leaning in to kiss him again. The water still flowing, the room still spinning, but this time it’s not from alcohol or drugs – it’s from the pure, unadulterated passion and love that you share with Rafe.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You hop off the sink, quickly smoothing out your hair. Rafe grabs the beach bag, and the two of you head down to the kitchen. V’s face lights up as soon as she sees you both, and she cheers. You scoop her up, and Rafe wraps you both in a hug.

Since hiring Elaina as V’s full-time nanny, things have been easier. She’s from the island, Topper’s cousin, though from a more middle class background, working hard at her studies in business while juggling this job. It’s ideal for her, and it’s a relief to have someone you trust with V.

You invited Elaina to come to the beach, but she declined. Just then, Rafe gets a text from Topper. “Alright, we have to head out. Your annoying cousin keeps blowing up my phone. Gotta get there before he does.” You both say goodbye, giving V a quick kiss before telling Elaina to text if she needs anything.

Once you’re in Rafe’s convertible, he passes you the beach bag and jogs over to grab your surfboard. Surfing has been part of your life for as long as you can remember, ever since you and JJ started daydreaming about riding waves far enough to leave everything behind. Most importantly leaving Luke behind.

The drive to the beach is calm and bright, Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh while yours settles on his hand. When you arrive, you spot Topper, Kelce, and Ruthie waiting. After the drama from the other night, you only greet Kelce, deciding Ruthie can deal with being ignored for now. Topper, caught in the middle, gets no special treatment either.

Ruthie’s the first to break the silence. “Hey, Rafe and Y/N. What’s up?”

Rafe breathes out a quick “nothing,” while you offer her a flat, uninterested smile, rounding Topper’s Jeep to get in.

As you head to the sand, you spot the Twinkie nearby and wave to JJ and the rest of the crew. The kooks have parked a bit close, not you or them are thrilled about it. You and Rafe settle down near the water, where he sips a beer, his hand moving gently along your leg as you both take in the scene.

JJ, Kie, and Sarah are already in the water, with JJ teaching Sarah how to surf. She catches on quickly, and you watch them, smiling. You steal a glance at Rafe, trying to read his expression, but he’s a mystery.

When Sarah steps out of the water, you turn to him. “Want to go talk to her?”

He shifts, but shrugs it off. “She can come to me.”

You roll your eyes. “You know that’s not how this is going to work, Rafe.”

He starts to argue, but JJ interrupts. “Yo, sis, you riding or what?”

“Yeah, I’m coming!” You hop up, handing your cover-up to Rafe, who gives you a lingering look. Licking his lips as he looks up and down your body.

“Can you be serious for a moment?” you say, exasperated. “I’ll be the first person to help you here Rafe. But you’re not gonna get anything from her. You have to give it your all, that’s the only way it’s gonna work. You caused the damage you have to fix it.”

Leaving him to think, you grab your board and jog over to JJ. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “What’s up with baby daddy? Got another stick up his ass?”

“He’s actually been great, J. Leave it alone,” you snap, cutting off JJ before he can say more. With that, you both rush into the water, ready to surf. The waves carry you effortlessly, and for a while, it’s peaceful, even with Topper and Kelce joining in. But it doesn’t last—JJ blows a wave, causing Topper to wipe out.

“Well, so much for a peaceful day,” Kie mutters under her breath as Topper storms out of the water, Kelce right behind him. You spot Ruthie on the shore, her eyes glued to the scene, already gearing up for her next bout of drama.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

The rest of the afternoon is spent with your family of Pogues, their laughter and banter offering a break from the tension that always lingers when you’re around Rafe’s dry, humorless crowd. It’s freeing, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about the other world—the Kooks and their incessant games.

The day flies by, and soon enough, you’re sitting in a circle with everyone when Kie’s voice rings out. “Guys, there’s a turtle hatch!”

Your eyes widen with excitement. “Oh my god! I’ve lived here my whole life and never seen one!” You jump to your feet, helping Kie clear a path for the tiny hatchlings.

The group gathers around, marveling as the baby turtles make their way to the water. You reach for your phone, wanting to capture the moment to show Vivienne later, when the sound of an engine revving cuts through the peace. Your head snaps up just in time to see Topper’s Jeep hurtling toward you.

Heart pounding, you grab Sarah and John B, pulling them out of the way as Kie stands firm, waving her arms to try and stop them. But Ruthie, wild-eyed and relentless, aims straight for her. JJ dives in at the last second, yanking Kie out of the Jeep’s path as it roars by.

“What the fuck is wrong with her?!” you shout, the panic morphing into fury as Ruthie speeds through the turtle hatch, sending sand and broken shells flying. She throws a drink at Kie, drenching her in alcohol before heading back to the cluster of Kooks, who cheer her on.

Kie, now soaked and furious, picks up a lifeless hatchling and starts walking toward the group. Your eyes find Rafe’s, watching his expression as he stands surrounded by his friends, unmoving. Then you look at JJ, who gives you a nod, and together you follow behind Kie.

The anger you’d felt toward Topper and Ruthie since the last confrontation fuels your steps. The sting of betrayal simmers as you realize that Rafe, the man who claims to love you and your daughter, is once again silent when it matters most. He can do it in private but not when there’s too many Kooks around.

Kie’s voice cuts through your haze. “Look at what you did!” She screams at them, but you barely hear the exchange. Your vision tunnels, zeroing in on Ruthie’s smug face and Rafe’s indifferent stance.

Ruthie spits out a threat about being filmed, and without thinking, you snap. “Fuck you, Ruthie,” you hiss, stepping between her and Kie. Topper raises a hand to stop you, but you shove it off your shoulder.

“And fuck you too, you cowardly lap dog.” He blinks, momentarily stunned. “What?”

“You’re pussy, Top. Always hiding behind your girlfriend, letting her pull your strings. It’s embarrassing,” you seethe. He doesn’t say anything, not shocking.

Ruthie throws out another taunt you barely register. Your fists clench, itching to make her regret ever crossing you. But the thought of your daughter flashes in your mind—a reminder of why you can’t afford an assault charge.

You take a breath, forcing your hands down and stepping back. “There is seriously something wrong with you people,” Kie shouts, her voice trembling with rage. You exchange another look with Rafe, one filled with disappointment and disbelief. JJ issues a final warning, promising consequences if they ever come at the Pogues again.

“JJ, let’s go,” you command, your voice tight. You start to lead Kie away when Rafe’s voice, low and almost apologetic, cuts through the chaos. “Yeah, I saw that,” he mutters, siding with Ruthie.

Blood surges hot in your veins at his words as you push over the large speaker Kelce had set up earlier, the crash punctuating your fury. You flip Topper off as he shouts after you, but you’re already walking away, your pulse thrumming with betrayal and rage.

Walking back, you keep Kie close, rubbing her upper arm in an attempt to soothe her. “When you get home, you should hold a little funeral for him,” you suggest softly.

She wipes her eyes, a faint smile breaking through the tears. “That’s a good idea.”

At the Twinkie, you help Kie climb in and press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry, Kie.” She nods silently, eyes fixed on the lifeless turtle cradled in her hands.

With a heavy heart, you move to help pack up the rest of their things, casting a glance at Sarah. She meets your eyes, sympathy etched across her face. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “She’ll be alright.” You step forward, sharing a strong, silent hug, then turn away, bracing yourself for the walk back to the group that now feels so foreign.

As you pass through the cluster of Kooks, you ignore their smirks and jeers, stuffing your belongings into your bag. Rafe steps up, his expression unreadable. “Not cool, Rafe,” you say firmly.

“They deserved it,” he counters, eyes searching yours for understanding.

“I want to leave. Now.” You sling your surfboard under your arm and march off toward the car, determined not to get back in Topper’s Jeep, no matter how far Rafe’s is parked.

Rafe rushes after you, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins pushes you forward faster than you thought possible. You reach the car before he does, rattling the door handle impatiently. When he finally arrives, you snap, “Open it.” He unlocks the door, grabbing your board before you can stow it yourself.

“Maybank, stop it. You’re really going to give me shit over what Ruthie did?” he protests.

You shake your head, a bitter laugh slipping out. “No, I’m giving you shit about your ego. You care so much about what those people think that you can’t say a word, even when you know it was wrong. If the roles were reversed…” He turns away, heading to the driver’s side, but you reach out, grabbing his wrist to pull him back.

“I’m not done.” Your eyes lock with his, demanding his attention. “If that happened to you, do you think any of them would care? Do you think they’d protect you like JJ did Kie? They wouldn’t, Rafe, because you don’t actually care about each other. You only get mad when it makes the Kooks look bad. That’s not real loyalty.”

You take a breath before continuing, your voice steady and resolute. “We might be ‘scum from the Cut,’ but we’re a family. We stand up for each other, no matter what. Something your so-called friends could never understand. You want to be better for V, for me, even for Sarah? Then get the fuck over yourself.”

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, sliding into the car without another word. The drive home is silent, the tension palpable, a stark contrast to the calm of the morning.

When you arrive home, you grab your bag and rush inside. Elaina is feeding V her dinner, and the moment you see your daughter, warmth floods you. “Hi, baby!” you coo, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. V laughs, her giggle a balm to your frayed nerves.

“Hi, mama!” she chirps, eyes sparkling.

You turn to Elaina. “I’m going to take a quick shower. You can head out after that—I’m not going anywhere tonight.” Passing Rafe as he enters the kitchen, you don’t spare him a glance, making sure to lock the bedroom and bathroom doors behind you.

Under the hot stream of water, the tension in your body starts to dissolve. You stay there longer than intended, letting the day wash off you. A sharp knock on the bedroom door snaps you back. Rafe’s muffled voice follows. “Come on, Y/N, open up.”

You dry off at a leisurely pace, slipping into pajamas and combing through your damp hair. The knock grows more insistent, but you take your time applying moisturizer, savoring the rare moment of peace. Finally, you unlock the door.

“Finally,” Rafe mutters, frustration lacing his voice. “Dramatic much?” His tone grates on your nerves, but you stay silent, walking past him without a word. He calls out, “Really?” but you don’t turn back.

Sitting at the table with V, you pick at reheated leftovers as she babbles between bites. Another things Kooks don’t have a grasp on. Practically had to force Rafe to not to throw these leftovers out.

Rafe joins you, reaching out across the table. You glance at his hand but don’t take it. He sighs, retreating as you show V the videos of the baby turtles, willing away the memory of the broken shell in Kie’s hands.

“V, do you know how pretty you are? You get that from your mama,” Rafe says softly. The sweetness in his tone almost cracks your resolve, but you hold firm, in the back of your mind you like the effect you have on him. You get up clearing the dishes and pressing a kiss to V’s head she giggles at your touch.

You set a plate of food in front of Rafe, who looks up, surprised. “I ordered something to be delivered.” You clench down on your teeth and you go to pull the food away but he grabs your hands and stops you. “I’ll have this, I can save that food for tomorrow.”

He’s gonna save his food? It’s getting really hard to not be mad at him. He tries so hard with you. Why can’t he do it for others?

You set it back down again. Grabbing V to give her a bath. You rest your hand in his shoulder and you walk past him. The nighttime routine is mercifully smooth, and soon V is asleep. You’re curled up in bed with a book when Rafe enters, sitting at your feet.

Tbc in Part 7B

Taglist:

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @bigbonenative @writtenbyhollywood @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @leilanizcals

#rafe cameron #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe x pogue #rafe x maybank #rafe x y/n #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe fluff #rafe cameron smut

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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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- joel miller masterlist -

dividers by @saradika-graphics

🔥 - smut 💖 - fluff ☔️ - angst ⚠️ - dark ⭐️ - new/recently updated

- series -

feelings on fire 🔥💖☔️ - you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

one thing i'm missing 🔥💖 - you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming.

soft!dom joel 🔥💖☔️ - a collection of important moments between you and joel miller, your grumpy new patrol partner in jackson, wyoming.

boyfriend's dad!joel 🔥💖☔️ - moments between you and your boyfriend's father, joel miller, who you have a secret relationship with.

to freeze or to thaw 🔥💖⚠️ - joel is a raider without much humanity left, except when it comes to you. you're his special girl, but you can't ignore the way his right-hand man tommy also makes you feel.

- one shots -

imperfect for you 💖⭐ - you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby.

is it that sweet? 🔥 - you probably shouldn't let some random middle aged man on the beach take nude photos of you, right? right?

this one thing you did 🔥 - dancing with a stranger at your favorite club leads to something filthy.

beyond infatuation 🔥💖 - joel & tommy have an arrangement where they share you, no strings attached.

truth or dare 🔥⚠️ - a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage.

keep it squeaky 🔥 - joel miller has a problem, and it's his daughter's new best friend. or, alternatively, joel listens to you pee while he's in the shower.

- drabbles -

pillow humping 🔥 - prompts: joel, reader and pillow humping + the sentence “you say it’s big but you take it. ride cowgirl” from frank ocean pyramids.

pubic hair insecurities 🔥💖 - prompt: do you think joel would say anything reassuring if he noticed reader was embarrassed of her pubic hair after the outbreak?

nipple piercings 🔥 - prompt: how would joel respond to nipple piercings and a freaky reader?

#joel miller x reader

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lonefloric · 6 months ago

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Intertwined souls ✿

soulmate au mini series

multiple x female!reader

Navigation

Status: on going / HIATUS

Tanjiro x Color Blind

↳in a world where nobody can see color until they meet their soulmate, tanjiro is devastated thinking he will never meet his soulmate with demons still alive. That's until quick eye contact with a village girl.

Kanao x Red String

↳as long as kanao could remember, a small red string was tied to her pinky finger. A string only she could see, but a string of hope.

Giyuu x thoughts

↳Giyuu was used to hearing the million different thoughts racing through his mind at every hour. That was until it suddenly went dead silent.

Shinobu x Physical Sensation

↳random sharp pains and pinches became a normal part of shinobu's daily life for as long as she could remember. Who knew they were caused by the cute and clumsy demon slayer who was in and out of her clinic.

Sanemi x Hot/Cold

↳sanemi was used to feeling icy cold, it was a normal feeling ever since he was a child. Now he has to deal with being scorching hot after saving a mere village girl.

Rengoku x Countdown

↳the clock was supposed to keep going down, why is it not going down?

Mitsuri x Dreams

↳time to sleep was one of mitsuri's favorite things. Once she slipped out of the real world and into the safety of sleep, waiting for her would be her lover, waiting with open arms.

Muichiro x Matching Symbols

↳a small dot, no bigger than a small pebble, was place on muichiro's wrist. He knew what it was, his father explained it to him as a young child that would be how he met his soulmate, look for the matching symbol and placement.

Obanai x Heterochromia

↳obanai had unique eyes, one yellow and one (e/c). Now he's staring at the colors of the same mismatched eyes.

#intertwined souls mini series #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x you #kimetsu no yaiba x y/n #kny x reader #giyuu x reader #kny x y/n #kny x you #rengoku x reader #muichiro x you #tanjiro x reader #zenitsu x reader #inosuke x reader #kanao x reader #shinobu x reader #sanemi x reader #mitsuri x reader #obanai x reader

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sweetiecutie · 1 year ago

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🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

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